#AND HIS GAZE AND EYELASHES! SO MAGNETIZING I FEEL LIKE I’M BEING PULLED IN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seitmai · 10 months ago

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

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

Urgh what a cute first little interaction 🥰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💔💔💔

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

Too kind and too caring 🥺😭

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

They are gonna do it together 🥹

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

I'm crying 😭 he's just so sweet 🥹

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

I can't with this sweetness 🥹😭🥰

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

😭🥹😭🥹

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

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

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

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

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

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

🥺🥺🥺

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

Getting lost in thoughts about kissing Robert Floyd is relatable 🤭

I love what they have 🥹

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

He's the best 🥺

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

I can't with him 🫠🥰🥹

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

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

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

I had tears in my eyes reading this 🥹🥰

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

This!!!🥹🫶🏻

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

That's like a friendship superpower tbh

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

I love the little group they have 🥰

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

🥺🥺🥺

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

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

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

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

🥰🥰🥰

Haha he's so real for that

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

Jodie hahahah a true little sister move 😅

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

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

👀😉😏

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

And we adore that little shy consistency

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

🥺🥺🥺

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

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

Hahaha Mickey 😂

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

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

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

🥰🥰🥰

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

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

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

No words, just sobbing happy tears 😭🥰😭🥰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So thoughtful, I love it

🥰🥹🥰🥹

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

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

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

A WAITING GAME

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

word count: 20,135

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The days without his presence were much harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can see!”

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

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

“Definitely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure you will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course! Go ahead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bobby would be your closest confidant for another Christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never had to wait long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guys, I’m not sure it’s a good-”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. You exchanged glances with Rob.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As you wish.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Congratulations!

…pleased to offer you…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From: [email protected]

Hello, my love!

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

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

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

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

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

Love,

Bob.

To: [email protected]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love,

Hometown Girl.

From: [email protected]

Good morning, Randle,

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

Thanks,

Robert Floyd.

From: [email protected]

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

Love,

Bob.

To: [email protected]

It’s alright, enjoy your lock lol.

Love,

Not Randle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist: @withahappyrefrain @seitmai @winelover27 @shinzowosasageyoooo

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rnm-magic-space-xsd · 3 years ago

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Credits : Myssdark (Twitter)

#Lucifer #Obey Me #Lucy💗Ri #GHH #😍😻🥵😳🫣🫠 LUCI IS SO HOT #WANNA KISS LUCI SO MUCH THAT MY HEART IS BURSTING WITH FIREWORKS FOR LUCI #LUCI LOOKS SINFULLY DIVINE #I LOVE THAT LUCY IS OUR WOLF PET #HIS TONGUE LOOKS LIKE LAVA #THAT’S HOW HOT YOUR ART OF LUCI IS AAAA #AND HIS GAZE AND EYELASHES! SO MAGNETIZING I FEEL LIKE I’M BEING PULLED IN #THE SUNSET VIBES GIVE SUCH A ROMANTIC FEEL TO THIS WORK OF ART

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matchabears · 2 years ago

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notes on falling in love

pairing. alhaitham x reader (feat. kaveh) synopsis. it’s in the little things, really. wc. 1k themes. angst, unrequited pining, modern au(ish) because i barely give any description lmao, this is mostly about feelings, feelings tw, alhaitham is a robot science man allergic to the human spectrum of emotion now playing. hoax by taylor swift note. the way i’m shit at writing angst but am incapable of writing anything else

“you don’t like me very much, do you?”

alhaitham pauses, in the middle of shelving the stack of books in his arms. he doesn’t look down, but he can see you blinking curiously up at him in his peripheral.

he’s relieved that he’s at the very top of the ladder, so you don’t notice the way his fingers tighten around the spine of the book and how he has to shift his weight so he doesn’t lose his balance. when he opens his mouth to respond, he draws in a shaky breath.

“i have no reason to like or dislike you,” he responds curtly. “so long as you do your job properly.”

that’s right, he has no need for such useless sentiments; he’s a man of science after all. flowery language and cursory emotions are a waste of energy and all detract from his ultimate goal of pursuing concrete, infallible knowledge.

so he steadies himself and climbs down the ladder, ignoring how tightly his heart constricts when he sees you smile.

it’s just an organ.

“i guess i walked right into that one,” you grin before nodding towards the stack of books in his arms. “need help with those?”

“no,” he simply says, pulling the ladder to the other side of the shelf. with his back turned to you, he’s much more at ease. if he can’t see you, then he can’t find another attribute of yours to commit to memory.

you don’t listen, though, because you never do. instead, you snatch the books from him and climb the ladder yourself before he can react.

“what are you doing?” he furrows his brows.

“trying to get on your good side,” you hum.

“is this why you’ve been following me around all day?” he sighs.

you wince sheepishly. “was it that obvious? i thought i was being pretty subtle.”

alhaitham, with traitorous eyes trained to notice and analyze every little detail, follows the movement as if it had a magnetic pull, dragging his gaze across your features. he drinks in the color of your eyes, the slope of your nose, the flutter of your eyelashes, the glow of your skin, and the tinted sheen on your lips like he were studying a textbook on astrophysics.

but it would be amiss to compare you to any branch of science, he supposes. sciences produces results, logic, and answers.

you are loud and obnoxious, ironic for someone who works in a library. you are a hindrance more than help to most of the daily tasks, cutting down productivity by at least fifty percent with your chattering and penchant for distraction. you are person with a naturally alluring disposition that draws people in. you are able to speak to patrons of the library with a charm that seems mystical to him. you are a warmth that only exists in the confines of fantasy. you are everything he finds to be a waste of time in a person, and you are everything that he is not.

you are the only anomaly he can’t solve.

“you are many things, but subtle is not one of them.”

that makes you laugh, and the ladder, as old and rickety as it is, trembles just like the stupid organ that is his heart. as if it were a reflex, alhaitham reaches out his hand and steadies the ladder.

it’s a pointless gesture, really. him holding the ladder still doesn’t eliminate the risk of you falling. yet, he grips the wooden material so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“is it so wrong of me to want to be friends with my new boyfriend’s roommate and also my co-worker for way longer than that?” you whine.

what ridiculous titles, he thinks to himself. he and you can barely even be regarded as acquaintances, but you’ve somehow found a way to establish a connection. alhaitham doesn’t even want to be acquaintances with you, most certainly not friends.

he despises that you are almost nothing to him. why couldn’t you be something or just nothing? you’re almost. almost something and almost nothing all at the same time. that gray area makes him feel, feel, feel—that damn word—like he isn’t in control; it’s an ugly, dark sensation that coils in the pit of his stomach like a venomous snake.

“i don’t want to be friends with you,” he chokes out, a desperate tinge to his voice that he hopes you don’t notice.

“well, i’m a lot more stubborn than you think, so just you wait,” you reply in a teasing manner.

a muscle in his jaw spasms just as someone calls out your name, sparing him from having to respond.

alhaitham watches as your face, the one he’s been enraptured with since the moment he’s laid eyes on you, lights up with an expression that he will never be able to bring out of you.

you hurriedly climb down the ladder, your conversation with him long forgotten, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“kaveh!”

logically, it makes sense that you ended up with kaveh. he leads with his heart instead of his head, he lets his personal attachments get in the way of rationality, and he’s a person that will consider your feelings first and foremost. and above all, he has the capacity to love you.

love, a mere chemical defect of the brain. love, needless self-sacrifice for a temporary high. love, a concept that alhaitham will never understand.

the way you smooth out the non-existent wrinkles in your shirt,

the way you aimlessly fidget with your fingers and bounce on the balls of your feet,

the way you drink the can of black coffee he hands you even though you dump at least five spoonfuls of sugar in your normal cup,

the way you suck on your bottom lip to hide the bitterness and smear away the lip gloss you put on especially for him,

the way your breath hitches when he laces your fingers through his and brings your knuckles to his lips,

the way you look at kaveh just like how alhaitham looks at you.

“you don’t like me very much, do you?”

no, he doesn’t.

#genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham drabble #genshin angst #genshin alhaitham #genshin fanfic #alhaitham #drabble #genshin impact #matchabears

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kenneth-omega · 3 years ago

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The Fear of Falling in Love

// Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 //

Kenny Omega Short Fic

** UNEDITED 27/08/22 **

Pairing: Kenny Omega x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a family friend of The Young Bucks who, like Matt and Nick, also became obsessed with wrestling from a young age. During Kenny’s absence from screen you were sourced into AEW by the Bucks and brought into the Undisputed Elite faction. Following the recent fall out between Adam Cole/reDragon and the Bucks over the upcoming Trios tournament you finally get to meet the great Kenny Omega. You eventually become locked into a storyline that starts out fun and harmless but soon turns sour at the prospect of real feelings being hurt and relationships tarnished.

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO A TAGLIST IN FUTURE PARTS WHEN THEY’RE POSTED PLEASE LMK

Warnings: swearing, SMUT (18+, at the end of the chapter, minors please keep ya innocent eyes away, i’m fuckin’ serious), unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT PLS), p in v, light oral (f receiving), choking, spitting kink, praise kink, masturbation (F and M), degradation kink (a lil’), size kink if you squint, dom!Kenny.

Word count: 6.3K (a mega pint chapter)

A/N: we finally getting the FUCK TIME in this chapter brother, nearly a 1/3 of this chapter is smut i’m so sorry. hope you’re all enjoying the story!

Taglist: @unlikelyandrogynousghost @crowleysqueenofhell

For Reference:

“The Young Bucks” Matt and Nick Jackson are Matt and Nick Massie

Your nerves spike to an all time high when Adam’s music hits, the crowd cheering loudly as he and Britt make their way out of the left tunnel.

Taking a second to rearrange your outfit, you feel a hand gently fall against the small of your back.

“You okay, doll?” Kenny’s warm voice does nothing to still your nerves, the pet name he seems to have adopted for you only serving to make you more jittery.

“Peachy.” You exhale, trying to mentally run through the match that you and Kenny had constructed yesterday. Britt and Adam had joined you later on in the afternoon to discuss and share ideas, but were pleasantly satisfied with the story you and the Cleaner had crafted.

Kenny rolls his eyes, scoffing as he turns to face you. “Liar. You’re such an open book, it’s like I can always tell what you’re thinking.” His curls are extra bouncy tonight, jiggling at the slightest movement as he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. A comfortable silence falls between you both, seemingly unable to take your gaze away from each other.

With your nerves at a temporarily still you can’t help but draw closer to him, once again feeling that magnetic pull of his, enticing you into him. “So…what am I thinking now?” You ask softly, looking up at him through your eyelashes, unable to help the flirtatious tone in your voice.

For a second you could’ve swore that you hear Kenny’s breath catch in his throat, a devilish twinkle appearing in his eyes. As he opens his mouth to return your flirtatious teasing with some banter of his own you both jump simultaneously, Battle Cry suddenly blaring throughout the venue.

There’s a guy with a headset on stood by the steps, yelling over the music to you both.

You both ascend the stairs, your focus now solely on the match ahead of you.

Although you know that the Elite haven’t officially turned face, the two of you walk out from the opposite tunnel, to thunderous cheers. Kenny is in full character, his swagger and confident demeanour shining through.

The two of you are matching in your gear, with you having found a black, tight top with a heart-shaped cutout across the chest and long sleeves to match his compression shirt. In addition, Kenny is wearing black wrestling tights, with electric blue lightning down both legs. You have a black and blue tartan skirt to co-ordinate with him, and have tastefully added the same pop of blue into your eyeshadow tonight.

Finally you have your own leather jacket, not long like Kenny’s, but you’ve once again taken to DIY-ing it, using a silver marker to write “Alpha & Omega” on the back section, which you now turn around to show off proudly, seeing it plastered all over the large screens above you. Perfect.

With the pyro finished Kenny grabs your hand and gives you a twirl, catching you by the hip with his other hand and pulling you in close.

Convincing yourself that this is just for show and none of it matters outside of work you cup his face gently with your free hand, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, turning away from the camera so as to give you a little privacy.

It earns you both a massive reaction from the crowd.

You can’t be certain what with all the stage lights going, but his face looks as though it’s tinged red as he grins sheepishly at you. You pull away and begin to make your way down the ramp, full of the same confidence that Kenny often exudes on camera. You feel weightless, giddy and ready to get down in the ring and give these people a fight. You blow Adam a kiss from the other side of the ring as you ascend the steps, poking fun and hoping to pull further noise from the crowd. It does.

You look back to see Kenny following after you down the ramp, doing his trademark shit talking to the camera. He leans in as he points up to you and you know it won’t be picked up by the mic, but you can see his lips move as he proudly announces “that’s my fuckin’ girl”.

It stings to know that it’s all for show, but you have zero time to dwell on the fact of the matter, savouring his words instead but knowing full well that it would come back to haunt you tonight when you try to sleep. His possessive tone would forever be imprinted in your mind.

When he joins you in the ring, discarding his jacket, you take a moment to absorb the scene before you.

In your eyes this was it. You’d finally made it to somewhere you wanted to be, somewhere you felt truly happy. You were about to wrestle Adam Cole and Britt Baker, alongside someone who meant a lot to you.

With the referee between you, ensuring no altercations would take place before the bell rang, you pat Kenny on the chest, nodding for him to take the outside of the ring, putting yourself in first.

Britt, never one to back down from a challenge, kisses Adam before he exits the square, turning to face you with determination written all over her face. The crowd roars again before they start to settle, ready for the promise of a killer match.

Kenny leans over the ropes, grabbing your arm before the bell is about to ring. He looks you directly in the eye, his face serious.

“Show ‘em who we are, doll.”

With his final words, you focus on Britt, ready to orchestrate the perfect brawl.

You both start out with some bitchy slaps, getting in each other’s face and shoving each other roughly as chants begin out in the crowd. Over her shoulder you see Adam watching intently, calling words of encouragement to Britt. Without warning you punch her in the jaw, spinning her around to face her boyfriend and, with her arms locked by yours, you pull her backwards with breakneck speed into a Snapdragon Suplex.

Adam is on the ropes instantly, shouting indignantly at the referee and hurling insults. Kenny is applauding you in your corner, seemingly proud of your perfect homage to one of his signature moves. You’d practiced a lot of these yesterday together, with Kenny flinging you around the ring countless times over and over to get you used to it.

You return your attention to Britt, throwing her into the turnbuckle in your corner, before rolling forward to give yourself the distance to run full pelt into her, twisting mid jump so your elbow connects with her sternum.

Britt shoves you away from her, going for a pump kick which you narrowly avoid, causing her to stumble forward. You get cocky, channeling the same energy as Kenny, taunting Britt to come for you again. She declines, retreating back to Adam to make a tag. As he enters you walk backwards, not needing to look as you outstretch your open hand, feeling the sharp slap as Kenny tags himself in.

The crowd are alive at the reality of Adam Cole versus Kenny Omega happening in front of them. You can’t stop from feeling the same way.

The next five minutes consists of some rapid back and forth, with Kenny eventually starting to flag as Cole gains the upper hand. As he goes to give Omega the Panama Sunrise you hop the ropes, Britt diving in to stop you from interfering.

Cole hits his move, quickly shifting to make the pin afterwards. You manage to Irish Whip Britt in their direction, causing her to collide with Adam and break the pin for you before Aubrey, the referee, has chance to make the third count. You drag Kenny back to your corner as Britt and Adam regain their footing, with Britt retreating back as Adam stalks forward.

Before he can reach you, you force a tag by leaning over and slapping Kenny’s shoulder as he rests in the corner, still pretending to be dazed. You quickly climb to the top rope, executing a perfect splash onto Adam before rolling off him. Kenny is out the ring finally and you pull Cole to his feet, slamming a knee into his gut so he’s hunched over. You take a run and bounce off the ropes, sprinting and hitting him with a perfect running knee that sends him crumpling to the floor.

Britt is beckoning at Adam to make a tag, leaning as far over the ropes as she can. You roll Adam in her direction with a shove from your boot, beckoning her to make the tag.

“Let’s go bitch!” You shout over the noise of the audience, feeling all the pent up stress and anger of the past couple of days bubbling to the surface. You’d never take your frustrations out on anyone, but you decide to use that energy and put it all into this match.

As the two of you lock up you can’t help but think of everything that’s happened recently, the whispers backstage whenever you walked by, the endless stream of shit from Twitter, the constant questions from your friends. It was exhausting and annoying.

For the next few minutes you and Britt wrestle your asses off, with the DMD matching your ferocity as you battle it out. You attempt a Tope Suicida at one point, with Kenny sitting on the ropes to make the gap larger for you, decreasing the risk of getting caught and landing flat on the outside. Eventually Britt gets you in a prime position for the Lockjaw, bringing her gloved hand to your mouth.

As she pulls on the lower half of your mouth you feign almost tapping out, the crowd deafening as cheers and chants of encouragement mix in with boos angled towards the heels. Instead you clamp your head down, biting on her fingers hard, which causes her to release her grip on you, cradling her hand and nursing the sore digits.

You crawl to Kenny and reach out, making a quick tag to let him finish off the match with Adam.

The two men collide in the ring. With his stamina regained, Kenny wastes no time in finishing up the match, providing his own Snapdragon to Cole with perfect execution before he pulls out the V-Trigger. With one last push, Adam is up on Kenny’s shoulders and down for the One-Winged Angel. You run into the ring and spear Britt as she goes for the save, the referee slamming his hand down for the three count and calling for the bell.

The audience erupts when the bell sounds the end of the match. You discreetly check Britt is okay with a gentle hand squeeze before leaving her, letting her crawl to Adam and mourn their loss.

You’d just beaten the fucking IT couple of AEW!

Kenny is sat in the ring, taking a moment, his back leant up against the ropes. You can see he needs a second by the look the two of you share as you near him, so you get down to his level, pulling him in for a hug as you rest on your knees in front of him, nuzzled between his legs. The public display acts as a short delay, allowing Kenny to recover some more. You can feel his slightly laboured breathing underneath your hands as they lay flat against his back. Kenny’s warm and inviting arms wrap you up, pulling you in closer as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck, his beard tickling the exposed skin.

