#we unravelled a long time ago
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theon x sansa - 'we unravelled a long time ago' chapter 3
Sansa has some important news for Theon, but his return to Pyke is looming and neither want to fully admit how they truly feel. Arya, on the other hand, can sense Sansa is about to burst and intends to do something about it.
I'm in two minds about this one - some parts I like, other not so much!!
I definitely think I'm gonna write a Theon-centric chapter soon
as ever thank you for reading and a happy new year! x
also posted on ao3;
Theon knew it would happen eventually, he knew he would have to face it, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. His past always seemed to come running after him, he could never escape it.
Theon heard her before he saw her. “Theon. You’re alive, then.” Swaggering into the bedchambers, Theon watched his sister’s movements. Her hair looked shorter, and her eyes were angry. She didn’t look like much of a queen, not how Theon understood it. But that didn’t matter. She was inspecting the room, until her eyes fell upon Theon. They stayed there for a moment, as if she was playing through every moment they had once shared in her head. A small smile crept on her lips when she pulled a nearby stool over to his bedside. Her legs were sprawled out and she was leaning back, still eyeing up her brother.
Theon nodded, moving himself to sit up properly. He wasn’t technically in bed, only sitting on top of the bedclothes. The Maester had advised he start to familarise himself with moving around, and soon enough, he should try walking. Theon couldn’t think of anything worse. Not only would it be likely to be difficult, but it would also be another place for Theon to see Sansa. He couldn’t easily avoid her, and he was sure she would want to speak with him. She spent a lot of her time watching over the courtyard. Theon imagined it was a good place to be with her thoughts. But Theon didn’t want to put himself in certain situations. Not yet. “Yes, and Euron’s dead.”
Yara smiled at that, clearly relaying the moment she found out their uncle was killed. Theon wasn’t sure he felt the same way. He didn’t relish that fact, not in the way Yara did. He didn’t laugh at the thought of his uncle being slain, at the sight of his mangled body, the loss of breath. They were not the same, Theon had realized that. They were too different. But he was glad Euron was gone. “He is. Thank fuck for the gods.”
Theon watched his sister for a moment, the way her smile stayed etched across her face. Theon couldn’t remember a time he ever felt that elated. Not for a long time, not truly feeling happy. There was always another feeling that overwhelmed that. And Theon didn’t like it. He deserved it, but he didn’t enjoy it. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? You did what you came here to do. And have a good scar to prove it, I’m sure.” Yara didn’t want to hear Theon’s self-pity, she was tired of it. Theon knew this, he knew how Yara felt about him. She knew she didn’t truly understand the torment he felt every day, and she didn’t want to understand. She was different to him. She had been allowed to stay with their father, with their family, in their true home. Theon could never truly understand how that felt. Sometimes it felt as if they were too different. There were people who weren’t Ironborn, who understood Theon better, who had experienced the same things, who knew exactly how he was feeling. But that was not Yara. And going back to Pyke wasn’t going to change that.
Of course, there was one person in particular who could understand better than anyone. Sansa. But Sansa wasn’t sitting in front of Theon, it was Yara. And she could never understand him.
“I do. And it hurts.”
“Of course, it does.” Yara scoffed, as if what Theon was saying was so self-pitiful, so inconsequential. She didn’t mean it, Theon was sure. But that didn’t make it any easier. This was exactly how Yara was, how she had always been. Theon almost dying wasn’t going to change anything. He had disappointed her, he knew that. She may not admit it, but she had wanted him by her side, not running off to Winterfell, to the home of his captors.
“Are you going home?”
“I’ve only just got here but being surrounded by the Starks isn’t my idea of fun. He killed her; you know.”
Theon seriously doubted anything Jon had done in the past few weeks even came close to what Theon had done. Jon was honourable, he was good, and he was Ned Stark’s son. He hadn’t let anyone down, he hadn’t killed innocent people, and her certainly hadn’t committed the atrocities Theon had. Theon was sorry to hear what had happened to Jon, to know he could have fallen so low. And to leave Sansa as she was. But wasn’t that exactly what Theon was going to do? How was he so different from Jon? How could Yara sit there, thinking about Jon with such disgust? When she and her stupid, little brother were truly no different. “Jon’s a good man. Better than me.”
Yara ignored that comment, rolling her eyes. She had clearly heard enough about how good and honourable the Starks were. Theon thought the same himself not so long ago. But there was no point thinking that way, not anymore. “But yes, eventually I’ll go home.”
“As Queen.”
“As Queen. But we still need to decide what to do with you.”
“And who’s deciding?”
“Me, of course. But I’m sure the Lady of Winterfell will have something to say about her hero.”
“I’m not her hero,” Theon mumbled, not wanting to think about Sansa. He hated how Yara’s smile curled up, like she knew something Theon didn’t. He couldn’t think about Sansa, without feeling an immense wave of guilt and regret. He longed for her to visit his chambers, ached to be in her company, see her smile and laugh, to feel safe. But whenever he saw her, he didn’t know how to act. He didn’t know what to say to her, and he knew eventually, Yara would take him home. It was unlikely Theon would see Sansa again, not for a long time. Theon still couldn’t quite comprehend how that made him feel. The things he felt about Sansa…they were becoming stronger and stronger, travelling up to the surface and Theon couldn’t ignore them for much longer.
Yara sighed, shaking her head. “If you say so.” She clearly didn’t believe him, but it seemed futile to try to argue. She couldn’t care less about the Stark girl. “Get some rest, Theon. You deserve it.”
Rest. All Theon had done for weeks was rest. He had laid in that bed for so many nights, waiting and longing. He couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t need to. Soon, his body would be healed. Soon, he’d be walking around like nothing happened, like nothing had changed. That was wrong, of course, everything had changed. And yet, he was going to end up exactly where he started. Stuck on Pyke. How wonderful.
*
Theon was sure Sansa had watched Yara leave his bedchambers. It could only have been a few minutes that passed before Theon was visited by the Lady of Winterfell. Theon wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that. There was a little voice in the back of his head, that voice kept whispering things that couldn’t possibly be true. Things that were not true. Theon wasn’t fool enough to believe them. But Sansa had seemingly just missed Yara as she walked down the corridor to Theon’s chambers. She knew Yara was speaking with him, informing him of what had happened. And Sansa had waited until the two Greyjoy siblings were finished. She clearly didn’t want to intrude and wanted to speak to Theon alone, without anyone else there.
Theon watched Sansa closely as she made her way across to occupy the stool Yara had placed in front of the bed. She gave him a quick smile when she greeted him, but Theon could sense there was something on her mind. She hadn’t just come to visit Theon on a whim, or because she wanted to be in his company. Oh, no, she came with a purpose. There was a reason for her visit, and clearly, it was not something Sansa wanted to do. She wouldn’t be there otherwise; she had far more important things to worry about, to deal with. Theon…he was not important. Not to Sansa. And yet, she was too important for him. She filled his brain, even when he didn’t want her to.
“Theon.”
“Sansa, is everything alright?”
“Yes,” Sansa answered, rather abruptly. “It’s...urm, it’s been decided. You’re to stay here, at Winterfell, until you’ve fully recovered. And not a day before. After that...” Sansa trailed off, blinking rapidly, and trying to look anywhere that wasn’t Theon. Her hands were placed in her lap. but she kept twiddling them between each other, as if she just couldn’t stop herself fidgeting. Why was she acting that way? What was going through her mind?
“Yes?”
Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, before turning back to Theon. “Well, you’ll go home. With your sister, your Queen.” Sansa’s eyes found Theon’s and they locked on with them. Whilst his were filled with disappointment, anguish, and anger, hers were filled with guilt, regret, and sadness. Theon knew this was what was going to happen. But he couldn’t help a small part of himself thinking he could stay in Winterfell. Thinking he could finally be able to make the decision that he wanted.
“I see,” Theon paused, taking a breath to consider what he would day next. “Alright.” Any thoughts of how he felt about Sansa instantly disappeared. His feelings didn’t matter, they truly didn’t. He didn’t quite understand them himself. But those confusing, strange feelings couldn’t be voiced, couldn’t be acted on. Theon was going to Pyke, whether he wanted to or not. He had no real choice in that. It was what Yara wanted. And Sansa…Theon did not know what Sansa wanted; he couldn’t understand her.
“There’s something else.” Sansa’s soft voice interrupted Theon’s thoughts. Again, he couldn’t read her, not at all. Her eyes glazed over, the burning candle by the edge of the bedside table flickered, matching the auburn colour of Sansa’s hair. She seemed to allow herself to glance over to Theon every so often, as if she didn’t want him to notice. He did, of course. But he couldn’t make sense of why she was acting in such a way.
“What is it?”
“Jon’s gone. Arya too, although I suspect not for long. She comes and goes now. Bran is...Bran. I’m the only Stark left at Winterfell.”
“There must always be a Stark at Winterfell, isn’t that what your father used to say?” The Stark words, or at least one of them. They seemed to have so many. Winter is Coming. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. The North Remembers. Theon remembered when he was younger, having only been the Stark’s ward for a few moons, he learned of the importance of the Starks and their words. Ned Stark was heralded as this honourable man, just, true, fair and loyal. Not at all how his father had presented him to be. Theon wasn’t so sure either version was entirely true. How can a man who takes a child from their home? Who forces them to live among their enemies? But Ned Stark was not a bad man. Theon knew what bad men looked like. He saw one whenever he looked upon the looking glass, his own reflection staring right at him. Those gaunt eyes, the twisted curls, the tremor of his lip. But regardless of how Theon felt, about himself or the Starks, their words seemed to have so much power, especially in the North.
“Yes. But...the North is an independent kingdom now. And with Jon gone...” Thinking about Jon hurt Sansa. They all had made mistakes, but Jon was paying for them. Leaving her alone in Winterfell.
Being Lady of Winterfell was something Sansa had become accustomed to. She understood the importance of the position, having watched her mother until she had left for King’s Landing. It was true that her head was filled with fairy tales, a type of life that did not exist. But Sansa wasn’t completely ignorant of the world around them, no matter how much her younger sister protested she was. She had learned a lot when Jon had left for Dragonstone, she had been truly tested as Lady of Winterfell, of the North. But being Queen? That was something different. Something Sansa was not sure of.
Theon finally realized what Sansa was getting at. “Not Lady Sansa, Queen Sansa?”
“Yes.” Sansa merely nodded, her facial expression staying frozen.
“I see.”
“It’s what I always wanted, to be Queen.” Sansa sounded bitter when she spoke those words. How foolish a girl she once was. Only caring about the beautiful dresses that she would wear, marrying her prince, carrying his babies, and living in a big castle, far away from Winterfell. How wrong she was. She couldn’t have been wrong if she had tried.
“And now you have it. I’m sure you’ll be a great Queen.” Theon only realised how flat his voice sounded as if he couldn’t care less about Sansa’s new position. That, of course, wasn’t true. He did care. Very much. This was a big change for Sansa, though he knew she could do it as easily as anything. Sansa seemed to always pick up things so quickly, so effortlessly. It was something he admired about her. One of the many things.
“I hope so, but I should go, there’s much work to be done.”
“Of course.”
Sansa left not long after, citing her busy schedule as a reason. Theon felt hollow once he was alone again. It was strange. Something felt off, Sansa felt different, as if she was harbouring some feelings that she would not let escape. She would not let Theon see them, not even get a glimpse of them. Theon didn’t know whether he wanted to know what those feelings were. He couldn’t think of his own, let alone Sansa’s. But it was the uncertainty Theon felt that made him uneasy. And he didn’t like it.
*
The next time Sansa was faced with a Greyjoy, it unfortunately wasn’t as pleasant. Sansa wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about Yara Greyjoy. She seemed extremely angry and agitated all of the time, particularly now she was in Winterfell. A permanent scowl could be seen on her face, and she spent most of her time outside of the castle grounds. Sansa knew exactly where she was going every night. But Sansa knew that wasn’t important, she had to put that behind her. Yara Greyjoy was here, and it looked like she was here to stay, at least for as long as Theon would. That wasn’t an enjoyable thought for Sansa, but she would rise above it. She would do what her mother would have done, her father. She was Queen now. And Queen’s had to act a certain way.
“Your Grace.” Sansa bowed her head towards the Ironborn Queen, forcing herself to smile. She knew the woman beside her could see through the niceties, but she may as well keep up appearances, for the sake of both families.
“Lady Sansa,” Sansa noted how the Greyjoy gritted her teeth as she spoke Sansa’s title. She wasn’t particularly pleased with the current predicament, but unlike most of her family, she had learned how to keep her true feelings close to her chest. But some of those feelings, feelings about certain people, they didn’t want to stay hidden. Not anymore. They would creep out eventually and change everything.
“Shall we walk?” Yara didn’t answer but followed Sansa regardless. Sansa knew this was going to be an uncomfortable conversation, she knew exactly how Yara felt about her and her family. But the Greyjoys had never been regarded very highly by the Starks. Maybe not until now. Theon and his sister were the last Greyjoys. Just as Sansa, and her siblings, were the last of the Starks. Maybe they could be better than the previous generation, than their parents. Sansa knew her father had good reason to not trust Balon Greyjoy, but she could never understand why Theon had to be punished. Even as a young girl, when she would watch from the balcony the young, Ironborn prince striding about, Sansa would wonder what it was like to be so far from home. Things had changed, and Sansa was sure that they couldn’t go back. “Thank you, for coming to Winterfell.”
“I don’t suppose I really had a choice, did I?” Yara answered gruffly, looking straight ahead, as if she couldn’t bear looking at Sansa. Well, Sansa felt the same way, or at least she wanted to. This was Theon’s sister, but that didn’t mean Sansa couldn’t have qualms about her presence in Winterfell. Sansa knew only too well how troubling and difficult sibling relationships could be. “My brother is here, so I am here.”
“The North will forever be in debt to Theon. We all will.” I will. But Sansa didn’t dare speak that aloud, especially not to Yara. Sansa couldn’t even truly admit it to herself, not outside her own mind. In a strange way, she felt a certain affinity for Yara. It was a feeling Sansa couldn’t quite explain, but it was clear to her that the two Queens were more similar than they first believed.
“How strange that sounds. My father wouldn’t believe it.” Sansa was sure a smile had just crept onto Yara’s lips, even for just a moment. Maybe the Greyjoy Queen wasn’t as resentful as she made out.
“Nor would mine.”
“I don’t think there’s any need for pleasantries, we may as well get straight to the point.”
Sansa sighed, “You’ve come to collect him?” She knew she couldn’t avoid this topic forever, but as the words travelled from her mind to the outside world, she knew it couldn’t be taken back. Yara certainly wouldn’t leave without her brother, and Sansa doubted very much that she would want to stay any longer than required.
“Return him, you mean,” Sansa noted the shift in Yara’s tone, even more frustrated than before. She didn’t quite believe that could be possible. Return, like Theon was a lost package. Return, like he was stolen from her. Sansa supposed in a way he was. But Theon had gone home, more than once. And yet, he had decided to come back to Winterfell. He had decided to come back to fight to save it. He had come back to Sansa. He had come back to a place that was never his home, that he never felt he belonged to. And there was a reason, Sansa wished she was the reason, but couldn’t say for sure.
“Maester Wolkan informs me healing takes time. You can’t rush it.” The maester hadn’t said those exact words, but Sansa wasn’t being untruthful. The maester had spoken to Sansa about Theon, briefly, over the past few weeks, just informing her of his progress. Sansa didn’t know the exact details of Theon’s injuries, but she understood enough to know Theon still had some recovering to do. But that wouldn’t last long, and soon Yara would take him away, take him back to Pyke, take it home. Sansa wasn’t sure she could stop it, but she would do everything in her power to make sure it would smoothly.
“I didn’t expect to be back in Pyke by the ‘morrow.”
“I know that I was just preparing you.”
“And are you prepared? To lose your hero of the Godswood.”
Sansa could tell Yara found it amusing, she clearly knew how Theon felt about himself and what he had done for Winterfell. Perhaps she had not expected her brother to survive, just as Theon had. But regardless of how anyone felt, Theon was a hero. He was a hero to Sansa; in more ways than he knew. “I wouldn’t let him hear you call him that.”
“Hm.”
“You may jest, your grace, but Theon is a hero. In more ways than he knows.”
“I understand.” The Ironborn Queen did not sound as if she did fully understand. Sansa supposed she could appreciate it. Theon was her younger brother; he would always be just that. Just as Bran and Rickon were Sansa’s. But still, Sansa would forever be in debt to Theon. She never believed she could ever make it up to him. But she wanted to, desperately.
“I’m not stupid, I know how you feel about being here. But I thank you, I do.”
“Your brother-“
Sansa sighed, “What Jon did is not relevant. Not to me, not to you, and not to Theon. He’s paid the price, just like so many others. I do hope that won’t taint your stay here.” She had grown tired of hearing about Jon’s disgrace.
Yara waited a moment before she nodded, realising that there was no point arguing with Sansa.
“We’ve had a room prepared for your stay, for as long as you need it.”
“How kind.”
*
“Everything alright, dear sister?” Arya was standing in the doorway, leaning up against the frame. Her eyes were watching her sister scribbling down words and words on the parchment. She looked tired, no, she looked exhausted. He hadn’t noticed Arya standing there, too focused on her work. Her chambers were messy for the first time in Sansa’s life. Arya had never seen her like this. The Sansa that she knew was always in control, she knew what to do in a crisis and wouldn’t waiver. But something had changed, like it had for Arya. For everyone.
“Oh, fine, just fine.” Sansa didn’t look up when she spoke, her hand quickly rushing against the piece of parchment. Arya watched her for a moment, before sitting on top of the stool opposite her sister.
“You don’t sound very sure, my Queen.”
Sansa closed her eyes, before placing her quill down. “Arya.” She could see her sister smirking at her, she knew Arya thought all the sudden change was ridiculous, she always had. Arya was never one for following the rules, she didn’t enjoy their lessons with the Septa, and she didn’t like wearing dresses or acting like a proper lady. Sansa on the other hand had done everything she was supposed to, but that didn’t make her life any easier. And yet, here they both sat, in Winterfell, at home, just the two of them. Sansa was Queen of Winterfell, after everything. And with the one person she could truly rely on.
“Alright, alright. I apologise.” Arya could sense Sansa wasn’t in the mood. She could sense something was seriously wrong with her sister, and she very much doubted it had to do with her royal duties. “What is it?”
“Just…there’s a lot to do.”
“I can help.”
“I’m sure you can, and I may take you up on that offer.”
“But?”
“It’s not this. This, I can solve this, fix it, find a way.”
It didn’t take Arya long to figure it out. Actually, she had known for quite a while. Arya knew her sister better than anyone, their years apart had not changed that. She saw the way Sansa would glance at Theon when she thought no one was looking. She noticed to slight tint of pink that would appear on her cheeks whenever someone would mention his name. She also noticed how much time Sansa had spent in his chambers since he awoke, and how she was the first to visit him. Arya was not stupid; she knew exactly what it meant. She’d thought about mentioning it many times, but it only seemed right now, when the two sisters were alone. “Theon.”
“What?” Sansa gulped, not expecting Arya to even think to mention Theon. Of course, she had been thinking about him, he filled her brain. She had tried not to think of him, she had tried to think rationally and reasonably, but nothing seemed to work. Sansa had tried to distract herself, which wasn’t proving too difficult with her new position. There were so many different things she had to worry about, more than her parents ever did. But the days were moving on and time was running out. Theon had almost recovered, and he would soon leave. Sansa couldn’t stop it no matter what she felt. There was no real point trying to stop it. She was powerless.
“Yara. The Ironborn Queen.”
Sansa rolled her eyes, though she was glad the subject was drifting from Theon to his sister. “We should never have invited her to stay.”
“Hm, it’s the done thing, is it not?”
“Mother wouldn’t have let another Ironborn even think about entering the gates.” Sansa couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her mother. Her hatred of the Ironborn was well-known to any who knew her. And yet, Sansa had allowed not one, but two of Balon Greyjoy’s children into their home, let alone the Ironborn soldiers who came and died for Winterfell. Oh, how times had changed.
“But you’re not Mother, Sansa.” No, Sansa was not Catelyn Stark. No matter how much she tried to think of her mother during times of need or trouble. No matter how many times Littlefinger would tell her how much she looked like her. Sansa was her own person; she could never be her mother. But she missed her desperately. She wished she had got to say a proper goodbye. She wished she had listened more, been kinder to her. She would have to do her justice now, as the Queen of the North.
Sansa sighed again. “What is it, Arya?”
Arya knew Sansa wasn’t going to tell her without any probing, even though the both of them knew exactly what was troubling the Queen of Winterfell. “You can admit it, you know. You can admit it to me.” Arya’s eyes locked with Sansa’s; she could sense the fear in her eyes. She could see how everything she was feeling was just about to burst out for all to see. But Sansa couldn’t keep it to herself forever. And Arya didn’t want her to, not if it was making her so unhappy.
Feeling Arya’s eyes on her, Sansa couldn’t help but turn her attention to something else, anything else. The words she had been scribbling down previously didn’t seem to make any sense. The words on the page didn’t matter, it was just a way of Sansa avoiding the inevitable. But she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t say the words. She knew what Arya was trying to say, but Sansa didn’t want to admit it. Not even to Arya. Not even her sister. She couldn’t do it; she couldn’t let those feelings come to pass. Even though she wanted to, she didn’t truly understand how she was feeling. She’d never felt so much in such a short amount of time. It hurt to see Theon, and yet, that was the one thing she wanted to do. She missed him when he wasn’t there and wanted to check on him. It was foolish really, for Sansa to feel like a little girl. But she couldn’t help it. She’d tried, desperately, to think of anything else. But that was becoming more and more difficult. She was just too scared, scared that it would all be for nothing. “And what is it I’m admitting?”
“Sansa, please. You can’t deny we’ve become used to Theon being in Winterfell again.” Arya used the term ‘we’ lightly. Yes, it did take Arya back to when she was young. Seeing Theon reminded her of Robb, it reminded her of Mother and Father, of little Rickon. But some of those memories were not happy ones. The loud crowds by the Sept. The chaos at the Twins. The battle in the snow. But technically, yes, it was nice to feel as it was, before.
“True. You the most.”
Sansa was missing the point entirely, of course, she was. She didn’t want it to be real, she didn’t want to have to face those feelings. But she couldn’t wait forever. Soon, Theon would be gone, and she would miss her chance. Arya knew what that was like. There were times she regretted how she and Gendry had left it. But it was the right thing to do. Sansa, however, would be making a big mistake. “Everyone we grew up with is gone. All of those memories, those people…”
“So yes, I don’t like the idea of losing another. Not again.”
“I see.�� Arya nodded, perhaps this was Sansa voicing those feelings. Not exactly in the way she had expected or even wanted, but Sansa was very different from her sister. “Have you…voiced these feelings to anyone else?”
“No, just you.” Sansa rolled her quill across the table, sighing to herself. Why was she telling Arya this? It wasn’t going to help or even change things. “Why is that funny?” Arya seemed to be sniggering at her.
Arya scoffed, “I…just…would never have imagined this conversation to ever exist. You confining in me.” She shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all. If only their father could see them now. The thought of Ned Stark still brought an enormous wave of sadness to Arya. Maybe more so than anyone else they had lost. She would never admit that to anyone else, not even her sister. But she missed him so much, more than anything. Even after all those years.
“You’re my sister. The last of the Starks. Of course, I confine in you. I trust you.”
“And I, you. But it doesn’t have to be that way.” Arya was urging Sansa now, but she couldn’t change her mind. Sansa was stubborn, just as she was.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do, Sansa. You can’t fool me.”
“Arya, please. I’m tired.”
“You better get some sleep then, my Queen,” Arya smirked at Sansa, who couldn’t help but smile back. But it wasn’t a real, genuine smile. It was one of sadness, one of guilt, one of regret, for something that hadn’t even come to pass.
#game of thrones#got#theonsa#theon x sansa#sansa x theon#theon greyjoy#sansa stark#got fic#theonsa fic#got fanfic#theonsa fanfic#game of thrones fic#game of thrones fanfic#theonsa fanfiction#got fanfiction#game of thrones fanfiction#my writing#mine#we unravelled a long time ago
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just watched all of daisy jones and the six and i gotta say the songs bang
i also like how the spotify looks like they’re a real band that existed in the 70s
AND THE OUTFITS!! NEED
#DID WE UNRAVEL A LONG TIME AGO#my spotify wrapped is really up in the air with all these new songs i’m obsessed with#daisy jones and the six#planetariumx posts#more fun to miss goes so hard actually
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obsessed with this song from a fake band… the lyrics are generic in a way that works extremely well. maybe we CAN make a good thing bad
#during the first few eps of the show i was like these songs are ridiculous they say a whole lot of nothing#now im like huh maybe they’re right. we unraveled a long time ago we lost and couldn’t let it go. many such cases#Spotify
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ok its after midnight so bed time but many max thoughts
#tomorrow i have a 5h train ride to berlin and presumably no internet during so my crochet will thrive#if u were here 2 days ago when i said i was doing a beanie i lied actually i unraveled the beanie#im makin a little shrug now. i have the shoulders and half of one sleeve#ooc.#im tired i am ready 2 go home#we leave LA to head home on the 25th. not long now#trying to enjoy the trip vs simply wanting my cat and 2 hang with my roommate#absolute bright side? te.en wo.lf movie comes out like. the day i get back or the day after#perfect brilliant timing
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if they had a kid meme for the pairing you want to do this for the *most*
Thank you sm for asking! I think I’m going to go with my Glee OC, Augusta Carrigan. She is my other Glee OC, Thea’s, best friend since childhood, and a future love interest for Puck. So, this will be his and Augusta’s child (Btw, I recasted Puck’s fc to Jesse Metcalfe, and Augusta’s fc is Evan Rachel Wood).
Name: Este Thea Puckerman
Gender: Cisgender female
General Appearance: Este completely takes after her mother in looks: blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile that can be sharp and calculating, but sweet around people she loves
Personality: Este is a bit of a mystery to those who don’t know her: on the outside, she is cool and cunning. However, around her parents and her friends, she is kind and sweet
Special Talents: Incredible dancer (her speciality is ballet), black belt in karate, and a very good singer (which is not surprising considering Puck’s voice & Augusta being in a well-known band as an adult)
Who they like better: Her aunts Thea and Iris Este doesn’t prefer one over the other, she likes them both equally
Who they take after more: Probably Augusta a little bit more (though she’s not as cunning as her daughter)
Personal Headcanon: Brittany has made Este her prodigy, and it’s actually hilarious watching the two of them together because they are two completely different personalities
Faceclaim: Lili Reinhart
#oc: augusta carrigan#fic: dorothea#tv: glee#s: pugusta#otp: we unraveled a long time ago#oc asks#emilykaldwen#THANK YOU SM
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The Accidental Solution
Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit
Word Count: 17.1k (wtf am I okay?!)
Summary: Joel accidentally walks in on you naked when you’re fresh out of the shower. The situation as you expected leaves questions in the air and Joel to avoid you as much as he can. That’s until you decide to take matters into your own hands.
Warnings: 18+ SMUT, no use of Y/N, age gap (Joel is 52 but age of reader is not specified), friends to lovers, plot of how Joel and reader met, description of readers body but again not that specific, sub!Joel, insecure!Joel (he just needs some lovin), but also mean!Joel, Joel gets called a good boy (oops?), pet names, dirty talking, M!masturbation, Joel having filthy thoughts 💭, blowjob, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex (don’t be naughty!), creampie.
Okay listen, I don’t know how the hell this turned into a 17k fic but here we are 🤦🏻♀️ why do I have to be someone who has to write in so much detail (because shit this took me ages 😭) anyway… I hope enjoy 🤣 and let me know what you think! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I know it’s been a while! 🥹
Taglist: @harriedandharassed @mumma-moonchild @chyannealaniz @millercontracting 🤍
Warm water cascades down your bare back and shoulders as the heat begins to unravel all those aches and tight knots in your worn-out muscles. You can slowly feel your body letting loose from the long day you’ve just endured; the lengthy walks, the cold nights, the tense stretch felt in the soles of your feet swiftly easing from the water pooling on the shower floor. The steam starts to travel up, surrounding the enclosed walls and clearing up your sinuses. You can smell the freshness of your shampoo and conditioner, the floral scent giving you that comforting feeling of finally being back in the familiarity and safety of your own home. You lather all your products in between your fingers and palms, rubbing them deep into your scalp and across your body, your fingertips massaging the headache and ringing in your ears.
You’re happy to be home. Eyes observing the clock and knowing before your shift even started that patrol this time would be a long one; abruptly waking up at dawn to the repetitive sound of beeping coming from your alarm on your bedside table, tired eyes failing to adjust to the sun rising through the split of your curtains and fighting to pull yourself out of the warmth of your covers. Mornings were always a struggle for you. Attempting to get through your morning routine, having breakfast and quickly getting ready for the day. Your shift goes by smoothly which you’re thankful for, but once it’s over it seems to remind you that you’re returning home to another day gone so soon, your walk back home filled with empty streets and dark skies.
🍃🍃 A few months ago 🍃🍃
You knew Tommy was hesitant at first glance when you’d offered him an extra set of hands with patrol duty. His wide eyes and furrowed brows peering down at you, displaying nothing but a face full of determination and so much willingness. His reaction didn’t surprise you and never bothered you in the slightest, already expecting that certain response from people and knowing exactly why.
You were young; soft in personality and had a pure heart, always being able to see the good in all people. You weren’t someone who belonged within the dangers that surrounded the outskirts of Jackson, and it was rare for someone who’d been in a world that held endangerment and risk to still have that positive outlook on it. But that wasn’t all that you were. You were also devoted and strong-willed, knowledgeable of outside life and full of eagerness, so it didn’t take long to prove to Tommy that you were just what he needed to get the job done.
You were dedicated, fast on your feet and capable of doing and making any necessary decisions to help others you worked with. After a few shifts, you began to notice how the rest of the team started to warm up to you, considering you were still fairly new and just making your way around the ins and outs of the job. Apart from this, everyone who you worked with was kind, respectful and you were able to make a few friendships along the way with a different range of people.
That’s what you enjoyed about the job, how effortless it was for you to get on with the community, and how welcoming they were to any newcomer.
Of course you knew you’d come across certain situations that would have you questioning yourself; how could it be dealt with. How to get around it as efficiently and effectively as you could make it. You were ready for that moment to arise, but what you didn’t expect was that this was first coming your way in the shape of a man. Tommy’s older brother in fact.
And his name was Joel Miller.
You’d heard the name, the way it was whispered around town, eyes unable to look away when said person was nearby. Tommy had mentioned his brother a few times around you, whether it was in meetings or general conversations, and what you had gathered so far was that Joel had been new to Jackson for just a few weeks when he started patrolling, barely having time to settle down in the new environment and heading straight to protecting the people of the town. It didn’t surprise you that Joel was immediately giving himself a persona of negativity and dislike, being a hard man to please and someone who had no intention of getting to know people apart from the obvious; Tommy, Marie and Ellie. He was intimidating, vague and held a stern facial expression that had everyone stepping back.
You knew it was coming. Joel had made his way around certain shifts with different people who’d found it difficult to break him out of his hard, concealed character. So when Tommy mentioned that your next shift was with someone who you hadn’t yet worked with, it didn’t take you long to know exactly who that person was going to be.
Tommy meets up with you before your shift starts, expecting that if he somehow warns you about Joel first, it’ll make the situation less tense. “You see my brother…,” he lets out a deep sigh, “he’s…he’s a complicated man. He’s not one for talking or getting to know people.” You can see Tommy wince slightly at his own words, having a picture already drawn up in his head with how this’ll go.
“I just wanna try one shift with you. To see what he’s like.”
You weren’t someone to say no, conscious that Tommy was already having a hard time getting his brother to ease up to people. You give him a reassuring smile and nod at his request, and happy in yourself that you receive a smile back, his stance now not as tense and face softening at your reply.
Everyone you’d worked with so far had been fine, shifts running in order, so you thought surely he’s not that bad.
To your surprise, it’s worse than bad. It’s just unwelcoming.
The first time Tommy introduced Joel to you he didn’t even bother to shake your hand, small arm outstretched ready to finally meet the man whose name had been on your mind since you’d heard it. The way he’d take a glance at you and just grunt when you told him your name, with that simple look of unimpressed planted across his features. Joel knew he didn’t have to mention his own, certain that he was already known around the people of Jackson. What was even worse than his rude posture and not-so-open welcome was that he had very little vocabulary and a miner attitude in having any sort of conversation, just simply having no interest in others and just wanting to get on with things without distractions.
Even with his not-so-keen introduction, his ways of communicating should take you back, upset you in some way or maybe even annoy you. That’s what you expected from yourself but somehow it did the exact opposite. Yes, he was rude but you knew behind that harsh exterior held someone who’d just been through a lot, done things he knew were wrong but for reasons he knew deep down was right. His eyes held a lot of his true self. They were a dark brown colour but were so soft, eyes you could get lost in if you looked in them for too long. They were so different in comparison to how he showed his persona, how he stood his ground.
So when you’d mentioned to Tommy that you didn’t mind having more shifts with his brother he seemed taken aback. “You sure?” he says, tone high and dubious, “I don’t want you sayin’ that just cause of what is said—”
“Tommy…,“ you console him before he can get you rethinking your decision, giving him a light chuckle. “I’m sure. I’m more than happy to have him around more. Wasn’t as bad as I thought he’d be.”
You can see that Tommy’s grateful, going through certain shift plans with you and letting you know which ones you and Joel will be paired on together.
You can feel the butterflies flutter in your lower stomach, an unknown feeling tickling its way up your spine. Could it be nervousness? Maybe doubt? Or perhaps you’re feeling sceptical about your abilities to change the way Joel perceives you.
Or maybe, just maybe, deep within yourself, that feeling you felt was excitement.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
You and Tommy had agreed on a few shifts a week working with his brother, just to see how you’d both get on with one another. Tommy demanded updates from you every time you got back from patrol and each time, the feedback became more positive; the shifts not being as awkward or dealing with Joel’s quiet moods, his negative attitude.
He starts to become more at ease with your presence. You begin to see more of what you knew he wanted people to see, to understand.
You liked how with each minor conversation you had with him they’d become longer, talking back and forth about everything and anything you could get out of him. His replies back now came from a place of interest, wanting to let out any built-up resentment or just wanting to talk about the little things.
Of course, he was adamant about you in the beginning, but what you began to realise was that Joel was someone who needed time and patience. Time to trust and accept you and others around him. That people weren’t there to be his enemy, they were there to show him that Jackson was good and that he was in a community that would keep him and Ellie safe.
You started to like having him around, warmth building in your chest when you’d look at the patrol board and see his name right next to yours, even when you knew already that you were on shift together. The more he opened himself up to you the more you craved his company. You’d never met anyone like him, so it didn’t seem to shock you that you’d started to see him in a different light.
It hadn’t taken long for your feelings to develop into a minor crush, subtly taking longer glances at him when he wasn’t looking, heart pumping out your chest when you’d make him smile or chuckle at something you said. You were aware that he wasn’t like this with many people, being so open the way he was, and the thought had you blushing.
You’d take time to admire all his frame; his wide shoulders, his broad arms hidden in his thick coat, mind picturing what he’d look like without any fabric covering his physique. Even in the cold weather, his skin was tanned in colour, his hands large and fingers thick. His hair was scattered in salt and pepper strands, with tight curls that rested atop his furry collar. You’d wonder what it’ll be like to run your hands through them, to even tug on them, him wincing at the pull as you cover your lips around his neck and jaw.
His nose framed his face, soft brown eyes and a scattering of wrinkles around his temples and forehead. Fuck he was attractive, and the in-depth staring started to become a continuous reminder that Joel was a man much older than you, which only made you like him that much more.
You struggled to conceal the hidden desire that shivered up your back when he told you his age, “uh…I’m 52. Been doin’ this for a long time… N’too damn long if y’ask me.” You give him a short and sweet reply, too afraid your voice would give you away with how badly it turned you on.
Fuck you definitely shouldn’t be attracted to someone twice your age.
It comes to into full effect when he starts calling you certain names; every once in a while, a darlin’ or sweetheart leaves his carefree lips when he asks you for a favour, or when he initiates a certain change of plan when necessary. The words glided off his southern tongue so smoothly, having to clench your thighs together to ease the ache you felt for him.
He had changed every single aspect of your thoughts. Wondering what he would be like if he’d give himself a chance to feel. To give himself a moment of vulnerability. Was it something that he’d even allow himself to have? To drop his guard down just a little and delve into that part of him that maybe he hadn’t felt in a long time.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
Joel wasn’t someone for getting too close to people.
It had been that way for him for as long as he could remember, and he knew it was selfish, but that’s the way he wanted it.
And it was so easy for Joel, not to feel. To not be someone whose emotions got in the way of everything. To be a person who was closed off and shut down that part of himself that made him feel anything other than his own protection. This meant he’d never get hurt, even if it meant damaging people in the process.
It was until he’d become acquainted with you, he’d question everything he’d set his mind to.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
Joel doesn’t remember the last time he’d felt so intimidated by someone. He was shocked at how quickly it had taken you to become confident around him straight from the get-go. You were keen to show him how knowledgeable you were, how you’d face any problem with intelligence and no trouble. And he hated to admit it, but he liked how ahead of the game you were, how you took everything on with attentiveness.
It had been a long time since Joel had met someone like you.
He’d never let you know this. Joel was too proud and stubborn to admit that you had challenged him first-hand and that you’d started to make him question his ability to be someone who’d work better on their own.
The more shifts the both of you were on together and being within each other’s company, Joel had noticed his shoulders weren’t as tense as they’d usually be. His body became less formal and opened up to your company and the warmth that radiated off of you. He liked how you brought out that side of him that he thought had disappeared. It was even rare that at certain points in the shifts your humour and wit would catch him, small and subtle chuckles escaping deep in his chest.
You had fire and you were headstrong, determined to get him to let go of that rough ego and just be himself around you, which Joel initially though he’d hate, but it didn’t take long for him to privately crave the attention you gave him.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
A few months into patrolling, Tommy had set you and Joel up as official partners.
Your constructive feedback at the end of each shift had Tommy already making the clear decision to pair you both up permanently.
Even noticing himself how well you were getting on with his brother, and how you both thought it would be the best option for him. To stay with someone who he knew he got on with. To Joel’s surprise he didn’t mind, knowing that you worked well together and got on with the job quickly and efficiently.
Throughout the months of getting to know each other, the relationship between you two had developed into something much more than work colleagues and had eventually made its way out of patrol hours. On a whim, you’d asked Joel if he wanted to grab a drink with you after one shift you had together which was rougher than usual. You knew this was a big offer and Joel, as always seemed hesitant, but after a moment of silence, he accepted your invitation. Because fuck he could do with a drink right about now.
This then turned into a routine for the both of you. Meeting for a late night cap after your shifts were over and also in your free time, either having a few at the Tipsy Bison or at each others houses.
🍃🍃 Present Day 🍃🍃
This of course was no different tonight. Patrol running fondly and you both getting back to Jackson much earlier than anticipated.
Once you arrive back at the gates you look up towards Joel. “So…same tonight Joel? Wanna pop by mine and grab a drink if you’re free?” You secretly adored how Joel would react when you’d ask him to come over, still slightly unsure and not used to your kindness and simply wanting to be with him. While he stares down at you in thought, all you can think is please say yes, please say yes, please say yes. And after what feels like minutes have gone by, he gives you a gentle smile, “yeh sure darlin’. Just need to pop by mine n’ I’ll be over.”
You nod at him, grinning at his acceptance until eventually you part ways, rushing back home and hoping he’ll give you enough time to quickly freshen up until he comes round.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
Joel gets to yours in no time at all, making his way up your porch and standing outside your front door. He knocks on your door a couple of times, ready to hear your small footsteps and see your wide smile welcoming him inside your home.
Whilst he continues to stand there, trying to wait patiently, you don’t answer. He waits a few more moments until knocking again and doing so much louder this time, but after another minute of waiting…you still haven’t answered.
He knows this isn’t like you; front door opening the second you hear his hard knocks echoing through the four walls of your front room, barely giving him enough time to prepare himself and ushering him inside with your open body language and sweet voice.
It makes Joel think that you’re somewhat excited that he’s here.
He isn’t worried, that’s what he wants himself to think and he knows he shouldn’t be, trusting you fully with how you carry your independence and welfare. The many times he’s been inside your home you’ve always reassured him that you don’t take longer routes back and that once your shifts are over, you’re making yourself straight home.
But yet why does his chest suddenly feel slightly heavier? Why does his throat feel tight and restricted? You would have got home by now, so why aren’t you here? He’d never doubt you by all means, but right now he needs to know if you’re safe.
So he thinks fuck it, and lets himself inside.
You two had become close enough now that he’d know you wouldn’t mind if he walked into your house on his own accord, especially with the unknown certainty of your wellbeing in his thoughts and it becoming his main concern.
He pulls down the door knob, initially thinking to himself, please be unlocked, and thankfully when it is, he lets himself inside. Firstly he checks the front room and kitchen, which are both encased in darkness, softly being lit by the moonlight sliding through the sheer curtains hanging on your window rods. He lets out a frustrated sigh, you’re nowhere to be seen.
He calls your name, followed by a darlin’, y’here? Again, no answer. Once both rooms are looked over he’s making his way upstairs, his large boots creaking across each step, careful not to trip over himself. He notices that the first door which he suspects is your bedroom is halfway open, the absence of light clouding the room and just the gleam from the landing light outside dimly illuminating the space. He gently opens the door and like the others, the rooms are empty. Once he’s about to make his way back downstairs, you waltz out the bathroom.
You were naked. Towel in both hands and currently drying the ends of your hair, with soft hums of a song vibrating along your sealed lips and eyes closed. Mind oblivious to Joel's now wandering gaze.
Joel couldn’t move, his body frozen and lascivious eyes glancing down at every inch of your bare skin that was visible to him.
Your hair was drenched with droplets of water falling seamlessly onto your shoulders and goosebumps covered the skin of your arms from the abrupt coolness that hit your body once you walked out of the warm and steamed-covered bathroom.
Your breasts were fully in view, the shape of them accentuating your waist and your nipples hard from the cold temperature change.
It was like Joel’s life had instantaneously gone in slow motion, and fuck he was so grateful for it. His eyes mapped out every line and curve of your smooth skin, how the water covered you and cascaded down your body making you glisten in the dim light.
His knees buckle under him when his eyes land in between your legs, his vision getting a subtle glimpse of your sex.
He can feel his cock growing for you, becoming hard and twitching with need. He has no control over it, and he knew if he looked down now there’d be an evident tent expanding in the thickness of his denim jeans.
Your eyes abruptly open when you feel a radiation of heat in front of you, your throat letting out a surprised yelp. Your limbs act quickly, throwing the towel across your bare chest so it covers your upper body and ends just above your knees, swiftly giving yourself some dignity.
It takes a moment for you to contemplate what’s happening in such a quick amount of time, and once you realise it’s Joel who’s stood in front of you, seeing you naked and who’s in such close proximity to you, you jump at the act.
“Fuck Joel!” You squeal in surprise.
Those two words spring Joel into action. Who the fuck does he think he is? He knew he was expected here but never like this. You must think he’s a creep, wandering into your house to catch you so exposed and open, and all for him, just for his own personal pleasure.
He brings his large hands up to his face, palms covering his now reddish features and blocking all images of you out of his mind. His voice gets stuck and his words stutter in his chest, all thoughts fogged and glazed over, hoping anything will come to mind as to what he can do to explain himself.
Your hands clutch your chest tightly, your touch easing the thumping of your heart. “Jesus Christ Joel…,” you chuckle awkwardly, “you scared the shit out of me.”
He looks down at your stairs, body retreating to provide you with some comfort and to insinuate that he’s not trying to make you feel uncomfortable.
