#Should I even ask how your week has been?

[rafayelxsylusho]

the jealous fic series is sooo good! can’t wait for the sylus one

I almost forgot about my man. Thanks for reminding me!

Hope you like it!!

How the LADS men fu€k jealousy out of you.

TW: SMUT

***There is a quote from a book that some of you have probably read before, I just really wanted to use it in one of sylus fics😊😊***

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

You had been looking forward to surprising Sylus at home, craving some much needed alone time with him after recent missions that kept you apart. However, once you got to his place you found the house quiet and empty. No sign of Sylus anywhere. A flicker of concern began to rise in your chest as you wandered the halls, calling out his name, but only the echo of your own voice greeted you.

You found Luke and Kieran in the study, engaged in their usual antics, lounging on the plush leather sofas, having a lively discussion that ended abruptly when they noticed you.

"Look Kieran, our favorite hunter came to visit," Luke drawled. "Here to see the boss man, y/n?"

Kieran sat up and offered you a genuine smile. "Boss isn't here at the moment," he explained "He's been called away to attend a rather important auction tonight."

"Auction?" you asked, frowning. "What auction?"

Luke leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The big one. The one everyone's talking about. The one boss has been prepping for all week."

You try to recall any mention of an important auction Sylus had spoken of, but as much as you rack your brain you come up empty. It's not like him to keep something like this a secret from you. A flicker of concern crosses your face as you wonder why he wouldn't have mentioned it to you directly.

"So, when will he be back?" you asked, trying to sound casual even as you felt a flutter of disappointment at his absence.

Kieran shrugged. "Hard to say. These things can go on for hours. Days even. Depends on how stubborn the other bidders are."

Luke snorted. "And how determined Sylus is to win."

You find yourself waiting for Sylus to return home from the mysterious auction. The hours tick by, and to pass the time, you decide to engage in some friendly competition with Luke and Kieran. The three of you spend the next couple of hours engrossed in a highspeed, adrenaline pumping videogame.

In between races, you raid the well stocked kitchen, returning with an array of tasty treats and Sylus' prized collection of gourmet chocolates.

As the night wears on you can't help but glance at the clock more frequently, wondering what's keeping Sylus. A regular auction should have ended by now, and while he is known for his meticulous attention to business dealings, this delay is starting to feel a bit longer than usual.

You decide to reach out to Sylus. You pull out your phone and dial his his private number, the one reserved for emergencies and urgent matters. After a few rings, his deep, smooth voice fills your ear.

"Y/n, what is it?" his tone unusually distracted. It's clear that he's in the midst of something important, his words clipped and hurried. The sound of muffled voices and distant commotion can be heard in the background, hinting at a crowded and chaotic environment.

"Hey, I'm at your place with Luke and Kieran," you explain, trying to keep your own voice casual despite the unease you feel. "I've been waiting for you to come home. Is everything alright?"

There's a pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Sylus' mind as he considers his response. "Yes, everything's fine," he says at last "This auction... it's taking longer than expected. Complications arose with a few of the other attendees." He sighs, and you can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, a telltale sign of his exasperation and stress. "I'm doing what I can to wrap things up, but it may be a while."

Your heart skips a beat as you hear a woman's voice, a stranger's melodic tone. The woman's words are muffled, but her term of endearment "Sylus darling" rings out crystal clear through the phone speaker.

You stiffen, gripping the phone tighter as a flurry of unwelcome thoughts and emotions wash over you. A cold, sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, and you suddenly feel like an intruder in the intimate moment.

"I apologize, kitten, but I must go," Sylus says abruptly, his voice tight and strained. "I'll deal with this and be home as soon as I can. Wait for me" With that, he ends the call, leaving you staring at your phone in stunned disbelief.

"Shit, was that Ira?" Luke asks looking at Kieran.

Your head snaps up as Luke's question hangs in the air, a sense of confusion etched on your face. Kieran, noticing your expression, quickly elbows Luke to silence him, shooting him a warning glare.

"Shh, don't be an idiot," Kieran hisses under his breath, though not quiet enough that you don't hear him. "You shouldn't go around throwing around names like that without knowing for sure."

Kieran clears his throat, his expression turning somber as he sees the confusion and hurt in your eyes. "Ira is just an old business partner of Sylus," he explains carefully, choosing his words with deliberate precision. "They have a history together, but it's all about work. Nothing more.

Unable to shake the sense of unease in your gut, you eventually make your way upstairs to Sylus' bedroom, hoping to find some sense of comfort and familiarity in the space that has become so closely associated with the man you've come to love so deeply. You curl up on the plush, king-sized bed, inhaling the faint scent of Sylus' cologne that still lingers on the silken sheets. As exhaustion finally overtakes you, you drift off to a fitful sleep, your dreams fragmented images of Sylus and the unknown woman, their figures intertwined in ways that make your heart ache with a painful, jealous fervor.

When you awaken sometime later, the first light of dawn just beginning to peek through the curtains, you reach out instinctively for Sylus, only to find the space beside you cold and empty. You check your phone, hoping for a message or a call, but there is nothing.

You know you can't stay here, not like this, not with the way your mind is racing. The feelings inside you threaten to consume you, jealousy, anger, and a deep, abiding fear of losing the man you love.

As you zip up your backpack, the weight of your decision to leave Sylus' place feels both heavy and necessary. You take a deep breath and make your way back to your apartment.

Once inside the familiar confines of your own space the memory of Tara's camping invitation surfaces, and you realize that the solitude of the city may be more than you can bear in your current state of mind. Without hesitation, you pull out your phone and dial Tara's number, praying that she hasn't already made other plans or filled the available spots on her trip. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright and cheerful.

"Hey, Tara," you say, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I know I already declined the camping trip, but... I've changed my mind. If the offer still stands, I'd love to join you and the team this weekend."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the surprise and delight in Tara's voice as she responds. "Of course, y/n! You're more than welcome to join us. I'm so glad you changed your mind," she says warmly, her words a balm to your battered soul. You thank Tara profusely, already feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at the prospect of escaping the city and the thoughts on your mind.

During the trip Tara and the rest of the team were wonderful hosts, ensuring that you were kept busy and distracted with hikes, campfire stories, and hearty meals. As the night of the trip wears on you lose yourself in the simple joys of the outdoors, the smell of pine needles and woodsmoke, the distant hooting of an owl, the warmth of your friends gathered around the flickering fire. Slowly but surely, the tightness in your chest begins to ease, and the painful thoughts of Sylus and the mysterious woman start to recede.

By the time the weekend draws to a close, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, the fresh air and company of your friends having done wonders to clear your head. The feelings of jealousy are still there, lingering in the back of your mind, but they no longer threaten to consume you as they once did.

As you step into your apartment in the late afternoon, the familiar scent of home envelops you, offering a sense of comfort and security that you desperately crave. The weight of the weekend's emotions and the long journey back to the city have left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Without hesitation, you make your way to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grime and weariness of the past couple of days. As the hot water cascades over your skin, you let out a sigh, allowing the steam to fill your lungs and cleanse your mind.

You linger in the shower for longer than necessary, the heat of the water soothing your aching muscles and helping to melt away the lingering tension that has taken up residence in your body. By the time you step out, your skin is pink and tingling, and a sense of renewed energy courses through your veins.

As you towel yourself dry, you remember the need to charge your phone, which had died during the camping trip due to the lack of a reliable power source. You pad out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints on the hardwood floor as you make your way to your backpack. Fishing out your phone from the depths of the bag, you plug it in and watch as the screen flickers to life, the dim glow illuminating your face, the phone chimes and you take a deep breath before unlocking the screen. The anticipation of seeing Sylus' name among the list of notifications makes your heart race in your chest, a mix of hope and dread swirling within you.

As the messages load, you scan the list of senders, your eyes widening as you realize that there is not a single one from Sylus among them. You set your phone down on the kitchen counter, the glow of the screen illuminating the darkened room as you rummage through the cabinets for a glass. The house feels strangely quiet, a stark contrast to the lively chatter and laughter that filled the campsite just hours before. As you fill your glass with cool, refreshing water and take a long sip, you can't help but let your mind wander back to the memory of Sylus' curt goodbye and the sound of that woman's voice, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that even the cold water can't wash away.

You set the glass down with a heavy sigh, your reflection staring back at you from the darkened window above the sink. In the dim light, you can see the weariness etched into the lines of your face, the shadows beneath your eyes a testament to the restless nights, and just as you're about to turn away from the window, a sudden movement outside catches your eye. You lean closer, peering out into the darkness, and your heart leaps into your throat as you see a tall, familiar figure standing beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

It's Sylus.

He stands motionless, his dark silhouette unmistakable even at this distance. He seems to be looking directly at your window, though you're not sure if he can actually see you through the darkness and the reflection on the glass. You take a tentative step back from the window, lots of questions race through your mind. What is Sylus doing here? How long has he been waiting? You freeze at the sound of a knock, your heart leaping into your throat as a wave of panic and adrenaline surges through your body. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, the sound of Sylus' fist against the wood unmistakable.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart as you make your way towards the door. You pause for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, and take one last steadying breath before turning the knob and pulling the door open.

"Sylus," you say, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "What are you doing here?"

Even in the dim light of the hallway, you can see the intensity of his gaze, the crimson eyes that seem to pierce right through you, seeing straight into your very soul. He's dressed in a dark shirt and pants, his hair slightly disheveled, as if he's been running his hands through it in agitation.

"Hello kitten" Sylus murmurs, "how was your trip?"

"It was fine," you say shortly. "How did you know I went on a trip?"

Your mind races as you wonder how Sylus could possibly know about your last-minute decision to join Tara and the others for the weekend. You didn't mention it to anyone. So how did he find out?

Sylus leans against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space. He looks tired, you notice, the lines around his eyes a little deeper than usual. But there's a intensity to his gaze, a fierce focus that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I have my ways," he says, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips "The real question is, why did you leave without telling me?" His voice is low and smooth, but there's an undercurrent of frustration beneath the calm exterior. 

"Come in," you say softly, stepping back to allow him entry. As Sylus steps into your apartment, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine, his broad shoulders brushing against the doorframe as he moves past you.

Sylus turns to face you, his crimson eyes searching yours in the dim light cast by the single lamp you left on before your trip. He looks different in the low light, softer somehow, the harsh angles of his face gentled by the shadows. But there's still a intensity to his gaze, a fierce determination that makes your heart race in your chest.

You stand there, clutching the towel tightly around your body. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of the emotions that have been building for days.

"Well? Are you going to invite me to sit down, or are we going to stand here all night?" There's a undercurrent of impatience in his voice, a frustration that belies the casual tone.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, and gesture towards the couch. "Of course, please, make yourself comfortable," you say, the words sound too formal to your own ears.

You turn to head to your bedroom, suddenly feeling the chill of the air on your damp skin beneath the thin towel "I'm going to change," you say over your shoulder, not looking back at him as you make your way to your bedroom.

You gasp as you feel Sylus' strong hand grab the back of your neck, his fingers curling around the damp skin and pulling you gently but firmly towards him. The sudden contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your heart stuttering in your chest as you find your back pressed against the firm wall of his chest.

"Sylus," you breathe out "what are you doing?"

His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his long fingers splaying across the curve of your waist, holding you firmly in place. You can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of the towel, the warmth seeping into your flesh and making your pulse race.

Sylus leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear as he speaks, his voice a low murmur. "I couldn't let you walk away without getting an answer first," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me, kitten, why did you leave without telling me? There's a undercurrent of emotion in his voice, a frustration that he can't quite hide. His grip on your neck tightens slightly, not enough to cause pain, but enough to make it clear that he has no intention of letting you go until he gets the answers he wants. You can feel the tension radiating off him, the coiled energy of a man on the brink of losing control. It both frightens and exhilarates you, the power he holds in his hands, the way he can make you feel with a single touch.

"Sylus, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you try to pull away from him. "Not like this. I can't think straight when you touch me like this."

Sylus chuckles darkly, a low, rumbling sound that you can feel vibrating through his chest pressed against your back. His fingers tighten briefly on your hip before releasing you, only to trail slowly up the curve of your side, his touch feather light and teasing. "Like what, kitten?" he murmurs in your ear. "I haven't even touched you yet, not the way I want to. Not the way you need me to."

His hand reaches the side of your breast, his fingers grazing the swell of it through the damp towel. You can feel your nipple tightening in response, betraying your body's desire for his touch.

"Tell me why you left, y/n," Sylus demands, his voice hardening with impatience. "And don't lie to me."

You take a shaky breath, Sylus' proximity and touch making it hard to focus on anything else. "I...I needed some time to myself," you admit "To clear my head and think things through."

Sylus' hand stills on your breast, his fingers curling possessively around the soft mound. "Think things through about what?" he asks, a hint of something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the smooth surface of his voice.

You swallow hard, knowing you can't avoid the conversation any longer. "About us," you confess, the words falling from your lips "About what this...thing is between us. I didn't know how to handle it, so I left."

His lips brush against your shoulder, the ghost of a kiss that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. You can feel the heat of his breath, the dampness of his tongue as he traces the curve of your collarbone. "Tell me, kitten," he breathes against your skin, "is this what you needed to escape from? Me, touching you like this? Wanting you like this?"

His hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"Because if it is, I can make it so much worse. Or so much better," Sylus promises darkly "All you have to do is say the word, sweetie."

"Who is she, sy?" You whisper, words barely audible but you know he heard you. Sylus' teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips curling into a smirk against your flesh. He knows exactly what you're asking, but he's in no hurry to answer, not when he has you like this bare, breathless, and at his mercy.

His tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your skin, the dampness of the water that clings to you. "You know, for someone who needed to clear their head, you seem awfully focused on her." Sylus' hand slides down to your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over your stomach. The evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your backside as he holds you close.

"Ira is someone I knew from my past. We were discussing a mutual investment opportunity. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about."

"Is that so?" you ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. He nips at your neck again, a little harder this time, sending a jolt of sensation straight down your spine.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, kitten," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "But I must admit, it's...intriguing. Seeing this side of you, the side that wants to claw and scratch and mark what's hers."

Sylus spins you around to face him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. With a sharp tug, he yanks the towel down, baring your breasts to the cool air of the apartment. Your nipples pebble instantly, peaks tightening under the sudden exposure and the intensity of Sylus' gaze. His hands slide up your ribcage, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, teasing the sensitive skin. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, the evidence of his power and strength, the way he could take you and claim you and make you his. His hands still on your breasts, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he holds you in place. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath away. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, filled with raw emotion.

"What makes you think I could ever look at another woman the way I look at you?" Sylus asks "Do you have any idea what it's like, y/n, to be consumed by someone, to have them under your skin, in your blood, in every fucking beat of your heart?"

He leans in closer, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power and the hunger that he keeps leashed, barely contained. Sylus' eyes flash with a mix of anger and pain, his grip on your breasts tightening almost uncomfortably. His voice drops to a low, fervent whisper "I've waited lifetimes for you, kitten, dreaming of the day I could hold you again, touch you again, make you mine again."

His thumb brushes over your nipple roughly, sending a jolt of sensation through you. "And this is what I get in return? You, running from me, doubting me?" Sylus' voice rises, the anger and the hurt bleeding through every word. His eyes darken with a predatory gleam, a smirk spreading across his face as he sees the fear and excitement in your eyes. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, sinful purr. "Go ahead, kitten. Run. See how far you get before I catch you." Sylus' hand slides down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly. "Run, If I catch you, I fuck you"

The dark promise in his voice sends a thrill of fear and anticipation down your spine. Acting on instinct, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and turn to run, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor as you race up the stairs to your bedroom. You can hear Sylus' footsteps behind you, his long strides eating up the distance between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you reach the top of the stairs. You don't look back, you don't dare to see if he's close.

Just as you think you're about to reach the safety of your bedroom, you feel Sylus' Evol envelop you. An unseen force lifts you off your feet, strong and unyielding, pulling you back towards him. You let out a startled yelp, your hands grasping at the empty air as you're lifted higher, your bare breasts bouncing slightly with the movement.

"Sylus!" you cry out, a mix of fear and excitement lacing your voice. You're suspended in mid-air, towel no longer wrapped over the lower half of your body, your legs kicking futilely as you try to find purchase on the carpeted stairs.

"Did I say you could run that far, kitten?" Sylus' voice comes from behind you, dark and amused. You feel his presence looming over you, the heat of his body, the power radiating off him in waves. "I told you, I'd catch you. And now, I'm going to claim my prize."

Sylus' hands grip your bare thighs, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh as he hoists you over his shoulder. He carries you effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all, his steps never faltering as he walks towards your bedroom. You find yourself staring at his back, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretches taut over the muscles beneath.

When he reaches your room, he kicks the door open, the wood slamming against the wall with a bang. He carries you inside and with a few more strides, he reaches the bed and tosses you onto it, your naked body bouncing on the mattress. You land on your back, your breasts heaving as you catch your breath. Sylus looms over you, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, a smile playing on his lips. He takes in the sight of you, sprawled out and bare before him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your heart pounding as you watch Sylus remove his clothing. He starts with his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly to the side. His fingers move to his shirt buttons next, undoing them one by one with deliberate slowness, as if he's savoring the anticipation of revealing what lies beneath. As he shrugs off his shirt, your breath catches in your throat. The dim light from the hallway casts shadows across the planes of his chest, highlighting the defined muscles, the sculpted abs, the V that disappears into his pants. You remember how his skin feels beneath your fingertips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and your core clenches with sudden, desperate need. His hands move to his belt next, undoing the buckle with a sharp tug. The leather slips from his pants, falling to the floor with a soft thud. He undoes his fly slowly, inch by inch, until finally, he's shoving his pants and boxers down his long legs. He kicks them off to the side.

Sylus stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You've seen me like this before," he says softly, his voice rough with desire. "But I don't think you've ever really seen me. Not like I want you to see me." He crawls over you, his large frame covering your smaller one as he settles his hips between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against your core. His hands come up to frame your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his intense gaze.

"You should know very well that I adore you," Sylus murmurs, his voice low with emotion. "There is no love purer than mine" His crimson eyes search yours, the intensity of his feeling burning into your very soul. "But right now," he continues, his voice dropping an octave, turning dark and dangerous. "Right now, I'm going to fuck you like I hate you." His grip on your face tightens, his fingers digging into your skin.

Before you can process it he's thrusting forward, burying himself deep inside your tight, wet heat. A scream tears from his throat as he hilts himself fully, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. "FUCK!" Sylus roars, his voice echoing off the walls of your bedroom. At the same time, a scream of pleasure and surprise rips from your own throat, your back arching off the bed, "SYLUS!" you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as he stretches you, fills you, completes you in a way that feels so right and so perfect.

For a moment, he stays still, buried deep inside you, his heart pounding against your chest, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. Then he starts to move, withdrawing until just the tip of his cock remains inside you, only to slam back in with a powerful thrust. "Oh god, Sylus!" you cry out, your voice hitching and breaking as he drives into you again and again. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you cling to him, your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

Sylus feels your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your ankles locking at the small of his back. With an approving growl, he sits back on his knees, bringing you up with him. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he changes the angle of his thrusts, now driving up into you from below. "Fuck, just like that," Sylus grunts, his voice filled with lust. "Hold onto me, kitten. Wrap those pretty legs around me tighter." His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls you down onto his cock, meeting his upward thrusts with a force that steals your breath away

You can feel every thick, hard inch of him as he fills and stretches you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length. The new position allows him to go even deeper, his cock kissing your cervix with every powerful thrust. You throw your head back, a silent scream of ecstasy on your lips as the pleasure builds and builds inside you. Sylus knows your body intimately, understands what buttons to push, what touches will send you flying. And right now, he's determined to draw this out, to make this last as long as possible. He wants to feel you come undone around him again and again, wants to hear you scream his name until your voice is hoarse and raw. So he restrains himself, ignoring the desperate pleas of your body as your hips buck and writhe against his, seeking more friction, more stimulation.

He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hands avoid your throbbing clit, his lips and teeth avoid your aching nipples, even as they map your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive skin behind your ears.

"Please, Sylus," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, your nails scraping his scalp. "Please, I need..." You can't even finish the sentence, too lost in sensation, too desperate for release.

"I know," Sylus murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I know exactly what you need, kitten. But I'm not going to give it to you. Not yet." He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, a twist of his hips that has you seeing stars. "You're going to come on my cock when I say you can come on my cock," Sylus commands, his voice low and dangerous. "And not a moment before."

Sylus uses all his strength to drag your hips down his length with brutal force. Your body is no longer your own as he manhandles you, using you for his pleasure. Each powerful thrust drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping, your tits bouncing wildly with every slam of his hips against yours.

"Fuck, your cunt feels incredible," Sylus growls, his eyes wild and fevered as he watches your body jolt and quake with his relentless pounding. "So fucking tight and wet and perfect. Made to take my cock". Your mind starts to go hazy, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as he fucks you.

"Sylus!" you scream, your voice raw and broken as he rails into you. "Sylus, please, I can't...I can't..." But your protests only seem to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder, faster, more demanding.

Sylus leans in, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh at the top of your breast, marking you. He bites down hard enough to make you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure short circuiting your brain for a moment. As he releases your skin, he laves the reddened mark with his tongue, soothing the sting.

"Do you want some help, kitten?" Sylus murmurs, his voice a low against your skin. He rolls his hips, grinding his pelvis against your aching clit, giving you a momentary respite from the relentless pounding. He waits for your response, his eyes glinting with a dark, knowing amusement. "Yes? No? Maybe so?" His tone is playful, taunting, as if he knows exactly what your answer will be. He reaches in between your bodies, his fingers find and circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, pushing you to the very edge of ecstasy. Your hips buck wildly against his hand, seeking more, craving more.

"Yes, Sylus," you manage to gasp out, your voice ragged and breathless." Please..please..please.." Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin.

 "That's my good girl," he purrs, rewarding your submission with a hard thrust. "Now, come for me, kitten. Come all over my cock. Let go, y/n . Give yourself to me completely."

