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thevillainswhore · 1 year ago

Text

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular.

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door.

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time, when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck.

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again.

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level. “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.”

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?”

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind.

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.”

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes.

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.”

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation.

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic.

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?”

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–”

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning.

“What the shit–“

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?”

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!”

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.”

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all.

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?”

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids.

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed.

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.”

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone.

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?”

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over.

Had he been listening that whole time?

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky may have made was a burden you did not want to bear, and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.”

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?��

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump.

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose. “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips.

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door.

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?”

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.”

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf.

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?”

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom.

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you.

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence.

Though, it is short lived.

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand.

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works.

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off.

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before…

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious.

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you.

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats.

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?”

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet.

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company.

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence.

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone.

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content.

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets.

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself.

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?”

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV.

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.”

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.”

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.”

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.”

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it.

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!”

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?”

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night.

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus.

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing.

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.”

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face.

Okay, you think privately, so what?

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt.

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard.

Bucky… is a virgin?

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match.

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression.

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind.

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts.

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully.

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him.

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession.

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands, and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty.

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer.

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past. And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket.

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs.

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees.

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical.

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.”

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting.

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through.

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek.

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance.

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap.

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth.

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves.

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face.

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes.

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session.

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension.

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time.

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close.

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard.

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before.

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another.

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you.

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–”

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries.

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss.

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move.

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous.

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.”

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin.

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet.

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn.

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it.

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release.

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle.

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck.

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently.

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him.

You can’t have that, though.

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go.

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in.

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?”

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.”

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.”

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him.

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure.

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop.

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!”

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed.

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat.

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness.

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material.

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries.

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces.

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands.

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair.

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.”

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only–

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala.

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?”

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes.

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away.

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky.

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall. “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive.

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.”

That meant only one person was responsible.

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night.

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake.

Love ya squirt,

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again.

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain.

Part Two, Part Three

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 3 months ago

Text

dinner. l Joel Miller

Summary: he took you to a nice place

Warnings: just fluff, Joel is a little insecure, one or two bad words

A/N: nothing special. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

"Why are we here?" you asked as you both stood in front of a place that was something like a local family restaurant in Jackson.

"You'll see. I hope you like it." Joel replied and opened the door for you.

You entered a brightly lit room filled with pleasant music, and your nostrils were immediately filled with a pleasant smell. The tables were covered with neat tablecloths, and the sounds of work came from the kitchen.

You looked around the place uncertainly when an older woman approached Joel, smiling politely.

"Everything is ready, come in." she said, pointing to a small table by the window.

You must have looked scared, because Joel gently touched your arm and led you to the indicated place. He pulled out a chair for you and you sat down, hiding your hands under the table.

You didn't understand much of what Mrs. Russo was saying, but she was so polite and so happy about your arrival that you just nodded your head, agreeing to everything she suggested. After a short while, she disappeared behind the kitchen door, and you looked at Joel.

"You said I shouldn't plan anything for the evening, but... What the hell are you planning?" you asked quietly.

"I thought you might like it here. Was I wrong?" you saw the concern in his eyes and how nervously he squeezed his hands.

"It's lovely." you replied, "But..."

"I told you once that I wanted to take you to a nice restaurant." Joel reminded you, and you nodded. "Maybe it's not perfect, and maybe I should wear something better..."

"It's perfect." you quickly cut him off, seeing Mrs. Russo approaching you with two steaming plates. "Thank you." you added almost silently.

His eyes brightened. He could just sit there and look at your delighted face as you ate your pasta with bolognese sauce, or when Mr. Russo brought the wine he kept in the basement for special occasions. This whole evening was even more than he had dreamed of.

You both could forget about your usual, everyday worries and pretend that the world had stopped for you for a few moments. It was perfect to just sit there, talk or be silent, enjoy the moment.

As you started to leave, Mr. Russo asked Joel to step aside for a moment, and you had the opportunity to exchange a few pleasantries with his wife.

"Joel is truly a wonderful man." The woman stated, looking towards the talking men. "I don't know how we would have managed without him."

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Oh, he didn't tell you anything, sweetie?" The woman looked at you with a charming smile. "For the past few weeks, he's been helping us renovate the kitchen. It was too much work for my husband! We had to fix some cabinets, the oven, and we had a problem with the pipes too. A lot, a lot of work! And Mr. Miller never once complained, although some things really bothered him."

You didn't know. Joel left the house every day, but you never asked what he really did.

"We wanted to repay him somehow, and he only asked if he could invite someone here for dinner. How could we refuse!" the woman added, tenderly squeezing your arm.

A smile automatically appeared on your lips, but a thousand questions were buzzing in your head. Soon you said goodbye and you and Joel went out into the darkened street.

"Did you like it?" he asked as you took a dozen or so steps, slowly heading towards the house.

"Yes, it was wonderful." you answered, but then you fell silent again.

You felt that Joel was watching you with concern, but at that moment a real hurricane of thoughts was rolling through your head. A moment passed before he spoke again.

"Are you okay? You seem a little worried. Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, God! No!" you quickly denied, "It's just..."

You stopped and looked at Joel. He seemed worried and uncertain. Just a moment ago everything was perfect, and now he had the impression that something changed, but he didn't know what it could be.

Maybe he had given himself too much hope? Maybe he was wrong in thinking that you liked him, that you would want to spend time with him like this? However, you were already so ingrained in his life that he couldn't imagine a single day without you in it.

He didn't know what these feelings were, they scared him a little, but he knew perfectly well that he would do anything for every smile from you.

"Joel..." your voice sent a cold shiver down his spine "Why didn't you tell me that you worked for them?"

He shrugged, "Does that change anything?"

You weren't sure about that "Mrs. Russo told me that you only asked them for the possibility of inviting me there for dinner." The man lowered his head, clearly avoiding your gaze "You could have asked for anything. Why that?"

There was a short silence, and you were sure you stopped breathing for a moment. Joel shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

"I told you that I wanted to take you to a place like that." he finally said.

"Yeah, but I didn't think..."

"That I was telling the truth?" he smiled weakly. "I'd like to take you to a lot of places, darling, I really do. And I don't expect anything in return, because I'm probably already imagining too much, but... I like seeing you smile, and I like when you're close to me. That's all."

You saw how embarrassed he was after those words and you knew that it took a lot of courage to tell you such things. Something powerful filled your chest, and you unconsciously smiled.

"Joel..." you sighed. "No one has ever done anything so wonderful and selfless for me. You just... Fuck!" your voice broke, Joel made a move as if he wanted to approach you, but you raised your hand stopping him. You took a few quick breaths and looked back at him. "Thank you, Joel. Thank you for everything."

"I wish I could do more."

"You're enough."

You were only two steps away, but a moment later your arms were wrapped around his neck as you snuggled into him with all your might. A strong arm wrapped around your waist, and another hand stroked your back.

The world stopped for a moment once more.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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sugurugetofavoritemonkey · 5 days ago

Note

hiii, sweet! I'm that one anon who made that one request you wrote of 'love is the fountain of life'

how was your day? I hope I make your whole week once again with this new idea I've got recently 🥰 It's not that much elaborated like the first request I did, but I really hope you'll like it! the prompt is: Ethan walking into his dorm and being met by reader dressed in one of those bunny suits (I'm a mess writing this because I'm always so embarrassed to make nsfw asks 😓)

anyways, hope you have a perfect week! <33

Down the bunny hole

Summary : Ethan had a rough week but luckily his girlfriend dressed in a bunny suit is here to brighten up his day !

Pairing : Ethan Landry x F!Reader.

Word Count : 1.400 words.

Warnings : Smut, p in v, bunny suit obviously, butt plug, fingering, creampie, overstimulation ?, needy Ethan, hints at Ethan being Ghostface at the end. (Please tell me if I forgot anything).

A/N : Hiiiii lovely ! I definitely remember you, I loved your last request and I clearly love this one as much, thank you so much for sending it to me ! 🥰 My day was good, I hope yours was as well and you definitely made my week with this one 😘 I’m also very sorry for taking so long to reply to your request, those last two months were a bit rough for me at work but your request was always on my mind (also Ethan <3) seeing that I had started it right when you sent it, so I dearly hope that I did it justice and don’t hesitate to send me more requests for Ethan and to tell me how I did please ! 🩷 Again, thank you so much for your patience sweet and have a perfect week as well ! <3

You were currently waiting for your boyfriend Ethan Landry in his dorm, sitting on his bed like his pretty little gift that waited to be unwrapped. You were wearing a lovely bunny suit that you bought earlier this week to please Ethan. The bunny suit consisted of a black crotchless body to give Ethan easier access ; bunny ears, one of them being slightly bent to give you a cuter look ; white shirt cuffs ; a white suit collar with a black ribbon ; a soft bunny white tail and an elegant garter belt with black lace stockings.

Ethan was almost back to his dorm at the moment, sighing heavily after finishing a long day at school, exhausted and with just one idea in mind : coming back home where he knows you await him like every other day, your classes finishing just a bit before his. Ethan can already picture the way he’s going to hold you in his arms for the rest of the evening and night, showering you in kisses.

When Ethan finally opens the door to his dorm, he doesn’t have the mind to finish his sentence as he stops in his tracks, closing the door and letting his hand rest on the knob with his mouth slightly open.

« I’m here bab- », Ethan’s voice turn quiet as his cheekbones and nose grow red with pleasant surprise, excitement and shyness.

Ethan stays silent for a few seconds, just looking at you with doe eyes as he doesn’t really know where to look first : Your teasing smile ? The way the black body was hugging your breasts just the right way ? Or the way your crossed legs looked so inviting ?

After a moment, you uncross your legs to walk towards your sweet puppy eyes boyfriend, putting your hands on his face to gently caress it as you smile and cock your head to the side slightly. It doesn’t take long for Ethan’s agitating hands to find their way on your hips, caressing your curves over the bunny suit.

« When did you get this ? », Ethan ponders while biting his lower lip.

« Earlier this week, you had rough exams love, I wanted to do something nice for you. Do you like it ? », you ask him in return with a big smile.

« You’re gorgeous. », he simply answers with vigor, his head nodding rapidly as Ethan’s breath quickens just a bit.

Before your smile can widen at his praise, Ethan closes the gap between you both and hungrily kisses your lips. He mentally tries his best to be soft but honestly it’s the best he can do seeing the context you put him in. His tongue soon starts to swipe over your lower lip to ask for entrance as he starts making out with you, making Ethan moan and whimper between kisses. You can feel Ethan getting hard against your tummy as you deepen the kiss as well, smearing some of your lipstick on his own mouth along the way. Ethan’s right hand has a mind of its own as it comes down to rub your pussy through the material of your costume… Well that’s at least what he has intended to do. But his eyes go wide in surprise, a good yet dirty one he wasn’t expecting, his fingers directly coming into contact with your wet pussy as Ethan realizes that your body is crotchless.

« So that you can fuck me more easily. », you whisper in his ear with a smile as you clutch on his strong arm to stand on your tiptoes.

« You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart. », Ethan gulps at your innocent smile mixed with your lewd words, as he blush and tightens his hold on your hips.

