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bealovesmarauders · 1 year

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paper rings // gilbert blythe

or,

the 4 times gilbert blythe fell in love with you, and the 1 time he knew he’d do it all over again

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

gilbert blythe x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k

i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings

a/n: trying something new here! i’ve never used this format (five times // one time- i tweaked it to make it four and one since i’m exhausted) so i hope you all enjoy <3 also fair warning that this is not historically accurate. but i actually spend my summers in PEI (and have for my entire life) so i think my portrayal of the environment at least is good! also, this is rushed as per usual :)

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

one. when he walked you home from school.

the late june air was sticky in the avonlea schoolhouse, clinging to skin, beads of sweat gathering by brows. sunlight spilled through the windows, and even billy andrews couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm to tease anyone in this heat. pinafores too heavy for this weather, the girls gathered in one corner, pretending to read the excerpt mr phillips had picked out for today, but in honesty, you were all just complaining about the summer heat.

“i can’t wait until i have my hair up,” ruby gillis sighed, casting a longing glance across the room towards the boys. “my ribbon does suit my complexion, of course- but it’s much too hot in summer to have my hair down.”

murmurs of agreement spread throughout your little group. “i tried it one time,” whispered anne dramatically, “when marilla was away. it was rather romantic, but the pins hurt a great deal.”

sitting in between jane andrews and tillie boulter, you tried not to zone out. gaze drifting across the classroom, you caught gilbert blythe’s eye from where he was sitting with the boys, and he shot you a quick smile. you gave him a shy one back, and looked away before you could blush. you’d known gilbert forever- his family was close to yours- but something had changed recently, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

mr. phillips finally dismissed the class, and in a rush of rowdiness, the boys all excused themselves from the schoolhouse, whooping and hollering about a potential skinny dip in the wild waves. in a flurry of giggles and secrets, your friends gathered their books and rushed outside (in a rather unladylike manner- but it was summer and the world was their oyster, so who cared). you knew diana was hosting a tea party over the weekend- complete with ice cream, she’d said!- but as far as you knew, there were no plans for tonight, save the beach trip the boys had talked about. trying your best to avoid the heat for as long as possible, you lingered in the coatroom, taking the time to adjust your hat into place. but you weren’t alone, and you startled as a familiar face appeared over your shoulder.

“gilbert,” you said, his name sweet on your tongue. “you’re not going to the beach with billy?”

he shook his head. “i’m not quite in the mood for that today. but i was wondering. do you want- can i- would you like some company on your walk home?”

heart in your throat, you looked at the boy you’d known your whole life. was gilbert blythe asking to walk you home? you nodded wordlessly, and his eyes immediately softened. there was a nervousness you’d never seen in him before, a cautiousness, as if he were treading on eggshells and was terrified to break them. “i- i’d love that, gilbert, thank you.” a smile slowly spread across his face, and you seemed to see him in a new light. noticing the things you hadn’t before. the softness of his dark eyes and the way they sparkled. the gentle curve of his jaw. the way he smelled like rosemary and mint soap and the blythe farm’s apple orchard, mixed with a hint of cinnamon. the way gilbert blythe was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

“great,” he said, finally breaking you out of your reverie. “i wouldn’t want you to get heatstroke, after all. it’d be ungentlemanly of me to let you go home without making sure you’re alright in this heat.”

your stomach erupted with butterflies, and you walked in silence with him as you left the schoolhouse. treading along the path, your footsteps settled into the same rhythm, and eventually gilbert spoke, his voice clear among the songbirds and crickets.

“how’s your family? i haven’t seen them in a fortnight.”

his tone was proper and gentlemanly, but curious and kind. you looked shyly up at him. gilbert was tall, taller than you, sturdy with broad shoulders and a grin that showed off a lopsided roguishness once in a while on his otherwise serious face. you gripped your books a little tighter, trying to focus your thoughts back to the conversation. “they’re good, thanks for asking. mother’s been wondering about you, though. she’s wanted to drop soup off for your father, but wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate it. it’s been a while since you were over, so she doesn’t know if he still likes biscuits or bone broth.”

gilbert scuffed the ground with his boot a little bit, looking down at you contemplatively. “that’s kind of her,” he said. “he’s barely been able to keep anything down, but he likes soup. i’m not sure about the biscuits, but i’d certainly like some. i wouldn’t mind some of your mother’s plum preserves either. i haven’t had much time to go into town for food lately.”

you’d noticed. there were shadows under his eyes, and he’d always been on the lanky side, but since gilbert had taken on more of the farm work you’d observed his cheeks grow more drawn. his muscles had grown, too- another result of all the wood chopping you knew he was doing- but he lacked energy, and your heart ached for the boy. cicadas chirped as you walked in unison through the path, minding the garden snakes slinking through the tall grass, and an idea sparked in your mind as you passed the field signaling close to home.

“gilbert,” you said thoughtfully, stopping in your tracks. “mother was going to make a layer cake today, with raspberry preserves and clotted cream. i’m sure it’s cooled by now. we can have a little picnic, you and i- we have lemonade at home too, that rachel lynde brought us, and father thinks it’s too tart, so he wants to get rid of it. you can bring some home for your father as well. mother wouldn’t mind, i promise- i can make us a picnic basket, and we can sit in that field.”

gilbert turned towards you, and you couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. “i don’t want you to pity me,” he said quietly. “much less drag your family into it.”

“no, no,” you said quickly, fearing he’d interpreted your invitation the wrong way. “just a picnic, to catch up, as friends. we haven’t talked in a while. i miss you.”

he bit his lip. you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “alright,” he said finally. “it’s almost summer, after all. i think- i think i’d like that.”

when you reached your house, your mother was more than happy to oblige, giving gilbert a big hug and fussing over how much taller he’d gotten since the last time she saw him. you cut two pieces of cake and put them on plates in the straw picnic basket along with the bottle of mrs. lynde’s infamous lemonade. your mother even let you bring the crystal glasses used for special occasions- she trusted the both of you well enough to know that you wouldn’t break them. covering up the basket with a red checkered tablecloth, you and gilbert set off again, waving goodbye to your mother and finding a spot in the field where there was a tree with enough shade to sit under. clover and goldenrod and cornstalk bloomed in the field, and the cool, sweet grass tickled the bottom of your dress. gilbert, beside you, leaned back against the tree, his broad shoulder touching yours, and spooned a large amount of cake into his mouth. it was the happiest you’d seen him in months. the thin layer of ruby jelly in between the vanilla layers coloured the cupid’s bow of your lips, and gilbert realized in that moment that he wanted very badly to take you into his arms and kiss you. but the moment was fleeting, and gilbert was left with the idea of love lingering on his mind.

that was the first time gilbert blythe realized he was falling for you.

two. when you showed up on his doorstep in the rain.

rain poured outside, streaking the windows and trickling down the roofs of avonlea’s houses. sorrow hung in the air, and black clothing had dominated the church the day prior. it was not often that avonlea had funerals, and when they were, they were a somber affair, impacting every one of its citizens. especially now. it seemed as though the whole world had watched mr. blythe’s casket descend into the soil, and now the rain was fertilizing it. perhaps flowers would bloom on top of his grave. the entirety of the little town hoped so- anything to bring comfort to the blythe’s only son.

you’d seen gilbert at the funeral, features etched with sorrow, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. but he’d looked resigned as well- putting on a strong face for those who could not. ruby had sobbed hysterically, as had rachel lynde, and even marilla cuthbert had shed a tear. normally, you would have talked to gilbert. you’d been over the day before mr. blythe had died, bringing with you a sweater you and your mother had knit together to help keep him warm. you’d known his health was declining, but it was even more heart wrenching seeing gilbert that way- expression unmoving, body stiff as he accepted the gift. you’d only had a moment with him before mr. blythe erupted into coughs again- a second in which gilbert’s mask slipped and you truly saw the fear plaguing his mind. you’d wished you could have said something to make it all better. but you hadn’t. you couldn’t.

and now you were on his porch, clutching a package of baking soda biscuits and a small posy of forget-me-nots in your hands. you were shivering from the cold rain, and you’d gotten soaked on the way over, but it was worth it. there seemed to be barely any movement in the gray house- you couldn’t spot any candles lit inside from the windows- and you were wondering if gilbert was even here when all of a sudden the door swung open and he appeared.

his expression was unreadable, brown eyes deep with emotion and seeded in sadness. “hi,” he said. “gil,” you breathed back.

after a moment of silence, the words came back to you. “these are for you,” you said, reaching out. your hands were shaking, and whether they were from nerves or the cold, gilbert couldn’t tell. he took the flowers and the parcel from your outstretched hands, almost unsure what to do with them. “they’re biscuits,” you said, mouth dry, trying to fill the quiet. “mother’s baking soda ones. you mentioned you liked them one time, and we were out of plum preserves, but i-”

“thank you,” gilbert said, and although it sounded slightly robotic, his words felt genuine. you looked at your shoes, unsure of what to say next. your parents had always taught you to say “i’m sorry for your loss” to someone grieving, but the phrase felt too unfamiliar. “i- i’ll leave you to it, then,” you stuttered, backing away from the door and turning to go. you didn’t want to intrude- even if he was your friend. because that’s what you were, right? friends. friends visited during difficult times. friends didn’t want to hug all the sadness out of him. but gilbert’s voice cracked when he spoke next, and you turned around.

“no,” he said clumsily. the words are rushed and jumbled from his mouth, and he stumbles over the next ones too. “please. you’re freezing, and soaking wet. come in.”

up until then, you’d hoped you didn’t look that bad. your straw hat had managed to protect the top of your head, but the rest of your hair was stringy and dripping over your shoulders. your cheeks were also flushed, and even in what should have been a moment focused on his own grief, gilbert found himself worrying that you’d catch pneumonia in this weather. he hadn’t expected anyone to visit today, especially not in a rainstorm.

seeing the concern in his eyes, you realized that walking all the way home in a thunderstorm was probably not such a good idea, so you stepped in cautiously per gilbert’s invitation. the house was warm, but everything seemed dim and gray. the door you knew led to mr. blythe’s bedroom was closed, and you could see gilbert’s eyes darting towards it as well, as if he were praying you wouldn’t say anything. gilbert set down the parcel of biscuits on the kitchen table and looked around for something.

“do you have a vase?” you asked quietly. “i can fill it up with water for you. i thought the forget-me-nots would bring a little light.”

gilbert nodded, but sucked in a breath. you turned to him with a questioning look. “the vase,” he said, voice dry. “it’s in his room. mrs. lynde brought some peonies over while he was still sick, and i didn’t take them out. he’s always hated peonies- he thinks they’re too big and bold. but he would’ve loved these.”

you lightly touched the small forget me not bouquet, felt the soft petals under your fingertips. “you don’t have to use a vase,” you replied softly. “a mug will do.” gilbert stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen, and you maneuvered around him, carefully filling up the pottery with water and placing the flowers in it.

he seemed rooted to the floor, even when he focused his gaze on the posy. your glance met his, and the sorrow was evident. gilbert hadn’t cried at the funeral- you’d never seen him cry. but now tears were brimming at the corners of his soft chocolate eyes, threatening to spill over, and in a moment your body overtook your mind and you had wrapped your arms around gilbert in a hug.

for a moment you regretted it. but then he was hugging you back, clutching your arms, holding onto you as if you were his lifeline. and in a way, you were. you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, hear his muffled cries. due to his height, your face was nestled in the crook of gilbert’s neck, and the two of you stayed like that, intertwined, for several long moments.

when gilbert finally pulled away, he knew that for better or for worse, you would be there for him until the day he died.

three. when you exchanged christmas presents in the snow.

to be honest, you hadn’t expected gilbert to come back from the steamer, or trinidad. you’d kept in close correspondence with him, saving the letters he sent you in a special drawer in your writing desk. you memorized his handwriting- the candid tone recalling his tales- the stamps on the envelope. but it still came as a surprise when he’d arrived back.

everything had been awkward at the start, but as soon as gilbert told you all the tales of his travels, you’d slowly slipped back into your old dynamic. there was still a line the both of you were toeing, trying to test out the boundaries between platonic and whatever the two of you were. when you’d met bash, he’d given you a quick wink and told you he’d heard all about you, but other than that, you were positive gilbert just wanted to stay friends. “he can’t love me,” you’d told the avonlea girls a few days prior. “the letters didn’t mean anything, he was just lonely.” but all of them agreed, even ruby- who had been zoning in on moody spurgeon ever since gilbert had left- that there was something more in his words, that it wasn’t all in your head.

and now it was christmas. gilbert, bash, and the shirley-cuthberts had all come for dinner (you’d grown close to anne the past year, and it had taken some convincing but since your father knew matthew so well, marilla had deemed it acceptable). the dinner had been lovely- your mother had brought out all the stops for gilbert and bash- roast goose, scalloped potatoes (island ones, of course), cranberry jelly, chicken pie, spiced gingerbread. flames crackled in the fireplace, biting gusts of wind rattled the windows, and blurred glittery ornaments adorned the pine tree in the center of your living room. dinner was over now, and the adults were gathered around the table and swapping stories of old. anne was there too, heavily engaged in a discussion with bash, but the social aspect was getting to be somewhat exhausting, so you quietly slipped out the back door to have a few moments alone.

in a rather unladylike fashion, you got up and sat on the fence by your house, snowflakes tickling your nose, watching the sun slowly begin to set. hues of pink and orange tinged the sky, and you were surprised you could even see it right now- the weather suggested a cloudy sky. the sound of snow crunching came from behind you, and to your surprise, gilbert was coming towards you. he had his brown cap and his red flannel on, and he looked so cozy that you somehow wished you were cuddled up in his arms. pushing the thought away, you greeted him as he came to sit on the fence beside you.

“enjoying the night so far?”

“quite,” gilbert replied. there was a sparkle in his eyes that danced, one that had been noticeably absent since his father died. you suspected it had something to do with bash’s uncle-like presence, and maybe anne’s too- it was well rumored that he’d fancied her for a while when they’d first met. gilbert looked off into the sunset, puffs of his breath materializing in the cold air, and you shivered involuntarily. he offered you his wool mittens wordlessly, and you gratefully put them on, although they were too big for you.

