#glad to get the leg wobble in there though

[boltlightning]

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST (2006): rehearsals v. final film ➢ mastering the blade: orlando bloom

[fingertipsmp3]

Whyyyyyy is my quad lag back

[luveline]

Hotch request w Jack and new baby!!! Coming back from the hospital and reader is in bed with new baby and Jack while Aaron is in another part of the house (maybe making food in the kitchen) and reader starts crying because she’s in pain and jack is all concerned and sweet and goes to get Aaron??

thank you for requesting, sorry I messed up where everyone was! fem, 1.3k

“He’s gonna stab him!” 

You blink from the spot you’d been staring at, pain momentarily forgotten. “What! Where’d you learn that word?” you ask in surprise. 

Jack leans back against his big velvet pillow, blue with silver stars, looking as though he’s in the lap of luxury. “At school.” 

The cartoon mouse on the TV raises his fencing sword high in the air. 

“He’s not stabbing anyone, they’re fencing,” you say, reaching for his hand to hold. “Stabbing… that’s pretty scary. How did that make you feel?” 

“Well, I’m not gonna stab anyone,” Jack says. 

He’s confused that you’re making a fuss, just old enough to realise you’re poking around for his feelings. You worry lately that you aren’t paying him enough attention because of his new brother, and the word stab isn’t exactly age appropriate. 

But maybe that’s what the boys his age are talking about? You frown more, your hand slipping along his arm to curl behind him. You pull him toward you. “Come on, handsome. Cuddle me.” 

You’re too sore to move, so Jack has to come to you. He crawls across the couch until his arms can wrap around you and his cheek can rest against your chest. Stab is an apt word for the feeling in your stomach. Jack’s arm squeezes at you and the pain worsens, so you move it up your front and curl your arm around him. 

“Is it a bad word?” he asks. 

“No, it’s just like hit or slap, I guess. And I know you’re not gonna do any of that to anyone. You’re too gentle.” 

“Gentle is a good word.” 

“Yeah.” You kiss his forehead, a moment of self indulgence. You love your stepson, and he is oh so kissable. “Oh no, look at the mouse.” 

Charlie sleeps in his swing seat, the soft whirring of its constant motion almost as comforting as the sound of his soft breaths. You watch him for a while, Jack climbing up at your side to press his face to your neck, leg on your thigh, slowly pressing against the tenderness that is your abdomen. “Uh, Jack,” you breathe, trying to pick him up, “you’re gonna have to climb off of me, my tummy hurts too much.” 

“Sorry,” he says quickly, slipping off of you and onto the couch cushion. His foot kicks out as he rights himself, a jamming of his toes against the pain like a spike. 

You take a deep breath. Ouch. 

“It’s okay,” you say, groaning softly as the pain thrums, hand on your stomach as though your touch can make it stop, “just a tummy ache. I– I’m okay.” 

“You got little tears?” he says, his voice going wobbly. You try to blink away tears and end up with a straggler curving down the slope of your cheek. “I’ll go get dad!” 

“Jack, I’m okay,” you say. 

Too late. Jack scrambles from the couch and away from you, up the stairs to find his father. You’re not sure what Aaron’s up to, he’d only said, “I’ll be right back,” twenty minutes ago. You’d guessed laundry. 

You’re glad Jack’s run upstairs when you realise the pain isn’t going away. It’s not bad, not half as bad as your contractions had been, but the whole labour process has sapped you, and you feel weak as a willow branch in bad weather. You shift heavily onto one leg and cross them, uncross them when the pain spikes again, letting out a weird and breathless whine as it turns to a full blown cramp. 

Jack returns with Aaron in tow. His hair is dripping wet, soap suds on his neck and his shirt stuck to his chest. He’s rushed out of the shower to see you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he rounds the couch. “Jack told me you’re not feeling well.” 

You hold your arms out for a hug. He doesn’t falter, simply does as you want, his hair wringing wet and dripping onto your shoulder as he gathers you in his arms. 

You hold onto him like a lifeline. The cramp curls, and tightens, has you seizing up against him. 

“What is it?” he asks softly. “Stomach pains again?” 

The nurse said it’s your uterus shrinking. Whatever it is, it’s sudden agony. You shudder into Aaron’s shoulder until the pain pangs and fades, leaving your stomach a tense mess. It hurts to move, so you stay clinging to your husband and let him hover over you. 

“Are you okay?” Jack asks.

You sniff. 

Aaron pulls away to take your face into his hands. He holds you with care, his thumbs under your jaw, index fingers running diagonally under each eye, tips at your brows. Just a stolen few seconds for him to check you over. No tears to be wiped away. 

“Still hurting?” 

You shake your head, eyebrows pulled down in a bad frown. 

“Okay. Alright. Motrin?” he asks. 

“No,” you whisper, “can you just stay here?” 

Jack says your name. 

You peek past Aaron’s body. “Jack, sorry.” 

“Are you okay now?” 

You grimace, “I’m gonna be fine, it just hurts sometimes and I didn’t have any medicine today. That’s all. Sorry, I scared you.” 

“You didn’t scare me,” he denies. 

You can’t help smiling, then. “Okay, I didn’t. Thanks for getting dad for me.” 

“He’s our hero,” Aaron says. He sits down beside you carefully, his voice quiet and his hand gentle as he holds your thigh. “I’m glad he did.” 

Jack climbs into his dad’s lap. Aaron wraps an arm around him, the other at your side, fingers tapping at you. 

You rub your forehead. Tip your head back and take a deep breath. 

“Jack,” you whisper, breathing out, “I’m sorry if I startled you. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

“It wasn’t scary, I said that already.” 

“Oh, you did?” Aaron teases. 

“It was okay, I just don’t want you to hurt.” 

“Only baby pains,” you say. 

For a few minutes, you and your small family sit there in silence. Aaron works a hand behind your back to hug you, Jack snuggles into his chest, and Charlie stirs in his swing seat. The quiet calms him, and he goes back to his soft snoring seconds later. 

“I’m sorry about your shower,” you whisper. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry about my baby,” Aaron whispers back, drawing circles into your lower back, “he didn’t mean to chew you up.” 

“Ugh, I know.” 

Jack raises his nose. “What? Chew? Do babies bite?” 

“It’s an expression, babe.” 

“Oh.” He looks at his baby brother with suspicion anyways. “He doesn’t even have teeth?” 

“Buddy, it’s just a joke,” Aaron says, laughing as Jack slips out of his lap to go and look at Charlie in the seat. 

“Maybe he did have teeth,” you say. 

Aaron ushers you toward him, rests his cheek on your forehead. “It’ll feel better soon. You need to rest, that’s all.” 

“Your hair is so wet.” 

“I was in the shower.” 

“Sorry…” 

“Don’t be,” he says. “Don’t be.” 

You reach up to tousle his wet hair. “Miss showering with you.” 

“We showered last night.” 

“No, I stood there and you helped me wash my back, that’s not the same.” 

“Well, I enjoyed it.” 

“I bet you did.” 

Your fondness attracts many, many kisses, his nose nuzzling your cheek. You settle under the weight of him and watch Jack where he frowns at Charlie, big brown eyes squinted, waiting for a show of teeth that won’t happen. Aaron brings a hand to your tense stomach, waiting for you to lean back before he begins massaging the tensed muscle there with a slowness that borders unmoving. 

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he says. 

“You can go finish your shower.” 

“I was finished. M’gonna start pressing in, okay?” 

You wince as Aaron begins, but slowly, slowly, the tenseness from your cramp softens. It still hurts, but he makes it manageable. Jack delivered your rescuer, and your rescuer loves a soft touch.

[miniimight]

❝ CAN YOU STOP PUTTING EVERYTHING ON THE TOP SHELVES?! ❞ you finally talk to him after a little argument ( height difference )

with deku, bakugou, rody

IZUKU

he tried to look nonchalant as he responded with a questioning hum. yeah, he was putting stuff on the top shelves. "hmm, what?"

you crossed your arms and glared at him. "you heard me."

he turned to you with the picture of innocence plastered on his face. "i don't know what you mean, i just put things where i put them. it just happens that they're high up."

you raised an accusatory eyebrow.

"for you, anyway." he mumbled, turning back to make his sandwich.

"exactly!" you exclaimed. "for me! you know i can't reach things up there and you do it on purpose!" you found your face was hot as you explained it.

you knew exactly why—you both had gotten into a little fight and you weren't talking to him for a while. this was the first time you had spoken since the argument, and even though you were yelling at him, your voice was music to his ears.

a small smile spread on his face despite his efforts to feign innocence. "on purpose?"

"yes!"

he paused, walking towards you. his disregard for space led to you being crammed against the counter behind you. he leaned over you and asked, "what it is that you need, love?"

your cheeks heated and you cast your gaze to the floor. "the box up there..." you murmured. he stretched to reach it and you flattened your palms against his chest. "izuku! you're squishing me—!"

he chuckled and brought the box down to the counter before kissing your forehead. "i'm glad we're talking again."

BAKUGO

"what was that?" he asked you, a knowing smirk on his face.

you huffed, already on top the counter trying (and failing) to reach the stupid box you needed. "i said stop putting shit on the top shelves. you know i can't reach it."

he shrugged, turning his attention back to his phone. "i dunno what you're talkin' about, princess."

you glared and pointed to the box. "you don't even use it?!"

"aw, don't jump the gun on me now, babe. you know i like to switch things up a lil' bit." he grinned, taking so much joy in your visible frustration. he was just happy you were speaking with him again.

you rolled your eyes, electing to ignore him as you tried your best not to fall off the surface or pull the cabinet down with you.

bakugo eyed you carefully as he threw away the thought of you begging for his help, reluctantly decided your immediate safety was more important. "'kay, that's enough." he walked over, his hands on your hips steadying your wobbly movement. "you'll hurt yourself, y/n. come down."

"i want that stupid box..." you pouted.

he rolled his eyes, his arms now circling around you as he lifted you off the counter. you gasped and curled your legs towards your body, clutching his wrists.

"oh, relax, you know i won't drop ya." he grumbled and set you down next to him. he easily plucked the box from its high perch, handing it to you.

"happy now?" he pinched your cheek. "stubborn brat. could've broken a bone or somethin'."

RODY

"what, having trouble sweetheart?" he snickered.

your face heated and you huffed. "rody... just get it for me, please."

"hmmm..." he pretended he was thinking hard. "i think... no."

you looked at him incredulously. "no? you put it up there!"

"i so did not." he turned up his nose, though pino was smiling and nodding her head.

you narrowed your eyes at him. "you're sabotaging me into breaking your silent treatment."

"whaaaat?" he exaggerated confusion. he held his head and pointed at himself dumbly. "me?"

"you're impossible." you rolled your eyes, moving to climb onto the counter.

"in any case, my plan worked wonderfully," his signature smirk graced his lips as he laughed softly, leaning against the wall to survey your distress.

your fingers just about brushed the side of the box before pino crashed into it, sending it further back and completely out of your reach. you swiveled to glare at the little pink bird. "pino!"

she bashfully twirled in the air before happily fluttering away.

rody's laughter filled your ears and you groaned, resting your head against the shelf. you heard shuffling—when you looked up, rody and his stupid smug smirk was beside you, easily bringing the box down.

"now we both look stupid, yeah?" he pressed a fat kiss on your cheek and softened when you laughed brightly.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[moonstruckme]

in theory i really want to see bodyguard!james and reader where she gets hurt and he takes care of her… but i literally cannot imagine him letting her get hurt at any point. unless like they both barely escape with their lives, or maybe someone else was on her detail for the day — cutting myself off with an idea: james is set on another task for an event for whatever reason and when danger erupts somehow, he completely abandons it to come protect her even though shes supposed to have another detail, desperate to protect her

Hi! I sort of did a mix of these if that's alright, thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of blood, small head injury, past break-in/attack

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Your heart lurches when the bathroom door handle jiggles, someone using a key, but then James steps inside. 

You choke on a sob you didn’t realize had been building. He rushes to meet you as you stand from the closed toilet, arms coming tight around your waist. It’s a good thing, because your legs don’t seem ready to support you. Your knees are wobbly and insubstantial, your ribs feel sore, and you can only see out of one eye. But James is here, so that’s all alright. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He sounds teary. You know James to be an emotional creature, but he doesn’t often let them show when he’s working. Though you don’t suppose he is working, since he’d gone home from his shift not long ago. “Fuck, I’m so glad you’re in one piece.” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

“I heard what happened.” He squeezes you tight, then releases you, taking your face in his hands. “Are you okay? What happened here?” He touches near your forehead. 

You take a breath, but despite your best intentions your voice wobbles. “I’m okay.” 

James’ expression melts with understanding. Blood still flows hot over your eye, the sharp pain on your head bleeding but evidently not enough to worry the men on your detail who’d hustled you in here after the guy who’d broken in and tried to attack you was subdued. Enough to make your lungs feel tight and panicky, though. 

James strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re okay,” he agrees. 

“I just—I can’t see, James.” 

“I know, let’s see. Let me have a look.” He sits you back down on the toilet, grabbing a few things from the cabinet underneath your sink before squatting in front of you. You swear, he knows where you keep your things better than you do. James pushes your hair away from your face, gentle fingers landing at your hairline. “Oh, it’s only small.” 

“Why is it bleeding so much?” 

