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silverstonesainz · 9 months

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august

─── august slipped away into a moment in time... 'cause it was never mine

daniel ricciardo x fem!reader warnings; just sad. 17.8 k words

Everything with Daniel came easy. It came naturally, beautifully, and all at once. It was a good thing.

You met him in August, under the scorching summer sun and bottomless margaritas. Between glasses of mango and lime, you bumped into him. He smiled, you smiled too, and the rest wrote itself. You were drunk– a little too drunk for three in the afternoon, but what was summer for? You stumbled on your feet, toes slipping through the straps of your flimsy shoes as you staggered for your own balance. And in a failed attempt to keep yourself upright, you reached out for a chair but instead found your fingers gripping onto the white linen of his shirt. His hands were quick to find their place on your torso, like it was always meant to be there, like he’d done this a million times before. Daniel helped you find your balance, knees bent so that he’s at your eye level. His smile was sobering, knocking the air right out of your lungs. Thank you was caught in your throat, even if your lips were parted to give them way. But you were rendered speechless.

“You alright?” He asked, the warmth of his hands seeping through the thin material of your sundress.

“Y-yeah.” You finally managed, putting your weight back onto your feet. “I’m alright.”

“Good. I’m Daniel, by the way.”

He let you go, and you missed him. He held his hand out of you to shake, one you gladly take as you tell him your name. He repeated with a smile. You were the first to pull your hand from his. “Could I buy you a drink? As a thank you, for saving me?”

He obliged. And after another strawberry– or was it watermelon? You couldn’t distinguish the details by then. All you could remember is that Daniel sat at the bar with you and laughed at jokes you’re sure made no sense. You have a vague memory of the party ending, of having to bid adieu even if you weren’t quite ready to say goodbye to your new friend. But that’s when your memory goes spotty and the next thing you know you’re waking up in yesterday’s clothes with a pounding in your head. The sun beckons a new day, your last day in Mykonos begs you to fight through your hangover to enjoy your last twenty-something hours in paradise. So you do. You rinsed all your mistakes under the cool water, flashes of honey brown eyes and a smile so wide it hurt your cheeks thinking about it.

Two texts sat waiting for you when you stepped out of the shower.

Unknown 9:19 AM Hey, it’s Daniel. Care to join me for breakfast?

You weren’t sure when you had given him your number, but you silently thanked your drunk-self for doing something sober-you could never muster the courage to do. By then, your friends had already gone on their final adventure, leaving you to recover in the hotel room. You had no plans for your last day, so you replied with a quick sure, and got ready.

Daniel is already sitting at the table when you make it down. He’s seated at the far corner of the hotel restaurant, nursing a cup of coffee as he read something on his phone. The nerves rattled your chest with every step you take, hoping silently that he would look up at you so you wouldn’t have to awkwardly announce your presence. And he did, setting his cup and phone down the closer you got. Hey you he says softly, standing from his chair to greet you with a hug.

He was warm, smelled of rain in the spring, of the happy earth after a downpour. He smelled like a backyard of freshly watered flowers, of home and comfort. You tried not to let yourself drown in it, but you know it would be something you’ll be chasing for the rest of your days.

You sat across from him, allowing small talk of the weather to unravel into a two hour conversation. You talked about work, about your best friend’s bachelorette party– the reason you were in Mykonos in the first place. You told him about your hopes and dreams, the silly ones and the serious ones. And he spoke of the world, of the places he’s traveled, the people he’s met. He made life sound so exciting, He speaks of life so happily, you were almost envious of him. His eyes glistened with every word, every laugh, every ounce of hope you could ever wish for yourself.

“So when do you leave?” Daniel asked, sipping on his water.

You blew out a sigh, “Tomorrow morning.”

It was the first time you saw him frown. A deep frown that had his lips curved down and brows furrowed. That’s too soon he complained. It was. It was far too soon, but you didn’t have the heart to admit it outloud. So you nodded, a soft hum buzzing past your closed lips as you brought your hot tea up to your mouth.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” You shook your head. “Would you let me take up your time then?”

You could feel your cheeks turn red, heat rising to the tips of your ears. Daniel smiled, eyes wide and bright like they knew what your answer was going to be. How could you deny him?

Daniel didn’t have much of a plan, but it didn’t matter. You enjoyed his company, you enjoyed the laughter and the way he looked at you. You walked the streets, played tourist with him. You walked in and out of shops, convincing each other you needed this little knickknack and that tacky magnet. And by the end of it, you had handfuls of cheesy souvenirs to remember the day by.

The last stop was the gift shop in the hotel lobby. You followed each other up and down the aisles of the little store, past overpriced snacks and toiletries. Sneaky glances and smiles after catching the other, you and Daniel play cat and mouse throughout the store till you part ways. You found yourself spinning the display of touristy jewelry. Leather straps, tarnishable chains, with beachy charms attached. Flowers, a turtle, even a single wave. You stole a glance at Daniel who looked up at the shirt selections, flipping through the sizes in search of his own. A bit of sadness settled in your chest as you came to realize that the end of your day– of your time– with Daniel was coming slow & torturous. You ached at the thought, biting on the inside of your cheek as you crouch down to get a better view of the adjustable bracelets.

You met him at the register with an exchange of sad smiles. You paid for your stuff, he paid for his. And as you stepped out of the gift shop, your heart lacked a heaviness you had been expecting. The sadness was there, but no dread. You stopped with a soft stomp, turning on your heel to look up at Daniel. He stared down at you with a certain kind of softness, the smile maybe a bit dampened by the incoming goodbyes that you were yet to exchange, but you had an inkling that it wouldn’t be the last time you were going to see him.

“Thank you for today,” You said softly, “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too.”

Silence. Shifty feet. An unwillingness to say farewell.

You looked down at your small gift bag, pushing around the crumpled receipts to pull out a bracelet. It had black, adjustable straps, looped through dark blue beads. You held it out to him, “For you. Something to remember…”

Remember what? You couldn’t say. But Daniel understood. He took it, ripped apart the plastic and slipped it on. He shook it on his wrist, smiling up at you like a kid who did something right. Then he was fishing his bags until he pulled out his own little gift to you. He held it out in his palm, a silver keychain with a photo of the windmills in the middle of it, uttering the same words you had moments before. Something to remember. You took it with a soft thank you, holding it tight in your fist.

This was it, the impending goodbye, the inevitable end to it all. Neither of you wanted to say it, to end the chapter– close the book.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” He asked hopefully, the grip on his bags suddenly tighter.

You smiled. “I’ll visit you in Monaco.”

“I’ll visit you in London.”

“Okay.”

One breath. Inhale. Exhale.

You threw your arms around him, savored the way his own found solace around your middle. You tried to memorize the way it felt to be in his arms, the smell of the fresh rain– the feeling of home. You’d known the man for twenty-four hours and yet, all this came easy. Melting into him, picturing the rain, promises of flying country to country, it all came so easy.

His hands rubbed your sides as you pulled away from him. Safe travels, doll.

You too Danny.

Maybe walking away wasn’t the easiest thing, to turn your back on him while silently wishing he would stop you. You wished you lived in a movie where the guy impeded your travel plans. Because truth be told, if Daniel asked you to stay a little longer, you might’ve done it. But you made it to the elevator all by yourself, turned to catch a final glimpse of Daniel, who stood in the same place you left him. He lifted his hand, waved one more time before the doors shut. You huffed a sigh, tried to turn your focus to repacking your luggage. Your friends were all back in the room, pestering you on your whereabouts. But you smiled, shrugged your shoulders as you let the day behind you play in the back of your mind.

You finished packing most of your things by ten that evening, promptly falling asleep as the exhaustion from walking all day swallowed you whole. Your dreams were filled with fantasies of a boy with curly hair and honey brown eyes, and his warmth engulfing you. It was pleasant, comforting, homey.

And in the middle of all that good, your eyes sprung open. You had a sudden burst of energy, unable to fall back asleep even if your flight wasn’t for another five hours. You tossed and turned, trying to find a sweet spot that would allow you to slip back into a slumber. But to no avail, it’s three-thirty and there was no hope in falling asleep. You sighed, sitting up and reaching over to grab your phone off the nightstand. Your phone pinged. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Daniel 3:32 AM Are you awake? Please say you’re awake

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

You 3:33 AM I’m awake.

Daniel 3:33 AM Good. Meet in the lobby. PJs mandatory.

You’re giddy, slipping out of bed as quickly and quietly as you can. You grabbed your room key and cellphone, slipped on your slippers, before taking the elevator. The doors slid open, revealing Daniel standing in the same place you left him. His smile was contagious, making your cheeks hurt as you took quick steps over to him. He held his hand out, palm facing up as he mocked a bow while whispering a soft m’lady.

You grinned, taking his hand and letting him whisk you away. You walked the length of the hotel beach, up and down, chasing your shadows given by the warm lamps that illuminate your path. Your toes dug into the wet sand, leaving an imprint of yourself with every step. You bumped shoulders with Daniel, exchanged sleepy smiles, all too happy to bask in the other’s company for a moment longer. Finally, Daniel pulled you down on the sand by him, higher up the property, but still close enough to the threat of the tide. The stars glimmered, twinkled down at you.

“Why were you up?” You asked, turning to look at him. You traced the arch of his nose as he stared up at the sky, traced the curls that lay on his forehead. Daniel blew out a breath through puckered lips, shrugging.

“Why were you?”

The question rested in the air above them, leaving the other to assume the answer. Another comfortable silence, accompanied by the ocean coming and receding. Fingers unknowingly inch closer and closer, begging to be laced between each other. But they danced on the sand, pinkies brushing but never linking.

It’s Daniel’s turn to look at you. His turn to trace the curve of your lips, the curl of your lashes, to commit you to memory. “I want to see you again.”

You smiled, coughed a laugh. “I leave in a couple hours Daniel.”

“Yeah I know. But… we could meet again.”

You turned your head. You searched for the joke, for the punchline, the goofy smile followed by light-hearted laughter. But all Daniel did was smile. Lips touching, dimples deep. His eyes read with so much hope, it sent your heart into a frenzy.

“We could.”

He grinned. “We could.”

You nodded, teeth digging into your bottom lip to hide the dopey smile that threatened to peek through.

There weren’t many words exchanged for the remainder of the hour. You memorized the placement of the stars in the night sky, the sound of the tide rolling to and fro. You remembered the night exactly as it was: just you, Daniel, and the world quietly watching.

The fifth hour rolled around, forcing you on your feet. Your hands found themselves in Daniel’s, giggling as you tried to pull him up onto his feet with you. You brushed away the sand, shook out your hair. You looked up at Daniel as he did the same, smiling over at him when he looked at you. The walk back to the lobby was slow, filled with small talk about the weather and travel plans. He rode the elevator up to your floor, walked you to your door, just as a gentleman does. He tucks your hair back, chuckles softly.

“I’ll text you.”

“And I’ll respond.”

He smiled, taking a step backwards, “I’ll see you soon.”

Another step back, and another, and another until he’s at the end of the hall and waving at you. You stood at your door, watching him leave, waving back before he turned the corner and disappeared. You tapped your key against the door, unlocking it and shut it softly. With your back pressed against the hardwood, you exhaled softly. Head in your hands and a hole in your chest in the shape of Daniel. You felt crazy, maybe a little delirious. Another huff, another hopeful sigh as you pushed yourself off the door and got ready to fly home.

The morning flew past you. Between security lines and scrambling to buy some coffee, you barely had a moment to breathe. And when you finally did find the time, all you could think of was Daniel. Of his laughter, the smell of his cologne, the sweet promise to see each other soon. You slipped your phone out of your pocket, a bit disappointed at the lack of a text. But it was half-past seven in the morning, the man must’ve been asleep… right?

You boarded the plane, buckled yourself into your seat minutes before eight. Still not a single text from the Australian. Your fingers hovered above your keyboard, thumbs shaking as you searched for the words to say to him.

You 7:56 AM Don’t forget about me.

And after four hours, when the plane touched down in Heathrow, you took your phone off airplane mode. Notifications come rolling through, emails from work, a missed call from mom, and one text from the man himself.

Daniel 10:05 AM Never

You learned how much Daniel loved Monza in September. He found victory in his despair there, saw the triumphs and falls of so many racers before him. Daniel loved Monza.

Daniel 11:03 AM The energy is great, you should’ve come out.

The invite was on the table, he had asked you two weeks ago if it was something you’d be interested in attending. You should’ve said yes– any sane person would’ve. But you couldn’t, as much as you wanted to see him again, to be able to talk to him in person and just be with him, you couldn’t say yes. You’d never be able to explain it, other than the fact that you were shy, and holding onto a bit of your Mykonos fantasy. You liked living in a world where your friendship was only something between you and Daniel. You liked the bit of distance, found comfortability in it. At least for now.

So you opted to keep up with him through text and the telly. You exchanged messages until he had to set his phone down, then watched each session, each day. Practice. Qualifying. Race Day.

You 12:01 PM Good luck. I’ll be here for the debrief.

The debrief was a series of texts, mostly from Daniel. It’s every broken hope, every could’ve, should’ve, would’ve that ever crossed his mind. It was you trying to console a broken spirit, to reignite something in him that was already dead. He took your words with grace every time, even if you both knew he didn’t believe a single letter of it.

You 12:02 PM You’re gonna do great.

Daniel 12:04 PM It’s gonna be great.

You smiled at the optimism, at least you hoped that’s what it was. You sat back on race day, watched every second of coverage– from the driver’s parade to the pre-race talk. You saw glimpses of Daniel, of the beloved honey badger. And oh how everyone loved Daniel. Everyone rooted for Daniel, to bring glory to a gloriless team like he had just one year prior. Oh how everyone believed in Daniel too, even if he didn’t quite believe in himself.

Daniel loved Monza, even if Monza didn’t love him back.

It was a painful watch, the final lap of the race was coming into view… and then his car sprung a leak. And that was it, that was the end. Goodbye to the glory, goodbye to the hope.

You didn’t expect to hear from him that night, so it was to your surprise when your phone pinged as his name appeared on your screen. You set your little late-night snack aside, leaning back into the couch as you open the message.

Daniel 9:00 PM Wish you came anyways. Would’ve made the weekend worth its while

You smiled.

You 9:01 PM Next time. Promise.

Daniel 9:03 PM Next time <3

Daniel facetimed you for the first time in October. It caught you off guard. You had been exchanging texts with him since you had seen him last, an occasional voice note from you or him, but it was never anything more than that.

You were cooking dinner. Your hair was up in a disarray, looped carelessly through an elastic in hopes to cool your body down from the heat in your kitchen. You had marinara sauce on the collar of your old high school t-shirt, and you looked less than flattering in the maroon basketball shorts from an ex-boyfriend long long ago. But he was calling, his name and face occupying your screen. He was interrupting a video you were watching because he was calling.

You swiped your phone across the screen, holding it up to give a view of your shoulders to the top of your head. Daniel smiled, wet curls stuck to his forehead. He was clad in black hoodie, airpods tucked into his ears. You hadn’t seen him so happy post-race, the string of bad results and over all bad luck had been wearing him down. You knew it, he knew it, hell the whole world knew it. But here he was, smiling like he had won the whole damn thing.

He said your name like it tasted sweet, dripping like honey from his lips. “Did you watch?”

You propped your phone against the towel holder, shaking your head as you do. “No, I was working on a project. I meant to watch the highlights while I ate dinner.”

“What are you cooking?”

“Pasta.” You felt your cheeks heat up. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“This is the third night in a row.”

“I just need something quick. Pasta’s always quick!” You defended.

He rolled his eyes playfully, biting back a smile. You saw it in the way his cheeks began to round, lips pursed. “Well hurry up. I’ll be your highlight reel for dinner.”

True to his word, Daniel gave you the brief play-by-play of his race in Singapore, the whopping fifth-place finish– best finish he’s had all year. You listened intently, shoveling penne pasta and red sauce into your mouth. You listened and listened, even if he repeated the same moment over and over, with the same excitement, same enthusiasm like he was back in the moment. There was a twinkle in his eyes, the slight inflection in his tone as the words spilled from his mouth. It made your heart soar for him, it made you happy to see him.

But then someone flipped a switch, the mood suddenly dampened as his eyes trailed off camera and his smile slowly began to fade. You pushed your empty bowl aside, pulling your phone closer to you. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

He sighed, “I just wish it was always like this, you know? Miss feeling this… this good after a race. God and it’s almost ridiculous how happy I am for P5. P-fucking-5. But it feels like I’m on the podium. I just wish I had felt this all year.”

You didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? You couldn’t exactly relate or empathize, and you know that the last thing he needed was your sympathy. He’d been getting sympathy since he had lost his seat, and the last thing he needed was to hear it from you. So you hum, pulling his gaze back to you.

“I’m proud of you.”

“You say that all that time.” He scrunched his nose, a teasing expression almost as if he didn't believe you. .

“Maybe because it’s true.” You snarked back, biting back a smile.

A brief pause. You watched his honey brown eyes dart around the screen, staring at you. At every freckle and beauty mark, surely the smeared mascara under your eyes or the faded color that stained your lips. But he wore a smile, wore a bit of adoration and… god you couldn’t identify what that ‘and’ was, but it was nice.

“Thanks.”

He kept you company for the rest of the evening, even sat on the phone staring at your bedroom ceiling while you showered and got ready for bed. And when you finally rolled into your duvet, hair brushed and skincare, Daniel was snoring softly on the phone. It was four in the morning in Singapore, the weekend had finally worn him down. You only indulged in the serenity for a moment, before whispering a quick goodnight Daniel and hanging up.

He called again when he got to Japan, showed you the tiny hotel room he had in Tokyo, gave you a list of places he and Lando planned to visit.

He called before he flew out to L.A. When he landed. When he traveled to and from and across the States until COTA weekend came around.

Daniel never stopped calling, and you never hesitated to answer.

Daniel gave you a nickname in November. You argued about it over the phone, while you packed your work bag for the following Monday. You had him propped up on your nightstand, phone leant up against your lamp. He laughed at your reaction, the grimace on your face as he called you again.

“Oh come on toots, I think it’s cute.” You shook your head, “Why not?”

“I’m not toots Daniel.” You slipped your new pens into the little pocket in your purse, “Look at me, do I look like a toots?”

He laughed. It’s the kind of laughter that’s from deep in his belly, the kind that fades out a bit with every syllable. He fell back into his bed, sinking into his gray pillow case as he held his phone over his head. He watched you pack the rest of your bag before slipping into bed yourself. It was the first time since meeting him that you were in the same time zone. He was back in Monaco, and you in London where you had always been. There were only two races left in the season. Two weekends left of Daniel in the car.

He was calling more often than not. And maybe you could blame the short break before Brazil and Abu Dhabi, but you knew Daniel a little more than that. You didn’t make a comment about it though, just accepted the opportunity to talk to him more.

You turn in your bed, setting Daniel up against the pillow by you. It was a good kind of quiet, a comfortable silence. The kind that brings about a certain… domesticity to the feel of your home, even if he was just on your phone. You liked having him there, even if really wasn’t there.

“How ya feeling?” You asked softly, pulling the covers under your chin.

He huffed a breath, “It just doesn’t feel quite real, if I’m being honest. My brain knows it’s happening but my heart… I don’t know. It’s cheesy. It’s weird.” You hummed in acknowledgement, shifting a bit in your place. “But it’ll be good. It’ll be fine.”

“It will. It will. You will.”

He smiled, nodded. “But you know what’ll make it better?” You raised your brow, a soft hm buzzing from behind your lips. He grinned cheekily, “If you came and watched me in Abu Dhabi, toots.”

Your heart swelled even if you scowled. Daniel hadn’t bothered to invite you to a race since Monza, which is fine. You were busy with work, and there really wasn’t a break long enough for Daniel to get an invite together for you. And plus, you had already declined him once.

“My family is coming out, close friends too. But the entourage wouldn't be complete if I didn’t have you in the garage.”

You pulled the blanket over your face to hide the way it turned red. And much to your surprise, he didn’t tease. No playful comments or layers of compliments to make your cheeks tinge red. No knowing laughter, or gentle chuckle. Just soft, patient breathing, waiting quietly for your answer. Your heart, however, was beating out of your chest. It was so loud you could hear it in your head. It echoed, bounced off the curve of your skull. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to ease the uneasiness that resides in your chest. It was the nerves, the threat– a mere opportunity to make all this real.

Three months and some days had passed since you met Daniel. Three months and some days had passed since you said goodbye. Three months and some days spent dreaming of the smell of fresh rain, warm hugs, and honey brown eyes. Three months and some days.

“Absolutely no pressure. But it would mean the world to me if you did.”

Seeing Daniel in person would mean that you are more to him than some girl on the phone. It would mean that all this was more than the twenty or thirty something hours together in Mykonos three months ago. Flying out to Abu Dhabi would mean the world to him, and a galaxy to you.

You pulled the covers off your face just in time to see Daniel run his fingers through his frizzy curls. He works his fingers over his head, stuffing it between him and the pillow behind him. The muscles in his arms bulge, stretch the sleeve of his athletic t shirt. You wondered if your cheeks got redder. His eyes move off screen, humming a soft tune that barely makes the airwaves to you, but you can hear it just under his shuffling about. He pulls up the covers, you see the edge of his gray sheet come into view. You watched for a few seconds more, watched him settle into his space, snuggled under the covers, before his eyes come back up to meet your gaze.

He smiled. You smiled. It was nice. It was good.

“So… when do I fly out?”

Abu Dhabi was a spectacle, buzzing with energy for the final race of the season. It was impossible to escape that kind of excitement, even outside of the paddock. You heard the buzz, the excitement of who was going to win the race, even if the winner was already spoken for. You enjoyed the optimism, the smiling faces, the feeling of being there in that moment. It was a last for Daniel for the foreseeable future. You were privy to the toll the last couple of years have been on him, the stress, the sadness, the disappointment at the results he continued to produce. But the end was finally here, his final race in orange before a much needed break. It was sad, but it was good.

The hotel was swarmed with fans, waiting for the opportunity to meet their favorite driver. There were heads of bright orange and red, contrasting against the black and navy. The entrance was crowded with people, it was damn near impossible to get through and check in. But you managed with the help of a young busboy, who complained and pushed through a group of crazed fans. It wasn’t long from there, and soon you were flopping onto the queen bed of your hotel room with a loud sigh. Nearly seven hours on the plane had wiped you out, and if it weren’t for the fact you promised to meet Daniel, you would’ve fallen asleep right there.

But alas, you forced yourself out of bed, stood in the hot shower to wash away the dirty air. You were cleaner, and in turn much more nervous. Have you scrubbed enough? Did the scent of your shampoo stick? Oh god how did you have enough time to do your hair? Will it dry in time?

You couldn’t stomach finding out the answer.

You pocketed air in your cheeks as you paced to and from the mirror to your unzipped luggage. You had overpacked– of course you did– and had about half the items strewn across the floor as you tried and failed to find an outfit worth meeting Daniel in again. A dress seemed a bit much and somehow every single pair of jeans you packed squeezed on your stomach a little more than you’d like. You huffed after the fourth outfit, soured mood as you stepped into sweat shorts and an old sweatshirt from college. You were meant to meet Daniel in less than an hour and you were stuck at square one: your hair a ratty mess, make-up strewn across the bathroom sink (untouched), and your luggage exploding with clothes you suddenly hated.

You stood, stared at yourself in the mirror as you gripped on your hairbrush, running it through tangles and an otherwise unruly mess. You dragged and pulled until your hair was smooth. But even then it wasn’t smooth enough, you just didn’t have it in you to care. Your makeup was dragged across your face. You went through the motions, all muscle memory and not a thought about the colors and products. And even at the end of all that, after getting yourself to look less haggard and have your hair somewhat presentable, you still couldn’t stand to look at the mess you’ve made in your room.

You went back over your options, moving through the motions of retrying combinations, mixing and matching, and then putting them away when you concluded you didn’t like the choice. By the end of the hour, you had gotten your room semi-presentable but were still stuck in your loungewear.

And then there’s a knock.

You scratched the back of your head, a little more nervous and a little more irritated. A soft whine escapes you as you stomped your way to the front door. You yanked it open without even bothering to look through the peephole, mind far from any clue as to who it might even be.

But who else could it be?

Daniel smiled with his hands stuffed into his pockets, Enchante hoodie hanging loosely on his shoulders. His curls sit atop his head, messy, flopped over his forehead. His stubble has grown, or maybe it just appears thicker in person. But he stood there, smiling in the hallway, lips parted and ready to greet you if you had given him a chance.

You jumped into his arms like you belonged there, like a magnet pulled to metal. You held on for dear life, arms wrapped tightly as you stuffed your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled just as you remembered– smelled just like home. Slowly, one arm finds its rightful place around your torso while the other comes up so that his free hand could hold your head securely against him. His hold is firm as he lifts you off your feet, squeezes you so nicely you never wanted him to stop. You could’ve stood in that hallway like that forever, if it was ever an option.

Daniel inhaled deeply. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you more.” Your voice seeped into his skin– hot, meaningful, and everything else left in you to give.

He put you down, but you didn’t want him to. His hands come up to hold your face in his hands while his eyes scanned every bit of you. No words, just a gentle hold. You stood there, head heavy in his hands as you stared right back up at him. His tan had faded a bit, his hair much more kempt than you remember. And his hands, oh his hands are rough, loved so well by the life he’s led and yet they move with so much care, so much tenderness. The dim hallway light reflected off his wrist, off blue beads tied together by a black straps. Your heart jumped, warmed at the bracelet you bought him all those months ago around his wrist.

“Looking good toots.”

He laughed loudly as your face contorted into a grimace. Your hands come up to his chest to shove him off, a blow he takes with a grin as he takes a step back. And in succession, his slender fingers wrap around your wrist to pull you back into him.

“I don’t like that nickname.” You swatted his chest, palm and the back of your hand colliding with the soft material of his hoodie, over and over until he’s holding your wrist still while muttering I’m kidding over and over.

You rolled your eyes as you removed yourself from his hold. You invited him into your room, taking quick steps to shut your open luggage before he had a chance to see the carnage of it all. Daniel closed the door behind him for you before he followed your lead into the small hotel room. He plopped himself onto your bed, kicking off his shoes before pushing himself further up. He watched as you folded up the bit of clothes that you had left out sitting on top of your closed luggage before sitting across from him. You smiled, he smiled. Just how it’s always been.

Things sort of unraveled from there. Plans were canceled, phones tossed aside– nothing really mattered anymore. He asked about your flight, you asked about his. He asked about your work, you asked about his. It was back and forth, back and forth, jumping from one bit to the next until three hours had rolled by and Daniel had taken notice. By then you rolled onto your back, hair handing off the bed and legs lounging on top of Danny’s. He’s leant up against the headboard, arms crossed across his middle as he hum contentedly. You looked over at him, reaching over to squeeze his arm.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

His hand removed itself from underneath his arm, placing it over yours. “Thank you for coming.”

November in Abu Dhabi was not as hot as you expected it to be. For once you were grateful for over packing because otherwise you would’ve been miserable and slightly embarrassed by the initial four outfits you deemed as enough for the trip.

You met Daniel’s family on Friday. They were just finishing breakfast when you walked up to the McLaren building. Daniel was quick to stand on his feet, hand resting on the small of your back as he gestured to each family member with his free hand. You were introduced as a friend, shook the hands of his relatives with a tight smile as you went down the line. They were sweet, offered to sit with you while you ate breakfast. But you were quick to decline, having already eaten before getting to the paddock.

There were a few familiar faces amongst Daniel’s friends, if your drunken memory serves you correctly. You were greeted with enthusiastic hellos and semi-awkward side hugs. You stood with them in the garage, arms crossed tightly around yourself as you stood around waiting for the man himself. The garage was chaotic, multiple bodies moving too and from and all at once, trying to ready for the two practice sessions of the day. Your headphones were tuned to the live broadcast, so you spent the next fifteen or so minutes of commentary about Red Bull this and Ferrari that, Max this, Charles that. But then you hear it. Here comes the Honey Badger, about to hop into the car for the first Practice session of his last weekend with McLaren– his last weekend in Formula 1.

Your head turned to look up at the screen just in time to see Daniel smiling at the camera, tuning out the conversation about Daniel between commentators. He waved into the lens before turning to Michael. They exchange a few words, the camera just zooming in before switching back to the Ferrari garage. You avert your gaze back to the present, the bodies clearing to make way for Daniel to climb into his car. The loved driver walks down the line of his friends, exchanging fistbumps and a bit of laughter before finally standing up before you.

You could feel the stares, the careful watching to see what you two were about to exchange? A couple of light hearted jokes? A fistbump? Maybe even a hug?

You tried to ignore it, looking up at him with a smile you hoped resembles the bit of faith you had in him. “Have fun out there.” Your hands fiddled with each other, nervous nails picked at the skin of your cuticles.

“Thanks. I’ll see you for the debrief?”

You blew out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you.”

You didn’t see him until after the round of press after both practice sessions, but of course it was only for a fleeting moment. He had his arm wrapped around your shoulders to give you a gentle squeeze as he asked about you– always you. And then, with much reluctance, he allowed you to return to the hotel while he stayed back for another briefing.

