#I almost titled this a ride in the country

[darnell-la]

Can you guys please do another fic about Logan and the bartender I’m so hooked on your page🫶🏾

pairing: sub soon dom!logan howlett x bartender!reader

warnings: heavy drinking, attachment issues, heavily drink, lots of begging, oral (fem receiving), face riding while standing up, orgasm, overstimulation, dominance, submission, scratching, choking, rough fuck, cream pie, baby trapping, etc.

note: Logan feels like he needs to be more of a man. he’ll get to that after he submits to his pretty girl.

———

Logan and y/n have been in a talking stage for a month now. The man would come to her work every day, bringing lunch and sitting in the building until she clocked out, and then they’d make their way over to the bar across the street.

Getting y/n drunk was something Logan loved seeing. She was so wild, loose, and beautiful. She got along well with Wade, and of course with Vanessa.

Logan thought that maybe he’d pick up his dominance by getting her so wasted, that he could do whatever he wanted to her, letting her know he was the one in charge, and not her.

Even though he loved the way she ducked him dry that night, he felt like he had to be more of a man. He grew up in different generations where being a man was something that he needed to be.

Every single time Wade brought y/n back him, he failed. She was so damn convincing when she begged to ride him or suck him until he saw stars.

At first, he thought he won the dominance title because she’d be the one on her knees submitting to him, but by the end of the night, he was the own squirming around and begging for more or for her to take it easy on him — “please,”.

Tonight’s another night where Logan took the girl home. She’s drunk, but not as drunk as he wanted her to be. Instead, he was the one who drank too much.

“Why won’t you let me move in?” Logan whined as he leaned back on her apartment door, closing it behind him. Y/n giggled as she bent over to take her shoes off, then his.

“You’re the one that said you didn’t want to move in too early. Said you wanted to make more money and move us out somewhere away from people,” y/n reminded the man, but he wasn’t fully thinking right either way.

“Well, that’s stupid! I-I can take the TVA money and escape from this place. With you,” the man said as y/n helped him to her room, which is basically his room as well since he’s stayed over almost every night since they met.

“I told you not to use your hero money on me, babe. They gave that to you to save and spend for yourself,” Y/n reminded him about that as well.

“B-But, I am doing this for me. Wanting you around me all day is way better without seeing you work behind the counter while I’m just fucking- fucking declining Amazon orders like some robot!”

Y/n had gotten Logan a job. An online job since he whined about wanting to be around he more. All the man had to do was decline the few hundred orders that came through every week, but that was too much for him.

The man talked to her about moving out to the country where he could chop wood for a living, and she could watch him do so while drinking coffee or tea.

Y/n felt off about that idea because Logan was a superhero. An old one at that, and he didn’t need to be working, right? Sometimes she doesn’t consider his strength, but at the end of the day, she feels like she should be the one working.

“Baby, let’s just take this slow, okay? You haven’t even gotten your second paycheck — They pay you monthly and you got a good check a few days ago, right?” Y/n asked the man as he finally sat down on her bed where she put him.

“Yes,” he pouted, not wanting to argue about that money he received. He spent a lot of it on y/n already. Buying her new clothes, shoes, cooking objects, and more. He loved her cooking.

“Alright then,” y/n smiled at the man with a shake of her head. He always worried, but he didn’t have to. Y/n felt good where she was at, but Logan had been planning with Wade already.

Wade didn’t see a such thing in a talking stage between them in the first place, so when Logan came to him, planning to move forty-five minutes out to a nice new cabin and getting that wood-cutting job, Wade was all the way in.

“Using all that money to impress a girl you just met — Sounds like a damn good plan, peanuts,” was all Wade could say. He loved this for Logan, and if he had to bully and make y/n feel bad for not accepting it, he would.

“Let’s get you undressed, baby. We’ll shower tomorrow since I have to change the sheets anyway,” y/n spoke in her soft and sweet voice as she undressed the huge man.

He was a big baby, and he’d always think about that. Even now, he couldn’t help it. He loved being taken care of like this. Having a job and providing a cabin is something he had to do eventually, but letting y/n baby him, was something he could deal with.

“Are you gonna undress too?” The man asked, eyes barely being able to stay open a focused on hers. His hands reached up and tugged on the girl's shirt, wanting to help her just like she helped him.

“Yes, I am,” y/n silently laughed at the man and helped him get her undressed. “So pretty, y/n,” Logan said as soon as y/n’s bra came off. The man grabbed her breasts softly, moving them around as she took her shorts and panties off.

“Logan, not tonight. I’ve gotta work,” y/n spoke as his hands traveled the girl's body and his lips attached to a nipple. “Logan,” y/n rolled her eyes but soon gasped at the instant pleasurable feeling.

“Please, just a little,” the man looked up at her, sucking on her toy with need. “Logan, I’m so tired, and you’re too drunk,” Y/n spoke to him like he didn’t understand, but he did. His reaction was just a bit slow.

“Please, y/n — Please,” the man begged with a low growl, fingers digging into her waist. Y/n stood there for a while, looking down at the man who continued sucking, and leaving love marks.

“Fine, but only for a little,” y/n said, thinking of what he could do for her to make her stay up longer than she wished. “Get on your knees, baby,” y/n said as she stepped back.

Logan looked at the woman, confused and a bit sad his mouth wasn’t on her skin anymore. “C‘mon, we ain’t got all night,” y/n said. Logan did as told and got on his knees without thinking.

“S-Sorry,” he said, cussing himself out that he didn’t listen the first time. His girl asked him something, and he just looked at her like a deer in headlights. So fuckin’ stupid.

“Want you to make me cum,” y/n said after she spread her legs right in front of his face. The man looked up at the young lady, eyes traveling from her eyes all the way down to her cunt.

The man slightly whined as he leaned in, not taking another second to dive into her cunt. He instantly began slurping, taking in the wetness she had been hiding tonight.

“Ah- That’s it,” Y/n said, tangling her hands in his hair and then pulling him closer, now rubbing his mouth in the right places. “Mhm hm?” Logan asked muffled, wanting to make sure he was doing good for her.

“Oh, yes, baby — Always eat me so well,” y/n looked down at the older man, locking eyes with him as he kept sucking in the right spot.

You would think y/n would be the one rolling her eyes, but the one doing the rolling was Logan. After making eye contact with the pretty lady, he couldn’t help himself.

His mind was foggy, and he felt like he was drunk. Almost like he was pussy drunk, but there’s no way, right? Fuck it — There definitely was a way. He’s always this drunk for her. He needs her.

“So hot under me — Might take a picture and keep it in my wallet,” y/n said, making the man groan into her heat. Y/n’s knees bucked, instantly making her feel her cunt pulse.

“S-So close, baby — So close,” y/n gave a heads up, only making the man groan more into her cunt. He was going to cum himself. He knew he’d feel embarrassed about it right after, but right now, he needed it.

“S-Shit,” y/n’s legs almost gave out, but luckily Logan wrapped his arms around her, keeping her up and pinned onto his face. “Fuck, Logan, fuck!” the girl tugged on his hair before right as she released on his face.

The man slightly pulled away, making sure her juice would leak right out of her and into his mouth as much as it could.

Y/n’s clit throbbed hard, feeling amazing like any other night as Logan’s vision blurred, cock twitched, and in seconds, he came.

The older man buried his face into the girl's heat, muffling his own moans as he shook from the hard orgasm he didn’t know he could experience.

Y/n cried out, trying to pull the man off, but he was too lost in his own high. “L-Logan!” Y/n cried out with a crack as an aftershock hit her. Her cunt throbbed harder than usual, making her eyes cross in a way that she’s never done before.

The loud moan she let out only made Logan feel the need to do more, so he did.

The man pulled away from the girl and threw her on the bed after he stood to his feet. “L-Logan, fuck,” Y/n said, trying to catch her breath, but it didn’t take long for the man to hover over her.

“Need to fill you,” the man said, now crawling in between her legs. “No, Logan — I-I can’t anymore,” the young lady shook her head as she leaned her head back, trying to rest.

“Well, I can,” the man said before plunging into her, giving her no warning. Y/n’s loud moan filled the room as he groaned in her neck, thrusting his hips at an ungodly paste. He needed to fill her.

“L-Lo!” Y/n cried, overstimulated, but the man couldn’t think straight. He felt so fucking good, and he knew she did too.

Logan’s breathing sounded deep. Deep and animalistic as his hands grabbed the young lady's thighs on the side, scratching upwards until he heard a pleasure cry escape her mouth.

“So fucking good, baby. Need this every fucking day. No breaks!” The man said, one hand now digging into her waist as the other gripped her neck. He finally had her where he wanted.

“So fuckin’ dumb to let yourself be like this. All drunk and overstimulated. It’s my turn to dominate, baby. Mine!” Logan gripped the girl's neck, watching her jaw slack and eyes roll back.

“Gonna buy that fucking land and take that damn job. You’re gonna sit your pretty ass at him or in my truck and watch me. No more working. No more being away from me. You’re fuckin’ mine,”

Y/n wanted to say yes to everything he mentioned, feeling like she had no choice, and she didn’t. He wanted this, so she had to give it to him. She had to and needed to.

“That’s it, baby — Cum,” Logan’s voice echoed through the girl's head as her walls clenched onto him. “Fuckin’ cum,” the man spat, looking down at her as his hips snapped forward. She swears he’s about to break her.

“C-Can’t anymore,” the young girl cried, but who cared? Not him. What he said, goes. This side of being drunk felt good. The horniness after being on his knees for her, was a boost before his cock begged to feel her walls. He needed the second climax to be in her.

“L-Logan — You don’t have a condom-“ y/n tried saying, but her orgasm stopped her. The young girl cried and whined loudly, her voice sounding crackly as she came all over his cock.

Y/n was the one who suggested a condom. She didn't want the man to regret anything. Logan told her for months that he regretted nothing and never will. Night, he'll prove that to her.

“Gonna fill you up, baby — Make you unemployed,” the man threatened, but it didn’t sound too much like a threat to y/n. She wanted it, rather she was drunk on his cock or completely sober through the day.

“Fuck, yes!” The man growled through his teeth, feeling himself get closer with every thrust. “Tell me to cum in you, baby — Tell me!” The mutant man demanded the warn-out human.

“C-Cum,” y/n tried saying as her head moved side to side slowly, trying to gain her vision back, but everything was spinning. “More — More!” He demanded again. “C-Cum in m-me,” she finally got out.

Logan groaned loudly, cock pushing deep inside of the woman as his grip on her waist and neck tightened. She swore she could feel him actually filling her up until she couldn’t take anymore.

“Fuck!” He shouted, slowly pulling out and looking down. His cock was coated with so much of him and her, and she leaked so much of her and him. This was perfect. She was perfect, and now she was staying with him forever.

[theharddeck]

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone. 

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit. 

But. 

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app. 

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do. 

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play. 

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones. 

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena. 

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you. 

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy. 

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter. 

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering. 

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip. 

Why did guys in real life never moan? 

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure. 

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low. 

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only. 

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you. 

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste? 

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy,  acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin. 

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.” 

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his. 

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?” 

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper. 

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you. 

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper. 

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him. 

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?” 

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds. 

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you. 

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly. 

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl. 

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy. 

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?” 

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against. 

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded. 

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.” 

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect. 

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there. 

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow. 

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.  

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to. 

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear. 

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set. 

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you. 

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door. 

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time. 

Some might even say, with a pep in your step. 

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed. 

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat. 

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly. 

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on. 

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing). 

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person. 

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets. 

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration. 

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze. 

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too. 

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise. 

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips. 

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago. 

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.” 

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock. 

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms. 

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it). 

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal. 

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before?? 

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot. 

A knock on your door startled you. 

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically. 

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door. 

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused. 

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it. 

He looked the same. 

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you. 

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills. 

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them. 

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral. 

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away. 

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse. 

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room. 

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced. 

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t. 

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room. 

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again. 

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it. 

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep. 

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react. 

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation. 

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again. 

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you. 

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly. 

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him. 

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob. 

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway. 

Of course he did. 

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately. 

Objectively, Bob was the best. 

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you. 

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you. 

He pushed himself off the bed. 

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either. 

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay. 

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it. 

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question. 

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break. 

You kissed him. 

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer. 

He was so soft. 

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him. 

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention. 

“Can I show you?” you asked. 

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry. 

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely. 

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous. 

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him. 

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard. 

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.  

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on. 

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze. 

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently. 

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you. 

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually. 

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked. 

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob. 

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered. 

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them. 

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett. 

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard. 

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need. 

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch. 

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission. 

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations. 

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing. 

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing. 

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it. 

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric. 

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob. 

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again. 

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob. 

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering. 

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob. 

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking. 

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did. 

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled. 

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him. 

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.” 

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him. 

It was better with him. 

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing. 

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good. 

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there. 

You felt like you were floating. 

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him. 

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he? 

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life. 

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right. 

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips. 

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you. 

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself. 

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner. 

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin. 

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin. 

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned. 

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.” 

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had. 

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless. 

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered. 

He wasn’t done, either. 

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…” 

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses. 

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man. 

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace. 

You loved the feeling of his skin. 

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you. 

Fuck. 

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders. 

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric. 

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. 

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him. 

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick. 

Holy. Shit. 

He looked like a work of art. 

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl. 

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky. 

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat. 

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again. 

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it. 

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact. 

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you. 

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him. 

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them. 

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking. 

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster. 

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much. 

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly. 

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot. 

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you. 

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more. 

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn. 

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect. 

Fuck, he felt so good. 

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon. 

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked. 

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.  

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.  

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything. 

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop. 

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.  

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying. 

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core. 

He knew, somehow. 

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising. 

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…” 

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him. 

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back. 

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop. 

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant. 

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him. 

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips. 

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you. 

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you. 

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips. 

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher. 

And then. 

And then he got close. 

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you. 

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it. 

When you came back, you were on your side. 

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.  

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction. 

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

//

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

[deliciousangelfestival]

His Silly Princess | Bucky (Oneshot)

Character: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Words Count: 1,671

Summary: A modern royal love story. A naive princess who wants to get away from an arranged marriage. She never knew that her guard had loved her since the beginning. 

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Zylovia is a country where monarchy still exists. It’s a developed country located near Western Europe. 

It’s a prosperous country, and the number of unemployed is also the lowest. Tourists love coming here for the casino, race car, and music festival. 

But this country has one outdated rule. It didn’t apply to the citizens. Only for the royal family. 

“If the female royal member marries a commoner, she will lose her status."

You learned that rule when you were 12 years old as the youngest siblings and Princess Zylovia. You didn't put a deep thought into it. 

But now, when you are almost 30 years old, and your older siblings are already married, you think this is good for you.

Because you realize you’re not fit to do the duty as a princess. 

Your oldest brother has prepared since he was a kid to be the king. When he reaches the age of 40, he will be crowned as the king. Your second brother will be the second commander in the military. 

While you have a job as a painting conservator at the museum, your duty as a princess is to welcome the official foreign guest at the castle. You learned some languages, but you’re not allowed to give any opinion on politics.

You don’t hate being a royal, but sometimes you feel like living in a golden cage. 

And finally, you had enough because, on your recent birthday, your parents talked to you about marriage. 

The king and queen don’t want to be separated from their youngest daughter, but they hint that they wish for her future husband from the royal circle. In other words: arranged marriage. 

You clenched your jaw while smiling at your parents. If the man from the royal circle is a real gentleman, you wouldn’t mind. 

But the problem is, please pardon the harsh language; none of the men from the royal family are your type. 

Your type of man must have a stable job, look good in suits, and have a nice body. 

That’s why, for a couple of days, you’ve made a list of potential future husbands. After you write it, you realize most of the men are from the knights. Perhaps because you always went to meet your second brother at the military training ground, so you know some people. 

Steve Rogers

[Friendly, not married, nerd, loves to paint like me]

Ari Levinson 

[Funny, beautiful hair, handsome]

‘Knock, knock!’ Suddenly, someone knocked on your door.

“Come in.”

You didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. You have known him for years, and your ears are familiar with the sound of his footsteps. 

The person who walked into your room has been your exclusive bodyguard for years - James Barnes, but you always call him Bucky his nickname. 

Bucky is a commoner and an elite soldier. If there’s a shooting competition, he will be in the top three. Your second brother always hates him. 

He has received many medals of honors, but he rejects a knight title from your father. You don’t understand why he declined the offer. If he received it, he could enter politics, and he doesn’t have to follow her around anymore. 

He’s tall, handsome, with perfect blue eyes and has fine muscles on his body. Bucky also has a primarily female fanbase when he wears the military uniform and rides a horse at the independence ceremony. 

He became a celebrity overnight.

But you have never seen or heard any rumor about him with a woman. 

“Your highness, in two hours you are going to attend the tennis tournament.” 

You dropped the pen and dropped your head to the table. “Urgh. Do I have to?”

Bucky chuckled when he saw you unwilling to go. One thing you hate about your duty is to be the guest at the tennis game. You prefer to watch the race car, but it's reserved for your brother's. 

Even though you didn’t want to go, you still dragged your feet to the dressing room to grab your coat. 

When you were searching for the right outfit, you suddenly remembered. “Oh no!” You didn’t hide the potential list that you just wrote. You wish you could dig your own grave and disappear. 

And you were right; Bucky saw your writing. He furrowed his eyebrows while he read your paper. “What’s this? Potential man for marriage?”

You stand beside him; you don’t know why you feel scared. This is the first time you have seen him like this. 

His slender, pointed fingers scratched the two names with his nails. There’s a big X on your paper. 

“Don’t marry any of those men.”

“Why?”

A small smile appeared on his lips, along with a soft voice, “Steve hasn’t moved on from his last girlfriend, and Ari, he loves to drink alcohol. I know you hate the smell of alcohol.”

You felt disappointed; you crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash.

“Marriage? Why all of a sudden?” There's an annoyed tone in his voice.

You rubbed your head and muttered, “I need to get married sooner, or my parents will arrange marriage for me, their friend's kid. And you know the truth, I had enough of being a princess.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “But, why them?”

“What?”

He clenched his fist; Bucky stared at her with an annoyed expression. “Why didn't you put me on the list?”

“....”

You waved your hand. “It doesn’t matter, as long as I got married.”

“So, would you like to marry me?”

Are you having hallucinations? Did Bucky just propose to you?

Bucky got on his knees. “Let’s get married.”

You still haven’t come to your senses. Bucky started talking again. “Think about it. Both of us have known each other for a long time. We’ve known each other's likes and dislikes. We’ve been through many things together.”

He’s right. He’s the safest choice if you want to marry someone. You shrugged your shoulders and accepted his hand. “Alright.”

Bucky's beautiful smile appeared on his face. Before he shook your hand, he felt you slightly pull his hand. When you saw him smile, your heart raced. “But, if in the end, we don’t like each other, please wait after three years, then we could get a divorce.”

Bucky chuckled; his attractiveness is not just in his physical appearance but also in his ability to manage his emotions gracefully and restraintfully. He leaned closer to you, and his hands gently grabbed your chin. 

As his calloused hand touched your skin, a subtle warmth spread on your cheeks. You could feel you're blushing. “Silly girl, it will never happen.”

#######

[Bucky P.O.V]

Then he rests your arms on his. “Then you have the excuse to skip the tournament.”

“Hmm?”

“We should inform this first to His Majesty and Her Majesty.”

“Oh, right.” You nodded, then looked straight into his blue eyes again. “This soon?”

********

When both of you walk through the hallway to meet the King and Queen, Bucky tries his best to calm down. He almost lost his common sense when he saw you write another man's name, and there’s a word of ‘potential husband.’

He looks at you and thinks ‘his silly princesses didn’t realize his feelings for her.’ 

Didn’t she know he declined the offer to be a knight so he could be her guard?

If he became a knight, he would work with her second brother. That’s the last thing he wants to do. 

“So, Bucky, don’t worry about money. When I resign as a princess, the kingdom will give us money.”

Bucky chuckled, seeing his sweet princess worried about their future, “That’s so sweet of you. But you don’t need to worry about that.” He gently patted her arms. He wants to tell you that he owns the famous casino in this kingdom and 5-star hotel chains in a few countries.

When both of you are married, Bucky will ensure you don’t have to work anymore. He is pretty sure that her parents will give their blessings even though he’s a commoner (and he’s super rich). The royal family has outdated rules, but because of it, he could marry you. 

Both of you arrived at the king's office room. The guards bowed their heads to greet you. Then you said, “Princesses Y/N and her guard. Wait… and her future husband, James Barnes wants to meet the king.”

The guards and the butler who opened the door lost their composure. They should have known from your body language walking here together hand in hand when usually Bucky always stands behind you. 

This news is shocking compared to the crown prince, who got caught partying too hard and the second prince, who had a messy love life before he got married. 

It seems like your father, the King, hears your voice. Before the castle butler tells him, you hear the gentle voice, “Come in.”

########

[2 years later]

<Former Princess of Zylovia Y/N, blessed with male twins>

It's the biggest headline in the country after you gave birth. You feel overwhelmed; you can't believe that you're parents now. 

The King and Queen hold your oldest son, while Bucky has the youngest son in his arms. 

Bucky's eyes are full of love, looking both at his sons. He was almost scared to death since you gave birth one month early. But the doctor assured both of you this is normal since you're pregnant with twins. 

Even though you're not a princess, you're still surrounded by your family. 

And Bucky still treats you like a princess. You almost lost your mind when he told you his business, which turned into your parents, and your brothers already know it, too. 

You want to knock your head; you didn't even know Bucky's business helped increase the country's GDP. 

Everyone said Bucky was the lucky guy to marry the former princess, but they were wrong. It's you who is lucky to marry him.

-End-

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[bokettochild]

Little Soldier Boy, Come Marching Home

I apparently had some Uncle Aflon brainrot (could y'all tell?) and it spawned this monster!

Not sure if I'm actually going to make a story about this, I mean a proper one, but this refused to let my brain rest until I wrote at least this much, so I figured I'd share it for the folks who kept sending me Aflon asks :)

(Yes I am very aware that the title is from a song, I'd recommend listening to the Reinaeiry cover on YouTube, because it's also rotted my brain since I listened to it and I think it suits Aflon and Legend quite well T-T)

-

  The first time he held Link, it was standing on the edge of the wood, away from the eyes of all the kingdom and under a veil of darkness. The forest chattered and whispered behind him, bringing to mind whispers of thieving Kolkiri and fae, and it had made him hold the babe in his arms all the tighter. 

  His sister-in-law was watching him closely, hands hovering, wary, like she didn’t trust him to hold the child quite right, ready every second to take the positively tiny bundle back from him and tuck that red and fitful face back against her own breast, hushing and cooing softly herself as she’d been when he’d arrived there. She didn’t though, although whether that was due to his own skill or some sort of restraint from the woman, he wasn’t certain. 

  ���What’s the little ‘us name then?” He’d asked, pushing down the swaddling of rough fabric, far too rough for so small a thing, but lined carefully with far finer where no eyes could see. The child within trembled, cold air drawing a wavering wail from a tiny mouth. There wasn’t much to see anyways, he was a baby, same as anyone had ever had. Far smaller than Aflon had ever seen before though; so small he almost could hold him in one hand alone, but by all other means the tiny creature wasn’t much to look at. 

  Despite that though, Loretta’s dark gaze hadn’t lifted once from the infant, usually stern features awash with pure adoration as one trailing hand lifted the blanket back up to shield the babe once more. “Link.” 

  “Like the hero?” The dead one? 

  “Like the star,” her hands lingered so close to the face of her child, and in answer, the tiny one stilled, quieting as though some spell was laid over him. “Like the boy who brought hope to dark countries when Hyrule was at her worst.” 

  “Sir Raven’s squire.” 

  She’d nodded. “The same.” 

  And the child was just, well, a child; a tiny wee thing that felt so fragile to hands accustomed to the sword, and Aflon had shaken his head with a sigh, turning to Loretta with the question that had plagued him since he’d been given his riding orders this morning with the command to meet her here. “Why me?” 

  Those had been the words to make her draw back, pain welling up behind dark violet eyes that avoided his own. “There’s no one else I can ask.” 

  “He’s your son.” 

  “Which is the same as a sentence of death,” she’d hissed, tone harsh as her blade, “you know as well as I how Hyrule sees its crown. You took a vow the same as any other knight.” 

  He had. 

  “That child,” her child, “stands no chance, no matter what I do, if I keep him with me.” 

  Aflon had shifted, sparing the bundle in his arms a glance one more before murmuring, “his chances are pretty slim regardless, ‘Etta. Babes this small-” 

  “I know,” She’d run a finger along a tiny cheek, face pinching into something bordering on gentle, on sweet, something no one would describe the woman as save with her steads, “But it’s the best I can give him.” 

  He’d felt the weight of those words, the weight of their expectation, and all the more so when the Queen of all Hyrule had lifted violet eyes to hold his own and given him her final command. “Protect him, Aflon. He’s not just your prince, he’s your nephew, and I swear on hell’s ashes if you fail him, I will flay you.” Typically, he’d have assumed her words to be in jest, but the fire behind her eyes, a furious and dangerous love the likes of which he’s only heard tell of a mother for her babe, had made him take the words to heart. 

  “I won’t fail you, your grace.” 

  “No,” she’d stepped closer, pulled his arms down just a bit further so she could duck her head and press a kiss to a tiny cheek, “don’t fail him. All else doesn’t matter-” 

 “The princess-” 

 “I will mind the princess,” Loretta’s eyes had darkened, “and failing that, the Impa sent is a good one. Your priority is him,” and both of them had turned to the child, a child so tiny he almost weighed nothing, but yet lay so heavy in his arms with duty set beside him. “He needs you.” 

  And he did. He hadn’t seen it then, hadn’t felt it, but even a man made in blood and battle knows the worth of life. And so, somehow, he’d managed. 

  He’d carried his little charge back to the closest village and taken a room, managing to ignore the curious and lingering gazes of the locals at a young knight in full armor with a tiny baby in his arms.  

  In truth, he hadn’t been sure where to go from there. Loretta had entrusted him with her child, which meant all other missions, whatever they might be, were out of the question. His duty as a knight, as a soldier, was now changed, which, all considered, wasn’t the worst fate in the world. Still, he’d mused, staring at the tiny creature that slept more than he stirred, it’s not exactly the life he’d imagined for himself. 

  They’d always been knights, or so his own father had taught himself and his brother. The men in their family take up the sword and the women the plow and reigns of a rancher. Their older sister already is married with her own farm, and goodness knows Banzetta himself, though king consort, still carries his blade as the second in command to their warrior queen. For himself, Aflon has never imagined anything else than to serve as his forefathers, perhaps to marry, although there’s no woman who’s caught his eye as of yet, or at least none he’d be keen to stay beside for all his life. He can’t continue traveling Hyrule though, not with a tiny child in his care, not when the world out there is still so dangerous and dark. 

  For days, he’d stayed at the inn. He’d had no direction or clue, but he’d done his best to mind the tiny princeling in his care, although his attempts must have been very poorly indeed because it wasn’t long at all before two of the local village women had been knocking down his door and scolding him left right and sideways. 

  Without the women of Kakariko, Aflon could say for a certainty that neither he nor Link would have made it through that winter. They had though. The ladies of Kakariko nursed his precious nephew alongside their own children, taught himself how to change and clean a child, how to swaddle them up tight against the cold, how to burp and soothe them. He’d listened with care, listened like they were marching orders from a commanding officer, and he’d taken them all to heart, employing every bit of skill imparted to best fulfill his duty to the child in his care. 

  Thankful as he was for those women, the many mothers of Kakariko, young and old both, there was still, despite their care, a fear that gripped him each time one of them took up Link in their arms. The babe was a prince of Hyrule, and were that known it would be easy to stage some incident to see that the bad omen that was a royal son was no more. The women of the village would laugh, saying that anxiety for a child was normal, but they had no conception how deeply his fear ran each time one of them held the boy, each time he had to turn his back on his helpless charge for even the smallest of moments. 

  Come spring, he’d settled, bought a piece of land with the money he’d saved over the years and made a home for himself. As it happened, an old orchard had been up for sale, just close enough to the village to keep in touch with those who’d shown them kindness, but with enough distance that he no longer felt the need to be on the defense at all times against neighbors who might seek to harm the boy in his care. 

  They’d asked, some of the village folk, if the baby was his. For lack of a better response, he’d said Link was his brother’s. No one questioned it. Why would they? He was a stranger to them, and though chatter would sound on street corners wondering what had happened to lead him, ‘a clueless young man who hasn’t the faintest on how to mind a babe’ to have care of Link, but they’d never asked him anything more, just gone on offering advice. 

  That was fine though. That was better than them all assuming he was the father, because it felt wrong to allow such a misconception. He couldn’t say why, but when a parent still lives and wants their child, there’s no right for another to claim them as their own. Besides, he couldn’t be a father. 

  As it was, some days he felt he was doing a terrible job of being an uncle. 

