#If I am trying to complete a task and she sees me; she will take that task away from me and just do it herself [or try to]. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

livingemkayde · 7 months

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en route

joel miller x f!reader (post outbreak) | 3.5k

↳ warnings: this is rated for 18+ only! minors, please do not interact. smut, unprotected pinv, fingering f!recieving, light choking, dom!joel, a mild enemies to lovers mixed with sunshine!reader and grumpy!joel miller. no use of y/n. let me know if i forgot anything.

↳ a /n: hey guys...heres a little one shot in a followers/blog milestone celebratory fashion (!!!!!!!). this sort of turned into a one shot from the scrapped ideas regarding my new series. its also helping me gear up for taking on the task of beginning to write a new dynamic (i am definitely putting off completing chaser because i have an emotional attachment to that story BUT itll be out sometime this week). i love you all so, so, so much. you have no idea. thank you for everything (can you tell i live for a flashback fic).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize. He takes a step toward you. You take a step back. “You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.” Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you. “Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

You can’t stand him.

You really can’t stand him. Hate is a strong word. Maybe not one you use often. But the disdain you feel for Joel Miller hinges to the breaking point each time you run into him.

What a fucking asshole — you finally willed yourself to believe after weeks of kindness. It was practically seeping from your skin but it seemed to brush off his worn leather winter coat onto the fresh powder. It died there, and so did your hopeless attempts.

“Hi,” you breathed out, that first fateful time. It was a surprisingly clear winter night. He had just moved in. The women were fawning over him, ogling, jaws dropping in the town square. You just observed and tried to keep your face neutral. As neutral as you can be.

But Joel stood in front of you and just grunted in response.

It made you try harder.

“I brought these — made these for you,” you said, extending a pack of sandwiches for him and the girl you happened to see by his side. You figured she was with him. You traded a hell of a lot to get the meat for the sandwiches. But kindness and new neighbors seemed to fare well. At least in your very limited experience.

“What is this?” he questioned. He didn’t take them from your hands. His fingers—big and rough and calloused, picked at the skin of its own. He didn’t take a step outside the threshold. You were suddenly unwelcome. You felt the weight of the sandwiches grow tiresome in your outstretched arm.

“Sandwiches. Thought I’d say hello since you’re new around here,” you smiled, sort of shaking the pack, here — fucking — just take them, jesus.

But he didn’t, and your arm grew tired, and so did your smile.

“‘M good, thanks,” he mumbled in response, and shut the door in your face.

And yes, of course he was handsome. He was — rugged — and you can see the wired muscles stretch the cotton of his shirt on patrol sometimes. In those especially unfortunate circumstances where Tommy has the nerve to pair you two up together.

Handsome, yes. With a hulking bounding step over snow, and menacing shadow when he towers over you. A southern drawl—something so pitch-deep and honey-like, something you’ve never heard before. Not until you met him. And you were nursing a stupid hopeless crush over a guy you hate, but not really. And that drove you insane.

Because he was fucking, rude, yes. Definitely.

But you lost it. That last time you saw him. Because what’s worse was he wasn’t even being Joel Miller, his usually brooding self. He was being — nice? Kind? Funny? Maybe. You weren’t sure. You couldn’t hear much over the piercing ringing in your ears.

“You like this route, Joel?” you said, peering over your shoulder at him on horseback.

You tried to keep it up, the kindness, the fucking — benefit of the doubt bullshit. You really did. He seemed keen on it sometimes more often than not.

“‘S fine,” he replied back in a rumpled, annoyed way.

“You gotta see my favorite part,” you say, almost to yourself, almost forgetting about his dark drawl, only thinking about the meadow half a mile from the checkpoint.

He just snorted at that. You just tried to keep a happy face on.

The songbirds twinkled around in the surrounding trees. The winter snow was receding, making the small dribble of water a full stream. You followed it, straying slightly from the beaten path, earning a couple protesting growls from Joel, but you ignored his pleas, and surprisingly, he just followed you.

You got off your horse. Joel followed suit. You trudged across a little bend of water. He let out a scoff sounding more like a complaint each time he let one echo in the silence of the forest.

“C’mon,” you said, smiling, that time, a real smile. Maybe this would make him smile too.

You reached the crest of the small hill, hiked up your sleeves over your elbows, and bent down to touch the soft petals of the flowers beneath you.

“Look,” you said, sending him a sideways glance behind you. He was still clamoring to the top of the hill.

“Yeah, alright,” he groveled. You ignored him.

Joel joined you at your side, his chest puffing slightly out of your skewed peripheral vision.

“‘S beautiful, isn’t it?” you said to no one in particular. He didn’t respond. You didn’t expect him to.

You bend down, picking a strewn orange flower blossom from the floor. Something broken off with the wind.

“This what you do all day? Pick flowers?” he mumbled.

“Maybe,” you grinned, maybe you were finally getting him to crack, too. “And what do you do all day?”

“Not this,” he said, shaking his head.

“Really?” you said, “Enlighten me. What does Joel Miller do everyday?”

“Joel Miller minds his business,” he replied, snarky, but he smirked.

It made you a little scared, you remember. Maybe you were under some sort of falsehood that made hating Joel Miller easy. So when he actually talks to you, teases, follows you through the meadow, it seems a little intimidating suddenly.

It’s different.

It’s fucking weird.

“Which one’s your — favorite,” he whispered, gesturing out to the field in a vague sort of motion with open palms.

“Lilies,” you replied, tense. You pointed down at a brighter purple lily plant to your right. Joel’s eyes followed your hand.

You wouldn’t dare look at him, but you could feel him moving beside you. He was in front of you suddenly, his indomitable presence made you turn your head and look up at him through the sunlight.

He lifted his hand, in line with your ear. Your head backed away from it instinctually, but you kept a keen gaze on his eyes.

Your brows knit together. So did his. Your mouth parted, almost speaking into the soft mountain air. But he moved his hand again, closer to your face. And you saw a flash of something orange. Like the little flower you picked up. He brushed those big calloused fingertips on your cheek, and slipped the orange flower between hair atop your ear.

You were so confused, you didn’t know what to say. But it was bad. He was risky. You tried not to think of the fact that maybe, if he wasn’t so fucking rude, and you didn’t hate him so much, maybe that small little schoolgirl crush would blossom into something bigger.

Because that’s all it was. A small, fucking stupid crush. He teases you. Pulls at your hair. Shoves you off the monkeybars. You put on a kind face anyways.

And you hate him for that. Decidedly.

“We should go,” you whispered. He dropped his hand. You both rode back in silence.

That put you in a horrible mood for the rest of the day. And when you went to sleep and woke up this morning still in a horrible mood, you know exactly why.

Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this. He can’t make you hate him and then pull the rug out from underneath you. Especially not with something as low as putting a fucking flower behind your ear.

You show up at the patrol meeting in an equally sour mood.

And maybe, yeah, you are being irrational. But at this moment you couldn't care less.

You find the assignment board for next week and see your name card slotted under Joels.

“Perfect,” you huff, already moving quickly out of the building, saving your usual chit chatting for another time. Maybe when you’re less pissed off.

“Hey,” a voice calls after you and you know. You could pick that voice out of a hundred recordings. It pulls you back, and you fight hard to keep moving forward. You’re close to your house already so you continue walking.

He calls your name this time.

You don’t falter in your huffing steps.

“Stop,” he says, grabbing at your arm, pulling you around towards him. When he sees your face, he hesitates. Though the air seems a little humid and sticky, you wrap your arms around yourself. A shield.

“What, Joel?”

“You—left,” he breathes out, looking down to your body slightly. It’s unnerving, him making you squirm.

“Yes. I’m leaving,” you roll your eyes, turning around again, but he locks hard onto your arm and pulls you back to him.

“What’s—” you shake out of his grip, “what’re you doin’?”

“I’m going home,” you say, and then under your breath, “Obviously.”

“What’d you say?” He's a bit defensive now, maybe falling back into old habits. Back when things were so perfectly hostile between you two.

“I’m going home, Joel,” you say, annoyed. “Is that okay with you?”

He doesn’t say anything. His mouth parts in confusion. You start walking again, this time, he lets you, falling in time with your steps next to you.

“Are you alright?” he says, almost worried now. Your footsteps fall faster as you see your mailbox sneak into view.

“I thought Joel Miller minded his business,” you grumble under your breath. But loud enough for him to hear. You know it. You reach your porch, stepping onto it. The morning dew springs to life from the vibrations of your rough boot.

“So you’re gonna throw a tantrum?” he growls, following you up, reaching the first step, you, on the top one.

“Real mature,” you say, turning around, hands on hips.

“Right,” he nods and looks down to his feet, “Ignoring people is mature?”

“‘M not!” you say, looking down at him, throwing your hands out at your sides, “You’re right here talking to me!”

“Yeah ‘n I had to chase you down the fuckin’ street,” he extends one arm towards the road.

“No one asked you to,” you bite, the venom sneaking past your lips.

He doesn’t even flinch.

“You wanna play that?” he mumbles. An empty threat at best. You hope.

“No,” you say. Tears are already in your eyes. “No, I don’t wanna — fucking — do this anymore, Joel,” you whisper while unlocking the door and walking inside. It doesn’t shut behind you, not all the way. And you hear his boots follow you in.

“The hell is your problem?” his voice echoes. He follows you in your house, to the skinny hallway which leads to your room.

You spin around, pushing at his chest with a pointed finger.

“You are my fucking problem,” you affirm.

You crane your neck to look up at him. His hair is pushed back, like he just got out of the shower before attending the patrol meeting. His chest puffs in time with your rapid heartbeat.

He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t say anything.

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize.

He takes a step toward you. You take a step back.

“You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.”

Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you.

“Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

“You’re —” your breath accidentally catches in your throat. He places his palm on the cold wall next to your head, leaning down closer to you. He’s fucking intoxicating. You’re drunk off his lowbrow and the curls that form at the base of his neck. What you wouldn't give to run your fingers through them right now—

“C’mon,” he chastises. His mouth is so close to yours, you keep switching between his eyes and his lips.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumble.

“Yeah?” you nod. “You already said that, baby.”

Baby.

“Don’t stop,” his lips get closer to yours, “What else?”

“You’re…” you look at his lips. He gets so close that his chest brushes up against yours. “You’re mean…and you’re arrogant.”

You find it in you to put your open palms gently on his chest. You don’t find it in you to push him back. It’s not like you want to push him back though, not when all you need is to bring him closer. His breath punches gently on top of your nose.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he grumbles, you shudder. He snakes his head down to whisper in your ear. His beard brushes the delicate skin on your neck.

“I think,” his lips brush over the spot right under your ear. You breathe so hard you might get light headed. “You’re a pain in my ass,” the hand on the wall catches on your waist. You squirm against his body.

“With your distractions, and your sandwiches, and your little flowers,” he’s so close, he’s almost kissing you. He slots his thigh between yours.

“Shut up,” you say, because that’s all you can say right now. The dark hallway encases him in the shadows. Even when he picks his head back up and looks into your eyes.

“Careful,” he warns.

You stay there, silence filling the air. Your shoulder blades dig into the wall there.

“You need to learn some manners,” he mumbles, shaking his head, looking down at your lips.

“I have manners,” you breathe, admittedly a little shaky, “just not for — fucking —”

“Not for what?” He smirks.

“Not for you,” you push against his chest again. He doesn’t flinch.

“Yeah?” something in his tone makes you fight harder, “You gonna be a bad girl?”

“Shut up,” you say, because you don’t trust yourself. You brace yourself against the wall in a desperate attempt not to whine. He’s making you slip. You silently chastise yourself. What happened to ‘Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this’?

You suppose all rational thought flies out the window when his roughed hands land on you.

“You can be a bad girl,” he said, pushing his fingers under your shirt. They’re surprisingly warm. You fight the urge to groan. Your eyes flicker down to your bodies touching and drag them back to his eyes. “I’ll teach you how to be a good girl, too.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, half under your breath. Joel’s eyes dance with yours, flickering from your lips to your left eye, to your right. Your nose, your eyebrows. Then back down to your parted mouth. You’re fighting a losing battle, you both are. You had no chance of winning it. Not even in the slightest, not at all. And you both know it.

So, fuck.

You kiss him. You learn forward, as much as the space between you will allow, and kiss him. He smells like pinewood, and fresh soap, and something smokey. He almost tastes sweet. His fingers splay across your waist. You feel the tips of them dig in there. You fight the urge to groan when you shift on top of his thigh slotted between your legs.

He hauls you into your bedroom, you sink down on the bed. He takes off his flannel. He’s slow, in his movements, almost like he’s teasing you.

Punishing you.

“Joel,” you say. You hate how you sound so whiny, so desperate. But after all, maybe you are desperate for him.

“Sit back,” is all he says, in that honeyed drawl.

You do.

Joel stands in front of your slightly open legs, playing with the hem of your shirt in his fingers.

Contemplating.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he mumbles, his eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t look at you, just raises your shirt up slightly.

And you know what? You don’t have an explanation for it. But you just say it—

“Yes,” while looking up at him. The salt and pepper on his patchy beard. His hardened brow and quirked lip. His fingers drift from the hem of your shirt up, up, up. Until his thumb grazes your nipple and you moan at the feeling.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, his thumb playing at your chin, your bottom lip. Your hands dig into the comforter at his words. Your bottom jaw slowly falls under the weight of his singular thumb.

He pushes in, tugging your mouth open. You suck his finger obediently.

“‘S good—baby,” he whispers so low under his breath you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

You look up at him through your lashes, he pushes you back with his hand in your mouth until you’re laying flat on the bed.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, pulling back his hand. While he shucks off his shirt, you undress frantically.

You snap your legs shut when your panties are finally off. The cold air bites at your ankles.

He nudges them apart until he’s slotted in between your open thighs. Your cunt stares back at him, glistening.

He runs his hands along your frame, kneading at the skin on your thighs. His fingers, big and rough and calloused—but it feels fucking good.

“Fuck—” you puff out, reaching for him, “I—”

He puts his finger up to his lips. Quiet. He says.

You listen.

“Just let me—” he says, drifting off when his fingers brush over your cunt. “Jesus—baby,” he mumbles, running his thumb through your slick. You moan and whine against his hand.

“Joel,” you say again. Pleading.

“I know,” he is all he says before twisting his hand and slipping a thick finger into your cunt. You gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and at the cotton beneath you. His free hand comes up near your neck, resting there. Not really doing anything.

“You’re loud,” he points out, pumping out, adding a second because you’re so wet. You moan, gasp, whimper.

“’N you never fuckin’ listen.” he mumbles, looking at his fingers pumping out of you.

“I do—”

He shuts you up with a strong hand wrapping around your neck. Not enough pressure to really do anything, but enough pressure to cut your words short halfway garbled into an excuse.

“Is that what you needed?” he groans, straining against his boxers, rutting up against your thigh. “Needed someone to tell you what to do?”

You’re close. You moan. He thumbs at your clit. You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering into his ear. His hand finds yours, pinning it back to the gray cotton there.

“You needed me, baby?” he drawls.

Just when you’re about to come, he stops. Your eyes widen, he’s breathing heavily, his fingers are statues deep inside you.

“Joel—just, fucking—” you whine. He starts pulling his fingers out, receding away from you. “No—fuck, please, I—please,” you reach for him.

He looks at you. You whimper.

“I—fuck—I needed you,” you whisper. And you think to yourself that it’s true. “I need—you.”

His face goes soft.

“Okay,” Joel breathes, pulling out, but reaching down to take himself out of his boxers. Your legs part silently. “Fuck, angel. Okay.”

He guides himself through your folds, you squirm underneath him. He mumbles something into your ear but you can’t focus on anything besides he dull stretch when he pushes past your walls. He’s stretching you out already, just the tip. But the pain feels surprisingly good.

“God, Joel,” you whine. He goes slow. Excruciatingly slow.

“You—” he eases into you. He groans against your hair. “You’re — fuck.”

“Shit,” you curse out, he slips into you all the way, until his hips are flush with you. “Shit—you feel f-fucking good.”

He stays like that for a bit, letting you mold around him. He pants into your ear. You scratch designs into his back. Memorabilia for when he returns back to his house and gets a good look in the mirror. You grasp at the curls at the nape of his neck. They’re soft. Just like you thought they might’ve been.

He pulls out—almost all the way. And then thrusts back in. You both gasp into each other’s mouths.

“Goddamn — tight, fuck,” he says, finding a pace that elicites the most unintelligible moans from you and sets it. He’s rough—but not too rough. And he’s hitting that spot that inches you further to a pulling blinding light.

“Good, fucking girl—” he moans, he holds himself up above you with a strong hand next to your head. “You’re doin’ so—fuck—so good, pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the pretty girl. Or his praise, or his cock punching deep inside you, so deep that you can feel him in your fucking stomach, but you get closer. Tighter around him. He can feel it too.

“Joel—gonna—ngh—” you whimper. He hikes your leg over his hip, hitting something deeper.

“C’mon, angel,” he groans, “lemme — ah — lemme f-feel you.”

He drags it out of you, your muscles pull taut and your vision pulls white and he keeps going through it all. You moan, whimper, maybe even yell. But he keeps up his relentless pace. You dig your fingers in his back, marking him with little crescents to go with all the rest of them.

“Fuck—fuck,” he pants, his hips stuttering while you clench around him.

He thrusts into you, one, two, three more times, your aftershocks sending towards his release.

He lets out a broken groan spilling into you, rocking his hips with each pulse of his cock. “Shit,” he says, gripping your waist, “You — jesus, fuck.”

Joel collapses down next to you. He cleans you up, too. You both drift off to sleep. He kisses your forehead in between a floating, dreamless slumber.

Somewhere between then and dinner he leaves, mumbling in your ear. You’re too tired to wake up and walk him to the door. And when you wake up, and make your way downstairs you spot it, sitting pretty on your front porch through the glass.

A little makeshift bouquet, with fraying string wrapped around two stems.

Lilies.

1K notes · View notes

tobesolonely · 6 months

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A/N: this is the first thing I've written in like 8 months and it's basically just smut...I was inspired...18+ please lol (this isn't proofread and maybe it should be hahahah)

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“It’s like ripping off a bandaid, love. Just go for it.”

Harry and Y/N were situated in the bathroom, Harry sitting on a small stool facing the mirror with Y/N behind him. She had a pair of hair-cutting scissors in one hand and clippers in the other. He was really doing this.

“You know if you’re bald, you can’t steal my hair clips anymore, right?”

He gives her a faint smirk. “That crossed my mind.”

“No more running your hands through it.”

“Are you upset about that, or am I?”

“This is drastic!”

Harry meets Y/N’s gaze in the mirror before turning around to face her. “Darling, it’s just hair. It’ll grow back. Please help me cut it before I lose my nerve.”

So Y/N ends up with scissors to her boyfriend’s luscious, signature curly locks. Each strand of hair that falls on the ground nearly causes her to flinch, and out of her peripherals, she can see Harry watching her every move.

“Just trying to be careful to make sure it looks good…the whole point of me cutting it is to avoid you going to the shop, yeah?”

Harry reaches behind him at this, slightly squeezing her thigh in confirmation. “I know, love. I didn’t say anything. I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Y/N asks him at least two more times if he is sure before taking the clippers to his head, but when Harry gives her a firm nod telling her to proceed, she tries to remind herself to breathe as she shaves the first section. Harry shivers at the sensation of his hair hitting his bare back and shoulders.

“‘S a good thing I got the head shape for going bald, huh?”

