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slowdivinqs · 4 months ago

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Golden

Summary: A Sunday afternoon on your farm with Joel.

WC: 4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Soft, dorky Joel. We pretend Abby and Joel chatted it out. Joel and JJ moments. Breeding ( ? ) kink. Oral sex f! receiving. PinV. In da farm house we’re in love baby! Joel doing physical labor…yeah. Can imagine Pedro or game Joel. Reader can paint!

A/N: I just wanted to give a HUGE thank you for all the love, kind words and support on Magnetism! You all melt my heart. Thank you! I’m not so happy with the smut in this but whatever :,)

The Sade record crackles before your favorite song on the album begins drifting through the air. The birthday gift Joel gave you last year that made hot tears fall out of your eyes, just like him when you gave him a painting of Sarah and Ellie for his birthday that hangs in his woodworking space. Your birthday last year ended with 8 hours spent in the sheets, passed out by the end of it, Joel with a sore back for a week - yet claims it was worth it.

You look up at him right now, peering outside the large kitchen windows and spotting him pulling out carrots, in a tight shirt and his work jeans, arms flexing at the particularly stubborn ones. Banjo following along and sniffing inside Joel’s wicker basket filled with vegetables, his tail smacking into Joel’s side. Rosie and Posie bleating in the distance, their fuzzy woolen coats glowing in the sun, seeming to also take an interest in watching Joel work, just like you.

You hear Banjo’s excited barks before Joel closes the dog's mouth shut with his hand playfully, shaking Banjo’s head side to side lightly, riling him up. The sun starts to set behind them, past the fence surrounding your ranch, behind the tall Wyoming mountains. Orange, pink, and yellow, exploding in waves. The bees returning to their hives from the flower box in front of the kitchen windows．

You laugh when Banjo manages to knock Joel over lightly, the two tumbling onto the grass. Joel laughs too, holding the border collie back with his forearm as he tries to lick Joel’s face with all his might.

You smile to yourself as you get back to work, just as Sade starts singing about ‘his hands’ and ‘the way the mountains look’. Lost in the haze of measuring out ingredients, 2 and 3 quarter cups flour, a quarter cup of sugar. Feeling the weight of the ingredients slide into the bowl. Just as you see Joel slowly walk towards the chicken coup, Banjo waiting in the grass - knowing he’s not allowed there.

Milk and salt are next, and you drift over to the fridge to grab the milk, your long white skirt, embraced with abstract flowery patterns flows against your bare ankles as your toes feel the comforting wooden floors of your warm farm home that Joel made sure to install after you mindlessly talked about your love for warm wooden accents. Sat a 20-minute walk outside the walls of Jackson, a small distance away from Ellie’s farm, closer to the lush woods atop the hills.

As you settle back by the kitchen counter, lit up by warm - almost honey-colored rays of sunlight, you try to spot Joel amongst the chickens, but he seems to have vanished, Banjo too.

You glance around surprised for a moment, your eyes flitting from the coup to the vegetable patches, to the flower beds he planted for you, the fairy garden that he denies he took part in yet carved all of the little toadstool homes for you, and Ellie to paint, and even to Old Beardy grazing in the distance, yet Joel is nowhere to be found.

You even turn to the back door, yet there’s no sign of your man. How can a big teddy bear like him disappear in less than a minute?

You jump and let out an embarrassing squeak as a sudden flash of salt and pepper pops up right on the other side of the window pane. You clutch a hand over your chest as Joel’s face comes into view, his cheeky smile and scruffy beard. Utterly pleased with himself at his success in startling you.

You glare at him half-heartedly, trying to hide the smile that’s inching up your face.

He reaches into one of the large pockets in his jeans, and your attempt at hiding your smile fails when he pulls out a little yellow chick. He lifts it to your view, the little fluff ball wiggling and chirping, looking tiny in Joel’s large, dirty palms. His smile grows wider and tender as he sees you beam at the sight through the window.

He scratches the chick’s head with one of his fingers before walking back to reunite the yellow baby with its mama.

You laugh to yourself at his antics. At a grown, grizzly man, surprising you with a baby chicken. He’s a dork and doesn’t deny the allegations when they’re thrown his way.

Banjo runs circles around the vegetable garden just as the back door opens, closing softly with a click. Joel’s heavy footfall, accentuated by his boots, sounds behind you, getting softer as he heads to the guest bathroom. The house creaks and groans as the water turns on. You’re back to baking.

“Smells real good.”

He hums, his, now soft, footfall appearing once again as he approaches from behind you, burying his face in your neck and sniffling dramatically, you feel his wet beard and hair drip onto your neck, giving you goosies. He’s splashed his face and washed his hands, probably so he can distract you without your scolding.

“Me or the food, old man?” You ask with a smile, continuing to knead the dough.

“‘Mm, both.” He hums, rubbing his facial hair against your neck like a cat. You suspect he might start purring soon. It’s not unlike him, even though he ignores you when you tell him that he basically purrs while snuggling against your chest as you read whatever novel you two have picked aloud to him in the evenings.

“Cinnamon rolls, bread’s in the often.” You hum, tilting your head to the side so he can keep giving you his beard scratches. He starts nibbling too now. You sway your hips slightly to the music, and the way his hands fall to your hips tells you all you need to know.

“Cinnamon rolls.” He repeats amused, smiling against your skin, nibbling again to make you tut at him, grinning when you do.

“Ellie and Dina are comin’ over later.” You say as you grab the jar of cinnamon on the shelf, leaving Joel to step back and watch.

“They bringin’ JJ?” Joel asks, voice loosing his husky tiredness and instead replaced with a lighter sound.

“Yes baby, they’re bringing JJ.” You say with a soft smile, looking back at him only to find he’s disappeared once more. That man is silent as a mouse usually - a habit you suppose. Although, whenever he walks into the house, he does three stomps of his boots - just to make sure you know it’s him. He may have gone soft, but there are some things time will never strip away entirely. His knack for safety is one of them.

Just as you’re finished adding all the wet ingredients to your dry ones, you hear Joel in the living room lowering a box, a few things spilling out. An obnoxious squeak of a toy - you think it’s banjo’s plastic chicken that Joel hid away after the noise drove Joel so insane he accidentally beheaded a cowboy carving he was working on for a month. You catch Banjo’s head shoot up as if he got a sense that his long-lost soulmate is near. Joel hides the chicken away again quickly.

He’s brought out the small bundle of toys you two own - JJ’s toy box - Joel calls it, even made one of those shape sorters and toy soldiers for the little boy to play with, and asked you to paint them when he was done, as he does most of his carvings.

This is the one thing Joel doesn’t try to hide his excitement about. Whenever he sees JJ, or ‘potato’ as Ellie calls him, they might as well be the only people in the world. You think it’s the sweetest thing, makes you want to beg him to have a potato of your own, your body going into overdrive imagining how he’d look at your child while putting them to sleep, how he’d kiss their forehead softly.

Joel begins to organize the toys, placing the few dinosaurs, soldiers, and stuffed animals in a battle scene. The soldiers are apparently no match for the fluffy bear, as he’s flung them around in defeat.

Never did you think you’d see the day that Joel Miller would organize a battle scene between stuffed animals and wooden soldiers, just to see JJ’s face light up in excitement - like the little boy's face doesn’t already do that when he just sees Joel as the front door opens.

You manage to pull your eyes away and start folding your dough. Smiling to yourself at your sweet sweet man. Your stomach swoops the more you think, kneading the dough mindlessly as you’re painfully reminded how badly you want it. How badly you want him to pump you full, make you swell. You don’t even notice how your eyes have gone hazy, kneading the dough harder and harder until you jump at Joel’s big hands cupping your wrists from behind, pulling them upwards slightly to relax them. His beard tickles the fly always at the back of your neck as he kisses the soft skin there.

“What’s got my lady all worked up, hm?” He murmurs against your neck, kissing down the side and inhaling, almost like he wants to brand himself with you.

“You.” You whisper shakily, squeezing the dough slightly like an anchor. You feel his cheeky, boyish smile against your skin, only for a moment before he replaces that smirk with a nibble.

“Me?” He asked softly, planting his chin over your shoulder to watch as you ‘work’, definitely not to watch the way his calloused hands cup over your tits. The dough between your palms is the only thing keeping you stable right now.

“Yes, you.” It’s a breathy whisper, and although he doesn’t see it - Joel already knows your eyes are drooping when you tip your head back slightly, able to breathe in that perfect scent of him after he’s spent the day working in the sun. The musk that is uniquely Joel, that screams man man man.

“Don’t know what you mean, honey bee.” He hums, his mouth ghosting over your earlobe just as his thumbs circle over where your nipples are unfortunately hidden away from him. He knows exactly what you mean.

“Why don’t you head South and find out then, cowboy?” You tease, expecting a playful slap and pinch of your ass before he wanders off to the shower, but instead, you find his hands, then his whole self sliding down down down until his knees plant themselves on the floor.

“Gonna let me spoil my desert?” He hums, his hands sliding slowly up from your ankles, bringing your skirt with them, until he can see the little cotton-lace panties that are hidden underneath. He bites the soft swell of your right asscheek that the cotton doesn’t cover.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip softly as you arch your back slightly, leaning your weight on the dough, squeezing harder as the soft caress of your thighs leaves you dripping - more so than before.

“You know I’d let you do anything.” You whisper to him, and it’s all he needs before you feel his calloused fingers on your lower back, sinking into your underwear before dragging them down, burying his head under your skirt.

He throws your panties somewhere, with a proper flick of his wrist. You can see them land somewhere in your periphery, the white lace discarded, very Joel-like in the most crude matter possible.

“Joel!-“ you begin to exclaim before his warm tongue parts your slick folds with an obscene sound. Slurping up the wetness he’s found as his calloused hands grip the front of your thighs. Squeezing tightly like it’ll let him get his tongue deeper into your pussy.

You almost want to laugh at what it must look like: his head buried under your long white skirt, like a ghost he probably dressed up as for Halloween. But fortunately for him, you can’t laugh when his mouth has sealed around the hood of your clit, when it’s hot hot hot and wet.

“Oh, Joel-” you moan in a breathless gasp, your head falling back and then forward as his tongue licks the underside of your clit, making you squeeze the poor dough for it’s life.

He groans into your pussy, tongue leaving your clit to lick side to side, sliding down your cunt until it’s breaching your drenched hole. His hands grip your ass-cheeks tightly, eating at you like it’s his last meal.

He pushes two of those thick fingers inside you, instantly curling forward so deliciously you think you might die. You lose your voice, moaning hoarsely as you clench around the intrusion. He starts moving his hand faster, paired with the suckling of his hot mouth on your clit, you’re not going to last much longer.

“Give it t’me baby- let me have it.” He whispers against you, and it’s his words that do it, as well as that final crook of his fingers that hit you right where you need him. You’re cumming with an intensity only he can give you. He slurps up all the wetness he can until you’re whining at him that it's ‘too much, too much’ and he stands. Gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before kissing you deeply. Guiding his tongue into your mouth just as he had done your pussy.

“I love you.” He whispers against your lips, and your chest blooms, blinking up at him as he looks into your eyes with a calm tenderness like you’re exactly what he always dreamed of - like he lay awake at night as a little boy getting giddy at the thought that one day you might be real, and now you are, more importantly: you’re his, and he’s yours.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, kissing him once more before he’s once again lifting your hands from the dough, which now looks positively mixed from your absent-minded squeezing.

“‘M gonna go shower, baby.” He says softly, stepping back from you just as you turn to look at him.

“You’re gonna deny a woman her fun?” You ask with a raise of your eyebrow, looking down as he re-adjusts his jeans. His hands glancing at your ass before smirking at something you don’t see yet.

“You’ll get your fun later, baby.” He says with an amused smile, before he’s turning and heading upstairs. You sigh and look around the kitchen, laughing brightly as you see your panties dangling on the hook by the back door, how he flung them so far, you’ll never know.

There’s a knock at the door at 5pm sharp, and Joel bounds down the stairs before walking to the door, the creak of it sweet before the sounds of ‘hello!’ and ‘how’s it going, old man?’ ring through the house. You move away from the kitchen to great Dina and Ellie as they walk in, JJ already cooing excitedly in Joel’s arms as he hugs Dina, then Ellie from the side. Smiling widely at the little boy.

“Hey Els, Dina.” You say softly as Ellie gives you a tight squeeze, her mullet brushed neatly, most likely done by Dina. The Ellie you know would let her hair stick in every direction like the wild child she is and always will be.