As you link your mouth with his once again, you gently guide Ethan backwards towards his bed, pushing him softly on his back so that you can straddle his lap. Ethan makes himself comfy on his pillows while you unloop his belt and unzip his jeans, taking his cock out as you don't wait any longer before you guide his already leaking cock into you to ride him. Ethan chokes on a moan at the feeling of your tight hot walls that envelops him in the most perfect way imaginable, you were made for him and Ethan was sure of this fact for god knows how long. Your sweet boyfriend is breathless and a moaning mess against your lips as you kiss him for all he’s worth. His hands wander to grab at your boobs, lowering the front part of your body to make your tits pop out of your pretty bunny suit. Ethan buries his face into your cleavage as he alternatively sucks on your nipple and massage the other one, switching to pinching one of your nipples between his index and thumb while he licks at the other, making you sweetly whine for him - just for him - Ethan’s favorite song.

Even though you would try to take the lead at first when riding him, Ethan would quickly take charge by grabbing your waist in his big hands and force you on his cock at a rapid pace. Or even blocking your body from getting away from his thrusts as his hips fuck back into you while he pants against your opened mouth. Ethan is getting totally lost in you as it seems that your boyfriend would never get enough of you, especially in this damn sexy bunny suit.

Ethan would also grab onto your fluffy bunny tail while he ravishes you, as he fidgets with the round tail as his hips stutter when he’s already so close to cumming inside of you. Only to find out at this exact moment that your bunny tail isn’t exactly part of the costume but that you’re actually wearing a butt plug, making Ethan’s breath catch in his throat at the realization. Deepening the kiss as he moans louder into your mouth, Ethan takes advantage of that fact as he toys with the butt plug even more now, stimulating you in the most pleasurable way. Your hips now fail to meet his thrusts as your legs shakes under you, the only thing keeping you upright just enough being Ethan’s hands on your hips. You feel your climax soon approaching with the way Ethan kisses you, fucks the bunny plug into your butt and thrusts his hard cock into your little trembling pussy. Ethan’s murmuring voice against your jaw is the last thing you needed to reach your orgasm alongside your boyfriend that couldn’t hold it anymore.

« My sweet little bunny. », four simple words and it’s still enough from Ethan to make you whimper in the crook of his neck while he cums deep inside you, his cum oozing out of you and soiling the lower parts of your cute costume as it adds to the mess you both had already made on his lap.

You both stay silent for a few minutes to catch your breaths as your head rests against his shoulder and his against your breasts, slowly removing his softening member out of you as his cum starts dripping down your thighs over your pretty stockings. But Ethan isn’t quite happy about that, as his fingers slide into your warm cunt to fuck his cum back into you, making loud squelching sounds echoes in the room. Ethan’s eyes are focused in a daze on your poor messy cunt, his chest heaving as you whimper in the crook of his neck.

After he’s done with you, letting your body rest comfortably against his warm one, your bunny ears would be slightly off balance as they dangle to one side when you raise your head to look up at him. Ethan chuckles at that as his hands come to put your ears back in the right position, gently combing through your hair in the process.

Ethan would then look at you like you hold all the answers to his questions, you’re perfect in his eyes and he isn’t even sure to fully deserve you.

« Maybe I should have rough weeks all the time if I can have my angel dressed in a pretty bunny every time I come home. », Ethan grins at you pleased.

Maybe he’ll be the one to dress up for you next time, Ethan thinks, how will you feel about his Ghostface costume, he ponders with a smirk.

💗 Ethan Landry Masterlist 💗

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love-quinn · 6 months ago

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— COLLECTORS' GUIDE

summary — you love books, and spencer can't figure out why you don't have a single one inside your apartment. his only solution is, of course, to buy you some.

warnings — swearing, reader has a toxic ex

pairing — spencer agnew x fem!mythical reader

pronouns — none (you/yours)

featuring — spencer agnew, nicole enayati, vianai austin (mentioned), kiana parker (mentioned)

word count — 1.8k

note — as someone who LOVES mythical kitchen i've been toying around with the idea of spencer and someone from that show or even just mythical in general, also she was speaking to me she told me she's a bookworm i don't make the rules sorry. thank you so much for all the love on my last two spencer fics <333 hope you enjoy

LA’s a big city; it’s loud, it’s dirty, and it’s busy. Working in the industry you do, you don’t have a whole lot of calmness in your life, which is why you make it your personal mission to make your apartment as soft and cozy as possible.

You pile your couch with throw blankets and pillows, you have lamps where you can control the brightness, you hang art on the walls and you love it there. You layer your rugs and you keep candles on every shelf. Your apartment is one hundred percent yours, and that’s the reason Spencer likes spending time there as much as he does.

You and Spencer are a fairly new couple, you’ve only been together a few weeks, and he still can’t quite believe the two of you are together. You work in the Mythical side of the office as a producer and sometimes on-camera for Mythical Kitchen so the two of you see each other fairly often but not every single day.

He likes to think he knows you pretty well – he is your boyfriend. But one of his favorite parts about being in this relationship with you is getting to learn more about you. Neither of you are shooting anything today so he decides to drop by your desk during his lunch break. You’re on yours too, you and Nicole are chatting across your desks, you have half a wrap in one hand and a folded over paperback novel in the other and Spencer brightens at seeing you.

“Hi, babe,” he drops a kiss on your hairline, leaning over and peering at what you’re doing. “I was gonna see if you wanted to go for lunch with me but you seem to have it covered.”

You tilt your head back to look him in the eye, face lighting up. “Hi! I didn’t know you were coming over here.”

He shrugs, leaning on the back of your chair. Nicole excuses herself to go meet Vi for lunch like they planned and offers Spencer her chair while she’s gone so he doesn’t have to hover. Spencer watches you smile up at her as she leaves and can’t stop the frown from making its way onto his face.

“You’re not going with them?” From what he knew, the three of you were really good friends, at the very least close coworkers. Seeing Nicole talk about her plans with your mutual friend right in front of you without inviting you felt… not wrong, but definitely weird.

You just shake your head. “No, Thursdays I usually eat by myself, they go out somewhere.” You catch the look on Spencer’s face and amend yourself quickly. “They do invite me, I just prefer to eat my lunch at my desk, I can get a chapter or two in before they get back.”

Spencer looks down at the paperback in your hand again. “What’re you reading?”

You hold it up for him. It’s an older book, with frayed edges and a peeling vinyl cover, a grainy lighthouse on the front. He takes it when you offer it and flicks through it, careful not to disturb the bookmark. “I was gonna take it back to the library on Saturday and get a new one, but I can come over after that?”

Spencer shakes his head, only now just seeing the Los Angeles Public Library sticker on the back cover. “Can I come with you? Unless that’s like, something you wanna do by yourself or whatever? I didn’t know you went to the library.”

You take the book back and put it on your desk, out of the way. You and Spencer have wordlessly begun to split the wrap that you’d packed for lunch, something you’d made at home that made his mouth water. “Yeah, of course you can come. I go most weeks, I try to read a book every week but sometimes, y’know,” you gesture around the office.

That’s how Spencer finds himself on the steps of the LAPL for what he believes to be the first time. He’d been to libraries before, obviously, but not since leaving Florida, and not for a long time. He knows you like to read, there’s often a paperback in your hand or your purse or your car, it’s your quiet time activity. He just assumed you bought your own books, but getting to walk hand in hand with you through the stacks as you browse, he definitely sees the appeal.

You find your new book of the week and hold it up to him gleefully, and you don’t even have to pull him along to the desk for him to follow you dutifully. Spencer would let you stay in there for hours, gazing lovingly over at you as you talk familiarly with the librarian.

Eventually, you cut yourself off and excuse yourself to return to your boyfriend, knowing that his ideal weekend plans probably didn’t include letting you drag him around the library. You really like Spencer, you don’t want to hijack all of your time together.

Spencer hasn’t even considered that. In fact, he is actively planning the next time that the two of you can come back, desperate to see you so happy again. Desperate to make you that happy.

It becomes almost a routine. The two of you begin your weekend by going out for breakfast somewhere, Spencer follows you around the library and then the two of you go home and spend the rest of the day quietly in one of your apartments. Usually it involves him playing Zelda on the couch with your feet in his lap while you churn through your book.

You fold around each other comfortably. You have your separate friends, your separate jobs (well… technically separate), and your separate hobbies. But as the weeks turn into months, Spencer sinks right into your little oasis in your apartment.

His clothes end up in your drawers, he starts going in to work with homemade meals that are obviously made by someone who graduated culinary school (i.e, not him). Love pours endlessly out of every crevice, and Spencer feels like he’s drowning in it. Spencer loves his apartment, it’s his home, but as somebody who also loves you he loves your apartment a lot as well.

It feels like every single time he goes over he finds out something new about you and the way you love, which is why he’s not quite so sure why it took him so long to notice the empty shelves in your room.

You’re on your phone, lying on your stomach with your feet by the head of the bed. Spencer is just coming back from the kitchen, your coffee order in his hand when he notices it. “Are you gonna put something on that shelf?”

You look up from your phone to see the shelf he’s gesturing to. Spencer can’t pretend not to notice the way that your face falls. “Uh, sure. I can if you want?”

Spence shrugs as he comes to sit down beside you. You wriggle up so you’re sitting and take the coffee out of his hand. “I don’t care, babe. It’s your room.” He plants a kiss on the side of your face and swiftly moves on. “I just remembered on Saturday I made plans with Kiana, so I’m gonna have to skip the library, I’m sorry.” He does seem genuinely sorry to be missing out on the time spent with you, you deflate subtly.

“That’s totally fine,” you return his kiss. “Tell her I say hi. I’m not done with my current one anyway, so I might just stay home.” You love the library, you spend a lot of time there, but you’re looking forward to a nice morning by yourself at home. Then, you remember the date and groan quietly under your breath. “Never mind, I have to go in to renew it anyway, or else I’ll get another late fee.”

You’d only ever returned a library book late once in your entire life, something that Spencer found completely adorable. Especially so the fact that you viewed it as such a big deal.

“I guess that’s the price you pay for them being free,” Spencer points out.

You hum, “I wouldn’t mind having one or two that I get to keep,” you say it so concretely, so nonchalantly. As though it’s not actually something you’re able to do.

“Why don’t you buy a couple?”

You glance over at the empty shelves. “‘Cause it’s like, childish?”

Spencer frowns, sitting up straighter. “Babe, do you think I’m childish?”

You rush to fix your mistake. “No! Of course not, that’s not at all what I meant-”

Spencer takes your hand, putting the empty coffee cup on your nightstand. It’s filled with his things and that makes his heart swell. “No, I know you weren’t calling me childish. But do you think I am?” When you shake your head, he continues. “I have like, video game bullshit all over my place. You’re not childish for having things that you like in your apartment. Plus, books are like the most normal out of all collectibles.” His eyes are deep and sincere and you roll your heels underneath you, moving so your legs are spread out in front of you. “You want books? Buy a million fucking books, babe.”

You sigh, biting your bottom lip. “I know, it’s… I used to have stuff on that shelf,” you admit. “I had a bunch of books, I’d been collecting some of them since I was a kid and everything. My last boyfriend he, well. Doesn’t matter, long story short, I came home from work one day and they were all gone.”

Spencer is probably the last guy you’d expect to see involved in a fistfight. He’s 5 '6, he loves Hawaiian shirts and there is video evidence of him Fortnite dancing. But more than that, though, he loves you, which is why his first instinct is to go find whoever it was that did that and fuck them up.

“That’s so messed up?” He can’t even wrap his head around it. “Babe, what? No, oh my god.” He can’t even formulate a coherent sentence. You love so liberally, so generously, that the idea that someone had thrown away something you love made him physically sick.

“I’m so sorry that he did that to you, that’s fucked. Not your fault you know how to read and he doesn’t.” That makes you laugh, your chest shaking as you lean into him. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your temple, rubbing your forearm gently.

