#all the sweet things she said about him too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reveuse-de-minuit-writer · 3 days ago

Text

Flimsy Excuses (Caleb x MC)

Caleb is home for the summer, and the tension between him and MC is unbearable. When MC catches him having sex with another girl, things spiral out of control.

NSFW (18+). Jealous and possessive Caleb. Mutual Pining. Denial of feelings. Accidental Voyeurism. Rough sex. Loss of virginity. Squirting. Overstimulation. Multiple Orgasms. Mutual Masturbation. Explicit and gratuitous smut.

Full tags on AO3 here: x

There’s a note in the kitchen with an envelope. Gran’s gone away on a girl’s trip for the weekend. She’s left a list of emergency numbers and cash for groceries and gas. I leave both the note and the envelope as they are, so that Caleb will see them when he gets home. As the oldest and the man of the house, he’d always taken it upon himself to take care of me. He’d know what to do with the money and info more than I would.

The thought of him now makes the sleepy warmth in my body burn hotter. He’d texted me while I was napping that he’d gone out with his friends for an impromptu game of basketball, and that he might go out with them to the bar afterwards. He’d even sent me a photo of him in the gym locker room, eyes bright and smile wide, before he headed out to the court.

I wonder what my brother would do if he knew how that photo made me feel. How it made me react. The want, the need, was immediate. He sent me photos of him when he was gone all of the time. When I asked him about it in the past, he said that it’s his way of including me, of making it feel like I’m there with him, even when he can’t bring me. His reasoning is so sickeningly sweet that it turns my insides to goo, even though the pictures make my heart race for another reason entirely.

I’m weak. I open up my phone to look at the photo again, and have to restrain the sigh that beckons to escape my throat. His hair is mussed just so, his thick, muscular arms are on full display in the white tank top he wears, and the silver glint of the necklace I gave him sits just between his full pecs. He’s so solid, so big, so powerful. Just the sight of him makes me want to burrow myself into his arms until I can fuse myself into him, into one being, so that we never have to be apart again. The ache for him is almost unbearable.

I breathe deep and set my phone down. His location under his contact name shows he’s still out, so I have time to collect myself before he comes back home. I close my eyes and will the frantic beating of my heart to slow.

The summer air drifts in through the open patio door, and the last glimmers of golden hour stretch out across the room, casting everything in warm sunlight. It was warm, too warm, despite the AC blasting throughout the house. I grab a sparkling water from the fridge and pop it open, chugging down a few swigs of it to relieve some of the heat. The burn in my throat feels good, and I wipe the condensation beading along the sides of the can across the skin of my neck and collarbone.

Maybe I’ll go for a swim. Maybe that will help cool me down and distract me from my thoughts. Maybe the burn of the exercise will do me some good. With that in mind, I return to my room and change. My hands drift across the various suits in the drawer as I try to think about which one I want to wear. I see something red at the bottom, and my hands twitch, before digging it out.

I’ve only worn it once.

The scraps of red that made up the bikini were scandalous. The triangle tops were tiny, barely covering even covering my areolae. The bottoms were a high-cut thong that left nothing to the imagination. Tara had drooled when I bought it, insisting that I had to wear it to the pool party. I wanted something that would give me attention, and this was certainly it. I threw on one of Caleb’s old shirts as a coverup overtop and left with Tara.

When we arrived together at the party, the house was packed. The music was loud, and the bass vibrated the walls. Every hallway and room was densely filled with people, to the point where we had to hold hands to not lose each other. We navigated our way to the kitchen first, eyeing the island filled with booze as we tried to figure out what we wanted to drink first. The shots of vodka we split back at my place swam languidly in my system already, warming me from the inside out. We grabbed our cocktails from one of the guys playing bartender, and headed to the backyard.

The house and pool were large. It was raised on the side of a hill, overlooking the valley below. It was breathtaking. The music was louder out here, as was the laughter and conversation all around us. Tara dragged me over to the grass in front of the DJ that had been turned into a makeshift dance floor, and pulled me into her. We drank our cocktails and danced, uncaring of the strangers eyes feasting on us, and created our own little bubble of fun.

Two guys appeared next to us and chatted with us while we danced. They offered to grab us more drinks, and Tara and I continued to twist and grind on one another. The heat of the day, the alcohol, and the dancing was enough to make me sweat like crazy, and I eyed the pool with longing.

“Wanna go for a swim?” I asked her.

She eyed the pool with me and enthusiastically nodded her head. We walked over to some chairs that were unoccupied on the fringes of the yard and put our stuff down. Right as I was about to strip, Tara’s voice was a cold sobering crash of thunder over me.

“Oh shit, is that Caleb? You didn’t tell me he was going to be here too.”

I whip my head around and anxiety grips my throat as I scan the sea of partygoers with fresh eyes. It takes me seconds to find him, and my heart drops into my stomach. I don’t know how I didn’t notice him earlier.

He lounges with his friends in a group around a fire, all passing around a joint. He’s shirtless, and the sculpted form of his muscles are on full display for every girl at the party to see. He’s relaxed, his legs splayed wide, and his broad shoulders spread across the back of his chair. He’s a picture perfect image of at-ease masculinity. The sight of him makes my blood race, and heat throbs through my core in an instant.

The heat is doused almost immediately as a beautiful girl in a bright blue bikini walks up to him with a beer, and strokes flirtatiously along his shoulder. I expect him to push her away the way that he always does with women when he’s around me, but instead he smiles up at her, and takes the beer.

Jealousy storms inside of me, a thick, ugly, turbulent thing that decimates every feeling of warmth and contentment in its path. Sickness roils in my stomach, and I want to drown myself in the pool. I know I have no right to react this way. It’s so wrong. But I can’t help it. I want to burn the girl alive with the force of my glare. I want to make him burn too, since he can’t burn with me.

“Well, looks like he’s preoccupied. No wonder he hasn’t noticed you’re here yet. I think that’s Madison Bailey, she’s in the Deespace Pilot Program too. She’s really good.” Tara continues, oblivious to the storm raging inside of me.

Madison. Caleb’s never mentioned her before. Despite all of the people he’s told me about in his program, she’s never come up before. He would tell me if he was seeing someone, right? He wouldn’t hide it from me, would he? Doubt festers inside of me like a poison, corroding every organ and cell inside of my body.

I watch, helpless to look away, as the two of them talk. She leans in close to him where he sits, and places a hand on the back of his chair. He laughs at something that she says, and shifts slightly in his seat.

I hate him. I hate her. I hate them both.

“Do you wanna go say hi?” Tara asks. Her face falls a bit as she looks over at me, and I force myself to smile. It feels unnatural, like it pulls at my skin like a mask, but I maintain it as best as I can.

“Nah, let’s leave him be. Wanna go swim now?” I ask.

Tara nods, and the suspicion in her eyes clears away. As I pull at the hem of Caleb’s shirt I can’t help but feel ridiculous. My eyes drift towards them again, and the ugly jealousy inside of me compares us. We’re nothing alike. She’s tall and lean, with full breasts, and long blonde hair that shines with health. My own body is curvier, with wider hips and fuller thighs. While it’s given me a great ass, my own tits look like road bumps in comparison to hers.

Is that what he likes? Does he prefer a woman with larger breasts? Does he prefer someone with a more model-like build to my own curvy one? Does he like the lightness of her hair? Insecurity eats away at me, and even though I’d felt confident in my bikini before, I’m now almost afraid to reveal it. What would I do if he saw me, so exposed, so on display for him, and he didn’t like it? How could I live with myself after that?

But no, I needed to stop. Caleb clearly wasn’t thinking about me right now, so I needed to stop thinking of him. Who cares what he thinks of me in my bikini? I’m just his little sister, right?

I tug his shirt off over my head, and let it fall in a pile on the table. I can feel the eyes of the men around me appraising my body, and it builds up my confidence somewhat. I resolutely refuse to look at Caleb as I saunter over to the other side of the pool, directly across from him, and take a deep breath, before diving in.

The water crashes over me, soothing the fever from my skin, and washing away my doubts. I revel in the cool weightlessness for a moment before breaking the surface for air. I hear the splash behind me as Tara jumps in, and turn around, waiting for her to join me. I tread water, purposefully turning my back to where Caleb and his friends sit. I can’t obsess over him if I can’t see him. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

We swim for a while. The two guys from earlier join us with more drinks in the pool, and we chat and lounge around with them. Tara is more interested in entertaining them than I am. Twilight dances over the horizon, and I sip at my drink, letting the buzz flow like liquid ambrosia through my body. I drift alone to the edge of the pool, taking in the view.

Two arms come around me, caging me in to the side of the pool. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s Caleb. If he’s finally come in after me. But when I turn my head to look at who is behind me, I see the face of the guy from earlier. He tries to flirt with me some more, but I make up an excuse to need to use the restroom, and escape from his arms.

There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s handsome, tall, friendly, and seems respectful once I set up the boundary.

But he’s not him. He’s not Caleb.

I make my way to the other side of the pool and grab ahold of the ladder to pull myself out.

It’s only when I’m halfway out that I realize where I am. As I lift myself out of the water, Caleb is right there sitting in front of me.

He’s noticed me now.

And he looks furious.

Before I’m on stable ground, he’s out of his chair and stalking towards me. Fear grips ahold of me, and I’m irrationally struck with the need to run. I pivot, uncaring of the fact that I’m dripping wet, and make my way into the house. I dodge through the crowd, hoping that he’ll lose sight of me as I all but run away from him. I turn down various hallways, until the crowd starts to thin. The third hallway I fly down is empty, and that’s when I feel the iron grip tighten around my wrist.

In moments, I’m spun around and pinned to the wall. Caleb’s body towers over me, with his other hand clenched in a tight fist against the wall near my head. His violet eyes are dark with anger, and his cheeks and ears burn red. His powerful body is tight with tension, and my body burns with desire and fear equally. The heat of him is so sudden and so intense that it makes my heart race. He’s so scary when he wants to be.

The glare he sears me with sends my pulse skyrocketing, and my core throbs with an everlasting, aching need. His violet eyes run down the length of my body, and I can’t breathe as they skim down my breasts, my stomach, and my thighs. His gaze is like a physical touch, and I yearn to lean into it, to feel it for real.

I need to diffuse the tension before it boils me alive. “Hi Caleb. I didn’t know you would be here,” I begin breathlessly.

“I thought you said you were seeing Tara,” he accuses, “Funny. I didn’t know this was her house.”

He damn well knows it’s not. I hated when he played the overprotective parental card. I didn’t lie to him, I knew I would be seeing Tara, I just omitted that I would be seeing her at a pool party. I knew he would be annoying about it.

But it’s not like he’s innocent either.

“And you said you were hanging out with the guys,” I spit back, “so which ‘guys’ are you seeing today, the one in the blue bikini?”

His eye twitches, and a dark shadow passes over him. Our lies simmer in the tension that thickens the air between us. A smirk tugs at his lips and he leans down until our faces are only inches apart.

“Watching me closely, were you?” He asks softly. His voice is deceptive, as smooth as honey over the bitterness of his mockery.

My cheeks burn with embarrassment as he calls me out. His smirk deepens, before he leans in closer, his mouth just barely grazing against the skin of my cheek, before resting just beside my ear. My entire body vibrates with the need to lean into him, to touch, to feel every solid inch of him pressed tight into every dripping inch of me. I bite my lip, and the pain clears my head as I stand my ground.

“It’s okay, pip-squeak. I was watching you too. I was watching as every man in the party watched you prance around oblivious and drunk and naked.”

My brows furrow in confusion, even as I shiver at the depth of his voice.“I’m not naked!”

His grip on my wrist tightens to the point of pain, and he leans back until our faces are inches apart. His violet eyes sweep a path from my face down the length of my body, before glaring back at me. “Then tell me, pip-squeak, what the fuck are you wearing?”

I spare a glance down at myself, and see the sodden red scraps of fabric that make up my swimsuit. My nipples are dangerously close to being exposed, and the hard peaks strain at the thin fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. Water drips down between my breasts. The sight is undeniably erotic. When I glance back at him, his eyes are narrowed to furious slits. I’ve never seen him this tense or this angry before.

“A bikini?” I answer him breathlessly.

His scoff is cold and incredulous. “Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days? Where did you get it from, huh, an adult shop?”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment, even as my core throbs under his furious scrutiny.

“I got it online, you dick,” I spit back, “not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh it is absolutely my business,” he says, leaning down until his mouth is right at my ear again. I can feel the heat of his breath, and I shiver as goosebumps prickle my skin. “It is always my business when my little sister is running around looking like she’s ripe to be fucked,” he continues with a sneer.

The air between us is thin. The heat of him so close to me, but not touching any part of me other than my wrist, is unbearable. The ends of his hair tickle the heat of my cheek, and I want to lean into him like a cat. Even as his overprotectiveness drives me crazy, even as his words light an anger up inside of me, because he has no right to talk to me that way, my body yearns for him.

“Stop it, Caleb. Now let me go, I wanna go back to the party.” I say, pushing at the firm muscles of his chest.

But he’s an immovable object in my path, snarling his fury down upon me. His skin is molten, and his chest heaves as he breathes heavily under my touch.

“Oh no, the only place you’re going is home.” He says with finality, “Where’s your stuff? I’ll get it for you.”

My heart drops. “What the fuck, Caleb? No, I’m not going home yet. You can’t make me.”

He whirls around and pins me with a glare that could melt steel. “Oh I very much can and will make you. Do not test me right now, pip-squeak. Now answer me. Where. Is. Your. Stuff?”

Our glare is a stalemate, before I finally sigh. There’s no point in arguing with him when he’s like this. I mumble where I put my stuff next to Tara’s and he turns to leave.

“Can I at least say goodbye to Tara?” I ask him, my voice small and defeated.

He turns his head over his shoulder, and with a flick of his wrist, gravity seems to push down harder around me, warping through the air until I’m pinned to the wall again.

“You’re not going anywhere until I get back. You will not look at or even speak to anyone else but me. If you so much as move even an inch, I’ll make you regret it,” he promises.

As he walks away, he lifts his evol, but his threat restrains me all the same. The buzz from earlier is all but evaporated, and emotions overwhelm me now that he’s gone. The heat and the shame and the anger are all a frenzy inside of me. He didn’t deny that he was talking to the girl earlier. Did that mean that she was someone special to him? The thought stabs shards of ice into my heart, and tears sting my eyes. I sniffle and try to hold them back. He’ll be so annoying about it if he sees me cry.

It seems like not even a full minute has gone by before he’s back in front of me. His violet eyes sweep down the length of my body again as he stalks towards me, and my core throbs pitifully, despite the betrayal in my heart. He holds the shirt out for me, but I glare up at him in stubborn refusal.

“Oh, you wanna play dress up? Okay, fine.” He smirks in the face of my defiance.

He uses his evol to yank my hands up above my head. He slides the shirt over me until it settles completely over me. He doesn’t bother to hide his satisfaction once I’m covered up, and he smirks as he looks at the shirt. His hand plays with the hem, his fingertips skating against the skin of my upper thigh. His hand is so close to where I need him most, so close to uncovering just how ruined I am for him.

He leans in close to me again, as though magnetized to my body in the same way that I am to his. His other hand comes to rest on the small of my back, fisting the fabric of his shirt lightly in his large grasp.

“Pip-squeak, is this my shirt?” He asks in a low, teasing voice full of dark promise.

I shiver at his tone, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel it with his hold over me. His eyes flicker across my face, taking in every minute expression, obsessively calculating and watching me. I all but blossom under his attention. The heat between us is unbearable and my eyes flutter as his thumb traces an idle pattern right along the sensitive skin of my upper thigh.

I’m lost in his eyes, in his touch, in his heat. My brain is scrambled and focused only on the scant distance between us. If only he would lean in. If only he would ease some of the desperation that I’ve always felt for him.

He’s merciless though. He sees how lost I am in the fog, and he leans in. His breath lands on my lips, and my spine arches beneath his hand. He gasps, and I feel his exhale wash over me. His scent, warm and rich and achingly familiar, saturates my nose, and I want to inhale him forever. I want to bury my head in his neck and lick and bite and mark him as mine.

The pressure of his hands on my thigh robs me of all thought, and they tremble as his grip abandons my shirt entirely, to span across the back of my thigh. His hand is so large and so hot that it spans across the entire side and back of it. I’m engulfed by him. I want him to pull it up and fit himself between my thighs where he belongs.

“Caleb,” I sigh, unable to help myself.

He groans and his chest heaves as he struggles to breathe deep. His fingers twitch against my thigh, and his hand on my back grips the fabric of the shirt tighter. “I asked you a question, pip-squeak,” he mutters low, a breath away from my lips, “did you wear my shirt here?”

“Yes,” I whisper against his lips.

His answering groan is a broken, needy sound that I’ll play on repeat in my mind for the rest of my life. His grip hardens until it’s all but bruising, and his chest heaves with his uneven breaths.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

It’s my turn to sigh, as his praises washes over me like an electric current. Every nerve in my body tingles with pleasure and warmth and yearns for more, for everything he can give me. I melt in his arms.

The heat and hunger inside of me is mirrored in his violet eyes, and for just a moment there is no doubt, there is no fear, there is only the instinctual primal knowledge that he feels exactly the way that I do.

But he pulls away.

In a blink of an eye, that look is gone, and the warmth there is instead as familiar to me as the sound of my own name. The tension dissipates like smoke in the wind, and I return to my own body feeling empty and hollow.

Of course I’m wrong. He’ll never understand how I feel. He’ll never feel the same way about me. After all, I’m just his little sister.

“Come on, pip-squeak, let’s get you home.”

The memory plays on repeat in my head as I slide on the bikini and make my way down to the pool. It’s technically the second one, as the original mysteriously went missing from my closet days after the party. I purchased it again out of spite, knowing that Caleb had something to do with it, but I never had the guts to wear it again.

The pool is heated, but it still is cool enough to chill my overheated skin. My head is lost in the heat of the memory, and if I close my eyes I can hear the sounds of the party going on all around me. I can feel the way Caleb crowded into me afterwards, how his eyes looked so angry and so hungry at the same time. It wasn’t the first moment we’ve shared like that, but it always leaves me confused and wanting. It will be an eternal mystery without an answer to understand what’s going on in his mind when he acts like that.

I swim laps in the pool, pushing myself to at least get a good workout in, if my mind is determined to fixate on him. I imagine how he must look with his friends right now at the court. Is his hair clumped and dripping with sweat? Is he still wearing his tank, the white material clinging to his broad shoulders and made transparent with the slickness of his body? Or did he abandon it entirely, showing off his physique and my necklace for the world to see.

I can imagine how his muscles twist and bunch as he moves around the court. If I were there watching, I know he would turn to look at me and wink before shooting. When the ball would inevitably sink in the basket he would mouth to me that his win was for me.

My arousal is unbearable at this point. Dusk falls over the pool, and I pause, gasping for breath, as I will my body to calm down. I know the slick between my thighs is wet from more than just the pool, but I can’t bear to do anything about it just yet. I don’t know when Caleb will be home, and I can’t imagine what he would do if he found me fucking myself in the pool. The thought makes my cheeks burn and my nipples tingle.

After a deep sigh, I groan as I pull myself out of the pool. My muscles burn from the exertion, and my legs feel like jelly. I wrap myself in the towel and give myself a few minutes to collect my breath. By the time I enter the house, the sky is a darkened blanket of stars, and the illumination of the kitchen stretches across the grass.

As I make my way to my room, there’s a sound that makes me freeze. I pause mid-step, and my breath rushes out of my lungs at once.

It was a moan. A high-pitched one. My ears strain as I will my heart to stop its quick beating so I can hear it again. Did I hallucinate it? Did I will my deepest fears into coming true? Again, a moan echoes throughout the house, this time longer and whinier. It’s followed by a masculine reprimand. I can’t hear what he says, but his tone is angry. I’m so startled that I drop the towel on the stairs.

Caleb’s home. And he’s not alone.

The hurt that stabs into my heart is overwhelming. It’s like I can feel as it disintegrates piece by piece, the cracks fissuring out into nothing until it resembles a husk of something that can never be repaired. I feel adrift in my own body. Unmoored. My feet walk me in a trance towards the door to his room, and I don’t know if it’s better or worse that it’s left partially open.

I can’t even pretend I don’t feel a wave of self-loathing as I peer through the opening in the door to look inside.

Caleb is on the bed, some woman collapsed and all but prone underneath him. His naked back is rigid with tension, and his hips furiously pound into her. I can see his profile, see his thick, long cock as it batters into the girl’s cunt. She whines again, her pleasure obvious as she fists tightly into the sheets below.

Caleb’s face twists in fury. And his hand comes down hard on her ass.

“Shut the fuck up,” Caleb growls. His voice is dark, monstrous, and if it weren’t for the fact that I saw the words coming from his mouth, I wouldn’t have believed it was him at all, “I don’t want to fucking hear you,” he snarls, “make one more fucking noise and I’ll gag you. Nod if you understand.”

I hear a needy, breathless whine, and she nods her head. Caleb hisses before the vicious smacking of skin on skin fills the air as he fucks her again.

I can’t breathe. I shouldn’t be watching this. But my feet are frozen to the spot. The drops of pool water dripping down my skin no longer leave me chilled, but the subtle sensation sets me on fire.

I know the feelings I harbor for him are wrong. But in all of the ways I’ve imagined him fucking before, I didn’t know he could be this cold, this dominant. I always imagined him as a passionate lover, as someone who gave and gave and gave until the point where he was so wound up he had to take. I imagined he would whisper sweet words and praise in my ear while filling me up slowly, tenderly, forcing me to feel every slow inch of his cock.

But I was wrong. Caleb’s hands grip hard on the girl’s hips, and his pounding thrusts are brutal. They rock the bed with their ferocity, and I can see his skin glisten with sweat from his exertion. The girl tries to turn her head around to look at him, and he fists her hair and pushes her face back down into the comforter.

“I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to see your face. I just want to see your ass.” He pants.

He’s so cold, so detached, it leaves me breathless. But the sight of him being so dominant, of him being so ruthless in his pursuit of pleasure, makes my cunt flutter, aching and empty around nothing.

I never imagined him to be so rough, and now I can’t imagine him any other way. I imagine it’s me instead of her that he’s fucking so ruthlessly. I imagine the battering of his thick cock, long and hard enough to hit my cervix over and over again, uncaring of how much pain or pleasure I feel as long as he gets to fill me again and again.

“S-slow d-down. It-it’s too—” the girl moans through broken breaths.

“No,” he growls, and if anything, fucks her even harder.

The girl wails, and his hand comes down hard on her ass again. It leaves a bright red imprint that stands out against her pale skin.

“Please!” She whines.

Caleb growls in frustration and grabs the girl by the throat. He pauses his fucking, while deep inside of her, but his body is anything but relaxed.

“If you want me to stop, then say your safe word,” he demands, “otherwise I don’t wanna hear you speak again. Do I make myself clear?”

The girl’s face is wet with sweat and tears, but she keeps her mouth shut. Caleb once again pins her down by the throat and begins to roughly fuck her in earnest. This time, when he throws her down, he’s angled more towards me. I can do nothing more than watch, transfixed, as his abs flex and roll as his hips smoothly thrust back and forth. His head falls back, and his neck is stretched, slick with sweat, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he groans with pleasure.

Despite the betrayal in my heart, I’ve never been more aroused in my life. My thighs are all but soaked from the arousal that trickles down from my weeping cunt. In a daze, my hand trails down my stomach and grazes gently along the outside of my folds through the fabric. The slight touch is enough to make me gasp and my eyes flutter. But just as quickly as they close, I open them again to keep watching Caleb.

I pull the bikini bottoms to the side, and swipe a finger through the slick heat of my cunt. It’s obscene, the amount of moisture that coats my hand immediately. It drools out of me, with stray drops puddling on the floor. I insert two fingers almost immediately and try to match the pace of his thrusts. It’s intense, almost too much, and yet it’s so severely not enough. The feeling of fullness, even if it’s only partial, is bliss after aching for him for hours. I can’t help the sigh that escapes me, and my other hand grips tight on the doorframe for support.

