#it’s been really long since I felt that way around people

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 [ 2 ]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Friends to Lovers. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky just not getting enough of you, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral [M&F], unprotected piv, creampie. Just PURE making love, no kinks. Summary: It's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him. A/N: 2 of 2. And I must say. . . JAYSUS. BON APETITIDDIES.

Part One

You were stiff. You were sore. Your arm was asleep. And you felt fucking fantastic.

Maybe in the movies people woke up entwined in each other's arms after a night of spirited lovemaking, but for you, reality was much more awkward. Your head had somehow become wedged behind Bucky’s shoulder, and both his legs were about to slide off the couch altogether. You untangled yourself as best you could, looking down at him as you moved his limbs out of the way.

Bucky was sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes lying flat against the skin beneath his eyes. They fluttered slightly as you pulled free of him, and he stirred.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, and turned over so he was facing the back of the couch, still caught in mid-slide towards the floor.

You tried not to laugh. God, he was adorable.

You sat up, arching your back to stretch out the sore muscles. Then your breath caught. What time was it? Holy hell, I’m going to be late.

You stood up quickly, and was seized by an ache between your legs so unfamiliar that you nearly sat back down again. Holy crap. It had been way too long. You almost felt like a virgin again. You rose again shakily, noticing that your whole groin felt sore, and so did your hips—probably from throwing your legs up around his waist. God, what a wanton hussy you were, you thought happily.

You went quietly towards the bathroom, checking the clock on the stove as you walked by. It was nearly eight-thirty. Crap. You were supposed to be at work by nine, or nine-thirty at the latest. you'd  have to make the shower a quick one.

You stood under the hot water, letting it pour over your sore muscles. You washed out your hair, lathered up your body and massaged your sore hips as random images from last night invaded your thoughts. Even now you weren't entirely convinced it hadn't all been a dream. Has it really happened? The soreness was real enough. And so were the images flashing through your mind.

Bucky’s body on yours, looming over you, holding your wrists, kissing you with abandon. Taking each breast in his mouth, teasing you with his fingers. Sliding into you, tilting your back and thrusting deeper, faster, harder.

Suddenly a blurry figure appeared on the other side of the glass door. The door slid open and he stood there, looking disheveled from sleep but adorably sexy. And naked, too.

"Hi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. His eyes traveled down your naked body, pausing at your breasts and then sliding down to the between your legs where rivulets of water coursed and ran together.

You flushed at the frank inspection but willed yourself not to try to hide from him. You shifted your weight, jutting your hip out provocatively and smiled.

His eyes returned to yours, desire glinting in them. "May I join you?"

You pushed the door back and invited him in. Bucky stepped in and crowded you, not unpleasantly, until your back was up against the tiles. He braced his hands on the wall behind you, and let the water flow over him as he leaned down and kissed you.

You opened to him and kissed him back, winding your hands around his waist and sliding them down his ass, squeezing appreciatively. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying your wandering hands, then pushed forward so your bodies were pressed together, the water slick and warm between you.

"So," he murmured in your ear, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the water. "So much for that idea."

"What idea was that?" you whispered back, kissing his ear.

"The idea that we could ever be just friends," he said, catching your jaw with his lips as you turned your head. He covered your neck with slow, lingering kisses, trailing his mouth down your and cupping your breast with his hand.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it's a great idea so far," you said coquettishly. "Besides," you joked. "I do this with all my male friends."

He mocked a scowl at you, and gave you  that smile that had always melted you. "Well, that's going to have to stop. You're mine now."

He kissed you slowly, his tongue tangling with yours as he teased and tasted, enjoying your mouth.

You kissed him back, licking and tasting and enjoying him until you felt rather than heard a hum of desire, of pure carnal lust, vibrating through him. He was growing hard against your belly, his cock pressing against you urgently.

He lowered his head further and took your  nipple into his mouth, licking the soft nub until it grew hard beneath his tongue. Pleasure shot through you, and he turned to lavish the same attention on your other breast. You writhed against the cold tiles at your back, arching into him and sinking your fingers into his hair to hold him to you. He smiled as you moaned with pleasure, and laughed softly when he took your nipple between his teeth and made you suck in a sharp breath.

His cock was as hard as it had been a few hours ago, and it surged in your hand as he took your breasts. You gathered some suds into your palm and grasped him again, feeling the iron-hardness of him beneath the silky skin. You began to stroke, gliding fast and smooth, and he groaned from the pleasure of it, collapsing against you and kissing you between his soft, low sounds of pleasure and need.

You kept stroking and teasing, gliding over him in a steady rhythm, and felt yourself growing warm and slick at how hard he was beneath your fingers. You loved that you were doing that to him, making him want you so much. He groaned, his breath jagged and shallow. He tried to kiss you through his mounting pleasure but he had to break off to breathe, to lose himself in the sensation.

"God, baby," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "So good."

You tried not to focus on him calling you baby, knowing it was only his arousal talking. You focused instead on the intense pleasure that was making him say it. You continued stroking him, changing your hand position so that you pulled up with each stroke, teasingly pulling his skin up over the head each time and sinking down to the base, pleasuring every inch of him. Your other hand cupped his balls and caressed him, gently rolling him around in your fingers as he tensed and surged and seemed to fight against you, against the unbearable pleasure you were causing him.

After a few torturous moments he stopped your hand, his breathing so fast and ragged that he could hardly speak. 

“You—don't want—this to end too soon, do you?” he warned, kissing you in between breaths. “Because, my God, you could make me come in seconds if you wanted to.”

“That might be fun,” you said, kissing the edges of his mouth, licking at his lips and his tongue when he opened his mouth to you again.

“For me, yes,” he breathed, breaking away from you. “But I'm not nearly finished with you yet.”

He slipped his hand into your hair and held your head, kissing you with such raw passion, such naked need that you felt a surge of warmth flood between your legs in spite of the cooling effects of the water. He had wrung a soul-shattering orgasm out of you just a few hours ago and yet here you were again, eager for him again. Wanton hussy indeed.

"Do you remember that night, two years ago?" he asked, his voice low and deep. "At the party, when I played that song on the guitar for you, and you asked whether it hurt my fingers to play the steel strings?"

He was watching his own fingers trail over your breasts, over your tightened nipple, down past your navel, as the water trickled over you both.

"Mmm hmmm," you murmured, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water coursing down your body and his hand moving over you.

“And you touched my fingertips…”

Of course you remembered; you'd run your  fingers over the roughened pads of his fingertips, and had watched in delight as he'd twitched a little, and then trembled, just a little, at your touch. You'd kept your touch feather-light and soft, drifting over his fingertips and down his fingers a little, feeling the shiver of heightened awareness in your  own hands.

Maybe you'd been a little too suggestive, a little too lingering, whispering-touching those parts of him that were supposedly hardened against such sensations—but you'd been unable to stop yourself. His hands had been warm and strong and eminently male, and when he'd stiffened and held his breath, as if willing himself not to react to your seductive touch, you'd felt that shiver of awareness deepen into an intense desire.

Such a seemingly innocent touch, just a friend examining the time-worn calluses of a guitar player's fingertips. . .and yet in that moment, even amongst their friends, even with the music playing loud and the laughter soaring above it, you'd felt like it had been just the two of you in that room, touching each other intentionally for the very first time, your hand tentatively reaching out for his, and his reaching to meet your half way.

“You drove me wild.” he said, leaning to kiss your neck. “I got so hard, I was afraid to move. And after that, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you with these fingers.” He slipped his hand between your  legs and caressed your folds, parting them gently and sliding inside you. “Like this, for instance.”

You moaned and leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him touch you wherever he wanted. His fingers explored you, caressed you, possessed you, expertly as though they, too, knew you were his.

“I just had to touch you,” you breathed against him. “And believe me, this is what I was thinking about too.”

“You stopped me last night,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck. “I wanted to feel you come for me. To finish what you started that night.”

You groaned at the sound of his voice, so low and sexual, so heated with his own desire.

“Let me feel you come for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, licking your  earlobe. “Please.”

He gripped your hip and lifted you up against the wall slightly, positioning you so he could slide his fingers deep inside you. He held you firmly around the waist, bracing you against the wall, and thrust into you gently, with first one finger, then two, sliding deeper and deeper each time, stretching you, mimicking the size and power of his cock. His thumb played over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you as he pressed his forehead to yours and gazed down into your  eyes. You gasped and cried out from the overwhelming pleasure of it even as you squirmed beneath his fingers and ached for more.

He braced you against his thigh and pressed against you while his arm steadied you from behind, holding you completely in his grasp. Bucky had such a way of holding you, letting you know that you were going nowhere, making sure you had no desire to be anywhere but in his arms. You felt safe, and secure, and above all, worshiped.

Bucky bent down and kissed you, sliding his fingers into your with a wild, sensuous rhythm that matched the increasing speed of his thumb as it stroked and rubbed and swirled around your aching clit. His hand was so strong, his fingers curving inside you to caress you, to find that super-sensitive inner spot even as he plunged and drove and took. With his thumb circling your clit in a relentless rhythm and his fingers deep inside you, stretching you, claiming you, you felt completely owned by him, by the hand that possessed every inch of you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers, swirling, tasting, mutely revealing that he had had another  fantasy, too. The thought of his mouth on you, his tongue tasting you, torturing you, swirling over your clit as you writhed beneath it made you go weak in the knees.

Bucky broke away from the kiss and began trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, lowering himself to his knees in front of you  while bracing your hips against the tiles with his strong hands.

"Did I mention what it did to me the first time your tongue touched mine?" he whispered devilishly.

He looked up at you so intently, his beautiful blue eyes blazing as the water streamed over his shoulder and down the contours of his chest. You gazed down at him, and for the second time this morning questioned whether  all this could actually be happening. This gorgeous, virile man gripping you, kneeling before you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It couldn't be real, could it?

Then he lowered his lips to your and you knew it was.

Sensation tore through your touch, so delicately gentle at first, and you arched against the wall with a startled cry. You reached down and gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself on one foot as he brought you to your leg up slowly, gently and eased it over his shoulder. The sight of it alone nearly made you come. He moved so languidly, so sensuously, positioning you better so he could enjoy your all the more.

He closed his mouth over your clit and kissed it luxuriously, his lips moving as though he were kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled over you in large, sensuous circles and he groaned against you, tightening his grip on your hip as you moaned against the sudden overwhelming pleasure of it. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick against your  rapidly as he looked up at you again, watching your pleasure, his eyes smiling at you as if he knew precisely how good he was making you feel. Then he fell on you again, his tongue roaming over you, tasting you, luxuriating in your folds and dipping to lap at your entrance.

“Oh my, g-god. Bucky—”

You bucked against him and cried out as his tongue slipped into your and pulsed there, gently, savouring you. Your hand sank into his wet hair and as you gripped his head, you were rewarded with a muted chuckle and a more intense forward surge of his tongue inside you. He liked the moans he wrought from you. He liked being able to make your  cry out and seize him, your head thrown back in agonizing pleasure.

And fuck did you like it, too.

"Oh God," you breathed, your heart thundering in your chest. "My God, that feels so good..."

He withdrew from your and slid his tongue up to torture your aching clit, and just when you began to miss the feel of him inside your he gently pushed his fingers into your again and began to thrust.

Pleasure soared through you and you cried out even louder, and the leg draped over his shoulder began to tremble. His tongue circled your clit again, deliciously slowly, as his fingers slid into you over and over again, a sensual, primitive rhythm that made you  want to grind your hips against the pleasure.

“I'm coming,” you whispered urgently. “You're going to make me come…”

His fingers thrust deeper and faster and he began to lick you so quickly, with such a throaty groan of pleasure that you felt your  orgasm rise, terrifyingly fast and sharp, making you cry out in increasing, panting breaths until you shattered, coming violently around his fingers and that sensuous, irresistible tongue. You shuddered with an aching cry and trembled from the spasms he sent rippling through you. Your body curled forward as you gripped him tighter, your  fingers pulling on his hair from the pressure.

He removed your leg from his shoulder gently as you continued to shudder, feeling aftershocks of pleasure shiver through you. He got to his feet and helped you stand, pressing himself against your  and nuzzling your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice shaking. your  whole body shaking. “That was incredible.”

“That...was just the prelude,” he whispered, kissing you. “I haven't even started pleasuring you yet.”

God, he was going to kill you. Death by orgasm, you thought happily. What a way to go.

He leaned to turn off the water, but he stilled his hand. He looked back at you with a questioning expression, and then understood. You pulled him back towards yourself and he went willingly, stepping back under the stream of water, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming greedily over your  body.

You weren't done with him. He had made you feel like a goddess, worshiped, cherished, adored.

You broke off the kiss and began trailing your  lips down his neck, his collarbone and chest, enjoying the warmth of the water trickling past your mouth. His chest muscles tensed as you kissed them, and as you moved your  lips slowly down his abdomen you felt his whole body go rigid with anticipation. You sank to your knees in the tub and brushed kisses along his navel, his hip bones, and he put his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. Water coursed over both of you, and you delighted in it, closing your eyes against the spray.

“Baby,” Bucky said softly, barely audible above the water.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was about to say something but you smiled and glanced away, focusing instead on the head of his cock, hard and urgent in front of you. He was thick and beautiful, and still as hard, maybe even harder, than he had been when you'd teased him with your  hands.

“I want to taste you,” you said playfully. “All of you.”

You leaned forward and gently licked the swollen tip of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing, and you smiled up at him, letting him know this was for your  pleasure as much as for his. You swirl your  tongue around the head, taking it into your  mouth and suckling gently, teasing it. The skin was soft and smooth, stretched deliciously tight from the hardness of his erection.

You let your tongue play over it, dipping into the opening, making him moan. You drifted your tongue along the ridge, and down to the sensitive skin just beneath the head, licking and tasting, nipping and kissing.

You looked up at him, and his dark eyes were wild with desire. You smiled, and ran your  tongue up and down the length of him, ending at the head and flicking at it delicately, teasingly. He moaned softly, his breathing starting to grow rapid. You rose up slightly to take the whole length of him into your mouth and sucked him, long and hard.

He let out a gasp and braced himself against the wall with one hand, his other  hand gripping your  shoulder.

“Oh fuck—Baby...”

You slid your mouth over his shaft, deeper, deeper, and slid back up the length of him. Your hands came around and gripped his ass, pulling him towards you. He staggered forward slightly as you took him into your  mouth again, luxuriously taking in his entire length, sucking, licking, tasting as you went. The sensation of him in your mouth was almost as overwhelming as his first entrance into your body had been, so unfamiliar but so right at the same time.

You caressed his balls with one hand as you played your tongue over his cock. He groaned, his breathing jagged now, his cock harder than ever. His hand moved from your  shoulder to sink into your wet hair, and he gripped your head with barely restrained urgency. Gently he guided your head closer to him as you sucked. You lowered yourself onto him and slowly sucked your way back up, your mouth gripping him, your cheeks hollowing, as your tongue slid over him with each pass.

His hips began to move as he started to match your rhythm, thrusting into you, meeting your mouth. Bucky gripped your head more firmly and held your head still, driving into you gently.

You let your hand fall and you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the feeling of him sliding in and out of your mouth, controlling his own pleasure, taking what he wanted, and what you were so willing to give. Yet you could tell he was holding back, wanting to thrust harder and faster but restraining himself and settling for a smoother, slower pace.

For you. Bucky was holding back for your sake. This passionate, soulful, virile man was holding back his own pleasure because he wanted to be gentle with you.

The very thought of it excited you, and you increased your own rhythm, encouraging him, moaning with pleasure as he drove into you. You sucked harder, faster, turning your  gaze up to him with an urgent plea in your  eyes. Faster. Deeper. Now, my love.

And he understood.

Bucky groaned, and stepped forward. His hand clenched in your hair and he began to move, faster and harder, plunging deeper, holding your head as he thrust into your  mouth with urgent, rhythmic strokes. He slid in and out of your mouth as if through warm honey, and you felt and heard his pleasure mounting with every ratcheted breath and every desperate moan that escaped his lips.

His eyes watched your with rapt adoration and abject lust, and you could tell that the sight of your taking him fully into your mouth, of your sucking him with pure, greedy abandon and complete acceptance, was pushing him closer to the edge as much as the intense pleasure of your tongue on his cock was. Or more.

He tensed as his rhythm grew faster, his breathing harder, until you felt him tighten and strain so much that you felt certain he was going to spill himself into your mouth. But at the last moment he cried out and pulled back, his cock slipping out of your  mouth quickly. He stood still, breathless, his eyes closed as if willing his orgasm to retreat. Water sliced down his neck and chest, and finally he let out a slow, jagged moan of a breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at you wildly, and reached for you,helping you to your feet.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly, staring at you as he tried to catch his breath. “I can't...I can't believe how goddamn good that felt. You brought me so close, so fast, I almost couldn't stop it.”

“Why did you?” you asked, running your  finger along his jaw. “I wanted to feel you come for me.”

He groaned against you, his hands roaming over your  body. “I told you, I'm not nearly done with you yet.”

He kissed you hungrily, his cock surging against your violently as your bodies met. you could feel him moving against you, his cock rubbing against you,and you knew how badly he wanted to be inside you again.

As badly as you wanted him inside you again.

He stepped back, his breath still ragged, and pressed his forehead to yours as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“You're not done yet, huh?” you teased gently, letting your fingers sink into his wet hair as you kissed his neck.

“Not nearly.”

“But I have to go to work. Maybe if I'm lucky you'll be here when I get home?”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

He reached to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower, turning to help your step over the wall of the tub. You threw your robe on and cinched the belt as he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. You caught him grinning at you, and it was so clear what he was thinking that it made your  laugh.

“What?” you demanded, squeezing the excess water out of your hair with a hand towel. “What are you smiling at?”

Bucky wetted his lips with his tongue, “Fuck it. You're just going to have to be late for work. Come here…”

“Hey!” your eyes widened playfully, jumping away from him. “Are you trying to kill me? Stop!”

Bucky untied your robe and you yelped, trying to slap his hands away. He just kept advancing on you, grinning devilishly. You turned and scampered away from him with a squeal of delight.

He followed behind, still grasping for the robe. You shrieked and laughed and ran towards the bedroom, and he followed, catching up to you and pushing you onto the bed with a resounding crack of the bed frame.

You laughed as he tumbled on top of you, but he silenced you with his mouth, kissing you hungrily as he impatiently pushed your robe aside. His breath was ragged as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his need too great for the slow, sensual lovemaking of last night. He held his cock against your entrance and smoothly thrusts into you and moaned against your mouth, and you wrapped your legs around him to draw him deeper.

He plunged into you, covering your body and your mouth with the same hungry possession. You were still so warm and wet, so exquisitely ready for him that he filled you easily, driving you relentlessly as he tasted your tongue, your lips, your neck, and groaned from the pleasure your body was giving him.

You tensed around him and he moaned breathlessly, a throaty, male sound of pure ecstasy. He pounded into you, falling into a steady rhythm born of raw, primitive need. Your body tightened around him with every thrust, and waves of pleasure rippled through you, building in intensity up to an almost unbearable pressure, a delicious heat that made you moan into his mouth as he kissed you.

He rose up, his arms braced beside you, to look down as he stroked and withdrew and breathed out his pleasure while his eyes glowed pure heat. He grabbed your rear, tilting one hip up towards him, entering you  on such an angle that a new kaleidoscope of pleasure bloomed throughout you. He gripped you possessively, driving you deeper and faster and harder. His eyes burned, glowing like obsidian, hot and wild and almost frenzied with desire.

“Baby,” he groaned, his eyes pinning you, claiming you, as though he were branding you with your heat.

You're mine...

You're mine...

Your first time together had only been hours ago, but it was as if you had been lovers for years...every fluid flexing of his hips against you hit just the right spot, every deep, powerful thrust of his cock stretched your pussy with a familiar, almost expected surge of pleasure.

“Yes—oh god yes, Bucky—fuck me,” you breathed.

Two simple words and suddenly he was on the edge...buried so deep inside you, thrusting, plunging, your breasts pressed against his chest, the pleasure roaring through his body.

Suddenly he wanted to take you, hard. He wanted to fuck you with abandon, the eyes-closed, head-back, moaning-out-loud kind of sexual abandon that he had so rarely experienced in his life, but which was crashing through his body and mind right now.

He wanted this woman...he wanted to own you, to take you, to claim your body as his....he wanted to fuck you until he'd emptied his balls into you, feeling your pussy clenching and spasming in orgasm around his cock as he came, as you came, as you came together.

He withdrew from you quickly, barely able to catch his breath, and, as if you could read his thoughts, you turned onto your stomach just as his trembling hands guided your hips over. Your hair spilled over your bare back and your ass curved out so seductively it was all he could do not to cum right there, all over your smooth skin. But his cock knew what it wanted, and he pulled you forward to slide into the heaven of your pussy, so wet and tight and swollen for him.

He cried out when he took your again, his cock parting your folds and filling you so completely. The feel of him stretching you, the crest of his head pressing against your  from this new angle...you felt a tremor of pleasure ripple through you and knew you were close, as close as he was. When he leaned over you and began to kiss your  shoulders you shuddered, and when he began to thrust you buried your face in the pillow and moaned.

Your moans of pleasure filled the room and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to last, begging his aching cock not to explode just yet. . .this pace, these quick short strokes as his hips slapped against your ass, your body moving with his every thrust. . .It was almost too much to bear. Bucky buried his faced in your sweet-smelling hair and let his cock plunge as it would, faster and faster, making him shake, making him breathless, making him feel like nothing but a desperate cock as he fucked you.

And fucked you. And fucked you, as you had begged him to...

You could only whimper now, lost to the pleasure of his man taking you like this, fucking you so wildly, almost savagely. The pleasure he was taking from your body, his moans and groans and the growls of pleasure you could feel against your back and in the warm breath at your ear. . . it was pure, primal lust.

You felt worshiped beneath him, as if every thrust of his hungry cock was a tribute to you, every growl and sharp breath an oath. He was fucking you, mindlessly, and yet every part of him was attuned to you, touching you, adoring you.

As his pace grew even faster, his thrusts shallower, you could sense he was about to come, and you felt your muscles tighten around him to heighten his pleasure and hers. His thrusts were so powerful that you felt the orgasm rising in you and you closed your eyes, lifting your head back so he could slide his hand into your hair, gently holding your neck and kissing your jaw with breathy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, God Bucky...I'm coming,” you moaned. “I'm coming.”

“Yes...cum for me baby....cum on my cock.”

“Cum with me....please....I want you to cum inside me, please....please....”

And he could withstand it no more.

Pleasure detonated through him as his orgasm spasmed throughout his body, wracking him with wave after wave of euphoric release. He cried out your name as he thrust and bucked against your flesh, driving his cock deeper and deeper as he came and came and came. It felt like he would never stop cumming, and when he felt your orgasm tear through your pussy and clench his cock in waves, he thought he might black out from the sheer ecstasy of it.

You slammed back against him as the first spurts of cum began to fill you, and felt your  ravaged pussy begin to spasm again and again, milking his cock, pulling his cum deeper into you, flooding you with ripples of pleasure. You moaned and writhed, riding the crest of one orgasm only to feel a second one begin to climb and then crash over you. Breathless, almost sobbing from the pleasure, you let him hold you as he continued to pound into you, draining his balls into you at his will, lost in the utter bliss of a man taking a woman in the most primal way.

When he could bear it no longer, when his exquisitely sensitive cock throbbed within you and the pleasure bordered on pain, he stilled, finally, and shuddered. Sharp spasms of pleasure shot through him as his cock surged one last time within you, his aching balls emptying every last ounce of come. Bucky was almost lightheaded, his chest heaving, sweat glazing his skin as he withdrew his hand from your hair and ran it down the center of your back, needing to touch you, needing to feel your heated skin. You were breathless too, your back moving beneath his hand as you lay your head down and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him withdraw from you, and your  pussy rebelled, clenching to keep him there, as if pleading with him not to go. Bucky groaned softly against your ear as he pulled out and fell on the bed beside you, his arms surrounding you and pulling your back against him. You fit perfectly together, and every muscle in your body relaxed as you snuggled into him and breathed out a contented sigh. You felt his lips on the shell of your ear, kissing softly, felt his slowing breath against your skin as his soft sounds of contentment and pleasure hummed in his throat.

This is heaven, you thought. Pure heaven. your pussy twitched and tingled as you felt his warm come beginning to slip down your  inner thighs. His strong arms surrounded you, his soft lips murmured and whispered and kissed, his spent cock nestled against the curve of your ass.

“There was something I wanted to tell you, remember?” he murmurs, his words brushing warmly against your skin as he kisses a path down to your shoulder. “Last night… something I wanted to say to you. Something I wanted you to know.”

You shift slightly, turning to look at him, your heart pounding as you search his eyes, barely able to breathe. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea.

His gaze softens, an unmistakable warmth filling his expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“I love you.”

The words settle between you, simple but perfect, like they were always meant to be there. Your heart feels like it’s soaring, every nerve in your body alive with the thrill of it, of finally hearing what you’d been aching to hear.

You break into a smile, biting your lip, feeling giddy and light, and without a second thought, you lean forward, kissing him softly, your hand finding his as you whisper back, “I love you too.”

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that feels like home, you realize that, for the first time, everything feels right.

tags: @cereal6666 @thatesqcrush @cl7ire @bighappypiels @mostlymarvelgirl

@winchestert101 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mcira @elvenrin

@xunquish-blog @meetmeattheapt

[katiascraft]

"This is how you fall in love" | OP81

parings: Oscar Piastri x Reader.

Summary: Oscar is truly, madly, deeply in love with you.

Now playing: "this is how you fall in love" by Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler.

Word count: +1,2k

Warnings: I think none just pure fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many errors). I do what I can. Not proofread.

