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sinceileftyoublog · 2 years

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Kyle Hamlett Duo Interview: Into the Grey

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Sometimes, all it takes is a few instruments, an old house, and two free days to make magic. Such was the case for Tape Diamonds (Arrowhawk), the new album from singer-songwriter Kyle Hamlett and pedal steel extraordinaire Luke Schneider.

Hamlett and Schneider played together for a long time in Lylas, a psychedelic band centered around Hamlett’s compositions that saw a rotating cast of members and last released an album in 2017. Since then, Hamlett started to release finger-picked folk songs under his own name, including his debut solo LP Nowhere Far. Schneider, meanwhile, started to make his name as a session player for the likes of Margo Price, Orville Peck, and Lilly Hiatt, all while becoming a key player in a burgeoning Nashville scene of ambient Americana and receiving loads of critical praise for his 2020 new age pedal steel album Altar of Harmony, released via Third Man Records. Over the winter, Hamlett took advantage of fortunate timing and brought a batch of songs, guitars, harmonica, melodica, percussion instruments, and a Tascam 388 tape recorder to a heat-less house off of Music Row, inviting Schneider to lay his woozy pedal steel and dobro over some compositions that followed the Nowhere Far writing sessions. The result was Tape Diamonds, an appropriately named record that finds breadth in the smallest of moments.

The songs on Tape Diamonds contain roughly the same ingredients: Hamlett’s acoustic guitar, self-described “impressionistic” lyrics, and laid-back, gentle singing, and Schneider’s glistening pedal steel. Yet, each of them give off distinct vibes. Opener “Expected Of” is quietly jubilant, with its jaunty picking and buzzing harmonica. “South”, on the contrary, dabbles in melancholy and nostalgia, similar to the type of Americana that Schneider practices on his solo records and with Nashville Ambient Ensemble. Engineer Jake Davis captures eons of emotion with simple effects, like the trailing echo on Hamlett’s voice on “ZZZ”, fleeting like a ghost of someone’s past. Some of the very song titles reflect the push-pull of Hamlett and Schneider’s paradoxically simultaneous qualities; “Almost Motion” and “Fast As Vaseline” could be tags on Bandcamp attached to Tape Diamonds. Best, the two players revisited existing tunes with the same plaintive, yet adventurous spirit with which they approached Hamlett’s new songs, adapting Lylas’ “Years & Years” and The Smiths’ “Death of a Disco Dancer” to contemporary ears.

Last month, I spoke with Hamlett over the phone from his house in Nashville about Tape Diamonds, working with Schneider again, winter, and his current relationship with The Smiths. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: What made now the right time to finally sit down with Luke and record Tape Diamonds?

Kyle Hamlett: It was a timing thing. Lylas for a long time had been a rotating cast but had settled into a pretty steady lineup around the mid Aughts. A couple of those guys got really busy with other projects, and we couldn’t work on as much Lylas stuff. I didn’t want to call anything I was doing that didn’t involve them “Lylas,” so I gave myself permission to do stuff under my own name, which I had been resisting for a long time, for whatever reason. In doing so, I got back in touch with Luke, who was having a pause in his busy schedule. We just dove in. I wrote those songs right after I had written some other songs that would end up being my first “solo album,” so it was this burst of writing that felt like a bit of liberation and [a realization that,] “I can do this by myself, or I can do this with Luke, and it will be just a two-piece.” [I] was reigning it in, a bit less structured.

SILY: How would you compare working with Luke in a full band versus working with him in just a duo?

KH: That’s a great question. In a larger band, there’s less sonic space to ask for. He does such beautiful, textural things so well, he stretches out more and leans into that. He’s a very sensitive listener, and no matter the setting, doesn’t put anything in that doesn’t need to be there. He’s not a guy that plays just to play. That sensibility remained. But by nature of the sparsity of the duo thing, he had more room to put his psychedelic textures in the forefront.

SILY: Yours and his guitar playing, by virtue of both your playing style and the quality of the instruments themselves, are distinct. The songs that start with you versus the songs that start with him end up with different feelings. How did you decide who would come in first on each song?

KH: Certain songs felt a bit more open. Most of them originated from songs I had written on the guitar and showed to him, so if there was one with a busier finger-picking pattern, it made more sense for me to start it or for us to start together. But if it was a slower, more spacious one, with a deliberate or dragging tempo, it was nice to have a bit of a color there [for Luke to provide] a sonic bed for things to sit in. The tempo and feel of the songs suggested that to us.

SILY: Was there something in general that inspired the lyrics?

KH: It depends on the song. A couple were definitely inspired by specific instances and experiences I’ve had. They’re all kind of impressionistic. I like dream-like lyrics and lyrics that leave room for the listener’s imagination. I don’t want to dictate too much what you’re supposed to be experiencing. A lot of them were born from what the music seemed to suggest. Even the ones based on some real-life experience tend to be abstracted.

SILY: Did the time of year you recorded Tape Diamonds have an effect on the final product? Do you find it a particularly wintry or pastoral record?

KH: I tend to shift. One winter, I’ll want rock and roll, and another winter, I’ll want something soft and acoustic. But we principally recorded it on a very cold day in this old house on Music Row, and Luke literally had a blanket on his pedal steel to keep it in tune. Everything was slipping and weird, and the [heat] was out. That’s definitely infused in my memory. [Tape Diamonds] doesn’t feel inseparable from that to me. I feel like I wrote some of the songs in a summer/fall kind of state. But it definitely works for winter and colder weather.

SILY: The great irony of Chicago winters is that even when it’s bitingly cold, it’s so blindingly sunny. I feel like the shimmery nature of the music will be a good soundtrack to a Chicago winter.

KH: “Shimmery” is a perfect word for Luke’s textures. Chicago winters: I’ve only been there a couple times, and they feel pretty brutal. I’m super impressed whenever I meet somebody who has lived there for a long time. It’s pretty hard not to be beaten down by the consistent cold.

SILY: There’s no such thing as bad weather--just bad coats!

KH: I like that.

SILY: Did you have a general approach to the sequencing of the record, or at least to groups of a couple tracks that sounded good back-to-back?

KH: We were thinking of the flow of everything, sonically more so than thematically or lyrically or with any kind of arc. It was just about what seemed like a good start, what seemed like a good way to follow that up, and what the next song needed. It was intuitive. I remember sending it to Luke, and he had one or two suggestions, but it was something we both agreed on pretty quickly. We can sometimes have very different opinions and know what we like or don’t like. I was surprised we agreed so quickly.

SILY: I really like “ZZZ”, which is a very fleeting song, even in terms of the trailing on your voice. To follow it with something as expansive as “Night Nurse” was very effective.

KH: Thanks. Some of them are a little more expansive and long, and we didn’t want too many of them in a row, or some of the shorter ones [in a row, for that matter.]

SILY: What’s your and Luke’s relationship with The Smiths, in the past and now, and how did you approach the cover?

KH: We both have historically liked The Smiths quite a bit. I remember in one of our first conversations, I was very much responding to Morrissey’s lyrics and poetry and vocal approach, and Luke was very into Johnny Marr’s radical and unconventional guitar arrangements and structures. We were geeking out. We bonded over them for a long time. A friend’s wife told me years ago she thought Lylas should cover “Death of a Disco Dancer”, and it never happened. For some reason, I thought it would be fun to do that now since we were playing together again--Luke was playing pretty regularly with Lylas at that point. It was fun to cover the Lylas song “Years & Years”, too. That was one of the first songs Luke played pedal steel on, so it was fun to have a reunion on that one. But back to The Smiths: I can’t fully speak for Luke with where he’s at with them now. Morrissey is obviously a problematic, opinionated, toxic guy in some ways. But the poetry and music in that song in particular still speak to a higher truth for me most of the time.

I heard somebody in an interview refer to Woody Allen as “the late Woody Allen.” I thought, “Are we going to have to start referring to Morrissey that way, too?”

SILY: Why did you release “Expected Of” as the first single?

KH: That was one of the last ones I wrote. I wrote that one and “New Orbit” after the initial reacquaintance of myself and Luke. I wrote it in a burst of inspiration by how easy and fun it was to play with Luke. Because it was the newer of them, it was more exciting to me than some of the songs I was thinking about for a while. There’s also an immediacy to it, which I like. It doesn’t have pedal steel, so in a way it’s a little unrepresentative of what you get from the rest of [Tape Diamonds], but I like that. It sets you up to be surprised. It’s not an encapsulation of everything. It [also] sounded great to me. [Engineer] Jake Davis got great guitar, voice, dobro, and percussion sounds.

SILY: “New Orbit” is one of a few song titles on here that get at the vibe of the record, the contradictory nature of the record being both expansive and immediate. The other are “Almost Motion” and “Fast as Vaseline”. They’re paradoxical and appropriate.

KH: I like paradoxes in words and phrases and sounds. It’s nice to think about the context of just the sound. We’re shooting for something a little more extensive and mysterious. One of my favorite things is to have a lyric almost immediately contradict itself. I’m thinking of The Beatles’ “Revolution”, when John Lennon sings, “You can count me out--in.” It goes along with especially what he’s saying, such a bold anthemic statement immediately undercut in a way that somehow gives it more gravity to me. That’s something I’ve always responded to. I very rarely trust absolutes. The grey areas are always more interesting. Contradictions are more thought-provoking to me.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the album title?

KH: Funny story. We recorded [Tape Diamonds] on Tascam 388. I actually had a little reel of tape I took to the first session, [thinking to myself,] “This album’s gonna live on a little piece of tape.” If we botched the take, we would record over that take. A couple times, if we did the song a little faster, when we got to the end, there would be a little residual bit from the previous take. Are you familiar with the musical term “diamonds,” where it’s just a big open hit, like, “Dunnnnnn”? [Because] there are a couple songs that end and then end again. The one that made it onto the record is “Rocky 13″. You hear it end and then a little flash from the previous take. We kind of just coined those “Tape Diamonds,” and I liked the phrasing of it. It’s also a contradiction, if you think of tape being very analog, sticky, visceral, and tactile, and diamonds being a more glamorous, regal, hard thing. It’s a neat, evocative phrase to me. It’s funny it was an in-joke that started during the sessions.

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art?

KH: That’s from a photo my wife took. She’s a visual artist, and when I have a project nearing completion, I start talking to her about it. She’s usually very familiar with the material and where it’s headed. I don’t think I had any ideas, really. She had taken the photograph and asked what I thought about it. I showed Luke, and he and I had talked about it a bit. He liked a lot of private press new age LPs and wanted a sensibility that felt a bit like that, so he thought this was perfect. Another thing we could have not landed on so easily, but something about that photo hit the right nerve for all of us.

SILY: What else is next for you?

KH: There’s nothing left over from this session, as far as I recall, but I’d love to do more with Luke. We haven’t begun that process yet, but I have a couple songs I’d like to do with him. I’d also like to open it up to more 50/50 collaboration if that’s cool with him. If he’s making his own ambient pedal steel music at the time, he might not have energy for it. But if he’s in the zone, it might be cool for us to build up the soundscapes together and have it less of me coming in with my song and adding his beautiful textures to it. It would be fun to have it happen a little more in the moment, in the room. We’ll see what actually shakes out.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately you’ve enjoyed?

KH: I’ve been catching up on Stranger Things. I’m a Kate Bush fan and am thrilled [“Running Up That Hill”] is in most peoples’ ears right now. Hopefully, that will make the human race more positive and understanding people, having that little bit of cosmic heaven in their ear. But I haven’t reached that season yet; I’m at the end of season 3. I’m reading Carl Jung’s autobiography right now, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, which is incredibly fascinating. I’m listening to a lot of Bryan Ferry, Roxy Music, Robyn Hitchcock, and The Cleaners From Venus. Midnight Cleaners has been on heavy rotation; “Only a Shadow” is a timeless piece of music.

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heenuna · 2 years

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draw those chalk suns again

pairing: artist!reader / childhood friend!sunghoon

genre: angsty & smuty fluff, a little bit cottage core

warnings: dom!reader, sub!sunghoon, smoking (cigarettes), selfharm, friends-to- lovers, cheating, lotsa crying, slight mention of suicide, toxic relationship, bathroom masturbation, unprotected sex (use condoms plz) —> creampies, mention of public sex (sex in a car), also the reader is a little bit savage and says inappropriate stuff sometimes

word count: 12.6k

a/n: i've never tried writing angst before so just let it be /ᐠ｡‸｡ᐟ\ also it's the longest fanfic here so i hope you'll enjoy it!

the design is inspired by @fallinforgyu (yep im not creative when it comes to designing headers im sorry)

tags: @donghoonie-3

masterlist here

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bin: «sorry, i'll text you later.»

me: «yeah, sure.»

of course, he won't text back.

and he won't call back.

and he won't even show up for the opening of your exhibition, which you've been preparing for so long. he won't come, and it's not your fault. and obviously not his one.

when did you two become so distant?

you don't even remember the last time you held Soobin in your arms, the last time you buried your nose in his soft hair, the last time you gave him a morning kiss..

those moments flew by and crashed into the rocks. you can't save them now. they're gone.

it's harsh.

it's very harsh to realize that the once beautiful garden of your love has become forever burnt in withering ashes. what fire took away all your dreams and forced them to fade away?

you don't know.

does he know? unlikely.

it's just that at some point your heart started to cover with a crust of a burning ice of his silence, ignoring and ... disappearing?

yes, you have already begun to forget the features of your once-beloved face, of his face, and it's begun to dissipate like a morning mist over a quiet field, as if it never existed, and the only thing that somehow reminds you of its existence is the dew. the purest kind of tears that you shed every day, morning and evening.

they fall from your lashes and race down your cheeks, flowing like little streams at the beginning of spring.

you're in pain.

you wish you could drown yourself in them, but they only blur the fine outline of your pencil sketches.

indeed, the drawing book is soaking wet. it's your fault, crybaby.

with trembling fingers, you scroll through the pages, occasionally exhaling nicotine smoke from your lungs, but the river of pain only increases its flow, and you begin to drown in it, making soft, not at all like you moans.

your throat is already aching from the endless howling, but how can you stop grieving for a love that died so suddenly before it could bear its first fetals? it's horrible.

another loud sob, and you swallow back the lump that has built up in your throat. did you feel better? no.

page by page, and on each of them there is a smiling Soobin’s face. his eyes are like crescent moons, dimples in his cheeks are so fine and deep, a straight row of white teeth..

he's perfect, but right now, when you look at his perfection, you don't see anything. just a cold emptiness. only the pain echoes from your head to your heart, shattering it into millions of small pieces that you'll probably never put back together. is it worth collecting them?

page by page..

«hmm, his face's still here..» a sudden remark goes through your hysterical mind when your eyes don't find Soobin’s face, but someone else’s familiar one?

straight, like out of a drawing textbook itself, nose; lovely moles and lips that looked like the petals of a newly opened rose..

Sunghoon.

even if you tried very hard, you wouldn't be able to remember how long you'd known him, but you knew for sure that you were close when you were playful, carefree kids.

memories of these fleeting moments of joy take you, as like through a portal, to the days of your childhood. little you draw funny suns with chalk on copper barrels, and your friend Sunghoon just watches you, holding the lizard he just caught with his baby fingers. he pouts, his cheeks are puffed out, and his eyes are fixed on your hand as it circles so easily.

you're a real sorceress, no doubt.

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«Sunghoon, hand me the white chalk,» little you commands efficiently, but the boy doesn't even move as he looks at your drawings.

«why?»

«i wanna draw clouds.»

«why?»

«i have to, there are always clouds,» you chuckle, reaching out for the other chalk, but Sunghoon quickly releases the lizard and grabs your hand, and shakes his head, frowning. you look at him with a look of displeasure and surprise. a silly boy.

«you don't need clouds because there are lots of suns,» Sunghoon stares at you, his cheeks puffing out even more as he presses his lips together. why doesn't he like clouds?

«but there must be clouds..» you whisper softly, and he shakes his head again.

«no clouds, just the suns. i won't let a single cloud ruin your suns.»

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damn, you smiled for the first time in so long. it turns out that it's so nice to be distracted from the life you've chosen for yourself. what a coincidence.

«i won't let a single cloud ruin your suns.»

should you..?

you flip through a few more pages, and then a few more until they're all full of Sunghoon's face. here he is 12, and this is your first attempt to draw a portrait.

oh, and here he is already 15, and he doesn't look so good with straight bangs!

15, 16, 17..

wow, the album is over. you squeeze the soft cover between your fingers in frustration and bite your lower lip, tossing your drawings aside.

are you angry with yourself? yes, you are.

as soon as you moved from your parents' house to the big city and he went off to study god knows where, you became estranged. Sunghoon and you have become significantly distant, unfortunately. of course, at first you texted each other almost every minute and the galleries of your phones were filled with your photos, but now..

now everything's different, and you can't bring it back. your friendship, his promise and your best portraits are left behind, the destroyed bridge can not be restored. it's harsh.

your heart starts to spasm again, and tears one more time fall from your eyes, eyes that were once happy. what has become of you, little girl who draws suns with chalk?

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an hour, two, and you get up from your chair, despite the weight on your shoulders. your feet wander reluctantly up and down the spacious apartment, but why does it feel so cramped, so stuffy?

maybe it's just the heat of july.

involuntarily looking out of the window, you see clouds of smoke, handfuls of people and a boundless sky covered with clouds of different colors and shades. a thunderstorm is coming but you can't hear the thunder or the screams of people. you're too wrapped up in your own thoughts, too disillusioned with your life and yourself.

you need to call your mom.

your fingers automatically reach into your back pocket, pull out your phone, and as you do a couple of swipes, a beeping sound fills your empty head. from the other end you can hear a calm and gentle «hello, daughter!»

daughter..

oh, you've gone from being a beautiful daughter to a dead fool.

you mumble a friendly «hi, mom» and then your conversation becomes easier, you definetely calm down when she starts telling you about the harvest of potatoes, onions and carrots, how beautiful the lilacs are blooming in your garden, how all the neighbors are doing and what's new with them..

«remember, when you were a kid, you were besties with Park Sunghoon, his family still lives at the very end of the suburb. he recently came home for a couple of days, and i saw him out of the corner of my eye. oh, he grew up into a fine man! he's so handsome now, _____, you should see him, I bet he still remembers you!»

..what?

your heart skips a beat so fast that you don't have time to breathe, and your eyes just widen in mute surprise. is Sunghoon there now?

«i see, mom, well, he's always been fine, so..»

«no, _____, he's not just fine, he's like a prince from a fairy tale! oh, if only the devil wouldn't let you get into an affair with this office worm Soobin..»

«mom!»

«what?! listen, pack up your pencils and come home, you've been away for too long,» mom adds plaintively, and you'd certainly be happy to say no and that you with your Soobin go on a cruise or something like that, but alas, lying to your mother is not good, and you quickly agree.

and, of course, you're collecting your things quickly as well.

your underwear, another set of clothes, pencils, paper, phone, charger, lighter, cigarettes, that's it, your bag is ready. but are you ready?

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as soon as you pull on your sneakers and unbend, your eyes fall on the mirror and you see your haggard, faded reflection. dark circles under your eyes, fluffy hair, fingers smeared with pencil..

will he like..?

stop.

no, no sunghoon, you're going to see your family, that's all. you have a job, a man, you are well off, you have recently opened your own exhibition, you are happy.. or not?

you try to convince yourself that during the two hours you spend getting back home. the taxi driver, a sweet 30-year-old girl with red and curly hair, is carefully driving an old, almost rotten, car, but that's the last thing you care about. looking through a small window, you see the way skyscrapers turn into trees and shrubs that seem untouched by humanity, and you feel at home for the first time in months. for real.

stopping right in front of your home, the girl turns around, and you give her the money, so she just smiles cheerfully, putting it in the pocket of a denim vest worn over an orange dress. she gives you her card, you give her a small portrait of her, and her powdered cheeks turn pink.

