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won4kiss · 6 hours ago

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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────THE BEST GIFTS AREN’T UNDER THE TREE.

୨୧ SYPNOSiS. you and park sunghoon don’t exactly get along. you’re coworkers who seem to have nothing in common— polar opposties. he’s the polished guy from a wealthy family, while you’re just trying to make ends meet and keep your personal life private. but when an awkward run-in at the pharmacy reveals more about your struggles than you ever wanted anyone to know—maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought—maybe the person who drives you the craziest might just be the one who gets you best.

୨୧ PAiRING. enemy! park sunghoon x fem! reader, rich!sunghoon x not very rich! reader, type 1 diabetic! reader.

୨୧ GENRE. office romance, enemies to lovers, fluff & christmas romcom hallmark movie themed, minimal angst.

୨୧ WARNiNGS. profanities, kissing, yn is a little mean.. type 1 diabetes mentioned, struggles with money, ignorant hoon, not proofread.

୨୧ WORD COUNT. 8,106 / 8.1K

𝓟𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟i𝗦𝗧 ﹕ last christmas, wham. it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas, michael bublé. you’re so vain, carly simon. unwritten, natasha bedingfield. suburban house, holly macve, ldr. just the way you are, bruno mars. can’t help falling in love, elvis presley.

NOTE. i know it’s a bit early.. but i literally couldn’t help myself i love love love christmas!! 🤓☝️thank u guys for the support on the teaser <3 i strongly recommend reading it before u begin this!! enjoy hehe ^-^

THE OFFICE FELT ALIVE WITH THE PULSE OF CHRISTMAS.

fairy lights draped the edges of cubicle walls, casting warm hues across the room, and garlands hung over doorways, filling the space with a faint hint of pine scent.

the air had an almost electric feel—holiday music blasted softly from someone’s desk speaker, and laughter echoed from the kitchen, where the holiday potluck was in full swing. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

you took it all in with a quiet sense of satisfaction, enjoying the warmth of the season.

for a few minutes, at least, the festive atmosphere helped you push aside the stress and exhaustion that had weighed on you lately.

financial strain and the challenges of managing your type 1 diabetes were constant pressures, but they were your private burdens, things you carried alone.

here, in the office, you could leave them behind, escape reality—or at least pretend to.

with a sigh, you pulled your scarf off and hung it by your desk, feeling the familiar vibration of your blood glucose monitor.

you checked the reading—steady, for now.

relief was brief, though, as you were quickly reminded of the pharmacy bill due at the end of the month, a larger sum that had grown even more unreachable since your insurance provider had started making cuts.

“hey! finally decided to show up?” a smooth voice cut through your thoughts, laced with the perfect blend of mischief and a hint of mockery.

you turned to see park sunghoon, leaning against the divider between your desks with his signature smirk.

he was dressed in a no doubt expensive, tailored coat, his dark hair disheveled in that way that looked both casual and wealthy.

sunghoon’s presence was an unmistakable reminder that you were, as always, worlds apart.

“yes, i thought i’d take pity and show my face,” you shot back, crossing your arms with an eye-roll. “wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable doing all the work without me.”

“oh, please. like i’d ever let you have all the credit,” he said, grinning as he pushed himself off the desk.

sunghoon’s wealth was an open secret around the office, though he rarely discussed it openly.

still, the designer clothing, the luxury watches, and the effortless way he carried himself spoke volumes.

he was someone who had grown up with privilege in a way you could barely fathom, and sometimes, it felt almost as if he enjoyed reminding you of it.

it was always little jabs, little comments—things he likely didn’t realize cut deeper than intended.

you let out a sigh, unwilling to let him get under your skin today, especially when the holidays usually put you in a good mood.

ignoring his stare, you logged into your computer and prepared for the day’s tasks, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.

but sunghoon didn’t move. instead, he watched you, brows slightly raised, as if daring you to keep ignoring him.

finally, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.

“so, what’d you bring for the potluck? or is this going to be another year of pretending you’re too busy to participate?” he teased, a glint in his eye.

you bristled, annoyance prickling at your skin.

sunghoon didn’t know, of course, that you’d barely managed to scrape together enough for groceries this week, let alone something special for the potluck—but his words hit a sore spot nonetheless.

“not that it’s any of your business,” you replied with gritted teeth, meeting his gaze, “but i’ve been a little… preoccupied with other things.”

“oh? too busy for christmas spirit, mrs. grinch?” his smirk softened just a little, but the teasing tone remained. “how tragic. i can’t imagine a holiday without going all out.”

“yeah, well, maybe some of us have other priorities.”

he tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his expression—you could tell he was on the brink of pushing further, maybe digging into what those priorities might be, but before he could, a group of coworkers filed into the room, breaking the tension between you.

after a few hours of emails and spreadsheets, you slipped away for a quick break, heading to the break room.

as you made your way down the hall, you thought about the other expenses coming up—the overdue pharmacy bill, the rent check, and the dozens of smaller costs that added up so fast it felt impossible to keep up.

you’d learned to carry these worries quietly.

no one in the office had ever seen you let your guard down, and you’d grown so used to putting on a brave face that sometimes you believed it yourself.

in the break room, you reached into your bag, pulling out a small protein bar that would have to suffice as lunch.

you barely had time to take a bite before the door swung open, and sunghoon strolled in, his presence instantly filling the small room.

“skipping lunch again?” he asked, nodding at the protein bar in your hand.

you raised an eyebrow. “i could say the same. didn’t peg you for the protein-bar type.”

“oh, please.” he scoffed, moving to grab a coffee pod.

“i just had a massive breakfast. unlike some people, i actually know how to treat myself during the holidays.”

“congrats on the life of luxury,” you muttered, feeling your patience fray.

he chuckled, missing the edge in your voice—or, worse, choosing to ignore it. “well, it’s not for everyone.”

there was something almost infuriating in how casually he threw these little remarks around, as if it were a game.

you often wondered if he had any idea how privileged he sounded or if he was simply so wrapped up in his world that he couldn’t see beyond it.

you hated to admit it, but sometimes his comments stung. deeply.

“you know,” he continued, oblivious, “they’re setting up for the secret santa exchange in the main lobby. you could still join in if you want to spread some christmas cheer.”

you felt the words bubbling up before you could stop them. “not all of us can afford to ‘spread christmas cheer’ the way you do, sunghoon.”

a flicker of confusion crossed his face, and his casual demeanor faltered for a second.

you’d been careful not to reveal much about your personal life, but his relentless teasing had chipped away at your patience.

you could see him trying to piece together what you meant, his smirk fading as he observed you, perhaps noticing the hint of frustration in your expression.

but before he could press further, you gathered your things and left the break room, feeling his eyes on your back as you made your way down the hall.

the week had dragged on, filled with deadlines and holiday preparations you barely had the energy for.

by thursday evening, you’d almost forgotten about the refill you needed at the pharmacy.

but when the notification popped up on your phone—prescription ready for pickup—your stomach twisted.

the monthly pharmacy trip was always a grim reminder of the costs that piled up faster than you could manage.

you entered the pharmacy, still in your work clothes, feeling a familiar combination of dread and fatigue.

the fluorescent lights felt harsh after a long day, casting everything in an unflattering glare.

you waited in line, trying to keep your anxiety at bay, telling yourself that it would be okay.

when you reached the counter, the pharmacist handed over the medication with a sympathetic look.

“i’m sorry, y/n..” she said quietly, glancing down at her screen. “your insurance isn’t covering this anymore. the total comes to… $600.”

the number hit you like a punch. “six hundred?” you echoed, barely able to keep the shock from your voice.

“yes, unfortunately,” she said, her expression softening. “would you like to speak to someone in billing about options?”

you swallowed hard, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

behind you, a couple of people had joined the line, their eyes on you, and you could sense their impatience.

the pressure made it hard to think, and you fumbled for words, barely able to keep from breaking down. “i… i didn’t realize it would be that high.”

your hands trembled as you reached for your wallet, counting bills that would barely make a dent.

you felt the weight of judgment pressing down, and the frustration of the week boiled over into a feeling of helplessness.

in that moment, the walls you’d built so carefully began to crack—suddenly, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

“here, i’ve got it.”

you whipped around to see sunghoon, standing just behind you, his expression unreadable.

he held out his card to the cashier, his hand steady, his tone calm. the same calmness you often found infuriating—but now it felt like salt in a wound.

“no!” you blurted, voice louder than you intended. “sunghoon, i don’t need—”

he didn’t look at you, simply held his card out closer to the cashier, who accepted it with a nod.

the transaction beeped through, a small, simple sound that shattered any hope you had of holding onto your pride.

you took a shaky breath, trying to process what had just happened.

the thought of owing sunghoon money—let alone having him swoop in like some hero—made you feel nauseous.

sunghoon handed you the medication bag without a word, his expression unreadable, almost neutral.

but his silence only fueled the resentment bubbling inside you.

“thanks,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze, gripping the bag tightly in your hands.

as soon as you stepped outside the pharmacy, the freezing winter air hit your face, jolting you back to reality.

sunghoon followed, catching up to you in a few strides.

his voice was calm but edged with something sharper, something you couldn’t quite place.

“you’re welcome, by the way,” he said, a hint of sarcasm coloring his tone.

you stopped abruptly, turning to face him, anger flaring up despite the chill that seeped into your bones.

“i didn’t ask you to help me, sunghoon. i really don’t need your charity.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms. “it’s not charity. i was just helping. or is that too difficult for you to accept?”

the words stung—you looked down, heart racing as you struggled to find the right response.

“you don’t get it. you don’t understand what it’s like to need help,” you said quietly, but there was a weight to your words that hung in the air between you.

sunghoon blinked, surprised by the intensity in your tone.

for a brief second, he seemed taken aback, as if realizing for the first time that there were layers to your life he’d never even thought to consider.

but just as quickly, he recovered, his expression hardening.

“maybe i don’t understand,” he said, voice low. “but i was only trying to be a good friend—you clearly needed my help.”

the word “friend” felt heavy, like it didn’t belong.

you’d spent so much time bickering with him, pushing each other’s buttons, that the idea of friendship felt foreign.

“we were never friends, sunghoon,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper. “not really.”

his face fell, just a fraction, but it was enough for you to see the disappointment in his eyes before he quickly masked it.

he didn’t respond, didn’t argue back. he just stood there, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and simmering emotions.

with a sigh, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone under the dim streetlights.

the next morning, you arrived at the office feeling drained, the argument replaying in your mind like a loop you couldn’t escape.

you’d spent the entire night wrestling with guilt, shame, and confusion.

as much as you hated to admit it, sunghoon had only been trying to help.

maybe his actions felt patronizing, but it wasn’t entirely his fault—you hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about your struggles, either.

you spotted him near the coffee station, and your heart thudded in your chest.

he looked up as you approached, his expression carefully blank, like he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“hey,” you began, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “about last night… i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

he looked at you for a moment, studying your face, and you felt the tension ease slightly as a hint of a smile softened his expression.

“apology accepted,” he replied, a glimmer of his usual playfulness returning. “besides, if i can’t handle a little yelling, i shouldn’t be hanging around you, should i?”

you laughed, surprised by how much lighter you felt. “guess not.”

for the rest of the morning, there was a shift in the air between you and sunghoon.

it was subtle, but the tension had softened into something different, something… more understanding.

sunghoon seemed to go out of his way to avoid his usual teasing, and you found yourself appreciating the small moments of consideration—like when he quietly handed you a cup of coffee during a long meeting, or when he offered to take on part of a six page report without asking.

a few days later, the two of you were assigned to a client project that required an off-site visit to the city’s holiday market.

the market was bustling with vendors selling everything from handmade ornaments to spiced apple cider, and festive christmas music filled the air as fairy lights wrapped around pine trees twinkled in every direction.

you walked side by side through the crowds, the cold biting at your cheeks, but the festive atmosphere was infectious.

for once, sunghoon’s competitive edge had softened, replaced by a mutual sense of respect that felt unexpectedly natural.

he paused by a stall selling candied nuts, grinning as he handed you a small bag. “try these—they’re amazing.”

the warmth from the roasted nuts seeped into your hands, and you couldn’t help but smile as you tasted one. “not bad,” you admitted, savoring the sweetness.

he watched you with a soft, almost unreadable expression, his eyes warm in the glow of the holiday lights. “see? i knew i could get you into the christmas spirit.”

you rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks heat up, and for once, you couldn’t blame the cold.

“maybe christmas isn’t so bad,” you conceded, though your tone was playful.

you spent the afternoon walking through the market, sharing laughs and stories, with sunghoon’s usual arrogance replaced by a gentle charm that you weren’t familiar with.

there was something tender in the way he looked at you, as if he were seeing you for the first time, and you found yourself stealing glances when he wasn’t looking, wondering if maybe—maybe there was more to him than you’d realized.

the following weeks felt different—lighter, and even with the temperatures dropping even more—it felt unusually warmer.

where there had been tension, there was now an unspoken truce between you and sunghoon.

you’d catch his eye across the room and find a small, almost conspiratorial smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he, too, felt this strange new dynamic between you.

sunghoon’s teasing didn’t completely vanish, but it softened, became something that almost felt like an inside joke between the two of you.

and you found yourself… laughing. a lot. his wit was sharp, his timing impeccable, and his presence that you once found insufferable was now strangely comforting.

one snowy december morning, you arrived at your desk to find a small, neatly wrapped box sitting on top of your keyboard.

you looked around, half-expecting to see sunghoon lurking nearby, but he was nowhere in sight.

the gift wasn’t anything fancy—just a small pack of flavored coffee pods with a tiny note attached in his precise handwriting:

“for when the cafeteria coffee just isn’t enough. -s”

a smile spread across your face, and you felt an unexpected warmth bloom in your chest.

you didn’t know what surprised you more—that he’d noticed your disdain for the cafeteria’s bitter coffee, or that he’d gone out of his way to do something about it.

the gesture was small, almost insignificant, but it felt like a piece of kindness slipped through his carefully maintained armor.

later that day, when you saw him passing by, you couldn’t help but hold up the box and call out, “you know, bribery is illegal in this office.”

he raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a smirk.

“consider it a professional courtesy. can’t have you grumbling about the coffee all day and distracting everyone with your complaints.”

“oh, please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes—but you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling that warmth settle even deeper.

sunghoon was watching you, something soft and thoughtful in his gaze, and for a moment, the whole world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

the holiday season meant long hours at the office, with tight deadlines and clients demanding year-end reports.

you and sunghoon found yourselves frequently the last ones to leave, working side by side in the glow of your computer screens as the office grew quiet around you.

one evening, you’d both stayed late, trying to wrap up a particularly demanding project.

your head was pounding, and you absentmindedly massaged your temples, eyes closed, when you heard the quiet thud of something being set down on your desk.

opening your eyes, you found sunghoon standing there, holding out a cup of tea.

“it’s not coffee,” he said, with a small, awkward smile. “but it’s supposed to help with headaches.”

surprised, you took the cup, feeling your fingers brush his briefly. “thank you,” you murmured, the warmth of the tea seeping through your fingers and into your skin.

you weren’t sure what to make of this new, considerate sunghoon—the same man who once enjoyed riling you up now seemed to be going out of his way to make you feel… cared for.

he didn’t leave, just watched you as you took a sip, his gaze holding a softness that made your heart flutter.

for a moment, you forgot the rivalry, forgot the teasing and the jabs.

all you saw was sunghoon, standing there with a quiet, almost hesitant expression, as if he, too, was trying to understand what was happening between you.

when he finally looked away, clearing his throat awkwardly, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

the silence hung heavy with words left unsaid, and as he walked back to his desk, you felt a strange longing settle in your chest—a longing that surprised and confused you in equal measure.

a week before christmas, the company sent you and sunghoon out to oversee a local holiday event as part of a charity initiative.

the city was sparkling with lights, carols, and people bundled in scarves and coats, laughing and chattering as they browsed the decorated stalls.

snow had started to fall, dusting the sidewalks in soft white powder.

“stick with me,” sunghoon said, giving you a wink as he led the way through the crowd. “we wouldn’t want you to get lost in the holiday rush.”

“oh, please,” you retorted, rolling your eyes—but you fell into step beside him, the easy banter warming you against the chilly air.

you wandered through the market together, occasionally stopping to admire handcrafted ornaments or taste samples of hot peppermint chocolate.

sunghoon even bought you a gingerbread cookie shaped like a snowman, holding it out with a shy grin.

“it’s not much,” he said, as if embarrassed by the simplicity of it.

