#∫ WRITING | there’s so much on my mind and hardly anyone who cares to listen | drabbles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flippinpancakes64 · 5 months ago

Note

Hello! I love your stuff and I wanted to request their response to:

Reader: Let me take care of you.

Them: It's rotten work...

Reader: Not to me...not if it's you.

Keep writing! You're amazing! (And I need something to read while I stay up)

Taking care of the Cullens

Ok ngl this ask has me giggling and kicking my feet

Jasper let me take care of you 😡😭❤️

Uhm and remember in my request rules thing where I said I don’t do narratives… i might be a big fat liar cause that’s what I did here… don’t come for me

And thank you so much for the kind words! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

We all know he has a bit of a complex when it comes to his worth and his humanity

He tends to get in his own head a lot

Especially when it comes to you and your relationship

He doesn’t really get jealous in the normal sense

He just sort of gets sad when he sees you with other people

It’s one day after school and Edward seems to be avoiding you. You’re sitting at the table with Emmett, Alice, Esme, and Jasper playing a card game.

Only Edward is nowhere to be found.

The game finishes, Alice winning and Emmett immediately going into ranting mode about how it’s rigged. You excuse yourself to go check on him.

You find him upstairs in the piano room, plunking away on the keys mindlessly. If he wasn’t a vampire and you didn’t know better, you would say he didn’t even notice you enter the room.

You stood behind him for a while, watching as his fingers danced over the ivory keys.

“It sounds beautiful” you say.

He doesn’t respond.

“Edward, what’s the matter? You’ve hardly spoken to me all day.”

“Do you ever wish I was human?”

The question catches you off guard.

“To wish for you to be human would be to change you, and I happen to love you just the way you are.”

He huffs, his fingers halting.

“But don’t you wish I was warm? Don’t you wish I could eat the foods you like, actually sleep next to you at night, grow old with you?”

You sit down next to him at the stool and take his hands in your own.

“What were you like when you were human?”

The change of subject seems to catch him off guard, his face twists slightly as he thinks. He pauses for a beat before answering.

“I was a bit of a troublemaker. My mom always said I was giving her grey hairs way too early. I didn’t do any of my schoolwork, I just wanted to go and be free.”

“Hm, sounds like the you that could sleep, eat, and grow old was a bit of a wild card. Not really my type. You know I prefer the sophisticated, musical type.”

He laughs at that, hanging his head down to press a kiss to your joined hands.

“So what you’re saying is you like the version of me without a soul better,” he says bitterly. You frown at that.

“No, I’m saying I like the you that I have now. I love you, Edward. I would never trade you for anyone else in the world whether they have a pulse or not.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“You know this is how it will always be, right? I’ll always be here, trying some new way to push you away from me. To make you realize that you deserve better.”

“And I’ll always be here to take care of you and make sure you know that my mind will never change.”

“Taking care of me for the rest of your life… talk about the worst job you could get.”

“Only it won’t be a job. Not for me. Not when it’s for you.”

He looks at you then, finally. His big, black eyes staring into yours.

You’ve wished it before, but in this moment you wish you were the one who could read his mind instead of the other way around.

“You’re so stupid,” he smiles, and leans in for a kiss.

Maybe one day he’ll fully believe you.

Alice:

Alice has a tendency to shut down whenever there’s too much going on

Too many people are on the cusp of making decisions that could change their lives

It seems that every person she meets on the street has a vision attached

She can’t take it anymore

You find her curled up in a ball in her room, the TV playing a program you don’t think she’s watching.

Around her are scattered sketchbook pages, each one hastily ripped from the pad and thrown to the floor.

On these pages are drawings of buildings, people, animals, and tragedies. You catch the face of a woman who’s screaming as a bullet heads straight for her face. In another is an open room with a small grenade in the center.

No wonder she’s been so upset.

None of the pages show joy, every single one a warning of a disaster that’s just waiting to happen.

In front of her, there’s a stack of drawings that she’s flipping through. On one of them you catch what looks like your face, only it’s contorted in a scream. In another you see Jasper, but you can’t make out what’s around him.

“Alice,” you call out, and her head whips up. Maybe she hadn’t heard you like you thought she did. “What’s wrong?”

She looks at you like a deer in headlights for a moment, before her eyes glance back down to the papers in front of her.

“There’s nothing wrong. Not yet, at least.”

Her tone is grave. You can hear the desperation for an answer, or at least a break.

You sigh, and move to sit next to her. You reach to take the stack of papers from her, meeting no resistance. If she wanted to keep them from you, she could. But she knew now that fighting you was always going to be useless.

“Alice, I know you can’t control the fact that you see these visions. But you can control how much you obsess over them. This isn’t healthy.”

“I don’t need to be healthy. I can’t die or get sick.”

You sigh again. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. You can’t keep withering away in here obsessing over what might happen.”

“But-“

“No buts.” You say, throwing the stack of papers to the side. “How long ago did you have these visions?”

She thinks for a moment.

“Yesterday, I think.”

“Alright. Have they happened yet?”

“Well, no…”

“From what you saw, are they still a possibility now?”

“…they are… a very low possibility…”

You could see her reluctantly piecing together your words, clearly not wanting to admit her mistake out loud.

“Look, Alice, you know that I’m always touched by you looking out for me, but in moments like this I need to look out for you too.”

She looks into your eyes, then hangs her head again.

“But that’s not how it’s supposed to be. My gift, I should be the one taking care of you-“

“No. There is no ‘supposed to’ anything. Humans aren’t ‘supposed to’ be with vampires and yet here we are. So please just come with me and watch a movie or cuddle or something?”

She looks at you again, then. Staring into your eyes, then glancing around her room, at all of the papers, then back to you. She smiles slightly and floats up to her feet.

“Fine. But I’m picking the movie.”

Jasper:

This is a man who needs some serious love and reassurance

He’s always on edge around you, even if he plays it off like he isn’t

He’s just always so scared of hurting you or doing something wrong

And a lot of the time that manifests as him isolating himself to try and get you to leave him

It was gonna be one of those nights again.

A night that you would spend alone in the bed you were supposed to be sharing with the love of your life, Jasper.

But no. On a night like this, he’s out in the woods, far, far away. Stewing in his feelings and brooding.

You don’t even remember anything happening this time. Sometimes something can set him off; a jab from someone at school, a hug he gave you that ended up being WAY too tight, anything really. Anything that reminds him of how he’s not supposed to be with you.

But right about now, you’re sick of it.

The Cullens have taken to being quieter at night since you’ve started sleeping over a lot more, but you know they’re all here- all except for the one you want.

So it being 2 am won’t bother any of the other residents of the house. You roll out of bed and march your way over to the door, throwing it open (politely) and stomping down the steps.

Emmett is the first one you see, and you decide he’ll be perfect for the job anyway.

“What’s got you going, firecracker?” He asks.

“I need you to go find Jasper and bring him to me. Now. I need to talk to him,” you couldn’t help the anger and frustration that seeped into your voice. Lack of sleep will do that to you.

Emmett stood up straight and gave a stupid salute, “One loner coming right up, boss.”

And with that he was out of the door, and you trudged back upstairs to wait for your boyfriend.

You were laying in the bed, still trying desperately to go to sleep when you heard a light knock on the door. Your eyes flicked open to see Jasper standing in the doorway, looking completely out of place and uncomfortable.

All of your anger left instantly, all you saw was the sweet man who was far too worried for his own good.

You sighed and scooted over, patting the spot next to you.

“Come here, Jasper.”

A look of what could only be described as fear flashed across his face before he shook his head and muttered a small, “i can’t.”

You sighed again and stood up, making your way over to him. When you reached him, you stretched your arms out to take his face in your hands, his eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

“Look, Jas, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I have a pretty damn good idea. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” he says, looking into your eyes, something about the black made him look more human, more scared. “Vampires are already dangerous, but I’m the worst of the worst. You’ve found yourself a faulty cannon amongst rifles, darling.”

You frowned at his analogy, squeezing his perfect face in your hands.

“You are NOT faulty, you hear me? You are perfect. Perfect for me, at least.”

“The perfect man for you wouldn’t be tearing himself up inside trying not to kill you.”

“And a lesser man would have already done it.” He was shocked at that, stunned into silence. He hung his head slightly, not meeting your eyes once more.

“And what if I do hurt you one day? Would you ever forgive me? Could I ever forgive myself?”

“I don’t think you will. But if you do, Carlisle will put me back together and I’ll jump right back into your arms.”

His eyes bore into your soul as he stared at you like you were crazy.

“Why the hell would you do that? Come running right back to me?”

“To make sure you don’t hate yourself for too long. Now come on, I’m tired and I can’t sleep without my personal AC unit.”

He looked at you with disbelief. You knew he didn’t believe you, you don’t know if he ever will.

But that’s okay. You’ll keep him right here, and pull him back to you every time he runs away.

Eventually, he’ll understand that you love him.

Rosalie:

The topic of kids has always been a very touchy one for Rosalie

It’s all she’s ever wanted, and all that she still wants

Most days, the pain is not too much of an issue

But some days, it just gets to be too much

You and Rosalie were walking down the street, hand in hand as you strolled by the different shops and food stands.

The city was busy today, many young couples out and about, shopping, talking, kissing far too passionately to be in public, the usual.

“Rose, do you mind if we sit down for a bit? These shoes Alice chose for me look really nice, but they are so uncomfortable.”

She giggled, but nodded and led you both to a bench. You sat down with a heavy sigh, finally getting off of your feet after what felt like forever (even though it was only about an hour).

Across the way in the little park you’ve both found yourself in, a young couple is sitting on a bench.

The woman has long, flowing, blonde hair that frames her face in loose curls. She’s wearing a gorgeous floral-patterned dress, and on her left hand is quite possibly the biggest, gaudiest ring you have ever seen.

To her right, a man sits, one who bears a striking resemblance to you, regardless of gender.

And in the middle, a little baby. A perfect mix of the two, her hair and his eyes, her nose and his jawline, all swaddled in a cute little onesie.

You’re about to turn to Rosalie to point out the cute baby (she always loves to look and maybe go touch it if the parents allow her to) when you see that she’s already looking.

Her face is grave, like she’s looking at her own headstone. Her face is twisted in grief, and she looks on the verge of tears.

It takes you a second to connect the dots, but once you do, your heart clenches for her.

That woman looks like her, reminds Rosalie of herself. And the man looks like you. And that baby is what she wants, all she’s ever wanted. What she can’t have.

Babies are always hard for her, but this struck a deep chord.

“Rose… do you wanna go home?” You ask softly, not wanting to come off as pushy.

“…”

“Come on, let’s go,” you grab her arm to pull her up, she goes with you, but keeps her head craned back to the young couple the whole time.

Once you’re far away, she breaks down. You’ve never seen a vampire cry, and that’s probably because they can’t. But if they could, Rosalie would be sobbing.

You know it’s bad because she doesn’t even care that she falls to the floor in this dirty, nasty alleyway. Normal Rosalie would rather die 100 times over than get her clothes dirty, especially here.

You sit down next to her, letting her dry heave and gasp into your shoulder, her wails breaking your heart.

You’re helpless here. Cause what can you really do? You can’t give her a kid, she can’t give you one either. You can’t go back in time and stop her from being killed. And you can’t go back and steal that baby from that couple (even though you kind of really want to).

So you just hold her.

You run her hair, pat her back, kiss her head, and whisper into her ear. How much you love her, how she’s perfect, how it’s okay, how you don’t think less of her.

Once she’s calmed down and her breathing has slowed, she looks up at you.

“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be seeing this side of me.”

“What? I want to be here for you, Rose. I know I can’t fix this for you, but at least I can-“

“Fix it? Darling, don’t worry about fixing me. I’m already completely broken, there’s nothing to fix.”

With that you just take a moment to look at her. Her face screams that she is broken. In her soul, at least. Her and Edward are a lot more similar than they like to think.

“Rosalie. You are not broken. There is nothing wrong with you.”

She scoffs at that. “I’m not human. I’d say that’s pretty wrong. Not to mention the fact that I can’t even look at a couple with a baby and not want to violently kill someone.”

“And that’s okay.”

She scoffs again.

“No, really, Rose. I mean it. I’m never ever going to think less of you for something like this. You went through something I can never even imagine and now you’re left to pick up the pieces. Just let me help you.”

She looks at you, her eyes staring into yours. The grief that she’s feeling is evident. But deep in her eyes, you see a touch of something else. Trust, maybe.

“You know, you’re gonna be picking up pieces for the rest of your life.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind. Not if it’s you.”

Emmett:

He likes to pretend to be all big and bad all of the time

But in reality, he's still a person

He just has a hard time remembering that sometimes

You don't know where he got all of that energy from.

I mean, realistically, you know that he can never get tired.

But really, even for a vampire this was unnatural.

Some nobody in school had challenged him to an arm wrestle. Of course, he can never resist. He grabbed the guy's hand and prepared to pummel him, only to flinch and have his hand thrown down against the wood of the desk.

The guy had one of those fake shock things in his hand, and as soon as Emmett clamped down it vibrated like crazy.

To say he was pissed would be an understatement.

And now he was taking all of that anger out on the trees around the Cullen house.

"That-" punch "fucking-" punch "ASSHOLE!" punch punch punch

It had been days. And you were honestly getting worried. He hadn't hunted in those days, much less came inside the house. You're surprised the park ranger hasn't come knocking yet.

You heard a hollowed cracking sound and looked to see Emmett standing triumphantly as a rather large oak tree fell to the ground, followed by a guttural roar from the man.

"Emmett," you called, barely above a whisper. But you know he heard you. "Come over here please."

He looks at you with a slightly guilty look, the anger from before fading away as he hangs his head and trudges over to you. He stops just a few feet in front of you, lamely kicking the rocks beneath his toes as he avoids your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s that stupid fucking guy-“

“No,” you stop him, putting your hand up to silence him. “What’s actually wrong? Don’t tell me you’re seriously this pissed about losing an arm wrestling match with some nobody.”

He just stood there in silence for a second. You took this chance to stand up and grab his face in your hands, instantly he leaned in, perching his head on your palms.

“I just… need to be strong. That’s what I am, I need to be strong,” he whispered, his voice coming out shy and meek.

You just smiled at him sadly and rubbed his cheek.

“I can be strong too you know. So every once in a while you can let me take care of you instead.”

He laughed at that.

“You, strong? As if. I could fold you in half!”

You punched him lightly in the arm.

“You jerk! I’m trying to be sentimental!”

He laughed again and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to their previous spot cradling his face.

“Ok ok, serious sentimental time.”

You just laughed and kissed him.

Esme:

She has a bad habit of overreacting

Just a dash of anxiety

So when something-anything happens to you, she freaks out

This is bad.

Like really, really bad.

You were supposed to be driving to go see Esme at the Cullen house, but of course your piece-of-shit car decided that now would be a perfect time to break down.

Too far away from home to walk back, too far away from the Cullens to walk there, and the nearest anything was also too far.

Not to mention the snow covering the ground didn’t really entice you to get out of your still-warm car.

So you tried calling someone to come get you.

Only, of course there’s no service out here because why would there be.

Just your luck.

You weigh your options, and decide that walking is just gonna have to do.

You didn’t pack a winter coat because you didn’t think you’d be outside for this long, but you had a blanket stored in your backseat and it was better than nothing.

So off you trekked through the freezing cold winter storm to the Cullen house.

Inside, Esme was (in)patiently waiting.

Your favorite meal was waiting for you, already plated and getting colder by the second on the dining room table.

You said you were on your way 30 minutes ago. It takes about 30 minutes to get from your house to their house.

So where were you?

Her ears perked at the sound of a slowly beating heart coming from down the driveway.

It didn’t sound like one of the foxes or deer that roam around this time of year. No, it sounded a bit bigger, a bit more human.

She was out the door in a flash. Before anyone had the chance to ask what she was doing she was by your side.

“Oh my god, honey, why are you out here?!”

“An angel…” and then you collapsed.

Cue Esme absolutely freaking the fuck out.

She has you in front of a lit fireplace, a heating blanket rested over your shoulders and a warm towel on your head.

She’s pacing back and forth in front of you. She wants to hold you so bad, to kiss you, cuddle you, protect you. But she can’t. She’ll just make the shivers wracking your body even worse.

“Es…” you croak, your eyes blinking open finally.

“Oh my god! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Why were you out there? Where’s your car? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Shhhh,” you whisper, bringing your finger up to shush her. “Just come here.”

You open up your blanket in an invitation to her.

“Are you out of your mind? I can’t cuddle with you right now, I’ll freeze you!”

“Please, you deserve to be taken care of too.”

She crumbles at that, you can see the resolve leaving her face. And then she figures that you won’t get too cold with the heated blanket and everything.

She cuddles up next to you, wrapping her arms around your waist and ducking her head into your neck.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been there. And least of all I shouldn’t be such a mess right now.”

“It’s okay to be a mess, I’ll always be here to hold you.”

Carlisle:

No one really talks about the stress of being a pretend father for a bunch of eternal teenagers

Really, it’s a blessing that he doesn’t need sleep and isn’t affected by long hours

But despite that, he still gets so worn out

Today had been a long day for Carlisle.

It was student-teacher conference day. And while that’s not usually an issue since he always tells the kids to behave, Emmett decided it was necessary to punch a kid last week.

To be honest, Carlisle didn’t really care if the kid was a bully or not, all he viewed it as was something more drawing attention to them.

On top of that, the cattiness between Edward and Rosalie seemed to be especially bad today.

They were at each other’s throats for the better part of the day, and nothing would get them to separate.

At work, at least a dozen new patients showed up. A factory that was close by had a gas leak, very minor. None of the people were harmed at all, but many still insisted on going to the clinic.

Carlisle’s not one to discourage people from getting checked out, but he is one to tell people to go home when they’re fine, which everyone was.

But these people kept insisting something was wrong. A boy with a broken arm had to wait for three hours for a room to open up because the factory workers refused to leave.

By the time he got home, he was exhausted, you could tell. His eyes were heavy, as were his footsteps. His hair was disheveled, he had clearly been running his fingers through it all day from the stress.

He looked like a mess. But even then, he greeted you with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

He always takes such good care of you, whether you’re sick or not, he’s always there with whatever you want.

Now it’s your turn.

“Carlisle, are you busy?” You ask, peeking into his home office. Even after the super long day, he’s a man of habit.

“Not particularly,” he turns to look at you, setting his pen down, “why?”

“Follow me.”

You lead him to the bathroom, where a nice, warm back is drawn. Complete with lilac scented bath oil and two candles lit on the sink.

“The bath looks beautiful, darling. I’m sure the lavender will be great for your skin.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” you quip. All he does is raise an eyebrow. “It’s for you. I know you’ve had a long day, so go relax and meet me in the bedroom when you’re done.”

You don’t give him a chance to argue before you leave, shutting the door tightly behind you.

He emerges about 30 minutes later, still toweling his hair off.

“Ok now come on over here,” you pat the bed next to you, motioning him to sit there. Again, all he does is quirk and eyebrow but he obliges.

You take the remote to the TV in yours and Carlisle’s room, turning on his favorite movie. A classic one from the silent film era.

“But this… I haven’t seen this movie in years… how did you get it?”

“That’s the beauty of streaming platforms.”

You both sit in silence for a while, Carlisle seemingly happy to just watch his favorite movie after so long. Eventually, he turns to look at you with an inquisitive expression.

“So, what’s all this for?”

“What, am I not allowed to take care of you from time to time?”

He laughs slightly at that.

“A human taking care of a vampire, how twisted.”

You grab his face between your hands at that, drawing him close and looking deep into his yellow eyes.

“It’s not if I want to do it, and I would move the Earth for you.”

“Hopeless romantic,” and with that he kisses you.

Vampire! Bella:

She tends to… shut down

We all know how she was when she couldn’t be with Edward

That translates over

It really wasn’t supposed to be that big of a deal.

Your Spanish class was going to be taking a two week trip to Spain.

Only, Bella wasn’t in Spanish. This time around, she chose to take French. Which was all fine and good, until it meant that she couldn’t go with you.

Cue two weeks of endless calls and texts.

On the phone with you , she sounds fine. But from your calls with Alice, she’s not doing too hot.

She hasn’t been hunting since you’ve been gone, she’s completely stopped going to class, and she also hasn’t talked to anyone in the house.

It’s the last night of your trip, you’re in your hotel room, the girl you’re sharing with is sound asleep in the other bed, but you know one girl who’s never asleep.

You call Bella’s number, and she answers instantly, like she’s been waiting all day for you to call. In all honesty, she probably has.

“Hey, what are you up to?” You can hear the attempt to be nonchalant in her voice, but her eagerness gives her away.

“Oh nothing, I just got off the phone with Alice… wanna tell me why you didn’t leave our room today? Or yesterday? Or the day before?”

You can hear her pause on the line, like she’s trying to come up with a convincing lie, but eventually she sighs.

“I just… I’ve just been missing you a lot, is all. I want you here next to me, I feel incomplete without you.”

Yowch. Right through the heart.

You decide then to help in some way, you don’t know how immediately, but you have to do something.

So you start to hum.

Whenever you have a bad day, Bella hums the song her mom used to sing to her. You always ask her to, and even though she says she isn’t a great singer, she indulges you anyway.

Sometimes it’s the only thing that can stop you from a panic attack or calm you enough to go back to sleep after a nightmare.

You hear her gasp slightly before y he sound of sheets rustling, presumably her laying her head down.

You go through the whole song twice over, Bella never telling you to stop or joining you.

After your voice fades out and the line stays dead for a moment, you swear you can hear Bella overthinking.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I’m an apex predator. I shouldn’t be so upset whenever you leave for a little bit.”

You laugh lightly at that, and you can hear her scoff across the line.

“I don’t mind. Especially when it’s you. Bella, I love you and I would do anything for you.”

“Even if I’m a beautiful monster who was designed to kill you?”

“Even if you did kill me, I would hope that my blood nourishes you for months on end.”

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thewritersofdeceased · 7 months ago

Note

HELLOO!! Soooo I so love your Tbp content!! And This is my first time ever requesting anything, and I'm so excited for tbp 2 anyways enough of my rambling :>>

Can you please make a Vance x Reader, like for example Vance is like very into Reader but reader is terrified of him bc of his reputation and all yk? If that makes sense lol

Hey, hey! No worries about the rambling I love it! This was a blast to write!! (please anyone request more Vance stuff I love writing him so much)

Gender neutral pronouns !

Vance was in love.

That’s right. For once in his life, Vance Hopper was in love. It felt weird. He saw how this sort of stuff affected his parents, but he hoped this wouldn’t end up the same. His parents were a terrible duo. At least his father was. He worked with the law, and he was usually the one to show up and drag the blonde into the station. He always got annoyed. Not like Vance cared what his father thought. Let alone how many times he got dragged to the station.

No. Vance cared about what someone by the name of Y/N thought about him. That's who he was in love with. But Vance was a violent kid, a kid with a hot-temper and a couple records in the cops record book. The amount of fights he got into and the amount of times he got arrested because of them. Or the threat of charges. Now that was hell when ever a parent of a kid would threaten him with charges, let alone when it was Moose. He hated Moose. Moose was a bully, everyone knew this. Though he despised the man whenever he would go after Y/N. The amount of times those two fought and got sent to the principles office was crazy.

Way too many times could Vance recall that. But here he stood again, leaning against his locker and standing beside a couple boys. They were younger than him, he could see that. Vance was around fourteen, the oldest of the group. He was the one about to go to highschool whilst the others entered their separate grades. That was fine with him. The boys would still have connections to him, they didn't live that far and the middle school wasn't a far walk. So if any of them got hurt or in a fight, Vance could run to the middle school and help 'em. Until Billy finally hit his own Freshmen year. Griffin was the youngest, so of course it would take a bit of time for him to reach High-School.

But what if y/n and him went to different high schools? What if y/n's parents decided to leave Denver and go somewher else? A soft sigh escaped Vance as a voice to his right rang out. "C'mon, Vance. You have to talk to them sooner or later." The voice to the right of him was Bruce Yamada, the second oldest of the group. "Right. They're scared of me, dumbass." Vance commented, rolling his eyes as he leaned his head against the locker. It only stiffed a laugh out of Bruce, who raised his brow and gently nudged Vance's shoulder. Bruce knew why people were weary of the group, and it was all because of Vance's reputation. But he wasn't the one to speak up next, no. Griffin did. Even if the boy hardly spoke, being selective Mute. "It's your reputation, Vance." The youngest boy thought of the blonde like an older brother.

Which, Vance didn't mind. He would protect the youngest kid with his life. He'd protect any of these kids with his life, even if he died. Well, he didn't want to die, that was for sure. A sigh escaped him as his arms crossed. "Well, then I've gotta pick up my act, ain't I? If I want a chance with them?" This surprised the younger and second oldest. "You really plan on changing your ways, Vance?" Bruce asked as he stared at the blonde with messy hair. It'd be a challenge for the fighter. He knew that for sure. But he needed to change if he'd have a chance with Y/N. A low sigh escaped Vance as he crossed his arms and hummed. "I have to. I like 'em, you all know this." He reminded, trying to keep himself calm as he watched y/n interact with their friends.

This may take a while, but if he wanted to talk to them? He had to do it. He had to stop getting into fights, as bad as that would be. Specifically when it came to Moose. Or Buzz and Matt, and even Matty. He was a fighter, but he'd stop for his crush. Lower his reputation one way or another.

#Vance Hopper x reader #Vance hopper #tbp x reader #the black phone imagines

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aticklishpercivalwriter · 7 months ago

Text

My Honey ♡ My Bee (fic)

For Artists Who See Their Art on My Fics Link to Art: (credits go to @munchr00m (elaine !) on Twitter!): Sethos/Scaramouche

—

Summary: Wanderer and Sethos hang out, but Scara’s thoughts and uncertainty about their dynamic in the future end up eating at him. Sethos reassures him through convincing means.

A/N: SethoScara!! These two have me in a chokehold and the art and fanfics for these two are amazing. And here is my contribution :) Inspiration for this fic comes from this post. I did my best to retain Scara’s bratty attitude, but I also wanted to show a softer and vulnerable side to him. So, I’m sorry if Scaramouche seems OOC to you all. With that being said, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

P.S. There is a small scene that might be slightly NSFW to some, you’ll see it when you get to it, so you can skip the section until you don’t see any of the stuff you don’t want to see. Can’t reveal too much for spoilers. If anyone’s interested in me writing a smut fic (would be my first!) for these two, let me know! I’ll leave a poll :)

Word Count: 1965 Also on AO3!

—

The sky was a mix of red and orange hues as the sun set over the horizon. At the base of a tree outside of Sumeru City sat Wanderer and Sethos. The two of them have grown to like each other’s presence and made the tree their special spot to be with one another.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sethos spoke.

“You have poor taste in beauty,” Scaramouche answered, making Sethos chuckle. “That wasn’t supposed to be funny.”

“Hehe, I know. I never get tired of your responses.”

“Hmph, weirdo.”

A comforting silence settled afterward before Scaramouche spoke again.

“Why…Why do you keep putting up with me?”

The seriousness in his tone made Sethos look at him with concern.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a nobody. Someone who tried to become a god. A puppet that was thrown away because they were useless. One that makes mean and snarky comments. Why? Why do you want to be with someone like me?”

A surprised look crossed Sethos’s face.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I like being with you.”

Scara’s eyes widened as Sethos continued.

“I was curious about your mysterious past and kept pestering you until you told me. When you did, I didn’t turn away disgusted or begin to hate you. All it did was make me want to be with you even more.”

Conflicting emotions and uncertainty ran through Wanderer's eyes before they were stopped by a hand on his cheek.