“oh,” you said, remembering something. he turned towards you, watching you intently as you pulled out a small package from your coat pocket. it was wrapped in festive paper, and you’d written his name on it in swooping calligraphy.

“for me?” gilbert asked. he carefully unfurled the wrapping paper to reveal a small leather bound book embossed with “the complete illustrated medical dictionary (pocket edition)” on the front. “i’ve had it since you left,” you said, breath catching in your throat. “i kept it for you. all this time.”

genuine joy shone in gilbert’s eyes. he flipped through the pages delightedly, marveling at the drawings inside. “thank you,” he grinned. “i actually have something for you too.”

breathlessly, you awaited your gift, snowflakes fluttering down and landing on you. they decorated your hair and its festive ribbon for one fleeting moment before melting, and you swore there was nothing as beautiful as this moment, exchanging gifts with gilbert in the snow, watching the sunset sweep across the dove-gray sky. finally, gilbert found what he was looking for in his pocket, and produced a tiny box.

“it doesn’t look like much,” he warned, “but i found it on my travels. i was waiting to give it to you. i wanted it to be the perfect moment.”

carefully opening the small box, you gasped as the lid revealed a necklace with a pendant. a small silver locket shaped like a heart, the kind one could put a photograph in. “gilbert,” you breathed. “this is- this is beautiful.”

and it was. the locket lay on a delicate chain, and it was engraved intricately, with elaborate designs. your mittened hands fumbled to take it out of the box and inspect it more, but gilbert took it from you with a small smile. “let me help you,” he murmured, and made to fasten it on you. you stood still, hyper aware of how close gilbert’s hands were to your face. his fingers brushed against the back of your neck, securing the necklace, and you caught yourself from flinching. you didn’t know what to say, except for thank you, so you repeated yourself again.

“a thing of beauty is a joy forever,” gilbert quoted, somewhat uncharacteristically. “keats,” he added after a moment, referencing the poet he’d read the phrase from. “i wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

“to remember you by?” you laughed. “what, are you going on the steamer again?”

he could tell the thought sobered you, so he shook his head, shrugging. “no. i just think…you’re a wonderful girl. the loveliest in avonlea.”

“i think you’re wonderful too,” you said shyly, which was about as many words as you could manage right now. the loveliest girl in avonlea? goodness.

the sun had almost set by now, and the sky was turning dark- a good cover for hiding the red tint spreading across your face. “we should go back inside,” you said hurriedly, and the two of you made your way over to the door. you stopped before opening it, basking in the glow of the oil lamp on the porch.

“gilbert, i-”

overcome by sudden anxiety, you handed back his warm mittens. “thank you,” you said, the words lingering on your tongue. “for everything.”

quickly, so fast you almost missed it, gilbert leaned down, brushed a stray wisp of hair away, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “merry christmas,” he said simply. and then, the two of you went back inside, as if nothing had happened at all.

as soon as you entered, bash noticed the locket and smirked. gilbert shot him a warning look, lest he say anything. the two of you immersed yourself in separate conversations- you with anne, him with marilla and your mother, while matthew silently observed your father and bash discuss politics. but you kept stealing glances at each other as if you were speaking a secret language that only the two of you knew, and each time it filled you with comfort.

it was a cold christmas, but you felt the warmest you had been in a while– and, as luck would have it, so did gilbert.

four. when you climbed a tree.

and so summer rolled around again, fading into august. university loomed on the horizon. childhood was over- gone were the days of butterflies, bumblebees, and scraped knees. yet you could pretend, and so you did.

the soft salt breeze tickled your face, sending a pleasant feeling down your spine. you were with gilbert- on his farm, in the orchard. it was just the two of you- most of avonlea were in charlottetown for the island county fair, granting you the opportunity to do whatever you wanted, since no one was around to see.

so you took advantage of that. no more were the stolen glances, the sneaking around, your only physical touch with gilbert being brushed hands- and even then you’d both deemed it risky. neither of you wanted word to get around yet. sure, there had been rumors and some of your best friends knew (only the ones you were sure wouldn’t spread anything around). but here, now, the world was your oyster. and the two of you soaked it up blissfully.

you were lying on the grass with your head in gilbert’s lap, weaving a flower crown as he read a book- an old poetry collection ms stacy had lent him. the clouds were glorious fluffy shapes in the blue sky, and you pointed them out to gilbert every once in a while. your fingers deftly twined the daisies and their stems, finally tying them all together in a knot, creating a perfect circlet, and setting it teasingly on gilbert’s dark hair.

he smirked, leaving it on. “made it for me?”

“a pretty crown for a pretty boy,” you replied, smiling from your position in his lap. he was solid, sturdy, his hand resting securely on your waist. you felt safe with your body close to his, arms and legs intertwined. and he was pretty- “the prettiest boy in avonlea,” you said, mimicking his words to you from last christmas. he laughed and set the book down, taking the flower crown off and resting it gently on your hair. “it suits you,” gilbert said softly, and he was right.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, absorbing each other’s presence. you charted the rare freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose as if they were constellations, tracing them with the tip of your finger. it tickled him, and he smiled down at you. he finally returned to his book- “i want to read you something”- and blissfully, you obliged, settling down to listen.

“i almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days- three such days with you i could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain,” gilbert read from the poetry collection in his lap, a break from the constant medical anatomy books he was usually seen carrying around. you recognized the fragment of poetry- “keats,” you said, “just like what you said to me last winter. when you gave me the necklace.”

a smile tugged at gilbert’s lips, and you pulled out the locket from under the neckline of your dress to show him. “i’ll never take it off,” you promised him, right then and there. “it’s like a little piece of you with me, all the time.”

“you better not,” he teased. “cost me a fortune, that one. even more than all of those romance books i’m always secretly buying you in town.”

you sat up and shoved him jokingly, tousling his dark curls to purposely peeve him. gilbert’s hair wasn’t tidy all that often, but he’d let it slip once that he always tried to make it look nice for you. struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, you jumped up. “let’s go pick some apples.”

the blythe orchard was infamous for their strawberry apples, the only place in avonlea where they were available. contrary to popular belief, this was simply a variant of apple, and not a strawberry hybrid. all too happy to appease you, gilbert took your hand and led you to the best tree on the land. most of the other boughs were still blooming with apple blossoms, but this tree was different.

he pointed to a low-hanging branch, one blessed with red fruit. “my father always picked the first apple on this tree in august,” he told you, tone contemplative and wistful. “he said this was the tree he kissed my mother under for the first time. he thought if the first apple of the season was picked here, at this tree, it brought the harvest luck.”

nostalgia flickered in gilbert’s eyes, and you knew he was missing his father more than usual. “let’s do it, then,” you said, finding your voice, fingers delicately intertwined with his- giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “we’ll each pick one. in honor of him. a new tradition.”

the words you’d spoken may have been simplistic, but to gilbert they meant the world. without his father, it had been so incredibly difficult at first to do anything- carry on old traditions, much less creating new ones. but here you were, by his side, looking up at him with adoring eyes, and giving him the opportunity to heal and grow. gilbert knew he could never put into words how much it truly meant to him.

you let him go first, watching him scamper up the tree like a squirrel. he seemed a boy again, plucking an apple from the highest bough and descending nimbly. when you started climbing, you found your footing easily, but doubt wracked your mind- imagine the horrors if mrs. lynde and her posse heard about this, climbing trees like a chimpanzee! - and so you opted for a lower branch, reaching it deftly. you reached for an apple and held it high victoriously. some hint of pride shone in gilbert’s eyes.

“to making new traditions,” he said- a toast with the notable absence of glasses brimming with champagne. “to making new traditions,” you repeated, and in that moment, you in the tree and him on the ground, you swore you could see hints of a future- one with new traditions and old traditions, little feet running around and everything in between. today was flawless.

and it would’ve been perfect, except for the sound of the branch cracking under your weight. you weren’t too high up in the tree, but inevitably, you landed on the ground, a crumpled heap of petticoats and ribbons, crying out softly upon impact.

you’d never seen gilbert this way, in ‘doctor mode’, simply put. he was immediately beside you, voice laced with concern, checking you over for scrapes and bruises. you were fine, mostly- just a little shaken up and scared, save for the red-hot throbbing in your wrist. the pain didn’t exactly warrant crying, but you weren’t used to the funny feeling, and tears welled in your waterline anyways. gilbert, telling you to take deep breaths, helped you sit up.

he’d noticed straightaway the way you held you wrist, cradling it slightly away from your body, and murmuring words of comfort, he started prodding your knuckles, gently examining the swollen area. you winced, but it wasn’t too bad. “i don’t think it’s broken,” gilbert said finally, deeming it a sprain after careful inspection. “but let’s get you back home. i have some bandages- i’ll wrap it just in case.”

tears threatened to spill over again as the two of you walked from the orchard to his home. gilbert noticed, and stopped. “hey,” he said softly. “it’s okay. i’ll make you some herbal tea. that should help with the pain a bit.”

“it’s not that,” you made out, a small pout forming on your lips. “we were having such a wonderful day, gil, and i ruined it all. i’m sorry.”

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, his brow furrowing. “you didn’t ruin anything. you got hurt, it happens. and we have the rest of the afternoon to be together- i’ll tell you what, how about once we get back to the farmhouse, we’ll make the most of it, okay? we can still have some fun.”

a wobbly smile formed on your lips, and you nodded. gilbert cupped your face gently, and looked into your eyes. “i love you,” he said, voice nervous but firm. “just let me take care of you.”

your heart caught in your throat. he’d never said that before. contrary to the rumors, he hadn’t even kissed you properly yet. “i love you too,” you whispered, voice hoarse. and before you could think about it too much, you went up on your tiptoes and pressed a small kiss to gilbert’s lips.

they were soft and sweet and filled with promise and hope, and he leaned into it, your bodies closer than they’d ever been. his hands ghosted the small of your back, your hips, your shoulders, and it felt like home. when you finally pulled apart, there was a twinkle in his eye you’d never seen before. a twinkle of something called joy.

when you got back to the farmhouse, he finally settled you on the couch, comfortably sipping a cup of tea and trying wholeheartedly to braid your hair. he’d always wanted to learn, and since you were currently unable to do it yourself, he deemed it the perfect opportunity. it made you laugh- his fingers, usually nimble and clever, were clumsy in your locks, and the braid you ended up with was slightly sloppy, but filled with adoration. a realization fluttered through your mind, and set its claws into your future. you loved gilbert- gilbert loved you- and though you wouldn’t say it out loud, at least not for several years, he would make a wonderful husband.

five. when you said “i do”.

the spring skies were blue today- flowers were blooming- grass was green. “a lovely day for a wedding,” mrs. lynde had told marilla that morning, and all of avonlea agreed.

you were walking down the aisle in a few minutes, getting ready in reverence. a delicate white veil lay on your hair, the one passed down through your family for almost a century. the lace dress fit you perfectly, intricate embroidery accentuating your waist. your mother’s simple pearl earrings adorned your ears, glowing in the morning light. in your hands were a bouquet- a single spray of forget-me-nots, periwinkle blue, an ode to gilbert’s father, who had loved them so. and at the same time, a tribute to your past together, that awful rainy day after the funeral filled with grief and tears and emotion, yet what had brought you closer together. something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. all was well. you were ready.

the springtime realm of gilbert’s yard was immersed in devotion. petals decorated the grass down the aisle. your dearest friends and family observed, and the wedding itself passed in the blink of an eye. there was not a dry eye during the vows, and gilbert’s words were even more poetic than you had ever hoped. he promised to love you- to care for you- in sickness and in health, to be your rock. it was not the fanciest wedding- there were no messes of tulle and satin and roses- but it was yours, and you couldn’t be happier.

you were husband and wife. the dawn had come anew. and that night, when gilbert fell asleep watching you breathe, finding solace in the rise and fall of your chest, he knew without a doubt that he would do it all over again.

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myfavoritesstuff · 22 days

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Hi, How are you doin?

May I request a fluffy cuddle scenario/oneshot with Andrew where they're talking before drifting off cause both of them have a bit trouble sleeping? Hmm.. and maybe a little nsfw at the end? Thank you!

“Yes, We Really Do”

Pairing: Andrew Graves x Reader

Prompt: Falling asleep isn’t always easy, but don’t worry, Andrew is there to help.

Note: This does have smut! Ooc Andrew (a bit). This is kind of short but I probably will rewrite it later and make it longer. NOT PROOFREAD

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting a warm light over the figures nestled under the covers. Andrew Graves, with his tousled hair and sleepy eyes, lay on his side facing you, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered, his voice a soothing balm in the quiet of the night.

You shook your head, the day's worries still buzzing like distant bees in your mind. "It's one of those nights," you admitted, feeling the weight of exhaustion without the sweet release of sleep.

Andrew reached out, his hand finding yours under the sheets, fingers intertwining with a comforting familiarity. "Let's talk about something nice then," he suggested, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

You thought for a moment, the presence of Andrew beside you already easing the tension in your shoulders. "Remember the day we spent at the beach last summer?" you started, a fond memory surfacing amidst the sea of thoughts.

A soft chuckle escaped Andrew's lips. "How could I forget? You were determined to build the biggest sandcastle the shore had ever seen."

"And you were determined to help, even though it kept collapsing," you added, the memory bringing a smile to your face.

The conversation flowed easily, each word a stitch in the fabric of your shared comfort. As the conversation fades into comfortable silence, you lean your head against Andrew’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. His fingers start to trace gentle patterns along your back, sending shivers down your spine. You snuggle closer, seeking comfort and warmth in his embrace.

After a few seconds of listening to his heartbeat, you look up. Andrew’s eyes sparkle with love and adoration as he leans in to press a soft kiss against your lips. Then another. And another. And another. You giggled a bit as he kept lightly kissing you, moving from your lips to all over your face.

The more he kissed you, the more intense the kisses became. Each one lasted longer than the previous one, and each one had a bit more passion to them. His breathing soon became strained, as he whispered to you.

“I know something that would help us sleep”

You immediately knew what he was referring to and became flushed but you didn’t pull away.