  And he hadn’t thought of himself as such at first, but somewhere amid long nights sitting up, just watching labored breaths from a body almost too frail to take them, somewhere amid whispered words with doctors who’d told him to let go already, with midwives who’d urged him to keep fighting as long as his little one did, somewhere along the line of spending every day forever in the presence of the child, there’d come a day when he’d stopped worrying about his charge, and where he’d started fretting about his nephew. 

  Maybe it was those moments of clarity and wakefulness when big bright eyes would stay up at him, so curious. When floppy little ears would follow the sounds of his voice, or tiny hands would cling fast to an offered finger, toothless jaws working at its tip with little coos and warbles. He couldn’t say. But somewhere in that first winter he’d gone from a knight with a charge to an uncle with a nephew, and he’d never wanted to go back. 

  Sure, it was hard some days. Link was a sickly baby from the start, and he grew slowly. He was bright though, so very bright, like a star as his mother had said, and with every passing day those eyes so like the queen’s own had filled up with their own constellations of joy and smiles, tiny hands clapping, little feet stumbling.  

  Despite all concerns and doubts, his little Link beat the odds. 

  The child was his sunshine. He’d never been a very social man, so the company of a single boy wasn’t bad at all in his opinion. Granted, with just the two of them it had raised concerns when Link hadn’t learned to speak when he should, and for a time he’d wondered if perhaps it was for a lack of him having used words enough for the little one to know them, but in time he’d accepted that words weren’t to be had, and while some village folk would murmur that a changeling might have been traded for his precious bundle, stolen by jealous kolkiri in vengeance for their own lost little one, he’d never minded too much. He’d learned to speak with his hands from the village elder, and so Link had as well, and by that means they’d gotten along quite well until the wee one had made up his mind to try for actual sounds. 

  His old friends from the army were company at times, stopping in between missions and runs, catching a drink or a place to stay. He used to worry about exposing Link to the life he’d known among them, but in front of the child they’d all minded well, many even offering help and kindness he’d never dare to ask for. Some had children of their own, they said, others younger siblings. Regardless of the reason though, not a man would enter his home as didn’t have a kind word for his nephew, and while worry still brewed up within to see Loretta’s child among men sworn to prevent his existence, not a one had ever guessed at the truth. 

  And then everything had changed when Link turned eight. 

  He’d been talking by then. Belated though it was, words would come to him at times, although he’d prefer his hands over his tongue. Despite the murmurs of locals though, the boy was bright, sitting up more often than not with whatever book Aflon could find for him and positively devouring anything inside of them, big violet eyes near glittering in delight at the world painted for his eager mind, at the discoveries and worlds and words and stories- heavens did his little star love the stories! He had ever so much to say about what he read, and a smile brighter than the sun itself, and small though he still was, weak though he’d likely always be, Aflon adored the boy that ran to his arms at every day’s end and shared home and heart with him. 

  He’d had doubts, in the beginning, that he could settle to a quiet life, but it never felt quiet with Link so eagerly learning about it beside him, indeed, it felt like he’d only just learned what it was to be alive for himself! 

  And every day was a new adventure, teaching his nephew something new or finding himself taught some lesson or fact. Every night was settling down before the fire and holding firm against the plea of “one more page!” before smothering his precious Link in mustachioed kisses and tucking him in tight against the chill of the night. Sometimes they were disturbed with guests and his efforts would be in vain, but nine times out of ten when that did happen, Captain Bertram or Major Wilkins would take the lad back to bed and recount enough stories to finally have him dozing off against them, ready to be tucked back in again upon their departure. 

  He wouldn’t have changed that life for the world though. 

  Yet, the world seemed to have other plans. 

  Link had startled awake in the middle of a storm one night, tearfully insisting that something was wrong, that there was danger, that Zelda, the sister he didn’t know was his even then, was in danger and that she’d told him so herself.  

  To another man, it might have been nothing, just a bad dream, but Aflon had himself woken before to the sound of startled cries sounding through an army camp. He could remember when the queen would awake from a vision while traveling with himself and his brother, and many a time, Banzetta had recounted to him when it happened that he hadn’t seen. It was in their blood, the people of Hyrule would say, that those of the royal line would sometimes be given visions, often of future events and or trouble brewing beyond even the eyes of the Sheikah. That was how all the prophecies surrounding his own family had come about, how the reappearance of a hero had been foretold. 

  So, upon hearing such strange words from the mouth of his nephew, rather than beg him return to bed or otherwise ignore it, Aflon had taken it to heart. After all, he’d been reminded, looking down at the tear-stained face at his bedside, Link may be his nephew, but he was also still Loretta’s son; still born with the blood of the crown, a prince of Hyrule. 

   So, although Loretta had told him to leave Zelda’s care to herself long ago, back when she and Banzetta were still alive and before some mission had gone awry and the both were lost forever- despite the fact that the Impa chosen by the sheikah had, indeed, never once failed in her duties, he’d still chosen to attend to the fears of his nephew and brave the storm, just in case. He’d chosen to risk it, even if it did mean he’d strayed from his orders. 

  He wishes every day that he hadn’t.  

  If only he’d done as Loretta said and minded Link first and foremost, maybe nothing would have changed. If only he’d promised that in the morning they would go together- although, looking back, he knows the princess would have been dead by that time if he had. 

  He’s long come to grips with the fact that whatever he had done, there would have been no happy ending, but even so, he still hates himself that he had allowed what happened next. 

  Rather than tell him to go home, rather than protect him, shield him from the world his mother never wanted him to know, Aflon had looked into the terrified eyes of his nephew, down in the depths of the castle sewers where the boy had followed him against his orders, he’d used his final breaths to push a sword and shield into hands too small to hold them, bidding the child go to save Zelda. He’d known he was dying, he’d known Link was scared, but at that little obedient nod, he’d also known something more: 

  His death would leave Link the last of their bloodline, and a prophecy given to a queen long ago had once said that it would be the last of them that would face Ganon when next he emerged. Looking at eyes the same as Loretta’s own, albeit far kinder, he’d found himself reminded of those words, and sickeningly certain that he was witnessing the birth of that hero. His little Link who wanted to be a farmer, who didn’t know how to fight and who was still so tiny, so young, was going to become the Hero of Hyrule. 

  Though he’d been bleeding out as they spoke, he’s rather certain it was heartbreak that had been his undoing, not the wound in his side, and he’d drawn his final breath to the sound of sniffled tears. 

  Yet, it seemed his eyes had only just closed before they were opening again, pain gone and so too his young charge. At first, he’d thought perhaps he’d struck his head somehow and dreamed the whole thing, but both sword and shield were gone as well, although when he reached the end of the sewer system the prison was quiet, empty of any princess, and when he’d turned back and returned to the outside world, not only was it daylight, but it was spring. 

  It had been a late autumn storm that he’d traveled through to reach the castle. 

  He’d thought, hoped, that it was some trick, but when he’d hurried along back towards town, to the house, everyone he passed seemed to think nothing at all of the fact that they were plowing fields and making ready for a planting. They were preparing for a new year of work, as though the winter itself wasn’t supposed to be coming, as though it had already happened! And there were still bits of snow lying about. There was a dampness to the ground of a fresh fallen rain. The world itself seemed insistent it tell him that he was wrong. But if he was, then where had the time gone, and what had happened? Where was Link and why was his side unmarred as though never an ax had plowed through it? 

  His feet had all but flown down the paths, paying little or no mind to those he passed or the startled shouts they sent his way. His goal had been set; his destination desperately darted towards. 

  The house looked entirely normal when he’d finally reached it. The orchard was beginning to brighten, not yet blooming, still expecting another snap of cold before the season truly sprung, but they were well along to blossoming. The path was clear, nothing and no one on it, and when he’d come to the door, he’d found it locked up tight. As it should be, as he’d left it, as he’d taught Link to leave it. He still had his key with him even though his sword was missing, and though his hands trembled he’d still managed to fish it out and, with some struggle, had gotten it into the lock. 

  The house looked the same as it had when he left. Clean as a whistle because a soldier’s training still lingered with him even after eight years and that expectation was one that he’d taught Link to hold himself to as well. Their beds were made sloppily, as though the boy had tried to do it for him after he’d left and maybe given up after, or else simply been unable to see, from his height, how crookedly the blankets had been lain. Most notably though, Aflon had noted, there wasn’t much in the way of dust. There wasn’t much in the way of dirt. The only difference that he found was that the pot, which he kept by the door for spare rupees, was empty. 

  His breath had evened some at that. A clean house meant someone had minded it, and missing rupees were nothing if it meant Link hadn’t been left to starve in the unidentified period of time where Aflon had been absent. 

  Or so he had thought. 

  It was two days later, two days he’d spent searching the whole neighborhood, quite at the end of his rope in fear as Link hadn’t been seen at all in that time, when at last he’d laid eyes on his nephew. 

  Or rather, when he’d met the hero. 

  Because the wary creature that entered the cottage door and froze, hand on a sword and dark eyes so large in a thin face, was not his nephew. Because his nephew would have run to him with maybe a few tears or a cheer, jumping into his arms with a hug rather than start and draw a blade the moment Aflon made a motion towards him. 

  Link didn’t fear him. 

  The boy who came to him in Link’s stead did. 

  When he voiced his worries to the women who’d helped to mind the lad over the years, some would say perhaps he’d been taken, changed for a changeling by the forest children, at last getting their hands on a hero to replace their own. Others just shook their heads and sighed, unwilling to explain why. 

  He’d known though that the child in his home wasn’t a changeling though. No, because that child had eyes every bit as much like the late queen. Eyes that knew war, and battle, that bore the burden of a kingdom which dragged on too small shoulders, eyes that Knew, that Looked, and eyes that Saw people for what they were, not simply what they’d claim to be. There was no doubt, looking at that boy, that he was Loretta’s son. 

  But he wasn’t Aflon’s nephew. 

  Link was bright and bubbly, quieter by nature but prone to prattling when the mood took him. The silent little thing that lived in his house, wary like a rabbit hunted and hidden, was a stark contrast. Link liked to travel with him, going to town for any errands and skip-tripping along the path at his side, getting distracted by small creatures and ever full of questions.  

  Not only did the hero avoid going out of the house when he could, preferring instead to stay inside behind a locked-up door and shuttered windows, but when he did go out, the lad was ever scanning the world, ever watching the sky and the path as though expecting an attack from one or the other. He didn’t stray off towards sudden changes, curious ears cocked, he put a hand to his shoulder and looked for a blade. 

  The child that came back to him held the manner and look of an old knight, not a child too young to even be a page, and it disturbed him. He tried though. This was Loretta’s son, the prince of Hyrule, and as he’d later learned, the boy had indeed become the country’s hero. Not that the boy had told him that himself. No, the child in his home didn’t speak, tongue faltering and sounds stuttering before hands would lift to answer questions in as few words as possible. 

  Two of his fingers were crooked, Aflon realized, watching him, heart aching. Two fingers and, in those first days, he’d favor one leg over the other. 

  He wanted to help, but the boy was wary of touch, starting and panicking as a first reaction if he didn’t see it coming and wincing even when he could. He kept a wide space between himself and anyone, a swords-distance, Aflon realized after a spell, although as for the blade he carried, well, that had disappeared after the first few weeks. It wasn’t the sword he’d handed to his nephew though. The sword that the hero held was unfamiliar to him; radiant, beautiful, masterfully forged so that his own blade paled in comparison. His was absent, and the one time he had asked what happened to it, he’d just watched violet eyes fall and shoulders hunch, and immediately changed the subject. 

  It was hard. His nephew looked the same as Loretta’s child, same face, same form, same stature, although time had made her changes too. The boy was scrawny, and though he had hoped his lost rupees meant his charge was still fed even with him gone, he’d come to doubt that. 

  He wasn’t sure what to make of it when, at learning of his own return, one of the neighbors down the road had invited them both for dinner, and the hero child had only stared at his own plate, stirring the food around but not eating. He’d dismissed it at first, but soon it became abundantly clear that the hero would not eat food he couldn’t watch being prepared, not unless it was a meal offered by Aflon himself, and, to his own surprise, Dolly, the village elder’s wife. 

  Somehow, both she, Dolly, and Sahasralah, the elder, were the only ones who seemed unaffected by how his charge had changed. In fact, more than once, Aflon would find himself watching, wistful, as the two would speak with or even handle the hero with not a thing done to show fear in response. Simple acceptance met their motions, their words, and at times he’d almost been tempted to ask if maybe the boy that wore Link’s face wanted to stay with them instead, as he seemed so much more at peace in their home. 

  He didn’t though. He’d sworn a vow, a vow to do his duty to his prince, to his queen, and though he wasn’t certain if Loretta’s spirit would haunt him if he failed that, he wasn’t exactly keen to find out. 

  He couldn’t leave her son with strangers, with people she didn’t know or trust. Still, as the days passed, house silent as a crypt and the boy inside nearly the corpse it housed, he’d found the temptation growing daily. 

  At night as he’d blow out the lamps, now knowing full well not to approach his charge in the dark and sometimes fearing to even look at him (because what looked back was a slip of a shade with eyes glinting red like a rabbit’s in the low light of the hearth and by all means hardly human) he’d fight his own mind on the matter. Stay or leave, linger with what wasn’t any longer what he’d sword to protect, the child that wasn’t his nephew but was a hero. 

  Loretta said to protect him, he’d remind himself as he lay beneath the blankets. Yet, small hands knew the touch of blood, and the boy who’d wandered in at his door knew a blade like knights four times his age still hadn’t learned. Lying there at night, he’d wonder to himself, what was there left to protect the boy from? Loretta’s child already had seen everything she wanted to shield him from, so what was even the point, when there was no more innocence to shield? 

  It was that thinking, after weeks, months, that had led to him gathering up clothing and books, toys left behind because the person who would leave with him wasn’t a child but a young soldier, so what did they matter? He’d packed things up, watched the hero slip to his side to help, dutifully but silently gathering Link’s clothes and folding them up with the same careful effort Link always did, ending with the same misshapen result, and tucking them away like they would do every summer for the trip back to his own childhood home. 

  He’d locked the door tight that summer. Shut up the shutters and minded that nothing was left untended, no mess within or without. Long ears had cocked sideways, big eyes watching, curious, but nothing was said with scarred hands holding their bags while he prepared the house for their departure. 

  Most summers, he’d take Link down to Lon-Lon so the boy could stay with his grandparents and Aflon could attend to the heavier tasks of their orchard without worrying over minding the lad or leaving him feeling alone. This year though, after Mother had ushered the boy within the ranch house, shooting him a startled stare over his shoulder, he’d not gone back to the cottage. 

  Aflon Lon had, instead, taken to the road. 

  Guilt ate at him, but he’d known there was no going back.  

  He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t return to the house. It wasn’t home without the laughter of his nephew, without bright eyes and brighter smiles. It wasn’t home without a presence at his side working away at the trees, muttering and talking at times to the birds who’d stop to watch them in their labor. It wasn’t home without Link, and Link- or at least the boy he knew, was gone. 

 So, he’d wandered Hyrule. He hadn’t traveled in a long while, but it was easy to take up again, to wander the roads by day and make camp at night. He stopped in old haunts he used to visit as a knight to see how they had changed, and he’d thought nothing of his wanderings. After all, it was summer; the summers were always free for him to do what he wanted. It was when autumn had begun to show her colors that guilt had well and truly began to build up inside of him. 

  Link would be waiting at the gates of Lon-Lon, watching the road for his uncle to come and bring him home. He knew it wouldn’t be the same eager stare, ears crooked and head rested on folded arms as the boy would perch on the rungs of the fence, leaning his whole weight against it and keeping eyes and ears on the road. The hero child would likely sit with more wariness, but despite all changes there was no doubt in Aflon’s mind that he’d wait all the same. 

  The difference though, the real one, was that this time, Aflon couldn’t come back. He couldn’t. 

  He couldn’t go back to that house, that child, he couldn’t live like that forever, with the shade of what should have been. 

  Mother and Father though, they could handle a soldier boy. They’d handled Banzetta after his first battles, they’d know how to work with Loretta, and if they could manage the parents of his own charge, he was sure theft were the best suited to handling a young hero. Not only that, but they were safe, they were good, and they’d never hurt Link for the circumstances of his birth. They would be better to him than Aflon could be, and given time, he was sure the hero would settle there again, into a life with a knight, a lady, a history of heroes all around him on the walls and swords ready for his hands; the life he’d taken on, but one Aflon couldn’t watch lived. 

  As for himself, he’d wander. He’d travel, he’d embrace the world he’d had to forsake for a small bundle. By winter, he’d gone further south than he’d ever strayed, gone where word of the hero didn’t reach, where peace and simplicity beckoned. He’d meant to resist, but an evening in a bar with a pretty woman at his side had changed that. 

  “Here alone, stranger?” She’d asked, voice thick with a drawl and gaze bold as she’d settled beside him. 

  He’d never been a bold man, quiet by nature, so he’d nodded. 

  She hadn’t been dissuaded, motioning to the barkeep for a round for them both before striking up chatter, asking where he was from? What brought him here? Where was he going? And his answer of course had been that he was from central Hyrule, seeking his fate and unsure where he’d find it. 

  “D’ya have a family?” She’d asked, honest and friendly. “Can’t be easy for them not knowing where you are.” 

  And he’d hesitated, just a moment, before offering a stilted smile and answering “just my parents and a sister.” 

  A sister who’d left, he told her, to marry a man from across the border, who visited at times but was busy with a farm and a family of her own, much like his own parents were even in their older age. He’d said nothing of a nephew, just the same as he’d left out the dead older brother and sister-in-law. 

  He’d lingered in that town for a few more days, and she’d been at the pub each night, coming to join him when he entered and striking up chatter until they were both looking forwards to the evening when they’d happen upon each other. Somehow though, that had turned to arranged meetings, to wandering, to talking, to a kiss that left him speechless and a courtship that left him stumbling and eager like he hadn’t been since he was just a boy. 

  He’d wondered how she hadn’t had a fella before he’d come, but he’d thanked the heavens for it too, especially when he’d proposed, when they’d taken a home together, when they’d made the choice to live life together. 

  It was easy to forget, for a while, in that early bliss, in the whirlwind of emotions, what he’d left behind to find it. He was reminded though when their own little one was born, when a little boy had been laid in his arms and he’d started when blue shone back at him rather than violet. 

  Liza would laugh and tease him, calling him a worrywart when he fussed. She’d say it was like he’d never held a child before; he was so cautious. She’d remind him to relax, when she found him sitting up and watching the wee one slumber, because he was healthy, he was fine, they needn’t worry so much because while babies need care, they won’t break if you breathed wrong. 

  Aflon couldn’t help himself though. 

  He was used to looking for signs of trouble, for any hint of illness. He’d started when their boy had started babbling, started talking, at only two years old. Liza had said that was normal, that they wouldn’t stay babies forever, that it was part of growing up. Still, he’d found himself signing more than speaking with the boy, and more times than he could count, the wrong name had slipped to his lips. 

  Their son had dark hair like his mother, blue eyes like Aflon himself, but it always startled him to see them. It was supposed to be strawberry blonde, with starlit skies veiled beneath. He expected a slip of a child who was quiet but eager, not a loud little thing that ran and darted and climbed and made him panic because Link was fragile! …except this wasn’t Link, and his son was strong, like him, like Liza. His son was bold, loud, like a little boy was supposed to be, not timid and wary like the boy he’d left behind. 

  It never stopped catching him off guard though. Their little Rusl didn’t care anything for books, or reading, or sitting still. He was always off with other children of the village; he was always climbing trees and ‘sword fighting’ other young ones with twigs they’d find on the roadside. 

  He was a normal boy, all told, but somehow that was more jarring, in so many ways, than if he hadn’t been. Because Aflon had never dealt with a normal boy, he realized. Even Before, his Link hadn’t been normal, he just hadn’t known to see it. 

  It was strange, how often Rusl would stare, watching people without those hesitant little falters that Link always had when someone met his eyes. He didn’t pay attention to the little details, didn’t care to watch the sky or the sun. He didn’t care about stars or tiny creatures or pouring over books the same size as himself for hours. 

  The one thing that the two boys did have in common though, was a love for stories of heroes. 

  Link used to bury his little button nose in the volumes of history that told of the Hero of the Four Sword, the Hero of the Skies: the chosen hero. Rusl didn’t read much, but one day he’d come back to their home with Liza after errands, and he’d had nothing on his mind except some story he’d heard about the Hero of Legends. 

  Aflon had paused in making dinner, frowning because he’d never heard of that hero before, because Link never spoke of that title. 

  “Who is the Hero of Legend?” He’d asked, turning to the dirt streaked four-year-old at the door. 

  “He’s who killed Ganon and saved Princess Zelda!” Had been his answer. “He’s so cool, I wish he’d come to our village so I could meet him!” 

  He hadn’t realized, until Liza had darted across the kitchen and scooped up the pot, that their meal had boiled over, or that it’d burned his hand when it did. 

  Rusl and his friends would talk about Link, pretend to be Link, say they wanted to be heroes like him, be knights, be brave. He’d be in the village and stories would sound, gossip between neighbors recounting the latest exploits of the Hero of Legend. He’d killed Ganon twice, he’d traveled the world, he’d saved Labrynna from a witch, he’d fought some tyrant down in Holodrum. Everyone had a different rumor that they’d heard, everyone a different thought on what the hero might be like. Despite all they’d chatter about though, all he could see in his own mind was a boy with heavy eyes and crooked fingers that trembled when he used them to talk. 

  Aflon had gone home that day, after hearing all the chatter, all the stories, all the news that had come down to them from some merchant who’d strayed to town, and he’d told Liza he was taking a trip. 

  “Just for a few days,” he’d said, wrapping arms around her and trying to smile, even though he’d known she’d see past it. “Just to see how my parents are doing.” He’d left out the part about his old house, about the child he’d raised inside it. He knew it was wrong, felt guilt eat away each time his mind turned there, but he’d never let slip about the boy he’d raised before meeting her, the child he’d left behind. 

  Link, as he’d known him, was gone, why speak of what wasn’t there any longer? Why drag everything he’d tried to leave behind into the perfection he’d stumbled himself into? 

  Still, he needed to know, needed to see, and maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted to see Loretta’s boy again, just to assure himself that he was alright, because try as he might, much as he wished, worry still plagued his heart for the little soldier boy he’d left at Lon-Lon. 

  He’d stopped by the house first, if only out of curiosity for what had become of it. It had been years, had the village elders sold it? Left it be? He didn’t know, so he’d taken the road around Kakariko, hood up as he passed old neighbors, boots stumbling some on a path he knew better than that back to his own wife and child. 

  The cottage hadn’t changed a bit. Standing on the path, apple trees shivering in a slight breeze, he’d almost felt a decade younger, almost tricked himself into thinking he’d need only open the old wood door, the door whose key still sat heavy in his pocket, and a bright little face would whip around to meet him, gap-toothed grin his welcome home as feet would pit-patter across the worn-out floors. Maybe it was that image that tricked his feet into walking, following a path altered only by shade of trees grown taller in his absence, their fruit hanging heavy but not yet ready to be plucked.  

  It’d be cider making season soon, he’d mused to himself, hand digging through his pocket for a key he couldn’t name why he still carried. Absently, he wondered if the old press was still down in the basement, if Link- because it must be Link- had minded to keep it oiled and tended, or if he’d left off using it. After all, the former knight chuckled, the boy couldn’t even turn the handle fully on his own, now could he? 

  His mind had been so caught in his thoughts he hadn’t been minding his surroundings, pushing the door open after a moment’s struggle (the key stuck more than it once used to) and moving to enter his old home. He hadn’t expected to be immediately whacked over the head, nor, when he’d picked himself up again, to find himself face to… face(?) with a masked figure. 

  “We aren’t open!” The purple clad individual had declared, mallet in hand, and a small creature with wings- which could in no ways be considered a bird- fluttering about at his shoulders, squawking and hissing something terrible. “And if you thought you could break in, you’re dead wrong!” 

  Aflon had blinked, slowly, and then started, gaze flying about the house briefly. 

  It wasn’t changed, not really. Pictures were all taken down and boxes were tucked against the walls, but the couch, the rocking chair, the china-cabinet, it was all still there, still in the same places, now with new stains and scuffs, but he could recognize them all the same. Really, the only major difference was the desk near the door scattered over with glittering items and objects, little price tags set before them in poor mimicry of a shop. 

  He wasn’t sure if the purple clad figure was meant to be here or not, but given that the house still technically belonged to him, he’d been more than slightly caught off guard. 

  “I’m not here for a shop, I- who are you?” 

  “Who are you?” The apparent merchant had demanded in answer, face shielded behind a hood that looked like it was meant to resemble a very, very odd face. “And why are you here?” Their voice was trembling slightly, but they stood firm despite. 

  “I live- or, well…” he’d paused, picking himself up and dusting himself off, “I used to live here. This was my house- still is actually, I’ve just been away.” 

  Despite not being able to see the merchant’s eyes, he could feel the apprehension in their gaze, weighty as it was as they looked up at him, one hand on their hip and the other holding fast to their oversized mallet. “You must have the wrong house; this one belongs to Mister Hero.” 

  Oh. 

  “You mean Link?” 

  “You know him?” Their head cocked on one side, hood following with a flap of long ear-like attachments. 

  Aflon had nodded briefly. “Do you?” 

  “Of course!” And suddenly the mallet was gone, the figure gesturing about with a cheery chirp now entering their tone. “He’s my housemate! Lets me stay here, keep up the shop while he’s gone and all that lovely sort of thing. Didn’t realize he had a landlord himself though! So terribly sorry if he’s been stiffing you on rent, he’s been out of town for forever now, you see.” 

  He’d nodded. He hadn’t known what better to do. 

  The stranger had introduced themselves as Ravio, offered to show him their wares, but when asked about Link had firmly insisted that he knew nothing more than that the hero was off on some mission for the crown or something and that he was just keeping the house in order for him. 

  It had been all Aflon needed to hear though. Link was still alive, apparently having embraced his role as the hero, and it seemed he wasn’t alone. He must have left the farm at some time, but seeing as he was approaching fifteen it made sense. He’d been rather eager for his freedom at that age too. 

  The kid would be fine, he’d told himself, walking back to Liza and Rusl. Link didn’t need him; he was getting along fine. 

  Somehow, even with the whole trip home to convince himself of that, it hadn’t worked. In fact, now he couldn’t stop thinking about it, slipping more with Rusl, drifting off at home. Liza wouldn’t let him in the kitchen anymore, insisting that he was too prone to forgetting what he’d been doing, too likely to hurt himself because he wasn’t paying attention. She’d begged him to see a doctor, or talk to her, but he’d waved it off, saying he was just tired, just thinking, he was fine; he just needed to rest. He knew she didn’t believe him, but she’d stopped asking at least. 

  If only he could stop himself thinking as easily. 

  But as the months and seasons passed, more worry had grown, more thoughts. 

  Link is turning sixteen this winter. Sixteen years since he’d stood on the edge of the wood with the queen of Hyrule and taken her child in his arms, promising to guard him. Only eight of those years were spent keeping that promise, only half, and he’d startled when he’d realized it. Even now, he’s left wondering, as he braves a storm so like that night that robbed him of his precious nephew, has Link changed? What is he like now? Did he ever grow into those too-big ears of his? Did he learn to look men in the eyes when he spoke to them, to steady his voice and hold himself with surety and not simply just skill? 

 His boy will be becoming a man, and he doesn’t know what that man looks like. 

  Or rather, he didn’t. 

  Because when he comes home, drenched to the bone but with a fresh kill in hand, ready for dinner, ready for him to show Rusl how to skin and prepare it, he finds his house full of strangers, his wide smiling and telling him that they’re travelers, more boys than men, and they need a place to stay but the inn is so far. Of course he greets them, of course he looks at men in armor and offers a smile like he would to his old brothers in arms, welcomes them to his home. 

  He didn’t realize, until just now, how much he missed hosting people fresh off the path he once used to follow, how much he missed their stories or sharing a smoke or a drink with men like himself once in a while, not just farming folk (nice as they are). 

  He’s midway to offering the a warm welcome when his eyes stray to the fire and he finds himself freezing. 

  Great violet eyes, shaded heavy under strawberry blonde, plastered down by dampness and the storm that howls just outside the door, stare up at him. 

  His breath catches. 

  It’s Loretta’s face, freckled and fine, fae-like features and faint traces of scars, upturned nose and steady jaw, but the galaxies that gaze out from violet pools aren’t the queen, even if everything else about the figure at his fire is. No, those stars are all Link, all his nephew, and the weight of that stare, not sure and stern like his sister-in-law but yet also not startled and wide like that day eight years back when he’d first met the hero. 

  In the same breath, it’s the dead queen and the young hero that sits before him. It’s Loretta with accusing eyes, fire burning in their depths as his own words ring in his head, sounding a promise, a vow to do as she’d said, to guard and guide her son, to protect him, no matter what. Yet it’s Link, it’s that little boy with eyes that know a demon’s smile and remember him bathed in his own blood. 