“Well…”

”Y/N! You’re gonna make me second guess-”

“I’m kidding, H! I think you’ve got a lovely head shape for going bald,” Y/N positions herself in front of him so she can better see what she’s doing at the front of his head, near his hairline. “Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair shorter than when you cut it for Dunkirk.”

“Remember when I picked you up one day without mentioning it because I thought it would be a fun surprise?”

Y/N pauses her movements, playfully glaring at him. “I think I’d mistake you for an intruder or something if you came through the door completely bald with no warning.”

“Isn’t it nice that I asked you to do it for me this time instead of just shocking you?”

Y/N hums at this, and the couple falls into a comfortable silence as she continues to cut his hair. Harry fiddles with his hands in his lap and reaches behind him occasionally to stroke Y/N’s thigh, but nothing is said between the two.

Harry’s the first to break their cozy silence. “Woah…my hair.”

“I know.”

He turns around on the stool, looking up slightly to make direct eye contact with her. “You like it, though?”

“It’ll grow on me.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m kidding, H.”

He turns back to the mirror, inspecting his reflection. “Tell me you like it, babe. Even if you don’t.”

Y/N lets out a small giggle at her boyfriend’s fishing for a compliment. “You look handsome. It’ll take some getting used to, but…I do like it.”

Harry makes a slight, triumphant noise before letting Y/N resume the task at hand. She splashes lukewarm water on the top of his head and gently pats it dry with a hand towel before finishing off with his favorite aftershave.

“Good?”

Harry leans in close to the mirror and turns his head from side to side, carefully inspecting his new look. After a few moments, he nods, turning back to Y/N and leaning in to kiss her.

“It’ll take some getting used to on my end, too, but I think I like it.”

“They say that after you shave your head, your hair comes back healthier and stronger than ever.”

“So we’re shaving yours next, then?”

Y/N playfully swats her boyfriend, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, no.”

Harry shrugs. “Let me know if you change your mind, darling.”

He exits the bathroom, searching for the broom and dustpan to get up his hair while Y/N goes downstairs to begin dinner. He joins her soon after, wordlessly telling her to sit down and relax when he picks up the knife she just set down to stir the pot of sauce she had bubbling on the stove. In front of her sits a cutting board with an onion, garlic, and different colored bell peppers. Y/N hated cutting those vegetables because she didn’t like how hard the smell was to get off her hands, so he knew she was leaving that task for last in hopes that he would do it (he did, of course).

“I hate chopping vegetables.”

“I know, love.”

Harry reaches up to run his hands through his curls out of force of habit and abruptly stops when he realizes there is no longer anything to actually run his hands through. He turns to take a quick peek at Y/N to see if she saw him. She did.

“I knew that would happen!” She exclaims with a laugh. “I just didn’t think it would happen less than an hour after cutting your hair.”

“It’s an adjustment period!” Harry responds with mock defensiveness, joining Y/N in her glee. Even if she was laughing at him instead of with him, he still felt all warm inside because at least he was the reason for her laughter.

“I can’t wait for our friends to see–what do you think Mitch is gonna say?”

Harry spins around, and yanks opens the cabinet in search of one of the many boxes of pasta they always had on hand. “Penne or bowtie?”

“Bowtie,” Y/N gets up from her seat at the kitchen island to fill their big pot with water to boil the noodles. “I bet he’ll be shocked, especially because his hair is so long. Do you think he would ever cut his hair?”

Harry smiles at his girlfriend’s chattiness. “I think he’ll make fun of me a bit - maybe call me an egghead or something to that degree. He’ll like it, though.”

“What do you think the fans will say?”

Harry lets out a huff of air. “Oh, they’ll have the most to say. It’ll grow on them, I’m sure.”

“I can’t wait to see all the discourse on Twitter.”

“Only send me funny Tweets.”

Y/N hums in confirmation and goes back to her seat at the table after putting the water on to boil. “You know what I’ll miss the most about your hair?”

“What’s that?” Harry asks his question absentmindedly as he putters around the kitchen, retrieving plates and two wine glasses. “Wine?”

“Yes, please,” Y/N pauses. “Gonna miss having something to tug on during sex.”

Harry pauses his movements at this, his full attention now on his girlfriend. “Oh, yeah?”

She nods.

“You can still grab on me.”

“Not your hair, though.”

“You can leave me scratches. Will that suffice until my hair grows back?”

Y/N pretends to be deep in thought at this, which causes Harry to laugh loudly. She answers after a few moments. “I suppose that’ll work…”

“Y’know how much I love when you mark up my back,” Harry uncorks a bottle of wine and pours them each a small glass. “Now, there will be no excuses not to.” He walks over to Y/N, carefully handing her her own glass of wine before taking a sip of his. She then takes a sip, puckering her face at the slightly bitter taste.

The conversation is forgotten until the couple is in their room after dinner, bellies full of pasta and tongues stained slightly purple from their red wine.

“Is that really what you’ll miss most about my hair?”

“Hmm?” Y/N hums in response for Harry to continue, distracted at her vanity with her (overly) extensive skincare routine.

“Pullin’ on it during sex.”

Y/N looks at him through her reflection in the mirror. “I mean, maybe not literally the most, but it’s up there. Gonna take some getting used to, that’s all.”

“Maybe we should have sex now so you can start gettin’ used to it.” Harry has a sly look, eyelids slightly drooping from his arousal and the wine he consumed at dinner. Y/N throws her head back in laughter.

“You know you can just straight up ask for it, yeah?” She caps the last of her serums and turns around to face her boyfriend, stalking toward the bed as she continues talking. “I’m never not gonna want you to give it to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry now has a shit-eating grin on his face. “Gonna mark my back all up? Remind me who I belong to whenever I get in the shower?” There was nothing he reveled in more than the burning sensation of hot water hitting his freshly scratched back after a particularly rough session with his girlfriend.

Y/N nods in response as she drops a knee onto the bed, plopping down in front of her boyfriend. Harry smirks at how she’s already been rendered wordless, situating himself on his knees as she pushes her onto her back. “But first…”

He places his hands on either side and immediately dives in, licking a broad stripe up her pussy. Harry quietly moans in pleasure when Y/N lets out a choked gasp, hands immediately reaching out to grab his head.

“Oh, fuck…,” she groans, throwing her head back in pleasure. “Just like that, H.”

He moves his attention to her swollen clit, flicking it quickly in between his tongue. “Like this?”

Y/N sucks in a particularly sharp breath when Harry speeds up his movements, eyes smug at the fact he already had Y/N’s thighs quivering when he hadn’t even been between them for a full minute yet.

“Harry, please…”

He lifts his head momentarily to answer her, lips glistening with a combination of his saliva and her arousal. “Please what, darling?”

Y/N balls-up the fist resting on Harry’s head out of force of habit, letting out a frustrated whine when she’s met with nothing. He chuckles at this and simply reaches up, moving her hand in the direction of his back. Her nails reflexively dig into his back when he resumes his menstruation on her pussy.

His tongue begins moving impossibly faster, wanting to get her there now. He knew she needed this orgasm just as badly as he needed to give it to her. Harry lets out a sharp hiss when he feels her nails drag down the expanse of his back, her moans increasing in frequency and volume. She was close. He removes his tongue from her clit, replacing his mouth with his fingers.

“There you go, angel,” he reaches up to grab her chin with his free hand to force her to look down at him, not up at the ceiling. “Open your eyes and look at me when I’m making you feel this good.”

Y/N forces her eyes open to look at her boyfriend’s. She watches as he thumbs impossibly fast over her swollen bud, murmuring praises and sweet words about how she’s so beautiful and always gets so wet so fast for him. It doesn’t take much longer before Y/N is throwing her head back with a cry, nails digging into Harry’s back and dragging down as she cums. All she sees is flashes of white, hears ringing in her ears and she thinks it might be the best orgasm she’s had all week. Harry sucks her clit through the entirety of her orgasm, wanting to milk her pleasure for as long as humanly possible. He can feel his back beginning to sting and he wonders if Y/N scratched hard enough to draw blood. He hoped so.

“No more…,” she mumbles quietly, pushing her boyfriend’s mouth away from her most sensitive area. “Shit.”

“All good?” He messily wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning down to give her a chaste kiss. “Still missing the hair?”

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

thanks for reading! lmk what you thought!

#harry styles #harry #harry smut #harry fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut

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luv-gin · 9 months

Text

you’re stopped from completing your task by a young boy with dark hair and wide glassy eyes desperately seeking your attention as he taps on your arm repeatedly.

“miss,” he calls, panic evident in the tone of his voice as he addresses you “can you please help me and my sister?”

you crouch before the boy as you place a soft smile on your face to ease his worry “sure thing kiddo, what’s the problem?”

“there’s this weird guy in glasses who keeps trying to take me and my sister away for ice cream,” his lip wobbles slightly as he continues “my parents told me to not go away with strange adults, please help us.”

now worry quickly fills you and your head turns to see if you can locate a manager near by but you remain calm as you take his hand in yours “can you show me where your sister is? i’ll make sure to keep you safe and find your parents, okay?”

the boy tears up and nods only to point at the guy with white hair adorning glasses and laughing along with a younger girl as they hop around on a trampoline, you turn to the kid clutching your hand and ask him “you’re sure you don’t know this guy?” he cries in response and you panic slightly, patting his shoulders before clearing your throat.

“excuse me sir, i’m going to have to ask you leave.”

the guy turns out to be similar in age to yourself and your expression morphs into one of disgust as you think about how vile he must be trying to leave with some children.

"huh?" he voices his confusion as he stops jumping and peers down at you with the little boy clutching onto your hand "what's wrong megumi?"

the boy whimpers as he stands behind you and you instinctively extend your arms to cover him as you glare at the white haired man who's approaching you "sir, i am asking you to leave before i'm forced to call the cops." you grit your teeth and gojo's expression falls and the young girl he was accompanying joins your little group.

"megumi!" she gasps and places her hands on her hips "you can't keep doing this." she scolds with a finger wagging at the boy who's stepped out from behind you, tears long gone and donning a deadpan expression.

"i was close, tsumiki." he pouts and the girl in turn grabs his cheeks in a pinch and you look at the two kids in confusion before feeling a tap on your shoulder and you look up to see the not harasser-harasser smiling down at you.

"hi, sorry about the scare, i'm their guardian and the kiddo loves playing pranks like that." he apologises with a carefree expression and your face slacks.

"you're their guardian?? aren't you my age??" you ask and he laughs merrily as he waves his hand.

"don't worry your pretty little head about it, it's a long story." just as your neck begins to heat up you're poked once more by the kids and watch as tsumiki forces her younger brother to apologise for bothering you and spreading false information about his legal guardian who is putting a lot of effort and time into raising them- you doubt those words were truly coming from either of the kids.

"it's fine," you sigh and crouch in front of megumi one more time "just maybe think of pranking him another way like putting dye in his shampoo or something like that instead of potentially needing to have someone bail him out of jail."

"oh, that's actually happened once before-" the "adult" adds in with a snicker and you shake your head.

"good luck." you tap the kids on their shoulders.

#gojo scenario #gojo oneshot #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #gojo satoru blurb

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moon-rivr · 4 months

Note

I need a fic about Miguel lusting after nurse fem!reader! I imagine he got hurt around her apartment and being that he is Spider-Man and she is a nurse she decides to take him into her apartment and fix him up. She is so caring and kind to he and this starts to become a thing where spider-man gets her to heal him.

So Miguel never reveals his identity to her but he’s like falling hard for her. Like thinking about her all the time (especially when he is in the shower lol). Let’s say one day he’s feeling like a little under the weather so he decides to go to where she works to get a check up and medicine (and hopefully to see her outside of his costume for once) so when he finally sees her he’s trying to charm her flirt a bit like he does when he’s behind the mask, but she is not having it. She acts cold and disinterested because one, guys flirt with nurses all the time and two, she has feelings for spider-man. Then you can do what you want with the ending but I would like if they get together in the end maybe you can squeeze some NSFW in there. Honestly this might make a pretty cute series!

little nurse

pairing: miguel o’hara x nurse fem reader

contents: mentions of blood/injuries and masturbation (m)

author’s note: decided to split this up into two parts, i hope you don’t mind :) very limited medical knowledge btw (one szn of grey’s anatomy and dr mike accounting for that 😖)

word count: 4.1K

Miguel O'Hara appeared in your life out of thin air. Literally.

You were trudging home from work around eleven at night, your scrubs smelling like disinfectant and dark circles adorning your under eyes. You'd been looking forward to taking a shower and getting as much sleep as you could before your next shift, your plans completely shifting when someone dropped in front of you. A masked man landed in front of you, clad in a Spider-Man costume. The sleep that you were longing for quickly faded away, replaced by a feeling of concern as you kneeled over to see if he had fractured his spine or his head with the fall. "How many fingers am I holding up?" You asked, holding up three as you waited for some kind of assurance that he was awake.

After receiving no response from the man, you dragged him into your apartment to work on him inside. You were grateful to whatever entity there was above that you lived in a downstairs apartment, the task of taking the man inside proving more difficult than you'd originally thought. You let out a small huff as you dragged him onto the rug in the center of your living room, shutting the door afterwards. You looked down at the man, almost tempted to take off the mask and reveal who was underneath the Spider-Man mask. After more careful consideration, you decided that it probably wasn't the best idea while he was in such a vulnerable position and grabbed your phone from your purse.

You'd gotten some old blouses that you were planning on throwing away, using them as a tourniquet around his stomach to stop the bleeding. You pressed two fingers to his neck to try to feel for a pulse, a bit slow but at a steady rhythm. After making sure his heartbeat was stable, you pressed your head down to your chest to listen for his breathing, the sound coming out ragged. "Stay with me, please," you silently whispered as your bloody fingers typed away at your phone screen, opening up the phone app. You'd finished up typing up the final one of the emergency number, a large gloved hand stopping you from answering the dispatcher on the other line.

"No, no. Please don't do that," the masked man underneath you pleaded as he slowly started to regain consciousness. You were made aware that not only would he run the risk of getting his identity exposed, but he'd also run the risk of having the nypd arrest him for the crimes he's committed as a vigilante. "Now do you understand why I can't go to the hospital?" He asked, almost like he wanted to make sure what stood at stake for him. "Okay, I'll trust you for now. But if you start bleeding out in my living room, then I'll take you to the hospital. Does that sound good?" You answered reluctantly, watching as he nodded.

You grabbed some gloves from one of your kitchen drawers, kneeling down next to him as you reached for the zipper on the back. "Do you mind if I take this off?" You asked, wanting to get his approval before you got started on anything. "Whatever you need to do to me, doc," he answered, sitting a bit up so you could reach the zipper better. You zipped down his suit, pulling it off his arms and sliding it down to his stomach. "How's your head? You hit it pretty hard when you fell," you asked him, wanting to get a better assessment of how his health was. You felt around his stomach, trying to find if there was any internal bleeding but you knew that the results would be more accurate with a CT scan.

"My head's fine, just a bit of blindness in my right eye," he deadpanned, your eyebrows practically shooting up to your hairline as you turned to look at him. "I'm joking, doc. I'm all good," he added, a small chuckle following after. "I'd smack you if your ribs weren't probably broken right now," you muttered, getting up from the floor to grab a suture kit from your bedroom. Only the sounds of his breathing could be heard as you worked on the large gashes covering most of his abdominal region, steady fingers working the needle through the thread to stop any further bleeding. You wiped away at some of the dried blood, cleaning him up to the best of your ability before pressing your hands down on his stomach to see if he had any further pain.

"I don't have any strong meds at my house, I only have Tylenol so I hope that works for you," you announced as you looked over at your medicine cabinet, surprisingly empty for the line of work that you'd chosen. "Give me the prognosis, doc. How long do I have to live?" he asked as you handed him the bottle of pills with a glass of a water. "I'm not a doctor, just a nurse. And I'd say a couple more minutes, if you're lucky. Might last longer if you don't annoy me as much," you teased him back, grabbing a couple bandages to finish up with the job. You wrapped them around the places where you placed the stitches, making him a little first aid kit just in case he'd need it. "If your stitches pop out or anything, just come back here. You know where I live."

He pulled the zipper back on, grabbing the first aid kit from you before he headed towards the door. "I'll see you next time I get hurt, little nurse," he told you, making it seem more like a promise than a goodbye. "Try not to make this a daily thing, please," you responded before he had the chance to leave, the eyes of his mask slightly raising. "I can't make any promises, lindura," he swung away after he finished speaking, sticking to the building in front of your apartment complex. You couldn't help but look out at him as he left, watching the way that he maneuvered the webs to the best of his ability despite the injuries that he'd sustained.

Miguel continued to seek you out as his nurse every time that he got hurt after that, enjoying the small banter and jokes between the two of you. Getting to be around you once more felt like the highlight of every fight that he got into, the assurance that you would be there to patch him up giving him the motivation that he needed to get up and fight crime. Despite the small jabs that you took at him, you proved to care about him time and time again with each wound that you treated. You never asked him any questions about his identity, never made him out to be anything bigger than what he had to be. Despite the fact that he wore the mask around you, he'd never felt more exposed around a human being in his life before.

Miguel found himself to be distracted by the thought of just seeing you again, constantly. He found himself wanting to get hurt just so he'd have an excuse to need your assistance, to have your soft hands running across his flesh as you stitched him up. His attention wasn't diverted only when he was dressed up as Spider-Man, the affection that he held towards you following him all the way to the lab he worked at. He'd mixed up two chemicals that he shouldn't have, causing a negative reaction in one of the rats that he was testing on and having to discard his experiment completely. "Focus, O'Hara. We're not here to pick up after your messes," his co-worker and superior, Aaron Delgato, told him during lunchtime with that same stupid smug expression he always carried on his face.

Normally, Miguel would've had something to respond back with but he couldn't find it in him to care that much at the moment. "Yeah, yeah," he ended up muttering back, pushing away his concerns as he sipped at the bitter coffee from the cafeteria. Normally the bitter taste of the coffee would've made him spit out the substance, the taste becoming slightly better when you were at the forefront of his mind. Instead of throwing it away after the first sip, he ended up taking a couple more sips before throwing it away in the sink. He spent the day at work focusing on his reports, having to stay a bit later to make up for the work that he'd messed up earlier just so he wouldn't have to deal with Aaron's condescending comments and stupid smirk as he questioned Miguel's ability to work the job he did.

He got home at around 6:30, two hours after his shift ended. The sound of door closing echoed throughout the empty halls of his home, the environment completely devoid of anything homely apart from a couple pictures and a bookshelf full of scientific journals that he'd enjoyed. He stripped away from his clothes once he got into his bedroom, wanting to remove himself from the lab as much as possible. He got into the shower before he had to head out for his vigilante duties, knowing that he knew would be too tired to do so when he got back home. The cold stream of water hit his muscles as he stood underneath, putting his forehead against the cold tiles of the wall. He felt depraved as he thought about you while he stood here, feeling himself grow more and more ashamed as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand around his cock.

Eventually, he ended up giving into his desires and wrapped his fingers tightly around his cock. He closed his eyes to help him envision a scenario with you, his mind running through with images of you underneath him. His grip on his cock tightened, wanting to replicate the feeling of what your cunt would feel like. He smeared some of the precum leaking out of his tip all around his shaft with his thumb, letting out a small hiss as he felt himself growing more aroused with every second that passed. He started off slow, wanting to prolong this orgasm as much as possible.

He pictured you starting off by sticking your tongue out for him as you sat on your knees underneath him, doe eyes looking at him expectantly as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Your mouth would engulf around the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it to capture every drop of precum that leaked out. His thumb ran around his tip to simulate every aspect of his scenario, precum sticking to his fingers as he did. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful you would look as you struggled to adjust to the feeling of his cock around your mouth, tears threatening to leak through as you fought off the urge to gag. "Oh shock, keep going," he moaned out, almost feeling like you were in the room with him.