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Your walls clenched, as you felt him grinding against you. Slick coaxed your entrance and you felt yourself start to lose focus on what was happening. He seemed to notice and called out to you.

“Hey, keep your eyes on me, okay?” You nodded just as he slipped into you. His thrusts had your breath hitching while he groaned in pleasure. You tried raising your hips, only to have one of his hands push your hips back down. “Let me do all the work tonight. You deserve it.”

He then leaned down and placed wet kisses against your chest and collarbone causing you to shiver. His kisses soon traveled upward, and he ended up placing a few along your jawline.

His thrusts soon became more frequent, each one having both of you grow closer to the end. Exhaling in short breaths, you wrapped your legs around Andrew’s waist pulling him even closer to you.

Your vision then became blurred as you felt yourself release, crying out when Andrew’s thrusts didn’t stop. “You feel so good” Andrew’s voice cut through the air, “you don’t know what you do to me.”

“Andrew” you called out his name, looking directly into his eyes, “make me yours.”

With that he let out his own sound, one that was as sinful as it was beautiful. He then pulled out leaving you to flinch at the feeling.

Wrapping his arms around you, you let out a pleasant sigh as he pulled you in.

“How are you feeling now?” He asked, voice gentle.

“I’m good, I’m happy that I got to spend tonight with you like this.”

“Me too… me too.”

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“Ugh! Andy! Y/n! Why did you guys have to next to my room?!” Ashley called out in frustration. You were standing next to Andrew as he tried to explain.

“Y/n had trouble falling asleep and besides where did you expect us to do it? Out in the living room?” As the two bickered back and forth, you giggled at them, causing them to look your way. Andrew’s eyes softened and he smiled as he turned to give you a hug and kiss on the cheek. Ashley just groaned and looked away in disgust.

“You really love each other, don't you?” The two of you looked at each other and smiled.

“Yes we really do.”

#andrew graves x reader #andrew x reader #andy and leyley #the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew and ashley #ashley graves #tcoaal #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #fanfic smut #request #andy graves #leyley graves

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stellar-constellations · 2 months

Text

Star Patient: Chapter 3 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 8,650 words (a big chapter since the next chapter will take some time to complete).

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, current chapter, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (in the works)

Andrew’s brain surgery to drain the excessive blood was a success! Andrew felt loopy from all the twilight anesthesia they injected into him so he was asleep during the surgery, but he’s no longer suffering from double-vision, maybe soon he can start remembering things again.

Andrew locked his wheelchair in place and refused to move from the hallway. He was dead set on waiting for (Y/N). Any nurse or doctor that tried to come near him to bring him back to his room (or get him out of the way) would be slapped away and assaulted with the most vile curse words that would make a nun have a heart attack. Whenever Andrew heard footsteps coming, he’d look over, eyes sparkling in excitement, before dropping once noticing it wasn’t in fact (Y/N).

Another set of footsteps could be heard walking down the hallway. Andrew looked over and resisted the urge to smile or seem excited that she came.

“Hi, Andrew! Sorry I’m late. I was watching the infants until the NNP came back.” (Y/N) explained.

God, he loved how she said his name. Did it have to do with how damn cute she was, or was her voice really just that enchanting?

“How do you feel? Tired? Dizzy? Loopy? Hungry? Thirsty?” she questioned, bombarding him with questions.

“Mm.” Andrew shrugged his shoulders, resisting the urge to wince, but failing.

“Oh, does your head hurt?" (Y/N) questioned. "Oh, well obviously it must! You had surgery!” she commented, realizing how stupid her question was.

“It just hurts a bit…” Andrew muttered.

“Let’s get you back to your room, then I’ll give you some painkillers.” She spoke.

Andrew unlocked his wheelchair and started rolling away without (Y/N)’s help, stopping in front of her with a pointed stare glare as if to say “are we leaving yet?”

“Oh! You got the hang of it. Good job, Andrew!” (Y/N) praised, causing him to advert his eyes and huff.

“It’s not a big deal… It's a pretty easy thing to learn.” Andrew explained, ignoring how his heartbeat increased.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You did it all on your own in only a few minutes, and you learned how to turn the wheel! That’s impressive!” (Y/N) smiled, only causing Andrew’s face to get more red.

“Are you done?” Andrew huffed.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get going.” She chuckled. “Follow me.”

Andrew didn’t exactly trust her sense of direction, especially considering earlier’s wild goose chase, but Andrew didn’t mind getting lost with her—it meant he got to spend a little extra time with her.

“Before we go to your room, do you mind if I make a quick stop to a friend?” she questioned as they entered the elevator together.

A friend? Andrew thought, a sore and red hot bubble starting to simmer in his chest. Who the hell is it?

“Her name is Hailey. She has cancer so please be nice to her. She doesn’t have many visitors anymore so maybe you two could be friends!” (Y/N) cheered, excited at the possibility of the two of them getting along as she pressed the second floor button.

At least it’s a girl. Andrew thought, the bubble of jealousy losing its fire-like temperature, but still having a bit of flame to it.

They exited the elevator when the doors opened and strolled down the hallway, (Y/N) stopping at a door and knocking on it.

“Come in.” A girl, Hailey, spoke.

She opened the door, keeping it open for Andrew to wheel his way in before she shut the door behind them.

“Hey, Hails. I have a friend of mine I’d like you to meet. He might have a grumpy face, but he’s nice when you get to know him.” (Y/N) teased.

Andrew shot her an unimpressed glare as he looked at her, before redirecting his attention to Hailey.

“Hi…” he muttered, not quite interested in the conversation.

“Hello…” she whispered shyly.

With how long it’s been since she’s socialized with anyone except the nurses, she’s most likely insecure of her appearance. This is a good opportunity for her to re-learn how to make friends and have confidence, and now Andrew has someone he can visit and talk to when I’m off of work. She thought to herself.

“Andrew, this is Hailey. Hailey, this is Andrew. I hope you both can be good friends.” (Y/N) introduced, a smile on her face.

Fat chance. Andrew thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

They both stared at each other awkwardly before (Y/N) spoke up.

“So, Hailey. How is the book so far?” she questioned.

“I’m interested in it. I don’t understand why Nora wants to die though.” Hailey spoke.

“Oh, I see.” She nodded. “This is one of my favorite books to recommend. After reading it, it really makes you look at life in a different perspective. Nora wants to die because she lacks happiness, or fulfillment, in her life. She hasn’t found a motive in her life to carry on because she’s so caught up in her own burdens and feelings.”

“But why is she sad? She gets to go outside and live.” Hailey questioned, genuinely confused.

Nora has what Hailey doesn’t, and Nora’s taking it for granted. (Y/N) thought to herself, understanding what Hailey means.

“Do you want a simple definition or the long one? Like, science or no science.” (Y/N) questioned, taking a seat on Hailey's bedside Andrew silently huffing and glaring as she did so.

“No science.” Hailey smiled.

Hailey prefers subjects that are sugarcoated, they’re much easier to understand. She is ten, so (Y/N) supposes that's understandable.

“Well, Nora is missing something in her life, but she doesn’t know what it is yet. Everyone is made differently. She is sad because she doesn't have anymore passions in her life because she never stuck to pursuing them, and she felt like she couldn’t confide in anyone.” (Y/N) explained. "Humans are social creatures, we need communication and care from others in order to functional normally. Nora doesn't have that, or at least, she has very little of it."

“So Nora wants to die because she doesn’t know what she’s missing and she's alone?” Hailey questioned.

“In a way, yeah.” (Y/N) nodded. “Because she’s so sad, she’s not even trying to live the life she was given. When people are as sad as Nora, they don’t eat or shower or take care of themselves because it all feels meaningless.”

Why does that sound familiar? Andrew thought to himself.

“I understand now.” Hailey nodded.

“Andrew, do you like books?” (Y/N)questioned, the two girls directing their attention towards him.

“I’m not too sure. I don’t read much.” Andrew answered.

“Maybe you just haven't found a good book yet. What genre movies do you like?" (Y/N0 questioned.

Movies? He just watched whatever was on the TV when he was locked in that apartment, but he was so hungry that he didn't have the willpower to actually focus on what was on the screen half the time.

"I don't know... anything really..." Andrew mumbled.

"Let's find a book genre you like! We'll start with Hailey." (Y/N) smiled. "Hailey, do you have any suggestions for him to read?"

"Maybe... The Outsiders?" Hailey suggested at a moment of thought, a bit hesitant but starting to warm up just slightly with the new presence in the room.

But what about your special pick for me you said you'd give? Andrew complained inside his head.

"The S.E. Hinton one?" (Y/N) questioned.

"Yes." Hailey smiled.

"Oh, that's a good one. My favorite character was Sodapop." (Y/N) commented.

"I liked Darry. He was smart and cool." Hailey chimed in.

"What about the book you wanted to show me earlier? The one specifically picked out for me for when I get out of surgery?" Andrew questioned, not exactly caring if it sounded rude to reject Hailey's suggestion.

"Oh! Yeah. The book is called Eye of the Minds by James Dasher. He made the Maze Runner series if you had seen the movies." (Y/N) explained. "It's a sci-fi. I figured we could give that a try and see if you enjoyed it."

"I remembered when you showed me that book! The main protagonist was funny." Hailey commented.

Andrew briefly wondered how long these two spent together everyday. The more he thought about it, the more he started to get jealous again. By now his headache was subsiding while his anger just grew.

I never thought I'd be jealous at a little kid... he thought to himself. ...Why even am I jealous?

"(Y/N)..." Andrew sighed, succeeding in gaining the nurse's attention. "My head still hurts and I'm tired." He spoke.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Andrew. I was excited to hear Hailey's input to the book. I didn't mean to neglect you." (Y/N) spoke, immediate guilt forming in her chest as a frown drew on her face.

I didn't mean to make her feel bad... Andrew thought to himself, resisting the urge to sigh.

"I'll see you later, hails. I'm going to take Andrew back to his room. I'll make sure to visit before leaving today." (Y/N) spoke, waving to Hailey as she opened the door for her and Andrew.

"Okay." Hailey nodded, returning the nurse's wave as she watched them leave and shut the door behind them.

"I didn't mean to ignore your pain, Andrew. I'm a bit of a scatterbrain, but that's no excuse." (Y/N) sighed, walking with Andrew to the elevators.

"It's okay. You didn't mean it..." Andrew murmured.

"I won't do it again." She promised, a smile on her face as she and Andrew made it to the elevators and got an open one, walking into it.

She pressed the fourth floor button and waited for the elevator to go. Even if she was growing to enjoy Andrew's company, she did feel a little uneasy being in the same elevator as him all alone.

"So, Andrew. Do you have any favorite shows?" she questioned, trying to make small talk.

"..Huh?" Andrew voiced, confused on where that came from.

"I'll be seeing you pretty often now. I want us to build a connection." She explained. "A good way to do that is finding out each other's likes and dislikes."

Andrew huffed, ignoring the warmth in his chest that her confession made him feel. They walked out of the elevator and down the hallway, stopping at the staff's room.

"I don't really like anything." Andrew admitted.

"I refuse to believe that. We'll find something!" she smiled, determined. "Wait here a second." She instructed, pulling her lanyard from out of her shirt and grabbing her keys, unlocking the staff door.

"Hi, Penelope." (Y/N) greeted once seeing the female present.

"Ah. Hello, (Y/N)!" Penelope cheered, her strawberry blonde hair swaying as she stood up from her seat. "How was patient 402? Did he-" she looked behind (Y/N) and made an "eek!" sound, backing up.

"Don't worry about him, just taking him back to his room. I had to grab painkillers first though." (Y/N) spoke, unlocking the medicine cabinet grabbing a pill bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of water.

She grabbed a napkin and opened the pill bottle, putting two small tablets on the cloth. She walked over to Andrew with the napkin and water.

"Here, Andrew." She spoke, gently grabbing Andrew's hand and placing the pills in his palm.

He accepted it and put them in his mouth without any hesitation. (Y/N) opened the water and tilted his head up, bringing the water bottle to his mouth, just in case he couldn't hold it on his own because of the weakening limbs from the surgery's sedation. He took greedy sips before tapping her hand, allowing her to move the bottle and screw on the lid.

"There you go." She cooed. "Good job."

Why is she so much better at this job than me? She's a student! Why is my patient so trusting of her? Penelope thought. Aw, they look like such a couple! They're both so attractive too! This is too embarrassing!

Instead of doing what Penelope was thinking, she just spoke her mind.

"W-wow..." Penelope muttered, utterly confused, shocked, and a bit flustered.

"What?" (Y/N) questioned, turning to look at the young nurse.

"Ack! Nothing!" she exclaimed, her face red as she covered her eyes with her hands.

"Pen, are you feeling okay?" (Y/N) questioned, taking some steps towards Penelope. "Did you get enough sleep? Do you need food? Water?-"

"N-no thanks!" she shouted, her face growing even redder at the thought of (Y/N) tilting her head and nursing her with a water bottle instead.

Andrew understood immediately what was happening as he watched the two interact.

Damn that nurse... Andrew thought to himself, glaring daggers at Penelope from behind (Y/N)'s shoulder.

(Y/N) jumped, moving back a little, completely dazed and confused as she looked at the nurse.

THAT'S SO EMBARRASSING! Penelope screamed instead her head, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball and scream her heart out.

Penelope has a problem with loving people too much. It's one of the reasons she became a doctor, to find someone in need and nurse them with her medicine and love. Unfortunately, she's a very shy person and stresses too easily, so her bursts of lovesickness can sometimes be too much for her heart and mind (it's one of the reasons Ruby from day shift can't stand her).

"Okay...?" (Y/N) spoke, hesitantly. "If you need any help, call me. Okay?"

Penelope nodded quickly and spoke, quick to have the pair leave. "I understand! Bye now!"

Penelope shoved (Y/N) out of the room (Andrew just about ready to stand up and fight her, if it could walk, that is). Penelope locked the door behind them both as (Y/N) looked back, confused.

"Huh, that's a little more of a panic attack than usual..." (Y/N) muttered to herself. "Okay, Andrew! Let's get you to your room." She smiled, acting as if nothing happened.

(Y/N) walked down the hallway and grabbed a security guard that was stationed nearby, having them pick up Andrew and place him in his bed since she wasn't strong enough (she worked with picking up kids, not adults).

