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rafey-baby · 3 months ago

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clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

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

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head.

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists.

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

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

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with.

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms.

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him.

“You, uh, you got one?”

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion.

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives.

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class.

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff.

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words.

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot.

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

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes.

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can.

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.

Her head is spinning.

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

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dilf-docs · 3 months ago

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I'm Happy Where The Devils Are

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship™, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded

word count: 7,629 words

side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)

part: I / II

It was winter when he first touched you.

Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.

You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.

Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.

It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.

It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.

But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.

On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.

"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"

He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.

"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"

"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."

He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.

"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.

"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.

"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.

And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.

His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.

"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"

Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.

"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.

But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.

Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.

You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.

"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.

It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.

It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.

But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.

And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.

Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.

"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.

"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.

You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"

"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.

"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.

"If you need anything, just tell" she says.

When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.

The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"

"M' not y'r daddy"

You shiver despite the closed windows.

"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"

He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.

"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.

Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.

You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.

"Joel, why are you here?"

The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.

"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.

Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.

Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.

"Joel, what are you doing?"

He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.

"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.

It's like he was never there.

It was spring when he first kissed you.

It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.

Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.

"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"

And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.

Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"

Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.

The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.

"Yeah?"

A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.

"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.

"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"

You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.

"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.

Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.

"Hey"

Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.

"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.

"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.

"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"

"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.

You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"

"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."

You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.

You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.

"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"

He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.

Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.

"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"

"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.

Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.

You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.

"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"

A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.

You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"

"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.

"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.

"Sugar..."

You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.

"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"

"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"

They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.

You don't know why you do it, but you do.

You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.

"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"

And then you jump.

The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.

It's barely a second, like a blink.

The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.

You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.

You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.

Joel jumped too.

"What are you doing?!" you shout.

What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?

"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.

"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.

"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"

There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.

"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.

His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.

"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.

You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.

It was summer when he became yours.

You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.

The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:

"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"

You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.

Before you worry, a voice behind you says:

"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"

It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.

"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.

"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"

"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"

"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"

You smile, "Joel?"

He doesn't look at you, "yes?"

You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"

"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"

He's a terrible liar.

As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.

It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"

"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.

"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"

He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.

"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.

"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"

If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.

"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"

You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.

"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"

When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.

"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"

"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"

"Sugar-" starts, condescending.

"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"

"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"

"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.

He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.

Maybe this is how it feels like.

He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.

"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"

Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.

"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"

He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.

"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"

He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.

"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.

"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.

He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.

"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.

He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).

"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-"

"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"

Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes.

"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"

He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.

"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.

"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"

"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.

You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.

"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"

It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.

"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"

"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"

"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.

Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.

"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.

"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.

"Good girl" he coos.

His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.

Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.

Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.

"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"

His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.

"Mhm" you whine.

"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"

"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.

"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.

"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"

"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"

Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.

Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.

"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"

You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.

"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"

The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.

It was autumn when he said I love you.

Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.

Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.

But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.

There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.

"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"

"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.

He looks around, "do your-"

"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"

He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.

"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"

Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.

"How'd you do that?"

"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.

"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"

You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"

He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.

"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.

You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"

He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.

"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"

As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.

"Joel" you mumble, breathless.

"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"

"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"

"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"

"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.

Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.

"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"

"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"

"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"

You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.

"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"

He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.

You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.

"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"

You can't deny him anything.

"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.

"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"

But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.

You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.

You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.

"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"

"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.

Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.

"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.

Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.

He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.

"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.

But you hear.

It was winter again, when he broke your heart.

Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.

You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.

They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.

It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.

It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.

"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.

The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.

Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.

You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.

Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.

"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"

You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.

"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.

"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.

"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"

"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"

"M' sorry"

The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.

There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.

"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"

"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"

"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"

He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.

"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.

"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"

"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.

"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.

Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.

It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.

So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.

"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"

You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.

"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.

"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"

"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"

"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"

Coward. Asshole. Idiot.

Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"

He's about to speak but you cut him off.

You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"

He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.

You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.

But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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buckysfaveplum · 1 month ago

Text

man of the house

summary: without each other, bucky and you wouldn’t know how to be

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 5k

warnings: descriptions of the reader having breasts etc, bucky’s trauma, fighting, super super SUPER SOFT SMUT, (like not even but mentions) 18+!! (MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE!)

a/n: soooo this one is differentttt, and idk lmk if you like. I love Rachel's new song for Romeo + Juliet and it made me think of Bucky sooooo here we are

masterlist | send requests

How sweet

You're the man of the house to me

Water beads streamed down your back as you stood beneath the shower head. Your hair clung to you in clumps as you soaked in the calm within the tile room. Steam slowly overtook the bathroom, leaving you with smooth breaths and serenity as you scrubbed at your scalp.

You watched from through the glass door as he washed his face. His hand moved roughly without pausing as if he thought to be gentle with himself like it wasn’t necessary. He was never like that with you. His hands seemed to melt at your skin, once hard and cold suddenly silky and fragile on your body.

His left side was empty, his arm long removed and in the wash, as he prepared for the night's end. It took you so long to convince him to remove it around you, to give himself a break from the heavy load constantly being lugged on his side. He did it once for a bit. One time led to another and another. Here you were.

He brushed a lush white towel across his face. Placing it back on the counter, he began to undress. The steaming water ran off you as your eyes followed him. His shirt came off quickly, gently being placed in your laundry bin. Through the fog of the glass, you could make out his most prominent scars, scattered across his back in dark browns and reds. Some raised and a light peach, lighter than his skin. He moved to his pants, undoing his waistband and slipping them off; he discarded them the same as his shirt.

Your voyeuristic gaze continued as he took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. You watched as his eyes roamed over his body, clocking each imperfection that he knew you’d kiss in just a moment. Once finished, he turned to see you watching. A small smile crept on his stoic face as he took in your face through the fogged door.

He took a step closer, standing before you and looking at you through the glass. The warmth of your breath had cleared a soft view of your face through the condensation. You glanced up at him, your brows twitching up in a soft and inviting expression. A kind smile grew as you tilted your head at his gaze. Come in, join me.

You stepped back as he opened the shower door. Steam streamed from the entrance, letting in the biting cold of the outside and flushing the bathroom mirror. Clouding it, blocking any more raging thoughts of his.

He stepped inside making the small tile room shrink. He approached you slowly, stalling his movements as he stood before you undressed. He was always like this in the shower. He had no issues with nudity with you, not anymore. Showers were intimate, however. More intimate than sex for him. He’d first felt vulnerable, trapped. His showers, if you could even call them that, under Hydra more so resembled the way you would've hosed off a dog. Bathing was personal and something he never thought he’d share with someone. Until you.

His eyes were glued to your face, his hand itching to hold you close but freezing just above your hips. His brows furrowed as if pleading with you for permission.

“Hi,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. His hand finally rested on you, firmly gripping at your flesh.

You ducked your head under his chin, resting under him. Your breasts brushed across his chest as you both breathed in the misty air of the room. His hand roamed across your body, up your waist, and to your back, pulling you close. You looked up at him, as he glanced down at you.

“You’re soft,” he said, tightening his grip on your back,

You chuckled and leaned in, beginning to press gentle kisses along his jawline. You lead them further, moving down his neck and below. You paused at the mangled scarring along his left shoulder. You placed a hand tenderly along the tissue, moving slowly across the bumps and ridges of the barrier between his body and the vibranium. As your hand moved, you felt his head press into yours, resting himself on you as you explored his most vulnerable places.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it or even touched it. You’d seen him undressed so often that you barely spared a glance at it. The scarring was just him, just Bucky. You continued your kisses, placing them meekly along the scarring; before leaving a final kiss on the vibranium of his shoulder.

Your hand moved to hold his cheek and take his gaze. You pulled his face to yours, keeping him close under the hot water of the shower. Hot, never cold. Always hot, steaming the room and peeling the paint along the side of the door. You didn’t mind, you could just repaint it.

His hand slowly moved up, cupping your breast gently as he pulled you close. His lips met yours, soft and never pushing for dominance. He kissed you like he wanted to know you like he was holding a deep conversation in the dead of night when the moon’s light was all that filled the room.

Your hand slipped down his chest, lingering at the curves and dips of his muscles; each time you encountered a scar you simply continued because it was nothing to mull over for you. It never was to you.

“I love you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. It always became rough deeper into the night as his body prepared for rest.

“I love you, Buck,” you said.

Your movement stalled just at the bottom of his abdomen. The trimmed hairs of his lower half tickled your fingers as you paused and sought his permission. He nodded gently but quickly, leaning further into you as you took him in your hand.

I watch you from the window and I see the good in you

The good in me

That's who you are

And what I need

It's what I need

Your legs stretched before you along the bay window seat as you watched the cars and people pass by on the streets below you. The window was swung open, letting you take in the warm summer air as you sat with your book. Your fingers danced over the pages in your hands, the text inside long forgotten as you watched outside. It had been an hour, he would be home any minute. You always did this, if you could. If you were home and knew he was coming back. You slipped your legs out and rested on the fire escape as you sat on the windowsill.

People continued to pass; laughing friends, businessmen in a rush, couples, and parents chasing their children. You couldn’t help but wonder if one day that would be you and Bucky.

The trees along the street swayed in the wind, petals of the white flowers dotting their bushes flowing in the breeze. The pigeons sat up along the phone lines, flapping and cooing. The loud car horns below flowed into the air, mixing with the other noises around you and creating the music of your neighborhood.

You’d always loved living in Manhattan, you couldn’t imagine leaving. Until you met Bucky. Maybe it took falling in love with a local to fall in love with Brooklyn. Even if this local hadn’t lived there for 90 years. Maybe that’s what did it, seeing the timeless charm and old beauty of the borough from someone who knew it when it was younger.

Your thoughts stilled as you saw him coming down the road. Two full bags of groceries filled his arms as he walked the worn cobblestone streets. His leather jacket was gone, a blue henley and jeans. You remembered last summer when he refused to leave the apartment without it, despite the record heat of the city. It was hard to believe that was a year ago.

His face lit up as he saw you. Sat on the window, smiling and waiting for him. He never thought he’d be there in life. Where he could leave and had to hurry home, where someone would be missing his presence and awaiting his arrival.

You leaned forward out the window, holding the metal of the ladder for support. You gave him a strong wave and giggled as he watched you. You could’ve sworn you saw his pace quicken at the sight of you. You stood on the fire escape, resting on the railing as you watched him approach your building.