“F-fuck darlin’, I—shit, I’m sorry,” the words fall quickly off his lips in hasted rambles, voice attempting to explain why he’s put you in this situation. “Y-you weren’t answering the door I thought—fuck I don’t know what I was thinkin’—I thought somethin’…”
The more he hears the miserable attempt in his tone, he knows there are no words that’ll make this circumstance any better, so he comes up with the next best solution.
“M’gonna go. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
Before you can help relax his nerves, his feet are moving faster than his thoughts, throwing all his weight down each step of your stairs and straight to the door, not even daring to look back, dreading to see that look of shock and how flushed your face had become from his sudden presence. He needed to get out and get out quickly, slamming your front door firmly shut and leaving you in silence.
The loud bang causes your whole body to flinch, shoulders and face wincing inwards from the harsh sound.
You never expected this to be the way it would go. Bluntly coming face to face with the man who’s been lingering on your thoughts right in front of you, him now seeing every part of you, slowly being uncovered by his lengthy stare.
His face was in full shock, eyes wide and mouth fully agape, all of his warm colour being ripped away from his features, but his feelings kept unrecognisable as he eyed your body up and down.
You cannot help but think to yourself; Why did it make you feel so good, seeing him become so shy and flustered in comparison to his hard and demanding nature? Knowing that you were the one who pulled his guard down. Seeing that undisclosed side of him that you’d never get a chance to see.
You begin to wonder what he’d thought. Did he like what he saw? Would he think about you when he’d return home? What could’ve possibly happened if he hadn’t scurried off when he did? The different scenarios cause your heart to race again, a toying smile caressing its way across your face.
But then maybe his reaction was out of pure disbelief, not wanting to present you with the thought that he was giving you the wrong impression. False hope. And that it was just a simple mistake and he’d never want it mentioned again.
You don’t move from your spot on the landing, feet concreted to the ground and mind puzzled, racing with too many questions that you know can’t yet be answered.
So for right now, all you know is that this is going to be something that could possibly change your relationship with Joel, either for the better or for the worse.
And you beg it’s the first option.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
Joel feels humiliated. He feels ashamed. He knows he’ll never be able to come back from this, having possibly ruined the relationship that he knew you had ought to seek out of him for so long. That moment his eyes had finally seen you so intimately he knew his current feelings for you were now out of his control, and that he would never be able to keep his thoughts about you hidden, like he had been doing pretty much since he had got to know you.
It’s become too much for him to bear. What the fuck is he going to do. He’s completely embarrassed of himself and too much of a coward to face you. He needs time away from you, to alleviate the stress he’d put on himself.
So he decides to change his routine altogether so he can avoid you as much as he can. To avoid the crumbling mess that he’s made. But no matter how many times he tries to sidestep the obstacles of that sudden consequence. He sees you everywhere.
Whether it’s in the mornings. Just when you were about to start your shift with whoever it was you were now working with, fuck he wanted it to be him. Or either at the canteen eating your breakfast or through the frosted window of the Tipsy Bison, clutching a drink in hand, with just an empty stool and silence beside you to keep you company.
He feels terrible, fully conscious of your confusion as to why he’s pushing himself away from you, leaving you with numerous questions in the thickened air that now surrounds the two of you, and Joel having no intention of answering them.
It had been a long time since Joel had allowed himself to feel or do anything other than protect himself and others, and he was fucking terrified that out of all the people he had been acquainted with throughout the years that it was you that had these unknown feelings of wishing and wanting someone resurfacing. Even during and before Tess, Joel had never been interested in those sorts of relationships, until now with you.
Joel had lost a lot of people he’d put his care and trust into, and every single time that affliction happened it crushed him down even further than the last.
He thought that maybe if he’d push you away intentionally, he wouldn’t have to deal with losing you all together.
He knew that empty void inside could easily be filled if he allowed himself to relish in the feelings he felt for you, and deep down he wanted nothing more than to show it to you, but his mind and body had been deprived of it for so long he’d simply forgotten how to.
How could he just become so honest and vulnerable in such a short space of time, and with someone he’d only known for a couple of months, even if your relationship had developed quicker than any other he’d had? How can he be with you in such an intimate way and come full face to face with the truth?
Because fuck, it had been way too long since Joel had given another woman pleasure.
He knew it was wrong. The wanting. The craving he felt for you. And you were so much younger than him it made his chest hurt. He knew what people would say if they found out, Joel being involved with a much younger girl. He cared more about what people thought of him than his own and it pushed his feelings down even further.
You had been so soft and sweet and kind to him when all he wanted to do at the start was ignore you altogether. He was so impolite when he barely introduced himself to you, and the fact you had swallowed down the rudeness of his words with a smile, he knew you’d forever change him.
He wanted you so bad, and it felt like a huge weight off his shoulders once he’d finally admitted it to himself. But it wasn’t just your beauty that had him questioning his whole life’s purpose and what he believed he wanted. It was how confident you were, and the way that confidence radiated off you. How you’d persevere when people or life threw obstacles at you. And you were so fucking welcoming to everyone that added to it.
Just seeing you for all you were, so supple and bare and open to his gaze just moments ago was just the last straw for him to cave in and just accept his feelings.
He knows it’s bad but there’s not one ounce of him that feels any regret. The constant pondering of what you’d look like finally coming to light, and it is better than anything that he’d pictured.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
The moment his feet make their way through his front door he’s rushing his body through the house and straight up the stairs, not even bothering to switch on any of the lights or even question if Ellie was home. Once he’s upstairs he takes himself into the bathroom and turns the shower on so cold water runs out of the fossil. His skin feels hot to the touch, burning sweat coating his forehead and clothes suffocating him as he frantically shreds the fabric that clings tightly to him.
He hisses through his teeth, the cold water falling onto his bare back and shoulders, trickling down his body and cooling his heated condition. His breathing is laboured, chest rising and falling in quick bursts while he attempts to calm himself.
He pushes his body forward, eyes meeting the floor and preparing himself for the crisp temperature as the water pours onto his hair, the wet strands dropping in front of his face as he allows his head to fall in defeat.
He’s hard. His cock standing strong in between his thighs and aching. His tip was red in desperation, with that tight coil of pressure rising in his low abdomen.
He shouldn’t. But his minds to overpowered with the need to come he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t, he might pass out.
A low grunt rattles in his chest when his shaky hand wraps around his shaft, stomach muscles clenching and legs quivering with need.
He can’t take it slow, fucking his hand at a vigorous pace and already feeling his peak creep its way up to the surface. His head hangs back over his shoulders, eyes falling shut and small, deprived moans leaving his lips.
His tip is so sensitive he can feel it everywhere and all over his body, pre-come pooling at his slit and covering his fingers as he uses his other hand to grip the shower wall in front of him.
The moment his vision is blurred and his mind explores all of his demands, all he can see is you. The image of you carefully opening the shower curtain, your body exposed and knees falling onto the shower floor as you take his cock into your mouth, savouring the salty flavour and pushing him to the back of your throat.
He thinks about how you’d look; mouth so small compared to his thick cock and using your hands to wrap what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, wetting every inch of him with your saliva, and swallowing his release down with that sweet smile you curse him with.
He’s going to come, and it’s happening painfully quickly. Your appearance bringing him so so close to his orgasm that it’s like he has no control of his own body, yourself having full dominance over him and you weren’t even there.
He stutters over his words, those exact words he wishes he could really say to you, “fuck darlin’ that’s it. You’re—shit y’gonna m-make me—.”
He inhales in a sharp breath and his body eventually lets go, his cock left without release for too long as his hand continues to tug on his thickness in irregular and faltered motions, pleasure rippling through his whole body like a tidal wave.
His release runs down his fingers and spurts on the tile wall. And there’s so much of it. His cock is pulling so much neglect from him that his other hand has to grab into the shower curtain to hold himself up.
His mind races through the thoughts of how your mouth or cunt would feel in comparison to his hand. The way you’d swallow all of him down your throat, opening your mouth to show him exactly how good you were for him, mouth all empty and tongue licking your lips to taste all of his come. And fuck he knows you’d be so tight; so warm and soft as he’d fill you with all of him, your eyebrows knitting together in slight discomfort from the stretch. He’d know you’d take him so well, begging him to fuck you like he knows you truly deserve.
He freshens himself up and makes his way into bed, hoping that sleep will give him some sort of a stress-free night, and to mostly block out the image of you. Joel feels that regret instantly, knowing too well that he shouldn’t have let his body take over him the way it did.
Joel already knew it was going to be a long night.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
Joel avoids you like the plague.
His way of steering himself away from you has gotten so bad that he’s asked for his patrol shifts to be with other people, and to be cut to shorter hours to avoid you completely. His reasons are that he wants to try again with previous partners, saying that he was harsh with them before and wants to do better. Or he’s too occupied with things at home and with Ellie. You didn’t even hear this from Joel himself, Tommy confessing it to you one morning when your patrol shift was about to start.
Whether it be in the early mornings at the canteen or weekly patrol meetings; he’d be up and off the moment you’re entering the building, chair tucked under the table and the entrance door opening and closing before you can get the chance to scan him out from the crowd. He’d even begun to skip his daily drink at the Tipsy Bison, which he never missed out on. He’d just make his way back as soon as his shifts were over, muttering quiet goodbyes and marching his way down the street and straight home.
His absence makes your heartbreak. Did he think the situation was that bad? Was he that embarrassed by it that he’d made the decision to avoid you forever? It wasn’t you that had made the situation awkward and it didn’t have to be. You thought he’d come up to you by now, but yet still after the two-week mark, you hadn’t spoken one word to one another.
You want to scream till your voice aches, till that hurt in your throat replaces the other pain felt low in your chest. You want to let out that built-up frustration that had begun to boil over, to talk to someone who could easily give you hope about the whole situation.
And that one person who you knew could help, didn’t want to talk to you.
You need answers and you know you have to talk to Joel eventually, even if he didn’t want to. This circumstance can’t go on for much longer and the both of you know it. So if it has to be you to initiate it first. Then so be it.
You don’t know what suddenly gives you that burst of energy and confidence to confront him, but your body’s moving before your mind can even process where it’s going.
🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
It’s late. But not too late at night so you know Joel will still be up and that you won’t be disrupting him. Once you freshen up after your patrol shift you’re making your way to his house, the walk from your home not being too far from his which you’re thankful for. Your mind attempts to drift elsewhere; analysing other things as you know if you reflect for too long about the possible outcomes, your mind will start to counter multiple reasons as to why this is indefinitely a bad idea.
But then was it such a terrible idea? The both of you were grown adults and people who were now close enough to be able to talk to one another and to have a reasonable conversation.
Without having any opportunity to regret your decision and give yourself more time to back out, you’re standing right in front of his porch, feet walking up the few steps and hand now inches away from knocking on his front door. You take a final deep breath in through your nose and exhale out your mouth, giving a few gentle knocks as you wait for Joel to open.
How long have you been standing here? Would he even answer knowing it was you who was waiting nervously behind the door? Fuck, maybe he was asleep. Yeah, he’s definitely ignoring—
Your ears pick up that sound. Those familiar boots treading across old oak flooring, getting louder and more prominent with each step until finally the door opens and a tall frame stands in the doorway.
Well you think…this is it.
“Hey Joel…” your voice is quiet and just slightly above a whisper, like your throats pushing it straight back down, too anxious to speak as you take all of him in.
He looks tired, his hair fuzzy and sticking up in different directions. Fuck maybe he was sleeping. His beard hasn’t been trimmed, but the stubble brings out the sharpness of his jaw. He’s wearing a checkered flannel, a dark forest green with burgundy red crossed stripes, the fabric buttoned up only halfway showing the bare tanned skin of his chest underneath it. Your eyes drop down to the sight of his chest and quickly rise back up to his face, heart pounding and mind racing with all the thoughts of what you’d rather want to be doing to him at this defining moment.
His face drops when he sees you, and fuck it hurts to see it. His stare wanders around you like he’s lost. You can see that distinct look in his eye, like his mind playing tricks on him, and dumbfounded as to why you were here on his porch so late at night, with that look of distress on your face and in need of answers.
“Uh, hey…”, he runs his hand through his hair. An act he hopes would proceed as confidence, but he’s worried it’s showing every ounce of apprehension running through him, “what are y’doin—“
You beat him before he can finish his sentence. “D’you mind if I come in? I thought we could talk.”
Joel’s said no plenty of times, and it’s such an easy word for him to say. Mostly all of his life he’s been rejecting people and saying that one term more than he could count. But with you, no doesn’t exist in his vocabulary, “yeh—,” he coughs out the strain in his voice, “uh yeh. Sure darlin’.” He moves his frame to the side, “come in.”
You smile at him before making your way past him and into his home. And once you step in, the side of your arm subtly grazes his front, your body trying to abstain from his touch. The hold he has on you and he doesn’t even know it. Feeling him so close for just a second has your mind going dizzy, his body giving off so much warmth that has your cheeks heating up.
You make your way inside so you’re now standing in the middle of his front room. And once you’re inside…it feels weird. You’ve been in his house plenty of times, but in this circumstance, it feels different to you. Like you’re seeing it from another perspective. The whole room feels bigger somehow, the décor and frames covering the old brick feeling somewhat unfamiliar and unrecognisable as you look around, hoping that the walls surrounding you will give you some sort of consolation.
Outside his house you felt confident to a certain degree, preparing yourself to get straight to the point but right now, your mind conjures through all the different scenarios that could possibly happen.
You hear the click of his door shutting, his frame coming into view as he just stands there and watches you watch him. It’s awkward, hardly having talked or even looked at one another for weeks. You try and break the silence. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I thought I’d pop by as I thought you’d still be up.”
His voice is quiet, “no you didn’t wake me. Just didn’t expect to see you that’s all.”
Of course he didn’t expect you, he’s been avoiding you as much as he could for the past couple weeks.
The silence is loud, bouncing off the walls and deafening. You can just about hear the voice in your head as it tells you to leave. It’s saying yes, yes this is a terrible idea and why did you come? He doesn’t want to see you. His feet can only just be picked up over the roaring in your ears as his boots make contact with the floor, his body moving only a few steps in.
He doesn’t look you in the eyes, “So…everythin’ alright?”
He has no reason as to why he’s said it, and he regrets it the second it leaves his lips, already knowing that everything’s not alright. That he’s aware of the suffering he’s put you through. How he’s constantly and intentionally ignored you for as long as he could, how he’s escaped all possible interactions with you.
You give him a blank stare, eyes boring into his faltering stance, “Uh...I don’t know Joel,” you cross both arms over your chest, “why don’t y’ask me.”
You were getting straight to the point, your courage outweighing his without question, something that he’d already anticipated the moment he’d see you again.
But yet, that’s what he loved about you. How you weren’t afraid just to throw yourself into situations that could become awkward, how self-assured you were to confront him about something he knew was out of his depth, and those lingering unknowns with what the consequences would entail.
But this doesn’t stop Joel from becoming flustered by your words, his stare firmly locked down at the floor, voice flat and one tone, “don’t know what y’mean.”
That makes you chuckle, his vague response causing the air in your lungs to contract, annoyance clearly being shown in your pitch, “oh Joel please. You don’t speak to me anymore and apparently have no fucking time for me. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks and to even swap partners and cut your shifts short just because you want to avoid this. To avoid what’s clearly been bothering you.”
He can hear as each word falls from your lips the substantial burden he’s placed on you. And he feels awful for it. He never wanted it to go this way, him leaving you with nothing but his neglect on your side of things and not giving himself the chance to act on what he’s really been feeling.
The look of bewilderment is held strongly on his face, brows furrowed and mouth firmly fixed straight, blocking anything he might want to say. His posture remains restricted, bend forwards to hide himself from his own mistakes.
“I just…,” you let out an exhausted huff, “I don’t know what to do. What’s been going on with you lately? Why won’t you just talk to me. You’ve been so distant with me and I want to know why.”
He’s still stood near the door way. Hands down and glued firmly on his sides. He’s agitated, not having any ounce of preparation for your statement, his body being thrown into hot flames without hesitation.
He shrugs his shoulders, “s’nothing. Don’t wanna talk about it.”
You burst. “Bullshit Joel. I know it’s mostly because you walked in on me that one night. Because if so. I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. It was a simple mistake.”
His voice becomes much louder, and it surprises you. “What do you want me to say? Huh? Yes that’s the reason,” Joel now makes his way into the room, marching over in your direction, “and yes it’s a big fucking deal, okay?”
His statement has you easing, finally noticing that you’re getting somewhere with him. You want him to understand that even though his reaction came out of pure astonishment and humility, he didn’t have to act this way, even if you liked that he saw.
You attempt to calm him, “it doesn’t have to be Joel. Why can’t we just go back to—“
“Because I can’t get the image of you out of my god damn head. The way you looked I can’t…,” he eventually sighs in defeat, “I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s there every time I see you, even when I try n’avoid you you’re still in my head. It’s there when I close my fuckin’ eyes a night.”
You look up at his face, your expression is wide and body shaking with adrenaline. He’s frantically staring at you now, in desperate need for you to say anything as to why he knows this affair between you both is a bad idea.
“Joel—“ you say in condolence.
“I shouldn’t…fuck I shouldn’t. I know it’s bad and I know I shouldn’t be thinkin’ about you like that.” He runs his hands across his face. “It’s wrong darlin’—so wrong.”
It’s all starting to make sense, the missing pieces connecting and creating a full picture. The realisation hits you fill force; the reason as to why he’s been avoiding you, why he’s cutting down his hours and how he’s swapped his shifts around, all because his thoughts about you since that moment you both shared have had him questioning his feelings for you.
And that he liked what he saw.
Now that you’ve recognised his emotions, it strings your own into action. Gently moving yourself closer to him, taking small steps forward and watching for any doubt in his eyes, your words simple and hushed. “Joel. It’s not wrong. It’s okay.”
His shoulders stiffen when he catches how close you’ve gotten to him. He knows if you come close enough, it’ll have him pushing all reasoning out the way. He sees the way your body’s moving so intently, walking so slowly to him, his head already shaking in disagreement.
“I’ve wanted to talk about it…” his eyes visibly bearing the shame he’s felt in himself since he’d slammed your front door shut, “n’ I feel so fuckin’ bad for how I’ve been treating you. I jus’ didn’t know what to say or do to explain myself.”
Joel has your face softening as he tries to explain to you why he’s acted the way he has. Being too ashamed in himself to confront you about his reaction on that night, and how negatively his actions were after it.
You’re still making your way towards him, his words only spurring your movements on with nervous excitement building in your stomach. His eyes are fixated on your face, seeing nothing but acceptance and understanding washed over your facial features. And it makes his palms sweat, “sweetheart I—.”
“Joel just listen to me. If you’d had just talked t’me we wouldn’t be in this situation. We’re both close enough now that we should feel like we can talk to one another. N’whatever you’ve been feeling for me I’ve also been feeling for you. And if I’m being the honest one now, I’ve felt this way about you for a while. Fucking hell Joel if it’s taken us this long to admit it I’m glad you saw me like that.”
He backs away slightly, pulling himself from the magnet that’s forcing you so close to him. The pressure that surrounds him is suffocating, the tension in the room beginning to thicken, “I shouldn’t of— sweetheart it ain’t right. This. I can’t… “
He wants to give in, and he can tell that you can see it in him too, his body language yielding into you too easily. He needs to finally feel something he’s missed out on for so long, and fuck he wants that with you. It’s right here in front of him as your words and gaze initiate it, but now it’s in his grasps, his mind can’t seem to comprehend it.
The two of you are that close now he can feel the heat emitting off your body. But he can also sense that your still sceptical, not moving too close where you’d break the revealing traction that’s growing between the both of you. You look into his eyes, watching him earnestly. “And why not Joel? What’s stopping us from doing what we both know we’ve wanted for so long?”
And the fact is, there’s absolutely nothing. Not one single thing Joel can muster up or give any reason as to why he shouldn’t stop himself from having you, to take you right here and right now.
So he thinks of one pathetic excuse, and his face grimaces. “I’m a lot older than you sweetheart…”
His justification makes the corners of your mouth curve upwards. If only he knew. “You think I care about that? Joel there’s so much more you need to be worrying about these days. We’re living in an apocalypse for fuck sake. Your age has never been a bother for me.” Your eyes fall down to his mouth, “I actually like that you’re older. I like it a lot.”
A haltered exhale flows from his lips. All he can see is the pure want in your eyes, pupils dilated and eyelashes fluttering. He can feel the desire pouring out of you and drenching his skin, affecting him more than he thought it would.
He knows the more you stare at him the way that you are, with that look of just surrender Joel. I want you as much as you want me, he’ll do anything you want, no matter what the price may entail.
You gently place both of your hands onto his firm chest, but not too forcefully, hoping the touch would be just enough to ease him into you. You can feel the beating of his heart hitting the skin of your palms as his chest palpitates wildly. And that’s when you try and relax him, your hands moving up and down to inspect the newly felt part of him. You dig the tip of your fingers into his muscles to help relieve his rigid stance against you.
“Joel—,” his name falls so cautiously from your lips, so indifferent to how you usually say it. As this time it’s said with lust drooling off every letter. This moment has been replayed over and over in your thoughts too many times; how he’d feel so close to you, how his body would tower above you, how he’d gaze at you with need in his eyes, his mouth leaning in close to yours.
Your hands follow further up his chest and onto his shoulders, pulling at the neck of his collar so your hold makes contact with his bare skin, making more of his tanned chest visible to you.
You voice follows up his upper body, “I want this. And I know you do too. So don’t be nervous with me. Let me take care of you Joel...”
You step a little further in, his body as near as it can get and now brushing your front. Your hands stay where they are, your head falling back so you can see his face, your doe eyes peering into his, “please. Let me show you how much I want you.”
He doesn’t say anything, eyes locked on the shape of your lips and arms still placed at his sides. His form however leans into you voluntarily, begging him to just simply give in. His backs curved over, face almost level with yours as he waits patiently for whatever you want to do to him. You pull down on his shoulders just a little more and stand on your tip toes, luring his lips closer to yours.
You give a faint kiss to his mouth, just so subtly and quickly that he doesn’t have the time to react. His moustache tickles your top lip, and the sensation has your mouth quivering. You move your lips to the corner of his mouth, kissing him there once and then kissing his cheekbone, pouring every ounce of appreciation you have for him onto his skin. He breaths heavily against your face, his breathing low and eyes falling shut.
It’s his turn now, and you can slowly feel him returning the affection. With every graze of your mouth on his you can see the affect it has. Your body waits in anticipation, waiting for him to wrap his arms around you tightly, to squeeze and grip as much of you as he can.
You place another light peck on his lips, your mouth now hovering over his, the both of your faces only millimetres away from each other as your voice whispers the honest truth.
“I really need you Joel.”
His body shakes, tongue already salivating just from the slight taste of your lips on his mouth, so sweet as he finally gets a tease of how you feel. His arms that have been secured straight on his sides are reaching out to your safety, his embrace wrapping around your back, holding you close.
His eyes open so faintly, glancing down at where the two of you are lightly attached. And you’re so close. He can smell the freshness of your shampoo, he can feel your hands caressing his muscles, your needy touches igniting that fire inside of him. Your eyes tell him everything; that once hidden stare saying please Joel. Give in. Let me show you what you need.
He needs you, and he wants you to show him exactly what you want to give him. So he mumbles a low and greedy fuck before his mouth pushes strongly towards yours.
Once Joel moves in the rest of the way, you allow him more of your body to touch, arms wrapping round his neck and pulling his mouth down harder onto yours, small fingers threading though the soft curls on the nape of his neck.
When you brush your tongue across his lips he’s easily giving you access, opening his mouth wide as the both of you savour the taste of each other. A satisfied hum leaves your mouth and travels straight into his, your tongues dancing with one another.
His hold on you can’t let go, hands lifting up and grasping hard onto the back of your neck and knotting his fingers in your hair, growling in fervor as he continues to explore the inside of your mouth.
Your body contorts so effortlessly into his, moulding in shape as he bends forward to push himself so boldly into you, your spine curving backwards with the way he’s gripping you.
But you pull him back way too soon for his liking. He pinches your skin and prepares himself when he notices your feet are moving him backwards, his hands clinging onto you in until he feels the back of his knees hit the corner of the couch.
His whole body drops onto the sofa, the touch of your mouth and hands leaving complete numbness on his skin that he misses instantly. He holds onto the cushion and arm rest, knuckles turning white from the clench as he just watches you stand there, bearing down at him, with a gentle smile plastered across your face.
It feels so overwhelming. Seeing him like this. Having known Joel for as long as you have it hadn’t taken you long to uncover that cynical persona he’d put out for himself. Joel was strong. Joel was a man of integrity and leadership, so watching him melt into the palm of your hands has your insides tingling with control.
His eyes are steamed over and his mouths marginally open while he takes all of you in. You lean your body forward as your hands land on his chest, putting most of your weight on him to make yourself comfortable, your knees being placed on the sides of his legs and lowering yourself down on him.
Fuck he knows there’s no going back from here, now that you’re sitting on his lap, sighing in fulfilment when you drop yourself down on his thick thighs.
He knows you can feel his hard on, his cock becoming needful the moment your lips touched his. And he can’t help but feel embarrassed by it, how easy it’s been for you to have him right there, his body quickly responding to your hands on him.
You trace patterns on his arms, fingers following the creases of his flannel and hands moving up to his shoulders. His atmosphere’s hot and heavy underneath you, the trust in his own actions buried beneath him while he looks at all of you in complete awe.
You slot your hips more into him so they’re flushed up and close to his groin. Yep, you can definitely feel his cock now. You moan his name and your voice comes out strong, much more pronounced than he knows his will be. “Fuck Joel. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you like this.”
Joel bites back the desperation that pressurises the back of his throat, “christ sweetheart,” his shock is followed by a harsh swallow, “you can’t say that to me’.”
Your words have power over him, and you love it. You lean your lips down to the side of his face, mouth inches away from his ear as his stubble tickles the side of your face, “why not Joel? Don’t you wanna hear how badly I’ve wanted you.”
He doesn’t say anything whilst you continue to spur him on, your kisses travelling down his jaw and neck as his pulse rapidly beats against your mouth. You give a lingering kiss on his sweet spot, finding that place that has him shuddering under you.
He’s quiet. And you feel like you’re back at square one with him, hands not touching you and his words have disappeared. You’re now contemplating your own beliefs, his silence starting to come off as unsureness, mind fixated on too many things at once.
You try and make him feel less tense, “hey…” you brush the strand of hair that’s fallen in front of his face, also lifting his chin up to look you in the eyes, “talk to me Joel.”
Depending on who he’s with, Joel has always been a man of very few words, having never found the time or place to be so talkative or to make general conversation. But the situation you’ve put yourself in with him, silence is the last thing you want him to be.
You want him so much, but you can’t let your pure want overcome the circumstance too much, needing him to express that he’s wanted what’s about to happen as much as you have.
His voice is hesitant, “it’s jus’… y’sure? Y’sure you want to do this with me?”
“Yes,” the answer leaves your mouth in a instant, as it holds so much certainty in it and so much truth, “I’m sure Joel. Since the moment I met you I knew. You’re the only one I wanna do this with.”
This isn’t like him; his easy comebacks, his sarcastic jokes. You wonder where has that Joel gone? Why is he so concerned about you. You’re throwing yourself at him and he’s yet to catch you. It has your mind twisting and turning until…your eyebrows droop in, mind deciphering in understanding.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve been taken care of. Hasn’t it Joel.”
He’s motionless, jaw firmly closed and hands still resting on the sofa, his touch only inches away from your thighs. “Answer me Joel,” you say in solace.
“Yes…,” he chokes out, fuck he’s feels stupid, eyes closing in complete surrender and voice trembling with how easily you’ve read him.
He expects you to laugh at him. To humiliate him. Tell him how can he be so weak with you when all he’s ever known is the hard life that’s been full of danger that lurks around each corner. How can this world that he’s had to adapt to pull such a doubtful response out of him.
But instead, you caress the stubble on his jaw in sympathy, and his head follows suit. You hold his face in the palm of your hands, your voice faint and warm, “poor Joel. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone want you like I do. Give you pleasure like I do. Someone who’s treated you right.”
He needed to hear you say that. Fuck he does want it, he wants to finally be the one who stands back and lets someone take over. And he wants it more than anything to be you to give it to him.
You clock your head to the side, “is that what you need Joel? Need me to show you how good I can make you feel? To show you what you’ve been missing out on?”
He nods his head embarrassingly.
Now you’ve got him. All he needed was time and patience, and your reassurance to get him there. You bring your thumb up and drag it across his bottom lip, your tone dropping an octave, “say it Joel. You don’t need to hide from me. I need to hear y’say it.”
He inhales in through his nose, praying to god that he can summon up the words to tell you exactly what he desires, “please darlin’. I need you—it’s been so long. Fuck I want you.”
You can feel your arousal seeping into your underwear from his pleas, his lack of sexual attention thoroughly soaking the material.
You rub your clothed core onto the tent in his jeans, moaning as his hard cock grazes your throbbing clit. A drawn out mmm fills the space between you, your tone of voice seductive, “good boy Joel.”
His groan pulls deep within his chest, he likes that. He likes how you praise him when he’s done something right, when he’s been good, when he’s done exactly what you wanted him to do.
His reaction has you biting your lip, “you like that don’t you Joel. Y’gonna be good for me? Gonna let me do what I want with you?”
His eyelids are half open. Yes he thinks, yes I’ll be the best for you. You can do absolutely anything you want to me and I’ll let you do it.
His response is clingy “yes. Fuck. Yes I’ll be good f’you.”
You smile at him, giving him a rewarding kiss on the lips. But before he can deepen it you pull back, Joel pouting at the coldness your mouth has left on him. You lower your gaze onto the fully grown bulge in his jeans, “you wanna know what I’ve thought about?”
He’s allowing you to say what you’re about to say without actually telling you to. Excepting that his body’s lost all power, your weight on him making him lightheaded, his mind becoming intoxicated.
“I’ve imagined what these big hands would feel like on my skin,” you articulate, taking ahold and tracing your fingers lightly across his wrists and over his calloused palms, using him however you please. You inspect them, noticing that his fingers are hard in texture, rough to touch but the rest of him is soft.
“I’ve picture your fingers across my cheeks…,” you use his knuckle to sooth your cheek, “and how they’d feel on my lips…,” and then bringing them down to your lips, “how easily they’d cover my breasts.”
You can hear the air falter in his throat, face locked on his hands that you’re using. You allow his hold to drop down your neck and lower to your chest, staying there for just a second until you lead them further up and back to your lips. “I’ve made myself come so many times with how these thick fingers would fill me up. Fuck Joel I know they’d stretch me out real nice.”
Well shit.
Your smirk against his fingers, “you want that don’t you. Want to feel how I’d struggle to just to take your fingers. How I’d come all over them. Preparing myself so it’ll be easier for me to take your cock afterwards.”
Joel feels like he could come just from your words alone. Every single syllable being exactly what he’d pictured in his head. He lets out a weak huff, “christ sweetheart. Fuck let me do that. You can use my fingers. Wanna feel you come on them—please.”
“You’ll have that soon Joel,” you coo, “ just let me have my fun first.”
You remove yourself just as he was about to ask you what you meant, standing back on both feet while he looks above you. His hands fall down onto his sides once again, knees bouncing in anticipation.
You remove your top, inching the fabric above your head and throwing it somewhere on the floor behind you. You give him a lascivious smile before your hands make their way behind you and unclasp your bra, your breast now visible and free from their confines, and to Joel’s wide stare.
Just as he was about to usher you back onto him with his grabby hands you’re unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the denim down your legs and leaving you in just your underwear. You waste no time in hooking your fingers into the thin material and sliding the final piece of clothing off your skin, showing all of yourself once again to Joel.
And it all floods back to him. Like you had never left. Only now it’s more detailed than hurried and rushed as it was weeks before. He remembers how silky your skin looked, how your breast shaped your frame, your nipples hard and perky from the cold air. How your body held this natural glow, and right now it’s beaming from the moonlight casting through his window.
He can see your arousal coat the insides of your thighs, and fuck he’s a goner. He wants to lean forward are spread your wet folds and delve his mouth and tongue into your sweet cunt. He wants to devour you and make you come all over his face, to use him as you ride out your orgasm.
But you do the exact opposite. Instead of settling yourself back onto his clothed thighs you drop yourself onto your knees, reaching both hands out and dragging them up and down his legs, caressing the muscles as you watch his thighs twitch.
You call out his name. “Joel?”
And he stutters back. “Y-yeah?”
Your one hand travels up and cups his thickness making his hips buckle. Fuck he looks big, and he feels big, the rough outline of his cock being shaped by the tight material that hugs him. You lick your lips as your mouth becomes hungry, yearning in need to be filled, “can I suck your cock?”
His head slacks onto the back of the sofa, his cock pulsing and reacting so well to your words, and how they glided so easily off your once so innocent tongue. He looks at you with hooded eyes, “fuck baby…”, he’s pushing his cock up into your hand, giving you the go ahead, “yes please.”
You squeeze his girth, watching his face screw up at your tiny hold on him, “you’re being so polite, aren’t you Joel. Y’doing s’good for me.”
His thighs constrict when you trail your other hand across them, fingers finding their way up his clad jeans and skimming the material.
The suspense is too much, his mind running the image of your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock. He needs it badly, the thought enveloping him to the point where he’s becoming quick with his movements, frenzied hands pulling his belt though the belt loops.
But his motions are put on a standstill when you stop him dead in his tracks.
“Let me Joel. I’m the one who’s looking after you, remember.”
He nods his head, eyes following you whilst you undo the rest of his belt and pull down his zipper. His one hand returns to it’s rightful place on the arm rest and the other is on his thigh, compressing the muscle and clinging on like his own life depends on it.
There’s no way he’s hiding it, and even if he tried there’s no contradicting it. Once his zippers undone all the way, he’s lifting his hips eagerly to help you pull off the denim and relieve that pressure building in his lower stomach.
His erection is resting heavy in his boxers and it makes you mouth water, parts of the material deeper in colour from the pre-come that’s coming out of his tip, painting them in his arousal.
The size of him through his boxers has you gasping. You thought he was big in his jeans, but nothing compares to seeing him right now. “Fuck Joel you’re so hard already. Lift your hips up again for me. Let me see you.”
He’s so willing to comply, raising his lower body and watching as you pull the waistband of his boxers over his cock and down his legs.
His tips red—looking angry and hard as his cock hits his stomach with a smack, his pre-come pooling onto the hairs just under his bellybutton.
You wrap your dainty hand around him, a hiss pulling from Joel’s teeth when you inspect his thickness.
“I knew it,” you confess to yourself, “knew you’d be big Joel.” You tilt your head down and kiss his slit, moaning at the taste, “n’you’re so fucking pretty.”
You get straight to it, lowering your mouth and swirling your wet tongue around the head of him, collecting his release so he covers all of your tastebuds.
A flavoured hum leaves your lips and pulsates and laps around him, finally savouring those thoughts that clouded your mind all day and night. Now never having to wonder how Joel would taste; how he’d feel inside your mouth, what he’d look like above you while you urged him closer to his orgasm.
You look up at him through your lashes, landing continuous licks to his slit, “this okay Joel?” you murmur, like he isn’t already putty in your hands.
“Christ,” he grits, his cock reacting to every single swipe of your tongue, “d-darlin’—.”
“Go on Joel,” you utter, “tell me how badly you want me to suck your cock.”
Fuck you’ll be the death of him, his chest filling with oxygen and voice frail, “yes darlin’ jus’… fuck. Want you to suck my cock please—please I need it.”
You giggle at his eagerness, the sound vibrating all over his cock and causing his hips to buckle up, edging his length deeper into your mouth.
You pull off him just ever so slightly, tutting your lips together, “now stay real still Joel. Don’t move or I’ll stop. Can you do that for me?”
He’s quick to nod his head in full understanding, cock becoming inpatient and weighty and full in your hand.
This was even better than you’d imagine. This little game you has started with Joel. And noticing how much he was liking it had your cunt dripping for him. Joel’s withering above you when you put your lips back on him, his stare lingering on where you’re both connected. He gasps when your mouth swallows all of his tip, mouth back to swirling your tongue around him like he is your favourite flavoured lolly pop.
There’s no going back from this now, and why would he want to after you’ve just given him a taste of letting go. Why the fuck did Joel stop himself from delving into something he’s been without for so long? How had he forgotten what it was like to be given pleasure and praised for it?
And with your perfect mouth wrapped around him, it’s just the reminder he needed.
You slip more of him inside your mouth, each drop of your head reaching down further until he hits the back of your throat. Your gag reflex contracts around his girth causing Joel’s stomach to tighten, using all his will power to stop himself from thrusting up and into your mouth.
Because he remembers your words. Stay real still Joel. Don’t move or I’ll stop.
You alter between bobbing your head and circling your tongue around his swollen tip, the mixture of your saliva and his own pre-come coats his cock and makes him glide so smoothly in and around your mouth, the sounds of your slurping and sucking filling the room.
Joel chokes on his words, “f-fuck sweetheart, your mouth…shit it feels so f-fucking good. C-can I move my hands? Please—jus’ wanna feel ya.”
He’s being so patient, keeping his hands down onto the sofa, and so much that his strength could split the seams of the material. But behind his compliance, there’s a hunger so deep, so guttural. You can feel it in the way his hips weight themselves down, his thighs clinging together.
You lift your mouth, his tip leaving your warmth with a light pop. Your cheeks are flushed red and eyes watering from his cock abusing the back of your throat. You use your hand to slowly pump him, keeping him in a state of pleasure, “y’doing so well Joel, and being so good f’me. Go on, I’ll let you touch me, touch me wherever you like.”
You edge him on, bringing your mouth back down and swallowing all of him once again. Joel pulls his upper body forward, soothing his hands on the dent of your spine and anywhere he can reach without disrupting you and your movements on him.
Joel tries to put all of his focus into his breathing, to give it full attention and try his best to not come so quickly. “Christ darlin’,” Joel mutters, “you’re so perfect. Y’feel so fuckin’ soft.”
Your moan onto his cock, showing him that his touch on your skin is affecting you as much as it is for him. His grip remains on your back and his other hand moves under you and grabs your breasts, pinching your taunt nipple in between his fingers.
And fuck his fingers feel good, continuing to bob your head on his cock and dragging your one hand from his thigh down to cup his balls, gently squeezing them in your palms.
Joel’s eyes widen in surprise at the new sensation, “holy s-shit.”
Joel’s rambling. And he’s not even self-conscious by it. Exposing all confessions and desires to you so voluntarily.
“I touched myself after I saw you,” he acknowledges, “fuck I tried not too but I couldn’t stop myself. I p-pictured you like this. On your knees and taking me like this. Shit you made me come so quick.”
You clench your legs together. Fuck he’s got a dirty mouth when he puts his mind to it. Your eyes are glossy whilst you look up at his wrecked face; his foreheads covered in a sheen of sweat and eyebrows are knitted together to hold off the orgasm that’s about to course through his entire body.
You move your mouth up to his slit, keeping your attention there where you know he’s the most sensitive. You kitten lick his tip, smiling devilishly at his fucked out form, “is that right Joel. Did seeing me like that make you horny? Did seeing me so open like you did make your cock hard?” You tease him and he nods at you.
“You’re a naughty boy. Aren’t you Joel.”
Joel sighs pathetically, his length throbbing in your hand at the way you provoke him, how you push him even further into divulging into his secrets that he once thought he wouldn’t manifest.
You press wet kisses along his base, pecking his cock in endearment and your stare never leaving his face. Your lick a long strip up the side of him and hollow out your cheeks when his tip fills your mouth again.
He’s close. You can see it in his face. The rushed whimpers gliding so evenly off his lips, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. And he knows that you know it too, how pitifully fast you’ve got him to that peak.
“You gonna come Joel?” You ask him enticingly, “you gonna come in my mouth? Like you imagined when you fucked your hand thinking it was me.”
Fuck he wants to. He wants to feel your tongue lick every last drop of him as you swallow his come down your throat, opening your mouth to show him how much you enjoyed it.
He grunts your name, followed by a weakened yes. Yes I’m gonna come. You’ve gotta stop. Baby please stop. Wanna be inside you. Need to feel you.
You chuckle gleefully, and you will stop. But he doesn’t need to know that right now. It’s so fun seeing him struggle. So you continue to lick him and roll his balls in your hand, spurring him on and pulling him just a smidge closer to his high.
He attempts to pull himself away from your mouth, but every time he does you move back onto him. His thighs begin to shake, chest sucking humid air into his lungs to calm his heart rate but also the pulsing in his cock, “fuck darlin’,” he warns you, “oh my—fuck I don’t—y’gonna make me come. S-shit stop.”
And this time you do. Not wanting this to be over before you’ve even started. You eventually pull your mouth off of him, watching how his cock drops onto his lower stomach with a wet slap, glistening and covered in your spit.
You can see how’s Joel’s trying to hold it back, wrapping his own hand around his head to stop the throbbing still being felt across his cock. His tummy clenches and then releases, becoming soft as he fully takes back charge of his breathing.
You wipe the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand, leaning your lips down to press kisses across Joel’s belly, loving how plush he feels against your lips.
“How was that Joel?” You question, “you still okay?”
You’re such a tease, mouth shifting up Joel’s stomach and onto his chest, his arms pulling you up as you go. “M’fine darlin’,” he huffs, hooking his fingers around the back of your neck, “jus’ come ere’. Come sit on my lap.”
Before you do, you help him remove his boots, and then his boxers and jeans that still rested by his ankles while Joel unbuttons his flannel and throws it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. The image of his bare muscular chest has your breath hitching and your pussy pulsing. You rest your weight on his shoulders and put yourself onto his thighs, where this affair had began just moments before.
But only this time, you’re fucking naked and your bare pussy is making a mess on his cock.
“I love these hands…”, you bring one up and play around with it, inspecting them and pushing your thumbs down into his palms to massage the longed strains in them, “they’ve worked so hard,” you caress them, “you’ve work so hard Joel. For too long.”
You rest your own hands on top of his, caging them so they grip the skin on your thighs, “touch me again Joel,” you plea, “I ain’t gonna bite.”
You can feel that his hands have no intention of moving, his hold just squeezing the flesh of your legs, with his eyes showing you his need for your guidance, “or do you need some help.”
He gives you that well known signal. So you begin to move his hands for him, bringing them up and onto your hips and then onto the flesh of your waist. You can feel his pulse quicken again as you show him where you want him. You keep him there for a moment…watching the desperation fall from his lips. You smile at his reaction, loving how even having sucked his cock, and almost having him come down your throat, he’s still so hesitant in the way his hands follow your skin.
You guide his touch up to your breasts, feeling his palms kneading the sensitive skin. He massages your chest so tenderly, each rub of his thumb over your nipples pulling more wetness from your core.
You moan out his name, “fuck Joel,” the words giving him the permission to carry on, “that feels s’good.”
And god you feel so good. “You’re so soft darlin’,” he mutters, “y’feel better than I imagined.”
“You’re so sweet Joel,” you say, cherishing his words, “how many times have you thought about this?”
Fuck he’s thought about this everyday since he’s been given the chance to know you. He tried so hard to avoid the temptation that began pestering his mind when you were together. And even when you weren’t, you still drifted into his thoughts.
“Too many times baby,” he admits, “wanted you like this for so long.”
Joel’s so indulged on your breast. Having finally felt the way they fit so well in the cup of his hands. He kneads them. He pinches them. But his gaze instantly drops when you avert his other hand locked in place on your chest down lower and in between your thighs.
His cock jumps on his stomach, impulsively reacting to where he knows precisely where you want his hand. And mostly his fingers.
He doesn’t have time to behave, already using two of his fingers and gliding them through your folds and that alone has your head rolling back, your pussy clenching hard against the calloused skin of his digits.
He saw how drenched you were, but he becomes bewildered when he gets a feel of your soaked cunt. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart. Christ you’re s’wet.”
And it’s all because of him; his words, his actions, his cock in your mouth, his lack of control. “It’s all for you Joel,” you softly speak, “you’ve done this. Sucking your cock has made me this wet for you. Want to feel you inside me.”
His fingers are uncertain. They’re Nervous. Each slide of them learning everything about you and changing their motions to see what has you twitching in his lap.
