#「 answers 」 — ❛ it's not always what you want to hear. ❜

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an “yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[mariasont]

Laced With Love - A.H

summary: while hotch is away on a case, you do nothing but shop, and when hotch insists you use his card who are you to disobey him? especially when what you buy benefits the both of you

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader spending hotch's money (it's giving sugar daddy af), so much teasing, fingering, oral fem receiving, hotch worshipping reader, some inappropriate comments made in front of morgan accidentally, they both just completely forget about dinner and don't mention so ya know my bad, dirty talk, soft dom hotchy poo

wc: 3.5k

You had a little problem.

It all started innocently enough: one coffee to-go, a quick window shop in your favorite boutique, and somehow that led to you walking out with a bag containing the most adorable pair of heels that you couldn't leave behind. Then it snowballed—another store, another bag. A perfume counter. A cute sweater that was on sale, and, well, that one really didn't count because it was practical. It was warm. Functional, even.

Okay maybe you had a big problem.

But it wasn't until your phone buzzed in your bag, pulling you out of a deep debate over whether you needed the floral dress you were holding, that you realized just how many bags were hanging off your arms.

Mr. Bossman flashed across the screen.

The name was completely ridiculous (and more than a little outdated now that he was your boyfriend), but it fit in a weird, nostalgic way. He'd been away on one of those long-distance cases, the kind where you weren't needed, and you'd been counting the days (and minutes) until he'd call. 

You grabbed your phone so fast you almost dropped the dress.

"Hi!" you answered, a little too quickly, your voice so giddy and sugar-sweet it could've given you a toothache. He always teased you for it, but right now you didn't care.

"Hi." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges with exhaustion. "Just wanted to call and let you know I'll be home tonight."

Your heart practically leapt at his words. "Really? Finally! I thought I was going to shrivel up and die from boredom without you here. Okay, maybe not die, but like... what's the point of anything if you're not home to tell me I bought too many candles?"

"I'm not sure how you've lasted this long," he said. "Should I be worried about the state of the house? Or your bank account?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all, if you are so worried, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone for that long. Ever thought of that, Mr?"

His laugh came through the line, short and deep, and it hit you square in the chest. You closed your eyes, leaning into the sound like it could somehow bring him closer. You could see him so clearly--the way his face softened in a way that made him look ten years younger, the way his shoulders would drop, the way his eyes would crinkle. You missed him so much it hurt.

"Poor thing," he teased, still chuckling softly. "What's a girl to do when I'm not there entertain her? Besides spend my money, I mean."

"Don't worry, Aaron, your money is perfectly safe. My super respectable paycheck—you know, the one you sign—is covering me today."

"Hmm," he said, his voice still muffled. "Sounds like your boss is paying you too much."

"I don't know... I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering I keep you very taken care of. Would you like me to prove it later?"

"Hotch, tell me I did not just hear that."

You froze mid-breath, your hand flying to cover your mouth as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. That was Morgan’s voice. Morgan. You felt like a cartoon character with steam pouring out of your ears as your face burned red hot.

A nervous little squeak escaped you just as you heard Aaron fumbling with the phone, his voice clipped as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. There was a muffled shuffle, the sound of a door shutting, and finally, the blessed beep that meant he’d taken you off speaker.

"Christ, honey."

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks still burning as you tried to decide if you should laugh, cry, or maybe just dig yourself a hole and live there forever.

"So," you said, hesitating for a beat, "scale of one to ten, how dead am I? Should I preemptively file an HR complaint against myself, or just let Morgan handle my inevitable downfall?”

You heard him exhale sharply, the creak of a chair following as you pictured him leaning back with that half-smile he always gave when he was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“It’s fine. It’s a little embarrassing, sure. But nothing Morgan hasn’t done to himself ten times worse. He’ll give you a hard time for a day or so, Garcia will laugh, and then they’ll let it go.”

There was brief pause, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That being said, maybe think twice before making explicit promises while I’m at work, honey.”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the shopping bag in your hand as you toyed with the strap absentmindedly.

"I mean, it's only fair I keep my promise now," you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "It's the least I can do."

You heard a faint sound in the background—maybe him clearing his throat—before his voice dropped an octave. "You're already on thin ice today. Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on."

You let out a little huff, batting your lashes instinctively even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

"I don't know why you're doubting me, Mr. Hotchner. You should know I'm very serious about keeping my promises."

"You know, you're not making this easy on me, " Aaron muttered, his voice low and gruff. You could hear a faint groan, followed by what sounded like pacing on the other end. "Alright, I've really got to go now. Behave yourself. And how about you use my card for the rest of the shopping trip?"

"No, Aaron, I can't!" you said quickly, shaking your head as if he could see you. "You'd never trust me again with your card after the damage I'd do. Besides, you're already going to be shaking your head when you see what I got with my own money."

Aaron sighed, his voice going into that low, authoritative tone that always made your stomach flip.

"You will use the card." There was no room for argument in his words. "I want you to. End of discussion."

And just like that, the call ended with a click. You stared at the screen for a moment as if it might magically reopen the call so could argue your case one more time. But, of course, that didn't happen.

He’d told you to use his card—he demanded it, actually—but your fingers still hesitated, clutching the little piece of plastic like it was about to bite you.

You glanced at the white lace lingerie folded neatly on the counter, the delicate fabric practically winking at you. It wasn’t just pretty—it was the kind of perfect that made your heart flutter. Normally, you’d talk yourself out of something so indulgent, but this time? Well, Aaron had practically begged you to buy something… and you couldn’t think of a better way to treat both of you.

You only hesitated for the briefest moment before swiping his card, your heart doing a little flip as the cashier folded the lingerie into tissue paper with careful hands. It felt like a tiny secret between you and Aaron—a very fun secret.

By the time you got home, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and you knew you had some time before Aaron made it back. He always gave you a pretty reliable ETA. It was the perks of dating someone so anal.

You lugged your shopping bags up to the bedroom, your arms aching a little, but in the best way possible. Once in the bedroom, you started unpacking everything like it was Christmas morning. Dresses went in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly, and you stashed the receipts in the nightstand just in case Aaron did ask how much damage you'd done.

Then you pulled out the piece—the one you'd bought with him in mind. The silk felt decadent under your fingertips, and the delicate lace was almost too beautiful to wear. Almost. It fit like a glove, hugging every inch of you like it had been tailored specifically for this moment. 

Feeling pleased with yourself, you made your way to the kitchen and slipped into your favorite frilly apron, tying the bow neatly at the back. Cooking wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were determined to make this work. Pasta seemed foolproof enough (right?), and you threw together a salad and garlic bread for good measure. By some miracle, nothing caught on fire, and the kitchen actually smelled amazing.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes. When you finally heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, you glanced over your shoulder, heart skipping a beat.

"Hi honey!" you called sweetly, pretending as if standing in the kitchen wearing practically nothing was the most common thing in the world.

Aaron stepped inside, the door clicking behind him, but the second his eyes landed on you, he froze. His tie was loosened, his sleeves slightly wrinkled, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. But none of that mattered now—he stood there like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You smiled at him, slow and innocent, brushing your hands lightly against the counter. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sweetheart..." His voice was deeper than usual, strained and almost ragged, like he was trying to pull himself together and failing miserably.

"Yes?" you replied, acting as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes were glued to you while you turned off the burner and set the pan aside.

"What..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his gaze dragged down your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your ass. "What are you wearing?"

You turned to face him fully, the delicate lace tugging just slightly as you moved, drawing his eyes lower without him even realizing it.

"Oh this?" you said, gesturing vaguely to the piece. "It's just something I picked up today. You told me to use your card, so I thought I'd get something you'd like."

His jaw tightened, eyes scanning you slowly before lingering on the pink bows peeking out over the apron. "You used my card on this?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, your hands gliding down the soft lace as you took a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. "I figured it was an investment. You know, for both of us."

Aaron groaned, low and frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second before letting his hand drop.

“Using my card for this…” His voice was rough as he closed the space between you in one long stride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his voice dipped lower. “Was the one thing you’ve done right today. Now take this off—slowly, sweetheart—and let me see exactly what I bought.”

He pinched at the bow on your apron, his fingers tugging lightly, but you stepped back just enough to be out of his immediate reach.

“If you were that eager to see what I bought,” you teased, your fingertips grazing one of the straps of the apron, “maybe you shouldn’t have left me waiting so long.”

You slipped one strap off your shoulder, letting it fall halfway, then paused, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to come closer.

"Trying on pretty things, waiting for me to come home—must've been absolutely draining," Aaron shook his head slowly.

You pouted at him, pushing your bottom lip out just enough to make his eyes soften. He chuckled quietly, stepping closer until his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

 "But you know what? I missed you too. And seeing you like this... makes being away feel like torture."

Your pout melted into a glowing smile as your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his shirt.

“You mean it? You really missed me?”

"Of course I did." His hands cupped your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His other hand moved slowly to the bow at your waist, pulling the knot loose with an easy tug. "Now, angel, let me see what else I've been missing."

The apron slipped to the ground, forgotten, as Aaron’s eyes locked onto you. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable except for the slight parting of his lips, like he’d been robbed of air.

His gaze traveled over you like a slow caress, taking in the way the lace hugged your curves, teasing him with everything it didn’t quite cover. His eyes lingered on your chest, where the sheer fabric exposed the peaks of your nipples, and you caught the subtle hitch in his breath as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly.

You tilted your head, letting your expression soften into something sweetly innocent as you leaned back against the counter. The lace shifted with the movement, exposing just enough to make his jaw tighten. Then, just for a second, you parted your legs, catching his sharp inhale as you gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

When he realized what wasn't under the lace, his eyes snapped back up to yours. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, hands sliding over your thighs until they rested just above your knees.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heart skipping several beats as you stared down at him. You hadn't expected this. Not the way his knees hit the floor like it was second nature, not the way his palms spread wide against your skin, thumb brushing over the curve of your inner thighs as he looked up to you.

He must be exhausted, that was your only explanation. But then his hands pressed harder into your thighs, and the thought evaporated. His eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion—they were focused, like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

Your stomach twisted sharply, your legs suddenly feeling like they couldn’t hold you upright anymore. He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That singular thought settled in your chest, blooming like a flower, before curling low in your belly, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your thigh in the softest of touches, like he was savoring the moment. Slowly, he pressed another kiss, firmer this time, his fingers tightening around your thighs as his grip became more insistent. He kissed you again, higher and slower, his nose grazing your skin, breath fanning over you. A deep, contented hum rumbled from his chest.

"What have I done," he murmured, his voice rasping like the words have been pulled from his chest, "to deserve this? To deserve you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Tell me, angel, because I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant to have you like this."

You wanted to tell him everything—the depth of your love, how he made you feel like the luckiest person alive—but the words lodged in your throat.

"Aaron... I... you're just..." you stammered, voice trembling as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, he lifted one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. His lips brushed higher, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, and a soft, broken sound escaped you.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" His breath was hot against your thigh. "You always have so much to say. Don’t tell me you’re out of words already. I haven’t even started.”

"I was going to tell you how—oh, gosh, Aaron—"

Your words you had been trying to string together scattered completely, replaced by a shaky moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your clit. Your breathing stuttered, your chest rising and falling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, drowning out every thought but him.

His mouth was everywhere��warm, insistent, and impossibly skilled as his tongue traced over your clit with maddening precision. He worked like a man possessed, drawing sounds from you that you didn't even know you were capable of making. He was too good at this—too good at knowing exactly where and how to touch you, too good at making you fall apart with just his mouth.

Then he shifted, his hand gripping your other thigh as he lifted your second leg over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. The sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, your hands flying to his hair as your head tipped back.

Your back pressed against the edge of the counter awkwardly, a dull ache building in your lower spine, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of pleasure radiating through you. His tongue moved in devastating accuracy, his hands gripping your thighs like he was gluing you to himself. Your chest moved in shaky breaths, his name slipping from your lips in trembling cries that you couldn’t hold back.

"If I'd known this would be my reward," you gasped, tugging hard at his hair, your words faltering as your head tipped back. "I'd have emptied your whole wallet—oh, fuck—“

His lips closed firmly around your clit, pulling firmly in a way that destroyed your sentence completely. His hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you locked exactly where he wanted you.

"You must really mean it if you're cursing now." His tongue flicked over you again, making your back arch sharply. "Didn’t know you had that in you... let’s see what else I can get you to say, angel."

A warm flush spread up your neck and into your cheeks, heat rising faster than you could control. "I didn't mean to--"

You were cut off once again as his finger slid into your pussy. Any trace of embarrassment was gone, swept away by the overwhelming need pooling deep in your core, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.

The pressure, coiling low in your stomach, was building so fast you could barely keep up with it. Every tell-tale sign was there—the trembling of your thighs, the way your chest shuddered in shallow breaths, and most incriminating of all, the words spilling from your lips before you could even think about them.

"I love you," you gasp, the desperation clear as ever. "I love you so much, I love you—Aaron, oh—"

He groaned against your clit, his tongue pressing hard as though your words were the fuel he needed to pull you apart completely. His finger curled again, hitting that spot that made you vision blur. His eyes flicked up, and you could tell he knew exactly what was happening. He always knew.

"I know, angel," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now show me just how much."

Your orgasm hit you with staggering intensity, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing through you that left every inch of your body trembling. Your breath came in uneven, stuttering gasps as his name spilled from your lips, over and over, like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating.

"That's my girl," Aaron murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin as his finger worked you through the waves.

His lips pressed on last kiss to your thigh before he straightened, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist like he predicted you'd collapse without him. As soon as he lifted you, you clung to him like your life depended on it (and in that moment you were sure it did), your arms winding around his neck.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating somewhere above yourself. Your head rested limply on his shoulder, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. Your fingers curled weakly against the fabric of his shirt, and for a fleeting moment, you weren’t even sure your body had substance anymore—you felt soft, boneless, entirely his.

Aaron tapped the back of your thigh gently. "Come on, sweetheart, up."

You tried—really, you did—but your body wasn't cooperating. Your legs dangled uselessly, and you let out a soft, half-laugh, half-whisper. "Can't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. 

"Hopeless," he teased. He hoisted you up before you could process it, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he flipped you over it. A surprised squeak escaped you, but his hand was already bracing your thigh as he started up the stairs. "I guess I'll just have to do all the work, as usual."

"You're so strong," you mumbled dreamily, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Like... disgustingly strong. It’s so hot."

Aaron laughed, his hand smacking your ass. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart and I'll start using you for my next workout routine. And I guarantee it'll be something you'll feel tomorrow."

"Mr. Hotchner!" you gasped, your voice half-indignant and half-giggling. "And you act like I’m the inappropriate one in this relationship!"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he carried you into the bedroom. He lowered you down, tossing you onto the bed just hard enough to make you bounce lightly against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, body sinking into the covers as you looked up at him. 

“The difference is, I have the good sense not to say things like that on speakerphone.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows. “And you should have the good sense not to trust me on speakerphone. Really, Aaron, rookie move.”

He stood tall at the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly loosening the top button of his shirt as he tilted his head. "“That’s fine. We’ll call it even—after you make good on that promise."