“Smells good.” Ellie says softly, a hand on the small of Dina’s back before she’s walking to the kitchen to inspect what you’ve made. You see Ollie - JJ’s favorite toy elephant that Ellie won in the Jackson Fair at 19 - hanging out of her back pocket. You smile at the similarities between Joel and Ellie, clear that he raised her in subtle ways. The most obvious being her recent taking for boots, jeans and flannels. She goes over to Joel and JJ after that, crouching behind Joel who’s sat on the carpet by his battle scene, giving him a bear hug from behind.

The afternoon is spent chatting away with Dina, Ellie occasionally chiming in, yet all three of you mainly watch Joel and JJ playing on the living room rug. Your home is filled with the delighted laughter of a child. Ellie joins in soon too, taking on the role of the toy dinosaurs which makes JJ shriek with laughter as they attack Joel’s stuffed bear, then Joel himself.

Everything is warm.

You all eat together. Roasted Venison with salad and bread, cinnamon rolls later that JJ tries to devour whole while sitting on Joel’s lap - similarly to Ellie who sneaks an extra two with Joel in the kitchen when they think their respective partners aren’t looking.

They stay in the small cottage outside which Joel made sure was perfect before their arrival. JJ and Dina fast asleep as you, Ellie and Joel find place on the couch watching some cheesy action movie that Ellie picked. Just like old times when she was a young teenager. She still leans against Joel’s shoulder all the same. Both of his girls in his arms as lights flash across the screen. You glance up at his face once, and smile when seeing he looks as happy as can be.

He deserves this, he deserves to be happy. Even if he might not believe it, you do, and you’ll let hell freeze over before you stop trying to make him happy.

Ellie bids you goodnight before going to curl up in bed with Dina and JJ. Similarly to the way Joel follows up the stairs behind you as you make your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Smirking at the twinkle in his eye you see as you pull out his favorite night dress of yours

You’ve just finished up in the bathroom when you walk back into your shared bedroom. Joel shucking off his shirt, leaving him in his boxers. You admire his broad back in the low light of the bedroom. The shadows dusting along his muscles like rivers.

You float up behind him this time, your nose pressed to the line down his back, hands wrapped around his stomach.

“I want one.” You whisper into the quiet night, and it feels like you’re the only two people in the world. He turns to face you - you rest your chin on his chest and look up at him.

“Want what, darlin’?” He whispers softly, his thumb running over the apple of your cheek as he breaths softly. You can hear his heart beating, in sync with yours.

“A baby.” You whisper, and it’s so silent, so quiet. His eyes glimmer and brighten, his breath bated as he looks down at you.

“You want that with me, sweet girl?” He whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse and thick.

“More than anything.”

He kisses you deeply, his hand burying at the hair on the back of your head. Cupping the bowl of your skull so tenderly you can feel his love for you pulse through your veins. Your arms wrap rest on his broad shoulders.

“Me too, baby. Me too.” He whispers, and emotion wraps around your throat, as you can tell it does his when you see the shine in his sweet eyes.

You fall to the bed together, his boxers discarded as he makes quick work of your night gown. Kissing along your breasts until you’re driven so positively crazy you need him to soothe it with his mouth.

Your hand wraps around his shaft and you gaze into his eyes as they flutter slightly at the sensation of your fingers, his own meet you there, guiding him inside you until you both gasp softly at the sensation. He lets his hips push in all the way moments after. Your walls grip around him, the thick, hot - length of him, pushing its way through you until he fits into the space he’s made for himself within you. The noise of your wetness clenching around his girth as he holds himself over you on his strong forearms is nothing short of one of Joel’s favorite erotic sound.

“I love you, I love you so damn much.” He whispers, his large - paw like hand cupping your skull as he grinds his pelvis against your pulsing clit, listening to the soft shk shk shk as his cock twitches inside you, pushing up against that spot inside you that turns you stupid.

“I love you too.” You whimper, barely able to think past the way your eyes are rolling. He hasn’t even thrusted yet. You don’t catch the way he’s gazing down at you, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, like you own every part of his heart and soul, like you might as well be living and breathing within his ribcage : as if you’re the sole thing causing that glow he seems to have.

He starts moving, slow, deep slaps of his hips against yours. Holding you against him as you arch your back slightly, making sure he digs against that spot that drives you wild.

Your fingers dig red lines down his broad back. His head falling forward as he groans so deep and roughly you think you might die from being overly aroused. This man does things to you that you can’t even explain with words, your cries of pleasure seem to communicate it well enough though. Everything is hot and wet and sticky as he whispers into your ear.

“You’re gon’ be such a good mama- fuck darlin’ - take it, yeah-“ he groans into your ear, and your whole body shivers. You clench tighter around him, making him gasp slightly as his hand finds your clit. “Got me achin’ f’you all day baby-“ he whines - whines - into your ear, the soft skin of his balls drags against the curve of your ass, just like his tip dragging through your walls, taking you higher and higher until you can’t even hear the noises you’re making.

He rubs your clit harder, round and round on that pulsing nub until you open your eyes and see his disheveled face. Skin flushed, hair a mess, and his gaze fluttering as he moves his hips against you- his big strong body shining with sweat.

You’re done for.

You dig your heel into the soft flesh of his ass, pulling him closer and locking your legs around him, trapping him deep inside of you.

“Please cum inside me-“ you whimper, gazing into his eyes as he fights with all his might to make sure you cum first, his hand doesn’t let up on your clit, and you clench. “Please let me have it-“

His groan breaks into a soft whine as he drops onto his forearms, face right in front of yours, his nose bumping into your own. You can feel his harsh breaths against your swollen lips.

When you feel him start to fill you up on a slamming thrust, you cum with him, clenching tighter every time you feel one of his thick, sticky ropes shoot inside you while his cock twitches wildly inside you - his moans even sweeter than the sensation.

“Oh god, I love you-“ he whimpers, his moan cracking as you push him impossibly closer with your heel, his hands gripping the sheets next to your head for dear life. He kisses you messily, tiredly as you both lie there - sweaty and catching your breaths.

“I love you.” You whisper back to him, your hand running through his messy hair as you litter kisses along his damp forehead. He nuzzles into you like a big bear still inside you as he softens.

“You need somethin’?” He asks once he’s found his thoughts again, sitting up slightly before you pull him back down with an ‘oof ’.

“Just you.” You whisper back sleepily, your eyes closing shut as you bask in the feeling and love he gives you. You feel a soft kiss to your jaw. His hand splaying over your tummy.

“You got me, baby. Always.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading ! ♡ please lmk if you enjoyed it and reblog if you did ◡̈

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #the last of us part one #joel tlou

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millionponds · 1 year ago

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Container Garden - Asian Landscape

This is an illustration of a medium-sized, partially-shaded, Asian backyard with concrete pavers in the summer.

#tall wooden gates #asian gate design #asian-style fence design #blue painted gates #trendy gate design

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raininginthenight · 2 years ago

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Landscape Container Garden Ottawa This is an illustration of a medium-sized, partially-shaded, Asian backyard with concrete pavers in the summer.

#ottawa backyard design #private garden design #trendy gate design #wooden garden bridge #tall wooden gates #blue painted gates #cedar garden fencing

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harryspet · 20 days ago

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rough hands, soft chains [2] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, loss of virginity, rafe is HUGE, breeding kink, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

In which you meet your new family, the Camerons, and learn Rafe's true intentions.

word count: 5.1k

rough hands, soft chains masterlist

The spare outfit you’d packed for your failed escape attempt was a delicate two-piece set in white. The long-sleeve, cropped sweater that featured a soft ruffle trim that barely grazed your midriff, paired with a high-waisted, flowing skirt that swayed with every step. The lightweight fabric was a reflection of your usual preference for comfortable clothes. A handful of other items hung in the closet, clearly not yours, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept whatever offering the Camerons had left for you.

After giving your reflection a look, you turned your attention your room. You floated over to the vanity, a rustic wooden display decorated with gold trinkets. You’d only packed the essentials, meaning you’d limited yourself to mascara, concealer, blush and lipgloss. You slid onto the matching stool decking to touch up your makeup, wiping away the smudged mascara and applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. Lip gloss always had a way of brightening your mood, even now. You certainly knew how to get dolled up, like Rafe said, and lucky for him, you liked makeup and clothes that made you feel breezy and feminine.

When the room grew quiet, Rafe’s words rattled around in your head. You’d always done what your father had said, let him lead you in all aspects of your life, because you trusted him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how your father expected you to trust someone else. In the end, he was the reason you were here now. He’d handed you over to someone else, like, what? A trade deal? The whole thing was completely unreal.

Something caught your attention outside the large windows. Rolling pastures stretched out before you, dotted with fences and patches of wildflowers swaying gently. Your gaze drifted toward the yard below. Rain trickled down slowly but you realized the figures moving in the distance, behind a tall white fence, were Juliet and John B. Making his way to the fence’s edge, now adorned in a work jacket and dark hat to protect from the rain, was Rafe.

They were soon deep in conversation. Your eyes lingered on Rafe’s figure a little too long before shifting to Juliet, whose movements were graceful and unbothered. She had been alone for so long, your father had been forced to sell the other three horses your family owned years ago, and her care had undoubtedly suffered as your father’s health declined. Surely, the Camerons had at least a hundred horses and the resources to ensure Juliet was well cared for and had proper company. For a moment, you wondered if she might be happier here, happier than even you.

You were grateful for the distraction when a knock came at your door an hour later. You expected it to be Rafe, but a fleeting thought made you pause, would Rafe even bother knocking?

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find a dark-haired girl standing there, no older than fifteen. She was smiling, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Hey," she said, giving you a once-over with a playful look. "I’m Wheezie, Rafe’s little sister.”

So this was the other Cameron sibling? You smiled instinctively and offered your hand. "Oh, hi! I’m Y/N."

You blinked, studying her more carefully. She looked nothing like Rafe, and in that moment, she seemed almost... approachable. Less intimidating. Her warmth, however, felt almost out of place given the situation.

"I like your outfit," she said, her gaze scanning your clothes and makeup. "And your makeup. Ugh, I wish I could do mine like that. Sarah never has time to show me how."

“Sarah?” you asked, a little confused.

"My older sister," Wheezie explained, raising an eyebrow as if surprised. "Rafe’s never mentioned her?"

You shook your head, realizing she might think you'd known Rafe longer than just today. “Uh, no. He hasn’t.”

"Well, there’s three of us," Wheezie continued, her voice casual. "And Rose, our step-mom."

“Oh, okay,” You nodded, taking in all of the information. You weren’t at all used to meeting new people, “It’s nice to meet you. Can I ask you if Mr. Ward is home yet? I kinda need to speak with him.”

Wheezie’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of disappointment flickering in her eyes. “Him and Rose have been gone all day. Cattle auction, I think. They probably won’t be back until dinner.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. It wasn’t urgent, but you had hoped to speak with Ward sooner rather than later. Part of you wanted to officially see the contract he’d wrote up with your father. Could two men really decide together that you should be married off? Was that still legal? Wheezie, sensing your hesitation, brightened up and added, “I could show you around the house in the meantime.”

You thought about it for a second, then smiled. “Sure, that would be nice.”

Joining Wheezie out in the hallway, your tour began. Wheezie led you to Rafe’s room first, just beside yours. “He likes to keep it locked,” she said with a grin, “Or else I’d totally snoop around with you.”

You liked her instantly. Moving down the hall, you passed Ward’s study, a room that felt both timeless and functional. It had a desk covered in papers and shelves filled with books. Next was the master bedroom, a room with dark wood furniture and soft linens.

Finally, Wheezie opened the door to the library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the room, and large armchairs were scattered around a grand fireplace. It felt like the perfect spot for quiet moments.

You couldn’t help but feel small in this place. It held the warmth of a family home but it was massive, the ceilings too high, and had decor that screamed “we’re wealthy”.

Downstairs, the living room was the first stop, a grand space with towering ceilings. Soft leather sofas and enormous windows that offered a breathtaking view of the stretching land and mountains in the distance.

Moving through the open archway into the kitchen, you took note of counters made of polished stone, dark wood cabinets, and the appliances all state-of-the-art. The kitchen was bustling with a couple of workers, one chopping vegetables at the counter, the other pulling something out of the oven. You noticed a door that led out to a terrace.

“These are all Rose’s renovations. She’s really into interior design, and all that stuff.”

“And the people. They work here all the time?” you asked, intrigued.

“My Dad can grill, but Rose doesn’t cook at all. So they get help,” Wheezie explained with a shrug. “I think she likes having everything perfect, you know?”

“She does have really nice taste,” You spoke genuinely, fumbling with your fingers as you looked around.