You become restless, the tip of his digits teasing your hole and the hood of your clit, “Joel please,” you babble, “put your fingers inside of me.” So he does. He inserts one finger into your deprived cunt, and fuck you feel warm and soft, his digits being engulfed by the heat and the pressure of your inner walls.
He doesn’t waste any more time in adding a second finger. Slowly pumping and curling them inside to reach that spongy spot that has your grasp strengthening on his shoulders, your features creasing inwards at the slight stretch of him.
You can feel how your walls are trying to accommodate his fingers, your pussy tight and restricted as your try and get used to having him there. “Knew I’d struggle to take you,” you say quietly, breathing out in rhythm to help you adjust, “yes Joel keep going. Yes that’s—fuck that’s it. I want to be ready to take you.”
Christ you were everything. Feeling your stuffed up pussy pour more of your wetness down his knuckle and hand, while Joel uses his thumb to play with your puffy clit, rubbing it in tender figure eights.
“Here’s what it want Joel,” you muster up to say, your body trying to take pleasure over the instructions you’d firmly set in place for him. “Want you to make me come on your fingers first,” you wrap your fingers around him again, giving his cock a slow tug, “and then you can have this pussy on your cock.”
It’s all becoming too much; how fucking filthy your mouth is. How the words flow out so fluently. It overwhelms him, and he’d be an idiot if he’d disobey.
You question him, raising your eyebrows, “you got it Joel?”
His fingers falter to a stop, knowing how vocal you like him to be, and what you’ll do if he isn’t. You need to make sure that he heard you, you need him to say that he fully understands you.
He gulps, his voice weak, “yes sweetheart.”
You sooth the patchy stubble on his jaw, kissing his lips and hovering your mouth over his, “now show me how y’gonna make me come,” you challenge, “fuck me with your fingers Joel.”
That sparks him into action, fingers back into the metrical pace that had your walls fluttering against him, mouth open with needy moans falling from them.
“Oh my god Joel,” you sob, “yes—fuck right there. Keep going.” He connects his lips with yours, again licking and forcing his way into your mouth as you oblige his invitation. He can taste himself as he still lingers faintly on your tongue, but he’s too far gone now to give a shit about that.
His fingers are relentless, hitting your g-spot each time with the tip of his digits, his other hand following suit to play with your messy and swollen clit, a whimper erupting from your throat and flowing into his mouth.
It hadn’t taken Joel much to find those hidden spots to have that knot tightening in your stomach. To have that pressure rising up and overheating. And fuck it had been a long time since Joel had used his hands to pleasure a woman, and he thanks the lord that he hadn’t lost his touch.
Your lips break apart for air, your mouth wet and abused from Joel’s ravenous tongue, with your chest rising and body shaking. “Oh my—,” you choke on your words, “fuck Joel. I’m so close. Y’gonna make me come—don’t stop.”
As if he’d ever stop, how could he ever stop.
His fingers keep up their pace, curling into your velvety walls and flicking your clit with his other hand. His weights ready for your body to tremble and contract as he gives you what you wanted, what he’d always wanted to give you.
“Yes baby please,” he begs you, “give it to me. Show me how pretty you are when you come.”
That’s the last thing you need for the string to snap, that coil in your lower stomach to burst, body falling forward and pussy gushing and throbbing on his fingers, your orgasm pulsing though you and Joel’s one arm already outstretched, ready to catch you.
You cry out his name, Joel Joel Joel, your body now using him for your own pleasure as your hips move on their own terms to prolong that feeling of ecstasy that’s Joel’s flared up inside of you.
“Yesss darlin’ that’s it. Fuck I can feel your pussy hugging my fingers so tightly,” and he can imagine what it’s like when he feels it on his cock. He kisses your collarbone and neck when your head falls back, sucking the skin red and leaving a trace of what’s he’s just given to you, marking you, eyes closing shut with that added gratification of his claim.
He lets you ride it out for as long as he can make it, because you deserve it with how he’s treated you. He slowly pulls out his fingers when his doesn’t feel your walls contracting around him, his two digits shining with your release.
Your body slumps forward and onto his chest, and he’d somehow forgotten how much he missed having you this close. His skins hot, making you limbs shudder. “Oh my god…,” you manage to say, arms wrapping around his neck, “fuck Joel you’re good at that. You’re s’good.”
Your words make him laugh, and god you’ve missed that sound, remember how stern he used to be with you, how it had taken you months to get him to even smile at you. You watch as he grins up at the ceiling, pinching the flesh of your hips.
You lift yourself and shift Joel’s body down lower on the sofa, purchasing his cock so he rests in your folds. You move your hips so his tip nudges at your clit, your pussy lubricating him with your release. Joel grunts at the sensation, with just the rubbing of your cunt on his cock has him rocking his hips under you, drawing him closer to where he needs you.
You shudder above him, and all Joel can do is watch you intensely. Waiting for that exact moment where your pussy engulfs his tip and your thighs start falling. But in his impatient state, it doesn’t come, you just continue to stroke yourself on him. And it’s the sound of your voice that pulls him back to you.
“Is this what you want Joel?” Like you don’t already know. “You want this pussy to ride your cock?”
He ventures out and pulls you flush down onto his hips, but you refuse and hold yourself frozen in place, ushering your hand up and cupping his jaw in a firm grasp, constraining his face to look at you.
“You’re so impatient Joel,” your features teasing him just that little bit more. “Now. I want you to tell me. Tell me exactly what you want.”
He whines deep from the back of his throat, “fuck sweetheart—” His breathings nonexistent, completely knocked out and winded, firm hands biting down hard on your waist, “I need you. Wanna feel you wrapped around me. Wanna make you come on my cock. Fuck I need it—please.”
You lower your pussy until his head is fully shielded inside you, lusting over that new stretch of his cock spreading you out. You take control of your movements, wanting Joel to feel all of you at a restrained pace, to take all of you in.
Joel strives to gain back some of the strength you’ve swept out of him, and fuck you did it so easily, plunging your hips down so your cunt takes more of him, and his thighs pushing upwards to meet you halfway.
Joel’s wrecked under you the moment his cock feels the comfort of your cunt. His face falling into your hot chest, and in an instant, you’re welcoming him as you knot your hands into the back of his curls.
He feels fucking incredible; he’s so hard and thick and even with his fingers before, the pull his cock gives you is such a painful pleasure. It makes your pussy burn, fluttering from that hot sting as his cock reaches heaven and smooths that spot inside you that has you seeing white stars behind your eyelids.
The back of your legs make contact with his thighs, and you’re pining at the fullness, “fuck Joel—oh my god.”
Joel musters up a chant of fuck fuck fuck with every inch of his thickness filling you to the brim. He grits his teeth down hard, pulling in his lip and almost drawing blood, needing to stop himself from becoming too into you too fast as his body flavours your tightened walls around his cock.
You can feel his breath heat the skin on your chest, his tone muffled by his lips kissing the flesh of your breast, “fuck baby—shit you feel…“
You keep your pussy flushed on his lengh, pulling his hair through your fingers making him wince from the tug. He lifts his marks from your chest and brings your mouth down to melt into his, only then to take his touch off of yours and pierce into your eyes.
He wants to tell you that he feels on cloud nine. He wants to say how beautiful he thinks you are, how he’d never be able to go a minute without having you like this, and not only intimately but just to have you so close to him, to have you so near. How you’ve made him question all his past decisions.
So he tells you the honest truth, “…perfect. Christ sweetheart you feel perfect. Like y’made for me.”
You become embarrassed by his words, and rewarding him with a swirl of your hips, testing your body to see if your cunt has yet adjusted to his thickness. His fingers felt incredible but it doesn’t compare to having his cock buried inside you. You can feel how your walls pull him in so well, your slick and a mixture of his own arousal making his cock glide so simply in and out of you.
You pull your hips up with shaky legs, so only half of his cock’s shielded inside you and drop back down slowly, repeating the action until you have to bear yourself, feeble hands being placed on his knees, arching your back as your head faces the ceiling.
He has you everywhere; hands gripping your hips and waist, his contact moving up your ribs to the curve of your breast and neck, touching as much of you as he can.
Your pussy throbs and latches down hard on his cock, Joel’s mind unable to focus on nothing but the squeeze. “Shit baby,” he curses quietly, “y’so fucking tight.”
You look back at him, voice mellow and movements evenly paced, “yeah? Does this pussy feel good? It’s all yours Joel,” you promise him, “fuck it’s all for you.”
Your assurance go straight through his body and down his length, which starts to throb inside you at how true your words are, your confidence emitting straight onto him. He looks at every inch of you, taking his time to fully appreciate what’s in front of him, to admire what’s on top of him; the way your chest lifts and falls with every ragged breath, breast sensitive to his fingers and mouth, the way your whimpers fill the room, your body covered in sweat that makes your skin glisten.
And that’s when he notices a change in your attitude, dropping your guard just a smidge as you continue to move your hips but now at a hurried pace. Your hands are suddenly needy and attentive, your words now imploring, “fuck Joel. I need you—,” you beg him.
“What baby,” he says, his tone low, “tell me. Shit—tell me what you want.”
You need him deeper, you need him harder, fucking all of himself into you until you can’t walk the next day, until the second orgasm he brings out of you has your head dizzy with just the thoughts of him.
“I need…,” you mumble, “Joel I need it harder. Please fuck me. I want it hard.”
Yes he can do that. So he stops your movements, ready to give you what you need. “Okay darlin’. Fuck— yeah okay.”
His stare is firm and direct, and all you can summon is a weakened nod and a pull at his shoulders, beckoning him to swap positions.
You cage your arms around his neck to keep a firm hold of him, whilst Joel puts his one hand down onto the sofa and the other on your back, carefully lifting his weight off his hips and crashing the both of your body’s onto the sofa, his cock remaining nestled in you warm walls.
He sets his one foot onto the floor and the others bent by your side, giving himself that extra leverage and strength while he holds himself up by his palms, his mass adding pressure onto the cushion below.
He soothes, coasting his touch over and pinching all of you, his hands sending bolts of electricity down to your core, your legs wrapping around his lower back to keep him condensed and up close.
Every thrust of his hips has your back lifting off the sofa, his cock continuously hitting that spot inside you, his tip nudging that knot cramping in your stomach and pulling a gasp from your throat.
He looks down and regrets it the moment his eyes stare at where you’re connected. His chokes on his breath and his thrust stall, not trusting another pull of his hips in your cunt knowing too well he could come quickly and shamefully. His pays attention to how his cocks covered in your wetness, saturating his skin and the hair on his pubic region.
You force his head up from where his eyes are frozen, moving his attention to you, “look at me Joel…,” you beckon, “look at me when you fuck me.”
And he listens. Even though he’s the one on top of you, he’s listening to you. He watches you with a desired expression as he observes the pure ecstasy flourishing through your features.
He knows you’re about to come, he can feel it wrapped all around his cock. It’s that same feeling of your cunt fluttering on his fingers just moments ago, when he watched that pleasure take over your body, and when he let you ride it out in slow and steady waves. But only this time, it’s so much more intense. And this time, it lunges his own orgasm forward.
Fuck he needs you to come. Like, right now.
Somehow, it’s like you’ve read his mind, finally jumbling out your words, “f-uck Joel. I’m close. Fuck I’m so so close.”
He’s barely holding on, arms juddering and stomach clenching to keep himself from spilling his release inside of you, needing you to finish before him.
“Give it to me darlin’,” Joel pleads, “that’s it—let me feel ya. Let me feel you come around me.”
His words are what you need to break, you begin to to pulse and convulse around his hard length, arms dragging him down as you breast compress into his sticky chest, weak arms holding onto his shoulder blades.
The feeling of your pussy coming around him has his hips faltering. Joel has no fucking idea how he’s lasted this long, his own legs shaking and his eyebrows furrowing in concentration, “fuck darlin’ I’m gonna—” his forehead connects with yours, “fuck y’gonna make me come.”
Once your high has substantially subsided, and his thrusts have you riding out every flood of pleasure thats washed over you, your mind can take into his words as you place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Please Joel,” landing another kiss onto the side of his mouth, “come Joel—fuck I want it inside. Want you to fill me up.”
Surely he’s not hearing correctly, his ears ringing and heavy heartbeat blocking all noise around him.
His movements become delayed, his voice cracking, “y’sure darlin’?” Fuck let that be what you said, because he’d do anything to come inside you right now. To stay nestled in your cunt for as long as he possibly can. “Is that what you want?”
Your eyes are glazed over, tears threatening to spill down the sides of your face, “yes Joel,” you cry out, “please come in me. Wanna feel it.”
“Christ,” he huffs, his breath hot and heating the already reddish flush on your cheeks, “okay—fuck okay I’ll come inside you baby.”
You intentionally clench your walls around him, digging your heels into his lower back to keep him deep and as close to you as possible. You keep that up until Joel warns you, mumbling your name before a oh shit I’m coming, fuck I’m coming. And with a few more thrusts of his hips they slow down, his high taking possession of his body, his seed filling you up.
“That’s its Joel. Fill me up.” Your words prolonging his orgasm, feeling his warm come coat your walls and his cock twitching with each spurt of his release.
His thrusts come to a hilt, finishing off with one final quick and deep thrust before all of his body weight lands on top of you, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.
You feel so full of him. The way his body is hefty on top of yours, his mind oblivious to his own weight as he squashes you deep into the sofa. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. Once he has dominance of his own body again and gathers enough energy to, he pulls his softening cock out of your hole with a groan, his release dripping out of you.
He wraps his arms around you, changing the position so you’re now back on top, your head now lying on his chest and your legs becoming tangled together.
You both lie there in silence, the sound of Joel’s heart and his overall warmth across your skin has your eyes feeling heavy. You dig your chin into his peck, giving him a gentle smile, “y’feeling okay Joel?”
“I’m okay darlin’, he soothes, running his hand through your hair, “I’m more than okay.”
He kisses your lips, eyes looking back down at you, his voice coming out small. “Listen darlin’, I never meant to ignore you. It’s just…I haven’t felt this way in a long fuckin’ time and I know there’s nothing I can say to—“
“Joel stop—,” you place your finger on his lips, shushing him before he can say anything further.
“We don’t need to talk about that now,” you say, “that’s all in the past. And all I want you to know is that I understand, and it’s okay. We’re okay.”
He nods at you, grabbing ahold of the blanket that rested on the top of the couch, pulling it over your body to keep the warmth in.
You always know just what to say, your words having his eyes easily falling shut with you all over his mind. He’s spent the last fortnight feeling shitty and regretful, struggling to get any sleep as he thinks about how much he’s hurt you. But right now with you resting on top of him, and with soft snores leaving your lips, he knows he’ll never have to worry about you again.
#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller one shot#joel miller x f!reader#the last of us smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal x f!reader#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#joel milller x female reader#pedro x reader#pedro
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How to (not) Study for an Anatomy Exam
Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!reader
Rating: Explicit (18+) Minors DNI
Length: 2.1k
You're in medical school with Shoko, but she's bailed on your group study session. Good thing an old friend turns up to help... Wait, what was the next chapter on, again?
Tags: Oral (m receiving), the awakening of a dom/sub dynamic, hair pulling, praise
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You pushed the eraser end of the pencil further into your brow, groaning as you forced yourself to read just one more page….. But, then again, this was also your fifth “last page” in a row. Shoko had abandoned your group study session hours ago to go out drinking, and your fatigue had finally set in.
“Ugh, maybe if I force myself to read it out loud,” you muttered, shifting restlessly.
“The amygdala is an integral part of the lim-” The door opened with a firm click, and you trailed off in surprise, dropping your head back against the couch pillow with an exasperated sigh.
“Satoru, I swear to god, if you interrupt me again, I will personally shove-”
A low chuckle interrupted your threat, “It’s just me. Please finish your sentence, though. That threat against Gojo did sound promising.”
You groaned, draping the heavy medical textbook over your face to hide the way your cheeks flushed at the sound. “Nanami, I thought you were working tonight.”
“I was,” he acknowledged. You could hear him walk across the room, and the couch cushion suddenly dipped with his additional weight. Nanami sighed and sat something down on the coffee table with an audible clink. You could hear the sound of a canned drink being opened, and the delicious, blessed scent of coffee filled the air.
Overly eager for the sweet, sweet hit of caffeine, you bolted upright fast enough to launch the textbook off your face. It fell and hit your thigh, drawing a slight whine from your lips as you snatched the coffee from Nanami’s outstretched hand. You raised it to your lips greedily, instantly downing most of it.
“I was working tonight, but I clocked out two hours ago,” he continued smoothly, “Do you know what time it is?”
You pressed the lip of the can to your chin, your expression mildly guilty as you purposefully avoided looking at your long-time friend. “I was only going to review one more chapter.”
Nanami simply picked his own can off the table and opened it. Your excuse had apparently fallen on deaf ears; he took a slow drink as you pouted, chuckling at the expression on your face. “Shoko texted me and asked me to come check on you. She hadn’t heard from you since she left.”
“We have an exam next week. I don’t know how she can be so carefree when there’s so much to learn,” you muttered. “I don’t need a babysitter just because I chose to study instead of going drinking.”
Slowly, Nanami reached out and placed his hand under your chin, tipping your head towards him. His expression was slightly cross, but you were preoccupied with much more important things. The dark suit your “long-time friend” wore fit him unfairly well, and seeing him dressed up only worsened the way you actually felt about him. You’d nursed a crush on him for years, and at this point, you were determined to take that secret to your grave.
The other glaringly obvious thing slipped out of your mouth before you could formulate a more intelligent sentence. “I… I can see your forehead now,” you stammered.
Nanami arched a single, golden eyebrow in mild amusement. “I got a haircut yesterday.”
You stared at him. The way his golden hair was swept back tugged at your already suffering heart; it was so mature, so achingly fitting for Nanami. It felt like a small eternity passed as your tired mind unraveled.
Were his shoulders always this broad? His eyes are such a beautiful color. Oh shit, his hand is under my chin still…. W-were they always this big? I wonder what they would feel like-
“One more chapter!” You squealed loudly, wishing you could trade your reverse curse technique in for the ability to phase through the floor. “One more chapter, and then I’ll take a break.”
“One more chapter, and then you’ll get some sleep,” Nanami corrected, removing his hand from your chin. You felt a small pang of disappointment at the loss of his touch, but you shrugged it off.
“Fine,” you conceded, mentally shoving the respectable, hard-working part of your brain back in charge.
Nanami settled back into his corner of the couch, taking another sip of his coffee. “Can I help you somehow? I have no idea how this type of studying works.”
He gestured vaguely at the stack of medical books, and you tried to stifle a giggle. “Here, you can quiz me using the pre-chapter questions.”
Nanami nodded, turning his focus to the textbook, and you flipped it open, happy to have him there to help you finish strong… until you were brutally reminded what the next chapter was. You blankly stared at the page titled “Male Reproductive Anatomy” until you closed the cover and stood without another word. Forget phasing through the floor; you wanted to teleport directly to the North Pole and never return.
“On second thought, I think I’ll just go to bed now,” You looked at the blank wall for moral support, face crimson red.
“I mean, I could still help you study… If you wanted..” He offered nonchalantly.
You whipped your head back around to look at Nanami, whose cheeks were dusted with pink. For a brief moment, he was blushing like the teenage boy you had once offered to share headphones with, but as he stood, his deep brown gaze locked into yours, and you could only see the calm, capable man he had grown into. “But I don’t think we will need the textbook.”
You nodded slowly, and Nanami wordlessly scooped all of your textbooks and study materials into his arms. The two of you made the trip up the stairs to your room in record time. He shoved everything onto your desk haphazardly, opting to take you into his arms instead.
“How long?” He murmured, his deep coffee-colored gaze full of warmth, a warmth you suddenly realized that Nanami had always reserved for you. “How long have we tip-toed around this?”
You shivered despite the heat of his body as the man you’d loved for years cradled you like a precious flower. His large hands gently rubbed your back, coaxing a sigh from your lips.
“Too long,” you whispered as you pressed your lips to his. It was gentle, almost reverent at first, and Nanami sighed, deep and rumbling, as he pulled you even closer. Your lips parted briefly before meeting again, the embrace growing more passionate by the second.
Nanami kissed you like he was trying to commit your taste to his memory like he’d simply die without your lips against his. You were no less eager, reaching up to cup his jaw and pressing your other hand against the swell of his bicep.
Growing bolder, you maneuvered him back until the back of his knees hit your desk chair. Nanami took the hint, parting from the embrace to undo his suit jacket and sit. He gazed up at you, eyes half-lidded and hazy with lust, and grinned lazily. “C’mere then.”
He reached out to pull you onto his lap, but you sidestepped with a wink. Instead, you opted to sink onto your knees, silently delighted by the way his eyes widened in surprise. Ever so slowly, you nudged his legs apart and crawled between them to rest your cheek against his knee. You hummed playfully, tilting your head up to smile at him innocently, “I thought you wanted to help me study… I think I can do that better from here.”
Nanami dropped his head back against the chair, swearing under his breath. He looped a finger into his tie and quickly ripped it off. It fell to the side unceremoniously, and your grin grew at his usual composure beginning to crack.
You stroked the inside of his leg with your nails, using just enough pressure for Nanami to feel the touch through his suit pants. He shuddered, and a wicked thought popped into your mind. You grinned again, “Or, if you’ve changed your mind, I could always ask Gojo. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
It was an incredibly empty threat; you both knew that, but it still served its intended purpose. The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Nanami sat up, his gaze dark and intense as he leaned down to caress your jaw. The touch would’ve been warm and affectionate at any other time, but this one was slow, controlled, and achingly possessive.
“Should’ve known you’d be a fucking tease.” He growled, and the words shot straight to your core. Nanami slowly hooked his thumb over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, forcing them to part. You drew in a shaky breath, and it was his turn to smile.
“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was silken, dangerously quiet. Sparks of molten pleasure flooded your body, and your brain went fuzzy as you nodded. Nanami slipped the rough pad of his thumb over your tongue, slowly stroking it, toying with you as he thought for a moment. You whimpered involuntarily at the initial press of his thick finger, fighting off the urge to lave your tongue over it. He'd almost seem disinterested if you didn’t know him so well, but you could see his eyes glitter with a potent mix of approval and lust.
Nanami paused the movement of his thumb but left it in place to weigh down your tongue. He tenderly shushed your whine of protest and continued to speak, “If you’re good and finish your studying tonight, I’ll reward you….”
More white-hot pleasure coiled in your stomach, and your pussy throbbed in response. “Mmmmmhmmm,” you managed around his thumb, looking up at him with your best doe eyes.
He chuckled again, pulling his thumb out and smearing the leftover wetness across your lips. You eyed the obvious strain of his erection greedily, reaching forward to trace its outline. Nanami groaned, his cock twitching even with the slight pressure. “Eager for this, pretty girl?”
“You have no idea,” you murmured, quickly undoing his belt and pulling his clothing aside just enough to free his thick cock. You bit your lip as you watched the swollen, leaking tip brush against the material of his dress shirt, leaving a tiny smear of precum on the fabric. Nanami hissed at the sensation, tangling one of his large hands in your hair, partially to hold your hair back and partially desperate for something to ground him. You moved even closer to his lap, leaning down to lap at his cockhead.
He moaned outright at the first touch of your tongue; you began to explore every agonizingly beautiful inch of him, teasing his shaft with your fingers and plush lips. Nanami’s hand dug into your hair as you swirled your tongue around his tip and swiped it over the top to lap up his pre-cum. His hand clenched reflexively at the blinding pleasure, pulling your hair harshly without even meaning to.
Nanami froze, about to apologize profusely, but you moaned wantonly, plush lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock. He cursed and barked out a low laugh as the vibrations shot straight through him, “Fuck, I didn’t mean to…. Did you like that?”
You nodded as vigorously as you could manage, taking his cock even further into your mouth and nestling his swollen tip snugly into the pouch of your cheek. Drool fell from your lips, trailing down your chin as your tongue laved over his shaft, but you were far too gone to care. You cupped his heavy balls through the fabric of his expensive underwear, massaging them, and Nanami almost came on the spot.
He twitched and groaned, breath heavy and uneven as you utterly destroyed the normally stoic man. Nanami ran his other hand back through his hair, his breathing heavy as he took a minute to appreciate the sight of you drunk on his cock.
His balls tightened almost painfully, and Nanami moaned again, low and needy. “Need to stop…. Gonna cu-”
You shot him an incredibly devious, lust-filled look before pulling away and opening your mouth, sticking out your tongue to catch every drop. Nanami hissed at the sight, stroking his shaft furiously. It only took a few more seconds for him to fall apart with a strangled cry, his cum painting your mouth pearly white. His hands slowly pumped up and down, milking the remnants of his orgasm onto your pretty, pink tongue.
“You’re perfect…. gorgeous…. a goddess… mine now.” Nanami panted.
Your pussy fluttered as you watched him fall apart, and you ground your thighs together, desperate to find some relief from the ache in your core as you made a small show of swallowing. Nanami only took a few seconds to scoop you up from the floor and deposit you on the bed.
“Do I get my reward now?” You teased, voice slightly hoarse.
Nanami looked at you, his brown eyes filled with such sincerity that your heart fluttered. “I’m going to spoil you until you’re sick of me.”
Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @belle-smith07 @orangecremepuff @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @Msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty
#nanami kento#kento nanami#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#nanami smut#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut
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Could you do an enemies to lovers one shot where obi has been in love with the reader for a while but she doesn’t know it?
And I wouldn’t mind some spice please hehe
AHHHH this request is perfect!! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write this one up, but I hope you enjoy reading it!!
(I am open to taking any requests, head to my masterlist to read more about it :))
Room 24
Angsty, smutty lil Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader enemies to lovers one shot where he fell for the reader first!
Warnings: a little arguing here and there, but we love a jealous Kenobi moment
Words: 8,900ish
If you could gather every emotion you felt towards Obi Wan Kenobi, you were almost certain you’d be left with a burning heap of seething hot hatred – almost.
Ever since your first interaction all those years ago, you - young and naïve, heart hammering in your chest as were introduced to your peers inside the Jedi Temple for the first time, and him – a lean short haired boy with platted stand of hair falling down his neck, disapproving stare watching your ever move as you were welcomed into the group of young Jedi’s– you knew that Obi Wan Kenobi was going to be anything but your friend.
The more time you spent around him, the more you were able to register his arrogance. How he always stuck to his allegiance, leaving little room for mistakes. Before you, he was always top of the class, earning the position of one of the most skilled and wise Jedi’s for his age, but all that changed the day you arrived on Coruscant.
Although you were slightly younger than your peers and were considerably inexperienced, you refused to let that stop you, you using your gifted skills to quickly climb to the top, soaring above those who’d been in the same field as you for far longer than you have.
And that angered Obi Wan to no extent. The same Council members who once showered him with endless praise, bringing him alongside missions that were far out of the league of his peers, were now giving you – someone who just less than a year prior had no knowledge of what a Jedi even was – the same treatment.
He couldn’t understand how you did it, and for that his hatred towards you grew. Sure, you were skilled, you could yield a lightsaber well, your aim with blasters was precise, and your bond with the force was as strong as his, but how you were able to achieve his level of expertise in the time you’d been there left him baffled.
As the years passed, you grew to know each other quite well – you know what they say, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. You’d keep a close eye on him during missions, watching the muscles on his arms flex as he’d wave the glowing saber in defense, face stern and focused, and in return, he’d do the same, studying the patterns of your fighting style, the way your chest heaved as the loose strands of hair would cascade onto your face with each spin and duck.
You both unraveled each other's perks and quirks and seen one another in the best and worst of times, yet no matter how well one of you knew the other, the hatred was always there, evident and unwavering, you both making it known to each other that hate was the only emotion you held for one another – nothing else.
And it always remained that way... that was until Obi Wan came to the realisation that maybe his feelings were a masquerade for something much deeper
On a night when the moons shone brightly above the Jedi Temple when half of the Council returned from an off-planet meeting, Obi Wans Padawan Anakin was solemnly waiting for his Master's return in their shared apartment when a sudden uproar caught his attention. He traced the shouting to the entrance of the room, opening the door of their living quarters to find his Master and yourself standing opposite one another, an angered expression mirrored on both of your faces.
“... If you hadn’t been so selfish, I could’ve taken him out with ease” you shouted, one hand resting on your hip while the other poked at Kenobi’s chest.
“With ease? I’m starting to believe your delusions have reached new heights, because from my memory, they had you tied up to a post, wi-”
“But I got out! Freed myself! Something you would’ve seen if you weren’t so preoccupied trying to be the hero – again!”
“There’s a difference between trying to be a hero, and actually being one, something you wouldn’t kno-”
As amused as he was, Anakin stepped out of the doorway, yourself and Obi Wan falling silent once the Padawan made his presence known. Greeting yourself and his Master, he leant against the wall beside you both with a playful grin.
“If you wish to continue, I'd suggest taking this indoors. People do want to get some sleep at night, believe it or not”
Just as Obi Wan began to scold his Padawan, you interrupted, your feet dragging you backwards slowly as you spoke, “No need. It’s pointless trying to get through to him anyway. Goodnight, Anakin”
Pushing past the young boy beside him, Obi Wan walked through the entrance of his home, his blood boiling as he stormed towards the loungeroom, seating himself on the couch as his head fell into the palms of his hands.
Anakin wasn’t far behind, him resting on the arm of the opposite couch from the one Obi Wan was seated on, the amusement evident in his voice as he broke the silence.
“Well... that was interesting”
“Not now Anakin!”
“Hey, I haven’t done anything wrong, Master. If anything, you should be thanking me. It really was quite the disturbance you both were causing out the-”
“I said not now! I’ve had enough of this for tonight”
“She really knows how to get under your skin, doesn’t she? I’m starting to think she’s worse than me”
“Anakin” Obi Wan warned, his head lifting from his hands to stare at the boy before him.
“You’re always together. Always arguing. And you both get so riled up with one another. It’s as if you’re... like you’re couple that’s been in a marriage for all your life”
“I’m being quite serious Anakin, if you don-”
“It seems as if you're so disapproving you are of her. Which is strange because she’s good at what she does. She’s a great Jedi. Maybe you’re just jealous of her-”
“Anakin, that’s en-”
“Or maybe you’re in love with her, that could be it too” Anakin joked, a snort of laughter escaping his lungs.
Without saying another word, Obi Wan rose from his seat, brushing past the boy who had broken out in a fit of laughter, breathy apologies falling from his lips as he watched his Master disappear into his bedroom, where he wouldn’t appear from until the next morning.
Yet that night, Obi Wan barely got a wink of sleep, his heart hammering endlessly in his chest as Anakin's words combined with ghostly images of you swirled around his thoughts, the realisation of the truth within Anakin's lighthearted words haunting him till the sun rose the next day.
All this time Obi Wan was wrong. His deep-rooted obsession with you, his need to watch you whenever you’re within his vision, his desire to hear the rise of your voice when he pushes your buttons - he buttons only he knew how to push – wasn’t from a place of hatred. No, it was from a place of love. All this time he’d loved someone he swore to be his own personal enemy.
Yet, he refused to cave into his emotions. Keeping the guarded front of hatred up whenever you were near.
He repeatedly told himself it was because loving someone was against the Jedi code. That if he followed the true desires of his heart, everything he worked so hard for would be torn from him instantly. He’d have no purpose, no guidance, no home. And for that, resenting you somehow became easier, because he wouldn’t allow you to take that all away from him. But deep down, in a place he struggled to keep hidden, he was terrified of your true emotions, that if you were to reveal his true desire for you, you’d reject him, using his one weakness – his emotions for you - against him.
And for that, he kept up the false front, his behavior towards you unwavering, because hating you was far easier than loving you.
However, sometimes he didn’t have to continuously remind himself of that fact, Anakin's suggestion of you getting under his skin an obvious truth as he lost sight of you, his vision darting in each direction as he spun himself in a full 360 in the middle of the busy pathway.
Obi Wan and yourself were currently paired together on an assignment, one that could've been easily palmed off to Kenobi and his Padawan if it wasn’t for the younger boy being in recovery after having himself injured on their last mission.
The goal for the assignment was simple. There had been rumors floating around the temple of an underground club storing illegal weapons, which itself wouldn’t be an issue because as far as you were aware, half the clubs on Coruscant held their own illegal weapons, but once word spread that a group of bounty hunters were seeking to purchase the weapons, the Council decided to step in, hence yourself and Obi Wan being sent on the mission.
And it seemed simple. Disguise yourself as anything other than a pair of Jedi, go into the club, seek out the location of the stored weaponry, alert the Counsil of its whereabouts, and leave. Easy. The entire assignment could be finished in under an hour. Yet the moment you dressed yourself in the disguised outfit, you slipping into the thin fabric of the floor length black dress, you decided you wanted to make the most of the night out, allowing yourself to have a bit more fun than the Council would’ve intended you on having.
Obi Wan spun himself to the brink of dizziness when he finally paused, his eyes landing on your open back dress facing away from him as you stood at the entrance of a stall, you passing the man a handful of credits in exchange for the wide scarf.
Groaning in annoyance, Obi Wan weaved his way through the crowded night market, him overhearing your thanks to the shop keep as he finally reached you, you turning to face him right as he approached you.
“A scarf?” he questioned, his eyes lingering on your face as he took in your amused expression.
“I needed it” you replied, pushing past his tense frame as you began walking into the crowd once more. He watched as you slid the fabric across your arms, the width of it draping down your spine covering majority of your back, leaving a small slither of your skin exposed at the base of your dress, his eyes locked onto your flesh as you wandered off before it clicked that you were wandering off, him quickly jogging to catch up with you.
“You know” he huffed, “we do have an assignment to complete”
“And tell me, do we have a specific time frame required to complete this mission?”
“...No, however it wou-”
“No time frame means no need to rush” you said with raised eyebrows as you turned to look at Obi Wan, his eyes squinting as he faced forwards.
“I think it would be rather beneficial to get this over and done with”
“Why? Have you got somewhere better to be, Kenobi?”
“Well, no. But I'd pref-”
“Then we can take as long as we need. Besides, how often is it that we get to leisure like this out of the Temple? Well, I can only speak on my own behalf. I don’t care for whatever slacking off you do in your free time”
“I do not ‘slack off’. Unlike some people, I take my role seriously”
“If I didn’t take my role seriously, they wouldn’t have chosen me to be on this assignment, would’ve they?”
“Only because Anakin's not here” Obi Wan mumbled under his breath just loud enough for you to hear, causing an angry warmth beneath your skin to flare up, your face snapping to meet the man beside yours once more.
“And why isn’t your Padawan here? Maybe if his Master knew know how to provide adequate guidance, he wouldn’t have to resort to the medical bay once a week!”
Obi Wan ignored your verbal jab, his eyes glancing at the rows of stalls as you both continued through the market, triumph slowly building inside you at his lack of a comeback until he redirected his walk to cut directly in front of you, his words a whisper as he passed your frame.
“Say’s the Jedi without their own Padawan”
“Hey!” you called, his feet quickening due to the clearing of the crowds as he headed towards the markets exit. Fastening your own pace, you caught up with him, prepared to argue back to his statement before he hushed you, his movements coming to a halt.
“That's our destination. Master Yoda believes the weapons are stored on-”
“The first or second floor beneath the club. I know. Might I remind you, I'm also on the Council” you stated, your shoulder bumping his as you passed him and began to draw closer to the entrance of the building when you felt a firm grasp around your wrist, stopping you from any further movements.
“Don’t you... Wouldn’t it be best to think of a plan before walking in there?”
“We already have a plan” You sighed in annoyance, you now facing him while his fingers remained wrapped around your skin.
“But what if were questioned?”
“We won’t be”
“We need to be on the same page if they questio-”
“We won’t be”
“If we get caught, and you begin some-”
“Kenobi! I’m telling you we will not be caught! Can you just trust me for once?!”
His eyes widened in shock, his raised eyebrows furrowing after a moment's silence, a burst of air leaving his nostrils as he did a firm nod, his hand falling from yours as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“Fine... But if a single thing goes south-” he started, you huffing as you turned your back to him and marched towards the entrance of the club, Obi Wan following you behind as you neared the tinted glass doors reflecting the neon flashing signs of the streets above.
Approaching the entrance, the two doors slide open, revealing the dim lights and bassy instrumental echoing within the club. You scanned the room as you entered it, your nose scrunching at the faded colored curtains draping across each wall and the clouds of thin smoke wafting across the roof, your eyes falling on the grim looking creature perched behind the reception desk.
You slowed your pace until Obi Wan was standing beside you when you suddenly slid your arm beneath his, your arms interlocked drawing you closer to one another as you inched towards the reception desk. You could feel his confused gaze burning into the side of your face, but you ignored it, your face remaining emotionless as you approached the creature at the desk.
“Reservation for 4-16" you spoke clearly, Obi Wans eyes now bouncing between yours and the creatures.
“Name?” the being mumbled, his hands gliding across the vibrant hologram raised on the surface of the desk.
“Waters” you replied, your voice stern as you watched his fingers dance across the glitchy lights, him tapping a few times before humming in approval, his bulging eyes returning to yours as he spoke.
“You’re cleared. Pleasure to have you back, Miss Waters”
Without looking back, you directed Obi Wan into the club, the two of you heading towards the row of ceiling high booth without saying a word. Unlinking your arm from his, you shimmied yourself into the booth, Obi Wan following behind you, seating himself a foot away from you.
“Care to explain?”
“I told you to trust me” you said unphased as you flattered out the fabric across your stomach.
“Who is Miss Waters?” he pushed, him continuing to glare at you, you picking up on the sense that he wouldn't drop this topic without answers.
“A fake name, clearly” you answered shortly, your eyes looking anywhere besides the man next to you who was growing more agitated by the minute, you jumping in your seat at the sudden sensation of his hand on your knee.
“This is a shared mission! I’m required to know what you’re doing, so if need be, I can be in on whatever this is as well”
Your head snapped to face him, your voice low yet firm as you quickly replied.
“For the last time, I told you to trust me! And if you don’t, there’s no use for you being here. You know where the door is, or do you need help finding it?”
Before he had the chance to reply, both of your heads turned to face the slim figure that was approaching your booth with a friendly smile, you forcing your cheeks to rise as you mirrored their joyous emotion.
“Miss Waters, it’s been quite some time! How has life been treating you?”
“Same old, you know how it is. And you?”
“Busy. But it’s good to see a familiar face” he said, bending slightly to place a tray of assorted fruits and four glasses of a smokey green liquid on the table.
“Oh... Grolo, this really isn’t necessary for tonight”
“Nonsense, it’s on the house” Grolo replied before stepping backwards, his hands crossing as he nodded while speaking, “Room 24 is prepared to your liking for when you’re ready. You two enjoy your evening”
You waited until Grolo disappeared from your eyesight before you raised your palms to your face, your heart beginning to beat slightly quicker from the conversation, you truly wanting to remain unexposed from the man beside you.
“So... Familiar face, huh?”
“Kenobi” you warned, you shielding your eyes from the world around you with your palms, Obi Wans own palm still resting on your knee.
“And what’s this ‘room 24’?”
“None of your business, that’s what it is”
“But it will be... once the Council is notified about the cheat that is lying under their noses”
Your breath caught in your throat at his words, a sudden anger sparking inside you as you dropped your hands, your body shifting to face the man beside you.
“If you even think about speaking a word of this to them, I'll shatter each glass on this table and force it down your throat!”
Leaning back against the fabric of the booth, he brought one hand to his beard, scaping it slowly as he watched you, while the other slid an inch up your skin, unwavering from its position as he pushed, “Then confess whatever it is that you’re hiding about this place, what you’re hiding about yourself”
You wanted to call him out on his bluff, wanted to believe that he wouldn’t speak a word of what he’s already witnessed to the Council – wanted to trust him – yet you knew you couldn’t, you fully aware of his devotion to his job. So you leaned forward, grabbing two of the four drinks in front of you and bringing them to your lips, you shotting one after another like the liquid had no burning aftertaste, you in desperate need of any confidence boost for what you’re about to tell the man you resented the most.
“Fuck. Fine. This...” you started, pausing momentarily with hesitation, Obi Wans eyes lingering on your face as you sighed, “This all began quite some time ago now.”,
“Master Yoda caught word of a potential bounty passing though this area of Coruscant every few nights. He knew it was too risky himself to check the area out, so he sent me”,
“His intentions were to get any information on the man. If the potential bounty belonged to a gang, if he had a following, who he was involved with. I came here, unsure if the bounty would even step foot in this place, with no indication on how to secure the information Yoda wanted”
“And the mission was successful?” Kenobi asked, his hand still raking through the hairs on his chin.
You nodded, swallowing the nerves building inside your tightening throat from what you were confessing for the first time.
“Call it intuition, or even the Force, but he ended up coming here. I sparked a conversation, and he fell right into my trap. I knew it was too risky to use any of my... Force abilities. So I tried something else, and it worked after some time. He told me what I needed to know, and I reported it all-”
“What was it?”
“What was what?”
“Your method. Possibly spiking of his drink? I wouldn’t put that past you-”
“Seduction, actually” you spat, your features lifting with your matter-of-fact tone while his jumped in shock, a small cough escaping his mouth as he suddenly leaned forward, the hand that was resting on your leg now shooting across the table to grab ahold of one of the remaining drinks.
“Seeing how successful it was” you continued, a half smiling tugging at your lips from the surprise your statement caused, “I decided to come back and try it again on a different occasion. And that’s how it started. The more I came here, the more potential threats would walk through those doors – Grolo’s bar being sort of a... hot spot, I guess, for people who want to remain unseen. I’d buy each one a drink here and there, enough for them to lose track of what they’re saying, sweet talk them the way a man like them would want to be spoken to, and suddenly the information I'd want would pour out of them. Easily”
“But why do it if it wasn’t necessary?”
“Because it kept me one step ahead. I attained information no other Council member had. Their confessions helped me out on multiple missions. I know who's connected to who, and who to avoid, where these people stay, what threats they pose. Besides, you and I both know how slowly the Council can move at times. I’ve just pushed myself to have a head start”
“So you’d... seduce these... men into giving you information, out of your own will?”
“Yes, Kenobi. I did” you said, your eyes switching from his face to the single drink remaining, you leaning forwards to grab it, your pulse jumping as you pretending to ignore the way Obi Wans eyes watched your moving frame, “But nothing I've done is against the Jedi code, nor is it a crime”
“Not yet. You’re yet to inform me about this ‘room 24’”
You remained silent as you rested back into the seat, you bringing the drink to your lips as your eyes lingered on Obi Wans, your stomach beginning to churn at the thought of you sharing your deepest secret to the man you’d wish to keep your secret from most.
“Or you can tell the rest of the Council themselves, I'm sure they’d love to know” he said, his tone flat as he slowly began shuffling himself out of the booth, you immediately snapping your hand to wrap around his forearm stopping him in his tracks.
“Don’t! Just... Believe me, Obi Wan, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be”
“And why should I have faith in your words? You can’t even tell me what is that you’re hiding, how can I trust that!”
“Okay... Just sit, please”
With a small huff, he returned to his previous position, spinning himself around to face the bar behind him, arm waving towards the empty tray on the table before adjusting himself to face you once more, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he did so.
“If you’re going to make me stay, I might as well make it worth my while” he said coolly as one of the bartenders approached the booth with a full tray of drinks, swiftly placing it on the table, replacing the now empty one. He reached forward, his body barely lifting from the back of the seat as he grabbed the glass, his eyes looking deeply into yours as he took a sip causing the pits of your stomach to ignite with warmth. “Now finish the story, or I'm leaving. Don’t make me regret this decision” he said, following with your name at the end of the sentence.
You wanted to push him, tease him about how precious the Council was to him, but you bit your tongue as you drowned the rest of your drink fully knowing there was no way out of the hole you unwillingly dug yourself in.
Here goes nothing.