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[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

fun fact: experienced witches who practice it know that any form of divination is more or less just self-reflection. no matter how much you believe in supernatural stuff or don’t, if you identify yourself as a witch and youre skilled at the practice of divination, you know not to ask foolish questions like “will i get this job” or “who will i marry,” regardless of your preferred form of divination. you ask questions like “what should i do to get this job” to ur tarot deck, or “should i pursue this person i like romantically” to your pendulum. the idea is that you already know the answer, even if you don’t know that you know.

so, with a pendulum (which isn’t my preferred method personally but plenty of witches love it), you know already if that person is bad for you, and your subconscious moves the pendulum to swing to tell you no, you shouldn’t pursue them, bc you already know you’re gonna get hurt. with tarot (which IS my preferred method), the cards all have many meanings but your immediate feeling when you look at them is more important than any pre-assigned meaning (bc it reflects what you already intuitively know).

that’s why a good fortune-teller reads for themselves, and if they do it as a job, skilled readers don’t take questions for concrete answers about the future and they seek to learn about the problem at hand before a reading. but tbh it’s always better to practice divination for yourself rather than paying someone else, bc divination is a tool to seek advice from the universe but also from yourself, bc the answers are already within you.

so basically, a skilled diviner who uses pendulums, actually uses the ideomotor effect to seek clarity on things they know subconsciously, but not on a conscious level. an unskilled witch using a pendulum, uses the ideomotor effect to get the answer they want to hear to the question, “will this work out?”

in short, yes, a pendulum is just the ideomotor effect in action, ‘specially if you don’t believe in all the hippie dippie crap that i believe in, but even i can admit that there is a lot of psychological components to it that some witches don’t acknowledge bc it doesn’t fit in with their belief system. however, believing in magic isn’t a requirement to be a skilled fortune-teller. you can use a pendulum with the full knowledge of the ideomotor effect and you can believe that nothing other than your subconscious is guiding your pendulum, and still get something out of it—as long as you know the right kinds of questions to ask yourself. of course you don’t know if you’ll marry the person you’re pining for right now, but you might know if you should actually avoid them like the plague because despite how attracted you are to them, you know that they’re actually kind of cruel with a veneer of charm covering that up.

tbh this is exactly what i love about divination, bc i’m very intuitive but don’t always trust myself when i’m not using my cards, or tea leaves, or a mirror to throw my own thoughts back at me. it allows you to interpret that which you already know as information from the universe or a deity or whatever you need to believe is saying this stuff to you, so that you’ll trust yourself. it’s a great way, for me at least, to train myself to listen to my intuition, and to learn the difference between my intuition and my anxiety (bc it’s hard to explain to people who don’t practice divination, but the voice of my intuition is distinct from the voice of my anxiety—they sound very similar bc they’re both a part of me, but after a lot of practice i can mostly tell which is which)

When I was a kid I had a book of like, "fun physics experiments for kids". And one of them was an "experiment" where you hold an object by a string and just by focusing on the direction you wanted it to swing, it would start to move in that direction even without your input. The book of course explained that this was the ideomotor effect, a phenomenon where your thoughts can create minute, unconscious movements in your body.

Then a couple years later I got a fortune-telling kit that included a pendulum. You hold the pendulum over a piece of paper that says "yes" and "no" and ask a question, and whichever way the pendulum moves is the answer.

At which point I was like "hey WAIT a minute", and in hindsight I think that experience explains most things about who I am as a person

[jobean12-blog]

The Best Worst Day Ever

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: You're having a shit day but then you see a dog and things start looking up...

Author's Note: We love a soft and sweet Bucky and dogs and bookstores and cookies and kisses- so here we are! Hope you enjoy, thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️The two bookstores I mention can be found here (Spoonbill and Sugartown) and here (Albertine Books). Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: a cute dog, Bucky saves the day (a few times), cookies, soft fluff, building tension, books

“You will not believe the day I had.”

You practically sigh the words into the phone, feeling at least slightly better at the sound of your best friends voice.

“Tell me everything,” she says.

You start to recap your shitty day but a large fluff of black fur across the street catches your eye.

“Oh my god…,” you start, completely derailing your previous thought. “There is this giant black dog across the street. I have to go pet it.”

Your best friend laughs, “of course you do,” and you can feel yourself start to form a real smile for the first time today.

“I’ll call you back,” you tell her.

“You got it,” she answers, not even questioning your behavior.

You start to cross the street, giving a quick glance in both directions before breaking into a jog. You’re just about to call out to the old man to ask if his dog is friendly, when you hear the screech of tires.

Your heart drops and your body instinctively reacts but all you feel is the whoosh of air that whips past you and a set of strong arms wrapped around your waist.

For a few long seconds you simply breathe, clinging to the solid warmth of whatever is holding you up.

“Are you ok doll?”

The voice is soft but deep and you look towards it, blinking against the bright sun, wondering for a moment if the car hit you and you’re dead and in fact, now in heaven.

Your fingers dig into soft leather as you stare at one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

“Am I dead?”

Bright blue eyes peer down at you, the corners lightly crinkling at your question. His gaze wanders over your face, his expression seeming to waver between awe and concern.

“No, I’ve got you. But are you ok?”

His words draw your attention to his mouth. Blinking again and trying to clear your head you finally manage to answer him.

“I…I don’t think so…I just wanted to pet the dog.”

His perfect lips curl up into a teasing smile and you have to drag your eyes away to focus on his blue ones. But the fact that you’re pressed against his solid chest and encased in the warmth of his arms does nothing to help your concentration.

With a slight tremble you start to sit up, but he doesn’t release you from his hold. He just moves with you and helps you to stand.

Once he feels you’re steady enough on your feet he removes his hands but stays close, clearly not convinced you’re fine.

You let out a shaky exhale and smooth your hands over yourself.

“That was so scary.”

You can feel the warmth of tears spring to your eyes and your vision starts to blur. He reaches out a gentle hand and places it on your arm.

“I’m sure it was. And while we could stay here I think it would be best to get out of the middle of the street. Why don’t we go sit?”  

He points to the bench on the sidewalk where the old man with the dog stands and watches.

As you approach the old man asks, “it’s a good thing this young man was here to save you. I could never move that fast.”

You glance at the “young man,” and he extends the hand that doesn’t have a secure hold on your arm to greet you.

“Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

“Thank you Bucky,” you say and then give him your name.

“Is she ok?” the old man asks Bucky.

“I think she’s gonna be fine,” Bucky says with a reassuring smile.

Bucky helps you onto the bench and as the dog moves closer, tail wagging, you blurt out in a rush, “can I please pet your dog?”

“Sure,” the old man says. “She’s very friendly.”

“What’s her name?” Bucky asks, as he kneels down to put his hand out for the dog to smell.

“Luna,” the old man replies, sitting down next to you on the bench.

You reach for Luna, letting her smell you before scratching her ears and leaning down to press your face into her soft fur.

Your focus stays on the dog until your heartbeat returns to normal, the conversation between Bucky and the old man lingering quietly in the background.

After a few more steadying breaths you thank the old man and Bucky helps him to stand, watching as he takes slow and small steps away from you, Luna in tow but still looking back at you.

Bucky stands and offers you his hand; strong and slightly clammy, and sparks fly, a curious look flitting across his stunning face as you both react to the touch. You fix your gaze on him and finally give yourself a chance to look. Your heart starts to crash against your chest all over again. You just sit there, staring.

He’s tall and the soft henley he wears beneath his leather jacket is fitted so that you can see the outline of the muscles in his chest. His eyes are the most beautiful blue, and the stubble covering his strong jaw does nothing to conceal the handsome features beneath it.

He smiles softly and for a moment you think you see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your obvious examination. He’s still holding onto your hand, and suddenly, seeming to come to his senses, he releases it and smooths his palm over his hair and then the back of his neck.

You feel a flush of heat move through you.

“You’re sure you’re ok doll?”

You nod.

“She should probably eat something.”

At the old man’s gruff voice both you and Bucky startle and turn to see him standing just a few feet away, a knowing smile on his face. Obviously, he didn’t get very far.

“He deserves a date for savin’ your life there young lady.”

With a decisive nod he dismisses you and Bucky and calls to Luna to finally continue on his way.

You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you look back up at him from your seat.

“Food?” you ask quietly.

“Let’s go,” he answers, his easy smile returning. “I know just the place.”

The butterflies stay firmly planted in the pit of your empty stomach and you stand so abruptly that you teeter forward and into his arms again. He catches you with two hands splayed at your waist and the urge to bury your heated face against his chest is overwhelming.

“I’m really having a day,” you mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I’m just happy I’m here to help.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

He falls into an easy stride beside you and a huff of laughter falls from your lips before you say, “I can’t believe I almost died trying to pet a dog.”

“I get it,” Bucky says, throwing you a wink.

You’re careful with your footing, still somewhat shaky from the whole ordeal but when your attention turns back to Bucky, his eyes trailing across your face, seeming to linger on your mouth before lifting to your eyes, you stumble, your foot catching a crack in the sidewalk.

He grabs your bicep to steady you, and you groan. “Shit, you must think I’m hopeless.”

“That person’s driving skills having nothing to do with you,” he assures you as he gently leads you toward the restaurant. “And everyone likes to pet dogs…or at least they should.”

His voice is gentle, and you avoid his gaze, his hand still curled securely around your arm as you come to stop outside the restaurant.

He only let’s go to open the door and usher you in with a soft press of his hand to your lower back.

The flutter of butterflies that you keep trying to ignore are back in full force and when Bucky stops at a table and pulls out the chair for you the gesture has you feeling faint.

You must be starved.

With a monumental effort to relax you sit back in the chair and cross your legs. His gaze automatically flickers downward and be visibly swallows before quickly looking away.

There’s a definite blush on the tops of his cheeks now.

“The pizza here is really good.” His voice sounds extra rumbly, maybe even a little hoarse.

You pick up a menu and start to fan yourself without even thinking. “I’m sure it is.”

“Do you live close by?” you ask him.

“Just a few blocks away. I’m here all the time.”

Before you can ask any more questions, an older woman appears beside your table with a beaming smile.

“Barnes has finally showed up with a girl!” she sings. “And a beauty at that.”

You hide your giggle behind the menu and peer at Bucky.

“This is Millie,” he says, his smile wide. “She owns the place and loves to bust my chops.”

You introduce yourself, delighted and Millie’s warmth.

“Are you having the usual?” Millie asks Bucky.

He nods and looks to you.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” you tell Millie.

“I like her already,” Millie says before rushing back off to the kitchen.

Bucky sits forward, his arms crossed in front of him and now that he’s taken off his leather jacket there is more of him to admire.

His blue eyes are focused entirely on you, and you try not to blurt out your thoughts about how nice his biceps looked in his shirt so instead you clamp your mouth shut and look around the cozy space.

You fall into easy conversation and when the food comes the silence is comfortable while you eagerly eat it, not realizing how hungry you really are.

After your stomach is full, Bucky pays the bill, even after you offered several times, pleading with him that you owed him at least that after saving your life.

He waves you off and hands Millie the cash then holds his hand out for yours.

At the feel of his skin tension immediately springs between you, and you scramble to think of something to say.

He beats you to it.

“What are your plans for the weekend?”

Grateful for the distraction, you reply, “well, I usually spend my Saturday afternoons at this little bookshop in my neighborhood.”

“Is it Spoonbill and Sugartown?”

Your eyes widen and light up.

“YES! You know it?”

“I do. I used to go all the time. Haven’t been in a while though. I love the smell of the old books.”

A rush of attraction sweeps over you like a wave and your hand squeezes his.

“You could meet me there tomorrow? If you’re not busy?”

“Yeah. I’d love that,” he says, grabbing the door and holding it open so you can exit the restaurant.

“Which way are you?” he asks, still holding your hand.

You point right toward Bedford Avenue.

“Come on, I’ll walk ya home doll.”

“Is it out of your way? I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

He chuckles before leaning down to press a quick, surprising kiss to your cheek.

“Nah, it’s not and I really don’t mind.”

You are in love.

Inside the old bookstore, with its vaulted ceilings and shafts of light pouring through the skylights, you stare at the rows and rows of bookshelves.

Through the aisles there is something to catch the eye at every turn. Not just books, but interesting and antique Tiffany lamps and various knick knacks that make you smile. Reading areas are set up in breaks between the shelves, tables with chairs so people can lounge, read, and drink their coffee and eat their desserts.

You let out a contented sigh. On purpose, you arrived a bit early, hoping the familiarity and comfort of the store would calm the persistent butterflies that have taken up a permanent residence in your stomach since your literal run in with Bucky.

As you’re falling deeper under the spell of the leather lined bindings and dusty-smelling pages a soft voice calls your name.

You look up and see Bucky standing at the end of the aisle. He’s dressed casually but different from yesterday, his dark jeans fitted to his muscular thighs and his black tee shirt showing off those perfect arms and chest.

He steps closer and greets you with another kiss to your cheek, this time, closer to the corner of your mouth.

You close your eyes briefly, inhaling his scent and steadying yourself on your feet. Before you can actually swoon to the floor you tell him about the expansion they recently built in the back with a rush of enthusiastic words.

Taking his hand, you lead him to the new section, practically running.

Laughing at your overexcitement, he squeezes your hand.

“You’re very cute.”

When you turn to look at him, something in his eyes makes your skin heat and you have to look away again, but not before you give him a thankful smile.

You expect him to let go of your hand once you reach the back, but he doesn’t.

“Have you ever been to Albertine Books?” he asks.

You stop and think.

“No, I don’t think I’ve even heard of it.”

“It’s easy to miss,” he explains. “It’s inside the French Embassy and has mostly French language books and translations from French into English, but it’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” you say with uninhibited joy. “Will you take me there sometime?”

You’re too busy deciding which part of the expanded bookstore you want to show him first to see his expression, but you hear the affection in his tone when he replies, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, doll.”

Your heart flutters.

Your hand gets clammy, and you gently pull it away, trying to use the shelves and the books lining them to refocus yourself.

He stays with you, content to watch you peruse the bindings, moving from bookshelf to bookshelf.

The book titles quickly become a blur as your awareness zeroes in on one thing, one person.

Bucky.

You feel the warmth of his presence, hovering at your back, and feel the heat of his gaze on your face. The skin on your cheek tingles and you can still feel the press of his lips.

Your breathing grows shallower as his fingertips brush against the small of your back, a gentle touch, but searing through your clothes.

Busy frantically pondering how to navigate the chemistry you share; you don’t realize the book you halt in front of until it’s too late.

A romance novel with a couple in a sexy position on the cover.

Just perfect.

His fingertips press deeper against your lower back, and then you feel the whisper of his lips on your ear as he comments, “interesting choice.”

You make the mistake of turning your head toward his and find his nose just inches from yours.

Your eyes lock for a second before his gazes drops to your mouth. Your body sways slightly toward his, and he takes the movement as an invitation, his head dipping those last few inches.

“Excuse me.”

A voice, loud and close, jolts you away from Bucky, whose mouth had just been millimeters from touching yours.

“I just…want that book.” An arm reaches between you and Bucky, and dazed, you look over to see a woman. She seems unfazed by the fact that she clearly interrupted a moment, and you grab the book for her.

She gives you a thin lipped smiled and darts away.

After a second or two of staring after her, you finally draw up the courage to meet Bucky’s eyes.

His cheeks are pink again and he’s rubbing his palm on his jeans.

Looking over his shoulder you spot the coffee and dessert counter.

“Ooh!” you say, hurrying towards it. “Let’s get a cookie!”

Bucky follows and you turn to him, smiling through the awkwardness.

“You have to try the double chocolate chip.”

He bends down to peer into the display case. Your eyes meet, and just like that you’re too close for your body to handle. You swallow hard.

“It’s delicious. And the chunks of chocolate are gooey.”

His eyes are trained on your mouth as he murmurs, “maybe we should get two.”

“Good idea. I can eat a whole one easily on my own. We might even need three.”

You sound breathless.

“Hm.” He’s not even listening to your words at this point. His focus is on your lips, his eyes are hooded, and he is definitely going to attempt to kiss you again.

“What can I get for you?” the worker behind the counter asks, smiling brightly when the two of you jerk your heads up.

“Four double chocolate chip cookies,” Bucky blurts out, then follows with a soft, “please and thanks.”

Once you have your cookies in your hand you head to one of the back tables and sit, stuffing nearly the whole cookie in your mouth.

It’s so good that for a moment you forget yourself and moan around the bite.

Bucky clears his throat, and you lock eyes. His reaches across the table, his strong fingertips gripping your chin, and he bends his head toward yours. He halts when he’s close enough that you can see the patches of gray in his beard and feel his warm breath fan your cheek.