“Because head wounds bleed a lot, honey,” he says lightly. You recognize this tone; it’s the one he always uses when he can tell you’re spiraling, extra untroubled to counter you. It used to work better before you knew him so well. “You’ll be alright, I’m just going to clean it for you. Does it hurt much?”

“Not a lot,” you say, wincing as he passes a sterile wipe over the cut. 

James frowns. “They didn’t send someone to look at you?” 

“You look at me all the time. Not sure they need someone else to do it.” 

He snorts. “I mean like a doctor, babe.” 

You knew what he meant. “No.” You try to keep the pique out of your tone, but you suspect he hears it anyway. “They just ran me in here and told me to stay put.” 

“That is protocol,” James allows. “Maybe they’ve just not had time to send someone yet. They’ve brought the assailant into the other wing for questioning.” 

You furrow your brows, and he says quietly “hey,” thumbing at your forehead so you relax it again. 

“Assailant?” 

James hesitates. “I suppose he may not qualify as an assailant. That’s just the term we always use to describe anyone who tries to get to you.” 

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. You gnaw on it pensively. “But you think he was really here to kill me?” 

“We’re your security team,” James says gently. “We have to work off the assumption that anyone attempting to get to you is trying to kill you.” He places a bandage over your cut, looking you in the eye. “But that’s not for you to worry about, okay? That’s our job.” 

You’re silent while he gets a few more sterile wipes, ripping one open. You’re not sure exactly how much blood is on you, but that he starts cleaning underneath your jaw doesn’t feel like a great sign. 

“You’re not on shift,” you say after a minute. “How did you know to come?” 

James thinks for a second. “You know our team uses a private radio channel to communicate, right?” You nod. “Well, the signal doesn’t stretch far, but I sometimes listen to it on my way home until it goes out.” He gives you a half sheepish look. “We’re not supposed to, but it makes me feel better to check up on things.” 

You laugh softly. “Can’t ever stop working, can you?” 

“Hey, just because you’re alright when I leave you doesn’t mean you will be five minutes later.” You can tell it’s meant to be a joke, but James’ tone sobers near the end of his sentence. You’re sure he’s thinking about what happened today, same as you. He says quietly, “I just like to keep up to date on you for as long as I can.” 

He starts cleaning the blood off your eye, and you shut your other one while he does. James’ hands are characteristically gentle, something that had surprised you after first meeting him. Here’s this bodyguard, all broad frame and big, intimidating muscles, and he touches you with all the loving softness of a teddy bear. 

He does one last swipe over your eye, says “there,” and kisses near your eyebrow. 

“Thanks, Jamie.” You fold forward, looping your arms around his neck. He knows what you need, big palm moving up your spine. You press your face into the meat of his shoulder. “I know I’m supposed to say that I like it when you go home and rest,” you mumble, “but I sort of wish you could stay here all of the time.” 

“Maybe we can work out a solution,” he humors you. “I could set up a cot by the end of your bed.” 

“Don't be silly.” You hug him tighter. “I’d at least blow up an air mattress for you. And you could have a whole bathroom drawer to yourself.” 

“That is a very generous offer.” You can hear the smile in James voice. Can feel the affection he’s squeezing into your sore ribs. “I’ll check with the boss and get back to you, okay?”

[emmyrosee]

 Hiiii, I have a request. Imagine a highschool AU where reader has a massive crush on Sukuna but she thinks he has a thing with Uraume, but he actually likes her. Ok ok, so hear me out. Reader is childhood friends with Yuuji and Sukuna and she notices how Sukuna and Uraume have been hanging out a lot. So she asks Yuuji if Sukuna is going to prom and he says yes, and that he is probably going with Uraume. So reader is sad and doesn't want to go to prom anymore even after already buy her dress. Buttt, the day before prom, Sukuna and Reader end up talking and she mentions how he and Uraume are going together and he is confused.  Then they both confess and end up going together. Pleaseeeeee make this as angsty as possible, I love me some good angst😫

THIS IS SO CUTEEEE-

Bro this is so long yaLL GET A SNACK- I never had a senior prom this is my venting PFFFFF-

I do want to make a disclaimer! To make this fic work I had to go and use an American based school system, where traditionally seniors are 18, can drive, and eat in cafeterias. For those about to comment my inaccuracies, thank you!

—-

Sukuna has been a little more than preoccupied lately.

He, who once would spend every afternoon driving you and yuuji home, who would blast your favorite music and take you to McDonald’s for a soda, has been more than busy with someone new.

You don’t know where she came from, hell you’ve known the two of them for years, yet this is the first you’ve ever really heard of the being known as Uraume.

“They’ve actually been friends for years,” yuuji had told you. “I’m surprised you never really met her- though she’s pretty shy. Only close with sukuna, honestly.”

Yeah. Real close.

Within just a few weeks, Uraume has snagged your place as Sukuna’s number one. No longer does he stand outside your class to carry your books to the next. Your front seat privileges go to her. He plays her favorite songs. He drops you off at home before taking her to god knows where to do god knows what. And yuuji is blind to this change, merely glad his best friend is sitting in the back seat with him, all the while it tears you up on the inside.

And it isn’t until you catch a beefy hand shift to hold Uraume’s that you realize it’s over. Your heart shatters, your lip wobbles, and you turn your body to face away from the disgusting sight.

“You okay?” Yuuji asks, gently nudging you with the tips of his fingers, and when you look up to peek at Sukuna’s frame once again, you catch his eyes looking at you in the rear view. You sigh and turn your gaze away.

“What’s wrong, brat?” He asks, and you could throw up when Uraume turns in her seat to look at you too.

She looks genuinely concerned, and you could punch her for it.

“Just… take me home, Sukuna,” you murmur.

“But we’re getting pizza!” Yuuji whines. “I don’t want you to miss out!”

You smile and gently pat his leg, “don’t worry about me, yuuji. I’m just getting car sick.”

Car sick enough you don’t car pool with him anymore.

You’re back to taking the bus, curled on your seat to stay out of other people’s way, leaving home about 45 minutes earlier than you would’ve with Sukuna. It makes you skip breakfast and washing your face, barely giving you enough time to get into clean clothes and head off onto the day.

But it’s better than seeing them interact, a crush and potential romance brewing right in your eyesight. You never told him how you were getting to school, either, not in the mood for his attempts to change your mind or force you otherwise.

Until-

“You’ve been taking the fucking bus?”

There’s a loud bark that rings through the halls of school, people moving out of the way for the one and only sukuna to come barreling down it, some looking in worry, others with their eyes rolling in their skull.

You sigh and close your locker, leaning against it, “did yuuji finally tell you?”

“No, and I’m going to beat the shit out of him for not telling me,” he snarls, leaning in close. “Do you know how fucking dangerous the bus can be?”

You roll your eyes, “people take the bus every day, Sukuna.”

“Yeah. Not you. Not anymore. I drive you. You know that.”

“Not anymore,” you grumble. He cocks a brow in challenge and you roll your eyes, “I have no interest in being in a car with you.”

“Who fucking shit in your oatmeal this morning?” He snaps. “You’ve had a punk ass attitude for the past two weeks, what the fuck happened?”

“Maybe im just not into being babied anymore?” You lie. He furrows his brows and licks his lips as the bell rings.

“This isn’t over. We’re not done.”

“I am!” You sing.

You’ve never had a day at school drag like today has.

Classes have never felt longer, teachers have never talked slower, and the clock has never ticked drowsier. It physically causes your head to pound and your stomach to become nauseous, and agony courses though your veins as the lunch bell rings.

It’s only lunch.

You manage to shuffle your way out to the cafeteria to meet your friends, two who cheer happily at your arrival and one who offers you a nod of acknowledgment. You plop down next to Fushiguro and rub your temples.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuji asks, and you flash him a small smile.

“I just don’t feel well.”

“You haven’t felt well in days,” he points out, “I hope you’ll be alright for tomorrow night!”

Tomorrow night.

Prom is tomorrow night.

You scrub your face with your hands, “I’ll feel better once I eat, yuuji. Don’t worry,” you say quietly.

The drumming of Nobara’s nails on the table don’t help the growing migraine in your skull, and you try your best to drown out the noise of so many people and so many thoughts and so many feelings about your argument with sukuna that you feel like you could throw up straight on this table.

Kugisaki grimaces, “I told your brother to be here today to talk about prom,” she says, poking her juice open with a straw. “He’s late.”

“He’s not late,” yuuji says, pointing a finger at a table just a few down. “He’s over there, with Uraume.”

The minute every vowel passes Yuuji’s lips, a shiver trails down your spine, filling your entire being with heaviness and hatred. You don’t dare look over your shoulder, instead you grab a grape from Fushiguro’s lunch to munch on. He nudges the small container closer, and you take another green grape from him.

“Besides,” Yuuji continues, taking a bite of his lunch, “I’m 98% sure Sukuna’s going with her. Something about her friend group and car pooling, I figured we could catch a ride with someone else.”

Your heart stops completely.

The man you’d assumed you were going with, the man you’d been in love with for years, is taking someone else, the day before prom.

“He WHAT!” Kugisaki snaps, and next to you, Fushiguro laces his pinky finger with yours, squeezing softly to keep you grounded. “Oh! The fucking nerve! I knew he was a piece of shit, but THIS?! Oh, Itadori, why couldn’t you have your license!”

“Hey! Why don’t you!”

“Kugisaki,” Fushiguro says softly. “Him being a scumbag is nothing new. But,” you feel blue eyes focus on the side of your head. “Let’s be a little more gentle about this, okay?”

From behind you, there’s a set of laughter that eases its way over the cafeteria, and you wish it was literally anyone else’s, anyone’s other than Uraume’s, and you hate how light and airy it sounds.

How pretty.

“I know for a fact Sukuna’s not that funny,” Kugisaki grumbles, but all you do is pick at your food and silently pretend to agree with your friend.

Sukuna is funny. Sukuna is so funny it hurts, it brings tears to your eyes and your sides and stomach to hurt, and even though you share him everyday, it hurts now to share him with her.

“Man, she’s laughing real hard,” Yuuji says, taking a sip of his water, his head turned to watch his brother interact with his friend. “Wonder what he said.”

“Yuuji,” Megumi warns.

Yuuji chuckles to himself, “it’s almost like they’re feeding off of each other, it’s kinda sweet.”

“Yuuji.”

“-and I mean, Sukuna’s usually not so open and friendly, let alone cracking jokes. It’s cute-“

“ITADORI!”

Megumi snaps hard enough at his friend to make him shut up, and when yuuji finally turns back to face you, your bottom lip wobbles and you play more with your food. Tears pour down your face, as Kugisaki reaches over to rest a hand on yours, sympathy in her gaze. “Yeah,” you sniffle. “It’s cute.” The hand not being cradled by Kugisaki comes up to wipe your tears, and before you know it, your legs stand up and carry you straight to the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall where you’re able to finally let it go. You cradle yourself in comfort, eyes screwed shut as you sob every fiber of your soul out.

Kugisaki calls your name once, twice, then she sighs, “come on. Let’s talk this out, okay?”

“I’m not going to prom,” you confess. “Not if he’s going with her.”

“You don’t know if he is, though,” she argues, leaning against your stall door. “And if he is, and he fumbles the best thing that ever happened to him, he doesn’t deserve your tears.”

There’s another person that enters the bathroom, and you hear Kugisaki scoff. “You’re like, a thousand percent not supposed to be in here.”

“Bite me,” the voice snaps, and it doesn’t take long to decode it as Sukuna’s. Your hand claps over your mouth to silence your tears, not wanting him to hear you. “I thought she was crying, I wanted to check on her.”

“She’s fine. Shoo.”

“Kugisaki-“

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends,” she snaps, and you close your swollen eyes as she defends your honor. “Because we’re not. Don’t act like you care at all about me or her, or her peace or her business. So fucking beat it, before I snitch you out to the principal, then no one’s fucking happy.”

You hear sukuna exhale in annoyance, “just… text me, okay?” He says, and you know he’s talking to you.

“She’ll think about it,” Kugisaki growls. Once the big footprints are out of earshot, you slowly ease your way out of the stall and straight into Kugisaki’s arms, “I know honey, I know,” she soothes, hugging you tight. “You deserve so much better, babydoll. Fuck him.”

“He led me on for months,” you wail. “And he tossed me to the side like a fucking piece of trash. For her.”

“And that’s why you should go to prom,” she argues, pulling back to look at you, eyes soft in understanding. “You don’t need him to have fun- you’ve got friends who are dying to go with you. And you want to make him real jealous?” She asks, and you quirk your brow in intrigue.

She smirks, “go with Fushiguro.”

You sniffle and shake your head, “I cant do that to Fushiguro. Im not going to use him as a pawn to make Sukuna want me again. It’s not fair.”

Kugisaki nods and clicks her tongue, “why don’t you get a note from the nurse and go home for the day?” She encourages, and you ponder the idea in your head.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea… to go home and process the day, figure out what to do about prom, maybe even return the dress for your money back. You sigh shakily and nod your head before the bathroom door bursts open again, emerging a yuuji whose hands are clasped over his eyes. “Just wanted to bring you your backpack!”

You snort and wipe your nose, “thank you, Yuuji.”