«thank you, call me when you decide to come back,» she babbles, and you smile, nodding. the car door slams shut and you press your lips together.

go back?

you don't want to go back.

not now.

and not later.

never.

the freshness of the forest, the warm embrace of your mom and the kind laughter of your dad are too good to leave again.

not now.

while you're settling into your old room, which hasn't changed since you left, your parents don't stop talking to you about the neighbors, and you're happy to listen and not get caught up in their chatter, as long as they keep talking. it's so nice to be back here, and it feels like the first time you've met the girl you once were. what would you like to tell her? how can you help her?

nah, to hell with her, let her go through all the difficulties herself and become as confident as present you are, and then she will get out of it herself. yes, that's right.

your tired body sinks down on the soft bed, and you almost dissolve into the comfort of your home, like sugar at the bottom of a tea mug, but your mother doesn't let you fall asleep, suddenly deciding that you just need to walk around the neighborhood and get some fresh air, city exhaust is so harmful for your young lungs.

with a quiet «yeah, sure» you take all the necessary things, namely the phone and cigarettes with a lighter, and go outside, followed by a kind look from your parents at your back.

a soft, fine rain falls from the sky and you lift your head up, enjoying the cold massage of caring drops. your chest still aches, but it doesn't matter. you look around with sleepy eyes and push your hair back up as you head down the hill, hands in your pockets.

your white shirt, half unbuttoned so that everyone can see the black top underneath, flutters in the light wind and gets wet from the rain, and soon begins to stick uncomfortably to your body, making you shiver. well, at least loose jeans do not let the cold pass, otherwise it would not be so fun and easy to be treated for cystitis..

you really want to smoke.

you're almost take out a cigarette, but suddenly a familiar woman calls you out and carries you away in a boring conversation that you would love to leave, but your mother taught you to be polite, so you continue to have simple convos with all the familiar aunties, so you don't even notice how your eye catches the house of someone you would not want to see, but who you totally missed.

Sunghoon's house.

you think the birds in the nearby bushes are singing his name, but do you care? you just bite your lips, clutching a pack of cigarettes and your phone in your pockets, and walk past it without looking at its fence, its roof, or its mailbox. to hell with it.

to hell with him.

your walk ends in a thunderclap. the birds instantly die down, the wind picks up, but you're in no hurry to come back home. your heavy thoughts carry you further along the road, past abandoned, dilapidated barns and cottages.

a sad picture.

loud weather.

quiet rage.

the raindrops are getting heavier, and a streak of lightning crosses the sky. nicely.

you quickly look around and, not finding a better option, decide to turn off in the direction of the barn familiar from childhood, where you with Sunghoon were so fond of playing hide and seek.

it hadn't changed, it was still damp and cozy, but did Sunghoon change? he did, there's no doubt.

damn, this guy is not going to leave your thoughts, and you accept this as you walk along the hay that has long since begun to decompose. the old boards creak loudly under the soles of your already damp sneakers, but you just ignore it.

you really want to smoke..

after wandering through the islands of your memory, you decide to stop in the opening of a large gate through which horse carts once passed, and lean one shoulder on the jamb, not thinking that the old paint tends to fall off and deftly stain light clothes. it's raining outside. you should have stayed in the house, but at least you can smoke here.

your fingers quickly take out a cigarette and squeeze its thin base before being pressed with your saliva-covered lips. you've been smoking for a long time and you don't need to be taught, which means you can just as quickly pull out a lighter and light the very tip in one movement.

you take a puff on your cigarette and slowly release the smoke.

are you feeling better?

no, but at least it looks beautifully.

you take a couple more puffs, idly watching the landscape of your native fields and streets, and then you notice something new: a white car.

it catches your attention, and you narrow your eyes slightly as you watch its slow move. behind the wheel there is a dark-haired guy in a whiteshirt like yours, and next to him, in the passenger seat, there is a blonde girl. the long-haired blonde girl you've never seen in your life.

another second, the guy parks the car and turns to his companion, you see his profile and there is no doubt: Park Sunghoon.

Park Sunghoon and his girl.

what a sweet picture.

you bite down on the cigarette filter a little and puff on it harder, not taking your eyes off them. one minute he was pushing both seats down, the next he was leaning over her, her arms wrapped around his neck..

of course, fucking in a car in the middle of a field is almost a literary trope. you lazily look up at the sky and sigh, letting out the last puff of smoke. the cigarette falls into a puddle and dies on contact with its surface.

just as your naive hopes of turning your life around for the better die, just like in these dramas.

shattered desires.

although, can you call it a desire? you just came home. you can also just go back to your concrete cage.

that's the end of the story.

you turn on your heel, graciously leaving. Sunghoon and his girlfriend get the privacy they deserve, and you go back the same way home like a dog beaten up in the yard: slow, sullen, and seemingly too calm to fuss about its injuries.

just twenty minutes of quiet walking and you can see the lilac garden and your mother again. she doesn't ask you anything, literally reading your expression like a simple pamphlet, and suggests you take a shower. you agree, because the raindrops are a little sticky. and it would be worth drying your clothes.

you don't feel any heat or cold, just kick off your shoes and quickly slip into the second-floor bath, your favorite, with a glass shower stall, which you just climb into and turn on the hot water pressure, standing there, enjoying the close solitude. your tired hands, clutching a tiny washcloth, slide over the cold skin, and for a second you imagine, what if Sunghoon touched you? would his touch have been just as warm, or would he have been rougher?

your thoughts get a little muddled, and you shake your head, pushing them away from you. you don't care about him. and his life is none of your business. let him fuck with his girlfriend and be soul mates with her. and you..

and you...

your eyes fill with self-pity once again, and you let two small tears fall to the tiled floor of the shower, but only two. no more, no less. you're not 15 to suffer because someone is living their own life, right?

another 5 minutes and you crawl out of the stall, quickly dry off with an old towel and wrap yourself in your dad's old robe. so cozy, it still smells like his cologne.

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the next three days are the same: you get up early, go to bed late, and draw a lot. the days of your present become the days of your childhood, so serene and gone forever.

sheets of paper are filled with sketches of flowers, people and trees, so frivolously and freely you draw that you yourself might be ashamed of it, but alas, you do what you want, you live as you want.

of course, periodically you check your phone, hoping to see a message from Soobin, asking where you are and if you're okay or not, but he's silent. and your heart is silent, too. does it beat?

you are sitting on the windowsill, the window is wide open, and the wind easily gets into even the most secret corners of your room. your hair is pulled up in a messy bun, your white shirt is still on top of your naked body, and your dark underwear doesn't escape the sly breeze, and you just smile as you enjoy the summer silence.

in your hands rest sheets of paper, drawn and scribbled. you look at the drawings with a satisfied look and straighten your shirt, lowering it a little lower so that it shows your cleavage.

vulgar? maybe, but you're home and you can go naked if you wanna.

who's going to look at you here in the middle of nowhere?

«hey, _____, why aren't you visiting me since you've already arrived? or have you forgotten how to say hello?» a painfully familiar voice shakes the air around you, and you take a deep breath before turning and lowering your head to the sound source. right from the ground on you, the same sunny, filled with youthful warmth, look eyes of the same Park Sunghoon, who you left by fate a few years ago.

he's wearing the same white shirt, and you can't help but feel the kinship you've been trying to hide from all these days. your friend, Park Sunghoon, it's under your windows again.

you can't help but smile, «and you still haven't learned not to copy my style?»

his grin widens, and you can hear him laughing as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his old, already battered pants. his shoulders lift up a little, and you can see the line of his slender collarbone. indeed, it would be such a pleasure to draw him again. he is as handsome as hell.

«when did you get here?» his question makes you laugh too, turning your eyes away to the sky.

«about four days ago. and you?»

«about a week.»

«that's great.»

he pauses, not taking his eyes off you, and you know it's not your friend's eyes anymore. it's the look of a once-familiar man. a strange look. you watch him for a moment, grinning like a fool.

an idiot. you are an idiot.

«i missed you.»

such simple words cause a storm of different emotions in you, and you do not know how to respond to it. on the other hand, it would be so nice to leave reality for a little while and feel special, but alas, reality is too hard to forget about it.

«and i missed you,» you say, pouting the way he usually does. and he notices it, copying you. you smile as you take out a cigarette and pinch it between dry lips. Sunghoon frowns.

«do you smoke?»

«yep.»

«for how long?»

it's a stupid question, but who cares? your heart speeds up involuntarily, and you nod, smiling guiltily at him.

«two years.»

«quit it,» he replies dryly. what is it, care? it's amazing to feel someone's care again. it's strange though.

«i don't want to.»

«why do you always need clouds around you?» it looks like he hasn't forgotten his verse. he hasn't forgotten that conversation or anything else. did he remember all this, too?

you raise your eyebrows a little and then blow out a puff of smoke. out of the corner of your eye, you can see him fidgeting around, so you smile as you look down at him again.

«i don't have any suns left, Sunghoon,» you smile guiltily again and shrug, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, «but i'm glad you have one.»

that blonde girl.

he watches you climb out of the window for a few more seconds, then waves back when you close the window and shake your hand awkwardly against the glass, barely holding back the tears.

you'd secretly like Sunghoon to give up anything for you, hug you and comfort you, take you somewhere far away and hide you from all the worldly things, like in stupid love shows, but life doesn't turn out the way you want it to. you should leave as early as possible.

tears roll down your cheeks once again.

───────────────────────────────────────

after another 2 days, you run into Sunghoon outside, and now that both of you are standing on the ground, you can see how much he has grown up and what a huge difference in height you have now. his broad, strong shoulders, his tall frame, probably strong hips.. you get lost for a moment, looking him up and down, while his girlfriend squeezes the sleeve of his shirt a little irritably. you smile inwardly, noticing it.

«we should go now, it was nice meeting you, _____," she says softly, pulling Sunghoon away to the side, and you nod, smiling at her just thinking that he was looking at you with the same appraising gaze that you were looking at him.

───────────────────────────────────────

3 more days later, you finally get a message from soobin, and honestly, you're happy to get it:

_____.

there's been a lot of coldness between us lately, and i don't want to suffer in this relationship any more, just like you do. they have outlived. sorry about that, i'm really sorry. i'll pick up my stuff in a few days, but you've sort ofleft, so i'll be gone by the time you arrive. thank you for all your kisses and for all the happy times we spent together. i'm really sorry. and i'm sad about it as much as you are.

i wish you happiness,

soobin.

reading these words, you can't help but think that your heart can't forget Soobin and throw him out as a bad sketch. the way he breaks up with you breaks your heart, and you squeeze the phone in your hand until it hurts, taking another puff. tears mix with nicotine, and the pain in your heart - with their own fragments. painfully.

pushing the strands of hair back and leaning your buttocks on the old well, you bite your lips and turn off the phone, putting it in your front pocket so you don't have to think about anything else. not Soobin, nor about your miserable fate.

what a fool you are.

the tears flow down in an unruly stream, and you can't stop them. the lonely field before your eyes, as lonely as you are, is blooming, and you are truly envious of it. will you ever blossom?

the cigarette smolders slowly in your hand, burning your fingertips, and you don't notice how you turn the filter over in your hands and press it hard against your wrist. the pain instantly snaps you back to reality, but you don't move the cigarette away from your skin, watching the scar forminv. that's how selfharm starts, right?

«what the hell are you doing?!» a familiar voice calls out to you from the side. you're not in a hurry to turn around, because to see Sunghoon is like dying right now. don't, please, let him go.

his broad figure coming towards you is comparable to a huge tsunami wave that pounces on the ground like a hungry beast on its prey and devours it completely. and so Sunghoon looms over you, glaring at the results of your little «mischief» before snatching the cigarette out of your hand and smashing it out completely on the rocky base of the well. he's angry.

«why are you hurting yourself?» the tears fall even harder from your eyes, but you don't let yourself look at him, no. so broken, destroyed, pathetic you can't afford to look at such happy, successful, achieved at least something in life sunghoon. no, no, no, he has nothing else to do with you. you just need to forget about each other.

«_____?»

the way he says every letter of your name breaks you even more. you recall moments from your childhood: your walks; how you spent hours playing the console in your home; your night trips to the field.. all this seems like a dream or an unfulfilled desire left for later, but not the reality that you have lived for more than 10 years. these memories are so blurry, can you draw them again?

finally, you gather your courage and look up at him, your eyes wet and puffed from crying too many times. he looks into your eyes with a familiar, warm gaze and pouts again, cupping your cheeks with his big palms.

you don't resist, inhaling the scent of his cologne and something fresh, and just tilt your head a little so you can nuzzle your nose into his wrist, close your eyes, and let a few more tears fall down to his sneakers. he doesn't say anything.

«i'm sorry you see me..» the lump in your throat prevents you from speaking properly, you try to swallow it, but it stays in place, so you say the end of the sentence on the exhale, barely audible, «like this..»

if only you could hear his heart breaking just from apologizing to him. what are you apologizing for? why are you crying? a lot of questions flash through his mind, but a loud clap of thunder interrupts his thoughts and all the questions that follow.

not expecting to hear something so loud, you flinch hard and abruptly lift your head from sunghoon's hands, to look at the sky. it's almost black because of the clouds. like the day you saw Sunghoon and.. damn.

your tears mix with the massive raindrops falling on your faces. thunderstorms do not take long to arrive, and in just a few moments, ordinary rain becomes a downpour. your clothes quickly get wet, and you quickly get up from your seat, looking at how your shirt sticks to you. sunghoon's one almost blends into his skin, leaving no room for imagination. you can't help but notice how beautiful his muscles have become. you should draw him again.

«you're going to get sick, we need to get home soon,» you say shortly, biting your lip in time to the thunder, «my house is closer, let's go to my place, we need to dry you out.»

he listens to your commands in silence and only nods when you take him by the hand, as in childhood, and lead him along, at a fast pace for you and usual for him. at such moments, you feel that nothing has changed, sunghoon is still so obedient. this is good for you, you don't need to convince or persuade him again.

with every step you take, the rain gets harder and harder, and you start to feel like you're walking down the street naked. the shirt is plastered to your every muscle, and you're wearing nothing but it. as good as that Sunghoon walks behind you.

damn, his fingers are so warm.

it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter when you turn the key in the lock and open the door wide, nodding your head in its direction. sunghoon understands you without further ado and goes inside first. you join in and listen, but the house is completely silent. no one's home. you are alone.

in the past, the thought like that would have stirred you up, but now you look up meekly and Sunghoon looks at you the same way. for a second, you think he's looking down at your chest, which is visible so clearly right now, but you're just imagining it.

he lazily takes off his soaked sneakers and saunters over to the familiar bathroom. you follow him, crossing your arms over your breasts to cover yourself.

«take a shower or bask in the water, you can hang your things up here and let them dry,» you say quietly, pointing to the radiator, and he just nods, not turning to look at you. with a quick flick of his hand, he opens the faucet and starts adjusting the pressure, as if you're the one who came to visit him, not him.

«i'll go look for some clothes for you..» you're just about to leave for the second floor when all of a sudden sunghoon turns to you, starting to undo the top buttons of his shirt.

«is he here too?»

you stare into his eyes in disbelief, and you can almost feel how heavy his gaze is right now.

«who?»

«your boyfriend. is he here too?» on the word "boyfriend" sunghoon squirms unconsciously, and you bite your lip at the memory of him. Soobin. your nose is sobbing treacherously, but you just shake your head, forcing out a short «no». he visibly relaxes.

«your dad should have some kind of robe, i think it'll do,» the guest suggests, and you nod.

«okay, i'll get it.»

what a stupid dialogue it is. you feel a little guilty about being soft, but now is not the time to let your guard down. your feet carry you to your parents' bedroom, where you quickly find the robe you were talking about to sunghoon and that you've been using all these days. it looks like it's going to be a little too big for him, but that's not a problem, is it?

you smile for the first time this day, clutching the soft cloth in your hands. you look at the dark brown patterns and, without even looking, find the bathroom you left your guest in.

«Sunghoon, i found it..» your exclamation is not meant to be finished, alas. when you step into the dim bathroom, the first thing you see is a nearly naked childhood friend. your eyes quickly, without hesitation, run along his muscles, along his arms, chest, stomach, go around the waist down to the hem of his underwear. does he have a boner?

the distinctive bump is clearly visible under the wet cloth, and you'd be glad to look at it a little longer, but you still lower your head down and hand him the robe, which he takes with some care.

«_____, go warm up too, you're all wet.»

his voice sounds kind of funny, and you look up at him again. you're not embarrassed, but your heart beats a little faster when you see his smile. and it looks like you can't help but smile back.

«yes, when you're done, go upstairs..»

«to your room, yes, i remember,» he nods, smiling even wider at you, and you nod back, moving out of the bathroom and closing the door behind you. as you go upstairs, your thoughts are floating somewhere in another universe, but not here, not in our mortal world.

for the first time in a long time, you feel a sickly-sweet tingling sensation in your stomach and chest, and it's not because of crying at all. it's something different, something you haven't experienced in what feels like forever or more.

this.. attraction?

you can't get your own thoughts out of your head as you scurry back to your room to get an old bathrobe, they're still there, but you need to get rid of them somehow.

but how?

you don't find an answer as you close the door of your favorite bathroom on the second floor. reflection in the mirror is not happy: your hair is soaking wet and clung to your head, you look tired and your eyes a a little puffy from crying. yeah, you're like a dream, for sure.

this is annoying.

everything is annoying.

your fingers start nervously fiddling with the unfortunate buttons in an attempt to unbutton your shirt, and it takes you a while, but you still win this mini-battle. the wet cloth falls to the cold floor with a characteristic squelch, and you look in the mirror again.

your nipples harden.

you can't believe what you're seeing, and you don't let your eyes go down, clutching your aroused buds between your fingers. a pleasant sensation passes through the stomach, and for the first time in a long time, a pleasant, lingering spasm is felt in the perineum. your eyelids close of their own accord, and you squeeze your fingers together again, trying to feel it again. another wave passes through your tense muscles, and you feel something leaking out of you, something warm and sticky.

with convulsive, trembling hands, you unbutton your jeans and kick them to the floor, tossing them aside. your fingers don't dare take off your underwear for a while, but you have to check, so you just close your eyes, pick up the edge of the underwear with your fingers, and pull it down. yes, the feeling didn't deceive you.

when you open your eyes, a huge slick spot appears in front of you absolutely and without any doubt, adorning the thin fabric. you still don't believe it and lean down a little to take in the awkwardness of the situation, but you're even more embarrassed when you see your already red, aroused clit glisten with accumulated smudge that threatens to fall to the floor in a sticky drop. damn.

after a moment's thought, you quickly throw off your underwear and socks and quickly climb into the stall, leaning against the cold wall and not daring to turn on the water. on the one hand, it is necessary to quickly remove these shameful traces of attraction to someone else's boyfriend, but on the other.. your palm quickly turns on the faucet and you adjust the temperature on a whim before sitting down on the still cold floor of the stall and spreading your legs.

it's been a long time since you spreaden them.

just that one movement gets your mind in the right place, and you don't hesitate to put your hand down to where you need it most right now. your fingers slide gently between your layers, and you exhale noisily, not knowing when you got so wet.

you start circling your clit with your fingers and brushing it here and there, your body tightens in a pleasant spasm. your entrance squeezes the void, and you look down in frustration at your other hand, or rather, at the fingers, middle and ring ones.

they won't be enough, you know that, but there are no other options, so you quickly bring them to your mouth and cover them with plenty of saliva before lowering them down and slowly entering them inside of your pulsating pussy. let it be a small stretch, but it does its job, and you start to slowly move them in and out, trying to somehow rid yourself of at least this burden.

what if Sunghoon..

at any other time, you would have dismissed the idea right away, but now that your pussy is squeezing your slender fingers so tightly inside that you can barely move them, his help doesn't seem like such a crazy idea. just the thought of his long fingers pressing down on all your sensitive points, of his cock stretching you perfectly, of his lips covering your breasts with a million sweet kisses and hickeys, drives you crazy, and you pick up the pace.

your fingers slide better and faster, and you smile to yourself as you press down on your clit as hard as you need to. a few more manipulations and you come right on your hand, but does that stop you? no.

the desire seems endless, so you continue to rub the already sensitive clitoris with your palm, without taking your fingers out of yourself. just a little more, just a little more, and you come for the second time, and your body goes limp.

you throw your head back and bring your legs together, slightly shaking from the recent stimulation. it feels so good.

leaning against the wall, you get up and lower your hand down again, circling your clit with one finger. it throbs pleasantly and responds to every slightest touch. too bad you left all your dildos at home.

with a frustrated sigh, you finally start washing up. shower gel, a washcloth and hot water relax you a little, washing away all the remnants of pleasure from your body. soon you're done. in the mirror, you reflect even if a little more calm, but still you. how embarrassing.

you frown a little, realizing that you're so fucked up, but it doesn't matter. sunghoon will never know about this, and you will try to push this memory far away, never thinking about it again. masturbate while thinking about sex with Sunghoon, «it's a taboo, _____, accept it.»

a few more preparations and you're ready to get dressed. underwear and bathrobe. not the best combination, but it will be awkward if only Sunghoon will be almost naked. it's worth supporting a friend.

in fact, maybe somewhere deep down, you hope that your most delusional and tender scenario will come true, but it will be as it will be. you pull the robe tighter around you to hide your still aroused nipples. damn.

as soon as the bathroom door opens, you immediately feel a chill pass through your body and your nipples tighten even more. the fabric that wraps them tightly begins to act differently, exciting them with just a harmless rub.

you bite your lips, feeling your underwear get wet once again. awkward. you're like a schoolgirl.

the sound of the downpour doesn't stop, and you decide to go to the window, brushing your wet hair back so it doesn't fall over your face. there's a bit of fresh air and ozone coming out from under the window frame, and you smile to yourself as you rest on the windowsill.

the storm has played out in earnest and formed an unbreakable wall of water that seems to separate your home from all the others, turning it into your own world, in which there is no one but you and sunghoon. You wish this rain would last forever..

you sigh sadly, but before you can think any further, a large, warm hand wraps around your shoulders and rests on one of them, stroking the fabric of your robe with its thumb. Sunghoon. Park Sunghoon.