With the softest brush of his calloused thumb, he wipes away some chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Had a little chocolate smudge right there,” he whispers.

You slowly nod and your tongue darts out to lick your lips. His eyes track the movement, and he releases you, biting into half of his own cookie.

“These really are amazing,” he says around the mouthful.

You nod again, too flustered for words.

The two of you eat all four cookies and despite wanting to distract yourself with more you leave the bookstore and let him walk you home once again.

When you stop outside your building you fiddle with your hands and look anywhere but at him.

“I had the best time,” he says, drawing your attention.

“Me too,” you say quietly.

“When can I take you to Albertine Books?” he asks, as he takes a tentative step closer.

“Tomorrow?”

It’s a hopeful question. One you couldn’t stop yourself from asking even if you wanted to.

“I’d love that doll.”

A deep tug low in your belly makes you bite your lip. You love the use of that endearment and after spending most of the afternoon so close to him you’re nearly at your wits end.

His gaze fixes on yours and his jaw tightens at whatever he sees in your expression then he closes the distance and slides his arms around you, his hands coasting slowly up your back.

He lifts a hand to your cheek, sweeping his thumb across your soft skin and splaying his hand to draw you closer.

“If someone interrupts us this time…” he says, tone full of warning but still teasing.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even notice if there was a dog nearby for me to pet,” you say with a smile.

He laughs and bumps your nose with his.

“Not even a dog huh?”                                                                                   

You shake your head, and your eyes start to close as your hands grasp the front of his shirt. You feel the heat of his breath first, the warning before his lips touch yours. And when they do, it’s barely a brush, a hot, glancing touch.

Your fingers close more tightly around the fabric of his shirt, silently urging him to really kiss you. You’re desperate for it.

Another whisper of a of kiss, then a slightly deeper press, a nibble on your lower lip. A whimper escapes you.

It shatters whatever restraint he’s grounded himself with and his hand splayed at your back hauls you against his body as his mouth presses to yours.

You open your mouth to let him in, and his groan of satisfaction rumbles through you. The tickle of his scruffy jaw is rough in the just the way you’d hoped it would be and when you feel the slide of his hands down your back, the smooth strength of him under your touch, you completely melt into the kiss and the rest of the world fades away.

[swappermanent]

Sugar Baby

When I started going out with Paul, it felt like everything had finally settled into place. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was in a relationship that made me feel alive. We were super attracted to each other—magnetically, almost—which, after years of boyfriends who left me feeling unsure and self-conscious, was a relief. I knew I was attractive, sure, but there’s a difference between knowing it and feeling it. With Paul, I felt it.

The chemistry was undeniable. We were having sex all the time, barely able to keep our hands off each other. It had been seven months, and honestly, I thought the honeymoon phase might never end. We’d built this bubble around us, this glowing little world where nothing else mattered… until that night.

We’d just come back from dinner at a trendy little spot downtown. I thought the evening had been perfect. The food was great, the wine was flowing, and Paul had looked incredible in his tailored blazer and skinny jeans. But as soon as we got back to my apartment, I could tell something was wrong.

Paul dropped his wallet on the counter with more force than necessary and crossed his arms. “Did you hear what that server said tonight?” he asked, his voice sharp.

I blinked, trying to think back. “What are you talking about?”

“He called me a sugar baby, Oliver,” Paul snapped, his eyes flashing. “Or at least he implied it. Don’t tell me you didn’t catch that.”

I frowned, replaying the night in my head. “I think he said something about us being a…‘cute couple,’ maybe? I don’t remember anything like that.”

Paul threw his hands up. “Of course you didn’t notice. Why would you? You’re not the one who gets judged every time we walk into a room together.”

“Paul, what are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely confused. “What do you care what some random waiter thinks? He’s nobody.”

“It’s not just him,” Paul said, his voice rising. “It’s everyone. Every time we’re out, people look at us and assume I’m with you for your money or because you’re older and can…‘take care’ of me or whatever.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm. “No one’s judging you. Why would they?”

Paul’s laugh was bitter. “You really don’t get it, do you? Even though you’re super, super hot, you’re still older, Oliver. People notice. They talk. And I’m tired of it.”

I opened my mouth to respond but realized I didn’t know what to say. I’d always thought of us as equals, partners in every sense. But now Paul was voicing something I hadn’t even considered. I didn’t care what anyone thought of us, but clearly, he did.

The argument spiraled from there, each of us throwing words we didn’t mean into the space between us. By the time we finally fell silent, the tension was suffocating. I hated it. I hated that we were fighting, that I couldn’t make him see how little anyone else’s opinion mattered.

That was when Paul said something I never expected. “I wish you could understand what it’s like to be me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, folding my arms.

“It means you have no idea what it’s like to be young and judged for being with someone older,” he said. “You’ve never had to deal with that.”

I wanted to argue, but something in his tone stopped me. He was hurt, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Instead, I sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Paul. I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed his coat and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

---

The argument with Paul left me feeling helpless. For days, his words echoed in my mind: “I wish you could understand what it’s like to be me.” I hated the wedge it had driven between us, and I wanted to show him—prove to him—how much I cared.

That’s how I ended up in a small, dimly lit shop tucked into a back alley downtown. A witch, of all things, had been recommended by a friend who swore she could “fix anything.” At first, I thought it was ridiculous, but desperation does strange things to a person.

The witch, a woman with piercing green eyes and a voice that felt like velvet and steel all at once, listened to my story. When I told her I wanted to switch bodies with Paul, she raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask questions. “It’s a bold move,” she said, studying me. “Are you sure you want this? The spell isn’t permanent, but it’ll be… revealing.”

I nodded. “I need him to see how much I care. I need to understand.”

That night, I surprised Paul with dinner at home—his favorite meal, candles, wine. He was suspicious at first, probably expecting another long conversation about our fight, but eventually, he relaxed.

After we ate, I told him. “I did something for us,” I said, my hands trembling slightly as I held his. “It’s… different, but I think it’ll help.”

Paul looked at me warily. “What did you do, Oliver?”

“Just trust me,” I said, pulling the small vial of shimmering liquid from my pocket. “Drink this with me.”

“What the hell is that?” he asked, leaning back.

“It’s magic. Literally,” I said, smiling nervously. “It’s going to switch our bodies—for a little while. So I can understand what it’s like to be you. So we can understand each other better.”

Paul stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” I said firmly. “I know it’s crazy, but… I love you, Paul. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. Please.”

He hesitated, but eventually, he sighed and reached for the vial. “This is insane,” he muttered. “But fine. Let’s do it.”

The sensation was indescribable. A rush of heat, a pull deep in my chest, and then—suddenly—I was staring at myself. At Oliver. My body. Paul’s jaw dropped, and I realized my mouth—his mouth—was hanging open too.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, my voice high and light. Paul’s voice.

“Holy shit,” Paul said, his tone low and steady—my tone. He looked down at his hands, flexing them. “This is… weird.”

We stood there for a moment, just staring at each other, until a grin spread across my—Paul’s—face. “I’m… cute,” I said, looking in the mirror to admire my new body. “You’re adorable, Paul. I mean, I knew that, but… wow.”

Paul rolled his—my—eyes. “Great. Glad you’re having fun already.”

But I could see the curiosity in his expression as he studied his new reflection in the window. “This is so strange,” he muttered, running his—my—hands through his hair.

---

The first few days were exhilarating. I had always thought Paul’s body was beautiful, but living in it was something else entirely. I felt light and full of energy. I was used to being strong, but in Paul’s body, I felt… different. More vulnerable, maybe, but in a way that made me more aware of the world around me.

And then there was the bedroom. That was… an experience. For the first time, I got to see myself—my body—through Paul’s eyes, and it was hotter than I ever could have imagined. I couldn’t stop staring at him. At me. At the way my body moved and how it felt under Paul’s touch.

“Wow,” I whispered one night, lying on my back and looking up at him—at me. “I didn’t realize how hot I am.”

Paul smirked, his—my—hands running over my chest. “Told you.”

The roles had reversed completely. He was stronger now, more dominant, and I was smaller, lighter. It felt amazing to let go and be tossed around a little, to feel his strength in a way I’d never experienced before. And the way he looked at me—his eyes hungry and full of admiration—it turned me on even more.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I teased one night, watching him as he explored his new body.

Paul grinned, his face lighting up. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, his tone playful. “You’re… pretty great, you know.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

---

At first, being Paul felt liberating. I loved the way people looked at me—at him—with a mix of admiration and envy. I enjoyed the carefree lightness of being in his body, his energy, his youth. But the novelty wore off faster than I expected. The longer I spent as Paul, the more I realized his life wasn’t as effortless as I’d thought.

The first real cracks appeared with his friends.

I’d always thought they liked me. They were always so warm when I was me—when I was Oliver. But as Paul, I got to see the unfiltered version of how they really felt about our relationship. The jokes started small.

“You’re still with Oliver?” one of them asked over beers. “Man, the dude’s practically a fossil.”

The group laughed, and I forced a grin. “He’s not that old,” I said, trying to brush it off.

Another friend, Darren, smirked. “I don’t know, Paul. Next thing you know, you’ll be helping him pick out retirement homes.”

More laughter. I clenched my teeth, trying to laugh along, but it stung. The digs didn’t stop there. Every hangout seemed to come with new jabs. “How’s the old man holding up?” “Bet he falls asleep before you even make it to the bedroom.” “Does he have to stretch before you guys have sex?”

I tried to defend myself—Oliver—but it only made things worse. “He’s incredible,” I snapped once, tired of the ridicule. “He’s smart and successful and—”

“And old,” Darren interrupted, grinning. “C’mon, Paul, we’re just messing with you. Don’t be so sensitive.”

It was grating. Even though they claimed to be joking, the constant comments wore me down. I started to see how much pressure Paul must have felt every time we were out together. I understood now why he’d been so sensitive about the waiter’s comment. This wasn’t just an isolated thing; it was everywhere.

Things came to a head on the beach trip.

Paul’s friends had organized a day at the beach, and I’d been excited. The sun, the waves, the chance to relax—it sounded perfect. But I realized they had ulterior motives.

“Hey, Paul,” one of them said with a sly grin as we set up on the sand. “We invited someone new to join us today. You’ll love him.”

That “someone” turned out to be Vince. Tall, tan, and absolutely ripped, Vince looked like he’d walked straight off the cover of a fitness magazine. His laugh was deep and easy, his smile dazzling. I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his swim trunks, his abs catching the sunlight. He was polite, charming, and… clearly interested in me.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. But as the day went on, it became obvious this wasn’t a coincidence. Paul’s friends had brought Vince along to tempt me—Paul. It was a cruel test, one I hadn’t been prepared for.

The group seemed to push us together all day. “Vince, why don’t you help Paul with the cooler?” “Hey, Paul, Vince is really into hiking. You should talk to him about that trail you like.” “You two should totally go for a swim together.”

And Vince played along. He was magnetic, and it was hard not to be drawn to him. His confidence was intoxicating, and the way he looked at me—as if I were the only person on the beach—made my heart race in a way I hadn’t expected.

By the end of the day, we found ourselves at a seaside bar. The group was dancing, drinks in hand, the setting sun casting a golden glow over everything. Vince and I ended up on the dance floor together, and he moved closer, his hand brushing against mine.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, his voice low. His eyes locked on mine, and I felt a rush of heat.

“I’m not—” I started, but he interrupted me.

“Yes, you are,” he said, stepping closer. His hands rested lightly on my hips, and I didn’t pull away. “You’re gorgeous, Paul. You deserve to be adored.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. I froze, torn between the pull of his touch and the voice in my head screaming that this was wrong.

I hesitated, and in that moment, his hand slid lower. He gently cupped my bulge, his fingers pressing just enough to send a shiver through me. My breath caught, and before I could stop myself, I kissed him back. It was slow at first, tentative, but then his other hand slid up my back, pulling me closer, and I melted into him.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the group, not Oliver, not the consequences. Just Vince and the way he made me feel—desired, wanted, free.

It started as a moment of weakness. The kiss with Vince was supposed to be just that—a fleeting mistake, something I could forget. But I didn’t forget. I couldn’t.

The first time we slept together, it was like an explosion. Vince was passionate, attentive, and completely unlike anything I’d experienced before. He made me feel alive in a way that both thrilled and terrified me. I told myself it would just be a one-time thing, but one night turned into two, and then three, and soon I was finding excuses to see him.

It wasn’t just about the physical connection—although that was incredible. With Vince, I felt like I could shed all the insecurities I’d been carrying as Paul. He didn’t see me as someone trying to live up to anyone else’s standards. He just saw me.

But every time I was with Vince, the guilt weighed heavier. I was lying to Paul—not just about Vince, but about everything. The whole reason I’d switched bodies was to understand him, to bridge the gap between us. Instead, I’d let the gap widen, filling it with secrets and betrayal.

After weeks of this, I couldn’t keep it up anymore. I knew I had to end things with Paul.

We sat across from each other in his apartment—my apartment, technically—and I struggled to find the words. Paul looked so hopeful, his expression soft despite the tension that had grown between us since the switch.

“I’ve been thinking,” I started, my voice trembling slightly. “About us.”

Paul frowned, leaning forward. “What about us?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “You were right,” I said quietly. “The age gap… it’s too much. I thought it didn’t matter, but I see it now. You deserve someone who’s in the same place as you. Someone your own age.”

Paul’s face fell, and my chest tightened. I could see the hurt in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a tight smile. “So, you’ve come around, huh?” he said, his voice heavy. “I guess I should’ve seen this coming.”

“I just want what’s best for you,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You should be with someone who gets you. Someone who can make you happy in ways I can’t.”

He nodded slowly, biting his lip. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” His voice wavered, and I could tell he was holding back tears. “I guess I’ve been thinking the same thing… but I didn’t want to admit it.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, guilt gnawing at me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Paul took a shaky breath, brushing his hands over his thighs. “Well, I guess this means we need to swap back, huh?”

The words hung in the air between us. I could feel the weight of them, the finality. But instead of agreeing, I hesitated. My heart pounded as I looked at him—at me.

“Actually…” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I’m afraid we’re not going to be doing that.”

Paul blinked, confusion washing over his face. “What? What do you mean?”

“I mean… I think it’s better this way,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady. “You can start fresh. Be with someone who fits into your life. And I can… I can do the same.”

Realization dawned on him, his eyes widening. “You’re serious,” he said, his voice rising. “You’re not giving my body back?”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Paul. I think this is for the best.”

[filthygalli]

When I Met You: Chapter 3 "Iced Americano"

Fem!Reader x Neighbor! Hwang In-Ho

Main Master list

Squid Game Master list

Genre/Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, Light smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow burn, Age gap (Reader is in her early 30’s, While In-Ho is in his late 40’s.) Rude In-Ho (but will eventually be soft with the reader Soon!) Literature Professor! In-Ho (Not specified what kind of literature) More Tags to come soon!

Warnings: MDNI!Masturbation, Cursing, A little cliffhanger for the pt.2 (Coming this week also), Short chapter (ik, sorry), Reader thinking that In-Ho is not just a Literature Professor, Not proof read.

Word Count: 1142

Author's Note: This chapter is quite short, I have my whole idea for the chapter 4, I'll 'tease' you guys a bit here, but I feel like it's some terrible writing? Anyways let me know what you think, and thank you so much for y'all's support! 🥹🖤

© Pictures that are used are from Pinterest.