“You dare-” Scara started, making a move to swat Sethos’s hand away before Sethos started stroking his cheek with his thumb. He went quiet as he made eye contact with Sethos who had an endearing expression on his face.

“I'll take care of you.”

I'll take care of you.

A flicker of light is shown behind Wanderer’s eyes upon hearing those words. But as quick as it came, his eyes darkened with uncertainty.

“It's rotten work.”

“Not to me.”

Surprised, stormy eyes met determined, loving ones.

“Not if it's you.”

Those words were an arrow to his heart as tears from decades of sadness, anger, and hurt threatened to fall. The world seemed to blur around him as his senses were solely focused on the man in front of him.

“The things you mentioned are in the past. It's time for you to move on and not let them plague your mind.”

Sethos leaned closer, accidentally making Scara’s hat fall off his head. The latter could hardly care as he felt Sethos comb his fingers through his hair and his breath on his face. Not to mention the soft lips that were barely a millimeter from his own.

“You aren't useless, Scara.”

Sethos’s warm breath hit him in the face as he spoke.

“You aren't a nobody either. Since our first interaction with one another, I was obsessed with you. Your hat. Your past. Your attitude. But most importantly, what hid behind those stormy eyes of yours. And the more I got to learn about you, I began falling for you. I wanted you. I liked you. I love being with you. Your sassy attitude, you calling me a busy bee, I cherished those moments. In my eyes, you are the perfect being and you have a place in my heart. I will go to the ends of the world to fight with you. To be with you. To…love you.”

Sethos pushed forward, softly planting his lips on Wanderer’s. He melted into the kiss, kissing back with fervor as Sethos took the lead.

“Sethohh- mmm~”

Sethos smiled into Scara’s mouth, taking pride in making him fall apart. Taking it a step further, he licked his lips asking for entrance. When he met no resistance and instead Wanderer parted his lips, he dove right in.

“Se- mmph! Mmhmm~”

“Mmm~”

Sethos sucked his tongue, making him roll his eyes in ecstasy as he tangled his fingers in Sethos's hair. Sethos deepened the kiss, gently pushing his back to the ground.

“S- ahh! Mmm~ Aah! Mmphahh~”

“Mmochi~ Hah! Scaraah~ Mmm~ You have hah~ too many ngh~ na- aah~ names~”

They continued their make-out session, drowning in each other's embrace and letting out their feelings for one another.

They broke for breath after some time. Sethos towering over Wanderer with his arms on both sides of his head and the latter laying his head back on the grass looking up at Sethos. His face was flushed, complimenting the pink and orange hues of the sky and Scara couldn't help but reach out a hand towards his cheek, caressing him.

“Beautiful,” he breathed out.

A red tint started to spread to Sethos's ears and a shy smile started to form.

“M-Me?”

“snort. Yes, you.”

He wrapped his arms around Sethos, bringing him down to his chest.

“I hate how you make me feel so mushy inside."

There's no bite behind those words. Instead, love and affection.

“It's my job now, honey~”

“Argh, Sethos.”

“What? You call me a bee, I call you honey. Plus, you are so sweet-”

“I am not sweet.”

“Yes, you are. Especially your taste. Sweet like honey. No wonder I am a bee that is so attracted to you~”

Scara just groaned, his face flushed red. “Where did you even learn to kiss like that?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, that. Heh,” Sethos rubbed the back of his head, rolling off him and laying beside him.

“You know how they say the quiet ones are the interesting ones? I'm far from being quiet, but since being in the Temple of Silence, I tend to be alone in my thoughts a lot and my imagination runs wild. And when I first laid my eyes on you, I never stopped thinking what it would be like to kiss those lips of yours.”

Wanderer’s heart fluttered in his chest, knowing that Sethos was thinking of him from the first time they met.

“And how did it feel?” he asked, turning to him.

“We both know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Sethos chuckled, facing him. “Alright, if you really want to hear it. It was the most amazing feeling in the world. The moment just felt right. When our lips touched, a pleasant tingling sensation traveled down my spine. Having your lips locked on mine, it just felt like we were meant to be together. Oh! Your moans. Don’t get me started on your moans. They were sweet as hon-”

“Okay, you are just teasing and trying to make me flustered.”

“Maybe~ Is it working?”

“Not even.”

“You sure about that? What's that reddening on your ears?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“What do you think?”

“Oh, you are asking for it, annoying bee.”

“I'll like to see you- ack! Ahahaha! T-Tihihickling is cheheating!”

Scaramouche smirked, hearing his giggles as he tased his sides with ease. “Aw. Sucks to be you then~”

“Wahahait! Nohohoho fahahair!”

Scara draped himself over Sethos, lazily tracing random patterns from his shoulder blades to his neck to his chest and back again.

“Doesn't take much for me to make you giggle, little bee.”

“Hahahaha! Mohohochihi! Gehehet off mehehehe!” Sethos tried to roll around to no avail.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” Scara put on a fake thinking face for a few moments before he began to knead Sethos’s hips making him choke on a surprised laugh. “Nah.” A smug look crossed his face. “I want to do this all day~”

“GAhahaha! Nohohoho! You ahahare- NAHAHAHA! Nohot thahat SPOHOHOT!”

Sethos shrieked as his lover dug his fingers into his armpits causing him to clamp them down.

“You are losing, my love~” Wanderer teased, rubbing deep circles into his lover's armpits causing him to howl with laughter.

“AHAHAHA! HOHOHONEY! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHOHO BAHAHAD!”

“Oh really? Here, let me help. Tickle tickle tickle~”

“THAHAHAT’S NOHOHOT HEHELPING! YOU’RE MAHAHAKING IHIHIT WOHORSE!”

“How about this? Coochie coochie coo~”

“STAHAHAP TEHEHEASING MEHEHEHE! AHAHAHA!”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Scara said, playing dumb.

“YOHUHU LIAHAHAR! YOU- GAHAHAHA! NOHOHO!”

Sethos squealed as Scara used his thumb to massage his upper ribs.

“PLEheaSE ScahahARA!”

“Oh, my ticklish, little bee. Begging already? We are barely getting started~”

He decided to have a little mercy on Sethos, slowing down, so he could take a breather.

“Thahank youhuhu,” he giggled out.

“I’ll tell you what,” Scara started. “If you don’t laugh for 5 minutes straight, you win the challenge and get to tickle me to your heart’s content. If you lose, get ready to be tickled without mercy.”

“Pfft, 5 minutes. I can handle that. Challenge accepted!”

Wanderer inwardly grinned, his scheme working as he kissed Sethos with passion. Being caught off guard, Sethos quickly recovered, returning the kiss, unaware of the one hand that was inching closer and closer to his side until-

“MMPHAHAHA!”

Perfect.

“Noho! Youhuhu caught mehe off guahard!”

“I win~” Scara cheekily said. “Seems like that was your best… what a pity.”

“You planned that from the start!” Sethos pouted.

He stuck his tongue out towards Sethos. “Bleh, I win and that is all that matters. Come here and give me my prize.”

He lunged toward Sethos, leaving him no time to escape before he crawled his fingers under his clothes and attacked his tummy.

“I’ll geHEt yOUhu bahACK! AhAHAhAha!”

“Keep on dreaming little bee~”

After what felt like an eternity to Sethos of Wanderer skittering his fingers along his sensitive spots and teasing him to oblivion, his lover let up, lying right beside him.

“Mouchehe, you’re a ruhuthlehess tihickler.”

“Heh, that means that I’m still good at it or you are just too ticklish for your own good, or maybe both.”

“Scaraaa.”

They both fell into a peaceful silence as they stared up at the now starry sky, enjoying each other’s presence.

“Sethos?” Wanderer’s voice was soft when he spoke his name.

“Hmm?”

“Your words from before, I wanted to hear someone say those words to me for so long.”

“Which ones? You being sweet?” Sethos teased.

“Sethos,” Scara groaned. “I’m trying to be vulnerable here.”

“Hehe. Sorry sorry,” he chuckled, turning towards him and hugging him.

“I’m talking about when you told me you’d take care of me,” Scaramouche continued, snuggling into his embrace. “How it’s not rotten work to you and how you love me.”

He took a breath before continuing.

“It's all I ever wanted. Someone to say those words to me.”

A shooting star raced through the sky, lighting up his eyes. Sethos saw hope and a new spark of life in those mesmerizing eyes of his.

“I know I’m a bratty character and that’ll probably never go away, but I love you. I truly love you, even if I don’t show it at times. And…and I’ll go to the ends of the world for you too.”

Sethos could see the tips of his ears reddening and he inwardly grinned at how cute he was before going in for a quick peck on the cheek.

“Mochi, I love you so much. You are so freakin cute right now. But in all seriousness, I’m happy that you are in my life and I can’t wait to spend all of it with you. My sweet, honey love.”

“Archons, you are going to be the death of me you mushy bee.”

Sethos brought their lips together for a slow and soft kiss. Knocking their foreheads softly together, both of them stared into each other’s eyes, enjoying the moment before pulling away. Sethos was the first to stand up, grinning from ear to ear. Wanderer shook his head in amusement, picking up his hat and setting it atop his head before reaching out towards his lover’s outstretched hand. They started their way back into the city, hand in hand with fingers entwined.

My Honey.

My Bee.

—

Thank you for reading! :) -Perz ~Risus Amoris~

More questions are in the Google Form if you want to provide more feedback. Plus, the question for a potential smut fic. Thank you again for reading and your time :)

Link to Google Form

#tickling #genshin impact #lee!sethos #ler!scaramocuhe #ler!scara #tickle fic #sethoscara #scaramouche #wanderer #sethos #genshin impact tickling #genshin impact tickle #genshin tickle #genshin tickling #percival fics #sethos x scaramouche #wanderer x sethos

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gutterfuuck · 8 months ago

Note

Can I request a mark drabble w/ breeding kink 👉👈 I'd love either bff mark or sinister mark but if you go the sinister route can I be a bit of a coward and ask that he be a little. Softer. Maybe specifically for the reader bc I am a little pansy and I get unrealistically offended when I'm condescended or treated like property, and while it would be hot if this man talked down to me I would also be inclined to punch him in the baby maker and then we'd all suffer bc no smut would ensue 😭

Sorry, I just dumped a bit of unwarranted baggage on u there but you come off as really sweet in all your posts so I hope it didn't bother you too much! Thank you for all of your posts btw your writing is delicious! Also your English is very good, you have a great grasp of the language and I respect and appreciate all the effort you must put into making all of your writing so articulate. English especially is said to be very hard to learn so I immensely respect the effort that goes into it, regardless of any/how much help you require/accept to do so. Manifesting a mild inconvenience to that anon a while back who accused you of faking for some reason I hope they step on a wet kitchen tile while wearing socks or something and rethink how they choose to speak to people online. 😊♡

hello anon!! thank you so much for your considerations, maybe it is because i am emotional since i get very choked up when it is birthday season but this had made me cry happy tears 😭😭 also, i agree!! if anyone was to talk to me like i am disposable in real life, i think that i would break down and disintegrate haha!! it is not cowardly to ask for things, do not be swayed!! baggage is never unwanted here, i am the baggage 😂!! i will do the upmost of my best ability, as i have been waiting to write for s!mark again 🤭🤭 also, i do agree people should be more mindful about what they say to others! you never know what anyone is going through, just because you can hide behind a screen mask doesn’t mean you should or can be mean to people!! i do not judge those who do though, they will learn as months and years pass, people do learn and change!!

cw: mdni, smut, breeding kink, just a little drable to warm up my fingers hehe!! minor injury, reader patches him up

you could hear your husband come crashing through the juliet balcony of your bedroom, bumping into the bed and waking you up fully. you bolted up, scanning the darkness of the room and staring at the silhouette of your lover, crouched over in the shadows. “mark?” you peep, eyes still adjusting as you clicked on the bedside lamp, your eyes instantly closing when the brightness took you by surprise.

he looks back at you, pulling his mask with its flimsy broken black goggles off of his face and discarding it to the floor with a heavy sigh. mark always found it so cute how you’d gasp with your hands flying to cover your mouth when he returned with an injury, your worried eyes looking him over as you jump out from under the covers, hands flying up to cover his cheeks and observe his cut nose bridge, one of his eyes squinted due to the budding bruise on his upper cheekbone, “gonna nurse me back to health, baby?” he asks, smiling down at you and placing a kiss to your forehead. he listens to you lecture him about being careful when visiting other planets, rolling his eyes like he’d really just die like that. you knew he was tough, but it didn’t hurt to be concerned.

he sits on the side of the bathtub in the bathroom, tilting his face to the side so you could rub his injuries down with antiseptic solution, mumbling something about how he was still half human so he still had to be a little careful. he didn’t know how many times he’d had to tell you that even though he was still half human everything else was 100% brutal alien. each time he told you, you ignored it. maybe you liked patching him up, placing cute bandages on his face to stop his bleeding. he was hardly injured but he’d be damned if he didn’t let his cute little wife dote on him like this, the sleeves of your fluffy gown he’d bought home for you rolled up your arms as you fiddle with the first aid kit.

“y’know what’d me me feel better?” mark says, taking your hands into his. god, he could just crush you right now, you were so adorable. you hum in response, intertwining your fingers with his as he brings them to his lips, trailing kisses up your arm and pulling you closer, inching towards you slowly. your mouth hangs open with a breathless silent mewl as his lips stop just by your jawline, finding it hard to hold himself back from nipping your skin and marking you up. you nod at his earlier question which draws a chuckle from him, hands moving down to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, “let’s go to bed, then.”

you’ve got your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto his back as he pistoned his hips in and out of your tight heat, never being shameful of your moans. music to his ears, he thought, letting you cry out so desperately into the night. if you had neighbours you’re sure they’d complain. he groaned when he felt you clench around him, muscled thighs stuttering for a moment as you suffocated his cock within your walls. “oh, babygirl-“ he tilts his head back, holding you firmly as your legs wrap around his waist, practically bouncing you up and down on his dick himself, “m-mark..-!” you squeal, voice raspy and throat dry when you feel him buck up into your g-spot, weeping head poking at it repeatedly, trying to pull your orgasm out of you. you whine loudly, holding onto him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

“shhh, s’okay, hold onto me like that, there we go.” mark comforts you, such a strange comparison from when he’s out causing mayhem to now. if those who opposed him were to see him right now, they’d think he’d be a different person. he was so soft with you, treated you like you were made of porcelain and you loved it. you were glad that you’d somehow tamed him in a way, molded him into your perfect husband as he made you into his perfect wife. domestic bliss.

you stifle your noises with his shoulder, softly biting on it as he snapped his hips up into yours vigorously, his own orgasm approaching hard and fast. you could feel the way his cock throbbed inside of you, the way he slowed his hips a little before trying to keep up his pace. “so tight, always so perfect n’ tight f’me, aren’t you?” you nod brainlessly into his shoulder and he coos at you, eyebrows furrowed together as he gasps lightly.

“i’m gonna cum, princess.” he says breathlessly, humping against you for his own orgasm, “inside…” you whisper to him and he almost loses it right there, almost falls over when he thinks about the implications it might have. “inside? yeah-fuck, gonna let me cum inside, just for me?” mark pants, pussydrunk figure caging you in under him as he chases his orgasm, “gimme a kid… f-fuck, gimme a baby, wanna make you a mama… g’na look so perfect— fuh-uck..!” he babbles, vision blanking as he cums inside of you, wave after wave of his warm seed spilling into your cunt, seeping into your womb. he canted his hips a few more times, almost fucking himself into overstimulation as he continued talking, “..gonna give me a mini me, huh? complete our little family?” he asks as you nod in agreement, too fucked out to even process what he’d said to you just now.

#💬 sparkie is typing…#mark grayson x reader #dark blog #mark grayson smut #invincible x reader #invincible smut #sinister!mark

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bumblesimagines · 6 months ago

Text

Gold and Green

Request: Yes or No

Summary: To further secure the Lannisters to the Green's side, Otto Hightower arranges a marriage between his grandson, Aemond Targaryen, and the Lannister twins younger sister.

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, arranged marriage trope, mentions of Targcest/incest, mentions of Luke's death, kinda short i wasn't sure what to do with this guy, fluff?