«don't stand near the window right after your bath, you'll get sick,» he mutters softly, easily turning you around and guiding you toward your room, along the hallway. you don't resist, just cross your arms over your chest, trying to mentally calm your sensitive chest.

«do you want some tea?» you ask, looking up at Sunghoon, and he shrugs, licking his lips.

«actually, i've warmed up enough, i'm even hot.»

you nod and tilt your head down, frowning slightly. thoughts like «can you warm me up too?» or «hmm, i'm cold, cac we have a naked cuddle?» flash through your head, but you quickly dismiss them when you're done. sunghoon puts you down to walk around the room he hasn't been in for so long. his eyes are so bright when he sees all the old posters, figurines, stones and other nonsense that you collected as children.

it's hard to see anything in the dark, so you turn on the light. it's a little dim, just like when you were a kid, but you've always liked the dimness, so you don't mind. your hand slowly closes the door, like you used to do before, but for some reason now all these gestures seem somehow too adult, somehow wrong.

you sigh as he walks around, looking around, and go to the window to draw the curtains. you have to spread your arms in different directions to reach the edges of the curtains, and this causes the robe to open up a little. panic spreads through your body, and you freeze for a split second before pulling the curtains together as quickly as possible. your hands are reaching for the edges of the robe in a hurry, but some of them do it before you do. you can feel with your whole body how much you're excited. Sunghoon is warm as his fingers expertly and quickly tie the belt of your robe. your heart seems to skip a beat again when sunghoon rests his nose against your ear, rubbing the tip of it just a little, not letting you out of his embrace.

«_____, it's been so long since i've been here, nothing has changed at all.»

you can't help but smile at his comment, realizing that you're not the only one who feels pleasantly nostalgic about being in this place again, after all this time.

«yes, it's exactly the same as before.»

Sunghoon awkwardly pulls you closer and you panic. the knot in your stomach slowly gets tighter and tighter, the fabric of your underwear sticks uncomfortably to the wet folds, and your chest fills with a pleasant thrill. it seems like you're finally just accepting the fact that Sunghoon isn't your friend anymore, and he never will be. you no longer see him as a neighbor's boy, you see an adult, a man you need so much. and this is painful, because the reality is completely different, and someone else has taken your place in it.

your place.. was it ever yours?

«just like that, down to the last detail,» he repeats after you. his lips, moving as he speaks, quickly brush against your cartilage, and you get goosebumps from head to toe, relaxing and tensing at the sametime. does he feel how crazy you are?

«Sunghoon, listen..» you try to start, but he cuts you off, not allowing you to formulate what makes your chest ache so unpleasantly.

«_____, wait..» he stops you to wrap both arms around your waist and pull you even closer, so that at the slightest swaying of your hips, you can feel it..

«Sunghoon, you..»

«i'm sorry, _____, but this is really unbearable. i know you're probably disgusted by this, but i can't help it,» he murmurs in your ear, squinting slightly as his hips rock into yours once more and you can feel his robe-covered erection rubbing against your thigh. he's excited. you're excited.

is it possible to..?

«are you talking about your boner? it's okay, it's a natural reaction,» your words comfort him a little, and so when he slowly turns you around to face him, you don't see any blind passion or crazed excitement in his eyes, just something familiar and warm.

«tell me, did you know about my feelings?»

«your feelings?»

«yeah, did you know about them?»

taken aback, you shake your head slightly, tilting it to the side as he speaks. sunghoon lightly squeezes the fabric of your clothes between his fingers, creating a risky situation where that flimsy robe might open up.

«no, i didn't know. i still don't know.»

his eyes, which are glued to you, are slightly blurred, and he bats his fluffy lashes, licking his lips as your hands rest on his forearms, gently massaging them with your fingers, «Sunghoon, is there something you want to tell me?»

he swallows loudly, looking down before mumbling, «you know, these past few years have been full of different things, i graduated from university, got a job, got back on my feet, but..»

«but?»

«but i never stopped remembering the time when we were kids, and when i could see you every day, in this very room.»

hell, that sounds like a confession. what should you do? be silent or speak? smile or make a serious face?

«did you miss our childhood?» your tone sounds gentler than you'd like, but you're too focused on it to think about anything else. your hands squeeze him a little tighter as he continues.

«i missed not only our childhood, i missed my adolescence and youth, because that's when i realized..»

«realized what?»

he is deliberately slow, not knowing how to start, but you can already predict the answer, and you don't even need to think again. your hands slide down his arms to his chest, and for the first time, you feel someone's heart beating as hard as if you were holding it in your hand.

your eyes meet again, and as much as you want to look away, you can't. sunghoon can't do it either. his fingers tighten around the fabric of your robe, and you begin to feel your body slowly being exposed.

«_____, i've been in love with you for so long. of course, at first i thought that all those sweaty palms and perpetual boners just looking at you were just a youthful thing, but just a week ago, when i saw you drawing on the window, i felt so happy and sad at the same time. you were so beautiful, so grown up, so close and distant at the same time, that i didn't have the slightest doubt that it was all serious from the very beginning.»

Sunghoon says his confession in one breath, and you just stare at him blankly, not understanding how it happened. he.. does he love you? you mean, does he really love you, like those stupid boys in the books?

you get lost in the storm of your own feelings. it would seem that your dream has come true, and your most desired plot has come true, but why don't you believe it? why can't you be happy about it?

«do you love me?»

a nod from the guy across from you doesn't calm you down, and you close your eyes to take a deep breath. sunghoon thinks you're angry, so he rushes to continue his explanation, afraid to leave out something important.

«when i found out that you started dating that jerk, my heart broke and i was determined to forget you, but when i saw you back then, i....»

«Sunghoon, you already have a beloved one.»

your words cut through his heart like a knife, and it starts to bleed, to bleed out all the love that he has so carefully kept all this time.

«why are you thinking about her now?»

his question seems so silly that you just tilt your head up to the ceiling and inhale again before looking into his eyes, raising both palms to cup his face and gently stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs, «because you're hurting her right now.»

your answer makes him frown, and he puts his hands on top of yours to push you away from his face, but your grip is too strong and his is too passive, so after the first failed attempt, he gives up, waiting to see what you'll say next.

«Sunghoon, you're such a wonderful guy, and i'd be lying if i said i don't care about you at all. well, just half an hour ago, i was touching myself in the tub, thinking about you,» the details make his cheeks and ears turn red, and he licks his lips, biting them right after, «but i also know it's wrong to mock her like that. i'm sorry, i don't remember her name, and i don't care.»

an awkward silence falls between you. sunghoon tries to put every word you say into his head, «you've always been so considerate of everyone, i like that about you, but..» he tilts his head to the side and reaches for your face. your hands should have stopped him, but you just let him get closer and stop a few inches from his face, «it's so infuriating right now.»

your tongue moves nervously across your upper palate, making a clicking sound, «i don't want to be the cause of someone's tears.»

«_____, i fuck her with my eyes closed, imagining you in her place. do you think she doesn't know that? you were the cause of her tears from the very beginning. and it's only my fault that i was so foolishly hoping to replace you with someone else, i'm ashamed and i'll apologize to her later, but now,» you can feel his slow breath on your lips, «i want to make love to the girl i've been dreaming about for so many years. will you let me cross this border, _____?»

you've never been good at making decisions, and now that you have to do one of the most important things in your life, your mind is failing you. you don't know what to feel or what's right, you don't know what you should do, but you're sure of what you'd like to do. morality and immorality dance together, but what exactly do you prefer? fall or rise?

you can't help but smile as you look up at him again. Sunghoon looks so fine, so you're being absolutely sure, say «yes» in the affirmative.

his eyebrows twitch a little, and his gaze falls on your lips, so desirable and close. he gets lost, not knowing how to do it, and so he looks into your eyes again, looking for the answer, «can i really?»

you nod. he repeats after you, but still doesn't find the confidence to do what he's about to do, so you grab the collar of his robe and pull him to you, letting him get into a deep, tender kiss. even though you haven't been to france, you are very familiar with french kissing, unlike sunghoon. he awkwardly follows your tongue, twisting around it and trying to catch the moment to suck it slowly, but you're much faster. the tip of your tongue quickly passes over the top row of his teeth and, stopping there, curls around his tongue.

his whole body feels like it's on fire. you can tell by the way his hands are hot as he takes off your robe and then slides it down your stomach, not knowing where to put it. if you hadn't seen that scene in the car, you might have said he was definitely a virgin.

when his hands finally make up their minds to touch your breasts, you mumble a little through the kiss, but you don't ruin it in any way. instead, you gently take his hands in yours and show him how to do it. he learns quickly, and it's not long before you feel yourself getting wet again.

«yeah, that's right, baby, go ahead,» you encourage. his face flushes even deeper when you let out a soft moan as his big palms graze your sensitive bump so well.

«suck them,» Sunghoon looks up at you, slightly surprised, and his fingers tighten a little on the flesh of your breasts, making you bite your lip in impatience. has he forgotten how to do everything?

the affectionate nickname seems to have some sort of effect on him, and he freezes, not knowing how to react. did you scare him?" you raise an eyebrow, not sure if you've said the wrong thing. why does he hesitate?

«i've never done anything like this...» he replies sheepishly, as if mesmerizing your breasts with his bewildered gaze. should he lick them, or bite, or suck them? what is the algorithm?

«but you're not a virgin, have you never touched your girlfriend's titties?.»

«ex-girlfriend's.»

«..okay, ex-girlfriend's titties this way?»

not knowing how to answer this question, he lowers his head and simply shakes it from side to side. his cheeks are puffing up again and,wow, this is the moment when you just have to take matters into your own hands.

«okay, then i'll teach you what i like, and you'll just be an obedient boy and do whatever i say, okay?»

your words echo through his head, leaving behind so many questions and so few answers. will you teach him?"

«an obedient boy?» Sunghoon is so quiet and restless, you'll have a long night ahead of you, you're sure of that. your next affirmative nod doesn't calm him down, and he almost bites his lip until it bleeds when you start to run your fingers slowly, gently down his cheeks and neck, leaving little trails of goosebumps on his skin.

«my dear sunghoon's a little confused, right?»

Sunghoon doesn't know how to react. the blush is slowly spreading to his neck and shoulders, and he's breathing a little harder than usual. over the past few years, few people had called him dear, much less tried to baby him. all these new petnames like «baby» or «my boy» seem so foreign, but so.. desirable? Sunghoon can't explain why his cock twitches so pleasantly every time you call him your baby.

this is all some kind of trick, no doubt.

«are you happy, honey?»

here we go again. sunghoon feels a translucent droplet form on his tip and slowly trickle down the shaft. he's in a kind of sweet anticipation that makes his head feel hazy, and he just nods, looking at you from under his barely-closed eyes. it may be difficult to do this, but he admits to himself how much he likes your every word and every movement.

a soft, hoarse «yes» wraps around your wounded, tortured heart like a balm, and you seem to be slowly recovering. Sunghoon is like a kind doctor, and you are his prodigal patient who took several years to find her way home.

«we need to lie down,» your fingers massage the base of his neck and tangle with the short hair at the nape of his neck. just that one touch makes Sunghoon shiver pleasantly as he nods, turning you both towards the bed. you walk backwards, never taking your eyes off him, and you smile, mentally thanking yourself that you didn't go back that day after all.

Sunghoon seems to feel the same way, leaning in for another kiss as his hands gently lower you to the bed, and he hovers over you as if you were his prey.

silly boy.

your playful smile through the kiss encourages him, and he tries to deepen it himself, albeit clumsily. warm hands on his shoulders relax his tense muscles, and he finds the strength to never let go of you again, not for a minute, not for a second, and never again.

«it's not fair that you still have your underwear on,» he mumbles, and you grin, giving one last chaste kiss to his lips.

«undress me then,» your wish is his command. he quickly settles down next to your knees and then, looking at you, slowly slides his hands up your calves to them, trying to impress you with his tenderness. his touch feels deliberate, and so you just relax, giving him as much willpower as he needs.

and he's happy about it. he is glad that his hands can rest so freely on your knees and spread your legs wide. he's happy to see the big, sticky stain on your underwear, knowing he's the reason of it. he's happy to see a few glistening threads running from your folds to your underwear as he undresses you. and, of course, he is happy when he notices how slowly, but quickly, more and more wetness flows out of you.

«you're so wet, _____,» he says in amazement as a small, clear drop leaves the confines of your core and drips down your skin onto the sheets. at the very thought of what this drop could be delicious, Sunghoon's head gets more cloudy.

«yes, and it's all because of you, Hoonie,» you agree, spreading your legs even wider so that he can enjoy the results of his work to his heart's content. naturally, you've never done this before, and you're feeling a little self-conscious, but sunghoon won't know about this. let him think it's no big deal for you.

before you can get an answer, he's already leaning closer to your crotch, intending to eat you out completely, but you bring your legs together just in time so that his nose is directly on your knees. Sunghoon frowns in displeasure.

«____ , what is it? spread them now,» Sunghoon tries to be bossy, but you both know perfectly well that you've always been the leader between the two of you, which means you're in charge. when you sit up, you just shake your head and smile.

«have you forgotten that you have to be obedient?»

«but i am a ma..» he mumbles, but your hand covers his lips just in time before he can utter such an absurdity.

«your dick doesn't decide who's in charge, Sunghoon,» he narrows his eyes a little, licking his lips so that he can run his tongue over your fingers, «get this crap out of your head and let's learn how to please me.»

he has no choice but to nod, and you take your hand away. his saliva is still warm between your fingers, and you defiantly lick it off, making your little brat blush.

«now take off your robe and lie down on the pillows, baby.»

the amount of embarrassment Sunghoon experienced is indescribable. he has never expected you to be like this. he felt like he was going to hover over you, you were going to spread your legs, and you were going to do exactly the same thing as.. the realization hits him hard when he finally leans back against the pillows and watches you push his robe aside and get up to lock the door.

your hips, swaying slightly from side to side, look very different from what the so called «yours» looked like. you have a different waist, different breasts,different shoulders, everything is different, and therefore sex should also be different.

he bites his lip a little, wondering what will happen next.

his eyes follow yours you quickly turn the latch and turn to face him, smiling the same way you used to when you were a kid. except that you used to close the door to make some harmless craft or bird feeder, and now you're both naked and ready, as a religious Sunghoon's aunt would say, give yourself up to all your sins. how embarrassing.

the closer you get to him, the more tense he gets.

«you have a very nice cock, Sunghoon, i can't wait to get on it,» you mumble sweetly, sliding your fingertip from the base to the tip, tracing a circle around it. his cock twitches as if in response, and Sunghoon sighs through his teeth, averting his eyes.

«but first, let's learn the basics,» you draw even closer, and then again, your chest slowly sways with each movement sunghoon really finds it hard not to stare at you like you're an exhibit in a lab. damn, damn, damn.

Sunghoon circles your hips out of the corner of his eye, noticing the enticing glint of your inner thighs, and soon feels it all over himself as you sit on his stomach and put both hands on his ribs, still smiling.

he doesn't look away from you.

«so, baby, look, i like it when you raise your palms like this,» you cover his hands with yours, slightly crossing your fingers, and begin to lift them up, under the chest, without lifting them from the skin. Sunghoon exhales loudly and bites his lips a little when he feels your breasts cover the back of his hands. it feels so good.

«they're so soft,» he says modestly, and you nod, moving your hands to his sides, «now you need to lift my chest up a little and then cover it with your hands. your hands are big, they should fit.»

and you're right. Sunghoon repeats your command exactly in practice, and your loud exhalation echoes through the room. his hands seem to be perfect for this kind of touch, grazing your nipples so well. he's a fast learner.

«good boy, Sunghoon,» you don't skimp on your praise, so he's happy to repeat the movement he just learned. your back arches slightly to meet his, and he grins again, knowing he's doing the right thing.

«now leave one hand in the same position, and let go of the other and squeeze with your fingers so that the nipple remains uncovered.»

your explanation seems a bit confusing, and sunghoon does everything at random, but right again. you can't help but stroke his skin with your fingers as a reward.

«yes, great. now i'm going to lean in to you like this,» you take your hands away from him and move them to the head of the bed. your back bends more, and in order to lean as close as possible, you spread your legs even wider. Sunghoon can feel your wetness leaving stains on his stomach, and you almost moan when your clit accidentally rubs against his skin. biting your lips hard won't let you flatter him like that.

«and you'll suck it.»

Sunghoon lifts his head up to you, and you smile, leaning down to kiss his forehead. he smiles contentedly, and you kiss his lips, quickly, but gently enough to make him smile.sunghoon softened up, massaging your chest more actively with both hands.

«like a baby?"

«yeah, like a baby.»

«it only needs to be sucked?» now it's Sunghoons turn to make you blush.

«you can do whatever you want, but only gently, they're sensitive.»

Sunghoon needs to stare at his target for a few more seconds before he pulls you even closer and finally starts sucking on you. your body goes limp almost immediately as his hot tongue and saliva wash over you like a wave. a small moan escapes your lips.

«damn, baby, go on,» you whisper, gripping the wooden crossbar until your knuckles ache, until Sunghoon slowly, very gently caresses you. his lips are soft on the sensitive bud, and the even row of teeth barely touches it, but it's enough to make you wet even more. Sunghoon feels like a sticky puddle has already formed on his stomach, and it only inspires him to squeeze the fingers of his other hand, feeling your thighs tighten and shake.

«do you like it? am i doing well?» your lover asks you quietly, confidently, between words, kissing his path to your second breast, not forgetting the movements that you taught him.

«y-yes, go on,» you barely whimper when he wraps his lips around the still-uncaressed bump again and immediately presses it down with his teeth harder than he did with the previous one. finally, you moan out loud, and that deep, clear sound, mixed with the patter of rain, carries you through dimensions. Sunghoon is somewhere far away. he doesn't know or remember who he is or where he is, he's only interested in you.

«damn, baby..» you squint hard when he bites you again, and this time you think you're going crazy. the knot in your stomach is tied so tightly that you're about to explode, so you'll have to stop, even if reluctantly.

one of your hands is slowly placed on his hair, and you smooth it down, signaling. sunghoon immediately reacts, opening his mouth slightly to release your nipple from his mouth. a thin thread of saliva forms between it and his lips, which soon thinns out and falls on your stomach, pleasantly cooling your skin.

your fingers gently brush through his strands.

«that was wonderful, baby, thank you,» as a reward, you lean in and give him another kiss, which quickly turns into a fiery and passionate battle between two tongues. sunghoon wraps both of his arms around your waist and lowers your hips down along your stomach, drawing out a series of exhausted moans that sound like whimpers. the clitoris pulsates pleasantly at the slightest touch of everything, and Sunghoon is happy to give you so much pleasure with just one hug.

«Hoonie, you're a fast learner,» your hand gently strokes his cheek, and you inhale his scent greedily, trying to catch your breath as he takes in the small lights in your eyes, licking his lips to taste your saliva again.