With that command, Sylus leans down and drags the flat of his tongue over your nipple, the wet heat sending a shock of pleasure through your body. At the same time, his fingers find your clit, pinching the sensitive nub between them, rolling it, tugging on it, giving you the direct stimulation you've been aching for. The dual sensation is too much for you to withstand. Your body seizes up, back arching in a semicircle, as a intense orgasm crashes over you. "SYLUS!" you scream, your voice echoing off the walls, as wave after wave of ecstasy radiates out from your core, consuming you entirely. Sylus buries himself deep inside you once again, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he also finds his release. "Fuck, y/n , fuuuuuck!" his hot seed erupting from his cock and painting your insides. You can feel every twitch, every spurt of his thick come as he fills you up. Sylus' hips jerk and stutter, grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of his intense climax, pushing his seed deeper with every movement.

He collapses on top of you, his muscular frame blanketing your smaller one, pinning you to the mattress. He's still buried deep inside your fluttering, over sensitive heat, his softening cock plugging you up, trapping his seed inside you. His breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps as he rests his forehead against yours, his crimson eyes glazed and unfocused as he comes down from his intense high. Sylus takes a moment to marvel at the utterly debauched picture you make, hair mussed, skin flushed and slick with sweat, your bodies still joined intimately.

"I can adapt to any location and call it home, as long as I'm willing" Sylus murmurs, his voice low and intimate "but now I have a condition" His eyes bore into yours, the crimson depths swirling with unreadable emotions. "If you are not there then I'm not interested. "This," he gestures vaguely at the bedroom, but you know he means more than just the physical space, "means nothing without you in it."

Sylus' hand slides down to rest over your racing heart, feeling it beat against his palm. "You are my home, kitten. My haven. The one constant I crave." His voice drops to a fervent whisper, heavy with unspoken emotion. "So that condition is you must be there. Always. Or I will not settle for anything less."

[dolche-tejada]

"I don't care about the rest of your lack of comprehension in the medium but don't disrespect DEKU!"

What lack of comprehension ( I spent my time debunking the pile of crap you're writing in my mentions, you haven't wrote a single relevant argument so far.

As for Deku, I don't see why I should respect this fictional character. He's plain as hell, people constantly glaze him for his amazing traits when his showings struggle to keep up, he has no interesting flaws to nuance him as a character and is just a mouthpiece for the shitty themes of this manga, his character arc mostly consists in him learning to use his powers (how fascinating really...) and he utterly failed his main goal at the end out of sheer incompetence.

"wtf!! be mad cus your favourite villain died!!! but don't you dare accuse Deku of being lazy!"

Why ? Because you don't have any solid counter-argument to refute the fact that he stayed on his ass for 8 years without training to keep being a hero ? And that he needed Bakugo to offer him an easy solution on a plate to do something ?

Or is it because you're salty that Deku is indeed so incompetent at being a hero that he didn't even bother thinking about a plan to save Tomura when it was his main goal, and this despite having weeks ahead to think about it ?

Either way, cope harder pal.

"Lazy my foot bro. Bye bro. You spitting nothing actually."

First time someone trash one of your favs ? Don't worry it will be okay, just take a seat and some deep breaths.

"All the long paragraphs just took proof you lack of respect to the author"

Indeed I don't respect Horikoshi as a writer... And so ?

"and the rest of it just to prove you're just a person who spewing nothing."

He said after failing to prove me wrong even once.

"After losing One For All in the My Hero Academia storyline, Deku faces significant challenges."

Source : Trust me bro

"His journey without his quirk is explored in the series, particularly highlighting his determination and ingenuity in adapting to his new circumstances."

What "new circumstances" are you even babbling about, he literally came back to what he was at the start of the story and even said it isn't anything new for him to be quirkless again.

"They demonstrate that strategy, training, and personal growth are crucial. However, Deku's case is unique because his identity and journey have been so closely tied to One For All"

And in practice, how does being a former OFA user could stop Deku to work out to become a fighter like Shinso, Knuckleduster or Nighteye ? Go ahead, I'm curious.

"which fundamentally shifts his path when he loses it."

Lmao seriously ? That's the best you came up with to hide the fact that Deku never even tried to work out to still be a hero ?

Cause without the bs, you're basically saying : B-B-But it must have been really hard for him to lose a power he only had for not even 1/6 of his life, that's why he couldn't learn martial arts for some reason :'(

What a solid argument, I can't argue with that indeed.

"None of them loses quirk and they're birth with the quirk."

And so ? Besides you know that Knuckleduster also used to have a quirk before AFO stole it from him ? Well guess what : It didn't stop him from learning how to fight and being a quirkless vigilante so nope, you're just looking for excuses.

"Deku also train as crazy as them."

To learn how to use his quirks, not to compensate being a regular human like Stein or Nighteye does.

"Wtf bro, use your brain."

Funny you talk about brain, I was precisely about to ask you if you're having a stroke right now ? Because I can't decently believe anyone could write so much shit in a row without suffering from brain damage.

"Deku's struggle post-losing his quirk can be interpreted more as a narrative choice by the author"

Even if it was the case, that doesn't make Deku any less of a lazy ass bum. He lost OFA during the ellipse and immediately gave up on being a hero, until Bakugo came up with a solution Deku wouldn't have waited for if he was nearly as resilient and well-written as you think he is.

"Kohei Horikoshi, to explore themes of identity, resilience, and the essence of what makes a hero"

No argument here either, just random bs to hide the fact that you don't know how to refute my point.

"It's true that Deku relies on technology, but this can also be viewed as a form of adaptation and teamwork, core values in the manga. Didn't Tony Stark relied on his tech as well? What makes a hero? A quirk. No. A sense to help another person, to protect."

Lmao don't even try. Tony doesn't just sit on his ass and stop being a hero when he doesn't have his armor around him, whether in the comics or the movies (Iron-Man 3 is literally about that). It's even one of his most famous quotes in the MCU : "If you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it"

Well Deku at the end is nothing without his suit/OFA. It's not an opinion, it's not arguable. It's factual. He doesn't just rely on technology, he's entirely dependent of it. Without his suit, he just stand there without doing anything for years while looking passively at his friends living his dream.

"The eight-year time skip where Deku waits for technology to compensate for his lack of a quirk might be critiqued as a plot device to advance other stories or to give Deku a new form of heroism."

Except he does exactly the same thing as before but with an high-tech suit. If Deku really intended to seek for a new form of heroism, he would have declined the suit so no, "he seeks a new form of heroism" my ass.

"It's not necessarily about laziness but about finding a new way to be a hero when the conventional methods are no longer available to him."

Which is outright false as evidenced in my precedent point, just above.

"This development allows for exploration of his character beyond his physical abilities."

Is this development with us in the room ?

"Deku's growth in different aspects, like leadership"

He never showed at any point leadership skills, only teamwork at best but m'kay.

"strategy, and inspiration, rather than just physical prowess."

Inspiration isn't a hero skill. As for strategy, he didn't have any growth in this aspect either since again, he totally gave up being a hero for 8 years straight.

"In summary, while your addled and rude aspect of critique might view Deku's reliance on external help as a sign of laziness, it can also be seen as part of his character development arc"

On one side actual facts, on the other side your headcanons. Damn, I wonder which one carries more weight ?

"showcasing his adaptability, the importance of teamwork, and the broader message that heroism transcends physical power."

Watch out, you still have some bit left at the corner of your mouth.

"The series uses this plot to explore different facets of heroism, which is a central theme in mha."

The story didn't explore crap. Again at the moment Deku lost his quirk, he just stop doing shit for almost a decade despite having options to still be a hero. All the meatriding and headcanons in the world won't change the fact that Deku is fucking lazy and didn't grow up since Chapter 1 where here again, he never even tried to work out to compensate being quirkless and improve his chances to be admitted at UA.

"I'm done with MHA fans that only read and crop panel for their benefits and play the narrative to fit their imagination."

"Don't you never actually comprehend the material in your hands?"

Try at least to score one relevant argument before saying remarks like that, it's hard to take you seriously otherwise.

Well that was shit. Now sorry but if your next reply is as idiotic and dishonest as the previous ones, I will likely just block you. Given how low you set the bar, I won't waste more time and energy refuting your delusions.

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[heartepub]

if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask. 

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread. 

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen. you hold your breath.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash. 

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.” 

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.” 

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red. 

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless. 

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke. 

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom. 

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you. 

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightly finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen. 

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind. 

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you. 

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment. 

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

[shockercoco]

Better Late Than Never

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings - fluff, some kissing, Valentine’s Day shenanigans, flirty!Bucky

Word count - 2167

a/n - Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, especially to all my fellow single readers! I’ve somehow ended up in my Sebastian Stan era again, so I thought why fight it. It’s been a while since I’ve written an imagine, and I’m feeling a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy and thanks in advance for reading :)

“What’s got you smiling so much?” You ask Wanda as she sits down across from you.

It was Wanda’s idea to meet up for lunch after finding out about the rough morning you had, and she had also told you that she had some good news to share that might cheer you up. 

You had woken up late for work, couldn’t find your car keys, and when you reached the halfway point on your journey to work, you realized you didn’t have your phone. Today just wasn’t your day.

“Remember how I said I had some good news?” Wanda asks, her smile huge as she leans in and rests her elbows on the table. When you nod, she continues. “Well, Vision surprised me at work and finally asked me to be his girlfriend! He brought me flowers and everything.”

Yeah, today just really wasn’t your day.

“That’s really great, Wanda, but how exactly is that supposed to cheer me up?” you question, giving her a small smile to soften your words.

“Because you were the one who suggested that I should confess my feelings to him, and you’ve pretty much been with me every step of the way,” Wanda tells you. Her expression then turns into confusion. “Is something wrong?”

You honestly were really proud and happy for Wanda, and if this were any other time of the year, your reaction would’ve been different. But it’s not. Valentine's Day is at the end of the week and you just want the week to be over with.

While you were walking down the street on your way to the restaurant, you walked past a woman getting proposed to in the park. While you were waiting for the light to change in order for you to cross the street, you saw a couple making out. As you walked past a street vendor selling flowers, you overheard the vendor making conversation with a man who was apparently looking for the right flowers to buy his crush. Now, Wanda hits you with this.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you quickly shake your head. “I’ve just had a weird day.”

She looks at you for a moment longer, not fully believing you. “Hmm, there’s something else. Tell me.”

You let out a laugh. “Wanda, I’m fine. It just…it’s nothing really. I’m good.”

“It’s just what?” Wanda asks. When you hesitate again, she adds, “We’re not ordering until you tell me what’s up,” she smirks at you. 

A small groan leaves you, before you speak up, “It’s just that Bucky hasn’t asked me to be his valentine yet, and this is our first Valentine’s Day as a couple. It stupid, I know. I shouldn’t even be upset.”

“No, it’s not stupid. Have you mentioned how you feel to him?”

“No, I didn’t think I had to since he’s always surprising me with gifts any other time of the year. I just figured this would just happen naturally, but nothing yet.”

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. After all, it’s still the beginning of the week. Who knows, he could just be waiting for the actual day to come,” Wanda says, and when you don’t say anything, she places a hand on top of yours and continues, “I’d honestly be surprised if Bucky does absolutely nothing for you. Everyone knows how obsessed he is with you.”

That makes you smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, and when Valentine’s Day comes and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine, call me, I’ll hunt him down,” Wanda tells you right as a waitress walks up to the table to take your guys’ order. She catches the end of Wanda’s sentence and has a confused, yet amused look on her face. “Sorry, just relationship problems.”

The waitress laughs as she says, “Don’t worry I understand.”

Later that night when you're at Bucky’s place for a movie night the two of you had planned the week before, you can feel Bucky looking at you repeatedly while your eyes are still on the screen. You’re cuddled up into his side with his arm wrapped around you, but you still notice the constant shifting of his head.

You finally give in and look up at him. “Is there something on my face?” you ask him, your tone teasing.

Bucky’s confused with your question. “No, why?”

“Because you keep looking at me.”

“What, I can’t admire my own girlfriend anymore?”

“It feels more like staring than anything,” you tell him, and Bucky just laughs.

“Well, then I’m sorry,” Bucky apologizes as he places a hand on your cheek to lift your head up. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips, a smile still tugging on the corner of his lips. When he pulls away, he still keeps the distance between the two of you small as he looks into your eyes.

“Seriously, what is it?” you whine as you playfully shove him away from you, causing him to laugh. He knows how much you hate it when he does that. “Is there something bugging you?” you casually slide in the question, slightly hoping that he would use this time to ask you to be his valentine.

“No, there isn’t,” he laughs and pulls away, turning his attention back to the screen, but keeping his arm still wrapped around you. “I’m done, I promise.” 

He misses the slight drop in your expression, but you quickly fix your face before looking back at the tv as well.

As the week goes on, you try to focus on more important things, but as Friday continues to get closer, your hope continues to diminish. You and Bucky continue to text normally throughout the week, but when Thursday afternoon comes Bucky calls you to let you know that he’ll be going on a mission the next day. On Valentine’s Day.

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice, doll, but Steve needs me,” you hear Bucky softly tell you through the phone. You’re sitting on a chair in front of your window watching people pass by with Bucky on speaker.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I understand,” you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “How long will you be gone?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, before Bucky speaks, “A couple of weeks.”

Weeks? 

Your heart drops at his answer and you feel your throat start to tighten. You quickly mute yourself to clear the tears from your throat, before unmuting.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asks, noticing your delayed response. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? There’s people out there that need you,” you speak up.

You catch sight of your neighbor’s boyfriend walking up to her house with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You momentarily forget you’re on the phone and unintentionally let out a frustrated sigh at the sight, catching Bucky’s attention.

“Listen, I can probably get out of it. I’m sure Steve doesn’t need me that bad, there’s a whole team of people that are available to help out.”

A sad laugh leaves you. “Bucky it’s fine, I promise. He’s your best friend and he specifically asked you because he wants you, so go.”

“If you insist,” you hear Bucky sigh “I know you’re upset, though, so I promise to make it up to you when I get back, okay?”

That makes you crack a smile. “Okay.”

When the next day rolls around, you take your time getting out of bed. Unfortunately, you had the day off today, which of course you would’ve been happy about under different circumstances. 

You decide to keep yourself busy and do some chores to pass time, but by the time you’re done cleaning every crevice and doing laundry, it’s only four in the afternoon.

At some point, Wanda calls to check up on you and asks if you wanted her and Vision to come over and have dinner with you. Vision was planning on cooking for just the two of them, but he told you he had no problem making more. Although the two of them both repeatedly insisted they didn’t mind making the drive to your place, you declined.

It felt wrong to intrude on a special night like tonight. 

After telling Wanda and Vision that you would just order in, the two of you finally end the call.

You weren’t currently that hungry so you decided to just order something later. You make yourself comfortable on the couch and decide to put on a tv show you’ve been wanting to watch. 

A couple episodes later, you finally start to get hungry, and right when you’re about to place an order, your doorbell rings. You shake your head thinking it was just Vision and Wanda coming to share their food, but as you look through the peephole to see Bucky standing outside holding a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed animal you had been wanting, your heart drops along with your jaw.

You look down at your outfit and contemplate quickly changing, but decide against it.

“Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you had to go on a mission?” you ask when you open the door.

“Surprise!” Bucky greets you with a bright smile. He leans in to give you a kiss, before whispering, “Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart.”

Bucky can see that you’re still shocked and at a loss for words, so he just laughs as he pushes past you and makes his way inside. You close the door behind him and watch as he makes his way into the kitchen and lays the flowers on the counter along with the stuffed animal.

“As much as I’m happy that you’re here, why are you here?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you lean against the counter, your arms folded across your chest. 

Bucky sends you a smirk as he quickly puts the flowers in water before making his way over to you. He places his hands on your waist as closes the distance between you two.

“You didn’t really think that I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day together, did you?”

“I didn’t even think you remembered, I mean you haven’t said anything about it all week,” you tell him.

“Yeah, Wanda told me you were a little upset,” Bucky mentions and your eyes widen.

“What a traitor, she wasn’t supposed to say anything,” you say slightly embarrassed as you look off to the side. Then a thought hits you, and you look back at him. “Wait, did you just come here because of what Wanda told you?”

“No, I was already planning on coming here tonight.”

“But what about your mission?” you ask, still confused.

Bucky smiles. “There never was a mission, doll. I made it up because I wanted to surprise you. You really thought I would spend today with Steve instead of you?”

“...Well, he is your best friend.”

“That’s true,” Bucky nods, grabbing your hands in his and placing kisses on your knuckles, “but, you’re my best girl,” he whispers as he looks into your eyes, causing butterflies in your stomach and your face to heat up.

What were you upset about again?

A chuckle leaves Bucky as he watches you shyly smile as you look away.

“You could’ve at least said something this whole week,” you tell him.

“I know, I know,” he admits, “but I was trying to get everything together.”

“Get what together?” you ask.

Bucky stays silent for a moment as if trying to find the right words to say. Then he says, “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches as you stare back at him. “What?”

Maybe you inhaled too many chemicals while cleaning.

“I want you to move in with me,” Bucky repeats. “I know we’ve been dating for less than a year and I completely understand if this is too fast for you, but there’s plenty of room for you at my place and I would be much happier if I was able to have you next to me when I wake up every morning.”

Oh. 

You blink.

“You’re serious?” you ask, even though there's no indication on his face to tell you he’s lying. 

Bucky lets go of your hands to place his on either side of your face. “Completely. Like I said, you’re my best girl.” He watches a smile slowly form on your lips. “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you say, and Bucky’s grin grows wider, but you hold your hand up. “Don’t start smiling yet, I wasn’t finished.”

Bucky quickly fixes his face and tries to suppress his excitement. “Of course, continue.”

“I say yes, only if you agree to never pull anything like this ever again.”

“Ever?” Bucky repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Bucky!” you playfully hit his chest.

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you. Then he pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips, “I’ll just wait until you forget.”

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[bcksbarnes]

some assembly required

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: you move into a new apartment and need bucky to help build a piece of furniture

word count: 1.2K

genre: fluff, laughing!bucky

a/n: trying to get back into writing so enjoy this little one shot

“there you are.” you huff as the door swings open. bucky stands on the other side, his arms crossed over his chest as if he’s been inconvenienced by waiting for you to answer. 

“you told me to be here at eight, i’m five minutes early.” he mutters, shaking his head as he drops his arms to his side, his hands resting on his hips. “do you need my help or not?” 

you can tell he’s joking, and you roll your eyes dramatically, making sure he sees the smile on your face as you take a step back so he can walk through the door and into your apartment.  

it was fate that you found this place a few weeks ago, a new apartment, a new start, but the moving process has been slow. finding time to unpack and decorate between working has been a total nightmare and the mere thought of taking time to put together furniture has your head in a tizzy. that’s how you roped bucky into helping you. a few texts and a few pouting photos was enough for him to reluctantly agree. 

“did you bring the tools?” you ask as you lead him further into the apartment near where your couch was.  

“who moves into an apartment without tools?” bucky asks as he holds up the toolbox you had requested. “you’re an adult, you should own these things.” 

“and miss out on quality time with you, buck? i don’t think so.” 

you manage to make him roll his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile as he does. the two of you were close, closer than he’d ever admit to, and you knew that even without begging bucky would have been there in an instant to help you out. the begging was just fun. 

the two of you take some time to get everything organized, bucky mutters some curse words under his breath as he sees how many small pieces there are and how intricate of a job this will actually be. you read the instructions while he places everything into neat piles.  

what’s the worst that could happen? 

well ... it only takes an hour into building, and a few missing pieces, before you two are bickering with each other. 

“put your back into it!” bucky says as you now had the screwdriver while he held a piece of the wood in place. “the screw isn’t going to catch if you keep doing this half-assed.”  

“i’m not doing it half-assed!” you shriek, letting out a breath that blows a piece of hair out of your face. 

“yes, you are! you’re not even trying. push harder!” he snaps back, though there’s no real bite to his words. 

you try once again and the screw gives no way, not catching onto anything in both an attempt to mock you as well as make you look like a total idiot in front of him. 

you hear bucky mutter a give me that before he takes the screw driver from you and begins to screw it in himself. of course it works when he does it.  

maybe it’s the way he furrows his brows while he’s deep in concentration, or the way that his biceps pop out of that too tight shirt that he’s wearing but you catch yourself staring at him. it was unfair how attractive he was.  

“you’re staring.” he mutters as he now flips through the instruction manual, a small smile on his face as he does so. 

“i’m admiring. much different.” 

but, he was right. you were staring.  

there was a complicated history there between the two of you, one that you both liked to ignore in favor of how close of friends you were. in the beginning there was mutual attraction, both of you always finding yourselves standing shoulder to shoulder at events or when your fingers would accidentally brush up against one another's a spark that would light you up from head to toe. it only took one date to realize that it wasn’t exactly what the two of you wanted, though part of you always felt that it was just too formal and that’s what felt wrong. 

a romantic dinner? not something either of you would have planned but steve had set the whole thing up and neither of you were going to tell him that’s not what you wanted. 

“admiring?” his voice snaps you back into reality again, your thoughts of him subsiding for a moment. he’s tightening another bolt that you screwed in, obviously deeming it inadequate for his tastes. you can see the smirk on his face and it makes you blush a bit. 

“shut up.” you mumble standing up to help him, your arms brushing against one another and oddly enough that spark happens once more. you try to ignore it. you really do. there’s just something so warm and inviting about him that you can’t seem to get enough. 

“you’re really bad at this.” bucky says a while later once the two of you are finally done, both nursing an ice cold beer as you sit on the couch next to each other. “i knew you didn’t have much experience fixing things, i didn't know you’d be totally incapable even with an instruction manual.” 

the two of you laugh at that, the outside of his eyes crinkling softly as he shakes his head thinking back at how frazzled you were. the piece isn’t perfect, the bookcase now pressed up against your wall, but the both of you must admit that you both – well, bucky – did a great job. 

“you know, if i wanted someone to come over and help me, insult me and drink my beers, i would have just called sam.” 