Quali day proved to be even more energetic than the last. People moved faster, time ticked louder, and the cars pushed and pushed. You enjoyed the smell of burnt rubber, of the adrenaline that ran through the track. You held your breath for most of the day, eyes trained on the times put up, jaw clenched as Daniel clawed his way to Q3. The air in the McLaren garage is light, happy, hopeful, as the boys stroll back into the garage. Rough pats to the back and loud words of encouragement roll through. Daniel was followed by a crowd of people. They all spoke atop each other, trying to get the last word in and trying to get a response from the driver before he disappeared. But he was already gone the moment he laid eyes on you. He waved the people away. Later, later he mumbled, offering them a smile before speeding up the pace and leaving the people to wait on later. You stood when Daniel approached, allowing him to wrap one arm around you in a quick squeeze.

“Congratulations Danny,” You looked up at him, smiling widely as you leaned into his hold.

“Thanks sugar.” There was a pause, allowing the nickname to sink in before he scrunched up his nose and shook his head. You burst out in soft giggles and he grinned widely. “Somehow that’s worse than toots.”

“Definitely worse.”

Race day was exhilarating. It was a rush, even if you were only sitting in the garage. You had your legs crossed over each other, muscles tense the entire time. You couldn’t relax, not while you held out for a bit of hope in Daniel’s race. Maybe no one expected much from him these days, but you expected nothing short of greatness. You sat in your chair, silently praying that Daniel would find that sweet release, the sweetest satisfaction in that car. You gripped the lanyard of your pass tightly, leant forward towards the screens as if it would make him move faster. You spoke to him, even if he couldn’t hear you through the turns of the circuit.

And then it happened. The checkered flag was waved, the race had been won, the champion continued his reign. The night saw multiple ends, the night closed on the last of the honey badger in McLaren. While everyone jeered for Max, applauded for Sebastian, bid adieu to Nicky and Mick, you held your heart for Daniel. Your eyes watered as he spun the MCL36 in circles, sending smoke and his love to the crowd as they said their goodbyes. Quietly, you slipped back into the McLaren Hospitality, sat around by the door of his driver room as he got done with the last of press. You watched on the screens, like you always do, watched the laughter, the happiness, the adoration exchanged between Daniel and his comrades. All the hugs and see you soons, all the hope every single person held for him and his return.

Daniel was a friend to everyone, beloved by everyone, and that included you. You felt a bit of pride at the thought, but maybe a bit of emptiness at the potential. Daniel was your friend, albeit your best friend. He had become your person, even if you had spent most of your time getting to know him through the screen. But that didn’t negate the fact. It didn’t change the affection you had for him, the adoration and respect you kept for Daniel in your heart. It didn’t change the fact that maybe, just maybe, you felt more for him than you’d ever admit. But that was a little secret between you and your bedroom ceiling.

Daniel returned to you by himself. No crowds of people begging for a second of his attention, no staff reading off his agenda, not even Michael trying (and failing) to make Daniel laugh. He was all by himself, tired, disheveled, shoulders slumped and his face expressionless. You stood at one end of the room of the McLaren Hospitality and Daniel at the other. You stared at each other, unsure what was left to say after everything that happened in the hours behind him.

And then you see it– the water brimming in his eyes, the quiver of his bottom lip. You saw the frown that curved into his lips, the way his chest puffed shakily as he drew a breath. He was stuck in his place, stuck in the sadness that had finally settled in his spirit. So you met him where he stood, arms wrapping around his frame so that he could finally, finally, let go. His hands held you close to his chest, the pads of his fingers pressing into your shoulder blades. He buried his face in your shoulder, squeezing you so tightly that you found it hard to breathe.

“It’s really over.”

You pulled his face from your skin to hold in your hands, pouting as your thumbs collected the sadness that spilled onto his cheeks. Left to right, up and down, you scanned his face– every freckle and wrinkle, the way his bottom lip protrudes in a pout. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay. It’ll be good. Okay?”

He nodded, head shaking quickly in your grasp as his hands scramble to pull you back into him. He held you like you were going to slip away just as every single good thing in his life had this last year. His hand comes up to the back of your neck, holding firm and warm, as he inhales deeply. “ It’ll be okay. It’ll be good.”

It’ll be good.

Daniel sent you flowers in December.

An arrangement of yellow and orange poppies arrived at your door two days before Christmas. They were waiting for you when you arrived from last minute shopping. You picked up the vase, cradled it in your arms as your keys jingled into the keyhole. The windmill keychain from August twinkled in the dim hallway lighting, reminded you of the day spent with your favorite person.

You set the flowers down on the counter, all other belongings forgotten at your feet. You picked at the small envelope that sat in the middle of the vibrant flowers. Inside, a note– typed, but the sign off was enough to tell you who had sent them.

𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚢.

-𝟹

Your heart swelled. Swelled so big you were sure it was going to burst underneath you. You bite down on your bottom lip, hard, trying to fight the awe-struck– no, lovestruck, smile that creeped onto your face. You tried to swallow those feelings down, just as you had for months now. Forget the butterflies and what they symbolize, or the way you jumped at the sound of your phone pinging or ringing. Forget, forget, forget.

Except that you can’t forget. You can’t forget or ignore or pretend like you haven’t fallen for this… this… for him. It’s not doable, and you had been fooling yourself thinking that if you pretended for long enough, that those feelings would cease to exist. Instead they festered, grew into a monster that held you tightly. In between blue and gray text bubbles, after hour long facetime calls, you found yourself falling for him. It was hard to admit to yourself because you felt silly at the notion that you could feel that way for someone you talked to on the phone. But it wasn’t silly, it was so fucking real. You were consumed by the smell of fresh fallen rain and curly hair, consumed by chasing the feeling of him gnawing at your heart. You were all consumed by Daniel. Him, him, him.

You took a photo of the flowers, sending it as a text.

You 5:24 PM Poppy, huh?

His response was almost immediate.

Daniel 5:24 PM You like it?

You smiled. Smiled so wide your face ached. Daniel was halfway around the world. Fourteen something thousand kilometers away from you. He spent Christmas in the warmth, surrounded by his family while you were bearing it in bitter cold London. Thousands and thousands in distance, and still he makes you smile like he was sitting in the room with you.

You 5:25 PM Love it. Thank you Danny

Christmas came and went as it always does. And in the week between then and the end of the year, Daniel called you. His face occupied your phone screen, that stunning smile plastered on his face. It was ten in the morning on the 27th of December, you were in the middle of a book– one you had been putting off because of work and traveling and enjoying the reality with Daniel in it. So you were reading, but then he called and the passage was forgotten.

He claimed he had no reason to call you, that it was just because. It made your heart do flips, stupidly and erratically beating at the notion just because. You smiled, hummed as a response as you set the book aside. You asked about his holiday, he asked about yours. And just as easily as it has been before, the conversation sprouted into hours on the phone. You had slowly retreated into your bedroom, under the covers, had Daniel propped on the pillow just like he belonged. It was space reserved for him, even if he’s never laid in your bed before. God you left so much room for him in your life, he didn’t even know the half of it. He had become part of your equation, part of every what if that came across your mind– it was truly terrifying.

Daniel quieted around twelve for you. He was sitting back on his couch, phone resting in his palm as he held it up high enough you had a view of his face. His gaze was soft as he stared at you, smiling sweet.

“What?” You asked softly.

“Nothing.”

Another pause in the conversation. A brief moment of silence with an unasked question hanging in the space between you. You almost wanted to pry, but he beat you to the punch– answered the impending what you were about to whine.

“I’m flying back to Monaco for New Years… and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

You raised a brow. “You miss me?”

“I always do.”

Your heart screeched, cheeks ached with another smile. God you couldn’t stop fucking smiling.

You shook your head, “Silly.”

“Not silly. Just true. Come to Monaco. Please?”

How could you ever say no to him? How could you ever allow yourself to miss an opportunity to see Daniel again?

So on the 29th of December you flew the two something hours to Nice, took the train to Monaco and jumped straight into Daniel’s arms. He held you like it's all he ever knew, arms wrapped so tightly you’re sure you’d be stuck to him even if he let go. Your face is pressed into his sternum, his scent consuming you with a sharp inhale. Fuck, you would never get tired of this.

December 30 was quiet– the calm before the storm. You were glued to the couch, Daniel’s hip attached to yours, while you watched movie after movie. In the first hour your legs were on top of his, then you switched the next hour. After the second movie, you were tucked into his side while his fingers twirled a lock of your hair. Round and round, a semblance to the way your mind circled him. Your thoughts ran in circles around Daniel, about what it would be like to be able to live that reality for longer than the week you were spending with him. You allowed yourself to imagine more Friday’s spent lazily with him.

Daniel looked down at you as the credits rolled. “Thanks for coming out. I haven’t said it, and I should’ve the moment you landed.”

You hummed, leaning into him further. He tightened his hold on you, it made you feel safe. “Anything for you.”

Truly, anything for him. You would do it all, all Daniel had to do was ask.

You woke up later than normal on the last day of the year. You laid in the guest bedroom of Daniel’s Monaco apartment, alone, tangled in sheets that regrettably smell just like him. The sound of glass clinking and heavy footsteps moving about the space travels into your room, muffled by the shut door. And as easily as you fall into a state of bliss at the sound, your mind rolls in daydreams about what it would be like to wake up to it over and over and over again. You were losing yourself, you knew that, but there was nothing stopping you from doing so. You free fall into the imagination of domesticity with Daniel and how easy and good it would all be.

Three soft taps. Are you up?

“Yeah, come in.” You sit up in bed, doing your best to comb down your bed head with the palm of your hands. Daniel poked his head through first before his body followed. You watched quietly as he made his way around the room, rolling into bed right next to you. He laid his head down against the pillow and you fought the urge to lay with him. Instead, you lean against the plush headboard and stare down at him.

“Happy New Year's Eve,” His voice is hoarse, thick with sleep. Surely he’d just woken up.

You rubbed your eyes, smiled all the while. “Happy New Year's Eve.”

He turned over, smiling into the fabric of his pillow case as he threw his arm over your thighs. Like it’s normal, like he’d done it before. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to get breakfast, but I think I could use another hour of sleep.”

Your fingers twirled his curls, round and round, as you nodded. “Sleep then.”

“Wake me in an hour? Then I promise we can go get breakfast.”

“One hour. Gotcha.”

Your fingers grazed his scalp, massaged his head of curls as he quickly fell back asleep. His body was limp next to yours, hot breath beating down on your skin.

True to your words, you shook him awake an hour after he fell asleep. It’s been an hour. He groaned softly, arm tightening around your legs and pulling himself against the soft skin of your flesh. Five more minutes. You didn’t have it in you to pry, so you let him fall back asleep. Soft snores fill the space of the guest bedroom, and you sit there for another five minutes. You shook him once more, but he was a goner, lost in a deep sleep and dreams you could only wish to know.

Slowly, gently, reluctantly, you pulled yourself from Daniel’s hold. You padded your way through his apartment, getting yourself acquainted with where things belong, in search of breakfast because while Daniel was too tired to care, you were hungry and needed food sooner rather than later.

You cooked an omelet, made use of the last of his eggs and the veggies that were in his fridge. You could do without bacon for now– well you had to because he didn’t have it. You allowed the soft sizzle in the pan to lull your nerves to a sort of calmness you haven’t had since being here with Daniel. You tried to find a bit of clarity for yourself as you made breakfast. And right when you think you’re okay, that the daydreams and the yearning mean nothing, he’s in the room with you.

He hadn’t said a word yet, but you knew the sound of his feet shuffling. He leaned up against the counter, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand before watching you expertly flip the cooked egg over. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I promised you breakfast.”

You shook your head, taking a quick glance up at him with a smile. “That’s okay, Danny. Want one?”

He nodded, moving around you as he reached for the cupboard above your head. The kitchen was large, spacious, so clearly put together for a bachelor who didn’t spend too much time there. But despite the space, you found yourself bumping into Daniel, feeling the way his fingers trailed along your back as he moved behind you. You moved in sync, bumping into each other was just part of the dance. That’s what it felt like with him, a dance to music only the two of you seem to hear. It was always a dance, of pushing and pulling, going round and round until your head spun. It was beautiful. It was good.

You didn’t get ready until much later. The sun had just begun to touch the ocean, painting the sky shades of orange. You watched from the guest room, legs crossed while your make-up laid sprawled out on the bed. And while you swiped brush after brush, a pat of a sponge here and there, you grew to envy the ocean. How lucky it is to be kissed, to be loved so badly that the sun returns to it every day. You yearned for the same, to have such warmth sink beneath you and make you feel whole. But most of all, you yearned for Daniel.

You felt a little ridiculous. You felt stupid, insecure, so goddamn undeserving of the way your heart ached for him. You felt crazed, your head was a mess of thoughts of curly hair and the comforting smell of rain after a drought. You felt ridiculous because Daniel seemed to consume you, and you aren’t even sure if you consumed him in the same way. That’s when the fear settled, the need to run in the opposite direction because my god, what were you doing here?

You had to stand from your spot on the bed, make up half done and not set, to pace the room. You tried to shake off the way every nerve ending fizzled with this… you couldn’t say it. You couldn’t admit it. Because how could you? Why should you?

Maybe you hadn’t fallen, maybe this was a misplaced infatuation. Give it a couple more days, maybe even a couple more weeks and he would be nothing more than your friend, nothing more than a person who made life a little easier. Nothing less, nothing more.

But the tears cloud your vision, your hands shook, bile was climbing up the length of your throat. You felt so fucking sick.

You sit back down in the bad, blowing out a breath through pursed lips. Inhale, exhale. Breathe in, breathe out. You flopped onto your back, tubes and compacts of make-up clattering against each other as the bed rippled your movement. Inhale, exhale. Breathe in, breathe out. It was fine, you were fine, everything was okay.

Right?

You aren’t sure how managed to finish getting ready, truth be told the last hour or so were a blur. But you were ready, buckled into the front seat of his McLaren 720s, trying to pace your heart with the heavy bass song playing through the speaker. Daniel was oblivious to your sudden mental turmoil, more than excited to see his friends and celebrate the end of one of the worst years of his life. He had expressed multiple times just how excited he was to let loose, to pretend like his reality isn't real, even if it was just for a couple of hours.

The club was bass heavy, so loud that you could hear it as Daniel’s car slowed to a stop. Valet opened the door for you, stuck his hand out to help you exit the rather low sports car. Daniel grabbed the ticket before resting his hand on the small of your back and led you into the club.

It was packed, filled to the brim with people who were probably so drunk they wouldn’t make it to midnight. You followed the bouncer’s lead, along the perimeter of the club and into the section behind the DJ booth. You recognized a few faces, some who were in the garage with you, others who drove the car. You were introduced, reintroduced, Daniel shouted your name over the blaring music. This is my best friend!

Best friend. Best friend. Best friend.

You smiled, tight lipped and polite, even though the panic had begun to return. You shouldn’t be there, you shouldn’t have come. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You needed a drink.

You needed several drinks– and several were served to you. Vodka this, vodka that. Oh a round of shots, why not? You had begun to lose yourself to the booze and the music, the nerves and the panic long forgotten. All that mattered was that you were moving along to the bass and that you felt good. You couldn’t feel the way your toes screamed in pain, begging you to sit down, even for a second.

You only stopped because you had taken another shot and the world suddenly tilted to the left. Daniel met you on the sofa, arm resting on the back of it as he leant down to talk into your ear. “Slow down Poppy, we still got an hour til midnight!”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, leaning into him because god you just needed to feel him. His hand fell onto your shoulder, holding you firmly. His lips mouthed something. Water? It must’ve been. You nodded, throat suddenly dry. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth in a feeble attempt to get rid of the cottonmouth. Daniel handed you a glass, and you sipped. You sipped until the ground leveled and your mind didn’t spin in circles. Sipped on the glass until Lando pushed it out of your hands and replaced it with a flute of champagne. Ten minutes! Fuck had that much time pass you by already?

Slender fingers slipped onto your waist as you stood from the couch, the pads of his digits pressing firmly into your flesh. You felt secure, safe. Your mind still teetered between sobriety and inebriety, but you knew you’d remember the following moments for the rest of your life.

Ten minutes turned into five, turned into one. And then you were counting down the seconds. The club was loud, the excitement building as you ticked closer to one. Daniel’s arm moved from your torso to hang over your shoulder. He pulled you into his side, squeezing tighter and tighter as he counted down. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Happy New Year! The crowd erupted into a mess of cheers, of heavy bass and the pop of streamers. Lights flickered, and you caught brief glances of hugs and kisses, of happy welcomes and excitement of what 2023 was meant to bring. And oh how you wished that it was you. That you were a person in the crowd being kissed, even if it was some cheesy cliche. You just wished it were you.

You made the mistake of looking up at Daniel, of letting curiosity get the best of you to see if he was seeing what you were. You wanted to know if he had the same desire written on his face as it was on yours. But instead, his gaze was already on you. Your cheeks burned, and you thanked the heavens that the lights distracted from the fact that you were blushed. Daniel smiled widely, removing his hand from your shoulder to rest on the side of your head. He pulled you into him, lips pressing into the soft skin of your temple. Once, twice. Then he craned his neck, pressed a kiss to your cheek before letting his lips hover over your ear.

“Happy New Year, Poppy.”

You smiled, turned your head again so you could selfishly look into his honey eyes again. And maybe you knew that in doing this, your face would only be mere centimeters apart. All it would take is a simple lunge, an accidental shove. So close, so fucking close. You silently wished that he would, that he’d give into the cliche and kiss you. Your brain was screaming, begging. Kiss me! Just fucking kiss me! But all he did was smile. Dimples imprint themselves into the soft skin of his cheeks, his gaze so soft you wanted to vomit. He looked at you in a way that made you dizzier than all the liquor you consumed that night. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, touch just ghosting your skin before planting firmly on the junction of your neck and jaw. Kiss me! Please kiss me! Won’t he do it?

You felt his fingers leave your cheek, creep to the back of your head and once again he’s pulling you in to kiss your forehead.

You sighed, spirit deflated, even as you shut your eyes and leaned into the kiss once more.

He cupped your cheeks again, both hands this time, squishing the soft flesh as he forced your gaze up at him. He couldn’t see the disappointment in your features, too distracted by the lights, the music, by everything else. He smiled. He always smiled. “I love you Poppy, I love you, I do!”

Your heart flipped, rattled your ribs, beat loudly in your fucking head. You bit back a smile even though all you wanted to do was grin. You scrunch your nose, feigned disgust even if you were elated. He loved you, he loved you he did.

You fell in love with Daniel in January.

Though, you’re sure that you had loved him for much longer. January was when you fully admitted it to yourself. No more denying, no more panic. Pure acceptance for the fact that you were in love with Daniel Ricciardo.

You left Monaco on the second, much to your dismay. If you had it your way, you would’ve stayed forever. But work had resumed and your boss only let you take off an extra day and nothing more. So Daniel drove you to the train station, dragged your luggage out of his car and walked you all the way to the gate. Your ticket was clenched tightly in your first as you looked up at him, a bit of wind blowing at the stray hairs that couldn’t be held back by the elastic. He reached out, tucked a hair behind your ear before resting his hand against your cheek. It was warm, reeked of generic hand sanitizer. You leaned into him, smiling even if your chest ached.

“Wish you could stay longer.” He muttered.

“Wish you would just come with,” You countered. With me, you wanted to emphasize but… the statement seemed too intimate. With me. Come with me, please.

He hummed, fingers hooking around the back of your neck to pull you into him. Your face collided with his chest in a soft thump, nose dug deep in the plush material of his t-shirt, just above his sternum. His hands readjust themselves around you, conforming to your frame against his body. Like a puzzle tab finding its perfect nook. He hugged you tightly, planted a kiss to the top of your head before flattening the hair in the same spot. You’d miss this, you thought to yourself, the few kisses given, the plethora of hugs exchanged, you were going to miss this. You were going to miss him.

You’re the first to step out of the embrace, blinking away tears that had just begun to blur your vision. You coughed an awkward laugh, smiled, tried about anything to hide how sad you really were in the moment. But Daniel saw right through you, clicked his tongue as he nudged your chin playfully.

“Don’t do that. Don’t cry.”

His words had the opposite effect, pushed the tears over the brim of your waterline. You tried to laugh it off, mock yourself and the ridiculous splay of emotions. You shook your head and swatted his hands away as he reached out to you again. “I’m fine, I'm fine. If you hug me again, I’m afraid I may just end up staying.”

Daniel’s reflexes were quick, right hand jolting forward to latch onto yours. He easily pulled you into him, quick enough so that you could catch the way his body rumbled with a chuckle beneath your touch. “I don’t see why that’s such a bad thing.” You indulged, melted right back into him, inhaled the sweet sweet smell of his cologne, committed every node to memory.

You wondered what the travelers walking to and fro, squeezing past you without an ounce of politeness, were thinking of the two of you. Could they see it? Could they feel it? Or were you just two losers standing in a train station delaying a needed goodbye?

Daniel pressed a gentle kiss against your cheek, soft lips catching you by surprise. His head dipped into your neck, arms squeezing you tightly. “I’ll miss you my little wildflower.”

You grinned, stifled a little laughter at the cheesy nickname as you inhaled deeply, “You’re getting really good at this nickname thing,” You teased, fingers coming up to play with the short hairs on the nape of his neck. “I like Poppy more.”

His body vibrated in a quiet chuckled, nodding against your shoulder. Noted.

You pulled away again, eyes flickering to the clock for a brief moment before your fingers latched onto the handle of your luggage. Daniel sighed, tilted his head in a sad smile. You caught the way he flexed his fingers at the release of your own, rings glinting in the light.

“So… goodbye?” You shrugged and he grinned, “See you soon?” You bit back a smile, “Arrivederci?”

You giggled, nodding your head, “See you in London.”

His lips part, a playful and breathy ah falling from his mouth as he nodded. London, London, London he says softly. “I’ll see you there Poppy.”

You had a multitude of responsibilities waiting for you in London, your boss made that perfectly clear with the two lengthy emails sent to your inbox as you sat on the train. There were unfulfilled plans with friends, a declutter day penciled in for the following Friday, and dinner with your parents. You had a million and one things that needed your attention, and for whatever reason, the five or so hours of travels back home, you spent in thought of Daniel.

His kiss, his touch, his everything was stamped onto you, it was as if it were all happening in that moment. It made you miss him even more, made your heart ache as you continued to move further and further from him. In the bits of sleep you found in your travels, your mind was consumed by him. Always him. You imagined that this was love, it was the only logical explanation. And so on the plane, while watching your flight path on the screen ahead of you, quietly and honestly, you admitted to yourself that this was love. You were in love.

And you were terrified.

London greeted you coldly, the wind biting at your cheeks as you lugged your luggage from the Uber to the warm lobby of your complex. The doorman greeted you with a smile, wished you a happy new year as you passed him by. Exhaustion had you by the talons, gripped at your body and spirit and forced you into bed. You crawled underneath your covers, pulled a pillow to your chest as you let sleep take over you. And in your slumber, as you drowned in the fantasy of Daniel and all the what ifs, you miss his call. You missed the first, the second, the third, and then finally the soft ping of his text tone.

Daniel 8:53 PM Are you awake? Please say you’re awake.

And another.

Daniel 8:55 PM You should’ve stayed. I wish you stayed.

Daniel flew into London from New York in February. After he had fulfilled every press, interview, tiktok, whatever kind of obligation being a third driver entailed– he hopped on a plane and flew straight to you.

What was meant to be a surprise turned out to be spoiled by his slight recklessness. He accidentally sent his pinned location to you instead of his friend, and in turn showed you that he was standing in the middle of Heathrow Airport. Then half an hour later, with excited text after text sent and a frenzied cleaning of your apartment, he was at your door and you were jumping into his arms. He laughed, walked you back into your home with one hand wrapped around your torso to keep your feet off the ground, and the other dragging his suitcase.

You’re here you mumbled into his hoodie, arms squeezing tight.

I’m here.

Being with Daniel at home felt good. It felt normal. It felt right. And the longer he stayed, the longer you watched him fit himself in your life, the harder you fell. There was a small part of you that wished he didn’t mold into your routines so well, that a bit of awkwardness had struck and maybe even cured you of this hopeless feeling that clenched your heart so tightly. You wished that his place in your life didn’t make sense but it did. Daniel sitting across from you for breakfast, nursing a second bowl of cereal made sense. His fingers looping your hair messily through a scrunchie while you cooked dinner made sense. The smell of fresh rain imprinted in every corner of your home just made sense.

Daniel, walking into your room and sliding into bed next to you while you read a book, made the most sense. You didn’t flinch at the dip in the bed, or the way his shoulder leaned onto you, or the smell of his shampoo in his damp hair. Ignoring your sporadic heartbeat was a challenge, but being here with him was easy. You hummed in acknowledgement, resting your head on his shoulder as you finished out the chapter. You see the glow of his phone screen, the flicker in color as he taps through stories and posts, leaving them all on mute as a courtesy to you. You flipped through a couple more pages before tucking your bookmark in and shutting it. The book falls on your night stand with a soft thud, discarded and forgotten as you turn your attention to Daniel.

“So I was thinking,” He mused, tapping something on his phone before setting it on his lap, “I leave in three days, so I think it’s only right we have a real sleepover.”

Your heart did flips. Back flips, cartwheels, a double back handspring with spin and perfect landing. Danced its way all the way to the top of your throat, supported by the nerves and the intent of his proposal. “You tired of the couch?” You teased, stabbing your index finger into his bicep playfully. He chuckled.

“Only a little. But I’ll gladly sleep on the floor if you’re too chicken to share a bed.”

You swung your pillow over at him, smacking him in the chest. Shut up, you stuttered, sinking deeper into your bed. You try not to let his loud laughter tinge your cheeks red, to make the tips of your ears heat up as you silently wish the world swallowed you whole. You were being dramatic, maybe. He was teasing, of course you knew he was. But fuck the accusation could not be any truer. You were fucking terrified of sharing a bed with Daniel, how it would blur another line of your friendship, confuse you further, and in turn making saying goodbye in three days time infinitely harder. But you were a little dumbstruck when it came to your affections for Daniel, a little self-indulgent and allowed your little heart to take the reins of all your decision making.

So that's how you end up lying dangerously close to the edge of your bed, watching as Daniel moved your pillows around to make a little more room for himself. Daniel. Making room for himself. In your bed.

You were gonna be sick.

He didn’t take too long to settle into his side, pulling on the duvet over his abdomen. Pillows had been thrown to the floor, stuffed animals perched nicely on your desk after you so kindly asked him to. The mattress was bare between the two of you– no pillow wall or some imaginary line established. No claims to a side, or a little jab to remind the other to stay on their side of the bed. Just the plain sheet and a bit of space rests between you.

Daniel clicked the lamp on his side of the bed off, darkness engulfing the space immediately. It took a minute or two for your eyes to adjust to the dark, to finally be able to trace the silhouette of Daniel’s features against the streetlight bleeding through your curtains. You trace the curls resting on his forehead, the bump on the bridge of his nose, down to the curve or each lip, and the point of his chin.

“You’re staring,” He muttered.

“No I’m not.” Yes, you were.

He didn’t comment, just turned onto his side so that he could look at you. Daniel tucked his hand underneath his pillow, pulling it flush against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. The space between you was gaping, large and awkward, begging to be occupied by the warmth of a body– maybe yours. He noticed, pulled the covers down before patting the cream sheet softly.

“I’m not gonna bite Poppy.”

You scrunch your nose, reaching out to poke him with your index finger. “How can I be sure?”

A single poke, pushing the tip of his nose inward before he juts his chin upward, catching your index finger between his teeth.

“You can’t.”

You turned your face into the pillow as you flexed your hand open, using the force of your other four fingers to push against his face. His laughter rumbled against your palm, lips wet and leaving a stamp of him in the middle of your hand. You feel his slender fingers come up around your wrist to pull your hand away and push it back into your chest. The warmth that emitted from his skin stayed with you, molded into your skin lest you forget how Daniel felt against you.

You didn’t budge from your position on the bed, and neither did he. Two people with an unreasonable amount of space between them– it was almost laughable. You wondered if he was as scared as you were to cross this line drawn in the sand. You wondered if he was afraid he’d get addicted to holding you, that he might never want to leave. Because you were afraid. You were afraid of losing yourself to a man you had no claim over, and falling so deep into him that you’d never find a way out. So you kept the bit of space, forced a bit of restraint on your heart that seemed to be reaching out to him.

Sometime between hushed whispers and the soft sounds of sheets rubbing together as you adjusted and readjusted yourself in your place, you fell asleep. You dreamt of the rain, the way it kissed your skin, kissed the Earth and all that is in it. You dreamt of a garden filled with poppies, of bright colored petals that poked out of the grass. You dreamt of familiar smiles, the sound of laughter. God, you dreamt of happiness.

The sun seeps through your curtains, golden light flooding the room. It shines the brightest between the curtains, peeking through to pull you from your slumber. You groan softly, burying your face deeper into warm skin, pulling the duvet over your shoulder. Toned arms shift around you, hold you tighter before mumbling incoherencies and drifting back to sleep.

Without the cologne, Daniel smells like citrus scented soap. Bright, sweet, stuck to his skin even after tossing and turning all night. You almost envy the way he never seems to smell bad, how beautiful smells like peeled oranges or rained-on flowers stick to him. You envy the way he snores softly, clutching on to sleep better than you ever could. Because now you’re awake, mind racing against your heart as you wrap your head around how you laid: tangled up with Daniel.