«i want you to feel good,» he whispers, hugging you like a child hugging a new toy for christmas.

you stroke his head again and again, kissing the top of his head and then his forehead, completely forgetting how much you're aroused. you need to do everything slowly.

«do you have any condoms with you?»

the question makes him tense up a little, and you can feel his muscles clench spasmodically. he shakes his head, giving out a small «fuck». wow, your little one can swear, how cute.

«don't worry,» your voice takes his mind off the worry, but he's still tense, «we can do this raw.»

his eyes widen a little. what? will he be able to feel your warmth on his skin, without any barriers? Sunghoon almost breaks into a satisfied smile, but his heart skips a beat when he realizes that this will definitely put your health in danger.

«but is that okay?»

you frown a little. he's right, he's absolutely right, but you can't do it without him today, and you're right about that. damn.

«yes.»

«we can just help each other and finish,» Sunghoon suggested, pouting in his favorite way. his genuine concern for you and your beautiful body is touching, but you just stroke his cheek and shake your head, smiling.

«honey, if i don't cum on your cock tonight, i'm going to die. and i don't intend to do it just once, so get ready to fill me up with your cum as many times as you can.»

Sunghoon's lips unconsciously makes a funny face when he leans over to give your collarbone a peck.

«_ _ _ _ , use me, i'll do whatever you want, i promise, i'll give you everything, every last drop of my cum.»

you nod contentedly.

───────────────────────────────────────

you think if it hadn't been for a terrible rainstorm outside, the whole neighborhood would know how good you are feeling this day. it's already been at least an hour since Sunghoon came inside you for the first time, and to say it was magical is an understatement.

his cum is thick and white, so pleasantly enveloping your walls every time his cock slides inside again, his hands squeeze your hips so hard when you once again lift up to abruptly fall on him, again and again touching almost all the sensitive spots inside of you.

your cheeks are slightly itchy from the salty paths left by happy tears, but you are unlikely to stop now.

«_____, i'm gonna cum..» Sunghoon grits quietly through his teeth as his hands once again lift you up to bring you down sharply while you rest your hands on his shoulders, trying to move in time.

«fuck, no, not now..» you whine, squeezing his shoulders harder, and he pulls his hands away from you so you can lift your hips on your own and release his throbbing cock from you. as soon as he comes out, a few large drops of the previous load immediately fall down on him, and you break into a satisfied, relaxed smile, feeling something coming out of your needy pussy profusely.

«how much longer can you last?» sunghoon shrugs, putting both of his hands behind his head so you can take full control of him. such an obedient boy.

«once or twice, no more,» his answer seems to please you, but it also seems to upset you. of course, there's no denying that the two previous times he filled you up were magical, but you wouldn't mind spending the whole night like this, feeling him fill you up over and over again. oh, what a pity you can't keep his cum inside you forever.

«okay, baby, then let's do this,» your fingers lightly massage the muscles of his collarbone as you gather your thoughts, «now i'll do it all by myself and you'll fill me up like this, and then we'll switch places, and i'll let you fill me up the way you want.»

Sunghoon nods approvingly.

«and then when we rest, you do it again, i want to feel your cum all the time,» he thinks you're crazy, and you are. such a long period of abstinence, a beloved boy nearby and an atmospheric room turn you into a sex-hungry monster, and you can't resist it. you want sunghoo here and now, and until everything down there hurts right away.

Sunghoon gently strokes your hips, which are trembling with impatience and fatigue, «_____, you're already so red in there, doesn't it hurt?»

you don't think twice. you feel a constant throb, humidity and, unfortunately, emptiness. you want more. you want sunghoon.

«it's okay, love,» you exhale, sliding your hand down to his cock. the hand finds the tip unmistakably, so you gently, carefully pass the tip with your thumb right along the delicate bridle, Sunghoon immediately responds with a guttural groan.

«please, _____..»

you're almost on the edge yourself, so at the first sound that falls from his lips, you put his tip to the leaking with his cum entrance and, without thinking twice, lower your hips down. the entire length of him is instantly inside you, and your walls immediately squeeze so hard that the guy underneath you can barely restrain himself from cumming right away, just seconds later. you mumble contentedly, barely moving to feel each of his wreaths again.

«damn, Hoonie, i love you,» you whisper for the first time tonight, looking down at him. your eyes widen slightly as he raises his eyebrows and looks back at you, not saying a word as tears form at the corners of his beautiful brown eyes. you rush to lean in to kiss them away, but his cock turns so nicely inside of you that you almost moan in his face.

he's so close, your sweet hoonie, whom you've already lost and only found today. he's right here under you, crying like a little baby, and you just brush his tears away with your thumbs, smiling.

«silly, why are you crying?» his eyes narrow a little as he smiles at your question, and more tears rush to fall on the pillowcases of your pillows. he's so cute. your lips slowly cover his face with small butterfly kisses.

«i'm sorry, i'm just happy that it's mutual.»

his voice may be shaky, but it sounds so happy that you kiss him again and again, over and over, until he wraps his arms around your neck, not wanting to let you go even a millimeter. another hot kiss inflames you, and you instinctively begin to lift your lower body up and down, in a moderate but steady rhythm. he moans loudly against your lips, pressing even closer to you as if you're his last chance, but it's actually the opposite.

this is the sweet guy who saved you after months of self-tormenting and crying, the guy who caused you to change everything, now in your hands, and he will never leave them again. with each new thrust, the pace increases. let this be your last round, you two couldn't care less.

«i'm cuming soon,» he catches your whisper with his lips as you pull away from him to brush the unruly strands of hair out of your face.

«m-me too..»

«let's do it together.»

Sunghoon gives a small nod, and after just a few more thrusts, you clench once again and feel the warmth filling you from the inside out. soft, viscous and so desirable liquid rolls down the walls, envelops them like a blanket. you drop your whole body against his chest, and he immediately hugs you, closing his eyes.

you can't find the strength to move, you don't want to feel empty again, and so you just lie there, eyes closed, in each other's arms. with your sensitive walls, you can feel his cock slowly going limp, and even Sunghoon almost turns into a puddle with each new breath. you've exhausted him, obviously.

the sound of rain has a positive effect on you, calming you down after such a passionate coitus. propping your head in your hands, you study his relaxed face, counting moles and freckles, smiling like a fool.

«Hoonie,» your boy hums weakly, listening carefully to whatever you're about to say, «i wish we'd done this sooner.»

he frowns a little, opening his eyes lazily, and now you're looking at each other, just like you did when you were kids: he pouts a little, and you smile, tilting your head to the side.

«earlier?»

«when we were teenagers.»

«my god, _____, what are you thinking about?» Sunghoon waves you off with a big smile on his face, «this is gross.»

«gross? we haven't changed much. you just got bigger,» you laugh, lifting yourself up on your hands to pull his cock out of you and sit on his stomach, feeling a nice warmth. his cum is leaking out of you again, forming a puddle, but it doesn't matter, nothing else matters.

«it's leaking out,» he says, and you nod sadly, looking at the small white puddle right in front of your pussy.

«yes, i'm so sorry, but it's okay, you can fill me up every day.»

«do you like creampies?»

“i love your creampies,» the obvious emphasis on the word «your» makes him smile contentedly, «uhh, i wish you were my first, it would be so cool to see your white, sticky, precious cum leaking out of my tight virgin pussy..»

«shut up, for god's sake!» your boy bursts out laughing, and you parrot him.

the thunderclaps subside.

the downpour almostly stops.

the sun appears no cloud can ruin it now.

never.

───────────────────────────────────────

#kpop imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen imagines #kpop fluff #kpop smut #sub!enhypen #sub!idol #sub!sunghoon #dom x sub #sub x dom #dom!reader #park sunghoon #reader x sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #emhypen hard hours

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Postmarked In The Past

Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader

Summary: After sixteen years of no contact Reader reconnects with Spencer because she has to reveal the secret she’s been keeping since she stopped sending letters to him.

A/N: Hey heyyy! This is my sixteenth fic (it’s actually was totally unintentional to choose the 16th for this fic even though the daughter is 16 in this fic lol 😂) for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! This one is based off of this request and is part of my unlinked Spencer Reid & Letters series! Thanks for all the love and support lately- I was going to put out my plan for my 1500 follower celebration yesterday or today but if you saw my post I’ve been struggling so it’ll probably come on the 19th or the 20th. Submit an ask here- I love hearing from everyone 🥰Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy 🥰

Warnings: Reader keeps a huge secret she definitely shouldn’t have, Reader is a single mother-the daughter doesn’t have a specified name but she is specified to be 16, Reader is very defensive when her daughter finds the letters, mentions of a one night stand

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.5k

Spencer had been a bright spot in my life, one that had been snuffed out all because of me. When I had found myself pregnant with his child, after I had visited him once, I bolted. For a long time I justified my actions, saying to myself that it was better that Spencer was unburdened while his career was just starting out. But, deep down I knew how wonderful Spencer would have been as a father, how he would have moved heaven and earth to make everything work. And, that guilt haunted me.

The memories I had of him were so far in between, every moment with him had been so fleeting at the end. I struggled to sometimes even remember how he looked as it had been sixteen years since I last laid eyes on him.

I had to strain my memory to remember the way his gelled hair curled around his ears and how sometimes I saw him let the curls free only around me. His eyes had been brown, I could remember that. But, pinpointing what shade they were when they glinted in the light or were drenched in the shadows was lost to me. I knew he had been tall and lanky, his hands reflecting that with how spindly they were. To remember how those fingers had felt on my skin, or how his lips had marked me, or how he would gently stroke my hair was too difficult. Whether it was because I couldn’t remember or that I didn’t want to, it was just too hard for me to want to try to strain my memory anymore.

The labor had been the most difficult thing I had gone through, no one had been there to hold my hand. And, I didn’t really want anybody else except Spencer holding it. I had gritted my teeth and accepted it, pushing through the physical and emotional pain, especially since the pain of losing Spencer had been entirely because of me. I had been given a beautiful baby daughter that day and it was then that I started to force myself to forget Spencer, she looked too much like him to be able to bear.

The only things that remained in my life that involved him were the letters I sent to him in the last year of our relationship while we were long distance and my daughter. The letters were able to be shoved in a box at the bottom of a closet, but my daughter confronted me with my actions everyday by existing. I loved my daughter very much, I just tried to avoid the topic of her father by concocting a lie and making myself forget all of Spencer’s features so I wouldn’t see them as much in her. My nightmare would be the two things converging to confront me with my guilt, I don’t think I could handle that.

—-

At the kitchen table I saw my daughter, holding a letter. Her holding a letter wasn’t at its core a bad thing of course, but I could tell by the slight yellowing of the paper that it was getting old. Immediately panic spread through me; there were no other old letters she’d be looking at besides mine, the ones I sent to Spencer.

“Those are private.” I snapped defensively, definitely too hostile to be reasonable. It was obvious by my tone of voice that I was hiding something.

“Private?!” She yelled, giving away that she had already read at least a few of them. I clenched my eyes shut to prepare for her question, “Are these from my father?! Who you said was a one night stand?!” I vividly remember explaining the lie I had concocted for her, her being confused why I would only be with her father once. It was a hard subject to dance around, a difficult lie for me and her to swallow. But, the alternative was too painful for me to be honest with her, or honest with Spencer. And, I knew it made me selfish, at the time it had been so Spencer wouldn’t stop his blossoming career. With time I realized that I really had done it because I had been scared. The guilt had started to sting worse when I realized that.

I had been caught, there was no weaseling out of this. I hanged my head in defeat, finally admitting to the large lie I had even roped the rest of my family in, “Yes.”

If she had been a dragon she’d be breathing fire on me while she spoke, “And why would you keep this from me! Did he do something bad or something?! Is that why you didn’t tell me?!”

“No-I-“ I stammered a few times until I found the words, “I- I did it because I didn’t want to hold him back… We were so young, and I knew he’d quit his new job across the country to come back to me.” Keeping the details still vague was my only armor right now. I kept to myself how those letters were the way we communicated for months when he started in the academy. We were only able to meet up once a month, and one month I unexpectedly fell pregnant. I never sent another letter or came to visit him again once I found out.

She clenched her jaw at me, looking back down at the scores of letters that we had written, and I had hidden. Her next question now made me clench my jaw, “C-can I see him? Or call him? Or send him a letter?” If you don’t know how to contact him anymore I’m sure we can-“

I was nervous as to where this was going. There was no way I could contact Spencer again after all these years, the guilt already ate at me everyday. Seeing and remembering his face would only make it worse. Fear was fueling me and I cut her off because of it, “No- I- I don’t think it’s a good idea...I just need more time- until I’m ready.” I started to shrink away from her, my authority slipping through my fingers as I became more and more vulnerable.

“You’ve waited sixteen years, you’ll never be ready.” The spite in her voice was stinging, she wasn’t completely wrong in her statement.. And when I didn’t answer she then stormed away, slamming the door to her room.

——

Our relationship in the few weeks following was strained at best, estranged at worse. She barely spoke to me since then, the biggest conversation we had was about what was for dinner- and that had been about two sentences long.

I was slowly coming around to the idea of perhaps finding a way for her and Spencer to reconnect. The guilt that I had been so afraid of becoming worse if I confronted it head on, only grew worse by avoiding it. I was actually going to talk to her after I got home from work, until I realized what she did.

She left her own letter on the table titled Dear Mom, detailing where she was going without giving any specifics. There was one part that gave her reasoning for writing her plan down, she didn’t want me to have a heart attack even if she was mad at me. Plus there were a few sentences about how she had used her own money that she had been saving up, which was supposed to be for college only serving to make you even more frustrated. At the bottom she wrote- I’m going to find my Dad, please don’t follow me or call the police.

I scoffed to myself, wondering if she expected her warning to not to follow her to be followed. Of course I was going to follow her, there was no way I was going to just let her go off on her own like that.

It wouldn’t be too hard to find her. Spencer may have changed apartments since then, but one quick google search of news articles he was mentioned in showed me that he still worked at the BAU in Quantico. It was probably a safe bet that my daughter did the same thing and was planning on visiting him at his office.

The plane ride there had been tumultuous, not in the sense that there was any chaotic occurrence or severe turbulence on the plan, more like in my mind. My hands shook, my foot tapped, and my mind raced while I took the long flight from Las Vegas all the way to Quantico. My mind went round in circles whether or not I viewed Spencer meeting my daughter- our daughter as a good thing. It was difficult to accept that even though they’d both most likely be mad at me, they deserved to meet. Especially since I knew how good of a father Spencer could potentially be. Once I had landed I didn’t stop, getting a cab straight from the airport to where the BAU offices were located.

The building looked daunting in front of me. It wasn’t a skyscraper by any means, but the task that I was here to do was so big it felt like one as I stared at it while trying to work up the courage to go in. The guilt however, was too hard to ignore.

My mind was on autopilot as I told the secretary at one of the front desks. It was too stressful to focus on worrying, so exhausted from the emotional roller coaster I was riding. An agent had assured me that she was safe which made some of the stress melt from my shoulders luckily.

“Here she is.” The agent gestured to the office, empty of any other person except my daughter. I felt even more relieved now that I saw her with my own eyes.

When I entered she waited a second before speaking timidly with disappointment, “He’s not here, he's on a case.” Her demeanor had deflated almost immediately as she saw me escorted up.

“Who told you that?” My arms crossed around my chest, nervous and furious all at once. I didn’t need to tell my daughter how in trouble she was, by the pout on her face she knew she’d be getting grounded for a long time even if I did let her talk to him.

“This nice lady named Garcia, she works with him. But, she did tell me I had to wait for you until she called him” For the first time since I had read her letter to me I cracked a smile. When we had still been communicating, Spencer often wrote and spoke about his teammates. Besides a fleeting photo of the team shown to me by him while I had been over here visiting, all my perceptions of the team and how they might look were all based on my imagination.

Despite that, when a vibrantly dressed woman clicked her heels into the room, I knew it was her. Spencer had perfectly described her, shining bright compared to the dull colors of the bureau’s office.

“So your Spencer’s baby mama.” Yep, she was definitely as blunt and beautiful as Spencer had described. I blanched at her comment, though I didn’t deny it, which was all she needed to know to confirm.

“Can you give me his number?” I skittered past the question, not wanting to confirm it out loud.

She beamed brightly at me, already starting to punch in the numbers with the phone on the desk in front of me. “You can call him now if you want on this phone, they just stopped working for the day.”

When she handed me the phone, it had already started ringing. I couldn’t help but panic, almost refusing the phone until my daughter nudged me forward to grab it. My finger trembled severely as I wrapped my hands around the phone, but I still managed to hold on to bring it up to my ear just as someone picked up the phone.

“Hello?” It was him, he sounded so similar to the boy you knew, that boy was a man now. He sounded more haggard compared to sixteen years ago; I wondered what all had happened since then.

“Hey- Spencer it’s me.” By the hitch in his voice that came through the speaker, he knew who it was.

At first I heard nothing from him, only some rustled feedback in the speaker. My shoulders were practically at my ears now afraid he might hang up. He did eventually stumble out a greeting, “H-hi? Why are you calling me after all these years- aaand on a phone at my work?”

“I’ve got to be honest with you,” I cryptically answered with an evident shake in my voice. I was biting my nails now, not caring if I chipped the polish on them. My daughter grabbed my hand to comfort me even though she was probably still furious at me which helped coax out my next statement, “cause I haven’t told you why I stopped talking to you…” I breathed in deeply once before I finally admitted the secret I had held for so many years, “Spencer, you have a daughter, she just turned sixteen.”

Dead silence was all I got, that was until I heard a choked out sob from him, “Why?”

He didn’t need to elaborate any further, it was quite clear what he was asking. Again another meek shaky reply came from me, “There were a lot of reasons- the main one was I didn’t want to hold you back.”

My daughter was now crying as was I, I hadn’t given her my reasoning until now. Maybe one day I’d give Spencer all the reasons why I had hidden it from him for so many years even though it was painful. I had held a lot of guilt about not ever contacting him again or even sending another letter. Spencer deserved to know everything, especially about his daughter who was the spitting image of him in almost every way.

“Can I talk to her?” I agreed, which seemed to surprise my daughter. I think she thought I’d be furious enough with her to not let her speak to him. She would still be getting many privileges taken away from her, just not this one as it was my fault she never knew her father in the first place. My fingers shook even more as I moved to click the speaker button so he could hear her speak.

“Hi- dad.” They spoke for a while, while I took the back seat, barely interjecting. They both deserved every ounce of father and daughter time that I had deprived them from throughout the years. My chest did feel lighter now that I had told him, now that my daughter was getting the chance to know him. Hearing them laugh and giggle with each other almost immediately only cemented how much she was her father’s daughter.

When the phone was handed back to me, after seemingly hours of talking (Garcia had even popped in a few times to get me more coffee) Spencer asked,“Can you stay in Quantico till I get back?”

I smiled, happy that I’d finally be able to see and remember his face again after all this time, “We’ll be here waiting, it’s time you meet your daughter in person.”

Ask Me Anything

—

Tag lists (fill out this form to join): If your url has a strike through it means tumblr won’t let me tag you- check in your settings if you allow yourself to be searchable

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @boxofsparklingmuses @multixfandomwriter @takeyourleap-of-faith

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Letters Series: (Group of Unlinked fluff fics about Spencer and letters): @whoreforthebau @sierraraeck @90spumkin

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fluff #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #30 fics in 30 days

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Deserving

Characters: Childe, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,651

Warnings: None

Premise: Even those who don’t regret their choices can doubt their worth.

In which Childe feels undeserving.

Author’s Note: Since I’m no longer dying you get a proper length fic. I realized halfway through I didn’t write anything for Diluc’s birthday, but blatant Childe favoritism comes first!

He’d never expected to be in a relationship, expected to spend his entire life serving the Tsaritsa and her purposes, dying for the salvation of Snezhnaya. He had no need for romance, no need for any of those connections that humans did. He’d given that all up the day he’d stepped into the Abyss, and for a long time he’d managed to make it seem like it didn’t matter to him, even to himself. And then he’d met you.