“but you didn’t.” his eyes trail over your features, a smirk on his face as he holds back a chuckle. “you called me. you’re welcome, princess.” 

you playfully hit his shoulder, shoving it slightly as you let out a laugh, though it doesn’t do much as he doesn’t even flinch. his laugh matches yours, his hand reaching out to grip your wrist and pull you in closer to his side, a smile still on his lips. 

“if i wasn’t here it would have taken you ten hours to finish page one.” his hold isn’t tight, it’s just enough to keep you in place, your eyes searching his face as you both seem to feel the electricity between the two of you. 

“oh thank you, bucky barnes, my savior of all things bookcase related.” you tease. 

“you’re welcome.” he repeats himself, pulling you in a bit closer. you can smell the beer on his breath, it’s mixed with the scent of his cologne. “next time, you’re not allowed to touch anything.” 

“who said i’m inviting you over for next time?” 

“me.” he holds up his beer. “as much as i’d love to watch you be an adult and figure this out on your own. my skin is crawling at the idea of you ever holding any of those tools ever again.”  

“you have no faith in me, buck.” 

“nope.” he shakes his head, taking a sip. “not even an ounce.” 

you wonder if things would have been different if that date never went the way it did. if it didn’t feel so stuffy and out of character. he releases your wrist and you both sit in silence. wondering if the bookcase will hold together until the morning and of all the things that could have happened. 

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Spencer's Family

Summary: The team finds out what Spencer did on his sabbatical.

Inspired by a post, I saw about how, in the one episode we're going to see Spencer in, they meet his wife. I took it and ran.

1k words

After finally closing the case, Penelope practically demanded they go see the new place Spencer had bought a few years ago. Once he agreed (begrudgingly), the BAU tech was literally vibrating in her seat.

Spencer had picked out a small-town house on the edge of DC, a train ride away, but the small town had shops, schools, and parks for an all-around American family. 

He unlocked the door, making his way in first, summoning his team in with a nod of his head.

It seemed like a lovely home for a nearly mid-40s man.

However, there was something that caught Penelope's attention. It sounded like there was someone (possibly more than one) in Spencer's living room.

"Spencer," Penelope hisses. "I think there's someone in your house."

Spencer raises an eyebrow and makes his way into the living room without his gun raised. "It's just my wife and stepdaughter," he says over his shoulder.

"Stepdaughter?" Came from Tara and Luke.

"Wife?" Whereas this came from Penelope, Emily and JJ. 

The last anyone had heard from Spencer about his love life was Maxine, and judging by the voice - this wasn't Maxine.

The group hurried after Spencer, seeing a young girl - possibly around the age of 5, maybe 6 - with her arms wrapped tightly around Spencer's neck. The little girl was an absolute chatterbox. She hadn't stopped talking since the moment he set foot in the living room.

However, the woman they were more interested in was Spencer's wife. Who was sitting on the sofa, giggling at the pair in front of her; a blanket was thrown over her lap, and some sort of embroidery was now abandoned at her side.

"-and then Tony stuck a pencil up his nose!" She giggled.

"Why did he do that?" Spencer asked the little girl, taking a seat on the sofa and pulling her into his lap.

Just as she was going to explain why, she burst into more giggles, Spencer looked over at his wife for a possible explanation. "Apparently Arthur dared Tony to do it."

"Ah! You'd think after the incident with the Magic Marker, they'd know not to dare Tony to do things."

Spencer's wife shrugged her shoulders. "Now you're here, I'm going to take a nap." 

Before Emily could question why his wife was going to take a nap, she got herself out of the little nest she had made for herself. Protruding from her abdomen was a baby bump. A pretty big baby bump.

"Reid, you're going to be a father?!" Luke exclaimed, earning himself a rather harsh glare from the little girl (who now obviously sees Spencer as her dad). "Again..." he trails off, correcting himself under the child's gaze.

"Has she been giving you any hassle?" Spencer asks, ignoring Luke's question (or many of the genius didn't hear him), as his hand rested on the bump, a large smile growing on his face told the team the baby was probably moving. JJ still remembers when she was expecting Henry, and when she got Spencer to feel her bump on time, he mentioned how it felt alien-like.

"Well, she's happy now her daddy's home," his wife comments.

He looks up at her. "Have you given any more thought to going on maternity leave yet?"

The team watches as she rolls her eyes. "As I told you before I left, I'm completely fine; the semester doesn't finish for another 3 weeks."

"Your due date is in 4 weeks, Y/N! I know you feel you have a duty to your students, but I think even they would agree you should be at home."

"They would only agree because they don't want to see me go into labour whilst I'm at school."

"What's labour?" 

Both Spencer and his wife, who they now know is called Y/N, look down at their daughter. The wife looks at her husband. "Can you-"

Spencer leans over and presses a kiss to her temple. "I'll deal with this. You go take a nap."

She sighs happily. "Lifesaver, I don't know what I would do without you."

"And you won't have to," he replies, giving her a kiss. "Go take a nap."

After a spirited conversation with his stepdaughter about childbirth and babies (that was appropriate for a 5-year-old), she happily went back to her colouring book, which was neat and tidy, with every scribble kept firmly within the lines - she was more like Spencer even though they don't share blood.

Penelope plops herself down on an open chair and stares at Spencer like she has seen a ghost. "A wife, a stepdaughter, and a baby on the way?" Spencer nods, reaching over to run his fingers through the little girl's hair (who they now know is called Betty).

"You're excited to have a little sister, aren't you Betty?" Spencer asks, watching her blonde hair bounce around her head.

"I gets to help Mommy and Daddy take care of her!" She replies, the excitement bursting out of her.

Emily looks over at Spencer. "Are you ready?"

Spencer looks away from Betty for all of a second to smile at Emily. "I don't think I've been ready for anything more in my life," he turns to Betty. "Have you come up with any more names for your sister?"

Betty coming up with names for her little sister was a way of her having a part in her little sister's life before she even gets here.

However, this time, Betty only had one. "Willow."

18 days later...

Just as Penelope hung up the phone on Emily, her personal phone pinged in her purse.

There was a notification from Y/N. In a picture from a hospital room, Y/N sat in the bed, cradling a bundle; Spencer sat at her side with Betty in the middle of them, the evidence of tears having rolled down the little girl's face.

Meet Willow Penelope Reid, born 5:37am, 6 pounds 9 oz; mom and baby are well. Oh, and Betty has asked Spencer to adopt her!

Penelope was crying when she called JJ. "Hey, Garcia."

"Y/N had the baby, and my name is the baby's middle name!" Penelope cried, and before JJ could say anything. "And Betty wants Spencer to adopt her!"

JJ smiled softly. "Well, we will have to go visit them once they are out of the hospital and settled in at home."

[marauder-misprint]

A Sirius Person

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.8k words

cw: fluff

The last day before Christmas break flew by. You’re glad that you weren’t the only student unable to pay attention to reviews that the professors were attempting to cover. You officially have a boyfriend, and no one knew about it. At least, as far as you are aware. Although, with the amount of times you caught James, Remus and Peter glancing in your direction, you feel it’s safe to assume that Sirius told them. 

As excited about it as you are, you don't know how to tell your friends. You tell yourself that Dorcas should be the first to know and then Regulus, and then it wouldn’t matter who heard from who. You know you have to tell them before you leave for break. You owe it to them. They are part of the reason you ever gave Sirius a chance. 

You decide you’ll tell them at dinner. That way they’ll have some time to process before you disappear for two weeks. 

You’re walking with Dorcas to the Great Hall and reach out for her arm.

“What?” she asks snappishly. She’s hungry, you can’t blame her.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you say.

The two of you step off the side so you aren’t blocking the way for other hangry students. 

“Well?” 

“I’m dating… someone.” Fuck. You chickened out at the last second.

Dorcas’ hands jump to cup your face and she’s suddenly in your space.

“Please tell me it’s Sirius Black. Please, please, please - I need Potter to owe me five galleons!” 

Your eyes go wide. “You were betting on if we’d get together?” 

“If and when, baby,” she says with a growing smile, sensing that she was right. “Remus didn’t think it was ever going to happen, Peter said after Hogwarts and James said in the spring. Lily and Mary were holding out for next year. Marls is convinced you’ve been dating since that first date.”

Laughter escapes you and Dorcas removes her hands from your face triumphantly. 

“So do they all owe you money or just James? Because, ah, you’re right.”

“I’m going to be rich!” she hisses in your ear before darting into the Great Hall in the direction of the Gryffindor table. 

You watch her go to collect her winnings and thump Sirius on the back. You’re about to head towards the Slytherin table when a voice stops you.

“What’s that about?”

Regulus. 

“Ah, just the guy I was looking for! I have something to tell you.” 

He walks up to your side with his hands clasped behind him.

“If it’s about Meadowes’ bet with the Gryffindors, I’m already aware. She even offered me a chance to join.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be fair,” he sighs as he starts to walk into the hall and you match his stride. “I’m too close with both parties. I have too much sway.”

“And Dorcas isn’t close enough with both of us?” 

“Friends with both, yes. But I think we both know that if I firmly told Sirius to stand down, he would. And you, well, at first I thought you’d be easier to convince to drop him but now, I… don’t… know…” His words slow as he finally notices the golden shimmer in Dorcas’ hands across the hall. “Bloody hell, is she collecting winnings?” He turns to face you more fully before you can sit down. “Is Meadowes collecting winnings?” 

You chuckle awkwardly. “That’s what I need to tell you.”

“It’s official?” 

“It’s official, Reg.” 

You wait for a change in his expression. A flash, glimmer or twitch or anything. Nothing. Regulu has firm control over his emotions. He takes his seat at the table and you do as well.

“How long has it been?”

“Um, yesterday,” you say semi-nervously. Was he going to chew you out for waiting a day to tell him?

“Damn, so Dorcas wins either way,” he mutters as he piles food onto his plate. 

“What?” You’re not sure if you heard him correctly. 

“The bet. If I joined, I would’ve had my money on after the date but you kept it quiet. And depending on how much later we were allowed to alter the bets, I would’ve changed it to as soon as he found you after that party.”

“Huh…” 

You sit with your thoughts for a few minutes. Dorcas joins the Slytherin table and the conversations around you. Her pockets jingle every time she reaches over the table. Then something that hadn’t occurred to you before does. 

“Regulus, does this change anything between us?” you ask cautiously.

“It means you can’t be my date to Slughorn’s parties anymore, if that’s what you mean. One of you will have to join.” 

You laugh and give his shoulder a light shove.

“Not what I mean, but I think that answers it all the same.” 

---

As you pack your things, you double and triple check that you have the quill set that Sirius bought for you. You would never hear the end of it from him if you wrote to him over break with a different quill. Sure, you could technically lie to him and tell him you did when you really didn’t, but it wouldn’t feel right to start the relationship off with a lie. Especially one that, if this lasted, would make a great story one day. 

When the last of your things are packed away, you make your way to breakfast. Instead of going to the Slytherin table, you go to the Gryffindor table and plop down next to Sirius.

“Isn’t this a pleasant surprise!” Sirius says, unable to contain his joy at your decision. 

“Figured I should spend some time with you before I don’t see you for two weeks,” you reply teasingly. 

You reach for a mug and the bowl of sugar. You get an uneasy feeling in your stomach from the feeling of the four boys’ eyes on you. 

“This… is okay that I’m sitting here, yeah?” you ask as uncertainty and insecurity course through your body. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” James answers, matching his grin to Sirius’. “I mean, I would’ve preferred you waited until after the break to make things official, but, erm, what’s it muggles say? … Shit happens?”

You burst out laughing as does everyone around you.

“I think that phrase is universal, Prongs,” Peter wheezes. 

James hums and ponders what the muggle-specific phrase he’s thinking of is.

“C’est la vie? Viva la vida? It is what it is? Shit outta luck? Bollocks?” 

With each phrase, the laughter grew stronger.

“Give it up,” Remus says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe leave the muggle phrases to those who actually know them.” 

James sighs but stops spewing possible phrases. It’s obvious that he’s frustrated that he didn’t find the one he was looking for. The conversation changes back to what you assume was being talked about before you sat down: the excitement of break. The boys seem to have solid plans about getting together already. James and Sirius are far more excited about going home to the Potters than Remus and Peter do about going to their families. It’s a little odd to you that none of them are asking you about your plans, but it’s your first time sitting with them outside of Gryffindor Tower so you don’t mind all that much. It probably didn’t help that the girls who you usually sat with in their common room were a few seats down, having their own conversation. 

It does start to get on your nerves as the conversation drifts to new topics and no question or comment is ever directed at you, except for ones from Sirius. You know it will take time for his friends to feel fully comfortable around you, but you’d appreciate it if you felt more included. At least you feel noticed by Sirius. When everyone gets up to head to the train station in Hogsmeade, he walks with you a little bit behind the group.

“They’ll warm up to you,” he assures you without needing you to say anything first. “They just have to realize that you’re not going anywhere.”

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his pack of cigarettes and offers you one. You give him a smile as you take one and he lights it for you. Then he takes one for himself. A comfortable silence falls between you. You can’t quite hear the conversation from his friends in front of you, but every few steps, laughter echoes around them. A small part of you wonders if Sirius wishes he were with them, laughing and being a part of their conversation, but then you look at him. He is already looking at you with a content smile on his face, and your worries dissipates. 

As you get closer to Hogsmeade, Sirius breaks the silence between you. “So, you know how you’re an animal person?” 

You give him a fond yet annoyed look before you take another drag on your cigarette. 

“Are you still on this dog person thing? I think we’ve established that you fall into that category.”

“That I’m a dog or you like me?” he says with a grin. 

You roll your eyes, hoping that he’ll get the point. Both.

“Okay, okay. I just need to know. Actually… I want to hear you say it because… reasons.” He clears his throat. “Would you say that you’re a Sirius person?”

You cock your head. That wasn’t at all what you were expecting. “A serious person? I mean, I guess I focus on my studies and think some of your pranks are too much, but-”

“No, no, love,” Sirius interrupts you. “A Sirius person,” he repeats, gesturing to himself this time. 

“Oh!” you choke out a laugh. “I suppose I would consider myself a Sirius person now.”

“Oi! Prongs! Moony! Wormtail!” he yells, getting them to turn around. “Did you hear her? She said it!” 

He pumps his fist in the air, making you laugh harder. Then he turns back to you.

“You’ll join us in our compartment? I want to spend as much time with you as I can. And it will help them warm up to you. You’ll just have to put up with their bullshit for a bit.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. Just let me find Dorcas and them first,” you say with a smile. 

Sirius reaches to give your hand a squeeze before you disappear into the crowd at Hogsmeade Station. His smile remains as he loses sight of you. He couldn’t be happier. He had successfully converted you into a Sirius person. You loved Padfoot. You were his girlfriend. And to top it all off, he was going home to a family that actually loved him. A family that would lovingly tease him endlessly when he got excited for each one of your letters when they arrived. A family that would drive him into the city to meet up with you if he asked. And he would. 

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife, @azure-drag0ness, @sunowee, @mysteriouslyperfecttiger

the end ♡ If inspiration strikes, I may write random blurbs for this Sirius x reader. Like, I could see me writing some of their letter exchanges, a date over break, Reader finding out that Sirius is Padfoot, etc. BUT, any of that won't be for a while. Again, my deepest thanks to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented, asked to be tagged, asked for updates - you make writing worth it

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Could you do reader being super busy on valentines and thinking sweetheart!anakin forgot about it and came home upset just to see the living room decorated with valentines decor and candles then later after they eat the dinner anakin made, they cuddle and watch romcoms and reader tears up from the overwhelming love pretty pleaseeee!!!

PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

ANAKIN SKYWALKER doesn’t get the hype. He never has.

All week, the world has been drowning in Valentine’s Day propaganda—tacky heart-shaped balloons, overpriced bouquets, too sweet themed chocolates, desperate men running around last minute to prove their love.

It’s ridiculous. It’s performative.

If you love someone, you should show them that every day. At least that's how he was raised.

If a man really loved his girl, he should show her every single day, every single hour, every minute, every second.

And he did.

In every little thing.

When he woke up before you and made your morning coffee just the way you liked it. When he pulled you against his chest at night, tucking your head beneath his chin because he couldn’t sleep unless you were close. When he kissed your temple absentmindedly while passing behind you in the kitchen. When he memorized every tiny detail about you—the way your lips parted slightly when you focused, the way you always did a little spin when you were happy, the way you got this certain look when you were about to be stubborn.

So no, he didn’t need Valentine’s Day. But… he knew you secretly loved it.

So, here he is—pacing through the dining room, hands on his hips, eyes flicking over every last detail to make sure everything is just perfect. Because if there’s one thing Anakin Skywalker is going to do, it’s make sure you’re loved. Properly. Every damn day.

You weren’t expecting much this year. Anakin has made it very clear how he feels about Valentine’s Day. And honestly? You agreed with him.

You love how he loves you—every day, in a hundred different ways.

The way he never lets you open your own car door. The way he keeps a hand on your back when you walk through a crowd. The way he rubs your feet without you having to ask, even when he’s tired himself. How he drags most of the grocery bags, not wanting you to have the heaviest. How he knows every single little details of your life, in a good way

So no, you don’t need a big Valentine’s Day thing. You have valentine's every day, if you were being honest

So when you step through the front door and see the house bathed in candlelight—warm, flickering red wax dripping from every available surface—your breath caught in your throat, heart stopping working just for a second, eyes widening to make sure you're not dreaming.

“Ani?” you call softly, stepping inside

And then you smell it.

Rich tomato sauce, garlic, fresh basil—your favorite Italian dish. Your favorite.

You follow the scent to the dining room, and—oh.

He’s standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the table like he didn’t just turn your whole world upside down. Warm glow created by the candlelight caught in his golden curls, in the soft blue of his stupidly beautiful eyes.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, yet there’s still, always, something soft behind it.

He pushes off the table, moving towards you with that unfair grace of his, like he’s already got you figured out. Like he knows you’re two seconds from melting.

His hands are warm when they slide over your waist, pulling you in close—chests flush, foreheads nearly touching.

“You know how I feel about today,” he murmurs, and you nod, hands curling over his biceps.

“But.” His nose brushes yours. “You love it.”

Your heart did a flip of shy happiness

“And I love you.”

Oh. Oh.

“I love you every damn day,” he says, and then—finally—he kissed you. Slow, deep, deliberate.

Like he's proving his point.

Anakin pulled back with a grin. “C’mon,” he said, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you towards the dining table. “Made your favorite.”

Your eyes widened. Sure enough, an entire Italian feast was laid out by candlelight—fresh pasta, warm garlic bread, a bottle of your favorite wine already uncorked.

Your chest burned with love. Tears ready to spill out of your eyes

“You did all this?” you whispered.

“Course I did, baby.”

And when he pulled out your chair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking his own seat across from you, you realized—

Maybe he did love you a little extra today.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @nikiloveshayden @cloverina

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Valentine's Day Surprise (Casey Novak x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Liv organises a blind date for you on Valentine's Day. Casey is less than pleased about it.

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Jealousy, implied smut, hints of possessiveness, hair pulling, swearing

“Valentine’s Day is a bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

Casey glanced up, her heart thudding in her chest. You were standing to the side with Liv, your arms crossed over your chest, lips quirking up into a half smile, almost ironic as you looked at her. You’d thrown your hair up into a messy ponytail, your jeans clinging to the shape of your ass perfectly, the afternoon light softening your expression. You were a thing of beauty, one that stole her breath.

And you weren’t even looking at her.

“It’s the only night she’s free this week,” Liv said, “but if you’re not game…”

“No no, I’ll go. But just know that it’s starting out with some serious judgement,” you said.

“Well that’s an auspicious start,” she said.

You laughed, shaking your head in that way that Casey found so endearing.

“I’m just saying, if this works out, it’ll be some story to tell,” you said.

“If what works out?” Casey couldn’t help herself from asking.

Your eyes met hers and she felt her breath still in her chest. You were still smiling, lips curling up, softening as you looked at her. The half step closer you took towards her made her fingertips tingle.

“Liv has set me up on a blind date,” you said. Her heart stopped, “on Valentine’s Day.”

“That’s a bit intense for a first date, isn’t it?” she faintly heard herself ask.

“That’s what I said,” you laughed.

“If you’re so against it I can cancel on her,” Liv said.

“Oh I’ll go,” you said, turning back to her.

Casey turned away, grateful to not be under your watchful gaze anymore. Her face had frozen in the imitation of a smile, trying not to show how her blood had run cold. You laughed again and her heart squeezed painfully.

She glanced over out of the corner of her eye. You were still laughing, mostly to yourself as you moved on to the reports on your desk. Liv gave her a knowing look. She turned away, burning up from the inside out.

The trouble was, she’d been half in love with you for over a year now and hadn’t made a move. It was manageable when she only heard the disastrous results of your dates, but before, when there was still hope in you, when you were looking forward to it, when it was still possible it would go well, she felt something toxic running through her veins. She’d continually told herself it was for the best. You worked together. If you didn’t feel the same or it didn’t work out it would be intolerable.

The way she was feeling now was intolerable.

“Get me something I can use,” she said after listening to Stabler’s excuses.

You bumped your shoulder against her as she passed by you, grinning up at her. Her heart tripped over itself, your warmth blooming over her. She swept out of the precinct, doing her best not to focus on the tumult of emotions you’d awoken in her.

It ate away at her. For days she stewed over the image of you on a date with a faceless woman. The way you’d reach out to her, flirting over drinks, kissing her when you decided she was worth bringing home. The way you would look as someone else lowered themselves between your legs. The burn of not being the one you were with.

She stayed late at work that day. It wasn’t as if she was the one with a hot date on Valentine’s Day. Sinking into work should have helped her forget about whatever it was you were getting up to. It should have chased away the images of you all dressed up and glowing under the attention of another woman. She shouldn’t have dwelled on exactly what you were getting up to in the company of your date.

She slammed her file closed, not able to stop thinking about it. She was failing at ignoring you and was failing at working. All she could focus on was the way you would smile at your date as you led her into your apartment, the slow seduction of peeling off your clothes, the way you’d touch her in your bed.