  If his heart had failed him when he’d first put a sword in the hands of his nephew, it’s ache is a thousand times worse as he stares at the result of that action, even as it refuses to cease in an endless flutter inside him as shock touches the face of the little soldier boy he’d left behind eight years ago, but who’s somehow, some way, found his way back before Aflon’s fire, staring up at him with the same startled gaze that shook and broke his world so long ago. 

  His knees hit the floor even as Liza cries out in concern, hands fluttering about him, but he can’t lift his eyes to look at her. Instead, he’s trapped in an endless expanse of dying stars. 

  “Link.” 

  Long ears, still too big for his nephew, turn his way at the sound of his voice, the answer coming out breathless and disbelieving. “Uncle?” 

[yeoandmoon]

cowboy take me away ( mingi x reader )

as the child of a long forgotten freedom fighter, and a long time informant of kim hongjoong, you've been entangled in the bloody history & politics of strickland for as long as you could remember. when an invitation shows up at your door in the form of a familiar gunman, you find yourself grappling with the idea of gaining freedom & love in your harsh world or sticking in the comfort of your shadows.

smut + angst, ateezverse, outlaw!mingi & librarian!reader, afab reader, right person wrong lifetime, mentions of war & corruption, mingi is covered in blood, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, wc is 4.7k

NOTE: takes place almost directly after the events of the bouncy music video ( a whole comeback and a half late, but i think it's what cowboy mingi would want )! this fic was written across 2 provinces, 1 state, 2 continents and 3 countries its a world traveller <3 title is from cowboy take me away by the chicks. if you like this please consider reblogging or leaving a comment / an ask :)

BANG! BANG! BANG!

You hear the banging before anything else. You’re quick to get up, nearly tossing your book to the floor in your haste.

The clock on the stove reads 21:37, and you know exactly who awaits you on the other side of the front door. The news reports of the bombings of The Prestige Academy had been live for nearly three hours, and it was only a matter of time before they came knocking.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another bang rings out through your apartment, shaking the wooden door and the small ornaments that hung around it - good luck charms, your mother had once told you.

It was silly of you to keep them up. You knew it was silly to still believe the bedtime stories of a broken down revolutionary, and the childhood she wanted so badly for you.

Yet, here they remain - framing your door in an arch of wooden dolls, and nearly forgotten symbols.

Everything you’d witnessed with The Eight; all the history that could’ve been and should have been of your world laid out right in front of you by a scary little man and his little hourglass wasn’t enough for you to pull them down. You told yourself it’d be disrespecting your mother’s memory by doing that.

Hongjoong and his boys made you believe in the stories of your mother, and the world she wanted.

It’s while staring at the smallest doll in the arch that you take another deep breath, and finally steal a glance at the shadows that are casted under the door. You can see the person shuffle in place, almost nervously. 

You know who it is, and what they want from you.

You almost want to be upset by the uninvited visitor. You want to throw the door open, and scream at him; you want to tell him how he ruined your life. You want to tell him how you should’ve called the Guardians when you saw them walk into your library that day; how you regret letting them pull you into this world you watched tear your mother apart.

But - you’re not really upset. The thought of them makes your palms sweat, and your cheeks flush and you don’t want them to go. You want him to come inside and hold you; you want him to stay here, and despite your threats, you could never call the Guardians on him… on any of them. 

You look back up at the small doll that smiles down at you, and try not to let visions of soft pink hair and gummy smiles invade your mind. You try to forget the feeling of rough hands against your skin, and his lips kissing your tummy. You want to push those to the back of your mind, and simply ignore the cowboy on the other side of your door.

BANG!

A final resounding bang rings out, and you finally grip the door handle before ripping the door open.

As if summoned by your inner complaining & contemplation, there is a man in a cowboy hat on the other side of your door. His hat sits low over his face, and a rifle hangs at his side; you could just see the blood splattered on his leathers and his cheek.

You try not to stare at the way the tan vest hugs his toned torso; or how the deep red blood speckles his neck and chest. Your knuckles turn white as they tighten on the doorframe.

Your lips kiss along his neck, while your hands are tight against his hips. You pull him closer to you and revel in the soft whimpers that fall from his swollen lips. His hands are warm, but you know he runs hot and you soak in the warmth.

“Y/N.” His deep voice breaks through the silence, as if slashing a knife through your daydream.

You give him a brief nod, “Mingi.”

There’s a smile growing on the outlaw’s face, “Were you hoping I would leave if you ignored me enough?” Mingi asks, gently pushing you to the side as he steps into your apartment.

You sigh before closing the door behind him, making sure the locks and deadbolts are tight before turning to him. You don’t answer, but your mind continues to linger on his comment and just how wrong it truly is. 

The last thing you want is for him to leave - for him to leave you.

“Hongjoong called you.”

You nod, and your eyes flicker to the drawer where your small burner phone sits in the kitchen. There’s a coded voicemail from Kim Hongjoong in the inbox, and you had listened to it enough times that you could probably recite it for Mingi.

Hongjoong and his boys wanted you to join the revolution - officially. You had been content hiding in the background of it; feeding information to Hongjoong in cryptic messages & sneaky meetings, and then letting them take the credit, but Hongjoong wanted you at the forefront now.

There was a reason, of course. You knew why he wanted you, of all people.

“I’m not my mother, Mingi.” Your voice breaks as you finally look up at the man in front of you.

Mingi looks down at you. His short pink hair is messy under the cowboy hat, and his brows are furrowed in frustration. As you look back at him, all you can think of is the wanted posters plastered through the city center, and how you wish the artists could see the vision you see.

His voice is soft as he finally speaks, “You’ve gotten comfortable, Y/N.” Mingi moves the rifle from his shoulder and onto your kitchen counter, careful to place the barrel and silencer facing the wall.

“You’re comfortable surrounded by your books, and letting Hongjoong take all the credit for your work. You should’ve been there tonight.”

You lean back against the door, right under the arch of dolls as you contemplate Mingi’s words. He’s mirroring you - standing under the arch of your kitchen door, but your apartment is so small that you can just feel the warmth of his body against yours. A part of your mind thinks you’re imagining it, but you know if you were to reach your arm out, you could take the outlaw’s rough hand into your own.

You almost do, too. You begin to reach your hand out when Mingi moves to speak again, “She’d want you to be there, you know.”

His words slam into you like a ton of bricks. Your hand falls back against your side while Mingi’s statement immediately fills your eyes with tears, and the vision of the bloodied man in front of you begins to blur. You look down to hide your tears from him, but you still find yourself nodding in agreement. He’s right. He’s right, and it makes you so angry just how right he is.

“But I don’t want to be there,” You finally say, “It’s not the place for me. I’m not like her. I’m not like Joong. I want what they wanted… what they want, but I’m better off behind you.”

Mingi shuffles closer to you, and his hand moves to hold your wrist. You blink, and tears begin to fall down your cheeks when you feel his nimble fingers against your pulse point. His body gently pushes you back against the front door.

“Would it change anything if I told you: I want you to be there? I want you to be there, right next to us? Next to me?”

When you look up at him, you see his dark brown eyes have softened. His face is still shadowed by the cowboy hat, and you reach your free hand up to gently push the hat off, letting it hit the floor in a soft thud. The warm light of your apartment immediately illuminates Mingi’s harsh features, revealing a sad smile as he meets your teary eyes.

You push his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek, and you revel in the way he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 

“I’ve watched this world tear people apart, Min. I don’t want to watch it break you too.” You tell him, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek, “I don’t want it to break me.”

You felt selfish as the words left your lips. Maybe you were being selfish, but you cared about him too much. You care about him enough that it’s dangerous - for both of you. You both knew your time together was limited and scarce, and soon all the work you’ve both done would finally culminate with Hongjoong’s plans.

Yet, here you stand - wrapped in a bloodied cowboy’s arms, half naked and crying, unsure if this will be the last time you see each other.

“I’m not going to break, Y/N.” His hand maneuvers from your wrist, and onto your bare thigh, just brushing under the hem of the night shirt you have on, “You wouldn’t, either. We wouldn’t let you.”

You stay silent, but you wrap your arms around Mingi’s neck and pull him into a tight hug. Mingi immediately reacts, with his own arms moving to wrap around you and his head falling into your neck. You can feel his lips ghost against your neck while one of your hands moves through his hair, almost holding him in place against you.

There’s things you could say; things you want to say to him (don’t die. come back. i love you.), but you don’t say any of that. Those are foolish thoughts for your situation, and dreams neither of you can afford right now.

Instead, you gently push him away so you can see him, both your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “Does Joong know you’re here?”

Mingi shakes his head, and you notice his own tears beginning to fall down his face. You keep your eyes on him as you nod, while one of your thumbs gently runs over his bottom lip.

“We don’t have much time then?” Your voice is hardly a whisper.

Mingi kisses your thumb before taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and kissing your palm, “We’re leaving at midnight.” He finally says.

It takes a moment of contemplation before you surge forward in Mingi’s hold, leaning up to capture his lips in a harsh kiss. His arm around your waist tightens its grip before he kisses back, and you feel his other hand drop your own before beginning to move into your hair.

You pull away after a moment, leaning back against the door as you settle in Mingi’s arms. You look up at him - taking in the way his cheeks have blushed, and his pupils are nearly blown out. Your eyes glance over the now-smudged blood on his cheek and neck, and you have to think he’s doing it on purpose. He’d come to you after doing Hongjoong’s dirty work before, bloody & wrecked and he’d always laugh when he saw how wet your panties had become after seeing him like that.

“Take the jacket off, Mingi.” Your voice cuts through the silence you two had created. 

There’s a small smile playing at your lips when Mingi jumps before nodding, unhooking his arm from around you to pull the heavy leather coat off. Your eyes follow it as he unceremoniously drops it on your foyer floor.

His hands move to his vest, and your eyes are quick to follow as he begins slowly unbuttoning the leather.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You narrow your eyes at him.

Mingi’s cheeky smile and the way his eyes glance up at you confirms all you need to know. You fake a gasp as one of your hands reaches out to grasp his, and you tug him back closer to you.

“You’re a tease,” you tell him as you kiss him again. 

He smiles into the kiss, while one of his hands moves to cradle your head and tilts you to gain easier access to your lips, “Am I?”

You begin to unbutton the remaining buttons on the vest, just as Mingi crowds you back against the door. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the way he deepens the kiss while his thigh moves between your own, pressing up against your soaked core.

You groan at the feeling of his jeans against your clothed pussy, “Am I going to come here?”

Another cheeky smile flashes at you, “I am a tease, aren’t I?” He hums.

Mingi pushes you down against his thigh as he speaks, with his hands holding your hips. The drag of your clit along his thigh rendered you speechless and hot, and you let yourself fall back against the door in your bliss.

You’re standing on your toes as you rock against him when one of his arms hooks around your waist. 

“Go on, baby.” He leans down to kiss your temple, “Use me to make yourself feel good.”

His other hand tugs at the hem of your night shirt, slowly inching it up to reveal your body to him. There’s a hunger in his eyes that makes you feel wanted and sticky, and you can’t help it when your hands move to grasp at the vest to steady yourself. Mingi’s free hand moves to your chest, his fingers gently begin thumbing at your nipple until it hardens. 

You let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, relishing in the way his touch fuels the warmth that grows within you - it’s a warmth that truly only burns for the Gunman, and part of you worries it might never burn for anyone else.

Your hands move into Mingi’s hair when he leans down to take your nipple in his mouth, and the whimpers that come from the man as you tug brings another wave of arousal that goes straight to your core (and the sticky mess that you’re sure are ruining your panties and Mingi’s jeans). You can feel the bulge in his tight jeans each time you rock your hips; it matches the hunger you saw in his eyes as he kissed up your neck, letting your shirt fall back down as one of his hands moved to cup your pussy.

You reach out to palm the bulge in his jeans, and a sleepy grin graces your lips when Mingi lets out a beautiful sound. He groans your name, his free hand gripping your wrist while you push against him.

He pulls your hand away, “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” He tuts.

“You sound pretty.”

Mingi’s thumb pressed into your clit in reply, and the action brought a near scream out of you. Your hips stutter against his hand, and you grip his vest tighter as you begin to lose your balance. Mingi’s hand around your waist moves to pick you up, using the imbalance as an excuse to pull you closer to him.

“Mingi…” Your voice is strained and full of neediness.

He hums into your skin, nipping at your collarbone, “I know, Y/N.”

His thumb presses circles into your clit, and your thighs shake as you wrap your legs around Mingi. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hips rock into his hand, urging him to move faster and harder.

You kiss him, messy and rough when he brushes his finger over your entrance, pushing you over the edge to your orgasm. You tremble against him, and he kisses away your cries and whimpers, holding you impossibly close in his arms.

Mingi’s thumb slows its movements as you ride out your climax. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you know he’s talking to you, but you can hardly hear him. You can hardly guess what he might even be saying against the quiet of your apartment and the blood rushing in your ears.

“We’re going to bed now, baby.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek and finally moving away from under the arched doorway.

You laugh into his shoulder, “Are you going to fuck me?”

He doesn’t answer on the short walk to your bedroom, but you don’t need an answer. You know how tonight will go. You always know with Mingi.

Mingi softly drops you onto your bed, untangling your legs from around his waist before quickly beginning to undo his belt. You keep your eyes on him as you pull your soaked panties off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor while you watch Mingi undo his jeans, leaving them open as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks positively wrecked, and all he’s done is made you come. This causes an undeniable high to begin racing through your veins, and the high only grows when you feel Mingi’s fingers dancing along your inner thigh leading right up to your soaked core.

“‘Gonna open you up, baby,” Mingi grunts, while he gently pushes you back against the bed and shoves your legs open so he can comfortably kneel between them, “We gotta make sure I fit, yeah?”

You gasp at the combination of his words and the feeling of his thumb against your clit so soon, but when you glance up, he’s smiling down at you. Your fingers tightened in the sheets and you wanted to curse Mingi. You were so wet from your previous orgasm that you knew you could probably take him with minimal prep - it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before.

But no; Mingi wanted to watch you writhe on the sheets as you took his fingers, nice and slow.

He gripped your thigh as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, and he chuckled when you threw your head back, a moan of his name escaping your lips.

“Min, please,” You bucked your hips up to meet the thrust of his fingers, “Just fuck me!”

Mingi kisses your knee in response, “We got some time,” He hums, but you could hear his voice waver as he adds another finger, and watches you grind yourself against them.

The short walk to your bedroom had hardly been enough time to recover from the orgasm you’d had against the door, and all you could do was soak up the increasing pleasure as you rode Mingi’s fingers. Although your bedroom was usually a quiet spot, it was soon overtaken by the sound of your soft cries and Mingi’s fingers thrusting into your weeping hole.

You let your head push back against the mattress as you whined in frustration and arousal. Your thighs were burning from Mingi holding them open to accommodate his large frame, and all you truly wanted to do was come on his cock.

Maybe you were made to ride his cock, a sneaky part of your arousal corrupted brain squeaked. Usually, you’d push those thoughts out of your mind but right now… You looked up at the man who sat over you. Mingi’s hair was a mess from you tugging on it earlier, with his vest hung open to expose his blood splattered chest and arms to you; leather string necklaces and chains hung from his neck, and it didn’t take long for you to pick out a pendant you had gifted him months earlier. His unbuttoned jeans stretched over his thick thighs, and hung low on his hips, exposing just enough skin that it made your mouth water.

Right now, you had no choice but to agree with the little voice that just maybe, you were made to ride Song Mingi’s cock.

You let out another whine at the revelation, bucking your hips into his hand as you reached for Mingi with a sweaty hand, “Min, I-I need you to fuck me now, please.”

Mingi takes your hand, using it as leverage to pull himself down and crush his lips into yours, “My baby needs my cock?”

His palm grinds against your clit, and the pressure is enough to turn any answer you might have for him into a broken moan. You kiss him harder, squeezing Mingi’s hand tightly in yours as you push your hips up to gain any kind of friction against him.

You wouldn’t even put it past yourself to begin grinding on his thigh wedged between your legs again - like some kind of bitch in heat.

The coil in your lower half begins to burn again, timing itself with the harsh thrusts of Mingi’s fingers and the way he kisses you, hard & unforgiving. When you move out of the kiss to place soft kisses and bites along his jaw, a broken whine escapes Mingi and it nearly topples you hard over the edge.

You buck your hips hard into his hand and kiss his neck, “I’m g-going to come,” You tell Mingi, who swears before kissing your cheek.

Hardly a second flashes before you, then the hand between your thighs is ripped away, along with it is the pleasure that you so desperately crave.

“Mingi!” You whine, trying to reach for him as he pulls his hand from your cunt, dodging your grabby hands and begins to move off of your bed, already tearing the vest off his body.

“‘think you should be good now,” Mingi gives you a teasing smile, beginning to push his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his thighs.

He keeps his gaze on you as he begins to crawl back onto the bed, and you can see the fire that’s present in his eyes. He moves to settle between your thighs, though you can’t help but let your vision wander down his body.

A gruff laugh comes from Mingi as you feel one of his warm hands rest on your thigh. His other hand reaches for you, gently resting on your cheek as he moves over you, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You want to laugh at his bluntness, but he kisses you so hard that you can hardly react. His hand moves from your thigh to sit heavy on your hip as he pushes into you, and all you can do is whimper into the kiss.

Despite the prep (and your inner insistence that you could take him unprepared), Mingi is big, and you could hardly remember the last time you felt so full. It’s a euphoric feeling as he thrusts into you, holding you down against your mattress and pushing any non Song Mingi related thoughts out of your mind.

Your hands move as if they have a mind of their own; one of them moves to tangle back in Mingi’s hair, and Mingi groans before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Min, it feels so good.” The hand on your hip squeezes, pressing you harder into the mattress.

He smiles against your skin, and presses a kiss to your throat, “I’m not sure how long I’m going to last,” His voice is weak, and laced with wanton pleasure.

Mingi had been restraining himself all night - that much you knew. You had felt the change in his energy the moment he propped you up on his thigh in your living room, but he still took his time. He took his time teasing you, and drinking in everything you could give him, but you knew wanted more. Mingi wanted every last drop he could get from you, and you wanted him to have it.

You nod at his words, and try to pull Mingi closer to you. The incoming familiar waves of pleasure were already tugging at your strings, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you would find yourself over the edge again.

You’d like to think it was the pleasure that spoke the next sentence that fell from your lips; or, maybe even the Mingi corrupted part of your brain, but you knew that you meant the following stuttered request with every ounce of your being.

“I wan’ you to come in me.”

Mingi’s hips stutter and he swears, “If I knock you up, you’d have to come with me.” He gives a hard thrust, as if proving a point, and seems to revel in the way it makes you gasp and clench around him, “Then, I might just knock you up again - for good measure.”

You can hardly contain the broken moan that falls from your lips, “Mingi… fuck, Joong would kill us.” You grip his arm, your nails digging into the flesh as he thrusts harder into your heat. You’d never admit (especially not to Hongjoong), but the idea Mingi proposed erupted a fire within you, and it burnt from head to toe.

A low growl escapes from his lips, as he presses another kiss into your sweaty skin, “Nah, Hongjoong would kill me. He could never hurt you, baby.”

He continues his kisses along your neck, and you feel the hand on your hip slowly move over your soft tummy before you feel his fingers graze over your clit again. He presses down on the sensitive nub as you mewl, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. The new angle presses his cock deeper into you, and you can feel the tendrils of euphoria begin to wrack through your body with every movement of Mingi’s hips and nimble fingers.

In that moment, you’re not sure how anyone will ever make you feel how Mingi does; how anyone will fuck you like this, or just simply look at you the way the tall gunman does.

Mingi’s hips stutter again as he gently nudges your cheek with his nose, “Y/N…”

You grip his arms harder; hard enough that you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for Hongjoong and the others to find in the morning, but for now you just nod, “Mingi, come in me.” You repeat the demand.

Mingi presses a kiss on your collarbone as he moans, a breath of your name leaving his lips before he comes. The feeling of his seed spilling into you, and the warm hands on your body is enough to set off your own undoing, pushing you hard over the cliff.

Stars take over your vision, and your back arches as you ride out your orgasm against Mingi, trying to pull him closer into your orbit. You vaguely feel his hand take yours, and you begin to slowly recover while he presses soft kisses against your wrist and palm. He’s sweaty above you, and you can see the flush that overtakes his cheeks while he comes down from his own climax.

“Do you have to leave now?” You manage to croak out, scared to look at the clock next to your bed.

Mingi glances at the clock, and a frown crosses his face - just for a moment. He shakes his head though, “No, not yet.”

His voice is soft, and you know he’s lying to you. He’s still holding your hand as he moves to lie next to you on your bed. The bed is small enough that he crowds you against the wall, but you two had done this enough times that you expect it; in fact, you almost welcome the crowding that comes from having Song Mingi in your bed.

You’d take anything to spend more time with him, but for now you settle with the soft kisses he’s placing on your hand.

“You know what to say if they come looking for us?”

You nod.

“I’m sorry,” Guilt racks his voice, and you’re not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe he’s saying it for Hongjoong, who pulled you back into this, or maybe he’s sorry for leaving.

Maybe he’s sorry for loving you, when neither of you could afford to be loved.

You don’t want an answer though, and instead you pull him back into your orbit and settle for slotting your lips against his one last time.

—

When you wake alone in the morning, you can’t help but notice the small doll in the arch around your door is gone - only the blank wallpaper behind it remains.

As your hand moves to touch the mouth-shaped bruise on your throat, you somehow find comfort in the broken arch of charms.

[beybaldes]

my first, my last, my everything

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary : “i could be your family” requested by the loml @onceuponaoneshotfanfic <33

content warning : readers family are a little mean because they are moving away from home, set pre-ted lasso era.

an : what a cute prompt :(((( domestic roy is something so personal to me :(((( title is based on the song of the same name by barry white !!

It was well known by anyone that had even heard of him that Roy Kent was ‘one tough cookie’ (as Ted had called him in a interview once when he first came to Richmond), and the sentiment had seemed to stick. But back when Roy first asked you out, you knew you were in for a world of romance.

Based on his ‘I don’t like anyone or anything’ aesthetic alone, you figured he’d be a secret softie and the worlds most hopeless romantic - and you’d been totally right. The evening of your first date, he’d shown up with 2 dozen red roses, kept his hand on your thigh the entire car ride, opened every door for you, pulled out every chair for you, and complimented you at every opportunity. When he walked you back to your door, after a night of being a perfect gentleman, he gave you the most searing and passionate kiss of your life, leaving without another word.

After spending half an hour sat in bed debating if his silence after the kiss was his way of letting you down gently, you searched to see if there was any meaning behind the 2 dozen red roses he’d given you.

The traditional romantic message of 24 roses is that of complete devotion, or “I am yours.”

You had no doubt you’d been seeing Roy Kent for a date, and getting kissed by him like that, again.

4 years later, almost each and every day of it spent together, Roy asks you if you’re willing to move across the country with him if the bid from Chelsea goes through and he gets transferred. When he asks, head hung low and his hands in tight fists, you can tell he expects you to say no. Expects you to explain that while you love him, and you’ve loved these last 4 years, that you can’t - won’t - leave Sunderland. He is ready for this to be the biggest heartbreak of his young life and have it ruin every other partner for him.

You say yes in a heartbeat, and seal it with a kiss just a searing as the one he gave you after your first date.

The move down south is long and tiring, but so worth it. You’re closer to Roy’s mum and sister, he gets to play for his childhood team, your work seamlessly transferred you to it’s sister company, and you were living in a beautiful house with the love of your life (who had an incredibly sexy shaggy mullet going on). Life couldn’t have been better.

Except for the fact that your family hadn’t stopped bombarding you with text messages about your move all week. You still had boxes left to unpack and they were already making you regret your decision. Not the decision of moving in with Roy, you’d go fucking anywhere with Roy, but they made it so hard to allow yourself to feel like you’d made the right choice when they were constantly telling you you hadn’t.

Every single one of them was telling you Roy would leave you sooner or later, for some model, footballer, actress or one of the spice girls. One of your uncles even had a bet going with one of his mates from the pub that Roy would fuck all five before then end of his career. To say it made you feel like shit would be an understatement.

“Sunshine, I’m home.” Roy shouted from the front door, kicking it closed behind him and then kicking his shoes off. He’s been doing press about the transfer all day, and he feels terrible having left you in the new house all alone to unpack, but he knows it’s just part of the move, there’s ultimately nothing he can do about it. Still, the only thing he wants to do before he has to go out for another full day of press tomorrow is curl up in your arms, have you run your fingers through his hair, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear about the new life the two of you are going to build together in London. Instead he is met with what seems like a cold and empty house. “Babe? You here?”

You’re sprawled on the couch Roy had insisted was way too big, but looked small now in the middle of the gigantic living room, lazily covered in a throw blanket and only wearing one of Roy’s Sunderland shirts. Even though you’d heard him come in, you didn’t have the strength to call out to him, especially not when your phone was still frantically buzzing against the coffee table every 10 seconds.

“Sunshine? What are you doing in here?” Roy places something down on the kitchen counter and you can hear it thanks to the main rooms open plan, and you can tell he’s getting closer to you because you can hear the soft padding of his feet against the wooden floor. “You okay?”

Even though he wants nothing more then for him to crawl into your arms, he knows you need it more then he does right now. So, before you can resist him, he pulls you into his arms, sitting the two of you upright on the settee with you in his lap, his hand in your hair. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Nothing Roy-o, just tired. Missed you.” You hid your head in the crook of his neck, hoping that if you burrowed deep enough into his mix of warmth and aftershave, you could hide from the constant buzzing of your phone. “It’s a big house, I feel so small without you here to share it.”

“Give me a week, sunshine, then I can be here all day every day until preseason. And then we’ll be on a pretty similar work schedule.” Roy pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, ghosting a kiss against your temple and the another against the shell of your ear. “It’s going to be perfect. You. Me. Here. It’s all going to work out, sunshine.”

For a moment, you believed Roy and it felt like everything was going to be okay, that you’d made that right choice, and that you and Roy were taking the first step towards the rest of your lives. Then your phone buzzed.

“Fucking hell, babe, you got a fan club or what?” When you didn’t laugh, Roy’s concern only grew, leaning forward and picking up your phone to see what all the commotion was. As he scrolled through message after message from family member after family member, his brow grew tense, and a scowl settled on his face. “What a fucking joke.”

“Roy.”

“No, seriously, they can say all they want about me. I don’t give a fuck. I never have. But about you?” Roy scoffed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you with him as he leant against the back of the sofa. “You’re fucking related to them and this is how they’re talking to you? It’s a fucking joke.”

“They’re my family, Roy-o, they’re just trying to look out for me, that’s all.” One of your hands moved to run up Roy’s chest, tracing around the embroidered material of the Chelsea badge right over his heart. God, did he look good in blue.

“Some fucking family, to treat you like that.” Roy ran a hand over his forehead, pushing his curls of out his eyes. You loved his hair like this, grown out and curly like in the pictures you’d seen of him as a kid. Maybe one day you’d convince him to push it out of his eyes with a headband. He’d look sexy in a headband. “I could be your family.”

Roy’s hand cupped your jaw, turning your head slowly to face him. When your eyes finally met his, he pressed a soft and long kiss to your lips. You melted into it, the stress of the week and of the messages from your family melting away under Roy’s loving touch. “You’re already my family, Roy. It’s like you said, me, you, here. Besides, you have been since you wormed your way into my heart on our first date with those 2 dozen roses.”

“Funny you’d say that.” Roy whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips then pulling away with a smirk. “Thought the new house could do with some greenery.”

As you turned to look at the kitchen counter, you saw what you could only assume was 2 dozen roses already in vases. It must have been what Roy brought home with him, and suddenly you wished you’d been feeling happier and could’ve appreciated them more when he first walked in the door.

“The traditional romantic message of 24 roses is that of complete devotion, or “I am yours.”” You repeated under your breath, a warm smile brightening your whole face. Roy’s eyes widened, as though he hadn’t necessary expected you to know the meaning behind 2 dozen roses, but he loved you even more for it.

“I am yours.” Roy repeated, voice filled with complete and utter earnest. “And one day I’m going to put a ring in your finger to prove it.”

an : Mwah!!!! Love you guys thank you for reading so far <333

[iceinwhb]

I don't know what title to give this.

Ok, Idk if some of you missed it, but I'll give you the context, (I'd like to share the story, but honestly, it's not mine, and the author himself deleted it on his own, so I'm unsure if I can give you anything about it).

But I'll give you a little summary of the situation. The delegates from each kingdom are preparing for a sports festival in which all the kingdoms are participating.

Bael comes up with the idea of giving Mc as a trophy, because Bimet was the one who suggested giving a juicy reward, and Sitri, reluctantly, accepted it. Mc could not oppose the idea because Bael said goodbye too quickly, and Mc meets Marbas, who guides her to the stadium.

On her tour, Mc sees our favorite kings from afar, and Lucifer. Marbas tells her that he chose the outfit, and she tells him that if she continues to count her as a prize in the horse race, if she continues to look at them lewdly.