“Well done...and thank you.” You mumble into his shoulder, wanting to keep your face hidden away from those pesky cameras.

Kenny’s fingers snake up into your hair, gripping onto the locks gently. “I think I should be thanking you, for agreeing to this crazy story and for putting up with my crazy antics.” He praises you in your ear, the words like beautiful music that resonates deep in your heart.

With that he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours for second, his eyes closed as you both sit and absorb the moment together.

Then he’s back to being TV Kenny, the one that brings the swagger and the cocky attitude as he gets up to his feet to much awaited cheers, pulling you up with him.

You both allow Aubrey to raise your arms up in the air, Kenny wincing slightly at the movement.

With the final goodbyes to the crowd you head backstage, going straight to the shared locker room where the Bucks and Brandon await your return.

Matt hugs you first, complaining in a typical older brother-esque style about how you’re sweaty and need to get a shower. You roll your eyes and shove him off you playfully, choosing to ignore the fact that he’s probably right. This is the type of bullying you’re used to from them, having grown up down the road from the Massie family back in California, where you first got in a wrestling ring that they’d built with their father together.

Nick ruffles your hair fondly, always having been the softer of the two. The youngest brother never stopped following you around when you used to go to their house to play together with them and their other siblings. Their older sister liked to tease and say Nick fancied you when you were back in middle school, although he never admitted it. You never believed it anyway.

“What’s the plan then guys? I say we go out, maybe find an arcade, grab some decent grub then call it a night before we head out for Ohio tomorrow!” Matt rambles, pulling out his phone to no doubt begin searching for the nearest arcade centre.

You don’t feel like you’re in any position to go out, instead craving the shower and bed back in your hotel room. Kenny looks over at you expectantly, as though waiting to see whether you were going to agree.

“I’m gonna call it a night I think guys, but seriously go out and have fun. Especially you, you deserve it.” You point at Kenny, before picking up your bag and coat, ready to call yourself an Uber back. You wouldn’t be staying till the end of the show like normal, feeling far too exhausted to stick around for another hour or so.

You exit the locker room, leaving the rest of the Elite to go party and enjoy their evening. As you saunter down the corridor, the cheers of the crowd echoing through from behind you, your phone pings with the notification alerting that your ride is here.

Picking up the pace you get outside, knowing there won’t be many people loitering as everyone is still inside for the show. Your lift pulls up in front of you, popping their boot open to allow you to dump your stuff in the back. As you circle back round the car to get in the back you hear your name being called, turning to look back at the venue front doors.

Kenny comes jogging out, his bag looped over his shoulder and a hoodie on, still in his wrestling gear like you.

“Kenny?” You laugh, unsure why he’s even out here. “What are you-”

“I bailed on the guys. I don’t fancy going out tonight either, so I wondered if maybe you wanted to uh, watch some movies...with me?” He’s slightly out of breath after having sped through the arena to catch up to you. You nibble on your bottom lip as you ponder over his offer. It was dangerous to let yourself spend more time with him alone.

Already you were struggling to keep up the mirage of a “fake couple” without it bleeding into your actual life and emotions. This wasn’t just kayfabe to you...it felt real, and it hurt just the same when you thought about it ending.

With a sigh, you nod, giving him a weak smile in response, already knowing you’re beyond help. You don’t want to fight it anymore, so you accept that there’s nothing you can do about how you feel about the man before you. With that, you may as well enjoy the time with him that you have before it somehow ends up in flames.

---------

Once at the hotel you grab an elevator together, Kenny selecting the floor. It’s on the same as yours handily enough, meaning you can grab a shower and change.

As you exit into the corridor you stop by your room, going to unlock the door, Kenny following after you.

You turn around in the doorway and halt him in his tracks with a hand on his chest.

“What’re you doing?” You laugh, seeing his confused face.

He frowns. “What are you doing?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m getting a shower, something which doesn’t require you to be in here. I’ll stop by your room when I’m done.”

There’s a dark glimmer in his eye at the mention of a shower and he smirks, seeming to have humoured himself with something.

He walks backwards, out of the doorway to your room, and as he turns to leave he looks back at you, his eyes giving you a once over.

“Text me if you change your mind.” He hums, leaving you stood contemplating whether it’s worth chasing after him and pulling him into your room. Grinning like a schoolgirl that just had their crush say ‘hi’ to them, you reign your desires in and instead shut the door.

As you stand beneath the hot spray, washing the ring grime off, you wonder if all this flirting is simply just a way for Kenny to keep you invested in the story, leading you on like some love-struck puppy. Those horrible thoughts slowly start to creep in, telling you that none of this is real, it’s just fake. That Kenny wouldn’t ever really want to be with you. All this, it’s a lie. You’re just living out a fantasy of yours but soon it’ll come to an end.

Feeling sour at the thought you leave the shower, shivering in the bathroom as you stand there naked, your arms wrapped around yourself.

What were you doing here really?

Playing Mr and Mrs for the camera until Kenny or Tony decide to ditch the act for something bigger, like Kenny’s next title run? Inevitably leaving you heartbroken and pushed aside.

You grab a towel and leave the bathroom to dry off, contemplating just getting into bed and letting the covers swallow you into a deep sleep.

With no energy to try and make yourself look decent, you throw on an oversized tee that swamps you, the hem falling past your pyjama shorts to your mid thigh.

When you exit your room, taking care to peek out and check the corridor first for any pesky Bucks or others, you scoot across to Kenny’s door, knocking lightly.

He opens the door to you, curls still wet from his shower as little droplets fall from the strands and drip onto his taped up body. He’s yet to put on a shirt, only in some basketball style shorts, so you get your first full view of him post-recovery.

He still appears as though carved by gods, but you notice a softer edge to his curves, the only seeming telltale that he’s been off for a while aside from all the tape wrapping him up. A few droplets run down his chest, trickling slowly across his lightly tanned skin. You clench your legs together, thighs rubbing slightly for some much wanted friction as you drink in his appearance.

“Want to come in?” He offers, stepping aside and opening the door wider to let you go past. You note how tidy the room is, thinking back to your own room that is a current stay of disarray. The bed is neatly made, with some DVDs spread out at the end for you to peruse.

“Take your pick, I won’t be a minute, should probably finish getting dressed.” He smiles sheepishly, catching his reflection in the mirror he passed by, which sends your heart pounding.

“Honestly don’t feel like you have to cover up in front of me, you should feel as comfortable as possible.” You assure him. Picking up one of the cases, you pop the disc into the TV’s box.

Kenny sidles up behind you, peering over your shoulder to see what you decided on, his fingers grazing over your hip as he leans in against your back. It takes all your inner discipline to not roll your hips back automatically, resisting the want to grind up against him and still the ache between your legs.

“Good choice.” Is all he says, not furthering in his advancement on you, despite his dancing fingers. You nibble your lip in frustration, needing distance from his touch in order to recalibrate and reign in your wants and desires.

“I’ll be back, we’re missing something important.” He informs you, heading for the door, the weighing pressure on your chest finally lifting, allowing you to release the breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding.

“W-what?” You stutter slightly, brain still slightly foggy from the cloud of lust enveloping it.

“Snacks!” Kenny beams, his face a picture of genuine excitement, that soft side to him you’d only seen a couple of times shining through.

With that he leaves the room, still shirtless mind you, closing the door so that you’re left standing alone in his room. Looking around, unsure what to do with yourself, you pull out your phone and text Ethan quick.

C: You around tomorrow? x

Ethan doesn’t take long to reply, obviously bored and messing around on his phone.

E: Off 2 film a new toy vlog once we reach Ohio, want 2 join? Hayter, Mark and Danhausen coming 2morrow x

You want to speak to Ethan alone and although a toy store isn’t the place you had in mind you figure that this is likely the only way to get a moment to speak to your friend. The next two weeks leading up to All Out were due to be hectic.

You type back a response quickly before Kenny returns.

C: See you tomorrow, need to talk about something URGENT x

E: Anything I should b worried about? x

Bless his sweet nature, you thought, unable to not smile at your friend’s genuine concern for you.

C: Just need a friend to talk to x

The front door opens and you look up to see Kenny has returned with his spoils. Share bags of various sweet things and some little bags of popcorn, plus a few cans of Coke and Sprite.

You go over to help him, his hands full as he struggles to open the door fully.

“Where did you go?” You laugh, taking a few of the things from his arms and locking the door behind you both as he dumps it all on the bed.

With a wolfish grin he kicks his shoes off. “Raided the vending machine!” He tells you before hopping onto the bed and patting the space next to him. “We need a lot of snacks if we’re gonna watch them all.” He gestures with the TV remote to the short stack of DVDs you’d put to the side.

“Wait we’re watching them all?!” You backtrack on his words, wanting to make sure you heard him right. His hand still rests on the bed where he beckoned you to sit.

“Well this is a movie night. I figured we watch till we’re tired.”

You contemplate for a moment whether or not you’re really going to be able to focus on these films for the rest of the night whilst sat next to him, as your mind seems to have it’s own agenda at the moment.

Fuck it.

You jump onto the bed beside him, propping the pillows up so you can rest back on them.

Kenny switches the room lights off and the two of you settle in for the first movie.

Not long into it Kenny stretches himself out, one arm coming up to rest behind his head as the other rests on the waistband of his shorts, his thumb hooked underneath. You attempt to ignore it, knowing he’s just getting comfortable, but can’t stop yourself from taking a moment to imagine what lies in those shorts.

Your core throbs at the thought and you have to resist the urge to slip your hands into your shorts just to get some satisfaction and curb the craving want in your stomach.

“Something wrong?” Kenny asks you earnestly, noticing the way you’ve stopped watching the film and seem to be staring off into space, your mind elsewhere.

Shaking your head you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to calm yourself down. Kenny nods understandingly but his curiosity is definitely peaked as he watches you leave. Once inside the bathroom, the cool tiles underneath your feet, you turn on the tap to the coldest setting and stand there for a moment as it runs.

You don’t think you’re going to last around him. All this pent up sexual frustration is starting to seriously have an impact on you, to the point where you can’t even sit next to the guy without wondering what his cock looks like.

Worst of all, he seems oblivious to it, in typical male fashion.

You cup your hands under the cold stream and splash your face with water, relishing the startling wake up call it provides you. A few drops run down your front, dampening your t-shirt and the cold sensation makes your nipples pebble beneath the fabric. It’s fine though, because your head feels much clearer for it and you can think straight again once more. A couple more handfuls for good measure and you then dry off your face with the hand towel.

As you open the bathroom door and go to leave you’re nearly frightened to death when you find Kenny leaning against the wall next to you, arms folded across his broad chest.

“Jesus, Kenny! You just scared the fuck out of me.” You gasp, resting a hand on your chest, heart pounding beneath your palm. Kenny’s eyes wander down to your chest, seemingly distracted for a moment. He clears his throat after a few seconds.

“Everything okay?” He asks you sincerely, his hand subtly shifting down to his shorts, gently resting over his crotch as though he were hiding something. The TV in the background continues to run, with neither of you having even bothered to pause it. You bite your lower lip as you nod.

Kenny brings a hand up to your chin, tilting your head upwards and exposing your neck as he leans in. His nose grazes your jaw as his lips lightly dance across the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You’re such a terrible fucking liar.” He whispers softy, before his teeth nip sharply at your throat.

Fuck.

“K-Kenny-“ You stutter quietly, unsure how to respond to his actions. It’s not like you weren’t enjoying it.

“I hope you know just how hard this has been for me.” He murmurs across your skin. You look down as far as your eyes allow you from your current position, just about able to see his spare hand palming himself through his shorts. A significant outline of his cock is visible through the fabric and you swallow heavily. He’s certainly not small.

“For you?” You echo, thinking about how wound up Kenny has made you these past few days. Your legs squeeze together as you slowly grind your thighs. Kenny removes his hand from your chin and slaps your legs, forcing them apart.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He growls, his hand moving up to cup your pussy, the tips of his fingers grazing over your clothed hole. “You’re such a tease.” He groans, the heel of his hand pressing into your clit, earning a breathy gasp from you.

“Then why don’t you put me in my place and just fuck me already?” You ask him boldly. Kenny’s head pops up so that his eyes are level with yours. His pupils are blown with lust and there’s none of that usual sparkle to them, instead having been replaced by a dark glimmer that promises pleasurable hell.

“Since you asked so nicely, doll.” He grins, both his hands reaching for your ass to pull you up off your feet and into his arms. With your legs wrapped around his waist your pussy is pressed flush against his rock hard cock, which nudges your clit with every bounce as he moves you towards the bed.

He throws the covers aside, the snacks and drinks going flying onto the floor as he clears the space to put you down.

You loosen your grip on him as he pulls away from you, his hands gripping your knees and spreading your legs apart.

“Get these off.” He demands, glaring at the shorts which still cloth your throbbing core.

You oblige willingly, wiggling yourself out and pushing them down your legs, kicking them off the rest of the way with your feet. The cold air of the bedroom hits your heat and makes you shiver, your nipples hard as they press through your t-shirt.

Kenny opens your legs once more, drinking in the sight of your glistening cunt as you lay bare for him. You notice a patch of precum that’s soaked through his shorts, an instant tell of how aroused he is.

“Now your turn.” You tell him, eager to see that delicious cock free from its restraints. He chuckles darkly, something which you don’t like the sound of.

“Patience. You’ll get my cock soon enough. But right now I want to have some fun. Let’s see how long we can hold off making you cum, hm?” He suggests, slipping further down the bed so his face lies level with your wet folds.

“Kenny, please I-ahh!” Your head falls back mid sentence as the warm and pleasant sensation of Kenny’s tongue swirling your clit hits you suddenly. Your hand reaches down to grab a bunch of his curls, tugging in retaliation. The sharp pain causes him to lift his head, glaring at you.

He crawls back up to you and presses his soft lips to yours, stilling your stubbornness for a moment. As you both deepen the kiss, Kenny’s hand slips down your stomach and presses between your folds, two fingers slipping inside of you without warning. You let out a gasp, your mouth open against his.

“That’s what you get for acting like a brat. Do it again and I won’t leave you able to walk.” He snarls, spitting in your mouth before he forces your mouth shut. “Swallow.” He commands you.

You do so willingly for him.

This seems to impress him as he smiles down at you. “Good girl.”

The praise from him alone is enough to send you light-headed.

“Fuck yourself for me, pretty girl. I wanna see how you touch yourself on those nights when all you desperately wanted was my cock filling up this beautiful cunt of yours.” He sits back on his heels, waiting and watching as you obediently follow orders.

You’re too hot in your shirt so you throw it off without further consideration, needing the cool air to bring you down off this sex-drunk high.

Without hesitation you reach a hand down between your thighs and begin to play with yourself, teasing your hole as your spare hand toys with your now free breasts. Kenny watched avidly as you fuck your fingers in and out slowly, your eyes half closed in lust-filled bliss.

“Kenny…” You moan softly. As you continue to pleasure yourself you watch as he dips a hand into his shorts, pulling his cock free. The sight nearly makes your throat run dry. How the fuck was he going to fit that in your tight hole?

Slowly he pumps his shaft as he watches you, running a thumb over the tip to collect the precum that had beaded out, using it to coat his cock.

“God, I could just cum watching you get yourself off over me, you needy slut.” He groans, his free hand coming to grip a hold of your knee.

You nod in agreement, already feeling your high start to build.

Kenny narrows his eyes at you as he watches your face change to become more concentrated.

“If you cum I won’t fuck you. So don’t even think about it.” He growls at you, fucking his fist with more vigour as his aggressive behaviour only riles him up further. You whine needily, hating the idea of losing your current momentum. “The only time you’re cumming tonight is around my cock, when I tell you to.”

Swallowing hard, you turn your concentration to holding off the impending orgasm in the pit of your stomach.

A couple more minutes go by as Kenny groans, complimenting you in every way imaginable. Your pussy, your pretty fingers as they disappear in your hole, the way your tits bounce slightly with each thrust.

“Enough.” He finally tells you, letting you remove your slick fingers from your swollen and throbbing cunt. “I need that tight hole around me.” He grunts, pulling his shorts off fully and fixing himself between your already shaky legs. He lifts one of them over his shoulder, sizing up his large cock to align with your pussy.

Without further warning, he presses his head in, slowly moving inch by inch to fill you up with his throbbing shaft. The stretch stings but isn’t unpleasant as he finally, eventually, bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck.” You both moan at the same time, eyes locking as you cast each other slightly fucked out smiles. Kenny takes a second before he moves, savouring the tight, warm feeling.

Once the tender moment has passed he’s back to himself, the cocky, dominating character that you’re all too familiar with. With a snap of his hips he pulls out nearly the whole way before slamming back into you, a sharp slap of skin against skin echoing in the room. The TV continues to run the film, providing some background noise.

He repeats the action again, relishing how your pussy milks him, taking every inch. He starts up a harsh rhythm, ramming himself into you at a furious pace. Unrelentless and unforgiving, he furthers the motion by leaning into you, the angle shifting so that he can hit deeper. His face hovers above yours, curls bouncing with each movement, as he watches you. With each rotation of his hips you have to fight to stop your eyes rolling back into your head.

“You’re close aren’t you?” He asks after a short while, feeling you start to clench tighter around his cock. “Hold off, princess. I promise you’ll cum, but only when I say so. Can you do that for me?”

You nod weakly, but he raises an eyebrow at you.

“I need words doll, tell me you can hold on like a good girl. Let me savour your wet, hot cunt just a little longer.” He slightly groans at the end, a signal to you that he’s close to his own orgasm.

“Yes.” You agree.

“Yes what?” He growls, his pace picking up. He grips your throat with one hand in warning. Each thrust nudges your clit, sending fire through your stomach.

“Y-Yes…sir.” You gasp, feeling his grip slowly tighten, playing with your oxygen flow, the light headed sensation making you fuck-drunk.