“Hello, doll,” he said, smiling up at you.

“How was the grocery store?” you asked.

“Boring, and they didn’t have any broccoli raboni…” he said, struggling to remember the word for the vegetable you had told him you wanted.

“No broccoli rapini??” you said, feigning a gasp and clutching your chest. His subtle laugh slipped out at your acting.

“Think you could help me with the door? I got more than we needed,” he said.

You nodded with a giggle, slipping back through the window and rushing through the apartment. You grabbed your keys and ran down the stairs. He watched you from the window of the apartment door, placing the bags on the floor in preparation for what he knew was coming.

You raced through the door and down the stoop. You jumped into him, wrapping yourself around him. His arms slipped under you, holding you tight as he gave you a little spin. He paced you back to the ground, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“I missed you,” you said, keeping your arms around his neck.

“I was gone an hour, doll,” he said. He loved teasing you; it didn’t matter how long he was gone, he always missed you. It could’ve been an hour, 20 minutes, or a second. He was always missing you.

“So you didn’t miss me?” you asked, pretending to be offended.

“You know I missed you, babydoll,” he said, tightening his grasp on you and pulling you into a hug.

You rested there for a second, relaxing in his hold in the warm New York weather. The sounds of earlier were louder, rushing into your ears and swirling in your head. Your giggles from just seconds ago joined the music, flooding through neighbors' windows just as it did for you.

“You gonna help me with the door?” he said lightly with a small laugh.

You nodded eagerly and reached for one of the bags. You struggled to lift the overflowing reusable bag, huffing up the stoop and opening the door.

“Geez, this shit is so fucking heavy!” you said, cursing your way up the steps. Bucky just chuckled as he passed you, taking the back from you into his spare hand.

“Yeah, I never said to take it,” he said.

Do you have doubts?

I curse your name

It brought me pain and now

Without you, I don't know how to be

Hurts so bad it brings me to my knees

I still believe

The scrapping of Bucky’s hand along the hardwoods woke you from your dreams. The usual warmth you’d find in the comfort of your bed had long been rendered cold and empty. He was slipping out of your reach, going backwards; his mind desperately trying to pull him back into the dark place you had found him in. He returned to his makeshift bed in the living room a few days ago.

You tried not to take it personally. You knew it had nothing to do with you. Yet after six days of him sitting at the other side of your bed and watching over you as you slipped gently into slumber, only to leave you alone, it began to take a toll on you.

You’d begged him to talk to you about it, you could feel him slipping between your fingers. He didn’t leave the apartment as much as usual. When he did, you noticed the leather gloves he had long stashed away seemed to reappear magically. He didn’t point out every cute dog he thought you would like on the street, something that often sprinkled your conversations with laughter since you’d met.

His beard, normally just a thick stubble, had begun to grow, alerting you to his deviation from his daily routine; something we had always been strictly religious about. He was struggling, struggling to stay above water in waves that you didn’t even know how to calm. You’d tried to throw him a lifejacket several times, but he just kept swimming away. You didn’t know what to do.

You slid from your bed and dipped from your bedroom and into the living room. He lay beside your couch, a thin spare bed sheet draped poorly over his legs, exposing him in just his sweats. He thrashed slightly, his brows knit tight and face locked in agony. His chest was exposed to the cool 3 am air, coated in a fresh layer of thin sweat. His breaths were rapid and uneven, his dog tags slipping as his chest heaved. His vibranium arm stretched across the floor, scrapping at the laminated wood below as if to try and keep him from harm; to ground him in the safety of his home that he knew somewhere deep in his mind he still was.

Before you could cross the small room to him, he jolted upright. You watched as he struggled to orient himself and regain his composure. His hands gripped his dog tags and he desperately tried to control his breathing. Wiping his hand through the tufts of his hair, dull mutters fell from his lips. You couldn’t make any of it out, but we knew it was Russian. Something that only slipped off his tongue after an especially bad episode.

Without even thinking, your feet moved forward but didn’t get far before landing on the loose and creaky floorboard near the kitchen bar. Freezing in place, hoping your spot in the dark would cloak you from his gaze, your face contorted in embarrassment. Of course, he saw you, sometimes you forgot he was a trained assassin. To you, he was just Bucky.

“Y/n?” he said, turning to see you.

You didn’t respond at first, unsure of how to proceed. Before you could speak, you tried to get closer.

“Please don’t,” he said. Your heart cracked.

“Bucky, why are you doing this to yourself? You always have more nightmares when you sleep alone,” he didn’t respond to you. He knew you were right. Four months ago you had left for a week for a family engagement; he had constantly restless nights shrouded in night terrors.

“Just… just talk to me,” you said.

“It’s nothing, doll. I just need to get out of that bed ya know? Too soft,” he said, his voice too casual, but the quiver he tried so hard to hide didn’t escape you.

It was bullshit, you knew it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch next to you, or I’ll sleep on the floor,” you said, trying to reason with him. “I just don’t want you alone. Let me camp out here with -”

“Stop, Y/n,” he said, his voice somewhat harsher as he stopped you “I’m sorry, sorry, just no.”

You watched as he rose from the pile of cheap fabric on the floor, stretching his back as he made his way into the kitchen. It wasn’t lost on you how he passed you without a single touch; no kiss on the cheek, squeeze of your hips, or quick grasp of your hand. He never used to do that, he couldn’t not touch you. But six days ago, those little touches disappeared.

“Bucky,” you said, following behind him. He didn’t seem to acknowledge you behind him as he poured a glass of water from the sink. “Please, what’s going on? I know you, something happened.”

“I’m fine, doll. Just drop it,” he said as he chugged his drink.

“Is…is it me? Did I do something? If I did just tell me, I’ll-”

“No!” He spat out, almost stunned you could think that. “No, no it’s not you. It’s never you.”

He came close to you for the first time that night. You could see his hands twitching at his sides, desperately willing himself to reach for you. But he never did.

“It’s me, I can’t…” he muttered, almost too broken and soft for you to understand.

“What, Plum? Talk to me,” you said.

It was second nature, you didn’t even think. You reached up for him, your hand running along his vibranium arm and briefly brushing against his bare side. You barely touched him, but you could feel it, he’d never tensed like that before.

He stumbled back, softly batting your hand away. Your chest ached as you watched, a sight you never thought you’d have to see.

“Bucky, wha-” he was out of your sight before you could ask what happened. He rushed to your bedroom. You slowly followed, careful to keep your distance. Until you saw him getting dressed and grabbing his keys. Then you broke.

“Honey, what’s going on?” you asked in distress. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. Please just tell me what’s going on.”

“I need to go, now,” he said, grabbing his gloves and boots and slipping past you.

You rushed after him. He didn’t look at you as he tied up his boots. He knew if he did he’d see tears. He knew if he looked he’d see the way your small hands trembled and pawed at his large henley draped over your body. He knew if he looked, he’d give in. He'd stay. And he couldn’t. He had to leave, for you.

He began to move for the door, prepared to slip out into the night when he heard your soft sob. He froze, his body rigid and hand still as it hovered over the door handle.

“Please stay, Plum,” you said. He could almost gag. He was disgusted with himself. He did this to you. He was hurting you, no matter what he did. You deserved an explanation, of course, you did. But he knew if he told you, if let you in, he’d break. You talk in that way that seemed to quell all his fears, that made everything okay. And he’d stay, because he was weak; always weak with you.

Not now, he couldn’t be weak now. Not when it came to your safety.

He turned to face you. The look on your face was a sucker punch to the gut. He swore he deserved all the pain under Hydra just for that. For the pain he was causing you.

He stepped forward, you didn’t move as quiet tears slipped down your cheeks. His right hand gently reached out and swiped them away, soaking in every second his skin brushed against yours. For one last time, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. Your hands reached for him, yearning to hold him once. But he was gone from your touch as soon as he was there.

The front door was swinging closed once again before you knew it. He was gone.

You're breaking my heart in the best of ways

How many versions of myself will it take?

How many men I've seen with a similar face

I always look for you in so many ways

The first one to go is the worst to take

With all of my love comes all of the pain

You come and you go and I stay the same

But if you came back now, I'd take your name

The morning came quickly, flushing the apartment in light and leading the way into noon. You didn’t seem to notice. Your body had spent the following hours curled on your old loveseat. You always told Bucky you needed a bigger one. Maybe had he left under different circumstances, that memory would’ve brought a small laugh from you.

The hours since he left were filled with silence. For the first time in a long time, you swore the city was silent. The music of your neighborhood that you had grown so fond of seemed to go quiet at that moment. Like the city was mourning for you.

Maybe you could’ve done more, maybe you could’ve been there for him before it got so bad. Maybe if you hadn’t listened when he said to stay in your bed that first night. Maybe if you had pointed out the dogs to him. Maybe he would’ve stayed.

You knew you should've been mad, but you weren’t. Just worried. Where was he? Where did he go? Was he safe? Was he hurt?

You needed to shower, you needed to move from your spot on the couch. Hours had passed, leaving you to watch the day slip away. You hauled yourself up off the sofa, taking note of the familiar patch on the left back cushion. The haphazard sewing job was the result of the fabric getting caught in Bucky’s arm plates during a more heated intimate moment. You wished you could say it made the moment hotter, but it just ended in laughter and Bucky nakedly struggling to free himself.

He was everywhere. All over the apartment. Each picture frame, each book. Spilling out of the bin with his never-ending dirty clothes. Overflowing in each paint stroke from the days you decided eggshell was too dull and aged ivory would look much brighter. Bursting through the walls, and flowing into each corner of the home you had built together. You couldn’t escape him.

He was the man of the house to you.

The only person you ever needed. Your security, your love, your happiness, your comfort. Your home, he was your home. This was just an apartment.

You stepped into the bedroom to find his sweats from the night before. You gently slid them on, the baggy fit of his spare clothing wrapping your body in whatever you had left of him. As the smell of his cologne and skin surrounded you, you wondered if he’d be back before the smell of him faded.

You found yourself drawn back to your fire escape window, watching the people below. You slid the window up, stepping out onto the iron platform and taking in the crisp fresh air. It filled your lungs and swirled inside as if trying to breathe any bit of life into you.