Authors note: hey I don’t even know if this is good - I really hope it is - but I needed to write about Oscar SO BAD. (Btw is Yale in New York? Forgot to look it up). Update: I changed it. Yale it’s no even near to NYC 🤣 I’m a mess. Don’t forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

It was a sunny morning in Monaco. The quiet of the city could still be appreciated. You were asleep on the bed you shared with Oscar. It was your first night here since you haven’t seen each for the last time about 1 month or maybe almost 2. Time is a difficult thing to be aware of with his schedule to be honest.

Both of you had really busy lifestyles yet managed to build this relationship. Mostly it was a long distance relationship. He was traveling and working the whole year. And you were a student at Ivy Columbia University in New York City. As students it was difficult to find a gap between your exam and classes that fitted the races. You tried your best to always be there for him. Even if it was through the phone after the race. And for him that was really considerate.

You didn’t even have time to breathe when it was exams season yet you still find time to call and check on him. He knows it’s an obvious thing you’re supposed to do with people you love. But still he really appreciates it.

He was so happy and grateful you were finally together. Because you don’t see each other that often - every moment you spend together it’s so intense and pure magic. You do everything you could think of before saying goodbye again and part ways. It was the hardest part of your relationship. You said goodbye to each other so many times it anxiety breaking. He just never could get enough from you, from being with you. He has never felt this way about anyone and the fact that it’s been 4 years of being side by side it was crazy to him. How he would never get bored of you. You were always so intriguing, unpredictable, witty. You were the opposite when it came to what others could see. But behind close doors in your little magical and full of love world - you two matched each other's crazy perfectly.

Oscar is an introvert and really shy when it comes to interactions with people, always feeling nervous and so polite. You were always loud and could talk even with a wall if you wanted to. Always the life of the party so extroverted. You were the opposite but the same in a way. You would get so shy around him giggling like the teenager you were since you two met. And he could be the best at flirting and teasing around you. You made him feel so comfortable in his own skin and he just got loose and relaxed. Could be the real him with you. And just for you.

In your little beautiful world you wouldn’t stop talking about everything and anything. Joking around and teasing each other just to end up having sex in the living room. The chemistry between you two was unmatched. Behind your four walls he was the most confident man and you were as well. Bringing the best of each other out. Just for the other one. You were sexy, fierce, not afraid of anything. He made you feel even powerful.the way he always uplift you when you needed him the most and the fact that you could be so vulnerable knowing he won’t judge. He never did. He knew the real you and embraced it. His love changed you so much. He is the best thing that ever happened to you. And you were his. Oscar with you was kind of another person. It was him of course but intensified. Open and free. You gave him that space, that safety. And he adored you so much for that. Being himself it’s something he struggles with most of the time. Shying away. But with you by his side he could be the life of the party too.

He loved watching you study so concentrated. He would join you in silence, maybe by reading a book, or preparing your favorite tea in moral support. Or he would just sit in silence admiring you. How the sun would reflect on you and how it could make you shine even more. How perfect you’d look. And how that could make his heart race high speed. He would feel so lucky to have you. The comfort he felt was so big. He would want the time to stop right there and live stuck there forever. With you. Also, he loved the way you showed him so much love. He loved your homemade cakes and pies. You were so good with pastry. It was your inside joke. Because you were so good with him as well. He sometime would join you and try to help just to fail miserably and start a flour fight. The kitchen ended up in a mess but you were giggling and enjoying yourselves. Everything was worth it.

He really loved sharing activities together. Whether it was a paddle match against George and Carmen or Maria Kart battles with Lando. Also you loved hiking together and discovering new places around Monaco where you could escape reality and plan picnic dates. He loved that you got along so well with his friends and family. Since day one it felt natural. Everyone was welcoming of you. He was so nervous about it. But it was perfect because for him you were.

He heard you coming down the stairs just in time for the breakfast he had prepared for you both. You appeared with your hair in a mess and sleepy eyes. His tshirt on and your boxers of lighting mcqueen. You looked so adorable. Squishy. he smiled widely at you. And you returned the smile hugging him tightly.

“Good morning sleeping beauty” he said sweetly, grabbing you in his arms and kissing your temple. He heard you giggle.

“Good morning my Prince Charming. How grateful I am to wake up next to you for the rest of my life” you said teasingly and romantically looking at him. He giggled blushing. A soft pink tone now on his cheeks. You always had that effect on him.

“and how grateful I am to have you in my arms every morning for the rest of my days” he said just like you making you giggle to then plant a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you,” he said, pulling away gently.

“Me too my love” you said softly.

You two took all of the things he had prepared with so much love to the table by the pool. The morning was beautiful and warm. Perfect. He put all of your favorite fruits and prepared your favorite cappuccino as well. He is always on the details. He remembered everything about you. You didn't have to ask - he already knew. He was perfect. Perfectly imperfect. There was no other man like him. You were sure about it. And you felt really lucky he even looked at you. These past few years were everything and more of what you could ever have dreamed as a kid. You always wanted to have your special someone - but you never thought you would find him.

You had your breakfast talking about what you were gonna do for the day.

Maybe this is what it really feels to fall in love.

Peaceful. Comfortable in silence. Not overthinking. Just being you and feeling loved. Feeling seen. Feeling celebrated. Cared for. Being chosen. The one. The bestest of friends. Your shoulder to cry on. Laughing until crying. Hugs and more hugs. Plasire. Deep talk. Vulnerability. Partnership. Support. Admiration. Trust and communication.

Giving a part of you to someone else to carry everywhere they went trusting they will never break it.

Maybe this is how you fall in love.

How you two fell in love every single day.

——————————————————————————————-

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[paxtito]

childhood sweethearts

pairings: tara x reader (g!p)

word count: 7815

warnings: smut 18+, high tension, swearing, cunilingus, fingering, p in v, alcohol

summary: you and tara are childhood sweethearts, inseparable. so much so that you live with her and sam, but there’s more that friendship brewing under the surface

a/n: this was meant to be a tooth-rotting fluffy fic yet it ended up with smut, i just can’t help myself 😞 apologies in advance for any mistakes

MASTERLIST

Living with Tara and Sam has always felt like living in two different worlds. Tara’s your best friend—has been since forever. She’s the one who shares late-night movie marathons with you, and who can talk you into midnight snack raids like it’s nothing. You know everything about her, from the way she crinkles her nose when something’s funny, to the way she absentmindedly tugs her sleeves over her hands when she’s deep in thought. Tara’s the person who’s always there, the one who feels like home.

And then there’s Sam.

She’s… different. More guarded, quiet. After everything she’s been through, she has walls up, and though she’s been trying to let them down, it’s a slow process. You respect that. Living with her is a different rhythm, and at times it feels like you’re navigating around invisible lines, trying not to step on any of the shadows she carries.

But it’s a balance you’re used to now. Your days are filled with Tara’s laugh and Sam’s quiet presence. You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Tonight, the three of you are scattered across the living room, a comfort zone you’ve created together, cozy and messy in the best way. You and Tara are sprawled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between you, eyes glued to a rerun of some B-grade horror movie that’s more funny than scary. Sam’s sitting in the armchair nearby, flipping through a magazine, occasionally glancing up at the screen with an amused shake of her head.

“Look at that,” Tara laughs, pointing to the screen. “They’re literally running toward the killer. Who does that?”

You chuckle, nudging her. “Maybe they’re just really dedicated to the plot. Can’t let the killer down, right?”

She rolls her eyes, snatching the popcorn bowl and tossing a handful at you. You pretend to be outraged, grabbing a stray piece off the floor and flicking it back at her.

“Hey, no food fights,” Sam calls, her tone light but with that big-sister authority that keeps both of you in line. She smirks, glancing at the mess of popcorn now littering the floor. “I’m not cleaning that up.”

Tara shoots her a mischievous grin. “Come on, Sam, live a little. It’s just popcorn.”

You can’t help but join in, giving Sam a mock-serious look. “Yeah, Sam, loosen up. Tara and I are just getting started.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face. It’s moments like this, when her walls come down and she’s just Sam, just your family, that you feel the warmth of this makeshift home settle deep inside you.

As the movie goes on, Tara gradually ends up with her head on your shoulder, her eyes starting to droop. It’s not long before her breathing evens out, and you realize she’s fallen asleep, curled up against you in that way she always does when she’s completely comfortable.

You glance over at Sam, catching her watching the two of you. There’s a softness in her gaze, a hint of relief that her sister’s safe, that she’s surrounded by people who love her.

“She always falls asleep first,” Sam murmurs, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

You nod, careful not to disturb Tara. “Some things never change.”

There’s a quiet between you and Sam now, an unspoken understanding that’s settled in over the years. Tara’s not just your best friend—she’s family, and so is Sam, in her own way. You’d do anything to protect them, and they know it.

After a moment, Sam gets up, stretching as she glances toward the clock. “I’ll grab a blanket,” she says, her voice soft. “You two are just going to stay there, right?”

You smile, nodding as you settle in a little deeper. “Yeah. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

Sam lingers for a moment, watching you both with that quiet intensity of hers. Then she gives a small nod, almost as if she’s giving her blessing. “Thanks for… sticking with us,” she says, her voice low, and you know she’s not just talking about tonight.

“Anytime,” you say, meaning it.

She leaves the room, and you feel Tara’s head nestle further into your shoulder, her small, content sigh the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. It’s one of those moments that feel perfectly right, like everything has fallen into place. The world outside might be complicated, full of ups and downs, but here, with Tara asleep beside you and Sam watching over both of you, it feels like you’ve found something rare—a family you’ve chosen, one that’s chosen you back.

As Sam returns with a soft blanket, you gently shift Tara to a more comfortable position. She stirs slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but doesn't wake. With practiced ease, you drape the blanket over her, tucking it around her shoulders.

Sam watches, a small smile playing on her lips. "She's lucky," she says quietly, meeting your gaze. "To have you."

There's a weight to her words, a depth of meaning that you don't quite know how to untangle. Instead, you simply nod, feeling an unexpected lump form in your throat.

"We're lucky," you manage, your voice coming out rougher than you intended. "Both of us."

Sam's smile widens, and for a moment, her walls seem to drop, revealing the warmth that's always lurked beneath. "Yeah," she agrees softly.

You look back to Tara, her face peaceful in sleep, and feel a surge of protectiveness wash over you. No matter what comes, you'll always be there for her, just as she's always been there for you.

As if sensing your thoughts, Tara shifts again, her hand reaching out to find yours. Her fingers twine with yours, and she sighs contentedly, burrowing closer.

"She's got a good grip," Sam observes, a note of humor in her voice. "You might be stuck there for a while."

You laugh softly, squeezing Tara's hand. "I don't mind," you say, and it's true. There's nowhere else you'd rather be.

Sam nods, her expression softening. "I know," she says, and there's a certainty in her voice that makes you feel warm all over. "I know."

The movie plays on, the credits rolling, but neither of you pay attention. Instead, you sit there, Tara sleeping between you, and let the moment stretch out, savoring the peace and the quiet and the knowledge that, no matter what happens, you'll always have each other.

ime passes in a blur of contentment, the minutes ticking by as Tara sleeps, safe and warm between you and Sam. The movie long since ended, the room is bathed in the soft glow of the muted TV, the only sound Tara's gentle breathing.

It's hard to say how long you sit there, lost in thought and memories, but eventually, a slight stirring from Tara brings you back to the present. She shifts, her hand tightening around yours as she blinks open sleepy eyes.

"Hey," she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep. She looks up at you, then at Sam, confusion slowly clearing from her features as she takes in her surroundings. "Did I fall asleep?"

You smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Yeah, you did. It was adorable."

Tara laughs, a soft, sleepy sound. She sits up, rubbing at her eyes, and you can't help but watch her, marveling at the way the light catches in her hair, at the curve of her smile.

"What time is it?" she asks, yawning widely.

Sam glances at the clock. "Almost midnight," she says. "You've been out for a few hours.

Tara stretches, arching her back in a way that makes your breath catch. "Wow," she says, grinning. "Guess I needed it."

She turns to you, her gaze soft. "Thanks for letting me crash on you," she says, her voice low and intimate.

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a blush rising to your cheeks. "Anytime," you manage, your voice coming out rougher than you intended.

Tara's smile widens, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world has fallen away, like it's just the two of you, lost in each other's eyes.

Sam clears her throat, and you jolt back to reality, realizing how long you've been staring at each other. Tara laughs, breaking the spell, and you feel a rush of relief mixed with disappointment.

Tara stretches again, her shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. She's always been beautiful, but there's something about the way she looks right now, sleep-rumpled and soft, that makes your heart race.

"I should probably get to bed," she says, standing up and smoothing down her clothes. "Early class tomorrow."

You nod, trying to hide the disappointment on your face. "Yeah, of course."

She smiles at you, a quick, playful thing. "Night, Y/N," she says, and before you can respond, she leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek.

It's over in an instant, but the warmth of her lips lingers long after she's gone, a ghost of sensation that makes your skin tingle.

Sam raises an eyebrow as Tara disappears down the hall. "Well," she says, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something you can't quite identify. "That was... unexpected."

You feel your face heat, and you're suddenly very interested in the popcorn bowl in your lap. "Yeah," you manage, clearing your throat.

Sam doesn't push, but you can feel her gaze on you, assessing, considering. You're not sure what she sees, but you know it's something that goes beyond mere friendship, something that you're not quite ready to put a name to.

"I'm going to bed too," Sam says finally, standing up and stretching. "You're welcome to stay and finish the movie if you want."

You nod, giving her a small smile. "Thanks," you say. "I think I'll just... clean up a bit and then head to my room."

Sam nods, giving you a quick, companionable hug before heading off to her own bedroom. You're left alone in the living room, the ghost of Tara's kiss still tingling on your skin.

As you gather up the empty popcorn bowl and soda cans, your mind wanders to Tara, to the way she looked at you, the way she smiled. You know there's something there, something more than just friendship.

With the living room tidied up, you head to your bedroom, your mind still reeling from Tara's surprise kiss. The soft glow of your bedside lamp illuminates the room as you start your nightly routine, washing your face and brushing your teeth.

As you slip into your pajamas, you can't help but think about Tara, about the way her lips felt against your skin, the way her eyes sparkled in the dim light. You know you shouldn't read too much into it, but you can't help the flutter in your chest, the warmth that spreads through your veins at the memory.

You climb into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin, and stare at the ceiling. Your mind races with thoughts of Tara, of the moments you've shared, the laughter and the tears and everything in between. You've always had a special bond, but lately, it seems to have shifted, grown into something deeper, more intense.

You close your eyes, trying to will yourself to sleep, but your mind won't quiet. You remember the way Tara looked at you, the heat in her gaze, the unspoken promise in her smile. You wonder what it would be like to kiss her for real, to feel her body pressed against yours, to lose yourself in the taste and the touch and the feel of her.

—

You jolt awake to the sound of raised voices, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, you're disoriented, unsure of where you are or what's happening. But then the familiar sounds of Tara and Sam arguing filter through the haze of sleep, and you relax slightly.

"I'm serious, Tara," Sam's voice comes, tight with frustration. "You can't just leave your dishes in the sink for days on end. It's gross."

"Oh, please," Tara scoffs, her voice muffled by the closed door. "It's not like there's anything growing in there. And besides, it's not like you're some perfect housekeeper."

You hear a huff of annoyance, followed by the sound of a cabinet opening and closing. "Just because I don't leave my dishes in the sink doesn't mean I'm perfect," Sam says, her voice calmer now. "I'm just asking you to be considerate."

There's a pause, and you can picture Tara rolling her eyes, her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest. "Fine," she says finally, the word dragged out of her reluctantly. "Y/N will clean them- Y/N!!” She shouts, calling out to you.

You groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you stumble out of bed. The argument between Tara and Sam is still going strong, and you can't help but smile slightly at their bickering. It's a familiar sound, one that's been a constant background noise to your life for as long as you can remember.

You make your way to the kitchen, yawning as you enter the fray. Tara's standing by the sink, her arms crossed and a mutinous expression on her face. Sam's at the counter, her arms full of dirty dishes.

"Morning, sunshine," Tara says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Ready to play maid?"

You roll your eyes, taking the dishes from Sam and setting them in the sink. "Why am I not surprised to find you two fighting over chores?" you ask, turning on the water and squirting some dish soap into the basin.

Tara huffs, picking up a sponge and starting to scrub at a particularly stubborn spot. "It's not fair," she grumbles. "Why do I have to do all the work?"

You just shake your head, starting to wash the dishes. "Because you left them in the sink for days," you say, your tone mild. "And because Sam asked you nicely to clean them, and you said you would."

Tara's scowl deepens, and she thrusts the sponge at you. "Here," she says, her voice tight. "You do it, then."

You take the sponge, a grin tugging at your lips. "Fine," you say, and before she can react, you flick a bit of soapy water at her.

Tara yelps, dropping the sponge and glaring at you. "Oh, you're on," she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She grabs another sponge and starts chasing you around the kitchen, flicking soapy water everywhere.

You laugh, dodging her attempts to splash you. "Tara, stop!" you gasp, trying to dodge another spray of water. "You're making a mess!"

Tara ignores your pleas, too caught up in the impromptu soapy water fight. She corners you by the fridge, a triumphant grin on her face as she raises her sponge threateningly.

"Gotcha now!" she crows, but before she can strike, you lunge forward, tackling her to the ground. You end up in a tangle of limbs, both of you gasping for breath and covered in suds.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, your faces inches apart, the rest of the world fading away. Tara's eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of her.

Then, as if a spell has been broken, you both burst into laughter, the tension dissipating like the bubbles around you. Tara rolls to the side, wiping sudsy water from her eyes.

"Okay, okay," she says, holding up her hands in surrender. "Truce."

You nod, accepting her offer, and help her to her feet. You're both covered in soap and water, your hair plastered to your heads, but you don't care. For a moment, you just stand there, breathing heavily, exchanging grins.

Then, as if remembering the presence of the other person in the room, you both turn to look at Sam. She's leaning against the counter, her arms crossed and a bemused expression on her face.

"Really, you two?" she says, shaking her head. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and you're making a mess of the kitchen?"

You and Tara exchange a guilty glance, then look back at Sam, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you say, trying to sound contrite but failing miserably.

Sam sighs, but there's a smile tugging at her lips. "Just... finish cleaning up, okay?" she says, pushing off the counter and heading out of the kitchen. "And try to keep the water on the dishes, not on each other."

You and Tara watch her go, then turn back to each other, laughing softly. "Come on," you say, picking up a sponge and tossing it to Tara.

Tara catches the sponge, grinning at you as she starts scrubbing at the dishes again. You join her, working in companionable silence for a few minutes. The suds slide over the plates and bowls, leaving them clean and sparkling.

"You know," Tara says, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, "if you wanted to get me wet, there are easier ways than a soapy water fight."

You nearly drop the plate you're washing, your face flushing hot. "Tara!" you gasp, sputtering for words. "You can't just say things like that!"

You chuckle, shaking your head at her antics. “To be fair, that was a good one.” You say, holding your soapy fist out for a fist bump.

Tara laughs, bumping her fist against yours, sending suds flying. "Thanks," she says, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "I've been practicing."

You roll your eyes, but you can't keep the smile off your face. Tara's always been like this - quick-witted, playful, unafraid to push boundaries. It's one of the things you love about her, even if it sometimes drives you crazy.

Tara's eyes light up as she leans forward, her sandwich forgotten. "Oh my god, Y/N, there's this party coming up. It's like, a big fancy dress thing. Everyone who's anyone will be there."

She's practically bouncing in her seat, her excitement palpable. You can't help but smile at her enthusiasm, even as a small part of you wonders if this is really a good idea.

"That sounds... interesting," you say cautiously, trying to gauge her reaction. "Are you sure you want to go? I mean, after everything that's happened..."

Tara waves a hand dismissively, her smile never faltering. "That's exactly why we should go," she says, her voice earnest. "We can't let what happened define us, you know? We need to live our lives."

There's a glint in her eye as she turns to you, her smile turning sly. "Besides," she says, her voice lowering conspiratorially, "it'll be a chance for us to dress up, look hot, and show everyone that we're not going to be pushed around."

Tara's eyes sparkle with excitement as she leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's go shopping tomorrow," she suggests, her fingers brushing against your arm in a gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. "We can find the perfect outfits, something that'll really turn heads."

You hesitate, biting your lip as you consider her proposal. On one hand, the idea of spending the day with Tara, of picking out costumes and imagining how you'll look together... it's tempting. But on the other hand, you can't help but worry about the implications. Going to a party together, dressing up in matching outfits... it would send a message, one that you're not sure you're ready to confront.

"I don't know, Tara," you say finally, your voice hesitant. "Isn't that a bit... much? I mean, we've never really done anything like that before."

Tara's smile never wavers, and she shrugs, her eyes never leaving yours. "So? That's exactly why we should do it," she says, her voice low and persuasive. "It'll be fun, Y/N. Trust me."

You feel your resolve wavering under the force of her gaze, under the promise in her words. You know that Tara's not the type to back down easily, and the thought of disappointing her, of letting her down... it's not something you want to do.

"Okay," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's do it. Let's go shopping tomorrow."

Tara's grin widens, and she leans in and presses a quick, impulsive kiss to your cheek, her lips soft and warm against your skin. "Thank you," she breathes, her voice thick with emotion.

—

The next day, you find yourself being dragged through the mall by an enthusiastic Tara, her eyes bright with excitement as she pulls you from store to store. You can't help but smile at her energy, even as you feel a bit overwhelmed by the sheer variety of options available.

"Come on, Y/N," she says, tugging on your arm as she leads you into yet another shop. "This one looks promising."

You follow her inside, taking in the racks of elaborate costumes and accessories. There are superheroes and villains, fairy tale characters and historical figures, each more outlandish than the last. You can't help but feel a bit out of place, your masculine-presenting self sticking out amidst the sea of frills and glitter.

Tara, however, seems right at home. She's already rifling through the racks, her eyes sparkling with delight as she holds up various options for your inspection.

"What about this one?" she asks, holding up a rather revealing pirate costume. "We could be a swashbuckling duo, ready to take on the world."

You flush, shaking your head. "I don't think so," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's a bit too... revealing."

Tara pouts, but she doesn't argue. Instead, she moves on to the next rack, her brow furrowed in concentration. You can't help but admire the way she looks, the way her eyes light up with each new discovery.

After what feels like hours, Tara finally emerges from the racks, a triumphant grin on her face. "I found them," she says, her voice thick with excitement. "Come on, you've got to see."

You follow Tara to the back of the store, where she's standing with a grin on her face and two costumes in her hands. She holds them out to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What do you think?" she asks, her voice low and playful. "Cowboys?"

You take the costumes from her, your heart skipping a beat as you realize what she's suggesting. The costumes are classic Western fare - faded denim jeans, checked shirts, and wide-brimmed hats. They're simple, but effective, and you can't help but imagine how you'll look together, dressed in matching outfits.

"I like it," you say finally, looking up at Tara. "It's perfect."

Tara's grin widens, and she leans in close, her body pressing against yours in a way that makes your breath catch. "Great," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let's try them on."

She takes the costumes from you, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. She turns and starts to walk towards the changing rooms, her hips swaying with each step.

You follow her, your heart racing in your chest. As you step into the changing room, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation, a thrill of excitement at the thought of what's to come.

You strip off your clothes, your hands trembling slightly as you pull on the jeans and the shirt. The fabric feels strange against your skin, foreign but not unpleasant. You run your hands over the rough material, marveling at the way it feels, at the way it makes you feel.

When you're dressed, you step out of the changing room, your heart in your throat. Tara's waiting for you, her own costume looking like it was made for her. She grins when she sees you, her eyes roaming over your body in a way that makes you feel exposed, vulnerable.

"You look good," she says, her voice husky. "Really good."

You flush, your cheeks heating under her gaze. "You too," you manage, your voice coming out rougher than you intended.

Tara's grin widens, her eyes sparkling with mischief and something else, something deeper, more intense. She steps closer to you, her body almost touching yours, her hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your forehead.

"We make a pretty good pair, don't we?" she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. "Like we were made for each other."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You know you should say something, should respond, but the words catch in your throat, lost in the haze of her proximity, the warmth of her touch.

Tara's hand trails down your cheek, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw, the curve of your lips. You can feel the heat of her skin, the softness of her touch, and you have to resist the urge to lean into it, to close the distance between you.

"Y/N," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "I..."

She trails off, her gaze locked with yours, her eyes searching, questioning. You can see the uncertainty in them, the fear, the hope, and it makes your heart ache.

You reach up, your hand covering hers, your thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Tara," you say, your voice steady, sure. "I..."

You clear your throat, a forced smile spreading across your face as you pull back from Tara's touch. "So, uh, these costumes are great," you say, your voice overly cheerful, almost manic. "I can't wait to wear them to the party."

Tara blinks, her brows furrowing slightly at your sudden change in demeanor. But she recovers quickly, a smile spreading across her own face as she steps back, her hand falling away from your cheek.

"Yeah," she says, her voice a bit hesitant. "They really are perfect."

You nod, your grin widening. "Absolutely," you say, clapping your hands together. "We're going to look amazing, like we stepped right out of a Western movie."

Tara laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You're such a dork," she says, but there's no bite to her words, only affection.

You shrug, playing up the goofy persona. "Hey, someone's gotta be the comedic relief," you say, winking at her. "Might as well be me."

Tara rolls her eyes, but she's grinning now, the tension from earlier dissipating like smoke in the wind. "Alright, cowgirl," she says, poking you in the chest. "Let's go pay for these bad boys and get out of here. I'm starving."

—

The night of the party arrives, and you find yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your costume for what feels like the hundredth time. The jeans fit perfectly, hugging your curves in all the right places, and the shirt is soft and worn, like it's been with you for years. The hat sits at a jaunty angle on your head, completing the look.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing in your chest. You can hear the music thumping from downstairs, the sound of laughter and chatter floating up to your room. You know you should head down, should immerse yourself in the festivities, but you can't help but feel a twinge of nerves.