He and Kiana have plans on Saturday, and he has no intention of bailing on them, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling out his phone and texting her, asking if she’d be willing to make another stop with him while they were together.

The next Saturday, you get home from renewing your library book to find your boyfriend waiting out the front of your apartment. He beams at you as you reach him and you don’t have to look inside the box to know that once you stop kissing him you’ll find the beginnings of your next book collection.

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #spencer agnew fic #smosh x reader

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leosgreyfringe · 6 months ago

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LOOK AT HIMM!!!! I love it so much 😭😭

Award for first prize winner @leosgreyfringe, who suggested this awesome idea of beach Benny Blanco.

Never forget that Ben White was chilling on holiday while England struggled through the group stages. That's my boy. Love that for him. Hope he recharged the tan.

See here for more of my Arsenal art

#all the tattoo details!! his tan!! his smug smile!#also all of the animated details are so nice! I’m obsessed with the dangly earring #as always he is the smartest english player ever 💅🏼#my wife…..I love him so much #THANK YOU AGAIN ❤️❤️❤️ this brightened my day. my whole week honestly!!#benjamin white

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haikyu-mp4 · 9 months ago

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Knight in a borrowed suit

word count; 1215 – f!reader wearing a dress, inspired by New Girl

He stood you up. After taking up a table for over an hour, sitting in the middle of the restaurant and on show for everyone to watch as you tried your best to stop the tears from escaping, you’re sure that he stood you up. With an elegant dress, hair dolled up and impeccable makeup compared to what you usually did, you had been so excited for this date with a man you truly thought was interested. The two of you had gone out once or twice before and you were hoping it could grow into something, make you forget about that one unattainable volleyball player your heart beat a bit louder for. But it seemed not even people without status were interested for long. Maybe you came on too strong? Did you laugh too loud? Whatever it was, you weren’t sure you deserved this humiliation.

The waiter came over again with the same pitiful smile, and you knew she would politely ask you to leave. With a straightened back and tears at bay, you pursed your lips so she wouldn’t feel too bad about it.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, but unless you want to order, we have to give up your table,” she said, trying to speak as low as possible so all the people eyeing you wouldn’t be too entertained.

“That’s okay, I appreciate your patience,” you said, putting your purse on the table so you could pay for the wine glass you had when a voice rang out through the restaurant.

“Wait! I’m so sorry I’m late.” Oh, you knew that voice very well. Your head snapped in his direction, a small tear finally escaping the brim of your eye to trickle down and caress your smile. A very thankful smile.

It wasn’t your original date, it was Miya Atsumu.

He smoothed his hands over his suit, trying to catch his breath as he came over to your side, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before moving to the other side and gesturing to the waiter. His hair was a bit messy, and his tie wasn’t very well tied, but he was handsome nonetheless. It was also Osamu’s suit, so it didn’t fit him like a glove. “Please excuse me and leave the menus. I’ll make sure to tip well for the wait,” he said, more professionally before finally sitting down. Your eyes had followed him the whole way, wide with wonder that he came to save you. It felt like you were in some romantic comedy.

About 1 hour earlier

Atsumu was never happy about that new manager asking you out, and much less about you agreeing to it. Could you not see he was going through a perfectly planned 14-step process of asking you out? You had known each other since the day he started playing for the Black Jackals and he felt like there was a spark between you. He found you beautiful even when you weren’t dressed up for anything special, and you always had a great sense of humour. Nothing could brighten his day quite like making you laugh, a feeling he would even compare to a perfect service ace.

So when he saw that slimy manager in the gym, laughing with his friend after seemingly picking something up when he was supposed to be with you, he had to stop himself from getting violent. “No way man, she was way too much. I swear I’ll hear her laugh ringing in my ears for weeks, and that ain’t a good thing.” your original date said to the other guy, and Atsumu took in a few deep breaths to calm down before running to the locker room. He hit speed dial and held the phone to his ear, happy Osamu picked up quickly.

“What?” he snapped.

“There’s no time to explain, I need you to get me a suit.”

Now here he was, sitting across from you with red ears and a slightly nervous smile. He had finally caught his breath when he looked at you properly, taking in every blink of your eyelashes and how your shoulders looked so kissable under the dress straps. “Wow,” he breathed out, feeling more breathless than he did after running all the way to the restaurant. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you, Atsumu,” you said affectionately, leaning your arms on the table in a desperate attempt to get just a little closer to him. You looked happy, he thought, but it was painted with uncertainty. “But… why are you here?”

Atsumu took a moment to answer, thinking back to what he heard before and trying not to let the angry emotions ruin this moment. “I’m taking a beautiful woman on the date she deserves,” he answered.

You didn’t need to know how he knew you were stood up, because now all you could think of was how real it felt. The universe granted you a chance to pretend Atsumu was there for you and not just because he’s a good guy.

It genuinely felt like that as you talked the night away, sharing food and ordering whatever wine they recommended as you talked about the things you never had time for at work. Your laugh was melodic to him, it’s what he imagined he would hear if he ever got into heaven. Unfortunately, you weren’t quite sold on him being there out of his own interest. So as you two stepped out of the restaurant at the end of the night, you said “Thank you for saving my date, Tsumu. You didn’t have to but I had a great time.”

Atsumu grinned, so hopelessly enchanted with your smile. “It was my pleasure, honestly,” he said, and it felt a bit too polite to you.

“If you want, I won’t tell anyone. You were probably just being nice,” you said with a forced chuckle, revealing more of your emotions than you planned.

“What?” he asked, grin diminishing as he tried to understand.

“You’re a good friend, I don’t want to assume there is anything more.”

“No!” It was now or never. He looked at you like you were the sun and he was the moon, desperately trying to reach for you and never quite making it; frustratedly. It left you speechless, staring at him with parted lips and trying to take in enough air to support your rising heartbeat. “I want to take you on more dates. I want to spend most of my time with you, actually. And I want to kiss you, fuck I want to kiss you so bad.” his eyes went to your lips and back up, and your pulse quickened even more, frozen like a deer in headlights from the sudden confession. Atsumu stepped closer, hands hovering over your hips like he wasn’t sure he could touch you. “I really really like you.”

“Tsumu,” you breathed out, a wide smile blinding him to the level that his eyes started watering from its light. “I like you too, I always have.”

Safe to say that the manager who stood you up would lose his job by next week, but you wouldn’t even look in his direction when you had Atsumu’s constant affection. Sometimes, the universe has a plan, and luckily, Atsumu’s 14-step plan was cut down to 3.

masterlist

#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyu fluff #msby atsumu #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #atsumu miya #msby black jackal

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icarusflewsworld · 1 month ago

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Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 10 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Thank you for reading.

Thanks again to everyone who commented. You brightened my days, you are the best thank you. ❤️❤️

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapter 10

“It’s been three fucking days, Rhys,” Azriel exploded, standing up from behind the bushes where they were hiding. He looked down at his two brothers kneeling beside him, his breathing shaky and rapid. He tried to calm down but nothing worked. He never could. Ever since he had met Luxiana, he had been angry all the time, angry because fear was devouring him. He needed to be near her to know she was safe, but the whole world seemed to want to get between her and him.

Rhysand blew out a breath as he closed his eyes, used to his brothers' mood swings during those last weeks, but he had to say that these last few days were even worse. Even for him. He also had so much more trouble concentrating. He knew it was because it had been three weeks since they had returned from the Archerons and that, consequently, Luxiana was with Tamlin during all this time.

He wasn't sleeping anymore. Cassian wasn't eating anymore and Azriel was screaming and fighting all the time. They were losing their minds. But they were so scared. So scared that something would happen to their soulmate. So many bad things could happen to her that it was driving the Illyrians completely crazy with worry.

They hadn't heard from her and hadn't been able to take any news anyway. Firstly so as not to arouse Tamlin's suspicions but also because they were busy elsewhere. Busy finding a reliable way to capture the Suriel. They had even completely neglected the other matters concerning the King of Hybern, they weren't even looking for the second part of the book when it was more than vital to find it. No, as soon as they got back, they had thrown themselves body and soul into the search for the Suriel. Even Cassian had read countless books to try to find a way to capture the creature.

They had ended up, after two weeks of intensive searching, going to a dark and gloomy forest to the west with the aim of setting a trap for the Suriel. They had read in some books that the creature had a taste for freshly dead chickens.

They had been hiding in the bushes for three days, hoping the Suriel would fall into their traps. And the number of chickens they had to kill, and which now lay in a mountain in front of them, was astronomical. But the Suriel was still not there.

Cassian stood up in turn, sighing. "He's right Rhys, it's not working. We're wasting our time. We have to find another solution. We have no more time to waste away from her. I... I can't anymore." He looked sad and tired. The dark circles under his eyes made him look puny and he had lost a little weight.

They all three looked equally bad anyway.

Rhys stood up too, his eyes downcast. They were right. They were so pitiful. But what else could they do? It was a dead-end solution. He needed to know if this woman was their soulmate but at the same time it seemed so true that it seemed wrong to have to ask. Besides, in the meantime she was at Tamlin's, she might be in danger and that was killing him. "Alright," he breathed with all his might, "let's find another solution."

Cassian nodded and Azriel gritted his teeth. He had been gritting his teeth for weeks anyway. “Let’s go,” he spat nastily but involuntarily.

Rhysand took a step forward, moving closer to his brothers so he could teleport them with him. But suddenly, a furtive shadow danced at the corners of their pupils, making them turn their heads to the side.

They almost jumped, their eyes widening in surprise. There, perched on a huge fallen and half-rotten tree, only a few steps away from them, was a pale, livid creature. The Suriel. It had just appeared and sat on the trunk, as if nothing had happened. The creature crossed its legs as it raised one of its thin hands, playing with its long fingers and making appear with a strange magic a white teacup more ordinary than anything there that was here.

The three Illyrians gaped, even less surprised when the Suriel took a sip of his steaming hot tea. What the hell was going on? They glanced at their trap and frowned when they saw it still intact. The Suriel had come on his own?

“You had questions for me?” the Suriel spoke in a distant voice, as if from another dimension. He took another sip of his drink, savoring the flavor of the Illyrians’ surprise in front of him.

“You…” Rhysand began, searching for words, still not believing his eyes. He glanced at his brothers who looked as confused as he did. He took a step forward, towards the pale creature. “You surrendered on your own?”

The creature nodded and raised his teacup into the air. "You had questions," he repeated as his only reply.

Cassian frowned. He was going to ask the Suriel why he was here. Why he had come of his own free will, but the omniscient creature already knew his question. It answered him without Azriel even having to speak. "Because you have questions to ask me, the answers to which are extremely important."

Azriel narrowed his eyes. He was disturbed. His shadows didn't even seem to detect the creature and the fact that it surrendered itself was more than suspicious. It was hiding something and he didn't have time for secrets. Not when his soulmate was in danger. Not when Luxiana was possibly his soulmate and that he had already wasted too much time away from her. "Why didn't you surrender before then? Three days ago when we arrived, for example, or even before if you know everything. We've been trying to meet you for weeks."

“Because it wasn’t the right time, now it is. Now, you are ready to hear the answers to your questions.” The creature stared at them with a blank, creepy gaze that made Cassian shiver. The Suriel didn’t seem to feel any emotion, but when he looked at the three Faes in front of him, feelings stirred in his chest. Their relationship with that girl would determine the future of the world. “Ask your questions.”

It was at that moment that the three Illyrians realized. The Suriel was in front of them. It didn't matter why or how he had gotten there. He was there. That meant they were going to have the answers to their questions. The questions they had been asking themselves for weeks.

