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loveshotzz · 10 months

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All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap ten/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs -

Baby, I’m Yours

summary: A sleepless night brings you back to where it all began.

wc: 8k

warnings: 18+ for the softest of smut.

author’s note: I know we still have the epilogue but I can’t believe we’re actually here at the end of their story. Thank you to all of you that spent your summer reading about Steve and his Tough Girl, this has been such a journey for me as a writer with a lot of challenges but I’m so thankful I did it. Truly writing about these two and talking about it with you guys was the highlight of my summer. From the bottom of my heart, thank you 🧡

🌇 <- chapter nine

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

Beginning of August

Steve had been gone for a week and a half and it felt more like a lifetime to you, but it wasn’t for the lack of communication. If Steve wasn’t calling you he was texting you, sending you pictures of his lunch no matter how lame you told him it was. By day three you were sending him a picture of your own with a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes. His enthusiastic response of ‘That looks good baby!!’ had made you squirm in your seat with hot cheeks huffing the word “pathetic” to yourself, but that didn’t stop you from doing it again the next day.

It was FaceTime calls of Peach telling Steve to turn the camera around, always too busy looking at you and telling you how pretty you are to notice his was pointed towards a wall. Or the one time it was pointed at Eddie who sat in front of him making a suggestive ‘cumming’ face to tease him, the camera flipped immediately when he heard you giggle. Steve scolded his cackling friend with an ‘honestly, I hate you’ before taking you to another room, apologizing profusely with blush visible on his cheeks.

It was the small bits of time in between text messages and phone calls that made it drag. The quiet evenings without Bandit’s excited bark from the front yard, the low simmer that’s always in your gut from the possibility of running into him any time you come and go, is gone with the man and his dog. It’s just enough time for seeds of doubt to creep in. The newness, the anxiety of it all.

The bright red numbers on the clock above your stove read 2:13am - three days until Steve gets home and tonight you can’t sleep. Quietly thanking whatever gods there are for your day off tomorrow, well - today.

Your apartment smells like Clorox, lavender, and lemon. The wood floors sparkling just like your kitchen countertops. Cleaning everything you could touch has kept you busy, but it doesn’t make you any more tired than when you’d started. Your intrusive thoughts and daydreams are going a mile a minute:you didn’t get your usual good night call from him. The rational side of you knows that one missed phone call doesn’t mean anything, but the irrational side decided you don’t need to rest.

The full trash bag next to your front door taunts you, just like the promise you made Steve about taking it out late at night months ago. The fact that it’s the last thing left to do makes it that much harder to walk away from. Gnawing at the side of your cheek you decide not to, he’s not even home to catch you.

The moon’s blue glow illuminates your path while the skyline of the city sparkles below it. The tall buildings shimmer in a way that takes attention from the stars in the cloudless night sky. You can feel how the humidity hangs less thick in the air the more August rolls in. The thin material of your tank top does nothing against the light breeze that makes the bottom of your sleep shorts tickle the tops of your thighs. There’s a chill that didn’t exist before and it makes goosebumps dot across your skin.

Your slides scrape along the gravel from your refusal to fully pick your feet up, and it fights with the sounds of the late Friday night in the distance. You hum a made up tune as the streetlight buzzes above, lifting the lid you jump when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“I thought I told you not to take your trash out in the middle of the night, especially alone, tough girl.” Steve’s voice erupts everything that’s laid dormant inside of you for the past week. Butterflies start to flutter until they’re fighting against your rib cage to get out and your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling before you’ve even turned around.

“Well,” You sigh, dropping your bag in the trash can, “the guy I was supposed to call if I needed anything ditched me for his out of state boyfriend.” Shrugging when you finally let yourself look at him, the view rivals the one that shines bright behind him.

His hair is messy in a way that isn’t purposeful this time, but he looks just as handsome as any other day. The stubble on his jaw is thicker, but not quite like the night he waited at your doorstep, and god, do you want to feel it against your skin. His big arms sit crossed over a broad chest that’s only covered in a gray tank top. The thick patch of hair always half way on display threatens to touch the base of his neck, the bottom of his silver chain disappearing inside of it.

His freckles are darker now, easier to find from all the sun he got while he was gone and you’re jealous of the hands that got to rub sunscreen on them, even if they were his own. The black basketball shorts on his legs stop in the middle of his thighs, it makes you bite at your lip.The greens and golds in his eyes light a match under your skin with the way he stares at you — like he couldn’t possibly look away even if he tried.

“My out of state boyfriend huh?” He grins, tightening his hold on his own bag before his Nike slide covered feet crunch against the gravel towards you. His eyes catch the dainty silver still hanging around your neck, the stone shining in the moonlight, and it makes his heart swell. Tossing his trash in after yours, he meets your gaze down the slope of his nose, arching a brow. “What does that make you then?”

He smells like bergamot and cedar, a lingering hint of the cigar he probably smoked in New York still clinging to his hair. The heat coming off his body makes your fingertips buzz, twitching with the need to reach out and just touch him.

“I dunno, what does that make me, Steve?” It comes out shy, a little above a whisper, a question just for him.

He hums, a low sound that vibrates from deep in his chest while his fingers come up to toy with the stone that dangles just above the dip of your breasts. The tips of them tickling rough against your soft skin.

“What do you want?” His confident demeanor falters when he asks just as quiet, all the miles and days without seeing each other are affecting him too. He doesn’t tell you that’s part of the reason he booked an early flight home on your day off.

“I want you.” You don’t hesitate when you say it, no pauses for even a second to think of what you want to say. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, the muscles under your palm dance from your simple touch. He wonders if you can feel his pulse.

“You already have me.” He almost wants to laugh until he still sees the same shared doubt in your eyes. “Haven’t I made that obvious?”

He tugs at your necklace as a reminder, a smile breaking across your face because of it and all he wants to do is kiss you now. Especially when he drops the stone to grab your hand, and after taking just a few steps, you reach up to touch it again — a silent, constant reminder of his confession as you walk towards the wooden gates.

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early?” You pout a little, looking up at him when he stops you both at your backyard.

“I landed a few hours ago,” He chuckles, his hands finding your hips to pull you to his chest, in love with the way you stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck like it’s natural, like it’s second nature to want him close. “I was actually going to surprise you in the morning with breakfast after I picked up Bandit from Nance’s.”

“Oh yeah?” You grin at the thought of Steve showing up at your front door, that messy head of hair shoved into a baseball cap.

He nudges his nose against yours, the spearmint of his toothpaste fanning cool across your cheeks while your fingers curl into the soft hair at the base of his neck. Tilting your chin so your lips just barely touch, you silently beg him to close the gap.

“Yeah,” He breathes, hazel eyes clocking the way your lashes flutter against the top of your cheeks. He almost feels bad for teasing, especially when you give his hair a gentle, coaxing tug. “But someone wanted to risk their lives for the sake of taking out the trash. So, surprise, pretty girl, I’m home.”

His words make your breath catch, and you want to tell him he feels like home more than your real one ever did. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest when his top lip whispers against your still slightly pouted bottom one. You tug at his roots a little harder this time, needier, and you swear a whine tightens at the back of your throat threatening to come out if he doesn’t give you what you want. Please, kiss me.