You knocked on In-Ho's door to pick up Yu-Jin so In-Ho wouldn't bother to drop Yu-Jin at your house. You knocked patiently, hearing the doorknob twist as the door swung open, his gaze turning soft when he saw you, “Y/n? ” You smiled. “Good morning, In-Ho, I'm here to pick up Yu-Jin. So you won't take your time dropping him off at my house.” You looked up at him, scanning his reaction. Was he expecting you to come early this morning? To be honest, he got caught off guard; he thought you were some random person who wanted to ruin his morning, but it turns out it's a person who always makes his morning perfect. He paused for a moment before answering, scanning your eyes carefully, “Good morning to you too, Y/n.” He gave you a slight smile, which made you sigh in relief a little, ‘He's not in a bad mood,’ you thought, “Are you going to take him for a walk? ” He asked, leaning on the door frame, your breath hitched a little, “I—yeah—I was thinking of grabbing a coffee on the way there too…” In-Ho noticed your reaction to what he just did; he smirked a little, not too obvious for you to notice, “Hmm, I see…” You both looked at each other, “You know what…” He paused for a moment to rethink his thought, “What is it? ” You slightly tilted your head, curious about what he was going to say. “I’ll drive you and Yu-Jin to the coffee shop near the campus, We can both grab a coffee there before I go to work,” He looked at you for a moment before smiling, “It’s the least I could do.” He added, You admired his smile, the smile that you’ve never seen before, Maybe Yu-Jin sees it everytime, But you don’t, well, you do now, and his smile is one of the gorgeous smiles you’ve ever seen, “Y/n?” He said snapping you back to reality, You chuckled awkwardly as you nodded, “I’d love that.” You smiled up at him brightly, He opened the door just enough for you to get in, He leaned in a little as he said “Wait inside.” as if he’s telling you a secret that not even anyone else should hear. You went inside his home immediately greeted by Yu-Jin who lays down on his back asking for belly rubs. You chuckled in excitement as you crouched down to rub Yu-Jin’s belly. “He likes you too much,” He said looking down at you, “Hmm?” You looked up at him giving him a puppy eyes looks, ‘Fuck,’ he thought as he looks away for a moment before saying, “It’s nothing, make yourself comfortable, Y/n.” he said before going upstairs, You nodded as you picked up Yu-Jin bringing him on In-Ho’s leather chair. “Did you miss me, Yu-Jin?” You asked the cat who’s sitting on the arm of the leather chair, The cat meowed, “I missed you too–!” You chuckled, “I missed him too…” You muttered as you thought of In-Ho. You started to think of In-Ho, You thought of what’s his favorite food, Book, Movies? Does he even listen to songs? If yes, What kind and what’s his favorite songs? You thought of the things that what might Thee Hwang In-Ho like, You don’t really know him that well, You just know that he’s a literature professor, He owns a cat which is Yu-Jin, That he’s a stubborn and grumpy person, ‘Oh–he also likes black coffee’ you muttered to yourself, ‘Hmm..well he smells like one though..’ You chuckled to yourself remembering the time where you first met Yu-Jin and your second encounter with In-Ho. He smelled like a black coffee. He seems like an elegant person based on how he looks and style himself, the way his house looks so simple yet it screams ‘Old money’ type of thing–And let’s not forget his car, That Black Mercedes, God–Is he really a literature professor or a mafia? Because no one would buy such an expensive car by just teaching, ‘Maybe he has other work?’ You thought, ‘’What would it be though…?’’ You said to yourself as you chuckled to yourself for thinking such things.

In-Ho went to his room as he closed the door behind him. He sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. He can’t take it anymore. The way you looked at him with that pouty look of yours sends him over the edge. You’ve been inside his head for a while—how calm and angelic your voice sounds, how soft your skin, how light your touches are, how you look so innocent and dumb when you’re with him… He wants you badly. He spent so many sleepless nights thinking about you, about your every encounter with him, how he purposely does things that he would think would make you go crazy, and he’s right. He feels his cock getting hard by the thoughts of you, He can’t do this right now, Not when you’re just down stairs, “Fuck, Not now In-Ho..” he growled, His body betrayed him, he groans at the feeling of his aching cock throbbing inside his pants, “Fuck.” He muttered as he unzipped his pants and pulls out his cock, Pre-cum beaded on the tip of his cock, he spat on his palm and used it as a lube to palm his aching cock, He groans from the feeling, he started to pump his cock up and down, God he wish that you’re the one who’s doing this to him, He started to sped up his pace, “Ah- fu-” He moaned as he thinks about you, How perfect your body is, How soft your voice is, god knows how will you sound like if he fucks you on his leather chair, Back pressed against his bare chest as he whisper sweet nothings to your ears, He bets to himself that your soft lips would look good wrapped around his cock, He feels himself getting closer his hands are getting tired–He wants to cum badly, wanting to release his cum that he’s been keeping for days since he thought of you, “Fuck–Y/n–!” He bit his lip, not wanting you to hear his moans, his moans that were dedicated to you. He came as he groaned from the feeling, the feeling of releasing days of tension between him and you; he whimpered as he pumped the last drop of his cum. As cum drips from his hand, staining his black pants, he pants as he groans in annoyance. He feels disgusted by what he just did. Jerking himself by the thought of you, he just wishes that you didn’t hear him moaning your name like a broken record as he chased his high a while ago. It’ll be a long day for him, and well for you too.

Author's Note:

Happy 200 followers!!! Thank you so much for the support🥹 I made this account I think 2 years ago if I'm not mistaken—i just wanted to read fan fictions to try it, eventually, writing caught my interest because I got so inspired by other writers to write my own depending on my own imagination, and I'm glad I started writing because writing is one of my gifts nowwww! Thank you so much everyone!🥹🖤

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kitchen

remus lupin x reader one-shot ! warnings: my beta reader rated it 12/10 angst, do with that what you will. word count: 2,889 masterlist a/n: this is so sad. this is rlly just me partly reflecting my break up onto Remus i AM SO SORRY IN ADVANCE.

You stared at the side of Remus’s face as he talked with James. Your brother ever the animated man, waved his arms around and spoke excitedly, to which Remus could only muster small chuckles and low-toned responses. 

You knew he was tired. 

Work was tiring. 

The moon was tiring. 

His body was tired. 

Part of you was still left with a bitter aftertaste from his apathy. You pressed a kiss against his bicep.

Remus’s lips pressed into a thin line resembling a smile. You knew it meant he was itching to leave. But you didn’t move. You sat, and stared, at him, at James, at Lily. At nothing at all. You laughed when they did, and put your hand on his forearm as to remind yourself of the spark between you. To remind yourself that he was here, with you and that he loved you.

That you loved him too.

You wondered if he had always been this way. Had you just been too in love to notice the apathy? The way he seemed to not even try to reciprocate any energy? Were you just being too needy? 

Was James not bothered by his friend’s lack of emotion? 

You and Remus had too much history. You could not remember what life was like without being with him. It had been years. Years of running up and down behind your twin brother and his friends, years of hands intertwined with Remus’s, kisses first shared in the dark— Merlin forbid your brother found out at the time. You had been happy. For years. Even with the ups and downs and the mercurial nature of his moods. Maybe lunar is a better word for it.

The waning and waxing phases of the way he felt about the world. You thought that might be the hardest part of it all. 

The way he’d be enthusiastic about the future one week, talking about job postings that had piqued his interest, talking about a future. But other weeks, the dark side of the moon reared its ugly head. He’d be riddled with doubts and fears. Days and weeks were he simply wallowed, days where he haunted your room or your kitchen, for hours. He’d reluctantly go to his muggle job, the monotony of it all bringing his mood down even more.

Weeks like those it was hard. The talks of aspirations went up in a cloud of smoke and you were once again left with nothing.

 He always did say that even though he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, he was sure about you. That you were the one constant in his future. No matter what, it was you. It wasn’t as reassuring as he believed it to be.

You tried not to think about it.

You eventually bid goodbye to your brother and his darling wife. The picture of a perfect family, with a baby on the way, in a small flowering cottage. You itched to ask Remus if he ever wanted that. Did he ever think about it at all?

But, you loved him. That was all that mattered.

Besides, you had real history. Too many years invested. If it wasn’t with him, you were probably just going to end up alone.

You were in love with him for Godric’s sake. Maybe that was the reason you could never choose yourself. 

“Have you given what we talked about some thought?” your words were barely above a whisper, unsure, scared about what his answer could be. You could see him look around uncomfortably. Maybe you should’ve waited until you actually got home not walking through the streets. 

“Y-yeah, I did…” his hand gripped yours tighter as you walked, like you might slip from his fingers “I think I should maybe wait a few weeks…” his shoulders tensed when the sigh inevitably left your lips. “I’m sorry I know it isn't what you wanted to hear but- I don't know if the Ministry would even take me… I did see a new posting for an entry-level in the department of magical creatures maybe I could apply”

“Apply soon yeah”

He nodded silently and you kissed his shoulder to wordlessly tell him thank you, as you walked home from James and Lily’s. Maybe he’d actually do it this time. Maybe one day, he’d see his own potential, he’d see how much farther he could go. 

Maybe someday he’d be brave enough to take a leap and fulfill his promises to you and himself. Maybe one day you’d finally be in a spot to build a family together. Or at least plan for it.

After all, you and Remus had real history. And he promised. Many moons ago.

Your love for him was why it was always so hard to do the right thing. 

Because as soon there was some disagreement, you knew, as much as he did, that no matter how upset you might be with him he could sweep you into his arms and all worry would melt away. 

In the small flat, you and Remus shared, under the warm light of the stray table lamp you’d dance. He’d take you in his arms and move along the soft rhythm of the music he’d put on. He’d kiss your temple and swear and promise.

Shallow words that at this point went in one ear and out the other. Promises of a future together, of applications that would never get done, of steps that would never even be attempted. 

But nevertheless, you forgave. 

You forgave four years of broken promises. You forgave the lack of a ring on your finger. You forgave the lack of planning for the future. You forgave his indifference.

You made yourself think you forgave him.

You tried to forget too.

Tried to forget his lack of ambition because why try when they would never want to hire someone like me? Tried to forget the way your mother had warned you about this a year back. Tried to forget the way Sirius called your phone last month from France, telling you you’d love it there, telling you it was a shame Remus didn’t want to go. How much of a shame it was that you had to miss out on life-changing experiences because Remus couldn't. 

Wouldn’t. 

Same thing.

Sirius called again a few days after you visited your brother.

“Is it raining there? The weather’s shit here at the moment” You ask, staring at the window, the raging storm outside banging against the glass and drowning the usual sight of the street bellow. 

“Meh- could be worse, I reckon it’s starting to warm up soon, so m’pretty excited about that,” He said, you hummed in acknowledgment “Have you talked to Moony again about coming? It really is beautiful in the summer doll— besides you can stay with me for free obviously”

You sighed

“No Sirius, I honestly don't even want to ask I already know how that one will go”

“So what? you’re not vacationing at all?”

“The only place I’m vacationing is in rock bottom Black-” you said, staring at the closed bedroom door. No doubt Remus was taking a small nap. The full moon was approaching.

Sirius tskd’d.

“You know you can always come… by yourself I mean, stay with me for a while”

“Sirius…”

“I know I know… I’m sorry-” Sirius tried laughing it off, the chuckle not lasting long as he asked, “Are you happy at least? With him.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that” You tried fighting the way your eyes seemed to immediately water.

“I fear it’s a pretty straight-up question- yes or no?”

“I don’t know if this is what happy is anymore” you whispered, afraid to state it fully aloud

“Then it isn't. When you’re happy, you know” Sirius sounded somber “You have to do the right thing, whatever is right for you not for him”

“It is never that easy”

“Yes, it is doll. It is always that easy”

You bid him goodbye soon after.

You chalked it off as Sirius not knowing what it was like to be with someone for years. You couldn’t just throw away the past four years of your life just because what? He was tired? He wasn’t putting as much effort as you wanted?

It could be fixed.

You were convinced you’d fix it as Remus trudged out of the room, hair disheveled as he rested his head on your shoulder. A kiss to the crook of your neck.

“Was it Pads?” he mumbled against your skin, you ignored the way you felt caught

“Yes”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, better than okay”

“I wish we could go to Paris” you tried not breaking down in tears right there and there. 

It was never about money. You could go on brooms for fucks sake. You could portkey right into Sirius’s little French apartment. 

You didn't ask him why not. Why not go? You drowned the question in the tea he eventually handed you. You had always been more of a coffee person, but much like everything else, you sacrificed it for his preference for tea and its calming effects.

You tried your best to fix it, for months. You’d lay down with him after work, card your fingers through his light brown locks, trace his scars while he fought off sleep, press a chaste kiss to his lips before he fell asleep. 

You started calling Sirius more often than not, in hushed whispers. Tears were often spilled. You stopped feeling bad eventually. It was just calling a friend in a time of need. Draining the disappointment you didn't dare throw in Remus’s face. 

He was going through enough.

You continued to hold on to hope.

You’d nudge him along. Try for new jobs, call friends to see if anyone, anyone at all, could find him an in with the ministry.

“He just needs to apply sweetie- this is stupid” Marlene rolled her eyes, her auror uniform casually unbuttoned after her day of work, she twirled the spoon in her tea with a small wave of her finger. “They’re starting these werewolf allocation programs, they make sure they’re given jobs and such…”

“I don't know if he’d like that” You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. You could imagine him already, turning his nose away from any sort of Ministry help.

“Can I ask why he isn’t the one asking me these things?” Marlene said a glint in her eye that let you know she knew the answer already. You looked away.

“Sometimes it's hard to do the right thing Marls”

“You need to do the right thing for yourself”

“Marlene-” you scoffed “Me and Remus just have too much history- how can I ever just choose me? It’s us”

“Maybe it’s time it’s just you” 

You stared at Remus that night, the soft music that played from his muggle radio filling the air between you. You stared at him silently, the curve of his lips, the soft of the apples of his cheeks. The silvery scars that ran across his face. 

You loved him, you did.

But you also did feel the very worst you could feel. No dancing in the kitchen could fix it anymore. No kisses and fake promises could fix it. Not anymore.

As soft as he made you feel, as much history as you had together. You couldn't help the overwhelming need to cry every time you looked at him. 

What the hell was he even doing? What were you doing?

Any plans you had dreamed of with him were now very quickly crumbling in front of your eyes. He continued to silently make tea. You hoped he wouldn't notice the stray tears that managed to escape your eyes.

You and Remus had what your brother always called real history. He just meant it was deeply engrained, in your bones, in your heart. He said it poignantly last time you popped in for a visit. His tone didn’t fail to chip at your heart.

Your years together weren’t something you could erase. Not that you wanted to. 

You were happy with him. Right? You loved him.

Maybe if you just gave him more time. You had graduated Hogwarts a mere two years ago. 

He had always been more than good to you. Even at your lowest. Even at his lowest. He was nothing but gentle and loving.

Maybe. Sometimes, love wasn't enough.

You didn’t say anything as he finished cleaning up the kitchen. He kissed your temple goodnight. You stayed up, staring at the phone line debating on calling Sirius, again. 

“I just don’t know what I should do…” you leaned against the wet metal railing of your balcony, the drops seeping into your pajama pants. You grabbed the base of the phone with one hand, the other holding the receiver up to your ear

“I don’t know why you’re asking me angel, you already know what my answer is going to be”

“Don’t be mean Sirius” he could hear the pout in your voice, and he laughed

“I’m not- you know I love Moony, we’ve been friends for ages but…”

“But?”

“I love you more” You didn’t respond. “And I think you need to love yourself more than you love him too” You could hear him inhale what you guessed was a cigarette

You hummed in acknowledgment, not daring to open your mouth at the fear that sobs would break your words.

“Don’t wear yourself out for someone that isn’t doing the same for you…”

“That’s unfair… he does”

“He forgot a card for your anniversary”

“It was a few days after the full moon…”

“Okay, what about your birthday? Or Christmas for that matter? What? D’you think I’d forget how you called crying? Every single one of those times” He said, you could feel your lip wobbling. “Come to Paris with me-”

“Sirius-”

“Just think about it okay? Promise me you’ll at least do that…”

“Okay, I will—”

“Right… ‘night love,” he said, you muttered a small goodnight “and for the record…” He hesitated for a second, almost as if he shouldn’t say it. Sirius was never one to stay quiet, he did this time. “Nevermind, I love you”

“Love you too Sirius” you answered, head hanging in defeat. The phone call clicked off.

