#I’m just too soft sometimes urgh

[ghost-bxrd]

If you had to pick, do you like angst or fluff more? :0

Generally I tend to read something that has both. I need an angsty start and fluffy ending lol ✨

But if I had to pick… I mean it definitely depends on how you define angst, but if it’s not too hardcore I’d probably go with angst. Otherwise— fluff.

I’m too soft for the dark stuff. TwT

[natsaffection]

Hello baby, are u good? i saw someone requestin “prof nat x student reader” and i LOVE IT. For real, pls do it.

BUT i also love prof nat x prof reader, could you pls do that too? Like they both teach diferent languages in the same school and nat is super rough and feared by the students, and r is the cool teacher everyone loves, so they keep flirting at work and its cute and funny??

I would really love to see that please my love 🫶

‎

A/n: Okay, so first of all, HELLOUUU IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING ANYTHINGG 🏃🏻‍♀️ Second. I’m blushing, blushing and blushing. Too many “pet”names in this request, urgh 🫣🥸

Also, it was fun to write something in my first language, soo🌚 Have funnnn

warnings: a little anxious student, flirting, mention of oral

Word count: 1045

pairing: Teacher!Natasha x Teacher!Reader

‎

‎

‎

It was fifth period today and everything went according to plan. You were well on time and the students were doing perfectly as well. That's what convinced you to become a teacher. To give your knowledge to the next generation and do something good. 

You used to hate school, though. But later you found out that it was simply because of the teachers. What's the point of yelling at students and giving them bad grades if they have a bad day? After all, they are not machines, they are human beings...

And that's what brought you forward. You wanted to be a great role model to your students. A person to talk to when things went wrong in life. And they could do that with you. Your students were grateful that they had you in this particular subject. 

German. 

Many have the mindset that it is one of the most difficult languages in the world. For you, it was relatively okay to speak and especially to learn. You had good prospects.

It was near the end of class when you noticed a student of yours couldn't stop wiggling her legs under the table. You panicked that it was your stuff and saved for yourself to talk to the person about it at the end, and when the time came, you did,

"Hey Sarah, do you have a minute?" The girl stopped and looked frantically at the clock hanging on the wall. "S-Shure!" She walked up, and you addressed it, "So..is something too heavy for you?" The girl could barely hold focus as she kept looking at her watch, "It's not really! I Just..I.." You notice, "Am I keeping you up? Are you about to write a exam?" The girl became more nervous, "N-No..I just have to go, you know?" She said quickly,

"What class do you have now?"

"Russian..." Ah, there it is. It was generally a mystery to you why you would pack two languages after each other. But it wasn't that. You knew who the person teaching Russian was, and you had a suspicion.

"Is it because Ms. Romanoff has the class?" You see an eye movement, "Yes..."

"Does she scare you?" She looks down, "Not scared, just...She's so strict...The complete opposite part of you..." You continue to look at her and realize she's not the first to say that about Natasha. However, you couldn't understand it since you only know her soft and caring.

"I'm sure things will be different today, really." Heh, and you know why too..

"Really?" You notice how her demeanor got better, and she stands up straight, "Yes and now let's go, it's almost time after all." The girl smiled and headed off, "Thanks Y/n!"

You sat down, appeased and went through the next few hours. When you were done and the end of the day knocked on the door, you make your way to your colleague. The bell rang for the end of class and you walked in. You immediately noticed the change in atmosphere,

"And don't forget the homework until next week, I don't want to have to tell you everything again, so do it thoroughly!"

Okay wow..you knew Natasha could get a little stubborn sometimes, but like this? You stopped at the door and saw the expressions on the students' faces. Most of them had their eyes on the floor as they walked past Natasha. Then, when everyone was outside, you close the door and Natasha looked to you, "Oh, hey Kotenok, How long have you been here?" You cross your arms and lean against the door frame, "A while..What was today's topic?" Natasha sits down at her table, "General debate...Only some get it right, the others don't." You hear that she was annoyed by this, "I just don't get it! Why do people sign up for classes and do nothing?"

You drop your arms and go to her, "Maybe it's not them but you..." Any other person would be headless right now, "Oh yeah, and why do you think that Detka, hmm?" You sit down on her lap, "I don't know, you think I'm great..." Natasha looked up at you, "You can only think you're great too..."

"Ha..ha, stop it. Now let's be honest, I had a conversation with a student of yours earlier and she was totally intimidated by you!" Natasha sat back, "Sarah, right? So that's why she was late. I think, Ms. L/n, you're a bad role model." That made you laugh,

"Me? A bad role model? Who doesn't want to tell the kids about the stuff a second time?" You look at her table to see what it is in detail, "Перестань смотреть на мою работу, милая.” (stop looking at my work, sweet.)

You look back at her, "Is it weird if I say I think it's hot when you talk to me in Russian? Weil ich kann das auch.” (Because I can do that too) Natasha had to restrain herself from jumping on you right away, "Fuck, that sounds so evil coming from you..." You lean closer to her, "Well..you know what else can come out of me?" 

"Oh hoh, Y/n you dirty girl..The exemplary one wants to be taken in a classroom, huh? Sorry to disappoint you there." She averts her gaze from you and is now sorting through the sheets on her desk, "I have work to do." You put a hand over hers, stand up and kneeling down.

"We can do that later..."

Before you could put your plan into action, though, Steve walked in. You pretend you dropped something and stand up. However, Steve knew what was going on, "I'm just going to ignore what I saw." You had to stifle a laugh and Natasha simply asked, "What do you think you saw, Rogers?" He walked up to the two of you, "Too much. Here, one of your students left this with me in the hall." He put a list on the table. Natasha looked at it for a moment and then back at him. The situation was relatively awkward..For all of you. "Soo?"

"It's okay, I'm going, god..." You both look as he goes to the door and before he closes it, looks at you again, "Have f-fun..." And the door closed.

-

-

-

-

I HOPE ITS NOT TO MUCH RUSHED😭

[shipmistress9]

Some Things Will Never Change

Fandom: Fourth Wing -- The Empyrean

Pairing: Xaden/Violet -- Riorgail

Rating: Teen

Summary: Just a soft morning, years after the events of the books.

. o O o .

It’s early morning as I stand at the large window in our living room and gaze out at the land around us, a hot mug of coffee warming my hands. Soft grass-covered hills with dew glistening in the morning sunlight, broken apart by rough cliffs. To the left, I can just see the entrance to the cave our dragons live in, and in the distance, the wide ocean is beckoning, the sound of the waves sometimes audible even from up here. It’s beautiful, and even after all these years, I’m still stunned that we made it this far.

I feel Xaden behind me even before his hands wrap around my waist, his warmth against my back, and he lowers his head to place a soft kiss to where my neck and shoulder meet.

“Morning, love of my life.”

I chuckle, both at his words and at the way his sleep-rough voice sends a shiver down my spine, setting my body alight in an instance. How does he still do that?

“Morning,” I hum back at him, tilting my head to give him better access. My eyes flutter shut as he trails a path of kisses up my neck, lingering on that spot at the side of my throat that aways makes my knees go weak before moving further, his breath tickling behind my ear. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

Xaden grunts in affirmation, but I don’t think he meant the view. I’m not sure I did, either. I lean back against his chest, all but melting against him as his hands roam up my sides and I turn my head to seek his lips with mine. It’s a slow kiss, full of emotions and tenderness. It’ll change soon, I know it, but for the moment it is everything I ever wanted, this closeness, the assurance that there will always be a ‘we’, that until the end of our days, we won’t be separated.

His hands tighten, the emotions overflowing through our bond. It’s nearly enough to bring tears to my eyes, and I lift my hand to bury my fingers in his soft hair, to hold him close, to feel as our lips part, our tongues meeting in that dance they know all too well.

“Urgh, really? Before breakfast? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Xaden’s lips twitch into a grin, mirrored by my own, before we part and look over at where Liam just left his bedroom. At now twelve years old and after his latest growth spurt, he looks exactly like a younger—and much lankier—version of Xaden. Well, except for the eyes. Those, he got from me, and when he’s happy, the blue in them outshines the brown, as if his name-sake is smiling back at us through our son.

“Of course, before breakfast,” Lilith pipes up at her older brother from behind him, yawning as she rubs her eyes. “Didn’t you get used to that by now?” She trudges over into the kitchen, strands of her long brown hair sticking in every direction from where they escaped her messy night braid.

Liam grunts and rolls his eyes, following her to help set the table. “You’d think they eventually get past that stage,” he grumbles.

“Evidently not,” Lilith says in her currently standard know-it-all tone, sounding a little exasperated.”

I can’t help but smile, at their exchange but also at how Xaden’s hands move down to curl around my round belly. “He’s right, you know?” I turn in Xaden’s arms, my hands resting on his chest. “You’d think we eventually get past this stage…” This stage where all I can see and think about is him, where everything else stops existing the moments he enters a room. Where my heart and soul belong to him, entirely, irrevocably, forever.

And of course, it changed. Our two—soon three—children hold an equal share of our affection. And yet…

“I hope it never changes,” Xaden purrs into my mind, his lips finding mine again. “This craziness between us. The fire. I never want it to end.”

I chuckle. “Same…”

“Besides,” he mumbles against my lips, his arms holding me close. “I told you so the first night we spent together, and so many times since then. I’ll never get enough of you.”

. o O o .

AN: I was in dire need of some fluff. Hope someone enjoys. 😊

**Inspired by a comment from my own 12yo 😆**

[typewriter83]

https://www.tumblr.com/typewriter83/765179812572758016/girl-i-was-rewatxhing-a-gameplay-tonight-and-i-had?source=share

(this is so big I won't mind if you take too damn long to respond❤️ I understand you)

KDJDKSKKD WHAT? THAT'S SUCH A GOOD FUCKING PLOT OMG. I WOULD READ THAT EVEN WITH ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.

(but fuck yeah I agree, ellie would be such a good punk singer. Kind of emo girlie even. Have you checked maggie linderman? Her song"different" would kind of be something ellie would totally sing if she was a singer).

and omg I can see the vibes of the concept you're cooking in here. I can totally see both of them as "singers that got bad reputation for something" (🗣️I don't know what ellie did but I'm on her side🗣️), specially joel. On this, I can totally imagine that things to joel could have started to get bad in his life after he lost sarah in this universe too. And honestly sometimes paparazzi and interviewers can be so insensitive that it would be so joel to get his bad reputation also after fighting with so many of these people in the past if they asked about his past. Also, I would die to find what would their dynamic would be as singers if that story happened. Maybe when they start working together, their personalities can crush a bit because joel he was always used to being the lead singer in his band, giving orders and deciding things, but when he tries that with ellie thinking she would just listen, he soon finds out she has strong personality, doesn't really like to obbey and has a sense of criticism and leadership as much as him. Or maybe Joel has this boomer thought where he thinks this new generation of musicians are all amateurs and not good enough, and ellie is determined to make him realize he's wrong. But I can also see their personalities bonding so much when they really start to work on their album.

Omg have you listened to "exile" by taylor swift and Bon Iver? That would be so them coded wtf, I could totally picture them singing it wtfffffff (and bon iver's voice is so sexy and deep it reminds me of joel's👹)

So many things is reminding me of this concept you came up with actually. On the slutty side for example, there's this the weeknd song where he sings "we had sex on the studio" and well..👹that would be a scene worth reading sjjsjsj. On the soft side, there was this video on ig where a girl from a band was playing guitar and singing but her guitar's strap fell and she had to hold it, but her drummer came to rescue, fixed for her and he stroked her hair before going back and everyone in the audience was like "awww" and I WISH I COULD FIND THIS VIDEO AGAIN because that would be so them. Imagine if joel did this on a tour, but instead of stroking her hair he kisses her forehead😭 imagine if they also sing some songs looking at eachother like they're talking in form of music, like it's just them on the stage, OR OR if ellie convinces joel to be more in touch with being online, and his first few posts on social media is hanging out with her or posting a picture of her being distracted, and ellie gets all soft because how can she explain to this old man he's basically being her fan account😭? And oh my god Joel is a guardog in every fic, imagine if a paparazzi crosses some boundery with ellie and joel does something about it, but she contains him from doing more because he could get in trouble with media for it. Urgh I can totally see the controversy they would be, though. A lot of people would ship them but it could also get a bad reputation for joel for other reasons.

Hello nonnie cub - is this Miss Undercover or do we have another cub in our den who loves analyzing our fandom. Either way, I’m here for it!

First of all, thank you. I’m rather fond of that story - it’s about 35-40k in length right now. I have lots of ideas for it, but pulling it together has proven difficult when there are two stubborn fictional characters constantly screaming for attention - they know who they are and they need to sit down. 😏

If I were to write this in the TLOU universe, Joel would be on the far side of middle age, approaching or over 50, with a drinking problem, but trying to get sober. He’s been known to get aggressive with paparazzi. Ellie would be a punk rock princess with a serious attitude problem - the label won’t drop her because she’s so fucking talented, writes her own music, has been plucking guitars since she was a child - but she goes through producers like tissues and she’s had more lawsuits filed against her for assaulting paparazzi than the studio cares to acknowledge.

Their dynamic would be volatile at first - he can’t stand her music, thinks she’s too loud and chaotic. He’s more laidback, classic rock style, and Ellie calls him an old man - while she follows him around like a lost puppy. He’s gruff and mean, but he gives it to her straight, he doesn’t push her away like everyone else does - she sticks like glue.

I think Ellie would torment him with social media - especially old school instagram, trying to make photos artistic and flattering. She takes lots of photos of him hidden in shadows, dramatic and striking and he grumbles a lot but doesn’t ask for her to take them down. She starts taking selfies of them together - which of course ignites all sorts of speculation and paparazzi problems. Imagine Joel pushing them aside while they get in Ellie’s face. Ellie’s got fists swinging and eventually Joel grabs her and pops her feisty ass over his shoulder - lots of photos of her screaming as he carries her off.

Haha, stop. I have 3 stories going at once. I don’t know if or when I’ll ever sit down and revisit this original story. But this was fun

🫶🏻

[lumeha]

Persona for you? 👀 Feel free to pick one game in specific if you’d prefer.

I'm gonna focus on 4 and 5 because those are the ones I finished most recently and discussed the most, but

(sends kisses to 2)

I'm traumatised by this pair of bastard games <3 very good

Favorite character

hm hmmmmmm HMMMMMMMMMM

Gods. Urgh. I know the second part is the second favourite, but I do have to say, it is a toss up between Teddie and Yosuke ?

I didn't expect to love Teddie as much as I ended up doing. I may be doing some abstraction about the womanizing, for the both of them lmao, but Teddie genuinely has one of the most compelling character arc I've seen ? I think what they did with him is what P5 tried with Morgana, but it did end up working much, much better with Teddie, because Teddie loose his role as navigator to Rise but he's taking himself to a different role in the group because they are his friends and. His discovery of friendship, his relation with Nanako, even with Yosuke's parents, is just so fucking good, and I am still a little heartbroken from the bad end when Nanako is in the hospital okay : )

Yosuke's just a mess as a character lmao but that is what makes him interesting to me. He's just a teen who doesn't really know what he wants and how to care, in a lot of way, and he's also incredibly bad at grieving, and it's just really fun to see. Also. Great Shadow to start with. Would bet he would easily get to confront his Shadow again later down the line. Love him though. A nerd. I also share his music tastes and that's funny.

Second favorite character

(carries Ryuji above my head) look at this momma's boy he's so fucking cute I love him and he deserves better than what P5 gives him goddamnit !!! Love ! Him ! So ! Much !!

Like, yeah, he's rude, but you know what, he deserves to be, it's not like people have been good to him. Glad Strikers actually let him say fuck. It was deserved <3

... More seriously, I am insanely soft for a rude guy who is actually really caring. He's trying. It's also kind of amusing to have him try to hide a sweet tooth in some scenes ?? He's just. I like him a lot.

Least favorite character

Akechi

... I still laugh thinking about my late evening meltdown when faced with his goddamn boss fight and all I was commenting to my friend was "I just want to go to sleep fuck you man" (couldn't just stop the game or I would have lost a good two or three hours of gameplay <3) (I'm still mad lmao)

But yeah it's Akechi

I just wish I didn't find him in unrelated tags on tumblr sometimes

The character I’m most like

... I have no idea, frankly.

But I definitely was very much like Mary when I was a teen, angsty bad poetry included. Y'all are lucky I have *some* shame AND no actual translation skills or I would have shown it lmao.

Favorite pairing

I. hm. which one. That's a good question. It might genuinely be a battle between Yosuke/Teddie and Ryuji/Mishima. Which. Are not the same vibes at all but there's just something specific about these two ships about caring and loving someone and loving the flaws as qualities that I just really enjoy

Least favorite pairing

... Yes it's Aki///ren. do I really. do I need to.

I think it's obvious why.

Favorite moment

P4, will have to go with the murderer's reveal in the TV world when you go along his Social Link and it changes arcana, it's genuinely a *fantastic* moment and it has some really cool shit going on aesthetically. Also as much as I hate the guy he is an absolutely fantastic antagonist and I love to hate him.

(but also shout out to Rise's boss fight and how she takes control of it. I love Rise. She's so good. And it's really cool to have her retake control like this !!)

P5 I'll have to go with Kamoshida's Palace. Just. In general. The game starts on such a fucking strong leg. Too bad it kind of falters after that but Kamoshida's Palace has many good moments, from the first Persona awakening of the MC and Ryuji and Ann to just them all discovering what the fuck is going on. Just. good. aesthetically interesting too. Yes that's important to me XD

Rating out of 10

A solid 8 out of 10. Might be a little higher, but I just think - 4 and 5 both have some glaring problems with their stories that did drive me a little insane. But I was compelled to go through them and finish them which means a lot too because I'm a scatter brain jfsdklfk

[seitmai]

He just gives you a knowing look, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, you know I think you look gorgeous in pretty much everything. Including that particular shade of green.”

That's what I like to hear 😌

You’ve been enjoying this something with them over the last few months. The three of you fell into everything so easily, but it wasn’t something you’d put a label on yet. You’ve always been the type of woman who likes having all the answers, but with them- with this- for the first time in your life you were ok with not having them.

Fuck a label

You’d turned your phone off the moment you’d gotten in your car, wanting some time to yourself, not in any kind of mood now to be around other people. The only thing you could think of had been getting home so that you could simmer in peace.

Sometimes you just need moment like that

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to think. And you really didn’t want to deal with your feelings.

Mood lmao

They’ve always teased you about it, with all of the soft pinks and creamy neutrals, and how it looks too sweet, too pure for a woman who enjoys taking two cocks as much as you do. But you’d seen the gleam in their eyes and the gears turning in their heads when they’d help you set up your pretty white wrought iron bedframe; it was the one thing they’d never commented on, especially since you were more than happy letting them tie you up to it.

🤭🤭🤭

Jake tsks, flashing you his dimples. “But I’m having fun watching his mouth instead,” he says, nodding his head towards Bradley. “Speaking of, you got a little something on your chin there, Bradshaw.” “That’s because arguing gets her wet.”

I just 😮‍💨🥵, no words

Hangman tugs you up just enough for him to maneuver himself behind you and cradles you back against his chest, his arms winding themselves around your waist. As Bradley rests his chin on top of your thigh, his thumb making soothing circles on the swell of your hip, “We’re not what, baby?” And you’re not sure you’ve ever heard his raspy voice so soft before.  It wasn’t a secret those closest to you all there was something going on between the three of you. After all, Bradley was affectionate and Jake was objectively the least subtle man on the planet.

Urgh, such a cute and simple moment between them

“Is that what this is all about?” Rooster’s eyes are intense as he looks at you. “Just because we’ve been keeping things casual doesn’t mean this thing between all of us isn’t the real deal. I’m not seeing or sleeping with anyone else. And I don’t want to.” “I’m not either,” Hangman adds, running his hands along your sides. “I’ve got my hands more than full with you and I like it that way.”

I can work with that 😌🤭

A surprised laugh almost slips out of you at the mental image of them hashing out their feelings during the commercials between some game on TV, but he’s looking at you so thoughtfully that you know he’s being entirely serious.

Hilarious but I have to wonder when and how that talk really went 🤔

Jake tangles the fingers of your right hands together. “The way I see it is that even when you’re not with me, I know you’re with someone I know and trust, who cares about you just as much as I do. Someone who’s going to look out for you the same way that I would.”

🥹🥹🥹

“You’re the one calling the shots here. You’re in charge and always have been ever since that first time in Pensacola,” Rooster reminds you. “We’re both here because we don’t want anyone else. This doesn’t need to be complicated. Whether you’re with him or with me or we’re all together. It’s already working just fine when you aren’t going ghost on us and ditching us without saying a word.”

“We’re good. This is good,” Jake promises, leaning his forehead against your temple. You feel like your heart might burst from the sheer affection you have for the two of them.

Urgh for real🥰

“So I was the only one overthinking things?” “You sure were,” Hangman agrees, “You and that big brain of yours.” He trails open-mouth kisses up your neck. “Now have you straightened out your shit or are we going to have to do it for you?” he asks into the shell of your ear. You can feel the grin he’s wearing, and you’re positive if you turned to look at him you’d see those dimples of his.

I'm gonna melt 🫠🥰🤭

“That’s our girl.” Jake tips your head back, lips a whisper away from yours and desire reflected in his green eyes. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to kiss me until he makes you come. And then I’m going to fuck the attitude out of you while you apologize to Rooster for being so mouthy. We’re gonna remind you what it’s like to have two aviators wrapped around your little finger. Sound good?”

Sounds very, very good 🤤

I absolutely loved this story!

Call My Bluff

Summary: Rooster and Hangman have always attracted attention wherever they went, only now you're starting to have a hard time ignoring it. You weren't jealous, you couldn't be. After all, they're yours- at least for now.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Length: 5.8k

Warnings: smut and a dash of angst (mdni)

(author's note: this fic is set in the Up the Ante universe, however it can be read on it's own!)

You knew you were staring- casually observing, one could argue- but it was hard to pull your gaze away from Jake at the bar.

He had gone to get another round of drinks for everyone more than ten minutes ago. It was a busy night at the Hard Deck, but not that busy. It really shouldn’t have surprised you though to realize why he was held up, especially with the way his tight white t-shirt was offsetting his end of summer tan. He’s always been too damn charming for his own good, especially when it was paired with that deep rooted sense of southern hospitality.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to see Hangman getting hit on by another woman. However, it was the second time that night he’d been approached by the same woman with all too interested eyes and an enticing smile.

“If I didn’t know better,” Rooster says, sliding up to you and squeezing your hip, “I’d say you’d look like you were jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” It comes out a bit too short to be believable.

He just gives you a knowing look, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, you know I think you look gorgeous in pretty much everything. Including that particular shade of green.”

You let out an annoyed huff and take distracted sip of the remnants of your drink, which was now mostly melted ice cubes with an essence of gin.

Bradley just chuckles lightly and takes a quick glance around the room before pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head.

“I’m sure I could think of a couple ways to distract you," he offers.

You’ve been enjoying this something with them over the last few months. The three of you fell into everything so easily, but it wasn’t something you’d put a label on yet. You’ve always been the type of woman who likes having all the answers, but with them- with this- for the first time in your life you were ok with not having them.

There were electrifying nights the three of you spent together. And there were peaceful nights you spent home alone. There were times it was just you and Rooster and other times when it was just Hangman and you. There was time spent in beds and out of them. There were sunny days spent on the beach. There were hours spent taking road trips and exploring your new state. There were nice dinners out and quiet nights in. There were reservations made for two and there were tickets bought for three.

It was a new dynamic for you, and something you’d never could have expected. And you’ve been happy.

Really, really happy.

But over the last couple of weeks, it’s been hard ignoring the voice in the back of your head that has been filling your brain with all the what-ifs.

What if this isn’t working for them the way it was working for you.

What if this causal arrangement you have with them isn’t enough.

Or worse, what if you’re being selfish with them.

As you watch Hangman with that smooth smile on his face- but without a trace of those dimples you know so well- as he talks to the pretty girl near his elbow, you can’t help but wonder if this something – with him, with them- comes with an expiration date.

The room feels too small with the crowd of people- with their loud chatter and booming bursts of laughter- and all the too big thoughts swirling around in your head. Everything feels like too much, from the rings of ceramic mugs on the ceiling to the string lights and model planes around the bar to the patches covered walls.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmur, stepping out of Bradley’s grasp.

He hums, letting you know he’d heard you, giving you your space before drifting over to the pool table where the rest of the Daggers are gathered around.

And then you walk straight out the front door and leave.

You’ve been home for less than an hour when you hear a set of car doors shut with a heavy thud outside of your house. And there’s no question in your mind about who it could be.

The two quick, sharp raps on your front door only a few moments later confirm what you already knew.

You’d turned your phone off the moment you’d gotten in your car, wanting some time to yourself, not in any kind of mood now to be around other people. The only thing you could think of had been getting home so that you could simmer in peace. You had just wanted to get your head back on right without feeling like the walls were pressing in on you.

You open the door to see Rooster standing there looking pissed. His big arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight, and lips pressed firmly together in a flat line. Jake is just a step behind him, leaning against the porch post with his poker face already in place, a pretty picture of nonchalance.

“We tried calling,” Bradley rasps, the words clipped and short. You can tell he’s trying to keep his temper in check, but there was no missing the storm cloud behind his eyes.

You blink at him and drum your nails on the side of the door, giving him a flippant shrug. And Jake lets out a low disapproving whistle that grates on your already ragged nerves.

Rooster lifts an eyebrow at you like really. He’s always been the more hot headed one of the two of them. You know this cold shoulder act of yours is pushing his buttons, and you’re surprised he hasn’t called you out on it yet.

Not that you’d probably answer him anyways.

The last thing you want to do is talk.

It was why you left in the first place.

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to think. And you really didn’t want to deal with your feelings.

Sex was easy. Sex was fun. Sex wasn’t complicated.

Everything else is exactly what you’d been trying to get away from, and instead all you’d done was have it delivered directly to your doorstep.

“I don’t remember inviting either one of you over,” you state, coolly, doing your best to feign indifference.

Rooster’s mouth drops opens, but Hangman is quicker on the draw. “And yet, here we are,” he says, stating the obvious, then mirroring the same brazen shrug you’d given the glowering man in front of you. “Guess the question is, are you going to let us in?”

You know without a doubt that if you said no they’d respect your decision and walk themselves right back to Jake’s truck and out of your drive away. You could have your space to simmer, just like you’d wanted.

What you’d thought you wanted.

…

Or.

Or maybe you just needed to remind yourself what exactly this is. Since there’s not much room to think when you’re too busy coming.

You drag your gaze from Bradley’s smoldering whiskey brown eyes to Jake’s all too observant sea green ones, before spinning away from them to saunter down the hallway towards your bedroom.

Knowing you still have the full weight of their twin stares on you, you reach for the hem of the oversized shirt from your college days that you’d thrown on the second you’d arrive home and tug it up and off, dropping it on the floor right before you turn the corner and out of their view.

There are a few noises you’re able to pick out in the too quiet of your house over your thundering heartbeat as you flick on the switch to the lamp in the corner of your room. The click of the front door being shut and the deadbolt turned into place. The sound of their sturdy soled shoes being toed off at the entry. The low baritone of Hangman’s murmured drawl, although the words that are spoken are too soft for you to make out.

And then the one you’d been anticipating the most, their weighty footsteps coming down the hallway to your bedroom. They’ve always teased you about it, with all of the soft pinks and creamy neutrals, and how it looks too sweet, too pure for a woman who enjoys taking two cocks as much as you do. But you’d seen the gleam in their eyes and the gears turning in their heads when they’d help you set up your pretty white wrought iron bedframe; it was the one thing they’d never commented on, especially since you were more than happy letting them tie you up to it.