“Well, good thing you were here to save me.” You giggle against his mouth, and it makes his hands squeeze at your sides a little tighter, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The tip of your nose pushes against the rough stubble on his cheek, “Besides, I missed you, I wouldn’t have wanted to wait ‘til the morning.”

“God, honey. You have no idea how much I missed you.” His face crumples a little at the thought, almost like he forgot for a second you were right in front of him, but when you somehow pull yourself closer, he doesn’t waste anymore time.

The wood is rough when your back hits the gate at the same time his lips finally crash into yours. A week of longing comes out with a sigh. The metal hinges and lock clank loudly together while he steals the breath from your lungs. He coaxes your mouth open with a swipe from his impatient tongue, groaning when you grant him access. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, and he promises himself he’ll never go a day without it again — not if he can help it.

Your hands get greedy in his hair, bigger handfuls, harsher tugs while your body stays flush against his as he keeps you pinned to the door. It’s all tongue and teeth for a minute, both of you losing yourselves in it for longer than you should. It’s not until a car honks, signaling to any bikers around that it’s popping out of the alley, breaking you two apart.

Chest heaving and lips swollen, all you want is more.

He laughs to himself pressing his forehead against yours with the kind of smile that makes your knees weak. The tip of his nose touches yours; he’s all wild hair and love sick eyes. You don’t want to be without him tonight. Or ever.

“Come sleepover?”

The question comes out before you can stop it, before you can really register what that invitation might mean for both of you. His eyes widen before they search your face for any kind of regret, his tongue wetting his lips when he doesn’t find it. You twist strands of his honey hair between your fingers, nervously waiting for his response.

“We - we don’t have to do anything. I just wanna be with you.” You finally whisper, your nerves getting the best of you. He can’t believe you think he’d actually say no.

“Let me shower and get the airport off of me, and then I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with you baby.” He steals another kiss from your smiling lips, letting you take another one for yourself, groaning at the nip of your teeth on his bottom lip before he finally lets you go.

Opening the gate for you, he grabs your wrist pulling you back for one more, relishing in the giggle it earns him before he whispers that he’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

It feels like your heart is trying to escape through your chest as you try not to check the time on your phone. Strategically placed candles are the only light in your living room and kitchen, while a dimmed bedside lamp in your room gleams a dark orange with your wax melter. It feels like your apartment is glowing, but it does nothing to relax the nerves that course through your veins as you pace the small space of your room trying to shake them before his inevitable arrival.

Knock, knock, knock

They are quieter than his normal ones, but they make you jump just the same. You shake your hands out, taking a deep breath before you pad barefoot to your front door. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and contain the smile that always grows the first time you lay your eyes on him and his lopsided grin.

“Hey baby.” He greets you in the kind of voice that makes the dough of your thighs press.

His damp hair is pushed back, from what looks like a few quick hands in the mirror. A simple white shirt replaces the tank top from before, fitting loosely across his shoulders, and a soft looking pair of gray cotton shorts cover the tops of his thighs this time. He’s wearing a tan pair of moccasin slippers on his feet that you’ve never seen, and for some reason his exposed ankles make the heat rise to your cheeks while the fresh scent of his pine body wash threatens to take over your senses.

“Hi handsome.” It’s dripping in sugar the way you say it, sweet off your tongue just for him as you open the door wider.

He thinks your apartment smells like peaches and the ocean when you close it behind him. It smells just like you and he feels surrounded by it, intoxicated with it, the way he always wants to be. You watch him take in your apartment like he missed it too, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth when he notices you just cleaned it. He bites back his remark when his eyes meet yours, he can’t bring himself to say it when you’re staring at him from under your lashes with your back pressed to the door all shy like that.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” he extends a big hand out for you to take with soft eyes, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” copying your line from outside, he wiggles his fingers a little with a smile warmer than the glow of the candles that dance shadows across his sharp jaw and cheek bones, “I just wanna lay with you.”

You don’t hesitate to slip your palm into his, your heart racing when you watch his fingers wrap around you with ease. He pulls you into him, colliding in a mix of forest and the beach. He keeps a hold of your hand, cupping your cheek with his other one. The pad of his thumb traces over the heated skin, paying extra attention to the soft bag under your eye. You needed sleep.

“Just me and you, that’s all I want, okay?” He reassures you in a voice lower than a whisper. His heart swells when you nod with big glassy eyes, your hand coming to rest on the top of his so you can lean deeper into his touch.Steve’s hazel eyes look to yours, he tilts his head a little bit closer in a silent ask for permission, you push up on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.

He kisses you differently than how he did in the alley, differently than the Fourth of July and the baseball game. He’s gentle, like he’s taking his time with you because he actually has it now, like he’s sure of it. He doesn’t try to deepen it even when they move together like this is what they were always meant to be doing, not even when your top lip catches a little dirty with his bottom. He wants to remember this moment, commit it to memory so that he never forgets what this feels like with you. He kisses you like this until the need for oxygen becomes too much and your feet start to hurt from standing in place for too long.

“Let’s go lay down.” You whisper between bated breaths that mingle with his, your chests heave as he gives you the kind of toothy grin that makes the butterflies wake up again, nodding with a squeeze of your hand.

The hum of A/C and the sounds of your breathing are the only things that can be heard in the low light of your room. Steve’s body lays pressed on top of yours, making himself comfortable between your legs. His head rests on your sternum with a cheek against the soft curve of your tummy. His big hands hold tight to your sides, caging you in – it feels like he’s everywhere and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The weight of him relaxes you into the feathers of your pillows.

Your fingers keep themselves busy buried deep in the thickness of his hair. Still a little damp at the roots, you massage the part of his scalp you know was resting on the hard cushion of the airplane seat, earning you a deep groan that vibrates between your legs. He feels the way they try to close because of it, the sharp intake of breath that you try to hide.

He’d be lying if he said his own body wasn’t reacting being this close to you, especially when the pads of his thumbs caress under the swell of your breasts and there’s no wire of a bra to be found. His eyes roll back as the blunt ends of your nails start to scratch lightly near the nape of his neck, making his fingers squeeze you at the sensation. His face nuzzles deeper into the softness of your stomach, inhaling. You feel the prickle of his stubble through the thin material of your tank top and it makes you giggle.

Steve doesn’t know how he lasted as long as he did this past week without you.

He pushes the bottom of your tank top up and tries not to stare at the supple skin exposed to him before blowing a raspberry. It earns an even louder giggle, making your legs bend at the knees, trapping him in between your thighs.

“Steve!” You sound annoyed but the smile on your face gives you away when you go to cover your eyes with the back of your hand.

“What baby?” He smirks against your skin and feels the way it makes you squirm with a subtle roll of your hips, he’s not even sure you noticed that you did it.

“No…”Your voice trails off when he pushes your shirt up a little higher, his lips getting bolder, addicted to the way you heat up for him with every soft kiss, “No raspberries.” You finally manage, making him chuckle. But that doesn’t stop him continuing on his path.

“I promise I’ll be nice, m’sorry” He mumbles an apology against your skin, basking in the goosebumps it earns him.

He sits back on his knees, thumbs hooking into the bottom of your tank. His eyes meet yours from underneath his lashes and he wishes he could take a picture of the way you look right now.