“I was here every few weeks, doing the same routine. But... one night, things sort of changed. This scoundrel from Coruscant's south, no matter how hard I pushed, he gave no information on what I wanted to know. At first, I was in control, but the more we consumed, the more I... drifted from my purpose. Things started to take a turn, and... well, one thing led to another, and we... you know. I didn’t end up getting the information I wanted out of him, so when I came back, I tried again with someone who had connections to the scoundrel, but I was met with the same fate. After that, my purpose for coming to this side of town had a... different meaning”
As the words left your lips, Obi Wans entire demeaner shifted, his relaxed composure becoming stiff, his jaw locked with tension as his eyes glared at you, a pit of rage boiling within him at your confession. Yet he kept himself together, trying to attain his burning jealousy as you continued your story.
“Grolo, whenever I'd return, he’d allow me to stay in a room here with these... people. Room 24. He had trust in me, because I'd brought in good revenue for him with all my previous assignments, and he refused each man from leaving the next morning without covering the bill for the night's stay. We build sort of an understanding, a bond – myself and Grolo. I supplied him with customers, he supplied me with a free room”
Concluding your confession, you released the deep breath you didn’t know you were holding back, you shotting the remainder of your drink before speaking once more, “That's all it is, Obi Wan. I’m not a criminal, or a cheat to the Council, so you can drop the need you so desperately have to inform the Council of any of this”
You both sat in a momentary silence, your heart hammering in your chest as you waited for any sort of response from Kenobi, his silence out of character. Yet your pulse was met with a match, Obi Wan feeling as though his own heart was bound to leap out of his chest any moment due to the spiraling anger within him. Images began to play in his mind of the story you shared, flashes of your naked frame entangled with another - someone who wasn’t him - blinding his vision entirely, him taking no note of the rattling glass in his hand until the soft call of his named tore him from his thoughts.
“... Obi Wan?” you mumbled, your hand reaching out towards him, your fingers barely grazing his skin before he pulled back, his voice a sharp slice as he spat his words.
“You’re unbelievable!”
“I’m sorry?” you questioned, your already hammering heart going into overdrive from his outburst.
“Are you in some state of delusion? You’d be foolish to believe any of this is okay”
"What are you... I told you I've done noth-”
“There's something in this lifestyle you’re hiding amongst that you truly desire. These relations, you want them more than you’re allowing yourself to believe. You’ve gone against me-… Against the Jedi Code. I thought you were smarter than this, but clearly, I was wrong about you”
Absorbing his belittlement, your shock was quickly switched to anger, you hurt that he was speaking to you this way after you opened to him for the first time about something nobody else knew, something that you would’ve never had spoken on if it wasn’t for his threats in the first place.
“Don’t try and act as though you’re innocent, Obi Wan, like you’ve never had some fun before. We all remember whatever it was that happened between yourself and Dutchess Satine!” The Dutchess’s name on your tongue left a sour after taste, a quick flash of memories passing through your mind as you spoke, images of Obi Wan watching the woman fondly, her arm entwined with his and they walked together, the memory so bitter in your mind that it only added fuel to your already wild flame.
“What you’re doing is incomparable to that. It was a moment of clouded judgement, of weakness. It was a half-whited act, but nowhere near as close to what you’ve been doing”
“My business is different!” The alcohol you’d consumed began to take full effect, you unaware of just how loud you were both shouting at one another until you noticed the turning of heads surrounding the booth, various eyes falling on yourself and Obi Wan.
“And how is that?!”
“You formed an attachment, I didn’t! You got entangled with emotions, I'm only after momentary fulfillment!”
“You are surely blinded! This is outrag-”
You weren’t sure what pushed you over the edge – possibly the heat flushed against your cheeks or the tears beginning to well behind your eyes - but you finally got fed up with the ongoing argument, you swiftly rising from the seat, your body swaying slightly as you shuffled yourself towards the exit of the booth.
Before you had the chance to walk off, you felt a forceful grip suddenly wrap around your wrist, his soft plea for you to stop barely audible as you cut him off immediately, snatching your arm from his as you spat back, “Don’t!”
Shocked expressions were blurred around you as you stormed off, the effort of not allowing your hot tears to spill over blocking out the calling pleas of your name from behind you. You repeatedly attempted deep breaths as you pushed your way around passing creatures, your shaky hands a direct result of the alcohol and adrenaline cocktail flowing through your bloodstream.
Muscle memory navigated you through the various hallways leading you towards the back rooms, your fingers dancing along the keypad of the door you knew too well, a small flash of green blinking before the door unlocked, you pushing the steel frame open. Immediately you were welcomed with dim lighting, the smell of vanilla wafting through your nose as you waved your hands towards your face, your palms cuffing your eyes as you exhaled sharply.
For a few quiet moments, you stayed in that position, the fire inside you putting up a continuous fight towards your attempt of calming yourself, you completely unaware of the presence that had joined you in the room until you heard the thunder of the steel door forcefully closing behind you causing you to rapidly twirl in shock, your hands ripping from your eyes as they connected with the blue eyes glairing back at you.
You watched each other in silence, the anger within you sparking up at the sight of him, your previous attempts at becoming calmer thrown out the window within seconds. As his eyes scanned your frame, his somewhat stiff stance loosened, his eyes softening as he absorbed your upset state. His mouth opened to speak, but before he had the chance to mutter a single syllable, your words silenced his, the sentences freely falling from your lips.
“When all this began, for the first time in my life, I felt as if I was lifted from any burden. Weightless from all responsibilities. No rules, no restrictions, no Council or Jedis. Do you know how freeing that felt? To be nothing but a girl having some fun with a stranger at a bar? It was like being able to breathe again for the first time!”
He listened to each word you spoke, his mouth remaining shut as he stepped towards you, you moving yourself in the opposite direction as he did so.
“It was harmless fun Kenobi! Believe it or not, I really don’t care, but that’s all it was! And if you’re so opposed by it, go ahead and tell the Council!!”
“No” he mumbled flatly, his eyes never leaving yours as his head shook, his body moving another step closer to yours.
“Why not?!” you shouted, the back of your knees finally hitting the edge of the bed as you backed away from his approaching body, “Maybe they’ll believe you, banish me from the temple. You’ll be able to reign free, the great General Kenobi at the peak of his game!”
“No” he repeated, this time louder as he began to close in on you, a warm puddle forming in the pit of your stomach as you noticed a glimmer of crazy in his eyes that you’d never seen before.
“Thats what you’ve strived for all these years, isn’t it? The moment I stepped foot in that temple you wanted me out of there! Nows your chance! I know this is what you want to do, so just do it!”
Within the blink of an eye, his arms extended in front of him, his warm palms landing on your waist as he pulled you towards him, your chest slamming into his, your breath knocked from your lungs at the contact. His head tilted down to meet yours, one arm removing itself from your waist only to place itself on your chin, his fingers pinching your skin as he directed your head to face his.
“You have no idea what I want!”
The small blow of his breath drifted across your open lips, the sensation sending a wave of tingles down your spine, a pool of warmth forming between your weekend legs as his angered eyes peered into your own.
“You think having you removed from the council is what I desire? To not have you within reach, have you out of my eyesight for even a single second? I would rather take a blade to the skull than to have you out of my life, leaving me miserable while you’re out there being fulfilled by some low life stranger who doesn’t even know your real name”
As the last sentence left his lips, he pulled your body as close as possible, your heart fluttering as you breathily gasped, his following words causing you to almost fall to your knees as he whispered them onto your flushed skin, “They could never do what needs to be done with you. You don’t even know what real fulfillment is”
Lifting your head, his fingers still attached to your skin, you inched your face towards him, you pausing at the soft touch of his lips brushing yours, your words vibrating the curve of his bottom lip as you whispered, “...Then why don’t you show me?”
The breath was knocked from your lungs once more as your frame was suddenly pushed backwards, you collapsing onto the mattress with force, Obi Wans body close behind you as he softly landed on top of you. Leaving no time to waste, he spread his knees to rest on the outsides of your thighs, his hands grabbing at your waist once more as he shuffled you towards the top of the mattress, your body effortlessly tossed towards the soft pillows.
Barely able to settle from his rapid moving of your body, he crawled his way back on top of you, his lips immediately connecting with the base of your jaw causing an audible sigh to clear from your lungs.
“You have no idea...” he started, each word interrupted by a sloppy kiss as he worked his way down your neck, “how deeply I've wanted... how deeply I've... needed you”
His confession made your mind swirl, your hands instinctively gripping at his clothing, trembling fingers unbuttoning and tugging the fabric away from his torso as he roughly worked his mouth across your skin. With each suck and nip, your breaths drew deeper which only seemed to encourage him more.
“For countless years... my every waking moment” he breathed, his hips connecting to meet with yours, you noticing the stiffness between his legs for the first time causing you to groan, “... has been consumed with thoughts of you”
His upper body now rid of clothes, you suddenly felt extremely warm in your own clothing, your head tossing to the side as you struggled to free your arms from the twisted scarf clinging to them. Noticing your movements, Obi Wan withdrew himself from your neck, his movements twice as fast as he assisted in removing your scarf, him balling the item up and tossing it behind him, you taking the small moment to focus on his lips, the skin dark and plump, the wetness glazed across the his lips giving you the urge to connect your own with his.
Returning to face you, his eyes caught sight of your gaze, his heart skipping a beat when you made contact with him. Your flushed cheeks and darked pupils almost sent him into a complete frenzy, but the small pull of your soft smile drew him back into reality, him needing to clear any doubts before continuing, his one arm keeping him hovered above you while the other stroked a strand of hair from your cheek.
“If... if this isn’t what you want, we can st-”
Unable to wait a moment longer, you snaked your arms around his neck, drawing him into you as you pushed your lips onto his. The moment you made contact, pure euphoria spread itself through each nerve in Obi Wans body, him kissing you back twice as hard as his heart leaped in his chest. Finally, he thought.
You pulled back slightly, your attempt to speak cut short as Obi Wan eagerly chased your lips, him deepening the kiss the moment his skin met yours, not wanting to spend another second away from your lips.
You allowed him to take you in, his lips dancing along with yours as his hips began to slowly grind onto you, your soft sigh tumbling into his mouth causing him to kiss you deeper.
“Obi” you mumbled, him humming in reply, completely engulfed by bliss, his lips never leaving yours.
“Obi Wan” you repeated, this time louder as you pulled away from him with a small laugh.
As much as you were enjoying the sensation of his lips on yours, the ever-growing pulse between your legs was growing stronger with every passing moment, and you were on the edge of becoming desperate.
“What is it?” Kenobi questioned, his eyes clouding with doubt as he scanned your face, your delicate hand now combing back his long hair welcoming him with immediate reassurance.
“I need you...” Your simple worlds caused the man to completely crumble, the sentence one he’d dreamt of for countless years, certain he’d never have the pleasure of being on the receiving end when you said it. Yet there he was, laying on top of the woman he loved, the worlds a looping constant in his mind as he watched you. “... Please”
As if sprung back to life from the dead, he didn’t want to wait a single moment longer, his hands frantic as they reached around to the back of your neck, unfastening your dress and peeling the fabric from your upper body and down to your hips, you shuffling on the mattress, assisting him in any way you could. Pulling the material down your legs, he used one hand to toss it behind him, the other tugging the shoes from your feet before he did the same to himself, ridding him of his pants and footwear before returning his attention to you.
Stoll hovering above you, he spends a small moment ogling at your naked torso, the way your sprawled hair and tinted cheeks complemented your exposed skin. He was certain he was in the presence of an angel, wishing he could freeze the sight of you before him and stare at it for eternity, yet the harness between his legs prevented him from doing otherwise, him lowering himself to your chest.
His hands roamed freely across your skin, the sensation of his drifting fingers leaving your hairs standing on edge as his mouth now worked itself across your shoulder blades, each hot kiss leaving a trail of wetness behind.
Even though you had no intention of staying quiet, small sighs and groans fell freely into the air, each one growing louder as Obi Wan worked his way down your body, him coming to a standstill as his mouth reached your breast.
His mouth occupied with one, his hand now toying with the other, your breathing grew heavier in pleasure, only spiraling the frenzy that burned inside Obi Wan.
“Oh my... oh my god” you breathed, your hands shifting between the back of his shoulder blades and the strands of his hair.
“You’re so beautiful” he mumbled dreamily, his mouth and hands switching positions as he worked himself across to your right breast, his hand now kneading your left.
Although you were coursing with pleasure, you still needed more, you growing impatient with his slow teasing.
“Obi Wan, I...”
“Yes, my darling?”
“I need more”
“More?” he teased, his head lifting from your chest and snaking its way to your neck, him now trailing a row of small pecks to your ear, pausing to whisper, “Tell me what you want”
“Your hands. Please, Obi”
An exhale of laughter blew into your ear, Obi Wans mouth finding your own as his hand snaked its way down your body, his hand slightly trembling as it reached the lining of your underwear. He toyed with the edge of the fabric, your lips mashing with his as your hips lifted in reflex to the touch, pushing him to continue.
As his fingers dug beneath the fabric, you released a rumbly moan into his mouth, the sound causing him to eagerly press further, the pads of his fingers collecting wetness as he explored. Your sounds of pleasure grew more rapidly as his fingers moved, him finding your bundle of nerves with ease causing you to cry out and press up onto his hand, a smirk forming on his face as you did so.
Both your palms now held his cheeks, keeping his lips pressed against yours as his hand worked on your below, a rhythm forming in his movements causing a buildup to form within you, a pressure initiating in your core.
Keeping his thumb on your bud, his index and middle finger explored lower, pausing at your opening.
“Is this what you desire?” he asked between kisses, his voice low and rough. You nodded in agreement, your eyes shut in bliss as his thumb continued its movements.
“You words. I need your words”
“Yes!” you cried desperately into his mouth, a sigh leaving both of your lips as his fingers entered you.
His movements started slow, him taking in each new feeling as his fingers slowly worked in and out, but it wasn’t until he felt the connection of your hip meeting his hands that he allowed himself to speed up, your continuous moans on his lips reassurance that you were enjoying yourself. It wasn’t long before the tension within you began rapidly building to new heights, the two of you breathing deeply into one another.
“Obi...” you moaned, your mouth detaching from him, bottom lip falling slack as your skin began to tingle with pleasure, “I’m... I'm close”
His movements stayed steady, your hands beginning to shake as you drew closer to your release until everything suddenly stopped, his fingers inside you now a ghostly presence as he removed his hands from beneath your underwear, bringing them to his own, him pulling the fabric down as you gaped at him in disbelief of what he’d just done.
“Why did you st-”
Your questioning was interrupted with a firm, sloppy kiss, you jumping at the return of his hands as they fell on the side of your leg, grabbing the fabric of the only remaining piece of clothing on your body before tugging them down your thighs.
“I need to feel you, now” he said as he leant back on his knees, readjusting to both of you around so that his legs were between yours, your legs bent and thighs spread as he lowered himself, his body straight as he hovered above you once more. His free hand grabbed his shaft, lining it up with your core, his eyes peering up at you as he did so.
“Are you s-”
“Obi” you groaned in annoyance, your body still tingling from his edging just before.
“I need you to be sure” he said back with a competitive tone, yet the small smile on his face revealed anything but anger.
“I want you Obi Wan. Right now. Please”
With your green light, he thrusted his hip towards you, your entrance welcoming his tip as he lowered himself into you, the sounds leaving both of your mouths a cocktail of pure pleasure. He moved slowly, wanting to prevent causing you any discomfort but also needing to savor the feeling. This really is heaven, he thought.
Dragging himself in and out, he refused to pick up his pace until you granted him to do so, a wave of excitement spreading through him as your hips began to meet his. He entered you with more force, hip colliding with yours as he rocked into you, causing you to cry out in satisfaction.
“Faster” you mumbled, your head falling sideways as he began to move more vigorously.
“What was that?” he teased, pretending to not hear your words.
“Please, faster, Obi Wan!” you cried.
His speed doubled as he worked into you, both of your bodies rocking in sync as he lowered his mouth to your neck, his lingering pecks growing sloppier as he the time passed, vocal groans and heavy puffs rumbling against your now tender skin.
The familiar building began to form within the pits of your stomach once more, your hands reaching out to claw at the exposed skin of Kenobi's back as you breathlessly moaned, “Fuck... You’re so good”
“Yeah?”
“Mmmh hmmm” you nodded, his lips snaking their way down to your chest once more before returning to your face, his forehead resting on yours as his wild eyes peered down into yours.
“No other scum can please you the way I can” he groaned somewhat angrily, his lips pressing onto yours forcefully as his thrusting hardened causing a cry to crawl itself out from your throat, “Only I can... God, only I can have you like this. Tell me only I make you feel this good”
“Obi Wan!” you called, your chest rising and falling rapidly as the ache in your core drew closer to release.
“I said tell me!” he paused, his hand snaking its way down to your thigh, gripping the skin and hiking your leg up beside him causing his thrusts to fall deeper inside you.
“It’s only you, Obi- Oh my... Only you make me feel this good!”
“That’s right...” he cooed, placing a kiss to your swollen lips as his forehead returned to yours, his eyes lapping up the visual pleasure displaced across your face.
Your cries both messy and loud, your hands began to shake once more as you were now on the edge of your release, Obi Wans own pent up tension a reflection of yours as he bucked into you.
“I’m... I’m...” you stuttered, your hands frantic on his skin as his breath fanned your face, you unable to finish your sentence as his mouth returned to yours for a final time, his free hand gripping your skin tightly as you reached your peaks, you crying out inaudible appraisals as you came undone, your nails digging into Obi Wans flushed skin as he rocked into you, his release directly chasing yours, his loud moans echoing in your ears.
You rode the wave of your highs together, his hips continuing to rock into yours as he emptied himself inside of you, his mind a haze of complete bliss as you held him, your rocky breaths across his skin sending shivers down his spine.
You stayed like that for what you wished could be an eternity, basking in the euphoria that coursed through your veins as you both relaxed into one another, you gasping as Obi Wan removed himself from your warm walls before plummeting onto your frame, your skin to skin contact an immediate warming comfort.
Catching your breaths, your hand raked the skin on his back, your palms soothing the red scratches you created just moments before as he delicately placed fluttery kisses on your already bruising collarbones. Neither of you had spoken a word, you both basking in the moment, absorbing the affections you were gifting to one another before Obi Wans head rose from your chest, his eyes slightly glassy as he drew in your attention.
“As cathartic as that was... we do have an assignment to complete” he joked, the hair on his chin tickling the skin on your chest as it bounced with laughter, you tossing your head back with a groan before peeking down at him once more, his wide smile a reflection of your own.
“I hate you, Kenobi” you teased, your hands snaking their way up through his hair, your fingers pausing to give a section of strands a slight tug as you spoke causing his smile to widen.
“My darling, I hate you more than you’ll ever know”
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part 1 here
the second part of this series.
pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader
summary: two weeks had passed after the death of their bestfriend, and it still remained a mystery yet to be solved. it wouldn't take long before more secrets began to unravel, and there was only one question left to ask; would you love somebody enough to die for them?
warnings: mentions of murder and death, murder in detail, grief, blood, weapons (knives and guns), anxiety, smut, suggestive, homophobia, being laced, attempted assault
-
It's been two weeks.
Not that it feels real yet.
Two weeks of starring off into space, watching detectives scope out our dorm room. Natalie’s entire side of the room has been demolished. Pictures and memories deemed as evidence in her case.
They’ve been going at it for a while now, but there were still no updates. The corner kept quiet, they said legally they couldn’t say anything else. My parents told me they were actually just stumped on who could’ve pulled off such a crime.
She was found the morning after the party. Which meant we were the last to have ever seen her. Her blonde hair flowing through the air as she closed the door in Jackson’s face, subconsciously saying goodbye to us all even if she had no idea what would come next.
Her body was covered in her crimson blood. Her clothes, hair, and skin were stained permanent in her own defeat. They counted fourteen wounds throughout her body.
Absolutely none were self defense.
It wasn’t a surprise. She was drunk. She was drunk and weak, incapable of protecting herself as she walked back to campus.
I should’ve been there with her. I should’ve walked back with her. If I did there was still a chance she would be alive. Or there was a chance I would be dead too. Which wouldn’t necessarily be the worst thing. Not anymore.
Her smile is engrained in my head and I’ve been so scared that one day it's going to go away, I don't want to ever forget it.
When she was alive I was so focused on myself. So focused on Matt, school, and the annoying rumors that she spread.
But now she's gone and I want her back more than anything.
I want more sleepovers on her trampoline where we told each other our deepest secrets. I want to be sitting on the hot pavement, doodling onto the sidewalk with cheap chalk while we mindlessly talk about middle school drama. I want her back for everything that made her good.
How can somebody become a memory? She was laying in bed next to me, talking about her and Jackson two weeks ago, and now all I have left is the impact she left behind. How is that fair to her?
How is it fair to be known by what you put into the earth in a mere nineteen years?
The funeral was terrible. Her family became my family, and seeing them so broken only filled me with more guilt.
"You're just getting ridiculous."
I was so mad at her, so fuelled with anger that I couldn't think about anything else, and now I’d witnessed her parents, sobbing onto the coffin while her older brother stays strong for them.
“Do you have anything better to do?”
My last words to her.
On repeat every time I visit her.
She did so much good, and I was too focused on the bad to see that.
Although grief shows up differently for everyone, we’ve all been taking it hard. Nick took the most time to process, he was unable to fathom a world without her in it, and I held him as he cried in my arms after the funeral.
That’s the only thing that made her death feel real. Not the news reports, or the empty dorm I came home to. Instead seeing her lifeless body, covered in makeup she wouldn't have applied herself. Somehow still looking beautiful as ever.
Jackson became overly distant. It seemed unlike him to say so little about someone he loved so much. None of us wanted to push him though. His relationship with Natalie wasn’t one I wanted for myself, but they relied on each other to get by, and now he feels utterly alone.
The whole city feels different. Remnants of her everywhere I look. I just can’t escape as much as I try. As much as I try and pretend everything’s still ok. The truth is nothing will ever be truly ok again.
At least not for me.
-
“I'll just get an order of fries and a vanilla milkshake please.” | smiled at the waitress, the maroon apron resting on her waist while she takes my order. She nods as she turns her head away from me.
“And for you?” She asked, referring to Matt who sat across from me, a knit sweater resting on his body. The body that I knew like the back of my hand.
Matt and I haven’t been out since Natalie died. Date nights had always been a common thing for us, but it’s taken me awhile to bring myself to leave the house.
Natalie was murdered. Stabbed and killed by another human being. Another soul, yet no remorse filled their bones.
I couldn’t bear the overwhelming amount of evidence that she was in fact dead. I moved into Matt’s dorm for the time being. His roommate left for break, which meant I could easily sneak in for days on end. His arms wrapped around mine while fresh tears coated the dry.
Instead of rotting in the once shared dorm, I laid inside of Matt’s room. My mind never letting me forget what happened to Natalie. My dreams, my thoughts, everytime I closed my eyes.
For once though, I’m more focused on the cute smile on Matt’s face while he orders than I am about the tragic events that took place. The way his fingers toy with one another as he speaks, picking at his skin to get him through having to order himself.
We decided on a vintage diner that's been open in our town since forever. The same place he took me on our first date. I smile slightly as I reminisce the innocence of it all, how awkward he had been asking me out, how he went above and beyond with fresh flowers and a kiss goodnight.
“What’s got you all smiley?” He asked as the waitress left to give our order to the chef. His hands overtook my own on the surface of the table, his silver rings brushing against my gold.
“I just love you at lot.” I replied, feeling my cheeks tensing up slightly at the grin that exhausts the muscles in my face. The skin heating up as a light pink scattered across it.
“That's really the only reason?” He asks as he furrows his eyebrows. His gaze glued onto mine, like he could almost look through me. I sighed, relaxing my shoulders completely.
“Remember our first date? I was just thinking about the car ride to this diner, and how scared you were to hold my hand as you drove.” I giggled lightly. He cringed in embarrassment, placing his hands over his face to cover his now red cheeks. I took his hands back, bringing them to my own and forcing his gaze towards me. "It was cute."
“I can’t even think of myself two years ago. I was so—” He began to speak again before the sound of my voice cut him off. “So what? So thoughtful, so caring, so attractive…” I listed off, causing him to roll his eyes.
“I fell in love with you two years ago. The same way I’m in love with you now.”
“Wow, you are so corny.” He jokes, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.
“Ok, ok. I’ll stop. I’m just really happy to have you here for me. I couldn’t go through this alone.” I smiled at him. He cleared his throat with a soft nod, his eyes focusing on the waitress bringing us our food.
We leaned out, our hands now lifting from one another's as she places my milkshake and fries in front of me, Matt getting the exact same thing. "Thank you.” I smile at the girl, her footsteps now echoing as she left behind a small smile.
Matt brings a fry to his mouth.
"Is there a reason you get the same thing as me everytime?" I laughed softly, taking a sip of my vanilla milkshake. The cold liquid refreshing my body from the so called tragedy of the hot sun beaming outside.
"Will you make fun of me?" He asked, causing me to shake my head, my mouth still surrounding the colored straw. “I got the same thing as you on our first date, because I didn’t know what to do and I figured you’d have good taste.” He spoke again.
I laughed with a slow nod as I replied. “Did you at least like it?”
“Course’ I do. I was right when I said you have good taste.” He smiled.
The date continued on how they normally do. I finished my food way quicker than Matt, leaving me with more time to talk while he caught up on eating his food.
He had always been my favorite listener. Never judging and always playing sole attention to whatever nonsense left my mouth. He never made me feel alone. He never made me feel small.
When I was with Matt I felt just right.
-
After our date ended we arrived back at his dorm, my body heading straight for his bed, the place I’ve been rotting in for two weeks. My parents are too busy trying to find the person who killed Natalie to be home, comforting their own daughter.
It wasn’t anything new, and I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. That’s how it had always been in the Parker household.
Work came first, family came last.
When I was younger it bothered me more. All I wanted was for my parents to be there for me more. All I wanted was the slightest amount of attention from them.
In the third grade I got caught up on trying to break my arm, seeing as how Natalie did too. Her parents showered her with gifts, love, and attention. Something I had wanted more than anything, and had only received it from Matt.
“Can we please just watch Perks of Being a Wallflower? I haven't watched it in so long." I asked, cuddled up against Matt with my arm hanging over his stomach.
“Isn’t that the really sad one?” He raised his eyebrow, his chin resting on the top of my head as his hand rubbed small lines on my back. One of his shirts placed over my body. It smelt like his cologne and whiskey. My favorite scent in the entire universe.
The room is dark, the TV illuminating the space just enough for me to focus on his hand on the remote, the way his rings fit perfectly around the curves of his fingers.
“It’s not that sad—just the ending, but sad endings are ok if the rest of the story is good.” I finally replied, my eyes meeting his.
“Fine.” He sighed in defeat, his fingers on the remote control spelling out the letters of my favorite movie. The movie I haven’t watched in so long, because I’ve been caught up with everything else.
I hoped it would bring me back a sense of comfort. The comfort that I badly needed after my life turned into such a mess.
But that was selfish of me to say.
Because after all, I still had a life.
The movie started playing, the volume filling the room as Matt’s soft breaths blew against my hair my wind. For whatever reason, my brain couldn’t focus on the film in front of me.
All I could think about was Natalie.
Her last words, the fear she must have felt, how much she wanted to live and wasn’t given the opportunity.
There was a possibility she was too drunk to even comprehend was happening, but there was also a possibility that she understood everything. Maybe she wanted to fight back.
My breathing started to quicken uncontrollably, thoughts of her death overtaking my human need to receive oxygen.
Matt noticed almost instantly, like he always did. He placed his hand on my heart and paused the movie, his arms tighter against my body as he paused his movements against my back.
“Shh, it’s ok. You’re ok. You’re safe with me here.” He whispered, my eyes trying to stay focused on him as he scanned my face, concern and confusion covering his expression.
It wasn’t fair.
What happened to Natalie wasn’t fair, and if I wasn’t too concerned in saving my own ass and protecting myself against the rumors, I could’ve saved her instead.
But I didn’t.
Instead I watched as she walked through the party door. I didn’t say anything as she looked at me for help with what to say to Jackson. I didn’t offer to walk her back to our room.
I just let her leave.
I didn’t know she wouldn’t come back. I didn’t know any of this would happen. If I did I sure as hell wouldn’t have even let her leave that night. Maybe then I could’ve protected her. Just like friends are supposed to.
But Natalie and I were never just friends. We were sisters, and we fought like we were.
“No, I wanted the pink skirt.” Natalie spoke, frustration plastered on her face as she ripped the mauve laced fabric from my small hands. I sighed in annoyance, reaching out for the skirt once more.
“You didn’t say that.” I replied, holding it against my chest as she glared at me. If her eyes were really lasers, I’d be long gone by the way her gaze was glued against me. Her hands empty as I held what she wanted in mine.
We only had two skirts. One pink and one blue, obviously neither of us wanting to wear the dark blue one compared to the glitter filled pink.
It was too late for her parents to go back to the store, the time approaching nearly nine at night. Instead, we had to use what we had; one pink and one blue skirt.
“Just give it back.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. I shook my head, holding the skirt closer to my body. She rolled her eyes at my words.
Natalie’s mom pushed through the double doors, spotting us bickering in the living room. Our stance clearly telling her that something was wrong, if not our words.
“She can have the skirt Nat, she’s our guest.” Her mom sighed, picking up the blue skirt and handing it to Natalie who shook her head in response. Now I was the one rolling my eyes, watching as Natalie walked from the room, leaving both skirts behind and finding her way to her bedroom.
“You two fight like sisters.” Her mom mumbled, smiling gently as she followed Natalie through the double doors.
Soon enough my breathing slowed, the memory easing my mind. His hand cupped my jaw as his thumb left soft strokes on my cheek, almost as if he was wiping away everything bad.
“I know it’s hard baby, but she’s better now. It’s your turn to get better now too, yeah?” He spoke, his eyes finding mine again. “No more rumors, no more lies.” He hummed.
“I just wish it wasn’t this hard.” I sighed, not a single tear running down my cheek. It wasn’t because I hadn’t been sad. It’s because I’ve ran out of tears entirely.
Endless nights spent without a dry face. My eyes burning from how much I rubbed them as the tip of my nose turned red. It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing, because everywhere reminded me of her.
“I’m sorry.” He breathed out, carefully bringing my head back to his chest. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this. I wish I could take all your pain away. I promise I would.” He hummed, placing his hand over my head as he ran it against my hair, his other laced around my waist.
We sat in silence for a few moments, the distant sound of the air conditioning filling the room along with kisses placed on my head.
My mind slowed down again, only one remaining thought in my head while Matt moved his hands from my back to my side, only to reassure me, but I couldn’t help but to have already decided on what I had wanted.
“Matt.” I spoke up again, lifting my head from his chest one more. His eyes were already on mine as he hummed in response, furrowing his eyebrows gently as he awaited my words.
“Can you just—” I breathed out, pausing as my lip got caught between my teeth. He nodded slowly, gesturing for me to continue. “Can you distract me please?” I whispered.
He gave me a soft smile before picking up the remote once more. I let out a soft breath as I shook my head, placing his hand down. He was so clearly confused now.
I hesitated before pushing my body from his, my legs wrapping around his waist as I straddled him. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders, my pleading eyes finding his again.
“Oh.” He whispered, his cheeks flushing pink as he placed his hands on my waist, his touch was gentle. Too gentle, like he thought I would break.
“Please, just distract me.” I mumbled, leaning down as I placed my lips against his. We both breathed into the kiss, his hands placing a gentle pressure on my sides, a touch so delicate it causes goosebumps to form on my arms at the familiar contact.
This kiss isn’t like most we’ve shared in our two years of being together. Instead of slow and sensual, it’s desperate, hungry.
Maybe it was the fact we hadn’t had sex since the night of the party. Maybe it was all of our emotions unfolding together.
Either way, I couldn’t stop kissing him.
Our lips moved together in a unison that was comfortable while our tongues had a chance to explore each others mouth, like many other times.
Matt always knew what I was in need of. Most of the time he knew before I knew it myself, and right now, I knew I needed him.
My own hands traveled to his hair while he shifted to position himself above me, the familiar horse necklace dangling and grazing my neck.
Right then, it was as if I needed to be as close to Matt as possible, like I was craving his touch desperately, and it’s all I can think about. He pulled away, the small amount of light in the room outlining his jaw while he spoke.
“Are you sure you want this?”
I thought for a second, my body wanted it so badly, and as much as my brain had been occupied recently, I didn’t think a distraction would hurt.
I nodded, maybe a little too eagerly based on the loose laugh that he breaths out. “You’ve been so stressed.” He leaned into my neck, placing soft, plush kisses to my neck. “Just relax, yeah?”
I just nodded again, attempting to stay still as his gentle kisses leave me restless below him. His hands on my side trail up, grazing over my chest. He removed his lips from my neck, bringing them back against mine.
The feeling of his nose brushing up against my own could’ve put me into a trance, along with the way he bit my bottom lip gently as he pulled out of the kiss, his hands now pulling up my shirt— well, his shirt.
I held up my arms, allowing the fabric to move over my head, leaving me exposed underneath him. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes trailing up and down as I shifted uncomfortably, waiting for him to do something.
“Matt, please. I need you.” I whined. I was more desperate than ever for any form of relief. Matt leaned back in, kissing directly below my ear before whispering.
“Shh— I’ve got you. You’re good.”
Something about Matt is how much he cherished me at all times. Whether it was something as simple as walking on the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road, or something more intimate like right now.
He treated me like I was the best thing to ever grace the earth, and it felt like a title I was unfit to hold sometimes.
His hands roamed my chest momentarily. His fingers placing gentle pressure on every single sensitive section of my body. The only thing I can focus on is the way the pads of his fingers trace over my nipples, and the way he’s practically unable to remove his lips from one.
His hand slid down the center line of my stomach, placing a pressure on my clothed core before leaning out of the kiss.
“You deserve the world, you know that?”
I rolled my eyes playfully in response, pushing down a smile as I looked to him with urgency in my gaze. If anyone was going to be a complete cornball right before sex, it’s Matt.
He shifted down the bed, aligning his face with my lower half and immediately plants a kiss right above where I need him. I began to slide my blue shorts off, clearly eager to get started, but Matt just grabbed my hands and looked at me.
“So impatient, Char. I just want to take my time with you.” He cooed, placing my hands back onto my own stomach as his nose made contact with my clit through two layers of clothing.
My stomach filled with even more butterflies due to his words mixed with his actions. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes momentary as I tried to maintain the aching sensation.
I tried my best to stay still under his affectionate touch, but it was nearly impossible when he began to finally slide off the layers of fabric that are keeping me from him.
I pushed my hips up to help him, still incredibly desperate for any relief he can provide me. He knew exactly how to get me worked up, and I was definitely there.
He removed my shorts along with my underwear off of my ankles before re aligning his face with my aching core. His hands made contact with my legs, lifting them up over his shoulders before his tongue finally got put to use.
It began gentle, just the tip of his tongue starting to explore everywhere expect where I wanted. My hips pushed down against the mattress.
“Matt if you don’t do it for me, I’m going to do it myself.” I groaned through a sigh, getting less patient by the minute. Usually I could take his teasing, but again, I’m not usually this needy.
He just smiled before placing an open mouthed kiss directly into my clit, causing me to arch into the touch. The feeling sending shivers through my entire body.
His movements were soft, but the pressure of his tongue was enough to have me moaning out spewed sentences as he lapped around my clit. My hands immediately make their way to his slightly curled brunette hair, playing with his strands as his hands traveled back up to play with my chest.
The combination of his fast moving tongue over my sensitive clit, and his large hands toying with my hardened nipples had me throwing my head back into the pillow I laid against.
It’s safe to say I was distracted.
Matt picked up the pace now, eager to get me to crumble underneath his touch the way I always did. His hands left my chest, instead being brought down toward my entrance, and asking for my permission without words.
“Please.” I whined, crossing my ankles over his upper back as he detached his mouth from me momentarily. I quickly nodded.
He placed a kiss to my lower stomach as two of his fingers lid into me, curling up slowly as my hips bucked up into his hands subconsciously. His long fingers were definitely a blessing, because they reached my sweet spot without him even having to try.
“Am I making you feel good, pretty girl?” He asked, his voice low but just loud enough for me to hear. Pain mixed with pleasure as he continued to move his hand inside of me.
I nodded instantly, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as his fingers sped up at a pace that had my mouth watering.
“Tell me what you’re feeling, come on baby.” He said before placing his lips back around my clit, sucking softly as I was expected to speak.
I breathed out, trying my best to muster up my words, because I know Matt well enough to know he’ll stop if I don’t speak. “You—mmph, fuck!” I moaned out, his tongue working at a faster pace that has me squirming around him. His spare hand against my hip to hold me in place.
“You’re so good at making me feel good— you’re the only one who can get me like this.” I replied, bringing my bottom lip in between my teeth to suppress the moans trying to escape.
The initial shock of pure pleasure subsided and my body relaxed into his touch, the only thing I can think about is him and how good he makes me feel. “Just like that.” I moaned, pulling on his hair slightly as his fingers continued curling up into me. “Please Matt.”
He continued without a break, relentlessly flicking his tongue on my clit all while his fingers worked tirelessly to graze my g-spot over and over again.
It didn’t take long before my legs began to close over his head as the pressure building in the pit of my stomach becomes too overwhelming to ignore. “Matt I’m—”
My body acts before I can bear to get the words out, my stomach tensing at the newfound pleasure as his tongue remains ever moving on me until it became too much. “Ok.” I breathed out.
He knew that I was done, and although I could usually go for longer, I’m mentally and physically exhausted, and it’s taken a toll on me in every aspect of my life— apparently including sex.
“I love you so much baby.” Matt reiterated as he shifted up to place a kiss on my neck before helping me slide my shirts back on.
Something about the intimacy in that moment meant more to me than any of the events that took place minutes prior. It’s raw, loving, and it only confirms the love I have for that boy.
“I love you more.” I replied, smiling as he laid beside me on his bed.
I lean into him, his arm reaching over my head, allowing my face to find comfort in the crook of his neck while my leg wrapped around his hips.
His hand made its way to my bare back, stroking small patterns while he scoffed slightly. “I think you forget it’s impossible to love you as much as I do.” He replied quietly.
The words of affirmation never failed to have me flustered, and I truly don’t believe I’ll ever get sick of them. “I am pretty amazing, yeah?” I replied as I pulled myself closer to his body, my bare chest against his clothed.
He just placed a kiss to the top of my head at my words. “Don’t get too cocky now, pretty girl.”
-
We laid in bed for what felt like hours, but was really a mere ten minutes wrapped against his body. His arms around my waist, rubbing gentle circles against my bare sides.
It was so peaceful. I could’ve fallen asleep, and I almost did until the sound of his phone made me shift again him.
“Who’s calling you?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows as the ring of Matt’s phone echoed throughout the room. He shrugged, shaking his head as he denied the call, wrapping his arms around me once more.
We laid in silence, his fingers tracing shapes on my bare back while our legs stayed intertwined with each others.
After a few moments the familiar ring filled the room again. I pushed my head from his chest, sighing gently as he took his phone in his hands, answering a panicked Chris on the other line. He turned the one on speaker, raising it so we could both hear the other line.
“Matt—” Chris breathed out, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “Matt, Jackson got arrested. They think he killed Natalie.” He spoke quickly. My heart dropped at his words, my eyes widening as they met Matt’s.
Jackson?
Killing Natalie?
“What?” I asked, cutting Matt off as he was about to speak. “Jackson killed Natalie?” I spoke again, my tone weary and filled with dread. There wasn’t a chance, he wouldn’t do something like that. Especailly not to Natalie.
Right?
“Charlotte, I didn’t know you were—” Chris paused with a sigh, not knowing I had been listening to the conversation. “Yeah, they think so.” He breathed out.
I swallowed the undeniable nerves, nodding to myself as my mind raced. Just like it had been for two weeks.
“Well do they have proof?” I replied, now I was completely sat up next to Matt, his blanket covering my body as our vision remained on each other. Chris sighed on the other line.
“Yeah, some old text messages apparently.”
My heart dropped again. This time resting in my stomach as I brought my lip in between my teeth. Jackson couldn’t have possibly done something so horrible. He doesn’t even seem capable of doing anything like murder.
Then it hit me.
Jackson left the party after Natalie did. After they got into their fight, after she slammed the door in front of his face, telling him they were over for the fifth time this month.
But would he take something so unserious as a need to commit murder? To kill her? He was most definitely drunk, even then it didn’t make sense. I’ve known Jackson almost my entire life.
And I knew that he loved Natalie.
At least that’s what I thought.
-
The drive to the police station was uncomfortable to say the least. My leg constantly bouncing up and down while my fingers found comfort between my teeth.
Matt had tried to play music to ease the silence but I shut it down insanely fast. I needed to focus on everything going on.
None of this made sense, Jackson’s not a bad person. An asshole maybe, but not a murderer. What he had with Natalie would’ve never ended with such an extreme, a petty argument at most.
There’s many moments in life where for whatever reason it doesn’t feel real. A lot of the time it happens to people on a fascinating vacation or on something loving like their wedding day.
Mine was today.
“Mom.” I breathed out as soon as I stepped into the building, the familiar woman standing beside the registry desk, paperwork in her hands.
If there was even a chance to find out if Jackson was innocent, I wasn’t going to miss it.
She just rushed me into a smaller office without a word. “Mom what’s going on?” I asked. I had a pretty long list of questions rushing through my head but I tried to focus on the present.
My mom is usually good at hiding her emotions, not letting them appear easily on her face. Tonight I could read her like a book, and I knew instantly I wouldn’t like the ending.
“Where were you after the party?” My mom spoke, referring to Matt as he stop beside me. Matt didn’t hesitate before responding. “With your daughter.” He answered, his unfamiliar glare meeting hers.
I furrowed my eyebrows almost instantly at his lie. He wasn’t with me, I was alone that night. I was completely alone considering the fact Natalie hadn’t made it home.
“Charlotte, Is this true? Is Matt telling the truth?” She asked, staring at me with a sense of urgency shooting through her pupils.
I attempt to answer her as quickly as I can in the moment. Although, it’s not easy to ignore the guilt that’s already building up in my stomach.
“Yes mom, he’s telling the truth. He walked me to my dorm and we ended up falling asleep while we were watching a movie together.”
Lying didn’t feel good in the slightest. I constantly remind myself that I’m doing nothing wrong since Matt did nothing wrong. He probably just wanted to avoid looking suspicious because he went to his dorm alone last night.
It’s completely understandable, and besides, I’d do anything for him.
My mom must’ve believed my words because she just nodded slowly, placing her hands against the curves of her hips. “I don’t know Char. It’s not looking good for Jackson.”
I scoffed immediately. She’s working on my bestfriends case, and acting like she knows everything about them.
In reality she was at work so much she barely even met them.
“Jackson’s not a murderer. You guys are wrong about him. He didn’t kill her.” I spoke again as I shook my head with a pleading expression. She barely even registered my words before the door opened again, another officer stepping inside.
My mom’s eyes met mine before I sighed. Just like always, duty calls. It didn’t matter that my bestfriend just died, what mattered was that she was satisfied with her work.
How could I ever forget?
“He’s innocent.” I scoffed again before turning on my heel, brushing past Matt as we left down the familiar hallway. Once we reached a quiet area he stopped me, placing his hands on my shoulders and making me look his way.
“He didn’t do it, Matt. I know he didn’t— He loved Natalie.” I spoke up, searching his eyes for some trace of hope that he believed me. I could’ve been wrong, and I knew that. There was a chance that Jackson really did kill her, but I didn’t see the proof, and I didn’t see him do it.
There’s no chance the killer had been in front of me the entire time.
He only sighed before letting his gaze trace away from mine. He shrugged lightly. “They say there’s a good chance he did.” He spoke quietly. I rolled my eyes at his words. Nobody had his back but me. Absolutely nobody.
“Just try to stay calm, ok? Your parents know what they’re doing. They’re not going to let an innocent teenager go to jail.”
I hesitantly nodded at his words as he placed a soft kiss against my forehead. He was right, he would be in custody until he was truly proven guilty. Not just suspected.