It really wasn’t about Sirius you thought, as you guiltily crawled into bed with your boyfriend. Not about France either. You stared at his sleeping form.

It wasn’t about your and Remus’s history. It didn’t matter how long you had been together if there was no future.

It wasn’t about what your brother or Marlene, or even your mother thought. 

It was about choosing you. 

Right?

“Remus” you padded over and stood next to the small dining table that morning. 

“Yes?” He didn’t look up from his book, a bad habit he had picked up. He was never truly listening when he did that

“Remus have you applied to the job at the Ministry?”

“Mhm? Ministry…” he still didn’t look up, he took a sip of his tea “No I haven't yet, I’ll get around to it though, I just want to take my time with it you know?”

“Its an application how long can it take?” you could feel yourself start getting angry, and you looked away from him. Not that he had looked up to look you in the eyes anyway.

“I just want to give myself the best chance to get in.” he finally looked up from his book, an exasperated look on his face. You refused to meet his eyes “What's wrong with that?”

“You’ve been saying the same thing for ages Remus”

“We’ll I have other things going on— just because you have different ideas about what my progress should look like doesn't mean I’m not doing anything you know? Because I do, I do a lot actually” He said, staring at you as if daring you to deny that he did anything. 

Of course, he worked hard. You could never refute tthat. He moved his eyes down to his book.

You bit your tongue for a second, but the words slipped out nevertheless.

“Remus I don't think we can be together anymore”

“What?” the tone in his voice was nothing short of heartbroken. He searched your face for anything. Any hint that you weren't serious. “No”

Godric it was so hard to do the right thing.

“I don’t think we are on the same page anymore, you say things, you promise but…” you rubbed your temple, you could feel a headache coming “None of those promises ever come true” you sighed, finally looking at him

His eyes were rimmed red.

“You’re right,” he said, defeated, breathless.

“If you know I’m right why didn’t you just do it? I have never asked you for anything else, just for you to apply for yourself Remus, because you had said it was what you wanted”

You and Remus stared at each other. A blank look on his face as he looked at you, his nose red and tears threatening to streak down his cheeks. 

“Can you say something? Anything? Why didn’t you just do it?”

“I don’t know”

“You never know Remus, but I do and I refuse to wait for you to figure it out anymore”

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

let me know if you want to be added onto the permanent tag list ! also please check out my new series bless the telephone if you haven't already! MWAH thank you for reading <3

[leyavo]

💖 Dad!price x daughter!reader

Summary: John Price gets an angry voicemail from his ex-wife saying how his twenty year old daughter took off. He doesn’t know what he’s more angry at, the fact his ex-wife’s complaining about rent money or that you took off with her leather jacket.

But he’s going to get another call…

TW: Hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/comfort | a little bit of 141 in here too at the end. [Masterlist] This was longer than I planned too 2980 words.

John and his ex-wife were both sixteen when they had you. Price later joined the military and your mother cheated on him many times as you grew up.

You were the one to break it to your dad, but in your spite for your mother you ended up hurting him.

There were a few years you didn’t see your dad, your mother upheaving your life whenever she fell in love with a new guy. It never lasted long though, forced to stay in a hotel when things went south until she found a new place. The cycle would repeat.

The father daughter relationship was strained till he got married again and your now step mum stepped in to get you back in his life. The younger brother you never heard of and the wedding your mum had never told you about, let alone the divorce. She’d also been spending the money your dad gave her that was meant for you.

You visited your dad every now and then, but it was difficult with his job and you having school.

Fast forward to you being twenty and you leave with the first guy that can get you out of your mums house. She’s never forgiven you for telling your dad about her affairs. Easy money, she said being with a military man who rarely came home.

Things don’t seem to work out for you though, they never do. You’re sobbing whilst you clutched onto your phone, hoping your dad will answer your call.

You know when you can reach out to him, he still messaged you when he’s going dark on his missions and won’t be with his phone. Followed by a short text when he’s finished, a standard one that you don’t reply to anymore.

He does answer, the one person who always seems to pick up your call. Even though you haven’t spoken to him in months. Even though you’ve ignored his name lighting up your phone screen.

“Hey, kiddo.” His voice soft and low, you didn’t deserve his kindness. Part of you expected him to shout down the phone, but he just carried on talking to you. “You looking after yourself kid?”

“Yeah dad,” you said, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your hoody. Half a lie, tonight was the first time in ages you’d looked after yourself in the right way. No making excuses for his actions and convincing yourself it was your fault.

He hummed, music cutting off in the background as he shushed whoever was with him.

“Good to hear your voice,” you said, wanting to fill the silence. It’s like being a kid again and finally getting through to him whilst he’s at the military base, to hear him and know he’s there.

“What you doing?”

A smile tugged your lips, anything to keep you on the phone. “I’m waiting for the bus,” you said, forgetting how late it was and the fact you’d missed the last one of the night.

“On your own?”

The wind whipped through the flimsy bus shelter, your bag held on your lap for extra warmth. “Yeah, I’m a big girl now dad.”

Your mind wandered back to the basic self defence moves he’d taught you at sixteen and how when it mattered most you froze instead of fighting. What would the captain think of you?

The captain, a role he slipped back into when he didn’t know how to be there for you. Spoke to you as if he were training a fragile new recruit, measured words and slight pauses keeping him safe.

The man who told you to do anything, but be backed into a corner or made to feel small.

Small, exactly how you felt clinging onto your dad’s call. “I know you are, don’t need your old man no more eh, now that you’re grown.”

At times like this, you wished your dad would drop the tough act and baby you. He always treated you like an adult, even when you were a kid. Gave you a routine, a choice when it came to discipline, knowing that you’d rather do chores than get grounded. The captain never punishing you physically or raising his voice like your mum did. She was a whole different person when your dad went back to work for months on end.

“You still there kid?”

Tears streamed down your face, your cheeks burning in the bitter cold. “I don’t know what to do,” you sobbed, twisting the cuff of your sleeve in your hold.

You’d made such a mess. There was no way you’d go back to your mum’s and you knew that asking your dad for help wouldn’t be fair on your younger brother.

“Hey, hey kiddo. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Classic captain saying whatever you want to hear, like your someone as brave as him.

You wanted him, but couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. “Are you home?” Part of you hoping he’d say no, so that you don’t have to burden him with your problems.

“Nah, down south at the base,” he said, pausing and there’s a scuffle behind the speaker before he’s talking again. “Just me though, didn’t want to pull boyo out of school. Exams and that.” Your brother, ten years younger than you.

“Makes sense,” you sniffled, nodding as if he can see you. “I’m sorry I called so late.” Your throat burnt, nose sore from wiping it on your dad’s old hanky. Something you kept for comfort, a reminder of him. A little cigar stitched into the off white fabric.

“Don’t be sorry,” he snapped, the no nonsense captain sounding more like a man of military than your dad. “You’re okay though, that’s why you called. To check in with your old man? Well we’re all good kid, you and me don’t you worry.”

The first time talking to him since you sent him that written letter. The one where you apologised for tearing the family apart, for hurting him.

“Why can’t you just be my dad?”

There’s a clink of his phone on the other side, as if he’s dropped it. A deep breath filtering through the speaker as he exhales.

“What do you need?”

“I need you, I need my dad. Everything is so screwed up, I’m looking at this bus chart randomly picking a place or getting on the first one that shows up.” You rambled on, the weight on your chest less now that you’ve released the suppressed anger and frustration.

“Send me your location. You know how to do that, right?”

You can’t help, but chuckle at his response. Of course you know, your dad taught you how and frequently scolded you to turn it back on so he would know you’re safe. You hadn’t shared anything with him in months, your finger hovering over the button.

“Please, don’t send mum…”

“I’m on my way kiddo, an hour and a half tops. There any places you can sit inside whilst you wait?”

You don’t bother glancing around, the small street turning is far enough away from the main road. From experience you walked as long as you could, taking whatever path and ending up at a lone bus shelter. If your boyfriend drove around he wouldn’t be able to find you tucked away in a quiet road with newly built houses.

He stayed with you on the phone, giving you the colour and number plate of the car he’d be in when he arrived. You don’t have an interest in cars so the make and model goes over your head, your focus on the number plate instead.

True to his word the car rolled up by the bus stop and he’s out before it stopped.

Your hesitant steps halted as he too stopped in his tracks. His gaze falling on your split lip and blood clumped in your brow and hairline. His head turned to the side, hands shoved his pockets.

“I’m sorry, I know…” you don’t get to finish your sentence, his arms wrapping around you and your face smushing into his chest.

Pulling away from his embrace, the rain pelted down on you. He swept your wet hair out your eyes, hands framing your face as he tilted it up to look at you properly. The pad of his thumb brushed against your jawline, so close to the cut on your lip, but he didn’t touch it.

“Why don’t we get out this rain,” he said, his touch slipping from your face to scoop up your hand in his much larger one.

You don’t move with him though, stumbling towards him as you tried to tug him back. “Where are we going?” You asked, eyeing the man behind the steering wheel. There’s no way you’d go back to your mums, you’d rather wait for the bus or go back to your ex.

John smoothed his moustache, his gaze following yours to the car. “Back to the base, got a place there with my team. That okay, kid? Or there some where else you want me to take you?”

Nodding, you let him guide you to the car and open the back door. You slid in, followed by your dad who shrugged off his jacket and draped it over you. Shifting in your seat, you leant your head against the cold window and clutched the warm jacket around you closer.

“You hungry, can stop off before we go back to base,” John said, his elbow leaning on your bag on the seat between you and him.

“No, just tired,” you mumbled into his jacket. The burnt cigar and gunpowder still lingering on the fabric, like he’d smoked on the journey here.

His voice turned to a distance mumble, your eyes heavy as you let sleep take you. Your dad’s hand resting on top of yours, as if he’s trying to tell himself you’re really here.

The sun peeking through the half shut blinds woke you a few hours later. You turned over in the bed, watching your dad’s chest rise and fall beside you. His hulking form taking up most of the bed, you could feel the heat radiating off him. Even in his sleep, the line between his brows remained.

You can’t believe you called your dad, don’t even remember getting out of the car. He must have carried you in and put you to bed.

He still slept with one hand on his chest, dog tags hidden underneath his T-shirt, but you could still see the outline of them near his shoulder. Nicks and scrapes curved his bicep, you’d never seen them before. Red angry marks and faded ones of pink he normally hid under long sleeves.

The bedroom like every other base you’d stayed in whenever you visited him growing up on weekends here and there. White walls, cold wood beneath your fuzzy socks as your feet padded across the floor. Nothing but a box with a bed in the middle and small drawers either side.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, tracing the medical tape above your brow. The red stains that once clung to your hairline and forehead were clean, a purple bruise forming in its place.

Picking your hold-all from the floor, you slipped it over your shoulder and pressed your ear against the door. You couldn’t pick up any noise outside, just your dad’s low snores filling the bedroom. Probably from all those cigars he’d been smoking.

The alarm clock on the beside drawer flashed eight, thirty seven. You wanted to crawl back under the covers and sleep for another five hours, but you didn’t fancy having the conversation with your dad. How everything would unravel and lead him to finding out why you chose to leave with your boyfriend, like there was no other option. Because there wasn’t.

You pushed the door open, regretting the action as your eyes fell on the man at the kitchen table. His broad shoulders shifting at the sound of your footsteps.

There’s no use sneaking out the house, not when a team of highly trained men are living under one roof. That and the security surrounding the place.

Simon Riley, the masked driver who hadn’t said a word to you. Now you know why he covered up, the scar on his jawline lead to the neck line of his t-shirt. You tried not to stare too long, your gaze flitting to the sweater hugging his muscular arms. He could crush you in a second.

“You’ll have to wait for your old man to sign you out of the base,” Simon said through a mouth full of cereal. “Cuppa on the side for you, heard you moving about.” He pointed to the counter behind you, steam still rising from the kettle next to it.

Of course he did, probably been waiting to catch you sneaking out. Loyal to their captain the lot of them. You walked over to the small kitchenette and grabbed the strong brewed tea.

The front door opened, another guy walking through the porch and kicking his trainers off. Sweat clung to his body, T-shirt like a second skin on his visible six pack beneath. You couldn’t stop staring till he opened his mouth. Thick Scottish accent as he spoke to himself, plucking his headphones out of his ears.

He looked around your age or slightly older, not as rough and rugged as Simon or your dad. You cringed at the comparison, not wanting to think of dad as being desirable to other women.

“Ah you must be the captains daughter,” he said, reaching around you to grab a protein bar on the side. “I’m Soap,” he chuckled as your brows furrowed. “Johnny, Soaps my call sign.”

“Well that’s unfortunate,” you mumbled, sitting down at the at the table opposite Simon. Hot cup nestled between your hands. “That to remind you to have a wash?”

You edged back in your seat, the stench of sweat hitting you as Soap walked closer.

Simon’s narrowed gaze flitted from Soap to you, but he didn’t say anything. His spoon clinking the bottom of his bowl as he tried to scoop up the last remnants of cereal. If you didn’t know any better he was rushing.

“What’s yours? Hawk, no… Hulk?” Your focus darted back to Simon, anything to distract you from the hot, but sweaty guy out of the corner of your eye.

He didn’t entertain your curiosity, his chair scraping back as he collected his bowl and dumped it into the dishwasher. Soap’s deep laugh rumbled beside you, shaking his Mohawk head and disappearing down the hallway.

You found yourself leaning to one side, trying to catch a glimmer of Soaps back as he peeled his T-shirt off. John Price, however blocked the way, your back shooting back against the chair.

Simon shared a brief look with your dad, clapping him on the shoulder as he too retreated from the room.

“Damned thing keeps beeping,” John said, dropping your phone on the table. “Can’t answer it, the screen’s cracked to shit,” he grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes as he dragged his feet to the kitchen and made himself a black coffee.

Classic captain.

You stared at the cracked screen, a chain of texts and missed calls from your ex. It beeped again, your mother’s name lighting the screen.

“You gonna tell me what that’s all about?” John said leaning back in his seat, his cup of coffee balancing on his knee instead of the table. His seat at the top of the table right next to you, his knee nudging yours.

The cup in your hand no long gave you that biting sting, the tea turning cold under your stare. “Things just got bad and I can’t go back to mums.” You shrugged it off like it was no big deal, not daring to meet your dad’s eyes.

“Boyfriend?” He said pointing to your face. You nodded, wishing you hadn’t as the pounding in your head grew stronger.

He peeled your left hand away from your mug. “Where did you hit him?” He asked tracing the broken skin of your knuckles. Nothing got by the captain.

“I think I broke his nose,” you mumbled, head dipping to stare at your lap and the pattern pj trousers.

The captains head bopped up and down. “That’s good, I take it he’s alright if he’s contacting you.” He might as well have asked if he was breathing.

“How is that good?” You snapped, ripping your hand from him and pushing your chair back with you.

“You were defending yourself kid, look at ya!” His booming voice startled you, his hand flinging to your face as if you needed a reminder.

On instinct you flinched at his abrupt movement. Your body freezing and eyes clamping shut.

You opened your eyes, Simon talking in hushed tones to your dad. The captain staring at you, glassy eyed and frown tugging his lips down. And once again you’ve hurt your dad, made him feel bad.

“Why don’t we get Toff, to check her over. Another women might make her more comfortable?"

They weren't even talking to you, but about you. Too consumed with a plan than you moving. "Check yourselves over," you said, snatching your bag from the floor and rushing to the porch.

The door close, but you were yanked back by the strap of your bag. You wanted to lean towards the door, anything to escape the horror of your fuck up. One flinch and you knew, the captain was questioning everything in your life that would cause you to react like that.

"One check up, if you want to leave after I'll sign you out. No questions asked," John pleaded, knuckles turning white as they tightened around the strap of your bag.

"Okay."

Not me thinking about Price’s daughter and Soap 😅 I think he’s the youngest out of all of them? Mid twenties. This was also a lot longer than I planned, I just kept writing more. Huge possibility there are errors as I'm dyslexic and I'm writing for fun.