Past the kitchen was the dining room, where a long, weathered table was set for what could easily be a dozen guests. The chandelier above was massive, its crystals catching the light and casting a glow over the room.

Wheezie led you into the garage next. The space was expansive, with polished concrete floors and a collection of vehicles parked neatly in their spots, sleek trucks, a few SUVs, and a couple of classic cars you assumed were more for show. Near the back of the garage, you spotted a few horseshoe-shaped saddles hanging on the wall, alongside an array of hunting gear. There were rifles and ammunition neatly organized on the shelves, a few pairs of boots stacked by the door, and weathered hunting jackets hanging from the walls. It was practical, but still had the polished look of the rest of the house, like nothing here was ever out of place.

“Do you ride?” Wheezie asked as you took in the details of the room.

“Yeah, I have a horse named Juliet,” you grinned. “Do you?”

“I can,” Wheezie replied with a shrug. “I’m not great at it. Sarah’s better, and Rafe—well, he’s good at things like that.”

“Does Sarah live here too?” you asked, curious.

“Yeah, but she’s been MIA for two days.” Wheezie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can’t tell anyone this,” she continued, glancing around before leaning in closer. “She and John B. are a thing. And she hangs out with his friends.”

“It’s a secret?” you asked, intrigued but still unsure of the family dynamics at play.

Wheezie nodded, her eyes flicking to the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. “My dad wants her to be with someone whose family is... more prestigious, if that makes sense?”

You processed that for a moment, nodding slowly. “But my family’s not... prestigious. But Ward wants me to marry your brother.”

A mischievous glint sparked in Wheezie’s eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “Is it true that Rafe got you pregnant and that’s why you have to live with us?”

You froze for a split second, then blurted out, “I am not!” You suddenly realized how loud you’d been and lowered your voice, grabbing Wheezie’s hand as you whispered urgently, “I am not.”

“Other people don’t think I’m pregnant, do they?” You continued, “Because I don’t think I’ve done anything that could lead to that…”

You questioned yourself for a moment, feeling a pang of uncertainty. You’d learned about the birds and the bees just once, when you were eleven, and it had been before your mother died. After that, your education had been limited, and anything beyond what she'd explained was a blur of confusion.

What you were certain of, though, was that the kiss with Rafe couldn’t have led to that. You had never heard of anything like that happening from a simple kiss. To your knowledge, you needed at least to sleep in the same bed for that to happen, and you and Rafe hadn’t crossed that line. Before your mind could wander to that possibility, Wheezie spoke.

“I’m not trying to be rude, just curious,” She said with a smirk, her tone light and teasing. “No one around here tells me anything.”

A few hours later you entered the dining room again with Wheezie. You’d spend a good amount of time in her room and she’d explained more about her family, including more details about Rafe. You learned that she was Rafe’s soft spot. That he was cold to almost everyone except her. Ward had a lot of expectations for him and Rafe did about everything he could to appease his father.

“I think Rafe just wants to do things his own way,” Wheezie had mused. “But, you know, my Dad has other ideas. He’s been trying to get Rafe to be more... ‘like him.’”

Kindly, you’d accepted her request for you to help her with her makeup. You’d done hers like yours, with bright blush and shiny lipgloss. She was so excited that she practically skipped down the stairs after, her happiness infectious as she bounced in front of you. A part of you couldn’t help but smile. Was this what it was like to have a sister? The feeling was new and strange, but warm, like something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Rafe looked you over, as if he was offended by your choice in clothing, “What did I do?” You asked, innocently.

Maybe he didn’t think your outfit was cute.

“Come sit next to me,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something possessive, as if he were commanding you rather than asking. He waved you over.

You hesitated, looking at Ward, who gave you a reassuring, welcoming smile, and then at Rose and Sarah. Sarah’s gaze was sharp, watching you with a kind of calculating curiosity, while Rose barely seemed to notice, her eyes distant and uninterested.

You exhaled slowly, making your way over to the seat next to Rafe. Your knees brushed against each other but he didn’t move his.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. I’ve known her family for years, and after that everything’s happened, she’s going to stay with us. She’s been through a lot.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rose murmured, almost absentmindedly. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” Her tone wasn’t cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm, either.

Ward’s words seemed genuine, but you didn’t understand fully why he spoke so kindly. The two of you were practically strangers. Wheezie smiled brightly in reaction. Sarah, on the other hand, was looking you over even more closely than Rafe. You could see the thoughts swirling in your mind.

“I have a question-” She blurted out.

Ward interrupted, “I’d watch yourself, young lady.”

“I just want to make sure everything’s clear,” Sarah said softly, her voice quieter now. “I’m just... trying to understand why, that’s all. A marriage seems a little bit rushed, don’t you think? They didn’t even know each other before today.”

“They didn’t?” Wheezie raised an eyebrow.

The pressure in the room increased, “Sarah,” Ward began to warn her but it was Rafe who spoke up next.

Rafe’s voice cut through the growing tension, his tone firm, almost possessive. “It’s not rushed, Sarah,” he said, turning to look at her. “It’s just what it is. No need to complicate it.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the sharpness of Rafe’s gaze making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. He answering for you, as if you didn’t have a say in how things were perceived.

Sarah didn’t flinch. Her eyes held a quiet defiance. As if to change the subject, Rafe continued, “What is that on your face, Wheeze?”

“It’s called makeup,” She shot back, annoyed, “Y/N did it.”

Rafe turned his head towards you, “It’s a little much for someone her age, don’t you think?”

“I think she looks really pretty. I started wearing makeup way younger than her,” You responded quietly but honestly, “That’s how you, like, get good at it.”

“See,” Wheezie stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

Suddenly, you felt Rafe’s hand touch your knee underneath the table. The warmth of Rafe’s hand on your knee sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite focus on anything else. His touch was unexpected, as though he’d done it without thinking, and yet, there was something deliberate about the way he kept his hand resting there.

Dinner was officially served moments later. Rafe’s hand remained there on your knee as you all began to eat the carefully prepared steak, potatoes and asparagus. Your steak was already cut into a pieces, a luxury that you didn’t even know others experienced.

Sarah pushed around her asparagus, “How do you feel about moving in with us so suddenly, Y/N? I mean, do you really know what you’re getting yourself into?”

You paused, unsure of what to say, your gaze instinctively shifting toward Rafe. His hand was still on your knee, but the grip felt firmer now, like he was holding you in place, keeping you from saying something that might upset the balance of things.

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but when you opened your mouth, it all just came tumbling out. “It’s kinda overwhelming,” you started, your voice soft but a little unsure. “I miss… I miss my Dad. And you guys have all this land, and this house is so huge, it’s hard to wrap my head around it all.” You glanced at Sarah, then back to your plate. “And, like, I didn’t think I’d get married this young, but… if it’s really what my Dad wanted…”

You trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed. Sarah’s gaze softened slightly, “It’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Up until that point, you hadn’t realized you had a choice in all of this. You could see she wasn’t questioning you out of judgement. She almost looked concerned.

“Enough, Sarah,” Ward spoke sharply, “This is bigger than what one person thinks is right. I don’t expect you to understand but it’s about responsibility. Rafe is growing up and he’s decided to take on new responsibilities. I don’t see why you can’t be supportive.”

“I just think she deserves more time to decide,” Sarah said.

“There isn’t a rush. I’m not rushing them, that’s for certain. Rafe and Y/N will take the time to get to know each other.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. You could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. You glanced at him and noticed the subtle shake of his head, as if dismissing the entire idea. “What’s the point in waiting? You can plan a wedding in a few weeks, right?”

“Rafe, son, don’t you think two should spend some time together?”

“No, Dad, we’ll get married as soon as possible. If Y/N wants to have a real ceremony, Rose can plan it, but I’d be down to just go to the courthouse.”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Rafe,” Sarah leaned forward in her seat, “Are you actually crazy?”

How did we get here? You had no answers, just a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe you should’ve said something, but the lump in your throat made it hard to think.

“We’ll figure it out” Rafe said, cutting her off. He turned his attention to you, his gaze intense but unreadable. “Right, darling?”

The way he looked at you made your stomach twist. It was as though he was asking you to confirm something you didn’t fully understand yourself. You opened your mouth to respond, but Wheezie chimed in before you could.

“Dude, that’s like, so not romantic!” she exclaimed, scrunching her nose. “You haven’t even proposed yet!”

Sarah seized the moment, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Exactly. At least ask her properly, Rafe. Or are you afraid she’ll say no?”

The air at the table grew heavier. You glanced at Ward, who looked ready to intervene, but Rafe beat him to it. His lips curled into a tight smile, though his eyes flashed with something darker. “You think I’m afraid of that, Sarah?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

All you could think about was the way Rafe’s hand hadn’t left your knee, his grip steady, as if anchoring you to him despite the chaos swirling around the table.

“Can we drop it, please?” Rafe asked, his tone deep and final.

“I want Y/N to stay,” Wheezie decided.

“We all want Y/N to stay,” Ward clarified.

“Well, good,” Rose chimed in, her smile polished and hollow. “Then it’s settled.”

At the end of dinner, Ward leaned back in his chair, addressing you, “You’ll find we take care of our own here, sweetheart. Anything you need, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure what else to say.

“We should get going,” Rafe announced abruptly, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. His hand left your knee, only to find the small of your back as he helped you up.

Wheezie pouted. “But we haven’t even had dessert!”

“Next time, Wheeze,” Rafe replied, his tone firm. “Come on, Y/N.”

You followed him out of the dining room, feeling the eyes of his entire family on your back.

“Where are we going?” You asked, trying to keep up with Rafe’s long strides. He’d given you his jacket and asked you to put on your boots, before guiding you out the front door. You clutched the jacket tightly, the night beginning to turn cool. The sky was still heavy with the remnants of rain but an orange and pink sun began to lower in the sky, peaking behind soft, gray clouds, “Rafe?”

High grass tickled the bare legs hidden beneath your skirt as you walked into the fields, “Just for a walk. That okay with you?”

“You know, sometimes I think you really don’t care what’s okay with me.” Rafe flashed you an amused look, “Oh yeah? Maybe I like making decisions for you.”

You snorted in disbelief but your heart fluttered nonetheless.

"What's the real reason you brought me out here?" You asked, pushing the conversation forward despite the tension.

Rafe stopped and turned to face you, his expression unreadable for a moment. He studied you, like he was considering his words carefully. "Maybe I just wanted to see you without all the noise around us. No distractions. Just you and me."

The ranch stretched out before you, vast and quiet. The ground beneath your feet was soft as you walked, fast enough to follow Rafe’s steps. A faint hum of crickets began to rise in the distance.

A modest building tucked near the tree line, far from the main house came into view, “That’s the ranch hand’s quarters,” Rafe explained, “You won’t need to be over there, it’s no place for a woman.”

The sun continued to hang lower as you walked, casting a golden hue over the land. Rafe led you further into the sprawling escape, pointing out different landmarks, “This land’s been my family’s for generations. But my Dad was the one who made it what it was today. It’s very important to me. This land and all the hard work that’s put into it.”

“My dad’s tough on me but it’s his legacy, you know? It’s more than just making money or raising cattle. I don’t know, I just want to protect what I have. Make sure my kids and my grandkids have it, ya' know?”

He didn’t look for your understanding, his words genuine, but the look on his face was guarded. He paused, his jaw tightening slightly, “You don’t to get to be part of something big and not feel like you’ve got to give everything you have to it.”

“What if…” Your voice trailed as you tried to collect your thoughts, “How do I know it’s something I want to be apart of?”

“As my wife, you’d stand beside me. You’d build with me. Raise our children. Make a home. You’d make everything that I’m working towards, worth it. That’s a life with purpose, yeah?”

As he spoke, his voice deep and steady, you found yourself drawn to the way his features seemed to soften, despite the intensity of his words. Those blue eyes were focused on you with an intensity that made your throat go dry.

He stood taller now, the weight of his words pressed in on you and you could see the full picture he was painting. It wasn’t just the land. It was you. It was him. It was a family.

“Yeah,” You agreed, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. Your gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to his lips. They were slightly parted, the edge of his mouth curling just a bit as he spoke, and for a moment, you forgot where you were.

“Yeah,” Rafe agreed, a knowing look on his face, and his hand found the small of your back, “I owe you something, don’t I?”

“Owe me?” Your voice faltered. What was he talking about?

Rafe didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply pulled you forward, his hand firm against your back as he guided you through the tall grass. You didn’t have time to question him before the two of you reached a secluded barn, tall and clay-colored, tucked far away from the main house. The air smelled faintly of hay and wood, the earthy scent of the ranch settling around you. But you barely had time to take in your surroundings before Rafe was pulling you into him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, drawing you closer, until his lips were on yours.