His hand moved faster around his cock, fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft as he tried to get himself off. His eyes remained closed as the cold water ran through his body, his mind still continuing with the scenario from earlier. He felt his cock twitch in his hand, picturing how you would look with ropes of cum splattered onto your face. His release was more uneventful than he'd expected it to be, hit with the clarity of the situation immediately as the water washed the sticky substance from his hands. His forehead remained pressed against the shower wall, wanting to eliminate every negative thought that he'd been presented with. He felt perverted for taking advantage of you in this way, of taking advantage of the way that you were just so ready to help him out, but he couldn't help but feel his desire for you grow even more with every smile that you gave him.

He got out of the shower a couple minutes later, taking a few moments to reflect on what he'd done before finishing up with the rest of his shower routine. "Did you finish making the final adjustments to my suit?" He asked as his hologram assistant appeared next to him, a towel wrapped around his waist as he walked to the closet. "I did. You should find the material to be a bit more durable than the one that you previously used. Though the news reports show that it's going to be close to freezing so I would recommend for you to stay home," LYLA responded, before giving him the detailed report of what she'd done to his suit. "Crime doesn't stop just because it's a little cold. I'm sure I'll be fine," he muttered, grabbing the suit hanging up on the back of his closet.

Miguel shivered as he sat on top of a rooftop, overlooking the city as he waited for something to happen. He would have to make a mental note to add some insulation to the redesign of his suit, finding every minute outside to be excruciating. He removed the bottom part of his mask, blowing onto his bare hands as he rubbed them together. His feet swung on the edge of the building, ears perked up as he tried to listen in on conversations to discern whether anybody actually needed his help tonight. He was about to leave for the night around 30 minutes later, his plans getting stopped when he heard a lady scream across the street.

Miguel handed the purse back to the lady who was getting robbed, fighting the thugs that had tried to rob her proving to be the most exciting thing that happened all night. "Thank you Spider-Man!" The woman called out as he swung away, receiving a curt nod in response before he swung away. He ended up having to fight a couple low-grade robbers and car-jackers, nothing too big for the night. He got back home after finishing up the mundane tasks, feeling himself shivering even as he was welcomed by the warmth of the fireplace in his living room. LYLA had already started with her remarks about how he probably ended doing himself more harm than good, getting shut off two minutes into her monologue. He stripped off his clothing, sitting down on his couch with his legs spread out as he tried to warm up.

Miguel let out a groggy moan as he got up to the sound of his alarm, rubbing his hand across his temples as he laid on the couch. He could hardly get up to go to the bathroom, finding himself unable to head into work today. "I need to call in sick today," Miguel mumbled into the phone, knowing that Aaron was probably rejoicing at his weakened state. "You already messed up the experiment and now you want to take the day off? You're really slacking here, O’Hara," aaron remarked with a small 'tsk', speaking just loud enough for anyone to be able to overhear their conversation. "I don’t see why I have to explain myself to you but I'm sick. The experiment's gonna end even more messed up if I do end up showing up," Miguel answered, a small cough coming out of his end almost on cue.

After getting the reluctant approval of Aaron to stay home, miguel made his way to his bedroom and snuggled underneath his blanket. "LYLA, set up an appointment for me tomorrow at the medical center downtown please," he asked his ai assistant, his words coming out raspy and hoarse. "Why would you want me to do that? I can give you a full health assessment and recommend the right types of medicine that you need, Way better than a doctor ever could," she responded, appearing next to him with a face mask and little nurse hat on. "If I wanted you to do that, I would've asked. Just set me the appointment please," he mumbled, reaching over on his bed stand to get a tissue. LYLA was about to protest once more, but decided to go ahead and do the task when she heard Miguel coughing once more.

Miguel spent most of the day in bed, sweating underneath his tiger blanket despite the fact that he felt himself shivering. He found out the hard way that Vaporub did not in fact cure every one of his aches, though his nose wasn't too stuffed up after using it. He got up around 6 pm when he felt his stomach grumble, walking over to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. He turned on the afternoon news, wanting to make sure there wasn't anything too bad threatening the city. He saw that there had been a couple reports of robberies around the city, leaving it up to the police since he wasn't sure how useful he would be with his nose running every minute. He turned off the tv and poured the chicken soup that had been brewing on the oven into plate, sitting down at the dinner table to have something to eat. All he could do for now was simply wait for what the doctor would prescribe him, a part of him hoping that he would be able to see you.

"Miguel O'Hara?" You called out, looking around the sickly people in the waiting room before a tall man stood up. "That's me," he responded, his sinuses clearly stuffed up as he spoke. You led him back into the rooms, walking to the treatment rooms as you looked through the clipboard. "It's been a while since you've been here so i'm gonna go ahead and update your medical file," you informed him, looking back at him as he nodded. You led him to a wall with a measure taped on it, grabbing a pen from one of the pockets of your scrubs. You were about to take his height, noticing that his figure loomed over the measure. Your eyes widened slightly, your mind rubbing through what you could possibly do.

You grabbed an extra measure from a drawer, grabbing a chair nearby before getting up on it to tape it up on the wall. "You could've asked me to do that, y'know? I wouldn't have minded doing a favor for such a pretty nurse," he mused as he looked up at you, his lips immediately pursing together at the dirty look that you shot him. You got off from the chair, looking up at the two measures taped together before counting the extra inches. "Alright, 6'9," you muttered to yourself, writing it down on the clipboard before motioning for him to step on the electronic scale next to the side. You took his weight after the machine stopped counting, writing down the results before leading him to his assigned treatment room.

You washed your hands at the sink, putting on a bit of hand sanitizer before putting on a pair of gloves. "What seems to be the problem?" You asked, wanting to get a synopsis of what he thought was wrong before you made any guesses. "The problem is that you haven't accepted a dinner invitation with me. I'm sure my cold would heal a lot faster if you did, just saying. Trust me, I'm also a doctor," he mused, relishing as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. While you'd had your fair share of patients flirt with you, having to deal with their advances tested your patience bit by bit. The man in front of you wasn't exactly unattractive, but he didn't make you feel the same excitement that you felt every time that you saw Spider-Man. You folded your arms and looked at him, staying silent until he decided to divulge what had been bothering him.

"My nose's stuffed up, my chest feels like it's full of phloem, and I can't stop coughing up a lung," he responded, allowing you to get a glimpse of what was really bothering him. "It sounds like you just have a cold but I'll get your blood work done just to make sure that I get an accurate result," you told him, grabbing a small needle to prick him. Before he got the chance to tell you that the blood work wouldn't reveal much, you'd already collected the blood in a small tube. "The doctor will be right with you, Mr. O’Hara," he'd heard you say before the door closed, leaving him alone with the knowledge that you didn't feel the same way about him while he was unmasked.

The doctor came in and did what they were supposed to, taking his heartbeat and his temperature. "It seems like you just have a cold, Mr. O’Hara. Take some time to rest at home and don't overexert your body," the doctor had warned him, handing him a small paper with a prescription for what seemed to be cough syrup on it. He took the paper from the doctor, looking over at you with a small smile as you stepped into the room. The doctor handed the chart over to you, giving you a shortened explanation of what the diagnosis had been. You read over his chart, reaffirming what the doctor had already said before you dismissed him.

"I forgot to mention, your blood test came back inconclusive. I'm sure it was just the machine since it said it couldn't really identify you as fully human," you told him before he had the chance to leave, his figure looming over yours as he waited for you to finish speaking. "I hope you get your machine fixed soon. I'm sorry if i did something to damage it. By the way, are you certain that you don't want to say yes to that dinner I mentioned earlier?" He insisted with his previous offer, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he waited for your response. "I'm sure, thank you for the very kind offer," you reaffirmed, stepping out of the room once he'd walked out.

You headed to the back to talk with your friends, seeing Miguel at the hospital's pharmacy to get the cough syrup prescription filled. "I heard you rejected your patient's advances when he asked you out to dinner. This one's pretty cute and rich, so what happened?" Nurse Maya asked you, pretending to sift through some files just in case a doctor passed by. "Girl, you know she's obsessed over that Spider-Man guy. How's it been going treating him for free, anyways?" Your other friend, Nurse Valeria asked, looking up from her computer just to take note of your expression. You hated how easy the news travelled in the hospital, avoiding Miguel’s gaze as you turned to look at your two friends.

"It's been going decent, thank you. And there's nothing new to tell, Spider-Man hasn't been showing up to my house lately. I kinda have missing being his little nurse," you responded, watching as they both rolled your eyes. "Of course you had to go and fall in love with the masked psycho," Maya muttered before the three of you talked about something else. You couldn't help but laugh as Maya went through her recent dating dilemma, blissfully unaware to the fact that someone had been listening to your conversation while they were waiting for their prescription to be filled.

Miguel couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips as he heard you speak about Spider-Man in the way that you did, speaking about his alter ego like a high school girl with a crush. "Mr. O'Hara?" The pharmacist behind the counter called out for what seemed to be the hundredth time, finally diverging his attention long enough from you to be able to do their job properly. "Thank you," Miguel mumbled awkwardly, the smile on his face quickly fading away as he paid for the cough syrup. He took a small spoonful of it in his car while he waited for the blue light to turn off, silently hoping that it would work and he could get back to fighting crime once more.

Though he felt a little discouraged at the way you'd shut him off with every flirting attempt that he made, he knew that at some level you had to feel some kind of attraction for him. His mind began coursing with different ideas of how to approach this situation, almost jealous of the way that you viewed his alternate ego. He started to wonder what it would be like if he was able to flirt with you the same way that he was able to as Spider-Man, what it would be like to have that confidence without the use of the mask. The way you spoke about him was almost endearing, the way that you described what it felt like to have Spider-Man come for your services and the way that you felt while you stitched him up. All that he knew is that he needed to come up with a solution about how to approach this crush for you and fast.

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

Text

"But you're so successful without it."

Content warning: This post contains mentions of suicidal ideation.

I got a message earlier tonight that I'm not going to post, but I did ask the person involved if I could talk about what we subsequently ended up talking about in DMs because I feel it's important.

Basically, it was along the lines of "My kid got diagnosed with ADHD and really wants to try meds. I know from reading your blog that correct treatment for ADHD can be really beneficial, but I just don't think she's severe enough to need them."

The message then went on to ask me, as someone who is unmedicated with ADHD, for some tricks and tips on how to be successful without medication because clearly, look how well I'm doing without them. I mean, look at my blog, look at my book(s)! Surely if I can do all that without ADHD meds, other people can too. Surely there's a trick. A skill. Something you can learn if you just try hard enough...

This is not the first time I have received a message like this. In fact, I probably get about 2-5 messages like this a week.

Usually from other people who also have ADHD/suspect ADHD but don't want medication because they don't think they need it/don't want to need it, and yet can't figure out why they're struggling so much, and ask me how do I do the thing(s) and cope so well and get so much done, etc., etc.

So I'm going to tell you what I told this person tonight in case it helps someone. Yes, I have ADHD. No, I am not medicated due to severe health complications, and yes, I get a lot done. From the outside, I am sure it looks incredibly productive and successful. But I'm going to let you in on what that success feels like.

It feels like dying.

It feels like my brain is on fire; every nerve in my body scraped raw; every part of me wired and exposed to the noise of the world. There is no quiet; there is no calm. And even when my brain does fall silent, it's another kind of death. The inside of my head is sludge, flowing uphill like treacle, weighing me down, pulling me under in the riptide of my inability to focus. I can see what needs to be done, I can see it so clearly, yet sometimes it's like I don't control my own body. Not enough dopamine. Not enough brain chemicals for the message I'm screaming in my head to make my limbs do the simplest of tasks. Like, feed myself. Take a shower. Answer that email. Text my friends back. Go to bed when I'm tired. Write a best-selling novel...

A novel that almost killed me and not because of my other ailments, but because of my unmedicated ADHD.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I was already operating at critical mass when I went into final rewrites/edits. Every coping mechanism I had fell apart. Like training wheels falling off a tricycle, leaving me to wobble unsteadily until the main wheels fell off, swiftly followed by the handlebars until all that was left was me peddling frantically trying to keep my balance and not getting anywhere. I didn't realize it then, but I was heading towards a complete mental collapse. And even when I dragged myself across the finish line with the above and beyond help provided by my friends and editors, I was so burned out I couldn't enjoy my success. Worse, my success made me suicidal.

It took me until very recently, almost two years later, to be able to read Phangs without feeling suicidal. My brain associated it with the trauma of experiencing complete ADHD burnout but having to complete a monumental task anyway.

I had to go into intensive therapy to recover. I am still in intensive therapy for it.

It took me even longer after that to be able to sit down and write without harming myself. I still struggle with it, and I tell you this in all honest sincerity in the hope it makes you realize what it costs me to be "successful" and unmedicated.

And this wasn't the first time I've had to deal with this, either.

I struggled all through high school, all through college, all through every career job I ever had, knowing there was something wrong, but not quite being able to put my finger on it because hey, I still got stuff done, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Surely everyone went through life feeling this way? Right?

...right?

It wasn't until I got my ADHD diagnosis as an adult that I realized what was happening. Why I struggled so much. Why life was so hard. In many ways, it was like the sun coming up. An internal dawning of realization and acceptance, but also rage.

So much rage.

Rage at how much I'd had to struggle because no one noticed because I was quiet and undisruptive. Rage at a system that forced me to learn in ways that were not intuitive to my brain. To always being told, "doesn't apply herself" while it felt like I was clawing my brain apart trying to do what people wanted from me. To a work-life balance, that rewards all the things that make ADHD actively worse. Rage. So much rage it hurts. And to top it all off, I can't be medicated for it. I finally know what's different, I finally know why my world feels raw and turned inside out, and I can't take any of the medications that might help me.

Do you know how angry I wake up every day that there is a possible solution just within my grasp, but my health conditions prevent me from trying them? Do you know how much it hurts? How much I grieve for the person I could be if I was able to have help beyond therapy and coaching? How much happier I could be...

Not productive. Not successful. Happy.

So ask yourself, what do you want more? A child who has to go through all of this and resents you for prolonging their suffering? Who winds up hating themselves by internalizing the false concept that if they just try hard enough, they can do whatever they set their mind to.

Or do you want to help them?

Or if this is you, why are you afraid to help yourself?

Please, don't use me as an example to harm yourself or others. Yes, I am successful without medication. But the toll is high. Too high.

Rid yourself of the idea that you need to suffer more to be allowed help. You don't. They don't. No one does.

#adhd #adult adhd #actually adhd #chronic health tag #suicide mention #suicidal ideation #long post #mental health #I am not for you to bludgeon other people with #kindly desist

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transmascissues · 3 months

Text

12 weeks post-top surgery thoughts

most importantly, i’m absolutely fucking in love with how things look! it’s still not set in stone yet, my surgeon said i won’t really see the final result until up to a year after, but I’m so happy with it already.

my surgeon’s default timeline would’ve had me starting scar tape at 4 weeks, but i still haven’t started yet because some little scabs are still hanging around even though most of my scars are completely healed. my surgeon didn’t seem concerned about it taking longer than expected, she just said everyone’s body is different. given that i have a connective tissue disorder and skin that just hates being messed with at all, i’m not surprised that it’s been slow going and i’m just happy that the rest is healing so well. i just had another post-op today and was cleared to start using scar tape because the scabbing is so minimal at this point, so i can finally move on to the next stage of healing.

i can (mostly) lift my arms now! they still can’t quite go all the way up, but i have enough of my mobility back that the only things i really struggle with are super high shelves like the ones above my fridge, and things like the washer and dryer that i have to reach really far to get into. technically, i was supposed to wait six months before raising them because that’s what my surgeon usually recommends for aesthetic purposes, but i have to be able to raise them to do my job anyway so i’m not limiting myself beyond the natural limits of discomfort at this point.

my chest muscles are mostly back to normal too, but they’re still very sensitive. when i flex them, it doesn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable but i am a lot more aware of the feeling than i was before. they also still tire out more easily than they used to — i’m back at work now, and i’ve learned the hard way that i tend to favor one arm over the other for certain tasks because when i do any of them for too long, i start to feel it in that side of my chest. it’s not anything too bad, but i’m still making sure my shifts are spread out because i don’t want to risk overdoing it.

i’m getting used to touching my own chest, but being touched by other people still feels super weird and honestly uncomfortable at times, particularly when it’s my bare chest and not over my shirt. i’ve been touching it a lot to try to desensitize it since around week 3 or 4, and it seems to be working as far as my own touch, but other people is a whole other story — when my boyfriend is touching my bare chest and their hand touches the scars, it doesn’t actually hurt but i react to it like it does. i suspect it’s more of a mental thing than anything, that since i’m still instinctively protective of it and not quite used to how it feels, touches that i’m not in control of just automatically set off alarm bells. it’s also just a generally foreign feeling even without the weirdness of healing because my boyfriend never really touched my chest before surgery since i was dysphoric about it, so it seems to require desensitization on multiple levels. i’ve given them permission to keep touching it even when i flinch (unless i explicitly ask them to stop) because i want to make sure i start getting used to the feeling.

i’m also still very sensitive to pressure against my chest, especially the front of it. it’s getting easier to lie down on my side now but i’m still using my body pillow to take some pressure off of the scars under my armpits, because if i don’t i usually can only stay in that position for a little while. my boyfriend can mostly lay their head on my chest for short periods of time now, but the position matters because if the weight isn’t distributed evenly enough or if it’s on the wrong part of my chest, it hurts. that being said, less intense pressure on the front like a hug or holding something to my chest is pretty much fine, i’m just still more sensitive to it (as with everything). i’ve been able to lay face down on top of my boyfriend a couple times without discomfort too, but i’m still erring on the side of caution and not laying on my chest too much yet.

when i was around a month in and thought i would be starting scar care soon, i was really nervous about it — particularly about the scar massage — because of the state my chest was in. i still didn’t feel like i could press on it or move the skin around or pick it up with my fingers at all, and the scar tissue underneath was still really thick and firm. i assumed that all of that would stay the same until i did the massages to break down the scar tissue and loosen things up, but i can now confirm after another month and a half of doing nothing while things healed, my skin is naturally a lot more mobile and a lot of that really thick scar tissue has already broken down. obviously i’m still going to start massaging now because i want to give myself the best possible chance of healing well, but i wish i had known how much my chest would be able to bounce back on its own. in hindsight, i’m glad i ended up having to wait to start the massage instead of doing it back when my chest was much less healed, because i’m much more comfortable manipulating it now.

every once in a while, i’ll get sharp pains in my chest. they aren’t horribly painful, mostly just unpleasant. they feel a lot like the nerve zaps i was getting earlier in recovery so it might be another round of nerves reconnecting, but it also happens more often when i’m working so it’s hard to say if it’s nerves or over-exertion. either way, i always make sure to take it easy when i start to feel that, just in case it is a sign of me doing too much.

i typically almost never eat meat, but i chose to reintroduce it into my diet after surgery to get more protein, because i wanted to make sure my body had everything it needs to heal and protein is a huge part of that. now that i’m pretty much all healed skin-wise and just waiting for everything to settle, i’ve decided it’s time to go back to my usual diet of not-fully-vegetarian-but-pretty-damn-close. i’m sure the diet change wasn’t strictly necessary but i don’t regret doing it, though i am glad to be switching back now.

putting on shirts still hasn’t gotten old. seeing how they look over a flat chest honestly feels surreal, but in the best way. hugging people and being able to press all the way into it js also still such a great feeling. i’m far enough in now that i can do all of that stuff without worrying about it, but still early enough that it all feels really new and special, and i’ve been thoroughly enjoying that.

wearing a more genderfucky outfit out in public for the first time post-op was a fucking blast. my boyfriend and i went to a new year’s eve party, and getting to show off my chest through a sheer lace top and my facial hair alongside makeup was so much fun. it was the first time i’ve been able to go all out without the lingering feeling in the back of my mind that dressing up means inevitably being seen as a woman. i definitely didn’t look like a cis man to any of the people who saw me, but they could clearly tell i wasn’t a cis woman at the very least, and knowing that made me so much more confident.

i’m far enough away now from being in the trenches of early recovery that the reality of the fact that i got such a big surgery has started to fade. when i really think about the fact that my body went through all of that and about how hard early recovery was, it doesn’t quite feel real anymore. i’m starting to reach the point one of my friends told me about, where my chest being like this feels so normal that it’s just like “yeah, of course, it’s always been like this, right?” it’s wild, really, the difference a couple months can make — it wasn’t that long ago that i was exhausted and arguably depressed from the early recovery process, and now it all feels so normal that i have to remind myself it took all of that to get here. i never really doubted that it would be worth it in the end, but i’m still more sure of that now than i ever have been.

the last couple months have been a long road, but somehow they’ve also flown by. it’s given me so much appreciation for my body — its potential to transform and what it’s been able to withstand. i wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

#top surgery adventures #top surgery results #top surgery recovery #top surgery #double incision #trans man #transmasc

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alotofpockets · 4 months

Text

Workout | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: “I think I’m gonna feel that tomorrow.”