"Alright, Andrew. You're probably really tired after your surgery. I'll leave you be." (Y/N) explained, watching as the security guard left.

Just before she leaves, Andrew spoke up.

"Will you be back later?" Andrew questioned, hesitant as he hid his flustered face by turning his head to the side, away from her view.

"Of course! You can't get rid of me that easy, ya know?" she smiled.

"Great..." Andrew sighed, not-so-sarcastically as he wished.

"Oh, before I leave. Make sure you're behaving with the other nurses, they're only trying to help you." (Y/N) lightly scolded.

I don't want their help. I want yours... Andrew thought to himself, resisting the urge to grimace at her words.

“Ah, and before I forget too!” she gasped, reaching into her medical back and grabbing a book. “This is a sci-fi dystopian. You might like it! If not, no worries. We’ll find a genre for you.” She spoke, placing the book on his nightstand. “Don’t worry about reading it right now. Just sleep.”

Andrew looked at the book, then her, before nodding.

(Y/N) left the room and shut the door behind her, letting out a sigh.

What do I do now? she thought to herself. Today feels so slow... I guess I can go back to the clinic and see what Doctor Ryan's doing. Or maybe I should go check on Penelope? She was panicky today.

(Y/N) decided to check out Penelope and see what's up with her. (Y/N) is aware of Penelope's random bursts of lovesick confessions (Penelope has gotten into too much trouble with HR because of it, so everyone in the hospital knows about it), but (Y/N) had never really seen it take ahold of her that bad. Usually Penelope resorts to compliments (and light stalking), not full on shutting her brain down and panic.

Did she find a new crush? (Y/N) wondered.

Ever since (Y/N) became a student studying general pediatrics here at the hospital, she’s had her fair share of taking care of a patient every once in a blue moon for the psychiatric brand in case a nurse had a emergency and needed to leave. She met Penelope when Ruby had to leave because her daughter was in labor, and the usual nurse that took over Ruby's patients for the night shift had come up with the flu. (Y/N) had taken over Ruby’s patients that night and met Penelope, Penelope explaining what (Y/N) would have to do as a psychiatric nurse for the day.

That was four months ago. They can technically be considered friends but they have the habit of being a little distant, though it’s slowly fading away ever since they agreed on hanging out every Saturday. Their Saturdays consisted of shopping and running errands together since it’s a day they’re both off.

(Y/N) walked back down to the staff room and unlocked the door, finding Penelope on the table face-down.

“Are you okay?” (Y/N) questioned, standing a good distance from Penelope in case she needed some space.

“How do you do it?” Penelope questioned, lifting her face off the table.

“Do what?” (Y/N) questioned.

“How can you be so calm with such cute guys?!” Penelope shouted, balling up her fists as her face went red.

Does Penelope have a crush on Andrew? (Y/N) thought to herself.

Her stomach twisted in either disgust or anger, probably both. She felt like throwing up as she thought about Penelope and Andrew together.

Andrew was supposed to be Penelope’s patient, but (Y/N) swept him away from her after caring for him one day. Penelope had worked day shift that day since she was taking over one of the day nurses shifts because they were taking the day off for her son's graduation, so Penelope switched shifts with them for the day and worked their day shift, resulting in working with Andrew. However, apparently Andrew didn't like her care enough, or perhaps (Y/N) just has a more calm aura around her compared to Penelope. How she won Andrew over, she’s not sure, but he chose her. He chose her, not Penelope.

“Ah, well… I guess I’m just really good at hiding what I feel?” (Y/N) smiled, feeling her polite smile twitch.

“I’m hopeless. How can I ever find someone to love if I just freak out like this...?” Penelope sighed.

“There, there, pen. I’m sure you’ll find someone one day.” (Y/N) comforted her, patting Penelope’s shoulder.

Yes, not today or tomorrow. Not Andrew. (Y/N) thought to herself.

“What will I do without you?!” Penelope cried, throwing herself on (Y/N) and hugging her tightly as she wept into her chest.

(Y/N) resisted the urge to push Penelope off her. This was seriously unprofessional and she's certain if one of her coworkers (or worse, her superior and trainer Doctor Ryan) walked in, they'd possibly be sent to HR for how this may look. As much as they’re decent-ish friends, she’s not on the hugging level yet, but she doesn’t want to push Penelope off in case Penelope starts crying about that instead.

“Aw, pen. You’re too pretty to be crying about boys! Your eyeshadow is getting ruined.” (Y/N) spoke, diverting the subject.

“Aw jeez! Look what I did! I’m such a klutz…” Penelope sniffled, grabbing her phone and opening the camera to selfie-mode. “Aw! It was my good eye too! That took forever to even out.”

“How about I help you fix it?” (Y/N) offered.

“You’re the best.” Penelope smiled, wiping the tears out of her eyes, only smudging her eyeshadow worse on both sides now.

“Don’t mention it. Do you have the makeup on you?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yep.” Penelope spoke, cheering up as she grabbed her makeup purse from her staff locker.

She sat down on the staff room table and handed the bag to (Y/N), allowing the girl to look through her most prized possessions that kept her feeling cute and confident.

(Y/N) found an eyeshadow box and opened it, browsing the colors and looking for the right one Penelope had smudged all over her.

“Cute colors.” (Y/N) commented, adoring the light shades of pinks and nudes.

“Thank you.” Penelope blushed, watching as (Y/N) grabbed a small bag of makeup wipes and opening them.

(Y/N) grabbed a wipe and scooted closer to Penelope, grabbing her chin and angling it down so (Y/N) could see better. Penelope ignored the blush rising in her face and her heartbeat increasing, instead opting to close her eyes to ignore the closeness the two shared as (Y/N) wiped the makeup off Penelope’s face.

(Y/N) noticed the blush on Penelope’s face and decided it’d be best not to acknowledge it or tease her. The first time (Y/N) noticed Penelope’s blush when they first met, she made a joke about it that left Penelope speechless around her for a few days. (Y/N) would rather not experience that awkwardness again.

If anybody walked in right now, (Y/N) prays that it’s anybody but a manager or Andrew. With how close they are right now, anyone would get the wrong idea.

She wiped off the remaining makeup before grabbing a small brush and dabbed it in the light pink shade Penelope applied earlier, fixing her eye makeup. It took a few minutes before (Y/N) finished it.

“Ta-dah!” (Y/N) cheered, resisting the powerful urge to say “you were my star patient today, have a sticker.” (It’s grown in her vocabulary now).

“Thanks.” Penelope smiled, grabbing her phone and admiring herself in the camera.

“No problem. I’m going to get back to the pediatric branch. If there’s any problems make sure to come find me.” (Y/N) explained. “Oh, we're still meeting up tomorrow, right? Think about what doughnuts you want! See you later!” (Y/N) waved, quickly shutting the staff door without waiting for Penelope’s farewell.

Now that that’s all out of the way… I should get back to Doctor Ryan. (Y/N) thought to herself.

There was a lingering feeling dwelling inside of her. She still felt sick, like kneeling down and spilling her guts out on the floor. Her chest still bubbled with anger, feeling as though steam is escaping through her ears.

It’ll probably take all night for me to calm down. (Y/N) figured, letting out a sigh. What was I angry about again? she thought.

She walked away from the staff room and down the hallway, heading to the elevators. She boarded on and pressed the second floor button, leaning onto the handrail. The elevator’s movement only worsen the discomfort in her stomach.

(Y/N) exited the elevator when the doors opened, walking down the hallway to the staff room. She would’ve made it there if she didn’t hear obnoxiously loud whispering in the room next to her, sounding similar to a toddler bickering. She peeked in the room and saw two little boys huddled together in front of a hanging white sheet, speaking to what appears as themselves. She noticed the hospital wrist bands on their arms, confirming their admission here.

“What are you two doing?” (Y/N) questioned, crossing her arms.

They both jumped, letting out their own squeals as they turned around and looked at her.

“N-nothing! Just… playing!” one smiled.

They both looked like twins, (Y/N) noted.

“You both should be in your rooms. What are your names?” she questioned.

“I’m Tom, that’s Jerry.” The other toddler introduced themselves as.

“Like the cartoon?” she questioned, a smile on her face.

“Um… yes?” he spoke, hesitantly.

Wow. Am I that old? They obviously haven’t seen it… she thought to herself.

“Well, it sure matches you both, since you sneaked out of your rooms. Who are you talking to?” (Y/N) questioned, resisting the urge to peek behind the curtain.

Yeah. Like I’m that dumb… I’m not going to die like Psycho from a killer hiding behind a damn curtain. She thought to herself. And there’s no way I’m investigating either. I don’t mess with ghosts.

“Come along, now.” (Y/N) spoke.

(Y/N) watched as they walked away, shooting each other glares. She looked at the curtain once last time before shutting the door and walking away. If she looked behind the curtain, she would’ve saw Ashley hiding from the security guard, a scalpel in her hand and ready to attack (Y/N) and the kids if the curtain was opened. Ashley was still mad at Andrew, and now she was mad at all the nurses in the hospital, but especially Andrew’s new nurse he grew to favor.

(Y/N) led the two kids to the staff room and unlocked the door, peeking in and looking for any nurse that recognizes these two. She saw one of the pediatric nurses, Wally, and smiled.

“Ah, Wally. Do you know these two?” (Y/N) questioned, bringing the two kids into the room.

“I thought I locked their doors. They kept trying to escape…” Wally sighed, standing up from his seat.

“I used a pen to escape.” Jerry smiled. “Then broke Tom out.”

“Well, thank you for telling me how you got out, because now there’s a no pen policy in your rooms.” Wally spoke, giving them a stern glare.

“Aw! You just had to run your mouth!” Tom huffed.

“You didn’t stop me!” Jerry poorly excused as Wally dragged them back to their hospital rooms.

“How was I supposed to know what you were gonna say?” Tom questioned.

I wonder what they’re in here for. (Y/N) thought to herself. They sure seem energetic for being sick or injured, but I supposed it could be something internal.

She decided to ignore it and refill her medical bag. She grabbed a new bottle of water and pretzels since she gave her old pair to Hailey earlier.

She walked out of the room and locked the door, heading back to the clinic. She found Doctor Ryan’s office and stood outside, waiting a few minutes in case there was a patient, that way in case a patient was getting a shot they wouldn't get startled and jump, accidentally breaking the needle or causing harm. She heard nothing from inside the door and assumed there was no patients, so she knocked gently.

“Come in.” Doctor Ryan spoke.

“Hello, sir.” (Y/N) greeted, entering the room and shutting the door behind them. “Is there any new patients today?”

“Only walk-ins, remember?” Doctor Ryan reminded.

“Yeah, but I’m so bored…” she sighed.

“I’ve never met a student that’s actually excited to work.” Doctor Ryan admitted, chuckling.

“Not all that excited, but I woke up today to go to work, and I get paid to work, so I wanna work. Time is so slow when there’s nothing to do.” (Y/N) rambled.

“I agree. Hey, I heard you got Andrew admitted for surgery. Internal bleeding in the brain?” Doctor reminded.

(Y/N) felt a flash of worry and she grimaced.

“Was that… the wrong call?” she questioned, not even bothering to hide the discomfort and worry on her face.

“It was the right call. Good job. I just wanted to see you squirm.” The doctor laughed.

“Sheesh, you worried me! I thought I got fired before evening getting the real job.” (Y/N) sighed.

“Sorry, sorry. How is he doing? Social-wise? Is he still stingy towards the other nurses?” he questioned.

“I introduced him to Hailey today. They both were quiet, but they interacted for a bit, which is good considering Hailey hasn’t seen a new visitor in a while.” She explained. "He saw Penelope too and didn't throw anything at her. So that's... good?"

“How’s Hailey’s condition?” Doctor Ryan asked.

“She’s only getting worse. I really don’t think she’ll live for long.” (Y/N) sighed, a frown forming on her face.

“That’s unfortunate. Sadly, it’s part of our job to see them go sometimes.” Doctor Ryan spoke, patting her shoulder. “But hey, we’re here to help prevent that.”

“That does remind me, when is Hailey’s next chemotherapy session?” she questioned.

“It’ll be Sunday, but you and me won’t be here. With our day off and all.” Doctor Ryan explained. “Any plans?”

“I’m hanging out with Penelope from the psychiatric branch tomorrow. Sunday I’ll catch up on sleep.” (Y/N) informed.

She noticed his smug expression and glared at him, but that didn’t stop him from making his joke.

“Well, I bet Andr-“

“Don’t finish it.” (Y/N) warned.

“Okay. Okay.” He chuckled.

“What do you plan on doing?” she questioned, redirecting the conversation.

“Hanging out with my wife and kids. Probably get no sleep.” He shrugged.

“Poor you, family man.” (Y/N) teased.

“You don’t understand what it’s like trying to sleep in a house with two toddlers during the day. It’s not very easy.” He explained.

“How’s the wife and kids anyway?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Jax just celebrated his third birthday. Piper’s learning to read. And Jane wants me to work day shift.” Doctor Ryan sighed.

“Well, why don’t you?” (Y/N) questioned. “You sleep in the day and can’t spend time with your family at night since they're sleeping. I think it’d be best.”

“Exactly. Everyone does that. We don’t have enough nurses for night shift, especially skilled ones.” Doctor Ryan huffed, then remembered that (Y/N) technically qualifies as unskilled, at the moment at least. “Which is why I teach you! So I can skedaddle!”

“I’ll be the best pediatrician here.” (Y/N) smiled, then noticed the stare Doctor Ryan gave her. “Night shift wise, I will be. You’ll be on the day shift.”

Doctor Ryan’s walkie-talkie went off, catching both of their attention.

“Doctor Ryan, a nurse is bringing a patient to you. Possible UTI.” The walkie-talkie spoke.

“Aw, poor kid.” (Y/N) spoke.

“Yeah, poor kid alright.” Doctor Ryan grimaced, just imagining the pain and discomfort.

“Well, let’s get it checked out then prescribe antibiotics if they’re right.” She sighed, stretching her arms out and cracking her knuckles. . . Thirty minutes before (Y/N)’s shift and she felt exhausted. The work day went by pretty fast and now she was walking down the hallway to see Hailey.