A ball of anxiety crushed their stomachs in one violent blow, burning their eyes, making their breaths cut and their muscles tremble. It might all be over very quickly. She might not be their soulmate and then it would all be done. But damn, they were so afraid of that. Of losing this woman. And if she was their soulmate… Yes, it would fill them with joy, of course, but also with anxiety.

A silence fell. A silence that none of the three Illyrians wanted to break. They were too afraid of the answers they might get. Normally, they could have been brave but today, this fear was overwhelming. After all, they didn't only have their fear and anxiety to deal with but those of their two brothers as well.

Cassian looked down. He was tired. He and his brothers were warriors. They had lived through wars and battles. Seen and suffer through horrors but they had never been so afraid and they had never felt so cowardly as they did now. It wasn't him. It wasn't them. This had to end. He needed to know.

Azriel froze, with all his muscles tense. He was terrified, he felt almost in danger of death. Then suddenly, he thought of Luxiana, he saw her smiling face in his mind and smelled her vanilla scent even though she wasn't there. He relaxed. He had no doubts anyway. He knew who she was to him. She was his soulmate and that was all that mattered. He just needed her. And then, he could accept sharing her with his brothers if it meant he could have her for himself a little.

Rhysand had to ask the question. He had to, he knew it. It had to come from him. He was Cassian and Azriel's lord. He had to help them through their trials. He had to be braver and more courageous than they were. But the truth was, if he were truly brave and courageous, he wouldn't be here. He would have left Luxiana far away from them, far away from him. Far away from the danger they are for her. But he was selfish. Terrified and selfish. He wanted her. "Is Luxiana our soulmate?" He spoke, softly, trembling, almost inaudibly, but the Suriel didn't really need to hear the question.

The Suriel was just waiting for him to ask it, because that would mean they were ready to hear the answer. And now, they were. "Yes," he answered simply.

A weight lifted from the shoulders of the three Illyrians before crashing down on them again, making them capsize and stumble, as if the earth beneath their feet had trembled. Rhysand fell to his knees, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Cassian let himself fall buttocks to the ground in the same state as Rhysand. Azriel tensed his muscles so much that he gained a few centimeters.

Rhysand couldn't breathe anymore but at the same time he took in deep breaths of fresh air that filled his lungs. So many conflicting feelings were overwhelming him. His eyes began to sparkle. She was his soulmate. Luxiana was truly his soulmate. He began to smile, his heart beating painfully in his chest. Then his joy faded. She was his soulmate and she was with Tamlin, his worst enemy. She was his soulmate and she was human. But he had met his soulmate!

Cassian's legs couldn't hold the weight of the enormity that had fallen on him. This sexy, intelligent and characterful woman was really his soulmate? He was so lucky. But at the same time he felt cursed by the cauldron. His wings fell limply on his back, he no longer had the strength to make them stand up straight. A barbed wire surrounded his throat. His soulmate was a human. She was fragile. She only had a few precious days before leaving him... He couldn't bear it. His eyes began to burn. He had to take advantage of the time he still had with her.

Azriel felt empty. Completely and abysmally empty. He had experienced so much in the last few weeks and it had all stopped suddenly. He didn't realize it. He didn't understand. It wasn't possible. There were three of them. He couldn't accept sharing his soulmate with his brothers. "It's impossible. She can't be our true mate. Not for all three of us. We can't have multiple soulmates."

He thought out loud but the Suriel had only been waiting for this opportunity. And the intrigued eyes of Cassian and Rhysand who had looked up at him were just waiting for an answer. "It is very rare, so rare that the history of the world has only seen this phenomenon occur three times. Three small times in billions of years of existence."

Azriel shook his head, still not believing it. "But how? Why?"

The Suriel took a slow sip of tea, waiting to fully capture the attention of the three Illyrians. "Sometimes, when the history of the world is at one of its turning points, fate takes the side of a part. Unfortunately, it cannot drastically influence the course of history but it can rig it. Help its favored side win by giving it advantages and facilities."

Cassian stood up slowly, reeling, just as confused as his two brothers. "I don't understand," he said, feeling like none of this had to do with them or Luxiana.

The Suriel already knew what the Illyrien with the red siphons was going to say, he smiled. "Some people are born to influence the history of the world, such as Luxiana. And fate took your side by binding you to her."

Rhysand sank further towards the ground, somehow stopping himself from falling completely onto the damp earth. Each of the Suriel's words made his realization and what was happening grow ever larger.

“Why the three of us?” Azriel cried, his eyes burning, his fists clenched. There had to be a reason. There had to be a reason why fate had decided that he would not be enough for his soulmate on his own.

"Because destiny is not the only entity to decide. Because other factors that come into decision have decided to give a balance to everything. And that's what they did with Luxiana. A being so capable of great things cannot subsidize for eternity. That's why she is so fragile. So strong but so fragile. It is the balance of nature that destiny wanted to thwart a little by binding you to her. To protect her. To save her so that she can influence the world as she is supposed to do."

Azriel realized suddenly. Like a hammer blow that fell on him, breaking him into lots of little pieces. His legs gave away and he joined the ground with Rhysand, the air no longer even penetrating his throat that was too tight.

The three Illyrians, trembling until then, understood. They finally understood. They had been bound to Luxiana by destiny to love her, cherish her and protect her. To allow her to change the course of history.

It necessarily implied that she would be in danger and that terrified them but it also implied that everything made sense. That she was so important to the world that destiny had decided to bind her to the three strongest warriors in this country. Their soul mate. It was now a certainty. She was their soul mate. She was their soul mate!

Cassian laughed. He laughed with all his might, bending in two to hold his stomach with both hands. The weight of worry and fear he had felt all those days had disappeared. He laughed with relief, then joy, then excitement. He was going to have to fight to protect his soulmate and damn it, he would do it with pleasure. He knew how to fight and he was even very good at it. His soulmate would be fine because he would protect her with all his might. She was his soulmate and he was going to be able to go get her, he was going to be able to spend time with her. His heart swelled in his chest and his dark circles almost disappeared by themselves. He had found his soulmate and she was incredible. She was perfect. And she was his soulmate.

Rhysand began to smile too, lightening up just as much as Cassian. Everything was explained. Everything. And at the same time, everything that the Suriel had just told them was so unimportant. So unimportant when he was now certain that he had met his soul mate. He was able to take a deep breath and although his heart was still a little tight with apprehension and fear, it didn't matter. It didn't matter because he would face the difficulties with his soul mate by his side. A tear ran down his cheek. He almost felt like he was floating in the air thinking about Luxiana and her scent. Already imagining the life they were going to have together. At four. That was why destiny had made him so close to his brothers. He no longer had any doubts about anything now. He was going to do everything to protect his soul mate. Everything. And he intended to enjoy his days with her.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In fact, he took several. He was terrified. He had to resign himself for the well-being of his soulmate, to share her with his brothers. He had to do it for her to be happy and to protect her. In truth, the more he thought about it, the more it chased away the enormous weight from his body. The more he thought about Luxiana loving her brothers, the calmer he became. As long as she was happy, that was what mattered. That was what he wanted more than anything. For her to be happy and safe. Especially since he was going to need his brothers' help to protect his clumsy soulmate. His Luxiana. The Suriel had said that nature had balanced things out by making Luxiana fragile, and he was so afraid of not being good at the task of protecting her. He was so afraid of failing. But at the same time, he began to vibrate. To vibrate with excitement. He had then deserved to meet his soulmate and even if destiny punished him by giving him a fragile woman, he would do penance and protect her with all his soul. She was human but he was not going to let her be hurt.

The Suriel suddenly laughed, startling the three Illyrians. "Is she?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

The three brothers slowly calmed down, and looked at each other in confusion. What was he talking about? No one had spoken and none of them had said anything.

"You should go," the Suriel said, interrupting their train of thought. "Go to her, because she's not going to affect the history if you're not by her side, and you won't be by her side if she falls in love with someone else."

The three of them froze, jumping up, suddenly looking cold and serious. They had just learned that Luxiana was indeed their soulmate. They had just learned that they could finally possess her and that nothing was holding them back anymore but now, the Suriel was telling them that she could fall in love with someone else.

"A redhead for example, one of the sons high lords. She seems to like him much more than she should."

“Lucien?” Azriel cried out, realizing who the Suriel was talking about. His heart began to pound wildly in his chest and his fists clenched. He should have killed that bastard when he had the chance. How dare he even think about stealing his soulmate?

"I'm going to crush that bastard's head!" Cassian spat, clenching his fists in front of him, imagining the redhead's face in them. He swore that if it was too late and his soulmate had started loving someone else, he would kill him to take his place. All his evil instincts were awakening under this jealousy. But now that he knew that Luxaina was his soulmate, he had no reason to hold them back because after all, she was his.

Rhysand felt a mixture of emotions. Fear, stress, but also joy and excitement. He had gotten a kind of green light from the Suriel to love this woman and that was all he had been waiting for. He felt like he had lived only for her. Only to meet her and although that was maybe a little bit of the case, it made him happy. She seemed so worth it. He was suddenly so eager to get to know her. She was his soulmate for goodness sake, the woman of his life. He had no reason to keep her away from him anymore, even less now that the Suriel had told him he had to protect her. "Let's go get her," he wanted to look up at the Suriel to thank him but in a cloud of strange magic, he disappeared.

They had no more time to waste. All three of them took a deep breath, calming themselves down, regaining a cool head, mentally preparing themselves, thinking of a plan. Then they teleported to Tamlin's. They were going to get their soulmate back.

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dreamwritesimagines · 1 year ago

Text

Garden of Secrets [36] - Middlemist Red

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Summary: Patience has its rewards.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 4200

Series Masterlist

Rumors were an inseparable part of the ton, and you were well aware of that. Every season people found different things to gossip about and you’d had your fair share of being the subject of the said gossip, so it wasn’t supposed to be this surprising that they kept talking even after you got married.

But it didn’t mean you liked this particular rumor.

This was the second time Lady Whistledown had mentioned just how close Margery and Benedict seemed to be with each other, joking and laughing in the park when they ran into each other and even though you knew it was nonsense, you still couldn’t help the discomfort at the pit of your stomach.

Especially now that you were seeing it happen on the other side of the park.

“If I see your parents, I’ll give them a piece of my mind,” Lottie said, making you turn your glances to her. “They show up and make you feel bad all of a sudden? How dare they?”

“Lottie—”

“And to think they’ve been mean to you all this time?”

Well, what your parents had done was a bit more than just being mean to you, but you weren’t going to correct her on that.

“Simply unacceptable,” Lottie said, pointing at you with the cookie she was holding. “I’ll be with you at all times starting now, so that if they dare bother you again, I can handle them.”

You repressed a laugh.

“Much appreciated,” you said. “But you can’t be with me at all times Lottie, you have a wedding to plan.”

A smile brightened up her face. “I do!” she said. “But nevertheless Y/N, you are alright are you not?”

“Sure,” you said. “We don’t even need to talk about it.”

Lottie took a deep breath.

“I hate to ask, you know I do,” she said. “But have you seen Whistledown?”

Your eyes found Margery and Benedict who looked very much interested in their own conversation, Benedict frowning before he nodded at something Margery told him.

“It’s nonsense,” you forced yourself to say, and Lottie pressed her lips together.

“It is, but…” she said. “You know what? I suddenly remembered I had something to say to Benny, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait—Lottie no!” you whispered but she had already walked away from you to Benedict and Margery. Benedict turned to her, and raised his brows at something she said, then quickly bid Margery goodbye and followed Lottie as she started walking towards the street vendor to buy some lemonade while Margery walked to Lucy.