“Oh fuck,” Caleb groans, his pleasure mounting higher. The sound makes me flutter against my fingers, and I hold back my whine in response. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, as I fuck myself to the sound of his cock driving back and forth. When I glance back at him, his eyes are closed in pleasure, and his neck and chest are stained deep red.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he moans. His hips stutter as he drives hard into her over and over again. I match his pace, and within seconds I feel like I’m on the edge with him. “Mmm, fuck just like that. Take my cock, just like that. Fuck, I’m cumming, y/n,” he groans.

It’s the sound of my name moaned breathlessly between his lips that sets me off like dynamite. My orgasm is intense, wracking every sense in my body until I’m shaking and sputtering for breath. The puddle on the floor is large now, from the force of my need for him. My spine tingles all the way down to my toes, and a high lifts my body to the heavens.

He moaned my name.

He may have been fucking her, but he moaned for me.

The knowledge chases away some of the bitterness in my chest. It prolongs the tremors that crash over me again and again.

I watch with bleary eyes as Caleb slips out of her and peels off the condom. The girl whines, obviously not finished yet, but Caleb just glares down at her. A flash of anger and disgust wash over his face, and it sends a chill down my spine. I almost don’t recognize him.

“C’mon, Caleb, make me cum. I’m so close,” the girl gasps.

He pulls back from her and ties the condom into a knot before throwing it in the trash by his bed. “Do it yourself,” he says coldly.

The girl flips over and looks at him. “Don’t be like that,” she says, shocked.

He just raises a brow at her while he catches his breath and leans back against the headboard. “Don’t be like what? You’re just a hole to fill. Now that I’ve used you, I’m done.” He states coldly.

The girl glares at him before getting off of the bed. “You are such a fucking asshole. I never should have fucking come here. Don’t ever talk to me or call me again.” She says as she furiously finds her clothes and puts them back on.

Caleb just rolls his eyes in the face of her anger. “I wasn’t planning on it anyway,” he just says, rubbing salt in the wound.

The girl lets out a huff of frustration while Caleb rolls off the bed. I take in the sight of him completely unhindered, and despite being soft now, he’s still a magnificent sight to see. He reaches for the discarded boxers on the floor and slips them on easily.

I should leave now. With my heart pounding, I all but run towards the bathroom and turn on the shower. Not even seconds later, I hear as two pairs of footsteps walk past, one angry and one lazy. I hold my breath, not even daring to breathe, until I hear the door slam shut.

I exhale and close my eyes, before stripping my bikini off. I hop in the shower and rinse off my hands, before rubbing them over my face. I’m shaking, I realize belatedly. My skin feels like it’s stretched too thin over my muscles, and the blood that races in my veins is near a boiling point. I don’t even know where to begin to decipher how I feel.

The sight of his orgasm with my name on his lips plays like a record in my head, and I can’t feel anything except for the heat that refuses to dissipate from my body. I’ve never felt a need like this before. It’s all-consuming, chasing away every other stray thought from my mind.

He thought of me as he came. It was my name he called out. Did he wish she were me? Is that how he wanted to fuck me? The thought makes my legs shake and I have to brace myself against the slick tile wall of the shower. I’ve never even thought of having sex that rough before.

To be fair, since I was still a virgin, I had no basis of comparison, but I didn’t think it was possible to be like that. Was Caleb kinky? Did he want the whips and chains? Did he want me to call him ‘sir’ and let him fuck me into submission? The thought makes my pulse pound and my core clench. Did I want that too?

Every fantasy I had of Caleb kissing me tenderly as he made love to me seems foolishly naive in retrospect. I always knew there was a darkness inside of him, but I had no idea he would unleash it like that. Did I like it? Was I okay with it?

My thoughts continue to spiral out of control. The only thing I know is that my desire for Caleb is a constant. No matter how he wants me, I will want him in turn. Whether that means rough and degrading or soft and tender, I’ll take any shade of him as long as it means having him to myself.

And he called out my name.

A sudden bang on the bathroom door makes me yelp, and I flinch beneath the spray. “Pip-squeak, hurry up,” Caleb calls from the other side, “I gotta take a leak.”

My heart is caught in my throat and my breath stops. There’s another bathroom down the hall. I know he knows that. So why is he here bothering me?

“Fuck off,” I shout back.

I force myself to sound normal, to sound like I didn’t fuck myself to him railing a random girl into next Tuesday. I hear the muffled sound of a growl before he bangs again on the door.

“I’m coming in, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he shouts.

He barges into the bathroom, and makes a beeline for the toilet.

“Caleb, what the fuck?” I shout at him, covering myself up despite the fact that the curtain that separates us is completely opaque.

He groans in exaggerated pleasure and I hear the sound of his piss hitting the water. I’m so shocked, so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the last thirty minutes, that I can’t even react. What the fuck is he doing? What is he playing at?

I hear the stream taper off, before the soft closing of the lid. At least he has the decency not to flush while I’m in the shower.

“Pip-squeak,” comes his voice from the other side of the curtain. He sounds unrecognizable, his voice husky and deep. I’ve never heard him say my nickname like that before. It makes my pulse pound and my pussy drool, and it’s all I can do to keep myself upright against the tile.

“Y-yeah?” I ask him belatedly. My voice is small and breathy in the bathroom. It echoes back to me and makes me cringe from how needy I sound.

“Where did you get this?” He asks.

My brow furrows and I struggle to think about what he could be referring to. Swallowing the tattered shreds of my dignity, I pull back the curtain just enough to peek around and see what he’s referring to.

He’s so close. Too close. All at once I’m hyperaware of how naked and vulnerable I am in front of him. He stands there, all power and menace, naked except for his boxers, with the bottoms of my bikini dangling from his fingertips. My face flushes scarlet, as I see him holding them.

They must be saturated with my arousal by now, and he must mistake the wetness for pool water. He stares down hard at the fabric, a tension vibrating in his muscles that I’ve never seen before. Not even moments ago when he was balls deep in some random woman.

“What do you mean?” I ask him breathily.

He rubs the fabric between his fingers, and makes a point of gliding his thumb through the gusset, collecting the slick on his hands. My mortification is enough to make me wince as I see him rub it back and forth on his fingers. I want to tell him what he’s doing so he can at least be informed, but speaking those words aloud makes me want to die.

“I thought I confiscated this bikini from you,” he says coldly, before finally turning to look at me. His expression is hard and restrained. Like he’s on the brink of something terrifying and out of control. “Did you take these from me?”

I can’t even point out the absurdity of his question with how intensely he’s glaring at me. Did that mean he kept it? I thought he just threw them out. Does he still have my original bikini now? Why?

“I bought a new one,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

His hand clenches tight, and his muscles twitch. He laughs to himself, but the sound is humorless and cold.

“You always enjoyed testing me, didn’t you, pip-squeak,” he says, before glancing back at the bikini bottoms in his hand. He makes a point of gliding his hands more intentionally through the remains of my arousal before bringing up his hand between us. My slick shins on his thick fingers, and my brain short-circuits.

He knows.

I don’t know how he does, but it becomes immediately clear that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows that he’s feeling my arousal on his fingertips. He knows.

“You never knew when to stop, did you?” he asks, his voice accusatory and deep. His violet eyes lock onto mine, as he brings his fingers up to his mouth. He breathes deep, filling his lungs with the scent of my musk, and his eyes flutter closed. He pauses, breathing it in for several moments, and his massive chest heaves with the force of his inhale.

I can’t speak. I can’t think. Like the moments before, I’m frozen, unable to do anything more than watch. The arousal I tried to subdue before roars to an inferno at the sight of him reveling in the scent of my musk coating his fingers. I must have died. I must have drowned in the pool and this is all some kind of delirious fever dream one sees before their death. There’s no other rational explanation for why Caleb is doing any of this.

“I have to wonder, is this my penance? My punishment? That you got to watch me, but I’ve never been able to watch you?”

My uneven breath is his only answer. I grip the curtain tight in my grip and can do nothing more than stand there with heat radiating between my thighs.

“Do you want to?” I ask him. The question is out of my mouth before I can process it. It hangs in the tension of the humid air between us, thick with unspoken need and anticipation.

Caleb freezes, and his eyes flutter open. The darkness, the hunger, the yearning in his purple eyes is a palpable touch on my soul. I tremble with the intensity in his stare, and watch as he guides his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. He moans at the taste, and works at each digit with a lascivious diligence. His eyes remain fixed on me, giving me no mercy but to allow him the sight of watching me watch him taste me.

“Do you really want to cross that line?” He asks in a low, dark voice, “because if you do, I’ll want to do a lot more than just watch.”

My heart flutters like a hummingbird in my chest, and I feel a wild, animalistic need overtake me. I feel like I’m watching an out of body experience as my hand tugs at the shower curtain and pulls it back, baring my body for his viewing pleasure. Caleb’s eyes dip immediately, and his chest heaves as he gasps for breath.

He looks ruined just from looking at me. His eyes survey every inch of skin that has never been seen by him before. His gaze is covetous, molten, and scorches me from the inside out. I thought I would feel self-conscious if I were ever naked before him. I imagined he would make me feel shy and insecure.

But all I feel now is power. The way he looks at me is like a sinner looking up at his god. His gaze is worshipful, devoted, and full of a need that echoes inside the very depths of my being. I like being naked in front of him, I realize, if he can make me feel this desired from just a look alone.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, and his voice cracks. The sound is so endearing that my heart swells and surges, stitching itself over the ruptures he caused so recently. I hold my hand out to him, beckoning him to join me in the shower.

He strips in a daze, stepping out of his boxers with his eyes unblinkingly fixed on my body. As he steps towards me, the heat between us climbs to an unbearable level. He takes my hand tenderly, the skin of his palm gliding delicately against mine, before his larger hand engulfs mine entirely.

He reaches out for me with his other hand, but I step back. Immediately, he freezes, and a look of confusion and alarm breaks him out of his trance.

“I don’t want you to touch me after you just fucked someone else.” I say sternly over the pelting sound of the shower.

He swallows thickly, and his violet eyes fill with guilt and regret. “She meant nothing to me,” he says earnestly. I believe him, after seeing the way that he treated her. “If I had known that I could have had you instead, I never would have looked elsewhere. You’re the only person I’ve ever truly wanted.”

The hand he holds he brings up to his forehead and leans into my touch. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, the weight of his guilt crushing down on his broad shoulders. He is every bit the sinner come to repent and beg for forgiveness.

“Why did you take another woman?” I ask him, my voice trembling despite myself.

He sighs, and the sound is choked, like he’s breathing around a lump in his throat. His grip on my hand grows tighter, and he presses it deeper into his face.

“You have no idea how much being in the same house as you, being around you again, drives me crazy. There isn’t a single thought I have that doesn’t involve you. That doesn’t involve all of the things I want to do to you,” he confesses, nuzzling into the palm he holds captive, before pressing a kiss to the skin, “Every smile, every sigh, every touch, every breath you take, and I’m a slave to this need, this obsession. It burns inside of me. And I needed a release. An outlet. Because I couldn’t have you.”

His eyes fix on mine, and the weight of his hunger settles deep into the marrow of my bones. Obsession. That’s what he called it. I can see it in the darkness that shadows his eyes, in the need that coils tight between his muscles and tissue. It beckons to something inside of me, a mirrored desire and fixation, coaxes it to the surface at the slightest tremble of his lips.

“But you’ve always had me,” I whisper.

Caleb groans, and he nuzzles further into my touch, kissing my palm before sucking the skin into his mouth. His chest heaves as he gasps for breath, its the same unevenness in my own.

“Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it up to you. I’ll do anything, as long as you tell me that I haven’t ruined this chance,” he begs. His other hand tentatively reaches out towards me, and when he sees that I don’t back away this time, he tenderly cradles my face in his palm.

The air between us stretches and thins as he leans down closer to me. His lips are mere inches away, and his eyes study mine closely. The sensation of power rushes through me again, as I realize that I hold the weight of his heart firmly in my hand. I know that I can break him with a word, that I can shatter his heart as coldly and as cruelly as he shattered mine.

I lean into his palm and stare up at him. I brace myself, prepare myself for the worst, but I have to know before any of this continues. “Tell me everything you did to her.”

He answers immediately. “I kissed her neck, used my hands to warm her up, and then fucked her until I came.”

“You didn’t kiss her?”

“No.”

“Did you put your fingers inside of her?”

“No, I just rubbed her clit.”

“Did you think of me?”

“Yes, always.”

“I want you to do to me exactly what you did to her,” I demand, “I want to feel what she felt.”

But Caleb freezes. His eyes flicker back and forth between mine, searching for something in the depths.

“No, I can’t,” he whispers brokenly.

“Why not?” I ask him.

“Because I would never treat you the way I treated her. I can’t. You don’t deserve that.”

“But she did?”

“She isn’t you.”

His answer makes the breath catch in my throat. His thumb strokes idly along my cheekbone, wiping away at the stray drops that collect on my face. His expression is so full of adoration and need that it scrambles my ability to think. My heart races at its implications.

“Then I want you to do to me what you would have, if she was me,” I say quietly.

Caleb’s eyes close and he lets out a broken moan. His other hand drops mine and wraps around my waist, pulling my body tightly into his. The sudden feeling of his slick skin pressed tightly into me makes my brain short-circuit. His cock is rigid and twitches between the tight press of my belly. The knowledge that it’s Caleb’s cock that rests against my skin nearly sends me into a frenzy. I’m overwhelmed by him, every sense taken over by need and desire and yearning that I’ve felt since the day that I could first form memories.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He moans in my ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sucking gently. The feeling of his mouth on my skin sends me into overdrive, and I cling to his shoulders for support. My spine arches into him, pressing our bodies even tighter together, and he groans, rutting his hips into me as his cock twitches eagerly.

Everything in me screams to give in, to finally surrender. But my hand on his shoulder pushes back, and he gently responds, unlatching his mouth from my ear to peer down at me curiously.

“Not yet,” I say, “Not while you still smell like her. Clean yourself off first.”

He immediately reaches for the soap behind me. He pours a liberal amount of shower gel into his hands before working it all over his body with a mechanical precision. He’s rough with himself, swiping over his body with firm, indelicate gestures. I take the bottle from him and squeeze some out into my palm. He freezes as he cleans himself, instead focused on me as I begin to rub the soap into my skin.

In contrast to him, I take my time with myself. I run the soap along my shoulders and arms, tracing each inch of skin slowly before running my hands back up. I spread it over my breasts, rubbing it into my nipples with slight rolls and pinches, before cupping the full weight of my breasts in my hands. Caleb’s heated gaze is glassy with his lust, and his hand idly strokes down his chiseled abdomen to palm at his erection.

The sight of his soapy fist wrapped around the thick length of his cock makes my breath stutter and my core clench. I can’t look away from the veins of his lower abdomen, and my eyes track them as they lead down the thick veins of his cock. It looks large, even in his hand, and the thought of taking it inside of me makes me feel apprehensive.

“I like the way you’re looking at me. So brazen. You like looking at my cock, pip-squeak?” He asks with a throaty groan.

A flush spreads down from my cheeks to my tits, and his eyes trace along the length of it with greed. He licks his lips and his smirk deepens. All I can do is nod, while my eyes fix on his hand clenching and pumping at his length. He groans, and I see his cock twitch, and my mouth floods with the thought of feeling that twitch against my tongue.

“Keep going, baby, I want you to be nice and clean for me,” he commands.

Somewhere along the way, somehow, the power dynamic switched, and I find myself helpless to his demand. My hands follow his instruction, continuing to spread the soap down my abdomen and to my legs. I raised my foot on the edge of the tub and work the soap into my calves, massaging the muscle as I work my way higher. Caleb groans as I part my legs, but his eyes follow my hands as they work.

When every inch of my body is clean, I finally trail my hands towards my messy cunt. I swipe my hands through the thick slick of my arousal, and I lean back against the tile to hold myself up. Caleb bites his lip, and grips the base of his cock with an iron fist. The head of it is deep red, and shines with a mixture of water and pre-cum.

“Let me see what you were doing to yourself earlier. Let me see how you made a mess of yourself on the floor,” he demands.

I whine as mortification flushes my cheeks. Is that how he knew? Did he see the puddle of arousal I made? How did he know it was me? But despite my shame, I follow his command. I part my labia, exposing my hole to his gaze and slowly slide a finger inside myself.

The stretch makes me sigh, and I push it in as deep as I can before pumping slowly. Caleb moans, his hand still gripping tight as he stares at my hand disappearing into my cunt.

“Add another finger, baby,” he requests.

I do as he says and add another finger, and the feeling of fullness makes me clench down hard on my fingers.

“Mmm that’s it,” Caleb hums, “Did you fuck yourself so gently earlier?”

I shake my head, distrusting of my voice.

“Then show me how you fucked yourself. Show me how you made yourself cum.”

I increase the speed of my hand, mimicking the fast, hard thrusts of his cock earlier. The pace is relentless, and my muscles tighten as I push myself rapidly towards the edge. I whine into the air, and the sound buzzes in my ears as my orgasm creeps closer and closer and closer. The weight of his eyes on me, on the heat and greed in his gaze, does more for me than my own hands, and I’m on the brink before I know it.

“Caleb, I’m gonna cum,” I moan.

His eyes flutter shut and he moans, before his hand pumps hard on his cock. “Cum for me, pip-squeak. I got you. Let me see you.”

It’s like my body waited for his permission before it crests over me. The orgasm seizes my muscles tight, and I throw my head back against the wall. My cries are loud and echo in the bathroom, mixing with the obscene sounds of my hands fucking into my cunt. Caleb moans, and I open my eyes in time to watch as he spills into the tub, his cock twitching furiously as he pumps himself to the point of overstimulation. I watch the creamy white of his spend swirl down the drain with a tinge of disappointment that I don’t understand.

Our panting breaths are loud, and for a moment we both just look at each other, as if neither of us can really believe what’s happened. Caleb recovers first, and stalks forward, crowding me into the wall. He reaches behind me and turns off the water. His face hovers close to mine, and despite the waves of my orgasm receding, the hunger in his eyes sets me on fire.

“That was the last orgasm you’ll ever have without me, pip-squeak.” He vows.

He slams his lips into mine with all the weight of his pent up need, and I melt in his arms. His lips devour mine as he plunders mine with a passion that takes my breath away. He grabs ahold of my thighs and pulls me up and into his arms. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist and my hands grab at his hair, bringing his head closer into me. He groans into the kiss, and begins to walk us towards my room.

He tastes like everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Like apples and musk, and freedom and home. His cock is still half-hard as it nestles against my core, and I rock my hips experimentally against him. His hands on my hips are bruising, and he groans into the kiss, ripping his mouth away with a punishing nip at my bottom lip.

“Behave,” he growls.

The reprimand sends shivers down my spine, and he smirks as he feels it.

“Does my little sister like being told what to do? I can feel how wet that just made you,” he groans.

“Don’t call me that,” I pout. I nip at the skin along his jaw in retaliation, and his fingers twitch.

“What do you want me to call you then?” He asks in a husky voice.

“Yours. Call me anything of yours. Except for that.” I say into his skin. My mouth continues its exploration of his neck, and I lick along the path of water that trails down from his hair.

He groans and nods. “I can do that. Do you like it when I call you baby?”

I nod as I continue to lick and suck at his neck. His skin reddens beneath my touch, and the sight of the marks does something feral inside of me.

He presses me back into the bed and climbs over me. He settles between my parted thighs with a teasing rock of his hips, and his cock glides slowly over my clit. My hips jump at the stimulation, and I moan, my nails digging into the strong muscles of his biceps.

“Anything else you wanna tell me before we continue?” He asks.

I wrack my brain to think of anything that he could do that I wouldn’t like, but I draw a blank. As long as Caleb is the one doing it to me, I am open to trying anything.

There is a massive elephant in the room that I need to address though. The thought of bringing it up makes a sudden wave of anxiety settle over me, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck again. Caleb senses the change in me, and pushes my wet hair back from my face, and strokes along the skin of my shoulders. His touch is soothing and familiar in a way that helps make it easier to open up to him.

“I’ve never done it before,” I whisper into his skin.

Caleb freezes above me, and a shudder wracks through his body. He breathes in deep, his heart racing against my palm that hovers against his chest.

“Did,” Caleb begins, before swallowing hard and trying again, “did you wait for me?”

His voice is so tender, so full of emotion, that I feel the hot prick of tears sting my eyes. I squeeze them shut and cling even tighter to him, trying to swallow past the emotion that threatens to drown me. I nod.

It’s like I can feel the shift in his body, as he exhales deep into me. His touch, while gentle before, is downright covetous now. He presses a kiss into my hair, and clings to me tight, as though it will calm the trembling in his body too.

“What have you done?” He asks softly.

“I’ve only ever kissed. Everything else is, um, something I’ve done to myself.” I confess.

He groans, and I feel his cock twitch from half-hard to erect. I can feel as it lengthens and hardens against the slippery folds of my cunt, and Caleb absently rocks his hips gently back and forth, barely hinting at the stimulation his cock promises.

“Have you only ever used your fingers?” He asks me.

I shake my head no. “I have a toy.”

“How big is it?” He asks, “I want to know how much I’ll need to prep you.”

My cheeks burn, and I can’t move my face from his neck to have this conversation face to face. “It’s smaller than you, but I already broke my hymen the first time I used it.”

He moans into my ear, and the feeling of his breath is hot and warm against my skin. Still a seed of doubt lingers in me.

“Is that okay?” I ask him, my voice small.

“Of course it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be?” He asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

I can only shrug. “I thought you would want to do it yourself. Are you…disappointed that you can’t?”

His idle strokes along my skin find my wrists, and he loosens my tight grip on him enough to pull back. One of his hands finds my chin and lifts my face up to look at him.

“Nothing you can do will ever be a disappointment to me. The fact that you saved yourself from me,” he trails off, at a complete loss for words. His eyes glimmer with an unnamed emotion, before his resolve seems to hit him at once, “I will spend the rest of our lives letting you know every single second of every single day how much that means to me. How much you mean to me. And then I’ll do it all again in the next lifetime after that. And then the next one after that. And then the next one—“

“Okay, okay I get it,” I giggle, my eyes wet with emotion. He smirks at my reaction, before his face gets serious again. His eyes are imploring as he looks down at me, his hand cradling the side of my face.

“Do you?” He asks gently.

And I know what he means without words. The tears in my eyes spill over, and he catches each one with his thumbs, wiping them away tenderly. I nod, and smile past the lump in my throat. “Yes, I do.” I gasp.

He kisses me again, and this time it’s tender. While the passion is still there, it’s shifted. No longer frenzied, but instead worshipful, devoted. His tongue traces along the swell of my lips as though committing their shape to memory with its touch. His hands cradle my head, fingers tangling in the damp strands of my hair as he holds me in place to receive his kiss.

My hands skate along his skin in kind, tracing along the path of his shoulders in the way that I’ve always longed to. They map out every bump and smooth expanse of his skin in the same desperate need to commit his body to memory.

His mouth descends from mine to make a path down my throat. His large hands sweep tenderly down my arms, his touch just light enough to raise goosebumps along my skin as I shiver with the need for more. He seems to delight in my sensitivity, as I feel him smile into my throat, before his mouth dedicates itself back to marking me up as I did to him.

Despite having orgasmed so recently, my blood runs hot, and my core aches with need. Every teasing breath and every light touch only makes me yearn for more. I wonder if his tenderness is because he’s afraid of handling me any rougher. Does he see my virginity as a need to treat me like glass? What if I want more?

“Caleb,” I moan, “stop teasing.”

He bites down gently on my pulse, before he soothes the mark with his tongue. “Don’t rush me. I’ve had over ten years to imagine how I would savor you for the first time. Let me indulge myself a bit.”

I can’t really argue against such a sweet response like that, but Caleb does take the hint and progress things along. His mouth descends to my breasts, and he tenderly kisses my left nipple, while rolling and caressing my right. The feeling of his mouth on my body is more than I can bear, and I sigh, my back arching into his touch. He pulls back with a messy pop, and his violet eyes are glassy with lust.

“Hi,” he whispers to my nipple.

I peer down at him and giggle at his absurdity. “Did you just greet my boob?”

Caleb looks up at me and winks before capturing the bud in his teeth and gently pulling. The soft pinch of pain, makes me whine, and Caleb studies my reaction greedily.