You turn to look at Tara, who's standing in the doorway of your room, her own costume looking like it was made for her. She grins when she sees you, her eyes roaming over your body in a way that makes your skin tingle.

"You look amazing," she says, her voice low and appreciative. "Like a real-life cowgirl."

You flush, ducking your head in a way that you hope looks cute and not embarrassed. "Thanks," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Tara laughs, stepping into the room and closing the distance between you. "Shall we?" she asks, holding out her hand to you.

You hesitate for a moment, your gaze locked with hers, before you finally take her hand, your fingers intertwining with hers. "Let's do it," you say, your voice steady, sure.

Together, you descend the stairs, the music growing louder with each step. The party is in full swing when you enter the living room, the room packed with people in elaborate costumes, dancing and laughing and drinking.

Tara leads you into the fray, her hand still in yours, her body pressed close to yours as you navigate the crowd. You can feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of your shirt, the warmth of her breath on your neck, and it makes your head spin.

As the night wears on, the alcohol flows freely, and the party takes on a hazy, surreal quality. You find yourself pulled into the whirlwind of it all, laughing and dancing and drinking until your head spins and your feet ache.

Throughout it all, Tara is by your side, her hand in yours, her body pressed close to yours. The more you drink, the more you notice the way she looks at you, the heat in her gaze, the way her fingers linger on your skin.

At some point, you find yourself in the backyard, the cool night air a welcome respite from the stuffy heat of the house. Tara leans against a tree, her head tilted back, her eyes closed. You stand next to her, your shoulder brushing against hers, the contact sending a shiver down your spine.

"Y/N," Tara slurs, her voice low and thick. "I'm so glad you came tonight."

You smile, your own words slightly slurred. "Me too," you say, leaning against the tree next to her. "It's been a really fun night."

Tara opens her eyes, turning to look at you. Her gaze is intense, focused, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. "It has," she agrees, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not over yet."

She reaches out, her hand cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing over your lips. You feel your heart race, your skin tingle where she touches you.

"Tara," you breathe, your voice a mix of desire and trepidation. "What are you doing?"

Tara's smile is slow, seductive. "What does it look like?" she murmurs, her hand sliding down to your neck, your collarbone. "I'm kissing you, Y/N."

And then she does, her lips pressing against yours in a searing, passionate kiss that takes your breath away. You moan into her mouth, your hands coming up to grip her waist, pulling her closer.

The kiss seems to last for an eternity, the world fading away until there's nothing but the two of you, lost in each other.

When Tara finally pulls away, you're both panting, your faces flushed and your eyes glazed. She stares at you for a long moment, her gaze searching, before she leans in again, her lips brushing against yours in a series of soft, teasing kisses.

"God, you taste good," she murmurs, her voice low and husky. "I've wanted to do that for so long."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Tara," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "Are you sure about this? I mean, we're so drunk, and..."

Tara silences you with a finger to your lips, her eyes locking with yours. "Shh," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "Don't overthink it, Y/N. Just feel."

And then she's kissing you again, her tongue sliding against yours, her hands tangling in your hair. You moan into her mouth, your body melting against hers, your reservations fading away like mist in the morning sun.

Tara's hands slide down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you even closer. You can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of your jeans, the hardness of her body pressing against yours.

"Fuck," Tara gasps, breaking the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. "I want you, Y/N. I want you so fucking bad."

You groan, your head falling back against the tree as Tara's mouth works its magic on your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Your hands slide under her shirt, your fingers skimming over the smooth skin of her stomach, the curve of her ribs.

You and Tara stumble out of the party, your arms wrapped around each other, your steps unsteady and your laughter echoing in the night air. You can barely keep your hands off each other, your bodies pressed close, your lips brushing against each other's skin at every opportunity.

As you make your way back to the apartment, you can't help but giggle at the absurdity of it all. Here you are, drunk and horny and in love, trying to make it through the front door without waking the sleeping beauty within.

"Quiet, quiet," Tara whispers, her voice loud enough to wake the dead. "We don't want to disturb Princess Samantha."

You snort, your hand clamping over your mouth to stifle your laughter. "Shh," you hiss, your eyes watering with mirth. "You're going to wake her up."

Tara just grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief and alcohol. "Let her sleep," she says, her voice conspiratorial. "More time for us."

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing out loud. Carefully, you unlock the door, your fingers fumbling with the key in your drunken state. Finally, you manage to get it open, and you and Tara tumble inside, your arms and legs tangled together.

You close the door as quietly as you can, your ears straining for any sound of movement from Sam's room. But all is silent, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Tara, however, is not so subtle. She grabs you around the waist, pulling you close and nuzzling your neck. "Now," she murmurs, her voice thick with desire, "where were we?"

You groan, your head falling back against the wall. "Tara," you whisper, your voice a mix of exasperation and arousal. "We can't. Not here. Sam's right there."

Tara's lips curl into a wicked grin. "So?" she breathes, her hand sliding down your back, your ass. "She's asleep. She won't know a thing.”

You hesitate for a moment, your arousal warring with your common sense. But in the end, the desire wins out, and you practically growl as you scoop Tara up in your arms, carrying her towards your bedroom.

"Y/N," Tara breathes, her arms looping around your neck, her lips trailing kisses along your jawline. "Fuck, you're so strong."

You feel a surge of pride at her words, your steps quickening as you navigate the hallway. You kick open the door to your room, your eyes never leaving Tara's face.

You lay her down on the bed gently, your body covering hers, your lips finding hers in a searing kiss. Tara moans into your mouth, her hands tangling in your hair, urging you closer.

You break the kiss, your breath coming in short pants as you trail your lips down her neck, your teeth grazing her skin. "Fuck, Tara," you murmur, your voice rough with desire. "I want you so bad."

You take your time, savoring every moment as you explore Tara's body with your hands and mouth. You trail kisses down her neck, your tongue darting out to taste her skin, to feel the flutter of her pulse beneath your lips.

Tara arches into your touch, her fingers tangling in your hair, urging you on. "Y/N," she breathes, her voice thick with desire. "Please."

You smile against her skin, your hands sliding under her shirt, skimming over the soft curves of her stomach, the dip of her waist. You can feel the heat of her skin, the way she trembles beneath your touch, and it makes your own body respond in kind.

Slowly, reverently, you peel off her shirt, exposing the creamy expanse of her breasts. You lower your head, your tongue circling one hardened nipple before you take it into your mouth, sucking gently, teasingly.

Tara gasps, her back arching off the bed, her hands fisting in the sheets. "Fuck," she moans, her voice breathy and strained. "That feels so good."

You hum in response, your mouth moving to her other breast, your hand sliding down the smooth plane of her stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of her jeans. Tara lifts her hips, helping you tug the denim down her legs, revealing the lacy black panties beneath.

You pause for a moment, your eyes roaming over the sight of her, spread out before you like a feast. "God," you murmur, your voice rough with awe. "You're so beautiful, Tara."

Tara flushes, a shy smile spreading across her face. "So are you," she whispers, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "So are you."

With that, you lower your head, your mouth finding the heat between her thighs, your tongue delving into her folds, tasting her essence. Tara cries out, her hips bucking against your face, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you close.

You continue your ministrations, your tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of her. Tara's moans fill the room, her body writhing beneath you, her hands clutching at the sheets.

"Y/N," she gasps, her voice ragged. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You have no intention of stopping. You're lost in the taste of her, the feel of her, the sounds she's making. You redouble your efforts, your tongue flicking over her clit, your fingers sliding inside her, curling against that special spot that makes her see stars.

Tara's back arches off the bed, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her orgasm crashes over her. You feel her come undone, her walls fluttering around your fingers, her essence flooding your mouth.

You don't stop, not until she's boneless and spent, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Only then do you crawl up her body, your lips finding hers in a searing kiss.

"Fuck," Tara pants when you finally break apart. "That was incredible."

You grin, your eyes dark with desire. "We're just getting started," you murmur, your hand sliding down her body, dipping between her thighs once more.

Tara gasps, her hips bucking against your hand. "Again?" she asks, her voice breathy with anticipation. "Already?"

You just smile, your fingers teasing her entrance. "Oh, we're just getting started," you repeat, your voice low and promising. "I'm going to make you feel so good, Tara. Over and over again."

You make good on your promise, your fingers sliding inside Tara once more, curling against that special spot that makes her moan. You can feel her tightening around you, her body tensing as she gets closer and closer to the edge.

"Y/N," she gasps, her nails digging into your shoulders. "I'm so close, fuck, I'm so close."

You increase your pace, your thumb circling her clit, your fingers thrusting deeper, harder. Tara's back arches, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her orgasm crashes over her once more.

You don't stop, not until she's trembling and spent, her body limp against the sheets. Only then do you pull away, your fingers slick with her essence.

Tara looks up at you, her eyes hazy with satisfaction, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "Holy shit," she breathes, her voice hoarse. "That was... wow."

You grin, leaning down to capture her lips in a soft, tender kiss. "I told you," you murmur against her mouth. "We're just getting started."

Tara hums, her arms coming up to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer. "Then what are we waiting for?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let's keep going."

You take your time, exploring every inch of Tara's body with your hands and mouth. You map out the curves and valleys of her skin, committing every dip and swell to memory. You want to learn her, to know her, to worship her in every way possible.

Tara responds to your touch, her body arching into yours, her hands roaming over your back, your shoulders, your arms. She traces the lines of your muscles, marveling at the strength she feels beneath your skin.

"Fuck, Y/N," she moans, her voice thick with desire. "You feel so good."

You grin, your ego boosted by her praise. "So do you," you murmur, your lips trailing down her neck, your teeth grazing her collarbone. "You feel fucking incredible."

You continue your exploration, your mouth finding her breasts, your tongue circling her nipples. Tara gasps, her back arching off the bed, her fingers tangling in your hair.

"Please," she begs, her voice ragged with need. "Please, Y/N, I need you inside me."

You pause, looking up at her with hooded eyes. "Are you sure?" you ask, your voice low and rough. "Because once I start, I don't think I'll be able to stop."

Tara's grin is wicked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then don't stop," she breathes, her legs falling open in invitation. "Don't you dare stop."

With that, you position yourself between her thighs, the head of your cock nudging against her entrance. Tara's breath hitches, her hands gripping your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin.

You pause, giving her a chance to change her mind, to back out if she wants to. But she just looks up at you, her eyes filled with trust and desire, and you know there's no going back.

So you push forward, slowly, carefully, feeling her tight heat envelop you inch by delicious inch. Tara's moan is long and low, her head falling back against the pillows as you fill her completely.

Tara's moan is long and low, her head falling back against the pillows as you fill her completely. Her nails dig into your shoulders, her legs wrapping around your waist, urging you deeper.

"Fuck, Y/N," she gasps, her voice ragged with pleasure. "You feel so good inside me."

You pause for a moment, giving her a chance to adjust, to get used to the feeling of you stretching her, filling her. Then, slowly, carefully, you start to move, your hips rocking against hers in a steady, sensual rhythm.

Tara meets your movements, her hips lifting to meet yours, her body undulating beneath you. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixed with your combined moans and gasps, the creak of the bed beneath you.

You lean down, capturing Tara's lips in a searing kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. She kisses you back fiercely, her tongue tangling with yours, her fingers sliding into your hair, holding you close.

The world falls away, narrowing down to this moment, this feeling, this connection between the two of you. You lose yourself in Tara, in the heat of her body, the taste of her skin, the sound of her moans.

You pick up the pace, your hips snapping against hers, your cock driving deeper, harder, faster. Tara's breath comes in short, sharp gasps, her nails raking down your back, her fingers digging into your ass, urging you on.

"Y/N," she pants, her voice high and tight. "Fuck, Y/N, harder, please, fuck me harder."

You oblige, your hips slamming against hers, the bed shaking beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall. Tara's moans grow louder, higher, her body tensing, her walls fluttering around you.

You don't forget, of course. As you thrust into Tara, your hand slides between your bodies, your fingers finding her clit. You rub in slow, steady circles, matching the rhythm of your hips, the pressure building with each pass.

Tara cries out, her back arching off the bed, her hips bucking against your hand, your cock. "Fuck, yes," she gasps, her voice ragged. "Right there, don't stop, please don't stop."

You don't stop, not until Tara is a writhing, moaning mess beneath you, her body trembling, her walls clenching around you. You can feel her getting closer and closer, her movements becoming more frantic, her moans more desperate.

"Y/N," she pants, her eyes locked with yours, pleading, desperate. "I'm so close, fuck, I'm so close."

You increase your pace, your fingers moving faster, harder, your cock driving deeper, deeper. Tara's moans grow louder, higher, her body tensing, her nails digging into your back.

"Come for me, Tara," you growl, your voice rough with desire. "Come on my cock, let me feel you."

With a final, keening cry, Tara comes undone, her body convulsing, her walls clamping down around you like a vice. You follow her over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you, your hips jerking, your cock pulsing inside her.

You collapse on top of her, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears. Tara's arms come up to wrap around you, holding you close, her fingers tracing patterns on your back.

"Wow," she breathes, her voice soft, awed. "That was... incredible."

You wake up slowly, your body feeling deliciously sore and satisfied. It takes you a moment to realize that you're not alone in the bed, that you're wrapped around Tara, your limbs entangled with hers.

Memories of the night before flood back - the party, the drinking, the heated make out session in the backyard, the desperate, passionate lovemaking when you finally made it back to your apartment. A blush rises to your cheeks at the thought, your body tingling with residual pleasure.

You shift slightly, your leg brushing against Tara's, and she stirs, her eyes fluttering open. She smiles when she sees you, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your lips.

"Morning," she murmurs, her voice husky from sleep. "Last night was... wow."

You grin, leaning into her touch. "It really was," you agree, your own voice rough with sleep and satisfaction. "Definitely a night to remember."

Just then, a loud clearing of the throat breaks the moment. You both turn your heads to see Sam standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, a smirk on her face.

"Well, well, well," she drawls, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Looks like you two had quite the night."

You flush, sitting up quickly and tugging the covers up to your chin. Tara just yawns, stretching languidly, seemingly unconcerned by her sister's presence.

"Shut up, Sam," Tara grumbles, her voice still thick with sleep. "We're not doing anything wrong."

Sam just raises an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Could've fooled me," she says, her eyes flicking down to your rumpled clothes, your tousled hair. "You two look thoroughly fucked, if you ask me."

You feel your blush deepen, your mouth opening and closing as you try to find a response. But Sam just waves you off, her smirk never leaving her face.

"Save it," she says, shaking her head. "I don't want to hear the details. Just... try to keep it down next time… I always knew this day would come. Mindy owes me 20 bucks.”

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1880 - labyrinth of my heart

chapter summary: When walking the streets of Chicago he spots you across the street, so real, so alive. Logan takes this as a second chance; but fear slowly slithers up, making him wonder if he'll lose you all over again.

word count: 9.3k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: first, i want to say thank you so much for the support and love for this series! this is way shorter than the first chapter, only because i wanted the ending to feel abrupt to hopefully make it feel more realistic. anyways, i'm super excited for next chapter since it's a concept i haven't ever really done before. but for now, enjoy this while it lasts :)

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, character death

series masterlist - chapter 1 → chapter 3

Logan left New York City after you died, going back to Victor who told him exactly what he expected to hear, ‘you shouldn’t have fallen in love,’ and ‘the only people we can trust is each other’.

The Civil War had begun seven years after your death as he and Victor fought for the North for four whole years. There was one thing he always kept with him, the ring he bought for you, that he never got to use. It stayed in his pocket at all times, never leaving, always there.

He had been doing the same thing he was doing before he met you, moving around the country, never staying in a spot for too long, doing odd jobs to stay afloat.

Logan found himself in Chicago, walking along the sidewalk, the faint sound of a train in the distance. The air was heavy with the scent of coal smoke, the city bustling with life in the late afternoon. Men in long coats and women in modest dresses hurried past him, some tipping their hats in his direction as he walked by. It was just another city to him, another place he would pass through on his way to nowhere in particular.

It had been 26 years since you died. Twenty-six long years, but to Logan, it still felt like yesterday. The weight of your loss hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had only grown heavier. Every town, every face he saw, reminded him of you in some way. That soft smile you always wore, the way you’d brush your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. He kept your memory alive in the smallest of ways. The ring he’d never had the chance to give you stayed in his pocket, its presence a constant, painful reminder.

He walked without a destination, his mind lost in the past as his feet carried him down the streets of Chicago. The city had a pulse of its own, far different from the quiet life in New York where you’d once lived, where you had died in his arms. He hadn't felt truly alive since then—just going through the motions of life, the decades slipping by as if time itself didn’t matter.

As Logan neared a small schoolhouse, something caught his eye. A group of children were gathered outside, their laughter echoing through the street as they played. But it wasn’t the children that caused Logan to stop. It was the woman standing among them, her smile bright as she helped one of the younger boys tie his shoe. The world around him seemed to blur, fading away as his gaze locked onto her.

It was you.

Logan’s heart stilled in his chest. He blinked, sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but there you were, the same face, the same gentle presence. You looked exactly as you had all those years ago—maybe a little younger, maybe a little different, but unmistakably you.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching you laugh with the children, completely unaware of his presence. His mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. You were dead. He had been there. He had held you as you took your last breath, felt the life leave your body. And yet, here you were, as if the last 26 years had never happened.

Logan’s feet moved on their own, pulling him closer to the schoolyard. His heart pounded in his chest, his throat dry. His mind raced with a thousand questions. How could this be? Was it some kind of dream? A cruel trick?

But the closer he got, the more real you became. You were wearing a simple dress, your hair tied up in a way he hadn’t seen before, and yet everything about you felt so familiar. The way you carried yourself, the warmth in your eyes as you spoke to the children—it was all you.

“Excuse me, miss,” he called out, his voice rougher than he intended.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his for the first time, and Logan felt his heart lurch. It was like being thrown back in time—like the years between this moment and the day you died had vanished. You looked at him with a polite curiosity, but there was no recognition in your eyes. No flicker of memory. To you, he was just a stranger.

“Yes, can I help you?” you asked, your voice soft, kind.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly explain what was running through his mind? How could he tell you that he had loved you, that he had lost you, and that now—somehow—you were standing in front of him again?

“I... I thought I knew you,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. He didn’t trust himself to say more. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the ring in his pocket suddenly feeling heavier than ever.

You smiled, but it was the smile of someone trying to be polite, not of someone who knew him. “I don’t think we’ve met before,” you said. “I’m Y/N. I’m the schoolteacher here.”

Logan swallowed hard. Of course, you wouldn’t remember. You had no idea who he was, no memory of the life you’d lived before. To you, this was just another day, another moment. But to Logan, it was everything. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You were here, alive again, but you weren’t his Y/N. Not yet, anyway.

“I’m Logan,” he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, his heart aching in a way that felt both familiar and new.

You nodded, offering another warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. Was there something you needed?”

Logan shook his head slowly, still reeling from the shock of seeing you again. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I... I just thought you looked like someone I used to know.”

You tilted your head slightly, a curious look in your eyes. “I get that sometimes. Chicago’s a big city, but it can feel small.”

Logan nodded, though his mind was far from this moment. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some kind of miracle—a second chance. But what could he do with it? Could he approach you, tell you everything? Or would that only drive you away?

Before he could say anything more, the school bell rang, and the children started to gather their things. You glanced back at the sound, then looked at him with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I have to get back to my class. But maybe I’ll see you around?”

Logan nodded, his throat too tight to respond with words. He watched as you turned and walked back toward the schoolhouse, his heart aching with the weight of all the things he couldn’t say.

For the first time in 26 years, Logan felt hope stir in his chest. You were here. You were alive. And even if you didn’t remember him, even if you didn’t know who he was... he couldn’t walk away. Not this time.

---

Logan stayed near the schoolyard most afternoons, hidden just enough not to draw attention, watching you from a distance. It felt strange, almost painful, standing there, knowing you had no idea who he was. Every time you emerged from the schoolhouse with Ida, another schoolteacher, chatting and laughing, the urge to approach you tugged at him. But fear held him back—fear that you’d think he was insane, or worse, that you’d reject him outright.

He clenched his fists inside his coat pockets, feeling the cool metal of the ring press against his palm. It had been with him through wars, across states, through lifetimes. And now, here you were, alive again, and he still didn’t know what to do with it.

It was absurd, the way his heart raced just from seeing you walk down the street. How after all these years—after so much pain—hope could sneak its way back in. This wasn’t just a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Logan wasn’t the type to believe in magic or miracles, but what else could explain this?

As he lingered, the school bell rang, signaling the end of another day. Children poured out of the building, laughing and running. A few hung on your arms as you walked them down the steps, their chatter filling the air.

Logan shifted from foot to foot, nerves prickling along his spine. Just talk to her, idiot. You’ve been through worse.

But when you stepped into the street, Ida at your side as usual, the words died in his throat.

“Y/N, you coming for dinner at my place tonight?” Ida asked, tucking a stray curl beneath her bonnet.

You smiled, brushing your hands on your skirts. “Can’t tonight, but I’ll stop by tomorrow. The kids wore me out today.”

Ida chuckled. “You’ll turn into an old maid before you’re thirty at this rate.”

You rolled your eyes, but your laugh was warm. Logan felt the sound of it settle deep in his chest—like an old memory coming back to life. It was a laugh he hadn’t heard in 26 years, and it took everything in him not to run to you right then and there.

As you and Ida turned the corner toward the tenement, Logan followed at a distance. His heart hammered against his ribs. He just needed a moment, a chance to say something—anything.

Finally, the two of you paused outside the building. Ida gave you a quick hug before heading upstairs, leaving you alone on the stoop. You stood there for a moment, adjusting your shawl against the evening chill.

This is it. Now or never.

Logan forced his feet to move, crossing the street toward you.

You looked up as he approached, a little surprised but not alarmed. “Logan, wasn’t it?”

His throat felt tight, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Logan.”

You smiled softly, the same kind smile that had haunted his dreams. “What brings you by?”

He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. “I... I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but there was no fear, only curiosity. “About what?”

Logan shifted his weight, his hands tightening around the edges of his coat. The ring in his pocket seemed to burn against his skin, a reminder of everything unsaid.

“I... You remind me of someone,” he admitted, voice low. “Someone I lost a long time ago.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze steady but gentle. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It was.”

There was a beat of silence between you—heavy, charged with the weight of all the things Logan couldn’t say. You didn’t know him, didn’t know what you’d meant to him in another life, but standing here, so close to you again, it felt like the world had tilted back into place.

“You... wanna walk for a bit?” Logan asked suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Something in his expression must’ve stirred your kindness, because you nodded. “Alright.”

The two of you started down the sidewalk together, the city humming around you. Logan kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, fingers brushing the ring again and again like a talisman.

“So, how long have you been in Chicago?” you asked, glancing over at him.

Logan shrugged. “Not long. Just passing through.”

You gave a small smile. “It’s a good place to get lost in for a while.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Guess so.”

The conversation fell into a comfortable rhythm after that—small talk, nothing too deep. Logan told you bits and pieces about his travels, careful not to reveal too much. He learned that you’d moved to Chicago a couple of years ago, taking the teaching job because it felt right.

“I’ve always liked working with kids,” you said with a soft smile. “There’s something... hopeful about it, you know?”

Logan nodded, though hope had been a foreign concept to him for a long time. But walking beside you now, listening to your voice, he felt something stir in him—a flicker of warmth he thought he’d lost forever.

As the evening deepened and the sky turned a dusky purple, you reached your building again. You stopped on the stoop, turning to face him.

“Thank you for the walk,” you said, your smile gentle. “It was nice.”

Logan nodded, his heart heavy with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. “Yeah. It was.”

For a moment, it felt like time stood still—like the universe had bent just enough to give him this moment with you. And even though you didn’t remember him, didn’t know the history you shared, Logan knew he couldn’t let you slip away again.

“Y/N...” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You tilted your head, waiting.

He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. “Can I see you again?”

Your smile widened, something warm flickering in your eyes. “I’d like that.”

Logan gave a short nod, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Good,” he murmured.

And for the first time in 26 years, Logan allowed himself to believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, he’d found his way back to you.

---

You had taken up Ida’s offer after all, you lived in the same building so it wasn’t like it was out of the way for you.

“Oh, hey! Thought you weren’t gonna come by.”

You shrugged, taking off your shawl, “changed my mind.” You sat down on the couch and told Ida about your walk with Logan, and she listened intently.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed him. He’s been watching the schoolyard for the past few weeks.”

"Wait, what do you mean, ‘he’s been watching the schoolyard for weeks?’” you asked, your brows knitting together as you leaned forward.

Ida waved her hand dismissively but gave you a sly smile. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea. He hasn’t been creepy about it or anything. Just... noticed him hanging around, that’s all. Kind of hard to miss a guy like that, don’t you think?”

You blinked, a sudden flush creeping up your neck. “A guy like what?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” she teased, sitting down across from you. “Tall, rugged... that serious, brooding look. You’re telling me you didn’t notice? He’s practically been glued to the corner across from the schoolhouse for days.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking back to the walk you’d just had with Logan. You hadn’t seen him watching the school, but now that Ida mentioned it... there had been something in his eyes. A familiarity you couldn’t quite place, like he was looking at you but seeing something—or someone—else.

“I didn’t know he was hanging around,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “But... he seems kind. Sad, but kind.”

Ida leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest with a thoughtful hum. “Sad, huh? You picked up on that, too?”

You nodded, feeling a strange tightness in your chest. There had been a weight to Logan’s presence, something unspoken in his voice, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. And then there was the way he looked at you—like he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to.

“You think he’s okay?” you asked quietly.