She slowly opened the door, not wanting to knock and accidentally wake up Hailey, but she wanted to make sure Hailey was still breathing.

She expected to see a sleeping girl but instead she saw that she was wide awake, using her nightstands lamp as a light so she could read.

“Hailey!” (Y/N) lightly hissed through her teeth, quiet so she doesn’t accidentally wake up any nearby patients sleeping in their rooms.

“Hello, Ms. (L/N).” Hailey smiled, unphased that she got caught.

“It’s 5:30 in the morning and you’re still up. You should’ve been long in bed sleeping.” She scolded, walking up to Hailey and sitting down on her guest chair. “But, since you’re up. How’s the book?”

“I think it’s really interesting, the way her decisions could have such consequences. I never thought decisions would mean so much.” Hailey explained.

“Of course. You know, I had to decide if I wanted to be a nurse or a writer.” (Y/N) admitted.

“Well, you’re a nurse now.” Hailey smiled, before it dropped. “Do… you think if you weren’t a nurse, would we have never met?”

“Probably not.” (Y/N) admitted, not bothering to sugarcoat it to her. "But that's just a consequence from my decision. Not all consequences mean bad things. I don't regret not being a writer either. I'm here with you, aren't I?" she smiled, patting Hailey's hand reassuringly.

"Uh, that boy from earlier..." Hailey started.

(Y/N)'s smile disappeared as she felt a bolt of lightning strike her. She felt sick again, and her chest started to pop and boil, and her hands started to tremble. She dug her nails into her palms once more and tilted her head, leaning in close to listen to the girl.

"He was scary..." Hailey muttered, causing (Y/N) to let out a forced giggle.

"Ah, yes. I supposed Andrew was. But he's real sweet when he opens up." (Y/N) smiled, giving her a small white lie since she really didn't know herself if Andrew was sweet, but she at least wanted to ease the girl's nerves.

"I think he likes you." Hailey teased, letting out a girlish giggle.

"Everyone apparently thinks that." (Y/N) laughed, recalling Doctor Ryan's words.

"Well, do you like him back?" Hailey questioned.

"Oh, hails. I just met him yesterday!" (Y/N) pointed out, shaking her head as she smiled.

"It's true love at first sight!" Hailey declared.

"Where'd you learn that saying?" (Y/N) questioned.

"I'm serious! I think you two would be really cute, you're like polar opposites!" Hailey claimed, ignoring (Y/N)'s previous question.

Really, personality-wise, I don't think we're too different. Hailey doesn't understand my outside-work persona. (Y/N) thought to herself as she just smiled and went along with what Hailey said.

"You should confess!" Hailey encouraged.

"What's with you and this?" (Y/N) questioned.

"I know I won't live long enough to experience love like in the books... so I figured the second best thing would be having you live it." Hailey smiled, her smile fake and twitching.

"Oh, hails..." (Y/N) sighed, getting up from her chair and walking to Hailey's bedside.

Hailey scooted over so that (Y/N) could sit on the bed with her. Hailey immediately wrapped her arms around (Y/N)'s torso and dug her face into (Y/N)'s chest, her shoulders heaving up and down, giving away that she was crying. (Y/N) sighed and wrapped one of her arms around Hailey, the other she used to gently caress Hailey's bald scalp, a permanent reminder of her condition.

(Y/N) wanted to tell her that Hailey would be alright, that she would make it through, but she knew she couldn't promise that, especially to a little kid. She wasn't going to accidentally give the girl false hope and have her miserable on her potential death bed.

"You're such a sweet girl, any boy would fall for you instantly. Your cute little button nose and brown eyes would have any boy smitten. Your laugh and sweet personality would have any boy confess their love for you. If you made some friends with the boys here in this branch, you'll have so many guys surrounding you, you wouldn't know what to do!" (Y/N) reassured, poking Hailey's nose and causing her to giggle.

"Do you think they'd still like me even without hair?" Hailey questioned.

"Course they would. If a boy only likes you for your looks, punch him for me." (Y/N) joked, smiling.

"I will." Hailey giggled.

"Hey, I'll tell you what. When I come back on Monday, I'll take you out to the garden. The flowers are in bloom this year!" (Y/N) spoke.

"Promise?" Hailey gasped.

"I swear on my life." (Y/N) smiled. "Now, I'm going to go pay Andrew a little visit. You better sleep when I leave this room, understand?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yes.” Hailey nodded.

“Thank you. And good job today, Hailey. I’m so proud of you for talking with Andrew and staying strong as always. What color star would you like today?” (Y/N) asked, reaching into her medical bag.

“Purple.” Hailey smiled.

“You got it.” (Y/N) smiled, placing the sticker down onto Hailey’s nightstand. “Goodnight, hails. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Goodnight.” Hailey smiled, getting comfortable in her bed.

(Y/N) walked out of the room and closed the door, making her way to the elevators. She got on and pressed the fourth floor button, waiting for the elevator to stop moving. The doors opened and she walked out and to Andrew’s room. She made it in front of the door then knocked.

There was no answer.

Ah, Andrew must’ve went to bed like I asked. It’s good that he actually listens to me. (Y/N) thought, a smile appearing on her face at the thought of having possibly tamed the cannibalistic murderer (however she did, she does not know).

(Y/N) opened the door quietly, just to check. It’s also a possibility that he could’ve died in his sleep due to the anesthesia or a error in the surgery. It could also be a possibility that he jumped out of the window since he’s on suicide-watch (not like any other nurse had the nerves to come in and actually leave with no bruises).

She opened the door and noted that he was still in bed, sleeping peacefully. His heart monitor was still on and showed his vitals, all sounding normal and looked it too. Her heart sped up a bit as she watched him sleep peacefully.

He looks so peaceful. (Y/N) noted, admiring his vulnerable and slumbering figure.

He was handsome when he wasn't frowning. Well, even when he did have a scowl on his face, he was certainly able to make such an ugly face a pretty one. His pale skin in comparison to his dark hair was breathtaking, and his green eyes were simply divine, like Granny Smith apples; sour and tart, but a hint of sweet when you bite down just right.

She eventually snapped out of her trance after remembering that she was still in the hallway and what she was doing was no doubt creepy, and shut the door. It probably would’ve been a good idea to have told him that she would be gone for a few days, but she’s sure he’ll manage decently.

She walked away and to the branch’s staff room, unlocking the door. Lucky, there was no one in for her to have to converse with—nobody except Penelope. Penelope patients were always the most tamest and laidback since HR knew her.. questionable... personality.

“Hey!” Penelope smiled, just finishing clocking out.

“Hello!” (Y/N) greeted back, walking towards her and grabbing the clipboard and pen from her hands as Penelope handed it to her.

“How was patient 402 today?” Penelope questioned.

“Ah, he had surgery so I didn’t see much of him. He saw Hailey for a few minutes before he went to his room and slept.” (Y/N) explained.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad he’s doing okay and I’m glad he’s getting along with Hailey.” Penelope squealed.

“Mmhm.” (Y/N) hummed, finishing her clock-out.

She used the computer and typed up today's report for all her patients. When she got to Andrew's she typed: get casting on leg done immediately while he’s still asleep so he or his sister doesn’t get hostile.

Penelope read the screen from over (Y/N)’s shoulder, then spoke.

“Oh. His sister? I haven’t seen her since yesterday!” Penelope explained.

“Huh. Well, maybe she had something to do today?” (Y/N) reasoned.

“Maybe! But I heard from Ruby that she was kicked out of the hospital after she got aggressive with Andrew. She probably got banned from returning.” Penelope explained.

(Y/N) physically grimaced, a scowl forming on her face at Penelope saying Andrew’s name. She really didn’t like it when Penelope said his name and she’s not sure why.

“Is there something wrong? Did you forget to do something?” Penelope questioned.

“Oh, no. I just made the face because I can’t believe his sister could be so mean to him while he’s injured.” (Y/N) smiled forcefully.

“Right? Poor Andrew… I really hope he doesn’t have to see her anytime soon! It makes me wonder how she usually treats him uninjured.” Penelope frowned, pitying the poor patient who wasn’t in the room.

(Y/N) grimaced again, hating her saying “Andrew” just as much as she hated it the first time, if not, even stronger.

“I agree.” She spoke through her smiling teeth, another forceful grin. "Welp!" she smiled, clapping her hands together. "See you tomorrow, Penelope!" she spoke, quick to clock out and leave.

(Y/N) quickly walked down the hall to the elevators, hopping in and pressing the lobby button. She took a moment to compose herself, leaning against the railing.

I feel so weird today. My chest feels like it's being squeezed and I feel almost angry... She thought, confused of her emotions.

Maybe she didn't eat a big enough lunch. When she gets home, she'll eat dinner and drink lots of water before heading to bed. Yeah, she could use the meal and the sleep. It can be really difficult being the caretaker when you have no one to care for you, but in her own words, "in order to care for another, you must first learn to care for yourself."

She got in her car and drove back to her apartment, shutting the door and locking it before she collapsed on her living room's couch. She laid on her back for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling blankly, no thoughts crossing her mind.

She needed the few minutes to gain some energy. It’s always so exhausting smiling and being positive, especially in such a depressing and brooding setting such as a hospital where many meet their end, even worse that its children.

She doesn’t regret her decision in going through with becoming a pediatrician, but it does get heartbreaking seeing young kids die. She tries her best to help them, but sometimes there’s just some things out of your control.

She knows that when Hailey dies, she’ll be absolutely devastated. Out of all the patients she sees and talks to, she always makes sure to give Hailey the most of her attention and time.

Hailey was first admitted into the hospital when she was seven. After weeks of in and out tests at the hospital, MRI’s and blood withdraws, she was diagnosed with cancer. From then on, she spent her days at the hospital. Hailey’s parents were always busy, one was a lawyer and the other was a traveling diplomat. The nurses were basically babysitters for her while her parents were working.

Her parents loved her, they loved her so much that they couldn’t bare to see her slowly deteriorate in front of their eyes, so they forced themselves away from her side and indulged in work to rid the thought of their only daughter dying. They didn’t realize how lonely or terrifying it was for Hailey, to suddenly be surrounded by white walls and white floors and white sheets. Surrounded by the stench of heavy bleach and aroma of lemons. By radiation machines and clumps of lost hair on her pillows.

She watched out of her window as other patients walk in and out of the hospital, their families walking by their side, supporting them during their times of need. Her visitors weren't family, but nurses and doctors entering and exiting her room, no longer bothering to smile or give her white lies of how she'll heal soon.

(Y/N) couldn't try to understand or emphasize, she wasn't sick in a hospital bed balding. She wasn't bedridden, and she had the fortunate ability to move her legs unlike Hailey's legs, the clumping of leukemia cells in Hailey's knees making it hard to walk on some days. (Y/N)'s been Hailey's nurse for five months now, she had started nursing Hailey before she decided to change her career.

(Y/N) was originally going to be a pediatric nurse, make sure children are sticking to their proper recovery path and taking medications that they're doctors are prescribing them, provide utmost comfortability and nurturing to them as they could, and constantly run tests on their weights, diets, and symptoms, but she changed her studies to become a pediatric hematologist-oncologist after meeting Hailey.

(Y/N) graduated high school a year early by taking Advanced Placement (college-level) courses and getting a head start by going to classes during school breaks and on the weekends. It was exhausting and downright infuriating at times, but she managed and graduated with her high school diploma along with a certificate in child care after completing a three-year course in high school for early childhood education; allowing her to get a part-time job after high school by working in a daycare. Then she moved out from her parents, heading to college and completing one year of adolescent medicine (originally, it was supposed to be four, but her AP classes counted for college-credit and high school credits). She finished college five months ago, and now she's learning from Doctor Ryan JTED general pediatrics while taking online hematology-oncology classes to graduate med school early.

She had always been an over-achiever, aiming for success to please her parents and earn what little praise she could. It had been a goal ever since she was a child, to hear such little words from them with actual meaning, not just false words spoken on auto-pilot to shoo their child away.

Her father wanted her to be successful and rich in life, so she wouldn't have to deal with poverty in her future anymore, and her mother... well, her mother really didn't care what she did. In fact, her mother never cared at all. Her parents were always working all the time. Her father worked as an overworked and underpaid mechanic who worked 6-8, never having any time for his daughter as he worked in the day and slept at night. Her mother was also a nurse, specializing in cardiology; she slept in the day and worked at night. Even on her days off, she slept and ignored (Y/N)'s needs.

From two years old to five, (Y/N) was locked alone in a room with a bed, TV, and a bathroom. She was locked in a dark room for 16 hours a day, with no food and the only water source was from the sink's faucet. All she did in that room was sleep, watch cartoons on the TV, and cry; begging to be let out of the room, begging for food, begging for any sort of affection or tenderness from her mother who slept in the room next door so that (Y/N) wouldn't interrupt her sleeping. Instead, the only affection she received in her life was the embrace of her bed's sheets.

All her time in her hands caused her to sleep so much she developed a sleeping disorder, hypersomnia; the inability to remain alert, woke, or refreshed in the daytime despite having an excessive amount of rest. That condition became chronic, even now she struggled with it, which made her excessive daytime sleepiness so much worse due to working eight hours at the hospital for her JTED classes of general pediatrics (at least she got paid for her apprenticeship, working from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M.), and studying online for hematology-oncology for at least 3 to 4 hours after work. She's eternally grateful for her med school being paid, earning a scholarship due to all her high grades in her AP classes and completing college with her adolescent medicine degree. Medicine was a part of her mother's side of the family, and (Y/N) naturally became a caretaker after learning to care for herself her whole life; touch starved from the hands of her mother and father.

If (Y/N) had been the patient in the hospital bed, would her mother have cared then? Would she have shown a bit of sympathy? Even just touch her arm for a few seconds to feel for a vein and inject a IV needle in? The answer was no. Her mother didn't care when (Y/N) had been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, fainting after days of neglecting her needs of food and water in order to complete her piling school work. Her mother didn't care when (Y/N) pleaded for help at ten years old, saying she believed she had depression and needed help.