You lay stiff, terrified out of your fucking mind as Daniel holds on to you for dear life. He’s so warm. The kind of warmth that compared to the sun beating down on your skin on a cool spring day. The kind that relieves you of goosebumps, of chilly fingertips and the feeling that the tip of your nose might just fall off. Daniel was like the sun in a lot of ways, you conclude.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force yourself to return back to your dreams. But it burns where your skin meets Daniel’s– hot, sticky, melting together. You can feel the dips of his muscles against you, the firmness to them even if he held you so softly. His arm lays over your torso, curled in towards you to keep you close to him, while his chin rests on the top of your head. Your face is positioned between his collarbones, tip of your nose just ghosting the supple skin there. You try to turn your head, find a place in which you didn’t drown in him, but no matter where you turned, you were comfortably stuck to him.

Daniel groans above you as you try to turn your head again, squeezing you tighter. “You move too much in your sleep.” Sleep weighs down on his voice, makes it heavy and gravely, rough with exhaustion. You smile, humming as you stuff your face back into his chest.

“Sorry.”

He hums, “Morning.”

“Morning.”

You lay with Daniel quietly, stuck in the position you woke up in. No one moves, no one speaks, just enjoying the soft lull of steady breathing and the world starting its day without the two of you. Cars pass by your street and birds converse outside your window– you imagine they were talking about the sun. You lay wrapped in Daniel until he shifts, pulling his arm from your torso to rub his sleep-riddled face. You look up, chin resting in the middle of his chest. You watch his lips stretch into a yawn, the way his index finger and thumb come up to wipe the tears that brim at his eyes. And then he cranes his neck, points his chin downwards so that he can catch a glimpse of you.

And he smiles.

“Told you I don’t bite.”

Daniel leaves in three days. He reminds you over breakfast, biting into a piece of toast like it isn’t a big deal. Three days left of this, of breakfast in the mornings and his face before bed. You smile sadly into your oatmeal, mixing the fruit around the slurry before spooning it into your mouth. Silverware clatters against porcelain, it echoes against the walls of your home. It makes your heart miss him before he’s even gone.

The days blend into the other, no memory seemed to have a cut off. Daniel’s last three days with you were a lump sum of memories, colliding, meshing into each other, dependent on the hours before so that the now made sense. And in every moment, all the laughter and smiles, the almost-touches and almost-kisses, the larger the space in your heart grew for Daniel. Your mind let you wander treacherously through the what-ifs, the maybes, and the could bes. What if we. Maybe we. We could be. We, we, we.

The night before his flight, you took him to a work thing. That’s how you described it as you helped him pick between two polos. You point at the striped one before flopping onto bed. “It’s just this weird game night. It’s supposed to boost morale, help us bond. It’s been a rough couple months in the office so this is corporate’s way of building– well, rebuilding the peace.”

Daniel nods, pulling off his shirt before shrugging on the navy striped button up over his shoulders. “So what is it… like poker? Black Jack maybe?”

You ignore the way his abdomen flexes as he readjust the shirt, the buttons still undone and swaying with his movement. “Maybe. I dunno, I heard someone from accounting was gonna bring scrabble.”

He laughs like you were joking. But low and behold, as he walked into the pub behind you, three people were already seated at a table elbow deep in a game of scrabble. Tiles scattered the board as two of the three players argued about the validity of the word. Cards were thrown around, smacked on the table to show off a good hand. Poker chips clatter as they’re pushed across the tables, and littered in all that mess is booze being bought left and right. Between the bustling of bodies and the sweet buzz of conversation, you can just hear the bass of some EDM mix playing on the loudspeaker.

You and Daniel make your way to the bar, immediately greeted by the people who work in your department. They smile up at Daniel, wide-eyed as they shoved you playfully. You didn’t tell me you were friends with the Daniel Ricciardo! You mouth a quick I’m sorry as phones are thrusted in his direction– all of which he takes gracefully, taking selfie after selfie. And after maybe the tenth one, you reach into the crowd of people, gripping his wrist tightly as you pull him to you.

“Alright guys, he’s meant to be on break, leave him alone now.” You wave your hand in the air, shooing away coworkers who just grin and nod, a sea of thank yous sent his way his wrist slips from your grasp to offer them a wave. Daniel grabs the beer set out for the two of you, before slinging his arm over your shoulder and pulling you to a table top in the far end of the bar. He sets the beers down before pulling your chair out for you, hand out for you to boost yourself up onto the lifted chair– a hand you gladly take.

Daniel sits to your left, fingers snaked around the neck of the amber bottle as he brings it up to his lips to take a sip. You watch quietly, spinning the bottle between your index finger and your thumb, eyes fixated on the way his adam's apple bobs up and down as gulps his beer. He doesn't seem to notice– or maybe he just doesn't care. Instead he leans in towards you, eyes fixated on the crowd ahead of him, the hands reaching over tables and the soft slaps of cards being shuffled. “So, what do you think, Uno or Cards Against Humanity?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, sucking in a gust of air between your teeth. “I don't know, as appealing as playing Cards Against Humanity with my coworkers and in turn finding out a little too much about their personal life is, I think Uno might just be our safest option.”

Daniel laughs at your sarcasm. Nodding as he slides out from the table, hand out for you to take. C’mon then, he hums as he encloses your fingers in the warm grip of his hands, tugging you between tables and passer-bys, plopping down at a table of five. You recognize one other person at the table, the dealer, who smiles at you as she deals you and Daniel in. It was meant to start as a friendly little game, with lighthearted laughter and maybe a bit of peaking over at the other’s cards. But between the third and fourth deal, people had begun to throw quid on the table, then all of a sudden you’re down twenty and Daniel was happily collecting the bills on his end. You scowl over at him, nudging his leg with the toe of your shoe.

“You don’t need all this money.”

“Not my fault you suck.” He puckers his lips, sends a kiss over to you in the space between you two.

“Bite me,” You sneer, picking up your new set of seven cards, organizing them by color.

You catch a whiff of his cologne as he leans in. You pull your hand close to your chest, pressing the cards flush against your being as he lines his mouth up to your ear to whisper, “Careful what you wish for.”

Your cheeks flush, bright pink though no one at the table seems to catch it under the dim lighting of the pub. Another game, you’re sure you’ve got the upper hand this time around but then Daniel drops a skip… and then another… and then he stacks a draw two… twice. By the end of the game you had about half the deck of cards in your hands and Daniel counting about forty quid in his hands. You’re scowling again, and he laughs at your misfortune.

You excuse yourself from the table, running up to the bar to get yourself another beer. Stacy– you think her name is Stacy anyway– slides next to you, picking up a bit of conversation. It’s small talk, surface level shit until she’s asking about the boy you had been stuck to all night. She teases you, refers to him as the boy, it makes you feel giddy. To one person in this room, Daniel was your little secret. And it felt nice. It felt good. But you shook your head, the blush taking over your face again as you took the beer that was handed to you, mumbling how he’s just a friend. But Stacy– or is it Sarah? She smiles and shrugs, taking her cocktail as she hops off her bar stool, red straw placed between her coco colored lips to take a sip before stepping back.

“All I’m saying… friends don’t look at friends the way you two look at each other.”

She leaves you at the bar with a sentence equivalent to fuel to a fire. It burns, oh it festers. Your mind reels over every moment, every second you’ve spent with Daniel, trying to figure out how he looked at you.

Your eyes scan over the crowd, the mess of chatter tuned out as you look for a mop of curls which you spot towards the front of the bar. He’s laughing– he’s always laughing. You might’ve been meters away, but you could hear him, the joyful ha has over the multitude of conversation. And for a moment, like every cliche written and produced, the room stops. Suddenly the crowd disappears, the music is turned down, and it’s just you and Daniel. The lamp over the table beams, reflects over his golden skin as he deals the cards down on the table. His fingers are quick, counting quietly to himself as he goes around the table. And when he’s done, he sets the left over cards down in the middle of the table in a neat stack. Before he picks up his set, he reaches over to your seat, pulls the cards together neatly and pats it down before picking up his own. You watch as his slender fingers pick at the cards– that one goes at the end, oh and this one between these two. He picks and pulls, slots cards by cards til he’s satisfied with his line up. Then he squeezes the cards into one stack, setting down on his thigh below the table.

His head turns, you see the soft swing of his curls as he looks around the bar. He looks and looks and oh, relief. Daniel’s shoulders drop when he catches sight of you, a smile so wide your cheeks ache for him. His hand goes up in the air, waving at you to return to your seat. Hurry! You aren’t sure if he actually said it, but you know his lips moved that way. He smiles, his eyes are warm and bright, this sultry kind of brown that you could distinguish from miles away. You miss it as he turns away to immerse himself in a conversation you didn’t care to know about. You smile, just enough so that your cheeks round a bit and your eyes squint in just the slightest. You smile in a way that a girl watches a boy she loves from across the way, watches as he melts into her life. And he melts so well, sits so comfortably without you as he awaits your return. He has his arm slung over your chair, nodding over at someone you could care less about. He laughs at jokes, makes some back, and– god you just couldn’t stop staring. You couldn’t stop watching him. Him, him, always him.

You walk back over to the table, setting a hand on Daniel’s shoulder as you lean down to him. His hand comes up to rest over yours, head turning ever so slightly so that he can see you. Your heart is in overdrive, your body overheating. You try to ignore it. You try, try, try.

“I’m gonna go get some air.”

“You okay?” His brows furrow with concern. You nod, and he doesn’t seem to relax. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Daniel. I’m fine. Just stuffy in here.”

“Well, let me come with.”

He goes to get up from his seat, but you push him back down. “No, no no I’ll be fine.” You smile– you think you do. “I’ll be back. Win this round so you can buy me a drink after.”

He looks unconvinced, eyes scanning your face for a morsel of doubt, for a twitch of lip that would beg him to accompany you. But you keep your expression fair, squeeze his shoulder again, and he concedes. He nods, patting your hand again. “Okay okay, deal.”

Your hand comes up to his cheek, and he leans into your touch as it slips away. He turns his head, watches you walk out the door while the game starts. You feel his eyes burning in a hole in the back of your skull and it only makes you walk quicker.

The cool London air blows the door open, bites at your skin and fights against the warmth pooling with the booze. You wrap your arms around yourself, rubbing your palms against your arm, squeezing the flesh there. Your eyes fall shut, inhaling deeply as you try to center yourself, trying to get ahold of your heart, trying to get it to slow down. Tears were threatening you, choking you.

You didn’t want to say bye. You don’t want all this to end, to have Daniel pluck himself out of your company and back to his normal routines. You don’t want to go back to the facetime calls, and debriefs over texts. No you want to smell the rain, you want the cheeky laughter and fighting over who gets the rest of the cereal. You want late night drives to Taco Bell, and early mornings to get coffee because you were too lazy to run your own. But most of all, you want Daniel. You want the good, the bad, all the highs and all the lows. You want every single moment between now and an indefinite future.

And you felt crazy for wanting such a thing.

You hear the door creak behind you, a bit of the conversation escaping with him before he shuts the door with a soft thud.

“Hey, come back inside. You’re missing out on the game.” Daniel bumps his shoulder with yours, a smile so wide it drives fear into your chest. You look up at him, take all the strength left in you to smile– and you hope that you do it well. His smile, bright, excited, so reminiscent of the Daniel you bumped into some time ago. He’s tanned, hair curly, muscles bulky, he’s back to who he was before a string of bad luck wore him down. He was this new Daniel that you had fallen so head over heels for, and it hurt your heart not to say it.

The words sit in your throat, run it dry and make it hard to breathe. You were getting all choked up with a secret you couldn’t bear to keep.

He bumps your shoulder again, “What? Are you scared to lose again?”

God you were so afraid to lose. But maybe you had already lost more than you could ever admit to yourself.

Daniel says your name.

“I’m in love with you.”

You had a dream about this moment. It happened in the rain, colorful poppies potted in a flowerbed by a house, and oh how the world smelled divine. You could still hear the laughter, still see the smile that graced his face. You dreamt about the way he would wrap himself around you, allow you to bury yourself in his warmth and the scent of fresh fallen rain. In every universe, you imagined the way the words would sound coming from his mouth. You imagined the simplicity, the good in the moment.

But then you see his face run pale, lips parted without the words to back him up. You see how he scratches the back of his neck before it comes around to rub his stubble. And then his fingers are running through his hair. He takes a step back, and there’s this space between you that wasn’t there before. Your name rolls off his tongue, sounds so despondent it twists your heart. It sounds so…

“I-I-I-” You stammer like it would mend the situation, “I’m sorry but… I couldn’t keep it in. Couldn’t continue to pretend like my heart didn’t wanna beat out of my chest everytime I see you, so I just had to– I had to say it.”

You see his chest begin to rise with each breath he takes. It’s slow, but deep. His eyes are wide, they’re panicked, they look so fucking afraid.

“Daniel I–” “What are you doing?” Your lips fall shut. What are you doing? You bite down on your bottom lip, palms pressed together as you rub them in front of you to distract from the tears that were already beginning to cloud your vision. Daniel lets out a breath, hands coming up to run through his hair– again. “Why… why would you say that?” His hands rub his beard, again. “Fuck, Poppy why would you say that?”

The air is caught in your throat. The words on your tongue melt away, daydreams dissolve. You were left with your skin and a heart that continues to shatter because Daniel stares at you like you’ve done something wrong. And all you could, all you had the strength to do, is smile. You smile because that’s all you had left to give. A smile that made your lips quiver, cheeks tremble and wet with your sadness. You don’t know what else to do, so you smile.

“I just needed you to know.”

Daniel drops his face into his hands, shaking his head into his palms. You watch him, watch as he mumbles to himself. You watch in tears, your shattered heart at your feet as you wait for the change in tone, wait for a moment you’ll never live to see. He lifts his gaze back up to you, the panic gone and replaced this kind of pity that makes you wish you never said it in the first place.

He says your name with a bit of remorse, and yet it still sounds beautiful. “I… I can’t. Poppy I’m sorry.”

You let out a breath. It’s your turn to turn away, hands coming up to push your hair back as you tried to control the sobs that threatened to take over you. Another shaky breath, another drop of tears onto your cheeks. You couldn’t let him see you so broken, you can’t let him have that. No, you refused.

“Poppy–” “Daniel, please.” “Poppy you mean so much–”

“Daniel,” You turn around, hand out to motion him to stop, “Please don’t. Please.”

“You are the greatest friend–” He continues anyway, torturing you with the right thing to say– the most reasonable thing to say, “–I could ever ask for. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. How much I–”

“I don’t want that Daniel I–” “–How much I appreciate you.”

He reaches out for you. You should’ve pushed him away, you should’ve stepped back, but god you are so weak for him. So you bask in the warmth of his hand, the way he squeezes it like he was trying to stitch back that hole he left in your chest. You let yourself rest in the false sense of security for just a second. You stare at the point your skin touches, the way his skin contrasts yours, fingers holding onto yours so tightly. It’s warm. It’s good.

It’s good for all of two seconds, and then you’re crying and pulling yourself from him again. You wipe your face with the back of your hand, shaking your head and smiling. Daniel says your name, desperate to get to you again. But you shake your head, take another step back.

“You don’t know how much you mean to me.” His voice is a whisper, nearly overpowered by the gust of cold wind. “Poppy–”

“Daniel, it’s okay.” Your voice breaks because it’s not. But you pretend that it is to save face, to pretend that you can walk away from this moment with your head held high.

He calls your name again, craning his neck so that he can meet your gaze, and you try to avoid it but he comes into view. His hand comes up, chin tucked in his index finger and thumb to lift your face. “But it's not. I can see it on your face.”

“But it has to be, right?”

You clamp your lips into a tight line, tugging your face out of his hold. It’s quiet, tense, and you’re so fucking miserable. For the first time, there’s a sense of dread. In the months you’ve grown to know Daniel, to fall in love with him, in the time that brought you to this moment– you now feel that dread. It sits heavy in your chest, squeezing your heart so tight you think it might pop. If someone had asked you all those months ago if you could picture walking away from Daniel, your answer would be a resounding no. You could never picture yourself doing it– and even if you could, you could always picture running straight back to him.

But now, now you’re forced to reckon with the reality that you have to walk away and never look back. That if you want to hold on to the very little dignity you have left, you should say your goodbyes and walk away. But where was the good in this goodbye? It was just a promise that this is the end, that the next time you see him would not be of your intention. You would have to accept that the only good in this farewell is that it’s permanent.

So in February you walked away with your heart in your hands and a gaping hole in your chest shaped like Daniel. You walked yourself to the underground railway and sobbed because it was the only thing left for you to do. You clutched onto your chest because it hurt so fucking bad.

Daniel collected his items from your apartment the next day while you cried in your bedroom. He knocked on your door, twisted the knob only to find that it’s locked. He said he’s sorry through the door, he said it over and over you had to pull the pillow over your head.

I don’t deserve you Poppy, his voice is muffled but so fucking clear at the same time, I’m sorry Poppy. I… I’ll see you soon.

And then it was over. Daniel was gone– easily, tragically, and all at once. All the memories that mesh together melted into your sadness. It kept you in bed with the blinds drawn shut. Darkness and despair always paired well together.

Your phone pings, the screen lights up and illuminates the bedroom. But you don’t have the heart to look, because you know who it is. You could see his contact photo, you can see the letters spell out his name. So instead you bury yourself deeper into the pillows and blankets, bury yourself deeper into your hopelessness. For just a moment, you wanted to forget that he existed, that he was every part of your life, that you ever poured your heart to him thinking for a second that he would feel the same way.

Daniel 4:33 PM Please don’t forget about me

You’ll never forget him and everything he was to you. Never.

February blends into March. March into April. April to May, June, July. And suddenly it’s August again.

You lay on the beach in Mykonos, nursing another strawberry margarita. You love strawberry margaritas. But this time around, you stay away from the bustling movements of the bar, instead choosing to lounge by the pool in hopes to catch a tan. After all, what was summer for?

You try to ignore the obvious, what the Mykonos was to you a year prior. The memories it gave the person it brought to you. The laughter. The ease. The smell of fresh fallen rain. All the good in Daniel clung onto you and you clung right back. A year ago you met someone who changed your worldview, caught a glimpse of your soul, before shattering your being. He was the best and worst thing that could’ve possibly happened to you.

August… August and all the months that followed slipped away in a moment in time. It fell to the back of your mind, laid to rest so that you’d find a bit of peace. You hope Daniel is well, wherever he is in the world. You hope that he hasn’t forgotten about you, like how you haven’t forgotten him.

Another sip of your strawberry margarita, drinking down the remnants of slush in the glass before setting it down and laying it back. And the sun disappeared, a shadow took its place. But you were warm, you were comforted, you felt at peace. You felt good. So you smile, hand coming up to block the bits of sunlight that peek behind him. You catch a glimpse of messy curls and a smile so wide you’re sure it hurts.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

d rambles. . . hey girl hey. i haven't put out a fic in fucking ages, sorry bout that. but yay, new blog, new fic!! this turned into a MONSTER, but i think im happy with how it all came together. was the ending a little rushed? maybe. but in my defense, this whole fic turned out soooo much longer than i initially planned. anyways. i hope you liked this one & as always, feedback is always always appreciated.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo angst

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suashii · 1 month

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— 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ౨ৎ

bakugo katsuki x reader. 1k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ just a short lil somethin' for the birthday boy!

“i can’t believe you’re choosing to work on your birthday.” the sun is just beginning to rise, its rays spilling past your sheer curtains. you haven’t left the warm comfort of your bed yet, but bakugo is busy getting ready for the day ahead. the weather is getting warmer which means he’s traded out his winter costume for his usual sleeveless tank. you prefer it over the jacket he wears during the cold months—being able to see his arms, that is. the effort he puts into his workouts doesn’t go unnoticed. “who does that?”

he’s putting his belt on now, ruby irises focused on the task at hand rather than you. still, he offers an explanation to your curiosity. “it’s just another day on the calendar.”

“nuh-uh.” you shake your head and sit up. leave it to katsuki to downplay his birthday. “it’s another rotation around the sun—another year of life! you of all people should be celebrating that.”

bakugo has never placed much importance on his birthday, not as a child and certainly not as a teenager, so he doesn’t see the point in changing that now. he isn’t much of the celebrating type either, at least, not when it comes to himself. he’s content living this day just like any other and he tells you as much.

“i’m just saying,” you shrug, “the world can go one day without dynamight.”

you’re adamant about making your point and such unwavering persistence from anyone else would annoy bakugo beyond belief, but since it's you, he decided to let it slide. he’s even willing to entertain you—it’s clear that you’re skirting around what you really want to say. “and what would you suggest i do with my day instead of spending it at work?”

you smile. “i’m glad you asked. the most obvious answer is get back in bed and go back to sleep.”

“that’s what weekends are for,” he argues. you huff at how easily he dismisses you and cross your arms as you watch him continue getting dressed for the day. the thought would have been enough to seal the deal for you but you suppose bakugo will need something a little sweeter to convince him to take it easy for a day.

“um, you could do something with kirishima and denki?” he may try to deny it, but he likes his friends more than he lets on. even if it’s later, you’re sure they wouldn’t mind stopping by and taking him out to have some fun. “it’s been a while since all of you have hung out.”

he frowns, picking up all of the equipment he’d rather not put on until he makes it to his agency. “no thanks. i don’t need those guys making an even bigger deal out of me than they usually do.”

you’re about to ask what’s so wrong with being the center of attention on his birthday when you realize he’s on his way out of the bedroom. “woah, wait! where are you going?”

“to make my lunch,” he tells you over his shoulder.

you hadn't planned on getting out of bed so soon but you find yourself scrambling to throw the blanket aside so that you can follow him to the kitchen. the man’s gauntlets and neck brace make a home on the dining table while bakugo picks out everything he needs from the fridge. it’s chilly—a combination of leaving your duvet and the cold air from the appliance. you cling to bakugo’s back, arms tightening around his waist in an attempt to leech off of his warmth.

he navigates the kitchen with you hanging off of him, not once bothering to complain or try to pry you off. the lack of resistance on his end allows you time to think up another reason he should forgo his duties for the day.

“ooh! you could go to the spa!” you’re sure this should do the trick. what’s better than taking some time to rest and loosen your muscles? “i’m sure a massage would do you some good.”

he shoots you a quick glance and you already know his reply before it even passes his lips. “do i look like someone who goes to spas?”

you press your forehead against his back and groan into his shirt. the vibrations must tickle because he squirms beneath you. there’s no winning with him, it seems.

“fine,” you sigh, turning your head so that your cheek rests against him. “i accept defeat. i’ll celebrate your birthday by myself… all alone… without you.”

you can’t see it, but a crease forms between bakugo’s eyebrows as he shapes the rice balls into neat triangles. “what are you talking about?”

“it’s nothing,” you tell him with a small pinch to his abdomen. “i just thought you’d be more excited to celebrate. i was, anyway.”

that’s it—that’s what you’ve been trying to get at since you started pestering him half an hour ago. it’s unlike you to dance around your words and he wonders if you did so because you thought he’d turn you down, thought that he’d choose work over you.

bakugo turns around in your hold so he’s facing you. your head is tipped up to meet his gaze. he leans down to press his lips against your hairline and lets them linger there with his next words. “if you wanted to spend the day with me, you should have just said so, dummy.”

you pout at the name but it doesn’t last for long and is quickly replaced with a smile. “you caught me. but i promise i’ll make it worth your while.”

“you better.” his hands make a home on your waist, gently, lovingly squeezing them. “because if you had told me that to begin with, i wouldn’t have wasted precious time getting ready for work.”

thanks for reading! pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: my hero academia #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo fluff #mha fluff #bakugo drabble #mha drabbles

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dulcibella-dreams · 3 months

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Tempest.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛆ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛈ Makoto Yuki/Minato Arisato X GN reader

Synopsis: The weather is absolutely dismal, and you missed the train.

You could barely see.

The rain peltered the floor, creating a suffocating veil of gloomy mist. All you could do was speed walk through the monochromatic canvas. Soaked to the bone, your hair clung like wet silk to your skin, and you were pretty sure you accidentally ate some of your own rain-soaked strands. The day had started relatively sunnily, so you had no good reason to bring an umbrella. Oh, how you wished you had.

Holding the straps of your schoolbag like a lifeline, you rushed to the monorail's stop. Under the awning, you took a moment of respite to breathe. Your bag hit the ground, and you wrung out your dripping curtain of hair. Realising the weather had made you late, you checked the arrival and departure times. You almost fell to the floor and threw a tantrum when you saw the next train wouldn’t arrive for another hour. You hugged your own body, vehemently plunking down onto the bench. As your teeth chattered and water filtered out of the sides of your shoes, you envied the people who had arrived on time—probably at home with heaters and dry clothes right about now.

Your dreary thoughts were interrupted by footsteps. Someone quickly stepped into the stop, sheltering something in their jacket. Makoto! You definitely hadn’t expected him. He hadn’t realised you were the shivering person just yet, finger combing his drenched hair. You watched as he pulled out his MP3 player from underneath his jacket, while the book that couldn't fit in his bag lay drenched under his arm. Priorities, you supposed. As he turned, his eyes met yours, and they lit up in recognition. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t see you,” he said. You waved it off as he sat down next to you. Moving in closer, you took the ink-stained workbook out of his hands, cringing at the ink blots on the pages. You closed it and put it in your own bag, having enough space. He gave you a silent look of gratitude.

“I didn’t see you when I left school, so I assumed you’d already gone,” you said sheepishly. You glanced at Makoto, who was adjusting his drenched hair. “If I’d known, I would’ve wanted to walk with you.” He turned toward you, a small smile playing on his lips. “We ended up together anyway, though. I suppose it worked out?”

Makoto carefully placed his MP3 player in his schoolbag. “When does the train come, anyways?” he asked. You almost groaned again. “in an hour...” you replied. He fiddled with his bangs, a soft sigh escaping him. He looked tired, but then again, he always did.

“If the rain settles down, we may as well walk…” he mused, though there seemed to be no sign of the weather calming. The sound of rain hitting the stop was almost deafening. “Unless we want to catch the meanest cold ever, I’d advise against it.” You’d rather sit here for hours than feel the rain seep into your scalp again. Makoto’s hair was even longer when wet. He was currently picking at the corner of his mouth, removing the hair that had found its way through his lips without invitation.

“Not like Mitsuru would let us skip school if we had a cold, anyways.” He mumbled.

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t she deem it ‘a danger to the student body’?” This made him laugh softly. It was a very gratifying sound, coming from a boy who usually remained expressionless. Though it warmed you up, it didn’t quite fix your waterlogged clothes. As the wind picked up, you heard the rumble of thunder. You were increasingly uneasy, watching the thin trees sway. You didn’t like storms. Suddenly, you felt the intense need to be indoors. You succeeded in suppressing your rising panic, though it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You alright?” Makoto tilted his head slightly, gauging you. You were going to shake your head and say ‘it’s fine,’ but something about his nature made it easy to open up. “I just…I really don’t like weather like this. It puts me on edge.”

Makoto looked at you for a quiet moment before reaching into his bag. Pulling out his music player, he offered his headphones to you. “…Do you want to listen with me?”

You sensed Makoto’s intention—to provide you with a distraction. It was…sweet. Absurdly so. It had been a while since someone had done something so considerate for you. Your cheeks felt warm. “Yeah, sure!” As the music played, you tried to lose yourself in its melody, separating each instrument from the beat. You started to feel less troubled.

But when your anxious mind coerced you to fix your gaze at the weather, his fingers found your face. Gently, he turned your gaze downward, and you watched as he took your hand in his. His touch radiated warmth, a stark contrast to your frozen skin. You reveled in his velvety hands, well-kept with strong, healthy nails. Makoto wasn’t accustomed to intimacy; his parents' passing had denied him such simple comforts. This had inevitably rendered him touch-starved. He understood that you sought solace in this connection— he enjoyed it just as much as you did, if not more.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the train finally arrived. As you both stood—muttering words like 'finally' and 'about time—he never released your hand. Looking into his eyes, that warm, fond feeling overtook you again.

"What would I do without you, Makoto?"

#makoto yuki x reader #minato arisato x reader #p3 protagonist x reader #persona 3 x reader #persona 3 #persona 3 reload #persona 3 portable

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imaginesheaven · 1 year

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Bar Owner!Reader x TF 141 - Part III

Like my follower requested: Finally the final part of the Bar Owner!Reader series. I hope you all like it. It was so fun to create it all for you. I listened to the 5 centimeters per second original sountrack the whole time writing this. I've got happy tears in my eyes :)

Warnings: Curse words (like always)

Captain John Price

John knows already for years that he is deeply in love with you yet he didn’t want to accept it. From day to day it gets harder to push the realization into the back of his mind. If you would feel the same you would have said something already. He assumes you are not looking for a relationship. Probably especially not with someone who is always away on missions. Someone who is always in danger to die very soon. Someone like John.

He takes another sip from his whiskey watching you how you serve your customers. It’s a warm evening and you all hang out in the garden behind your bar. You look so incredibly happy talking with everybody while Cougar trails after you like a lost puppy. Your joy radiates like a ray of sunshine. Behind you the sun is setting on the hills coloring you in a deep orange. It makes you even more breathtaking than you already are.