Ida shrugged, her teasing expression softening. “Who knows? The world’s a tough place. We all got our own burdens to carry. But... maybe he’s looking for something.”

“Looking for what?”

“Maybe someone to share the load,” she replied with a small smile, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe that someone’s you.”

You shook your head, the idea seeming too far-fetched. “I don’t even know him, Ida. I mean, we just talked for the first time today.”

“Hey, stranger things have happened,” Ida said, getting up to grab a pot of tea from the stove. “You felt something, right? That’s not nothing.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I guess. He did say I reminded him of someone he lost.”

Ida paused, setting the teapot down carefully. “Lost, huh? That would explain the sad part. But... why hang around you then? What’s he hoping to find?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. The idea that Logan had been watching you, even unknowingly, made something stir in your chest—a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite name.

Ida handed you a cup of tea, sitting back down beside you. “Well, maybe next time you see him, you can ask.”

You looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Ask him why he’s hanging around the schoolyard?”

Ida laughed softly. “Maybe not that bluntly, but yeah. There’s something about him, Y/N. Might be worth finding out what.”

You sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through you. Maybe Ida was right. Maybe Logan was carrying something heavy, and maybe—just maybe—you could help.

---

The next day, you found yourself more aware of your surroundings as you walked to the schoolhouse. Every sound, every movement seemed sharper. You scanned the street, looking for a familiar figure, but Logan wasn’t there—at least, not that you could see.

The day went on as usual, though you felt a bit distracted, your mind drifting to the walk you’d shared with him. There was something about Logan that pulled at you, a quiet intensity that you couldn’t shake. He was a mystery, and part of you wanted to solve it.

When the school day ended, you lingered outside a little longer than usual, hoping—half-expecting—that he might show up again. The children ran off, their laughter echoing down the street as they disappeared into their homes. You smiled at the sight, but your thoughts were elsewhere.

“Looking for someone?”

You jumped slightly, turning to find Logan standing just a few feet away. He had approached so quietly you hadn’t even heard him.

“Logan,” you said, surprised but not unwelcome. “I didn’t see you.”

He gave a small shrug, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

You smiled softly, your heartbeat slowing as the initial surprise wore off. “It’s alright. Just didn’t expect to see you today.”

Logan shifted his weight, his gaze flicking to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I wanted to see if you’d like to take another walk. If you’re not too tired, that is.”

You hesitated, but only for a second. There was something in his voice—something vulnerable, almost hesitant. And despite not knowing him well, you found yourself wanting to say yes.

“I’d like that,” you said, stepping down from the schoolhouse stoop.

The two of you started walking again, this time in a different direction, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the street. For a while, neither of you spoke. It was a comfortable silence, though, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. Logan walked beside you, his steps steady but deliberate, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Why’ve you been hanging around the school?” you finally asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. “Ida said she noticed you there for a while.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, and he didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. “I wasn’t trying to... I don’t know. I guess I was just... drawn there.”

“Drawn there?” you echoed, glancing up at him.

He nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. “Yeah. Like I said before, you remind me of someone.”

You didn’t press, sensing that whatever it was, it was personal. Instead, you walked in silence for a few more steps before Logan stopped abruptly.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, turning to face you fully. His eyes were intense, but there was something almost apologetic in them. “If I am, just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, you’re not making me uncomfortable.”

Logan studied your face, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he gave a small nod, almost as if he was relieved.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

The conversation shifted after that, lightening as you talked about small things—the city, your students, even the weather. Logan listened more than he spoke, but you could feel him relax bit by bit, the tension in his posture easing as the afternoon wore on.

When you reached your building again, Logan stopped with you on the stoop. There was a moment of hesitation, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked, offering him a small smile.

Logan looked at you for a long beat before nodding. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As you turned to head inside, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Logan was still standing there, watching you with that same look in his eyes—the one that made you feel like you were more than just a stranger to him.

And in that moment, you realized... you didn’t want to be just a stranger to him either.

---

After about a week of Logan walking you home, it became a familiar routine. Each time, you’d stand on the stoop, exchanging a few words before you’d head inside, always with that lingering feeling of something left unsaid. But tonight was different—the air was colder, and the wind was biting, so when you reached your building, you didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not going out in that cold again,” you said firmly, reaching for his arm. He tensed slightly under your touch, but you ignored it, tugging him toward the door. “Ten minutes outside in the cold, you need to warm up before you go.”

Logan didn’t protest, but you could sense his hesitation. He glanced around the dimly lit hallway as you led him up the stairs to your small apartment.

“Don’t worry,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I won’t keep you long. Just until you can feel your fingers again.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, following you inside. Once you were both in, you motioned for him to sit down on the worn couch, tossing your shawl onto a chair as you made your way to the stove to boil some water for tea.

Logan stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the modest space, before finally sitting down. His presence seemed to fill the room, making it feel smaller, more intimate.

“You don’t gotta fuss,” he muttered, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “I’m alright.”

“Humor me,” you replied with a soft smile, setting a kettle on the stove. “Besides, I’ve been dragging you along on these walks. Least I can do is make sure you’re not freezing to death.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back into the couch. His eyes followed your movements, though his expression stayed guarded. He looked... cautious, like he wasn’t sure how to be here with you, in this space. It was strange, this carefulness, coming from a man who seemed so unbreakable.

“Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?” you asked, turning to face him while the water heated up. “We’ve been walking for a week, and I feel like I barely know you.”

Logan’s gaze shifted, and you could tell he was weighing his words. “Not much to tell,” he said after a beat. “Just a guy who’s been around a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “That’s it? No family, no friends? You just... wander?”

He looked down at his hands, his fingers idly tracing the worn fabric of the couch. “Had family once. Friends, too. Lost most of ‘em.”

There was a heaviness in his voice, and you could feel the weight of his words. You didn’t push him, though. Instead, you poured the hot water into two cups, walking over and handing him one.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan took the cup but didn’t drink right away. He stared down into the tea, his expression unreadable. “Life’s hard for everyone,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You sat down beside him, the warmth from the cup seeping into your hands. For a while, the two of you sat in silence, sipping tea and letting the quiet fill the space. There was something about being near him that made you feel calm, like the world slowed down for a little while when he was around.

“Why’d you let me walk with you?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice rougher than before.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know me,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Most people wouldn’t... They’d be scared, or they’d push me away. But you... you let me stay.”

You frowned, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know... I guess I just felt like... I should.” You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious under his intense gaze. “Besides, you’re not exactly a scary guy. Brooding, sure, but not scary.”

A small, barely-there smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not afraid of much, are you?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not really. I mean, what’s the point of being afraid? Life’s hard enough without worrying about things that might not even happen.”

Logan’s smile faded, replaced by that familiar look of sadness. He stared into his cup for a moment, then set it down on the table in front of him. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess you’re right.”

The silence stretched between you again, but this time it felt heavier, like there was something unsaid hanging in the air. You could feel it, pressing down on both of you, but neither of you seemed ready to break it.

Finally, Logan stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. “I should go,” he said, though he didn’t make a move toward the door.

You stood up too, your heart pounding a little harder than usual. “Logan...”

He turned to face you, his eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah?”

You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm again. “You don’t have to carry it all alone,” you said softly.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without saying a word, he nodded once, a silent acknowledgment that you didn’t need to explain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly before turning to leave.

You watched him go, your heart heavy but hopeful. There was something between you—something unspoken, something old—and you weren’t ready to let it go.

Not yet.

---

It had taken a few more days to convince Logan to come back into your apartment. You weren’t sure how you convinced him this time, but you were happy that you did.

Your apartment smelled nice and homey. Before you had left for work, you had put bread in the oven to bake, and now, as you came back home with Logan in tow, it was finished. The warm, inviting scent of freshly baked bread filled the room as you stepped inside. Logan hesitated in the doorway, lingering for a moment before following you in, his expression unreadable but curious.

You busied yourself with the bread, slicing into the crust and offering Logan a piece. He took it, though his attention seemed more focused on you than the food.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking a bite.

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up just from him being here. "I was thinking..." you started, turning to grab a couple of plates from the cupboard. "Maybe we could go into the city tomorrow? It’s market day. There's a lot to see, and it’d be nice to get out of the schoolhouse routine for a bit."

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. "Market, huh?"

"Yeah, you know, just... walk around. Maybe pick up a few things." You looked over at him, half expecting him to decline, but to your surprise, he didn’t.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but without hesitation. "I’ll come with you."

You smiled, feeling a small flutter of excitement in your chest. "Great. It’ll be fun. I promise."

---

The next day, you found yourself walking through the bustling streets of Chicago with Logan by your side. The market was crowded, full of people haggling and chatting, the air thick with the smell of fresh produce, spices, and the occasional whiff of roasting meat. It was a world away from the quiet walks you'd shared, and you could feel Logan's unease in the busy atmosphere. But he stayed close, his hand brushing yours more than once as you wove through the crowd.

"Do you come here often?" Logan asked, his eyes scanning the vendors with mild interest.

"Once or twice a month," you replied. "I like the energy here. Makes the city feel alive, you know?"

Logan grunted in response, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. You could tell he wasn’t used to this—being around so many people—but he stuck close to you, his presence protective without being overbearing.

After a while, you stopped at a stall selling flowers. The colors were vibrant, a burst of life in the middle of the dusty street. You picked up a small bouquet of wildflowers, smiling as you held them up.

"These are my favorite," you said, glancing up at Logan. "They're simple but... I don't know, they make me happy."

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at the flowers in your hand, then back at you. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of something unspoken, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a few coins, handing them to the vendor before you could protest.

"Logan, you don’t have to—"

"Consider it a thank you," he said quietly, cutting you off. "For the bread."

You blinked, surprised but touched by the gesture. "Well, thank you."

He nodded, and the two of you continued walking, the flowers resting in the crook of your arm as the city bustled around you. For a while, you walked in comfortable silence, the sounds of the market fading into the background as the two of you wandered further from the busy streets. Eventually, you found a quiet park at the edge of the city, a small, peaceful space away from the noise.

You sat down on a bench, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. Logan sat beside you, his posture relaxed but his eyes always scanning the area, as if he couldn’t fully let his guard down.

"Do you ever stop looking over your shoulder?" you asked, half teasing but curious.

Logan’s mouth twitched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Old habit."

You studied him for a moment, sensing there was more behind those words. He had a way of holding himself, like he was always ready for something, always waiting. It made you wonder just how much he’d seen, how much he’d lived through.

"I’m glad you came with me today," you said softly, looking out at the park. "I feel like I’ve been stuck in a routine for a while now. It’s nice to just... do something different."

Logan glanced at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "I’m glad I came too," he admitted, his voice low.

There was something in the way he said it, something that made your heart skip a beat. The air between you felt different, charged with a quiet tension that neither of you seemed willing to break. You wondered if he felt it too—the strange pull between you, like something just beneath the surface was waiting to be uncovered.

After a long pause, Logan spoke again. "I ain’t good at... this." He gestured vaguely, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. "Being close to people."

You turned to him, surprised by the admission. "You’re doing fine," you said gently.

Logan’s jaw clenched slightly, and he shook his head. "It’s not that simple."

You felt a pang of something—sympathy, maybe, or understanding. Whatever it was, it made you reach out, your hand lightly brushing his. "You don’t have to explain," you said softly. "I get it."

Logan’s eyes flickered down to where your hand rested near his. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned his hand over, his rough fingers brushing against yours in the faintest of touches. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step—like maybe, just maybe, he was letting you in.

---

As you walked to the tenement building after work one day, you glanced over at Logan. “You ever been to the exhibition hall in the city?”

Logan looked over to you, slightly puzzled by the question. “The exhibition?”

You nodded, turning toward him. “There’s a display of inventions and art from all over. I heard they’ve got this new thing—electric lights. I was thinking about going this weekend, and… maybe you’d like to come with me?”

For a moment, Logan just stared at you, as if unsure what to say. The idea of stepping out into the city, surrounded by people, probably wasn’t something he did often. But he shifted slightly, his eyes softening in that way they did when you caught him off guard.

“You want me to go with you?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” you said, smiling. “We’ve been walking the same few streets for days. Thought it might be nice to do something different. Besides, I’m curious about those lights. They say it’s going to change the way people live.”

Logan gave a low, thoughtful hum, and for a moment, you worried he might decline. But then he nodded slowly, his expression softening further. “Alright. I’ll go.”

Your smile widened. “Great! We can meet at my place on Saturday afternoon, then head out.”

The conversation drifted back into easier topics—your students, a new bakery that had opened nearby, and the way the city seemed to grow busier every day. But beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this small invitation marked a shift, a way to see more of who Logan was beyond the quiet man who walked beside you in silence. Maybe out in the world, you’d understand him better.

---

Saturday came quickly, and the two of you walked side by side through the busy streets, the sounds of horses and carriages filling the air. You led Logan through the bustling avenues toward the exhibition hall, your excitement barely contained.

“Ever seen anything like this?” you asked, glancing up at him as the towering hall came into view.

Logan’s eyes flicked over the building, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not in a while.”

Inside, the hall was a wonder of modern marvels. Booths lined with mechanical inventions, sculptures, and paintings from around the world. The hum of excitement filled the air, and the bright new electric lights cast a strange, almost magical glow over everything.

You wandered the displays together, your curiosity leading the way. Logan stayed close, his attention less on the inventions and more on you. Every now and then, he'd glance at a piece of machinery or a strange-looking contraption, but his eyes kept drifting back to your face, watching the way your expression changed with each new discovery.

"This is incredible," you murmured, leaning in to get a closer look at a large machine labeled as an ‘automatic loom.’ You smiled at Logan, your excitement clear. "Can you imagine how much time this would save?"

Logan nodded, though you could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. "Yeah, I can see how it'd be useful."

You moved to the next display, but Logan lingered for a moment. When he finally caught up, you were already studying a painting—a soft, pastoral scene that contrasted with the industrial energy around you.

"It's beautiful, isn’t it?" you said, glancing at him.

Logan’s gaze flicked to the painting, but quickly returned to you. "Yeah," he said, though it was clear he wasn’t talking about the art.

You felt his eyes on you again and looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something there—something that made your heart skip. Logan had always been protective, always hovering just close enough to shield you if need be. But this felt different, like there was more to it now.

"You sure this ain’t boring for you?" you asked, trying to lighten the moment. "I know you’re not one for crowds."

Logan gave a quiet grunt, his version of a chuckle. "It’s fine. Long as you’re enjoying yourself."

You smiled, touched by the sentiment. "I am. Thanks for coming with me."

For a while, you wandered together in silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the exhibition hall. The crowds around you buzzed with excitement, but the space between you and Logan felt almost separate—like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

At one point, you stopped in front of a display showcasing early electric light bulbs. "Look at that," you said, pointing to the glass bulbs flickering with soft light. "They’re saying these will replace gas lamps soon."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Doesn’t seem right, replacing something that’s worked for so long."

"Change is good sometimes," you said, glancing at him. "It keeps things moving forward."

Logan met your eyes, his expression soft but thoughtful. "Guess I’ve never been good with change."

You tilted your head slightly, sensing the weight behind his words. "Maybe you just haven’t found the right reason to embrace it yet."

For a moment, Logan didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on you, like he was trying to make sense of something. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Maybe."

As the afternoon wore on, the two of you eventually stepped outside the exhibition hall, the sun low in the sky and the city’s evening glow starting to take over. The air felt cooler now, a welcome relief after the warmth of the crowded hall.

You walked beside Logan in comfortable silence, but the charged undercurrent between you hadn’t faded. It felt like something had shifted—like you’d both acknowledged a deeper connection, even if neither of you had fully put it into words yet.

"You want to get something to eat?" Logan asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you said, smiling up at him. "There’s a place not far from here. They make the best stew."

Logan nodded, falling into step beside you again as you made your way toward the small restaurant you had in mind. The quiet between you was easy, but there was an unspoken understanding that something had changed between the two of you today. Neither of you said it out loud, but you didn’t need to.

As you entered the restaurant, the warm scent of food filled the air, and you found a table near the back, away from the main crowd. Logan took the seat across from you, his eyes scanning the room out of habit, but eventually settling back on you.

"This place isn’t so bad," he said, giving a small nod of approval.

You laughed softly. "Glad it meets your standards."

Logan smirked, but there was a softness behind it. As the two of you talked over dinner, you realized just how much you enjoyed moments like this—quiet, simple, yet meaningful. It wasn’t about grand gestures or fancy places; it was about being together, about the way Logan made you feel safe and seen.

---

One day, after inviting Logan into your apartment once again, you set out to make tea like you always do.

You felt a cough building up in your throat, so you grabbed a small handkerchief from the counter and coughed into it. You had seen the school doctor while you were at work, and he said you just had a mild cold.

Logan, who was sitting on the couch, immediately turned his head to you, his heart almost beating out of his chest. He’d heard that cough before—26 years ago.

"Y/N?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You turned around, still holding the handkerchief to your mouth. "Yeah?" you answered casually, noticing the tension in his voice but thinking nothing of it. “Just a little cough, nothing serious. I saw the doctor earlier, and he said it’s just a cold.”

Logan stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He took a step closer, his mind racing back to 1854, to your last days—bedridden and coughing, just like this. He had lost you then, watching helplessly as the illness took you. He couldn't shake the feeling, the memory, and the fear that history might repeat itself.

"Cold, huh?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an edge to it.

"Yeah, no big deal." You smiled, folding the handkerchief and putting it back in your pocket. "Really, Logan, I’m fine."

Logan’s jaw tightened. He had seen too much, lived too long to believe in coincidence. This was too familiar, too painful. And yet, here you were—alive, vibrant. This time, he couldn’t lose you again. He wouldn't.

"You should take it easy," he said, stepping closer, his tone gentler now. "You been workin' too hard at that school."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing his concern but not quite understanding the depth of it. "I’m fine, really. It’s just a little cold. Nothing that rest and tea won’t fix."

Logan didn’t argue, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he gently brushed his fingers against your arm, grounding himself in the fact that you were here, with him. This wasn’t 1854. But the memory haunted him.

You noticed the way he was looking at you, his eyes searching yours like he was afraid to lose you. "Hey," you said softly, resting a hand on his. "What’s really going on?"

Logan’s breath hitched for a moment, and he fought the urge to pull you closer, to tell you everything. But how could he? How could he explain that you’d been here before—that he’d watched you die, that he’d loved you once in another life, in another time? Instead, he just shook his head, the weight of those memories too heavy to share.

"Just... don’t push yourself too hard," he said, his voice quieter now. "I’ve seen people get worse when they don’t take care of themselves."

You nodded, though his intensity still lingered in your mind. "I promise, I’ll rest." You gave him a reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, you’ll make sure I do, right?"

Logan’s lips quirked into the smallest smile, but there was still something distant in his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly. "I will."

The moment hung in the air, the unspoken weight of Logan’s past pressing down on him, though you couldn’t see it. You were the same, and yet not. The woman he had once loved and lost was standing right in front of him, alive, but without any memory of that life you’d shared.

---

You didn’t see Logan for a few days, which was unusual, ever since he started walking with you he had never missed a day.

You couldn’t help but worry a tad bit, it wasn’t like him to just not be there. Even Ida had made a few comments, including now as you sat in her apartment, just a few doors down from your own, sipping tea.

“He hasn’t been by at all?” Ida asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “That man never misses a day. He’s usually lurking outside, waitin’ to walk you home.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s been three days now.”

Ida leaned forward, her hands folded on the table. “You don’t think somethin’s happened to him, do ya? That man is tough, sure, but even the toughest get into trouble sometimes.”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to entertain the thought. “No, I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he just needed some time alone. He’s... not the type to explain himself much.”

Ida hummed, though she didn’t look convinced. “Maybe. But if he doesn’t show up soon, you ought to go find him. He’s a good man, Y/N, and you’ve only known him a month, but it’s clear he cares about you.”

The truth of her words settled over you, heavy and unspoken. You cared about Logan too. Even if you didn’t quite understand the pull between you, it was there—undeniable. And the fact that he hadn’t shown up, without so much as a word, made your chest tighten with worry.

Later that evening, after you’d left Ida’s apartment and returned to your own, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. Logan had become part of your routine, part of your day-to-day life. And now that he was gone, it felt like something was missing.

Just as you were about to turn in for the night, a knock sounded at the door.

Your heart jumped, and you rushed to open it, half expecting—half hoping—it would be Logan.

And there he was.

He stood in the doorway, his coat damp from the light rain outside, his hair slightly tousled. His eyes, though, were what caught you—the familiar intensity, but with something else lurking beneath. Something darker.

“Logan,” you breathed, stepping aside to let him in. “Where have you been? I was starting to get worried.”

Logan stepped into your small apartment, his broad frame somehow filling the space, making it feel even smaller. He didn’t say anything right away, just ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts.

“I needed time,” he finally said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Time for what?” you asked gently, sensing that whatever he was about to say wasn’t easy for him.

Logan glanced at you, then looked away, as if he couldn’t meet your eyes. His jaw tightened, and you could see the struggle on his face—like he was wrestling with something deep inside. After a long pause, he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words sounding foreign in his mouth, like he wasn’t used to saying them.

You blinked, taken aback. Logan was the last person you ever expected to hear those words from. “Scared of what?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you saw the vulnerability there, raw and unguarded. “Of losing you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan… we’ve only known each other for a month,” you said softly, though the words felt strange even as they left your mouth. Because deep down, it felt like you’d known him much longer—like this connection between you was more than just a month in the making.

“I know,” Logan said, his voice rough. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

There was something in the way he was looking at you, something desperate and pained, like he was holding onto you with everything he had. You wanted to ask him why, to understand what had happened in his past to make him feel this way. But instead, you just reached out, your hand finding his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m right here.”

Logan’s breath hitched, and before you could say anything more, he stepped closer, his hand cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, his touch rough but gentle, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet of your apartment, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

And then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was urgent, almost desperate, like he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words. His lips moved against yours with a fierceness that took your breath away, and for a moment, all you could do was hold onto him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as you kissed him back.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, and you wanted to promise him that he wouldn’t—that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere. But something about the way he said it made you hesitate, made you wonder what he wasn’t telling you.

“Logan…” you started, your voice soft. “What aren’t you telling me?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. His hand dropped from your face, and he took a step back, his expression guarded once again. The walls he’d let down just moments ago seemed to be rising back up.

“I’ve lived a long time,” he said finally, his voice low. “I’ve lost people before. People I cared about. I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, but there was something else there too—something unspoken. “Logan… who did you lose?”

His eyes flickered with pain, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he just shook his head, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You wanted to press him, to understand, but you also knew that Logan wasn’t someone who opened up easily. So instead, you just stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug. He stiffened at first, but then his arms slowly came around you, pulling you close as if he was afraid to let go.

“I’m here,” you whispered against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For now, that was all you could offer him. And for now, it seemed to be enough.

---

You and Ida sat in the back of the rattling carriage, bundled against the cold, the wheels creaking beneath the weight of your bags from the market. The late afternoon sky was heavy with clouds, promising rain before nightfall and a storm by morning.

“Supposed to come down hard tomorrow,” Ida said, clutching her shawl tighter. “Glad we got everything done now. Don’t wanna be caught in that mess.”

You smiled, shifting a bag of potatoes off your lap. “It’ll be nice to have an excuse to stay in and rest. Logan’s been after me about taking it easy anyway.”

Ida gave you a knowing look, her brow lifting. “That man likes you, Y/N. More than you think.”

You shrugged, though your cheeks warmed slightly. “I know he cares. He’s just… different. Keeps to himself.”

“He’s different, alright,” Ida muttered, peering out the carriage window. “But he’s not the type to care about someone without good reason. Don’t let that one get away.”

You didn’t respond, but your thoughts drifted to Logan—how he had kissed you that night, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. There was something ancient in his touch, like he had carried the weight of loss for far too long. You didn’t fully understand it, but you felt it—something deeper than words or time.

The carriage jolted suddenly, jerking you forward in your seat. The horse up front whinnied, wild and panicked.

“Whoa!” the driver shouted, yanking hard on the reins.

You clutched Ida’s arm, your heart racing. “What’s going on?”

The driver cursed, standing in his seat to get a better look. “The damn harness snapped! The horse—”

Before he could finish, the horse bolted, the broken leather straps slapping wildly behind it. The carriage lurched, and you and Ida were thrown sideways. The wheels screamed as they spun out of control, the driver shouting as he fought to keep it steady.

“Hold on!” he yelled.

The world tilted violently as the carriage careened off the road, slamming into a ditch. Bags spilled across the floor, and you hit your shoulder hard against the side wall. Ida’s scream filled your ears, but the noise was drowned out by the thunder of the collapsing carriage, wood splintering and wheels buckling beneath the weight.

And then—nothing.

The carriage stopped, shuddering to a halt in a twisted heap at the bottom of the ditch. The rain started, light at first, pattering against the wreckage.

---

Logan was walking back toward your tenement building, the collar of his coat turned up against the cold drizzle, when he saw it—just beyond the next block, down by the road.

The sight hit him like a punch to the chest.

A carriage, overturned, one of the wheels still spinning lazily. The horse was gone, its reins dangling uselessly from the harness. People were gathering, but no one dared approach the wreckage yet.

Logan’s heart stopped. He knew—he just knew.

His feet moved before he could think. He sprinted toward the wreck, rain falling harder now, soaking through his clothes. His boots hit the muddy road with heavy thuds, splashing water as he ran faster than any ordinary man should.

By the time he reached the scene, a bystander had climbed down, trying to pry the splintered door open. Logan shoved him aside without a word, claws itching under his skin, ready to tear the door off if need be.

“Someone’s inside!” the man stammered. “Two women—”

Logan didn’t wait. His hands found the edge of the door, and with a growl of effort, he yanked it off the hinges. Inside the crumpled interior, he saw you, half-buried beneath scattered bags.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, raw and frantic. He dropped to his knees and pulled you free, cradling you in his arms.