You’ve just shimmied out of your panties- still bent at the waist- when you hear Bradley groan behind you. You linger there a moment longer than you need to, making sure he gets a good look at you like this. From reflection in the mirror that’s hung on your wall, you can see that the irritation is still rolling off of him in waves, but so is the heat of his want as he watches you stand back up with greedy, appreciative eyes.

Turning back towards him you let him take his fill of your naked body, one hip temptingly tipped to the side, daring him to be the one first to make a move.

Rooster slowly drags his heated gaze over you before he pulls his t-shirt over his head in that one-handed way that men do before pitching it off to the side. His broad chest is already starting to turn your favorite shade of flushed pink.

“How can a girl as pretty as you be so goddamn frustrating?” he mutters as he flicks open the button of his tight jeans. Only unzipping them enough to release some of the pressure off his visibly hard cock in a way that shows you just how turned on he is.

You feel high off of your own self-satisfaction as it twists and swirls in your chest.

“I think she just likes keeping us on our toes,” Hangman drawls, entering the room. A slight look of amusement coasts over his handsome face as he looks from you to Rooster. Clearly content to wait for the two of you to work whatever’s going on out of your systems.

You skim your fingers up your body and cup your breast in your hand. “What? You don’t think you can keep up, Rooster?” you challenge. He tips his head back up towards the ceiling and forces out a breath through pursed lips. And you’re tempted to see just how far you can push him.

“Oh, darlin’,” Jake chuckles, shaking his head, “You’re determined to trouble tonight, aren’t you?”

“And if I am?” you taunt, rolling your nipple between your fingers. Two sets of eyes hone in on the motion, but no one makes a move. “But if you both are just going to stand there, I’ve got a vibrator that works just as well- if not better.”

You’re trying to goad them. You know it and they know it.

Rooster struts up to you, grabbing a handful of your ass and hauls you against him. He’s thick and firm against your stomach. “If you’re going to act like a brat, then I’m going to treat you like a brat, baby,” he murmurs into the hinge of your jaw, “Now, get on the bed.” He punctuates the order with a swift, firm flat-handed slap.

And for the first time since you’d left the bar, you grin. Feeling entirely too pleased with yourself, even with the lingering sting of his handiwork.

This. This is what you want.

You want demanding fingers and the scrape of teeth on your skin. You want messy mouths and generous tongues.  You want fast and hard and filthy and rough. You want to hear their heavy breaths and moans and curses. You want to give and to take, only for them to reward you with more.

You want as much of them as you can have, for as long as you can have them.

Bradley basically herds you to the bed while Jake watches on with a smirk, not that you needed much convincing anyways. The second you’re stretched across it, Bradley is on top of you wedging himself and those wide shoulders of his between your thighs.

There’s no build up, no gentle lead in. Rooster’s mouth is set on ruination.

He’s had you enough times that he knows exactly how to flick and circle and lave over you in a way that will end with white noise in your ears and starbursts behind your eyelids. His tongue is unrelenting on your clit, showing you no mercy as you start to quake under his touch.

It’s dizzying how fast he’s gotten you so spun up. Your breaths are coming out ragged and uneven as your fingers dig into the fabric of your gauzy duvet. And every time you whimper, he rewards you with a groan that only ripples up and throughout your keyed up body.

You’re right there, so so close to unraveling.

And then he pulls his mouth off of you, “Why’d you leave?”

A shocked gasp escapes you. At the timing of the question and the way he bites the fleshy part at the crease of your thigh.

“Bradley.” You keen as he sucks the very same spot, like he wants to mark you as his own.

“C’mon now, Bradshaw,” Jake tuts, from where he’s leaning against the door jamb, “Our girl was so close.” His ankles casually cross over each other, looking right at home as he watches you get eaten out by another man.

Rooster scoffs. “She can come as much as she wants, after she answers the damn question.” He brings the hand that had been gripping your hip over the center of you. “How about this,” he says, sinking a single thick finger into you, “Consider this a show of good faith.”

And then he has the audacity to send you a smirk.

“Fuck you, Rooster,” you huff, tilting into his touch. Bradley just hums and rolls his eyes, because he knows you well enough to tell when you actually mean it and when you don’t.

“You could be,” he reminds you. Then crooks his finger just enough to show you how devastatingly good it could be if he wasn’t set on edging an answer out of you.

You roll your hips trying to take more. To get him to give more. Anything to get you to that heady place again, where the only thing keeping you grounded in the moment is their bodies against yours.

“That’s it, sweetheart, keep riding his fingers.” Hangman’s hot gaze roams all over you as he crosses the room to sit down on the bed next to you. He reaches out and runs a big hand down your sternum, you arch into it offering more of yourself up to his touch. You know he’s feeling every jump of the muscles in your stomach under his heavy hand as he rests it in the soft space under your bellybutton.

You suck in a breath when Bradley teases you with a second finger. He only allows you one heartbeat of hope before he denies you that more, more, more you’re desperate for.

But he wasn’t the only one in the room capable of giving you exactly what you wanted.

“Jake, come on, fuck me.” You look up at him from under your lashes, hoping he’ll be the one to cave first.

“You’re a regular poet laurate, aren’t you,” Jake states, shaking his head at you.

You shoot him a glare. “I’ll write you a haiku later, just make me come.”

You feel a puff of air over your cunt from Rooster’s amused chuckle. It causes you to clench around his finger, but it’s not enough to get you there.

You try to reach for Hangman’s cock, still confined in the snug jeans he was wearing. He doesn’t even give you the chance to undo the top button before he catches your hand in his. “Nuh-uh, greedy girl, none of that.” Hangman presses the palm of your hand over his length, showing exactly what you’re being denied. “Not sure you’ve earned this, not after your disappearing act.”

“Not you too,” you pant. Weren’t sure if it was the weight on your chest or the sheer want of them that was making it hard for you to get a proper breath.

“Yes, me too. I don’t think you realize just how much you worried the old man,” Jake drawls, “You know that can’t be good for his heart.”

The old man between your trembling thighs takes the opportunity to rub his mustache over your needy clit, the friction of it almost makes you jump out of your too tight skin. And for an all too brief moment your mind blanks as need ricochets throughout your body, the only thing you can think of is how desperate you are to come.

Jake collects your other wrist in his warm hand and brings them up above your head. He leans over you, with your faces only a few inches apart you can smell the peppermint of his favorite mints on his breath.

“Leave them up there for me,” he murmurs. It’s a command that’s dressed up like a request.

He pauses a moment and searches your eyes, asking you a silent question with the resolved dip of his chin. You answer by curling your fingers into the edge of your mattress, it’s your first concession of the evening. The only one you’re planning on making.

Jake gives them a quick squeeze before he lets go, “Good girl.” His southern accent is smoother and richer than honey against your ear, it makes your toes curl in response.

“Oh, now you want to behave,” Bradley grumbles into your inner thigh, his slightly chapped lips scraping against your oversensitive skin. “Don’t forget, I’m still waiting for an answer, baby.”

His fingertip on your clit isn’t teasing anymore, now it feels like a taunt.

“Next question.” You dig your heel into his shoulder blade, urging him for more, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

Neither one of you are ready to fold.

You can feel the sweat starting to collect behind your knees where they’re resting over the overheated skin of Bradley’s shoulders as he alternates between slow, shallow thrusts and a featherlight touch of his calloused fingertip against your clit. Every now and then- if he’s feeling generous- he’ll treat you to his tongue, dipping out to taste and tease you.

Rooster takes his time in that thorough way of his to get your legs quivering and quaking. He keeps you teetering there, perfectly and precisely balanced on the edge. Not enough to get you off, but just enough to keep a steady flow of wetness dripping out of you. You don’t need to see his hand to know you’re making a mess out of him. Out of yourself. And probably out of your duvet.

Your body feels like a house of cards, just one breath away from toppling over. gust

“Jesus,” Jake says, his voice husky and rough, “I won’t ever get tired of seeing you like this.” His eyes feasting on your body that’s displayed just for their hungry gaze.

But he might, that voice in your head taunts you. They might.

You press your forehead into his denim covered thigh, it’s all too much and not enough all at once.

This wasn’t what you’d imagined when you’d invited them inside. You’d envisioned hand mussed hair and skin-on-skin and their flushed, satisfied faces. And so far, you were still the only one naked.

“You’re not… This isn’t…” Your fingers flex as your arms strain with the effort to keep them where they are raised above your head. “Why are you still dressed?” you hotly demand, not ready to forfeit this one-sided fight.

“I’m just here for the free show.” Hangman circles his finger lazily around your bellybutton. “You’ve been so determined to be so tight-lipped all night, but that pretty pussy of yours is sure making a lot of noise for a woman who hasn’t even been properly fucked yet.”

You’re hit with the realization that he’s giving you a taste of what you’d been dishing out since the moment they’d arrived, always one to give as good as he gets. It was just as hot as it was infuriating. Because that’s the thing about knowing how to push someone’s buttons was that they knew exactly how to push yours in return.

“You better watch your mout-ah.” You might have sounded almost convincing if Rooster hadn’t pumped three thick fingers into you suddenly, stretching and spreading you around them. You gasp and arch off the bed at the sensation. It’s the most he’s given you all night.

Jake tsks, flashing you his dimples. “But I’m having fun watching his mouth instead,” he says, nodding his head towards Bradley. “Speaking of, you got a little something on your chin there, Bradshaw.”

“That’s because arguing gets her wet.”

You can’t even deny it because the evidence is right there for them both to hear in the slick sound of him thrusting his fingers back into you. You press your head into the bed and try to arch your hips, but Jake’s firm hand pushes them back down, making you whine.

“Rooster, please, I just want to come.” And if it sounds like begging, it’s because you are now.

“And you know what I want, so it seems we’re at a stalemate.” You try to hitch your right leg open further, but Bradley hooks his arm around your thigh and pulls it back in, keeping you in place. “Baby, I’ve got all the time in the world. I’m a patient man. For as much fun as I’m having here trying to get an answer out of you, I’d much rather be coaxing orgasms from you instead.”

The frustration swells and crests inside of you. You’re tired of being toyed with when all you’d wanted was to not have to think for a while.

“Bradley, you can’t seriously expect me to want to have a damn heart-to-heart when your fingers are literally inside of me,” you fume.

“Ok, then.” He pins you with a pointed look and withdraws them, finally calling your bluff. “Can you please tell us what the hell is going on now?”

Jake tips your chin up to look at him, the congeniality replaced on his face with seriousness. “As much as I try to avoid agreeing with him, I think you owe us an explanation for why you left without saying a single word to either one of us, darlin’.”

“I didn’t realize I answered to you,” you say, haughtily. Not proud of yourself for getting short with them when they don’t deserve the heat of your irritation.  

His eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Hey now, you know it’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then, Jake? It’s not like you’re-” you cut yourself off, pressing your lips tightly together.

Of course he doesn’t let it slide. “We’re not what?”

Him and Rooster exchange a look over the top of you when you don’t elaborate further, some unspoken understanding passing between them. The mood between the three of you shifting immediately.

Hangman tugs you up just enough for him to maneuver himself behind you and cradles you back against his chest, his arms winding themselves around your waist. As Bradley rests his chin on top of your thigh, his thumb making soothing circles on the swell of your hip, “We’re not what, baby?” And you’re not sure you’ve ever heard his raspy voice so soft before.  

The silence stretches as you war with yourself. They know you well enough to know you need a moment. You’d made a career for yourself knowing the right words- the strategic kind- but when it came to communicating your feelings, you’d always found it so much harder to string them together.

This is the exact conversation you’d been trying so hard to run from, but you didn’t want to play games with them anymore.

Sharing your emotions makes you feel a thousand times more vulnerable than being naked in front of them ever has. With them you feel sexy and powerful and wanted, especially when you’re pressed between them like you are now. It’s a different kind of intimacy entirely letting them see the confusing mess of what’s going on inside your mind.

“Does this have anything to do with Rooster teasing you about being jealous earlier tonight?” Hangman asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Because you should know by now that I only have eyes for one girl.”

And there it is- bullseye. 

Your gaze slides over to Bradley, “You told him about that?” He shrugs a broad shoulder, which jostles the thigh that’s still draped over it.

“He was concerned when we realized you weren’t at the Hard Deck anymore, we both were.” Jake cups your cheek and turns your face back to him, encouraging you to rest your head on his shoulder.  “I asked him to fill me in on what I’d missed, because I thought we were having a good night up until I came back from the bar to learn you weren’t anywhere to be found and not answering your phone.”

The wave of guilt that washes over you makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. You’d been so inside your own head that you hadn’t taken even a moment to think about how they’d feel about your impulsive retreat. At the very least, you should have sent a text before turning off your phone.

You chew on your lower lip for a moment, before speaking, your voice quiet and tentative, “You can’t be jealous when you don’t have any real claim to someone.”

It’s not like you can be frustrated at anyone other than yourself. You were the one who wanted to try and keep things discreet. Casual. Because of your job and theirs. People talked enough on their own without you wanting to give them any more fuel to add to the smoking embers.

The rumors of your favorite aviators’ hook up had followed them for years since that first time it happened in Florida, just not many people knew that it had been you from the very start. You’d all kept in touch, but infrequent nights spent tangled in sheets before returning back to your real life was different than all of you being stationed together for the foreseeable future.

The ambiguity of what you all were to each other had chafed at you tonight in a way it never has before. It wasn’t something that you’d all talked about together before. After seeing the interest on the other woman’s face, you couldn’t deny that her and Jake had looked good together. But what you’d been most struck by was just how content and at ease he looked leaning there with an elbow at the bar.

It wasn’t a secret those closest to you all there was something going on between the three of you. After all, Bradley was affectionate and Jake was objectively the least subtle man on the planet. It wasn’t something you were hiding; it just wasn’t something you were actively trying to broadcast to all of NAS North Island.

But for the most part, they’d been following your lead since they knew you liked to keep your cards close to your chest. And while you liked to consider yourself an enigma, they were both looking at you right now like you were a book that only they were fluent in reading.

“‘Real claim’,” Jake repeats back to you, slowly. Like he’s not believing what he’s hearing. “Oh darlin’, where’d you get that idea?”

“Is that what this is all about?” Rooster’s eyes are intense as he looks at you. “Just because we’ve been keeping things casual doesn’t mean this thing between all of us isn’t the real deal. I’m not seeing or sleeping with anyone else. And I don’t want to.”

“I’m not either,” Hangman adds, running his hands along your sides. “I’ve got my hands more than full with you and I like it that way.”

You knew that they weren’t and they knew you weren’t too. Sex has always been the easier thing to talk about. That particular discussion had ended with the mix of their cum dripping out of you and too many orgasms to count.

But what happened if having fun turned into wanting more. You didn’t know how long they’d be fine with this dynamic, with splitting time and attention.

You look from one to the other. From green to brown. “And you’re both truly fine with sharing? I need you to be really honest with me.”

Bradley tilts his head at you, and asks, “You don’t think we’ve talked about this before?”

A surprised laugh almost slips out of you at the mental image of them hashing out their feelings during the commercials between some game on TV, but he’s looking at you so thoughtfully that you know he’s being entirely serious. The fact that this was something they’d already discussed between themselves on their own was news to you, especially considering you felt like you could barely get the words out yourself.

“I had no idea,” you admit, not sure whether to feel sheepish or not.

Jake tangles the fingers of your right hands together. “The way I see it is that even when you’re not with me, I know you’re with someone I know and trust, who cares about you just as much as I do. Someone who’s going to look out for you the same way that I would.”

You almost expect him to tack on a joke at Rooster’s expense at the end, a bit of banter or something to liven the mood, but he doesn’t. And the weight of his words sinks into you.

“And when we’re together? When it’s the three of us?” You reach out with your other hand to run your thumb along Bradley’s jaw, needing to touch him too.

“You know us pilots, we’re a competitive bunch. But we also work as well on our own as we do as a team.” Bradley explains, running his hands along the outside of your legs. “And what we do here together with you, it just feels like an extension of how we are up there.” Jake squeezes your hand in agreement.

“But how is this going to work? It’s already complicated enough when there are only two people in the equation.”

“You’re the one calling the shots here. You’re in charge and always have been ever since that first time in Pensacola,” Rooster reminds you. “We’re both here because we don’t want anyone else. This doesn’t need to be complicated. Whether you’re with him or with me or we’re all together. It’s already working just fine when you aren’t going ghost on us and ditching us without saying a word.”

You know you’re going to have to make it up to him. For as confident and sure of himself as Bradley Bradshaw is, you know the spots where he’s tender and tonight you were careless with them. You’re just grateful he’s going to give you the chance to make things right by him.

“We’re good. This is good,” Jake promises, leaning his forehead against your temple.

You feel like your heart might burst from the sheer affection you have for the two of them.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” you say, apologetically.

Hangman’s lips skim your cheek. “It’s water under the bridge, darlin’. But if you need space, tell us. Don’t just cut us off like that, ok?” You nod in agreement. “So what do you need from us? Do you want to call us your boyfriends?”

“I think I just…” You pause to mull over your words. They already were in all the ways that mattered, you just weren’t sure whether you were ready to define it entirely. At least not yet. “I think I just need to know that you’re happy. Just like this. With how we’ve been doing things.”

“Baby.” Bradley croons. So sweetly, so indulgently. And you get the first real smile you’ve seen from him since he arrived on your doorstep. It’s your turn to smile when he drops a kiss to the top of your thigh. “Are you happy?”

The answer is easy.

“Yes.”

He looks over at Jake. “And are you?”

Jake has his chin propped up on your shoulder. “I’m happy,” he confirms, kissing the spot behind your ear that always makes you shiver deliciously.

“And I definitely don’t have anything to complain about.” Rooster says, gesturing to his spot between your legs. You lightly tug on his hair and he laughs. “Yes, sweetheart, I’m happy too.” He reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“So I was the only one overthinking things?”

“You sure were,” Hangman agrees, “You and that big brain of yours.” He trails open-mouth kisses up your neck. “Now have you straightened out your shit or are we going to have to do it for you?” he asks into the shell of your ear. You can feel the grin he’s wearing, and you’re positive if you turned to look at him you’d see those dimples of his.

“No promises,” you sing.

Because where’s the fun in that?

“There she is,” Bradley murmurs, honeyed and soft. A sigh escapes you when you feel his tongue along the inside of your thigh, even as your heart starts to race.

“That’s our girl.” Jake tips your head back, lips a whisper away from yours and desire reflected in his green eyes. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to kiss me until he makes you come. And then I’m going to fuck the attitude out of you while you apologize to Rooster for being so mouthy. We’re gonna remind you what it’s like to have two aviators wrapped around your little finger. Sound good?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply as he slips his tongue into your mouth at the same time Bradley licks into you. And you know this time you won’t have to beg for an orgasm, you’ll probably have to beg them to stop serving you them.

You feel yourself melt into them. The tension you’d been carrying since even before the bar fades with every one of their touches. Happy and content in knowing that they’re yours just as much as you are theirs.

And true to his word, you’re kissed through an orgasm. And another. And another.

That night, there are two mouths that never leave your body once.

Two sets of hands that are just as capable of keeping you grounded as they are giving you pleasure.

Two warm, strong bodies that give and take then hold you throughout the night.

Two men who- one day very soon - might possibly share your whole heart.

Many thanks to the person who sent me this ask! I had fun writing this one! Thank you for reading!

Many thanks to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse ) as always!

If you want more of them, here is the fic that started it all!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[valleynix]

OMGGGGG???? YOU REPLIED!!!! I’m easily excitable sorry 😀😀😀 anyways don’t worry about being biased because I definitely won’t complain 😏😏😏 the sisters are my absolute fav.

AHHHH GETTING OFF OF WORK AND READING MORE IS LIKE MY FAVORITE THING EVER, like all I think about at work is your story, the brain rot is real.

I HAVENT read more yet so I have nothing more to add but I just wanted to express my immense joy at you responding lol

AAAAAA I ALWAYS TRY TO!!! sometimes i forget because i’m easily distracted but i like replying to y’all and hearing what you have to say </3 it literally makes my entire day. AND VERY GLAD TO HEAR THAT!! i have some upcoming Alcina scenes planned but i’m pretty sure she’s got some really soft ones close to where you are?? i can’t really remember 😔

THIS IS SO FUNNY BC GETTING OFF WORK AND WRITING IS MY FAVORITE THING 😭 working like a 7-8 hour shift with my thoughts INFESTED with soft and/or angsty thoughts… URGH. hearing about the brain rot of this story makes me genuinely so happy that i want to cry PLEASE

GOOD LUCK READING!! hopefully nothing will be too bad where you’re at and you’ll still enjoy it <3333

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Head over feet

ʚ  Pairing:  Thranduil x Fem. Reader

ʚ Word count: 2033 words 

ʚ Themes: Fluff | Soft

ʚ Summary : After catching the King’s interest, you have been invited to stay in his halls. What plan does he actually have for you? 

Author's notes: This was inspired by the Alanis Morissette song, which I absolutely adore.

The sun was streaming through the windows when you finally opened your eyes. A new day had dawned in Mirkwood, and you feel lazy despite the cheerful sunshine outside. Someone hummed behind a screen. It must have been Elirien, your lady-in-waiting, preparing your bath.  

"I still can’t believe I’m here." You toss your pelt aside and stare up at the gilded ceiling. "Me. Of all people."

Elirien smirked as she busied herself fixing your bath. "Shocked that you’re here, or shocked that the Elvenking invited you, out of all the others?"

"Both, truth be told," you sit and rub the sleep out of your eyes, taking a deep breath and sighing contentedly when wisps of orange fill your lungs. The incense he had sent over last night helped you immensely with sleep. "I mean, I was invited by him. Him." You whisper through your teeth as she comes over to you with your bathrobe. "Thranduil Oropherion! I want to pinch myself sometimes, to make sure that I’m not—owww!"

"Won’t leave a mark." Your handmaid inspected your arm. "And now you know you’re not dreaming."

Your eyes narrowed to little slits. "Oh, how I hate you." 

"You say that my lady, but deep down, you know you love me and would be a lost cause without me."

You rub your arm, trying hard not to grin, "But why me?"

Why you, indeed? Thranduil had met several eligible ladies at a feast a few weeks ago but had only sought you out. He’d send little notes to you, little tokens and gifts just because. He even invited you to stay in his halls with him. That was something that he hadn’t done for anyone besides a select few friends of his.

"Maybe he’s smitten," said Elirien as she carefully laid out your outfit for the day. "Now, hurry up before your bath grows cold."

"But how can he be smitten, Eli?" The sigh of contentment rose from your toes the moment you slipped into the warm, fragrant water. "It’s only been a few weeks."

"That’s enough for some people," she said. "And the king is two thousand years old. I’m sure an ellon his age knows exactly what he wants."

She had a point. "Hmph." You play with the water, watching little ripples form every time your fingers move across the surface. "I guess that’s true. What should I do though?"

"Let him win you over." The grin came easily enough. "It’s what you want, yes? And please don’t lie to me, my lady. I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think no one is looking."

Your lady and her sharp eyes. "You know me too well, I think," you retort. "Anyway, what makes you think he wants to win me over?" you say defensively. "For all we know, Thranduil is just being a generous host."

"That’s because I have seen the way he has been looking at you, my lady," she hummed. "And the way he looks at you… mmm-mmm. I would give anything to have someone look at me like that."

Your protest dies on your tongue. You too have occasionally caught the looks, the winks that made your stomach get all tied up in knots and your heart hammer away in your chest. It felt as if the King had eyes for no one else but you. "Urgh. When you’re right, you’re right. "

How Elirien smirked in triumph. "I’m right because I’m always right. Why have you not realized that?"

That cocky grin you knew so well brought a smile out of you. "My goodness, woman, your arrogance is astounding."

Her retort vanished when someone knocked on the door. It was one of the King’s aides.

"What is that?"

"A posy," she said as she brought a crystal vase filled with cheerful blooms. All your favorite flowers. "And a note."

While she arranged the vase, you read the note.

My dearest,

I hope your morning has been wonderful thus far.

I have some free time during the next few hours, and I would like to show you around the gardens. You have not seen it yet, have you? It’s quite beautiful this time of year, and there is a little maze that I’m sure you’d love to explore.

Afterward, I was hoping you’d join me for breakfast in the library. It’s quiet there, and we can talk peacefully, away from the chaos of the day.

I’ll be waiting for you at the entrance of the gardens. Alphanar, my aide, will show you where it is.

Until then,

Namárië

T

"He. Is. Smitten." Said Elirien. "From lady y/n to dear y/n to my dearest in such a short spell?" She tilts her head and goes over the letter. "I’d wager it won’t be long before he starts calling you meleth and proposes to you."

"It’s a long way from my dearest to meleth." You retort. "And a much longer way from will you walk with me to saying I do. Besides, Thranduil can still change his mind."

"I highly doubt he’ll change his mind." She tuts and lifts your chin. "Thranduil has been introduced to many eligible ladies, yet he has only ever sought your company. I'm--"

You interrupt her and mutter. "Still odd, if you ask me."

"I’m not finished." Elirien shot back gently. She waits until you finish your grumbling. "You are the one he invited to stay here, in his halls, with him. He goes out of his way to ensure your happiness and comfort. He stops whatever he’s doing just to listen to you. He has eyes for no one but you. If those are not signs of his attachment to you, then I don’t know what is."

Thranduil would indeed go out of his way for you, sometimes rearranging his own schedules so he could spend more time with you. There are times when you’re not even sure if he’s listening, but he always surprises you in the end. 

"Perhaps you’re right," you said, getting out of the tub. "Right. Let’s get me presentable for the king."

After getting dressed, you take a good, deep breath, to steady your nerves. When Alphanar stopped by, you follow him to the gardens.

                                                  🍂🍂🍂

Thranduil had been pacing near the entrance, just as nervous as you. Tauriel, his captain, watched him walk impatiently with barely disguised amusement. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Tauriel snickered and went back to an apple she was eating. "Very much, your grace. I mean, it’s not every day one gets to see the Elvenking all tied up in knots."

Tied up in knots. If only she knew. "Where do you think lady y/n is?" Thranduil asked with an impatient breath. "Do you think she changed her mind?"

She shook her head. "I doubt she has, your grace. Be patient."

He harrumphed and went back to pacing. Thranduil had been eager to show you the gardens. Because it meant spending time with you. Because he loved being around you. Because he...

Thranduil sighed and held onto the garden railing. "I'm done for, aren't I?" 

"It's been obvious to us all, your grace," Tauriel said evenly. "For more than a few days now. You love her. It's plain as day."

The words made a wave of deep yearning wash over him. "I'm not as subtle as I thought." 

"No, your grace, you're not." Tauriel looked up when she heard a door open. "And since your girl is here, you can stop your pacing. The grass will thank you for it." 

"Thank you." Thranduil squeaked and narrowed his eyes. "Now scatter."

His captain chuckled and walked off after greeting you. "Your Majesty," you say as you try not to stare. The king had been garbed in red velvet and gold and looked resplendent this morning. He smiled and helped you to your feet. "Thranduil, please."

"Thranduil." Wait. Did he blush when you said his name? 

Thranduil fought for composure. The sight of you was enough to make butterflies flutter in his stomach and his mind go blank for all else. He took several deep breaths to regain control of his already twisted tongue. You deserved a king, not a bumbling elfling. "Shall we?" He extended an arm, waiting for you to link yours through his before the both of you took off.