👀 Do you want another part??? - Leya

[jovialoddity]

I feel so cringe but I have like the biggest fattest crushes on your versions of Mr puzzles hes so pathetic and wet in your aus I love him so much like especially the human version which I know you haven't posted in a hot minute but I love his design so much I NEED THAT OLD MAN I NEED TO KISS HIS CHEEKS AND TELL HES CUTE

AAAAA WHAT THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON!! honestly you don’t need to worry about sounding cringe lol, I find it super flattering when people find a character I drew attractive! I’m especially happy to hear that about human Mr Puzzles because that design is one of my favorites to draw currently and knowing other people like it too is just really nice :’) 💖

And don’t you worry, I PROMISE I’m working on some actual Human Puzzles art on the side… don’t wanna let the 5 people following for human Puzzles content starve for much longer. Here’s a sneak peek just for you

[t1red-twilight]

you remembered?

summary: dean isn’t used to celebrating his birthday.

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, some angst, allusions to abuse/neglect, john winchester when i catch you john winchester

notes: happy birthday dean!

word count: 1.1k

masterlist d. w. masterlist

there were a few things that you knew about dean. one, he was a night owl. two, he preferred pancakes over waffles. and three, he was not used to his birthday being remembered, let alone celebrated.

in all the time that you had known him you weren’t even told when his birthday was, at least for a while. given the constant life or death circumstances, it hadn’t crossed your mind to ask when it was or why you didn’t celebrate it. about six months ago you and sam were alone, and you remembered to ask.

sam told you what the date of his birthday was (january twenty-fourth), and the next thing he said just about made your jaw go slack. “we never really celebrated it,” he stated.

“what do you mean, you never celebrated it?”

sam pondered for a moment. “well, our dad always said that we didn’t have time for birthdays or christmas. it just wasn’t something we ever did, i guess.” you swallowed the words you wished to say. lord knows that if you spoke what you were thinking, you might get in trouble.

but sam continued. “dean celebrated my birthday with me a couple times, but our dad didn’t…take that too well. i think after a while he just forgot our birthdays.” your heart sunk. everything you learned about that man made you lean towards violence just a little bit more.

so, you took everything sam had said and you stored it in your brain for later use. eventually, his birthday approached. you figured he wouldn’t be into something super loud and big, considering that he hadn’t had a birthday celebration in what seemed to be quite a while.

two weeks before his birthday, you sat down and planned what you were going to do. you wanted something small, but nonetheless something that at least would make him feel recognized.

-

when dean woke up, he noticed that you weren’t in the bed next to him. he sat up, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked around the room. you were nowhere to be seen.

he did notice, however, that the door to your shared bedroom was slightly ajar. and faintly he could hear the noise of pots and pan gently clanking in the kitchen.

he meandered out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. and there you stood, making breakfast. now you didn’t really have designated meal times; the two of you just ate whenever it seemed necessary. so the oddity of this current situation was not lost to him. “what are you doing?” he questioned.

turning, you saw him standing in the entrance in the kitchen. his shirt was ruffled and you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. smiling, you answered. “i’m making breakfast.” his eye eyebrows slightly raised, and it seemed as if he looked a little bit shocked.

“why, though?” he followed through with his questioning. “you know, we don’t usually do stuff like this.” nothing in his tone was accusatory. if anything, the volume of his voice lowered in an unusual manner.

you turned back around to face the bacon that you were currently frying. hopefully you weren’t overstepping. maybe he just didn’t like his birthday? perhaps you shouldn’t have done anything at all.

you heard soft footsteps approach you from behind. dean’s hands moved to rest up upon your hips. slowly, he turned you around to look at him. his eyes, they looked…glassy? your brow knit together and your hands went up to hold his cheeks. his bottom lip began to quiver almost imperceptibly.

a silence filled the room. you could only hear the soft splattering of the bacon from behind you, and maybe even the soft hums of his breath as he looked at you. when you spoke, you made sure that your voice was lowered. you didn’t know if sam was here, and it was likely that dean would not want sam to overhear what was going on. “well, it’s kind of an important day. it’s pretty special.“

at this, you saw him look away briefly and blink rapidly. was he trying not to cry? you used your hands and moved his face back to face yours. “are you okay?“ you asked. oh god, you overstepped. and now, he was upset.

surprisingly, he nodded. “yes. i’m great,” he replied. you didn’t push him any further than he wanted to go.

a small, singular tear escaped from the corner of his eye. your thumb rose off his cheek and swiped it away. dean lowered his head into the crook of your shoulder, and pulled you close to him. his hands were sprawled across your back and held you ever so tightly. it looked as though his shoulders were shaking slightly, he was crying. you didn’t say anything.

you mirrored his motions, and pulled him close to you as well. you scratched his back lightly, and ran one hand through his hair. you reached behind yourself and turned the stove off to avoid any accidents. the embrace might have lasted for a few minutes or even longer, but you didn’t really know or care.

then, he spoke. his voice, though muffled, still communicated what he wanted to say clearly. “thank you for remembering,” he said. the quiver in his voice was not lost to you. how could it be that some cheap, overcooked bacon was eliciting such a response?

you kissed the part of his head that was most accessible to you and whispered back to him. “of course. it’s a special day, and you’re special to me.” he pulled away and looked at you. dean’s cheeks were damp and his lips were swollen from crying.

“no one’s ever done something like this for me i-“ a sob wracked his body and cut him off. you pulled him down to kiss you.

you hadn’t known dean for that long, one and a half, maybe two years. but in that time you really gotten close. and while you never verbally defined anything you both knew where the two of you stood.

dean kissed you back instantaneously and with such a fervor that sent a chill up your spine. you could feel the tears that slipped down his face, but didn’t mind in the slightest.

you pulled away and he kissed you once more in a pecking motion. your thumbs wiped away the tears that remained. “and i was thinking,” you started, “that we could go to the diner in town later. get some dinner and pie?”

“just you and me?” he asked, his face lighting up gently.

“yeah. just you and me.”

[itsnesss]

HI may i request a junho fic where junho keeps seeing reader and arresting her and taking her into custody and she keeps saying “this is the last time you’ll see me” and then he arrests her like two days later and hes like “are you doing this on purpose?” and reader is like “maybe” and then it escalates from there into freaky time 🤭🤭

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | criminal behavior (theft), smut, explicit content, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You know what you're doing is wrong. You know it perfectly well. However, the risk and the possibility of being caught keep you moving. Your fingers graze the edge of a chocolate bar in a small convenience store. "It's no big deal," you tell yourself. A candy here, a poorly secured wallet there, always minor things. You don't need to do it, but something inside you pushes you.

You're about to leave the store with the chocolate hidden in your sleeve when you hear a familiar, firm voice behind you:

"Stop right there!"

Your heart skips a beat. It's him again. Slowly, you turn around, facing those dark eyes that seem to pierce you every time they meet yours. It's Officer Hwang Jun-ho, the same man who caught you a couple of weeks ago.

"You again?" he says incredulously, crossing his arms.

You smile as if it's some inside joke between the two of you.

"I guess I'm consistent, Officer."

He doesn't seem amused. His lips press into a thin line as he takes a step closer, making you instinctively step back. He observes you for a moment, as if trying to decipher your intentions.

"Hand over the chocolate," he says finally, extending his hand.

"What chocolate?" you ask with feigned innocence, raising your hands as if offended.

Jun-ho has no patience for your games. In a quick motion, he grabs your wrist and retrieves the candy from your sleeve. His touch is firm but not painful. You feel trapped, but not in a way that bothers you.

"You’re under custody for attempted theft," he declares, pulling handcuffs from his belt.

"Seriously? For a chocolate bar?" you protest, though you make no effort to resist.

He doesn't answer, simply leading you out of the store toward his patrol car. As you walk beside him, you can't help but notice him. There's something about his seriousness, the way his uniform fits his figure, that makes you want to provoke him even more.

The second time he catches you is at a street market. You're playing with a cheap keychain, pretending to be interested, when you "accidentally" slip it into your pocket. You barely take two steps before feeling a firm hand on your shoulder.

"Really?" Jun-ho says, his voice laced with incredulity.

You turn to face him, putting on your best innocent expression.

"Officer? What a coincidence."

He doesn't seem impressed. His gaze is stern, but you can see a spark of something else in his eyes. Maybe curiosity. Maybe irritation. Maybe something even he doesn't fully understand.

"Let’s go," he says, guiding you once again to his patrol car.

The ride to the station is silent this time, but the tension in the air is palpable. You can feel his gaze on you occasionally, as if trying to figure out your intentions. When you finally arrive, he lets you go with another warning.

"Don't do it again," he says with a seriousness that almost makes you feel guilty.

Almost.

The third time, you decide to be more obvious. You grab a pair of expensive headphones from a display case in a mall and head for the exit without even trying to hide them. It’s a bold move, but you know he’ll be nearby. And you’re right.

Before you can leave, you feel a hand on your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

"This has gone too far!" Jun-ho exclaims, his voice filled with frustration.

You turn to face him, trying hard not to smile.

"Oh, Officer, I thought we wouldn’t meet again."

He stares at you, his jaw clenched.

"What are you doing? Why do you keep doing this?"

"Why do you think?" you reply, leaning slightly toward him, invading his personal space.

Jun-ho seems thrown off for a moment, as if unsure how to respond. Finally, he leads you to a secluded alley instead of the station.

"Talk," he demands, crossing his arms. "Why do you keep stealing? You don’t need to do this. I know that."

You take a step closer, closing the distance between you.

"And what if I told you I do it for you?"

He blinks, surprised.

"What?"

"Maybe I like seeing you like this," you say, your eyes locked on his. "So serious. So frustrated. Maybe I want your attention."

Jun-ho studies you, his expression a mix of confusion and something deeper.

"Are you saying all of this was intentional?"

"Maybe," you murmur, leaning in even closer.

He grips your shoulders, his gaze searching for something in yours.

"This is insane," he murmurs, but he doesn’t pull away.

"Then stop me," you challenge, your voice barely a whisper.

Before you can say anything else, he kisses you. It’s an unexpected move, filled with all the tension that had been building between you two. It’s not soft or gentle, but it’s everything you hoped for. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart as the kiss deepens.

His hands, initially on your shoulders, slide to your waist, pulling you closer. Rationality takes a backseat as both of you get lost in the moment. No words are needed; everything is conveyed in the way his lips move against yours, in the way his hands hold you as if he doesn’t want to let go.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless. Jun-ho looks at you with a mix of disbelief and something deeper.

"I can’t believe this just happened," he says, shaking his head.

You smile, still catching your breath.

"Maybe I should steal more often."

He chuckles softly, though his expression remains serious.

"You’re trouble, you know that?"

"And you seem to enjoy solving it."

Jun-ho sighs, but he can’t hide the small smile forming on his lips.

"This doesn’t change anything. It’s still my responsibility to stop you."

"Please do," you reply with a wink, knowing this won’t be the last time you provoke him.

Jun-ho takes a deep breath, trying to regain control. But his hands remain on your waist, as if he can’t bring himself to let you go. Suddenly, his eyes harden with determination.

"This is insane," he murmurs, stepping back. His hand moves to his belt, pulling out the handcuffs.

"What are you going to do, Officer? Cuff me?"

He doesn’t respond. With a swift and efficient motion, he secures the cuffs around your wrists. The metallic click of the locks makes your heart race even faster.

"Are you seriously taking me to the station for this?" you ask, but there’s a playful tone in your voice, as if you’re enjoying this turn of events.

Jun-ho studies you for a moment, and for the first time, he seems to hesitate.

"No. Not to the station."

"Then where?"

"To my apartment. We need to talk."

The seriousness in his tone surprises you, but you don’t have time to question it. He leads you to his car and helps you into the passenger seat, your hands still cuffed. The silence between you during the ride is heavy, charged with palpable tension.

When you arrive at his apartment, he helps you out of the car and escorts you inside. The space is neat, minimalist, but cozy. Jun-ho carefully removes the cuffs, his fingers brushing against your skin.

"Sit," he says, gesturing to the couch.

But instead of obeying, you step closer to him, challenging the distance he’s trying to maintain.

"Do you really think you need to do this?" you murmur, your words a whisper between the two of you.

Jun-ho closes his eyes for a moment, as if trying to gather his strength. But when he opens them, something in his gaze has changed. He grabs your arms, his grip firm but not aggressive.

"I don’t know what you do to me," he confesses in a low voice, his breath brushing against your skin.

"Then stop overthinking," you reply, leaning toward him.

This time, the kiss you share is even more intense than the last. The tension that had been building for weeks finally erupts in a whirlwind of emotions. His hands find your waist again, and yours slide up to his neck as you both surrender to the moment.

Without breaking the kiss, Jun-ho guides you toward his bedroom. The intimacy of his personal space only heightens the heat between you. The touches grow more desperate, breaths mix, and clothing begins to disappear, piece by piece.

Your heart races a thousand miles an hour, but there is no fear in it. Just need.

When you both fall into bed, you are aware that everything has changed forever. This is not just sex. It's much more. It's the culmination of all the times it caught you, challenged you to continue, gave in to your provocations.

When he positions himself over you, his eyes lock onto yours for a moment before taking his time. He positions himself between your legs, caressing them as he enters you. Both of you gasp, the pleasure simmering slowly inside you. Jun-ho's movements are slow, deliberate, as if he were trying to prolong this moment forever.

"I'm very close," he murmured softly, his teeth finding the lobe of your ear. "And you?"

"Yes," you whisper, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you both reach climax.

The pleasure that envelops you is overwhelming. It's not a simple orgasm, but a profound experience, something that changes you from within. They both stand still for a moment as the world readjusts around them. Then, their lips find yours in a soft kiss, but full of meaning.

Later, while they lie together in bed, their bodies intertwined, Jun-ho looks at you with an expression that mixes exhaustion and tenderness.

"This wasn't in the procedure manual," he says with a weak smile.

You laugh softly, caressing his face.

"Maybe you should write a new one" .

He sighs, kissing your forehead.

"You are a lost cause" .

"And you are completely stuck with me, officer".

[gs29]

The First Kick

Squid Game Master list The sun was low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the city. Jun Ho sat in his office, the files in front of him a stark contrast to the vibrant world outside. He was always buried in paperwork, and though it felt monotonous at times, it was his job—his responsibility. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he looked at his phone for the tenth time in an hour. There were a few messages from you, but he hadn’t gotten the chance to respond yet. His heart softened whenever he saw your name flash on the screen, but he knew that if he kept replying, he’d get caught up in the warmth of your words and not finish his work.

It wasn’t long before his phone buzzed again, this time with a call. Your name lit up the screen, and his heart skipped.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice tinged with a quiet warmth.

“Jun Ho,” your voice was soft, but there was an undeniable excitement there. “You’re not busy, right?”

“I’m never too busy for you,” he replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced at his colleagues, who were all focused on their own work.

“I think the baby just kicked,” you said, breathless with joy. “I swear I felt it. It was tiny, but it’s the first time I’ve felt it. It’s real, Jun Ho.”

His breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected this. He was used to being the one who did the protecting, the one who made things happen, but hearing your voice, filled with wonder and joy, made him realize that there was something bigger than anything he had ever faced.

“You felt it?” he asked, his voice suddenly tight. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said, giggling a little. “I swear. I thought it was just gas at first, but it wasn’t. It’s like a little tap, right in the middle of my belly. Our baby. I can’t believe it.”

Jun Ho closed his eyes for a moment, trying to absorb the flood of emotions that overwhelmed him. The baby. Their baby. Their child was growing inside you, and it was real. More real than anything he had ever imagined.

“Hold on,” he said quickly, standing up from his desk and grabbing his jacket. His colleagues barely looked up as he walked briskly past them. “I’m coming home.”

“Wait, Jun Ho,” you said, your voice softer now, almost teasing. “Don’t rush. You’re at work—”

“I’m leaving,” he cut you off, his voice decisive. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Just hold on.”