“You’re welcome!” He shifts his fingers to peek at you, lifting the middle one to make eye contact, “so… sorry we didn’t get to talk about prom.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh, ushering them both out of the bathroom. “I’m… I’m probably not going anyways.”

“WHAT!” He whines, his hands coming down to his sides in a saddened pout. “But! It’s senior prom! We have to go!”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I haven’t felt up for it since we made the plan to go. Maybe I’m just not supposed to.” When Fushiguro appears from the men’s bathroom and approaches the group, you flash him a sweet smile, “but I want you guys to still go!”

“Well if you’re not going, I’m not going!” Yuuji proclaims.

Fushiguro shakes his head, “if this is about prom, I won’t go either. We can chill at our houses instead-“

“EVERYONE IS GOING TO PROM!” Kugisaki barks, causing more than a few heads to turn in the hall. Then, she sighs, “we’re all old now. This is it. Our last chance of good memories from this shit fuck of a school. Everyone is going. Period.”

“But-“

“We’ll talk it out later,” you say quickly, noticing the duo of Sukuna and Uraume heading to the vending machines together. “I’m going home. Someone take notes for me.”

“Will do,” Fushiguro calls out for you. You feel three pairs of eyes boring into the back of your skull, but you couldn’t care less.

Not when you’re left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

Getting out of school was easy enough. Working up an excuse that you’re dizzy and need to be rushed home. It’s getting home that sucked.

Before, Sukuna was your ride home when you were sick, cutting classes to get you back to your home so you could take care of yourself and get plenty of rest. Now, you stand at a public bus stop, earbuds in your ears, and you wait. You’ve done this route plenty of times by now, courtesy of Sukuna’s front seat being taken by her.

The ride is quiet enough, your head resting against the cool glass of the window as your phone buzzes violently.

sukuna 💪🏻 Where the fuck did you go?

No seriously wtf

This shit with Fushiguro taking notes for you? The fucks up with that?

Why’d you even leave?

You think you can ignore me?

This isn’t over. Once this bell rings?

I’m hunting you down.

You ignore his threats and let the bus carry you home, your exhausted legs finishing the trip up and into the familiar confines of your house. You’ve got at least two hours before sukuna makes good on his word, and you decide to take that time to take care of yourself- something your heart has been too tired to do since Uraume came into your life uninvited.

After a hot shower, some skin care and topped with some pretty perfume, you make your way to the living room, stopping briefly for a snack from the kitchen.

You put on a movie, but your phone won’t stop buzzing. It’s Sukuna, it’s always going to be Sukuna, and you merely turn it on Do Not Disturb.

If ignoring his texts wouldn’t get him pissed, that certainly would.

But you don’t care. Not anymore.

There’s a ferocious knocking on the door that snaps you out of your zone, and it doesn’t take you long to render the intense energy as Sukuna’s. You pause your movie and shrug your blanket off, making your way to the front door.

Your hands tingle and your heart pounds at the idea of confrontation, but you figure you have nothing to lose as you open the door, revealing an annoyed Sukuna, foot tapping impatiently.

“You think you can hide from me?” he snaps, and you roll your eyes and try to close the door. Sukuna merely jams his foot in the frame to stop you. “Stop fucking around with me, and talk to me. And what’s this bullshit of Yuuji telling me you’re not going to prom?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you say blankly, but all that does is aggravate him more, and he uses a big hand to force the door open more. The act would be attractive to you, had your heart not been torn into pieces by him. “Don’t break my door.”

“Don’t ignore my goddamned texts!” He barks. You scoff and step back inside your house, where he swiftly follows you. “You’re acting like a fucking child.”

“IM ACTING LIKE A CHILD?” You screech, loud enough where even Sukuna’s eyes widen. “Me? After this entire week where you’ve picked your new best friend to cling to, IM THE CHILD?”

“Yes!” He snaps. “What, I can’t have other friends?”

“You seemed pretty content with the one,” you chuckle. “Certainly didn’t need me to keep you entertained.”

“It’s not my fault that Uraume’s been hanging out with me more,” he says, crossing his big arms. “You just can’t handle sharing me once in a while? Are you that insecure?”

This, has you wincing back, his words making you nauseous and tears bite at your waterline, stinging painfully as you finally blink a line down. He takes a deep inhale and cards a massive hand through his hair, “I didn’t mean that-“

“Fuck. You.”

“Look-“

“No, you look, Sukuna,” you growl, hands coming up to shove him hard. “You don’t get to gaslight me into thinking I’m being dramatic, after you’ve completely thrown me to the side and neglected me for the week. You don’t get to make me feel like the bad guy after you led me on for months on end, only to chase after another girl. You don’t get to break my heart, and demand me to piece it back together, only to try and guilt me for protecting my peace! FUCK! YOU!”

“Led you on for what?” He asks, confusion replacing annoyance, but aggregation still in his tone. “The fuck are you spewing?” You reach up to shove him again; this time, he grips your shoulders to make you steady, “are you out of your fucking mind? There is no other girl!”

“Oh, yeah,” you scoff, your voice tight with tears. “You just hold every broad’s hand in front of me. You just rest your hand onto every girl’s thigh, clearly. My bad, Sukuna.”

“I never held her hand, I moved her hand from my thigh, you weren’t fucking paying attention!”

“Yeah? What about not walking me to class anymore? Not carrying my books for me? Not sitting next to me anymore, instead going to be with her?”

His brows furrow, and there’s nothing you’d like more than to smack the expression clean off of his face. “Doll, Uraume is a friend. That’s it!”

“Yeah? Then what does that make us?”

“Everything!” He yells, the plates rattling and doors creaking from the force. The tears in your eyes still as you stare up at him, whimpering and shaking in his grip.

“What…?”

He sighs in exhaustion, “are you so dense you don’t notice just how obsessed with you I am? The minute someone else comes into my life, you’re blind to that?”

“Sukuna-“

“I’ve fought Fushiguro over you,” he continues. “I’ve argued with teachers for being late to walk you to your class. I’ve gotten pulled over speeding to your house to be with you. I’ve fucking been here, wanting you, but I was waiting for you to be ready.”

“Well, you’ve sure had a hell of a time proving it,” you snip, and he grits his teeth to ground himself. “Talking to another girl, taking her to prom-“

“I’m not taking her to prom, I’m taking you!”

“Then why have you been ignoring me!”

Your words are silenced as he grabs you by the chin and pulls you in for a kiss, the broken bits of your soul and heart snapping back together. Your brain stops and your stomach swirls, but your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, keeping him close. He tastes like orange soda and feels comforting like a freshly washed blanket, his band tee getting fisted in your hand as your other one plays with the hair of his buzz cut. He shivers, his arms hug around your waist, panting into your mouth before hesitantly pulling back.

He leans down to your ear, “listen carefully. I’m not taking Uraume. I’m taking you. Uraume is a friend. That’s it. Once I tell her we’re together, she’ll back off, and we’re going to be fine. I’ve been ‘ignoring you’ because I figured you wanted space, but I couldn’t deal with it anymore. Got it?” You sniffle and burrow your face in his chest, letting his big arms wrap around you and keep you safe. He presses another kiss to the crown of your head, and you feel your mind go fuzzy at the moment he cradles you close.

“Missed my annoying brat of a crush. Driving to school was so fucking boring,” he says, and you scoff against him and wipe your nose on his shirt. “Ugh. Ew.”

“You’re supposed to find me pretty no matter what,” you sniffle. “Even if I use you as a tissue.”

“Maybe, just don’t use me as a tissue?” He snickers, and when you loosen and laugh yourself, he gently pulls back to look at you.

“C’mon. Show me your dress. Need to know what color tie I’m getting.”

“You want to match with me?” You whimper.

He smirks, “Kugisaki already hates me. You think she’s going to let us not matching slide?”

“You’re so right.”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

father’s and mother’s day | s.r. x pregnant!fem reader

“happy father’s day!” annabeth came rushing into your bedroom causing you and spencer to flinch from the loud noise. you felt her scramble into the bed on spencer side, turning your head you saw how she cling to him.

spencer groaned, “thank you my love bug. you’re just as special since you granted me that title. i’d still be doctor spencer reid if you did come along.” he planted loving kisses along her chubby face. her high pitched giggles filled your heart.

“and what a shame that title would be,” you joked as you eyes the two. you looked down at your soon to be popped belly, “say hi to daddy.”

there was a kick and you quickly grab from spencer’s hand so he could feel the twins morning cheer. “hi charlotte and matthew, a great father’s day surprise was finding out there was two of you in there. mommy’s kinda glad we were able to get two kids in one, less work to be done.”

“but more pain for me,” poking a finger into his shoulder teasingly. spencer kissed at you stretched stomach, talking to both of them for a minute as your fingers carded through his hair and annabeth placed a hand beside his larger one to feel the kicks.

“does it hurt?” she asked you, her eyes wide and the same as spencer’s.

“a bit. they have to squeeze between my own organs, that’s why i need to pee a lot. my bladder is a victim to growing babes.” your free hand caressed at your daughters cheek, “you were such a good girl. you only kicked a few times then stopped, and sometimes you kicked when either of us talked directly to you. that’s why you know us so well already, we’ve been talking long before you came to earth.”

spencer moved to sit beside you, he planted a morning kiss upon your cheek. “did you know ties are the most common gift on father’s day? especially the best dad ones.”

“we got you one!” annabeth announced. spencer appeared shocked, “really! do i deserve the title of best dad though?”

annabeth stood to her feet, her legs wobbling with the mattress as she carried herself to spencer and threw her arms around his shoulders. “yes! yes! bestest dad in the universe!”

“the bravest and sweetest dad alive,” you added along.

-

a/n: i just threw this together in thirty minutes after waking up. happy father’s day.

[tinyluvs]

I’m so happy your on my dash again!!! I was wondering if u could do something like post-prison Spencer where him and the reader do “it” for the first time after he gets out, and instead of it being rough they r both completely blissed out by being so close to each other again! And it’s super gentle, slow, and just like love-drunk.

ah glad to have you back angel! i would love to! enjoy! *mdni!!* this ended up being much longer than i anticipated!! ♡

spencer showers the minute he gets home from prison and naturally, he takes twice as long as he normally does. you sit on the edge of the bed waiting for him, watching steam billow out from the open door

normally he wouldn't leave the door open but the thought of having something separating you from him, for even a few more minutes was too much

you watch as he dries off, just happy to have him home. he wanders back into the bedroom, smiling softly at you when you hold out his pyjama bottoms, folded neatly in your hand, "here," you whisper

"thanks honey," he mumbles, rubbing a towel over his hair so it's mostly dry. you look away when he gets changed, only hearing his towel fall to the floor with a soft thump, "hey,"

spencer crouches down in front of you, his hands smoothing over your thighs as your eyes flicker over his face. he looks tired though his eyes are soft, "i've missed you," your voice wobbles as you speak, tears flooding your eyes against your will

you hold his face in your hands, a gentle reminder that he's really there, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks, "no tears," he mumbles, sounding like he could cry too

in your best attempt to stop crying you kiss him, softly and slowly, letting him sigh contently against your lips. his hands slide up your legs, settling on your waist as he leans into you, pushing your body back until your laying underneath him

he pauses to breathe, eyes searching yours wildly while he hovers over you. his hips roll against yours, a soft gasp passes your lips as a whimper tumbles from his, "just," he pauses, his eyes shutting slowly, "need you," his forehead presses against yours

"i'm here," you whimper quietly, feeling his cock pressing against you, hard and tenting in his trousers. he hums against your jaw before pulling your bottom lip between his while his hand drops down between your bodies

your back arches immediately when he touches you through your trousers and panties, soft circles being rubbed over your clothed clit. "sit up," his voice is muffled by your lips on his but you get the gist, holding your body up just enough for him to get his hands up underneath your shirt

the loss of touch on your pussy makes you whine and paired with the cold air brushing over your nipples, you become desperate. he leaves a sloppy trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck, groaning gently to himself when he gets to your tit

his hair tickles against your chest and your fingers slide up his neck, tugging on the hairs at the base, "spence," you plead, his mouth on your nipple and his fingers against your clit becoming more teasing than anything else

"i know," he breathes hard and kisses your collarbone before he stands up, towering over you. his fingers slip underneath the waist of your trousers, gripping and tugging to pull both your trousers and panties down your legs, discarding them on the floor as you sit up

spencer steps between your legs, knowing what you're going to do before you can ask, he hasn't got time that now. he hisses when you get your hands on him, wrapping softly around him as he pushes his pyjama's down so he can step out of them

the tip of his cock weeps in your hand, precome leaking over the pad of your thumb, "fuck, angel," spencer groans through gritted teeth, his fingers tangling into your hair as his head tilts back

you lean forwards, pressing soft open mouthed kisses from the base of his cock to the tip, barely sliding your lips around the head before he's pushing you away, "don’t, i'll come,"

he's always been sensitive but after months of not being able to touch you, to have you, it's increased tenfold. you flop back down onto the bed, watching him carefully as he leans over you, his hand between your bodies once more

slowly he drags his fingers through your folds, spreading the wetness from your entrance to your clit, smiling softly to himself when your fingers wrap loosely around his wrist