“Is this okay?” He asks just to make sure, and the nod of your head with heavy lids is enough for him to press a wet kiss on your sternum before pulling the rest of the offending fabric off, throwing it somewhere on your floor.

Steve forgets how to breathe the moment his eyes land on you, soft curves just begging for his touch. He can’t help himself when he runs his palms up your sides making your nipples pebble when the pads of his thumbs meet the bottom swell of your breasts. You wonder if he can feel the wings under your rib cage.

“God - honey,” Steve’s words get lost on his tongue when you stare up at him with eyes blown out like his, it makes him run a hand down his face like he can’t believe you’re real. “I’m lucky to just be lookin’ at you.”

His praise makes a shy smile push up your cheeks, his own teeth shining in a grin because of it.

“I wanna look at you too.” You whine a little, reaching down between your legs to tug at the cotton of his shirt with a pout.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, bending back down to hover over you. His nose nudges against your cheek before his lips brush yours, smirking when you nod a little desperate against his mouth.

The kiss he gives you lingers, lighting a fire inside of you, the kind that burns at your fingertips, consuming you like it’s wild and it makes you realize it’s never going to be enough. You’re never going to get enough of the man who looks at you like you hung the stars in his sky, like you were the sun that broke through the rain clouds that followed him around.

His fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, and it feels like he’s moving in slow motion when he pulls it over his head, adding it to the already growing pile on the floor. His muscles twitch under your gaze, his own nerves finally catching up to him when he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s been with someone like this. Pink dusts his cheeks but he doesn’t look away, not when he sees the way your eyes glaze over at the sight. The dark thatch of hair in the middle of his chest looks soft to the touch from his late night shower and it makes your fingers twitch to touch him.

The silver of his chain gleams like yours in the moonlight that leaks through your curtains and it makes his skin look like it glows. You give in, running your fingertips through the thick happy trail that’s surrounded by another collection of freckles and moles that you feel the need to kiss and you catch the shudder that runs through him because of it.

“You’re so handsome, Steve.” It comes out a little breathless, and it makes the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Thank you, angel.” He tries to hide his bashfulness in a grin and a hand through his hair, bending back down to press a kiss to your collarbone so you don’t see his smile.

He starts a path up your neck, nipping at sensitive skin along the way to your lips, his own butterflies being spurred on by the whimper it earns him. He hovers over you searching your face for any indication to stop but he’s only met with the kind of look in your eyes that almost has him say it.

‘I love you’.

He tries to show you by slotting his lips against yours in a hot breath, like a key to its lock. The bed dips on either side of your head when he goes from his palms to his forearms, chest to chest he wonders if you can feel his heart beating just for you tonight.

The feeling of his skin against yours makes every inch of you feel like a livewire, both of you moaning into the kiss like you’ve waited too long for this. Tongues collide messily when he rolls his hips with a purpose. The pointed pressure on your bundle of nerves, has you keening into him. Your hands slide up his chest through the patch of hair you’d been dreaming about for months, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. Addicted to the way his hard muscles flex against your soft skin.

Box springs squeak when he lets go of all of his weight, it feels like he’s everywhere and it makes your head spin. Your fingers find their way back into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you fight for dominance with his lips, trying to convey everything you’re feeling right now because words just won’t work.

Pushing your hips up to meet his in a slow grind, the thin material of his shorts does nothing to hide just how big he really is and it makes everything turn sloppy, teeth scraping together with silk between your fingers tugging at his roots a little mean. He smiles when he pulls away to catch his breath, keeping his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are as black as the night outside that threatens to give away to the sun in just a few hours, they look at you like he can’t believe you’re real, memorizing every detail of your face like you might disappear if he blinks.

“So pretty.” He murmurs before littering kisses down your body, some sweet and some with a nip of his teeth.

His eyes meet yours in a silent question of ‘is this okay?’, long fingers curling around the elastic band. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your shy smile. You nod with a little too much excitement making him smirk before pressing a sweet kiss on the top of your hip, running his nose along the soft your tummy doing it again to the other side.

You hold your breath when he pulls them down your thighs, the tips of his fingers gliding down the sides of your legs as he goes, lips tugging up when you squirm a little because of it. A low groan vibrates from his chest when he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear, glistening with your arousal in the dim light. You’re so wet and all he’s done is kiss you.

“Baby, baby, baby.” He mutters awestruck by the sight.

A little embarrassed at your body’s reaction, his praise makes your legs try to snap shut but he stops you with a gentle hand on the inside of your knee, spreading them again.

“You’re beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” He begs, taking all of you in again. “So, so, so beautiful, honey.”

His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling your leg up enough for his lips to kiss the soft skin right above the round bone, his nose skims up your calf to press another one, relishing in the giggle he gets as he keeps on his path to what he really wants. You squeal when he nips at the inside of your knee and you can feel his smirk against your goosebumps.

Once his kisses get to your thigh, he settles between your legs with his chest to the mattress. It’s hard to remember your own name when he looks up at you through his lashes like that. He hooks your knee over his broad shoulder, his lips dragging a little dirty across your heated skin. He can taste the watermelon that still lingers from his favorite lotion. You were going to be the death of him.

He meets your eyes when he gets high enough for your thigh and hip to connect. Close enough to smell how sweet you are worked up just for him.

“Can I taste you?” He skims his nose up the plush inside of your thigh when he asks, his eyelids growing heavy just basking in being close to you like this. You could say no, and this would be enough for him but the way you’re already dripping on your sheets makes him insatiable. “You want that?”

You want that?

He watches how your eyes glaze over at his question, the intensity of his gaze makes you want to hide, he was so handsome looking up at you like this. Too bashful to actually say yes, you nod again.

“Can you say it for me?” He squeezes your hip, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles to soothe your nerves like his own weren’t boiling under the surface of his confident demeanor like a volcano ready to explode.

What if he wasn’t good at this anymore?

“Y- yes, I want you to taste me, handsome you can do whatever you want to me.” The breathy giggle that bubbles passed your lips makes him grin lopsided just how you like, a smugness that wasn’t there before smoldering like a fire in his eyes.

“Yeah? Fuck - Honey, I dream about this.” He groans when he pulls himself closer, the tip of his nose running up your slick folds making you shudder, fingers already tangling in your sheets. “You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

He doesn’t tell you that he’s started to always miss you when you aren’t around.

He accepts your nod this time, your teeth threatening to make your bottom lip bleed when he settles your other leg over his shoulder too, nothing holding him back from you anymore. He takes all of you in with a greedy eyes, his pink tongue darling out to lick his lips when he sees just how much you want this too.

Nothing can prepare you for the first swipe of his flattened tongue between your slick folds, the tip of it catching your clit with just enough pressure for the grip on your sheets to tighten. The butterflies in your rib cage feel like they make their escape in the gasp you let out, his low hum of approval making your toes curl when he does it again.

“So fucking sweet baby, god of course you are.”

He doesn’t waste anymore time testing the waters, his self doubt gone with his self control when your hips roll up asking for more. Steve knows now he’ll never say no to you and he’s not shy with the way he buries his face in your pussy. His tongue laps up everything you give him, like he’s hungry with his nose pressed to your bundle of nerves with enough pressure to make your back arch.

“Ohmygod - Steve.” The moan you let out makes his cock twitch, your fingers reaching down to tangle themselves in his hair, shamelessly pulling him closer. You were better than his dreams.