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1k

How your girlfriend had been able to convince you to join her for her boxing workout was still a mystery to you. Well, you knew it was because you couldn’t deny her when she sent her puppy eyes, accompanied by her adorable pout your way. Natasha was one for early runs, and morning gym sessions. You on the other hand, loved sleeping in and doing the bare minimum training you needed to complete as an Avenger. So, waking up with her this morning, instead of going back to sleep after she pressed a kiss to your forehead, was a big task on its own. After many kisses, Natasha managed to get you out of bed. You enjoyed a quick breakfast together, before you headed down to the gym.

You had just finished your warming up, and Natasha was now wrapping your hands for your first boxing lesson. The Compound gym was empty beside the two of you, one of the perks of it still being early, no one would be able to see you make a fool out of yourself. “All done, baby.” Natasha says as she squeezes your hands. She helps you up and together you make your way over to the punching bags.

Before you start hitting the bag, Natasha shows you how to place your feet, and how to punch. She makes you dry punch a few times before she deems you ready for the real thing. You throw your first punch, you hit the bag well but there wasn’t a lot of power behind it. “Here, let me help.” Natasha says, stepping closer. “So, you felt how there wasn’t as much power behind that as you intended, right?” You nod in agreement. “Okay, so how you can fix that, is by altering your stand slightly.” She places her hands on your hips, and with her left foot, she pushes yours forward a bit, while simultaneously twisting your hips a bit to the right. “Now, you have a firmer stand, which will allow you to punch harder.” She steps back again, “Try it again.” She was right, you were able to hit the bag a lot harder this time.

Natasha continued showing you different techniques, before she let you go at it for a while. Wrapping her own hands to get her workout in as well. You were actually enjoying yourself quite a bit, as the workout simultaneously was also a way to punch out some of the frustrations that were clouding your mind.

When Natasha took off her gloves, you thought the workout was done. Even though you were enjoying the exercise, it was also very intense. You were sweating all over, and getting exhausted. But instead of taking off her wrap as well, she simply took a few sips of water and made her way to the boxing ring, “You coming?” You bring your towel and water bottle over to the ring. “Let’s do some sparring, and don’t worry, I will take it easy of course.” She knew you had seen her sparring with some of your other teammates before, so she wanted to reassure you right away.

She teaches you the basics of sparring, different punches, and how to duck properly. You go back and forth for a bit, before Natasha says she wants to do one real round, where of course she is still taking it easy, before ending the workout. Noticing that you were getting tired.

You throw a few good punches, though Natasha is able to block them easily, you were impressed with how good the punches were. You block a few of Natasha’s punches too, before she gets on in. The punch hits your shoulder, as you weren’t able to fully duck away, the motion makes you fall over. You reach for Natasha instantly, but that just makes her fall down with you. Your back hits the mats, and Natasha falls down on top of you. She props herself up a bit, now straddling your waist. “Are you okay?” Worry laced in her voice. “I think I’m gonna feel that tomorrow, but yes, I am okay.” She gets up and reaches out her hand to help you up as well. “Come on, let’s call it a day.”

After drinking some water, Natasha drapes your towel around your neck, doing the same for hers, before she wraps her arm around your shoulder. “You did really well, darling. I am so proud of you.” She says bringing you closer to her side. You make your way back to your shared room, where you share a long, and warm shower. Natasha agreed to spend the rest of the day cuddled up in bed.

You put on one of Natasha’s hoodies and a pair of your own sweats. Natasha opted for one of your shirts and a pair of shorts. “I’m going to get us some food, why don’t you pick out a movie in the meantime?” She leans in to kiss you softly. Once she’s out of the door, you turn on the tv, and scroll through the list of movies, before settling on one of your favorites.

It doesn’t take long for Natasha to get back to your room, with a tray full of food. She hands you a protein shake, “Here, this should help.” You take the shake from her, “Thank you, baby.” Natasha sits down beside you and hands you the plate of food she prepared for you. The two of you finished your meal before starting the movie. You cuddle into your girlfriend’s side as soon as the movie starts, she plays a kiss onto your head. “I love you, detka. Thank you for joining me today.” You smile, though you know that she can’t see it. “I love you too, and of course, I love to participate in the things that you love.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon cuddled up in bed, having a little movie marathon after the tiring workout from this morning.

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#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #black widow fic #black widow x reader #yelena belova #natasha romanoff imagine #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader

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thegreatestsandwich · 2 years

Text

I’m too wicked, I want to take all of your heart (Aemond Targaryen x f!reader)

(I can’t with this man, by the way, this is completely free of spoilers as I am saving myself from them as well, so I might be off until monday.)

Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: An act of jealousy made you want to possess your husband in every sense

Warning: Mentions of cringy bathtub sex and then the bed, but still cringy, really possesive behaviour from both parts, also jealousy from your part, read if you want, but if you are a minor, leave! why are you here?!

A/N: I’m kinda angry that the final episode that was leaked, so I’m planing to just go off tumblr until it airs. So this is spoiler free and a thank you from my part as I have reached 200 followers, that is crazy guys! thank you so much, hope you enjoy this little thing I made instead of my homework.

It was way into the night, you knew it perfectly as you made your way across the almost empty corridor. You knew this was beyond your agreement, but you didn’t care, you needed to see him. After many days without any news from him, you needed to see with your own eyes he was unharmed.

Your bare feet made no sound as you carried yourself to your destination. You enter without knocking as there was no need for formalities.

You glanced around, a few well-placed lit candles illuminating the room. It wasn’t bright and the occasion didn’t demand it. You walked towards the bathtub, your fingers caressing the gold edges of it, feeling the heat of the water that was already there, waiting to be used.

You closed your eyes, slowly inhaling the aroma of the room, a few herbs made contact with your senses and everything screamed of him. The scent of your husband already penetrating your persona: sandalwood, lemons and smoke.

“My lady? Is everything alright?” The sound of Lillen, the girl in charge of bathing your husband asked you in confusion. She was filling the bathtub with hot water.

You stayed put, your hands carefully tidying your night dress. “You are dismissed.”

“Dismissed?” She asked you. “My prince will need me to bathe him.”

You chuckled. “I am perfectly capable of doing that.”

Lillen’s eyes sparked with amusement at your request, almost laughing at your ridiculous words. “The prince will still need me to undress him, I cannot leave yet my lady.” She turned and continued her task of filling the tub. “It is late, my lady. You must go and rest. Do not worry about the prince. I will take care of him.”

Your brows twitched with anger, hands curled into fists. You tried so hard not to explode with anger at her innuendo. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “I believe I have not made myself clear.”

“Is the bath ready?” Aemond, your husband asked without looking at you or Lillen, too busy throwing his coat on the floor.

“Yes.” You answer softly, ignoring how the girl turned at you with anger, your eyes scanning his full body, trying to locate any wound he could have. Aemond turned at the sound of your voice, his face not showing any emotion but you could have sworn his eye opened a bit more in surprise. “You must hurry, the water might turn cold in any second.”

He nodded at your direction. “My wife, I apologize but I didn’t expect you to be here, I thought you might have been already asleep.” You smiled at his words, you could understand the tone he was using. He didn’t want you here.

“My prince, I was telling my lady she needs to go back to her room and rest.” Lillen stood next to Aemond, her hands touching his arm, tugging him a little towards the bathtub.

“Leave us.” You firmly told her, your eyes staring at Aemond’s face. “I can take it from here.”

Your husband’s eye sparked with amusement at your tone.

“I apologize, my lady.” Lillen continue arguing. “But I am capable of doing my job.”

“My wife has order you to leave us.” Aemond stared at the girl. “Do not question her authority in front of my persona.”

You felt the knot between your shoulders loosen in relief at his support. Lillen shot him a look with complete shock but said nothing as she made her way out of the room, her shoulder colliding with yours as she left. You sighed in relief and began walking towards Aemond.

Aemond stayed quiet as you began to unbuttoning his shirt. You tried to calm your temptation as his proximity demanded to be touched. You could feel his warmth throught the layers of clothes he wore. Your mind began wandering back to the Lillen for a second, her resistance to stay told you one thing. She hoped for something more from your husband.

How many other women had the privilege of undressing him? Of touching him?

You didn’t want to know the answer.

You didn’t like the answer.

Your eyes looked up, Aemond was watching you carefully. “Yes?”

“You seemed distracted.” His hand grabbed yours, feeling it shake. “Is everything alright? Has something been bothering you?” You looked up, meeting his violet eye. Your hands touch his stomach, carefully sliding upwards until both of them rested against his chest. Aemond quickly covered them with his. “What is it?”

You shook your head, a soft smile made its way onto your lips, your gaze returned to the open shirt. Had he been with another woman tonight? Weren’t you enough? You pushed that thought away from your mind and glanced up. “Please.” You whispered.

He help you slide the shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground without care. You were aware of his intense stare. His breath stirring your hair, there was a faint smell of wine. You didn’t know where he went these past few days. Perhaps his mother asked him for a few favors. Who knew, they never let you know their affairs.

Your fingers fumbled on that last thought and then you felt it. Jealousy. You knew before he married you, before your father offered your hand to his house who his brother was, so it was completely understandable that he might be the same. You believed you could be happy with whatever small part of himself he could share with you. You knew and you tried to prepare yourself for the other woman that could came to him in secret, you thought you could simply ignore it. But having him away from you, not knowing what could happened to him or what he would have done without your acknowledge could destroy any preparation you had.

But now. Now in this moment, now that he was in front of you, supporting your orders towards the servers, letting you undress him. You understood perfectly. You wanted him, you wanted all of him. You wanted to make him yours.

The warmth of his skin surrounded your fingers. The scent of his skin was hot and masculine, completely delicious as you breathed in. You almost close your eyes to savor him. “You don’t have to.” His whispers brought you back to reality.

“I know…but I want to.” You reply silently.

He straightened for a moment and you almost forgot how to breathe. Aemond was a tall man, your head only reaching his chin. He was slim but his body demonstrate the hours he put to train. Long, lean muscles corded his arms and shoulders. You knew how hard he work to be perfect, you saw him in the secretness of the shadows. You had the urge to touch him, to trail your fingers across his body.

You glance up and he was still watching you, his face still not showing emotion. Your hand reached up and touched his eye patch, your fingers carefully traced the borders of it but didn’t reach far as Aemond’s hand grabbed yours, slowly pulling it down, softly kissing your palm before placing it against his cheek.

“I don’t want you to see it.” He whispered. “I don’t want to scare you.”

You sighed and gestured it towards the bathtub. “Please enter before it gets cold.”

He nodded silently, quickly undoing the rest of his clothes. Aemond entered the bathtub, closing his eye for a moment before offering you his hand. “Come.”

“I believe my job is to help you bathe, my husband. That was the servant’s job, wasn’t it?” You sat at the border, your hand placing a strand of silver hair behind his ear.

He smirked for a second. “Jealousy does suit you.” He tugged at your hand. “But at this moment, the only wish I have is for my wife to bathe with me. Come.”

You hesitated for a moment.

“Do you trust me?” He asked you.

You watched him in silence before nodding, his hands grasp your waist and dragged you carefully into the water. The hot water made you hissed at the feeling. Your night dress began sticking to your skin but neither of you bothered to take it off…yet.

“You had me worried for your safety.” You stretched for a second, your hand grabbing the silver bowl at your side. You filled it with water and Aemond tilting his head backwards, so the water didn’t enter his eyes. “I thought the worst.”

“I apologize, my mother send me to resolve a few problems my brother has caused.” He close his eye at the feeling of your hands massaging his scalp. “You could come with me if it bothers you.” He muttered contently. “You could ride Vhagar with me.”

You chuckled. “Your mother will have my head if you allow me to accompany you to these quests.”

“Ah, so my mother is the one who forbid you to meet Vhagar?”

“I did not say that.” Your fingers tugged his hair a little bit making him chuckle. “There are other factor that intervene in riding your dragon.”

Aemond open his eye, stopping your hands. “And which are those factors, my wife? Perhaps I can help to dissolve them.”

“Well, there’s the possibility of your dragon eating me.” Aemond smirked. “There’s also the possibility of me falling to my death.”

“I see, Vhagar won’t damage you as he would see your connection to me and be assured that I will always catch you.” Aemond smiled, his hand caressing your cheek. He leaned towards you, his breath brushing your lips, making you shiver. “Do not listen to my mother, you marry me, not her.”

You tried to hide your smile. “Are you wooing me with your words?”

“Am I?” He returned your smile, his hand trying to make you go closer to him.

“I’m already your wife, there’s no need to woo me.” You whispered against his lips. He moved his hands around your body, carefully raising your wet night dress, you raised your arms and let him took it away from your body.

“I believe you are in the wrong, my little wildflower.” He said. “I think there’s every need for it.”

Aemond closed the distance as his need to feel your mouth against his overpowered his senses. He needed to feel it, need to mark it as his own. Days apart you had said earlier, he felt them as well.

Your cheeks blushed at his forwardness, he felt you submit at his actions. He loved how sensitive you were, how responsive to the smallest actions. His hands gripped your hips and force you to close the nonexistence distance between the both of you. If he could make you cum by simply kissing you, he would spend hours and hours doing so.

Your hands reach for his eye patch. Aemond stop abruptly.

“Then let me woo you as well. Allow me to do it.”

“Why bother at all?” he asked you. “I’m yours.”

“Let me love you.” You kiss his cheek, Aemond closed his eyes at the feeling. “Let me cherish you.” Kiss. “Let me possess you.”

“Possess me?” He allow you to slip off his eye patch. You softly kiss his scar. The beautiful sapphire showing itself. “Do you want to possess me?”

“Yes.” Your nose bopped his. “I do it in front of the king’s eyes, I do it legally.” You softly said. “But I don’t know if you truly are mine.”

“I’m yours.” He said again. “I’m yours the same way you are mine.”

His hands slid down your back, his eye open and he groaned when your hand wrapped around his cock, slowly sliding it up and down the shaft. “Ride me, my beautiful wife. Ride me until I fill you with my seed. Show me the way you want to own me.”

Your hands went to his shoulders, gripping them tightly, your nails digging at the skin. You slowly sank down his cock, soft panting breaths escaped you as he slid as far as he could.

Aemond was in heaven hearing the beautiful sounds you made as you began to ride him, you went slow and he didn’t want to take charge, not yet as he wanted to do it slowly, do it with care, with reverence, he wanted you to feel he was willing to submit to you. But Gods, you were tight, so fucking tight and it was impossible to stay still. He began moving with you, forcing himself to take his time with each thrust. He put your hands around his neck before hugging your figure. His eye opened, wanting to see your expressions.

“(Y/N),” He whispered. Your eyes opened at the sound of your name, he never used it. “That’s it, feel me. Feel how hard I am for you, only you.” He kissed you quickly. “Fuck.”

Your hands slide into his hair, beautiful strands of silver across your fingers. With a growl, you clash your mouth with his. The way he tasted was something else, it was strong and masculine, it made you feel hot, wanted, needed.

“Aemond.” You breathed against his lips. “Please.” You lifted your hips, trying to take him deeper. “Please, my love, please.”

“Tell me.” He grunted. “Tell me what you want, wildflower. Tell me, I will give it to you. Only to you.”

“Faster.” You moaned and his control finally snaped. He grasped your legs tightly and stood up. The water moving wildly at his actions, completely wetting the floor. He step aside of the bathtub carefully and made his way towards his room. “Aemond!” You gasped as he moved both of you naked. “Someone will see.”

“I’ll kill them if they see you.” He grunted. “I will show them no mercy.”

You moaned.

He walked rapidly to the bed, carefully placing you on it, not caring if you were wetting it. He grasped your legs and put them around his hips, entering you quickly. Both of you moaned. He stood still, savoring the how wet and hot your cunt was around his cock. He kissed you and began pounding into you with so much force.

“Yes.” You moaned. “Yes, yes…please…please Aemond, please.”

“Take it, I’m yours.” Your slick walls contracted around him at his words. You arched, pressing your breast into his chest. Your tights clenching hard around his hips as you came. Aemond sloppily kiss you, biting your lip. “Another, give me another.” He demanded.

“Faster…harder.” You reached back and buried your fist on his hair, clinging to him, forcing him to kiss you.

“That’s it, take me.” His thrust became harder, his expression intense and wild. Your hips met every thrust he gave you. Your soft cries fueled the insanity he was feeling. “You won’t ever doubt me, you are mine. I’m yours. That’s how it was meant to be.”

“Aemond, please.” You cried against his lips.

Pleasure washed over him. An addicting euphoria took over his body. He wouldn’t last as your cunt was tightening again against his cock. “I will show you. I will show you.”

He gasped. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” His head burying into your neck. His breaths were harsh as he pound even harder. “So perfectly mine. Only mine.” You held him tight against your body as he began cumming. You felt it fill you completely. Gods, how you love that feeling. “Mine. Mine. Mine.” He repeated as his hips slowly began pausing his thrust. “Mine.”

“Yours.” You answered against his temple. “And you are mine.”

He stayed there for a few seconds, savoring the feeling of your body against him. With a grunt he rolled off you before tucking your body at his side. His legs intertwining with yours. His hands slowly caressing your side.

You closed your eyes. “I mean what I said.” Aemond kissed your forehead. His hand brushing away your sweaty hair. “You are mine and I am yours. There’s no changing in that.” A smile broke against your face, your eyes slowly opening. He smiled softly at you. “Erase your fears from that beautiful head of yours, there’s nothing to fear when I’m at your side.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, sleep. I have tired you enough already.”

“You will be here when I wake up?”

“I will not leave your side, my beautiful wife.”