Marbas leaves MC at the end of the race, for a better view, and then Azathot is the one who narrates the events of the race; Satan on his remodeled motorcycle, Mammon throwing money while calmly galloping, Beel eating a donut while flying in a cluster of flies in the form of a horse, and Levi, who was threatening his horse to win the race, and finally, after all this, Lucifer.

We are mentioned that Lucifer had a habit of riding unicorns, and not only that, but Mc waits impatiently for Lucifer to win. To no one's surprise, Lucifer grabs Mc by the waist and takes her to the stables, where they practice… not questionable acts, of course.

And they make it clear… three things:

The angels' dicks (it is not clear if all of them) provoke orgasms at the slightest penetration (don't laugh, it's real).

2.Lucifer is brutally honest… And he says things that kill the moment (Like Satan, of course).

Ignore that there is something else there, simply, that happened to say hello. (Now he thought not only of God, but also of his brothers, how thoughtful.), and I don't know exactly what that is supposed to mean, if they were having sex. Open speculation, because I think there is a reason they have chastity belts, and Luci is laying the cards on the table.

3. The unicorn was impregnated, because she witnessed Lucifer breaking Mc's vagina/ass.

Apparently, in the WHB world there is no Holy Spirit, but rather, simply the miracle of conception happens upon seeing the sexual act involving an angel (I am doubtful as to whether this works with all angels, and whether God is also included in this phenomenon). It's even made clear that the unicorn is a virgin, so it was “impossible”.

Y… I want to know what exactly it is that gives PB the craziest ideas to put in a single card. Being honest, the really good thing about it all, were the kings' costumes, and how the relationships between the nobles of other countries are.

And an honorable mention to our baby Morax, who almost went with god, because the bandages came undone. :(

Also for Abbadon, who is half prison (why would there be a prison in hell if his rules are so non-descriptive?).

[lipglossanon]

Winter’s Knight

vampire!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

inspired by Leon’s romantic look 😌 and the song Dracula’s Wedding by OutKast 💜 also the poetry mentioned is from Emily Dickinson; there’s also one line plucked from Dracula

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, biting/marking, fated pair, strangers to lovers, blood, blood kink, scent kink, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), OC friend of reader named Lara just in case that throws anyone off, unprotected sex, creampie

title from Winter’s Knight album by Nox Arcana

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!! 💜 😘

“It’s an opportunity of a lifetime,” you mimic in a high tone before rolling your eyes, “opportunity my ass.”

Your friend Lara convinced you to go on this holiday trip with her, all expenses paid, as she wanted the company. The boyfriend that was originally going to be accompanying her had been dumped the week prior. Cheaters never win had been Lara’s flippant reply when asked. 

It felt like it happened overnight and before you knew it, Lara had whisked you away to three different countries one of which being the current visit in question. You think you’re in Romania or maybe Estonia; you’re a little mixed up as your plans had changed mid train ride. 

Lara’s family had some connections in the area and so you were both staying in a rather posh old castle turned tourist destination. 

A very lovely place except now you were completely turned around when all you wanted was to get a bottle of water from the concierge and go back to bed. Your footsteps have slowed considerably as you take in the magnificent gothic architecture and the beautiful paintings ranging from landscapes to some strange brooding man encapsulated in shadows; you’re never fully able to make out what he looks like, too much shadow blanking his features. 

You find yourself at a dead end, ornate furniture filling the space with a singular painting taking up the entire wall. It literally takes your breath away. It must be the place you’re staying in, the front gate still looks the same from what you can tell; it’s this castle seated on a rocky cliff face overlooking the villa down below. Your hand reaches out to touch, but you hover over the gilded frame before dropping it back to your side. 

“Lovely, no?”

A smooth, low voice has you spinning around, a thrill of fear humming in your chest. 

A man stands to the side, a little further down the hall. He’s tall, slim waisted with broad shoulders that stick out to you, even being shrouded in the dim lighting like he is; his eyes shine like an animal’s before you blink and it’s gone. 

That small niggling of fear in your brain is getting louder as he moves closer, making no sound in his sharp dress shoes. 

He keeps his eyes locked on the painting as he stops next to you.

“Quite an ancient castle,” he murmurs, almost too low for you to hear. 

When he finally turns to face you, you almost gasp. He’s beautiful, almost ethereal with his snowy white hair and fair complexion; both make the blue of his eyes almost glacial. 

He smiles sardonically, “Lost?”

You squint your eyes at him, lips pursing in suspicion, “You could say that.”

He grins and his teeth glint sharply before he turns, holding his arm out for you. 

“I can guide you back to your room, miss?”

You smile sarcastically as you step up alongside him, completely ignoring the proffered arm, “Miss is just fine, sir.”

His eyes flick from the end of the hallway to you and he hums in amusement, “Well miss, shall I lead the way?”

“Oh, please do,” you simper and this earns a low chuckle from the handsome stranger, making your heartbeat flutter at the sound. 

He guides you back to the foyer and up the grand staircase, pointing out paintings or furniture that have some kind of significance to the castle. Pausing in front of an oil painting not far from your room, he falls into a sort of melancholy. 

“This was one of the ladies of the castle,” he finally pulls back, turning without looking back at you, “I’m sure you can find the rest of your way, miss.”

You startle, not realizing he was just going to dip out now. 

“Hey!”

He pauses, half turning so you can see the profile of his straight nose and sharp cheekbone.

“Thanks, mister?” You trail off, hand fluttering in the air as you gesture. 

He fully turns to smile at you, “Mister is just fine, thanks.”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of your chest, missing the way he lights up at the sound, eyes cataloging you far more closely than before. 

“Well, thanks Mister,” you shake your head, smile still stretched across your face, “maybe I’ll see you around then.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, bowing to you at the waist, “goodnight, Miss.”

“Goodnight,” you tilt your head and wave your hand.

Laughing to yourself, you turn and head further down the hall and into your room.  He watches you until the door clicks shut and he turns back to leave. Pausing in front of the painting once more, he brushes a thumb across the placard on the bottom. 

“She feels like the one, hmm?” He murmurs to the half smiling woman, “now that she’s here, I don’t know if I can do it.”

A door snapping shut from further down the hall has him pulling away from the painting and slipping off into the night. 

You run into the strange gentleman again in the castle gardens situated just to the side of the towering edifice. Since Lara’s pacing in her room trying to figure out what went wrong with your travel plans, you decided to go for a walk instead of sitting around doing nothing.

You’re looking at one of the dead withered trees off to the side, debating if sitting on the bench here is safe from any falling branches when that low smoky tone speaks behind you. 

“There’s a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, that oppresses, like the heft of cathedral tunes.”

You squash your urge to jump in place and spin around to face him. He’s no less devastatingly pretty in the weak winter sunlight. 

“Good afternoon to you, too,” you smile, enjoying the weirdness he exudes, “and what a conversation starter, might I add.”

He meets your smile with his own little grin, “Somber poetry for a somber day.”

You giggle, “Guess so.”

He gestures and you sit on the bench as he takes a seat next to you. 

“Here on vacation?” You kick at a loose rock with your booted foot.

“You could say I’m here for leisure,” he muses, blue eyes taking in every nuance of you. 

You tilt your head to look at him, “Oh I could, huh?”

Laughing, you straighten up, hands fiddling with the clasp on your jacket, “Well, I’m also here for leisure. Even though it’s kind of an accident.”

He raises an eyebrow and you continue, “It was a mix up and we ended up here. A vacation, just not in the right place.”

“How fortunate am I,” he smirks and you feel heat blaze in your chest, eyes dropping to look down at your jacket. 

You tug on the zipper, catching your finger in the teeth with a hiss. It snags a bit of skin as you jerk it free, blood beading on your fingertip.

His features are serious as he takes your hand in his, “You must see to it so it doesn’t become infected.”

You nod, touched at his concern, “I have some alcohol swabs and bandaids up in my room.”

He brings your hand closer and you get the wild idea he means to suck your finger into his mouth, but he only kisses the back of your hand as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, a light gray fabric that looks like it costs more than your entire wardrobe. You catch his initials, L.S.K., monogrammed in black on the edge. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling flushed in the cool afternoon air as you clasp the handkerchief to your finger. 

“My pleasure. Shall I escort you back to your room, miss?”

Lips parting, you take in his pinched features as he stares at your hand before nodding again, “Yes, please.”

His eyes snap up and he smiles, relief spreading across his face, “Good, good.”

Once you’re both standing, he snags your elbow with his fingers and gently guides you along. Since he’s much closer than before and you’re not sniffling from the cold air, you catch a strong smell of cedar and cloves that nearly makes you swoon. 

“Are you okay?” He stops, grip firming up on your bicep to tug you closer making the smell even stronger. 

“‘m okay,” you murmur, eyes drooping as you slump against his chest, “just smell good.”

You feel him laugh and the low baritone makes your cunt throb so hard you whine into his jacket. 

“Maybe moving from the cold into the warmth has made you dizzy,” he says kindly, “come, let me help you to your room.”

Completely unsure as to what’s happening to you, you let him lead you back to your room. Your legs don’t seem to want to move the way you want to and the more you breathe in whatever cologne he’s wearing, the more slick drips from your pussy into the gusset of your panties to the point you’re soaked between your thighs. 

He murmurs low platitudes in your ear that just makes everything better worse, so by the time you make it back to your room and he eases you down into your bed, you’re asking him to stay. 

“No. You’ll thank me later,” he soothes, pulling off your winter boots and tucking you under the covers. 

“Please,” tears prick your waterline, emotions and hormones all over the place. 

His lips thin and he runs a hand through his white hair, strands ruffled when he clasps your hands together, “Just close your eyes. I’ll stay here.”

Dropping to the floor, he kneels alongside your bed, keeping your hands together. Struggling to keep your eyes open, you just know he won’t be there when you wake up and some part of you hates that idea. 

“Didn’t think it would affect you like this,” he murmurs as you drift off. 

With a small shift, he moves forward and pulls the pricked finger into his mouth. His hot tongue lashing against the digit is the last thing your mind holds onto before it slips away like sand in the tide. 

When you come to, it’s dark outside and Lara is shaking your shoulder. 

“Finally,” she huffs, brows pinched, “thought I was gonna have to take you to a doctor or something. You good?”

You squint at her but can’t remember anything but the stranger you met helping you back inside from the cold. The rest is a cloudy blank in your mind. 

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” you raise up, pushing the blankets away to swing your feet out of bed, “what’s up?” 

As you shift, you notice a small square cloth and a bolt of memory, of sitting on the bench with that man, makes your eyes widen. You pick up the handkerchief and tuck it into your pocket. 

She smiles weakly, “Kinda stuck here a few more days then we’ll just fly back home in time for Christmas.”

You frown, an uncomfortable sadness pinging in your chest, “Oh? That’s fine. I like it here, so it’s not like it’s a hardship.”

Lara laughs, “Maybe for you. I’m ready to be somewhere that has pizza delivery.”

You grin, “Fair enough,” you push her shoulder, “well, when do we plan on leaving?”

“Two days is what my travel agent says,” she looks down at her phone, “that was the nearest opening since it’s the busy season and plus a storm is coming in tonight.”

“Ahh,” you nod along, “plenty of time to sightsee then.”

She giggles at your teasing and stands up from the bed, “I just wanted to let you know. It’s kinda late but the kitchen’s still open if you wanna grab something. I’m honestly exhausted from being on the phone all day so I’m gonna crash.”

“Hang on!”

You throw on some shoes and meet her at the door, “I’ll walk you to your room and head down to grab some food. You sure you don’t want anything?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head, “I had something earlier since I thought you’d eaten. You sure you’re feeling okay, though?”

“Mmhmm,” you smile, pausing outside her door, “promise.”

She returns your smile, “Okay, goodnight then.”

“Night!”

The door snaps shut behind you as you walk away, heading to the staircase and down to the restaurant. You take your time, stopping to look at various paintings on the way down, even pausing in front of a suit of armor to peer into the empty helm. 

“Expecting a skeleton?”

You jump backwards, nearly tripping as you stumble into the firm chest behind you. 

Righting yourself, you feel hot all over in embarrassment as you meet your strange acquaintance for the second time today. 

“U-uh, hi,” you feel jittery with nerves, like a new crush, “thank you for today by the way. I don’t know how I got into my room, but I’m guessing you helped?”

His brows raise in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by a warm smile that makes butterflies flutter in your chest, “Yes, you weren’t feeling well. Dizzy from the temperature change.”

You take a half step back, leaving more distance between you two. 

“Well, thank you,” you clear your throat, “uh, I was going down for a late dinner, do you want to join me?”

A sly grin crosses his features making you nervous, “I’d be delighted although I’ve already.. eaten this evening.”

“O-oh okay,” you stumble over your words as you turn to walk down the stairs, “anything you’d recommend?”

A sharp bark of laughter escapes him as he walks alongside you, “No, nothing I’d recommend. Although I’ve heard their special today is excellent.”

Surprised at his outburst, your brows furrow as you smile in confusion, “If you say so.”

You lapse into a comfortable silence as you both make the walk to the dining room. There’s just something about him that draws you in like a moth to a flame. At first you just thought it was his strange mannerisms, but in the short span of time that you’ve spent together you just feel connected on some hidden level that you’ve only just discovered. 

Dinner is a quiet affair; the strange man, who you still don’t know the name of, joins you for your meal. He makes small talk about the local area in which he’s well informed about, no surprise. After you’ve finished your meal, he offers to take you out for an after dinner stroll around the castle before bed. 

Not wanting to leave his company just yet, you readily agree and let him lead you around the place. It’s as he’s guiding you down a long L shaped hallway filled with more paintings that a chill runs down your spine and he freezes in place, half turning to shield you from the person who seems to materialize in front of you two. 

“Hello, Leon,” a silky voice purrs as a beautiful woman steps into view. 

She’s beautiful and ethereal in a way that’s almost terrifying, much like the mysterious gentleman half blocking your view; Leon she called him. 

“What a lovely surprise,” she steps closer, form appearing to ripple in the dappled moonlight streaming from the windows. 

“Ada, how can I be of service?” His polite tone’s cold and to the point, even as he pushes you further behind him. 

“Aww, don’t be like that,” she lilts, voice playful and coaxing, “I’ve already seen your pretty playmate. Is she a new friend?”

You blink and the dark haired woman is standing next to you, Leon twisting uncomfortably to turn around. 

She twirls a strand of your hair with a manicured nail, “I won’t bite. Unless she asks,” she winks at you and your eyes widen in surprise.

“She’s new, yes. A visitor,” Leon’s hand reaches out to grasp your hip, tugging you into his side, “so don’t play games.”

“Games?” She laughs, eyes bright, “are you still sore that I stole Claire away?” she pouts at him, “she wasn’t your one, so why are you still upset?”

You watch all of this with rapt attention and so much confusion. 

He scowls at her, eyes darkening as he straightens his stance, “It doesn’t matter if she was the right one or not, you stole her away from me.”

She laughs outright at that, side stepping away from you and closer to him, “Can’t steal someone if they want to be taken, right, Leon?”

He deflates a little, gaze flitting to you and back to her, “What do you want now?”

“To bother you,” she smiles over at you and you notice her incisors are longer than normal, “since I’m just passing through, thought I would say hello to an old friend.”

They stare at each other for a beat longer than what’s comfortable before she sighs melodramatically. 

“As much as I would love to stay, and believe me I want to so very badly,” she blows a kiss at Leon as she walks backwards to the far end of the gallery, “I do have unfinished business nearby that I must take care of. Ciao!”

It’s so quiet after she leaves that the ringing in your ears sounds abnormally loud. 

Leon clears his throat and gives you an apologetic smile, “I’m very sorry about all of that.”

You wave your hands, “No worries. It’s not really my business, y’know.”

He winces at that and you scrunch your nose, internally cringing at yourself. It’s a somber feeling as he quietly leads you back to your room. 

Pausing at the threshold, you reach out and snag the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Hey,” you murmur, dropping your gaze to the fabric you’ve pinched between your fingers, “you wanna meet up tomorrow?”

He frowns although you don’t see it and slowly tugs his arm loose, “I don’t know.”

Whatever feeling that has been building in your chest feels like a punctured balloon at his flippant tone. 

“Oh,” you drop his shirt like it burns, willing the tears away at least until you can shut the door, “I-I didn’t mean to— nevermind. Kinda silly of me. Hopefully I’ll see you before we leave.”

His fingers circle around your wrist tightly, holding you in place, “You’re leaving?”

You level him with a flat stare, “Of course. We’re only here for a couple more days. So if you’ll excuse—“

He presses forward, pushing you through the doorway to follow after, letting the door swing shut behind you both. 

“Let go of me,” you twist your arm but Leon doesn’t budge. 

A concentrated look arrests his features, blue eyes skimming down your body and back up to your face. 

“Leon,” you bite out sharply, making him draw up short, “that’s your name, right?”

“Yes,” his eyes look wild as he lets go of your wrist to grasp both of your hands with his own, “yes, my name is Leon. Leon Kennedy. I’m sorry, this isn’t quite how I wanted things to go.”

You finally pull your arm away, “I’d like it if you left. I’m really confused and you’re acting strange.”

He looks at you so sadly it makes your chest hurt, “Can I show you something? I’ll leave you alone after that if that's what you’d like.”

Pursing your lips, you squint at him until you finally nod, “Alright.”

His shoulders sag and he walks back over to the door. Holding it open, he waits until you cross the threshold before stepping back in front of you. You make the short walk to the painting down the hall from your door when Leon pauses. 

You look at the painting then to his serious face with raised brows.

“You’re showing me this again?” Confusion colors your tone, “am I missing something?”

“Have you read the name underneath?”

Shaking your head no, you step forward to read the small gold plate underneath. 

“Claire Kennedy née Redfield,” you murmur to yourself. 

Claire? That mysterious woman mentioned her name earlier. The one Leon said she stole away. The correlation is there but you feel like you’re missing a huge part of the puzzle to actually end up at the correct explanation. 

You turn to Leon, “So is this the Claire you were talking about?”

He nods, eyes heavy and sad as he flits his gaze between you and the painting, “Yes. It was a political marriage. We were friends before everything happened.”

“Ookay,” you frown again, “so she ran off with her girlfriend?”

He flinches at that, “My other wife.”

You feel floored, “Wait, what?!”

Rubbing your forehead, you’re getting a pain behind your left eye from trying to parse it all together. 

“So, your new wife ran off with your then current wife? Am I getting that right? How long ago was this, Leon?”

He gestures a little wildly at the plaque, “You didn’t see the year?”

Squinting, you lean forward and can make out circa 1849. 

“Fuck off,” you blurt out, leaning back and taking a half step away, “what kinda joke is this?”

“I wait my whole life to bite the right one,” he mutters to himself, hand raking through his parted hair, “that’s not to say I didn’t mess up a couple of times before.”

You take another step back, away from Leon, “What do you mean?”

His eyes snap over to you and you freeze in place. Everything about him seems to be amplified to ten now, he’s exuding an energy that makes the hair on your arms stand up. 

“You’re the one,” he steps up until he’s in your personal space, “Ada and Claire were accidents. I didn’t realize that there’s only one compatible partner for me.”  

“Compatible partner?” voice pitching high, “you sound crazy right now.”

His brows lower, “You feel it too, little miss. It’s why you passed out earlier. Blood calls to blood.”

You’re hit with a wall of need so crippling your legs give out making you come down hard on your knees. 

“I’ve been shielding you,” he murmurs, kneeling in front of you, hands reaching out to brush across your jaw and neck, “it’s a lot to take in, I know.”

Gasping in deep breaths, you’re overwhelmed with the scent of cedar and cloves from earlier. You don’t know how you forgot that smell but now it’s all you can concentrate on; your head goes fuzzy as arousal sweeps through your body. 

“What is this?” you slur, eyes hazy as you slump forward into Leon’s shoulder, “what did you do t’me?”

“Nothing,” he soothes, petting down your back, “it’s just the effect of the compatibility. I can’t explain it; I just instinctively know it’s right.”

Reaching out, your hands weakly clasp at his shirt, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay,” he coos, “let me take you to my room.”

Not able to argue against him, he easily lifts you into a bridal carry. He uses one hand to block your eyes and you feel cold wind before he removes his palm and you see you’re in a room three times the size of your own. Leon eases you down onto an absurdly luxurious bed, sheer drapes lost to the shadows of the ceiling. 

Once he steps away, leaving a sizable gap between you both, the dizziness subsides and your thoughts aren’t as fleeting. 

“What the fuck?” you whisper, hands shakily brushing wisps of your hair back from your face, “what the ever loving fuck? Am I losing my mind?”

Your eyes quickly dart around, taking in the opulate furnishings and huge windows overlooking the cliff side, showcasing you now must be on the upper level of the castle. Your gaze lands on a time worn painting off to the side of Leon and his first wife, the dark haired beauty he called Ada. Next to it is another portrait of his second wife, Claire, yet another beautiful woman with red hair. 

Leon’s hands ball into fists at his sides as he takes in a deep breath, “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Leon, what’s going on?” Your voice breaks, mind struggling to keep up with what’s happening to you. 

“My first wife,” he points to the older portrait, “we were human at the time.”

“At the time?” You squeak out.

He hums, eyes flashing in the low light, “Yes. Then the change occurred to me after getting lost on a hunting trip. When I returned, I offered it to her but she refused,” he tilts his head up and shields his eyes with a hand, “and I made her like me anyways. She was my wife. Our vows were to be together in sickness and in health. She didn’t see it that way.”

You watch as he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, stepping to the portrait with his fingers outstretched but never outright touching the canvas. 

“She said it was til death do us part but I thought she was my one,” he sighs sorrowfully, “so I changed her and she loathed me. She eventually left one night never to come back. I didn’t chase after her, resigned to her resentment. I didn’t hear from her for hundreds of years. Then Claire came along.”

Your eyes jump from Ada to the smiling redhead in the other portrait. 

“Her brother needed her to marry someone with an upstanding background; someone with title and lands to trade,” he smiles bitterly at you, “I posed as my own great great nephew and set up the marriage. We became friends through our letters and when we wed it was wonderful. I kept what I was from her for as long as possible.”

He steps over to you and you flinch making his eyes droop in pain. 

“She figured it out quickly, such a smart woman,” he smiles crookedly, “I loved her dearly, but she wasn’t enough either. I changed her thinking that this is it, but it wasn’t. She wasn’t the one either. Ada came soon after and easily whisked her away from me.”

He sighs forlornly. Your lips part but you change your mind and refrain from saying anything. 

“Claire’s brother even convinced Ada to change him so he could defend her honor against me,” he blows out a short breath, “letting you know in case he shows up to be the gallant hero.”

“Leon,” you murmur, at a complete loss for words. 

“We all understand each other now and they’re happy where they are,” he laughs derisively at himself, “and I’ve lived alone here, running this place through a shell company hoping against hope for just one more chance.”

“This is insane,” you finally say to him, “you’re telling me you’re a vampire and I’m beholden to you? And on top of that you practically have a coven. This is impossible.”

“But you feel the pull, too,” his voice dips into that low smoky tenor, “you’re the one. You are to be my new bride.”

Your laugh startles you both, but you can’t stop the manic giggles once they start. Once the mania seems to pass and with it your hysterical laughter, you finally get yourself under control and clear your throat. 

“Prove it,” you tell him seriously, heart beating so fast your sure he can hear it, “let me see this vampire side of yours and if I believe you, if you convince me, then I’ll be your bride.”

His smile lights up his whole face making your breath catch.

“That’s easily done.”

He stands directly in front of you and that strange energy fills the room; you watch in complete astonishment as he looks like he dissolves until there’s only mist floating in the air. It drifts languidly past you and you feel the bed dip with body weight. 

His hot breath caresses your ear, “Is that enough, little bride?”

A full body shudder hits you as he kisses across your neck, the sharp prick of fangs dragging across your skin. 

“Let me bite you,” he whispers sweetly, “let me show you how deep our bond truly is.”

Feeling completely off centered, you breathe out one word without thinking, going with only what feels right.

“Yes.”

His teeth sink into the side of your neck and you cum, slick filling your panties until you’re sure it’s dripping down your thighs. It feels like a typhoon of emotions rains down through your body, pleasure so strong your eyes sting; then, it’s swept through to be quickly replaced by a feeling of home so deeply connected to the man behind you you could openly weep. It’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place somewhere in your chest. 

Moaning, your hands scratch at the bedding and he hums against your skin. Pulling away with a low groan, he runs his tongue over the puncture marks. 

“So good,” he mouths against your jaw, “let me mark you again.”

Whimpering, you lean back against him as he sinks his teeth into a new spot, softly sucking blood from the wound. His hands slip around your waist to pull you into the V of his thighs. You choke out a whine as your cunt throbs, on the verge of another orgasm and he hasn’t even touched you intimately aside from his teeth in your neck. 

“Leon,” you keen, one hand reaching over your head to tangle in his soft, snowy hair.

Chillbumps race down your body when he finally pulls away to place a soft kiss on the bite. He sucks at the tender skin making you mewl longingly until he pulls away with a sigh. 

“Let me taste that sweet little pussy,” he purrs in your ear, “I have been dreaming of biting your thighs and kissing your cunt til you can’t take anymore.”

Tugging his hair harder, you whimper and nod your head, “Please, Leon.”

The scent of cedar comes across stronger as he kisses your neck one last time before shifting you both until you’re laying back on his bed. He strokes his hands all down your body, eyes drinking in your expressions.

“You’ve been driving me crazy this entire time,” he slowly undresses you, scraping his sharp incisors against the skin he reveals, “smell so good, so sweet. Makes my mouth water.”

You whimper while watching as he unbuttons your jeans and works them and your panties off of your legs. He groans to see the slick mess between your thighs, cunt glistening with your arousal. 

“Look at you,” he breathes out, blown out pupils flicking up to your own dazed eyes. 

Wasting no time, he lays down between your spread legs and kisses the top of your pussy, ignoring where you most want his mouth. He drags his lips down and then buries his face in your cunt, spreading your lips apart with his tongue as he licks all over your pussy. Grunting, he shoves his tongue into your hole to spear you open on the thick muscle. 

“Leon,” you whisper down to him, feeling so turned on you can’t think straight. 

He groans and pulls back, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

With a sigh, you relax against the sheets only to jolt as your pussy throbs when he bites you at the crease where your cunt meets your thigh. 

Crying out softly, your head thrashes against his bed as he repeats it on the other side. 

“I know, but bear with me,” he murmurs, blood coating his mouth as he lovingly kisses the puncture wounds, “doing so well.”

You splay back out against his sheets as he buries his face between your thighs again. He keeps your legs spread as he slowly kisses and sucks at your cunt, like he’s never tasted anything better in his life. Everything’s sensitive and on the verge of too much, but you wouldn’t dream of asking him to stop. That slow syrupy pleasure that’s made your thoughts honey thick is more than welcome. 

He laps along the seam of your pussy lips until he glides the tip of his tongue up to the hood of your clit. Leon circles the pudgy bud all slow and soft, tongue dipping down to flutter inside your soaked hole. Groaning at the slick flooding his mouth, he laps at your cunt with long broad strokes of his tongue. He pulls back to suck on your pussy lips before kissing across to your thigh and sinking those sharp fangs into your supple skin. 

Your back arches, a low whine spilling from your kiss bitten lips. He kisses and sucks the bitemark until it's ugly and irritated, then drags his lips back to your cunt, kissing your mound softly.  He makes out with your pussy with hot and bloody open mouthed kisses, spit drenching your swollen clit as you moan loudly. 

Your orgasm builds higher and higher until it’s a tight band ready to snap in your lower belly. Leon senses you getting closer from your body spasming and your voice gaining in volume as he greedily eats your cunt, hungry eyes watching you from between your legs. 

With a low keening groan rumbling from deep in his chest, he sinks his fangs into your fat pussy lips as he fucks his tongue into your clenching hole. That pinprick of pain flooded by intense pleasure is enough to push you completely over the edge. Wailing, your spine bows as your climax floods through your body, cunt pulsing and gushing slick as your toes curl in the sheets. 

Almost growling into your pussy, Leon flutters his tongue into your hole, lapping up all the slick dripping from your cunt, tongue loudly squelching in and out of your clenching walls. 

He finally pulls away with a low moan of pleasure, lower jaw coated with slick and blood. 

“So good for me, little bride,” he slinks up your body, joints moving unnaturally but you're hardly able to think past the pleasure buzzing in your brain, “going to make you mine, keep you forever.”

 Humming, you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him down into the messiest kiss of the night. He almost snarls into your kisses as he gets rougher, tongue and teeth dominating your mouth, a bruising pressure on your lips. 

“Promise me you’ll stay,” he demands, eyes flashing at you as he presses you down harder into the mattress, “stay with me, be mine.”

You softly brush back his hair, voice soothing as you reply, “I promise, Leon. I’m all yours. I’ll be your new bride.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck before sinking those deliciously sharp teeth into you again. Weakly moaning, your eyes roll back as your clit throbs in time with your heartbeat. You feel him shudder when he pulls away to kiss the sluggishly bleeding marks.