Took my time getting to this mf

~~~

Aemond hardly knew what to make of marriage life.

He knew what one was expected to do as a couple: attend formal events, ensure both houses prevailed, and have many, many children to continue the bloodline. But, as he came to learn, he had little idea what to do outside of expectations.

No amount of histories or studying or even reading childish romantic tales told him how to be a husband, and he hardly had anyone to model what a proper and good lord-husband was supposed to look like. His father had hardly cared for his mother and his brother barely paid Helaena any attention outside of awkward, forced interactions.

Aemond found it infuriating, simply put. He mastered everything he put his mind to. He'd claimed the biggest dragon in the world as a mere boy; lost an eye and replaced it with a sapphire; excelled in swordsmanship and combat; perfected the art of speaking, writing, and understanding High Valryian; studied the histories and listened to the septas dutifully to the point he could recall any tale down to the smallest of details. The perfect heir, if he had to be honest, but hardly anything that'd help him be a good husband. He refused to be like Aegon, refused to allow himself to steep down to his brother's level of indifference toward his sister-wife.

His dear mother had been little help, merely telling him to 'be a kind and dutiful husband' when he questioned her, but he understood why she herself would have little experience knowing what a husband should look like. His grandsire simply told him to hurry and consummate the marriage once his wife's monthly blood had finished, to court her with gifts and such if he so wished.

So, he gave his grandsire's advice a try and searched for a necklace befitting for a lioness of the west.

"Wife," Aemond instinctively called into their shared bedchambers as he stepped inside, his single eye searching the room as the door slid shut behind him until he noticed her sitting on one of the couches. She looked beautiful, clad in the gold and red colors of House Lannister. He'd much prefer her in green but he hardly found it appropriate to push the subject when they barely spoke. Her handmaidens curtsied upon seeing him before resuming their tasks.

"Husband." (Y/N) responded in greeting, her tone somewhat monotone and attention largely focused on her embroidery. He understood why she and Helaena got along so easily, perhaps he should've inquired his sister instead. "How was your day, My Lord?"

"Busy, as always. War is on the horizon, I fear." He tried not to think about Lucerys, or the memory of watching bits and pieces of Arrax descend into the ocean. He'd meant to frighten him, humiliate him as he and his brother had done to him years prior, but he'd forgotten Vhagar wasn't a mere mindless creature nor a weapon he could control. She followed his orders because she wanted to, not because she had to.

"Wasn't it always?" She asked, though it wasn't a question meant to be answered. A masked statement to avoid offending him. He knew what the courtiers whispered behind his back since his return from Storm's End. Kinslayer. A title spat and whispered with disdain because who would be cruel enough to kill their own blood?

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose and peered over her shoulder when a handmaiden poured steaming water into the tub. She stood up, handing her embroidery off to one dutiful handmaiden and smoothing out her dress with her hands. She stepped around the couch and strode toward her desk, her fingers raising to remove her earrings and set them aside. Her eyes flickered to his reflection in the mirror as he strode toward her, gently setting the silver box on the desk.

"For you, My Lady." He murmured and took a step back, clasping his hands behind his back and watching her eye the box. (Y/N) opened it and hummed, trailing her finger over the necklace within. Gold, to resemble House Lannister, with a glimmering emerald in the center to resemble House Hightower. The union of their two houses, of their blood. "I hope it is to your liking."

"It is quite beautiful, Husband. Thank you." She told him, unclipping the necklace around her neck and setting it down. His wife studied the gift, her eyes lingering on it for a moment longer before she turned toward her handmaidens and dismissed them with a wave of her hand. They finished their task swiftly and curtsied deeply before leaving the room. Aemond couldn't help but tilt his head. His wife still needed to prepare for the night.

"Wife-"

"Help me undress, Husband." (Y/N) told him, striding toward the tub and casting a glance over her shoulder at him. Aemond followed silently and reached forward, carefully undoing the laces of her dress and helping her slide it off her body. His eye jumped away, out of respect and instinct but he forced himself to look back. She was his wife, after all.

Offering her his hand, he held hers as she stepped into the tub and lowered down into the warm water, a hum of contentment escaping her. Aemond took a seat on the stool by the tug, his long fingers curling around a soapy rag and beginning to gingerly rub it along her shoulders.

Her lips curled upward, her eyes following his movements before they trailed up his arm and to his face. He paused when her hand raised from the edge of the tub, stiffening when she tugged the eyepatch away to reveal the sapphire in place of his missing eye.

"You needn't wear this around me, Husband." She told him, placing the eyepatch in the palm of his free hand. "I am not a silly little girl like some of the ladies here. I do not frighten easily."

His own lips curled at that, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He expected such an attitude from a Lannister, although her older brother, Tyland, hardly gave the same impression as her. He shrunk back easily when challenged during meetings and had the attitude of a cub over a lion. "I shall like to introduce you to Vhagar then, Wife." Aemond ran the rag along the underside of her arm, slowly lifting it until he could brush his lips over her knuckles.

"I'm certain we'll get along." (Y/N) responded, her hand turning over to cup Aemond's chin. He leaned into her touch and savored it, for he hadn't received such a gentle caress since the death of his nephew. His mother had shrunk back from him, whether from fear or disgust of what he'd done. No mother would find the news of her child getting their hands bloody appealing. He had to give her time to adjust.

Aemond smiled against her skin. "Yes, I believe so as well." He agreed, feeling her palm slide against his jawline and cheek. Her thumb brushed over the scar thoughtfully, not a glimmer of disgust on her face.

She'd make a lovely queen, he noted. They'd make a lovely ruling couple, far better than his older siblings and even his parents. If only he'd allowed Aegon to escape when he had the chance.

"I believe we ought to consummate the marriage soon, Husband." The light teasing tone in her voice made him grin.

"Yes, we should. Perhaps... tonight."

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bratbarzal · 21 days ago

Text

Let It Happen (LH43) 3/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE< / >PART TWO<

I'll spare you from everything, if you would still have me, I'll be waiting all my life

General Warnings: pining and longing and fluff galore!!! I think maybe sexual references but who remembers atp. angst (slut shaming, mentions of past relationships and I can't think of a better way to say daddy issues we've all been there)

A/N: we did it, Joe!!!! desktop tumblr really didn't want this to happen!!! I can't believe I finished this!! thank you guys so much for reading, and liking, and messaging me and reblogging and all the commentary, and all the love!!! I appreciate it so much!!

if there is a crossover of readers of on your side and readers of this fic (first of all ily) there is a little oys easter egg in here!! did I think through the logistics of this being set in the same universe? no. did I have fun anyway? yes. I fell in love with writing Luke in that fic so it was only right for me to add it in here!!

Happy New Year to everyone, thank you for reading my work!! 2024 was the year I finally plucked up the courage to write all my random thoughts down and the fact that it spiralled into this blows my mind a bit, but I'm grateful to be here!!

You can distinctly remember the first time you had properly taken notice of Luke Hughes, and it wasn’t back in the restaurant at the club like he probably thinks.

It had been early November, in your freshman year.

Ellie had finally convinced you to join her at one of the games at Yost, and you were bundled up in a coat two sizes too big, the only thing you had remotely close to team colours, and the only thing likely to keep you warm enough to tolerate a whole game and warm-ups.

You were watching the boys skate around, and he had caught your eye in an instant.

“Who’s that one?” You had asked, pointing down to where number 43 was reaching out awkwardly to sweep up pucks with his stick. You could see the soft brown curls peaking out the back of his helmet from all the way in the stands, and his height made it unmistakable to realise that you recognised him.

He had come up to you at a Halloween party the week before, and if you hadn’t been so preoccupied by the fact that your only-just-ex boyfriend at the time was in the same room, his tongue down another girl’s throat, you might have been endeared by the boy in the dog costume.

Friendly smile, boyishly handsome features and warm eyes that under any other circumstances might have made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him - you vaguely remembered the gift basket, and you knew he was in a couple of your classes, but you had never really spared him more than a fleeting glance before that party.

As soon as he had noticed your teary eyes upon approach, his demeanour had changed in an instant, and where anyone else might have backed off, might have been uncomfortable or deterred, done a u-turn and given up on his mission to approach, his expression had softened - worried and caring in a way that made your throat go dry, and you had to dash off to the nearest bathroom to splash your tears away.

“That’s Luke,” Ellie had told you, “Luke Hughes, Jack’s brother.”

“Oh,” You had pouted, disappointed. Jack had made it painfully obvious that he wasn’t your biggest fan the first time you had met him, and if you’re honest, you were hardly a great admirer of his, either.

Ellie had noticed your expression, had nudged you with her elbow until you took your eyes off of the figure on the ice, and had narrowed her eyes right at you. “Why?”

“He’s in a couple of my classes, is all,” you shrugged, eyes travelling back and finding him in an instant.

“Luke’s cool. You’d eat him alive, though, probably get bored within a week.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him like that,” you frowned, watching him skate around the ice with the grace and enthusiasm of a clumsy puppy dog. Cute. “Just curious.”

“He’s waaaay too nice for you,” she scoffed, and you had tried to swallow down the pang of offence you had felt, knowing she had very little of your past to compare him to. The two of you had only been roommates for a couple of months at that point, and she had only ever seen you interested in your ex. “He’s also kind of a like a little brother to me. Dorky and annoying, but I’m very protective of him.”

You had bit your tongue at how patronising that had sounded, knowing Ellie was one of the youngest people of your freshman class - a July baby - and Luke might even have been older than her.

“Like I said, just curious.”

You had noticed Luke a lot more after that, though.

A quiet, recurring presence.

A seat behind you in business comms, a figure against the wall in the corner of the room at different parties, on posters that lined the walls and the perimeter of Yost Arena, in articles you edited for extra credit in the Michigan Daily.

You had even made small efforts to get him to talk to you - never being the type to make the first move, yourself - started talking to his friends, some of the guys on the hockey team, had made sure his name was on the list for your sorority parties, you’d even dropped your pen once in class, and he’d just handed it back over with a soft smile, never uttering a word.

You wouldn’t call it a crush, but it was somewhere around the borderline of that - especially looking back after the summer you shared with him.

And you think, in retrospect, that if he’d have ever made a move, would have spoken to you even just once after the incident at the Halloween party, you probably would have developed one.

You hate to admit it, now, but he had been right all those weeks ago in the restaurant.

He’s kind of inevitable like that.

By the time he disappeared in your sophomore year that little spark of something had mostly fizzled out, but it didn’t entirely stop you unintentionally keeping tabs. Stats that cropped up on the sports channels, articles in the paper, posts on your instagram feed.

And you don’t know what you would call it, the way he kind of stuck with you, but when you’d seen him in that booth in the beginning of summer - when he’d spoken to you in full sentences, had met your eye and held contact in a way that sucked you in like a vacuum - you kind of felt that spark reignite.

The boy you almost, kind of, could have known, once upon a time, finally making the effort to get to know you.

And Luke Hughes is persistent. You have a detached admiration for just how much. He pushes, and he presses, and he perseveres until all your resolve is gone - resolve you’ve spent years mastering, with quick wit and snark protecting your heart from anyone who dares to take aim for it.

But that detachment is waining.

Especially as you lay on your front on your childhood bed, the NHL awards playing on the TV in your room back at your mom’s house, and you try to busy your hands with the crotchet kit you had picked up from the mall before you came home for a couple of days.

Your admiration is blooming and blossoming in the depths of your stomach into something intricate and uncontrollable.

And it has nothing to do with his name, his career, the award he is nominated for.

It’s just him.

Larger than life on your TV screen, but it still doesn’t capture him in his entirety, and you think for the first time that you miss him. You miss movies in his bed, you miss watching him from the passenger seat of his BMW, the sun shining from the window beside him, illuminating his profile until you burn from the glare. You miss his stupid jokes and his teasing smiles, and you miss the warmth in your cheeks when he looks your way.

And it’s only been like 2 days.

You miss Luke Hughes.

You kind of think you missed him before he even left.

You might have even missed him before you knew him, but that would be crazy, right?

Maybe he makes you crazy.

Maybe you need this week to recuperate, to attempt to build those walls back up before they’re damaged beyond repair.

Luke hadn’t given much thought to missing you before he and his brothers left for Vegas. He’d been so caught up, internally, about his and Quinn’s nominations, that he had thought it would continue to distract him the whole time they had been out there, but boy was he wrong.

All he remembers about his trip is thinking of you, and when the boys got back, and you had been visiting your mom for the weekend, all he could do was think of you more.

He thought of you when they sat at the table for dinner, and your place across from his was empty. He thought of you when he watched movies alone, thought of texting you some sort of commentary as he worked his way through the list of rom-coms you had given him, but you hadn’t texted him yet, so he gave up quickly on that idea.

He thought of you in bed, thought of the last time the two of you had been in there, together, and if he’s honest, he thinks of that almost all the time. Of messy kisses, wandering hands, and connection so deep he doesn’t think it will ever fizzle out.

And when he finally sees you again, he thinks he might have to get Quinn to source some sort of defibrillator for the house, because he swears his heart stops beating.

You poke your head into his bedroom, a shy smile on your face, and your bag is still on your shoulder, which means he had been your first stop, before you’d even gone to drop your things in yours and Ellie’s room.

He sees you in the reflection of his mirror, and turns immediately, clumsy fingers releasing the tie he’s been struggling to get right for a couple minutes, and steps toward you before he can even begin to tell himself not to seem so eager.

“You’re back!” He grins, and when your face lights up in return, he can hardly find it in himself to care anymore how down bad he comes across.

“Yeah,” you breathe, stepping into the room, discarding your bag by the door and shuffling toward him. “You didn’t have get all dolled up for my return.”

You reach to take both sides of the tie into your hands, and he feels himself go warm all over at the mere proximity of you after so long apart.

“It’s my cousin’s wedding,” he tells you as you start to knot the tie, knuckles brushing slightly across his chest until he’s holding his breath, lungs expanding so that he feels your touch a little more. “They’re having their reception at the club, later, you should come down.”

“You’re asking me to your cousin’s wedding?”

“Not like that,” he chuckles nervously as he looks down at you, eyes focused on the task at hand. “Just, haven’t seen you in a week, wouldn’t want to leave you here alone, it could be fun.”

Not to mention the fact he’s been watching the door for the past two days while he’s been home, waiting for you to get back and hoping it would be before the event, and he could figure out some way to ask you.

“You can’t just invite a random person to your cousin’s wedding reception, Luke.”

“She said I could!” He reasons, frowning when you raise a brow at him. “Not a random person, she said I could bring a friend.” He grasps gently at your hands as they straighten the fabric, halting your movements. “We’re friends, right?”

“If you say so.”

That wasn’t a no, he thinks, courage building within him in such a way that he starts to buzz with it. That would definitely have been a flat out no, before.

“You’d be doing me a favour.” He bargains, still holding your hands against his chest. “Quinn and Jack are bringing Josh and Turcs, I’d be like a fifth wheel,”

“So what you’re telling me is that you have no other friends?”

“Sure, if that’s what tugs at your heartstrings.” He has plenty of friends he could ask. Eddy, Duker, Luca - they’re all in town. None of them would look as pretty in a dress as you would, though. He wants to say there’s no chance of any of them kissing him after a few cocktails, but that would probably be a lie. “C’mon, they’re not gonna be checking IDs at the bar,” he wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to convince you, “The free bar.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a wedding,”

“What about that blue dress you wore to the formal last year?”

He remembers his throat going dry at just a picture - frosty baby blue silk against glowing skin, hair falling past your shoulders, the prettiest smile he’s ever seen in every photo.

And that is where misplaced courage gets him, he thinks. Letting slip that he has been creeping on your Instagram like some deranged stalker, because where else would he have seen you in that dress? He’d been in Jersey, by then. Scrolling down his timeline and swiping at every photo dump in what he didn’t even realise at the time was an obvious attempt to catch a glimpse of you.

Idiot.

“That was Ellie’s dress. I think she gave it to the Goodwill or something.” You frown, barely even picking up on his slip - unaware to the point that his heart rate can level back out to normalcy.

“You’ve got time to go shopping, you could get another,” he shrugs, reaching into the pocket of his pants. “Here, take my card.”

“Gee, thanks, Daddy Warbucks,” you push at his hand when he attempts to give it to you.

“I’m not adopting you. I’m more like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.”

“Are you implying I’m a prostitute?”

“No,” he scoffs, only because, unintentionally, he totally was, and now he can’t get the picture out of his head - you in thigh high boots, legs for days stood out of the blue skirt, and the white top with the cutouts, soft summer skin he’s been missing the touch of peaking through - and he starts to wonder if that would be too much too soon to ask of you; to dress up for him like that. Maybe for halloween, if the two of you have progressed past whatever this is, by then. Keep dreaming, Hughes, he can already hear you saying. “More like a sugar baby.”

“I don’t need your money.”

“I’m trying to do something nice for you.”

“You don’t have to buy me things for me to like you.” You pout, and his own lips curl up at your defensiveness - so eager to prove yourself to him over something he isn’t even actually pressing.

“Because you like me already?” He can’t help himself, a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to push, push, push at your buttons until you practically malfunction - craving you in whatever disoriented state it was that he had seen you in last, pliant and willing and crumbling so nicely for him to scoop up and piece back together. “Because you missed me?”

He shouldn’t want that - want to have to hold you in place, that is, not really - but he does. He wants to be the one that gets you like that. The only one.

“What time’s the reception?”

That should also have been a flat out no.

Interesting.

You give in so easily, then, to the point where Luke gets giddy, letting you know when and where he wants you - always and anywhere, if he’s honest - and you roll your eyes as you agree, but you stay right in front of him long after you’ve finished with his tie, and he’s so tempted to kiss you that he’s buzzing with excitement.

He sneaks a kiss to the corner of your mouth - quick enough that you don’t push him away, or make any sort of comment about it, and darts down the stairs at Quinn’s calls for him, leaving you to figure out whatever it is you need to do to be ready for later.

And he thanks his lucky stars that later comes before he has the chance to really dwell on it. His day passes in a blur, the ceremony over in a flash, family photos taken before he even realises he doesn’t need to force a cheesy smile, and only brief moments spared over the course of the early afternoon to think about the things he’s lacking.

As he sits in the church between his brothers, he realises that he wants to be sitting with an arm slung around you and a hand in your lap - your fingers swirling absentminded shapes into his palm as the two of you watch the ceremony side by side. Wants to look down at you staring up the aisle in bewilderment, a soft flush to your cheeks, a dopey grin on your face and a far-off look in your eyes. Wants to mutter stupid jokes in your ear and watch you twist your lips to bite back a giveaway smile.

As he rides over to the club in the back of Quinn’s car, sandwiched between Alex and Josh with his brothers up front, he thinks he’d kill to have you in his lap - as illegal as that may be, but it’s only 5 minutes, and he’d make sure you were safe with an arm curled around your waist.

And when he’s waiting in the reception hall at the club, the late afternoon ticking into early evening, hearing speeches about falling in love and finding your person, he wants you in the seat beside him. Wants to rest his arm on the back of your chair, play with loose strands of your hair or stroke soft fingertips against your warm skin, and press gentle kisses into your temple.

It’s alarming how quick these thoughts consume him - his college years spent pining, his summer spent basking in whatever attention you choose to give him - and he can’t help but let himself be carried away with the hope of it all, that maybe he is wearing you down enough to give in to such thoughts.

Especially when he sees you walking in, and he swears the world has started moving in slow motion like a scene fresh out of one of those rom-coms you keep trying to subject him to.

His legs stretch without any instruction from his brain, pushing himself up onto his feet until he can make his way over and meet you halfway.

Your eyes light up and your hand lifts in a nervous wave as you start heading straight for him, the action causing the thin spaghetti strap of your dress to fall down your shoulder.

“Hey,” he breathes out, in what feels like relief, mouth breaking out into a dreamy grin until you’re right in front of him.

“Sorry I’m a little late, it took me forever to find a dress, and then my hair wouldn’t go right, and then the Uber took every back road known to man despite me literally telling him,” Luke reaches to readjust the fallen strap as you talk, fingers trailing ever so slightly against the soft skin of your shoulder, “That I knew a quicker way, and then we ended up at those lights over on Palmer for like 10 minutes, I think I was in that car so long I’m all crinkly.”

His eyes drop slowly down your figure, the silky fabric clinging to your curves in all the right spots, the soft yellow a perfect match to the tie around his neck. “You’re beautiful,” he reassures you with ease, cheeks flushing ever so slightly when your eyes meet his - but he’s used to that, by now, the way his head goes hot when you look at him. “I was gonna get a drink, do you want one?”

He extends his hand out to you in invitation before you even nod in response, and when your fingers slide between his, the heat that is swirling around his head and face starts to spread down, past his neck, into his chest, settling there as the two of you make your way over to the bar.

This last week without you has been hell.

Sat in his hotel room in Vegas, checking his phone for any sort of update - a text, an instagram post, a story - and wondering if that night before he had left had been playing on your mind the same way it had on his.

Soft, slow kisses pressed into reciprocated lips, hands memorising every inch of each other’s bodies, desperate but intentional movements into one another. It was hardly his first time, but God, had it felt like it. It was definitely the first time he had ever felt anything that deep for another person - felt so connected, so attached.

And, despite the lingering insecurity that he thinks he might always feel when it comes to you, he knew you felt the same.

You had told him in the simplest terms - you wanted him - but you had shown him so much more. Eyes stuck on his as he moved against you, foreheads pressed together, lips seeking his at every given opportunity, nails scratching at the broad expanse of his shoulders when he had taken the lead and flipped the two of you over.

Gasps and moans, pleading and pining, begging and singing for him as you came undone for the first, second and third time.

He doesn’t know how you can possibly even try to carry on pretending you don’t feel even an ounce of the infatuation he does.

Not when you look at him the way you do, eyes sparkling and wanting. Not when he had spent the past week pressing his fingertips into the bruises you had kissed again into the lowest part his stomach like that had become your spot, hoping he could aggravate them enough to linger until you could make some more.

Not when, even though the two of you have been stood at the bar now for a good few minutes, you haven’t made any efforts to take your fingers from where his are playing with them between the two of you.

“You never answered my question, earlier,” he hums as the two of you wait for your drinks.

“You talk so much, Hughes, you’re gonna have to remind me which question that was.”

“Did you miss me?” His head tilts with curiosity as he watches the hesitation cross your features, lashes fluttering as you look up at him with your lips pressed together to keep them from spluttering out the truth. “I missed you.” He admits, in the hopes that expressing his candour might elicit the same in you.

“I’m surprised you found the time, you looked very occupied on your brothers’ stories.” Bingo.

“You been keeping tabs on me?” The smirk that accompanies the question is instinctual, and he manages to catch the slight shift in your demeanour before you can retreat, closing his fingers around your hand before you can pull it away.

“No,” you scoff, and when you pull insistently for him to release your hand, the strap of your dress falls loose down your arm again, Luke’s eyes following before he fixes it for you once more. “Just stumbled across some pictures, I guess,”

“Yeah, you just tripped and fell into stalking me?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t doing the same, I saw those little 3 dots come up so often I was starting to think you were typing up the entirety of War and Peace.”

Which means you’d been lingering in your message thread with him, too. Gotcha.

“You know, the world won’t end if you just admit you missed me.”

“Fine.” It slips out before you know what you’re saying, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights as you realise you’ve already given in. “I missed you.”

He smiles, but doesn’t press, and it’s a smile that lingers as the two of you just look at each other, his eyes drifting down to watch your lips twist and press together, biting back whatever insult or chirp you’re just dying to throw his way to cover up. He waits for it to come, but loves that it doesn’t, and loves even more that you’re holding onto the moment as much as he is.

“Do you wanna dance?” Luke asks a while later, once the two of you have gulped down a couple of drinks, have sat with the others for a little, and he’s watched you watch the dance floor with a yearning gaze.

Your eyes meet his after he poses the question, a confidence in his demeanour that has you crumbling immediately.

You nod, allowing him to guide you over to where a few other couples are swaying on the dance floor, and you let him guide you into his arms, one hand in his and the other resting on his shoulder.

It should be awkward, you think, remembering back on all the times you’ve tried this before. School dances and proms, clumsily shuffling and trying to avoid being stomped on by your partner’s feet - but the two of you move with ease, and you’d like to think it’s because his body knows yours by now.

“This is so weird,” you mutter, eyes cast down to watch his feet move in his fancy Oxford shoes, a soft flush to your cheeks.

“What do you mean?” He asks, nerves heightening as he stiffens like he’s waiting for you to let him go - to step away and cut this short like it doesn’t make you feel the same way.

“Slow dancing is for old folk like war veterans and millennials.” Your lips twist as your eyes meet his, and his lips turn up into a slow smile, a deep, melodic chuckle following closely behind.

“If you’d rather bump’n'grind on me, I get it,” he smirks.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scoff back, twitching to shake the hair from your shoulder, assuming that’s what is causing the shivers currently shooting down your spine, and not the large, possessive hand resting in the dip of your waist.

“Y’know, I’ve realised something about you lately,” he starts, voice low as he leans in, angling into your exposed neck and stopping his lips within mere inches of your ear, “You have a tell.”

“A tell?” You turn, brow raised as your gaze meets his, faces close enough that you can feel the soft pants of his breath on your skin.

“For when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be,” he hums, his eyes fluttering a little as they drop to watch your mouth, the swipe of your tongue wetting your lower lip. “You call me an idiot,” his hand on your waist squeezes ever so slightly, your back arching a little into his touch, “Or stupid,” he uses his other hand, the one clutching at yours, to pull you closer, “Or dumb, or a dork.”

You can feel your heart thudding at the call-out, beating in time to the music, in time to the way your bodies sway together, creating it’s own rhythm for the two of you to dance to.

“Maybe you’re just a stupid, dumb, dorky idiot.” You squeak out, immediately hating the way the words taste in your mouth, your face souring and eyes narrowing in deliberation. There’s no way that was at all convincing, and the smirk that tugs up his lips is all you need to know he sees right through you.

“Maybe,” he humours you, anyway. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”

“A smug dorky idiot.” You correct yourself, cutting out stupid and dumb, the sharpness of those words cutting at your tongue like a knife.

The pointlessness of such discussion almost waters down the exhilaration you feel at being this close to him, in public, nonetheless, where literally anyone else could call you out on your growing tolerance of Luke, could connect the dots regarding all the time the two of you have been spending together and wave the evidence of your growing affection like a chequered flag for all to see.

This definitely feels like you’re crossing the finish line.

And, of course, it’s Jack who does the honours, primed all night to find some way to get between you and Luke upon your arrival, stumbling up to the two of you at the end of the song you’re swaying to and laying a heavy palm on your shoulder.

“Isn’t this cosy?”

“Fuck off, Jack,” Luke scowls before you get the chance, a pointed glare directed towards his brother, the palming grip at your waist growing faint as you try to wedge a little distance between the two of you, fighting a losing battle with your instinct to run and hide.

“I need to talk to your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his-,”

“She’s not my-,”

The two of you speak simultaneously, and despite the fact that you were saying the exact same thing, him saying it kind of dampens your mood, putting a good couple of steps between you and Luke with your arms crossing over your chest as you look toward his brother.

“Whatever. Can I borrow her for a couple minutes?”

“I’m not property, Jack, you can ask me directly.”

“Please can we talk? Alone?”

“Let’s go outside,” you huff, storming off before he has the chance to say anything else and making it all the way outside before he speaks again.

“Sorry for interrupting, you and Luke looked kind of cute-,”

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry I said you were messing him around, and that you were toxic.”

You frown at him, watching as he diverts his gaze to the ground, nervously shuffling on his feet and fingers fidgeting with the cuffs on his shirt.

“I’m sorry for all the things I said and did at that party, I didn’t mean them, I was just drunk and upset. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You chew nervously on the inside of your cheeks as he talks, arms wrapped around yourself to shield from the brisk night air, and you watch as Jack starts to unravel before your very eyes.

For as long as you’ve known Ellie, for as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him as anything less than cool, calm and collected - it’s kind of the main thing that grinds your gears about him if your honest, the fact that he never seems real. Like he’s putting on some sort of persona to seem like he has all his shit together, when you know he doesn’t.

“I really like Ellie, you know,” he sighs, and you scoff, because of course you know that. “And I was blaming you for putting this wedge between us when it’s really me that’s been fucking up.” You know that, too. “I’ve been thinking about her this past week, and I really wanna pull myself together and finally do something about it. Stop being such an idiot.”

You bite your tongue from questioning the reality of that. He’ll always be an idiot, you think, but that’s best left unspoken. It’s not even personal to him, that’s just part of being a man.

“She likes you too,” You tell him instead, despite the fact that it goes against all sorts of girl code to do so. You’re doing them both a favour, and the universe should really just let you off, you feel. “I don’t know why either of you have wasted so much time when you’ve both felt the same way all along.”

“You really think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

“I do,” you shrug, “And it doesn’t need to be done on some romantic boat trip or some crazy elaborate scheme, you should just ask her when she gets back next week. Like as soon as she comes through the door, it will save us all a headache.”

“You sound like Luke.”

“Yeah, well, he’s rubbing off on me, I guess.”

“I don’t need to hear what the two of you get up to when you’re alone, that’s my little brother.”