You were the greatest source of Childe’s happiness, offering him a sort of sanctuary, without any attempt to do so. You didn’t treat him as a lesser being, as the automaton he’d turned into; nor would you accept his superiority, determined to be his equal in every way. It was refreshing, to have a relationship unfettered by bureaucracy or by prejudice. But it was also frightening, and the small voice inside Childe that whispered he was no more than a monster was quick to remind him how undeserving he was of your love.

Not that Childe didn’t think that already, that he didn’t feel that emptiness inside of him where had once stood his hope, his innocence, the piece of his humanity that could still believe in a good ending. Sometimes it seemed even his empathy had been sacrificed, and now he had little left of himself. All these feelings had only grown, given encouragement the more time he spent with you, the more time he realized how much was truly missing from himself. And though he tried to ignore these feelings, knowing they weren’t your burden to bear, knowing that he could never change what had happened, he still knew they were there.

“Are you okay?”

You tugged at the end of Childe’s sleeve, eyes filled with concern. It was a lovely day, right between the beginning of spring and the end of winter. It was colder than it had been the past few days, and you’d taken the lowered temperature as an opportunity to steal Childe’s scarf. The tails flapped about around you, and for a moment Childe’s eyes followed the movement as he attempted to come up with something to say.

“I’m perfectly fine my dear. Simply a little tired.”

“A long day at work?”

“A long week. The servants of the Tsaritsa never sleep, as you know firsthand.” Childe smirked, ruffling your hair. The movement seemed to distract you, and as you batted at his hands, grumbling as usual about his work, the Harbinger wondered if it wasn’t dishonest of him to lie about such a thing.

“I’m sorry I have to go again.” Childe smiled apologetically, checking his belt to make sure his wax and extra bow strings were there.

“It’s alright.” You smiled, leaning over to give Childe a quick peck on the cheek.

Childe smiled back, before leaning down to kiss you properly. He wondered if you could feel all the love he held towards you, if his lips could convey his regret not just in words. He wondered if one day these fleeting kisses would be enough to sate the distance between the two of you each time he left.

“I’ll write to you as soon as I find a mailbox.” He said, withdrawing slightly, hand still grazing your hip.

“I’ll try to reply.”

“Try?”

“No promises.” You teased.

“The audacity! Honestly, how do I ever put up with you?”

“Because you love me?”

“Yes.” Childe pressed one last kiss to your forehead. “Because I love you.”

If only my love were enough to keep us united, he added in his mind, too apprehensive to let those words be released into the air.

My dear,

How very boring things are without you. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I’m not working in a glorified daycare, my subordinates more uncontrollable with every passing day. One must wonder if it’s even worth it to whip them into shape, for they make poor sparring partners. If you were here you’d knock every single one of them on the ground, before they could even wonder what an adventurer was doing in a Fatui camp. Maybe I’ll invite you next time, we’ll make it happen.

Childe couldn’t express truly the solace he found in writing to you. It was easier to write sometimes than talk, and it was easier to send his words out to you than rely on the memories of what had already happened. More than that it was the one thing that reminded him of his outside existence, of his world beyond the camp grounds and the men and women who dragged their feet around him, no wish to fight in them, only the wish to get a few hours more sleep. It was a depressing existence, if Childe were honest with himself. It’d become even more depressing, now that he missed you.

He set down his pen for a moment, sighing at the ink which was now frozen in its jar. Where were you now? Were you happy? Did you miss him? Did you resent the fact that he was gone? Three weeks was nothing to a member of the Fatui, how long had Childe been in Liyue before he met you, and yet now those weeks seemed interminable. And if it seemed so to him, he who was used to the isolation, then what would it be like for you?

The Harbinger sighed. Placing a blank sheet on top of his letter he stood up. He never got that much time to write letters. Maybe that was why they weren’t really any good. But you didn’t mind. Didn’t you?

It was dark when he stepped off the ship and onto the docks of Liyue. Night had fallen, and the lanterns were lit, casting a familiar glow on the city which Childe had come to appreciate so much. Taking a pocket watch out of his pack he checked the time, cursing when he realized how truly late it was. Hurrying up the ramp he didn’t bother to look behind at the subordinates who were also plodding towards the city. If they got lost it was their fault.

The door opened silently, something that made the Harbinger breathe out a sigh of relief. Hopefully he wouldn’t wake you up. Setting down his things he smiled slightly to himself. It’d certainly be a surprise, you waking up to him next to you. Hopefully you’d forgive him for not waking you at 4 in the morning. Walking slowly down the hall, hoping that the occasional creaks weren’t audible, Childe slid open the door to the bedroom you shared.

The first thing he noticed was the chill of the room, something that surprised him. The next thing he noticed was the door to the balcony open. The third thing was you, leaning against the railing, gaze pointed towards the inky sky, expression somewhat distant. He didn’t move for a moment, taking in this small moment of intimacy. You looked beautiful, face glowing slightly from the distant lanternlight, expression serene, a soft smile playing at the edges of your mouth. And yet there was something opaque in your eyes, something that Childe couldn’t quite touch upon. It shook him out of his thoughts, and caused him to call out softly to you.

“I’m home.”

You started for a moment, spinning around to meet the Harbinger’s gaze. For a moment you were still, but then a sort of cry left your lips, as you barreled into Childe’s chest. He just as soon wrapped his arms around you, sighing softly, for the moment feeling nothing but pure bliss, pure love.

“You’re home.”

“I am.”

“I’ve missed you so much.” You drew back, expression ecstatic.

“I’ve missed you too.”

For a moment Childe hesitated, not wanting to break this moment, not wanting to go down that path of doubt, of fear and uncertainty. Yet he was tired, and slightly emotional. If he regretted it later so be it, he had to ask the question that burned in the back of his mind, the question that had once more reappeared upon seeing your expression.

“Am I worth waiting for?”

“Oh Ajax.” your reaction was immediate as you wrapped your arms once more around him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Always, you’re always worth waiting for.”

“But I’m away for so long. And when I’m here I’m still bound to my duties as a Harbinger. Nor can I shed that part of me when I’m not doing my job. I cannot get back those pieces of me that would make me a better lover, a better person. What if I’m just not worth it?”

“Don’t talk like that!” You let out a small sigh, that opaque expression once more visible in your eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. You aren’t missing anything, you aren’t worth any less than me or any other person. You’re loyalties might be… unconventional –”

“You mean wrong to most?”

“I mean unconventional. And yes even wrong. There may be parts of your work I hate, things I wish you wouldn’t do or have to do. But I don’t wish for you to change. You. Childe. Ajax. You are who you are, and that is the person I’ve fallen in love with. It’s a choice I made, and I don’t question it, don’t regret it. So neither should you.”

“Are you sure?” Childe knew he was probably being annoying, but he didn’t care. Neither did you, it seemed, for you simply shook you head, an exasperated expression on your face.

“Yes. I will always be sure.”

Childe nodded, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from off his back. Suddenly he was aware of how very tired he was. Stifling a yawn he smiled once more.

“It’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“Yes,” you smiled, closing the balcony door and sliding the curtains closed, “we should.”

#okay why is html not working #ffs #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #childe #childe x reader #my writing #oneshot

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fruitquake · 3 years

Note

21 for fluff (but make it angst??) <3

of course you'd want me to make it angst asdfgmn

(this isn't like. pure angst, but there is angst so yayyy pain and suffering woo)

It’s 4 AM. It’s 4 AM and once again, Remus is awake. He can’t remember the last time he got more than 2 hours of sleep. The anxiety is constant these days, eating away at him until it feels like there’s nothing left but an empty shell of himself, staring into the thick, suffocating darkness. It’s too much. He needs to get out of here. He needs fresh air and a cigarette.

The dormitory is quiet except for Peter’s soft snores, and the sound of his clothes ruffling as Remus fumbles through his stuff for a pack of cigarettes and his wand is much louder than it ought to be. The others must be asleep, though, and Remus doesn’t think the sound is enough to wake them.

He finally finds the half-empty pack of cigarettes and sticks it in the pocket of his pyjama pants along with his wand, before sneaking out as quietly as he can.

He has barely made it down the stairs to the common room when a voice penetrates the quiet of the night and makes him jump out of his fucking skin. “Where are you going?”

“Fuck.” Remus leans against the wall, quickly collecting himself. “You startled me, you wanker.”

He can’t see Sirius through the darkness, only a vague shadow moving down the stairs, until he’s only a few feet from Remus, and finally visible in the dim light of the common room. “Why are you sneaking out in the middle of the night?”

Remus isn’t sure if he is imagining the accusatory tone in Sirius’s voice. “I need some fresh air,” he says. It’s no use lying to Sirius. That son of a bitch sees right through him.

Sirius nods. “Me too.” He steps past Remus and lights his wand with a quiet whisper. “Let’s go.”

“Oh.” Remus turns and looks at him. How does he look so beautiful at fucking 4 AM, with messy hair and dark circles under his eyes? It’s not fair. “Actually, I kind of wanted to be alone.”

“Moony, Moony, Moony.” Sirius shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “We both know that’s not true.”

And maybe if it were anyone else, Remus would’ve told them to fuck off. But it’s Sirius, the stupid unbelievable boy who Remus is hopelessly in love with, and he really is the only person Remus would want to be around right now. “Okay, fine,” he mumbles. “Let’s go, then.”

They sneak through the castle and out into the courtyard. It’s colder than Remus had anticipated, and he suddenly wishes he had brought a coat.

“Oh, you’re really warm.” Sirius leans against him with a content sigh. “What do you say we huddle together against the cold like penguins- Why are you tensing up like that?”

Why does he fucking think? Wanker. Remus sits down hard on a stone step. The cold seeps through his pyjama pants instantly, and although he knows it’s a bad idea, huddling together for warmth does sound nice right now. “Get down here, then.”

Sirius sits down next to him, their arms brushing slightly, and Remus takes out the pack of cigarettes. He takes one for himself and hands the pack to Sirius.

“So what brings you out here in the middle of the night?” Sirius asks as Remus lights both of their cigarettes with his wand.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I just followed you.”

“But that means you were already awake,” Remus says.

Sirius shrugs. “I… haven’t really been sleeping all that well lately.”

"Oh. I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well.” Sirius chuckles and takes a long drag of his cigarette. “I don’t want you guys to worry about me. I’ve just been... having these nightmares.” He winces and looks away. “They’re mostly about… home. Well, not home. Hogwarts is my home. Prongs’ place is my home. But you know what I mean.”

Remus nods. Sirius has never told him details about how his family treated him, but he knows it was bad. He didn’t know it kept him up at night, though.

“I haven’t been sleeping well either.” It’s not something Remus has told anyone else, but there’s something about this moment, Sirius’s vulnerability, the warmth they’re sharing, that makes him want to spill everything he’s been keeping to himself lately. “I rarely have nightmares, but that’s because I don’t really sleep at all. Every night lately has been hell, because I just lie awake and stare into the nothingness and there’s this big well of pain and anxiety and loneliness that’s sometimes so deep, it feels like I can’t breathe.”

That was a bit more than he was meaning to share, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Sirius reaches out and takes his hand, and Remus lets him. “That sounds like a lot to deal with alone.”

Remus shrugs. “So does your thing.”

“So maybe we shouldn’t be dealing with it alone,” Sirius says. His eyes are glowing in the faint light, and they’re looking right into Remus’s like they’re searching for something there. Their faces are so close, Remus could lean in and kiss him right now. He isn’t going to, but it’s all his idiot brain can think about.

Sirius seems to finally realize how close he is getting, and he leans back an inch, but his hand stays on Remus’s. “We may not have much,” he says quietly. “But we have each other. It’s us against the world, the way it always has been.”

In that moment, Remus loves this daft fucking bastard so much its unbearable. “That’s some cheesy shit,” he says, grateful that his voice isn’t too shaky. “I didn’t come out here to have some deep fucking talk. Can’t we just smoke in silence?”

Sirius laughs and finally lets go of his hand. “You’re a treasure, Moony.”

“And you’re the bane of my existence.”

Sirius stubs his cigarette out on the ground and leans against Remus, and Remus really tries not to tense up this time.

“‘M so tired,” Sirius mumbles. “Mind if I just fall asleep like this?”

“Yes,” Remus says. “I’m not carrying your ass up to bed. Do you know how many stairs that is?”

But Sirius isn’t listening. He yawns and snuggles up next to Remus, and Remus just has to sit there and endure it and try not to focus on how close they are. It’s torture. But it’s also, infuriatingly, really fucking nice.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, unsure whether Sirius is awake enough to hear him. “For coming out here with me. Honestly, it was really nice not being alone.” There is no answer; Sirius must already be asleep. For a fleeting moment, Remus feels bold. Reckless, even. “I love you,” he whispers.

The words hang in the air, foggy in the cold night. But Sirius is asleep and there is no one there to hear him, and it’s probably better that way.

#man idk what this is #but i'm proud of myself for actually managing to write smth!!#sooo i hope u like it #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #marauders #marauders era #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #angst #tw mental illness #smoking #swearing

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andraaste · 3 years

Text

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 10

Well finally, chapter 10 is here sooner than expected ! Happy reading my friends 💕

Chapter 10 : You are very far from the account, my beautiful

- I've been doing quite a bit of research on the powers of aengels and dragons since the other night, and there is something I would like to try. But for that, you have to trust me a minimum.

- All right, tell me what to do.

Without warning, Lance grabbed my hand and held it in his, this one made slightly rough by its semi-transformation. He had no say in letting me understand what he was waiting for. Closing my eyes, I focused on the now familiar tingling sensations of the contact of his skin against mine. The latter, still weak, ran through my fingers with a pleasant feeling. It was soft, almost natural, as if my palm had only waited for this contact to finally feel completely itself.

Locked in the cold huge cage of his tanned hand, my fingers began to vibrate slightly as the comforting warmth of my powers began to roam my arm. One against the other, our palms seemed to constantly counterbalance two radically opposed temperatures, struggling to find a happy medium. Strangely, I felt soothed by this sudden contrast akin to a duel of fire and ice. It was a reflection of our interactions, at Lance and me.

Complex, yet intense.

When my light finally diffused through our fingers, I felt its quiver slightly as it gradually grew more confident. I visualized it penetrating his skin, running through his muscles, up to his arm. Exactly like his ice had done on my body two days earlier.

A slight breath escaped his lips, which made me open my eyes again and, for a moment, I couldn't take my gaze from the smile that marked his face.

A proud smile, and above all sincere.

I couldn't stop my lips from echoing his. My powers thus awakened, I felt fully myself, and it was powerful, exhilarating. My light took on vividness, of a color with equally warm hues, marking the skin of the dragon in multiple streaks similar to mine, like a multitude of beams of light. I could see my energy pouring into him, running through his veins, marking every one of his pores.

Suddenly, his ice mingled with my heat. The fine lines of lights that ran through his arm multiplied into new ones in bluish hues, these seeming more vivid than mine. With astonishment, I discovered them running through me in turn. Slowly, as if trying to perfectly marry those already existing, mingling with dissonance on my pale skin.

I was totally hypnotized by the spectacle that presented itself to me, so much so that it took me a while to notice that Lance had loosened his grip to come and let his fingers run languidly over my wrist, thus tracing invisible shapes against my skin. Several shivers ran through me under his slow movements and I wasn't sure he himself noticed what he was doing. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focused on the gentle, yet sure, movements the dragon made. So, as with Leiftan, I thought I felt an emotion that was not mine. A light feeling, close to admiration. Confused, I opened my eyelids and looked into his blue eyes.

Lance hadn't taken his eyes off me.

He suddenly understood what had just happened. Pulling on my wrist, he pulled me closer to him, bringing his lips to the hollow of my ear.

- Who allowed you to enter my head, little human ? he whispered to me.

His voice, both sweet and teasing, sent a shiver running down my spine. So I could feel his breath against my neck and knowing him so close to me made me both nervous and languid.

- It's you who is far too easy to read, I had nothing to do with it.

His weak laugh, with much more hoarse intonations than usual, grabbed all my attention.

- How did you do that ?

- I don’t know how to explain it. It happens to me sometimes in Leiftan's presence since we fought together, but I didn't think it was possible with anyone else.

The dragon imperceptibly contracted its jaws at the hearing of the aengel's first name.

- I see. Again, it's probably because of this exchange of powers, he told me, pausing a little before resuming, a slightly more sullen tone. So does that mean you feel his emotions ?

- It happens sometimes, yes, I answered him innocently.

He let out a much less jovial laugh as he leaned on the dresser behind him, his back arched slightly in my direction. Never breaking the link between our skins, he nonchalantly put his hand that still held mine on one of his thighs, his palm up, leaving me free to withdraw it if I wished.

- I guess he's still overflowing with sweet feelings for you.

I gave him a heavy look, which he answered with a vague shrug.

- Don't look at me like that, you had to be blind not to see what he felt for you. I remind you that I spent a lot of time with him and I can assure you that he only had your name in his mouth.

It’s true that Ashkore and Leiftan had been allies, there was a time.

I realized that, when he behaved so relaxed around me, like a moment ago, Lance sometimes managed to make me forget this tumultuous past that we shared. And I had to admit that these moments, however fleeting they were, were sometimes pleasant.

- Nothing ever happened between Leiftan and me, his feelings have always been one-sided and to be honest, I think he felt that much because I was like him. What's more, I was with Nevra at that time.

My interlocutor observed me for a moment without saying anything.

- Andraste, you can believe me when I tell you that he fell madly in love with you the moment you arrived. It's not just a matter of race, although I can understand that it sounds appealing. I myself was curious as to why you were so important to him, but I came to understand that he was just really infatuated with you. On the other hand, I'm intrigued that you still feel his emotions if this phenomenon dates from the battle, he added.

I pondered his words. Leiftan's feelings for me troubled me, I didn't know what to think.

- I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe spending the last few years together in the Crystal has brought us closer together, who knows ?

Lance winced slightly at hearing the theory that didn't seem to please him much, it seemed.

How was it possible that I could feel their deepest emotions, and most importantly, why didn't they seem to feel mine in return ? I didn't understand a thing. I had convinced myself that this was the result of our aengel powers, but why was this also happening with the dragon ?

Our conversation having distracted me, I realized that my light still continued to shine weakly on his skin, running under the sleeve of his top. And it was... simple. Without any effort to provide. I then remembered a detail. During our training several days ago, when my powers had reactivated as anger had risen in me, their color had turned whitish, totally cold. While at this precise moment, the latter shone a much more orange hue, pouring a pleasant sensation down my muscles. Did my emotions interfere with the process ?

Catching me off guard, Lance pulled on my wrist and pulled me even closer to him. So brought together, I could make out every detail of the scales that dotted her neck and jaw, they bewitching me with their almost unreal shades.

- I don’t hide from you that I don’t hope that it’s the case, he said to me in a deep and low voice, making my heart beat a little faster without me knowing why.

- And why is that, exactly ?

His gaze became more penetrating. He raised an eyebrow as I leaned in a little more, until I in turn came to press my lips close to his ear.

- Oh by the way, if you could stop calling me "little human" when you light up the room with my powers, I added lower.

I felt his lips widen against me as he slid a hand through my hair to reposition it behind my ear.

- A human with two or three powers, at most. I wait a little better to be blown away.

Angered, I pulled back to slap him on the shoulder with my free hand. Lance rubbed the affected area before laughing frankly at my daring.

- You are easily offended.

- And you should avoid letting your guard down in my presence, you know that I tend to get carried away a little.

- I thought I noticed it, indeed. But I guess I tend to like it myself, he said with a mischievous sneer.

We stared at each other for several long seconds, a silly smile stuck on our faces as our hands seemed unwilling to let go. Positioned in this way, our bodies standing far too close to each other to remain conventional, I felt strangely relaxed. And when his eyes suddenly drifted lower, peering down at my mouth with some undisguised curiosity, I found myself wondering what would happen if our lips met. If the simple contact of our skin had such virtues, what would it be in the face of more privacy ? I had the impression that each of my emotions was heightened tenfold in his presence, and like an addiction, I had this impression always wanting more, never to be entirely satisfied.

Lance seemed to recover and I was surprised to see his scales slowly resorbing.

- We're going to stop there for tonight, he said softly as he began to regain his human form.

His skin finally returned to its usual appearance and quickly, no more draconian attributes marked Lance's body.

Cautiously letting go of my hand, he let his fingers run along my skin until only emptiness caught up with me. The broken link, our powers diminished in liveliness, descending the lines drawn on our respective skins in the opposite direction, to the tips of our fingers. Disappearing totally, I felt a cold suddenly embrace me as the warmth of my light and the coldness of his ice no longer caressed me.