“They’re so perfect they deserve a proper introduction. After all, we’re going to be very acquainted with one another,” he grins into my skin.

I roll my eyes, but he captures my nipple again, and bites harder. The pain is sharper, and sends tingles down straight to my core, and my hips rock into him automatically. He hums against my skin, and sucks and soothes at the tight bud in return. With every swipe of his tongue and twist of his fingers, the ache between my thighs grows worse. My hips rock and surge against him, and the tip of his cock glides along the folds of my cunt just enough to provide a hint of stimulation, but not enough to give me what I want.

I huff, and buck my hips up properly, rocking my cunt hard against the tip of his cock. Caleb moans around my nipple, and bites hard in retaliation, while his hips flex and rock into me.

He leans up and his lips are swollen and red, slicked with his saliva. The slight makes my pulse pound, and my cunt flutters against his thick length. He grinds his hips more purposefully into me, intentionally dragging out the sensation of his cock sliding against my clit. I keen into the air, my fists twisting tight into the sheets, while my hips raise and chase after the sensation.

“So fucking greedy. So desperate. You always were so impatient.” He groans, before sliding further down.

I moan at the loss of his cock against my clit, and he chuckles deep and dark. He uses his hands to pry my legs even farther apart, practically pressing my knees into the mattress. He toys with my flexibility experimentally, before hoisting my legs over his shoulders. Caleb turns his head and presses kisses down the skin of my knees up to my thighs, taking his time to enjoy every tremor and tremble his mouth elicits from its touch. I’m practically shaking by the time he turns to repeat his gentle seduction along my other leg.

“Caleb, please!” I whine into the air, my hand threading into the soft locks of his hair. He hums and flashes a wicked grin at me, his purple eyes narrowed in mischief.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” he purrs.

He trails his nose along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, before hovering just next to my weeping cunt. His eyes drink it in, and he inhales deep, his nostrils flaring as he savors my scent. He groans and his hips twitch against the mattress. His hand releases his grip on my thigh to gently stroke between my folds, spreading my labia apart so he can see every inch of me.

“It weeps so pretty for me,” he marvels in awe, as his fingers swipe through the thick layer of my arousal. It weeps from my core, staining a puddle into my sheets. The feeling of his fingers, knowing that Caleb is doing this to me, has my heart racing and my cunt flutters in anticipation. He groans at the sight, as more slick dribbles out, and catches it with his tongue.

Caleb eats me out like a starved man. His tongue is relentless, spearing over every millimeter of my cunt, collecting every drop of arousal that spills out of me. My head is thrown back, and my spine arches, and my grip on his hair tightens. He moans as I pull at his hair, and the vibrations on my cunt make me shriek. He enters my hole with his tongue, fucking me with it, while his thumb traces circles over my clit.

My hips buck wildly, and he uses the rest of his hand to push down on my abdomen, holding me in place. His other arm wraps around my thigh, holding me open so he can continue to feast on my cunt. The sensations overwhelm me, and I’m reduced to putty in his hands. He’s always been so intuitive with me, always known exactly what to do and how to do it. His knowledge translates perfectly into playing my body like an instrument he’s studied for years.

It takes mere minutes for me to be on the edge again. My cries of pleasure are loud in the room, interrupted only by the lewd sucking noises he makes with his mouth and occasional groans of pleasure. His thumb moves faster over my clit, combined with the feeling of his tongue stretching me out and filling me over and over again, and my body seizes.

“Caleb, I’m gonna—“ I shout. I can’t even finish warning him, before he groans into my pussy, and sends me over the edge. The pleasure that crashes into me is transformative. My ears ring, and my lungs stop, and I swear my heart stops beating, as every nerve and every cell in my body is reduced to pleasurable sensation by his hands and tongue.

He rides out the orgasm by swapping his mouth and hands. His tongue seeks out my clit and sucks it hard into his mouth, as he swiftly plunges two fingers deep inside of me. They’re so thick, and so much longer than my own, and he rocks them in and out relentlessly. My cries are continuous, and my hips buck against his other hand that pins me down. The stimulation is too much, but it’s not enough. I can feel him expertly pushing me towards another peak.

My cries are guttural, as he crooks his fingers inside of me, finding that spot that I could never reach on my own, and fucks me over and over and over again.

“Caleb!” I scream, as I crest another powerful orgasm. He detaches his mouth from my cunt and instead keeps pistoning his hand inside of me, his glazed purple eyes watching me closely as I fall apart for him.

“So fucking pretty when you come for me,” he groans, while keeping his hand pressing down hard on my abdomen.

The sensations flood me, and I feel a pressure building inside of me that I can’t explain. The release is endless, and gushes out of me, spraying all over his hands and face. Caleb’s eyes flutter and he groans as I squirt over him. It’s only after my hands tug at his wrists that he finally gives my overstimulated cunt a break, and I lay there gasping for breath.

Caleb looks all but drunk as he pants heavily over me, as though he just experienced an orgasm with me. He watches me for a moment before grasping my chin firmly with his hand and crashing his mouth into mine. I can taste myself on his tongue, and the knowledge that it’s me, that it’s my arousal, that saturates his tastebuds fills me with a heady kind of power. I suck on his tongue, desperate for more of it, and he groans into me, his hips grinding against my thigh as he responds to my eager passion.

“You’ve been holding out on me, pip-squeak,” he slurrs against my lips, “didn’t know you were a squirter.” His hands rub and soothe my thighs that have yet to cease trembling.

“I didn’t know either,” I breathe into his mouth.

He smirks against my lips. “I’m honored to be the first.”

He kisses me lazily, giving me more time to calm myself before pushing me to move forward. My body is languid and lazy from the aftershocks of my pleasure, but my hands roam his skin, greedy for more. My hand trails down along his shoulder to his chest, and follows the trail of my necklace down his pecs.

I’ve always admired the strength of his body, and his dedication to keeping fit. His muscles are carved from stone, and the heat of him is solid and strong beneath my palm. It’s at odds with the frantic pace of the his heart beating furiously in his chest. As dominant as he may be, he’s still just as effected by me as I am by him. The thought makes my heart soar.

My hand trails down further, following the ridges of his defined abdomen. He gasps at the light touch, and his muscles twitch in response to my gentle exploration. I can tell he wants more, but he restrains himself, allowing me to go at my own pace. My hand continues to dip lower, idly stroking along the veins that run down his adonis belt, before wrapping around the base of his cock.

The touch of my hand around him, makes him hiss, and I feel him twitch against my palm. I’ve never held a cock before. I don’t know how to make him feel as good as he did to me. But I want to learn. I want to repay the favor.

With a glance at his face to gauge his reaction, I slowly glide my hand down the length of him from root to tip, slowly tightening my hold around him. He squeezes his eyes tight, and the hand he has supporting himself on the bed tightens into a ball. His other hand wraps around mine, and tightens my grip considerably, until I’m squeezing him in my fist.

Caleb groans and his whole body shivers as he guides my hand over him, showing me how to pleasure him. After a few strokes, he lets go, and I continue to pump him as he demonstrated. He hisses in pleasure, and his breath is heavy and uneven as he leans into me.

“Just like that. Doing so good for me, baby. Fucking perfect, like I knew you’d be.” He mutters before capturing my lips in another kiss.

I experimentally pick up the pace, while swiping my thumb along the slit at the end, smearing his pre-cum down his length. His abs twitch, and he groans into my mouth, before pulling my hand away entirely.

“Of course you’re a natural. Gonna make me cum if you keep that up.” He growls before devouring my mouth in a breathless kiss.

When he pulls away, my body is hot and needy, and I think if I have to wait any longer to properly feel him inside of me I’m going to lose my mind.

“Do you still want it, pip-squeak?” He asks against my lips. “We don’t have to today. We’ve got all the time in the world. I don’t wanna push you.”

While I’m touched that he’s willing to hold himself back for me, I’m more focused on the obsessive need building inside of me that only he can take away. I grab ahold of his hair and jerk his head down to look at me. He hisses in pain and glares down at me, but waits for me to speak.

“Caleb, fuck me right now. That’s an order.” I demand.

His body ripples in pleasure as his pupils blow wide. He captures my lips in another kiss, before pulling back.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers cheekily.

He pulls at my legs until my knees are pressed to my chest, and guides his cock towards my entrance. He holds my gaze as he slowly pushes in, feeding me his cock inch by inch. He’s big. So much bigger than my toy or his hands. But I’m so wet that the stretch is only a dull aching pinch. He fills me about halfway before rocking gently back, and I can’t help but glance down at his length. It shines with my arousal, and I whimper with the need to feel him inside me again immediately. Caleb’s hand gently grasps my chin and guides my face back to looking at him as he pushes into me again.

“Eyes on me,” he demands.

This time he goes deeper, and the pressure builds until I have to grip him tight. It’s an ache that only expands until finally he stills, all of him inside of me. The stretch is almost more than I can take, but Caleb stays put, allowing me to slowly get used to feeling him inside of me. His shoulders tremble, and his eyes flutter shut before fixing on me again.

“So fucking good. Feel perfect around me. Like I knew you would. Your cunt is made for me. Only me. Only I will ever fill this pussy up,” he mumbles as his mouth grazes across my neck, nipping and sucking at the skin around my collarbone.

His possession makes me flutter, and he groans, nipping at my skin harder.

“You like it when I tell you that you’re mine? You like it when I tell you that my cock is made to fill you up? That it will never feel empty ever again, because I will always be there to make it full?” He continues his filthy promises against my skin.

I whine as my cunt flutters tighter around him, and the sharp edge of pain slowly begins to ebb away. His hand trails down to slowly circle my clit, and the stimulation makes me gasp, and I dig my nails into his shoulders.

He rocks his hips experimentally, before pulling about halfway out, before slowly gliding in again. Sparks dance inside of my body as he moves, and the waves of pleasure quickly overtake the pain. He captures my mouth, and moans as his hips slowly start to pick up the pace in earnest.

With each thrust, the pain dulls to a whisper, and I feel that need for more clawing its way down my spine. He maintains his maddeningly gentle pace, and I think back to how hard, how viciously he fucked the other girl earlier, and my cunt clamps down tight in jealousy. He groans, and thrusts harder, before catching himself and slowing down again.

“Harder,” I pant into his mouth, “please fuck me harder.”

His hands tighten on my body, but he pulls back to study my face all the same. “Are you sure?”

“Please, Caleb. Please fuck me harder, I’ll be so good for you, please, please, please,” I beg.

It’s like a cord snaps inside of him at the sound of my begging, and his touch becomes iron. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming his hips hard into mine, and I wail out my pleasure into the room. The sound of it is obscene, and only makes me wilder for him.

“You want me to fuck you hard, is that it?” He asks, while his thrusts become deep and bruising.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” I shout, my eyes rolling back in pleasure as he finally gives me what I’ve been wanting.

His hips snap viscously back and forth, thrusting his cock deep into me over and over again. His cock bullies into my walls deliciously, and stretches me out until I can’t think, I can’t even speak, because all I am is reduced to how he feels inside of me.

“Was trying to be nice,” Caleb growls, “but my dirty girl wants to be fucked good and hard, is that right?”

“Yes, please, Caleb!” I scream.

He moans and grabs at my legs and throws them together over his shoulder, bending me solidly in half, so he can continue to pound deep into me. The angle makes me grip him even tighter, and I can feel the stretch even deeper. My hands fly out, fisting in the sheets, and it’s all I can do to hang on and take his furious pounding.

He rises up on his knees, and the sight of him, sweaty and towering over me, flushed from the exertion of fucking me, drives me to the edge. I can tell from the wild look in his glassy purple eyes that he’s close behind me.

As if he can read my thoughts, his eyes narrow down on me like a predator, and his fucking becomes all but savage. “You gonna cum for me, sweet girl? Are you gonna cum all over my cock?”

I moan at the sinful words and stutter for air. I can feel his cock throb inside of me, and I spasm as I try to find a hold on the sheets beneath me. His thrusts are frenzied and ruthless, and it takes only a few more before I’m coming for him. His cock is relentless, dragging out the pleasure of my orgasm as my cunt spasms around him. I wail my pleasure loud into the room, and scream his name as I cum.

“That’s it baby. Feel so fucking good. Gonna make me cum. Where do you want it?” He asks, his words half drunk as he fucks me to oblivion and back. I gather what little strength I have left in my arms and pull him down onto me. His weight smothers me, and our skin is slick with our sweat.

“Inside, please,” I whine.

He moans and his thrusts become erratic. He buries his face in the crook of my neck and bites down while his hips rutting mindlessly as he comes. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside of me, and his hot cum filling me up brings me to a soft peak, and I clench around him, milking his cock dry. His moans and heavy breaths fill my ear, and I pull him to collapse completely on top of me. His heavy weight is grounding, and makes me feel even more connected to him as we gather our breaths.

Finally, he rolls off of me with a huff, and pulls me with him so that I’m burrowed in his arms. He grips me tight, and his hands stroke idly along my skin, uncaring of the sweat that covers it. As our bodies cool down, he pulls back and cups my face in his hand. The look in his eyes is heavy and fills me with an emotion I can’t name. He kisses me softly, sweetly, pouring everything he feels into it. I grab tight onto his wrists and kiss him back, hoping that he can feel my response as clearly.

“Can we do this forever?” He asks me softly.

I turn my head and kiss the palm that cups my cheek. “Forever and ever.”

His smile is soft and sleepy, but still filled with his trademark mischief. “And forever after that?”

I let out a sleepy laugh and burrow tighter into his chest. The feeling of rightness, of being home, has never been stronger. “And forever after that.”

#love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace #caleb smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace fic #lads x mc #caleb #lads

337 notes · View notes

gf2bellamy · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, I love your Spencer fics, literally bright up my days every time I read one.

I was wondering if you could do one where bau!reader is obsessed every time Spencer wear his glasses (S2 Spencer is my weakness) like reader gets so flustered and shy when he’s around. And he KNOWS IT and he secretly does it because he likes to see reader all flushed and shy. It could be tooth-rotting sweet and the slowest of burns. I love shit like that 🤭

You can do whatever it feels right, I’m sure I’m gonna love it whatever you chose to write 💜

Thank youuuu so much ✨

glasses — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of an old case , a/n: i had the best time writing this bc i fear i relate to reader too much

“Oh, God,” you mumbled under your breath as you walked into the conference room with Elle.

There he was. Spencer Reid. Sitting at the table, his glasses perched on his nose, his focus entirely on the file in front of him. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and you had to force yourself to keep walking, to not just stop and stare.

Elle chuckled softly beside you, clearly noticing your reaction. “Well, this is going to be a fun day,” she said, her teasing as she gave you a playful look.

She headed straight for a seat, deliberately leaving the one next to Spencer free. Of course she did. You shot her a quick glare, but she just smirked, clearly enjoying herself.

You hesitated for a moment, your stomach doing a little flip as you slowly made your way toward the empty seat. Spencer glanced up as you approached, his lips curving into a warm smile as you sat down next to him.

“Good morning,” he greeted you, his voice soft and warm, and your breath literally caught in your throat.

Why did he have to look so good with glasses on? It wasn’t fair.

It took you a second too long to realize you were just staring at him like an idiot. “Hi, hello, morning,” you blurted out, your words tumbling over each other in your rush to respond.

You mentally face-palmed yourself. Smooth. Really smooth.

But Spencer didn’t seem to notice your awkwardness—or if he did, he was too polite to mention it. He just smiled at you again before turning his attention back to the front of the room, where JJ was beginning to brief the team on the case. You were grateful for the distraction.

If Spencer had looked at you for even a second longer, you were pretty sure you would’ve passed out on the spot.

As JJ started talking, you tried to focus on the case details, but it was hard when Spencer was sitting right next to you.

Every time he adjusted his glasses or scribbled something in his notebook, you had to force yourself to look away, to not get caught staring again.

Elle, of course, was no help. Every time you glanced in her direction, she was smirking at you, clearly enjoying your struggle. You made a mental note to get her back later, but for now, you were too busy trying to keep your composure.

The universe, it seemed, had it out for you.

Just thirty minutes later, you found yourself sitting in your usual window seat on the jet. But then, of course, Spencer sat down right next to you. Again. You mentally face-palmed yourself.

Why does this keep happening?

Spencer turned to you, his glasses catching the light as he adjusted them slightly. “So, what are you reading this week?” he asked, his tone curious.

The two of you always talked about the books you were reading—it was kind of your thing—and since you hadn’t seen each other over the weekend, he was clearly eager to catch up.

You looked up at him, and immediately regretted it.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Awful idea.

Oh my God, how does someone look this good? The way his glasses framed his eyes, the way his hair fell just so, the way he was looking at you with that soft, expectant smile—it was too much.

The blush crept up your neck and spread across your cheeks as you quickly averted your gaze, trying to remember how to form words.

“I, uh—” you started, your mind going completely blank. What the hell were you reading? Suddenly, you couldn’t remember a single book you’d ever read in your entire life. Your brain had officially decided to betray you.

Spencer seemed to notice your struggle. “Oh, have you finished Lord of the Flies yet?” he asked, practically throwing you a lifeline.

“Oh, right, that book,” you said, nodding a little too enthusiastically as you toyed with the sleeve of your sweater. “No, I haven’t finished it yet.”

Spencer watched you, a small, knowing smile creeping up on his face. He might be oblivious to a lot of things—like social cues and subtle hints —but he was most definitely not oblivious to how you reacted to him when he wore glasses.

He’d noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, the way your cheeks flushed, the way you stumbled over your words. And, if he was being honest with himself, he kind of liked it.

His smile grew wider as he saw you toying with your sleeve, a nervous habit you always had when you were flustered. It was endearing, really, and he couldn’t help but feel a little smug knowing he was the cause of it. But as much as he enjoyed seeing you like this, he decided to give you a break.

For now.

“Well, I’ve been reading—” Spencer started, seamlessly shifting the conversation as he launched into a ramble about the latest book he’d picked up.

As Spencer continued, you noticed the way his glasses slipped down his nose every so often, and how he’d push them back up without even thinking about it. It was such a small, mundane gesture, but for some reason, it made your heart skip a beat.

Did you also mention that the universe had it out for you?

Because it seemed like your wonderful unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, had decided to join in on the cosmic joke. As the team gathered to discuss the next steps in the case, Hotch turned to you and Spencer with that calm, authoritative tone of his. “Since this is an old case, we’ll need to go through the archived files. You two will handle that. The rest of us will focus on the new leads.”

Your stomach dropped. Of course.

Of course Hotch thought it would be a great idea to pair you and Spencer together. The case you were working on was an old one, which meant hours—possibly days—of sifting through dusty boxes of files, reports, and evidence logs.

And you’d be doing it in a small, confined room. With Spencer. Who would undoubtedly be wearing his glasses.

The idea of being stuck in close quarters with him, surrounded by stacks of paperwork, while he looked unfairly good in those glasses, sounded like a special kind of hell. You could already feel your cheeks heating up at the thought.

As Hotch finished speaking, Elle glanced at you, her lips curling into a knowing smile. She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your predicament. You shot her a frown, silently pleading for her to stop, but she just smirked and gave you a subtle thumbs-up.

Traitor, you thought.

An hour later, you were settled in the small, dimly lit room, surrounded by stacks of case files and boxes of evidence. The two of you worked side by side, the silence occasionally broken by Spencer’s ramblings about the case.

You tried to focus, you really did, but every time he adjusted his glasses or leaned over to show you something, your brain short-circuited a little.

At some point, Spencer stood up and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the mountain of paperwork.

You took the opportunity to fan your face and mutter a quick, “Get it together,” under your breath.

But just as you were starting to regain your composure, he returned, holding two cups of coffee.

“Here,” he said, handing you one of the cups. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

Your fingers brushed slightly as you took the cup from him, and you almost dropped the entire thing. Yep, you were officially incapable of doing anything when he was looking at you with those glasses on.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you took your first sip.

Big mistake. The coffee was hot. Like, scalding-your-tongue, why-did-I-do-this kind of hot. But at least he got your order right. He always did.

As you kept working, the two of you eventually found yourselves sorting through the same box. Your hands brushed more than once as you exchanged small comments about the case, each touch sending tiny sparks up your arm. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the pages in front of you.

“Wait, look at this,” you said, flipping open a file. “Isn’t that—” you paused, scanning the document. “Isn’t that connected to—”

Spencer leaned in, peering over your shoulder. His breath was warm against your skin, and suddenly, you forgot what you were even saying.

“No, wrong year,” he pointed out, his voice low and right next to your ear.

“Oh—oh, right.” You blinked, forcing yourself to focus. “Didn’t see that.”

But then you made a mistake. A terrible, life-altering mistake. You turned your head to glance at him, and—oh. Oh no.

You were close. Too close. His face was right there, mere inches away. The soft glow of the desk lamp reflected off his glasses, highlighting his features, his slightly parted lips, the look in his eyes as he studied you.

Panic surged through you. Nope. Nope, absolutely not. Your heart kicked into overdrive, and before you could stop yourself, you whipped your head back toward the file so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

Spencer didn’t move away. If anything, his lips quirked up slightly, amused. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing.

And then, before your brain could filter your thoughts, the words tumbled out.

“You need to stop doing that.”

The moment they left your mouth, you bit your tongue, regretting them instantly.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, that infuriatingly small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Doing what?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because what were you supposed to say? Looking ridiculously good in glasses? Standing too close? Making my brain short-circuit every time you exist?

You dropped a file onto the table with a dull thud, turning to face him—oh, big mistake. Your brain short-circuited. Again.

Completely empty. Nothing. Not a single coherent thought in sight.

But somehow, by some miracle, you managed to get one word out.

“That,” you muttered, forcing yourself to look away again.

Spencer was enjoying this. You could feel it. He was getting closer—closer to making you say it out loud, the thing he knew you were dancing around. And God help you, the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t about to let this go.

“That?” he echoed, feigning innocence, his voice lilting in playful curiosity.

You swallowed hard. He was pretending not to know, dragging this out like some kind of game. And you made the fatal mistake of looking at him again.

That was it. Game over.

Your eyes locked onto his, and the world around you seemed to blur. The corners of his lips were twitching like he was holding back a smirk. The glasses only made it worse—made him worse. The soft glow of the desk lamp reflected against them as he waited for you to crack.

And, of course, you did.

“God, where are your contacts?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

The moment the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. Oh. Oh no.

Spencer blinked, then—he laughed.

You shut your eyes, mortified. Maybe if you pretended hard enough, the universe would grant you a reset button.

But no. That wasn’t happening.

You forced yourself to open your eyes again, only to find him looking down at you, his face still lit up with amusement, his lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

“I left them at home,” Spencer said, his voice still carrying traces of laughter.

Then, as if to drive the dagger even deeper, he added, “I thought you liked my glasses better.”

Your mouth fell open.

What.

There were no thoughts. Only static.

Spencer tilted his head again, watching your reaction with barely concealed amusement. You could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him, and it was infuriating.

“I—what—” you stammered, unable to form a single cohesive sentence.

His grin widened. Yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

And you? You were done for.

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, desperately searching for a response—any response—that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot. But your brain had officially abandoned you.

Spencer just stood there, watching you with that infuriating little smirk, completely and utterly enjoying himself.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “You know what you’re doing.”

Spencer blinked at you innocently. Too innocently. “I really don’t,” he said, but his tone was dripping with amusement.

You squinted at him, crossing your arms. “You do.”

His lips twitched. “Do I?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, turning away as if that would help you escape this absolute nightmare of a conversation. But you weren’t that lucky.

Because, of course, Spencer took a step closer.

Your heart nearly stopped.

The small archive room suddenly felt way too small. The scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating off of him—it was all-consuming, and your body reacted before your brain could catch up. You stiffened, fingers tightening around the file you’d completely forgotten you were holding.

Spencer’s voice dropped just slightly, lower, smoother, as he leaned in a fraction closer. “So… you don’t like my glasses?”

You turned back to him, already shaking your head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Hmm.” He tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. “So you do like them.”

You gasped. “That’s not—” You stopped yourself before you could dig your own grave even deeper.

But Spencer was grinning now. He had you. He knew he had you.

“You’re blushing,” he pointed out, oh so smugly.