You stirred, barely conscious, your head lolling against his chest. Blood streaked your temple, and your breath came in shallow gasps.

“Logan…?” you whispered, confused, your hand weakly grasping his coat.

“I got you,” Logan said, his voice breaking. “I’m here. You’re gonna be fine.” But even as he said it, dread gnawed at him—this wasn’t fine. It was happening again.

Ida groaned nearby, struggling to sit up, but Logan’s focus was locked on you. He pressed a hand against your side, where your ribs felt wrong under his touch. He could feel the heat of your blood seeping into his fingers.

“No, no, no…” Logan whispered, shaking his head. The storm raged around him, but all he could hear was the shallow rasp of your breathing.

You looked up at him, your gaze unfocused, but your lips curled into the faintest smile. “I told you… I’d rest…”

“Don’t,” Logan begged, his forehead pressing against yours. “Don’t do this. Stay with me. You hear me? Stay.”

You blinked slowly, your hand slipping from his coat. “I… tried…”

Logan clenched his jaw, biting down hard against the scream building in his chest. His healing mutation would keep him alive through anything—but it couldn’t save you. Not now. Not again.

He kissed your forehead, his breath shuddering. “I can’t lose you again, darlin’. Not like this…”

Your breath hitched once, then stopped.

“No,” Logan whispered, rocking you in his arms. “No, no, no…”

His hands trembled as he pulled you closer, your lifeless body limp against him. The rain poured down harder, drumming on the wreckage, but Logan didn’t care. He sat there, holding you, feeling the familiar, soul-crushing emptiness settle in his chest like an old wound tearing open again.

And still, he held you. Because this time, just like 26 years ago, he couldn’t let go.

in this chapter logan is 48 years old and reader is around 22-24 years old. just a reminder that going forward there is going to be an age gap between the two since logan obviously keeps getting older.

[theallyandhisbeast]

About bucktommy and 911 in general

You know, in the end, this just feels extremely cheap and cruel.

Showing bucktommy be incandescently happy in all the episodes but 8.6? Even in this ep you can feel how much they care and genuinely love each other. Audience was largely optimistic and excited about them, in a way we have never seen for other buck's LI.

Only to what? Throw it all away because you can't be bothered to write a satisfactory arc for them? Because Buck is the epitome of the guy who dates a lot but always gets broken up with? That to be able to decide if you want to be in a committed relationship if you are bi you have to explore first or else your decision is null and void?

What a way to waste potential and your characters arc.

The special thing about Tommy was that he was beloved by not only bucktommy fans, but GA, and most importantly he was a sort of representation we don't see all that much in media. People loved him because they saw themselves in him, they could connect to his journey and they were genuinely rooting for him to find love and family with Buck. To waste it all away, and to do so by basically throw at us all that we loved about them is unnecessarily cruel.

What hurts the most is that even buck and tommy themselves didn't want to break up. but instead they "must" because bowing down to harmful stereotypes about bi people who are "confused and so they must experiment before settling" is more important than telling a compelling story.

Even without bt break up, I feel like this season took a sharp dive for the worst about well thought storylines in a way that baffles him. Gerrard was reduced to a joke, as was Ortiz, both pgs that could have been used to create compelling arcs that intertwined the 118 even more but instead we got this cheap throwaway joke of a Gerrard, Ortiz was basically throw out of office in a single ep. Hotshot sl could have been fun but instead it's just.... there. And coming back too just for funsies, cause apparently that sl was more important to develop instead of a interesting queer relationship.

Athena once again doing copaganda. Bobby coming back to the 118 without any particular struggle or even guilt about dropping the bag. Things said in interviews that we expect to happen and never even made it to the screen (Eddie's loneliness? Chim and Hen having conflict over Mara? Buck feeling guilty about injuring Gerrard?).

The way Maddie cannot have any sl that is not either tied to a man or about motherhood. Madney having another surprise baby instead of them choosing on purpose to expand their family. Hen & Karen gaining trauma after trauma about their children and not having any other sl that is not tied to that. Josh just existing in the periphery and only becoming important as the "insightful token gay" but not having any type of meaningful screen time since Carson.

The other side characters like Sue, Ravi, Linda, Carla completely disappearing without anyone mentioning them. Ravi has not been given any important sl ever since he talked about having cancer and ever since reduced as a comic relief without anything to add to his character but he's a "landlord".

Chris is out of the picture for who knows how long, and is basically kept around to be traumatized over and over again. Eddie hasn't gotten any character development until first s5 and seemingly now, but i'd argue that the whole thing just felt rushed because what do you mean it takes one chat with a priest for him to do a 180° while he still isn't talking to Chris? And Eddie was the one who got the best treatment of all of them this season.

It's the way this show is slowly chipping itself away. It's the way they start a queer story line promising it would be impactful and handled with care and then half-assing it a best. It's the way the other queer characters are never explored and able to breath and revel in their queerness in the first place. Because, really, when was the last time Hen and Karen kissed on screen? When was the last time they went on a date? When was the last time their arcs were not about children or getting hurt, but just about them as individuals? And on this thread what about Maddie? Or Josh? Or Chim? Or Eddie?

Everything feels reused again and again and again without no real development than then starting the circle all over in half a season.

What a waste.

[sarahreesbrennan]

I remember reading in one of your blog entries (years ago??) that in the new book you were writing, the main character's *sister* had cancer. Does that mean that Alice was originally the main character of Long Live Evil? Was she going to go into the book to save Rae, instead of Rae going in to save herself?

How extremely kind of you to remember!

No, that was actually a YA murder mystery that I wrote while ill, revised while recovering, and sent out into the world where it died on submission. (Which means we sent it out to about 12 editors and the editor either said no, or said yes and took it to acquisitions - a group of people at the publisher including sales and marketing - and acquisitions said no.)

One editor told me she really wanted and really tried to buy it. Another person who worked in publishing (and has since changed jobs, or I wouldn’t share this) said the response at her acquisitions was - if you like this writer, find the next her (implications about health and youth were made).

I was terrified my agent was going to ditch me too, but she said ‘We’ll sell that one day, for now let’s write the next thing.’

I remember another writer telling me she missed my work that wasn’t a tie-in, and I felt ashamed to tell her it wasn’t that I wasn’t writing other things - it was that I couldn’t publish them.

The tie-ins meanwhile were paying the bills (they still are tbh!) and I was and remain so grateful for them. But I also really loved writing them - especially my Sabrina tie-ins, you don’t forget the first, and it reminded me I want to write horror and poly one day - and how they got me to love and sympathise with so many fandoms.

I see the burnout of caregivers all around me, and I wanted to write the story of one. But maybe I also wanted to take a step back from cancer. I didn’t think I did, at the time. I had a whole lot of things I tried writing before Long Live Evil, and I think some of them were really good. One of my critique partners gave me a lipstick with the same name as someone in the murder mystery. There was a romance novel another critique partner said was her favourite thing I’d ever written. But none had someone with cancer at the heart of the story.

And even though Rae isn’t much like me, maybe I had to start there. You can’t make real magic using someone else’s liver. Maybe I had to wait to be brave enough to use my own liver.

I do get requests for advice on how to cope with rejection of your writing, and I always worried I didn’t have anything else to say, but I suppose my example says - if you can, (and I know it’s hard, you feel so terrible at writing and so useless) (and you love the work you’ve done so much and you don’t see a way forward to loving the next thing) (but still, if you possibly can) write the next thing.

Even if the first thing sells, you’ll want the next thing one day. Writing the next thing is more writing practise, so it’ll make you better. Write the next thing.

Ultimately I’m really glad Long Live Evil was my comeback book. I think it needed to be. It took the time it took.

But maybe it was a shade of that past book (where the heroine’s sister with cancer was six, so not much like any of the Time of Iron characters) that made me think of the YA version of this book, which I always had in my mind as something I was intentionally hewing away from - a more straightforward book, a book that might have sold better - in which shy reader Alice was the hero. She’s the one with the suggestive hero name - Alice through the looking glass - the heroine looks, and the more projectable-upon personality. She’d get called annoying less often (though still some, because she’s a girl), partly because she is (with love, Rae knows I’m right) a genuinely less annoying person. Much kinder, much sweeter, and much better at in-depth reading! Her sister being in trouble would’ve been a backstory, a catalyst point, and - you’re totally right - a great motivation for her to get the Flower. Saving a family member is a much more sympathetic and heroic motivation than saving yourself and one I do love (the Hunger Games, Labyrinth, Mahy’s the Changeover, and I write it a lot!). I think Snarky While Tragically Dying Rae would’ve been a pretty popular side character, too. I think it would’ve been a good book! Just not mine.

I love your question because I love thinking about POV, and all the decisions that are the building blocks of a story. To me, the Alice centric Time of Iron is a version that exists. As are several versions of the Lia centric Time of Iron. And versions centring other characters exist to me, too. (Eric, absolutely.)

Speaking of POV musing, I think Rahela the wicked stepsister featured more in the musical than the book. If the Time of Iron series ever became a TV show (and at this point in time I think I’d rather a movie because it wouldn’t… get cancelled…) and I got to write it (don’t know why I would…) I would start with the beginnings for three characters about to go on a journey to somewhere strange to them: Key in the Cauldron, Rae in the hospital, and Vasilisa in the icelands. There are so many possibilities! And I really wanted the sense that there were so many possibilities, too.

But I wanted the chronically ill one to be the centre of the story, and for it to be her villain origin story, and to ask a lot of questions (hence a lot of villains!) about who gets villainised and why. And I thought hers, to my mind, would be the most fun of all the possible stories.

So that’s the one I made. But Long Live Evil has a lot of origins. Thank you for remembering one of them! I don’t think I would’ve dared tell the story, if things hadn’t worked out for me (so far, fingers crossed).

And I also tell it to be clear my publisher was taking a RISK with me and Long Live Evil, and I really appreciate that, and I’m so happy it’s worked out for them (again so far, early days, fingers crossed, etc).

I hope some writers - whether in the process of submission, rejection or making the choices that are the building blocks of story - find this helpful, and some readers find it interesting.

Let this be one of the universes in which your story is told.

[baphometsss]

On Solas's romantic history

Okay. I know what the consensus is. That he’s way too smooth in Inquisition to be inexperienced but... (and I’m fully prepared to get shat on for this lmao don’t kill me)

When he kisses Lavellan, that doesn’t read to me like he’s super suave and seductive. It reads more like—endeared by them trying to run away after kissing him, then being so surprised by how good the kiss felt, that he grabs Lavellan, kisses them again, pulls back with a surprised look on his face, and then goes in for more. It’s touch-starved, desperate, hungry. It’s not really all that smooth because he’s literally bending them over backwards lmao like Solas can you chill maybe

He is very smooth when flirting with Lavellan, but he's also an absolute gobshite who's spent thousands of years sassing the hell out of wannabe gods so that's not a surprise. He's witty af and enjoys some back and forth.

Solas is a very lonely man. He keeps everyone at arm’s length because he’s seen what getting close to people can do to him. His biggest fear is dying alone, and he almost gives into that because it’s what he believes he deserves for all he’s done. His life has been so stressful for so long that he's almost totally unable to consider anything else but his battles. He even says explicitly that he's tired.

That doesn’t make me think of someone who was out there in Ancient Elvhenan sleeping around all those years. No doubt he considered it, but he likely didn't pursue much with anyone physical; he enjoyed spending as much time as possible in the Fade. (The banter with Blackwall doesn't count to me personally since Solas himself thinks the whole idea is preposterous, which speaks for itself really.) Especially after being a slave/servant to Mythal seems to have voided him of his agency for some time. Then he led a rebellion and fought for thousands of years against brutal tyrants. Any one of the people he was close to could’ve been trying to kill him. Lavellan, however, has no reason to do so, so he can flirt with them freely. In all that time, it seems as though the only people he allowed to get close to the real him were Felassan and Mythal. I don’t think he slept with either, because the relationship was familial. Felassan was also loyal to Mythal, but didn’t burn his vallaslin off. (Is this a right hand/left hand of the Divine parallel again? Two brothers and their mother? Idk, I need to think about that one). For creatures with bodies made from the blood of Titans, they don’t have blood families. They would’ve had to forge their own, which is what Solas did with Mythal and Felassan.

And then there’s his ‘it has been a long time’. Most have taken this to mean that it’s been a long time since he’s been intimate with someone, but given what we know now and that he spent thousands of years in the Fade while his body was in uthenera… I wonder if he’s actually saying-- ‘it has been a long time since I lived in a body’-- ie. ‘it has been a long time since I felt physical drives, a long time since I have felt so physically real’. To me, this makes a lot more sense than the ‘he’s thousands of years old he can’t possibly be a virgin/inexperienced’ take bc like... My friends. It probably didn’t feel like thousands of years to him bc he’s essentially always existed. Time is different for spirits. It’s not like he’s gonna go: ‘well I’m nearly 4000y/o, better lose my v-card’. Time is no object when you are a timeless being. Then, given the path his life took, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense for him to be that experienced given how hard it is for him to trust.

I also personally headcanon him as heavily demisexual/demiromantic too. His true nature is so non-physical that the idea of him being very promiscuous or something just doesn’t fit his character. He needs a mental connection, to feel something, before sharing much of himself, or allowing himself the vulnerability intimacy brings, something he clearly feels with Lavellan based on how shaken up by it he is.

And it’s also canon that Solas has never been in love before meeting Lavellan. So. If he went however many millennia without falling in love, it’s also possible he went without intimacy for a long time too.

To be clear I’m not trying to say that this is the correct conclusion. My opinion has just changed a little since Veilguard (I used to think he was being smooth etc bc he's old af/v experienced, but with confirmation of former spirit Solas it’s changed my perspective somewhat)

Also:

‘Things have always been easier for me in the Fade’

‘I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams’ my man is shooketh guys SHOOKETH

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 047 - Sung Jinwoo Assassin Au Part 2 ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[tw: gore, extreme violence, sadistic Jinwoo]‼️

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 1 || Part 2♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Behold, The Emperor of the Dark Hours Returns] ¡! ❞

His name is like a prayer to the devil, a single whisper of his title and everyone would pale upon the mention.

He was the faceless monster of the underground, the lord who rules in the shadows.

Stand in his way and you are guaranteed a spot six feet under.

It's mercy if your death is but a single bullet to your head. Jinwoo's sadism is, after all, ruthless. Corpses of his victims were usually mangled or their heads bashed to the point of unrecognition.

A skull crushed into smithereens, brain juices oozing out of the deformed head— Sung Jinwoo was ruthless beyond human sense.

The Association doesn't know who this little serial killer is running ammock. Even their efforts to work with the police isn't working.

In the end, they had no choice to give up.

While Jinwoo? Jinwoo himself is having a field day on his end.

How long has it been since his blood had been pumping? He can't really recall himself.

Murdering monsters seemed to make him feel alive again, as debauched as it is— He honestly loved it.

He still accepts some assassination jobs on the side, but mostly he's just going into gates.

Jinwoo had long mastered the system, he's maybe an S-ranker now for the first few months he had gotten into this world.

Since he's just an E-ranked, he had lots of restraints on him. But did it matter? No.

Being able to face beings twice, thrice, quadruple of his size— It caused a thrill in his body that he cant really describe.

It's addictive, the rush of adrenaline into his blood felt gratifying.

Jinwoo knew it himself that he is a monster, but can he do anything about it? He's over 80 now atleast, all his life he's been fighting and killing.

The art of war is his true calling, as twisted that is— It's true.

But unlike then he now has his family. His mother may be in deep sleep but he also has his adorable baby sister that he missed dearly.

And now that he has them back Jinwoo isn't one bit hesitant to protect his lifelines.

But now it seems that a little bastard has decided to ogle over his precious little sister.

Jinwoo is no fool when it comes to people stalking around him and his home. It's one of the most important things he needed to hone in order to be an effective assassin.

So when he knew something up, he isn't going to let it slide any second further.

{....}

Crawling into the alleyway, the man heard that if he finds a certain door he can get into the apartment building. He already knew Jinah's apartment number.

He just wanted to say hi, nothing else.

Just a simple hello, he only wants to say hello. That's all there is to it really.

As he fumbled around on the doorknob next to the trash bins— He suddenly feels something yank his hair back.

He curses, groaning as the back of his head hits the wall.

"You motherfucker" He snarls, his eyes glaring up at the sight of a hooded figure lighting a cigarette. "You son of a bit— Ack!"

"Did I tell you to talk? Can't you see I'm lighting my cigarette?" Jinwoo asks, pressing his heel on the bastard's shoulder.

"What the hell did I even do to you, huh? You fucking jackass?" The man curses, attempting to move away but failed as Jinwoo remained unmoving while blowing out a coud of smoke.

"I've seen a lot of fuckers like you in my youth" He says boredly, "Of the thousand of heads I've embedded a bullet on, 80% of the targets are sick perverts ogling over things they shouldn't be drooling over."

He continues, playing a dagger with his hand before promptly stabbing it on the man's thigh. Jinwoo covers his mouth with his gloved palm to muffle the cry, unamused as he started started sweating and sobbing.

"Should've known that perverts like you still exist even here, I guess I became too happy go lucky huh?" Jinwoo scoffs, as he pulls his fist back. "Don't worry, I'll make sure my kids gobble your corpse up the moment I'm done with you.

{....}

"Oppa, welcome home!" Jinah beams as she sees her brother come in late while she was snacking on a shortcake her brother bought yesterday. "You out late again, were you seeing a girl?"

At her teasing, Jinwoo only shakes his head and smiles, he approaches his little sister and ruffles her hair up— Causing a whine to come out of her lips.

"No, just went out for a walk," He says gently as if he didn't pummel someone to death just minutes earlier and fed his corpse to his shadows. "Don't stay up too late, you have school tomorrow."

"I'm not a little kid!" Jinah playfully swats his hand away and stomps to her bedroom with his shortcake before stopping midway. "Oppa? Can you get more shortcakes tomorrow, please?"

"Pfft," Jinwoo shakes his head, smiling as he did so. "Alright, off you go"

He watches his baby sister's eyes glimmer sweetly before hiding back into her room.

Jinwoo's heart felt... Tingly. In a gentle and sweet way. The feeling of having someone greet him when he arrives home, the feeling where he knows someone is waiting for him to come back— It felt nice.

He'll protect this peace.

Until he can figure out a way to wake his mother up.

Jinwoo will continue to protect this home, and even after she wakes up— He'll make sure this home of his will be safe and sound.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: I just want this out of my hands please, I'm sorry that the plot is sloppy and rushed fjsglm,rlwef. I just genuinely want this out of my hands. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[novaursa]

Where Wolves Wander (2/2)

- Summary: You and Jon were always close, but as the years went by and those feelings grew, your mother decided to put an end to it. 

- Paring: stark!reader/Jon Snow

-Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1/2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The chill of Castle Black bit through the thick layers of black wool and leather as Jon and Sam sat by a small fire, their breath frosting in the cold air despite the flickering warmth. The other recruits had long since turned in for the night, leaving the two friends alone under the watchful gaze of the Wall. A quiet, easy camaraderie had grown between them, one that had become a rare comfort in the harsh environment of the Night’s Watch.

Sam looked over at Jon, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “What was it like… you know, before all this?” he asked, gesturing around to the cold, stony expanse of Castle Black. “Living in Winterfell, with your family?”

Jon glanced at Sam, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he poked at the fire. “Winterfell… It was different from here,” he began softly. “Warmer, in a way. Even with all the cold stone, it felt… alive. My brothers, sisters… they made it feel like home.”

Sam nodded, leaning forward, clearly fascinated. “You talk about it like it was something out of a story,” he murmured. “It sounds… wonderful.”

Jon let out a quiet chuckle. “It had its moments. Robb, Sansa, Arya… they were all different, each of them with their own ways of making life interesting. And then there was…” He trailed off, hesitating.

Sam’s gaze sharpened, noticing the sudden softness in Jon’s voice. “And then there was…?”

Jon looked away, a brief smile crossing his face before he spoke again. “Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something warmer than nostalgia. “Robb’s twin. My… sister.”

Sam’s interest piqued immediately, and he leaned in, hanging on every word. “I didn’t know Robb had a twin. What was she like?”

Jon took a slow breath, letting his thoughts drift back to Winterfell. “She… she’s everything the North is. Strong, fierce, stubborn, but kind and loyal too. She’s one of the few who could see past what I am, you know? She never treated me like… a reminder of my birth.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “What you are? But you’re a Stark, aren’t you? I mean… you were raised with them.”

Jon’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “Raised with them, yes, but I was always reminded that I wasn’t… truly one of them. I don’t carry the Stark name, nor the claim to anything but what I was given.” He paused, his gaze softening. “But Y/N never saw me like that. She just saw… me.”

Sam’s eyes gleamed with empathy, his expression thoughtful. “That must have been… wonderful,” he said quietly. “Having someone who saw you for who you really are, rather than what people think you are.”

Jon nodded, a hint of a bittersweet smile on his face. “Aye, it was.” He glanced down, poking at the fire again, but Sam’s curiosity hadn’t been fully sated.

“Did she know… that you were planning to join the Night’s Watch?” Sam asked hesitantly, clearly worried he might be treading into sensitive territory.

Jon let out a breath, his gaze distant. “She found out, yes. Before I left. We had a moment to talk, just the two of us. She… tried to convince me to stay.” He paused, his voice growing quieter. “I think… part of her understood why I had to go, but… I know it hurt her.”

Sam was silent for a moment, taking in Jon’s words. He looked at Jon with a kind, understanding gaze. “And did it hurt you, too? Leaving her?”

Jon didn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening. The memories flooded back, memories of quiet talks in the Godswood, her laughter filling the air, the way her hand had lingered on his arm that last day as if holding on to him just a little longer. “More than I thought it would,” he admitted, voice barely more than a whisper. “More than anything.”

Sam offered a sympathetic nod, his eyes filled with a sadness that only a friend could share. “It’s hard, isn’t it?” he murmured. “Leaving behind the people who make you feel like you… belong. And now, here we are… in a place that feels like it could swallow us whole.”

Jon met Sam’s gaze, a small, sad smile on his lips. “Aye. But I suppose that’s why we’re here together.” He glanced back at the fire, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold emptiness he felt when he thought of Winterfell, and of you.

Sam, sensing the weight of Jon’s silence, ventured softly, “Maybe, one day… you’ll see her again.”

Jon’s smile faded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and resignation. “Maybe,” he replied, though his voice held a sadness that told Sam he didn’t quite believe it. But in the quiet company of his friend, the ache of your absence was a little easier to bear, and for now, that was enough.

The air beyond the Wall was colder than anything Jon had ever felt in Winterfell—a harsh, biting chill that seeped through the layers of fur and leather, numbing skin and bone alike. He trudged through the snow alongside his brothers in black, each breath clouding the air with mist, every crunch of their boots echoing eerily in the silent wilderness. Jeor Mormont led them, his broad back a dark silhouette against the endless white. Jon kept a steady pace, his eyes scanning the treeline, ever vigilant, knowing the danger that lurked in the unknown beyond.

Sam walked beside him, his teeth chattering as he pulled his cloak tighter around his body. “W-w-why did it have to be so c-c-cold?” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the crunch of snow beneath their feet.

Eddison Tollett, known as Dolorous Edd for good reason, let out a grim chuckle. “Ah, cheer up, Sam. It could be worse.”

“How could it possibly be worse?” Sam asked, his expression a mix of incredulity and misery.

“We could be dead,” Edd replied with a deadpan expression. “Then we wouldn’t feel the cold at all.”

Grenn snorted from behind them, shaking his head. “Leave it to Edd to find the bright side of freezing to death.”

Their banter was interrupted by a sudden rustling from the forest ahead, a swift, urgent sound that made Jon’s heart leap into his throat. A shape emerged from the snow-dusted trees—white, sleek, and silent. Ghost.

“Ghost,” Jon breathed, his voice tinged with relief and confusion. “What are you doing here, boy?”

Ghost bounded forward, his red eyes sharp and alert, his movements graceful and purposeful. But it was what followed that made Jon’s blood run cold—a second wolf, darker in color, moving with a quiet ferocity. Shadow.

The familiar amber eyes of your direwolf locked with Jon’s, and his heart twisted painfully in his chest. Shadow’s presence here, beyond the Wall, meant one thing: you were nearby, or something had gone horribly wrong.

“What the bloody hell?” Grenn murmured, stepping back in surprise as the black wolf padded closer, its coat blending into the shadowed treeline. “Is that…?”

“Aye,” Jon said, his voice strained, his gaze fixed on Shadow. “That’s Y/N’s wolf.”

The others looked at Jon with a mix of confusion and concern, their breath puffing out in short, quick clouds. Pypar, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up. “What’s her wolf doing here, Jon? I thought she was back at Winterfell.”

“So did I,” Jon muttered, his mind racing with possibilities, each one worse than the last. He knelt down, extending a hand toward Shadow, who hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, sniffing his hand cautiously. The wolf's fur was cold and wet, matted with bits of snow, as if it had traveled a great distance.

Sam looked at Jon, his face pale. “Do you think… do you think something’s happened to her?” he asked in a hushed voice, clearly terrified of the answer.

“I don’t know,” Jon replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it can’t be good. She wouldn’t have sent Shadow all the way out here without a reason.”

“Gods,” Edd muttered, his usual dark humor absent for once. “If she’s come all the way past the Wall… what could have driven her out here?”

“Quiet,” Jeor Mormont’s voice cut through the murmurs like a blade. He approached, his gaze sharp as he surveyed the wolves, then looked at Jon, his expression unreadable. “That’s your sister’s direwolf, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Lord Commander,” Jon confirmed, standing up to face him. “Her name is Shadow. I don’t know why she’s here.”

Mormont’s eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting between Ghost and Shadow. “A lone wolf crossing the Wall? It’s a strange thing. Wolves don’t stray this far north without reason.”