The kiss Rafe Cameron had promised you.

All those thoughts you had about the land, the future, everything he’d said, it all slipped away.

Someone, something, had overtaken you. Something ached inside of you, a part of your very being that had never been satisfied. You felt like an animal, desperate, grabbing at Rafe’s shirt, wanting him closer. He was already pressed tightly against you but deep down you wanted more.

His lips weren’t as gentle as you remembered, they enveloped your mouth, his tongue tasting you, his arms keeping you where he wanted as he explored you.Without warning, he tugged you into an empty stall, the scent of hay and leather thick in the air. His hands were at the edges of your jacket now, pulling it open, his fingers brushing against your skin as the cool air of the barn nipped at your exposed flesh.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, the fabric sliding higher until it was gathered above your hips. Your eyes flew open, but Rafe was relentless, his mouth still claiming yours with fervent, unyielding kisses. You didn’t know exactly how babies were made but you had a feeling you were getting closer than you’d ever had before. Before you could process it, Rafe lifted you effortlessly, his hands sliding to cup your bottom as he held you tightly against him. Part of you began to panic.

Then, with deliberate care, he laid you down. not on the rough ground but on his jacket, which was spread beneath you. Darkened eyes met your panicked ones. This was much more than a kiss. Although you’d enjoyed that part of the exchange, you weren’t sure you wanted more, “Rafe,” You whispered, your voice uncertain, as he moved his mouth from your lips to the sides of your mouth. Your mind raced, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of sensations. You pushed at his chest and felt you were pushing against a boulder. There would know way to get from underneath him, even if you tried, “Are… you gonna put a baby in me?”

He paused, lifting his head to look you in the eye and you had to remind yourself to breathe in that moment, “Jesus Christ. You’re something else, you know that?” Rafe grinned and some of your uncertainty went away. His reaction made the moment feel more lighthearted, like there wasn’t a boundary being crossed, like his intentions were innocent.

“I like the kissing,” You admitted, “It feels good b-but I’m scared–”

Rafe shushed you, peppering gentle kisses along your jawline, until he reached the side of your neck. Your thighs clenched tightly, your head tilted back, and you couldn’t control your moaning. Rafe spread your legs with his own, his jeans brushing against the smoothness of your thighs. He pressed his lower half into you and you felt something as hard as a rock, rubbing against your panties. It was then, your core started to feel like it was on fire.

“Don’t be scared, it’ll just hurt for a moment,” Rafe spoke against your skin, huskily, his voice almost sounding like he was in pain, “You’re just gonna lay still for me, I need you to help me to take care of something.”

“Hurt?” You questioned, your mind hanging on that word. Then you thought back to your question. He hadn’t really answered.

He seemed to ignore you again, his mouth moving lower on your body. He pulled your shirt down, and as your breasts spilled from their constraints, he left kisses on your nipples. Your head tilted back again when he took one of your nipples fully into his mouth, “Rafe,” You whispered but the sound of his name only seem to push him further. His fingers traced the edge of your panties before he slipped his fingers inside, brushing over your folds. You were wet down there, you realized, and mostly out of embarrassment, you started to pull away, “Please don’t touch me there.”

You watched his pupils dilate as he stared down at you intently. He kept one hand in your underwear and wrapped his other around your throat, quickly, as if his body was reacting instinctively to your defiance.

“Don’t tell me that,” Rafe said, almost growling, and your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to push away his hand as you struggled to breathe, “I have to touch ya' here, darlin’. I’m gonna be your husband. This belongs to me, understand?”

Your eyes widened as he rubbed circles over your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked in reaction and you silenced your moans, knowing you only had so much air to breathe, “Say you understand. Say yes.”

You nodded your head quickly, “Yes,” You whispered.

You were grateful when he loosed his grip around your throat, “It’s a good thing you’re wet. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just means this is what your body wants, baby. You already want to make me happy.”

You weren’t quite sure at what moment your body decided to freeze. Your nerves were overwhelmed, of course, and it seemed like you’d come out less scathed from the situation if you did as Rafe said. You could stay still and take it. There was something happening with Rafe you didn’t understand but he was acting as though he needed something and you were only one who could provide it. You could stay still and take it if it would make him happy, right? It’s a good thing to make other people happy.

You focused on the kisses on your lips, the way his soft mouth moved methodically over yours. The faint jangle of metal pulled you back to the moment, a sound you barely registered until you felt the press of something impossibly hard, slowly pushing against a place you hadn’t realized could take him. His manhood, you assumed, what made him different from you. It hurt like he said it would but not for just a moment. Were all manhoods this size? This is what your body really wants?

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the edge of strain. His hand brushed over your trembling thigh, steadying you as your body tried to accommodate him. “You’re okay. I promise.”

He started to rock into you once you felt completely full to the brim. Initially, it felt even worse than him pushing all the way inside you. Tears fell and your breath grew rapid, “It hurts,” You whimpered, “It really hurts.”

“It’s okay,” He said, maintaining his pace, “You’re okay, darlin’. You’re doing great. It’s just your first time. Gotta get used to me, that's all.”

“Are-are you putting a baby in me, Rafe?” You asked, your voice an innocent whisper. His grip on you tightened as his rhythm grew more deliberate, his words spilling out in a low growl.

“Fuck yes, darlin’,” he said, his voice thick with unrestrained desire. “I’m gonna put a baby in you.”

His hands, his words, the pain between your legs that was slowly turning to pleasure, it made you dizzy, and you couldn’t keep track of your thoughts. You belonged to him? A baby? It didn’t make sense, but part of you felt comforted by the intensity of him. You trusted he knew more. Everything’s okay. You were okay. It felt like something you were supposed to be, so you let go and let him have you.

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

#rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #dark fic #rafe fic #rafe obx #obx rafe cameron #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #sarah cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader

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leclerc-hs · 4 months ago

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save a bull! - cl16

pairing: bull rider!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which a city girl meets a cowboy OR charles finds himself infatuated with the visiting city girl warnings: language, NOT PROOFREAD, no smut (maybe in part 2 if y'all want smut), bad writing (sorry lol) word count: ~4.4k author's note: HI. did you miss me? i sure as FUCK missed y'all. so I started writing this MONTHS ago but then took a very long break from this website and writing. it might be very shitty so i apologize for that. it was originally going to be just 1 part but I found myself writing so much that I think 2 parts will be better in the end. PLEASE REACH OUT TO ME WITH ANY FEEDBACK. sorry if this sucks. love you all.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Will you please just consider it!” Abigail pleads beside you on the sidewalk, weaving through the bustling crowd with an effortless grace. The sun casts dappled shadows on the pavement, and the scent of street food mingles with the crisp urban air.

The city feels particularly relentless as you trudge along the crowded sidewalk, your third cup of coffee from the corner deli clutched in one hand, its steam mingling with the bustling street air. Your shoulders droop under the weight of fatigue, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the city around you. Each step towards your office tower feels heavier, as though the concrete beneath your feet has turned to lead.

The tall buildings loom overhead, their steel and glass facades glinting under the midday sun, but their gleam only seems to amplify the oppressive weight of your exhaustion. The vibrant hum of the city—a symphony of honking taxis, chattering pedestrians, and distant sirens—becomes a monotonous drone.

Your dress, once crisp and sharp, now feels more like a burden, its fabric slightly rumpled from a day spent at your desk.

“I can’t take that much time off of work,” You say, your voice tinged with frustration but softened by a hint of regret. You’re caught in that all-too-familiar tug of war between professional obligations and personal desires. You finally get the chance to turn your head to look at Abigail as you reach a crosswalk, blinking not to cross. You see the disappointment flicker in your friend’s eyes.

“I get it,” Abigail says, her voice steady and tinged with understanding, “I know how demanding your job is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t work from home. Or take personal time. I know you have that option.”

You chuckle softly, admiring her persistence to some degree. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“When is the last time you even took a personal day.”

The answer was never. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Will you stop begging me every second of every day if I say yes?” You ask, half in jest but with a trace of genuine curiosity.

“Obviously,” she replies, her smile widening as she sees the shift in your stance.

The pedestrian light turns green, and as you start to cross the street, you take a deep breath, blinking to steady your thoughts. “Fine.”

Abigail’s face lights up with a victorious grin, her eyes sparkling with triumph. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Nestled amidst rolling green hills and expansive grasslands, Abigail’s small family farm is a picturesque retreat. The scene unfolds like a charming pastoral painting, with vibrant hues of green and wheat fields stretching out as far as the eye can see, interspersed with splashes of color from blooming wildflowers.

At the heart of the farm stands a quaint, cozy house, its charm amplified by a wraparound porch adorned with potted flowers. The house itself is a delightful mix of rustic and charming, with its whitewashed clapboard siding, and a steeply pitched roof.

Adjacent to the house, a well-tended vegetable garden thrives, it’s neat rows of tomatoes, lettuce, and peppers bordered by a low wooden fence. A couple of well-worn garden tools lean against a small shed nearby, evidence of the daily care given.

Further out, a classic red barn structure where a white trimmed roof sits atop. The sounds of clucking hens and the occasional bray of donkey create a lively atmosphere. Near the barn, sits a small paddock with a couple of playful horses, their sleek coats gleaming in the sunlight.

The fresh air of the farm is almost a sensory overload compared to the city’s fumes. Unlike the city’s dense cocktail of exhaust fumes, asphalt, and various street food vendors, the farm air is pure.

As you sit at the kitchen table, the warmth of the farmhouse envelops you. The rustic charm of the kitchen, with its large wooden table and mismatched chairs, is filled with the sounds of cheerful conversation and shared laughter.

Abigail stands at the center of the room, animatedly catches her family up on the latest happenings in her city life. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, her gestures lively and expressive. The tales of the city hustle almost seem foreign in this serene setting.

Danny and Luke, her two older brothers, sit across from you at the table. Danny, with his sandy blond hair and easy-going demeanor, leans back in his chair, his face lit up with a relaxed smile. He listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with teasing remarks or playful banter. His presence is warm and reassuring. His wife, Gianna, sits beside him with a small baby boy on her lap.

Luke, on the other hand, exudes a quiet strength. His dark hair is neatly tousled, and his gaze is both thoughtful and amused. His demeanor calm yet engaged.

“It’s so nice to finally meet the girl who makes our Abigail so happy in the city,” Abigail’s mother continues, her voice carrying a note of heartfelt sincerity. “She’s always spoken so highly of you.”

You feel a flush of warmth at the compliment, a mix of gratitude and slight nervousness at the attention all on you.

“Thank you so much for having me,” You smile softly. “I don’t know what I would do without Abigail in my life.”

With a playful glint in Danny’s eye, he chimes in, “I do.”

The room erupts in a chorus of laughter, the sound ringing out with genuine warmth and affection.

You decided right there you may just like it here a lot more than you thought.

The silk dress that adorned your body was utterly unsuitable for the rugged rodeo environment, but you didn’t really care. The delicate fabric, with its soft sheen and flowing lines, clashed vividly with the dusty, rough-and-tumble atmosphere of the rodeo.

As you moved through the arena, the contrast became more pronounced. The silk, while beautiful, struggled against the elements—dust from the arena settling onto the fabric, and the occasional splash of beer threatening to leave their mark. The sight of your delicate dress among the crowd of rugged cowboys and cowgirls in their jeans, boots, and plaid shirts drew curious glances.

But you didn’t care. You liked your clothes, the luxurious feel of the silk against your skin, the way it draped with effortless grace. The expensive fabric was a statement of your personal taste, and you embraced it fully, regardless of the setting.

“You could’ve borrowed some jeans, you know?” Abigail chirps beside you, her jeans mostly ripped and worn matched well with her cowboy boots.

You shrug your shoulders in a noncommittal way. “I’m going to head to the bathroom before this starts. Grab me a drink?”

“Duh. See you at the seats?” Abigail laughs before sauntering off towards a beer vendor.

You stand still for a moment, observing Abigail and her brothers joking around as they stroll across the lively rodeo grounds. You can’t help but smile at their playful banter, you didn’t have growing up.

As you watch, lost in the charm of the moment, a rough shoulder unexpectedly collides with yours. The sudden contact jolts you out of your reverie, and you turn to see a burly cowboy in worn jeans and a dusty plaid shirt.

You swore he was one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life until he opened his big fat mouth.

“You lost?” He laughs, his green eyes bright and mischievous as he adjusts the hat on his head.

“Excuse me?” You reply, a mix of confusion and irritation threading through your voice.