“My bride,” he sighs, dragging his pouty lips across your jaw, nose tracing your skin, “you promise to give me all that you are.. all that you will be.”

“Promise,” you gasp out as his hand sneaks down to tease across your clit, cunt soaking the sheets further with fresh slick, “promise, Leon.”

He kisses you then, the hot copper tang of blood flavoring his sweet sentiment. You’re swept under another tide of arousal from his messy lips and tongue while his fingers play with your pudgy clit. 

He shifts until he’s next to you, blood smeared mouth parted as his eyes trail down your body. Gripping your hip, he helps turn your body to face him, leaving you both lying on your sides. Your hands reach out to trail down his chest just now noticing that he’s still dressed.

“No fair,” you tease, tugging on the silky  material.

He laughs softly, bringing your hand up to kiss your inner wrist before scraping his fangs across the sensitive skin making you shiver. Letting go of your hand, he quickly undresses, dropping his clothes off the side of the bed in a heap. You bite your lip, taking in the long lean lines of his body, eyes widening to see his thick cock filled out and resting against his thigh. 

“Leon,” you breathe out, wide eyes tracking back up to his pale blue ones. 

This time your hands lightly scratch along his pecs to his twitching abdominal muscles, nails barely scratch the soft thatch of hair above his hard cock. 

“You can touch me, liebling,” his lips quirk up into a half smile, “I only bite a little.”

A giggle slips out and your hand grasps the base of his dick and squeezes earning a low groan from the handsome man next to you. 

“Stroke me, tease me, do whatever you wish,” he murmurs, hands coming up to cup your breasts, “I’ll enjoy it all.”

You whimper as his long fingers dig into the soft flesh of your breasts, thumbs rubbing circles across your stiff nipples.

While one of your hands teases the head of his dick, you slide the other one to cup his balls making his cock kick, blurting precum onto your fingers.

“It’s so sticky,” you murmur unthinkingly, smearing the precum around his tip making it slippery for your fingers to rub across. 

He groans loudly, bucking his hips and sliding his cock through your fingers in a clumsy effort to fuck your loose fist. 

“And these are so sensitive,” his low tone razes goosebumps as he tweaks and pinches your nipples until you’re rubbing your thighs together. 

“Leon,” you moan, arching your back to press your breasts more firmly into his hands. 

“I haven’t had a chance to taste these,” he purrs, ducking his head to nip your chest.

“Please,” you tighten your hand around his cock and pump your fist, “bite me.”

He presses closer against you, hands pushing your breasts up as he dips his head down. Kissing the stiff peak, he licks around the puckered skin close to your nipple. 

“Smell so good,” he mumbles, kissing your nipple softly before sucking it into his mouth. 

He rolls his tongue around the hard bud before pulling away with a soft pop. He drags his lips down to suck on the skin underneath your breast before opening his mouth and biting deep into the tender flesh. 

“Oh god,” you cry out, body writhing so much Leon has to use one hand to grip your ribcage tightly to keep you still. 

You're too out of it to jerk him off, hands instead moving to grab onto his hips. He pulls away with a gasp only to sink his bloody teeth into the soft fat of your other breast. Your cunt is a drippy mess by the time he pulls away the second time, tongue sucking the blood off his fangs as his eyes seem to shine with unnatural light. 

“The finest of wines,” he smiles at you, licking his lips slowly. 

Your cunt throbs and aches, walls fluttering around nothing—feeling empty and needy. 

“Leon,” you grab his hand and guide it to your soaked cunt, “please, I want you.”

“Oh my beautiful bride, so wet and ready for me,” he hisses, easily sinking two fingers knuckle deep into your clenching pussy.

Your hands move from his hips to dig into his shoulders making him grind his fingers deeper into your aching cunt. He pulls them halfway out before thrusting them back in, the flat of his palm smacking against your swollen clit. 

Nails digging deeper into his skin, you rock your hips in time with his hand, whining and moaning as he fingerfucks your pussy rough and deep. 

“Such a sweet little wife I have,” he kisses your ear as your eyes struggle to stay open, cunt clamping down on his fingers from the endearment. 

He drags his cock against your thigh, smearing precum against your skin to mix with the slick dripping from your pussy. 

“I want to be inside you,” he whispers hotly against your lips, “I want to be buried deep in my bride’s pussy as I drink from her pleasured body.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, throat dry from all your gasping and panting, “I need you inside me, Leon. Please.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly making you  whimper once your cunt’s empty again. Leon shushes you gently, gripping his cock in one hand while his other grabs your thigh and wraps it over his waist. Rubbing the fat head of dick up and down your slit, he teases his cock across your hole before using the tip to part your pussy lips and rub across your sensitive clit.

You rock your hips forward and he kisses your neck, tongue lapping at the marks he left. Moving his cock back down, he slowly presses his dick into your leaking hole. 

“So tight,” he murmurs, praise lacing his tone and making you hump down onto his cock.

He lets you work your wet cunt on his dick until he’s buried fully inside your pulsing heat. 

“Needed this,” he groans, rutting his cock slowly in and out of your pussy, “needed to be inside of you, a part of you.”

Pleasure washes over you like the tide meeting the shore. Leon’s cock grinds against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt making you ooze slick until it’s dripping down his balls, leaving a creamy ring around the base of his dick. 

With a small shift, he rolls you completely over onto your back, body weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucks in deeper inside your fluttering pussy. His pelvis grinds down onto your pudgy clit sending little bolts of desire throughout your whole body. 

“Leon, so good,” you whimper, fingers grasping at his biceps, hips rolling forward to keep his dick inside you, leaking tip pressed against your cervix. 

“Taking me so well, a perfect fit,” he kisses you gently, sucking your tongue into his mouth, teeth nicking the muscle causing blood to flavor your kisses. 

Moaning hungrily, Leon gets rougher, mouth pressing against yours so tightly your teeth ache. A high keening cry slips out between the bruising press of Leon’s lips against yours. Pulling away, he growls and drags his mouth to your neck, lathing his tongue against the multitude of wounds he left earlier. 

“So tight around me, are you getting close, little love?” He chuckles and teases your neck with his teeth making you keen and squirm against him. 

“Yes, please, ‘m close,” you moan, legs coming up to wrap tightly around his waist, “w’nna cum, wanna feel you inside me.”

Leon hums and swivels his hips, rutting his cock into your cunt without pulling out until you’re clawing at his back with short choked off whines. He grinds against your clit until your eyes roll back into your head. 

His teeth sink into your neck one last time, pushing you over the edge for the second time as your orgasm crashes through your body. Crying out, your arms and legs lock around Leon’s body, head thrown back as your cunt clenches around his dick. 

“So lovely,” he pulls back, licking the blood away from your neck, “my perfect bride.” 

He rabbits his hips into your squelching cunt until finally stilling, cock buried balls deep inside your spasming pussy as you milk his throbbing dick. Your pussy walls flutter and clamp down around him as he spills hot and sticky inside your slick heat. 

“Beautiful,” he kisses your earlobe with a sigh, cock kicking inside your pussy as he finishes painting your walls white. 

Endorphins make you dizzy and bubbly, smiling up at Leon’s blood stained face as he gazes lovingly down at you. 

“My husband,” you murmur, lovesick and sweet, hands coming up to caress his face and he kisses each of your palms. 

“All yours,” he promises seriously, “there is a reason why all things are as they are.”

You laugh and smooth a thumb under his eye, “You’re so cute.”

He snorts a laugh, delighting you immensely, and settles down into the messy sheets before pulling you into his chest. 

With a soft kiss placed atop his heart, you snuggle into his body until he wraps his arms around you. The soft rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep. 

Talking to Lara the next day is surprisingly easy. You have the feeling Leon used some weird vampire energy on her since she seemed unusually chill about it. Promising you that she’ll keep in touch once she heads back home, you spend the few short hours she has left together before she leaves early for the airport. 

It’s sad to see her go, but with Leon’s steady presence next to you filling your senses with that wonderful smell of cloves and cedar, you have zero regret in staying. 

[jarondont]

These Actions Haunt My Days

Odysseus was used to getting weird dreams. But this one was different.

Someone was watching him.

“Athena?” he called into the dream-void.

A soft chuckle came from behind him. “Don’t mistake me for one of the immortals, Laertides.”

Odysseus whirled around as a man’s figure faded into view. It was someone he recognized, but couldn’t quite put a name to. “Who are you?”

“I’m just a man.” The figure raised a hand and gestured to him. “Like yourself.”

Odysseus’s hand flew to his waist, then he remembered that this was just a dream. He can’t hurt you. And you can’t hurt him.

“What do you want, stranger?” he spat.

“You call me stranger, yet you too triumphed over my fallen body.”

So he was a ghost. An enemy … Odysseus almost didn’t dare ask. “H—Hector?”

The Son of Troy smiled—a gentle smile, although his eyes held a controlled rage. “No respect for your opponent, it seems. It took you that long to recognize me.”

“Why are you here, prince?”

His smile faded as his expression hardened. “I wanted to talk to you, one father to another.”

Oh.

“If this is about your son—”

“You did it to protect your own. I understand that. But…” He sighed. “You and I are not as different as you might think, Odysseus.”

The tactician titled his head, cautious but curious. “Oh?”

“You are a king, fighting for your country. You fight for your wife, who awaits you back at home. And your son, who you want to see grow up to live a glorious life. And you will do anything necessary to protect those you love the most.” Hector stepped closer and softened his voice a little. “I, too, fight for my people. For me, my city is my first love. I did everything in my power to try and protect it, but my efforts were in vain.”

Odysseus lowered his eyes.

“My wife, my Andromache—she longed for an end to that terrible war so that we could be happy together. But I told her … I told her that I might not come home—as surely you must have told your Penelope.”

“You—”

“And my son. All I wanted was for him to grow up to become a good prince—Lord of the City, as we called him.” His eyes filled with sorrow. “He was an infant, Odysseus. I understand that it was between you and him, but … he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be slaughtered in such a dishonorable way. You were given a choice, Odysseus, you—” his voice caught in his throat. “You could have raised him; you could have given him the life I never could. But you didn’t. You chose the easy way out.”

“Easy?” Odysseus’s temper flared. “You think it was easy to hold your son over the walls of Troy, all while looking into his eyes and only seeing my own? You think it was easy to ride inside that horse into the city as the people celebrated, knowing that their joy would be short-lived? You think it was easy to watch the city burn as the people screamed for mercy, calling for their loved ones so they could breathe their last in each other’s arms? All while knowing full well that it was your fault this entire massacre occurred?” Tears were running down his cheeks now, staining his chiton. “None of this was easy, prince. It haunts my every step; occupies my every thought. I wish—how I wish I could have prevented this, but in the end, it was never up to me.”

“No,” Hector whispered. “But you could have tried.”

Odysseus’s heart ached. “I did,” he choked. “I really did.”

“There’s blood on your hands,” Hector said softly. “And there will be more. But whose blood—that remains up to you.”

With that, Hector’s figure disappeared, leaving Odysseus to fall to his knees and cry, each sob clenching his heart with guilt.

[winterisol]

"tenho medo da minha cabeça"

inspired of "Medo do Medo" by O Terno Rosquez AU (BIG ANGST) Warnings death, depression

So this is a really dark idea I've been playing around with for a while involving the whole 2015 divorce.

So the title of this fic literally means "I'm scared of my head" and I would like a fic where it applies to both Vale and Marc in 2015.

I would say by the beginning of 2014 these two are fucking, maybe even dating. Its like those shallow high school relationships, and probably with an unhealthy power dynamic. But over time its clear that those power dynamics are in place, not because Marc is any less than Vale, but is willing to give Vale that power because Marc loves and trust Valentino that much. And maybe that is part of the reason the divorce happens.

Young and emotional Marc giving his heart a little bit too easily V. Valentino Rossi, a man famous for his commitment issues.

Starting with Assen, Valentino begins to doubt Marc, aka being delulu, starting to believe maybe they aren't as buddy buddy as Marc acts in front of the camera. (Though he is really looking for more of an excuse to put distance between them)

Typical 2015 and then bam the Philip Island conference. I think Marc searches Valentino out after the conference, hoping it was all some joke, only for Valentino to be cruel and cutting, maybe poking at some of Marc's biggest insecurities. Perhaps Valentino says Marc is "dangerous" that he's "reckless" but the words that hurt the most is that Marc was "dumb" to "fall in love" and that Valentino "never loved him." (This is categorically untrue but so is a lot of the other BS vale says, so yeah). If I really want to go darker, maybe Valentino even says, that he knew Marc was dangerous the day he crashed out in 2011, you know the crash. The crash that almost killed and ended Marc's whole career.

Anyway, Marc is definitely in his head, but tries to use Sepang as a way to get back at Vale. Just like in IRL, this backfires, Valentino kicking Marc off his bike and the divorce is finalized.

Marc is now completely lost in thoughts, perhaps second guessing every aspect of his relationship with Valentino. I think there are a few incidents leading up to the finale. There is of course journalists trying to break into Marc's family home. People yelling things at him on track, at the paddock even at the airport. He has security to following him constantly, and everything is a lot. But I think Valencia is where shit truly hits the fan.

It's suppose to be a home race for Marc, a race in his country, Spain. But even here, he's jeered, people abuse him and it feels like no matter where he goes, no on likes him, because no one is greater than Valentino Rossi.

Following the end of the season Marc falls into a depressive rut not even his mother or brother can drag him out of. He feels lost and not in control, which only panics and depresses him more (another control freak). It's like a negative feedback loop, and he just wallows for weeks.

Then finally, for some reason, maybe it's after Alex cries begging his brother to be happy again, Marc tries to go about life again. But he's an empty husk, just going through the motions of a person who no longer exists.

Perhaps its at the beginning year test in Sepang. Marc is riding, and even while riding the thoughts seem to not go away. Perhaps he loses focus because of the biting feelings of depression, or even worse he's silently wishing to just die already. Either way, he crashes, letting the front slide and the rear lift, throwing him head first into the tarmac.

I think Marc passes away basically on impact (idk how realistic it is with these types of crashes). Perhaps there is a mistake with the medic team, pre-season testing and everything leading to the correct safety measure not being taken. He's basically lying there on circuit, slowly dying, brain turning fog, but his last thought is that he's thankful for the reprise (ouch).

His death is obviously a shock to the whole motorsport world. A young talent, the youngest motoGP world champion, the baby alien, a kid with so much more to live for. gone.

Then in Marc's motorhome as Alex's goes to sob on his brother's bed, he sees a series of papers. Marc wrote notes to him, his parents, his friends but also Jorge, Dani and Valentino. (These notes are NOT suicide notes, more like Marc trying to collect his thoughts, and doing it as letters to people he cares/cared about bcuz its easier that way. These notes were never intended to see the light of day)

Alex is obviously inconsolable, reading through it, realizing its less of a note to him, but a confession. Marc venting all his dark thoughts through a message to his younger brother, thinking that Alex would never find or hear these thoughts.

Then there are the letters to Dani, Jorge and Valentino.

These letters are apologies, Marc overthinking every mistake, trying to rationalize the reason for his loneliness.

Dani reads it and feels like a failure. Not being a good enough teammate, a good enough mentor, a good enough friend for Marc, who's only goal in life was to win and enjoy winning.

Jorge is furious at first, storming towards Valentino and yelling bloody murder, before throwing Vale's note at him. Jorge feeling guilty that he secondhandly caused the divorce.

And then Vale, is a mess. In every sense of the word, he almost withdraws from the first race of the season because of how messed up everything is. He feels, guilt, loss, despair but also an indescrible amount of regret. Not only is Marc dead, but they ended on such horrible terms. Valentino not only lost the love of his life, but let the love of his life believe that he was unlovable.

I think it takes the combined effort of Vale's friends (yes even Uccio) as well as a reconciliation with the Marquez family to make Valentino feel even remotely human again.

It's slow, and perhaps it ends with Valentino creating a small monument for Marc in his Ranch, which every February 17 at 12:00 AM he leaves a bouquet of forgetmenots and daisies.

[yeollie-plz]

The Lovers

Knight! Pedro Pascal x Princess! Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: You always knew you would be queen one day, but you didn’t think the title came with an arranged marriage. Sir Pascal, offers you a way out.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: Y/N insert, mentions of blood and war, fantasy settings, contract marriage, age gap, fake marriage

Gif credits to owners!

The kingdom of Adéla was a small but strong one. It had a long running monarchy and a prospering army. Your family had been ruling for over five generations and soon it would be your turn.

The earliest memory you had was one of your father sitting you down on his thrown and telling you of the great things you could do for your country. His speech had made you feel empowered, you had never forgotten that moment.

Although you were a princess, your life wasn't all ballgowns and parties. It was also duty and study. When you were not in the library reading any book that was shoved towards you, you were sat beside your father learning the ins-and-outs of politics. The next moment you were learning to ride or keeping the peace in town. It seemed like there was never a moment to relax. You were stuffed into corsets and powdered with makeup. You were rushed to taste all the new offerings of the kitchen. You were...exhausted.

And when you were finally in the solitude of your room, you would think but to your earliest memory. It would make you sigh, eyes shutting, as you attempted to rub the strain out of your worried brow. You knew you had to be the queen everyone needed. You knew you had to follow your duty and keep the strength of your kingdom alive.

Your twenty-fifth birthday was arriving rapidly. Although you wouldn't become queen until your father passed (long live the king), this was the year you were to take on more responsibilities and start making decisions on your own. It was tradition. You were prepared, yet admittedly nervous.

You usually wouldn't make a fuss about your birthday but your mother insisted on it.

"This year is special." She would say. You nodded in agreeance, knowing you would never be able to get her to back down.

Preparations for your birthday party caused everyone to bustle around the palace more than usual. Your father, knowing you didn't really care, set you up in the library with a few study materials and left with a wink to deal with your stressed mother.

You tried to focus but it became difficult with all the noise from outside the large oak doors. With a sigh, you gathered all of your materials into your bag, and made your way outside to the garden. There was still some people out here but if you just went past the trees, you should be able to find some quiet.

Finally finding a comfy spot you placed your bag on the leaf covered ground. Sliding your jacket off your shoulders, you laid it out under a tree and sat down. You decided to take a breath and look up at the towering trees before getting enveloped into your books. Shutting your eyes as a gust of wind flowed over you.

Just for them to snap open at the sound of a blade slicing through the air and sticking to the tree inches from your head. You looked up at the assailant with a mixture of fury and confusion evident in your face. You couldn't see their face with the sun shining behind them.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" A man's voice asked.

"Me? I should be asking you that. Especially after almost slicing my head off." Grabbing the blade of the sword you pulled it out of the tree and away from your face. You ignored the pain from the cut you had inflicted onto yourself and stood to meet the man.

His face came into view as his brows furrowed looking down at the hand you had used to touch the blade. He was of good height and build with dark curly hair. A knight's badge glistened from his casual jacket.

"Why is an off duty knight carrying a sword?"

He ignored your question instead asking about your hand.

You rolled you eyes, "It's fine. Answer my question."

"I was on my way to bring it to the blacksmiths when I saw you."

"So you decided to use it?" You laughed out of shock. He nodded solemnly, still staring at your hand.

"I told you its fine. So, you thought I was trespassing into the palace?" Another nod.

"And what if I told you I lived here?" He finally looked up at your face.

"You live h-" He's cut off by someone calling your name. You both look towards the voice a maid coming into view.

"Ah, Princess Y/N, there you are. Your mother's been asking for you." She spoke up, glancing over at the man who was still staring at you.

"Princess?" The realization of his mistake flashing behind his eyes.

You laughed again, this time from amusement. "Yes, princess, sir..?"

"Pascal." He responded.

"Well Sir Pascal, it was very nice to-" your eyes glanced down to his sword "-meet you." Bowing your head slightly, you followed the maid back into the palace. Glancing back to still see him standing there in shock. What a strange man.

---- One Week Later, The Day Of The Party ----

Your wound was healing nicely, despite your mother had given you a lecture about going into the woods and hurting yourself. You hadn't returned to the woods and you hadn't seen Sir Pascal since that day.

Today was your birthday and the day of the party. Your mother had told you to stay in your room until tonight and not greet any guests. You weren't really sure why, but you agreed to her conditions anyway.

Your maids had been in and out of your room, getting you ready all day long. All of them convinced you had to look even prettier and more put together than usual. You just let them push you around and do anything they desired, knowing it was better to just sit still. A knock sounded at your door about an hour before your big entrance. Your maids were almost done with their preparations when your father walked into the room. Everyone stood and bowed in greeting, he smiled back.

"Ladies, can you leave us alone for a minute. I would like a word with the birthday girl." His smile now reached his eyes as you looked at you. You maids hurried out, leaving just you two.

"You look lovely, my dear." He father complimented, grabbing your hand in his. He turned it over in his hand and traced your veins.

"You know when your mother went into labor, I was so nervous. I knew one day I would have to have heirs, but when it was finally happening, I was besides myself. I didn't know how to be a father, let alone a good one. But the minute you arrived and the doctors had told me it was a girl, I felt like everything made sense. When I held you in my arms for the first time, I knew you would be a great leader. And as you grew it became more and more apparent everyday." He paused, as tears welled up in his eyes, yours mirroring his.

"Father..." You whispered.

He laughed and stood up straighter, dropping your hand. Breathing deeply to hold back his tears.

"Anyways, have a wonderful party my dear, I will see you down there." He moved towards the door and grabbed the knob. Turning it and opening it just a crack before turning back towards you.

"I'm sorry." He said before rushing out. Leaving you confused about what he was apologizing for.

Your maids finished getting you ready, after crying they had to touch up a bit of your makeup too. It was now time for you to join the rest of the guests down in the ballroom.

As you made your grand entrance down the large staircase, you scanned the crowd for any familiar faces. Your eyes locked onto Sir Pascal's, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked you up and down, you felt a blush rise to your cheeks before you forced yourself to look away.

The party was going smoothly, you were greeting dignitaries, eating, drinking, and dancing. Your mother had done an amazing job with the decorations, it was gorgeous. You kept meeting eyes with Sir Pascal but he never made his way over to talk to you.

You sighed finally deciding you would talk to him first. Just as you began to make your move towards him, your father called everyone's attention.

"I feel it's only right if the father of the birthday girl makes a speech." He laughed, causing everyone in the room to join in. "Y/N, is my only child and I have always held her close to my heart. One day she will be your Queen, a very important position, that she is more than prepared for." He smiled towards you. Tearing his eyes from you he looked over at your mother who nodded.

"But the Queen and I felt she should never have to rule alone." Your brows furrowed in confusion as two men made their way next to your parents. One was short, middle aged, with red hair. The other young, tall, and blonde. You weren't sure if you had met them before.

"Your new husband." A voice whispered behind you, you turned your head to see Sir Pascal standing there.

"My what?" You whispered back, sure you had heard him incorrectly.

"Your betrothed, the blonde." He nodded his head towards the younger man.

You snapped your head back towards your father who was trying to read your face.

"We have decided to agree to a marriage between our two nations. The second son of Corenth, Prince Xavier to marry our Princess Y/N."

You couldn't hold back the shock from your face, as your jaw dropped open. You looked to the blonde, who you now knew to be Prince Xavier, he looked solemn. He must not like the idea either. Your eyes shifted to your father, he met them, a look of apology flooding his features.

Suddenly a heat rushed through you, your heart pounding inside your chest, as an applause erupted at the announcement. You were now acutely aware of the amount of bodies around you and the boning of your corset crushing your lungs, no longer able to breathe. You grasped at the lace of your dress trying to find some sort of relief but it was of no use.

Someone congratulated you from your left and it snapped you out of your stupor. You glanced quickly at the large glass doors that led out to the gardens. Without thinking, you grabbed the bottom of your dress so you wouldn’t trip and ran straight out the doors.

You kept running until you made it to a gazebo, where you feel to your knees and attempted to catch your breath. The night air had a slight chill to it, shocking your system into working again. As your breathing became more steady, you started to really process what you had just learnt. Suddenly a voice sounded behind you.

“So, looks like that wasn’t only an announcement to the kingdom, but you as well.” Out of anger you met the face that went with the voice. Sir Pascal was leaning against the banister of the gazebo. Your eyes bore into him.

“And you’re not happy about it either.” He deduced, more to himself than to you. A scoff was all you could muster.

He lifted himself back to an upright position and walked towards you. He bent down to a squat next to you and handed a glass to you. You eyed it suspiciously.

“Water.” He said with slight amusement. “Not like I’d poison you or anything.”

“You almost chopped my head off the first time we met.”

This time he did let of a laugh, “You’re right, but if I knew who you were I wouldn’t have done it.”

“So if I wasn’t the princess, you would’ve just done it, no hesitation.” You took a sip from the cup.

“No, if you weren’t so beautiful, I would’ve done it, no hesitation.” You choked at his response, quickly you covered it by clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I’m betrothed.” You said with an eye roll.

“But you don’t want to be.”

“No, I do not.” You looked down into the cup.

“What do you want?” He moved from his squatting position, fully onto the floor next to you. He rested his head on his hand and leaned in a little closer. You could almost feel his breath on your neck.

“I’m really not sure. My whole life I’ve been trained to rule. I always knew I was stuck in this box of being princess and later I’d be even more stuck as queen. But I never thought my choice of love would be taken away.”

He hummed in response. A silence washed over the two of you.

“Marry me.” He spoke up suddenly after a minute or two of the silence.

“What?” Now it was your turn to be amused.

“Marry me.” He repeated, it was a statement not a question.

“And how would that solve my problem?”

“We can say we got married in secret, I have a few friends who would be witnesses. Plus that maid saw us together the other day.” He pondered for a second.

“So your solution to me getting out of a loveless marriage is to enter a fake loveless marriage?” Your eyebrows raised in a mix between confusion and curiosity.

“Yes. We say we got married in secret and consummated it, I’m sure the King of Corenth, won’t want a daughter-in-law that’s been deflowered.” He said the last word like it was a curse. “He’s old fashioned. He’ll want the perfect, obedient wife for his son.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Well I’m actually from Corenth, my mother used to work in the palace. She told me many stories.”

You nodded.

“What about my parents reactions?” You had forgotten about them entirely.

“I’m a pretty high ranking, officer in Corenth, I’m sure they can still work out a deal with them.”

There’s a silence again as you contemplate his plan.

“So?” He spoke up.

“You’re not tricking me right?” You were suddenly aware of the distance between you. You were also now aware of the things he was implying.

“I would never trick you.”

You scoffed.

“So?” The amusement was back.

“Fine, I’ll marry you.”

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Hossabara Concept Art

Translation notes and id under the cut!

Translation Notes:

"Woman of maturity" is once again a Japanese term that doesn't translate super well that means "aunt." Just plain "woman" or "lady" might have also worked, but given that he specifically comments on her age afterwards, I wanted to show that her age/maturity was something he had already touched on.

"Rushing to the Rescue on Horseback (Missus)" is probably more literally translated as "Rushing to Recover and Rescue on Horseback (Wife)". The "wife" bit in particular was odd because Hossabara's pretty notably not a wife of anyone in the game, but this could potentially be explained by the specific word for "wife" they used which seemed to specifically be "wife" in the context of a phrase meaning "a household where the wife is the boss." There wasn't an awesome English equivalent for that, so I went with "Missus" since it had a vaguely similar vibe (i.e. someone calling their wife "the Missus"). I also left out the "Recovery" part of the title because I couldn't find a good way to phrase the title otherwise I felt like "rushing to the rescue" encapsulated the concept of "recovering something", and it also just felt more punchy.

A lot of the notes on the bottom half near the scholar designs were sort of iffy for me. As far as I could tell, it seemed like a lot of them were kind of jotted, not-completely grammatical notes, which made it tricky to translate. I think the translations are more or less literally accurate, but they're probably not worded as well as they could be and likely don't get the entire intended meaning across.

"Acts with dignity" is literally something more like "acts with depth/acts with profundity", but I switched up the wording to something that sounded better in English.

[image id: Two pages from the Triangle Strategy artbook surrounding the topic of Hossabara. The first page has a colored and uncolored version of her canon portrait, along with a note that reads (in English), "A bold woman of maturity with a good spirit. In Japanese RPGs, beautiful men and women tend to be your companions, but I feel personally appreciative that characters of this age group are also given the spotlight. (Tatsuaki Urushibara)". The second page is titled "Rushing to the Rescue on Horseback (Missus)" and has several images of Hossabara, including one where she rides her horse and another where her face is visible with nearby speech, saying, "I'm here to help! Hang in there, everyone!" There are also several drawings detailing her outfit, with the following notes:

"Rescue Missus

These are clothes from C

Arena Mechanic Character

There are arenas in every country

She's on a provincial tour

Absorbs the cultures of all countries

Has the feel of a magic unit

Represents orientalism"

The second half of the page has three different drawn figures. The first is an "ordinary" Hyzantian scholar, an old man in a cap and gown. The second is a scholarly-looking woman with a staff. The third is much closer to Hossabara's final design. There are several notes regarding how Hossabara is meant to be "liberal," and brainstorming how to best express that. The second design has a note that reads "ride with an open mind," "curious robust type," and "talks a lot." Hossabara's almost-final design has a note that reads "acts with dignity," "dresses indecisively," and "She's practical and academic, so she's light on her feet." The final illustrator's note reads: "Mr. Ikushima drew up a rough sketch of an exceptionally cool lady, and I followed up on that with small details. (Tatsuaki Urushibara)" /end id]

[crownmemes]

General Sentences, Vol. 10

(Assorted original sentences. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Being old doesn't make you not a babe."