“Y/N,” you heard Anthony’s voice and looked over your shoulder.

“Anthony,” you said. “Hello.”

“May I?” he motioned at the spot beside you and you tilted your head in confusion, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Of course.”

“How have you been?”

“Fine—you never ask me how I’ve been,” you said, confusion laced in your voice. “What is happening? Are you sick?”

“No?”

“Are you dying?” you asked, making him roll his eyes. “It would be very thoughtless of you to die before you spend a lot of years with Lottie as a married couple, she’s very much in love with you so if you—”

“I’m not,” he cut you off. “It’s just that, Benedict mentioned a pair of unwelcomed guests.”

You pursed your lips, trying to shake off the discomfort.

“And?” you asked. “What exactly did he tell you?”

“Not much to be honest,” Anthony said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t know the details nor do I need to. I just want you to know that we’re family, so whatever you need, whatever you want, just tell me, alright? No questions asked.”

You blinked a couple of times. “…Easy as that?”

“Easy as that.”

“I thought you would have a thousand questions.”

“I don’t need to hear a thousand answers to protect my family,” he stated. “You’re one of us now. We will always be there for you, no matter what.”

You blinked a couple of times, the back of your eyes burning as a warmth spread through your chest, but before you could say anything, Benedict and Lottie approached you with the lemonade bottles. Benedict pulled his brows together, then motioned between you two.

“No one appears to be stabbed,” he commented. “Is it snowing in hell?”

“Benny!” Lottie elbowed him and he repressed a grin.

“Just wondering,” he said as he held out the lemonade bottle and you took it from him. “Would you like to walk?”

“I would actually,” you said and took his hand, your heart skipping a beat as he pulled you up to your feet, but he didn’t let go of your hand contrary to before. You repressed a smile, then stole a look at Lottie’s maid before turning to Lottie and Anthony.

“Don’t do something scandalous,” you said with a grin, making Benedict chuckle and Lottie gasp, then you started walking beside Benedict.

“So Lottie finally forgave you completely,” you asked him and he nodded his head.

“Took forever but yes,” he said and cleared his throat. “She did mention that Whistledown piece though.”

You raised your brows. “…Oh.”

“I hope you know there’s nothing like that,” he said. “Margery is a very good friend of mine, not to mention I would never do that to you.”

“No I know,” you said in a hurried manner. “I mean if I’m honest, I didn’t even bring it up because it was such nonsense that I almost forgot.”

Well, that was a complete and utter lie, but lucky for you, Benedict seemed to have bought it.

“Right,” he said, nodding his head fervently. “Of course. Lady Whistledown must be running out of gossip to write about.”

“Yeah!” you forced a dry laughter. “I mean you and Margery? Honestly?”

“Unbelievable.”

You took a sip of your lemonade, then motioned between you two. “Because, you know—we’re married.”

“Happily married,” he added in a haste and you nodded.

“Albeit a bit untraditionally.”

“Well—”

“Your mother assumed I was pregnant earlier.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have said it right when he was sipping his lemonade because he choked on it, pulling the bottle from his lips and coughing before hitting his chest.

“Oh,” he said, taking a deep breath. “And what did you say?”

“Nonexistent Bridgerton remains to be nonexistent,” you joked and scrunched up your nose. “I just said no.”

“Interesting assumption.”

“Uh huh,” you said. “Interesting and impossible at the same time.”

“I’m quite familiar with that concept,” he murmured and you frowned.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s go by the river, shall we?”

After the park, you had decided to go to your uncle and aunt’s house to spend some time with them and Teddy. Granted you still felt on edge especially because you were very well aware of the fact that both your parents knew about their house, and Teddy living there. When you got off the carriage, you looked around and let out a relieved breath upon not seeing either of them, then made your way to the house.

Thankfully, your aunt had no idea about what happened between Benedict and your father because you had only told your uncle at the night of the ball that your father had shown up.

“I don’t know how you and Benedict did it,” your aunt told you, excitement and pride apparent in her voice as a maid brought you tea and biscuits. “But Sir Henry Granville and Lord Gordon Easton! At my ball!”

“They run in the same social circle, auntie,” you said with a small smile. “All artists do, as it turns out. Benedict introduced me to them.”

“Well everyone in my Social Picnic Club has congratulated me for throwing such a spectacular ball,” she said. “I’ve even heard some say that it would be impossible to top it off, can you believe that?”

“I absolutely can,” you said. “It was a wonderful ball, auntie. You put so much effort into it, and it paid off.”

“With your and Benedict’s contribution.”

“We barely did anything other than inviting some friends,” you said. “Will uncle be at the gentlemen’s club the whole day by the way?”

“Mm hm, he’s with his friends,” she said. “Why?”

“Oh no reason, I just thought I could see him.”

She hummed, looking at you over her teacup and you frowned.

“I know that look,” you said. “What is it?”

“Is this about…” she trailed off. “What was on Whistledown earlier?”

You let out a groan. “Auntie!”

She held up her hands, gesturing surrender.

“It was on Whistledown,” she said. “You cannot blame me for being worried.”

“Just because it’s on Whistledown doesn’t mean it’s the truth,” you said. “In fact, it couldn’t be farther away from the truth. Benedict and I are very happily married, and Margery is merely a friend.”

She raised her brows, taking another sip of her tea.

“I heard that Lady Margery is quite charming—not that she’s anywhere close to you!” she added in a haste. “You are the most charming of course.”

“More like harming,” you mused and she shot you a lighthearted glare.

“Y/N.”

“What?” you said. “Just saying.”

“Benedict is completely in love with you, we all know that,” she said. “The same with you obviously, you are very much in love with him, anyone who looks at you for more than a second could see that.”

You blinked a couple of times, shifting your weight.

“I mean I wouldn’t say—” you said with a nervous laugh. “One could assume it’s not as—”

“Obvious?” she completed your sentence for you and scoffed. “Of course it is. Have you two seen yourselves?”

You cleared your throat, then reached out to take a bite from the biscuit.

“I’m just trying to make sure these nonsense rumors do not affect you two badly, that is all,” she said and you shook your head.

“It’s not—” you started but before you could even complete your sentence, Teddy rushed into the drawing room.

“Y/N!”

“Oh hello there,” you said, opening your arms as he flung himself to you for you to hug him tight. “French lesson is over for the day?”

“Yes!” he said and you pulled back to look at him, then tilted your head at the clumsily tied cravat around his neck. You stole a look at your aunt who looked like she was trying her hardest to keep a straight face, and turned to Teddy.

“What is this?”

“It’s a cravat!” he said, excitement laced in his tone. “Benedict always wears them, did you notice that?”

You bit back at smile. “Oh does he?”

“He does!”

“And now you’re…wearing cravats?”

He nodded, his eyes sparkling.

“I want them in different colors because Benedict has them in different colors, I told uncle and he said he would get me many,” he said. “This is uncle’s as well, you see.”

Your lips curled upwards. “Ah?” you said. “And you chose a green one for today?”

“It’s pale green!”

“Pale green, my apologies.”

“It’s alright, auntie told me it was pale green,” he patted your hand as if trying to console you. “We can learn those together.”

You nodded solemnly.

“That would be wonderful,” you said, reminding yourself not to laugh. “And you chose pale green because…?”

“Benedict was wearing a pale green cravat the other day,” he said, proud of himself for remembering it and you pinched his cheek.

“It looks wonderful on you Teddy.”

“Really?”

You kissed the top of his hair. “Really,”

“He is growing up so fast,” your aunt said, shaking her head with a smile. “I fear I will blink and he will be a gentleman of the ton.”

You let out a laugh and Teddy took a sharp breath.

“Y/N, I will show you my new sculptures!” he said, tugging you by the hand. “I made a dozen of them, come and see!”

“Am I allowed to boast about how I was the first one to see them when you’re a famous sculptor?”

“Yes!”

“I’ll be back auntie,” you said with a grin and stood up, letting Teddy lead you out of the room.

You had spent more time in your uncle’s house than originally planned. Your uncle insisted you stayed for dinner, so you sent Benedict a short note to let him know, inviting him as well but he politely declined, saying that he was in the middle of a painting. After dinner, Teddy showed you how he made some of his sculptures the way Benedict had shown him so by the time you left there, it was already near midnight and raining. A carriage went past your carriage a minute before you arrived home, making you frown and look over your shoulder, but you didn’t have the time to dwell on it much before your carriage entered through the gates and stopped in front of your house. The coachman helped you out and you thanked him, then rushed home to get away from the rain.

“Ma’am,” the housekeeper greeted you and you smiled at her.

“Hello,” you said as a maid took your cloak. “Oh I must change my clothes, it’s raining like crazy outside! Is Paula asleep?”

“No ma’am, I’m here,” Paula said as she rushed to you and you shot her an apologetic grin.

“Please tell me you did not stay up for me.”

“Alright, I will not,” she said and you let out a giggle, then started walking upstairs with her.

“I don’t know where this storm came from, honestly…” you mused, turning the corner in the hallway before peeking at the other end of it where Benedict’s studio was, but there was no light coming from there. “Is Benedict asleep?”

Paula didn’t answer you so you turned your head to look at her better.

“Is Benedict asleep?” you asked again, thinking she didn’t hear you and she shifted her weight.

“No he’s not, ma’am.”

You stopped walking, a frown pinching your brows together.

“Oh?” you said. “Where is he?”

Paula averted her gaze, making your frown deeper.

“Paula?” you said. “What is happening?”

“N—nothing, ma’am.”

“No, something is happening,” you said. “What is it? Has he gone outside or something?”

“He’s home, ma’am.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Where?”

“He is still in the greenhouse I think,” she said, still not looking you in the eye and you blinked a couple of times.

“Greenhouse?” you asked, “Benedict isn’t the gardening type, what is he doing in the greenhouse?”

“They went there earlier, ma’am.”

“They?” you repeated. “Who’s they?”

“Mr. Bridgerton and Lady Margery.”

Your head shot up, your heart dropping to your stomach.

“…I’m sorry?”

“Lady Margery came here an hour after your note saying you would be late arrived,” Paula said in a breath, “She left in her carriage just now, but they both went to the greenhouse straight away when she got here.”

It felt as if the hallway was spinning around you, the fire of fury spreading through your veins.

You had to have been an idiot for not listening to Lady Whistledown’s damn gossip, because apparently Benedict wasted not even a second to prove to you she was right. He was in fact sleeping around just as the rumors said, with Margery, right under your nose in the greenhouse he knew you never stepped foot into ever since you had moved here.

You spun around on your heels to go down the hallway where you came from, then rushed downstairs, your heels echoing on the marble floor. You passed through the foyer, then made your way to the back entrance that led to the backyard where the greenhouse was, but before you could reach there, Benedict stepped inside through the door, a look of surprise crossing his face as soon as he saw you.

“Y/N?”

You passed by him without even acknowledging him, your teeth clenched in anger.

“Wait, where are you—?” he started but you stepped outside into the heavy rain, and strode across the backyard, Benedict catching up with you in seconds.

“Where are you going?”

“Greenhouse,” you spat as the lightning struck in the sky and he stopped dead in his spot for a second before rushing to catch up with you.

“No you can’t—”

“Why not?” you asked through the boom of the thunder, “Can I not see your bachelor’s flat you so conveniently and disrespectfully put near my home?”

He frowned as if he was confused.