Your thighs snap closed around his ears after he stops the greedy strokes of his tongue in the tightness of your entrance for his lips to wrap your clit. He sucks with the kind of force that makes your eyes hit the back of your head. His eyebrows marry together when he closes his eyes like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. One of hands leaves the dough of your thighs for his thick index finger to take his tongue's place, collecting the slick from between your folds before pushing one knuckle in.

It makes you gasp a little breathy as your hips push up for more, and he gives it to you, pushing two more knuckles in and you already feel so full. Your walls constrict, fluttering around his single digit like it’s a stretch and he wonders how you’re going to be able to take him. His own hips rut into the mattress in search of some kind of relief while he sets a steady pace between his mouth and his wrist that has you clenching like you’re about to unravel.

“You close baby? Wanna show me how good it feels?” His question comes out sloppy against your mound, all the color in his eyes is gone meeting yours from between your legs blown wide. When he adds a second finger, it slides in with ease making your eyes hit the back of your head, a low moan bubbling past your lips. Your toes curl with his fingers, jaw going slack with his name in your mouth like a prayer and he’s scared you’re going to make him cum in his pants again.

“Just like that, fuck - right there - Steve, Steve, Steeeeeve!” The fingers that are tangled in his hair tug rough, your thighs clamping down hard around his head while your body tries to squirm away to run from the intensity of it all, the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw when he moves his head from side to side drinking in everything you give him.

His hand on your hip locks you in place while you come undone on his tongue and he swears you taste just like sugar when he buries his face in deeper till you whine, pushing on his forehead to stop, overstimulation winning. Heat floods your cheeks when you see the shine from your slick covering the bottom of his lopsided grin when he finally looks up at you.

“So pretty like this,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your shaking thigh.

You cover your face with your hands, the intensity of your first orgasm and the intimacy of it all overwhelms you, the tightness in your chest threatens to become unbearable. The three words sitting at the tip of your tongue beg to come out from between your lips.

Not yet.

He trails sticky kisses up your stomach, making sure to pay special attention to the swell of your breasts, pulling them both together in his big hands to give them equal treatment. Shining lips wrap around your sensitive nipples and it's enough for a new wave of arousal to blossom deep inside your belly, a subtle rock of your hips meeting his when he rolls one between his teeth. Insatiable, just like him.

“Steve,” His name comes out around a sigh, your fingers running up his freckled back before tangling themselves in his hair again, addicted to the softness of it.

“Mmm, tell me what you want.” He looks up at you from under thick lashes, lids heavy, and eyes glossy. He’s wrecked.

“You.” The answer is just as simple as it was outside, it's all you’ve ever wanted. You realize that now. The universe bringing you here to this moment with him. This was it.

“Baby,” he looks at you like he means it, like his whole heart is in your hands now and it has been since the day you moved in he just didn’t know it yet, “I’m yours.”

He moves back up your body, leaving wet kisses across sweat slicked skin making sure to suck at the sensitive spot he found just above your collarbone, smiling when you gasp. He’s not expecting to feel your lips against his jaw, bold and sure of themselves by the time they get to the corner of his mouth, dainty fingers pulling his chin down to collect your kiss.

Your lips move like you can finally relax, like you’re home now and he can feel your heartbeat against his chest. This didn’t feel like just sex.

Your hands run down his sides, grinning into his mouth when he chuckles as the tips of your fingers brush against his ribs, you keep that information locked away another time as you hook them in the elastic band of his shorts. His tongue licks a little dirty into your mouth when you start to pull them down his hips, helping you get them to his knees before kicking them off entirely. The length of him feels heavy against your stomach, and it makes you break away from the kiss but his lips stay attached to you.

Your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he can reach.

The view makes your breath hitch and get stuck in the back of your throat, walls fluttering around nothing when you see just how big he really is. He’s too busy trying to find new places to make you gasp and all you wanna do is look at him.

“Steve” his name comes out around the gasp he was trying so hard to get by sucking a little bruise behind your ear.

He hums against your skin with his eyes closed, drowning in you. Love drunk off of it. The slow sleepiness from the day creeping in as his body molds to the warmth of you.

“I wanna look at you, too.” Your request is quiet against the rough stubble that fades into his neck, and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips.

“Yeah?” His voice is hoarse, nose nudging against your jaw when he brings his gaze back to yours, a smile pulls up the apples of his cheeks, crinkling small lines under his eyes.

“Yeah.” You don’t nod this time.

He holds your eyes in his, needing you to know there’s a double meaning in his words when he brings his palm to your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone.

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

The mattress bounces when Steve flops next to you on his back, the two of you barely fitting on your queen size with his broad shoulders and long legs. He catches the way your eyes grow big when you sit up on your knees and finally get to see all of him. He reaches out for you, sensing your hesitation at his size

“C’mere, baby, we’ll go slow.”

Heat blooms between your legs when you take his hand, your knees finding a home on either side of his hips. He’s thicker than you’d imagined all those nights with your fingers between your thighs. The big vein running up the length of him protrudes like it’s working overtime, while beads of pearly white smear against the rough patch of hair just below his belly button from his light pink tip. Wrapping his hand around the base, he gives himself a pump to relieve some of the ache from seeing you sitting on top of him like this. Soft curves on display in the moonlight, he can’t wait to see them when it breaks daylight.

“Fuck,” He sighs when you settle above him, “you look gorgeous.”

His words make your confidence peak, your hands finding themselves flat against his chest, the blunt ends of your nails drag through the hair there and you spot another cluster of freckles you hadn’t seen before, you wonder if he’ll let you find them all.

“Look who’s talkin’” You tease, making him laugh as you lean up to steal a kiss. The motion has the length of him slide easily between your slick folds, his tip catching your clit before popping out.

“Jesus Christ.” He sighs against your mouth that’s formed in a silent ‘o’, rolling his back up in search for more.

“Steve - you’re so - “ The last of your sentence is stolen by a gasp when you grind down to meet his thrust, the tip of him prodding your entrance before gliding up with just the right amount of pressure to make you both moan.

“I’m so what?” He asks a little smug, arms circling the curve of your waist to pull you closer, dragging you over the length of him again, it makes you shudder in his grasp.

He catches against where you beg for more of him, fluttering around the tip, your walls try to suck him in. A low growl rumbles from his chest when he tries to fit a little more. It’s your hips that roll, and it's just enough for him to push all the way in with a little resistance.

“Goddd,” You whine, feeling the fullest you’ve ever been, your walls stinging, desperately trying to accommodate his size. A low huff exhales through your nose when you sit up straight, letting your nails drag over the beauty marks that litter his stomach before finishing your sentence, “so big.”

“Yeah, but look at you takin’ it.” He groans with pinched brows, eyes transfixed on where he disappears inside of you. Arousal coating the thick thatch of hair that frames him, wetting his lips as he watches the way you grind your clit against it letting him fill you to the hilt. “So good for me baby, so beautiful, - fuck! - so gorgeous.”

His praise has you clenching around him, your mouth falling open when you feel him twitch because of it. His big hands find the tops of your thighs, the pads of his fingers leaving fires in their wake while making their way to your hips. He squeezes softly when he gets there, guiding your lazy thrusts before searching for your hands.