Just sitting there thinking about it, she could feel her blood boiling beneath her skin.

She shoved her files into her bag, collecting up anything she thought she might need over the weekend. Slamming the door behind her, she strode down onto the darkened street, raising her hand to hail a cab. There was only one way she was going to stop the feeling in her stomach churning until she felt like she would explode.

Your door stared back at her. She’d had the entire cab ride to calm down. It hadn’t worked.

Days of stewing in the image of you with someone else, someone claiming you, you wanting someone who wasn’t her. She was done. She wanted it to be her hands on you, her lips on yours, her body in your bed.

She wanted you.

Hammering her fist against your door, she knew the likelihood of you being in was low. You could still be on your date, or at her place. But on the off chance you were in there with her, this unknown woman who had finagled a date with you on Valentine’s Day in a childish attempt to seduce you, she was going to stop it before it got too far. She wasn’t going to let anyone else have you.

She almost fell forward when you pulled the door open, not truly believing you would be inside. You laughed, catching her around your elbows to keep her upright.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” you said.

“You’re home.”

Your lips kept ticking up into a wider smile.

“And lucky I was or else you would have bashed my door down,” you said, “what’s up?”

“I…”

She’d been so fired up on the way over that to be presented with you at home was something she hadn’t expected. You weren’t even dressed up in your date clothes. Your sweats and tank top suggested being curled up on the couch with ice cream, not getting hot and heavy with some unseen woman. Without your date, there was no reason for her to be there. She wasn’t interrupting anything.

“How about we start with if you’re here for work or pleasure?” you asked when no proper answer was forthcoming.

“Aren’t you meant to be on a date right now?” she managed to ask.

“Careful, counsellor. You keep on like this and I’ll start to think you wish I hadn’t been here to meet you,” you said, “come on. No point standing in the hall.”

With the hands still holding onto her, you tugged her into your apartment. The door shutting felt like a gunshot, loud to her ears, even as your touch burned through her. It looked as if she’d been right. A tub of ice cream sat abandoned on your coffee table, your tv paused on some romcom. You didn’t bother hiding any of it, seemingly unembarrassed for how she’d found you.

“Did you even go on your date?” she asked, taking in the entire scene.

“Sure,” you replied, “but twenty minutes in we both agreed Liv was way off the money.”

“Liv?” she asked, turning to look at you. This felt more familiar. Gathering the facts to build a case was her bread and butter.

“She set up the date. Didn’t you know that? Some friend from one of the local papers. But she must have been on something when she came up with that idea because there was no chemistry and we certainly had nothing in common,” you replied.

“You weren’t attracted to her?” she asked.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. She was gorgeous. Just not my type.” You shrugged.

“Oh?” Her heart did something funny in her chest, “what is?”

“Someone smart. Someone with a strong sense of justice. Someone passionate,” you said, “someone who makes me smile.”

Her stomach swooped.

“But I doubt you came here to have a fun girly chat about my failed date,” you said.

You were still smiling at her and there was a twinkle in your eye. Her breath caught at the way you were looking at her, with such fondness. She shook her head, looking away.

“Your ice cream is melting,” she said.

You snorted. She watched you bend to snatch it up, the curve of your ass stretching the fabric of your sweats. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, having to tear her eyes away from you. No need to be caught staring.

“Case, c’mon, why are you really here?” you asked once you’d shoved the carton of ice cream back into your freezer.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing up your breasts. Her eyes slipped down, tongue dragging along your lower lip as she stared. What she wouldn’t do to get her mouth on those tits.

“Casey.”

Her eyes snapped back up to yours. There was no mistaking the amusement on your face, nor the way your eyes were twinkling as they looked at her. She felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks.

“Come on. You can tell me,” you said, “I promise not to make fun of you.”

“Why would you make fun of me?” she asked.

“Dunno. But whatever you came here for it must be pretty serious if you won’t even say it out loud,” you said.

She took a deep breath, turning away from you. Sinking down onto your couch, she finally released the death grip she had on her briefcase, letting it drop to the ground. The cushions beside her dipped, your body closer than she would have liked while trying to figure out how to move past this.

She’d had a plan. She’d worked it all out in her head on the way over. She should have expected you to send it all to hell the moment you’d opened the door.

“I’m guessing you showing up at my door like this means you didn’t have your own hot date,” you said, your shoulder nudging hers.

She turned her head towards you. You were close enough that her nose brushed yours, breath ghosting over her lips. She couldn’t help her eyes dipping down to your lips. They were so pretty, just begging to be kissed. The thought of someone else claiming them that night had driven her here.

The fire of her anger might have been doused, but the fire of her desire had only flared higher.

She surged forward, lips pressing to yours.Your hands cupped her cheeks, drawing her closer. She might have been all fire, but you were soft, like the petal of a flower, kissing her thoroughly. Any control she’d had slipped away under your touch.

When you lifted yourself, depositing yourself in her lap, straddling her, all she could do was groan. Her hands found your hips, gripping tightly, chin tipped up, so close to begging for more. Your tongue tasted of sugar, strawberry ice cream lingering despite the heat between you. She moaned, clutching you tighter.

Your fingers slipped into her hair, tugging on it in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. Her fingertips dipped below the waistband of your sweats, feeling your soft skin beneath her touch. You moaned into her mouth, hips rocking forward, fingers tightening in her hair. There was something irresistible about you being a moaning mess in her lap.

“Case,” you mumbled against her mouth, “fuck, Casey.”

“Shhh, baby,” she murmured, kissing you again.

You let her, melting against her. You made such a pretty noise, a small whimper crossed with a whine. She let her hands push further into your sweats, grasping your ass over your panties, groaning when she felt the lace against her skin. Your teeth sunk into her lower lip, tugging on it before you pulled back.

Your lips were kiss swollen, eyes blown wide, chest heaving for breath. You were a picture of wanton desire, a painting that should be hung on the wall of the Louvre. Except Casey didn’t want anyone seeing you like this except her.

“Gonna tell me why you were trying to bash down my door now?” you asked.

“I think you know,” she managed to say, surprised she was still capable of forming sentences.

���I want to hear you say it,” you said, “or maybe I should stay on my side of the couch.”

You went to swing one leg off her. The grip she still had on your ass tugged you back, holding you in place, refusing to let you move. Looking down at her, your lips pulled up into a smirk. You tilted her chin up, your other hand burying itself back in her hair, right at the nape of her neck, pulling deliciously.

“Tell me,” you said, a good natured command.

“I don’t like the thought of someone else touching you like this.” She squeezed the globes of your ass.

“You were jealous,” you said.

“I was jealous,” she repeated, jaw clenching.

“And your plan when you showed up here was what exactly?” you asked.

“I was going to interrupt before she could fuck you,” she growled.

“What if we had gone back to her place?” you asked.

“I don’t know.”

You lent forward, breath ghosting over her lips, but your hold kept her from surging up to claim your lips in another bruising kiss.

“And how were you going to convince me to kick a gorgeous woman out of my bed?” you asked.

She growled again, not liking your line of questioning. She certainly didn’t like the images they left in her head.

“By offering you a replacement of higher value,” she replied.

“You have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?” you chuckled.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

Using the hands on your ass, she dragged you closer, able to feel the heat emanating from you.

“In fact, you seem pretty fucking pleased right now,” she said.

You lent forward, your nose running along her jaw. She let her head fall to the side, offering herself to you. Even as she argued, she knew you had the upper hand.

“I’m just glad you finally made a move.” Your lips brushed her skin, “took you long enough.”

“What do you mean?”

Any arguments she might have had were scattered to the wind as you kissed a long line to her ear.

“I’ve been dropping hints for months. Did you not notice?” you asked before your teeth closed over her earlobe.

“Why didn’t you make a move then?” she managed to get out despite the moan.

“And miss the chance to see you get all jealous? No chance,” you said, drawing back, “it’s very sexy.”

Your teeth sunk into your own lower lip as you gazed down at her. She could see the smile threatening to break over your face and even as your amusement was at her expense, she found you breathtaking. Her hands slipped from under your sweats, curling around your waist to hold you close.

“I wish you’d told me before,” she said, “we could have been doing this for months.”

“We’re here now,” you said, forehead falling forward against hers.

“But we could be moving to your bed,” she said.

“Oh no. It’s Valentine’s Day and you kept me waiting. You’re going to romance me before I give up the goods,” you said.

“I have to woo you?” she asked.

“You’re the one who came here all self righteous, hoping to do the whole big confession thing,” you laughed.

You clambered off her lap, despite her protests, settling beside her. Resting your head on her shoulder, you curled up against her, reaching for the remote you’d left abandoned when you’d answered the door. She sighed, curling her arm around your waist, keeping you close.

“Alright,” she said, “but just know I was prepared to leave you very satisfied tonight.”

“We have plenty of time for that,” you said.

But when your hand slipped to her inner thigh as you watched the movie, she knew you’d be giving her everything she wanted that night, and every night after.

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Valentine's day

SYPNOSIS : valentine's day has come and so has your boyfriend's excitement (some of you are married)

1 2 3

Megumi fushiguro (boyfie)

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader A Valentine’s day

Pretends He Doesn't Care, But He Really Does – Megumi acts like Valentine’s Day is just another normal day. If anyone (Gojo) teases him about it, he just shrugs and mumbles, “It’s not a big deal.” But in reality? He’s been secretly stressing over it for weeks googling gift ideas at 2 AM, trying (and failing) to ask Yuji for advice, and overthinking literally everything.

The Gift Is Perfectly Thought Out – He doesn’t go for something cliché like flowers or chocolates (unless you really like them). Instead, he gets you something incredibly thoughtful like a book you mentioned once in passing, a small trinket that reminds him of you, or even something handmade (but he’ll never admit how long he worked on it). When he gives it to you, he just mutters, “It’s nothing special.” (Translation: ‘I spent way too much time making sure this was perfect for you.’)

A Date That’s Low-Key But So Him – Megumi isn’t one for fancy dinners or loud places. He takes you somewhere quiet and peaceful maybe a walk through a scenic park, stargazing on a rooftop, or even just spending the evening with his divine dogs curled up beside you. He doesn’t need extravagance; he just needs you.

So Awkward When You Compliment Him – If you tell him how much you love his gift or his effort, he freezes. His ears turn red, and he tries so hard to play it cool, looking away as he mutters, “Well… good. I’m glad you like it.” But his small, hidden smile? Absolutely priceless.

Acts Tough but Gets So Protective – If anyone so much as looks at you weirdly while you’re out, Megumi glares at them so hard they immediately back off. If it’s cold, he subtly pushes his jacket toward you, muttering, “You should wear this.” If you’re walking somewhere crowded, he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you carefully. He won’t say he’s being protective, but it’s so obvious.

The Softest Goodbye (That He Pretends Isn’t a Big Deal) – At the end of the night, he lingers for just a second too long, shifting on his feet like he doesn’t want to leave. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he leans in and presses a soft, quick kiss to your forehead, barely above a whisper as he says, “Happy Valentine’s.” And then? He’s gone, hands in his pockets, ears completely red, walking away way too fast.

IIijichi Kiyotaka (boyfie)

Iijichi Kiyotaka x Reader valentine's day

Stressed but Trying His Best – Iijichi wants to make this Valentine’s Day special for you, but let’s be honest he’s been so busy dealing with Gojo’s nonsense that he almost forgot what day it was. (Almost.) Cue him scrambling to put together something meaningful while internally panicking.

A Practical but Thoughtful Gift – He’s not flashy, but his gift is something you actually need maybe a high quality scarf because he noticed you shivering last week, or a planner with little handwritten notes of encouragement inside. It’s so him quiet, thoughtful, and full of love in the smallest details.

A Date That’s Simple But Surprisingly Romantic – Iijichi isn’t about grand gestures, so your date is something intimate and quiet maybe a peaceful drive to a scenic spot, a cozy dinner at a small restaurant, or just an evening at home with warm drinks and soft music playing in the background. He doesn’t need extravagance he just wants to be with you.

Blushes So Much If You Compliment Him – When you thank him for the effort he put in, he immediately turns red and waves it off. “It’s nothing special,” he mutters, but you can tell he’s so flustered. If you kiss his cheek? Instant shutdown. Rebooting in progress.

Nervously Holds Your Hand But Doesn’t Let Go – At first, he hesitates (should he? would you mind?), but when you take his hand first, he softly squeezes it and never lets go for the rest of the night.

The Most Gentle Love Confession – At the end of the evening, when you’re about to part ways, he hesitates before softly saying, “I… I know I’m not the most exciting guy, but… I hope you know I’d do anything to make you happy.” And then he looks away, adjusting his glasses like he didn’t just steal your heart.

The Sweetest Goodbye – He’s not good with big, dramatic gestures, so instead, he lingers for a moment, brushing his fingers over yours before giving you a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead. Then, in a quiet voice, he says, “Happy Valentine’s… and, um… drive safely.” (You know that’s his way of saying I love you.)

Aoi TODO (boyfie)

Aoi Todo x Reader Valentine’s Day

LOUD AND PROUD ABOUT HIS LOVE – Todo doesn’t just celebrate Valentine’s Day he declares it. He wakes up, slaps his chest, and says “TODAY IS THE DAY I SPOIL MY PERFECT PARTNER.” If anyone (especially Yuji) asks about his plans, he grins and says, “A real man gives their lover the BEST Valentine’s experience.” (Cue Yuji regretting asking.)

THE MOST OVER-THE-TOP SURPRISE – Todo is not a low-key guy, so of course, he goes all out. There’s a whole day long itinerary, and he presents it to you dramatically like it’s a mission briefing. Expect something like:

Brunch at the best café in town (because only the finest for you!)

A shopping spree where he INSISTS you pick whatever you want (and flexes about how he’s paying, even though he totally budgeted for this weeks ago).

An insane activity like bungee jumping or an escape room, because “adventure strengthens love!”

A “mystery finale” that turns out to be him serenading you at karaoke with WAY too much confidence.

A GIFT THAT SCREAMS ‘I AM THE BEST BOYFRIEND’ – He refuses to do anything basic. Instead of regular chocolates? A custom made box filled with flavors he specifically chose based on your personality. Instead of a bouquet? A gigantic, dramatic flower arrangement that turns heads wherever you go. And if you have any hobbies, you best believe he researched the best possible gift for it (and boasts about how thoughtful he is).

GETS JEALOUS OVER IMAGINARY RIVALS – At some point, he crosses his arms and asks, “Surely, no other fool has dared to try and win your affection today?” You laugh and say no, but he huffs dramatically. “If they did, I’d CRUSH them. No one else deserves you but ME.” (He’s literally acting like a shoujo anime love interest, and it’s hilarious.)

Goes from LOUD AND CHAOTIC to SOFT AND SWEET – Despite all his bragging, Todo actually gets so soft when he looks at you. At the end of the night, when you’re tired from the ridiculous day he planned, he gently takes your hands and says, “I meant what I said, you know. You deserve the best, and I’ll always be the man who gives it to you.” (And for once, he’s actually not joking.)

GIVES YOU THE MOST DRAMATIC GOODBYE EVER – Right before you part ways, he flips his hair back, holds your chin like a K-drama lead, and says, “Until next time, my greatest love.” (And then walks away like he’s in a slow-motion movie scene.)

Itadori Yuji (boyfiee)

Itadori Yuji x Reader The Most Fun and Adorable Valentine’s Day

SO EXCITED IT’S ACTUALLY CUTE – Yuji wakes up on Valentine’s Day grinning like a fool. He’s been planning for weeks, and he’s so proud of himself. He texts you first thing in the morning something like “HAPPY VALENTINE’S, MY FAVORITE PERSON!!! GET READY FOR THE BEST DAY EVER!!!” (All caps, way too many emojis, so much enthusiasm.)

Goes ALL OUT on the Date – Yuji refuses to have a boring Valentine’s. Fancy dinner? Nah. He’s taking you on a chaotic, fun-filled adventure arcade games (he gets way too competitive but insists on winning you a prize), a ridiculous themed café (he totally buys the most extra-looking dessert just to see your reaction), or even a spontaneous road trip with a terrible but amazing playlist blasting in the background.

His Gift? Made With So Much Love – Yuji’s the kind of guy who puts his whole heart into gift-giving. He might not be the best at crafts, but he definitely makes you a cute scrapbook full of pictures, silly notes, and doodles of you two. If he buys you something, it’s so specific like a limited edition item from your favorite show or a stuffed animal that reminded him of you. He’s so giddy when he hands it over, like “Open it, open it!!”

ABSOLUTELY MELTS IF YOU GIVE HIM A GIFT TOO – The second you hand him something, his eyes widen, and he just stares at you like you hung the stars in the sky. “Wait… you got something for me too??” (As if you wouldn’t??). Then he just laughs in disbelief before pulling you into the biggest, warmest hug.

Is Just So in Love With You – Yuji is not subtle. Throughout the day, he keeps looking at you with that soft, love-struck smile, like he can’t believe you’re real. He’s the type to say, “Wow, you’re so pretty,” completely out of nowhere and then laugh when you get flustered.

Ends the Day With a Hug That Lasts Too Long – When it’s time to part ways, he just clings to you, burying his face in your shoulder. “I don’t wanna go,” he whines dramatically. “Can we just rewind the day and do it all over again?” (He’s only half-joking.)

The Softest, Most Genuine Confession – Right before you leave, he suddenly stops, rubs the back of his neck, and looks at you so seriously. Then, in the softest voice, he says, “I hope you know that every day with you feels like Valentine’s. I’m just really, really lucky to have you.” (And then he grins like an idiot because he totally just made you blush.)

Masamichi Yaga (husband)

Masamichi Yaga x Reader A Warm and Steady Valentine’s Day

Doesn’t Make a Big Deal Out of It, But Still Shows Up – Yaga isn’t the type to fuss over Valentine’s Day, but he still makes sure you feel appreciated. He acts like it’s just another day, but then casually hands you a well wrapped gift, saying, “Here. Thought you’d like this.”

The Gift Is Practical But So Thoughtful – He doesn’t do flowers or chocolates, but he knows what you like. Maybe it’s a high-quality jacket because he noticed you shivering last week, or a handmade doll he definitely didn’t spend hours on (but totally did).

A Simple but Meaningful Date – He keeps it chill a cozy dinner at home, a walk under the stars, or just sitting together with tea, talking about anything and everything. He enjoys presence over big gestures.

The Type to Say Something That Unexpectedly Melts You – At some point in the evening, he casually mutters, “You know, I don’t say it enough… but I appreciate you. A lot.” It’s so simple, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart clench.

A Goodbye That’s Subtle But Sweet – Before bed, he pulls you into a strong, warm hug longer than usual. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and simply says, “Happy Valentine’s, sweetheart.” No unnecessary fluff, just pure, steady love.

[bammthebandit]

Hallway Crush!Ino who is slumped over an overcrowded desk in his dorm after class. He'd rushed back to his dorm building in hopes of getting a few more minutes of sleep before heading off to his internship. When he initially applied for it, he was over the moon and absolutely ecstatic. But as of late, it's been more of a burden than anything.

Hallway Crush!Ino who has spent the last two weeks trying to juggle studying for his midterms, classes that required mandatory attendance, and working eight-hour shifts for his internship. Safe to assume it's taken a toll on both his body and his grades. He'd hardly studied for his statistics midterm, which was arguably the most difficult out of the four he would be taking that month. It was all stressing him out more than he'd like to admit.

Hallway Crush!Ino who slowly rises from his desk and makes his way to the bathroom. He should be getting ready to head out about now, but his phone vibrates in his pocket before he can switch the restroom light on. "New Message"

Hallway Crush!Ino who scratches the back of his neck in confusion before clicking the notification

“Hey Ino, this is ୨୧ from your statistics class. I think I have something that belongs to you”

[image attachment]

Hallway Crush!Ino who is even more confused now, quickly switches on the light of his bathroom and looks in the mirror. He really had left his beanie. How could he not notice? The familiar weight that was usually atop his head was nowhere to be found. He's quick to open his phone and type a reply.

"hey ୨୧ , yeah that is mine

i appreciate you for grabbing it for me,

is there any way you'd be down to meet up now so i can grab it from you?"

Hallway Crush!Ino who hurriedly gets dressed for his internship. If he's lucky you'll reply fast enough for him to grab his beanie before he has to clock in. Although he doubts you'd have the time. Maybe he could just see if you'd be available tomorrow. Or maybe he should just wait until class on Tues-

*ding*

Hallway Crush!Ino whose phone goes off before he can even finish that thought.

"yeah ofc!

I figured you'd want it back asap

just lmk where you'd like to meet up so you can grab it :)"

Hallway Crsuh!Ino who thinks you might just be an angel for that offer. Breathing a sigh of relief, he puts his shoes on and grabs his keys.

"you're a life saver

could you meet me outside of the welding building in 10?"

"bet

I'm not far from there so I'll head there now

see u soon"

Hallway Crush!Ino who arrives 10 minutes later just as he said he would and finds you sitting on one of the benches in front of the welding building. You stand from your seat as he approaches and offer a small smile.

"And here I thought you'd be the type to take care of his valuables."

He chuckles a bit at that. "I swear I normally am, I've just been out of it lately"

You offer him a reassuring smile as you hand the beanie over. "I'm sorry to hear that, just remember to take care of yourself okay. If there's anything else I can do just let me know. "

He takes the beanie with a relieved sigh. "I appreciate that...I really do. But since you offered, do uh- do you think you'd be able to study with me a bit this weekend? I know we're in statistics together so I figured it couldn't hurt to ask."

The shock must have shown on your face because he's immediately scrambling after. He looks down at his watch in embarrassment. "I mean you can say no if you want! I promise I'm not trying to use you for your notes or anything! I've just been so busy that I haven't been able to properly study like I usually do, and you look like you know what's going on in class so I figured you know maybe we could work together since I have a bit of free time this weekend. But if you don't want to that's completely-"

"No no it's not that! I'm sorry I'm making you late, aren't I? But I'd love to! It's just that we haven't really spoken much before, so I guess I was just shocked. Sorry if that was weird but I swear I'm down." At this point, you're just rambling. But he really had caught you off guard, for a second you couldn't decipher if this was one of your daydreams or reality.