He didn’t wait for a response, ending the call and heading out the door. His heart was racing—not out of anxiety, but out of excitement. The baby had kicked. The baby. He had heard you talk about it before, but hearing you actually experience it was different. It was something visceral, something real. And now, he couldn’t wait to hold you, to touch your belly and feel the life inside you.

Jun Ho barely noticed the ride home. He was lost in thought, his mind replaying the moment you had described, imagining what it would have been like to be there. He could picture you—sitting in the living room, hand resting on your stomach, eyes wide with wonder as you experienced the first real sign of their child’s presence. The thought made his chest tighten. How had he gotten so lucky?

When he arrived home, he practically rushed to the door, fumbling with the keys before finally getting it open. The moment he stepped inside, he saw you sitting on the couch, looking up at him with an expectant smile.

“Jun Ho, you didn’t have to—”

“I had to,” he said, dropping his jacket on the chair and kneeling in front of you. His eyes softened as he reached for your hands, gently lifting them to his lips and pressing a kiss to each palm. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the first kick. But I’m here now. I’m not missing anything else.”

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I was thinking about you. I wanted you to be here when it happened.”

He reached for your belly, his hands trembling just slightly. He had never thought of himself as the emotional type, but there was something about the life growing inside you that made him feel things he couldn’t put into words. He leaned his forehead against your stomach, his hands resting on either side, and he closed his eyes.

“What’s it like?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s… hard to explain,” you said, your voice full of wonder. “It’s like a flutter. Like someone’s poking you from the inside. But it’s not painful. It’s just… amazing.”

He nodded, as though he could feel it too. He wanted to experience that connection with the child—his child—just as deeply as you did. His hand moved gently over your belly, his touch tender and reverent.

You watched him with a fond smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at the sight of him. His eyes were closed, but he looked so peaceful, so focused. It was rare for Jun Ho to let his guard down like this, but you could tell that this moment meant everything to him.

Then, just as you were about to speak, you felt another small flutter beneath your skin. It was subtle, but unmistakable. You gasped, your eyes widening. “Jun Ho, it’s happening again!”

His eyes snapped open, his expression intense. He quickly placed his hand over the spot where he’d felt the first kick earlier, waiting. His heartbeat seemed to match the rhythm of yours, his hand tense with anticipation.

And then, it came. A tiny but unmistakable tap against his palm.

He froze. His hand pressed against you more firmly, and he leaned in closer, as if to reassure himself that it was real. His eyes were wide, filled with amazement. “I felt it. I felt it!”

You laughed softly, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. “I told you.”

Jun Ho looked at you, his expression softening. There was a depth to his gaze, a rawness that made you feel like he saw right through you. He wasn’t just looking at you, but at the life you two had created together.

He gently kissed your belly, his lips brushing over the spot where their child had just kicked. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m proud of both of you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you gazed down at him, at the man who had always been your protector, your rock—and now, the father of your child. “We’re going to be a family, Jun Ho,” you said, your voice breaking with emotion. “A real family.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening as he stood up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said quietly. “For you. For our family.”

And for the first time in what felt like a long time, Jun Ho allowed himself to truly feel. He wasn’t just a police officer or an investigator—he was a husband, soon-to-be father, and in this moment, that meant everything.

The baby kicked again, a gentle tap, as if to say, I'm here, too.

Jun Ho smiled, pressing his hand against your belly once more. This was just the beginning. And he couldn’t wait to experience it all with you by his side.

[sjsmith56]

You Know You Love Me

Summary: Bucky drives another member of the Avengers crazy with his teasing of her, and the non-stop women that he dates.

Length: 3.4 K

Characters: Bucky, unnamed and undescribed fem!reader

Warnings: Cursing, Bucky being insufferable, condescension, interference in reader’s dating life

Author notes: Avenger AU; Thanos never happened in this universe.

There were times when Bucky Barnes could be really irritating. Actually, it was most of the time. Living in the tower with him was like having the most irritating big brother / roommate / overbearing neighbour ever, trying to run your life. The worst moments were when he would say something just to get a rise out of me. He’d say it, then smirk, then the smile would get broader as he watched my reaction, then he would practically laugh when I’d call him on his bullshit. Those perfect teeth would be fully exposed, and I swear there would be a lens flare sparkle effect on them as his eyes crinkled in amusement. It was maddening.

He always had an opinion on everything, from TV shows, movies, favourite foods and especially with what I wore, and shared it whether I wanted to hear it or not.

“Sweetheart, you should wear that blue dress more often on your dates,” he would say, or something similar to it. “It will make your eyes pop.”

“You telling me what to wear, Barnes?” I would answer. “You practically live in your dark jeans and Henleys.”

“That’s because they’re comfortable,” he would reply, with a grin. “After what I went through in my life, I’m entitled to a little comfort in my old age, aren’t I?”

“Eat shit,” would be my response, except I never said it aloud as he was still a man of the 40s and would act all concerned at the language people used, which was rich coming from him, as he swore more than I did.

To be honest, I couldn’t really call him out on his life because he was tortured for most of it, and technically he was a centenarian. But to watch him just grin, with that look he often had after saying something outrageous to me, knowing I was holding my tongue, brought out the worst in me. Of course, the other Avengers would say he obviously liked me because he was normally Mr. Silent and Grumpy with all of them.

“Take the smile,” said Sam. “It’s proof the man has a heart.”

“But it bugs me,” I explained. “Drives me up the wall.”

“That’s why he does it,” smiled the winged man. “He obviously likes you and thinks you can handle it.”

That was the real problem for me; I couldn’t handle his attention, seemingly focused just on me. None of the others got as much scrutiny as I did. It didn’t help that the man was insanely gorgeous, with that thick dark hair, intense blue eyes, a jawline and cheekbones that rivalled those of any Hollywood heartthrob, topped off by an incredible smile. Physically, he was the type of man that women drooled over; tall, broad shouldered, sculpted waist, an ass that filled out his jeans so well, and thighs that gave me all sorts of thoughts. Which was another reason why I did my best to ignore or insult him. You would think I would know that my tactics weren’t working but the alternative to his attention was not getting it and that was unthinkable.

He had lots of female company, based on the number of times he came out of his room in the morning with a different woman for the walk of shame to the elevator. He’d stroke their hair, say how much fun he had, kiss them softly on their lips, then send them on their way, never to be seen again. It hurt, and I didn’t think I could compete against that. Not that I ever really tried.

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy with myself. After falling into that trap of denying myself anything that might stick to my figure, I realized I was playing a sucker’s game. I liked food, I liked enjoying myself, and so what if I wasn’t a perfect size 2. I was perfect the way I was, loved my curves and loved showing them off. Dates weren’t a problem, although second dates weren’t automatic, and third dates were rare. I often wondered why that was.

Somehow, Bucky would always be around when my date was picking me up for the first time. He would lean against a wall, his arms folded, gazing intently at the man who showed up. Occasionally he would speak to them with something along the lines of bringing me home before curfew. They would look at him, then me, to determine if he was kidding. It didn’t help when he said it was part of my “parole conditions.” Even if Bucky started grinning and say he was joking, more often than not those would be the dates that didn’t progress beyond the first one. If I did get asked out again, he would be waiting even nearer to us, almost like a lurking parent.

“Did you remember to take your infectious disease medication?” he would sometimes ask.

“Bucky, you know damn well I’m as healthy as a super soldier.”

“Yeah, now you are,” he’d say, with a straight face. “Gotta stay vigilant. Remember Typhoid Mary appeared healthy.”

The last time it happened, and Bucky said something really outrageous, the guy decided not to follow up with any more dates, so I confronted Bucky the next morning.

“Why are you always interfering in my love life?” I was almost apoplectic in my anger. “You told him I had to be home to tuck the kids in.”

“You can do better than him, sweetheart,” he answered. “If he really liked you, he would have asked to meet the kids. He wasn’t right for you. None of them are.”

I was done with his interference.

“How would you know? When was the last time you had a steady girlfriend?”

“Haven’t found the right one, yet,” he said. “But I get lots of action during the search, so I’m not too concerned.”

“Yeah? Sometimes I wonder if you have your lady friends over here just to make me jealous.” A flicker of something appeared in his eyes and quickly disappeared. I obviously hit a target. “You see me giving your dates the third degree?”

“They know our dates are casual,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I don’t lead them on.” The grin appeared again. “They just want a taste and I’m happy to oblige.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” I was in serious danger of losing it. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to start dragging guys to my bedroom. See how you like it then.”

With what I hoped was dramatic effect I whirled around and stomped away, not looking back. He just made me so angry. What he didn’t know was that I went straight to my room, turned on the TV really loud, then buried my face in my pillow and cried. Cried for letting him bother me; cried for being jealous of the women he brought back; cried for obviously not being someone he saw as worthy of dating. I hated to admit it, but I was in love with him, but I also knew I was nothing like the women he brought back for the night. They were beautiful; tall, graceful, perfect hair and teeth. Even though I liked myself I still felt like I was a 6 compared to their 9s. I didn’t think he would ever think of me as anything other than someone to tease.

It didn’t help that before I came to the tower, I was in a disastrous relationship with a SHIELD agent who was just as handsome as Bucky. He broke my heart when I learned he was cheating on me, and I didn’t want to be put into that position again. I put up all my emotional guards and just did my job. Except Bucky kept chipping away at me. I was tired of it. Did I already say he drove me crazy? This boomeranging between loving him and hating him wore me out.

For a week after that last confrontation, I wouldn’t talk to him. I wouldn’t even stay in the same room with him as I was so mad at myself for loving him. He didn’t bring any women back to his quarters during that week, so I guessed that my words had an effect.

That lasted until I went out to a nightclub with a bunch of college friends that I hadn’t seen in a while. I was dressed to the nines that night, in a slinky dress, cut low in the front and back, showing a lot of leg. I did my hair, wore makeup, nice jewelry … the works. We walked into the place like we owned it, and heads turned as we made our entrance. Drinking and dancing like it was the first day of the rest of our lives, we drew lots of male attention (and some female, as a couple of my girlfriends were lesbians). It was fun and liberating at the same time.

I was on the dance floor, grinding my ass against a guy as we danced when I saw them; Bucky and Sam, sitting at the bar. I couldn’t believe they would follow me. Women were hitting on both and every time I looked Bucky would lean over, whisper something in their ear, then pull back with that sexy smile he had. I was sure he was doing it deliberately. When we finally made eye contact, he lifted his glass to me. What an asshole.

“Who’s an asshole?” asked the guy I was dancing with, raising his voice so I could hear him over the music.

I must have said it out loud.

“Just a guy from work who showed up here,” I yelled back. “He’s always on my case. We had words and I told him off. Now he’s here and I just find his presence annoying.”

“You want me to tell him to leave?” he asked. “I don’t mind.”

Before I could answer he left me on the dance floor and made his way to Bucky. I watched him point back to me then say something. That smirk came out, then Bucky looked at me and shook his head. Working my way off the dance floor I confronted him, swaying lightly as I was definitely under the influence.

“Why are you here?”

“Baby, I just told him to leave,” said my dance partner. “Come on, he’s just being a dick.”

“Seriously, Bucky, why did you follow me?”

He looked at Sam, then at the guy I had danced with, then back at me, sizing me up in a way that made me a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t know you were here. We often hang out here, don’t we Sam? Good booze, nice staff, and great music.”

Sam said nothing, just arched his eyebrows a little. The guy I danced with was getting impatient.

“Bullshit, you hate this music,” I said. “You always go to that jazz place on the east side.”

That smirk twitched at the side of Bucky’s mouth. “How would you know? You been watching me?”

“No,” I answered defensively. “People post pics on Instagram. You’re a celebrity.”

The guy looked at Bucky again then at Sam and his brain suddenly put two and two together.

Bucky scoffed. “Thought I would find out what the appeal with this place is,” he answered, then he looked at the guy who was definitely figuring out he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Gotta say, I’m not that impressed.”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I retorted, trying to appear put together, then losing my balance. He caught me before I tripped over the heels I was wearing. “Thank you. Now, I’m going back to dancing with my friend here. You can just … just … buzz off.”

I waved my hand at him dismissively, then turned back to the dance floor, grabbing hold of the guy’s arm. As I headed back into the throng of dancers with him, I lost my balance again and almost fell, but felt a strong pair of arms catch me up in their arms. It was Bucky.

“Put me down,” I said.

“No, you’re going home,” he answered. “You’ve had enough.”

“She asked you to put her down.” Bucky glared at him.

“You're not my dad,” I slurred. “Or my boyfriend. You don’t get to tell me when I’ve had enough.”

“That’s true,” he answered, still holding me in the middle of that dance floor as the other dancers ignored us. All I could see was that cute cleft in his chin. God, I wanted to lick it. “But I am your friend, and I think you should call it a night.”

It was like the other guy didn’t even exist. Bucky thought he was my friend? Never before had he said that and for some reason, it made me cry. Every time I tried to stop, I couldn’t and I buried my face in his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. Calmly, he carried me off the dance floor to where Sam was, holding my purse and jacket. I still don’t know what happened to the guy I was dancing with, but he didn’t follow us.

“I’ll get the car,” said Sam. “She’s going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“She’ll be alright,” replied Bucky, then he looked at me in a way he never had before. “You really need to know your limit.”

“Are you mad at me?” My voice sounded pathetic, even to me.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not mad.” He was still holding me in his arms. “I’m actually sorry.”

We were waiting at the door now, where it was quieter and the pounding in my head that I knew came from how much I drank began bothering me. He stood me upright for a moment, helping me on with my jacket.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked as he buttoned it up.

He breathed out noticeably. “I went about things the wrong way. I might be over a hundred years old but when it comes to women I like, I forget how to act around them.”

I swayed a little, and he put his arm around me, supporting me.

“Who do you like?”

Sam’s car appeared and Bucky helped me into the back seat, buckling me up. Not that it helped as I wanted to lie down and close my eyes. Sam shrugged as Bucky got into the back seat and put his arm around my shoulders so that I leaned against him. He was so warm, and his arm felt so nice and comforting.

“You smell good,” I murmured. That was the last thing I remembered until we got to the tower.

When we got there, I know that he picked me up like I weighed nothing and held me in the elevator until we reached the residential section. He carried me to my room then I could hear Natasha’s voice. For some reason that made me cry again, but she was so nice, telling me to let it out. I ended up in a T-shirt and shorts, tucked into the bed.

“There’s a glass of water and some pain killers on the nightstand,” she said softly. “Next time you wake up, take them, okay?”

She left me there although I could hear her and Bucky talking in Russian, but not understanding it, I didn’t know what they were saying. I just wanted to sleep, and I did, like the proverbial dead. When I did finally open my eyes, the light hurt, even though the curtains were drawn. I took the painkillers and drank the glass of water, then promptly ran to the bathroom, and brought it all up. As I sat on the floor, holding my head in my hands while I leaned against the bathtub, I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Go away,” I muttered. “Let me die in peace.”

“Were you sick?” It was Bucky.

“No.”

“Sweetheart, I could hear you. Clint could hear you and he wears hearing aids.”

I closed my eyes, then fought the urge to cry. He must have heard that because he spoke again, in a softer tone.

“Please, let me come in.”

“Fine.”

The door opened and he stepped inside. He turned the cold water tap on then filled the glass with water. Lowering himself to the floor, he sat next to me, holding out two new painkillers.

“I’m guessing you didn’t keep the last ones down,” he said. “You really tied one on last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was trying to forget,” I answered, taking the pills and holding them in my hand.

I took the water in my other hand and sipped it. When my stomach felt better, I swallowed the pills and washed them down with more water. Without thinking, I sighed, and put the glass down on the floor, reaching for some toilet paper so I could blow my nose. Bucky said nothing.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m trying to forget?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” he answered, just a little too quickly. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk to you. I kind of got carried away.”

I huffed a little. “Why do you act like you do?”