“What do we do, Lord Commander?” Grenn asked, looking uneasily at the dark trees surrounding them.

“We keep moving,” Mormont said gruffly. “Whatever brought that wolf here, we’re not turning back. But keep your eyes open. If there’s a message in this, I’d wager we’ll find out soon enough.”

Jon nodded, but his mind raced with questions. Was it possible that you were out here somewhere, wandering the same frozen wilderness? Or had something happened back at Winterfell that sent Shadow running, searching for him? The thought twisted in his gut like a knife.

Ghost brushed against his leg, nudging him gently, and Jon rested a hand on his wolf’s head, drawing comfort from the familiar warmth. Shadow circled around him, her amber eyes flicking up to meet his, as if she were silently urging him to understand something—something important.

“What do you think it means, Jon?” Sam whispered, shivering as he glanced back at the wolves. “Why would she come here?”

“I don’t know,” Jon admitted, his voice rough with worry. “But if Shadow’s here, then Y/N could be closer than we think. Or…” He didn’t finish the thought, unable to voice the darker possibilities that loomed in his mind.

The silence stretched between them as they continued their march, the wolves keeping close to Jon’s side, their presence a constant reminder of the uncertainty that lay ahead. Every step felt heavier, the weight of unspoken fears pressing down on him like the unrelenting cold.

As the night deepened, the world seemed to close in, the darkness swallowing the edges of the wilderness. Jon’s thoughts drifted back to you, to your last conversation in the Godswood, the way your hand had lingered on his, your eyes filled with unshed tears. He couldn’t shake the image of your face, the way you had looked at him as if he were the only thing that mattered.

“What if she’s out here, Jon?” Sam asked softly, his voice trembling with worry. “What if she came looking for you?”

Jon’s heart clenched at the thought, a mixture of hope and fear churning in his gut. “Then I’ll find her,” he said, his voice hardening with resolve. “No matter what it takes.”

The wolves padded silently beside him, their breath fogging the air, and in the darkness, Jon felt the flicker of something stronger than fear—a connection, a bond that reached across miles of frozen land. Whatever brought Shadow here, he knew it wasn’t a coincidence. And somehow, deep down, he felt that you were closer than he dared to hope.

“We’ll see what tomorrow brings,” Mormont muttered, breaking the silence as he led the group onward. “Keep your eyes open, lads. This land doesn’t give second chances.”

Jon nodded, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword as they pressed on into the night, the wolves shadowing their every step like sentinels. The cold crept deeper into his bones, but for the first time since he’d left Winterfell, Jon felt a flicker of warmth—a spark of hope, fragile and fierce, guiding him through the darkness.

The cold bite of dawn broke through the dense trees as the Night’s Watch continued their march, the silence of the wilderness giving way to the faintest hints of movement and hushed voices. Jon’s senses sharpened as he caught sight of thin trails of smoke rising just beyond a ridge. He stopped, raising a hand, signaling the others.

“Wildlings,” Jeor Mormont murmured, his eyes narrowing. He motioned for the men to take cover along the rocks and trees, gesturing for silence. The brothers of the Night’s Watch huddled low, moving with practiced caution, their breaths quiet and controlled.

Jon crouched beside Sam, who looked stiff but determined, his gaze focused on the direction of the smoke. Ghost and Shadow were by Jon’s side, their eyes locked ahead, their bodies taut and ready. The camp came into view as they crept closer—a scattering of rough tents made of hide and fur, with Wildlings huddled around fires, muttering in low voices.

And then Jon’s heart stopped.

At the edge of the camp, tied to a wooden post, slumped a figure with a familiar face, your face, pale and drawn, your wrists bound and bloodied. You looked worn, your hair tangled, your clothes torn and dirt-streaked. Shadow, sensing you, gave a low growl, her amber eyes narrowing as she bared her teeth, but Jon quickly reached out, calming her with a gentle touch.

“Y/N,” he whispered, barely able to breathe as he took in the sight of you, alive but clearly worse for wear. Every muscle in his body tensed, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.

“Is that…?” Sam’s voice was a hushed whisper, his eyes wide as he looked from you to Jon, realization dawning in his gaze.

Jon nodded, his jaw clenched. “It’s her,” he said quietly, his voice hard with barely restrained fury. “We have to get her out of there.”

Jeor Mormont moved up beside Jon, observing the scene with a calculating gaze. “We don’t have the numbers for a direct assault,” he murmured. “But if we’re careful, we might be able to pull her out quietly.”

Jon’s mind raced, assessing the camp’s layout, noting the positions of the Wildlings scattered around the fires. He could see that most of them were still groggy, barely awake, their attention focused on warming their hands and preparing for the morning. He had a chance—if he could just get close enough to cut you free.

“I’ll go,” Jon said firmly, looking Mormont in the eye. “I know her. She trusts me. I can do this.”

Mormont hesitated, studying Jon for a long moment. Then he nodded, his expression hard. “Be quick and silent. We’ll cover you if anything goes wrong.”

Jon nodded in gratitude, feeling a rush of determination wash over him. He turned to Sam, who looked at him with a mixture of fear and encouragement. “Be careful, Jon,” Sam whispered.

Without another word, Jon slipped forward, Ghost and Shadow moving silently alongside him, their eyes fixed on you. He crept from shadow to shadow, his body low and silent, his heart pounding as he drew closer. Finally, he reached the edge of the camp, crouching behind a cluster of rocks a mere few feet from where you were tied.

He could see the faint rise and fall of your chest, the exhaustion in the way your head slumped forward. His heart ached at the sight of you, at the bruises that marked your skin, the blood that dried at your wrists. Swallowing hard, he moved closer, careful not to make a sound, until he was right beside you.

“Y/N,” he whispered urgently, reaching out to touch your shoulder. “It’s me.”

You flinched at the sound, your eyes fluttering open, hazy with exhaustion and pain. But as you focused on his face, a spark of recognition lit in your gaze, and relief flooded your expression. “Jon,” you breathed, your voice weak but filled with hope.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m getting you out of here.”

A faint smile touched your lips, but worry darkened your gaze. “Jon, they… they took me by surprise. I tried to get away, but…” You shook your head, wincing. “There’s too many of them. You have to be careful.”

Jon nodded, his jaw set with determination. “We’ll get you out,” he assured you. He quickly drew his dagger, positioning himself to cut through the ropes binding your wrists. “Stay as quiet as you can.”

As he worked at the ropes, your gaze softened, and you murmured, “I knew you’d come. I knew… I’d find you out here, somehow.”

Jon’s hand stilled for a fraction of a second, his heart swelling with an indescribable warmth. “I never stopped thinking about you,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with emotion. “When I saw Shadow… I knew something had happened. I couldn’t leave you out here.”

The last rope gave way, and he helped you pull your arms free, wincing as he saw the raw skin beneath. Ghost and Shadow pressed close, nudging you gently, their presence comforting as you steadied yourself, your legs weak but your resolve strong.

“Come on,” Jon whispered, helping you to your feet, supporting your weight as you leaned against him. He cast a quick glance around the camp; the Wildlings were still occupied, but he knew their luck wouldn’t hold for long.

Suddenly, a voice called out in the Wildling tongue, and Jon’s heart lurched as a figure turned, their eyes falling on you and Jon. The alarm rose quickly, shouts echoing across the camp as Wildlings began to grab their weapons, realizing they had an intruder in their midst.

“Run!” Jon urged, tightening his grip on your hand as he pulled you forward, breaking into a sprint as Ghost and Shadow snarled, positioning themselves between you and the oncoming Wildlings.

Mormont’s voice rang out from the trees. “Move, men! Cover them!”

The Night’s Watch brothers leapt from their hiding spots, arrows flying as they formed a defensive line, pushing back the Wildlings who surged forward. Sam and Grenn each took positions beside Jon, their faces set in grim determination as they helped clear a path through the chaos.

You stumbled, nearly falling as your legs struggled to keep up, but Jon was there, his hand steady on your arm, his eyes fierce with protectiveness. “Come on, Y/N,” he urged, his voice strong, guiding you through the snowy terrain.

The wild cacophony of battle surrounded you, but all you could feel was Jon’s presence, his hand holding yours, pulling you forward, his strength keeping you upright as you escaped the chaos of the camp.

As you finally broke through the treeline, away from the Wildlings, Jon slowed, his arm still around you, his breathing heavy. He looked at you, relief flooding his face. “You’re safe now,” he said, his voice a mixture of exhaustion and profound relief.

You managed a small nod, looking up at him, gratitude and affection shining in your eyes. “Thank you, Jon. I knew… I knew you’d find me.”

He pulled you into a quick embrace, his hand resting on the back of your head, his voice a quiet murmur. “I’ll always find you, Y/N.”

The Night’s Watch brothers finally found a sheltered hollow, a quiet space where the wind wasn’t as merciless, and the snow wasn’t piled so high. Jeor Mormont called a halt, giving the men a moment to catch their breath and tend to any wounds they’d earned in the skirmish. As the others busied themselves with tending to their gear and preparing a quick meal, Jon guided you to sit down against a fallen tree trunk, wrapping his cloak around your shoulders to ward off the biting cold.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice laced with worry as he scanned your face, noting the shadows under your eyes and the raw marks on your wrists.

You managed a small smile, reaching up to touch his hand, savoring the warmth of his skin against yours. “I am now, Jon. Thanks to you.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his eyes softening. “When I saw Shadow… I feared the worst,” he murmured, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles.

You looked down at your hands, your gaze pensive. “It was foolish of me, I know,” you admitted quietly, your breath clouding the air. “But I had to find you. After you left… I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the last time we spoke.” You looked up, meeting his gaze, a fierceness in your eyes that mirrored his own. “I knew I had to come. I couldn’t let you disappear beyond the Wall, not knowing if you were safe. Not knowing if…” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat.

Jon reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek, his touch gentle. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “I would’ve come back to you, you know. Somehow, someway.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his hand, letting his warmth seep into your skin. “I couldn’t take that chance, Jon. I needed to know. I needed to be with you.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, a rare expression of unguarded affection. “You always were stubborn,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on you. “But crossing the Wall, risking everything to find me… You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“I’d do it again,” you replied, your tone resolute. “A hundred times if it meant finding you.”

A throat cleared nearby, breaking the intimate moment, and you looked up to see Sam standing a few feet away, his expression a mixture of awe and shyness as he glanced between you and Jon. He gave an awkward, apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt… I just thought, um, I should introduce myself. I’m Samwell Tarly, Jon’s… friend.”

You smiled warmly, reaching out a hand. “It’s a pleasure, Samwell. Thank you for looking after him.”

Sam flushed, ducking his head as he took your hand. “Oh, well, Jon’s looked after me more times than I can count, actually,” he stammered. “But it’s an honor to meet you, Lady Stark.”

“Just Y/N,” you corrected gently. “Out here, I’m no different from any of you.”

Sam gave a tentative smile, looking as if he might burst with admiration. Before you could say more, Grenn and Pypar wandered over, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

“So, this is the famous Stark sister,” Grenn said with a grin, crossing his arms as he looked you over. “Jon’s told us about you, you know.”

“Nothing but good things, I hope,” you replied with a teasing smile, glancing at Jon, who looked slightly flustered.

Pypar, grinning like a fox, nudged Jon with his elbow. “Oh, only that you’re the stubborn one, the one who won’t listen to reason.” He winked, and Jon shot him a warning look, but there was a warmth in his expression, a kind of ease he rarely allowed himself.

Edd stepped forward, his usual dour expression softened slightly. “If you’re anything like your brother, you’ll find the cold less welcoming than the fireside at Winterfell,” he remarked, giving you a nod.

You chuckled, drawing your cloak closer. “The North teaches you to endure the cold, but this…” You gestured to the frozen expanse around you. “This is something else.”

They all chuckled, the camaraderie easing the tension of the long journey and the battle. Jon watched you with a tender gaze, the sight of you surrounded by his brothers filling him with a quiet pride and warmth. It felt as if a part of home had been returned to him, a piece of himself he hadn’t realized was missing until now.

He reached for your hand again, intertwining your fingers. “So tell me,” he asked softly, his voice carrying a note of worry and curiosity, “how did you even manage to cross the Wall?”

You looked at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Let’s just say I’m good at convincing people. I may have… borrowed a favor or two.” You gave a little shrug, though your eyes held a certain steel. “When you’re determined, there’s always a way.”

Jon shook his head, torn between admiration and exasperation. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, though his smile betrayed his feelings. “I should be furious with you for risking yourself like that.”

“Perhaps,” you replied, leaning closer, your voice barely above a whisper, “but I think you’re glad I’m here.”

He didn’t answer, but his hand tightened around yours, his gaze softening as he looked at you, every unspoken word shining in his eyes. It felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you, a quiet warmth in the heart of the frozen wilderness.

Sam, sensing the moment, gave a small cough and turned to the others. “Maybe we should give them a moment,” he suggested, glancing back at you and Jon with an understanding smile.

The others chuckled and nodded, moving away to give you both some privacy, casting curious glances over their shoulders as they went. When they were out of earshot, Jon turned to you, his face serious.

“Why did you really come, Y/N?” he asked quietly, searching your gaze. “This wasn’t just about checking if I was alright. There’s something more.”

You looked down, your heart pounding. “Because… Jon, I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear the thought of you out here, alone, with no one to care for you. I couldn’t bear to lose you to some duty that will only drive you further away. I thought… if I found you, maybe…” You paused, swallowing, gathering your courage. “Maybe you’d find a reason to come back.”

Jon’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with emotion as he lifted a hand to your face, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “You’re my reason,” he murmured, his voice thick. “You always have been.”

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. “Then let’s find our way back,” you whispered, a hint of hope in your voice.

Jon held you close, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice barely more than a breath. “We will, Y/N. Somehow… we will.”

The small band of Night’s Watch brothers pressed onward, moving through the dense woods under Mormont’s command. Jon’s gaze kept straying forward, watching you walk a few paces ahead, deep in conversation with Mormont. Your head was tilted slightly as you listened to the Old Bear, no doubt discussing your father’s legacy. Jon could see the hint of admiration in Mormont’s expression, the way he spoke to you with a respect few outside of the Watch received.

Beside Jon, Sam shuffled closer, casting him a sidelong glance before whispering, “She’s… she’s really something, isn’t she?”

Jon’s lips twitched in a slight smile. “Aye, she is.”

Sam hesitated, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I mean, not just in the usual way. She’s… well, it’s clear you’re… close.” He fumbled over his words, a nervous look darting toward you before his gaze returned to Jon, a little too eager.

Jon’s brows knitted, sensing where Sam’s thoughts were wandering. “We’re close, yes,” he said, his tone defensive but still soft. “She’s my family.”

“Aye, family,” Sam echoed, but there was a note of amusement in his voice. “But it seems to me she’s more than that. More than a sister.”

Jon gave him a hard look, but before he could respond, Grenn, who had been listening nearby, chuckled and nudged Pypar with his elbow. “Did you hear that, Pyp? Our Jon’s got himself a lady from Winterfell.”

Pyp grinned, raising an eyebrow. “More than a sister, eh? Should we start calling her Lady Snow?”

Jon’s cheeks flushed, and he scowled at the two of them. “It’s not like that,” he muttered through gritted teeth, but the faint blush staining his cheeks betrayed him.

Edd joined the group, his usual deadpan expression laced with amusement. “She does look a bit like Robb, though, doesn’t she?” he said dryly, casting Jon a mischievous look. “Makes it a bit strange, doesn’t it? Fancying someone who could pass for your brother’s double.”

Jon’s scowl deepened, his jaw clenched tightly. “It’s not about that,” he said stiffly. “She’s… she’s her own person. You’d know that if you spent half a moment actually talking to her.”

Sam stifled a chuckle, but his eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and genuine curiosity. “But, Jon,” he ventured cautiously, “you have to admit, it is a bit unusual. I mean… not that I’m judging,” he added hastily, “but with the resemblance…”

Jon shot him a dark look. “She’s not Robb, and it’s nothing like that. She’s… She’s different,” he insisted, his voice dropping to a murmur as his gaze drifted forward to where you were still walking, oblivious to the teasing murmurs and sidelong glances behind you.

Edd wasn’t finished, though. With his usual unshakeable deadpan tone, he gave Jon a sidelong look and smirked. “So, did you two… you know,” he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively, “do it?”

Jon nearly stumbled over his own feet, his face reddening furiously. “Edd!” he hissed, glaring at him with wide eyes, horrified by the audacity. He shook his head vehemently. “No, we did not ‘do it.’ She’s—she’s my sister, for gods’ sakes!” he said, his voice a fierce whisper.

Edd only shrugged, unaffected by Jon’s irritation. “Sister by name, maybe, but you seem to look at her in a way that makes it clear she’s… different. No shame in it, Jon,” he added with a slight grin. “We’ve all seen it. If she’s not just a sister to you, well, that’s your business.”

Jon’s fists clenched at his sides, his patience fraying. He glanced at you, still obliviously walking ahead, engrossed in conversation with Mormont, and took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s not like that. I care about her, but it’s not… I wouldn’t… disrespect her like that,” he muttered, his voice rough with frustration and something else, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit even to himself.

But Sam, emboldened by Edd’s remarks and the spark of mischief that rarely came to him, leaned in with an apologetic smile. “I don’t think Edd means disrespect, Jon. But… it’s plain to see. The way you look at her, it’s different. More than just kin. It’s… well, it’s the way someone looks at a person they love.”

Jon felt his throat tighten, the truth in Sam’s words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. He had always known there was a part of him that saw you as more than family, as something unspoken, a bond he couldn’t define. But admitting it aloud, hearing it from his friends, was something else entirely.

“Look,” Jon said, his voice low and firm, glancing at each of them, “she means everything to me. She’s… part of me, and I would do anything to protect her. But whatever you think you’re seeing, it’s not what you think.”

Grenn raised his hands in surrender, smirking. “Alright, alright, no need to bite our heads off, Jon. Just sayin’. It’s hard to miss how you look at her, that’s all.”

Pyp chuckled, nudging Jon playfully. “No judgment here, Snow. If you want to write to the Old Gods and take her as your lady, we’ll all be here to toast you.”

Jon sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “You lot are impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Just then, you turned around, glancing over your shoulder to see the group of men huddled close, clearly discussing something with amused looks on their faces. You raised an eyebrow, a faint smile on your lips as you called back, “Are you all plotting something back there?”

Jon straightened, trying to school his expression into one of casual innocence. “Just… keeping each other warm,” he replied, his voice more gruff than he intended.

You chuckled, your gaze lingering on him for a moment, your eyes filled with the warmth he had missed more than he would ever say. “Don’t let me interrupt your brotherly bonding, then,” you said lightly, your smile softening as you turned back to Mormont.

The others waited until you were a few steps ahead before Pyp broke into a laugh, clapping Jon on the back. “Brotherly bonding, huh? If only she knew.”

Jon shot him a look, but the smile on his face lingered this time, his heart lighter than it had felt in days.

The attack had come without warning, swift and brutal. Wildlings burst out from the treeline, shrieking battle cries as they closed in on the Night’s Watch party. In the confusion, the brothers had scattered, each fighting to hold their ground amidst the chaos. Swords clashed, arrows flew, and the thick scent of blood filled the cold air.

Jon moved on instinct, his focus narrowed to one goal: keeping you safe. He had seen you knocked to the ground in the initial rush, fighting your way back up as you swung at any Wildling that dared come near. When the line broke, he grabbed your hand, pulling you along as he ducked through the melee, Ghost and Shadow flanking you both, snarling and snapping to hold back any attackers.

“Stay close!” he yelled over the clamor, tightening his grip on your hand.

The world was a blur of flashing steel, shouts, and the red of the setting sun casting an eerie glow over the snow. You clung to Jon, your breaths coming fast as you followed his lead, trusting him implicitly.

“We’re getting separated!” you cried, glancing over your shoulder to see the others scattering, pushing back against the Wildling assault. “Jon, where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here!” he shouted, guiding you toward a narrow path that sloped down into a ravine, its dark mouth hidden by the dense thicket. Ghost and Shadow moved beside you, their hackles raised, eyes fixed on the wild, shifting shadows as you stumbled into the shelter of the ravine.

Once inside, Jon glanced back, his eyes searching the treeline for any sign of the Night’s Watch or the Wildlings, but all he could see was the distant flicker of movement and hear the fading cries of battle.

“Let’s lay low here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he guided you deeper into the ravine, the walls of stone narrowing around you like protective arms. The howling wind above barely touched the sheltered hollow, leaving an eerie, insulated silence.

You slid down onto a flat patch of ground, your breath coming in gasps as you leaned back against the cold stone. Jon sat beside you, his own breathing ragged, his eyes scanning the dim surroundings, ever watchful.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his gaze finally settling on you, a glint of worry softening his usual stern expression.

You shook your head, managing a faint smile despite the exhaustion weighing you down. “I’m alright. Just… a bit shaken.”

Jon nodded, his hand resting on your shoulder in silent reassurance. Ghost and Shadow settled nearby, their keen eyes fixed on the entrance to the ravine, ears twitching at every faint sound. You could feel the warmth of Jon’s hand through your cloak, steady and grounding amidst the turmoil.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and filled with unspoken concern. “I thought I’d lost you back there.”

You looked at him, his face etched with worry, his dark eyes heavy with the weight of what he didn’t say aloud. “You didn’t,” you replied, reaching over to cover his hand with yours. “I’m here, Jon. And I’m not going anywhere.”

His gaze softened as he looked down at your hand resting on his. For a moment, the danger outside the ravine seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of you in this small, quiet world. “I know it’s selfish, but… I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. Not out here, not where I can’t protect you.”

You swallowed, the sincerity in his voice tugging at something deep within you. “Jon, you’re not responsible for me,” you whispered, though part of you felt a fierce comfort in the thought that he wanted to be.

He shook his head, his fingers tightening around yours. “It’s not about responsibility. It’s… I’ve always felt it. Like you’re a part of me, and if I lost you…” His voice broke off, his gaze falling as he struggled to find the words.

You took a steadying breath, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a blanket, warm and overwhelming. “I feel the same,” you admitted softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “That’s why I came here, Jon. To be with you. To make sure you’re safe. Because I can’t bear the thought of you out here, alone.”

The silence hung between you, heavy with meaning, each unspoken word more powerful than anything you could say aloud. Jon’s gaze met yours, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

Before either of you could speak again, a low growl rumbled from Ghost. Jon turned, instantly alert, his hand instinctively going to his sword as he scanned the entrance of the ravine. But nothing appeared—only the shifting shadows and the faint whistle of the wind above.

“Looks like we’ll be safe here for a while,” he murmured, his posture relaxing slightly as he looked back at you.

You nodded, pulling your cloak tighter around yourself to ward off the chill. “This place feels like a world away from everything,” you murmured, glancing around at the stone walls towering above, the narrow slice of sky visible through the crack in the rock. “It’s almost… peaceful.”

Jon smiled faintly, his hand drifting to your shoulder as he leaned closer, his voice soft. “Then maybe it’s exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

You settled against him, the warmth of his presence easing the lingering tremors in your body. For the first time since crossing the Wall, you felt a semblance of safety, cradled in the shelter of the ravine with Jon beside you, Ghost and Shadow keeping watch.

Jon’s hand found yours again, his fingers weaving through yours, and he let out a quiet sigh. “Maybe we can rest here for a while. Just… be here. With you.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, your heart swelling with a warmth that defied the cold of the Northern wilderness. “I’d like that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned into him, letting yourself savor this rare moment of peace.

In the stillness of the ravine, surrounded by stone and shadows, the world outside felt like a distant memory, leaving just the two of you, together, in a place that felt like home.

As night settled over the ravine, the cold intensified, creeping through even the thickest layers of fur and leather. The two of you huddled together beneath Jon’s cloak, your bodies pressed close to share warmth, while Ghost and Shadow stood vigilant at the mouth of the narrow shelter, their eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

Jon’s arm was wrapped around you, holding you tightly against him, his breath warming your cheek. His presence was steady, calming, grounding you in a way that made the frigid air and harsh wilderness feel like a distant threat, something beyond the safe bubble you shared with him. You felt his heartbeat, strong and steady, as he kept you close, his touch gentle but possessive.

After a long silence, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a softness he reserved only for you. “I’ve missed this,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your shoulder. “Just… having you close, feeling like we’re the only two people in the world.”

You looked up at him, catching the intensity in his gaze, and a warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading outward, filling every corner of you. “I missed it, too,” you whispered, your hand drifting up to rest on his chest, feeling the strength beneath the fabric, the warmth of him seeping into your fingertips. “Out here, it feels like nothing else matters. Like it’s just us.”

Jon’s gaze softened, his fingers tracing a line along your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “It is just us,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your lips, lingering there as if memorizing the shape of your mouth. “Here, there’s no one else… no duties, no vows. Just you and me.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and full of meaning. You felt a flutter in your chest as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, and for a moment, the world outside faded entirely, leaving only the two of you in the intimacy of that shared space.

Slowly, his lips met yours, tentative at first, then deepening as he felt you respond, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The kiss grew more intense, a release of every unspoken word, every lingering glance, every hidden feeling that had been building between you. His fingers tangled in your hair, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

Your breaths quickened as you melted into him, letting go of the worries, the fears, the doubts that had haunted you. Here, in his arms, everything felt right, natural, as if you had been waiting for this moment all your life.

He broke the kiss, his forehead still pressed against yours as he looked at you, his eyes dark with emotion, his voice low and rough. “I don’t want this to end,” he whispered, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. “I want to stay here… with you. Forever, if I could.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing over his cheek, feeling the roughness of his skin, the warmth beneath it. “Forever is a very long time, Jon,” you murmured, a hint of playful affection in your tone.