Hallway Crush!Ino who gets the biggest toothy smile on his face after you agree. "Well alright then, and don't worry about it, I have at least another 5 minutes to spare. And hey, maybe we can grab lunch before too. You know as a thank you for my beanie." He's doing it again, scratching at the hair of his nape, only this time he doesn't really look stressed. In fact, he seems more than happy, so much so that you have a big smile of your own on your face.

"I'd love that."

Hallway Crush!Ino who cheeses as he puts his beanie back on. Finally in its rightful place atop his head covering his soft shaggy hair. "Great...well um I have to go now. But I'll text you later for details yeah?"

Hallway Crush!Ino who is unknowingly biting his lip as he smiles and who is unknowingly driving you absolutely insane. A hand on his nape and the other waving at you as he begins to walk away. "yeah of course" you call out as you walk away yourself.

Hallway Crush!Ino who finally disappears inside the welding building, an absolute giddy mess. Who is actually already 5 minutes late now, but he couldn't let you know that now could he?

Part one

Authors Note:

There's no way people actually liked the first oneeee🥹

Thank you all so much for the looovveee, I have literally been jumping for joy since I posted the first one! Again all of this is done without any proper preparation, so this is just me winging it! Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes, and I apologize if the format is weird. I’m still trying to get the hang of this.

If you guys have any ideas as to what you wanna see from this please feel free to lmkkkk, I like hearing everyone else lise interpretations of this!

INO NATION RIISSSEEEE

anyways love love looovveeee

-bammbo 🧸

[iguessitsjustme]

When It Rains It Pours Ep 6 Thoughts

I have had an incredibly weird day. But the good news is that I can finally watch this episode which will most likely shatter my heart to pieces. BUT it's the first week that I'm watching with everyone else then we all get to spend a week thinking about it and talking about it together. What a wonderful little community this show has here on tumblr (you all have been so nice and so smart and so willing to scream with others and you are all the best forever no matter what anyone else says). I wasn't sure I was gonna continue my liveblog, but here I am. Continuing it. Under the cut:

SEI IS BUYING THE COFFEE. I REPEAT SEI IS BUYING THE COFFEE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I have run out of words. Please tell me someone else has talked about this…I'm not even 5 seconds into the show yet god damn I should control myself.

BUT THEN HE COULDN'T PAY? OH SWEET JESUS. There is meaning here. (sirens hurry the fuck up and drive by I am trying to watch a masterpiece)

Baby boy the feelings are reciprocated. He will save you if you let him. And you can save him in turn.

This. Bastard. Is trying to move Sei away. To alienate him further. He doesn't want Sei to have anyone in his life except him. If he hadn't answered that phone call, he wouldn't be considering moving.

Anger.

Anger and hatred and violence.

His job is literally the only place he ever sees people! He doesn't even really interact with them! But he at least has a place where should he need to talk to someone outside of Fujisawa, there are people there. Not just Kazuaki. But other coworkers. Who based on what we've seen, are all friendly and kind enough. And now Fujiisawa is trying to remove the ONE place Sei has that he does not have access to. I am screaming and crying and gonna jump into this show to knee this man in the groin.

The fact that Sei is listening to rain sounds means that Kazuaki remembered and sent him the link to listen to rain sounds when he wanted. It means that Kazuaki remembered. Thought of him and their conversation. Even before they knew about the emails. He remembered.

You ask like you have a right to know.

He doesn't ask like a friend who's curious and cares about his friend being happy and meeting someone. He asks like he is entitled to that information.

Sei's entire confession is so matter of fact. He doesn't sound remorseful or like he's been caught cheating. He just openly admits to it. Because he knows he likes Kazuaki. Or do we as a fandom call him Hagiwara? I'm not sure on that I just went by what the gaga summary called him for an episode. Please let me know. Anyway. Sei said he started catching feelings.

HE THREW THE PHONE I KILL HIM

GET OFF OF HIM I KILL YOU

SHOOTING LASERS AT HIM

SHOOTING MORE LASERS

Look how red Fujisawa's face is. This is some brilliant lighting work. He is literally red like the devil. Dressed in all black. Pinning Sei down as Sei claws for freedom.

GET OFF OF HIM I WILL RIP YOUR ARMS OFF

Get em baby. Tell him he is the least desirable man on earth.

The purposeful dissonance in the soundtrack right now is truly amazing. (Now I just need these fucking sirens to GO AWAY)

Okay. So I know there's a line to push Fujisawa off a cliff, but what if before anyone pushes him, I go to the bottom and I add some fun little spikes. Just as a treat. For us.

Oh so he just apologizes? I'm gonna stab you with broken glass.

It will take me a minute before I'm able to analyze anything because I am so livid. (I also am angry from something specific at work today so I was already primed for anger and then this fucker)

Hissing

He couldn't if he wanted to. He is a good person. And you are in a bad situation. The second he learns how bad it is, he is never gonna ignore you until he knows you are safe. Until he knows you are free.

HE SEES THE BRUISE. HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS.

Omg I'm gonna cry. The music here. The music. The everything.

No baby boy don't walk away!

What in the homophobia…

If you liked him you would have talked to him. Communicated. If you liked him, you would have set him free. You don't like him. You like the idea of him. And I hope you never find anyone else to trap and make miserable the way you trapped him.

GET HER. READ HER ASS.

Now that Kaori is finally talking to Kazuaki, the framing is different. Before, there was a booth creating a physical barrier between them. Now there is nothing. They are sitting at the same table. Open. Communication. This should have happened SO MUCH EARLIER. Girl. I hate you.

The thing that pisses me off the most about Kaori is that her feelings and her relationship towards sex are completely valid. And she has every right to feel the way she feels. But she never once said anything. She never once told her partner how she was feeling. Even though she knew she was hurting him. She knew he was miserable. But instead of talking to him, she let him suffer. Because she liked him. And she knew an outcome of that talk could have led to them breaking up. And she was so incredibly selfish to never let that happen. She would rather he be miserable and hers than be happy and be free. And that I cannot forgive her for.

And she makes him do the dirty work of breaking up with her. Because she never could do the right thing. Honestly, I think even if she hadn't found out, it would not be long before he broke up with her anyway. He found his happiness elsewhere and he would not be able to live with himself knowing he cheated and knowing he was in love with someone else. Anyway. She should have at least had the decency to be the one to end things because she was not capable of doing it when she should have. AN ENTIRE FUCKING YEAR AGO.

There is something to this show being sandwiched by those two getting coffee. One who wasn't able to get it and one who was kept waiting but did get it eventually.

Also our baby boy is free now! No matter what else happened. He is no longer trapped. He can and will find his happiness. Now he just needs to save Sei.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S NO PREVIEW. IS THERE NO PREVIEW? HELP????

I will probably need to sit with this episode for at least a day to process it before the thoughts come flooding out.

I have hatred in my heart.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Remember That

Title: Remember That

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 966

Warnings: Fluff, sprained wrist, and mentions of guns, bullets, and getting shot

Prompt: "I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me." from this list

Summary: You find Steve after he saves you in the field.

A/N: This is just a quick little drabble I wrote on my phone before bed. It has not been edited. As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. I hope you enjoy!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me,” you say, and you carefully place the mug of tea on the corner of Steve’s desk. Taking a step back, you watch in silence as he stares at the mug, then reaches out to move it to the coaster on his right.

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. I could’ve ended up in the medbay for at least a week, maybe more,” you argue. Dr. Cho had told you that as she’d wrapped up your sprained wrist. You’d all but ran from the infirmary as soon as she was done, desperate to thank Steve now that the gravity of his rescue had set it, but by the time you’d made it to the briefing room, he’d left. Natasha had suggested you check his room. She’d also suggested the tea, which you’d found tucked away on the top shelf, out of reach of greedy hands and mouths.

“I got lucky,” Steve says back, pulling you back to the present.

You tuck your hands into the front pocket of your sweatshirt and fiddle with your phone. The wrap around your wrist makes your sleeve bulky, but thankfully, the pain medicine Dr. Cho gave you has made the incessant ache go away. Steve goes back to signing off on printed mission reports when you don’t reply, and you stand there awkwardly between the side of his desk and the doorway for a few long moments until you work up the nerve to say,

“Bucky could’ve made the shot from the rooftop. You didn’t have to push me out of the way.”

His hand stalls, pushing the pen harder into the paper at the end of an “e” before he carefully sets it down beside the stack of reports.

“He would’ve been able to shoot him with no problem,” you reiterate. “I’m sure he would’ve been happy to, all things considered. The guy was clearly with HYDRA, even if he never admitted to it.”

“Just because he can doesn’t mean he should,” Steve answers.

“I could say the same thing to you.”

He doesn’t answer. He takes a sip of the tea and you pull your hands from the pocket to cross your arms over your chest.

“Steve.”

“Y/N.”

You sigh and drop your hands back down to your sides. “Am I seriously going to have to ask?”

“Ask what?” He knows what you want to know; he’s playing dumb, and it’s exasperating.

“Why did you jump in front of a moving bullet to push me out of the way?�� You’re not exactly meaning to shout, but you do, and heat rushes to your cheeks. Sam had been teaching Wanda how to play euchre in the common area when you’d walked through on your way to Steve’s room, and there’s no doubt they’ve heard you.

Steve has one hand on the mug handle and the other flat on the desk. He stares at the pencil cup tucked up against the wall, then looks up at you.

You’re expecting anger in his eyes, directed at you for being foolish enough not to check for enemies, or maybe directed toward the HYDRA agents you and the rest of the team took down at the warehouse earlier. Instead of anger, however, there’s fear. It makes your stomach twist.

“I couldn’t let him shoot you,” Steve quietly admits. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d been shot.”

You swallow thickly and glance down at the reports, finding it difficult to hold his gaze while he’s looking at you like that.

“It’s an occupational hazard, Steve. Everyone gets shot eventually.”

“But not you. I can’t let it be you that’s shot. Never,” he says.

“Why?” You look back at him, timid under his unwavering gaze. “What do you mean you can’t let it be me?”

“Because I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been for years.”

You stare at him, your mouth dropping open slightly. “You’re… in love with me?”

His cheeks are tinged with pink, as are his ears, but he doesn’t look away. The fear in his eyes is gone now, replaced with an affection you’ve seen on Tony’s face when he watches Pepper dote over Peter and MJ, or Vision’s face while he dutifully hands Wanda ingredients whenever she cooks for the group. It’s love, and there’s no way you could question it.

“I’m in love with you too,” you tell him. “But I don’t know for how long.”

“What do you mean?” He swivels the desk chair so he’s facing you, his legs no longer under the desk. You realize that he hasn’t stripped out of his tactical suit, only pushed it down to his hips to reveal his standard white tee.

“I don’t think I realized I really had feelings for you until earlier this year, when we had to speak at that conference about the emergency evacuation we helped with for that hurricane.”

Steve nods. “I remember. You wore that shirt you like, the one that you found on sale.”

“You remember that?”

He nods.

“How? I mean, I don’t even remember that kind of stuff about my own clothes half the time!” You laugh, leaning against the wall and smiling down at him. Steve shifts to rest his arm on the desk.

“Eidetic memory,” he explains. “And also, it’s you. I remember everything about you.”

That makes your cheeks heat up and you grin wider, ducking your head to try and hide it. You feel so foolish, but it’s a strangely good feeling.

“Thank you for the tea. It’s my favorite kind.”

You look up at him, and when you see his smile, you don’t bother to hide yours any longer. “I’ll remember that for next time,” you promise, and you mean it.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.

If you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium​ @delicatecapnerd

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 2

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* More fluff and sweetness. Adorable and awkward flirting. Workplace romance, technically? Clothing/trying on clothing. Summary: The first day of the movie crew's work is here, and no one is prepared for the whirlwind that this day will bring -- not even you and Javi. Notes: We started off strong with a big ol' error last week guys! Sorry about that. But thank you to those folx who brought it to my attention, you're simply the best readers out there. The start date of ch1 is now fixed and dates are fixed across the board. 🧡 This week enjoy a photo of the music room at The Breakers -- the house that inspired or fictional Hazelwood House.

Friday, April 4, 2025

“Javi, you don’t want to meet with the cast?”

He pauses, looking out of the front window of the little cottage at the wooden stakes marked off in the barren ground. Cleared and ready to be built and now lying abandoned. There didn’t seem to be much need to continue building a house when the woman who he was building it for had left. “They don’t need me at the read through.” He tells his agent, knowing that she had pushed for him to be on set and involved in every aspect of the filming, giving him more creative control. He appreciated it, but he was more excited about where the movie was being filmed than who was in it.

The thing is, Sherry knows him. She knows that there has to be a reason he pushed for the specific shooting location that inspired the script. She knows there's some girl there that he won't talk about – he'd showed up moon eyed to a meeting one day after working on the script and there had been something about it that screamed infatuation. Which is why she has no problem at all pulling the ace out from her proverbial sleeve.

"I would have thought you would want to see the house again." She hums. "Oh well. I'll let them know you're not coming and I'll cancel the car from the studio."

“The meeting is at the house?” He had assumed it was the studio read through. Not at the house. She hums and he starts to panic. “No! No, um, on second thought, I should see who is going to be playing my characters.”

Ever the professional, Sherry keeps her smile polite and betrays no hint of victory, despite the fact that she barely had to fight at all. "The director wanted the cast to be able to look around the house and grounds before the furniture gets swapped out for set pieces." She explains easily.

“Is the staff going to be there?” He asks eagerly. “To answer any questions for the cast? I don’t know a lot about the history, I mean. It would be good, you know, to have them there.” The idea of seeing you again has him already walking into his bathroom to get ready, needing a shower.

"As I understand it, a few of the docents will be there today." So that's what it is. One of the girls from the museum staff. "You have half an hour until the car gets here, Javi," she calls after him, grinning as he immediately hops into high gear.

Javi grins as he starts to rush through his shower. It’s ridiculous how excited he is by the idea of just seeing you again. Especially since he can’t recall ever seeing or hearing your name. He just knows that his entire mood brightens when he thinks about the few times that he’s interacted with you.

She hums again, pleased this time, and sits down in the living room of Javi's little house to wait. She has work she can do on her laptop in the meantime and sends a text off to the production assistant in charge of corralling the creative team for the movie, confirming that Javi will be there. Now she just needs to find out who this girl is.

Towel wrapped around his waist; he hurries into the bedroom closet to pick out an outfit. Wanting to strike the right chord and look good when he arrives.

Sherry only has to hurry him along once, and he's tucked into the studio car right on time and sent off to Santa Barbara. She doesn't have to babysit him there, she knows he'll do his work, but it's good that she stayed long enough to get him in the car. A day of work and whatever girl is in that house will do Javi a world of good.

In the car, Javi fiddles with his phone, triple checking the time and discreetly turning on the camera to check his appearance. He had made sure not to put on too much cologne, but he had completely forgot to check his hair. Even if it is shorter than he had worn it before.

He fidgets all the way to the museum, and the anticipation settles over him like the buzz of electricity threatening to shock him at any moment. The first thing he does when he walks in the front door is look to the front desk, but it isn't who he's looking for. He vaguely recognizes the young woman though, and flounders for a moment to remember her name. It's the girl who had been with you that night just before Christmas. The one who suggested you take your break with him.

“Hi.” He flashes smile at the woman. “I’m—”

“I’m so sorry sir.” Moira hates that the mystery man who managed to make you float on air arrived today of all days. “The house is closed for a private event.” She tilts her head sympathetically and walks around the desk to usher him outside.

“No, I just wished to see—”

“We will we be closed for the next four months.” She has dealt with difficult people all day. Insisting their little tour wouldn’t interrupt anything and she doesn’t want to have to tell you this guy ended up being a jackass.

“No, you don’t understand—”

“Javi!” He spins around when his name is called from deeper inside the house, turning to see the producer of the film, smiling broadly as he rushes forward.

“Scott.” He’s grateful that the other man had shown up when he did, about to be booted out on his ass by the girl.

"Javi?" Moira quickly moves back to the desk to look at the clipboard that she was given by the producer now striding into the foyer. Glancing down and down it, her jaw drops open a little before she lights up with glee. "Javier Gutierrez?" She asks, looking up at the producer.

"Our writer." Scott affirms. "We almost started without you, Jav. C'mon in. We're all in the ballroom."

“Sorry.” He ducks his head in apology and his eyes shift over to Moira. He nods quickly, not wanting her to think he was upset with her before he follows Scott. “The traffic was heavier than the driver anticipated.” He explains as they walk down the hall.

"Not to worry. But it's good you're here. You know how changes go." Scott hustles them along a hallway and through the open pocket doors into a ballroom that would fit an entire Olympic swimming pool. There are tables set up on one end so the cast can all face each other during the read, with extra seats for key members of the production team. On the other end of the ballroom, two production assistants are setting up a makeshift catering table with someone sitting in a chair at the far end.

He doesn’t feel nervous when he sees the famous faces that will be bringing the script to life. He smiles and waves to each one of them, happy that such a talented group has been chosen by the production team and the director. It’s going to be amazing, he can feel it. No, he gets nervous when he sees you sitting in a chair away from the tables, looking just as shocked to see him. Freezing for a second before he gives the most awkward wave of his life and wants to kick himself for being so ridiculous.

OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod—

You almost short circuit, sitting there in that chair with your legs crossed and a book in your lap. Your jaw drops open in surprise while the rest of you lights up, returning his sweet, shy wave with a little one of your own.

Somehow you hadn’t even considered the possibility that a writer would be on set for the filming of their movie, although in retrospect of course they would. You’re just so stunned that it’s him that you can barely think.

She’s here. That’s the thought that flutters through his mind until Scott touches his arm and breaks the spell that seems to have possessed him. Pointing him to a chair and he sits down, twisting his head to look back at you one more time to confirm that it’s you and not his overactive imagination playing tricks on him.

He catches you looking and you don’t even have the presence of mind to do anything but be mildly embarrassed and giddy that he’s actually here. That for the next four months, the chances of seeing him aren’t just increased but high. Is it a silly crush? Absolutely. But there’s nothing wrong with that in the least.

Javi tries to focus, but he catches himself wondering if you are listening. If you are happy that he will be here for the next four months.

He barely manages to mark comments during the read. His mind is forty feet in back of him sitting next to that folding table. It’s wrapped up in the navy blue dress and brown leather riding-style boots you have on today. He is utterly distracted beyond repair.

When the reading is finished with there is chatter at the table, a speech from the director, another from a different producer, and then one from the museum’s head curator.

You manage to hear most of what your boss says, straining a little only at times because of the size of the room, but the acoustics are good enough. She’s telling the cast and production crew that they’re going to be split into three groups to be led around the house by herself and the two docents here today. And then she excuses herself to bring Moira in while the whole cast breaks for something to eat before their tours.

Immediately Javi turns towards you and makes a beeline towards the chair where you are sitting. Or were sitting, now standing up and brushing down the front of your dress in an adorably nervous way. “Hi.” He rushes out when he gets within three feet of you.

“Hi.” The answering chirp is just as bright and excited as his is. You can’t help it. “I—I had no idea you’d be here.”

“I- I wrote the movie.” He’s not bragging, not really. He’s just stumbling for something to say without sounding like an idiot. “My agent, she insists that I be involved with the production. So that I can keep creative influence over the final product.” The success of the three movies he’s written so far has all but guaranteed that he gets what he asks for and she makes sure he does.

“You wrote a movie that takes place here?” Obviously he did, but you’re still stunned enough to be fumbled to connect all of the dots necessary to sound like an intelligent person. “Is that…I mean…it has to be, doesn’t it? Why you came back to visit the house? It really spoke to you.”

“That’s part of it.” Not all of it of course. The house is beautiful and did spark his interests, but that’s not the entire reason he kept coming back.

“Only part?” You can’t help feel yourself hoping. That dangerous, seductive, riotous feeling that takes wing in the hollow of your chest. That part of you dreams he’s thought about you a mere fraction as much as you’ve thought about him.

“I came back several other times.” He admits bashfully. “You were not here, I must assume you were off.”

“You…looked for me?” And just like that, hope’s wings unfurl into something so bold and beautiful that you almost erupt into disbelieving, giddy giggles.

“I liked our conversations.” He’s worried that it might have been improper until you start beaming at him. Making him smile in response.

“I did too.” It’s a terrible understatement, but it’s true.

“You did?” He brightens slightly, licking his bottom lip nervously. “I was worried that I was bothering you.” He admits with a laugh.

“Not at all.” In fact, the warmth in your cheeks at that simple confession runs all the way down your neck and blossoms in your chest. “I was afraid that I was bothering you.”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head vigorously. “I was disappointed to learn I couldn’t have a one-on-one tour.” He admits. “I asked once, when you were off, hoping to get you and you weren’t there anyway.” He can’t help but laugh at himself for that and shrugs.

“I’m certain we could manage one during filming, though things will be moved around. Our furniture and collections items are going into storage starting tomorrow.” It will be a very busy work day for your conservation and collections staff along with the moving company that has been hired, but the docents have the weekend off. You’ve planned a very busy weekend of sitting around and doing nothing at all.

He moves towards the tables that are ladened down with food and picks up a plate to hand to you. “I know, but the furniture will be replicas of the original furniture.” He had been specific about certain pieces in the script. “The set designer loved the originals.”

“Really?” Surely that must have cost a fortune, and it shocks you that he would have gone through so much work. “Is that why they want the cast and crew to see the set up of the house today?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I gave a specific tone for this movie.” He admits, smiling as he reaches for a mini croissant chicken salad. “Do you like these?” He offers, holding it out to you. “Craft services is really good.”

“I love chicken salad. Thank you.” Not to mention you’ll try just about anything once, but he’s hit on a favorite immediately. He sets two of the small sandwiches on your plate beside the scone you had already selected. “So you…write the film after visiting? Or did the house happen to fit the story that you wanted to tell?”