“it’s perfect,” you replied, surprised by how genuine your own smile felt.

you took a bite, savoring the sweetness, while sunghoon watched you with an expression that made your heart flutter.

as you made your way through the crowd, you felt his hand brush against yours, a barely-there touch that sent a thrill down your spine.

you glanced up at him, half-expecting a smirk, but his expression was serious, his gaze focused on you in a way that made your heart race.

for a few beats, neither of you spoke, the sounds of the bustling market fading into the background.

sunghoon’s gaze held yours, intense and unwavering, and you felt a strange, almost magnetic pull between you.

you didn’t realize how close you were standing until someone bumped into you from behind, breaking the moment.

sunghoon quickly reached out to steady you, his hand firm and reassuring on your arm.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

you nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of his hand on your arm. “yeah, i’m fine. thanks.”

he didn’t let go right away, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, just for a second, savoring the warmth and closeness.

when he finally released you, his fingers lingered just a moment too long, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake.

as the evening wound down, you found yourselves standing at the edge of the market, watching the snow fall softly around you.

the streetlights casted a dim, yellow warm glow over the scene, and you could see your breath mingling with his in the chilly air.

sunghoon shifted beside you, his expression unreadable. “you know, i never thought we’d actually get along,” he admitted, his tone quiet, almost hesitant.

“me neither,” you replied, feeling a strange, bittersweet ache in your chest. “guess it took the holidays to bring out the best in us.”

he chuckled softly, but there was something melancholy in his smile. “maybe. or maybe it just took us actually… seeing each other.”

the words hung heavy in the air, their meaning lingering between you.

for the first time, you realized that he hadn’t just been teasing you all those months—maybe he’d been reaching out, trying to connect in the only way he knew how.

and maybe… maybe you’d been doing the same.

the snow continued to fall, soft and silent, as you stood together in a moment that felt suspended in time.

the following monday, you walked into the office to find an unusual hyper buzz in the air.

coworkers were whispering, exchanging knowing looks, and as you made your way to your desk, you could feel their curious glances following you.

“what’s going on?” you finally asked one of your coworkers, trying to ignore the strange, uneasy feeling building in your stomach.

your coworker glanced at you, clearly excited to spill the news. “oh, didn’t you hear? sunghoon’s engaged! his family announced it over the weekend. isn’t that amazing?”

the words hit you like a slap—for a moment, you could only stare, the world tilting around you as the reality sank in.

engaged. park sunghoon was… engaged?

somehow, you managed to keep your composure, nodding along and murmuring something that sounded like congratulations.

but inside, you felt like your heart had been stepped on and crushed into a thousand pieces.

you hadn’t even realized how much he’d come to mean to you until that moment, until the possibility of him slipping out of your life loomed in front of you.

the warmth, the stolen glances, the lingering touches—they all felt like illusions now, shattered by the cold reality of his engagement.

and as the days passed, you found yourself pulling away, avoiding him, unable to face the ache that had settled in your chest.

you convinced yourself it was for the best, that distancing yourself would make it easier.

but each time you caught a glimpse of him—sitting at his desk, laughing with a coworker, or glancing your way with a confused expression—the pain flared, sharp and unyielding.

the annual company christmas party was an elaborate affair held at a high-end hotel ballroom, decked out with garlands, chandeliers wrapped in fairy lights, and a massive christmas tree in the center of the room.

you arrived alone, shivering as the chilly air picked at your bare arms—nerves prickling as you took in the festive crowd of coworkers mingling, laughing, and toasting to the holiday season.

you’d done your best to dress up, but an unmistakable heaviness clung to you—the weight of sunghoon’s engagement lingered, even after avoiding him—you couldn’t escape the haunting of park sunghoon.

you hadn’t spoken to him in days, going out of your way to avoid his attempts to talk.

he’d noticed, of course. the confused glances, the way his brow furrowed when he caught sight of you hurrying out of a room—those small, unspoken moments were like daggers, deepening the ache in your chest.

it hurt more than you’d thought possible, this distance, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

tonight, the ballroom was filled with the sounds of holiday classics, the gentle clinking of glasses, and the murmur of cheerful conversations.

you pushed your way through the crowd, greeting coworkers and accepting the occasional compliment, but your mind kept wandering, searching for him against your better judgment.

when you finally saw him, standing near the christmas tree in a tailored dark suit, your heart twisted painfully.

he looked… incredible, polished and confident as always, but there was something else in his eyes—a tension, a restlessness that you couldn’t place.

he was surrounded by a small group of colleagues, but he seemed distracted, his gaze scanning the room as if looking for someone.

you turned quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed you, and tried to lose yourself in the crowd.

but even as you made small talk with your coworkers, your attention kept drifting back to him, your heart stubbornly refusing to let go.

at some point in the evening, the lights dimmed, and the band began playing a slow, romantic melody.

a coworker you barely knew approached you, a friendly smile on his face as he offered his hand. “care for a dance?”

the last thing you wanted was to be dragged onto the dance floor, but the thought of standing alone, surrounded by the sight of happy couples, felt worse.

you accepted, letting him guide you to the center of the room.

the music was soft and gentle, filling the room like a quiet whisper—your dance partner was polite, talking amiably as you swayed to the music, but you barely heard a word he said.

your gaze drifted, unbidden, toward sunghoon. he was watching you, his expression hidden in shadow, but you could see the pain in his eyes—a pain that mirrored your own.

for a moment, everything else faded away.

the ballroom, the music, the dozens of people around you—all of it blurred into the background as you met his gaze.

it was a single, suspended moment, one that hung heavy with all the things left unsaid, all the secrets you’d kept bottled up.

sunghoon’s expression was raw, his eyes shining with an intensity that left you breathless.

he looked… devastated, as if the sight of you dancing with someone else was tearing him apart.

a flicker of hope sparked in your heart, but you quickly quashed it, reminding yourself that he was engaged.

and yet… the look in his eyes felt so real, so heartbreakingly genuine, that you almost believed he cared as deeply as you did.

when the song ended, you quickly excused yourself from your dance partner, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

you retreated to the side of the room, fighting to steady your breath as you chugged a glass of champagne, all while trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside you.

moments later, the ceo stepped up to the front of the room, tapping the microphone and quieting the crowd.

he began his speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and loyalty over the past year, his words filled with the usual corporate platitudes.

you listened half-heartedly, your mind elsewhere, still reeling from the intensity of sunghoon’s gaze.

as the ceo’s speech drew to a close, he turned to sunghoon with a broad smile.

“and of course, we can’t end this night without congratulating our very own park sunghoon on his recent engagement!”

a round of applause erupted, and all eyes turned to sunghoon—he stood there, looking cornered, his face a mix of frustration and anguish as he glanced out at the crowd, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

his gaze flicked to you for just a moment, but it was enough for you to see the raw emotion in his eyes—the pain, the longing, and something deeper, something desperate.

the applause began to fade, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the room as everyone waited for him to respond.

you held your breath, watching as he took a deep, steadying breath and then lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before finally resting on you.

“i… i have something to say,” he began, his voice trembling just slightly, though he tried to mask it with a steady, confident tone. “my parents may have announced an engagement, but i… i can’t go through with it.”

a collective gasp rippled through the crowd, murmurs breaking out as people exchanged shocked glances.

sunghoon held his ground, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt your heart pounding wildly, your entire body frozen as his words sank in.

“i can’t go through with it,” he continued, his voice stronger now, filled with a conviction that made your chest ache. “because… because i’m in love with someone else.”

his words echoed in the silence, hanging in the air like a confession to the whole world—the room was utterly still, every eye fixed on him, but he seemed oblivious to them all, focused solely on you.

your breath caught, and you felt a wave of shock and disbelief wash over you, mingled with a wild, desperate hope.

sunghoon took a step closer towards you, his eyes filled with an intensity that left you breathless.

“i’m in love with you, y/n. i’ve been so in love with you—for longer than i want to admit.”

the entire room was staring now, but all you could see was him.

your heart raced, your mind whirling as you struggled to process what he’d just said—part of you wanted to run, to escape the weight of all those eyes on you, but another part, a larger part, wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and let yourself fall into his arms.

but it was all too much—the crowd, the confession, the overwhelming emotions crashing over you like a tidal wave.

without another word, you turned and fled, pushing your way through the stunned crowd, your heart pounding as you made your way outside.

the cold air hit you like a slap, shocking your senses and grounding you just enough to keep you from collapsing under the weight of it all.

you were barely halfway down the steps when you heard footsteps behind you.

“y/n! wait!”

you turned to see sunghoon jogging after you, his face pale, eyes wide with worry.

he reached for you, but you took a step back, shaking your head, barely able to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“why did you do that, sunghoon?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “why did you have to say all that in front of everyone?”

he looked at you, desperation etched into every line of his face. “because i couldn’t keep it inside anymore,” he said, his voice raw, broken. “i couldn’t pretend. not when… not when all i want is you.”

you shook your head, struggling to keep your composure. “you don’t understand. you can’t just… say things like that, sunghoon. you’re engaged—your family…”

“i don’t care about any of that!” he interrupted, his voice rising. “i don’t care about the engagement, the expectations, any of it. none of it matters if i can’t be with you.”

his words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your defenses crumbling, piece by piece.

but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, clawing at you, refusing to let you give in.

“i don’t need your pity,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “i don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”

he looked at you, hurt flashing in his eyes. “this isn’t pity, y/n. i’m not trying to save you. i just… i just want to be with you.”

for a moment, you stood there, the silence between you filled with all the things left unsaid.

and then, before he could say anything more, you turned and walked away, the tears finally spilling over as you slipped into the cab and closed the door, leaving him standing there alone in the falling snow.

the next morning, you woke with a heavy heart, the memory of last night replaying in your mind.

you felt raw, vulnerable, and yet, there was a faint glimmer of hope buried beneath the ache—a hope that maybe, this was real.

your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at your door.

you rose, heart pounding, and opened it to find sunghoon standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers, his eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept.

you’d expected sunghoon to be at the door, waiting with an apology or a question—but you hadn’t expected him to look so vulnerable.

his usual confidence was gone, replaced by a rawness that mirrored everything you’d felt since the night before.

the bouquet he held was a mix of wildflowers and holiday greenery—red berries and sprigs of pine woven among soft white flowers that stood out against the darkness of the early morning.

when you finally took the bouquet from his hands, your fingers brushed his, sending a jolt of warmth through you.

the simple touch said everything words hadn’t—the apology, the relief, and maybe most of all, the overwhelming sense of rightness that you couldn’t ignore any longer.

the silence stretched, each of you looking at the other, feeling the weight of all that had come before and the fragile hope for what might come next.

he looked at you, eyes searching your face with a hesitance that felt new, uncertain.

“y/n…” he began, his voice soft, each syllable filled with a vulnerability you’d never heard before.

“i know last night was… overwhelming. and i’m sorry if i put you on the spot, but i meant every single word.”

you felt your heart flutter, the sincerity in his gaze unshakable—he looked at you as if you were something precious, something he’d been waiting his whole life to hold close.

and that look, filled with quiet awe and devotion, undid every defense you’d carefully built over the years.

“i was afraid to believe it,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i was so afraid that this would all be some fleeting thing for you. that i’d just be another distraction.”

his brows knit together in disbelief, and he reached up, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

“a distraction?” he murmured, a trace of pain in his voice. “y/n, you’re the only person i’ve ever been able to be… real with. you see me—beyond my name, beyond the expectations. i didn’t know how much i needed that until i met you.”

for a moment, you just looked at him, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a warm blanket.

every snide comment, every misunderstanding, every late night spent working together—each memory replayed in your mind, and suddenly, it all made sense.

what you’d shared wasn’t just rivalry or convenience; it had been the start of something deeper, something real.

“i’ve wanted to hear that for so long,” you said, a soft laugh escaping you. “i just… i couldn’t admit it, not even to myself.”

a slow, relieved smile spread across his face, and he took a step closer, pulling you into a gentle hug. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close in a way that felt so natural, as if you’d been made to fit there.

he smelled faintly of cedar and pine, a comforting, earthy scent that made you feel warm and safe.

you could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, grounding you as everything else melted away.

“then stay with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “stay with me, y/n. i’ll prove to you that this is real. that i’m all in.”

you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, searching for any hint of uncertainty.

but all you saw was unwavering devotion, a promise he seemed ready to carry for as long as you needed.

“i love you, sunghoon,” you said, feeling the words roll off your tongue, soft and unrestrained, like a sigh of relief after holding your breath for too long.

“i think… i’ve loved you for a long time. even when i couldn’t admit it, even when you drove me crazy.”

a soft laugh escaped him, and he looked at you with an expression filled with wonder, as if he, too, had been waiting his whole life to hear those words.

“i never thought i’d hear you say that,” he whispered, his voice thick with admiration and softness.

“neither did i,” you admitted, your smile mirroring his.

he leaned down, cupping your face with gentle hands as he closed the small distance between you.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was soft, warm, and filled with the quiet certainty that this was where you were meant to be.

the world around you faded, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the lingering taste of his kiss.

the weeks that followed felt like a dream.

for the first time, you let yourself enjoy the simplicity of being with him, unburdened by the anxieties that had once kept you apart.

sunghoon’s presence became a comfort, a steady warmth that you found yourself relying on more and more.

with christmas only a few days away, he insisted on taking you to a secluded cabin his family owned, nestled in a quiet of a forest just outside the city.

when you arrived, snow covered the ground in a perfect blanket, undisturbed and glistening under the faint light of a winter sunset.

the cabin was charmingly rustic, decorated with fairy lights and pine wreaths, and a cozy fire crackled in the stone fireplace, filling the room with a comforting warmth.

sunghoon stood behind you as you both took in the view, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“welcome to our first tradition,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with warmth.

“our first tradition?” you echoed, a smile playing on your lips.

he nodded, pulling you closer. “i want to spend every christmas with you. just like this—peaceful, just us. no crowds, no expectations. just you, me, and… maybe a cup of hot chocolate.”

you laughed, turning in his arms to face him. “i could get used to that.”

he smiled, reaching up to brush a snowflake from your hair—the gesture was so tender, so filled with quiet adoration, that your heart swelled with love for him all over again.

“let’s go inside,” he said, taking your hand. “there’s something i want to show you.”

you followed him into the cabin, where he led you to a small table by the window.

on it was a simple, carefully wrapped box with a red ribbon tied around it—he handed it to you, his eyes warm and expectant.

you opened the box to find a small, delicate charm bracelet with a single charm—a tiny snowflake, etched in silver.

it sparkled under the dim light, catching the glow from the fire.

“it’s beautiful, hoon..” you whispered, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

he reached out, clasping it around your wrist with a soft smile. “i wanted something that would remind you of this moment. of us.”

your throat tightened, and you looked up at him, feeling an overwhelming wave of gratitude and love.

he’d given you so much more than a gift—he’d given you a promise, a quiet assurance that he was in this for the long haul.

“thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “merry christmas, y/n.”

as you stood there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the snow began to fall outside, blanketing the world in a peaceful, serene quiet.

the warmth of the cabin, the gentle crackling of the fire, and the soft glow of fairy lights filled the space, making it feel like you were in your own little world.

and in that moment, you realized that everything you’d gone through—every argument, every misunderstanding, every long, quiet night spent wondering what could have been—had all been worth it.

because it had led you here, to this moment, to him.

the rest of the night was spent in quiet conversation, sharing dreams and hopes for the future as you watched the snow fall outside.

you talked about everything and nothing, feeling the joy of being together without any walls between you.

the future was a blank canvas, filled with endless possibilities, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to picture it—each memory, each holiday, painted with sunghoon by your side.

as the night drew to a close, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in his arms, the fire casting soft shadows across the room, wrapping you both in warmth.

sunghoon’s heartbeat was a steady lullaby, soothing and constant, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of it, knowing that this was only the beginning.

and as you closed your eyes, a single thought lingered, filling you with a quiet, profound happiness—

you were finally home.

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @sol3chu @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @moon368 @senascoooop @suneng @onlyjjong @blockbusterhee @wensurr @wiccangirl29 @vousmevoxes @heeswif3y @getoxo @50-husbands @wildtigerlili @letwiiparkjay @loves0ft @yuriknows : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

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marshvlovestv · 16 hours ago

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Oh oh oh, so I've talked before about how incredible it is to see how Double Fine matured in its handling of neurodivergence in the fifteen years between Psychonauts 1 and 2, but you know what else is addressed more sensitively in Psychonauts 2?

War.