You watch him intertwine your fingers with curious eyes, his gaze transfixed on yours as he holds them at your sides, rolling his hips up to push even deeper.

“Oh god,” He does it again only this time if feels like there’s nowhere else for him to fit and it makes your eyes screw shut, “ohmyfuckinggod - Steeeve!”

“Right there? Yeah? Is that it?” He grunts trying to repeat it and your hands squeeze his in an iron grip. “Come on baby, I need to see you.”

It’s hard to open your eyes, the slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is almost overwhelming. Connected to him in a way that is going to change you forever. The pad of his thumb rubs soft on the top of your hand, bringing you back to him.

“You’re eyes are too pretty to be keepin’ them from me.” He smiles when you finally meet his gaze and it’s enough to punch the air out of your lungs.

“I love you.” The three words slip past your kiss bitten lips before you can even think long enough to stop them and it makes everything come to a standstill.

“What’d you just say?” Steve’s voice is quiet, something unrecognizable in his tone that makes all your nerves come back like they never left.

“I - I -“ the harsh sting of rejection is written all over your face and the feeling of you trying to untangle your hands snaps him back to reality. To you.

“Hey, hey, hey, no honey.” He doesn’t let you go, squeezing till his knuckles turn white “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right, because I’ve been wanting to say that to you since the fourth of July.”

You light up for him in a way he’s never seen before and he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.

“Really?” You whisper a little shy, your own smile becoming uncontainable.

He lets your hands go to wrap his arms back around your waist, sitting up as he pulls you with him on his lap. Chest to chest with his back against your headboard, you’re even closer to him like this. The new position has him impossibly deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix making you keen pretty.

“Yeah, really.” He sighs, wishing he had gotten to say it first.

One arm keeps you close while the other wraps around your back, the warmth of his palm spreading wide across it. The stray hair that you missed more than you realized falls over his forehead and there’s nothing stopping you from pushing it back. Fingernails dragging through his soft hair, making his eyes close until he feels the slow drag of your hips spurring him on.

He doesn’t hesitate to pick up the pace, especially when your arms wrap around his neck and he feels your hardened nipples against chest. The new angle has his thrusts hitting the spot inside of you no one else has ever been able to find, the one you almost didn’t think existed. The tip of him catches it again and again.

The sound of your slick fills the quiet of your room, growing louder with every roll of your hips that connect with his. The light sheen of sweat that coats both of you has you sliding against his thighs, the cool air from the A/C doing nothing as the two of you get lost like this.

Your second orgasm builds at the same time your body starts to slump against his, your muscles screaming at you for a break.

“Getting close, huh?” He asks, with a forehead pressed to yours, lips teasing but never touching with each thrust.

All you can do is nod, your eyes not daring to leave his again. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried, a hazel forest turned night, you never wanted to leave the depths of them.

“So good for me, let go pretty baby, I got you. Let me do all the work.” He picks up his pace, pushing deeper in with every roll of his hips, feeling the way you squeeze around him while your body starts to shake, the high you’d been chasing threatening to take you.

Holding your gaze, the hand on your back slides up the dip of your spine, curling around the back of your neck. He closes the last bit of space, pulling you to his lips. It’s sloppy and sweet, neither one of you trying to deepen it, just enjoying the way you move together like it was supposed to be like this forever.

“Fuck- I love you so much it scares me.” Steve admits when he pulls away, his confession is the last straw that sends you over the edge. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes when you cum hard around him for the second time.

Your fingers tangle his hair, crashing your lips into his with tear stained cheeks and he can feel everything you put inside of it just for him. It’s enough to finally let himself unravel for the first time in years with a loud moan and his face buried in your neck.

It warms deep in your gut when he spills inside of you, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your thighs shake clinging to him, both of you too scared to let go in the irrational fear that you’ll just wake up from a really good dream. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your skin, your nails finding their way to his scalp. He hums against you when you kiss his temple, nuzzling deeper until you feel his lips against the underside of your jaw.

The two of you sit there like this in a mess of tangled limbs. Sweet kisses and even sweeter words all spoken just barely above a whisper until he’s soft enough to slide out on his own. He takes his time cleaning you up after with giant hands that treat you like glass.

It’s like muscle memory the way he pulls you to his chest under the covers, like this isn’t your first sleepover. The tip of his nose runs along the length of yours with shining eyes and an even brighter smile, kissing you softly with another whispered “you’re so beautiful”.

Streams of sunshine break through your blinds when the two of you finally settle in, buried deep in his arms surrounded by the lingering scent of pine and him, the sounds of his even breathing are enough for you to give into your heavy lids.

It’s only when you’re on the verge of dreams you’re sure will be filled with him that you hear it:

“I love you, tough girl.”

🌇 -> epilogue

beta’d by @chechelia & dividers by @chechelia

(thank you for everything cece ♥️ and a special thank you to @superblysubpar for betaing the first half of this series, i love you both dearly. & also @carolmunson for always talking to me about our boys, and helping me make this world a little bigger ♥️ ily)

#my writing #all i really want is you series #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harringont series

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jen-with-a-pen · 3 months

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❀ 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆 – 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ❀

❀ SUMMARY ❀ Ooey-gooey, fluffy snapshots looking into the lives of one Bucky Barnes and Honeysuckle, who have more chemistry than the experiments in Bruce Banner'e lab. Everyone else knows it... except them. It's not without a little help– from Sam 'Certified Wingman' Wilson– do Bucky and Honey begin to realize and figure out their feelings for one another.

❀ PAIRINGS ❀ Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

❀ WARNINGS ❀ Tooth-rotting fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, idiots in love, everyone knows they like each other except them, Avengers live in the Tower, Sam Wilson is a good wingman, touching, mutual pining, domestic avengers, maybe like a tad angst but not much, softness, mild to moderate language (includes cursing), lots of feel-good feelings, no use of y/n, no description of y/n besides maybe outfits but it's still vague

Read this fic on AO3!

header + warning banner by me ❤ dividers by @saradika-graphics

This series is nonlinear and each part can be read separately!

Spam liking will result in an automatic block!

❀ I – The "Not-Date" Date

❀ II – Another Time

❀ III – Sunset Spot

❀ IV – Think Pink

❀ V ❀ VI ❀ VII

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sentientsliotar · 5 months

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”when did you two become an old married couple?”

-Luke realising what Percy won’t for several more seasons.

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starliteonearth · 28 days

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There's two wolves inside of me: one wants the simmering agonizing multi-season slowburn that will make Ghoulcy finally getting together oh so delicious and the other wants the instant gratification of them hooking up, getting down and nasty, right in season 2

#the true struggle of man fr 😔#like i really don't know what i want 😭😭#i love me a good slowburn i really do #but i don't know if my heart can take it #ive been through some beatings with other ships #my roman empires #i'm not built for the long game anymore 😫#ghoulcy #vaultghoul #lucy x cooper #lucy x the ghoul #cooper x lucy #lucy maclean #the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout show #fallout tv series

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cienfleurx · 3 months

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𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄. ⁰⁰¹

✑ GENRE: slowburn. angst. nsfw 18+.

✑ WARNING: explicit language. mature themes. topics of violence and murder. stockholm syndrome (not the reader). sexual tension if you squint. reader is an executive. other bonten stuff. strictly mdni.