“I was starting the script.” He admits. “I was stuck on how I wanted it to be set and the house was mentioned. So I decided to come see it.” He chooses a little egg tart and hums. “That first visit is where you talked about the mosaic tiles. I knew then I wanted the movie set here.”

“Because of the tiles?” You ask, amused at the thought. He had been so entranced by the detail that you almost aren’t surprised.

“It’s is so specific.” He defends. “That had to be a decision that was made by the owners, the designers. I can’t imagine the builder caring if the tiles were the same marble.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” you remind him with a gentle laugh. “I wish the family had kept more records about the design choices, but how could Mrs. Hollingsworth have known her house would become a museum?”

“It would be interesting to see.” He agrees, scooping some of the seafood salad onto his plate.

“The great-grandchildren, the ones that are still living, are notoriously hands off.” You explain as you go down the line together, filling your plates with all of the delicious looking offerings that catering has provided. “And their children have no connection to the house whatsoever. So whatever information we’re ever going to have…we pretty much already have it.”

“That’s sad.” He frowns slightly, remember his own big beautiful house that would be forgotten. It had been seized by the police when Lucas has been arrested.

“Perhaps we’ll do some digging in the archives one day or find something new in a trap door of the attic.” You hope you will, anyway. The more information the better. “Who knows?”

The two of you make your way through the line to the drinks and he picks up a strawberry lime soda. “Do you want to talk while we eat?” He asks. “Or do you have to meet with your boss?”

“No, I—I’d rather stay and talk to you.” It seems like a very forward thing to say, but you pick out a can of sparkling lemonade from the cooler and practically beam. “My boss will let me know who is in my tour group after lunch.”

“Then we should sit down.” He guides you over to table to sit, finding the leads of the film already sitting.

Sitting down to a casual lunch with movie stars was not something you had on your Bingo card for your life. Not really. Living in Southern California didn’t guarantee a damn thing and you certainly haven’t done any kind of acting since high school drama club. The best you can do is a polite if awkward smile as you sit down in the chair that is being held out for you and hope that small talk trends toward the house. That you can talk about.

“Javi, I am sooooo thrilled to work on this.” The lead actress, Tamara Wilson, has an impressive range from what he has seen in the audition clips. “The script is amazing.”

He sits down and ducks his head slightly. “Thank you.”

“It’s such character-focused story telling.” The younger of the two male leads, Jason Grant, is a relative newcomer but fought to get this role and he’s excited for it. “The research you did is incredible.”

He chuckles. “It was interesting.” He shoots you a glance. “The house is part of the focus of the film.” He explains since you haven’t read the script. “A character on her own.”

“She’s a very worthy to house to include.” A glowing part of you warms from the toes up at the idea that any of this might be because you talked to him about the house, and you don’t mind admitting that to yourself at all. “I’ll do my very best, we all will, to answer any question you all have about the house and the family here. I know the family in your movie will be different, but we’ll do so glad to answer any questions we possibly can.”

“Are there any secret passages?” Tamara asks, leaning in with the gleam of excitement in her eyes.

“Several.” You assure her with a grin. “I’ll show you when we walk around. The staff made their way through the house invisibly to make it like the place operated by magic alone.”

“That is amazing.” She gushes, looking around to try to figure out where an opening would be in this room. “Imagine the secrets they must have overheard.”

"Any time someone in a costume drama jokes that 'the maids know everything', it's not really a joke." Eating as you chat makes it feel slightly less daunting, especially with Javier sitting beside you looking like he's hanging on your every word. "Domestic staff knew everything about the people they worked for. And were usually privy to secrets that the family were keeping from each other, on top of it all."

“So you would want to make sure your staff was loyal to you.” She nods seriously and looks over past Jason to Alexander as he joins the four of you at the table. “Or in this case - you.” She snorts and rolls her eyes playfully.

"Me?" Alex points to himself, eyebrows raised, and sets his plate down beside the binder holding his script. "What did I do?"

Alex is objectively beautiful, even Javier can admit that as he glances over at the man that magazines call a ‘heartthrob’. It is rumored that he will be the next year’s Sexiest Man Alive and better yet, he’s a beautiful soul. Jason chuckles. “You have to make sure all the staff are loyal to you.” He explains and points at you. “Starting with her.”

"Oh," you fluster, clearing your throat gently and looking unintentionally bashful. "I'm afraid my loyalties are already spoken for. No hard feelings, gentlemen." It's a ludicrous thing to say to one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood and a tv actor you've swooned over with Moira, but...it's true. And there's just no way to deny it.

“Well, damn.” Even though he’s just now getting involved with the conversation, Alex is nothing if not willing to tease and joke around with his casemates. “Way to break a man’s heart before introductions.” He reaches out his hand. “Alex Powell.” He introduces himself, giving that characteristic smile that has ladies normally swooning. “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Mr. Powell -- and it's very nice to meet you by the way -- I'm afraid not." You can think of at least a half dozen friends off the top of your head who would be screaming to shake Alexander Powell's hand right now, but you find yourself oddly impartial to him in this moment. Obviously he's handsome, but the man sitting to your right, with his gorgeous curls and bright brown eyes, has already laid every possible claim over your affections.

“Damn.” His eyes slide to your side and he notices the way Javi Gutierrez, the entire reason he signed on to the project, looks downright relieved at your answer. “Then you and I are going to be friends.” He decides, sending you a wink.

******

When the lunch break finishes, everyone clears away their dishes into the bins provided by the catering staff, and the museum's head curator steps up to the front of the group. "We'll split into three tour groups," she announces pleasantly, her characteristic smile broad across her face. "Group A will be the technical crew and production assistants. Group B will be the costumers, hair and make-up department, and Second Team actors. Group C will be First Team actors and production crew."

She looks out on the sea of assembled people, as the crew that were not on site for the read through all arrived during lunch time. "Group A will be with me, Group B with our docent Moira," she points to the north side of the ballroom and Moira waves. And then Leslie points in your direction, telling Group C that they will be taking their tour with you.

Javi lights up, hoping that he would be put with you, although he never would have protested. Whatever is happening between you both is fragile and this is your job. Calling attention to your boss is never a good thing, at least he would never willingly admit anything to Lucas before. Protecting that glowing feeling in his chest as he steps towards you.

"We keep getting lucky," you murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear as you smother a smile.

“I wonder if your boss decided to do that on purpose.” Biting his lip, he glances over at the older woman. “She is the one I spoke to about a private tour.”

“Maybe.” But you can’t say you mind. Not even a little bit. “Leslie is incredibly sweet. I can see her doing that. She’ll always do what she can to make people happy.”

“It won’t make you uncomfortable for me to be on the tour?” He doesn’t think that it will make you feel that way, but he wants to be sure. He knows he can be a little….intense at times.

“Why would I be uncomfortable with that?” If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d be a little jealous if he went on someone else’s tour. It’s just the crush talking, surely, but you feel connected to him. Like he would just wander away carrying a piece of you if he went with anyone else.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and grins as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I am being too bold?” He offers. “I can be over eager sometimes.”

"To be fair..." Having him talk of being bold makes you feel the same way. "You haven't actually said anything forward at all."

He realizes that you are right, but the way you say it makes his smile widen, reaching his eyes. “Perhaps you would like me to?” He asks, only to have Scott come up and clap him on the back.

“Tour time!” He grunts happily. “Javi, make sure to point out to Alex and Tamara where their clandestine scenes will be.”

You don't know the man from a hole in the wall but you are instantly frustrated with this producer. His timing was perfectly horrible and you nearly deflate at not being able to answer Javier right away. The best you can do right now is catch his eye as the group starts to assemble around you and mouth, 'Yes' with a nod of your head. Yes, you absolutely do want him to be bold. To make a move. To actually like you as much as you like him.

Javi tucks his hands deeper into his pockets and hangs back slightly so he can have a moment to celebrate. He hurries to catch up and is eager to hear everything you have to say.

All three tours start in different areas of the house. You walk the cast and main production crew through each room, talking to them about the architecture of the house, the use of each room, and the family that lived here. You show them the servant’s passages and answer as many questions as they have about the everyday workings of big houses and upper class families and large domestic staffs of the Gilded Age.

At one point, Tamara laughs in disbelief at the sheer breadth of the knowledge you have accumulated. “How did you get to be such an expert?” She asks, genuinely interested as she pokes around the dressing room attached to Mrs. Hollingworth’s bedroom on the second floor.

“They say it takes ten thousand hours to be an expert in something,” you shrug your shoulders. “I ended up studying history in college, put my focus on domestic history and the culture of families in the Victorian and Gilded eras, and then I’ve worked in house museums. So…maybe five years ago? Would be when those ten thousand hours were fulfilled?”

“Wow.” Javi is suitably impressed. “That is amazing. I think that I have only become an expert in movies.” He snorts. “Watching them, not making them. Not yet.”

“Do we have an on set historical consultant?” Alex asks Scott, turning to the producer with a flourish of his hands in your direction. “I mean we have one, but can we make her official?”

Javi nods in agreement when Scott glances towards him. “It would be good to have her on set. Help them with any needed facts and I could use her for potential re-writes.”

“Oh, I couldn’t— I—”

“Done.” Scott nods. “Save me having to hunt down resources for you, so I’m all for it.” He gives you the same too-pleased smirk and insincere wink that you’ve seen him give nearly everyone else. “Welcome to Hollywood, kid.”

Alex chuckles, moving over to you and slinging his arm around your shoulder. "Buckle up." He warns, jostling you playfully. "We will pick your brain clean. I want to make sure we get this on the radar for awards."

“Oh, but that…that’s down to all of you. Not to me.” Your mind is spinning but not at all in a bad way. It all feels like the most fantastic dream. “You’re going to help.” Tamara promises, confident and bubbling over with excitement. “And when we get those red carpet invitations, one of us will bring you as our date. You’ll have a blast.”

Javi's eyes widen, surprised by the idea coming from the lead actress but he doesn't deny that. Hoping that he wouldn't have to watch you walk the carpet with someone else. That would be his luck.

“That’s a very generous offer.” One that flusters you immeasurably, and you shuffle your booted feet in place. “I’m very excited to help, just nervous. That’s all.”

“Don’t be nervous.” Jason huffs, smiling at you and tugging Tamara close to his side. They have previous worked together on a small project and are happy to be reunited again. “We are just as normal as you are. We just have a job that is….public.” He chuckles.

“Let’s take a little break before we talk about Monday’s scenes.” Always working, Scott wipes his hands on each other and looks around. “Coffee.” He decides, heading off toward the catering table.

"Javier, I have a few questions about the script." Tamara poses, tilting her head as she looks towards Javi. "Would you mind chatting about it for a few minutes?"

His eyes float to you hesitantly, but you just smile. “I need to check in with my boss and let her know about the…the very generous consultant offer. Come and find me when you’re done?”

"I will." He nods, not even noticing the raised brows and shared smiles the actors share. Both of you are laying claim to each other and it's honestly interesting to watch.

Your heart is pounding as you make your way back over to Leslie and Moira, feeling like you're about to deliver terrible news when it probably won't change much of anything. Several of the other docents had taken the spring off rather than work on the movie set, and the ones who did want to be there for the film had had to fight for shifts.

"So how did your tour go?" Leslie asks, a small smirking smacks of smugness on her face. She had wondered if the writer of the script had a little crush on you when she finally put two and two together today. He was the same man who had been obviously looking for you when he asked about a personalized tour, describing you to a T.

"It was good." If you were glowing any more, you would be a lamppost. You're sure of that. But you can't help it in the least. "It was really great. Everyone is super nice."

"Especially your writer?" Moira asks with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.

"What is his name?" Leslie asks, wondering if the two of you had actually had a conversation that is more than just longing glances and flirtatious banter. Both of you seem smitten, almost like you are soulmates.

"Javier." Even saying his name lights you up a little more, but you correct yourself a moment later. "Javi."

"Javi." She hums, nodding. "He looks like a Javi." She admits with a grin. "I didn't know if you had a stalker when he came in a few months ago and asked for you. Didn't know your name, but described you."

"We hadn't gone so far as to exchange names until today," you admit, practically biting your lip to keep your grin from growing even wider. "We had met twice before. He came in several times when he was writing the film, apparently."

"I knew that he had come in several times. I remember seeing him. Honestly? I was hoping he wasn't creepy, especially when I thought he kept coming back to look for you. I didn't let you know in case. I didn't let him know your schedule." In hindsight, she should have told you, but she is kind of a momma bear towards her docents. Protective.

"We appreciate that you take care of us, believe me." From time to time there are creepy guests who make the docents and other staff uncomfortable, so it's good that Leslie always keeps an eye out. The well-dressed Midwestern blonde looks unassuming but packs a wallop when she's displeased. "But Javi is very sweet. He's..." A dreamy sigh settles in your chest and you break out laughing. "I'm horribly smitten, guys. I'm sorry. I can't even pretend otherwise."

Moira's brows shoot up. "I knew you had a crush, but this— giirrrrrrl." She tilts her head. "You're acting like that man is your soulmate."

"Oh no." Another laugh escapes you, but this one isn't as big or full. "I don't think I could get that lucky."

“You don’t?” She scoffs doubtfully but she doesn’t press. Even if you don’t have shared scars with this man, it’s the most interested you’ve been with anyone in a long time. “Although I’m really fucking jealous that you got to breathe the same air as Alex Powell.”

"Actually, um...come to that." Looking apologetically between Moira and Leslie, you face your boss with the bravest and most simultaneously plaintive expression you can muster. "The production team has...invited me to fill a position." One which you can't understand why Leslie herself isn't filling, but maybe they asked her and she had to say no to...you know...run the museum. "They've asked me to be their on set historical consultant."

Leslie bites her lip, honestly amused that you are looking surprised by that offer. You are one of the most knowledgeable docents she has, probably that she’s ever had. “What do you think about that?” She asks seriously. “That could mean wildly different working hours.” She reminds you. “There’s going to be a lot of night filming.”

"I don't mind a change of hours. I mean...when am I ever going to get another chance to be on a movie set?" Still, you're twisting your fingers around each other nervously and wringing your hands. "I'd like to accept, if it's alright with you? I mean, you're my boss and in no way do I want to leave the museum. Tours are on hiatus until filming is finished anyhow, and if I take a leave of absence then you could give more docents hours being set supervisors." It was the job of the docents on set to watch over the house and protect it during filming. To basically be bodyguards for the house and always keep a watchful eye on things.

“I think that you would still be able to keep your hours here.” She says after a moment. “But it wouldn’t include overtime. Just your normal work week.” She shrugs. “Have they discussed pay?”

"Not yet. I assume I'll have to meet with someone from the studio and sign whatever contract they use for consultants." Not that you have any idea what any of that will mean, but you're eager to find out.

Moira, for her part, grins and hugs you to her side. "Fancy job and a fancy guy. Look at you!"

“That means that I will need you to step up as head docent.” Leslie reminds Moira with a smile. “Do you have any problem with that?”

“I will do my best to live up to it.” Moira agrees, though she knows she doesn’t have as much experience as you. Though she has worked at Hazelwood longer, you’ve been in museum work in general for more time and have a stronger academic background than she does. But she also knows that if Leslie thinks she can do it, then she shouldn’t be second guessing her own abilities.

"You will do wonderfully." She has faith in that, although she knows that she will also be around. She's protective of the house and interested in the movie that is being filmed here.

“It sounds like we’re all going to have a hell of a spring and summer on our hands.” You observe, eliciting laughs from the other two women.

Javi is discussing the script with Tamara and Scott when you walk back over. Listening to the actress seriously and contemplating her ideas. “Why don’t I write the pages, and you can see if it fits the character?” He asks, willing to take the changes and see. “Run through both and see which one you like better?” That is directed towards Scott, who knows what the director is looking for.

“If we can get it done over the weekend, we’ll test it.” Scott agrees. “Sally will be in tomorrow, she had one more producers she was meeting with today.” He checks his watch, checks his phone, and in the process of moving around spots you. “Do I need to talk to your boss for you?” He asks, seeing that you look nervous.

“Oh! No. It’s all set. Whatever contract you need me to sign, I’ll look over when it’s ready. But Leslie has no problem with the arrangement.”

“Good.” Javi knows the production will be fair. One of the reasons he was excited to work with this studio is because they have a good reputation.

“Good.” Scott agrees, clapping you in the shoulder and going off in the opposite direction.

Javi sees the confusion on your face and laughs. "Don't worry." He assures you. "There will be a contract brought around to you. It will be fair."

Javi is sitting beside Tamara, one leg crossed over the other and looking like the most relaxed and picturesque god of a man you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s not the contract that has you confused in this moment, it’s wondering how you got so lucky that he could actually be interested in you.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Tamara offers, flashing you a wink and a grin as she gets up to scoot away.

Javi smiles happily as you slide into the seat that Tamara vacates. Happy that you are going to be on set for the duration. He knows that he will be here too, already asking if he could have a space to set up his equipment instead of working from home like he had originally anticipated. "Are you happy to be asked to work on the movie?" He asks curiously. "You will be listed in the credits."

“It’s all a little surreal,” you admit, perched on the edge of the chair like you’re afraid it might get swept out from under you at any second. “I always dreamed about working in Hollywood. I mean who doesn’t at some point? But I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Honestly? Same.” He laughs quietly. “I had dreams, but with my family….” He frowns slightly and shrugs it off. “It was not possible until a few years ago. I was just obsessed with film. Movies. The magic and wonder of it all.”

“I’m sorry your family wasn’t supportive.” You shift in your seat to face him better and feel your heart leap up into your throat almost instantly. You could have sworn you saw the flicker of something above the line of his loafer but it can’t be.

He’s always uncomfortable when talking about his family. Shifting slightly in his seat and moving his ankle to rest on his knee. “That is the past.” He offers with a small smile. “I look towards the future.”

“I—I’m—I’m really sorry, but…” With your pulse pounding blood so loudly in your ears that it has drowned out your thoughts. “Your ankle—?” Clear as day now, the vertical scar on the inside of his ankle that curves ever so slightly at the top like a Shepard’s crook is exposed for anyone to see.

It can’t be. Can it?

He frowns for a second before he follows your eyes to his leg and he nods. “Oh.” It’s an old scar, not red or angry. Just a silvery distortion of his skin. “Old injury.” He explains. “I fell out of an olive tree when I was younger.” He was pushed out, by Lucas, but he doesn’t talk about that. “The old iron fencing around the base wasn’t kind.” He adds, lifting his pant leg so you can see it properly.

The strangled sort of hiccupping sound you make is barely smothered by your hand flying to your lips, but the water rising up in your eyes can't be disguised. "A-and...and...how long ago was that?" It's impossible, and yet here it is right in front of you. A mark you know as well as you know any other shape in the world.

Javi told his head curiously, surprised by your reaction to his scar. “About twenty years ago.” He murmurs cautiously. “I was old enough to know better. Why?”

"I—" You could explain. You could. But words have utterly failed you in this moment. This moment that has you reaching to unzip your right boot and pull your sock away from your ankle to expose the very same shepherd’s crook scar on your own skin.

Javi’s confused smile quickly slides into a frown. Tugging his lips down as his eyes widen. Shock making his mouth hang open and he slides out of his seat to his knees in front of your leg. Looking up at you for a moment to confirm you aren’t playing a prank on him. Then looking down and slowly reaching for your ankle to rub his thumb over the scar that matches his. He doesn’t care about the short, stubbly leg hair where you obviously haven’t shaved in a few days. Too entranced by the rippled skin that is smoother than his own since your skin wasn’t ripped open but matches his in every way. “You-“ His eyes light up and he exhales roughly. “You are my soulmate.”

"Do you..." Dry sobs stick in your throat, but the ecstatic warmth of his touch to your skin is its own answer. "Do you...have a tattoo of a blue morpho butterfly on your ribcage?"

He lets go of your ankle and starts to pull his button up shirt out of the waistband of his pants. Pulling it up to expose his right side. The perfect little butterfly at the top of his ribcage showing against his skin.

The whole rest of the room has gone silent around you, but neither you or Javi has noticed in the least. The whole rest of the world might have ceased to exist and you would never have known the difference. "This is unbelievable..." you breathe, reaching out to touch his skin with the same reverence and gentle care than he caressed your ankle.

“You- you - when did you get this?” He asks seriously, voice barely above a whisper.

"Eight years ago." Please let it be true, please let it be true...

He nods, his smile starting to stretch his face. “May, right?”

"Right." All at once the water spills over, two tears streaking down your cheeks. "Oh my god..."

“I cannot believe it.” He gasps, reaching for your cheek and wiping away your tears before he frowns. “Unless….you don’t like that?” He asks, wondering why you are crying.

"Like it?" A disbelieving laugh blows the entire thought away and you take his hand in yours. "I'm overjoyed."

“Fantastic.” He allows himself to be happy. To show it on his face and he beams. “That’s fantastic.”

“Can I…” It all sort of washes over you in a wave of too many things to parcel them all out from each other. “Can I…Give you a hug or something? I don’t even know what comes next. I just…I can’t believe it.”

“I want to kiss you.” He confesses. Now understanding why he was so drawn to you. You were like the flame to his moth. He couldn’t resist your pull.

"Thank god," you almost burst out laughing, barely containing the sound. "I wasn't sure if that was too much to ask for."

It’s like a scene in a movie, you are still laughing as he cups your head in his hands and lunges forward. Kissing you with joy and elation, groaning immediately when your lips touch his.

It isn't as though you've never been kissed. Kissed well, even. But this leaves every other good kiss so far behind that the trail of dust would stretch for miles. The warmth and welcome of him is all consuming, to the point that you nearly slide out of your seat just to get closer to him and sink farther into the kiss.

He loses all concept of time, of space, as he kisses you. Everything has faded into the background or completely disappears. Wondering at how right this feels.

It’s only when you come out of it — breaking the kiss for air and barely open your eyes to be able to look your soulmate in the face again — that you realize that everyone else in the room has erupted into whistles, cheers, and applause.

Javi starts to blush, looking around the room sheepishly and then back at you. Starting to giggle and he leans in to kiss you again. “My soulmate.”

"My soulmate." The word sounds so incredible breathed against his lips.