Kenny pumps into you some more at the same unforgiving pace, his stamina clearly not affected despite you both going at it consistently for a while now. It’s only when his tight, controlled thrusts become sloppy that you realise how close he is.

“Fuck-“ He hisses, the hand currently gripping your thigh moving to rest above your clit, his thumb pushing down on the sensitive bud and rolling tight circles over it.

“Kenny, I can’t-“ You choke out, feeling the familiar hot burn in your stomach as he continues his pace.

“Let go princess, cum for me and get your sweet juices all over my cock. Be good for me and show me how much you wanted this.” He encourages, slipping in and out of you with such ease now. You had adjusted so well to his swollen, thick length that he couldn’t help but praise your resilience.

You stop trying to fight off your orgasm, instead meeting each of his thrusts with your hips, the movement putting additional pressure on your clit.

“I-I’m gonna…” You groan, unable to finish your words as Kenny pushes you into your orgasm, continuing to fuck you through the intense waves of pleasure as your hands reach for something to anchor to, finding his back and digging into the hard muscle. The feeling brings a hiss of pleasure and pain from him, edging him over as he too rides out his orgasm, a low moan coming from the back of his throat as he thrusts a few more times into you for good measure. His cock throbbing as he thrusts his thick ropes of cum into you.

Kenny flops forward, his arms supporting him so as not to fall directly onto you. His eyes remain closed for a few seconds as he regains his composure, before opening them and meeting you with a tired, fucked-out smile.

Unable to say much at the moment, trying to reserve your remaining energy, you return the smile.

He leans in slowly, careful not to move too quick, and presses a soft, tender kiss to your swollen lips that you’ve bitten red raw.

“So much for professionalism, huh?” He jokes, relieving you both of the post-fuck tension that had followed.

151 notes · View notes

thegryffindorprincess · 5 years ago

Text

Unforgettable//Draco Malfoy x Reader (SMUT)

A/N: Hi Lovelies! Working through my requests and stuff one at a time and love this one! Draco’s a little OOC, but it’s saucy and smutty and that’s all you Draco whores are here for, also including some platonic hermione x reader, enjoy x

Set: Golden Trio Era

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: smut, drinking, swearing, choking

“It’s not good enough for me, since I’ve been with you”

“One fire whiskey on ice for you my love.” Draco grinned, passing Astoria the plastic cup from the table he’d just filled with her favourite drink, producing the ice from the tip of his wand. She giggled and settled into his side, letting his arm fall around her shoulders lazily. He would’ve like to say the way they stood, pressed together felt right, but it didn’t. Her bones didn’t quite slot into his properly and he stood a little awkwardly under her touch. Never the less, Draco placed a kiss to her forehead and observed the scene. Slytherin always held the best parties, that was common knowledge, especially for celebrations like OWLs. The room was decorated in silver, the streamers and balloons glistening in the pale light that always glowed from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Every student from the fifth and fourth year was attending, not wanting to miss out on a chance to celebrate properly before school and life became much more serious. As Draco and Astoria took their seats on one of the emerald green sofa’s, students began to dance, Blaise tapping his wand to the speaker positioned above the fire place, letting muggle music boom around the room. He attempted to shake off the longing looks coming from some other girls in the room, Pansy attempting to catch his gaze from the dance floor, Sally-Ann twirling her fingers in her hair at the drinks table and Tracy who was trying hard, too hard, to make eye contact with him from the sofa opposite. Draco simply kept his eyes pinned to the entrance way to the common room, as a distraction. Astoria was pining over him at his side, drawing his eyes away from the door to pull him into a kiss. As she did so, he heard the door open and most of the chat that had been filling the room stop suddenly. He glanced up to see Y/N, Hermione, Harry and Ron enter the common room, laughing amungst themselves. Everyone began to whisper or discuss in hushed voices how incredible Y/N Y/L/N looked tonight, as the four of them stepped in confidently, smiling at each other at their impression.

“Wow.” Tracy Davis exclaimed spinning back round in her seat to face Draco and his gang who were all looking over at her, “she looks incredible.” Draco simply hummed through his lips, face blank. He watched closely as the golden foursome walked over to the drinks table, pouring their chosen beverage into plastic cups, Hermione making the ice swirl into intricate patterns in their drinks. The chat soon returned to normal, giggles errupting from corners of the room every few minutes. Draco sat with his hands pressed together, finger tips resting on his chin, watching Y/N’s every move. You see, the reason all of this was pissing him off, causing his face to knit into a scowl was because it had only been two months since they’d stopped seeing eachother, Y/N spinning him some bullshit about how she needed to focus on the golden trio and not him. And well, nobody rejects Draco Malfoy. He’d tried in the beginning to win her back, leaving her expensive gifts outside her door, persuading some first year minions to send her letters on his behalf, all of which she’d rejected. Then it turned nasty. Draco ended up fucking half of the girls in slytherin, attempting to make her come and talk to him, even if it turned into an argument. But she didn’t, she simply scoffed when Goyle would shout about loud Draco and Pansy’s sex was in their dorm room, roll at eyes at the hickeys adorning Sally-Ann’s neck and laugh with Hermione about his persuit of Tracy. What pissed him off the most though was how completely unbothered Y/N was acting, as if they’d never even spoken before.

“Draco what’re you staring at?” Astoria asked, Draco suddenly becoming aware that his eyes were burning holes in Y/N, his gaze unbreaking.

“Nothing.” He responded blankly. “Nothing important at all.”

XXX

Y/N held Hermione’s hands in hers as they danced on the floor together, being some of the only students who recognised the muggle songs that were playing. She loved when Hermione got drunk, her usual up-tight personality disappearing revealing a very care free one instead. Y/N herself could feel the alcohol rushing to her head as she twirled her best friend round in a circle below her, Hermione bursting into a fit of giggles when their hands became twisted and got stuck in an awkward position.

“I am going to go to the toilet.” Hermione suddenly announced, unlinking her arms from Y/N’s and staggering away towards the stairs.

“Hang on a minute,” Y/N said, following her giggling, “I’ll accompany you.” Hermione nodded quickly, holding Y/N’s hand as they climbed the marble staircase up towards the girls toilets.

“Such a good friend to me.” Hermione slurred as Y/N opened the toilet door for her, promising to hold it closed from outside for her. She laughed at Hermione’s drunk clinginess, listening to her babbling’s from the hallway. Just as she got comfortable a hand holding the door firmly shut, she heard footsteps coming in her direction.

“Sorry, the toilets occupied, you might have to wait.” She called out. To her slight shock, Draco appeared at the top of the stair case, gaze magnetic, jaw clenched. “Oh.” Y/N murmmered, awkwardly looking down towards her feet, the music from the common room still pounding the walls of the hallway.

“That’s not a very polite way to greet me Y/L/N” Draco smirked, watching how Y/N still crumbled a little under his stare. “Problem?”

“Not at all, just wondering what you want with me.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, unbothered. He stepped closer.

“Just wanted a chat.” She swallowed as he moved increasingly closer, his cologne already making her throat close.

“Thought you were a bit busy for a chat.” Y/N grimaced, moving closer to the wall and further from him. “You know, you look a bit busy chatting with Astoria,” She sent him a warning look “and Pansy and Tracy and Sally-Ann.” Draco chuckled at her feisty tone.

“Jealous?” He teased, twirling his family ring around on his finger, looking darkly at her through his eyelashes.

“Hardly.” She scoffed. But he could tell she was lying from the way she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Well you might be pleased to know,” Draco began closing the gap between them with a few large strides, one of his pale hands coming up to stroke her cheek, “It’s not good enough for me, since I’ve been with you.” Just as Y/N went to respond, Hermione ermerged from the bathroom. She awkwardly glanced at the situation, mouth opening and closing like a fish before walking back wards towards the stairs.

“I-I’m gonna go,” She stammered, turning and running down the staircase, “I think I heard Ron calling for me.” Both Draco and Y/N watched her leave, Y/N cursing her best friend for not taking her with her.

“Where were we?” Draco began again, his hand returning to her cheek. “Oh yes,” He moved his head closer towards hers, her breath getting caught in her throat, “and it’s not going to work for you either, this stupid arrangement.” Y/N scoffed again, this time rolling her eyes.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” This time, Draco’s hand trailed it’s way from her cheek to her throat, squeezing just gently enough that she began to squirm.

“Because nobody can equal me.” Then he closed the gap, his lips pushing against hers, causing her to moan slightly as his teeth bit on her bottom lip. “No more games princess,” he cooed, “tell me what you want.” Y/N grabbed onto his back needily, moving closer to his ear so that she could whisper in it.

“Just fuck me Malfoy, you know it’s what we both need.” He growled then, attacking her neck with his mouth, carrying her on his front down the hallway to his dorm room, opening the door effortlessly with his free hand. He barged into the room, striding straight to his bed, laying her down roughly, so that her legs were dangling off of the edge and she was on her back. Draco growled again when her dress rode up just high enough so that her panties poked out underneath, his dick hardening with every new inch of flesh he got to see.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, watching how she squirmed every time his finger tip touched a new part of her body. He took off her dress, discarding it carelessly to the floor, unbothered about where it went. Then, he hooked his fingers in her thong and yanked it down, watching how she gasped when the cold air from the room hit her. He grinned as he stroked her slit with his fingers, making her let out a string of profantities and his name. “God, say my name again princess.” He hissed as he inserted a finger inside of her, pumping it in and out roughly.

“Draco!” Y/N exclaimed, eyes squished closed as he inserted a second finger into her pussy, She moaned loudly as he sped up, his other hand coming up to her clit, rubbing it in a way that made her hands shoot to his hair, pulling at it. “Don’t stop,” She cooed, making eye contact with him finally, “please don’t let it stop.” He grinned at her pleading but complied, continuing his movements until her shaking legs gave way, her cum wetting his fingers. He pulled them out after her climax before placing them into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Sweeter than honey.” He announced, standing up and pulling her so that he was above her. She simply whined as he undid his belt swiftly, pulling out his cock, letting it spring free. “God,” He whispered as he lined himself up with her entrance, “nobody takes this cock like you do.” Draco pushed himself in, making her hiss with pleasure as she took him. He began to thrust into her, the slight curve of his dick hitting the spot inside of her that made her writhe in pure pleasure. “None of those stupid little whores take this cock as good as you princess.” He muttered into her ear as one of his hands came up to snake around her throat, his mouth peppering kisses on her forehead. “Whose my best girl?”

“Me!” Y/N moaned out, feeling his dick reach places that nobody else could, no matter how hard they tried. “I’m yours Draco, I’m yours.” He grunted out at her words, never so pleased to hear the phrase. He continued to hit her G spot over and over again causing her legs to start shaking again. “Dray I’m gonna-”

“I know, I know, let it princess.” He cooed at her gently, moving a strand of hair out of her face as it contorted into an “O” shape. Her legs began to vigorously shake then and Draco could feel her walls tightening around him. “Oh shit, I love you Dray, I love you.” She cried as he felt her cum. He growled into her ear at her tightness, letting his thrusts become sloppy inside of her.

“I love you too.” He moaned into her ear as she felt his cum release inside of her all at once, causing him to collapse on top of her in exhaustion. Y/N sighed happily as he moved off of her to fall at her side. “Can’t believe you spent two months ignoring me just to tell me you love me.” He smirked, fake gasping when she began swatting his arm.

“You said it back after fucking half of slytherin.” Y/N replied defensively, melting into his arms as Draco pulled the covers over them, snaking his arms around her waist, pulling her into him, kissing her neck gently.

“Yes but nobody compares to you Y/N, never will.” Draco whispered gently, feeling any tension in Y/N’s body melt underneath him. “You are absolutely unforgettable.”

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years ago

Text

Broken trust, pt.2

Part one

Summary: Too quickly does the Darkling find his rogue Sun Summoner, but his arrogance will cost him.

Warnings: slight fluff, angst

==========================

Faith – Y/N’s floated away from her a very long time ago, like a leaf being pulled away on the tide, and into the sea to become lost and alone, likely drowned. But she had faith in Aleksander. She always trusted him, not doubting he’d protect her. That’s why this is much more painful than it had to be.

“Running doesn't matter, I'll hunt you down if I have to.” Kirigan spoke through gritted teeth, as if he knew she could hear him, feel the palpable anger and betrayal he struggled to contain.

And still she ran. She ran without looking back, cutting through the forest with her breath caught in her throat. She ran, flinching with branches leaving cuts across her face, but she couldn’t stop. If she stopped, he’d find her and if he found her, Y/N didn’t know if they’d both walk away unharmed.

Finding a cave, she ventured inside. She sat curled up against a wall, shivering in the darkness. She clutched the kefta she wore in Little palace, clinging to his already faded scent. Just hours ago, his arms were wrapped around her, his lips claimed hers. She was his, undoubtedly in love with the very man who turned out to be the enemy.

A sob escapes her, whimpering as her hand covers her mouth to assure her silence. Risking being found because she needs to cry is stupid. Aleksander would expect her to cry.

“Where have you been?” The Grisha asks, breathless as it seems.

His presence alone commands awe, respect and his charisma can make any human stop and forget what they’re doing so long as it pleases him. He is magnetic, electric, someone you can get lost in before knowing what’s happening.

“Answer me.” He insists, lower his head to her level. His eyes narrow at her quivering lips, just then realizing she’s shaking.

“Leave us!” He orders the Grisha who came running once the light reached them outside the tent.

He taps her shoulder, the air around them turning static with contact, “What is happening?” Her shaky voice sounds and his eyes soften.

“You truly don’t know?” Raising an eyebrow, the Grisha steadies Y/N before letting her go. “My name is general Kirigan and you”, he points at her, his forehead wrinkling momentarily, “are the Sun summoner.”

A breathless chuckle escapes her, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m a map-maker.”

“No”, Kirigan raises an eyebrow. He steps closer, his hands gripping her arms gently, “You are a Grisha.”

Swallowing thickly, her eyes flood with tears. One by one, they make tracks down her cheeks, stunning Kirigan.

“You need not worry”, wiping the tears off her left cheek with his thumb, Kirigan smiles softly, “I will protect you.”

Huffing, Y/N shakes her head. “I never should have trusted him.”

Suddenly, she felt her airways constrict. Gasping for air, she clutches her chest, unable to breathe or think clearly. Darkness etched into her vision, blurring it until there was nothing left. She felt her mind drift, the last she heard was a whisper she once adored.

“I’ll carry her back.” Aleksander states, his eyes never moving from her. He didn’t expect to find her, especially not as quickly as he did, but the ring she wore lead them straight to her location. Once again, she trusted the wrong person and once again, it brought them closer together.

Upon his return, he had laid her on his bed, hoping to speak to her somewhat peacefully this time around. If she could just feel the way his heart aches for her, maybe then she’d believe him he’d never do anything to bring her harm.

Groggy, Y/N groans. Her hand moves to her forehead, rubbing her temples.

“You’re safe”, Aleksander tells her, but the sound of his voice made her open her eyes wide, sitting up so quickly her vision blurred.

“St-stay away!” She pushed herself back, hitting the headboard.

“I won’t hurt you. I saved your life." Kirigan leans in, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"How? By taking my freedom, mind and identity?" She snaps at him, her nostrils flared with frustration and anger bubbling up to the surface.

"The chains are broken now.” Kirigan sighs, “You know the truth.” Wetting his lips, his eyebrows knit together, “Are you really free?"

Shaking her head, she narrows her eyes at him, "You are still my captive, no matter how beloved you once were."

Giggling, Y/N stumbles back and into the table. A few figurines fall to the ground, but it doesn’t seem to phase Aleksander who smirks as he rests his hands at each side of the table, essentially trapping her.

Raising an eyebrow, she looks up at him, batting her eyelashes. “Are you about to ravish me, oh sweet Darkling?”

Chuckling, he cranes his neck just enough for the tip of his nose to brush hers. Hearing her inhale sharply and hold her breath, Aleksander couldn’t help but peck her lips. It felt innocent enough, something that wouldn’t scare her but would satisfy his need to feel her closer to him.

“Don’t go looking for trouble, sunshine”, his lips twitch, amused how her hands have clutched his hips, pulling him closer to her.

“Maybe I like trouble”, she whispers, breathing heavily so much so he could count each and every breath passing the lips he wished her could kiss for an eternity, uninterrupted.

Biting her lower lip, her hand rests on his left cheek, caressing the scruffy beard with her thumb. “Come on, Darkling”, she teases, “What are you afraid of?”

“You”, he responds without a second thought. His response came so quickly, catching Y/N off guard. “I’m afraid of loving you”, he exhales through his nose, his clenching under the palm of her hand before he speaks again, “Afraid of losing you.”

“Please”, crosses his lips and Y/N’s heart skips a beat. Aleksander is a man of many virtues, but begging wasn’t one of them. He’s the man who demands and makes things happen. Such men don’t strike you as someone who plead often. And this was Aleksander pleading, asking her to do something irrational, to trust him, the only thing she couldn’t do.

“What could you possibly say to make this okay?” She swallows thickly, averting her gaze as if looking at him for too long could destroy her very essence.

"They called me the Darkling as an insult. You were the only one who used it as a term of endearment." Aleksander reaches for her hand, but she pulls away once again. “Let me put your mind at peace.”

Pressing her lips, she exhales through her nose, “You made me into a weapon. I'll never find peace.”

“I didn’t make you into anything”, he remarks, “You were born as my equal, to be my other half.”

Nodding to herself, she swipes her thumb under her left eye, “I sure feel like your equal now”, glancing at him she bites the soft flesh on the inside of her bottom lip, “You can still do the right thing. I believe there is a good person inside of you. The man I fell in love with must be somewhere underneath the darkness you're flaunting. Be him.”

His eyes narrow, clouded by his own sorrow, “It's too late to go back. You can't even look at me.” Standing, with his back turned on her, Aleksander allows tears to fill his eyes, “Do you even love me?”

“Of course I still love you, but trusting you is a different question.” With a heavy sigh parting her lips, she stands too. “You can’t force me to stay with you and expect unconditional love. That’s not how this works.”