“I think you should tell (Y/N) what you feel”, Kate next to him says nonchalantly like she would talk about the amazing weather. “Am I that easy to look through?”, Price thought no one would know about his little secret. His ever-growing love for you.

“John, humor me for a second. I noticed how you look at (Y/N) when you think no one can see you. Don’t you think you let (Y/N) waiting long enough?”, Kate gives him an overly confident smile. “What do you know, Laswell?”, John tries not to sound too excited. His heart keeps hammering against his chest. Racing to catch up to you.

“I don’t want to give away too much, but if (Y/N) would have died the bar and Cougar would have been yours. Is that enough for you?”, Laswell lets him on your very own little secret. John stares at her in disbelief. The bar is everything you have ever loved in your life. Just like Cougar. You trust him so deeply knowing he would keep both safe and sound.

Price stands up from his chair making his way over to you. “Hey, John!”, your whole face lights up as you see him coming closer. He loves how you say his name. Your voice so full of kindness and love. It makes his knees weak.

He can’t stop himself anymore as he cups your face softly in his big hands. Surprised you look at him with a slight blush on your cheeks. “You have no idea how much I love you”, not waiting for your reaction John presses a soft kiss onto your lips.

Shocked you let go of the drinks, which splatter onto the grass. Doubts creep in John’s mind breaking away from you, but you stop them immediately as you wrap your arms around him pulling him into another kiss. “What took you so damn long?”, you lean your forehead against his.

Everyone starts to cheer loudly. Especially Kate. She is over the moon to see you happy once again. It brings the two of you back into reality. “I’m sorry for making you wait, love.”

It took John years to confess his love to you, but he makes sure to catch up all the things you two have missed. John tries literally everything to make all your dreams come true. Sometimes he forgets that he is the only thing you ever wanted in life.

He is so very thankful for the joy you bring him every single day he can be with you. You were all along his reason to come back safely from missions, but now John is allowed to drown in your love openly. You are his one and only. The ray of sunshine he needs to forget all the pain and misery he has been put through.

Even if you love to make fun of the fact he waited for years not realizing you feel the same all the time. John takes it with pride, “The best things in life take time, love.” Naming drinks that take longer to prepare after him.

Bonus

(Y/N): So, you set John up to confess finally?

Kate: Yes, it worked, right? But I might have lied to him about something…

(Y/N): Kate… What did you say?

Kate: … I might have told him that you would give him your bar and Cougar if you would have died.

(Y/N): … Well, that’s not that much of a lie. I totally would have, but I’m not that easy to kill.

Kate: Oh, come on. Don’t act like a superhero.

(Y/N): … I took out half of the Russian military, Kate. I am a fucking superhero.

Kate: … *rolls her eyes* Damn it. That’s true.

Soap: *witnessing everything* HALF OF THE RUSSIAN MILITARY?!?

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon keeps his love for you hidden away with the rest of his emotions. Everyone knows he has a soft spot for you, but not how much his heart yearns for you. He wants to share his life with you. He wants you to know the real Simon. The one behind the mask. He wants you to see how vulnerable he can be, because he knows you would never hurt him.

“Fucking hell”, Ghost mumbles under his breath slowly overwhelmed by his feelings and thoughts. “Hey, boys. Another round?”, you stand by the table giving everyone your best smile. Simon can’t believe how much he loves you. It almost physically hurts.

Without a word he stands up to leave the bar. The fresh air calms his racing mind, but he doesn’t even try to untangle those confusing thoughts. Every single one of them revolves around you like they always do. How long can he uphold this façade?

“Hey, you okay?”, you followed him outside pointing towards the garden chairs, “Wanna take a seat?” It’s actually too cold to sit outside yet he accepts your offer thankfully. In silence the two of you sit together. You look at the sky seeing a ton of stars this night. Ghost looks at you wondering which god has sent you his way. You don’t try to start an uncomfortable conversation. Not even once you forced him to talk to you. He’s incredibly grateful for the way you deal with his peculiarities.

“Sometimes when I get overwhelmed by my thoughts I look at the stars. I try to remember all the constellations I learned over the years. It took me years to learn that it’s actually okay not to be okay and w-“, you don’t mind holding an one-sided conversation. Simon could listen to your voice all day long yet he interrupts you, “I love you.”

Simon can’t look at you after his rather blunt confession scared to see rejection in your eyes. You take his hand in yours softly to get his full attention, “I love you too, Simon.” There is only admiration and kindness in your eyes. His heart swells with happiness.

You know it wouldn’t be easy to love Simon yet you still did it with all you had. First things first, this man has to learn to trust again. Opening up himself. He lived so long behind a mask not sure how to be a functioning human being anymore. You are always there for Simon giving him exactly what he needs. Patience, love, honesty, safety.

This man would literally die for you in an instant.

You adjust to keeping your relationship under the radar for a while. Not even his team knows about the two of you. Except for Price. He knew right away after Simon confessed his love to you during that night.

One evening in the bar Simon decides it is time to make it official. Johnny likes to flirt with you in a platonic way. “Amazing drinks as always, sweetheart”, Soap winks at you grinning like the childish boy he still is.

“That’s my partner you are flirting with, Johnny”, Simon wraps his arm around your middle as you stand next to him by the table. A few seconds no one dares to say a word. Price leans back impressed by Ghost’s openness, “Pay up, Gaz.” Kyle rolls his eyes as he hands over the money.

“You did not bet on us?!”, you throw your rag laughing at Price. He raises his hands in surrender, “Sorry, it was clear as the day. Had to take the chance to win a fine bet.” Gaz shrugs one shoulder, “I thought you two would be just friends.”

Soap stares at all of you clearly confused, “Am I the only one who did not about this at all?” Smiling you push his shoulder playfully, “Your head is always up in the clouds to notice the small things.” Cougar pushes his way forward to put his head on Ghost’s leg begging for head scratches.

“Oh, that’s why Cougar likes you more now!”, Soap puts the puzzle pieces together way later than everyone else. Simon can’t explain in words how happy he is in this moment. He finally found his very own little family.

Bonus

Soap: So… (Y/N), did you see Simon without his mask?

(Y/N): … No, not yet and that’s totally fine.

Soap: You didn’t kiss yet?! Simon! What are you waiting for?

Ghost: Fucking hell, Johnny! None of your business!

(Y/N): Don’t be so harsh, Simon. Johnny doesn’t know how to woe his partner.

Ghost: … *tries not to snicker*

Soap: That’s right! I don’t know … wait, what? HEY!

Ghost: *proud of you* (Y/N), I love you so much~

John “Soap” MacTavish

Let’s be honest, everyone would know right away that this man is so in love with you. Soap is not someone who can keep things like this a secret. As soon as he lays his eyes on you his whole face lights up and nothing can bring him ever down.

“Fucking hell, Johnny, tell (Y/N) what you feel or I do it. I can’t stand you drooling over the whole table anymore”, Ghost doesn’t mean it literally, but Soap’s puppy eyes and lovesick grin the whole evening make him gag eventually.

Soap would love to tell you what he feels, but is just way too scared to lose you. “Just rip it off like a band-aid”, Gaz isn’t really the right one to give out flirt tips yet he does it anyways. Gaz and Ghost would team up against Soap; teasing him non-stop to push him to his limits so he would finally confess his undying love for you. “Boys, please, leave the poor lovesick baby alone”, Price smiles into his whiskey knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Soap stands up from his chair without a further word making his way towards the good old jukebox. He choses the first song he played over and over again to annoy you. It’s also actually the song that reminds him off you. When Soap is away from you he is always listening to this song.

You can’t help yourself from yelling out an amused “Johnny!” as you make your way towards him. A slight smile appears on his lips as he falls over and over in love with you once again. It is the first time you ever called him Johnny and it’s the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

He grabs your hands in his to overplay how hard they are actually shaking. The nervousness is eating at him, “Just listen for a second. I really need to get this off of my chest … Then you can yell at me or whatever.”

“The first time I ever saw you has burned into my mind, because it was the best moment in my whole life. You are a ray of sunshine. Every time I’m with you I experience so much happiness and joy like I could hug the entire world. If I could I would drown in this feeling for the rest of my life… Not that I’m proposing… I mean if you want me to I-I … Oh shit…”

Everything started out so good for him, then he starts to stumble upon his own words. Still Johnny keeps pouring his heart into his one-sided speech, “I really like you, (Y/N). I’m not the best catch out there I know but I pro-…”

You cut his rambling off with a brief but meaningful kiss. “You talk way too much sometimes, Johnny”, you wink at him grinning and the whole bar interrupts your moment with cheering. Cougar makes him way in between the two of you to share some of the love.

This man worships the ground you walk on and would do everything for you. Sometimes Soap is a bit childish, but it doesn’t bother you at all. It reminds you to enjoy the life how it is and don’t worry too much. He still loves to get on your nerves with doing stupid shit. Here and there Soap even teams up with Gaz to make it double trouble.

“Sweetie, you love me, right?” – “You are god damn lucky you are cute, Johnny…”

Johnny is literally moving in with you after the two of you start dating. You can’t convince me otherwise. Being always by your side is his way of love language. Of course, you are not mad about having him around you all the time.

But the most important thing is that you bring Johnny peace and happiness. For the first time in forever he learns what being in love with someone really means. Having a reason to come back in one piece from missions. Johnny loves wrapping you up in his arms for sure being the happiest man on earth.

“I love you so damn much, (Y/N).” – “I love you too, Johnny.”

Bonus

Can’t forget about the most important fact of your relationship. Sharing your lovely Scottish man with your dog…

Johnny: Don’t look at me like that. I love you so much, Cougar. You are my number one.

You: … Do you want some alone time with my dog, Johnny?”

Johnny: No, no, you can stay if you want :)

You: … -.-

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Gaz is quite decent hiding his growing feelings for you behind his poker face. No one knows how much it costs him to keep up his coolness. He lost completely control over his own body. You entering the room is enough for him to turn into a blushing mess How is he supposed to tell you what he feels without making a fool out of himself?

Silently sighing Gaz downs his drink in one single sip. He hates how easy everyone seems to interact with you. Soap always makes you laugh with his jokes, while he can’t even make a conversation without starting to ramble or stutter.

Gaz only wants to let you know how much you mean to him. That you make his life so much better. You are literally perfection and out of his league. Why does he even bother to try? His desperation reaches another level.

Only alcohol can help him now. He downs another drink earning a concerned glance from Price, “You okay?” With a slight smile on his lips Gaz stands up, “Never have been better, Cap.” John just witnessed him downing two handful of drinks within an hour. He is clearly not okay, but maybe Gaz reached finally the level where he will confess his love to you. Price will keep an eye on him from afar.

“Hey there”, you greet Gaz with a smile that lights his whole world up. He hops onto the bar stool almost falling over with the whole thing trying to be cool. “Are you drunk?”, you have never seen him like that before ever again. Gaz usually knows his limits.

“No, not drunk. Only a bit tipsy”, an overly confident grin is plastered on his face. Knowing what an effect you have on him you lean forward pulling him closer towards you by his shirt collar, “Then proof it.” His eyes widen full of panic for a second, while his heart skips a beat just to double up the speed afterwards.

“If I would be drunk I would tell you how perfect you are. I would tell you how much love I have in my heart for you. There is a space in there that is shaped exactly like you. Being near you makes me so damn happy I have never been before. I could drown in your lovely eyes. This must be true love…. But I’m not drunk so therefore I’m not telling you all of this.”

His truthful words leave you shocked. A slight blush appears on your cheeks.

“Well, you just said it out loud, buddy”, Soap just stands a few centimeters away from the two of you witnessing everything. Realization hits Gaz like a baseball bat in his face. His drunk ass just confessed not knowing he spoke all of his thoughts out loud?!

“Soap!”, you throw your rag at him. Without a further word Gaz stands up bailing out completely sober now and makes his way out of the bar. “Oh no, for sure not!”, Price grabs him by his shoulders and guides Gaz back to the counter, where you are still standing.

“Don’t you dare to run away from me ever again”, you grab his chin to place a kiss onto his lips. Soap giggles in the background, Ghost makes fake gag sounds and Price just rolls his eyes, “Get a room, kids.”

Gaz still can’t believe his luck even after weeks of dating. You are the only good thing in his life and he would give everything to make you happy. Which means he lives his romantic side to its fullest. Planning out dates like almost every week. Burying you under a wave of presents he thinks you might like. Writing you pages and pages of meaningful words hoping you can understand what you mean to him.

But as soon as his ass is planted in the bar he turns into a literal child. Bickering with Soap about the jukebox. Making bets with him who can annoy you the worst. Sneaking drinks behind your back and so on. He even teams up with Soap AND Cougar singing songs from the jukebox. Well, Cougar only barks away happily having a blast with Gaz by his side.

“You are all grounded for the rest of the week!” – “No, baby! I love you! You know that, right? RIGHT?! BABY!”

Bonus

Gaz: … Thank you, Captain, for giving me the push I needed.

Price: You are welcome, kid… but please stay away from the alcohol.

Soap: … What about me? I helped too!

Gaz: You made everything worse!

Soap: I did not! You wanted to run away!

Gaz and Soap: *start pushing each other*

Price: Boys, behave.

(Y/N): … I love all of you, but bloody hell what did I get myself into?

Tagging @apathetickun @missroro @abbiesxox @flyingmushroomss

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rrei1 · 1 year

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╭﹐❣︎﹕ Racer’s Desire ﹒〣 ﹕‹𝟹 － 𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭 𝖸．

music rec!. Chill Bill- Rob $tone (Ft J. Davis & Spooks)

Sex, Drugs, Etc. - Beach Weather

cw/tw. , smoking, weed, cussing, miscarriage, angst, panic attack, racer!blackreader, racer!eren, eren is a dick

summary. - he left. no warning, no note, no phone call or text— he just left, without a word to anyone. Till one night he showed up to a race meet surprising you which causes some..conflict.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐃 instantly went through my nose as i lit the blunt that was placed between my lips, taking a big inhale moving my attention back to whatever the hell was going on. I was met up at a street meeting with some of my members waiting till the event begins, i averted my eyes through the crowd to see what the competition brought and honestly— It looked like easy wins compared to us. I silently scoffed to myself as I took another inhale from the blunt still eyeing the crowd, I must've been too deep into thought to realize Isiah was calling for my attention.

Breaking eye contact with the crowd I turned my head to face the dread head with a raised brow. “Finally, I've been calling you for like— the past 30 seconds!” I only rolled my eyes, placing the weed stick back between my lips, inhaling the smoke into my mouth before removing it, exhaling it as i spoke, “You got my attention now what do you want.” Isiah raised his hands in the air with a grin planted on his face, “Woah there doll, there’s no reason to get so feisty,” I only grumbled under my breathe rolling my eyes as he laughed, “You better watch it Siah, (Y/N) might beat your ass again.” Chuckled Kai, Isiah gasped offensively as he placed a hand on his heart like he was hurt by what he said, “She never even beat my ass to begin with! She got a cheap blow and she knows it.” He huffed I once again rolled my eyes as I now sat up from leaning against my car with a scoff, “We all know i won that fight Siah, stop tryna make it seem like I cheated. Just admit you’re a terrible fighter when it comes to me.” Isiah just grumbled under his breath rolling his eyes. “Man whatever. Back to what I was saying, tonight’s races are gonna be interesting.” I raised a brow, “How so? And it bet not be one of those cat fights again,” Isiah shook his head in an instant with a grin on his face, “Nope! It’s more than that.” That piqued all of our curiosity, I nodded my head a little. “Okay then, just spit it out Isiah we don’t have all goddamn night.” Marci grumbled out, “Okay okay! Let’s just say a certain brown head is entering a challenge race between Suki, Aj and (Y/N) later tonight.” I froze upon just hearing him say “brown head” instantly knowing who he meant.

There was only one brown head i know and that’s..

Eren fucking Jaeger.

A 24 year old cocky bastard that caused many problems with many different people. Including you, so hearing he was showing his face again after two long fucking years excited you but also angered you. You were excited to see him again but also pissed off that he has some nerve to come back acting like nothing happened when he straight up left you. “Ah, so the jackass Eren Jaeger is finally showing his face again?” Kai scoffed but instantly got interrupted when.“Ouch, Kai. That’s not a very nice thing to say now is it?” A deep voice occurred, the group turned around to face the familiar voice to be shown Eren standing with the rest of his group grinning towards them, Kai scoffed at him walking towards him but stopped when he felt a pair of hands grab him by his shoulders pushing him back a little, he looked to see who it was and it was no other than yourself walking in front of him towards Eren who had a raised brow.

You walked towards him as you took an inhale of your blunt feeling the warm smoke entered your mouth, stopping infront of him leaning forward blowing out the smoke in his face with a scowl, “Wassup Jaeger? Decided to finally show your face again after you practically just up and leave? Or did your little guard dog over there force you to come?.” You nodded towards Mikasa who had her hand clenched together glaring at you, she walked one step towards you before Jean held her back putting a hand on her shoulder. Eren hummed, shrugging his shoulders, “Mm, nah. I just decided to come because I heard you were racing again tonight. Plus i just missed my precious little (Y/N) and wanted to see if you still got it or..” He stopped leaning down towards your ear, “You’re gonna lose like the last time.” He chuckled, leaning back as he took the blunt out of your hand to place it between his lips, turning around to walk away leaving you standing there with a annoyed look on your face glaring at the back of his head.

“See me personally, I would never let that sli-'' Before Isiah had the chance to finish the sentence you side kicked him in the gut walking away towards your car to get ready for the race without saying a word to anyone. Marci walked towards him who was holding onto his stomach laughing at him. “What did we say Isiah? We told you to stop messin with her.” The dread head only rolled his eyes still whimpering from the harsh kick he received, as for you, you slammed closed your car door gripping the steering wheel glaring ahead of you. You have always been short tempered since you were a toddler so thinking of how easily Eren pissed you off and acted like how he didn’t just straight up leave you made you more mad than you already were, you shakily let go of the purple steering wheel leaning back into your seat running your hands down your face. You breathed in and out trying to relax yourself before you had to line up for the race to begin. Once you felt yourself relaxed you placed your hand back on the steering wheel starting your car hearing that satisfying roar, “Calm down (Y/N)..breathe and calm down. Just win this race.”

Just win this race.

You repeated, you silently smiled to yourself as you finally relaxed. You looked down towards your stomach silently rubbing it, “I’ll win this for you baby..for you and i.” You sighed as you looked back up, pressing the gas pedal to go to the lineup for the race to start. When you pulled up to the start line everyone instantly started to cheer and shout seeing your car enter the crowd, guess everyone missed you that much to be only focused on you— I mean it has been a couple of months since the last time you appeared because of an incident.. You grinned as you heard your name being shouted as you stopped to get ready for the race to start, you reared your engine a few times having that satisfying roar leave its engine. You looked to the side to see Suki smirking towards you as you gave her a grin. You then turned to your left side to see the bastard himself already lined up next to you giving you a taunting wave, you practically growled under your breath tearing your eyes away from him to face the straight street ahead of you.

You faced the front as well, watching Queen taking her spot in the middle. She grinned as she looked over at Eren then me then Suki and Aj then the front where she can see all cars in view. "I want a nice, fair, and easy race! No interfering with your opponent, No cheating, No BULLSHIT!. This race contains the four racers on the startin line, your task is to go all the way down and back!. Winner takes the prize money!.” She raised the blue bandanna in the air as all the cars started rearing there engines, she grinned upon hearing the engines roar.

“Go!”

You instantly pressed down on the gas pedal feeling the car jerk forward speeding down the street. You were so lost into trying to winning the race you didn’t realize Eren was inches away from speeding in front of you, you glanced to the side to see the dark green car lined up with yours, you furrowed your eyebrows glancing back to the road as you pressed more down on the gas pedal speeding in front of him. He raised his brow seeing your car speed past him, he grinned to himself as he pressed down on the gas pedal being side to side with you once again. He looked over to glance at you to see you were nothing but pure focused on winning the race. He knows that look like the back of his hand and once he sees that look planted on your face he knows you are not to be messed with when your head is in the game. It made him slightly smile at the memory when you once threw a stuffed animal his way when you were focused on making ideas for car parts for your car, it’s one of his favorite memories that always lingered in the back of his mind.

Oh how he missed you..

He turned his way back ahead to see the turn corner, he grunted as he placed his left hand on the lever getting ready to drift. When the turn appeared he pulled the lever up turning his wheel all the way to the right drifting back onto the straight road, when the road was in his vision he pulled down the lever turning his wheel straight taking off again. He swore he thought you were far behind but was proven wrong when he saw your black car speed past him, he felt his eyes widen seeing you speed off and towards the finish line. You smirked as you looked in your rear view to see him far behind, “Still got it.” You mumbled. When you saw the crowd of people enter your vision you crossed the finish line with Eren right behind you, you brake your car, turning off the engine and stepping out of the car with a cocky grin. You watched as Eren stepped out of his car with a scowl on his face, you knew he hated losing and by the look on his face he was pissed.

“Looky here, mister Jaeger came in second how cute that is huh?” You chuckled, he practically growled under his breath as he stared at you. “You’ve got some nerve sayin i came in second. You gotta admit (Y/N) i was close in coming first and you knew it.” You laughed rolling your eyes. “Yeah but who came in first?” You teased, but for Eren he was far too pissed off to even take teasing at the moment, he slowly walked over towards you, leaning down towards your height. “Yeah? But let’s not forget how you practically had a panic attack in a middle of a race causing you to crash, huh? Remember that?”

You felt everything slow down, everything moved in slow motion.

You were going above the speed limit as you were panicking, you didn’t give a care at the moment as you were speeding off to go somewhere, anywhere that’s far away from him. You were so deep into thought you didn’t hear the honking of another car being targeted towards you, after the third honk you snapped out of it swerving your car to the right as the other car barely missed you. You felt the tears starting to blur your vision which caused you to immediately press the brake pedal, when you felt the car stop you gripped the steering wheel as your body started to violently shake.

Your breathing was uneven as you tried to calm yourself down. “F-Fuck..” Your body felt extremely hot as your face felt wet due to the non stop tears going down your face, you don’t why he said it but when he did you just snapped. All the emotions you had since you found out you lost your baby came back after so long of trying to heal yourself and keep them away.

When the day you got into that crash was the day you found out you were pregnant and you had miscarried.

“I’m sorry to say Ms. (Y/L/N), but due to many fractures of your body..unfortunately you had miscarried.” The nurse had said, as for you, you were confused and frozen as you were sat up in your bed. “Miscarried? W-What do you mean?.” The nurse bit down on her lip seeing as that you didn’t even know you were pregnant in the first place, she softly sighed walking towards your bed and crouching down towards your height taking your shaking bandaged hand into hers with a sad look. “(Y/N), you were 10 weeks pregnant. And due to you fracturing many parts of your body, it caused you to miscarry your child.” You felt your world grumble to the floor upon hearing that leave her mouth. You were pregnant and you didn’t even know? I mean you could say one morning you were feeling a little sick throwing up out of nowhere and just not feeling good at all but you just thought it was something you ate the other night brushing it off. But it came to realize..the reason why you were feeling sick and puking your guts out was because you were indeed pregnant. You had lost your baby..your sweet little angel that didn’t even get a chance to live.

You were feeling so many emotions you didn’t know what to do, after you heard the news you had stopped racing for awhile, smoking and even hanging out with the gang, they all grew suspicious of the act but just brushed it off not wanting to bother you while you were in the state you were in. After a while you decided to tell them what had been going on and what happened. “What’s been going on, (Y/N)? You’ve been ignoring us for the past month now. We’re worried about you..” Marci said sadly as she watched you nervously play with your fingers. “I- I’ve..uhm.” You couldn’t form the right sentence as you instantly felt the tears come down your cheek. This made the group widen their eyes to see you violently shaking and tears coming down your face fast, they all came over to you into a group hug, leaning your head into Kai’s shoulder just letting out the emotions that were in you.

Kai silently shushed you into your ear as he softly played with your braids knowing it would kinda help calm you down, as for Isiah and Marci they were whispering nothing but it’ll be okay or we’re here for you etc etc. You continued crying onto Kai’s shoulder feeling your whole body weaken, you were weak..you were mentally fucked, you were depressed, you were just going through a lot. As you began to calm down after a few minutes you decided to tell them what you’ve been hiding for so long, “When I had woken up in the hospital bed the nurse w-was already there to do whatever she needed to do. She had begun to tell me what had happened and said i badly fractured my body..t-then she mentioned that i..i had m-miscarried.”

You were afraid they would be disgusted with you but you were proven wrong when they all took care of you and helped you back up on your feet, you leaned your head against the steering wheel with faint breaths as you tried to calm down. You felt your grip on the wheel loosen as they went limp on your lap but soon rubbed your tummy with a small smile.

“I told you we would win..”

He just stood there frozen with wide eyes still feeling the sting you had left on his cheek. You had speeded off into the faint night leaving the crowd shocked and confused, as for the gang Isiah and the rest were pissed off. Kai had walked up towards him slightly shoving him back into Jean’s chest. “Fuck is your problem dawg? You just go out of your way to bring that shit up?!” He yelled walking towards him but got stopped when Isiah grabbed him by the shoulder. Eren furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the two males glare at him, “Oh, so it’s okay when she gets to tease him but when he does it-“ Jean started but got interrupted, “That wasn’t teasin are fuckin stupid?!. That’s bringing up trauma she had to face!” Marci yelled making the group go silent, Eren looked up making to look at her, “Trauma? What trauma?” He questioned, Marci rolled her eyes glaring towards the male, “She was fucking pregnant. With YOUR baby.”

Silence.

His eyes widened, “Pregnant?!”

The group furrowed their eyebrows as confusion started to linger, “Trauma? What are you talking about?.” Armin asked, Marci scoffed and rolled her eyes. “For god sake! When she crashed into that god damn race. She lost her baby, YOUR baby! She was fucking pregnant.” Everything went silent, the crowd had gasps leaving their mouths with whispers beginning as Eren widened his eyes.

“Pregnant?”

A/N : Pt 2 coming…NEVER 🤣.

👀

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zaceouiswriting · 6 months

Text

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.16

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

A warm summer breeze blew over me and tickled my skin. As soon as I entered the old training field, once used for both mages and specialists, I could see that everything was in such a dilapidated state that attempting to clean anything was a task no one could accomplish alone.

The sword-fighting area was completely overgrown. Some flowers have even dug through the hard soil and bloomed on the ground, which has seen more blood than most battlefields.

Saddest of all is the location for target training, where easy-to-build golems once simulated combat. The place is completely covered, but the roof had long since collapsed, so the weather had made things difficult for the poor golems. They look in bad shape, and their power cores seem empty for a long time. This is truly unfortunate, as these golems were built to grow with each fighter who uses them for training, helping them improve their skills.

My heart aches as I see all this, for this was once one of the few prides my family still has outside of our planet and empire, which is why it hurts me so much to see it in such chaos. With turbulent feelings, I just let myself fall to the ground into the soft, warm grass. As I lie there, I play with the grass and even pick a few of the colorful flowers.

After waiting a few minutes, I start making some flower crowns to pass the time. I even ignore the first steps that get closer and closer to where I lie peacefully in the grass.

I know those arrogant snobs will whine when they see the dilapidated state of the place, with broken pillars, massive stones lying all over the ground, and the literally impossible to fight upon uneven ground.

And as if I was waiting for the cue, not too far away, I could hear the first few people complaining about not being dressed for a trip into the supposed "wilderness."

Their ignorance annoys me to no end. Why were they so problematic about things like this? For my own good, I ignore them and continue to relax on the green floor. A few flower crowns sit on my chest.

I can once again feel disapproving looks on me. For some reason, they start to get to me in ways they've never done before, perhaps because it feels more disrespectful since they're doing it on grounds built by my ancestors. An area that only listens to me.

Out of nowhere, a hand suddenly appears in my field of vision. The skin structure is flawless except for a scar that is almost invisible at this point. But my anger, simmering deep within me, wouldn't let me take his hand. So I jumped back to my feet without help, the flower crowns hanging on my left hand.

I didn't even look back to see how Cory reacted to my simple but effective refusal to take his hand. As in ancient traditions, if a King or his Heir does not accept the helping hand of one of his knights, he is in disgrace or on the way there.

I leisurely walk to the stands, carefully setting down the freshly made flower wreaths before I finally turn around and face the few hundred people intently staring at me.

The few teachers who came with the classes look down on me as much as the students. What in the name of the red darkness is wrong with these people?

I had to close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing to calm myself down because their vile behavior is starting to get on my nerves. I wonder how far their faces will fall when they find out I never did anything wrong. Just the idea puts another smile on my face. It quickly turns into a sinister grin that seems to unnerve the others.

“Then can we get started?”

The teachers look at each other. Except that Saladin steps forward as the others seem unwilling to test me. With a crack of his staff on the ground, which he magically hardened, he says, "We chose Artheon to-"

“No,” I say without hesitation. "I want to fight the three idiots who 'captured' me. We'll see how far they get when I have a weapon, too." My sinister smile only grew, bringing chills to most that I could see their face sweating profusely.

Even Saladin seems unsettled by my authoritative manner of speaking. I don't even know where it came from. Maybe because I don't feel like I belong to any of their factions and therefore view the older teachers as mere human beings and not as authority figures? Or maybe even their complete disregard for my person? Who knows?

Anyway, I turn away from them and stare in the direction of the three idiots.