“Let’s get married.” Javi blurts out impulsively, grinning at you.

The rush of your heartbeat rockets through the roof, but you cling to him and some sort of ecstatic, nearly crazed laugh crosses your lips. "Yes." No hesitation. No worries. No second guessing. Just the absolute certainty that this is meant to be.

“Yes?” He is almost in disbelief and then you nod, cupping his face and kissing him back. “Yes!” He shouts and leaps up to drag you up and spin you around the room. “We are getting married!”

Gasps and more applause are the least of it, as it seems that everyone in the ballroom crushes in around the both of you in a flurry of excitement. Questions come from all angles, but you can barely hear them. can barely process any of it. It's a whole world just swirling around you when all that matters is him.

It’s only the sound of others cheering that brings him back down to reality. Making him turn and look at the cast, crew and production team clapping and grinning. He gives an embarrassed chuckle and turns back to you, his forehead pressed against yours. “We have made a scene.” He hums, smiling.

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, still giggling softly in his arms. “Not at all.”

“You don’t?” That makes him chuckle happily. “That’s good.”

Moira and Leslie are practically in giggling tears to your left, ready to swoop in and hug you into oblivion and Tamara looks like she’s ready to cry too.

“What?” She huffs when Jason prods her. “It’s so romantic!”

“Romantic, yes.” He rolls his eyes, “but what are we going to doooooo about it?” He’s secretly a big softie. “That means the walk through is done for the day. They are going to go get married.”

“So? I don’t mind ending early so soulmates can go get married.” In fact she’s positively gooey over the idea for about three seconds until she remembers herself. “Oh! Oh!! I can marry you!” Tamara crows, all but clapping with joy. “If you want me to, I mean! I got certified last year for my cousin.”

“Now that is an idea.” Leslie agrees with a growing smile. “We have almost everything we need right here.”

Javi knows that he would give you anything when you turn those wide, hopeful eyes on him. “Do you want to get married here?” He asks. “I don’t mind.”

“Is that okay with you?” If you’re being honest, you’ve dreamt of having your wedding here for just as long as you’ve worked at Hazelwood, but you would understand if he had something else in mind. “It’s fitting, really, isn’t it? Since we met here.”

"It is perfect." He would do anything to keep that look of absolute happiness on your face. "It will be part of our story, woven into the fabric of our lives."

“Do you really want to do it now?” The idea is so wonderfully romantic that you almost sigh. “Like tonight?”

His eyes shift back towards Leslie. "Can we make it happen?" He asks her. "Small, beautiful. Involving anyone and everyone who wants to participate?" He knows he doesn't have family and you've not mentioned any, so it is almost fitting that your friends and work family be involved. The cast and crew almost look giddy at the idea of contributing.

“Absolutely.” She kinds around at all the eager faces. “We have plenty of hands to help. You two go and get yourselves ready. Whatever you two need personally. We’ll take care of food, music, decorations, and everything else.” Your boss glances at her watch and flashes you a smile. It’s just the middle of the afternoon now, giving everyone plenty of time. “How does a seven o’clock wedding sound?”

“Does that work?” He asks you, not sure what you would want to happen before this wedding. “I will need to get you rings.”

“You need a ring too,” you remind him, with that glowing smile still in tact on your face. “We would need to find a boutique, I guess? It’s not like I have a wedding dress hanging around in my closet.” Some girls do. Dresses passed down from generation to generation. You’re not that lucky, unfortunately, and even if you were in better terms with your family…they’re all on the east coast anyway.

“A dress, yes, yes.” He nods enthusiastically and then he frowns. “I- the studio car brought me.” He looks over at Scott, who grins. “I think we can make some arrangements.” He offers, walking over with the director. “What do you think about filming some of this? Obviously we wouldn’t announce it now, but think of the press when the film is being released!” He practically has hearts in his eyes over the prospect.

The thought almost stuns you, but within seconds you’re shrugging your shoulders and looking up at Javi. “I don’t mind, if you don’t. It would be nice to have footage of the wedding.” Of marrying your soulmate.

“Javi?” His brows raise as he looks over at him. “Imagine the press junket. The curiosity ticket sales. People will flock to watch a movie that brought soulmates together.” Javi chuckles and nods. “Fine, but we get a copy of all of the film and we approve when it’s released and what is shown.”

“Deal.” Scott offers his hand to seal it, and is practically giddy when Javi shakes it.

“Do you have anyone you want to call?” You ask him quietly. “A friend you would want to stand up for you? Or family nearby?”

“I do have some friends.” He admits with a grin. “What about you?”

“She’s already here.” And standing maybe four feet away, at that. You look over to Moira with a grin. “You’re up for being a whirlwind maid of honor, right?”

“Of course!” Moira squeals and Alex grins as he slides up beside you.

“Why don’t you let me walk you down the aisle?” His eyes are serious, even when his tone and grin are silly. “It would be an honor to serve.”

Matching his playfully nonchalant expression, you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not sure. “I dunno, my man. That’s a big ask. I’m gonna expect you to have my back and be ready to step up when shit hits the fan. That sound doable?” The fact is, you don’t really know how your Mom would feel if she were here, or your brother, and your father died when you were just a teenager. So an offer from a new friend is as good as any other you’re going to get.

His brows pull together and he purses his lips seriously. “Absolutely.” He huffs, nodding. “I’m here for at the fan hitting shit.”

“Then I guess we’re gonna go for a walk together tonight.” It’s just about the most casual way you could ever decide such an important thing, but there is something almost brotherly about the way he’s warmed up to you. Once he knew you weren’t going to fall at his feet, he seemed to instantly decide you are his friend.

“Awesome.” He perks up and throws his arm around you. “I’ve got a suit in my car.” He winks at Javi playfully. “Never know when I’m going to meet my soulmate.” He jokes, knowing full well it’s just that he had picked up his dry cleaning and his agent always wants him to have dress clothes on hand in case. Just in case.

“For your sake, I hope they turn out to be a very energetic person,” you tease, but being your attention back to Javi quickly. “We have a lot to do in just as couple of hours.”

“You two go, get all the stuff you need and we will be waiting.” Alex unwraps his arm from around you as Jason comes up and shrugs. “While I can’t do much – what’s your favorite flowers?” He asks.

Flowers sounds like a hell of a lot to you, and you look to Javi for confirmation. "I don't mind what they are, but I think they should be white. Right?"

“Whatever color you want.” Javi tells you indulgently. “It doesn’t have to be white.”

"Really?" That surprises you, and you feel like you have to check with him before you actually give a real answer.

“Do you want the flowers to be white?” He asks, frowning slightly as he wonders if he has misspoken. “It is beautiful. But colors are beautiful as well if you want a bright arrangement.”

"I actually really like Gerber Daisies..." A flower you were always told was childish and unserious. How can a flower have a maturity level? "The big, colorful ones? I think they're beautiful."

“Then you should have Gerber Daisies.” He can’t call them to mind right away, but he is sure they are stunning. “Jason?” He looks over to him. “Can you find her the most beautiful Gerber daisies?”

"On it." He promises. It's not a well-known fact, since little about him is well known at all, but he grew up in and around his parents' florist business. He can definitely do a daisy wedding bouquet. "It'll be beautiful."

“Does that work for you?” Javi asks as he looks back at you in complete adoration.

"Absolutely." Honestly, the fact that everyone is pitching in so quickly and willingly is magical on its own. Everything else is a beautiful bonus.

“Good.” He grasps your hands and brings them up to his lips to kiss the back of them. “Shall we go? Get what we need?”

You and Javi head out of the museum – thanking Scott for the offer of a ride, but you have your car. This is something that you want to be able to do in private, and for you that means time that is only spent between you and your soulmate.

It might not be a flashy car, but she's gotten you through thick and thin, so when you climb in beside him you let out a contented little hum. "There's a soulmate boutique in downtown. They say they have everything a couple needs but...maybe you have someplace in mind that you would rather go? It's your call." Though it calls itself a boutique, the place is more like an emporium. Couples who want to get married quickly aren't looking to run all over the place to get what they need, so it's more or less a one-stop shop for wedding wear.

“Call.” His eyes widen and he pulls out his phone. “Yes, that’s fine. I need to make a call. See if they are in L.A.” He looks over at you and grins. “My good friend. I want him to come.”

"You do that, I'll drive," you laugh, turning the key in the ignition and heading out of the museum parking lot.

“Thank you.” He quickly pulls up his contacts and selects Nick’s number. “Hopefully he isn’t filming somewhere.”

The line rings three times before it connects, and Olivia Cage's smooth, musical voice comes over the line. "Hello Javi!"

“Olivia!” He lights up when he hears her voice and he shifts in the passenger seat. “Please tell me you and Nick are in L.A.?” He begs, immediately launching into the reason for his call.

"Javi! Javi! Slow down, sweetheart." She laughs when he immediately starts talking to quickly for her to keep up with. "Nick and Addy are just watching a movie in the living room, let me hand the phone over."

There is a little commotion on the other end of the line, but after a few seconds, Nick's voice comes over loud and clear. "Javi! We're at home tonight. Did you want to get together?"

“Could you be at Hazelwood Park in Santa Barbara by seven tonight?” Javi asks Nick, beaming through the phone. “I’m getting married.”

"You're get—you're getting married?!" Nick practically shouts on the other end of the line, and you laugh beside him with equal joy. "How?" Nick breathes. "Who? And of course we'll be there!"

“Well, I think the normal way.” He huffs out a laugh and almost looks like he will tear up for a second when he looks over at you as you drive. “My soulmate, Nick. I met my soulmate today. Not today. I’ve actually met her several times before but we— she has my scar. And I have her tattoo.” He rambles, knowing Nick will follow easily, they had spent far too much time together for him not to.

"The girl with the butterfly tattoo!" Nick howls with glee. He's seen that butterfly a hundred times -- whenever they go swimming – and knows how badly Javi has wanted to meet his soulmate. The instinct to love without restriction is at the heart of who Javi is. "Absolutely. Absolutely we'll be there. How can we help?"

“Just be there!” He laughs. “We are getting our rings and a dress for her now. The house should be set by the time we get back. They are filming my movie there.” He explains. “The cast and crew are going to be there too.”

"Do you need me to swing by your place and bring you a suit?" Nick offers, knowing Javi has a few particular pieces left in his wardrobe that he dearly loves.

Javi bites his lip and looks over at you. “Do you mind?” He asks you. “I have a suit that would be perfect.”

"Just tell me which one, buddy." Nick already has a key to Javi's house and knows his alarm code, so it's just a matter of swinging by. The place may technically be unfinished, but he's spent more time there than anyone besides Javi himself.

He looks over at you. “The royal blue Armani.” He decides. “Ferragamo loafers and the Givenchy cufflinks.”

It sounds extremely fancy and extremely expensive, and you hope that this boutique has something even half as spectacular for you so you can match him. Headed down the backroads into downtown, you reach for Javi's hand as you drive and give it a squeeze.

Nick assures him that he will get everything Javi needs and he’s quickly hanging up the phone. “That’s alright, right? Royal blue?” He asks, hoping he didn’t mess up.

"It sounds beautiful," you promise him.

“Shit.” He frowns. “I forgot to tell him to get a belt.”

"Don't worry," you urge him. "If that's the only thing we forget tonight, I think we'll be in excellent shape. But if it bothers you, I'm sure we can get one at the boutique. It won't be half as nice as the rest of your suit, but it will do the trick."

“You must pick out any dress you want.” His eyes light up happily. “So they have rings there? At this boutique?”

"Supposedly there is a jewelry department, a dress one, one for suits, all of it." You glance over at him while you drive, heart fluttering when you get a look at his perfect curls and sharp jaw. "One of the other docents went there when she met her soulmate last year."

“That is good.” Javi agrees easily, reaching for your hand and wishing it was your left. That one is firmly on the steering wheel. “If you do not like the rings there, we will find one you do like.” He promises. “I want you to love your rings.”

“I’m not picky,” you assure him, steering the car through the winding streets. “It’s more important to me that they come from you than what they are. So I’m sure we’ll be able to find something we both like.”

“You should be picky.” He frowns. “I hope you are wearing them for years. Until they are upgraded.”

“The only way I’m taking one of those rings off for more than a cleaning is if it’s getting passed on to our grandchild,” you tell him with absolute certainty. Your eyes flick back to the road as you move over a lane, the enormous boutique building is coming up on the right. “But I don’t think it will be hard to find something I love.”

“Grandchild.” He whispers the word, eyes bright at the mere mention of something so fantastical that he hadn’t been able to imagine it before now.

“Too soon?” You cringe slightly, wondering if talking about a family is the line that shouldn’t be crossed yet despite the fact that this is your soulmate and you’re on your way to buy things for your wedding.

“No.” He practically yelps the word and twists in his seat to vigorously shake his head. “I want kids.” He promises. “Lots of kids. I mean- as many as you want to have.” He amends and looks nervous, like you might shut down the idea completely if he doesn’t say what you want.

Carefully turning the car into the building’s lot and putting it in park, you take both of Javi’s hands and offer him the absolute softest smile you are capable of conjuring in this moment. Who hurt this poor, sweet puppy dog of a man that he looks so afraid to talk to you?

“I want a big family too,” you promise him. “But if we ever disagree on what we want, or I get too excited and jump ahead on something that you’re not comfortable with, I need you to tell me, okay handsome? And I’ll tell you, too.”

“Yes.” He agrees quickly, relaxing because of your soft touch. It’s already soothing to him. “I have to confess…” he bites his lip. “I have had relationships before.” He confesses, hoping that you will not judge him too harshly for that.

“I have too.” A lot of people don’t. Preferring to wait for their soulmate. But you had been worried on that point. “I…didn’t want to meet you one day and know nothing.”

Something dark flashes in Javi’s eyes. Desire and want, twisted with the kind of possessiveness that springs out of love. “That’s good.” He rasps out, his tongue wetting his bottom lip.

The change in his expression is fast enough that you miss it when you glance away for just a half a second to undo your seatbelt, but you lean back over again to kiss his cheek right after. “Let’s go inside?”

“Of course.” He smiles as he nods, squeezing your hand and hating to let it go when he has to unclip his own seatbelt and get out of the car. He will have to get you a new one, right away. Missing the garage that had been full of sporty, flashy cars for a moment, he waits for you to walk around to him since he is closer to the shop door.

Your hand slips into his again with ease, and the beat that your heart skips is made up for when you both hurry inside the building, eager to start getting ready for the night.

“I have never been in a soulmate boutique.” Javi confesses as he reaches forward to open the door for you. “You will have to show me where to go.”

“I can help with that.” A friendly woman with a blonde bob at the reception desk in the front of the store waves you both over. “My name is Cindy. How can I help you today?”

“Hello, Cindy.” Javi holds your hand proudly and guides you over to the desk. “This gorgeous creature is my soulmate and we are getting married today.”

"Well, congratulations." She smiles broadly, as though that isn't a sentence she hears once at day at bare minimum. "We can help with as much or as little as you need. Everything from rings to the dress to a suit, flowers, we can even book you in at the soulmate chapel in the Arts District."

"We have a venue and flowers," you tell her, feeling like you're vibrating beside Javi as you hold his hand. "And he has a suit. We'll both need rings and I need a dress."

"We can absolutely do that for you." Emerging from behind the desk, Cindy beckons for the two of you to follow her around a corner into the belly of the boutique. "Come right this way and we'll start with rings."

“Wait.” Javi pulls short, tugging on your arm. “When you pick your dress, should I see it?” He asks seriously. “I thought Americans believe it’s bad luck?”

"Some do." Though you shrug one shoulder. "I don't mind, though. If you don't."

He blinks in surprise and then smiles, lunging forwards to kiss your lips. “Yes. I want to see.” He admits with a grin. “I want to see all the dresses you could choose and see why you pick the one you do.”

"And I want your opinion," you tell him honestly. Every time he kisses you, you feel like you're melting, so the gooey smile on your face is pretty appropriate right now. "I want to know which one you like best, too."

“I would probably say buy them all.” He chuckles. “Wear one every year on our anniversary. Which will be today.” He beams again as he realizes that.

"Valentine's Day is the day we met." The reminder is sweet, soothing the ache of every lonely Valentine's past with the thought, and the two of you walk on together easily. The jewelry section of the store is immense, with a half dozen display cases full of beautifully glinting rings in all sizes, shapes, and styles.

“There are so many.” Javi chokes out, looking around the large, very brilliantly lit display cases. Every diamond sparkles and he knows you will find something you love. “We have a variety of options and price points.” She tells you both discreetly.

"My taste is fairly simple," you promise. He did offer to pay for everything, but you have no intention of going crazy. "And it doesn't have to be a diamond. There are plenty of beautiful stones."

He looks positively offended over that. “Did you know that diamonds are only the fifth most expensive gemstone per carat?” He asks you. “What is your favorite color?”

"It sounds silly." Another shrug, but at least you don't feel silly about this saleswoman seeing the two of you getting to know each other. She must certainly see couples getting married who have known each other far less. "But I like silver a lot."

“Silver.” He frowns slightly and tilts his head. “Would you like your setting to be silver?” He asks seriously.

"It doesn't have to be so serious, Javi," you assure him, smiling softly because this man just does that to you. You feel soft around him every second. "If you like yellow gold better, your ring doesn't have to match mine."

“I just want you to have exactly what you want.” Too often he had been accused of being too cheery and now you are telling him that he’s too serious. “I want to match your ring.”

"Is white gold, or silver, or what have you...is that okay with you?"

“Any of it.” He shrugs. His pinky ring is gold, but he will be fine with that. It’s on his right hand anyway.

"Then let's take a look." There are no shortage of choices, so who knows what you'll find. But you gravitate toward the nearest case with ease.

The two of you debate size, shape, gemstones. Laughing together as Javi points out one ring that is particularly hideous and at least you can both agree on that one to be marked off the list. Javi wishes for you to have something large and flashy and you want something more subdued.

It takes quite a bit of back and forth before you at least nail down a design. Three stone rings seem to be both of your favorite, and after a little more debating back and forth, Cindy disappears to another case on the other side of the jewelry section and comes back with a few options that have impressive center stones with dainty accents. It's the style of the design that you favor with slightly larger stones like Javi prefers. "They're not the biggest stones we have," she cautions, not wanting you to feel overwhelmed. "But they are stand out in terms of cut and quality. Very eye-catching."

“What do you think?” Javi wants you to love your rings, but he also wants to make sure that no one thinks that he is a pauper. It’s egotistical, but it’s the truth.

"They're still quite big." That isn't up for debate, but Javi seems to be quite certain that the cost is not an issue, and has barely looked at price tags so far. A conversation about his net worth is going to have to happen at some point because he's very clearly in a different tax bracket than you are, but that's for later. "The pear-shaped and the princess cut are the prettiest, I think...which do you like?"

“Whichever you want.” He would have chosen the emerald cut, but he would rather you have the choice. “I promise, I will not be upset.”

"Can I try on the pear?" Trying it on makes it seem to much more real, and Cindy hands you the ring carefully from its velvet stand.

"This will work with any band that you like, the setting is nicely elevated to compliment almost any choice." She tells you, but you barely hear it. it's like magic happens as that ring slides onto your finger, and you gasp quietly under your breath.

It’s perfect. Javi stares at the ring on your finger. The shape of the ring making your hand look even more elegant. The stone is not so overpowering that it looks like you are a child playing dress up with your mother’s rings. “Sweetheart?”

"I love it..." you breathe, hardly able to believe it's so perfect, and you look up at him with watery eyes. "The same way I love hearing you call me sweetheart."

He melts. His face softening into something akin to pure wonder as he looks down at the ring on your finger and he kneels down to one knee in front of you. “This is the one?” He asks softly, holding your hand and looking up at you. “Just like you are my one?”

“It’s perfect. Like you’re perfect.” Having a deeply romantic soulmate was always something you had wished for, but the way Javi seems to wear his heart of his sleeve is so much more than you ever could have hoped for.

He surges back to his feet to press his lips to yours. Ecstatic that this is happening. His soulmate.

Cindy only smiles, waiting for the moment to be enjoyed, before she begins to bring out bands for both of you. They rang from elaborate to simple, but she has a feeling this gentleman will prefer the elaborate.

“You should have this one.” Javi points to a band that is a solid circle of Princess cut diamonds to make up the surface. “Since you liked the princess cut solitaire too.”

"It's stunning." His flare for showy rings is very apparent, but in the moment you're so swept up that you forget to care. The gorgeous rings will be well loved and well cared for and that is what matters to you. "Do you want something ornate as well? Carved, or even with a diamond of your own?"

“What about this one?” He asks, pointing to a matching men’s ring. The circle of Princess cut diamonds is surrounded by the thick white gold band on either side.

The channel-set stones wink and shimmer in the bright store lighting, as if to say that completely agree with his choice. "A matching set," you agree with a nod.

It is a beautiful ring, but anything you choose he would be happy to wear. “Then I think that we have found our rings.” He picks it up and slides it on his finger to see how it fits and practically giggles with excitement when he sees a wedding band on his hand.

"I'll box these pieces up for you." Cindy offers, but pauses before gathering up the three-stone ring. "Unless you'd prefer to present your soulmate with her engagement ring now?" She offers, looking to Javi. She can easily just remove the tag and add it to the growing total. "I can retrieve the ring in her size from the case for you."

“Yes.” Javi decides instantly, beaming at you. “I want her to wear it out of the boutique.”

"Just one moment." She thought he might feel that way, and she disappears just only long enough to polish the ring and clip off the tag before bringing it back to him in its velvet box to be presented to you however he chooses. "I'll go and let the dress department know to expect you. Just move into the next room when you're ready," she tells you both with a sunny smile.

“I wish that there was something more romantic about this.” Javi confesses. “Imagine you are at your bench, sweetheart.” He decides, grinning at you. “Waves crashing all around you and the smell of the ocean hovering.”

"It's our bench now." It had been, to you, since that day before Christmas. You had spent too much time sitting there and thinking of him. Thinking of that day. Wondering if you would ever see him again.