Blinking fast, Aleksander refused to look at her. All she’d see is his weakness – his feelings for her have made him soft, too easily swayed by emotions and he mustn’t reveal it.

“You can’t catch sunshine, my dearest Darkling”, she wraps her arms around his waist. Resting her right cheek on his back, between his shoulder blades, she pulled him into her embrace, “You need to let me go and find my own way.”

“You’d be dead by nightfall.” He snaps, trying to push her off but she holds onto him even tighter, silently weeping.

How can she stay when every cell inside her body is screaming for her to leave? How can she leave when every single molecule she’s made up from is aching for just one more touch?

“If you love me, you’ll have to trust me”, her voice is shaky, unsteady as she feels. “Staying will make me resent you. I need some distance, time.”

“I can’t”, he shakes his head, wiping his tears away before she can see any.

“Then I need you to remember”, her hold on him lessens.

With a frown etched on his forehead, he turns to her with a lump at the back of his throat, “Remember what?” His words rip through her like glass shards do to skin, but he can barely tell if she’s shaking because he’s started to tremble himself.

A smile breaks on her lips, just as bright as the light she once emitted to contrast his. “Remember I love you.”

And once again, without a warning, Aleksander found himself on his knees.

He didn’t love her, he desired her most of all. He desired her gaze on him as desperately as the air he needs to breath. He desired her skin against his as the food he’d need to live. He desired her lips to speak his name in ecstasy more than the water as he thirsted for her light more than anything else in this world.

And in his desire for her he had lost himself entirely. He had lost his cold exterior, becoming putty in her hands. He had lost his ruthlessness he planned to aim her way, directing it to any and all who’d harm her. He had lost his resolve to stay away, so he’d give into her with all he is.

So with that desire and the loss of him, he hated her for all of it. He hated her with burning passion. He hated her so much it consumed him.

Or so he told himself so. For in the end, he did nothing to push her away.

He couldn’t.

Not now. Not ever.

Logic demanded him to stop her, but his entire logic went out the window the day he found her in his tent, stealing his grapes. He’s no longer a part of the living anymore either. She’s become his cornerstone and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, it didn’t change. It’s become factual.

He didn’t hate her, not even a little, not at all. Aleksander Morozova, Aleksander Kirigan, The Darkling, the unforgiving general, the Black Heretic, the Shadow King – all of him loved all of her, even as she had put a knife through his heart. The very heart that beat for her was now bleeding because of her. A betrayal, he realized, the very same as she had felt when she learned of his lies.

“We will see each other again”, she croaks, her tears crashing around him.

Gasping for air, he desperately fights the pain so he can keep his eyes open longer. This might not kill him, but it will slow him down. This time around, she’ll run and as she takes off the ring, he realizes it won’t be so easy to find her again.

She kisses his lips, so softly he’s unsure if it’s a well crafted dream.

“Moya lyubov'”, he manages to say as she stands and heads to the door. He can’t speak, but he’s screaming on the inside, hoping she’d look back at him. If she does, there was hope.

Reaching for the knob, Y/N sighs, glancing over her shoulder at her Darkling with unimaginable pain tearing her apart. But sometimes you have to break in order to create something more beautiful. She knew he’d hate her for it, but she walked out the door anyway.

PART 3

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone #aleksander kirigan #aleksander morozova #aleksander x reader #kirigan x reader

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lena-imzadi-221b · 4 years ago

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Yup welcome to the club of I've got long multi chapter fics simmering in my head but I saw a thing, heard a song and oops my fingers slipped....

Fingers slowly travelled from his back to his side, grabbing a handful of his white dress shirt as Lando seemed to hold on for dear life. They were standing close, too close. His whole right side was engulfed by a tipsy Lando, his eyes impossibly close. Those glazed over big colour of the universe eyes staring right into his soul. He took the dare presented to him as he watched Lando's mouth fall open lazily, tongue darting out, licking...waiting.

"Dios mio Lando! Ok, my turn. What does love mean to you. The word, the feeling?"

The younger man frowned, swayed against him, grabby fingers letting go of his shirt, landing on his lower back, drawing circles with his fingers, tapping, stopping, holding on again. Did he realize he was being so extremely touchy...with him no less...in a club full of random drunk people...in almost darkness hidden away in a private corner behind a curtain where the deep beats filled him up and made this whole situation seem even more ridiculous. How did they end up behind a very soft velvet curtain anyway?

"Love? I guess it's about wanting to do everything together, sharing and accepting to feel really comfortable with each other. To make each other smile when life sucks, to want to see their love in their eyes like you just gave them the moon you know. Wanting to be with someone even if the world would be against it, even when it's...a feeling of warmth and feeling safe with them...but sometimes it hurts so much cause you want to be with them and you love them so much it hurts cause you can't...."

The words were almost pleading, yearning. For what? Or even who?

Lando blinked, frowned, shook his head and before Carlos could ask more, felt Lando's soft curls brush half his face, hot breath against his cheek, neck. "What is love to the great muppet Carlos Sainz?"

Without warning Lando's lips and nose pressed against his cheek, arm around his neck and he stumbled back as a couple had danced into the thick curtain and bumped into them pushing Lando against him. Carlos wrapped an arm around Lando's waist to steady him as the couple yelled a giggly drunk apology through the curtain and moved away. "Wow sorry, they just-" But Carlos shook his head and smiled, squeezing Lando against him before letting go.

Like a magnet Lando was back sticking to his side, no wandering hands this time, he was fidgetting. A question. Waiting. Oh right. "So love ey. To me a bit the same as you very elequently said-" that got him a snort from the younger man with a smile nonetheless and twinkling eyes on top "- it's also about filling someone's empty spaces. Wanting to hold onto someone. It's not about taking and keeping, it's about letting go and see what comes back. Providing a place where you can be yourself and the other person doesn't have to be afraid to be the person they are, even when they are not at their best. And when they are not you want to do everything you can to fill those places that are lacking so they can become their best. And you do that willingly for as long as you can and as long as you are allowed to be by that person's side."

Lando's looking at his hands, his adams apple going up and down and Carlos has to lean closer to hear what he says.

"If that is love to you then...you love me." His voice due to the music was still loud but it sounded so far away and when Lando's eyes meet his, Carlos is stunned into silence. He couldn't look away, stuck in a trap he laid out for himself. Slowly, he reached out for Lando, fingers tentavily grabbing onto the other's fingers. Grabbing harder, pulling Lando even closer to him. He kept his gaze sharp, focused and nodded. "I do."

Lando's eyes widened, lips parted just slightly. There it was. Hanging between them. No going back.

"Thank you."

Ok. That wasn't the response he was expecting. Who says 'thank you' after a decleration like that?

He felt Lando take a shaky breath, hands squeezing his. He'd somehow forgotten he was still holding Lando's small hands. "Sorry, that's not-" Lando gestured between them with his hand now leaving his hand limp by his side. He's sorry for what? His response? What was going on between them? Regrets? Leaving? Not what?

Lando's voice cracked as he tried again but tears well up in his eyes, Carlos felt him shaking all over. Instinctively Carlos reached over and wrapped his arms around Lando. He feels the tug of his shirt as Lando clenches his fists at the fabric at his sides and the weight of Lando's head as he hides his face into the crook of Carlos' neck. Eventually he felt Lando wrap his arms around him too, stepping so close there was no more space between them. He felt him take a deep breath and he had to concentrate to hear Lando over the loud music.

"Carlos, you are an amazing person, you're so talented, you're such a good driver, better than you think, so much better than anyone gives you credit for. Being your team mate those two years have been the most rewarding thing I've ever done in years. Ever. The best time. I owe you so much. So much. Why do you keep up with me? Why me?"

Carlos sighed into Lando's hair. "I told you, because I love you."

"I know." Lando murmered against his collar bone, he felt lips against his neck.

Carlos' love is like Agape. It's selfless. It is about giving and doing for someone else, even if time would bring it to an end eventually, even if there's no payoff. Lips pressed against his cheek, the corner of his mouth and Carlos turned his head slightly and felt Lando's lips, gently, on his. He tightens their embrace. His heart's in his throat when he pressed into Lando's lips and he felt him melt into him.

Lando brings a hand up to the side of his neck and gently brushes his thumb along his earlobe as he tilts his head and kisses Carlos back fully. It send a shiver down his spine. He's feeling lightheaded and dazed and he needs a moment so he pulls back. But Lando has other plans, hand behind his head, fingers in his hair, he pulls Carlos back in, lips gently parted. When Lando pulls back, he touches his forehead to Carlos'. He exhales heavily, eyes closed. "Sorry, I-"

Carlos moved, nuzzling the side of Lando's nose with his own, then carefully nips at Lando's bottom lip. Lando tips his head back to meet and sigh into Carlos' full lips. The kiss is slow and sensual. He feels Lando cup his cheek and deepens the kiss. This is-

Lando licks his lower lip and he opens for him. It's intense and raw. He savours the taste of Lando's tongue sliding against his own. Heaven.

Before long their breathing becomes uneven, their kisses desperate and needy. "Lando?" Carlos asks hoarsly between kisses. Lando pulls back and bumps his forehead to Carlos' shoulder. Both trying to get their breathing back to normal.

Lando leans back and gazes at him, surprisingly more steady on his feet. "We made each other a better part of ourselves. You filled up empty space I didn't know I had or was even possible to.... I'm just really glad I met you and you want to share your life and these moments with me. I want to give you a place for you with me for as long as you would let me."

Carlos smiled at the tears being reflected back to him as he felt his own forming. "Is that your way of saying that Lando muppet Norris may love me as much as I love him?"

Lando looked at him through his eyelashes, tilting his head, that look that got him out of so many things and made Carlos love him a little bit more every time. "They say milk and chilli do go well together...." They giggled but Lando's expression turned serious as he nodded maybe more to himself. "I love you, I truly do. Maybe we can take this slowly and see what adventures we'll go on?"

Carlos smiled lovingly. "Let's have our first date tomorrow evening, yeah?"

"You mean this wasn't a date? Huh could've sworn this evening started with you not being able to keep your hands off of me and getting yourself so tipsy because you couldn't deal with being in love with your friend and looking for some courage to hint at it but failing miserably."

Looking lovingly at Lando, Carlos laughs out loud. "My muppet friend, you never cease to make me happy. You want to grab another drink and have a dance or come to my place, watch a movie, kick your ass in FIFA and make a midnight snack?"

Lando giggled and entwined their hands, pulling Carlos towards the exit, leaning against him. "Let's go home, I'm in the mood for cuddling, a nice horror movie so you can keep me safe and that midnight snack."

"Yeah home. Hey I thought you wanted to take us slowly?" Carlos winked and waggled his eyebrows. He was rewarded by a high pitched giggle. "I will in a few dates but I'm actually really hungry."

"That's what I was saying!"

"Stop!" Another heartfelt giggle.

"I'll never stop Mi Vida."

🧡❤

#carlando #i needed this #now i can go to sleep #hope it brings a smile on someone's face #makes you forget a shitty mood or moment or day #it always gets better #i promise #you deserve to be here #reading this proves you are not alone

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softnoblecyno · 3 years ago

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I Am Human (Nothing More Than Human)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Trans Male Character, Trans Character, Trans Eskel (The Witcher), Smut, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Bondage, Handcuffs, Power Dynamics, Oral Sex, (trans male receiving), ball worship, Sub Eskel (The Witcher), Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub, Mild Painplay, sorry jamie apparently all porn i write has some painplay in it, i tried to tamp down on it, Subspace, Nonverbal Communication, Teasing, Dirty Talk, Coming In Pants

on ao3

“Are you going to be my good boy?” Jaskier coos at Eskel, his witcher sat upright against the headboard with his wrists tied parallel to his head, one on each side. Jaskier is standing beside the bed, but now he climbs onto it, straddling Eskel’s legs just below his hips.

His lover is completely nude already, a stark contrast to Jaskier, who still has his trousers and undershirt on. Eskel is unfathomably handsome, as always— his skin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat already, his muscled chest heaving with his labored breaths. Jaskier longs to run his hands down his abdomen, to caress the twin scars under his pecs, to trace the line of hair just below his navel. Jaskier could shift back, settle himself between his legs and lave his witcher with attention; kiss his thighs, pet over his hips, leading closer and closer to where Eskel wants him the most… But no, this is his game. And Eskel doesn’t get to be touched, not yet. Not until he answers.

However Eskel doesn’t react to his prompt at all, just continues to stare at Jaskier with hot, dark eyes. Jaskier remains calm, not moving an inch to give way or give in, but instead watching him silently— expectantly— with a smirk set on his lips. Finally, Eskel squirms under the scrutiny, averting his eyes briefly before they are drawn back to Jaskier as if magnetized, and whines, quiet but drawn out. He nods tightly.

Jaskier feels a dark curl of satisfaction in himself at that. “Tsk tsk tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “Now now, you know that’s not how good boys answer me, Eskel.” He seizes Eskel’s jaw and forces his head up so that Jaskier is the only thing he can look at. “Use your words, darling,” he warns, and digs his fingers in just enough to be felt.

“I’ll be good,” Eskel croaks. His eyes have already started to go hazy.

Jaskier preens, a satisfied smile on his lips as he drinks Eskel in. “I’m sure you will. Look at you, already so out of it.” He hooks his finger into Eskel’s mouth when he moves to close it from where he’s been panting. “Ah ah,” he breathes, gaze locked on where his finger disappears inside, “keep it open for me, sweetheart. I want to look at that pretty mouth of yours.” Eskel’s eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows pulled tight and raising up in pleasure as a shiver runs through him. He’d mentioned after a session once that the idea of being looked at, appraised, sounded interesting and, after seeing his reaction, Jaskier is going to abuse that as often and as ruthlessly as he can.

Eskel’s jaw drops open, slow and controlled, while his witcher stares at him, looking oh-so defenseless. Jaskier hums. He smears Eskel’s bottom lip with his thumb, watching unabashedly as it glistens with spit he spreads onto it. “There you are,” he praises. “What a good boy, so pliant for me.” He shifts his thumb in deeper, running the pad of it carefully along the edge of Eskel’s bottom teeth. Even as he does so, however, his attention is more so on the flutter of his witcher’s eyelashes, on the quickened rise of his chest as he takes shallow breaths like he has to work through the arousal coursing through him with difficulty. Jaskier is about to comment on it, tease him for how worked up he’s getting over this, until he feels the sharp point of Eskel’s canine dig into his thumb and his attention is quickly shifted.

He presses the pad of his thumb into the point of it until the pain ratchets high enough that Jaskier knows he’s about to break skin. Pleased with his assessment, he eases back. His hands are his livelihood, and they haven’t discussed that kind of play yet anyhow. Still, he comments, “Perfectly sharp,” then hooks his thumb into the corner of Eskel’s mouth, dragging his jaw open wider by force.

A loud whine fills the room. Jaskier has to hold back an "aww" at how Eskel’s muscles tremble visibly under his skin, how his hips shift minutely toward Jaskier. His amusement seeps into his next words. “What a good boy, yes, being so patient for me.” He tilts Eskel’s head upward with the grip he has on him, like he’s examining the inside of the witcher’s mouth, but his focus is on Eskel’s face. “You get whatever I say, whenever I say, isn’t that right?”

read the rest on ao3!

#my writing #witcher #wicher fic #eskier #witcher netflix #i'm too tired to tag the rest rn #fic #ficrec

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sxfik · 4 years ago

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you're the sunshine in the rain when it's pouring (won't you give yourself to me?)

read on ao3 • masterlist

summary: Kang Sol A was not afraid, she wasn’t built to be afraid. But what else could you call the pang that rippled through her heart as she noticed the two figures huddled at the cafe near the entrance of her school?

a/n: hello! this is my first solhwi fic i've written and if i'm being honest, it's kind of a mess but i have so many ideas for them, especially after these last few episodes! honestly, the two of them are the epitome of idiots to lovers so i just had to write this! the title of this fic is from best part by Daniel Ceasar ft. H. E. R.

come interact or drop a request if you want to see more solhwi content :)

Kang Sol A was not afraid.

She wasn’t afraid during her yearly doctor’s appointment, the glint of the long needle threatening to pierce through her. She wasn’t afraid when she stood up for her sisters, time and time again, until she was beaten and bruised protecting them. In the face of any adversity, she was taught to stand strong and fight, no matter how big or small the enemy. Even at the face of losing her scholarship and being expelled from Hankuk Law School, she knew she could pull herself up.

No, Kang Sol A was not afraid, she wasn’t built to be afraid. But what else could you call the pang that rippled through her heart as she noticed the two figures huddled at the cafe near the entrance of her school?

It’s been a week since Ye Seul’s trial, five days since the incident, and four days since she started avoiding Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam, Han Joon Hwi.

His presence was bearable prior to Ye Seul’s trial. Actually, more than bearable. It was a comfort, a person she knew she could let her guard down with. His teasing smiles or his love for ramen at any time of day. As her days and her mind got busier day by day, his presence was unyielding. Every late night in the library, he was by her side, explaining the codes over and over again. Even when she got frustrated, or whiny, Joon Hwi was infinitely patient with her. With Joon Hwi by her side, everything seemed so easy. She saw the light at the end of the long tunnel she was dragged through. Still, with Kang Dan’s sudden appearance, Mr. Yang and Ye Seul’s trial, her mind was too busy to think clearly. To see clearly.

But when his gaze shifted to her and her roommate when he stood as a witness during Ye-Seul’s trial, her breath caught in her throat as she imagined, just for a moment, that he was going to say her name. That he was looking at her. That he was in love with her.

It was as if something clicked, like the puzzle pieces coming together in her mind. In an instant, she saw him in such clarity, every action, every smile and gesture passing through her mind. Cliche as it seems, it was as if she saw him for the first time all over again.

But of course, that gaze was not meant for her. Why would it be? Han Joon Hwi was meant to be with Sol B, not her. The students who were born to work with the law are perfectly suited for each other. It was obvious that he wanted to protect Sol B. Yet, in her weakest moment, her heart yearned for it to be her.