You watched the people passing below. The familiar faces blended into the crowds as the busy streets went on with their day. The city never failed to remind you how small you were. How as your life crumbled, as your everything was going, the city kept moving. People kept moving. The world kept spinning.

Your roaming eyes froze as they landed on one tall figure, stopped below the awning of the bodega below. The man watched you, a look of longing and despair deep in his blue eyes. You watched as his hands fidgeted with the leather gloves covering them, almost aching to take them off. Bucky was practically wailing as he watched you.

He stepped forward, never breaking his eye contact with you as he crossed the street. The deep dark circles under his eyes stung, all you wanted was to hold him as you both slept. He crossed over to your building, pausing below the fire escape. Your brows furrowed in anguish as you looked at his tired face. His clothes from the night before looked somewhat disheveled as if spending the evening hiking through trees.

Your hands gripped the railing as your body leaned forward slightly. A tight-lipped soft smile was all you could manage as you gazed upon him. His body shook slightly with tremors, his familiar anxiety taking over. You just wanted him close.

His face spoke for him, pleading for you to invite him in. He needed to know you wanted him back, that he was allowed in. Not back into the home but your life. He needed to know he was welcome. You nodded to the door before slipping back through the window. You caught sight of him racing for the door on your way in.

How does it feel to be God?

I'm in the palm of your hand

You waited by the door, hands trembling as he slowly slipped inside. His demeanor was nervous and cautious. Too careful to get close to you. He couldn’t meet your eyes.

“I’m… I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry,” he said, muttering as he struggled to find the right words. You knew he never would. Bucky was always one to stumble over his words when he cared. Like all the emotions and all that passion was yearning to come out, so much it hindered his speech.

“Bucky, why?” you asked, your voice was faint and tired. He was gutted at the sound.

He took a step forward as he spoke,” I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Last night hurt, Buck.”

His face was devastating, he could hide the pain that washed over him. He knew it, but hearing you say it crushed him. You wanted nothing more than to pull him close. But you couldn’t, you knew you shouldn’t. Not only should he initiate, but he needed to explain.

“I know, I’m… I’m s-so sorry, babydoll,” he said, the strength in his voice wavering. “It killed me, I never wanted to, Ididn’t want to leave.”

“Then why did you?” You asked, stepping closer.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You took a moment, his head hung low as he spoke. It became clear at that moment. Why he avoided your touch, the bed, why he left. He was afraid.

You slowly came closer, leaving only a foot between the two of you. He shook before you as he fidgeted with his gloves again.

“Can I?” you asked.

He hesitated before meeting your gaze. His hands rose to yours. His eyes watched as you gently stripped the gloves from his hands and placed them on the counter. Your thumb brushed over the plates of vibranium.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice still shaky.

“What’s going on, Buck?” you asked. You continued to stroke his hands, coaxing him to a calmer mood.

“Last week, I-I had a bad nightmare,” he said.

“In the living room?” you asked.

“No, in the bed. I didn’t wake you up. I…I couldn’t.

You didn’t look away or still your hands. You listened, refusing to allow him to think you were scared or unwilling to listen.

“I didn’t know what to do, I’d never- I couldn’t tell you. I just… I was so scared,” he said.

You stepped closer. Your hand moved to rest on his neck, slow enough for him to stop you if he needed to. He didn’t.

“What was the nightmare, honey?” you asked.

“It’s a little blurry now, I was so scared I couldn’t even take it all in. But, all I needed to know was what mattered. I was him again. You tried to help, to help me, but…. I killed you,” tears clouded his vision as he spoke, he willed himself to finish for you. You deserved to know everything.

“I was him again, so easily. And I killed you, I killed you Y/n.”

His mumbling began again, the nerves and fear taking over. You no longer hesitated to pull him close. You tucked his head snuggly into the crook of your neck. His tears soaked the collar of your shirt, his hands gripped tightly at your waist and held you firm.

It all became clear. The pulling away, the distance, the makeshift bed. The way he flinched from you. He wasn’t afraid of you or mad at you. He was scared of himself. Scared for you.

“Why didn’t you tell me? It was a nightmare, Buck, you’d never,” you said, carding your fingers through his messy hair.

“I was scared that you’d hate me. That you’d be afraid of me. You should be,” he said.

“I’m not afraid of you, I could never be,” you said. His grip on you tightened at your words.

You stood in silence for a moment, allowing the sounds of the street to flood through the window and surround you both. You held him tight as if your grasp could shake each violent and self-destructive thought from his body. You held him for each moment you couldn’t over the past six days.

“Why did you come back?” you asked.

He pulled away to look at you.

“I don’t know, I’m scared I’ll hurt you, I can’t… I can’t hurt you,” he said. You cupped his cheeks and pulled his focus back to you.

“You won’t, Bucky. You know that, I know you do,” you said, your voice unwavering.

“I didn’t leave last night, not really. I couldn’t,” Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words. “I stayed on a bench in the park across the street. I…I couldn’t go far.”

His words rattled in your ribs and caused your heart to ache. You brushed your thumb along the grown-out stubble along his jawline. Gently, you leaned close and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t….I don’t think I know how to be without you. I-I need you,” he said.

“You think it’s not the same for me?” you said. “Plum, you’re my everything. If I lost you for real…”

Words faded on your tongue, the thought alone clouding your mind with anxieties and dread.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice low.

“I need you here, this is our home,” you said. He rested his forehead on yours, relaxation finally washing over his body in your arms.

The hairs on his neck pricked at your fingertips as you gently brushed against his jaw. You didn’t mind. Even if it hurt, if it tickled, if it was soothing. You wanted it all, you wanted him.

“Please stay, you won’t hurt me. You know that, Bucky. I know you do,” you said.

He nodded tenderly against you, a faint sob escaping his lips. So soft you almost missed it. His hands grabbed tightly at your back, keeping you tucked firmly against him. So close no one could hurt you.

So close the winter soldier couldn’t even crawl back into his mind if he wanted, not with you beside him.

“Who else will protect me if not you?” you asked.

How sweet

You're the man of the house to me

taglist:

(comment to join <3)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #tfatws #bucky barnes fic #fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #fanfiction #Spotify

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https-lvesick · 2 months ago

Text

♡ ⭑.ᐟ 엔시티 드림 . . "merry christmas, loverboy!"

scenario . . ♡ you’ve been bragging about your christmas gift for the whole month and, even though your boyfriend had been arguing you couldn’t beat his gift for you, he was curious, after all, you were talking too much. he didn’t expect you to tell the truth. it’s the first christmas eve you’ve spent alone since you started dating, a few months ago, so you decided to prepare something memorable. he found you lying on the bed, completely naked, well, not completely since you had a big red ribbon around your breasts, offering yourself as the special gift.

content . . 𝜗𝜚 boyfriend!dream x fem!reader, first time as a couple! [mk] protected sex, praising, squirting, kinda rough sex, mark is lowkey a beast ♡ [rj] protected sex (in my mind), praising, breast play, renjun is a whiny sub ♡ [jn] unprotected sex, virgin!reader, big dick!jeno, power play, cervix fucking, creampie, jeno it’s too good for this world ♡ [hc] fingering, messy sex, mention of squirting, mirror sex, haechan is a bit of a perv and kinda mean (but wbk) ♡ [jm] fingering, cunnilingus, praising, jaemin is a softie and… kinda pussydrunk ♡ [cl] unprotected sex, implied breeding kink, mentions of children (as next christmas’ gift), GIVE THIS MAN A KID Y’ALL, chenle is completely obsessed ♡ [js] unprotected sex, creampie, clothed blowjob (?), slight size kink, jisung is needy

lola's notes .: oh, haii >.< i’m kinda back yippie! i’ve been facing terrible writer’s block that is eating me alive and i’ve been kinda… depressed bc writing is literally my favourite thing to do, (stardew valley, close your eyes) so it’s being hard for me… anyways, dropping this hc (which i didn’t know i could write on time) so you can enjoy it while i’m away! also, i’m closing requests for now :( i have like 8 in line and, as i said, i can’t write now, but i’ll do it as soon as possible. i have some other projects to do, so idk when i’ll open it again… well, that’s it, enjoy your holidays, my adorable “lola lovers” (you’ve been named by @lyvhie btw) and merry christmas! love y’all <3 (and wtf are these content warnings 😭😭)

Mark

as soon as he stepped into the bedroom, his mouth fell open. he opened and closed it several times while you giggled, watching your boyfriend freeze in the doorframe. he didn't know how to react. though he wanted to touch you, his mind wouldn't let him — not until you gave verbal permission, even though you were literally offering yourself to him. mark stood there smiling awkwardly, trying to hide his obvious arousal. but when you walked toward him, touching his arms and whispering sweet words, he melted. you peppered his face with kisses, running your hands over his body just as you'd imagined.

you gripped the bedsheets so tightly you thought they might tear. you knew your boyfriend had strong hips — he was a dancer, after all — but you hadn't imagined they were this powerful. mark had your face down, hips raised, completely lost in pleasure. he barely let you catch your breath between positions. you'd already reached one orgasm, and he was driving you toward another.

"fu-fuck, baby, slow down..." you murmured, feeling another climax building. you were already weak, but mark kept going round after round like he couldn't stop himself. his skills were undeniable as his hips snapped against yours in sharp, quick thrusts, hitting all the right spots inside you. your eyes rolled back as you drooled, completely undone, but he loved seeing you like this — pleasure-drunk and utterly satisfied.

"c-can't..." he gasped, sucking in a breath when you clenched around him. "been waiting for you my whole life. i can't stop, baby, i'm sorry." his voice was weak, matching his expression. mark truly couldn't control himself, his body moving on its own. "so pretty, baby... so pretty..." he murmured, gripping your flesh. you managed a faint smile at his praise.

one hand maintained its tight grip on your ass while the other traced down your spine, his touch ghosting over your skin before grabbing your hair and pulling you to him. his lips pressed soft kisses and bites to your shoulder as you reached back to hook your arm around his neck. mark buried his face in your neck, whimpering as he picked up his pace once again.

when your fourth orgasm hit, your breath caught, and suddenly you felt something warm and liquid beneath you.

"did you just... squirt?" mark asked, staring in awe with a goofy smile. "shit, this was so fucking hot." he kept talking, but you couldn't process his words, too exhausted to focus. he removed the full condom, disposing of it in the bathroom before returning to you. "let me clean this mess so we can enjoy a romantic christmas eve." he chuckled at your incoherent mumbling.