"How was your night, y/n?" He asked companionably enough. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," you say with a smile. "The incense you sent was extremely helpful. Thank you."

"I'm glad." Beaming, the King led you along the paths that were so familiar to him. He hoped you too would grow to love the place he called home. "And how are your brothers? Did any of them succeed in that archery contest?"

You were stunned that he even remembered you prattling on about your brothers and their antics in your father's army. "Sadly, no. My best friend’s brother did. My own brothers wrote to complain about horrible bows and lousy arrows. The youngest kept complaining of the sun getting in his eyes." You stop and think. "Come to think about it, he always complains about the sun getting in his eyes." 

Thranduil's chest rumbled even as he laughed. "I must confess, I too sometimes blame the sun, but my warriors don't hold it against me."

"The great Elvenking blaming the sun?" You laid hands on your cheeks and feigned shock. "What must your warriors think of you, sir?"

His laughter sounded so sweet to your ears. "A question that will keep me awake many a night, I assure you." Thranduil grew serious as he led you to the maze. He wanted to gauge how you truly felt about life in Mirkwood, as your happiness here was of the utmost importance to him. "How do you find life here, y/n?" he asked finally. "Is it-- is it to your liking?"

"I do," you said, looking around. The gardens were breathtaking, and the flowers provided a riot of colour that appealed to your heart. You could see yourself living here for good with Thranduil, but Thranduil had to ask himself. "I love everything here."

"Love it enough to live here for good?" he asked hopefully. "What I mean is, would you--would you consider living here for good-- with me?" 

You look at him, discreetly pinching yourself to make sure you're not imagining things. The twinge in your arm convinced you that you were not imagining things and that the king wanted you to stay with him.

The king wanted you to stay with him. Did that mean he was going to ask what you think he was going to ask? "You want me to stay here with you?" 

Thranduil groaned inside, for this should have been so easy. He grew incredibly nervous, even gulping so loudly that you actually heard it. "Thranduil is eve..."

He stopped, straightened his spine, and took your hand in his. He was no blithering elfling, and he wasn't going to act like one in your presence. "I love you y/n. I'm in love with you."

"I-- I have searched for my other half for longer than I can remember," he continued, his voice trembling. "And that night, when we were introduced, my heart rejoiced, for my search was over. My other half is you. It has always been you. I love you, y/n. I will always love you. Meleth," You gasp as he took the final step needed when it came to his feelings for you. "Will you-- will you have me for your own?"

Blue eyes looked into yours with such hope. You seriously consider what you were going to say. Marriage was a big deal after all. 

And you’d be married to the Elvenking, it couldn’t get bigger than that. 

Fingers tracing lines along your knuckles reminded you that Thranduil was probably expecting an answer. And he was. More than anything. 

You look around you again. You'd be happy here. You could see yourself happy with him. You could definitely see yourself falling in love with him. Or perhaps, you already were?

"Yes." Overjoyed, Thranduil pulled you into a hug before giving you a kiss. "My answer is yes." 

[finniestoncrane]

Heya! Could I please request a lil cute fic about reader telling Oz that they are pregnant? Thanks.

I really love your Oz stories 🐧 ♥

Chick

Farrell!Penguin x Female!Reader, word count: 1k ok yeah i got soft for this, i didn't think it would be my thing, but like i'll do anything for ozzie ;-; request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: pregnancy, afab female reader, mostly fluff

His staff had let you in almost an hour ago, and you’d been sitting at his desk since then, waiting patiently. Or impatiently, you realised, when you noticed that you scribbled so mindlessly and with such pressure that you had gone through the scrap of paper and had managed to get ink and lines onto the no doubt expensive wood veneer of the desk. Oswald Cobblepot’s desk.

It still made you a little bit nervous to think of him as anyone other than Oz, Ozzy, your sweet, affectionate…boyfriend felt too juvenile of a term, he was older, more sophisticated. He was your…not partner, because to be honest you weren’t sure he thought of you as anything more than a fling. Sometimes, behind the smile you wore permanently when you were with him, you were concealing the worry that you were just someone to have on his arm, a trophy, some kind of status symbol among his friends and colleagues.

And now you were here about to deliver the worst news.

“Hush money? Will he offer to pay you discreetly forever? Is he going to have strong opinions on keeping it or not? Do I have strong opinions? Always wanted a kid…one that’s set for life wouldn’t be so bad. But then what if he wants nothing to do with it, them…us?”

“Hey, sweetheart! I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, you been here long?”

Oswald burst into the room, jovial, charming, his presence enough to calm you usually, but now it made your stomach tighten, goosebumps forming on your flesh and a lump growing in your throat. It was difficult to look at him, but you persevered, desperate to keep things mellow, not wanting to rush yourself into delivering the news to him.

“Come sit with me, baby.”

“Urgh, had to be baby.”

You took a seat beside him, his hand instantly on your knee, the other stroking your cheek.

“Where are my manners, can I get you a drink?”

You shook your head, opening your mouth and finding that no sound was coming out.

“Hey, sweetheart, you don’t look so good…you ok?”

Again, silence, as you nodded to him, trying to force a smile onto your mouth but feeling the light sting of tears.

“Woah…oh, oh no, hey.” He shushed you as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “What’s going on, kid?”

“Kid. Baby. Fuck.”

“Nothing, Oz…I’m…nothing.”

“Come on! You think I’m stupid?” Looking up at him, his smile still warm, gold tooth glinting mischievously, echoing the glint in his eyes he had when he stared at you. “Tell me what’s wrong, I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix everything, Oswald.”

A look of concern crossed his face. A mistake, calling him Oswald. You never did that. Not in the seven months you had been him, not after your first kiss when you had breathily uttered it while he held your hands.

“I suppose you might be right. But I can fix you a drink. What you having?”

“Oz, I don’t…”

“What? You’re not gonna join me? You always do.”

“I can’t, Ozzie.”

“Oh, now you can’t? Who says? How come you can’t have a drink with Ozzie? These some new rules you’re self-imposing becau-”

“I can’t because I’m pregnant.”

It just came out. Frustration at his questioning, that he wasn’t listening to you, or that you were having to lie to him? Whatever the reason, you had blurted it out into the room and immediately hidden your face into your hands, sobbing heavily at the realisation of it all. As though reality had only really settled when you had finally confessed to him.

As you sat, shielding your red face and sad, gilt-ridden eyes from the world, Oswald spoke from somewhere beside you.

“You sure?”

A sniffling mumble of a yes managed to get out, but you were nodding, so you assumed he understood your answer.

“Doctor or a test?”

“Both.” You rubbed your nose on your arm, Oz’s hand suddenly in front of your face, offering you a handkerchief.

“And I hate to ask, sweetheart. I really do. But we never…talked about…I mean, I’m one to practice exclusivity but there was no need for you to-”

“Definitely yours.”

You stared straight ahead at the wall, only aware of him in your peripheral. Swallowing your nerves, fists clenched around the handkerchief he had offered, you waited for him to speak, and you waited a long time.

“Well, I’m gonna have a drink.”

That was it. That was all he had to say? And you couldn’t blame him. A stiff drink really would help to take away the shock, the pain of this revelation. From his desk, you heard him open the little cabinet where he kept his best glasses and liquor. You waited for the familiar sounds of the ice clinking, the pour of the thick liquid into the crystal glass. But there was a sharp clink and a loud pop.

You turned at the sound, looking at Oz who stood by his desk pouring champagne into a glass.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I know it’s rude drinking while you can’t, but I’m not going to light a cigar around you and this is…this is some news!”

“You’re…ok?”

“Ok? Kid! Were you worried I’d be anything less than over the moon?”

“Oz…I was so worried.”

“Mia amata! I’ve got you, and now to boot I got a smaller version of you coming too?”

He stepped to you, taking your hand and easing you up.

“Careful, easy.”

“Oz, I’m nowhere near far enough along to be delicate.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You’re gonna be lucky if I let you walk anywhere. I might carry you everywhere, bridal style. Which speaking of…you got less of a reason to say no to me now when that comes!”

Laughing at his own dumb joke, he smiled wide, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, holding you close and stroking your hair.

“You’re definitely ok…happy?”

“Course I am, sugar. And now you’re stuck with me.”

[seitmai]

So many thoughts so I'm gonna utilize the read more function

“Your socks are inside-out,” was the first thing he said. His voice was quiet and kind, like he was trying not to embarrass you. He pointed at the threads hanging off of the seams. You nervously tucked your hands behind your back. “I know. I like them to be.” He accepted the statement, pulling his hand back and planting it nervously on his hip.

Urgh what a cute first little interaction 🥰

Again, he raked his gaze over the creek in front of him like he was trying to see exactly into your mind. He gave his sword an experimental swing, and you laughed from beside him. “You hit him! Keep going, we’ve almost won.” His eyes lit up, and he began fighting like he saw it too. He smiled, and you cheered him on, making sure to fend off your own opponent. The creek bubbled, and he could hear the ocean roaring. He could see the flag flying high above his head, the ship across the ocean, could hear the ‘shing’ and ‘swish’ of his sword. And he saw you, warm and full of life, immersed in this world you had created. He didn’t think he had seen anything quite so pretty.

Ahh that's so cool! I love how seamless he fit into her fantasy world and he got into it so fast 🥰

Sometimes, and this was his favorite game, he would be a pilot in the military, and you would be the person giving him instructions on the ground. He would shoot his arms out like airplane wings and soar, causing you to collapse into giggles on his soft rug. You formed a bond with him like no other. By the end of the summer, you knew him inside and out, and he knew you too.

First of all, what a great glimpse into Bobby's future 🤭 second, this is true friendship playing these imaginary games is something for true friends 🥰

And he knew that you were the most creative person he’d ever met, there was a monster that lived in your house, you had never broken a bone, and your eyes shone if the light hit them at the right angle. 

You can not tell me that he has not a crush already then and there 🥰

Afterwards, when she was done with her rampage, she’d sweep up the pieces and put everything back together. She would spell out notes for you in the fridge magnets. She would open your door, just a crack, and whisper, “I love you, baby. I’m sorry.” with a blown kiss. You knew she was sorry. You knew she loved you, that she kept the cabinets stocked with the snacks you liked from two years ago, around the time she first started drinking. There was nothing you knew more than how bad she felt for treating you like she did. In your mind, you forgave her. She was doing her best. That didn’t stop you from wishing you lived in Bobby’s little house, with his kind and loving mother and stern but kindhearted father. You wished for pirates and pilots and blueberry syrup. 

💔💔💔

You were scared that Bobby would find his own trouble here. He was quiet, and that made him a target. He was too kind, too caring, too good at blending into the background. 

Too kind and too caring 🥺😭

He held out a silent hand, and you gripped it in yours. His hands were bigger, warm and slick with a thin sheen of nervous sweat. Knowing someone else was going through the day with you was a quiet comfort, so you met his wavering eyes and smiled.

They are gonna do it together 🥹

“He must be mean,” The boy beside you said, finishing off the last bite of his sandwich. He never chewed with his mouth open, you noticed. He kept it neat and tidy. “Anyone who picks on you has got to be.”

I'm crying 😭 he's just so sweet 🥹

He could sit there and watch you eat forever if it meant you smiled like you were doing now. “You make me feel good too, like I can’t stop being happy.”

I can't with this sweetness 🥹😭🥰

When he was around, you felt like you could fly. Every dandelion, 11:11, shooting star, fallen eyelash, they all went to trying to keep him in your life.

😭🥹😭🥹

Despite being quiet, he would puff up his chest and stand strong in the face of any adversity. Mostly, though, he stood up for you. He would pick up your books, help you turn scribbles into twisting dragons, and make you new flower crowns when Brady tried anything during recess. Bobby cared. In a sense, though neither of you knew what the word really meant, he loved you. So he took care of you, and you filled his life with so much wonder and joy that he wished he could be with you forever.

He cared which is his way to show his love 😭🥹

You seemed like an angel perched on the tile counter. He couldn’t see the exactness of your details, like the curves of your lips, but you had a form that he could recognize anywhere. The shade of your hair, the sparkle in your eye. He would carry those memories for as long as he lived. What worried him was that he didn’t know exactly how far away from him you were sitting. So, because he didn’t trust himself to not miss his eyes, and because he trusted you like he trusted his heart to beat, he agreed.

He trusts so deeply, it really seems like with his whole body 🥹🥰

“Well, yeah. Could you help me with the other now?” He probably didn’t need much help this time, given that one half of him had 20/20 vision, but he liked feeling your hand on his. He liked being helped by you. It was a revelation for him, who had always been a bit of an independent spirit.

Ahhh that's so cute that he gets to know more of himself through her and their closeness and friendship 🥰

She was perfect. She deserved someone like Robert, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

🥺🥺🥺

“No idea. He’s never kissed anyone.” He could be good, maybe. Everything he did was soft and methodical, so just the idea of him capturing a person’s lips with his own, his calloused hand resting on the back of their head… no, you couldn’t think about it.

Getting lost in thoughts about kissing Robert Floyd is relatable 🤭

When it was just you and him, things were different. You were the only one he let call him “Bobby” and play with his fingers when you were nervous. He even let you ruffle his hair, despite him spending half an hour in his bathroom trying to get each strand to lay perfectly.

I love what they have 🥹

“I just gotta change out of this and then we’ll be ready.” You gave a small twirl, and Robert choked on air. “It’s too expensive, but it’s nice to dream,” you said with a small grin. You didn’t know if it reached your eyes or not, but you knew the boy wouldn’t call you out for it. Not in public, at least.

He's the best 🥺

Before anything else, though, you looked happy in the dress. Sad that you had to leave it, but it made you happy. Robert was nothing if not a sucker for seeing you happy.

I can't with him 🫠🥰🥹

As he took the gift from you, he could feel a significant heft to the package. “I’d like anything if it was from you. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

He is just and old, gentle soul in a teenagers body 🥹

It was the dress you had wanted at the mall. The one that had fit you perfectly, and the one that Margie had almost taken from you. You hugged it to your chest. “Thank you, Bobby, thank you. I love it so much.” Your voice was quiet, brimming with emotion. He just opened his arms, and you dove into them, the both of you uncaring of the tear marks that would form on his thick jacket. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You exclaimed, louder this time, but still muffled by his chest. He just laughed and pulled you in closer. “You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome.”

I had tears in my eyes reading this 🥹🥰

That meant more to you than anything else could have. Not only did he notice what you liked, he bought it when you couldn’t. It was more than just a gift. 

This!!!🥹🫶🏻

Rob read right along with you, keeping your pace perfectly. You never needed to ask him when he wanted you to turn the pages—it was like your eyes read at the same speed, your brains processing the same things.

That's like a friendship superpower tbh

It just made sense. Margie liked Aaron, and Aaron didn’t like girls. He didn’t even have to explain fully, you and Rob just hugged his shaking form. There was a very hushed, heartfelt talk after that. The fact of the matter was, you and your friends loved Aaron, and that was just a new fact about him for you to love. It also surprised you a little. When anyone, you included, presented the group with a new side of them, they were accepted with open arms. 

I love the little group they have 🥰

He hated seeing you like that. Brady didn’t deserve to make you cry. No one did, not even yourself. He wanted to pull you under his covers and let you sigh into his shirt, like always. He wanted you to forget about everything and just hold on to him.

🥺🥺🥺

Instead of going to the dance, however, you and your friends spent the night at a diner. The place had a playplace definitely designed and designated for little kids, but that didn’t stop you from climbing up the sides and playing a good old game of tag.

Sounds like a fun way to spent prom night imo 🤷🏻‍♀️

 He tensed, eyes flicking across your face. He seemed like he was considering something. He had a concentrated look on his face, weighing the pros and cons. You had seen that face numerous times in the past, but right now, it confused you. Before he could think any better of it, and before he could get in his head about his newfound impulsivity, he opened his mouth. “Is kissing you within reason?”

 Warm, soft, a bit of teeth, but that didn’t matter. You felt like you were flying. Your dream finally came true—the one where you had his loving touch, where you melted into his arms like he would be able to hold you together. You prayed to anyone that would listen to never let you wake up.

🥰🥰🥰

Telling Aaron was easier. He looked at you with a knowing smile and then nodded, satisfied that you had both pulled your heads out of your asses long enough to realize you were in love with each other.

Haha he's so real for that

Bobby didn’t quite know how to go about informing his family, so he decided on inviting you over for dinner and giving a whole, uninterrupted speech about how he wanted to let them know that you were more than just a friend now. His little sister, Jodie, just rolled her eyes and said, “We know.” He reddened under their laughter, but his hand was firm in holding yours under the table. 

Jodie hahahah a true little sister move 😅

You knew him to be kind, gentle, and smart, but everything was amplified tenfold over the summer before your senior year. He held you with a special determination, never hiding how much he loved you through touch alone. He pulled you away from Brady whenever he approached, letting you hold his hand instead of looking at him. You saw a side of him that he kept carefully locked away. 

And, man, did he work out. He was getting a bit big for his clothing, his arms pushing against the fabric of his shirt, and chest noticeably straining against the cloth. You pulled your eyes away from his body, face a little warm when you noticed he noticed.

👀😉😏

“Carry me? You would probably break your back.” he scoffed, somewhat shyly. You didn’t even know a person could scoff shyly, but he was the king of consistency; he did everything with that little bashful tilt of his head.

And we adore that little shy consistency

Throughout the reminiscence, his hand was held tightly in yours, and his eyes sometimes watered. It took everything in you to not sob at the idea of not being able to form these kinds of memories with him. It was kind of your last-ditch effort to truly be with him, in a way that no one else could be, before school started up again. You knew that soon, you would be stuck in class, and after that… after that, there were but a few brief weeks until he had to leave. You hadn’t been apart from him since you met, and each new day ticked down like a massive, ominous clock. You would just have to wait for him to return, as you waited for him to arrive in the first place.

🥺🥺🥺

 I miss your humor, your laugh, and your smile. I miss feeling your thumb rubbing the back of my hand when you get bored. I miss smelling your shampoo, and I miss kissing you. I wish I had snuck some of your perfume in with me along with the photos, but that might be too sappy of me. I’d get made fun of relentlessly if this email were to fall into the wrong hands, but I don’t care anymore. Oh, I miss home, too, so visit my family when you have the chance. Tell me everything.

P.S.: Mickey wanted to say hi, so I let him have the keyboard for a few seconds. Bob is such a sap about u, Hometown Girl, I send my deepest sympathies. Also HELLO! -That was Mickey. Expect a message from him every email from now on, because he won’t stop threatening to tape my socks to the ceiling??

Hahaha Mickey 😂

As his education progressed, though, his eyesight kept him from doing the one thing he truly wanted to do: be a pilot. He just missed the requirement, as he explained in a short, sad email after his eye test. It was crushing, to say the least, but Bob bounced back quickly. He always did. He was never one to sit and mope about a problem, no, he took the next best thing. He began training to be a weapon systems officer, and he was damn good at it.

I love how is such a problem-solver and always so positive!

The one thing that didn’t change was his love. He was still goofy, nerdy, and kind. His skin may have been tougher, after years of being hardened by the world around him, but he took the time to care for the people in his life. He people-watched, just as he always did, and called you every sweet nickname that would get anyone lesser embarrassed. He still blushed like a madman, whether it was from pulling Gs or your tight hugs. And, which may just be the best thing he kept, he maintained his loyalty to the people in his past.

🥰🥰🥰

The uproar of the people around you filled your ears as you pulled the flowers to your chest. The crowd parted, and Margie came barrelling towards you, wrapping you in her lacy arms. “Yes! I just knew you would catch it, I always do. You’ve got to help me plan the wedding when it happens, because I know it will, and you’re going to need the perfect dress and the perfect venue and the prettiest invitations and…”

Margie practiced in secret before the wedding to have the perfect aim throwing backwards haha

He put one of your hands on his chest, over his fluttering heart, and pressed a gentle kiss to the other. “There’s something I need to ask you.” You nodded, too concerned to speak. “I’ll… I’ll start with this. I love you so much it hurts me. When I first met you, years ago, I knew that I wanted to be around you forever. Your kindness, curiosity, your heart, everything just pulled me in and never let me go—not that I ever wanted to go, no, I knew you were too special to leave behind. I had to put so much in the past, but not you. Never you. I grew with you, and laughed with you, and loved you in a million ways. Throughout all that time, you waited and gave me your utmost support when my dreams took me a thousand miles away. Now, I’m still living a thousand miles away, but I don’t want you to wait here anymore. I want you to come with me and stay.” He took a breath, and his heart hammered under your fingertips. “What I’m really trying to get at is that I want to have a future with you. I want to be your husband.”

No words, just sobbing happy tears 😭🥰😭🥰

The meticulous planning from the people who know your routines best still makes your head spin when you think about it. They all knew about the proposal for at least a week before it happened, and they made sure it was absolutely perfect, down to the manicured background and time of day. Bob even managed to get away from work for a couple days to propose.

I love how both families got involved and made this proposal even more special and memorable 🥰

The ring is beautiful too. It’s the perfect mix between flashy and subtle, the main stone is cut exactly how you like it, and the band is the right amount of tight. When you asked your fiance about how he got it so exact to everything you had dreamed of, he said, “research”. You later found out from his mom that he had bought the ring while he was still at the Naval Academy from the best jeweler he could find: Randle Montgomery. Knowing that he was planning on proposing all those years ago makes it a different kind of special.

I knew it!!! Good saving with the lock story though 😅

“Well, I’d like to marry you before moving, but I’d be honored to be a part of Top Gun again. Those missions are… dangerous, though, to say the least, so I want to have a wedding ring with my dog tags.” You tap on his chest lightly, eyebrows furrowed. “If you do get chosen, you’d better be careful. I’m not prepared to be a widow.” He smiles, a little sadly and a little reassuringly. “I’ll do my best.” 

I adore their realness with each other, from the first comment about wearing socks wrong on 🥹

You’re going to marry the boy next door, and you’re going to be happy doing it. As you settle into bed, with his arm around you and a ring carefully placed on your bedside table, you think that all you’ve ever waited for has finally come to lull you to sleep.

“Hm… what do you think about our favorite colors? So we can represent both of us together.”

So thoughtful, I love it

🥰🥹🥰🥹

This was just such a beautiful story, thank you for sharing it with us 🫶🏻

If you ever feel up to write more about these two like the wedding on th beach or seeing each other after the top gun Maverick mission or her meeting the daggers, I would it all tight up!! 👏🏻

I love them and their story together how they have grown together was just so beautifully to read because you really got a feeling that they were meant to be through the smallest subtile things right from the beginning 🥰

A WAITING GAME

- coming from a broken family, you often had to wait for next time you would be loved. meeting your new neighbor changed that. (robert “bob” floyd x fem!reader, angst and fluff, SLOW BURN, essentially just scenes of you growing up with our favorite WSO, slight prequel to the events of top gun: maverick, includes random original characters to drive the plot ⚠️ alcoholism is a major theme, some instances of harassment from a bully, and like one sexual innuendo but nothing graphic)

word count: 20,135

a/n - ohhhh my gosh, it’s finally here 😭 it’s genuinely the size of a novella, which is insane. i really hope you guys like this bc it took so much time and effort. it’s also the longest thing i’ve ever written, which is amazing in its own right. if you’re the type to listen to music while reading, i suggest a steady stream of hozier, noah kahan, phoebe bridgers, and leith ross <3

Your whole life was a waiting game. Waiting for school to end, for school to start again, for the house across the street to finally have new occupants, for your mother to put the bottle down, for the fairies you were so sure existed to appear in your popsicle stick fairy house, for your stones to finally skip across the creek, for something, anything to happen before you drove yourself insane. And, above all else, you waited for love. It was a pitiful way to grow up, really. Just sitting and letting the days pass by so you couldn’t feel the burning ache of loneliness that writhed and spat in your stomach. You never thought that you could cease this pattern of waiting for something that would never fulfill you, until, inevitably, things changed.

The “for sale” sign that you could see so clearly from your second-floor bedroom window had been replaced by a cheery “sold” sign. Something about it excited you; new neighbors, new people to talk to and play with and bother with your incessant imagination. There was also fear, too. The fear that they would turn a blind eye to the scent of cigarettes woven into your papered walls and the nail marks on the insides of your palms. You took your mind off the notion when you saw a boy right around your age step out of the moving van.

He had glasses, sandy brown hair, a cast on his foot, and a scared little frown. You slid off your bed with a small huff, your socked feet hitting the dusty carpeted floor. This was something new, for once. The stares of the stuffed animals strewn around your room comforted your mild anxiety as you walked through your door frame and down your rickety wooden stairs. You had to move one foot down and then pull the other to match. You were too afraid of keeping just one foot on a single step, even while you clutched the peeling handrail. You hit the bottom and opened the unlocked front door, peering out into the hazy, sunny day.

You were still in your socks, but you figured it didn’t matter. They were pink and yellow striped, just a bit too small. You traipsed across your dying front lawn and across the street, cautiously watching for cars. There were none. The boy turned, his blue eyes locking with yours, and you froze. It was the middle of a hot Montana day, the dry, summery kind that makes your mouth shrivel up, but all you could focus on was how he looked at you with curiosity. Gone was the frown. You peered down, staring into the black asphalt. Oh. You were still on the road. Your feet moved on their own, and you found yourself on the sidewalk, toeing the grass of his lawn. It wasn’t dying.

“Your socks are inside-out,” was the first thing he said. His voice was quiet and kind, like he was trying not to embarrass you. He pointed at the threads hanging off of the seams.

You nervously tucked your hands behind your back. “I know. I like them to be.” He accepted the statement, pulling his hand back and planting it nervously on his hip. His one sock was right-side-in and tucked into a little orange shoe.

That day, as mundane as it was, became one of your favorites to remember.

The next day, after your introduction, you and the boy (who you quickly came to know as Bobby) went down to the creek. His mother had supplied you with sandwiches and cookies in little brown paper bags, folded neatly and marked with your names. You had never eaten out of a brown paper bag before.

Bobby was careful in how he scaled down the small, rocky hill that bordered the creek. He smartly put your lunches on a safe outcropping, to be eaten later. While climbing, he put all his weight on his non-injured foot and was sure to not step on any stray branches. You, having been down this path many times, guided him.

“Don’t step there, Bobby. That’s where the snakes are.” You said, eyeing the little gathering of rocks. He hummed gratefully and adjusted his path.

As you both made it to the bottom, he made sure to stay far enough away from the water so as to not wet his boot. You, however, didn’t really care. Your feet plunged into the soggy ground; it’s not like your shoes weren’t meant to get dirty. He picked up a stick and poked at the rivulets of water in front of him, squinting into the glare. “So, how old are you anyway?” He asked. He was crouched down to help the slightly too short stick prod into the mud.

“Seven.” You responded. You had picked up a stick of your own. “How old are you?”

He watched your movements with careful eyes. He was always watching, you noticed. Always planning. It’s like he was trying to predict every movement of the creek, every motion of your arms. You felt a shiver run down your spine. You didn’t think you could ever be so observant. “I’m eight, been eight for five months now,” came his steady voice. He furrowed his eyebrows as you waved your stick into nothingness, jabbing at something he couldn’t see. He gazed at the air like whatever you were so focused on would materialize if he stared hard enough. “What’cha fighting?”

You smiled crookedly. You could see the scene so clearly in your mind. You and him on a pirate ship, fighting off the attackers who were trying to claim your ride. You were balancing on the plank, sword ready. “Pirates. It’s real fun, you should try.” You slashed the air and saw clothes tearing, blood pooling at the wood under your feet. 

“How do I try?” He asked curiously. He stood up fully and held his stick in both hands.