"c'mere," you whimper softly, pulling his hand away from you so he crowds your space. your nails dig into his shoulder while your other hand guides his cock to where you need him, "please, please ple-,"

spencer thrusts forwards, filling you in one swift movement. he grunts deeply against your neck, listening to you moaning, your head tilted back against the mattress

after a moment, he starts to move, pulling his cock out until it's just the tip resting against your hole and then he's pushing straight back in, splitting you open

your nails dig into the back of his neck, holding his head against you, his breath and lips ghosting over your skin. your other hand trails over his shoulder blade, scratching lightly until you're pulling whimpers from your boyfriend

"i'm not going to last honey," spencer groans, his chest rumbling against yours and his hips bumping against the back of your thighs, creating a gentle slap every time

"i know," you reply softly, moving your hand from his back and down to your clit. wet, sticky sounds fill the room from your fingers and where spencer is fucking into you like it's the last thing he will ever do

he grunts and groans against your jaw, his mouth open, matching yours where a steady stream of whimpers tumble from between your lips. he adjusts his hips, thrusting into you from a slightly new angle, the tip of his cock pressing impossibly deep into you

"oh fuck," you whine, arching away from the mattress. your tits bounce slightly, nipples catching against his chest. spencer huffs, cheeks puffing out as he licks over your nipple

his free hand slides into yours, fingers tangling together by the side of your head, squeezing each other gently as his cock starts to twitch, the veins on his cock rubbing against your walls

"i'm so close," you cry, fingers frantically rubbing over your soaked pussy. tears slip down your cheeks, the feeling of spencer everywhere, over you, against you, inside you being far too much for you to handle

"can feel it," spencer groans, throwing his head back when you clench around him, trapping him there, "so good for me angel, i've missed you so much," he rambles, repeatedly pushing the tip of his cock against a spot only he can reach

his pelvis pushes your fingers against your clit in time with his thrusts, causing your brain to switch off, reducing you to a crying, whimpering mess underneath him, completely blissed out

"god," spencer whimpers, a sound you'll never get sick of hearing, "angel, i can't ho-, fuck, i'm going to come," he whines, high pitched and panting hard

you turn towards your hands, still clasped together at your side. you kiss at the vein on his forearm, dragging your lips up his arm as your orgasm takes over, your entire body shaking

spencer comes at the same time you do, cock jerking inside of you as you tighten around him. both of you moan and pant loudly, your body shivering slightly when come floods your cunt, thick and warm, filling you up more after every wave

"oh my god," you sigh gently, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into you, his weight fully pressing you into the mattress, "i love you," you mumble, peppering kisses over his temple

“love you more,” spencer hums, scooping your body up carefully, making sure he stays inside of you. he manoeuvres you around so he’s laying against the bed and you’re on top of him

“never leave me again,” you whisper, your head lolling into the crook of his neck as his fingers trail up the dip in your spine softly, “please,”

“never, i promise”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

a/n i proofread this but if you see a mistake, holla at me

[fashionteahouse]

i know deeeppppp dowwwnnnnn in my soul that paul is sooooo good at eating 🐱 like that boy eating like his life depends on it

i want a fic (make it long pls ) like this and i'll visit you in your dream to kiss you 💳💳💳💳💳💳💳💳💳💳💳

your soul is soo right 🤭 hope you enjoy :)

pretty - paul x reader

Cheeks were scorching hot like a hot plate. Pulling back with a sensual smack, not wanting to detach from each other’s lips, you look at Paul’s lustful face.

Two sets of warm hands press down gently on your shoulders, making you move backwards. With your back on his couch, you watch as he moves down and places his lips on the front of your underwear.

“That tickles.” you whisper out, sporting a small grin.

“Just relax.” he whispers back to you, rubbing his hands up your stomach, making your hips naturally relax before his face.

Your thinly cloth covered mound was hot and wet from Paul’s mouth. Eating at you before yanking the underwear down. He just couldn’t wait to open his present. Clutching on the sides of your panties, he pulls them down swiftly.

The blow of his breath as he stares down in awe, makes you squirm a bit. You watch him watch you as he wets his lips as if he was a starving man staring at a hearty meal.

Moving his face forward, he takes one long swipe of you with his tongue as you softly gasp and close your eyes at the sensation. You were unsure at first, if you wanted him to, but you were glad he talked you into trying this. He almost jumped for joy on the spot when he found out from you that he was the first person to do this to you.

Staring up, you pant as he swiped his tongue deep on your swollen nub, making you rock your hips to his tongue. Clutching onto handfuls of his hair, he lays his cheek down to tongue more of your moist skin.

Trembling, your legs wobble and he places two hands on the side of your hips, licking long licks as your hips follow him. Legs clenched strongly around his head, it didn’t hurt him at all. If anything, it was his motivation to keep going. You held onto his hair for dear life, keeping him close but being mind blown at the stimulated feeling that he was able to produce out of you. Gripping a bit to keep you from moving away or from moving back, he continues his rhythm with his tongue as your body arched and your hips grounded against his face.

After coming, he pulls back and you thought he was done. Only for him to wide the inside of your legs from being clenched and sloppily lap your natural juices.

Your head goes from side to side as you felt like you couldn’t breathe, you breathed out a swallow of air that you gulped, only for it to come out as a lengthy and breathy moan. Paul took his opportunity to let your legs open further, letting your glistening and swollen flesh meet his talented tongue over and over again. The noises alone made your hand to try to clutch to the parts of the couch.

Who needed drugs when the ecstasy was poured right on his tongue? Circling his tongue on the pearl that was between your legs and closing his lips around it, you convulsed a bit and pushed his head away, you needed to breathe and you felt like he was sucking the life out of you. As much as it felt good, you had to tap out.

He does nothing but brings out a deep chuckle as he lets you taste yourself on his moist lips. Even though you couldn’t breathe, you brought him to your mouth whenever you took a couple of breaths.

You watch him as he kneels to his knees in front of the sitting part of the couch. He takes your legs, to open yourself back up in front of him but you quickly retract your legs and sit up.

“I can’t. You’re too hot.” you pant out, grabbing your underwear as he wipes his mouth with his hand, muffling his chuckle.

It was as if you unlocked something in Paul. Since that night, his hands were hard to keep off of you.

Getting dressed to hang out with an old buddy of yours, Leah Clearwater, his hand travels up the skirt that you’re wearing as he leans his lips to your ear.

“You’re so pretty.” he sensually whispers in your ear, trailing his hand to the front of your body. Blushing and feeling like your stomach was doing a million jumping jacks, you had to stay strong. Peeling yourself from his grasp, you turn to him face to face.

“I have to go soon.” you tell him.

“I’ll be quick.” he says, his eyes almost in desperation, “I promise.” he finishes, never taking the palm of his hands off of your body. You stand there as you watch him watch you as he lowers himself and yank your underwear down.

He gives the heart between your legs a kiss, you jerk a bit from the spot he chose, your hands snaked in his hair.

With your lower body hanging halfway off the bed, Paul makes sure that your legs are nice and snug around, resting on his back.

He was a god that night. You kept chanting, “Oh god” to him. Clutching onto him, he didn’t let up. You lost count of how many cases of shakes he made you have. His pink tongue found its home between your wet folds and lathered up the lubricant that you were producing.

Slurping you up like soup, his deep moans went very great together with your high ones. Looking to the side, your phone lights up and vibrates.

“Paul.” you pant out to get his attention. By the way it sounded, it sounded like you were egging him on.

Deep slow licks started to take place as both legs clenched around his head and shook.

“Paul.” you say again but your hips invulnerability wave up as he moisturized your pearl with the wetness of his tongue.

“Jesus I’ve been out here for like 20 minutes.” Leah says as a catchy song comes onto the radio.

“Sorry.” you mutter as you click your seatbelt in after flipping in the passenger seat.

“Did you run a marathon or something before getting in?”

“No.” you say as color forms on your cheeks.

Fanning your hand, you squint your eyes a bit as the sun beats down its heat onto your body.

“It’s so hot.” you say to no one in particular.

But the only person who was driving was Paul. It was just the two of you after all.

Agreeing with you, he detours takes you to an ice cream parlor. After getting the two cones of different flavors, both sets of pink tongues scoop up the cold cream.

You gush how good it is while Paul keeps an eye on you. Looking back, something about the look on his face is familiar. But you can’t quiet put your finger on it.

You watch as his tongue poked through his lips, licking the ice cream, reminding you of the time you had fun with his tongue. His eyes turn mischievous, flicking his tongue a bit as he licks the ice cream for effect. He then grins and chuckle. You realize you were in a trance. He points to something.

Melted ice cream dripped down the side of your arm, you didn’t know how long you watched him. Snapping out of the trance he had you in, you accept the napkin that he gives to you. Wiping off the mess, he speaks.

“Hey.” he says.

You look up.

“We don’t have to meet them at the beach today.” he says, the pack wanted to go swimming together on this hot day.

“We don’t?” you question, bawling up the messy napkin that you were finished using.

“You weren’t feeling good…right?” he asks. He stared at you, patiently as you caught his drift. A slow but shy smile spread across your face and you look down with a blush and say with a soft but certain voice, “Right.”

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C3)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (5.9K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

─────────��───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────────── 03: Making a Splash in the Pool of Love…Yikes

There were two types of people at the pool: those who gracefully slipped into the water like elegant swans, and those who cannonballed in with all the subtlety of a collapsing deck chair. I, unfortunately, was in a third category entirely—one reserved for the terminally awkward, perpetually flustered, and inexplicably magnetized to the deep end of mortification.

Oscar’s sisters were already in the water, splashing each other like some synchronized squad of professional pool gremlins. Mae was attempting what looked like a half-hearted handstand, her legs wobbling in the air before she toppled over, sending a spray of water in every direction. Edie was lounging on a float, sunglasses perched on her nose, lazily steering herself with one foot as if she were on a private yacht instead of a neon pink flamingo. Hattie, meanwhile, was narrating the entire scene like a sports commentator, complete with dramatic sound effects and questionable Australian accents.

And then there was Oscar, sitting poolside with all the ease of someone who belonged there, flashing that same infuriatingly smug grin every time he caught my eye. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a surf magazine—lean muscles, tousled hair, and the kind of relaxed confidence that made you both admire and want to dunk him underwater simultaneously.

Simply put, that sight, holy hell; absolutely delectable.

I was perched on the edge, feet dangling in the cool water, trying to summon the courage to just jump in and get it over with. But of course, that was when Oscar decided it was the perfect time to make things ten times worse.

“C’mon, what are you waiting for?” he called, tipping his sunglasses down just enough to look at me over the rim. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little water.”

I shot him a glare, but my attempt at intimidation was ruined by the fact that I was gripping the edge of the pool like it was my only lifeline. “I’m not scared,” I retorted, though my voice wavered. “I’m just… enjoying the view.” Which, unfortunately, sounded way more flirtatious than I intended.

Great. Just great.

Oscar’s grin widened, and he pushed himself up, sauntering over with a casualness that made my pulse race. “The view, huh? Glad I’m providing some entertainment,” he teased, crouching down beside me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I’ve gotta say, you’re missing out. Water’s perfect.”

And before I could protest, he stood up, gave me a cheeky wink, and cannonballed into the pool, sending a wave of water crashing over my legs and half-soaking my cover-up. I let out a yelp, half in surprise and half in pure exasperation as Oscar surfaced, slicking his hair back and laughing like he’d just pulled off the prank of the century.

“Welcome to the splash zone!” Mae cheered, throwing up her arms in mock celebration as Oscar floated by, still grinning like he’d won some imaginary competition.

I wiped the water from my face, feeling my resolve finally crack. It was either jump in or spend the rest of the afternoon as Oscar’s personal splash target, and I was too stubborn to give him that satisfaction. With one last deep breath, I stood up, tossed my cover-up to the side, and took the plunge, diving in with more determination than grace.

As I broke the surface, sputtering but exhilarated, Oscar swam up beside me, his smile impossibly bright. “There you go,” he said, flicking water at me playfully. “Now you’re officially one of us.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “One of the loonies, you mean.”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with something that looked a lot like admiration. “Exactly. Welcome to the club.”

Before I could catch my breath, Oscar splashed me again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Alright, now that you’re here, we’re playing a game of chicken. Me and you against Edie and Hattie. They’ve been running their mouths all day about how they’re undefeated.”

I blinked, caught completely off-guard by the suggestion. “Wait, chicken? You mean the one where you sit on someone’s shoulders and try to knock the other team down?”

Oscar nodded, his grin wide and challenging. “That’s the one. And don’t worry, I’m a solid base. You just have to keep Edie and Hattie from cheating, which is honestly the real challenge.”

I hesitated, glancing over at Edie and Hattie, who were already gearing up and flexing like they were entering an Olympic event. Edie perched confidently on Hattie’s shoulders, waving like a gladiator preparing for battle. The thought of sitting on Oscar’s shoulders, with everyone watching—and worse, his hands around my legs—made me momentarily freeze. Not to mention, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be manhandled by a guy I’d only known for three hours, no matter how distractingly good-looking he was.

“Nah, I think I’ll just watch,” I said, trying to sound casual, even though my heart was thumping at the mere idea of the closeness. “I’m not really… a chicken kind of girl.”

Oscar wasn’t having it. He swam closer, his expression teasing but with a hint of something else, a playful determination that made it clear he wasn’t going to let me off that easily. “C’mon, don’t be a chicken about playing chicken,” he coaxed, his tone dripping with challenge. “It’ll be fun. Plus, I promise I won’t drop you. I’ve got a good grip.”