"You know, I don't have anything to prove to you."

"The human brain can be an unpredictable mystery ride."

"Why be boring when you can be overwhelmingly well-dressed?"

"You’re almost as inspiring as a biscuit."

"Every human being deserves some ice cream."

"I love it when you take charge."

"The fact that you're sexy doesn't mean that you're talented."

"Being feminine doesn't mean that you are not a murderer."

"I bet you're the kind of guy who makes girls want to hang themselves."

"I don't know what to do..."

"You need to leave the country."

"You are being weird."

"I feel ashamed of how I've treated you."

"Stop being sexy."

"Being grumpy is really not helping."

"How do you know my name?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"I hope you took my job offer seriously."

"I sincerely hope you are not suggesting that I have something to do with this."

"Your family should make an effort."

"A philosopher is a loser with a cool title."

"Getting stabbed is very demotivating."

"Don’t forget that some people will love you no matter what."

"There are beautiful girlfriends, and then there are your girlfriends."

"There's nothing wrong with being alone."

"Is that good news or bad news?"

"You're as perfect as a puppy."

"The doctor says you have a mild concussion."

"Your future is a fucked up joyride."

"If one wants to become rich, there is one safe bet: be born rich."

"I think we're being followed."

"You don't look so good."

"How long are you going to refuse to trust me?"

"Wishful thinking is existential dread’s bastard child."

"I appreciate your concern, but I wouldn't have done that anyway."

"There’s no 'i' in 'stupidity'."

"Why do you have such a fear of intimacy?"

"How many people have you killed?"

"What are you insinuating?"

"You're mildly amusing."

"Beware of women who think you're hot."

"Emotions are trying to exploit your brain."

[yallthemwitches]

Catch the Wind, Ch. 8: Operator (That's not the way it feels)

We finally made it to the "break from school" chapter. It's got NSFW, fluff, and sentimental bits. You're welcome?

The song Lily plays for James is also the chapter title: Operator (That’s Not the Way It Feels) By Jim Croce if you are curious.

AO3 link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57047455/chapters/147067795

Lily sat on her trunks on the curb in front of Kings’ Cross station. 45 minutes late. She tapped her feet for a moment before winding her hair into a bun and spearing it with her wand. 

Her mum and dad were never so late. She figured she must have been the last Hogwarts student left at the station. Remus, who was one of the last standing as well, offered to wait with her despite his very nervous looking parents appearing to take him home, but she declined the company. 

Despite not seeing him on the train, she did get to see James’ departure. How could she have missed it? He practically galloped over to an older woman and grabbed her into a hug with Sirius following suit, wrapping his arms around both of them. They all disappeared together around the corner and for a split second Lily wished she could have gone with them. But instead here she was. On the curb, still waiting. 

She heard a shrieking honk and a car pulled up next to her. Petunia didn’t even stop the car. She rolled down the window and called out. 

“Well, come on! I’m not trying to get a ticket for your sake!” 

Lily shoved her bags into the trunk and slid into the front seat. Petunia glared at her, before pulling the car back onto the road and towards the highway. 

“Wasn’t expecting you,” Lily mumbled. 

“Don’t mumble, it’s irritating,” Petunia quipped. “And mum and daddy had an engagement down at the country club—so they made me come. You’re welcome by the way.”

Lily snorted. She moved her hand to turn on the radio but Petunia slapped it away before she could even reach the dial. 

“Don’t touch that,” She chided, not even looking away from the road. Lily looked around the car. It wasn’t her parents, nor did she think Petunia had a car. A rather large suit coat hung from the back seat. 

“Vernon lets you drive his car?” It was an earnest attempt at a conversation. 

Petunia frowned. “Don’t say it like you're surprised. And yes, so don’t touch anything–especially the radio. He has everything set to his favorite stations.”

“Of course he does,” she mumbled to herself and leaned her head back. 

They drove in silence for about thirty minutes or so. Lily was starting to doze off. She coaxed herself to sleep with the vision of messy black hair; calloused hands on her thigh; lips just hovering over hers…

Petunia slammed on the breaks with a shriek. Lily bolted awake and Petunia grasped onto the wheel with her life. 

“What is that?” She stared out Lily’s side window. On the rear-view mirror sat a rather windswept and disoriented owl; clearly befuddled from attempting to hold onto the moving vehicle. Lily rolled her window down as Petunia shrieked again.

“My god Lily, do not let it in here.” Lily untied the letter that was attached to his foot and gave him a little pat. The bird flew back off into the sky, leaving Petunia more enraged now than scared. 

“We almost got in a car accident because some bloody freak needed to deliver you some post?” 

“Don’t be dramatic Tuney, you just got frightened.” Petunia mumbled something under her breath which Lily ignored. She undid the parchment to find a small note that appeared hastefully written. 

Lily,

I wasn’t lying about writing to you. I would try to send a letter every time I thought of you, but I think my owl would die of exhaustion within the first day if that was the case. 

It’s only been a few hours and I already miss you. It’s pathetic. 

James

Lily smiled and reread the letter. Petunia side-eyed her multiple times before making a scoffing noise and going back to looking at the road. 

Lily held the letter open on her lap for the rest of the ride to Cokeworth. When they pulled up to their house, Petunia cut the engine and locked the doors. 

“Keeping me hostage?” Lily looked warily at the lock as it clicked shut. 

“Listen. Vernon is already in the house.”

“I figured that when you had his car.” Lily quipped.

“Don’t be cheeky. And don’t provoke him.” 

Lily snorted. “ Provoke? When have I ever provoked him?” But Petunia didn’t answer. She flipped the overhead mirror down to check her lipstick before unlocking the doors. 

Lily folded up the letter and stuffed it into her pocket. Petunia rushed inside, leaving Lily to trudge up the garden steps with her luggage. She could hear the TV blasting inside the house. 

Vernon sat on the couch with a can of beer and an empty plate on the side cushion. Lily dragged her things in and dropped them with a thump in front of the television, forcing Vernon to avert his attention. 

“Hello Vernon.” Lily gave her best smile. 

Vernon looked at her with wide eyes and motionless. Lily stood in front of the TV smiling while Vernon stared back for an unreasonably long time. Petunia had mentioned that she was going to break the news to him about her situation, as she called it. Judging by the completely petrified look on his face, she had followed through on her word. 

“Watcha watching?” She batted her eyes. His fingers picked anxiously at the couch cushion. 

Vernon didn’t respond and turned off the TV with a grunt. There was another long pause between the two. In the other room, she could hear Petunia clanging pots and pans. 

Vernon stood up and straightened his tie. It was clear he was trying to look imposing, but his small head on such a large mass of body was not helping his cause. 

“Lily, I’m just going to say this once,” he started in. Lily couldn’t help but crack a smile. Can’t wait. 

“Whatever theatrics you plan to do this summer, could you please keep it to a minimum. It’s quite enough already with your— condition.”

Lily’s eyebrows shot to the top of her head. She could feel the heat rising on her cheeks. 

“Theatrics.” She repeated. Vernon coughed and tugged at his tie again. 

Petunia entered the room and stopped in her tracks at the sight of Lily and Vernon engaging in a conversation. The glass of lemonade she was carrying quivered in her hand. 

“Lily, I need to talk to you.” Petunia’s voice wavered, but Lily waved away the comment with one hand. 

“No need. I’m going to go do some theatrics in my room.” Lily spit out. She trudged her trunk up the stairs and kicked open her bedroom door. 

It looked just as she left it, down to the incense ash littering the windowsill. She pulled out the letter from James and read it one more time. Even if she wanted to respond, she couldn’t. She didn’t have an owl, and James’ had already flown away while they were still in the car. Lily pushed her head into her pillow and made a guttural scream. I’m stranded. 

The week passed and Lily received nothing. At best, she assumed he was busy doing what pureblood wizards do during holiday: things steeped in magic and whimsy— much more fun than whatever she was passing the time with. At worst, he thought she was snubbing him. 

She sat on her bed and stared at the ceiling. It had become a new hobby for the summer—in the year’s past, she would’ve been out with Sev, talking about Potions recipes and picking his brain for all of the extra built-in knowledge that one doesn’t get living in a muggle household, but this year was obviously different.

Lily leaned over and turned on her record player. The scratch reverberated from the room, before the music started up. Lily closed her eyes. She thought of James’ hands sliding up around her back and onto her chest. The way his breath became shallow as his fingers made contact with her—

The phone rang. Lily turned off the record and hoped to hear the sound of someone padding down the hall to answer it. Instead, she heard the rush of the shower from Petunia and her shared bathroom. The phone started ringing again. 

Lily pushed herself up with a groan and trudged her way to the phone in the hall. 

“Evans’ residence.” There was a short pause. 

“Hey Evans” His voice was tentative. It sounded smaller than how he sounded in person, but it was unmistakably him. 

“...Potter?” She looked both ways down the hall—a stupid gesture seeing as no one in her household knew him.

“How are you talking to me right now?” She blurted out, regretting it the minute she said it. 

“Well Evans, from what I understand this is a telephone. It helps muggles to–” 

“No, but—sorry I just wasn’t expecting—” She teetered out. After not being able to answer his letter, and now being surprised by his voice, she was feeling a bit out of sorts. 

James laughed on the other line. “It’s Remus’ phone—his mum’s a muggle, you know. I–I wanted to see how you were—you didn’t write to me.” His voice sounded uneasy. Lily felt a sour feeling in her stomach. So he had thought he was ignoring her. 

“I’m so sorry, really. I-I just don’t have an owl, y’know. Honestly, I was hoping you would write again.” 

“Oh.” James' voice seemed to liven up, getting the confirmation he needed that he wasn’t being ignored. “Well—I’m happy to hear your voice. It’s not like seeing you, but y’know—I–I missed it. The sound of you?”

Lily couldn’t tell if it was him being a novice at phone conversation or if he was actually sounding sheepish. Lily let out a laugh. 

“Did I say something funny?—sorry I–” but Lily cut him off. 

“No, I’m so sorry. This is just—so weird.” A thought dawned on her. “Wait, does Remus know you are calling me?”

She could hear James shift. “ Nah, he’s out with Sirius buying butterbeer and god knows what. I told him I wanted to fiddle with the thing.”

“Oh,” Lily knew she shouldn’t sound as relieved as she was. The bathroom door to her right opened and Petunia stepped out with a towel wrapped around her head. She gave Lily a glare and padded over to tug at her elbow. 

“Vernon’s calling at four sharp.So don’t take ages.”

Lily put the phone to her shoulder and looked at her sister. “It’s an emergency Tuney. Vernon can wait.”

Petunia scrunched her face and slammed her bedroom door shut behind her. 

“Wow, I’ve reached emergency status. So, who was that charming sounding individual?” She could sense the curve of his smile. 

“My sister.”

“Ah, yes. Petunia.” He remembered her name. 

“Listen, I’m so sorry. I should’ve found a way to contact you. I’m going to need to go soon before my sister rips my head off but—”

“Can I come see you.” He posed it as a statement, rather than a question. Lily took a breath and looked around her hall. It was the most average, muggle looking home possible. Nothing someone by the likes of Potter would care for. On the other hand, going to his would mean there was a good chance one of his mates would find out…

“I’m sorry, I just—” James started but Lily cut him off again. 

“No–no! Sorry, it's just–-my house, it's plain.” She stammered out. 

She could sense another shift in the conversation. Bugger Lily, get it together.

Petunia had come out of her room again, looking angrier than before with wet hair framing her face. 

“Get off. the. phone.” She stood with her hands in fists at her side. 

James made a small laugh, but Lily could detect a bit of defeat in his voice. 

“Sounds like time’s up.”

“Yeah.” Lily didn’t know what to say. Of course she wanted to see him. Hell, she’d give anything to see him after just a week apart. Petunia’s hand was inching towards the receiver. 

“Please write me. I’m sorry again–I don’t know what I’m saying. I’d love to see you too. Let's—just write me again and I promise to send a letter back.”

“As you wish, Evans.” Lily started to say goodbye, but James stopped her.

“It’s been really nice. Whatever this is. Between us–all of it. I-I….yeah, I’ll write.”

Lily smiled and hung up the phone. Git.

It took less than an hour to receive his note. 

I’m sorry I’m no good at muggle conversing. I still would like to see you. If you want. 

J–

Lily barely could contain her happiness. She found a bit of cereal for the owl to munch on while she ripped up some paper to respond. 

Apparently I’m no good either. If you promise not to be weird, my sister will be out with my parents Friday. Come around then—if you want. 2pm? 

39 Greenwell Court, Cokeworth

Lily

Waiting for his response was the most harrowing time in her life. She leaned her head off the edge of her bed, letting the blood rush until she felt dizzy and pulled herself up. She thought about him walking around her house—looking at mum’s china collection, sitting on the sofa, coming into her room. 

Her breath caught. They had never been in each other’s living quarters before. Oh god. 

The owl tapped again at the window. She practically yanked its foot off trying to get at the little piece of parchment attached. 

No weirdness. I can’t wait. 

___________________________________________________________________________

James looked at himself in the mirror. He wet his hand and tried to smooth out the ends of hair that were sticking up in the back, but they wouldn’t budge. He was oddly nervous. He had never been to a real muggle home before, so that was unchartered territory, but then there was the added subject of it being Lily’s muggle home. 

He walked out of his bedroom and bounded down the stairs. Sirius was reading a book on a loveseat in the salon.

“I’m headed out mate, can I borrow the bike?” Sirius didn’t look up from his book but reached over to grab a cigarette from the end table. 

“Whereabouts, you going lil’ Prongsy?” Of course Sirius would prod. 

“I told Peter I would help him de-gnome his garden. His mum punished him for the summer for all the detentions we got last year." It was a gamble, but it was a plausible enough excuse. 

Sirius nodded his head and lit his cigarette. “Sounds riveting, have fun, mate.”

Before Sirius could ask anything else, James bounded out the door and on the bike which roared to life. 

He landed a couple streets away near a nice wooded area, then drove normally the rest of the way.

The house was small with a rather nice garden walk-up. James all the sudden felt sweaty and tense. Their last conversation wasn’t exactly how he imagined it would go. In his fantasies, the call included a wedding proposal and him soaring to take her away via broomstick—but hey, baby steps. 

When he got to the door, it swung open before he could even knock. She stood there in muggle clothes, her hair down except for a small bun that twisted around her wand in the back. She seemed sort of out of breath—like she had been caught doing something wrong. She was more beautiful than he had been able to conjure up in his dreams in the past week.

“You came.”

He let her lead him into the house.Her quiet and contemplative movements mixed with the odd interior of a muggle home made him feel like he was in a dream state. Time seemed to be moving slower. 

“Uhm, I really didn’t think farther than this, sorry.” Lily fiddled with her hair.

“Hey, relax. I’m just happy to see you.” A bit of blush crossed her cheeks. 

“So—what should we do?” Oh god how dare she ask that question. A million ideas passed through James’ brain, each more lecherous than the rest. 

“Show me your record collection?” He offered. Solid response, he remarked to himself. 

Lily ushered him up the stairs to a room at the end of the hall. She stopped before a closed door and turned to him with her eyes lowered.

“Uh, it's in my room—” She was hesitant, but cracked the door open. Inside he could see muggle movie and band posters on the walls, a rather large and overstuffed bookshelf, and her record collection compiled in crates at the foot of her bed. 

He walked in and did a few turns. It all smelled like her. Everything just emanated her style, it was like entering her brain—

“Here, I just got this one the other day. I haven’t gotten to really listen to it yet.” She picked up a record with a man’s face on it and a cursive script inlaid at the top and placed the record onto the turntable on her bedside table. A soft, melodic guitar started strumming. 

They stood and stared at each other for a while, neither knowing what to say. The music wafted around them. James’ heart was beating out of his chest. Do something.

“I really missed you.” She looked at him with a blank expression for a moment. The song changed. He worried he had said the wrong thing. 

Lily took the two steps she needed to close the distance between them. She wrapped her hands around his neck and hesitantly placed a kiss on his cheek, letting her lips graze just above his skin. She slowly moved to kiss the other cheek—making the same pauses, like she was testing out the waters. Then she hovered her lips over his mouth. He could feel her heart pounding on his. 

He wrapped his hands around her waist and pushed their lips together. Both of them moved slowly at first. Giving soft, patient kisses while their hands re-familiarized themselves with each other. 

Lily stopped kissing him to slide herself onto the bed, sitting propped up against the headboard. Without needing an invitation, James slid next to her and leaned in to start kissing her again. Her hand rested on his upper thigh, making small circles into his pants.

 Now more comfortable, their kisses started to become more reminiscent of their stolen moments at Hogwarts. Mouths open, moving in sync with each other, his tongue would wander into her mouth and she would sigh into him. The hand on his thigh started to roam a bit more–something that had not been accustomed to their previous moments together. He wanted it so bad. To feel her touch him in places she hadn’t let herself before, but there was an alarm ringing in his mind. Don’t muck it up. 

He took a breath and she smiled at him. Her eyes this close up were brilliant and deep; not quite erupting with desire like he had seen in the past, but yearning all the same. It was like she was savoring the moment. Somehow that was worse. 

Her eyes flicked down to his lap and she smirked a bit. Clearly he was doing a bad job at hiding his excitement from seeing her. He needed a distraction—something to calm him down now. 

“What’s the name of this song?” He gasped. 

She kept her lips against his. “I’ll need to check.” She didn’t want to, but he needed her to give him some space before he embarrassed himself. 

“Please,” He practically groaned out. Lily smirked and turned over to her turntable. Her skirt was riding up dangerously high. He could start to see the curve of her bum peeking out from under the fabric. He swallowed hard. Merlin, I need to calm down. 

“Operator— that's the song name—do you need me to tell you what year, place, and time the song was recorded too?” She looked at him with a smug expression. Eyeing his hand which was now conveniently placed over his lap. 

“I think the title is enough,” he whispered. He was losing a battle of wits. She looked so fit. The smell of her was drowning him. When she moved back, she didn’t go to her semi-modest position beside him, but rather hovered her body slightly over his before laying partly over him. Her leg draped over his and her chest pressing into him. 

“I really missed you too,” she pressed her lips to his ear. 

That was all it took. The levee in his brain broke and he grabbed her, flipping them so he was now above her. He wedged a knee in between her legs and she opened them earnestly, throwing pillows off the bed to make room to elongate herself. 

Her hands were everywhere all at once. In his hair, on his cheeks, running their way down his arms. She reached his hands which had remained modestly at her waist and tugged one under her top. She wasn’t wearing a bra again. He sucked in a breath. Oh Fuck.

He circled his fingers around her breast, feeling the soft curve of skin in his hand and her tit harden under his touch. He pinched lightly, rubbing the flat tip between his forefinger and thumb and she let out a sharp gasp. He moved to pull back, but she stopped him. She sat up quickly and without any fanfare, pulled her top over her head and onto the ground. 

He could tell the anxiousness was setting in a bit because her cheeks immediately turned red. James was frozen in place, taking her in. Everything about her was perfect. The curve of her breasts, the light pink that darkened as they reached the center, her collarbone which was pronounced and just taunting to be kissed. 

“You’re so beautiful.” She let out a nervous giggle. He slid his hands up her sides to her neck before putting their lips back together. He moved slowly— he could tell she was feeling defenseless. He kissed his way down her neck, cradling her softly to lay back down on the bed. He made it to her collar bone and sucked lightly. She made a small noise from under him and he  looked up to see that her eyes were gleaming down at him, her mouth slightly ajar, waiting for him to continue. 

He softly cupped one breast in his hand and after giving her one questioning glance, carefully put his lips on the other. She sighed as he opened his mouth and let his tongue run over her. Her hands ran through his hair, cradling his face into her. He felt like he was flying—just barely comprehending that she was sighing his name as he kissed his way to the other breast to repeat his work. 

She moved her hands to start tugging at his shirt, and he impatiently ripped it off before gluing his mouth back onto her. Her eyes brightened at the sight of him shirtless, and her hands seemed to find a new vigor as they lightly clawed at his back. 

After feeling satisfied with his work on her chest, he started to lazily move his lips further downward. They had already crossed one new barrier—what was one more?

Lily’s breath hitched and she cupped his chin with her hand. 

“James.” His name sounded incredible coming from her. He looked up from her stomach, keeping his hands wrapped around her. 

“I’ve never gone that far.” James’ body snapped to attention. On one hand, this was thrilling news. He couldn’t bear the thought of another bloke seeing the most intimate part of her—much less touching her there, but on the other hand, he could tell she was nervous—her eyes were dark and already blown out, but quivered a bit with hesitancy. 

James opened his mouth to offer a time out, pulling himself up to be at her eye level. 

“That doesn’t mean I want you to stop.” James felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Are you sure?” He sat up. Instead of responding, Lily used the opportunity to shimmy the already falling skirt off of her hips. Leaving her just in her knickers. James could feel his eyes blow out. Lily laughed nervously and started to move her hands over her chest, but he stopped them. 

“Please, don’t. Godric knows I’ve waited ages just to see you.”

“Well go on then, take off yours.” She blushed, gesturing to his pants. James didn’t need to be told twice. He shucked them off, equalling the playing field. 

They both sat up on their knees, letting each other take stock of the situation. James hesitantly put his arm on her shoulder and she relaxed a bit under his hand. Her eyes were ravenously scanning his body—if he hadn’t believed her when she said she thought he was fit before, he needed no convincing now.

“So, about not stopping.” She whispered. Her eyes were deep and her hair was now draped around her face in tangles. 

“Right.” James couldn’t lie, he had only gotten farther than this with one or two other girls—and those were haphazard experiences at best. Lily was trusting him with leading the way; a dangerous position to be in given the current nature of their relationship. He cupped her face for a moment, searching for confirmation before sliding his hand slowly down her neck, past her chest and stomach, and lingering at the top of her knickers. His heart was galloping in his chest. 

“Just get on with it then.” Lily laughed, but a real impatience was detected.  She had leaned back a bit on her knees–supposing that would give him a bit more leverage.

James slipped the tips of his fingers under her knickers, putting a gentle pressure on her pubic bone. Lily’s breath hitched. Her eyes were hooded looking down at his hand–almost closed. Her mouth was slightly ajar. 

He continued to dip his hand, until he reached a damp warmth between her. He felt a cindering burn in his body; he didn’t want to look down at his own groin, knowing full well he was showing his excitement. 

He caressed her with his index finger. The room seemed to go up at least 10 degrees and her scent was to the point of cloying. 

He looked at her face for reassurance. At this point he had been trying to move deliberately, not wanting to overextend his welcome. She looked completely flushed, her breathing shallow and her eyes now closed. It was taking all of his energy not to push her back on the bed and take over. 

Her eyes batted open to watch him. She could see he was barely keeping it together. His mouth hanging open and his eyes wild but concentrated on his hand’s movements. He placed his other hand on her breast, kneading it softly in a similar pattern to the other. 

She let out a hum. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” He barely choked out. That was all the confirmation he needed. His index finger slipped inside of her and he swore under his breath. He used his other hand to push her back down on the bed, and he climbed over her; still continuing his work. He watched as her eyes got heavier and heavier as he curled, twisted, and pumped his fingers into her. She started to make little noises intermittently with interjections of his name and other muggle expletives. He was losing his mind. 

“Lily—” he couldn’t even finish his thought. She tightened around him and he felt the wandering hand on his body start to quiver a bit. She ran both hands swiftly into his hair and pushed him into her. 

“James, I think I’m going to come.” She let out a deep moan and he felt her contract around him. She bit into the crook of his shoulder and he gasped at feeling her body releasing. It felt better than quidditch, than any present anyone could ever offer him, and it wasn’t even his orgasm. 

Her head fell back, she had broken a bit of sweat on her brow and she held onto him as she closed her eyes for a moment. 

“Ok,” she panted. “Your turn.” But before she could pull herself back up, James let go and sat next to her on the bed, removing all touch besides a hand absently fiddling with her hair.

His body was on fire. The urge to continue—to release this energy that had been pent up inside him for years was so seductive. But again, there were alarms in his brain. He looked at her, lying almost naked, her knickers now significantly soaked through from her release. He felt his heart beat fast.

Lily blinked her eyes open and started to move towards him, her hand slid up his leg and James’ eyes squeezed shut. Merlin I hate myself, he thought. 

He grabbed her hand, then softly held it to his chest. “It’s ok. You don’t have to.”

Lily looked like she had been slapped. It had never occurred to her that rejection was on the table.

She tried to pull away her hand, but James held it firm. “I-I’m sorry. I thought—maybe I misunderstood,” the words tumbled out of her with a painful croak. 

“Merlin–no Lily. It's not that I don’t want to—- I am dying here—I mean look at me.”

She did. He was breathing heavy, his eyes blown out and wild, and his underpants not doing a good job at hiding his excitement. She took a breath. 

“Then—let me….” She moved again to lower her hand to his groin, but he caught it again. 

“We can’t. I’m sorry.” She looked upset with him again and wrapped her arms around herself. 

“If I did something wr—” He grabbed her face with both hands before she could finish the thought. 

“If I let you touch me, I will fall in love with you.” Her eyes stared back at him. He said it only inches away from her face, and she could see his eyes burning. He almost looked sad saying it, like he was telling her a wish that couldn’t come true. 

She didn’t know how to respond. He continued.

“You have wanted to keep this a secret—and I have respected that. I don’t want this to end between us. Merlin, I wish it could go on forever. But unless something changes, I-I can’t. Fuck, I want to Lily, I mean I want to hex myself for saying all of this—but if I let you–let us—I won’t be able to go back.”

Lily placed her hands on his neck. Her thumb toyed with his collarbone. 

“I understand. I–I dunno. I’m just confused.” She admitted. 

“I’m not trying to rush you—but, it's getting harder. For me. You are all I’ve ever wanted—god that sounds so corny.”

Lily burst out laughing. Despite his semi-confession, it cleared the air. 

She pulled him lightly and they both laid down holding each other. They stayed in silence for a bit, him pulling his hands through her hair and her drawing little circles on his chest. 

She propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. 

“Just so you know, I hadn’t invited you here just to shag me.” James snorted. She shifted again, looking anxious. 

“You don’t want to fall in love with me.” She said it so plainly. He could have laughed, but her face was hard lined and sincere.

“At this point, I don’t know if I have a choice.” He looked at her. She was so beautiful, almost shining in the window light. She laid her head back on his chest. 

“Well, in any case I don’t think you should come visit again without supervision around— and I mean that with the highest of compliments.” She nuzzled her face into his chest and his hand found hers. 

[laurenairay]

taking on the world together - J. Oettinger

Summary: Gracelyn didn't realise how much of Boston she associated with Jake Oettinger until he was gone.

Warnings; light angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, ignoring the existence of COVID-19 to fudge the timelines, college years, one incident of mild harassment, some bad language.

Words: 11.4k

A/N: jumping in as a pinch hitter for @wyattjohnston’s summer fic exchange 2023! Writing for @jarmorie - I really hope you like this and I really hope I hit all your prompts! Spreading the Otter love as he deserves 💛 I was listening to this song and immediately got so inspired.

Tagging some fellow Otter fans: @senditcolton @extratragic @texanstarslove

Inspiration (and title) from Mine, by Taylor Swift

~~~

I was a flight risk, with a fear of falling, Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts.

~~~

September 2016.

Gracelyn Davis had never left Fayetteville, West Virginia before. At least, not before her father drove her across the country to Boston University like he had done over the past two days. Her mother had decided being in the car for that long with them ‘wasn’t for her’, and considering her father was a man of very few words, the 12 hours, spread over two days with a sleep stop in the middle, had been spent split between rereading one of her favourite books and watching the world go by out the window.

It was a quiet ride. Gracelyn was used to it.

Butterflies filled her stomach as they pulled into campus parking, the crowds of people almost overwhelming. They weren’t even in the heart of the city and already this was the busiest place she’d ever seen. Gracelyn matched her father’s silence as they unloaded the car, using the offered hand trolley to help with her boxes, her father pushing those with her duvet and pillows piled on top while Gracelyn pulled two suitcases and a large duffel bag. It didn’t take long to get herself all signed in, and once they’d piled all her belongings in the empty dorm room, she knew it was time.

With a brief hug and a ‘do your best’, her father left. She hadn’t really expected much more. Even the fact that she’d finally left her small town was more than she could ever have dreamed of.

“Whoo! Go Terriers!”

Gracelyn watched out the third storey window as small parade of energetic people dressed in red, white, and black jogged past her building, smiling to herself at the cheerful chaos. This was nothing like Fayetteville. She loved it already.

“Hey roomie!”