Forcing herself to breathe, she continued on after the trial as if nothing had changed between them. Because, well, they haven’t. The view had shifted but only for her. At first, it was easier than she expected, teasing him about her roommate. Sol would be lying if she said it didn’t come with a twinge of jealousy but what could she do, but continue to be loyal to him. So on she continued, with Joon Hwi blissfully unaware that she was falling deeper for him, day by day.

Of course, nothing ever goes her way. Five nights ago, Sol was seated at her usual desk at the library, the rows of desks unoccupied. It was another late night for her, as she poured over her case files for a quiz the next day. Despite being a breeze for the other students, Sol had to study for a 110% in order to score an 80%. Sol set up camp in the library, her texts haphazardly strewed across the desk, highlighter in hand, as she buckled down for a long night of studying.

As the hours passed, her vision slowly blurred, the words on the page meshing together into a blob of black squiggles. She blinked, forcing her eyes to focus but to no avail. Sighing, she shut her eyes as she slumped back into her chair, allowing her head to loll off the edge of her chair and stretching her arms out.

“Still studying?” Joon Hwi’s familiar voice startled her, her head jerking back and almost tipping her chair backwards. “Whoa, Sol, be careful!” he lunged, catching her chair before she had the chance to stabilize herself.

“Yah, Han Joon Hwi, why would you come up suddenly like that?” Sol wrinkled her nose at him in annoyance, getting a teasing smirk in response. Sol turned towards her desk, pulling herself closer to the desk as he looked over her.

“Are you studying for Professor Jung’s quiz tomorrow?” he questioned, his head tilting in a familiar way as she sighed once more.

“Of course I am. Not all of us are law geniuses like you, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam,” Sol huffed as she looked up at him but she softened her face as she saw the smile on his face.

Joon Hwi let out a small laugh as he stepped closer to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. “Well, then I’d be more than qualified to help, don’t you think, sunbae?” he quipped back.

“Hey, I can do it myse-”

“Hm, let me see,” he cut her off, his eyebrows furrowed. Her heart stuttered as he leaned forward, over her shoulder, looking onto the texts that lay in front of her. “Oh, this one isn’t as bad as the others, you should start with this and then…” he rambled on, but every once of her concentration was on his proximity. The warmth of his hand on her shoulder bleed through her shirt, the feel of his palm burning her skin. He was close enough that she could hear the soft puffs of his breath, his warmth radiating off his body pulling her body towards him like a magnet.

It’s okay, just breathe. You know how to breathe right, Sol? She slowly instructed herself on how to breathe like she suddenly had to learn all over again. And wow, was that a bad idea. His cologne is even more intoxicating up close, and so is Joon Hwi. Every one of her senses was overloaded, her mind blank save for him.

“Yah, Kang Sol? You better be paying atten-” he turned his head towards her, and she forgot how to breathe all over again. His brown eyes widened in surprise as his face just centimeters away from hers. Sol parted her lips ever so slightly to speak but his gaze dropped her lips and her mind was blank again as she blinked at him. His features were so much softer up close, as she watched his face relax. His long eyelashes brushed against his cheek as he blinked. His eyes flitted back to her, but his familiar honey eyes darkened. Her eyes drifted over his face, and then dipped down to his soft lips. If she just moved closer, she could feel how soft his lips were...

And suddenly, reality slapped her in the face. What would Sol B think if she caught her boyfriend so close to her? Even with her roommate’s cold behavior, Sol knew just how much she suffered and how much it would break her to know how she felt about Joon Hwi. Despite every molecule in her body begging her to move closer, she couldn’t do that to Sol B.

So she moved away, stuttering out some lame excuse as she gathered her books and stumbled out of the library. But as she lay in her bedroom, staring up at the ceiling as she imagined all that could have happened between them, the warmth of the memory spread across her body.

And Kang Sol A knew that she wasn’t just afraid. She was terrified.

When she couldn’t stand and fight, she did the next best thing. She ran. She intricately planned everyday to minimize her contact with him as much as possible. Obviously, step one was to sit away from him in class, to avoid his gaze in the halls. She would leave her dorm as early as possible and hide until he was finished with his dinner to sneak in and grab herself something.

But it wasn’t until she tried to avoid him that she realized just how much space in her life was occupied by him. He used to always sit next to or across from her. Always looking over her shoulder, or leaning over to see the textbooks clearly. Every time she turned to ask a question, or make a snarky comment, there was an empty space reminding her of her decision.

Still, even if he wasn’t physically present, he occupied a corner in her mind. His voice was in her head, echoing responses to her every thought. Her mind would fill with things she wanted to rant about, to ask, to share with him. When she closes her eyes at night and drifts into sleep, he would be there, his signature teasing smile on his face.

And he didn’t seem to be making it any easier on her. It seemed that Joon Hwi took it upon himself to magically appear whenever she least expected him to. If she went to the copy room to print a case file, he was sitting there, looking through a stack of papers or in line to print a copy himself. If she decides to have a late night study session, there he is across from her, books in hand with his legs propped up on a table.

Han Joon Hwi was the constant, unavoidable presence that she can’t seem to get rid of from her life. From her mind. From her heart.

“Unnie?” a soft voice snapped Kang Sol out of her thoughts, and Ye Seul appeared in front of her, near the entrance. How long have I stood here? Sol blinked.

“Ah, Ye-Seul,” she smiled at her best friend. “Let’s have some coffee today? At the cafe?” she asked, her shoulders relaxing after flitting up to where Joon Hwi and Kang Sol B stood. Well, where they were standing. I guess they left. Ye Seul’s eyebrows furrowed as she followed Sol’s gaze but before she could respond, Sol A hooked an elbow through hers, dragging her toward the cafe.

But of course, nothing ever goes her way.

“Ah, Ye-Seul, can I borrow Kang Sol for a moment?” Joon Hwi asked, suddenly appearing in their path, his eyes strictly focused on her best friend. Sol squeezed her arm in alarm, everything in her body pleading for Ye-Seul to say no so she can just avoid him until her crush fades away.

“Unnie, buy me the coffee next time, hm?” Ye-Seul turned to her with an apologetic gaze. Betrayal. I’ll get you back for this. Sol A sighed as she turned her gaze to Joon Hwi.

“Yah, Sol, why are you avoiding me like this? Please, just talk to me so we can fix it,” he pleaded with her, wasting no time to get to the point. Sol A pursed her lips as she looked up at him, her mind too full for her to answer him. What could she say to him? That she likes him? That she’s found out how much she needs him in her life, but she was too late?

“Sol, please,” his voice broke slightly as the silence stretched between them but that was enough for her to sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she gave in to him.

“Okay,” she responded and that was all Joon Hwi needed to grab her wrist and walk towards the corridor between the stairwells.

“We can talk more privately,” he answered her before she even voiced the question. “Now, why are you mad at me? The last time I saw you was at the library and then you disappeared,” Joon hwi ran a hand through his hair nervously as he rambled on and for the first time, Kang Sol took him in. To say he was disheveled was an understatement. The usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be seen and his clothes were askew as his face showed the lack of sleep and exhaustion. Her heart clenched for him, but no, you can’t do this. You can’t betray Sol B.

“Don’t you think it’s best if we don’t interact with how we used to?” she asked, her eyes glued to the floor, ignoring her throat closing up at the thought of breaking their friendship.

“What?” his eyes zeroed in on her, and she could see the confusion running through his mind.

“What do you think Sol B would think if she saw us like this? We can’t be close like this with each other bec-”

“Who cares about how I am with you?” he cut her off, his jaw clenched as his eyebrows furrow in frustration.

“Ya Han Joon Hwi, how could you do this? I expected so much better from you. Don’t you understand, it’s terrible to do this to her!” she pleaded with him, her heart squeezing inside her chest. Sol clenched her jaw, willing herself to be strong for her roommate’s sake, for his sake, and for hers.

Silence stretched between them as she looked up to him. His eyes closed for a moment while he looked down to the floor. And then his eyes flitted up and into her eyes as his fist clenched, his brown eyes filling with an unreadable emotion. “Why is it so terrible?” he whispered.

“Why-” Sol started, her voice burning in anger and pain.

“Why is it so terrible that I’m in love with you?” Joon hwi’s eyes flickered up to hers, his gaze boring into her.

Kang Sol blinked. Her back straightened as her mouth opened and closed like a fish, as Joon Hwi took a step closer. “Me?” she stuttered out, her mind spinning, unable to process his words.

“You.” He stepped closer.

“But you like Kang Sol-”

“A. Kang Sol A.” Another step closer.

She closed her eyes as she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and to ignore his proximity. But all her attempts were futile as Joon Hwi brought his hand up, his touch feather light as he cupped her face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. Sol’s hands felt frozen as her breath lodged into her throat, her eyes meeting his. She could hear her heart thundering in her ribcage as Joon hwi spoke.

“I like you, Kang Sol. It’s always been you,” he whispered, his voice wavering as he grew closer, his lips just a centimeter away from hers. Never one with patience, she surged forward to meet his lips. Her imagination and dreams did not compare to how his lips felt against hers. It was soft and his kisses were just as unyielding as his presence. It was all consuming as her hands gripped his coat, pulling him closer. His thumb running across her cheekbones, he shifted his head pulling her in deeper as his hands cupped her face. Even though their lips just met for a few moments, it felt as though his soft lips were against hers for an eternity.

Sol’s eyes were still closed as they parted, not wishing to leave this moment and back into real life. Apprehensively, she met his eyes and a moment of silence stretched between them, as they caught their breath. A million watt smile stretched across his face, his contagious happiness brightening her up as she smiled back. But suddenly reality caught up to her.

“Wait, so you’re not with my roommate?” she questioned, confused about everything she had seen between them. Joon hwi shook his head.

“No, I was just with her because she asked for help during one of her legal research papers,” he explained, then paused. “Yah, wait. You avoided me this whole time because you thought I was in love with Kang Sol B?” a smirk spread across his face, his expression taunting. Sol bit her lip as she looked down, unwilling to admit her mistake.

“Yah, how can you be at law school and not figure out I liked you!” he asked, his voice incredulous.

“You were so ambiguous! Every time I thought you liked me as more than friends, you’d act close with Sol B!” she huffed out, pouting and pulling away from him, embarrassed that she thought he liked her roommate. Before she could pull away, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a crushing hug. Her body relaxed as she took him in, the way he felt against her intoxicating and comforting beyond description.

Kang Sol A was terrified. But having him at her side was enough to know that she could fight once more, together, as more than friends.

#mine #my writing #solhwi #solhwi fanfiction #idiots to lovers #han joon hwi #kang sol A #kang sol B #ryu hye young #kim bum #kim beom #law school jtbc #jtbc law school #law school netflix #kdrama #law school kdrama

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ahkaahshi · 5 years ago

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sweet dreams [ushijima wakatoshi x reader]

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) and fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, cockwarming, somnophilia (as in he slides in while you’re sleepin but consent was already given in this instance), slight praise kink, penetrative sex, swearing, brief mentions of a daddy kink (are we even surprised by this anymore??)

word count: 2.4k

overview: ushijima’s thoughts about you keep him awake long enough to hear tidbits of your sweet dreams about him.

From where he lies on his back, drifting between sleep and consciousness, Ushijima lets out a deep sigh of discontentment and turns his head towards your form beneath the covers beside him. In the gentle glow from the streetlights seeping in around the curtains, he can somewhat see the outline of your body, the covers rising and falling around your midriff as you breathe gently and peacefully. The bare skin of your shoulders peering out from beneath the comforter catches his attention, and he instinctively pulls the sheets up closer to your neck to protect you from the chill in the air.

It’s a rare occasion when he can’t sleep. Usually, he’s quick to fall into a deep slumber after a long and arduous day of practice, training, and any other responsibilities required of himself as well as the other Team Japan athletes. He thought tonight would be another restful night, given the activities he’d gotten up to today—and having you put a pleasant end to his week by dragging him into bed for a few rounds of passionate sex to make up for the time you’d spent apart.

But, in spite of having his craving for you satiated earlier, he still can’t get you off his mind.

He can’t stop imagining the feeling of your warm, soft skin beneath his hands as he runs them along every inch of your body, or the way his fingers sink into it when he presses them against your hips and rear. He can’t get the beautiful tune of your mewls out of his head, especially not when you say his name so sweetly and with such yearning, letting him know that he’s all you want and everything you need. And he most certainly can’t push aside the sensation of the warm, inviting wetness of your core on his cock as your walls clench around him so tightly, so lovingly, that it’s as if you never want him to leave.

A low groan rumbles in his chest, and he moves his hand beneath the covers to grip the erection that’s formed at just the sheer thought of you. Oh, how much he wants to be buried in that sweet pussy of yours that always takes him so well and is always so receptive to him; but he doesn’t want to wake you. He’s not the only one who’s had a tiresome week, and he knows you need to rest well, just as he does.

However, as the thought of jerking himself off to the images of you he has permanently etched into his brain crosses his mind, so does a memory of a recent conversation the two of you had about a week or two ago that has his heart pounding against his ribcage. At the time, he’d been struggling to clear his mind enough of all the stressors affecting him to sleep peacefully, and your awareness of his restlessness had led you to suggest a possible solution.

“You can… you can use me if you need to, baby. I-I want you to. It’s okay if I’m asleep. I want you to be able to relax.”

Though some time had passed since you’d made this offer to him, he’d never taken you up on it. The thought was enticing—and he understood that you’d given him consent beforehand—but the worry of waking you up kept him from acting on his desires each time he found himself awake at odd hours of the night. While he watches you sleep peacefully, trying to decide if he should accept your invitation or head to the bathroom instead, a sudden realization strikes him.

All this time, he’d been thinking that you were offering the option to him for his satisfaction and peace of mind, but it had never occurred to him that you might actually want him to do it for your own pleasure—even though you’d stated that you’d wanted him to try it. Now, with this idea in mind, your figure seems to act as a magnet that draws him closer to you.

Carefully, he moves his body into the cold space between you and props himself up on his elbow so he can lean over you and take in as much of your sleeping form as he can see in the soft light. He admires everything about you, from the way your messy strands of hair splay out over the pillow to the way your fingers twitch softly where they rest beside your face. Many times before has he witnessed the serene sight of you in a deep slumber, but never before has it been this challenging for him to keep his hands off of you. So, he allows his palm to come to rest atop your shoulder, exposing a bit more of your tender skin to him while it runs down the length of your arm.

As his hand travels further, making its way along your torso and down to your hip, he brings his face to your neck so he can litter it with gentle kisses. His dick throbs impatiently at the familiar sensation of the body of yours he knows so well beneath his fingertips once more, and he has to keep himself from rutting into the supple skin of your thighs where they rest gently atop one another beneath the sheets. Just as his fingers dare to wander in between your legs, mere inches away from your warm core, he hears a sound that makes him stop in his tracks.

“Mm,” you breathe softly, “’Toshi…” Moments after the soft moan leaves your slightly parted lips, he feels your muscles shudder as you wriggle your hips and readjust your leg, so it’s thrown further across the bed in the direction you’re facing. For a second, he wonders if you’re awake, but your eyelids don’t flutter, and your body doesn’t shift again. But you do treat him to another whisper of his name. “’Toshi…”

You’re just too irresistible to him, beckoning him even in your sleep. Knowing that you’re thinking about him as you dream and feeling just how wet you are when he drags his fingers along your slit has him feeling desperate. He wants to be inside of you, giving you the pleasure he can imagine you’re chasing subconsciously. With a shuddering breath, he aligns the head of his leaking cock at your entrance, placing his hand on your hip so he can guide your sleeping form onto it as he pushes inside of you.

In spite of his eagerness, he’s slow and gentle with the process so he doesn’t hurt you or rouse you from your rest. A soft grunt spills onto your neck when he bottoms out, fully sheathing himself in your familiar warmth. The comfort he feels is almost instant, as if every nagging thought gets shut out from his mind by some, invisible force. All he can focus on is keeping you close to him and basking in the pleasure he always derives from having your body against his.

The small sigh of contentment that leaves your mouth matches that he breathes into your shoulder when he nestles his face in the crook of your neck. His entire body relaxes against yours and the bed, and it’s not long before his eyelashes flutter shut, grazing your skin in the process.

There’s a few, long minutes of quietude and peace until you murmur, “Please,” again in your sleep before releasing another drawn-out moan. Whether it’s intentional or not he’s unsure, but your hips grind against his in lazy, uncoordinated movements. Since he’s not intent on having sex with you while you’re asleep, he uses a firm but gentle grip to still your actions even though they feel divine. He doesn’t want to get too worked up and awaken you, which is already hard enough with the way your walls pulse around him—fully aware of his presence inside of you even though you aren’t quite yet.

A low hum echoes in his throat when his name leaves your lips once more. He wonders what dreams you’re having about him. What he’s doing to you. What you’re feeling. What you want to feel. You were soaked before he’d even touched you, so you must’ve been imagining some lewd fantasies—maybe those you haven’t even told him about yet. But whatever it is that you’re imagining with him, it has you fairly worked up.

“Wakatoshi.” His moniker escapes you in a whine, and he lifts his head when he feels the muscles in your neck twitch slightly. To both his surprise and delight, he finds that your eyelashes have parted so you can watch him with a half-lidded gaze, (e/c) eyes clouded over with lust. “Want you again…” you whimper, voice no louder than a nearly inaudible breath, “Please, baby.”

Your request has his cock throbbing against your walls with anticipation, and he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face as he asks, “You sure?”

Reaching up to take the hand skimming along your cheek in yours, you nod. “Right here… like this.” He’s seen you in moments of desperation many times before, but the way you look now—still groggy and disoriented from being asleep yet so needy that you’re breathless already—awakens a different side of him. A side that’s not rough or wanting to ravish you until your body’s littered with love bites and heaving from exertion; rather, a side that wants to treat you as if you’re the most precious yet delicate flower that he’s ever seen. He can’t resist you, and he doesn’t want to anyway.