“My what?” he asked but you scoffed and kept walking, your head almost pounding from anger. “Y/N no, that’s not—”

“I’m such an idiot,” you said, shaking your head. “To think I was telling everyone Whistledown’s gossip was nonsense while you brought your fucking mistress here the moment you heard I would be late…”

“What?” he asked, shock apparent in his voice as you approached the greenhouse and reached out to hold the handle but he grabbed at your upper arm. “Y/N, just wait a moment—”

You could swear your vision went red as you yanked your arm out of his grip.

“You do not touch me!” you snapped. “I never want to see you ever again, do you hear me? I will apply for divorce tomorrow morning, I will—”

You stopped talking the second you slammed open the greenhouse door, your breath getting caught in your throat as you blinked a couple of times, trying to understand whether you were seeing was in fact real.

You had refused to enter the greenhouse just like you had refused to garden when you and Benedict got married and moved here, and before that, you had seen maybe only five greenhouses in total but none of them looked like this. The large greenhouse looked as if someone had plucked it out of a painting and brought it into life somehow, and you felt your body move on its own accord as you took a step inside almost in a haze. It was entirely made of glass with the plants covering the walls –ivy, if you weren’t mistaken- with a sharp arch on the high ceiling. Even under the moonlight, you could tell the various flowers surrounding you were not among those you could find in anyone’s garden, yours included. It looked so magical that for a couple of seconds you could only stand there and stare with your jaw hanging before approaching a Venus Flytrap, still breathing hard.

“I don’t…” you stammered. “What is this?”

“Well,” Benedict said, leaning back to one of the glass walls. “For starters, it’s not my bachelor’s flat because I don’t have one. It was supposed to be a surprise for tomorrow, I figured you could see it better in the sunlight.”

You blinked a couple of times, then turned to look at him. “But Margery—”

“Has been helping me prepare this, along with Mr. Binsted,” Benedict motioned around you. “They know the rare flowers better than I do. I was going to bring you here once it was completed, took more time than I thought it would. I figured since you were outside, it would be easier for the finishing touch. Like I said, I was going to show you tomorrow now that it’s complete.”

You swallowed thickly, all the fury leaving your body as disbelief took over.

“Complete?” you repeated and Benedict offered you a small smile, then nodded towards the center of the glass wall you were close to, making you turn your head to look at the shelf. The lightning struck the sky again, illuminating the whole greenhouse and you took a sharp breath as soon as your eyes fell on the flower.

Middlemist Red.

You had only seen it in the drawings on your plant books, but having spent over a decade wishing you could see it in real life, you would have recognized it anywhere. You weren’t even aware that Benedict had made a mental note of your favorite flower considering you had told him about it only once so many months ago and it was supposed to be impossible to even find it to gaze upon, let alone having it for yourself, for your own greenhouse.

And somehow Benedict had found it and brought it to you.

“It’s not possible,” you rasped out, still unable to look away from the flower. “It’s—it’s impossible to find Middlemist Red, everyone knows that. It’s the rarest flower in the world.”

“I actually sent word around after you told me about it back at the flower exhibit,” he said, making your head turn. “No one knew where to get it but Margery knows someone who knows someone who—well, you get the picture. At first it was just the Middlemist Red, but then we got married and I know you love flowers so I figured maybe you’d like to have all the rare flowers in a place that belonged to you, so…” he motioned around you. “The greenhouse that is.”

You swallowed thickly, still staring at him, both of you completely drenched with the rain pitter pattering against the glass walls.

“It was just a bud at first, the Middlemist,” he added, taking a step toward you. “And apparently you need to be very careful during that period so we had to wait around two months, and they sent it when it bloomed with a gardener who took care of it on the way here, and you obviously would have seen it if you were here so we took it to Margery’s house, and she brought it here and I—”

“You had someone grow the rarest flower in the world and then had it brought here just because I told you it was my favorite flower?” you cut him off, your heart beating in your throat, all your body warm despite the storm outside and he nodded.

“I know you said you wouldn’t garden but when you want to, it’ll all be here,” he said. “I actually have people building a greenhouse back at the country house as we speak, I figured you would want one there as well and—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence when you rushed into his arms and pulled him down to crash your lips against his, standing on your tiptoes. Your head was spinning with excitement, the fire engulfing you in its flames once more like it had when he kissed you for the first time that night. He cradled the back of your head, pressing your body closer to his while you melted into his touch and it felt as if you two were the only people left in the world, as if the storm somehow took everything and everyone away but you two.

But much to your displeasure he pulled back, drawing a petulant whine from your lips.

“I can’t,” he stepped back, making you blink dumbly in confusion at just how tormented he looked. “You have no idea how much I want to but I told you before, I will not touch you until you—”

“I love you,” you cut him off, still trying to catch your breath and the lightning lit inside the greenhouse once again, letting you see the absolute shock on his handsome face. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I tempted fate just a little too much it seems,” you tried to joke. “I do – I love you. More than I thought it was possible, more than you could possibly know.”

The thunder boomed through the greenhouse and you took a deep breath, nervousness pulsing through you as the words left your lips.

“So, my heart is yours,” you managed to say, shifting your weight. “If you’ll have it.”

Benedict let out a breath, then strode to you to pull you into a kiss, taking your breath away. The feeling was so intoxicating that every single fear, every ounce of nervousness washed away from your mind until the only thing remained was him, and his burning touch, his lips on yours. He lifted you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist without breaking the kiss and pressed you back to the wall, making you let out a squeal upon feeling the rustle of the ivy leaves behind you, one of the pots slipping a little on the shelf when you accidentally hit it with your elbow.

“No, not the flowers!” you exclaimed with a giggle. “Careful with the flowers!”

“Right, the flowers—” he let out a laugh and turned around with you still in his arms, then laid you down on the floor, his lips brushing yours again. You pushed his drenched shirt off of his body, dragging your fingertips over his chiseled torso, the fire of desire burning through your whole body. He looked so mesmerizing under the moonlight that for a moment you could do nothing but stare at him while he leaned on his forearm, his body covering yours, his hand going to your cheekbone to caress it gently.

“We can stop anytime you want, my love,” he murmured, his words making your heart feel like warm honey in your chest. “You know that, do you not?”

You bit back a smile, then leaned up to brush your lips against his.

“Benedict,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Chapter 37

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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marshedmallowes · 2 years ago

Note

miguel as pseudo big brother to a reader kinda similar to miles? i was thinking abt that one scene in the first movie when sp//dr broke down and noir carried peni n started feening for platonic miguel 🥹🥹

MIGUEL O'HARA as a big brother figure

yes sorry kinda evil gif choice. anyway listen it is literally my second day on the job so i'm so sorry if miguel is ooc in Any way

despite being such a stoic on the outside, miguel would lowkey have a soft spot for you. he is a big man with a big wall but damn are you so good at climbing over that damn wall

think those tiktoks of how miguel would have a soft spot for mayday and like burst into tears at her sight but he hides it for you bcus he needs to act Cool™ around the team.

he wouldn't outwardly show affection through physical touch or anything, but the GESTURES !! OH THE GESTURES !!

his love languages are definitely gift giving and acts of service!!

also he struggles in communicating his appreciation for you directly but you can definitely see it through the small acts he does for you everyday, like taking the time to check on your mental state every other day (he's trying his best okay).

if he's passing by the cafeteria to get an empanada or something as a snack, he's also buying a whole meal for you whether you like it or not. if you already had lunch he does Not care and you will take it.

he definitely does push you harder, but only because he knows you're capable of so much.

As you run your errands in spider-society, somehow balancing your bio homework that was due the next hour along with the numerous tasks assigned against the multiversal anomalies popping up everywhere. Overwhelmed was an understatement for how you were feeling—that's when a notif popped up on your watch, summoning you to Miguel's spidercave (whatever they call it). "What is it this time?" You say begrudgingly, a little pissed off that your own damn boss summoned you while you were so busy. "Have you forgotten about your own task report? The one issued around a week ago?" Miguel doesn't even face you properly, face obstructed by his countless computer screens. Well, looks like this isn't even worth his damn time.

Sighing, you shuffle through your backpack, past the textbooks and random pens and trinkets before finding a crumpled sheet of paper that you pass to him. "...And can you tell me exactly what this means?" Miguel attempts to smoothen out the report to not much avail, and your unintelligible writing is... something for sure. "Well, so ya see—" What would've been your explanation was cut off by a loud rumble, originating from your stomach. GLRLGLRGLRLGLRGLRLGLR. "..."

"......."

After what could've been the most awkward silence in your life, Miguel finally breaks the ice with a question you didn't really have an answer to.

"When was the last time you've eaten?" "Um..." —Your stomach threatened to roar again— "Like, yesterday night..." "And do you know what time it is?" "....4 in the afternoon? "Ay, coño..." Miguel mutters to himself, as he presses two fingers to his forehead in disappointment.

"No, listen, it's just that I couldn't really eat because I had this biology thing that I had to finish today and I'm not really done with it yet and I hate bio and our teacher sucks and the anomalies too and—" "Okay, okay! I get it!" Your frantic attempts to defend yourself are then abruptly interrupted by the toss of a still-warm empanada container, along with a bottle of water stuck to it via spiderweb. Your eyes immediately brighten up at the sight of food, and your muscles tug into a smile at the man you were so fiercely defending yourself against two seconds ago. "Thank you, thank you!" When the hell did he get that and why save it for me? "Yeah, yeah. Just leave." Miguel spat out, a twinge of embarrassment showing through his features. As you waltz out the room, merienda* in hand, he watches you, not noticing the slight smile forming in his lips.

*merienda is like a snack you eat midway through the afternoon! since its 4pm i thought that was much more fitting than like dinner or something

shoutout to vyn (@prinzevyn) for the help w miguel's character!! unfortunately not awake to beta read aaaAaahhh......

#sorry anon if this isnt what u were expecting #reader is so much of a bratty teenager here because the sibling dynamics i know the most are that of bantering #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miles morales x reader #miguel o'hara #platonic reader #platonic love #platonic miguel o'hara #spiderverse

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idk-ask-me-yesterday · 1 month ago

Note

can you make a roy harper x reader where roy’s a mechanic? maybe he helps fix readers car?

Lady Luck

Summary: You begrudgingly head to a mechanic shop to get your car fixed, you end up leaving with much more than a fixed car.

Puppets: Roy harper x reader

Word count: 1,103 (i got excited for my first fic)

Warnings: none! Just some fluff.

Elle yaps: thank you so much for the ask! I hope i did this justice.

Slightly proofread. No use of Y/N

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This week was not going your way.

Yes, it was only Wednesday, but still. First, you got ghosted on a date, then it started pouring rain while walking your dog, and finally, you returned to your car only to find someone had scraped it and left!

You couldn't tell whether you wanted to scream at every passerby or collapse on the ground crying. Instead, you got in your car and googled the nearest mechanic shop. There goes this month's paycheck...

Luckily, the weather seemed to be clearing up, and the shop was empty when you arrived. Maybe your bad luck streak was over. Maybe things were finally going your way again—

"Can I help you, sweetheart?"

Jumping at the sudden voice, you turn and... fuck. Of course you had to run into one of the probably five hot guys in your city while looking like you'd lived through a tsunami. Luck just isn't on your side today.

"Sweetheart?"

"Oh... yeah. Sorry... Someone uh... hit my car."

Smooth. Real smooth. Not at all awkward. The earth could open up and swallow you whole right about now, but once again, Lady Luck turns her back on you.

He laughs, one of those laughs that seems to brighten the room. Nothing like your strangling-a-chicken laugh.

"Oh yeah? Lemme take a look."