Gracelyn turned around sharply, hand to heart in surprise at the voice in the doorway. The campus had assigned housing to all freshman who’d applied, and she’d been put in contact with a ‘Madison’ to get to know each other. All she really knew was that Madison had blonde hair, came from Queens, New York, and was going to be studying Digital Marketing. That, and she had very strong opinions on everything from Taylor Swift to correct recycling methods to sheet thread count. Blonde, tanned, perfect white smile, and all the confidence of a city-kid that Gracelyn didn’t have.

“Oops, didn’t mean to startle you. It’s nice to meet you, Gracelyn,” she grinned.

At least she was friendly too.

“Nice to meet you too, Madison. I prefer Gracie,” Gracelyn said, smiling shyly.

“Gracie it is! And please, call me Maddie. We’re going to be the best of friends. I can already tell,” she grinned, throwing her blonde hair up in a bun. “Do you mind if I put on some music while we unpack?”

~~~

May 2020.

How time had flown by. As Gracelyn pulled out the first of her cardboard boxes to at least attempt to start packing up her half of the dorm room, memories flooded in. Maddie hadn’t been wrong – they really had become the best of friends over the past four years, forming a wider group of six of them in total. Herself, Maddie, Luisa, Jenny, Chanel, and Daisy, all girls scattered across their original freshman dorm building floor, all of them forming bonds that stuck with them over the past four years.

Each of their had majored in a different subject, each other them came from different states, but each of them had been the loyal, sweet, kind friends that Gracelyn had always hoped for, so she knew that even though their time at college together had officially come to an end, she wouldn’t be losing these friendships any time soon.

Late night study sessions, movie nights, sleepovers, makeovers, campus concerts, dinners out – all of these memories scattered across polaroid photos, Instagram accounts and genuine memories. All of the things that Gracelyn was going to miss so terribly.

She was even going to miss the parties, the wild nights out that were so often accompanied by singing at the top of their lungs, dancing until their feet ached, and nasty mornings after.

Speaking of parties, Maddie wasn’t the only person who Gracelyn met in her first week in Boston who turned her life upside down.

~~~

September 2016.

“Are you sure I look okay?”

Maddie gave her an incredulous look. “Gracie baby, you have the best ass in our group, of course you look okay. You look stunning, own it.”

Gracelyn blushed heavily, shaking her head with a laugh. The two of them had made quick friends with a few girls down the hallway, and somehow they’d all persuaded Gracelyn to go out to a party tonight. Her first proper college party. Her first proper party in general, if she was being honest.

“You know what I mean. I’ve never…you know I’m not a party girl,” she sighed.

“I’m not a party party girl either. I’m a hang out with my friends kind of girl, with music, and drink we shouldn’t have access to, and we’re going to dance and sing and have fun, okay? If there happen to be cute boys there who stare at your incredible ass, then so be it,” Maddie grinned.

The confidence of this girl was incredible. No-one had ever boosted Gracelyn up like she did either.

“It’s not too much?”

Gracelyn looked back at herself in the full-length mirror that Maddie had brought with her, checking out the deep-red tight dress that clung to her every curve, borrowed from their friend Chanel. If her mother could see her now, she’d have a conniption. Then again…maybe that was a good thing. The Gracelyn Davis of Fayetteville would never have showed off her body like this – yeah, maybe she had a slight pouch on her belly, and maybe her thighs didn’t have a gap, and maybe ass was a bit more of a bubble than she would like…but maybe for the Gracelyn Davis of Boston that was a good thing.

“It’s definitely not too much. How about you throw a leather jacket over the top and wear those comfy black ankle boots, hm? That way it’s not over the top, but still dressy, hm?” Maddie suggested, unwinding her final blonde curl from her curling wand.

That…that was a good suggestion. Thank god for Maddie.

“That sounds good to me,” Gracelyn said shyly.

“Atta girl,” Maddie grinned, “Now help me pick which lipgloss says try anything and I’ll bite.”

Four lip gloss swatches later and the two of them had headed out of their dorm room, Maddie knocking on their friends’ doors until the six of them were on their way to the alleged party, wherever that was.

“Now remember, the hockey guys are all mostly a bit dumb and will probably get a little handsy after a few hours of drinking, so don’t feel like you can’t loudly tell them no. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, stay with a group of us girls, yeah? I’ve heard most of the team are harmless, but there’s bound to be a bad apple or two in the bunch,” Daisy said, rolling her eyes.

Brilliant. That didn’t settle Gracelyn’s nerves at all. Girl time it was.

“How did you find out about the Terriers party anyway Daisy-boo?” Maddie asked, looping her arm through Gracelyn’s.

She clung on with gratitude.

“Eh, this Sophomore was trying to impress the new freshman players – I said I’d think about turning up with a few friends,” Daisy said coolly, her smile sharp.

Again, the confidence. Incredible.

“Treat ‘em mean, I like it,” Jenny snickered.

“He was harmless enough. Sounded like a good excuse for a party anyway, and the upperclassmen are providing booze with the caveat that no-one underage gets super wasted, so I figured why not have our first party in style, right?” Daisy shrugged.

As the rest of the girls sounded their agreement, Gracelyn tried to relax. She knew that her friends wouldn’t let anything happen to her. They already had a game plan for if any of them felt uncomfortable. She didn’t have to drink anything more than what she actually wanted to. She could do this, right?

“Here we are!”

Daisy’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, turning her attention to a large house that already had red solo cups scattered across the lawn and loud music blasting. Maddie squeezed her arm, dropping it so their hands were linked, the other girls pairing off in twos too, making sure that none of them got separated while they wound their way through the crowd. Gracelyn tried not to get overwhelmed at the sheer number of people squeezed into the main living area, managing to smile as Daisy waved flirtatiously at a guy she could only imagine was the Unfortunate Sophomore.

“Let’s get some drinks!” Jenny said loudly, earning cheers from around them.

Gracelyn just stayed silent as beers were passed around, Maddie just winking at her. This was it. This was her first college party. This was her first college beer. She was finally here. She’d made it. So she took a big swig, letting the cool cheap alcohol run down her throat, Maddie just whooping before doing the same with her own drink.

Time seemed to blur together after that. Not in a drunk way, but in a way that everything was so new, so overwhelming, that Gracelyn just let it wash over her. She was trying to follow Maddie’s lead, going with the flow as her New York roommate would say, so by the time she’d finished her third beer, Gracelyn was more than ready for a glass of water and a breather.

Thankfully, Maddie and Daisy had been roped into playing beer pong, which was outside on the back porch, so while the other girls grabbed more beer, Gracelyn grabbed a bottle of water and hopped up on the porch railing to watch. Despite Maddie being eagle-eyed, Daisy was swaying a bit, so this would be interesting.

“Hey, is this space taken?”

Gracelyn turned her head to the sound of the voice, not sure if it was being directed at her or not, only to come face to face with the cutest guy she’d ever seen. Tall – at least 6ft 4, if not 6ft 5 – with broad shoulders, messy dark hair and a sweet smile. Pretty eyes too. He was talking to her?

“Uh, no, go for it. I’m just watching my friends about to play,” she said, jerking her head in the beer pong table’s direction.

“Ah, yeah some of my teammates are about to face them. The blonde girl looks dangerous,” he mused, leaning against the railing himself in the space to her left.

“Oh you have no idea,” Gracelyn grinned, making him laugh.

Actual natural human interaction with a cute guy. Wow.

“I’m Jake,” he said, holding out his hand.

He immediately looked embarrassed at himself for holding out his hand, but the fact that he didn’t backtrack made her smile.

“I’m Gracelyn. Or Gracie, to my friends,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you Gracie,” he said, smiling.

Bold. She liked it.

“Not much of a drinker?” he asked.

She frowned until he shook his own cup and looked down at her water bottle, and immediately her cheeks flushed. Was he making fun of her?

“Um, I…”

She trailed off, before clearing her throat. No damn it, she was Gracelyn Davis of Boston now.

“I already had three cups of beer and I didn’t party back home, so I’m trying to pace myself. A little lame maybe but it’s literally first week of freshman year so…” she said, shrugging.

“I feel that,” the guy…Jake nodded, smiling still, “And it’s not lame. It’s my first week of freshman year too and I know that the freshmen will be clearing up tomorrow morning, so I don’t want to be horrendous after my first team party.”

He was a freshman too? Built like that? And he was a hockey player? Damn, what was he doing talking to her?

“Ouch, I’m sorry you have to clean up,” she said, grimacing as right-on-cue someone threw up over the porch railing a little ways down from them.

Jake grimaced himself, before shaking his head. “It’ll be worth it to play on the team.”

“Go Terriers?” she offered.

Jake just laughed, throwing his head back. Damn. Damn he looked so good.

“Alright boys, you’re going down!” Maddie said loudly.

The crowd cheered and whooped, Gracelyn and Jake included. Daisy took her first throw, immediately sinking the ball into a cup, clearly more sober than she looked. What a hustler - this was going to be a messy one. The freshman hockey player groaned but laughed, drinking the beer in the targeted cup down in one go, earning more cheers for himself.

“I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing more of each other, Gracie,” Jake said, smiling wide.

For some reason, she had a feeling that he was right.

~~~

May 2020.

Yeah, Jake was…Jake was different. Right from that first night, that first meeting, the two of them had stayed in touch, slowly becoming friends through texting as well as more hockey team parties. Maddie and their friends always dragged her along to any party at the hockey house, especially when Daisy started hooking up with the Unfortunate Sophomore, and the more she went to, the more she actually looked forward to them, mainly because at some point in the evening Jake would find her and the rest was history.

He wasn’t a rowdy dumbass like the other college players he lived with. Sure, she was cautious, a little introverted, always hesitant, but Jake was sweet and kind and patient, and never pushed her more than she was socially capable of in the moment. Maybe it helped that he was a goaltender – which she’d found out the second time she met him because someone dared him to show off his box splits and he did so without hesitation – because he was so different to all his friends, but she liked it.

She liked him.

He was a little more focused, more responsible maybe for his age, but still encouraged her to come out of her shell. Over those first few months, she found herself slipping out of her old social binds of Gracelyn Davis from Fayetteville and into her new self of Gracelyn Davis of Boston, and so much of it was because of him.

That’s why it hurt so much still, when everything changed.

There were so many memories of their friendship over the years, entwined with those memories of Gracelyn and her girlfriends, more than she dared to think about while she attempted to make a start on packing up her college life. She still had over a week left on campus, until after commencement weekend, but that didn’t mean she could put everything off until last minute. That just wasn’t the way her brain worked.

She could at least make a start on closing this chapter of her life.

But in the first shoebox she moved off of one of her shelves, she found a couple dozen polaroids, all ones she’d taken off being pinned on her noticeboard in Junior year – all ones of her and Jake. All photos of memories that made her heart ache all over again, flashing across her mind as she continued to look through them one by one.

~~~

November 2016.

“Hey, do you want to take a walk?”

Gracelyn looked up from her notebook, seeing Jake standing in the doorway of her dorm room.

“How did you get up here?” she asked, placing her pen and paper to the side with a smile.

“I bumped into Chanel and Luisa on the way through,” he shrugged, “They said you’ve been studying in here since your last class ended, and, uh, encouraged me to do something to change that.”

Yeah that sounded like Chanel and Luisa. Meddlers. Her friends weren’t wrong though – she really had been studying in her room since her last class ended, knowing that Maddie was still out in a class of her own and there was a movie night on campus later, so she wanted to get ahead of herself. It was only month three of freshman year after all – she couldn’t afford to get behind yet.

Still…a small break couldn’t hurt right?

“You want to go for a walk?” she mused.

“Yeah, it’s not snowing out so I thought it might be nice?” he said, smiling shyly.

Oh what a sweetheart. In what world would she say no to that?

“And you’re asking little old me?” she grinned, kicking off her slippers.

“You’re one of my best friends Gracie, you know that. And you’re definitely the only sane one,” he said, shrugging with a smile.

Well that much was true.

“I’m in,” she laughed.

It didn’t take her long to slip into more appropriate boots for the weather, as well as a thick coat, knitted hat and gloves to help out with the cold, and soon enough the two of them were walking out of campus along the Charles River.

“So what’s really going on?” Gracelyn asked, when the crowds around them had thinned out to only a couple of people.

Jake opened his mouth to protest, before closing it again with a huffed laugh. “You can read me that easily, huh?”

“You’ve got a pretty expressive face,” she shrugged, although made sure to smile so he knew she didn’t mean it as a bad thing, “And you’ve never wanted to just go on a walk before. Not that I mind, obviously – it’s always good to get fresh air and you know I like hanging out with you – I just hope that nothing bad has happened?”

He quickly shook his head but then grimaced, wiggling his hand to indicate it was something so-so. Hm. This was going to take more than their usual casual talking, she could tell.

“Do you want to grab a coffee and find somewhere to sit?” she suggested.

“Sure.”

It didn’t take long to pick up a couple of lattes each, and even less time to find an isolated snow-free stone bench to sit on, not far from the Hatch Shell, and by that point Jake looked a little less tense.

“Thank you, Gracie,” he murmured.

“For what?” she asked, confused, “we haven’t even started talking properly yet.”

“You’re giving me the chance to get something off my chest that I haven’t been able to bring up to anyone else. Or that I feel I can bring up to anyone else. I appreciate it, that’s all,” Jake shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.

“Well now I’m worried,” she said, trying to make it a joke to hide her true concern.

What was wrong with him? Was he sick? He couldn’t be failing any classes, right?

She waited in silence for him to gather his thoughts, taking in the sight of the river slowly flowing by, until Jake finally cleared his throat.

“There’s been scouts coming to hockey games. NHL scouts, for me, following on from my time in the NTDP,” he said softly.

“Okay. Okay, that’s a good thing, right?” she said, frowning slightly.

She may not know much about ice hockey or the NHL or the NTDP, but she did know how important it all was to Jake. So what was the issue?

“I guess? But…it’s also so much pressure.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh bless his heart.

“I can understand that. That does sound like a lot of pressure. What exactly is worrying you about it?” she asked.

The more she understood, the more she could help, right?

Jake let out a shaky breath, looking down at his hands for a moment, before lifting his head to look out over the river in front of them.

“I’m nervous. Playing in the NHL…it’s all I’ve ever wanted. And it’s so hard to even be considered as a goaltender in the big leagues so the fact that they’re looking at me? Assessing me? It’s a lot,” he explained, voice quiet, “And it’s not like I can even talk to the rest of the team about how nervous it makes me either.”

Because so many of the guys won’t get a shot in the NHL like the scouts are considering for him.

Oh this sweet hearted boy.

What really made her sad though was the look of hesitance tainted with self-deprecation in his eyes. He didn’t deserve to look or feel like that, not ever.

“Hey, Jake, will you look at me?” Gracelyn asked.

It took a couple of seconds but he eventually did, emotion splashed all over his face.

“I know it’s scary. And I know it makes you nervous. This is your dream, and you’re pouring your whole self into it. But, Jake, these scouts wouldn’t be coming if you weren’t already proving how good you were, right?”

“I mean…”

He trailed off, wiggling his hand so-so again, making her shake her head.

“I mean it, Jake. If there wasn’t something in your gameplay that they liked, they wouldn’t be coming to see you. Just show them what you’ve got. You don’t have to be anyone other than yourself, okay? You’re Jake Oettinger, badass Terrier and incredible goaltender, and there’s nothing you can’t do,” she said firmly.

Jake choked out a laugh, hanging his head briefly before looking back at her. She chose to ignore the way his eyes were shining slightly.

“How do you always know exactly what to say?” he murmured.

Gracelyn just smiled, a light blush dusting her cheeks. “Well I don’t know about that…but I’m always here for you, whenever you need me.”

“So all I need to do to get your undivided attention is to text you, meet you at our spot?” he grinned.

Her blush deepened, traitorous butterflies filling her stomach.

“This is our spot?” she said, voice far breathier than she cared to admit.

“It is now,” he shrugged, “just you and me.”

Well damn, she liked the sound of that. Did he even know how that came across? What it implied?

“Alright, deal,” she nodded, trying to keep her cool.

“Besides, I can’t have you sharing your wisdom with everyone, right? Gotta keep some of that good magic all for myself. God knows I need all the help I can get. You don’t mind, right?” he grinned.

She couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from her chest, her head tilting back as it rang out loud and clear. His teasing request was more than a little shameless – with anyone else she would’ve been put off by the audacity, but with Jake? It was just charming, endearing her to him more than ever. When she’d finally composed herself, Jake had a slightly stunned look on his face – probably from the vivacity of her laughter – so she just smiled widely at him. How could she not?

“You truly are one of a kind, Jake Oettinger,” she giggled, finishing the last of her coffee.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he said, giving a little shrug as he grinned.

Like she could ever insult him.

“We should take a photo,” Jake said suddenly, digging in his coat pocket.

“What?”

“To keep this memory, of finding ‘our’ place. Of you giving me the advice I needed. Of me making you laugh like that for the first time,” Jake explained, making her smile at his enthusiastic listing, “one of the guys bought a bunch of cheap polaroid cameras at the weekend and I still have one in my pocket.”

“Well in that case…” she teased.

Jake just laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder, guiding her to lean into his body. Gracelyn just tilted her knitted hat-covered head to rest against his and threw up a peace sign, smiling widely as Jake raised the camera in his hand. FLASH. She blinked a couple of times, listening to the camera whirring, but smiled softly to herself as Jake kept his arm around her. She appreciated the warmth from his body, if nothing else. With his free hand, he dropped the camera in his lap and pulled free the developing polaroid, shaking it a few times until the picture started to become clearer.

“Oh yeah, that’s a good one,” Jake said happily, handing it over for her to see.

Gracelyn felt her breath hitch in her chest as she looked at their photo. Their matching wide smiles alone showed her exactly how happy he’d been in that moment, but the fact that it was with her? That was everything. She didn’t even know what to say.

“I love it,” she eventually managed to murmur.

“Then it’s all yours,” Jake said simply.

“What? No, it’s your camera,” she said, shaking her head.

But Jake just squeezed her shoulder, nudging her with his chest. “I insist. We’ll have years yet to take more photos together.”

She could only hope. Gracelyn just nodded silently, sliding the photo into her pocket with a grateful smile, leaning back into his chest as he put the camera back into his pocket without moving his arm from round her shoulders still. As her heart started beating all that little bit faster, she knew she was in trouble. She may not be particularly experienced in the nature of romance, but she knew from friends, old and new, what it was like to get a crush on someone.

How could she not start falling for him in this exact moment?

Gracelyn had always promised herself to keep her guard up, especially around her heart. Her parents’ relationship was toxic enough, their marriage fuelled by arguments and spite and cold disdain, and she’d always sworn to herself that she would never end up like them. There was a reason why she had no intention of going back home for Thanksgiving or the Christmas break. But being here with Jake right now? Tucked under his arm with him holding her against his chest after all those sweet words? It was dangerous, for her emotions and her resolve.

If she didn’t get this under control soon, there was no telling the damage this crush could do.

~~~

June 2017.

Gracelyn had been dreading June 23rd ever since she learned how significant the day was. Significant to Jake, anyway. Today was the first day of the 2017 NHL draft, and she already knew that Jake was predicted to go decently high in the first round – Gracelyn Davis of Fayetteville hadn’t a clue about any of this but Gracelyn Davis of Boston now knew all too much – so she could only imagine how stressed he was today already. Over the rest of freshman year, she’d gotten more and more into watching hockey, mainly because of Jake asking her to come to games as his ‘good luck charm’, so she knew that scouts had been following him for quite some time still. Spending so much time with him this year – including studying, brunches, parties, and campus events, on top of all the games she’d gone to – hadn’t lessened her crush in the slightest, but things were definitely much more manageable. She knew what she could and couldn’t handle, and it helped that she knew Jake had no idea how she felt either, so their friendship had only gone from strength to strength.

Today could change everything. She didn’t know if she was ready for that.

While Jake and his family were in Chicago ready for the draft day, Gracelyn was at her summer job – administration at the West Virginia Science Adventures summer day camps, right there in Fayetteville. She worked 9-4 every day, helping to make sure that everything ran smoothly, and it meant that she was out of her house essentially all day, which could only ever be a good thing. That, and it also allowed her to surreptitiously listen to the broadcast of Jake’s draft day while she was typing up the stock request forms that her supervisor needed from her.

She took her time typing, making sure everything was meticulous while she listened to the draft picks start getting called.

And then came the 26th pick, from the Dallas Stars.

“From Boston University, Jake Oettinger.”

There it was. He’d done it! The first goalie of the 2017 draft was picked, and it was him! She couldn’t stop the happy squeal that left her lips, glad that no-one else was in the office cabin right now, especially since she couldn’t help the stupid smile on her face or the tears in her eyes.

Jake had been drafted to the NHL, just as he’d always dreamed. It was everything he’d ever wanted, and he deserved it so much, and even though she knew it meant he was leaving her behind, how could she not be proud of him?

To: Jake From: Gracelyn You did it! Congratulations! I’m so proud of you! I told you that everything would pay off! I know you’re busy so don’t worry about texting back. But just know that I am so so happy for you, okay? Speak to you later ❤️

With a breathy laugh, she put her phone down, exiting out of her messages and turning off the broadcast. She didn’t care what else happened in the draft – she only cared about Jake. Now that was done, she could get on with her job without feeling guilty, even if the buzzing in her veins kept that smile on her face for the rest of her day.

It wasn’t until Gracelyn was home that she got a message back from Jake, after she’d cooked and eaten dinner by herself and was relaxing with a book in her bedroom.

To: Gracelyn From: Jake Thank you so much Gracie. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling. This is crazy. I actually got drafted. The Stars drafted me! I’m still committing to BU, for more development, but I can’t believe they want me!

Gracelyn frowned slightly at the reply from Jake, confused. He wasn’t going straight to Dallas? He was staying in Boston? Why?

To: Jake From: Gracelyn I thought you wanted to jump right into the NHL? That’s the dream right? Don’t get me wrong, I will miss you. But this is your dream?

Gracelyn chewed her bottom lip while she waited for him to reply, rereading over the same few pages until her phone buzzed a few more times. She felt so stupid for the way her heart was beating like crazy…but this was important. This was Jake.

To: Gracelyn From: Jake Oh you’re not getting rid of me that easily, Gracie Davis. This is definitely the right thing for me right now, and I know the Stars will understand. Boston is still where I need to be right now, so you’ll see me in September! ❤️

Well if that was what he wanted, she wasn’t going to complain. Still, it would only be a matter of time before Jake took his dream in both hands and leapt for it, so she would have to make the most of the time she had with him. That was all she could hope for, right?

~~~

September 2017.

“See, I told you I’d come back.”

Gracelyn jumped at the familiar deep voice, her friends just cackling at her reaction to Jake silently creeping up behind her, but she found herself smiling at him as she turned around to face him properly.

“One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack with this sneaking up behind me,” she mused, hands on hips.

“Well we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Jake grinned.

With that, he slung his arm around her shoulder, tugging her into a hug which she returned happily, hiding her blushing face in his chest slightly before pulling away. Jake didn’t drop his arm from over her shoulders though, making Maddie smirk at her, and Gracelyn could only be grateful that Jake seemed not to notice.

“Alright superstar, let’s get some food,” Gracelyn said, sighing dramatically.

“I missed you too, Gracelyn Davis,” Jake laughed.

I missed you more, Jake Oettinger.

“WELCOME BACK PARTY AT THE HOCKEY HOUSE!”

The crowd around them whooped, Luisa and Daisy looking particularly happy about the potential frivolity, whereas Gracelyn just smiled at the interruption.

“You and Maddie are still rooming together this year, right?” Jake murmured, leaning down so only she could hear him among the ruckus.

He remembered them talking about that?

It was true though – Gracelyn and all her friends had decided to move out of freshman dorms and get neighbouring apartments in the dorm buildings available for Sophomore students. Maddie and Gracelyn had decided to stay sharing a dorm, whereas Luisa and Daisy were roommates now, as were Chanel and Jenny. It was an arrangement that worked perfectly for them, and she couldn’t wait to actually have all of her friends living together.

“Yeah we are, why?” she said softly in return.

“Well I know that you’ll definitely be coming to the party if your girls are there to persuade you,” Jake teased.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I would’ve come anyway.”

“You would?” Jake asked, surprised.

There were so many things she could’ve said in that moment, both innocent and incriminating, but in the end she chose just to shrug. It was the safest option.

“Food! Let’s go!” Maddie said cheerfully.

As her roommate linked their arms together, Jake’s arm slipped off her shoulders, making Gracelyn look up at him properly. “Are you coming, Jake?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, nodding quickly.

After eating lunch and hanging out for a few hours, Jake and some of his lingering friends went back to the team house to set up for the party, leaving Gracelyn and her friends to get ready. Just like freshman year, their first party of Sophomore year was going to be at the hockey house, so they spent their time getting all dressed up in pretty eye-catching dresses (with a little pregaming, thanks to the stock they’d all brought along from home), and by the time they arrived at the hockey team house the party was in full swing.

Gracelyn spotted Jake easily, and he waved enthusiastically at her from across the room, making her friends laugh and pull her into the kitchen to get drinks of their own. Over the next few hours, Gracelyn and her friends alternated between drinking in the kitchen and dancing on the make-shift living room dancefloor, celebrating the return to college and the start of the new school year. It was everything she’d missed about Boston, having fun with her friends, finally feeling like she was back where she belonged.

Soon enough though, Gracelyn needed to make a trip to the bathroom, leaving her friends where they were in the kitchen and heading upstairs to the nicer of the bathrooms that Jake had always let her use. But on her return trip downstairs, her path was blocked in the front corridor, by a guy she didn’t recognise. He was taller than her, bigger than her, and much drunker than her – she could smell the beer on his breath from a few feet away but even more so as he stepped even closer.

“Well hello. I haven’t seen you around before,” he drawled.

What the hell?

“I’m a sophomore. I’m not new,” she frowned, confused.

“Shh, sweetheart, don’t talk so much. Why don’t we get to know each other a little better, hm? That ass of yours? Damn.”

What the actual fuck.

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not interested,” Gracie said shortly.

“Don’t be like that baby, I’m a real nice guy,” he grinned.

The sleaze dripped off of his words like oil, making her recoil, but it was as she moved to step around him that he grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Fuck. Oh fuck.

“Let’s try again, hm?”

“No,” she said shakily.

“No-one says no to me. You should be nicer to guys that show you interest, you know.”

Gracelyn just froze in place, mind blank and body stiff. This had never happened before, being confronted like this, and it didn’t matter how much advice she’d been given over the years, it all had flown away in the moment.

She took a deep breath, ready to yell out for help, when a familiar large body appeared by her side. Jake. She felt like crying in relief, even more so as her friend easily knocked the drunk guy’s hand off her arm.

“She’s not interested. Move on, bud,” Jake said firmly, stepping up close, making the guy look up at him with a glare.

“Back off man, I was here first,” the creep slurred.

What the actual fuck. She wasn’t prize cattle at an auction.

“I said no,” Gracelyn repeated.

With her desperate glance up at him, Jake clenched his jaw and his fists, drawing himself up to his full height as he pushed himself between Gracelyn and the creep.

“Last chance. Fuck off,” Jake said angrily.

It was all she could do to clutch at the back of his tshirt, hands shaking and heart racing.

“Whatever man, she’s ugly anyway,” the guy scowled.

She inhaled sharply as a pang of hurt ran through her chest, only to gasp out louder as Jake lurched forward, pinning the guy to the opposite wall with his forearm across his throat.

“Apologise, asshole. You’re not worth the air she breathes,” Jake all but growled.

The creep choked a little, trying to get Jake’s arm off him, and it was only then that Gracelyn noticed the crowd that was starting to form around them.

“Hey, Jake, he isn’t worth it. Don’t get in trouble because of this scumbag,” she pleaded, resting her hand on his shoulder.

Jake looked down at her with pursed lips, waited a beat or two, before nodding. She let out a shaky breath as Jake shoved the guy into the wall one last time before stepping backwards, still standing himself in front of her.

“Stay away from her, you hear me?” Jake demanded.

“Whatever freak,” the guy muttered, storming off.

Jake’s frame tensed but Gracelyn just reached for his forearm, desperate for Jake not to follow after him. The last thing she wanted was for her friend to get into a fight because of her. The creep wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth it.

“What was that all about?”

Jake turned around to see his captain frowning behind them as the crowd dispersed, and scowled again.

“That guy wouldn’t leave Gracie alone when she told him no. Was making her uncomfortable, a real fucking creep,” Jake muttered, clenching his hands for a moment again.

“Oh shit, for real? Damn, Gracelyn, sorry about that. I’ll make sure he’s kicked out,” Jake’s captain frowned.

What?

But before she could voice her confusion, the Senior walked off, leaving Gracelyn and Jake alone.

“He’s got a no tolerance policy for sexual harassment,” Jake murmured.

Well…that explained a few things. But still…

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“I think so? I just…I froze. Everything about that guy screamed at me to run away and all I could do was freeze,” she sighed, running a shaky hand through her hair, “I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay. So not stupid at all. I hate that you ever experienced this at all, you know? You should never…”

She could see his anger rising again and did the only thing she could think of. She quickly wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug, burying her face in his shirt, just letting herself breathe and willing him to calm his anger back down. Jake froze briefly in surprise before quickly hugging her back, clutching at her firmer than she’d anticipated.