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x you #hotd #aemond kinslayer #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen smut #no spoiler #house of the dragon imagine

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heartateasee · 1 month

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“Epilogue”

Word Count: 19.2k (a long one, but it didn’t feel right to split it up)

(Epilogue for ‘Goodnight and Go’)

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving) and unprotected sex

⋆★★⋆

*Late winter - a little over three years since the wedding*

*It will be notated in the chapter when the song is meant to start. I highly encourage you to start it when it comes into play, but you can also do whatever your sweet heart desires!*

Sitting in my go to cafe, I jot down another thought into my journal as I take a sip of my black coffee. Today had been a heavy mental day, and I just needed to get out of my house to clear my head. My therapist tasked me with taking up journaling at the end of my first month of therapy - my fourth session. She asked me to start out with lists that she would give me, but then after a while she told me just to jot down whatever came to mind. Even though I wasn't actively in therapy anymore, I still held onto this - it was enough for me to not have to go to an appointment every week.

I was proud of myself for that. I've been able to use the tools given to me to be able to tend to my own mind, and to talk myself down - only having to see my therapist when absolutely necessary.

I couldn't pinpoint why today in particular had my mind so boggled though. There wasn't anything upcoming that I was stressed about that I could think of off the top of my head.

My pen continues to scratch over the page, and I feel that my eyebrows are narrowed in concentration as I let out thought after thought. I could feel the fog in my mind starting to ease with each line, but still...it didn't seem to be enough.

As much as I have gotten a good grip on myself and my emotions, there were days that I still just felt...off. Today was definitely one of them. It wasn't so much anxiousness or nervousness that I was feeling - something that I've battled with for the past two years. It was something different. It was something that I couldn't exactly put my finger on, and I think that's what caused my mind to race from the moment I opened my eyes this morning.

The cafe was bustling on this Saturday morning, and I was lucky that I was able to get my usual two seat table in the back corner. Although I can hear the baristas loud and clear from here, the rest of the noise in the cafe seems to drown due to how far back I am.

"Order for Carter!"

My pen stops, and I take a moment to blink at the page.

It can't be her.

Shaking my head, I push the thought from my mind as I chew on my bottom lip - trying to figure out how to phrase what I want to write down next.

It's not until I see a streak of red hair out of my peripheral that I finally look up.

There's no mistaking the woman smiling as she picks up her cup off the counter. She digs into her bag, and I can see that she's given the barista a postcard with an illustration of a flower on it. There's some kind of quote on the back, and by the look on the barista's face, it must be something kind, or inspirational.

Before I can even think about it, I push myself up from my seat to get a better look. My movement must have been caught out of the corner of her eye because it's barely a few seconds later that she's looking at me.

She holds her paper cup in both hands as we stare at each out from a ways across the cafe - her expression unreadable.

I hadn't seen her since the wedding. After that, she disappeared from my life completely. I had tried for months to reach her, but I never got any response. Gwen had told me she had tried to do the same. I'd only found out just in the past year that was a lie.

No one saw Carter that first Christmas after everything.

After that, the holidays were always separated due to the fact that Carter and Gwen's parents divorced only a few months after the wedding. I knew that Carter spent the holidays with her father while Gwen and I spent them with mother. Their parents hardly had any communication with each other, and I knew that their mother hadn't attempted to reach out to Carter at all - something she made very clear whenever she could.

I should've realized then what this all would become.

Carter's brown eyes look around for a moment before she starts to walk over to me, and I immediately feel my hands begin to shake.

"Harry," she says, just barely meeting my eyes now that she was closer to me. "Hi."

"Hi, Carter," my voice almost sounds strained as I speak, and I clear my throat almost immediately. "I...I didn't know you were visiting."

"Oh, no," she shakes her head. "I'm not visiting. I moved back a couple of months ago. This place has become a regular spot for me. I don't live too far from here."

I raise my eyebrows at her words, and it's then I can see she's looking past me to get a view of the table I had been sitting at - as if she were looking for someone else.

"Do you want to sit?" I ask, turning around and gesturing to the chair across from the one I had been occupying. "I'm here by myself."

Carter takes a moment before she nods. "Okay."

I pull the seat out for her, which earns me a small 'thank you', before I sit back in my own seat. Carter turns to hang her bag on the back of her chair before she's facing forward once more - both of her hands finding their way around her cup again.

Her eyes look down at my journal, and I quickly close it - pulling it from the table to slip into the green tote bag I had brought with me.

"You journal?" She asks, tilting her head to the side.

"Uh, yeah," I lift a hand to rub the back of my neck. I've never really talked to anyone but my therapist about my journaling before. "For about a year or so now."

Carter hums as she nods, pursing her lips to the side. "I do too, but I'm going on about two and a half years. I picked it up when I started therapy."

My chest aches as I can see a sheen of sadness in her eyes for a moment before it disappears. "I started it up for the same reason too."

I can tell this surprises her, and silence blankets over us for a moment.

"Are you still tattooing?" I ask - grimacing when I realize just how awkward this feels between us.

"I am," I watch as a large smile creeps onto Carter's face. "I'm actually working at the shop with Duncan again. He was nice enough to hire me back as soon as I told him I'd be moving home. He was thrilled, actually."

"Of course he was," I say, laughing a bit. "You're exceptional at what you do, Carter. Any shop would be lucky to have you."

Carter's cheeks flush due to my compliment, and I watch as she lifts her cup to her mouth. She hisses quickly as she pulls it away, and I know she's burned her tongue.

"Here," I reach forward without hesitation to take the cup from her.

Her eyes are trained on my every move as I pull the lid off the cup, setting it down on a napkin on the table. This was something I did for her quite often when we were in college. There was a bookstore/coffee shop that we frequented a few days a week, and Carter was never one to be patient and wait for her drink to cool properly. I started doing this as a quick solution without her even asking. It just became a habit for me.

I can tell her eyes are on my left hand, and then she looks up at me. "You...you're not..."

"I'm not...what?"

Carter looks back at my hand before looking at my face again. "You're not wearing your ring."

My eyebrows knit together as I look at her. "Carter," I start, and I can tell she's genuinely curious as to why that particular piece of jewelry is missing. "Gwen and I are divorced."

Her eyes widen for a moment, and I watch as the color leaves her face. "O-Oh....oh," she says, straightening up in her chair as she drops her hands to her lap. I can tell she's running her palms over her thighs as she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Harry, I-I didn't-"

"You didn't know?"

Carter shakes her head again, and I can see with the way her chest is moving that she's trying to take deep breaths.

"Hey," I whisper, leaning forward to take one of her hands in mine from underneath the table - thankful that this table wasn't too big so I was able to reach across to her easily. "It's okay. It actually doesn't surprise me that you wouldn't know."

I run my thumb along her knuckles, and I can tell it's starting to soothe her as she finally looks up from the table to make eye contact with me.

"My dad had said that Gwen moved away, but I figured that meant you did too. That's why I was a bit shocked to see you here," she says, and I can tell she's trying to put it all together. "I don't think he even knows you guys have separated. My mom had only told him about the move."

I can't help but roll my eyes at that. Another thing that didn't shock me. Their mother didn't want their father, or Carter, to know about the divorce. She didn't want Gwen to look like she failed at something.

"She did move," I give Carter's hand one more squeeze before sitting back in my chair - our touch separating. "About five months ago. We've been separated for almost a year and a half. She left a few months after the divorce was completely finalized."

Carter's face shows that she's completely dumbfounded by this information, but she's trying to keep it together. "That's...that's why I moved back, you know? Because I thought you both were gone."

Her words sting, but I can't hold them against her. We wronged her, Gwen and I both, and I don't ever expect her to forgive me for the way that I treated her while I was with Gwen. I know that if anyone had treated me the way I did her, I'd never speak to them again.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by asking you to sit with me. I didn't know you thought I was gone too," I tell her, and now I'm the one gripping my thighs. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to. I more than understand if I'm the last person you ever wish to talk to."

Looking down at my lap, I pick at my cuticles as I wait to hear her chair slide across the floor. But I don't.

I look up to see Carter still looking at me, and she shakes her head. "I chose to sit here, Harry. I'm okay, I promise."

I give her a small nod, but I immediately look back down at my lap.

A few seconds pass before I hear her clear her throat. "I like your hair. I never thought I'd see you with it so short."

I can't help but smile at her words, and I look at her once more. "Yeah? It's not weird without the curls?"

"I mean...it's a little weird," Carter smirks, and I know she's trying to help our playful banter come out again. "But they look like they're on the verge of growing back. I'm enjoying this little faux hawk thing you have going on though."

She lifts her drink to her lips and takes a sip - not flinching away from the liquid this time, so I know it's cooled down properly for her.

"It feels nice," I shrug. "Healthy and all. I buzzed it completely when the divorce was finalized. It was therapeutic, honestly."

"Oh? I wish I could've seen it buzzed," she giggles, pursing her lips to the side before speaking again. "I get the whole changing your hair thing though. I went brunette a few months after I left."

"Did you really?"

"Yeah, let me see. I'm sure I still have some pictures on my phone," she says before digging into her bag.

She swipes on her screen for a while before turning her phone to face me. "See?"

Even though I know it's Carter in this picture, it's not my Carter. She's smiling for the camera, but there's a dimness behind her eyes that I've never seen from her. She was unhappy - that much was clear.

"Oh, wow," I say, giving her a half grin so as to not disappoint her. "It definitely suited you, but I have to be biased when it comes to the red. It's just you."

"Yeah, I like the red too - I like being natural and all that."

She drops her phone back into her purse before I go to speak again.

"So, did you move back by yourself or..."

"Yeah, just me, and my little black cat, Ichabod," I can see her face light up as she mentions her cat, and it causes a warmth in my chest. "I had been seeing this guy for a little over a year, and I broke up with him about...half a year ago now? It just wasn't working out."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I tell her genuinely. "He wasn't bad to you, was he?"

"Oh, no," Carter shakes her head adamantly. "Not at all. He was actually very sweet, but I realized that even though I loved him, I wasn't in love with him anymore. So, I broke it off almost immediately after realizing that. I didn't want to string him along when I wasn't going to be one hundred percent in the relationship."

"And why do you think you weren't?" I ask, and I watch as Carter starts to play with the cardboard sleeve around her cup. "Why do you think you weren't one hundred percent in the relationship?"

Her eyes peer up at me underneath her lashes, but her face is still tilted slightly towards the table. "I think you and I both know why, Harry."

My stomach flutters when I realize what she's alluding to, but I don't want to press that conversation any further. Not here, and not after just seeing her again for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.

"Well, I'm sorry it didn't end up working out. You deserve all the happiness in the world."

"What makes you think that just because that ended that I'm unhappy? I'm actually the happiest I've been in a while since moving back," she tells me, but there's no aggression to her tone as she continues her explanation. "I've just been letting life take me where it wants for the most part, and yeah I get lonely sometimes, but it's okay. The quiet doesn't bother me anymore like it used to."

The confidence that I can see in her now is admirable. She's so sure of herself, and I can tell she means what she says.

Carter is happy.

"Can I ask what it was that you handed the barista earlier?" I have a feeling that whatever that was plays into this newfound self that I can see she has.

"Oh, those are just little postcards I make for fun. I do them in series, I guess? Like right now they're all different flowers, and the quotes on the back have to do with either growth, or rebirth," she explains, leaning forward onto the table a bit. "I keep them in my bag, and I hand them out to people who I feel need them, or someone who's shown me kindness that day. It's nice to see their reactions."

Carter has always had a big heart, and it makes me ecstatic to see that hasn't changed despite what those closest to her have put her through.

As happy as it makes me to see her own growth, there's also a part of me that's sad that I missed it. But the guilt is what chews at me the most. The guilt of just letting her slip through my fingers like I did.

"Oh, shit, what's the time?" I hear Carter ask before she pulls out her phone again. "I need to be at the shop in ten minutes. I'm sorry, I've gotta go."

"That's okay, I was just finishing up too. Let me walk you out?" I ask, and she looks over to me after stopping her slightly frantic movements.

"Sure, yeah."

She puts the lid on her drink as I stand and put the strap of my tote over my shoulder, and soon we're both heading towards the entrance of the cafe. I hold the door open for her as we step outside, and we move over onto the sidewalk so that we're not blocking the door as we stop.

"It was really good seeing you, Carter," I tell her honestly. "And I know it might be too much of me to ask, and you can absolutely say no, but do you think we could meet up again sometime?"

Carter chews on her bottom lip as she contemplates my request before she nods. "Yeah, I think that would be okay. I think I'd like that."

I can tell I have the stupidest smile on my face when I hear her agree. "Okay, yeah, uhm, let me just get my phone out for you to put your new-"

"I have the same number," she interrupts me, and I could tell she was a bit hesitant to say that considering she never once responded to me when I tried to reach out. "And I still have your number too."

I don't say anything in response to that because I understand why she did what she did. I give her a nod, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

"Okay, well, I'll text you so we can plan something, alright?"

"That sounds good."

We stand there for a moment, and I can tell neither of us really know how to end the conversation.

"Did you ever get your heart tattoo?" Carter blurts out, and I can see it was something she had been itching to ask me this whole time.

I laugh softly. "You remember that?"

She nods while giving me a small shrug. "It just stuck with me."

"I haven't, no," I say. "I actually haven't gotten anything since before...everything."

"You mean like before the wedding?"

"Yeah," I sigh, running the tip of my tongue along the inside of my bottom lip. "Didn't really have the motivation or inspiration to get anything new."

Carter stares at me for a moment before speaking again. "Well, if you want to still get it done, I'd be more than happy to do it for you. Just text me when you're free, and I'll see if it lines up with what I have booked right now."

"Wait, are you serious?" I ask. I'm taken completely by surprise that she would offer to do this so quickly after just seeing each other again.

"Well, you told me you wanted me to be the one to do it, right?" She asks playfully as she bumps her shoulder against mine. "I'm not letting anyone else tattoo that on you."

"I guess when you put it that way," I say as if she's twisting my arm, which causes her to let out a noise of disappointment - having her now shove my arm. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I wouldn't want anyone else doing it for me either."

Carter looks up at me with a beaming smile, and for a moment I'm transported right back - as if things never changed. "Then it's settled. Just text me."

"I will."

She begins to walk away from me before she stops. "Oh, here!"

Walking back over, she digs in her bag and flips through something for a moment before she's extending one of her postcards out to me. "I think this one belongs to you."

I look down at it for a moment, and by the time I look back up, I can already see her back towards me in the distance. Shaking my head at her with a smile of my own, I look back down at the postcard to really study it.

On the front was just a plain line work illustration of a daffodil. I flip it over on the back, and I see this one in particular has two quotes. I read each of them over once, but then I find myself reading them again, and again once I process what they really mean.

"The people who are meant to be will always gravitate back towards you, no matter how far they wander." - UNKNOWN

•

"Souls tend to go back to who feels like home." - N.R. HART

⋆★★⋆

It's been a couple of weeks since I saw Carter at the coffee shop, but we had been texting almost every day. I didn't seem too eager, so I didn't text her about booking the tattoo until later that evening, and he she was able to fit me in today. Neither of us made any moves to ask about hanging out outside of my tattoo appointment, but I wanted to so badly.

When I got back to my place after running into her that afternoon, I immediately got on my computer and searched what a daffodil symbolizes. I was met with the answer that it meant 'rebirth and new beginnings' among a few other things, but those stuck out to me the most. She was sending me a signal that maybe we could build this again.

I knew that things were going to be different, it was almost impossible for things to go back to the way they were back then, but I desperately craved to be in Carter's presence again.

Her quote that she handed to me was right. She felt like home.

That was a feeling I hadn't experienced in a while - not even when I spent my first Christmas back in Holmes Chapel this past December. It felt weird going back there by myself, but I did find comfort in being back with my mother, especially since the divorce was still pretty fresh. I ended up staying with my parents for a little over a month. I had never been more thankful for my job allowing me to work from home more than during that time.

I didn't realize just how much time I needed away from everything until then. It gave me a chance to help clear my head, and I still met with my therapist over Zoom so that I kept up with my sessions. It wasn't until I got back that I made her aware that I thought I was doing okay on my own, and that I wanted to see her on a per needed basis going forward. She agreed that she thought that was appropriate, and I've only had to see her once since then.

The need to see her came after Gwen was back in town visiting her mother. She told me that after she moved she realized she had taken some stuff of mine, and she wanted to give it back. I had tried to convince her just to leave it on her mother's porch whenever she left, and that I'd come by and grab it once I knew she was gone, but she refused. I was tempted to tell her just to forget it, that I didn't want any of it back, and that was the truth until she rattled off what the box included. It wasn't until she said there was a spiral bound notebook with a tattered red cover that I knew I needed to get that box back.

That notebook was one that Carter and I used to write notes back and forth to each other in during the class where we first met.

It was obvious that Gwen hadn't gone through it. If she had, there was no way she would've wanted to give me something so sentimental back - especially since it included a piece of Carter. When I went over there to get the box from her, she was immediately in my ear the whole time. She was asking if I thought I had made the right decision divorcing her, and if I was happy with myself. She asked if I had found someone new - asked if they felt as good as she did it.

But it wasn't until she brought up Carter that I snapped.

"I swear to god, if you're with my 'pick me' of a little sister, then you're just pathetic," she had said, and that caused me to stop right where I was. I had been trying to get back to my car so I could pack the box up and leave.

"I think you're a bit mistaken, Gwen," I told her as I looked over my shoulder to see her standing there with her hands on her hips. "You've always been the 'pick me' out of the two of you. I thought by now you maybe would've looked in a mirror and seen that you're the problem - not just with me, but with everyone. All I can say is that I'm lucky I can see it now, and I'm glad I got out of our marriage when I did."

That left her completely dumbfounded, and she didn't utter another word as I got into my car and left. I'm hoping that's the last time I'll ever have to see Gwen.

Regardless of how I defended myself and Carter against her, I was still shaken up by the encounter. My therapist was thankfully able to work me in that same day for a visit. She didn't respond much to me - it was more so of a vent session for me anyway. At the end of that session, she told me that I should be proud of finding it within myself to not only see Gwen, but to also stand up to her. That was something I hadn't been able to do at all in my last year with Gwen.

The first six months of marriage was wonderful, but the remaining year was horrific. I had dealt with Gwen coming home and screaming at me almost every day due to stress from her work. It wasn't until things got physical that I knew I had to leave.

At first it was a slap, and she apologized profusely for it - telling me she would never mean to hurt me, and she couldn't explain why she did it. I let it slide because I knew how much pressure she was under. The next time she hit me it was her closed fist connecting harshly with my chest. The final time, she had attempted to throw a vase at my head. She was lucky I was able to move out of the way quickly, and I avoided it.

I left that night, packing up what I absolutely needed, and I told her that I would be back to get the rest of my things. It took me about a week to get everything out, except for that one box of stuff apparently, and I made sure that I checked our Ring camera for movement before going over so I could see if she was at work. I didn't want to see her anymore at all. The thought of being in her presence made my skin crawl.

The whole thing made me wonder if the physical part of her anger was only just towards me, or if she had ever gotten physical like that with Carter. It broke me to think that Carter could've been on the receiving end of her wrath in that way, and I prayed that I was wrong in thinking that it maybe had happened in the past.

I let Gwen keep the house because I didn't want it. I didn't want the awful memories those walls held, and I knew that with the divorce I'd end up getting some money back for it considering we bought it together. Once I got the money from everything, I ended up getting a house of my own. Thankfully Gwen told the courts the divorce was amicable even though she really didn't want it, and the only reason why she agreed to that was because I agreed to not bring up her abuse if she did so.

I just wanted it all to be over. I wanted to start fresh, and I needed to be rid of her.

I'm drawn out of my thoughts when I realize I'm close to the tattoo shop, and I do my best to force the negativity out of my mind. Today was going to be a positive experience. I also think that today is going to set the tone of where things go from here with Carter. I'm hoping the outcome is us trying to rebuild our friendship, but I would be more than understanding if Carter didn't wish to get close with me again in that capacity. She had every right to deny me.