Instead of helping her, her mother shook it off as hormones from puberty, and even told her to stop overreacting that: "You can't be depressed. People have such worse lives than you, dying alone in hospital beds, and here you are, crying about a few hormonal mood swings."

Her mother didn't even care when (Y/N) had tried to kill herself when she was just eleven years old. For a nurse, whose job is supposed to protect and care, she was cruel.

Her father cared, he really did, but he just didn't have the time for her. While her mother slept and ignored her, he was at work busting his ass off to earn money and support their family. He had grown up poor, living in immense poverty, sharing a bedroom with his sister, unsure of when their next meal was. He never graduated high school, he went to the military but after a few years was rejected due to heart conditions, which led him to coming home and getting his GED so that he could go to college and become a mechanic. Money was always a problem for her family, even in a two-income household it was hard to meet living standards. A big reason she piled all that work on her and neglected her health was so she could get her schooling paid for.

Remember her saying from earlier? "In order to care for another, you must first learn to care for yourself." Well, she had to teach herself that the hard way. She realized she couldn't be a nurse and preach others to care for themselves if she couldn't even care for herself. So, she took on hobbies to help her mental health, forced herself to make friends and gain confidence, made an oath to stop her self-harm when she was young. This was a challenge, but it presented opportunity for growth, for success, for happiness.

Opportunity is everywhere, so long as you choose to believe it. You don't need to see things to know it's there, so long as you have faith. Opportunity is everywhere, lurking and waiting to jump out from the corner and get you! Even the corner of your bedroom, while you lay thinking of nothing and everything depressingly on your couch. Opportunity is stalking, waiting patiently for you to walk through your bedroom door so they could give you a big hug! Or a stab! Or multiple stabs!

Opportunity comes in many forms. Education, money, experience, decisions, and even people; such as Ashley Graves! Opportunities to pursue your goal of nursing, or if we use Ashley's motivation, a wonderful opportunity to stab a little nurse out of jealousy all because she just happened to get too close to her brother after he made a minor slip-up. A Grave consequence, really.

A cliff-hanger! This is where the next chapter will take some time to come out since all the previous chapters were drafts I wrote for fun before I started writing for Tumblr.

Also, Penelope is one of my first yanderes I created myself, an OC! While she won't play a major role in this series, she'll have her own headcannons and such one day once I get around to it, maybe you'll find an interest in her yourself!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, current chapter, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (in the works)

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covetyou · 5 months

Text

homecoming

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist part one ⋆ part two ⋆ part three

pairing: cuck!Joel x f!reader, brief M!OC x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: cuckolding, daddy kink, protected and unprotected PIV, creampie, cum kink, pet names, ddlg vibes, questionable text message formatting word count: 3.8k summary: you follow through with plans to see Andrew for the first time

A/N: cuck!Joel was only ever going to consist of oneshots, but now this is a three part intro to cuck!Joel and Andrew.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

He felt like he was making some kind of illicit deal, hanging around the parking lot waiting for people to file out at the end of the day. In a way, he was.

"Hey buddy! Wait up."

It had been as simple as that to stop him. A little small talk here, a little work talk there. Never one for elegance, Joel quickly cut to the chase. "I saw you looking at my girl on Friday."

Andrew startles, nervously rattling his car keys in his hand. There was no denying it, he wasn't stupid enough to even try. He knew he'd been too obvious. And he knew a man the size of Joel could easily deck him if he wanted to.

"She... I- I'm sorry, man, she looked amazing. I promise, meant nothing by it."

Tell Joel something he didn't know. "Look, I'll keep this simple. I'm out of town next weekend, she'd like it if you kept her company."

Keys drop to the gravel below.

"What are you -" Andrew is confused. Very confused. He was ready to apologize for overstepping an obvious mark, flirting with another man's girl right in front of him, and now this?

"Think you know what I'm sayin'."

Andrew did. He'd gone home Friday night and fisted his cock to thoughts of that silky dress wrapped around your body, your nipples so obvious beneath the fabric, dreaming that they were hard for him instead of Joel, his boss. He should not have been fantasizing about his boss's girl at all, but there was no stopping it.

"Don't have to be nothin', but," Joel shrugs, "If you both want it to be somethin'... I ain't got a problem with it."

It had been simple as that. Joel had handed over your phone number, telling him to get in touch, and it had all gone from there.

You were nervous.

Outwardly you probably looked the same as you always did, legs curled under, eyes focused on the TV ahead, occasionally checking your phone. No. The only outward sign that anything was different were the occasional deep breaths you had to take - deep sighs to stave off the hammering in your heart that little bit longer.

You didn't know how to do any of this. It had been a long time since you properly dated - Could this even be called a date? - and whilst there was no pressure and minimal expectation, you still felt the familiar bubble of nerves in your belly.

You'd texted back and forth from the day Joel gave him your number. You had one anxious phonecall to talk it out, a call that became both easier and harder the longer it went on. When it was over, Joel made you come on his fingers, before sliding the tip of his cock into your mouth for you to quickly swallow down his come. It seemed Joel was coming quicker and quicker lately, and you can't say you blamed him.

There was a knock at the door just as you took your next deep, calming, breath, and you choked on it as it was halfway down, making you cough and splutter for a second as you gasped in air.

Opening the door, it was clear to see he was as nervous as you.

It had felt awkward at first, and you briefly thought about running to the bathroom and calling Joel. Then you'd caught him looking at you, raking his eyes down your body, making him blush when his eyes caught yours, sparkling with laughter. He smiled at you sheepishly, and you openly dragged your own eyes across his body in return, his legs spread and arm thrown back on the couch, and that was the tension broken.

You both spent a long hour on the sofa of Joel's living room, ignoring the TV as you talked, working your way closer and closer to him, short touches getting longer and longer until his hand was resting on your knee. You'd made the first move, shutting him up with a kiss as he talked animatedly about a movie he'd watched with his nephew. It hadn't taken long for your clothes to be discarded around the living room and for you to be dragging Andrew up the stairs to Joel's bedroom.

He hesitated for a moment, asking if this was really okay, if you really wanted it, if Joel really wouldn't mind, before succumbing to his own desires and falling into bed with you. You had forgotten what it was like to get to know a new body, and to have unfamiliar hands on yours.

Still, it felt good, and fumbling hands quickly brought you to your first release of the night.

His tongue, and a quick look downward to the foreign face between your legs, had brought you to your second.

You tried to hold back your disappointment when he covered his cock with a condom. You understood, as much as you disliked it, and you didn't try to convince him otherwise.

Your third had been around his cock as it pumped in and out of you, the curve dragging across your walls in a way Joel's didn't.

You couldn't take a fourth, and he was coming into the condom inside you with your nails raking down his back just as it all started becoming too much.

He had held you afterward, talking and laughing into your mouth as you let your hands wander over one another until the early hours of the morning.

You couldn't wait for Joel to get home.

His truck is pulling into the driveway, replacing where Andrew's had been the night before. You run to the door, throwing yourself at him as soon as it clicks open to reveal his beautiful face.

You kiss him all over - his plush lips, the curve of his nose, the crinkles by his eyes as he laughs at you and tells you to calm down.

“Someone missed me,” he says, thinking how lucky he is to come home to you. You didn't live here, not yet, but he loved how you'd worn down his torn edges and leaked into every part of his life, slotting into the gaps he'd left for you to inhabit.

“Always,” you mumble, still dotting kisses all over him. He finally finds your mouth again, calming you with a deep kiss and sturdy hands, pressing you up against his warm body. He tastes like coffee, even this late in the day, and the bitter familiarity of it stirs something in your belly.

When he pulls back, he's searching your face, looking for any trace of worry, any upset that he may have to deal with. Finding nothing but unbridled joy, he smiles softly, throwing his keys onto the table by the door, the other still kept firmly wrapped around you.

“You have a good night without me?”

A laugh tumbles out of you. You're glad he asked so soon, having been eager to tell him all about it since the moment Andrew left. Still, you can't help but grin at the memory of Andrew and your evening wrapped up in Joel's sheets with him.

“I did.”

“S’good,” he says, knowing that the smiling tearing across your face is for more than just him. He's curious, painfully so, at what another man could've been doing with you to make you so happy. He wishes he could've been there to see it first hand.

“He make you come?” he asks, pulling you along to the couch with you still folded into his arms. You nod, the grin already hurting your cheeks, glad to let Joel know of the fun you had.

“S’good baby, so good.”

He kisses you again before he sits down, pulling you on top of him to straddle his thighs. His hands are roaming all over you, tracing the same trails over you that Andrew's had. The stroke of his fingers drag goosebumps across your flesh as he scrapes them down your hips to rest heavily on your legs.

Pushing his hands firmer into your thighs, you make him hold you tighter, relishing the feeling of his hands being back on you. Andrew had been hesitant to hold you at first, tentative to mark you or grip you too tight. Joel's hands were sure and steady, they knew you in ways that Andrew's were only just starting to know. The new and the old, you were excited for both.

“His hands feel different, baby?”

Joel's cupping your breasts now, gently squeezing and running thumbs over your nipples, making you arch into him with a soft whine. “Yes. Yours are bigger.”

Your hips start to move, first with the arch of your back as you push into his hands, but then with the realization there's a distinct hard shape below you, covered by the rough fabric of his jeans.

"Grind on me baby, that's it. I know your pussy's been all used up, but Daddy needs somethin' too."

“I need it too Daddy.”

“Y’always do baby. Always do.”

You're rocking your hips into him, his hardening erection pressing into your core through the thick denim. His hands reach under your shirt, dragging the fabric up as he moves, exposing your breasts and immediately capturing a nipple in his mouth with a scrape of his teeth.

"What did you like about him? What made you come the hardest baby?"

"His tongue. Uhhh. Came so hard on his tongue, Daddy."

“Oh fuck, I bet he ate this pussy nice and good.” His fingers are tickling up the legs of your shorts, stroking the sensitive apex of your thighs as you rock your body over him.

“You like his cock?” Joel finally asks, curiosity winning over his patience. The question makes you smile, your closed eyes helping you picture the shape of it all over again.

“Yes, Daddy. It was so pretty.”

Joel holds back a laugh. He'd been taken aback when you'd first called his own cock pretty, and when you'd explained in detail what you meant, he understood. If anything, it sparked a new found appreciation for his own dick that he didn't know he could have. If you loved it as much as you did then, damn, it must be pretty. It was no less funny now that you were using the same word to describe another man's cock. If he wasn't so pent up, he'd have you sit here and describe every little thing you liked about it too, but right now he needed to be inside you. He'd held himself back from coming at the thought of you two fucking in his bed last night, and he couldn't hold off any longer.

“That's so good baby. A pretty cock for my pretty girl.”

Joel talking about Andrew's cock makes your head spin in the best way. You lean forward and latch your lips to his just for another surface to find purchase on and stop you drifting off into space.

“Did he come too?”

It's a stupid question, Joel knows this, but one he wanted to hear the answer to anyway. There was something about his girl getting another man off that made pride swell inside him, pumping his cock up to near impossible levels of hardness.

You moan a yes into his mouth as you rub your cunt over the zipper if his jeans. His own fingers trail higher, making you pause your grinding as his index finger finds your hole, dipping in with ease at the excess moisture gathered there.

“He come in here?”

You bite your lip.

“Not like that."

Disappointment flickers across your face, and Joel sees it, well versed in the telltale twitch of your brow as you fight off a frown. He'll press the issue more later, you know, but for now he has one goal in mind.

“You suck his dick?”

“A little bit.”

Joel groans then, bucking up into you at the admission. Knowing his own mouth had been on yours, right where Andrew's cock had been not too long ago was sending him into a frenzy - he needs to calm down or get inside you, and quickly. He pulls you up and off of him, needing more than the heat of your cunt grinding in him over so many layers, and unzips his jeans, pulling out his weeping cock. He's so hard he almost feels bruised. It's okay, he reasons, he knows the perfect thing to ease an aching cock.

Pulling you back over him, he tugs down your shorts and panties, drawing them to the side so he can hook his cock through the gusset, trapping his bare cock against your bare pussy.

You could almost cry feeling his skin on yours and you want to claw your clothes off just to feel more of him on you. You know there's probably not time - Joel's cock is red and angry and it already feels so hot against your dripping slit. You'll have to make do with later, for now you'll just take him any way you can get him.

“Can I sit on it, Daddy? Please?” You plead with him, eyes pointlessly begging when you already know the answer.

“Rub that juicy pussy all over me first baby, gotta get it wet. I know you're all stretched out already, but I don't wanna hurt you.”

Your hips buck, sliding your cunt easily over his length, coating him in your arousal. His cock drags against your clit, jerking the sensitive bundle of nerves with each roll of your hips.

Your patience doesn't last long, and choosing to ask for forgiveness later rather than permission now, you waste no time in lifting yourself up, pushing his cock head to line up with your hole, and sinking down smoothly onto his rock hard length.

“Ohhhh, Daddy,” you groan as you take him to the root in one.

“Oh, shit, atta girl. Good fuckin' girl.” His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush to him. You fall forward, steading yourself on his shoulders. When his lips capture yours, you let out a moan, opening your mouth to the plundering of his tongue.

“Needed this so fuckin' bad, baby,” he grunts into your mouth, thrusting up now to prompt you to move. You start to rock on him, his cock sliding against a spongy spot on your inner walls, dragging back and forth over it in a way that makes your bottom lip quiver.

“Need you, Daddy.”

"Rock on me baby. Want you comin' on my cock before I fill you up."

“Oh, god, please.”

You'd gone without it from Andrew last night, and now all you could think about was being filled with Joel's cum.

You let your hips rock forward, the drag of your clit against the hair on his pubic bone pulling a sigh of relief from you as you move. He kept it trimmed short, all the more for you to grind against when you took him deep. It won't be long until you're falling apart over him, your brain had already been half way there before he'd even got through the door.

You rock faster, screwing your eyes shut as your moans get more desperate.

“Daddy, please.”

He knows what you need, he always does. He holds you tight in one arm, planting his other on your ass to encourage you on and on with your movements. You come with him whispering words of encouragement into your ear, shaking and stuttering on his lap, slick gushing around his cock and coating every glorious inch of him.