The first game talks about war a weird amount, for it not really being the thing that the game is about, and it's all through the lens of insecure dudes in military cosplay (Fred I still love you the most but it had to be said). Oleander got rejected from every branch and now he's made this military fantasyland his whole personality, acting like a drill sergeant around the kids and dreaming up horrible superweapons, and all the while his construct in Lungfishopolis proves he doesn't really understand how the Navy works or how a revolution against the military complex would actually look. (Aside, I still find it very funny that Psychonauts 2 establishes that designing superweapons is just something he does all the time, even when he's good, and Hollis's austerity is the only thing getting in his way.) Waterloo World, meanwhile, has its roots in a real world conflict, but the real world conflict is not Fred's issue; the things casting a shadow over Fred are the mythologized legacy of Napoleon and a board game which is an abstracted mockery of real military strategy.

And all of this, treating the war and military as some abstract fantasy, is just for giggles and goofs. Which is totally fine by the way! Psychonauts is a comedy game and a dark one at that. I don't have a problem with a comedy deriving some harmless laughs from a dark topic. I'm just pointing out that the first game had an odd and irreverent fascination with war so I can say that the contrast between it and Psychonauts 2 is kind of mind-boggling.

In Psychonauts 2, war is no longer some heady hypothetical thing. This game puts an actual, in-universe war at the center of its backstory. This war had real casualties. It tore apart families, displaced people from their homes, left so much pain in its wake that even mentioning the name Maligula is said to cause a massive psychic outcry. Of course, every character in the game who was touched by this war has trauma coming out of their ears. And the villain of the piece is Gristol, the one person who (despite, yes, having associated traumas of his own) doesn't take what happened seriously, the person who wants the war machine that was Maligula to come back.

Anyway so yeah I played Psychonauts for one (1) hour yesterday and the Video Game Thoughts are alllllll coming back.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #morceau oleander #fred bonaparte #gristol malik #psychonauts 2 spoilers

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months ago

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the slow night

buttercup, chapter six

a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.

summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3244

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids.

“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”

Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”

Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.

“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”

“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”

“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.

“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”

A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.”

Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them.

Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen.

The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button.

Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.

“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit.

You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs.

A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms.

“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared.

“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.

“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”

“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”

“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”

Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot.

Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue.

Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip.

Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.

Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more.

Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt.

Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you.

“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees.

Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north.

Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips.

Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge.

A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core.

“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.

Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head.

“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull.

“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”

Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?”

“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.

It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”

Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”

As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants.

“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk.

“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso.

“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.”

You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high.

Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity.

“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”

Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.

Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his.

His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you.

But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick.

“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion.

“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.

Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise.

Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”

Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width.

“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”

Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge.

With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths.

As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.”

With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen.

As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”

“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be.

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.”

Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”

Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”

“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”

“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?”

“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in.

“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you.

A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”

Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”

Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud.

“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again.

Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face.

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock smut #marvel smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil smut

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ebsmind · 11 months ago

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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ❀ tom blyth x fem!actress reader

summary : reader is tom’s gf and stars in the new A Good Girls Guide to Murder (book to tv adaptation) as Andie Bell

warnings : none besides reader playing a dead girl in a tv series

a/n : i can’t believe i caved…. BUT IDC THIS WAS SO FUN TO MAKE 😼

also everyone in the orginal casting for aggtm is the same (except andie ofc)

and ofc i just wanted to tag and say thank you to my fav people on here 🫶🏻 yall are one of the main reasons why i did this 💗 @ghostfacd @marvelsswansong @goosita @maysileeewrites i love yall!!!

ynuser a + s ❤️

tagged : @/hojay92 & @/rahulpattni27

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tomblyth so proud of you my darling ❤️

↳ ynuser i love you

↳ user1 STOP I CANNOT

ememyers my fav dead girl 🫶🏻

↳ ynuser PLS PEOPLE ARE GONNA THINK IM ACTUALLY DEAD

user1 ur literally the only one who could play andie

user2 slayed the house down houston i’m deceased

user3 please tell me you read the series before auditioning

↳ ynuser yup i did 😼

↳ tomblyth you’re such a bookworm 🙃

user4 PLS TOM CALLING HER A BOOKWORM THEY’RE SO CUTEEEE

rahulpattni27 the andie to my sal 🖤

↳ ynuser always 🤍

hojay92 MY BABIES

❤️ by creator

user5 pls if i was tom i would be weary of y/n and rahul bc they’re a little too friendly

↳ user6 u need to chill they are literally costars who play each others love interests

rachelzegler gonna read the books just so i can watch this show

↳ ynuser rachel in her bookworm era??

user7 slay

user8 MOTHERRRRR

tomblyth quick trip to paris with lovie

tagged : @/ynuser

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ynuser you make me so happy

↳ tomblyth and you make me the happiest man alive

↳ user1 pls i want what they have

ynuser also can we pls talk about how happy i was to see the eiffel tower 😭😭

↳ user2 the video he posted of you squealing when the tower shimmered 🥺

user3 can y/n fight? bc the all black fit is doing something to me

↳ ynuser my mom made me take karate when i was 7

↳ user3 OHHHH?????

user4 god i love my parents

rachelzegler where was my invite???

↳ joshandresrivera leave the love birds alone babe

❤️ by creator

user5 rachel just like me fr

user6 tom NEEDS to put a ring on it before i do

rachelzegler just posted on their story!

ynuser trailer for aggtm is out now!! go watch it 🤍🕵🏻‍♀️

tagged : @/ememyers & @/hojay92

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ememyers 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

❤️ by creator

user1 BRO THE TRAILER IS SOOOO GOOD I CANT WAIT!!!

user2 y/n was born to play andie

tomblyth so incredibly proud of you!! you killed it ❤️

↳ rahulpattni27 she truly did!!!

↳ ynuser awwww thank you guys!!! i love you both 🤍

user3 tom and rahul interacting??? oh my

user4 SLAY

rahulpattni27 ❤️❤️❤️

❤️ by creator

holjay92 my baby!!! the perfect andie 🥺

↳ ynuser momma!!! ily

user5 holly 🤝🏼 supporting all of her kids

user6 just by the looks of the trailer this show is gonna be SO GOOD

oliviarodrigo can’t wait to watch!!! i miss you

↳ ynuser i miss you more!!

user7 tom being so supportive >>>

rachelzegler you played the best dead girl there could ever be

↳ ynuser bae ily 💗💗

↳ tomblyth ummm what about me???

#this was so fun to make!!!#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #social media #social media au #coriolanus snow #billy the kid #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #ebs writes thing!#userebs

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superprofesh · 5 months ago

Text

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 5

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The fifth time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — when you finally decide you've waited long enough to tell him what he means to you.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.5k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: Things are heating up!!! As you can tell, this chapter is a bit longer, and I can promise you, it's got a lot of good stuff in it :D By far my favorite chapter to write so far. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have, and I appreciate all your kind words and support so much!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A week after you’ve made an official friendship declaration with Colt Seavers, you’re back on the dim, grimy underground train station set, getting ready to watch him throw himself in front of a moving train.

At the moment, Colt is standing on the other side of the train tracks, and you’re watching him from a considerable distance across the set. You have every reason to be there — this is the set you’ve been working on day and night for the last month, after all — but you’re not the least bit worried about any of your props or decorations. All you care about is making sure Colt pulls off one of his most dangerous stunts yet.

It’s been a strange week for you. On one hand, you’re glad that Colt knows you have some feelings for him, and that your friendship has been able to carry on without becoming awkward. His sincere, unexpected apology only made your feelings stronger, but you’re trying to ignore that.

All the same, being “just friends” is the slowest, most excruciating torture you’ve ever known. For one whole week, Colt has not done a single thing that could be interpreted as overly flirtatious, just as he promised he wouldn’t so you could be spared the pain. No subtle touches, no saucy looks, no double-edged words. It’s kind of him, really.

It also hurts like a razorblade on a third-degree burn.

Still, it’s better than nothing. As long as you can have him in your life in some way, you’re satisfied to try to quell these overwhelming feelings that threaten to break free at any moment. You’re in love with him — you know that now if you never knew it before — but you just have to be content knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way. That you have to love him as you’d love a friend.

So here you are, being a supportive friend as he casts himself headfirst into a dangerous situation. This stunt involves standing in for the film’s star, Tom Ryder, whose character is supposed to be shackled to a railroad track directly in the path of a moving train, only to break free just in time. Colt’s job is to pretend to be shackled down and jump up in plenty of time to clear the path of the moving train, which is, to your great dismay, not a prop in the slightest.

As the camera crew makes their last arrangements to start filming this shot, Colt turns from fiddling with a handcuff prop to catch your eyes in the crowd that has gathered to watch. He smiles when he sees you, lifting a hand in greeting and throwing his trademark thumbs-up high above his head.

Your heart speeds up at the sight of Colt’s smile, and you wave back at him in what you hope is an encouraging manner.

“Hey, relax,” a female voice says in your ear. You turn to see Holly grinning at you as she walks back to the cameras that are already in position. “He’s done this kind of thing a million times.”

You cut your eyes at her with a smirk. “I’m not worried,” you insist.

Holly lifts both eyebrows and laughs at you, always able to read what you’re really thinking. You laugh with her, glad to feel the knot in your stomach loosening a little. Holly gives your hand a quick squeeze in encouragement before taking her place at the lead camera station.

When you look back at the set, Colt is already in position, crouched down on one knee with his hands behind his back. You know he’s not actually tied down, but even seeing the fake handcuffs almost makes you wish you hadn’t come to watch.

Elijah Gordon, the director, is shouting some instructions at the crew as they make their last-minute preparations. He’s already cued the train to start moving, as it takes nearly half a mile to get the desired speed for the shot.

“One minute, people!” Gordon bellows, situating himself on a camera dolly high enough that he can see the action below. “We’re doing this in one take, or we’re not doing it at all. Colt, remember I want it to look real!”

Colt grins up at Gordon, his face smeared with fake dirt and his teeth shining like a white band through the grime. “It is real, Gordon!”

Gordon gives a curt nod, then listens to a voice over the walkie-talkie. Though your mind is focused on watching Colt, you can’t help the creeping disdain that you always feel when it comes to Elijah Gordon. The man is a phenomenal director, but he’s also the most callous, self-centered, inconsiderate person you’ve ever known. Knowing Colt’s life is more or less in Gordon’s hands makes you feel queasy.

The train whistle pierces the echoey tunnel chamber, and Gordon lifts his megaphone to shout, “Roll cameras!”

You put both hands over your mouth, dreading having to watch the scene play out. Colt looks entirely confident where he kneels on the railroad track, but you can’t help wondering what he feels in moments like this. Does he get scared? Does he lose faith in his own abilities? Does he ever doubt that the stunt will work perfectly? Can he afford to think like that?

A second train whistle stabs your ears, and you can feel your heart beating faster than ever before. You feel like you’re the one lingering on the tracks.

You can see the train now, and your eyes flit back to Colt, whose face is mostly hidden by the bandanna tied around his forehead. His muscles are tensed, ready to spring away at the perfect second. Gordon is shouting directions, his voice barely audible above the racket of the approaching train. He holds up his hand high in the air, signaling to Colt to stay in position.

The train eats up another hundred feet. Two hundred. Three hundred. Five hundred. Gordon’s hand doesn’t budge, and Colt keeps his eyes on the director for his cue to move.

You can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears, and it takes all your willpower not to screw your eyes shut. You keep them open as if caught in a trance, bouncing back and forth between Colt and the train as if you’re watching a tennis match.

The train rumbles closer and closer, now near enough that you can see the face of the man driving the engine. You hold your breath, waiting for Gordon to throw his hand down in a signal to Colt.

But Gordon’s hand doesn’t move. Another screeching whistle. The train is less than a hundred yards away now.

You know he should have given Colt the signal by now — you were there for the days of blocking and planning that went into this scene. Suddenly your lungs constrict as you realize Gordon is pushing Colt for a few more seconds on the tracks, long enough to make the film audiences gasp.

“Stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs, but your voice is drowned out by the roar of the train. Your feet are carrying you in a sprint before you even register your own movement. Two hundred feet away now.

“Gordon, stop it!” The director can’t hear you, but Holly does, whirling around and grabbing you by both arms to stop you from getting any closer to the set. You can see Colt’s eyes get wider as he realizes that Gordon isn’t lowering his arm.

Everything in your entire being is shuddering, wanting to shut down, wanting to scream, to explode into action, but Holly beckons for two other crew members to help hold you back. All you can do is watch as the train draws closer and Colt waits for Gordon’s signal. One hundred feet.

“Holly, make him stop!” you scream at your friend, whose distressed expression tells you you’re not alone in your confused panic.

At the last second, with the train less than fifty feet away, Gordon throws his hand down, and Colt is already in motion, somersaulting off the track and into the safety zone as the train — all forty tons of it — whizzes over the space that Colt occupied seconds ago.

Holly and her two crew members hold you back a second longer, and when the red light on the camera flickers off, you break past them and run as fast as you can onto the set. You can barely see where to step as you climb over the platform and down into the dingy, darkened train tunnel, tears blurring your vision and your pulse hammering in your ears.

Colt is leaning against the wall of the tunnel, his face as white as a ghost. Several crew members have already gathered around him, but you shove past them and throw your arms around his neck, uncaring of what anyone might think. You can feel Colt trembling in your arms even as his easygoing voice whispers in your ear, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Once you’re satisfied that he really is alive, you pull back, framing his face in your hands and searching his eyes with what you know must be a crazed look. Colt doesn’t say anything more; the color is slowly returning to his face, and his nerves are calming down now that the adrenaline wears off. He doesn’t, however, loosen his grip on you, betraying how shaken he still is.

“Nice work, Colt,” bellows a voice from the train platform. “That was just what we needed.”

At the sound of Gordon’s voice, all you can see is red.

Setting your jaw, you turn away from Colt and stride back to the platform with more rage than you can remember feeling in your entire life. Every muscle in your body is quaking visibly, and your voice rings out loud and clear over the chaos in the set when you shout, “How dare you?”

Gordon turns from his conversation with a cameraman and gives you a nonplussed glance. When he realizes that your yell and your power walk are directed at him, he dismisses the cameraman to deal with you head-on.

“Something you want to discuss?” Gordon asks you, condescension dripping from his voice.

Behind you, you hear Colt making his way onto the platform, his calm voice assuring you, “Hey, it’s okay—”

But you’re not in the mood to be comforted. “It is not okay, Colt,” you shout, your eyes still locked on Gordon. Every eye on the set is directed at you, now that you’ve chosen to make a huge scene with Elijah Gordon himself. Colt pulls to a stop beside you, but your words are still pointed at Gordon. “How could you make him do that? How dare you make him do that?”

“There wasn’t any real risk, kid,” Gordon says flippantly. “Keep your bonnet on.”

“No real risk?” you demand. “Did we just see the same scene? Colt was trying to get off the tracks to stay alive, and you forced him to stay on longer so you could get a ‘closer call’ on camera.”

Gordon’s brows lower at that. “Again, not life-threatening,” he snaps. “If it were, Colt wouldn’t have finished the stunt, and I wouldn’t have made him do it.”

“You weren’t the one staring down the headlights of a train!”

Colt rests his hand on your elbow in an attempt to get you to calm down, but Gordon fires back at you immediately, “He’s a stuntman, my dear. In case you folks in the set decorating department don’t know what that is, it means he does stunts. Sometimes those stunts are dangerous.”

Gordon’s arrogance only inflames your anger more. “I am completely aware that his job comes with risks,” you shout. “But those risks shouldn’t come from a toffee-nosed director who thinks human life is something to play with like a deck of cards.”

You feel Colt stiffen beside you, and his grip on your arm grows firmer. “Hey, it seriously is okay,” Colt assures you. “Just drop it.”

“I’m not dropping it, Colt. If that train had been a few seconds off count, you wouldn’t be part of this conversation. You’d be in pieces on the train tracks.”

Gordon raises his hands to cut in, replacing the harshness in his voice with honey. “Listen, my dear, let’s just keep a clear picture of who you are, all right? You’re here to make the sets look good. You do that very nicely, and I appreciate it. So why don’t you keep your little toffee-nosed opinions off the set where the actual movies are being made, okay?”

You feel a shift in Colt’s body language again, but this time, it’s directed towards Gordon. You stand your ground, shooting a steely-eyed stare at the director that would make any action star proud.

“I bet your producers wouldn’t appreciate hearing that you risked the life of their top stuntman,” you tell him softly.