You reach over and shove at his arm, and for the first time ever, when your eyes meet his, neither of them are narrowed. He’s smiling, and you’re smiling too, and it feels a little like a weight has been lifted from your chest, fresh air filling your lungs.

“Let’s go back inside, Luke’s probably thinking we’ve killed each other.”

“I’m just gonna take a second, it’s kinda stuffy in there.”

Jack nods, before making his way back to the reception, and you make your way over to the fountain, heels working through the gravel until you take a seat on the side.

It’s a couple of minutes before you hear footsteps, and before you see the fancy oxfords come into your view, eyes roaming up the long, lean body of the boy who has your brain running marathons.

When your eyes meet, his gaze is warm, and it feels like he can see right through you. Like he’s looking into the depths of your mind, holding a big cheesy sign as he waits at the finish line for your thoughts to come to an end.

He sits wordlessly beside you, his knees knocking against yours, and waits for you to speak - although the silence doesn’t feel awkward, or forced. He waits, patiently and understandingly, and you feel like he’s giving you the time to figure out what you want to say.

It feels monumental, this moment, like you’re teetering on the edge of something real and honest for the first time in a while.

“The other week, when we,” your voice feels heavy, thick at the back of your throat, “You know,”

“I was strictly advised to forget about it, so no, I don’t know,” he teases, and you’re kind of thankful that he’s trying to ease the tension you’re building for yourself. “But if you wanna jog my memory.” You shove lightly at his shoulder. “I’m kidding. What about it?”

“I’ve never really done that before?”

“What, snuck a guy up to his room in the middle of a house party and rocked his world?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You scoff, smiling to yourself, despite the weight of all that you’re about to admit to him. “I’ve only ever slept with one other guy, and he wasn’t very nice about it after, so I just,” you frown, “Don’t really do it.”

“You don’t-,” he frowns too, you can see it from your peripheral, eyes till on the hands fidgeting in your lap, “But I thought-,” You look over and meet his eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted in confusion. “What?”

“The first guy, Jamie,” you start, twisting to face him, knees knocking once more. “We started talking in the summer before my freshman year, got to know each other ‘cause he lived one town over from me and he’d come into work all the time, and then when I started college he was a sophomore, and he was the first guy to ever take, like, a serious interest in me. And we had a lot in common, he was on the soccer team, we grew up in the same area, we got on really well, it was the first time I ever really felt connected to anyone like that. But I’d never done anything before, so I wanted to take things slow,”

Jamie Reeves. Captain of the University of Michigan Soccer Team until he tore his ACL at the end of his last year, ruining all dreams of playing in the MLS, like it was entirely achievable for a player of his caliber anyway. You had been infatuated by him, though. The kind of infatuation that a younger you might have doodled little hearts around his name in all your notebooks.

And then he turned out to be a complete leech.

“Please don’t tell me he rushed you into it.” Luke straightens his posture, reaching to place his hand over yours in your lap, the touch immediately comforting, and his concern even more so.

“No. Not exactly.” You sigh, hating how dramatic you feel about the whole thing. “We went on dates, and things were going really well, so I figured I trusted him enough to be my first, then after we had sex he just went really off. He wouldn’t take me out anymore, wasn’t putting any effort in. And then people started asking me all these questions about him, and what we did, and I realised he was going around telling everyone all the details, like I was just some conquest he could tick off to the boys on the team.” You remember how ashamed you had felt, eyes on you in every corridor, whispers about you in every class. You couldn’t leave your dorm without someone muttering some obscene comment about you, and you just felt awful. “Every time one of them saw me they’d make all these dumb comments, and I just felt dirty all the time, like I’d done something wrong. Then I went to a party at Pike, the one at Halloween,” The party that Luke had approached you for the first time since you met, and you had stormed off in tears - not due to him at all, but due to the fact you had just seen Jamie sticking his tongue down someone else’s throat, mere days after you had seen him last. “And he was all over one of the girls on the field hockey team, didn’t even look my way again after that, not that I really wanted him to.”

“You haven’t been with anyone since?”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t stop people saying I have, though. I tried dating a couple times, but it always ended up the same way, rumours being spread about me sleeping around and being easy. And it’s so dumb, ‘cause it’s like I trusted one guy, and somehow it keeps backfiring on me.” You pay no mind, for the first time in a long time, to the crack in your voice as you say it, no longer afraid of showing any hint of vulnerability. Not to Luke. You need to get this out - get it out of the way, once and for all, so you can move past it. Move on, even, with someone you hope won’t treat you the same.

“Does that mean you trusted me?”

You try not to think too hard about all the times the two of you have shared any level of intimacy - the physical touch mostly initiated by you, and it’s hardly ever on a whim. You think a lot about Luke, if you’re honest. About how he’s honest, and he sticks by his word when he promises not to tell anyone anything. How he always tries to make you laugh or smile, even if it’s something stupid. He isn’t afraid to embarrass himself with you, isn’t afraid to give you power, to let you take the lead. And even though sometimes he jokes otherwise, the times you hang out, he has no ulterior motives. He likes talking to you, likes watching movies with you, likes meeting your eye in a crowded room and giving you one of those smiles that have started to make your heart stutter with something unidentifiable.

“I guess so.” Your shoulder lifts in a nonchalant shrug, your words anything, but. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it since and I can’t explain why it happened but I feel like you and me are-,”

Connected? Compatible?

You know what he would say you are. You don’t know if you’re there, yet.There are so many things the two of you have become over the past few weeks, so many things you’ve wanted to be for longer than you even realised, so many things you’re afraid to say.

“I feel like out of everyone, you’d have no reason to lie to me. Or about me.”

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t know all that stuff,” he frowns, and it seems like his mind only just makes sense of all the times you threatened him after the fact, making sure he wouldn’t tell anyone that the two of you kissed, or hung out alone in an intimate space and maybe potentially enjoyed yourselves. He had thought you were ashamed of it - but all this time, you’ve been protective. Of yourself, of the trust you were building in him. “Why don’t you tell people, that those guys are all lying?”

“No one would believe me,” you shrug, eyes cast down to where his hand still rests on yours, and his touch prevents you from picking nervously at the skin around your nails.

“I do,” He assures you, “And I promise the next time I hear anyone say any of that stuff about you, I’ll beat their face in.”

“Yeah, you’d drop gloves for me?”

“Look at you with your hockey talk.” He coos, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, where you had barely noticed a tear trailing down until he wipes it away with his thumb, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I would. We’re partners, remember? I’ve got your back.” He extends his pinkie out to you, and you curl yours around it until he’s tugging it toward him, leaning down to press his lips to your knuckle, his kiss like a promise as his green eyes meet yours.

It doesn’t gross you out, this time. If you’re honest with yourself, it hadn’t the first time he did it, either. It was cute, in an entirely dorky and childish and almost nostalgic way.

And you’re compelled to do the same, leaning and touching your pouted lips to his pinky, eyes fluttering closed as you kiss his skin, the rush of blood to your head somehow louder than the steady stream of the fountain beside you.

“Listen,” he starts, lowering his hand but keeping your pinkies interlocked, resting them between you both on the stone. “If whatever this is that we’re doing makes you uncomfortable, or brings all that stuff back, I can back off a little.”

Something akin to disappointment floods through your system, your heart rate picking up in a panicked staccato, but you try to stay cool - still, for whatever reason, holding your cards close to your chest.

“I can make sure my brothers don’t make any more stupid comments about us, they’re doing it to annoy me, not you. And I can,” he takes a deep breath, eyes flickering between yours as if to gauge your desires before he has to reluctantly pander to them. “I can stop, too.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do to shake away the tears threatening to flood your lash line at just the thought of him giving up on you.

It’s the lump in your throat that blocks the words coming out to tell him as much, and your lips twist in discomfort as you take in the way he’s looking at you - gaze filled with dwindling patience and waining resilience. There’s only so far you can continue to push him, you can see that now, and if you’d have told the version of yourself that first sat down with him all those weeks ago - the version of yourself that refuted any chance of ever warming up to him, that saw him as nothing more than an annoyance, a disturbance to your tips for the day - that the thought of him stopping whatever you have would make you feel like this?

That cold-hearted bitch would have laughed in your face.

“Hey, lovebirds!” There’s a shout from across the courtyard, and Quinn appears in the distance with hands cupped around his mouth. The intrusion has you retracting your hand, and you can see the way Luke reacts in your peripheral, a resigned nod given instinctually before he looks over to his brother. “I’m driving home if you two want a ride!”

Luke doesn’t look back at you before pushing himself up, but he offers a hand to help you stand, and the two of you walk in silence to meet Quinn by the exit.

The car ride back to the house is silent, too, save for the soft hum of the radio that filters through the car. Josh sits up front with Quinn, head lulling against the window as he falls asleep worryingly quick, and you’re squished in the middle between Luke and Alex, Jack having stayed back with their parents. It’s hard not to press your legs against Luke’s - his are so gangly and long that they take up more than their fair share of room, and it’s much less awkward despite the circumstances to be touching him than touching Turcs. You feel a lot less tense when you’re touching, anyway.

And when Quinn pulls up, Luke still helps you out of the car - ever the gentleman, even in the face of apparent rejection.

Quinn and Alex work at lugging an overly inebriated Josh up to his room, leaving Luke to guide you through the house, and the silence starts to become unbearable as he whispers a quick and quiet goodnight, leaving you at the door to yours and Ellie’s room as he makes his way down the hall.

“Hey, Luke,” you call out in a whisper toward him as he retreats, his tall frame turning, a gleam of what you interpret as hope flashing across his green eyes.

“Yeah?” He hums back, voice low as not to disturb anyone else, gaze meeting yours, locking in place with an almost audible click.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

You’re worried for a second you’ll have to expand, that maybe his slightly intoxicated memory doesn’t stretch as far back as to remember the conversation the two of you had had out by the fountain.

Elaborating on it would be embarrassing to say the least - because what, exactly, are you supposed to say?

I don’t want you to stop flirting with me.

I don’t want you to stop kissing me when no one else is around.

I don’t want you to stop being the only person I can talk to.

I don’t want you to stop bulldozing into my very secure and sturdy walls, thank you very much. They’re starting to tumble down in what could be a very calamitous fashion.

Worried you might have to expose a little more of yourself than you had originally anticipated, you chew at the corner of your lip, waiting.

But then he smiles - in that easy way that makes your bones feel like jelly, your knees weakening to the point that you lean against the still-closed door of your room. In the way that has that loudmouth voice you’re trying too often to suppress within you screaming, God, he’s so cute!

“I know,” he smirks, the bastard, liquid courage running deep through his veins, “Inevitable, remember?”

You scoff, almost instinctively rolling your eyes despite the endeared warmth that floods your belly. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” he says again, “You coming?”

And all you can do is nod, biting back a fully-fledged smile before you’re rushing over and slotting yourself under his outstretched arm.

You definitely enjoy him more than you should.

Living with boys for the first time in your life has taught you a lot over the weeks you’ve been staying at the lake house.

The first is that they’re weirdly messy - in ways that shouldn’t bother you, but they do. It isn’t clothes left around, or dirty plates - but it’s hand soap crusted around the spout by the faucet, shoes kicked off and discarded at random points throughout the house, and they, for some bizarre reason, never put the lid back right on anything.

The second is that they’re loud - and that should have been anticipated. Guys are notoriously obnoxious. But it isn’t just their voices that carry. It’s footsteps up the stairs, stomping in the dead of the night when one of them needs a drink. It’s chewing their food, or slurping their coffee, or scraping the feet of their chairs against the floor when they’re sat at the dining table. It’s tapping their hands on their knees in haphazard rhythm whenever there might be an ounce of peace that they, without a doubt, misunderstand for awkward silence.

And the third is that they probably couldn’t organise a fire in a match factory. And that goes for a lot of things - the kitchen cupboards, their laundry loads, and, most importantly, one of the many parties they love to throw.

It wouldn’t bother you so much - they usually work out in the end - but this time, it’s Ellie’s birthday, and the way they leave everything until the last minute is about to give you an aneurysm or something.

There’s no food, no drinks, no cake, no decorations, and the party is tonight.

And Jack, who’s grand idea it had been to throw her a party in the first place, seems to have kidnapped her - disappearing and leaving you to try and figure out what’s going on.

Cole is the one who finds you in the kitchen, spiralling out, frantically trying to put together some kind of list so that one of the guys can go to the store and pick up the bare minimum to throw a party together - and he manages to calm you down - gathers the rest of the guys and helps come up with a plan, sharing out different categories. Quinn and Josh are down to get drinks, Cole and Alex are down to get food, and you and Luke are down for decorations.

And then within the next five minutes, you’re back up in your room, transferring things from one of your bags into a tote, so you can carry more stuff back to the car without having to bring back a load of plastic, and Luke is sat on your bed, leaning back onto his hands as he watches you, green eyes still tickling your skin with their tangible watch.

“I know we’re on a time crunch, but could we make another pit-stop at the mall? I still need to find a present for this baby shower.”

“Oh, actually, I made you something.”

“You made me something?” You can feel him watching you as you dig through the bag you’d brought back with you from being home.

“Yeah, I was bored, when you guys were gone, I forgot to give it to you when you got back, got kinda distracted by the whole wedding thing,” you tell him, reaching blindly to try and find the little figure. “I went by that art supply store and picked up one of those kits,” You finally find it, pulling out the little crotchet animal that may or may not have been your fourth attempt. The first had a stubby neck, the second had uneven legs, and you don’t think the third one’s face was anywhere near appropriate to be gifting to a child. This one isn’t perfect, but you’d honestly reached your limit with it. “Don’t make it a thing, it was like therapy while I was back home to be honest.”

“Oh that’s adorable.” He pouts, accepting it from you and immediately turning it back, bobbing it’s head as if to greet you. “Why a giraffe?”

“Long neck,” you smile, reaching out to pat it. “Reminded me of you.”

“Ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, but the laughter feels real enough. “She’ll love it.”

“She?” It slips out by instinct before you can check yourself, eyes widening as his meet yours again, his lips twitching in the corners. “Thought you said it was for your captain,”

“It is.” He smirks, “Men can’t carry babies last time I checked.”

You nod, because of course men can’t carry babies. Of course the shower is for the mother of the baby - who you vaguely remember Jack and Luke talking about - someone who works with them back in Jersey. Someone they’re both close to, clearly, if Luke’s stressing this much about a gift.

“Wait, are you jealous?”

“No.” You scoff, frowning purposefully, lips turning down in forced denial.

“You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You want to take this back now, huh?” He holds the giraffe in a way that it bends, adorably, like he’s trying to taunt you with it, and it’s wonky eyes do little to distract from the charm he gives it.

“Nope.” You shrug, “You can give it to whatever girl you want, doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Of course not,” he stands, stepping toward you slowly, “You couldn’t care less what I do away from this house, right?”

“Right.” You gulp, looking into soft green eyes, your legs starting to wobble at the knees, strength and integrity waining as the seconds pass. You really don’t know why you’re still keeping this game up. Ever since that night of the wedding, you’ve been sneaking off into Luke’s room as soon as Ellie falls asleep. You fall asleep by his side, and he wakes you when he gets up early, so you can sneak back without Ellie realising you’ve even gone.

You’ve kissed him every day, sometimes tender, sometimes torrid - over the centre console of his car when he drops you off at work, in his bed before you drift off to sleep, in the kitchen when you sneak off under the ruse of refilling your drink. He can tell the difference between the flavours of lip balms you wear, comments on it like he has a little ranking system filed away somewhere in the back of his mind. You both whisper your secrets in the dark of the night, and you had promised him that you would try to open yourself up more to him.

“I thought we were past this,” he hums, stepping closer, voice low in a way that buzzes through your bones. “Thought we were being honest with each other, now.”

“Honest?” You ask, voice weak, neck craning now to look up at him, eyes boring into your own as he advances on you.

His hand reaches to cup your jaw, to tilt your head just that bit further, and presses his lips straight to yours instead of elaborating any further.

He’s tentative, at first. Gentle, even. Fingertips ghosting along the side of your neck, pulling you closer, less with any physical force and more so with pure magnetic attraction, your skin humming - buzzing, even, to be touched by him in any which way.

Your chin tilts as your mouths slot together in a soft, slow kiss, and when his lips touch yours, everything else fits perfectly into place. The fingers of his left hand press firmly into the flesh of your hip, now, using a slight force to manoeuvre you how it suits him - as close as he can physically get you - and those on his right reach around enough to slightly curve towards the back of your neck, applying just enough pressure so that your chin angles upward to deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing a pleading invitation into your bottom lip.

An invitation you immediately grant him, your hands finding their place on his body with ease, one flat against the warm expanse of his chest and the other matching his, soft fingertips grazing the skin of his neck until they tangle in the slight overgrowth of curls at the nape.

Everything feels so fluid, so effortless, and yet, so new - like this is the first time you have kissed, an eruption of fresh feelings bursting through you. There’s still a familiarity that lingers - one of ease, where it’s like your bodies have each other mapped out, already. You know every cell of him and he of you, and it’s evident in the way the moment escalates.

Your bodies naturally gravitate towards the nearest surface, his fingers reaching out behind your hip to soften the blow of him pushing you into the dresser, your back arching, feet moving in sync as not to tangle and trip, or stumble and break the kiss.

But there’s nothing else clumsy about it.

He lifts you with ease, the cold surface only a slight shock to the system, and it brings you to the perfect height where he can seamlessly move his kisses from your lips, past your jaw, down your neck and into the crevice of your collarbones, leaving a trail of the sticky residue of your lip balm.

Strong hands cup your thighs, parting your legs until he can stand between them, and your fingers bury themselves into his curls, pushing into him however you can.

When his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, his lips part from the hot skin of your clavicle, and his head tilts slightly until his darkened green eyes meet yours.

“Please,” you breathe out before he can even ask, beyond caring for whatever particles of pride you’ve been desperately trying to cling to when you watch his lips curve slowly into the most panty-dropping smirk you think you’ve ever seen.

“Please what?”

Your lips part as if by instinct, a biting remark fizzling out on the tip of your tongue as your mind works for some kind of comeback, for some semblance of resistance to whatever this version of him is, but there’s nothing. Just a frantic plea for him to do anything to you. Whatever he wants.

Your hips shuffle forward as if led by a mind of their own, trying to force his hand up, only for him to follow the movement of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you find yourself pouting, spikes of heat flashing through you at the way you can see the thoughts crossing his mind, of all the ways in which he can torture you - putty in the palm of what you thought were safe hands.

“Tell me you were jealous,” he prompts, leaning forward to press a teasing kiss to your lips, “Tell me that the thought of me even talking to another girl makes your skin crawl.”

Don’t let him get cocky, a voice prevails in the back of your mind, despite the accuracy of his words. Tell him he’d have to have an ounce of game for you to be remotely worried, tell him the only thing that makes your skin crawl is his incessant need to mouth off all the time. Tell him, tell him, tell him!

“I was jealous,” you breathe out instead, chasing the victorious smirk that stretches across his lips in the hopes you can kiss it away.

Jealous of a girl you’ve never met, in a relationship with another man, pregnant with his child, not remotely interested in Luke.

A girl who gets to see him all the time, who knows him probably in ways you might never, who he cares enough about to want to gift her something meaningful. Who he casually texts and smiles at his phone as he’s doing so, who he and Jack talk affectionately about in ways they’ll never talk about you.

You’ve officially lost it.

“And if you don’t touch me in the next 3 seconds,” you carry on, scrambling to claw back one single iota of your dignity, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders, “I won’t let you touch me again.”

Luke laughs. Practically snorts at you, eyes crinkling in the corners in pure amusement. Your dignity is long gone.

“1,” you start, your voice shakier than you’d ever like it to be, and his hands move to either side of your hips, clutching at the edge of the dresser.

“2,” you didn’t think you could sound worse than before, definitely longer than a second ago, but you’re quickly proven wrong as you watch him leverage that grip to push himself upright, creating a distance between the two of you that drains all the heat from your body.

“3.” he finishes, taking a step back and watching you with unadulterated hunger in his eyes, daring you to follow through with your threat - and the smug idiot knows you won’t.

He knows it’s coming, even anticipates the way in which you pounce on him, arms ready to catch you when you throw yourself down onto the ground in front of him, landing with a quick thud that jolts you straight into him. Hands at either side of his face pull him down, and he does half of the work in bending his back so it isn’t as clumsy.

You tangle yourself up in him, legs twisting between each other until you’re stumbling toward the bed, and it’s as soon as you get your fingers back into his hair, as soon as his hands are pushing your top up, grazing at the warm skin of your back, that you hear a call of your name.

You falter back from him just as the door swings open, managing to create a reasonable amount of distance as Ellie swaggers in, voice still raised as she asks, “Have you seen my-,” It’s Luke that she sees first, eyes zeroing in on his flushed face with pin-point accuracy, her brows furrowing as she takes him in, heaving chest and messy hair and all. “Lip gloss?”

Lip gloss? Is she joking?

“You came all the way back up here for lip gloss?” You ask, still slightly breathless and brain fogged, and feeling very much like you’ve just put all your chips on the table and watched them get swept away in seconds.

You watch as Ellie’s eyes dart to Luke’s mouth, watch him grow conscious of the balmy coating smeared across his lips, and you feel your heart stop in it’s place, your chest squeezing in anticipation of a thump thump thump that doesn’t come.

“No,” she mutters, diverting her attention back to you with a sobering shake of her head. “Balm,” she corrects, “The kind with SPF, I think I’m burning, I didn’t realise me and Jack were gonna be gone all morning.”

“Uhm, yeah,” you breathe, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears in the hopes it helps cool your head down, some. “I have some in my bag.”

Your tote is on the dresser you had just been placed on yourself, and you use the opportunity to dig through it to will the burning sensation in your ears away, levelling out your breathing as you root around for a tube of lip balm you know is in there somewhere.

“Could you check for my car keys, too? I was thinking we could drop by the mall for lunch. Catch up” She adds, with a forced wiggle of her brows, clearly what she had actually come up here for, and you fish those out too, throwing them across to her. “Quinn’s looking for you before you go, Luke, something about a list.”

“I should go check what he wants,” Luke mumbles, putting another few steps of distance between you before he offers an awkward wave, and departs the room with heavy feet that you hear stomp all the way down the hall, the last thing you see of him being a skinny, lopsided crochet giraffe poking out of his back pocket.

Apparently Jack’s plans of keeping some element of surprise for the party had gone out of the window as soon as he had got her alone - and you’re kind of grateful for the fact.

Keeping secrets from Ellie is stressful - you of all people would know, you’ve somehow managed to keep a pretty big one from her all summer - and she usually has a way of figuring things out on her own.

You probably would have folded to her - just the two of you out together, sipping smoothies in the food court at the mall - if he hadn’t already filled her in one the plans for the night.

It makes up a little for his lack of effort, earlier - especially now that your hands are clear of it. You don’t know how much you trust the guys to put something together while you and Ellie are looking for an outfit for her, but you have no choice but to leave them to it. Jack had reassured you he had everything under control, and despite the absurdity of that statement, it’s nice for that panic you had been feeling earlier to have been flushed away.

“I think tonight’s the night,” Ellie sighs dreamily, elbow resting on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, “We had this really deep conversation while we were out walking, and he pretty much told me he has feelings for me, he was really nervous, it was kind of cute.”

“I’ll take your word for the cute thing,” you chuckle, sipping at your smoothie and smiling at how happy she looks. It’s nice to hear, her having hope about the situation for once, instead of dread or fear.

“He said you two spoke at his cousin’s wedding,”

“It was nothing,” you shrug, “He didn’t need any interference from me to realise he likes you, El, he just needed a nudge.”

“I can hardly call you out on interfering,” her lips twist, nervously, “I’ve kind of been doing the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I’ve been hanging out with Cole so much all summer?”

“Cole?” You frown, leaning back into your chair, “You’ve lost me.”

When you’d last spoken to Ellie about Cole, she had told you they just got along, and there was nothing more to it - and you had no reason to believe otherwise. When you and Luke had been in the midst of your own interference, and you had been playing third wheel to their hangouts, they had been getting along. Almost like siblings. Cole never flashed her those flirty winks or toothy grins that he gave everyone else.

“He’s into you.” She says, finger swiping in the ring left behind from her smoothie cup on the table, “And I was kind of giving him advice on how to approach you. I figured you wouldn’t mind, ‘cause he’s like your normal type, and you seemed like you liked him-,”

“I’m sorry, you think I like Cole?”

You’re taken aback. You don’t remember giving any sort of indication you were ever into Cole Caufield.

Maybe you could have been, before this summer - would have probably fallen victim to his cheeky smiles or his teasing banter. He’s probably closer to your usual type, if you even have one. Confident, with a presence that sort of demands attention. But you realise, now, your attention should be earned - in more than just a flash of cute teeth and boyish features.

In dumb jokes told just to bring you out of a bad mood, and a car with the AC dialled up waiting for you after a shift on a hot day. In hands that offer you help before you ever have to ask, and eyes that see so far beyond what version of yourself you try to put out there.

You could have liked Cole, in another world, or another life, if another boy wasn’t around.

“I did until I walked in on you kissing Luke, earlier.”

You blink slowly at her, mouth agape as she stares blankly back.

What the fuck?

“I wasn’t kissing Luke,” you scoff, denial making your face twist in funny ways that you can even feel look deranged. “We were talking.”

“Into each other’s open mouths?” She snickers, “Unless he’s been digging around in our stuff when we’re not around, I can’t think of any other reason he’d have left the room with Summer Fridays Vanilla Beige smeared all over his lips.”

“It was Brown Sugar, actually.” You correct her, guiltily, hoping the words you mutter next through pouted lips don’t quite make it to her ears. “He says it’s sweeter.”

“Oh my God.” She guffaws, mouth agape and eyes wide in realisation. “How long has this been going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” you deny, although you can feel heat creeping up your neck, already. “We just get along-,”

“We get along, and you don’t welcome me home with an open mouth.”

“Ellie-,”

“Listen, he’s not just some guy that you can mess around with, he’s way deeper into you than you probably realise, and-,”

“I like him, okay?” you blurt out, voice just loud enough to be heard over her rambling but not enough to carry anywhere else, and the silence that follows is almost deafening - prolonged in a way that you can’t even remember if you said anything, or not.

But the way Ellie is looking at you tells you enough.

Why is everyone so caught up on you breaking his heart?

As if you aren’t putting the entirety of yours on the line.

“Luke?” She asks, like the two of you haven’t just been talking about him. “You like Luke Hughes?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, leaning onto your elbows and pressing the palms of your hands to your face, eyes scrunching tight to try clear up some mind space to make sense of what it is you’re admitting to.

It makes sense already, to you. Verbalising it is the problem.

He’s charming, he’s funny, he makes you laugh, most times unintentionally but that doesn’t make your feelings dwindle in the slightest.

He’s weirdly passionate about that one horse movie and won’t shut up trying to get you to watch it with him, but it’s endearing in a way that you want to kiss him to shut him up. Or maybe even watch it, God forbid.

He literally never stops eating, but it’s like his body is in tune to yours now, and he always makes double if he feels like you might be hungry so you don’t ever have to ask, which is weirdly sweet.

When you lay beside him in the middle of the night, you don’t feel pressured to do anything other than talk.

And when you do, he listens to you - retains information and checks up in a way that makes you feel seen, makes you feel a way you haven’t in a really long time. He doesn’t talk over you, or dismiss your feelings, or try to change the topic when things go a little too deep or get a little heavy. He shares the load, asks questions that make you think and process things in a new way, and he isn’t patronising when he does so. He doesn’t say things that sound like they’re straight out of a Psych 101 textbook like your feelings are valid or what makes you think that?

And he compares your wildly different worlds in a way that doesn’t feel like a competition. His troubles aren’t worse than yours, his life isn’t harder.

You’re equals.

You’ve never felt like anyone’s equal, not even Ellie.

It’s like with all the other parts of your life that make you hurt, make you feel small and insignificant - they fade away when you’re with Luke.

His corner of your world is bright - despite the seemingly inexhaustible snark-meter constantly ticking between you two - it’s easy, doesn’t weigh down on you or make your chest feel tight, not in that way, at least.

You’ve been introduced to a whole new influx of feelings in your chest by Luke.

You can give in to the ugly side of yourself that wants to bite at him until there’s nothing left, to push whenever he gets a little too close, and you don’t have to worry that you’ll scare him off or push too far, ‘cause he’ll just pull you with him and bite back - only, it doesn’t hurt like when anyone else does it. Somehow, you think he savours the parts that other people might spit out - chews and swallows and rubs at his belly in satisfaction like you’re the best meal he’s ever had.

Despite all the other things that have shattered your heart, Luke Hughes makes it feel whole, again.

And it should make you feel sick - lovey-dovey stuff like that usually does, your walls shooting straight up at the first sign of affection from anybody, metaphorical sneakers on and carrying your legs as far and as fast as they can run - but this doesn’t.

You don’t want to run from Luke, not really.

“I thought you said he was dorky and annoying.”

You’re pretty sure she had been the one to say that, at some point, but you don’t remember arguing the fact, so you don’t bring it up.

“He is.” You pout. He’s also apparently inevitable. “He kinda crept up on me, I guess.”

Ellie is quiet for a minute as she watches you, eyes narrowing as she takes you in - shoulders slumped, lips pouted, defeated.