“Am not,” you shot back immediately. Which was a bold lie, considering your face felt like it was on fire.

Spencer’s grin widened. “You are.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back in defeat. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’ve been told,” he said, completely unbothered.

For a moment, you just stood there, arms crossed, staring him down like you could somehow will him into dropping this whole thing. But Spencer Reid was nothing if not persistent. And very entertained.

Finally, you sighed, deciding the only way out of this was to own it. “Fine.” You lifted your chin. “Maybe I do like your glasses. So what?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, and you immediately regretted saying anything at all.

“Oh,” he said, slow and teasing, his voice practically dripping with satisfaction. “That’s… interesting.”

You scowled. “Shut up.”

He just beamed. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking things.”

“I think things all the time.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, shoving a case file into his chest. “Read, Dr. Reid. Before I murder you with this very heavy binder.”

Spencer chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Anything to distract you from my unbearable attractiveness, I suppose.”

Your jaw dropped. “Spencer!”

But he was already flipping through the file like nothing had happened, looking far too pleased with himself.

And you? You were never going to live this down.

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfic

343 notes · View notes

luvhcarly · 2 days ago

Text

CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE?

You go to a car race with your friend and Heesung sees you there, not being happy about it…

PAIRINGS - soft dom!heesung x fem!reader

GENRE - smut, enemies to lovers?

TAGS - smut, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), fingering, eating out, cum swallowing, lmk if I missed anything!

WC - 3.8k

A/N: Hi! For the first time in my life I decided to post on a tumblr. English is not my first language so if you find any mistakes let me know! I would be so happy to hear your opinions etc… have fun reading! <3

Music was playing around, the sound of cars echoed throughout the underground. With a smile on her face, she walked beside her friend to her friend’s boyfriend, who was casually leaning his body against his car. His hands were in his pockets and his gaze was directed in front of him. When he noticed how his girlfriend walked up to him, he smiled and bounced off the car, immediately putting an arm around her waist and leaving a tender kiss on her cheek.

"Hey stranger." Her friend joked while she just stared at them stupidly. Gently, she waved her hand in greeting and he just nodded and leaned against the car again. Her friend did the same and they looked at each other with hand in a hand.

Only a small soft sigh escaped her lips as she looked at them. Her friend was blushing from ear to ear as he whispered sweet words into her ear.

“I am going to grab some drink.” She announced to both of them and pointed to a small bar where people were constantly hanging around. Slowly, she walked to the bar and ran her hand through her hair. She had a casual look on her face, but the truth was that she was quite bored. Every time she inhaled, the only thing she could smell were the fumes from the cars and the only thing that could be heard was the engine of the cars and the loud noise of people who were enjoying themselves.

Everywhere she looked there were people leaning against their cars, laughing or even people betting money on who would win the race. When the bartender brought her an iced drink, she sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. She held the drink tightly in her hand and sipped from it, her eyes constantly darting around.

Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of someone she didn't really want to see. He had a smirk at shapes that she wanted to scrape off every time. His smirk was different from the other’s people smirk... It was mocking. As if he was mocking others directly. Without interest, he leaned his body against his black car. His hair was quite messy, not as smooth as usual. He had an earring on one ear, but not too prominent, a cigarette in his hand, which he gently placed between his full lips and took a drag.

With her eyes she followed his every step. She watched as his chest heaved when he laughed at something his friend said. When she realized that she was looking too long, she averted her eyes back and drink her drink.

The sound of the cars increased as they slowly began to prepare for the race. When she finished her drink, she placed it on the bar and directed her steps towards her friend.

He, who was still leaning against his car, noticed a familiar figure. He immediately furrowed his brows when he finally realized who it was. He watched with his eyes how she walked without interest, as if she didn't even know where she was and what she was doing here.

"Hold on." He stopped his friend with his hand, who was explaining something to him and quickly walked up to her, pulling her by hand, which stopped her in her steps.

"The fuck are you doing here." He looked around with a distasteful expression. Cigarettes could be smelled from his breath, but that smell was also combined with his spicy expensive scent. She just smiled at him and looked down at her hand and how he was gripping it tightly. His cold rings on his fingers pressed against her skin, but she said nothing. She remained silent and just stared at him.

He redirected his eyes to her and stared dangerously at her, waiting for her answer, His jaw clenched and his eyebrows still furrowed.

"I came to enjoy the race, Heesung." She said in a mocking voice and he just scoffed at her, not believer her.

"Don't make any trouble." His grip was still firm, so much that she had the feeling that he would leave her a small bruise if he continued to hold her so tightly. He leaned closer to her, his breath tickling her ear as he was close to her. Her breath stopped for a moment and her heart started beating faster, as his lips almost touched her ear. "Or I will drag you out of here myself." He whispered in her ear, as soon as he leaned closer to her, she could feel his perfume even better than before. Heesung noticed how she stopped breathing for a moment and he smirked at that.

"Afraid I will tell the police?" She asked him provocatively. At her words, he pulled away from her and looked into her eyes. Something broke in his eyes then. There was something darker that she had never seen before.

"Oh, try it, sweetheart. I will make your life living hell." He grinned as usual and she swallowed. She slightly opened her lips and wanted to say something to him, but unfortunately she didn't have time.

"Everyone, get in your places." The man shouted loudly and he immediately let go of her hand, but his eyes were still fixed on her.

“Enjoy the show.” With a smirk on his face, he walked to his car and took off his leather jacket, leaving him with a white short trick. He got into his car confidently and enjoyed it as the people around him shouted and cheered him on.

"Asshole." She rolled her eyes at his stupid and egotistical behavior and redirected her gaze to her wrist, where he was holding it tightly before. Her wrist was slightly red, she ran her fingers over it and sighed.

"Are you okay?" Her friend asked her as she leaned against the car annoyed.

"Yeah, just-" she ran her hand through her hair and then looked back at his car and how he was sitting there, grinning.

"Heesung will probably win." The friend’s boyfriend interrupted her and pointed his finger at Heesung’s car and how the car arrived at the starting line.

"He always wins." Her friend announced in annoyance, while she was too lost in her own thoughts.

The sound of the cars was again too loud as they started preparing for the starting line. A woman with flags came to the center and they started to count out loud. Everyone was full of adrenaline and couldn't wait.

“3…2…1! GO!” The woman raised the green flags in the air and the race started immediately at that moment. People around cheered and shouted. Adrenaline surged in their blood as the tension grew. Heesung was first, his opponents couldn't catch up. Everyone already knew that Heesung would be the first to cross the finish line. And so it was. Heesung was the first to cross the finish line. He got out of the car right away and his appearance had the look that was saying everything.

Everyone ran after his car and started shouting his name loudly. While he was just enjoying it. He was enjoying the attention he was getting. It gave him something that he himself could not even describe.

She just rolled her eyes at him. Heesung scanned the crowd of people looking for her. He didn't even really know why he wanted to see her expression so much. Probably because he wanted to see her disgusted and angry expression at his win.

When his eyes found her, she was talking to her friend and paid no attention to him. He scanned her from top to bottom and bit his bottom lip. Why doesn't she pay any attention to him? Why doesn't she get angry and why does she look like she doesn't care at all?

These questions ran through his mind as he stared at her with his eyes. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were darker at some weird point as he had his eyes fixed on her, watching how she laughed softly at something that her friend said.

"Hey man you good?" His friend interrupted him from his observation. He shifted his gaze to his friend and nervously ran a hand through his hair. "I am fine." He blurted out and put on his leather jacket. "Let's drink." Heesung announced with his usual grin and the others shouted out loud in excitement.

As the night went on, everywhere she looked, people were drinking, smoking and kissing in cars and fucking wherever they could at the moment. She was no different, holding a bottle of vodka in her hand and dancing together with her friend. She let herself be carried away by the rhythm of the music and slowly swayed her hips up and down, enjoying the moment.

Heesung watched this whole thing from a distance, with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes were on her all evening. He watched how her perfect hips moved to the rhythm of the music and how her hair perfectly flowed when she danced. His thoughts got in the way where they probably shouldn't have, but there was always something about her that attracted him extremely. And he didn't say it. He hated how sometimes his eyes slid to her lips and how he wished he could taste them. But he never admitted it.

He hated like how she always knew what to say to him, how to always shut him up. Sometimes he had a tendency to silence her…

A boy's arm suddenly wrapped around her waist and she grinned. It didn't bother her. It was probably because she already had more alcohol in her than she should have.

"You're so beautiful." A voice she didn't recognize spoke into her ear, his lips brushing against her ear and she grinned with a sigh. His hands traveled all over her body and she turned around and pressed herself closer to him, their lips almost touching.

At that moment something snapped in Heesung and he quickly drank the glass of whiskey and put the glass down on the bar. He pushed through a huge crowd of people towards her and put his hands at fist and thrust it right into the boy's nose.

"What the hell dude?" The boy was immediately thrown backwards to the ground, putting his hand to his nose as he kept looking at Heesung, who still had both hands clenched.

"What the fuck, Heesung?" She blurted out at him and went to bend down to the boy who was holding his nose, but Heesung grabbed her by the waist and started pulling her out, away from people.

“You just broke the guys nose!” She screamed at him incomprehensibly while he dragged her to his car, where no one was.

"You are drunk." He told her as he leaned her against the hood of his car, his hand still firmly holding hers. His cold rings again touching her skin. She shook her head at his words and sighed with laughter. There was alcohol on her breath and Heesung clenched his jaw slightly.

"You are an asshole, you know that?" She raised her eyebrows as she let it out, pulled her hand away from him, but he just put his hands on the hood of the car, caging her between his car and his body. His body was so close that for a small moment her breath stopped. His eyes drifted to her lips and she swallowed loudly, he leaned closer to her ear and his lips gently touched her ear causing her to open her mouth slightly.

"Can we already stop the tension?" He asked her, his hot breath glazing her ear and she swallowed again and closed her eyes for a small moment. There was always an unknown tension between them, which she strongly suppressed. She didn't want to give in to him, she really didn't. But the desire was stronger than her mind. He pulled away from her ear and observed every part of her shape with his eyes. The way she blinked her eyes and looked at him nervously, the way she bit her lip trying to control her irregular breathing.

“I don’t know what are you talking about.” She suppressed her thoughts and sighed nervously, at which he only grinned.

"Oh, I know you do. Don't act dumb.” For a moment, he looked at how her chest was rising quickly and how her eyes were nervously scanning his features.

"I really don't." She repeated it to him and he leaned closer to her, their lips almost touching. "Then why are you breathing so heavily?" There was desire and something dark in his eyes, which attracted her even more. For the first time in her life, she did not know how to answer him, she just watched him with her eyes silently.

"Fuck it." At that moment he pressed his lips to hers and his hands on her waist tightened. He kissed her lips hungrily, as if he couldn't get enough of her. At first she was surprised that he really kissed her, but then she started kissing him back. "Tell me." He broke the kiss and began to speak. "Tell me to stop." He wanted to stop, but fuck the way she looked at him? His breathing was irregular and too heavy. She began to think for a moment, but then she grabbed his cheeks and pressed her lips to his. Even though she was drunk, she wanted it. She wanted him.

The kisses were wet and dominant. His hands traveled slowly from her waist to her exposed thighs, which he immediately squeezed and she opened her mouth. He used this moment to stick his tongue into her mouth and began to explore it. Their tongues danced around each other and the tension between them grew more and more.

Heesung pulled away from her for a moment but then pressed his lips to her jaw as he slowly made his way down. He trailed gentle wet kisses, but stopped at her neck. First he licked one spot with his tongue, but then he started sucking on it and she buried her hands in his dark hair. Heesung marked her and then he pulled away from her and took a good look at her. Her cheeks flushed, eyes hooded.

He pressed his lips to hers again and slid one hand under her skirt. He ran his index finger over her panties and she let out a sigh of pleasure. He could feel how wet she was between her legs, even though she was wearing panties. His touch was gentle and so addictive that she needed more and he could see it in her eyes. The way she looked at him made him even more horny than he was right now. He put the panties to the side and ran his index finger over her sensitive area again. He didn't break eye contact with her and he enjoyed it as she breathed heavily and how a shiver came down her spine.

He thrusts one finger into her and she let out a moan at which he grinned possessively. He liked how she reacted to him. To his touch. To his finger. He curls his one finger inside her and he enjoys how she squirms at that. His thumb finds her clit, circling around teasingly as another finger joins the first.

“Feels good, sweetheart?” He asks her as he presses his thumb on her clitoris and fucks her with his fingers. “Y-yes.” She admits between moans and he watches his two fingers disappear into her. He then shifts his gaze to her chest and he watches it rise and fall rapidly, her eyes squeeze shut tightly. He can feel her inner walls tightening around his fingers. So he adds another one, stretching her, making her take them deeper. He watches her mouth open slightly, silent moans trying to escape, his thumb rubbing her clit faster. When he feels her being close, he suddenly pulls out, her eyes shut open immediately. With his hand he pushes her skirt higher and he throws her panties away. Slowly, he kneels before her, keeping an eye contact on as she raises her eyebrows at him, not understanding what he is doing.

“What are you doing?” She asks out of breath. “I want to taste you.” He informs her as he begins to leave wet kisses on her inner thighs. She leans on the hood of the car more to have better body stability. She swallows loudly at his words as he begins to gradually leave kisses near her sensitive area. When she feels his hot breath, she sighs loudly, but she keeps looking at him and so does he.

Suddenly he starts to suck on her clit heavily. He licks and sucks with abandon, his tongue penetrating her entrance before moving back up to her clit. He hums against her, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through her body.

"Heesung-" His name rolls over her tongue so gently and he moans again at her entrance. Her hands dig into his hair and she holds his head better against her pussy. She tries to control her sighs, but it's too hard for her. His hands spread her legs wider, feasting on her pussy like a starving man. He licks up one side of her slit and down the other, spreading her lips with his thumbs. He finds her entrance again, pushing his tongue inside.

“Please-“ She starts to beg for more and he moans against her core which sends vibrations through her body. He pushes his tongue deep inside again and again, his nose bumping against her clit. Wanting more, she again presses his face against her pussy, his tongue buried inside her as he eats her out with a frenzy. He can feel her legs trembling and he knows she is close.

Heesung hums as he feels her pussy clench, her climax washing over her. He laps up her release hungrily, not wasting a single drop. For the last time he gives her sensitive clit one last gentle lick before pulling back, a smug smile on his face. Hungrily she presses her lips on his and he lets her taste herself on his tongue.

“I want you.” She breathes heavily and she looks into his eyes, searching for something. “You sure?” His voice is gentle suddenly, not wanting to press on her too much. At first she swallows but then she shakes her head in agreement.

“Sit up.” Heesung orders her to sit on the hood of the car and she obeys. Her cheeks are red as she tries to control her breathing. Slowly, Heesung starts to unbuckle his belt, his manspread hurting from how hard he is. She watches him how he pulls his jeans down along with his boxers. When her eyes meets his red tip with precum she swallows loudly.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” With his eyes he scans her and takes a good look at her. Her eyes are widened slightly as she observers him with hunger.

“No.” With a quiet confidence she replies to him and he lets out a small chuckle as he pumps his dick a few times. Then he slowly positions himself between her legs and she lets out a small moan as his dick presses against her core. “Spread your legs, come on.” He leans closer to her ear, sending shiver down her spine. And she does, she spreads her legs to him, obeying him again.

Slowly he slides his dick into her, stretching her out. “Fuck.” He lets out as he feels her tight walls around his dick. At first he lets her adjust to his length, then he starts to thrust into her more faster. His thrusts are deep, his pelvis grinding against her clit with each movement.

“Would you let that guy fuck you like this huh?” Out of nowhere a jealousy hits him when he remembers the guys hands all over her, slamming more hard against her watching her moaning loudly. “No.” With a quiet voice she replies, he leans closer to her lips, brushing against them softly. “Didn’t hear you. Say it louder, sweetheart.”

Heesung whispers into her mouth , slamming into her with renewed vigor, his pelvis crashing against hers. He grips her thighs tightly, pushing them back to alter the angle, allowing him to penetrate even deeper. “No! Fuck.” He smirks at the answer being satisfied. “That’s what I thought.” He speeds up again and her moans spurn him on, making him lose control.

“I hate you.” Her chest is rising up and down heavily and she tries not to be loud. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t stop thinking about you.” She swallows as he admits the truth, resting his head against her, keeping an eye contact with her. His dick still slumming hard, hitting that spot with each snap of his hips. Her moans are louder now, her body tensing. He knows she is close again. With his hands he squeezes her thighs again, enjoying every bit of it.

“You’re close, sweetheart?” He asks with low voice, lips brushing against hers again. She shakes her head in agreement not being able to reply.

“Aw, come on you are better than that.” With a pitiful voice he teases, wanting a proper answer from her. “Yes, fuck please.” He spreads her legs wider, going even deeper.

“There you go. Good girl.” He praises, his voice strained. He leans down, capturing her lips in a rough, demanding kiss as he continues to fuck her senselessly. He swallows her moans, his tongue dancing with hers. He can feel himself getting close too, his balls tightening.

Heesung feels her body tense, her walls clamping down on him like a vice. He groans loudly, his movements becoming jerky as he loses control. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps thrusting into her, chasing his high.

“Heesung! Too much.” She lets out a little cry and he shuts her up with a kiss. “I know, fuck just-“ He groans as he slumps into her for the last time and when he feels that he is cumming, he puts his dick outside, cumming on his jacket.

Both of them stare each other out of breath, thinking about what just happened. She quickly pulls her skirt down and jumps down of the hood of his car, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He pulls his jeans up and he sees how nervous she is, looking like she regrets it. He catches her by wrist pulling her closer, making her look at his worried face.

“Hey…” He whispers in a low voice catching her off guard. “I hope you don’t regret it.” He pauses for a little as she bits her bottom lip nervously, letting out a big sigh.

“Because I don’t.”

189 notes · View notes

bweeeb · 2 days ago

Text

MISS JEALOUSY

Summary: The world is jealous of Sabrina Carpinter. But what about his girlfriend?

warnings: nothing, ass slapping, 23 year old reader and being jealous. all the best less my writing because English is not my first language

The whole Internet wasn’t the only one jealous but his girlfriend was practically drowning in her own jealousy. You know who? Well ME.

— Babe, you gotta stop this.Pedro said, and I shot him an annoyed look.

— I’m not doing anything.

I muttered, and he laughed, throwing his head back on the couch.

— Mírame, cariño.

He said, but I kept my eyes on my phone, scrolling through my timeline.

— Look at me, doll.His voice had that commanding tone, and I finally looked at him with a fake smile. — What?

— Come here.

He asked, and I huffed.

— Call Sabrina, I’m sure she’d love to sit on your lap.

My voice was dripping with sarcasm, and even though I hated acting jealous, those damn videos all over the Internet were driving me crazy.

— Ah bien. Ya que quieres ser esa cosita traviesa, entonces vamos a tratar como tal.He said, standing up and suddenly throwing me over his shoulder. — No! Put me down, Pedro!

I protested, but he smacked my ass, making me shut up real quick.

— So jealous. And you still have the nerve to say you were fine with it.

— She TWERK on you. SHE TWERK ON YOU.

Another sharp slap on my ass.

— I’d never trade my little one for anyone else.He said, tossing me onto the bed. I propped myself up on my elbows, arching a brow and dragging my tongue over my cheek as I smirked.

— Did your dick get hard on live TV, Pedro? Did you think that if you were single, you’d want her to do something about it?

The second those words left my mouth, Pedro flipped me over, pressing my face into the mattress and pulling my hips up. My tiny shorts were gone in a second, leaving me in just my black thong.

— You talk too much.

A slap.

— Pedro.

My moan was muffled against the comforter.

— Take back what you just said.A firm squeeze on my ass.

— Uhm…

When I hesitated, another slap landed.

— Faster, doll.

— I know you wouldn’t wanna be single for her.

I whined, and another smack made me moan louder.

— And?

— And I’m sorry for being a brat.

I mumbled, my eyes glossy, tears threatening to spill as he turned me over and pulled me close, his face inches from mine.

— People are dumb. They know I’m all yours. You don’t have to be this jealous little thing.

Then he kissed me, slow and sweet, his fingers running through my hair.

— Sorry for being like this.

— Nah. I love it.

#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedrito #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanart #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedropascaledit #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal fanfic

225 notes · View notes

oopsiedaisydeer · 2 days ago

Text

ʜᴏᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴇꜱ ᴀʟʟ

𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨… 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵

Her morning starts off… decent. She wakes up just the right amount of time before her alarm, her coffee isn’t burnt, she detangles her earphones in one go, and for once, the bus isn’t too packed.

But as soon as she steps into the office, the air becomes charged. Stiff. Heavy. Phones are ringing, voices are tense, and her inbox is already flooded with emails marked urgent.

“Did you get the schedule update?” someone asks before she even sits down.

“Can you call the supplier? Again?”

“Tell them we need it today. I don’t care what they said yesterday.”

She barely manages to put her bag down before the phone rings. Then another. And another. She answers, types, forwards messages, all while people come and go, barely acknowledging her except to dump more work on her desk. She’s used to it. Being the receptionist means being everyone’s go-between, but today, it feels like too much.

By mid-morning, her head aches, her stomach twists with frustration, and every clipped tone or impatient sigh directed at her makes her fingers tighten around her pen. At one point, she opens her mouth to complain.

“I swear, if one more person-” she stops herself mid-sentence, forcing a smile as someone passes by. She exhales sharply, resting her chin in her palm. “Never mind.”

By noon, the steady barrage of demands and stress has worn her down. She rubs at her temples, exhaling slowly. Her phone buzzes… a message from her fiancé. She glances at it, expecting something sweet, but it’s just a reminder that he won’t be home for dinner. Out with his friends. No question about her day. No ‘hope work’s not too crazy.’ Nothing.

Matt watches her from his desk. He might consider himself pretty above it all, but the tension in the office is getting to him too.

He’s been here long enough to know when people are on edge, but he’s also been here long enough to notice when she’s having a bad day. And right now, she looks like she needs a break.

He exhales sharply through his nose, logs out of his computer, and stands. Making his way over, he leans against her desk. “You busy?”

She gives him a look.

“Right. Dumb question.” Smiling, he taps the desk lightly, voice casual. “Want to get out of here for a bit?”

She hesitates. But when the phone rings again, she makes up her mind. An early lunch break might not be the worst thing in the world.

Five minutes later, they’re outside, hands wrapped around hot chocolate cups, the cold air sharp against their skin.

Matt can’t help but notice the flush on her cheeks from the wind, her hair a little messy in that way that makes her look even more like herself. It’s a small thing, but he finds it kind of… endearing. He takes a sip of his drink, leaning back against the brick wall outside the office building, letting the warmth seep into his fingers.

She sighs into her cup, the steam rising in front of her face, and it feels like the kind of relief she’s been needing. “Thanks for this,” she says, her voice lighter, almost like a weight's been lifted just by stepping outside.

He shrugs, looking at her over the rim of his cup. “What are friends for, right?”

She smirks, glancing at him with that look, half amused, half tired. “You’re the one who’s always telling me to ‘take a break.’ Funny how you always seem to be right.”

“Hey, I’m not always right,” Matt replies, though his grin gives him away. “But I’ve been around long enough to know when you’re about to snap.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Lucky me.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, giving her a wink. “I don’t just give out these rescue missions to anyone.”

She snorts, and for a second, it feels like the air between them has lightened, like the whole day is a little less heavy. Her shoulders relax, the tension slipping away.

“Seriously, though,” she says, setting her cup down on the low wall beside them, “you didn’t have to. I would’ve survived.”

“I know. But you looked like you could use a break. And I’ve got your back.” He pauses for a beat, then adds, “Besides, hot chocolate is a proven cure-all.”

She looks at him for a moment, the smile that was lingering earlier turning into something softer. “Yeah, well, maybe I should start asking you for more of these breaks. You’re good at picking the right moments.”

“You’re very welcome.” he says, tone teasing but warm. Genuine.

She hums in acknowledgement, looking around the quiet street for a moment before glancing back at him. “I guess I should head back before the chaos picks up again.” She pauses, and there's something almost reluctant in her tone. “But… thanks, really. I didn’t even know I needed this.”