I shot him a skeptical look, my cheeks heating up again. “And why exactly should I trust you?”

Oscar’s smirk widened as he shifted his stance, flexing his biceps with dramatic flair, his movements comically slow and deliberate. He struck a pose like a cheesy fitness model from a 90s infomercial, his muscles bulging as he exaggerated each flex with a ridiculous amount of confidence. The water glistened on his tanned skin, catching the sunlight in a way that would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t so over the top. He raised one arm and gave it a solid flex, his bicep swelling noticeably, and with a playful wink, he leaned in and kissed it like it was the crowning achievement of his life.

“Because these guns,” he declared, pausing to flex the other arm for good measure, “are the most reliable thing you’ll ever sit on.” He threw in a cocky wink that would’ve made any movie villain proud, followed by an exaggerated smooch to his own bicep that echoed like a cartoon sound effect.

Mae burst out laughing, nearly choking on her drink. “Oh my god, Oscar, you absolute dork. Stop embarrassing yourself!”

Edie rolled her eyes so hard I was worried they’d get stuck. “Seriously, bro, you’re one cheesy line away from handing out autographed photos.”

Oscar ignored them, continuing to pose as if he were standing in front of a crowd of adoring fans. He shifted his weight, flexing his triceps now, turning slightly to show off the muscles rippling along his back, all while maintaining that smirk that screamed, I know I look good, and I’m not sorry about it.

I couldn’t help but laugh, torn between genuine amusement and secondhand embarrassment. He was so shameless, so ridiculously over-the-top, that I almost didn’t notice the way his muscles moved with effortless strength beneath the surface. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I could feel my cheeks heating up despite myself. The confidence, the sheer audacity of it all, was so uniquely Oscar, and I couldn’t deny the flutter of nerves—or something else—that danced in my stomach.

I snorted, half-laughing, half-cringing at his display. “Oh my god, that was the worst line I’ve ever heard. Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “And besides, you get to help me take those two down a notch. It’s a win-win.”

I looked at Edie and Hattie, who were already smirking at us from across the pool, and I felt a sudden surge of competitiveness rise up. Fine. If Oscar wanted a partner, I’d give him one—and maybe wipe that smug look off his sisters’ faces while I was at it.

“Alright, fine,” I relented, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a grin. “But if you drop me, I’m holding it against you forever.”

Oscar’s smile was blinding. “Deal.” He turned around and crouched slightly, patting his broad shoulders. “Hop on. I’ll keep you steady.”

I climbed onto his back, trying not to think too hard about how solid he felt under my hands, or the way his muscles flexed as he gripped my legs to steady me. I could feel every inch of his strength, and it was both comforting and ridiculously distracting. The water sloshed around us as he rose, effortlessly lifting me onto his shoulders. My heart pounded, but I tried to focus on the game instead of the feel of his strong, tanned skin under my hands.

“Hold on tight,” Oscar said, his voice light but filled with excitement. “We’re going to take them down.”

As we squared off against Edie and Hattie, the pool’s surface rippled around us, creating a vibrant, sun-dappled stage for our impending battle. I could feel every subtle shift of Oscar’s body beneath me, his muscles tensing and flexing as he adjusted his stance, effortlessly finding the right balance to keep us steady. Each small movement sent little jolts of energy through me, and I couldn’t ignore the sheer strength radiating from him, his back firm and his shoulders broad under my grip. He gave his shoulders a little roll, almost like a warm-up, making sure I felt every deliberate flex, each slight adjustment meant to show off his easy power.

“Comfortable up there?” he asked, his voice laced with that familiar teasing edge. He tilted his head back just enough so I could see the playful spark in his eyes, his cheeky grin widening as he caught my expression. He looked absurdly pleased with himself, like this was all part of some grand performance and I was his main audience.

“Oh yeah, super comfy,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, but I couldn’t suppress the grin tugging at my lips. It was impossible not to smile; his energy was contagious, and the way he kept subtly flexing as if daring me to notice was half infuriating, half amusing. I squeezed my thighs around his neck for stability, feeling the corded strength in his shoulders respond instinctively. It was like being on top of a coiled spring—every movement precise, controlled, and brimming with unspoken confidence.

He chuckled, his laughter vibrating through me. “Good to hear. I’m not just holding you up—I’m making sure you’re getting the five-star experience.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t deny the exhilaration bubbling up inside me. Despite my initial reluctance, there was something undeniably thrilling about being perched on his shoulders, high above the water, surrounded by the sounds of splashing and laughter. The sun was warm on my skin, and the water glistened around us, catching the light in dazzling, ever-shifting patterns. And then there was Oscar’s energy—playful, supportive, and just cocky enough to make me want to win this silly game purely out of spite.

Oscar shifted beneath me, his muscles rippling as he adjusted to keep me perfectly balanced. His hands gripped my legs firmly, his touch sure and steady as if to remind me that, no matter how chaotic things got, he wasn’t letting me fall. I caught a quick glimpse of his grin, the way he was clearly enjoying every second of this, and it was impossible not to feel a rush of adrenaline mixed with something softer, something that made my heart beat just a little faster.

“Ready to take them down?” he asked, giving his shoulders another purposeful flex that sent a shiver through me, his playful arrogance on full display. “I’ve got the strength; you just bring the attitude.”

I tightened my grip, feeling a surge of competitive spirit rise within me. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of that,” I shot back, smirking down at him. “Just keep flexing, and we’ve got this in the bag.”

Oscar laughed, his eyes flicking up to meet mine with a look that was half challenge, half flirtation. “You got it. Hang tight, and let’s show these amateurs how it’s done.”

Edie shot us a look, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re going down!” she called out, already reaching forward with determination.

“We’ll see about that!” Oscar taunted back, adjusting his stance and giving his sisters a cocky nod. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the best rider in the game.”

The match was on, and I focused all my energy on staying balanced and pushing back against Edie’s determined attacks. Oscar’s hands gripped my legs tightly, holding me steady as we twisted and turned in the water. I could feel his muscles working beneath me, and every so often, he’d flex just a bit more than necessary, as if to remind me of the strength holding me up.

“You sure you don’t mind all this muscle under you?” Oscar teased, glancing up with a flirtatious smile. “I mean, I can tone it down if it’s too distracting.”

I laughed, half-exasperated, half-flustered by his shameless flirting. “Just focus on the game, muscle man.”

Oscar chuckled, giving me another little flex just for show. “Oh, I am. But if it helps, think of this as a free ride. Gym membership included.”

With one final push, I managed to shove Edie just enough to throw her off balance, sending her toppling back into the water with a dramatic splash. The victory was sweet, made even better by the stunned look on Hattie’s face as she struggled to keep her sister afloat. Edie resurfaced with a gasp, water streaming from her hair as she spluttered and shot me a half-impressed, half-annoyed glare.

“Ha!” I cheered, throwing my arms up in triumph, barely managing to keep my balance on Oscar’s shoulders. “We won!” My voice echoed with a mix of disbelief and exhilaration, and I couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride.

Oscar laughed, his joy bubbling up as he spun us around in a celebratory twirl, the water splashing up in playful waves around us. I squealed, clutching his head to keep steady, but the sound was full of delight rather than fear. It was impossible not to get caught up in the moment, the sudden thrill of winning, and the infectious energy of everyone’s laughter.

“Told you we’d win,” Oscar said, looking up at me with that signature grin—broad, boyish, and brimming with a proud satisfaction that was almost contagious. He squeezed my legs slightly, just enough to remind me of his grip, his strength, and the fact that he’d been holding me up the whole time. “I never lose when I’ve got the right partner.”

I blushed, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through me at his words. The compliment was wrapped in that same playful bravado, but there was something genuine beneath it that caught me off guard. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and I tried to play it cool, though my grin was impossible to hide. “Well, I guess you’re lucky to have me, then,” I teased, flicking a bit of water down at him.

Oscar chuckled, adjusting his hold and giving his shoulders a little roll as if to flex just one last time. “Lucky doesn’t even cover it,” he quipped, his voice dipping into something almost sincere, and I found myself momentarily lost in the playful glint of his eyes.

Meanwhile, Hattie was already splashing water at Edie, who was still bobbing indignantly in the pool. “You got beat by a newbie!” Hattie crowed, laughing at her sister’s expense. “I thought you said you were unstoppable?”

Edie scowled but couldn’t suppress a grin, brushing her wet hair out of her face. “Alright, alright, you got us. But don’t get too cocky—we’ll be back for a rematch,” she said, pointing a challenging finger at me. “Next time, you’re going down.”

Mae paddled over, clapping her hands in mock applause. “That was epic! New girl just dethroned the queens of chicken. How does it feel to be pool royalty?”

I couldn’t stop laughing, the adrenaline still coursing through me as I basked in the impromptu victory. “Feels pretty damn good,” I said, shrugging nonchalantly even though I was still buzzing from the rush. “But I’ll let you guys keep your crowns. I’m more of a co-ruler kind of girl.”

Oscar tilted his head back, looking at me with a playful admiration that made my heart skip a beat. “See? She’s humble, too. The whole package,” he said, giving me a slight squeeze with his shoulders that made me tighten my grip reflexively.

“Okay, seriously, stop flirting,” Mae groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she splashed water at us. “It’s getting nauseating.”

Hattie laughed, shaking her head as she swam closer. “Yeah, tone it down, Romeo. No one wants to watch you make goo-goo eyes while you’re being a human ladder.”

Oscar just grinned, unbothered by their teasing, and looked up at me with an exaggerated wink. “Sorry, can’t help it. It’s not every day you get to team up with someone who makes winning look this good.”

I laughed, trying to ignore the way my cheeks flamed up at his unabashed flirtation. “You’re ridiculous,” I said, but my voice was light, and I couldn’t deny the flutter in my chest. For a moment, everything felt easy—like we were just two kids messing around, laughing, and letting the summer sun work its magic.

Mae, ever the bundle of energy, suddenly clapped her hands together, splashing water everywhere. “Alright, next game! We’re playing pool volleyball. Hattie, Edie, you’re with me. New girl and Romeo are on the other team,” she announced, pointing dramatically between us. “Time to see if you two are a one-hit wonder.”

Oscar’s eyes lit up at the challenge. “Oh, we’ll take you down,” he declared confidently, wading over to grab the neon volleyball bobbing nearby. “We’re basically undefeated at this point. Right, partner?”

“Undefeated for exactly one game,” I teased, but I couldn’t help feeling a competitive spark reignite. Mae quickly set up the makeshift “net,” which was really just a length of pool noodle stretched across the center of the pool, anchored down with pool chairs. It was half crooked, barely staying afloat, and not remotely official—but in that moment, it felt like the real deal.

Edie and Hattie took their places with Mae, who was already taunting us from across the water. “Ready to get wrecked? This is our turf, and we don’t go easy,” Mae called out, bouncing the ball a few times as if she were prepping for a major league serve.

Oscar leaned in close to me, his shoulder brushing mine under the water as he whispered, “They’re just sore losers. We’ve got this.”

The game kicked off with a wild serve from Mae that went soaring way over everyone’s heads and smacked into the side of the pool with a splash. “Nice aim,” I called, biting back a laugh.

“Shut up, it’s a warm-up!” Mae shot back, blushing as she retrieved the ball. She tried again, this time with a little more finesse, and the game was on.

Oscar and I found our rhythm surprisingly quickly, moving in sync as if we’d been playing together for ages. He’d bump the ball effortlessly, sending it just high enough for me to set it up perfectly, and I’d watch as he leapt out of the water with an exaggerated show of power, slamming it back over the noodle with a loud splash. Every point we scored, Oscar would raise his hand for a high-five, which quickly devolved into splashing water at each other playfully.

“Nice spike, partner!” I called, the thrill of teamwork coursing through me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun doing something so simple. There was no pressure, no awkwardness—just pure, unfiltered enjoyment.

“Same to you!” Oscar responded, winking at me as he adjusted his swim shorts, the action so casual yet somehow making my heart skip a beat. “You’re making this too easy.”

The banter kept flowing as we played, each side fiercely determined not to lose. At one point, Hattie attempted a dramatic dive to save the ball, splashing wildly and nearly taking Edie down with her. “Friendly fire!” Edie yelped, giggling as they both resurfaced, water streaming from their hair.

Mae, ever competitive, huffed and glared at her sisters. “C’mon, focus! They’re not even that good!”

Oscar chuckled, elbowing me gently, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Hear that? We’re ‘not even that good.’ Guess we’ll have to try harder.”

I blinked, caught completely off guard by the not-so-subtle innuendo laced in his words. The way he said it—low, playful, with just the slightest hint of mischief—made my face heat up instantly. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck and flooding my cheeks, and there was no hiding it. It was like my skin had betrayed me, broadcasting exactly how flustered I felt.

I tried to play it off, clearing my throat and splashing water at him as a distraction. “Y-Yeah, maybe you should work on that,” I shot back, aiming for a confident tone, but my voice wavered just enough to make Oscar’s grin widen. His eyes were locked on mine, sparkling with a knowing look that made my stomach flip.

“Is that a challenge?” he teased, his smirk growing as he leaned a little closer, clearly enjoying how flustered I’d become. “Because I’m always up for trying harder.”