✑ SYNOPSIS: platonic love is a type of love that is neither sexual nor romantic; something that the executives have been feeling towards you for the past few years - or so they would like to believe.

(📂) ⇢ masterlist. 〡 (📂) ⇢ next chapter.

CHAPTER ONE | PLATONIC LOVE.

“No, because I’m gonna kill your fucking whore if you don’t give him to me!”

First thing in the morning and it was already a mess.

“Let’s just hope Boss gets here early.” one of the them muttered, as they heard another gunshot followed by the sound of what was most likely an ancient vase shattering. Poor Takeomi, he'll be furious to see his million-dollar vase broken into pieces by the four executives wreaking havoc on the first-floor corridors.

The majority of the personnel in the lobby couldn't help but sigh as they witnessed the present predicament occurring at the headquarters. It was just another day, another round of chaos from the foolish executives who had been attempting to murder each other for the nth time in the preceding years. Supposedly, these individuals were the said top dogs of the syndicate, but seeing all of this happen before their very own eyes had them doubting at the back of their mind, but not to the point of questioning their position as higher-ups.

The reason? Peluda, your Foldie Cat, had been kidnapped by the Bonten Trio yet again, as you chased their tails with a loaded Glock; a sight that did not even surprise them anymore.

“You.” the receptionist flinched when all of a sudden, you called for his attention, his Adams apple bobbing from your nerve-wrecking presence. You darted a glare at him as you motioned your head. “Get that fucking woman here. I’ll sample that son of a bitch why he should never mess with me.”

Sanzu came to a halt as he heard the command. Ran and Rindou, who had been tossing the Foldie Cat back and forth, are in the same boat. His emerald eyes fixated at the receptionist, glowering at his trembling frame when he caught sight of his movement ready to leave as if he was about to heed the woman's order.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You heard me.” you taunted the man, heading towards him with the cold metallic weapon in your grip. “I’ll bury a bullet on your head if you hesitate once more.”

“Goddamn chill, woman. Mikey will be furious if you touch Himari.” Ran tried to alleviate the tension, but you only shot him a look, positioning the pistol towards his direction.

“Shit wouldn’t happen if you just give him back to me.” you spat.

Rindou rolled his eyes, plopping down the fluffy cat on the floor as its furry self rushed towards you, its paws trotting fast away from the devils that made him undergone the worst traumatic experience so far in order to rest in your arms, its quivering figure calming down a little when you stroke the base of its ears. “Okay, fine. Geez, can't even take a joke.”

You snarled at him, firing a bullet close enough to graze his cheek.

“Fuck!”

“Your dick is coming next if you fuck with me again.”

“No shit sherlock. This is why cats are the only bitches you have.” Rindou retorted, causing Sanzu and Ran to laugh like maniacs when your face contorted into some sort of displeasure before retreating into the endless corridors.

Truly, the executives couldn't go a day without feeling the satisfaction of holding your suffering in their hands.

Shit has been too hard ever since you became one of the notorious executives in Bonten; it didn't help that these jackasses were always picking on you, making you almost regret taking the title that Sano Manjiro had bestowed on you. They made it a thing to annoy you on a daily basis. Either with the ultimate love of your life being thrown in the air; the ball of sunshine disguised as cats, or with the set of difficult tasks they assigned to you, which almost led to a meeting with the grim reaper if it weren’t for luck backing you up.

Not once did they leave your presence alone; always treating you as if you were a toy who amused them each time you retaliated with your renowned Glock 19 in the clutch, and bothering you every day until all you see is red, firing bullets in the corridor until Takeomi scolds you for damaging his invaluable porcelains.

However, despite the escapades and monkey tricks that they been pulling so far, best believe that there was not an actual bad blood happening between the both of you. This is just a daily occurrence of how the executives showed their love on one another. You, pointing their gun to them, while they made a run for it. You, threatening their lives, while they indulge in the satisfaction at the sound of your furious clicking heels stomping hard against the glistening marbles.

Surely, things would have been easy if only there were a bunch of Kakucho roaming around the organization, or if the other executives shared the same build as him — respectful, well-mannered, and real mature. He was one of the few gentleman who is courteous to women like you despite being a notorious criminal, and he earned your respect for that.

Just like right now, Kakucho Hitto was being a huge help and you couldn’t be anymore thankful to him for existing in this embodiment pit of hell.

“God. That’s the spot, Kaku. Push it more right there.” you groaned at the feeling of his thumb pressed against your shoulder blades, giving your tense muscle a light squeeze now and then as you relished under his massage. Today was one of those days when you and the navy-haired shared paperwork in his office, and as usual, Kakucho would lend a helping hand by massaging your stressed shoulder after too much documentation processing. Didn’t even help the fact when he found you worn-out in his doorstep, knowing the mess that you had probably just encountered with the Bonten Trio, Kakucho knew that you badly needed some relief over your exhaustion.

“Did I do it right?”

“Yeah. Just squeeze it like that.”

Kakucho did what you told, and you couldn’t help but hum.

“What the actual fuck.” Kokonoi exclaimed under his breath, eyes judgy at the scene playing in front of him. “For a second, I thought you guys are doing the thing.”

Kakucho blushed, because he too, agreed that when you moan like that, it sound like he was pleasuring you.

“Shut the fuck up, Hajime.”

“Can’t blame me. You just fucking moan, alright. Moan.”

“Moans doesn’t always need to be sexual.” you grumbled.

“Whatever. Kakucho,” Kokonoi called out the navy-haired who seemed to be in a trance until the following words of the silver-haired reached his ears. “Himari’s in Sanzu’s office. You joining?”

You inaudibly sighed at what Kokonoi meant.

So, they were at it again.

Himari Ukishima; the poor woman you had threatened to take life earlier was out there, in Sanzu’s office yet again to pleasure all these executives’ dick.

The woman wasn’t even a whore to begin with. Mikey just found her enticing enough when he passed by a university, and decided to let the Bonten Trio kidnapped her and took her into the headquarters, and she’s been here for what? Almost a year now? Fucking and taking care of their cocks like the good girl she was.

She was basically a girl what the executives wanted; someone they wanted to corrupt and strip off their innocence, and they were no doubt successful from it. It’s Bonten — the worst criminal organization in Japan, what can you say? They fucked her dumb enough for her to develop Stockhold Syndrome. Crazy, you must say. She was one of those victims of their sensual gratification who had fallen deep into the lion’s den to bother escape or even ask for you help, which didn’t surprise you anymore as you think she’s also enjoying the feeling of five cocks in her body whenever you heard her pleas and whines.

“Quiet down, or I won’t hold back putting a bullet through her brain this time.”

You threatened, yet Kokonoi merely let out a smug grin, crossing his arms. The type of woman you are; all bark and no bite. He knew you would never do that. Himari Ukishima is Mikey's most-prized possession. Killing her means defying him, and you weren't one to disobey his orders.

Despite portraying the cold demeanor, Kokonoi knows how much of an obedient woman you are to Mikey.

He was your King; much like to how Sanzu worships him.

“Jealous cause you got no bitches?”

You scowled, growing tired of their old joke of teasing how you got no men to pleasure you. “What’s with you and the others flocking over my bitches?”