“Besides, there’s no more rumors, no more lies.” He repeated his words from earlier, giving me a reassuring smile as he placed his arm on my arm. The two of us walking back through the doors, the sun hitting our skin instantly.
This time I thought on what he said.
-
matts pov
The sun set and rose again. The entire night spent with Charlotte’s nearly two hundred new possibilities on who could’ve killed Natalie, if it wasn’t Jackson who did it.
I have to say, I had to give her credit for thinking so much about something she had no control over. But I knew she just wanted justice for her best friend, everyone did.
The past two weeks had been spent with her being a complete mess. Mentally. She’s went through the five stages of grief nearly ten times around, and the denial continues to linger once someone now mentions Jackson’s name.
Endless nights spent with her in my arms, words of reassurance and comfort leaving my lips. I hated seeing her so upset.
Not nearly as upset as she was when Natalie started those rumors about her.
“Alright, you needed help on what section of our studies?” Professor Collin’s asked, shooting me a bright smile as he logged into the computer. The forced yet returned smile covered my face.
My eyes traced to the clock behind him. I had to be quick, class would start in an hour, and we had so much to do before then.
“Just section four.” I replied, sliding him my notes. He nodded, looking through what I wrote.
It’s clear he’s not impressed with the work I’ve placed in front of him by the way his mouth forms a tight lipped smile as he reads through. “It’s a good thing you came for help, I’m worried about you getting behind your classmates.” He advises, continuing to judge everything I’ve laid out for him.
Maybe if he wasn’t flirting with my girlfriend the entire two hour lecture, I would be able to get more work done. Instead I was too worried on making sure he didn’t pull her into the broom closet between her studies.
Natalie was lying about the fact that the two of them were having sex. They never hooked up, and I know that for a fact.
She would never do that to me. Especially not with him.
On the other hand, it was painfully obvious how badly he wanted to. Between his eyes locked on hers, dilated pupils, and folders covering his crouch while he stood in front of the class.
It never felt right knowing he imagined her in all of the positions that I have full access to every night. Hell, I’m sure he gets off reminiscing on their innocent conversations in class.
I wasn’t an idiot, and I hated him for how he thought of her. She was mine, and she certainly wasn’t a piece of eye candy. Especailly not for her own professor.
Someone had to teach him a lesson.
“Do you like fucking your students?” I spoke up again, my gaze dropping from my paper to the man sitting in the desk below me.
His eyes quickly widened as he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at me with disbelief. Like he had no idea what I was saying.
“Excuse me?” He breathed out, shaking his head with a nervous laugh. I rolled my eyes so hard they ached. “Did you not hear me?” I asked as I took a step closer to him.
“I said do you like fucking your students.” I had repeated my previous question, this time louder. Thankfully for him the door was shut, leaving us alone in the dingy classroom.
His expression was panicked, but it was also clear how hardly he tried to remain a straight face. He was a pervert. Just a disgusting piece of shit, and everyone was going to know it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He finally replied as he turned away from me.
I scoffed as I took a step closer to him, reaching into my bag. I was going to finally end this. Right here, right now. Nobody else would say another nasty comment about my girl.
“You must think about it at the very least. Are you only imagining Charlotte when you’re sitting in your desk? Or do you think about her laying in bed next to your wife too?” I tease, drawing out my actions as the fear lingers within him.
“Matt?” Professor Collin’s speaks quietly, his eyes widened as I held the metal knife in my hand. He looked at me with guilt, fear, and confusion. The sight I loved more than anything.
The words I loved to hear before disaster. My own name being called out, like they were genuinely confused. Like they didn’t know they deserved this, that it was coming for them.
That I was coming for them.
“Matt?” Natalie slurred, raising her eyebrow as she looked at me. She was complete wasted, I had been watching her stumble on the way back to her dorm, but she hadn’t even been going the right way.
I stepped closer to him as he pushed his chair back, ultimately hitting the wall behind him. He had no where to go, he was completely trapped. And I had the weapon. We were playing a game of mouse. He was the mouse, I was the cat. He was my prey as of this moment, just like he had been preying on my girlfriend for months.
In a swift action I pulled him by his collar, his head hitting his wooden desk as his hands dropped to his side. Small winces escaping his lips as the knife went through his back.
I watched it with eager.
Again.
And again.
The knife going through his back.
Again.
And again.
The light of moon reflected on the silver knife going through her skin, her warm blood seeping out against my hand, against the pavement below us before she fell over.
There was a sudden moment of strength within her. Maybe adrenaline, maybe just pure will to live. Either way she spoke. “I just” She coughed, blood dripping down her chin as tears welled in her eyes. “I wanted someone to pay attention to me.” She sniffles pathetically as she weeps. “Why does no one notice me?”
Her body fell flat against the floor, her head scraped against his ground. I pulled the knife back, her blood pooling on the pavement around us as I wiped it between my gloves.
“No more rumors, no more lies.” I spoke under my breath, taking a final glance at the girl below me. Taking a final glance at the nonsense she’s caused over the past months.
It didn’t take long before his body became still underneath my touch. He was restless, no trace of life left. Just how I liked it. I pulled the knife back, wiping the blood off between my hands.
I took ahold of his hair, pulling his lifeless face up before running two slits on his bottom lip, dots of blood pooling around them.
“She’s mine.” I hissed through my teeth, picking up a lose piece of chalk from the end of his desk before leaving one final message on the board.
Yesterdays problem.
-
My heart raced as I pushed myself through the dimly lit hallways. One foot in front of the other the entire way. I could feel the warm blood seeping into my skin.
The blood I drew.
There was a dead man in that classroom. I was the one that killed him. Guilt mixed with power as I approached the nearest place with a sink, the boys locker room.
As soon as I walked into the room, I rushed to the nearest sink and turned on the water. I watched as all of the evidence went down the drain, but if anyone were to walk into that classroom they would see the truth.
“Matt?” A voice spoke from behind me. Panic flooded my body as I quickly turned around, my eyes meeting Bryce’s. He held his water jug in his hand, his jersey loosely hanging off of his body.
Fuck.
My eyes met his as I moved myself closer to the sink, trying to cover the mess in front of me. The water spraying the mixed blood around the white counter, an undeniable sight.
At my reaction he pushed himself closer, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at the sink, the water still running as my hands remained soaked.
“Is that blood?” He finally asked.
My first response was to shake my head, tell him he was wrong. Maybe even gaslight him, make him belief he was the one going crazy.
But it was going to be hard to convince someone that something else was going on. Especially someone like Bryce.
On different circumstances, I would’ve been able to take care of this myself. Make sure everything was clean, and hidden before I ran into anyone. He didn’t give me much of a chance.
It’s unfair if you think about it. I’m only doing what other people are too scared to, and now i’m facing unjust consequences.
“I— I fell.” I spoke out, my eyes locked on his while his was glued to the blood running down my hands. That was until he noticed the knife sticking out of my pocket.
“Don’t fucking tell anyone.” I ordered, trying to remain persuasive or powerful to him, but I knew how much panic was laced through my voice.
He was frozen in fear, like he was the one who was supposed to be scared when I could be getting sent to prison for the rest of my life.
Maybe if he didn’t walk in on me it wouldn’t have been his fault. Unfortunately for him, his curiosity simply got the better of him.
“Bryce.” I spoke again, harshly as I placed my stained hands against his shoulders. His eyes widening as he finally looked up at me. “You gonna fucking tell?” I asked.
He didn’t respond. My heart rate only picked up. He was going to tell. Anyone would. I didn’t blame them, but I couldn’t let that happen. Nineteen years old, spending the rest of my life behind bars for simply giving others justice.
I really couldn’t let that happen.
Before another thought ran through my mind, his head was pressed against the mirror. The glass shattering around us, while the rest became stained with his blood.
His water jug dropped from his limp hand, the liquid leaking around the floor before he dropped down as well, landing against his back with a thump.
I took a deep breath, blood now coating the mirror, sink, and floor.
“It was too risky.” I mumbled to him, well, really only myself as I pulled the knife from my pocket again, three slits placed on his bottom lip, only drawing more blood from his face.
Kill count, three.
-
I'm not a bad person.
At least I don't think I am.
My intentions aren't flawed. I have someone who understands me and sometimes the world treats her unfairly, is it wrong to want to help?
I never meant for it to get this far, but since Natalie it's like an urge. Like if someone looks at Charlotte the wrong way I have an animalistic urge to end it, to end them.
It’s not like I wanted to hurt Natalie, at least not at first, but she was the one who hurt Charlotte. She had been hurting her for months, and I wasn’t going to let it happen any longer.
I’d known Natalie since middle school. I knew almost everything about her. It’s not like I had been fantasizing about killing her for years.
It just happened.
Though, the professor had it coming. Nobody can deny that he deserved what I did to him. Making those nasty, perverted remarks at Charlotte.
What kind of man would I be to allow that?
Bryce was a mistake. He didn’t do anything wrong. I was actually quite fond of him. I had been since he started dating Nick a few months ago. He was one of the better people on this sick earth.
Wrong person, wrong place.
I don't think it's psychotic what I'm doing. When you hear about killers you assume one of two things.
Either they have a bad home life, like Richard Ramirez who was abused as a child. Except I wasn't abused, sure I had my own mundane problems, but nothing in comparison and nothing that caused shit to hit the fan.
Or they are just clinically insane. Like Albert Fish.
I'm not insane, I don't hear voices or see things. I just want to protect the one person who gives me the time of day.
Maybe by protecting her I'm also protecting myself, but I don't think it's selfish. Charlotte is amazing in ways I struggle to understand. She's thoughtful and charismatic, she listens but she also always knows how to make me laugh.
Charlotte’s a good person.
And I'd like to think that by protecting her l'm a good person too.
-
“Matt, what is that?” Charlottes voice spoke up from beside me. My body against hers as my papers were sprawled out in front of me. My eyebrows furrowed at her question.
“What do you mean?”
Fear covered her face as her eyes traced down. They stopped just above my arm, focusing directly on my wrist.
I quickly looked down, my eyes widening as well as I noticed my silver bracelet stained with red liquid. I sucked in a sharp breath, pursing my lips before pulling my sleeve down.
She wasn’t supposed to see that.
Her face remained in a panic liked state as her eyes met mine. Her expression sinking into confusion as she took hold of my wrist, pulling against my sleeve.
“Is that blood— are you bleeding?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she scanned the stained the material. I wanted to nod, maybe even put on a bandaid and keep her from asking anymore questions, but she wasn’t stupid.
Charlotte was many things, but she wasn’t stupid. She could point out a lie from a mile away, a small difference in someone’s tone. It was impressive that she hadn’t caught me yet.
I took my arm back, pulling my sleeve down one more. “It’s nothing.” I spoke cautiously. I didn’t want to necessarily lie, but I couldn’t exactly spit out the truth. Not yet at least.
My intentions were good, at least for her, but that doesn’t mean she’d forgive me for what I did.
“Matt that was blood.” She replied, barely audible but I heard her as tears started to brim her eyes. Her perfect fucking eyes. I hated when she cried. Seeing her upset made me upset. If she wasn’t happy than neither was I.
“It wasn’t.” I mumbled in response. She scoffed, shaking her head as she pushed herself off of my bed. I sighed, following her as I reached my arm out for hers. She quickly pulled back, wrapping her arms around her body.
I sighed as I took a step closer to her, letting my hands drop to my sides. Giving her a respectful amount of space.
She looked lost in thought, her eyes remaining on my covered wrist. The blood was dried, it was from hours ago.
There were police swarming our campus. Both bodies found in the span of five minutes. Collins first, Bryce second. Everyone was sent back to their rooms, doors locked as they suspected an active killer.
Although, nothing was released to the public yet. Nobody knew who was killed, except the first kids that walked in for their morning class.
“Can I see?” She spoke again, a soft breath from her lips as she looked up at me. I hesitated before pulling my sleeve again, the silver bracelet in her vision as the lines of dried blood coated the material.
“Please tell me that’s your blood.”
“Matt.”
“Charlotte.” I finally replied through a sigh. I didn’t want to lie to her. I just didn’t want her to know the extended truth. It wasn’t my blood, honestly I wasn’t sure whose it was. “It’s not mine.” I spoke again. She furrowed her eyebrows.
“Then whose is it?” She asked, letting go of my arm as she looked up at me. I hesitated. This could ruin everything. “Matt— if it’s not your blood, then why is someone else’s on you during a fucking campus lockdown, it makes you seem like you—” She cut herself off as her eyes widened.
“No.” She spoke again, her eyes finding mine again, practically begging for an answer. “You didn’t— you wouldn’t.” She laughed in denial, shaking her head. Once she noticed the lack of my reaction, her expression dropped again.
Silence.
“Charlotte.” I spoke after a few seconds, taking another step toward her. “Listen to me, alright? Just for a minute.” She shook her head again, her body language was so unfamiliar.
Distant, confused, and hurt but all directed at me.
“No, you’re supposed to listen to me. Just answer the goddamn question, why the fuck is your bracelet covered in someone’s blood?”
I pursed my lips as my heartbeat picked up in my chest. If I waited long enough maybe she’d forget. Or maybe she’d just figure out what really happen. That I killed her best friend. I killed her professor, and I killed my brothers boyfriend. But
But everything I did was for her.
She needed to understand that.
“Answer me, Matt!”
“Charlotte.” I snapped, placing my hands on her shoulders, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “Listen to me first.” I breathed out. “I did what I had to do. For us, for you—”
Her expression dropped once more, her face practically white at a those as she pushed my hands off of her. “You killed them?” She mumbled, taking a step back.
“Is that what you’re saying?” She asked. “Thats not your blood, because— whatever happened on campus today, it was you, wasn’t it?” She was speaking so fast, I wouldn’t doubt that she would pass out if she kept going.
I didn’t respond.
“Did you hurt someone- did you— did you- you killed someone, Matt?” She breathed out, her arms pressed tightly against her self. “We’ve been dealing with Natalie’s death, and you go and ruin someone else’s life?”
I looked at my feet, silence overtaking us for a few moments. My heart was racing, my breath short, she knew, and she wasn’t happy. Although, my silence wasn’t the answer, because it gave her more than she needed.
“You killed her.” She finally spoke.
My eyes met hers, as I pursed my lips again. I couldn’t respond, I couldn’t. She looked so hurt, so betrayed, when all I wanted to do was help her.
“You don’t care— you never cared about Natalie! All those stupid words you told me, that you missed her— you’re a liar!” She practically screamed at me, her eyes watering.
“I did it for you!” I replied, matching her tone as I took her wrists in my hand. She quickly shook her head, a look of disbelief on her face as she stepped back, bumping into the doorway.
My heart broke at the way she looked at me. Like she was scared of me, and I couldn’t blame her, but I hated it. I wanted her to look at me how she always did.
With love.
“Charlotte, please.” I begged, looking down at her with pleading eyes. She shook her head with a soft scoff, opening the door before slamming it in the matter of seconds. I wanted to run after her, bring her back into my room and tell her all night that everything was fine. That we were fine, but she had already made that decision.
I wasn’t sure how I expected her to react, but I never expected her to even find out. It was supposed to be a secret, but then again trying to keep a secret from someone like her is nearly impossible.
She could be going to run to her parents for all I knew. Going to hide from me, and tell someone what I did. I might be going to jail after all.
And I might lose her after all.
-
charlottes pov
The last place I needed to be right now was yet another college party. But despite my sour mood, I had friends expecting me and I wasn’t going to let them down.
I spent the past hours stuck in my room, my phone in my hand as I contemplated calling the police, telling them what Matt did, but as much as I wanted to I couldn’t.
It felt like my mind was on overdrive. Maybe he didn’t it, but it was obvious. He never exactly confirmed that he touched Natalie, but the aching pit in my stomach told me.
How could I have been so blind?
So blind to see that it was him all along. Every tear he wiped, word he said, all of it was a lie. He cried at the funeral, hugged her parents, and all along he was the one who shoved the knife through—
I took a deep breath.
Matt was back at his dorm, it didn’t matter. I mean it did, but it couldn’t. I love Matt more than anything, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to him. Even if he deserved it.
So for the sake of not completely falling apart again, I was going to pretend today never happened, and that everything was ok.
I hadn’t been to an outing like this since Natalie’s death, and it felt very real, very fast as I walk up to the front lawn. Red solo cups sprawled unevenly throughout the yard, with people already throwing up in the trimmed bushes.
The campus was still closed off, so with the help of a few friends, someone decided to throw a party just off campus and nearly everyone was there.
I walked in reluctantly, imperially being sucked in by loud rap music. The bass practically beating through my body as I looked around the thick crowds of people.
The sudden grasp on my waist caused me to turn around at lighting speed, panic rushing straight to my heart as I make sense of the face.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Nick laughed slightly, pulling me by the hand to a more quiet area in the living space. “I’m happy you’re here! I’ve missed you.”
I smiled. If anyones going to make my presence feel special it’s Nick. “It just feels weird being here now since… yeah.”
A frustrated breath left my lips after my words. Of course I immediately made the mood sad, it’s all I’ve been doing for the past two weeks.
“Hey, she’d be happy you’re here right now. If anyone’s going to take over her role as the obsessive party-goer it’s you.” Nick joked, taking a moment to look around at all the familiar faces.
“Have you seen Bryce anywhere?” He asked. I furrowed my eyebrows. “He hasn’t been texting me back, but his parents could’ve taken his phone away again so.”
I thought about every recent interaction I’ve had with Bryce, but I hadn’t spoken to him since he had helped me with a history assignment a few days ago. “I haven’t heard from him, I’m sure he’s fine though his parents are dicks.”
Nick just nodded slowly in response, it’s clear he was a bit worried, and I couldn’t really blame him. After Natalie’s death and Jackson going to jail for it everyone at this college is on edge.
My heart dropped at the thought.
Jackson.
He was still in jail, and he was innocent.
“Let’s get ourselves a drink yeah?” I asked as I placed my hand on his shoulder, guiding i’m to the kitchen. I just needed to forget, more than anything.
Forget about Natalie.
Forget about Jackson.
Forget about Matt.
It didn’t take long until we’re surrounded by wood cupboards, and large bottles of cheap liquor. I poured us both a cup of vodka mixed with cranberry juice before Chris called Nick to assist him with whatever drinking game he’d started.
I couldn’t really be bothered to take part, so I used this as my opportunity to explore the house.
Weirdly enough walking around all these random drunk students felt almost like an out of body experience. Like I was a spectator simply people watching as I sipped on my poorly rationed drink.
After a small amount of walking I find myself in some sort of man cave. Deer heads are mounted on the wall alongside numerous patriotic posters.
Definitely tacky.
For whatever reason the alcohol hit me like a brick, I was just unsure if it’s because of the sheer amount of vodka poured in or the combination of the antidepressants I was just started on.
Either way my head immediately begins to feel heavy and I opt to sit on the carpeted flooring, leaning my back against the wall.
I put the empty red cup down, I didn’t even realize I had finished it until it tipped over on the floor, and not a single drop of liquid poured out.
“What are you doing in here by yourself?” The vaguely familiar voice she spoke, entering the room before closing the door behind himself.
I squinted my eyes to get a better look at the figure that approaches me.
“Chris is that you?” I asked, my head still weighed down in between my bent knees. He just laughed from a distance as I was still unable to figure out who it is.
That was until he sat next to me, his face now illuminated by the ceiling lights. “Josh.” I gawked, rolling my eyes.
“Atta girl.” He smiled, handing me a cup of God knows what. “I got you a drink, figured you’d need to loosen up after the whole… situation.”
I nodded slowly, taking the cup from him and bringing the rim to my lips before wiping my mouth and replying. “Yeah it’s weird being here. Hard to be happy when I know she’d rather be here than me.” I confessed, the alcohol in my system acting like a truth serum.
Clearly making me oblivious as well.
“Not even happy that gay kids dead?” Josh spoke as he looked down at me, raising his eyebrow while mine furrowed.
I’m wasn’t entirely sure what takes over me but my breathing increased rapidly, vision altered and suddenly my hands feel numb. “What the fuck are you talking about J-Josh?”
Speaking was harder too, the words in my head are struggling to leave my mouth.
“It doesn’t matter pretty girl, he got what he deserved.” He replied, pushing himself closer to me and pushing a strand of hair from my ear. I furrowed my eyebrows. “What— no— he didn’t.” I shook my head, squinting my eyes as I looked at Josh. Everything becoming blurred.
He let out a soft sigh. “Just relax, please?” He asked. I shook my head, trying to push myself to my feet, but he pulled me back onto the ground. I landed against my knees. His hands coming in contact with my hips.
“Charlotte.” He groaned at my action, holding my hips tighter. I shook my head again once his hands came in contact with the waistband of my shorts. There was something in the drink, and he put it there.
Fuck.
My breathing picked up as his hands came closer to me again. I was going to pass out soon enough, and he was stronger than me. There won’t be anything I could do. My vision turned into a gun rack just in front of me, the door halfway open.
I pushed myself toward the door, his hands not leaving my sides as he tugged at the fabric again, clearly eager.
“Where are you going—”
He began to speak, but was ultimately cut off by the sound of a gunshot firing through the air. My eyes widened as I watched him fall back, hitting the table before falling flat against the floor.
The gun in my hand.
I covered my mouth with my hands, quickly dropping the gun to the floor before looking down at him again, blood pooling quickly around him.
In a second without thought I ripped my jacket from my body, pressing it against the ground in hopes to clean it to the best of my ability.
“Charlotte?” Matt’s voice rang. I quickly turned my head around, my eyes meeting his as I stood from my bruised knees, momentarily pausing my movements of cleaning up the mess in front of me. The same mess I created.
“Matt, there’s blood—” I breathed out, my hands shaking by my side as his body laid under my feet. His lifeless body. That I caused. His blood spread around the carpet, soaking into the material as it approached my shoes.
I took a step back, stumbling slightly at my own action. My hands came in contact with the table behind me, keeping me steady and upright.
It was hard to think about how upset with him I was. Considering the fact that now I had done the same thing; take another life.
“There is.” He nodded, looking down at the floor before looking back toward me. “It’s ok.” Matt assured, stepping closer to me before placing his hands on my shoulders.
My gaze went to his, panicked breaths leaving my lips as my hands continued to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was the fear, or the poisoned drink running through my veins.
Either way I was screwed.
“I killed him.” I spoke again, my breath shaken as I closed my eyes in my own defeat. The sound of my own heartbeat filling my ears.
Matt rubbed my arms gently before he shook his head. “No you didn’t.” He replied, scanning my face. I furrowed my eyebrows, fighting the urge to give in to the weakness overcoming my body.
“I did.” He spoke again. I shook my head, moving my hands onto his hips, keeping myself upright. I didn’t understand what he was saying, what he was trying to do. “Matt, I shot Josh, because he tried to—”
Because his eyebrows as I cut myself off, closing my eyes as I fell against his chest. His arms instantly coming around my waist.
“Hey, woah.” He breathed out, rubbing my back to try and keep me apart. “What did he try to do?” He asked. I didn’t respond, my mouth not opening.
He let out a heavy sigh, quickly moving me so I was leaning against the wall in front of him. My hands falling to my side. He placed his against my jaw, moving me so I was looking at him.
“Listen. You don’t go anywhere. Stay here, let me get something to clean this. Just stay here, please.” He spoke.
I nodded slowly, closing my eyes again as I pulled my knees to my chest, suddenly oblivious to the blood pooling around me.
“I love you.” I breathed out as I realized how fast my heart was racing. Whatever was in that drink was strong, and it was hitting me fast.
He furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head. “I- I love you too, but you’re going to be fine. Just stay here.” He spoke, before pushing himself from the ground and leaving the room.
My eyes opened again to trace his body. I watched him walk out the room, my eyes remaining on his blue sweater, silver jewelry, and the shoes that I loved.
The sight of him eased my mind from the fear coursing through my veins. That was until he left my sight, now an empty hallway filling my vision. My eyes turned from the door to the floor in front of me, the rifle on the floor.
“Fuck.” I mumbled, pushing myself forward and grabbing the gun. I slowly pulled myself to my feet, the gun in my hand as I looked down at Josh. The boy I had killed.
I went to put the gun back into the case, but before I could my body froze. A sudden ringing in my ears as I involuntary stumbled backward. Fast breaths leaving my lips before all of the sound in the world came back.
“Take the gun.” An unfamiliar voice spoke harshly, the gun being taken out of my hands while a pain radiated through my stomach. My hands were placed over the area, before my eyes widened.
Blood.
My blood.
I swear I could feel my heart drop down to my feet, my chest heating up as I looked down again. My eyes were met with my stomach, more blood seeping through my shirt.
When my eyes drifted up again they were met with three officers, one of them holding their gun directly at me. A faint line of smoke leaving the end.
He shot me.
Before I could think again I was back into the floor, my head coming in contact with the ground sharply. My body felt like it was on fire, my vision ten times worse than it had been.
If I wasn’t dying before, I certainly was now.
My stomach was burning, and I knew there was nothing I could do. It was like I was looking through the world with a kaleidoscope. Just like when I was a kid. The colors and shapes collided into an array of one.
For some reason, once the pain in my body subsided, all I could feel was peace.
I was simply numb. Physically and mentally numb. Nothing could hurt me, no one could hurt me. I was safe, I was happy. As much as I could be for nothing my fate.
The last thing I saw was the familiar blue sweater making its appearance at the doorway, the same sweater that I refused to take off for months. The sweater that smelt like Matt’s cologne. The boy I loved more than anything.
The boy that I’d die for.
“Matt—” I breathed out, barely forming the world before finally, my mind had been cut off for one last time.
Finally, the world had went black.
ੈ✩‧₊˚
a/n: sincerely, sienna and grace
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heat lightning
6.5k | sub!joel miller x f!reader
gif credit: @jdmorganz
rating: 18+ MDNI
warning: NO OUTBREAK. established relationship, no age gap – up to you for joel's age but he has creaky knees so..., sub!joel, bratty!joel??, mommy kink, rope kink, dom/sub dirty talk, joel whimperin' n whinin', gagging, choking, slapping, spitting, edging (m receiving), oral (f receiving - face riding), piv (unprotected), praise kink (good boy, etc.), pet names (pet, baby boy, honey, etc.), a touch of humiliation/degradation kink (spoiler: a moment of cock shaming – every body is a lovely body!), size kink (he still got that thang tho), we walk by breeding ave., sickly sweet aftercare, lingerie. dude if i missed it - it's probably in here! no use of y/n
A/N: thank u to the sweet anon (u know who u are) who requested this almost a month ago. i hope it was worth the wait! love youuuuu!!! ♡
Joel liked having his way. Shocking.
This concept drew you to him, not only because you enjoyed being told what to do (every now and then), but even more that you wanted to challenge why he needed things to be his way in the first place.
You’ve been with Joel long enough now to know the mix of events that made him who he was. Nights and days where he felt insecure for exposing all there was to him, but he was willing to fish it out of him to you.
Only to you.
Tonight wasn’t unlike a handful of nights the two of you shared since being together and unraveling Joel’s vulnerability. It was beautiful, and in moments of softness, it was easy to reflect on how far he’d come. But, right now? You’re a little preoccupied.
---
It started earlier tonight. Joel refused to wear contacts for the fourth time in a week, and forgot his glasses just as much.
And guess who had to remind him? You! Of course! Every. Single. Time.
To wear his glasses, or put his contacts in. But the week was busy at work – Tommy gone off again. Or at least, this was his excuse. More and more excuses poured throughout the week until it was a mere grunt at your suggestion.
Your knuckles blanching until you just gave up entirely.
“Ah, fuck,” you hear from the kitchen, the view of Joel rubbing his eyes not long after the sound.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” words are sharp and you clench your teeth. It catches Joel off guard at first, his head shooting up to meet your cold stare. And before he can make an attempt to straighten you out, you stand up – rushing to the kitchen. “I tell you this at least twice a fucking week. ‘Joel, wear your glasses. Joel, have you put your contacts in today?’ you know why your eyes hurt so fucking much? Because you don’t listen to me, and I’m sick of it.”
“You know it’s been a rough week,” Joel’s tyrannical now, his jaw setting – ticking forward.
“Oh, I’m sorry – did I give you permission to speak?” you raise an eyebrow waiting for a reaction, but instead you witness the shift of his hips and the drop of his gaze.
He feels the energetic shift as much as you do, and seems into it. The hitch in his breath gave him away.
“No, ma’am.”
“Bedroom. Now. Swear to god, if you make me repeat myself.”
So he goes and you follow. And you bring a dining chair with you.
Placing it down, you go to the closet to grab some clothes before turning your heel to face a man whose cock shouldn’t be so fucking hard from getting your last nerve.
“I’m going to change, and you are going to sit on this chair. Naked. Do I need to repeat myself?”
Joel beseeches you silently with his dark stare and a steadfast shake of his head, “No, ma’am.”
You don’t respond because you don’t have to and usher yourself to the bathroom – door shuts behind you and you slip into something more dominating.
---
“Darlin’, it’s a little tight,” Joel rattles now, his strength to hold back waning. The rope that curled around the strong arches of his wrists tug harshly as it found tautness from behind the chair.
His wrists and ankles tied with knots that Joel taught you how to tie long ago.
The chair at the foot of the bed.
Feet planted firmly on the ground, you peer over him, changed into laced lingerie with leather accents. Red. Cinched at the waist, your tits bloom out from the cups — daring to spill but never do. You feel sexy, and you feel in control. And fuck, you look so good. Joel knows it, the way he sops you up just by his eyes.
He’s shorter than you like this, but his body still takes up so much space, and it’s intoxicating to observe Joel in such a submissive position in his sturdy frame.
“Is Darlin’ my name?” voice flat, you prop yourself up on the edge of the chair – tilting your head to scan over his body. You take your time with each part of him. Because his wrists are tied, yes, but you look down at the rest of him, completely stripped for you. His hips jolt involuntarily, pathetically really, all from your words and you really watch between his legs. The head of his cock pulsing with blush, weeping against his stomach and thigh as it arches. And he twitches at your gaze.
“Oh, he likes that,” you remark condescendingly, and on any other day you’d be eager to wrap your lips around him. To suck him until his toes curled and your name slipped through the air from his rough, but blissed out voice. But tonight was about taking the lead, teaching a lesson. Taking him how you wanted because you could. And maybe because you loved him and wanted him to experience – to just experience without the expectation of being in command.
“Now, tell me,” you start, teasing the tops of your fingernails grazing the length of his thigh slowly – humming in approval, his body shuddering, his grunts fill the air, “what’s my name, Joel?”
“M-mommy,” the word scorches his cheeks, causing him to bite into his bottom lip and his eyes squeeze shut, precum beading to the tip. His head hangs in unbearable arousal, chin lifting to catch your eyes. The soft brown of his eyes, full of desire and willingness to do anything for you. Anything… except doing what he’s told when he’s stubborn. Your core aches when you squeeze your thighs together for relief, but you don’t falter.
“Mommy!” a fake gasp, you lean over to pat him on the cheek before smacking the skin ten percent harder, “That’s right! Good boy!”
And that wrecks him, sends his hips flying off the seat as much as he can, but you’re quick to shove them down. “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, Mommy’s not done with you yet,” your fingers curl under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.
“How can you make me feel good, pet? Let’s use our words,” you lean down enough for him to see your tits pushed together like this and the look on his face– god, you’d bottle it. His brows wilted upwards, lips parting, and they’re so wet, so inviting, you want to kiss them for hours. The right toy for you to use in pursuit of getting yourself off.
“I—I c’n use my mouth. I wanna. Wanna be good t’ya, mama,” and he’s almost begging. He’s so close, you can tell he’s trying. It’s just that, he’s distracted– wants to devour you whole without having to ask, not like this. He’s still not used to saying the things you so easily offer him on any other day.
“You wanna be good to me,” you repeat mockingly, tongue darting to one side of your cheek, “That’s too bad. We’re not doing that yet, you still need to learn your lesson. Gotta make sure you know who’s in charge, don’t we, darlin’?”
You don’t let him answer before you sit back at the edge of the bed, your legs spread as they relax against the mattress. You watch Joel, how his head won’t look at you directly – not even if he wants to. He feels too shy, too ashamed for not listening to you, and honestly you’re sick of it because you look fucking hot.
So you clap your hand at his chin lightly, “Miller. Right here.”
Joel’s jaw clenches, and those deep eyes take their precious time to rake their gaze over you.
“Is that how you act when a gorgeous lady’s in front of you?”
Joel lifts his brows first, then his eyes, “No, baby– I’m sorr–”
“Not my name.”
You see Joel’s mandible flutter again in frustration now because yes, you’re grinding his gears, but the vulnerability makes him uncomfortable, and he grits out, “No, mommy. I’m. Sorry.”
“You’re on thin fucking ice Joel,” your arms cross over your chest, leaning forward to make eye contact, and though it makes your tits raise, your body language says it all: last chance.
That seems to make him reroute his stubbornnesses because he’s back to open expressions and spread thighs – thick as his cock that weeps pitifully against his abdomen and thigh.
“Yes, ma’am.”
If you were to admit it to yourself, you’re distracted. His cock looks so good, throbbing like that – bobbing with each twitch as his balls tighten along with it and he’s so perfectly thick your mouth waters, but it is not about making his ego feel good tonight. Not yet, anyway. He must understand this behaviour is unacceptable. Just when you think about caving, you’re reminded of how fucking obstinate he’s been and you get annoyed – dominant, all over again.
“Here’s how tonight's gonna go. I’m gonna touch myself, use your mouth, and if you’re good, I’ll ride your pathetic excuse of a cock. Sound good?” you flash a sardonic grin cutting him off when his mouth opens, “Good! Now shut the fuck up.”
It shouldn’t make him hard and it shouldn’t make slick gather between your legs, but of course it does because you’re both insatiable when it comes to each other. Fueling a fire that can’t be tamed anyway, you unfurl in front of him – one palm against the lush duvet while the other trails in front of you, through the lace of your panties. You squeeze your thighs together again, spreading your mess and there’s a wicked grin on your face because you know he knows just how it feels to have those thighs squeezing around his head. To make that messy pussy of yours glide over his features. And the damp fabric emits subtle sloshes from just how turned on you are by this. You love the opportunity to have the upperhand.
Joel, he looks rabid, eyes unable to move from your core while the sweetest sounds fall out of your mouth. Like a hypnotising trick from the circling of your clothed folds – a magician’s secret. His stare is so animalistic you almost want to egg him on like a dog: this what you want, boy? But you’ve got him right where you want him, and you don’t want to take him anywhere else.
“It feels good, Joel,” you confirm with no pornographic moans. Rather a solid melody to your tone. Grounded in your power. You want Joel to know you can make yourself feel good without him, despite it being very much because of him. “Better than you can make me feel.”
And Joel can’t take it anymore – he can’t stand it when you lie to him. He’s seen you with him. How you blossom under his touch until your thighs are shaking all on their own. Seen drool spill from the corners of your mouth as you take and take and take from him, slurred praises floating from your needy throat.
“That ain’t fuckin’ true,” he growls like a caged animal, hips squirming into the chair, and you stop pleasing yourself – wrist frozen as the pressure on your clit becomes lighter, eyes narrow.
“Did I let you fucking speak?” Question rhetorical, you slip your scanty panties off and wad them up before prying his mouth open and shoving them, crotch-side first, inside to mute any more rebukes. The taste of your sex coats his tongue and his moans are muffled, eyes roll back for a fleeting moment – as if he forgot what he was even saying to begin with. His wrists slightly turning colour from the resistance against the rope. Hog heaven, you can hear the southern phrase drawl from his lips without the words.
“And what? You think you can make me feel better than I can? You really think that?” Joel finally smartens up when he realises you’re naked from the waist down and can see the slick against the seams of your thighs while your legs are apart – how turned on you are by keeping him on a line, and god the air is thick. His eyelids droop to the sound of your voice, the scent and taste of you overcoming him as a piteous nod is given to you. Poor baby.
It should irk you, the fact that he believes he knows your body better than you do, but it rakes the coals instead. It’s in that he’s so eager to show you how he can get you there – makes you curious, your pussy tingles in anticipation, pulse rises.
“If I let you go, are you going to be compliant? Because if you think you’re in control, you’re wrong and I need to know you’ll be a good boy for me. Will you be a good boy for mommy if I tell you what to do?”
The strained pleas from the fabric and emphatic nods give you reason to follow through with your promise. And he looks like he means it, like you’ve worn him down to submit to you fully without restraint. You can tell he’s in pain from how hard he is. Like he’s being edged without even touching him. His hands must be numb, his body could tremble at the slightest touch.
It’s enough for you to waltz behind him. You loosen the rope, ghosting your hands over the other typically warm set and despite them being tingly – he can still feel you. His breath hitches, the slopes of his shoulders are so gorgeous from behind. The muscles of his back taut as they flex, their silent entreat for relief. “It’s okay,” you whisper, now that you can’t see him, you feel more inclined to be forgiving.
The arousal is a constant build between the two of you. When you let his wrists loose, he doesn’t move. Just rolls his knuckles into fists, bringing blood and oxygen back to the extremities. He’s good on his word, and makes that known when you untie his ankles. He’s giving it up to you – totally conceding, and moreover adores this side of you. He knows he’s the only one you could ever be this assertive with because the relationship you have creates room for it. Both of you feel safe. His teeth tighten around your panties when you come back around to him, and you cup your small hand, comparatively, to the side of Joel’s neck.
“You good little thing. Got mama so proud,” pushing his curls back, you pull the spit-soaked garment from between his teeth and he’s beaming, nudging his cheek against your touch hungrily. “Go lie on the bed, honey.”
His joints creak from age when he does, having sat there for what felt like an eternity but he does exactly as you say: nothing more, nothing less. Hums softly to himself at the feeling of being able to lie flat on his back because it feels so good, and in the brief moment it’s there without a role – your adoration for him, the gentle quirks that make him so delectable. He deserves to sit back like this, to let his brain just take rather than supply.
However impatient he may be in the process of submission.
“You are doing so well, Joel. I know you have a pristine mouth too, don’t you? Are you gonna show me your tongue?” Getting onto the bed, you walk on your knees as this newly obedient Joel sticks out his tongue flat for you to float over. Your throat dries at that, how perfect he can be for you like this. A smirk comes over your features, “Much better with your tongue out than running it all the time,” and you swear you see Joel’s teeth creep up in a similar smile, but you’re busy straddling his waist with your ass facing his chest to notice.
His strong nose bumps against your clit when you bracket his head. Sipping the air abrasively, your body seizes at the sensation. Clearly more sensitive than your confident words let on, but that’s just the thing – you are confident and extremely horny and you can admit it. So you give in, purring deliciously when you lower over his mouth until you’re sitting completely on his face.
“Love using this mouth for my cunt,” fingers tangle through the strands of his hair and you use it to roll your hips frantically, yet methodically, against the heat of his wet mouth. His tongue hits your folds succinctly, on purpose, and even though you haven’t allowed him to touch you, his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s rolling your hips for you.
“Fuck, you’re swimming in it now,” you groan, neck thrown back before leaning your neck over to the side to watch his eyes flutter shut – the slight shake of his achy jaw, the sweat at the top of his hairline. He’s putting in the work to take it, even when he feels like giving up.
The squelching of your juices has you in your own trance, and though you would wait for his cock to give into the prickling at the pit of your belly, you decide to go give in to what you want in the moment – to orgasm right here, right now. All over Joel’s face.
Pulling the top of your pubic bone, your clit exposes to the plush of lips beneath you. “Suck.” The instruction is simple compared to the stir of fireworks that he sets off inside you. Because he does what you say, and how you say it, instantly. Joel’s eyes roll back alongside his muffled, but satisfied moans that vibrate against the bundle of nerves he’s taking his time to satisfy. Wet suction sounds fill the room when the air breaks off, his tongue swirling right underneath the hood of you and you break out in a sweat from how impossibly good he is at this.
“Y-you’re so good for mommy,” you sound wrecked, Joel looks up at you when he catches just how gone you are. Loving to see you take what you want from him, using his mouth to pleasure yourself. You rock deeply, your hands knead over your lace-covered tits and when you look down at him again, he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Eating you like he worships you, and you’re certain he does.
But using him meant not warning him when you were close.
So it comes as no surprise, the influx of low, masculine, ached groans from beneath you when your body responds to its pleasure. Your fingernails dig into your fists as you shudder and moan above him, the lightning rising from your core to your limbs in a matter of seconds – and in waves. You lean forward, catching yourself at the headboard and let out a slight chuckle at the comedown. The two of you surfacing in between this power dynamic. “Shit.”
That’s short lived under your ruling, however, and you slide off of him – getting your bearings. Joel stays still, his mouth vivid pink to match his cheeks, beard and lips sheened with your slick. The look in his eye shows his constraint, his need for something and when you pluck your gaze down his body. His beautiful cock straining against his abdomen, a pool of precum greets you.
“This?” You raise both eyebrows, pointing between his legs, “This needs touchin’?”
“Please,” fuck, he sounds ruined – consumed with lust and need for anything you can give him. He’s really begging now, not the bullshit he tried to deliver you in the beginning.
“Okay, baby,” you coo, “You’re so good for me, gonna make you feel so good.” When you finally, finally acknowledge his cock, his abdomen jolts though you barely touch his sides. You laugh through your nose briefly, “That bad, darlin’?” His head sways ‘yes’ against the pillow before saying it, and you waste no more time in your pursuit to obliterate him now.
So you straddle him. Right at his waist, angling above where his twitching cock lies. You can feel the heat radiate off the both of you. Your core pulsing from your orgasm, wet from slick and spit. You have some wits about you now that you came, and it aids you in authorising the next step – the step that has every nerve at the edge of its seat for Joel.
Joel’s body. The taut skin, the hair down his arms and across the landscape of his chest down his middle. Your own body fills with anticipation when you anchor your hips further down until your folds are greeted by the underside of his length and it’s unhurried when you both shudder in response.
“Sh-shit, shit, darlin’–mama,” he inhales sharply, those words transitioning to whimpers when you glide your hips over his cock back and forth with intention – applying more pressure with each pass.
“Yeah, you like that?”
Joel’s tongue skates over his bottom lip as he nods frantically, and you still yourself.
“Nuh uh. Words, tell me. Need to hear you say it, Joel.”
“F-feels so good, honey. Feels like my kinda paradise.”
Or at least that’s what you are pretty sure you hear. It’s rushed from his feverish breaths, but he’s doing his best. Wants to make an impression that he is committed to giving in. It’s when his eyes slip shut do you lean your body over him, tilting his chin, you wrap one hand around his throat though it doesn’t quite reach around to completion.
“You beautiful man. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”
Joel blinks them open to see your hooded eyes above him, unable to hide just how in awe he is.
“Y’look gorgeous, mama,” and shit– you feel your cunt clench around the absence of him at that. At how candid and altruistic his words are in the moment.
“You’re one to talk,” you run the tops of your fingers against his beard, hips languid. “Stay right here. My good boy. M’gonna take this big fucking cock. That’s right, isn’t it? Make you know for certain who it belongs to.”
And he loves hearing you talk about him like this. Looks so serene as you sit upright, peeling the rest of your layers off until you’re both naked and he looks like he desperately wants to touch you, but you give him a stern look – not yet. Not until I take you myself.
Reaching behind, you press the head of his cock at your entrance and hiss at the instant stretch. Not working yourself up with his fingers shows when you envelop him like this, and you can feel him digging his heels into the bed from just how you feel around the head of him.
“M-Mommy!”
The sound of him whining is symphonic to your ears.
“Shhhh, you can take it.” The role reversal makes you shiver, your wet sex moving down a little more before you pull up, popping off of him completely and his hips stammer trying to follow you, but he soon realises the edge you’re bringing him to.
He’s greeted with your sinister smile.
“What, honey?” You lean over him, forcing his chin up, you deliver a slap to his cheek before sliding down his cock again – working him up and down, then off again.
His bottom lip trembles and puffs. He’s losing his cool, hands ghosting your hips because he knows better than to touch you like this. Not when he’s so close to getting what he wants. The heat, the fucking heat from them – you shake.