I sputtered, feeling the heat intensify across my face. This wasn’t fair—he was effortlessly charming, and I was just trying not to combust on the spot. “I meant at volleyball, obviously,” I muttered, though my flustered state made the retort sound weak. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Oscar laughed, the sound rich and teasing as he splashed me back. “Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he said, but the playful glint in his eyes told me he was fully aware of how his words had landed. “But hey, if you’re blushing this much already, maybe we really should up our game.”

I could practically feel my cheeks burning, and I desperately tried to focus on anything other than the way his grin made my heart race. “You’re impossible,” I managed to say, but my tone lacked any real bite. It was hard to stay annoyed when he looked at me like that, with his eyes dancing between flirtation and genuine enjoyment.

Oscar just shrugged, still grinning as he pushed his wet hair back from his forehead. “Only when it’s this much fun,” he said, giving me one last playful wink before turning his attention back to the game.

With one final serve from Oscar, the ball sailed perfectly over the net, and Edie reached for it just a second too late, sending it skimming across the water and out of bounds. The game was ours, and we celebrated like we’d just won an Olympic gold.

“Victory!” Oscar shouted, throwing his hands up in triumph before pulling me into a playful, wet hug, lifting me off my feet briefly before setting me back down with a splash. “We’re officially unstoppable.”

I laughed, caught up in the infectious joy of the moment, even as I tried to shove him away playfully. “We’re a pretty good team,” I admitted, feeling the heat in my cheeks again as I realized how much I meant it.

“Good? We’re amazing,” Oscar corrected, his grin wide and genuine. He was still holding onto my arm, and the closeness between us was impossible to ignore. “And just for the record, I’m always down for a rematch. Same team?”

I looked at him, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, the cool water around us, and the flutter of excitement that had been there all day. “Same team,” I agreed, smiling as I splashed him one last time. “But only if you promise to keep showing off.”

Oscar’s laugh rang out clear and carefree, echoing across the pool. “Deal. With you around, I can’t help it.”

Before I could fire back a playful retort, the sound of my mom’s voice cut through the afternoon air. “Hey, everyone! Dinner’s almost ready!” she called from the patio, waving a spatula like a dinner bell. “Come dry off and get ready to eat!”

Immediately, the savory aroma of grilled kabobs wafted toward us, filling the air with the smoky scent of marinated chicken, bell peppers, and onions, all sizzling perfectly on the grill. My stomach rumbled in response, and I could already imagine the burst of flavors—the juicy, seasoned meat, the slight char from the grill, and the sweet tang of roasted vegetables. I could smell warm, buttery corn on the cob, the faint, sweet scent of freshly baked bread, and the mouthwatering aroma of garlic butter wafting from a pan of golden potatoes roasting nearby. The sharp, tangy scent of freshly made tzatziki filled the air, mingling with hints of lemon zest and olive oil, making the whole backyard smell like a perfect summer feast.

I glanced at the others, who were already paddling toward the pool’s edge, eager to get their hands on the spread. “Guess it’s time to eat,” I said, half to myself, but Oscar was still watching me with that easy smile, his gaze lingering a little too long.

“Need a hand?” he asked, swimming over and extending his arm to help me out. His eyes stayed locked on mine, but as I reached up to take his hand, I could feel the weight of his gaze trailing over me—curious, appreciative, and making my pulse quicken all at once.

“Uh, sure,” I mumbled, feeling awkwardly aware of the way the water dripped off my skin, each droplet tracing a cool path down my legs. Oscar’s grip was firm and warm as he pulled me up, his fingers wrapping around mine with an effortless strength that sent a jolt of awareness straight to my core. His touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go, and when he finally did, the absence of his hand felt oddly significant, like a small but noticeable void.

For a brief moment, everything else seemed to blur into the background—the laughter from the pool, the faint sizzle of the grill, the warm chatter of his sisters in the distance. It was just the two of us, and I was hyper-aware of every detail: the way his eyes traced the water cascading off my legs, the slight upward curve of his lips as if he found the whole scene incredibly fascinating, and the way his gaze felt almost tangible, brushing over me like a warm caress.

I reached for my towel, wrapping it around myself in a clumsy attempt to shield against the sudden vulnerability of his stare. I tried to focus on drying off, rubbing the soft fabric over my arms and shoulders, but every time I looked up, Oscar’s eyes were still on me—intense, unwavering, and far too distracting.

He leaned casually against the pool’s edge, his wet hair slicked back, the sun catching droplets on his skin that made him look like some kind of Greek statue come to life. But it was his expression that really caught me off guard—his usual playful smirk had softened, replaced by something more thoughtful, almost contemplative. It was like he was seeing me differently, not just the girl who had been splashing and laughing with him all day, but someone who held his attention in a way that felt new and unexpected.

“You alright there?” Oscar asked, his voice low and a little rough around the edges, pulling me out of my tangled thoughts. He didn’t look away, and his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—curiosity, admiration, maybe even a hint of something deeper.

“Yeah, just… you know, drying off,” I replied, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrayed me, coming out breathless and light. I patted my hair with the towel, desperately hoping it would distract from the heat creeping up my neck and cheeks. But his gaze stayed locked on mine, like he was searching for something in my expression that I didn’t even know was there.

Oscar’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “You sure? You look a little… flustered,” he said, the teasing back in his tone, but softer, gentler than before. There was a hint of something else in his voice too, something that made my heart skip.

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it off even though I could feel my blush deepening under his scrutiny. “I’m not flustered,” I said, but it sounded weak even to my ears. “It’s just… hot out, and the water’s cold, and…” I trailed off, realizing I was babbling.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my struggle to keep my composure. “Sure, blame the weather,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar flirtation that made my pulse quicken. “But for the record, you’re pulling it off pretty well.”

I bit back a smile, unable to meet his eyes directly as I wrapped the towel tighter around me. “Thanks, I guess,” I mumbled, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and oddly exhilarated by his attention. He made it impossible to just shrug things off, to pretend like his lingering gaze didn’t affect me when, in reality, it felt like the most charged thing in the entire backyard.

Oscar pushed off the pool’s edge and stepped closer, his presence warm and solid, droplets of water still glistening on his skin. “You know,” he said, voice low and intimate, “I’ve seen a lot of people get out of pools, but none of them have ever managed to make it look like… this.”

I stared at him, caught between laughter and mortification. “Like what? Wet?” I shot back, trying to diffuse the tension, but it only made him smile more, a lazy, appreciative smile that sent another wave of heat rushing to my face.

“No,” he replied, taking a beat as if considering his next words carefully. “Like you’re the best thing I’ve seen all day.” His voice was quieter now, more earnest, and the sincerity in his eyes made my breath hitch.

The world seemed to tilt just a little, the sounds around us fading into the background as I searched for a response that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete idiot. “You… you’re ridiculous,” I said, barely managing to keep my voice steady. But there was no hiding the way my cheeks were blazing or the way my heart was pounding in my chest.

Oscar just grinned, seemingly pleased with himself as he picked up his own towel and started to dry off, though his eyes kept drifting back to me every few moments. It was like he couldn’t help himself, like something about this silly, sun-soaked afternoon had shifted between us in a way that neither of us fully understood yet.

I tried to play it cool, focusing on the scent of the food that was calling us closer. But it was hard to ignore the electric current in the air, the way Oscar’s eyes lingered on me with an intensity that made me feel seen, maybe even a little wanted. The warmth of his gaze seemed to burn hotter than the sun, like he was committing every detail of me to memory—the way my hair clung damply to my shoulders, the flush of my skin, the shy smiles I kept trying to hide.

I fidgeted with my towel, feeling suddenly self-conscious, but Oscar’s attention never wavered. He stepped closer, his expression still caught between playful and sincere, as if he was searching for something in my reaction that would let him keep pushing the boundaries. His fingers grazed the towel slung over his shoulder as he looked at me, and there was a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before—a kind of unspoken question hanging between us.

“You don’t have to be so modest, you know,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with that familiar edge of teasing that I’d grown so used to. But there was a gentleness there, too, a hint of something more genuine. “It’s okay to let people see how great you are.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift from playful banter to something more personal, something that made my heart stumble. “You’re really laying it on thick today, huh?” I said, trying to laugh it off, but the words came out shakier than I intended.

Oscar shrugged, his smile turning softer, less cocky. “Only because you make it easy,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The way he said it—without hesitation, without the usual bravado—made my pulse quicken, and I had to look away, pretending to adjust my towel just to break the intensity of his stare.

But he wasn’t letting up. As we walked toward the patio, his gaze never strayed far, occasionally dipping down as if he couldn’t help but take in every detail. I could feel the weight of it, warm and steady, and it made my skin tingle in a way that was both exhilarating and unnerving.

We reached the table where the food was spread out—a colorful array of kabobs, salads, and bowls brimming with sides. My mom was fussing over the final touches, sprinkling fresh herbs over a platter of roasted vegetables, while the others were already grabbing plates and chatting animatedly. But I was still caught in the lingering tension of Oscar’s words, the way he’d looked at me like I was something special, something worth noticing.

“Hey,” Oscar said softly, catching my arm just as I reached for a plate. His touch was gentle, a light brush of his fingers that sent another wave of heat rushing through me. “I meant what I said, you know. You really are… something else.”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. His eyes were serious, searching mine as if waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. And for once, I didn’t have a sarcastic comeback or a teasing remark. All I could do was nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks, Oscar.”

His smile widened, this time more genuine than any of the smirks he’d flashed all day. “Anytime,” he said, his voice full of unspoken promises that made my chest tighten.

As I picked up my plate and moved to join the others, I could still feel the weight of his gaze on me, warm and unyielding. It was a look that said everything and nothing all at once, a silent acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, this was more than just a poolside flirtation. And as we sat down to eat, surrounded by the familiar hum of conversation and laughter, I couldn’t help but wonder where this unexpected spark between us would lead—or if I was ready to find out.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Andy Barber’s wife has taken one step forward, but also two steps back.

prompts. | Andy Barber + Mob/Mafia + “Take you home? This is home. You aren’t going anywhere.” + Stockholm syndrome, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Andy Barber x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, captivity, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, conditioning/grooming, pet names, ex-basement wife, past use of restraints, manipulation, gaslighting, housewife kink, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

When Andy’s associates ask him—their boss—how his wife is doing, he always smiles and says you’re doing great. 

At first, this was not true. 

You were quite the brat—kicking, screaming, and crying at the mob boss whenever he’d come close to you. You did not adjust well to the basement until he had to teach you that this was your new life now, whether you liked it or not. And he promised you will like it—you must. 

But now, Andy’s words are honest. He even goes as far as to share your newest creations, like a cherry pie or a hand-knitted scarf. They all marvel and remark that he’s a lucky man. That he is.

The lock turns, and you know your husband is home. Anxiety fills you—you usually watch the time, but today, it seemingly slipped your mind. You enjoy your time to yourself, since you are free from the looming threat of messing things up for the mob boss.

You smooth your skirt and stand up, placing your cross-stitching hoop on the table beside you. You fold your hands and force a smile, hoping that the evening and night will be lovely. 

You have awaited his arrival all day, not knowing what to do with yourself when he isn’t around. It’s odd—you never were like this. But then again, your life was much different then. 

You’ve been preparing your request all day. You know it’s far-fetched—a dream so distant from your reality—but it doesn't hurt to try. Andy always says never to be afraid to ask him for something. 

Andy walks in and enables all the security features, though they’re no longer necessary. You know better than to try and escape. “Honey? I’m home,” he calls out, and you step out of the library he installed just for you. 

It was a gift for your five-month anniversary. That night, he fucked you for the first time without the need for restraints. 

“Hi,” you greet, walking up to him and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. Andy’s beard tickles your face, and for once, you don’t fight back your giggle. The first time it happened, he smiled so hard. But you were disgusted with yourself—you threw up a few moments later. 

“How was your day, sw– sweetie?” you ask, voice breaking. You’re not used to this, but you try just for your sweet husband. 

Andy grabs your arm and leads you to the dining room. Your steps are much shorter than his. Your ankles wobble in your heels, but he slows down just for you. How kind of him. No regular man would ever do that. 

“Oh, it was nice. Better now that you’re home,” you hum. Ever the gentleman, Andy pulls a chair out for you first and gestures for you to sit. You do as he says. You can’t help it. 

“Oh, yeah?” he chuckles, sitting down as well. You nod your head. Your smile doesn’t drop.

“You’re adorable, honey,” Andy coos. He rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up and loosens the top button, exhaling deeply.

“Long day?” you question, squeezing the edges of your seat. Your leg bounces, and you hope Andy doesn’t notice. He doesn’t need to worry about you—he already has so much on his plate. You would hate to be a bother. 

“You know it. But I’m glad to be home with you now, baby,” he says. “How about I get you a drink?” you offer, already standing up. Andy reaches for your wrist. “Later, sweetie. I just want to spend some time with you,” he tells you. 

Obediently, you listen. “Good girl.” The praise makes your inside warm. You love his kind words. You regret ever insulting him during those days. 

“Oh, well, I did want to ask you something…” you begin, exhaling shakily. Andy’s brow furrows in word, and he’s quick to place a hand on yours, rubbing your skin soothingly. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you alright?” he asks, and you quickly nod.

“Then what is it?” Andy urges, waiting patiently for whatever it is you have to say. “Don’t worry. I won’t get mad,” the much-feared mob boss promises.