Gordon laughs out loud at that, as do a few of the crew members standing around him. “Listen, sweetheart, the producers pay me to make their movies look good,” he informs you. His voice changes then, affecting a curious, offended tone. “Aren’t you the one who’s been on a little crusade lately about doing everything with practical effects? You want to change your stance and say I should do all the stunts in VFX? Your boyfriend will be out of a job if I do that.”

A few more crew members laugh, trying to reduce some of the tension that is radiating between you. You know you’re the only person who’s freaking out about Colt’s close call — it’s not like he hasn’t done this sort of thing before — but you can’t help feeling like this is important.

“You absolute scumbag,” you hiss at Gordon. “You seriously are going to play this off like it’s just part of the process? Colt almost died—”

Holly comes up on your other side now, setting a calming hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, just—”

“I bet your producers would have loved to hear about that—”

“You need to calm down—” Holly says more firmly.

“And don’t you dare try to throw my own words at me like I’ve supported you risking people’s lives for a cool shot—”

Colt’s voice now. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“It is a big deal!” you explode, your voice echoing through the train station. “I mean, am I seriously the only one who sees any value in your life?”

Your comment is heavy, and everyone seems to feel the weight of it. Gordon hesitates, his eyes flicking back and forth between you, Colt, and Holly as if to make sure he’s not about to be physically attacked. The usual buzz of the crew is dead silent.

Finally, Gordon clears his throat and says dismissively, “If you’ve got a problem with me, kid, talk to the studio and see if they care. I can promise you they won’t.” He takes one step closer to you, and in a lower voice adds, “And in the meantime, keep your mouth shut about my processes. You’re good at your job, and I’d hate for you to have to get kicked off set just because you can’t keep your personal life separate from your professional one.”

With that, Gordon whirls around and walks back to the cameras to review the shot.

You’re still trembling with anger, your voice drying up in your throat as you realize that everyone in the crowd is still staring at you. You’re not ashamed of what you said, but you’re embarrassed that everyone on set had to witness it.

Ducking your head, you pull away from Colt and Holly and start walking out of the train station set. Only when the warm afternoon air hits your face do you realize tears have been streaming down your cheeks.

Colt is just a few steps behind you, and you look at him wordlessly, trying to read his expression. There’s not a trace of anger or confusion in his eyes — just a deep gratitude and affection. He slings his arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the set.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The irony of that question isn’t lost on you. “This isn’t about me, Colt,” you state bluntly. You raise questioning eyes to him. “Does it really not bother you that he jeopardized you? Completely unnecessarily?”

Colt shrugs, his brow furrowing as he thinks. He seems so calm now, no traces of the panicky fear he couldn’t hide immediately after the stunt. “If I felt like it was unsafe,” he says carefully, “I would have jumped off the track no matter what he said.”

Another second, and it would have been too late.

“I know,” you acknowledge, a hint of emotion creeping into your voice. “I just… I don’t know. Just… seeing everyone act like it’s so casual and not important. Like your life doesn’t even make that much of a difference—”

“Hey,” Colt murmurs, stopping and turning you to face him so he can put both hands on your shoulders. “You are reading way too far into this, Picasso. No one is trying to eradicate my existence here.”

His tone is light and his eyes twinkling, and you know he’s trying to get you to laugh this off. But you just can’t.

“I know,” you whisper. “I just hate that it seems like I’m the only one who cares if you live or die. Including you.”

Your last statement makes Colt pause. You see the hesitation in his eyes as he mulls over what you’re implying. “Not true,” he replies at last, pulling you back under one arm as you resume walking towards the tents that have been set up for the crew.

“Really? Because you act like you don’t care.” Your voice holds no edge, no accusation. “You get more and more reckless with every stunt, and it just… it kills me to watch.”

You know you’re saying too much. You know you’re pushing the “just friends” agreement. But you can’t stop.

Colt takes his time responding to that. Suddenly, he seems to be really listening to the hidden meanings in your words, realizing that your outburst toward Gordon was indicative of something a lot deeper, something that you’re trying to communicate to him now. You can feel his steady heartbeat against your side, the gentle pressure of his hand on your shoulder. His steps are perfectly synchronized with yours.

“Look, I don’t have a death wish,” Colt explains at last, a serious note in his voice. “This is my job; I love the danger that comes with it. It’s like I said, both of us do our jobs because it’s our passion, no matter the risks.”

You shake your head. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was mad at you.”

Colt genuinely chuckles at that. “Believe me, it was obvious who you were mad at.”

“I guess I overdid it, huh?” You can feel some of the intense anger in your chest melting, and you let yourself release a slight laugh as you realize just what a spectacle you made: screaming at one of the world’s top directors on his own set.

“Maybe a little,” Colt confirms kindly. Once the two of you step inside one of the empty tents, he lifts his arm off your shoulders, and you turn to lean back against one of the wooden tables so you can face him. His face is still smeared with grime, and it suddenly reminds you of the moment you shared a few weeks ago, marking each other’s faces with your oil paints.

“I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it,” you concede, letting your gaze fall to the ground. “I just… felt like it needed to be said after literally everyone on set witnessed it.”

Colt nods, smirking at you and crossing his arms to lean against one of the structure beams. “Hey, I appreciated it,” he says with a wink. “No one’s ever challenged a director to demand safer working conditions for me.”

“Maybe it’s about time,” you shoot back, your heart speeding up.

“Maybe.”

The moment falls quiet. The tent is empty besides the two of you, and all you can hear is the sound of each other’s breathing and the gentle rustling of the wind against the flaps of the tent. Colt tilts his head back against the beam he’s leaning on, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. You can tell that this stunt took a toll on him, even if he’s not showing it.

Without warning, all the feelings you’ve been hiding for the last few months threaten to spill out of your lips. Maybe it was seeing him so close to death; maybe it was your impassioned rant; maybe it’s just what happens when you love someone with the desperation of a drowning person reaching for air.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt out, “I really do care about you, you know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes or lift his head back up. “Well, if I didn’t, I certainly do now.”

His tone is humorous, but you’re not letting it go now that you’re committed. It’s now or never. “No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I know we’re just doing the friendship thing, but either way, I really care about you.” Colt lifts his head to fix his eyes on you, and you choose your next words carefully so he won’t misunderstand your meaning. “If you ever think that no one cares if you survive the stunts or not, I hope you know it’s not true. There’s one person in the world who would probably go insane without you around.”

Colt doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t sound completely serious either when he responds, “Ah, you’d be fine.”

“Please tell me you don’t honestly think that.”

“Look, Picasso, I’m just one guy in the world,” Colt reminds you, shaking his head as if he’s explaining something very simple. “You’re going to meet thousands in your career, which I know is going to be super long and super star-studded. You’ve got everything in your life to look forward to.”

You frown at him, caught off guard by his seemingly off-topic response. “Colt, what are you even talking about?”

He swallows hard, looking off to the side and trying to disguise the emotion tinging his voice. “I’m just… trying to tell you not to put so many big expectations on me. I’m the kind of guy who can only let you down.”

Your heart plummets at his words, and suddenly everything falls into place in your mind. He does care. He’s always cared. He just won’t show it because he thinks he isn’t good enough. The most wonderful man in the world thinks he isn’t good enough.

“That is not true,” you declare, standing up straight for emphasis. “You’re the kindest person I know, and the smartest, and the bravest, and the funniest—”

“I think you’re confusing me with Keanu Reeves.”

“I’m not joking around, Colt. When I’m with you, I can just be myself, and I know you’re going to be there for me. You’ve seen me at my worst, but you act like you only remember me at my best. I know it sounds crazy, but I keep getting this feeling that everything in my life has led up to meeting you. Everything you do means so much to me. Every word you say, every minute we spend together is so, so precious to me. You are so precious to me.”

Your speech seems to stun Colt senseless. You have no idea where all that came from — you just knew that you wouldn’t be able to breathe until you had told him what you were feeling. Colt stands still as he processes your words, and you don’t regret a single one.

“Wow,” he finally whispers. “I have no follow-up for that.”

You shake your head, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t need one,” you tell him. “I just… felt like I should say it.”

Colt mulls over your words again. You wonder if anyone has ever talked to him like this, if you’re really the first one who has ever looked at him like he hung the moon in the sky. How could I be? How is it possible that no one else has ever recognized you for the treasure that you are?

“It means a lot,” Colt replies softly. “Seriously, you… you have no idea. Thank you.”

You just nod in response, not sure where to go from here. Colt isn’t acting like himself, overcome by some emotion that you’re not sure of. You don’t know whether to reiterate your statements, or to wait for him to say something, or to just stand in silence together for awhile.

Colt finally breaks the silence. “You sure you’re okay?”

You almost laugh at that, some of the tension sliding out of the atmosphere. “Yeah,” you assure him with a smile. “As long as you are.”

He nods at you, his own smile returning in a quiet sort of way. You’re transfixed by the gentle light reflecting in his eyes, the relaxed slope of his shoulders, when he holds out both arms to you, lifting an eyebrow as an invitation.

You don’t hesitate for a second. Why should you, after you just confessed every secret thought in your heart?

You step into the warm circle of his arms, and he immediately lowers his forehead to rest in the curve of your neck. Colt seems so unsure of himself in this moment, in a way that you’ve never known him to be. He’s trembling slightly again the way he was after he had just leaped off the railroad tracks. You grip your arms around his neck even tighter, and Colt wraps his arms around you so tightly you can barely breathe.

In that moment, you know your assumption was correct. He does care about you as deeply as you do about him. You can feel it in his embrace, in his very heartbeat. Every time you move to pull him closer, he mirrors your movements, closing every inch of space that has ever separated you. The grimy film makeup on his face rubs off on your neck, but it’s the sweetest touch you ever felt.

Colt catches you off guard when he tilts his head just slightly to the side, just enough that his lips are resting on the side of your neck. His manner isn’t seductive or suggestive: it’s as if he’s just breathing you in, trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms. Your sensitive skin prickles at the sensation, and one of your hands finds its way up to thread in the ragged-cut hair at the base of his neck.

You can feel his impressive strength just by the way he holds you, but you can’t help marveling at the gentleness of his hands when he reaches up to stroke the back of your head, once, twice. When he cradles the base of your neck with all the tenderness of an old lover, your stomach twists itself into a knot. He’s killing you. It’s magnificent.

Colt finally lifts his head from your shoulder, his hand still resting at the back of your head. His thumb moves in lazy circles, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and his eyes drag up your face slowly until they meet your own in a gaze that burns hotter than a supernova.

“I’ve never told you,” you whisper, your breath filling the few inches between your faces, “and I know I probably shouldn’t, but I’m in love with you.”

The words are hardly out of your mouth when Colt squeezes his eyes closed, a look of pain crossing his face. “Don’t. It’s not worth it,” he whispers back.

“It’s too late for that,” you tell him, tears choking your voice. “You don’t have to feel the same way. I just needed you to know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes, just shakes his head. “You don’t want to be in love with me,” he says softly, heartbreakingly. “My destination is a dead-end, and you deserve better than that.”

“Colt, I—”

“It’s better if we don’t go this route,” he tells you, opening his eyes so you can read the seriousness in his words. “You’ve got the most amazing future ahead of you. You’re going to be a lot better off without me dragging you down.”

Your heart constricts at his words. “Don’t you dare try to be noble about this,” you murmur, lifting your hands to frame his face. “You could never drag me down, and I couldn’t care less about what you think I ‘deserve.’ All I care about is you. All I want to do is love you, no matter what happens. If you really don’t feel that way about me, just say so. But if you feel as strongly for me as I do for you, please tell me. Please don’t break this off before we have a chance to even try it.”

The look that wells up in Colt’s eyes speaks to you in a language you’ve never understood before. His eyes roam your face, as if he’s searching for some hint that your words aren’t true, some way he can talk you out of your feelings. Realization dawns in his eyes as he reads the message you’re saying in everything but your words. I love you. I’ve loved you this whole time. You will always be enough for me. My heart is so full of you it barely even feels like it’s mine anymore.

He doesn’t kiss you — the distance between your lips and his feels like an interminable distance — but he lowers his face to yours in a way that is so tender, so intimate that all the breath leaves your body at once. He lets his cheek rest against yours, his beard brushing your skin softly, gently. You let your arms wrap around his neck again to pull him closer, nuzzling the side of his face with yours so he feels your meaning: I don’t ever want to let you go.

When his lips brush against your jaw, right below your ear, you can’t suppress your sharp intake of breath. You feel his hands resting on your waist, pulling you close against him, and you can hear his breath coming raggedly. He’s so different when he’s like this — no false confidence, no alleviating jokes, just the passion he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

You slide your fingers into his hair, and you can feel him react to your touch instantly. He raises his face from where he’s been resting it against yours, savoring in the contact every slow inch he moves. His eyes are closed when he brings his face level with yours again, his breath ghosting over your lips in a way that is so effortlessly tantalizing. It takes all your strength not to tip your head back and drown in his kiss.

With his hand still resting on the back of your neck, Colt pulls you in close one more time, letting his forehead touch yours gently. You close your eyes, breathing in the scent that envelops him — pine needles, cinnamon, and something salty. One moment more, just enough to savor how it feels to be wrapped up in the very essence of him, and Colt pulls back, releasing you from his hold.

“I just can’t do it to you, Picasso,” Colt says, his voice hoarse and strained. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart plummets at his words. It wasn’t enough. All of it wasn’t enough to convince him of your love. Your words are the opposite of what you want to say, but you know there can be no other response. “If that’s what you want,” you answer quietly. “I’ll respect it.”

“I know.”

You take a few steps back, trying to ignore the agony that is so obvious is his voice. Colt still looks like he wants to snatch you back into his arms and beg you to repeat the confession you just laid at his feet, but he doesn’t. He’s too strong, too stubborn, too sure he’s truly doing the right thing by letting you go. You don’t try to talk him out of it. You love him too much to try to change his mind.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You take care of yourself,” you murmur with a sad smile. “I mean it.”

“I will.” Colt doesn’t even attempt a smile back, the ache in his heart obvious on his face. His gaze wanders over your face for a moment longer, and then he turns and ducks out of the tent.

Once he’s gone, all you can do is bury your face in your hands and weep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 6

#GUYS IT'S MY FAVORITE ONE YET #i let out so many silent screams while writing this #i hope you can tell how much i adore writing these #fanfiction #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers fanfiction #original #colt seavers #the fall guy #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fanfiction #the five times colt seavers almost kisses you (and the one time he does)

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clearexpertarcade · 21 days ago

Text

Sam sat on the couch, still in his red underwear, staring down at the plate of pancakes Holly had placed in front of him. The morning light streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over his body. His eyes drifted downward, focusing on the way his belly now slightly drooped over the waistband of his underwear, a soft pooch that hadn’t been there before.

The plate of pancakes looked delicious—golden and topped with syrup, banana slices, and fresh strawberries. His stomach growled at the sight, despite how full he already felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt truly hungry anymore; Holly always made sure he was well-fed. Too well-fed, in fact.

He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling his gut press into his thighs as he leaned forward to grab the plate. The waistband of his red underwear felt tighter, digging slightly into his sides, a constant reminder of the pounds he’d been putting on lately. He tried to suck in his belly, but it hardly made a difference. There was no denying it anymore—he was getting bigger, and it was all because of Holly’s cooking.

“Babe, are you sure I should be having a third plate of pancakes?” he asked, his voice unsure as he poked at his belly with one hand. “I feel kinda full, and I’m nervous all this extra eating is messing up my body.”

Holly, busy in the kitchen, waved him off with a smile. “Nonsense, you look amazing, Sam. Fit as ever. Plus, I made these just for you! You wouldn’t want them to go to waste, would you?”

Sam bit his lip. He knew she meant well—she loved cooking for him, and he loved her for it. But his waistband told a different story. Still, the thought of disappointing her was worse than the discomfort he felt in his now too-tight underwear. He glanced at the pancakes again, his stomach growling louder, and sighed.

“Alright, I guess just one more,” he muttered to himself, leaning forward to take the first bite.

The taste was heavenly, just like always. The sweetness of the syrup mixed with the softness of the pancakes, melting in his mouth. He couldn’t help but smile, his initial hesitation fading as he savored the meal. Each bite was delicious, but as he swallowed, he could feel his stomach stretching further, the tightness around his waistband becoming more pronounced. He rubbed his belly absentmindedly, feeling it swell slightly with each forkful.

Halfway through the plate, Sam leaned back, groaning quietly. His gut pushed forward even more now, fully hanging over the waistband of his underwear. He ran a hand over it, feeling its firmness beneath the softness. Holly always said he looked amazing, but how much longer could he keep eating like this before it became impossible to ignore?