He shrugs, not even pretending it’s a big deal. “Anytime. You know where to find me when you need a break from the madness.”

She offers him a final appreciative smile before heading back to the office, the door swinging shut behind her. Matt stays there for a second longer, watching her go, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She doesn't look back, but something in the way she walks, more at ease than when she left, tells him he did something right. Not just with the hot chocolate, but with this.

As he swings the door open and steps inside, he notices her at her desk again, fingers tapping absently on her keyboard. He doesn’t say anything, just watches her for a second longer than he probably should.

She looks up at him, catching his gaze for a beat longer than he expected. It’s subtle… almost like a silent recognition. He’s not sure if she’s aware of it, but the moment stretches between them, just long enough to make him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s something more to these moments.

And maybe, just maybe, Matt had made her feel better. Not just with the hot chocolate, but with the moment itself.

thank u rose for the dividers! @bernardsbendystraws <3

a/n: would very much apperciate a hot chocolate with matthew rn tbh. tysm for all the love on this au !! means the world :>

taglist: @sturnshood @blushsturns @mattsstarlet @throatgoat4u @sturnsrecord @applecidersturniolo @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @sosasturns @ifwdominicfike @cheriiboo @sturns-mermaid @solarsturniolo @sturnberries @jellychs @mattscherries @mattsturnsgirlie @snoopychris @hjvi @loverboysturn @backwardshatnick @kriissy4gov @priscillaog @ribbonlovergirl @irmantez @corspebridedelrey @and-a-monochrome-vision @pretty-random-writer @ilovebirds17 @snoopymatt @princesspeach0-0 @blahbel668 @marysongohmy @sturnl0ve comment to be added/removed to this au's taglist!

cya soon <3

138 notes · View notes

omgfangirlland · 2 days ago

Text

The Shadows That Nurture 15

Don't really have anything to say 🫠 thank y'all for the attention, for reading etc, ch 16 is done, ch 17 may take longer cuz I think I'm catching a cold so uhhh- enjoy and stay safe!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 15 >>next(TBC)

Jason was having a terrible week, starting with Ms. “I wouldn’t have been as forgiving if you didn’t die and came back kinder to me” Wayne- well- Grayson? He doesn’t know anymore- he’s close enough to just forging papers that say you’re his biological little sister just to fuck with Bruce.

Speaking of- Jason hasn’t turned on his coms and the phone specifically for the bats since the night the family found out. He’s seriously debating throwing those devices out the window, but he finds it more entertaining how everyone is in shambles.

Granted, while the others have tried cornering him to- politely ask questions- Jason is more paranoid about Damian and Cassandra. Cassandra not speaking wasn’t something he worried about, but her not texting him nonsense throughout the day made him antsy. Adding to that the fact that the demon brat didn’t even try to knife him down once? Yeah, no, Jason was on edge. Either those two were planning something or they knew something the others didn’t- frankly, he didn’t like either option.

He and the other rogues have been upping the attack on the rich to try and exhaust the bats, take their attention from you- but with each attack the bats seemed to care less and less. And if they did show up, they were starting to punch harder, to break more bones, to use those “only when necessary” blades more and more. They were getting angrier, desperate, and dangerous.

Good. It was about time they saw what they’d been pushing to the side, what they all did at one point. However, Red Hood was getting angrier at the pure audacity they had to just snoop around his turf every 13th of the month, they’ve been doing it for a while, sure, but they got sloppier with their stealth. It was making everyone nervous, the kids especially.

And now the gall of him to show up as Bruce Wayne, with that blasted fake smile, and that sweet, sweet food from Alfred. “Bruce. What are you doing here?” Harvey’s voice broke Jason from drooling over the buffet Pennyworth had made. “I-…” Bruce took in a shaky breath. Batman knew he should have rehearsed something, but lately, he’s only done impulsive things. “I’ve been a terrible father to my youngest daughter. I’m sure you all know that- I’m trying to slowly see the great achievements she made despite that and to try and understand her better.”

“And we’re supposed to believe that?” Waylon growled, tail tapping the asphalt anxiously. Harley backed Croc up, grinding into the ground the fact that he’d never tried before, that it’s been years. But one of the kids ignored the tension, coming up to the man and just grabbing his hand, smiling brightly at him.

“She always told us that some people are worth giving second chances.” The little girl looks back at the others. “He’s seeing he did bad and trying to fix it.” She shrugged and the rogues couldn’t argue. Without those second chances they wouldn’t be here, but that doesn’t mean they’ll make it easy for the trust fund baby. “Well, Mr. Wayne. Better get to work.” Two-face cackled as Cobblepot started directing the man to start carrying old, unusable furniture out of the buildings, giving the goons a break.

Jason turned to look at the little girl, his hands on his hips. “You stole his watch.” It wasn’t a question, it was very much a statement, a statement at which the little kid just smiled brightly. “She always said to rob the rich blind, too, and that man is too trusting of little kids. I got his ring too.” Jay couldn’t argue with that, so he just ruffled the little rascal’s hair and went on his way.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I’m sorry- You have to marry a fish?!” You almost yelled into the com as you stopped a car from splatting a woman. “And C is just letting that happen? I’m telling you, he’ll become enemy number one.” Setting the car down, ignoring Cecil saying he could hear you, you quickly grabbed the woman and flew to the protective dome where most civilians were staying safe. Your eyes met hers and you immediately complimented the bright green color. “Wha- not you two morons! I was talking to somebody else- Yes, I’m on the job.” You sigh as you set her down before getting back to action.

“Robot wanted me on the scene to take care of the civis, said something about Immortal needing the win, but uh…” You watch as the man gets overwhelmed and decapitated, his body going limp while Dupli-Kate and Black Samson try to get to him. “It’s kinda pathetic. They’re not fighting like a team. Robot, Shrinking Rae, and Moster Girl seem to be the only ones able to keep up.”

Cecil just sighs, turning on the coms for everyone. “Sorceress. End it, now.” While Robot tried to argue against it you just acted, getting tired of this mess. Getting higher in the air your hands raised, eyes glowing as you muttered some of the new spells Zatanna and John taught you.

Most of the aliens fell to the ground lured into a deep sleep state while the ones who could fight against the magic were quickly chained- all, with a wave of your hands, fell through a portal straight to their home planet. Landing you grabbed the Immortal’s head, moving closer and sticking it close enough that the skin started reattaching on its own. When you got up Kate was quick to tell you off and take your place, pulling the man onto her lap.

You just shrugged making your way to Robot and Amanda. “What’s her problem?” You mutter while subtly checking everyone out for injuries. Rex almost crashed onto you as he groaned, arm swinging over your shoulder. “She’s pissy because you and the ass were a thing, and she thinks he still likes you.” You frown, hand hovering over his face to fix the bloody mess. “That’s stupid. We weren’t. And if we were and he was still after me she should put herself first and find someone who won’t make her feel like that.”

“Wait- they are together? Like for real?” You look at the others as they get closer, most nodding. “You two weren’t? You really expect me to believe that-agh! You did that knowingly!” Rex cried as a bone set back in place quite painfully while you simply answered with a yes.

“Most of the heroes thought that. You two were pretty friendly for a while.” Black Samson shrugs. “Yeah, because we’re both immortal. We were venting about that, we understood each other, and then… Omni-Man happened, and he called me and my brother ticking bombs. Too dangerous to be helping.” Amanda hissed at that, face cringing. “Damn, that’s such an asshole thing of him to say.”

“I don’t hold that against him. But we are not our father, he should know better, and I won’t hang around him until he apologizes and means it.” You looked over your shoulder as the man in question groaned. “Speaking of- time for me to go.” You let go of the healed Rex, pat Robot’s head, and high-five Amanda. “See you later, losers.” Rudy looks at Amanda. “Why did she pat my head?” Monster girl snorts. “It’s called affection- don’t!” she slapped his hand away. “Don’t do that to me, I’ll break your legs.”

Before you could lift off the ground once you were far enough the woman you saved before quickly stopped you, calling you over. “I just wanted to thank you. Have you eaten? Perhaps I can buy you something? There’s this café down this street, they make amazing toast sandwiches and milkshakes.” You just laughed; not like you could say no to free food. “You don’t have to thank me or pay for-“ You tried to be a lady and politely refuse, but the woman insisted, urging you to take her and have a little break.

“Alright, ma’am, you won.” You smirked as you picked her up before taking flight. “May I know the name of who’s paying for my meal, at least? I mean, I may start thinking you’re an assassin or something if you keep being so mysterious and pushy.” You teased while following her directions, but she just gave you a smirk. “I’m Talia.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bruce was sitting next to Jason, looking at the kids and rogues, but his eyes couldn’t help but drift to the murals. “She really did all of this?” Jason just nodded at his question. “She did a lot. This is a small thing. Your foundations can only do so much, Bruce. Sometimes people need community, need love, and support, and to feel like they belong. She gave that to a lot of people here.”

He nods to the murals. “When she was painting those, some kids tagged it. She caught them and asked them to join, telling them she’d pay. And she did. It was enough for those kids to keep a roof over their heads while we were building the affordable housing building down the block, and it was enough for them to put towards education.”

“One is aiming to be an engineer and the other two are going for art subjects.” Jason looks at the man. “Many of the goons Batman was fighting quickly quit and started working at the orphanage or the hospital once they found out they could afford to live and their wants with the salary offered. You can’t always solve shit by paying for buildings, sometimes that does the opposite. It just makes shit more expensive when it has the name of some billionaire attached to it.”

“This? Helping each other, creating things they can afford while opening job opportunities everyone is qualified for, and nobody will have to break their backs only to decide if they should pay for groceries or rent that month- that helped. It brought the crime rate down. Sure, I still sell drugs, crimes still happen, but surprisingly that has gone down for my zone too.”

“She has a job now, a well-paying one. So, the allowance you send mostly goes to this- I think she even sends some of her actual salary here. I began adding to it, and Penguin started doing similar on his turf.” Jason shrugs. “We gather it all and split it so everyone can pay bills, can have money for groceries, and clothes, and even have some extra on the side. Some still don't get paid enough due to the government not wanting to fund us, but what we put together helps make what is a 7-dollar-per-hour job into a 20-25-30-dollar-per-hour job. When she sends too much, we either give bonuses or put it to vote and repair something. It usually ends up being that, it’s how we repaired the local kindergarten and school. It’s how we repaired a lot.”

“I never knew-“ Jason just laughs at Bruce. “Yeah, I didn’t either. I was a little shit like you, too, remember? It took me dying to see that.” The young crime lord looks Bruce in the eyes. “That’s why I won’t tell you where she is, what she does, who she is now.” Bruce looks at his son, the tiredness in him shining through now more than ever. “She’s in Chicago, lived in NYC for a bit.” The older man mutters.

“I’m… I’m afraid of how she’d react, of what I will find out if I go looking for her.” He whispers and Jason simply shakes his head. “You’re afraid she’ll reject you, brush you off like you did. You’d deserve it. Everyone in this blasted family would.”

Bruce nods. He wasn’t able to sleep for a while after finding out one of his kids was missing and he didn't even know. He mostly sat in his office, in front of his parents' portraits. Every single one looked more disappointed in him than the other- he knew that wasn’t possible, they were paintings… but a part of him also remembers those portraits being- happier.

“Have you gone in her room yet?” Bruce shakes his head, his question waking him from his thoughts. Nobody did, not even Alfred, the guilt was eating everyone alive, he was sure Dick would cry or break something if he even looked at her door. “You should.” Jason insisted. “Call the others, you all are going to look into her room, into her life, and see what hell we all put her through.” The young man nudged the older man to get up when Cobblepot came closer, trying to put Bruce to more work. He wasn’t doing this to better them, Jason wanted the family to be broken. It was selfish, but being selfish is what made him your favorite rogue.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, how was everyone’s day?” Debbie’s nightly question was asked again as she set her drink down.

“Well, instead of marrying a fish I ended up fighting a sea monster and then I finally moved into my dorm with William.” Mark said as he ate. “I have hella parental issues, and I think everyone should compliment my achievements more because I almost cried when this lady I ate lunch with said she was proud of how quickly I grew in my powers.”

“You almost cried?” Debbie asked, worry on her face at the revelation. Maybe they should have put you in therapy the first time you came clean with Bruce’s neglect. Mark, however, was more fixated on the unnamed lady, knowing you were mostly joking. “…You went on a date?” You sigh. “No. Stop doing that overprotective older brother BS, you look like a mangy Chihuahua acting like that.” He just pouted.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader

185 notes · View notes

lucinedoodles · 1 day ago

Text

I will never shuttup about my Rooks- Fiorella De Riva x Emmrich Volkarin

Yes. She didn't realise it- she assumed that the poison she dosed herself with that morning was just slow acting and the heart palpitations was from that.

Emmrich probably thought she was really sweet at first and was flattered by the attention. But the falling in love was gradual and over time. It takes her being mowed down by an Ogre for him to realise he loved her.

Pretty early. I think Emmrich is well aware of his own mortality and Fi is a Crow so she's pretty sure she's going to die in five minutes so they both went for it.

Fi is an Antivan Crow and doesn't really have any strong opinions about anyone or anything. She sees the Mourn Watch practices as something mildly fascinating but she does adore wisps and has a lot of patience and understanding for Spirits and Demons. Emmrich was probably enthralled by the Antivan Crows from the stories he heard from them. But that wonder turns into horror pretty quickly when he learns what Fi was put through when she was a Fledgling.

Fi was born a Tevinter slave before being rescued and brought to Antiva. Viago kept her busy with lessons and her training. She has very little care for culture in general, just seeing it as a social thing she has to learn to blend in. She picks up a lot of Emmrich's Nevarran culture and practices to try and understand him more.

Fi didn't really have hobbies as a Crow, again Viago made sure she was kept busy and her only hobby was looking after her pet snake. While she plays the piano, she only starts to enjoy playing it when Emmrich teaches her a few Nevarran requiems.

Fi absolutely cannot handle PDA's. Affection is weakness and she was half beaten to death for any show of weakness as a Fledgling. She does enjoy cuddles but only when her and Emmrich are somewhere safe and alone.

Memorial Gardens. Fi loves it there- it's quiet and safe, they're usually alone there and there are pretty flowers and so many wisp friends.

Emmrich goes everywhere with Fi after the Ogre thing. They don't banter much besides Emmrich and his positive affirmations. Mostly because Fi is completely silent when fighting.

We all know Emmrich calls Fi "my dearest" and "darling". Fi, again, struggles with showing affection but calls him "Amore" in private.

Emmrich. Fi didn't really react- she was too busy trying not to die from her injuries to that Ogre.

Fi doesn't have inside jokes with Emmrich- she's still learning about humour. But she does have a few with Manfred because she's been practicing.

Tightrope

Just before the final battle, Emmrich gifted her the ring his father gave his mother. Fi in turn, gifted him a small jewelled vial pendant that carries a poison antidote. The vial was the first thing she ever bought with her own money.

I dunno man, the game said he made a copy of Solas' dagger so it seemed like he was trying to get her out of there somehow

Her first thought was to get out of there because she couldn't let Emmrich worry. She knew how he felt about how death would one day part them- they literally just had the argument.

His kindness. She grew up knowing cruelty and even Viago's affection for her was wrapped up in harsh treatment to keep her safe. So, Emmrich's gentleness and never-ending patience had her fall even harder. Emmrich fell in love with her selfless nature and bravery. He saw sparks of wonder and curiosity for the world around her, hidden amongst the layers of fear.

They get married and fuck off to Nevarra. Viago gives Fi time to recuperate after the events of Veilguard but that time off was extended when she ended up pregnant. She still takes occasional Contracts but it looks like House de Riva may need a new successor because her priorities had shifted.

Questions for your Rook and their partner:

Does your Rook fall for their partner at first sight? If not, what moment made your Rook realize they're in love with them?

When does the partner realize that they're in love with Rook?

How long does it take for them to officially get together? Did any of the other Lighthouse members have any suspicions beforehand?

Do your Rook and their partner share the same faction? If so, does that affect their relationship at all? If not, what is your Rook's opinion of their partner's faction? What is the partner's opinion of Rook's faction?

Do they have different cultural backgrounds (e.g. a Rook who was raised in Antiva with Harding who was raised in Ferelden)? If so, do they ever share parts of their culture with each other? If they're similar, how do they celebrate their culture together?

What is their favorite thing to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Does your Rook teach their partner their own hobbies? Does the partner teach Rook theirs?

Are they a physically affectionate couple? Are they fine displaying those affections in public or do they prefer to be in private? If they're not, how do they prefer to show their love instead?

What does their ideal date look like? Do they go on much?

Does your Rook bring them out often? How are they like on the battlefield? Do they banter much?

Do they have any nicknames for each other? Who uses terms of endearment more?

Who says "I love you" first? What is the other's reaction? Who thinks it first?

Any inside jokes?

What song(s) do you associate with them?

Does your Rook get their partner any other gifts (besides the one already in-game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special?

What was the partner's reaction to Rook being imprisoned in the Fade? How did they cope? How did they react upon seeing Rook again?

How did your Rook react to getting trapped in the Fade and separated from their partner?

What is your Rook's favorite thing about their partner? What is the partner's favorite thing about Rook?

When all is said and done, where would they like to retire together? Is marriage in the cards for them? Children? Pets?

#fiorella de riva #rook de riva #antivan crows #crow rook #emmrook #emmrich x rook

1K notes · View notes

wolfish-trickster · 2 days ago

Text

In sickness

Astarion x female!reader/Tav

Word count: 3.9K

Summary: you wake up with an extremely high fever. As bad luck usually has it all companions have to leave the camp. All except the only undead one who has long forgotten what being sick feels like.

Warnings: angst to fluff, (child) SA and abuse, typos, possible bad grammar, i know jack shit about dnd (only have been obsessed with bg3 for two weeks) so some companions and over all logic might be ooc, enjoy :3

A/N: this is my first time writing for Astarion, I tried to be as accurate as possible from all the videos I've seen of him. Also I started writing this while having 39.9°C myself so reading it could feel like a fever dream 😅

"Karlach, can I hug you?" you mutter.

Everyone sitting around the campfire spits out their stew which Gale worked very hard on. All their eyes studied you as if you've already turned into a mindflayer.

"If you so desperately want to cuddle I volunteer," Astarion raises his hand.

Shadowheart yanks it down with a scowl. "As if she'd want to cuddle a bloodthirsty icicle."

"Unlike you my dear, my warm heart makes up for the cold body."

"What makes you think my heart isn't wamer than yours?"

"The clue is in your name, genius."

"As much as I'd love to, soldier," Karlach adressed you, completely ignoring the bickering of the two of them, "I'd hurt you and that's the last thing I want. But I appreciate it."

You didn't have the heart to tell her the truth after the sweet smile she showed you. But you had to. "I'm just," you hugged your shoulders even tighter, "I'm really cold Karlach. Maybe if you could, just a bit..."

"Warm you up?"

You nodded.

Gale studied your shivering frame. "Are you alright? You look a bit pale."

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," you dismissed him.

"Fine looks different," Shadowheart let Astarion's wrist be and walked up to you, cupping your cheeks, feeling your temperature. "You're hot."

"Wow, and water is wet," Astarion scoffed and took a sip of his wine.

Shadowheart glared. "I meant her body."

"Me too!"

"Her temperature, you fool. It's way too high," she turned back to you, eyes softer, "I know you're cold, but we can't warm you up. We need to pull your temperature down."

"No," you groaned. You felt like you were freezing. Cooling you down? Is she out of her mind?

"We have to! If your body warms up any more your organs could fail and we could lose you!"

Before you could protest she already started dragging you to her tent. Astarion creeping up behind you. "Excuse my intrusion but what kind of logic is that? Look at her! She's shivering and you want to freeze her even more?"

"A coldblooded guy like you won't understand," said Shadowheart as she forced you to lay down on her bedroll. "Humans have a certain body temperature at which all of their body functions work properly. If infection gets in the immune system rises the temperature in order to get rid of the virus or the parasite, since they can't survive high heat. Unfortunately neither can humans," she kept explaining as she searched for the correct vial in her bag. "If our temperature stays high for way too long some of our organs can fail which could lead to dire consequences."

"I know but please," you propped up yourself on your elbows, "all I need is couple of minutes. Then you can do whatever you want with me."

"Sorry," she said as she finally pulledout a small vial filled with icy blue liquid. "For how long have you had the fever?"

You shrugged. Around noon you noticed your face getting warmer but you guessed it must've been from the traveling under the sun with barely any shadow on your trail. Then as the sun kept getting lower and lower you still felt warm, even when the rest had to put on another layer of clothing to shield them from the soft wind. It was only an hour ago when your warmth left you, replacing it with freezing cold and shiver all over your body.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter," Shadowheart gave you the vial. "Bottoms up."

You studied it. The liquid inside almost resembled water. Slightly colored but still. A big difference from dense potions she had in her arsenal. You opened it and drank it in one gulp. Coldness bloomed inside your chest and you wrapped yourself in whatever your hands reached.

Astarion crossed his arms. "Not that I doubt your healing abbilities but-"

"Then don't doubt them," Shadowheart smirked and pushed him out of her tent. "She needs rest now."

It only took minutes for your body to stop shivering. Your cheeks didn't feel like they were on fire anymore. Finally.

Your eyelids became too heavy for you to keep them open. Consciousness slowly slipped from you, but not before hearing faint voices of your companions.

"I should've taken her to her own tent though..."

"As if that makes any difference where she lays."

"But it does make a difference where I lay! Her tent is the only available now."

"Problem solved then."

"It's right next to yours."

".....well shit, Shadowheart."

☆

It was quiet. Awfully quiet. Not a good sign when it comes to your little group.

You attempted to stand up and go investigate but the entire world spinned beneath your feet. Yup, no walking for you today. Begrudgingly you layed down again, annayed at your weak body. Those times when you sprang up and fought goblins seemed like ages ago. Oh, how you took them for granted...

Shadowheart's tent opened. Even with closed eyes you could hear these footsteps weren't hers. They were soft, light, like a sneaking cat's. You opened your eyes. It took some time for them to adjust but even blurry you could make out curly white hair and pale face with two red eyes like two drops of blood on snow.

"What time is it?" You groaned.

"Almost noon," Astarion answered and sat down, cross-crossed right next to your flaming body. You couldn't take the heat anymore and threw the blankets as far away from you as you could, which was slightly past your feet.

"I take it you're not cold anymore?"

You shook your head. "Where is everyone."

"Shadowheart and Gale went to a nearby village to fetch some medicine for you. Karlach went with them to," he coughed a bit and imitated Karlach's voice, "protect them since our bravest soldier is fighting her own battles. In my opinion she just wants to check out the local tavern. It has been some time since we've come across a decent one. I swear the bigger the city the more their wine tastes like vinegar," he scrunched up his nose and you giggled.

"You could've went with them. Maybe you'd find a fine wine bar and restock. Or you were too worried about little ol' me?" You teased.

"Oh please, I'm not some drunkard who can't go a month without a fine bevarage. Even though their offer was tempting I selflessly volunteered to stay behind and look after you," he waved his hands around like a diva that he is. "So tell me darling, what ails you?"

You turned on your side, facing him, eyes closed. Just yesterday you would've given anything to feel warm, you'd even risk it and throw yourself into a bonfire. But now you wanted nothing more than to jump into a frozen lake instead. "I'm hot."

"I'm aware."

"Astarion," you moaned out his name to which he chuckled. Not the first time he heard his name fall from your lips like that.

"Alright, what am I supposed to do? All the instructions I got were "look after her" with no other details."

You sighed. "Just bring me a glass of water please."

It took some time but at last Astarion marched into Shadowheart's, now temporarily yours, tent. He found you eyes closed splayed out like a starfish on the slightly cooler ground, the warmth of the bedroll long forgotten. Astarion croched down and brushed his fingers over your sweaty forhead. It felt almost as if he touched a burning oven.

Shadowheart's words echoed in his mind. High temperature for way too long, failing organs, dire consequences. Damn it, for how much longer are they going to stay on their little field trip?

Your soft sigh pulled him out of his thoughts. Unknowingly he placed his full palm on your burning forhead which pulled out a soft content humm from you. What does Shadowheart call him? Cold blooded?