“The city is a long way from here,” He drawls, the smirk on his lips widening with a hint of amusement.

The combination of his cheeky grin , the twinkle in his eye, and the dismissive tone ignites a flicker of anger within you. It feels like a mix of condescension and teasing that sends a sharp heat coursing through your veins. You roll your eyes, unable to hide your annoyance.

“Thanks for the information, jackass,” You snap, shoving past him with a forceful nudge. You march away with purpose, the silk of your dress swishing around your legs with each determined step.

Unbeknownst to you, as you walk away, he can’t help but turn his head to watch the sway of your hips in the thin, delicate fabric. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than necessary, a mixture of surprise and lingering admiration in his eyes as he takes in your retreating figure.

A hand lands firmly on his shoulder, and a voice calls out, “C’mon Charles, you need to get changed.” The words cut through his moment of distraction.

With a slight jolt, he snaps back to reality and glances over, meeting the eyes of his friend who is already gesturing towards the changing area. Reluctantly, he shifts his focus and starts to follow, his gaze now shifting into a more focused, practical demeanor.

Finally settled into your seat, far too close to the metal fence for your liking, and smothered between Abigail and Luke, you feel yourself relax as Luke places a tall boy can of beer in your hand, the wet condensation soaking your hand.

“Hope you can handle a beer,” Luke states, a smile on his lips. “It’s all they had left.”

You bring the can of beer to your lips slowly, savoring the crisp, cool sensation as you take a smooth sip. With a playful glint in your eye, you send a wink in Luke’s direction. “I promise I can handle a beer,” you say with a teasing smile.

Luke’s eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement, and he lets out a hearty chuckle. He lifts his own beer in a casual salute, the gesture accompanied by a nod of approval. As he takes a sip, the cool amber liquid reflecting the warm light of the evening, he meets your gaze with a grin that mirrors your playful confidence.

“So how does this work?” You ask, turning your full attention to Luke while Abigail and Danny are engrossed in their own conversation on the other side of you.

Luke raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “How does what work?”

You gesture broadly with your hands, waving them in animated circles as you take in the bustling rodeo arena before you. “This,” you say, trying to encompass the entire scene with your sweeping motions.

As if gaining a sense of clarity, the corners of Luke’s lips tug upward. “Why don’t you just watch and find out? It’s about to start.”

You turn your head back to the dirt ring, feeling the adrenaline of the moment as you witness a big brown bull in the chute. Its snorts are visible through the gaps in the metal fences, each exhalation a cloud of steam in the crisp air.

A handsome cowboy, his broad shoulders accentuated by a fitted vest, mounts the bull with practiced ease. He glances up with a confident, almost cocky grin that makes your heart race even faster. Your gaze follows every move he makes, captivated by the way he balances on the bull’s massive back as the gate swings open.

The bull bursts into action, hooves flying and muscles rippling as it twists and bucks in an attempt to throw the rider off. The scene is a whirlwind of motion and raw power—an exhilarating display of skill and bravery. It’s almost surreal, the sheer intensity of the bull’s movements and the cowboy’s unflinching composure.

As the bull spins in tight circle, you glance over to the timer mounted on the fence. The seconds tick away, each moment bringing the eight-second mark closer. When the buzzer finally sounds, signaling the end of the ride, the cowboy springs off the bull with an effortless grace. He tosses a hand in the air, his expression nonchalant as if the wild ride was nothing more than a casual stroll.

The crowd erupts in cheers and applause, their excitement palpable as they all stand up with shouts.

You turn your head back towards Luke, one of the biggest smiles on your face as you meet his eyes in pure astonishment.

“How about it?” Luke chimes in, taking yet another chug of his beer.

“This is insane!” You take another sip as well.

Charles lived for bull riding. It was more than just a passion—it was his livelihood. The cowboy lifestyle, with its raw, untamed essence, had shaped almost every aspect of his existence.

To him, the bull was not just an animal but a formidable partner in a high-stakes dance of power and control. Two things Charles always loved to have. Every successful ride was a testament to his skill and courage, a dance with danger that left him both exhilarated and humbled. Like this ride. Right now.

He throws his hand in the air, the rush of pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. The feel of the dirt beneath his boots, the deafening roar of the crowd, and an impressive score of 91, was enough to send him shouting in joy. He let his eyes wander the crowd around him, taking it all in like he always loves to do. He livesfor the attention.

So, when he notices a familiar woman seated right before the metal fence, paying little to no attention to the dirt ring, he can’t help but feel just a little annoyed.

He also can’t help but feel more annoyed when he takes notice of that silk fabric again, immediately remembering when he bumped into your frame mere moments ago. Your cherry lips and silky-smooth hair flash into his mind. For a second, he almost forgets the fact that he’s standing in the middle of a dirt ring.

He can’t quite shake the memory of your demeanor and the way you seemed detached from the rodeo’s thrilling chaos. The way you could care less about who he was. It’s a curious juxtaposition against the fervor of the crowd and the adrenaline that still courses through him.

One thing about Charles was that he wanted attention, yes. But right now, he only wanted yours. With that unshakable desire in mind, he strides confidently toward where you’re seated. The metal fences between you both form a barrier, but that doesn’t deter him.

As he approaches, the crowd senses a shift in the energy and falls into an anticipatory hush. Their collective gaze shifts to you and Charles, creating a palpable focus on the interaction.

Charles, his presence commanding and confident, slips his hat through the gap in the metal fence, offering it to you with a smirk. The hat, wide brimmed and well worn, represents a piece of his world.

“To help you fit in better.” His tone a mix of challenge and amusement.

Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and finally saunters off, his gait relaxed yet purposeful.

“What just happened?” Abigail smacks your arm, the one not jolding the hat, as you walk side by side. Her brothers loom behind you, their presence adding to the charged atmosphere of the moment. “Why did Charles fucking Leclerc just give you, his hat?”

You glance at the hat, a bemused expression on your face. “That guy is a total dick is what just happened.”

Abigail’s eyes widen, her excitement barely contained. “What do you mean!” She practically shouts, her voice a mix of disbelief and thrill. “He’s like famous here. Every girl probably hates you right now.”

“Why?” You ask, genuinely puzzled.

“Are you blind?” Abigail’s voice now full sheer joy. “The dude is practically sex on fucking legs. And he’s one of the best bull riders around!”

You look back at the hat again, it suddenly feels heavier in the grasp of your fingertips. “Charles Leclerc is a big deal around here. And he just gave you, his hat. That’s a huge deal.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the slight flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Well, it doesn’t change the fact that he was a jackass earlier. But I guess it’s good to know he’s a big deal around here.”

Abigail bursts into laughter. “You really are something else.”

The narrow aisles of the tiny market, with their cramped and cluttered shelves, had you aimlessly strolling in circles. The items on your list—given to you by Abigail’s mom—seemed to elude your every turn. The overhead lights cast a harsh glare on the disorganized assortment of product, making it difficult to find what you needed. You stood there, your eyes narrowing in annoyance, at the crumpled list clutched in your hand.

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

The sound of the deep, velvety voice was enough to draw your attention away from the list. You turned to see Charles standing not even a few feet away, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against a shelf. His eyes, green as ever, created a swirl of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

Although you were known for your stubbornness, often digging your heels in even when it wasn’t your best interest, you had to admit you were out of your depth in the tiny market. There were no signs. No directory.

“Depends,” you reply, the hint of a playful challenge in your voice. Charles raises his eyebrows, a silent prompt for you to elaborate further.

“If you call me city girl even once,” you continue, your tone firm but light-hearted, “I’ll knock you right out.”

The challenge is met with a shit-eating grin, so wide on Charles’s face that it seems almost infectious. His cheeks stretch into an exuberant smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. And it takes him one step, and one stretch of his arm, to snag that grocery list right out of your dainty fingertips.

“You’re cute when you’re real mad, y’know?” He drawls, placing the groceries into the bed of the pick-up truck you borrowed from Abigail’s family.

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re right.” He says, placing the final bag into the truck and leaning against the frame of it with an arm propped up. “You’re just cute.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Charles doesn’t miss the subtle flush the tints the apples of your cheeks with a delicate shade of red. The reaction stirs a flutter in his chest, almost like an addiction that he never wants to stop.

You’re undeniably cute, with an effortlessly enchanting beauty that makes it difficult to look away. A magnetic pull that Charles just can’t shake. It’s almost as if he’s addicted to getting a reaction out of you.

It’s been days of settling into the rhythm of farm life—enjoying family dinners filmed with hearty laughter and home-cooked meals, gathering around late-night fires that crackle and warm against the cool night air, and rolling up your sleeves to help with daily chores.

Even had a few more run-in's with the famous bull riding man himself. He was sweet, but you couldn't help but feel at complete unease around him. Not in a bad way, but in a my heart won't stop pounding against my rib cage kind of way.

Like when he covered you in his flannel at the latest bonfire, taming the rising goosebumps along your body.

"I don't need this, y'know?"

"Sweetheart, you're cold. Just wear the damn thing."

Or when you bumped into him at one of the farmer's markets and it took no hesitation for him to grab all of your purchases out from under your arm.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doin?"

"Stealing my stuff"

His laugh shot butterflies right into your stomach. "You're something else, sweetheart."

You make a point to be as involved as possible, driven by the genuine desire to contribute and make a sense of responsibility.

“Should we hit up Rusty Spur’s tonight?” Abigail asks from beside you, her voice light and relaxed as she stands wrapped in a fluffy robe, freshly showered. She’s casually brushing her long, damp hair, the strands falling in soft waves around her shoulders.

“What’s Rusty Spur’s” you ask, leaning over the bathroom sink for a closer look as you apply your last coat of mascara, adding the finishing touch to your makeup.

“The bar,” she replies nonchalantly, her tone suggesting it’s a place she frequents often. “I think we need a night out.”

You glance at her through the mirror, a smile spreading across your face at the prospect of a night out.

“Yes.”

Rusty Spur’s was the kind of country bar that instantly feels like home, even if you’ve never been there before.

As you step inside, the scent of aged wood, spilled beer, and a hint of smoky warmth greets you. The place is packed.

The flimsy spaghetti straps of your short white dress dig into the skin of your shoulders, their delicate fabric offering little support. Despite its ethereal look, the dress feels unexpectedly snug against your skin. The soft white fabric sways with each step you take as you slip your body in between the crowds of people.

Abigail leads you to a cozy corner of the bar. Almost instantly, a bartender approaches, his familiarity with Abigail evident in the easy smile and warm greeting he offers.

You can’t help but notice just how easy on the eyes he is. He’s dressed, like almost every guy in this bar, in snug jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. His casual yet confident demeanor, coupled with the slight scruff on his beard and his easygoing smile, makes him stand out in the dimly lit bar.

Within the span of five minutes, a chilled, neck-bottled beer is placed gently into your hand. Taking in the view of the crowd, which is large but not overwhelmingly so, you scan the faces around you. As your gaze moves across the room, no one stands out as particularly familiar—until your eyes land on a table not too far away.

There, seated with a group of friends, is Charles. His presence is unmistakable. Even from a distance, he exudes a charismatic confidence, the kind that draws attention without even trying. He’s relaxed in his posture, laughing and engaging with his companions, the flannel from earlier now swapped for a casual shirt.

“Wanna dance?” Abigail chimes in your ear, her beer already half gone in the span of a minute.

It was almost as if Charles could feel your presence without even seeing you. The dim light of the bar cast flickering shadows. He leaned back against the worn leather of his chair, his senses heightened.

You found yourself completely immersed in the music, your body moving almost involuntary as your shoes glide smoothly across the weathered wooden floor. You’re not exactly sure when it happened, but your body eventually became pressed up against a random guy you’ve only just met on the dance floor. His presence both surprising and pleasant. He’s cute—definitely cute. His hands are gentle on your waist, guiding you through the steps with a natural rhythm.

He twirls you effortlessly around, guiding your movement with a deft touch that brings a burst of joy. As you complete the spin, you find yourself facing him once more, his eyes twinkling down at you.

With a playful flourish, he slips his cowboy hat onto your head. You can feel the subtle press of the brim against your forehead, much too big for your head. You tilt your head back and laugh, the sound a melodic blend of joy and unrestrained happiness woven into the music.

In this embrace, everything seems to align perfectly—the rhythm of the music, the warmth of the body, and the whimsical charm of the cowboy hat resting lightly atop your head.

“Do you want t-” The words began to leave the man’s lips, but they were abruptly cut off as a firm muscled arm shoved him away from your embrace. The unexpected force sent him stumbling back, surprise flashing across his face and yours.