“Thanks for making these, babe,” Sam said as Holly walked over to clear the table. “But I’m really starting to feel it. I think I need to slow down…”

Holly leaned down, kissing him on the forehead before giving his belly a playful pat. “You’re fine, Sam. Just enjoy it. I love seeing you well-fed.”

Sam forced a smile, though inside, he couldn’t help but wonder how much more his waistband—and his body—could take.

#story

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thekiltongrammarwriter · 6 months ago

Text

Some facts that I just adored from the AGGGTM comic con

Holly says that the series is "very faithful" to the books. "I would love to make the second and third books, but that relies on everyone binging the show all week when it comes out."

Holly Jackson learned through the process that she is a bit of a control freak and has trouble letting go. She was very insistant that they have a woman director. She stuck her nose into the production "wherever she bloody well" could.

They used some of Emma's clothes for the show because her style is so similar to Pips.

Emma worked so hard between scenes. Holly Jackson explains that sometimes she needed "a little power nap" because she was going so hard. (🥺)

Emma: "I would read the scene in the script and then read the same scene in the book. I tried to grapple the differences between them."

Emma hopes that her version of Pip is close to Holly's version. They only had two weeks of prep. Getting to read the book and the script at the same time. Biggest help was having a great casting director.

Emma's phrase to slip into the English accent. "She's only little!" Came from one of the camping scenes.

Emma: It was so nice to be seen past my character in Wednesday. Enid is so "lalala" out there and Pip is very grounded.

Emma on playing the lead character: I remember getting an email asking to meet with Dolly to see how things worked out. They were like "By the way you have to do a British accent" and I was like "So this isn't going to happen."

Emma Myers says that the fan response to her casting was scary but really positive, especially considering she's the only American on the cast

#agggtm #emma myers #a good girls guide to murder #love these facts #comic con 2024 London

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 6 months ago

Note

some Leon fluff where maybe the reader is famous actress and is being discrete (trying to wearing a mask and a baseball cap) enjoying her day in public and bumps into him?

Alright, alright..

But what if we make it that Leon had no idea? 👀

(The title is a word play on Hollywood, you'll get it when you read the story, I promise)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Holly-what?!🎬

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You needed to get out. The press tour had been dragging on for months now and the large amount of interviews and talk show attendances were starting to fry your brain.

You just needed a break to feel like a human again. No questions, no opinions, no fans. But being able to step a foot outside without being met by obnoxious paparazzi and their cameras or squealing fans. You loved them dearly, you did, but... you, too, had your limits.

You never expected to become this big, let alone work with a cast of such talented people. All you wanted was to do what you love, which, unfortunately, was acting. There were pros and cons to all things in life, but acting definitely tipped the scale into the negative side of things.

Sometimes, you missed the little theater you performed at, making good friends along the way and then going back to just being you again.

A curse and a blessing; two sides of the same coin.

With a breath, you stepped out into the city, keeping your head down. A cap sat on your a pair of sunglasses were pushed up onto your nose, a measly disguise, really, but you had to work with what you got.

You were craving for someone to look at you like a regular person and not like one whose face was plastered on every billboard in the area.

The more you walked, the more the tension faded from your drawn up shoulders. No one had talked to you yet, no flashing cameras in sight.

You were even as bold as letting yourself breathe for what felt like the first time in forever.

Your head was held higher now as you strutted through the bustling streets, perfectly content with just being ignored by everyone.

The weather was quite nice and you couldn't even remember when you enjoyed a simple walk like this. Securing yourself a refreshing drink from a little local cafe, you were on a mission to find a small botanical garden that was supposed to be lovely this time of year.

Your brows were furrowed as you desperately tried to make out which street you were on, the flyer that was starting to crease, not helping. You turned every which way and even looked for any signs, but you were unsuccessful.

Despite all your efforts, that stupid flyer was getting you nowhere. You had your nose buried in it, drink in the other hand as you just kept going straight ahead.

You'd end up somewhere eventually, right?

You did end up somewhere.

Running face first into what you thought was a wall, which turned out to be a tall man with the most gorgeous eyes you'd ever seen.

Your drink and the flyer were now splayed out on the floor and your cap was crooked on your head.

"Shit- are you okay?" He asked hurriedly, picking up the, now soaked, map and trying to salvage as much of your drink as possible.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good... are you okay?" You adjusted the cap, taking the flyer from him. He looked stressed to you, a crease between his brows.

"No, yeah, I just... had a long day, that's all." He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You hummed in acknowledgment.

"I'm sorry, I should've looked where I was going. The fault is mine." You apologized, holding onto the empty cup to dispose of it correctly once you spotted the next bin.

"Don't worry about it, no one was hurt." He smiled before his eyes widened at your empty drink.

"Sorry about your drink. I'll buy you a new one." He offered, although it came off more as a statement.

"Oh, no, please. You really don't have to." You chuckled, but he was already dragging you along with him.

"No, I insist. It's the least I can do." He said kindly, glancing at you with a small smile.

You were still so whiplashed from your run-in that you hadn't really registered that he seemingly hadn't recognized you.

He was treating you like he would any other person, and it made you crack a tiny smile.

"So..." he started, his hands shoved into his pockets as he led the way to the nearest place to get a drink, "judging by that god awful flyer, you're not from around here?"

You laughed at his true remark.

"No, I'm not. Just passing through." You hummed in response. He made a quiet sound of acknowledgment before there was a moment of silence between the both of you.

"Do you mind me asking what you were trying to find?" His question caught you off guard, your brows furrowing before they shot up again.

"Oh! I was trying to get to the botanical garden? The flyer said it's supposed to be lovely around this time." You smiled, trying to keep up with his pace.

Upon noticing your struggle, he subtly slowed down his waking speed.

"It is. I could... show you the way if you want?" His tone was surprisingly shy for someone like him.

"That'd be very nice....?" You slightly tilted your head, waiting for a name. His brows raised slightly.

"Oh, Leon. I'm Leon." He replied bashfully, a slight pink tint on his cheeks.

It made you smile, how such a strong and sort of intimidating man wasn't the best at social interactions.

You're doing great, buddy.

You gave him your name, your real name, without even thinking twice. Though, he still didn't seem to know who you were.

He hadn't even asked you about the odd cap and sunnies combo. A gentleman...

"Here we are." He announced, coming to a stop.

"I'll just get some drinks, and then I'll walk you to the garden. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect, Leon." You smiled, watching him walk into the cafe.

You waved at him through the window, which he happily reciprocated with a smile.

What a sweetheart.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The walk to the botanical garden had been simpler than you thought. So simple, in fact, that you now felt stupid.

"I can't believe I walked right past it!" You laughed, taking a sip of your beverage. Leon laughed, too, his blonde hair shining under the sun.

"In your defense, the entrance is a little hard to find if you don't know the city."

"Because there totally wasn't a huge sign plastered on the outside." You remarked, mentally face-palming yourself for missing such an obvious marker.

"Happens to the best of us." Leon smirked over the rim of his cup.

You grumbled a half-hearted fuck off with a smile.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

It was quite easy to stay in a conversion with him as you two walked along the winding paths lined by many different kinds of blooming flowers.

The air smelled sweet, and the buzzing of bees and other insects made up a delightful harmony that welcomed the summer.

You managed to spot some butterflies too admiring their colors and patterns as they fluttered from flower to flower.

Your drinks were now empty as you sat on a bench, sharing stories and laughing.

"Why all the.., you know?" Leon asked, loosely gesturing to your disguise.

You froze a little but quickly gathered yourself.

"I have... sensitive skin. And you know how harsh the sun can be. I have an event coming up, and I don't want to show up looking like a tomato." You chuckled.

"Fair point." He shrugged.

"What kind of event?"

You swallowed, feeling yourself sweat.

"Oh, just... a wedding. Yeah, a friend's wedding." You answered, followed by a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh, nice. Perfect weather." He hummed, absolutely not bothered by the obvious uncertainty and lack of confidence in your response.

You sat and chatted for a while until the sun slowly turned the sky into a beautiful painting of pink and purple.

But that's not what prompted you to leave. You didn't want to, in fact. It had been so nice to get away from everything.

Unfortunately, however, you caught the flash of a camera out of the corner of your eye.

Fucking paparazzi.

The flash slowly started to pick up as more and more people photographed you.

"Hey, Leon, do you have a pen?" You asked, shifting in your seat uncomfortably.

"Sure... why?" He questioned with a confused look, handing you the pen he'd pulled from inside his jacket.

You quickly took his arm and scribbled your number on his skin.

"Hey, what are you-"

"I had a lovely time, I really did. But I have to go now. Call me!" You rushed off, trying to make a discreet yet fast exit.

Leon was left dumbfounded sitting on that bench, wondering why the pretty girl he'd bumped into rushed off, followed by a mob of maniacs with flashing cameras.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The next morning came faster than he wanted to, still hanging on to that feeling of sitting with you in that garden.

He was bummed out, unsurprisingly.

Leon had made sure to write down your number on something more permanent, lest he forget.

He was sipping his usual morning coffee in his favorite cafe while reading the newspaper.

When he turned over the next page, his eyes almost popped out of his hand, and he choked n his coffee when he spotted a picture that was all too familiar on the front page.

Imagine his surprise when he read the bold headline above the photo of the two of you sitting in the botanical garden;

BREAKING NEWS: Oscar nominated actress spotted with new boyfriend.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you liked it!! <3

More Leon here -> 💫

《taglist》: @vampkennedy @k-fallingstar @dmitriene @argreion @leonslittlekennedy @allysunny

Lkm if you want to be added! <3

#bumblebeesfromvenus #Fi answers 🐝#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #resident evil leon #leon kennedy comfort #leon s kennedy fluff #leon kennedy fluff

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heartfullofleeches · 7 months ago

Text

Letters from You

Yan T.V Show Cast + Clown Reader Snippet

Tap....Tap...Knock.....Tap...Tap...Knock

Hm, usually that always does the trick. The strangled hics and sobs beyond the other side of the door depress any chance of your playful banter getting through to the poor jester. On brighter days, she'd hear the secret knock you two came up with together and dry her tears enough to finish things off. Whatever got her upset today was really dragging her down....

"She's been like that all morning, Sunny...." Gus chimes in. The clown has been worried sick about his sibling as presented by the stormy clouds replacing the smiling suns beneath their eyelids. "Not even Holly has been able to get through to her... You're our last hope, Sun..."

"I'll try my best." Pressing your ear to the door, you strike your knuckles against the door - careful not to cause the jester more duress. "Melan? It's Sunday, do you want to talk? We'll leave you alone if you need space, but we all just want to make sure you're okay...."

Through whimpers and sobs, a small, quivering voice bleeds through.

"M...my letter.... I can't go anywhere without my letter! They promised.... They promised to write to me everyday...."

Oh, no... Placing your hand on your pants pocket, your fingers trace out the rectangular shape within the fold. How could you forget something so important to her?

You pull the crumpled envelope from your pocket, smoothing out its corners as you speak up. "Melan! I have that letter from your penpal. Handyman must've given it to me by mistake. I'll read it out loud for you, got it?"

You open the letter up as the sniffling stops almost entirely.

"Dear Melan,

Hey there, Melan! How's my favorite jester doing today? I got the drawings you sent with your last letter. I'll hang them up in my room soon as I have the chance. Ice cream is one my favorite desserts too. Maybe we can have some together someday. If not, have an extra bowl in my honor!

Are you taking care of yourself and your siblings? How's your practice going? I heard you can juggle two pins without dropping them now, I'm so proud of you! You're getting better and better everyday - that's why you're my favorite jester.

Lots of love, your dear penpal - Y/n."

The room on the other side of the door goes dead quiet.

"Melan?...."

A creak in the floorboards - followed by another. They continue until -click- the door unlocks.

"Th... thank you, Sunday... I'll be out in a minute. I'm sorry for worrying you...."

#sunday broadcast #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere clown

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yourmomsawh0r3 · 4 months ago

Note

Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader. They're celebrating Christmas as a family with their children. ( idk if they celebrated it back then) Just something fluff and cute. Maybe a tradition was born. You decide what it was. Thanks!! :))

A Bridgerton Christmas

benedict bridgerton x fem wife reader

The Bridgerton household was alight with festive cheer. The grand estate was adorned with garlands of holly and ivy, while the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked gingerbread wafted through the halls. Snow had blanketed the grounds outside, transforming the landscape into a winter wonderland. Inside, warmth radiated from every corner, courtesy of the roaring fireplaces and the love that permeated the air.

Benedict Bridgerton, ever the artist, had spent the morning with his children, helping them craft intricate paper snowflakes and ornaments to hang on the tree. Each child’s creation was unique, a testament to the imagination and creativity that Benedict so cherished in them. Y/N, his beloved wife, had been bustling about the kitchen, overseeing the preparation of the Christmas feast with the help of the household staff. She wore an apron over her elegant dress, a slight smudge of flour on her cheek only adding to her radiant charm.

As the afternoon sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the snow-covered grounds, Benedict gathered the children in the drawing room. Their laughter and excitement filled the space as they eagerly awaited the evening’s festivities. Y/N joined them shortly, her smile lighting up the room as she carried a tray of hot cocoa, each mug topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

“Who’s ready to decorate the tree?” Benedict asked, his eyes twinkling with joy.

A chorus of enthusiastic cheers erupted from the children, and they all scrambled to their feet, rushing towards the towering evergreen that stood in the corner of the room. The tree was already adorned with twinkling lights and a few cherished ornaments, but it awaited the special touch of the Bridgerton family.

One by one, they hung their handcrafted decorations, each child carefully selecting the perfect branch for their creation. Benedict lifted the youngest, a giggling little girl, so she could place her star at the very top of the tree. Y/N stood back, admiring the scene, her heart swelling with love and pride.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered, slipping her hand into Benedict’s.

“It is,” he agreed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “But not as beautiful as you.”

Y/N blushed, leaning into him as they watched their children. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, the spirit of Christmas infusing every moment with magic.

Once the tree was complete, the family gathered around the fireplace. Benedict took out his sketchbook, capturing the scene with swift, sure strokes. The children were transfixed, watching their father bring their Christmas to life on the page.

“Papa, can you tell us a story?” one of the older children asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Benedict smiled, closing his sketchbook. “Of course. Let’s see… how about the story of our very first Christmas together?”

The children settled in, leaning against their parents as Benedict began his tale. He spoke of their courtship, the way he had fallen in love with Y/N’s laughter and kindness. He recounted the snowy evening he had proposed, the joy they had felt as they planned their future together. And finally, he told them about their first Christmas as husband and wife, a day filled with love and laughter, setting the foundation for all the joyous celebrations to come.

As Benedict spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a tear slip down her cheek. The story was a reminder of how far they had come, of the love that had only grown stronger with each passing year.

When the story ended, the children were filled with questions, eager to hear more about their parents’ adventures. But Y/N stood, a playful smile on her lips.

“I think it’s time for a new tradition,” she announced, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Benedict raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what might that be, my love?”

Y/N beckoned the children to follow her, leading them to the kitchen. There, on the counter, were bowls of cookie dough, sprinkles, and icing in every color imaginable.

“We’re going to make Christmas cookies,” she declared. “Each of you will make one for Santa, and one to hang on the tree.”

The children’s faces lit up with excitement, and they eagerly set to work, rolling out dough and cutting it into festive shapes. Benedict joined in, his artistic flair evident in the intricate designs he crafted. Laughter and chatter filled the kitchen as flour dusted the air and icing smudged fingers.

As the cookies baked, filling the house with their delicious aroma, Benedict pulled Y/N into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“This is perfect,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart full. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, watching their children create memories that would last a lifetime. And in that moment, surrounded by love and laughter, a new Bridgerton Christmas tradition was born one that would be cherished for generations to come.

As the evening wore on and the children’s excitement showed no signs of waning, they began clamoring to open their presents. Y/N, now noticeably tired, rubbed her swollen belly and sank into a nearby armchair. She was glowing with the anticipation of their newest family member, but the day’s festivities had taken their toll.

“Mama, can we open our presents now?” one of the children asked, eyes wide with eagerness.

Y/N smiled wearily. “I think it’s time, but I need to sit down for a moment.”

Benedict, noticing her fatigue, quickly stepped in. “All right, everyone. Let’s gather around the tree and open our presents together, but let’s make sure we’re gentle and don’t overwhelm Mama. She needs to rest.”

The children, sensing the importance of their father’s words, nodded solemnly and moved to sit in a semi-circle around the tree. Benedict helped Y/N to a more comfortable position, placing a pillow behind her back and kissing her forehead.