“Our bench.” He agrees, beaming at you again as he guides you over to a bench that is not your bench, but it will substitute just fine. “Close your eyes.” He begs when he has you sat down.

You comply without hesitation, sitting up straight on the small bench with your hands on your knees. Life with Javi seems like it will have a certain flair for the dramatic – or at least special occasions will.

He’s sinking down to a knee again. This time with tears starting to form in his own eyes. This isn’t a movie. This is real life and it seems like he is finally getting his happily ever after. Murmuring your name softly, he smiles. “You are my soulmate.” He whispers. “The other half of my very existence. I have waited and wondered and dreamed about you my entire life and now you are here.” He swallows harshly as your eyes twitch. He opens the ring box and takes your hand. “I can’t live another day without you being my wife. Marry me. Marry me and make me complete.”

His voice is slightly choked, filled with emotion, and the tears that press against the back of your own eyes just from hearing it would surely be spilling over if your eyes were opening now. But since you've been instructed to keep them shut, you lean forward with your hands out and find his broad shoulders -- the pathway that bring your hands up to cup his cheeks. "The sooner the better," you promise him, with such a broad smile that even your soft promise comes out on a giddy giggle. "Now can I open my eyes to kiss you or are you going to come to me?"

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He had halfway expected you to open them when he asked the question, not expecting you to wait for his cue. “Open your eyes sweetheart.”

They are only open for a half second. Just long enough to lean all the way over to kiss him. But it's enough. It's all you need. It's all you need to be able to embrace this moment fully (and tearfully) with your soulmate as he slides your new engagement ring onto your finger just hours before you plan on marrying.

Javi sinks into the kiss, gathering you close and sighing against your lips happily until a discreet cough breaks through the fuzzy haze of love. “Pardon me.” Cindy smiles when he looks over at him. “The girls are pulling a number of dresses for you to try on.” She tells you.

“Thank you.” You’re not going to be embarrassed at all about the kiss. Not when you feel like you’ve waited three lifetimes to find this kind of joy and anticipation for the future.

Javi rubs his thumb over the ring happily and stands, pulling you up gently. “Time to pick out your dress.”

The girls as Cindy calls them, are two very sweet young women just a touch younger than you that run the dress department in this store. One blonde and one redhead, they are surrounded by a seeming sea of plush fabrics when you and Javi walk over together.

Javi’s eyes widen and he looks around in shock at all the styles, materials, laces. It’s so much that he wouldn’t have a clue where to begin.

"I think we're both a little spoiled for choice," you tell them, feeling very much like you agree with the awestruck and overwhelmed look on Javi's face. "Where would you recommend that we start?"

The girls are quick to start bringing out dresses to get a a sense of your style and preferences so they can match you up with the perfect dress.

Several are too revealing for you taste, and some are far too complicated in their designs. You're not looking to wear architecture on your wedding night, you want to be able to move. "Is there a such thing as a traditional dress without a train?" You ask, instantly feeling like you must be the pickiest person in the world for even asking. "I—I like to dance, that's all. And trains always look silly to me when they're bustled."

“No train.” Javi can agree with that and when you give him a questioning look, he nods in agreement. “I want you to have exactly what you want.”

"Does 'traditional' mean you're looking for a larger dress?" The chipper blonde asks, looking between both you and Javi. It's clear you're making the decision together. "Like a ballgown? Something with that princess feel?"

“She is a princess.” Javi immediately jumps into the idea feet first. “Better than any Disney character mister Walt Disney could think of himself.”

He loves it so much that you don't even consider not trying one on. "Let's see what a ballgown looks like." You agree, indicating one with a sweetheart neckline and lots of intricate lace that is hanging on the back of a dressing room door.

“You don’t have to pick something you think I will like.” He promises as they start to take dresses away and rush off to pull more. “This is your dress. I want you to feel as beautiful as you are.”

"I've never worn a ballgown." You bend down to lay a kiss on his lips before getting up to go into the dressing room. "It can't hurt to find out."

“You might hate it.” He snorts in amusement. “But it does fit the theme of the house.”

"I guess we're about to find out." Flashing him a broad smile, you disappear into the dressing room to tackle that great big, beautiful dress and see how it feels. It takes several minutes of finesse and manuevering with the help of one of the girls, but when you emerge you carefully school your reaction so you can see what Javi thinks first. The big bell of the gown's skirt is lighter than you expected but it has a seriously satisfying swish and you really do feel like fairy tale royalty.

“Magnificent.” Javi murmurs in awe, freezing mid turn as he stares at you. “You look- like a princess.”

“It’s huge.” Barely able to contain a giggle as your eyes widen, the mirror in front of you contains an image you barely recognize…but in the best way possible. It’s the version of you that you used to dream about. Fairy tales and all. So when you turn to look at Javi again, you’re almost as awestruck as he is. “It’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?” He tilts his head to the side and frowns as he looks over the dress again. “What is it missing?”

“It’s…a bit large.” You laugh, swinging your hips a little so the skirt imitates a large bell. “I feel a bit like I ought to be hung in a church in this thing.”

“So a smaller version of the skirt?” He asks. “Or do you want a form fitting dress?”

“Just a small ballgown, I think?” The question really goes to the two women helping you, but they are already moving to sort through what they have brought out. One has a halter and too-low neckline. One is encrusted with beading and jewels. One has large, poofy, sheer sleeves. None of them are quite right, but you try on a simple taffeta version of the silhouette. Just plain and simple. And that is nearly perfect.

Simple is generally how you like things, and this excursion into wedding dresses seems to prove it to you, but when you go out to show Javi, you can tell right away that he feels the same way you do. There is something missing.

“What about ivory?” The dresses have been separated by color and none of the ivory dresses have been chosen. “Or do you want pure white?” He wonders if it is a faux pas or if it’s just preference.

“Ivory could be good.” For that matter, it doesn’t have to be white for you to love it. But that is the easiest option.

“I have just the one.” The round-faced redhead promises, ushering you back into the dressing room. “Not too poofy, no train, fit for a queen.”

Javi stares at the display of accessories, biting his lip as he sees a tiara and he knows he wants you to wear one. It would be perfect. His princess.

There is a great deal of rustling and laughter and excited chatter coming from the dressing room, and when you emerge you’re wearing possibly the single most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen in real life — let alone most beautiful thing you have ever worn.

The silk jacquard fabric is luxurious and detailed without being extravagant or ostentatious. The simple corset bodice and Basque waist make you look as elegant as royalty. It has a full skirt for that princess affect but it isn’t so big that it makes it difficult to move, and best of all it feels right.

“What do you think?” You ask Javi, but frankly you’re dabbing away tears and it’s obvious how much you love the dress. This is your wedding dress.

The moment he sees the softness in your eyes, he knows you’ve fallen in love with it. You look like a scene from a movie. The big reveal of the princess at the top of the stairs where everyone turns and gaps in amazement and the prince at the bottom thanks his lucky stars that you are his. Which is what Javi is doing right now. The tiara in his hand, carefully removed from the display case, seems to perfectly match and he smiles. “It’s only missing this, princesa.”

The headpiece is made up of stars like something out of a painting you once saw in a history book, and it feels like such a silly thing to bend your head so he can set it in your hair (thank goodness you’re having a good hair day!) but it feels perfect. It feels extraordinary. And standing next to him is the first time you’ve truly felt extraordinary in your entire life.

You steal his breath when he steps back and looks at you. Tears instantly forming in his eyes and his chin trembles because he is so overwhelmed that this beautiful creature is his soulmate. It’s such a pure moment that not even his anxiety or self doubt could break through the euphoria.

“I hope those are good tears,” you half-chuckle through your own.

“The best.” He manages to choke out before reaching for your hands. “This is it, no? This is the one?” He turns you so you can look in the mirror at your reflection with the tiara on.

“I think this is it.” It’s so much more than you would have thought you wanted. It’s eye-catching and irrevocably meant to be the center of attention. But with him, you somehow don’t mind so much. As if having Javi there at your side was the piece you needed to keep you grounded and safe all along

"It is perfect." He promises, honestly believing that he will look underdressed beside you. "You are perfect." He amends with an indulgent smile before he nods. "We will take it." He announces to the sales girls. "But you need shoes underneath." His eyes light up mischievously. "What about those wedding sneakers I always see in movies?"

“Sneakers?” After all the bling and excess he’s picked out, your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like…tennis shoes?”

He laughs at your surprise. "High heels hurt, no?" He asks. "Tiaras and tennis shoes, you could start a trend!"

The easy, joyous laugh you share is so sweet and so unrestrained that it has to be punctuated with another kiss. “Would you find it odd if I said I like high heels?” You ask after. “I’ve been wearing them for work and things for a long time and I don’t mind them too much anymore. And they always look so beautiful.”

"Then you must find the most beautiful high heels to go with your dress." He insists indulgently. "Do you have a favorite brand? Louboutin? Manolo Blahnik? Bottega Veneta?"

Ahha. There it is. You think, as he starts listing off designers you could never afford in your wildest dreams. “I just…get the most comfortable heels off the clearance rack at DSW.”

"Comfortable." He understands that but he huffs slightly. "Get whatever shoes you love best." He urges you. "The price doesn't matter."

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” The best you can do is appeal to the two girls, and to Cindy, who has walked up to check on you in the meantime. “The only thing is…I always thought…you know how some brides wear blue shoes as their something blue? I always liked that idea.”

“Then I have the perfect pair.” Cindy gushes. “They are a pair I have lusted after forever.”

You give her your shoe size and she disappears into the shoe department to dig up her dream heel. In just a few minutes she returns to the pair of you with two boxes in hand. “They’re a little bit iconic,” she says sheepishly, opening up the top box. “These are the Carrie Bradshaw heels. Gorgeous even without the Sex and the City reference, but that sort of makes it fun in my opinion. They come in a royal blue and a light shade of sky.”

Javi recognizes the brand and he tilts his head as she opens them up. They are both gorgeous and he wonders if you will go for the bolder blue or keep it subtle under your dress. You might not even like the shoes at all.

"They're...gorgeous." The awestruck look on your face doesn't quite match your reaction to your dress, but it certainly is one that is both impressed and surprised. "Is this sort of what you had in mind?" You ask him, looking between the two shades of blue and the soft, wide brown eyes of your soulmate.

"This is deep blue, like the ocean when you look out over the cliffs." He muses as he touches on of the edge of one of the shoes. "This one..." he moves over to the light blue one. "It looks like a – a – I don't know..." He admits with a smile, looking back at you. "Which one do you like?"

"Well, when you put it like that." You touch the edge of the box holding the deeper blue shoes with your fingertips. "It has to be the ocean, doesn't it?"

“I think so, but….” He shrugs. “I don’t want you to just choose what you think I want.”

In the end, you try both pairs and decide on the lighter blue as a compliment to the inviting ivory of the dress. Star earrings are found that compliment the tiara Javi picked out, and it is all carefully packed up to be piled up in the trunk of you car and driven back to Hazelwood.

"Is there anything else you need?" You ask him when you climb back into the car together. There cant possibly be a single thing left you need, but you don't know what he could be missing aside from the suit that his friend is bringing for him.

“I think that we have everything.” He chews his lip and smiles at you. “Since it’s last minute, I asked if craft services could cater again.” He tells you, having looped the production team in on the text messages and Scott had talked to them and reported back that they had happily agreed. “It’s going to be mostly finger foods? Is that okay?”

"It could be nothing at all in a little soulmate chapel in the middle of nowhere and it would still be perfect," you promise him. "I only care that it's you."

“Then let’s go get married, sweetheart.” Javi beams as you start the car, ready to do just that.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

TUWOP: @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sunnytuliptime @iamladyp @spishsstuff @famouslyanonymous

[faghubby]

LOVE AND HATE

"Karen I know I fucked up, but I really need this job" I pleaded as Karen didn't even look up from her screen. I hated this woman ever since she took over the department four weeks ago. She has been a total slave driver. Nothing was good enough, fast enough. But this time it was my mistake. I had meant to send her the invoices but instead had sent them out to clients without approval. More importantly some where wrong. Big time wrong!

Karen rolled her chair back and removed her shoes. She rubbed her stocking feet. I don't know why maybe out of desperation I knelt and rubbed her feet for her. I looked up at her and she had an odd look on her face but let me continue. The more I rubbed the more relaxed she became. I looked up again. Her legs spread wide I could see her white panties under her pantyhose. She raised her one foot and touched my face with it. I parted my lips and she pushed her toes into my mouth. I sucked her toes. I was a happily married mother of two. And now I was sucking my bosses foot. I had a lesbian experience in school but it was just a collage thing.

I looked up again Karen's skirt was bunched around her waist and she rubbed herself thru the pantyhose and panties. I sucked on one foot her other pressed against my breasts. Preasure from her foot tore a button free. Exposing my plain white bra. Suddenly Karen stood she pulled her pantyhose and panties down together kicking them under her desk. Her feet firmly on the ground I was staring straight at her shaved pussy.

"Come on, we don't want you to make another mistake" she said speaking for the first time since I had entered her office. I swallowed and leaned in. The smell of her wet pussy was intoxicating. Forbidden, naughty, I could feel my own panties getting damp. I kissed her lips. Then ran my tounge along the inside of them. I loved my pussy eaten and did all the things I loved being done to me. Her hand played with my hair as I licked and sucked her cunt. The more I did the more excited I became. She moved her foot the top of her foot sliding across my crotch. I so wanted to rip off my slacks to feel more then just pressure. Suddenly Karen held my hair tight her thighs tightend around my head. As she came I lapped up her juices. My face coated in them as she let me go.

"I think we can manage to fix this problem with some good old fashion hard work" Karen informed me. I stood. And she smacked my ass.

"Don't you think so Lisa?" She asked me.

"Yes ma'am" I replied. She handed me a file and excused me. I raced to the restroom. Washing my face. Before returning to my desk. The file was empty. Obviously a ruse to fool anyone seeing me leaving her office.

"So are you canned?" Francine asked popping into my cubicle.

"No, she was very understanding. I mean I don't think it's over but for now" I told her. Francine smiled

"Glad to hear that not sure who I would gossip with if you where gone" she laughed.

"Everyone" I shot back she just laughed. God I was so horny sitting at my desk. This wasn't over. How often would she expect. I was cheating on Tom. But I needed this job. I tried to focus on work.

I got an email from Karen.

EVERYTHING AND YES EVERYTHING WILL COME ACROSS MY DESK BEFORE IT GETS FORWARDED TO ANYONE.

I went home that night not knowing what to do, should I confess to Tom? Quit? At home I settled into routine almost forgetting about what had happened today. That night I attacked Tom. I needed him. He fucked me good. But the whole time I had Karen in my head,

I went to work early, I had to show I was willing to work hard to make up for the fuck up. I was surprised to see Karen's light on in her office her door open.

"LISA, COULD YOU COME IN HERE PLEASE" she called out she must of seen me come in.

"Close the door" she said without looking up.

"You have a very talented mouth, if your work was even half as professional you would have my job" she told me. I went to respond but she motioned for me to remain silent.

"Did you have sex with your husband last night?" She asked

"I don't see how that is any of your business" I said she looked up at me. I fell silent looked down

"Yes" I replied.

"Did you tell him you prefer woman?" Karen asked walking around the desk. I shook my head not looking at her.

"Did your parents spank you as a child?" She asked her hand running up my arm then to my back.

"I guess when I misbehaved" I said softly.

"Bend over the desk, and lift your skirt" she told me. I hesitated bit did as she said.

"I don't want you having sex with your husband any more" she told me. Then smacked my panty covered ass.

"You will learn you are mine now" she said adding to more blows. They where hard but not unbearable. "You gossip with Francine and others, that stops now" she smacked me three more times.

"I like this skirt. No more slacks. I prefer easy access" she told me adding another smack. "Tea with lemon every day at 8am" she told me adding another smack. She reached down and felt my damp panties.

"You like this don't you slut" she smacked me three more times. She opened my blouse holding me so I didn't stand up straight her hand reached inside my bra massaging my breasts.

"Not to big, I like that" I got another smack. Then another. "Kneel and kiss my ass to thank me. I dropped to my knees and lifted her dress. She wore a black thong. I kissed each ass cheek. She pulled the thong aside.

"Now give me a long deep kiss" Karen said I drove my tounge against her asshole. She let out a little laugh.

"You can go back to your desk" she said dismissing me. Everyone else was starting to arrive I realized it was almost 8 and rushed to make her tea. I knocked softly at exactly 8 on her door. She motioned for me to enter. She was on the phone. I set the tea and turned to leave.

"You are excused" she said I nodded understanding I was not to leave until she did from that point on. I went back to my desk and focused on work. No gossiping or goofing off. Francine made a comment but let it go. It was Friday afternoon. I figured I had the weekend to try and fix whatever this was. Bit did I want it fixed. She wasn't wrong it all excited me very much. Just before I was getting ready to leave Karen called me back into her office.

"I want you to come by my house tomarrow at noon" she told me handing me a card with her home address on the back.

"Karen" I started she looked uo at me sharply.

"Ma'am I can't, I mean my family" I tried to explain.

"Noon, expect to be late for dinner" she told me motioning her hand as excusing me. I left her office what would I tell Tom?

I told Tom over dinner about the mistake at work, and how I had to work tomarrow afternoon to fix it. He hugged me and told me it would all work out, I loved this man. I hated lying to him.

I spent the morning with the kids then left to go to Karen's house. I rang the bell. She lived in a new Condo not far from the office. She answered the door. She wore a white satin robe. That seemed to be it.

"Strip, everything even your jewelry" she told me as I stood in her entryway. I didn't hesitate till I got to my wedding ring. But put it in a bowl on her table.

"Bend over" she ordered I bent over the little table she rubbed cool lube on my asshoke then pushed something hard inside. I had never had anyone. I mean I just never. She led me to her living room. She pointed to the floor I knelt down.

"You are a submissive little slut" Karen told me. She let her robe open.

"Eat my ass" she told me. I wasn't sure. I didntnwant to. But she bent over the couch and I licked her ass. My tounge slid in easily.

"This will be about my pleasure" Karen told me. She had me stop. "That doesn't mean you won't recieve pleasure it just means you will when it pleases me" she produced a large plastic cock attached to a harness. I watched as she fitted it on one end sliding into her. The larger end jutting towards me. She tightened the straps.

"Let's do this in the bedroom" she had me crawl following her.

"Ma'am that's just very large" I said worried.

"No worries you will get used to being stretched, used, filled" she told me as she bent me over an odd padded bench. She rubbed the tip of her toy against me. Then pushed alittle in. It hurt a bit as it stretched me open. She worked it slow. Having me adjust as she worked the monster toy inside my cunt.

"Half way, slut. Ever had something this big inside you?" She laughed. "6 inches so far. But it's all about the girth isn't it slut" she smacked my ass and thrust more into me. I moaned and cried as she did. She pushed on the plug in my ass as well. It took 15 minutes for her to get all 12 inches of her massively thick cock buried in my pussy. Only then did she start to fuck me. I came almost immediately. But she didn't even slow down ficking me like a machine for over an hour. I came twice more before she was finished. I was exhausted as she removed her "cock"

In my weakened state I didn't even move as she attached nipple clamps attached by a chain to me and led me to her bed with them she laid on the bed and pushed me between her thighs. I licked and sucked her cunt. Like I had before I made her cum twice. She then led me back to her front door. Allowed me to get dressed but not remove the plug.

"This one you can wear to work on Monday" Karen said handing me a larger plug. I went to leave when she pulled me close and kissed me hard before she let me go again. I left and drove straight home.

I hated this woman, but was drawn to her. She gave me more pleasure then I had ever had in my whole life. That night I made an excuse not to have sex with Tom. I still wore the plug until it was time for bed.

I tried to focus on my family Sundsy, but snuck off to work the bigger plug in myadd. It felt huge. I knew Karen would not except an excuse for not wearing it on Monday. After supper I couldn't take it anymore and dragged Tom into the bedroom.

"Take me, spank me" I moaned.

"Baby the kids are" he started as I stripped naked. He tossed me on the bed. It was a quicky but took the edge off. I attacked Tom again after the kids where asleep.

"What has gotten into you? Not complaining" he laughed. I went to work Monday morning plug I'm my ass. I wore a red thing with a push up red lace bra. Tom had bought it for me as a birthday present for himself. Now I wore it for the woman I hated most in my life. I knocked meekly on Karen's door. Again early before anyone was in yet.

"Come in" Karen called out.

"You had sex with your husband didn't you?" She said immediately. I lowered my eyes.

"Younsucked his dick too" she told me.

"Yes ma'am I did" I said barely above a whisper. She walked over and started to undress me.

"What's this whore panties" Karen scoffed

"I thought you like them" I wimpered. She grabbed hold of the waist band and tore them off of me. I was naked before her. She lifted her skirt she wore the strapon she had used on Saturday. She pushed me over her desk and removed the plug. She lubed her toy and pushed into my ass. I screamed as it penatrated my ass. She didn't stop she pounded away on my ass. I cried and wiggled trying to get her to stop. But she kept going. I was exhausted when she finally stopped. I could hear people outside the office it was after 8.

"You called in sick today, you will spend the day serving me" Karen told me. Pushing me under the desk she took off her shoes. I rubbed her feet as she worked. Her personal assist came in and briefed her but I didn't stop hidden by the old style desk. Karen used the bathroom at one point when she returned she wore no panties. Without being told I buried my face between her legs. She continued to work. Until I made her cum. Only then didnshe pause.

"You're just a dirty slut, will let anyone fuck you" Karen told me. At lunch she took to her private bathroom and had me ride her "cock" as she sat on the toilet. I tried my best to be quiet. After everyone had left . She pulled out a paddle and spanked me. For being a slut, spending the whole day naked under her desk. Sucking her toes. I was in tears. My ass so sore I couldn't sit. As collapsed on the floor.

"You will never have a man again" she told me I just nodded. I went home and confessed everything to Tom. He was furious and told me to get out. With no where to go I knocked on Karen's door. She just opened it and let me in. She held me all night as I cried in her arms. In the morning she pusher me between her legs. I knew I would never leave her.