“Just imagine. They’re coming from a ship across the creek, and our ship is here. I’m… I’m fighting the one with a big axe, and the one comin’ after you has a shiny sword.”

Again, he raked his gaze over the creek in front of him like he was trying to see exactly into your mind. He gave his sword an experimental swing, and you laughed from beside him. “You hit him! Keep going, we’ve almost won.” His eyes lit up, and he began fighting like he saw it too. 

He smiled, and you cheered him on, making sure to fend off your own opponent. The creek bubbled, and he could hear the ocean roaring. He could see the flag flying high above his head, the ship across the ocean, could hear the ‘shing’ and ‘swish’ of his sword. And he saw you, warm and full of life, immersed in this world you had created. He didn’t think he had seen anything quite so pretty.

In the days after that, you saw Bobby often. He never went inside your house, though, that was off limits. Instead, you went to his.

His mom was kind. She was the type of woman to greet you with a hug, the smell of warm food simmering on a pot behind her. Her apron was stained with food and love and tiny paint handprints. When you ran up to his door and knocked (you were too short to reach the doorbell), she would open it kindly and invite you in.

Bobby’s room became a kind of utopia for the both of you. For the first few days, you would help him unpack his toys and crafts and other things of the sort. He had a lot of green army men, you noticed. But after that, you played and played until his mom had to kindly remind you of his bedtime. Your favorite games were imaginary.

He would be a merchant selling his toys, each with a special magical power. You’d assume the role of a traveling knight and barter with him, finally picking out what you believed would help with your quest. Then, in a twist of fate, Bobby would invent some sort of way the magical item went wrong, leaving the both of you to dream up new methods to best your foe. Or you’d be a mermaid and he was the sailor you were friends with. Sometimes, and this was his favorite game, he would be a pilot in the military, and you would be the person giving him instructions on the ground. He would shoot his arms out like airplane wings and soar, causing you to collapse into giggles on his soft rug. You formed a bond with him like no other. By the end of the summer, you knew him inside and out, and he knew you too.

You knew he liked blueberry syrup instead of maple on his pancakes, that his favorite subject was history, how he had a little sister three years younger and an older brother who was in middle school, and the exact expression he made when things went a awry; this sort of half-pout, where his bottom lip would jut out a bit. You knew that he got his cast from slipping on a stone in a big river during a camping trip, and even though he hates not being able to move, he thinks the scar on his ankle is pretty cool. And he knew that you were the most creative person he’d ever met, there was a monster that lived in your house, you had never broken a bone, and your eyes shone if the light hit them at the right angle. 

When you finally left, as the sun was dipping down the horizon, you felt lighter.

The days without his presence were much harder.

Your mom was a hard person to pin down. She would leave early in the morning, dressed in her work clothes, and return late at night, stinking of the bar. Sometimes you’d see her periodically throughout the day, between her two main events, but she was elusive. She would stroke your hair during moments like this, eyes filled with something you only later realized was regret. 

You loved her too much to notice that the way you were living was not at all how a child should grow up. You survived off of your dingy little microwave and frozen food when you weren’t with Bobby and his family. The nights, however, were worse than being alone all day.

You would pretend to be asleep more often than not, but you couldn’t really be asleep with how much noise she made. Shouting words you didn’t recognize into the phone, slamming doors, crying, pulling the magnets off the fridge and shattering the few framed pictures that were scattered around your house. It made the pit inside of you grow larger and larger.

Afterwards, when she was done with her rampage, she’d sweep up the pieces and put everything back together. She would spell out notes for you in the fridge magnets. She would open your door, just a crack, and whisper, “I love you, baby. I’m sorry.” with a blown kiss. You knew she was sorry. You knew she loved you, that she kept the cabinets stocked with the snacks you liked from two years ago, around the time she first started drinking. There was nothing you knew more than how bad she felt for treating you like she did. In your mind, you forgave her. She was doing her best. That didn’t stop you from wishing you lived in Bobby’s little house, with his kind and loving mother and stern but kindhearted father. You wished for pirates and pilots and blueberry syrup. 

Sometimes, you just imagined you were there, tucked under his navy blue comforter. That thought filled the pit just enough to let you drift off to sleep.

As the days grew shorter and the weather chillier, school started. School was fun until it wasn’t.

The first day was always the best, in your opinion. You never really had any friends to miss if they were placed into other classrooms, and some of the other kids didn’t even know who you were. It was scary, sure, but it was new. It was a fresh start. This year, though, you had Bobby.

Luckily for the two of you, you were both in Mrs. Moore’s class. Even luckier for you, Brady was not in Mrs. Moore’s class. 

The boy had a tendency to pick on you in school. Ever since first grade, when he caught you whispering to a dandelion, he made every day in school tougher.

He would knock your books out of your hands, scribble on your drawings, and tear your flower crowns apart. You didn’t know why. He just didn’t understand your far-eyed expression and your tendency to bury your nose in books. He was loud, with a grating voice and windswept blond hair, and people liked him. He played sports and shared his lunch. That made him very, very different from you, in a way that was hard for child brains to accept. 

You were scared that Bobby would find his own trouble here. He was quiet, and that made him a target. He was too kind, too caring, too good at blending into the background. 

You walked up to classroom B8, holding your little dirtied backpack on one arm. The door was painted a sort of industrial teal, with a chipped but cheery sun done in acrylics in the middle. The title, a magnet, read “Mrs. Moore fun!”. Bobby hesitated from next to you. He held out a silent hand, and you gripped it in yours. His hands were bigger, warm and slick with a thin sheen of nervous sweat. Knowing someone else was going through the day with you was a quiet comfort, so you met his wavering eyes and smiled. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

The door swung open, and a woman with a brown bob ushered you inside. She had big pencil earrings and a pretty patterned dress. She showed you to your seats, and you were happy to learn that you were just one person away from your friend. In between you was another girl with bouncy auburn curls and freckles, whose name card read “Margaret”. You didn’t know her, but she offered you a kind grin.

“Hello, class!” Mrs. Moore began. “I know you saw my name on the door, but I’d like to learn all of yours today. How about we go around and say our names and favorite colors so I can take attendance?”

Your time in the quaint little classroom sped by like a whirlwind, barely giving you enough time to adjust to everything before you were ushered out to be served lunch and play on the sun-faded playground. Bobby’s mom had packed you both lunch today. It was like she knew that your mom couldn’t, and that you never had the money to buy the school lunch. It gave you this warm sort of emotion, like a fuzzy sweater. You and he sat on a bench shaded by a rickety old tree.

He chewed his sandwich thoughtfully as you went for the little bag of Oreo cookies first. “How do you like it here?” You asked, biting into the crumbly treat.

“It’s okay. Back in my old school, our playground had wood chips instead of sand,” he commented simply. “I like being here with you, though.”

You beamed. Bobby had lived in the town adjacent to yours before he moved, still in Montana, but with a different atmosphere. He often noted the differences, like how the cars here sputtered more and there was never quite enough shade. This, however, was all you had ever known. It was all you ever thought you could know. Your world ended after the big road that cut you off from the rest of society. Bobby made you want to wait for the day you could cross that road, in your own car that hopefully didn’t sputter, and see the world that he had known. “Me too. Most everyone is pretty great here, you’ll see. Just watch out for Brady, the one on the monkey bars. He might try to tease you.”

“Why would he?” Bobby questioned. He studied where you gestured, light eyes straining against the bright sun and wavy heat coming up from the asphalt. 

You started on your sandwich, which was beginning to warm. You didn’t mind. “I dunno. He’s just like that, I guess.”

“He must be mean,” The boy beside you said, finishing off the last bite of his sandwich. He never chewed with his mouth open, you noticed. He kept it neat and tidy. “Anyone who picks on you has got to be.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, so you buried yourself into eating your sandwich. “Thanks. I hope he doesn’t pick on you, ‘cuz you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Bobby’s face turned a shade of red you had never seen on him, and suddenly the hand that was underneath yours was fidgeting against the wood of the bench. “You really think so?”

“I know so. You’re nice, and you let me play with your glasses. And you’re really good at climbing, even with your boot. And you make me feel good.”

The corners of his mouth tugged up impossibly high as he handed you his bag of Oreos. He liked sweets, sure, but he liked giving them to you more. He could sit there and watch you eat forever if it meant you smiled like you were doing now. “You make me feel good too, like I can’t stop being happy.”

“Ex-act-ly!” You punctuated each syllable with a little tap of your finger on the back of his hand. When he was around, you felt like you could fly. Every dandelion, 11:11, shooting star, fallen eyelash, they all went to trying to keep him in your life. Without you knowing, he did the same thing. “Oh, do you want to see what I drew during art time?”

The conversation carried on, although there are snippets you don’t remember. Something about the stray cat that you saw down at the creek and the field trip the older kids bragged about going on. Looking back on it, that era seems so far away that it could have been another life. You were so small then, so hurt, and so innocent. You just had your neighbor and dreams, both waking and asleep.

School continued, and you and Bobby began to fall into a sort of rhythm. You would pass notes to each other through Margaret, play hopscotch and four-square and wall ball until you were tired of running around, learn until you thought your brains would explode, and walk home, laughing and bright-eyed. Even Brady couldn’t dull the shine. Bobby was, surprisingly, a hard person to make fun of. Despite being quiet, he would puff up his chest and stand strong in the face of any adversity. Mostly, though, he stood up for you. He would pick up your books, help you turn scribbles into twisting dragons, and make you new flower crowns when Brady tried anything during recess. Bobby cared. In a sense, though neither of you knew what the word really meant, he loved you. So he took care of you, and you filled his life with so much wonder and joy that he wished he could be with you forever. It was like that for a long, long time. 

The years came and went in elementary school. For once, you accepted every day that came to you as a new era, a new chance to prove to yourself that life is more than crumbling foundations. You experienced growth; you no longer waited for things to be over. Instead, incredibly, you anticipated each coming event, no matter what it was.

It took you a while to realize that Bobby was the catalyst of your change.

Your 5th grade promotion was a blur of smiles and hugs and tears from Bobby’s mom, coral colored fabric, and paper confetti. You posed for pictures, sang a song, and received a little certificate to display in some homegoods frame that most mothers buy. Other than that, it was just another day. You went home and played with Bobby some more, like you always did. 

That certificate, crumpled and browned around the edges, is now sitting in a box, deep in your closet, paper-clipped to a photograph of you and Bobby. It rests against a snapped wishbone, one whose exact wish you have entirely forgotten, but it more than likely had to do with him. There is also a crushed penny, a number of birthday cards, and a wooden rose, among other things. It’s silly, you think, to keep them after so many years, but something in you begs to keep them safe. You suppose that you can’t be rid of every memory, not when the Floyds made so many good ones for you. 

Middle school was another stage in your life, one that swirled your emotions while all you needed was stability. It wasn’t bad, per se, but it was the beginning of years of confusing feelings.

Bobby stopped being Bobby during the 1,095 days between elementary and high school. He wanted to be called Robert, and he combed his hair back, and his voice started cracking. He listened to rock and metal instead of whatever his mom found on the radio. He didn’t turn into a bad person like some of his peers, no, but he changed. You remember the first time he put in contacts instead of his big, thick-rimmed glasses.

You were sitting on the edge of his sink as he pulled his eye wide open, his fingers trembling slightly. “I can’t do it. I don’t want to poke my eye out,” he whined, setting the finger that held the contact down. “But I don’t want to wear glasses, either. I’m too old for that.”

He stared at you while you let out a short, stifled laugh. “Don’t laugh, I’m trying my best,” he groaned, but his mouth was curving into a smile, too—it just always happened when you laughed, like how he couldn’t help but smile at wedding bells. 

“Can you even see what you’re doing?” You asked. You tapped the glass reflection to the side of you, sending out a soft clink. His vision had never been the best, but his optometrist just upped his prescription. He didn’t want to be seen with the thickness of the glass he was given, no, he wanted to “look cooler”. So there he was, with blurry vision and a nearly invisible contact balancing on the tip of his finger. 

“Yeah.” He paused, considering his options, before looking down with a sigh. “No. I can see the blue, but I have no clue if my eyes are two inches or two millimeters away.” He sounded so disappointed that it sent a twinge of hurt through your heart. He liked dealing with problems on his own, namely so that no one else would have to go out of their way to help him, so that must have been a humbling experience for him.

“Let me guide you, then,” you chirped. “I’ll use your hand to put the contacts in so you can get a feel for where to stop next time.” You let the tips of your fingers brush over his hand, ghosting over the raised hairs just enough to let him sense it. Robert squinted at you.

You seemed like an angel perched on the tile counter. He couldn’t see the exactness of your details, like the curves of your lips, but you had a form that he could recognize anywhere. The shade of your hair, the sparkle in your eye. He would carry those memories for as long as he lived. What worried him was that he didn’t know exactly how far away from him you were sitting. So, because he didn’t trust himself to not miss his eyes, and because he trusted you like he trusted his heart to beat, he agreed. “Okay.”

You took his hand in yours, careful not to knock the precariously balanced contact off, and he widened his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was because of your touch or because he wanted to assist with the contact placement. You slowly brought his hand up, towards his eye, feeling his pulse under your fingers. His lips were pursed, a testament to his nervousness. He never did like things touching his eyes, but he would brave it until he unavoidably went back to glasses. With a gentle, caring motion, you helped him rest the contact on his eyeball. He flinched at the initial touch, but accepted it, blinking rapidly to shake off the contact solution. His eyes were pretty, you noticed. As messed up as they were, they had the most intoxicating shade, like a stormy ocean. 

“Want the next one?” You were already unscrewing the contact holder as he nodded slowly. He closed the eye without a contact and gaped at you.

“I can see!”

“I think that’s what contacts are for,” you quipped. He pretended to roll his one eye, but you could see the humor bubbling up from within him. The lighting was nice, he thought. The way it shone around the edges of your hair was heavenly.

“Well, yeah. Could you help me with the other now?” He probably didn’t need much help this time, given that one half of him had 20/20 vision, but he liked feeling your hand on his. He liked being helped by you. It was a revelation for him, who had always been a bit of an independent spirit. Don’t get him wrong, he liked being around people, and as a kid he would clutch at his mother’s dresses, but he preferred to do certain things on his own. You changed that.

“Definitely.”

Things took a slight turn after that. School became harder, more work and less play. Your middle school was bigger than your previous school, so it came to no surprise to you that Robert made his own friends. Namely, he hung out with a tall, dark, curly-haired boy named Aaron and a shorter, sturdier, pale as snow boy named Samuel. They were alright, in your opinion. You liked Aaron much more. Sam became bossy and annoying when you let him ramble for too long, and though both Robert and Aaron were too polite to say, it annoyed them. It’s Aaron that you still talk to now, while Sam moved to upstate New York during your freshman year of high school.

The boys were not the most popular group in school, though you knew you weren’t either. But, to your surprise, your good friend Margaret was.

You didn’t really expect to become friends with her. She was loud, happy, excitable. She was always polite in elementary, but she truly took you under her wing as Robert started spending more time with his group. She introduced you to Sarah, Charlotte, Elizabeth, anyone that you could even remember the names of. And, along with her constant joviality, she wasn’t a bad friend.

The only problem was that she was deeply in love with Robert Floyd. 

“You don’t even get it ‘cuz he’s like your brother at this point, but he’s gorgeous. He’s basically perfectly my type,” she sighed, falling back onto her plush pink bed. Her legs kicked up just a little, and her curls fanned out around her head like a halo. “I want to ask him out soooo bad. Do you think he’d like me? Wait, do you know if he’s a good kisser? That’s important, I think.” You threw the pillow you were holding on top of her face, and her laugh rang out like the chime of a bell. She was perfect. She deserved someone like Robert, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You didn’t know why it hurt at the time. Just the idea of him dating someone else, holding hands with someone else, loving someone else, made you sick. You chalked it up to being jealous that eventually another person would take up your best friend’s heart. It was only much, much later that you realized you were in love with him, too.

Margaret tossed the pillow to the other side of her bed. “Really, you need to tell me.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “He'd like you, Margie. I mean, who wouldn’t?” Her smile was genuine. It hurt you to say, but you weren’t lying. You didn’t think you could ever lie about something like that.

“But is he a good kisser? Please, I need to know, I’m dying!” She prodded. You rolled your eyes, glancing up at the perfectly painted ceiling. Like everything about her, it was pristine.

“No idea. He’s never kissed anyone.” He could be good, maybe. Everything he did was soft and methodical, so just the idea of him capturing a person’s lips with his own, his calloused hand resting on the back of their head… no, you couldn’t think about it. Your eyes snapped to attention.

“I’ll have to change that.” Her tone was sing-songy, and to you, it sounded almost mocking. It couldn’t be, because neither of you knew your actual feelings, but it struck you the wrong way.

“I’m sure you will.”

Margaret tried everything to get closer to Robert. She flirted, she downloaded songs from his favorite bands, she begged and pleaded for you to invite him to every outing the two of you planned, and she talked to him constantly to try and worm her way into his heart. She never knew him like you did, though, and she hated it. 

When it was just you and him, things were different. You were the only one he let call him “Bobby” and play with his fingers when you were nervous. He even let you ruffle his hair, despite him spending half an hour in his bathroom trying to get each strand to lay perfectly. He would open his closet and pull out his comic collection without a hint of embarrassment, and you and he read them together underneath a blanket tent in the middle of the night—after his parents started letting you sleep over, of course. They gave you both “the talk” before you spent your first night there, and Robert was rolling his eyes and blushing the whole time. He would never do that with you, he assured them. You were just friends.

Friends who ultimately ended up falling asleep on the same bed, paying no attention to the blow-up mattress on the floor of his room.

In any case, you tried to get Robert and Margaret together. The time you tried the hardest was the start of your seventh grade year, when Margie insisted that she needed a boyfriend before Christmas. You, being a good friend, invited them both to go to the mall a short drive away from your houses. 

Margie’s mom drove, because she was always up for helping her daughter with her romantic interests. She knew about Robert, sending you and her daughter knowing smiles whenever he would politely answer Margie’s rapid-fire questions. You felt a little bad for the boy, who wasn’t used to so much attention.

The little car (too little, in your opinion; Margaret took the middle seat and was pressed against Bobby for the whole ride) finally arrived at the mall after a few minutes of slight awkwardness. You all stepped out, and Margie’s mom kissed her on the forehead and said she would be back in two hours on the minute. Two hours was a lot at that time. 

Your friend immediately pointed out a clothing store, pulling you along to look at flouncy dresses and colorful tops. You could tell that it made Robert a bit uncomfortable, but he went in anyway. During your usual mall trips with him, the both of you made a beeline for the comic store, or simply shared some pretzels while walking and talking. It was only rarely that you wandered into the clothing stores, and most of the time, you just looked and walked back out. You never had the money on you to buy anything more than a volume or two of a comic. “These shorts are just perfect, don’t you think?” She asked you, but her eyes were staring pointedly at Robert.

“They’re nice,” you said. He nodded in silent agreement, slipping his hand into the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t ever really have an opinion on clothes. Someone could wear the most awful outfit and he’d shrug, offering the notion that people should wear what they want, while Sam laughed at the silly combination. Margie tore through the rest of the store, giving you hanger upon hanger of clothing to hold while she rifled through the racks. Robert trailed behind. 

Just as the weight of the tops you were holding on your left arm accumulated into a painful soreness, you spotted something out of the corner of your eye. It was a dress.

Robert silently grabbed the clothes from you, following your line of sight. The dress was as close to perfect as a dress had ever been to you. The color, some variation of your favorite, complemented the tone of your skin perfectly when you held your arm up to it. The cut, the stitching, the little details sewn on—it was gorgeous. As you reached out to touch it, Margie squealed.

“That dress! I need it, grab it for me, would you?”

 You hesitated. It was the only one like it on the rack. Instinctively, you glanced back at Robert, and he had this confusing expression on his face that you had only seen once or twice; furrowed brows, tight lips, and a burning in his eyes. You looked away and took the dress down.

You probably wouldn’t be able to afford it. Checking the tag, you were right: thirty-eight dollars. Even after doing yard work and tutoring the little boy down the street, you hadn’t been able to keep that sort of sum. “Thanks,” she purred, “I’m gonna try everything on now. Wanna watch the fashion show?”

A part of you didn’t. You were envious, glowing green at the amount of things she could pick up without even checking the tag, but as a good, people-pleasing friend, you pushed it aside. So, you followed her past the door of the spacious dressing room while Robert waited outside with the clothes that didn’t fit into the ten item dressing room limit. 

She looked stunning in every outfit, but she threw most of the pieces off with a frustrated sigh. The waist wasn’t cinched enough, or the color clashed with her hair, or the pant legs were too short to cascade over the top of her shoes like she wanted. If you had the money, you didn’t think you would care. 

Then came time for the dress. It was one of the last things that she tried on, and she slipped it back over her head almost immediately after putting it on. “It just doesn’t work for my figure,” she muttered. 

You picked it off the floor gingerly, holding it up to yourself in the mirror. “Can I try it on?” You asked. She lit up with surprise, a happy glint dancing in her grin. 

“Of course! Go ahead.”

You undressed in the corner and stepped into the dress. Margie helped you smooth it out and fasten it just right, her fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades. When you looked in the mirror, your jaw almost fell open. 

It hugged you perfectly, the length stopping just where you assumed it was meant to stop. It was casual enough to be worn normally, but it had that fancy touch that made it suited for a romantic dinner date or uppity party. You almost looked like royalty. You could just imagine it, waving to crowds with a slow hand from a horse-drawn carriage. Bobby would be beside you, as always, and Margie and Aaron in the carriage behind you. Sam would be dealing with the horses. 

You were shaken out of your thoughts by a faint knock on the door. “Hey, are you guys ready? There’s a bit of a line out here,” came Robert’s voice. Margie was dressed by that point, so you opened the door, still clad in the dress.

“I just gotta change out of this and then we’ll be ready.” You gave a small twirl, and Robert choked on air. “It’s too expensive, but it’s nice to dream,” you said with a small grin. You didn’t know if it reached your eyes or not, but you knew the boy wouldn’t call you out for it. Not in public, at least.

You looked beautiful. That’s all that he could see, all that he could fathom. You slipped back into the dressing room, and he was left stunned. 

Before anything else, though, you looked happy in the dress. Sad that you had to leave it, but it made you happy. Robert was nothing if not a sucker for seeing you happy.

Your group finally checked out after a few minutes of the cashier ringing up Margie’s clothes. It was nearing the end of your mall trip, but you managed to visit the comic store and pick up a bite to eat along the way. At some point, while you were flipping through a comic book, Robert slipped away and returned with a grocery bag. It was something his mom wanted him to pick up, he said, and you didn’t feel the need to question him. You just mumbled a conversation starter into Margie’s ear and slipped away as she excitedly whipped around to relay it to him.

She never did win him over. She tried and tried, and you helped and helped, but it seemed he didn’t have an eye for her. 

Everything came to a sort of explosion near Christmas. The ground was powdered with a thick blanket of snow, the trees were bare, save for dripping ice, and houses put out beautiful, twinkling lights. There were even singing decorations from your neighbor to the left. When you breathed, the air would puff out in gentle clouds. It was, in essence, a perfect, picturesque winter. It was also one of your favorite times of the year.

Your mom always made an effort during the winter months. She came home earlier to hide in the bathroom, trying to muffle the sounds of wrapping paper and scissors. In the morning, you would see the fruits of her labor tucked under your little plastic tree. It wasn’t perfect, but she wanted you to experience some sort of joyful Montana holiday. You also spent more time indoors, snickering with Robert in the library or blowing on sweet hot cocoa by his crackling fire. It was times like these that you really felt at home.

His family knew about your situation. They didn’t make your mom feel like a villain, no, but they knew she was struggling, and they did their very best to help you out. That’s why you were bundled up on their couch on one frigid day, when Robert came home with a pinched frown.

He wasn’t mad, exactly. You had never known him to be mad. But he was uncomfortable in a way that made you want to throw your blanket over him and make him whisper his troubles to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked. He wasn’t surprised to see you in his home—he never was. He sat down next to you with a heavy sigh.

“Margaret asked if I wanted to date her,” he murmured, throwing his head back against the couch cushions. This piqued your interest. You knew something like this would happen eventually, but you didn’t expect him to be so uneasy about it. Margie had been talking about asking him out for ages, and you just smiled and nodded. Her bright, bubbly personality was a large contrast to his, but you figured that opposites attracted. He had never shown a hint of distaste at being around her. No distaste that you had seen, at least.

You looked at him, confusion creasing your face. “What did you say?” Maybe it was just the wrong time. If he were to crush on anyone, it would be her, not that he had ever talked about his crushes to you. That seemed like something he would only tell Aaron, despite you being his closest friend.

“I said no. I just… I don’t like her like that.” His voice came out as an almost groan as he rubbed at his eyes. He turned his head to rest it on your shoulder. The weight sent a heavy warmth through you, but you were still so bewildered that it hardly even registered.

“I thought you would. Did she do something wrong?”

He shook his head, looking up at you, and then back down at the fire blazing away in his fireplace. Slowly, he wrapped your blanket around himself, as well, sharing your heat to ward off the cold. “No, she’s nice, but I don’t feel that way about her.” You still didn’t get it. If you were him, you would jump at the chance to date her. She was pretty, funny, and her family was well off. However, something in you uttered that it takes more than that to make someone love you. And that something was a bit happy, because Robert rejecting Margie meant that you could have him all to yourself again. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “Do you feel that way about anyone else?”

That question breached the sanctity of your relationship in a way. You had never asked him about his love life, and he had never asked about yours. It was unspoken. You knew, deep in your heart, that if he asked you, you wouldn’t be able to say anyone’s name but his. 

His face was tinged with red. It was hard to see, but you knew it was there. “I dunno.”

You lapsed into a subdued silence, not knowing whether to press forward or not. You decided on the latter, just listening to the near-silent spitting of the fireplace. You knew that Margie wouldn’t be happy, and you would get an earful over the phone that night, but you knew that, like all things, this would pass.

Bobby would be your closest confidant for another Christmas.

You were right when you assumed that Margie wouldn’t take it well. You spent night after night listening to her laments, rubbing a soothing pattern on her back as she cried. You didn’t even know if she was upset that Robert didn’t like her or if she was upset that she got rejected, but you gave her a listening ear no matter what. The calls and in-person interactions only ceased when she went to spend the week of Christmas with her family in Utah.

You, naturally, spent most of your time with Robert. For the entirety of winter break, it was just you and him, which was something that hadn’t happened since elementary school. It gave you a chance to think about things—your feelings in particular.

You slowly realized that you didn’t want to just be his friend. You didn’t know it was love, not yet at least, but your heart beat faster when he was around, and you felt the need to keep him around for as long as possible. It was something further than platonic. A crush, maybe, that was only furthered by the events of Christmas day. 

You spent the rare morning with your mother, who had been given a single day off by her boss. It was odd to have her around to make breakfast, not smelling of the bar, and humming around a piece of toast. “It’s almost ready, honey. Why don’t you start on the presents while we wait?” Her voice was only slightly muffled by her food. You nodded silently and pulled out one of the three little gifts wrapped up under the tree. Two from her to you, and one from you to her. It didn’t disappoint you to not receive the dozens of wrapped boxes that your friends did; from a young age, you had realized that any gift at all was precious. You slipped your fingers beneath the wrapping paper and pulled the taped folds away gently, careful not to rip them. 

As you unfolded the creases, the box underneath revealed itself to you. It was a shoebox, and within were a pair of shoes that you had been eyeing for a while now. Your face lit up with surprise. She had really remembered? “Thank you, mom.” You grinned. She laughed, turning the heat off from under the scrambled eggs she was tending to. 