"Darling," he leaned in and whispered to disturb your short nap as little as possible, "I have an idea. I will attempt to cool you down with my body until your medicine comes. We'll finally have a proper cuddle, what do you say?"

Eyes still closed you nuzzled into his cold palm even more. Astarion took it as a yes. A big mistake on his part.

☆

You were slipping in and out of consciousness. Pain pounded in your head and if that wasn't enough the whole world kept on spinning and spinning. You heard voices. Something cold on your forhead. It felt nice. Comforting. You whined a bit when the cool object left. However you didn't have the energy to chase it and return the good feeling. Something shuffled in the background. Some fabrics. You couldn't care less, you just turned on your side, ignroing the uncomfortable feeling of your sweaty shirt clinging to your back.

The hem of the shirt moved up. Someone was pulling it off of you. Panicked you opened your eyes, unable to make your vision focused and clear. All you could see was a shirtless male body, much bigger than yours, hovering above you. Two blurry limbs pulling your shirt over your head. Something came back to you, a distant memory. One you naively thought has left your brain for good. Tears welled up in your eyes and you weakly tried to push the fabric down to cover yourself again but the stranger was stronger.

"No, please no," you whispered, unable to make any louder sound out of the weakness.

"Relax, I know you don't want to but Shadowheart-"

"No," you said a bit louder. You couldn't remember what or who was Shadowheart, or whose voice was speaking to you. The only thing on your mind was escape. It was only after the man has fully taken off your shirt when you gained enough strength to scream. "Robert stop it!"

Your leg flew up in a weak attempt to kick but he caught it. "What?"

When you realized your old trick won't work again you wriggled your ankle from his grasp and curled into the smallest ball you could. Your eyes stang with hot tears, body shaking from both the temperature and the fear. Trembling you waited. Waited for him to do something, anything. Nothing happened. No rough hands roaming parts of your body you didn't want touched. No further stripping. After a long time your heart finally stopped pounding in your chest, your tears have dried. Your headache has gone too. With a clear vision and even clearer mind you started to remember. You weren't a kid anymore. This wasn't your grandma's cottage. And the man patiently sitting in the corner with his head down was...

"Astarion?"

His head snapped towards yours. "There you are," he put on one of his charming smiles. A fake one as you've learned over the months. "For a second I thought you've been overcome by the worm already," he let out a chuckle. A high pitched one. The one he uses to mask his true feelings.

Your hand brushed your dry cracked lips and he understood. Cold water streamed down your throat, spreading the relieving coolness all over your chest. Once you've finished the glass Astarion put it beside you, tucked couple of blankets over your half naked bidy and moved to the corner again, as far away from you as possible. You grabbed his sleeve. "Stay."

"I can't."

"I'm sorry."

"What?" His eyes met yours, confusion swimming in his blood red irises. "Darling you have it a bit twisted. I should be the one apologizing," he took your hand in his and forced your fingers to stop clutching his clothes. It was still flaming hot. Not even the cold water has helped...

"No, I- hmm," you sighed and looked away.

Astarion sat down and studied you. For the first time he appreciated his skill of reading people in order to please them. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Your lips formed a thin line, eyes began to water.

Astarion raised his hands up in a panic. "Or not. Forget I ever said anything. Let's just wait until the rest returns. Until then we could play some nice games. Everyone loves those! Alright, I spy with my eye something that is blue. Guess what?"

His usual bravado was back. Not a hint about the concerned vulnerable Astarion that peeked out a second ago. You wanted that Astarion. No, you needed him. Out of all people he is the only one that could understand.

"Astarion."

"But darling, I'm not blue," he chuckled and attempted to give you the warmest eyes possible. "Try again."

"No, I-I want to tell you. What happened to me. Maybe I'll feel better afterwards?" You looked up at him, pleading with your eyes. Begging the soft Astarion to come to you.

He did. His over exaggarated smile fell into a sympathetic one as he proped up his chin on his hands. "Alright. I'm all ears."

You nodded. Suddenly you had no idea how to even begin. Where to begin?

He noticed your struggle. "It's alright, take your time."

"I just don't know where to begin..."

"From the start. That usually works," he playfully nudged you to lighten up the mood.

You rolled your eyes but with a soft smile. Alright. You've carried it inside for long enough.

"When I was a child my parents had to go on business trips a lot. They usually dropped me at my grandmother's house. She had a small cottage in the mountains. No neighbours, no kids, no friends. I hated going there," you turned on your side, facing him as memories from your childhood filled your mind. The long journey to her cottage. The cakes she always baked just for you, to get your energy back after such a trip. The smell of the cottage filled your nose; blueberry pie, old wood, moss. How you used to love that smell. It was the only good thing about that lonely place.

"But, once in a while my cousin visited."

"Robert," Astarion whispered more to himself than to you. As he slowly started putting the pieces of this puzzle together he realized how horribly scared you must've been few minutes ago.

You continued. "He was quite older than me. I loved him. He was the big brother I always wanted. We stole cookies together, he taught me how to climb a tree. He played with me lots and lots," you smiled during remembering of the nice parts. Then the ugly chapter of the story came. Your mouth fell into a straight line, your eyes lost all shine. "One day we begged grandma to make us a pie with forest fruit. She promised to fill the biggest basket she owned with berries and make us the best pie we've ever eaten. Then she closed the door and my cousin suggested we play a new game."

Your arms curcled around your shoulders. Subconsciously pulling yourself into a smalle curled ball again. "I didn't know the rules. He never explained them. But then he took of his shirt. And wanted to take mine off too. I tried to fight him off but he pinned me to the ground. That bastard ripped apart my favourite dress."

Astarion opened his mouth, ready to pull you back into present, to stop you from reliving that horrible moment.

"But," you said, "he was always clumsy with his belt. Always wanted to have a dagger tied to it. I kicked it and it ripped his stomach. Left quite the wound."

That....wasn't what Astarion expected. "My, you were feisty even in your childhood," he purred.

You chuckled. "Not really. I was aiming for the crotch but my legs were too short," Astarion chuckled and the shine returned to your face again. "My grandma came back before he could bleed out. She saved him. When she asked what's happened he said we were just playing. Then he left and I haven't seen him for ten years. When we met again he never even mentioned it, as if it never happened. He never told anyone. Neither did I. And neither will you."

Astarion nodded. "Cross my heart and hope to- uh. I promise."

"Thanks," you rolled on your back again. "Actually now that I've said it out loud, it doesn't sound that bad, you know? I mean, he didn't do anything to me, but I actually drew blood. If anything, he should be the traumatized one, not me."

You couldn't see it but Astarion's face flipped between multiple expressions. Shock, confusion, anger, and finally sympathy. "Let me stop you right there darling. First of all, don't ever dismiss it because "nothing happened". Something has happened and you have every right to feel what you do. Second of all, even though he's your family, in my humblest opinion he deserved to bleed out right then and there for scarring you. And third of all," he carefully took your hand and you sighed at the contact with something cool, "I'm always here for you. Just as you were always there for me. Don't close yourself from me. I know the feeling and trust me, it's better to let it out. Like you've taught me."

You squeezed his hand, grateful for his words. You did feel better, mentally. But physically you were ready to die.

"Astarion, could you do something, please?"

"Anything my love."

You bit your lower lip nervously and stared at your joined hands. "Could you cuddle with me? Shirt off and all that. Just like you wanted before I..."

His eyes grew concerned. "Are you sure?"

You nodded. Slowly you took the blanket off of you and propped yourself up on your elbows. You were sick of lying down all the time.

Astarion reached out to steady your frame as you slowly came to sit on his lap, straddling it. You hugged his cold torso and sighed in pure pleasure. This is exactly what your overheated body needed. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and clung to him like koala. To your dissapointment Astarion's hand remained respectfully on the waistband of your pants.

"Hug me back. Please," you whispered into his pale skin.

Reluctantly his arms circled you, carefully as if you could break if he held you too tight. After seeing your reactions his hands started to draw circles on your back, spreading the coolness all over it.

The two of you have been together, joined body and soul, multiple times. Even in a position like this with no pants as bariers at all. But this...this hug. It was by far the most intimate you've ever been with him.

He held you like that for hours. Even when his legs have long fallen asleep he didn't want to end this just yet. Out of all the times he has had creatures of all shapes and sexes ride him and cling to him just like you were now, what you did was different. Pleasant. For the first time he truly felt needed, in the most innocent way possible.

After your vertigo came back you wanted to lay down again but Astarion coukdn't let the feeling end yet. So there you were now, chest to chest, your arms hilding his torso tightly against yours, your hot cheek resting against a place where Astarion's heart would be beating out of pure joy if he was still alive. It only took couple of strokes on your back and you were gone, off to the dreamlands. Astarion would've followed you if it wasn't for the ruckus outside the tent.

"Tav, we're back!" Gale ripped apart the closed flaps on the tent.

"And we have a medicine for you! It took a while of persuasion but at last we have a potion for you that will pull you right back onto your feet," Shadowheart said proudly as she held up a vial with thick purple liquid.

"Shush you foold," Astarion pressed his index finger to his lips. His other hand came up to cover the little bit of your sideboob that was peeking out at the world. Respectfully tho, no touching at all. Just hovering above it.

Gale, Shadowheart and Karlach stared at the spectacle before them.

"What? I finally got to use my cold bloodedness for good," Astarion said proudly. "See how I'm becoming a goody two shoes like the rest of you? I'll be concidered a hero in no time!"

Ignoring him Shadowheart crouched down and felt your forhead with the back of her hand. Than your cheeks. "I hate to admit it, but you cured her," she stood up, "no fever at all."

"It could be temporary though," Gale pointed out, "as soon as Astarion stops...hugging her, her temperature will shoot right back up."

"All the more reason for me to keep holding her. An excelent observation wizard."

Gale frowned but said nothing. He did walk into his own trap there after all.

Karlach tapped the corc closing the vial. "What do we do with this then? Since Fangs has cured her on his own."

"We could store it for worse times. Or we could get high as hells from it. I did read it has different effects on healthy bodies," Shadowheart thought out loud while examining the potion in her hand.

"I wote for number two," Gale's arm shot up.

"I wholeheartedly concur," Karlach joined.

"Me too," Astarion held up his hand as well.

Shadowheart kissed her teeth. "No fun times for you. You need to be in full consciousness in case your patient gets worse."

Disapointed, Astarion let his hand fall back between your shoulderblades. "I guess that's a small price for having her body blissfully cliging to mine," he smirked at Gale.

"Get your fill while you can," the wizard said and took the vial from Shadowheart's hand. "When she's healthy again no right mind would want to cling to a piece of ice."

With that he stomped out.

"Thankfully, none of us are in their right mind in any time of the day," he smiled and like a cat that got its treat nuzzled his head ontop of yours.

"I do have one request," Shaodheart said before she could exit the tent. "Get out of my tent. I finally want to sleep."

"Oh, how lovely of you to say that, kicking out a caretaker with his patient out into the wilderness," carefully he stood up, his hands supporting your legs wrapped around his waist, "with no weapon whatsoever," he walked passed her out of her tent, "how much cruel can you be."

"Even more if you don't stop whining."

Astarion couldn't care less to shoot her a sarcastic remark back. You stirred in his embrace. He stopped in his tracks, ready to pull you back into present in case you slipped again. None of that was needed. You only snaked your arms around his neck and sighed his name into his neck, your breath tickling the two bite scars on the side of it.

And while Lae'zel and Wyll that have just returned from their own mission dealt with their three companions getting higher than the ceiling, back in your tent Astarion has been getting hits of his very own drug. You.

And he has already become way too addicted.

#astarion fluff #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #spawn astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 fic #baldur's gate 3 fluff

70 notes · View notes

jjscrybaby · 7 hours ago

Text

jj maybank x sweetheart!reader | hurt & comfort | (gun violence, anxious!reader, comforting!jj.)

this is based on season 1 episode 1 but i did get the idea to write it from @blueheron15 !! i’m gonna write more scenes from the show with this pairing i think but as always keep sending reqs!

i went back and changed some things to do with sarah and john b in the first thing i posted for sweetheart!reader because i want it all to make sense timeline wise so it wouldn’t add up for reader to meet jj through sarah!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶ ��♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

The entire day had felt like torture for you. The others had enjoyed themselves, a day of adventure and excitement which you hadn’t all felt for a while, you felt the opposite. All of it was too much, the gun, the money, the dead body showing up. It was too much, maybe that’s why you’d agreed to the kegger so easily. Getting drunk can do nothing but calm you down.

“Okay, baby?” JJ asked softly as you came and sat down on his lap halfway through the night.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sipping on your bitter beer; there weren’t any other options and you weren’t in a complaining mood.

“Yeah? Why you lookin’ at me all grumpy then, huh?” He teased, poking your cheek.

You pretended to bite his finger, causing him to let out a mock gasp which had you giggling in his arms. He smiled sweetly at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Just an overwhelming day.”

“Yeah, but it was fun,” JJ replied.

“For you.”

“Maybe, but you had fun earlier when we were on the boat. And I know you liked bein’ pressed up against me on the ledge,” he teased, making your cheeks heat up at the memory.

“Shut it, Jayj. Didn’t have a choice, you forced me to come along,” you pouted.

He ran his finger over your lip, mocking you with the same expression. “C’mon, cheer up baby. Nothin’ else out of the ordinary is gonna happen, okay? We’re just havin’ a drink with our friends, and people we hate.” He pointed to the group of Kooks on the far end of the beach.

“Sarah’s nice,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Is she?” He’d never really heard you talk about her, all he knew was what Kiara had told him about her so he assumed that meant that you weren’t a fan of the blonde also.

“She hangs out with me at school sometimes. Kie doesn’t mind, I already checked,” you explained. JJ smiled softly at you, of course you’d made sure Kiara was okay with you talking to Sarah. You were just too sweet.

“She hangs with you at school?” JJ knew you weren’t a huge fan of school. A lot of the Kook’s used to take advantage of your kindness, and that lead to him having some serious conversations with them. No one bothers you anymore, but most also don’t make an effort to even get to know you.

You nodded your head, sipping your drink again. You weren’t feeling the buzz that you wanted. “We eat lunch together sometimes, or, like, we partner up for projects.”

“That’s nice, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your temple.

It was nice, and that was probably why later that night, when he’d had enough drinks to last a lifetime, he offered Sarah his spare drink. He meant no harm, he was just happy that someone at school was making you happy. It only took a minute for things to go wrong.

John B had saved JJ from a fight with Topper, something that’s happened more times than he could count, but Topper just had to have the last word. “Dirty Pogues!” It had sent John B reeling, turning around to shove him.

From there, it just spiralled. One moment Topper was winning, the next John B was, and soon enough the Kook had one of your best friend’s heads held under water.

“He’s drowning him!” Pope exclaimed.

JJ saw red. You watched as the blonde rushed over, and then the click of the gun safety echoed through your ears. That damn gun. It was held to Topper’s head, everyone seemed to freeze as they realised what was going on.

“Yeah, you know what that is. Your move, broski,” you could hear JJ threaten.

You were frozen. On one hand, you weren’t sure he had much other choice? If he hadn’t stepped in then there’s a high likelihood Topper wouldn’t have stopped until John B was dead. On the other hand, he was holding a gun to someone’s head; that spoke for itself.

The crowd dispersed, terrified of the mad man with the gun, leaving just your group of friends and Sarah and Kelce to deal with the aftermath.

“JJ! Put the gun down,” Sarah pleaded.

“Did you say somethin’, Princess?” JJ asked, not even turning to look at her.

“We’re good, we’re good,” Topper exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender as he slowly started to stand up.

“Kie! Can you check your psycho friend, please?” You didn’t necessarily like Sarah calling JJ a psycho, but he was sort of acting like one. You’d be the same if it was Topper holding a gun to JJ’s head; you’d probably be worse.

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!” JJ yelled, holding the gun in the air as he shot it off twice.

That was what did it. The waterworks were set off and you started to panic. You weren’t scared of JJ, you were scared for him. He just fired a gun, he could go to jail! You couldn’t help but to start crying as the overwhelming situation took over.

“Are you crazy? You idiot!” Pope exclaimed as both him and Kiara shoved JJ. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s not worth it!” Kie added.

“I’m saying his life, okay?” JJ argued.

It took only a few seconds for him to look at you. He was expecting you to be angry, not crying.

“You’re gonna jeopardise everything!” Pope carried on, but JJ wasn’t listening to the lecture anymore.

“Hey, hey, baby.” JJ rushed to your side, cupping your face in his hands. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you whispered, afraid of Pope and Kiara’s reactions to what you were worried about.

JJ’s eyebrows furrowed, he grabbed your hand in his as Kie and Pope ran over to help John B. He dragged you — gently — down the beach and away from the still lingering party-goers. His hands found your waist, tugging you so you were chest to chest.

“You don’t gotta worry about me getting in trouble, okay?” He soothed, stroking your hair.

“I don’t want you to go to jail!” You argued, sobs still leaving your mouth just at the thought.

“Alright, alright.” He was trying his best to not let the amusement show on his face. He couldn’t help it, you were just so cute. “No one’s going to jail, okay? I promise. I’m fine. Now, do you want to stand here crying or do you want to go home?”

“With you?” You checked, wiping the tears from your face.

He smiled down at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Yeah, sweetheart. With me.”

#sweetheart!reader #jj maybank #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine #obx

86 notes · View notes

sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth · 2 days ago

Text

You better make it soon before you break my heart (Sam Winchester x female reader)

You and Sam get drunk together and Dean plays cupid.

Find it on AO3

Rated T. 3.3k words. Drunk Sam. Margaritas. Crushes. Flirting. Drunk dancing. Dean being a good brother. First kiss.

“What do you think would happen if we started adding margaritas into this?” you ask, already struggling with the word margarita.

“I think—I think that we would probably die,” Sam says.

“Pff,” you say. “Don’t be a baby, Winchester. You can’t live life one foot in, one foot out.”

You’re not totally sure what you mean, but it sounds good. Sam blinks at you, narrows his eyes, making him look more drunk that he already does, with those slightly flushed cheeks and the way his usually so controlled movements are now all over the place.

He looks so good that it almost sobers you up, so you take another big sip of your drink to make sure that doesn’t happen.

You make a face at the strong whiskey taste. You want something nicer, something sweeter. Like Sam? your brain, the mischievous asshole, adds.

Yes, like Sam. Exactly like Sam.

He speaks, breaking you out of your little daydream. “If we drink margaritas now, the only thing we’ll be half foot in is the emergency room.”

It takes you a second and then you chuckle. It’s clever. Sam’s clever.

You lean forward on the table and maybe stare at him a little too intently. He catches your eye, and then looks away quickly. “You’re funny, Sam,” you say, still looking at him. He has the audacity to blush a little, shrugs those big, broad man shoulders of his.

You want to say more. You want to say that he’s beautiful and kind and sweet and so smart and that sometimes he makes you feel like you’re floating, like a cartoon character that’s smelling a pie.

Luckily just then, the waitress comes over. “Can I get you two anything else?” she says, and you throw Sam a look, wiggle your eyebrows.

He sighs, defeated, and orders two margaritas.

Dean finds you about an hour later. You and Sam aren’t sloppy drunk but definitely giggly drunk. You are holding on to your half empty glass and leaning to the side because Sam has said something so adorable and goofy that you are now laughing so hard it hurts your ribs.

Sam is laughing too, a little bashful but then it’s turning into real, actual laughter and it’s the most wonderful sound in the world. It’s so rare to hear him like that. Too rare.

Dean walks up to the table like an annoyed parent who has to pick up his kid from a sleepover because they ate too much candy and then barfed everywhere.

Sam sees him a second later, nods at him, but even though you both sort of recover you’re still giggling.

“How’d it go?” Sam asks, and he’s definitely slurring a little bit, the grin on his face wide.

You want to kiss it. The face and the grin.

Dean sits down, eyeing you both a little suspiciously. “It was fine,” he says, “but the county sheriff is pretty useless. I think he’s a drunk. But then,” he makes a sarcastic face, “looks like he’s not alone in that.”

You know he’s just trying to be a reasonable but you don’t need this buzz kill right now. You can already see Sam starting to feel bad that he was out having fun while Dean was working, but that only happened because Sam finished his research so fast and Dean was slow, because he was busy flirting with that one witness at the station.

No, you’re not gonna let him suck the fun out of tonight.

“Boooh,” you say then push your glass towards him. “Drink and be merry, Dean,” you say and Sam chuckles.

Dean looks down at the drink, a little disgusted. “It has a salted rim,” you say to him, cocking your head. “You loooove that.”

Sam bursts out laughing. You’re not even sure what you said and then you realize the double meaning. Oopsie. But Sam’s laugh is so infectious that you just go along with it.

Dean rolls his eyes pointedly. To make up for it, you raise your arm, wave over the waitress. She joins you, Dean turning around to give her an appreciative look.

“Hi there,” you say, as if you are talking to her for the first time tonight. “Could you please get my friend here the most boring, adult drink you have, please?” you ask her.

Dean smiles at her, already flirting. “Whiskey neat is fine. And I wouldn't mind getting your number as well.”

You look over at Sam, who widens his eyes, looks at you. You’re both used to Dean flirting shamelessly, but that’s fast, even for him.

The waitress returns the smile, checks him out a little. “Coming up,” she says, walks away, looking back to make sure Dean is looking after her. He is, of course.

“Jeez,” you mumble, “get a room.” Dean turns back, looks at you.

“Look who’s talking,” he says and you can feel the violent blush in your face. You hope it’s not as visible under the dimmed light of the bar as it feels, but you can’t be sure.

Dean is kind enough to change the topic, starts talking more about the sheriff and the lack of information he found. You take your drink back from him, taking a big sip and chance a look at Sam. It looks like he didn’t notice. Thank God.

Dean doesn’t officially know about your crush on Sam, but he’s not an idiot, as much as he might sometimes act like one. He doesn’t miss the longing looks you throw his younger brother, how you react like you’re stung by a jellyfish every time Sam touches you, or how once, when a witness was throwing herself at him and Sam didn’t seem totally disinterested, you might have snuck to the bathroom to sniffle a little.

Sam on the other hand seems completely oblivious, which is good and bad at the same time. Good because you’re pretty sure if he were to find out and not feel the same way about you the embarrassment would kill you on the spot. Bad because on the off chance that he does like you that way, he sure as hell isn’t going to be making the first step, not if he’s not absolutely sure you like him back. And you would never tell him because, well, all of the above. Which means it’s unlikely that anything will come of it.

So you drink and talk and geek together, sharing secrets and talking about things you’ve never talked to anyone else about, and you’re pretty sure neither has Sam. And you don’t cuddle or kiss or touch or do any of the other things you would like to do with Sam. No, sir.

You all finish your drinks, Dean scores the waitress’s number and then you’re stepping out into the warm summer evening.

You get into the Impala, you climb into the back without breaking your neck, and Dean starts driving you back to the motel.

Sam plays around with the radio until he finds a station, while you roll down one of the back windows.

“Are you gonna be sick?” Dean asks, glaring at you in the rearview mirror.

“Noo, just like the air, air’s nice,” you say, leaning your head so the night air is hitting your face. It feels amazing, and just when you think you probably can’t feel any better, the station Sam found starts playing Fleetwood Mac.

“Hell yeah,” you say, raising both hands over your head, crossing them there. You hum along, watch the dark country roads go by.

After a minute you look forward again, just to see Sam’s head turning away quickly. Did you just catch him look at you? No, surely not?

You sink a little deeper into the seat.

It doesn’t take long after that to arrive at the motel. You get out, swaying a little. The three of you start walking towards your room, when Dean suddenly stops in his tracks. He licks his lip, then half turns back to the car.

“Actually, I think I left that waitress's number at the bar,” he says. No, he didn’t. You saw him pocket it when you walked out.

You’re about to say exactly that, when he throws Sam the room keys in a high arch. Sam doesn’t catch them, has to bend down to pick them up, and for a second you think he’ll topple. You lay a hand on his arm, which is probably not very helpful, but it’s an excuse to touch him.

“Gotta go back,” Dean says, shrugging, a bit of a grin on his face.

“Dean,” you start, then hiccup a little, and continue. “I’m sure you’ll score another number in the next town.”