Sure, there were some of them, particularly from the clubs you own, though they weren’t like like Himari who had remained the longest period with them. Your sex drive was crazy; no man was able to withstand it and had always been the first one to pass out of consciousness before you could. Therefore, as naturally as you would, you had them dispose and let it be a memory of a one-night stand instead of keeping them by your side.

However, Bonten would like to think you were just bore in bed that’s why you have no whores in your side. Little did they know, though.

“Well, maybe if you find a man who can last with you then we can stop. Though, I doubt you can find anyone as good as us.”

You raised a brow, intrigued.

"You implyin' something, Hajime?"

He hummed, something within his eyes flashing an emotion you couldn’t quite recognize in your years of being so-called friends.

Instead of responding, Kokonoi only brushed off the question with his right hand, leaving you on Kakucho's office to think if he actually meant something behind his words or he was just messing around with you to rattle your emotions — well, that is, until one by one, you heard sinful groans, whines, and skin slapping from the office next door that made you bury your face on your palms, damn interrupted from thinking and even working from the paper works.

"Stupid fucks, I told them to quiet down."

✑ NOTE: let me know if you wanted to be added on my taglist ! <3

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thepenultimateword · 6 days

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The Worst Kind of Medal

The war had left more scars on the nation than it had Umbra’s body, so she wasn’t surprised that the airship came in 6 hours later than the schedule had claimed. She was more surprised that she was still standing on the platform, bold-lettered sign locked in her fists at either corner, when it arrived. No one had told her she needed to be at the port when Prince Waylon arrived in Graybourne, only that he was to be her lifelong charge forever after. She probably should have left a soldier here in her place and enjoyed her last few hours of freedom at home.

A bit of guilt pricked her insides. That was unfair. No one had forced her into this marriage arrangement. She’d accepted it–maybe only for the promises that came along with it, but still an acceptance. If she was uncomfortable now, it was her fault.

Several men leaped from the ship deck, ropes coiled under their arms. They rushed to knot the tethers to the docking posts as their feet touched the ground. It was complicated to get a ship back in the air once grounded, so most docks were constructed on cliff faces or in Greybourne’s case on towers. This allowed the ship to remain airborne yet steady for boarding and exiting; the same went for inspections and refueling. The only real reason for a ship to land was in case of major repairs.

The plank dropped, and a surge of people rushed onto the platform. Umbra scanned the crowd, with rapid scrutiny. She wished she’d asked for a photograph of her potential husband before the royal family shipped him here. The monarch probably wouldn’t grant her another reward if she lost him on the very first day.

“Ser Umbra!”

Her gaze shot to the deck where a man with long silvery hair braided crownlike around his forehead and then draped loosely over one shoulder waved over the crowd. Another man, hair-slicked and face creased with a long-suffering frown, reached out to grab him, but the prince was already bounding down the plank. He was more petite than she had expected, his head bobbing in and out of sight as he weaved clumsily through the crowd, bumping shoulders every few steps. As he darted around the last mozying couple, he nearly barreled straight into her chest, but he managed to catch himself just short, tipping up onto his toes in the process.

“Ser Umbra,” he repeated, panting up at her with a broad smile. “I-it’s really you! You came yourself! I really wasn’t expecting to see you straight off the ship! Ryann told me I probably wouldn’t see you until tomorrow morning because of your duties!”

Umbra blinked at him. Her heart felt like it had been seized and clutched hard in her chest.

She’d wondered why the King had suggested Prince Waylon as her groom. It had seemed a very quick choice. She’d figured it was because he was fifth in line for the throne—the royal family wouldn’t marry a soldier to someone who could one day take the crown, no matter how much she’d done for her country. Now, looking at his peeking canines, golden eyes, and long, curling tail, it was abundantly clear this had been a careful act of strategy.

King Esmond had never been shy about taking wives, and as a result, many of his children came from foreign royalty, a way of securing many alliances at once. Not so with the Auskeran princess. Umbra had not yet been born when the marriage took place, but everyone knew that was where the tensions between the two countries had started. With the princess's death.

But now, with the war ended and Auskeran firmly independent from the rest of the world, no foreign alliances were waiting for a half-Auskerian prince. And keeping him around the capital was a liability in itself. His very appearance was a reminder of the recent horrors and a symbol of shame to the King. But he was still of royal blood, and banishments–no matter how merciful–had a habit of coming back to bite. So what did they do? They gave him to a local. Someone high enough to merit such a match but low enough that she couldn’t refuse. Someone who would take all the perks of having a royal spouse as appeasement for the inconvenience of his half-bloodedness.

Still, they had to have known her feelings about such a thing. The war had not ended so many months ago that an Auskerian, even half of one, didn’t bother her. Perhaps that was the very reason they’d said nothing. They wouldn’t want to risk her denial.

“How did you know what I look like?” Umbra said, forcing her clenched jaw apart. He’d picked her out from the crowd on sight. He couldn’t have seen the sign from that distance, could he?

The prince flushed a little. “Father showed me a photograph of the Greybourne division as soon as he told me about the marriage arrangement. He said you’re a general of high standing. You held the eastern front steady for two years before scouting over the border. You won us the war practically singlehanded!”

Umbra was about to explain that it was far more complex than that but Prince Waylon carried on without pause.

“And to think, of all the prestigious matches you could have received, Father chose me! I’ve been showing that photo to everyone for the last month! But it got sort of crumpled from carrying it around too much, so my sister painted your portrait for me as a wedding gift. See?”

He pried open the locket around his neck and leaned forward to show her a very accurate, stoic miniature of her own face. She was dressed in her military uniform, her medal of honor–a medal that she’d really only worn twice, once when it was bestowed and again for a newspaper photo–pinned bold and gleaming to her chest.

“She made one for you too, here!” He fished into his breast pocket and held out a matching bronze locket by its chain.

Umbra watched it swing for a couple moments before she tentatively accepted it. “I, um…” He was staring at her so expectantly what was she supposed to do? She slipped the chain over her head, and the locket settled in the hollow of her chest. “Thank you.”

He continued to stare. Gaze flicking to the locket and back to her face again. He definitely wasn’t subtle.

She picked open the latch and looked vaguely at the companion miniature. “Ah.”

It wasn’t much of a reaction but the prince immediately pounced on it.

“I hope it's ok. I wanted it to be more interesting or at least be smiling, but Isabeau said portraits are supposed to be serious. I’m lucky she let me be as expressive as that.”

“No, no, it’s very nice,” Umbra said. Lied. She hadn’t even noticed whether the portrait had been straight-faced or smiling. She should probably be more excited, or at least appreciative. Princess Isabeau was supposedly a real artistic talent—from the accuracy of her own portrait she had to agree—and her skill mixed with her status, made her paintings some of the most saught after in the kingdom. Now she had one around her neck and she couldn’t even give it a proper enough to look to give a specific detail of praise.

Luckily, Prince Waylon took her words at face value. He noticeably relaxed, and she snapped the locket shut again.

“Prince Waylon!” The other man from the ship shoved out from the crowd, a little more disheveled than he’d been moments ago and lugging two large suitcases. He let the cases drop heavily to the planks and tugged sharply on the ends of his black suit. “A member of the royal family does not fly off like that! You must conduct yourself with decorum! And that means staying with your escort!”

“I was with Ser Umbra, so it was fine,” Prince Waylon said.