“You first!” I point directly at the purple-haired guy.

He steps forward, teeth clenched, a fierce anger in his eyes so blazing it makes me want to fight him even more. As he approached, the others backed away, led by their teachers. The girls were taken to the dilapidated stands. Most of them look disgusted at the dirty or broken stones, which makes my anger flare up again.

“Look here!” The bold guy suddenly called out to me. Two green daggers in his hands.

“That’s a joke, right?” I ask quietly, looking him up and down. My eagerness to fight him died when I saw his weapons. His footing is good, but I could already see that the uneven ground would be problematic for him. “Do you need more stable ground?” I ask him directly, my left eyebrow raised questioningly.

He scoffs and is ready to say something, but then he loses his balance as he tries to change his position just a little.

I roll my eyes. The only thing I want is to watch him eat dirt, but I also want no one to be able to say it was unfair when I wipe the floor with his stupid face. So, instead of reaching for the weapon Cory brought, which he is holding out to me, I close my eyes. The people actively watching start chatting quickly, talking about me again, and nothing flattering.

But everyone's eyes immediately widened when I opened mine again. Pure magic flows through my veins and shows itself in the intense brown glow of my eyes. I could feel the entire training ground buried under soil and plants. As I feel everything up and down to ensure I have everything under my control, the whole place suddenly shook under the power of my magic. Fear coursed through everyone who saw the extent of my abilities.

“Stay still!” I shout to my first opponent. He's shaking more than the others, obviously scared out of his mind.

As I expected, he didn't stop but tries to escape the violent quake. I didn't let him out of my sight. Even when he finally freezes, as it becomes clear to him that I'm peeling away the dirt from the cut stone underneath and don't want to attack him.

His eyes widen in shock. Suddenly, tons of dirt literally pour into the air. Magic and dirt swirl around us. Soon, a massive shadow hangs over our heads as the small arena beneath us is clean again. A rectangular flat surface appears: the stones are pure white marble, from my home world, as this stone is almost indestructible.

Usually, this stone is a single slab forming a ground. But here, they have been cut into large individual bricks. There is a staircase with three steps around the edges. It makes it appear like a small fighting pit.

The only dirt left is under my opponent's feet and under my own. Since he's still frozen solid, I take the first step. As soon as I left the dirt, it swung up and crashed into the other flying dirt.

Even after this spectacle, the other didn't move, even though he had seen what he had to do. So that the last bit of dirt can finally leave this field that once produced some of the best fighters in the magic and specialist fields.

It got so annoying that I was almost ready to walk up to the guy and knock him off the little platform he is standing on, only for him to suddenly step off the platform himself as I only have taken one step toward him. As soon as he did that, the dirt makes its way up.

When all the dirt was finally together, I let the lump fly to the side, to a spot on the opposite side of the benches where I have already placed two pieces of columns that once stood proudly and held up the roof of an outbuilding. I use this to keep the dirt separate from the rest of the place, as I don't want any more work to be done in the future.

"He didn't even use a spell," one of the teachers muttered. One I hadn't seen before. A peculiar man with pointy ears and a terrible fashion sense. His eyes were curious, not a hint of contempt on his face.

And here I was, always thinking elves were the arrogant ones. How foolish of me.

His little comment even makes me blush. It was hard training that I had to go through to do that. My magic teacher, a two-star grandmaster in the field of earth magic, an eccentric, strict man, but he taught me well. After I did it, he confessed to being jealous because it had taken him almost a hundred years to learn it, while I did it within four years.

Back then, I still had to think about the magic, the effect, and the spell. These days, I only need to know what I want to do.

The only problem is that the magic used for this is not fairy magic but regular magic, in which I'm far more competent than I could ever dream to be at my inherited fairy magic.

However, the situation is different with fairy magic, as this form of magic is bound within one's self and cannot be strengthened by the surrounding magic. And even among fairies, there are differences. Ordinary fairies can only use their own magic, but guardian fairies can draw on their planet's magic.

While other fairies, such as protectors or healers, have powerful magic in their respective areas, guardian fairies are exceptionally powerful, so much so that they defy logic and push the boundaries of nature itself.

While a healer fairy can defeat disease, guardian fairies can stop global disasters.

“Thanks,” I murmur quietly, rather embarrassed by the compliment.

But the teacher stares absentmindedly into space, seemingly far away in his thoughts.

Taken aback by this, I turn my attention to the purple-haired guy, still shaking slightly.

“Do you need a moment, Purple?” I ask. “If so, Blondie can take your place in the first fight,” I continue to tease him.

The guy stares at me with his violet eyes, glowing at me in silent anger. His teeth gritted, strengthening the feeling of his rage. If he had been any other guy, I might have been softer. But I'm just worried about whether I can stop myself from killing him.

“I knew you are still afraid of me,” he says suddenly. His angrily clenched teeth have turned into a wide grin.

Suddenly, the guy takes out the two small pieces of metal. I didn't even notice that he put them away. Still, I feel the need to make fun of him. But when I open my mouth, out of those two pieces of metal come out the two green blades I saw before. My desire to make fun of him only increased. He has such a big mouth and yet such small weapons.

Suddenly, I could see a similar weapon. An older man, probably a teacher with a face of five hundred years of rain, extends his hand to me. For a second, I look over at Corey. Silently, I wonder if he gave the man the weapon, but he only stares at me blankly. The moment I take it from him, the man is already walking away. I look at it from all sides, but I couldn't figure out how to use it. So I tap on anything that seems strange, but nothing happens.

The teacher quickly returns, turns the metal over, and activates it. A yellow blade comes out that is the size of a long sword. It feels strange in my hand, too light.

“Ready!” the same man suddenly shouts, startling me.

His words take me out of my thoughts. I move the sword in front of me. Just from this small movement, I can tell that the sword is too light for me. But I still get into position. My eyes fixed on my opponent the whole time. Even from a distance, I could see that while his stance is pretty shaky, he still has significant potential to master his weapons. It's a shame he obviously never received any real training outside of the academy. Although, a year can only do so much.

“And go!“

[Masterlist]

#x male reader #male reader #winx club #winx saga #winx saga x male reader #brandon x male reader #brandon #sky x male reader #sky #riven #riven x male reader #winx club x male reader #series #fairy prince

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gayassbish · 6 months

Text

WINTER HIKING WITH AMBER! MODERN AU

A/N: This is the kickstarter for my CHRISTMAS event! Find it here! | 1.2k Words

Genre: Fluff! Slight Crack

Reader: Gender Neutral

AMBER is very serious about keeping an active lifestyle and is even more serious about her health. She wants to live to 100 and still be able to jump around like she does now. But she is always contradicting her longevity! She constantly puts her life in danger by eating extremely spicy hot buffalo wings that she knows she can’t handle and she annually sky dives from planes for fun. Not that you don’t try to stop her crazy antics though.

You are constantly reminding Amber how chasing after an adrenaline rush can cause her to be 6 ft under sooner than she thinks, but in turn, Amber always tells you that life is too short to be boring. Each time she says that you can’t help but think how your life is too short to be a widow before you even get married.

But alas nothing separated Amber from adrenaline: not the bleak season, not freezing temperatures, nor you ;).

And this winter when Amber says she wants to go hiking on the mini mountain a few hours from your area with you, your immediate reaction is that your lovely girlfriend wants to murder you in the middle of the woods </3.

Despite your protests, you can’t deny her in the end. After all what if something happens to Amber when she’s alone out in the forest? So if you can’t convince her not to go… then you have to go :’).

As payback though, you didn’t make the journey easy for her. You made her do the folding, the packing, the driving, and she basically still had to drag your ass out to hike the nearby mini mount. with her. Why did you date someone so adventurous? You don’t know, and you’re cursing yourself for loving someone so energetic.

The moment Amber parks the car and you exit from the comfort of the built-in heater of the vehicle, you feel a shiver down your spine.

You’re faced with the hiking trail in-front of that leads up and up with a mixture of leaf-barren trees and branches still adorning their reddish-yellow ones. Amber has told you about hows she hiked this mountain a lot with her grandpa as a kid. You can’t help but imagine a little Amber running around the woods and playing hide and seek with her old peepaw behind trees. Though the thought warms your heart, the freezing breeze calls you back to reality.

“Babe, come get your bag and let’s go change.” Amber shouts from the back of the car, shutting the trunk. She hands you your bag and leads you to the changing stalls placed in the back of the parking lot.

Amber changes quickly into thick sun glasses, a purple rain proof jacket and tights… But you, on the other hand, “Wow… look at you.” Once outside the changing stall, Amber has the nerve to laugh at you when she sees how you look like an inflated balloon. It’s not a big deal though, you’re only wearing multiple sweat pants and jackets. But for some reason Amber just has to say something. “Gosh, just how many layers are you wearing?” Amber leans against the door and crosses her arms over her chest, wearing a huge idiotic smile.

“Oh my god, you know how I get cold!” You send her a glare, not willing to put up with her cheery attitude in this kind of weather. “Let’s just get this over with already.” You huff aggravated and walk past her to the trail.

Amber, after secretly taking photos of how silly and cute you look, quickly catches up to you and just doesn’t take off that stupid smile off her face. Like what’s there to even smile about? Your pain? Your misery? Smh. “Can you even walk right in all that?” She jests, still making fun of you. She pokes a finger through your arm to try and see if she can feel you.

You slap her hand away. You give her another of your signature glares to compliment her goofy ass smile. “Last to the top buys dinner.” And run past her as quick as your (now stubby and little) legs can.

Amber starts laughing her ass off before trailing behind you.

The rest of the hike consists of stopping here and there to take selfies, posing as you meet the fellow hikers that offer to take photos, water breaks, and admiring the view… but as you hike further up hill and the wind gets harsher and the air gets cooler… it becomes more of a challenge to continue rather than your average Sunday morning hike.

So before you can even make it to the halfway point of the hike, you’re already spent.

“Oh come on babe, we’re almost there!” Amber looks back towards your teeth chattering self that’s about 15 feet behind her. She runs back down to you and grabs your hand. “At this rate you’re gonna lose.” She sings in a light jokey tone, but you’ve already long forgotten about this bet.

When Amber takes your hand, she starts walking, planning to drag you to the tippy top, but you don’t budge.

Amber looks back at you with an eyebrow raised, confused. “Amber..,” You watch her confused face turn into one of worry at the shaky tone of your voice. “I don’t think I can do it.” You speak brokenly with your teeth chattering and look at her with your runny nose. Sniffling and frowning at her and it breaks Ambers heart. You feel bad since she drove far to take you here, but you really can’t go another step.

Amber, however, doesn’t even think of the drive (or the effort to drag you outside the house). She’s just worried that maybe she did push you too far this time. “Are you certain?” Amber hunches over a little to be at eye level with you since she’s standing on the slanted mountain plain, higher than you. When you nod at her she brings you into a hug. “Okay! Here’s what’s going to happen.” You break the hug to look at her pearly whites. Rather than this smile being mildly infuriating, you find her cherry grin very comforting. “We’re going to go back down and I’ll take you to the nearest IHOP. You can get the sticky honey roast hot coco you like and it’ll be my treat!”

Amber watches your face light up from the promise of a chocolate served drink and you give her a kiss on the cheek. “Ah thank you! You know just what will cheer me up!” And Amber raises a hand to feel where you kissed since your lips were very cold.

“Your lips are freezing.” Amber looks at you and holds your hand again, she starts walking back down-hill, this time with you actually moving.

“You can try to warm them then.” You swing your arms with hers, obviously very happy at your return.

“Did you want to stop hiking to make out with me or because you’re actually cold and tired?” Amber questions your intentions as she looks at you, barely able to hold her smile back.

“Fine… no kisses for you.” You huff and run past her and you can hear her laughter as she trails behind you. She eventually catches up to you and Amber steals a quick peck from you! You scream some nonsense that she’s being a cheater but before you can accuse her anymore she gives you another peck. She steals a lot more from you and you both end up laughing your asses off as y’all head back to her car. You wonder if maybe your next adventure will be filled with less kisses and actually more… well, adventure.

A/N: GUYS Head Canon for Amber as a cop, but A GOOD ONE that wants to actually change the broken system from the inside… a lot like Judy from Zootopia. One, they’re both (gullible) self-righteous bunnys. And two, they’re literately the same “person” just in different fonts I swear.

#genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin women x reader #genshin women #genshin x reader #genshin amber #amber x reader #genshin impact #genshin wlw #christmas event

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rogerswifesblog-updates · 1 year

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Chapter 4 - it’s all about the…

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Previous chapter

A/N: yeah I know it’s late…I’m sorry! I’m just so so busy with uni and Easter (which reminds me; happy Easter!!). I’m tired af but I just couldn’t sleep another night without posting this! I feel awful for no reason, here some flowers as an apology😬💐 love ya, enjoy! And thank you @jamneuromain for some of the ideas, especially about Brock 👀❤️

Pairing: stripper!Steve Rogers x Sugar!Mommy reader

Chapter summary: You go out with steve to buy him some new clothes. The day is all about giving and receiving…

Warnings: hand job, semi public, oral f receiving, subby Steve, needy Steve, mommy kink, a hit of mommy issues,

18+

A few days later a chilly breeze reminded you of Steve’s thin jacket that he was probably still wearing, too thin, too cold. Not even close to what he was supposed to wear in such weather. You felt bad for not having bought him a jacket sooner, especially since you were cuddling in your own fuzzy coat, always warm and soft hugging your body.

Sitting in your office you couldn’t stop thinking about this issue.

Your Babyboy needed a high quality jacket. Something that would keep him warm and be comfortable, not just a thin worn out coat. You didn’t want him to freeze or get sick. It would probably break your heart to see him sick while you could’ve prevented it a bit.

Were you thinking ahead? Again? But it’s just the little voice in your head that told you to take care of him, make sure he’s fed, comfortable and appropriately dressed.

You were definitely caring a bit too much for just knowing him less than a week, but Steve was really a sweetheart. He had probably already stolen a part of your own heart.

But maybe you should just casually mention wanting to go shopping? Maybe asking if he wanted to accompany you?

You’ve already made up your mind. He’s coming with you. And he’s getting a damn warm jacket.

Taking out your phone you found Steves contact, typing a text. > Hello, Steve. Are you free today? We could go shopping, maybe grab some food on our way home and I’d drop you off later at your place. Tell me when I could pick you up. < Reading over the message one more time you added a little heart emoji, before sending. It was immediately delivered and seen only a few seconds after. You hadn’t had time to even put your phone away, before a reply came.

> hi CTN have classes. BRB < You squinted your eyes at the reply for a moment, not being sure if these weren’t some typos-but no, thinking it through you assumed it meant ‘can’t talk now’ and ‘be right back’. That’s the only thing that would make sense. Jesus, this kid.

You decided to reply anyway. >Just let me know. I can pick you up whenever you’re free.< With that you put your phone aside, rereading the documents you had filled out before texting Steve. Just when you sighed them and put them in a binder for later to go over during one of the upcoming business meetings, your screen lit up.

> iirc my classes end in 40 but iu2u when youd pick me up just lmk <

You stared at the message for a solid three minutes before huffing and throwing your phone in your purse. How could a person shorten a sentence so much that you couldn’t understand it? The only thing you assumed was his classes ended in 40 minutes. Hopefully.

After closing your office you walked to your assistants desk, telling her you wouldn’t be back today. For a moment you considered asking her about the text message, if she could translate it into your old school language.

God, you thought it would be easy to be with someone younger, but…whatever.

Sitting in your car you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at the last message one more time.

IIRC... I really care? No, that can’t be right, there are two i’s

My classes end in 40…minutes, right?

but iu2u…I used to you? This also doesn’t make any sense. Why the hell is there a number in it?

When you'd pick me up just…lmk…Love me kiss me?? Huh. So should you kiss him? Or what does he mean?

Only when you look in your rearview mirror do you notice the grimace on your face, the squinted eyes and pouty lips. Jesus. All this over one text message. Now you feel even older than you actually are.

After putting your phone and purse away you started the car. Not needing your GPS since you knew where Steve’s university was, you turned on some music before finally leaving the parking lot, quietly humming to yourself.

Within twenty minutes you arrived at Steve’s university, to be exact in front of the art building. Opening your car door you turned down the volume of the music, but not fully down. It was quite chilly and windy so you threw your fur coat over your shoulders, leaning against your car.

Steve's class should end in ten minutes so you decided to let him know you were already waiting. > I parked at your art building.<

It didn’t surprise you when the replay came within seconds. > rnbbbb? <

“What the fuck does this mean”, you whispered to yourself having no idea what Steve meant. Not even a hint. Sighing, you shook your head. Not wanting to look like a total moron by asking him what he meant you took a picture of your view, to show him where you waited. > I’m here <

While waiting for Steve’s classes to come to an end the sun slowly started shining, the wind stopping. It started to get warmer immediately, making you feel too warm in your coat, so you quickly took it off, throwing it over your arm, leaving you in your black suit, the Gucci belt shimmering in the bright light.

Since it would take a few more minutes till Steve’s classes come to an end you grabbed yourself a cigarette, lightening it and bringing it to your lips. The red lipstick staining the stumble, while you breathe out the smoke.

Your phone vibrated again, four times. This many messages could mean business so you quickly took your phone out-only to see all four were from Steve. A small smile crept onto your lips while you opened his chat, surprisingly seeing a picture of yourself, leaning against the car and smoking.

> picture <

> I see you! HOT! <

> omw <

> bbbbb <

You pulled your eyebrows together, a quiet chuckle escaped your lips, still not understanding half of the things he meant-well, omw you knew was on my way. Wanda used it sometimes, too, being the youngest in your friend gr- “hello gorgeous”, interrupted you a voice. A voice you didn’t know.

With raised eyebrows you lifted your gaze, looking into the gray eyes of a stranger with a predatory grin. “Hello, and you are?” You smiled as friendly as possible at the man, who was in your opinion standing a bit too close to your personal space.

“I’m Brock and you seemed like you needed some company, so I’m here to help you out, gorgeous.” A scoff escaped your lips. “Please, leave me alone, I’m not interested in you nor your company.” You didn’t like men who behaved like they could have everyone. Especially you. His grin made you actually feel the opposite, making you slowly back a bit away from him. “Thanks, I’m just waiting for someone”, with that you looked to the doors-just then did Steve leave the art building. Finally

Your lips curved upwards. “There’s my boy. You can go now, Brock.” He wanted to say something more but you turned away from him, instead awaiting for Steve to come.

Behind you Brock snorted when Steve stopped in front of you, a bashful smile on his face. “Hi”, he mumbled leaning a bit down when he noticed you wanted to kiss his cheek-which you did, leaving a red lipstick stain behind. “Whops, sorry, Stevie, now everyone can see who you belong to”, you grinned; licking your thumb before trying to wipe away the red color from his skin. Of course this made him blush immediately.

There was another unfriendly reaction behind you, an unpleasant groan. “Really? Steve? That’s who you’re spending your time with? Come on, that doesn’t make sense. You can do better-or maybe he’s just some waiter boy huh? Earning a couple more bucks, because there’s no other reason such a gorgeous woman would be with a poor, sick nerd that-“ “oh for fucks sake aren’t you bored of standing here and watch us?” You hissed, throwing your fur in the back of your car while nodding for Steve to get in the car, before turning around to address Brock again.

“Maybe you are wondering how he lands with a rich af girlfriend, but I'm not putting up with your shit because he's the one having a relationship between the two of you. In fact, he's a million times better person than you are, you arrogant misogynist prick." With that you got in the car yourself, wanting to drive away. Your gaze once again falling to the young man that had bothered you-but then you looked back at Steve, who was visibly uncomfortable and upset.

Sighing you took his hand. “Don’t think about him. I only met him ten minutes ago and can tell he’s a total idiot. You’re not what he-“ “fucking Gold digger!” You heard Brock's voice, making your grip on the wheel tighten-thank god you weren’t driving or you’d have hit the brakes till they’d squeak.

“I won’t let him do that to you”, you hissed under your breath, leaving the car, loudly throwing the door shut. Brock was already standing with his friends, talking shit about Steve that you could hear from your car.

So you decided to teach him a lesson.

Nobody messed with your boy.

“Hey Brock!”, you called out, noticing how a grin spread onto his lips while he turned around, already saying something. “Gorgeous, I’m glad you changed y-“, before he could finish the sentence your fist met his jaw so hard he stumbled back into one of his friends. All of them left shocked and speechless, while you smiled at the group one last time before walking back to your car. Behind your back you could hear some mutters that made you grin even more.

When you finally sat back behind the wheel, Steve was also shocked. His beautiful blues wide, at the same time feeling how his heart was thudding wildly. “Now where were we? Oh right, don’t listen to Brock, he’s not worth it,” while you tried to cheer Steve up he seemed to get even more upset.

“He may be not worth it but…he’s not wrong. I’m poor and sick and a total nerd, while you’re this amazing woman that deserves to be with a real man,” he looked out of the window, ignoring your hand when you tried to take his. “Steve, why do you think that? Money is not important-that’s why we have our agreement and…you’re not sick, right? Do I need to know something? If you need medicine or anything, I’ll get it for you. You just need to tell me.”

There was a sigh next to you and Steve carefully took your hand. “Just look at me”, you did just that, your gaze falling over Steve for a second, but the only thing you noticed was his hurt puppy dog eyes. “What do you mean, Stevie?”, you chuckled, having a hard time understanding what he meant.

“Take a closer look-“ “Steve, if you want me to take a closer look we might end up in a tree, you have to tell me,” there was another loud sigh.

“Look at my ear,” his voice was quiet, even sounding a bit insecure. That’s when you had to stop at a red light, making it way easier for you to finally take a look at him. He wasn’t looking at you, completely avoiding your gaze.

Only after a few seconds did you notice what he was talking about, or, well, because he pointed it out. “Stevie…how have I not noticed it before?”

Steve had a hearing aid.

It wasn’t even much noticeable, just a bit of light blue around his ear.

“And Brock bullies you about that? What a dick. You shouldn’t feel self conscious about that. You’re still perfect-maybe even more than before”, you said softly, leaning over to him and kissing the shell of his ear, noticing how he blushed. His whole chest swelled up, his throat felt a bit tighter, while butterflies erupted in his stomach. His whole body.

Which he quickly tried to ignore.

Instead he cleared his throat. “So you don’t mind it? There’s more stuff. I also have asthma-and I-“ Softly chuckling you took Steve hand again, while pulling over. You hated how he was trying to talk himself down. Steve was an amazing person, with an incredible soul and heart.

His gaze was glued to your hand that was holding his, your thumb stroking the back of his hand, his skin tingling under your touch. “None of that, Stevie. I really like you the way you are-but I don’t like it when you talk yourself down, okay? You’re amazing-and so much better than this Bully Brock. I’d rather spend my whole life with you than a day with Brock.”

A that you both were shocked.

But the composed person you were, you tried to ignore the blush creeping up into your cheeks.

“Well, I-I wanted to ask you about something you texted me-or…a few things even”, you chuckled, probably making yourself even more nervous than before. Somehow you felt like you walked right in a dead end with all that, which Steve partly noticed too, so he grabbed your phone. “Could you enter the password so I-” “I don’t have one, don’t worry.”

You could feel the side eye Steve was giving you.

You could feel it burn a hole in your skull.

“What? Don’t look at me like that. I forget my passwords all the time.” Steve still wasn’t convinced with your explanation, but didn’t say anything. Instead he opened your chat watching over the messages he sent you. “So? What did you wanna know?”

Surprisingly you felt yourself blush again. Which hadn’t happened often…before meeting Steve.

“Could you…could you explain the abbreviations to me? I know a few-I think-but not all of them”, at this point you felt your whole head burning. The last time you were this nervous was…maybe in highschool. Which also was quite a while ago. You really didn’t want to get deeper into it.

Since you couldn’t remember the shortened messages Steve had sent you before you leaned a bit over to him. “Oh right, there were a few. iirc, iu2u, lmk…? Like…I really don’t know what this means. Lmk? Love me, kiss? If you want me to kiss you just-“ Steve’s laugh interrupted you, the blush on your face deepening immediately.

When he noticed you were serious he promptly shut his mouth. “I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to laugh, I’m sorry. I thought you were joking…”, he mumbled, averting his gaze. “Okay, so, iirc means ‘if I remember correctly”, there was a pause, so you looked up at him but he didn’t say more.

“So do you remember or not?”

And that’s when Steve realized it’d be a long, long time till he explains everything.

He was right.

It took him twenty minutes to finally explain everything and till you two finally stepped out of the car, your hand immediately wrapping around his bicep. “Just one more question, you didn’t explain what the whole ‘bbbb’s mean? That I Waldo couldn’t figure out” “oh, no, that’s nothing just typos, my screen broke and now it sometimes…does this”, Steve laughed quietly, the blush from before reappearing.

He definitely needed a new phone. You’ve seen his phone before, but you hadn’t expected it to be that bad.

“Would you mind?”, you smiled at him, giving him your purse that he took without hesitation. There was even a little happy smile on his lips, feeling helpful.

You walked into the shopping mall, your heels clicking coudly against the tiles. Many heads turn to watch you, eager to see the source of the clinking.

And Steve? Steve didn’t like all the attention.

The looks of other people’s faces first interested, then thoughtful and after a second judging. Him. They were all looking at him. They were all judging him. His simple collage hoodie, while you were wearing a whole elegant suit. The Louboutin heels loud and clear for everyone to hear, to see. To notice.

“Don’t do that”, Steve’s head turned so quickly you feared he might hurt himself. “What? I’m not doing anything?” Softly chuckling, you shook your head squeezing his biceps a big harder to comfort him. “I can feel you thinking. Ignore it. The thoughts, the people. They’ll always look. It’s what people do”, you tried to reassure him, succeeding only partly. He was still tense, but his lips twitched to a smile.

For a moment you watched as he watched his bottom lip, his cheeks covered by a soft pink blush. “Can we get some food first, tho? I haven’t eaten anything today and-“ “you what?? But it’s three pm?! You must be starving, baby. Let’s get you something to eat first”, with that you grabbed him a bit tighter, pulling him with you.

Half an hour later Steve was fed, happily still holding your purse while the two of you walked into a clothing shop. A very, very expensive shop. At least compared to the clothes he’d usually buy-mostly stuff on sale or second hand. And now he was in a shop surrounded by premium brands he didn’t even know how to pronounce.

You didn’t even look at the prices while showing him all the clothes he should try on. “I’ve noticed you like blue, right? Would you mind trying on some suits? I’d love to see your beautiful body in a real suit, maybe a blue one…or gray…or..well, we’d see which one would suit you best”, while talking you couldn’t stop yourself from brushing your hand along his muscular chest. To no one's surprise his face was covered by red spots, again.

“You’re so cute”, you whispered, pulling him a bit closer. His smile widening to a grin, his hands automatically falling into your waist.

He’d love to kiss you.

At the thought his chest tingled a bit. A bashful chuckle escaped his lips, while his grip on you tightened.

It’s weird how much happier he felt with you. How much more desirable he felt because of you. He didn’t even know you a lot, having only spent a bit time with you and yet he felt amazing with you. Like he mattered…like…you really liked him.

But maybe that’s how it's supposed to be. Nothing was real, it just was supposed to feel and look like it’s real. Or not? Was it real? Slowly he got confused, so he decided to push these thoughts away. It was all about money, he shouldn’t be seeing too much into it.

“Now go try these on…and whatever else you’d want to, there’s no price limit if you’re worried about that. It’s on me”, you gave him the clothes, continuing to look for something for yourself, maybe a new blouse or skirt.

Maybe some new heels…

Or a coat? Maybe- “could you please come with me? I…want you to help me…decide and just tell me what looks good”, Steve seemed nervous, maybe even a bit uncomfortable with the attention he was getting from some shop assistants that always checked if he needed any help-which he denied.

“Sure, sweetheart. Let me get something for myself then”, after finding a few pieces for yourself you followed Steve to the changing rooms-hust when he wanted to walk into one of them you grabbed his arm. “The last one is bigger.” Without further explanation you pulled him into the last one, immediately hanging your clothes up.

Steve looked a bit around, his gaze falling to your hands when you started taking off your suit jacket and slowly opening the button down. He didn’t even notice the smirk on your lips, while you casually let the blouse slide from your shoulders, his gaze still glued to your body, now to your bra covered breasts. A very pretty bra, if he had to be honest, black with lace, perfectly pushing your breasts up, making them look nicely. Very, very nicely…the image of your naked breasts popped up in his head, reminding him of the incident a few days ago.

Then your pants dropped to the floor and you stepped out of them, with this coming a step closer to him. The matching slip nicely hugging your hips, the hip dips making him wanna grasp your body even more. You were so beautiful. And so, so sexy.

Without saying a word you turned around and bent down to pick up your clothes, his breath stopping for a second. Your round ass on display. So close he could touch you if he’d reach out. Your legs look incredibly long, especially with the heels. The heels with the red bottoms.

Fuck.

Now he had a little problem.

Or a big one.

Whatever.

Definitely a visibile one.

And he knew you’d notice it, too, as soon as you’d look back at him.

What he didn’t know is, you did all of it on purpose, knowing exactly how your body, clad in only underwear, would affect him. You took a skirt, sliding it on then finally turning around to watch Steve’s reactions.