Renjun

he wasn't proud of his previous actions, but he had glimpsed you naked once or twice... It was an accident — or maybe he had peeked while you were changing. but seeing you fully naked for him now was simply mind-blowing. though he had a mental list of everything he wanted to do with you when the time finally came, he couldn't move. he was too stunned. when your smile began turning into a worried frown, he snapped out of it, walking toward you to cup your face and kiss you passionately.

jun had always shown you his strong and confident side. you never needed to worry — he was there, your super-boyfriend, ready to handle all your concerns. even though he looked small and fragile, he never let that affect your perception of him.

having him underneath you was heavenly. his big round eyes looked at you — especially your breasts bouncing right in his face — like you were the most precious thing in the world. whines escaped his plump lips whenever you rode him too fast or clenched too hard around him. it was all overwhelmingly satisfying and delicious; you wouldn’t want it any other way. turns out his gift was indeed better than yours.

he played with your breasts, squeezing the flesh, pinching and twisting your nipples, even licking his lips, eager to taste them. so you ended his torture. you bent closer and smiled gently at him. "go ahead, love." as soon as the words left your mouth, he took you in. renjun hollowed his cheeks, suckling your nipple, twirling his tongue around the mound, making you gasp when he nibbled it.

your hips rolled lazily on top of his, but his teasing made you pick up your pace. you placed your hands on either side of his head for support and soon you were riding him exactly how you wanted. you lifted your hips until just his tip remained inside, then slammed back down. renjun's whines were muffled by the flesh in his mouth, his eyes rolling back. a heavenly sight.

"jun... baby... i'm—fuck—close..." you whispered, biting your lower lip. he nodded vigorously, gripping your hips, thrusting back into you at a desperate pace until you were the one rolling your eyes back.

as you reached your high, you nestled your face in his neck, breathing heavily, still clenching around him, still hearing his whines. minutes later, his arms caged you as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder and whispered sweetly in your ear, "merry christmas, my love."

Jeno

he wasn’t surprised to see you like this — offered to him so openly. he’d seen you like this once before, back when you tried to seduce him for the first time. back then, he’d gently rejected you, saying it was too soon. he wanted you to be certain, especially since it was your first time. but now, as you lay before him, beautifully confident and presenting yourself to him on christmas eve, he couldn’t resist. not this time. you looked so sure, so ready to give him everything.

a soft gasp escaped your lips, a sound that sent a jolt straight to his core. jeno was slowly sheathing himself into you, mindful of every inch, giving you time to adjust to his size. your hands clawed at his back, drawing a hiss from him, though the sting was nothing compared to the intoxicating grip your pussy had on him.

“is it okay?” he asked, his voice gentle as he kissed your face. “i can stop if it’s too much.” he nuzzled his nose against your neck, breathing in your scent. “love, if it hurts too much, we can try another day.”

“jeno, babe, please, shut the fuck up.” you replied, eyes squeezed shut. “it is hurting a bit, but that’s fine. i mean, have you seen your size?” he chuckled softly, continuing to pepper your face with kisses, hoping they’d ease the discomfort. “just… move slowly, yeah?” you added, and he nodded, doing exactly as you asked.

his thrusts were slow and deliberate, each movement filled with care. jeno wanted this moment to be perfect for you, something you’d remember with a smile — or maybe something that would leave you aching for him whenever the memory crossed your mind. he wanted to mark you, to make sure no one else could ever compare. you were his.

when the initial pain faded, you urged him to move faster, to stop holding back. and he obeyed — because how could he ever deny his woman? his first move was to pin your wrists above your head, holding you firmly but tenderly in place. he loved the marks your nails left on him, but right now, he wanted to see you fully. vulnerable. exposed. his.

the shift in pace was overwhelming. he fucked you with a fervour you hadn’t expected, every thrust hitting deep, brushing against spots inside you that made your mind go blank. you were soaking, your wetness easing his way into you as his cock found its rhythm, pressing against your cervix over and over. the sensations left you moaning, eyes rolling back, utterly lost in him. jeno — usually so gentle and soft — was showing you a side of him you hadn’t known existed, and you loved every second of it.

when he finally came, filling you with his warmth, your body reacted instinctively. your toes curled, your back arched, and his name fell from your lips in a chant. he relished the sound, savouring every moan as if it were a symphony written just for him.

his chuckle broke the haze, followed by a cheeky question: “do we get more gifts on new year’s eve?” you frowned, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. there he was — your mesmerizing boyfriend, sweaty and glowing, with a grin that could light up the world. he traced his hands down your sides, leaning in close to whisper against your lips, “merry christmas…”

Haechan

you were already his goddess — his perfect little girlfriend whom he'd do anything for. he loved you more than himself and respected you like you were his owner (and you were), but he couldn't help wanting more. he wanted to touch your body and do even more things to you, and you knew that — haechan isn't exactly subtle about his thoughts or cravings. that's why you happily decided to give yourself as his gift. when he saw you naked, he moaned involuntarily, so genuine that you couldn't help but giggle. he tried to hide his growing boner, but it was useless, especially because you were smiling at him with that warm, sexy smile of yours that made him kneel immediately. he licked his lips and took off his shirt, ready to enjoy the best gift anyone could've given him in 24 years.

it was raw, messy, and definitely dirty. haechan was a perverted motherfucker with thousands of fantasies — you knew that — but having sex with him took things to another level.

he was always suggesting beach dates or pool days at his house because he wanted to see you in a swimsuit, or suggesting showering together — "jokingly," according to him— to save water. you caught his hints, obviously, and it just fueled you to tease him more. but now that he had the chance, he wouldn't let it go to waste.

he had you completely open for him, your legs spread — caged by his own — in front of the mirror. the sheets were drenched, as was his face, and you were already drooling, babbling something haechan couldn't care less about. he was too focused on your dripping core, which made obscene noises every time his palm connected with it. your grip was so tight on his thigh that your fingerprints marked his flesh.

"you didn't know what you were getting yourself into, baby..." he grinned, watching your dishevelled reflection. your eyes faltered for a moment, making you close them, and haechan stopped, making you whine. "nuh-uh, what did i say? keep your eyes on the fucking mirror and i keep going." he held your jaw, making you open your eyes and look at yourself. the shame had long since vanished, replaced by pure, raw pleasure and inhibition.

"but... it's too much, hyeok..." you whined, trying to catch his hand on your jaw, but it was futile. you could see his mocking grin.

"yeah? too much? then i should stop, huh? i don't wanna hurt my queen." as soon as the words left his lips, your eyes widened and a single tear rolled down your cheek in desperation. he'd been edging you for the past two hours, filling you with promises of making you feel good, satisfied, and giving you as many orgasms as you wanted — and he did, once. haechan made you squirt the first time and then... left you high and dry, begging for more. this wasn't how you'd imagined your christmas eve to be going.

"chan, please..." you whimpered, feeling his fingers circling your clit. "let me—cum..." you gulped before letting out a stream of pleas. when you felt his lips pressing softly against yours, you knew he'd finally let you release.

"now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" your moans grew louder when he inserted three fingers without warning, moving at a quick pace, curling inside you. "let it go, baby, give me another one. be a good girl and give me another one."

Jaemin

right, okay, you caught him. no handmade or expensive gift could beat yours. he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, admiring the stunning view before him. his smirk wouldn't fade as he walked toward you, ready to unwrap his gift. he wanted this to be the night of your life. fuck christmas at this point — you were his special event, and he would make it unforgettable.

"nana..." you whimpered, feeling your orgasm building. your boyfriend didn't hear, still devouring you like a starved man.

you'd been in this position for almost an hour now, lying in bed while Jaemin had his face buried between your thighs. before that, he'd explored your whole body with his hands, lips, and tongue. every inch of you had been kissed, licked, and nibbled. he made sure you felt special and loved — because you are.

"just one more, baby... i can't get enough of you..." he growled before diving in again. you gripped his hair, moaning loudly when he slipped two fingers inside you, fucking you while sucking on your clit.

jaemin wasn't even fully naked yet, still wearing his pants, having only removed his shirt because you'd begged. you needed to see him, to mark him. and there he was — your masterpiece, your gorgeous boyfriend covered in hickeys and love bites, just as he'd done to you. but you wanted more. you wanted to touch him, feel him, give him the same pleasure he was giving you — even more — but he wouldn't let you. not now. he was just too drunk in you to let you move.

just as he'd learned everything about you, he knew you were close — he'd seen the signs twice before — so he worked to overwhelm your senses. you came, releasing into his mouth once again, gripping his hair and chanting his name. he licked you clean before rising to hover over you, kissing your lips and letting you taste yourself.

"can my baby handle more?" he smirked. "i still have plenty of ideas to make this christmas eve unforgettable." he wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh and playfully slap his arm. soon he crawled off the bed, stripping off his remaining clothes. you glanced at him, noticing a darker spot on his boxers. "yeah... i might have cum just from tasting you..." you scoffed. "what? you're absolutely fucking delicious, baby. how could i not when i had my face buried in fucking heaven?"

Chenle

fuck. you had just broken him. he’d lost count of how many wet dreams he’d had about you, how many nights he’d jerked off thinking about your scent, your taste. and god, he hated it. he had you. he didn’t need to fuck his fist like some desperate, virgin high schooler. but he couldn’t bring himself to rush you, couldn’t risk making you feel forced. so he waited. and now, this moment? it was everything. it didn’t take much for him to lose control, pouncing on you like a man starved.

from the very beginning — from the day you slapped his face — he knew you were it. his perfect girl. the one he’d love until the end of time, marry, have kids with, and spend forever building a life alongside. it was always you.

and now, having you like this — sprawled out on the bed, back arched, skin glistening with sweat, lips parted as the sweetest, most intoxicating sounds spilled from them — he felt like the luckiest man alive. he was making you his, satisfying you in every way a real man should — your man should.

your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he thrust into you with an almost desperate pace. yeah, chenle had imagined making slow, tender love to you, but his urgency wouldn’t allow it. he needed to feel you, to claim you, to pour everything he had into you.

“ch—chenle, fuck!” you gasped, fingers gripping the bedsheets for dear life. his cock was hitting every perfect spot inside you, and the pressure from his thumb on your clit was enough to drive you mad. why had you waited so long to let him have you like this?