“I’m not a bad gift giver, hm?” she hummed, sitting down next to you. You pushed the gift that you wrapped for her into her grasp, and she looked down at it with a guilty expression. “I didn’t notice you got anything for me, sweet thing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be the type of mom that doesn’t deserve a Christmas gift.”

You took her hands off of the present and wrapped them around your shoulders, her normally cold fingers giving off a soft heat. “You aren’t. You do your best, mama, and I love you all the same.” You couldn’t bring yourself to be mean to her when she had spent an important part of her paycheck on you. It was true, that she did all she could think to do, but some part of you wanted her to be better. You still hoped that she could pull herself together and make breakfast for you every day, so you wouldn’t have to microwave pizza pockets or slump over to Robert’s house for a bite to eat. But you were her child, not Georgia Floyd’s, and hoping and wishing couldn’t change that. You had come to terms with it when you saw her watery eyes undoing your sloppy wrapping.

It was a jewelry tree that she said she wanted nearly five months ago. It was expensive, sapping your meager funds, but you knew it would make her happy. 

Your mother was one for jewelry and pleasantries, when pleasantries were made to be found. You figured that she liked to feel fancy, with glass diamonds and greening gold. It was the best gift you could think to give her.

She looked up at you as tears began to stream down her face. She wiped them away hastily. “Thanks, baby. I appreciate you more than you know, more than I could ever tell you.”

Your next gift was a book you had wanted for a while but could never seem to find at the library. You thanked her profusely, and spent the next half hour eating with her and talking. Like normal families do. Normal families with normal moms. You could almost picture a man, your father, coming in from the cold outside with the mail in his hands. A roaring fire, a sibling, a pet. Maybe a beagle like Bobby had. But the illusion was shattered when she pulled herself up and wrapped her scarf around her neck, muttering apologetically about having to pick up a Christmas shift after all as she hugged you close. You needed the money, she said. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

Nearly as soon as she left, there was a quiet knock on your door. You opened it slowly, not excited about hearing from the Jehovah’s Witness that frequented your neighborhood. Instead of him was Robert. And he was carrying a gift bag.

“Hi,” he blurted, “this is for you. Merry Christmas.” He handed you the bag, careful not to put his foot through the threshold of your house. You opened the door wider, a pleasant grin spreading onto your face. 

“Come in, I have something for you too.”

He hesitated. He had never been inside your house before. You had never explicitly told him he wasn’t allowed, but you usually had some excuse as to why he couldn’t stay over. Over the years, he had learned to just stop looking past the barely cracked-open door and pull you away to his place instead. But, with your insistence, he breached the unknown.

Your house wasn’t as furnished or comfortable as his, but it didn’t really matter. There were two brooms laid against the kitchen wall and a dustpan between them, and your small couch had a tear on the seam. The cabinets didn’t exactly close right, and your faucet leaked. Other than that, it was a normal house. He marveled at a picture of you and your mom stuck to the fridge with a magnet, with the edges folded over like it used to be in a frame. You let him wander for a minute or two before pulling him into your bedroom.

It was completely and utterly you. Books, comics, and little craft projects filled much of the shelf next to your bed, and the sheets were messily crumpled on your mattress. You had a little closet and a mirror that rested against it, slightly smudged with fingerprints. There was even a poster from some movie you liked hung above your headboard. You opened your closet and pulled a small wrapped parcel out from the depths. 

You handed it to him with a shy look. “I hope you like it.”

As he took the gift from you, he could feel a significant heft to the package. “I’d like anything if it was from you. It’s the thought that counts, right?” He sat on the edge of your bed as you nodded slowly. You were still a little worried that he wouldn’t be happy, but you knew him. He would thank you profusely if you had wrapped him a lump of coal. He might have even displayed it proudly on his shelf. The thought was enough to have you stifling a laugh. “You should open yours first.”

You obliged, pulling out the tissue paper delicately. Your fingers closed in around something soft, like fabric. Through the gaps of your hands, you could see your favorite color. Your heart leaped out of your chest. “Is this…?”

Bobby nodded, beaming. You took the article of clothing out fully and almost cried at the sight.

It was the dress you had wanted at the mall. The one that had fit you perfectly, and the one that Margie had almost taken from you. You hugged it to your chest. “Thank you, Bobby, thank you. I love it so much.” Your voice was quiet, brimming with emotion. He just opened his arms, and you dove into them, the both of you uncaring of the tear marks that would form on his thick jacket. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You exclaimed, louder this time, but still muffled by his chest. He just laughed and pulled you in closer.

“You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome.”

That meant more to you than anything else could have. Not only did he notice what you liked, he bought it when you couldn’t. It was more than just a gift. 

Robert would’ve given up his entire stash of money, carefully tucked away in his dresser drawer, to make you react like that. It was no contest.

He opened his gift next and had to scrub the wetness away from his own eyes. It was a model plane; more specifically, a version of the Super Hornet. The plane he had heard about entering service years ago, and the plane that he dreamed of flying. He ran his hands along the wings in wonder. “It’s perfect.” He choked out. “Thank you. I’m gonna put it on my shelf as soon as I get home.” You knew he would say something like that, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling good.

He stayed for a bit, after that, talking to you about anything and everything, as you usually do. It was nice to see him lying on your bed, staring up at your ceiling. And it was nice to have this sort of alone time with him. When he reached up to pick a piece of fuzz off of your shirt, you almost melted in place. You never thought your heart could beat that fast.

After he left, you felt your joy walk out the door behind him. All you could think was that you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

You never had to wait long.

The rest of middle school went by fairly quickly, as did Margaret’s sadness. She got over her affections before moving on to the next poor sap, dragging you along with her. After eighth grade, she would always mention how nice Aaron looked in his church clothes and how pretty his eyes were. Not having to worry about someone taking Bobby away from you was just another weight off of your shoulders. You also grew a lot during that time, physically and mentally. You were taller, happier, bigger, stronger. It was in part due to Rob, as he liked to be called sometime during your freshman year, and in part due to your mother finally going to rehab.

You didn’t know it was rehab. You didn’t know much at that age, not of yourself or other people, so it was just one more thing to add to the list. She just told you that you would have to stay at Rob’s for a few months, and they accepted your presence with kindness. His mom seemed to look at you sadly during that time. You chose to ignore it, focusing on how grateful you were to have a home while your mother was away. 

High school was better. Much better, in your opinion. You felt like things were finally coming together.

You had a small, quaint, stable friend group, consisting of you, Margaret, Rob, and Aaron. They were fun. You didn’t think you could enjoy going to football games or pep rallies until they were there with you, cheering and joyful. Even studying was full of inside jokes and nudging each other with your elbows until the flashcards were forgotten and the air was thick with laughter. You started to enjoy your classes, too, because you had a clearer goal in your mind. You were going to apply to your city’s college and room with Margie, considering you both got in. So you threw yourself into school with full force, hoping that your future would be just as great.

Rob wasn’t planning on going to your college. He hadn’t told you, not yet, but he was applying to the Naval Academy. He was finally going to achieve his dreams, even if he felt endless guilt about leaving you to be on your own. He didn’t want to lose you, but the temptation of the sky drew him in until he couldn’t escape the magnetizing force.

The first year was, other than a few football games and watching Margie perform in the school play, relatively uneventful. 

Dungeons and Dragons began to reign supreme as your group’s favorite pastime, although Margaret didn’t quite understand the story that Aaron concocted. To her credit, she tried. She played an elvish ranger with long flowing hair and a past of tortured princesshood, while you decided on a sweet halfling druid, and Rob a powerful human wizard. Nothing was more fun than losing yourself entirely to the tale, drawn in by Aaron’s dark voice impressions and the little figures that danced across the map he drew. It was a more grown-up form of playing pretend, and you were entranced by every second of every session.

By the time your mother returned home, fidgety yet quiet, you had established a nice sort of life. You moved back to your house, bittersweetly thanking Rob’s family for taking you in, and you spent the rest of the school year and the summer that followed with her. 

She was different. She wasn’t like she was prior to the drinking or during the drinking, but  a new person entirely, like she shed every part of herself and started fresh. She slept in, but got ready for work as you were walking out the door. She cooked, but with a tremor in her hand that was never present before. There were no more midnight rampages, but you got the feeling that she didn’t fall into her bed until very late hours. It was odd, at best, but like always, she did what she could with what she had. You continued to support her every step of the way.

Starting your sophomore year was less exciting than transitioning to a whole new school, and the nerves that had preceded every other year had faded into the background. You were more sure of yourself. Still naive, but there was some confidence in your step. The classes were tough, but you were tougher. Of course, the people who picked on you in the past were still jerks, but it was nothing you weren’t already used to. 

You finished the year with a smile on your face and a finger linked with each of your friends. 

Summer was the same as it always was. Fun, lazy, anything you wanted to make of it. You and the rest of the group frequented the lake closest to Aaron’s house, as his older brother was no stranger to driving you around in the car he had fixed up the summer previous. It was during one of those trips that you discovered quite a few things about the people around you.

Margaret was splashing around in the lake, completely unfazed by the freezing water. Well, she was fazed at the beginning, but she quickly adapted. “Come in, it’s so nice!” she called, flicking a drop of water towards you. You blocked it with the edge of your towel, not keen on getting your book wet.

“Later, I’m still reading,” you grumbled. Rob was perched behind you, reading over your shoulder as the pages flipped. You had just returned from the water and were trying to wait out the little kids that were flailing around in the shallows. 

She made a face until she spotted that Aaron was also out of the water. Shrugging, she stepped closer to the shore, and tugged on his arm. That action sent him stumbling into the lapping waves, to her delight. 

He let out an indistinct shout before resigning himself to being wet once again. “Warn me next time, geez! I could’ve died,” he moaned, pushing a wave of water straight into Margie’s face. She just laughed in delight. 

You ignored the two as you worked on your book, delving further into the story of a girl on a mountain, traversing through the thick forest in an attempt to wake her comatose father. Rob read right along with you, keeping your pace perfectly. You never needed to ask him when he wanted you to turn the pages—it was like your eyes read at the same speed, your brains processing the same things. Among other things, that was convenient. 

The air began to grow colder as you began the second-to-last chapter, the sun casting longer and longer shadows. It wasn’t evening quite yet, but the blazing afternoon sun had softened. You looked up with a start. It had clearly been a couple hours, but where were the other two members of your group?

You turned around to face Rob. “Have you seen Aaron and Margie recently?”

He quickly scanned the area with a slight look of panic sewn into his features. The lake was empty, the shore was clear of visitors, and even the sky was barren. “No, but we really need to find them before Marcus comes back with the car.” They were simply gone. “Here, why don’t you stay with our stuff and I’ll go look?” he suggested, standing to wipe the gravel off his shorts. 

“I don’t want to split up.” You were wary of the quiet, unsure if something would come out of the land around you and take you, too. “We can hide the bags in that dry spot under the dock and come back for them later.”

He just nodded in agreement, taking the larger share of your things and helping you conceal them within the rocks and overgrown water weeds. The two of you then set off to find your friends, calling their names into the sound of sloshing water and twittering birds. 

It was almost twenty minutes later when you began to hear someone sniffling and a distinctly feminine voice trying to calm them down. Margie and Aaron. You and Rob looked at each other, then swiftly moved towards them.

Aaron was crouched down in the middle of a little clearing, his head in his hands. Margie was sitting and whispering to him, something you couldn’t quite make out. You had never heard her whisper before. It didn’t matter, though, because they quickly spotted you.

“Guys, I’m not sure it’s a good-”

“No, it’s okay.” Aaron cut Margaret off. “They can hear it.”

You dropped to your knees to get on their level, Rob quickly following suit. “What happened?” you asked, gently reaching out to brush Aaron’s hand. His face was slick with tears, his normally neat hair lopsided like he had tried to run his fingers through the thick coils. 

He hesitated, slightly, but Margie patted him encouragingly. “Margie told me how she felt.”

Okay, another confession within the friend group. That wouldn’t explain the running away or the crying, at least not him crying, so what else? Rob spoke up, voice restrained. “How did that make you feel?”

“Bad,” he muttered, looking up at the girl with guilt in his brown eyes. “Not because I don’t like her, but because I can’t.” His voice trailed off into muffled sobs once again as he sunk into Margie’s arms.

Oh. You exchanged glances with Rob.

That wasn’t exactly news to you, but you had never been able to voice your suspicions out loud. It just made sense. Margie liked Aaron, and Aaron didn’t like girls. He didn’t even have to explain fully, you and Rob just hugged his shaking form. 

There was a very hushed, heartfelt talk after that. The fact of the matter was, you and your friends loved Aaron, and that was just a new fact about him for you to love. It also surprised you a little.

You knew you would be okay with it, but Rob and Margie grew up with you. They knew your area and the opinions that floated around. You never expected them to be hateful, no, but putting aside the thoughts that were so instilled in your hometown would be difficult for anyone lesser than them. It showed you that your friends wouldn’t dream of hurting the people around them, the people they loved.

When anyone, you included, presented the group with a new side of them, they were accepted with open arms. 

Junior year was tougher than the previous. Your rocks remained by your side, but certain people pulled at the strings binding your sanity like a child with a ball of yarn. One of those people ended up being Brady, who after a couple years of a mild hiatus, began making fun of you more than ever.

He was in all the same rigorous classes as you and your friends, leading him to be able to torture you during lessons. In addition to that, his last name was similar enough to yours for him to be placed behind you in most of those classes.

The vast majority of the torture involved stealing your belongings, throwing things at the back of your head, making fun of your looks, hobbies, anything, and passing you notes that read like a stupid teenage boy’s jeers. Sexual innuendos, frankly abhorrent pick up lines, and gross questions crumpled under your fist almost every day. 

You tried to tell the teachers, the principal, anyone that would listen, but they all said the same thing: boys will be boys. Brady was too good of a student and too important of an athlete to punish. Hell, the most he got for cutting off a section of your hair was a verbal warning. Every day, you and your friends got closer and closer to punching him in the face. None of them liked him, for good reason, but even their protection couldn’t fully stop him. Everything exploded in the spring, right before your junior prom.

You sat at your desk during your English lecture, desperately trying to pay attention to your teacher who was droning on and on about The Great Gatsby. You shifted your leg a bit, just enough to feel a piece of paper pressing into the underside of your thigh. You pulled it out, confused. 

It was a thick, decorated section of stationery with a few words scrawled on it in cursive. It read, “Meet me by the gym after school,” signed by someone who called themselves your secret admirer. You looked down at the prose. It didn’t look like Brady’s handwriting, something you were quite sure of. But who else would’ve written it? You tucked it in your pocket, not wanting to decide whether or not to go right then and there.

You did end up going, which was your biggest mistake. You sat on the edge of a planter near the entrance of the gym, picking at the seam of your shirt. It wasn’t long before everyone who had gym class last period filed out of the school, leaving you utterly alone. It also wasn’t long before Brady appeared, walking towards you like he was on a mission. 

You stood up, poised to leave if he did anything other than walk right on by. Unfortunately for you, he held up a hand as if to tell you to wait. “Hey,” he grinned, “you got my note?”

You paused. “Your note?” You didn’t think he even knew how to write in cursive, much less make it as neat as it was on the stationary. You wouldn’t be surprised if he paid one of the artsy girls to write it for him.

“Yeah.” He stared down at you. There was a gleam in his eye that you didn’t like. “I wanted to ask you to prom.”

Prom? He wanted to ask you to prom? You were baffled. There were a million better fitting people at his disposal, ones that didn’t hate him with a passion. He had made your life hell that year, and multiple years previous to that. You almost scoffed at his words.

“Well, I would rather you didn’t.” You said. You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist in a vice-like grip. His eerily green eyes burned holes into yours. 

“What, you’re just going to leave? After leading me on for so many years, playing hard to get?”

You were stunned. You weren’t aware you were playing anything. Everything he did just seemed mean, and you responded to it like any victim of bullying would. You just balked, uttering a quiet “huh?” when he wouldn’t let go. Try as you might, you couldn’t break his grip as he ranted about you being so obviously into him. He even tried to pull you closer, until two familiar hands grabbed his arm and shoved him back.

It was Rob, and he was furious. “What the fuck? Leave her alone,” he snapped, forcing himself into the gap between you and Brady. You rarely heard him curse, and you had never seen him as mad as that. Brady just rolled his eyes with a psychotic little laugh.

“Oh my god, did you think I was actually into your little girlfriend? Shove off, dude. I was joking. Who in their right mind would want that thing hanging off them in public?” he scoffed. You couldn’t tell if he was serious about anything right then. He was contradicting himself constantly. If the prom thing was a joke, was he just making fun of you again? Or if the prom thing was serious, was he deflecting? Your mind was reeling, and you just wanted to sit down and get your head straight. The place where Brady had grabbed you was pulsing, sure to form a bruise during the night.

Rob said something you didn’t remember before he put a protective hand on your shoulder and ushered you away. All you could hear was laughter, Brady’s and a couple other boys’. You didn’t even see the other boys arrive, and if they were there the whole time, you weren’t aware. The whole walk of shame just felt like a fever dream, with you fading in and out of reality until Rob sat you down on the edge of his mattress. You couldn’t even tell how you got there. Rob tilted your face towards him, concerned, and you realized you were crying.

“Don’t let him get to you.” His voice was soothing, like he was speaking to a scared puppy. “He was just being an asshole.” 

“Did you hear everything?” You sounded pathetic, but you didn’t care.

Rob shook his head. “When I came over, he was in the middle of some spiel. I was just on my way to lacrosse practice before I saw you.” Ah, yes, he was in lacrosse. And he was usually early. The things you remembered after dissociating continued to surprise you. He wiped the tears off your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

He hated seeing you like that. Brady didn’t deserve to make you cry. No one did, not even yourself. He wanted to pull you under his covers and let you sigh into his shirt, like always. He wanted you to forget about everything and just hold on to him.

You wrung your hands in your lap, trying desperately to process everything. The situation was just so… bizarre. You didn’t know what to believe, but at the end of the day, you figured it didn’t matter. Brady will be Brady. Out of nowhere, you started to laugh. Rob’s eyes widened, but he cracked a smile too.

You devolved into cackles on his bed, with him doubled over next to you. Hysterics, some might say. But it was all you could think to do at the time, all your tired mind could handle at the moment. Of course, you talked about it after, but the laughter was the key to getting you through the situation. 

You had waited all your life for a big confession of love, and your “first one” went to shit immediately. Luckily, like always, Rob was there to pick up the pieces. 

Prom came and went without another word from Brady. Instead of going to the dance, however, you and your friends spent the night at a diner. The place had a playplace definitely designed and designated for little kids, but that didn’t stop you from climbing up the sides and playing a good old game of tag. You were winded by the end, a cramp crawling its way down your side, but it was more fun than sitting around a bowl of punch would be. The dances were never your thing, anyway. 

Both Margie and Aaron had a curfew as the night marched towards 10:00, but you decided to go back to Rob’s house for a movie or two. He could drive, and it was the most amazing excuse for him to ferry everyone everywhere. He never minded. So you got in his car, and he let you choose the music, and you talked the whole way home. 

As you finally arrived, your voices fell to hushed whispers. His family was more than likely asleep—save for his brother, who was spending his first year in college on campus. Rob locked the door and fumbled for the TV remote in the near-darkness as you thumbed through his DVD collection.

There wasn’t much selection. His family encouraged spending time with each other instead of spending time staring at a screen, so their DVDs consisted of old children’s films, a few action movies, and The Princess Bride. You had seen every one of them countless times, but the action movies more so. Frankly, you were tired of Men in Black and The Terminator, so you pulled out The Princess Bride. It was his sister’s favorite, but you liked it enough.

Rob raised his eyebrows at the selection but accepted it, popping the disc into the player and tugging a blanket over your body, already nice and comfortable on the couch. 

The first few times you watched movies together, Bobby would be silent. He stared at the screen with rapt attention, losing himself in the plot and acting. Over time, as you both learned to remember each twist and even a few distinct lines, you started talking while the movie played. It went from movie discussion to just anything, with the film serving as background noise to your conversation. A bit of you wondered why you didn’t just pause the video or talk somewhere else, but it was familiar, and somehow far better than conversing in silence. This time, you were discussing how far you could go in your friendship before Rob would stop metaphorically saying “as you wish”.

“I feel like you would say no if I, like, asked if I could pick your nose. Which I wouldn’t do, but you wouldn’t let me, right?”

He considered it for a moment, shrugging noncommittally. “If I had a reason to believe there was something in it, I might.” You scrunched your nose in response, shaking your head to the thought of it.

“Well, I’m not sticking my finger up there any time soon.” You pushed his face away from yours with your finger, pressing lightly into his forehead. He fell back, settling into the couch cushions.

“Thank god. I really think I’d let you do anything, though.”

You sat up, following him onto his side of the couch. There was a playful smile on your lips. “Anything?”

He nodded, face flushed in the dim lighting. He blushed so easily at the slightest provocation—it would be funny if you hadn’t already teased him for it hundreds of times. “That’s fair. I’d probably let you do anything too, but within reason.”

He tensed, eyes flicking across your face. He seemed like he was considering something. He had a concentrated look on his face, weighing the pros and cons. You had seen that face numerous times in the past, but right now, it confused you. Before he could think any better of it, and before he could get in his head about his newfound impulsivity, he opened his mouth. “Is kissing you within reason?”

You paused. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you thought. It’s for the sake of the conversation. Right? It wasn’t like he thought about kissing you as much as you thought about kissing him. He was just so handsome, every day, all the time. It only got better with the years developing his features. It wasn’t like he had a major crush on you, too. “Sure.”

“Then…” His gaze dropped to your lips. He was hesitating, like you were going to shove him away and call him disgusting. But it was finally happening, and your heart beat faster and faster in your chest. 

“As you wish.” 

Your lips connected, and his hand cradled the back of your head. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before. 

Warm, soft, a bit of teeth, but that didn’t matter. You felt like you were flying. Your dream finally came true—the one where you had his loving touch, where you melted into his arms like he would be able to hold you together. You prayed to anyone that would listen to never let you wake up.

When you pulled away, Rob’s face was red and dazed. He could hardly believe that he did that, and that you let him. He had been harboring so many feelings, ones that he himself had only realized in middle school. He tried everything to deny them, to push them to the side, because he didn’t think he could make you as happy as you deserved. But he couldn’t deny himself enough to not kiss you, not when you looked so perfect, lit up by the television screen. He was a strong person, but not that strong. 

You were utterly flustered. A short silence filled the air for a moment before you opened your mouth, closed it, and then opened it again to speak. “So…”

“Can I be your boyfriend?” He blurted. That was quick. “I know it’s… weird, but I really love you, and I have for a while.” He looked away shyly, blue eyes pointed towards anything but you.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you smiled. 

Your school year finished with an absolute flourish. You had a boyfriend for once. Margie was delighted when she found out. 

She squealed so loudly that you thought she would collapse the walls of her room, her hands immediately finding a place on your shoulders to shake you. “You and Rob, oh, I knew it! You’re perfect together.” She had matured so much after middle school, and the thought made your lips curl up into a smile.

Telling Aaron was easier. He looked at you with a knowing smile and then nodded, satisfied that you had both pulled your heads out of your asses long enough to realize you were in love with each other. As Margie was your victim while you were contesting your feelings, he was Rob’s. He knew that everything would work out better than any of you. 

Bobby didn’t quite know how to go about informing his family, so he decided on inviting you over for dinner and giving a whole, uninterrupted speech about how he wanted to let them know that you were more than just a friend now. His little sister, Jodie, just rolled her eyes and said, “We know.” He reddened under their laughter, but his hand was firm in holding yours under the table. 

Your mom was the person you were most worried about. She liked Rob, but you had never really been able to talk to her about those things. In the end, you casually dropped it during a conversation, she made some little comment about it, and you moved on. It wasn’t much of a big deal.

After the initial reactions, your relationship with him didn’t change much. You still did everything together, and you still spent hours talking with him, but there were a few sneaky kisses in between words and a few instances of hand-holding. It was heaven. 

Despite you having a similar dynamic, it felt more real, like you weren’t skirting around a touchy subject anymore. You were fully immersed in said subject, and Rob was the perfect accomplice. 

You knew him to be kind, gentle, and smart, but everything was amplified tenfold over the summer before your senior year. He held you with a special determination, never hiding how much he loved you through touch alone. He pulled you away from Brady whenever he approached, letting you hold his hand instead of looking at him. You saw a side of him that he kept carefully locked away.

 He never left behind his love of comics and flying, but he let you in on those secrets. He finally told you that he was applying to the Naval Academy (which you realized was the reason he was spending so much time at the gym, and why he was an Eagle Scout, and captain of the lacrosse team, etc. etc.), and even though he was worried that you would react badly, you tried to support him. It lifted a kind of weight off of his shoulders and let him be fully honest with you about everything. 

You had never been in a better place. He kissed you, brought you flowers, held your hand, and walked on the outside of the sidewalk. A gentleman, as he always had been. 

One of your favorite memories during that time was when he took you out to eat with his first ever paycheck. It wasn’t any place particularly fancy, as he worked a minimum wage job flipping burgers, but it was special all the same.

Rob was dressed in a polo, hair smoothed and combed (which was a whole lot better than his style in middle school, in your opinion), and glasses perched on his nose. He had taken to wearing them again as he hated getting dry eyes while working out. And, man, did he work out. He was getting a bit big for his clothing, his arms pushing against the fabric of his shirt, and chest noticeably straining against the cloth. You pulled your eyes away from his body, face a little warm when you noticed he noticed.

For once, you didn’t know what to talk about. It was your first real, proper date, and the pressure left your mouth dry. You drummed your fingers on the table before deciding to end the tension. “Do you remember when we first met?”

He blinked, but smiled fondly at the memory. “Yeah. I still had that big cast, and you didn’t have any shoes on. I was jealous, you know,” he laughed lightly, “you got to feel the ground with both your feet.”

He reached out to take your hand, but stopped just short of your digits. You closed the gap and linked your fingers. “I was jealous that you had a cast with signatures on it. Apparently breaking a bone was cool to me, until I realized it meant you couldn’t go splash in the creek or roll down a hill.”

“That was awful. I think I cried once because I couldn’t chase a newt into the water.”

“And I had to sit by the edge of the stream and hold your glasses so you could wipe your eyes!” It was like yesterday for you, hand resting on his shoulder and mouth whispering soothing words until he could pick his glasses from your outstretched hand. He didn’t cry often, but you supposed that particular day took a toll on him in a way that you could not recall.

“You’ve always been great at comforting me.”

“I haven’t done it in a while, though. Hey, maybe you should get that boot back so I can see if I still have the magic touch,” you teased. He shook his head vigorously.

“Are you kidding me? I never want to see another medical boot again.” He paused. “Well, actually, it wouldn’t be so bad if you were there. Y’know, for moral support.”

You rolled your eyes, but your mouth betrayed you as it formed a smile. “For sure. I would dote on you—cucumbers on your eyes, a warm towel wrapping your hair, anything you want. Maybe I could even carry you down to the creek and find a few newts for you.”

“Carry me? You would probably break your back.” he scoffed, somewhat shyly. You didn’t even know a person could scoff shyly, but he was the king of consistency; he did everything with that little bashful tilt of his head.

“You never know. I’ve gotten pretty strong lately.”

“Show me sometime, then we can discuss the ‘carrying me down to the creek’ thing.”

“...give me a few more years and we’ll see.”