“Why not just tell him, then? Why hide it?” She asks, leaning onto the table too until your faces are level when you peak up at her, “You know he likes you back, right? He’s got the biggest crush on you, it’s borderline problematic.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really understand why he likes me.”

“Does it matter?”

It does. You don’t want to keep running, but you can’t really help it. There’s something ingrained deep within you that is trying to shelter yourself from all the ways in which succumbing to these feelings will inevitably hurt you.

“Luke’s way smarter than me, and he’s way more successful, he’s kind and he’s generous, he comes from a great family, has this great house, we have literally nothing in common, and he doesn’t see that now because he just thinks he’s attracted to me, and he likes that I don’t just fold to him because he’s some superstar, but the second that’s gone,” you sigh, trying to swallow down the hurt in your voice, blink away the onslaught of tears, “He’ll just get bored of me like everybody else does, and then he’ll be gone. And I’ll just be some girl he broke up with and left behind, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Ellie frowns, a strained mutter of your name called as her hand falls to yours in an attempt to comfort you. “You’ll never know if you don’t try, babe.”

“No, I know.”

It’s all you’ve ever known.

Men who start off treating you like some prized possession - cherishing you, making you feel valued and loved - and the second the shine wears off, the second something even newer, even brighter, even sparklier, crosses their path, they’re gone.

And you’re left behind wondering what it is about you that keeps driving them to leave.

It happened with your dad, with his new wife and their perfect kids - the boys he always wanted, who he never had to force himself to like. The dream family he abandoned you to pursue. It happened with Jamie, with all the girls he saw after you, with the way he never even looked your way again, even after all the secrets you shared, and the promises he made. With all those other boys who never saw you as anything more than a fabricated story to spread for a few brownie points with their buddies in the locker room.

It will happen again.

These feelings you have for Luke - the comfort he gives, the contentment, the ease in conversation, the warmth he bathes you in until your skin prunes and he seeps in through the cracks - they’re better kept to yourself. It’s easier that way, to keep this whole heart under lock and key, not giving anyone a chance to break parts off and keep it for themselves.

It’s almost perfect the way it is.

Safe, even from the clutches of the boy who pieced it back together, brick by laborious brick.

“There isn��t long left of the summer, anyway,” you go for a nonchalant shrug, but your shoulders feel heavy, and it turns out more like an arduous huff. “I doubt he’s shy of female attention back in Jersey, he’ll forget I ever existed before he even knows it.”

“You should talk to him,” Ellie suggests, “At least let him know where you stand, even if it’s to tell him things can’t go further.”

The thought of it is too daunting. Looking into those gleaming green eyes and laying your heart on the line.

You can pretend all you want to Ellie, to yourself, even, that you wouldn’t want more, but you don’t think you could keep up the show with him.

“He deserves at least that.”

And damn it, she’s right.

Maybe he even deserves a proper chance.

Luke never thought he’d regret kissing you for any reason, but he’s wishing he had practiced some restraint up in your room, earlier.

If he hadn’t advanced on you, had let you pack your bag and got you out of the house before Ellie and Jack got back, he could have followed through on his plan of action for the day.

A plan he’d been hyping himself up for, all week - getting you on your own, talking things out, maybe even asking you out. Properly. Not just dinner at the mall, but a real date. Planned, perfected. A fancy dinner, or a trip to the movies. A picnic blanket laid out somewhere with a nice view, and an abundance of your favourite snacks.

He wants to kiss you without having to hide it, anymore.

He wants to walk with you tucked under his arm. Wants to have you in his lap when there’s too many people over at the house, and the group are struggling for space on the couches in the den.

He also sort of wants peace of mind, but what’s that compared to not having to sneak around, anymore.

He’d made his mind up in the morning, waking up beside you at 5am, rousing you from your sleep with soft mutterings of your name, and lips pressed to your cheek until he could feel you smile.

“Hi,” your voice had been croaky, and your movements slow, shuffling against him as your skin became illuminated by the soft glow of the rising sun slipping through the gap in the curtains. Your legs had been tangled with his under the sheets, and you did little to untangle them, and he was tempted to lock his so that you couldn’t.

“Hey,” he mumbled, lips still moving against your skin, nipping at your cheek, your jaw, your throat, and your fingers rose until they clutched at the back of his hair, curls wrapping around them as you held him in place.

“What time is it?”

“Around five,” his own hands landed on your waist, slipping under the hem of your tank, and trying to savour the warmth of your skin, your body hot from being against his all night. “Figured you’d need to be a little earlier today with it being Ellie’s birthday and all.”

“Thank you,” you used your soft grip on his curls to tug, until his face left the crook of your neck, and you blinked softly, smiled sweetly, and he felt his heart beat at twice the normal speed. You leant up and kiss him, straight on the lips, and he smiled against you just as you pulled away.

He felt cold all over as soon as you detached yourself, and he rolled onto his side to watch as you stood, arms raised to stretch and lifting the bottom of your tank top to rise up your belly.

He felt robbed. Like he deserved longer with you, and it had been as you crawled back over your side of his bed, and had kissed him once more before leaving, that he had decided he needed to do something about it.

His original plan had been to steal you away at some point in the night, everyone else too distracted by the party to notice or care, but being teamed up with you to go get decorations seemed like it would work too.

Until Jack came back and fucked his plans up.

Jack said that he would go get the food with Turcs, that he had already paid for a cake, and he had to show his ID when he picked it up. He said Ellie shouldn’t have to do anything, and that you would be the best person for her to do nothing with, which left Luke picking up decorations with Cole.

It wasn’t that he minded Cole’s company, but Cole isn’t you.

He probably could have tucked Cole under his arm as they walked side by side through target and picked up a bunch of of banners and streamers, given the logistics of their height difference, but it wouldn’t have been as cute.

He has managed to get a lot of unexpected information though. And of course, his only thought is that he can’t wait to share it with you.

Cole tells Luke how he and Ellie have only been hanging out all summer to make Jack jealous.

He bites his tongue to refrain from telling him that sort of trick doesn’t work on his brother, but Cole seems too pleased with himself for Luke to rain on his parade, and he finds it kind of funny that everyone’s been working to get the two of them to wake up to their feelings, not just you and him.

Cole might have even ended up putting more effort into it than you and Luke did, acting as a go-between for Jack and Ellie, and raising the stakes for both of them to make a move.

“And what do you get out of any of that?” Luke chuckles as he works at taking the banners out of their plastic wrapping, Cole taking the plastic and putting it straight into the trash.

The smile drops as soon as Cole says your name, though, and Luke’s hands stop in place. “Ellie’s been giving me insider info. I’m primed and ready to make a move.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Luke frowns, “You like her? Since when?”

He tries not to let the panic stirring in his chest reflect on his features, but it’s hard.

Cole and Ellie had been hanging out for a long time, now. He can’t have been into you that whole time, right? Not without saying anything to anyone else - Cole is kind of mouthy, like that. Word would have got back around to Luke if Cole’s liked you for months.

“Since I met her. She’s a really cool girl, really funny.” Cole scoffs, hand reaching out for more trash. “And she’s, like, one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen, you know?”

Of course Luke knows. He’s seen the most beautiful sides to you - soaked head to toe from a garden hose, eyes crinkled from laughter, or the aftermath, curled up on a couch with just-dry hair and heart opening up to him for the very first time. In an orange baseball cap and a Mets jersey, twirling as you exit one of the fitting rooms you had found in the mall, a big cute grin on your face as you allow yourself to dorky with Luke, and only with Luke. Sat out on the fountain at the club, skin bathed in the glistening moonlight and your heart thumping in the palm of his tender hands. Laid beside him in the early hours of the morning, soft snores falling from between your lips and hair splayed out against his pillow.

But he can’t exactly say that to Cole - who has apparently been working to pursue you this entire time without Luke ever catching on.

“Ellie says I’m her type, so I don’t know why I’m stressing about asking her out-,”

“Out like on a date? Like you want to date her?”

Luke knows he sounds like an idiot without Cole giving him the weirded-out look he gives, but he’s starting to lose out to the dread that is flooding the pit of his stomach. He stumbles to follow Cole out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they had set up a step ladder before to hang the decorations.

“You really think I’d be trying so hard if I didn’t?” Cole scoffs, “Catch up, Luke, I’m trying to end my summer with a girlfriend-,”

“She’s hardly girlfriend material.”

The words taste sour in the mouth that moves before his brain has time to think - sour enough that he has to try not to grimace, wishing he could suck them back in and swallow them back down like they never came out.

“What do you mean?” Cole asks, his features dropping into a frown. “I thought you two were getting along.”

“We are,” he agrees, despite it seeming like an understatement, but words are starting to pour out before he can filter them, and he can already feel himself getting carried away. “And she’s a nice enough person, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t think it would work out with her like that.”

“You think she’d be hard work?”

He knows you are. But he likes you that way. He doesn’t want anyone else to worm their way into your good graces like he has.

“Yeah,” he huffs, “She’s always out, and always flirting with guys at the club, you’ve seen it.” He knows he’s pulled that out of his ass, but what else is he supposed to say?

“I think she’s just fishing for tips, Lukey,” Cole chuckles, and Luke’s cheeks flush with humiliation at the pet name. He feels small, like he’s just something that Caufield can steam roll straight over without much protest. “Can’t blame her, some of those guys have deep pockets.”

“I’ve just heard stuff, you know.”

“Like what?”

Jesus Christ, Cole, he thinks, wishing he’d just take his word for it and get over you, already. As if it would ever be that easy. He doesn’t particularly enjoy saying these things out loud - using the words you had so carefully confided in him against you - but there’s a panicked desperation creeping up within him, becoming possible to ignore, and it’s cancelling out all other rational thoughts in his brain.

The second you find out Cole Caufield is interested, you’ll no longer have any need for Luke.

Luke, who your every conversation with starts or ends with some sort of bickering argument, who annoys you to no end, who riles you up like it’s what he was put on this very Earth to do.

Cole is charming, he’s always had an ease when it comes to talking to girls that Luke never quite found in himself, and he’ll win you over in no time - and that’s if you aren’t interested, already.

But Luke is building up to that.

He’s been building up to it all summer.

Even before then, without entirely knowing it.

The two of you have something, even if you refuse to admit it. You wouldn’t have kissed him all those times, otherwise, wouldn’t have come to his bed in the middle of the storm those weeks ago, and almost every night since he came back from Vegas, wouldn’t have slept with him before he left, wouldn’t have begged him to give in to you - not if you weren’t interested in him.

You’ve shared parts of yourself he knows no one’s ever seen, and he can’t let that be for nothing.

But now the rug is being pulled out from under him, and all he can do to cling on to the edges with an idiotic possessiveness that curls his upper lip and brings his heart to a screeching stop.

“Like how she’s with a different guy every week at Michigan. Apparently she gets around.”

“Oh,” Cole frowns, and Luke watches as his face turns, his own fists clenching at the urge to take it all back, to defend her and call Cole out on his immediate shift despite it being his own fault.

He’s made his bed, now. He has to lie in it.

“Ellie didn’t mention all that stuff.”

“She’s hardly gonna call her friend easy.” Luke scoffs, and he thinks the way the words are spat out of his mouth is some sort of reflection of the way his lips don’t want to say them. Like they’re disgusted that his brain would even conceptualise them enough to be spoken. “Especially when you were doing her a favour with the whole Jack thing.”

“I don’t know man, I think you’ve got the wrong idea of her.”

Luke rolls his eyes as Cole makes his way back toward the step ladder, banner in hand, jaw tensing as he scrambles to think of something to stop this.

“She’s not the kind of girl you date,” he manages to call out, despite the tremor in his voice, every fibre of his being fighting the words from being spoken. “And there’s like a month left before we all leave for camp, so if you were to start anything, it would just be for the summer, anyway.”

“Jack and Ellie have started something with just a month left.”

“That’s not the same thing, they’ve been into each other for years, they text and call all the time, nothing’s really changing for them except for a label, you really think you’re gonna keep that up after just a couple months of knowing her?”

He reaches out for the other end of the banner and holds it as Cole positions his side, lip tugged between his teeth and a frown on his face as he mulls Luke’s words over.

“You’ll be in Montreal, and she’ll be here, and you’ll be focusing on hockey, and training, and you won’t have time to keep up something serious with a girl you barely know.”

He tries not to think about how it’s the same distance to Jersey - an almost 2 hour flight - and how he’d be doing the exact same thing, swept up into the season before he knows it and potentially doing nothing but letting you down.

“And you know what she’s like, she’d find something to argue about with a monk, for God’s sake,” he scoffs, brows furrowed so hard he can feel the tension in his forehead, “All you’d get from her is an earache. She’s not worth it.”

Cole turns to narrow his eyes at Luke, but something else over the top of his head catches his attention, instead, and the surprised muttering of your name turns Luke’s blood to ice.

Frozen in place, eyes wide, heart thudding in his ears, he waits with bated breath for something to happen - for Cole to break into a shit-eating grin, and tell him he’s just fucking around. For the ground to swallow him up. For anyone - literally anybody else - to respond.

But your voice carries straight over to him. Travels through his ears, ricochets around the cavern of his skull, shoots down his spine and makes his legs go numb.

“We uhm,” your tone is shaky, and Luke, for the first time, maybe, ever, hates the way you sound. “We were just checking if you needed a hand with the decorations.”

He turns slowly, and it’s Ellie’s eyes he meets first. Pointed, narrowed, betrayed, even, she glares at him like he’s just kicked a wounded animal right in front of her.

“You can’t decorate your own party,” Cole laughs from behind Luke, as Luke’s attention drifts slowly your way.

His eyes meet yours, and he can see the watery glaze over them from across the room. Can see your throat working to gulp down your hurt as your lips twist.

Ellie says something in response, and he vaguely hears Cole speak too, but all that he can focus on is the blood rushing around his head, a whooshing and whirring that makes him feel like his ears are about to pop, or his brain is about to explode. His lips part to speak, to say something, anything, to explain what you had clearly overheard, but your gaze drops to the floor, and he sees your walls build back up right before his eyes, brick by brick, cementing themselves back in place.

He’s such an idiot.

He’s such a monumental asshole.

The last time he had seen tears in your eyes had been sat by the fountain at the club - he had wiped them away, and had promised you he had your back, and you had just caught him having anything but with Cole. And all that after you had told him why you had ever been hesitant to let anyone in the first place.

He doesn’t think he’s ever messed up like this.

He steps forward, unsteady on his feet, and you step back, still not able to look him in the eye again, before turning on your heel and making your way upstairs.

Luke hears the stomp of your feet as you go, watches Ellie go after you, wishing it could be him, and stands, motionless, until he feels a firm pat on his back.

“Don’t worry, man,” Cole says, “She’s cool, she’ll be over it after a couple of drinks.”

Luke doesn’t even think he says anything coherent when he responds, a grunt or a grumble - it can’t have been words, because he can’t even form them in his brain.

“I’m gonna ask her out tonight, anyway,” Cole chuckles, “So what you said won’t even mean anything.”

Great.

He’s just fucked things up with one of the greatest people in his life, the girl of his dreams, and it doesn’t even mean anything.

Not the kind of girl you date.

Not worth it.

All that from the boy who supposedly had your back not that long ago. The first guy in a long time, maybe even ever, to make you feel secure, and safe, and like you could trust someone again.

Luke thinks you’re an earache.

He thinks you’re argumentative, and only worthy of a brief, summer fling - that keeping up anything with you when he goes home would be a waste of the time and energy he should be dedicating to hockey.

And he’s probably right, you think.

It’s only what you’ve been telling yourself in the back of your mind all summer. Self-deprecating thoughts about how he’s far too good for you, and you’re only interesting when he can’t have you, and he’ll get tired of you before you can even realise he’s already drifted off.

Ellie had told you all the way back in your freshman year that the two of you weren’t a good fit. Jack had been telling Luke the same all summer. And you had only just managed to convince yourself otherwise on the drive back to the lake house from the mall.

You can hardly blame him for being two steps ahead.

You think that’s why you can’t bring yourself to cry - the sting of tears prickling persistently but never pushing through, eyes watering so much you can’t even put on mascara without the fear of it trickling down your face and ruining the rest of your makeup.

You’d tried crying, before. Had ran up to your room and had sat on the other side of your bed, hidden from the door and knees pressed to your chest. Your breath had stuttered, and your lips had trembled, but the tears wouldn’t fall, try as you might to have made them.

And when Ellie had found you, had sat beside you with an arm stretched over your shoulders, you had tried, then, too.

And it would be your luck that as soon as you press the inky substance into your lashes that they would finally fall, so you’ve been sat trying to wish them away for the past ten minutes - the tube clutched in a death grip in your hands as you sit at the makeshift vanity you and Ellie had set up all those weeks ago when you had moved in, taking deep breaths and willing the hurt to go away.

It’s where Luke finds you after knocking with no response - you barely remember hearing it - shuffling wordlessly into the room and perching himself down behind you on the edge of the bed.

You see him in the mirror, your eyes darting away before his can meet them in the reflection, and you stiffen your shoulders, bracing yourself for the blow.

“I didn’t mean any of what you heard.”

You breathe out a humourless chuckle, bitterness settling into the pit of your stomach and your lips trembling with resistance.

“I mean it, I don’t think those things about you, I promise, I-,”

“It doesn’t even matter,” you cut him off with a roll your eyes, pushing the mascara tube toward the mirror and figuring you’re just gonna go without.

“I was panicking, and it just came out like word vomit, and I feel really sick about it, and really stupid, and I wish I could take it all back-,”

“I said it doesn’t matter.” You meet his eyes this time, trying not to fall for just how distraught he looks behind you in the mirror.

“Of course it matters,” he frowns, and you look away as soon as he pushes himself up, knowing he’s coming for you. “I need you to know that I would never have said those things-,”

“You said them, Luke,” you scoff, “What do you mean you would never have said them, you literally did.”

“I know-,”

“It doesn’t matter-,”

“Can you stop saying that!” He frowns, appearing at the side of you, hands gripping your shoulders to get you to face him. “I’m trying to explain this to you, I’m trying to fix things, and you’re-,”

“What, giving you an earache?”

All those weeks ago, the backs of your legs sticking to the bench in the booth in the restaurant, leaning over the table and sparring back and forth with him, you had convinced yourself that he liked it.

That the glint in his eye was indication of as much, the twitch at the corner of his lips, the way he would bite back without a second to think about it, and had matched your every effort to get one over on him.

You had thought the two of you had something real. Something you had never found with anyone else. Quick wit, and similar senses of humour, shared boundaries, a mutual level of respect.

You had thought his persistence had been something that would stick.

And clearly, you thought wrong.

He whispers out an utterance of your name that hurts like fingers wrapped around your throat - clenching and squeezing until you go hot in the head.

“I keep saying it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t, Luke. You were right, we wouldn’t have been able to keep this up past the summer, anyway.”

Luke’s brows furrow your way, eyes darting between yours as his lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You’re going back to Jersey soon, I’m going back to school, it was fun while it lasted but things have run their course.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“We both do.” You shrug, wearing your feigned indifference like armour, just like you know so well to do. “You don’t say the things you said on a whim, Luke, some part of you has to believe that they’re true.”

“I don’t-,”

“I’m giving you a chance to cut things off with no hard feelings-,”

“No hard feelings?” His disbelief cuts through you a little, the hurt in his eyes and the scrunch of his features, too, but if you give in, now, you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt.

You had barely just built up the courage to give your heart to him, in whatever shape he had scrunched and squeezed it into before, and he had already managed to bruise it. Giving in will only result in it breaking.

“I have feelings. I have feelings for you. And I know you have feelings for me, too, you can’t pretend you don’t-,”

“It doesn’t-,”

“It matters.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this - so sure, so serious, so raw - and when he takes a hold of your face, hands cupping your jaw, tender but firm, and forces you to look at him, you see the same in his features. “Cole is into you. And he said he was gonna ask you out, and I panicked trying to convince him not to. I should have had faith that you would have turned him down. And I should have been honest, and I should have told him that I’m into you. More than into you, I think I-,”

“I wouldn’t have turned him down.”

You lie with such ease that it makes your heart ache more than the truth, but it’s the only thing you can do to protect it.

If you let Luke carry on, you’ll let him back in.

You can’t let him back in.

Not with the tears that now well his eyes, or the way his face drops like you’ve just struck him in the gut - pained and powerless.

“What?”

Your hands shake in your lap so much you have to clench them shut, knuckles turning white as Luke’s touch slips from your skin.

“If he asked me out, I would have said yes.”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, blinking repeatedly before he tears his gaze away from yours, and you feel like you can see his walls building - a sight that should flood you with relief, but doesn’t.

“So, what, everything we’ve been through together, all the things we’ve done, all the things we’ve said, you’re just gonna throw it all away like none of it matters?”

You can hear the hurt - can feel it even, clawing at your skin as if it’s trying to find a way to dig past the barriers you’ve put in place.

But you have to do this.

“I guess not.”

Luke was always going to hurt you. Was going to burrow himself through whatever cracks you left bare to him, weasel his way into your heart and tear it from the inside out. And maybe you were always going to do the same to him.

“Alright then,” he mutters, robotic and distant, with his eyes stuck on the floor.

He stands from where he had been crouched beside you, backing away before turning completely, and he walks away in long strides, the door to your bedroom closing with a soft click behind him.

The tear that falls when he’s gone does so slowly. You feel it trail all the way down your cheek from the corner of your eye, until it drops, almost audibly, from your jaw and onto your lap.

And then the rest follow, uncontrollable and unrelenting.

Inevitable, just like he had said.

A/N: so...... please don't hate me I wrote the ending first lmao!! I imagine this will cause riots in the streets tbh but please let me know what you think hahahah this whole story has become my baby!! she's problematic but she's mine!!!!

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #*writing #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes fanfiction

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maddie0101 · 23 days ago

Text

Jealousy and Baby’s backseat

Summary: y/n has had enough of Dean flirting with other women. (Even though he is only her best friend)..so she takes matters into her own hands and makes a decision that will ultimately alter her and Dean’s relationship forever.

Warnings: smut (mdni), jealous!dean, jealous!reader, p in v, dirty talk, v fingering, semi-public sex, angry!dean, fluff, slight choking, sex in the back of baby (hehe), only my 4th time writing smut so I’m sorry if it’s bad. Also, not proof read so lmk if you see something wacky :b (Also my first ever dean fic! yay! Hopefully many more to come)

Word count: 3.6k

You were so done.

Being hopelessly in love with Dean and having to watch him flirt with other women everyday was starting to become exhausting. So as you sat there in one of the bar’s booths with Sam, you had come to the conclusion that you were done.

“Y/n?” Sam called out your name, snapping you out of your anger filled daydream. “You okay?”

“Yeah, uh I just gotta take care of something..” You quickly got up from the booth and spotted the guy from earlier that had been flirting with you. At first you gave him hardly any attention because all your attention was solely set on Dean but as the bright idea popped into your head, you decided it was his lucky day.

Dean’s pov

The chick in-front of Dean was starting to bore him if he was being honest. She was hot, don’t get him wrong but she wasn’t the woman that plagued Dean’s mind 24/7. If he was being honest with himself, Dean wanted y/n more than anything in the world but the fear of rejection and their relationship shifting into anything else but romantic stopped him in his tracks. In his mind, y/n deserved so much better than him. Who would want to deal with all the baggage he came with?

“So do you wanna get out of here?” The blonde woman in-front of Dean purred, raising her hand up to tug on the collar of his flannel.

Dean nervously laughed, before his eyes drifted back over to the booth y/n and Sam were sitting at, noticing y/n pushing herself up from the booth. Y/n’s determined and angry orbs locked onto Dean’s for a split second before she confidently strode over to some guy at the bar. Noticing it was the guy that had been flirting with y/n earlier on in the night, Dean’s curiosity turned into something else as he watched his best friend stomp up to the man.

His brows furrowed as he watched y/n tap on the man’s shoulder, but as the guy quickly spun around not able to even get a single word out of his mouth, y/n yanked the guy by the shirt and smashed her lips onto his.

Complete shock and anger quickly surged through Dean’s frame. A pit of poison bubbled in the eldest Winchester’s stomach as he watched the scene before him. He was truly at loss for words. Y/n hardly ever took anyone home, more or less made out with a stranger in a bar.

Y/n’s pov

He tasted like cigarettes and cheap tequila. Two things y/n hated.

But hey, at least he was a good kisser. You sighed into the kiss as the guy whose name you forgot deepened the kiss and tugged you a little closer to him. He wasn’t Dean but he would do the trick for the night.

After a second or two ‘Levi’? you think his name is pauses, causing the two of you to break apart. “See you finally came around..” Levi shot you a smirk, making your stomach twist for some odd reason. “Wanna get out of here?” He asked, causing a you to give him a small nod.

Levi was the one to make the move next, grabbing you by the back of your neck and smashing his lips onto yours.

Before the kiss could get too heated again, a large hand roughly yanked you away, causing you to let out a surprised yelp in response.

“It’s time to go.” Dean’s tone sent shivers down your spine. He looked absolutely livid.

Cocking your head to the side you ripped your arm out of his grasp and shot Dean a smirk. “No it okay…” you played innocent. “Me and…Levi here are about to leave. Don’t count on me come back to the motel till tomorrow.” You shot Dean a wink before ‘Levi’ broke the thick tension.

“It’s actually Liam…” The guy corrected, making your mouth form into a O before you turned back to look at Dean. “Liam and I are leaving..see you later Dean!” You snickered as you grabbed Liam by the bicep and led him out of the bar, leaving a very angry Dean behind.

Truthfully, you didn’t know why Dean was so pissed. He had that woman he was talking to the whole night, so what crawled up his ass? He obviously was going to be taking her home and wouldn’t show up until the next morning. Talking to Sam about if she was good in bed or not in the Impala always pissed you off. It was like he was trying to get a rise out of you. Every time he would go on about his sexcapades you’d always quickly reach for your bag and pop your earbuds in, blasting music to drown out the information Dean was spilling.

It hurt more than anything to watch Dean come back to the motel the next morning looking all disheveled. He’d always have hickeys littering his neck and maybe a few lipstick stains here and there. You wanted nothing more than to be the cause of those marks on his skin but he would only ever see you as his best friend…

Which now leads to why you were on the outside of the bar, caged in between Liam’s arms, pinned against the brick wall of the bar, making out with a guy you barely knew. Just as the kiss started heating up again, Liam yelped as someone grabbed the back of his jacket and threw him onto the hard ground a few feet away.

Shock initially spread across your face as you ripped your gaze away from Liam to the culprit, a very angry looking Dean. The sight before you sent a chill down your spine as you noted the vein that always popped out of Dean’s forehead prominent, indicating he was absolutely livid. Large calloused hands were in fists by his sides and the look on Dean’s face caused y/n to shift a little under his gaze.

“What the hell Dean?” Y/n angrily shouted at her best friend. “What is your fucking problem?” Y/n stepped forward and shoved Dean’s chest but it was like pushing a brick wall, he didn’t move an inch.

Dean stayed dead silent before gripping y/n’s upper arm tightly and dragging her with him. Y/n’s feet tried to gain traction to stop Dean from dragging her away from her fun for the night but to no avail. Finally reaching the impala parked on the opposite side of the parking lot, y/n groaned as she knew Dean was taking her back to the motel and ruining her fun.

Letting go of her arm to open the passenger side door for her, Dean ushered her in but y/n stood off to the side with her arms crossed over her chest, angry.

“Get in.” Dean nodded towards the impala, still fuming.

“No.” Y/n keep her chin up

“Y/n get in the damn car before I lose my shit.” Dean grit his teeth, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Where’s Sammy?”

“He got another ride home.” Dean answered flatly, “now get in.”

Dumbfounded, y/n’s jaw fell open. “You have got to be kidding me!” The girl’s hand flew up, “Sam even gets to have fun tonight but I don’t? Seriously, Dean?”

“We’ll talk about this later y/n.” Dean pressed his lips together, nodding towards the car again. “Get in.”

Realizing you weren’t going to win this one, you let out an exasperated sigh before sliding past Dean and plopping down into the passenger seat. Dean closed the door behind you and once again pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. After calming himself down a bit, Dean finally rounded baby and hopped into the driver’s seat, ignoring y/n’s piercing gaze burning a hole through his head.

Pulling out of the parking lot with his grip on the steering wheel tight, Dean sighed before finally glancing over to y/n.

“I am your best friend, Dean. Not your freaking little sister. I am so tired of you and Sam being able to go home with whoever you want, whenever you want. I have needs too you know? What… you get to get your dick wet every freaking week but I can’t get some dick once in a freaking blue moon?!” Y/n’s face turned red as she ranted, “It’s exhausting honestly. You’re such a—“Y/n quickly stopped mid sentence as Dean roughly pulled baby over to the side of the road, making the tires squeal from the sudden motion.

Y/n quietly gasped as Dean quickly got out of the car and walked around to her side. Noting the lack of any structures or anything around them y/n’s heart skipped a beat as she realized they were in the middle of no where.

Yanking the door to her side open, Dean nodded for y/n to get out of the car. “Out.”

“Wha..Dean were in the middle of no where!” Y/n tried as she pushed herself out of the vehicle only to be pinned to the side of the impala as soon as she stepped out.

“De-“

“You really think I think of you as my little sister?” Dean’s tone dropped, causing y/n to swallow a thick lump in her throat as dark green eyes stared back at her with something she couldn’t quite grasp. Her heart sunk a little at Dean’s words, y/n’s mind reeled as she thought he meant he didn’t care about her as much as she thought he did. What else could he be saying? He couldn’t think of her like she thought of him, right?

“I guess I—no?” Y/n had absolutely no clue what to say, completely lost.

“Do you wanna know why I’m always with someone?” Dean’s questions, his eyebrow raising. “Hmm?”

Y/n takes in a shaky breath as she glances up from Dean’s eyes to his pink lips held between his teeth, not realizing Dean had caught her staring. Leaning in a little closer and making y/n’s gaze snap back up to his dark gaze, Dean whispers “it’s cause I’m trying to get you out of my head. You’re every thought that goes through my mind, y/n. I can’t even wake up without you being the first thought in my head and the last when I fall asleep. But I know you’re off limits..” y/n watches as Dean’s gaze falls to her lips, noticing the way his once green eyes are almost black.