“Thank you, Jake. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there,” she murmured.

Jake stiffened at her words before nodding, squeezing her body before letting go to look down at her properly.

“I’m glad we never have to find out what could’ve happened. I’m pretty sure you would’ve snapped and decked him, Gracie Davis, just as he deserved, but I’m glad I could at least help,” Jake said firmly.

She laughed softly but shrugged. “You did more than help. Superstar and knight in shining armour? I’m glad you’re in my life hey?”

Jake huffed out a laugh and slung his arm over her shoulder as usual, guiding them both into the kitchen towards the beer keg.

“I told you you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I meant it,” he said, smiling sweetly down at her, “So let’s get back to the party as it should be, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I think Maddie’s about to kick some ass in beer pong if you wanted to watch?” she mused.

“Just like when we met a year ago. Perfect,” Jake grinned.

~~~

March 2019.

Jake didn’t leave for Texas in Sophomore year. Didn’t sign an entry level contact, didn’t leave Boston, didn’t leave the Terriers. Didn’t leave Gracelyn. All throughout the school year, they only got closer and closer, somehow spending even more time together than they did previously – any time that Gracelyn wasn’t with her friends or studying (and even then, sometimes she was studying with Jake), the two of them could usually be found together. It seemed like the welcome back party of Sophomore year triggered something protective in Jake, and he always made sure that she was okay wherever they went, even to the point of scaring off guys regardless of whether they were being creeps or not. Her friends – especially Maddie – called Jake a cockblock, but it wasn’t like Gracelyn protested at all. Her crush on Jake hadn't lessened at all, so why would she be interested in other guys? Especially if Jake wanted to be by her side.

He was always her partner in study groups, in beer pong, in video games, and he always sat next to her when they went out for food, to the movies, to campus events. She was even pretty sure that some of the freshmen on his team thought they were actually dating, considering how often they asked her where he was if they couldn’t find him.

As she said, she wasn’t going to complain. She had Jake in her life in ways that she never could’ve hoped for – and the longer he didn’t leave Boston to sign a contract with the Stars, the more her confidence built, waiting for a moment when she felt sure enough to actually tell him how she felt. It was a lofty goal, but each day that passed, she got a little closer.

When Jake was named an alternate captain prior to the 2018-2019 season, her hope soared.

Throughout the start of Junior year, Jake’s responsibilities to the team kept him longer at practices, longer in team meetings, but that didn’t mean he didn’t put in the extra effort with Gracelyn still, even going as far as to stay behind in Boston with her for Thanksgiving to spend that time together that they hadn’t really been able to. Her friends all thought she was nuts for not just confessing, but she was still too scared. So scared to lose him, the most important relationship in her life, the most important friendship, so she continued to stay silent, just grateful for whatever time that her friendship with Jake could afford her.

She knew that he appreciated her – he always made sure she knew it – and she knew that she wouldn’t trade what they had right now for anything, unless she knew for sure that it wasn’t going to all blow up in her face.

She had to know, before she took that risk.

Before Gracelyn knew it, it was the beginning of March, with Spring Break coming up right around the corner. Maddie was out to lunch with her boyfriend Jackson (business major – a little dry, but adored her friend), so Gracelyn was finishing off a paper in her room alone, having spent some time with her other girlfriends that morning over coffee. She was just finishing off her last editing readthrough when her dorm door was knocked on, in a familiar pattern that made her smile.

“Come in Jake! The door’s unlocked!”

Gracelyn hit save on the word document before closing her laptop, Jake walking into the room quickly. The serious look on his face made her heart clench a little, even more so as he sat down next to her on the bed in silence.

“Hey Gracie, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Of course not. What’s up?” she asked, worried.

“I just…I wanted to tell you before I told anyone else. Well, other than coach, but yeah.”

She knew it.

She knew it.

She knew it.

“Tell me what?” she asked as lightly as she could, feigning ignorance as he sat down beside her.

“I signed a three-year entry level contact with the Stars last weekend. And I’m heading to Texas to play in the AHL in a few days time.”

She was too late.

She was too late.

She was too late.

“Oh Jake that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! But it’s happening quick, no?”

Jake huffed out a laugh, nodding as he smiled weakly at her. “It happened a lot faster than I thought. But my agent said this is the best option for me, to start my hockey career off. I’ve got to follow my dream, you know?”

Even if it meant leaving her behind. She’d been prepared for this for a long time. That didn’t make it hurt any less. But this wasn’t about her – this was about him, and everything he’d worked for, and everything he still had to work for in the future.

“Of course you do, Jake. Anyone that tells you differently is an ass. Follow your dreams and don’t look back, hey?”

It was only then that he noticed the tears in her eyes and quickly shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Gracie Davis. You’re one of my best friends, and I’m not losing you. I can’t.”

She choked out a wet noise, half laugh half sob, and just shook her head.

“You go and be the superstar that you are destined to be, okay?” she said, smiling sadly at him, “The rest of us will figure out the rest.”

Jake pulled her into the tightest hug he ever had done, burying his face in her dark hair.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life.”

Gracelyn just stayed silent, letting her tears fall.

~~~

May 2020.

She never did tell him how she felt. He never did find out how much she loved him. Maybe it was for the best, when their texts slowed over the summer of 2019, because by the time Gracelyn had started up her final year of college in the September of 2019, she’d hardened up her heart enough to make it through the year without him.

She hadn’t realised how much of Boston she associated with Jake until he was gone.

The pizza place where she and her girlfriends would meet up with the hockey team after a winning game. The coffee cart they always picked up a coffee to go before lectures or study sessions or hangouts on the quad. The amazing smoothie bar that didn’t actually overcharge students and gave decent portion sizes. The little independent cinema that always smelled like burnt popcorn and only ever had two films running at one time. The Terriers ice hockey games in general. Even the yoga classes where Jake would maintain – and show off – his flexibility had become a no-go for her, which felt ridiculous the more she thought about it.

Gracelyn particularly avoided ‘their spot’ near the Hatch Shell along the Charles River, the place they’d gone to at least once a week for nearly two and a half years, unable to get all of the time spent relaxing there together out of her head, the time they would just sit and watch the world go by.

Two and a half years of friendship, gone with the wind – and she never expected to see him again. How was she supposed to cope with that?

She knew all of her friends worried about her, hated how she retreated into her shell throughout the whole of Senior year. Gracelyn did try to keep up her life as it had been before, going to parties like she used to, hockey games with her friends, but after a particularly awkward party at the hockey house in November, Gracelyn was done.

After a mild intervention before the winter break with Maddie, Luisa, Jenny, Chanel, and Daisy, following a couple of weeks of complete hermit behaviour, Gracelyn made a compromise – she would no longer go to parties or have anything to do with the hockey team, but would still go to everything else. She just couldn’t – she and Jake had always found their way together, talking off to the side away from the chaos of that side of her old social life, and for all the parties she’d attempted to go to in September to November, she’d struggled more than she’d expected – so that was her bottom line, it had to be a big no.

So life went on – Gracelyn went to all the fun campus events she used to, still went out for lunches and dinners and girls nights and all the things she’d always done with hers friends, but for her own sanity she had to stop the major things that she associated with Jake. It was the only way she was going to get through her Senior year, the only way she was going to get through her heartbreak that wasn’t even really heartbreak.

At least studying for her final papers, her final exams, gave her all the genuine excuses she needed not have that social side of herself any more anyway.

When it came to finishing off her final week of exams in May, Gracelyn was drained. She pushed herself to her limits, maybe even further than she should’ve done, andby the time she stumbled back to her dorm after her final exam, it was all she could do to collapse onto her bed into a much-needed nap.

It wasn’t until hours later that a gentle hand shook her awake, the smell of Thai food filling nose.

“Wakey wakey sleeping beauty, I’ve brought dinner,” Maddie grinned.

Gracelyn blearily opened her eyes, sitting upright with more difficulty than she expected, accepting the offered food with a thankful groan that just made her friend laugh. The two of them ate quietly, the open window giving them the ambience of campus, and Gracelyn found herself smiling as she relaxed for what felt like the first time in ages.

“You’ve finished your final exam now, right?”

Gracelyn just nodded, smiling through the noodles in her mouth, making Maddie laugh. She knew that her roommate had finished two days ago, seeing as Gracelyn’s exams were some of the last of all the Seniors.

“So…there’s a hockey house party tonight…”

Gracelyn stopped chewing, narrowing her eyes, to which Maddie just laughed and held her hands up in surrender.

“I know you haven’t been to parties all year. Not since…he left. But this is our last big blow-out, you know? And you shouldn’t let a dumb boy ruin the last big college party, right?”

Gracelyn huffed out a breath, setting her food down to the side, just running a hand through her dishevelled hair. Parties just hadn’t been the same since Jake left in Junior year, especially not ones at the hockey house – she’d stopped going to them for a reason.

But maybe Maddie was right. Jake wasn’t here. He’d left. She was still here and she was graduating and she shouldn’t let herself feel so sour when she’d worked so hard. Fuck it. This was her last week of college – she wasn’t going to hold herself back any more.

“I’m going to need to shower. And shave my legs. And I have no idea what to wear,” Gracelyn eventually said.

Maddie just squealed, clapping her hands together.

“Go and shower now. Shave everything. Leave the outfit to me and the girls. Tonight is going to be the best night ever, okay?” Maddie said happily, whipping out her phone, no doubt to text their friends of the plans.

“Can I at least finish my food first?”

Maddie just laughed, not even looking up from where she was typing.

So Gracelyn took a shower, shaved, primped, and dressed up in clothes she hadn’t worn in months. The girls all rallied around her while they got ready too, all chipping in with her hair and make-up, making her heart clench in gratitude for her incredible friends and their love. The evening, the party, was going to be the best, just as Maddie had promised. She could feel it in her bones.

She knew that a few of her former social crowd glanced at her in surprise as their group walked through the hockey house, but Maddie didn’t give her a chance to get self-conscious in the grey bodycon dress, pressing a shot of vodka and a beer into her hands with a big smile.

“We’re graduating, motherfuckers!”

Jenny’s whoop raised a loud cheer in the kitchen, more shots being passed around quickly, and it allowed Gracelyn to relax a little in the familiar atmosphere, almost like nothing had changed at all. The whole evening passed in a blur of dancing and drinking and laughter and beer pong, Gracelyn sinking into the support of her girlfriends to let loose, finally shaking off all the tension and stress of the past few weeks of exams. Of the past year, if she was being honest.

It wasn’t until after 1am that the group separated out a little bit, Daisy and Gracelyn on the makeshift dancefloor with the other scattered through the kitchen, bathroom and outside. The two of them sang along to the upbeat Megan Thee Stallion song, dancing free and wild, until a cute guy shyly approached Daisy, dancing with her briefly before whispering in her ear and making Daisy giggle. Then her friend looked over to her, and Gracelyn knew exactly what she was silently asking.

“Go! Go make-out!” Gracelyn grinned, shooing Daisy away teasingly.

Her friend just giggled and smiled her thanks, slinking off deeper into the crowd with the cute guy, making her smile. Why shouldn’t her friend have a little fun, hey?

Gracelyn moved out to the edge of the dancefloor and glanced around the room, trying to spot Maddie or Luisa or Chanel or Jenny, but the person her eyes landed on instead made her audibly gasp. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t here. How could he be here?

What the hell. What was he doing here? Why was he back in Boston, after all this time? Why was he here right now at the same party was her?

Was she dreaming?

Then Jake turned his head and spotted her too, smiling widely.

No this was definitely a nightmare. Gracelyn couldn’t move as he walked over towards her, and it was all she could do to force a smile on her face as he stopped in front of her, towering over her as he always had.

“Hey Gracie. It’s been a while.”

Yeah no shit.

His sweet smile and gentle voice still sent shivers down her spine though.

“What are you doing here?” she asked coolly.

“I wanted to surprise everyone. I know I couldn’t finish off my degree here but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see everyone graduate.”

Wanted to surprise everyone? See everyone graduate?

Was he even going to tell her he was there?

Obviously not.

“Well it was nice to see you, Jake. Good luck next season,” she said, smiling politely.

The confused expression on his face, paired with his flinch at her tone of voice, almost made her defensive walls crumble down – but she’d made that mistake before, letting her guard down around him. Three years she spent letting him slowly take over her heart, and she knew that if she let him in one last time that she’d never recover. She just couldn’t handle it again.

“Gracie, wait,” he murmured, reaching out towards her.

Hearing her nickname fall from his lips was almost enough to stop her, but she stepped back ever so slightly out of his grasp, enough that his confusion turned to hurt.

“Goodbye, Jake,” she said softly.

And with that, she made herself walk off, heading straight for the kitchen, hoping to find someone, anyone, because by the time she’d steadied her breathing through the house, she was done. She was so done, with the hockey house, with the party, with the whole night. It was all she could do to force a smile on her face when she found a few of her friends in the kitchen – Maddie, Chanel, and Luisa – Maddie’s eyes immediately narrowing at her expression.

“Hey, I’m exhausted, it’s been such a long day. I’m going to head back to the dorms,” Gracelyn announced.

It was just past 2am now, so it wasn’t like she was being a killjoy. Chanel and Luisa booed teasingly, making her huff out a laugh, whereas Maddie just smiled sadly. Her best friend always knew how to read her mind.

“Do you want company on the walk back?” Maddie offered.

“No, no, it’s okay, please stay and enjoy the last hockey house party. The fresh air will do me good. Thank you though,” Gracelyn said, shaking her head.

She would always be grateful for Maddie.

“Brunch tomorrow, yes?” Chanel said, smiling as she pointed a taloned-fingernail faux-threateningly.

“Of course!” Gracelyn laughed, making the rest of the girls laugh too. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

With a round of hugs and the promise to text when she arrived back at the dorm, Gracelyn left the hockey house for the last time. She hated that tears were stinging at her eyes, closing yet another metaphorical and physical door, so she wasted no time in just starting to walk away, letting her feet guide her. By the time she’d managed to compose herself, she realised she’d somehow walked out to the Charles River, all the way down to her old spot with Jake near the Hatch Shell, and she just felt like crying for real this time.

Why here? Why now? Why did this have to be the ending of her college years?

She managed to blink the tears back as she sat down on their usual…old stone bench, just in time to hear footsteps coming towards her. Her heart clenched in her chest as she snapped her head in that direction, only to see Jake jogging towards her, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wild.

“Gracie! I was looking everywhere in the house for you. But when Maddie told me you left, I knew you’d end up here,” he said, breathless but relieved.

Maddie told him? That meddler. Gracelyn felt a lump rise in her throat at his words though. What did that even mean? What was he doing? Why did he even care?

“What do you want?” she asked, frowning.

 “I wanted to see you. Wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t leave Boston again without talking to you. It’s kind of perfect that it’s by our old spot – I can’t get the memories of this place out of my head.”

~

November 2016.

“We should take a photo,” Jake said suddenly, digging in his coat pocket.

“What?”

“To keep this memory, of finding ‘our’ place. Of you giving me the advice I needed. Of me making you laugh like that for the first time,” Jake explained, making her smile at his enthusiastic listing, “one of the guys bought a bunch of cheap polaroid cameras at the weekend and I still have one in my pocket.”

“Well in that case…” she teased.

Jake just laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder, guiding her to lean into his body. Gracelyn just tilted her knitted hat-covered head to rest against his and threw up a peace sign, smiling widely as Jake raised the camera in his hand.

~

“Oh, well if you want to talk now, then go ahead!” Gracelyn said sharply.

Jake flinched again at her harsh tone of voice, looking even more confused than before.

“Why…what do you mean?”

“I haven’t heard from you in over a year. You stopped replying to my texts, you hurt me. But it’s all good now that you’ve shown up again and declared you want to talk, right? So go ahead. Talk. Tell me why you think you can just reappear in my life after leaving me alone,” Gracelyn said angrily.

The moment that the ranting words left her lips, she regretted them, even more so at the upset look on Jake’s face. Here it was, what she’d always feared would happen. She wished she could use the beer and shots as an excuse but she knew they were barely a factor after all of the dancing. She’d pushed too far this time. He was actually going to say goodbye for good. And why wouldn’t he? That’s what everyone else important in her life had always done.

Braced myself for the goodbye, 'Cause that's all I've ever known.

“I’ll never leave you alone again.”

His sudden words broke her out of her swirling thoughts.

“What?”

“I should never have left you behind, not without telling you how I feel about you.”

What the hell.

“Jake…”

“I have been such an idiot, Gracie. Such a coward. I remember how it felt sitting by the water here with you, letting the world pass by like nothing else mattered, like it was just you and me in our own little world. That first time we were here? I made you laugh, and your laugh was the best thing I’d ever heard. The smile you sent me after you’d stopped laughing made my heart beat like crazy. I wanted to kiss you right then and there, but I chickened out. Every time I looked at you after that, it was like the first time all over again. I don’t know when it happened, probably moments after I met you, but I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I wanted to tell you so many times. I should’ve told you, but I was so scared to ruin everything. Turns out me not saying anything ruined us anyway.”

His words washed over her like a wave, overwhelming in their honesty and emotion, and the more he spoke, the more Gracelyn felt like crying. This was how he felt about her? After all this time?

He was in love with her too?

He wasn’t saying goodbye?

“You loved me?” she managed to whisper.

Jake swallowed heavily but nodded, eyes starting to fill with hope. “Love. Present tense. I still love you, and I am so sorry for being too much of a coward to tell you last year. Am I too late?”

“Too late?” she asked, confused.

“Too late to have a chance with you?”

Oh.

Oh.

“Jake, I…I don’t even know what to say. I’ve spent this whole last year trying to repair myself after you left with barely a goodbye, and now you just…you want to give us a chance? Just like that?”

The guilt that washed over Jake’s face sent a pang through her body, but she stayed silent, waiting for him to speak. She needed to know. He needed to tell her.

“I know you’ve guarded your heart. I know it’s for good reasons. But we’re not going to make your parents mistakes, Gracie. I never want to go a day without telling you how much I love you. I don’t want to spend another day apart. I don’t know where I’ll be next season – I might start down in the AHL but it’s likely I’ll be called up again. But I’ve got to know…will you come with me?”

“To Texas? You want me to move in with you in Texas?”

Her mind was swirling, even more overwhelmed, her emotions choking up her throat as her jaw dropped slightly. That was the last thing she was expecting. Was this too sudden? Was she holding back for no reason?

“Shit, I shouldn’t be asking you that at 2.30am. I’m so sorry, so stupid,” Jake groaned, running his hands through his hair.

“You’re not stupid,” she said quickly, gently pulling his hands back down, “I just…it’s a lot? Let me think about it?”

“Of course. Whatever you need, I…”

He trailed off, an old familiar look of hesitance and self-deprecation in his eyes, enough to make her heart pang. Enough to make up her mind, at least a little bit.

“I love you too, Jake,” she murmured, smiling slightly as his breath caught in his throat, “I’ve loved you for longer than I care to admit. I was trying to build up my confidence to tell you but then it was too late, you know? When you left, and slowly stopped messaging me, it broke my heart. I know you were busy working your ass off in Texas and I am so proud of you for chasing your dreams…but it still hurt so much. I spent all of this last year essentially back in the way that you first met me, introverted and quiet – tonight was the first party I’d been to since November. But I still love you. I don’t think I could ever stop.”

As she spoke, she watched his face shift from happy to sad to devastated to hopeful. She’d missed how expressive he was, especially around her, especially because of her, even if it was terrifying to share all of her thoughts and feelings with him. Things she’d never said to anyone, not even her closest friends. But here she was, confessing everything, hoping that the tears slowly trickling down her face were the only ones she’d cry over him again.

Jake stayed silent for a moment, raising a hand to wipe away her tears, letting his hand cup her face briefly, just long enough for the warmth to seep through his skin to hers before he dropped his hand again.

“I’ll never be able to make up for making you feel like this for so long, I know that. But I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to start over, to finally start us as we should’ve always been. To show you how much I love you.”

It was everything she’d ever hoped to hear, over the three years they spent as friends and the past year alone. Was it enough? Could she trust him? Could she trust herself?

“I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life, Jake. I know I’m not moving back home, but other than that? I don’t have any job or career lined up yet. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life after brunch tomorrow with the girls. But maybe you can walk me home tonight…and we can talk tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can do that. I’d love that,” Jake said quickly, eagerly, “Maybe I could stay until after commencement weekend? There’s literally nowhere else I’d rather be.”

There’s literally nowhere else she’d want him to be either.

So she huffed out a laugh, nodding, heart starting to beat that little bit faster as he took one of her hands in his, threading their fingers together. She stayed silent as he stood up, hands staying linked as she stood up too, Jake just as silent as her. It was only when he lifted their joint hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand that she made any sound, a soft sigh of his name, just loud enough for Jake to hear.

It was his answering smile that gave her hope.

~

Do you remember all the city lights on the water? You saw me start to believe for the first time, You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter, You are the best thing that's ever been mine.

[isolapyrena]

XiMang deserve more happy AUs

@dangerouslyxdelicate asked and I have done my best... Generic Victorian England AU, vibes of Mr Rochester (OK maybe Georgian England then), smut included.

Gu Mang didn’t know where to put himself. His easy confidence had left him the moment the immaculately uniformed footman had opened the door and the butler behind him had stared at him too hard, clearly trying to assess if he could just send him away as he informed him that his grace was not at home.

He knew the place and these servants, well even. And the servants knew him. But last time he was here he had to bow and scrape to even the scullery maid, not that she had made him. He wouldn’t have had the right to be seen above stairs, yet alone approach the front door.

Now he was something different. But his hard won, battle worn freedom and status didn’t mean anything to these people. So he found himself politely refusing tea in the second best drawing room and walking out into in the garden to wait for the lord of the manor to return.

It would have been better if he had announced his visit in advance. The servants would have their instructions, they would know what respect to show him according to their master’s directions. But he’d only just mustered up the courage to put on the swagger to make it this far into Mo Xi’s world again. He didn’t know what a rejection without even meeting face to face would do to him.

The thing was that it was he himself that had said that what people said while they were screwing did not mean anything. So why was he relying on an invite from Mo Xi to visit spoken in the sweaty and sticky after moments of sex? A promise of a home whispered on soaked bedsheets. He missed him. That’s why. He wanted to make sure the man wasn’t missing him back. He wanted to depend on those words that he had tried to make light of.

He had seen General Mo in various guises on the battlefield and its environs, from full dress uniform for inspections to complete undress in the privacy of his quarters. But he had never seen his lord of the country manor appearance. He was being facetious; he knew full well Mo Xi was a duke. This ‘country manor’ was a stately home second to nothing less than maybe two of the royal palaces. It was almost as if he was worried his general would have become a different person with the different outfit and inheritance of the palatial residence, yet alone the title.

It had been a long sunny day of high summer and the sun was now starting to set. Mo Xi could not be far away, surely, given what the butler had (not very graciously) informed him of his movements. Gu Mang walked to the front of the house and set off down the grand driveway to sit on a gate that led into the grassland surrounding the house to look out for him. The evening haze was setting in over the rolling countryside in a golden light that slowly dimmed as the dark blue of the early night reached down to the shadows of the trees and hedgerows.

There was a slight mist on the road as he heard horse hooves approaching at a considerable pace. His heart, that he had pretended so vehemently he did not have, leapt. But as soon as he even made out the shape of a horse and its rider rounding the corner, the horse reared up in shock at an unknown presence in the half light. Its rider managed to get the horse back under control but it continued to circle fretfully, unwilling to pass the man that had spooked it.

‘What spirit is this blocking my path? Have you bewitched my horse?’ the rider, clearly Mo Xi, called out.

Gu Mang jumped off the gate and rushed to grab the horse’s reins as quickly as he could. As soon as the great daft thing recognised him everything suddenly stilled. Mo Xi was finally able to see who had caused all the trouble.

Gu Mang simply stood to take in the man in the riding coat, breeches and boots. He looked every inch the gentleman he thought he would. The fitted clothes suited him even better than his uniform, and that was saying something. He regretted ever coming here. He felt so out of place in his civilian clothes he couldn’t even raise his most basic of smiles of self-defence.

When he dared to make eye contact it got worse. Mo Xi looked angry. He didn’t say a word, just frowning deeply as he gracefully dismounted and grabbed Gu Mang’s hand. Gu Mang expected him to head towards the house but instead he opened the gate, still tightly holding on to Gu Mang with his other hand and dragged him into the field, the horse being pulled in by its reins too. Without making eye contact with him, Mo Xi then took the reins from Gu Mang and let them fall.

He continued to lead the confused Gu Mang a little way then, surprisingly gently, let go of his hand and stepped so that he pushed him against the trunk of a great old oak that stood at the edge of the hedgerow. There was the slightest pause in which Gu Mang felt the other’s eyes flicking over him before he felt two hands rest on either side of his face and Mo Xi was… kissing him, hard. Possessively.

Gu Mang lost his sense of self in the passion of the other man. All his worries were gone, just like that. Eventually he found the space to gently extricate himself to the extent he could speak. ‘I thought you were angry with me.’

‘I am. How could you make me wait this long?’

‘I didn’t want to presume,’ Gu Mang answered quietly. But then he looked up at Mo Xi and finally understood. This man staring at him with the utmost seriousness had not been saying things he didn’t mean in the heat of passion. He was genuinely hurt that Gu Mang had not relied on his words. What else could he do? Gu Mang pulled him back into another kiss and purposefully made it soft, repentant, asking for forgiveness.

He looked into Mo Xi’s eyes as he did it and saw the hard set of his face relax. But the intensity in his touch remained. ‘I love you Gu Mang,’ he said. ‘You can believe that now and later and for however long I live.’

He let that statement sink in as he gazed at Gu Mang, his dark eyes shining with the very last of the day’s light. ‘I can look after you now. Let me,’ he whispered.

Gu Mang did not have the words to reply to that. I love you too was not strong enough. He instead replied in his own way, with the strength of his kiss and his hands on Mo Xi’s body. And it had really been too long. He knew it wasn’t particularly romantic and it should probably wait until they got to a room, but he was grasping for the catch to Mo Xi’s breeches and reaching inside before he could think better of it. He took hold of Mo Xi’s already slightly hard cock as best he could while Mo Xi quickly got the idea and mirrored his actions, fumbling around to get to his.

Kissing and panting and pulling at each other was not elegant but he had to have this intimacy right now and he got the impression Mo Xi did too. Their kissing tailed off as their concentration moved downwards and Mo Xi held Gu Mang’s head into his chest with his free hand. In this moment Mo Xi’s beating heart was his alone, no question. Their gasping breaths were the only other sounds to reach him; the evening mist suppressed everything else.

He was glad of the rough support of the tree trunk on his back as well as Mo Xi’s steady hold as his knees became weak, then threatened to buckle, as he quicky reached his orgasm. He kissed up onto Mo Xi’s neck and held on to that man for dear life as he came, Mo Xi gently stroking him through it, holding him close. God it was nothing fancy but he’d really, really needed that man to look after him like that.

Mo Xi wasn’t quite there yet so, bringing himself back to earth, Gu Mang unceremoniously swung their positions around so Mo Xi was able to lean against the tree as Gu Mang dropped to his knees, pulling Mo Xi’s breeches down as he went, and placed his mouth over as much of Mo Xi’s ridiculously large member as he could. He held a hand over the rest and used his other to grab onto the top of Mo Xi’s thigh. After letting out a ridiculously wanton moan, suitable for the kind of princess he truly was, Mo Xi froze. Gu Mang licked his way over the head and reached as far down as he could with his tongue, swallowing awkwardly, keenly aware of the spit running down his chin. Mo Xi gradually relaxed, encouraging noises escaping quietly here and there, leaning more and more onto the tree as they continued, his hands running softly through Gu Mang’s long, loose hair.

As he looked up and met Mo Xi’s wide eyes, his own eyes slightly watering and wet mouth still around the other’s cock, a shudder went through Mo Xi and he came heavily in Gu Mang’s mouth. Even Mo Xi had his limits. As Gu Mang released him, Mo Xi crashed down on his knees in front of him and used his thumb to wipe the various liquids away from Gu Mang’s lips and chin.

They leaned into each other, catching their breaths, taking some time in sharing this warmth, as darkness proper fell around them.

‘Those servants of mine better be able to grovel hard tomorrow or they are losing their jobs,’ Mo Xi eventually muttered.

‘Why?’ Gu Mang asked, wondering what had got Mo Xi onto that chain of thought, now of all times.

‘For not doing their jobs well enough that you had to wait for me on a gate.’

‘Oh. It wasn’t that bad.’

‘Let’s go home. I promise you it will be more comfortable than this.’

‘This wasn’t so bad. But home… sounds good,’ Gu Mang replied, sure the other was unaware of the full impact of his easy words, as they started to get themselves together.

They found the horse, who had been politely grazing with his back to them, as if they would have noticed or cared, and walked to the house, home, under a clear crescent moon and starry sky.