He chuckled, his smile softening as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then let it be as long as it wants to be. As long as I have you, I don’t care.”

The weight of his words settled over you, filling you with a warmth that chased away the last remnants of cold. You pulled him down, your lips finding his again, and this time there was no hesitation, no holding back. The night stretched on as you surrendered to the intensity of his touch, each caress a promise, each kiss a declaration.

When you finally lay together, wrapped in his arms beneath the cloak, the aftermath of your shared passion lingering like a quiet warmth, Jon held you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “I mean it,” he whispered, his voice soft but firm. “I want to be with you. I want this… forever.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes, a smile playing on your lips. “Then forever it is,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him one last time, sealing the promise as the two of you drifted into a peaceful slumber, safe and together beneath the stars.

The early morning light filtered down through the trees, casting a muted glow over the ravine as you and Jon stirred, tangled together beneath his cloak. The warmth of his body beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, grounded you in a way that made you wish the moment could last forever. But the world around you began to wake, a reminder that reality was waiting, and you would have to step back into it soon.

Ghost’s ears twitched, and he lifted his head, alert, his red eyes fixed on the approaching figures at the mouth of the ravine. Moments later, Mormont and the others emerged from the trees, their footsteps crunching through the snow. Mormont’s keen gaze settled on you and Jon, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of you both huddled close, still wrapped in the cloak.

“There you are,” Mormont said, his tone brisk as he scanned the area. “We lost sight of you two during the skirmish. Thought we might have lost you.”

Jon shifted beside you, pulling away slightly, though his hand lingered on yours for just a heartbeat longer. “We took cover here, Lord Commander,” he explained, his voice steady as he rose to his feet, extending a hand to help you up. “It was… safer to wait for the attack to end.”

Mormont’s gaze flicked between you and Jon, his eyes lingering a bit longer on the closeness you’d shared, but he only nodded, his tone gruff as ever. “Good thinking. You’ve both made it through, and that’s what matters.”

Sam, Grenn, and Pypar exchanged glances, their eyes alight with curiosity, though they wisely kept their questions to themselves. Jon glanced over at you, catching your eye, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, a quiet understanding passing between you, a silent acknowledgment of the night you had shared.

As the group began to move out of the ravine, Sam fell into step beside Jon, casting him a sidelong glance, his cheeks slightly pink. He hesitated, glancing at the others to make sure they were out of earshot before he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… Jon,” he ventured, his tone both hesitant and eager, “how… how was it?”

Jon stiffened, his expression tightening as he shot Sam a look. “Sam, don’t,” he muttered, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. “It’s… it’s not something we should be talking about.”

But Sam’s curiosity wouldn’t be so easily deflected. He offered Jon an encouraging, almost conspiratorial smile. “Come on, Jon,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve… I’ve never known someone who… well, who had something like that. It’s just… well, I’m curious.”

Jon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. But he knew Sam meant no harm, and the eagerness in his friend’s face was difficult to resist. After a moment of hesitation, he leaned in slightly, his voice low and reluctant. “It was… more than I ever imagined, Sam,” he admitted, his gaze flicking forward to where you walked. “Being with her, it felt… like it was meant to be.”

Sam’s eyes widened, his expression a mixture of awe and excitement. “Jon, that’s… that’s wonderful,” he murmured, his tone almost reverent. “But… you know, the others… they might not understand. Mormont especially…”

Jon nodded, his expression hardening slightly as he considered the implications. “I know. Which is why I need you to keep it between us, Sam. It’s… it’s private, and it’s something that I don’t want the others to know about.”

Sam’s face grew serious, and he nodded solemnly. “Of course, Jon. I promise. I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Jon offered him a small, grateful smile, a sense of relief washing over him. “Thank you, Sam,” he said softly. “I appreciate it.”

As they walked on in silence, Jon’s gaze drifted back to you. You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eye, and a soft smile touched your lips, a silent communication that only the two of you could understand. It was a fleeting moment, but it held a world of meaning, a promise that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

With Sam beside him and you up ahead, Jon felt a rare sense of peace settle over him, the weight of his secret shared, his heart lightened by the presence of those he held closest. For the first time since joining the Night’s Watch, he allowed himself to believe in the possibility of happiness, however fleeting it might be.

[legionofshaza]

A place to call home

Lucien week day 5 @lucienweekofficial

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The sun had just begun to slowly rise, casting a golden hue over the Autumn Court. Lucien stood on the edge of the balcony, staring out at the forest that stretched endlessly beyond.It was beautiful,but it wasn’t home.

Not anymore.

Lucien had spent his whole life wandering, whether across lands or courts, always searching for a place where he could truly belong. He had hoped to find it with Tamlin, in the Spring Court. At first, it had felt like home—a sanctuary of golden fields and blooming gardens where he could escape the weight of his past. But that feeling had long since crumbled, buried beneath the ashes of betrayal and power.

He thought of Velaris, of the Night Court, where Feyre and Rhysand had built something precious. It had a warmth, a peace that called to him. But he could not shake the sense that he was an outsider there, even among those who treated him with kindness. He knew Feyre cared for him in her own way, but she had her own life, her own family. His place in it was… peripheral. He was not like Cassian or Azriel, with their unspoken brotherhood. He was not Rhysand’s inner circle, not really. He was a guest, a friend. A visitor.

“Is everything all right?”

The voice startled him from his thoughts, though he knew it well. Elain stood at the threshold of the balcony looking at him.She had a way of entering his presence silently, as though she were a part of the world itself—soft and unassuming, yet impossible to ignore.

Lucien straightened, his heart doing the now-familiar stutter it always did when she was near. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight. Elain had spent much of her time in Velaris, her life entwined with her sisters and their court. He hadn’t dared to ask her to stay. How could he?

“Elain,” he murmured, turning to face her. “I didn’t know you were back.”

She smiled, a small, tentative thing that seemed to light up the dimming world around them. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but Feyre mentioned you’d returned here for a few days. I… I thought I’d join you.”

Lucien’s chest tightened. He had come back to the Autumn Court, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to. There was unfinished business here—family ties that still gnawed at him, even after all this time. He had hoped to leave quietly, unnoticed, as always.

But here she was, her presence both a comfort and a confusion. Elain had a home. She had her family in Velaris. What was she doing here, in a court that had never been kind to either of them?

“You didn’t have to come,” Lucien said quietly, stepping toward her. “This place isn’t… it’s not for you.”

Elain met his gaze, her eyes soft but steady. “Maybe not. But I thought it might be for you.”

For him?

Lucien wanted to scoff, to laugh bitterly at the notion that the Autumn Court, of all places, could ever be home to him again. But the look in Elain’s eyes stopped him. She wasn’t here out of pity or obligation. She was here because she chose to be. And for a moment, Lucien dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, she saw something in him.

He swallowed, his throat tight. “I don’t know if I belong anywhere, Elain. Not here. Not… anywhere.”

She stepped closer, until she was standing right beside him, her gaze drifting out to the sprawling forest.Elain was quiet for a long moment, as though considering his words, or perhaps searching for the right ones to offer in return.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but firm. “Home isn’t always a place, Lucien. Sometimes it’s… it’s a person. Or the people who make you feel like you belong, even when you don’t see it yourself.”

Lucien felt the weight of her words settle over him, gentle and warm like the fading sunlight. He wanted to believe her, to let that warmth into the cold, lonely parts of his soul that had long ago turned to ice. But he wasn’t sure if he could. He had spent so long wandering, so long searching for something he didn’t think he deserved to find.

But then Elain looked up at him, her eyes filled with quiet determination, and he wondered if maybe he’d been searching in the wrong places all along.

“Maybe I don’t belong anywhere,” he murmured. “But when I’m with you… it feels like something. Like I’m not so lost.”

Elain’s hand brushed his, a gentle touch that sent a shock of warmth through him. “Then let’s not be lost together.”

Lucien stared at her, his heart in his throat, unsure of what to say. But maybe words weren’t what was needed here. Maybe, for once, it was enough to simply be. To stand here, with Elain beside him, and let the idea of home take root in a place he never expected to find it.

Maybe home wasn’t something he had to find. Maybe it was something he could choose.

 Lucien found himself hoping that home might be wherever she was.

💘 End 💘

[dakota1435]

Moonlight Blood – Vampire!Sylus X Reader ✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧

Word Count: 2.8k

tags: NSFW!!, blood mention, sylus is consent king

(Previous chapters on my page)

Chapter 5

For the rest of the time, you don’t see Sylus nor the twins. It astonished you a bit, how much they left you alone. Given such privacy, you decided to wander down the same hallways, same corridors. There were definitely parts of the mansion you haven’t seen yet, but maybe that was for the best. You enter a broad common room, one that actually has a large glass window. The sun was rising, you noticed. Your sense of time has been skewed since you’ve arrived, considering there were a lack of windows, and mostly saw Sylus at night. Oddly enough, you didn’t really feel different.

As you stare out of the window, watching the sky blend with colors, you hear a low voice behind you.

“Do you miss the sun?” Sylus asked. You turned around, a little unphased at his sudden appearance. He lounges comfortably in a large leather chair.

“I do,” you answered honestly, “but I never saw the night sky as much. It is beautiful and comforting in some way.” Sylus takes a glance at you as you spoke, but doesn’t respond. “Where were you?” You spoke again, hoping to fill the thick silence in the air.

“Wrapping up some loose ends from the auction earlier.” He smirks, his canines flashing. You didn’t know what to say to that.

“The sun is coming up, shouldn’t you…be away?” You said, choosing your words carefully.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No! No I—”

“The sun isn’t going to kill me, kitten, it probably takes a lot more than that,” he interrupted, finding entertainment in your anxiety. “But, I don’t like it either. I was going to leave soon,” he admitted. It made you realize you just didn’t know anything about Sylus. Mysterious as ever. He stands up and calmly walks towards you. It takes a few paces before his height is towering over you. You don’t move, unsure if it was fear or curiosity that kept you rooted in your spot. He tucks your thick, long hair behind your ear. He looked down at you as if you weren’t real, that touching your hair brought him back to reality.

“Can I ask you something?” You felt a dash of courage reach up to you. So far, you’ve been able to speak freely in front of Sylus. But you were never going to push the limit.

“Speak.”

You take a breath, as if preparing your question. “How often do you need to… feed?” The last word barely came out. You averted your gaze, almost embarrassed you were asking such a question. It felt too personal for someone like Sylus. Much to your surprise, he snickers.

“I take care of myself when I need to.” His words were a bit vague. A thought popped in your mind and you blurted it out without thinking.

“Are you feeding from other people?” As the question leaves your lips, you feel something uneasy in your gut. Your heartbeat begins to pick up, no doubt Sylus wouldn’t notice. You don’t know why you would feel uncomfortable with Sylus feeding from someone other than you. Sure, you didn’t want him to hurt innocent people. But that’s what he bought you for, right? In the two weeks you’ve been here, he’s fed once. It keeps you on edge constantly, always mentally preparing yourself for Sylus. When did you become so submissive?

You feel Sylus standing deathly still. It doesn’t help the growing anxiety in your chest. “It’s not easy to control myself with someone like you. But it hurts, doesn’t it? The bite. I don’t exactly want to scare you off, kitten. I paid good money for you.” He places a soft hand under your chin, compelling you to look into his eyes. You realized he didn’t exactly answer your question, which was an answer itself. His touch was comforting, but his words reminded you of what you were to him. Just blood. That’s the only reason why he bought you. He’s taking care of you, because you are blood. Something churns in your stomach, a feeling you couldn’t quite grasp.

“You can’t scare me off.” A lie, but you wanted to come off stronger. That you weren’t weak, even if that meant willingly submitting yourself. You hold the eye contact between you two, standing your ground. A smirk teases his lips.

“I suppose you’re stronger than I’d like to think.” It sounded like an insult. He lowers his head close to yourself, his lips inches away from your ear. “Tell me, then…” his voice grew darker, huskier. It gave you goosebumps. “If I bit you right now, would you resist? Would you squirm in the pain I give to you?” His sudden change in demeanor makes you hold your breath. He slowly lowers his hand down to your wrist before firmly grabbing it. A soft gasp escapes from your mouth from the rough contact. He stands himself up, looking back at you again. Still holding your wrist, he brings it up near his mouth. You watch, silently, as he touches his lips against the pale of your skin. Not exactly a kiss, but something else entirely. It’s…Intimate.

“It doesn’t have to hurt so much, you know,” he said, dropping your arm back down.

“It doesn’t?” You questioned, trying to find the answer before he gave it to you.

“Give yourself to me. Give me all of you,” he urged. He slightly bows and extends his hand out to you. He was inviting you. “Let me guide you through the pain. Let me take care of everything.” The pink morning glow started to fill the room. You take a look outside before back at Sylus. His palm, face up, is waiting for you. Beckoning you, in a way. His tone was seductive and sweet like warm honey. You realized he was telling you to trust him. You feel your mind hesitate, but your fingertips tingle with anticipation for what’s to come. Sylus was difficult to read, but you knew that he was trying to be gentle with you. In his own way, at least. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing for what’s to come. If the pain won’t be as bad…then surely it can be more bearable. You take a deep breath as Sylus’ unwavering stare burns into you.

He won. Steadily, you reach back out to him. A wicked smile flashes his lips, his white fangs reminding you of what was to come. Your hand just barely rests above his.

“Come,” he commanded. Without warning, you are instantly transported into a dark, windowless room. You still grip onto his hand, afraid you’ll trip. A few warm lights emit in the room, giving it a visible glow so that you could see. Sylus doesn’t take his stare off of you. It was like he was observing every part of you, every reaction and movement. Taking a look around, you found yourself to be in the same room you woke up in after being bit the first time. Given on Sylus’ choosing, you assumed this was his personal room. “I hear your heart pounding. You are still frightened,” he pointed out. You didn’t realize your heart has been pulsating since you grabbed your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, unsure why you were even apologizing in the first place. Everything about this situation was unpredictable. You didn’t know what to think, let alone feel.

“Relax,” he commanded again, “you can handle it.” His confidence in you was harsh, but mildly comforting. He slowly closes the distance between you two, his close proximity causing you to be still. He caresses your jaw, his touch feather-light. It felt like electricity, his touch lingering with a buzz.

“Tell me,” he says. You look up at him, a little puzzled. He takes a step closer, your bodies almost touching. The back of your legs were close to the edge of the bed. If Sylus comes any closer, you’d have to sit yourself back on the bed. “Tell me that you’ll give yourself to me. All of you.” He lowers his head and places a gentle kiss on the side of your neck.

Oh.

You can feel the rapid heat swell in your cheeks. If your heart was already pounding, you weren’t sure if it was going to keep beating much longer. Sylus doesn’t move another inch as he awaits your response. You swallow, preparing for the words about to leave your mouth.

“I…I give myself to you, Sylus.” You whispered. He shifts forward a bit, causing you to sit on the bed below you. His body now hovered above you, his leg placed deliberately between yours, causing you to open up a bit more. Never, in your life, have you thought this is where you would be. Your head swam with racing thoughts of what was about to come. But, there was something in his touch that made you feel warm all over. It soothed you, like a heavy-weight blanket. You felt dizzy, your nerves tingling where he touched. It felt like fire and ice at the same time. He places another kiss on your neck, the sensitivity makes you want to squirm.

“Be a good girl. I’ll take care of you,” he reassures you again, sensing your nervousness. His lips brush against your ear before you feel his hot, wet tongue trace up the skin. The sudden feeling betrayed the breath you were holding, causing you to sigh out loud. “Don’t hide anything from me. You said you would give me all of you.” His tone turns darker, possessive even. You had no idea how to process any of this, it all felt like it was moving too fast. Your body and mind were at war with each other. You craved more, desired more, but your mind told you this was still a predator. A very big, hungry monster. His body presses closer against you, one hand embracing the side of your neck while the other grasps just above your hip bone. Another kiss to your neck.

You haven’t experienced another experience this close. Sure, there were people you flirted with. Talked dirty with, made out with. But this? It was something on another level. It felt ethereal, as if Sylus was a fallen angel made for you. Each touch, each kiss felt like liquid sin. It was rather intoxicating and since you were this far, you already decided you would give yourself wholly. You feel yourself become softer as his touch continues. You wrap your free arm around him, holding his head as you let him continue. Your reciprocation gives Sylus a silent permission to go further. He lifts his head to stare at you, his crimson eyes filled with desire like you have never seen. You find yourself already breathing hard, knowing your cheeks are red and eyes glossy.

At this moment, this was the point of no return. Holding the side of your face, Sylus lowers himself to kiss you. It’s soft and gentle, but as you return the kiss it becomes more greedy. His grasp on you tightens and you’re both moving with uncontrollable desire. You feel his tongue over your lips and without hesitation you open your mouth more. You didn’t care you were at the mercy of your buyer, a blood thirsty vampire. Dangerous and a killer. You numbed the thoughts with the current pleasure. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you told yourself. You feel your body becoming hot all over, a dampness forming in between your legs. A soft moan escapes your lips when they aren't occupied with Sylus’.

“Do you want more?” He breaks the kiss, his voice husky and deep. Your lips tingle from the kissing that you didn’t want to stop. Unconsciously you graze your fingers over your lips, feeling them plump and wet. You nod in response. “I need to hear you say it,” he said darkly. Sure enough, he didn’t move until he heard you speak again,

“...Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, flustered at his teasing behavior. “I want more.” On cue, Sylus leans back down to kiss you with passion. You feel his hand trace down your chest, over your stomach, and stopping right above your core. With ease, he slips his hand under your clothes. Your breath is caught in your throat as he begins to touch you. You hold onto him tighter, as if you could seep through the floor. He begins kissing your neck again, along with your jaw.

“Already so wet, are you?” Sylus snickers under his breath. You wish you could bury your face, a little embarrassed at your extreme sensitivity. His hand teases you below, causing you to whimper. Without a doubt, you were utterly soaked. He sits himself up, still playing with you. His brows were a little furrowed and his breathing labored. It turned you on more, to see that he had the same desire. You could tell from his piercing gaze he loved to watch you twitch under his touch. He wanted to see all the faces you could make, all the sounds coming from your pretty little throat. Sylus teases your entrance before putting a finger in. You gasp, looking up where his hand is. It was just one finger…yet it felt already enough. It slips in with ease, prompting Sylus to slowly move in and out. You couldn’t hold back the moans anymore as he thumbs your clit, lazily rubbing in circles.

If this is what heaven felt like, you were ready to go.

He added another finger and you felt full. You couldn’t imagine anything more than that. You dramatically reach out to him, desperate to hold and cling to. You take your courage and crash your lips to his again. Your lead takes him by surprise, but he doesn’t falter. His hand is working harder now, your moans slipping in your kisses. The pleasure made your mind blank, only focusing on one thing only; Sylus. Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.

“...Please.” You mumble. You could barely think straight. Sylus lifts his head, and his hand works harder.

“Please, what? Speak sweetheart.” You were already drunk on your own pleasure. Words pop in your mind but fade as you feel yourself getting closer. It’s as if he knew every sweet spot about you. Everything about his touch was perfect and it made your muscles feel like jelly. He takes his two fingers out for a moment, earning a whine from you, before he slicks them against your throbbing clit. He slips them in again, back to their original position. Feeling wet all over, a new form of pleasure overtakes you. You feel your core tightening.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, trying to concentrate on every single thrust and touch he gave you. You were becoming undone so easily beneath his touch. Your eyes glazed over him, seeing his starving expression. You think, now, it was time. You put your head to the side, exposing your neck as best as you could. You could feel your legs tremble, knowing you were close. “Bite,” you barely managed to get out. Your moans were uncontrollable, it was a miracle you weren’t hyperventilating.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” Sylus said, his voice dark with lust. His mouth was slightly parted as he breathed fast, his fangs slightly exposed.

“Mmmf– Bite!” You yelled out. Sylus doesn’t hesitate after the words leave your lips. He licks up your neck before sinking his teeth down. While he still fingered you, his bite created a new form of pleasure like you have never experienced. Instantaneously, you come on his hand. Your thighs shake as you dig your nails into the back of Sylus. He cautiously removes his hand as he still drinks from you. Your breath was rapid, a light headedness coming in heavy. Well, you thought to yourself, it didn’t really hurt. Your grip on Sylus loosens, causing him to pull away from you. He looks at you with wide eyes, a drop of blood falling past his lips. He must’ve thought he went too far, but seeing you were still conscious, he gives you a rare, soft smile. A sheen of sweat wears on you, your cheeks still flushed. You were glowing from the after pleasure. As your breathing becomes more in control, Sylus speaks.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked plainly. You can’t help but laugh, feeling sheepish knowing you came just from his hand and bite.

“Yes.” You smile back at him, feeling your muscles worn with exhaustion. As you calm down from the orgasm, you can feel your eyelids getting heavy.

“You did well,” he praised, tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear. Something about his constant praise made you blush. “I’ll draw you a bath,” he said, before promptly lifting himself up off of you. The physical absence made you ache in a new way, a way you never felt before. He goes into the master bathroom before you hear a rush of water pouring in. For the few seconds you have, you recall what happened. You feel your neck, the wounds already healed.

Something deep buries in you, and you knew this was just the beginning

[goblin-jr]

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you.

Part 2 now up!!!

Synopsis: Y/N has loved JJ for as long as she can remember. Now, as JJ falls for someone new, Y/N’s heart is pulled in a million different directions. 

Pairing: JJ x Reader x Rafe

Part 1 Part 2

---

The sun was setting, casting warm amber light across the Outer Banks, painting the world in hues Y/N had come to know by heart. She’d watched these sunsets with JJ more times than she could count, usually from the old dock or one of their secret hideaways. This place, the marshes and beaches, had been their world since they were six years old. They’d grown up as each other’s shadow—two kids with wayward parents and a shared sense of adventure.

JJ had always been the loud one, fearless in the way he took on the world, while Y/N found herself quietly filling the spaces beside him, standing steady when life went off course. But somewhere along the line, her feelings had slipped past friendship. Now, at sixteen, Y/N’s heart raced just seeing JJ flash that mischievous grin she’d memorized years ago.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened—maybe during the late-night talks under starlit skies or after he’d shown up at her house that one terrible night when her parents' shouts rattled the windows. He was the only one who could chase away the dark. She wanted to tell him, but there was always something in the way. Mostly, lately, it was Kie.

Kie, with her bright laugh and easy charm. Y/N loved her, she really did, but there were moments when she wished she could be just a bit more like her: braver, more outgoing, effortless. JJ followed Kie with a starry-eyed devotion that broke Y/N’s heart, but she could never resent Kie for it. Besides, wasn’t it enough just to have JJ as a friend? To be by his side, even if she couldn’t hold his hand the way she wanted to?

This particular day at the country club was supposed to be different.

Y/N clocked in and picked up a tray, weaving her way around tables of tourists and regulars, her smile polite but practiced. Working alongside JJ made the shifts easier, though today her nerves twisted every time she thought about what she wanted to say. She’d decided that today was the day she’d finally tell him.

But as she scanned the room, she caught sight of JJ across the dining area, trailing Kie with that familiar, hopeful look on his face. Y/N’s heart sank, but she tried to shake it off. So what if JJ had a crush on Kie? It didn’t change what she had to say. It would just… complicate things.

She was so lost in thought that she barely noticed Rafe Cameron standing by his family’s usual table until he cleared his throat.

“Y/N, right?” he said, giving her a nod that was polite but impersonal, the sort of acknowledgment he probably reserved for the people who worked at his family’s club. “Is there someone I can talk to about the dinner reservations? There’s been some confusion.”

“Oh—yeah, sure,” she stammered, mentally kicking herself for spacing out. “I can take care of it.”

“Great,” he said, offering her a polite, reserved smile. “Appreciate it.”

He was cordial enough, but Y/N knew his reputation. He was practically crowned king of the Kooks, and though he hadn’t done anything wrong, she felt that familiar, instinctual distrust rise up. She turned and made her way to the reservation counter, Rafe already forgotten as her eyes found JJ again.

She could see him chatting with Kie across the terrace, his eyes following her with a soft look Y/N knew too well. JJ looked at Kie like she was a sunrise, something bright and untouchable. Kie was laughing, carefree as always, and Y/N had to look away. She couldn’t help but wish she could be like that—just a little more confident, a little more magnetic.

She took a deep breath. She’d tell JJ anyway. She’d waited too long already, right? They were best friends; he’d understand, even if he didn’t feel the same way.

But when her shift finally ended, she found JJ out by the clubhouse steps, pacing back and forth with that jittery energy he got whenever he was excited. Before she could say a word, he looked up, grinning.

“Hey! Guess what?” he said, his face lit up like he was about to burst. “Kie just invited me out on the boat tomorrow. It’s like, not a date or anything, but… y’know, she wants me there.”

The words she’d been holding in all day lodged in her throat. She forced a smile, trying to swallow the ache that suddenly felt so heavy. “That’s… that’s great, JJ. I know you’ve been hoping she’d notice you.”

“Right? I mean, it’s probably nothing, but it’s a start, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair, practically bouncing with anticipation. “You should come too. She’d love it if you came. We’ll all hang out like old times.”

“Yeah… maybe,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

JJ didn’t seem to notice the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she was grateful for it. She didn’t want him to see the hurt she was holding back. All she wanted was to be close to him, and if that meant staying quiet, being his best friend even when her heart was breaking, then that was what she’d do.

“See you later, then?” JJ asked, giving her a quick hug before jogging off, probably already daydreaming about tomorrow.

Y/N stood there, watching him disappear, feeling her resolve crumble. She’d come so close, but maybe today just wasn’t the right time. There would be other days, right? Other moments when JJ wasn’t looking at someone else with that same hopeful gleam in his eyes.

She walked home slowly, the sunset painting everything in soft pastels, the familiar landscape feeling just a little emptier. She thought about JJ, the way his laugh sounded like home, the way he’d always been her anchor. Even if she could never tell him, she’d stay by his side.