“P-p, mama, mmngh,” his whimpers put you in a daze. How he feels so good he can’t even form a proper sentence. Your free hand claws at his chest while the other at your front edges him – rocking against the underside of him again. Minutes feel like hours when you rile him up like this, and you know you look a mess too. Fucked out, nipples peaked and you catch his gaze on them – his hunger for you extends through the room leaving heat on your skin as it radiates, the energy bouncing off from this tantric experience. The eye contact is insane: Joel’s pupils dilated, eager against the constant spasm of his cock against your messy folds.
All humidity, sweat, and sex make their presence irrevocably known.
You’re slipping.
But you muster one last discipline, leaning down so your tits graze against his chest. You brush your nose against his, insisting his precum spreads against your entrance. He grunts, teeth together, hips grinding as best as he can without breeding you into your submission. And fuck, you’d almost allow it.
Almost.
“Should’ve worn your fucking glasses.” You whisper against his lips, your clit brushing against the coarse hairs of his lower abdomen, and it’s exactly then does he spill over his breaking point.
“I’ll wear them, I’ll wear them!” And, fuck, Joel sounds pained – he sounds sorry, and he sounds desperate. “Please! Please just let me come, mama. I wanna paint ya up so good, honey. P-please, mama! I’ll get fuckin’ lasik – please, just lemme in that perfect pussy!”
That’s the green light.
Placing him back inside, your hips grind on him shallowly. Both hands tighten around his throat, albeit a bit looser than the one fist he’d have around your neck – but it seems to do the trick and you buzz in satisfaction before a choked moan fills your lungs: the sound he’s been craving. Your body giving in, doing what it does. It’s nature, after all, giving into these feelings. “Fucking take this cunt. Fill mommy up, yeah? You wanna make me a real mama, baby? C’mon, let go for me. You can let go, you can move.”
It’s a lightswitch. It’s flipping a breaker, giving Joel such permission.
You yelp when he tosses you off of him. Onto your back, he’s on his knees within a blink – gripping your thighs, he pries you apart before his cock spears inside you with little remorse, and “Oh-my god – your cock!” you scream. It’s exactly what you need now. You nod through knitted brows, praises fill the space between you. You take his chin between your thumb and pointer, one arm around his shoulders you pry his lips apart to transfer spit right inside his mouth. Your tongue glides over his and he drinks straight from the source. You can feel his Adam's apple wobble as it swallows what you’re giving him underneath the pad of your thumb. “That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you mutter sloppily from the rutting of his deviant hips.
Gravity’s against you when you spit in his mouth again, getting some of it on your chin and nose, but fuck, you don’t care. You want it filthy like this with your head half off the bed, his fingers plucking your nipples as it ripples pleasure down your center. “I’m doin’ okay, mama? This whatcha need?” This sly fucker. “S-s’perfect!” The requirement of reassurance fastens you in the leadership role you assumed in the beginning, and you’re so fucking thrilled Joel’s your partner. How he can deliver you mindblowing thrusts, yet still look at you through his lashes like he’s the softest motherfucker on the planet. A gleam of pride in his eyes and at the corner of his lips when he hears your juices be tapped in a fast tempo by his heavy balls. Like giving you pleasure is the pearl he longs to hold for dear life itself in his capable hands.
Of course, he circles your clit for good measure. Of course he would. Little shit. It works like a charm.
He knows your body, said it himself. How it operates, how to take you there. And you’re panting, hips lift to be greeted by his thrusts all the way to the base of your stomach – achieving the spongy spot only Joel can reach.
You feel it happen like a coiling, a buildup of thin air and then all at once: immense pleasure. It snaps, your body convulsing around his cock, core fluttering as your moans get higher, and you think he’d slow down, but it makes him work harder. You try to keep your eyes on him, but it’s just no use, he’s too good at his job. “F-fuckin’, mmngh,” you can’t get out much else, but you’re soaking his cock – what else could possibly be said? Your tits bounce to his thrusts and you can tell this is it for him. He’s been so proficient at keeping it together all this time. Your eyes pop open then, lips wet, you tug for him to come closer. You don’t fucking care that his sweat sticks to your shoulder when he buries his forehead against your neck.
Joel keeps his whimpers close to your ear. His moans of your name, his passion for this feeling – all of it, right against you. Like a secret, like a prayer and you’re the divine goddess in every moment of reverence.
“Can’t last,” he drawls, a coherent sentence flows through him for a moment and you nod, mouth brushing against the red of his neck. “Give it to me, Joel.” Lips dance at his pulsepoint as the contact bounces from his thrusts, and you can hear his heart thud from outside his body. It floods you, the sawing of his cock inside, the swelling sensation against your walls. Tugging his hair, you pull him back just enough to see his faded eyes, “Give me every drop, baby boy. Come for mommy.”
His lips attempt to make contact with yours, but really all he can do is breathe heavily into your mouth and it’s dizzying, being each other’s oxygen. “S-s… so p-perf–,” he tries, he really tries in making the words connect, but even his core feels shaky from his forearms on either side of your head. You snake your hands around his throat once more, and that’s fucking it.
Joel’s sounds are a mix of the low grunts you know, tailending with particular whimpers that leave you moaning back to him like a call to each other. Holy fuck, you’ve never heard him make that sound before. And he’s good on his promise – coating your inside sticky with his substance, your own vibrational tone is low in your throat as you hum in approval. Until he rides it out. Until his pleasure turns sensitive and his hips come to an end.
“Oh, baby,” you praise, delicate hands leaving his throat, you pet his back – warm and masculine and rippled with muscles that he attained from his work. He’s out of breath, and you both laugh at it, pressing tender kisses to his nose and lips.
“Might fuckin’ die at this rate.”
“Well, at least we had a good run.”
It feels empty when Joel pulls out of you, his lanky body shakes the bed when he gracefully thwacks onto the mattress beside you.
“Mmmng.”
A flawless response. Mmmng, indeed.
You stretch your arms overhead, facilitating a yawn in the process.
And you don’t ignore the way it feels to have his cum spill out of you. Hot and sticky and where it’s meant to be.
“Stay there,” you whisper, rolling onto your side, “You did so good. I’m so proud of you, baby.” You even speak differently now – tender and light, peppering kisses all over his tired face in satisfaction. Slipping up to your feet, you go to the adjoined bathroom and run the bath. Putting a couple of drops of your favourite essential oil to make the sensual experience last in the afterglow. You peek your head out from the bathroom door when it’s ready and give him a gentle look of compassion. “It’s ready.”
Joel grunts when he propels all of his upper body strength to sit up in one go. You can’t get enough of him. The way he looks – sleepy and fucked, arms thick and shoulders broad. You have both earned this bath, even if it’s crowded. He sinks in, and you get in front of him, and honestly you both close your eyes for a long while. Exhausted, used. He wraps his arms around the front of your shoulders, and it’s regulatory to your nervous system.
“I really am sorry,” he finally gruffs, wide palms cater to your shoulders as you melt and sink into the bathwater with him. “This week’s been… it don’t matter. You tell me ‘bout my eyes all the time, and I never listen. I will, I promise. I didn’t mean t’make your life harder.”
You frown at the last bit, turning in the water so your chest is against his. Drops spill out the tub when you do.
“You never make my life harder, Joel.”
“Seems like it,” and you can tell he’s not saying it to play the victim. He’s vulnerable and feels safe enough to share this shame with you. “Seems like I end up fuckin’ somethin’ up.”
No. You won’t be having any of that.
Taking his cheeks between your hands, you shake your head in tandem with your words. “Not even close, do you understand?” Sternly, you keep his eyes poured into yours. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it. You make everyday brighter. Even when you’re a royal pain in my ass.”
You both join in with laughter before you rest your warmed cheek to the hairs on his chest. “I swear.”
Joel’s throat vibrates to the tune of your last words, and fingers comb through your hair, leaving you both to flutter your eyes shut in the all-too-small bathtub.
“Okay, I believe you. But only ‘cuz I’m a pain in your ass.”
You take in his warmth, so much as sniffing at his words, and it feels good to be connected like this after those moments of taking matters into your own hands. It feels good for both of you to be unarmed to each other without consequence.
When it's time for you to get out, you dry off before holding out a towel to wrap around him and you lean up, pressing your lips to his – both naked and comfortable. Basking in the aftermath – the scene you two created in the bedroom you transition into. Your eyes scan over the bed: the unkept version of sheets, pillows haphazardly thrown together and you individually slip your clothes on. It feels nice to have a soft fabric cloak over your skin, his t-shirt fitting easily from the worn material. Joel takes your hand in one of his, the dining chair in the other. You look back at the room before flipping the light off. At least for a moment, you’re both pretty tired and will work around the mess soon.
Then there's the kitchen. Where it started. But you don’t feel the same aggravation creep up as it did before. Instead, Joel wraps his arms protectively around you when you rise to your tiptoes to grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard. It feels like slipping into a warm pool, and you never want to leave. He is more enchanting than the tub could ever be.
“Hot liquid for my man?”
“Y’could just say tea, I ain’t gonna gag, you know?”
You snicker, turning the kettle on and closing your eyes as his chin tucks at the crease of your neck, not so sure he means it. Coffee? Yes. A blend of chamomile and lavender? You weren’t so sure. But he doesn't turn his nose up when you press the teabag to him, so you sneak a kiss and you plop one bag in each cup.
“I dunno, you might gag,” a knowing smirk grows at the side of your cheek that Joel’s at and you mercifully knock temples, as if your brain waves could send each other the memories you have from tonight. Everything primal and raw, all for the both of you.
“No more gaggin’ tonight,” there’s a laugh in Joel’s words and you scratch his beard idly as you pour your hot drinks when it’s time. “That’s alright, baby boy. Mama can handle a little bit of gagging if it means you’re taking.”
“You better watch it,” smile behind his voice, his nose nudges the edge of your jaw and a shudder draws out a small purr from deep in your chest – especially because you know there’s not an ounce of a menacing tone behind the threat.
“I’m not doing anything,” the grin transfers to your face and you turn to face him, arms wrapping around his shoulders because you can and he pulls you up until your feet leave the ground. It’s a stretch that feels good, your heart’s content.
“Yeah, you’re just so good. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be bad unlike us common folk.”
And that makes your cheeks rush with blood because you know it’s only a matter of time before the tables turn. Before you’re caught doing something Joel has told you thousands of times to do or don’t, and he has you in some precarious position to drive you back to the version of your best self.
Still, it’s funny, and you nose against the column of his neck – all sweat still mixed with the bathwater and something so innately, masculinely, Joel Miller. “Not too good, just clever. I get away with a lot more than you think, old man.”
“Easy.” His tone shifts all too easily into a warning, his hips pinning you to the edge of the countertop. Your eyes widen before you press your index finger to his lips, shushing him.
“Relax,” you pet his shoulders, before leaning up to kiss his eyelids, “I like that you’re an old, senile man I can swindle.”
“Goddamn, you’re at record time in attempting to prove just how misbehaved y’really are.”
Finishing the tea, you hand his mug off with a nonchalant shrug.
“I learn from the best, I guess.”
You wait a beat.
“So… lasik, huh?”
Joel practically chokes on his beverage. “Uhhh…,”
“Great! I’ll book the appointment tomorrow!”
You won’t (probably), but the look on his face is priceless.
“Yeah, yeah.” That makes Joel smile eventually, his rough hand cupping the side of your face before planting a dichotomously tender kiss to your forehead, and you are steadfast to reciprocate the affection.
The only thing that matters, anyway.
No matter all the hardships, the restless nights. It’s this. It’s delivering Joel to his knees as he worships you, then securing him with a warm cup of liquids in the form of tea, bath, the undulating nature of your arms in their energetic vibrations when they find his frame.
You would take care of him. You would catch him.
Like how rivers bend and rush to oceans:
Everything leads back to him.
taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @scarletthefierce @pedritoferg - comment to be added, and please let me know if i missed you!
#bee's requests#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#sub!joel#sub!joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#tlou fic#tlou#tlou smut#tlou fanfiction#bratty!joel#bratty!joel miller#by bee#joel the last of us#the last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller the last of us
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If you want some other game recommendations from a huge gamer that is NOT Hogwarts Legacy, I got you bc we do not support antisemitism or transphobia.
Full disclaimer: If your advocacy goes as far as for Trans and Jewish voices to fall on deaf ears about a VIDEOGAME?!? Then, you were never an ally to begin with.
But, as a videogame lover and player, I will make other recommendations for you to play if you really need a good game that will support the rights of other people and is not built on hate!
If you really want a wizard game:
Play Skyrim and Eldan Ring! Those are two great open-world/build your character/magic games that don’t center around magic but have magic nonetheless! They actually have more spells and than this stupid game centered around wizards! Plus, they both have HUGE open worlds that will take (I promise) hundreds of hours to play and explore.
Play the Witcher!!! Although I have not played it, my sister raves left and right about the Witcher 3! It’s a choice-based, super long, world-heavy game that just immerses you in both magic and spells from the get go! Although not a ton of spells, it’s a timeless game and WAY ahead of it’s time.
If you really want a choice based game:
We literally got Cyberpunk a few years ago! It has amazing features for custom characters and fun armor to mix and match. It also has a choice-based storyline and multiple endings based on the choices you make/categories of your personality you update! What’s also so great about this game is it naturally has great representation. I’ve never seen a game that has NPCs have a set sexual orientation and won’t stray from it: if you are a straight man and hit on the lesbian, she will TELL YOU she’s a lesbian. It’s very interesting and also have trans representation and her personality is not just her being trans. It’s compelling. So, play this game!!!
Another set of great choice games is the Life is Strange series! Although not open world, every choice you make impacts the ending/relationships you have with different characters. There is also GREAT LGBTQ+ rep in every game they produce. The first time I played these games, my brain chemistry changed.
The walking dead series is an AMAZING choice-based series with a lot of representation. Although not open world and depressing(lol), it is a super immersive experience and has your heart rip in half for the characters. In the last game, especially, we see a more immursive and creative fighting techniques that just made you binge the game.
Another great game (that isn’t exactly choice but has an interesting way for you to interact with the world based off the way you want to explore) is Disco Elysium. You get to choose how/why/when/where you interact with the world and people. I have literally never played a game like this and my jaw dropped when I started. I could NOT put it down. The clock ticks throughout the day so you need to be careful about what you do with the amount of time you have. EVERY relationship will unravel another part of the mystery going on throughout the game. And, it’s very intense, fun, and full of philosophical shit that just makes you excited. Plus, you can tell it was made with so much dedication and care.
Fallout 4!!!!! This game is super underrated now a days, but is it worth playing! You can customize your character and choose who you side with/who you kill/who you save/who your friend are/what clothes you wear/what weapons you weld. Like, you cannot ask for more out of this game!! And, the world is HUGE and filled with such intricaticay. I cant rave about this game enough.
Persona 5! This is one of the best games I have ever played in my life! Like Disco Elysium, you only have so much time throughout the day to complete tasks and your relationship with peers/the skills you have are gotten from that time. So, if you choose not to hang out with someone or do homework or whatever, you could not max different parts of your personality/combat techniques. Is game is also in part a choice game, where you get to choose which route you want your narrative to be. Super fun! Also, this game has super fun turn-based combat that just leaves you on your toes! It’s super fun and super immersive and super HARD. It will take you a hundred hours to play.
If you want an immersive open-world:
I already named a few up there, but I haven’t mentioned the Horizon series yet, which is just fantastic. Both games have HUGE open worlds and a great amount of representation that just comes so easy to it and feels so natural. It’s not forced or random or anything: it’s right and natural and not a HUGE deal. It also has very immersive worlds with quite a lot to do. Although Horizon Forbidden West only has about 28 hours of the main story, it took me 80 hours to complete it because that’s just how huge the world was. Plus, the lead character, Aloy, has so much depth and interesting tidbits about her that you KNOW the game was created so much love and care. Also, the face expressions are so real and beautiful, it literally brought tears to my EYES
Red Dead Redemption 2 literally has one of the greatest open-worlds of all time and y’all are gonna play that shitty wizard game 😭?? It’s SO intimate and fun. There are times where you’ll be stopped to do a side mission and, if you die, you can’t go back to do it! I can’t say enough about this game because im sure everyone has heard it already but it’s emotional, FILLED TO THE BRIM with character depth, and super goddamn fun.
We all know about Breath of the Wild, but if you haven’t played that yet and are choosing to play Hogwarts Legacy, what are you doing ??
And just other GREAT games:
All the Batman Arkham Series games are INCREDIBLE. They literally were the stepping stones to other great games and was one of the first to introduce such an interesting half-open world concept. They fighting and stealth is ridiculously fun, and I have replayed these games so many times!
The tomb raider games are FANTASTIC. Filled with puzzles, stealth, and fighting, you cannot milk out more from this game. Plus, you okay as the incredible Lara Croft, who is such an interesting character.
The Last of Us?!? Such great representation! And what great character depth! You can see the love that goes into this game and what it means for the people that create it. Although a linear game, it does not necessarily feel that way because of the amount of exploring you are forced to do. This is one of those rare games where crafting does not feel like a chore, but an immersive and anxious experience. Both games are perfect!!!
If I forgot any, repost and add them because yeah! And, if you’re still not convinced to play something else, you aren’t an ally and stop calling yourself one!
#hogwarts#hogwarts legacy#harry potter#fighting games#indie games#pc games#supermassive games#video games#horizon forbidden west#the last of us#fallout 4#sekiro#eldian ring
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Theon x Sansa - ‘we unraveled a long time ago’ Chapter 2
Sansa knows she can't keep away from Theon's bedchambers for long, but any attempt to voice her feelings may not end the way she wants.
Theon has time to think about his feelings, perhaps realising more than he wants to.
this took me so long to finish and I have no idea why - I'm not sure I even like it but there you go!
heavily focused on Sansa but with a little bit of Theon's feelings.
I think I'll try to write a Theon-centric chapter soon
thanks as ever for reading x
also posted on ao3;
https://archiveofourown.org/works/45844339/chapters/118690183#workskin
It had been a few weeks since their last meeting. Sansa had wanted to visit. She wanted to be by his side, she would have been, every single day. But there was a part of her that knew she couldn’t. Knew that she had to give Theon some space. As Lady of Winterfell, she had many duties that she couldn’t ignore. She couldn’t let down the people of Winterfell or the northerners, not after everything they had done for her. So, Sansa had busied herself with the plans for the future. Winterfell had started to rebuild. Many of the northerners who came to fight had made their way home. Winter had come, it was still cold, people needed to eat, people needed shelter. They looked to Sansa for that. Though tiring and never-ending, Sansa enjoyed it. She enjoyed helping people, knowing that people would come to her. But this didn’t stop her mind wandering. It only wandered to one place, one person. No matter how much she tried to distract herself, it never seemed to work.
Knowing she would have to visit those chambers again, if only to settle those feelings of anxiety, one late afternoon, Sansa once again made her way up to that quiet corridor. Maester Wolkan had kept Sansa informed of Theon’s injuries, of his progress. Sansa didn’t quite understand the length of it all. Only that he was awake, still. He was going to live, still. The injuries around his body had healed, almost, and soon enough the Maester was going to suggest he start or try to walk again. This was positive, Sansa thought. A good thing. But that little voice in the back of her mind, that voice didn’t seem to think so. If Theon was getting better, if he was able to walk and talk and do everything as he once could, that could only mean one thing. He would go home. He would leave. Leave Winterfell, the North and more importantly, leave Sansa. She didn’t want that, she could freely admit that, at least to herself. But it seemed as if she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. He would leave, drift away and there was nothing Sansa could do about it.
Knocking on the wooden door, Sansa waited this time for a response. She received none so opened it slowly. Sansa was met by Theon. He was sitting up in the bed, the bedsheet loosing covering the lower part of his body. He looked almost brighter; Sansa noted. Theon’s tight curls seemed a little ruffled, but cleaner, much cleaner than last time. His shirt was loose, but again, clean. The cuts, the scars, the bruises, they had clearly stopped dripping into the fabric. He was healing. A small smile appeared as he noticed Sansa entering the room, but it disappeared almost immediately, as if he didn’t want her to see. As if he couldn’t smile for too long.
“Am I alright to...” Sansa motioned towards the room, not being sure what she was trying to signal. It was hard to understand what was going through Theon’s mind. He seemed a little distance, but that was understandable. Sansa didn’t pretend to understand Theon completely. But she could see the conflict in his eyes. He had volunteered to protect Bran, and Sansa knew what that meant. Theon believed he wouldn’t make it. He believed he would die in the Godswood. That he should have died. It would have been poetic. But that wasn’t how it was going to be. Sansa was glad of that, of course, she was. But she supposed it would take a little getting used to.
“Of course, you don’t have to ask.” Theon shook his head, as if what Sansa was asking was ridiculous. That gave Sansa some hope. Hope that she wasn’t intruding, that he wanted her there, just as she wanted to be there.
“How are you feeling?” Sansa asked, her voice sounding rather timid. She wasn’t sure why that was, but it was noticeable, she was sure Theon noticed too. Sansa didn’t like feeling the way she was, she didn’t like how she acted when she was in Theon’s company, but she couldn’t help herself. It was as if she was a young girl once again. As if she was in the company of her mother and father, growing up at Winterfell, watching Theon and Robb. But Sansa knew that wasn’t true. She wasn’t there, but here.
Moving himself to sit more forward, Sansa could see Theon’s arms struggling to keep himself upright. “Tired, but better, thank you.” Tired. Theon did look tired, he looked exhausted. Sansa couldn’t imagine. The road to recovery would have many bumps and uphill battles. He was still weak; it wasn’t the weakest Sansa had seen Theon. Those memories had clouded her more recently. The way he would avoid her eye. Bow down to him. The sadness that eclipse him. But that time had gone. Theon was no longer Reek, but Theon. He was whole again. He was here. But he wasn’t Sansa’s, and she wasn’t his. No matter how often she would think of that. But she couldn’t allow herself, she wouldn’t.
“Good. A raven was sent to Yara. I’m not sure when she’ll arrive.”
“If she’ll arrive.” Theon thought out loud, and this saddened Sansa. To think his own sister wouldn’t come to his aid, as he had to hers. But maybe it was different for Theon. He had spent so much time away from his family, away from his sister. Sansa realised they all had, even the Starks. Arya, Bran and Jon. They were the only people left for Sansa, the ones who knew her father, her mother. They remembered the way they would look at each other over dinner. How father would stand above the courtyard, watching his children. They remembered Winterfell as it was. How Maester Luwin would fix them whenever he could. How Septa would berate Arya with her needlework and Sansa with her rudeness. How Ser Rodrik would watch the older boys spar in the courtyard day and night. And Old Nan, they would all tire of her stories about the White Walkers. How ironic. Did Theon share those memories? Those feelings? Maybe not.
“I’m sure she will. I would, if it were Jon or Bran.”
“Arya?” Theon gave Sansa a smile again, but this one felt different. It wasn’t small or quick. It was one that held so much more than Sansa realised. Those memories the two of them of shared of Winterfell, where they had grown up, together, it meant something. No one could really understand, only the Starks. And after…Ramsey… Theon was only one who knew, who understood. They had something shared, something they would share for the rest of their lives. Sansa knew this, she thought about it often. She wondered if Theon did too. She hoped so, she wished. but perhaps not. Theon had suffered something else at the hands at Ramsey. To change yourself completely, become a shell of the person you were, that must do something to you. And that, Sansa could never understand, not truly.
“Even Arya.” Sansa mused, giving Theon a wry smile.
Theon waited before speaking again. He was thinking, deeply. “It’s different. We’re the last two Greyjoys. Us growing up...it wasn’t like here at Winterfell.” Sansa never paid much attention to Theon’s extravagant tales of Pyke and The Iron Islands. She had no real idea what it was like for Theon before he came to Winterfell. She had never met Yara but had heard tales of the Iron Born Queen. It was true it would have been very different to growing up with the Starks. Sansa couldn’t quite imagine how.
“Do you remember much?” Sansa asked, realising this may have been the first time she had even thought about asking Theon about his childhood. The topic of conversation had never been brought up before. It was hard to imagine what it was like in the Iron Islands, what it was like for Theon before he had arrived at Winterfell. Sansa was lucky, in a way. Her time in King’s Landing made her realise just how much. Her childhood was filled with love and laughter, something so many never had. Something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Something she wondered if Theon had.
“I remember everything.”
“I don’t...I mean, before you were here. It was always you and Robb.” Theon and Robb in the courtyard. Theon and Robb in the main hall. Theon and Robb riding. Theon and Robb sparring. Theon and Robb. Always. Until it wasn’t. Until they were both gone.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Theon’s eyes glazed over for a moment, as if he had gotten lost in an old memory. Sansa wondered what memory that was. She wondered how it made him feel. By the look on Theon’s face once he had stopped visiting the past told Sansa everything she needed to know. Those once happy memories, they were still overshadowed by an immense sense and feeling of sadness, of regret, of guilt.
“I think...I think he’d be proud. To know what you did. For Winterfell, for the North, for us.” Sansa had wanted to say for me but stopped herself. She wasn’t going to do herself or Theon any favours by delving deep into those feelings. Those feelings were ones Sansa was still unsure of herself. She wasn’t going to let herself do something stupid, no matter how much she truly wanted to.
“It doesn’t-” Theon shook his head, he started to argue but Sansa wouldn’t let him. She could tell that Theon would never believe it. There was that place in Theon’s heart that would never let go of the guilt. He would hold onto that forever, no matter what Sansa would say. No matter how much Sansa would praise Theon’s actions, would plead with him to accept it, she knew that she could not change his mind. This was not something Sansa wanted to argue over, and with Theon still recovering, she would not put him through that. But that wouldn’t stop Sansa from giving Theon her truth. Maybe he would grow tired of hearing it, but Sansa forgave Theon, for as much as she could. Everything he had done; it was in the past. It was important to look to the future, to build something better. As Lady of Winterfell, that was one of Sansa’s main responsibilities.
“It does, Theon. There’s no point arguing because I’m right.”
“Of course, m’lady.” There it was. The formality once again. Sansa forced herself to smile, though she wasn’t sure it was particularly convincing. She also wasn’t entirely sure why this vexed her so. It was proper for Sansa to be called this; she was the Lady of Winterfell. But with Theon, it felt different, it felt wrong. She didn’t want him to call her this. Call her by her name. Say the word. When her name did escape Theon’s lips, when he spoke it so softly, Sansa did everything in her power to not brush profusely in front of him. But this was not happening. There was some distance in his words and Sansa didn’t like it. She wished she had the courage to speak up, voice how she was feeling, but she did not think she could handle to aftermath. The embarrassment, awkwardness, humiliation. No, she would not allow that. Instead, she would just wait, in secret, for Theon to say her name once again.
“He would have been angry at first, hurt. But...a lot of a time has passed.” That it had.
Theon needed to hear this; Sansa wanted it to be her who told him. She wasn’t sure whether her words would have any weight, whether he would listen and accept. But it was important for her and for Theon. It was important that she had tried to bring Theon back when he was so lost. It was important that she promised to tell Jon the truth about what he had done. It was important for Sansa that Theon had come with her to the Wall. But that hadn’t happened. There was so much Sansa hadn’t had control over. But that was going to change. Sansa was sure of that.
“Yes.” Theon nodded, not in agreement exactly, Sansa was sure he would never quite agree with what Sansa had said. He would always feel that guilt, feel that remorse, that regret. But he had to let go eventually, had to move on. He couldn’t repent forever. Sansa wouldn’t let him.
Realising she needed to move the conversation along, Sansa took a deep breath and turned to look out of the window. The snow had stopped falling from early that morning, but she could still feel the cold winter breeze. She couldn’t let her feelings take control, not now. She couldn’t falter, no matter how much she wanted to. No matter how much she wanted to let them take over, those feelings wouldn’t. To let Theon see them. She forced a quick smile, moving slightly closer to him. “Do you need anything?” Her voice cracked, but she made sure to recover. One of many things she had learned during her time in the capital.
Surprised by the suggestion, Theon started to speak but couldn’t manage to finish the sentence. “Uh, I’m not-” What did he need exactly? Theon was not so sure. He had barely been awake the past few weeks, he had not left the chambers, he had only seen Sansa and the Maester. But Theon was not complaining. The thought of any luxury had not crossed his mind and he didn’t believe he could conjure up any request. What would he ask for? In truth, Theon had everything he needed. He only had the clothes on his back, and that was enough for him. But Sansa clearly wanted to help, wanted to do something useful. Her visits enough were reason for Theon to look forward to the day, a feeling he had not truly felt in a long time. Theon was unsure if it was eagerness he felt before Sansa’s visits, especially as there didn’t seem to be a set routine. Today’s visit for example, was not what Theon had expected. Theon understood how important Sansa was, though the past few weeks were a little trickier without seeing her warm smile.
Not that Theon needed that or even wanted it. But Theon had thought about Sansa’s smile more often since waking up. Her trembling lip, tired, sad eyes, sniffles that escape from her nose – those were the things Theon would remember, those were the things that would plague his thoughts and meet him in his nightmares. But her smile, it was so much brighter than Theon could imagine. Theon doubted she reserved it only for him, but it was good to see, nonetheless. It was good to have company, good to feel something once again. Though dubious, Theon wondered how long that would last.
“Books? Or something to eat? Or...” Sansa was frantically trying to think what else Theon may need. Need, not want. Only the gods truly knew what Theon wanted, and though deep into Sansa’s most private thoughts did she urge from him to share her wants, Sansa would not make these known and she certainly wouldn’t ask Theon. All she could truly do was to make him as comfortable as possible, for the time being at least. Winterfell was his home. It had always been his home, even if Theon hadn’t looked at it in that way.
This was important to Sansa; Theon could sense that. But no matter how vigorously he searched his mind for something to please Sansa, he could think of nothing. His mind seemed blank. “I’m fine, but thank you, Sansa.”
Sansa nodded, embarrassed at how forceful she seemed and gave Theon a small smile. She turned her head for a moment, her eyes finding the window. once again. An easy excuse to look away from Theon, to regain her thoughts. It was snowing once again, not too hard today, however, it was much slower and softer. Sansa made a mental note to visit the Godswood before supper, wanting to take advantage of the seemingly good weather. But even the thoughts of the Godswood couldn’t completely distract Sansa. “I’m not sure...what you want to do.” Sansa didn’t turn when she spoke, she couldn’t bring herself to look at Theon. This was something she had pondered over whenever she had a spare moment. Theon was injured, but he was healing. Maester Wolkan suggested at a good rate. Eventually, the healing would stop, and Theon would be fully healed, or as much as he could be. The Maester had tried to explain to Sansa that there may be a possibility that some things may never heal, though Sansa still struggled to completely understand. Theon healing would mean only one thing, his sister would come back for him.
Yara Greyjoy would take Theon away from Sansa, take him away from Winterfell, from the place he spent so many years, from his home. Logically, Sansa knew Theon’s sister had every right to. They were brother and sister. They were the last Greyjoys. She was Queen of the Iron Islands, and Theon had sworn allegiance to her. But Theon had sworn to fight for Winterfell. He had come back, back to Sansa. He had intended on sacrificing himself. He had born so much, so many scars. Sansa didn’t want to let him go. But as Lady of Winterfell, she had many responsibilities and was required to make many decisions and even sacrifices. She just didn’t believe Theon would be one of them.
“About?”
Sansa sighed, not wanting to convey her irritation at what she was about to say. She wasn’t angry or annoyed at Theon, but at herself. She was angry that she could even allow herself to speak those words, allow it to happen. But she was powerless, she could think of no other alternative. Winterfell was Theon’s home, or at least that was how Sansa saw it. But she couldn’t keep him forever.
“Well, you’re welcome to stay here, at Winterfell, for as long as you need, as long as you’d like. Healing takes time, but...”
“But?”
“The war is over, there’s peace again. Your sister has the Iron Islands...”
“She’ll want me by her side.” There. The realisation had hit. Sansa couldn’t bring herself to say it and thanked the gods Theon managed to work it out himself.
“Yes.” Nodding to herself, Sansa’s eyes glossed over Theon. His figure was sat upright, but any emotion he may have had previously was now drained. “You don’t have to decide now, but...”
“Eventually.” Theon sighed, moving his bedclothes further away from him. Clearly, Theon was not best pleased about this decision either. It seemed that even after everything, Theon was still not in control. Decisions were being made for him. His life was not his own, and perhaps it never would be. The thought of what would happen after hadn’t crossed Theon’s mind. Theon had never expected his life to end up in this way, to be sitting in front of Sansa in this moment. Theon had accepted his fate and hoped for it. But that was not to be. Knowing that Theon had a life to live, had been given that second chance, it had changed something in him. The regret, the guilt, the sadness he had felt for so long was still there, it would always be there. But there were other feelings too, which occupied that once sombre space. Hope.
But that was being taken away. The hope that Theon could lead his own life, making his own choices, the right choices, that was slowly slipping away from him. Theon would go back to Pyke, the place he thought he would never see again. He would leave Winterfell, the place he thought he would never leave. But Winterfell wasn’t all he would leave behind. There was something else, someone.
No.
“Yes, eventually.” Sansa spoke this almost silently, as if she didn’t want to admit it out loud for the gods to hear. She could admit she did not want Theon to leave. Not so soon after everything. It had been so little time since the Long Night. The war was over, as she had said, there was no need to rush, or to curse time. But she seemed to be doing exactly that. It wouldn’t be long before Theon would be gone, the very room Sansa sat in would be empty, and so would she.
Theon did not look at Sansa for a while, but Sansa kept her eyes on him for as long as she could bare. He didn’t look angry, but Sansa could feel something there. Something strong. Something present. The Theon Sansa had been faced with upon her arrival at Winterfell was not the one who sat in front of her. That Theon was weak, was scared, was little. That Theon was Reek. Reek never seemed to feel anything. His master would not let it. Ramsey would not let it. He had complete control over him, like a little puppet. He was his puppet, his dog, his toy, his thing. He didn’t feel anything for himself. For Ramsey. Or for Sansa. He was empty, completely. Even after, when the two escaped, when Sansa and Theon reunited and for a split moment Sansa felt complete happiness, there was still something missing. Theon was not whole. Perhaps he would never truly be whole, never truly be himself, not in the way he once was. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change, become something else entirely. Sansa wished and urged for Theon to feel something stronger, stronger than he had ever before. It didn’t need to be for Sansa, she could be entirely irrelevant. This meant something.
It meant something that the thought of leaving Winterfell conjured up something in Theon. Was it anger? Annoyance? Sadness? Sansa could not be so sure, but it was something. It certainly was not happiness or joy. Theon did not feel that knowing he would soon leave Winterfell and journey home to Pyke. And why was that? Why did Theon feel that emptiness at the prospect of going home? After realising the truth about the Lannisters and Kings Landing, all Sansa wanted was to go home. All she wanted was to be with her family again. She dreamt of it almost every night. But that dream soon became a nightmare. But for Theon, things were different. He had been home since leaving all those years again, he had seen the one place he was supposed to belong to. So, why? Sansa tried to not hope, she tried not to imagine why Theon would want to stay in Winterfell. She knew if she did, she would only be disappointed. And she didn’t want to feel that way about Theon. Not ever.
Theon was unsure as how he supposed to feel about this sudden decision. He was angry, yes, that he still was unable to decide for himself. But there was a sense of feeling hurt too, and Theon couldn’t pinpoint as to why that was. Or perhaps he could, truly he knew why, but did not want to admit that. He couldn’t, not now. After everything, he couldn’t let himself. He didn’t deserve to. But those feelings, they were all consuming.
These feelings were not new ones. These feelings were ones that Theon had felt for a long time, ones that had been buried for such a long time. Theon spent all day, every day in his bedchambers, waiting. This, in turn, allowed himself to think, to ponder, to realise. Feelings he had not given a second thought of for so long. But now, Theon had time, too much time. His mind would often find its way back to old memories, ones that before he would be too scared to visit. Those memories would be filled with Robb, those memories would be filled with Winterfell, his sister, Ramsey and her. They would always end with her.
Reek didn’t have these feelings, Reek couldn’t. His master wouldn’t let him, he would punish him for thinking of anything else but his master. But Reek did not exist anymore, which was something, particularly late at night when Theon was alone, Theon needed to remind himself. He was not Reek, he would never be Reek again. He was only Theon. And that was enough. Surely, it was enough? To have those feelings, to keep them close to his heart, to ponder over them – it was enough to do that alone. Theon could not let them escape, he just couldn’t. He was not Reek, but Theon wasn’t sure he was worthy of them. Not yet.
“Can I ask you a question?” Theon finally spoke, which made Sansa jump a little. He was looking directly at Sansa, his eyes piercing and ready. Only now did Sansa realise a shift in the way he was looking at her. There was a softness there, it was present, it was forward, more than it had been before. But there was a sense of determination too. It was Theon looking at Sansa, not Reek, not her father’s ward, not Yara Greyjoy’s brother, but Theon. Sansa wished he would never look away, that he would keep his eyes only for her. But this was just a fantasy, a silly, childish one, at that. A fantasy that would never become her reality, Sansa realised that now. Theon was slipping away, away from Sansa and there was nothing she could do to catch him.
“Yes.” Sansa whispered, as if she was scared about what he would ask. Surely not what Sansa had been avoiding the past few weeks? Surely not what Sansa truly felt about Theon? What Theon felt about Sansa?
“Did he suffer?” He. Sansa didn’t need any explanation; she knew exactly who Theon was referring to. This conversation was bound to arise. They hadn’t spoken of Ramsey, not how he had met his end. Sansa wondered how Theon had found out. Who had told him? What did he think? Feel? Relief, Sansa assumed. Just as she had. Happiness…not quite. It hard to surmise how Sansa had felt in that moment. After everything Ramsey had done, not just to Sansa, not just to Theon, but so many. The suffering would end. Her suffering would end. At least Sansa had thought. Ramsey’s death…that wouldn’t change what had happened. Those moments, the ones that visited Sansa almost every night, they would never leave her.
“He did. I watched him suffer. I watched him until he drew his last breath.” Sansa said nonchalantly, as if she was listing off her duties for the day. She didn’t like the way her voice sounded, cold, almost distant. But there was no difference to how Sansa felt in that moment, when she watched Ramsey, heard his screams, and knew it would all end eventually. There was no point pretending, not to Theon. Sansa imagined Theon would see right through it all, he would see Sansa.
Theon watched Sansa for a moment before commenting. She could tell he was trying to gauge how to respond. How would anyone respond to that? “I’m not sure if that makes me feel any better.” To know Ramsey suffered, to know after everything he did to so many, his last moments were filled with pain and misery, Theon thought he should have been contented with that. But he wasn’t. To know Sansa was there, that Sansa inflicted that pain upon him, that did not make matters any better. It was an odd feeling, really. Was there a particular way Theon should have felt? Empty, hollow, dark. That was how Theon felt. Nothing would ever change what Ramsey did to him. Nothing would ever take away the torture Theon experienced at the hands of Ramsey. Not even knowing how he met his own gruesome end.
“It made me feel better.” Sansa answered, rather defensively. Sansa hadn’t meant for it to come out of that way, but she felt as if she was being transported back to that moment. Sansa hated to admit that she had not thought of Theon’s suffering as much as her own. Selfishly, what Ramsey had done to her was at the forefront of her mind when she released the hounds. Theon was an afterthought. She hated that, just hated it. But she couldn’t lie, it did make her feel better. A sense of relief, to know that Ramsey could hurt no more, the suffering would end. To know she was the one who ended it, closed the door, buried it all. Of course, it was going to make Sansa feel better. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t understand Theon’s thinking. The act didn’t bring Sansa joy, it didn’t bring her happiness, or any positive feeling. All she knew is that he had to die. And she was glad it was her.
“That’s something.” Theon was now avoiding Sansa’s eye, though it didn’t seem intentional. Sansa imagined he had become lost in something else. Perhaps the moment he found out himself what had happened to Ramsey. Sansa felt a twinge of guilt. For her thoughts ignoring Theon’s suffering both before and after the fact. She wondered how he had responded to the news, what he thought, did he cry out? Was there a sense of relief? Reprieve? Sansa wished he would tell her, be more open. They had something shared, the two of them. Maybe at times Sansa wished they didn’t sometimes, wished they were connected by something else, something less traumatic. But that wasn’t the way it was. And there was nothing to change that.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t send word, but I had no way-”
“No, don’t apologise to me.”
“It had to be done, Theon. He couldn’t go on hurting anyone else.”
“I know. I’m glad it was. I didn’t mean...”
“Of course, not.” Sansa moved her hand and rested it upon the bedclothes, only inches away from Theon’s hand. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t directly touched his, perhaps it just didn’t feel quite right. Sansa didn’t want to push the boundaries of what she could and couldn’t do with Theon. Sansa wanted him to feel comfortable, at ease, but everything she seemed to do just escalated everything. It wasn’t what Sansa had wanted. Not one bit. Not at all.
Sansa was unsure why Theon had decided to speak of Ramsey. She imagined that he plagued Theon’s thoughts as much as he did hers. Perhaps even more so. It was inevitable that the two would speak of him, would speak of his end. They couldn’t avoid it forever. That unspoken connection between the two was something both felt, so strongly. Sansa could sense that. But what had made Theon conjure up the courage to ask? Perhaps it was that he too realised the two of them had a limited amount of time left with one another. Anything they wanted to ask or say, they would have to speak sooner rather than later. Sansa hoped that, anyway.
Leaving Theon soon after that, Sansa realised any conversation that included Ramsey was doomed to fail. She promised they would speak more about his sister, but Sansa doubted that brought Theon any reassurance. Sansa herself didn’t feel too confident about it either. The look on Theon’s face, the realisation that he would soon be leaving Winterfell, that told Sansa everything she needed to know. She knew she should have been sorrowful; she knew she shouldn’t have filled with glee upon realising how little Theon wanted that. But she couldn’t help herself, it brought her some comfort to know Theon didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to leave Winterfell, to leave the North, to leave her.
*
Theon did not see Sansa for a long while after their previous meeting. He felt he must have said something to upset her. Her visits were not very regular, but Theon knew eventually she would always come, he would just have to wait. But time was passing, and Theon was healing. He felt much better than he had in months, and yet there was still no sign of her. Maester Wolkan was Theon’s only visitor. His visits were regular, though this didn’t make them any more enjoyable. They were short, usually to check on his injuries. The two didn’t take part in much conversation, only passing comments about Theon’s recovery or the weather. That was perfectly fine with Theon, he didn’t have much to say to the man. And doubted the Maester would find anything Theon had to say particularly interesting. It was odd, still, even now, after everything, to see Maester Wolkan standing above him. The Maester’s robes were dark, dull, far darker and far duller than his predecessor. Theon’s mind couldn’t help but wander towards thinking of Maester Luwin.
Theon didn’t like to categorise the things he had done, particularly to the Starks. But one thing he felt the most remorse for was Maester Luwin’s fate. A good man, a decent, kind man. Well, maybe not always kind, not to Theon. He didn’t always deserve that kindness, Theon realised that now. He realised that the person he was didn’t deserve so many things. If Theon could go back, there was so much he would change. But deep down, far from the surface, Theon knew that would mean his story would have ended long ago. He would not be sat in his bedchambers at Winterfell. He would not have been afforded the luxury of surviving. Things would be different, and maybe that would have been better. But that wasn’t the way, it wasn’t how Theon’s life had unraveled and Theon knew eventually he would have to accept that. That didn’t stop those feelings about the previous Maester surrounding Theon. Theon knew he killed Maester Luwin. He could have saved him, but he hadn’t. The Maester had known the Starks all their lives, he had seen Theon grow into the young, selfish, arrogant man he was when he took Winterfell. He had lived and died in the Starks home. And Theon didn’t do anything to stop that.
It was a late afternoon, when Theon received a visit. He hadn’t seen another person for some time, or at least it seemed that way. Though his injuries were slowly disappearing, Theon found himself finding solace in his sleep. He believed he was sleeping more often than not. Perhaps it was the absence of a certain lady, or perhaps everything that had happened was finally catching up to him. As they always seemed to do.