“Thank you, my love,” she whispered, her hand resting on her belly.

“Anything for you,” he replied softly.

The children began to unwrap their gifts, their eyes lighting up with each new discovery. Benedict and Y/N watched, their hearts full as they shared glances of mutual adoration and pride. Each child took turns showing off their new treasures, the room filled with exclamations of joy and wonder.

As the last present was opened and the children began to settle down, Y/N felt a wave of contentment wash over her. Benedict wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“This has been a perfect Christmas,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

Benedict smiled, his eyes twinkling. “And it’s only going to get better.”

In the glow of the firelight, with their children nestled around them and the promise of new life on the horizon, the Bridgertons embraced the magic of Christmas, cherishing each moment and the traditions they had begun together.

like and comment :)

#benedict bridgerton x wife reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton benedict #benidict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #be

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lupoteodoro · 2 months ago

Text

My Ron Livingston Watchlist Guide

Must-Watch

Office Space (1999)

Band of Brothers (2001)

Ron Livingston's Complete Bootcamp Video Diary (2001)

Keyboard Cat Redux (2009)

Highly Recommended

Swingers (1996) – Goofy.

A Rumor of Angels (2000) – Beautiful movie, and this role led him to get Nix.

Holly (2006)

Music Within (2007)

Defying Gravity (2009) – could have been an iconic space drama.

Parkland (2013) – I love his performance in this one.

Loudermilk (2017-2020)

Worth Watching

The Low Life (1995) – Story of a Yale grad.

Townies (1996) -- licked by a golden retriever puppy

Campfire Tales (1997) – full back nudity.

Body Shots (1999) -- yeah, that one

Beat (2000) – Super cute nerdy gay boy.

44 Minutes: The North Hollywood Shoot-Out (2003)

Sex and the City (1998-2004) – Enough is enough: Berger is my pretty baby boy.

House (2006) – He looks so good.

Relative Strangers (2006) – Fun to watch.

Standoff (2006-2007) – Obviously.

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: From the Stories of Stephen King (2006)

Leave (2011) – A BoB cast reunion.

Drinking Buddies (2013)

Boardwalk Empire (2013-2014)

Saints & Strangers (2015)

Shangri-La Suite (2016) – Fat Elvis.

Welcome to America (2016)

Daddy Vibes

The Conjuring (2013) – Haunted dad.

Fort Bliss (2014) – Military spouse dad.

The 5th Wave (2016) – Post-apocalyptic gorgeous dad.

Lucky (2017) – Because his look here is what I imagine for Stanhope.

Tully (2018) – Gentle omega dad.

The Long Dumb Road (2018) – Violent Alpha Dad.

The Romanoffs (2018) – Reasonable dad.

A Million Little Things (2018-2023) – Why does he die right away and leave a mess behind? This show annoys me. But he's so good in it.

The Flash (2023) – The Flash’s dad.

Sitting in Bars with Cake (2023) – Adorable sad dad.

His Pretty Face >> plot

JAG (1997) – POW baby.

Timecop (1997) – A 1920s New York cop.

Two Ninas (1999)

The Practice (1999) – I think his character was bullied, but he still looked very great.

Buying the Cow (2002)

The Cooler (2003)

Little Black Book (2004)

10 Years (2011)

Love Him Even as a Villain/Tragic

Adaptation (2002)

King of the Ants (2003)

American Crude (2008)

Dinner for Schmucks (2010)

The Odd Life of Timothy Green (2012)

The Professor (2018)

Search Party (2016-2022)

Doesn’t Fit Anywhere but You Could Watch

The Time Traveler's Wife (2009)

Game Change (2012)

#ron livingston #bob cast #office space #band of brothers #loudermilk #keyboard cat

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builtbybrokenbells · 4 months ago

Text

Melodic Memories | Track 4: The Air That I Breathe - The Hollies

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, (sweet and lazy) morning sex, praise, biting, simultaneous orgasm, cockwarming if you squint, sadness, heartbreak, breakups, fighting, arguing, crying, frustration/anger, miscommunication, high school breakups, unrequited love, estranged parent/strained parental relationships, angst, depression, anxiety, self doubt/self consciousness, swearing, flirting, fluff, angst, mentions of hookups/casual sex, sorry if I miss any!

hi everyone. remember i love you!!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍😌

Also a special shout-out to @gretavangroupie and @gretavanmoon for always keeping me on track, putting up with my craziness, and for the unwavering support and encouragement 🤍 melodic memories wouldn’t be what it is without you 😌

Jake’s POV

“If I could make a wish

I think I’d pass

Can’t think of anything I need

No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound

Nothing to eat, no books to read.”

Rays of sunlight scattered across the room, the flowing curtains sheer and allowing the golden hue to fill the space around you. You were half covered with the sheet, the cool air in the room unable to bother you as you turned on your side. You knew exactly where the comforter had disappeared to, and despite the nagging chill, you felt warmer than ever before. The sweet smell of a million memories danced around your head, laced with orange blossoms and vanilla. As you leaned in closer, jasmine and pear joined the crowd. It was a perfect match, things you’d come in contact with plenty of times in her absence, but not even true plush petals of blossoms on trees nor vanilla beans wore it as well as she did.

Your eyes landed on her, cocooned in the expensive duvet as she slept away the early morning. Her hair was a mess, covering the white cotton pillowcase below her. Her eyes were closed, peacefulness encasing her features as deep breaths moved her shoulders. Her dark eyelashes dusted over the barely-there freckles on her cheeks, casting a small shadow over the bridge of her nose. Her lips, pink and parted ever so slightly, allowing for soft snores to escape made it difficult to sit by and watch the scene, rather than lean forward and kiss her, but you abided by the rules, deciding it was best to admire her than wake her and let the moment pass.

Goosebumps raised on your skin, not because of the coolness of the air conditioning seeping through the woven threads of the sheet, but because waking next to her was an otherworldly experience that you were lucky enough to be a part of yet again. Your mouth was dry, your lungs devoid of air, your veins depleted of the blood that once ran through them, and your heart barely beating in a fruitless endeavor. In the moment, you did not survive off the flesh and bone that carried you to twenty-five, but off of the woman beside you, granting you every desire and wish you’d ever dreamed of.

Waking next to her had been something you longed for since the last morning shared with her, vaguely remembering her sweetness as sleep begged to draw her back in and the tired smile that fought its way onto her perfectly crafted features. She slept so soundly, like trouble had never touched her and pain feared to disturb her. She embodied every single trait of the sun shining in the sky, the light emitting from her even when she was not awake to encourage it.

She was the most precious thing the world had ever created, and she was here with you, trusting you enough to let her guard down and show herself to you in the most vulnerable of ways. Sex was good—great, even. It was intimate, invigorating and fulfilling, and you had dreamed of it a million times, but this was something entirely different. This was the best moment of your day, the highlight of your life as you took the opportunity to admire her when innocence and effortless beauty radiated from her. Sex was great, but waking up to the sight of her beside you was something even greater than that, something you had dreamed of a million and one times in the six years you spent apart.

No matter how much you enjoyed the activities of the night prior, loving her so wholeheartedly for no other reason aside from love itself was always better.

You placed your elbow on the pillow, propping your chin in your hand as you studied her, the constellations of dots decorating her smooth skin, the youthfulness of the girl you loved when you were eighteen and the elegance of the woman you were lucky enough to love now combined all in one. It was a picture you never wanted to lose, one you would spend a lifetime dedicated to remembering in pristine detail, and one that you could survive off alone. You would stave off hunger until it was nonexistent, ignore the thirst until you forgot what it was like to drink water, wither away to nothingness so long as she was there for you to admire. You didn’t need any other entertainment, never wanting to sleep again, never needing to play a guitar or hear the sweet melody of a song again, because she filled you with so much love there was no room left for anything else.

Even if there was, it would pale in comparison to her.

The air flowing in the room, perfectly controlled as it tousled the strands of hair falling over her forehead, could not even disturb her from the slumber she found herself in. It made you wonder if she slept as good as you did, if going to bed while the two of you were apart was as torturous to her as it was for you. Six years of nearly sleepless nights had taken its toll, leaving you exhausted and dreading to fall into bed when the day passed by. Last night, you finally found relief that no aid could match. You tried whiskey, above recommended doses of cold medicine and melatonin, company from another, lesser woman than her, and even Josh’s ridiculous guided meditations, but nothing could cure the nightmare plagued sleep or the relentless tossing and turning.

Nothing until she laid her head on the pillow next to you, her fingers twisting locks of your hair around her finger as her warm breath tickled her neck.

Nothing until you closed your eyes, surrounded by orange blossoms, pears, jasmine, and the faint whisper of vanilla.

Nothing until the warmth of sunshine itself wrapped around you, glowing bright despite the looming moonlight and twinkling stars.

This morning, you awoke with a new lease on life, well rested and with a full heart. The heaviness that constantly weighed down on your shoulders disappeared without a trace, and the storm clouds that forever followed you cleared, allowing for a long awaited taste of blue skies.

You were home again, and Michigan had little to do with the warmth you were experiencing. The woman beside you was many things, but more than anything else, she was the biggest comfort you had ever encountered. She made the world turn with ease, the flowers blossomed as she walked by, and the birds sang a song curated just for her ears. She made all the previous pain worth it, and any bad thing to come obsolete, because when she was loving you, nothing could hurt.

Your breath caught in your throat as her eyes fluttered, her eyelashes tickling her skin as she broke from the blanket tightly wrapped around her. Slowly, her arms stretched above her head, a long breath of air filling her lungs as she prepared to face the world for another day. You wondered how she made it look so easy, how perfection was second nature even when she couldn’t notice it herself. You wondered how everything she did, no matter if it was mundane or grandois, stole the air straight from your lungs and left your head spinning.

Her eyes fully opened, slowly blinking as she tried to pull herself out of her sleepy state. Once she registered where she was, her gaze slowly turned to you, watching silently with a smile on your face. It didn’t take long for her lips to turn upwards, too.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You whispered, giving her ample time to come back to earth before you spoke.

“Good morning, bug.” She said, pushing the blankets away from her face as she turned her head towards you. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Only for a little while.” You confessed, slightly sheepish about it. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has.” She agreed, reaching forward and letting her fingers graze over your blushing cheeks. “I would have done the same thing. Kinda sad I can’t, honestly.”

“I can pretend to be asleep, if you want?” You grinned. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at your ridiculous need to please her all of the time.

“Think it’s okay, honey. Would take the charm out of it.” She giggled, her eyes turning down to the flimsy sheet covering your legs and stopping just below your navel. “Sorry I stole the blankets.”

“Are you kidding? Been waiting six years for you to steal the blankets from me again.” You stressed your point, ensuring she understood that this was all you ever thought about.

“You’re cold.” She stated, her fingers trailing down your frigid arm. “Come here.” She said, lifting the blanket for you to join her. You slid over, noticing her turn on her side away from you once the comforter was covering you. You slipped an arm around her waist, turning on your side just the same as her while you pulled her into you.

In an instant, you were surrounded in the familiar perfume still clinging to her skin, the soft strands of her hair tickling your face as you buried your head in her neck. Your hand talked upwards, a natural reaction to holding her in such a way. Your palm landed on her still bare breast, cupping it as her arm settled on top of yours. She pushed herself backwards a little further, her back completely pressed against you and the curve of her ass fitting perfectly against your hips. You placed a kiss to her shoulder blade, your stomach twisted with nerves and your entire body tingling with pleasure just from the simple position.

Holding her was your favorite thing to do, even if you knew it had to end eventually. Although the loss of her was debilitating, the few moments you had her all to yourself made up for the pain it caused when she pulled away. If it were up to you, you would hold her just like this for the rest of your life. If she allowed it, you would never let her go.

“You sleep okay?” You asked, your words muffled from your mouth lingering against her skin.

“Better than ever.” She whispered, without a doubt in her mind about it. “You?”

“Me too.” You hummed, letting your eyes flutter closed as you breathed her in. There was nowhere in the world you’d rather be, the surplus of emotion coursing through you so unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

You fell back into silence, neither of you needing to explain any further because you understood exactly how you both felt. The cloud of sleepiness was still hovering around the two of you, begging to pull you back in. It was tempting, but you fought it with everything in you, knowing you didn’t want to miss a single second of loving her.

Absentmindedly, you let your thumb drift over her nipple, hardened from the cold hair combined with your touch. She shuddered at the feeling, her hips pushing backwards into you as a natural response. The movement sent a flood of adrenaline through you and a sudden rush of blood straight to your dick.

“Careful, sweetheart.” You warned, letting her know the consequences of her actions were imminent. She could feel you resting against her ass, catching on to your intent immediately. Instead of heeding your advice, she arched her back slightly, pressing herself against your length even further. Your fingers tightened on her and your hips moved forward to meet hers, in search of relief already even though she barely did anything at all. “You want more already?” You smiled, relieved to know you weren’t the only one tormented by need.

“Been so long, baby.” She confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Been so long since someone could do it right.” She corrected herself, just as eager to make up for all the lost time. You let your fingers trail over her bare stomach, the touch light and tickling her as you advanced toward her hip. You could only imagine she was sore, bruised and still tired from the night prior, so you promised to be gentle with her from your touch alone.

“You know I’ll always give you what you want, angel.” You assured her, knowing that your statement did not even scratch the surface. You would do anything for her, even if it was a hindrance to yourself. You would move heaven and earth to see her smile, you would spend every dollar and every minute of every day in an effort to make her happy. You would do anything, be anything, and give anything for her. You hoped that she knew, that she understood just how important she was and how much you cared about her. You hoped that in a single day, you were able to show her the love you’d sworn to give her when you were fifteen asking her to be your girlfriend in the park, all over again at twenty five.

Slowly, your hand drifted down to her thigh, snaking around to the front of her. Before you could go any further, she reached down and stopped you, turning her head back over her shoulder as she shook her head ‘no’. You raised an eyebrow, wondering what caused her sudden change of heart all whilst you admired the softness and beauty in her still tired eyes.

“I don’t want that. I want you.” She whispered, hoping you understood her meaning. At that, you swallowed hard, feeling your dick throb at the intent of her actions. She was not in search of pleasure from an orgasm, but rather the pleasure of being close to you. She missed it, just as intensely and deeply as you did, the feeling of belonging to each other.

“You have me, sweetness.” You promised her, but abided by her wishes and instead used your hand on her leg to prop it up. You slid down on the mattress a little further, holding her thigh as she steadied it in the new position. “Used to dream of waking up like this every night.” You couldn’t help but feel a smile pull at your lips, almost unable to believe that she was there, beside you and wanting everything you hated yourself for needing all of the time.

“Don’t have to dream anymore, bug.” She breathed, arching her back a little further as you reached between your bodies and lined yourself up with her. You wondered if she thought about it as much as you did, if she craved the feeling of your hands on her skin with such a ferocity that it nearly brought her to her knees. You wanted to ask, to know if she daydreamed about tangled limbs and lazy Sundays in bed together, but a small part of you knew she did, or she wouldn’t have come back.

Your tip was settled over her entrance, already slick with arousal just from the thought of fucking you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your head falling forward as your forehead rested against her shoulder blade. You pulled her down just a little further, letting your hand hold the underside of her thigh so she did not have to exert her energy keeping the limb locked in place. As she moved down, you pushed your hips forward, letting out a hiss of pleasure through your clenched teeth. You pushed forward the rest of the way, hearing her let out a sigh of relief at the feeling as you brushed against the sensitive spot you knew so well.

“You always feel so fucking good, sunshine.” You muttered, taking a moment to rest inside of her. Your heart drummed against your chest, pressed against her back so she could feel the rhythmic beat that depended on her love alone. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.” You followed up your statement, still in disbelief that you had the opportunity to hold her so close again. Still, as you said it, you felt an unfamiliar tug of uncertainty twist your stomach.

Was she yours?

You hadn’t discussed that—in fact, you hadn’t discussed anything. You woke up, still stuck in a cloud of euphoria from life’s turn of events, still living in the fairytale world you had worked together to create. She wasn’t yours in any truthful manner, but rather just the fallacy you had created in your head. The plague of heartbreak continued consuming you, eating away at any bit of sanity that still remained, begging you to air out the unspoken fears that you still had. You couldn’t move forward without addressing what had already happened, which led you to a lazy morning hookup after a successful second first date. You hadn’t addressed the reason for the second first date at all, and if you continued to neglect the fact, it would leave you both at the very beginning again.

Not yet. Not now.