I parallel park on the street right out front of the shop, just across the street, and hop out. Once I'm inside, I'm immediately drawn to her red hair as she stands at her station. I can see that she's applying some second skin to the forearm of the girl sitting on her table.

"Harry, right?" I hear my name being called, and I look over to see Duncan.

"Yeah, that's right," I give him a small nod while sending him a smile. "It's been a while, Duncan. How are you?"

"I've been good, man, really good," Duncan says as he leans against the check-out counter, arms crossed over his chest. "Business has been great, and I just moved into a new house with my wife and little girl. No complaints. How about you? Carter mentioned that you would be coming in."

I can't help but laugh a bit when I try to think of how to answer Duncan's question. I've never been one to dump my feelings on people when they casually ask how you're doing. "I'm getting better," I tell him honestly. "Had some things happen over the past couple of years, but I'm definitely finding myself again."

Duncan doesn't get a chance to respond as Carter starts walking her client up to the counter. "Hi, Harry," she says, her smile growing the closer she gets to me. "I'll be just another minute or so."

"Take your time," I tell her, shoving my hands into my front pockets.

"You can go ahead and wait by my station if you'd like. I'll just need to get everything sanitized once I'm back over there, then we can start," she tells me, and I give her a nod before following her instructions.

I sit down on one of the stools she had over there as I wait for Carter, but I find it hard to keep my eyes off of her from across the shop. It's clear to see that she's definitely gotten more sure of herself over these past few years. She holds a smile the whole time she checks the client out, and I can see this newfound charisma that I caught at the cafe the other day just seeping out of her.

Once she finishes up, she heads back over to me, and I witness a softness pooling in her eyes as she stands next to me. "How are you?"

I stand up from the stool, and out of habit I go to wrap my arms around her. Carter's eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't stop me, if anything, she's quick to reciprocate. Her cheek rests against my chest, and I feel her let out a large exhale as her fingers curl into the loose jumper I was wearing.

"I'm good," I speak, finally replying to her question - moving around so my own cheek is now lying on the top of her head. "How about you?"

I feel Carter nod against me for a moment before we separate. "I'm good as well."

She moves away from me to slip on a pair of gloves, and she begins to wipe her table down completely. Once done, she motions for me to sit there, and she starts to get her station ready.

"Are you nervous?" She peeks at me over her shoulder with a smirk before looking back to her task at hand.

"A little bit, actually," I chuckle, running my hands over the tops of my thighs. "It's been a while, and I think I remember how it feels, but I'm questioning if I really do or not."

"Oh god," Carter gasps as she turns around completely, tugging on my jumper to signal it's time to take it off. "You're not going to pass out on me, are you?"

I can tell she's still being playful with me, and I shake my head. "I think we're good unless I somehow randomly see someone getting their tongue pierced."

Carter tilts her head back with a large laugh, clapping her hands together as I pull my jumper over my head. I'm wearing a black tank top underneath to make it easier for her to access the inside of my bicep. "I'll make sure to have Duncan tell me if someone comes in for one of those so we can make sure you don't get up to go to the bathroom and pass the piercing room at that time."

I roll my eyes at her while she pulls her hair into a bun on the top of her head as I hang my jumper on the small coat rack she has in the corner.

As I walk back over, I see that Carter is slipping the drawing she's made of the heart I wanted out of the front of her binder. The front of her binder is usually reserved for fun little sketches of hers, much like the ones I first noticed when we were in college. I look at the side of her face as I watch her, knowing she usually keeps her stencils in one of the clear sleeves she had inside.

"Did you just finish that up last night? Is that why it's in the front?" I ask, gesturing to the drawing as I sit down on the side of the table.

Carter glances at me out of the corner of her eye as she shakes her head. "Uh no...I've had this done for a while," she says, and she quickly clears her throat. "I just need to get it all prepared, I'll be right back."

My eyes watch her as she goes, but she returns quickly with another fresh pair of gloves on, and the stencil of the heart in her hand. "You said you wanted this on the inside of your bicep, right?"

I nod as I lay back on the table, and I extend my arm out for her. Carter sits down on her stool, rolling over to me before holding the edges of the stencil between the pads of her thumb and index finger on each of her hands. Tilting her head to the side, she tries different positions before it, and I see her eyes light up when she gets it right. She lays the stencil down - smoothing it over to make sure it all gets on my skin.

"Have a look," she says as she pulls it off, and I stand from the table one more to take a look at it in the full length mirror.

I move my arm in all different directions to make sure none of them make it look funny before I nod. "That's perfect, Carter. It looks great."

Once I lay back down on the table, she grabs her gun and scoots as close as possible to me. "You ready?

"Yep," I sigh, looking at the ceiling as I hear the buzzing start.

It's only a few seconds later that I feel that familiar scratch across my skin, and I grimace slightly from how long it's been since I've felt it. I take in a deep breath as I can tell she's trying to warm me up a little bit before she really gets started.

"Doing okay?" Carter checks in on me, giving my upper bicep a reassuring squeeze as she dips back into the ink for a moment.

"Yeah, feels like I remember," I say, earning a small giggle from her.

"Well, that's good then, yeah?"

I nod as she starts up again, and it's silent between the two of us for a while before Carter speaks.

"I've had the heart finished since before...everything," she whispers, and I move my head to the side so I can look at her properly. Her eyes stay focused on her work, but she flicks them up to meet mine for just a moment. "I was going to show you the drawing that night, sort of as a surprise present, I guess."

It's as if I almost feel my heart actually crack in my chest at her confession. I couldn't believe that she had finished it up back then, but I also couldn't believe that she had held onto it for this long. Part of that gives me hope that she was just waiting for the opportunity for us to reconnect at some point, like we have now.

I had thought about her so much since the last time I saw her, but she had grown even heavier on my mind since I started therapy. My therapist really helped me work through my feelings, and the more I worked through them, the more I realized just how much I had fucked up with Carter. I've beaten myself up time, and time again while looking back on how I treated her, and how I allowed her to be treated.

The image of her standing in that groom's suite, begging me to reconsider my marriage is forever engraved in my mind. Her body trembling with her arms wrapped around herself, tears streaming down her cheeks as she cowered away from me. I thought that night I found her outside at the formal was going to be the worst I'd ever seen her, and the fact that I was the cause of an even worse reaction than that...I'll never be able to forgive myself. My therapist has told me time and time again that I needed to find it within me to do so, but I don't see how it's possible.

"And I'd really like to talk everything over at some point," Carter speaks up again, but now she keeps her sight down, and off my face. "But for now, I think it would be nice to just get to know each other again, if that's something you're okay with. Once we feel like we're in a comfortable place, then I'd like for us to be able to put it all out on the table. I have a lot I feel like I need to say, and a lot I need to ask."

"I think I'd really like that too, Carter," I agree, reaching my hand out when she stops tattooing me for a moment. I wrap my palm around her forearm, rubbing my thumb against her smooth skin. "You don't know how nervous I've been these past couple of weeks. I was just holding onto hope that you would give me another chance."

"I still have a lot of hurt feelings," she explains as I drop my hand to allow her to start up her work again. "But I also didn't handle things in the right way. I was hoping that seeing each other would open up that opportunity for us to reconnect."

Looking up at me again for just a second, we give each other soft smiles.

It's a couple hours later that Carter finishes up my tattoo completely. My bicep now felt like a bunch of pins and needles, but I didn't want to have to come back for another session. I've always been one to complete my tattoos in one session, if possible. Carter had already let me look at the tattoo, and put the second skin on it before I walked over to the coat rack to grab my jumper.

"Here, let me help you," I hear her say after she disposes of her gloves. "Go ahead and put your arms in, and I'll help pull it down."

I do as she asks, keeping my arms above her head, and only starting to lower them down as I feel her pulling the hem of my jumper down as well. Once it was on properly, she gave me a nod. "I'm going to just clean up really quick since you were my last one of the day, and then I'll meet you at the counter, okay?"

I head over to the lobby section of the shop and sit down on one of the couches, beginning to scroll through my phone as I wait for her. I can hear her holding conversations with a couple of people around the shop over the next few minutes, and finally I hear her calling my name.

Walking over to the counter, she tells me my total, and my eyebrows narrow. "Carter, you know that's not right," I tell her with a small laugh.

"Friends and family discount," she shrugs, giving me a smug smile.

I roll my eyes, but I allow her to charge me what she wants - handing my card over. Once everything was settled, we head out of the shop, and I point to my car that's parked across the street. "That's me."

"That's me," she mimics, pointing to her car that was just a little ways down on the same side of the street.

"I'll walk you."

Carter nods, and I rest my hand against the small of her back to keep her on the inner part of the sidewalk as we make our way towards her car. Once there, she turns to face me, a tender look on her face.

"It was nice getting to tattoo you again," her voice is warm as she speaks, and I feel my stomach fluttering with how sincere she sounds. "I haven't tattooed a friend since Kieran, and that was a couple of years ago, so this was wonderful."

"Well, I'm glad it was you that could give me another tattoo after so long," I tell her, reaching out to rub my hand up and down her arm for a moment before dropping it.

"I'll text you, and maybe we can plan on meeting up to do something sometime next week? The weather is getting warmer, so I was hoping to spend some more time outside."

"Yeah, that sounds great. We can definitely figure something out," I respond, biting down on my bottom lip.

"Before I go, I wanted to give you this," Carter says before digging into her bag, much like she did before she walked away from me at the cafe. "Wait to read it until you're in your car but...I think this explains what I felt all those years ago a little better than I did back then, and how I've felt going forward."

Looking down at the postcard, I see that there's now a line illustration of a nightingale instead of a daffodil. "This drawing is beautiful, Carter."

"Thank you," she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before clearing her throat. "I'm sorry to dart off so quickly, but I promised my dad I'd come over and make us some dinner tonight."

"Don't apologize, we practically spent the afternoon together."

We step forward to wrap ourselves in another embrace - all while being mindful of my fresh tattoo.

"You smell the same," I hear Carter whisper after a moment, and I look down to see her snuggling her nose into my chest. "I've missed it."

Swallowing harshly, I force away the tears that want to spring in my eyes. "You smell the same too. I've missed it...missed you so, so much."

I take a chance, and I press my lips against the crown of her head. I feel Carter's cheeks round out against my torso before she's looking up at me with a wide smile. "I'll see you soon."

"See you soon."

We separate, and I stand on the sidewalk to make sure she takes off safely. She waves at me through her window as she drives off, and I make my way over to my car. I'm immediately pulling up google on my phone to look up the symbolism of a nightingale, and the tears I had just wished away come crawling back.

"Found in Persian culture, through poetry and music, the nightingale has been celebrated as a symbol of unrequited love."

I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek as I look out my window, feeling moisture beginning to wet my face. My hand shakes as I continue to hold the postcard, but I can't look back down at it. I'm scared of what the other side, the quote, will bring.

I give myself a moment or two, sniffling softly before I look down - flipping the card over.

"No matter how much you wish you could, you cannot control how another person feels and loves.

Just because someone fails to see your worth, it doesn't make them a bad person, and it doesn't mean you are unlovable. It simply means that they aren't meant for you.

You should never have to spend your days and nights wondering if you are good enough for somebody. You are enough. You are more than enough for the right person.

Always remember that your happiness comes first. Focus on loving yourself, really loving yourself and you will see your value and find the strength to walk away from unrequited love.

Weeks, months, years will pass and you'll look back and wonder why on earth it took you so long to see that all along you deserved everything you always wished you had.

- CHARLOTTE FREEMAN"

⋆★★⋆

It's a Saturday night, and I've been sitting outside of Carter's house for the past fifteen minutes - just staring down at the bundle of daffodils in my hand. My mind is going a mile a minute, and I know I have to calm myself down before I go up and knock on her door. I got here early for this specific reason. I knew that I would probably work myself up, and sure enough, I have.

This was the first time either of us had agreed to meet at one of our houses. Over the past three and a half months, we've been seeing each other only in public spaces.

I was more than okay with us only meeting out in public. We both made the decision to take things slow as we rebuild our relationship with each other, and we both know that this relationship will more than likely be similar to our previous one, but there's no way it could ever be the same.

I think the scariest thing for me was that I found myself falling back in love with Carter easily.

Through therapy I realized that I never really stopped loving her in that way, I had just suppressed my feelings because I thought she didn't feel the same.

Going to therapy made me remember a lot of things I had pushed to the back of my mind when it came to the transition of my feelings for Carter into my feelings for Gwen. I had forgotten about how anytime Carter was out of the house, Gwen was telling me that she was out with a boy. I thought that Carter was hiding a relationship from me, and subconsciously, that's why I hid my relationship with Gwen. It wasn't until years later that I found out that Gwen had been feeding me lies.

Bottom line - Gwen manipulated me our entire relationship.

I know I'm not completely innocent, and that her manipulation isn't a complete excuse for the way that I acted, but it made me realize just how much she lied to me. She did anything she could to keep her hooks in me until she knew she had me fully secured, and then it was already too late with Carter. I had already separated myself from her to keep myself from getting hurt even further, and I had already started to fall in love with Gwen.

I know that I loved Gwen at one point. I know that I was still in love with her even when she hit me, but I know I fell right out of love with her the night she could've caused me irreparable damage.

Fuck, I didn't need to be thinking about all of this right now.

Tucking my chin to my chest, I suck in a deep breath as I lift my hand to pinch at the bridge of my nose. Reminiscing on the past in this very moment wasn't helping me calm down.

Instead I try to focus on the positive. Carter somehow found it in her heart to give me a second chance, and our reconnecting felt different to than I had anticipated. I could tell by the way she looked at me that she felt the same way too. We exchange small intimate touches every now and then, but that's as far as it's gone. I've also noticed that we're a lot more flirty with each other than we used to be. It's almost as if we were a couple that had separated, and now we're trying to figure out if time apart could make it work again. It didn't feel like we were necessarily rebuilding just a friendship.

It wasn't until this past Tuesday when we were sitting on a bench in the park that I asked her to dinner.

Carter had been talking about getting a corn-dog from this street cart for a few days, and I finally suggested to her that we just go and get them together. She was more than ecstatic when I told her that I wanted to go too. She got a regular corn-dog, and I got one with a plant-based hotdog inside. While we sat on the bench, her legs were draped over my lap as she leaned against the arm rest, ankles crossed one over the other.

Her heart shaped sunglasses were perched on her nose as I traced my fingertips up down one of her legs as we ate.

"I'm so happy right now," she said, using her hand to cover her mouth full of food as she spoke - as if she couldn't wait to tell me. "Thank you for coming with me, Harry. We picked such a good day too. It's beautiful out."

I swallowed the bite I was chewing before responding to her. "Of course I was going to come with you. I had to see the look on your face once you finally got your corndog."

The giggle that left her warmed my heart as her nose scrunched up, and I gave her thigh a squeeze. Humming, she let her free hand travel down to wrap around my fingers, and we remained like that for the rest of the time that we ate.

We stayed at the park for about an hour total, and it wasn't until we were about to get up and leave that I finally grew the balls to ask her what I had been wanting to ask her for a few weeks at that point.

That's when I asked her about grabbing dinner together, something we hadn't done yet.

"Yeah, of course we can grab dinner sometime. That would be fun!"

I remember my palms immediately going clammy, and Carter could instantly tell that something was wrong.

"Hey, are you okay?" Her palm found my back, and she began to move in circles.

"Well...I just-" I stumbled over my words like an idiot, finally clearing my throat when I felt like I had myself somewhat together. "How would you feel about considering it a date?"

Even though Carter had her sunglasses on, the lenses were pretty transparent, and I watched as her eyes went wide - her pink lips parting in surprise. I immediately had to look away from her, and I looked down at my hands as I nervously rubbed them together.

"Sorry...I'm sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes tight as if that was going to just make what I had asked disappear. "Forget it. We don't have to. I just ruined this whole fucking thing."

It was a few seconds later that I felt Carter's hand leave my back, and soon her palm was cradling one of my cheeks. She turned my face so I was looking at her - causing me to reluctantly open my eyes.

"It can be a date, Harry," she told me, and I instantly felt a knot form in my stomach. It wasn't out of anxiousness though, it was out of excitement. "I'm a little nervous given the past, but I'd like for it to be a date too."

When we separated that day, she let me give her a kiss on the cheek, and it made me tingle all over when I saw her face flush.

We haven't really spoken about our feelings at all, and we haven't discussed any expectations of each other either. I have a feeling that both of those things are bound to come up tonight. That's probably another reason why I'm so incredibly nervous.

My eyes glance over at the clock, and I see that it's now the time that I told her I would pick her up.

I suck in a deep breath as I get out of the car, my hands shaking as I keep a grip on the daffodils, and I head up to her door. Lifting my finger, I ring her doorbell before taking a small step back so that I'm not crowding her immediately.

The door opens after a moment, and once Carter's eyes connect with mine, a large smile takes over her features. "Hi, H," she says. She looks me over for a moment before looking back at my face. "You look so handsome."

It's as if my breath was sucked from my lungs when she opened that door. The dress she has on fits her perfectly, and she has her hair slightly curled so that it bounces a bit as she moves. I couldn't help but internally laugh out in adoration when I saw she had all black Vans old skools platforms on her feet.

Some things never change.

"Wow, Carter," I breathe, shaking my head. "You look gorgeous."

Carter's face flushes just like it did the other day. "I'm in protest against heels at the moment, so I hope Vans are okay," she says before her eyes drop to the flowers in my hand.

"Oh!" I exclaim with a chuckle, extending them out to her. "These are for you. I was trying to figure out what flowers to get, but these seemed rather fitting."

"Hmm," she hums, giving me a playful grin. "I wonder why."

She peeks over her shoulder for a moment before looking back to me. "I'm just going to put these in some water and then we can go. I'd invite you in, but I know Ichabod's hair is going to cling to you if you come inside and he rubs on you."

"That's alright, take your time," I tell her with a nod.

She shuts the door, and it's only a minute or so later that she's stepping back out. A thin black cardigan is now on her arms, and she has a purse draped over her shoulder. She locks up her door before facing me. "Ready?"

"Ready," I say, placing my hand on her lower back as we make our way to my car.

I open the passenger door for her, which she thanks me for, and I make sure she's in securely before I shut her in. My hands continue to shake as I head over to the driver's side, and I get in before starting the car up.

I can see Carter looking over at me out of the corner of my eye, and she almost instantly reaches out to take one of my hands off the wheel.

"Why are you shaking so bad?" She holds my one hand in both of hers - lazily intertwining one set of her fingers with mine while the fingertips on the other trace over the back of my hand. "We don't have to go anymore if it's going to make you so nervous, Harry. I don't want you to be-"

"No," I shake my head quickly, squeezing my fingers around hers. "I mean, yes, I'm nervous, but I don't want to not do this because of that. I've just...I'm really bad about getting in my head these days, and I just overthink things. I've been overthinking all day."

Carter frowns, and she brings my hand up - pressing her lips against my knuckles. "If it helps at all, I'm really glad that we're doing this. I've been looking forward to it since you asked on Tuesday."

"Yeah?" I ask, feeling her confession ease my nerves some.

"Yeah," she nods, biting down on her bottom lip.

"I can never thank you enough for agreeing."

Carter's eyes wander over my face for a moment before settling back on my own. "I told you...I've missed you. It's been long enough that I'm okay to let myself be open with you again, and I'm sure we'll touch on that more later, but I just know I'm ready for this. Whatever this ends up being after we talk everything out. Okay?"

"Okay," I bring her hand up to my mouth just like she did to me earlier - mimicking her same actions.