Swallowing another lump in her throat as her own eyes softened at Dean looking at her in a way she’d never seen before and only imagined in her dreams, y/n’s voice came out shaky. “Why am I off limits?”

Dean sighed before licking his bottom lip, “because you’re my best friend and you deserve better than me.” His voice softened as he spoke the last few words.

“Dean….” Y/n softly shook her head, “what are you talking about? I don’t deserve you? Are you even listening to yourself? You are the most kind hearted, brave, funny, charming, and most lovable person I know.” Y/n’a gaze reconnected with Dean’s soft but dark gaze, just now realizing exactly what that look meant. “It’s why I fell in love with you.” Y/n whispered, praying she hadn’t just ruined everything between them.

Dean froze at y/n’s words, never in his life had he expected to hear that come out of her mouth. “You love me?” Dean’s voice sounded scratchy and low, causing panic to rise through y/n’s chest.

Knowing this could either be the end of their relationship or beginning of something new and beautiful y/n lifted her head. “I love you, Dean. Look I get if you don’t feel the sam-“ y/n’s suddenly interrupted by Dean’s lips on hers.

Completely caught off guard, y/n’s frozen for a second before she melts into the kiss. Electricity shoots through their bodies as the kiss starts out slow and sensual. Dean’s hands find their way to the base of y/n’s throat to pull her closer, earning a soft moan to escape from her lips. A groan of satisfaction vibrates Dean’s chest at the noise he caused her to make. Breaking away from the kiss Dean cups both sides of y/n’s face and smiles softly before whispering “I love you too.”

Upon hearing Dean’s confession, y/n’s heart swells as a fire starts in her chest, lighting something deep within her she never knew existed. Before either one of them could say another word, y/n quickly sprang forward and closed the small gap between the two, smashing her lips roughly onto Dean’s. The girl’s arms snaked up his chest to wrap around his neck, ultimately pulling him closer towards her as Dean tightly grasped y/n’s hips bringing her closer towards him so he could slide his knee in between her legs.

Y/n’s fingers thread through Dean’s short hair as heat pools within her core. Each kiss shared between the two becomes more and more desperate and hungry as their lips smack together. Dean’s tongue darts out and slides along y/n’s bottom lip asking for entry, granting him access y/n sighs as Dean finds his way through her mouth. Another moan escapes from y/n’s mouth as Dean puts more pressure on her core with his knee, letting her rock her hips on him.

Knowing this is going exactly where he is thinking Dean quickly breaks away from y/n’s lips, not missing the way she almost pouted and whined at the loss. Yanking the back passenger side door open, Dean grabs y/n by her waist and pulls her to the back of the impala. Watching as she crawls backwards to lay down Dean quickly sheds his tshirt and jacket before closing the door behind him.

Immediately dipping to plant sloppy kisses to y/n’s neck Dean groans as y/n palms the bulge in his jeans. “God I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve only dreamed about the sounds you can make and the way you taste.”

Y/n sighed into the kiss as Dean reconnected his lips onto hers. “Dean I need you.” Y/n whines, between breaths.

“Sorry sweetheart but we’re takin this time slow.” Dean managed to get out in between kisses, bringing his hand down to the hem of y/n’s shirt and pulling it over her head. “I want to kiss every inch of your body, taste how sweet you are, and then watch you come again on my dick.”

As soon as Dean’s eyes met the sight of her breasts plump and deliciously pushed up by the way her bra was holding her, Dean could only imagine how perfect they looked without the bra and urgently needed to get his hands on them.

Just the way Dean was talking dirty to her sent butterflies tickling the insides of y/n’s stomach. She knew Dean was a flirt and figured he’d be sexy in bed but never thought he had such a dirty mouth. But two can play that game and y/n could make him beg for her instead.

“Maybe you should use that dirty little mouth of yours to-“ Dean quickly stopped y/n with his lips, taking the time she’s distracted to reach one hand behind her back and unclasp her bra in one swift motion. Shock quickly flashed through y/n’s eyes before Dean ripped the bra off. As if his eyes couldn’t possibly darken, Dean’s emerald green eyes shifted to black. His pupils completely overwhelming the color y/n so dearly loves.

Dean instantly groans at the sight of y/n’s breasts, immediately connecting his lips to a nipple as his large hands start to knead through the plush and soft skin. “Oh sweetheart….” Dean pauses between licking and sucking, “I really didn’t think you’d be even more beautiful than you already are. God you are so gorgeous. S’all mine.”

“All yours, D.” Y/n moaned as Dean had somehow slipped a hand into her jeans and started rubbing circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Usually she wasn’t this sensitive or turned on. Absolutely nobody had the same effect of her as Dean. Y/n has to bite down on her lip to hold back the moans of pleasure but Dean notices. “Don’t hold back baby, I wanna hear you.”

Pulling her panties to the side, Dean slips a digit into her slick and wet core, eliciting a loud moan to escape from y/n’s throat. Truly, she had no idea she could even make such pornographic noises before this. Rocking her hips down on his hand as Dean kisses his way back up to her lips, y/n whines as he slowly slips another finger into her core, loving nothing more than the feeling of Dean’s fingers hitting her G-spot.

Grinning at the sounds she is making and almost coming apart from underneath him, Dean’s raspy voice speaks up again. “Come for me on my fingers and then I want you to come around my cock.” He quickly reconnects their lips just as y/n feels that burning sensation growing inside her core, focusing on the way his fingers glide in and out of her pussy so roughly.

“De-aan.” Is all y/n manages to get out before completely coming undone underneath the man she loves. Y/n’s stomach coils as her stomach tightens, moaning Dean’s name over and over as he rides her through her high.

“God you’re even more beautiful coming around my fingers baby.” Dean whispers in her ear as she slowly comes down from her high.

Slowly as y/n came back to the present, she quickly fiddles with Dean’s belt attempting to take it off. “Hurry up Dean I need you now.” Y/n says, causing Dean to laugh a bit as he helps her get his jeans off. Leaving him in just his boxers, y/n slowly slips her hand into the tight fabric and grabs him, slowly and softly stoking him. “I want you to come inside me D, I don’t want you to hold back. I’m on the pill so we’re okay.”

Dean only nods before ripping his boxers off, letting his dick spring free. Y/n’s eyes widen at the size of him, wanting nothing more than him inside her watering mouth. Slowly leaning down to tease him, y/n licks a stripe up his shaft all while keeping her eyes locked on his.

“Oh yeah. I’m marrying you.” Dean cocks his head to the side before pushing y/n back to lay down and ripping her jeans and panties off so she is completely bare along with him. “You’re all mine baby.” Dean lines himself up with y/n’s entrance before slowly pushing himself inside. “God you’re so wet and s’tight for me.” Dean groans as he bottoms out, finally connecting his gaze to y/n who is biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Y/n’s eyes quickly roll into the back of her head as Dean pulls out and slams back into her again, eliciting a loud moan. “Yes!” Y/n moans, “more Dean, give it to me.”

Dean quickly sets the pace and slams in and out of y/n whist she screams his name. Dean curses in between thrusts and groans each time y/n’s hips roll up to meet his. “I’m not going to last much longer.” Dean admits

“Me either.” Y/n manages to get out between moans, “come with me.”

A growl rumbles through Dean’s chest, loving the way her mouth is so dirty for only him, “Such a good girl, y/n. Now come all my cock while I fill you up.”

Just as Dean’s words filled y/n’s ear a loud moan ripped through the impala as y/n came hard, repeating his name over and over again like a prayer. The feeling of her pulsing around him sends Dean to fall out of rhythm as he sloppily snaps his hips against hers. His face buries into her neck as he feels himself unravel inside of her, the feeling of warm liquid filling her insides as the two turn into a moaning mess, painting her inner walls white.

Sweat rolls down both of the hunter’s foreheads as they lay there for a second, catching their breath.

“Holy shit.” Y/n laid beneath a panting Dean, still attempting to catch his breath.

“Didn’t take you for the dirty type..” Dean finally admits, absolutely loving it. “But I love you and that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Y/n laughed a bit before connecting her gaze to Dean’s. “Trust me that was very mild of me. Just wait. I didnt want to scare you.”

“I’m here for it sweetheart. Don’t worry. Next time don’t hold anything back.”

“Oh I won’t.” Y/n softly smiled before cupping the sides of Dean’s face to bring him into a loving kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” Dean whispers, a grin plastered over his face before he looks down between the both of them. “Wanna go another round?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Hell yeah I do. Get over here Winchester.” Y/n giggles as Dean leans down to smash his lips onto hers, still not over the feeling. Truthfully, he doesn’t think he will ever get used to the feeling of her soft and plump lips on his but at least she’s his now.

Author’s note: hi guys! I really hope you enjoyed his little fic I wrote! I do apologize if the smut isn’t up to par but I’m slowly learning how to write it. I hope if you did like the fic you’ll send some love my way. I should be writing more Dean fics here in the future but for now I hope this fic is decent!

(I wrote this within 5 hrs and have not read back over it bc I’ve been too excited to post) I will maybe later, don’t know..🤷🏽‍♀️

xx maddie

#dean Winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean Winchester x fem!reader #supernatural #spnfandom #I did Sam so dirty I’m so sorry #dean winchester smut #Dean Winchester x y/n

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stxneflxwers · 2 months ago

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OMGGG SO I HAD THIS IDEA WHILE COMING HOME SO HEAR ME OUTTT!!!

Aventurine x Reader but!!!

Enemies in public and lovers in private ;)

(since I'm done seeing friends in public and lovers in private, like i wanna see something interesting (and not because it's my fav trope lol) 🫣👀🔥)

So,

Aventurine and the reader have a dynamic where, in public, they appear to be bitter enemies—perhaps they engage in witty banter, rivalry, etc for some greater goal. But behind closed doors, they’re secretly lovers, and their interactions shift to something far more intimate, tender, and affectionate. There’s a lot of tension as they have to keep their true feelings hidden from others, but when they’re alone, they let their guard down completely, showing a side of themselves that only the other knows. It could include moments of quiet affection, stolen kisses, or vulnerable confessions 🥺💖

Pretty boy 🥺🫶

cyclicality.

⋯⁂ summary. enemies make the sweetest lovers.

⋯⁂ authors note. hopefully this turned out ok LOL. it's been a hot minute since i've written enemies but secretly lovers (or even the regular enemies to lovers.. lol) hfdghkjgfkhjgdf. also, for the record to anyone else reading this and wondering why tf im taking a request: this isn't a random request, im moots with @aventurineswife and had asked them to offer some ideas for me to write 🥺😏 teehee

⋯⁂ characters. aventurine x gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. banter. physical affection. hurt/comfort-ish?? secret lovers.

"You know, I'm a simple man, really – I like long walks along the beach, hot coffee in the morning, and..."

Aventurine sidles up to you, sliding his arms along the balcony railing of the restaurant.

"And, let me guess... Annoying the hell out of me?" You finish for him, a wry smirk on your lips as you lean over the railing with your arms dangling over the cold metal.

"Oh, but of course! How could I possibly forget that?" He grins back, but there's a warm shimmer in it, "It's my favorite pastime, after all." He chuckles.

"Is it now? I never could've guessed," You roll your eyes, but it was never borne of disdain. "What are you even doing over here? You're the Director, go enjoy the party." You huff, removing your arms from the railing to grab your drink from the nearby table.

"Aww, you're no fun," He teases, continuing to lean back against the railing, "...Besides, you're the one over here isolating. I ought to make sure all of my team members are having plenty of fun, yeah?"

"Uhh," You check your silver watch wrapped around your wrist, "Last time I checked, which was precisely two seconds ago – you hardly ever care who was or wasn't having fun." You retort playfully, your wry smirk still present.

"Well, I'll have you know that I do care very much..." He steps up to you, slowly cornering you between the table and railing, "...when it comes to you."

You two had to put up the fake rivalry, the fake game of cat and mouse for far too long that night. By the time you return to Aventurine's penthouse, you're damn near draping your entire body on him. Instead, you unceremoniously plop yourself onto the plush, lavish white sofa in the living room – wishing the rascal was there next to you.

"Want something to drink?" He asks, stepping up to you and tentatively reaching out, running a hand over your head.

"Only if it's water," You inform tiredly, your voice a lazy drawl, "I sincerely hope you don't plan on drinking more."

"Well, when you say that, I don't think I will." He chuckles weakly.

After drinking some water, you pull him down onto the sofa next to you – giving him a weary stare and a tiny frown.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He asks, and the pet name doesn't sound mocking like it would around other people, but it's full of pure, unbridled adoration.

"...I miss you." You mutter before wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into the side of his chest.

He instinctively puts one hand on your entangled arms and the other on your head, rubbing lazy, absent-minded circles. He sighs softly and smiles, one that's so soft yet so genuine. His eyes even crinkle a little at the corners as a sliver of love glimmers in his multicolored hues.

"I missed you, too." He whispers back, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

And this is when he knows that this is where he'd like to spend the rest of his life – right in your arms, safe and warm and loved.

#🌠— my works #🌠— fluff #🌠— hurt/comfort #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine fluff #aventurine x reader #💕— aventurine

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starsinthesky5 · 10 months ago

Text

you are in love | joe burrow x reader

description: how did you end up falling head over heels for the quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals? but most importantly, how did the quarterback end up falling harder for you?

a/n: this is my first fic ever so bare with me! i’m still getting the hang of writing about joe. i have tried a few times but ended up deleting them because I didn’t like how they turned out LOL. buttt I got bored and got a little confidence and decided to try again. i hope you all like it (if anyone even reads this). this is based off of one of my favorite songs ever and I thought it would make a nice fic. i hope its not too cringe, enjoy :)

warnings: slight smut and allusions to sex, language

word count: 5.5 k

part 2

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

present day:

One look, Dark Room

Meant just, For you

Time moved too fast, You play it back

“And that should do it,” Joe says as he places the final pillow onto the fort.

“Didn’t know you had “architect” in your job portfolio. This is impressive,” you giggled as you got into the fort.

“No need for the flattery babe, gotta make sure your first night here is comfy so you come back,” Joe replied while draping a blanket over your legs.

“Oh I’ll be back, someone has to use the massive pool, and knowing you, you won’t go in there without me,” you said while thinking about all the exciting things you’ll get to do with him at his new house.

“You got that right, but you’re the one who needs to hang on to me and use me as her personal flotation device,” he says as he settles on the pillows across from you.

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t be so huggable Mr. Burrow,” you say before throwing a pillow at him.

Today was you and Joe’s 6 month anniversary. You two had spent the entire day moving Joe into his new house that he bought when he signed his extension. There were boxes everywhere and hardly any furniture set up, so Joe ended up building a blanket fort for the night. He spent every free moment apologizing for not being able to do something romantic for your anniversary, but you didn’t mind. Any moment with him was special.

“Thank you for helping me out today, I know you probably didn’t think we’d be spending most of the weekend doing this when I asked you to come to Cincinnati,” He said as he was fidgeting with his wristbands.

You lived all the way in Los Angeles and were currently in the middle of working on your 3rd studio album. You were in desperate need of a break and inspiration, so you jumped on the first flight to Cincinnati to see your favorite person.

“Joe, you've apologized enough. Seriously, it’s perfectly fine. You know that I don’t care about the fancy dates and over-the-top gestures. Any time we get to spend together means the world to me, even if it involves carefully moving your extensive Lego collection to the new house,” you chuckle while rubbing his foot.

Joe’s heart was exploding while you were talking. He seriously doesn’t understand how he got so lucky. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he wanted to do everything possible to show you. But the one thing he adored most about you was that you didn’t care for all the glitz and glamor of dating an NFL quarterback. And you loved that he didn’t care about your Hollywood status or all the attention you’d get from the public.

Joe got up on his knees and crawled over to the spot next to you. Once he sat down, you immediately latched onto him and buried yourself into his neck, missing the warmth of his body.

“See, you’re so huggable,” you murmured against his neck.

You heard him softly laugh and felt his hand move up your side, squeezing your arm. “How did I get so lucky” you wondered to yourself.

——————————————————

first meeting:

Buttons on a coat, Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

Flashback to July 4th: The Hamptons, New York

You dreaded going to the big 4th of July bash hosted by Micheal Rubin every year, but as an up-and-coming musician, saying “No” to this kind of party would be stupid given the number of connections you could make. The party would always have the most elite Celebrities, Models, Musicians, and Athletes; meaning a lot of small talk and fake laughing. This would be your third time going, and every time you end up sitting in the corner, alone with your way too strong Vodka Martini, counting down the minutes until you could leave. But this year, something was different.

You did end up sitting in the corner with your way too-strong Martini, but you weren't alone. And you certainly weren't counting down the minutes until you could leave. Hell, you were even wishing this night would never end.

“What happens to Football Players when they become blind?” he asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you replied.

“They become referees,” he said while smirking.

“Joe! You can’t say that!” you wheezed out. You couldn't contain your laughter any longer. You weren’t sure if it was because of the Martini, or the fact that Joe Burrow was sitting next to you, also drinking a Vodka Martini.

“Hey, it’s the truth, but you didn’t hear that from me,” Joe said while throwing his hands up.

“You got it Mr. QB1, but I do agree; it’s such BS when they miss the most clear calls,” you giggled.

You weren’t really sure how you and Joe ended up basically spending the entire party by each other's side. One minute you're about to sit and scroll on your phone as usual, and the next thing you know you’re telling your life story to a guy you just met. Were you a little buzzed, absolutely. But something about him made you feel comfortable and safe, even though you just met.

“You’re really cool by the way,” Joe whispered.

“Gee, aren’t you Shakespeare,” you smiled and took another sip of your drink.

“Seriously though. The entire time we've been sitting here, not once did you purposefully bring up the fact that I’m an NFL quarterback. Not many girls can talk to me without bringing up football or trying to flirt with me. It’s exhausting,” he confessed but quickly realized how cocky he sounds. “Not that every girl tries to flirt with me,” he added.��

You laughed and said, “Well, lucky for you I find more value in real conversations than all that superficial stuff. I totally understand the feeling, I love talking to people about my music but after a certain point I just want to talk about normal things and have real conversation,”

I do think it’s cool that you’re a football player since I grew up watching it, but I want to know more about you, not the quarterback,” you continue.

“Well then Miss Y/N, I’m in New York for a few more days, let me take you out to dinner so you can get to know the real Joe a little more,” he boldly asked.

You stared into his deep blue eyes, eyes you wouldn’t mind getting lost in. Something about those eyes was promising. You’ve only just met him and for all you know, he could be a typical “Fuck Boy athlete” looking for a quick hookup. There was nothing to attest to what he was saying, but part of you was willing to take the risk. Something about him felt different.

“Earth to Y/N-”

“Okay,” was all you said.

Little did you know that saying yes to Joe was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made.

——————————————————

early dating:

Small talk, he drives

Coffee at midnight

The light reflects, The chain on your neck

He says, “Look up”, And your shoulders brush

No proof, one touch, But you felt enough

Flashback to your first time visiting Joe in Cincinnati

It had been a few weeks since you and Joe had dinner together and he had been nothing but a gentleman. The two of you talked about everything from your childhoods to your current aspirations, to your favorite music, and even geeking out about Marvel Movies plus everything nerdy. Joe made you feel good about yourself. He would always tell you how pretty you looked and paid the most attention whenever you would talk. He made you feel butterflies, something which you hadn’t felt in a long time.

After you left New York, the two of you couldn’t stop talking to each other. The silly conversations eventually turned into deep ones; you telling him things you’ve only shared with a select number of people. You felt comfortable when you were talking to him, so this wasn’t difficult for you. He shared things with you about himself that he would only share with those close to him, which was very few since he kept a tight circle. You both shared a mutual feeling of trust, willing to lay yourself bare just to get to know one another. You’d always text him after a vigorous studio sesh to vent and he would update you on his off-season progress. Those texts eventually turned into late-night facetimes, which ended up in Joe asking you to fly out and see him. You hesitated a bit before saying yes. In the back of your mind, you were scared. You knew that the more you two talked and saw one another, the more attached you’d get. He could break your heart into a thousand pieces if you weren’t careful. But you owed it to yourself and to Joe to try.

You hummed along to whatever song was playing on the radio as you looked out the window and watched the bright city skyline fade. It was currently midnight in Cincinnati and Joe insisted that he take you to his favorite secret spot on your first trip here.

“You tired?” Joe asked as he glanced over to you, taking in every one of your features.

God you looked so pretty, he thought. You were wearing one of his old Athens Football hoodies and had your hair in a messy bun. You weren’t wearing any makeup and even had on a pair of his slides, which were a few sizes too big. Even in your most natural state, he looked at you like you were a diamond.

“A little. Didn’t get a lot of sleep on the plane,” you yawned out.

“I promise this will be worth it,” Joe said as he placed his hand on your bare thigh.

You immediately tensed up at the foreign contact. Joe felt you tense up and went to remove his hand but you put it right back on your thigh and felt your face turning red. Your stomach was doing somersaults right now.

“Those damn butterflies,” you thought to yourself.

“So, how’s the album coming along?” Joe casually questioned as if he didn’t just make you want to scream out of excitement.

“It’s good, slow, but making progress. I feel like I’ve hit a dead end and am having major writer's block so I think stepping away from it for a little bit will be good for me. Things were getting a bit stuffy and loud. I feel like I was getting somewhere but it always ends up being nothing,” you say as you place your hand on top of his, playing with his fingers.

“That’s good, I hope this weekend will be a breath of fresh air for you. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Always remember that you’re doing your best,”

You looked over at Joe and felt your heart swell up. He knew exactly what to say and how to make a girl feel special.

~10 minutes later~

“We’re here,” Joe says as he turns off the car.

You looked out the window and saw nothing but trees and grass. You were confused as to where he brought you but before you could ask him, he got out of the car and jogged to your door to open it for you.

“Thank you, Joey,” you blushed as he closed the door behind you.

Joe stepped behind you and whispered into your ear “Close your eyes, I promise it’ll make it even better”.

You closed your eyes and felt his hand on the small of your back. He led you through what felt like a clearing in the trees to a flat grassy patch. You could feel the cold wind against your bare legs meaning that you were out of the woods.

“Open,” he told you.

When you opened your eyes you were met with the most beautiful sight. The same skyline you saw up close, now you were looking at from a distance. It was breathtaking. In Front of you was a picnic blanket and a beautiful set up of candles.

“Holy shit Joe, this is beautiful,” you say in awe.

“Welcome to the lookout point. My favorite place to go when I need a minute alone. I also remember you mentioning how you loved looking at skylines during the sunset and even though we couldn’t make it for the sunset part, I thought this would be the next best thing,” He says as he leads you both to the blanket.

You both sat down on the blanket and he immediately pulled you into his chest. You both faced the bright skyline and all Joe could think about was how much peace he felt at that moment. It was just the two of you sitting in your own little world. The darkness and quietness around you both felt comforting because it was a sign that this moment was just for you both; no outside noise or distractions.

“This is insane, I mean you can see the whole city and river from up here!” You say as you settle into his arms, your back to his chest.

“That’s not even the best part Y/N, look up,” He points.

You turn your head up to look at him and then you look up. You’re met with what is probably the clearest view of the stars you’ve ever gotten.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, not removing your eyes from the sky.

“You’re beautiful,” Joe says while looking down at you.

You got that feeling again. Your stomach was doing somersaults and the butterflies were back. Could this be that feeling? A feeling you hadn’t felt in a while? That feeling you get when the right person enters your life at the right time? Was Joe that person? So many questions filled your head that you didn’t realize Joe had been softly caressing your thigh the entire time which pulled you out of your trance.

“That right there is the Big Dipper which points straight to-”

“Polaris,” you interrupt.

“Space nerd,” Joe shakes his head and laughs out.

“Don’t think I don’t know about your space nerdy ways Burrow, I know this is your domain,” you huff out. Joe had told you back in New York that he loved anything and everything space and physics-related. You admired how someone like him was a complete nerd under the tough shell he had. You naturally went back to your apartment and spent an hour or two updating yourself on space quick facts, which certainly paid off.

You slowly got out of his embrace and sat up across from him.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a hint of confusion in his voice.

“No, nothing’s wrong Joe,” you chuckle.

“It’s perfect actually. It’s all perfect. You’re perfect,” you say as you move closer to him, still sitting up. “You know how to make a girl feel special, this was really sweet of you Joe,” you say as you play with the strings of his your hoodie.

“I just wanna make my girl feel special,” he confesses while moving your hair out of your face.

His girl.

Those were the only words you needed to hear before you jumped onto him and pressed your lips against his. His lips fit perfectly against yours like you were made for each other, so soft and sweet. He slipped his tongue in between the valley of your lips and entered your mouth which caused you to let out a soft whimper. You both spent a few moments exploring each other’s mouths before he broke apart the heated moment.

“I take that as a “yes I’ll be your girlfriend”,” he questioned while searching your face for an answer.

“I didn’t know you were asking,” you teased.

Joe’s face dropped, did he push you too fast? You noticed his facial expression change and immediately pressed a soft kiss onto the tip of his nose and laughed, “Yes silly, I’ll be your girl,”.

——————————————————

it's getting serious:

Morning, his place, Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt, He keeps his word

And for once, you let go, Of your fears & your ghosts

One step, not much, But it said enough

Flashback to Joe’s house (4 months into dating)

The warm sunlight flooded the room as you slowly woke up, your body sore and wrapped up in Joe’s sheets, and Joe himself. Joe was sound asleep, fully koala bear hugging you with his head on your chest. God, how does he look so perfect this early in the morning? His dirty blonde curls were sprawled out against your chest and his lips were curled up, almost smiling. Your eyes moved to his back, a few red scratches still visible. You made a mental note that you should probably trim down on the length of your acrylics if this was going to become a common thing for you two, smiling at the thought of what unfolded the night before. You freed your hand from under the sheets and moved it around his back, hoping to soothe any pain you caused.

The two of you had stumbled into his house late last night after a delicious dinner and wine tasting at a local winery. You two had a few too many glasses of wine and were lucky you made it home in one piece.

Flashback to last night

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that many glasses of wine in one sitting before,” you slurred as Joe led you inside the kitchen.

“Me either, next time make sure I stop after the 3rd glass. And it’s a good thing we got someone to take us back and forth,” he said as he took off his jacket and went to get you both some water.

“Literally. If you were to drive I think we’d end up in the Ohio River,” you deadpanned.

“Haha, really funny,” Joe said as he handed you a glass of water.

“God my feet feel like they’re on fire,”. You wailed out while taking a sip of the icy cold beverage.

Joe looked over at you and saw you eyeing your feet. You were wearing a short skin-tight black dress; one of his favorites. The low cut of the dress highlighted your neck which had his favorite part of your outfit. The necklace he gave you for your 1 month anniversary. A simple pendant with the letter “J”. After he gave you that necklace, you never took it off. It became a part of you, and he noticed that.

Joe crouched down and began untying your heels.

“Joe you don’t have to do that,” you cooed while twirling your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he said while flashing you a smile.

He helped you step out of your heels and back onto the ground. Once he got back up he wrapped his big hands around your waist and your hands immediately found their home around his neck and into his hair again.

You inched your face a little closer to his and pressed a delicate kiss onto his soft pink lips.

“Hi,” you whisper against his lips. This time, he pressed a soft kiss on your nose.

“Hi,” he whispered back, staring into your eyes.

“Tonight was really fun. Thank you for always knowing how to get my mind off of things,” you say while staring into his baby blues.

“No need to thank me Y/N. I know how hard you work and how things can become overwhelming. I’m glad that I can get your mind off of things, even if it’s for a little bit,”

He wasn’t wrong. Things often become too much for you back in LA and coming to Joe was your escape. Being with him blocked out the outside noise, you would completely forget about whatever was bothering you. You guys would often end up doing the most random things together, without any plan, but that was okay. Those nights where you’d end up eating Chinese takeout on the floor while building a new Lego set were your favorites. The hot summer days where you both would spend the entire afternoon attached to each other in the pool was one of your favorite ways to destress, it was just the two of you. He is your shelter in the hurricane that is your life.

For Joe, it was very similar. Anytime football would get too real, he’d come straight to you. You were always there whenever he needed to vent or talk something out, knowing you’d always listen. You had been to every single one of his games so far and were always waiting for him in the suite after. Whether he was upset after a shitty game or on Cloud 9, you were always there waiting with open arms. And he loved it. He loved being able to share his high moments with you, even if you had to see some of his lows. Your relationship hadn’t become public yet, which you two were incredibly grateful for. You both were incredibly private people and wanted to take in as much as you could before the whole world had an opinion of your romance. Getting to know each other in private, away from prying eyes, was a blessing.

The two of you continued to stare into each other's eyes, you found yourself once again getting lost in his.

You felt Joe’s hand migrate to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze.“Getting handsy now aren’t we, Burrow,” you softly giggled.

“Can’t help it if my girl looks so goddamn beautiful in this dress,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I appreciate the flattery Mr. Burrow, but do you need something from me or are you just being a flirt” you teased.

“I need you,” he blurted out.

Your heart almost beat out of your chest when you heard him say that. You and Joe haven’t taken that step in your relationship. You’ve had your fair share of heated make-outs that occasionally involve wandering hands, but nothing like that has happened, yet. It’s not that you didn’t want to, god you wanted to. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to climb him like a tree. His perfectly sculpted chest, his muscular arms, those thighs, and that face. He made you weak in the knees, and he was well aware. He never pressured you to go there, letting you know that it’s okay to take things slow. But tonight you didn’t feel like taking it slow.

“Then show me, Joe,” you said as you felt your arousal shoot up.

Joe immediately picked you up, bridal style, causing you to let out a shriek. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he launched you both up the stairs, taking the steps 2 at a time, eventually rushing into the bedroom.