“is it that good, baby?” his teasing voice only made you whine louder. he wasn’t even trying; it was almost unfair how effortlessly he could ruin you. you nodded breathlessly, and he leaned down, biting your lower lip before capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer — as if he wasn’t already impossibly close. you were on the edge, desperate to fall over with him.

“don’t pull out, please…” you managed to whisper, your voice shaky as your release took over. your walls clenched around him, and you buried your face in his neck, biting down to muffle the intensity of your orgasm.

“not like i planned to,” he growled, his thrusts growing erratic. just a few more, and he spilled inside you, filling you to the brim as you’d begged him to. even then, he stayed, making sure he gave you everything he had.

“do you think we’ll be celebrating three months of our gift next christmas?” his cheeky tone earned him a playful slap on the back, and you shook your head, laughing softly.

“chenle, it’s too soon for that.” you brushed a hand through his damp hair, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “but merry christmas, love.”

Jisung

boy would be shocked. he didn't even blink for a full minute. the only sign he was "alive" besides his breathing was his quickly growing tent. he didn't notice his body's reaction until you touched him. he whined softly, letting you take control and lead him however you wanted. but when he realized he could fully enjoy his gift, something snapped inside him.

you had been teasing him from the start — whispering sweet nothings in his ear, touching all his sensitive spots, guiding his large hands over your body to untie the ribbon around your chest. when you were fully exposed to him, his hands engulfed your breasts, squeezing them as he prepared to taste them, until you stopped him.

he whined, frowning as he watched you sink to your knees, running your hands along his thighs. "darling, what are you doing, let me—fuck..." the words died on his tongue when you wrapped your pretty lips around him through his boxers. it was the hottest sight he'd ever seen of you, and he was losing control.

you teased him with your tongue while squeezing him, maintaining eye contact as he pleaded for more. you could feel him throbbing against your tongue as he whispered his desperate pleas. he felt ready to burst without proper stimulation. he was begging for it — begging for you. but you weren't ready to give in just yet.

that led to your current position — bent in half, completely exposed, with jisung's tall frame hovering over you as he moved frantically. the thin chain around his neck swayed with each thrust, brushing against your face.

"fuck—sorry, love. am i hurting you?" he whimpered. you managed a faint "no." taking that as encouragement, jisung sat up, lifted your hips, and continued his movements while stimulating your sensitive spot.

you were so aroused that the sounds were obscene and loud enough to make you embarrassed. you'd never been this vulnerable with anyone before, and being this way with your shy boyfriend made you both embarrassed and deeply satisfied. his soft sounds merged with the wet noises, bringing you closer to the edge.

finally, he finished, every muscle in his body relaxing as he let out a satisfied groan, his head falling back. when you opened your eyes, jisung was hovering over you again. "you're so pretty..." he murmured, losing himself in your eyes before adding shyly, "but i finished inside..."

"don't worry. we're safe," you whispered against his lips. "merry christmas, ji."

"merry christmas, my darling," he smiled before kissing you.

did you enjoy your reading? why don’t reblog, like or leave a comment? this way i know you liked what i wrote and surely will keep up with the good content!

masterlist + taglist: @jungaji

#nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream headcanons #mark fanfic #renjun fanfic #mark smut #renjun smut #jeno smut #jeno fanfic #haechan fanfic #haechan smut #jaemin smut #jaemin fanfic #chenle fanfic #chenle smut #park jisung fanfic #park jisung smut

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months ago

Note

can i request cregan stark modern au, with jaces younger or twin sister and maybe they like hide the relationship and its like fluffy and maybe smutty

Request: five times cregan and jace’s sister almost get caught and one time jace does find out about their relationship. I don’t think he would be too mad. He knows cregan is a good guy and would treat you well.

I usually dislike body hair (personal preference) and beards, but Cregan has a short beard in this one (as he does in all of my fics for him) because I said so, and because he’s a Stark. I think it is mandatory and missing for his character — manifesting for a beard in season 3. Also, this is 6.6k words...idk how that happened

p.s. You can find this fic on AO3 under the title Who are we to fight the alchemy

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), mention of a fight and blood, short appearance of Larys Strong (he needs his own warning),

—

When you started college and moved in with Jace, he had warned his teammates that his sister was off limits and that if he caught any of them looking at you, he would not be afraid to throw hands. He may be smaller than a lot of his teammates, but Jace was very protective of you.

They were good guys, brothers to Jace, but he also knew their history with girls. He knew the dirty secrets; the dramas, who they had sex with, where, and details that he wished he could forget about. They were not boyfriend material — at all.

You were not going to lie, Jace’s teammates were hot hockey players. It was tempting to turn your life into a cliché book trope and hook up with one of them, but you refrained from doing so. They were not worth being another name on their list.

Until one of them changed your mind.

It was a Tuesday night. You were in your room, reading on your bed while Jace had friends over playing video games. You could hear them shout at the TV and each other. After a few chapters, you wandered to the kitchen to get a cookie from the cookie jar, but found its content empty.

‘’Jace,’’ you said under your breath.

Living with your brother had a certain strange familiarity to it, a comforting echo of home despite the newness of being on your own. But some things hadn’t changed. Like how Jace never mentioned when he emptied something. Like that one time you wanted to make spaghetti, only to discover he had left an empty pasta box in the cupboard. Or when he used your shower towel because his was in the laundry. These moments made you miss your mom's presence — she’d always been there to keep the peace and enforce some order.

As you stared at the empty jar with frustration, one of Jace’s friends walked in behind you, his eyes immediately landing on the same spot. You could not see who it was, but his tall shadow was towering over you and you could smell a faint woodsy cologne.

‘’If you’re looking for a cookie, Jace ate them all,’’ you said, throwing your brother under the bus.

‘’That was me, actually,’’ admitted a deep voice with a northern accent from behind you. You turned to see Cregan standing there, his expression sheepish. ‘’Jace said to get anything I wanted. Sorry.’’

You forced a smile, the irritation fading as your eyes met his gray ones. ‘’It’s fine. I’ll get something else.’’

Cregan watched as you moved to the freezer above the fridge to get the ice cream out. You opened the lid and saw that it was almost empty, so there was no need to put it in a bowl.

‘’Did you make them?’’ he asked as you reached for a spoon in the cutlery drawer.

‘’I did,’’ you answered with a smile.

‘’They were really good.’’

‘’Thank you. If Jace baked them himself, they would have turned out like hockey pucks: black and hard,’’ you joked.

Cregan offered a light chuckle as he stepped towards the counter, his gray eyes studying the details of your face. He hadn’t really looked at you until now, respecting Jace’s warning, but now he was struggling to look away and go back to the living room.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Two months later, you found yourself making out with the Wolves’ captain in his big jeep. His hair was damp and he smelled strongly of soap and deodorant, having showered twenty minutes ago after practice.

The windows were beginning to fog as you were kissing, your hands all over Cregan's shoulders and chest. His tongue slipped into your mouth, causing you to grip his shirt when it grazed yours. You could drown in his kisses.

Getting frustrated by the gear shift separating you, you attempt to climb over it and fumbled your way to the driver seat onto Cregan’s lap without breaking contact with his lips. You bumped your head and legs along the way, and let out a little curse. Cregan laughed, pulling back his seat as far as it would go so the steering wheel would not press in your back.

From his new angle, you could feel the warmth of Cregan’s body against yours. It wasn’t as effective as cuddling in bed, but Jace would get home soon and Cregan’s small dorm bed was not made for two. He barely fitted himself.

He slipped his large hands under your shirt, his thumbs inching up and up your sides, feeling your soft and warm skin while his mouth locked itself to your jaw. ‘’Your brother would kill me if he knew about us,'' he said as his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving wet kisses up to your collarbone.

You rolled your hips to meet his, the friction causing Cregan’s breath to stutter. His hands were still in your shirt, large and warm, leaving trails of fire over your back. He felt like he was sixteen and in high school all again, not twenty-one and in college.

‘’Gods, you’re going to kill me if your hand keeps going rubbing against me like that.’’

You smirked and tipped your head back to give him more room. ‘’Jace is not the boss of my relationships. I can see whoever I please,’’ you replied, raking your hand through his hair and grazing the side of his short beard.

Cregan scoffed against your neck. ‘’Then what are we doing in my car instead of your bed?’’

He was only teasing, but it still made you sigh. You didn’t think living with Jace would put a wrench in your dating life. He meant well, but gods was it frustrating.

Not waiting for your response, Cregan continued to shower your neck with kisses, his teeth nipping at the skin before his lips soothed it. You didn’t think kisses would make you feel like this, but this man had an effect on your body that you could not explain. You pulled at his hair when he bit at the sensitive flesh there, leaving a small mark you will have to conceal later.

You wished you didn’t have to hide your relationship. You wished you could kiss him whenever you desired, go to his games and wear his jersey and cheer for him loudly when he scored a goal, cuddle with him on the couch without looking at the door every five minutes to check if Jace was coming home.

Cregan pulled back suddenly, looking up at you with his gray eyes. ‘’I should go, Jace is gonna come home soon. Walking from campus to here takes less than thirty minutes,’’ he said in a hushed tone, his breath coming in short puffs.

‘’Just a few minutes more,’’ you bargained, stealing a few kisses from his lips, not yet ready to part. ‘’I have a class at 8pm tomorrow and you leave for your away game Saturday morning. I won’t be seeing you until Sunday or Monday.’’

He let out a sigh, also dreading the moment he’ll leave you, and held you for a moment, his hands gently running up and down your back. You drinked in his scent and warmth, winding your arms around his neck and pressing your head in his neck.

The moment was ruined as you shifted and accidentally hit the horn with your ass, the loud sound echoing in the parking lot.

Startled, you jumped and then burst into laughter, but Cregan didn’t join in. His expression was stone serious as he stared intently at something in the distance. Confused, you followed his gaze and spotted Jace standing by the doors of your apartment building, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He was scanning the parking lot, clearly trying to figure out which car had honked, but with the lights off and the evening darkness, there was no way for him to tell which one it was.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

The second time you almost got caught together was before a hockey game. The team the Wolves were playing against was strong and Cregan texted you to come outside the locker room and give him a good luck kiss.

You smiled at the text and sent a quick ‘coming’ to your boyfriend. ‘’I’m gonna get something to drink,’’ you told your friends.