It was the Maester who greeted Theon at the door, not the Lady of Winterfell. Of course, it wasn’t going to be her. It was silly of Theon to even expect that. It wasn’t that he needed to see her, or even wished to, not particularly. But he had grown fond of her visits, of her company and imagined she felt the same. Or he liked to think she felt the same. There was no real way of knowing how Sansa felt. She was the Lady of Winterfell now; things had changed since they were both at their childhood home. It was strange, some visits Sansa exude warmth and kindness, others she felt distant and maybe even cold. Theon doubted it was intentionally, and perhaps was just from his own imagination. But things felt odd between the two. Perhaps it was the unfamiliarity. The two of them had never been in their current position before. Throughout their childhood, Sansa and Theon hadn’t spent too much time together, but they had always been there, lurking. During the wrath of Ramsey, Theon had concerned himself with Sansa’s safety more than anything else. And now…they had time, there was no threat, nothing to hold them back. And yet…nothing.
“I’m not who you were expecting.” The Maester spoke without even looking in Theon’s direction, closing the door behind him. Yes, this was true, Maester Wolkan was not who Theon was expecting. Not that he was expecting anyone in particular. Of course, not. Theon wasn’t going to admit that. But Theon didn’t think he was being particularly obvious, or at least he was trying not to. And why would the Maester pay any attention to that? Surely, he had more important matters to concern himself with, or at least Theon hoped. He hoped he was able to hide how he was feeling just that little bit longer, hold onto that hope.
Knowing there was no point denying what was clearly painfully obvious, Theon spoke, still watching the Maester gathering himself to check on Theon’s injuries. “No, you’re not. Is she here?” She. Good gods, Theon couldn’t even muster to speak her name. How pathetic. But the Maester knew exactly who Theon meant. He knew how often the Lady of Winterfell would visit Theon’s bedchambers. How often Sansa would ask after Theon, concern herself with his progress. Theon did not know this, however, not truly. He had some idea of what the Maester knew, what he saw, but did not know the whole story. And Theon felt he never truly would.
“Lady Stark is in King’s Landing, along with the rest of the family.” The Maester looked up at Theon as he spoke, as if he was trying to gauge his reaction.
“Why?”
“They’re making history. All the rulers are. Deciding the realm’s fate.” Oh, of course. How could Theon be so ignorant? While he was spending his days watching the snow fall from the window, counting down the minutes until he was visited by a certain red-haired Stark and feeling sorry for himself, everyone else was moving on. This was something Theon could only dream of doing, he wasn’t sure he could ever bring himself to do that completely.
“My sister?”
“I believe so. It’s likely she’ll make her way here with the family afterwards.”
“I see, thank you.” Theon tried to imagine Yara travelling with the Starks, but nothing came to mind. It would be an odd sight indeed. Theon couldn’t believe Yara would be too happy having a travel companion in Jon, after everything.
The two men didn’t speak as the Maester checked Theon’s injuries. He bandaged up his arm once more, but the rest of his body didn’t need any adjusting. Theon knew this could only mean one thing; he would be going home soon. Back to the Iron Islands, back to Pyke, to the Ironborn, to his sister. He should have felt happy at that notion, maybe not excited exactly, but hopeful. Theon did not feel any of those ways, he couldn’t even force it. He just felt an immense feeling of dread. Theon knew he should not be feeling that way, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to leave; he would admit that. Though why he felt that way, Theon could not bring himself to think of that, let alone speak it.
“Your injuries have seemed to heal up nicely. It shouldn’t be too long before you can try to walk again.”
“My legs, they weren’t…”
“No, but certain injuries can have odd effects on the body.”
“Yes, I suppose they can.” Theon frowned; he could feel his face tensing up. Unsure as to why he was becoming frustrated, Theon watched the Maester gather the supplies he had brought to his bedchambers. There was a part of Theon, a part he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t admit to anyone else, that almost hoped he would never heal. Hoped he would never be as he was. Theon believed that partly to be true. It was unlikely that Theon would be who he was, physically and mentally. Things had changed, as he had. But Theon didn’t believe he deserved to heal, deserved to be as he was. He had caused too much pain, too much damage. “How long?”
“Well, if you keep the healing up at this rate, it should only be a few weeks or so.”
“And then?”
“Well, I don’t believe it’s my place to say, m’lord.”
“I don’t belong in the North.”
“Maybe not.” The Maester spoke those words and nodded, indicating he would leave Theon to his memories. Maester Wolkan was there during Ramsey’s reign of terror. He was there that night in the Godswood, when Theon walked Sansa to Ramsey. When Theon was powerless, knowing only so well what would happen to Sansa. The Maester was there through all of it. Powerless, just as Theon was, to stop any of it. He knew the ins and outs. Knew their secrets. Saw their scars. And Theon had so many of those. His body, his mind, his everything, was filled with them. Filled to the brim. Filled so much, soon it may overflow, it could explode. But it hadn’t. Theon hadn’t. He was whole, he was alive, he was living. Even if he didn’t belong at Winterfell, no matter how much he wanted to.
#game of thrones#got#theonsa#theon x sansa#theon greyjoy#sansa stark#got fic#theonsa fic#sansa x theon#game of thrones fic#theonsa fanfic#got fanfic#game of thrones fanfic#theonsa fanfiction#got fanfiction#game of thrones fanfiction#my writing#mine#we unraveled a long time ago
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𝐑𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
pixie says: i got him i got hydro daddy so here’s some celebration fluff ft my babies the Melusine’s.
Imagine Neuvillette coming to you, a small box in his hands and a Melusine skipping alongside.
You had been close to the Iudex for a very long time, two of the eldest beings in Fontaine. The Hydro Dragon and the leader of the remaining Naiads were bound together by fate - spirits and embodiments of the nation’s elements. Although he posed now as the Chief Justice, as you as a florist - you maintained that friendship from all that time ago.
However, his arrival at the beach you would always sit on after work with his small companion, Liath - you recognised - was unexpected. The fact he knew where to find you was enough to set your heart alight.
“Madame Y/N, please do excuse our interruption - I hope we are not intruding?” Neuvilette asks, poised as ever.
“Nonsense, Neuvilette. Come, sit. Hello Liath, how has your day been?” You say, patting the space your large cloak has been spread out on the sand.
Liath immediately pulls Neuvillette by the hand and they sit down beside you, the Melusine immediately climbing to sit on the man’s lap and the soft smile on his face makes your stomach feel warm and fluttery.
“I’m afraid I must ask for your assistance, it appears a skill of yours has eluded my talents. A skill in which Liath is currently searching for.” He says.
“Oh? How can I help?” You smile, turning to sit facing them.
“Liath came to me today, mentioning how much she admired the style you wore your hair in several days ago - however, I am not well versed in the art of braiding.” He says, face extraordinarily serious for a man asking for braiding advice.
“Oh well that is something I can help with! You want your hair to be like mine, Liath?” You ask, patting her small hand.
She nods and turns to Neuvillette who passes her the box on his right. Her small hands present the blue box tied with a blue ribbon to you and you unravel the bow to find a ridiculously excessive amount of hair clips, bows, ribbons and bands laying underneath a silver soft bristled hair brush.
“I was not entirely sure of what accoutrements you would need for this endeavour, Madame, so I collected everything I could think of. I do hope the brush will suffice, it is my own.” The man says, resting his cane against his leg as Liath crawls from his lap into yours.
“This is more than enough, I could braid the hair of every Melusine in Fontaine with all of this!” You smile.
“Can you do my hair like yours, please? The one long plait with a big ribbon at the end?” The darling on your lap asks.
“Of course, sweetling. Monsieur, sit closer - I will teach you how to do this in the event I’m ever occupied.” You say, patting the space beside you, to which obliges and shifts to sit at your side.
You pointedly ignore the hammering in your chest when the breeze wafts his scent toward you: sea salt, fresh air and something cool and calming.
You begin to brush the Melusine’s hair, soft gentle strokes removing any tangles and easing a path for the style.
“So you just gather hair as you go along, make sure you have three strands - and you overlap them like so, see? If it’s tighter, it will last longer - however I find if they’re too tight it tends to give me quite the headache so I’ll do it nice and loose for this little angel.”
Neuvillette watches your fingers weave through the silky strands and deftly manoeuvre it to your will - or rather - Liath’s will.
“And ta-da!” You say, securing the soft pink ribbon at the end.
Liath reaches up and feels her hair, before looking at the small compact mirror you produce from your bag and smiling.
“Oh thank you so much! I look almost as beautiful as you now! Papa - doesn’t it look pretty!” She spins toward the man beside you.
“Beautiful as a pluie lotus, dearest.” He responds.
“I’m going to show Sedene!” She scampers off toward the Palais, leaving you with the Iudex.
Somehow - this became routine. Every day, Neuvillette and Liath would show up to your spot on the beach, or your florist as it rains - and you would fix the hair of the Melusine. However, the second day - Sedene joined too. Then Aeife, then Elphane, then Blathine and soon you had a gaggle of giggling Melusines decorating each others hair in a chain of styling.
“Madame Y/N?” Liath asks about a month into this newfound tradition.
“Yes, sweetling?” You say, finishing up her hair as she turns to curl into you.
“Are you our mama?” She asks, yawning and nuzzling into you.
At this, the Iudex snaps his head from the newspaper he was reading across from you.
“Would you like me to be?” You ask the cuddled up bundle.
“Very much so. You do our hair, and take care of us if we’re not well and give us kisses. And since Monsieur Neuvillette is like our papa - and he thinks you’re beautiful and he feels a lot of love when he looks at you then that would make you our Mama!”
The Melusine has no idea what she’s said.
You snap your head to look at the hydro dragon.
His eyes are wide, newspaper held tighter in his grip as he looks between you and the little gossip.
“Does he now? Well, then - I suppose I am your mama, if you would allow me the pleasure.” You smile, settling a blanket on the sleepy child.
As she drifts off to a well deserved nap - the man turns to you.
“I do apologise, Madame. Liath - I did not expect her to be so free with her words. If my presence makes you uncomfortable I shall take my leave immediately.” His horns seem to droop slightly, and the sky turns a little bit greyer.
“Well - someone had to make a move. After all, I have been waiting for 700 years.” You smirk, shifting to stand and lay Liath on the armchair of your apartment above your shop.
Neuvillette snaps his head to you.
“I - 700 years? That was when -” The man stands up and walks toward you.
“When we met, yes.” You take his hand and pull him to your kitchen - where you can speak without volume concerns.
He looks at you as if you’ve grown another head.
“I have been in love with you since the moment I stormed into your old home with intention of befriending the mighty Sovereign of Hydro.” You laugh, taking your hand and placing it on his cheek to which he subconsciously leans in to - every touch starved ounce of his body singing in delight.
“A Melusine revealing my love for you wasn’t quite my intention, yet I fear my lack of romanticism would have impeded any attempts made by myself.” He says, and you huff a small laugh at him - never giving himself enough credit.
“Yet, as we are here now - I’ll do my utmost. You have enchanted me, body and soul, from the day a young Naiad flung open my doors. I’m sure you’re reasoning for keeping these feelings to yourself are similar to mine - you were far too precious and integral to my life to allow myself the risk of you no longer being a part of it.” He says, stroking a long finger across the rise of your cheek. You agree with him, voicing the same opinion that he was far too meaningful to you to potentially lose, yet you figured he felt for you about 50 years ago - but thought it best for him to figure it all out by himself rather than moulding things for him - given his nature and responsibilities. You can see a trail of shimmer on his lower lashes, this sweet, oh-so sensitive man. You wipe the beginnings of tears from his eyes.
“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don’t cry.” You smile, seeing him grin down at you and the mirth in his eyes lights your heart.
You tilt your head up to him and he cups your face with his large hands.
“May I kiss you, my darling girl?” He asks in the gentlest voice imaginable.
“Please.”
His soft lips press to yours and you feel as if you’re floating in the purest, warmest most divine pool of water as the clarity of kissing your love sets in. The kiss is gentle, romantic and full of pent up longing - the soft swipe of your tongue across his lower lip makes his hand grip tighter on your waist as you wind your hand into the silky white hair cascading down his back.
He pulls away, both needing a reality check - he looks at you as if to ensure you’re real and you smile at him, pecking his lips once more.
“I love you, Neuvillette.”
“I love you, dearest Mate of the Hydro Dragon”
“And we love you both too!”
The cheerful, loud voices of 3 melusine’s make you both jump as they appear at your door - boxes of cakes and sweets in their arms.
“Liath! Wake up! Papa finally kissed Mama!”
#neuvillette#neuvilette x reader#neuvilette x you#neuvilette genshin#genshin fanfic#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin fluff#fontaine#hydro dragon hydro dragon please don’t cry
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♫"We unraveled a long time ago, We lost and we couldn't let it go, I wish it was easy but it isn't so, So baby, We could make a good thing bad."♫
Daisy Jones & The Six → Track 10 - Rock 'n' Roll Suicide
#djatsedit#djatsblr#daisyjonesedit#daisy jones and the six#tvarchive#tvedit#adaptationsdaily#daisy jones#billy dunne#billy x daisy#camila dunne#warren rojas#karen sirko#graham dunne#eddie roundtree#*#this episode is just so sad
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Obsessed w dad!az 🤩 we need a little angst to fluff 🫣 what if something were to happen to the kids like a kidnapping or something 😭😭😭
OUGH your mind too 😩
|| warnings: little touch of angst, reader kind of going catatonic/mention of reader's power/touch of horror with that, mention of blood
It feels like you've been gutted. Scooped out, hollowed ㅡ emptied for the cold slither of the thing that's inhabited your body since you came out of the Cauldron. You don't know what it is, not really ㅡ only that you've worked hard to keep it reined in, docile and dormant.
It simmers under your skin now, howling a demand for an outlet, screaming so loud you can't think past anything but wanting to absolutely rip apart whatever or whoever has had the audacity to touch your children, let alone take them from you.
"You're bleeding."
Concern doesn't begin to cover how Azriel feels, watching you stare blankly at the baby blanket draped over your legs. Just hours ago, the twins had been sleeping soundly underneath it. Just hours ago, Aria, Ivy and River had been safe and sound. Your hands are curled tight, crimson oozing beneath your fingertips ㅡ your nails have dug so hard they've broken skin.
Azriel reaches for you, tries not to think about the fact he can't feel anything from your end of the bond, cold snap of a shield so fierce that even Rhysand couldn't get you to lower it, that your skin burns under his touch.
Your fingers uncurl like a spring-loaded trap, bloodied at the tips with no source for it as your skin knits together, sealing the little crescents your nails had dug. Your gaze shifts over to him, painfully slow. What stares out at him from behind your eyes isn't you, and isn't fae.
Azriel swallows. And not for the first time, he wonders what else came out of the Cauldron with you. You blink once, twice ㅡ and that power dims, a shadow tucked back to the deep. Your shoulders tremble and then you're in his arms, muffling a choked cry as the dam breaks.
"They're out there," you sob, "Aria and Ivy and River ㅡ they're out there, Azriel."
His chest aches. "I know."
Azriel wonders how he can hold you tight enough to keep you from falling apart when he's unraveling with you, thoughts jumping from one scenario to another, each one worse than the last. He wants to be out there looking for them, hunting down whoever took them ㅡ but Rhysand had taken one look at you and told him you needed him more.
Time feels like syrup. Thick, sticky, and agonizing for how slow it slips past ㅡ Azriel doesn't know how long you cry for, only that his heart feels like it's been cleaved in two when you finally still. He knows you're not asleep, can feel the wet sweep of your lashes on his skin with each slow blink.
He doesn't know how to comfort you. As much as he wants to, he knows that there isn't anything he can say that will close that chasm of fear for either of you until your children are back.
Azriel tenses as his shadows alert him Cassian and Rhys' return ㅡ and he waits, ignoring your questioning look as he asks the tentative question, fearing the answer. Are theyㅡ
They're here. And they're okay, Rhys tells him, sounding exhausted but relieved. Not a scratch on them.
He knows you've heard Rhys too by the way you're pulling away from him and getting to your feet, bolting at the sound of Ivy's wailing ㅡ and he isn't far behind you.
Red-cheeked, your younger daughter is near screaming in Cassian's arms, teary-eyed River in Rhys' with Aria clinging to his leg. Azriel takes River from the High Lord, shadows wreathing around Aria to guide her to him as well, and Ivy quiets as she's cradled into your arms.
You're crying again. Quietly, tears dampening Ivy's hair as you kiss her head, her cheeks, her nose ㅡ and they continue to spill until you've done the same with Aria and River, reassuring yourself that your children are indeed unharmed.
Once you and your children are far enough away, Azriel turns towards Cassian and Rhys. "What about who took them?"
Cassian looks away, but the gleam to his eyes and the spatter of blood he's missed cleaning off his face says enough, and dark satisfaction thrums in Azriel's veins.
The tension doesn't ease completely until the three of them are asleep between the two of you, cradled protectively with you on one side, Azriel on the other. Only then does Azriel allow himself to relax, knowing that they're safe and sound.
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AQUAMARINE: EPILOGUE
April Showers (M)
Dedication: For my girls, who like like their men secure and obsessed.
JEON WONWOO X READER
WORDS: 14k+
SERIES MASTERLIST
GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!
FLUFF!FLUFF!AND SMUT (I THINK WE HAD ENOUGH ANGST FOR 8 CHAPTERS)
A/N: So, I guess this is it huh? well Happy Reading!!
4 years ago
Zurich, Switzerland
KIU
Noella entered the lecture room, a spacious gallery-style classroom with long wooden benches and rows of paintings adorning the walls. The large windows bathed the room in natural light, and it felt more like an art gallery than a typical lecture hall. She quietly pushed the door open and entered, the soft creak of the hinges barely audible over the lecturer's voice.
The professor at the front of the room, Jeonghan, continued with his lecture on the definition of meaning during the Enlightenment era. He stood confidently in front of the class, with a relaxed yet engaging demeanour. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, giving him an air of intelligence.
As Noella found a seat at the back of the room and settled in, her eyes met Jeonghan's for a brief moment. There was a flash of recognition, but he didn't let it disrupt the flow of his lecture. With a warm smile and a nod, he acknowledged her presence before returning to his discourse.
"During the Enlightenment," he began, his voice both soothing and authoritative, "philosophers like Voltaire and Rousseau grappled with the concept of meaning. What does it mean to lead a meaningful life? Is it found in the pursuit of knowledge, happiness, or something more profound?"
The students listened intently as Jeonghan paced gracefully across the front of the room. His words were thought-provoking, encouraging his students to consider the philosophical inquiries of the past and apply them to their own lives.
She couldn't help but be captivated by his lecture, not only because of the subject matter but also because of the way he presented it. She had known Jeonghan for years, and seeing him in his element was both familiar and awe-inspiring.
He continued, "Voltaire famously stated, 'Judge a man by his questions rather than his answers.' This is a profound notion because it encourages us to continuously seek understanding. In an era marked by intellectual growth, philosophers challenged the status quo and sought to unravel the mysteries of existence."
The students absorbed the wisdom he shared, their eyes reflecting the curiosity sparked by his teaching.
Jeonghan, with his usual eloquence, continued his lecture, delving into the void that exists within humanity, a craving for meaning that often goes unnoticed. He cited Nietzsche's concept of this void, the insatiable longing for purpose that some fill immediately with their surroundings and become fervent devotees of a cause, never realizing the hollowness they've concealed. "The process of discovering that void for the first time," he explained, "is a pivotal moment in our lives. It's when we come to the stark realization that something is lacking in that department."
As he spoke, Jeonghan gestured passionately, his words resonating with the students. "Albert Camus presents us with an ultimate example of struggle and suffering, only to have our efforts amount to nothing. This is a metaphor for life, for Camus. We exist in a vast, inconceivably large, and complex universe, and with every step we take, we're battling against a tidal wave of forces that could end our existence at any moment."
He paced back and forth at the front of the class, emphasizing the challenges of human existence. "We live through good times and endure bad ones, all while accepting the reality that the universe, in all its grandeur, couldn't care less about our individual actions. It's true that in a humanistic lens, what we do matters within the microcosm of our lives, but on the universal scale, we're a mere speck on an ordinary galaxy. The sun will eventually explode in 5 billion years, and our existence will come to a definitive end."
Jeonghan's eyes scanned the room, and he implored his students to consider the meaning of all their suffering, effort, and sacrifice. "Where does it all lead? At the end of the day, we're like Sisyphus, condemned to push the rock up the hill only for it to roll back down, forcing us to begin again. But in our condemnation, we should strive not to agonize over the process but to find enjoyment in the act of pushing the boulder as far as we can."
He paused, his gaze intense, and then continued. "The experience and reflection come into play. What we're reflecting upon may appear meaningless to outsiders, but when we are experiencing it, it means the world. Yet, at what point do we realize it's all meaningless? It's the moment we stop being present, take a step back, and question why we're doing this in the first place. We look around and condemn it all as meaningless. This is where the concept of meaning comes into play."
Jeonghan raised a finger, emphasizing the contrast between reflection and lived experience. "When we reflect, we stop doing whatever we're engaged in, and we use our capacity for reason to ask questions. But it's important to recognize how presumptuous this entire process is. We apply this tool of reason to the universe, attempting to derive conclusions, yet what if the reason isn't the right tool for the job?"
He took a deep breath before continuing. "Reflections and reason, as human capacities, may not be the right tools to determine the meaning or meaninglessness of the things we do. What if, instead, we focus on the task at hand, to immerse ourselves fully in what we care about? Reflection is valuable, and a necessary part of life, but it can lead to diminishing returns. If you reflect too much, the only thing it'll do is deteriorate the quality of your lived experience."
As the lecture neared its conclusion, Jeonghan's eyes sparkled with a sense of purpose and resolution. "Embrace the absurdity of the universe, and then immerse yourself fully in the tasks you care about. Just like Sisyphus, who made the rock his own, we should learn to love what we do. Appreciate the grooves in the rock, the hindrances in your path, and the patterns to success. Love what you're doing without constantly pondering if it will have any meaning. After all, if the ultimate doom is inevitable, if everything will cease to exist, why not live and die doing what you love and believe in? Enjoy every moment of pushing your own boulder, and do it with passion and determination."
With a final nod and a warm smile, Jeonghan concluded his lecture on the meaning of life during the Enlightenment era.
As the students packed their bags, Jeonghan left them with a parting comment. "Remember, class, your term papers are due at the end of this week. And my sincere condolences to any grandparents, uncles, and aunts who are going to meet their end at 11:59 on the 29th."
The room filled with a mixture of laughter and groans, the students either appreciating Jeonghan's dark humor or dreading the impending deadline. Noella gathered her belongings, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and made her way down to Jeonghan's desk.
"That was impressive, Dr. Yoon," she complimented him with a warm smile.
"Thank you, but what brings you here?" Jeonghan inquired.
"Oh, the dean just invited me to give a speech for the department," she explained. "Our company is going to join one of the on-campus recruiting events, so I thought I'd see what you've been up to."
Jeonghan nodded in understanding. "Ah, that sounds interesting. Want to catch up over lunch?"
Noella’s laughter rang through the classroom. "Of course, it's not like we didn't meet for dinner last night." The two of them shared a friendly chuckle before leaving the classroom.
........
........
Present day.
London.
The morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow in the hotel suite. Empty bottles still littered the room, and discarded shirts and pants were strewn across the furniture. Wonwoo slept soundly on the bed, his deep slumber undisturbed even by the honking of cars on the street below. The sound was just background noise until it eventually stirred him. His hand reached out, searching for you, but the spot next to him was empty. A sense of panic rushed through him, and he jolted awake.
He looked around the room, his eyes darting from one corner to another. The droplets of tears on his pillows from the night before served as a painful reminder. "No…" he groaned, his heart sinking as he believed that you had left him.
As the ensuite washroom doors opened, you walked out, dressed in the clothes you had worn to Jeonghan's wedding. Your hair was still damp as you towel-dried it. You stood in front of the mirror, unaware of the emotional turmoil Wonwoo had just experienced.
However, his reaction was quite different from what you expected. Wonwoo dashed from the bed, letting the quilt fall to the floor, and enveloped you in a tight hug from behind. "I thought you left," he confessed.
"Shall I pinch you to make sure I'm still here?" you teased, but he remained mostly silent, holding onto you. As you began to apply moisturizers to your arms and neck, you spoke again. "Babe, I appreciate the affection, but can you please shower? We have to pick up Noel and then head to the airport."
You looked up at the mirror to catch his reflection. His hand was nestled against your neck as if he were sleeping while standing. You couldn't help but question the abundance of bottles in the room, asking, "By the way, why are there so many bottles?"
Wonwoo cleared his throat, a bit flustered. "You're right; I should shower."
With that, he planted a kiss on your clothed shoulder and headed to the shower, leaving you to roll your eyes at his antics. As you got ready for the day ahead, you couldn't help but think about the significant conversation you'd had with him the previous night
The previous day, you had called Jeonghan to assure him that you were safe. After shouting and sobbing at you for 15 minutes finally left for his Honeymoon and left Noel with Leila for the night. You and Wonwoo had spent the evening talking, staring from your whole trajectory of Noella and Joshua to Nikolia's death threats.
Now, in the hotel suite, you finished putting on your shoes when Wonwoo emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He began to dress in a black suit, and as you watched him, your eyes couldn't help but linger on the marks your nails had left on his defined back. You quickly looked away, back to the task at hand.
After buttoning and tucking in his shirt, Wonwoo rolled up his sleeves, leaving his veined forearms exposed. You picked up your earrings when he softly called your name, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.
"Hmm," you replied, struggling to clasp the earring lock.
Wonwoo walked closer, stopping beside you. Both of your reflections were visible in the full-length mirror. When you finally managed to clasp the lock, you let out a sigh of relief and reached for the other one when he took your left hand in his and turned you to face him. His thumb traced soothing patterns on your knuckles as he began to speak.
"I know our beginning was far from perfect, but even with its imperfections, it has given me something more than I could wish for. Today, as we walk out of this room, I want us to step into a new beginning—a future where there are no more secrets, no more contracts, just us and Noel. I know I don't deserve you, but I'm willing to humble myself before you."
Wonwoo then got down on one knee, and your eyes widened. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he continued, "I will try every day to prove myself worthy of you if you'll have me."
With trembling hands, he unclenched his fingers to reveal your wedding ring. "Wonu…" you whispered, a lump rising in your throat.
His eyes glistened with tears as he spoke from his heart. "I don't know when it happened, y/n. There were times when I even detested people who changed entirely when they entered a relationship. After Eleanor, I didn't bother seeking that kind of connection. But here I am, on my knees, asking my wife to let me love her, to allow me into her heart. Will you, y/n?"
The tears blurred your vision, but you managed to nod vigorously. Wonwoo carefully slid the ring onto your finger, and as he stood up, he immediately pulled you into a tight hug, overwhelmed with emotions.
As you and Wonwoo walked out of the suite and into the parlor, you were slightly surprised to see four tall, equally buff, and slightly intimidating men standing in the middle of the room. You glanced at your husband with a quizzical expression, and he gave your back a gentle push, saying, "Don't worry, they are your and Noel's new bodyguards."
You blinked in astonishment and turned to look at the four men who were still standing in a respectful bow. "Wonu, I don't need bodyguards," you protested.
Wonwoo gestured to the men to rise and wait outside before addressing your concerns. "Y/n, I am well aware that you're capable of protecting yourself, but I'm not taking any risks or having any discussion on this matter. Please, darling, humor me. You won't even notice them. They've been following you and Noel since the day you arrived."
You hesitated, wanting to argue further, but his words made sense. "But it looks awkward to walk around with guards like…"
"Y/n, although I'm gravely grateful to Noel's grandfather, I can't forget or forgive what his son did," Wonwoo declared with determination. "You have to realize that you're not just an L/N anymore; you're a Jeon now. I'll be damned if I even allow a fly to harm my wife."
Before you could say anything in response, Wonwoo sealed his statement with a tender peck on your lips and began walking toward the exit, your hands clasped together as you followed him.
........
.........
Nikolia found himself in a disorienting darkness, tied securely to a cold, unforgiving chair. He struggled to grasp any sense of time, all memory of the past hours and days escaping him. After his arrest, he had been transported to an undisclosed location, but he had no way of knowing for how long he had been in this inky abyss. The van that brought him here had taken a bizarre turn into the unknown, and that's when the men had covered his face, shrouding him in a suffocating blackness.
His desperate cries and frenzied curses echoed in the void, but they were swallowed by the oppressive silence that clung to him like a shroud. The journey had been a nightmare, a cacophony of fear and dread. When the vehicle finally stopped, his captors grabbed him and dragged him into this unseen space.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and he heard footsteps approach. His heart raced as the men, with hands like steel, grabbed him and removed the blindfold that had been his only connection to the world. A rush of blinding light stabbed at his eyes, and he squinted, disoriented, and dazzled.
Nikolia's first instinct was to struggle against the restraints that bound him to the chair. "Let go of me, you bastard! You're messing with the wrong man here, All I need is one phone call and your whole family is done for" he yelled, the defiance in his voice strained with anger and frustration.
Wonwoo, took a languid drag from his cigarette, his eyes hidden beneath a veneer of cold detachment. "Am I?" He arched one meticulously groomed eyebrow as a henchman in the room landed a brutal punch on Nikolia's face, sending shockwaves of pain coursing through his body. Blood sprayed from his mouth as the impact made his jaw rattle.
As the coppery tang of blood mingled with the acrid scent of tobacco, Wonwoo continued, seemingly unperturbed." you know Nikolia, when I first saw you in the court I understood what a weakling you are, tch, such a waste of a pretty face" Wonwoo tilted his head to the side, as though pondering an intriguing conundrum. "You didn't even have the caliber to fight like a man. If you wanted the money all you had to do was come and beg us"
Nonchalantly, Wonwoo discarded his cigarette and crushed it underfoot, further emphasizing his indifference to Nikolia's suffering. "But no," he continued, rising from his seat with calculated elegance, "you had no go and get yourself get fucked over by your own stupidity"
Wonwoo seized Nikolia by the hair, his grip merciless, and forced him to meet his unrelenting gaze." you should've known your enemy before messing with them, if you get the chance from all the bending, ask who Jeon bo Hyuk was" With those ominous words, Wonwoo swung a heavy fist, striking Nikolia squarely across the cheekbones. The sudden, blinding pain sent white spots dancing before Nikolia's eyes. "That's for even thinking about harming my wife" He gasped as the warmth of blood gushed from his nose.
For a brief moment, Wonwoo stood above him, an imposing figure against the harsh light, before he delivered another devastating blow," and that's on behalf of Noel" he declared, his voice laced with cold fury.
The room filled with the dissonant sounds of Nikolia's choking gasps and labored breathing.
The man in the black suit handed Wonwoo a towel, while behind Nikolia, a maniacal laugh and a series of painful coughs echoed. Nikolia's laughter, punctuated by bloodied gums, grated on the nerves of everyone present, "You're gonna regret this bell boy"
Without turning to face him, Wonwoo retorted, "And what are you going to do, tattle to Yunho?"
Nikolia's eyes widened in alarm as Wonwoo turned to the man in the black suit and commanded, "Return him to Richardson, make sure to tell him to treat him with so much care that he regains his faith in god again"
With a murmured "Yes, boss," the men swiftly began the process of transporting Nikolia out of this nightmarish confrontation.
"And to think," Nikolia sneered, even in his bloodied and beaten state, "that bitch has you wrapped around her finger. I guess her pussy has that effect I still rememb--""
Before he could complete his sentence, Wonwoo's fist struck with unrestrained force, and the chair, still bound to Nikolia's body, fell to the ground. The world swirled into a whirlpool of darkness as Nikolia's consciousness slipped away. Wonwoo gazed down at the battered and broken Nikolia, his voice laced with icy authority. "Rule of the thumb, you keep my wife's name out of your mouth," he declared, the weight of his words bearing down upon the man.
(A/N: Dude why didn't I made wonwoo mafia opens another wip )
........
........
One Month later
The evening of the 75th Anniversary gala was marked by an air of anticipation as you sat in a plush chair, the skilled hands of your makeup artist, Ashton, expertly crafting your hair into a glamorous masterpiece. You held a phone call with Racheal, going over the final details for the night.
"Make sure no more than five interviews," you instructed, your voice firm.
"That's done," Racheal confirmed promptly. "Each will get 2 minutes, and no personal questions."
"Good," you replied with a nod. "Are you there yet?"
Racheal's voice sounded through the phone, "No, just about to reach."
"Okay, then drive safe," you told her before ending the call. The preparations were in full swing as you adorned a stunning red-plated off-shoulder cape dress with a high slit. The fabric draped elegantly around your form, exuding an air of regal sophistication.
Just as you were getting ready, there came a discreet knock at the door. Chan, who had once stood as a symbol of discord between you and Wonwoo, now entered the room, holding a blue box in his hands. While things had improved between him and Chan, the tension still lingered his presence often an uncomfortable reminder of past misunderstandings. Wonwoo was prepared to go so far as to fire Chan in his act of contrition. However, you intervened, reminding him, "Why should someone else suffer for something you initiated?"
"Mr. Jeon sent you this," Chan explained, "and expressed his desire to see you wear it tonight."
You excused everyone from the room, leaving only Ashton behind, and Chan proceeded to open the box with a sense of reverence. Revealed within was a necklace that bore a stunning piece of history—an emerald and diamond creation that had once belonged to Catalina the Second of Russia. The gem sparkled with a rare, captivating beauty that made even Ashton gasp in awe.
"This is from the Anakami collection, part of the royal vault of Russia," Chan informed you, his tone respectful and impressed.
You nodded, your knowledge of the piece shining through. "From Catalina the Second."
Chan's understanding smile mirrored his acknowledgment of your profound familiarity with the necklace. Your appreciative smile revealed your thanks, and you gestured for Ashton to place the exquisite piece around your neck.
As the necklace adorned your neckline, he couldn't help but compliment, "Indeed, your husband has an eye for a gem."
Thanking Chan for his delivery, you expected him to take his leave, but he remained in place. After Ashton left the room, Chan went into a polite bow. You looked at him and turning back to your reflection with a more somber expression, you addressed him.
"Get up, Chan," you said gently, "the workers should not apologize for their loyalty to their boss. You did what any subordinate would do. I am not angry with you."
Chan's smile returned, and he bowed once more, an expression of gratitude and humility in his eyes. As he prepared to leave the room, you stopped him with a final piece of advice.
"Chan," you began in a soft but firm tone, "next time, try to keep your experiences and advice to yourself. Hmm?"
"Duly noted, madam," Chan replied with an appreciative nod. The understanding between you felt like a small step toward restoring a sense of normalcy to your relationship.
You were nearly ready, as Ashton entered again to finish the final touches.
The grand gala was a spectacle of opulence and glamour. The chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal facets glistening in the soft, warm light. Servers in impeccable uniforms weaved through the crowd, offering trays of exquisite hors d'oeuvres and champagne flutes. The air was filled with the clicks of cameras and the hum of hushed conversations as guests from various elite circles, including A-listers, entrepreneurs, and influential individuals from both sides of your families, mingled and celebrated.
The event's announcer took center stage, standing beside the grand stairs, and her voice resonated through the room as all eyes turned toward her. "Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you all to the grand celebration of 75 years of L/N Diamonds and Special Stones. We gather here to honor the visionary who started it all 75 years ago with his hard work, dedication, and passion for a woman's best friend. What makes this evening even more special is that it is also a celebration in honor of the newlyweds, the heiress of the L/Ns, and the prince of JJ Group, Jeon Wonwoo."
The crowd erupted into applause, and Wonwoo, surrounded by business partners, raised his glass, receiving smiles and nods from those around him.
The announcer continued, "Now, without further ado, I would like to call upon the stage the star of the evening, the diamond heiress and the CEO of Fareed Switzerland, Y/n L/N."
All eyes turned to the top of the grand stairs, and the clapping of the guests filled the hall. You descended the stairs gracefully, your red cape trailing behind you, giving you the appearance of a character from a classic film. The necklace adorning your neck, a magnificent royal heirloom from Russia, captured everyone's attention.
Everything seemed to slow down for Wonwoo as he watched you descend the stairs. He was struck by the realization of his incredible luck in being married to such a remarkable woman. His chest swelled with pride and second-guessed his luck.
As you reached the stage and adjusted the microphone, you smiled at the host and began your address, "Thank you, Lana, for that lovely introduction. Although the second half was lost to me because I was busy thinking about how not to trip on the stairs."Laughter rippled through the crowd. "Since I'm not a big fan of long speeches, I'll keep this address short and sweet. This evening is not about celebrating L/N Diamonds and Fareed but about those who dare to dream and the realists who support their dreamers, like Mr. Locke, Mr. Kim, and Mr. Jeong, who are present here this evening."
The spotlight fell upon their table, and you acknowledged them with a nod as they raised their glasses. "They started this journey with my grandfather 75 years ago, and, most importantly, to the backbone of this foundation who are present here—from the miners to the designers." You paused a round of applause resonated through the crowds, "When I was young, my grandfather would often be stuck in his office, spending hours analyzing the diamonds. He talked to me passionately about their history."
You continued, "One day, in my naivete, I asked, 'Grandpa, who do you love more, the diamonds or Grandma?' It might seem like a silly question, but he turned to me and said, 'Your grandma.'"
You recalled his words, "How come? You rarely spend time with her." He laughed and replied, "Because when I make a bracelet she likes, the smile on her face and the pride with which she wears that piece make me feel like she's carrying my love with her everywhere she goes. Love is never constant. Some days can be bad, and some good, but we do not live in days; we live in memories. These diamonds remind us of why we choose to wake up every day and be with the person we love."
You expressed your gratitude for the past 75 years, "For the last 75 years, we have not only been making diamonds but tokens of love that eternalize our memories—resilient, forever cherishable, and bound by legacy. So, let's raise our glasses to the 75 years of trust from our customers and the passion of our designers.
To my parents, who taught me love, to my son, who reminds me of how to love."
Your eyes found Noel standing with your father-in-law, holding his hand just a few feet away from the stage. Your eyes find Wonwoo's across the room when you smile as you address your husband, "And to my husband, who has shown me what it feels like to be loved."
The entire room joined in, raising their glasses and echoing your words, "To love."
Wonwoo mouthed the words, "To love," as he emptied his flute, a contented smile on his face.
(the angel on the left "This is getting too fluffy"
angel on the right "It is an epilogue it is supposed to be fluffy")
The music resumed, and you gracefully stepped down from the stage, leaving Rachel to deal with the waiting media. After about 20 minutes of enduring half-baked sexist questions and borderline invasions of privacy regarding your marriage and the recent conflict, you finally returned to the party and began greeting the guests one by one.
On the other side of the party, Rachel had finished her duties and decided to take a break at the bar. She ordered a drink and was savoring the moment when someone approached her. There was a slight hesitation in his demeanor, but he continued, "Shall I give you my card? I think you're going to need an attorney tonight."
Rachel furrowed her brows in confusion, asking, "Why?" Lowering his voice a bit, he replied, "Because you're dressed to kill." She rolled her eyes and smiled behind her glass. "Come on, it wasn't that bad," he defended.
"I didn't say anything," she replied, looking up at him. Their eyes locked, and Rachel felt hers drifting down to his lips. Unconsciously, she bit her lip and shook her head to snap out of her trance. That's when Jungkook cleared his throat and began, "Listen, Rach, about the other day…"
Rachel cut him off, saying, "It's alright. It doesn't matter. It was just a kiss. We met by chance, had an argument about wines, and then one thing led to another. It was a mistake, so let's forget about it, okay?"
Jungkook felt a pang of rejection, something quite unfamiliar to him in his experiences with women. He clenched his hands inside his pockets and wanted to say he didn't want to forget it, but before he could, a server interjected. "Excuse me, Ms. Lee. Madam Y/n is calling for you." Following the server's indication, Rachel spotted you standing in a group and beckoning her over with a subtle gesture as your eyes met. She got down from the stool, took her drink, and told Jungkook, "It was nice meeting you, Jungkook. Take care," before leaving him.
Jungkook, feeling a strange wave of melancholy, needing some air, took a glass of scotch and walked towards the balcony.
As you saw Rachel approaching, you gently pulled her to your side and introduced her, "Nora, Minny, gentlemen, this is Rachel Lee, currently the Managing Director at L/N's. Rach, this is the board of Fareed." They all exchanged greetings and shook hands, sharing a few words and smiles. You continued, "People, I hope you all treat Rachel well. She's my nomination for the COO candidate for Fareed."
Rachel could feel her eyes widen in astonishment, and her mouth slightly opened, but she quickly schooled her features. Bubbles of excitement tingled through her, just like they did when she kissed Jungkook. She stopped herself from following that train of thought and focused on answering Minny's questions.
.......
You were engrossed in a conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Kwon, Joon-hee's in law's, who was complimenting your exquisite necklace Mrs. Kwon, leaning towards you with a sly smile, said, "Thank you, I'm glad you both could make it. I thought you'd be in Japan."
Mr. Kwon nodded in agreement as his wife continued, "We were, but then Sunmi insisted we attend, especially since we didn't get the chance to meet her daughter-in-law due to your wish for a quick and private wedding."
You responded with a thin-lipped smile and a nod, but before you could reply, a familiar arm wrapped around your waist, enveloping you in a comforting scent.“There you are sweetheart, Sorry I am late, I was looking everywhere for you” Wonwoo smiled down at you and planted a soft kiss on the corner of your lips.
"Evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kwon. How have you been?" Wonwoo greeted them.
Mrs. Kwon interjected, "We're fine, as much as age allows us to be. I was just telling your wife that her preference for private meetings can sometimes leave a bad impression regarding close relationships."
You were about to respond, but Wonwoo beat you to it. He explained, "Well, it was my wish to have a private wedding. I didn't want to waste plates, where mouths would be busy chatting instead of chewing food."
Mrs. Kwon's expression soured, and she clicked her tongue against her teeth. On the other hand, Mr. Kwon smiled and reached out to shake hands with Wonwoo. "How are you, young man? Why don't I see you around the club anymore? You know, Y/n, he'd give even Matsuyama a run for his money."
Wonwoo gave a humble shake of his head. "Mr. Kwon is too kind. Well, if it's okay with you, may I steal my wife?"
Mr. Kwon let out a hearty laugh and said, "Sure, young man."
Wonwoo swiftly pulled you away from the couple, and as you walked side by side, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, "You look absolutely gorgeous."
You teased back, "You don't look half bad yourself." The subtle flashes of cameras continued as you asked about his interviews. He gave you a tired look that conveyed his reluctance to discuss it at the moment.
As you both approached your parents, Noel ran to you and hugged your legs. "Baby boy, are you having fun?" You asked, and he nodded, pointing towards Somi. "Can Somi and I go to the chocolate fountain?"
"Sure, why not," you gestured for them to follow Tham, As he waved goodbye to your dad.
With the kids occupied, you talked to your parents, complimenting both your mother and mother-in-law on their incredible planning and coordination. Your parents were going to Italy for a bit of business that your father had, followed by a leisure trip to Sicily.
As you were about to move on to greet other guests, Lana took the microphone and said, "Although the average wedding reception occurs within an hour of the ceremony this one took 3 months" subtle chuckle from the guest "upon the suggestion of Mrs. Sunmi Jeon herself, I would like to request Mr. and Mrs. Jeon to bestow the honor of their first dance."
You looked around, a bit surprised, as all eyes were on you, anticipating your dance. You were about to shake your head in refusal when Wonwoo extended his hand towards you, his eyes locked onto yours. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Jeon?" he asked with a charming smile.
You looked at his outstretched hand and then met his gaze. There was a shared understanding, a connection that ran deeper than words could express. With a nod and a graceful curtsy, you accepted his invitation. You placed your hand in his, feeling his strong, warm grasp, and he pulled you gently towards him.
The crowd hushed in anticipation as the first notes of the waltz enveloped the room. You and Wonwoo moved together as if you were the only two people in the world. The dance floor felt like a world of its own, a place where only the two of you existed.