Just as expected his head was red, the blush creeping up his chest to the very tips of his ears. His hands folded before his crotch, making you raise your eyebrows. “You’re hiding something from me, Stevie?”, you whispered teasingly, slowly pushing his hands away, your palm pressing against his hard cock. A soft gasp escaped his lips.

“S-sorry I-“ “you got a bit excited, hm? Was it because of my breasts? Or my ass? Did you imagine how it’d be to grab my body? Pressed against you, while you’d fuck me?”, you whispered against his neck, leaving some kisses behind. His pants felt tight around his crotch, especially with you palming him with every word, “come on, baby, tell me what you’re thinking about.” A quiet whine escaped his lips while he buried his face against your neatly made hair.

“Thought about-about holding your hips-squeezing-feeling you close”, he mumbled, pushing into your palm, while you slowly opened his pants, your hand stroking over his boxershorts, grabbing his thick shaft tightly. “My naughty boy getting all worked up in a changing room. My filthy babyboy. Want me to make you cum? Are you this needy? Coming while being in public? In a changing room? Aren’t you scared of getting caught?”, you felt how his dick twitched at that, leaking more precum into his underwear, soft moans leaving his mouth.

You kissed underneath his ear, sucking gently at his skin, feeling Steve tense against you. His face pressed even harder into your neck, the moans turning to breathless gasps, while he slowly filled his boxershorts with cum.

A chuckle escaped you, while you slowly pulled out your hand from his pants. “Sweet”, you mumbled watching him cover his crotch, the redness in his face darkening. He looked down at his hands, before back at you. “I just came.” “I know.” The smirk on your lips reappeared and you quickly changed into the clothes you’d worn before, while Steve seemed frozen in place.

“Stevie, don’t worry. I’ll get you something to change into and it’ll be fine. Wait a minute, I’ll get you some underwear…just…wait for me. Don’t make a mess while I’m gone”, you added teasingly, watching as the man whined quietly, a bit embarrassed.

Or a lot.

Giving him a last kiss you left him to find some underwear, already paying for it and bringing it to him. After he changed and tried a few other things on, especially pants which he needed to wear now, because the other pants were…a mess.

After leaving the shop you looked once again back at Steve, who was carrying four to the brim filled clothing bags and your purse, a smile creeping on his lips when he noticed your gaze. “Need any help, baby?” “No, no I’m good”, he immediately refused to give you any bags, wanting to carry it all by himself. Laughing you shook your head at him, but finally let him have it his way.

“I need to do some errands, it’d take half an hour, max. In the meantime you could maybe…go order something? And we could go home then-unless you want me to drive you to your place?” He thought about it for a minute, before shaking his head. “I’d like to stay with you tonight.”

You shouldn’t feel as happy as you did.

After deciding where Steve could go order something to eat, you went back to the clothing store, finding a jacket Steve had not so subtly looked at, a very simple one but very thick, perfect for winter and cold evenings.

You bought something else, too, what you knew he’d be very happy about.

It wasn’t too hard to find Steve with all the bags hanging from his arms, looking a bit funny even. And probably a bit overwhelmed.

“Let me take the food, okay? I don’t want your arms to lose circulation from all the bags”, you grinned, taking the food from his hands, pecking his cheek. Leaving a soft red lipstick stain behind. You decided to leave it.

Your place wasn’t far away so it only took you twenty minutes to arrive. “Bring your stuff to your room and I’ll get the plates ready”, you said while taking out the food and bringing it to the couch so you could watch a movie together.

He turned around to look at you with all the bags in his hands. A grin on his lips while he came a bit closer to you, pecking your cheek. “Thanks, my sugar mommy. Can't imagine having a better mommy”, he definitely meant it kicking my, but seeing you blush and gasp softly made him pretty curious. But maybe he just imagined it.

You only smiled at him lightly, nodding before averting your gaze. Your smile turning goofy as soon as he walked out of the door.

While Steve was gone you took the jacket out and laid it out on the couch, already imagining how pretty Steve would look in the clothes you bought him.

His heavy steps echoed through the corridor and a few seconds later he was standing next to, looking at the jacket in surprise. “I-when did you get that?”, he asked quietly, lifting the jacket, a smile immediately appearing on his face.

“I may have lied about the few errands…just wanted to get you something nice-“ “but you bought all the clothes-” “but you chose it. I wanted to buy you something from me”, you smiled at the blond man pushing him down to sit on the couch. He dropped willingly, the jacket still clutched to his chest.

You took the jacket to put it aside. “I have one more thing”, you grinned, taking the bag again and pulling a little box out. Steve gasped loudly, his hand grabbing onto your thigh. When you looked back at him he seemed shocked, his mouth agape.

“You-you did not?”, he whispered letting you put the phone box into his palms. A soft laugh escaped your lips, while you leaned back, watching him fondly when he opened the box, slightly speechless. “I love having a sugar mommy”, his whisper made you laugh quietly but your chest immediately felt warmer, a bit tingling. You stayed quiet, not trusting your own voice.

His eyes had a little glimmer in them, a soft expression on his face while he slowly took the phone out, looking over the screen and back, before putting it once again away. “Thank you so much, I-…I really don’t know what to say…just…” “it’s why we’re having this, baby. Besides, I have a party coming up. Stark organizes a charity event so… let’s say…it’s a little gift for you joining me”, you smiled at him, winking.

Steve giggled quietly and shook his head lightly, leaving the box on the glass table. “I’d love to come with you. The phone is incredible-I’d never be able to afford it myself-but I’d have joined you anyway, you know? It’s actually not so bad…I thought it’d be weird but I really enjoy spending time with you”, Steve grinned, scooching a bit closer to you, his hand not leaving your thigh. Maybe sliding a bit higher.

“I want to thank you for this nice gift-“ “but I told you it’s for you joi-“ “I’ll probably need a suit anyway so…you’d need to buy it too…let me thank you properly, once in a while,” he whispered into your ear. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d gotten until his lips trailed down your throat. That’s also when you noticed holding onto Steve’s blond hair. “But Stevie…the food…” “is it really that important? Do you really want me to stop? I want to thank my sugar mommy”, the last word made your grip in his hair tighten and he definitely noticed that.

Steve slowly kissed along your neck before uncrossing your legs and pushing them open, slowly dropping to his knees between. You couldn’t stop yourself from spreading them a bit further, your heart already thudding uncontrollably. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem to reheat it later…”

He helped you out of your pants as quickly as possible, admiring the pretty underwear he had seen before. You had no idea how many times Steve had seen women in underwear before but if he looked at all of them like that you definitely felt some kind of jealousy. No man had ever looked at you like that, his soft lips gently kissing your thighs, not really doing anything else.

Slowly kissing up to your core, Steve felt his own dick harden, but he decided to ignore it for now. All that mattered was to make you feel good-and he hoped he’d do it right.

His lips finally found your slip, slowly kissing your dressed pussy, his tongue licking over the material teasingly, curious. A quiet moan rumbled in your throat while you pulled his head a bit closer.

“Fuck Stevie-“, you moaned when he pushed the slip aside and licked over your slit, his nose nudging your clit unintentionally. You tried to push down your slip but before it could go any down Steve grabbed the material and yanked it from your body, ripping the material apart.

This made you gasp even louder, even a bit surprised. You had no time to say anything, Steve’s tongue immediately entering your hole licking up the wetness. His arms wrap around your thighs, holding you against his mouth as he moans against your core, his arms tightening.

You moved your hips against his lips, grinding against his face. He was all enthusiasm, lacking the finesse of an experienced man but his eagerness made up for it, especially when he started sucking on your clit. When you felt your high coming closer two of Steve’s fingers pushed in your hole, feeling how your walls throbbed around his digits. A quiet curse left his lips imagining how it’d feel to really fuck you. So warm and wet. How your pussy would tightly grip him.

“Curl your fingers upwards-and-and suck on my clit-I’m so fucking close babyboy.” Gasping louder when Steve did what you said you felt your peak approach. Steve felt how your muscles tightened around his fingers.

For not being experienced Steve sure did know how to use his mouth, having you moaning and shaking in no time. “I want to see you come-wanna make you come”, Steve moaned into your core, slurping and smacking loudly.

He looked up at you from under his eyelashes. His eyes being a bit glazed over, the blue being swallowed by his black pupils. A sudden urge overcoming him he definitely needed to try. “Mommy, please.”

And he was right.

Wetness gushed around his fingers, your walls sucking him in, your face scrunched up in pleasure. “Oh babyboy-you’re incredible”, after riding out your orgasm you slowly released the grip on his hair, moving your hand to lift his chin, running your thumb along his lips, the wetness glistening on his face.

A little smile widening over your lips. He was breathing hard and his eyes were all soft and needy. Your cum dripped from his chin onto his hoodie having left a wet spot behind.

Fuck.

“Sweetheart, you’re amazing.” , you mumbled, kissing his forehead before pulling him up and next to you onto the couch. “I’ll help you better with that…” Your hand trailed down his chest, but before you could grab his belt he stopped you. “It was about you, not me”, Steve kissed your knuckles. After taking off his hoodie he threw it over the back of the couch, an uneasy feeling erupting in your chest. Didn’t he even want a bit cuddling? You always enjoyed a hug after being intimate, but at the same time you knew you shouldn’t be thinking about it that way. It’s not like you were together. It was strictly business.

Steve kissed your forehead and took the food from the table. “I’ll warm the food up, you should wear something more comfortable than your work clothes-I thought we could watch a movie together”, he seemed sure about his words, but still seemed somehow nervous.

Which he was.

Because he now realized he had called you mommy.

And you seemed to enjoy it more than he’d imagine you’d do.

But the worst part of that?

He had definitely enjoyed it even more.

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imtrashraccoon · 8 months

Text

Nomadic Love: G x Reader

~~~

The sun glinted off the clear ocean waves as they lapped at the sandy shoreline before receding back into their bed. While the world was picturesque today, there were no beachgoers, which made sense as you could feel a slight nip in the air.

You breathed deeply the crisp morning air and with a sigh, realized that Summer was over. The days would only get shorter and colder until Winter finally arrived and the world fell asleep. You didn't mind the season change, but as far back as you could remember, Summer was special.

You used to spend the whole season here in this little seaside town at your grandparent's cottage. While you weren't able to visit as often as you grew older, you still cherished all the memories you'd made with them. When your grandparents decided to move to be closer to the rest of the family, you were surprised when they offered their old cottage to you. Of course you'd agreed to take the house since you loved it so much, but not without buying it off of them for a fair price.

Now, you spent your days taking long walks along the beach or even enjoying the surf when the weather was good. You were in a good position in life where you made enough money to get by but didn't really have to worry about going hungry.

You absentmindedly hummed a tune to yourself as you continued to walk down the beach, occasionally looking for anything interesting that the waves might've brought in. At one point you glanced up and spotted a tall, slim guy standing a hundred meters off just staring out at the sea. At first, you thought they might be a local out here for similar reasons as you, to say goodbye to another Summer.

As you drew closer, you could make out more of the person's features and your heart skipped a beat. There was only one man you knew who wore a gray parka all the time, even when it was hot out. But, you hadn't seen him for weeks and thought he'd left already to go...well, you didn't know where but he traveled around so much, it was a miracle for him to stay in one place this long.

It seemed like he hadn't noticed you just yet and you hesitated for a moment since you didn't want to interrupt anything. He seemed contemplative and had his hands in his pockets as he stared out at the sea. Surprisingly, he wasn't smoking for once and while you'd never understand how he was even capable of doing so, you were glad that he seemed to be conscious about leaving cigarette butts laying around, unlike most tourists that came here.

G, as he'd introduced himself as when you two met years ago, was probably the most fascinating person you'd ever met. Part of that was the simple fact that he wasn't human but an actual live skeleton. You never thought you would get over that fact as long as you lived, but he pretty much acted like any other person and it was easy to talk with him. He described himself as a free spirit and claimed to live a sort of nomadic lifestyle. He could be in a different city every night if he wanted to and often was.

Yet for the past five years, he'd come back to your little town for a visit each Summer. He never stayed for long and never seemed to come at the same time whenever he did. It was puzzling to say the least.

This town wasn't anything special, sure a couple of tourists came in the warm months which helped boost the economy, but there were certainly far nicer places to go if you wanted to enjoy the ocean. Still, you were glad to see him again and decided to actually go talk to him rather than just watching from a distance.

"Hey stranger!" you called out as you drew closer.

G looked over at you and the corners of his teeth quirked up as he smiled slightly. "hey sweet cheeks..." he responded warmly. "you just out for a walk?"

You nodded, "Yeah, although it made me realize Summer's finally over, which I'm only a little sad about not gonna lie."

G chuckled softly and glanced back out at the ocean for a moment. "yeah, i feel you there, but there's nice things about every season and i'd be lying if i said i liked one more than the others."

You chuckled as well and playfully elbowed him. "I don't think you dislike anything, G. In fact, I can't remember ever seeing you genuinely upset about anything. Seriously, how are you so chill all the time?"

He looked back at you and his singular yellow eyelight seemed to flicker with amusement. "nah, i do dislike things, but most of 'em aren't worth getting angry about, you know?"

You raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh really? Give me an example then. What's one thing you actually dislike?"

G seemed to grow thoughtful for a moment before responding. "besides actually committing to something? i guess i really don't like crowded places." He chuckled quietly and added, "cause people can't help but stare and mothers always pull their kids away whenever i walk by."

You nodded slowly. It made sense he'd dislike all the unwanted extra attention he must get on a daily basis. You almost felt a bit bad since you'd asked jokingly but he'd given you a serious answer.

"Yeah, I get that. Why do you travel so much then? Doesn't it only draw more attention to yourself?" you asked.

He shrugged, "yeah, it does, but i don't hang around anywhere for long, so it doesn't ultimately matter to me what people think. besides, i follow my soul and it keeps life interesting to travel so much."

"Must be nice to have that much freedom," you mused thoughtfully. "I get tired just thinking about the amount of travel you must do all the time. Seriously, how do you do it?"

"i'm a skeleton, angel. i'm quite literally built different and it's just something i enjoy doing." G grinned playfully at you, "have you ever been to paris?"

You laughed and shook your head, "No, never, and you have I suppose?"

G nodded, "yep, but i won't be going back anytime soon. sure there's some nice sights but it's not as spectacular as the movies claim. city of love my foot..." He shook his head at that last part but from his smile you could tell he meant it as a joke.

You gasped dramatically, "No... Hollywood exaggerated something and the real thing isn't all it was chalked up to be? Next, you'll tell me the sky's blue."

G snorted and rolled his eyelight, "that may be, but i think you'd still like paris. being anywhere new for the first time is always fun and besides, the architecture is pretty neat."

"Not all of us can just get up and go whenever we feel like it, G..." you teased. "Although, I think it would be fun to see it someday, but I'm in no hurry, you know? I really like this town and unless that changed, I can't imagine going anywhere else."

"right, you mentioned you spent a lot of time here growing up," G nodded thoughtfully. He paused for a moment and looked out over the ocean again. "i admit i kind of like it here too... it's hard to describe, but i like how quiet it is and how no one seems to mind that i'm here whenever i come by."

You hummed in agreement and sat down on a nearby rock. "I think most people have gotten used to your visits, it's just a part of life for some of them."

G sat down next to you quietly. You could feel him watching you and it seemed like there was something on his mind. He didn't say anything for a few minutes though.

A bit of an uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. A tumultuous amount of emotions were swirling inside and you really didn't know how to respond to any of them. On one hand, you were legitimately happy to see your friend again, but you also felt a bit hurt. Had he been ignoring you these past several weeks? Had you done something to upset him?

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you decided just to go ahead and ask. "You know, when I didn't see you for a few days, I thought you'd left again... How come you didn't reach out all this time if you were still here?" You couldn't bring yourself to look at him right now for fear that your emotions may get the best of you.

G was quiet for a moment before he answered softly. "i did leave, (y/n)... but, i had to come back...it was like there was something i needed to do..."

Confused, you glanced over at him. In all the time you'd know him, G had never been one to express regret or even hesitate to do anything. So, why was he suddenly acting all unsure of himself?

"Did you need any help?" you asked gently.

G snorted and playfully ruffled your hair, much to your annoyance. "nah, i'm alright, princess. no need to worry yourself over me." Whatever had been bothering him seemed to have vanished and a cheeky smile now graced his skull.

You frowned and attempted to fix your hair but to little success, especially since G kept moving strands of it around just to annoy you further. Finally, you gave up and crossed your arms, fixing him with the most annoyed expression that you could muster.

G only continued to grin at you, acting the very picture of innocence. He seemed to take great satisfaction in riling you up just to see what sort of reaction he could get out of you.

"hey, why don't we go do something fun? i only came back for the day and it'd be a shame to spend it by myself..." G stood up and offered a hand to you.

You sighed and reluctantly took his hand, "Well alright, it would be nice to do something since I only ever see you once a year."

G hoisted you to your feet, "that's the spirit, doll face. i'll show you a good time that you won't regret." Oddly, he kept hold of your hand and began leading you away from the beach, back to the road where he must've walked in from.

~~~

True to his word, G took you out on the town. While you knew most of the people and frequented many of the businesses regularly, he still managed to get you to have fun. Maybe it was his natural charisma and casual teasing, but it was easy to enjoy spending time with him.

Even some of the locals who kept to themselves all the time seemed to brighten when G was around. He really could just about brighten anyone's day with a joke or a compliment. Although maybe it was partially because he was a skeleton and so people expected him to act differently.

You had lunch together at the local burger joint and when it came time to pay, you discovered that G had already done so. You felt a little awkward about that but also grateful since you hadn't been expecting him to do so.

After that, you mostly perused some of the store fronts on the main street as you walked together. Although neither of you actually bought anything and mostly just pointed interesting things out or made jokes. It was fun and you didn't remember the last time you'd just hung out like this with someone. Maybe during high school? But that was back in the big city and you weren't friends with most of your former classmates anymore.

As it got later in the afternoon, G pulled you aside and guided you into a driveway between two buildings. "hey, i just got an idea on where we should go next," he said.

You raised an eyebrow questioningly and asked, "Oh? Where's that?"

G grinned and his yellow eyelight seemed to almost twinkle with glee. "it's a surprise, sweetheart... but first, do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you. What kind of question is that, G?" You were beginning to wonder what he could possibly have in mind now.

G studied you for a moment before chuckling softly. "alright then, i'm gonna need you to hold on to me for a second and not let go until i say to. think you can do that?"

Although you were thoroughly confused, you decided to roll with it and took one of his hands in your own. "Okay, now what?"

G's grin widened slightly and he leaned closer to you to whisper in your ear. "close your eyes as well, alright?"

You could feel yourself flush slightly from how close he was, but nonetheless you did as he asked and closed your eyes.

You heard G chuckle softly again as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you closer against himself. "keep them closed, kitten..." he whispered.

Before you could respond, you felt a strange sensation spread throughout your body, starting at your fingertips and toes. It made your body feel numb but not quite cold. The world seemed to stand still for the briefest of moments before rushing back at full force.

"alright, you can look now..." G murmured and loosened his hold on you slightly.

When you opened your eyes, the world around you had shifted entirely. Where you'd previously been standing in town, surrounded by two story building on each side, now you stood in the midst of a small field of wildflowers. There was yellow goldenrod, pink thistle, blue chicory, purple clover, white queen anne's lace, and many more that you didn't know the names of. Above you was a large maple tree, the leaves of which, were just starting to turn red. And above everything else, you could hear the sounds of distant ocean waves crashing on rocks not far away.

"Woah... How did you...?"

G grinned at your dumbfounded expression. "i used a shortcut," he answered, the gleeful twinkle still flickering in his gaze.

You huffed, "That doesn't even make sense. There isn't anywhere in town that looks like this. It's like you teleported us here or something..."

"shortcut, but i suppose you could refer to it as teleporting. the concept you're probably familiar with is similar enough anyways."

"But how did you...?" You gestured around with your free hand before adding, "...'shortcut' us here?"

"well i found this little place a while back, so i just used magic to basically step through space and bring us here."

"Oh... That sounds incredibly handy and also really cool!"

"yep, it makes getting around a bit easier and i can technically go anywhere i want, provided i'm already familiar with it of course." G stepped back from you but he kept hold of your hand as he led you over to the maple tree.

"Won't be long and all these flowers will be gone," you murmured as you glanced around. "They're really pretty though."

"yeah, when i found this place, i immediately thought of you." G paused and glanced around at the meadow before his gaze focused back on you. "do you still remember how we met?"

You blushed and glanced away, "How could I forget? Before I met you, I'd never considered that skeletons could be alive like you are... Ugh, I'm still embarrassed just thinking about it..."

G laughed, "i'd never seen a human go that pale before. still haven't but some people have come close."

You lightly slapped his shoulder. "Please stop reminding me... It wasn't that funny."

"nah, i'm just messing with you." G seemed unfazed and continued speaking, "unlike most people i've met, you're one of the nicest. you treat me like an actual person and not like a freak. it's like, you seem to get me, you know?"

You smiled at him, "Yeah, I'm glad to call you my friend and every year I look forward to when you're in the area."

G looked at you for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head slightly. He looked up at the branches of the great maple tree stretching overhead and in that moment, you saw a glimmer of the contemplative expression he'd been wearing earlier that morning.

You looked up as well at the afternoon sun filtering through the red leaves. In a way you felt a little sad knowing that Summer was over. It would be another eight or nine months before you'd get to see him again. You'd been through this many times before, so why were you feeling so disappointed that he was leaving again?

"hey, (y/n)?" G asked quietly.

You looked back at him, "Yeah?"

G paused and glanced down at your still joined hands before making eye contact again. He took a deep breath before speaking, "i like spending time with you, it's the reason i keep coming here actually. i've told you before, but when i travel, i almost never end up in the same place more than once. yet i constantly find myself coming back here to this tiny place."

He frowned slightly and added, "it took me this long to figure out, but i feel a connection with you, (y/n), and that's why i came back today."

You stared at him while trying to process what he'd said. As long as you'd known him, he'd been very up front with you about his commitment issues, in fact he'd even offhandedly mentioned it this morning. Besides his nomadic lifestyle, G had never seemed to be one interested in any sort of relationship with anyone. Maybe part of that was because he had a hard time actually connecting with anyone, being the only living skeleton in a world of humans.

"What do you mean by 'a connection', G?" you asked.

G chuckled, "ah, sorry, i forget sometimes that humans aren't generally familiar with matters of the soul." He paused for a moment while trying to think of how to explain it. "it's just that - a connection. my soul seems to be compatible with yours and i can't seem to ignore it. but, i understand if you don't feel the same..."

You covered your mouth with your free hand. You were shocked to say the least. He wasn't just messing with you again, right? No, he was acting serious right now and he'd never joked about this sort of thing with you before. Sure, he was a naturally affectionate person but this felt serious, more...real.

"Are you...? Are you saying you want to be more than...friends?" you asked quietly.

G nodded and squeezed your hand gently. "yes, although part of me isn't sure how to move forward... but i want to keep visiting you and i want to get to know you better."

"I'd love that. I...admit that I've had some thoughts over the years, but I never dreamed you would feel the same... It makes me happy..." You smiled, although you could feel a few tears threatening to fall at how happy you felt all of the sudden.

"you don't know how happy hearing that from you makes me feel, (y/n)." G smiled affectionately and softly wiped your tears away with his phalanges.

You nodded and took a deep breath to steady your nerves. "This is a lot to take in... What happens now?" you asked.

"anything we want, angel," G murmured. He moved a little closer and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you closer against himself.

You wrapped your free arm around his shoulders and hugged him, which he reciprocated and squeezed you gently. You could hardly believe this was happening right now and you were just so happy.

G leaned his skull against your head and hummed softly. After a few minutes, you both pulled away, but stayed in each other's arms and just gazed into each other's eyes.

You broke the silence first and asked, "Will you keep traveling like you have been?"

G hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding. "i think so, but i won't forget about you, (y/n). after all the traveling i've done, i don't think i could just stop all at once. if there really is something special between us, i believe that it will be easier to stay with you than to move on like i always have. or, maybe we'll come up with another solution; i'll do anything to make you happy. maybe you'd even like to come along sometimes?"

"I understand, just promise me you'll write, okay?"

G chuckled and squeezed your hand, "i'll do you one better. i'll make sure to call you whenever i'm able to."

"I'd love that. Just remind me to give you my phone number before you leave if I forget."

"i don't think you would, but I'll remind you, don't worry," G smiled warmly as he spoke.

You both fell silent and just enjoyed holding each other for a few minutes. A sudden gust of wind picked up and sent a cascade of brightly colored leaves billowing around you two.

G let go of your hand and slid his hand behind your head. He tilted his skull questioningly and it took you a split second to realize what he seemed to be wondering. You nodded slightly, granting him permission.

He only hesitated a second. Then, he gently tilted your head and closed the final distance. His teeth met your lips softly and you almost felt a sort of spark pass between you two. It was...magical.

And it was over all too soon. G moved away again and moved his hand to your cheek, stroking it in an affectionate way with his thumb. You opened your eyes again and sighed wistfully.

"I'm not ready for you to go again, G," you whispered.

"i know, but it's not forever, sweetheart. we'll see each other again before you know it and i'll call you as often as i can," he whispered back.

"I'll be waiting for you."

"i know, (y/n)..."

#g!sans #g!sans x reader #reader #undertale #this may or may not be a seasonal vent piece #echotale #oneshot #fluff #first love #fall vibes #raccoons drabbles

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stusbunker · 1 year

Text

Tattered: Growing Pains

A SPN ABO Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Dean

Word Count: ~3250

Warnings, etc: Dean has discovered he’s into her being pregnant. Sam and Dean tag-team smut. Oral, knotting, there’s lots of bodily fluids, but also a bath tub. Breeding kink, possessive and jealous Alphas. Nesting, pregnancy problems.

Series Masterlist

Special shout out to @lastactiontricia for putting up this series the entire time.

Six months later

Dean

The thing about hearing other people’s thoughts—- or even just having their emotions running through your head, well, it makes it really fucking easy to see their point of view. Especially after sensing the way she felt about me and Sam both. So— yeah, I decided to be the bigger man. But; really, it came down to Sam accepting that, truemate or not— I was just as much her Alpha as he was.

It hasn’t been the easiest, but it sure beats the alternative.

It's almost time to start moving into the Barn when I smell the change on her skin. Bobby and me have been busting ass all winter to get the place up to code and habitable. I didn't realize we were working on a deadline, but life’s always had a way of biting me in the ass.

I gather her up against me, rubbing my belt against her middle as she leans back to squint at my face. "What?"

I shake my head and go all glassy eyed on her, because she is actually glowing a little. And if she doesn't realize it yet, I'm not gonna be the one to say anything. I admit I'm slightly tickled to have this kind of secret to keep for a while.

Maybe even a little smug, too.

Sam's been working with Garth and some folks on the inside at Roman Enterprises to figure out the how's and why's to zapping the fucking face-munchers back to where they came from. So far it's been all surveillance and research, but everybody knows the time to act is rapidly approaching.

Now, we have another reason to get back home in one piece. Hell, maybe even reasons.

"Nothing, just looking at ya."

She rolls her eyes and swats my chest, reprimanding me. She kisses me quick, but deep and goes back to hauling in the rest of the groceries. I can't wait to see Bobby's face when he finds out he's gonna be a grandpa.

God, might even make him cry.

I drive to the Barn because though the weather is finally turning for the better, it's a cakey, mucky mess out there and I don't really want to spend five minutes cleaning my boots before I get to do the final walk through.

The plan was once the chompers were dealt with, we’d let her loose to nest. But I think it's time. Circumstances have changed. And we probably should keep her as busy as possible while she's still willing and able to put in the manual labor.

Fuck, I wonder if Sam knows. It's not like I can hear a heartbeat yet, it's just a chemical thing. Or maybe Alpha's intuition. Who knows and I don't really care how—- I just know what I know.

The entryway is wide and empty for now. We kept stone as the primary material for the floors, maintaining the rustic feel. But I talked Bobby into wisely installing a heating system beneath the decorative tiles. Warm and cozy like.

The staircase is wide and angular, nothing ornate, but sturdy. The kitchen and first floor bath branch out to the right, making for a southern exposure for a lot of natural light. The den and the office/library take up the left side, which once held the farm equipment and animal stalls.

Bobby ensured the built-in bookshelves would make Sam pop a nerd boner.

I take the stairs two at a time, rushing to see if I can parcel out the upstairs living quarters with some pocket doors or just keep it predominantly one large room with only single smaller rooms on each side, backed by the ensuite bathroom on one side and the walk-in closet on the other.

I don't think we were ever gonna need this much closet space so I start measuring it out, thinking nurseries don't last forever and that eventually we'd need space for toys and then privacy after that.

Maybe we hadn't thought this through after all. I think about calling Bobby out here, but it's probably too early to be making such adjustments.

Should wait 'til she's been to a doctor or something.

Still, makes me worry that the house isn't really ready. Or that could just be me.

Two weeks later

I get back from the hardware store just after sundown and all she's sending out is colors and WANT. Sam's easier to read, he's between her legs, the only dessert he really allows himself.

I leave my keys on the hook by the door and unlace my boots. She's excited that I'm home. Sam's happy she's happy. He's also damn pleased with himself and I can almost smell her once I start climbing the stairs.