Maybe tomorrow, or the day after that. She’d tell him someday. But for now, loving him quietly was enough. It had to be.

--

this is a short and sweet intro to what is (hopefully) a new series! Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

[paxtito]

sex, drugs, etc.

pairings: vada x reader (g!p)

word count: 4759

warnings: smut 18+, swearing, use of drugs, p in v, they’re high af

summary: you’re a bright student but your sensibleness crumbles when vada is around

a/n: hii, this fic is back up, i privated it because i can’t tell if i like it or not and was contemplating on rewriting but i’ll just leave it as it is 🙃

MASTERLIST

The hazy glow of the fairy lights strung across your ceiling seems a little too bright, a little too soft, like you’re floating inside some kind of dreamy bubble. You’re lying back on your bed, giggling at absolutely nothing, while Vada’s sprawled out beside you, head tilted back as she lets out a satisfied sigh. There’s a faint smell of something smoky lingering in the air, and your head feels light, like you’ve somehow managed to let go of all the things that usually weigh you down.

Vada’s influence, no doubt.

You were a goodie two-shoes once—always playing by the rules, never straying too far outside the lines. But somehow, Vada makes it all seem… different. She’s got that spark, that wild, untamed energy that makes everything feel like an adventure. One look, one crooked smile, and you find yourself following her down paths you never thought you’d tread.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, grinning at you, her eyes a little glassy but filled with that mischievous glint that you’ve come to both fear and love.

You take a second to think, to try to wrap your head around the way your body feels. Every little sensation is sharper, more vivid—the cool sheets under you, the warmth of her arm brushing yours. It’s like your mind’s taking it all in for the first time.

“Floaty,” you say, and then break into a giggle that you can’t seem to stop. “And really, really good.”

Vada chuckles, and the sound is low and relaxed, like she’s sharing some secret with you. She reaches over, tugging a strand of your hair playfully. “See? Told you you’d like it. Gotta loosen up a little, take the world in from a different angle.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, well, you make it look way easier than it is.”

She shrugs, leaning back against your pillows, stretching out like she owns the place, which in some strange way, she kind of does. “It’s not about being easy; it’s about not caring so much.” She glances at you, her expression softening just a little. “You care about everything.”

You don’t know whether it’s the haze of the high or the warmth in her gaze, but something about her words hits you right in the chest. She’s right, of course. You care too much, about what people think, about doing the “right” thing, about all the expectations you’ve spent so long trying to live up to.

“You make it sound simple,” you murmur, half lost in your thoughts.

“That’s ‘cause it is.” Vada shifts closer, nudging you with her shoulder, a quiet reassurance in her touch. “You just need a little nudge.”

You turn to look at her, catching the way her eyes linger on yours, her smile soft but knowing, like she’s already seen all the things you’re too scared to let loose. For a second, the world feels like it’s made just of the two of you, drifting in your little haze, nothing else mattering.

“What?” you ask, your voice a little quieter than you meant.

She shrugs again, her eyes still on you. “Just thinking I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Happy. Unfiltered. You.” She grins, breaking the moment with that wild, charming smile that always gets you.

Vada's words linger in the air between you, sweet and intoxicating. You feel a flush creep up your neck, warmth spreading through your chest. Happy. Unfiltered. You. It's been so long since you've felt... well, anything other than the constant pressure to be perfect, to meet everyone's expectations. But here, now, floating in this strange, wonderful haze, it's like all those worries have melted away.

You turn onto your side, facing Vada fully. Her hair is splayed out across the pillow, eyes half-lidded and glinting with mischief in the soft light. She looks ethereal, almost glowing, like some kind of pixie from another world. Your fingers twitch with the urge to reach out, to touch, to see if she's real.

"Vada," you murmur, not even sure what you want to say, just wanting to give voice to the swirl of emotions rising up inside you.

She looks at you, head tilting slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah?"

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling shy, exposed in a way that has nothing to do with the clothes you're (mostly) still wearing. "Thank you."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise, but her smile widens, turning soft and fond. "For what?"

"For... this." You gesture vaguely between the two of you. "For making me feel... I don't know, alive again? Like there's more to life than just... existing."

Vada's expression gentles, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin. "You're welcome." She leans in closer, noses brushing, breath mingling. "You deserve to feel alive, you know. To actually live."

Your heart stutters in your chest, pulse thundering in your ears. She's so close, close enough to taste, to touch. Everywhere her skin meets yours feels electrified, buzzing with a strange, thrilling energy.

You jerk back, suddenly hyper-aware of how close Vada is, of the heat of her skin against yours, the softness of her breath on your face. Your heart's pounding, and it's not just from the lingering effects of the high. You press a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself, to catch your breath.

"I, uh..." You swallow hard, brain scrambling to form coherent thoughts. "I think I need some water."

Vada blinks, looking almost startled by your sudden movement. She sits up slowly, running a hand through her hair, dislodging it from its messy bun. "Oh. Yeah, sure. I'll get you some."

She moves to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but you're already standing, stumbling slightly as you make your way towards the door. "No, it's okay. I'll get it. Just... just give me a minute."

You don't wait for her response, practically fleeing to the bathroom. Once inside, you lean against the closed door, breathing heavily. Your reflection in the mirror is a mess - flushed cheeks, wild eyes, hair sticking up in every direction. You look like you feel - utterly unmoored.

What is happening to you? These feelings, these urges... they're so new, so terrifying. You've never wanted anyone like this before, never felt this overwhelming need to touch, to taste, to...

You can't even finish the thought, because the very idea of acting on it sends a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and terrifying. You're not ready for this. You're not ready for her.

Are you?

You splash cold water on your face, trying to clear your head, to reassert control over your body and your thoughts. But even as you do, you can feel the pull of Vada in the other room, drawing you back like a magnet.

With a sigh, you straighten up, adjusting your clothes and running a hand through your hair in a vain attempt to tame it. You can't avoid this forever. Eventually, you'll have to face her, face these feelings. And maybe... maybe that's not such a bad thing.

You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. The cold water has helped clear your head a bit, but your heart is still racing, your skin prickling with awareness. You can't avoid Vada forever - or these feelings. Whatever they are.

Squaring your shoulders, you exit the bathroom and head back to your room, steeling yourself for whatever comes next. Vada is still lounging on your bed where you left her, but she sits up when you enter, regarding you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Hey," she says softly, patting the space beside her in invitation. "You okay?"

You hesitate, torn between the desire to flee and the need to confront this thing between you. But in the end, you find yourself drawn to her, like always. You cross the room and sink down onto the bed, careful to leave a bit of distance between you.

Vada watches you, head cocked, a small smile playing at her lips. "So. You wanna talk about it?"

Vada watches you carefully as you settle onto the bed beside her. Her eyes roam over your face, searching, trying to read your expression. You can feel the weight of her gaze, the intensity of her focus. It's both comforting and unnerving, knowing that she sees you so clearly, even the parts of yourself you try to hide.

"I'm fine," you say automatically, but the words ring hollow even to your own ears. Vada arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. She scoots a little closer, the warmth of her body seeping into your side. Her hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, grounding you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" she says softly, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. "About anything. I'm here."

You swallow hard, throat suddenly tight with emotion. The sincerity in her voice, the earnest look in her eyes... it's almost too much. You've never had someone look at you like that before, like you're the only thing that matters in the world. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"I know," you whisper, squeezing her hand. "I just... I don't really know what I'm feeling right now. Or what it means."

Vada hums thoughtfully, her free hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Her fingers linger on your cheek, the touch feather-light but electric. "Maybe it doesn't have to mean anything," she murmurs. "Maybe we can just... feel it. Together."

Vada's hand cups your cheek, her touch gentle but firm, holding you in place. Her eyes search yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger you've never seen before. "We don't have to label it," she breathes, her thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "We don't have to plan for the future or worry about what comes next. We can just... be. Here. Now."

She leans in closer, her forehead resting against yours, breath mingling. Her free hand slides up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Can we do that?" she whispers, her voice low and rough with emotion. "Can we just... feel? Together?"

The world seems to narrow down to this moment, to the feel of her skin against yours, the weight of her gaze, the promise in her words. Everything else fades away - the past, the future, all the fears and doubts that usually plague you. In this instant, there's only Vada, only the ache building in your chest, the longing for something you've never dared to want before.

Your heart pounds in your ears, drowning out any rational thought. You know you should pull away, should put some distance between you and the temptation she represents. But you can't seem to move, can't seem to break the spell she's cast over you.

Instead, you find yourself leaning in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Your eyes flutter closed, lips parting slightly in anticipation. You're trembling, but it's not from fear anymore. It's from the sheer, overwhelming desire to feel her, to lose yourself in her, consequences be damned.

"Yes," you breathe, the word barely audible even to your own ears. "Please."

Vada's breath hitches, and then she's closing the distance, her lips meeting yours in a searing kiss that sets your very soul alight. It's clumsy and desperate, fueled by weeks of pent-up longing and the lingering effects of the high. But it's also the most passionate, electrifying thing you've ever experienced.

Vada's lips are soft and demanding against yours, her tongue tracing the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance. You open for her willingly, a small moan escaping as she deepens the kiss, her hand sliding into your hair, gripping gently.

Your own hands roam over her back, mapping the dip of her spine, the curve of her shoulders. You've touched her before, but it's never felt like this - charged with electricity, heavy with intent. Every brush of skin against skin sends sparks racing through your veins, pooling hot and insistent in your core.

Vada breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide with desire. "You're so beautiful," she murmurs, voice low and rough. "I want to touch you everywhere."

Her words send a shiver down your spine, arousal coiling tight in your belly. You nod, too breathless to speak, giving her silent permission. Vada's hands slide lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt, skimming over the soft skin of your stomach.

You gasp as her fingers brush the waistband of your pants, teasing, promising. Your hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more contact, more friction. Vada smirks, fingers dipping lower, cupping you through the fabric.

"Fuck," you whimper, head falling back as she starts to stroke you, slow and deliberate. It's almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain. You've never been this turned on before, never wanted someone so badly it hurts.

Vada's touch is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. Her fingers dance over the sensitive skin of your stomach, tracing patterns that make you shiver and gasp. When she cups you through your pants, you can't hold back the whimper that escapes your lips.

But even as the pleasure builds, you feel a flicker of fear. What if you can't perform? What if you disappoint her? The thought is enough to make your heart race, anxiety mingling with arousal in a confusing cocktail of emotions.

Vada seems to sense your hesitation. She pulls back slightly, searching your face with concern. "Hey," she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "We don't have to rush. We can go slow, take our time."

You nod, trying to relax into her touch, to focus on the feel of her skin against yours rather than the nagging doubts in your mind. Vada's lips find your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your pulse point. It's distracting in the best possible way, chasing away the last of your anxiety.

She takes her time exploring your body, hands roaming, mapping every inch of you. Her touches are reverent, almost worshipful, like she's memorizing your shape, committing it to memory. It's overwhelming in the best possible way, making you feel cherished, desired.

When her hand slips into your pants, you're already half-hard, aching for more. Vada's touch is deft, confident, stroking you with just the right amount of pressure. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans that want to spill out, desperate to maintain some semblance of control.

But it's a losing battle. With each stroke, each kiss, each whispered word of praise, you feel yourself unraveling, surrendering to the pleasure she's building within you. Your hips rock into her hand, seeking more, chasing the bliss that's just out of reach.

Vada smiles against your skin, speeding up her movements, her thumb circling the sensitive head of your cock. "That's it," she purrs.

Vada's fingers continue their sensual dance, stroking and teasing until you're a writhing, whimpering mess beneath her. The pleasure builds, cresting, threatening to consume you whole. But just as you're about to go over the edge, Vada pulls away, leaving you bereft and aching.

"Wait," she giggles, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think we forgot something important."

You blink up at her, hazy with desire, struggling to follow her train of thought. "What?" you manage, voice strained.

Vada grins, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "The lube, silly!"

It takes a moment for her words to penetrate the fog of lust clouding your mind. Then, abruptly, you remember - and you burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation hitting you full force.

"Shit!" you gasp, clutching your stomach as tears of mirth stream down your face. "Lube! Can't forget the lube!"

Vada joins in your laughter, collapsing beside you on the bed, both of you shaking with the force of it. It's a moment of pure, unadulterated hilarity amidst the passion, a reminder that even in the throes of desire, you can still find joy in the simple, silly things.

After a few moments, the laughter dies down, leaving you both breathless and grinning like fools. Vada props herself up on one elbow, looking down at you with a fond, amused expression. "Well," she says, still chuckling slightly, "I guess that's one way to take the edge off."

You snort, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. "Definitely. Though I'm not sure my heart can handle any more excitement tonight."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Vada purrs, tracing a finger down your chest. "I'm not nearly done with you yet."

Despite yourself, you feel a fresh wave of arousal at her words, your body responding eagerly to her touch. "Is that so?" you tease, arching into her hand.

"Mm-hmm." Vada leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark with renewed desire. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, the lube."

She rolls off the bed with exaggerated slowness, her movements slightly uncoordinated in a way that's endearing rather than clumsy. You watch her rummage through your nightstand, biting your lip to stifle another bout of giggles.

Finally, Vada emerges triumphant, brandishing a bottle of lube like a trophy. "Ta-da!" she announces, striking a dramatic pose.

You can't help but laugh again, shaking your head in affectionate exasperation. "You're ridiculous," you tell her, even as your heart swells with fondness.

"And you love it," Vada retorts, crawling back onto the bed and straddling your hips. She leans down, her face inches from yours, eyes shining with mirth and desire. "Now, where were we?"

You smile up at her, reaching up to cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "I believe I was about to make sweet, sloppy love to me."

Vada's grin widens, turning wicked. "Mm, I do love it when you talk dirty."

You shift positions, gently guiding Vada to lie back against the pillows. She goes willingly, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watches you through half-lidded eyes. You take a moment to appreciate the sight of her spread out before you, hair fanned across the pillow, skin flushed and glowing in the soft light.

Slowly, almost reverently, you lift the hem of your oversized shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it aside. Vada's gaze rakes over your body, appreciative and hungry. You feel a thrill run through you at the intensity of her stare, the raw desire in her eyes.

You shimmy out of your pants, kicking them off the bed, leaving you bare and exposed. Vada reaches for you, but you gently push her hands away, wanting to be the one to touch, to explore.

You reach for the lube, slicking your fingers, before trailing your hand up Vada's thigh, pushing her legs apart. She goes readily, opening herself to you completely.

You circle her entrance with a fingertip, teasing, before slowly pressing inside. Vada gasps, her back arching off the bed, a moan spilling from her lips. Her walls flutter around your finger, hot and tight, drawing you deeper.

You work a second finger in alongside the first, scissoring, stretching her. Vada rocks her hips, meeting your movements, urging you on. Her hands find your shoulders, nails digging in, anchoring herself to you.

"Please," she pants, voice high and needy. "I need you."

Vada's words send a bolt of pure need straight to your core. She's so honest, so open in her desire, and it only fuels your own. You can't wait another second to be inside her, to feel her wrapped around you, skin to skin.

You quickly slick your cock, positioning yourself at her entrance. Vada looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, trust, and something deeper, more profound. In this moment, she's giving herself to you completely, body and soul. It's both thrilling and humbling.

With a slow, steady pressure, you push forward, breaching her, feeling her tight heat envelop you inch by delicious inch. Vada's breath hitches, a sharp gasp escaping her lips at the initial stretch. Her hands grip your shoulders, blunt nails digging into your skin.

"Wait," she manages, voice tight with strain. "Go slow."

You pause, swallowing hard, fighting the urge to thrust deeper, harder. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, to be gentle. Vada's comfort, her pleasure, is all that matters right now.

Vada's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as you push forward, her inner muscles fluttering around your length. It's a tight fit, almost uncomfortable, but the discomfort is quickly overwhelmed by the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of being inside her, skin to skin, heart to heart.

"Fuck," Vada whimpers, her hands scrabbling at your back, nails digging into your skin. "You feel so big."

The praise goes straight to your head, making you feel powerful, desirable, like the most attractive person in the world. You want to preen, to crow, to show off for her. But more than that, you want to make her feel good, to give her the same pleasure she's giving you.

So you start to move, slow and gentle, rocking into her with shallow thrusts. Vada moans beneath you, her legs wrapping around your waist, urging you deeper. You comply, increasing your pace, your depth, until you're buried to the hilt inside her.

The sensation is indescribable, like coming home, like finding a piece of yourself you never knew was missing. You feel complete, whole, like you were always meant to be here, now, with her.

Vada clings to you, her face buried in the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin. Her hips rise to meet yours, matching your rhythm, driving you both towards the edge. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together fill the room, obscene and erotic, spurring you on.

"Harder," Vada pants in your ear, her voice ragged with need. "Please, I need more."

You comply, picking up the pace, thrusting into her with deep, powerful strokes. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall, but you barely notice. All that exists is Vada, her body, her touch, her pleasure.

She cries out, nails raking down your back, leaving stinging trails in their wake. The pain only heightens your arousal, pushing you closer to the brink. Your balls tighten, your cock throbbing inside her, signaling your impending release.

Vada's walls flutter around you, signaling her own peak. "I'm close," she whimpers, her legs tightening around your waist. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You can feel her body tensing, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. You reach between you, finding her clit, rubbing tight circles. Vada keens, her back arching off the bed, her inner muscles clamping down on your cock like a vice.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," she babbles, her words dissolving into incoherent moans. "Oh god, oh fuck, I'm gonna... I'm..."

Her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body shaking, convulsing beneath you. The feel of her coming undone, the knowledge that you brought her to this peak of pleasure, is enough to push you over the edge.

With a guttural groan, you bury yourself deep inside her, your own release pulsing through you in hot, intense waves. You collapse on top of her, spent, boneless, your face buried in her neck.

For a long moment, you simply breathe, trying to come down from the high of your shared climax.

—

The classroom is abuzz with the usual chatter of students, the scratching of pencils on paper, the occasional cough or rustle of notebooks. You sit at your desk, focused on the lesson, trying to ignore the lingering ache in your muscles from your recent activities with Vada.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Vada stumbles in, her hair disheveled, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She's wearing the same clothes from last night, rumpled and wrinkled, and you can smell the distinct aroma of weed wafting off her.

The teacher pauses mid-sentence, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Miss Cavell?" he questions, his tone a mix of confusion and mild reprimand.

Vada blinks, her head tilting as she tries to process the question. "Huh?" she mumbles, her words slurred.

A few of your classmates snicker, exchanging knowing looks. Whispers start to circulate, speculating about Vada's state and the reason for her disruption.

You feel your face heat, a mixture of embarrassment and fear. What if someone figures out what you and Vada have been up to? What if word gets out about your... activities?

The teacher clears his throat, his gaze flicking between Vada and the rest of the class. "Perhaps you'd like to share with us what's on your mind, Miss Cavell?"

Vada giggles, the sound high and slightly manic. She sways on her feet, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, stifling another burst of laughter.

The tension in the room is palpable, everyone waiting to see what she'll do next. You hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest, praying silently that she'll keep quiet, that she won't say anything to expose your secret.

The teacher's eyes narrow, his patience wearing thin. He gestures to the door, his tone firm. "Miss Cavell, I think it's best if you leave and return when you're feeling better."

Vada's head snaps up, her eyes focusing on the teacher for the first time. She blinks, a slow, lazy smile spreading across her face. "But I just got here," she pouts, her words slightly slurred. "I don't wanna leave."

A few more snickers ripple through the classroom, the other students amused by Vada's antics. The teacher, however, is not impressed. He points to the door again, more insistently this time.

Vada sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She turns to leave, but not before her gaze lands on you. “Can I grab Y/N for a few seconds?”

The teacher hesitates, his brow furrowing as he considers Vada's request. The classroom falls silent, everyone holding their breath, waiting for his decision.

After a long moment, he sighs, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine," he relents, his tone grudging. "But make it quick. We have a lot to cover today."

Vada grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She saunters over to your desk, her hips swaying, her steps slightly unsteady. She leans down, her face mere inches from yours, her breath hot against your skin.

"Hey there, gorgeous," she purrs, her voice low and seductive. "Wanna ditch this boring class and come have some fun with me?"

Your heart races, your palms sweating as you try to formulate a response. You glance around the room, seeing the curious and disapproving looks from your classmates, the stern disapproval on the teacher's face.

But despite the potential consequences, you can't help but be drawn in by Vada's magnetic presence, her infectious energy, her promise of adventure. You feel yourself nodding before you can even think better of it.

Vada's grin widens, her eyes lighting up with triumph. "Perfect," she whispers, her hand sliding down your arm, her fingers intertwining with yours. "Let's blow this joint."

Before you can change your mind, she's tugging you to your feet, leading you towards the door. You can feel the weight of your classmates' stares on your back, hear the murmurs and whispers following you as you leave.

But all of that fades away as soon as you step into the hallway, the door closing behind you with a resounding thud. Vada pulls you close, her arms wrapping around your waist, her face buried in your neck.

"That was so hot," she murmurs, her words muffled against your skin. "Watching you squirm, knowing what we did last night... Fuck, I'm getting turned on just thinking about it."

As Vada pulls you close, her body pressed against yours, you feel a flicker of excitement mixed with apprehension. The thrill of sneaking away, of doing something forbidden, sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins. But before you can fully give in to the moment, a sharp voice cuts through the air.

"What's going on here?"

You jump apart, your heart leaping into your throat as you turn to face the principal, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. Vada, on the other hand, seems completely unfazed, a lazy grin spreading across her face.

Fuck.

[seniasworld]

It's Been Three Weeks ...

(this post is simply to get my own thoughts and feelings regarding Liam Payne's death out. skip if ya don't care. <3)

It's been three weeks since Liam Payne has passed, and I am still having a hard time wrapping my brain around it. I am an old Directioner, as I discovered the boys and their music when I was about 14 or 15 and I adored them up until Zayn left the band. I remember being so shy about the fact that I, a teenage girl, was influenced to adore these 5 boys who were also teenagers at the time. Thankfully, I realized that it isn't a bad thing to find some sort of comfort in strangers, and no, I was not part of the group who failed to respect their privacy and boundaries as fellow human beans. I loved them dearly and unfortunately, cut that shit off once I had bigger life things to worry about.

About three months before the news of Liam's death, I had finally committed to deleting thousands ...thousands of memes and pictures that came with being a Directioner during their prime. I had so many photos that I hadn't even looked at in years taking up space in my drive and I had do either pay for more digital storage (lmfaooo yeah right) or delete things I didn't need anymore, so that's what I did. Oddly enough, it was kind of a relief to get rid of 99% of those images, as I really felt it was a nice way to reconnect with that part of my life without shame or guilt, but appreciation and love.

However, I received the news of his death from the only Directioner friend I stayed in touch with all these years. The same friend I stayed up all night with, talking about the boys, waiting for songs to release, crying on Skype together when the wind slightly shifted in our little world. The only friend who I committed to meeting in person multiple times throughout our lives. She sent me a news clip on TikTok and girl, when I tell you my hear sank ...shit was SUNK. I didn't want to believe it, so I didn't. I was in such a great state of denial and shock that I couldn't even find it in myself to have empathy. All I wanted to do was prove that it was some misinformation or some stupid prank. I guess that's one way to cope, right?

Anyway, the teenage girl in me was devastated. I instantly recalled certain posts that were made either on here or on Twitter back in the 1D days that talked so much about how we would miss these days and they would pass us by so quickly and before we knew it, we would be grieving the loss of one of our boys after going so long without being so obsessively invested in their lives. I couldn't believe that we were losing one of them so soon. I couldn't stand the fact that I felt guilty for not being more invested than I have been in each of their music careers, even though I shouldn't. Really, I was just surprised at the fact that an influential part of my childhood ...or rather, teenage years, was just gone and it took his passing for me to realize the impact they all had.

I considered myself a Harry girl, and iykyk, us girlies were in the trenches, but my point with this is that I still loved all the boys. I don't know if I can truly express it, but watching their interviews, performances, vlogs, interacting with them on Twitter even though I was lost in the sea of fans, even just listening to their voices in their music was comforting. I appreciated so much that these boys were told from the very beginning that they wouldn't be successful and then they just blew it out the water. I appreciated so much that even though they were put together as a last resort and even lost X-Factor, who they were as people was what caught our attention as fans. For me, they were a safe space. For a lot of us, they were physical evidence that creative, funny, and compassionate people exist and that they can be boys/men. For a lot of us, they were simply all we had to get through each day.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend that some of the news that surrounds Liam was always positive. In fact, I was kind of mad at him for my own reasons for a bit before he passed. But the fact is, his presence in the band was crucial and so heavily valued that you didn't even have to be a 1D fan for his death to impact you in some way. His voice was beautiful and the way he carried himself compared to the other boys, especially when they were younger, was unique and powerful. I am so sorry that this has happened to him and I am so hurt for those in his life who actually knew him and loved him personally. I wish it didn't take death for people to realize that compassion, patience, and accountability go so fucking far no matter who you are and what you do. I wish he was in a different situation that would have never allowed for him to go the way he did.

I want to remind you, if you are still reading this, to understand that mental health takes a huge toll and informs our thoughts and behavior. Addiction is indicative of one's inability to face themselves. And let me ask you: how many people do you think you are wiling to face when you struggle to face yourself?

We must be kind to others, but more importantly, we must be kind to ourselves. It's okay to make mistakes. Mistakes do not make you a bad person, and holding yourself and the ones you love accountable IS an act of love that will benefit the world around you.

I think this is all I have on the matter, for now. I am still quite sad, as I have experienced personal losses this year alone, so my heart goes out to those who have also been effected by Liam's unexpected passing.

If you ever want to chat or share any thoughts, follow and shoot me a message. I'll be around.

Goodnight. x

Yesenia

[serdtse]

//