After tying your dog to a nearby pole, you turn back to your car to be smacked in the face with the most delicious set of abs you've ever seen. Truthfully, he was just changing out of his oil-stained shirt, but you preferred the smacked-in-the-face version.

He walks over to your car in a clean shirt, much to your dismay, kneeling to inspect the damage to your headlight.

"Today's your lucky day, sweetheart. They didn't get'cha very good—only some basic damage. I can fix this right up in an hour or so."

'Today is your lucky day,' you almost laughed. He leads you to the back of the shop and looks through his tools.

As he digs through the pile of wrenches and screwdrivers, you can't help but notice how his muscles flex with each movement. Your dog whines from outside, probably sensing your internal struggle between wanting to stare and knowing you absolutely shouldn't.

"Found it!" he exclaims, holding up some tool you couldn't name if your life depended on it. "Now, let's get that car of yours fixed up."

You watch as he gets to work, his movements precise and practiced. The sound of metal on metal fills the air, punctuated by occasional muttering under his breath. Your dog has settled down, apparently having given up on judging your obvious ogling of the attractive mechanic.

"I'm Roy, by the way..." he says, wiping his hands on a nearby rag and flashing you another one of those heart-stopping smiles. "Been wondering what your name is since you walked in. Can't keep calling you sweetheart all afternoon—unless, of course, that's what you'd prefer. Your choice."

You feel a deep blush spreading from your neck to your cheeks as you attempt to introduce yourself, your tongue suddenly feeling three sizes too big for your mouth. Despite your best efforts, you still manage to stumble over the syllables of your own name like you've never said it before in your life. His grin widens at your flustered state, and when he repeats your name back to you, he does it slowly, deliberately, like he's savoring each letter, testing how the sound of it feels on his tongue. The way he says it makes it sound like poetry instead of just another name.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying to find something intelligent to say. But before you can cobble together a coherent response, he's already back at work on your car, humming softly under his breath. The sound mingles with the metallic clinks and your dog's occasional whimpers, creating an oddly soothing symphony in the otherwise quiet shop.

Time seems to slow as you watch him work, each movement deliberate and graceful despite the grease and grime. You find yourself wondering if his hands are as skilled at other things as they are at fixing cars. The thought makes your cheeks burn even hotter, and you quickly look away, pretending to be fascinated by a poster of car parts on the far wall.

The minutes crawl by like honey dripping from a spoon, each second marked by the rhythmic sounds of Roy's work. Finally, after what feels like both an eternity and not nearly long enough, he straightens up with a satisfied grunt that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. "All done, sweetheart. Good as new," he announces with that same easy confidence that's been making your knees weak all afternoon.

He reaches for the nearby rag, methodically wiping his hands clean of grease and grime. The motion leaves dark, artistic smudges across the already well-stained fabric, but you're far too distracted by the way his forearms flex and ripple with each deliberate movement. The simple action shouldn't be nearly as mesmerizing as it is, and yet you find yourself transfixed by the play of muscles beneath his sun-kissed skin.

Your dog barks suddenly, startling you out of your daze, and you realize with embarrassment that you've been staring. Roy doesn't seem to mind though - if anything, his smile has grown wider, more knowing. He pulls a business card from his back pocket and scribbles something on it before holding it out to you.

"My personal number's on the back," he says with a wink that makes your heart skip several beats, your pulse racing like a finely-tuned engine. He taps the card with one grease-stained finger, leaving a tiny smudge on the corner that somehow makes it feel more personal. "In case you need any more... mechanical assistance."

The way he emphasizes those last two words, letting them roll off his tongue with deliberate slowness, leaves little doubt that car repairs aren't the only kind of assistance he's offering. His eyes meet yours with an intensity that makes the already warm garage feel positively sweltering, and you find yourself wondering if he can hear how loudly your heart is hammering against your ribs.

With trembling fingers, you take the card, trying desperately to act casual even as electricity shoots through your body when your fingers brush against his. Your dog gives another impatient bark, reminding you that you've been here far longer than planned. Before you can overthink it, you tuck the card safely in your pocket, already knowing you'll be calling that number sooner rather than later.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

#roy harper x reader #thanks for the ask!#elle writes #anon ask #roy harper #fluff #puppet: Roy Harper

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moremaybank · 1 year ago

Text

MY CLUMSY GIRL — r.c

day seven 3+1 with rafe cameron

pairing rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary three times you were clumsy, and the one time rafe was.

warnings mentions of blood, mentions of a cut (on the forehead), slipping, tripping, rafe gets slightly burned, soft!rafe, whole lotta fluff between rafe and his clumsy baby

author's note last post for obx week! another special thank you to @surftrips for inviting me to be a part of this! i hope you guys enjoyed all the content all the writers and myself have put up for you this week. i hope we were able to brighten your days, even if only for a moment. much love ♡︎

obx week ‘23 masterlist ;; rafe masterlist

Rafe walked through your shared front door. He tossed his keys onto the entryway table, and called out for you. “Baby? I’m home!”

His voice echoed through the quiet house, and he expected to hear your cheerful reply, expected to be smothered with your kisses. But instead, he was met with a tensity in your voice. “Okay, don’t freak out.”

His brows furrowed. “Don’t freak out about what?”

When you didn’t answer as quickly as he’d hoped for, he entered the kitchen, where he saw the pantry door slightly ajar. It was more than unusual for you to be hiding in your pantry, and his confusion only heightened.

Pushing the door open, his eyes found you. His sweet girl, giving him a nervous smile as your hand stayed plastered to your forehead. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Only if you promise me you aren’t going to freak out.”

“You know,” he started, “the more you say that, the more I feel like I’m going to have to.”

Taking a deep breath, you moved your hand, and Rafe’s eyes went wide. His eyes found the gash etched above your eyebrow, and his hands immediately found your face. They cradled it delicately, drawing you closer to him. His thumb carefully traced the cut with his thumb. You winced, and he retracted instantly.

“What happened, baby?” He cooed, voice soft and dripping with concern.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as the embarrassment overtook you. “Nothing. I was just cleaning the counters, and I stood up too quickly. I hit my head on one of the cabinets. It’s not a big deal, though, I’m fine.”

“It’s a big deal to me if you’re bleeding,” he spoke. His lips pressed a quick peck to your lips, both in greeting and in trying to provide you with some comfort. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you at work. You’ve been so busy lately, so stressed. Calling just would’ve made it worse.”

Rafe’s expression softened, and he granted you another kiss. Not fleeting his last one. No, this one was longer, as if he was using his lips to tell you that your stress was ridiculous. “Listen to me. You are never, ever bothering me. I don’t care if I’m in a meeting or if I’m a thousand miles away. I’ll drop everything for you if you need me.”

You smiled, touched by his words. You knew he’d always prioritized you, put you over any and everything. “I know you would, handsome.”

“D’you feel okay? You have a headache? Dizzy?” His hand left your face, and he held up four fingers. “How many fingers, sweetheart?”

You giggled. “Four, Rafe. I can see just fine. It stings a little when I touch it, just like any other cut, but I’m fine, I swear.”

He couldn’t shake the worry that gripped at him, but he also couldn’t deny the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over him knowing that you were in his arms. He squeezed you tightly. “My clumsy girl. We gotta get you a helmet or something. I don’t think I could take it if something like this happened to you again.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you laughed. “And don’t you dare get me a helmet. It’ll ruin my hair.”

You and Rafe planned to have a relaxing weekend. You’d lounged in bed on and off for the entire forty-eight hours, just enjoying each other’s company while being shielded from the rest of the world and its needs.

Rafe was lounging on the couch, hooked on one of your silly teen drama shows that he’d always teased you about. It was hilarious, really. He mocked them constantly, but the minute you’d flip one of them on, he’d soon become consumed.

You moved about in the kitchen with enthusiasm as you started to make breakfast for the two of you. Rafe never failed to sport a child-like grin when he devoured your waffles, and you’d longed to see that smile today.

However, your heavy-handed self got to work, and it wasn’t long before the bag of flour ended up on the marble floor, covering you and the kitchen in a powdery mess. “Shit!”

Rafe, always alert to the sound of your antics, leaped up from the couch and rushed over to you. His eyes landed on the cloud of flour that had taken over the room, and then landed on you with the most adorable and embarrassed look he’d ever seen.

“I, uh, I might’ve had a little accident with the flour.”

“Might’ve, huh?” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he approached you. “You look cute. Like the Pillsbury dough boy.”

You smacked his chest with a playful glare. “Shut up.”

“Come on, you lil’ ghost. Let’s clean you up.”

You nodded, and as you took a step forward, you slipped on the flour and it sent you tumbling toward the floor. Rafe, with his lightning-fast hands, swooped in and caught you.

“Graceful,” he teased, a wide smirk on his lips. “Ten out of ten.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“‘M starting to think that we should get you some bubble-wrap. Gotta protect the goods.”

It was a busy weekday evening, and you had just returned home after a hectic day at work. Your arms were loaded with file folders, each containing a mountain of paperwork that required your attention. You huffed as you finally reached the top of the stairs, making a beeline for your bedroom.

Rafe, who had been lying on the bed and staring at the screen of his laptop, looked up and raised an eyebrow at the sight of you and your obvious struggle. “Hey beautiful, need some help there?”

You grinned, trying to balance the precarious stack of folders. “I’ve got it, baby. Just a few more steps. You stay there and look handsome.”

However, just as you were about to reach the desk, your foot caught on the edge of the rug, and you tumbled forward (you had a real knack for losing your footing, evidently). In what seemed like slow motion, the file folders went flying, papers scattering like confetti around your room. Luckily, you caught yourself, your hands planting on the wooden desk.

Rafe watched in shock as you both became surrounded by a sea of documents. He tried to hold it in, he really did, but he burst into laughter. “Baby, did that really just happen?”

You groaned, crouching down and starting to gather up the hundreds of papers. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

Rafe got up from the bed and joined you, helping you collect all of the documents. “You know, if you wanted to have a paper party, you could’ve just asked.”

You swatted at him. “Very funny, Rafe.”

As you worked together to sort the papers, Rafe couldn’t help but tease you a little more. “I tried to tell you that you needed help.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. You stood up, placing one stack on your desk, and upon turning around, your hand knocked over the cup that held all your writing utensils. The pens and pencils flew everywhere, and you just stood there, jaw-dropped.

Rafe made his way over to you, carefully walking around the papers and your writing tools, and braced his hands on your shoulders. “Alright, you need to relax. Go take a shower. Actually— scratch that. I don’t think I can trust you to stand up in there. Run yourself a bubblebath, and call me when you’re finished. Looks like ‘m gonna have to carry you out.”

You pouted adorably, nodding. He kissed your pursed lips, and lightly smacked your butt. “Get goin’, baby.”

It was a rare evening when Rafe decided that he was going to cook dinner for you. You knew he’d been working all day, and you hesitated to take a step back from cooking, but he insisted. He bragged about his quickly-improving skills, and you agreed, deciding to see if he could walk the walk.

You sat at the kitchen table, sipping on a glass of wine, and watched Rafe confidently maneuver around the stove. He looked delicious in that apron, his sleeves rolled up and thick muscles rippling. The focused look on his face was a sight as well. He was so effortlessly dominant all the time, something that gave you butterflies (and not just in your stomach).

It was all beyond impressive until Rafe looked over at you, drowning in your beauty. He grinned, but it fell instantly when he touched the heated pan. He pulled his hand back from he stove and shook it vigorously. “Ow, fuck!”

You rushed over, concerned. “What happened?”