But Dean’s already on his way back to the Impala. He turns around as he's about to get in, and now he's full on grinning. "Yeah," he says, "but she could be the one. Gotta be sure. You have to be brave to find love." And then he winks at you and a second later, you and Sam are standing in a whirl of dust left behind by the Impala.

Sam waves his hand in front of his face, coughing a little. Meanwhile you are trying not to scream.

What the hell did Dean mean by that? Brave to find love? You turn to Sam, the internal screaming momentarily under control.

Sam looks down at you. He has the cutest little pout on him. "Inside?" he asks, like it's a full sentence. You nod. Inside.

The walk to the room is short but it allows you to think about what Dean was insinuating.

It would be cruel, what he's suggesting, if he doesn't at least think there's a chance that Sam likes you back, and Dean is many things, but he is not cruel. At least not normally. That means that he knows something, or suspects something.

Your head is spinning and it's not just from the alcohol. Suddenly you're terrified.

You make it to the room, and Sam unlocks it. It only takes him three tries. He's so graceful.

You are leaning against the door frame while he wrangles the door. When it swings open, he looks at you, all proud smiles. Despite your nervousness, you smile back, slap his arm.

"You are, like, a master at opening doors. Amazing form. Ten points."

He nods. "I do unlock a lot of doors," he says, and then holds his arm out to signal for you to go in before him.

You do, walk in, and then, because suddenly you don't know what to do and you're hyper aware of the situation, you just kind of stand there in the middle of the room.

Sam walk in behind you, throwing closed the door behind him and plops down on the bed, face first.

You turn to him and it gives you too good of a view of his body, so you mumble "gotta use the bathroom," and rush off.

You close the door behind you and sit on the closed toilet seat. Okay. Breath.

There's no reason to be nervous. You are alone with Sam, which you have been a million times. You are drunk with Sam, alone, and it's not a big deal.

Except that Dean said that stuff about having to be brave to find love. Did he mean you need to be brave to find love? Did he mean with Sam? Or was he just talking out of his ass and your drunk brain is cooking something up that's not really there?

You sigh. Goddamn, this is really killing your buzz. It's fine. It's better to not do anything you might regret. Tomorrow, when you're sobered up and hungover, you can go back to interpreting Dean's cryptic messages. But tonight you just want to have fun, just for a little longer.

You walk out and Sam's still lying on the bed. You think he might be passed out for a second, but then he raises one hand where it's lying on the bed next to him, giving a thumbs up. "All good," he says, not opening his eyes. "Jus' resting my face."

You can't help but chuckle at that and all the lovey dovey feelings come rushing back, replacing your anxiety. You just want to have a fun drunk night with Sam. If nothing else ever comes of it, you're still damn lucky.

So, to rally the troops, you take out your phone, turn the sound all the way up, and start playing the song you heard in the car, "Everywhere". It starts with that weird tingly noise, and you use that time to walk over to Sam, kicking off your shoes without any major mishaps, and then lean on his back with both arms, and shake him a little.

He makes a noise that's a mixture of a grunt and something you've only ever heard donkeys make.

"No shaking, please," he says, frowning.

"Then get up," you say. "You get up, and no more shaking."

The song starts properly now and you start dancing a little, because it's just too good. Sam finally gets up, kind of. He turns around, leaning up on one elbow.

"Come on, Sam," you say. "Let's dance the drunk out."

He laughs, even though he still looks sleepy. And then he watches you for a moment, and his face becomes incredibly serious.

You stop your dancing. "What?" you ask, and you think he's going to say something horrible.

"Nothin'," he says, and his voice is kind of quiet. "You're just pretty."

A not entirely unpleasant shock goes through you. Pretty.

You try to recover, wave him off. "You're very drunk, Sam," you say and then, because you think if he looks at you for a second longer you'll burst into flames, you jump on the bed without warning.

He ducks his head, scoots out of the way so he doesn't get trampled. You start bouncing on the bed to the beat of the music, doing something with your arms, you're not even sure what.

You sing along loudly to the "I want to be with you everywhere," and the meaning of the words doesn't really reach your brain, because you point at Sam while singing them. It's just your entertainer persona, or what some people would call very limited dance moves, that makes you point at him.

You pull your arm back immediately. Yikes. To cover, you pretend you were just trying to get Sam to dance. "Come on, get up, we are not losing to margaritas! We're stronger than that!"

Sam actually gets up then, and while what he does can't really be called dancing, he is at least moving his body.

You woohoo in his direction, and pick up your own dancing again. Then you make the mistake of trying to take a step to the side, forgetting that you are not on solid ground, but on a cheap motel bed. You foot gets tangled in the thin comforter.

You're gonna fall off this bed and break your neck, you just know it.

But you don't, because there's Sam. He's stepped closer to the bed and is holding you by the waist. You don't fall. You don't die.

You're on the bed and he's standing on the floor, so you're half a head taller than him currently. You're also really, really close to him, and oh yeah, there's the whole hands-on-waist thing.

You swallow. "Thanks," you say, but it comes out quiet and a little cracked. Sam smiles up at you, a little unsure. He could let you go now, but he doesn't. He keeps holding you.

Your brain is desperately trying to find something to say, something to make this not awkward, something to make you stop thinking about Sam's lips so close to yours, the beauty mark next to his nose that you want to touch, his smell, his big hands on you.

What you come up with is this: "Gee, I really get this whole being tall thing now. It's nice." It's one of the more stupid things you've said, but Sam still smiles at it.

"Has its advantages," he says, and then he's looking into your eyes and you're looking into his.

Sam's breathing a little harder. You lean in a little closer because he is so damn magnetic. Somewhere far away the song is starting over.

He clears his throat. "I really want to kiss you," he says.

Jesus, Mary, Joseph and David Bowie.

"I want you to want to kiss me," you reply, and you have just enough working brain cells left to correct yourself. "I want you to kiss me."

He nods. Then suddenly he looks unsure. "But," he says, and you think no, no buts, no buts please, I will start an anti-buts movement, before he continues: "I don't want it to, you know, be like this, I think. I don't want us to regret it in the morning. Or forget it."

"I won't regret it," you say, maybe a little too fast. "And I don't think I'll forget it, either." Because how could you? How could you forget something like that?

Sam nods again, still looking into your eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Super sure," you say, nodding as well. And then, because sometimes your brain does come up with good ideas, you add: "Plus, we could just kiss again tomorrow. That way we won't forget what it's like."

Now Sam is grinning, and from this close it's even better, even more breathtaking. It shows off his dimples and because you're already in too deep, you move your hands up, one landing on his shoulder, one on his cheek, your thumb close to that little valley in his face that shows up when he's happy.

"Okay," Sam says, and you say it as well.

And then he is pulling you in, very, very slowly, like he's expecting you to change your mind halfway in.

You lick your lips, just a little, because you realize your mouth has gone incredibly dry.

And then you're kissing Sam. His eyes close and so do yours. His lips are soft and there's still a hint of salt on them from the drinks. It's perfect.

Your heart is beating so hard than you're sure he must hear it. His one hand leaves your waist, and his arm goes around you, holds you there.

You take your one hand off his shoulder and cup his face with that one as well, because you've never gotten to touch his face like that before.

Sam breaks the kiss, eventually. Your eyes stay closed and it's a good thing he's holding you. You might fall off the bed otherwise anyway, margaritas or no margaritas.

You can tell he's looking at you, so you blink your eyes open. He has a slight smile on his face.

"Can I kiss you again?" he asks. You don't bother saying yes. You pull his face close to yours and do it.

This kiss is a little different. Where the first one was soft and sweet and careful, this one feels a little more raunchy. Sam's breathing out through his nose as if to contain himself, and it's so goddamn sexy. He's pulling you closer and you're pulling him closer, and then suddenly your tongues are meeting and you actually moan a little. You can feel him smile at that. Yeah, you won't forget that.

And then you can hear the Impala pulling up outside. Looks like Dean struck out.

Sam unleashes your lips and you lean down, lay your forehead against his. His hand goes up and strokes your cheek.

"Tomorrow?" he asks, and you nod against him. "Tomorrow."

You're not sure what it means, but it's a promise. A promise you're happy to keep.

I want to be with you everywhere, Christine McVie sings and you couldn't agree more.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #fan fiction #spn #supernatural #first kiss #crush #dancing #fleetwood mac #songfic #dean being a good brother #drinking #Spotify

59 notes · View notes

sometimesanalice · 2 days ago

Text

Jordan! 💌 All the ring pops for you!

and more under the cut!

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. - this is such a good visual like i know exactly the kind of vibe she’s going for 🥰 the ivory cardigan is such a cute touch too! the poor thing tho because i know exactly what it’s like to feel out of place-- I think she partly wanted to have fun with it, but also it was a kind of unintentional litmus test, because any guy who doesn't appreciate the effort isn't worth her time. And there's feeling good at home and then there's being out in public, and when she realize just how out of place she was, well, oof. The cardigan was a last minute addition because I looked at the weather and was like, oh that's cold, lmao. although I'm sure a certain someone would have given her his coat!

It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances. - no because it is kind of camp in a way-- omg sooo camp! I was looking at the art direction for new things to include and like jars of shells? the model planes? the plaques and patches and stickers and bouys? like penny said MORE IS MORE

Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. - lieutenant commander cow eyes at your service 🫡 -- he knows to lead with his strengths

There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release. - sighhhhhh 🥰 that’s bradley for you--the sweetest boy!!

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement. - yeah because he’s pretty-- genuinely SO pretty. more people need to get with the program and call him pretty. 2025 is for making men blush!

“Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.” Oh. - well then 🤭 i’d be doing way more than an italicized oh 🤭-- it was a good thing she was sitting because I think her knees would have given out there. you'd catch me on the FLOOR

“Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.” // Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret. - oh my god this would absolutely work on me wow he’s so cute and sweet and clearly he’s flirting, but it’s not like it’s rehearsed if that makes sense?-- like his default is charming? and not in a smarmy way? what I liked the most about it is he never tries to gloss over it, or pretend she's not there in the most done up way on valentines, like he leans into it too. I like that he puts her at ease by meeting her where she's at, she's doing the most with her outfit, but he's doing the most with his gestures.

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.” - bubs please! rein in the charm!-- he knew EXACTLY what he was doing!

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. - oh sweet girl! 🥺 i liked this part in the little teaser you posted too!-- i think she's usually the type to look at things in advance, and this was the one time she didn't by looking up the bar and just kind of going with the flow. that she's been bitten by that decision once already, now she's a little nervous to kind of blindly order without knowing what's offered even though- yeah, it's a bar, they probably have something like that- and worried she'll embarrass herself again.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. - HES SO CUTE STOP!!!-- HE IS DOING THE MOST! I love how he's like all gas no brake with the flirting.

“But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar. - GOODBYE 404’ing-- after that night he might be singing a different tune, if anything he's going to be like pink is a shade of red since it's mixed with white so like why pick. lol

…before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat. - ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US-- the babes in the group chat are LOSING their MINDS you just know it!!

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself. - mmmmmmm something about this mmmmm-- the focus! the concentration! it's a gooood look on him

You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left - HOT HOT HOT LEFTIE-- is it a kink? i think it's a kink. because it does it for me.

Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.” - FUCK RIGHT OFF WITH THIS!!!! (also her wanting to take it off and keep it is so 🥰)-- she's his valentine! of course he's going to get (read: make) her a little something!! he's tactile that one! COMPETENT! a man of many skill! but I know! she's so smitten over this little gesture that she is like, "I'll cry if condensation makes it turn to mush". so you know she was holding her glass in the left hand and being careful because it's getting a spot in her jewelry box!

Bradley hooks a foot under your stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. - oh hell yes-- he has so many moves, but this is the hottest i think

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. // The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. - BYEEEEEE-- your song choice for the win! i love it being A Thing, the idea amused me to no end!

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all. - IT IS A FORWARD MOVE 🤭 i have butterflies-- SO FORWARD! like a hand, sure. but going straight to the waist like that?! oh hello, ok! i'm sure he was reading her face the entire time too like, too much too soon? but he's so smooth and hands are in a respectful spot, like I wouldn't mind either!

You like saying his name too much to shorten it. - i love this so much awwww-- please know it made me shrivel and die on the inside to write 'bradbrad' (even now you should see my face), but i liked her trying out something and then being like nope, because it's a GOOD name. also!! i purposefully left out his rooster moniker because I wanted her learning he is a pilot to be a surprise that came from his little hinge profile he made just for her (which i don't think i made obvious in my haste to publish, but that's my hc).

It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. - this is such a big thing! i love how you worded this!-- it's another way he's kind of taking her under his arm, like that's his bar and his spot, so not only is he being a proper gentleman taking over the introduction, it's another way he's easing her into the space and helping her to be comfortable there. i tried to make the difference between the body language of how she hides away in the beginning, like how hastily can she get out of the view of people, vs how leisurely she took her time walking the pool table before she takes her first shot. and it's because he's made her feel comfortable to be there now.

You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. - wait that’s so cute 🥰 also your pool knowledge is very impressive!!-- lmaoooooo, i got paid to read reddit, i'm not mad. it's still gibberish but i'm glad it sounds official, hahaahaha becasue YOU KNOW. but I thought it was sweet of him to try and play fast, because I think he does like to take time to ponder his moves. but it was something i was really trying to be conscious of when writing him even asking if he could play the game, because I didn't want him to seem rude? like 'come with, i have to play this game', but wanted to set it up in a way where jake would be annoying about it all night, and he really does want to focus on her. so it was something i waffled with for a bit trying to get the vibe right.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. - HOT this whole set up is so good-- that short skirt, i mean! like it was a valid ask, but both of them are definitely thinking about how good she looks bent over in front of him, lmao. but also I love him being like, respectful but also like holy shit.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you. - DRAG HIS ASS-- he's like, you couldn't let it go! and now you're going to pay up, I have a date to attend to!

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. - THIS IS SO CUTE!!! SHE SURPRISED HIM!!!-- She has some move of her own!! cheeky girl!

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT! (one might even say progressive)-- not as iconic as asking during sex, but she can rest easy now knowing he's a feminist, lol

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.) - oh my god oh my god this is so smooth but also cute and earnest at the same time!!! and he sent a rose!!!-- ofc he sent it with a rose! she was also the second profile to pop up as as most compatible match, which he proudly tells her on their second date! i liked that he had her number, but was like, but what if I take this a step further. we love a man with initiative!

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in.

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own. “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it. But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#a novella for you jordan! hc and tidbits for you!#the babe with the big move

896 notes · View notes

dismalflo · 2 days ago

Text

All this time

James potter x fem!reader who have been oblivious to each others feelings ✩ 1.2k words

cw; Idiots in love, mutual pining, fluff

an; first james fic!! my requests are open

If the mark of a smart man was knowing when he was defeated, then James Potter was the smartest man on earth. When it came to you he was utterly defeated, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

‘Oi Prongs! Stop staring at the poor girl, you'll scare her off.’ Sirius teases stopping the trance James seemed to be in. He would like it noted he wasn’t staring, he was gazing. It sounds much more romantic that way he thought.

A rough, but familiar arm drapes over his shoulders as James turns to reply only to be met with Sirius’ knowing smirk, taunting him. He’s never been able to hide from or lie to Sirius.

‘Oh god, I’m fucked.’ James moans, putting his head in his hands to avoid Sirius’ laugh.

‘You need to pull yourself together, mate. This is embarrassing even for you.’ A hard slap on the back and Sirius slinks away back to Remus’ lap. A part of him wishes it was Remus that caught him, at least he gives some advice before walking away laughing.

He glances over at the boys, only to be met with Remus’ encouraging nod towards you which he promptly ignores.

Before he was caught, James was observing you standing in the kitchen of Sirius and Remus’ flat talking to Lily and Marlene, you’d all sat down for the first time in forever to eat a good meal, have a drink and catch up with each other. He’s surrounded by all the people he loves, and yet when he thinks of who he wants the attention of his head just says; you, you, you.

For a while James tried flirting with you, but you never reciprocated or seemed to take notice of it, so the only thing James can think is that you really don’t like him and that you might even find him bothersome. He's okay with fancying you from afar now, he's used to it.

He perks up again when he hears the sound of your laughter, looking up he sees Lily whispering something in your ear and the next thing he knows you’re looking directly at him. Oh shit. He's been caught and you’re going to think he's terribly creepy and never talk to him again. Oh fuck.

He looks back down at the beer in his hand, as he tries to get the blush painting his cheeks under control. The next thing he knows there's a gentle hand tapping his shoulder, and looking up he sees the wonderful angel of a girl, you, who is surely here to let him down gently. You’re too kind to be mean about his obvious pining, he thinks.

‘Can we go have a chat?’ you say in the sweet tone you always seem to have.

He nods, trying to act casual, his heart clenching. This was it, he could already picture the awkward, pitying look in your eyes as you explained how sorry you were that you didn't return his feelings.

He stands up, forcing a smile, and follows you into the other room, not before sending a pleading glance at Sirius to be saved. You turn to face him, your expression unreadable. You seem fidgety, almost nervous?

‘So,’ you start, voice a little hesitant. ‘Lily said something earlier and I thought it was a joke, but she said I should ask you about it.’

‘Oh, what did she say?’ His voice was shaking with nerves.

You shift your weight on your feet, biting your lip. “It was about… you, actually. And me.”

"Oh." He nods, gaze pinned on the wall unwilling to meet your eyes. "Right. Okay." James is begging for you to get this over with, in his head.

You hesitate for a moment, and James looks up to find you watching him intently, your eyes searching his. ‘She said that you fancy me? And I wanted to know if it was true or if she’s just teasing me.’

‘Why would she be teasing you about that?’ James can't help but think this must be a joke at his expense and he definitely doesn't like this one.

‘Well… i think it's quite obvious that i've fancied you forever James.’

James feels like the floor drops out from under him. His brain stops processing, and for a few seconds, he’s sure he’s just imagining it. He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. He’s sure this is a joke, a cruel one at that. His brain catches up and he remembers that you wouldn't be so cruel, neither would any of his friends in the other room.

‘You... you do?’ he finally manages, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud might break whatever spell has been cast on the moment.

You nod, a soft awkward smile tugging at your lips, and he swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest. ‘Yeah... I don’t know, you’re just so kind and sweet and pretty.’ You sigh, running a hand through your hair, clearly frustrated with yourself.

James realises all at once that he has been so incredibly wrong, so blind, this is ridiculous.

He can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, but as soon as he sees the look on your face—your eyes wide, a little hurt, and confused—he immediately regrets it.

‘Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,’ he stammers, his hands instinctively reaching for your shoulders, his fingers brushing the soft fabric of your shirt. ‘I didn’t mean to laugh like that. I just... I can’t believe it, that’s all. I’ve been such an idiot. I like you too. A lot. You never seem to like it when I try to flirt with you.’

You bite your lip, nodding, but James can see the hesitation in your eyes. He feels a pang of guilt, wishing he could take back the stupid laugh.

‘I—I just thought you’d never notice me like that. I’m always so... all over the place, and I thought maybe you thought I was annoying or... I don’t know,’ his voice drops and he sounds unsure of himself now, so different to the James Potter you know.

‘James’ you whisper, your hand gently covering his, the warmth of your skin grounding him. ‘I never thought you were annoying. I thought you were... funny and smart and so kind. I just didn’t know how to—well, I thought you were just joking around with me. I didn’t want to make things weird if that's all it was.’

He takes a step closer, moving one hand from your shoulder to your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the stray hair there. ‘I can’t believe this. You’ve liked me all this time?’ He repeats, still in disbelief.

You nod slowly, and it’s like the weight of everything you’ve both been avoiding comes crashing down on him. The relief that floods through his chest is almost overwhelming. He looks at you with all the adoration he's been trying to hide these past few months.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he whispers, those words only meant for your ears. Your gaze softens as you step closer to him, tilting your chin up, inviting.

‘Yes please.’

#flo'sfics #marauders fics #marauders au #marauders era #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fic #james potter fluff

102 notes · View notes

qrrieterisunnq · 1 day ago

Text

Amara's Valentine's Challenge - Jack Hughes

strawberry girl masterlist

JACK!HUGHES X AMARA!JAMES — WARNINGS: nothing just sweet pure content — SUMMARY: Amara challenges Jack to a “best Valentine’s gift” contest. Jack goes all out with a surprise dinner, personalized gifts, and even some cheesy romantic gestures. Amara, caught off guard by how much effort he puts in, realizes there’s more to his feelings than just competition. — WORD COUNT: 3,0 — AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am so sorry it took so long!! But school was hell last and this week and I just didn't have time. But I hope you'll like it!! PART OF STRAWBERRY GIRL AU

“I love you too mom,” Jack sighed with a shit-eating grin on his face. His phone was resting on his chest as he lay on the sofa.

“Tell Amara I love her and to call me as soon as she gets home.” Ellen’s voice was full of love as she said those words.

“I will mom. Bye! I’ll call tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay, bye, love you.” Jack could hear the love in her voice as she said them.

“Bye.” With that, he ended the call, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. It was a long, really long day and all he wanted was a hot bath with Amara and then cuddles until they both fell asleep.

But with Amara still gone in a shop, he lay on a couch and decided to wait for her.

It wasn’t until an hour later when Amara finally got home with bags hanging from her hands. When Jack and Luke spotted her, they shot up to their feet to take those bags away from her and let her rest for a while.

“Enjoyed shopping, Berry?” Luke asked her with a grin as he sorted the groceries from the bags.

“Not exactly, too many people there.” She sighed, leaning her head against the headrest on the sofa.

“You know I would have gone with you if you’d asked, love,” Jack called from the kitchen while putting the groceries in the freezer and fridge.

“I know, but you had practice, and I didn’t want to tire you even more.” She called back, crossing her legs under her and massaging her temple.

“Anyway, mom is saying hi, that she loves you and you are supposed to call her.”

“I will, but right now I need to get some rest.” She smiled when she saw Jack and Luke entering the living room.

“Jackyyy?” Amara sang her boyfriend’s name through his room while she was lying on his bed.

“Berryyy?” he mocked her, his head peaking from his bathroom door.

“I have an idea,” she grinned when she heard the faint sigh coming from the bathroom. Jack walked out with a toothbrush in his mouth and rested his shoulder against the doorframe. He nodded his head signaling for her to start speaking.

“You know Valentine’s Day is in ten days, and I was thinking,” she paused to take a breath because sometimes she forgets to breathe when she speaks. “What about a little contest? Between you and me. About whom will have the better gift.” She suggested, playing with the hem of her shirt nervously. “But we don’t have to.”

Jack looked at her with a soft smile, his hand still moving the toothbrush in his mouth. “No, I want to. It is a nice idea.” he grinned with toothpaste in his mouth. Amara squealed in happiness, clapping quietly her hands.

“But so, you know. I will win!” he grinned at her and then returned to the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

“No way! I am a winner!” she called after him, throwing the duvet over her.

The days flew by, and Valentine’s Day was behind the door. While Amara already had Jack’s gift at Nico’s place for a few weeks and was now waiting for the rest to come so she could wrap them, Jack decided to take it differently.

Of course, he bought her gifts, which are now in Lukey’s room, but he wanted to do something she would not forget. That is why he is standing in the Prudential Center with Nico, Luke, and Jesper, preparing the date for them. Because of the Four Nations, Jack had to leave just like Jesper, so he wanted to prepare in time.

The good thing was that there weren’t any games on Valentine’s Day, so Jack could return to New Jersey to celebrate it and then leave for Montreal the next morning.

He had arranged with a restaurant that they would prepare food for them, just for Nico to pick it up and deliver it to the Center.

“Okay so I was thinking about a red heart made of rose petals somewhere in the middle of the ice with a table, where you would then bring the food,” Jack grinned as he looked at Nico, who smirked at him.

“Oh, wait until you see what I have planned to wear,” Nico responded grinning widely.

“Can wait to see,” Jack laughed and pulled out a bag with rose petals. “Okay, shall we start?”

“Yeah, let's get into it.” They nodded in unison and got into work. After an hour and a half, they were finished and headed home. When Jack and Luke entered the apartment Amara was nowhere to be found, only the bright red note she put on the fridge.