“No excuse for that,” he answered. “None that are valid, other than making up for lost time. Even that is suspect.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, then scratching his stubble with his fingers, he turned those blue eyes on me.

“I’ve been trying to make you jealous,” he said. “Juvenile I know. I can turn on the charm for most women, but for the one who I really want, I can’t seem to say the right thing. It makes you respond in kind and instead of us getting closer, it just pushes us further apart.”

“You want me? I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? You’re beautiful, smart, and you have a razor-sharp wit that I love. The worst of it is that other guys see it too, so I got a little prehistoric and bared my teeth at them, figuratively speaking. I’m sorry about that. You deserve better.”

“It hurt when you would bring all those women back here,” I said, frowning. “Then you pulled that double standard shit on me, by chasing away my dates.”

“I know. Guilty as charged. No excuses.” He breathed out. “You know how my senses are amplified?” I nodded. “None of them smelled as good as you. That probably sounds weird, but their scents were all chemical and fake compared to you.”

It was weird. “What did I smell like?”

“Home.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

Before I could say anything else, he kissed me, even though my mouth must have tasted of barf. He didn’t care, and it was the best kiss I ever had, making me feel weak and dizzy and aroused all at the same time. Then he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me some more, while putting one hand around to the nape of my neck while the other one wrapped around my body. Just as I was really getting into it, he stopped, then cupped my jaw in his one hand.

“You need to have a shower and brush your teeth.”

“You kissed me,” I countered. “I figured it didn’t matter.”

“It matters. I just wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“Know what?”

“That you know you love me.” That smirk came out, along with the lens flare on those perfect teeth. Just as I was about to argue the point, he kissed me again. “I love you, too and I’ll tell you that in public and private as many times as I can until you believe it.”

He lifted me off of his lap and deposited me on the bathroom floor. Then he stood up and went to the door, looking back at me.

“You’re so cute when you don’t know what to say. I’ll be out here waiting for you.”

He thought I was cute. At my age I would take it. He was right about several things. I did know that I loved him. Now that I knew for sure that he loved me too, it was going to be interesting finding out where that love would take us.

One Shots Masterlist

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[cinnamanz]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter six!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

wc: 506

JUST LIKE OLD TIMES

SOPHIA SAT STIFFLY AT THE DINNER TABLE, her fork clutched in one hand while her eyes kept drifting—against her better judgment—toward y/n. the last time they’d seen each other, they were 15, attached to the hip and laughing like there was no tomorrow.

the last time they’d spoken… well, it was when sophia had made that confession. a crushing wave of teenage emotion that had spilled out of her lips and turned her world upside down.

now, eight years later, y/n sat across from her, poking at her food, her once-bright eyes now guarded and distant. impossibly grown, impossibly beautiful, and impossibly… awkward.

her hair was cut differently now—though tousled—, her posture straighter, her smile—well, there wasn’t one. she used to talk a mile a minute, but now, the silence surrounding her was deafening.

she was so different. so cool. looking away, it was all sophia could do not to stare, and she was failing miserably.

y/n caught her gaze and raised a brow, a small “what?” falling flatly.

“n-nothing,” sophia stammered, dropping her fork with a loud clang onto her plate.

carla, sophia’s mom, chimed in cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the tension thick enough to cut. “so, y/n, how have you been? it’s been so long since you and sophia talked! i can’t even remember the last time you were both together.”

y/n barely reacted, her fork pausing mid-air for only a second before she answered. “i’ve been fine. busy.”

sophia’s stomach twisted. busy? that was it? eight years, and all y/n could muster was busy?

carla continued, her smile unshaken. “well, that’s good to hear! you know, sophia was so upset after you moved. she talked about you all the time. it was like you never really left.”

y/n’s gaze flicked up briefly, holding sophia’s for the first time all night rather than looking away immediately. her expression was unreadable—detached, cool, and devoid of any warmth. sophia felt her throat tighten as y/n’s eyes lingered for a second before dropping back to her plate.

“yeah,” y/n said quietly, her voice carrying no emotion. “i guess it’s been a while.”

sophia felt the words catch in her throat. she wanted to say something—anything—but she couldn’t figure out if she wanted to yell or cry. y/n’s nonchalant tone was infuriating, as though those eight years hadn’t meant anything, as though sophia’s confession and the silence that followed didn’t matter.

“you know,” carla chimed in, completely missing the tension, “it’s so great to see you two in the same room again. just like old times, huh?”

this time, sophia laughed bitterly under her breath. “yeah. just like old times.”

when y/n’s eyes flicked up again and met sophia’s own, for the first time all night, her cold facade faltered just slightly. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to make sophia’s stomach twist again.

they both looked away, the silence hanging heavier than ever. maybe this wasn’t like old times at all. maybe it couldn’t be.

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@zindoriyo @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @jjjaliyah @meganskiendielsbtc @magixpracticality @phamapple @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @ssamlovr @sunshinez4 @meiyaes @solentient @jsxjmn @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @danisluvv @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @nyssalvr @blushmimi TAGLIST CLOSED.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi I saw you wanted requests for older!eddie/sugar daddy!eddie and I have ideas! It’s a little sad so I’m sorry about that. Happy ending tho!

I can picture Eddie looking for a sugar baby because he’s had so much trouble with women in the past. He was always an outcast and he has a hard time believing someone wants to spend time with him. You’d been friendly (maybe like coworkers or neighbors) and when he offers the arrangement at first your like “you don’t need to pay me to spend time with you I like you” and you help him see how wonderful he is and show him how attractive he is.

Or alternatively (and way more smutty), you match on a sugar daddy/sugar baby site or chatroom or whatever and you and him have crazy good chemistry and then when you send him pics he’s like- holy shit it’s you the girl he’s been crushing on forever. Or maybe he doesn’t know you irl and the reader is a cam girl and Eddie pays for private zoom calls and you’re so surprised cause omg this client is so hot.

cw: MDNI (18+) Eddie receives a handjob, age gap (reader is 25 and Eddie is 40)

Eddie’s definitely the first to admit that he doesn’t have great luck in the dating department. He’s been on more dates than he can count, but for whatever reason, it never goes past more than one.

He doesn’t get it. He’s got the money and he thought the ladies loved that kind of thing. He’s even offered to buy them whatever they want, but that never seems to work as they often think he’s just flashing his wealth at them.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. He’s not asking for much either. He just wants someone who he can spend time with, someone he can spoil because he’s got more money that he knows what do with.

So when Steve and Robin suggest that he become a sugar daddy, he immediately thinks that’s the answer. It seems like the perfect arrangement. He gets what he wants and there’s no actual attachment. He just doesn’t know who he’d offer it up to.

When he sees you at your desk when he heads to his office, he decides you’re the perfect candidate. He’s constantly heard you complain about your financial situation to other girls in the building and has even seen you eyeing an expensive bag on your computer when he’s passed your desk.

He’s nervous when he finds you in the elevator on Monday morning. He was hoping at least a few extra minutes, but he supposes that this is as good a place as any since it’s just the two of you and no one is there to possibly eavesdrop.

You greet him politely like you always do and he greets you back in his awkward manner and then the rest of the ride to the top floor is quiet, so much so that you could definitely hear a pin drop.

He’s staring at you and he knows it’s creepy, but he can’t help it. You’re just so pretty in your dress pants and blazer, your makeup done so flawlessly. You always look so professional for work and he admires that about you.

He’d by lying if he said that he didn’t have a tiny crush on you. Okay, huge. The second you stepped foot into his office to interview for the position last year, he was taken aback by you. Not only did he think you were beautiful, but he also admired how smart and funny you were. So you were attractive and completely qualified for the position. Surely there had to be a catch in there somewhere, but there wasn’t. Your were just perfect.

But he hasn’t told anybody. He can’t. So he just bottles up his feelings and only lets them out with a sock and bottle of lotion when he gets home. He knows you probably (definitely) be grossed out by that so he doesn’t do it nearly as much anymore, just when he really needs the release.

Eddie’s not the most social person. In fact, the three years you’ve been working for the company, he can easily count on his hand how many times you’ve had a conversation that wasn’t about work. Sure, at first, you were an intern on an entirely different floor so he never saw you, but now he sees you five days a week so what’s his excuse?

What he doesn’t know, which is surprising since you’ve tried to make it very obvious, is that you like him too. And why wouldn’t you? Not only is he hot and a very rich CEO of a company, but he’s also so intelligent. You can see it when you listen to him during meetings. You’re supposed to be taking notes, and you do, sometimes, but really, most times you’re scribbling “y/n Munson” onto the page like a school girl. You’re so in love with him that sometimes, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

He’s beginning to think that’s maybe this is a bad idea, wondering if he should just find a sugar baby online. He’s older than you by fifteen years and he’s also your boss which wouldn’t look so good. But he’s speaking before he can stop himself so there’s no going back now.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says and you turn to him in confusion, your eyebrows furrowing.

“And what would that be?” You ask and you can see that he’s visibly nervous. He talks to so many celebrities on the daily and you’re the one who makes him nervous? That has never made sense to you.

“You can absolutely say no, but I just wanted to offer it up to you if you’re interested.” Now your interest is piqued. Is finally going to ask you to fuck him like you’ve been fantasizing about for years?

“What is it, Mr. Munson?” God, why does you calling him that always make him so fucking hard?

You’re looking at him with concern now, your hand on his shoulder as you step closer, so close that if he moves just a few inches, he could-no, he’s definitely not doing that.

“I-well-as you know, I have a lot of money.” You laugh at that. He’s one of the richest men in the world, of course he has money.

“Right,” you nod, wanting him to proceed. You’re on the edge of your seat, desperate to know what he wants to ask you and why he won’t just come out and say it.

“And it’s come too much for me to handle so I need someone to spend it on, a companion.”

“Okay,” you drag out the word, still unsure as to why he’s telling you this. You’re just his assistant.

“And I’d like that someone to be you.” Your eyes widen at his words. Surely you didn’t hear him right. There’s no way that he wants to give you some of his money. That just doesn’t make any sense. “I can provide you with anything you want or need. Rent? Done. Clothes, shoes, even if you just want some extra cash. But in return, I would like you to spend time with me.”

You’re staring at him like he’s got three heads so he’s quick to backtrack. He really doesn’t want to upset you. “But that’s not a requirement. If you just want the money-“

“Mr. Munson, that is so generous,” you cut him off, your other hand moving up to his other bicep as you step even closer, pulling him forward as you bring your lips to his ear. “But you don’t have to pay me to spend with you. I already like you.” You press a lingering kiss to his cheek then flee the elevator as the doors open.

He’s following you, hurrying to catch up with you. Instead of heading to your desk, though, you’re entering his office, looking back at him with a flirty look.

You open the door and hold it for him before letting it slam closed and locking it. When you turn, he’s all the way across the room, trying to make sense of what’s happening, but he just can’t.

He’s loosened his tie and his hair is even more of a mess than it usually is. You make your way over to him, taking him by the hands and pulling to you and wrapping his arms around your waist while your hands wind into his hair, giving his scalp and little scratch before pulling his head forward. Your lips slowly press to his and he gasps into your mouth before slowly melting into you.

You’re kissing him hungrily and he’s matching your energy as this is something that the two of you have wanted for so long. It’s everything you could have imagined and more, his lips just as soft as you had pictured.

Your tongue quickly swipes along his bottom lip as you push him against the window. He lets you inside and can’t stop himself from moaning. You swear you’re to come just from hearing it and once you press your body to his, you can see he’s already one step ahead on you as you feel his rock hard cock pressing against you.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” You ask and he whines, unable to get the words come out of his mouth as he nods enthusiastically.

You hurry over to his desk and look through his drawers until you find a bottle of lotion that you’re sure if for the exact purpose to lucky you. You then unbuckle his pants and pull them and his underwear down, his rock hard cock coming into view. You pump some of the lotion into your hand then go to town, pumping his his cock hard as he pressed himself even harder against the window, trying to grab onto whatever he can as a loud moan falls from his lips.

You slap your free hand over his mouth and his eyes flutter shut as pleasure courses through him. He’s sure he’s going to come any second.

“That’s it. Just like that,” you encourage him. “Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll clean you up.” He mumbles something against your hand and before you’re about to ask him what it is, there’s a loud knock at the door, the two of you staring at it in fear as you pull away quickly, letting Eddie put his pants back.

“We can continue this at my place tonight,” you wink. “I’ll message you my address, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods as you make your way to the door as Eddie heads towards his desk, sitting behind it to hide is still very hard cock.

You unlock and open the door and sure enough, Steve is standing on the other side of it, looking between you and Eddie curiously. As you head out of the office with your head low to hide your smile, all Steve can think about is how he owes Robin twenty dollars.

taglist: @the-witty-pen-name @k-yurieee

[rook-laidir]

Apparently y’all wanted more banter

Enjoy, ya degenerates!

~~~

Rook: Are dragons and wyverns the same thing?

Taash: What? No, they’re completely different.

Rook: They’re both giant lizards that breathe fire and ice and other stuff. Feels like the only real difference is dragons have more legs.

Taash: Dragons are way more complicated than wyverns. Trust me.

Rook: I feel like if I don’t, you’ll burn me alive.

~~~

Rook: I picked up some Rivaini foods the other day. They’re in the pantry if you want to use them.

Bellara: I saw! But what makes them Rivaini? Besides the Llomerryn sauce and the couscous, I mean?

Rook: What do you mean?

Bellara: Well the bananas are Par Vollen, the spices are from Tevinter, and I think the flatbread you bought is Nevarran.

Rook: That’s what makes it Rivaini.

~~~

Bellara: So what’s Isabela like? I mean as a leader.

Rook: Tough when she needs to be, fun when she wants to be. She’ll drink you under the table and kick your ass at Wicked Grace. Why? You’re joining the Lords?

Bellara: Oh, no, I was just curious. She’s so…

Rook: Intimidating?

Bellara: Yeah. And really pretty! She’s just like the Pirate Queen in one of my serials!

Rook: Knowing Isabela, she probably inspired the whole thing.

~~~

Harding: You know, you can come visit my Ma’s cottage whenever you want. She makes really good pie.

Rook: Thanks, Harding.

Harding: She’d love to meet you and hear about your adventures. And she always has a spare bed made just in case.

Rook: Are you trying to set me up with your mom?

Harding: No! What? I was just trying to be nice! You look like you could use a good mothering.

Rook: Aww, thanks, Harding!

Harding: Well now I wanna take it back!

~~~

Harding: Look, I really don’t mean any offense by this, but I gotta ask…

Rook: This should be good.

Harding: Did you try to rob Varric when you first met him? Because he made it sound a lot like you were trying to rob him.

Rook: Really? What did he say?

Harding: That you stood awfully close to him and asked a lot of questions about Bianca.

Rook: Bianca’s a classy lady. And maybe I just liked the chest hair.

Harding: You’re avoiding the question!

Rook: You’re asking questions you don’t want answers to.

~~~

Spite: Twenty gold!

Rook: Not a chance.

Spite: Twenty gold!

Rook: I won that bet fair and square, Spite.

Lucanis: You know there’s no reasoning with him.

Spite: Twenty! Gold!

Rook: You can’t even spend it!

~~~

Davrin: Have you seen my coin purse?

Rook: I didn’t take it.

Davrin: Now why don’t I believe you?

Rook: Hey, I don’t take things from my friends. And you lost it at The Hilt.

Davrin: So you have seen it.

Rook: No, but I saw you flirting with Markos. He’s a pickpocket.

Davrin: Dammit.

Rook: (laughs) Sorry, Dav. It’s the Lords of Fortune way.

Davrin: Well the Lords of Fortune need to learn some manners.

Rook: Where’s the fun in that?

~~~

Neve: You should get your arm checked out. You probably injured it.

Rook: You’re looking at my arms?

Neve: I saw you wince when you pulled your bowstring back. Probably a pulled muscle.

Rook: First my arms, now my muscles? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were checking me out.

Neve: And I’d say you’re trouble.