The man’s attention flicked toward her, scanning her up and down with an unimpressed expression. As an employee to the royal family why would he be?

“This is Ryann, my escort to Greybourne,” Prince Waylon said. “He’s supposed to return to Ashborough once he sees me settled.

“Ser,” Ryann said with a short bow. “Unfortunately, the royal officiant was delayed, so the wedding will have to be postponed at least a couple weeks. I’m to stay until that point to be another witness.”

Great. The last thing she wanted was time to start overthinking things. She’d wanted this done as quickly as possible. And now, with the prince’s Auskerian features to unsettle her, she wanted it done even faster.

“You both must be tired,” she said, hefting up one of the suitcases. “My car is at the base of the tower. I’ll take you to the house so you can rest.”

“Oh, I’m not that tired–” Waylon began

“You drive?” Ryann interrupted as he grabbed the remaining case. “You don’t have a chauffeur?”

“I have drivers,” Umbra clarified. “For shopping and other errands. I simply prefer the autonomy of driving myself. Don’t worry, I don’t expect Prince Waylon to get along without a chauffeur.”

“Oh, maybe I could learn too?”

“Absolutely not,” Ryann snapped. “You’ll get yourself killed. Besides, who ever heard of royalty driving themselves? You’re not one of the working class.”

Umbra started down the first tower ramp, letting them fall into step beside her. Should she say something? Tell the prince he could try driving if he liked? But her drivers didn’t have time to keep an eye on him and she hadn’t planned on engaging in any extra responsibilities. She also didn’t think there was much point in ruffling the escort further. So she remained quiet.

Prince Waylon didn’t seem to take the denial too hard. He chatted a bit on the way down, pointing out the landscape and buildings as they went. Umbra nodded along, but didn’t listen much; she was more focused on the many glances the prince received from passersby, ranging from curiosity to outright disgust. Ryann must have been aware as well because he kept a protective hand on the prince’s arm the entire way down.

The car waited at the curb for them. A sleek green thing with three steam valves that she’d purchased shortly after the war’s end. It was easier traveling back and forth to the military headquarters this way.

“Here we are.” Umbra popped the door to the trunk, putting away the first suitcase and then taking the second from Ryann.

The escort dusted off his hands, as if the meanialness of the task were a visible smudge on his station. He then stepped back to survey the car’s body. “This is a handsome vehicle.”

Umbra expected it was one of the only words of praise she was going to receive during his stay, but she still couldn’t find it in herself to use it to her advantage. “It does the job.”

“Ser Umbra, can I sit up front with you?” Prince Waylon chirped from the side.

“You’re not going to address me as Ser Umbra our entire marriage, are you?”

His face washed a hot pink. “I wasn’t sure what you preferred.”

“You’re not a part of my regiment. Umbra is fine.”

“Then I’m just Waylon.” He smiled. A sweet, bright-eyed expression that made Umbra’s insides churn like someone was trying to turn them inside out. The officator had better get there fast.

She nodded curtly and circled around to the passenger door, holding it for him as he picked up the ends of his traveling cloak and slid inside. As she closed it behind him, she caught a glimpse of Ryann’s expression before he entered the backseat. Silent approval. Seemed she’d passed whatever test the employee had in mind for vehicle etiquette. She wasn’t look forward to any similar tests. Her rise in the military had granted her a title and a fortune, but she certainly could claim to be as well-bred as anyone in the royal court. Which for many was a sin in itself.

The drive from the port to her small estate lasted only 20 minutes and was mainly quiet. Waylon ooed at every street and building they passed. Umbra couldn’t imagine anything here in Greybourne, a city on the very edge of the kingdom, could surpass Ashborough in all its capital glory. Perhaps he was only trying to be polite. However, as they pulled up the lane to the estate, his nose was almost pressed to the glass.

“It’s beautiful!”

Now Umbra knew he was being polite. The estate was a sturdy, grey-stoned building with two stories and several acres of surrounding meadow. A garage hid humbly and strategically around the back so as not to ruin the aesthetic view of the front or boast the ownership of two cars. It may have been larger than many of the other homes in Graybourne, and yes, it was rather pretty in the golden hour of evening, but it was nothing compared to the manors in Ashborough let alone the palace. Umbra had been dragged into several parties and ceremonies in the capital after the war’s official end, and extravagant was an understatement.

Waylon clutched his locket and mumbled under his breath. “It’s like a dream.”

A dream? What did princes have to dream about?

Umbra circled the drive and parked directly in front of the large oak front doors. Arlin and Madeline must have been watching from inside–she was impressed they stayed at the ready for the entire 6 hours she had been gone–because they rushed out the front the moment she stepped out of the vehicle.

Arlin opened the passenger door before Umbra could make her way fully around, but to his credit, his surprise only lasted a moment. Raised eyebrows shot back down, parted lips promptly pinned shut, and he bowed his head as Waylon stepped down to the gravel drive.

“Your majesty,” Arlin said, then moved on to Ryann’s door.

In the meantime, Madeline had made quick work of unloading the luggage. The bags seemed oversized compared to her small frame, but she showed no struggle as she carried them around. Her reaction to the prince showed more in an exchange of glances with Arlin than a change of expression.

“Welcome back, Miss,” she said, “we were beginning to worry something had gone wrong.”

“Just a slight delay in the ship’s arrival,” Umbra said, passing the car keys to Arlin, who promptly took the car around to the garage. “Madeline, will you show the prince and his escort to their rooms? They’ve had a long trip, and it’s getting late.”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll let Henrietta and the others know that dinner will be served in the guests’ rooms tonight.”

“Thank you. Only tea for me tonight. Please have it brought to my office.” She didn’t think she could stomach anything else tonight. Maybe a cup of tea would settle some of her more turbulent emotions.

“Oh, Ser– I mean, Umbra,” Waylon said, the end of his tail flicking eagerly. “I’m really not tired, and I’d love to see more of the estate, and talk to you more. Maybe we can go for a walk–that meadow back there looks promising–and I can tell you–”

“My prince,” Ryann said firmly. The prince jolted, looking at Ryann with wide eyes. The escort gave him a subtle shake of his head.

Waylon looked down at the gravel, ears going slightly pink. “My apologies Ser Umbra. I overexcited.”

Oh no, she needed to say something didn’t she? Something smart and smooth that saved the prince’s feelings without backing down from her preference for a quiet night. She hated hosting. She especially the politics that came with it.

“I’d be happy to show you around the grounds tomorrow,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound forced. “The sun is about to go down soon and the view can’t be appreciated so well in the dark. Besides the meadow is riddled with rabbit holes; I wouldn’t want you to misstep and break an ankle.”

“Ah.” He raised his eyes toward her. Luminescence crept in at the corners. Once the sun had gone completely down, those eyes would be completely aglow. “That would be unfortunate. I…look forward to tomorrow then.” It was hard to read whether he believed her. His gaze showed some relief, but the wrap of his tail around his leg still spoke to some embarrassment. Nevertheless, some of his old exuberance slipped through the cracks in his politeness. “It was a joy–no, an honor–to begin making your acquaintance.”

Umbra forced eye contact until he turned away, prompted toward the house by Madeline’s beckoning. A cold feeling had lodged itself in the middle of her chest.

She hoped the officiator would come fast.

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