I start shrugging out of my shirts as I enter our room. She's face down, ass up and Sam's on his knees, holding her open as he drags his tongue up and down her seam.

He groans when she sees me, and I can smell how her slick is already changing.

"Taste good, Sammy?"

"Better than ever," he agrees, before dipping down and sucking on her clit. She squeals and fists the comforter.

She's got a steady chant of 'mate mate mate' going in her mind. I sidle up to the edge of the bed, let her nuzzle my junk— just to hear her purr, before I back away and undo my belt.

She's the only one naked so far, but I'm not letting that last. I need to feel her. Fucking breed her all over again. God, she's gonna be so hot in a couple months. I can't wait to taste every inch of her, feel her thicken and plump fuller.

She whimpers, either Sam's doing his job or she's hearing me. She likes it when our mouths are on her, especially if it's to get her open for our knots— or to clean her up afterwards.

With her—with us it's been a little bit of everything. She wants both— she gets it.

Sometimes she makes us watch the other, eye fucks us as she rides the other brother. She's fucking vindictive. But she knows her power, can't be angry about a confident Omega.

And now that she won't be needy and in heat so often—- fuck she's going to have both our balls in a vice grip. She gasps and comes all over Sam's chin. He growls and keeps going, making her squirm until she comes again, loud and screaming his title.

I'm stroking myself nice and lazy now, going to stretch this out. Make her a pile of sagging joints and sticky skin before calling it a night.

"Can you smell it? What a good Omega we've got?" I ask without asking.

"Can fucking feel ‘em in there," Sam agrees.

I lean over the bed to where she's limp and warm. Kiss her hair and brush it back so I can get to her ear and breathe out, "you feel it, honey? Us growing inside you?"

She whines and then asks, all sleepy, "Pups?"

Sam and I share a look and a shit eating grin.

"Yeah, baby, you're fucking glowing with them," Sam confirms, hands soothing up and down her haunches.

"No wonder you've both been so damn happy lately. And handsy," she taunts, slipping away from Sam's touch and rolling up to her pillows in the middle of the bed.

She aint wrong. But, damn, didn’t think I was all caveman about her having kids until it actually happened. Now it’s all I can think about. I crawl after her up the bed, drag myself up her body, feeling the way she shivers from my body heat. I cage her in, box her in with my forearms and settle against the cradle of her thighs, hard and in no hurry.

She plays with my hair as I look down at her dazed expression, gather her up so I can slip my arms underneath to hold her head in both my hands. Nudge into the hair at her nape, getting her eyes to droop further closed.

“How’s my girl, huh?” I breathe against her lips as she smiles, just a hint of one really and she's reaching for a kiss. I hum against the familiar give of her mouth and drag her bottom lip in for a little nibble.

Sam’s off in the bathroom. I can hear him rummaging around, smell the salt she likes to use as he fills up the tub. He gives me this, just holding her, feeling her soft and supple in our bed. I kiss her, smirking as she tries to make it dirtier than it needs to be.

She’s fucking perfect.

I peck my way down her chin, drag my nose up her jaw, just to lap at that spot behind her ear. She’s itching to move, I can feel the tension build as I take my time, hold her tight, pinned by my hips and elbows.

She whines as I suck on her pulse, and sighs as I kiss it better.

Love this shit, love riling her up.

But she's sneaky, and just as I start to lick over to the other ear, she's got me in hand, clammy fingers squeezing and stroking. I gasp more than growl, of course she clocks it and fucking purrs.

"We gonna get dirty or what?" she teases.

"Don't want Sam's hardwork to go to waste," I agree, pulling her knee out and rolling my hips to really get at her. She drags up her other leg and lets me slick myself up. I tune everything else out, it’s just us right now. Just heat and wet and home. And me sinking inside her, her opening up to keep me close, and fuck it, I’m getting sappy here.

“Dean,” she moans my name, not my title, not some random endearment. My name and I just let go. I fuck her into the bed, hard and desperate, needy. All the while looking down at her, seeing her face and those eyes I can never hide from, just wrecked from it all.

Pride surges through me and I thrust deeper, letting my knot kiss her entrance, without letting it all go. I wanna keep drawing this out and if I focus on her, I won’t let her take me over the edge. I hover over completion— seeing her blissed out and mine.

So mine.

I snarl and clamp my jaw shut. Close my eyes and breathe. Force myself to use my upstairs brain and keep her throat out of my mouth. She’s mine, ours, I don’t need to reclaim her. She’s already got the best part of me anyway—- growing and safe.

My eyes snap open cuz she’s squirming to change positions, sitting us up so she’s in my lap, bouncing and kissing me all over. God, it’s perfect.

Every thrust she falls harder on my knot and I’m seeing spots, cross-eyed from the pleasure. “The water’s gonna be cold if we—,” I warn as she adds a swirl to the movement of her hips.

“Carry me,” she husks out, voice thin, but firm.

I lose it, slamming her down as my knot pummels inside her. She clutches to me with everything she has. When I can think straight, I feel myself leaking out of her, down my sapped nuts and onto the sheets and still she pulses around me, milking me for more.

I laugh and sigh, forehead on her shoulder as she wraps her arms around me and squeezes. I never want to move.

She murmurs in agreement, kissing my neck and just being that sweet side of her, the tender Omega that she kept hidden and protected for so long. I flex my toes behind her and start scooting us to the edge of the bed.

Sammmy’s been patiently waiting in the ensuite and I really should thank him. Maybe even ask for a spotter, but I manage to stand with her locked around me, her arms like snakes wrapping around my head. With every step I tug against her internal grip and we’re both whining at the strain by the time we reach the tub.

Sam’s shaking his hair out from a shower, and I make a point of not noticing his unsatisfied knot while I try to set her on the edge of the tub. Sam does a good job of suppressing his jealousy around me, but I always know. And it’s not personal, we’re beyond that. It still happens.

“Don’t look at me like that, it was her idea,” I gripe, trying not to rip out of her as I bend at the knees.

Sam huffs, probably giving her a bitch face, but she just shrugs and gasps as I step carefully into the tub.

“Easy,” Sam warns, like I’m not fucking going slow and steady.

She hugs me tighter, and I feel more of our juices slide down my thigh. Sam’s at her back now, holding her shoulders as I lift my other leg and twist us into the steaming water. We go down with a huge splash, but no one’s bleeding. So there’s that.

She sags against my chest, just letting herself relax with the warmth.

“Thanks, Alpha,” she says and we all know she means Sam.

Sam hums and pulls her hair out of the knot she had on top of her head, rubbing gently at her scalp. I never figured out how he does it without hurting her, but maybe it’s a trick having stupidly long hair taught him. Maybe he’s just got a better angle from space.

She sighs into his touch and smiles up at him with closed eyes. He bends down and kisses her. And I’m just a chair at this point.

Okay, maybe Sam’s not the only one who gets jealous.

I rub her thighs and use my fingertips to scrub our efforts off her skin. When my knot starts to soften, she leans back and gets her hair wet. That’s when Sam gives in and joins us in the tub. More water gushes over the sides, but I installed the walk-in shower at a pitch, the drain’ll do its job.

We take turns cleaning her off, and she takes turns kissing us stupid. We whisper sweet nothings about her body, our pups, the way she smells. I’ve never been so damn happy in my whole life.

Of course, it can’t last.

READER

What no one tells you about morning sickness is that morning has NOTHING to do with it. It’s like nausea for being hungry, your body is YELLING for nutrients in a more drastic way. Or at least that’s what I’ve been dealing with for the past six weeks since we figured out what we got ourselves into.

It’s been fine, really. I mean, I knew it was inevitable. The chance of birth control standing up against two claims and ALL that sex was pretty much wishful thinking at this point.

It’s just, we’re still on high alert with the Leviathans.

Dean’s letting me decorate the nursery, which is really just a branched off nook to the master bedroom. I still can’t believe all the work he and Bobby did to make this place so gorgeous. It makes me a little weepy just thinking about it too long, honestly. But don’t tell either of them, because they get all smug and start primping about their skills.

Yes, both of them.

Then there’s Sam. Who has, by far, been the worst. He checks my vitals, scents me constantly and has read more about the birthing process than probably half of the medical field. He’s relentless about my diet, my hydration, even my generally chaotic sleep schedule. If his protectiveness wasn’t so hot— I’d have stabbed him by now.

I still come pretty close when he raises his eyebrows when I sneak a sweet or two.

Dean’s on my side though, so tough titties for Sam.

I’m walking barefoot between our room and the babies’, relishing in the feel of the transition from reclaimed wooden floorboards to the cushy give of the soft gray carpeting.

I’m measuring the windows for curtains when the first pain shoots down my side, as quick and centralized as a ripped off bandage. I gasp and pull my arms down, rubbing the area through my shirt. It ebbs before I really think about it, moving on to the next wall where it’s a double window looking out towards the long forgotten cornfields.

It’s warm on the second floor this time of year, and we’re not around enough to leave the air conditioning on yet. So I huff a little and write down the width and height before stepping back and surveying the space. Blinds and curtains or just curtains?

I’ve never had my own space like this— never been able to choose how it takes shape. Another gift this house gives me. And I’ve found so many already: stability and hope, space and privacy, freedom, but mostly it gives us roots.

A true homebase.

A sense of safety and rightness has begun to creep into the everyday. My reflexes are slowing, even though I’m still on my feet and ready to assist on a hunt at a moment’s notice. Not that they’d let me in the field, now. Assholes. But I feel the ways I’m changing— we’re changing and I can’t really complain about the softer edges to us all.

I get another spasm just before dinner, nothing quite as alarming, but this one holds out longer. I’m rubbing my side again when Sam comes in with the bag of Chinese. Dean’s right behind him with a case of gatorade and a six pack.

Both of them gawk at me and I roll my eyes, take a deep breath and let them settle themselves down. One tiny bit of pain is not the crisis they’re thinking it is.

I take the bag out of Sam’s massive hand and start setting the white cartons out on the table. Worrywarts.

Bobby

The doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong. Something about weird body chemistry or mixed results from all the damn tests they’ve put her through the last week and a half. They’ve got her in a room, hooked up to monitors and saline drips. And still she’s struggling to keep a steady heartbeat. And the pups— well, they’re monitoring them too.

She won’t let me tell the boys. Not until we know something. But every instinct in me is screaming that those idjits need to be here for her, should be the ones holding her hand and getting the doctors to listen right.

I’m not her dad, but I’m the pack Alpha. I gotta do something.

They better just finish the Leviathans once and for all, because I’m not sitting on the bench for my health here. She’s been quiet today, pensive. Almost like when she was a kid.

Or younger. I didn’t know her like that until she was already hunting, damnit, in a way that these kids were never kids.

We’re not letting that happen again. Not if we can help it. I tell her I’m grabbing a coffee, promise to bring her something from the cafeteria. Just need to stretch my legs and get out of my head.

Make some calls.

Because we know a thing or two about things that these white coats don’t. And I’ll be damned if I let my girl go down without checking out every stop along the way.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @idreamofdeanie @stoneyggirl2 @delightfullykrispypeach @dolphincliffs @flamencodiva @crashdevlin @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield @rockhoochie @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @wingedcatninja @akshi8278 @itmighthavebeenintentional @smi727 @princessmisery666 @impalaslytherin

Read On: Chapter 9: The Prodigal’s Redemption

#tattered: growing pains #spn abo #alpha!dean x omega!reader x alpha!sam #alpha!dean #a/b/o dynamics #dean winchester smut #sam winchester smut #brothers share

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aralezinspace · 3 months

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Summer Knight Part 2

When Crown Prince Morpheus is summoned to his father's court for the summer, he expects it to be just as tedious and aggravating as any other season spent in the Dreaming's capitol. What he doesn't expect is an attempted kidnapping, a successful kidnapping, uncovering designs on the Dreaming's throne, and a handsome esquire he really isn't supposed to fall in love with. How can he not, when Hob Gadling sees him for who he is, and not just his station? How can he not, when Hob is willing to burn down the world for him? Or: Prince!Morpheus/Commoner!Hob Gadling medieval/fantasy AU

~~Masterlist~~

divider by cafekitsune

Chapter 2

Morpheus didn’t even bother washing up before he sought out his father- he settled for asking a passing servant to have a bath readied for him. As much as he wanted to clean up and settle down with his book, this was more important. Chronos was working in his study, and the Prince barged in without giving the guard a chance to announce him. The King looked up from the paper before him, eyes the color of decaying soil sparking with irritation.

“Ah, Morpheus. So glad you decided to grace us with your presence. Dare I ask why you appear to have been traipsing through a swamp?”

Morpheus scowled, resisting the urge to snap at his father with great difficulty. Instead, he gave a brusque account of what had happened, leaving Hob’s name out of it. He handed Chronos the crumpled letter. The King glowered the moment he laid eyes on the seal. Dark eyes glanced up at his son every few moments as he read. Morpheus stood awkwardly, trying not to squirm- his breeches were starting to become uncomfortably itchy for more reasons than the dampness.

Chronos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose when he had finished reading. The letter was tossed unceremoniously onto his desk. “Go change,” he grumbled, waving a hand in dismissal. “We will discuss this at tomorrow’s council.”

The Prince gave his father a brief nod, turned on his heel, and strode briskly out of the room. He returned to his quarters as fast as his legs could carry him without causing any undue alarm- the last thing he needed was to be stopped by a concerned servant while his cock throbbed hot and hard in his pants.

Morpheus immediately locked the door to his chambers, leaning against the heavy wood to take a few slow, deep breaths. The bath was waiting for him as requested. Next to the copper tub was a short wooden bench bearing a fluffy towel and his soaps. The windows were slightly cracked open in a vain attempt to lure in a breeze.

He dipped a finger into the water- lukewarm, slightly warmer than the lake, but not hot enough to be uncomfortable in the summer. Perfect. He hastily tore the clothes from his body, throwing them into a pile on the floor. The dark tile was almost cold under his feet as he carefully got in.

He sank into the water, a slight shiver running down his spine at the difference in temperature. His cock throbbed again, insistently demanding attention. Morpheus groaned and closed his eyes at the jolt of pleasure but also frustration that he still hadn’t had the release he needed. He reached a hand under the water and wrapped his fingers around the shaft with another full body shiver. He quickly worked himself back up to where he had been when he was so rudely interrupted by Hob and those fucking bandits-

Hob.

His face flickered into view behind Morpheus’ eyelids. The warm, dazzling smile. The weathered, tanned skin that had known sun and sweat. The movement of his body as he took down two opponents, easy as breathing. Took down two opponents in his defense.

He groaned again and moved his hand faster, some of the water sloshing out of the tub and onto the floor. The Prince’s blood ran hot under his skin as he let his mind wander: what if they hadn’t had to urgently leave the lake? Would Hob have mentioned that he noticed how hard the Prince was when he stumbled upon him? What would he have done? Offer to help? Watch with burning hunger in those dark eyes? Demand to take his pleasure of the Prince’s body as payment for his service?

It was this last thought that had Morpheus coming in his hand with a shout. He writhed in the tub, almost squirming over the lip and onto the floor as the waves of heat and pleasure moved through him.

He panted for breath as the tide began to ebb, more than a little surprised, and somewhat ashamed, at what had brought him to peak. With a sigh, he clambered out of the tub and snatched up the towel.

Morpheus spent most of the night dreading the morning’s council meeting. His encounter in the forest was sure to be the first topic of discussion, and then he would be expected to sit through the rest, even if he didn’t really need to be there. He tossed and turned in his bed, unable to get comfortable despite the softness of the mattress and the numerous times he flipped the pillows to the cool side.

Therefore, it was no surprise that he was already irritable when the meeting began after breakfast. He noticed several advisors make pointed glances at the dark circles beneath his eyes, and frowned in response.

After several more minutes of tense waiting, King Chronos took his seat at the head of the table and bid the session begin. Lucienne took her place behind Morpheus’ chair, off to the right, the perfect picture of how a royal advisor was supposed to comport themselves. Morpheus had never been more grateful for her steadying presence.

As expected, the first order of business was the attack on the Prince. Morpheus rose from his seat and once again recounted the events with minimal detail, once again omitting Hob’s involvement. No doubt Chronos would have wanted to question him; Morpheus thought sparing Hob that ordeal was the least he could do.

His story prompted the first genuine reaction from many of the councilors in Morpheus’ recent memory. They all looked incredibly uneasy, exchanging nervous glances with each other. Morpheus sat back down as they began to debate and then bicker amongst themselves about what would be the best course of action. Lucienne noticed his hackles rising quickly, and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. The Prince bristled for a moment, but then forced himself to relax.

“Enough!” Chronos finally shouted, his voice booming through the chamber. The arguing quickly died down, and the councilors had enough sense to look at least slightly ashamed. Chronos glared at each of them in turn as he took several deep breaths. “The only sensible idea I heard in that racket was Sir Cain’s.”

At a gesture from the king, Sir Cain, captain of the royal guard, rose from his seat and briefly bowed his head. “My suggestion,” he began, stroking his beard to calm his nerves, “Was to assign a personal guard to the Prince. Said guard would accompany him outside the palace, and be posted outside the door of any room his Highness occupies.”

Morpheus immediately protested, “Father I do not need a minder. I have Lucienne.”

Chronos turned his glare to his son, and his frown deepened. “Be that as it may,” the King ground out, “recent events have shown you do.” His eyes flicked to Lucienne, softening slightly. “I know Lucienne has served you well for many years, but she is a librarian, not a soldier. I will not risk that rat Burgess sinking his teeth into the Dreaming.”

Lucienne’s lips were pursed in a thin line as Morpheus let out a hiss-like breath through his nose, trying to keep a rein on the bubbling anger in his chest. Of course his father’s first concern was the safety of the realm, rather than the safety of his son. It had always been that way, and always would be. Not only that, the slight against Lucienne rankled him. Chronos could only wish he had an advisor of her skill.

“If I may,” Cain interjected, “Perhaps his Highness would feel better about the whole idea, were he allowed to choose his guard.” On one end of the table, Chronos stared at the surface’s dark wood in contemplation. On the other, Morpheus scowled.

Chronos thought some more before folding his hands atop the table. “Very well. We will open the position to any members of the guard who wish to submit their names for consideration.”

“What of the day laborers?” asked Sir Abel as he stood next to his brother. “As commander of the city watch, I know there happen to be some excellent fighters there.”

“Father-”

“Enough,” Chronos ground out again, waving a hand for silence. He would endure whatever farce or charade he must if it meant his son would no longer be a liability. “Post the notice in the barracks and the boarding houses. Anyone who wishes to be considered will report to the training yard at noon in three days. Morpheus–” Cain and Abel bowed their heads and took their seats as the King’s flinty stare landed on his son. “You are not to leave the palace until a guard has been chosen.”

At this, Morpheus slammed his hands on the table and shot up to his feet. “Sir, this is ridiculous! I am not a fragile maiden in need of a chaperone.”

“Sit down!” Chronos spat. Were he a child, that voice would have frightened and cowed him into doing whatever his father said. Now that he was grown, he barely flinched. “I will not have you be the downfall of this realm, not while there’s blood in my veins.” He pointed a finger across the table at his son. “As of this moment, you are a liability, and until you are not, you will remain in the palace. Not even Burgess is fool enough to attempt stealing you from right under my nose.”

Morpheus seethed. His nails bit painfully into the table as he slowly lowered himself back into his chair. “Besides,” Chronos continued, a condescending attempt at placation laced with a sneer, “it’s only for three days. You never were fond of socializing, I’m sure it will be no hardship to spend three days inside with your books.”

The Prince started to shake. If he didn’t leave before his father said something else, he was going to rage and scream. “Very well,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “May I be excused?”

Chronos dismissed him with a careless flick of his hand. “Go. Training yard, noon, three days.”

“I will be there,” the Prince murmured back as he stood to leave. He beckoned for Lucienne to follow him- she gave the King a curt nod and turned swiftly on her heel to leave the council chamber.

Morpheus tried not to stomp all the way back to his chambers- he was a Prince, not a petulant child- but it was difficult. King Chronos never failed to get under his skin and rip him open from the inside. Lucienne followed him silently, an ever loyal shadow.

When they reached his chambers, he turned to face Lucienne, hovering in the doorway. “Please do not take my father’s words to heart,” he implored her. “You… Your work is not unseen, nor without value.”

Lucienne smiled bashfully and glanced at the floor. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured into her ledger. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I shall send for you if anything arises. Good day, Lucienne.”

“Good day, sir.”

Morpheus closed the door behind her and locked it. Once he was alone, he dragged his hands down his face with a frustrated roar. His father had taken his freedom with a few words in the guise of protection. He was confined to the palace until he chose a guard, after which time he would never truly have a solitary moment’s peace.

The very next day after his chance encounter with the Prince, Adrian came sprinting to the bench where Hob had just sat to eat his lunch. A piece of paper was clenched tight in his fist.

“Hob!” he yelled, skidding to a halt. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Hob was in the middle of taking a bite out of his bread when Adrian shoved the paper into his chest. He uncrumpled it with crumby fingers, the entire roll clasped between his teeth. His brow furrowed as he took his bite and chewed, one hand holding the paper, the other holding his roll. His eyes grew steadily wider as he read the notice.

“Is this real?” he asked through a mouthful of crust and dough. Adrian nodded with a big smile.

“Sure is. Your little infatuation is looking for a bodyguard.” Hob swallowed his mouthful and read the notice again. It was true, he hadn’t been able to get Prince Morpheus out of his head. And here, now, was a chance to not only see him again, but to see him every day. Hob went a little doe-eyed; what an honor it would be to see that face every day.

Adrian gave him a friendly nudge and sat next to him on the bench. “You should go for it. I’ve seen you fight, you can take anyone in the royal guard or city watch.” Hob scanned over the notice again.

“Says we’ll demonstrate our skills tournament style, but Prince Morpheus has the final choice. So…” He lifted his gaze, staring aimlessly at the sky as his thoughts tried to organize themselves. “Even if I don’t win the demonstration, he could still choose me.” He pressed what remained of his roll into his forehead with a groan.

“Reena’s tits, what do I do?”

“Maybe start with not swearing by Reena’s lovely bosom,” Adrian quipped, “You’re gonna need all the help she sees fit to give you, lover boy.”

Hob frowned and gave Adrian a shove, almost pushing him all the way off the edge of the bench, but the corner of his mouth was just barely twitching into a smile. Hob sighed as he read the notice again and absently munched on his now flattened roll.

Adrian laughed as he righted himself, then leaned back against the bench, and closed his eyes to the sun. “Besides,” he continued, “What do you have to lose? An afternoon? A little dignity?” He cracked an eye open to smirk sideways at his friend. “Is the apple of your eye worth the effort?”

“Yes,” Hob answered just a little too quickly for a mere infatuation, folding up the notice and stuffing it in his shirt. He crammed the rest of the roll into his mouth and stood with a stretch. “I’m gonna go find Tiko, see if he’ll practice with me.”

Adrian waved him off. “Have fun, don’t overdo it, or you won’t stand a chance.”

Chapter 3

The next three days passed in different shades of haze for Hob and Morpheus. For the Prince, it seemed like the day of choosing his bodyguard couldn’t come fast enough, or wouldn’t come at all. As his father had predicted, he spent most of his time either in his rooms or the gardens, nose buried in a book. When the pages couldn’t hold his attention, he wandered the halls aimlessly, listless like a ghost.

For Hob, they were a blur of activity- whenever he wasn’t working, he was training. Adrian had to force him to rest every night, otherwise he would have kept going until he collapsed. He was almost vibrating uncontrollably, filled with anxious tension and energy that needed an outlet.

Finally, and yet not soon enough for either of them, the day for Prince Morpheus to choose his guard had arrived. Hob had woken at dawn, too nervous and excited to really get any sleep, and gently kept his body moving all morning. His friends in the boarding house wished him luck as he walked out the door, trying to keep his chin up and his strides confident. He knew he’d be going up against members of the royal guard and the city watch, some of the best fighters around. He only hoped that win or lose, it would be enough to capture the Prince’s attention.

A small dais had been hastily constructed at one end of the training yard. Atop it sat King Chronos and Queen Nocturna, with Morpheus at the King’s side, and Lucienne standing behind Morpheus’ seat. The King and Queen sat ramrod straight, stately and regal, no indication at all as to what they thought of the proceedings.

Morpheus, however, fidgeted nervously with his fingers, picking at his cuticles. His eyes darted back and forth between the assembled men, knights and members of the guard, along with a few sellswords claiming to just be passing through, and one or two commoners. He recognized a few of the newer members of the guard, hot-headed young men eager to prove themselves. Morpheus sighed petulantly; he just wanted this whole thing to be done.

A commoner skidded into the training yard just before the bell struck the noon hour. Morpheus couldn’t see his face, as the man was doubled over and panting slightly for breath, but that dark brown hair highlighted with gold in the sun was oddly familiar…

The man stood up straight, and time stopped.

It was Hob. Hob Gadling, who had defended him not days before, was here to try his hand in the hopes of being chosen as Morpheus’ guard.

The Prince’s mouth went dry as he watched Hob stretch and shake out his arms. He barely registered Cain’s explanation of how they would proceed, didn’t even acknowledge the smattering of applause as the first two were called to the center of the fighting ring.

Hob was attired much the same as that day in the forest, a loose fitting shirt and trousers, well-worn leather boots up to his knees. His arms were crossed over his chest, drawing the Prince’s eye to the tufts of hair poking through the lacing of his shirt. Hob’s gaze was singularly focused on the fight, observing, cataloging, learning all he could about how each man moved.

Everyone applauded when the fight was decided and the two combatants shook hands. Hob swept a hand over his hair with an excited grin, and his eyes found the Prince.

Gods but he was stunning.

He was richly dressed in black and silver and navy, a silver and ruby chain of office draped over his chest. Pearlescent skin was flushed slightly pink from the heat of the midday sun, even under the shade of the canopy. Long fingers ornamented with gold and silver rings tapped distractedly on the armrests of his seat.

From all outward appearances, the Prince seemed to be incredibly bored, like he’d rather be anywhere else, and was doing his best not to sulk. But then, those startling blue eyes fixed all their attention on him, shining with a flash of recognition.

Hob couldn’t help the beaming, besotted grin that spread across his face, nor could he help the flush in his cheeks caused by the heat both within and without. The sounds of the next fight faded into the background, fuzzy and muffled. He had resigned himself to never seeing Prince Morpheus again, other than in passing at parades or processions where he would just be another face in the crowd- unnoticed and unremarkable, and yet here they were, only a fenced in ring of well-scuffed earth separating them.

Well… a fenced-in ring and the leagues of difference in their social standing.

But maybe, just maybe, that was about to change. Hob was nothing if not optimistic, often to the point of foolishness, or what some would call deluded. He could, and would, get the Prince to notice him. Even if he wasn’t chosen, he was resolved to give Morpheus a demonstration he’d never forget.

Hob’s first opponent was a hot-headed young lad who had just joined the city watch. The boy was eager to prove himself- Hob could see that in the way he almost anxiously bounced on the balls of his feet. It was almost sad how quickly Hob was able to get his legs out from under him and pin him to the ground. There was a smattering of applause as he helped the kid up to his feet and gave him a pat on the back.

After every man had fought two or three matches, Cain briefly conversed with Abel, and then the King, in low whispers, his dark eyes occasionally darting to where the candidates stood waiting. Some were sporting bruises already turned blue and purple, some had a few smudges of dirt on their clothes, and others (like Hob) appeared to be totally unscathed. When a decision was reached, Cain stepped into the middle of the ring.

“We will pair you off again,” he announced to the dozen men assembled, “Our second round will test your skills with a blade.” Abel approached with an armful of blunted training swords and passed them out. Hob frowned as he held the weapon and a lode of anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach. He was decent with a sword, but much better at hand fighting by far. Depending on who he faced, this next bout may not end well, and the last thing he wanted was to disgrace himself before the Prince.

The fights proceeded in the same manner as the previous round, only aiming to make one’s opponent yield rather than going for the kill. It was a test of character and honor as much as martial prowess. Some of the better fighters carried themselves with anger or haughtiness, qualities Morpheus absolutely did not want in a man that was to be his shadow. His frown deepened as he watched the fights and resolutely ignored the sharp stab of his father’s gaze.

The nervous churning in Hob’s stomach increased as the fights continued and his name wasn’t called. Finally, as afternoon began to wear into evening, only one pair was left: Hob vs Sir Cain.

Morpheus straightened up and floated to the edge of his seat. He had barely breathed through any of Hob’s fights, rather, staring in awe as he once again demonstrated the skill and tenacity that had saved the Prince.

Even Chronos couldn’t hide his interest in this match. This peasant Hob Gadling had shown himself to be quite an adept, ruthless, and yet honorable fighter. The King was eager to see how the captain of the royal guard would fare against him, a man with no knightly training, but undeniable skill.

Hob and Cain circled each other with slow, measured steps. Hob twirled his sword in his hand. The plates and mail of Cain’s armor clinked together. With an excited grin and a cry, Hob attacked right as Cain was about to take his next step, hoping to knock him off balance, his sword a flash of steel slicing towards Cain’s leg.

Cain shouted and flicked his blade down to parry the blow. He stumbled over his off-foot, but recovered too quickly for Hob to take advantage of the opening. The knight countered with an attack of his own, then kept coming, forcing Hob to take retreating steps back as he parried.