You talked about memories for hours upon end, until the restaurant workers had to gently push you out the door. The time you accidentally ate a fly while swinging, and he consoled you as you washed your mouth out a million times. When Margie accidentally left you two locked in her closet because she didn’t want her parents to make you leave. Even when Rob’s parents sat you down and said it would be okay with them if you two dated—which was met with outward disgust and internal hope. Throughout the reminiscence, his hand was held tightly in yours, and his eyes sometimes watered. It took everything in you to not sob at the idea of not being able to form these kinds of memories with him. It was kind of your last-ditch effort to truly be with him, in a way that no one else could be, before school started up again. You knew that soon, you would be stuck in class, and after that… after that, there were but a few brief weeks until he had to leave. You hadn’t been apart from him since you met, and each new day ticked down like a massive, ominous clock. You would just have to wait for him to return, as you waited for him to arrive in the first place. 

Just like you assumed it would, time passed quickly. Senior year was packed with homework, tests, college applications, more homework, more tests, watching lacrosse matches, cheering and whooping at football games, club meetings, swinging on the local park’s swings until you got sick with laughter, driving, and breaking curfew. It was fun. Everything could be fun if it was with the right people.

After things had died down, you discovered that your college and Naval Academy decisions happened to align somewhat perfectly with each other. Margie, Aaron, and you all got your letters a few days before Rob did, and you waited to open them together. Even holding the envelopes was stressful, like your entire future rode on a few printed words. They did, actually. That made it even scarier.

“Okay, we’ve all actually got to open them this time,” Margie groaned. She had counted down from three at least four times at this point. You and the boys were too scared to rip open the seals. It was amazing that she had held back from tearing them apart herself. “Three, two… one!”

The sound of tearing paper filled Rob’s bedroom, and you all eagerly held up the letters to the soft, warm glow of his overhead light. 

Congratulations!

Congratulations!

Congratulations!

…pleased to offer you…

You did it. You all did it. A beat of shocked silence filled the air as you took glance after glance at your own and everyone else’s papers, but it was quickly broken by Margie’s scream. She threw her arms around you, tackling you to the floor, as she yelled, “Everyone got in! Everyone got in! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” You laughed in her grasp, everyone releasing a breath of relief that they didn’t know they were holding. Margie pulled Rob and Aaron into her bear hug as well, until everyone was in a big, happy pile. A twinge in your heart knew that these letters meant nothing would ever be the same again, but you pushed it aside for the joy of now.

Rob grinned, his glasses crooked on his face. “Good job, guys. Congrats. You all really deserve it.”

“You deserve it too, Bobby. Getting into the academy is hard, but I know you worked harder.” You gave him a peck on the cheek as Margie swooned and Aaron gagged. 

It took about two more seconds for the moment to devolve. Aaron folded his acceptance letter into a boat, which he then got stuck in Margie’s hair. Six pairs of hands worked to detangle it, but she didn’t make it any easier with the amount of giggles she was releasing. It was going to be okay, you thought. High school would end, and college would begin, but you could deal with everything coming your way. Your best friends would be with you, and your best-est friend would be an email away. An email and a million miles, but an email nonetheless. He had already created a folder just for you. 

Things changed, as they always have and always will. You would cry, and yes, you were stuck biding the time before your soon-to-be long distance boyfriend returned, but that change was beautiful.

After packing your meager belongings into a duffel bag and a half-wheeled suitcase, your mom drove you to your college dorm for move-in day. She was sad to see you go, but she joked that she could host the A.A. meetings in your room during your absence. She was okay to live on her own, she assured you. For the first time in a long time, you fully believed her.

She helped you set up, greeting Margie as well, then gave you a squeezing hug and walked back to her car. You likely wouldn’t be able to see her for a while, considering that you didn’t have your own car, but you had survived without her in the past, and you would again. 

Everything felt new and exciting, the world alight with opportunities. Every class prompted a discussion within yourself, and every party forced that discussion to present itself. You found that enjoying reality had a sort of grounding effect, even when you were clinging to a wall during a wildly chaotic frat house rager. Margie had joined the adjoining sorority, so those things were often places you could hang out. Man, did you hang out.

With (almost) complete and utter freedom, you could do just about anything. You worked at a Jersey Mike’s on campus, so you had access to free sandwiches and money; that meant the world was your oyster. You and your friends dabbled in school organizations, danced to loud music, stuck your heads out of sunroofs, and edged your way into the campus culture. The librarian ended up kicking you and your English 101 classmates out of the library after you violated the “quiet study” rule a few too many times. 

The school part was, admittedly, less fun, but it was a good experience nonetheless. You ended up switching majors twice during your first two years of college, as you were not exactly sure what would be useful or even what you wanted out of life, but you settled on something eventually. Aaron stuck straight on his path to pre-med with biology, while Margaret switched from political science to education. As the general education requirements were fulfilled and the more targeted classes began, your hangouts dulled down a little bit. Aaron was constantly stressed and no longer had time to roll down the sunroof, and even Margie had things to do. She was interning at a school district a few miles from campus. The new friends you made had less and less time to talk. It left you feeling a little disgruntled, but between harder work and dictating your newly boring life to Bob, there was no time to spare.

He started signing off his emails as Bob; whether it was to sound professional or because it was what everyone in the academy called him, it didn’t matter. You accepted it, like you did so many things about him.

One email chain in particular is now printed out on thick, bordered paper, stuck in one of your million half-filled-in photo albums. You thumb through them from time to time, just to look at the memories. 

From: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Hello, my love!

I haven’t had a chance to read your past emails, sorry! They keep me busy here (not as busy as plebe summer though haha) and downtime is a thing of the past. I will read them in a few days, if all things go well. I’ll tell you about my past few weeks in the meantime. Well, my past few weeks haven’t been all too interesting, but I figured I’d write it down anyway.

Mickey and I have been going through the motions. The classes can be tough, but nothing compares to Ms. Norton’s gov assignments. There’s workouts, class, and a little downtime before it all starts up again. Luckily, I’ve been getting more freedom lately. That’s the perk of being a responsible student ;)

Yesterday, I saw this guy flick peas at his friend (were they friends? Possibly, maybe, I’m not sure) and get absolutely torn apart by an instructor that was watching. I had to cover Mickey’s mouth before he laughed so he wouldn’t get reprimanded. That’s the kind of “exciting” thing that happens here, by the way; I’m sure the others get up to mischief, but with the hawks watching and the stakes so high? I’d rather imagine all the trouble you get into at college instead. It softens the blow.

That being said, enough about me. I want you to send me a million (ok, maybe not a million, I’d be fine with a couple thousand) emails about everything you do. I hope that wasn’t super creepy. I just miss you a lot.

I miss your humor, your laugh, and your smile. I miss feeling your thumb rubbing the back of my hand when you get bored. I miss smelling your shampoo, and I miss kissing you. I wish I had snuck some of your perfume in with me along with the photos, but that might be too sappy of me. I’d get made fun of relentlessly if this email were to fall into the wrong hands, but I don’t care anymore. Oh, I miss home, too, so visit my family when you have the chance. Tell me everything.

Anyways, I hope this email finds you well. I’ve got to go to bed now, but I’m sure I’ll be dreaming about you. Catch you at midnight!

Love,

Bob. 

P.S.: Mickey wanted to say hi, so I let him have the keyboard for a few seconds. Bob is such a sap about u, Hometown Girl, I send my deepest sympathies. Also HELLO! -That was Mickey. Expect a message from him every email from now on, because he won’t stop threatening to tape my socks to the ceiling??

To: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Hi Bob!! And hello Mickey. I hope he hasn’t been bringing me up too much.

Don’t worry about reading all my emails all the time—nothing too eventful ever happens anyway. And if it did, I’m sure Margie and Aaron would let you know as well. 

All the work you guys have to do sounds insane, like crazy insane. I don’t think I could ever work out and then go through a million tough classes. I die after 30 minutes at the gym. You’re lucky all the instructors like you, because I’m sure the others get a ton of flack. 

The most trouble I’ve gotten into this week was forgetting my homework and having to lie to my teacher. I told her I got frat flu and couldn’t get out of my dorm to go to the library… which was highly unethical, but you do what you have to do. As for the others, I haven’t seen Aaron in weeks because he’s prepping for his finals. We just finished midterms. He’s so studious it actually shocks me. Our favorite roommate is asleep at 7:49 PM, and I have to shield my laptop screen from shining too close to her. I’m sure she gets into trouble that I don’t even want to think about… she brought two separate guys to the room within four hours. TMI, but you’ve heard it all anyway.

Instead of a million emails, I hope a few long ones will suffice. I miss you too, so much. I hate having to wrap my arms around a pillow instead of you—it should be classified as a deficiency, honestly. A Bobby deficiency. I’m the sickest patient imaginable. 

I visited the fams on Sunday. Jodie is doing really well in high school! She’s in all the advanced art classes and is enjoying her schedule immensely. Chris was there too, with his fiance. Which reminds me: even though the wedding hasn’t even been planned yet and probably won’t be for a couple years, he wants you to be his best man!!! He asked me to warn you before the fancy wedding court invitations go out. Brotherly love and all that. You don’t have to say yes, he said, but he wants that unfortunate little buzz cut by his side on his big day.

Your parents are doing well, and so is my mom. We’re all getting together this weekend to prep a giant care package, which I hope will be well enjoyed by you and your friends. I need to finish up my stats homework (ugh), so I’ll cut this message short, but expect more after I close my textbook. I hope to see you in dream world too <3

Love,

Hometown Girl.

From: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Good morning, Randle,

I was wondering about placing a hold on the item we spoke about over the phone. I can call again on Saturday, sometime during the afternoon. Please reach out if it’s still an option.

Thanks,

Robert Floyd.

From: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Sorry about that last email, honey! That wasn’t meant for you. I’m just looking at a lock for my bag. Mickey likes to rifle through my things. I’ll email you more later.

Love,

Bob.

To: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

It’s alright, enjoy your lock lol.

Love,

Not Randle.

You didn’t have any reason to question his words at the time. Well, you never had a reason to question any of his words, because he could beat George Washington in a telling-the-truth competition. Now, you know that Bob’s a damn good liar—not that he would ever lie to hurt you. It’s just the nice secrets he keeps, like the one he kept the entire time he was training to be a naval aviator.

As his education progressed, though, his eyesight kept him from doing the one thing he truly wanted to do: be a pilot. He just missed the requirement, as he explained in a short, sad email after his eye test. It was crushing, to say the least, but Bob bounced back quickly. He always did. He was never one to sit and mope about a problem, no, he took the next best thing. He began training to be a weapon systems officer, and he was damn good at it.

His graduation, adorned with the markings of a star student, came with no surprise, and neither did his transition to the actual Navy. He did flight training, conditioning, and every other rigorous step to climb his way to the top; by the end, he was a new man. He graduated from Top Gun for god’s sake. Documenting his development were emails, short visits, letters, the whole shebang. 

The one thing that didn’t change was his love.

He was still goofy, nerdy, and kind. His skin may have been tougher, after years of being hardened by the world around him, but he took the time to care for the people in his life. He people-watched, just as he always did, and called you every sweet nickname that would get anyone lesser embarrassed. He still blushed like a madman, whether it was from pulling Gs or your tight hugs. And, which may just be the best thing he kept, he maintained his loyalty to the people in his past. He was a Montana kid, through and through.

You changed, he changed, the world changed. Everything was constantly moving. You maintained consistency in your waiting, though. That was the only thing that didn’t budge. You marked the dates that Bob would come back home in your calendar, counting down every second like you would miss him if you didn’t. One of those dates ended up being Margie’s wedding.

The year of weddings was upon you; Bob’s brother had just gotten married half a year before, and three of your other friends got married between then and Margaret’s wedding. Even Aaron was eyeing rings, constantly emailing you pictures from catalogs in an attempt to find the “perfect” band for his boyfriend. It came with being full-fledged adults, you assumed. Everyone was settled in their grown-up jobs or grad school, and therefore had more time to spend with their respective partners. Except for Bob, of course. He was sent everywhere under the sun. From Virginia to Hawaii, Hawaii to Texas, Texas to Nevada, and, most recently, Nevada to California. The last in-person interaction you had with him was four months ago when you flew to Lemoore to visit. There was no time for proposals, even if you had been with him long enough to be considered married in everyone else’s eyes. 

You were Margie’s maid of honor. You helped with planning, invitations, booking, buying, organizing, setting up, and pretty much all the details since she showed you the large, sparkling diamond on her ring finger. You even helped pick out her dress. It was a classic ball gown-style beauty, with delicate lace and heavy frills. It was exactly her. 

Bob was a groomsman, even though he and the groom weren’t particularly close. It was your closeness to both Margie and her fiance that brought him to the bachelor party in the first place. In the days before the wedding, you and Bob shared a room close to the wedding venue.

Being with him again made you the happiest you had been in a long time. You felt complete, like when he was gone, your heart just ached and ached until he could come plug up the holes again. Living in that small motel room was a breath of fresh air, and sharing a bed with him in complete privacy was amazing in more ways than one.

It was strange, in a way, like you didn’t really know him anymore. He had friends you had never met and a job you knew nothing about in a place you had only visited once, but he was intricately tied to your hometown through a series of souls and bonds. He was balancing between two worlds, and a part of you wondered where he would fall if the beam were to become unsteady. And another part of you hoped he would take you with him when the time came.

During the ceremony the next day, you thought that you wanted to be the one walking down the aisle next. 

The wedding went well, as most weddings did. There were tears from you, tears from the audience, tears from everyone except for the children Margie taught, as they were too young to really understand the beauty of two people devoting their lives to each other. The cake was cut, frosting smeared on the newlyweds’ cheeks, the dances flowed flawlessly, the pictures turned out perfect, and even Margie’s mother-in-law was happy. It was honestly the most beautiful wedding you had witnessed in your life.

When the time came for the bouquet toss, you were so far back in the crowd that it didn’t even have a chance of landing in your outstretched hands. You stood there for moral support, really, as the girls around you pushed their way to the front. There was a countdown, a little shove from the person next to you, and a bouquet of poppies tossed high into the air. It sailed in an arc, red and orange streaking through the air. Despite everything, despite the odds being stacked against you, it was heading right in your direction.

You reached one arm out, squished between bodies, and caught it.

The uproar of the people around you filled your ears as you pulled the flowers to your chest. The crowd parted, and Margie came barrelling towards you, wrapping you in her lacy arms. “Yes! I just knew you would catch it, I always do. You’ve got to help me plan the wedding when it happens, because I know it will, and you’re going to need the perfect dress and the perfect venue and the prettiest invitations and…”

She carried on for a while, and you smiled into the soft, decorative leaves. 

You saved the flower petals, pressed in a big dictionary under your desk. You saved every flower you had ever been given. Parts of them, at least. Your corsage from senior prom, the bouquets Bob had shipped to your door, and the marigolds your mother grew in her new garden are spread out across your bedroom. Most of your memories are tucked away in secret places, only noticeable if you know where to look.

After the wedding, you returned to your little apartment, smack in the middle of the busiest part of your town. The cars speeding by were significantly worse than Bob’s light snoring. It was the first time you had lived on your own, though, which was supposed to be important. You were free.

You could eat ice cream for breakfast, or in the late hours of the night, and you could sing loudly in the shower. You could even buy most of the clothes you saw in stores on your brand new salary and organized savings. However, you found that you didn’t necessarily want to do all that. You just wanted every day to be over already. Work was too much, waking up to an upset stomach was too much, checking your email every thirty minutes and seeing nothing was too much, and those goddamn people in the room above yours were too much, constantly blasting music and stomping around. Like always, you found yourself waiting for things to change again. You imagined you were anywhere else with anyone else, finding a sick sense of comfort in the fantasies. You thought you put those little phases behind you, but being an adult alone was so frustrating that you found yourself going back to old patterns.

Margie was caught up in the married life, Aaron was constantly working, and your frequently long-distance boyfriend was states away. The only comfort you got was periodic visits to your old neighborhood, checking up on your mom and Bob’s family. 

You stood in the middle of Georgia Floyd’s flower bed, tugging at a weed, hands adorned with thick, weathered gloves. The thing just wasn’t coming out. The little thorns were sticking to your sleeves, and you were drenched with sweat. It was the beginning of fall, and the leaves were turning all shades of fiery reds and somber oranges, but the sun was still high in the sky. The thriving asters and dahlias next to you taunted you with their beauty, bending in the slight breeze. Georgia stood in the shade of her doorway, one hand on her hip and the other holding a glass of lemonade. “Sweetheart, you’ve been workin’ so hard here. Take a drink, go home, be merry. I’ll get B… I’ll get someone else to pick up where you left off, ‘kay?”

You sighed, wiping the perspiration away from your brow with your forearm. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” She handed you the glass and shooed you away from her flowers, making sure to take the gardening gloves you had peeled off and tucked under your arm. 

You hadn’t expected to be weeding today, but with Jodie at a friend’s house, Chris a state away on a work trip, and Bob’s father, Harold, off somewhere, she needed a helping hand. She had gotten a bit weaker over the years, no longer able to bend as well as she needed to in order to clear away the low-growing weeds, and you loved her more than enough to help out. You were her second daughter, she always said. A part of the family, no matter what. You walked across the street to your mom’s place and opened the door with your key. 

She had to go grocery shopping a while earlier, leaving you alone in the house. Given that the grocery shop was less than five minutes away by car, she should’ve been back by then. You didn’t pay it much mind, though. You just stepped into your bathroom, hung up your clothes, and took a well-deserved shower. 

After a good forty-five minutes of steam, hair dryers, and other pampering, you were ready to do absolutely nothing. The chair on your small front porch was all set up, and you held a book in your hands, ready to sit and see the yellow and orange sky cascade over the pages. When you stepped through your doorway, however, someone was waiting for you.

Bob. His hair had changed since you last saw him. It was longer but still military-issued, combed neatly, not a lock out of place. He was dressed well, too, with slacks and a slightly open button-up. You were suddenly glad that you had put on the prettiest dress in your arsenal—one he knew very well. He opened his mouth and then shut it with a look of determination.

“Bobby? What are you doing here?” you asked. He wasn’t expected back for months yet, and you certainly didn’t think he had time to visit. You were happy to see him, of course. Hell, you were overjoyed to be in his presence. But what was he doing?

He stepped forward, shined shoes crunching on a bit of gravel, and you met him in the middle. As he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight to his chest, you breathed him in. He was really here, back home, after all that time. You finally pulled away after what seemed like eons and a millisecond all at once, and he clasped your hands in his, your book forgotten on the ground. His eyes were stormy, brimming with what looked like an onslaught of tears. You rubbed your thumbs up and down his hands worriedly. 

“Is everything okay?” Your voice came out as a tremble, slightly terrified at the prospect of something having gone wrong. Did someone die? Did he almost die? It didn’t help that he cleared his throat like he was steeling his nerves.

He put one of your hands on his chest, over his fluttering heart, and pressed a gentle kiss to the other. “There’s something I need to ask you.” You nodded, too concerned to speak. “I’ll… I’ll start with this. I love you so much it hurts me. When I first met you, years ago, I knew that I wanted to be around you forever. Your kindness, curiosity, your heart, everything just pulled me in and never let me go—not that I ever wanted to go, no, I knew you were too special to leave behind. I had to put so much in the past, but not you. Never you. I grew with you, and laughed with you, and loved you in a million ways. Throughout all that time, you waited and gave me your utmost support when my dreams took me a thousand miles away. Now, I’m still living a thousand miles away, but I don’t want you to wait here anymore. I want you to come with me and stay.” He took a breath, and his heart hammered under your fingertips. “What I’m really trying to get at is that I want to have a future with you. I want to be your husband.”

The world stopped in that moment. Did you hear him correctly? His eyes searched for a response on your face as he slid a black, velvety case out of his back pocket. He slowly lowered to one knee, keeping eye contact, and opening the box to show you the shiny contents.

“Sweetheart, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

You brought your hands up to your mouth. After all this time, the moment you dreamed of as a kid was finally happening. You nodded once, dropping down on your knees and nodding a million more times. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you breathed, voice loud and quiet at the same time. Your arms found their place around him, like they had many times before, but something was different. New, in a good way. Like you were safe, completely safe.

Like while his ring was on your finger, you would never have to wait to be loved again.

You smile at the printed digital photos spread out on your bed. Bobby hugging you in 5th grade, the both of you in matching witch and black cat costumes, pumpkin buckets dangling from your fists. A snapshot of “the shaving incident”, in which you had come out with cut up legs and Robert with a cut up face. There was even a silly photo of him carrying you bridal style on your prom night, with your arm thrown over your face like a swooning princess. Your favorites, though, are the proposal photos.

Your mom hid around the corner to take pictures of your silhouettes in the sunset, while Bob’s mom pulled out her camera from across the street. They had coordinated everything perfectly, down to the fake shopping trip and weeding break. It was no coincidence that your mother washed the load of laundry that contained your favorite dress first. The meticulous planning from the people who know your routines best still makes your head spin when you think about it. They all knew about the proposal for at least a week before it happened, and they made sure it was absolutely perfect, down to the manicured background and time of day. Bob even managed to get away from work for a couple days to propose.

The ring is beautiful too. It’s the perfect mix between flashy and subtle, the main stone is cut exactly how you like it, and the band is the right amount of tight. When you asked your fiance about how he got it so exact to everything you had dreamed of, he said, “research”. You later found out from his mom that he had bought the ring while he was still at the Naval Academy from the best jeweler he could find: Randle Montgomery. Knowing that he was planning on proposing all those years ago makes it a different kind of special.

Your closet is open, the boxes and boxes of memories all pulled out and scattered around your room. The dictionary under your desk has been opened, and the flower petals and other flower material placed carefully into a container. A few minutes earlier, you even stumbled upon a written agreement you and Bob signed in middle school, agreeing to marry each other if you weren’t taken by 30. The wooden rose he gave you, also in middle school, was halfway sticking out of a cardboard holder, leaning on a series of first day of school photos Georgia took. You’ve taken to calling her Mom now, at her request.

All of your photo albums are open, with most of the pictures taken out. You’re trying to compile everything, every memory, into a new, large album. The new album is brown leather, stamped and embroidered with little inside jokes and important moments. Inside, you’ve documented every single stage in your life with Bob.

Some of the pictures even feature Margie, her husband, Aaron, Jodie, Chris, Georgia, Harold, your mom, Mickey, and everyone you’ve met along the way. Seeing the compilation of every person, every moment, that made you who you are brings tears to your eyes. 

You spend the next two hours tucking pictures, flower petals, and anything flat enough to fit into the album. By the time you’re done, your hands are coated in a fine layer of dust, and your front door is opening. 

“Honey, I’m home!” the intruder calls, and you hear the telltale jingling of him placing his keys on the bookshelf in your living room. You stand up, wipe your hands on your pants, and walk out of your shared bedroom.

Bob unzips his flight suit to the middle, letting it hang around his waist for the time being. His boots are neatly placed with the rest of his shoes; he’s tidy even when he’s tired, which is a phenomenon you don’t understand whatsoever. His hair is messy, his glasses are crooked, and he’s giving you a tired little smile. It was surely a long day for him. You open your arms, and he slouches into you like he was meant to be there.

“I was just about to get dinner started. Go take a nap, and it’ll be done by the time you wake up,” you murmur, kissing through his undershirt. He shakes his head softly. His hands hold steady on your waist, his pulse humming through the contact. 

“I’ll help. What were you thinking for tonight?”

You lead him into the kitchen, pulling out various ingredients from the pantry on the way. Pasta sauce clinks on the tile counter as you say, “Pasta. It’s quick enough. I’ll put mushrooms in the sauce, too, as a treat. You deserve it after the day I’m sure you’ve had.”

“You read my mind, baby,” he sighs, resting his head on you. “We had some rough ejections, but nothing too scary. And there’s talk of calling a few people to San Diego for a Top Gun mission, so every little mistake pulls people further away from that opportunity.”

He steps away from you for a moment. The absence of warmth sends a chill down your spine, but after he opens the box of spaghetti and turns up the heat on the pot of water you’ve placed on top of the stove, he stands behind you again. You look up from your place chopping vegetables. “Do you want to go back to San Diego? I feel like we just got settled in Lemoore.”

“Well, I’d like to marry you before moving, but I’d be honored to be a part of Top Gun again. Those missions are… dangerous, though, to say the least, so I want to have a wedding ring with my dog tags.”

You tap on his chest lightly, eyebrows furrowed. “If you do get chosen, you’d better be careful. I’m not prepared to be a widow.”

He smiles, a little sadly and a little reassuringly. “I’ll do my best.” 

When you hear the pot of water boiling, Bob drops the pasta in, and you turn your attention to the sauce simmering in your saucepan. You add mushrooms, onion, some ground beef, parmesan, and a lot of love. Before long, both parts are done, and you put a heaping portion on your fiance’s plate.

Your dining room furniture is basic, just a wooden table and two chairs. Neither of you have been able to decorate the house to your standards, considering you’re both working and you just moved in a month ago. It’s nice, though. Not permanent by any means, but nice. 

Not having any big decorations make it easier to move, you figure. By now, you know very well that living with a Naval aviator means moving from place to place until he gets a permanent station. Even then, there’s a chance they could change their minds and slap him onto the opposite side of the country. You’re just hoping that you can get married by a beach before that happens.

Speaking of the wedding, you need to do some serious planning. You swallow your bite of pasta. “I finished the photo album today.”

“Really? That’s great!” Bob beams. “I’m going to call the venue after work tomorrow to see if the date we picked out is possible. If it is, I think we can put the album by the entrance so people can look through it.”

“That sounds really good. Margie’s coming down next week to help me pick out decorations and stuff, so we need to decide on a color palette.”

“Hm… what do you think about our favorite colors? So we can represent both of us together.”

All the wedding talk makes you both excited and tired. You want to marry the love of your life and have a great time doing it, so every detail needs to be looked over again and again to ensure it goes according to plan. Bob’s a great help, despite him having so little time during the day. Living with him, finally, is like a dream come true. 

Everything is like a dream come true now. When you were little, before the Floyds appeared in your life like a fairy god-family, you prayed for something like this to happen. You begged and pleaded for your mom to get better, for you to have friends, for you to fall in love. Every part of that, miraculously, happened. Your life changed from miserable to joyous in a matter of days.

You’re going to marry the boy next door, and you’re going to be happy doing it. As you settle into bed, with his arm around you and a ring carefully placed on your bedside table, you think that all you’ve ever waited for has finally come to lull you to sleep.

Taglist: @withahappyrefrain @seitmai @winelover27 @shinzowosasageyoooo

[cardierreh15]

Phoenix: Story of the Lost Fire Princess

Y’all are going to be getting a lot more Geralt content because our baby won’t be playing him anymore. I’m only trying to help keep dreams alive. Happy Halloween Everyone 🎃

**I do not give anyone the permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Sparring . (Innocent, no bloodshed)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Phoenix (Curvy African American Woman)

Description: Just a friendly sparring match 😈

Word Count: 2.0K

Chapter 5: The formidable Opponent.

TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!’ The repetitive sounds and the forced grunts caused Phoenix to toss and turn all morning. Thankfully, she had gotten plenty of sleep last night and it felt so good to be sleeping on something other than the ground for once. She sat up, groaning a little bit as she felt the sting in her hip. It had been sometime since the werewolf attack, but she was still human at the end of the day and if she wasn’t careful enough— it would never truly heal properly. So she carefully pulled herself from the bed and stretched out her body. Relaxing her muscles and bones so she could go about her did with little to no straining.