Left for a class. Will come later have something to do.Love you both!- Berry

“Wanna play something?” Luke suggested as he opened the fridge getting out two cans of Diet Coke.

“Why not.” Jack shrugged, popping onto a couch, and making himself comfortable.

“Thank you again, Nico,” Ara smiled at him, while she sat on his couch, packing the gift for Jack.

“No problem, Berry,” he responded and sat down beside her. “You know you are always welcome.” He nudged her foot with his chuckling when she sent a glare his way.

“Oh, don’t you by any chance know what did Jack plan?”

“By any chance, I do not know,” She chuckles at her question, knowing damn well that she is nervous about it. “I’ll put on some film, what do you think? I am kinda tired.”

“Sure,” smiling she nodded her head, while she continued working.

Amara worked on the gift for the next two hours, while Nico passed out next to her snorting quietly. She was glad she had someone she could confide in and it was a nice feeling because she knew it was sometimes hard to get along with her. When she was finally done, Nico was still sleeping so she left a note on the table and left quietly.

Thank you so much for letting me do it here!Love you N.- Ara

When she opened the door, all she could hear was Jack and Luke’s bickering. Quietly she closed the door behind her, putting the keys in the bowl next to the doors.

Kicking off her shoes, she walked deeper into the apartment, the voices getting louder as she walked towards the kitchen. When she looked for what was going on, she gasped.

It looked like there was some kind of explosion because the flour was everywhere. And she meant everywhere.

“Jesus, Luke! I told you to be careful,” Jack sighed, soothing the flour from his clothes. “Look at the mess.”

“I’m sorry, did know it would fly everywhere.” Luke defended himself, couching when the floor fell from his hair to his mouth.

“I rather don’t want to know what is going on in there.” She mumbled to herself, leaving quietly, so the two of them didn’t notice her.

When Amara woke up two days later, on Valentine’s Day, she couldn’t wait to see Jack.

She was anxious all day as she was preparing for Jack to arrive. She already had the gift in Nico’s car, for when they leave for Jack to the airport.

She spent two hours choosing her clothes until she decided on light wide-leg jeans with a white sweatshirt, uggs, and coat.

She was so nervous she cleaned the whole apartment two times and even sorted out her messy closet. Which, to be honest, was a good thing.

When Nico knocked on the door, she almost tripped and fell face straight on her face, but she managed to keep herself from falling and opened the door for him.

“You ready, Berry?” Amara just nodded her head and took her purse.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see him.” She called out with excitement jumping a little bit.

Nico just chuckled at her eagerness and led her to his car so they could leave in time.

The whole ride there Amara talked about how excited she was to see Jack and couldn’t wait for his reaction to her gift.

“Don’t be nervous. He’ll love it,” Nico said, trying to calm her nerves as he noticed her bouncing legs and slightly shaky hands.

“I hope so.” She sighed, resting her head against the car window.

“He will. I’m positive.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, as Nico focused on the traffic and Amara was thinking about Jack’s reaction. Imagining every scenario her mind could think of.

She knew she shouldn’t do this but she couldn’t control her mind and it was hard for her to not do this.

When they arrived, Amara almost ran inside the airport, but Nico stopped her from doing so. He knew she would probably trip over something on the way there.

“I am so excited.” She giggled as she waited for Nico to join her side, so she could grab his arm and walk with him.

“I can see that, Berry.”

“Sorry.” She mumbled in embarrassment, her cheeks turning bright red.

“That is okay, girl! I get it!” he chuckled, tickling her through the layers of clothes.

“What about you? Do you have any plans for today?” she asked wiggling her eyebrows.

“No, not at all,” He had to laugh because he would spend the day helping Jack with his gift. “Will probably just relax at home.”

“You should find yourself, someone,” Amara sighed slipping through the door Nico was holding open for her. “Hate seeing you alone all the time.”

“Oh, come on, I like being single,” Nico smirked, wiggling his brows. “You know how peaceful it is at my apartment? No one is telling me about the mess in my room, or in my bathroom.” Amara just giggled shaking her head at his words.

“Jackyyy!” she shouted when she saw him approaching them with a bag in his hand.

“Babe,” he laughed, dropping the bag on the ground and waiting for her to approach him and jump at him. As soon as she jumped at him, he grabbed her under her ass and slammed her lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned against her lips, adjusting her in his arm and steadying himself. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She mumbled, leaning her forehead against his.

“You haven’t seen each other only for two days.” Nico sighed from behind them with a chuckle.

“Shut up Nino,” Amara said over her shoulder, but still giggled because it was true. Jack was gone for two days but still, she missed him so much, because she was alone in the apartment, after Luke left for Michigan.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Berry.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jacky.”

“Okay, shall we leave or are you going to make out?” Nico sighed after five minutes of you standing in the middle of the airport hall.

Amara jumped down, blushing when she noticed the people staring at them.

Jack and Nico just chuckled at her reaction and together left the airport. A few minutes into the ride Amara didn’t notice, that they were heading in a different direction than their apartment was.

“Where are we heading?” she asked, from the backseat. Jack looks around at you with a smile.

“Somewhere.” Jack grinned at her. Amara looked at Nico with confusion and he just smirked focusing on the road. She took in a deep breath and patiently but nervously waited until they reached their destination.

“Jack, if I fall, I will smack you!” Amara mumbled under her nose quietly, but loud enough for Jack to hear it.

“I’ll catch you before your pretty face touches the ground.” He smiled lightly and carefully led her through the arena hall towards the ice.

Nico was in their locker room, changing into his clothes, and Amara’s gift was next to him.

He would wait until dinner to give the gift to Amara so she could enjoy the dinner.

“We are here,” Jack announced as he stopped in front of the ice. He was standing back towards the huge heart ob the ice, wanting to see Amara’s reaction.

Amara slowly took down the bandana and blinked few time to gave her eyes the opportunity to adjust to the dim light. When her eyes were okay, she looked around and gasped when her eyes landed on the sight in front of her.

Tears welled up in her eyes. The place looked gorgeous. There was red carpet on the ice, lighted by candles and was leading to the two seat table in the center. The rose petals were around it and she could assumed it was the shape of heart, even though it was hard to guess that from this far.

The red highlights were dimly lighted, bringing out comfortable and romantic atmosphere.

“Jack,” she breathed out, her eyes darting across the entire setup. There was so much to take in—the candlelit pathway, the petals arranged in what she thought was a heart, the dim red lights making everything glow softly. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

She blinked a few times, trying to process it all, but her brain was moving faster than she could keep up with. “Did you—how did you—when did you even—?”

Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, I take it you like it?”

Amara turned to him, still in slight shock. “Like it?” she echoed, her brain short-circuiting. “Jack, I didn’t even know you were planning anything! I thought we were just exchanging gifts! I—I did not prepare for this level of romance!”

Jack laughed, reaching for her hands. “That was the point, Berry.” His thumbs brushed over her knuckles, grounding her. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Amara exhaled sharply, her mind still racing. “Okay, okay, let me just—” She squeezed his hands and closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. When she opened them, her brain finally caught up with her emotions, and the full weight of what Jack had done hit her.

She let out a small, breathy laugh. “Jack, this is… it’s amazing.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he grinned. “Yeah?”

Amara nodded furiously. “Yeah. I just—wow—okay. I need to sit down before my brain combusts.”

Jack laughed again, tugging her gently toward the table. “Then let’s eat before Nico gets impatient.”

As if on cue, Nico appeared, dramatically clearing his throat. “Speaking of which, your waiter has arrived.”

Amara turned her head—and promptly snorted.

Nico stood beside the table in a ridiculous bright-red tuxedo, complete with a bowtie and an exaggeratedly professional stance. “You like it?” he asked, spinning slightly to show it off.

Amara clapped her hands together, giggling. “You look incredible, N.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I told you he’d be dramatic.”

“I prefer dedicated,” Nico corrected, pulling out Amara’s chair with an exaggerated flourish. “M’lady.”

She shook her head, grinning as she took her seat. “Wow. Five-star service.”

Jack took the seat across from her, smirking. “So. Since I obviously won our Valentine’s contest—”

Amara gasped, leaning forward. “Excuse me?! We haven’t exchanged gifts yet!”

“I mean, look around,” Jack teased, gesturing to the entire setup. “Kinda hard to top this.”

“Oh, just wait,” Amara shot back, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Wait—what do you mean by—”

Before he could finish, Nico dramatically placed two plates in front of them, interrupting. “Your meal, lovebirds.”

Jack gave him a look. “You love this, don’t you?”

Nico simply smirked. “Enjoy your meal. I’ll be over there, minding my own business—”

“Yeah, sure you will,” Jack muttered as Amara giggled.

Even as they ate, Amara still felt a bit jittery—not in a bad way, just in a too much excitement all at once way. She bounced her leg under the table, fingers fidgeting with her napkin, mind still spinning from the surprise. Every time she looked at Jack, he was already looking at her, and she’d get hit with another wave of holy shit, he really did all this for me.

When they were done eating, Jack leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Alright, Berry. You ready to admit I won?”

Amara smirked. “Not yet.”

She grabbed her phone and sent a quick text. A few seconds later, Nico walked over, holding a neatly wrapped box. He handed it to Jack with a smug smile.

Jack shot her a curious look. “What is this?”

“Your turn, Jacky boy,” Nico said, smirking.

Jack looked down at the wooden box, opening it slowly. The first thing he noticed were polaroids on the lid of it, then the stuffed bear and some candy. He pulled out the bear, revealing a sleek leather-bound journal with his initials embossed in silver. He ran his fingers over the cover, his expression softening. “Berry…”

“Open it,” Amara urged, bouncing slightly in her seat.

Jack did—and immediately sucked in a breath. The pages were filled with handwritten notes, little doodles, and tucked-in polaroids of them. There were memories scribbled in the margins, song lyrics she knew he loved, even inside jokes she’d carefully written down.

Jack flipped to a page where Amara had drawn a tiny, terrible stick-figure version of him. Underneath, she’d written: Future hockey legend (but still my dork).

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You made this?”

Amara nodded, suddenly shy. “I started a while ago. Thought it’d be something you could take with you when we’re apart.”

Jack swallowed hard, his fingers tracing over the pages. “Berry, this is…” He shook his head, at a loss for words. “This is the best thing anyone’s ever given me.”

Amara felt her face heat up. “So… did I win?”

Jack let out a choked laugh, closing the journal before standing up. Without another word, he walked around the table, pulled her up, and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Yeah,” he murmured against her hair. “You win.”

Nico groaned in the background. “You both win, okay? Now stop being disgustingly cute before I throw myself onto the ice.”

Amara laughed, burying her face in Jack’s shoulder. He just held her closer, swaying them slightly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Berry.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jacky.”

#jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes fic #nj devils #amara x jack 🍓#amara!james #nhl #strawberry x jack hughes #strawberry!girl au #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic

53 notes · View notes

whatdoidosatoru · 2 days ago

Text

wedding bells

baji keisuke/fem!reader | ao3 baji currently only has one problem: the fact that his girlfriend is too damn pretty in that dress. it's like you've picked out the most tantalizingly gorgeous outfit that he can't touch you in as he listens to takemichi and hina recite their vows. that is, until he spots a cloakroom. pulling you in there might just be the solution to the problem he's hiding in his suit trousers. wc: 2.8k cw: THE GOOD TIMELINE, smut, semi-public sex, creampie 18+ MDNI

“stop fussing with it,” your stern voice commands after another one of baji’s attempts to mess with his tie, “you’re gonna ruin it. again.”

he clicks his tongue, giving up on fighting you on it. it’s not too tight, he’s just being a baby. something you’ve told him countless times today, from the moment when he stepped back with a sharp smirk when you finished tying it in front of the mirror. it should be the other way around, he said, you should be taking it off me, pretty.

you rolled your eyes then, though the same thought crossed your mind only moments prior, along with an overwhelming desire to just push him on the bed and have your way with him. he looks insanely good in a suit, all dressed up, his long hair brushed and so damn silky, if only you could… no. you would be late.

the word ‘quickie’ doesn’t exist in baji’s vocabulary. you get all or nothing, pretty, he has a habit of saying, especially when you were on a time crunch, but he looked extra good in those scrubs and you just had to press yourself against him in the kitchen, accidentally rubbing your breasts against his back as you reached for the coffee cup in front of him. and he saw through you every time, smirking down at your feigned innocence before caging you in between his strong arms while you stuttered and tried to slip out of getting yet another hickey you’d have to hide before going to classes.

and you thought sharing an apartment with your boyfriend would make university easier…

you thank your lucky stars that both of you managed to keep it in your pants, dress, whatever. hina would have killed you if you were late. the ceremony is short enough, but some people still manage to fall asleep during it. baji holds your hand the entire time, brushing his rough thumb over your soft skin while takemichi recites his vows, nearly making hina’s eyes shine with happiness. her dress is beautiful, you have to find mitsuya later to congratulate him on the masterpiece. hina only showed you pieces of it while it was being designed, the whole thing is so much more than you could’ve visualized. it hugs her figure perfectly, the white makes her pink hair pop, the ruffles gracefully fall down the side of the skirt, making her look like a princess. you sigh, she’s so beautiful, and takemichi looks like he’s on the verge of tears as he speaks. so damn happy for them, you think, willing your own tear to stop trying to roll down your cheek.

“i see you holding it in, sweets.” baji’s quiet voice gently touches your ear as he leans in to whisper those words to you. you turn your head to him slowly, thinking about how it would be a damn shame if your makeup got ruined at the very start of the wedding.

“‘m not holding in anything,” you proudly respond, but even a glimpse of his serious face while he’s wearing that suit is enough to make you question going somewhere so public, “you’re seeing things.”

“mhm, sure,” he chuckles quietly, still brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “and i’m a weak fighter.”

“didn’t think you’d ever admit it.” a smile tugs on your lips, a smile that, paired with that teasing line, puts images in his head.

you know he already sees you lying over his lap, ass cheeks reddened from the amount of smacking his numbing palm is doing, he sees you with tears in your pretty eyes as he folds you in half and fucks you like his life depends on it. he smacks his lips and smirks as he looks down at your dress, the pretty, satin material such a gorgeous dark shade of green that looks like it’s made for you. there’s a delicious slit down your thigh, parting the dress to reveal your smooth skin. the material gathered around your chest catches his eye as he notes that you’re not wearing a bra under it. he lifts your hand, the one he’s been holding the entire ceremony, and kisses your knuckles gently, smiling at the images in his head.

“i love you so much, you know that, right?” his low tone strikes like an arrow to your heart, nearly making you gasp.

baji’s never been one for grand words like love, he prefers to show his affections in a very baji way, not just repeat words that he’s been told meant a certain thing. he doesn’t believe the depth of his emotions can be contained within such a simple word. love.

he wakes you up gently because he knows you’re not a morning person and the only way you won’t be cranky is if he kisses your nose and cheeks before rolling out of bed. he brings you coffee to work, takes you out to the park between classes so you can have your lunch together, basking in the sun before carrying your bag back inside. he picks you up and carries you around despite your half-hearted protests, makes you tea in the evenings when you’re tired but insist on studying late, puts on your favorite songs when you’re just relaxing at the apartment. baji believes in actions over words, and hearing him use the word is rare. it’s almost enough to make you release that tear that tried to spill from your eye earlier.

“love you too, dummy.” you reply, unable to contain the smile that cracks your frozen expression.

once hina and takemichi kiss, for the first time as a married couple, the crowd rises to their feet and applauds. you’re reluctant to let go of baji’s hand, but the excitement of the moment requires both of them to loudly clap and cheer along with the rest of the guests. so happy, it crosses your mind, they look as happy as i feel with him. baji turns almost as if he can hear your thoughts and winks at you. he doesn’t ever have to do much to make you into a blushing mess, a wink and a flash of those sharp canines are enough.

“you don’t know what it’s doing to me…” baji trails after you to reach the courtyard of the reception hall, hand on your hip, his lips right next to your ear.

“what are you talking about?” you feign ignorance, but the way his eyes slid that long, tight dress off your body during the ceremony didn’t escape your notice.

“the dress, dummy,” he kisses your temple, pulling you closer to him once you reach the front door, “it’s so pretty but i wanna rip it off you.”

you’re about to make a snarky comment when he drags you away, pulling you by the arm towards a heavy, polished wooden door that reads cloakroom, staff only.

as soon as the door closes behind him, baji turns and presses you against the wall, knocking a few coats and blazers to the floor. he couldn’t care less, to hell with the fancy fabrics, the pressed garments, expensive shawls. his hands quickly find the slit in your dress, pushing it apart to glide those rough palms over your silky soft skin. one quick pat on the underside of your thigh and you jump up to wrap your legs around his waist. he holds you up, pressing his hips into yours and his face into the crook of your neck. sharp teeth nip at your skin, enough to pull moans from your throat where he grazes it, but not to bruise you. that will have to wait until you’re back home tonight and he doesn’t have to be careful.

“seeing you so dolled up at the wedding…” baji’s voice is dripping in lust, “just makes me wanna put a ring on your finger as soon as possible.” he dives in, kissing down your neck, having you hold onto his silky hair as his lips and teeth compete in who’s going to touch your skin more.

“baji…” you sigh, voice light as the petals you threw over the happy couple earlier, “you know we should–”

“mhm, i know, pretty,” he licks up your throat, kissing the tip of your chin, “degree first, wedding second.” cleverly, his fingers bunch up the satin fabric of your lovely dress, hiking it up around your waist to grab onto the flesh of your ass and slide your panties to the side, uncovering your already needy pussy, dripping for him to fit his impatient cock inside it.

a small gasp leaves you when those same clever fingers swipe through your folds, collecting slick to taste like he’s sampling a wedding cake.

“but i really wanna wife you up soon, gotta… fuck, gotta have you forever.” he sounds like a man addicted, taking a deep breath of you just under your jaw, kissing it fiercely as he busies himself with unzipping those annoying classy trousers he’s wearing.

it would be way easier if he could’ve worn anything else, not these tailor-made trousers, the type that most of the toman guys are wearing today. he appreciates mitsuya, really, he does, but maybe he should’ve added a secret string that would let baji slide them off easier so he can fuck his girlfriend in the damn cloakroom like god fucking intended.

you can’t complain, despite waiting for him to one-handedly rid himself of the constraints of the trousers, your eyes have been feasting on the view of him in that suit. it’s been difficult keeping your hands to yourself, not reaching out and smacking his ass when he stepped out to open the car door for you. but now you’re getting impatient, every second he takes is a second you don’t want to spend without him inside you now that he’s made you so damn wet you’re certain there’s a piece of fabric at the bottom of the ocean somewhere that’s drier than your panties.

baji lets out a sigh of relief when he finally undoes the trousers, freeing his cock from the constraints and immediately pressing it against you, rubbing his tip through your soaked slit once, twice, fuck, three times just to mess with you.

“hmmm but what if I made you beg?” he lowers his voice, leaning against the side of your head where his lips gently brush your ear. “what if I wanted to play a little?”

he feeds on your little whimpers, pushes his tip inside your sweet, dripping cunt, and pulls it out.

“e-evil… you're sooooo evil.” you pout, batting your lashes at him and his mean teasing.

“naaawwww you love me like this, pretty.” he pushes his tip in again, pulling out just to hear you huff in exasperation.

he chuckles, finally pushing into you fully, sinking into your tight wet cunt to the hilt. his balls press against you and he lets out a gorgeous moan, leaning down to kiss your exposed collarbones.

“you’re lucky, my sweet girl…” he makes an experimental thrust, biting your collarbone to get a reaction out of you. one sugary moan and he keeps going, pushing into you almost desperately. “lucky… that i’ve been keeping my dick down the whole ceremony,” baji grunts as his hips snap against your thighs, blessing the fact that you’ve always been good at keeping yourself up by his hips, “because otherwise, hnngh i woulda’ had you dripping from just the tip.”

and you feel lucky, that he’s giving you his thick cock so desperately when he had the capacity, the habit, to be mean. you feel lucky with each kiss of his tip to your sweet spot. your eyes roll back, lips part, legs go numb as he bullies his way inside your sweet, soft cunt that keeps contracting around his shaft while your throat lets out small, breathless moans. the back of your head meets the wall repeatedly, but you can’t care about any sensation that isn’t baji’s body on yours.

“fuuuck just like that…” you pant, holding onto his long hair with your desperate fingers.

he chuckles at your pleasure, kissing the part of your neck he usually loves to bite. you don’t even realize how much self-control he’s exercising now trying not to bite into you like you’re the juiciest slice of watermelon.

but he’ll be nice, he’ll fuck you until you’re drooling, and then he’ll help you fix your makeup. he’ll hold your hand as you dance and mingle and drink champagne and he’ll give you all the sweetest compliments. that is, until you get home and he can bend you over the table, eating you out until your legs shake so much you can’t stand, and then fucking you until you nearly pass out. for now, though… he’ll be nice.

your whines and whimpers rise in pitch as baji’s hips speed up, rutting into you almost like he’s holding on so he doesn’t fall off the edge of the earth. he grips your hips, still careful not to tug on your dress. that gorgeous, dark green satin that feels so good under his fingertips. that gorgeous dress that got him thinking all kinds of unspeakable things. that dress that’s now bunched up around your waist, uncovering the flesh of your abdomen that he focuses his eyes on. oh how he’s going to sink his teeth into it once he brings you back home. he gets lost in the memories of your skin under his teeth, lifting his eyes to look into your glossy ones. with your lips parted, curses keep spilling from between them, a little bit of drool is gathering in the corner of your lips as he slams into you, grunting as your back meets the wall.

“damn… pretty, i won’t…” he groans, the sight of your fucked out face and the sound of your sugary moans tilt his self control, toppling it over as he attaches his lips to your pulse point. he kisses hard, trying so desperately not to suck or bite, trying to keep you free of his marks until it’s safe.

“b-baji please…” you drawl into his ear, moans giving way to straight up pleas in a whiny voice. his cock speeds up, pushing against your sweet spot so perfectly angled as you repeatedly contract around him, threatening to fall over the edge at once.

“almost there, sweets, aaaalmost there…” he pushes harder against the wall, stabilizing you to use one hand so he can rub your needy clit in tight circles.

he hits the spot almost immediately, making you gasp out loudly as your tight walls contract around him, squeezing him as the cries from your lips get louder and you finish with a shiver going from the top of your head down to your toes. just as he expects, your cunt squeezes him just right, making his hips stutter against yours and he slowly shoots his release into you, sighing in relief at the sensation as he rests his forehead against yours.

“mmmphh!” you whine, feeling the warmth of his cum fill you like always.

“ohhh my pretty girl… my sweet, sweet girl…” he coos, coming down from his high, “gonna have to marry you… have to make ya mine…” he presses kiss after sweet kiss to your pout, careful not to swipe any of your lipstick onto your face.

opening your eyes, you take in the blissed out smile on his pretty face, sharp canines poking out from his lips. he releases you slowly, letting your feet touch the floor before taking his hands off you. a little drop of his cum drips onto the floor, making him chuckle in amusement.

“well… help me then?” you point at the softness of your pussy now filled with his sticky mess. baji takes his sweet time getting a packet of wet wipes from your discarded purse, crouching down to gently wipe you clean before pressing a sweet kiss to your clit.

shuffling to pull your dress down, smoothing out the fabric that now once again glides down your hips and legs, you take out a small compact mirror from the purse. baji fixes his hair as you wipe the saliva gathered at the corner of your lips, cleaning up the lipstick before pretending nothing happened in the cloakroom, the purse hanging from your shoulder like it did before baji pulled you inside. taking his hand once again, both now visibly more relaxed, you stroll out, thankful that nobody sees you slip from behind the closed door.

you find emma and draken on the dance floor, swaying to a gentle rhythm that baji and you quickly catch as he places his hands on your waist.

“love you, even if you did just make me have a damn quickie…” he whispers into your ear, placing a kiss under your lobe, “you look incredible.”

you smile and slide your hand from the back of his neck to his cheek, bringing him in for a sweet kiss.

“love you too, baby…” you hesitate, looking down to admire the way he looks in that suit again, “you’re gonna have to wear this more often.”

baji laughs, kissing you once again before resuming his position and continuing swaying with you. the songs change, but the rhythm and your close embrace stay exactly the same.

47 notes · View notes