Hob quickly glanced behind him to see the fence rapidly approaching- that quick look away from his opponent earned him a glancing slash on his arm when his blade didn’t make it to parry. He hissed as he side-stepped Cain’s next blow and drove his heel into the knight’s side, just at the bottom of the metal cuirass.

Cain grunted as his side crumpled around Hob’s foot and he was pushed back from the force of the blow. Hob darted away, putting some distance between himself and the knight. He took a quick peek at the wound in his arm- blood was welling to the surface and starting to seep into his sleeve, but it was little more than a scratch. Hob could hardly believe he was holding up so well against the best knight of the realm… unless Sir Cain was going easy on him.

Time to change that.

“Come on then,” he goaded with a smile, twirling his sword in his hand. “Let’s give ‘em a proper show.”

Cain was caught slightly off guard by the statement, smiling incredulously. Hob could fight, that much was certain. Theirs was likely to be a test of stamina as much as skill.

He rolled his shoulders and settled into his stance. “Alright then, Gadling. Let’s see what you can do.”

The contest that followed would be forever seared into Morpheus’ memory. Hob and Cain darted around each other, their swords meeting again and again. Hob’s hair came loose from its braid from the speed at which he had to turn to meet Cain’s blows. It was longer than Morpheus remembered, the ends hanging down to the center of his chest when they weren’t whirling about. In motion, it flitted and fluttered around Hob’s face in gossamer-like strands of honey and amber and fertile earth.

Their fight went on longer than any of the others, but Hob eventually began to tire. He was breathing harder, his sword felt heavier, his legs shook numbly. Sweat dripped from every pore of his face. It took longer to get his sword up- some attacks were barely deflected by the skin of his teeth, and Cain was able to parry his own attacks with almost contemptuous ease. They were nearly equal in skill, but Cain had the greater stamina.

The knight could tell within a handful of blows that the fight was all but over. Hob attacked with an overhead strike, Cain easily brought his sword up to meet it, blade held perfectly parallel to the ground. While Hob’s sword was out of the way, Cain brought his foot up and kicked Hob square in the chest, knocking him backwards.

Hob’s head hit the ground hard enough to shake his vision for just a split second, but that was enough. The moment he could see again, his muscles tensed to scramble to his feet- only to find the point of Cain’s sword aimed at his neck. The knight’s armored silhouette blocked out the sun, and there was a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well fought, Gadling,” he said as he held out a hand.

With a smile and a grunt, still panting for breath, Hob took his proffered forearm and let Cain help yank him to his feet. The two gave a quick bow to the dais before returning their weapons to the rack. A few of the younger men were staring at Hob in abject awe- Cain was known to be one of the best warriors in the land, and even though he had eventually been victorious, Hob had made him work for every single inch of ground gained. None of them had expected a day laborer to be a match for Sir Cain.

Abel had all the fighters line up before the dais and stand at attention. They all looked much worse for wear, none more so than Hob, but you would never be able to tell. A beaming grin had split his face open despite the hair that hung loose in sweat-frizzed and dirt-matted strands, the bruises blooming over his ribs beneath his shirt, the cut still oozing blood into his sleeve. He wore his scrapes with pride- in fact he hardly felt them; there was so much adrenaline and so many endorphins coursing through him that he felt he could go another round.

The three royals stood and the combatants bowed their heads. Morpheus stepped up to the line of fighters and slowly strode past them all, his hands behind his back, the picture perfect appearance of stately calm. Underneath that flawless veneer, his blood was boiling, and it was taking every ounce of self control to dissuade his libido from making an appearance.

He paused in front of Hob and let his eyes rake up and down the man’s scuffed up body that was somehow even more attractive for the beating it had taken. No one would question him taking a closer look at a potential personal guard, even if Morpheus was looking for more aesthetic reasons. Eyes of ice that should have melted under the sun watched as beads of sweat trickled down his neck, leaving clear trails in the grime on his skin before being absorbed by the faded linen of his shirt.

The Prince’s mouth went dry. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, hoping his words wouldn’t come out sounding like he’d been choking on a lump in his throat for the whole afternoon. “Step forward, Master Gadling.”

It took Hob’s mind that was still high from the fight a moment to process the Prince’s words. With a twitch, he stepped forward and took a knee, his head bowed. “My Prince,” he murmured to the ground. Behind his son, King Chronos was frowning, while Queen Nocturna was utterly impassive.

“You fought very well today,” Morpheus continued, smiling gently at the man kneeling before him.

Hob lifted his head, the full force of that beaming, ecstatic grin brought to bear against the Prince, and it was blinding. “Thank you, sir.”

Morpheus bid him rise with a regal gesture before addressing the group. “All of you fought very well. It is heartening to know the Dreaming has produced warriors of such skill and honor.” He paused, the gravity of his forthcoming decision settling around him like a heavy cloak. He knew in his mind and his heart who he wanted, just as he knew who he was expected to choose. Just as he knew the two were not the same.

“Step forward, Sir Cain.”

The captain of the royal guard did as he was bid, and took a knee before his Prince. He was the epitome of what it means to be a knight of the Dreaming- strong, skilled, loyal, honorable, unshakeable as the crust of the earth. A pillar for the land and the people to lean on and trust with their care. The rest of the assembled fighters fidgeted nervously as Morpheus clasped his hands in front of him.

“Sir Cain,” Morpheus began, “Do you desire this position?”

“I only desire to serve my kingdom, my Prince.” Cain’s answer was automatic, the words straight out of one of the codices on chivalry. And yet, everyone assembled knew that Cain meant them with every fiber of his being. Morpheus smiled gently.

“A sentiment I very much appreciate, Sir Cain, and a desire I would not bar you from.” His eyes flicked up to Hob, sparkling and intense. “Step forward, Master Gadling.”

Hob once again did as he was bid, taking a knee beside Cain. Morpheus asked, “Do you desire this position?”

Time froze as Hob’s quickly tiring mind tried to come up with an answer. If he gave the same answer as Cain, while the sentiment would be true, it would come across as disingenuous, merely saying what he was expected to say. If he said what he truly wanted, that the Prince had stolen his heart that one day in the woods and he would gladly live and die for him… well, that was probably a bit much.

“I-” He swallowed hard around a mouthful of dust and nerves. “It would be an honor to devote my skills to your well being, your Highness.”

Morpheus heard the soft snort of derision from his father behind him, even as the rest of the world faded away while he committed Hob’s face in this moment and his words to memory.

“Then rise, Robert Gadling.” The Prince’s voice was slightly choked and cracked, as if trying to keep something down and that something was fighting hard to be let loose. “Rise a member of the royal guard.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder. “I choose Robert Gadling.”

“I would strongly counsel against it,” Chronos ground out. “Why not Sir Cain?”

“Sir Cain is an admirable knight,” Morpheus retorted, his voice raising slightly. “The best we have. Therefore, I do not think it wise to bind him to myself, when his skills are put to much better use as captain of the guard.”

Chronos’ frown deepened. As much as it pained him to admit, even only to himself, there was wisdom there. He couldn’t even begin to fathom replacing Cain; none of the other knights seemed anywhere near equal to the task of guard captain.

Hob barely caught the words of their exchange, their voices blending into the ringing in his ears. Morpheus had chosen him. In just an afternoon, he had gone from resigning himself to never seeing or talking to the Prince again, to a future of spending nearly every waking moment at his side. He could hardly believe his good fortune; his legs were vibrating with the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet like a child.

“Very well.” The words were reluctantly hissed through the King’s gritted teeth. “Gadling, report to the palace tomorrow morning to swear your loyalty and be invested.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Morpheus thanked the others for showing their skills and dismissed them. The King and Queen also took their leave, eager to get out of the heat. Hob fidgeted anxiously, unsure if he should depart as well. Did his new position start right now, or tomorrow after he swore fealty?

“You are free to leave as well, Master Gadling.” Hob jolted as the Prince’s breathy words landed not a hand’s length away from his nose. “I would not ask you to sacrifice your last night of freedom before being eternally chained to my side.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Hob replied with a grin and a soft laugh before he could stop himself. “Your Highness.”

Morpheus chuckled as well, the sound suffusing Hob with a pleasant warmth even as the Prince tried to contain the sound. “As I said to Lucienne, I pity the man tasked with my care.” Hob could see the smile trying to spread across his face even as the Prince fought to maintain his regal aloofness. A glimpse and it was gone. “I am glad you put yourself forth for consideration, Master Gadling.” His next words were somewhat awkward and uncomfortable, and yet sincere: “I am finding the prospect of having a constant minder much less… distasteful.”

Hob scratched at the back of his head with a bashful smile. “You’re welcome, I suppose.” He returned the Prince’s unsure words with an awkward laugh of his own. “And please, call me Robert. Or Hob, no need for Master Gadling all the time, Highness”

“Ah yes,” the Prince replied with a breathy laugh, trying and failing to prevent a flush of pink in his cheeks. “How could I forget…” He extended his hand- not with his palm toward the ground as he would when expecting obeisance, but as he would for a handshake between equals.

Hob blinked once, twice, three times before it finally registered. His grin spread even wider and he jovially took Morpheus’ hand in his own. He was struck by how smooth the Prince’s skin was, and how cold, even in the heat of the summer.

Likewise, Dream knew he could spend hours exploring the texture of the calluses that decorated Hob’s palm and knuckles- which were from manual labor, which were from fighting? The skin was rough, but not unpleasant.

Hob would later blame what he did next on adrenaline and how hard he hit his head when fighting Sir Cain. Softly, he rotated his hand so the Prince’s fingers rested in his palm. He lowered his head, reverent and adoring, looking Morpheus in his icy blue eyes that were swiftly growing wider- and pressed a firm but gentle and lingering kiss on the back of his hand.

Hob’s lips were warm and a little rough, just like his hands. Sparks flew from the spot where they made contact, rushing and tingling through Morpheus’ entire body. The Prince barely breathed as Hob raised his head. The pink blush in his cheeks deepened to cherry red, and sweet warmth settled between his legs.

They stood there for long moments, hands clasped together, neither willing to be the first to let go. The moment stretched on and on and on, until Hob was startled by a distant whinny. His little jolt was just enough impetus for the two to release hands, Hob shuffling a little awkwardly, his cheeks positively glowing.

“Well,” he started, nervously drawing out the one word. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

Morpheus smiled. “Yes. I would recommend you arrive early. Visit the blacksmith before you depart today, he will measure you for your armor.” Hob nodded with a beaming grin and picked at the hem of his shirt, clearly waiting for the Prince to dismiss him. Morpheus nodded and half turned towards the palace. “Until tomorrow then.”

Hob gave him a quick bow and a smile. He turned on his heel and strode confidently toward the nearest gate separating palace and city. Morpheus couldn’t help his chuckle at the slight bouncing swagger in Hob’s steps- the steps of a man who had just conquered the world.

Hob woke before dawn the following morning, once again too keyed up to get any proper rest. He had washed his best shirt and trousers the night before, along with scrubbing and oiling his boots until they shone. His friends and the children that lived in the boarding house helped him gather his few possessions, as he would now be living in the palace.

One of the younger boys bravely held back tears and sniffles when he asked if he’d ever see Hob again, and the new guard’s heart cracked. Of course,Hob had told him, had told all of them. He didn’t know when, but he wouldn’t forget them, and would visit as often as he could.

So with many cheers and wishes of good fortune, Hob left the boarding house for the last time as the sun began to crest over the horizon. His breakfast of bread, cheese, and an apple was in the satchel slung over his shoulder, along with a few trinkets, a few tools, and a second set of clothes.

By the time he arrived at the main palace stairs and gates, the shops and stalls in the immediate vicinity were just starting to bustle with life. The palace had yet to open to the public, but he seemed to be the only one eagerly waiting to get in for an audience. The soldier that had stood at the guardpost overnight tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

Hob nibbled on his breakfast while he waited for the palace to wake up. His stomach was writhing and churning so intensely he thought he wouldn’t be able to keep it down, but he knew he would need his strength if he was to assume his duties starting today.

The gates creaked open as the sun’s heat started to soak into the cobblestones. Bouncing on the tips of his toes, Hob waited until they were all the way open before briskly striding through, up the main stairs, and to the guard who was in charge of letting visitors in or turning them away.

“Name?” he grunted as he gave Hob a cursory once over.

“Hob- uh, Robert Gadling. I’m here to-”

“Prince Morpheus’ new keeper.” The guard cut him off with a raised brow, and something in his mouth that looked like pity. “Was told to expect you. Straight inside, right to the throne room, find Sir Cain. He’ll tell you what to do.”

Hob gave him a smile and nod in thanks. Once inside the palace proper, he followed the trickle of nobles and other commoners to the throne room, eyes darting around the cavernous space in search of Cain. They skipped over the councilors standing to the side of the dais, the King and Queen’s empty thrones, the banners emblazoned with the Aeterna crest hanging over massive arched glass windows… ah, there he was. A stray beam of sunlight bounced and reflected off Cain’s armor, guiding Hob to him as a lighthouse guides a ship.

The knight caught his eye and beckoned Hob to him. Once they were standing together off to the side, Cain adjusted Hob’s shirt so it sat better on his shoulders and murmured, “Tie back your hair.”

Hob swore and dug a leather cord out of his bag to bind his hair in a braid and tie it off. While he did this, Cain murmured how the morning would go- the order of petitions, when he would be expected to approach the thrones, what he would be expected to do and say for his rather short investment ceremony. He made Hob recite the oath of fealty until he could do it without stumbling over the words.

A short melody of trumpets blasted through the hall, announcing the arrival of the royals. Everyone assembled bowed as the King, Queen, and Prince Morpheus approached the dais from a side hall. They faced their subjects for a moment before slowly sitting. King Chronos gave the gesture for everyone to rise, and the day’s business could begin.

The secretary read the first petition from a scroll, some dispute over farmland. The two men involved approached the dais and knelt as the secretary explained their argument. King Chronos asked them each a few questions before passing judgment.

Rather than listening, Morpheus was scanning the assembled faces, looking for his soon-to-be-guard. A knot of worry settled in his stomach- would Gadling show? He tried to convince himself it was ridiculous, of course he would show. He picked distractedly at the hem of his doublet, a navy and silver piece that brought out the many shades of blue in his eyes. When he picked it out that morning, it had been with the desire for Hob to think him handsome- why did he want Hob to think him handsome? He had even attempted to tame his hair slightly.

On the edge of the crowd, almost all the way across the room, Hob stood entranced. The words of the citizens and monarchs were a jumbled blur; Prince Morpheus held all his attention without even trying. He could feel the besotted grin settle comfortably on his face as he stared.

Despite the grin, his insides were churning with nerves. There were so many ways he could cock this up before even starting- stumbling over his words, tripping over his feet on his way to the dais, being so starstruck by the Prince that he didn’t speak at all- He took a deep, shuddering breath and mentally smacked himself. He closed his eyes, trying to center himself and get it together.

When he opened his eyes, Prince Morpheus was staring right at him.

Their gazes met, and Hob felt a jolt that started at the top of his head and anchored him to the floor when it reached his toes. He felt his eyes go wide, his hands start to clam up. Morpheus was staring, those icy eyes raking over every bit of Hob he could see with an intense focus. Hob could only respond with the barest movement his body would allow when pinned by that gaze: he winked back at the Prince.

A blush the color of almost-overripe strawberries flared to life on the Prince’s cheeks, practically glowing against his pale complexion.

“Next we have…” the secretary read, “The investiture of Prince Morpheus’ guard. Sir Cain, if you would.”

Cain gave Hob a little shove and indicated for him to follow. Hob squared his shoulders and wound his way to the front of the crowd. Cain approached the dais, bowed to the royals, then went halfway up the steps. Facing the crowd, he said, “Come forward, Robert Gadling.” His voice resonated and bounced off the stone walls, clear and assured.

Hob approached the bottom step and bent the knee. He kept his eyes lowered, his heart hammering in his chest. Cain stood before him. He could feel the eyes of the royals and all assembled digging into him, but the Prince’s stare cut the deepest, burning through him like frostbite.

“Robert Gadling of Istoria, you have proven yourself a man of skill and honor. Do you accept the position of esquire of the Dreaming of your own free will, with all its benefits and dangers?”

“I do.” Hob proclaimed the words without an ounce of fear, staring determindly at Cain. He could already hear murmurings and whisperings among the assembled.

“As you have accepted, swear your fealty with all assembled to bear witness to your oath.” Hob swallowed hard. Don’t mess this up Gadling.

“I, Robert Gadling, offer my service and bond to House Aeterna of my own free will. From this moment forth, I vow to defend Prince Morpheus from any and all that would do him harm, to stand by his side in the light and the dark.” His eyes flicked up to the Prince, steadily meeting his gaze so that Morpheus knew these words were being spoken to him, and him alone. “I vow to uphold and live by the Dreaming’s code of honor to the end of my days. My life and my body are his blade and his shield, until his Highness release me, or death claim me. May I be condemned to the blackest caves of hell for eternity without peace, if ever I forsake this oath.”

“Then rise, Robert Gadling, esquire of the Dreaming.” Cheers and applause rang out as Hob got to his feet with a beaming grin. Even the Prince was clapping, a proud and smug smirk on his face. Cain swept his arm out and stepped aside as he said, “Take your place at the Prince’s hand.”

Heart pounding and legs shaking, Hob ascended the stairs, gave the King and Queen a bow, then moved to stand behind Morpheus’ seat, just off his right shoulder. The secretary moved on to the next order of business once the applause had died down. Hob barely processed the words, so overwhelmed with pride and joy and excitement as he was. Lightning should have been coming out of his fingertips. His eyes sparkled, fixed on the Prince but darting over every feature he could see.

The Prince knew he should have been listening to the next petition, but he found himself unable to focus. He could feel Hob’s stare on his back, and couldn’t resist flicking his gaze over his shoulder every few seconds to meet those dark and glittering eyes.

There was no denying his attraction to Hob Gadling, nor Hob’s attraction to him. Trying to resist it was like trying to resist gravity- futile, pointless, and would ultimately lead to despair. Hob made his blood spark like nothing and no one else before; even Lucienne had commented that he seemed more alive and engaged with the world after meeting the now esquire.

When the last petition had finally been heard and resolved, the royals all stood and left the throne room through the door they had entered. Hob followed behind Morpheus, trying not to seem too apprehensive or out of place. The King and Queen headed their separate ways without a word to either of them.

“Well,” Morpheus began as he turned to face Hob, “As there is nothing else that requires my attention, I would show you the palace.”

Hob gave him a low, playful bow. “I am at your beck and call, Your Highness.” His melodramatic response pulled a short, barking laugh from the Prince before he could even think about keeping it down. The sound echoed in the hall, and the Prince immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, looking absolutely mortified.

Ever so slowly, like approaching a wounded animal, Hob took two steps closer to the Prince. He swallowed hard around a lump of nerves. With the same care, he slowly took Morpheus’ wrist in his hands and moved his hand away from his mouth.

“Highness,” he murmured, swallowing again and easing his words past the lump in his throat. “Please don’t feel like you have to hide from me.” Morpheus’ hand was now clasped gently between both of Hob’s, steadily warming. “I swore an oath, and I meant it. As long as I am your guardian, I will keep you safe. From blades and poisons and all that is a given, but I will keep you safe from anything that threatens your well-being. And if it happens to be cruel words, I will protect you from those too.” He glanced bashfully at his feet before working up the courage to meet the Prince’s eyes that had taken on the haze of a sky shrouded in mist. “I gave you my word.”

Morpheus stared at him in disbelief. Hob’s vehemence had come as a complete surprise- he had not expected such a level of devotion, that Hob would want to protect him not just because he was the Prince, but because he valued Morpheus’ safety. His words spoke to a strength and depth of character he had not anticipated. The Prince took a deep, choked breath and exhaled heavily.

The hand still held between Hob’s tightened its grip and tugged. Hob could only go where he was led, stumbling for two steps to stay upright. Morpheus quickly pulled him down the hall, around one corner, then another, and through a discreet wooden door that led to (Hob presumed) one of the servants’ corridors. The Prince closed the door behind them- the air was musty, the passage dimly lit with the orange glow of lanterns.

Hob found himself pressed against the door, with the Prince flowing into his space like a gentle wave. A cold hand tenderly caressed his cheek, and before he knew it, the Prince was kissing him.

He inhaled sharply through his nose at the touch of Morpheus’ somewhat chilled lips and froze for a moment, his stomach lurching up to grab his heart and park them both in his throat because by all the gods above and below Prince Morpheus was kissing him. But then those lips moved, a slow, gentle, almost tentative slide, and Hob was lost.

His hands immediately found the Prince’s waist and urged him closer while responding to the kiss, returning what he was given and yet no more- a small part of his mind was able to break through the euphoria of the kiss to remind him that he was kissing the Prince, that he could be severely punished for taking such liberties.

When they finally broke apart, they were both panting softly for breath. Morpheus’ hand still rested on Hob’s cheek, and he leaned into the touch for just a moment, inhaling the scent of the Prince’s soap and the linen of his shirt.

And then they locked eyes.

“Your Highness-”

“Master Gadling-”

They spoke at the same time, awkward and stumbling and unsure. Hob gestured for Morpheus to go first.

“That was-” he began haltingly, “Unspeakably forward of me. I- I am usually not so.”

“Oh I don’t mind at all!” Hob was quick to reassure him with maybe just a little too much enthusiasm. “Really, it’s alright. I-” He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “I’ve wanted that for a while now, to be fair. Ever since I first laid eyes on you actually, the day you arrived in town. It’s just- you’re a Prince, and I’m supposed to protect you, not take advantage.” He lowered his head, his words full of bittersweet shame. “I beg your pardon, Highness. If it pleases you I’ll resign immediately. Don’t think they’ve had an esquire in and out so quick, but first time f-”

Morpheus stopped his words with a finger pressed to Hob’s lips. Hob watched his eyes harden from bluebird feathers to ice in real time, and it made his gut clench. “Do not apologize.” The words were a reproach and a command. “There is nothing you need be sorry for.” Hob nodded, two quick jerks of his head. Morpheus didn’t move his finger. “We may discuss this later if you wish. For now, it would behoove us to be seen touring the palace.” A mischievous smirk touched his face.

“We wouldn’t want anyone to think you were already neglecting your duties.”

The Prince led him back around to the training yard and stables where they were greeted by the sound of a hammer repeatedly striking metal. Hob was almost vibrating with excitement at the prospect of getting his armor.

Mervyn the blacksmith was a surly, wiry man with a shock of orange hair bursting from his head. He was intensely focused on his work, and didn’t notice the two arrive until he quenched the horseshoe he had been beating into shape.

“Highness,” he greeted with a curt nod, then turned to Hob. “Oh, it’s you. The new kid.” Hob frowned slightly.

“Yea, that’s me. Was told to come pick up my armor and weapons.” Mervyn nodded as he placed the horseshoe back on the anvil and wiped metal stained hands on his thick leather apron.

Murmuring gruffly to himself, Mervyn beckoned for them to follow him to the back of the workshop. Laid out on the bench was Hob’s armor- no longer vaguely shaped pieces of leather, they had been cut and molded and pieced together to form functional works of art, all stamped with the Aeterna crest. Leaning against the workbench was a leather belt wrapped around a shining hand and half broadsword in its scabbard and a matching parrying dagger.

Hob gasped in delight and barely restrained himself from running over to the bench.

Morpheus leaned casually against the workbench and crossed his arms over his chest, content to simply observe. Mervyn beckoned Hob over and told him to stand still with his arms up. He held two lengths of leather cording between his teeth as he tugged the cuirass over Hob’s head like a shirt and fastened the buckles on the sides. Once it fit him around the chest, he adjusted the length of the shoulder straps so it sat correctly.

Next were the bracers that covered the entirety of his forearms up to the elbow while letting his wrists have their full range of motion. They were made of the same warm brown leather, and laced up with the leather cording.

Then the greaves; thick, stiff shells that could be worn over his boots. Mervyn made a snarling grunt of effort as he knelt beside Hob and buckled them into place. Once they were on, he picked up a stray wooden rod and gave Hob a solid rap on his shin. “Feel that?”

Hob laughed. “Nope!”

Mervyn grunted again as he hauled himself to his feet and picked up the sword. Morpheus chuckled softly to himself as Hob took the weapon with almost reverent hands.

He fastened the belt around his waist and adjusted the two sheathes so the sword hung on his left hip, the dagger on the right side of his back, almost over his ass. With the creak of new leather, he slowly drew the sword.

It was elegant in its simplicity- a plain cross guard and pommel, the handle wrapped in leather. The blade shone and practically sang even in the dimness of the smithy. Beaming widely, Hob turned to Morpheus and casually rested the blade on one shoulder.

“Well?” he asked somewhat bashfully. “What do you think? Do I look like an esquire yet?”

The Prince barely processed Hob’s words; he was too busy staring. Not only did the armor fit him perfectly, it rather suited him. The warm tone of the leather brought out the golden warmth of his skin, the bracers and greaves drew the eye to the strength that resided in his limbs. Hob held the sword as if it were an extension of his arm, innocently baring its deadly beauty. Morpheus began to feel hotter, and not just from the heat of the forge. Hob’s stance was casual and cocky, and it was driving the Prince mad. Other than the roguish grin, he looked like he could have just stepped out of a tapestry.

“Yes-” Morpheus choked. He cleared his throat, a hand over his mouth. “Yes, well done Mervyn.” The blacksmith grunted in response. Hob’s face fell just a tiny bit at Morpheus avoiding his question. He sheathed his sword with a slight pout.

After thanking Mervyn and saying their farewells, Morpheus spent the rest of the afternoon showing Hob around the palace- he took him to the gardens, the stables (Hob was to have his own horse eventually, his own horse!), the library, and everywhere in between. He briefly met Lucienne, the Prince’s advisor and right hand. She had given him a calculating once-over before voicing her approval.

Morpheus usually took his meals in his rooms, but since he was attending his father’s court, he was expected to dine in the great hall with his parents and the other nobles. While the Prince was seated at the high table with the King and Queen, Hob was directed to the table closest to the dais, so he could sit and eat while still keeping watch over the Prince.

Once dinner had ended, Morpheus led Hob to the rooms he stayed in while attending court. The esquire tried hard to not gape like a fish at the lavishly elegant sitting room, but ultimately failed. Morpheus closed the door behind them and slid the deadbolt home. He gestured for Hob to have a seat in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace while he took the other.

The silence was unsure, tense. Hob wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do when the Prince was in his private rooms- wait outside? Wait in whatever room he wasn’t using? Be glued to his side all hours of the day? And what about when the Prince was sleeping?

While all these questions jostled for the forefront of Hob’s mind, Morpheus was agonizing over how to phrase what absolutely needed to be said, without hurting or scaring away the man who had just sworn to be his guard. His life was in Hob’s hands, and therefore more than a little dependent on Hob’s good will. A precarious position to be sure, but he was well acquainted with those.

“Master Gadling,” the Prince finally choked, his voice stiff. His elbows were perched on the arms of his chair, his fingers laced together in front of his mouth.

Hob’s stomach immediately swooped with dread.

“What occurred earlier, in the servants’ passage…” He swallowed hard. Hob’s breath caught in his chest, his vision tunneling- he knew exactly what the Prince was referring to, but also knew better than to interrupt.

Morpheus swallowed again and bit his bottom lip. Hob was so fixated on how his teeth dug into the soft flesh, imagining what it would feel and taste like to sink his teeth in instead, that he almost missed what the Prince was saying.

“What occurred earlier cannot happen again. I will not take advantage of one tasked with my care, nor risk you losing your position for ‘taking liberties’.” Hob tried to hide his disappointment, but he couldn’t stop the way his face fell at the Prince’s words.

“I am not angry,” the Prince continued. Well, he was angry, but not for the reasons Hob probably assumed. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Only… it cannot happen again.” Hob stood and nodded, hands clasped resolutely behind his back, trying to hold himself in the stature of a perfect soldier.

“I understand, your Highness.” A hesitant pause. “Where should I stand guard tonight while you rest?”

Morpheus thought a moment. “I believe that is up to your discretion. Your rooms are next to mine, to the left. There is a short hall connecting the two sitting rooms. Both of those doors are usually locked, but we can discuss alternate arrangements should the need arise.”

Hob nodded and gave the Prince a courtly bow. “Then I’ll just- I’ll take my leave then, if that’s alright.”

“Yes. You may go.” He gave a wry smile. “Be warned, I am an early riser.” Hob chuckled as he stood up straight.

“Fair enough, I am too.” Even though Morpheus had given him leave to go, neither the Prince nor the esquire made a move to continue with their nightly activities.

Finally, after several nervous, tense moments, the Prince rose and cleared his throat. “Well then, goodnight, Master Gadling. I-” He distractedly interlaced his fingers in front of him. “I’m glad to have you as a guard.”

Hob gave him another bashful yet equally blinding grin. “We’ll see if you still say that in a week or so.” A respectful nod. “Goodnight, Prince Morpheus.”

Morpheus locked the door to his chambers again once Hob had left. He leaned against the door and dragged his hands down his face. Barely hours into his assignment and he had bloody kissed his guard! What was wrong with him? Damn Hob Gadling for reducing his restraint and self control to dust, and yet there was no other he would trust with his safety. Oh no. Oh no.

#the sandman #dreamling #centennial husbands big bang

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