After she was done, she looked up at the chest that was by the door. There was a brush sitting on top of what had seem to be trousers and a blouse. She reached behind herself pulled at one of the corset strings and untied it. She then quickly got dressed. The button down blouse was a crème colored with flared, ruffled wrists. A tad bit tight at the waist to define her curves, and it had flared, ruffles at the hem. The trousers, were made of fine leather. Slightly scuffed from the previous wearer, but she was grateful for how comfortable they were. These gave her a nice contour to her thighs, hips and rump. Hmph, she’d have to come shop at Motel Kaer Morhen a lot more.

Phoenix walked out of her chambers, pulling her hair back into a sleek curly ponytail that fell down her back like waterfalls. Her boots clicked down the hall happily as she approached the gruff mumbling of Vesemir’s voice.

As she walked into the dining hall, she took notice how the men didn’t take notice of her this morning. That was kind of refreshing to say the least. They were talking amongst themselves, chuckling and sharing witty jokes. But Geralt was no where to be found. She walked over to Vesemir who was stirring something in the cauldron, ‘Good Morning Vesemir.’ Her voice slightly tired but still liberating and pleasing to the ears.

‘Good Morning, Phoenix. I trust you slept well!’ He didn’t turn to look at her, he just kept his eye on that food. ‘Yes. Someone told me before that if there are in rats around… it’s warm enough.’ She giggled and glanced down at the pot. ‘I slept fine, thank you. Where are Geralt and Ciri?’

To be frank, this was probably the first time in weeks that she hadn’t awakened to the sight of Geralt’s face. It was like her routine was disturbed! Finally, Vesemir turned to look at her, ‘They’re outside in the training yard. You should go with them? There’s no such thing as too much training. I’m sure they’ll be pleased to have you.’

Phoenix nodded and gave him a soft smile, ‘Sure. Thank You.’ She gave him a simple bow and walked towards the back doors, that opened to a world of mysterious contraptions and training tactics.

She stood there on top of the stairs as tiny snowflakes fell on top of her and instantly melted. She watched as Ciri stabbed and swung at that dummy over and over again. Well, that’s where the tapping and grunting came from. ‘What a relief.’ She thought. ‘Again, Ciri.’ Geralt called out, leaning against a destroyed statue with his arms folded across his chest. ‘Yah! Hugh! Urgh!’ She grunted out, swinging and stabbing harder, faster.

The woman glanced at Geralt for a brief moment then back at Ciri. She was starting to notice how frustrated Ciri had become, so she spoke up. ‘I think that’s enough!’ She raised her hand as she descended from the few stone steps. Geralt looked over his shoulder and Ciri turned around. She smiled at the sight of her new friend. And her eyes clearly thanked her for cutting a training session that was going nowhere. ‘I think the girl is tired of the doll. I think she will learn better if she had another moving part.’ She placed her hands on hips as she stood next to him.

Geralt narrowed his eyes, looking down at her, ‘you’re suggesting her go against me?’

‘No. Of course not. Sure you have your patience, Witcher but you Witcher’s are—‘ she walked over to the wooden swords, ‘Sloppy.’ She teased with a smirk. Cirilla tried to hide her giggle from her father by looking away. But he’d caught it anyway.

‘Come Cirilla. Let’s see what the old man had taught you hmm?’ And she stepped forward.

Cirilla looked up at Geralt with pleading eyes, ‘May I?’

Geralt looked down at her and then back up at Phoenix. He didn’t say a word, instead he just jerked his over. And Ciri flashed the happiest grin anyone had ever seen, then she skipped over to Phoenix.

Phoenix took a second to look her over. She stood in a protective yet, striking stance, ready to attack or shield. ‘Hmm, good stance Ciri.’ She complimented and took a chance to swing the wooden sword. But Ciri was fast! She blocked the attack then parried it with a push back.

Stumbling back, ‘Oof!’ Phoenix caught her balance and raised a brow. ‘Not bad, Cirilla!’ Could she really say she was surprised? Geralt smirked in pride.

Phoenix stood up straight before she took her stance. ‘OK, I won’t be stopping this time. Try to fend me off ya?’ Ciri nodded, taking a deep breath, ‘OK.’ And she took her stance as well.

Phoenix swung at her side and she blocked it beautifully. This time, the girls didn’t stop. They pushed one another. Swinging harder and faster, trying to simply keep up with one another. But it wasn’t until Ciri found herself getting too comfortable. She took her eyes off of Phoenix for a mere two seconds and Phoenix was able to kick at her wrist to disarm her, and point the tip of the wooden sword at the side of her neck. The girls stared at one another, breathing heavily. ‘Never. Get too comfortable. Complacency can become a weakness. And your opposer won’t hesitate to gut you if you aren’t quick enough.’

Phoenix glanced over at Geralt. He had stared; intrigued about what he had just saw. But then, Ciri quickly smacked the sword out of her hand and pulled her dagger off her hip. She then rested the blade right beneath Phoenix’s chin. ‘Sorry, you were open and distracted.’

Phoenix stared at her for a little bit until a giggle had left her lips. Then Ciri had joined her, placing her dagger back into her holster. ‘Good Job, sweet heart,’ she placed her warm hands on Ciri’s cheeks, ‘I am proud of you.’ She then dropped her hands, ‘Go inside. Quench your thirst, you must be dying by now!’

‘I will,’ she sighed heavily, ‘Are you coming inside?’

‘Shortly darling, shortly.’ And she gave Ciri and slight bow before the girl turned away and walked back inside of the miniature castle.

Letting out a shudder of air, she looked over at Geralt who had finally pushed himself up from the wall and started to approach her. ‘You’ve got your hands full with that one. I thought the twins would give me more hell.’ She joked around and picked up both of the wooden swords.

‘Care to have a sparring match with me?’ He asked.

Phoenix paused for a second and then a smirk curled on her lips, ‘I thought you’d never ask, Witcher. Here—‘ ‘No,’ he glanced down at the wooden cravings and then back at her, ‘The real things. These are lighter, easier to move with. Let’s see how you work.’ He gently took them away from her and walked over to the training rack.

She raised a brow, ‘You’ve seen me work. Was it not real enough for you?’ She scuffed and rolled her eyes.

‘Of course it was Princess,’ he grabbed two regular swords and started to walk back over to her. ‘But you’ve never fought a Witcher.’ He smirked and handed her the handle. ‘We both have the same swords. No advantages, no enhancements. Just steel.’ He gently clinked his blade against hers before he stood across from her.

Phoenix lifted her chin, with her lips pressed together. ‘Fine.’

‘Don’t worry. I promise not to hurt you.’ It sounded reassuring yet, cunning and malicious.

Geralt swing first, leaving Phoenix no choice but to block the attack and strike back. He’d given her no choice now. It was like once they’ve started, they couldn’t stop! It was like dancing and it was fun— all until Phoenix decided to turn up the heat.

(Not Phoenix, just depictions of what happened lol)

Geralt had swung his sword at her chest, and not only had it been sliced open, the first few buttons had popped and be scattered across the snow. She looked down, quickly noticing the breeze at her chest, she looked down and then back up at him. ‘Ugh, you know— I liked this shirt!’ She frowned and allowed the heat to travel from her hand to the metal. The sword glowed bright as the sun. And her beautiful brown eyes had turned crimson.

Phoenix swung this time, play time was done and now they were fighting as if they were trying to kill one another. Step after step. Swing after swing. Every time Geralt’s sword hit hers sparks flew all around. And when he finally knocked her back some, he placed his hand over his own blade, using the Witcher sign, Igni, to ignite flames upon his sword as well.

‘Grrrrr!’ Phoenix growled.

‘Hmmm.’ Geralt hummed in anger.

They both ran towards one another, both of their hearts ramming in their chests. And when their swords finally made contact, they instantly shattered!

Now they were left with just destroyed swords.

Phoenix quickly tossed hers to the side, being that she was still in a heated mood, she leaped on top of him, tackling him right to the ground. ‘Ugh!’ Geralt grunted when he hit the ground, immediately dropping the broken sword.

She grabbed his wrists and pinned him there. ‘There! Was that enough for you?!’ Her chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch up with her breath.

Geralt looked up at her for a moment before quickly pulling his wrists downward so hard that she had to let go in order to keep her face from eating the snow. He then flipped them over and grabbed her wrists. ‘Ugh!’ She exclaimed as her head hit the ground. And since he was much stronger than she was, there was no way she could get out of this. Her legs were spread so he hovered between them comfortably. His breathe through his nose, ‘Do you surrender.’

Phoenix glared up at him, her bright crimson eyes returning to their beautiful hazel state. ‘Never.’

He looked down at her, their warm breaths hitting one another. They got lost in one another’s eyes. Staring past those windows and searching each other’s souls. Damn, this feeling. Phoenix hadn’t felt this— open and vulnerable in a long time. Geralt leaned in, his lips gently parted and ready for her warmth. But then—

Bang, bang, bang!

Geralt and Phoenix looked up at the windows to see Lambert, Coën, and a few others cheering him on!

Geralt rolled his eyes and quickly pulled himself up to his feet and held his hand out so he could help her up. ‘You did great,’ he said softly as she stood to her feet and dusted off her now destroyed blouse. ‘You must control your emotions in fighting though. When you don’t show emotion, you leave them clueless. You’d be unpredictable.’

‘Right.’ She smirked and took a deep breath, ‘We should get back inside. Your brothers have lost their minds.’ She giggled and started towards the doors first. ‘You are the formidable swordsman, Witcher. I give you that.’

‘Hmph.’ Geralt huffed with a smirk as they walked inside together.

‘Still sloppy though.’ Phoenix shrugged.

‘Sloppy is in my nature.’ He chuckled.

[beels-burger-babe]

Of Jealousy and Friendship - Pt. 1

Topic number 2 won in the vote to be written next! So without further-a-do, let’s get going!...This ended up being a two part thing. Oh Well. Here’s part one. - B GN! MC Summary: MC makes a lower demon friend who may secretly be hoping for something more than friendship. The Demon Bros are not about to let this happen. Part Two: Here, Epilogue: Here It all started in magical potions. When you first arrived, the course wasn’t so bad since you took it with Beelzebub. The two of you always partnered up; the hour would consist of you jokingly scolding Beel for trying to eat ingredients and making light hearted jokes with one another whenever the teacher turned their back.  But once the second semester started, Beel was moved out of the course as it had gotten too expensive to keep him in a class where most of the subject matter was edible.  Which left you alone and bored in the classroom as the teacher went on and on about Mandrake roots and what they can be used for. You let out a heavy sigh and plopped your forehead onto the desk.  A soft snort came from beside you. You glanced over to see a demon with his feet propped up on his desk staring right back at you out of the corner of his dark green eyes. He smiled at you with a tilt of his head.  “The lectures are a total snooze fest right? I joined this class cause I thought we’d be making potions and causing stuff to explode. Not sitting here twisting our thumbs all day.” 

You bit back a laugh as you worried glanced over at the professor, who was none-the-wiser to the little conversation the two of you were sharing. You looked back over to the demon. His dark skin caused those hauntingly green eyes of his pop out at all who met his gaze, with carefully trimmed and styled black curls sitting stylishly on the top of his head.  There was a playful and mischievous energy to him that reminded you of Belphie, Asmo and Mammon.  “Unfortunately suffering through this section of class is mandatory to be allowed to mess around with the fun stuff.”  The demon groaned and threw his head back. “Urgh, that’s so unfair. What’s the worst that can happen? The potion explodes and kills us? Newsflash teach, we’re already dead.”  You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out at that one.  “Well actually the worse that could happen, for you at least as I am a very mortal human, is that you’d suffer the consequences from one of the potions. Anything from shrinking to de-aging to charms, all kinds of things. I’ve seen the effects of a potion gone wrong a number of times during my time down here. Trust me; you don’t want to be on the receiving end.”  He looked over at you with an analytical eye as the corners of his lips tilted upwards. “So you’re the human that everyone’s talking about.” He trailed off, and glanced over at the teacher to make sure they weren’t looking before stretching out his hand towards you. “I’m Cane. You know despite being the talk of RAD, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone mention your name?”  You took his hand into your own and lightly shook it. “I’m MC.” 

Cane leaned back into his chair, “It’s a pleasure to finally put a name and face to that glowing reputation of yours, MC. I see your pretty good at this potions thing, and I hear that you’re a lot of fun. How about you meet me downtown for supper later and we can study and get to know each other a little better?”  Your initial instinct was to agree, but then you paused as you thought of the brothers. “I don’t know. I don’t think that Lucifer or the others would like it much if I went out on my own.”  The demon huffed and light heartedly rolled his eyes. “You won’t be alone, you’ll be with me. I may not be as powerful as them, but I’m still a pretty good fighter.” He teasingly placed a gentle punch onto your shoulder, “Besides, it’s not like they’re boss of you. Are you really going to let a bunch of snobby Lords keep you from making the best of your time in the Devildom?”  That last remark hit a nerve. If there was one thing that had spread quite quickly about you around RAD, it was that you were known for being a little reckless, prideful, and never being able to back down from a challenge, and boy did that statement have you itching to prove him wrong.  You smiled, a sharp dangerous smile, at Cane. “I’ll go. And we’re going to do so much more than just go to a lame restaurant and study. You want to have fun and take risks? We’ll have fun and take risks. Whatever you want to do...to a degree,” you added in quickly remembering that you were talking to a demon and if you didn’t implement any boundaries there was no telling what you’d get yourself into, “I’m in.”  Cane’s eyes sparkled as his smile widened. “Damn. I guess it’s true that you’re a bit of dare devil. Alright, you’re on. Meet me at Hell’s Kitchen a 4pm. We’ll study and hit the books as promised, but afterwards...Get ready for the night of your life.”  ***

The brothers were concerned. You had rushed into the House of Lamentation after school and sprinted to your room, changed out of your uniform and promptly shouted that you were “going out” before taking off before any of them could complain.  Mammon had tried to argue that someone should follow you, and while that wasn’t a terrible idea, Lucifer wanted to give you the question of the doubt. Worst case scenario, you come back home a little scratched up and learn your lesson about taking off into the dangers of the Devildom.  At least that’s what he had thought when you had initially left.  It was now bordering midnight, and you had yet to return home.  So yeah, the brothers were very concerned.  Mammon was pacing and ranting about how this all could’ve been avoided if they had only listened to him for once.  Leviathan was trying to distract himself with his game, but everyone could see the worried glances he kept throwing to the entrance and clock as the minutes ticked by.  Satan sat near where Mammon and would occasionally scold or correct him, and sometimes even throw in his own ideas on what could be done while he thumbed through a book on location spells.  Asmodeus was strangely quiet, sitting near the fire by himself with arms wrapped around his torso as he stared into the flames. He would occasionally move a hand to wipe at his face before it went right back to hugging himself.  Beelzebub had lost his appetite. He sat next to Belphie, taking comfort in his twin’s presence, while Belphegor pretended to be unbothered and asleep, even though his mind was racing with the many stupid situations you could’ve gotten yourself into.  And Lucifer...He just sat in a door near the entryway, his eyes fixed on the entrance as he silently waited.  Finally, just as the clock stroke midnight, they could hear your recognizable laugh from behind the door.  “Oh my god! That was incredible! I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in life!” Leviathan stiffened at the statement, his hands gripping tighter onto his game.  “What did I tell you? I promised you the night of your life, and I sure as Diavolo always make sure to deliver,” everyone froze at the sound of the teasing male voice. “Though I didn’t expect the Seven Lords’ precious human to be a complete bad ass. You were amazing out there.”  Leviathan mumbled something before getting up and leaving the room. Mammon growled lowly and looked at the others, “Anyone know who the hell that is?”  Asmo finally stood, wiping at his face as he did, and began to stride towards the door, “Why don’t we find out?”  Without waiting for a response, Asmodeus swung the door open and pulled on a bright smile as he reached out and wrapped an arm around you. “MC, darling, you didn’t tell me you were bringing over guests! Don’t tell me you’re trying to have fun without me?”  You blinked up at the Asmo before smiling softly at his tactics. “Oh, hey Asmo! I didn’t expect you to be up. Cane here was just dropping me off.”  The demon in question didn’t even so much as stiffen as Asmodeus’s dangerous stare shifted over to him. Instead Cane stood there, relaxed, with a shit-eating grin on his face. Asmodeus raised an eyebrow at him and allowed a bit of his demonic aura to exude around him. “Oh really? At this time of night? Makes a demon wonder what kind of mischief the two of you had gotten up to,” while maintaining eye contact with Cane, Asmo rested his chin against your shoulder. “You know dear, if you wanted “fun” that badly all you had to do was ask. I assure you I could’ve shown you a much better time.” He purred and softly kissed your shoulder.  You shivered, missing the way Asmo stiffened as he noticed something, and swatted at the Avatar of Lust as you moved away from him. “Down Asmo. It’s nothing like that. Cane’s in my magical potions class. We went out to study together and decided to hit a couple clubs while we were out. No biggy.”  “If it’s ‘no biggy’ then why were you out all night without giving us any kind of warning of where you were going or how long you’d be out?” Everyone whirled around as Lucifer stood in the doorway with a frown etched on his face and his arms crossed. He took a step closer to you before freezing mid-step, his nose twitching. His eyes flared red as they fell onto Cane. The lower demon tensed and curled his hands into fists, but seemed to be refusing to back down. Lucifer snarled, “What exactly was it that you said the two of you were up to tonight?”  You frowned and stepped between Lucifer and your new friend. “Hey! Stop it! He didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re implying. And I wasn’t aware that I needed permission for every single thing that I do!” You snapped poking his chest as you moved into his space. “So excuse me for wanting to go out and enjoy myself for once!”  Whatever fear Cane had been showing, quickly slipped away at seeing you stand your ground against the mighty first born. “Yeah. What they said.”  Lucifer growled and caught your hand into his own, pulling you close and leaning in, “You’d be wise to remember that you are in the Devildom and surrounded by beings that have no where near as good intentions as you’d assume. Being so reckless and naïve down here could get you killed again, I thought you had learned that.” His tone was cold and unapologetic as he practically spat the words in your face.  You glared at Lucifer as you yanked your hand out of his grasp. There was so many things you wanted to say to him, but none of them would be right to say in front of an audience. You huffed and turned to face Cane. “I am so sorry about those two. Thanks again for tonight and bringing me home. I’ll see you tomorrow in class, okay?”  Cane gave you a side smile as he scratched the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. I had a great time hanging out with you. Hopefully we can do again...under better circumstances. Goodnight MC.” He took a step towards you and pulled you into a hug.  You smiled, wondering how Lucifer and Asmo could be stirring up such a fuss about a guy who had been nothing but kind to you, and gently hugged him back.  What you couldn’t see, was Cane making direct eye contact with the two other demons, as one of his wrists gently brushed up and down you back and he very lightly nuzzled, so lightly that you could just barely feel it, his face against your neck.  “Hey, what’s takin’ everyone so- WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?!” Mammon stormed forward and yanked you out of the demon’s embrace, already changing into his demon form. “Who the hell do you think you are scenting our human, huh?!” He lifted Cane off the ground by the collar of his shirt, causing the lower demon growl as he scratched at Mammon’s hands.  You yanked on Mammon’s jacket and arms and tried to get him to back off. “Woah! Mammon, relax! It was just a hug!”  “No it wasn’t,” Satan grumbled as he and the rest of the brothers (excluding Leviathan who was now sulking in his room) stood in the door way. “The fact that you don’t know that makes this even worst. But this isn’t a conversation we should be having out here.” Beel stared down at the demon with a fierce glare. “You should leave while you’re still able. And if you know what’s best for you, you’ll stay away from MC.”  “Wha- Beel! Cut that out!”  Cane took a step backwards, fear beginning to spill into his expression as he finally realizes just how out-powered and out-numbered he is. Still, he was stubborn pain in the ass; it was part of the reason he had been so drawn to you in the first place as he related to your reckless habits. He held Beelzebub’s glare and returned it with one of his own. “I think that MC can choose for themself who they do and do not hang out with, thanks. They already said they wanted to see me tomorrow so they will. We’re friends after all. And classmates,” his grin sharpened as he continued. “I do have to thank you, Lord Beelzebub, for that opening in magical potions by the way. Never would’ve got in if you hadn’t been kicked out.”  Before he could say anymore, he was met with a punch in the face. Belphegore lazily shook out his hand and his looked at Cane with an unbothered expression. “I believe we told you to leave. Now get. The. Fuck. Out.”  Cane scoffed and turned to you once more. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Dare Devil.”  You would’ve snorted at the nickname, but you were to distracted from the brother’s behavior. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow. Get home safe, Cane.” With another nod, the demon left; leaving you alone with six of the seven brothers bubbling with jealousy, anger, and concern.

[1tad0ri]

OKAY hey girl lemme j say how invested in this blog i am going to be . okay . so uh yuuji being the horny shit he is and texting you late at night to come to his room n you barely get through the door b4 he’s grabbing at you n telling you how much he missed your body n how he was *thinking* of you before n j URGH lemme get dat pls 🤲🤲

warning: body worship, eating out

itadori yuuji x fem!reader

AHDHSJJS FIRST OF ALL THANK YOUUU that’s so sweet!!! <3 second of all, girl i gotchu

“for fuck’s sake.” the shuffle of your sneakers along the corridor was almost too loud in the otherwise quiet space, phone screen lit up and reflecting back at you as you scrolled through the text messages that had gotten you into this situation in the first place.

one peaceful night was what you wanted. one goddamn full night’s rest. oh... but it was so hard to ignore him, no matter what time he texted you.

the amount of times you wanted to pretend to be asleep was outshone by the fact that you always wanted to talk to yuuji. eccentric and playful, he hit all the points on your ‘boyfriend checklist.’

arriving in front of his door, you sighed, clicking your phone screen off and stuffing the device into your back pocket—you hoped that he hadn’t asked you to come over to play uno at 2 a.m. again. the “can you please come over?” text had been fairly ominous, but truthfully you wouldn’t mind just cuddling up to him and falling asleep if he wanted.

you twisted the doorknob—he always left his room unlocked like a dummy (a cute dummy) and by this point you knew to spare yourself the knocking, knowing a reply of “it’s open!” would just reach you from inside.

the door creaked open under a single push and you stepped inside the familiar room, the movement already rehearsed in your mind during the walk from your dorm over to his.

“yuuji, what do you-”

heavy lips against the corner of your mouth interrupted you when someone pulled you into their chest—they’d missed your own lips in their haste but your mouth fell open in shock all the same, you squeaking as you stumbled into their arms, trying to find something to grab ahold of. your hands found warm shoulders to dig into as your regained your balance and you barely registered the click of the door shut behind you.

steady now, you untangled yourself from the person, pulling back to find yuuji staring back at you—of course it was him, this was his room after all.

he was already diving back into your lips before you could speak, and you know what? you let him. his mouth was hot when it pressed to yours and when his hand on your back pushed your waist closer to him and you felt the nudge of something hard against your leg, you decided he could do whatever he wanted to you at that point.

your arms travelled up from his shoulders to loop around his neck properly and he held you against him, so sweet and boyish when his tongue hungrily nudged between your lips, asking for entrance.

yuuji tilted his head back from yours enough to speak once he’d had his fill of shoving his tongue down your throat, hands wandering down to rub at you through your shorts. “do you know how long i’ve been thinking about this?” his voice was husky, eyes glazed over—he was lost to his desires already.

his fingers cupped your mound, shoving the pads of them against your cunt through the fabric, making you whine. “fuck, you’re so perfect.” a quick kiss to your lips. “always so much better than what i imagine.” another kiss, but this time, when he tried to pull away, you tugged him back.

you ground down on his fingers, nipping at his lips, legs shaking. “yuuji, h-harder.” he did as he was told, pressing along your underside blindly until he found your clit, knowing it was the right spot when you let out a surprised, “oh—”

then his hands were back on your sides (despite how much he loved the feeling of you melting against his chest from barely anything at all, the heat radiating from your pussy evident even without him directly touching it) and when he whispered, “jump,” into your ear, you did as you were told, his arms catching you easily and hoisting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your cores together. once again, you were thanking the universe for blessing you with such a strong boyfriend.

yuuji was pushing his face into your neck, breathing you in, babbling, tasting the skin—everything. “i’ve missed you. missed you so, so much.” his lips tickled, leaving behind a trail of fire and goosebumps in their wake, and you were holding onto him for dear life—it was as though sometimes he didn’t realize what he did to you (actually, you were sure that was the case now that you thought about it). he was always so needy, just a few hours apart seeming to drive him wild. it was flattering and you also maybe found it a little more hot than you probably should.

“couldn’t cum without you. mmm... needed your pretty pussy.” fuck. he just kept talking and talking, and the thought of him laying on his bed, frustrated, cock gripped in his palm as he fantasized about you only a few doors down was filling your mind, your wild imagination going straight to the building heat in your body.

from this angle, your head was just a little above his and you pushed lightly on the back of his neck to bury his face further into you, breath hitching when he bit at your collarbone. “don’t worry, i’m here now, baby. you can do whatever you want,” you cooed, finding it hard to keep your voice steady.

his movements paused for a moment, only his warm breath continuing to fan against you, and then he looked up, eyes wide. “really?”

leaning down to peck his nose, you swallowed thickly at the look in his eyes, nodding. “really.”

your head spun when he immediately turned on his heels away from the door and instead walked further into the room, dropping you onto the bed not far away. you bounced when you landed on the soft surface and tried to sit up, but yuuji was already crawling between your legs, hands planted on the covers as he leaned up to kiss you, gently pushing you to lay down. you allowed yourself to fall completely back, heart beating as you stared at the ceiling. yeah, you had ended up on his bed like you thought you were going to but... it seemed like your plans of cuddling had gone completely out the window.

a tug at your shorts had you glancing downwards, seeing that he had wasted no time settling in front of you, nipping at your thighs and tugging at your bottoms. yuuji met your burning gaze when he felt it on him, his lips attached to your upper thigh—it was a pretty sight, the blooming reds resulting from none other than your own handiwork on his mouth. his eyes were wide and lustful—cute yet making your stomach do flips as only he could.

“let me taste you, please.” hoarse voice begging, he was already running a finger close to your still-covered crotch, blinking up at you and waiting for permission. he was desperate, eyes flicking down momentarily to work your shorts down just over your hip bones as he placed a lopsided kiss to your clit through them. his eyes were back on yours. “can i? you want to cum on my tongue, don’t you? you’re going to let me tongue fuck you, yeah?”

fuck, fuck, fuck. “oh my god,” you whispered, taking in his wide blown pupils. you frantically nodded at his words, if only to shut him up before you came from that.

yuuji grinned and you were absolutely done with him because it was the same cheesy smile he always gave you and, quite frankly, it wasn’t fair if he was doing it while slick dripped out of you and onto his fingers holding your underwear to the side. you wanted to hate him for driving you wild by just being him, but it turns out you were incapable of that as well.

he buried his face in your clothed cunt, pressing light kisses to it and murmuring praise about how you were so perfect, fingers working to blindly pull your bottoms down. you helped him by shimming out of them and kicking them off to the side (shoes tumbling off when you pressed them off at the heel—you’d also pulled your phone out of your pocket and chucked it somewhere further up the bed for safe keeping in a single moment of clarity), spreading your legs for him to lean down between again, knees bent and feet planted firmly on the bed.

he took a moment to admire your pussy, the dripping lips fully on display before him, and for once he was quiet, nearly drooling.