So, with a touch more tender than usual, one of his hands finds your sternum, tracing along the swell of your breasts, while his other moves to your waist to hold your back flush against his chest. This gentle action pushes the head of his cock against your cervix, eliciting a gentle mewl from you. “Always take me so well, baby girl,” he praises, placing more kisses against your neck, “Always feel so good.”

Your core is both strained and hypersensitive from your previous rounds born out of a more animalistic desire for one another, but any soreness you feel quickly melts into pleasure with his slow, controlled strokes. Another small cry echoes from your mouth at feeling his fingers travel down to your clit so his long, middle digit can stroke it gently. “Ah!” you moan, hips bucking against his touch, “Right there... mm.”

“That feel good?” he asks, his voice straining as he picks up his pace ever so slightly. The soft hum of approval that leaves your mouth is nearly caught up in the sounds of the sheets shifting along your skin and the gentle creaks of the mattress’s springs. “Fuck, baby; love being inside you.” Your walls squeezing him affectionately in response to his loving words has him groaning into your neck again before dragging his lips over it in open-mouthed kisses.

For a few moments, neither of you speak—both too caught up in being connected so intimately once more and too exhausted to form coherent words. Instead, you simply lose yourselves in how your bodies mold together so perfectly, from the way his hand ensconces yours when he reaches around to hold onto it to the way you accommodate every inch of him so well. Despite being turned away from him, you still feel just as close—if not closer—to him as you do when you’re gazing into each other’s eyes while he plunges inside of you.

Eventually, with one of his hands wrapped tightly around yours while the other remains between your legs, only moving away to knead your soft breasts as he thrusts into you with long, firm strokes, you find yourself at the edge of yet another orgasm. You vocalize your desire by allowing the words, “Daddy, please! Wanna cum,” to fall off your tongue in feverish pants. The low groan of satisfaction that sends tingles along your skin has you feeling unbearably hot and bothered. Every muscle in your body feels tense as you dangle on the edge of your release, but you know Ushijima’s intent on getting you there.

“Yeah?” is his husky response as he snaps his hips against yours with enough force and speed to shake the bed, “Daddy’s always gonna take care of his good girl.” The head of his cock repeatedly hitting your sweet spot while his fingers trace tight circles around your clit sends your mind into a haze, and all you can do is babble incoherently about how badly you need him. “Gonna make you cum so hard, baby.”

You know damn well that Ushijima has never been one to break his promises, and now certainly isn’t an exception. In an instant, warmth is spreading across your body like a wildfire, bringing with it waves of euphoria as he pushes you over the edge of your orgasm. Spots fill your vision when you screw your eyes shut and moan unabashedly while your hips thrash against his cock and fingers. The mesmerizing sensation of your pussy spasming around him has his hold on you tightening as he drives into you at a maddening speed until he’s releasing inside of you with hot spurts of his seed. More praises fall upon your ears as he fucks you through your high, wanting to be inside of you and hear your sounds of pleasure for as long as he can.

With heavy breaths, you sink into the bed after he pulls out of you and does the same. Drowsiness is quickly taking hold of you, sending your eyelids are fluttering shut once more mere seconds later while you recover from your high. Ushijima notices how spent you are and presses an appreciative kiss against your temple. You use the last of your energy to turn and face him so you can meet his lips with yours instead. “I love you, Wakatoshi,” you murmur softly, not even bothering to fully break the kiss before you speak, “Love you so much.”

His strong arms wrap around your weary body, pulling you closer to him so you can lazily drape an arm and leg around him as your head comes to rest on his chest. “I love you too, (f/n),” he whispers breathily, planting another kiss against the crown of your head. Once he’s pulled the covers up over your slightly sweaty bodies to keep you warm through the night, he allows his eyes to close so he can settle down to sleep before he continues, “More than anything else.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou

ushijima: @pretty-setters, @misora-msby, @lotsoffandomrecs, @atsunakaashi, @heyhinata, @cuddlysoftbear

#haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ahkaahshi gets wild #ahkaahshi's mini kinktober 2020 #haikyuu smut #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu fanfiction #fran writes hq!!#tw somnophilia

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spacedikut · 5 years ago

Text

“let me do this for you. please.” ; aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner (criminal minds) x reader

summary: it’s left to you to help aaron with his injury. taken from this prompt list - 1781 words

a/n: this is kind of shitty trash but i wanted to add to the one hotch fic ive written

Aaron Hotchner, in all his glory, is more often than not described as strict. Maybe even grumpy.

It takes less than one conversation with the unit chief to fully understand this, sometimes all it takes is witnessing the way he walks and holds himself, and he’s become somewhat notorious for it.

However, you know more about Hotch than the average person. More than either of you care to admit. For a while you were certain he hated you, definitely didn’t trust you, despite being highly trained and told again and again by your team that that’s just how Hotch is. Emily, especially, pulled you aside to tell you she was also victim to his cold persona at the beginning.

It takes time, she’d said, but he’ll warm up to you. He won’t be able to resist.

It all changed when he appeared at your apartment door several hours after you’d been discharged from the hospital following a gnarly gunshot wound to your shoulder. He stood there, with his famous furrowed brows, straight-mouth look on his face, cradling a basket. He’d made you a ‘get well soon’ package – your favourite candy (he knew that?), some DVDs (including your favourite – he knew that?), and his favourite book (written by your favourite author). There were fluffy socks and a colouring book, too.

“I couldn’t visit you in the hospital,” He’d said, “So Jack and I made you a gift basket. He chose the colouring book.”

In your stunned silence you didn’t ask any further questions, just took the present and contemplated getting shot again in hopes he would pay another visit, maybe come inside. Maybe fall in love with you. You’re not picky.

That night you realised your unit chief doesn’t hate you and you definitely don’t hate your unit chief.

Now, almost a year later, there’s been some big changes. You’re pushing Aaron onto his bed as he grips the top of his bleeding forearm; he’s mumbling curses under his breath while pouting – yes, pouting, no matter how much he’ll deny it when you tease him about it later. It had taken you raising your voice at him to convince him to let you help at all, let alone clean the cut, so you allow his brooding.

When you sit on your heels of his bedroom floor in front of him, he instinctively opens his mouth to, once again, say something along the lines of, “You don’t have to do this,” or “I can look after myself.”

You interrupt before he can even begin.

“If you refuse to go to the hospital, refuse to let an on-site medic come to you, you’re gonna let me help you, you got that?” You snap, fuelled by worry and frustration.

On the scene he’d refused medical attention, telling the medics to focus on the victims which, fair enough, was valid. But then Rossi had tried to drive him to the hospital, to get stitched up because anyone could see the cut on his arm needed it, and he’d argued and argued to the point where Rossi shoved him into your car and said, “You take him. He’s being a child and I am too old for this.”

He kept telling you to just drop him off home and he’ll be fine, but you couldn’t do that. You have a medical background; you’ve stitched up everyone on the team at least once, excluding Hotch, and you’ll get peace of mind if you do the job and know he’s okay.

You followed him inside, he kept telling you to go home because he’s fully capable, and you kept telling him to shut up. Now you’re here.

Aaron says nothing in return – just stares into your eyes and maintains a tight, strained posture.

You recognise the look in his eyes, then. Everything clicks into place in your head and your heart hurts slightly.

“Let me do this for you. Please.”

Aaron is a leader. A protector. He always has been. He trusts his team with his life, of course he does, but he’s also stubborn. The idea of anyone, let alone the one person who’s somehow wormed their way into his life in a way he hadn’t prepared for, seeing him so vulnerable after a stupid mistake led to an even stupider injury is downright humiliating for him.

He’s embarrassed. He hoped he could sulk home, drink a little too much whiskey as he clumsily cleaned himself up, and move on like nothing happened.

But it’s you, all non-judgemental eyes and worried tone with your caring and reassuring words. You’re too good for him. You’re too good to him.

You work slowly and gently, in a very you way, and Hotch watches closely the entire time. You assume he’s watching so he can do it himself next time, can use this as an excuse for you to not do this ever again, but a part of you wonders if he still doesn’t trust you.

He sits patiently, until he realises how much blood he’s lost and starts to feel woozy. It’s very possible he has a concussion, too, along with the exhaustion from not sleeping for at least twenty four hours. His head feels like it’s swimming and his vision gets a little blurry.

You notice him swaying and stop what you’re doing to hold his biceps to steady him. His eyes almost roll, but he seems to jolt himself out of it. Aaron has this disturbing ability to act as if nothing bad is happening – for example, right now. The blood loss is alarming, he just almost passed out, but it’s like he flicks a switch in his brain that decides nah, let’s not do that.

“You okay?” You ask, voice quiet.

He nods and mumbles, “Yeah. Brain almost collapsed.”

You think that’s an attempt at a joke. You’re too concerned to laugh, even fake it, and slowly move your arms back to the med kit you’re rifling through.

“Brain dumb.” He adds.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes. Aaron surprises himself by wanting to cry at how beautiful you look.

“My name’s Aaron. You should call me it.”

You laugh quietly – the blood loss is beginning to get to him and he’s losing his professional barrier. The barrier that he lets down rarely, usually only when he’s in the comfort of his home, maybe relaxing with you and Jack. This is a special version of that, amplified by his injury.

“I’ll call you Aaron, then.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright, Aaron.”

He goes back to watching you, contentment coming off him in waves.

You’re done a few minutes later, Aaron’s cut all cleaned and stitched up. You wrap it in gauze and move the med kit aside, standing before him and sighing, hands on your hips.

“Alright. Bed time.” You say.

Aaron flops back on his bed, arms spread – it makes you giggle. It reminds you of the one time you had to bring drunk Hotch home.

“Move up, Aaron. Against your headboard.” You command.

As he moves, you grab some of the pillows he doesn’t use and place them under his legs to elevate them. You go to his ensuite and fill a glass of water, placing it on his bedside table, and look at the handsome unit chief seemingly asleep. You lean in closer to get a look at his condition – is he pale, cold, clammy?

His eyes snap open. You jump back in shock.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” His voice is rough, he’d almost fallen asleep, and his dimples begin to show when he smiles at your surprise.

“I’ll always take care of you, Aaron.” You say instantly, trying to fluff the pillow behind his head. You don’t realise what you do to him, he thinks, or what the things you say do to him.

“Let me take care of you, too.”

You smile, ignorant to the way he’s looking at you, “You do take care of me. You take great care of the whole team, A. You’re kind of amazing at it.”

You move to tuck him in, like you’ve watched him do to Jack many times.

“I mean-“ He stops you, large hands holding your wrists, “Let me take care of you. No one else.”

Your brows furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Me, Aaron, take care of you, Y/N.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I can take care of you.”

“Yeah, I know,” You laugh at the situation, the ridiculousness of how you’re going in circles, “I just told you that you take great care of me.”

He lets out a deep breath in exasperation, “Let me take care of you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That sounds sexual, sir.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t mean it-“ He cuts himself off, “I mean, yes, but no, at the same time.”

You open your mouth to say What?!

“I’m trying to ask you out, Y/N.”

Oh.

You’re stunned, to say the least, and speechless. There’s nothing more you’d like than to go on a date with him, but he’s… vulnerable right now. Fragile. You’re not sure he’s in the right state of mind for this conversation.

Hotch senses your hesitation before you even register it yourself. He begins to backtrack.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s inappropriate-“

“Aaron.”

“Yes?” Despite the look on your face, filled with doubt, he’s still hopeful.

“I would really like to go on a date with you.” He smiles at that. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re concussed AND you’re exhausted. I can’t take what you say now as, like, gospel.”

He nod as if he understands, but the concoction of ailments he’s got going on make him incapable of truly recognising what’s going on. All he knows is that you said you’d really like to go out with him, and that’s good enough for him.

“Say this again tomorrow and I promise you I’ll make it worth your while,” You grin, now smoothing his hair away from his face as he blinks slowly at you.

“Make it worth my while, huh?” He sleepily smirks, a teasing lilt to his voice. If he wasn’t on the brink of sleep you’re sure he’d look too good for you to handle, but now he just looks adorable.

“Oh yeah. So worth it.”

“Alright then. Night night. You can kiss me on the forehead, if you feel so inclined,”

You roll your eyes and give a big sigh jokingly, “Only because you’re injured.”

You lean, give a quick peck to his forehead, and his dazed gaze follows you like a magnet.

“See you tomorrow, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #i think i hate this #im not sure

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n0wornever · 5 years ago

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Turn Back Time (pt. 7) - Luke Patterson x Reader

Read The Series

Y/N walked up and down the streets in the neighborhood. She admired all of the families, out with their kids on their porches, the little boys riding bikes together and the happy couples holding hands in the lawn chairs. She brought her hands to her pockets as she felt a sense of normalcy wash over her.

Yes, she was still dead, but something about going on one of her nightly walks surrounded by other people made her feel normal for once. She tried to keep her mind off of the song. Y/N wasn’t a jealous person. She trusted Luke with everything in her, but for once she worried something shifted.

Had she pushed him too far the night she asked about his parents? Had she begged one too many times to hear a song that he had finally tuned her out? As she turned the corner back toward Julie’s place, she ran a hand through her hair, letting the wind push it back. The cool breeze helping her breath toward through the frustration.

As she moved toward the garage door, she already hear playing from inside. She rushed toward to opening to yell at the boys, sure that Julie heard all of the ruckus from inside. But as the boys came into view, so did the young girl. She stood center stage alongside Luke, Reggie and Alex as she sung her heart out.

Y/N couldn’t help but melt at the sound of her voice. The purity in its sound was really out of this world. She quietly moved back to the couch to listen to the rest of the song. She recognized the lyrics from earlier in the day. She let her eyes closed as she moved her head to the melody.

As the song ended, she opened her eyes to find Luke standing in front of her. His hand was still on the guitar as he smiled down at her brightly.

“What do you think, babe?”

She swallowed hard before nodding enthusiastically, the boy’s smile growing with her reaction. He spun on his heels, running back toward the other three musicians. She brought her feet up onto the cushion, curling her arms around her knees as the music picked up again.

The four sang together for another hour or so before calling it a day. The boys set up their instruments, waving at Julie as she walked toward the door. The curly haired girl stopped for a moment to wave at Y/N, the other girl giving her her best smile and a small wave in response. She then disappeared outside.

Luke wiped his brow with the bottom of his shirt before lightly jogging over to her. He fell back on the cushion next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. She looked over to him with a small grin, and he leaned in to peck her lips.

“You all sounded great,” Y/N said, breath ghosting his lips.

“Thank you baby,” He said, lightly touching the side of her neck to pull her back in for another kiss.

“Will you two get off of each other,” Alex said from across the room.

Luke held his middle finger up to the drummer before pressing his lips to hers once more. Y/N giggled into the kiss this time, pressing against his chest to pull away. He pouted at her and she rolled her eyes before pecking his lips again and then turning to the other boys.

“That song is incredible, did you all write that?”

Alex pointed a drumstick at Luke with a smile “All Patterson.”

Luke’s cheeks turned a light pink as her gaze landed on him again. She let her hand cup the right side of his face, thumb rubbing over his cheek.

“You’re incredible,” She said, fluttering her eyelashes.

Luke stared at her for a moment, eyes falling from her lips to her eyes a few times before attaching his lips to hers.

“Well, it was a good five minutes,” Alex said.

Y/N pulled away again, letting her forehead touch his softly as she watched his eyes flutter open.

“I think I’m going to take a breather, but I’ll be back in a few, okay?” She told him, pressing herself up to her feet.

“Okay baby, don’t be too long,” His eyes trailed her body as she walked out the door.

Alex walked back over to the couch, sitting next to his bandmate. His gaze directed toward Luke with a pointed look on his face. Luke furrowed his brow as he dissected his friend’s expression.

“What?”

Alex scoffed “When are you going to play it for her?”

“What?”

“Luke, you know what I’m talking about. When are you going to play her the song you wrote?”

Luke shrugged, “I don’t know yet, the timing has to be perfect. She’s waited a long time to be the first person to hear a song I wrote and I don’t want to disappoint her.”

Alex rolled his eyes, his hand coming up to cup the boy’s shoulder.

“She’ll never be disappointed in you dude, she’s over the moon for you.”

Luke nodded, looking down at his journal. He flipped to the page he bookmarked with one of her hair ties. His eyes flew down the page, staring at the scribbles he had written over the past few weeks and smiled down at the paper.

He heard the door creak open. Y/N looked at the open notebook and then to Luke with a smile. Alex lifted himself off the couch before jogging to his drumset. She sat back down next to him on the couch, and he slammed to book shut. She tapped on the cover and looked at him expectedly.

“What were you writing?”

“Nothing,” He answered quickly, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Oh,” She said, a frown falling to her face. “Okay.”

She stood up and walked toward Reggie on the other side of the room. Alex glared at Luke with wide eyes. The boy just ran his hand threw his hair, whispering “not yet” toward the drummer.

The next morning, Y/N grabbed a book from the shelves in the corner of the room and took her usual spot on the couch. As she opened to the first page, she heard footsteps walk in her direction. She looked up to meet Julie’s smile.

“Hey Julie, what’s up?”

She returned her smile, walking closer to the chair to lean against the arm. Y/N put the book down and gave her her full attention.

“Have you seen Luke?” She asked, twiddling with her thumbs. “He disrupted my study session with Flynn last night to tell me he had something to show me.”

She nodded, biting down on her lip. “So sorry about him,” Julie let out a giggle as she shook her head “but anyway, the boys went to terrorize some local park. They have too much energy.”

Julie nodded at her “Can you tell him to come find me when they get back?”

Y/N smiled, returning the nod “Of course!”

As soon as the young girl hit the door, her face dropped again. She was getting that anxious feeling in her stomach again as she let her eyes fall to the floor. She tried to lift her book to her face again, but she couldn’t focus on the words long enough to read a sentence.

She heard the sound of the boys laughter entering the garage and she set the book back down in her lap. She tried pull her cheeks back to a smile, but it felt like she was pulling magnets apart. Alex and Reggie appeared in front of her, her boyfriend nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Luke?”

Alex pointed backward “Julie stopped him out front, he’ll be back soon.”