“Joe, slow down!” You squeak out while laughing.

He carefully laid you on his bed admiring you for a second; you looked perfect, even with messy hair and smudged makeup. Joe moved onto the bed and started placing soft butterfly kisses up your arm, right up to that spot on your neck that he knows you love.

“Joe, please,” You whimpered, fully implying you wanted more with the tone of your voice.

Joe removed himself from your neck, looked into your eyes, and said “Are you sure?”.

You smiled and said “Absolutely,”.

He then captured your lips in a passionate and deep kiss. You felt like kissing him till your lips fell off, it was like heaven when you two would connect. Slowly, both of your clothes ended up on the floor and those passion-filled kisses turned messy and sloppy. You felt those butterflies in your stomach again as he was kissing his way down your body. You did not doubt that Joe would be careful with you, and you knew he wanted this just as much as you did.

End of Flashback

You decided to go back to sleep since it was still pretty early and you know Joe was tired from last night. You woke up a few hours later to the smell of cinnamon and coffee.

“Mmmm,” You say as you stretch out. You didn’t feel any weight on you anymore so Joe must have woken up. You looked around the room and didn’t see him anywhere so you decided to freshen up in his bathroom and head downstairs. When you entered the bathroom you saw one of his shirts (a purple long sleeve LSU shirt aka one of your favs) on the counter with a sticky note saying “For you :)”. You put on the soft shirt (which was way too big) and start fixing your messy hair before heading downstairs.

You walk into the kitchen and see the dining table decked out with a vase of pink carnations (which happens to be your favorite flower), 2 plates of French toast, and a smoothie for Joe. You also noticed a mug of coffee which made you smile. Joe knew that you would be a zombie the whole day if you didn’t have your daily morning coffee. Joe was too busy cooking the bacon to notice you coming downstairs, so you walked up behind him and wrapped your hands around him from behind.

“Good morning sexy chef,” you murmured against his back.

“Tryna get me going again?” He teased.

“You wish, last night was a damn workout. I need at least 3 hours to recover before we go at it again,” you giggled.

You heard his soft laugh before he spun around and wrapped his hands around your waist. “Well, we will def be repeating that. “Sooner the better,” he added.

“Horndog,” you said as you pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“Only for you babe,” he says before going back to the bacon. “I’m almost done with this, you can sit at the table.”

“Damn, quarterback, perfect boyfriend, and chef? Impressive job portfolio,” you say while walking to the table and sitting down.

Joe finished cooking the bacon and sat down across from you. “The French toast is a little burnt, I got distracted by the TV,” he admitted. “They were showing this month’s Top 10 funniest cat videos.”

You burst out laughing and say “Guess I should add Cat Lady to your job portfolio too,”

You two spent the morning digging into the delicious breakfast Joe had prepared, even though the French toast was slightly burnt. He talked about the upcoming football season and how excited he was for the new offensive schemes they had come up with. After breakfast, you both ended up on the couch and decided to play a round of go fish. You gave him some album updates, which he’d constantly ask for, and even played one of your demos for him.

“Y/N this is amazing,” he said softly. The song he had just heard was called “Sweet Nothing”, and you weren't planning on ever letting anyone hear it because of how intimate and special it was. A big part of what you did involved you being in the public eye a lot, which allowed everyone to nitpick and talk about your life. It was exhausting how often people would comment on your relationships, friendships, career, body, and everything in between. They always expected you to be perfect in every aspect and when you weren’t, they would make it known. You had written about how Joe never expected anything from you like everyone else did. Being with him was easy and you knew you could always go to him whenever the background noise would get too loud. And now here he was, listening to those feelings you had a hard time saying out loud.

“Thank you. To be honest I wasn’t planning on letting anyone hear that,” you say while looking down and fidgeting with your rings.

“Really?” he asked. “It’s really good, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yep. I love it, I really do. I think it’s one of the best songs I’ve written so far, but I feel like it’s too bare and the fans won’t understand the real meaning behind the song. And I feel like they won’t like it.”

“And that’s exactly why you should release it. I know the real you, and that is the real you,” he says while pointing at your phone. Screw the fans, you should do what makes you happy.” he says before reaching for your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “You make music because that makes you happy and you shouldn’t have to worry about what people will say. If they have an issue with you doing what you want, then they are sure as hell not fans.”

You got up on your knees and jumped onto Joe’s body, making you both lay flat against each other on the couch.

“How do you always know what to say,” you beam while prepping soft kisses all over his face.

Your heart felt like it was about to explode. It only took a few months for someone you just met to understand you more than people following your journey over the past few years. Joe’s words felt like a warm comforting hug, and they always made you feel like everything was going to be okay. You valued his words so much, you trusted him so much, and he loved that you were so open and vulnerable with him. He knew that opening up was difficult for you, and he felt at peace knowing you felt comfortable confiding in him. You weren't holding back anymore. You were 100% open and honest with him and he never took advantage of it. Your fears of getting hurt were fading away.

——————————————————

present day:

You kiss on sidewalks, You fight and you talk

One night he wakes, Strange look on his face,

Pauses, then says, “You’re my Best Friend”

And you knew what it was, He is in Love

“Y/N?” was all you heard as you felt your shoulder shake. “Did I lose you there?” Joe asked.

“What?” you questioned as you looked up at him. You were back in the fort Joe built for you two.

“I was asking what you thought of the house,” he says as he plays with your hair. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

“Oh. Sorry, I must have dozed off for a second,” you lied, not admitting you were caught in a series of flashbacks. “I think it’s amazing. It’s sooo big and has so much potential.” you continue.

“Yeah, it is pretty big,” he says with a sigh. You look up at him and immediately sense the change in his tone plus the dejected look on his face, “Is that not what you wanted?” you say with concern. “I thought you wanted a big house.”

“I did, I do. I just don’t want to be alone in this big of a house when you aren’t here,” he confessed, feeling slightly embarrassed as if he didn’t have other things to occupy his free time. “Unless,” he added.

“Unless what?” you asked.

He hesitated before saying, “Move in with me”.

It took a few moments for your brain to register what he said to you. You immediately sat up, as did he. You were about to say something but he cut you off before you could.

“Y/N. These past 6 months have been nothing short of peaceful and amazing. Being with you brings me the balance I need in my life. I know that if I ever fly too high or get lost, I have someone who can find me and bring me back down. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in life, and now you’re everything I need.” he says.

“You’re my biggest cheerleader, my support system, my safety net, but most importantly.” He pauses and says, "You're my best friend.” “And I love you.” he finishes.

Those 3 words. The 3 words that you’ve wanted to say to him for months but didn’t because you weren’t entirely sure if he felt the same way. Those 3 words just came out of his mouth, and he meant it. He loved you more than anything and he needed to make it known. He needed to wake up to your smile every morning. He needed to hear your voice echo through the halls of the house. You made him feel loved, and he needed you to know that.

You didn’t realize the hot tears streaming down your cheeks until Joe lifted his hand and started wiping them.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks, feeling nervous since you didn’t respond to anything he just said.

You started crying even harder. He loved you. He really loved you.

“Y/N you’re scaring me”.

“Shut up,” you said before you put your hands on his face and brought him in for a passionate kiss.

You kissed him for a few heartbeats and finally whispered against his lips “I love you,” loud enough for just him to hear before you captured his lips in another kiss.

He stops kissing you and stares into your eyes for a moment, getting lost in them like you do with his eyes. “So about my first question,” he beams.

“Yes silly, I’ll move in with you,” you giggle. “Someone has to make sure that you don’t burn this place down while making french toast. You got lucky last time,” you laugh out while remembering that morning.

“Haha, really funny babe,” he says before pulling you into a hug. The warmth of your bodies pressed together was the most comforting feeling in the world. Joe spent the rest of the night telling you how much he loved you, and you reciprocated the feeling by showing him how much you loved him.

We’re in love.

—The End—

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #joeburrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

592 notes · View notes

ominis-g · 3 months ago

Note

You have to move out of your dorm and Henry let's you stay in his guest room for the time being. After a few nights your bed stays empty because you found an even better place to sleep ...

This was a very good prompt. I plan to make a second part that is more... everything, but I feel like this is a good stopping point for the first part.

Notes: Narrator is a female, and it is implied to be before all the events of Richard's arrival. First person POV because it fits the vibes, but I can always change it. No use of narrator's name.

Summary: After some circumstances has Henry offer you his guest room for the interim, there is a snow storm incoming. No warnings, just a lot of fluff for this part.

Word count: 5 542

The main issue that I had with this place was not the frigid winters or the aloofness of some of its residents, but rather that it never seemed to change. The seasons would merge into each other so slowly that it was hard to pinpoint down precisely where and when they shifted, but I would be adjusting my wardrobe and habits along with the temperatures and until the winter break hit, it was the furthest thing from my mind. And upon return, what then? Heavy overcoats that cut off the view of everyone’s figures and forms and instead transformed the majority of the campus into some sort of shapeless blob until we went inside to the warmth. And then the cycle would begin again, slightly different schedules, different exams and essays, but it was the same.

And it was cold today, though the word hardly seemed sufficient. Vermont certainly had a way to cut through every piece of wool and cloth that I had layered on to stave off the biting wind. Classes were not set to begin for us for another couple of days, but here I was, shell-shocked after returning from home and its much warmer clime. My hands were still shaking as I poured myself a cup of coffee in the cafeteria, but there was not anyone around to notice. I went and sat by the window, despite its frost, because it was near enough to the radiator to offer some semblance of heat.

Hands wrapped around the heat, fingers tapping on the porcelain, I stared out of the window. I should have brought a book, or something to work on, but I had forgotten. It was still early, and the rest of the day laid before me. There was not much traffic, but there was enough people walking by to occupy my mind as I drank that cup, and then returned with a second.

The tables were starting to fill, and so was the air with the sounds of the other students. No one greeted me, since I did not know any of them, and I did not care to. Surely my friends would be back today or the next, and we would spend the time out in the country or at the twins’ speaking all about our breaks and our adventures. Our communication had been through mostly calls when one of us had time, but for Henry, who preferred to write. My mother had found our correspondence for those two months endearing, but it was Henry. Most of his letters were filling me in on the entirety of the class’s misadventures, and the rest was complaining or contemplating something obscure.

I delayed returning to my dorm because I had that soft hope that I would see one of them go by the window, even Bunny, but there was no such luck this morn. I wrapped the scarf further and snugger around my neck and face to brave the chill once more. I made it to the stoop without incident, and was stomping the snow off of my boots when I heard a clamour from within. I stoop up on my tiptoes to see through the window, wondering if I should just make myself scarce, and just barely was able to get out of the way in time. Onto the ice, and slipping down into the snowy brush with sharp pains that made me hiss and grit my teeth, not aided by the slamming of the door. The wood wobbled violently on its hinges, and two large men were dragging out a third.

Their congruent yells were bouncing off of each other, but I was focused on disentangling myself from the brush and then wading awkwardly to the other side and back to the path to avoid all three. When I turned to return, I stopped in surprise. Bunny was there, looking disheveled and agitated and cursing at the retreating backs of his exilers.

“Bun?”

He looked over at me, then scoffed. “Did you see that–”

“What happened?”

I closed the space between us, quite a few paces, when I was sure that he was not about to lash out in his anger at me.

“How was I supposed to know it was a girl’s dorm? She started screeching as soon as I turned the key and knob…” He trailed off, though his furied expression didn’t change. “Mixup in the office, or something.” His face only cleared when I began righting his coat, and he bent over obligingly to allow me to fix his hair, too. It was sticking up at odd angles from what was, no doubt, a very physical altercation. “Anyway, where am I supposed to go now?”

“Go back to the office, and tell them what happened,” I advised as he returned upright. “I am sure it was only a clerical error; just explain it coherently.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “You’re the most sensible of us, y’know?”

Hardly.

I just smiled at him and brushed snow off of his shoulders. He gave me a cheeky wink and turned to walk towards the residential office. I watched him for a moment to be sure he was really going, considering following, before deciding against it and just returning to my room.

—----------------------------------------------

I spent the rest of the morning unpacking, since I had done so little the night before. I had gotten in late, and was simply thankful that someone had been in the office to give me back the key to my room. I had emptied it, of course, and now I was arranging my books on the shelves for something to occupy me. I was bent over my trunk for another armful when there was a knock on the door. Heavy-handed, not polite. I had a sinking feeling it was Bunny.

I answered it anyway. He pushed his way in past me, dragging a suitcase along with him. I frowned at this, but closed the door so no one else could see. “Did it not go well–”

“Hell no,” he complained. He dropped the suitcase heavily on the floor and began pacing through the small space, barely avoiding where I was still unpacking. I returned to the books, waiting for more. “They’re trying to sort it all out, all the other rooms are filled–”

“Have you tried Henry?”

He shook his head. “No answer, and his car’s not in the drive. When was he supposed to be back?”

“Last time he wrote, he said it would be about the same time as me, and I got back last night. Maybe he will come today. Francis? The twins?”

“Boston.” He sat heavily on my bed, and just watched me work for a few moments. “But you’ll not kick me out into the cold, right? I can stay here?”

“You know that I am not supposed to…” I trailed off, glancing over at him, and he really looked in that moment like a big, blond puppy. “You just have to be careful. I am sure one night breaking the coed rule will not hurt, and tomorrow everything will be fixed.” He grinned immediately. “But you sleep on the floor.”

The smile faltered, but then he shrugged. He laid down in my bed, boots hanging off the edge, and continued to watch me unpack. “I thought you’re neater.”

“I just started working.”

Bunny found gum from the depths of his pockets and began chewing loudly. I tried to ignore him as I finished the books, and the silence otherwise was not even peaceful. My irritation finally got the best of me after arranging my desk, and decided I needed a break.

I headed downstairs for the phone. I rang Henry first, and immediately. My fingers tapped impatiently on the wall as I listened to the rings, glancing up the stairs to be sure that Bunny was not about to catch me trying so desperately to be rid of him.

Finally, he answered. “Hello?”

“It’s me. When did you get back?”

“I haven’t even unpacked. I heard the phone from the door.” Blissful, perfect timing. “You can come by.”

“I have a different issue,” I answered quietly, glancing up at the stairs again. “Bunny.”

He lit a cigarette, the match’s sound distinctive even over the gravelly phone. “What did he do now?”

“There was some sort of mixup, and his dorm is nonexistent. He is currently squatting in mine.”

“I can’t have him here again.” I let out a sigh, hand from the wall to my forehead, eyes closing in abject horror at the prospect of spending any sort of time alone with Bunny. “What did the office say?”

“They are working on it, but…”

I did not need to continue. Henry caught it all and finished the thought. “I have the guest room. Grab some things, and you can stay there until it’s sorted.”

“Should I tell him?”

“Just say you’re staying elsewhere, to allow him privacy. I will see you in a few.”

We hung up, and I began the walk up to my room again with a sense of dread. It was not like Bunny was going to believe that. Maybe I could say I was going to opt for the hotel, so we would not get in trouble and get us both kicked out. He would believe that.

Bunny tried in a light way to offer to go to a hotel instead, but there was not any real heart behind it. I insisted that he not worry, and he just thanked me with a smile and got more comfortable on my bed. My clothes were still securely in their suitcase, maybe a little rummaged through that I tried to ignore, and placed on top a few books for classwork, and some supplies from my desk. I left Bunny the key, and he promised not to leave it unlocked and let me get burgled. It was something, at least.

The suitcase was heavy, but nothing I could not handle. Why were Classics books so massive? I huffed my way quickly down the stairs, eager to get through the door and away before Bunny could come up with some reason why I should stay in that tiny room with him.

Henry, bless him, was waiting. He was lounged against his car, smoking, still in his travelling clothes, but when he saw me he opened the trunk. I heaved the suitcase in, closed the trunk, and joined him in the warmth of the car. He offered me one of his Lucky Strikes, which I took and lit as he drove off. I recounted the entire morning’s events with our windows rolled down just enough to let out the smoke but not the heat, and though he glanced at me, he did not comment until I was finished.

“I know why he lives in the dorms, but why do you?”

“Convenience, mainly. I suppose I could rent somewhere, but if it is too far I would have to get a car, and that is a lot of extra steps for something so easily solved by living in the dorms.”

“You mentioned in a letter that your mother would prefer if you lived off-campus.” I frowned at him and his damned memory, letting out a steady cloud of smoke. He glanced at me, then shook his head with the hint of a smile. “Something about not wanting you to get mixed up in the party culture.”

“What she does not know will not hurt her.”

“So, you told her about the class.”

“Nothing specific. I spoke of you all as friends, though your letters did spark more inquiries.” He made an amused noise. “What?”

“Did she read any of them?”

“She does not know Latin. Of course, that just made her think of the whole correspondence as romantic. I had to correct her more than once, but after about a dozen times, I gave up.”

He was quiet. He pulled into the drive and shut off the car without a word, and I watched him get out with the air of a statue. I took the last pull from the cigarette and stepped to the snow as well, throwing the butt into the pile that someone had shoveled the snow from the drive into. I retrieved my suitcase from the trunk opened by Henry, but he was already at the door and unlocking it. I hurried to follow, knocking the snow off my boots hastily.

I had offended him. I set down the suitcase, unwinding my scarf and watching him flip through the waiting mail without expression. I hung up my overcoat in the closet, right beside the mail table. “Did you correct her for any particular reason?” He finally wondered.

“My mother is quite the romantic, and insists that I should be as well. She would have been insufferable if I had done any less. I was quite glad to return, to get out of there, actually.”

“There is something of romance in communicating through letters,” he mused, but he was still looking through the mail, and I was facing the closet, trying to get my scarf to hang right with my coat. “I took joy in it. Did you?”

“Yes.” He did not say anything more, so I followed up: “It really was just for my sanity. I did not need her dragging out her wedding albums or something.”

“That’s understandable.”

Henry abandoned the mail back to the table, and was beside me to hang up his coat as well. I could not think of anything else to say, because what was there to say? He did the task in silence and then he showed me to the guest room. When he left to go unpack himself, I checked the folding bed to be sure it was locked so I could make it up with the provided bedclothes in peace. I unpacked my few books and supplies, but left the rest in the suitcase.

I brought my literature book, a notebook, and pen with me when I ventured outwards again. I sat down in the kitchen, and that is where Henry found me. He had changed, and he set down his own work on the opposite side of the table before going to make some tea. It was mainly for me, though he poured himself a cup as well, and for quite a while we worked in silence.

A thick gust of wind broke us from the concentration some time after noon, and I frowned at the sound of the impending storm. He did not look up from his work, though I was considering the way the snow was blowing from its resting places out the window. “You’re safe here. Steady as a rock, this house.” His fountain pen rose from paper, and he joined me in looking at the weather. “We could do with some supplies, though. Would you mind running out?”

I did not mind. I needed the break anyway. He dictated to me a short list of what to be sure to get at the grocery while I did up my snow boots again. It did not take me long, despite all of the other people there at the store, and on the way home I turned on the car’s radio to find the weather report. Well, no wonder the store had been packed and the shelves half-empty. There was a snowstorm set to hit the following day, just in time for everyone to come back to Hampden.

Henry helped me in putting all of the supplies away, mostly food for us to make, and I had made sure to pick up snacks for myself. He inspected the package of cookies instead of putting them on the shelf inside the cabinet, where he had placed my mixed nuts and sugary cereal. “You actually eat these?”

“They are good,” I assured him, working on rearranging the fridge to hold the milk. “And if the power goes out, I will not want to bake.”

“I forgot you bake,” was all he replied, and went back to the task. “I haven’t heard you talk about baking since last year.”

“Since we were speaking about bakeries in Rome–”

“And the differences in the various Greek cities,” he agreed, leaning against the counter to light a cigarette. He placed the pack back onto the table, so I sat down to light one myself. “If you had access to a kitchen, would you bake while here at Hampden? I’m sure Charles would appreciate it.”

“I suppose so.” I watched him check the cabinet where I had put in fresh flour, baking soda, and sugar. Everything he had had from before the break was stale, or empty. “Bread, or sweets?”

“Perhaps a bit of both; we could try to recreate some breads that the ancients would have enjoyed.”

“We would have to go outside Hampden to find the flours and grains.”

This did not seem to bother him. He closed the cabinet and returned to standing as he had been, pondering the end of his cigarette. “True. It would be a worthy endeavour.”

“Are you offering your kitchen for my use?”

He focused instead on taking in a long drag. He had let it out before he said simply, “yes.”

I smiled, but I do not think he noticed. He was too engrossed in how absolutely fascinating his dwindling cigarette was. “What do you want for supper?”

The unspoken tension in the air loosened as we made a very simple meal of roast chicken and vegetables together. Neither of us were skilled cooks, but once he had given his opinion and the bird was in the oven, Henry returned to his work. I pondered the empty counters, the time remaining, and then made us a small batch of biscuits to go along with it. His smile returned when he smelled them; I doubt he even clocked that I was making them before that, or maybe he did and had only been looking when my back was to him.

Henry lit a few candles as the sky darkened, but even as we ate he seemed utterly unbothered; I, on the other hand, was constantly glancing out the window to judge the intensity. It was not terrible to be trapped inside of this apartment with him, but being trapped anywhere did not appeal to me, and especially not the rigid frigidity of snow. Vermont.

We started drinking after supper, and he and I put away our work. We sat on his sofa instead, him swirling his glass of whiskey as he read aloud to me in his flowing Greek any passage that caught his fancy. I played solitaire on the table as I listened, the flicker of the candlelight and the rattle of the radiators offering a very welcome ambiance that almost allowed me to forget the blizzard’s noises outside.

—-------------------------------------------------

Even with the liquor in me, the bed was still uncomfortable. I knew it was far more preferable than listening to Bunny’s snoring and bothering that was sure to have come had I stayed, but in the depths of sleeplessness, I could only think about how much it was uncomfortable. When we had said good night to each other, Henry had offered in a polite way to switch beds, but I had brushed off the gesture as not necessary. Besides, he needed the better bed.

I was up early, but of course Henry was awake before me. He had made coffee, so I poured myself a cup and went to find him. He was sitting in his room with the door open, working– as usual. I paused there at the threshold with the storm’s sounds drowning out everything else, watching him at his desk. His chair was slightly inclined to the door, like he had expected me to find him like that, but he was bent over some large book and did not even look up. I waited, sipping at my coffee, until he finished whatever he was reading before I knocked on the open door softly.

“Come in,” he invited, and so I did. I sat down in his armchair, and my presence seemed to remind him of his coffee cup. He sat back to nurse it, eyes moving over the splay of papers on his desk before his attention turned to me. “How did you sleep?”

“I think the storm kept me up.” He nodded knowingly. “What of you?”

“Well enough. It is good to be back in my own bed.” He paused with the cup raised up as if to take a drink. “Which I’m sure you’ll be soon enough.”

“I will make sure to wash the sheets.” He smiled, and did finally take a sip of his coffee. My fingers tapped at the porcelain softly. “What if they are unable to figure it out?”

“Then you’ll stay here. We can go get the rest of your things.” It was stated matter-of-factly, as if the answer had been obvious.

“I do not wish to impose on you–”

“I don’t mind your company.”

I hid the unease behind my mug. I could not pinpoint it, not exactly– was it the fear of Bunny staying for the term in my dorm, or the fear of him not? Was it rather the prospect of seeing Henry daily– more than I already did– and him maybe growing irritated by my presence? “I have never had a roommate.”

“You only have to be more agreeable than Bunny, and I would like to think I am as well.”

“It was a very pleasant day yesterday.”

“It was; relaxing, even, which is just what we needed before classes begin.”

He was not relenting, or maybe I was just too inexperienced at skirting around difficult questions. “Are you not worried you will tire of me?”

His brow rose, and with his hair slightly mussed from the early hour, it threw his scar into sharp relief. “No.”

“At all?”

“This is all and entirely hypothetical, but if we follow the thought through: no, I do not see myself growing tired of you. Disagreements, annoyances, on both of our parts, but that’s normal. We both have schedules beyond the Greek class, and the only difference would be seeing each other like this, before we retire, and for more meals than usual. That’s hardly an unseemly amount of difference.” He rose to find his cigarettes, and I considered him, his words, and his craving for nicotine. We were both quiet until he was shaking out the match. “The only conflict I could see arising is if you took some beau.”

I blinked slowly at the words, because they were not what I was expecting, especially from him. We had never spoken about it before, whether by design or by happenstance, I was not sure. “Why?”

“Coming home at all hours– or not at all– and I would have to meet the poor fellow, wouldn’t I? Then there’d be another person in the house with us, and when our friends come over, it’s already too many.” He leaned over to knock off some ash in his over-filled ashtray. “Unless you already have one. Back home, perhaps?”

“No; I am sure it would make my mother very happy, but no. You and Julian and everyone have completely monopolised my time. Well– and classes, of course. Family obligations…” I trailed off, because he was smiling. “Well then– you, same question.”

Henry actually laughed, waving away the question along with smoke in the air. “No, no.” I sighed over my coffee. “Who would it be? Surely no one else but our group could keep my interest, or for long. I’m too busy to look elsewhere.” He said it casually, but my eyes narrowed at his wording. He was focused on his cigarette again, though still smiling. “Say, how did it look outside?”

“Are you changing the subject?”

He ignored me, carrying his mug and cigarette with him to go into the main room. I had to force my face to clear before I joined him, draining the last of my coffee. He was standing at the window, looking out at the snow that was moving blurringly fast, almost surreal with the orange glow from the street lamps. “It seems a perfect day for translations.”

“Until the heat goes out.”

“Good thing that you’re here, then.” I wrapped both of my hands around the mug, trying very hard not to think about it. “Why don’t you get your work and we can relax in my room? It’ll be more comfortable than the kitchen.”

I pulled on a sweater as well, and sat there in his armchair eating a bowl of cereal noisily. I wanted to see if he would admit that I would annoy him, but he genuinely did not seem to mind and was utterly focused on his work. I refilled both of our coffees when I was done, and he murmured a thanks as I replaced it back onto his desk. I had my book for a literature class to read, so I lounged in the chair with a candle on the table beside it to slog through.

The power went out some time around noon, which I only discovered when I went to get something for lunch. I made two sandwiches and poured myself a glass of milk, wondering how long the power would be out, and worried it would spoil. I set his plate down onto his desk, and he started as if from a trance. He sat back to rub at his eye under his glasses, and I retreated to my chair.

“Power is out.”

“Inevitable,” he returned, examining the sandwich briefly before taking a bite. He finished the whole thing without speaking; he had not eaten breakfast. “As long as the gas stays on, we should have heat.”

We returned to our silent work. I left and came back to his room a few times, to get different books, to get a notebook, but he did not comment. I stopped at the window each time, but the house besides his room was completely dark; I could no longer see the street lamps, or any semblance of life outside of his walls.

Henry had found I had moved to the floor to spread out and take notes for an essay over his rug when he finally rose. He must have gotten up more than that, simply to relieve himself, but this time was different. His head tilted as he looked over my work. “Comfortable?”

“Your carpet makes a wonderful desk, as big as I need.”

“You’re more than welcome to get your own desk.” I turned over to my back, eyes up his form with a smile for him. “Hypothetically, of course.” It was a very good view. He was still dressed as Henry, but he wore a sweater as we had no where to be or anyone else to see today. His hands slid into the pockets of his trousers, perhaps to shift them so I could see nothing from that angle but for the fold of the cloth.

“Then how would we work together?”

“True,” he conceded, but he still looked thoughtful. His head turned, considering his desk, and I got a new angle for his features, the hair shadowing his eye, everything. “Maybe a large table, or two desks pushed up together, so we could work face-to-face.”

“Or I could continue to lay siege to your carpet.” He smiled. “Batter your desk’s defences–”

“Watch out for the hot wax,” he broke in. “Terrible for your troops, and my men are far from sitting ducks.”

I laughed lightly, and he met my smile. He then offered me his hands, and though I did hesitate, I was always going to take them. I sat up enough so my hands could meet his, slide into the warmth, and he stepped to the side as he helped me up. What could I say? There was a moment with our fingers still on each others’ wrists and palms, and us standing closer than I think we had ever stood before. I could feel his warmth, not just through the touch but through the mite space between us, could smell the ink, the coffee, the smoke and all the different scents from the house that made it so distinctly Henry.

I looked up at him in that brief interlude, and our gaze held together for the duration. My lips parted, raking my brain for something to say– did I even want to say anything? I took in a breath.

“Let’s take a break,” he said, not unkindly. His hands slid back, and so I withdrew mine as well, our fingertips lingering for a further second before he looked away, and then went to find his Lucky Strikes. I felt flush, my sweater suddenly sweltering, so I welcomed the walk out of his warm little room and into the main room. He did not bother to light any candles, using the cherry of his cigarette to guide him if he needed it, and then mine as well.

Henry made a displeased noise when he stopped at the window, hand up to see if he could wipe away the obstruction, but no: that was snow plastered onto the windows and turning to ice. Despite the radiators rattling eerily, it was definitely colder out here than in the room we had been occupying, proof of just how cold and dreary it was outside of those walls.

“We’ve been keeping my room warm,” he noted, cigarette to his lips and squinting through the smoke.

“I might stay the entire night in there,” I returned in a light tone. He looked to me through the smoke, perhaps trying to determine if I was jesting or not. “I would not wish either of us to freeze to death.”