I let my lips rest against her skin a little longer than she did mine before I lower our hands back down. I go to pull my hand away so that I can place both hands on the wheel, but Carter tightens her grip. "Can I keep holding it?"

My heart palpitates in the best way at her question, and I feel warmth in my face. "Yeah, of course."

"Okay, good," she giggles before dropping my hand into her lap.

I bite back a larger smile as I put my car in drive, and I start heading towards the restaurant where I had made us reservations for tonight.

Music plays quietly in the car as we make our way down the road, and Carter and I keep stealing glances at each other as we do so. Eventually she moves her other hand down to completely encompass the one she had already been holding once again, alternating between smoothing her fingertips over my knuckles, and then the back of my hand.

I haven't had contact like this from someone in so long, and it feels nice. The tenderness of her touches makes me feel wanted and comforted all at the same time - two feelings that Carter used to bring me previously before everything went to shit.

Our conversation on the way there was light, just asking how our work week went, and she was telling me about a large back piece she had just finished up on a client.

Once we arrive at the restaurant, I open the passenger side of the car for Carter. Instead of letting me just place my hand on her back, she takes my hand in hers - lacing our fingers together. I stroke my thumb along the back of her hand as we head inside, and I can see that Carter is a bit shocked at the place I've picked out.

"Harry," she says, looking up at me with worry. "This place is so nice, and I'm wearing Vans. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you wanted to wear Vans," I respond, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, they look cute on you, and if they want to say something about them, then I don't want to give them my business anyway."

Carter shakes her head briskly at me as we approach the host stand. "Two for Styles."

The host nods and grabs a couple of menus before we're guided to our table. I smile when I see they've remembered to set it up the way I wanted, with two candles lit in the middle, and two glasses of red wine already poured.

I can hear Carter gasp behind me, but she doesn't say anything yet as I pull her chair out for her to sit.

The host places the menus down as I sit as well, and I thank them before they walk away. I keep my eyes down on the menu that was placed in front of me, but I can feel Carter's on me.

"Harry," she speaks up after a moment, sweetness laced throughout her tone. "Did you have them do this for us?"

I nibble on my bottom lip before nodding. "Yeah, I did. I just wanted tonight to be special. For you...for us."

Carter reaches out across the table, curling her hand around mine. "Thank you so much. This was a nice surprise, and this restaurant is beautiful."

She gives my hand a squeeze before pulling away, and we begin to properly look over our menus.

"What are you thinking?" Carter asks, and I tilt my head to the side.

"I'm eying the pasta pescatore, how about you?"

"I think I'll do the lobster and mushroom risotto," I look up as she twirls a curl around her finger - lips pursed to the side.

I'm completely captivated by the way the candlelight hits her face, capturing her beauty in a way that has my stomach swirling.

After a moment, a waiter comes over with a couple of waters to accompany our wine, and he asks if we're ready to order.

"You first," I say, gesturing my hand towards, and Carter smiles.

We each order our food, and the waiter heads off as we grab our glasses of wine. I clear my throat, my other hand gripping to my knee as Carter's round eyes stare at me.

"This might seem silly, but I just wanted to say a couple of things," I chuckle nervously.

Carter gives me a reassuring nod before sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

"First off, I want to thank you again for saying 'yes' to dinner, and especially having it be a date. I'm really trying to be more straightforward with my feelings in general, but especially when it comes to you now that we've reconnected," I start off, my fingers curling tighter to my glass as I feel I could drop it at any moment. "I also wanted you to know that these past few weeks of getting to see you again have been the best weeks I've had in the past two years or so.

"Like you said before, I know there's still a lot that's left unsaid on both of our parts, but I really don't know what I would do if I lost you again, Carter. Losing you the first time completely changed me as a person, even though I didn't see it at the time. But with that being said, if you realize that this isn't going to work out, and this isn't what you want, then you walk away whenever you want. Put yourself first - always."

Carter blinks at me, and I can tell that I've caught her off guard with my words, but telling her that the ball was in her court when it came to us was something I needed her to know. I didn't want her to let the guilt of knowing I'd be upset to lose her again be the cause of her putting herself into something she didn't want.

"Wow, Harry," she opens and closes her mouth a couple times - clearly trying to figure out how to respond. "These few weeks have been really great for me too, and like I told you, I've missed you. I allowed for this to be a date just as much as you did, so I hope you don't feel like you forced me to label it as that.

As of right now, I'm more than happy with how things are going, but I can't lie to you and say that may change after we really talk things out. I don't think it will, but I just want you to know that's a possibility, okay?"

I move my head in agreement with her words. "Of course, Carter - of course."

I watch her shoulders deflate, as if she's let out a sigh of relief before we're both extending our glasses forward - clinking them together.

"To us," she speaks up first, a large smile back on her face.

"To us."

We each sip our wine, and she hums out in appreciation. "Oh my god, Harry," she licks over her bottom lip. "This wine is delicious."

"Yeah? I went over their selection online, and I tried to pick out what I remembered you liking."

"It's perfect. Thank you."

I watch as she looks around the restaurant a bit before looking back over to me. "Well, I guess now is as good of a time as any to start, huh?"

"If you're ready, then absolutely," I reassure her.

"I should probably start with me figuring things out about my mom and Gwen since that all ties in to how everything happened, especially with us," she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before continuing. "One of the first things my therapist had me focus on was my emotions towards them, but most importantly their emotions towards me.

"She had me write down times throughout my life where my mom yelled at me, which wasn't often, but I came to the conclusion that she only ever did when it involved something with Gwen. Whether it be me trying to play with one of her toys, or if Gwen and I were fighting about her borrowing something of mine when Gwen knew that I would be needing it, my mother always took Gwen's side - even when she was clearly wrong."

Reaching forward, she takes a large sip of wine before she continues. "I also realized that my mom and Gwen have extremely jealous tendencies. So, when the wedding came around, it was such a big thing for Gwen, and the way they treated me just magnified. They wanted it to go perfectly for her, and they didn't want me to ruin it. That's when I became their pin cushion."

I grimace at her use of words, but I know she's not wrong.

"Also, I don't know if Gwen ever told you, but she caught me leaving the groom's suite that day," she places her hands on the table, and I can see they're slightly trembling. "She told me she knew of my feelings for you, that she always did, and she couldn't believe I told you on your wedding day of all days. That's when she said she never wanted to see me again, and for me to stay away from you both. I listened to her because I knew you loved her, and I knew she made you happy, and I didn't want to take that away from you."

My heart aches at her words. Gwen never told me she had seen her after her confession to me. I didn't know that she ever knew that Carter had feelings for me.

"She didn't tell me," I whispered, shaking my head.

"I also need to apologize to you, Harry. I need to tell you sorry for never telling you my feelings sooner, and I also need to tell you I'm sorry for when I chose to tell you about them," I can see tears are now gathering in Carter's eyes, and she takes a minute to collect herself before she's blinking them away.

"I never wanted to tell you about my feelings because I didn't want to ruin what we had, but it seems that's exactly what I did because I waited so long. Maybe if I had just kept my mouth shut, none of this would've ever happened, and I-"

"Carter, I'm going to stop you right there," I butt in, not being able to listen to her blaming herself in this way. "Do not apologize to me for that. I won't let you blame yourself for what happened. There's only one person to blame for our friendship falling apart, and that's me."

Carter keeps quiet as I continue. "I should've never let Gwen keep me from you like she did, and I should've never let her treat you the way she did. Things would've been different if I had put my foot down. If I had refused to let her wedge her way between us, but I didn't do that.

"She fed me lies our entire relationship when it came to you. She knew I liked you, she revealed that to me during our divorce process. Whenever you were out of the house hanging out with Kieran, she told me you were seeing different guys, and I don't know why I believed her. Then she started dropping hints that she liked me. One thing led to another, and it just happened. The last thing she really lied to me about was her trying to contact you after the wedding. She led me to believe that she was trying just as hard as I was to reach you, and in our last big fight, I found out that wasn't the case."

Now I'm the one reaching for my glass of wine, taking two large sips. "I realized in therapy that I never truly lost my feelings for you, Carter. I just shoved them down, and I suppressed them once I started having feelings for Gwen. I convinced myself that they were gone because how could I love two people at once? But, my love for you was never like my love for Gwen. The love I had for you..."

I swallow harshly before I look down at my lap, shaking my head. It's only a second later that I feel the tips of Carter's fingers brushing over my knuckles.

"Tell me, please."

Looking back up, I meet her eyes, and I can tell she's pleading with me to be honest. It was hard to act like I was talking about the past. My love for has only grown more since being around her again.

"It was everything. Even if I didn't think it was reciprocated, and even though I didn't even tell you about it."

Carter opens her mouth to speak, but we're interrupted by the waiter setting out dishes down in front of us. We each thank him, placing our napkins into our laps as we grab our silverware.

"Let's just enjoy our meals for now," I reach out to grab her hand, and I kiss the back of it quickly. "And if we want to talk more later, we can."

"Okay," Carter breathes, and we both begin to dig into our food.

The rest of our time at the restaurant consists of us talking about much lighter topics while stealing bites of each other's food.

Now we're sitting outside of her house in my car, my hand placed on the inside of Carter's knee as she twists my rings around my fingers.

"Is there anything else you wanted to talk about before I head in?" Carter rests her head back against the headrest, looking over at me.

I know that what I'm about to bring up is serious, but it's something that's eaten away at me for too long.

"I didn't want to ask in the restaurant, and you can decline to answer if it's too personal, but it's something that's been weighing on me. Did...did Gwen ever get physical with you when you guys would argue?"

I'm hesitant to look at her, but I'm met with narrowed brows on her face. "I mean, we used to wrestle as little kids, but when we got older, no," she shakes her head. "Why? Did she get physical with you?"

I stay silent as I look down to stare at my steering wheel, and I can hear Carter inhale sharply when I don't answer after a moment.

It's not even a second later that I feel her arms around me, and she's pulling my face into her neck. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispers, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I feel tears welling in my eyes as I lift a hand to wrap around her wrist. I feel her nails scraping against my scalp to comfort me as her other hand caresses my back.

"You didn't deserve that. You'll never deserve that."

We stay in the same position for a while as she continues to comfort me silently before she speaks again. "You know that right? That you didn't deserve that?"

I nod, sniffling as I lift my hand up - pushing the tears off my cheeks with the heel of my palm as I sit back. "I know. I know I didn't deserve it."

"Good," Carter says softly, and I can see the worry behind her eyes as she stares at me.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she grabs her purse that was on the floorboard, and she shuffles through it. She looks back over to me, and that's when I see she has another postcard in her hand. "I had two of these in my bag tonight. I figured this whole thing could've gone one way or the other. "

She extends the card out to me, and I take it from her. I look down to see a line illustration of a butterfly on the front. I know that she did this on purpose because we each have butterfly tattoos, and it has me feeling hopeful.

"Will this quote tell me which way it went?" I ask her with a soft chuckle, and it causes her to giggle as well while she shrugs.

"Flip it over and find out."

Taking in a deep breath, I flip the postcard over, and I read over the quote a few times to really take it in.

"Rewinding time is not possible, but "do-over's" are. Sometimes we get another chance to do something right the second time that we got wrong the first time." - UNKNOWN

I look back over to her after a moment, and her expression is one filled with such kindness that I feel like I could cry again. "In case that wasn't enough to tell you...would you like to come in?"

My eyebrows raise, as I'm a bit shocked that she was asking me to do so, but I didn't give her any time to think that I was hesitating. "Yeah, yes, please," I laugh nervously, and she tilts her head.

"Come on then."

We both get out of the car, and we head up to the door which she unlocks. As we walk inside, she flips on some lights, and I instantly hear small thumps coming from her hallway while we take off our shoes.

"Hello, Mr. Crane," Carter coos as she lowers herself down to pet the petite black cat that's come to greet her. "This is Ichabod."

The image in front of me has my heart completely bursting from how sweet it is, and I follow Carter's actions - bending down to be closer to them both. "Hello Ichabod, I'm Harry."

I hold my hand out, and Ichabod sniffs it for a bit before rubbing back across the front of Carter's legs for a while, but he keeps his eyes on me.

"He's really nice, I promise," Carter says as she continues to rub over his back, and eventually Ichabod makes his way over to me.

I begin to scratch underneath his chin, and behind his ears as Carter stands.

"Do you want some more wine?"

Glancing over, I watch as she walks into her kitchen - loose red curls bouncing as she goes.

"Yeah, I'll have another glass," I tell her, giving Ichabod a few more pets before standing up myself. "Just one is probably good though considering I have to drive."

"What do you think I'm trying to do? Get you drunk so you have to stay over?" Carter looks at me over her shoulder with a shiteating smirk, and I shake my head at her. Knowing that the atmosphere around us has turned playful, I decide to feed into it as well.

"I don't know," I shrug before crossing my arms over my chest as I lean against one of her counters. "Are you?"

Carter hums as she turns back around to grab a bottle of wine out of her wine fridge, and then she walks over to the cabinet housing her wine glasses. "I mean, would you staying be the absolute worst thing in the world?"

My adrenaline perks up slightly at her words, and I quickly clear my throat. "No, I-I don't think that, I just didn't know-"

"Harry," Carter walks over to the counter next to the one I was leaning against - setting the glasses down. "I was just kidding. You didn't think I was that easy, did you?"

Groaning, I look up to the ceiling as I smile.

She's really busting my balls here.

"I'm not used to being one step ahead of you when it comes to picking on each other," she bumps her hip against mine to have me looking down at her again. "I guess I'm making up for all those years you had me blushing like an idiot."

"Yeah, now that's me," I laugh, leaning down to pinch at her waist - causing her to yelp.

Carter eventually uncorks the bottle, and she pours us each a glass of wine as we move over to sit on the couch. Ichabod makes his way over to the cat tree in the corner of the living room, and he makes his way to the top tier - quickly curling into himself and falling asleep.

"He's so cute," I compliment her. "How old is he?"

"Just a little over a year old," she says, looking over to the cat tree for a moment before looking over to me. "I actually found him outside of the shop I was working at while I was gone."

"You're kidding."

Carter shakes her head, swallowing down her sip of wine before continuing. "It was early spring, and it was raining so bad outside. It was chilly, and windy on top of that. I was closing up the shop, and I went around back to throw the trash into the dumpster before getting in my car, and I could hear him crying underneath it after I threw the bag inside.

"I pulled my phone out so I could use my flashlight, and I looked under, and there he was. He was by himself, and shaking, and I knew I couldn't leave him. To be honest, I didn't think I'd have the time to take on a kitten, so I had every intention of keeping him for a few days to get him better before taking him to the shelter. As you can see, I got way too attached and that didn't happen. It worked out for the both of us though. I don't know what I would do without him. He's my little buddy."

"You know it's funny, I had been contemplating getting a cat myself before I ran into you," I tell her. "Now you've kind of convinced me that I need one. The house is so quiet by myself."

"I definitely get what you mean. I've lived alone since I first moved away, and now I couldn't imagine not hearing his little paws on the floors, or hearing him eating his food in the kitchen while I'm sketching at my dining table. You should get one, H," she says, tapping her foot against my thigh. "They're a lot of fun."

"Yeah, I think I might," I say, dropping my hand to wrap it around her foot, running the pad of my thumb over the arch of it. "Would you come to the shelter with me?"

"Of course! I'd love to. Plus, I think I should have a say considering they're going to be around Mr. Crane. I need to make sure they're a suitable candidate for his friendship," she smirks, taking another sip of wine.

"That's fair enough."

It's quiet for a moment before she makes a small noise as she swallows her sip - as if she's remembered something. "Hold on, I'll be right back."

Carter sets her wine glass down on the table, and she slips down the hallway for a moment. I can't help but smile to myself as she's gone - not believing that I'm in her home with her right now, us sharing wine together and talking as if nothing has changed.

This is all I've wanted for so long.

I hear her coming back after a minute or so, and she sits down while passing me a piece of paper. As I study the piece of paper, I see she picks her wine glass back up, and she moves to drape her legs over my lap like she did in the park the other day.

"I drew that while I was in therapy," she said, tapping her fingertips against her glass. "She told me to draw something that provided me comfort in the past, and I came up with this. While I was drawing it, I was thinking of how you used to always hold my hand when we were out with friends if you could tell I wasn't having a good time, or if something was making me anxious. I've been meaning to bring it to show you when we've been hanging out, I just kept forgetting."

My eyes study the drawing, and I wait to ask what immediately comes to mind. "Do you think you could tattoo this on me?"

Carter's eyes look like they're about to bulge out of her head once I look back to her. "What?"

"I really like it, and you drew it perfectly. It reminds me of us too," I nod. "I'd really like for you to tattoo it on me, if you're comfortable with that."

"Harry, you know I'm always more than happy to ink you up. I'm just a little shocked - that's all. I'm more than comfortable with you getting it."

"Maybe in a couple months? I'm thinking on the back of my arm," I tilt my head to the side as I continue to stare at the drawing of two hands holding.

"I think that will look really good, H."

I only intended on staying at Carter's for maybe an hour at the most, but as she indulged in another glass of wine, I decided to stay so she could tell me all about the city she had been living in before moving back home. It was interesting to hear about the life she had without me in it, and I was actually able to listen to her talk about it without feeling a sadness in my chest.

I have her back now, and that's what matters.

Looking over to the clock, I can see it's nearing midnight, and I know it's time to go home.

"Well, I should probably get going," I sigh as I finish up my glass of wine. Only having the one glass at dinner, and then the two glasses here, I was more than fine to drive - especially with pasta sitting in my stomach.

"Oh, only if you're sure," Carter says, setting her almost finished wine down on the coffee table as I stand up. "You're not keeping me up or anything."

"I know, but I don't want to overstay my welcome," I chuckle, walking to set my empty wine glass in the sink in her kitchen.

When I walk back over Ichabod hops off his cat tree and follows me towards the door, circling my feet as he looks up at me.

"I think somebody doesn't want you to leave," Carter giggles as she walks closer to me, fiddling with her fingers behind her back.

"I'm sure I'll see you again soon, bud," I kneel down to give Ichabod a few head scratches before I stand up and look over at Carter. "Do you think that we could do this again?"

"Harry," Carter closes all space between us as she drops her hands to the side. "Have I not made it obvious enough that I more than enjoyed myself tonight? I would absolutely love to do this again."

I let out a small laugh of relief, scratching the back of my neck for a moment while looking down at my feet. Pursing my lips to the side, I look back up at Carter. "Can I kiss you?"

I can tell my request takes Carter by surprise, and I immediately feel like an idiot. "Shit, I'm sorry," I apologize. "I didn't mean to be so forward. You just look so beautiful, and I had such a good time that I thought maybe-"

I'm cut off when I feel Carter's hands cupping my cheeks as she pushes herself on her tiptoes, her taking the complete initiative to have her lips meet mine.

After a moment, I hum in satisfaction, and I drop my arms to wrap them around her. One of them wraps around her waist, while the other curls to the middle of her torso - my hand pressing against her shoulder blades to keep her flush against me. Carter is much shorter than me, and I can tell she's struggling to stay on her toes, so I gently lift her off the floor just a bit using the strength in my arm around her waist - causing her to squeal against my lips.

"Stay," Carter whispers, as she pulls away, her eyes dancing over my face. "Please stay."

My mouth runs dry when I realize exactly what she's saying, and I don't hesitate to give her a nod. "Okay, I'll stay."

Carter smiles, and I reach down to have both arms around her waist before I'm pulling her up higher. She wraps her arms around my neck, and her legs around my hips, as she leans down to reconnect our lips. "Bedroom is at the end of the hall," she mumbles against them.