I was cold for the first time since waking up, and I felt that as I left Lance's coolness.

The dragon leaned a little more against the edge of the dresser and observed me for a moment without saying anything, as if lost in an internal reflection that he didn’t seem to want to share with me. Suddenly, he raised an arm and came to rub a loving hand through my hair, catching me totally off guard.

- Well done, Andraste. I had my doubts you'd make it, but ultimately I'm impressed, he told me as he slowly pulled his fingers away from my scalp, pouting mockingly.

I crossed my arms, an eyebrow raised in annoyance.

- You really don't have any hope in me, actually.

His soft laughter echoed again as he finally pulled away from his prop. Leaning over me once again, his large figure towering over me completely, he whispered to me, like a secret :

- If you knew what I think of you... you are very far from the account, my beautiful.

(Chapter 11)

#eldarya #eldarya new era #ashkore #lance #lancika #i am not your enemy #eldarya lance #lance eldarya #eldarya the origins #eldarya writing #eldarya fanfiction

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

You Were Made To Be Mine - 3.

Pirate!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader

Part 3 of this series.

Run-through: Bucky is one of the greatest pirates ever known. Living peacefully in his vast and flourishing archipelago; filthy rich and respected by all those around him. He is the leader of his people and his massive fleet, and is viewed as no less than a king by his crew and the people on his lands. He, however, has a secret that he keeps from everyone. The infamous and brawny pirate has lost his heart to one of the most beautiful creations he’s ever seen – you. Ever since the moment he saw you, he knew that you were meant to be his. But he belonged to the earth, you to the ocean. Could love and resilience somehow find a way to unite two worlds?

Themes: mermaid!reader, mythological elements, pirate!bucky, fluff, slight angst, smut

a/n: This will be the last part of this series. Thank you to everyone who loved this series, and pirate!bucky as much as I did! I love you guys so much!

One week in your absence felt like a thousand years to the heartbroken man you had left behind.

A tragedy of his own making, truth be told.

Bucky was miserable, torn and completely unable to function properly now with you gone. He could barely sleep. And spent most of his time on the shore of the small isle – where he used to meet up with you. Which used to be his favorite place but now the shore and the rocks only reminded him of his terrible mistake. A mistake which cost him the one thing he soon realized he couldn’t live without.

Sat there, on the rock where he had spent countless hours with you in the past just talking and learning about each other and falling deeper and deeper in love, Bucky looked down to see a shiny pearl in the palm of his hand. You brought him many pretty things from the depths of the ocean – shells, pearls, but this one pearl stood out the most to him. Mainly because the color of it reminded him of the many hues present on your tail.

“I miss you, my little pearl. Come back to me. Please.” He whispered under his breath. Sad and sulking, he hadn’t smiled since you were gone. Sometimes it felt like he hadn’t lived at all before he met you and now with you gone, he was just… existing – void of any happiness and love and warmth.

As each wave crashed on the shore and on the rocks, it felt like someone was poking at a wound. Each day he returned back to his island, without any knowledge of your whereabouts, it felt like a defeat. Bucky spent the nights at the isle, then rowed back in the morning – where he slept and sulked all day inside his home and came out at night again to row back to the isle. He was a mess and only you could fix it, but you were mad and broken and gone.

His friends were worried sick but there was nothing they could do. It was impossible to even look for you because they would never find you from the surface. All they could do was wait and pray that you come back else they feared that their friend might die from a heartbreak. He was already in so much pain already.

Bucky never gave up. Midway into the second week, he was hurting just the same but that didn’t diminish his hope. He would sit at the rock and wait each night. You never showed up, but he never stopped showing up either. He’d sit there at the shore or on your rock and just reminisce the time he spent with you. He’d smile to himself, laugh at the funny things, shed a tear or two whenever the realization hit him and reminded him cruelly that you were gone and it was his fault.

“I’m not gonna make it without you. Please come back.” he begged, looking towards the ocean as the gentle, cool and salty wind caressed his face, reminding him of your touch. Damp and cool but it brought him warmth like no other. And just like always, all he got back as a reply was tranquility and the sound of waves dying out on the shore – much like him.

Yet, just like the waves, he was resilient and he kept coming back hoping that one day you’ll show up. He had faith in the love he had for you, and he knew that you’d be reunited again one day. Sooner or later.

Lucky for him, that day wasn’t too far.

One evening, Bucky felt much better than he had ever felt in the past two weeks in your absence. Which was weird because he’d only been sad and gloomy since the day you were gone. But tonight as he rowed to the isle he was almost, dare he say, excited and more hopeful than ever. He was confused but he felt tingly and warm – like how he usually felt whenever you were around.

And much to his surprise, he had been right. Because as soon as he reached the shore, he felt immediately more alive. And something told him that you were close by.

“Sweetheart? Is it you?” he called out, using the moonlight and the torch to look around as much as he could. He found you and his body froze to the ground.

He found you on the shore, not far from him. You appeared to be unconscious, and as though the waves had washed your body up to the shore. He ran to you, and as soon as he got close enough, his heart skipped a beat or two.

You were… human. With legs in lieu of your lovely tail and fins. Oh sweetheart…

Bucky fell to his knees beside your bare body and wedged the torch to the ground and pulled your body up to him. Bucky immediately removed his thick coat and wrapped you in it, sheltering you from the cold. You whimpered as he touched you, because even when not so conscious, you knew it was him. “Wake up, Y/N. Please wake up,” he cradled you against his warm chest.

He could feel your heartbeat as he held you against him, and that was the only thing keeping him from being hysterical due to all the overwhelming emotions he was feeling. Regret for letting you go in the first place. Guilt for being selfish. Heartache because he had broken your heart in doing so. Happiness for having found you at last. It all hit him right in the face like a harsh punch.

He felt like he wanted to scream and shout and just do something, but then the sound of your voice calmed him down instantly.

“Buck…” your voice sounded hoarse and it ended in a cough. You didn’t open your eyes but you felt him there, holding you. You felt safe.

“I’m here, my love. I’m right here. Are you okay? What- I need to know you’re okay, please.” He waited, leaning in to kiss your forehead as he hugged you tighter.

You struggled to talk but you managed to mumble out some words, “It’s… I…everything hurts.”

Bucky felt like he was being torn apart limb by limb. “How can I make it better, sweetheart? Tell me what to do.” he sounded frantic and scared and hurt all at the same time.

Your next few words made him shed tears right there on the shore. “Take me home.” He held you, clinging to you like a child and he cried silently. Whispering and pleading and telling you he’s sorry.

When Bucky brought you home that night, his friends were surprised but they didn’t question him right away. Thor was the one who knew just what to give you for the pain. Okoye brought you all that a woman could need. And Sam and Steve worked on what to tell the rest of the people when they find out about you.

You were still slipping in and out of consciousness. And no one knew what happened in those two weeks, all they could do was wait for you to wake up.

“She’s alright. She’s here with you now, with us. Everything’s going to be alright, Buck.” Steve gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder and Bucky nodded. “Get some sleep. I’m sure she’ll be fine by morning.”

His friends all left, telling him they were close by and to call for them if he needed help with anything. Bucky walked them till the front door then hurried his way back to you. He had cleaned you and dressed you in a light blue sleeping gown and placed you in his bed, you looked comfortable and at ease. But he wanted you to just wake up already.

There was so many questions he needed answers to, so much he had to apologize for, so much to make up for.

“I love you more than anything.” He whispered and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry, my love.” Bucky stayed by your side the entire night that night. He hadn’t seen you for two weeks, so each glimpse of you now was a privilege that he was more than grateful for.

You woke up abruptly in the middle of the night; panicking and panting. You felt warm, and something was clinging to your body. Your eyes were wide open and you felt so hot. Your chest was heaving and you thrashed around trying to reorient yourself and find out where you were. All you felt was dry, silky material wrapped all around you.

Your movements woke Bucky up and he opened his eyes and realized that the candles had gone out so hurried to light them up again. And once he did and turned around, he caught your stare. You were clearly disoriented and scared.

“Hey…” he came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to touch your cheek and you closed your eyes and relished the feeling of his skin against yours. Oh how you had missed him. “Are you in pain right now?” he asked, there was so much you and him needed to talk about but right now your comfort and health was more important that anything. Besides, now you would plenty of time to discuss things.

You shook your head. You weren’t in any physical pain, not anymore. But your heart hurt. “How did you…” your voice trailed off, your throat suddenly feeling dry and itchy. Bucky figured you needed some water so he grabbed the nearby goblet of water and held it up to your lips. Reluctantly you leaned in, but then stopped.

“It’s just water. You’re thirsty, you need some. Drink,” he cupped your face gently and tipped the lip of the goblet a little, letting some water into your mouth. You drank half of it and closed your eyes and sighed, it seemed to have quenched your thirst.

“Thank you.” you mumbled as Bucky placed the goblet to the side and turned to face you. One look into his pretty blue eyes and your own started watering. It was all too much to bear. The separation had killed you, the heartbreak as well. And now here you were, thousands of unasked questions between you two acting as another barrier, although you had just overcame a major one.

Bucky spoke up after a few seconds of staring into your eyes. “I found you on the shore. You were barely conscious at the time.” He filled you in on the part which you seemed to have trouble remembering. You nodded and he spoke up again. “I’m sorry I let you go.” He scooted closer to you and caressed your cheek. “I love you. Way too much. It’s killing me, sweetheart. I don’t know what to do.”

He sounded lost and vulnerable. Your tears fell, despite how much you tried to hold them back. You let out a quiet sob as you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. He hugged you back, tightly securing his arms around you. Your tears were incessant, but you broke into a faint smile as he cradled your head. Your hugs weren’t damp and cold anymore, but warm and comfortable.

When the tears finally stopped, you pulled away and filled Bucky in on what he missed. After you ‘broke up’ you were pissed and dove into deep waters without a care in the world. You made it to where the potion supposedly was, and after spending multiple days looking for it, you managed to find it.

Your memory was messy and scattered after that. You remember feeling pain. A lot of pain, and you remember passing out and feeling like you were being torn in two.

“I must have lost consciousness then. I don’t remember. But the waves thankfully brought me to the shore.” You finished. Bucky listened attentively. God, he felt awful.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” he apologized, looking down in his lap where he held both your hands in his.

You squeezed his hands. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“I was stupid to let you go.” He argued.

You smiled and reached up to touch his face. “I wouldn’t be here, like this,” you pointed at your lower limbs, “if you didn’t let me go.”

“I love you.”

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “And I love you.” you mumbled against his lips.

Bucky spent the whole night just holding you close to him. You were still a little weak and unwell, but you promised him you would be alright in the morning. After all, you were way too excited to explore his island and meet his people and be one of them.

“Will they like me?” you asked, unable to fall asleep. Bucky chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“They’ll love you.” he replied.

He had been right.

As soon as his friends came by the next morning, they were all impatient to see you at once. They told Bucky that they would make up a story and tell the rest of the inhabitants of the archipelago that you were found stranded on an island, and that’s where Bucky found you.

“We have to hide the truth, for her sake.” Sam made sure everybody understood and were on the same page. Everyone nodded.

When Bucky came to get you, you wobbled on your feet a little before standing up. “I’ll have to get used to this.”

Bucky chuckled and came over to help you steady yourself. “One foot in front of the other. We’ll take it slow, sweetheart. Don’t you worry, you’ll get the hang of things in no time.” He smiled and led you out of the room.

You struggled to walk initially, but you were a quick learner. By the time you reached downstairs, you were able to walk on your own, but you still let Bucky keep his arms around you and you held on to him just in case. You met Bucky’s closest friend in the foyer. And the men all stared at you like they had never seen anything like you before. The woman however, Okoye – Bucky spoke of her often, gave you a polite smile.

“Welcome to our world.” She spoke, stepping closer and giving you a polite nod.

You smiled at her, her warmth rubbing off on you. “Thank you for the clothes.” Bucky had told you last night how she had made all the arrangements regarding your clothes. She smiled and said there was no need to thank her.

“You’re one of us now. You’re family.”

You almost shed tear of joy at her words. And something told you that you and Okoye would get along really well in the future. She just had that kind of aura around her; fierce and strong but also almost motherly and caring.

Bucky introduced you to everyone else. You recognized Steve from the swords fight. Then Sam was just as Bucky described him. Thor was much taller and broader than you imagined, but he was also the most gentle out of all of them.

Steve spoke up soon after you were introduced to all of them. “We’re so glad you’re finally here. Now someone,” he looked directly at Bucky, “will finally stop weeping and moaning in sadness.” That earned a round of chuckles and a giggle from you.

Bucky shot Steve a glare and had you not been there, he would have showered his friend with insults. You immediately liked them all. And even after they left, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“I can’t wait to meet everyone!” you chirped as Bucky helped you sit down at the stone table for breakfast. He figured you must be hungry.

“I can’t wait either, but it’s time you eat.” His words made you a little nervous, but also excited. Bucky gave you a quick tutorial on how to handle cutlery and you learnt in less than a few minutes. “That’s really good!” he cheered as you took your first bite of food all on your own.

You chewed cautiously, then turned to him with wide eyes. He chuckled, happy that you seemed to really enjoy human food.

That was just the beginning, soon Bucky realized that you were no different than a child experiencing everything the world had to offer for the first time. Bucky really enjoyed walking you through everything; and luckily you learnt everything rather quickly.

By the end of the first week, you were able to walk around on your own, dress yourself up and wash and brush your teeth and do your own hair. Bucky was impressed.

Some days later, Bucky decided that it was time to introduce you to everyone. And he meant everyone.

You had always wanted to be part of one of Bucky’s feast but you had never thought it would be this grand, and crowded and loud and cheery. People gathered around the many tables; loud chatter, laughter and clinging of goblets – it made you happy.

Bucky managed to get everyone’s attention. And told them the makeshift story of how he once found you, stranded on an island far from here. He added to the story and told them that he had to keep you hidden for a week or so because you were injured and sick but you were all better now.

“So I’m glad to introduce you to Y/N, the newest member of our family.” He held your hand showed you off proudly. He didn’t have to say it, everyone present at the massive hall could tell that he was madly in love with you. It could be seen in his eyes as he looked at you in pure adoration.

Your introduction was followed by a loud roar of cheer and claps and merry. Everyone was just happy that their mass was growing, and they took pride in it.

All throughout the feast, Bucky couldn’t help but feel more powerful as he sat next to you. He felt like he was on top of the world, like there was nothing he couldn’t do. You completed him. And you were here now, here to stay. Forever by his side.

Bucky made love to you that night. He couldn’t hold back from touching you anymore. All those nights of sleeping beside you, and not holding you or pleasuring you like he so desperately wanted to, had been pure torture.

Not only for him, but you as well. Having to see him shirtless and having his arms around you almost all the time had been making you feel hot and bothered almost always. But you were too shy and inexperienced to initiate anything so you waited. Until tonight.

Back home from the feast, as soon as you walked into your shared bedroom, Bucky grabbed you and gently pressed you against the door once he closed it behind him. He had you trapped between him and the door, and you weren’t complaining.

The look in his eyes spoke volumes. He was hungry and wild, and ready to ravish you all night long. But he knew he had to be gentle with you. He wondered how to ease you into it but you took care of that by reaching up and pressing your lips to his. You kiss was rough and needy, even Bucky was surprised.

Your body trembled in anticipation as he wrapped his arms around you and walked the two of you towards the large bed. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you let him. He stroked the top of your mouth and you found yourself whining and needing more.

Your body felt like it was on fire. One which could only be doused by his touch. Yet as soothing as his touch was, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you wanted him. Unrestrained, and passionately. You needed him so terribly you almost begged.

As soon as your back hit the soft mattress, Bucky pulled away and looked down at you. His body hovered over yours, and your hands caressed the back of his neck lovingly. “Make me yours.” You whispered.

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. “My little pearl…” he was feeling too much to talk. So he decided to let his emotions show instead. He planned on worshipping your body and make love to you until the sun came up.

Bucky pressed his body down against yours. Nothing had to be said, you could both see it in each other’s eyes; the love, the desire and the need. The feral need. That same tingle spread all over you again – the one you got each time he touched you even in the most innocent ways possible. You looked up to see his eyes had darkened a shade. His grip tightened on your body and he dipped his head and kissed down your neck – making you shiver again.

“I will make you mine. Just promise you’ll tell me if it hurts or makes you uncomfortable. Yes?” he made sure you understood. You nodded and mumbled a ‘yes’.

Bucky took his time and got you out of the lovely dress you were wearing. As much as he liked it, he liked you better naked. So he didn’t stop undressing you until you were bare against his sheets. He looked down at you like you were a meal, and he, a hungry man with an insatiable appetite. You felt no awkwardness, no shame. You were his, entirely and his gaze only made you feel more confident and beautiful.

He went on to remove most of his clothes as well, leaving only his pants on. Bucky leaned down to kiss every inch of your body. Your lips, down your neck, your collar bones and your chest. He paid a lot of attention to your breasts; licking and biting and sucking, letting his hands cup your breasts and taking his sweet time; caressing and fondling. Instinctively, your back arched off the bed and you whimpered under his soft, yet needy touch. Bucky was eager to show you how much he loves you, but he knew he had to take it slow.

He dragged his soft lips up and down your body, making you tremble under his touch. His beard pricked your skin but it also tickled, making your whine end in a giggle. He smiled when he heard the noises you made, he knew it would be his favorite things to hear from now on.

Your body tingled and burned under his touch, and there was nothing you wanted more than have him buried deep in you. But you were also nervous for your first time together, but the pressing need inside you overpowered the nervousness.

His mouth found yours as his hand slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went. The foreign, but very pleasant feeling caused a shiver to run down your spine; you shivered and moaned through the kiss. His knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you whimper. He chuckled against your mouth upon feeling just how aroused you were. Wet, and warm and ready – just as needy as he was.

But he wanted to take his time and savour you first. He ran his fingers up and down your folds, gathering and smearing your arousal around as he went. He poked at your entrance with his finger, “Is this okay, sweetheart?” he wanted to confirm. You nodded quickly, eyes shut and head thrown back.

“Yes… please Buck…” you were breathless already. Pulsing and hot, your body wanted him bad. So bad. He chuckled at your reply and pushed a finger into you and you shivered. He messed with you for a little bit; stroking your walls with his finger, then added another; making you whine.

You felt your hole stretch around his fingers as he was knuckles deep in you, slowly slipping his fingers in and out of you. He kissed the side of your face, along your jaw and down your neck as he sped up. Your legs spread further apart naturally, a sign that you wanted more. Bucky smirked.

“You feel so good around my fingers, sweetheart,” he whispered, nibbling at your jaw. “So warm, and wet…” he chuckled and the sound of his laugh was so hot it made your body clench around his fingers. He noticed and slowed down his pace, purposely teasing you. Oh he wanted to pleasure you so bad, but not so easily… “You’re dripping all over my hand,” he noted, seductively whispering and kissing the shell of your ear, “I wonder how you taste…”

You squirmed at the sound of his words, your heart racing in anticipation as he kissed his way down your body again. Quicker this time, impatient to reach in between your legs. You threw your head back and moaned once his lips kissed your inner thigh and his mouth latched onto your core in no time; his tongue teasing your clit softly. He had you squirming and moaning – a complete mess under him in no time.

He kept his fingers inside you, moving ever so gently against your walls. Your body welcomed the foreign feeling. You felt his rough beard scratch in between your thighs but that was the least of your concerns, all you focused on was his mouth on you. Shamelessly eating you out like you were his favorite meal. His tongue licked up and down your slit, diving in and out of your wet folds, occasionally running over your opening where his fingers were snug inside you.

You moaned and reached down to grip his hair. You squirmed and whined and cried out. Your legs trembled in pleasure, and Bucky lifted one of them and placed it over his shoulders, eager to taste you even more, pushing your core further into his mouth and making you cry out of pleasure. His hands locked around your thighs as the lower half of his face pressed down into your wet heat; his lips drenched with your arousal.

“Hmm,” his hum reverberated inside you, making you squirm. “You taste heavenly, my little pearl.” He whispered and placed a loud kiss right on your clit before getting back to eating you out like a madman again.