Your red dress swirled around you, its cape fluttering in harmony with the rhythm of the music. Wonwoo's tuxedo looked impeccable, and the soft colors of your outfits complemented each other perfectly. With each step and twirl, you moved as one, your eyes locked, and smiles shared.
On the balcony, Jungkook stood gazing at the night sky, an air of melancholy surrounding him. The soft glow of the stars above painted a serene backdrop to his contemplation. The world seemed to move on around him as he lost himself in his thoughts.
A voice broke through his reverie as Joonhee opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. She had a teasing tone in her voice as she asked, "Hey, you aren't planning on jumping, are you?"
Jungkook didn't turn to look at her. He replied with a hint of wry humor, "Not without leaving a testimony that if I'm found dead, the first person to look for is you."
She walked over to him and stood by his side, her back against the railing, and her elbows resting on it. Curiosity laced her words as she asked, "You're wearing the same expression you had when we had to put Dora down."
Jungkook offered a rueful smile, reminded of their first horse, and said, "Not really, just thinking about a few things. Where's your husband?"
She glanced towards the hall where you and Wonwoo were dancing. "He's near the chocolate fountain with the kids."
Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. "Do you ever think that you're raising two kids, not just one?"
Joonhee smiled and nodded. "Every day."
A comfortable silence settled between them as they both leaned against the railing, watching the two of you dancing inside the hall. Eventually, Joonhee began to speak, her words filled with wisdom. "I've learned in life that if something doesn't work out, it means something better is waiting around the corner. You just have to be patient."
Jungkook clicked his tongue and voiced his doubts. "Sometimes certain things don't get better with time. They always take a part of you with them, and you're left incomplete, no matter what you do to fill the void."
Joonhee offered her perspective. "Then maybe you're filling that void with the wrong things." Both of them turned their gaze towards you and Wonwoo, who were concluding your dance.
"Remember when Eleanor left, oppa?" Joonhee hummed, her thoughts drifting back. "He was nothing but an empty shell, always working, never laughing, and not even attending the same places as she did. I hated her for what she did." She turned to Jungkook. "But that didn't stop you, did it?"
Jungkook shrugged, nonchalantly. "I can't be bothered about her. Her husband is an important client of my firm, and you know how it works. We don't really have a choice."
Joonhee nodded thoughtfully. "Look at him now. You know, Jungkook, things do get better with time. But if you find something you really want, then you have to fight for it."
Jungkook questioned with a hint of uncertainty, "What if fighting makes it worse?"
"Then let it go," Joonhee advised. "If it's meant to be, it will be." They watched as you and Wonwoo concluded your dance, finding solace in the knowledge that sometimes, life had its own way of bringing better things when least expected.
As the final notes of the music filled the air, you and Wonwoo came to a graceful stop, and the room erupted in applause.
.......
As the night wore on and the party grew livelier, the atmosphere became even more festive after the dinner. You had just sent Noel home and Wonwoo was engrossed in conversation with some old college friends, their laughter echoing from the other side of the room. you found yourself near the bar, waiting for your drink. From amidst the crowd, you spotted a familiar face approaching, and a smile of recognition crossed your lips as he stood in front of you.
"It's been a while," he said as he slid next to you.
You nodded and replied, "Three years, I suppose. How have you been, Mr. Choi?"
Seungcheol grinned, "Y/n, please. I thought we were friends." He tilted his head, and you nodded in agreement.
"I've been good, just returned from Denmark," you told him.
"I see. And how's Mr. and Mrs. Choi?" he asked.
"Same old, playing the Cupid," you replied, and both of you shared a laugh.
"I would say you could relate, but here you are, married, leaving your comrade all alone," he said with a mock frown.
"Oh, come on. You know there was a limit to how far we could keep up the ruse. My mother caught on before the third date," you reminded him.
Wonwoo couldn't help but smile as he took a sip from his glass, listening to his friend's humorous recollection of their past swimming adventures, including the infamous incident where they had stolen his clothes, leaving him standing naked. However, his laughter concealed as His gaze wandered around the room and eventually landed on you, near the bar, sharing a hearty laugh at something Seungcheol had just said. Wonwoo's eyes were fixed on you, his brow furrowed in thought as he tried to place where he had seen Seungcheol before.
He watched as you laughed freely with someone else, your joy radiating from you like a warm glow. A tinge of unease settled in his chest as he realized that he couldn't easily divert his attention from the sight of you both having such a good time together.
"That's a cute kid," Seungcheol commented as you showed him pictures of Noel from Jeonghan's wedding. "Wow, so that's Jeonghan and Victor you were telling me about?"
You nodded and locked your phone. He raised an eyebrow, seemingly remembering something. "And what about that friend of yours, what's her name?"
"Noella," you assisted.
"Yes, what about her?"
You cleared your throat and informed him with a sad smile, "She and her husband passed away in a car accident two years ago."
A look of remorse flashed in Seungcheol's deep, dark eyes. "My sincere condolences, Y/n. I didn't know."
You smiled, saying, "It's alright, just life, you know."
He nodded in agreement, and a moment of silence passed between the two of you. Seungcheol then picked up his glass and said, "Well, I wasn't going to make it tonight, but I was curious to meet the man who managed to sweep you off your feet. Where is he?"
Before you could answer, Wonwoo's voice sounded from behind. "Why don't you meet him yourself?" You turned, slightly surprised, to find Wonwoo standing beside you, emitting a slightly intimidating vibe while keeping his eyes trained on Seungcheol.
You tried to break the stare-down, saying, "Seungcheol oppa, meet Jeon Wonwoo, my husband." You grabbed Wonwoo's arm and continued, "Wonwoo, this is Choi Seongcheol, you must have heard of him, Choi Motors and Tyres."
Wonwoo frowned and shook his head, saying, "Nah, doesn't ring a bell." You gave him a wide-eyed look, shocked by his response.
Seungcheol just laughed and reassured, "Y/n, maybe we have to work harder to reach the tall towers," extending his hand for Wonwoo to shake.
Wonwoo's hand was still in his pocket, and you dug your nails into his bicep. He reluctantly took his hand out of his pocket and gave a tight grip and shake. Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, saying, "It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jeon."
Wonwoo replied, "Likewise. May I know how you know my wife?"
Seungcheol explained, "Y/n and I go way back. Our mothers are friends, and they decided to set us up together. So, we used to date."
"Fake date," you corrected.
Seungcheol teased, "Really, it was real for me." He felt Wonwoo's grip tighten, but he was enjoying making the man squirm. "Our mothers set us up to save the hassle, so we'd say we were on dates when, in truth, we'd just meet for 4-6 minutes and then part ways."
You chuckled as you continued, "Then, oppa had to leave for Denmark, and that's that."
"Tch, if not, you'd be Mrs. Choi today," he said with feigned remorse, further provoking Wonwoo. Wonwoo's smirk grew as he clenched his jaw.
He took his right hand out of his pocket, which was brushing your side. You released your grip on his arm and rested on your hand side, As he wrapped an arm around your waist, a little lower on the hip. You gave him a quizzical look.
"Then I should treat my mother-in-law better for being so quick-witted," he remarked.
"Wonwoo, did you know—" you began, but he cut you off.
"Y/n, Dad said he was leaving. Do you want to see him off?"
You felt a slight irritation flare within you as he cut you off, but you masked it with a smile, nodded, and turned to Seongcheol.
"It was so nice catching up with you, Oppa. If you're here for a while, why don't you come to our house? I'm sure it would be fun."
"Ah, I wish, but I have to fly back in a few days. But it was nice seeing you again, Mr. Jeon," Seongcheol said.
"Mr. Cho."
"Congratulations on your marriage and 75 years of L/N's."
"Thank you, Oppa."
Seongcheol looked at Wonwoo and advised, "Take care of this one; she can be a little feisty."
Wonwoo responded, "You don't say." With that, Seongcheol turned and left with a smile on his face.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Wonwoo turned to you and said, "Funny man. So, how many more have you fake-dated?"
You gave him a glare. "What was that?"
He looked down at you, confused. "What was what?"
"How many have I fake-dated before Seongcheol oppa?"
"Oh, now he's your oppa," Wonwoo mumbled.
"I can't believe this, Rude bastard" you muttered, shaking your head as you walked away from him. He glanced at your retreating figure and asked Himself, "Was I really that rude?"
.........
It was 2 am by the time you both reached home, your whole body aching from standing all evening. Adding fuel to the fire was Wonwoo, who still lingered around you. You managed to give him a little cold shoulder, still pissed at how he cut you off and treated your guest and asked that question. You never asked him how many women he indulged in, now did you?
As you were about to shut the door, a hand stopped it. "This is my room too," he said matter-of-factly.
"Right," you replied as you picked up the phone you threw on the bed. You were about to leave when he stopped you.
"Y/n, don't be like that. Come on, baby."
"Don't 'baby' me. Why did you have to act like some territorial brute, as if I have—"
"I know, I'm sorry. I just… I don't know, I didn't like seeing you laughing with another man. It pissed me off, okay?"
You raised your brows, pressing your lips into a thin line. "So, can I ask you if I do that as a profession? Fake date people? Do you even know what it feels like to have someone always nagging on top of your head, huh? With another shit-ton of things going on in life?" Your voice fell an octave.
"I know, baby. I'm sorry. It's just… fuck, I was just so pissed that I don't know what got over me, and I said that. I was just jealous."
You turned to him. "Would you forgive me if I admit I was?" He looked like a kicked puppy, and your anger radiated off of you.
You both walked back to your bedroom. Wonwoo's knees hit the edge of the bed as he plopped down, looking up at you. You gave him a knowing look, teasing, "How jealous?"
You placed your knees between his legs, pressing your kneecap against his groin. A soft hiss escaped his lips. He admitted, "So jealous that I wanted to take you right there in front of all those people. The moment you walked down those stairs, I couldn't believe my luck, that I am married to you."
You felt your heart quicken, and the familiar fire ignited within you. Slowly, you reached to remove the pin holding your hair in a half updo, letting your hair cascade down. You were about to take off your earrings when he stopped you, saying, "Leave them on."
He grabbed your hips, making you take a step back with one foot on the bed, causing you to fall back down. He pulled you to straddle his lap. Both of you leaned in, and your lips brushed against each other. You grabbed the back of his head and jerked it back, teasingly saying, "Nuh-uh."
You got off his lap and walked to the dressing table, settling down on the plush chair.
You gestured with your fingers in a "come hither" motion. On your command, Wonwoo discarded his suit jacket, tossing it somewhere in the room. He walked over to where you were sitting. When he was just two steps away, you raised your hand to halt him in his tracks, and he stopped.
"On your knees," you ordered.
"Y/N," he warned.
You raised your brows, taunting him. "So you don't want your forgiveness?"
He hesitated. You repeated your command, "Come here to me on your knees, Wonwoo, or I'll leave the room."
Without missing a beat, he dropped to his knees and took the remaining two steps, bringing him between your parted legs. A glimpse of your panties was visible from the slightly hiked slit in your dress. Wonwoo licked his lips and swallowed as he knelt before you.
Once he was on his knees between your legs, his hands reached to touch your thighs.
"Did I say you can touch me?" you asked.
"You're playing with fire," he threatened.
"Why, are you afraid of being extinguished?"
"Open my shoes," you demanded.
His eyes were burning with desire, but equally aroused and dilated. His hands reached your feet, and you raised your feet as the shoes fell with a thud, the relief of finally removing them washing over you.
Wonwoo brought your ankle near his mouth and bit on the Achilles tendon, making you hiss.
"Show me how sorry you are," you breathed out. His hands gripped your thighs to pull you to the edge of the seat.
"Tch, no hands," you commanded.
"How will I?" he asked.
"That's not my problem," you replied.
He removed his hands from your thighs and gripped the sides of the chair's cushion, his knuckles turning white as he slowly kissed his way up from your calves to your inner thighs, biting, kissing, and licking until he reached your panties. He took a whiff, rubbed his nose, and muffled, "How will I remove them?"
Your excitement was building, evident in your soaked panties. You condescended, leering down at him, "Foolish man can't even do this much alone."
Suddenly, he gave a hot lick and a soft bite on your labia, making you jolt and yelp. You grabbed his hair and pulled him away, a smug smile on his lips. "You think you're funny, huh?" Your chest heaved. "Just couldn't resist," he said with feigned innocence. You clenched your jaw and leaned back.
Your back was against the dressing table, and your feet, previously resting next to his thighs, were now pressing against his bulging, aroused crotch. You pressed your heels into him, making him hiss, and rubbed them up and down with slight pressure. Cocking your head to the side, you asked, "Don't you think you were a little out of line just now?"
His eyes slightly shut, enjoying the sensation, he responded with a low hum. You pressed harder for an answer.
"I'm sorry," he admitted.
"But I don't feel like you're sorry, darling."
You halted your actions and slowly bunched the dress around your waist. "Use your teeth."
On your command, Wonwoo leaned in and bit the side hem of your thong as you raised your hips to slide it down your feet.
"Now, here's your chance for redemption. Make it like you mean it."
Without further ado, Wonwoo gripped the cushion in a vice grip and delved into your bundle of nerves, exploring every nook and corner with his tongue and small bites. Your hands grabbed his hair, and you pushed him further in, your labored breaths and gasps echoing in the room.
One of your legs hiked up on his shoulder. "Fuck… ahhh… Won… Wonuuu…"
He continued with an unforgiving pace, your hips automatically trying to ride his face. The familiar tension started building in your womb, and you threw your head back, jaw slack. Your body and senses succumbed to the pleasure as the orgasm finally consumed you, with chants of his name leaving your lips. You came down from your high, panting.
Wonwoo felt a surge of pride course through him. It was his name on your lips, and your release belonged to him. He had been a fool to let a petty thought ruin the mood, but now he understood the beauty of redemption.
After you finally calmed down, he looked up at you and said, "Am I forgiven, baby?"
You nodded and teased, "Can I touch you now?"
"That's not how you ask for permission, Wonu," you playfully chided, "Do I have to give you a special etiquette class?"
He shook his head in response and corrected himself, "Can I please touch you?"
"Yes, you may," you granted him permission.
Without a second thought, he sprang to his feet, pulling you up from your seat. He captured your lips in a feverish kiss as his hands reached for your zipper. The dress pooled at your feet, and your hands were busy undressing him. You threw his coat and belt aside, opened his shirt, and then dealt with his pants as his hands touched and groped every part of you.
He was throbbing painfully as your hands grabbed him, rubbing along his slit. He sat on the bed and pulled you to straddle his lap, raising your hips as you rubbed his head against your lips. You slowly descended down on his length, both of you moaning together. Your hips matched each other's pace as you rode him, and the pleasure was overwhelming.
Your hair was sticking to your back as you reached to gather it into a makeshift ponytail. The earrings and necklace were the only accessories adorning you. He groped and sucked on your nipples, rolling his tongue around them and grazing with his thumb while the other hand played with the other.
You reached your other hand down and gave his balls a squeeze, eliciting a loud moan from him. "FUCK, Y/N," he exclaimed as he looked up at you, an enticing sight for his eyes.
"Not so soon," you panted. But he was desperate and wanted more. You fiddled with his balls, letting go of your hair, and pushed him back onto the bed. You began to ride him vigorously.
Even in the midst of overwhelming pleasure, he couldn't close his eyes. Your hips picked up the pace, and your chests matched the rhythm. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your neck, which was adorned with the expensive necklace he had gifted you, worth every million.
Your hands gave him another squeeze, and his release shot up. "Will you cut me off again?" you commanded.
Wonwoo shook his head in desperation. "No, no, never, never," he declared, his hips chasing the final ropes of pleasure.
He reached for the back of your head and brought your lips to his, your chests pressed tightly against each other. His thrusts chased the climax. "You fuck me like this and then question why I get jealous when another man tries to come close to you? How would you feel if some other woman tried flirting with me?" He gasped against your lips, and you bit down on his lips, tasting a slight tinge of copper.
"That's just wishful thinking, darling," you retorted, "as if you'd even desire another woman after getting fucked by me." You clenched around him, his now softening dick, making him gasp as your pleasure overtook you.
Wonwoo couldn't help but agree, realizing that you couldn't be more right.
.........
.........
2 Months Later
You were sitting in the living area, waiting anxiously for Noel and Wonwoo to return from their baseball game with your father-in-law. The news you had learned that morning had your heart racing and your palms sweaty. You couldn't help but feel jittery as you waited.
Finally, Noel and Wonwoo walked in, and to your shock, they had a puppy with them. You looked at both of them with a puzzled expression, "What is this?"
Wonwoo appeared confused and asked, "What? This little furball?"
You huffed, "Yes, that golden retriever puppy."
"Oh, come on, Y/N, don't be like that. That's Noel," Wonwoo replied, trying to explain.
A chorus of "hey" came from the boy, who was now playing with the little golden retriever pup. You glared at Wonwoo, crossed your arms, and tilted your head to the side, clearly displeased.
Noel began, "On our way back, we saw a woman putting this puppy litter on the road. She was giving them away because her dog died while giving birth, and she couldn't raise them all alone. So she was giving them to whoever wanted to take them."
You scowled at Wonwoo and retorted, "You could have asked me first, you know."
He defended their decision, "Yeah, that would have ruined the surprise."
Wonwoo then took the pup in his hands and held it up in front of his face, using a fake cute voice, "Don't you think I'm cute?"
You looked down at Noel, who was giving you the same puppy-dog eyes as the actual puppy. He pleaded, "I promise I'll take care of him. I'll take him for walks, feed him on time, and even give him a bath, I promise."
Wonwoo chimed in, "He promised."
You sighed and continued to examine the dog, lowering yourself to its eye level. You extended your hand for it to smell, and it automatically started licking your hand. You looked up and inquired, "Did you at least get him checked by the vet and have him registered for vaccines and stuff?" Your tone was laced with a warning.
Wonwoo hesitated, avoiding eye contact, and a sense of guilt washed over him.
But before you could press further, Noel interjected with enthusiasm, "Of course, we did, Dad and I took him to the vet, and I've even named him."
"So, what did you name him?" You looked at Wonwoo and then at Noel, curiosity in your eyes.
Wonwoo began, "Well, I first suggested Tony, you know, after Tony Stark—"
"But then he kind of reminded me of Baden," Noel interrupted. The pup gave a yelp, as if responding, and Noel continued, "He liked it, see? He even responds to it. So I named him Baden."
You and Wonwoo exchanged a knowing glance. You had informed Noel about Baden's passing in an accident and had made sure his funeral was well taken care of. However, you refrained from attending, choosing instead to pay your respects a week later.
You gave Noel a tight smile and reached to take the dog from your husband's arms, raising him to your eye level. "So you are Baden," you mused. The little puppy wagged his tail and stuck out his tongue, letting out a small bark. "But I'm going to call him Denny," Noel innocently added. You silently approved, knowing that you'd likely be calling the dog's name at some point, and you didn't want to summon the spirit of Baden Bulavia inadvertently.
"Then welcome to the family, Baden. I hope you take good care of my son," you said to the puppy. As if understanding every word, the little dog turned his head to the side, listening intently.
With a nod of satisfaction, you sent Noel off to take a shower and asked Ahjumma to buy some milk and puppy diapers. You couldn't deny the cuteness of the new addition, but you had no intentions of cleaning up after his mess on your new carpets and bedding.
"Wonwoo, we need to talk," you said, your voice carrying the weight of seriousness. Wonwoo, who was in the middle of sharing details about the game, immediately stopped speaking. He could sense the gravity in your tone. Following your lead, he walked to his ground-floor office.
Upon entering, you closed the door behind you. adorned with rich mahogany bookshelves, stuffed with leather-bound books, and filled with the intoxicating scent of Paper and Tobacco. Files were meticulously arranged on the desk, and a sleek laptop sat at its center, the flickering screen casting a bluish glow on the polished wooden surface.
"Y/n, if it's about the dog, then I'm sorry. I know I should have informed you, but I couldn't say no to Noel and -"
Your heart was racing, and his rambling only made it worse. You fiddled with your wedding ring, taking quick breaths.
"…and I know you don't like surprises. If you want, then I guess I'll return it back."
"Wonwoo, I'm pregnant!" you blurted out in a quick breath.
As soon as the words left your mouth, all the rambling died in Wonwoo's throat. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, and all the switches in his brain seemed to go off. The world slowed down around him, and anxious anticipation coursed through his veins. In a whispered tone, punctuating each word, he asked, "You are what?" His eyes widened, and his eyebrows almost touched his forehead.
"Well, for the past few days, I was feeling kinda queasy, and my periods were late. I went to the doctor earlier when you both were at the game because I wasn't sure, considering the uterine device…"
Wonwoo took a step towards you, and you continued, "The doctor ran some tests, and… I am four weeks pregnant."
You kept your gaze on your hands as you spoke. When you felt Wonwoo's hand on your shoulder, you raised your head to see him. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and your eyes welled up as well. "You are pregnant," he said, his voice trembling towards the end. "We are going to have a child, a baby."
A sense of doubt arose in his voice as he asked, "Are you unhappy?"
"Are you kidding me? I am the happiest man on Earth right now," he said and picked you up, spinning you around. You laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder. He halted his spinning to look into your eyes.
"We can't tell anyone, at least for the next two months."
"But—"
"No 'buts.' I just don't want to jinx it."
He looked a bit dejected but understood your point. "But we should at least tell the housekeeper to be extra careful and Noel that he's going to be an elder brother now."
A smile faded from your face, and Wonwoo gently put you down, cupping your face in his hands. "What's wrong?"
"It's just… I don't want other people's malice to affect Noel. You know how they talk behind our backs, and what if Noel feels neglected and hates it."
"My love, Noel is a very wise and smart boy who knows that no matter what, your love for him and his place in your heart will always be irreplaceable, okay?"
Bending down to your eye level, Wonwoo kissed your forehead and then your cheeks. "You have no idea how happy I feel right now. I can't wait to hold her."
You furrowed your brows and looked up at him. "How do you know it's a 'her'?"
"Call it a father's instinct," he said, and you rolled your eyes, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "Load of shit."
"What—" He laughed. "You don't believe me. You'll see. The way she managed to dodge the uterine device with her resilience and stubbornness, there are no other arguments but to think it's a girl. Just like her mother." You pinched his hip. "Ouch! Haha."
He embraced you tightly, taking a step back to hold your chin between his thumb, bending down, and getting lost in a heartfelt kiss.
.......
Later that night, after dinner, Wonwoo went and told the housekeeper and Noel's nanny that you were expecting and to be extra careful with you, not even allowing you to step into the kitchen. And signing off that if this information goes outside he will know who leaked it.
The room was painted in shades of red and gold, resembling an Iron Man theme room. Beddings, action figures, and toy cars lined the shelves, creating an exciting atmosphere. The door was left open, and Wonwoo leaned against it, watching as Noel sat on his bed, ready to sleep. He was reading a book to Denny, the pup, who sat on his stomach with a diaper on, listening attentively.
"Hey, bud, got a minute," Wonwoo called.
"Oh, Dad, come in," Noel responded, looking up from his book.
Wonwoo sat on the side of the bed near the bedside table and wrapped his arms around Noel's shoulder. The pup jumped onto Wonwoo's lap, and his hands instinctively started petting the soft fur.
"What are you reading there?" he asked, pointing to the book.
"The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse."
"Hmm, that's deep stuff," Wonwoo remarked.
"So did you have fun today?" he asked.
"Yeah, it was fun. By the way," Noel turned his body to face his dad, "does Grandpa get that excited about every match like that?"
Wonwoo snorted and said, "Pretty much, yeah. He used to be like that when I played in college."
"You played baseball in college?" Noel looked curious.
Wonwoo nodded. "Do you like any sports?" he asked.
"Well," Noel started, thinking for a moment, "I like horse riding, but baseball is cool too."
"Anything else?" Wonwoo suggested.
"Hmm, football. Uncle JJ told me that he and my father used to play football together sometimes."
"Football, huh? If you want, you can play too. JK is really into football. I'll ask him if he knows any good clubs."
"No, it's okay, my school has a team," Noel added.
"So, I wanted to talk to you about something," he cleared his throat and started. "Tante wants me to return Denny."
"What? No, she doesn't. The thing is, you're going to be an older brother."
"How?"
"Please don't make me give you a birds and bees talk right now; I am not prepared."
"Do you mean Tante is going to have a baby?"
"How do you know this?"
"We were taught in Moral and Physical Ed class about good touch and bad touch. They also told us how babies come in their mom's stomach."
Wonwoo felt it was best that he left this conversation to You. "Right."
"Yeah, when a man and a woman come together, and—"
"Got it, bud. Yes, we made a baby." Wonwoo cleared his throat at the end of the sentence.
"But I just wanted to talk about you being an older brother now. So, you're going to have a lot of responsibility and have to look out for your sibling and grow taller and stronger."
He closed his eyes and started again. "Noel," Wonwoo breathed. "There are going to be times when people's opinions grow a vicious voice in our heads and make you feel bad about yourself and other things. I just want you to know that even though we are not related by blood, you will always be a special part of our hearts. So, no matter what people say, you will always be our son. We will always love you, okay? So whenever you feel like that, you can come and talk to us, hmm?"
Wonwoo gave a reassuring squeeze on Noel's shoulder, and the boy wrapped his small arms around his ribs, hugging him and nodding against his chest. Wonwoo smiled and looked down, caressing his back, then kissed him on the top of his head. They realized they were almost squishing the pup between them when a small bark interrupted their moment. Parting, Wonwoo said, "I still think we should've gone with Noel Jr."
"DADDDD!!" Noel whined, making Wonwoo laugh. "Okay, okay."
........
........
In the cold, sterile jail visitor cell, Nikolia sat on one side of a thick glass partition, separated from his lawyer, who occupied the other side. They conversed through old, scratched telephones affixed to the wall.
Nikolia appeared unkempt and disheveled, with wild, devilish hair, dark eye bags, and an unruly beard. His wrists were encircled by handcuffs, a constant reminder of his current predicament.
“What do you mean my appeal got fucking canceled?” Nikolia growled, his frustration evident in his every word.
His lawyer, a man in his 50s with thinning hair, closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts before explaining, "It hasn't been canceled, Nikolia. It has been taken for further consideration."
“Then how much time will they need for consideration, huh? What do I feed you for? Fifteen years you've worked for me, and this is the best you could do, you pathetic fat pig.”
The lawyer sighed, realizing he had to tread carefully. “Nikolia, I understand your frustration, but you've been charged with four murders—three of your own family members—and other illegal arms trade activities. This led to the cancellation of our license as well. If that were not enough, you gave death threats to Jeon's daughter-in-law. They have everyone in their pockets.”
“I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK WHO THAT BITCH HAS IN HER POCKETS. I AM NIKOLIA BULAVIA!! WHERE ARE THOSE PIMP-ASS FAMILIAS, HUH? DO THEY WANT ME TO OPEN MY MOUTH?”
The lawyer leaned closer, his voice hushed. “I'd suggest you keep your voice down and mouth shut about the Familia. They are already waiting for you to make a move so they can pull the trigger. If you want to stay alive, then stay put and mind your own business.”
Before Nikolia could unleash another tirade, the line emitted a beep, signaling the end of their call. An officer approached to escort Nikolia back to his cell, but he jerked his hand away defiantly, muttering, “I can walk on my own.”
The lawyer sighed heavily and went to sit in the waiting area. His phone suddenly rang, and his hands trembled as he glanced at the caller ID. Without wasting a second, he brought the phone to his ear.
"Yes, boss."
A deep, gravelly voice came from the other end, inquiring, "How was the meeting? How did that bastard look?"
"Very miserable, sir. He kept whining about how no one would help him, but he threatened to take the Familias down with him."
The man on the other end burst into a hearty laugh. "Let him suffer. That's what he gets when he underestimates the Knoxes. And if he makes even a slight squeak, you know what to do next, don't you?"
"Yes—yes, sir."
As the two men engaged in their conversation, a breaking news story flashed across the television screen.
"ACCORDING TO OUR WITNESSES, DURING THE PRIME MINISTER ELECTION, THE DEVELOPMENT MINISTER AND DAUGHTER-IN-LAW OF CANDIDATE LEE HYUN JOON, WIFE OF CONGRESSMAN LEE JOON SUK'S WIFE, ELEANOR LEE WHO WAS ACCOMPANYING HER FATHER-IN-LAW AND HUSBAND DURING THE RALLY WENT INTO LABOR A MONTH EARLY AND NOW HAS BEEN BLESSED WITH A BABY BOY," the news anchor reported.
The old woman nodded approvingly, her fingers interlaced in her lap. "Aigoo, such a considerate young lady," she mused.
The woman next to her, also engrossed in the broadcast, chimed in, "Their party has always been very family-oriented."
"You're right," the old woman replied, her voice filled with admiration. "They hold these values very dear. I guess he is a very promising candidate to vote for."
The two women continued to watch the news, their discussions about the Lee family, and their commitment to their political party.
.........
.........
3 Months later
The morning sun streamed into the lavish living room of your mansion, casting a warm and inviting glow. The day after Christmas had left remnants of the holiday festivities scattered all around. The majestic Christmas tree stood tall and proud, adorned with twinkling lights and ornaments, while the couch was strewn with colorful gift wrappers that had been torn apart in excitement.
You sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked beneath a cozy blanket, taking in the cheerful chaos of the room. It was around 9 am, and beside you, Noel was still engrossed in unwrapping his birthday and Christmas gifts. This year was extra special as it marked your first Christmas after getting married, and it was also your beloved son's birthday.
You had decided to host a family gathering along with some of Noel's school friends, and the festive spirit lingered. However,. Jeonghan and Victor were celebrating the holidays with Victor's family, and Rachel was settling into her role as the new COO of Fareed in Switzerland.
Surprisingly, Jungkook had also missed the gathering. He had to rush to Zurich due to an emergency meeting with a client, leaving his mother inquisitive.
Noel continued to tear through the gift wrappers with enthusiasm, his excitement evident in the smile on his face. Amidst the chaos of wrapping paper, Denny was indulging in a game of peek-a-boo, occasionally popping out from beneath the torn remnants of gift wrap.
Despite your best efforts to keep your pregnancy a secret from family and friends, your husband Wonwoo seemed to be on high alert at all times. You weren't showing yet, and your choice of loose-fitting clothing helped maintain the illusion. However, subtlety appeared to be a foreign concept to him.
Wonwoo's protective nature was on full display, as he doggedly hovered around you, rarely venturing more than a few meters away. His concern for your well-being was unwavering, and he had a tendency to ask the same questions repeatedly. Whether it was inquiring about your comfort, worrying if someone was pressuring you to do something, or making sure you weren't on your feet too much, Wonwoo's vigilance, love, and care for you were unmistakable, even if his overprotectiveness sometimes bordered on comical.
During a conversation with Sunmi and your mother, Sunmi couldn't resist making a comment. "Have you gained weight?" she inquired, her eyes traveling up and down your figure.
You took a nonchalant sip of your hot chocolate, the smell of meat and eggs making your stomach churn. Even though these foods were essential for the baby's development, they had become almost unbearable. Wonwoo had made it his daily mission to ensure you ate at least one boiled egg before he left for work.
"Maybe I haven't checked," you responded with a hint of indifference.
Sunmi let go of the subject with a simple, "Hmm." However, your mother-in-law continued to eye you for the remainder of the evening, her eyes revealing a knowing glint. It felt like she knew your secret, and you couldn't help but think of her loose-lipped palm tree wannabe son.
"I'm going to tell them next week anyway," you thought, as you and Wonwoo had already confirmed the baby's health, assuring a healthy heartbeat.
Noel was over the moon with excitement ever since you'd shared the news with him. He would often come to the master bedroom to tell stories to the baby and inquire about its current fruit size. Sometimes, he'd fall asleep on your bed while Denny, who had become his inseparable companion, would curl up by your feet.
As Wonwoo entered the living room with two cups in his hands, he handed you the decaffeinated coffee. You offered your gratitude with a mumbled "Thank you, baby," and he leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips. In a hushed tone, he whispered, "No worries, love," against your lips.
He then picked up Denny and settled down on the couch, the dog hopping from his lap to yours. Your nails naturally scratched the top of Denny's head while Noel nestled comfortably between the two of you.
"Noel, who's this from?" you asked as he was eagerly tearing into another gift.
"Nana and Pop's," he replied, his eyes filled with excitement as he managed the last rip of the wrapping paper. When he finally unveiled the gift, he exclaimed, "Cool, a hoverboard!" You and Wonwoo exchanged smiles. "Your parents will spoil him with gifts like these."
"My parents? Yours gave him a PS5 and a new tablet," you countered and smiled. When Noel asked, "Mom, can I go and try this out?" you felt a sudden shiver down your spine as if someone had paused you in the moment. "What—" you spluttered, "What did you just call me?"
"Mom," Noel looked a bit confused at your reaction. "Did you not like it? But Somi and my other friends said yesterday that since you're my godmother, I can call you 'Mom' too. I already call Dad 'Dad.' Should I not call you that?" His anxiousness peeked through his nonchalant tone.
Your eyes began to water as an overwhelming feeling washed over you. You set the cup aside and enveloped the boy in your arms. "Of course, you can, baby boy," you assured him, kissing the side of his head. "Go try the new gift." Noel eagerly unboxed the hoverboard and ran out, with Denny following closely behind. You shouted after him, "Don't forget to wear the protective gear! Mrs. Tham, please make sure he does that."
Your tearful eyes met Wonwoo's, and he approached, pulling you into his chest. "How are you feeling?" he asked, gently rubbing your arms in light traces.
"Not sure," you replied. "I feel happy as well as guilty. This was the third birthday without his parents. Every day he grows up, I'm grateful to witness it, but I feel bad that Noella and Joshua aren't able to. I hope wherever they are, they're proud of their boy. I still can't believe that he turned 8 yesterday."
Wonwoo didn't say anything, content in simply listening to you speak your heart.
He set his cup down and gently placed his hand on your now slightly protruding stomach. In the past, when you'd sleep together, his hands were wrapped around your waist or ribs. But now, he would sleep with his hand slipped under your t-shirt or nightdress, his palm resting on your stomach.
"I sometimes think about what would've happened if I'd let you walk out of the office that day," he began, his eyes slightly cloudy as he reminisced the moment.
"What do you conclude from it?" you asked.
"That I would curse myself until the day I die," he replied. He nudged you. "What about you?"
You tightened your grip around him and replied, "I don't know. I don't like to think of a future where you're not with me."
"My goodness, Mrs. Jeon, from where do you conjure these lines of flattery?" he teased. You looked up, your eyes finding his.
"A place different from where you get your corny ones," you retorted.
"Come on, they can't be that bad."
"Have you heard yourself when you speak, old man?"
"You make me sound like I'm ancient."
You just laughed and nuzzled your nose into his chest as he traced light circles on your stomach. Then, you mentioned, "Eleanor had a baby boy. People were talking about it yesterday."
"Yes, I heard. Good for her, I suppose," he replied.
"Hmm, maybe we should send them something."
"No need," he replied quickly, and you fell into a few minutes of silence. Then, you thought out loud, "Yesterday, I feel like your mother caught on to the pregnancy."
"How come? I was sure I was discreet about it." You moved out of his arms and looked at him with slightly raised brows. "Were you? Are you sure?"
"Okay, I may or may not have gone a little overboard with the concern," you confessed.
You moved closer and planted a kiss in the corner of his lips. "It's alright. We'll tell them on Saturday either way. I can't wait for the advice and Mama Bear mode overload."
Wonwoo laughed and leaned down to capture your lips in his. The pecks turned into kisses, and the kisses turned into a full-blown makeout session. Suddenly, Wonwoo got up from the couch.
"What's wrong?" you asked.
"Too many eyes," he replied, referring to the housekeeper and a staff member moving around in the kitchen, cleaning up the aftermath of yesterday's party. He then carried your bridal style to the master bedroom.
.........
.........
2 years later
Nestled in the outskirts of the city was nothing short of a luxurious paradise. It offered a 5-star experience, with its stunning landscapes that overlooked the entire city. The sprawling pool glistened under the sun, surrounded by lush greenery and pristine gardens, creating an atmosphere of opulence and relaxation.
The gathering was nothing short of grand, with everyone in attendance. The Jeon family, your own family, and all your dear friends had come together to celebrate a special occasion. Jeonghan and Victor joined the festivities, their newly adopted newborn son, Yuri, cradled in their arms.
As you looked at Noel, now a little older, you could see that he was growing more and more into his mother's features and his father's personality. His mischievous grin was reminiscent of the happiness Wonwoo had shown when the doctor revealed that you were expecting a daughter.
Iris, your little girl, was nestled comfortably in Wonwoo's arms. Her bright eyes held a sense of wonder as you held both of the children's hands. Together, you cut the ribbon to Oasis, marking the grand entrance to the celebration. The entrance was a perfect blend of grandeur and hospitality, adorned with an array of paintings representing different cultures.
As the gathering and welcoming ceremony continued inside the grand resort, you decided to take a quiet walk outside. You strolled along a serene pathway near a pond, where you noticed a duck entangled in some branches. Determined to help, you crossed a picturesque bridge and carefully reached out to free the distressed bird.
Lost, you didn't hear Wonwoo approaching. He found you engaged in a scene that felt oddly familiar – much like the first time he saw you. The duck pecked at your hand, and you assured it with a soothing voice, "Just a moment, I'm almost done." With a gentle touch, you managed to free the duck, watching it swim away to safety. As you took a step back, you collided with a sturdy chest, and when you looked up, your eyes met Wonwoo's warm gaze, accompanied by a contented smile.
"When did you get here? I didn't hear any noise," you asked, puzzled by his silent approach.
Wonwoo chuckled softly. "Well, some years ago, a little girl told me I should walk softly or else I might scare them."
Your eyes widened as he continued with a story from your past. "Then I asked her why she was helping them even if they were hurting her."
The girl, it appeared, had a wise reply. "Sometimes people who are hurt say or do harsh things because they don't know how to ask for help."
With realization dawning upon you, you gasped and covered your mouth. "You were that tall boy with the emo fringe haircut."
Wonwoo grinned and admitted, "Ouch, but yes, it was me."
The newfound knowledge left you surprised. "So the first time we met wasn't at my parents' place?"
He shook his head, confirming your suspicions. "And how long have you known this?"
"Since the moment I saw your picture on my desk," he replied, the affection in his eyes evident.
A gentle breeze ruffled your hair, and Wonwoo tucked a loose strand behind your ear. He then looked deep into your eyes and spoke from the heart, "I must have done something good in my life that lead me to you."
Moved by his words, you closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his hand on yours, and let out a contented sigh. "You know, Wonwoo, if someone were to ask me today if I would endure everything all over again if it meant it would lead me to you and our kids, I would say yes a thousand times over. Because you made me believe that maybe I can be loved too, or maybe I was born just to be loved by you."
In the grand tapestry of the universe, where the stars align in intricate patterns and destinies are etched before birth, finding meaning in life's every task may indeed seem like an exercise in futility. But perhaps, it is precisely this realization that can bring a sense of contentment and gratitude for where life has led you at this moment.
You and Wonwoo found yourselves leaning in for a passionate kiss. Lost in the tender moment, you were suddenly interrupted by a cheerful voice.
"There they are," Jungkook's fiancee exclaimed as she approached you, cradling a crying Iris in her arms.
The baby girl was frantically looking for her parents, her babbles pleading for "mama, mama."
With a loving smile, you reached out to take Iris into your arms. "What's wrong, darling ?" Your soothing presence seemed to calm her, but she then began reaching for Wonwoo and switching to his arms with a happy cry of "dada."
With a smile on his face, Wonwoo gently took her into his arms, cradling her close. "Yes, my princess, Daddy is here," he whispered as she nuzzled her head into his neck. The tenderness between them was heartwarming, and Iris continued to babble about her brother, "El no playing."
Assuring her, Wonwoo replied, "El is not playing with you." He continued, "What is he doing?"Iris reached for her headband, as if her speech delay was due to it, and took it out, blinking at you. She threw it to the ground and finally said, "El, Denny, Somi."
"Denny, El, and Somi are playing together and not playing with you," Wonwoo telepathically reasoned with his daughter she nodded at energetically at her father’s comprehensive skills. "It's alright; Dada will play with you. Let's go meet Grandpa."
As he started to walk toward the waiting family, Wonwoo turned to you with a warm smile. He extended his hand, inviting you to join him. "Come on," he said. You took his hand, and together, you walked toward the gathering of loved ones.
Jungkook was engaged in a playful game of frisbee with the kids and Denny. He noticed your approach and waved, acknowledging his fiancee before turning his attention to you and Wonwoo. As you settled down with your family, you couldn't help but look around and bask in the contented atmosphere.
Tham took Iris into her care, where Yuri was playing. Your gaze met Jeonghan's across the space, and he raised his glass with a friendly salute, and you nodded in acknowledgment. He resumed his conversation with Joon-hee and her husband, and you turned to Jungkook's fiancee, who was standing next to you.
You struck up a conversation, asking her, "So, Rach, how's life?"
............................The End..................................................
EXTRA
Noella ascended the stairs, her thoughts meandering as Joshua was away at work. Her steps were reflective of her inner contemplation. When Noella was young, she had never understood why her parents, seemingly always fighting, and her mother, who seemed to resent her father's profession, didn't just leave. It wasn't until she reached the age of 27 that it all became clear. Sometimes, when people are in love, they can become incredibly selfish. So selfish, in fact, that they'll go to any lengths to hold onto their last vestige of hope in the harsh, unrelenting reality of life. Despite her physical resemblance to her mother, at the end of the day, she was her father's daughter, through and through.
She was deep in thought, musing over her own obliviousness to your hesitations, your puffy eyes, and your quiet demeanor when she and Joshua first started dating. Did Joshua know about her feelings or the feelings she once had for him?
Noella had been out drinking with Jeonghan, who had indulged a bit too much in alcohol. In the midst of his inebriation, he confessed that you had been in love with Joshua and proceeded to shed tears for you. It felt like her illusions were crumbling, and her beliefs were disintegrating into the vast expanse of life's infinite possibilities.
She was about to reach her room when a soft, heartwarming "Mama" halted her in her tracks. Warmth enveloped Noella's heart as she bent down and scooped up her 5-year-old son, asking, "What's wrong, honey boo?"
"I can't sleep," he pouted, nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck.
She rubbed his back gently as his small hands clung to his pillow and teddy bear. She asked, "Want to sleep with Mama tonight?" To which he nodded.
Noella entered her and Joshua's bedroom and laid down next to him, "Hey, El."
"Hmm?"
"Do you ever think that if you could have any power in the world, then what would it be?"
"I would love Flash's powers; he can run super fast, you know," Noel replied with a glint of admiration in his eyes.
Noella couldn't help but chuckle at his response. "Flash's powers, huh?"
When Noel turned the question back to her, "What about Mama?"
Noella looked at her son's curious eyes and then up at the ceiling. After a moment of contemplation, she replied, "Time travel."
"Wow, that's so cool, but why that?" Noel inquired.
Noella's thoughts were already racing, formulating an answer when, in the midst of her thoughts, she added with a tinge of melancholy, "There are a lot of regrets to undo."
"But wouldn't that change the future?" Noel asked with innocence.
"Maybe," she shrugged, "maybe that's why we can't travel back in time to fix things."
Noel's eyes were heavy with sleep as slumber finally claimed him. He mumbled, "Tante says that not everything needs fixing. Sometimes time and patience are the best friends, and everything works out for the best."
"My son, when did you become so smart, huh?" Noella whispered, her fingers gently caressing his forehead. She began to sing the lullaby her mother used to sing, a soothing melody that cradled her son into a peaceful slumber.
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be
With Love,
MSH
XXX
#aquamarine#seventeen wonwoo#seventeen imagines#seventeen kpop#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#seventeen fluff#seventeen smut#seventeenscenarios#seventeen scenarios#wonwoo fic#jeon wonwoo imagines#jeon wonwoo#wonwoo seventeen#seventeen arrange marriage au#jeon wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo smut#wonwoo smut#svt x reader#svthub#Thank you for loving this fic
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