You shoved the feelings down, swallowing them as they got stuck in your throat. They were desperate to be spoken, but you couldn’t allow them to be. You had no idea where they would lead you, and you weren’t risking the end already, not when you just got her back, and not when you were sharing the intimacy with her you’d been craving so badly.

Soon, but certainly not now.

“Fuck, Jake.” She whispered, moving her hips further down in search of what you were holding back. Your name falling from her lips was like summer rain, washing over you with warmth as it relieved you from the irritating burn of the blazing sun. You wanted to hear it again, for her to say it over and over again until she could speak no more and your ears were ringing in the static silence. You never wanted her to stop saying it, never again giving her the chance to speak the name of another.

“This is what you wanted, sweetheart?” You asked, beginning a slow pace with your hips. Your fingers tightened against the flesh of her thigh, a whole new spot to leave a mark on her, ensuring she would remember the moment as the days passed her by.

“Yes, baby.” She breathed, leaning backwards so she was flush against your chest.

Your head fell to the crook of her neck, the sweet scent of her perfume invading your senses as your lips attached to the delicate skin. She was already littered with love bites, her skin sensitive as your tongue traced over her. You didn’t care, and she didn’t either; the state you had left each other in was childish, similar to the way you used to act when you were younger. Even if you would face ridicule at the hands of your careless actions, you were just happy to feel like you were hers again, for others to believe she was yours again.

To feel and to believe, but never in certainty. Even if it was true, you wondered for how long this time.

Although you would promise forever, and you longed to hear it from her too, you did not know. You weren’t even sure if she wanted forever, or if this was a passing moment that would leave you both alone again, with even less closure than before. The idea hurt, and it hurt achingly bad, taking over your entire body with such a devastating effect that it even seemed to overshadow the pleasure that came from being inside of her.

Why did it hurt so bad when everything seemed so good? When perfection was all around you? When the world seemed right for the first time in six years? Why now?

Perhaps it never stopped. The hurt did not go away when she broke the silence, not even when you showed up at her door. It subsided, covered up by the excitement and joy from the reunion, but it was never resolved. You never expected it to come back so soon, when she was still with you, but maybe that was the problem itself.

Being with you and being yours were two entirely different things, and although having her by your side was what you craved, it was not what you wanted. The uncertainty made it hurt worse, just like it did when she was packing up her childhood bedroom with tear stained cheeks and promises of everlasting love. The uncertainty made it worse when you spent those first few days texting, hoping she would change her mind or you would find the courage to speak your truth. Uncertainty was your entire life, never changing her contact name and always hoping that every notification was a ‘hello’ or an ‘I miss you’.

Uncertainty was right now, wrapped up in her and closer than you’d been in a long time, but not knowing what it meant.

But the sounds falling from her lips, strikingly beautiful and oddly haunting made it easy to forget about it, to draw you out of the cloud of doubt and back into the moment with her.

“God, you feel so good, baby.” She said, her head turned back to catch a glimpse of your face. Her eyes were heavy, tiredness still lingering on her features, but it made her all the more beautiful. The intimacy of having her in the state, no guard up and all of the walls broken down, was almost too much for you to bear. Words were failing you, the only thoughts in your head revolving around the same, undying love for her that forever existed in your heart.

You wanted it to last forever, to hold her in your arms until you turned to dust and the wind swept you away. Even then, you would find her again, whether it be in real life or something greater. Every part of you would be tied to her forever, no matter if death tried to get in the way.

“Show me how fucking good it feels.” You growled, your voice low as you held her gaze. Neither of you dared to look away, your arm still holding her quivering leg as you felt her walls flutter around you. She craned her head backwards a little further, just enough to connect her lips with your own.

You met her action, your eyes closing as you focused on all of the sensations at once. The slow, steady pace was almost too much for you. Feeling her all at once, enjoying and appreciating every second of it, all while holding her so close to you was overwhelming in the best possible way. She felt so good, so intoxicating, just like she always had. It was a relief to know that the distance nor the time had any effect on the chemistry existing between you, even if you had both changed so much.

The kiss was sloppy, messy and needy as you tried to hold onto it. The moment was pure bliss, more euphoric than anything else you’d ever experienced. The taste of her on your tongue and the feeling of her wrapped around you was sending you spiraling, still riding the high from the previous night all while getting to experience it all over again. She was more addicting than the sting of a cigarette at the back of your throat, burning stronger in your chest than a shot of whiskey as you swallowed her down, and more thrilling than playing on a stage before thousands.

Perhaps you were so caught up on the unknown because you knew living without her had never been worth it.

She let out a moan into your mouth, letting you drink down the sound as if you were dependent upon it for survival. You slammed your hips forward, a little sharper than before, causing her to repeat the action. You were dependent upon her, not the noises or the pleasure she could grant you. You needed every little bit she could give, and you feared that not even that would suffice. She was everything you’d ever wanted, more than you ever needed, and you were desperate to hear her say that she was yours, not because of a momentary high or a surplus of emotion.

The early morning hours left your willpower greatly depleted, the sleep still weighing heavy on your shoulders and the euphoria you had endured the night before still lingering under your skin. The feeling of her, so close and so intimate, was enough to push you over the edge the minute you felt it. The taste of her on your tongue, the desperation in her movements as she strained to ensure you would not break from the kiss. The scent of her fucking perfume, suffocating you and leaving you happy to die at her hands.

It was all too much. She was too much, and you didn’t deserve a single thing she was offering.

The pleasure was coursing through your veins, depleting your previous life source and creating a new one. Your heart ached from the strength with which it was beating against your chest, your stomach twisted with desire as you held yourself back. She was quickly becoming the only thing you could think about, the only face you could see and the only voice you could hear. As much as you wanted to believe it was a good thing, you felt that same nagging, grating self-doubt as you feared the fallout.

Could you survive her walking away a second time?

The fear was pushed from your mind once again, a rush of pleasure flowing through you more intense than the last. You broke from the kiss, letting out a shaky sigh as you did your best to pull her closer to you.

“Wish I could fuck you like this all day.” You muttered, your fingers digging into the skin on her thigh even further. “Keep you like this for the rest of my life, if I could.” You watched as her hand snaked between her legs, the blankets strewn across the bed and barely covering the two of you now. Her middle finger settled over her clit, tracing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves as she held your gaze.

“Nothing stopping us, baby.” She replied, her eyes speaking louder than her words ever could. She wanted it, and she was asking you if that’s what you truly wanted, too.

You don’t know why, but your eyes fluttered away from hers, unable to withstand the emotion existing between you.

Of course you wanted it, but it was never that easy. She might want it too, but it didn’t make up for the million things that had been left unsaid. It didn’t make up for the sleepless nights and the tears shed, not the pain you endured or the sadness that still plagued you, even with her beside you.

She was asking if you wanted to love her just like that forever, but you were too much of a coward to say yes. You couldn’t handle the thought of agreeing, to telling her the truth only to have it ripped from your grasp again.

“I love you, sunshine.” You whispered, your lips finding her neck again as you held back everything you wanted to say instead. Your statement was true, you loved her deeply and more dearly than you loved anything else in your entire life, and you always would, but you couldn’t promise her forever if you did not know the tellings of her heart, too.

Enjoy the moment, worry later.

“I love you, Jake.” She whined, desperate for you to kiss her again. In an instant, at the sound of the sweet words, the turmoil disappeared, replaced with a growing sense of pride in your chest to be loved by someone so fantastic.

That was the danger of letting her in; she took the pain away with little effort, and caused a million times more when she inevitably turned and walked away.

“Cum for me, sunshine.” You pleaded, your voice hushed and your words muffled from your lips still pressed against her skin. You were eager for her to reach her climax, and worried that if she did not do so soon, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back.

You could feel how close she was, the flutter of her walls around you, pulling you in further. You could hear the desperation in her tone, her moans shaky and breathy, always a clear sign that she was close to the edge. She wanted to, she just needed a little extra encouragement.

“Come on, sweetheart. Being so good for me.” You whispered, your tongue tracing the love bites still littering her skin. She tasted sweet, lingering on your tongue like poison as you succumbed to the sickness of loving her. She continued tracing circles into her clit, pushing herself closer to the edge as she leaned her head back against you for support. You loosened your grip on her thigh, hooking your arm underneath her leg and pulling her back on you as you slammed forward into her.

The laziness in both of your actions was apparent, but it made the moment all the more addicting as you relied on each other to keep up the pace. You let your lips trail down to her shoulder, your teeth gently sinking into the flesh as you applied slight pressure, just enough for her to notice. The sensation sent her spiraling, your name falling from her lips like a hymn, praising you when she was the one who deserved the commendation.

“Fuck, baby.” She whimpered, her body trembling as the pleasure became too much to withstand. With a long slur of curses, you felt her descend into the cloud of euphoria, continuing to sing your name and only ever causing you to fall further for her.

Before the night prior, you did not think it was possible to love her any more than you already did, but she seemed determined to prove you wrong with every passing chance.

“That’s my girl.” You groaned, a pathetic little cry falling from your lips as you felt the same feeling wash over you.

You did not care if the title was fleeting, because there in that moment, she was yours, and you had to appreciate what you had rather than mourn a potential loss in the future.

You pulled her down on you, letting her completely surround you as you spilled your release into her. Her perfume hung like a haze around your head, the ends of her still curled hair tickling your skin and the warmth of her body giving you more comfort than ever before. Together, the two of you rode out the high breathless and happy just to coexist together again.

You wondered, even if this moment must come to pass, why could life not be so beautiful all of the time?

As you relaxed into the mattress, you noticed she did too, searching for the comfort she could only find in your arms. You eased your hold on her leg entirely, gently letting it fall without withdrawing from her. You snaked your arm around her torso, pulling her closer to you as you soaked up the last few minutes of intimacy the scene would allow.

“That’s a great way to start the morning, I think.” She hummed, her eyes closed as she rested her head on the pillow. She wasn’t protesting your prolonged stay in the position, because she was enjoying it just as much as you were.

“The best, actually.” You corrected, dusting a few kisses over her warm skin. It was torture loving her so completely, because no matter if she was yours forever, life would not allow you to hold her like this every minute of every day.

‘Making love with you

Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired

What more could I ask

There’s nothing left to be desired

Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak

So sleep, silent angel

Go to sleep.’

“This feels the same as it did before.” She whispered, her tone low and slow like she was fighting a slumber with all of her energy. She didn’t want to succumb to sleep, terrified of missing out on a single second of your company. “I thought… I thought it would be different, I guess. That because we’re different, it wouldn’t be the same anymore. I was worried that we would wake up and realize it wasn’t real, that we only felt this way because we never had enough closure to move on.” She was strung out from the pleasure, still riding an emotional high as she confessed to her own fears.

“It’s always been real, sunshine.” You assured her, tracing shapes into her skin as you held her. “Always wanted to be with you.” You muttered, slightly ashamed of the undying love you always carried for her. You were tired too, your eyes heavy as the world continued to wake. Sleeping away the day with her by your side was tempting, and you would have fallen victim to the peacefulness of her presence if you were less stubborn.

“I guess there’s just so much… shit we never talked about.” She trailed off, losing her confidence the longer she thought about it. “From back then and now.” She wanted to talk too, wallowing in confusion and self doubt just as heavily as you were and nearly drowning in the sorrow that still surrounded her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, hoping that she did so you could air out your own relentless thoughts.

“Yeah, I do.” Her tone was near solemn, the sound making your stomach sink and regret begin to form. If she didn’t want the same thing, would you spend the rest of your life regretting asking the damned question?

“Okay.” Your voice was soft as you bargained with the anxiety beginning to take over. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad—maybe she was afraid of all the same things and desperate to hear you assure her otherwise.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up, okay?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. The breath was knocked from your lungs at the sight of her sleepy eyes and blushed cheeks, making you wonder if you would see it again in the morning, or waste your day trying to forget about it.

“Okay.” You repeated your earlier words, finding that the easiest thing to say when dread was crushing you. Then, she leaned back a little further, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. Your fingers tightened on her, the action alone prompting a sudden wave of relief that seemed to cure all of your earlier ailments. When she pulled away, the smile turning the corners of your lips helped you to relax, forcing you to believe that the conversation wouldn’t be nearly as bad as you thought it would be.

Carefully, she climbed from the bed and quickly disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as your heart continued to speed against your chest. The ghost of her kiss still lingered on your lips, the feeling electrifying as you desperately tried to find some common sense and calm yourself. You reached for your phone on the nightstand beside the bed, tapping the screen to catch a glimpse of the time. It was nearing the afternoon, the entire morning spent in a bubble of love and joy that nothing could penetrate. You didn’t care about the time wasted laying in bed, because when you were beside her, no time felt wasted.

You ignored the plethora of notifications sitting below the time, tossing it back down on the mattress just as the bathroom door creaked open. You shot a smile in her direction as she approached the bed, taking an extra second to admire the entire picture before you. Her cheeks darkened as she realized what you were doing, and instead of taunting her for her embarrassment, you climbed out of bed and landed a gentle smack on her ass as you passed her by. Light, playful, confident. The more normal you made this seem, the more likely she would be to go into the conversation with a clear head and an open mind.

“My turn. Be right back.” You looked back over your shoulder, watching her pull your shirt over her arms from the night prior, buttoning a few buttons to keep it closed.

That was a good sign, right? Wearing your clothes, climbing back into your hotel bed, a smile on her face and joy still shining in her eyes. She wanted to make it work, just like you did. She loved you, still after all this time. It had to be a good sign.

Right?

Her POV

You watched as he walked around the corner, holding your breath as the bathroom door fell shut behind him. You felt like your head was going to explode, your entire body vibrating with nerves as you climbed under the still warm blankets. You had no idea what you were doing, no idea where the conversation would lead you, but for the first time in six years, you felt happy. Pure, uninhibited joy that could not even be overshadowed by your own dramatics. You wanted him—you never stopped wanting him, and you were going to tell him. You were going to tell him how sorry you were, how terrible it was to be without him, and hope so desperately and deeply that he would be willing to give you a second chance.

He wanted it too, right?

Right?

He was so loving, so attentive and kind as he planned such a thoughtful date, down to every last detail. He had to want it too, and for once you didn’t think you made it up in your own head, that the hope was correct rather than misplaced this time. He had to want it too, because you couldn’t bear the thought of him rejecting your apologies and sending you away.

He was withdrawn during sex, and it didn’t take long to notice. You knew him better than you knew yourself, even if you’d spent so much time apart. What was he thinking about? Was he not enjoying himself? Was he regretting it?

You were working yourself up, your heart aching and your stomach sick as you thought of all the possibilities of what could happen next. You were trembling, vibrating with anxieties. The feeling was grating, irritating as it—no, it wasn’t you.

It was his damned phone beside you in the bed, vibrating nonstop with incoming messages, so constant and steady that you had convinced yourself it was something else.

What the fuck—who the fuck was blowing up his phone?

It wasn’t your business. You knew that, and you tried to distract yourself so you could ignore the temptation. If he had something to hide, he never would have shared his screen on the FaceTime calls, nor would he have left his phone sitting so openly and invitingly on the bed for you to see.

But who the hell was messaging him? Who needed to get through to him so imminently on his days off?

Just a peek, you bargained. Just to assure yourself it was Josh being his normally overbearing and invasive self.

Just a peek.

What could it hurt, right?

Right?

You reached over, slowly grabbing his phone and bringing it closer to your face. You tapped the screen, immediately noticing the surplus of notifications. It wasn’t just from one person, but rather a flood of emails and texts combined. A momentary sense of relief washed over you, but you couldn’t pry yourself away even with the reassurance it wasn’t a secret girlfriend. Instead, your eyes scanned the words that you could read, seeing a lot of rescheduled meetings and chains from what looked to be labels and managers.

Wait, rescheduled?

You looked a little further, your stomach dropping when you gathered the main idea from the surplus of messages.

He had moved his entire life around, canceling meetings and rescheduling interviews that were supposed to be done today, yesterday, and the day before that.

He put his entire life on pause for you.

What should have been a sweet realization was instead evil, ugly, and cruel.

Six years later, you were doing the exact thing you were trying to avoid when you left in the first place. You were standing in the way of his career, and he was doing what he always had; putting you before everything else, no matter the consequences. Putting you before himself, before his dreams.

You left to ensure he wouldn’t do that, but you couldn’t stay away and ended up forcing his hand anyway. It was only a few meetings, an interview, but you knew him well and you knew it wouldn’t stop there. With you permanently in Michigan and him halfway across the world, he would only try harder to see you, and it would only get worse from here.

You couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t be the very thing that stood in the way of him and his entire life. You wished you found texts from another girl, from a girlfriend or a wife so you could be angry and upset with him for doing such a thing, but that wasn’t who he was, and it never would be. Jake would never let you down, and would do anything he could to make you happy. In doing so, he would sacrifice his own wants and needs, and you couldn’t be responsible for him disregarding everything he’d worked for his entire life.

God, he made it so unbelievably hard to stay out of love with him, even if you knew it was for the best.

Just as you were about to put the phone down, to bargain with your foggy mind and hurting heart, another chain of texts pulled your attention back in.

Amelie - 11:48am

Here’s that sneak peek you asked for. Saving the best for when you get back, so don’t even bother. 😉

*Attachment: 4 images*

“God, what the fuck does that mean?” You whispered to yourself, tossing the phone back on the mattress without even looking at the preview of the pictures as you tried to swallow back the panic you were feeling. It seemed like the world was mocking you for believing the two of you could be together, mocking you for believing that you could have someone as perfect as him.

Who was she, and what did she mean she was saving the best for when he got back? Why had he never mentioned her? Was she a girl he was trying to keep secret? She was close enough to him to have his phone number, comfortable enough to text him on his days off, and cheeky enough to send a winking emoji of follow. You didn’t know what it was, but you knew you didn’t like it.

Your mind was a mess, your chest aching and your head spinning. The message in itself wasn’t exactly incriminating, but you were so caught up in your own emotions from earlier that you wanted to believe it was, so your justification for running wasn’t because he loved you too much. You were jumping to conclusions, desperately grasping at strings to pull together an excuse to leave, but it had nothing to do with him rescheduling his meetings and the oddly worded message from the mysterious ‘Amelie’ (who sounded like a woman you could not even begin to compete with). It had everything to do with your own fear and your inability to see the brighter side of things.

You were doing everything you could to avoid getting hurt, and right now, you were already hurting. Instead of owning up to it and getting to the bottom of it with him by your side, you began to shut out the possibility of loving him in hopes of stopping the hurt before it grew any larger.

Caught up in a whirlwind of grief and a surplus of love, you did not even have time to straighten our separate the two before Jake stepped out of the bathroom, naked and beautiful as ever as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase. He slipped them on, his eyes trailing to you, expecting to see the smile he’d left on your lips when he walked away. Instead, he was met with an expression that told him nothing good, his palms breaking into a sweat and his stomach tied in knots as he tried to decipher the look in your eyes.

He had seen the look once before, and he spent the equivalent to a hundred lifetimes trying to rid the memory from his brain. He was praying it was different this time, that he had it completely misunderstood.

“Sunshine,” he warned, cautiously approaching the bed as he tried to defuse the bomb he knew was waiting to explode.

Afraid.

That was the only thing you were, feeling it so violently and aggressively as you shied away from his outstretched arms, silently pleading with you to reconsider. You were afraid of being hurt, afraid of hurting him, afraid of holding him back and standing in his way. You were terrified of everything, and most of all, unable to comprehend how dearly you loved him. You longed to be a teacher, spent years with your nose buried in a book and working so hard to get a degree so you could help someone else understand better. Not knowing was hard, and not understanding something was your biggest downfall, because you had made a life out of facts and working constantly to make sense of challenging things.

This didn’t make sense, and you couldn’t make it appear clearer. The longer you thought about it, the more confused you became, and it was killing you.

You pulled your legs to your chest, feeling tears shine in your eyes as you looked over his face. He was so beautiful, so perfect and so kind, which is why you had to walk away. He was too good, and you weren’t ever going to be enough. Back then, when you went your separate ways the first time, he took the sacrifice of losing you so you could follow your dreams. You were moving too fast, chasing after a life you couldn’t find in Michigan, and he stepped away to allow you to take the leap without worrying about him.

His actions were valiant, completely selfless and done in an attempt to ensure your happiness, and done without a single care about himself or his own breaking heart.

You had to do the same for him. You couldn’t hold him back or drag him down—he deserved someone in control of their life, certain and calculated with every move they made, stable and fun loving with a carefree spirit, and that would never be you.

Maybe someday, but certainly not now.

“Don’t do this. Not yet.” He sat on the edge of the bed, knowing what you were thinking before you said a word. “Let’s talk about it, please. We have to talk about it.” He was right, but you didn’t want to. The longer you talked about it, the worse it felt. You didn’t talk to him last time because it hurt too bad, and right now as you stared at him, facing the same situation as you did when you were eighteen, you understood that leaving Jake would always be the hardest thing you could ever do.

“This was a mistake, Jake.” You blurted out, immediately realizing the extent of your words when a pained expression crossed his beautiful face. You never wanted to be the reason behind his pain, and in that moment, you knew you were causing all of it.

“A mistake, huh?” He raised his hand to his face, his thumb and forefinger closing around his cheeks as his palm pressed against his chin. Deep in thought and clearly bothered by your choice of words, he could no longer look you in the eyes. “You said you loved me.” There was a slight snide drawl in his words, like he was fighting every part of himself so he would not respond with the hurt he was feeling.

“No, Jake, that’s not—“ you cut yourself off, feeling your chest tighten with panic as you raised your hand to his arm. The gentle touch pulled him out of his internal brooding for long enough to look back in your direction, to see how much hurt you were suffering from too. “You are not a mistake. Loving you is not a mistake, and I do. I love you so much that it hurts, and I could never feel this way about anyone else. I don’t want to love anyone else, Jake.”

“Then what is it?” He asked, reaching out and cupping your cheek in his palm. His stare was overwhelming, so much emotion in his gaze that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “If you love me, and you don’t want to love anyone else, why are you trying to leave?”

“I just…” you started, losing your composure as the million reasons flooded your mind. Your voice cracked, your eyes falling to the pristine threads on the comforter as they welled with tears. “Six years, and nothing changed. We’re still in the same situation, trying to love each other and knowing it won’t work.”

“Who’s saying it won’t work, sunshine? I would do anything to make it work—“

“That’s the problem, Jake!” You cut him off, closing your eyes tightly to stop the tears from falling. “Anything. You would do anything, even if it meant throwing the rest of your life away!”

“What? What does that even mean?” He argued, his temper growing as you continued to raise your voice at him.

“Did you really have all this time off, with nothing to do? No meetings, no interviews, nothing to attend to?” You asked, watching his face as his expression faltered ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, but it answered your question without him having to say a word. “You moved your entire life around just to come and take me to dinner, Jake. Without a promise of anything, without even knowing if I would say yes. If we keep this up, I can’t help but feel like I’m going to get in the way of everything you worked so hard for.”

“You’re not getting in the way of anything, sunshine. I chose to do that. I wanted to do it.” He tried to get you to see his point, to get you to understand that it wasn’t you forcing his hand on the matter.

“That’s the problem, bug.” Your cheeks were damp as you drowned in your own sorrow. “You would give up everything, just like you would have back then. That’s why I had to go. I had to leave so you wouldn’t waste your life chasing after me. Look at what you’ve accomplished since I left. Look at the life you built, all on your own.” You pleaded with him, begging him to see reason. “I’m going to take away from that, distract you from the only thing you’ve ever wanted. I can’t be responsible for that.”

“It’s not the only thing I’ve ever wanted!” He snapped, stronger than he intended to. Still, he continued on, desperate to be heard after six years of silence. “You are the only thing I’ve ever wanted. You are the only thing that’s ever mattered. You sat and listened to me talk about this life, encouraging me to chase after it, made me believe I could do it. It means fuckin’ nothing without you there beside me.”

“Jake, listen to yourself.” You cried, your head pounding and your chest tight as you tried to draw in a shaky breath. “You stepped back, you took that burden when I left and tried to make a name for myself. You didn’t want to stand in my way, and now you have to let me do it for you. I’m the one stuck in Michigan, not knowing what I’m doing or where I’m going. It won’t work, and you know it.”

“Don’t use that against me, Y/N.” The lack of a nickname was like a stab straight to the stomach, making you understand that this was more serious than it was when you were kids, because you were still hurting from it. It was all coming out at once, the fear and the anger and the regret. It was mixing together with your current situation, making for a deadly conversation that the two of you would carry with you for the rest of your lives. “Don’t use that as an excuse to leave now, because it’s the stupidest thing I have ever done. I’ve spent six years regretting it, Y/N. Do not make it seem like it was some courageous sacrifice—it was stupid and wrong, because I was afraid and I was hurt.”

“Jake—“

“No.” He cut you off, calm and collected with a grievous look in his eye. “I let you leave. I didn’t fight for you. I was eighteen and stupid, and I thought it was for the best at the time, and I know now that it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I am not letting you leave without fighting for you, Y/N. I’m not losing you again. I waited this long to get you back. This can’t be it. I won’t let this be it.”

“You think I don’t regret it?” You exploded, overwhelmed with the memory of the last time you saw him. “You think I enjoyed driving away, watching you sit at the end of my driveway waving goodbye with tears in your eyes? I didn’t want to, Jake. I hated it, and I hated myself for it. I cried that whole fucking drive, and then three days later I had to tell you to stop texting me because it only ever made it harder to move on. Guess it never would have mattered, because I never did, anyway! Six years later I sat in that bedroom, sorting through that box that held memories from the best three years of my entire life, and I had to swallow the fact that it will always be you, even if I don’t want it to be!” A grimace crossed his face, his heart aching at the harshness of your words.

“I hated looking for you in every man I’ve ever met, wondering if they could even come close to the boy I left at home. I hated staying up at night, listening to the same eight songs and wondering why we couldn’t be the ones who ended up together. I hated coming home and back to that house, just to realize that you were the only thing that made it feel like home in the first place! You weren’t here Jake, you moved to Nashville and you were traveling Europe, touring the world and playing music for thousands of people. You made it without me, and I drowned without you. I ended up here, back in the house I swore I’d never live in again in a town that’s missing the only good thing it ever had. You made it, Jake. You did it, and I will not drag you down again. I love you too much to hold you back. You have to let me do this for you, because you’ve done everything for me!” You finished your rant, barely able to see straight from the tears blurring your vision. Your throat was raw, your voice shaking as you tried your hardest to keep it together for long enough to make him understand.

“Sunshine,” he took your face between his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “This isn’t doing anything for me. You leaving isn’t helping me, and staying won’t hurt me. Loving you is the only thing that I know how to do, and the only thing that I need. You give me everything just by being here.”

“Baby, please.” You closed your eyes, the pain in your chest only worsening as you stared at him.

“No, Sunshine.” He shook his head, holding your face tightly so you couldn’t look away. “Please, don’t do this. I just got you back.”

“Jake, I can’t.”

“That’s it?” He asked, his voice cracking as tears filled his own eyes. “It’s over? We’re done, just like that?” He tried to blink away the pain, but it only worsened his feelings on the matter. “After everything we talked about over the last few weeks? After everything we said last night? That’s it?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head against his hold. “I guess so? I don’t know, Jake! I don’t know what to do or how to make it better. I'm trying to do the right thing. This happened so fast, and I didn’t have any time to think about it, but now that I have, we both know it won’t work! You’re going back to Nashville and I’m stuck here. You’re going to travel the world and meet so many people, ones that are way better than me and have so much more to offer. I'm going to tie you down and hold you back, and you’re going to realize it too, and I can’t get hurt like that. Not again.” You bit down on your lip to stifle the sobs begging to escape.

“You don’t get it, sunshine. There is nobody else; only you, and it’s always been that way.” There was a quiver in his voice, his cheeks wet with his own tears and he pleaded with you to see reason.

“I have to, Jake. I don’t even know if this is where I’ll stay. I could be halfway across the country again by this time next year. I don’t know, and I can’t force you to change everything because I’m still a mess.”

“I want to, sunshine. I love you.” He whispered, breaking under the weight of his grief. You shook your head again, too overcome with emotion to speak but still as stubborn as you’d always been. “I can’t lose you again.”

“Just not right now Jake. I’m not saying never, but not now.”

The words were worse than a slap in the face, making him choke on the fact that you would never be his, but he would always be stuck on your hook with nowhere else to go.

“So what, friends?” He scoffed at the word as if it were ridiculous, scowling as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Yes.” You whispered, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. “I want you in my life Jake. I always have. It’s horrible without you here, but the time still isn’t right. I need to get my life figured out. Give me some time to be what you deserve.” He watched you, his eyes casted down upon your saddened face as he digested the words he never wanted to hear again.

How, after so long and so much suffering, could the time still not be right? How could you still not see it?

But, he loved you, and in that moment it seemed like the worst curse of all. He was willing to do whatever would make you happy, even if it meant agreeing to something that would be equal to torture.

“Fine, sunshine.” He breathed, unable to resist you with you so close to him. He could never say no to you, anyway, no matter the distance. “If that’s what you think is right, I’ll be your friend, but I’ll never stop telling you how wrong I think it is.” A small smile tugged at your lips despite the pain begging to kill you.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You joked, tears still free falling as you breathed him in for what might be the very last time.

“I’m going to suck at being your friend.” He warned, still holding you close while he still could. “I’m never going to stop loving you.”

“I’m not going to stop, either.” You promised.

“Which is why this whole thing is stupid.” He tried again, desperate for you to understand.

“You’ll understand, bug. Maybe not right now, but you will. I promise.” You whispered, fighting every urge to kiss him.

“If you say so, sunshine.” He muttered, too far gone within his misery to worry about hiding it anymore. “Can I kiss you, one last time?”

“I might not be able to stop.” You confessed, feeling the gravitational pull forcing you towards him, the universe doing everything it could to force you into his arms forever.

“Could think of worse things.” He hummed, his hand sliding backwards as his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Me too, bug.” You whispered, closing your eyes and leaning forward.

You closed the gap between you, the kiss soft and sweet, the saltiness of your tears lingering on your lips as you did all you could to savor the moment with him. He dropped one hand to your waist, pulling you forward and into his lap without parting from you. You accepted the new position, melting into his arms and letting your guard down one last time. The warmth of his body surrounded you, and you wondered how you could ever give up the feeling of peace that came with his company. He felt like home, more comforting and inviting than anything else in the entire world, and you wished you could hold onto it forever.

Eventually, you broke free from the kiss, but made no move to leave. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder as another, more aggressive wave of sobs racked your body. The smell of his cologne surrounded you, his gentle hold comforting despite knowing it would be the last time you had him in such a way. He always made everything feel better, even if the hurt came from the love he gave in the first place. He held you tightly, his strong arms making it harder to convince yourself to leave. You calmed down enough to rest comfortably with him, only the occasional tear leaking from your eye as he rocked you gently to calm your mind. Then, so softly and so quietly, you heard the soft melody that tore your heart in two all over again.

He was humming, not singing, but carrying the tune enough that you would notice and understand why he was doing it.

There were no lyrics, but you could hear them clearly in your head as you clung to him and wondered why you would ever even think about letting him go.

‘Peace came upon me

And it leaves me weak

So sleep, silent angel

Go to sleep

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you.’

His shoulders shook as he tried his hardest to keep the tune, tears falling down his face as he did his best not to imagine you walking out the door. You felt ridiculous, completely idiotic as you cried and listened to him, wondering how the hell you were in the same position now as you were when you were eighteen. Back then, he put the song on the mixtape to tell you how dearly he loved you, so you could hear it from someone else’s tongue instead of his own. Now, he reinvented the song with a heart just as heavy, hoping it was enough to make you stay this time.

There was no need to retell the story, to recount all of the mistakes you made that led you to the fourth song so long ago, because you had done it just the same that day. You woke up that morning with love delicately intertwined in every aspect of your life, happiest with him by your side, and you would leave him behind with the same love in your heart, just the same as you did six years ago.

When you were eighteen, he loved you. He sat before you at twenty-five, still as desperate to show you how strongly he felt, but you still weren’t ready to receive it. You loved him the same, but you were too foolish to accept it and too fearful of enduring the same hurt. Instead, you convinced yourself that it was for the best to walk away, that the pain now would spare you from worse in the future, even if it wasn’t true.

No matter the time in between the two stupidest versions of yourself, one thing remained true even after all of the pain and all of the years; you loved him the same, just as unapologetically, completely and as wholly as he loved you.

All you needed was the air that you breathed and to love him. Sometimes, you didn’t even need the air and could survive solely off the latter. You spent all your life searching for him, wandering aimlessly while he was gone and wondering when he would come back, just to find the quickest way to throw the opportunity in the garbage as soon as it presented itself to you.

Why were you so eager to walk away when you had been awaiting the day he would return?

Why were you so keen to suffer when he was right in front of you, promising to make it all better?

Worst of all, why, if it was supposed to be the right thing to do, did it hurt so fucking bad?

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