You snaked your way through the students and families waiting in the entrance to get to their seats and quickly made your way down to the locker room. You knew where it was from bringing over Jace’s skates last Saturday at practice. They were essential for getting on the ice, how could he forget them?

Family, friends — and girlfriends — were not allowed in that area of the arena, so you kept an eye out for anyone from staff. You could always play the ‘I was looking for the bathroom’ card, but it would add another lie on top of the others you and Cregan were piling up since the beginning of your relationship.

You found him leaning against the wall, waiting. He was in his compression pants and an old Wolves tee shirt, looking like a complete snack. You could see everything in those tight pants. And the way his hair was tied at the back made him look sexier.

He looked up when he heard someone approach and a soft smile curled on his lips. ‘’There you are,’’ Cregan said, his voice low and gravelly as he stepped to you and pulled you to his chest. You fit against him perfectly, like a missing piece snapping into place.

He leaned down and pulled you into a kiss, his hand cupping your face gently. It was supposed to just be a quick kiss — a quick ‘good luck’ smooch, not anything too serious. But the moment your mouth met his, you both got carried away.

Cregan grabbed you with ease by your thigh, lifting you up, and you winded yours around his neck, almost forgetting that he had a game to play in twenty minutes.

‘’Okay, that’s enough,’’ you decided, breaking the kiss. ‘’You’re gonna be late for pre-game talk.’’

Cregan sighed but gently lowered you back down. Your boots hit the floor, but he didn’t let you go without stealing one last kiss. You smiled into it, then stepped back just as Jace came barreling down the hallway, clearly in a rush.

He came to a stop, frowning when seeing you. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ His gaze shifted to Cregan, suspicion creeping into his voice. ‘’And why are you talking to my sister?’’

Cregan didn’t miss a beat. ‘’She was looking for you, actually,’’ he lied smoothly. ‘’Baela asked her to tell you she wouldn’t make it to the game tonight. She and Rhaena drove home for the weekend for their dad’s birthday.’’

You made a mental note to thank him later for the quick thinking. Baela had mentioned her trip, and Jace had been sulking and pouting ever since, upset that his girlfriend would miss a big game.

Jace nodded, still catching his breath. ‘’Yeah, I know. She already told me.’’

‘’Oh?’’ you played along effortlessly. ‘’She must have forgotten that she already told you. She has a lot on her mind right now, you know.’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Your breathy 'ah's and whimpers were bouncing off the walls as Cregan's strong hands gripped your thighs and held you in place while he lapped at your pussy like a starved man. The intensity of pleasure forced you to grip the headboard. The scruff of his beard was rubbing against your sensitive skin, chafing, but you kind of like it.

It was your first time having the apartment to yourself for more than two hours, and you were going to make the most out of it. Jace was at a bar in the city with some guys from the team. He won't be back until at least 1am...or even later.

When you heard about the night out at the bar, you texted your man and let him know so he could come over after Jace leaves. His teammates were disappointed that he was not joining, but Cregan told them to have fun for him.

He’ll have his own fun with you in the sheets.

The moment he crossed the door, your mouth was on his and you were unbuttoning your shirt, eager to feel his hands on your tits.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mewling at the way he was suckling on your clit. No one ever made you feel this good before. Not that you had a lot of experience to compare with.

His sweet assault on your pussy continued, the sounds you were making making him rock hard. He loved it — pleasing his girl.

''I'm gonna— I'm gonna come soon,'' you whined, feeling your core tighten and rocking you body forward in the same rhythm, fucking yourself on Cregan's tongue.

The hockey player let out a low grunt below you, encouraging you to use him how you wished. He let go of one of your thighs to run the back of his hand up your stomach and grab your breast the way you liked, his calloused thumb and finger capturing your peaked nipple, rubbing it as he flicked your clit again.

Your orgasm hit and you made circular jerks of her hips, pushing down on Cregan’s tongue and chin, drenching both. His name fell from your lips and you continued on like this for a moment, toes curling and legs tensing. Until you had nothing else to give.

He pressed a last kiss to your sensitive clit, then helped you clamber off him. ‘’You remember when I said the cookies you made were really good?’’

You hummed, although confused where he was going with this.

‘’This is better.’’

Your face flamed up at his words, not expecting such a vulgar thing to come out. ‘’Shut up.’’ You smacked his chest, his laugh rumbling under your palm.

The sheepishness he sported in the kitchen that day had disappeared, revealing a dirty sense of humor you never expected from him.

You thought you would get a breather, a moment to catch your breath between your last orgasm and the next, but Cregan — insatiable — had other plans. He rolled onto his side, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and began kissing your body with a slow, deliberate intensity. His lips trailed all over your chest, down to your breasts, and then to your stomach, each touch igniting your desires all over again. You arched into his touch, the warmth of his mouth and the gentleness of his caresses melting away any resistance.

Under his tall and broad stature, Cregan Stark was a teddy bear. A Costco sized teddy bear. On the ice, he was known for his strength and leadership, but off it, he was all heart. He was kind, caring, and protective. His caresses were gentle, and his kisses tender and loving. It was impossible to not feel his love.

Speaking of feeling his love, you felt his hardness twitching and poking at your thigh through his tight boxers. You reached down to slip your hand inside, jerking him slowly. In response, Cregan squeezed your hip and let out a low groan.

‘’I need you,’’ you gasped, feeling him suck at the skin under your left breast.

It was one of your rules: no leaving visible marks that could raise suspicions.

He gave one last swipe of his tongue over your nipple and peeled off his boxers, his delicious cock springing up immediately. Your pussy was weeping at the sight.

You spread your legs to accommodate him, offering yourself to him. He teased at your entrance, his movements deliberate as he bumped against your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you that made you whine. His amused chuckle filled the room, clearly tempted to draw out your anticipation even more, but as you shot him a warning glare, silently urging him to stop teasing.

Cregan shushed you, rubbing your thigh, and just as he was about to breach your walls, you heard the door of the apartment open and Jace’s voice echoing.

You froze, eyes widening in panic, and Cregan cursed under his breath, realizing that Jace was back much earlier than expected. ‘’Shit. That’s Jace.’’

He called your name again and you quickly slipped on a shirt and got out of bed, answering your brother's calls of your name. You couldn't risk him coming into your bedroom and catching his best friend in your bed in his birthday suit…with with a raging hard-on and your juices all over his beard.

‘’You’re home early,’’ you pointed out, coming down the hallway.

You studied him as he grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry, trying to guess his state of inebriety. He seemed barely tipsy.

‘’Drama at the bar. Ben got into a fight with some guy over a girl — which he did not know was someone's girlfriend — and we all got kicked out,’’ Jace explained, rummaging through the bag of chips and taking a handful to pop into his mouth before leaning against the counter.

You shook your head with a sigh. ‘’Typical Ben. He really needs to stop going after girls that are taken. Has he not learned his lesson?''

Your brother laughed, taking more chips. “Whose shirt is that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced down at the large shirt you were wearing, then back up at you.

You followed his gaze and saw that you had grabbed Cregan’s tee shirt instead of your sleep shirt…

‘’Dad’s,’’ you blurted out quickly.

Jace frowned, not remembering your dad ever wearing that shirt, but let it go. ‘’What were you up to? I thought you would invite the girls over.''

‘’Eh, no. I...I was having fun by myself,'' you stammered, clenching your thighs and hoping your face was not too flushed.

It wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn’t true either. You were having fun, just not by yourself.

His face twisted in disgust. ‘’Ew, that’s gross! I did not need to know about that.''

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Unlike Ben, Cregan wasn’t the type to get into fights — especially on the ice. He thought it was stupid and pointless, a quick way to end up injured or benched for a few games. As the father figure of the team, he was usually the one stepping in to break up the scuffles, keeping cooler heads prevailing. But sometimes, no matter how careful you are, you get caught in the crossfire and take a punch that wasn’t meant for you.

You shot up from your seat immediately, your heart sinking to your stomach as Jason Lannister’s gloveless fist accidently connected to Cregan’s face. It was aimed at Ben — unsurprisingly —, who had played a foul, unnoticed by the referee, and got his brother Tyland in the penalty box.

Chaos erupted on the ice. The referees were shouting and blowing their whistle, trying to break up the fight. Seeing Ben implicated, Cregan had rushed over, taking it on himself to pull him back, but that's when Jason punched him.

More players skated over, helping the referees. One grabbed Jason, and another went for Ben. He was lean but feisty, a scrappy fighter who never backed down. He shot a taunting grin at his opponent and spat blood on the ice, right at his feet. Jason tried to free himself, but the closest referee put his hand on his chest, shaking his head. Enough.

Cregan turned to Ben and wiped the blood off his nose, glaring at darkly.

You didn’t see him until Sunday afternoon. You were coming back from the laundry room, arms full with a basket of freshly cleaned clothes, and forgot how to breathe when you saw Cregan sitting on the couch across from Jace. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a hoodie, and his pretty face was decorated with a bruise close to his nose.

Your feet froze, unable to take another step. You wanted to fucking punch Jason Lannister.

‘’Hey, you’re back,’’ Jace noticed, turning his head towards you.

You nodded, trying to regain your composure. ‘’Yeah. I was doing laundry,’’ you explained, lifting the basket slightly as if to prove your point.

‘’Can you do mine next time? I’ll pay you ten dollars,’’ Jace offered with a grin.

You scoffed, shaking your head. What did he take you for, a housemaid? ‘’Ten dollars to wash your dirty underwear and smelly socks? Never.’’

‘’Fifteen,’’ he countered, still hopeful. ‘’My clothes smell better when you do it. It’s like when Mom used to do it.’’

‘’That’s because I use fabric softener,’’ you replied, rolling your eyes.

Jace frowned, clearly puzzled. ‘’What’s that?’’

Before you could explain it to him, his phone beeped with a notification. He paused the game and checked his screen. ‘’Food is here. I’ll go get it,’’ he said to Cregan.

The taller one nodded, waiting for Jace to be out the door to glance at you. Without saying anything, you set the basket of clothes down on the beanbag chair that had seen better days and went straight to Cregan, cupping his face gently. His eyes softened at your touch, seeing your look of concern. He reached up with one hand to lightly hold onto your wrist as you examined the bruise on his face.