“And who knows if the heat will remain throughout the night,” he agreed in the same kind of tone, so I was the one questioning the meaning. “Just another reason why– hypothetically– you’d be the ideal roommate.”

“Is it still hypothetical?” He smiled around his cigarette, and for a moment we just smoked in silence. “Even if it is, I could not spend the entire term on that foldout bed.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Still, you should have your own space, even if you shared mine on frigid nights such as this one.” He turned from the dark window for the couch, sitting down upon it and finally lighting a candle. He poured us each a drink, and he handed it to me as I joined him. “Of course, if you wished, you could get a bed of your own choosing, should you not want to share mine nightly.”

“Do you snore?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

I shook my head. “Just while ill.”

“I think that’s everyone,” he mused, relaxing beside me with the ashtray between us. “I don’t blame you, by the way. Even if it wasn’t coed, I would not want to be stuck in such a small space with Bunny for an undetermined amount of time, and he does snore.”

“I do not mind him usually,” I replied, snuffing out my cigarette so I could focus on that glass of whiskey. “But the entire thing made me nervous. He is not the quietest person, not to mention how it would look when we were inevitably found out, even with him sleeping on the floor–”

“He would have guilted you into giving up your bed, or sharing–”

“Precisely, hence the anxiety.”

He was quiet as he considered that, and our previous words. “And I don’t make you anxious in that way?”

“No, and if you did, I could simply return to my own bed. I did not have anywhere to go with him there.” He made a curious noise into his glass. “And, you and I, we have a different… relationship.”

“We do.” It was such a short and simple statement that I waited for more. Anything more, really. He had finished his drink before it came. “Mutual respect, and you don’t impose yourself anywhere.”

“I try not to.”

“And if I had denied you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He set down his glass to pour himself another finger, and then two. He offered the bottle to me, so I held out the glass so he could refill mine as well. “Hypothetically or not, I’m not doing that.” The bottle was down, and I still without words. He returned to relax beside me, swirling the whiskey around thoughtfully, perhaps waiting for me to say something.

“Thank you,” I finally managed. It made him smile. “But I also do not want things to be awkward if–”

“We’re both adults here, and we are friends. Quid enim mali accidere potest?”

“Sic transit gloria mundi.” He shook his head, holding back laughter before it was out in a chuckle into his glass. “I meant more that we will endure as friends even if anything romantic does not. No need to imply the end of the world as we know it.”

I shrugged and took a long drink. “I could not bear it.”

“Then let us be sure that we endure.”

A/N: Any glaring errors, please let me know!

#the secret history #henry winter #henry winter x reader #tsh #tsh donna tartt #fanfiction #the secret history fanfic #fanfic

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velvetures · 1 year ago

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Hi baby!! I like your writing sm it's amazing 💓💓 If RQs are open I would like to request König stealing from readers dirty panties to use when he's self pleasuring~ she finds out and confronts him and one thing leads to another and next thing you know he's got her thighs locked on the side of his head while she rides his face so he can finally taste what he's been wanting for weeks. Thank you so much I know you'll do great with this req

Do Me?... A Favor

A/N: God, I love this! I had such a great time writing this and might've needed a lil' break halfway through. This trope has a special place in my heart. (I'm mentally unwell) So I hope you enjoy! Forgive me for being so late on this. Summary: König steals your panties and does dirty things with them. You catch him, and... well... you and I both know exactly what happens after that. T/W: !!NS/FW 18+ ONLY!!!, thievery of panties, male masturbation, fem-reader, dirty talk, fantasy mentions, face riding, exhibitionism if you have 20/20 vision, fem-recieving oral, spanking?, prob missed something... I don't proofread, ya'll better know this by now.

GIF and Story Below Cut

Extended missions with KORTAC usually meant that König would be within touching distance of you for days on end. Hearing you talk with his squad and watching you make jokes that got almost every single one of the stone-cold men melting with affection for you. There wasn’t a single one of them that didn’t absolutely adore you; Jump at the chance to help you, offer to take watches, ask to be paired with you, or just try and be the lucky one that got to either sleep with you or next to you. As Colonel, König always had his hands full maintaining order when the girl from the United States sector was sent to help them out.

On a personal level though, König struggled to hide the desperation and pathetically overwhelming feelings of jealousy he had when seeing anyone get that close to you. Having known you the longest, spent the most time alone with you, trusted you with his own mind and vice-versa, the Colonel -problematically- believed he had a bit more of a right to you than any of this men. Perhaps your own behavior towards him didn’t help out much either. So little and gutsy, you always liked teasing him. Tempting him to wrestle and always so confident you’ll win, and toying with his mask; begging so innocently to see the “handsome face” under there.

You’d been like that with him for so long, he couldn’t tell the difference between close friendship and flirting anymore. Blurring lines and also his own ability to control the compulsions to get just a little bit more of you. In any sick or twisted way he might be able to get his hands on. No man could resist your charms and beautiful little face. Especially König, who melted from a towering 6’10 to a weak and desperate boy crawling after you like a lost puppy.

He wasn’t proud of it. Then again, he didn’t care all that much. Especially when he found a way to satisfy his more carnal and disgusting desires for you that couldn’t even be tortured out of him.

In his defense, you’d been the one who started it. Calling out his name when you were in the small bathroom of the safe house and asking him to grab some clothes out of your rucksack, having forgotten to get them yourself. Half dazed knowing you were naked with just a thin, open, door between you had the Colonel making a beeline for your bag and ripping it open to do exactly what you’d asked of him.

Now… if any of his men would’ve asked him if he had a thing for panties, he would’ve very sternly disagreed with the whole idea.

But when he laid eyes on your panties, balled up and stuffed in a little side pocket in white, black, pink, and some cute patterns, the darker side of his mind slipped. Throwing him into an entirely different kind of temptation that he’d never entertained before. He’d hardly been able to deliver your clean clothes to you without incident, and spent the rest of the evening with his brain consumed with fantasies of what you looked like in all those pretty things. Surely your ass looked downright sinful with that material stretching over it and cradling your body closer than he’d ever have the opportunity to. Fuck… even your thighs would be that much more brilliant with the crease made that much more obvious by the hemline of the panties. The images kept flowing long into the night after he should’ve been asleep, his own watch hour ticking closer with each minute.

Struggling with the urge to palm his hard cock and just try to ease some of the pressure. Begging for some type of solution to his weakening self-control. König was up and headed to the bathroom, ready to take care of his painfully throbbing erection before he could even stop to think about how wrong it was to jerk himself off less than fifteen feet away from you and his men. The moment he unzipped his jeans and freed his drooling cock, his mask was shoved up so he could spit in his hand, and stuck his mask between his teeth to try and muffle his own sounds of pleasure.

Thoughts of what you’d look like gasping for breath on top of him, impaling your little body on his cock, spurred König to smear his own spit over his length. Fisting the head and rotating his palm around the tip with a deep rumble in his chest. He wished he could’ve seen you in the shower… soft skin wet and dripping with lathered soap. Rubbing those tiny hands over your body and rinsing away the sweat he’d seen soaking your shirt and running down your neck earlier during your rotation. His hazy vision cut to the shower, looking at it with a mental picture of you taking use of the handheld shower head. Putting it between your plush thighs and watching your tremor.

Only some small and purple sitting in the corner of the floor next to the bathtub froze his movements. Every muscle tensed at the sight of it, and while precum drooled from his swollen head, the Colonel couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The massive man didn’t even need to get off his seat on the toilet to pick up the delicate scrap of material and dangle it in front of his face. Taking into account his interaction with you, he couldn’t believe that your dirty underwear had fallen out of the balled up clothes you’d worn all day.

König’s cock twitched at the disturbed idea of smelling them. His body goading his mind to forgo the moral line of doing such a thing, and just do it. You wouldn’t know… his men would never find out… As long as he put them back in your rucksack before morning, there’d be no reason for anyone to question it. Besides, he was so turned on. And it wasn’t hurting anyone for him to just use a piece of your clothes to help let off some steam…

König ripped his mask off his head and let it drop to the floor next to his boot, and hesitantly lifted your panties up to barely touch he tip of his nose. The silky fabric was so damn feminine… so much like you in many ways. He rubbed them between his fingers, slowly moving his other hand up and down his cock; Nearly teasing himself with the full experience. Denying the satisfaction of experiencing your scent intimately. The otherwise self-composed Colonel couldn’t wait another moment, and buried his nose into your dirty panties with a lustful growl muffled by his hand.

His balls tightened with pure excitement, spitting more clear fluid down his shaft and filling the small bathroom with vulgar sucking sounds of his fingers sliding up and down with more desperation. Your scent was nothing short of a sweet and salty pheromone jolt of a daydream that made his brain go to nothing but static and arcs of electricity. His dick throbbed as his second inhale came as a much deeper and purposeful acceptance of this new and still very taboo action.

“F-fuucckk…” König had to whimper into your panties, his hips twitching up into his own fist.

“S-so fucking good…” Even with the very real risk of someone hearing him moaning, König continued whispering and whining his praise and pleads for you into the crotch of your panties. Going so far as to lose his willpower and reach out his tongue to feel the soft fabric and give his tastebuds one, lingering, taste of your sweet cunt. The tangy and candy-sweet remainder lingering in the threads of your panties utterly ripped König’s orgasm out of him.

His toes curling in his boots, his stomach flexing and his one fist tightening around the base of his shaft as thick and pearly release dripped hotly over veins and the between his balls before dripping in quiet drops onto the floor. The Colonel sat for full minutes, working over himself slowly and hiding his panting breath against your used underwear. He felt so goddamn monstrous for using you like this. Going behind your back and cumming over his fist like an animal in rut. Denying just how good of a release he had wasn’t possible either though. Not only had his most recent solo attempts been miserably unsatisfying, but his most horrific thought after cleaning up his evidence was that he wanted nothing more than to pocket your panties and keep them.

The Colonel blamed his own rotation on watch as the reason behind why he pocketed your panties instead of putting them back in your rucksack.

Two days later, you were still quietly in search of your panties that had apparently disappeared into thin air. You’d turned your bag inside out, went through the bathroom at least five times, and checked every other room of the safe house thinking someone might’ve found them and just tossed them somewhere they believed you’d see them. Searching came up with zero sign of your panties, and you felt like you were going insane. Not that it really mattered if they were gone… You had packed plenty of spares in the case you -for some reason- needed two back-ups for every day you were gone and couldn’t buy more. It was more so just the simple fact that you’d been so unobservant to misplace a pair of bright, purple, fucking panties.

Being surrounded by nothing but men only added to your silent mortification.

“You alright Sergeant?” One of the KORTAC guys paired on your rotation nudged your shoulder with his elbow, drawing your attention back to the -quite serious- task at hand.

“You look a little distracted, everything okay?” The look on his face made you think he was concerned that the cold weather was getting to you.

You shook your head. “M’fine. Just lost something, and I can’t fucking find it anywhere.”

He chuckled, adjusting his rifle against his chest. “Something important?”

“No. Not at all,” You sighed, seeing your breath fog up in front of your view of the forest and the heavy snowfall. “Just can’t figure out where it went and I’ve turned the whole house over.”

The Lieutenant at your side looked back towards the edge of the perimeter and then back to you with a little shrug. “Well, i suppose you could go in early. Get warm and have another look around. You’ve already had more shifts than plenty of the other guys.” He patted you on the back and jerked his head back in the direction of the safe house and outlying buildings.

You couldn’t help but grin under your face mask, eyes squinting to show your appreciation and giving him a quick ‘thanks’ before jogging back through the snow. You passed a few of the other guys out on rounds and either waved or called out a short word or two so as to let them know you’d come in for a few hours. Typically König was the one who dictated the different schedules to ensure no one got left out in the snow too long. Kicking off the frozen slush and snow off your boots, you waddled yourself inside and set out to get warmed up and find the Colonel.

Maybe he’s seen my underwear… You muse a bit mortified, unclipping your heavy overalls and yanking your tac vest over your head. God, it was a thought that made you shiver not just from the cold nipping at the wet cuffs of your winter layers and damp socks.

It wasn’t very secret that you had a very soft spot for König. He was just so damn sweet to you, and might’ve always given you a little bit of preferential treatment when you got sent to KORTAC on collaborating missions. Whether he did it because of his belief that you were a woman -and much smaller- than any of his men, or maybe for a more personal motive, you didn’t know. Really having the courage to bring up the topic was extremely intimidating. Joking around and teasing the massively tall and handsome solider was one thing. Asking him to lay out how he truly felt about you as more than an occasional partner was very different.

By the time you’d changed into some dry and comfortable clothes to hang out in for the rest of the evening, you noticed that the few guys lingering in the living room had left out. Leaving you alone, with the entire couch to yourself and a quiet house that gave leeway for a really good nap right in front of the wood-burning stove blaring heat right at you. Thank god for the KORTAC guys being so nice to you, and making sure that you didn’t have a hell-on-earth experience for your first winter in Russia.

You’d not really even gotten settled on the couch when you heard a somewhat loud thump from down on the other end of the house. Nearly like a head or hand smacking against the wall in one of the little rooms -made bedrooms- once you’d all arrived a little over a week ago. It didn’t happen again, and trying to just ignore whatever fools the guys could be making out of themselves outside to make that sort of noise, you just went ahead and closed your eyes again.

Thump.

Your eyes snapped open and stared at the ceiling, tuning your ears to the sounds emanating from the far end of the house. You waited patiently, and a third heavy and thud met your ears. Immediately you were up and on your feet, standing in the entry to the hallway leading that way, seeing that only one door was halfway shut, and it was König’s room at the very end. Eyebrows furrowed and hands resting on your hips, you stared at the door waiting for some kind of sign as to what exactly was happening. Surely one of the others weren’t setting up some kind of prank for the Colonel to come back to… right?

Oh god… he’d be soo mad. We’d all get ripped new asses if that happened.

And it wouldn’t have been the first time you’d faced König’s wrath for nothing more than someone thinking a harmless prank was acceptable. Even if the Colonel was extremely lenient on you, he wasn’t to be toyed with. He was a hard and cold man when it was called of him, and you really didn’t want to risk being thrown back out in the snow within the next twelve hours. What had your feet moving was another small and muffled sound, almost like a clipped and high-pitched sort of thing. It didn’t settle right, and you’d got to the door and pushed it open just a few more inches to tell whoever was in the Colonel’s room to get the fuck out.

You were the one struck speechless.

Through the small gap in the door and frame, you saw none other than König laying on the too-small cot with his shoulders propped up against the wall, mask rucked up over the bottom half of his face, and a distinct, purple, material pressed against his mouth and nose. The sensation of your heart and stomach jumping into your throat nearly choked you of oxygen. You could hardly drag your eyes away from his massive hand teasing his thick and hard cock. Once again, that thud reverberated through the room and it was nothing more than the erotic sight of him throwing his head back against the drywall with an -almost- silenced moan.

“Jesus Christ…” The whispered words fell from your awestruck mouth before you could stop yourself. Breathless, but damn sure loud enough for the Colonel to hear you and his dark eye to snap right to where you’d been peeking through the doorway. His whole body stiffened, and his hand stopped. Even dropping your dirty panties right into his lap. The purple fabric fluttering down to rest at the base of him.

“Shit!” You gasped, turning right around and hiding your face in your hands.

You could hear fabric shuffling and enough of a panicked movement to realize König planned on at least talking to you. Somehow having the sheer guts to not immediately act like nothing had ever happened. You heart thumped right at the back of your throat for what felt like and eternity before you heard the door behind your creak open and the distinct pattern of labored breathing. You jumped when his massive hand rested on your shoulder, nudging you to turn around.

“W-we… need to talk,” He mutters downright guilty. “About, what you just - just saw.” Swallowing the massive wave of conflicting feelings welling up in your mind, stomach, and in your pussy, you nod your head and wait until your hear König walk back into the bedroom before turning around and walking through the door to face him.

Right away your eyes fall down to his belt and take note of the -very large and still very hard- outline of his erection straining against his belt and the zipper of his jeans. Your face flushed bright red, realizing he’d pinned his cock beneath the leather strap around his waist to keep it as under control as possible. Before you could draw your eyes away, one of his hands falls down to shield his arousal, and you hear him clear his throat nervously. It draws your attention back up to his re-masked face. Noticing his eye darting anywhere but your eyes and the rise and fall of his wide shoulders. Comparing reactions, it seems that the Colonel is far more effected than you are.

Maybe you weren’t as… upset as you should be.

“I must apologize for my… disturbing behavior,” He blurts out with a raspy tone, visually shrinking a bit. “I… can’t begin to…” Trailing off, you watch him rub at the back of his neck, in thought and obviously tense.

“I just couldn’t help but - you’re just so…”

Eyebrows furrowed and your interest piqued, you take a step closer; Seeing your used panties tucked under his pillow and a small little glimpse of purple peeking out. Screams in the back of your mind make the very dangerous assumption that he’s still somewhat possessive over the item. It makes the growing wetness in your panties more significant, forcing your to flex your thighs together.

“I’m so, what?” You press softly, your head tilting up at him with the shortening gap between you.

The Colonel audibly swallows, “So… pretty.” You’ve never heard such a whimpering and weak sound from him. Almost like it’s a desperate thought he couldn’t help but admit to you. It stokes a fire inside your belly, and you’re very quick to push just a little more.

“So you stole dirty panties?” A low, gravelly whine escapes from under his mask as shakes his head.

“They were on the floor… And I was so frustrated, I didn’t mean for you find out. I just - just needed to know…” His voice stiffens, but he’s still struggling to defend his actions, and not totally own up to the fact that you’d caught him using your scent to get himself off.

“How many times have you used them, Colonel?” Your voice lowers a little, pussy clenching in anticipation of his answer; Fluttering wet walls that silently beg for more stimulation than the pressure your thighs can provide.

König squirms where he stands, sighing heavily. “Six. Six times… Fuck, I’m so sorry.” His head drops in guilt that actually squeezes your chest with sympathy. He’d always held the biggest piece of your heart, and seeing him so hard on himself for being -not only human- but having been no more desiring for you than you’d been for him… you just couldn’t stand letting him do this anymore.

“Well that just won’t do, will it?” You’re pulling your sweatshirt over your head and dropping it on the floor before König can look up and register what you’re doing. Halfway through pushing your pants down your thighs, you hear a sharp gasp and a little grunt of a sound.

“What are you doing?” His voice has flattened, and you peek up to see his wide eyes roaming all over your exposed skin. You just smile, standing there in a soft bralette and some panties and shrug like this wasn’t making your knees quake under your weight.

“I’m gonna give you fresh pair.” You lick your lips nervously, slipping your fingers under the waistband and begin to tug them down.

“Wait!” He almost shouts, taking a couple steps closer to you and grabbing your wrists to keep you from moving. “F-fuck… just, hold on a second.” He’s panting heavily, staring at you with dilated eyes.

For a long moment, you just stand there feeling his hot skin burning against your own. Silently staring at each other like trying to read the other’s thoughts without attempting to just do it the easy way and ask. You can smell the mint of his toothpaste and that all-too-comforting scent of sandalwood lingering on his body from some kind of cologne or deodorant you’d never quite seen him apply. You’re about to ask him a question when you feel his fingers trailing down your inner wrists towards your hips, and finally resting on the waistband of your panties. Heavy hands being much more gentle than you’d ever experienced, raising chills on your massive expanse of bared skin.

“Can I…?”

His eyes dart between his hands and your eyes with such an innocent look that you’re nodding your head before you actually think it through. Implicit trust had always made you and the Colonel a good pair on the field. Never pausing to think there might be a day like today were you’d test just how good things cold be in the bedroom. He’s down on one knee and nearly eye-level with you, fingers rubbing the fabric withholding the ultimate of your intimate regions… His face so close that it’s brushing against you stomach. Steadying yourself, you grab ahold of his shoulder; Needing some kind of grounding since you can’t really feel your bare feet on the freezing cold floor.

Squeezing the meat of your hips, the Colonel hisses.

“Always thought you were the tiniest thing… Wanted to know how someone so small could be so deadly,” His teasing evolved into slowly pulling at your underwear. Dragging them over the swell of your ass and leaving them there for a moment.

“Lucky me, knowing better than anyone how you can kill a man so slowly.”

He’s slow but purposeful in pulling your panties down your legs, his head following them instead of taking the first look at your bared skin. Reverently, he picks up your bare feet one-by-one and helps you out of the material, immediately rubbing the fabric between his long fingers. Your stomach drops when you realize that he’s purposefully feeling the crotch. Giving away the sheer arousal you’d collected there in mere minutes. It should’ve bothered you, made embarrassment floor your system. Only it just proved to make your legs feel weak under you. Almost visually shaking when the Colonel slid your panties under the hem of his hood.

“Want to tase what I do to you,” He murmured, giving you the exact answer of how pressed you were to find out what was happening under that bleached t-shirt of a shield.

“Need you to watch me…” Your cunt clenched hearing him sound so broken.

Nodding dumbly, your gaze never left König’s eyes. Seeing his heavy lids close, just to open back up drunkenly with a low groan that nearly penetrated your very bones. Wet sucking sounds emanating from under the mask, his tongue lapping at your soaked gusset and leaving no question as to just how fucking hungry he was for it. Spit-covered cotton sucked dry by one of the most powerful and intimidating men on the face of the planet; Down on a knee in front of you and literally lost to your taste. Lips parted and awestruck, you tried to force some words out.

“You look so hot like that, sir.” Breathless, it’s clear just how much it’s effecting you too.

Using his title has his eyes snapping up to you. Dark and dilated pupils, wide shoulders rising and falling quickly, and one hand still circled around your ankle to prevent your -impossible- escape from him. The Colonel is off his knee and has you lifted off the ground with only one arm before you can blink. Spinning you around and dropping you down on his cot; His massive body looming over yours. Downright terrifying save for the sight of your pink underwear hanging limply in his fist. That intimidating shadow of his erection -somehow- bigger than before, twitches against his belt. You’re driving him wild sitting so innocently with your thighs clenched together on his bed. Looking like you hadn’t the slightest idea just how badly he wanted to utterly destroy you right there and now.

“Sergeant?” Maintaining his composure takes every last fiber of concentration. Seeing your head tilt to the side in silent question and anticipation nearly doubles the weight of his balls.

“You must be so needy. Waiting so patiently for someone to give you satisfaction,” He steps closer, hips less than a foot away from you. Tempting your baser instincts to lean forward and swipe your tongue over a wet spot resting just over the tip of his cock.

“Your sweet cunt tastes like she’s been neglected… Have you been neglected Sergeant?” Almost mocking, you can’t begin to challenge him. Right away your nodding your head, flexing your thighs and crossing your ankles to attempt some small relief of pressure.

“König - I -” You’re fumbling for the right words when he chuckles lowly, bending just far enough to place his palms on across your thighs and squeeze just a little.

Meeting your forehead with his own, you’re right back to where you always felt with him. Safe and like he somehow understood everything about you without ever asking. Unique to König, he could always tell when something was wrong or you just weren’t quite on your game for some reason or another. You always thought it’s what made you such a good pair. And if you had to admit it, you’d have thought you knew just about everything about him too; But now after this, there’s a question lingering if all of his sweetness was just out of friendship, or something much more significant swirling around behind that shroud of a mask. Either way, you wanted to find out more. Get closer and explore the Colonel in a way you’d never believed possible.

“If you want this… me,” Just above a mere whisper, he paused to look between the small gap withholding you from him. “I need you to say so, meine perle.” Hearing your longstanding pet name in this connotation felt so very different, yet so much more impactful than on just your feeling of standard closeness. Giving you the suspicion that König hadn’t just thought it was a simple throwaway nickname.

“Please, please. I want you.” Your answer feels confident. Specifically choosing to ask for him, and him alone.

König met your lips with heavy intention. Cradling your neck with one hand and leaning your weight back against the bed; All the while crawling overtop of you. You could barely taste your own tangy arousal on his tongue, fighting for the chance to take the other fully. While König did try to resist your little bites at his bottom lip and your fingers prying at his shirt, it didn’t take long for him to finally happily give up. Rolling onto his back and pulling you to straddle him. Helping you along with the subtle movement of your bare cunt against his clothed cock and the ridges of his zipper.

“Mm,” He pulled away from you far too soon, admiring you sitting atop him so delicately. Pink cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and a look in your eyes that made his whole body truly feel desired ****************and appreciated. Maybe even loved.

“Come here, meine perle. Let me give you everything you want.” Pulling your head down to meet his lips one last time, you sighed.

Sinking against him with so many fuzzy feelings of happiness and surreal recognitions of just how crazy this was. Of how one single change of your day had brought you to König’s room.

“Süßes Mädchen, ich will dich probieren..” It was the last coherent thing you could remember König saying as he effortlessly pulled your bare cunt closer to his face with an utterly wrecked look on his face and his tongue licking at his lips.

Hip flexors and thighs quivering, you could hardly keep your eyes focused on the Austrian below you. With your legs spread and framing his head and his hot palms cradling the entirely of your ass to keep you from squirming too much, König had spent the better part of half and hour with his tongue buried in your cunt. Snarling and growling like a hungry dog who’s chain had finally snapped. Between your almost totally fried nerves and the nudge of his thick nose rubbing against your clit while tongue-fucking your hole, you’d nearly pleaded and moaned yourself mute with a sore throat. ail scratches had been scraped into the drywall in front of you, and the strength in your legs had long faded into boneless mush that König hardly needed the endurance to hold steadily. The Colonel had been nothing but painfully patient and determined to give your more orgasms than your body could withstand.

You’d been ordered to count them, and it’d never been more challenging to count to four.

“Bitte meine Perle, komm, fick mein gesicht.” You never wanted to follow an order so badly. But fuck if you came again, you weren’t sure you’d ever resurface from the sensation. The previous had almost left you sitting full-weight on his face and blacked out in overwhelming pleasure. Mentally preparing wasn’t an option though. König wasn’t stopping for anything. Including your weak whimpers and whines that protested the command despite your desire to listen to him as closely as possible.

“C-can’t do it again-” Your voice cracks pathetically.

A loud crack of his palm smacking against the flesh of your ass releases a guttural moan from you. Spanking you firmly for the denial, and nipping at your swollen and abused little clit in punishment. You whine again, knowing your choice in the matter is being denied. König’s hunger for your release dripping out from the corners of his mouth motivates him to wrap his lips around your swollen bud and suck. Using the tip of his tongue to flick against the painfully sensitive end. That movement had brought you to release the first time, and it worked just as efficiently again to rip your pleasure out of your body right into the Colonel’s waiting mouth.

Your shaking and tears being to roll over your cheeks as König uses his own strength to help ride you through the aftershocks that cause your thighs to tremor and your stomach to flex and waver. The only somewhat meaningful things you’re able to do is use one hand to run your fingers through his hair and try to keep yourself grounded to the cot and König. By the time you feel sensation in your toes again, König has already gotten you settled back in his lap with his massive arms snaked around your bare body, holing you tight against his chest.

You feel slickness not just of your own between your thighs, looking up at the Colonel with a question tugging at your eyebrows. There was no mistaking that König had finished some time through your turn and he’d either been really good at hiding it, or you’d been totally inconsiderate of noticing.

“Schön, meine Perle. Das hast du so gut gemacht,” His wet lips press to your forehead reassuringly.

“Did perfectly, so good at following orders.” His hands cradle your flushed cheeks carefully.

Thumbs brushing over your cheekbones and sliding up until he can wipe the sheen of sweat clinging in the hair of your eyebrows. You look downright angelic to him like this. Raptured by nothing more than his own desire to give you everything he possibly could of his physical and emotional being. Giving himself the most intimate position to see just what he’d fantasized about for so long. You, being loved by him. Adored just for being yourself. Pleasured, because you deserved it.

“König… didn’t you..?” Your little pants and confused look made him smile, leaning forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

He chuckled lowly against your mouth. “I did. Twice, actually.” He pecked the tip of your nose like a little praise for you.

You weren’t in any shape to fuss with the Austrian, however you did your best to put up a fight. “Let me… I wanna give you-”

“I’ve had just enough to satiate me for now,” His voice rasped a bit. “Besides, my men will be coming in for shift changes. And I don’t have enough faith in either of us to stay that quiet, meine perle.”

It was your turn to go shy and quiet, looking towards the shut -and locked- bedroom door, but forgetting that you weren’t the only two people in the area. Actually, thee was a good chance many of the men could’ve heard you making little to no effort to quiet yourself. One glance at the Colonel still holding you close to him, and you must’ve given him some sort of expression because he started laughing softly again.

“Kein Problem. Meine Männer reden nicht über uns.” You believed him.

But it was still a little intimidating. Now that it seemed everything was out it in the open, you had a lot of questions about what was going to happen, how things would work between you, or if there was even a possibility of somethingserious. The observant Colonel didn’t miss a single beat of your heart in that moment.

“Das bedeutet nicht, dass ich ihnen keinen Gesprächsstoff gebe, meine Perle,” His head nudged yours sweetly, despite his very flirty tone. “I’d like to keep you to myself. That is… if you’re okay with that?”

Nothing could stop the grin that spread onto your face.

“Ich liebe es, dein zu sein, mein König,” You wrapped you arms around his neck, kissing his ear softly. “Auch wenn du mein Höschen stiehlst.”

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