Your eyes were shut, but you imagine he must be quite the sight. Big and broad and muscular, knelt in between your legs, his face pushed in between your hips as he took your higher… and higher. A couple more strokes of his tongue and your moans got louder and louder, a strange but sweet pressure forming in your lower regions.

“Let go sweetheart, cum for me.” He mumbled. He had you coming in no time; gushing out all over his lips as he lapped up whatever you gave him. The wet sounds erupting whenever his mouth sucked on your sensitive clit were downright sinful. As the waves of euphoria washed over you, you felt him kissing his way up your body; leaving warm, wet kisses all over your skin until he reached your mouth again. Bucky kissed you deeply and his kiss was a little more rough and messy and demanding than earlier.

You were like a drug. And now that he had had a taste, he only wanted more. He needed more. Bucky pulled away from the kiss a few seconds later. Chest heaving, and recovering from your previous orgasm, you admired the man above you, as he lowered his pants, reached down and pulled out his cock; stroking it while he looked down into your eyes.

You lips parted in hunger. You wanted him so bad it hurt. Your walls clenched around nothing as you watched him stroke himself. His size both startled and excited you. You were both nervous and impatient to just have him in you already. Bucky leaned in again to press his forehead against yours again. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and gruff as he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance. You moaned out loud as he did. He grunted once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to adjust.

“You okay, my love?” he asked again, breathless as your walls squeezed him violently. Fuck…

“Yeah…” you were just as needy as him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you buried your face into the crook of his neck as you felt his body flex against yours. His back muscles felt taut and firm under your touch and his hard chest pressed down into you.

You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, attempting to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours. Slowly at first, testing and seeing if you could take it.

You moaned as your body welcomed him in, and Bucky got his answer.

He removed himself out of you entirely and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and dipped his head into the crook of your neck. You heard him panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulder and muscular arm; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. He slowed down occasionally, then picked up the pace again; making you lose your mind. Yes… yes…yes. All you knew was that you wanted him there, forever if you could.

You tried matching his thrusts but were unable to; so you simply let go. He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. Given his size, he stretched you out completely. And it did hurt, but the pleasure compensated for the pain.

“I love you so much…” he mumbled against your skin. But you were unable to answer, all you did was moan and whimper and squirm as he pounded into you. Your legs trembled and he lifted them up to wrap them around his waist. This allowed him to thrust deeper into you.

Bucky growled and bit down on your shoulder to keep himself from making any louder noises while he fucked you. He was relentless, as though each moan, each mewl which left your lips only encouraged him to give you his all.

He was sweet and caring as he handled your body, caressing you and kissing you, but he was also animalistic and wild at the same time. His kisses were passionate and deep. His touch was tantalizing, and he didn’t hold back as he made love to you. And you knew you could definitely get used to this. The now familiar pressure was back again, hot and burning. You got louder and so did he.

As he pulled away and looked down at you, you saw in his eyes, the determination, the hunger and the need; matching your own. “You’re all mine.” he whispered as he made you cum again around his cock for the first time that night. Your moans were wanton as your walls clenched around his cock. You felt him fill you up again, with his warm load shooting at your walls. “Mine.” he growled and collapsed into your arms.

At some point during the night, he took you again. This time he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips, your ass up in the air.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked again.

“Yes.” you replied almost immediately.

He kissed the back of your neck and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his hard body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up just like he had earlier.

Bucky’s hand found its way to your front and he pressed his palm against your lower abdomen. He liked the wave of excitement which coursed through his veins each time he felt himself thrusting deep within you. He liked how he was the only one who would ever touch you like this, the only one who would own you like this, the only one who would ever fuck you like this.

You moaned at how wonderfully Bucky stretched you out and rammed his thick cock in and out of you rapidly. You felt your walls clench around him, and tightening around his thick member. The sounds leaving his lips were sinful more than anything. And it sent shivers down your spine. He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face lovingly.

He didn’t slow down as your walls clenched around him violently, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came; hard. Bucky fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and how perfect you felt around him.

Unable to form coherent sentences, you moaned as you felt your release approaching. Your legs were shaking, and your body moved along with his perfectly. You wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him. A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. He growled under his breath, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him.

You came again, walls tightening around his length. He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again. You noticed his irregular thrusts and the sound which left his lips; he came right after you; filling you up yet again.

After he was done, he fell limp into your arms, careful as to not crush you beneath his body weight.

He stayed like that for a while, and let you wrap your arms around him; with his head against your bare chest. He relished the feeling of being in your arms. Until he finally rolled over and pulled you into his side, tucking your head under his chin.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

---

Days went by in pure bliss.

“Do you miss it?” Bucky asked one night, as you laid your chest on his bare chest. Both of you worn out and tired after having made love to one another for hours.

You closed your eyes and sighed, pressing your face into his warm chest. His smell, his body heat, his soft touch – it was all pure heaven. You knew he was asking about the ocean.

“I do. But I miss it like one missed their childhood.” You explained further. “The nostalgia hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt. Take yourself for example, you will always miss your childhood; the freedom, the fun and the lack of responsibilities. Yet at the same time, now you’re grateful for what you have now and who you’ve become. You’re wiser and better and surrounded by people who love you.”

You tilted your head up and found him staring down at you, looking lovingly into your eyes. You spoke up again. “It’s the same for me. I will always miss it, I mean I was born there. But this is where I’m meant to be. With you, till my dying day.”

He rolled the two of you over and hovered above you. His long hair framing his face, making him look so handsome and angelic you could cry. “I love you.” he said, his bare body pressing down on you under the covers.

His body heat wrapped around you like a protective cocoon. “I love you more.”

-6 YEARS LATER-

You stood on the beach, not too far from home. You smiled as you looked around; right on this beach is where you and Bucky got married 6 years ago. It was a beautiful wedding, and the celebration even more so. You turned around and caught a glimpse of the grand fortress. Stone and concrete, sharp and rough edges but still radiating a sense of warmth and security – much like the man who had it built himself.

Your smile grew at the thought of your husband. In just six years, so much had changed. For the better.

Your little reverie was interrupted by the sound of giggles and shouts of excitement. You looked straight ahead and found your three kids running around and playing close to the water, paying little to no attention to the beautiful sunset behind them. Yes, they were human but very much skilled when it came to diving into the ocean. You often took them swimming, and they all amazed you by how well they could hold their breath under water for surprisingly a long time. They definitely got that from you. And Bucky was proud of that.

You sighed in content at the sight of your kids. They were everything to you and Bucky. Speaking of Bucky, he caught you by surprise by coming up to you and wrapping his strong arms around you from behind, nuzzling your neck.

“Hello, my love.” he mumbled against your skin. You giggled. All these years and his voice still made you weak in the knees.

“Hi.” You turned your head to the side and beamed at him. “How did the meeting go with the rest?” Bucky and his crew were planning another loot soon, and they’ve been busy preparing and discussing these past days.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, his beard pricking your skin gently. But you had gotten used to the roughness of it, it was almost comforting now. “It was fine.” Bucky went on to give you some details about what they discussed.

Then you were both interrupted by the sound of your kids laughing and yelling in excitement. Apparently their sand castle was now complete, they’ve been working on it for hours. Bucky looked at them and a warm smile formed on his face.

“We should get these little monsters home and get them showered before dinner.” He smiled down at you. You chuckled.

“They won’t listen, and they won’t leave until their feet aren’t hurting from running around too much.” You knew your kids too well. “I’m afraid they’re just as stubborn as their father.” You added, teasing your husband.

He raised an eyebrow at you, smirking. “Are they now?” he leaned down to gently bite your partially exposed shoulder. You laughed, tipping your head back and resting it on his shoulder. He tightened his grip around you and looked down at you in pure and utter adoration and smiled. His wife, at last. The mother of his kids. Entirely his, finally.

Then as he often did, he got emotional just thinking about that night all those years ago, where he was foolish enough to think that letting you go was a good idea. He blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

You turned around in his arms and faced him. You reached up and cupped his face in your hands. “What for?”

Bucky looked down, seeing your bodies pressed together. He let out a dry chuckle. “I almost broke us apart forever that night.” he said and you knew exactly what he was talking about. “I didn’t realize I would be hurting you too. I was so stupid to even think that I would survive without you.”

He often brought it up, whenever he was sad or upset. Or when he’s had a little too much ale. He’s even cried in your arms like a child all night once when you brought it up casually. The guilt had diminished, but it was still there in him somewhere. But you had faith the one day it’ll be gone entirely. You were both working on it.

“It’s been years, Buck. Let it go. We’re here, aren’t we? We’re together and we have a family just like we always dreamt of. That’s all that matters.” You maintained his stare as you spoke. He nodded. “I love you.” you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. You pulled away and smiled, “Besides, if it weren’t for my fit of rage that day, I would’ve never found the potion. So think of it this way, we had to drift apart for a while, and it happened for a reason.”

He smiled and leaned in to press his forehead to yours. “I love you so much it hurts.” He mumbled, making you giggle. Then a thought popped into his head out of nowhere. “I never asked you this, but when you found the potion, did you drink all of it?” he had always been curious about that.

You smiled faintly, remembering the day you found it. “No.” you answered, deep in thought. “I took some, and then I put the rest right back.”

“Why?” he was intrigued. He wondered how come this conversation never came up earlier in the past years.

You pulled away and looked up at him. “I was scared. I saw it and I wondered, what if in the next life the roles are reversed? What if you’re born in the ocean and I, on land?” you chuckled, although your eyes watered a little. “I wanted there to be hope for us even then. I… I can’t imagine not finding you in the next life. Or the one after that, and the one after that.” you chuckled again. “It scares me, when I think about what if our paths don’t cross in another life?” You let the single tear fall, which Bucky caught as it ran down your cheek. “Or what if we can’t be together like this again?”

Bucky felt a weight on his chest at the sight of another tear escaping your eye. You wiped this one away quickly yourself. He couldn’t help but lean in and kiss you on the lips, a gentle, sweet kiss to remind you that he was right here and there was nothing for you to worry about.

“My little pearl…” he whispered softly as he pulled away from you. “All of you, your heart, your soul; you were made to be mine. Don’t you worry, I’ll find you in the next life as well. And the one after that, and the one after that.” His words earned him a teary smile from you. “I promise you, my love, I will always find you. And you will always end up being mine.”

You threw your arms around him tightly and pulled him in for a kiss. You felt him smile through the kiss which lightened up the mood a little. “And I promise to love you just the same each time.” You whispered against his lips.

Although neither one of you recalled the promise you made to each other that day on that beach; in each lifetime, you both kept your promises. Bucky kept his word, somehow he always ended up finding you. And you did the same, you loved him unconditionally each time. It didn’t matter when or where you met. Or how your story began or ended. All that mattered was that in the next life, and the one after that, and the one after that; you ended up together every single time.

Bucky had been right; you were made to be his. And him, yours.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #pirate!bucky #mermaid!reader #marvel #marvel au

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jetaime-jespere · 3 years

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Prompt #125

Back on these, after a slight hiatus. Set during 6x18, if Lauren had a different ending. Slight Emily x Ian, more in memory only.

#125: Make A Wish

“Make a wish, Lauren.”

The voice behind her is as cold as the gun placed at her temple with a sure hand, his other clamped firmly on her shoulder. That voice is completely devoid of the lust it used to hold when he would speak to her, when it was the two of them, him and her, in a world of their own. A world that was dangerous yet exhilarating, yet a place she somehow never questioned if she belonged. Not that she had a choice. It started as an obligation, part of the raw deal that came with infiltrating an international terrorist organization. There was no limit in her quest to prove her loyalty, she quickly learned through the nights she spent in his bed, the mornings that followed. He worshipped her body with his own, took her past her own limits only to lull her to sleep in his embrace. She earned his trust but he also gained hers, and only after he uttered the words I love you did Emily realize just how entrenched she was, the only way out meant sure death for one of them. Ensuring her own survival meant further entangling herself in lies and believing them with all her heart. If you play, you play for keeps. The only thing she didn’t expect was for the lies to become the truth, because after a while, each time she repeated his sentiment, she meant it just a little more until she wasn't sure she knew the difference anymore.

Except this isn’t Tuscany or Galway, Rome or Dublin. Gone are the beautiful views from the balconies of his villa, where she could at least pretend like this wouldn’t all end horribly one day. The green pastures of Ireland don’t exist here, the springtime sun is gone. Instead, her ankles and wrists are bound to a chair in the middle of a cold warehouse in the middle of Boston, and she has mere minutes left to breathe, because she’s about to die at his hand.

“Lauren, are you ready to pay for what you’ve done? I told you I was going to take your life.” Emily closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. It’s been years and yet hearing his voice again, even after all this time, is like a window into the past.

Her security was built on a web of fallacy, it had been all along. Hushed promises behind closed doors in sound-proofed rooms in the middle of European cities that it was over, that she was safe, were mere falsehoods. She left Lauren Reynolds and the world of Interpol behind years ago, a conscious choice that was never regretted, only remembered from time to time in the quiet silence accompanied by the unrelenting pull of too much alcohol. She never lingered on it for too long, wouldn’t let herself go down that path, until she had no other choice, when she saw the messages from Sean that pulled her right back in.

Ian Doyle had escaped from prison. The moment Sean uttered those words Emily knew he would find her eventually; it was only a matter of when. She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. There was hardly any time to get things in order, to arrange for them to be taken care of, to ensure her team would be safe in the days, weeks, months, even years after she was gone. Whether that meant disappearance or death was anyone’s guess, but not a choice she’d have to worry about because it wouldn’t matter. Emily lured him out of hiding in DC, followed him to Boston a few days later as he rampaged his way through her friends systematically one by one. It essentially stole any chance of saying goodbye, and she’d turned away from them one last time, through the doors of the BAU, only giving in to the sob she’d been holding in her throat once she was safely in the car.

“Are you afraid?” Ian asks, his hand moving from her shoulder to the side of her face. His palm is rough, hardened from his years in prison, yet there’s something fleetingly reverent about it. Emily always marveled at the contrast of his hands, responsible for the pain and suffering of so many, could be so gentle and adoring with her. But that was long ago; the tables have long been turned.

“No,” she lies, and he just laughs, brushes his thumb over her jaw almost adoringly.

She straightens her back, her arms trembling and her heart pounds through her chest. The gun cocks in her ear; she feels it brush her temple again.

“Make a wish, Emily. It’s time. You have ten seconds.” When she hesitates, her body tensing at his words, he chuckles. “Close your eyes. Sometimes it helps.”

She obeys, and, it’s Aaron’s face she sees, brief moments in time as her life flashes before her eyes.

“Ten.”

It takes almost a month to speak of the first kiss (it happened after a few too many beers one night with the team) and two more weeks before there is another. The second time around they’re stone cold sober (it’s better that way), and when he asks if she’d like to go out with him sometime, she blushes with a resounding “yes.”

“Nine.”

Their first date is one she’s always held close to her heart. He’d made reservations, planned dessert, and on a whim, she bought a new dress just for that occasion even though there were more hanging in her closet than she could count. This one was dark green, with an open back, and she knew right away it was the one. Except they never made it to the restaurant, because a case in Memphis called them away the morning before. She only smiled when there was a knock at the hotel room door late on the evening that should have been spent with their heads bent together over a table in the back of a picturesque Italian restaurant. But instead he held a bag of takeout, wearing a grin while uttering the words “Plan B?”

“Eight.”

He’s still inside of her for the very first time, unable to focus his mind on much of anything because Emily is still panting his name in his ear, when he decides he doesn’t want to be with anyone else, ever again.

“Seven.”

In Colorado, mere hours after the compound went up in flames, Aaron can hardly be objective as she ambles toward the hospital exit with discharge papers in one hand, the other cautiously guarding her broken ribs. Her face is bruised, her clothes dirty, and while Reid is just a few feet away dozing fitfully in chairs, Aaron goes right to her, thumbing her cheek in a rare display of public affection. “I’m alright. It’s not as bad as it looks,” she tells him bravely, even though she’s already sore, muscles aching, exhaustion starting to cloud her every thought. “I just want to go home.” In those moments, Aaron realizes he is the closest thing to home she has right now, and he doesn’t leave her side for the rest of the night.

“Six.

As she stares at JJ’s newborn son cradled in her arms, Emily wonders, with a fleeting glance at Aaron, if she’ll ever have the chance to do the same thing. Now, she never will.

“Five.”

On many mornings, Aaron wakes her up with coffee on the nightstand and gentle hands pulling the covers from her legs, pushing the hem of his shirt past her hips as he settles her legs over his shoulders. Her eyes aren’t even open before she’s already rocking her hips up towards him, an uncoordinated hand grappling for something to hold onto. The way he moves, slow and determined, is a contrast to the speed at which they’re used to, frantically moving from one case to the next. He’s taught her to be patient; he’ll get her there eventually, but she’s not in the mood to wait this morning. “Aaron,” she breathes his name, but he shakes his head in tandem with the flicks of his tongue. “Soon,” he assures, a promise he’s never broken. And true to that promise, he sends her spiraling into bliss a few moments later.

“Four.”

“I want to tell Jack,” Aaron says one evening when they’re sitting in traffic in the middle of Dallas, on the tail end of a case as she gazes out the window. “About us.”

“Three.”

“Can Emily stay for dessert too?” Jack asks innocently, his face covered in spaghetti sauce as the plates are cleared from the table. It’s about time they told him why his father’s pretty friend from work was spending more time than usual at the apartment, why a sweatshirt was left on the couch the week before, why there’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom and a few extra bottles in the shower. It’s been something they’ve held off on, Haley’s death still fresh and the timing not quite right. But the look on Jack’s face tells him everything they need to know, and Emily’s heart swells when Aaron smiles and murmurs, “sure, buddy.”

“Two.”

The two and a half years they spend together, in some semblance of the word, one way or another, are some of the happiest she’s ever known, the most peace she’s ever felt.

“One.”

I hope you can forgive me, for never telling you the truth, she thinks as she pictures the hurt and pain that will darken on his face when he finds her body. Emily knows they’re coming, but they’ll be too late. Tell Jack I’m sorry too.

Her eyes flutter closed again on their own accord as her lip trembles in unbridled fear. It’s so silent in the warehouse she hears the gentle scrape of Ian’s boots on the ground as he steps back, taking a steadying breath of his own, his finger curled around the trigger.

This is it. Make a wish.

The gun fires; she’s acutely aware of the throbbing echo in her ears as the sound reverberates, which confuses her, because it’s not supposed to be this way. It’s a dissonance of sounds - things she shouldn’t be cognizant of because the bullet that pierced the air is supposed to be in her head. But another voice - she recognizes this one instantly too - bellows something she can’t quite decipher, calm and steady, accompanied by the thunderous footsteps of a team of agents that sweep into the room. Glancing down at the concrete ground Emily sees Ian’s body, his gun a few feet away. A pool of blood seeps around him, her stomach lurches at the sight of his head split open, and she has to look away toward the small window, where the dawn of another sunrise has started to bleed through the sky.

They made it.

“Emily!” It’s the same voice as the one from moments before, and when she realizes what just happened, Aaron is already kneeling in front of her, frantically working at the plastic zip ties that have cut welts into her wrists and ankles. He’s shouting at someone that isn’t her, something about hurry up, and soon she’s freed, but her limbs don’t want to work correctly or coordinate at all. They don’t have to, because strong arms are pulling her into his chest, her chin hits his vest, and the scent of him nearly splits her heart in half as he lowers her to the ground.

And for the second time since this hell began, she starts to cry, her fingers clenched around the fabric of his shirt. Through the deep sobs she attempts to speak, apologies that aren’t even close to coherent, the adrenaline that’s coursed through her already starting to give way to exhaustion. But words won’t work either, and he shushes her with a finger to her lips, matted hair pushed out of her face as Aaron thumbs away the tears that collect in her eyes.

“It’s over,” he soothes, repeating the words over and over, until they both believe it. He’s unaware of the extent of her injuries, won’t risk adding to them as he signals for a medic. She breathes through the tears, her chest heaving, the only thing she’s remotely aware of is the beat of his heart, unsteady against her own.

It’s over, she reminds herself as she takes one last look at Ian’s dead body a few feet away, a reassurance to herself that this is in fact real, that he can’t haunt her again. And as she lays on the ground, enveloped in the protective embrace of Aaron’s arms, Ian’s words linger in her mind.