You bite the bullet.

“I… want you to take me home,” you whisper, looking down at the table so you don’t have to watch his wrath form. 

A few moments of silence pass. Your breathing becomes rapid as you panic inwardly. 

“Take you home?” Andy eventually repeats, as if making sure he heard you right. You nod. “I mean– Us,” you quickly correct, though you know it does nothing to fix your blunder.

You curse yourself. How stupid are you? How selfish? Andy has given you so much—he has loved you like no man ever could. And here you are, throwing it all back in his face. 

You already start forming an apology, ready to take whatever punishment he’ll dole out. Even the basement. 

“This is home. You aren’t going anywhere,” Andy growls, fists and jaw clenching. 

Your vision blurs, and sobs swim in your voice. “I– I know. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry,” you begin, bursting into silent sobs. Your tears fall onto the oak table, streaking down your cheeks. 

Andy doesn’t say anything. “Pl– Please, Andy. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked,” you continue. He stares at you, his gaze hard. He swallows.

“Please, can we start over?” you beg, finally looking up at him. Andy subtly nods, and you’re about to thank him when he speaks up, interrupting you.

“What for dinner, sweetie?” Andy asks, looking at the kitchen. You go with what he does. “I haven’t made anything yet. I was waiting for you to come home,” you tell him.“How about we skip dinner, hm?” he offers, and you can see his eyes go dark. 

You smile at the innuendo. Whatever your husband wants. 

[drewsbuzzcut]

Christmas Trees & Ice Skating

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: mentions injuries but no actual injuries and slightly mentions panicking and fears

This takes place almost a year into their relationship!

“In the few years I’ve lived here, I’ve never come to see the Rockefeller tree. It’s beautiful,” you whisper, body rigid even though Mat’s hugging you from behind.

Right now you’re both on the ice rink, taking in the view of the Christmas tree. You’re feeling like a newborn deer, so Mat is holding onto you extra tight- not that you’re complaining.

“Yeah, it’s really cool. I’m glad I was able to be the first person you got to experience it with,” he mutters into the skin of your neck.

“I’m glad, too. Although I’m not glad I’m on ice and on skates,” you say, slowly turning around to face Mat, your feet wobbly.

“It’ll be okay. I’m going to help you as much as you need, baby,” he whispers in your ear.

“Say it again,” you request for him to use the pet name again, your body leaning into his.

“Baby,” he says in his soft voice that only you get to hear.

“You swear you won’t let me fall?” You ask, feet spread on the ice as you clutch onto the sleeves of Mat’s hoodie.

“I swear,” he claims, a hint of an amused smile gracing his features. His hands are placed on your hips to keep you from slipping.

“I cannot believe you’re making me do this,” you shriek, cheeks growing redder despite them already being red from the cold.

“It’s part of our deal! I do a little photo shoot with you and you let me teach you how to ice skate,” he reminds you of a prior deal you made with him.

“Fine. We can move now,” you say, feeling your nerves bubble in your stomach when he pulls you by your hands.

Your hands noticeably tremble in his hold, so he makes sure to tighten his grip. He’s moving backwards while you slowly start to move your legs.

“You got this!” He encourages you.

“I got this,” you say in a panicked laugh, body still shaking with nerves.

“You do! You just need to take a couple deep breaths and concentrate,” He assures you.

“Don’t let me go,” you whisper, still lightly laughing in disbelief.

“I won’t,” he claims.

“Oh my god! Mat!” You say as he starts to skate a little faster. Your hands pull out of his grips to fist the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Mathew, oh my god,” you say frantically, small little laughs falling from your lips as you try to disguise your fear.

“Babe, you’re doing just fine. Focus on something to take your mind off it,” he suggests.

You look up into his eyes, immediately feeling butterflies take over your nerves. He’s staring back at you. Maybe you should be taking in the sight of the crowded ice rink and the big Rockefeller tree, or focus on your movements, but you can’t help but stay focused on your boyfriend.

You’ve only been dating for around 10 months, but you already feel so much for the hockey player in front of you. You feel his hands squeeze yours and for a moment you feel everything slip away. You move to take a step towards Mat, desperately wanting his lips on yours, forgetting that you’re in skates. Your one step turns into you slipping, grabbing ahold of your boyfriend’s shoulders as you fall forward.

It takes Mat by surprise, so by trying to regain his balance, you both end up falling onto the ice. He doesn’t get to break your fall as you’re chest to chest with your back flat on the ice. His large body hovers over you as you look into each other’s eyes. It seems like Mat is extremely shocked and guilty. You huff in deep breaths, trying to calm your erratic heart.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He asks frantically. His eyes roam over your body, searching for any injuries.

“How can I trust you to score me a goal when I can’t even trust you to catch me when I fall?” You tease him but it makes him stressed.

He immediately starts blabbering, spewing apologies and questions about your potential injuries. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are a shade of red you’ve never seen on his face. You think it’s lovely, and you know you want to see it again. You hold back a giggle, reaching up to grasp his face in your hands and silencing him with a kiss.

You can physically feel his body relax, his attention now being placed on kissing you well. Your hands travel to his back, heart fluttering at the feeling of his muscles from under his hoodie.

“I’m just joking,” you whisper against his lips, slightly out of breath.

He lets out a soft exhale, his forehead coming down to rest on your shoulder.

“We should probably get up before someone complains about us being in this slightly r-rated position,” you giggle, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You’re right. I should probably carry you off the ice being that you’re quite the skater,” he teased you, earning a scoff and a playful shove.

“Don’t be jealous. I’m coming for your job, so you better watch out,” you tease back, yelping as Mat pulls you over his shoulder as he starts to skate off the ice.

“That’s fine. I actually like being in front of the camera, maybe we can switch,” he muses, making you laugh loudly.

“You wish,” you say through a gasp as he slaps your ass.

Once completely off the ice, he finally sets you back on your feet for you to readjust your clothes and pull off the skates.

“I thought we’d be here a lot longer,” you say, realizing you’d only been at the rink for half an hour.

“We’re just getting some hot chocolate, then I’m taking you back on the ice until you can skate at least 1 minute without me holding you,” he informs you, which makes you pout.

“Why must you insist on torturing me?”

He just gives you a devilish smirk, leading you to get your hot chocolate.

You take a pause from walking right where the huge Christmas tree looms over the both of you, and it does wonders with lighting up you and Mat. You can see the smile on his face clear as day. He holds your skates while you both sip on hot chocolate, trying to keep warm.

He steps closer to you, throwing an arm around your neck to pull you in. His nose nudges yours, his lips getting closer to yours as he lets them brush against each other. You lean up, connecting your mouths together. Your body seemingly warms up despite the freezing temperature.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your kiss.

“For what?” You pull back, cupping his cheek with one of your hands. You softly caress his bottom lip as it’s slightly swollen from the kiss.

“For letting me teach you to ice skate even though you’re scared of it. I just wanted you to be able to skate around with me during family skate,” he says softly and your heart melts in your chest.

“If you don’t kiss me now, I’ll freeze to death,” you blurt out, cheeks red because you’re still feeling giddy about what he just said.

He lets out a small laugh, pulling your mouth back on his until you have to pull away for air.

You never thought you’d want to learn to ice skate so badly until now.

a/n: I don’t really like how this came out, but I didn’t feel like continuously changing everything. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy it!!!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Can I request some bimbo!reader x Daryl? I love the way you write that dynamic sm!! Maybe protective Daryl when they run into a bad group or something of the sorts, love ur writing Xx💖💖

fem bimbo!plus size reader, wc: 538.

a/n: AHHHH I'M FINALLY CLEANING OUT MY DRAFTS!! there are some pretty good requests in here, i just bit off more than i could chew 🫤 BUT now i'm ready and here to rock and roll! B]

cw! angst, hints at murder and men with not so pure intentions ;(

Daryl loved you; he looked at you like you were the only woman in the world, almost as if you had hung the damn moon in the sky.

 But unfortunately, you were a very big liability, as well as a distraction to a certain bowman.

Case in point, Daryl shouldn’t have brought you with him. You were too soft and pretty to be out in a world that he knew was dangerous and unforgiving. He had worked his ass off to protect you just to put you back in the line of fire because he couldn’t say no to you.

You were hurt and it was all his fault.

You were shaking like a leaf in his hold, and your clothes were covered in blood and dirt – luckily the blood wasn’t yours. 

“‘S okay, yer alrigh’.” Daryl calmed your quiet sobs, gently swiping at the dried blood that had leaked from the cut of your brow.

There was a bruise forming on the corner of your mouth and Daryl felt sick to his stomach.

“I - I was so scared, bear…” You sniffled, your fingers gripping at his biceps in order to ground yourself. 

You were sitting in the bathroom of your shared Alexandrian home, sat atop the counter with your boyfriend perched between your legs. Since it was getting dark Daryl had lit your favorite candle in hopes that the scent of it would soothe you and offer him some much needed light.

“I know, sunshine, I know.” 

“I thought I was gonna die, D.”

The blood in Daryl’s veins simmered, and he felt the same helpless anger he had the moment that you were held from him, though the men didn’t last long. Daryl usually felt bad when he killed the living, but these men deserved the arrow that had penetrated their skulls.

“But ya didn’t.” What else was he supposed to say? He knew how much it upset you whenever he got to blaming himself for things that were completely out of his control.

“I shouldn’t have let ya come with me. I fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let you anyway.”

Your wet eyes grew even softer than they already were and your lip-wobbled pitifully.

“‘M sorry.” He put the wet rag down to hold your face, his large and calloused thumb softly caressed your cheeks. “Nah, don’ apologize. ‘M jus’ sorry about yer shirt. I know it’s your favorite.”

You had been so excited to finally go outside of the walls that you rushed to put on your nicest outfit – which unfortunately backfired.

“Oh, yeah,” You took a moment to look down, your fingers tugging the hem out. “I’m just glad you were there with me. I know I’m gonna be okay when you’re around.” There was something about the way you spoke that could calm Daryl down in an instant.

All the fight that he had in his body practically melted off and he found himself slumping forward, your arms coming around his broad shoulders to hold him closer to you. You were so soft and warm, and you smelt so good – like vanilla – despite your past circumstances.

“‘M always with ya; ya know that, right?”

“Mhm,” You said with a nod. “I know.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[luveline]

Hiii, if you’re interested, could I request Eddie but as an ice hockey player?? Your writing is out of this world and I would just love to read about his flushed cheeks after practice or something like that. I hope you’re doing great and I love your stuff❤️❤️❤️

thank you so much, for your request and for being so lovely, it means the world to me! ♡ fem!reader, 1.2k

He comes flying across the ice like he's weightless. A dropping sensation hits your stomach while your heart leaps into your throat, but Eddie saves himself at the last minute with a quick, hard turn, his left foot further out. Ice curls in his wake, sheared by the sharp blade of his skate. 

"How was that?" he calls up to you where you're sitting in the second row of the stands.  

"You can really see a difference," you say, crossing one leg over the other and hiding your frigid fingers between your thighs. "The two hundred metre sprints must be working, Eds. You're like a fricking whippet, it's scary." 

"They better be working," he says. "God, I fucking hate sprints." 

Eddie hates every aspect of his conditioning workouts. He loves hockey, and if he wants to be able to keep up with the rest of his team, let alone the opposition, he needs to stay fit in ways that are specific to the sport, so the sprints are a necessary evil.

He doesn't care for much of it. The deadlifting is a good look on him, though. Watching his muscles physically get bigger in size has been an Experience, capital 'E'. His weight gain in general, actually. 

"Do you feel tired?" you ask. 

Eddie groans, putting his arm up and behind his head, forcing his elbow down with the opposite hand. He doesn't realise how salalcious he appears, worse when he scrunches his eyes closed and turns his face to one side. "I always feel tired. This is good, though. Maybe Steve'll stop busting my ass at practice for getting winded before the third period."

You're glad it's so cold in the rink. His grumpy expression has you flushing all over. 

"Steve spends the majority of his time on the ice hunched over," you say. "Of course he doesn't get winded."

You wouldn't feel comfortable making a snide joke about Eddie's friends usually, but Steve knows you. He calls you Eddie's wife, though you aren't married, always trying to feed you hard pretzels while mouthing off about Eddie's shit plays. Hence your nonchalant disparagement. 

Eddie grins at you, dropping his arms back down to his sides. "Where're your skates, sweetheart? Come and take a lap with me." 

You brought your skates at his request. You'd climb the appalachian trail on your hands and knees if he asked you to, and not just because he's handsome and getting more so everyday, but because he's gorgeous on the inside. Kind of like finding a pretty rock and cracking it open to find gemstone, you'd been drawn to Eddie and his rough exterior, but you've grown to love him for what's inside. His sweetness, his charm. The way he's looking at you now —eyes wide, hopeful. You could believe that the only thing he wants in the whole world is to skate with you. 

"I'll slip again," you fret, having already mentally given in. 

Eddie knows you have, too. "I am not gonna let you fall over," he promises. "Put your gloves back on, yeah? It's cold." 