The man recovered his footing, confusion turning into indignation as he glared at the one who interrupted. Charles. Meanwhile, you stood your ground, heart racing, caught between the thrill of the moment and unexpected clash.

If looks could kill.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Large fingers reach for the brim of the hat atop your head, snatching it right off before Charles shoves it back into the man’s chest. “Don’t ever put a hat on her head again.”

His voice was rough and terse, cutting through the ambient noise like a blade. “Let’s go,” He says, not giving the man or you a chance to react. In an instant, his fingers snake around your wrist, pulling you away from the dance floor and into the shadows of a secluded table ticked into the corner of the bar.

The abrupt shift caught you off guard, and your heart raced as he led you through the sea of bodies. The air between you was thick with unspoken words as he tucks you between him and the edge of the table. His grip on your wrist loosens, but his proximity is too close.

“What the hell was that?” Your senses heightened as your eyes locked onto his. The usual light green of his irises, often warm and inviting, was now obscured by a much darker hue, swirling with intensity and something primal.

His gaze was pointed, sharp, and unyielding. You sensed a storm brewing behind those darkened eyes, and the air around you crackled with anticipation.

“He put his hat on you, sweetheart.” You scoff almost instantly, bubbling anger simmers in your chest as you let out a soft laugh over the situation.

“Really?” You throw your head back for a mere second as the laugh pushes past your throat. “You shoved him over a hat?”

His eyes remain narrowed, the amusement that might have danced there moments ago, no longer present. “Do you even know what that means?” He presses, his voice low and intense as he leans into your ear, the weight of his words hanging between you.

“What a hat means?” Confusion flickers across your features. The question so out of place, and yet the gravity of his tone suggests otherwise.

Before you can grasp the implications, you felt his fingers sneak their way to you, warmth and firmness splayed along your waist. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through you, igniting the tension the crackled in the air. It was a possessive gesture.

His gaze never wavers, and the connection between you deepens.

“You wear that hat; you ride that cowboy.”

For a moment, you freeze.

“And in no fucking world, would I let you wear anyone’s but mine.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fic

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hometoursandotherstuff · 13 days ago

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I can't believe that I just found one of my all-time favorite houses still on the market. I love this 1889 Gothic Victorian in Milwaukee, WI. 3bds, 2.5ba, 2,869 sq ft, $415k. It's been so lovingly cared for w/just the right dash of funkiness. It's perfect. Take a look at it, if you haven't seen it before, you're gonna fall in love with it.

Aren't the entrance doors and porch grand? And, they're in such good condition. Look at the original light fixture.

Perfect original railings, stick floor, and a cheery peachy wall color.

The sitting room has a lovely corner fireplace and pocket doors.

Isn't this amazing? There are rotating windows up there on the next floor. What a great 2 story living room with a soaring fireplace. And, that's a curved arch ceiling, too, with a medieval chandelier.

I love that they kept the original floors. This room could be another sitting room or whatever. It would make a fabulous plant room or art studio.

I love what they did with the kitchen. Look at how adorable it is. They made the baker's rack out of pipes, and the island is an industrial salvage piece. You can also see the way they made a bathroom sink, on the left.

LOVE the mismatched cabinets and the worn counter.

Look at the industrial piece that they fitted the ovens into. How cool is that? My favorite thing is the lighting- See what they did? Every fixture is subtly different, yet matching. I love this house so much, I could cry.

This home is soooo creative. Look at the tall cabinet next to the fridge, made from 2 different ones. And, the stove top has a wood counter and shelf around it.

Back door to the yard.

Here's that vintage powder room off the kitchen. Such creative elements and a pocket door.

They made this table with what looks like bricks or wooden blocks and topped it with a piece of glass. The owners are so clever, and this is a lovely dining room.

Check out the primary bedroom suite.

I don't know if they knocked the wall down to make a bath, or if it was an alcove, but I love how they made it look industrial, like an old gothic factory.

On this floor, they have a separate apt. with a bedroom, laundry and kitchen.

Recognize the rotating window from down in the sitting room?

Look at this big bath. They sure made the bathrooms spacious.

There's a finished attic with another bath.

Nice clean basement has potential and the heating unit looks new.

Lovely fenced in patio and gardens.

There's also a side garden. It's a lot of house for under $450k.

4,791 sq ft lot and there's a nice park nearby. The new Zillow listing didn't show the photos that I recalled, but I found them.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3402-W-Saint-Paul-Ave-Milwaukee-WI-53208/40470662_zpid/

#gothic victorian homes #victorian homes #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour #homes under $450k

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guiltyasdave · 3 months ago

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the road not taken

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

tags/warnings: childhood friends trope, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, able bodied reader, reader has hair that she uses a hair dryer on, things that i don’t want to spoil but when i say angst i mean angst

a/n: remember how last year, i said that i’d only write happy endings for dave? yeah, about that…

thank you @sizzlingcloudmentality for beta reading, for encouraging me (through tears lol) and for just being the best of friends <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

Water cascades down on you, hot on your skin, soaking through your hair and collecting at your feet before it circles down the drain. You don’t know how long you’ve been standing here, staring at the glass fogging up around you.

It had been summertime when Dave moved in next door. You took your first glimpse at him with your nose almost pressed against your bedroom window. He opened the sleek silver car door, his mouth set in a firm line, the apprehension written all over his face as he looked up at the house. You had ducked out of sight when his eyes flickered over to your window, but when you took another peek, he was looking straight at you, a smirk playing around his mouth.

Your fingers massage over your scalp, spreading your shampoo’s soft foam, the fresh scent engulfing you. Your shoulders relax a little, sinking into the familiar feeling.

The first time you talked to each other, it was through the gaps in the fence separating your garden from his. Neither of you tall enough to reach over the wooden barrier, so all you could see was a glimpse of dark brown hair falling over even darker eyes, their gaze so much more pensive than you were used to from boys your age. Smarter, too. He made you laugh, made you curious to know more about him. You immediately wanted him to be your friend.

Your body wash’s scent joins in, suds gliding over your skin, cleansing you.

Over that summer break, there were only a handful of days when Dave wasn’t over at your house. It was new for you, to be around somebody so much, to not get bored of their presence after a short while. But Dave was different. He challenged you, never backed down from a discussion, riled you up just for the fun of it.

One evening, the day coming to a close, you were both sprawled out over your mattress, feet dangling off the edge. Golden light was spilling through the open window and painting shapes onto your wall, when he told you how his parents were fighting after moving here for his dad’s job, how he preferred being with you, away from the shouting and the following silence.

You made plans about running together, to a country far away, to become knights, or pirates maybe. Painting stories with your words, creating adventures that you would have together, each idea more exciting than the last.

The light was already gone, but none of you had moved to put on a lamp, so you were lying in the semi-darkness, your shoulders almost touching. His breath hitched before he quietly admitted that he was scared of going to a new school, of not knowing anyone.

“You know me,” you had replied, sliding your small hand into his, squeezing reassuringly.

“Yeah,” he had agreed, squeezing back.

You let the water wash everything away, until both your hair and your body are clean again.

Dave had fit in without issue, getting along with the other kids just fine, but you never strayed from each other. Side by side, from hopping on the bright yellow school bus in the morning until parting in the evening.

He was there to talk you into climbing trees much higher than you would have dared alone. He held you when you were sobbing after falling off your bike, both your hands and knees bloody and burning. He built his snowmen right next to yours on the lawn between your two houses. Always right there by your side, and you were right by his. Trading books back and forth, learning how to ride a skateboard when he did, opening your window for him and letting him crawl into bed with you when his parents were fighting in the evenings.

Your nerves flare up. Just a few more moments under the hot stream, just a few more moments of not needing to think.

You were both lazing on your parents’ sofa, your head in Dave’s lap and remains of a frozen pizza cooling on the coffee table. One of your favorite movies was playing on the TV, one that you had both seen so often that you could recite every line by heart.

“She’s pretty,” Dave said, eyes trained on the actress on the screen when you tilted your head to look up at him. His voice had become deeper this year, and from where you were laying, you could see hints of a stubble scattering his chin. “Like you,” he added, his gaze flickering down to your face.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks and your eyelashes fluttered as you giggled. Your hands found a throw pillow that you whacked against his arm, a “shut up” on your lips that came out way too breathy.

He laughed too, shrugging in that nonchalant way of his, as if to say ‘What? You are.’

Finally, you turn the water off and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself.

As you grew older, you noticed how other girls looked at Dave. More than once, you had been asked if the two of you were dating, had seen how relief painted their smiles to be more genuine when you assured them that you were ‘just friends’.

“Can you bring him to my birthday party, then? Please? He never comes when we invite him ourselves.” One girl from your biology class looked at you with big, hopeful eyes.

Your quiet nod was followed with an excited giggle, and as you watched her retreating figure, a sharp sting made itself known in your chest. You couldn’t imagine Dave liking someone, spending as much time with them as he did with you. Having hobbies, inside jokes that you weren’t part of. You didn’t want to imagine that.

Your hair dries slowly, as warm air whips around your head and you stare at yourself in the mirror. Finally, you can put it up, a hairdo similar to one Dave once told you he liked.

Still, you entered the house, filled with thumping music, flashing lights and drunk teenagers with Dave by your side. His eyes flickered over the scenery before he pulled you into his side by your arm, sending pinpricks of something through you.

You giddily accepted when someone handed you both a beer, clinked your bottle against his and eagerly took a swig. Your brow furrowed, lips pursed, before you broke out into a laugh to see a similar expression of distaste on Dave’s face. But you took another sip, and then another, until you felt strangely weightless and the world around you turned blurry.

It didn’t matter, because you were anchored to Dave’s face in front of you. Everything was funny, both of you dancing clumsily, laughing for no reason, until you were breathless, your skin damp with sweat.

You would have denied it at the time, but maybe the underwear you're putting on had been bought with Dave in mind. Not at the forefront, but he had always been there.

You were walking home together, faces illuminated by the glow of the streetlamps. Your hand had slipped into his and he held on tight, like you’d vanish into the darkness if he let go. It was nice, the warmth of his hand engulfing yours. Something you thought you could get used to.

“Did you even talk to Laura?” you wondered, the words coming out a little slurred. “She asked me to bring you, you know. I think she likes you.”

You weren’t sure what you wanted him to say, what you’d do if he liked her too.

Dave snorted, throwing an arm around you and pulling you close.

“No. And I only like you.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. I’m your best friend.”

A fingernail rips a hole into your tights as you pull them up your leg. You curse under your breath as you retrieve another one from your suitcase.

He took you to prom, the possibility of going with anyone else never even entering your minds. He had drunk you in as you descended down the stairs, before he took an exaggerated bow and grabbed your hand, pulling you out the door in a fit of laughter.

It would have been so easy, that night, when he danced with you. To take that one step closer, to just brush your lips against his. Quick enough to play it off as a mistake. But you never did.

A dress follows, ending just below your knees. The fabric is cool against your heated skin, calming your nerves a little.

Dave drove you to college, along endless strips of road, with the end still looming just beyond the horizon. He played the mixtape you had made together when you were sixteen. He sang along with you, smiled when he caught you stealing glances at him.

You never wanted to let go of him, hugged him to you for several minutes. Waiting, wishing for his warmth, his scent, to surround you until you were part of him, until you wouldn’t have to watch him leave.

He wiped the tears off your face, his fingertips tender against your skin, his own eyes shiny.

Doing your makeup is tough today. Your hands don’t stop shaking.

He didn’t call as often as he said, not that you expected him to. Military training was hard, and when you did talk to him, he sounded exhausted.

He wasn’t slipping away from you, not really, but you could tell that there were things he didn’t want to, couldn’t talk about. His voice turned colder, his answers clipped, not leaving room for questions.

You had a few boyfriends, guys from your classes. But none of them ever managed to make you feel less lonely. None ever felt like they really understood you. The way Dave used to.

Finally, you’re content with the face you see in the mirror. The bathroom turns dark as you flip the switch.

You both went home for Christmas, had you counting down the days for weeks every year.

He looked so different each time, his features sharper than you had ever seen them, a never fading tension in his jaw and his eyes stormy, the warmth that you had known all your childhood almost completely drained out.

Still, he held you like he used to, still smelling like him, like home.

I miss you, you wanted to scream every time you said your goodbyes again. I miss my best friend.

You put on heels, your steps muffled by the carpet.

He told you that he met someone late one evening years later, the telephone cord wrapped around your fingers, the plastic pressed against your ear.

You forced a smile that he couldn’t see, ignoring the searing pain in your chest, telling yourself that it was good that he had someone. He had never liked you like that, you were just a ghost from his past at this point. A monthly phone call, nostalgia tying you to each other more than anything else.