Reggie moved over to his guitar, and Alex made a beeline to her. He sat down next her, his hand on her leg.

“You okay?”

Curse Alex for being so observant. She nodded her head, giving him another smile as she placed her hand on top of his.

“I’m fine Alex, you’re sweet for checking in. I appreciate you.”

He squinted his eyes “I don’t fully believe you, but okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

He lifted off the couch onto his feet and moved toward his bandmate. Y/N rose from the couch too, her feet pointed at the door. She moved closer to the entrance, letting her eye peek out toward the outside. Luke and Julie were sitting on the stairs. His hand was up like a conductors, seemingly nodding her along to some sort of tune.

She sighed as she looked at how bright their smiles were as the worked together. She stood up and saw Alex looking down at her with a curious smile.

“Ease-dropping?” He rose an eyebrow.

“No, I just..”

He chuckled at her stuttering “Y/N I’m kidding. I’m intrigued by their partnership too, they work really well together.”

“Yeah, they really do,” She said, crossing her arms at her chest.

Alex looked at her with a pointed confused glance but she looked away from him, walking toward her chair again. She placed the book in her hands and let her legs hang from the arm as she read. Alex leaned against the door, studying her but not approaching. She could feel his gaze on her, but she kept her eyes focused on the words on the page.

Luke eventually ran into the room, a wide smile splashed across his face. He spun in a circle before speaking to the boys.

“Julie got back in her music program with the song I gave her,” He cheered, the boys clapping him on the back in excitement.

Y/N tried not to hold onto the last part of that sentence for long as she dropped her book. She met his eyes with a soft smile, nodding in his direction. His dropped a bit as he studied her face. He walked over to the chair, leaning over to press a kiss to her head.

“You okay honey?” He asked, eyes widening at her.

“Yeah, I’m just fine.” She muscled up a smile, leaning up to kiss his lips once.

The boy migrated back to his bandmates, jumping on his tiptoes. Alex’s eyes were still on her. She rose from her seat, silently walking outside to get some air. She didn’t Alex follow her lead as she moved her way to the stairs. He coughed loudly to get her attention. She jumped a little before her eyes rested on him.

“Alex, jeez.”

He laughed, leaning against the railing toward her. He gave her that look again that caused her to sigh, leaning her face in her hands.

“Why are you lying to us, Y/N?”

“What?”

“You’re upset about something,” She frowned up at him. “You’re literal sunshine 24/7, so I can tell when something’s off.”

“Alex I said-”

“I know what you said.”

Before he could ask another question, Luke ran up to the pair, looking over at Alex with bright glossy eyes.

“I forgot to say, Julie is playing a local show this week, she invited all of us to go.”

Y/N rolled her eyes before his reached hers. She gave him thumbs up before leaning forward on her knees to listen.

“She’s a little nervous, so we’ll need to be her support system, okay?” Alex and Y/N nodded at the boy.

Luke slapped Alex’s back before rushing back to the garage. Alex gave her a small smirk, nodding back toward him.

“So, this is about Julie.”

She shook her head vigorously “What? No. I like Julie a lot.”

Alex winked at her “Right... if it’s not her, then what is it?”

Y/N fidgeted with her hands, knowing her friend was not going to leave her alone until she spoke up. She pulled her hair out of her face, looking back up at the blonde’s awaiting eyes.

“I just want to be the first person who hears a song.... that’s all”

“Y/N, you inspire half of our music,” Alex laughed at her.

She giggled, waving his eyes from her face “Yeah, whatever, but I feel like Luke is only vulnerable when he sings. When he shares that part of himself with someone...it means something.” She trailed off, looking to the stars. “He’s never done that with me.”

She met Alex’s eyes again, the boy nodding as he listened to her. He moved over to the stair below her, sitting down.

“I get that, have you talked to him about this?”

“God no,” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be a jealous girlfriend.”

He bit down on his lower lip, narrowing his eyes as he looked away from her. He looked back up at her with a smile.

“You know he’s crazy about you though, right?”

She tried to smile as wide as she could “Yeah, I know.”

The two sat in silence for awhile before Reggie called Alex’s name from the garage.

“Alex, you down for a late night adventure?” Luke popped his head outside too.

He looked back at her, she nudged him forward. He smiled, lifting himself up and jogging toward the boys.

Tag list: @xplrreylo @lovesanimals, @anythingandeverythingfandom, @crybabyddl, @oswin05, @themaddies-obx, @lukeys-giggle, @bumbleberry-pie @kiss-themoongoodbye @marinettepotterandplagg, @lolychu, @bathtimejish, @dasexydevitt13 @musicconversedance, @txrii @bestdressedandstressed @daisiesforlacey @epikskool @bookfrog247 @carleywhittaker @princessvader15 @rudysbay @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @badwolf00593 @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson fanfiction #luke patterson imagine #jatp #julie and the phantoms

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hxseok-honee · 5 years ago

Text

peripeteia | part 3

>> This water’s cold as fuck! <<

previous | next

tag list !!

@lilacdreams-00 @deepseavibez @heonsbebe @robinbaum143 @lys009 @catbugsugarpea @nogitsune-sama @hobisanie @cosmicdaylight @butterflylion @heyitsnguyen @x-useobwa-x @instantspot @livelovesurfdreams @nam-jonie @bubblegumcat229 @my-chaos-in-stars @gustavkonrad @siredjoonie @nebula-winter @krissykiwi @theunknowncryptid @celiasoti

a/n : hope you guys enjoy!! i wrote this shit at 4am and it took a lot of turns i didnt plan on originally but it just be like that sometimes -- lmk what you think!

______________________________________

“You certainly took your time.” Namjoon calls out to Y/n just as she’s turning the corner into the corridor leading out to the castle grounds. He’s leaning against the wall, his silhouette stark against the moonlight streaming onto the bridge behind him. Y/n makes her way to him, choosing not to point out that he seems a bit breathless, as if he’d raced to get to her -- the thought, however, puts a smile on her face.

“I like to make you wait.” He rolls his eyes, and she knows he’s not upset by the way he turns his head and fights to hide his smile. She continues, pointing out toward the bridge. “Taking a stroll on the grounds?” He stands to his full height, tilting his head to look down at her.

“That depends -- do you have any authority on the grounds, Head Girl? Or is it just inside the castle walls?” Y/n levels him with her glare, taking a step toward him. He mirrors her playfully, taking a step back and bathing himself in moonlight when he crosses the threshold of the castle wall and moves onto the bridge. Never once does he take his eyes off of her.

“Are you asking, Mr. Kim, because you want to avoid the detention I’ve already written for you?” He laughs loudly, shaking his head and turning away from her. He responds as he wanders down the length of the bridge, not bothering to check that she’s following him.

“Actually, I’m asking because I’m wondering if you can get away with taking a stroll yourself.” He turns to face her again, walking backwards and noting that Y/n’s followed him without thinking, her hand running along the walls of the bridge while she looks out at the Black Lake. At his question, she stops, planting her feet firmly as she shakes her head.

“It’s not on my route for tonight.”

“Then change your route.” Y/n sighs, giving him a disapproving glance.

“It’s my first patrol, Joon. I can’t. What if the Head Boy figures out I’m gone?” Namjoon raises his eyebrows in question.

“Where’s the Head Boy now?” She hums, pulling her phone out and checking the schedule. As she scrolls through her phone, she’s vaguely aware of Namjoon coming close, hovering over her to look at the schedule with her. She becomes extremely aware, however, of the sheer amount of warmth he radiates, heat falling over her in a way that leaves her head strangely foggy and her thoughts elsewhere.

“--listening? Y/n?” Lifting her head, she meets Namjoon’s confused gaze.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I was just thinking. What was I saying? Oh, right! The schedule…” Namjoon watches as she scrolls through her phone, wondering what had caught her attention. He doesn’t get a chance to ask. She’s started talking again.

“Oh, okay, he’s by the kitchens tonight apparently. I guess he’s taking that half of the castle and I’m over here…” Namjoon cheers, and Y/n sighs as he reaches out to her, taking her wrist in his hand and dragging her out toward the grounds.

“That means he won’t even know you’re gone, that’s perfect!” Y/n rolls her eyes, but doesn’t stop him, letting him lead her away from her route.

“Okay, but can we make it quick? One of the prefects might see us through a window or something.” Namjoon sighs, and Y/n watches the back of his head while he scolds her for worrying too much.

“Can’t you just enjoy this nice little walk with me? It’s a beautiful night!” He releases her wrist, spreading his arms out and spinning slowly, smiling up at the moon before meeting her eyes. He notices she’s pointing down at his hand, the one that hadn’t been holding her.

“Then why’d you bring that sweater?” He lifts his left hand, shrugging as he looks at the blue and silver knit sweater.

“The castle gets chilly at night--”

“But you were going to come outside anyway, and it’s not that chilly out here--”

“I was preparing for you to say no to my idea--”

“Are you sure you brought that for you?” Namjoon scoffs, throwing her a look of disbelief.

“Does it look like I brought it for you?” Y/n keeps her eyes locked on him, raising an eyebrow for emphasis. He finally cracks under her gaze, sighing in annoyance and tossing the sweater to her.

“Whatever, just don’t get anything on it.” He walks away from her in a hurry, wandering down to the lake. Y/n is sure by the shake of his head that he can hear her laughing. She hurries down to join him, singing playfully at him as she goes.

“Namjoon likes me, Namjoon likes me!” He hears her chant and can’t stop himself from yelling out at the lake in frustration before turning to her.

“How did they make you Head Girl? You’re a child!” Y/n doesn’t say anything about the redness around his ears, choosing instead to tug on his arm, pulling him closer to the lake. Releasing him, she jogs the rest of the way to the edge of the water, calling out to the giant squid and joking that maybe it’ll hear her and come to greet them. She bends down and dips her fingers into the water before, rather enthusiastically, yelling back toward Namjoon.

“This water’s cold as fuck!” Without a second thought, she’s slipping on the sweater in her hand and wrapping her arms around herself, realizing and just as quickly pushing away the thought that Namjoon smelled a lot like firewood and fresh ink. On the edge of her consciousness, replacing her previous and mildly embarrassing thought, she registers a pleasant feeling seeping into her body. It starts slow, then emerges quickly, crashing over her like a wave -- the feeling of adoration. It’s an emotional trigger that her body has come over time to recognize as her soulmate’s. It overtakes her for a moment, then fades to allow her own body’s emotions to return. It’s been happening every day since she was 11, but she’s never been able to get used to it. She’s heard before that no one ever really gets used to it, the force of someone else’s emotions a shock to the body every time.

Breathing deeply in order to process that wave of emotion, Y/n turns her head and finds that Namjoon’s settled onto a cluster of rocks not too far away, and, more interestingly, that he’s already looking at her. He pats the spot next to him before leaning back on his hands, gazing up at the sky. Y/n makes her way there, hopping carefully across rocks in order to get to him. She only realizes that he’s watching her out of the corner of his eye when she miscalculates her next step and slips, her arms reaching out to grab hold of something.

In the time it takes her to yell out for help, her hand is being gripped and she’s tugged roughly in the exact opposite direction that she’s been falling. Against her will, she faceplants into something warm, the dull sound of thumping filling her ears, much like a heartbeat. It’s followed by a rumble of laughter, and she realizes that this something smells a lot like firewood and fresh ink. Pulling back, the first thing Y/n notices is how long Namjoon’s eyelashes are, and that’s how she knows she’s very close.

“Thanks.” She breathes out the word, still a bit in shock, but most certainly not from the fall. It’s as if she’s hyperfocused on his eyes -- those eyes that fold into half moons when he smiles -- but her own eyes are drawn just as quickly to that very smile. That very smile which reveals his dimples as if they’re secrets of the universe. That very smile which pulls her attention to his lips like a magnet, so much so that she can feel herself leaning into it, encouraged by the fact that he’s not pulling away --

Wait. What the hell am I doing?

Y/n blinks hard and stops, putting her hand of Namjoon’s chest to steady herself. He blinks in just as much confusion before pulling his head back and releasing her as if she’d burned him.

“Uh--” He steps back, breathing hard as he thinks of something to say. “Maybe we should--”

He’s about to suggest that they head back into the castle, but a note being slapped to his forehead cuts him off. He pulls the note away from his face, turning it to read the word DETENTION stamped across it in bold letters. Lifting his eyes, Namjoon takes in the sight of Y/n half-sprinting across the grounds toward the castle, and he can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes him. Shaking his head, he glances back down at the detention slip before laughing fully, shoving the note into his pocket as he makes his way slowly back to his room.

“This girl, I swear…”

#bts texts #bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts soulmate au #bts hogwarts au #kim namjoon #namjoon texts #namjoon x reader

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tata-is-the-name · 5 years ago

Text

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 9)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST PAGE (FOR ALL FICS/ONESHOTS)

CHAPTER 8

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Geralt seemed to be rather mulish on sending you home after the incident back in the marketplace. Now, it was time for him to find a djinn, a djinn that could get you back home. Though, it may not be quite easy now because of feelings that couldn't be said out loud.

Warnings: Soft Geralt and Reader. In denial reader and also Geralt. (Very in denial lmao) Mention of Superman. 😉 An iron-willed Geralt because he's one stubborn witcher even though we all know he’s enchanted enough. Sigh. GERALT. 😫😣 (Kind of a filler chapter? Not much is going on. The next chapter will be filled with it. Hehehehe. Thank you!)

Words: 4.7k

A/N: WE’RE GOING TO HAVE THE FINAL CHAPTER FOR THIS FIC ON MY NEXT UPDATE. DUE TO GERALT’S PERSISTENT ATTITUDE. WE’LL GIVE THE WITCHER WHAT HE WANTS. FINE THEN. LMAO, JKJK! I’M PROLLY GONNA RECEIVE HATE ANONS AFTER SAYING THIS. HAHAHAHHHAHA!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well. If you own the GIFs please do tell me so I can credit ya. Thank you!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Your muscles spasmed. The wound on your hip making you flinch and weakly whimper. Cold sweat filling your face as your hair was slightly damp from the towel that was draped across your forehead; slightly dry from the how many hours it was already there.

Heartbeat running miles after miles and a very disturbed heart from the dream you've had; you abruptly fluttered your eyes opened as you were met with the widest clothed back you have ever seen, your heart now panicking as you were wondering who it was. Uttering soft protests of the word 'ouch' filled the dimly lit room as you hardly used an elbow as support; trying to get a proper image of who was sleeping on the farthest end of the bed, giving you space that would show deepest respect.

Though, his burly form looked ridiculous over the small space he had to rest; leaving you having most of his bed.

His shoulders evidently raised as he gave out an obvious sigh of tiredness. Even though, your chills slowly died down and you were breathing in deeply and in a calm manner, every soft whimper that came out of your lips as you wanted to speak for the dream you had was keeping him wide awake.

Also, he was fully clothed and Geralt was darn not used to it as he sleeps.

The witcher was rather used to sleeping bare.

Those wide width of a shoulder suddenly turned around to your heed, lately realizing that his hair was chalky white and freely falling all over the pillows. Your bed warmer cautiously turned around, those peepers never fluttering open as he turned to face you; a puff of breath leaving his lips in enervation.

It was Geralt. Surprisingly.

"Geralt?" your breath was caught in your throat by the unexpected scene that a witcher was laying beside you when you were used to sleeping out in the kitchen. Also, for the undeniably fact that he was beyond gorgeous as he slept as well. "---I'm dreaming again, am I?" you've tightly squinted your eyes shut before opening them again to see him still there like a dream you never want to ruin, "---You're sleeping beside me," you thought out loud in complete utter astonishment, feeling the butterflies inside your stomach fly wildly. You've had your palms over your eyes, trying to cover yourself from the heat that wanted to travel to your face, "---I'm dreaming...I'm dreaming,"

Due to his heightened senses; which can be a pain in the ass sometimes, he could hear your heart beat thumping fast, making him open an eye while the other was shut just to see you covering your face in perturbed embarrassment.

Were you panicking right now? Yes. Yes, you were because Geralt's face was in front of you. Though, an arm far enough for you to keep your thoughts straight.

He'd kept one hand under his pillow as he completely fluttered both eyes opened, peering back at you with weary; a want to chuckle from how your thoughts seem to be crashing over one another, "You're dreaming, midget."

You peeked under your slightly opened fingers, "I know....I am," an abrupt long pause came with your statement midway, trailing off as you've felt the air cease from entering your lungs by how you were mesmerized by the beauty he served.

Those Aurum eyes were undeniably marvelous beneath the candle light. Totally blinding from how beautiful he looked with those glowing peepers staring back at you with tangible softness that powdered your insides in such a way that caught you in a charm that you never had before.

Maybe, this was the best dream you ever had. More so than the nightmare from a while ago that couldn't get you moving.

"Those...knights, bandits, villains or whatsoever," you started with a tone full of ire. Confidently staring back at the witcher who was gazing back at you in curiosity; waiting for your next rant like a behaved pup. You had a teeny tiny bit of confidence to rave out because you knew that everything was just a dream, just like the one you had prior, "---They're...they're bad guys. They're boogers!"

The smile was inevitable to come through him. His moist, cherry lips forming in an adorable crescent moon that made your heart flutter like no other. You shifted on the bed, tilting your head to get a better view of those rare beams he was having; wanting the image to last longer.

"They're what?"

There was a slip of his teeth, making him appear captivating more than ever; like a toothy grin when you've uttered your last words with spite yet utter tenderness which came dripping off the letters. He found it adorable, to be honest. Especially, your wrath that doesn't last long enough for your kind heart.

A kind heart that wouldn't deserve his.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," your lips jutted in a pout as you could feel that he was giving back a teasing, playful ridicule. His hand that hid underneath his pillows made him even appear more sweet despite of his intimidating, strong persona, "---Actually, I might when I can get you smiling like that,"

Geralt's beam fell as you mentioned the obvious. He'd gruffly cleared his throat; mouth forming a thin line just how you'd imagine him as always. Briefly looking away before he'd heard a fetching, accidental tee-hee that sputtered music out of your mouth; making the witcher ogle back from how your smiles twinkled like the stars in the night; forming an alignment that felt so just and perfect.