Make a wish.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fic #prompts #Ian Doyle is here too #I've been sitting on this one for awhile and finally worked up the motivation to do it

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nitw · 3 years

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quotes from the sigmund corp game franchise that have me in shambles

“in the real world, ambitions fluctuate... and fade. people start things with a passion, but eventually they lose that initial drive and slow down. but imagine if you locked onto that initial push your entire life, never wavering... it’s more powerful than it seems.”

“do you think this is all about her? what about me? after all these years, am i not allowed to be selfish even once? ... i don’t want to be alone.”

“i both envy and pity river. me... i’m an actress, because i’ve been doing it all my life. not only on-stage, but off-stage... and at practically every moment. i’ve gotten good at it, because acting is the only option i have. it’s the only way for me to be ‘normal’. but river... she never did that. she remained an outcast and refused to step against it. ... i don’t know if it was by choice or by limit, whether bravery or cowardice. ... there are days when i just can’t stand faking it anymore. and then, i realize that it’s too late. the isabelle that people know of is all an act, and the real me has long become a stranger. i think in the end... i just envy her.”

“i’ve never told anyone, but... i always thought they were lighthouses. billions of lighthouses... stuck at the far end of the sky. they can see all the other lighthouses out there, and they want to talk to them. but they can’t because they’re all too far apart to hear what the others are saying. all they can do... is shine their lights from afar. ... so that’s what they do. they shine their lights at the other lighthouses, and at me. because one day...... i’m going to befriend one of them.”

“what if you forget... or get lost?” “then we can always regroup on the moon, silly!”

“come up here.” “uh, why?” “why not...?” “you’re just gonna push me off the ledge again, aren’t you?” “probably. but the view’s worth the odds. ... c’mon.”

“y’know, i’ve done and seen a lot in my lifetime. i’ve been to where i once thought i’d never be, and seen what i once thought i’d never see. ... but in the blink of an eye, suddenly, there’s no more time. and i find myself here, just like everyone else... i walk through these doors, and i realize... that there’s still this empty feeling inside me. i don’t mean to be ungrateful to the life i’ve had, but... i just want to feel like i’ve done enough in this world before i go, you know? i want to say i’ve lived a happy life, and i want to feel like i have few regrets. but somehow, after all that... i still can’t.”

“everyone goes into things with their own context, y’know. maybe it’s only fair that they didn’t care much for it. maybe the bird was something different to you than it was to them.”

“i can’t teach you anything you don’t know, nor can i make you do anything you don’t want. ... maybe all you really wanted was for someone to be there. even if it was just someone... like me. ... i know it’s mesmerizing here, colin. but you’ve been spending so much time with me, and imagining what couldn’t be... don’t you think you’re forgetting what actually is, and could be? sometimes, stepping out of this little world we’ve made... is the only way to notice and appreciate all the beautiful things around you. sure... if i go, you’ll be alone at times even when you don’t want to be. but that’s all a part of growing up, and it’s all a part of life. it’s what makes fleeting moments with our loved ones treasured, and our memories precious.”

“what we do is different from just... this.” “how is it different?” “we-... because there’s more to it! there’s more to what we do. we fulfill wishes... we give meaning to people’s lives. what we do... it has to be more than just that of an imaginary friend.” “... it’s a lot more elaborate, for sure. but for someone who had to fight just to let go of fantasy and embrace reality... maybe our existence was merely an unwelcomed amplifier. a reminder of the make-believe, the imaginary... and the endless possibilities that make reality seem less than what it is.”

#its midnight. help #leo.txt #sigcorp #sigmund corp #to the moon #finding paradise

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drowningbydegrees · 3 years

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This prompt from the ��Music Prompt List wouldn’t leave me alone, so have Geralt being awkwardly kind of fluffy. <3

incidental music background music for a play, movie or television show. It sets the mood and illustrates the action for a play~unnoticed

Read on AO3

Does anyone ever mean to fall in love? Geralt doesn’t. It doesn’t happen like the ballads say, with flowers, and sonnets, and grand gestures. It happens in the in between, the quiet moments that Jaskier’s songs never touch on. Love creeps like a vine on a building, sneaking in and sprawling out so slowly that by the time it covers the wall, you can’t remember a time before it was there anymore.

It starts, at least, in things that make sense. It’s a lopsided little smile Jaskier gifts him with when he catches Geralt listening to him play. It’s the soft hum on the other side of the campfire one night when Jaskier knows Geralt can’t sleep. It’s warm hands patching up Geralt’s torn shoulder with a tenderness he doesn’t really require.

But then the feeling strays so unfairly, into the ridiculous and sometimes thoroughly obnoxious. It’s Jaskier looking hopelessly disheveled, his hair sticking up in strange directions from a hand absently run through it, a splotch of ink on his cheek where he tapped his quill against it, deep in thought. It’s listening to him complain off and on for two miles because he can’t think of a rhyme for bloedzuiger. It’s coming back late from a contract to find Jaskier has fallen asleep curled up in the entirety of the bedding in their room. These aren’t precisely lovable things. They’re messy, irritating even. And yet. And yet. And yet...

For so long, Geralt does not think they are things he loves. They’re just things that are, like the din of conversation at an inn. They’re the suggestion of something distant in a painting, smudges devoid of details that exist all the same.

***

Much like affection, winter sort of ambushes Geralt. Rich green foliage goes red and gold until all the world is ablaze. It’s beautiful in the way that these fleeting moments so often are, a riot of color that withers away even more abruptly than it arrived. There’s a chill in the air that promises snow will soon cover the dead leaves crunching under their feet, a sign Geralt can no longer ignore.

It doesn’t matter. They flit in and out of each other’s lives all the time, and already Jaskier has traveled with him almost nonstop since the spring. Geralt most certainly doesn’t need the company. To go their separate ways is as reasonable in this moment as it has been every other time they’ve done it over the last decade. Somehow this time it leaves Geralt feeling inexplicably hollow.

Geralt has always been at home with silence. It’s a quality that lends itself well to the life of a witcher, this ability to find peace instead of loneliness in the quiet of his own company. But they spend that night in their room’s single bed and Geralt lies awake wondering when the warm press of Jaskier’s face tucked against his neck became such a welcome thing, when his fingers tangling in the bard’s hair got to be so instinctive. When did Jaskier get to be so wrapped up in his life as to leave Geralt dreading the absence?

None of that chases away the sunrise, or the silence that promises to follow in its wake. They break apart the way they always do when their plans take them in different directions. Could be a week, a month, a year even. They’ve done it a hundred times, and they do not belong to one another, so Geralt doesn’t know what to make of the unexpected urge to look back.

He lets the Path carry him away as it always does, and it’s fine, really. A day passes, and then another, and a third. At this pace he’ll easily reach Kaer Morhen before the snow really starts in. It’s fine, as it should be… except when it’s not.

There’s no familiar face smiling at him from the other side of their fire. There’s no strumming of lute strings. There’s no endless, exhausting conversation. What he’s faced with now is everything his life was ordained to be, everything Geralt has been used to for decades, and yet this time it feels all wrong.

Maybe he’s always been lonely, but it’s the first time Geralt recognizes the feeling for what it is. Loneliness is a stone’s throw away from grief, and this is grieving in some strange, subdued way. It’s a hole in the shape of another person’s life and for a strange, fleeting second, he lets himself wonder if he ought to have gone to Oxenfurt with Jaskier.

That’s an absurd thought. He always goes to Kaer Morhen and Jaskier nearly always goes to Oxenfurt, and they’ve never broached the idea of any alternative arrangement. It’s only a few months, probably. Maybe. They always find each other again eventually don’t they?

Geralt sets out for Oxenfurt before the sun comes up.

***

He does not know, Geralt realizes, what Jaskier does in the cold months where they part ways. He knows the bard teaches when he's not entertaining in some court or another, but that's a sorry excuse for an answer. It's as paltry as it would be to sum up Jaskier's life in Geralt's company with the performances he gives in inns along their way. Both of these things are true, but neither of them are whole.

Does he sit in crowded spaces to soak up the atmosphere? Does he luxuriate in having a place that is his own and a roof over his head for a few months? Geralt has no idea, but he wants to.

Oxenfurt turns out to be less straightforward than he had hoped. He tries the college first where a young woman waxes poetic about the bard until Geralt finally manages to interrupt long enough to ask what classroom he’d be in.

“None today, I’m afraid. He’s probably- Oh, you must be the witcher.” The words hold an unexpected warmth. He’s not sure what to make of it, but before Geralt knows it, she’s rattling off Jaskier’s address.

The house is lovely from the outside. A gabled roof sits atop the gray stone exterior, not nearly so ostentatious as Geralt might have expected. It’s also further off the beaten path than he’d anticipated from someone so keen on being the life of the party.

But Geralt doesn’t even get as far as knocking before one of Jaskier’s neighbors spots him, a smartly dressed academic of some sort. “I doubt the professor is home yet.”

It’s so strange to hear anyone call Jaskier that, an uncomfortable reminder that the bard has a whole life beyond the time he spends with Geralt that the witcher doesn’t know about. Likely because it’s never occurred to him to ask, but Geralt finds himself sorely wishing he had now. “Where would I find him?”

“Are you a friend of his?” The man’s eyes narrow a little like he’s waiting for Geralt to slip up and give himself away as a thief or something.

“I’m his…” Geralt sighs. “Yeah.”

“The witcher, then.” The neighbor smiles in that absent, polite way that villagers tend to smile at passersby. It’s not a response that usually applies to him. Geralt has no idea what to make of the shift in demeanor, but the man does point down the road. “There’s an inn down that way. I’d check there this time of day.”

“Right...” It just figures, even in his absence Jaskier manages to be exhausting.

There’s a creak of hinges on Geralt’s left, and the neighbor smiles and waves. “I guess he’s home after all.”

Not entirely exhausting, then. Geralt forces his expression to remain neutral. “Jaskier.”

Jaskier lights up when he meets Geralt’s eye like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. It’s such a tiny, inconsequential thing, but wonderfully, terribly, the world feels like it’s slid back into its proper place. The warmth that takes up residence behind Geralt’s breastbone is just further confirmation of the ruin he’s courting.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you… don’t you have some witchery thing to run off to? It may shock you to know, but the Kaedwani mountains are that way.” As Jaskier ushers Geralt inside, he points in… well, it’s definitely a direction.

“No.” Geralt shakes his head. What a pair they make, the both of them completely ridiculous.

“No what? And will you please sit down already?” Jaskier clears some of his papers away, as if what’s on the side table has any bearing at all on Geralt’s ability to sit in the armchair beside it.

Too restless to actually sit down, Geralt leans against the doorframe as he takes in Jaskier’s slightly ruffled appearance. There’s no doublet. Just trousers and a chemise rolled up to his elbows. It shouldn’t be so hard to look away, and yet he has to force himself. “The mountains are that way.”

Jaskier follows the length of Geralt’s arm where it’s pointed north. He purses his lips as he turns back to the witcher. “Okay fine. I got a bit turned around, but nevermind that. They are… wherever they are, but you are here. Why?”

Fuck. Geralt had been so focused on the coming back and finding Jaskier, there wasn’t much consideration to what reason he’d give when he got here. What can he possibly say? That it was too quiet without his endless chatter? That Geralt’s world was somehow less for Jaskier’s absence. It’s too vulnerable, so he gruffly replies, “Didn’t think I could beat the snow.”

“I see.” There’s a sweet, uneven quirk to Jaskier’s lips. The minute Geralt meets Jaskier’s eyes he knows he’s been found out to some extent, but Jaskier responds in the least Jaskier-like way he’s ever seen. There’s no gloating, no teasing. Jaskier doesn’t even acknowledge that they both know he’s lying through his teeth. Most strangely of all, he’s quiet. “Well, it snows here too. You’ll probably want to think about taking a break somewhere until the weather clears up.”

Right. He hadn’t quite gotten that far either. On the road together, it’s just a given that they’ll share a room, but that’s quite a bit different from inviting himself into a space that is Jaskier’s. Not willing to admit that he’d sort of hoped to go back to the normalcy of that, Geralt sticks to answering vaguely. “I’m sorted out.”

“Are you? Because I thought you might just stay with me.” He’s seen this a thousand times. Jaskier has a knack for offering things the other person is too proud or afraid to ask for for themselves. It’s just Geralt usually isn’t the one subjected to that particular talent. “Unless I’ve got this all wrong and you didn’t come back because you missed me. Well, no. You could stay with me either way. It’s just that the appeal probably isn’t the same.”

“I could do that.” Geralt replies quickly to the offer while making every effort to sidestep Jaskier’s more dangerous insinuation. It’s kind of Jaskier to tolerate this thing Geralt can’t quite get to settle, but the witcher harbors no illusions that it’s anything more than tolerance. He tries for nonchalant and has no idea if he succeeds, but Jaskier’s lopsided smile suggests that no, he really doesn’t.

“Perfect.” Jaskier offers Geralt a hand. “Let me show you around.”

***

“Well, I guess there’s no backing out now,” Jaskier says as Geralt walks him to class. Well, no. That’s definitely not what this is. It’s just that he had an errand to run, and the college is in the same direction, so not walking together would be weird and awkward.

“What?” Geralt’s brows knit in confusion, and he watches Jaskier try to catch a snowflake on his tongue as if that will somehow give him the answer.

Jaskier smiles at Geralt, a little toothy. It’s the kind that makes Geralt feel pinned like a butterfly to a board. “It’s snowing.”

Oh right. He had said that. He knows Jaskier hadn’t bought the excuse when Geralt turned up, but the bard hasn’t said anything about it since. It was probably foolish to think that meant he’d gotten away with it. There’s nothing he can that won’t give himself away further, so Geralt opts not to say anything at all. That, at least, is normal.

And for a little while, it seems like it works. Jaskier prattles on about the weather and how beautiful Oxenfurt is at night when it’s snowy and the moon is out, and Geralt just immerses himself in the comfort of how normal this is.

At least until it’s not. The silence that falls between them is abrupt, and draws out so long that Geralt looks over at Jaskier. It’s a terrible mistake though, because Jaskier is looking right back, entirely too expectant. “Sooooooooooo. Are we going to talk about this?”

The question is oddly free of dramatics, but it doesn’t make the subject matter any less terrifying. Clinging to whatever balance they’d found since he got here, Geralt insists, “Nothing to talk about.”

“Okay.” For a second, Jaskier is quiet. His expression is thoughtful, teeth dragging enticingly along his bottom lip. “But just… It sort of seems like there is.”

He could maybe leave, say he forgot something at the house. Jaskier would probably even let him go, but they’d both know it for the retreat that it is, so Geralt doubles down. “There isn’t.”

Geralt doesn’t really know when he learned to recognize Jaskier’s ‘you are being exceedingly difficult right now’ face, but he knows the tightness at the corners of the bard’s eyes and the flat line his mouth pulls into. Yet, there’s no mockery or sign of irritation when Jaskier insists on pressing the issue. “Alright, but see there’s this one thing. Here’s what I know about you on account of traveling with you for a decade. You are generally consistent and you have never once in the entire time I’ve known you passed up an opportunity to tell me when I was wrong, or to poke fun.”

Geralt knows exactly where this is going, but arguing such an obvious truth would just bolster Jaskier’s point, he thinks. Silence isn’t really better, but it’s what Geralt sticks to as Jaskier keeps talking.” So, when you don’t tell me I’m wrong to assume you came back because you missed me… It’s hard not to assume that you came back for more than just a roof over your head.”

“What do you want me to say?” Geralt replies irritably, because if this is Jaskier’s idea of softening a rejection, it’s not helping. If he’s lucky, Jaskier will just laugh it off and Geralt will swallow everything back down, and they can move on to something less embarrassing.

“I don’t know.” Jaskier is biting his lip again, and despite the nervous tumult in his stomach, Geralt has never so badly wanted to kiss anyone in his life. “I just want you to say what’s true.”

What’s true. For the first time since they set out, Geralt pays attention to what’s there beside him. Jaskier’s heartbeat has picked up somewhere along the way, and when Geralt looks over, the bard’s cheeks are flushed from more than just the cold.

What’s true is that there are a thousand ways to tell a person you love them. Sometimes it’s a fond smile or a gentle touch or… oh. Geralt swallows and does not look at Jaskier anymore as he says, “Life is… quiet when you’re not in it.”

He knows that self-deprecating laugh he gets from Jaskier and regrets being the one to cause it. “I thought you preferred the quiet.”

“Me too.” It’s hardly more than a whisper. “But it’s not the right kind of quiet.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what that means,” Jaskier says and Geralt sort of hates that he’s the one struggling to say what he means and yet Jaskier is the one being apologetic over it.

“It’s like… fuck. I don’t know. When you think about the woods being quiet, it doesn’t mean silence. You still hear the wind and the birds and all that, but it belongs there, so it’s not noise.” Somehow, this doesn’t feel like what he meant to be saying at all either, but he’s committed to this ill advised analogy, so that’s a thing. “If those things stop, it’s not a good kind of quiet. It just means something’s wrong.”

“Geralt. Are you suggesting my company provides some sort of ambiance to your travels?” Jaskier’s eyes light up with some sort of mischief and Geralt scowls because he can’t decide if he’s being encouraged or teased.

Actually, Geralt supposes that is what he’s suggesting, but it doesn’t feel like a clear enough conveyance of what he means. Geralt might not need words, but Jaskier does. Sometimes ‘I love you’ is digging up the courage to admit, “The world around me feels wrong when you’re not in it.”

“So your solution was to drop the routine you’ve kept to for, actually I don’t even know how long to come back to me?”

“Obviously not. I-” With no small amount of horror, Geralt realizes that’s actually exactly what he’s done. He’s honestly very relieved that it’s still quite early and the streets are still largely empty, because Jaskier stops in the middle of the street and the witcher strongly suspects he’s about to make a very embarrassing scene. “Is that a problem?”

“Why would it be a problem? It’s absurdly romantic. I didn’t even know you were capable of that.” Sure enough, Jaskier is suddenly very close, a hand lifting to cradle Geralt’s cheek. Jaskier doesn’t say anything, but he signals his intent, giving the witcher plenty of time to pull away. As if he possibly could.

Geralt’s throat is suddenly dry, and when he finally manages to say something, it’s quiet. “What are you doing?”

“Well, you came all this way to get back to me.” Jaskier presses his forehead to Geralt’s. “I figured I could meet you partway.”

Geralt isn’t actually sure which of them closes the last couple of inches between his mouth and Jaskier’s. It’s just warm, liking what he imagines coming home would be like. Jaskier’s arms wind around Geralt’s back between his shirt and his cloak, and Geralt’s fingers tangle in Jaskier’s hair, and actually it turns out that he doesn’t care in the slightest if they’re making a scene.

Everything runs a little bit together after that. There is only the solid presence of Jaskier pressed against him and the snow coming down around them in fat, fluffy flakes that are just beginning to stick to the ground. Distantly, he thinks maybe they could just go home. It’s not as if there’s any reason to be out in the cold, except… With a disappointed groan, Geralt mumbles between kisses. “Don’t you have class?”

“Class… oh bollocks.” Jaskier pulls back, flushed and glassy eyed and Geralt wants nothing more than to pull him right back in. But there will be time for that later and the flustered way Jaskier stumbles back and looks around like he’s only just remembered they’re in public is terribly endearing. “Yes, well just… we’ll come back to this.”

Geralt laughs with unexpected ease at Jaskier’s reluctant efforts to get moving again. It’s another minute or two before Geralt remembers the one other thing that keeps crossing his mind. “When I was trying to track you down, people knew who I was.”

Jaskier’s mouth turns up, and it’s clear from the sheepish way he ducks his head that he hears the question Geralt isn’t asking. “You’re not the only one who prefers life when we’re both in it together.”

“You talk about me?” And sure, Jaskier talks about him all the time in songs and stories, but this is different.

Jaskier shrugs like it doesn’t mean anything, but they both know better. “It’s what I get to hold onto, what I get to keep when you’re not here.”

“Well, I’m here now.” Their fingers thread between each other’s and Jaskier hums the song he’s been working on. Geralt allows himself the faintest of smiles. Sometimes, love is choosing to share your existence with someone else and taking unexpected refuge in the background noise.

You can find the rest of my Witcher fanworks here. <3

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #my fic #pining #and fluff

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