You attended their wedding, tried to see what Dave saw, tried to be happy that he was happy. You just couldn’t tell if he was. He smiled when he was supposed to, laughed at jokes, held his wife’s hand, danced with her, but there was a void of nothingness in his eyes.

Your mother’s words echoed through your mind, how often she had teased you about how the both of you would surely get married someday. Your twelve year old self had hated it.

But, apparently, hidden deep inside your heart, you had hoped too.

You slip your purse and phone into a handbag. There are several notifications as the screen lights up briefly, but you ignore them.

It was no use trying to picture the boy you used to know as a father, aligning your best friend Dave with this new version of him.

His voice had been ecstatic when he told you, more alive than he had sounded in years.

You had cried yourself to sleep that night.

After putting your coat on, the door falls shut behind you. Your steps echo through the stairwell.

Calls had become farther in between. You didn’t blame him. He had a whole life, a whole family.

Until your doorbell rang. Until he showed up on your doorstep, late at night, deep circles under his eyes, his hair a mess, his fingers twitching.

You ushered him inside, questions of ‘are you okay?’ and ‘are you hurt?’ on your lips. He caught your hands, fluttering over his face, his shoulders. His fingers rubbed over your skin, his warmth sinking in, a sensation that you had almost forgotten pulled back to the surface.

He cupped your face, searched your eyes as he slowly leaned closer, his lips almost touching yours. You reacted without thinking, your own lips finding his. A thing that you hadn’t realized you wanted until it was too late, and now it was happening, here in your hall, after you hadn’t spoken to him for months.

“Dave, what—”

He parted from you breathlessly, his hands dropping to his sides.

“I’m sorry.” One hand ran over his face, before his eyes locked on yours again. “I’ve been— I think I made a mistake. I don’t know if— I think something bad might happen.”

“What do you mean?” You had never seen him like this, so out of sorts, all his carefully built composure crumbling down.

A sad smile pulled at his mouth before he stepped closer again, his arms engulfing you, pressing you against his chest.

“I can’t say. But—” His lips moved against your hair, down to your neck, his breath hot on your skin. “I never told you. I always thought you deserved better, and now you never even knew—”

Understanding glimmered at the edges of your mind, giving his words a meaning that couldn’t be right.

“It’s been you,” he murmured into your skin, “it’s always been you.”

You pulled him back by the hair at his nape, messing it up further. His eyes were swimming with sadness, so much that you couldn’t bear it. Your lips connected with his again. Anything to take his pain away, anything to let him know.

“It’s always been you for me, too.” It was barely a breath, shared between the both of you.

“I have to do something. But I’ll come back to you, I promise.”

It’s raining as you walk to your car. You take a deep breath, sinking into the leather seat. It’s only a short drive to the cemetery.

It has echoed in your head every day since. The words he said, the look of grim determination on his face as he stepped outside again. One last squeeze of your hand, and then he was gone.

Putting your car into park, you step back out into the downpour, your shoes crunching on the short walk over gravel.

You spot Carol, tears streaking her face just like your own. Dressed in black, just like you. Two little girls clinging to her.

He didn’t come back.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are love <3

#dave york x reader #dave york #pedro pascal #dave york x you #dave york fanfiction #dave york x f!reader #dave york x female reader

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lazysoulwriter · 11 days ago

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Fences & Flowers. - Joel Miller.

Summary: (Y/N) moves to her late grandparents' farmhouse, seeking solace from the overwhelming pace of city life. Determined to transform the land into a flourishing farm, she is met with unexpected curiosity from her neighbor, Joel Miller. Their first encounter is anything but smooth, filled with teasing remarks and a palpable tension. But when Joel returns to make amends, their dynamic takes an unexpected turn—one that leaves them both questioning the sparks between them.

no outbreak.

The house stood at the heart of the land, a quiet, sprawling estate that had been in her family for generations. (Y/N) ran her fingers over the worn wooden railing of the porch, feeling the age of the place, the weight of its history. It was hers now. All of it—the fields stretching beyond the horizon, the small grove of trees lining the dirt path, the barn standing stubbornly against time.

She inhaled deeply, letting the scent of earth and open air settle into her lungs. This was why she came here. To escape. To breathe. To build something that was hers.

The transition hadn’t been easy. Life in the city had been suffocating, the constant noise, the endless pressure of expectations she no longer cared to meet. Here, she would set her own pace. Here, she would make her own rules.

Her first order of business had been tending to the few animals left under the care of an old farmhand who had loyally remained despite the years of vacancy. But today, she had something different in mind. The truck she’d driven up in still held boxes of belongings, but nestled among them were the delicate seedlings and flowers she’d brought with her. She wanted color. She wanted life.

Digging her hands into the rich soil, she let the earth crumble between her fingers before carefully pressing down around the base of a small cluster of lavender. It felt good to work with her hands.

She was so focused on the task that she didn’t notice the figure approaching until a shadow loomed over her.

“You know, that’s not how we do things around here.”

Her head snapped up, startled. The man standing in front of her was tall, broad, with streaks of gray running through his dark hair. His arms were crossed over his chest, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Excuse me?” she asked, wiping the dirt from her hands onto her jeans before standing up.

Joel Miller had seen plenty of newcomers in his time, but none quite like her. She was young—too young, maybe, to be taking on a farm this size alone. And she was beautiful. Not in the delicate, untouchable way, but in a way that made him pause, made something unfamiliar settle in his chest.

“I mean, fancy little plants like those don’t stand much of a chance out here,” he continued, nodding towards the flowers she was planting. “Might as well be settin’ up a tea party for the deer.”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “Well, lucky for me, I’m not taking farming advice from the first cowboy who wanders onto my land.”

Joel let out a short laugh. “Cowboy? Darlin’, I’m your neighbor.”

Her gaze flicked toward the fence line separating their properties. Of course. She’d seen his place in the distance, had noticed the way it was well-kept, the livestock thriving.

“Great. And my neighbor thinks I’m incompetent.”

“I didn’t say that,” Joel replied, the amusement in his voice not quite masking the interest beneath. “I just don’t see many city folks stickin’ around once they realize this ain’t all sunsets and slow mornings.”

She bristled. “I’m not from the city.”

“Really?” His tone was skeptical. “You just scream ‘never fixed a fence in your life.’”

She crossed her arms. “And you scream ‘grumpy old man with too many opinions.’”

That made him grin, a real one this time. “Fair enough.” He took a step back, nodding toward her work. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn ya when all them flowers disappear overnight.”

He turned, heading back toward his truck parked by the fence. (Y/N) exhaled sharply, watching him go. Asshole. A ridiculously handsome asshole, but still.

The next morning, she was back in the dirt, determined to finish planting, when she heard the familiar sound of boots approaching.

“Brought somethin’,” Joel announced.

She looked up, eyes narrowing as she spotted him holding out a small roll of wire.

“What’s this?”

“Fencing. For your flowers,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Figured I’d save you the heartbreak.”

(Y/N) stared at him, caught somewhere between annoyance and… something else. He had that same easy smirk, but there was an almost shy quality to the way he scratched the back of his neck, as if uncomfortable with the act of offering help.

She took the roll from his hands, her fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. A warmth spread through her, unexpected and uninvited.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

Joel didn’t move. He glanced down at her, at the dirt smudges on her cheeks, the way her hair was falling from the loose ponytail she’d tied up in a hurry.

“Why flowers?” he asked suddenly.

(Y/N) blinked at him. “What?”

“You’re startin’ a farm, right?” He motioned toward the land behind her. “Why go through all this trouble for somethin’ that ain’t gonna feed you?”

She looked at the lavender, the small pops of color in the rich soil. “Because it makes me happy.”

Joel didn’t have a response to that. Instead, he let his gaze linger on her face a second too long, his weight shifting slightly forward.

For a fleeting moment, it felt like something was pulling them closer, like the distance between them wasn’t distance at all.

His eyes flickered to her lips.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was, of the way the air between them had thickened. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

And then—

He cleared his throat, stepping back like he’d just caught himself doing something stupid.

“Well,” he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Don’t let me keep you from your… flowers.”

(Y/N) exhaled, forcing a nod, as if that moment hadn’t just changed something between them.

“See you around, cowboy.”

Joel scoffed but didn’t correct her this time. Instead, he shot her one last glance before turning away, his hands shoved into his pockets.

She watched him go, fingers tightening around the fencing wire in her hands, pulse still unsteady.

Oh, she was in trouble.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagines #joel miller scenarios #joel miller sceries #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagines

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sylusjinwoon · 9 months ago

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{ 168 }

the only exception.

yandere!jinwoo sung x fem.reader

disclaimers: i do not condone such behaviors in real life; read at your own caution; contains obsessive and possessive behavior.

whenever the news and gossip magazines chose to focus on the life of south korea's latest s-rank hunter, they would more often than not see sung jinwoo being so close to cha hae-in. there was a kindness in his gaze whenever the beautiful blond woman was settled right next to him, and he remained the ever so perfect gentleman when it came to how he treated hae-in.

and when their dating status had been confirmed, the world went wild for their relationship! paparazzi would discreetly follow them to each of their outings, the cameras catching them in their most pristine moments...

from holding hands while exiting the theaters together;

to late night walks spent on the beach;

and even the hundreds of kisses they shared after the completion of each raid they had went on together.

truly, jinwoo and hae-in's love story was something that was well known across the entirety of the world. there wasn't a single doubt in anyone's mind that they would become each other's endgame-

that is... until you arrived.

{ ... }

you kept pulling at the collar of your blouse, feeling as though the stiffness of your newly bought clothes was a bit too stifling for you-

or maybe you were just nervous about your new transfer to the korean hunter's association branch. apparently, news of your skills as a healer had caught the interest of one of the most well known branches of the hunter's association. and despite being on the fence about leaving the comfort of your country, just seeing the amount of money they had offered you was more than enough to make you reconsider.

before your transfer, you had taken some time to learn a bit of the language, just in case. despite how you knew that the chairman could speak fluently in various languages (including yours) you still wished to do your part and at least make an attempt to speak korean.

while approaching the chairman's office, you smoothed out the fabric of your skirt and blouse once more, ready to knock on the chairman's door had it not already been splayed open for you.

grateful that your reflexes were fast enough, you managed to take a step back, avoiding getting your face smashed in by the wooden doors. with a surprised gaze, you saw standing in front of you was a tall man who appeared to be around your age. his eyes go wide as a gentle, blue glow seemed to shine against them.

his full lips were parted, and his eyebrows were furrowed in response as he kept staring at you; not even blinking once as his eyes kept on trailing down your form. the more he kept looking at you, the more his soft, ebony locks of hair seemed to fall across his face, further covering his eyes.

for what seemed like an eternity, you and the tall man remained in that position. while you were caught up on why he looked so familiar, a sudden lightbulb went up in your head.

he's the super strong hunter that's dating that blond woman, hunter cha?

sung jinwoo. his name finally comes back to you.

he looks back up at you, eyes becoming even wider for the briefest moment as you let out a gasp.

fuck, did i say his name out loud? the urge to apologize to him was felt coursing through your veins as you gave jinwoo a polite bow.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say your name so casually. uhm..." you introduce yourself to him, letting him know how you were a new transfer in as much korean that you could manage.

once you finish, it appeared as though there were a shift in jinwoo's demeanor. instead of staring at you with a look of faint interest, there seemed to be a dreamy expression taking over his features. he tests your name out a few times before looking away from you-

with a prominent blush seen settled against his cheeks.

"would you like to join me for dinner?" jinwoo asks you in a flurry of words, making you take yet another step back.

did i hear him wrong?

a pout was seen against jinwoo's face when you didn't answer him, making him ask again, this time in english (a somewhat universally known language), "you and me, dinner?"

"oh, no, i'm sorry!" you quickly held up your hands in hopes of mitigating the tension you felt in the air, "i can't tonight because i have a meeting with the chairman..." your face felt hot, wondering why this was even happening.

jinwoo's shoulders seemed to slump just the tiniest bit in response, with his lips pursed. a sudden movement from your periphery catches your attention, and you trail your eyes down to see what it was, finally noticing the way jinwoo had his fists clenched in response.

a hearty voice calling out your name was what ultimately saves you from this awkward situation, standing up straight as chairman go gunhee greets you, "i was wondering what was taking you so long, but seeing hunter sung jinwoo means that you two must have just met, right?"