Cregan gave you a soft smile. He could see that you were worried about him. ‘’I’m fine,’’ he said, yet you couldn’t help but notice a hint of stiffness in his expression. ‘’I’m fine. I promise.’’ He kissed the inside of your hand.

‘’I’ll fetch you some ice.’’

He tried to protest, saying that it wasn’t necessary, but you were resolute. You hadn't been able to take care of him after the game, so you’ll do it now.

You put some ice cubes that you used for your iced coffees in a plastic bag and brought it to the living room, gently pressing it to the bruise. ‘’Here.’’

Cregan winced at the cold, his face sensitive. ‘’Thanks, love.’’ He reached out and put a hand on your hip, tugging you closer, but retracted it as the door opened and Jace returned with the food.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

During the course of your relationship, you found yourself in a lot of risky situations, but letting Cregan sleep over was playing with fire.

You didn't mean to. It was an accident.

The two of you were watching a movie in your bed while Jace was on a date with Baela, and he fell asleep forty minutes in. You should have woken him when your phone showed close to 11pm, but you didn't have the heart to. You locked your door, turned off your laptop and cuddled against him.

When you woke up to pee at 1am, you saw that your brother was back and was asleep on the couch with his phone in his hand, the TV playing some older kids cartoons and his leg off the couch. Jace was a light sleeper, it would be too risky to sneak Cregan out.

Morning came and you woke up alone. A sad pout graced your lips. It was your first time spending the night together and you didn’t even get to have morning cuddles or hear his sleepy voice.

You grabbed your phone, checking if he left any messages, but there was nothing. Just a text from your mom asking if you were coming home for your dad’s birthday this coming weekend. You rolled over, breathing in the sheets where Cregan slept in last night, and left her on read and got up.

Your morning coffee was calling your name.

Running a hand through your hair, you walked down the hallway, looking forward to that first sip of coffee, and grinned when you found Cregan in the small kitchen, standing in his tight boxers and a tee shirt and drinking black coffee from a Disney mug. It looked Polly Pocket sized in his hands.

You wrapped your arms around him from the back, your body flush against his. You pressed your face into his back, and the warmth of your body against his made his shoulders relax.

He smiled to himself, covering your hands with his free one. ‘’Good morning,’’ he said in a groggy voice.

‘’I thought you had left. What of Jace? If my brother sees you in your underwear in his kitchen he’s gonna flip.’’

Cregan set his coffee down and turned, his gaze soft as his eyes met yours. The bruise on his face had significantly faded, barely there. ‘’He’s not here. I heard him leave.’’

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, and you let yourself relax against him. The warmth of his body seeped through his tee shirt, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. Cregan's hand slowly traced down your back, his fingers rubbing gentle circles at the base of your spine.

‘’Don’t you have classes?’’ you asked, glancing up at him with a small smile.

He hummed softly. ‘’Not until later. My 10am class got canceled. I thought I’d hit the gym instead...but there’s no rush.’’

‘’I’ve gotta leave in one hour,’’ you sighed, wishing you could linger in this moment longer.

Cregan’s grip tightened slightly, as if to keep you close for as long as he could. ‘’I can drop you off,’’ he offered. ‘’That way we’ll have more time together.’’

You nodded, pressing a kiss over Cregan’s sternum in thanks. ‘’I’ll make us breakfast...in five minutes.’’

To ruin the moment, you heard the loud buzz and a voice coming from the intercom.

‘’Are you up? Please be awake. I tried texting you and calling but you didn’t respond so I’m taking a chance here.’’ Jace called your name again, louder.

You groaned in annoyance and went to the door to press the intercom button. ‘’What do you want?’’

‘’Yes! You’re awake! Eh, I left my laptop on the counter, and I also forgot my keys...’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

When Jace left for college, your parents didn’t see the use of getting a car when everything was close to campus and within walking distance. What they didn’t think through would be the possibility of the bus riding home being full and not being able to make it for your dad’s birthday.

Jace: Pack your bag. We’re leaving at 4pm. I already told Mom

You: You found us bus tickets?

Jace: No. I found a ✨chauffeur✨

You: Please tell me it’s not some random person you found on a co-driving forum. I don’t want to spend two hours in some creep’s car 💀

Jace: He’s not

You should have known it would be him.

Jace called shotgun, forcing you to take the backseat. You didn’t mind. In fact, you preferred it. If you had sat at the front, you were scared your hand would have slipped and revealed your relationship. Or that Jace would have noticed the familiarity between you. You were supposed to be his best friend’s little sister, not someone he knew like the palm of his hand.

Although it was only two hours, the drive felt never-ending. Your back ached from sitting in class all day and your stomach was impatient to be filled with your mother’s cooking. Every now and then, Cregan would sneak glances at you through the rearview mirror, and each time you couldn’t hide your smile. Your brother didn’t see, too busy on his phone or switching the music.

This weekend was looking to be long and difficult.

Your mom was more than happy to have another guest over. Cregan was as polite and charming, easily winning her heart when he complimented her infamous lasagna and asked for a second serving.

''Of course! Help yourself,'' Rhaenyra said, smiling warmly. She glanced between Cregan and Jace, who both emptied their plates quickly. ''It's like they don't feed you at college.''

''I live in a dorm,'' Cregan explained in defense. ''It's hard to cook when the only appliances allowed are a mini fridge and a coffee pot.''

Your mother turned to Jace with raised eyebrows, clearly waiting for his excuse. ''And you? What do you have to say for yourself?''

Jace grinned sheepishly, swallowing his last bite. ''Can I take the leftover back to college?''

At the head of the table, your father let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head.

When you were seven, you used to sneak out of your bedroom at night to eat a bowl of cereal. It took your parents several months to figure it out. At eighteen, you were sneaking to join your boyfriend in the guest room.

You waited for everyone to be fast asleep, and avoided the creaking floorboards in the hallway. It was dark inside as you closed and locked the door behind, but you made it to the bed without stubbing your toe on any furniture.

Cregan stirred when you pulled the covers and slipped in, feeling your cold feet on his calves. ''What are you doing?'' he asked, half-asleep and eyes still closed. He didn't need to see you to know it was you. He simply knew.

You said nothing and cuddled against him, sighing happily when he reciprocated.

Morning came faster, the early rays of sun peeking through the curtains. You cursed at yourself, having once again slept longer than planned. You checked both sides of the hallway, and once you deemed it safe, you exited. What you didn’t see was Luke leaving the bathroom, his hair unruly and barely awake.

‘’I…’’ you stammered, not knowing what to say.

He was fifteen, you could not trick him like Joffrey. He knew what you were doing in the guest bedroom.

So you bolted to your own, praying he would keep his tongue.

‘’Luke knows,’’ you blurted out as you descended the stairs for breakfast, the weight of the confession lingering in the air.

Downstairs, your mother had gone all out, setting up a massive brunch spread — eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and even pancakes. Grandfather Lyonel would be coming over...along with your uncle Larys. The thought of him made your stomach twist; you had never been at ease in his presence, but he was your father’s half-brother, and that meant you had to force a smile and be nice.

Cregan furrowed his brows, concern creeping across his face. ''How?''

You quickly recounted the incident, watching as Cregan ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression growing tense. ‘’You think he’s gonna tell Jace?'' he asked, his voice dropping. ''Or worse...your dad? We got along well last night, but when he’ll find out—’’

‘’My dad is not the one we need to worry about,'' you interrupted softly, trying to ease his anxiety. ''Sure, he’s protective of us, and he might look like the kind of guy who could knock someone out with one punch, but he’d never do that to someone I care about. Not unless he had a damn good reason.''

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, Joffrey got down from his chair and dashed over to you, his small face lighting up with excitement. ‘’Mommy made pancakes!’’ he announced, his big brown eyes practically glowing. ‘’There’s blueberry ones, your favorites.’’ He grabbed both your hand and Cregan's, tugging insistently, messing up your plan to arrive separately.

At the table, Luke was talking — bragging — to grandfather Lyonel about school while Jace was helping your mom bring all the food to the table. And of course, Uncle Larys was just sitting there, observing everything with his usual quiet, unsettling presence.

At Joffrey’s urging, Cregan took a seat next to him. The little one had taken a strong liking to the hockey player, and you couldn’t help but hope that this budding friendship might work in your favor when it would all blow up.

‘’Careful, it's hot!'' Rhaenyra called out, entering with a plate full of bacon. ''Jace, can you bring the orange juice? Oh, and a small fork for Joffrey?''

You interrupted Luke and made your way to Grandfather Lyonel, wrapping him in a warm hug like you always did. ‘’Where’s Dad?’’ you asked, noticing his absence.

The burly man looked around for his son, not knowing either.

‘’I'm here, I'm here,'' Harwin’s familiar voice rang out from the sliding door as he entered, carrying a bowl of freshly picked strawberries. On top of his head was a handmade birthday crown, obviously crafted by Joffrey. ‘’Your mother forgot the strawberries. I had to fetch some from the garden.''

You grinned, stepping up to greet him. ‘’Happy birthday, Dad,’’ you said, kissing his cheek as you wrapped him in a hug.

Everyone sat around the table, and began filling their plates with food.

You mostly took blueberry pancakes, and some fruits from the garden. You had a sweet tooth this morning. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Joffrey talking a mile a minute between bites of pancakes and bacon. Cregan was trying his best to listen to your little brother — what he could make out of his words, anyway — but his attention was completely focused on you.

Two seats down from you, Luke was watching. You could feel his gaze on Cregan, and there was an unsettling tension beneath the surface. He knew something. He could let it slip at any moment and throw the whole breakfast into chaos. But, for now, he stayed silent.

‘’So,’’ Grandfather Lyonel began casually as he sipped his coffee, ‘’how's your first year of college treating you? Found yourself a boyfriend yet?''

The word 'boyfriend' had your bite of pancakes catching in your throat. Grabbing your coffee, you took a long gulp to wash it down, buying yourself a moment.

You shook your head, managing a calm smile. ‘’Not really. I’m keeping my focus on my academics,’’ you replied, briefly raising your eyes at Cregan, who was focussing on eating the content in his plate. The last time he had a home-made breakfast was with you.

You thought you were being discreet, but your grandfather noticed the short glance, as did your father who was right next to you.

Joffrey, oblivious to the tension, piped up, ‘’Jace has a girlfriend. Her name is Bella.’’

‘’Baela,’’ Jace corrected with a fond smile, shaking his head at the enthusiastic six-year-old.