You put on your skates and gloves and wobble to the gap in the rink walls to step out. Eddie's waiting, taking your elbow into his hand to help you out. He's been playing ice hockey longer than you've known him, and while you've been by his side for his rise to tier 3, you've become less familiar with the ice rather than more. You're frankly intimidated by what he can do. He's fast. He's a great sportsman (with a short fuse, undoubtedly, but he's never unkind to the people around him) (besides that one on-ice official). Eddie's amazing, but he can't give you confidence on the ice. Only practice can do that. 

You're not super willing to practise. "Please don't let me fall on my ass, Eddie." 

"There's nobody here to see it. And if you fall, I'll help you up, I swear. But you're not going to fall over." 

While not specifically true, recreational skaters making lazy laps and a young figure skater working on waltz jumps in the defending zone, his surety makes you feel better.

Being on skates is a strange feeling. Eddie skates with the same ease as he walks. You freeze up, locking your hips. He moves his hand from your elbow to your hand. You can feel his fingers like blocks of ice through your gloves.

"Do you want to try just walking, or would you feel better skating in a circle?" he asks. 

"Uh–" Your footing slips. You're panicking. "Um, whatever you want." 

His cheeks glow with blush, his nose tip like a budding rose. He doesn't feel the cold anymore, nor fear of falling, setting you both on a speed akin to a light jog. You breathe out with a nervous squeak, fingers locked around his hand. 

"You got it," he says, in his way, too cool for you. His voice is awfully pretty sometimes, a little rough, all fond. He dotes via praise, his thumb petting pointless circles into the back of your hand. "You're always better than you think." 

"I don't know how you can find this fun," you say nervously. 

He tips his chin up, his disorderly bun pressed to the back of his neck. "It's not all fun. Sometimes I don't wanna do it as much as I did when I started, but sometimes I wanna do it more than ever. Like, getting bumped up? Well, you know how I felt." 

He'd hugged you so hard the air got knocked out of you. The celebrations were unrestrained. 

"I love hockey almost as much as I love you," he says, sending an appreciative smile your way. 

Your heart skips. "You love me more than hockey?"

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I do." He slows his skating, slows you with him, and kisses your cheek. His lips are as cold as his fingers. "But I want you to love hockey, so first you need to skate." 

"Don't yank me." 

"I'm yanking you, sweetheart. It's just like roller-blading." 

"I can't rollerblade." 

"No?" he asks, picking up his foot and putting it down, his thighs moving outward with each stroke. You scramble to keep up with him. 

"Eddie!" you shout, terrified as you swing around a corner. Despite the fear, you know he won't let you get hurt. Well, super hurt. 

"You're fine! Come on, let's see if we can meet my lap time." He smiles. Red cheeks, pink lips, and the world's warmest brown eyes. "You should start doing sprints with me. And lifting! That would be hot." 

You'd snort if you weren't too busy trying to stay in an upright position. You'll be surprised if Eddie has any bones left in his hand tonight when you're done. 

He doesn't once complain about your vice-like grip. 

[reidslovely]

Can I Have a Moment (Before I Go)

Pairing: (Implied Mob) Peter Parker x Fem! Reader

Content Warnings: None.

Authors Note: I think I am only good for angst anymore, that is all I am giving recently. Sorry. Also not proof written at all because I wrote this in one go.

Synopsis: In a gathering of hundreds of individuals, two ex-lovers find each other.

“He is just so..magnetic. The way he talks, he has you holding on to every word.” Mary-Jane hums as she sips on her gin and tonic, blissfully unaware of the butterflies building up in her friend's stomach. “I still won’t ever understand what happened between you two.” 

Calmly, she pushed her hair off her cheek before clearing her throat. Looking at Mary-Jane the other girl shook her head before finishing her drink all in one go. 

“We were kids. Too young to understand everything that was going on.

 Standing on her wobbling legs she excused herself, trying to exit to the ladies room quickly and quietly before Peter could B-line her way. The intense eye contact during his speech was enough, and now she had his eyes locked to her figure as he spoke with a dark haired man about god knows what. She had to gather herself before they could have any interaction. 

A shaky breath left her as she found the line for the ladies room, her hands resting on her hips as she screwed her eyes shut counting backwards from 10. She opened her eyes back up and suddenly the world was not swallowing her whole, and the pink satin of her dress no longer strangled her to death. One of the models standing in front of her turned back to look at her, a clear sense of worry in her eyes as she forced a smile back. She was thankful that the other girl left it at that and turned back to whoever she was talking to in line. 

Just when everything settles, her ears prick up at the sound of her name from a familiar voice. 

“(Y/N)!” 

In a moment of reflex she turned over her shoulder to see Peter striding over to her, more handsome than he had been all those years ago. She took him in, he was a man now. Full beard, clad in a baby blue suit and nice haircut. A gold band sitting on his left ring finger and suddenly butterflies were slowly turning into a cardiac arrest. She took his outstretched hand, slotting perfectly into his as he brought her into a hug, a friendly kiss on the cheek. The same old routine of lovers turned to strangers. 

“Peter. Oh gosh, how have you been? I haven't seen you in so long.” 

His eyes twinkled in the dimly lit venue. His hand still turned hers over in his palm as he watched her. For a moment he looked like he did the night they met. 

“I know, I- I’ve been meaning to reach out but I’ve been so busy with work and I just got married and..life.” He laughs, it is airy and almost like he doesn't have a care in the world. He always did that, even when the world was falling down around them Peter would laugh and smile and everything would feel settled for a minute. She opened her mouth to talk but nothing came out, she looked over shoulder to the line getting shorter. 

“Listen, uh if you have a moment I’d love to talk and catch up.” 

He offered, she was still painfully aware of how tightly he was holding her hand. Though his tone was cool and calm, his body language was begging. His chest rose and fell almost in a rapid pattern, and there was a slight shake to his hand. Looking around she cleared her throat, nodding as she made eye contact with the crowd of people to avoid his eyes. 

“Yeah, I can meet you on the rooftop in a couple of minutes. I just-” She pointed over her shoulder awkwardly to the bathroom. “Want to freshen up. Long night.” 

“Of course..yeah. Yeah I’ll meet you there.” He hugged her again, leaving without a kiss to the cheek. She watched him tuck his hands in his pockets walking towards the staircase to the rooftop. A part of her was glad to fight all the voices telling her to turn back around and run, if she had she’d miss the smile he gave her across the room. 

The rooftop was a bit more chilly than she had predicted it would be. Her eyes landed on Peter, a cigarette in his hand as he looked over the city. She stood still for a moment, taking in the man he’d become, unsure of how to approach him. 

“Want a hit?” 

He laughs as he turns around, her eyes having drilled through his back long enough. She shook her head as she approached with soft steps, heels in hand. The wind had picked up, prickling at her skin sending a chill down her spine. Or maybe it was due to the lack of space between them. She wished she had a camera, to take a picture of how he looked. Both obviously older, Peter had wrinkles and smile lines on his face which were well complimented by the gray hairs decorating his dark beard. She herself had found her first gray hair earlier today, should have been a sign for how the day was going to go. 

“What are you looking at?” He laughed while putting out the cigarette on the stone. (Y/N) smiled, shaking her head, laughing at herself. 

“You got old.” 

Peter threw his head back laughing, covering his mouth with his hand before settling down. “Yeah, well you’re one to talk.” 

“No, no it’s just strange. That’s all..last time I saw you we were fighting over marriage and kids. You taking over the business, me going into modeling. And now, well.” 

“It’s funny because we were just kids ourselves.” He sighs. “God I was nineteen on my hands and knees begging you to marry me. It was all I wanted.” 

Silence crept in as she remembered the last thread of stress that broke them apart, she remembers how devastated and heartbroken they both were. She had nothing to say except: “It wasn’t going to be a no for forever. I had just turned nineteen Peter, I had my first real modeling job. Everything was getting too scary. I just..”

“Needed time. I was impatient, let's be honest I was never good at waiting.” 

It was her turn to laugh, her hand raising to cover her face. “You really weren’t but look..” She pointed at the band on his finger. “Gwen’s a lucky woman, I’m glad you two reconnected. If it wasn’t me I’m glad it was her.” 

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but he didn’t seem to care. He smiled his signature Peter Parker smile and she couldn’t help but give one back.

 “I did really love you, and I hope you know I carry it with me every day. I carry you with me.” Peter says quietly, looking down at the city. She pressed her lips together, her hand reaching out and rubbing his back. 

“Same here. I still look for you in everybody I date.” She admits with a soft breath. “I loved you, and a part of me always will. Pleas-” She was cut off by the door opening, the photographer from the party smiled at them. 

“Some red head told me I could find you up here, we need a picture of our two biggest donors.” He raised his camera, almost as a prompt. Peter smiled and nodded, whispering a quick of course. “As long as I can get a copy sent to me.” He laughed. 

His arm wrapped around her in a  smile. (Y/N) smiled back, even though she knew there was a storm of emotions brewing in her eyes, she hoped the smile on her face was genuine. She was thankful that he came when he did, because the next words out of her mouth could have torn them both up. She’d just have to keep that to herself. 

taglist: @sincericida @blooming-violets @tarzinnia @moonyslove78 @liz-allyn @someblessedmonster @helloheyhihowdyheya @a-lumos-in-the-nox @hollandweather @toomanyfictionalboyfriends

[daenysx]

hiii it's the crying anon !!! (lol) ibe been so sad today bc i literally failed my ap exam like i did terrible and i e just been so sad and in my head all day :/// i literally just need a hug like im so sad and i need a james potter rn :( would you kind writing something for this ??? if not, it's totally okay my lovely , have a great day !!!

i'm so sorry, baby, i hope this helps making you feel better a bit!! you can always reach out when you're sad (if you wanna talk to someone!!) i'll be here. love u <33333

james potter x fem!reader

you try to stay calm as you knock on james's door.

he shares the apartment with sirius and remus but you know they are not here right now. it's a relief, no matter how close friends you are with them, you wouldn't want them to see you cry.

when james opens the door, you first spot his glasses. his hair looks messy, wild waves finding their own shape on his head, his skin warm. he looks like he's just woken up, you feel sorry for interrupting his sleep.

"i'm sorry, jamie." you begin saying. "were you sleeping?"

james quickly holds your hand to welcome you inside. "just fell asleep on the couch, angel. i'm glad you wake me, it always messes with my night sleep."

you give him a broken smile. james closes the door, he helps you take off your jacket. you put your bag on the floor, slipping out of your shoes, never looking at james's direction as you make your way to his bedroom. he follows you.

the room smells like him everywhere, and the safety you feel around james overwhelms you so hard, it hits you. you start crying without any control, without trying to stop yourself. james looks surprised but he reacts quickly as always, he holds your arms gently, then his kind fingers are on your chin to see your face.

"sweetheart." he says. "what's- what's wrong?"

"my exam." you manage to say and he understands. james doesn't like asking unnecessary questions about a situation when you cry your eyes out, especially. you can tell everything later, when you calm down. he knows the exam is important, he knows how much you studied, and how stressed you were days before.

"i'm sorry." he says, reaching for you. "oh, my baby." he coos, you feel so vulnerable in his arms as he holds you, your face tucked in his neck with his hands rubbing on the tense muscles of your back. you cry against him, but james is strong. he'll hold you as long as you need him.

he strokes your hair, drying up your fresh tears as much as he can. you lean on him, your legs feel numb, and your head hurts. you tried to stay strong all day long, keeping a neutral face even though you were disappointed, but now that it's safe, you let out every emotion that begs to be free.

james whispers gentle words against your ear. he doesn't know if they help but he never liked silence. you lift your head to see him, your wet cheeks and wobbly lip crash his heart. you never deserve to cry. he rubs two desperate thumbs on your cheeks to get your pretty face back from tears.

"my head hurts, jamie." you say. "can i have some water?"

"of course." james says. "sit on the bed, angel, i'll be right back."

he takes a bottle of cold water from the fridge. you don't like eating when you're upset, james knows this, so he won't ask if you're hungry. he returns to his room, gets on his knees to reach your spot on bed.

you take a few sips from the bottle. it helps cooling down your throat. you look at james's worried face. he tries to hide it but his forehead has wrinkles, they always appear when he gets nervous.

"i'm okay." you say. "i'm sorry, that was- a lot. i did really bad, i just-"

"baby." he hushes you with a kiss on your hand. you look like you're explaining for his sake and not because you want to speak. "you have nothing to be sorry for. let's talk about this later, okay? you need to get some sleep."

you nod gratefully. james gives you one of his rugby team t-shirts. you change into it quickly, your legs stay bare. he helps you get under the covers, joins you exactly two minutes later after taking off his clothes and texting remus to let him know you'll be sleeping in his room.

he is so warm, you wrap your legs around his immediately. your head stays on his chest as he holds your waist and plays with your fingers with his other hand. you take quiet breaths to relax, your eyes hurt from all those crying.

"it's all gonna be okay." he silently promises. "can you try not to think of it for a few hours, lovely girl? i know it's hard but- you need to sleep on it. you need to get some rest."

"okay." you say. you have no energy left. james turns to his side to press you better against him. you think you'll be better once your breathing turns normal. he strokes your hair gently and squeezes your body just the way you like. you wrap a tired arm around his waist. closing your eyes, you try to forget about everything.

james kisses your forehead. he thinks a good cup of coffee and your favorite breakfast can make the morning a bit better for you. he'll listen if you wanna talk, answer your questions if you have any. he thinks about how upset you've been all day long and a protective wave washes over him again. his arms around you has never been this tight.