"sorry, i'll go now." jinwoo finally leaves just then, but not before suddenly bumping his shoulders against yours. a cold sensation was felt coursing through you, making goosebumps appear all across your skin as you had to fight back the urge to shiver.

jinwoo's presence was just so... overbearing at times. you could feel the darkness exuding from his form in absolute waves, making you feel intimidated by him at first...

but after his sudden question about asking you out to dinner, you were left a bit more confused than intimidated.

only when jinwoo leaves did the chairman place a comforting hand on your shoulder, smiling down at you with words of reassurance. "hunter sung can be a bit intimidating, but he's a good man that means well."

you nod your head in agreement with the chairman, following him into his office, completely forgetting about your strange encounter with jinwoo, remaining blissfully unaware of the strange pairs of glowing, purple eyes that were now hidden beneath your shadow.

{ … }

you had been filled in about the association’s current policy when it came to healers working here. these terms were simple, but had one golden rule that had to be followed:

healers were not allowed to join a guild or form a contract with any guilds; they are meant to serve the association as a whole and go on various raids to help hunters on the field. and because you were evaluated as being an a-rank healer, it was vital that you were kept on call and had to prepare for any raids that were to come.

of course, such a policy remained the same from your own country as well, so you were happy about this fact and saw no issues with following the rules.

as you were escorted out of the building, you let out a happy sigh, taking in the fresh air the night had brought you before making your way back home. as you pass by the citizens that went on with their day, none of them seemed to pay any attention to you, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

which caused you to think back to jinwoo and the general… oddities seen in his behavior.

why did he ask you out when the whole world knew of his relationship with hunter cha hae-in?

as you kept mulling your interaction with him over and over again, you managed to come up with a rational answer…

surely, he had to have meant it in a more professional manner, right? jinwoo probably noticed how nervous you were and wanted to help with further welcoming you. yes, that was probably it.

feeling satisfied with your answer, you began to walk with a bit of a bounce in your step. as your figure got closer to a streetlight, it manages to lengthen your shadow as a sudden, ink-like movement was seen on the pavement.

your eyes go wide, making you look down to see what it was. as your eyes trail across the sidewalk, the only thing you could see was your own shadow growing from beneath the intensity of the light.

“perhaps i’m lacking sleep or something.”

doing your best to convince yourself that you were not losing your mind, you continue your trek home, still unaware of the glowing eyes that remained expertly hidden from beneath the depths of your shadow.

{ … }

to say sung jinwoo had developed an infatuation with you would be a complete understatement-

he was obsessed with you.

ever since you began working as the association’s latest healer (left in the wake of several other healers own retirement), jinwoo had followed along with your every raid.

a strange sense of pride fills him when he sees your face plastered against the news articles. the nation adored your tenacity and potency of your healing abilities, which boosted many hunters’ own confidence and morale with each raid.

and despite how proud jinwoo was for your growing popularity…

he also hated it.

he hated how you were surrounded with other men (and women) who constantly boasted about you and your abilities. seeing how so many people adored you filled jinwoo with a sudden urge to slash them all away from you-

but he held back such urges. after all, it was vital that he play his cards right and appear to be the same, normal hunter sung jinwoo-

a sung jinwoo from before he ever met you.

{ … }

you knew something was amiss when the chairman made a direct call to you on the day that was supposed to be your day off. no gates had appeared as of late, and you took this chance to take a much needed breather from everything.

so you spent the next thirty minutes heading back to the hunter's association building, feeling your anxiety and concern increase by a tenfold the moment chairman go had met with you right when you first entered the building.

"come, let's take a bit of a stroll away from such prying eyes."

the chairman places a gentle hand behind your back, leading you out of the building and back into the warm, afternoon air. you walk aimlessly beside him, wringing your hands together in response to how anxious you felt.

"what's wrong, sir? you seem... conflicted."

he chuckles while glancing down at you, "you're a sharp woman."

the chairman stops walking while staring blankly ahead, and it takes him several seconds to compose himself before he tells you, "ahjin guild wishes to recruit you."

the sudden revelation makes you stop dead in your tracks as well. "what? but that's impossible... you can't mean to tell me that you're considering it, sir?"

he shakes his head while letting out a sigh, "i said the exact same thing to hunter sung. but he would not budge. he truly is going all in, just to have you."

it had been months (a total of 6 months, to be exact) since the day you had first met him. you had not seen him during the various raids you had participated in, the memory of him being brought to the backburner of your mind-

and now, you come to find out that jinwoo wished to recruit you?

impossible.

"he says that if i will not allow you to join ahjin- if i am refusing to make an exception for you, then he will quit being a hunter."

chairman go's words succeeds in making your knees feel weak, nearly making you fall had it not been for the way his powerful arms were kept wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you steady.

"sir, y-you agreed to let him recruit me?"

a solemn expression was seen on the older man's face, giving you a slight nod before admitting to you, "i have made millions of loopholes for the sake of keeping jinwoo within his home country... as long as we have him on our side, then we shall always have the upper hand. i'm sorry."

your heart was pounding in your chest, filling you with a hint of despair, since you knew that there was no way that you could refuse now.

"a-and, when does hunter sung wish for me to start working for him at his guild?"

the chairman meets your gaze and answers, "he wishes for you to start first thing tomorrow morning."

{ ... }

the moment jinwoo received a call from the chairman, pretty much confirming you as the latest member of his guild, he was overjoyed, to say the least.

he had spent so much time paving a path for you; a path that would ultimately lead you to him.

now, all he had to do was tie up some loose ends.

jinwoo remained in his office, settled within the comfort of his guild when he could hear the tapping of someone's shoes echo across his floor. but his mind was too occupied to pay them any mind, holding his cup of instant coffee while staring blankly at the cityscape bathed beneath the light of the full moon.

in the next few seconds, his peace would be interrupted when a woman bursts through his office, panting heavily. he sees hae-in's features being reflected against the smooth pane of the window, and he gives her some semblance of his attention when he acknowledges her with a side glance.

"hunter cha, good evening. what brings you here?"

a sharp inhalation was heard coming from her, the woman's slender hands remaining clenched in response as her eyes began to flash gold. "you know why i'm here, jinwoo. just... just what has been going on with you?!"

"it's been months since we last spoke to each other, and... and every plan that we have made together has been cancelled by you so... so effortlessly."

jinwoo hums, putting down his cup of coffee before fully facing her. "i think you and i both know what's going on, cha hae-in."

angry tears were seen streaming down her face now, with her fists clenched in response. "i may understand it, but that doesn't mean that i'll accept it. we have been dating for nearly a year now, y-yet you're so eager to throw it all away!"

the shadow monarch folds his arms across his chest, left completely unfazed by hae-in's outbursts. "that's why i'm giving you a chance to save your pride; break up with me now and announce it in your next conference."

he watches as her nails dig into the palm of her hand, creating crescent shaped imprints from the sheer amount of pressure she had placed. "and if i refuse?"

the woman wasn't even given a chance to blink when jinwoo reaches her, summoning one of his daggers as he presses the tip of the blade close to her neck. a choked whimper was heard coming from her, and she watches with wide eyes when a droplet of blood manages to slide down the pale skin of her throat.

"you will do as i say, unless you really put such a low value on your life?" jinwoo sneers back at her, eyes glowing a dangerously violet hue.

it was in that moment that hae-in knew jinwoo had changed for the worse, seeing the tendrils of his dark love and obsession take over the entirety of his senses. all she could do was nod in agreement, promising jinwoo that she will make the announcement of their breakup the next day all while silently praying for the new woman jinwoo had fallen for...

{ ... }

[ FAMOUS AND POWERFUL HUNTER CHA HAE-IN JUST ANNOUNCES HER BREAKUP WITH FORMER BOYFRIEND AND FELLOW S-RANK HUNTER, SUNG JINWOO ]

the headlines that you read on your phone made you feel even dizzier as you made your way to ahjin guild's building, sending a wave of vertigo to course through you.

you were breathing heavily, leaning against one of the buildings as you fought back the urge to puke up your breakfast from this morning.

"relax... calm down, it's probably a coincidence. breakups happen all the time, and this time should be no different."

but was it really a coincidence? such timing seemed too... serendipitous. what were the chances that sung jinwoo would become single once more the day you were meant to join his guild?

not to mention, his strange desire for you to join in the first place...

fighting back the bitter taste within your mouth, you continue your trek towards jinwoo's building, ignoring the warning bells that went off from within the depths of your mind. even though your legs felt like lead with each step that you took, you push through and manage to arrive at ahjin's base of operations with a few minutes to spare.

the moment you step into the lobby, you were not expecting jinwoo to be standing directly in front of you, with you barely taking a step across the polished area when the president himself greets you.

he says your name (were you imagining the strange sense of yearning heard in his voice?) before placing a hand behind your back, "i'm so happy to see you again. it's been quite a while since our first meeting, and i intend to make up for it."

the sudden passion heard in jinwoo's voice catches you off guard even further, but you were given little time to react when he tightens his arms around you. a sudden shift was felt in the air as several, wisps of shadows began to surround you and jinwoo-

which left you a gaping mess when you found yourself in an unfamiliar room, surrounded with all the things that you loved.

from a bookshelf filled with your favorite novels and authors,

to various gaming consoles with a brand new laptop settled on a desk-

and the large, luxurious bed settled in the midst of it all-

your mind was struggling to keep up.

a new wave of nausea hits you as jinwoo wraps his arms around your front, bringing your back even closer to his chest as he practically presses you against him. he lets out a soft coo of your name, the tip of his nose felt brushing against your hair before he opens his mouth to gently tug at your ear with his teeth, lightly grazing at your skin.

"you have no idea how long i have waited for this moment, my darling love." a hint of insanity was heard within his voice, causing you to shiver when you tried to meet his gaze-

only to feel your blood turn ice cold at the mere sight of him.

his expression seemed to be in a haze with a prominent blush seen against his cheekbones. his mumblings were unclear to you, but the more you listened to him, the more you realized that such crazed mumblings were of your name alone.

"you’re mine mine mine mine... and if i even sense another breathing down your neck, i'll rip their hearts out."

his sudden admission makes you nearly slump down against the carpeted floors of the room, but jinwoo manages to keep you pressed against his chest. "oh, my darling girl, it's okay, it's okay... you won't need anyone else but me... and i'm going to take such good care of you. you're mine mine mine mine MINE... ah... sorry, i lost myself back there."

jinwoo's rich chuckle fills your ears, and you were still struggling to process everything when he carries you toward the bed decorated with blankets and sheets that went with your usual style. with a hum, he pulls back the blankets, getting into the plush bed with you still in his tight embrace.

after what seemed like an eternity, you manage to ask, "why... why are you like this?"

jinwoo continues to chuckle, further tightening his embrace around you, "well, what do you mean, sarang?"

you tremble and did your best to meet his gaze, "y-you were so loving when it came to hae-in... the perfect couple... you were the picture perfect lover, so why-"

"ah, that version of me is not the real version of me, my darling love." jinwoo interrupts you, admitting it with a sigh of relief. "in fact, it was quite stifling, pretending to bask in such minuscule emotions... one that does not even warrant to be defined as love-"

"oh no, what i felt for cha hae-in pales in comparison to what i feel for YOU. where all i felt was a lukewarm fondness for her, i feel a burning inferno for you."

jinwoo's breathing becomes heavier and more labored when he slowly unbuttons your blouse, lips latching hungrily onto your newly revealed skin as you cried out to him.

"b-but i don't understand... the love that i had seen between you and hae-in seemed so perfect, so why am i so different?"

jinwoo's teeth was lightly felt sinking into your skin, earning a gasp from you as the tears began to well up within your eyes, "well, if my darling must know, then i shall tell her."

jinwoo picks you up just then, allowing your frame to straddle his abdomen when his hands lovingly trace at your figure, "you just have a charm that i find irresistible, sarang. your scent and your appearance drew me into you, like a damn moth to a flame...! i can't help but feel as though the entirety of my existence is to serve and love you..."

he trails off just then, now leaning up to press another kiss against the shell of your ear before harshly whispering, "i'm not going to let anyone else have you. you are the one that evoked such changes in me... revealing my true self... allowing me to love you freely as the way that i have always been."

the severity of his confession was what ultimately sinks in, making you tremble in response. no words were able to escape from your parted lips when he spends the rest of his time littering your face with his possessive sweet kisses.

yet the moment he whispers the following words to you, you knew that your fate had been sealed from the moment sung jinwoo first laid eyes on you:

"you're the only exception... the only one that matters the most to me. everything that happened before you is meaningless now, and i hope that you're ready to take responsibility for all that you have done to me."

a.n. - whew, this was so much fun to write,,, and lowkey hot as well. like jinwoo, i accept you, darkness and allllll 😭😭😭😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #yandere x reader #.stories

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