The remnants of your orgasm are still shuddering through you when he's pulling you to the side, keeping his cock seated deep in you, to lay you back on the couch. From this angle he can fuck into you on his terms, keep you covered and protected with his entire body as he claims your pussy.

He pulls his hips back, the head of his cock coming to rest just at your entrance, before sliding home. You squeal, gripping hold of his arms tightly as he sets a brutal pace fucking into you. Before Joel you're not sure you ever really knew what full meant. At this very moment, in this room, you didn't know what anything meant anymore as he fucked you with a determination that sent you stupid.

You can't help the loud moans that come from your mouth with each thrust of Joel's hips, the wet slap of his skin against yours rattling through your bones and echoing in your empty head.

“Talk to me,” he gasps into your ear. “Talk to me baby.”

“C-can’t Daddy. S’too- s'too good.”

He slows, hips still snapping into yours, but with a force that actually allows you to catch your breath. Not that you wanted to. You were ready to scream for him, but Joel wants more words from you than the shrill cries he'd have otherwise been tearing from your chest.

Joel lathes his tongue down your neck, tracing the faint marks Andrew had left on you. He sucks and nips on them, trying to taste him on you.

“You're so beautiful baby,” he praises. “All fucked out and used up and so fuckin' beautiful.”

"Mm. He was so good, Daddy. Felt so, so good."

You feel fuzzy thinking about it, and fuzzier still with the feeling of Joel's bare cock moving in you. You snap your eyes closed again, gripping Joel's thick arms tightly. His mouth is close to your ear. You can feel it. His breathing is loud, the smell of coffee and clean hair and Joel taking over your senses.

"You want his cum in you, don't you? Come on, no lying now. I know you do, it's okay. Tell me. Saw your face when I asked, baby. Need to hear it."

"Yes, Daddy," you whine into his neck. "I want his cum in me so bad."

Joel's heart hammers in his chest, his balls are so tight they could burst, but he's determined to last longer this time. He's waited two days for you, for this. All week he'd been coming in what felt like seconds, unable to keep the thought of your weekend activities out of his mind. He was worse than a damn teenager.

"I could be fucking it deeper into you right now. My dick would be covered in it. Could have it dripping off my balls. You'd lick it off and clean me up, wouldn't you baby?"

"Please."

You would, and you wished for nothing more than to be doing that right now. The need for it makes your eyes water, and Joel spots the signs, quickly capturing a small tear with the pad of his thumb.

“S’okay sweetheart. We'll get you filled up.”

His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly to him as pounds into you, whispering filthy promises in your ear before you finally get your fill. It doesn't take him long, relishing in the sounds of your moans in his ears, the pretty sounds of you begging for him, needing your Daddy so much you were crying for it. He whispers right back to you, telling you how much of a good girl you are, how beautiful you look when you're desperate, how much Andrew must have wanted you to have come to another man's house, to have fucked you in another man's bed, how very much he loves you, and you're his, you're his, you're his.

Your combined voices egging each other on and the wet grip of your cunt get him there, pulling him into you and painting your insides with his cum. Swollen lips find yours, and you swallow down his grunts as he jerks into you.

You feel warmed from the inside out when Joel finally looks at you again, taking your head in his hands and kissing you softly.

"Missed you," he mumbles into your mouth, and the warmth in your bones melts them, turning you to liquid right there on the couch.

"Missed you too, Joel."

Joel slips out from between your legs, stuffing a hand between you to quickly pull the fabric of your panties and shorts over your dripping center. He cups you there, holding you gently, soaking through your panties and shorts with cum as it leaks out of you. With his hand still between you, he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, letting your hands stroke soothing patterns up and down his back

A loud gurgle breaks the comfortable silence, and you both laugh. It was late in the day, neither of you had eaten but both had worked up quite the appetite.

"I made lasagna," you say, Joel's weight shifting off of you, removing the shroud of his body from over the top of yours. You'd spent half the day making it, needing something to keep you occupied as you waited for Joel to come back from his work trip.

Sitting back on the sofa, he assesses your relaxed form - legs still spread, dark patch forming on the front of your panties from your combined fluids leaking out of you, lips swollen and eyes glassy.

"S'perfect," he says, and you're not entirely sure he's talking about the food.

You'd eaten dinner together, finally peeling yourselves apart when the 40 minute timer had gone off. Afterwards, Joel had taken you upstairs, spotting the same sheets that were on his bed when he left you here on Saturday morning. You go to change them, cursing yourself for the oversight, but he tells you to leave it, pulling you in for a kiss before dragging you into the shower with him. You fall asleep soundly in his sheets that night, the smell of you and him and Andrew mingled together on the soft linens.

Joel, however, can't sleep. He can't get your face out of his head - the twitch in your eyebrow, the tear escaping your eye with how much you wanted something you didn't get. He knows you - he knows you would never ask, never make that kind of request of anyone. But he is not you.

So, at some time gone 11, cradling your sleeping form in one arm, he pulls out his phone.

Joel M. (11:13 p.m.): You seeing anyone else?

A. (11:20 p.m.): What?

Joel M. (11:21 p.m.): Are you fucking anyone other than my girl.

A. (11:21 p.m.): No.

Joel M. (11:28 p.m.): Good. Get tested. If you're gonna fuck her, you're gonna fuck her properly. She's on birth control, so no more of that condom shit.

A. (11:32 p.m.): You sure? She okay with it?

Joel M. (11:32 p.m.): She wants it. Too damn nice to ask for it.

Joel M. (11:33 p.m.): Just get yourself tested. Let me know the results.

Somewhere in an apartment across town, Andrew is rubbing a hand over his face, not quite believing his luck but not quite knowing what he's got himself into.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #cuck!joel #coveted fics

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Don't Speak 37

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Get ready for Andrew Barber's masterclass in manipulation.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Your disbelief gives way to panic. You gulp and gasp for breath as you collapse onto the carpet, hugging yourself as you sink into horror. You’re repulsed by your own body, trapped in your own skin. A monster. Just as horrible as you always suspected.

Selfish, worthless, thoughtless. Your doubts calcify to certainty. You are a bad person.

But you don’t want to be. You never wanted to be. How can you be so terrible despite your best efforts? You have to be better. You have to try harder.

You heave and lift yourself on a shaky arm, rubbing your damp cheek as you sniffle and look around. Your head throbs but you won’t be sleeping that night. The violent churning in your stomach won’t let you. You don’t deserve to rest. You have too much to do.

You get up on tremulous legs. You find it hard to balance as the swirling haze of wine turns to a groggy pulsing in your temples. You massage them as each step sends a thump through your skull. You try to shake it off but it only gets worse.

You move carefully. You did this to yourself. You drank even after Andy warned you not to. You ignored him all day like a spoiled child. You did whatever you wanted and then you… hurt him.

You start with the kitchen. It’s already tidy from Amber’s help but you wipe down the counters to be certain, then you get out the mop, leaning heavily on it as you sponge the tile to sparkling. You move on to the dining room; surfaces, floors, and even the curtains. You sus out every speck of dust and dirt.

You find yourself sitting, folded over as you cradle your head and catch your breath. You’re weak and shaky but you keep going. You get up and return to the front room. You give pause before the couch, the throw pillows knocked this way and that, one on the floor. You tidy them and refold the blanket on the back neatly.

It’s too late to vacuum but you do your best to sweep around the edge of the carpet. You go to the mantel and straighten the ornaments that seemed to distract Steve that day. You stop at the thought of the doctor and nearly sob. What do you tell him? How do you tell him what you did? He would know what you are. What would he think?

Your teeth chatter despite the warm air. It’s not the temperature but your own fatigue that sets you to shiver. You carry on, making a careful progress through the large house. You suffer over every inch. You don’t know how else to show your remorse but to make everything perfect. Everything but yourself. You will never be perfect, you are inextricably broken.

The dawn rises and you let yourself rest in the bathroom. You rinse your face in cold water, trying to wake up. You take some painkillers for the beating in your skull and grip the sides of the sink, weary and worn.

A flicker catches your eye. You glance over at the white shower speaker. He must’ve replaced the batteries. You stand straight and roll your shoulders back. You’re not done. You will never be done. This task, not the cleaning, no, but you, trying to fix you, that’s something you’ll always have to work on.

You go back to the hall and stop short. You peer down towards the bedroom door; Andy’s. It’s silent and the edges are dark. You shudder out a breath and cross to the guest room.

You enter the solemn space and search for a new outfit. You pick out something he bought for you, that you know he’ll like. You tuck a white blouse into the brown corduroy skirt that buttons up the front. You match the outfit with a pair of stockings to warm your tingling legs.

You emerge, feeling stronger but hardly better. You descend the stairs, his silence and the stillness of the house suffocating you. You drag your feet into the kitchen and tie the apron on as you begin. You take out one of the cookbooks and search for the perfect breakfast.

The hours pass swiftly as you set to work. You focus on each ingredient, each step, as you put together the pieces. A quiche with the most perfect savoury crust. The scents rising around you tug on your stomach, the dregs of wine leaving your stomach barren and acidic.

You brew coffee and put together a tray. A mug, a plate of quiche, fruit salad, napkins, and cutler. You balance it all and turn to the long journey upstairs. It feels like a treacherous path. You fear you might not reach your destination and you wouldn’t be surprised if you’re turned away.

You stop at Andy’s door, like the gates of some vaunted castle, and swallow down your fears. You knock with your foot, careful not to cause too much of a clatter. No answer comes as you stew in the silence of the large house.

You turn your shoulder to the door and lean in, “Andy?”

Your call wilts into the still air and you wait. You clear your throat and try again, speaking louder this time. The crackle of your voice is harsh amid the empty lull. You listen, a rustle coming from the other side, and a sniffle.

Your heart catches in your throat as you face the door head on. The lock clicks as the handle turns back and a small slat of space opens between the edge and frame. Your eyes meet Andy’s single on, peeking out sheepishly.

“Good morning,” you try to be chipper, “can I… I brought you breakfast.”

He stares and blinks. His gaze falls to the tray in your hand. There’s a glisten across his iris.

“Andy,” you sniff, “I’m very sorry about last night.”

He closes the door and you stand dumbly in your dejection. You look down at the tray. You’re stupid to think food could solve the problem. That you could ever apologise thoroughly for your offence. You can’t take back what’s been done.

You take a step back but stop again, the tray rattle treacherously as the handle twists back again, this time with more force. Andy still wears the same clothes as the day before. His hair is dishevelled, his beard with short shanks jutting out at the chin, as he keeps his face down. With slumped shoulders, at a slight angle, he stands back.

“We can talk,” he utters in a fractured timbre. He sounds like he’s been crying.

You bow your head and step into the room. You go to the console table and lay the tray there as it starts to shake with your nerves.

The bedsprings compress as he sits with a heavy sigh. You keep your back to him as you try to sort out the pangs in your chest and stomach. You turn slowly on your heel. As he sits on the side of the bed, the glare of the lamp illuminates his features and the dark bruising along the left side. His eye is almost entirely swollen shut.

You gasp and cover your mouth. He keeps his eyes down meekly, as if trying to hide. You can’t believe you did that to him. How could you have done that? With just one hit?

“I’m so sorry,” you creak out through your dry throat, “Andy, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to– I didn’t sleep all night, I feel so rotten–”

“Enough, dove,” he hisses, “enough.”

“Please,” you beg as you step forward only for him to flinch. You stop and clutch your hands in front of your chest; he’s afraid of you.

“I…” he begins and swallows thickly. He shakes his head and reaches to brush his fingers through his beard, only to wince again. “I… I love you, dove.”

Your eyes gloss as you watch him. You see how he musters his strength to look back at you. Never had anyone looked at you like that. Afraid.

“I love you, too,” you eke out.

“So…” he quavers and clears his throat, “so let’s move past this.” You see him struggle as he grips his thigh and forces his posture straight, “I won’t make you mad again and you won’t hurt me, right?”

It’s like a punch in the gut. You could keel over right there.

“I wouldn’t ever–”

“You did,” he insists, “dove, it’s not that you hit me, it’s… you broke my heart last night.”

“I’m sorry, I really am–”

“Sorry… doesn’t always fix things. I can’t forget last night, but if it doesn’t happen again, I can live with it,” he utters each word as if it hurts, “promise, dove, promise you won’t ever hurt me like that again.”

“I promise,” you spit out desperately, “please, I never meant to hurt you. I wouldn’t ever– Andy,” you bring your hands around your throat, trying to pry away the invisible fingers squeezing you, “there’s something wrong with me. I want to fix it. I… someone hurt me…and maybe that’s why…”

“I understand but it isn’t an excuse,” he reproaches, “you can break that cycle, that’s why you go to therapy… I’m starting to think that’s not working though.”

“N-no, it is– I–”

“Have you told Steve about who hurt you?”

You reel and shake your head, digging your nails into your own throat, “no…”

“So how are you fixing yourself, dove?”

It’s an accusation. That softness is gone and the razor is back in his voice. You frown and shrug.

“I’m trying–”

“Not hard enough,” he says, “look at me.” You do, you see the purplish blue bruises and his swollen eyelid. You see what you did. “If this happens again, you have to go. We can’t stay together. I won’t let you…” his timbre turns sandy and lowers his chin, “do what my ex did to me.”

He sniffles as he hides his face. Your heart clenches and you slowly inch towards him. Before you can get to him, he stands and staggers around the bed. You freeze as he clamours into the attached bathroom and the light flicks on. The harsh yellow blaze shines into the bedroom.

You daintily pad around after him and stop just before the doorway. He grips the frame of the mirror as he looks at his reflection. Tears trickle out down his cheeks and he looks down, gulping tightly.

“I didn’t… I didn’t look before,” he wipes his nose, “Dove, I couldn’t…”

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, “I… I’ll leave. I’ll…” you blink furiously at the thought. Where do you go? You can’t go back to Amber, she doesn’t deserve someone like you. “I’ll go–”

“Where?” He asks.

You don’t have an answer.

“Then I’m the bad guy,” his words grit, “no, we’ll… work on it. Promise, dove, promise you’ll do better.”

“I will, I swear,” you plead, “I… will you eat breakfast?”

He flinches, slowly turning his head to peek at you, “breakfast?”