“yuu-”

his tongue was on the folds and licking a stripe up, your thighs closing in to squeeze his head closer in surprise and you pulling on his hair, your grip so strong you were almost afraid of some of the strands coming loose (or you would be if you could think straight that is).

his hands locked around your thighs and he slid you closer to him, licking and sucking as though he were starved. you yelped and clung to the bed sheets as he dragged you closer, completely caught off guard by everything and legs burning as they bounced from the onslaught at your core. “yuuji-”

“such a good girl, opening yourself up to me.” he kissed your clit, lips so soft, and humming praise. “love it when you spread open for me. fuck, love it so much, always thinking about it.”

when yuuji’s tongue poked at your heat and then wiggled its way past the entrance, slipping in with little resistance from your wet hole, curses and whines fell from your lips. he worked the muscle in and out of you, curling it perfectly against your walls to hit the weak spots inside of you before he removed it to speak again, caught up in his own thoughts, saying anything that came to mind. his lack of filter had you pressing your fingers into the back of his head with a death grip, mind reeling.

“you’re perfect, so perfect. i love this pretty pussy.” yuuji flattened his tongue against your slit, words vibrating into you. “gonna make you cum from just my tongue. going to make this pretty pussy cum from just my tongue.” and that he did. if there was anything yuuji was, it was someone who could deliver on his promises. “it’s what my pretty baby deserves.”

you don’t know how long it took him, whether it be a few short minutes or long hours that had flashed by (you had your bet on the former considering you were already ready to cum for him as soon as he’d set to work kissing and grinding against you as soon as you’d walked in the door, although you truthfully wouldn’t be surprised at either option), but yuuji hadn’t let up once on you until you were coming undone all over his tongue, too fucked out of your mind to try to last any longer. his tongue just kept going, sliding along your folds to take up everything, relishing the taste of your jucies.

your legs were jumping at the feeling, chest heaving, and you tugged at his hair to pull him up—it was so good, yet almost too much—

when he finally emerged, lower half of his face covered in slick, he was on you again, pinning you to the mattress and kissing you—he’d quickly swiped the back of his hand across his face so it wasn’t too wet, but you could still taste yourself on his tongue, mumbling around him at the taste.

“yuuji—”

even though he had finally left your cunt alone, you still felt overwhelmed as his hands drew shapes over your skin, tracing up your sides and running over your curves. “perfect—fuck—you’re so perfect. your body is perfect, perfect, perfect. want you so baddd.”

you whimpered into his mouth, unable to reply in any other way. yuuji was nuzzling his face against yours, lips landing everywhere and no where at once. “you tasted so good,” he practically moaned at the memory. he licked his lips to taste you all over again and you could feel the wetness against the side of your mouth when he did so, your faces pressed so close together you could feel every little pull of his facial muscles.

“yuuji— ugh, fuck.” you shoved your hand in front of his mouth to stop him for a moment, his latest kiss landing on your palm and still somehow making you shiver.

his eyes were wide as he blinked down at you, hands stilled on your stomach. “babe?” his voice was muffled around your hand. “did i... did i do something wrong?”

“wha- yuuji, what? baby, no, of course not.” he let you pull him to rest on your chest and you stroked his hair soothingly as he tried to peer up at you, straining his neck. “you did so well. made me cum so well.” you kissed his forehead and he squeezed one eye closed when you did so, melting at the feeling. “i just think it’s time to help you out a little, hm?”

you cut off the protest he was surely about to make about how getting you off was enough for him when your leg purposefully brushed against the front of him, his dick solid on you even under the layers. he groaned and buried his face further into your chest. the opening and closing of his lips in silent pants rubbed on your breasts still hidden under your t-shirt—you didn’t even think he was aware of it, but you sure were—and he nodded meekly in reply when you mumbled out a quiet, “okay, baby?” into his hair.

[kittyymew]

Overstimulation- Part 1

Part 1/4

Link to- Part 2. Part 3.

********

"What! Come on! You HAVE to tell us!" Sasha squeals as she, Hanje, Mikasa, and Historia scoot closer, leaning on the table to hear you speak.

"Come on don't be shy! Help a single girl out!" Sasha presses for more information.

"I-..." you say, barely being able to form any words fiddling with an apple in my hand.

"Leave her alone. She's probably too shy" Hanje interjects placing a hand on Sasha's shoulder.

"But- she just has to say a number!" Sasha protests.

You look over at Mikasa and Historia in hopes that they'd help you out here.

Mikasa slams her fist on the table. "Fine, I'll go first. Seven times." Mikasa says, trying her best to maintain her usual composure.

All of you look over at her, your mouths gaping open.

"S- seven?" Sasha says chuckling.

"Yes," Mikasa replies as she picks up her cup and sips on it.

"So... Eren made you.... orgasm seven times in a row?" Sasha continues. That girl never knows when to keep her mouth shut.

Sasha receives a smack on her arm from Hanje. "That's what seven implies here!" Hanje says clearing her throat.

"Jealous?" Mikasa smirks at Sasha, knowing damn well what her answer would be.

"Your turn Y/N. You've been awfully quiet here" Mikasa continues.

I look up at her in a panic, trying to think of an excuse to get out of the situation.

"You're not getting out without telling us," Mikasa says.

That damn girl.

"Come on! We're not asking you to spill the details about what happens between you and Levi... unless you're up for it." Sasha adds.

I groan rubbing my eyes with my palms before mumbling, "Two".

I look up to see everyone just staring at me. Hanje is the first to speak up, "I- You're kidding right?" she says followed by a dry chuckle from Sasha. All I can do is shake my head.

"You're telling me THE Levi Ackerman has not made you orgasm more than two times?" Sasha says, still confused and shocked. "I thought your number would be higher than mine" Mikasa adds shrugging.

"Well, I mean, they're new at this moment so it's only fair to think that it's slow..." Historia says trying to make it less awkward. I just shrug and take a bite out of my apple. "We're a new thing too," Mikasa says.

"Okay stop! I am not complaining tho. It took a while for Levi to come around and I'm fine with the fact that Levi has made me orgasm just twice up until now. But-..."

Before I could continue, someone clears their throat behind us. I freeze in my seat and judging by everyone's faces, I know who it is. Everyone's expressions change quickly to a smile, acting as if we weren't just discussing our sex lives out in the open like this. I turn around smiling. "Hello," I say looking up at him.

"How long have you been there?" I ask nervously as he walks into the room and helping himself to a cup of tea. "Mmm not long enough," he says as he walks back towards our table and standing right behind me.

"Hope you ladies are having fun..." he says taking a sip. Everyone just nods in response. All of us were like kids who were caught stealing candies. I gulp and nod, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

"Well, if you don't mind, Y/N find me when you're done... talking..." Levi says and before I could even react, he was gone.

Everyone breathes in a sigh of relief as soon as Levi is out of sight. "Do you think he heard us talking about it?" Historia asks. "I don't think so. I hope not" Hanje replies.

"He definitely heard us talk," I say looking over at Hanje. I sigh and finish eating my apple in silence as everyone else continues to talk and the conversation shifts to the next scouting mission.

After about 30 minutes, all of us decide to go back to our room. I walk towards Levi's room, raking my brain with all sorts of justifications I could come up with IF he heard us talk. Levi's doesn't quite like sharing our personal details with anyone. He doesn't like the idea of others thinking he has normal feelings like everyone else. It took a while for him to be comfortable around me before we decided to take it further.

Lost in my thoughts, I don't even realise when I reached his room. I reach up to knock on the door and before my fist could even touch the wood, the door swings open.

*smut starts now*

"Oh, hey you wanted to see me?" I say, fiddling with my fingers trying to calm my nerves.

"Yes, brat. Come in" Levi says in a scary, yet sexy cold tone. It's the first time he's ever called me a brat. Does that mean he heard us?

Levi moves his body just enough for me to walk through the door. As soon as I am in, Levi slams the door shut, stepping closer to me. "JUST twice huh brat?" He says as he grabs my wrists bringing them behind my back and holding them there.

"Wha- No wait you're misunderstanding!!" I go in a slight panic mode. "I didn't mean it in that sense!" You continue your rambling.

"Shh brat. By the time I am done with you, you would've forgotten how to fucking count" Levi whispers in my ear smacking my right butt cheek.

He reaches down and slowly inches up my shirt. He pauses looking up at me, "Can I?" he asks, his voice suddenly going soft, a total contrast to the prior statements. Urgh, always the gentleman. I nod in response and he pulls my shirt over my head. He sucks in a breath when he sees that I was not wearing a bra underneath.

"Fucking naughty," Levi states, turning me around and bringing my hands behind my back, and cuffing them.

"WH- Why are you cuffing me?!" You yelp, squirming tugging at your cuffed hands.

"I don't remember giving you permission to talk brat," Levi says, before smacking my other butt cheek, this time harder.

"S-sorry," I say whimpering.

"On the bed, face down ass up" Levi commands. I quickly walk over getting on the bed and getting into the position right at the centre of his bed. He walks over and gets on the bed beside me, leaning down near my face. "You know the safe word. Use it if you want me to stop anytime" He states and with that, he's out of sight.

I feel the bed shift as Levi gets up and walks to the other side of the room. There's a long silence and I couldn't control it anymore. "Levi?" I say lowly, barely above a whisper.

As soon as his name leaves my mouth, I feel a hard smack on my ass. "Patience. I was just retrieving some toys for our fun time" Levi says, I can almost see his stupid grin as he says that.

Levi reaches forward, pressing something to my lips. "Open" he commands. As soon as my mouth is open, he shoves something in my mouth, tying it behind my head. A fucking gag.

Levi swiftly moves away and lifts my skirt, exposing my (pantie-covered) butt. I hear a small chuckle leave his mouth and I squirm in embarrassment. "Don't worry pink always looks good on you" Levi says, his fingers coming up to rub my covered clit.

"Look at you, all wet already and I haven't even begun yet," Levi says, moving my panties to the side, rubbing his fingers over my pussy, spreading my wetness. I had never seen Levi be so commanding and scary hot when we'd have sex. This was so unexpected and honestly, hot.

Levi pulls his fingers away from my core and before I could make any sounds of protest, he yanks down my panties and my skirt in one single swift movement and he starts rubbing my clit again.

I buck my hips towards his fingers, wanting more. "Tch brat!" Levi says pulling his fingers away and smacking both my butt cheeks. I try my best to not let out any sort of sound.

Levi slowly teases my entrance with his finger before slowly pushing his index finger inside, pumping it slowly before adding another finger. He starts curling them, rubbing them right against my g-spot. I let out a moan, moving and grinding my hips on his fingers.

Levi leans down and teasingly kisses my clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking and licking my clit, as his two fingers keep moving at a fast pace, rubbing my g-spot perfectly. I moan against the gag, grinding your hips faster. Levi's other free hand comes up to grab your hips and squeezing them, to steady your movements. You feel your orgasm building up, your walls clenching around his fingers as his tongue and fingers continue to pleasure you.

Before you could comprehend, you let out a muffled moan, your back arching and your pussy clenching harder around Levi's long fingers as you cum.

Levi continues to finger you and suck on your clit as you ride out your high. He pulls away after a few moments and sits up flipping you on your back.

He looks down at you, his lips still a little wet. "Did you like it?" He asks as you try to control your breathing. You look up at him and nod.

"Well, that's just one of many to come," Levi says with a grin, your eyes widening as he pulls a blindfold around your eyes.

********

I AM SORRY IF I SWITCH BETWEEN 'I' AND 'YOU'!!! Sometimes my dumbass loses track lol

[osakaso5]

IDOLiSH7 6th Anniversary Special Story: Full of Heart...

Chapter 3: Eternal Memories

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Riku Nanase: Ah, I was planning to use this picture, too! Here, look.

Tenn Kujo: Good thing we set up this meeting, then.

Iori Izumi: It's all thanks to my guidance. The two of you should be grateful.

Tenn & Riku: Thank you.

Iori Izumi: Still, I can't believe you'd both choose the exact same photo, out of all the ones you have.

Iori Izumi: Was it just a coincidence? Or do you have some kind of twin superpowers?

Tenn Kujo: I wouldn't exactly call it a superpower, but we have always had a tendency to pick the same things.

Riku Nanase: Yeah! Like at a restaurant, we'd always order the same thing.

Iori Izumi: Perhaps it's not as unusual for you to have matching tastes and interests as I made it out to be, considering you were raised together.

Tenn & Riku: Right.

Iori Izumi: Which park is this? Do you remember where it is?

Tenn Kujo: Near our old house. We went there for a picnic, since Riku was feeling well that day.

Riku Nanase: We brought canteens and lunchboxes. It wasn't our first visit to that park, but eating lunch there made it feel like an adventure.

Tenn Kujo: You have a nice smile in this picture, Riku. Why don't you use this one? I can pick something else.

Riku Nanase: Are you sure? I think you look really cute here too, Tenn-nii. You've got this kind of composed look on your face.

Riku Nanase: I think your fans would be happy to see you like this.

Tenn Kujo: And your fans would like to see the way you look here, too. Hmm, this is a tough decision.

Tenn Kujo: Your thoughts, Iori Izumi?

Iori Izumi: You're asking me?

Tenn Kujo: I thought I'd leave this up to outside judgement.

Riku Nanase: Which one of us do you think should use this picture for the show?

Iori Izumi: ......... Nanase-san.

Riku Nanase: Oh! How come?

Iori Izumi: Because we might not have the time to reach out to Kujo-san a second time if you're the one who needs to reselect his picture.

Iori Izumi: I trust in his ability to choose an appropriate photo much more than I trust yours.

Tenn Kujo: Makes sense.

Riku Nanase: So it has nothing to do with the photo itself?

Iori Izumi: Although if you select something from the pictures we looked at last night, perhaps Kujo-san could also use this one.

Iori Izumi: Why not the one you showed me, where your face is covered in ketchup...

Riku Nanase: The one where I'm eating omurice?

Iori Izumi: Yes. You looked so innocent and cu... Ahem. I just thought it would make for a good conversation piece.

Riku Nanase: I guess I'll go with that one, then!

Tenn Kujo: What about your picture, Iori Izumi? Which one did you pick?

Iori Izumi: ........ Mine is... nothing unusual... Just a perfectly normal childhood picture...

Tenn Kujo: Based on your reluctance to go into any more detail, I highly doubt that.

Riku Nanase: We can show you! Apparently Mitsuki chose the picture, and Iori looks totally adorable in it!

Iori Izumi: ........ It... It really isn't anything worth showing to people...

Tenn Kujo: It's not worth showing to people, so you decided to display it on national television?

Riku Nanase: C'mon, Iori. Even Tenn-nii wants to see it!

Tenn Kujo: Pretty please.

Iori Izumi: Please stop it with the innocent act...

Iori Izumi: ...Fine. Here it is, since you insist...

Tenn Kujo: Wow, you look cute. A plushie in your arms, a happy little smile on your face...

Riku Nanase: Isn't it precious!?

Iori Izumi: That's enough. I don't need your flattery...

Riku Nanase: We're not just saying that, you know! I even wanted to pretend like I was the one that gave you that plushie.

Iori Izumi: I don't know why you feel this much of a need to usurp your twin.

Riku Nanase: I mean it! There's not a single person who wouldn't be happy if their present was received like how you received that plushie.

Riku Nanase: God, Santa Claus, whoever. I think it'd make just about anyone feel on top of the world.

Iori Izumi: You're the one who's always smiling like that, anyway.

Riku Nanase: Huh?

Iori Izumi: Nothing. I was just thinking out loud.

Iori Izumi: Still, not even I expected my younger self to smile so earnestly.

Tenn Kujo: What made you look so sour all the time?

Iori Izumi: I don't look like this all the time. Just very often, especially around your younger brother.

Tenn Kujo: I don't know. You seem to give me plenty of sour looks, too.

Iori Izumi: Only when the cameras are off and you're acting like your usual, standoffish self.

Tenn Kujo: I'm not standoffish. I just take things seriously.

Tenn Kujo: So, how old were you exactly? When you stopped sleeping with this cutesy teddy bear, I mean.

Iori Izumi: ...How do you know I used to sleep with it!? Did my brother tell you?

Tenn Kujo: Most little kids like to sleep with a stuffed toy or two. Especially one that looks this fluffy.

Iori Izumi: I did enjoy that, myself...

Tenn Kujo: Riku never could've done that, though. His selection of bedtime toys was limited, so he didn't have attacks at night.

Riku Nanase: True.

Iori Izumi: Ah... I see... And you even seem like you'd have enjoyed these kind of fluffy toys...

Riku Nanase: Are you sure you're not just talking about yourself..?

Tenn Kujo: Riku. Were you lonely without plushies to keep you company?

Riku Nanase: Of course not. I had you, Tenn-nii.

Riku Nanase: I never felt lonely, even though I never got to go to school, or pet any cats or dogs.

Riku Nanase: When you were around, I was always happy and having fun. And I'm really grateful for that.

Tenn Kujo: Riku...

Riku & Iori: Tenn-nii...

Tenn & Riku: ........!?

Riku Nanase: W-what was that!? Why did you call him Tenn-nii, too!?

Iori Izumi: Because I knew that's what you were going to say. What do you think of my ability to predict you?

Tenn Kujo: You can be very strange, for someone so smart.

Iori Izumi: I could say the same about you. Don't you think you're being unusually soft on Nanase-san today?

Tenn Kujo: I guess so... I guess nostalgia's gotten the best of me.

Tenn Kujo: That'll happen when you reminisce about your childhood.

Riku Nanase: Maybe... I should just stick one of our childhood pictures on my face all the time...

Iori Izumi: You're an idol, so please don't start trying to censor your own face.

Riku Nanase: But I want Tenn-nii to be nice to me!

Iori Izumi: Of course yo do... Ah, by the way. Are you sure that picture you showed me at the dorm wouldn't be the best pick for you?

Iori Izumi: You know, the one where you're holding a Rabitty-kun doll. I think it'd work nicely, especially from a sponsor standpoint.

Riku Nanase: Yeah, maybe!

Tenn Kujo: I'm glad Rabitty-kun made a comeback. Toi Toi Toi was on the verge of bankruptcy before then.

Riku Nanase: They were?

Tenn Kujo: Yep. They released some low quality Rabitty-kun products, and were dealing with tons of customer complaints.

Tenn Kujo: It was damaging enough to their reputation that they had to sell the main office building and the CEO's house.

Iori Izumi: I see... I think the Rabitty-kun we had might've been one of the defective ones.

Iori Izumi: It made strange noises sometimes...

Riku Nanase: Yeah, I can kind of see why people would complain about their children's toys making creepy noises. They probably made lots of kids cry.

Iori Izumi: Still, it's incredible that they were able to bounce back and resume sales six years ago.

Riku Nanase: Wow... That company's sure had some big ups and downs.

Riku Nanase: Kind of like us!

Iori Izumi: Right... I do hope we can help them have a good anniversary.

Tenn Kujo: Yeah.

Iori Izumi: What sort of games did you two play when you were little?

Tenn Kujo: We played normally enough. Drawing, card games, things like that.

Riku Nanase: I couldn't get out of bed or move around much, so Tenn-nii would sing and dance for me.

Riku Nanase: We came up with lots of games where I sat still, while he moved around.

Riku Nanase: Like the Tenn-nii Robot!

Iori Izumi: The "Tenn-nii Robot"?

Tenn Kujo: Ah, I remember that one.

Iori Izumi: What kind of game was it?

Riku Nanase: I used this controller we made out of milk cartons to order Tenn-nii around.

Riku Nanase: And he'd do as I told him to. It was a lot of fun!

Tenn Kujo: Sure was.

Riku Nanase: Tenn-nii Robot, fire missiles!

Tenn Kujo: Boom!

Riku Nanase: Tenn-nii Robot, fire your machine gun!

Tenn Kujo: Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat.

Riku Nanase: Tenn-nii Robot, equip your lazer sword!

Tenn Kujo: Kwishuuuu, clink!

Tenn & Riku: It was so much fun!

Iori Izumi: Kujo-san...

Tenn Kujo: What?

Iori Izumi: You taught an innocent young child the joys of having Tenn Kujo at his beck and call? That should be a criminal offense.

Tenn Kujo: What are you talking about..?

Iori Izumi: You're exactly the reason why Nanase-san grew up to be so inhumanly naive and spoiled.

Tenn Kujo: Are you spoiled, Riku?

Riku Nanase: No! Hey, Iori..! Since when am I spoiled!?

Iori Izumi: Do you really have to ask? Today, you slept in so late that I had to help you pack.

Riku Nanase: How is that spoiled!? I just asked you for help! And you agreed to help me with my clothes, too!

Iori Izumi: I was worried we'd be even more late if I let you try and fail to decide on what to wear. You have no right to complain here.

Riku Nanase: I guess not, but...

Tenn Kujo: So, Iori Izumi's your stylist for today.

Riku Nanase: Do I look good?

Tenn Kujo: Sure.

Riku Nanase: Ehehe! You hear that, Iori!?

Iori Izumi: Of course you look good, with a producer like me. You should have more self-confidence.

Tenn Kujo: You two sure are close.

Riku Nanase: Yeah, we are!

Iori Izumi: How, exactly?

Riku Nanase: There you go again. Tenn-nii Robot, attack Iori!

Tenn Kujo: Kwishuuuu, clink...  

Iori Izumi: Urgh..! ...Please, do NOT try to stab me!

Tenn Kujo: Beep beep beep. Mission complete.

Iori Izumi: You of all people should know better than to indulge him!

Riku Nanase: Ahahaha! 

To be continued...

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

You’re ready for girl’s night out but Bucky doesn’t approve of your dress. You pretend to change and put something over it and go party but he finds you wearing the same dress he didn’t want you to wear.

Pairings - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words - 1422

Warnings - spanking, bad language words

A/N - thanks to @syntheticavenger for the prompt and @buckyownsmylife for reading it to make sure it wasn’t rubbish. As usual this is for 18+ so if you’re a minor please shoo

You put the finishing touches to your makeup, swiping on your favourite lipstick before going to find your boyfriend. He was sitting playing Mario Kart with Sam when you wrapped your arms around him from behind. “How is Sam beating you on this? He’s the worst player,” you giggle before stealing the controller and playing for him, easily beating your best friend.

Bucky stands and leans over the sofa to kiss you but stops when he sees the dress you’re wearing. “Baby, c’mon! I hid that dress, it’s meant to just be for me.” You roll your eyes at him, secretly loving how protective he always got when you were having a night out with the girls.

“Buck, it’s my favourite dress, Nat will be ready any minute. I don’t have time to change,” you try and reason with him but he’s giving you the puppy dog eyes, you made him promise not to do that anymore because he knows you can’t resist it. “Urgh, fine. I’ll get changed.” You stomp off back to your room, faintly hearing Sam cracking his imaginary whip at you.

Flipping through your wardrobe, you spot your favourite summer dress, it falls around your knees, covers the girls and Bucky loved it. You are just about to switch when you suddenly get the bright idea to just keep your dress on and cover it with the sundress, Bucky will never find out and you don’t have to waste a perfectly good outfit.

Walking back into the room, you see Sam grabbing some beers and popcorn for the movie they were about to watch, confused when you don’t see your boyfriend you quickly feel him hug you from behind, kissing up the back of your neck and nibbling on your ear. “You’re looking amazing doll, thanks for changing. I don’t want anyone else to see what’s mine”.

You turn and look at him, kissing him softly so you don’t smudge your lipstick. “You’re so silly, have fun with Sam. Don’t kill each other, ok?”

Hopping into the back of the car with your friends, you tell Happy not to watch as you quickly take the dress off, pushing it under the seat. Nat smirks at you. “What will Bucky say? Won’t he get all moody and make everyone miserable with his moping around?”.

You grab the champagne she was holding for you, taking a long drink. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” You clink your glasses and ring Carol, letting her know you were on your way.

Sometime later, after a few cocktails, you’re in the middle of the dance floor laughing with the girls when you feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist picking you up and flinging you over his shoulder, people part quickly to let him through and you’d be more scared if you didn’t recognise his cute little butt in those jeans you bought him. Deciding the most logical thing to do in this situation is to start slapping his cheeks, you giggle hearing his growl. He sits you on the hood of the car glaring at Happy before running his fingers up and down the front of your dress. “Want to tell me what happened?”

You shake your head, pouting at his adorably grumpy face. “It’s such a cute outfit and I wanted to wear it.” He shakes his head before leaning in and kissing you, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss down the column of his throat. “You aren’t mad at me, are you baby?”. For a brief moment you think you’ve got away with it but he picks you up again throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to another car.

Sam sits in the driver's seat and apologises as soon as you get in. “I’m sorry, Carol sent me a photo of you all and he saw it.” You gently slap him across the back of the head before staring out the window watching your night out slip away from you.

Pulling into the compound, you get out before the car has even fully stopped, walking over to the elevator and pressing the button a few times hoping it’ll arrive before your boyfriend can catch up, you get in pressing the button to your floor and feeling relieved when the door starts to close, only to groan a moment later when his metal hand pushes them open. Hearing Sam say he’s going to take the stairs, you get crowded into the corner, caged in with an arm on either side of your body. “Now what are we going to do with you?” You look up at him smirking down at you, your heart already pumping fast with excitement which you know he can hear. He’s about to lean in when the door opens and he drags you to your room.

Pinning you against the inside of your door, he kisses you furiously, gripping at your ass and grinding himself against you, you whimper and moan into his mouth. He pulls back and looks down at you again. “What’s the matter? Are you all frustrated because of me?”. Trying to kiss him again, you run your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, knowing how needy it makes him but he grabs your wrists and stops you, walking away and sitting on the bed facing you.

Patting his thighs, you know what he wants but you’re too stubborn to give in straight away so you go to the bathroom first and remove all your jewellery hearing him from the other room. “You’re making this worse for yourself.” Clenching your thighs together, hoping to relieve some of the pressure, you take a deep breath and walk out of the room and over to him.

He smiles at you before quickly manhandling you over his lap, pushing your dress up and admiring the soft pink panties he slaps your cheek in warning, smirking at the wet patch that’s forming before his eyes. “How about 10? Count with me.” You nod quickly, gasping when he slaps the back of your thigh. “One”.

You squirm in his lap as he lands slap after slap on you, using his cool metal hand to ease the sting, he gets to nine and pauses, pushing his fingers down he chuckles. “Fuck doll, you’re absolutely dripping for me.” You whine and squirm as he draws soft light circles on your clit over the top of your panties, you try to push down and get more friction but he just pulls away from you, chuckling at your needy whine. “You’ve got one more, don’t think I forgot”. Pushing you back down he spreads your legs a little wider and manages to slap your pussy before you can stop him, you moan and grip his thighs at the feel of his cool hand soothing you.

Forcing you to stand, he widens his legs and pulls you closer. “Mmm... I think you enjoyed that a little too much.” Running his hands softly up and down your sides before slowly unzipping your dress. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he takes his time, he lightly scratches at the skin exposed as your dress falls to the floor along with your panties. “This dress is just for me,” punctuating each word with a kiss as he travels lower and lower, stopping before he gets to where you need him most.

He smirks at your needy whine before picking you up and laying you on the bed. “You going to be a good girl for me?” You nod desperately, silently begging him to give you what you wanted, trying to pull him closer with your feet as he straddles your lap. “I think I like you like this, all needy for me.” Biting your lip in frustration, you grab his hair and pull him down for a kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth and grabbing his ass with your other hand.

He pulls back and kisses your nose. “Get dressed.” You look up at him confused “I think I need to show the world that you belong to me.” Climbing off the bed and passing you the dress. “Come on, Sam has been desperate to get drunk with you and I want all the city to see how much you want me”. He winks at you before grabbing your shoes and bag. “I’ll wait at the car, don’t take too long and don’t even think about wearing those panties, those are mine now.”