I follow her orders, carrying her with ease down the hallway until we're in her room. After a few more moments of letting our lips mold against one another, I lower her down so that she's standing in front of me again.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"I'm sure," Carter says as she takes a step back, peeling her cardigan off her shoulders. "Take your clothes off."

My cock twitches in my pants at her words, and it takes a minute for my body to catch up with my mind. I pull my vest off and toss it to the side before I start to undo the buttons of my dress shirt. I watch as she reaches up to undo the ribbon tied at the top of her dress, pulling it so that it loosens, and she's able to slip her arms out of the material. She pauses for a minute with her hand pressed against her chest to still keep her dress up, watching me with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

I shrug my shirt off before I reach down to my pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them - leaving me in just my briefs.

Carter drops her dress, and my breath catches in the back of my throat when I see that her top is completely bare - only a black lace long left on her body. "This...this isn't weird for you, is it?"

I shake my head as I walk forward, my eyes shamelessly roaming over her. I'm taking her all in, as if she could disappear, or like I could wake at any moment - like this was all a dream.

"It's not weird at all," I tell her honestly, and Carter reaches out to wrap her hands around my wrists.

Her head tilts to the side as she moves me around until my hands are on her full breasts, and I sigh as I run the pads of my thumbs over her pebbled nipples. She gasps while throwing her head back - her eyes slipping shut.

Hearing that sound leave her, and seeing that just the smallest touch was bringing her such pleasure, it's like something in me snaps. I walk forward to where she's back against her dresser, and her eyes shoot open.

Carter watches me as I begin to lower myself down her body, pressing kisses to her neck and over her sternum. Once I reach her breasts, I rest the undersides of them in my palms before closing my lips around one of her nipples. She lets out a breathy moan, but we don't sever eye contact. Her hands wrap around the edge of her dresser, her elbows slightly pointed up to her ceiling as I pay the same amount of attention to her other nipple.

"Harry," my name leaving her mouth has me humming against her skin, and she rolls her head on her shoulders for just a moment before her eyes are right back on mine.

Abandoning her chest, I slip all the way down so I'm kneeling in front of her as I kiss over her stomach - hooking my fingers into the sides of her thong. I still hold her eyes, silently asking for permission, and she gives me a nod. I continue to sponge kisses down her body, all while pulling her underwear down at the same time. She's squirming underneath me, and I can tell she's aching for more now.

Once her underwear hit the floor, Carter lifts one leg to step out, but when she lifts the other, I quickly wrap my hand around her ankle - throwing her leg over my shoulder as I toss her underwear to the side.

"Can I taste you, Carter?" I ask, my eyes slipping shut for the first time since I've had my hands on her - the smell of her arousal filling my nose while I latch my lips to the inside of her thigh.

"Please," she whines, and my mouth finds its way between her legs before I can even process. “Oh, god."

One of Carter's hands leaves the dresser to make its home on the back of my head as she arches into me. My tongue is immediately met with her wetness, and I groan at just how much had accrued in such a short amount of time. I lick my way back up until I'm sucking her clit between my lips, and I open my eyes to look up at her.

Her head is back as she pants into the air, her face displaying absolute pleasure as I lift my hand to massage her thigh that's resting beside my head. My touch alerts her, and she looks down at me with pink cheeks.

"Good. 'S so good," she moans deliriously before she tilts her head to the side to rest her cheek on her shoulder - eyes slipping shut again.

I move back down to lap at her dripping entrance before I plunge my tongue inside - teeth scraping over her swollen clit. A strangled, but loud "uh" leaves her as she now curls forward, and the hand on the back of my head is pushing me even further into her core while her other hand drops to grip at my shoulder not cradling her thigh.

Everything about this is causing me to leak profusely into my briefs, and I know that I'm the hardest I've been in a long time. I creep my hand up from her thigh to grip one of the rounds of her ass - feeling her skin pushing through the gaps between my fingers.

"Wait, w-wait," I hear Carter gasp, and I pull away immediately. She sees the look of worry on my face, causing her to laugh breathlessly. "You didn't do anything wrong, don't worry. I just want to make you come twice."

I close my eyes and drop a hand to my briefs to apply pressure to my throbbing bulge at her words - willing away the urge to come right then. After a moment, I feel her slip her leg off my shoulder, pulling my cheek to rest against her stomach as she runs her fingers through the top of my hair.

"Can I do that for you, Harry? Can I have you come in my mouth, and then while you recuperate, you can make me come?" She slides one hand down my back - nails grazing against my skin. "And then when I come, I'll need you inside me, and I hope you'll be hard again. I want you so bad."

I turn my face to kiss along her stomach much like I did before. I'm riddled speechless by her want for me. It had been so long since anyone had talked about me in such a way, and it was causing me to feel so many different emotions.

"Please, baby," Carter whispers, and I slowly feel her lowering her body. I blink my eyes open to see her kneeling in front of me - moving her hands to cradle my face. "Let me make you feel good."

The pet name she uses ignites a fire in me, and I wrap my arms around her to pull her forward - having her thighs straddle one of my own as I press my lips against hers. Her thumbs swipe over my cheek as we kiss, and I tangle one of my hands into the back of her hair. Our lips part to have our tongues rolling against one another which causes goosebumps to coat my skin. We make our way off the ground, but we don't let our lips disconnect as she lays me down on the bed.

My hands wander all over her body as our tongues ebb and flow, and I give her plush hips a squeeze before she's pulling away from me. She runs her lips down my body, and just like I did earlier to her, she starts pulling on the waistband of my briefs.

"Lift your hips," she tells me, and I blindly obey.

Once my briefs are down to the tops of my thighs, my prick springs out and slaps against my stomach - smearing precome onto my skin.

"Shit," Carter's mouth gapes as she stares at me, and I feel myself twitch under her gaze.

She makes quick work of getting my briefs the rest of the way down before pushing herself between my legs. She's knelt down, back arched to have her plump ass in the air - right in my line of vision.

"Fuck, Carter," I whisper, feeling myself leaking even more at the sight. "You're so sexy. I don't think I've ever been this hard."

Carter licks over her bottom lip as she wraps her hand around my dripping cock, her other hand snaking up my chest to rest over one of my pecs - her palm grazing over my taut nipple. She works the hand on my prick up to gather my precome onto her hand before she slicks it down my length. Beginning to pump me, she nuzzles her nose into the trimmed hairs framing my base.

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted this," she tells me, planting kisses all around me.

I try to keep my eyes on her for as long as possible, but the pleasure is overwhelming. If she didn't get her mouth on me in the next few seconds, I was going to end up coming all over my stomach and her hand.

"I can't believe you're even more toned than before," she plants a kiss against my balls, causing my stomach to clench. "So pretty. Everything about you is pretty. You have a pretty face, a pretty body, and a pretty cock."

Her words have me moaning as my toes curl into the fabric of her comforter. I never once would've guessed that Carter was so vocal in the bedroom, and it's causing my head to spin. She was a true vision, and I found myself so lucky to be underneath her at this very moment.

I can't help but slip my eyes shut once her mouth is on my tip, and she lowers herself halfway down my shaft before pulling back up. I find myself biting down on the insides of my cheeks as she kitten licks at my slit - resulting in more precome pouring out of me.

"Carter," I gasp, one hand gripping to the pillow case my head was resting on while the other reached out to wrap her hair around my palm. "I'm not going to last very long right now."

She kisses my tip before I feel her nudge the side of her nose against it. "That's okay. This is about you right now. If you come in five seconds, I don't care."

Carter's mouth closes against me once again, and this time she lowers herself almost all the way down. I feel the tip of her nose against my happy trail as she zig zags her tongue along the underside of my shaft, and I can feel the ball of her tongue piercing pressing against every vein in her wake.

She bobs her head up and down before she presses all the way down, and I feel her swallow around me.

"Fuck," I choke on a moan, squeezing my eyes shut tight as I try to make this last as long as possible. "You're so fucking good at this."

Carter hums in response, causing a vibration up my shaft which has my abs jumping. I now feel my orgasm truly building in my lower abdomen. She pulls up to where just my tip is in her mouth, and I flutter my eyes open to see her looking at me - wiggling her ass in the air. She keeps me stable with one hand, and she parts her lips to show me that my tip is just resting against her tongue.

She shakes her head from side to side for a moment before she focuses on rolling the ball of her piercing over the prominent vein right underneath my tip again and again.

"I'm gonna come," I strangle out, my hand tightening in her hair. "I can't hold it."

Carter holds my eyes as she closes her mouth around me again, and she uses the hand that was holding me in place to start pumping me once more. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I feel myself releasing onto her tongue, groaning out as I buck my hips up subconsciously. It causes a small squeal to leave her, and if I was in the right stand of mind I'd immediately be apologizing, but my brain has gone completely fuzzy. She guides me through my orgasm fully, and I wince in sensitivity as I feel how tight she has her lips against me to make sure none spills out.

My eyes blink open just in time to see her popping off me entirely, and I watch as she swallows - the smallest bit of my come seeping from the corner of her mouth. Her tongue darts out to collect it while she begins to rub her hands up and down the tops of my thighs.

"You okay?" She asks, moving her way up my body so that she's hovering over me.

"I'm more than okay," I laugh, causing one to leave Carter as well. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck. "Come here."

I pull her down to meet my mouth again, and I hum as I taste myself on her tongue. As we kiss, I turn us over to where she's now underneath me. She hikes one of her knees up against my hip while resting her hands on the sides of my neck. Using one hand to hold up the crease of her leg, I dance my other one down between her legs.

I cup her cunt in my hand and give it a squeeze, causing her to gasp against my mouth. Smirking softly, I curl my middle and ring fingers to slip the tips of them through her drenched slit, and I'm almost certain I could already get hard again when she immediately coats my fingers in her arousal.

"You got so wet, Carter," I lick at her top lip before bumping the tip of my nose against hers. "Did getting me off turn you on that much?"

She nods, her hands beginning to roam all over my torso. "Sexiest thing I've ever seen was your face when you came just now."

"You're giving me an ego," I tell her, nipping my teeth against her jawline.

"You deserve to have one," she breathes as I feel her nails digging into my skin.

Swirling my fingertips around her entrance, I let her get accustomed to the feeling before I'm easily gliding them inside of her due to how open she already is for me. She mewls while automatically lifting her hips to meet my fingers, and I help satisfy her even more by tapping against her spongy spot.

"Yes," she whines, her chest now flush against mine - hard nipples grazing my skin. "Please, Harry, don't stop."

"I'm not going to, baby," I assure her, sucking on the junction where her neck and shoulder meet. "Not stopping until your come is covering my fingers, understood?"

"Mhmm," she lets out a high pitched hum as I begin to thrust my fingers in and out of her, making sure to continue curling them every now and again. "I understand."

Carter's heavy breathing fills the room once more as writhes underneath me. I can feel her clenching around me in what seems like intervals, and I know she's probably just as close as I was once she got her mouth on me.

"God, I can't believe I get to have you like this right now," I tell her, testing the waters to see if talking turns her on like it does for me. "Never thought this would be a reality for me. I thought I fucked up so bad that you'd never speak to me again, and now I've got you naked and open for me. I'm the luckiest man in the whole world to be here with you."

She cries out as I drop my hand from her leg to slip between our chests so I can roll one of her nipples between my index finger and my thumb. I can see a sheen of sweat forming on her hairline, and I slip a third finger into her to try to get her to her climax faster - not wanting her to feel like I was teasing too much.

"Harry," she whimpers, opening her eyes to look up at me.

"You're right there, hm?" I ask, tilting my head to the side, and I watch as he nods in response to me. "Come on, flower. Let go for me."

The old nickname I used to call her seems to be what sends her over the edge.

Carter's head tilts slightly back, and I watch as her lips part. A lewd moan starts to escape her as I feel her completely clamp down on my fingers, but I don't take my eyes off her face. She keeps her eyes on me as she comes, her orgasm coating me just like I asked as I continue to ride her through it. She wiggles her hips, as if she's trying to move away from, and that's when I remove my fingers - knowing that she's coming back down.

Her eyes watch my every move as I bring my fingers up to my mouth, sealing my lips around them as I suck them clean. I close my eyes once I have her taste on my tongue again, swallowing down a moan so I don't look absolutely pathetic.

I open my eyes to look down at Carter, and I see her smiling up at me. "Thank you," her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. "That felt so good."

Looking down at the same time, we both see that my cock is about half hard, but I know it won't take much longer for me to get fully there when I know where this is going next. I lower myself down to kiss her body like I had before, and I take the time to really examine her skin.

"You got a lot of new tattoos," I say, giving one of her breasts a small squeeze.

"Mhmm," she hums, wrapping one hand around my forearm that was connected to the hand on her chest - rubbing her palm up and down my skin. "A pretty good amount, I'd say."

Lowering myself down onto her, I begin to press my lips over the ones that I know I haven't seen, whispering 'new' as I do so. It causes Carter to giggle as I locate each one, and she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches me closely, but her smile still shines through.

"I have another," she tells me, tapping me to lift up a bit before she flips over onto her stomach.

I look down and see ink right under the crease between one of her ass cheeks and her thigh. "Also new."

Smirking, I lean down to press my lips against that one as well as she looks at me over her shoulder. I trail my lips up just slightly, biting down playfully on her ass cheek - causing a laughter filled squeal to leave her, and I feel her lightly kicking her feet.

I lift up onto my knees, grasping her hips to flip her over once more, and I feel that I've grown fully hard again.

"You're really sure, Carter?" I ask her, and she nods.

"I've never been so sure about something before. I want you, Harry. Fuck, I need you. I think I'll cry if you're not in me in the next few minutes."

That causes me to chuckle softly. "I'm going to put on some music, is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course."

I stand up from the bed and grab my phone that's in my pants pocket. Flipping through my apps, I locate Spotify and quickly search the song I had in mind. Once I find it, I place my phone on her nightstand before crawling back over her. The intro starts, and my eyes wander over Carter's face before the vocals kick in.

"I get so lost, sometimes. Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart. When I want to run away I drive off in my car, but whichever way I go I come back to the place you are."

"Harry," she whispers as she trails her fingertips down my biceps, and I see tears filling her eyes.

"Don't cry, please," I lean down to press a kiss against each of her cheeks. "It's how I've pictured this moment for so long."

"You mean to this song?"

"To this song," I nod, reaching down to massage her hips in each of my hands. "This is how I felt about you then, and I haven't been completely honest with you because...this is also how I feel about you now too. I meant what I said earlier. You mean everything to me, Carter Adams."

"How are you going to tell me not to cry, and then say something like that?" Carter laughs, but I can hear the tears filling it.

"Sorry, I just needed to let you know," I lean down to press my lips gently against hers before pulling back just slightly. "Do you have a condom?"

"I do, but...are you okay if we don't use one? I have an IUD, and I'm clean. I got checked after my break up, and I haven't been with anyone since," she cradles my jaw in her palms, the pad of her thumb brushing over my lips. "I just really want to feel you."

"I'm clean as well," I nod, running my hands down from her hips to the outside of her thighs to pull her knees up against me once more. "I'd really like to feel you completely too, Carter."

Reaching out, I grab a pillow from the other side of the bed that she wasn't lying on, and I slip it underneath her hips to have her angled up slightly. "Good?"

"Good," she responds, and I can tell that we're both a bit nervous now that we know this is actually going to happen.

With one hand cupping her waist, I wrap my other hand around my length to guide myself to her. I allow my tip to run through her folds to collect her arousal for a moment before I'm pushing inside. My jaw goes slack, and I choke on a groan when I feel just how tight she is around me with me barely being inside.

"Oh," she moans, grasping to the creases of my arms.

I look up from where we're connected to check on Carter, and she gives me a nod - telling me silently to keep going. I'm slow as I continue to push forward, and once I'm completely inside, I hear a flooded whine leave her.

"H-Harry," she says, and she's immediately demanding my attention when I hear how much emotion is behind my name. "I love you."

Those three words that I never thought I'd hear her say to me again, at least not in context, have me crumbling.

My bottom lip trembles as I cup her cheek in my hand. "I love you too, Carter. I love you so much."

Leaning down, I connect our lips in a passionate kiss, neither of us caring as we feel our tears smearing over each other's cheeks. We stay still for a while, hands caressing each other's bodies while our tongues melt together. It was incredible how perfectly we fit together, and my heart was pounding against my chest due to the intimacy that was surrounding us in every way imaginable.

Our mouths separate with a large 'smack' bouncing off the walls, and smiles are immediately pulling at the corners of our lips.

"I'm gonna start moving, okay?"

"Okay," Carter gives my arms a squeeze, and I draw my hips back halfway before allowing myself to fill her to the brim again.

She sighs out, leaning her head to the side to press her lips against my heart tattoo. My eyes catch hers, and she sends me another soft smile. "New," she mumbles against my skin.

That small gesture has a knot forming in my throat again, but I power through. The only thing I want right now is to give her even more pleasure than I did before. I want to show her how much I love her now, and how much I loved her even before.

After a few more moments of letting her adjust, I begin to fall into a rhythm of plunging my slick cock in and out of her weeping cunt. Carter's walls flutter around me every time I'm fully sheathed back inside, and I look down to see her clit all puffy and inviting. I push one of her legs down onto the bed, and then drape the knee of her other leg over the crease of my arm. Moving onto my knees just a bit more, I begin to thrust at a new angle, and her muscles clamp down the hardest they have.

"That it, baby?" I ask, dropping my free hand to rub the pad of my thumb against her clit. I can feel it pulsing, and I know that she's close to another orgasm already.

"Jesus Christ, Harry," she groans, nails digging into my skin as I keep up my pace. "Splitting me open."

Her words have my prick twitching inside of her, and I know that I'm not going to be able to hold out as long as I want to.

I'll just have to make a promise to make it up to her in the morning.

"Yeah? Got you feeling full?"

"So full," Carter shakes her head from side to side, and her eyes are droopy. I can tell she's trying her hardest to keep them open, and on me.

"You feel so good around me, flower," I compliment, licking over my bottom lip. "Prettiest, and sweetest little pussy squeezing me. Can't get enough can you, hm?"

I watch as her body trembles underneath me, and she opens her mouth to say something, but I feel her walls tightening. Looking down, I can see her second orgasm coating my length, and that causes me to start slipping in and out of her even easier than before.

"That's a good girl," I lean down to press my lips to the corner of hers. "You're 's good for me, Carter."

Carter clutches to me, and I allow her to lift her knees to my hips again so that I can be closer to her. I pant against the side of her neck as my feel my own orgasm festering at the bottom of my spine.

"Where do you want me to come?" I ask, and she's quick to press her heels against the small of my back - forcing me to barely move in and out of her now.

"Inside, please," she begs me, and that's all it takes for me to find my second release.

I can't help but bite down on her shoulder as I pump everything I have inside of her sensitive cunt, and I hear her letting out small mewls and whimpers each time I thrust back in. Once I know she's taken everything from me, I collapse on top of her, but I'm mindful not to bare all my weight.

We cling to each other, sharing small kisses and caresses as we come down from our highs. When I finally find the strength, I push myself up onto one of my palms, my other hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Carter's ear.

"I love you," I tell her, and she smiles up at me - corners of her eyes squinting.

"I love you too."

As I hover over the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, I wonder how I could have ever been so stupid to let her slip away the first time, but I have to remind myself that's in the past. Tonight truly marks the new beginning of this relationship, and I know that it'll bring us both nothing but happiness.

I look at her, and I see not only my future, but also my soulmate. Regardless of what happened before, I know one thing is absolutely true - Carter Adams has always been the love of my life.

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