When your giggles fleeted, you couldn't help but drowsily blink back at the witcher who was keeping you under his scrutiny; being pulled by his magnetic, brooding charm as he was silently eyeing you like he had something to say but chose to stay silent like he always do.

"You're...beautiful," it was abrupt. A vulnerability of your heart speaking out the truth. Geralt stayed silent, his thoughts utterly kept to himself as he continued his silence, "---How can I be as beautiful as you?"

The witcher raised a brow as he said his next words; patiently, soft, and deep, "You can't, because what I am and what I do doesn't make me one,"

Your lips thrown a frown at that as the heart could also feel what your emotions have been experiencing. He probably had that engraved inside his head since the day he was a monster-slayer.

Though, you never believed that because deep down you trusted your intuitions that he was a good man no matter what he says.

"You know how rough looking you put as a facade? But, you're actually a pillow on the inside?" his deep grumble of protest that vibrated out of his chest was enough for you to know that he was complaining and utterly objecting for the fact you've shared, "That's you, Rivia."

The latter hummed in amusement, "That's not a name," he jarred, a vague toned down hiss as he deeply stared into your eyes. Your misunderstanding about reading what more could you say to make him feel different in a good way; got you confused and thought he was giving you a glare. But, you were never scared of his death stares as you played it off with a playful banter, "Ohhhh, laser eyes. Superman style with gold peepers!"

Yet again, Geralt's eyebrows suddenly twisted in bafflement from the name; finding it hilarious as how it sounded child-like for him and completely out of the box; never hearing it before and wouldn't plan to hear it again.

You've waved off his curiosity about your modern references and grinned from ear to ear, peering up at him like a cat, "May I repeat," pause. "---That's you, Geralt."

He left it as that. The moment letting it flow as he stayed quiet.

The way you smiled made the latter sigh; having this kind of connection with another person was fulfilling; leaving that hollow part of him in bliss as he remembered how long it already was since the last time he'd have a proper conversation with another that involved pure chastity. Yours was even beguiling to begin with as there were no fornication happening; nevertheless, it leaves him on cloud nine.

An idiosyncrasy that he couldn't decipher nor understand.

You carefully shifted on his bed, trying to slightly move your body if it was possible and you were surprised that you could, feeling the wound numb like there had been medication, "If this is a dream, then I don't want to wake up," another pause. Geralt tiredly blinked another, his long eyelashes tempting you to flick them when he sleeps, "---because at the end of the day, you're back to being mean to me by ignoring my presence even though I'd been good to you since that night,"

You've gave a quiet, grudging huff at the witcher who was eyeing you in utmost curiosity as you've boldly scooted closer and closer. His engrossment making him narrow his eyes back at you when you've positioned yourself to the fore of his prominent, clothed, thick chest.

"What are you doing?" he gruffly questioned in utmost peculiarity, scooting closer to his body which made his body tense at the sudden action. Your succulent scent giving him another headache for whatever mishaps it may bring.

You even had the guts on laying on his strong biceps, scooting closer to his chest as he was stunned, wanting to move you away but never planned to. His jaw clenched as he exhaled a heavy breath, "---getting cuddles from my dream boat because this is a dream that I don't want to wake up," your face was inches away from his chest, hair tousled over his arm as he peered down in a flabbergast flash of his eyes.

"Your warmth is...palpable, kinda' weird for a dream," your voice seemed to be incoherent as you were flushed close to his chest, finding his warmth totally comfortable for you; too comfortable for the butterflies in your stomach having the jitters as you fluttered your eyes closed.

There was deep, labored breaths before you've felt his muscles steadily took its time to relax from your brazen act. Yet, it kept the witcher's eyes wide open as he waited for you to doze off before he does; that is if he could after having you near him and feeling intense emotions.

That was the problem with witchers who had the capability of feeling emotions. The way they felt about things were stronger and potent than normal people do.

He'd heard a yawn before feeling your forehead fall on his chest as you drowsed off with another large yawn, "Well, good night, Geralt from my dreams. I hope the real witcher stops being a meanie,"

Then, you were already in deep slumber.

It took an hour or maybe two for Geralt to get his sleep, and for the first time in a whole damn year; the kip he had felt like forever and definitely worthwhile.

The witcher finally got the sleep he wanted, although it could only be temporary.

The family seemed to have a plan ahead for their day. They've tagged you along even though your wound was still fresh. Shocking you to say the least as you felt no pain when you've woken up all alone this morning. There were fresh herbs and some plants that were crushed into grains to help your neuropathic pain that the wound has been causing.

You've woken up like a cat on a hot tip roof. Those dreams you had leaving you wondering too deep that you were thinking about how real your second dream was. Geralt and you on a bed? Sleeping like you're his other half? The idea was pretty much an ambition you could never reach. Being attached to him would surely complicate things when you weren't even from their world. You were acting as if playing with your heart wasn't painful as having a wound to your hip when you finally leave them for good.

Now, hearing the idea of leaving their family kept you on edge. There was the negations that make you want to stay despite of having your own life in earth. Sure, you had a family out there and was probably busy with their own life that they didn't realize you were gone. Though, you weren't sure because maybe they actually thought you were already dead after drowning on a lake and not remembering why it happened.

You were slightly taking a peek under your mustard colored long sleeved shirt, feeling the tight leather pants that was hugging your legs in a way that made you feel confident and comfortable. It has never been your go-to style before but you were already digging it now.

"You used magic for my wounds, didn't you?" every step you take towards where Jaskier, Cirilla, Geralt and Kolby where was great as you feel no pain. An utter miracle despite of seeing your wounds still fresh but slightly healing, quicker than how the medicines work in earth, "---Why can't I feel anything?"

You've changed your whole outfit for the journey ahead; hoping for a bath to relieve the sweat and tension away but you've noticed how it would require for water fetching with a pail of water and tons of going back and forth before you fill the wooden tub with water and you decided that it can wait.

Their wisecracking stopped when they've heard you take a flight down the patio, you've timidly and cautiously tucked your strands of hair behind your ears, feeling their heat of their stares boring holes especially the witcher's.

Geralt scanned you from head to toe, unintentionally licking his lips as he broke his gaze away from you when your eyes shifted on him. The latter went on in brushing the mane's hair, acting like he wasn't even looking prior before, "The healer gave you something more potent for your wounds, Midget."

You've also given him a once over; loving the casual outfit he was wearing aside from his dramatic armor that was perfect for a war zone. His fit made him look ravishing and breath taking. An unexpected huff of heavy breath slipped pass your lips as you blinked repeatedly to snap yourself out from being enchanted by his beauty, "You mean, a quack doctor?" you managed to get yourself together despite of how his presence caught you off guard.

"You...get it? Quack quack? A bogus?"

There was a subtle clear of your throat from your disturbing thoughts and by the pun that certainly wasn't understood by the people around you. With Jaskier and Cirilla looking at you in oddity and Geralt ignoring your attempt in delivering it smoothly, you knew your joke was already dead before it was even told.

Witchers don't read minds, right? you mentally asked yourself out of panic because of your thoughts before the pun. Kolby barked in his own way and came running towards you, leaning his head for you to pet. In the course of action, the adorable Hirikka pulled back in curiosity; loudly sniffing in the air as his head abruptly snapped to where your covered bandage was.

To your surprise, the Hirikka growled at it. His sharp teeth appearing as it snarled and looked furious as he eyed your hip; those doe, dark yellow eyes full of hostility as he continued his guttural growls that made you pull back your hands like you've been cauterized.

Geralt was quick to notice his sudden animosity towards you. The witcher instantly knew why it was reacting that way with just one look. Kolby was hating who'd hurt you, probably not just him alone because there was someone who also did. It was definitely a new fact that he knew about Hirikkas, they actually care.

Monsters still care. They do have a heart.

The witcher immediately and sharply whistled back at the Hirikka with a scolding sound. Just the sound alone made the bard hide behind Roach and it made Geralt roll his eyes for his call for cover. "Kolby." he firmly rebuked, trying to snap him out of it and calling the Hirikka with the name you'd chose for him; an automatic response of your brow raising when the Hirikka straightened its back and questioningly looked back at the witcher who was unfazed by the whole situation.

Here you thought he actually finds naming monsters or pets idiotic. You were definitely wrong.

"He's one of the best healers in the village," out of the blue, the witcher gladly informed you as he turned his body and cease from brushing Roach's hair to give you his sole attention. Regarding you with a faint smile and a pang of warmth that surely gave yourself a slap to the face because of how he was treating you...differently today, "---You were in good hands, so cease the worry."

He was rather calm and collected. A lot more than he usually was and it was utterly astonishing and delightful from his brooding ones.

At that final commentary, you were sure you'd seen his face twist in a more apparent beam as he'd sauntered to where Jaskier is; not letting you see what the bard saw. His face now stoic like those smiles you've seen had been a faux or rather a split second of your imagination.

You've stared hard at the witcher who stood beside Jaskier; acknowledging the hard shove at the bard who'd stumbled upon Roach's hip, his loud complaints muddled when Cirilla was hopping towards you with a toothy smile and a playful glint of her eyes.

"Geralt took care of you last night," she happily spoke, her eyes teasing and utterly giving malice at the fact that you slept on the witcher's bed. Was your dream true then? Did Geralt sleep beside you as you imagined it to be? Or he hadn't slept at all, checked how you were then went out to go do some witcher duties because he wasn't beside you when you woke up?

"I doubt, Cirilla."

The princess gave a playful shrug of her shoulders, grabbing onto Kolby's head and giving him a soft pat, "Suit yourself then, Y/N. It won't hurt to believe me,"

Jaskier fought from stumbling down by how the witcher pushed him back after teasing him about you. His grin falling when he was shoved by the stomach like he has been low-key punched.

The bard gave a set of coughs before loudly clearing his throat and placing his palms on his hips. A knowing look sent to the witcher as Geralt was fixing Roach's nose bands, "As far as I remember, I didn't want to include myself in this Djinny journey of yours again," Jaskier spat as a matter of fact, raising a finger to prove his point.

The witcher scoffed from his complaints; regretting why he was coming with, "Why the sudden change of heart, Jaskier?" his tone was somewhat playful no matter how gruff he sounded. Quite noticeable for Jaskier as he was used to his grumpy attitude since the last two years, "---I thought you wanted to be my travel companion?"

Jaskier wasn't ready for that banter and appeared to look like he was choking in his own words. He stumbled in his own words, ocean eyes shining in disbelief, "Not--not for another Djinn!"

The witcher turned his heel to give the bard a mocking grin, "You sound like a wailing bairn," he hummed, lowly chuckling at the bard who was totally awestruck at how he woke up on the good side of the bed this morning based on how his aurum eyes was twinkling underneath the rays of the sun, "---Besides, what's wrong in having your throat punched by the Djinn for the second time?"

"Oh bullocks, Geralt!" the bard huffed, subtly grabbing onto his own throat as the memories were slowly coming back to him and he shivered in trauma, feeling them crawl back to him like a kikimore, "---Leave my throat alone!"

"It's like hitting two birds in one stone," Geralt sent another sally, features creased in utter amusement, "---I get to help the midget, while I get my peace as well,"

Geralt avoided his judging gazes, probably scrutinizing how he felt like the witcher in front of him was a different person and not the white wolf himself. He promenaded towards Roach's stable, collecting something for the horse before they go on to finding a Djinn for you.

Without a doubt, the bard tailed like a pup for his owner. Jaskier grinned like a Cheshire cat as he followed the witcher who grabbed onto a carrot; his brawny back on show as the bard continued to tease, "You're changing the subject. I know those flirtatious glint in your eyes when you were talking to the small rat!" Pause. "---You witchers aren't exactly sly as you think you are,"

Geralt fully turned to give him a grimace, his impish aura falling from the bard's continuous teasing. Golden eyes giving him a sharp look, "Aha! You're flirting! You're trying to flirt with her!"

The witcher rolled his eyes at the bard's accusation. Jaskier entirely misunderstood his scowl, thinking that he caught him red handed or maybe it was actually him who misunderstands himself?

"---In good hands, huh? You obviously took care of her last night! However, that subtle flirting isn't quite exceptional for a witcher who already bedded a lot of women back in the brothels! Thought you were good with the ladies?"

Geralt scoffed from his plain retort, mouth tightly forming a frown as he tried to appear unamused at the situation at hand, "Did I stutter? I didn't tell her that her neck looks like a sexy goose, Did I?"

Jaskier's grin fell from the moment he said 'goose'. He crossed his arms against his chest and puffed out his chest like he was trying to overpower the witcher. His eyes filled with annoyance, "That's quite...offending, Witcher. Let's not cry over spilled milk already!"

Geralt ignored his endless protestations and jests, striding out of the stable to walk back towards Roach and stopping short as he'd seen you playing catch with Cirilla; a hungry player staying in the middle as you were throwing the apple with Kolby who was having fun as he tried jumping high to catch the food that was being thrown.

Jaskier's voice was like a fairy buzzing from behind, his banters were deathless. Though, Geralt certainly didn't mind the noise. Especially when those noises came also from the giggles that you and his child of surprise have been sharing in the midst of a huge problem you were currently experiencing.

It was like you had no problems at all as your eyes and smile twinkled against the sunlight. Those crescent shape of your peepers as you laugh was making you much more adorable than you can ever be.

Hence, the witcher was mesmerized by what you brought to him despite of being in a world full of chaos and beasts.

Your mere presence was bringing him sunshine and rainbows like he'd never seen before.

"I...." the witcher trailed off in a daze as he felt Jaskier stand beside him. The bard gave you a once over and even to Geralt when he tried to see whom bewitched the poor witcher, "---really do hope she's annoyed enough to wish for you to shut up after all the arguments you've had with the midget,"

Jaskier knew he didn't mean that in a bad way. He'd known Geralt for a long, long time now and the moment he'd shut him up back when he was attacked by a Djinn, the witcher came to his aid and tried his best for him to heal. No matter how many times he refuses to call him his friend prior to those days, his actions tell otherwise.

Geralt of Rivia was a witcher who was capable of having a heart. Trying hard to become a better human as days go by.

The bard smirked at his enthralled reaction. Struggling to throw his lean arm around Geralt's wide shoulders as he also looked out in the open. Specifically, at the scene that was happening before them.

You've threw the apple back at Cirilla. The Hirikka finally having his treat as he jumped as high as he can and devoured the apple like a wolf, making you both laugh. Your vision catching the men of the house which appeared like they were watching you three play. Heat came rushing up your neck again from how the witcher was staring in fascination with a hint of earnest; the warmth spreading through your cheeks as you sheepishly smiled and gave a little wave to acknowledge their presence.

Geralt was definitely caught off guard at that and rapidly blinked, shifting away from the scene before him as he gruffly cleared his throat to himself before the bard started to jest again, "Why are we even bringing the monster?"

The witcher roughly hummed; irked by the fact that you caught him staring and that he was even looking. He was suddenly frustrated. "To protect Ciri," his harsh tone was back as he turned his head to peer down at the bard who had his arm over his shoulders like a pal.

"What? This creature's a knight now? Really, Geralt?"

The latter's forehead creased in utmost discontent, snapping back at the bard who was smirking like a villain, "---To protect her from annoying bards like you who wails like a lass,"

He'd elbowed Jaskier that made him groan, immediately caressing the part where it hurt the most and whimpered from the tolerable pain. Jaskier surely does forget he was a witcher sometimes and provoking him wasn't the brightest idea especially when he's stronger than him. The witcher turned around at his playful whack for the bard and ignored his dramatic groans of protests.

"Aww, what a way to treat your best friend, Geralt!"

Jaskier continued to go after the witcher, glaring at the back of his head that seemed like it needed a thorough bath already. Geralt stopped in his tracks when he was finally face to face with his horse, "So, our argument last night really didn't move you at all?" the bard probed; tone sounding free from the guilt at what started the argument they had last night.

Jaskier shrugged to brush his quietness, the witcher seeming to keep his mouth shut as he started giving his horse a treat, "---Cirilla seems to like her around,"

Geralt deeply sighed to show Jaskier his derision, "Even you too as well, Jaskier." his tone was utter lackadaisical.

"No, I don't!"

The witcher gave him a sassy raise of his brow; questioning his guilty tone that rose in his voice, "Really? your persuasive entreats to never get the Djinn wasn't your way of saying that you actually like her around?"

Jaskier sounded like he was backpaddling and lowered his voice down into something more quieter that covered those laughter of everyone in the background, "Perhaps, a little..."

The witcher shook his head in disdain. Just thinking about it was annoying him with a reason that should've been thrown out in the dumps and never be thought again. He would never let destiny play him this time. Destiny should go fuck itself; having more than one person to protect would be a disaster.

"Her existence in our world is only temporary," he grumbled with a frown, facial features turning stoic and unnerved; like he had all the problems in the world on his shoulders, "---her beautiful destiny would crumble in our dimension. It'll ruin her for good,"

Geralt continued, never realizing his tone would grow nastier and even more deeper. He gravelly spoke at the bard who kept silent with a frown on his face for the first time in the day, "---She deserves better than to live in a chock-full of evil. If you plan on wanting to keep her then I suggest you never do because she will never stay,"

Geralt sounded like he needs more convincing with the words that seemed to feel like vile coming out of his throat. Those precious laughter ringing in his ears pulling him in for a decision that would consider himself as selfish.

He wasn't a fortune teller nor one of the gods, but he can change your destiny. As long as it was still possible.

She deserves more than to have a destiny linked with a witcher. Y/N could do better.

You were safer off in your world. Far from the man who would give nothing but darkness in your fantasy brimful of a felicitous ending because with a witcher---?

There were no happy endings. Only murk and danger.

FEEDBACK ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, BB’S!! LOVE LOTS! ALWAYS STAY SAFE AND WATCH FOR MY NEXT UPDATES! AHONHONHON.

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