“I… I wanna take care of you. You need to eat. I… I made it for you. Special.”

His lashes flutter and he looks down at the sink again. He nods as if steeling himself. He pushes himself straight.

He turns to face you completely but before you can back away, not wanting to crowd him, you’re swept up in his arms. He hugs you to him, smothering you in the scent of his sweat and deodorant. You lock up as you let him squeeze you.

“I couldn’t sleep without you,” he whispers as he rocks you with him, “as much as you hurt me, I couldn’t. Dove, I need you.”

You slowly bring your arms up and wrap them around him. You feel how big he is. For a moment, you’re in awe that you could ever make him so afraid. You? How? His strength tightens around you, tight enough to force the breath out of you. Tight enough to break you if he wanted to.

“I didn’t sleep either,” you confess.

🕊️

You clean up the tray. The shadow of the previous night looms over you but you try not to let it consume you. The plate is clean but for a few crumbs, the fruit salad was quickly snapped up, and Andy is sipping his second cup of coffee as you lift away the remnant of his breakfast.

“That was good,” he praises over the brim of his mug.

“I’m glad you liked it. Happy you ate,” you say as your own stomach growls painfully.

“I got you to take care of me,” he smiles even as his cheek ticks. You’re both thinking of the unsaid, trying to ignore the ghost in the room with you.

“Can I–” you focus on his mussed hair, an unusual sight, “can I run you a bath?”

He seems taken aback. He tilts his head and sips again. You hold the tray in front of you, fearing his rejection.

“Of if you need space…”

“No, that would be… nice,” he rasps, wetting his throat with the coffee before continuing, “dove, I’d love a bath,” he licks his shining lips, “with you?”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes round. It isn’t just the idea of sharing the tub, but the hope of his offer. It isn’t forgiveness but it’s a start. He’s not casting you out.

“Y-yes,” you squeak, “y-yeah, I’ll go… I’ll go clean all this up and get the tub going.”

“Honey,” he pats his stomach in content, “you’re so good to me.”

You can only nod. It’s another reminder. You weren’t good to him last night. You paint a smile on your face and step back on your heel.

“Let me just get this to the kitchen–”

“Don’t I get a kiss?” He prompts before you can back up.

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” you carry the tray closer, “I didn’t know if you wanted… one.”

“Always, dove,” he leans over and offers his puckered lips. You give him a peck as he hums. As you draw back, he purrs, “perfect.”

Your smile quivers on your lips. He watches you as you glance down at the tray. It’s awkward. It’s going to be for a while. You won’t ever forget this. He accepts you, even the bad parts. Even when it hurts.

“Love you, dove,” he says.

Your eyes flick up to meet his, “love you too… honey.”

His face brightens, “I like that,” he beams, “when you call me honey.”

“You do?” you bat your lashes.

“It’s like a song,” he says and teethes his lips, his eyes drifting away from yours, “beautiful like the rest of you.”

You squirm and squeeze the tray. You slowly turn away, the empty dishes rattling with you. The knot in your chest just won’t untangle. You want it to be alright but it still feels so wrong.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #steve kemp #defending jacob #fresh #series #fic #don't speak #au #library au #dark fic #dark!fic

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caashmoneynae · 5 months

Text

HALFTIME.

JORDAN POOLE x BLACK!FEM!OC

SUMMARY: in which Teja goes to one of Jordan's games and ends up engaging in sexual activity in the locker room. ✨

❦

"𝗜 𝗞𝗡𝗢�� 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧'𝗦 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬!" Teja exclaimed, a smile on her face, as her dark brown eyes sparkled at seeing Jordan make a three-pointer and she clapped her hands loudly, the area she was sitting in erupting in loud cheers while she watched her man and his team travel down the basketball court.

(A/N: pronounced 'TEA•JUH')

"let's go, Poole!" Monaé, Teja's best friend, exclaimed, hyping the man up and boosting his ego, as she and Teja smiled in sync and they watched their team play defense.

the teams were in the second quarter and there were only 5 minutes left on the clock. the Golden State Warriors had 56 points — leveling up from 53 due to Jordan's shot — and their opponent had 53 points, diminishing their tied score and causing both crowds of fans to get antsy since halftime was coming up and they wanted their team to be in the lead.

Teja and Monaé both dressed in Golden State Warriors apparel, but Teja's was more customized because Monaé did it for her. her shirt was long-sleeved and royal blue and on the left side of her chest, it said "Basketball Girlfriend" as "Warriors" sat on her left sleeve. on the back of the shirt, it read "Poole Belongs to Me" and under it read his jersey number as all of the words were spelled in gold letters since royal blue and gold were two of the team's colors.

her brown legs adorned black jeans and her feet held white Air Force 1's as a gold anklet dangled around her left ankle and gold hoops sat in both of her ears, a gold 'T' necklace sitting comfortably around her neck while a gold necklace that read 'Jordan' in cursive sat there as well. her black silk-pressed hair was side-parted and swooped to the right side as a few bobby-pins sat in her head to make sure her swoop stayed in place, her lips glossy with Vaseline and adding a 'pop' to her appearance.

it was clear as day that Teja knew she looked good, and though she preferred silver jewelry over gold, she always made sure to wear some gold to all of Jordan's games.

hearing cheers, Teja's eyes averted to the clock, and she realized that not only was there one minute left before halftime, but the other team had tied with the Warriors for a second time. she looked back at the court and her gaze intensified as she lightly chewed on her bottom lip, the time running down quickly while the Warriors traveled down the court with the ball.

Draymond Green passed the ball to Stephen Curry, and Stephen passed the ball to Gary Payton II, and Gary passed the ball to Jordan, who passed the ball to Andrew Wiggins. it seemed as if the time was only winding down quicker and quicker, and this caused Teja's palms to grow sweaty while her eyes flickered between the clock and the court.

as if on cue with the clock hitting 10 seconds, Andrew began making his way to the basket, swiftly dodging the opponents that tried to stop him while his teammates played excellent defense, as he suddenly jumped up and dunked on the men below him, the ball going through the net with ease and the buzzer sounding out into the lively court while Teja and the other fans began cheering.

"can't wait 'til our boys take home that dub, Mo'!" Teja smiled, the two women standing up from the stands, as Monaé smiled with her and the two began to walk down the staircase behind the other fans.

"girl, who you tellin'? one more win and we goin' to the playoffs, baby! ooh, i can't wait to celebrate!" Monaé smiled, holding onto Teja's hand so they wouldn't be separated by the large crowd, as Teja looked up at the scoreboard and read '58-56', making her smile slightly widen while she looked back at Monaé and the duo made their way to the concession stands.

"oh yeah, we fa'sho' gon' celebrate this win. and then after that... i'ma give my baby his reward, ya feel me?" Teja smirked, playfully raising her brows, as Monaé laughed and shook her head, playfully shoving the woman's shoulder while Teja laughed.

"T, you a trip! but i feel you, girl, no doubt." Monaé smirked as Teja stuck out her tongue and the two did their handshake, their pinkies locking at the end while they giggled.

"ooh, hold up. Mo', hold my purse, i'ma go to the bathroom real quick," Teja announced, taking her phone out of it and putting it in her pocket, "i'll be right back before halftime ends."

"you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Monaé asked, grabbing the purse from the woman's hand and slinging it over her shoulder.

"nah, you good, 'Naé, i'on want you to lose your place in line," Teja assured, looking down and checking the time on her Apple Watch, as she looked up at Monaé and gave her a small smile in reassurance, "make sure to buy me some nachos, mama! you know how i like 'em."

"will do, Mrs. Poole!" Monaé smirked playfully, watching Teja jog away from her, as Teja laughed and shook her head, a wide smile on her face while she made her way to the restrooms.

the farther Teja was from the crowd of fans, the more the loud sounds of them began to turn into low murmurs, and she tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans as she made her way to the woman's bathroom. before she could walk into the restroom, however, a large hand grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into a room, making her squeal out of surprise, as she watched the door to the room shut and she saw lockers in the corner of her eye, making her realize she had been yanked into the Golden State Warriors's locker room by no one other than Jordan.

"you know i hate when you do that shit!" Teja exclaimed, punching the man in his arm, as Jordan laughed at her and pressed her up against the door, kissing her lips while he sneakily locked the door.

"you still love me tho', girl," Jordan chuckled, a small smirk on his face, as he eyed her down and ran his tongue over his plump lips at the sight of her attire, "mm, you look good. who you lookin' this good for, baby?"

"nobody but my man," Teja smiled, cupping his face in her hands, as she placed a few pecks on his lips before giggling, "now why you bring me in here? you got 8 minutes left before it's time for you to go back on the court."

Jordan didn't respond to her question. instead, his smirk only widened, and his nonverbal answer immediately clicked in Teja's mind as to why she was pulled into the room so abruptly.

"uh-uh, Jordan, i know you not tryna'..." Teja trailed off, raising a brow, as Jordan chuckled softly and his brown eyes looked into her dark brown ones while lust started to cloud his pupils.

"oh, i'm definitely tryna'..." Jordan smirked, mimicking her past statement, as he let out a low chuckle of mischievousness before kissing her lips, the kiss oozing with passion and causing Teja to procrastinate on kissing him back while his hand latched around her neck and pulled her closer to him.

falling into the temptation rather quickly, Teja kissed Jordan back and she soon melted into the kiss, making his lips curl up into a smirk, as he let go of her neck and tugged at the waistband of her jeans, pulling away from the kiss and trailing wet kisses down her jawline while Teja's breathing turned uneven due to rising arousal.

"you movin' real slow like we ain't got a lot of time in here." Teja breathily mumbled, kicking off her shoes, as Jordan chuckled softly and his hand slipped into her pants before he swiftly removed them and made sure her phone remained unharmed.

"i know what i'm doin', mama," Jordan muttered, his voice slightly deeper due to sexual desire running through his veins, as goosebumps spread across Teja's skin at the tone of his voice and Jordan noticed this, a smirk crossing his lips while he placed a few wet kisses on her neck before tapping her left thigh, "jump."

wrapping her legs around his waist, the two kissed for a final time before Jordan hoisted her up onto his shoulders, carefully lifting her smooth legs onto his muscular biceps while she lightly scooted up on the smooth wooden door so her hips would be level with his face.

it was definitely safe to say that this wasn't their first rodeo.

"pull these to the side for me, princess." Jordan spoke lowly, his eyes flickering up to her, as Teja bit down on her bottom lip and gripped the right side of her panties, pulling them to the side and revealing her soaked sex while Jordan licked his lips at the sight.

not wasting any of the short time they had left, Jordan immediately dug in, his pink lips wrapping around her swollen bud while he gently sucked at it like he was a baby and her clitoris was his pacifier. moaning softly, Teja gently laid her head against the door as she ran her fingers over Jordan's head, her brows slightly furrowing while his hands squeezed her thick brown thighs.

"sh-shit, Jordan," Teja moaned airily, her brows slightly furrowing, as she felt his tongue slither and wiggle inside her folds and her hips lightly jolted against his face, "mmh, eat this pussy, Daddy... eat your pussy just like that, baby."

"like that, mama? hm?" Jordan hummed against her, sending vibrations through her core and up her spine, as Teja shakily whimpered and her back slightly arched off of the door, her grip on her underwear tightening while she rubbed the nape of her boyfriend's neck.

"yessss— o-oh, shit!" Teja gasped, feeling his middle and ring fingers slide inside her walls, as her palm gently smacked the door she was pinned up against and her eyes rolled back, feeling soft kisses be littered around both of her inner thighs while her juices began to drip down Jordan's hand.

moans, whimpers, and whines fell from Teja's two-toned lips and sounds of her gushiness aired out into the room as her eyes fluttered closed and her hand moved from the nape of his neck to his hand on her right thigh, gently squeezing it while she shakily exhaled. Jordan's fingers thrusted inside of the woman at a slow and semi-deep pace and he laid kisses around her vagina, occasionally laying some on her clit and causing her hips to jolt.

suddenly, Jordan's fingers curved, and Teja's whole body jolted as tingles almost immediately dispersed through her body, her grip on Jordan's hand tightening while she gasped loudly.

"oh, fuck, t-that's my spot!" Teja cried, feeling Jordan's hand slither underneath her shirt, as he pulled one of her breasts out of her bra and kneaded it in his palm, his index and middle fingers fiddling with and tugging at her sensitive nipple and earning feeble whimpers from her parted lips.

"right there? huh, pretty?" Jordan cooed, his eyes staring up at her with a combination of lust and mischief, as Teja vigorously nodded her head and her eyes rolled back, "ooh, you 'bout to cum, ain't you, baby? i feel that pretty pussy clenching, mama, you 'bout to wet my face up?"

Teja felt the pace of his fingers start to pick up and each thrust had him poking at her g-spot as her stomach muscles tightened and she let go of Jordan's hand, her hand sliding underneath her shirt and gripping her second breast out of intense pleasure while she practically gripped the life out of her underwear. her thighs began to tremble and her lips rested agape as Teja suddenly gasped and her stomach caved in, her body jolting and her brows furrowing while her legs locked on the man's shoulders.

"y-yes! oh, yes, yes, yes— fuck, baby, i-i'm cummin'!" Teja whined loudly, her hips grinding against his fingers, as Jordan laid his tongue out flatly and caught her nectar atop his pink muscle, causing a shiver to go down Teja's spine while she rode out her orgasm.

"there you go, beautiful. ride that nut out." Jordan cooed, a small smirk on his face, as he licked his lips and gently pulled his fingers out of her erogenous walls, slipping them in his mouth while he sucked her juices off of them and looked up at her.

sighing softly, Teja raised her head from the door and looked down at Jordan, noticing the smirk on his face instantly, as she let out a soft laugh and shook her head, removing both of their hands from underneath her shirt while she put her breast back into its cup.

"we ain't never doin' this again." Teja chuckled softly, letting go of her underwear, as Jordan chuckled and lowered her legs back down to his waist, her legs loosely locking around his hips while he kissed her lips.

"You know damn well this shit gon' happen again, T."

#x black fem reader #x black reader #black girl beauty #smut #jordan poole #nba #oc #one shot #black stories #black culture #black community #black love #black people

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