Grandfather Lyonel smiled, happy for his grandson. ‘’That’s a lovely name.’’ He then turned to Cregan. ‘’And you, Cregan? Got a girlfriend? A handsome, well-mannered lad like you cannot be single.’’

Before he could answer, Joffrey piped up with the bluntness only a child could muster. ‘’I think you should date my sister,’’ he declared.

Jace’s head shot up, eyes wide.

Before him, Cregan chuckled uncomfortably, clutching his fork. ‘’Why is that, little one?’’

‘’Because you look at her like papa looks at mommy.’’ He said it so pure and innocently, yet it was true.

The silence that followed was so loud it didn’t take long for Jace to connect the dots. The truth hung in the air, undeniable and clear. Cregan shifted awkwardly in his seat, and you felt your heart pound in your chest.

Jace glanced between you and the one he called his best friend. His nostrils were flared, shock and outrage painted across his face. ‘’How long has this been going on?’’ His brown eyes glared daggers at Cregan, waiting for an answer. ‘’How long have you been keeping this from me?’’

‘’Jace,’’ your father’s voice cut through the tension, firm but gentle, an attempt to stop the situation from spiraling any further.

But Jace wasn’t listening, angry at his friend’s betrayal. ‘’How can you betray me like that? I would have expected it from Robb or Theon, not from you. You pride yourself to be loyal and honorable, but where is your loyalty in this? Where is the honor in disregarding my one and only rule?’’

He was allowed to be upset that you and Cregan spent the last two months seeing each other behind his back. It’s a reaction that was expected. But you hated that he was painting his best friend as the villain. Cregan never used you, it was never his intention. He knew what he was risking when he kissed you back that rainy afternoon in his car. Yet, he couldn’t ignore his feelings — and neither could you.

‘’How can you make this all about you?’’ you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘’Can’t you see past your own selfish feelings that maybe Cregan does love me for me and not just to piss you off? This is exactly why we didn’t tell you anything.’’ You gestured around the room.

Cregan, who had remained silent until now, took a deep breath before speaking, his voice calm but firm. ‘’You know I don’t play around with girls. I would never use your sister the way you think I am. Come on, Jace. You know me.’’ There was a pause, allowing Jace to absorb his words, then he continued. ‘’I’m truly sorry for keeping this from you, but can you blame me? Put yourself in our shoes. You think I wanted to sneak around and lie to everyone about the girl I love? It might look cool in movies, but it’s not in real life. It’s just stress and pain.’’

The room was so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop. No one dared speaking around the table. It was only silent glances.

What a way to ruin your father’s birthday…

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting outside, your heart heavy. The house had grown quiet after the earlier commotion, the celebratory mood from the family gathering long gone. Grandfather Lyonel and uncle Larys had left. The former had apologized for starting the conflict, but you told him it was not his fault. It was bound to happen anyway.

You apologized to your father — and mother — for ruining his birthday. It was his turn to shake his head and pull you in his arms.

The air had gotten colder as it neared sundown, but you didn’t want to go inside. You liked the soft stillness of the open air. It was a calming contrast to the fight from this morning.

The drive back to college was going to be tense tomorrow. You already dreaded it.

Unbeknownst to you, Jace was watching you through the glass of the sliding doors. He stood there for a moment, observing you and Cregan sitting quietly together on the patio furniture. Your head was leaned on his shoulder, curled up at his side, and his left arm wrapped around you. He recognized the Wolves hoodie on your back, Cregan’s number and name on it.

It wasn't until he saw Cregan kiss the top of your head and the soft smile that instantly bloomed on your face that Jace realized that maybe Cregan was good for you.

—

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emmaxdelicate · 2 months ago

Text

THE GREAT WAR | op81 x reader

summary: you and oscar fight about the growing distance between you two

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!girlfriend!reader

warnings: angst, swearing, use of y/n (2 times only), intentional lowercase (lmk if i missed any!)

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i felt so bad writing this idk why😭, i already have a part 2 in my drafts lmao

masterlist

rain came in sheets of water, a downpour. it had been this way for days now: gray skies, unending clouds, heaviness that settled upon your chest like a lead weight.

you stood in the kitchen of yours and Oscar's shared apartment , staring blankly at the half-filled mug of tea on the counter. the liquid had long since gone cold, untouched in the chaos of the evening. you could hear Oscar moving in the living room; his footsteps quick and agitated, not as usual, each step was a subtle reminder of the distance that had grown between you.

the fight had started hours ago, even thought "fight" felt like the wrong term. it wasn't just one argument, not really. it was more of a culmination of days and weeks, months, even, of little fractures, cracks in the foundation of the house you had built together. and now, you weren't so sure if the pieces could be put back together.

you gatered some bravery and walked to the living room. Oscar was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands and his hair slightly disheveled, you stood at the door.

"so what? you think i don't care?" Oscar's voice cut suddenly, sharp and defensive. it wasn't the first time he'd asked the question tonight.

you watched him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. "that's not what i said."

"it's what you're implying tho," he shot back, his tone cutting. he rarely talked like this with anyone, let alone with you. this wasn't the oscar you spent days cuddling with, the one who whispered reassecurations in your ear each time something was wrong.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "i'm not insinuating anything, oscar. i'm telling you how I feel. and how I feel is—forgotten."

his expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it was replaced by frustration. "forgotten? that's ridiculous, y/n. do you have any idea how much i think about you? how much i care about you?"

"thinking about me is not the same as being here, oscar," you said, your voice trembling despite your best attempts at keeping it even. "you're always somewhere else, with the team, on the track, doing interviews. and i get it, okay? i really do know how much your career means to you, and that's amazing. but when was the last time you really saw me? when was the last time we had a conversation that didn't revolve around your schedule or your next race?"

oscar winced with your words; his jaw flexed. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?"

the question just hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. oscar slumped slightly into himself, his frustration giving way to something more subdued. "i'm doing my best," he said quietly.

your laugh was bitter, like a knife across the silence. "your best? oscar, your best is killing me." you took a step closer to him.

he recoiled as if you had hit him, his eyes wide with hurt. for a moment, you almost thought he might walk away-that he might turn around and leave the room, leave you standing there with your heart in pieces. but he stayed, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart.

"what do you want me to do?" he asked finally, his voice strained. "tell me, because i don't know anymore. i'm trying to balance everything-my career, my life, you. i'm trying so hard. but it feels like no matter what i do, it's never enough."

"you never call me when you're away, only text me to tell me stupid shit instead of checking up on me. i can't be the only one doing that"

you felt the well of tears in your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "i don't need you to be perfect, oscar. i just need you to be here. to show me that i matter, that we matter." you sat next to him.

"you do matter," he said, facing you, his voice breaking on the words. "more than anything."

"then why don't I feel it?

the question came out a whisper, but it was enough to shatter whatever fragile truce had existed between you. oscar turned away, raking a hand through his hair as he let out a frustrated sigh.

"i don't know," he admitted, his back to you. "i don't know how to make you feel it. i thought i was doing everything right, but clearly i'm not."

you took a shaking breath, hands trembling at your sides. "it's not about you being right, Oscar-it's about us, about what we're losing."

he turned back to you then, his face open and raw. "i don't want to lose you," he whispered.

"neither do i,"you told him. "then fight for me," you shot back, voice breaking. "because I'm tired of being the only one fighting."

the words hung in the air, a challenge, and for one second you thought oscar might rise to it. but instead, he looked away, his shoulders sagging under everything that was left unsaid.

"i don't know if i can," he finally said, barely in a whisper.

that was your final blow. it was a punch in the gut, knocking the wind from your lungs. you stared at him, heart breaking all over again, feeling for the first time the full weight of what this fight had cost you.

"then what are we doing, oscar?" you asked, voice shaking, a tear falling from your eye. "if you can't fight for this-for us-then what's the point?

he didn't say anything, and the silence that followed was deafening.

you looked away, hands grasping onto the edges of the couch. outside, the rain again picked up, its sound a harsh backdrop to the chaos inside your head.

"i think i need some air," you said finally, your voice barely above your breath.

oscar looked at you, his face contorting with something almost like panic. "y/n, wait-"

but you were already in motion, snatching your coat from the chair beside the door and out into the rain, wich was heavier than you expected. maybe it was the wrong choice, going out there and leaving oscar alone. or maybe the wrong choice was even trying to confront him in the first place. maybe you should've just dropped him. cold drops pelted your skin, soaking through your clothes in seconds, but you didn't care. the storm inside was far worse.

you walked aimlessly, your feet carrying you down the empty street without any real direction. your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, each one louder than the last.

how did you two wnd up like this? how had the love you once shared, the kind of love that felt undestructibl, turn into something so uncertain?

you remembered how oscar used to look at you, as if you were the center of his universe; you remembered your deep talks late at night, stolen kisses, and quiet times that made you believe you could go thru any storm as long as he was by your side.

but now, you thought of the missed calls, lonely nights, and the growing distance between you two. and no matter how much you tried, it was difficult to remove that feeling.

you didn't know how long you had walked around the neighborhood, but by the time you made your way back to the house, the rain had soaked through every layer of clothes. your hair was drenched and plastered to your face, and your fingers were numb from the cold.

oscar had been waiting for you when you walked through the door, watching as you came inside. he was sitting on the couch, still in the same position from before, looking up at you with a mix of relief and concern in his eyes.

"you're soaked," he said, quick to his feet to help you.

"i'm fine," you said dismissively, pushing past him toward the stairs.

"wait," he said, catching your wrist gently. "please, don't just walk away."

you turned to him, red-rimmed and tired, and said, "i don't know what else to do, Oscar."

his grip on your wrist tightened somewhat, his eyes pleading. "stay. talk to me. let's figure this out. please."

"we've been talking all night," you said, "and i still don't know where we stand."

He looked like he wanted to protest, but his hand fell instead to his side, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"i love you," he whispered. "but i don't know if that's enough anymore."

it felt like someone had stabbed you in the chest, and for that moment, you weren't able to breathe. you looked at him, your heart breaking all over again, before you turned and went upstairs without saying another word.

you closed the door behind you and pressed your back against the wood. the tears came then, silent, without oscar to wipe them away, and you let them fall, your heart heavy with the weight of everything you'd brobably lost.

and for the first time ever, you weren't so sure if you and oscar would make it through.

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