Rafe grimaced as he inspected his finger. “I touched the pan by accident. It’s nothin’, just a minor burn.”

You inspected the red mark on his finger yourself, and sighed in relief when you realized it wasn’t too serious. “Come here, let me get some cold water on this.”

You tugged him over to the sink gently, and turned the tap on cold. Rafe winced as the soothing sensation washed over him. “You were right. I should not be handling shit in the kitchen.”

“Don’t say that, you were doing great. This stuff happens,” you assured him. “Besides, don’t you know who you’re talking to? How many times have you had to clean me up?”

He nodded, but he still looked disappointed.

“Baby,” you cooed, “it’s fine.”

You rose onto your tiptoes and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek. He smiled, and your heart warmed. But then, you let out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “It’s just nice not to be the clumsy one for once. My clumsy boy.”

RAFE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @wildflwrdarlin @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @jjsbank444 @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @countryclubkook @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @darleneslane @sya-skies @ellabellabus07 @emmalandry @madelynie @urbestieboo @cruzgrecia @l1lactheflower @rafegirly @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17 @obaex @abbybarnesstuff @mattyskies @lovelyxtom @camelliaflow3r @dirtytissuebox

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crying-wolves · 1 year ago

Text

🪻 ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴀᴛʀᴇ ᴇᴍᴘʟᴏʏᴇᴇ!ᴀʙʙʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ 🪻

cw: 18+ MDNI!!! little bit of richgirl!abby, anxious!abby, little bit of loser!abby but i’ll let you be the judge of that, alt!reader, reader w/ tattoos + piercings, reader doesn’t care about their job, abby and reader are, like, 18 - 20, mostly fluff, petty theft, minor drug use (abby and reader get a teensy bit high), nsfw under the cut!

a/n: this is ENTIRELY self-indulgent cause i work at the movies and i think i would've liked my job better if Abby was there with me :) thank u so much for reading i love u so much i hope u enjoy <3

wc: 1.3k (a lot longer than i was expecting pls forgive me)

not proofread! im so eepy

dividers by @cafekitsune !

🪻movie theater employee!abby whose family is, as she likes to put it, ‘relatively well off’, so she’s never had to get a summer job before…

…but when her father emails her an application from their local theater, going on and on and on about how she could manage to learn a thing or two about responsibility and time management and a hundred other things she’s apparently lacking in, she doesn’t see any other option but to piece together a meager resume and send it in.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a response back almost immediately, because they’re just that desperate for new hires.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who shows up to her interview the next week in pressed black dress slacks and a perfectly ironed blue button-up, only to be met with the hiring manager’s tattered black jeans and stained work shirt.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s nervous as fuck during the interview and thinks that she’s taking too long to answer simple questions and tripping over her words, but the manager hires her on the spot, in like, 10 minutes.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who calls her dad on the ride back home to tell him the good news, is met with balloons that say ‘congrats!’ in big sparkly letters on the front and her favorite take-out when she steps through the front door.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who arrives on her first day on the job 20 minutes early. Spotless, bustling with excitement, and so, so unprepared to deal with all that’ll happen in the day.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who is introduced to you, after you arrive 10 minutes late, fruity energy drink in hand and sunglasses still hanging on the tip of your nose as your new trainee.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who initially thinks she’ll evaporate in the stuffy heat behind the concessions counter, suddenly feels an icy-cool wave move through her body when you shoot her a lopsided smile.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who can hardly hear a word you say as you explain what all the buttons on the register screen do…

…‘cause she’s too focused on the way your work pants cling to your thighs and flare out at the bottom. on the pretty tattoos sneaking up and down your right arm. on the shiny lip ring that a part of her strangely wants to lick at–

🪻movie theater employee!abby who squeaks out a “yep, yeah! uh, got it!” when you ask her if she has any questions.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who definitely does not got it. Not one fuckin’ bit.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who fucks up a whole lot, at first, and manages to oversalt a batch of popcorn, stock too much of the same candy, overcharge 3 separate customers, spill a strawberry soda all over the counter, get scolded by 2 old men, and burn herself on the hotdog grill.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who smells like butter and exhaustion by the end of her 4 hour shift, but brightens up when you tap a star-shaped sticker onto her shirt and mumble out an amused “see you tomorrow, trainee.”

🪻movie theater employee!abby who realizes she has to do this all tomorrow again and lets out a shaky sigh on the way back to her car

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s slowly getting the hang of it after a few weeks at the theater…

…getting compliments from customers, multitasking between different orders, knowing the back room as well as she does the flavors of the drinks you silently sip during your shifts.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s a little enthralled by you, even if you don’t really notice it.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s too afraid to ask for your number, so scours instagram for your contact instead.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who throws her phone across her bedroom when you finally follow her back one night.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who super smoothly asks you when you’re working so she can try to arrive at her shifts when you go on break.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who freezes up when you invite her over to the park bench in front of the theater and offer her some cajun fries and a hit from your cart.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who takes you up on both offers, because she’s starving and she wants you to think she’s cool.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who takes a bigger hit than you were expecting and is a little confused when you giggle at her sudden coughing.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who spends the next 7 hours of her shift trying to act normal, but sees you trying not to bust out laughing in the corner of her eye every few minutes.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a lot closer to you after that…

…who watches you undercharge a frazzled mother on her kid’s birthday, and doesn’t say anything to the supervisor. who sees you swipe a few chocolate bars from the candy cart to give to a group of kids in the arcade. who is certain of your favorite slushie flavor because your lips are always some different color everytime you come back from your too-long bathroom breaks.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who argues about which book-to-movie adaptation is the absolute best when the day’s going by slowly.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who sneaks into different showrooms where the movie has already been playing for a while with you so you guys can guess what’s happened in the plot before.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who hides with you in the stockroom to take a break from the yelling customers and screaming kids every once in a while.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who traces the outlines of your tattoos, all heart-eyed while she’s listening to you talk about the new superhero movie that just came out a week ago.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who places a hand at the small of your back when she has to squeeze by you to grab a bucket of popcorn for a customer.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a little green with jealousy when a customer compliments your piercings or makes a joke that really isn’t that funny to begin with, but you laugh anyways cause you’re required to be cordial with them.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s so stupidly thrilled when you kiss her after a rough closing shift and can hardly breath when she climbs into her car to drive herself home.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who is so very happy that her dad convinced her to get this stupid job in the first place.

SMUT UNDER THE CUT ! 18+ MDNI!

🪻movie theater employee!abby who lets you eat her out in the tiny bathroom stall in the women’s room on nights when the theater is dead…

…your left hand squeezing at her tits, your right stretching her left leg over your shoulder. She looks down at you, panting, shuddering, trying and failing to conceal the little huffs and content sighs that fall from her lips every time your tongue swipes against a particularly sensitive spot.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who makes out with you in the backseat of her car when your breaks coincide, and whines in pleasure as you grind your clothed cunt against her covered thigh.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who can feel her hand start to shake and her throat go dry as she scurries to the back when you call her from your bedroom, voice all pitched-up and needy, while on your day off. Words strained and quickening wet sounds coming from your background.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who almost gasps when you two are the only ones working the concessions counter and she feels your hand slide from her lower back to squeeze her ass.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s obsessed with the way you watch her expressions as you slowly finger her in the empty break room.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who hates that she won’t see you until next summer, but has a million different secret pictures and texts from you that she has saved in a locked file on her phone to get her through the year <3

#abby anderson tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fluff #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson fic #abby anderson headcanons

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mooodyblue · 5 months ago

Note

hello Angel! I’m not sure if you remember me or not but I used to be Prayerstopresley on here a good while ago!! : D I was wondering if you could write a cutesy little one shot with BDE and a pregnant reader who is struggling to paint her toenails so he decides to do it for her? I just thought it would be a cute idea!! Thank you!!

wc: 804

pairing: pregnant!reader x 70s!elvis

warnings: none

a/n: oh my goodness i do absolutely remember you!!! i always wondered where you had went!! happy to see you back omg!!!!!! this was such a cute lil request, thank you! <3

masterlist directory

elvis was incredibly protective of you while you were pregnant. the moment you came back from the doctor and told him about that little baby in your belly he swore to you he’d never let a single person put a hand on you. no going out, no going to his shows, you were to stay inside of graceland until that child was born.

oh, but you begged and begged and begged. he took you out occasionally—he had someone drive you to your appointments.

he finished up another long run at the international which called for a couple of weeks in hawaii. you were 28 weeks, truly feeling the real aches and annoyances of being pregnant. elvis thought you were the cutest little thing ever. he gave your bump gentle kisses every day that he was home, sometimes sang or pressed his ear against it. but now he had a bit of a break, finally getting some time with just you and his unborn child.

you had to buy new clothes for the trip—nothing was fitting you at this point. elvis was more than happy to buy you a whole new wardrobe, which you thought was a bit excessive, but you could never stop elvis from doing anything no matter how much you tried.

you were packed, ready to leave the next day. however, you were in desperate need of a pedicure. the fingernails were already done, looking pretty as ever. toenails? horrendous. you couldn't even see them. did you even have toes anymore? so, you decided to take matters into your own hand and work on them yourself.

an array of nail products sat on your vanity. it was too dangerous to attempt on the bed or downstairs, the last thing you wanted to do was get red nail polish on the white carpet.

a sigh left your lips as you propped your foot against the vanity with a grunt, opening the tiny bottle of red nail polish. you tapped off the access liquid and reached forward, trying to reach one of your toes—failing miserably. you grumbled under your breath, trying to do it again. “new position.” you mumbled, standing up instead and propping your foot on the chair. you bent down the best you could….but it just wasn’t working.

position after position, nothing worked and you wanted to give up. a bundle of frustration finally hit you. you sat on the edge of the bed, sniffling and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand as you looked at the unpainted toes. you felt so disgusted with yourself.

“baby, i was thinkin—” elvis spoke, wandering into the bedroom. the teary eyes and sad look on your face stopped his thoughts, looking at you worriedly. “what’s goin’ on? is it the baby? did something happen?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

you shook your head, gesturing to your feet. “‘m too big.” you mumbled again, “can’t paint my toes.”

then, elvis laughed.

you frowned at him, feeling more tears begin to pool once again. elvis got himself together and shook his head, “baby…baby, i’m sorry. it–it ain’t funny, i know.” he said, walking over to you and getting on his knees. he placed a hand on one of your knees, “i know you’re hurtin’. you’re doin’ one hell of a job, mama. lemme do it.”

“you’ve never painted nails before.” you sniffled, “just leave ‘em be.”

“nuh-uh.” he picked up the bottle of nail polish and scootched himself to your feet. “if we’re havin’ ourselves a baby girl, i gotta learn one day, don’t i?” he asked with a grin.

that sentence alone made you chuckle, feeling your mood begin to brighten up. “please don’t mess ‘em up.” you begged.

he chuckled and propped a foot up against his knee, getting to work. “c’mon, satnin. have some faith in ol’ elvis, would ya?”

occasionally he’d rub at your ankles or calves if you got a cramp from being in the same position for too long. they chatted about names and all baby things as he painted her toenails, making sure to be extra careful not to get any polish on the sides. you loved how his brows furrowed when he was super focused on the task at hand.

once he finished up, he looked proudly at your toes with a grin. “look at those lil’ sooties.” he said, “tell me i did a good job, honey. don’t they look nice?”

you sat up a bit to get a look at them from the angle you were in, taken back by how good of a job he did. “wow.’ you admired them a bit more, nodding approvingly. “might have to ask for your help more often.”

he smiled and leaned forward to peck at your bump and at your lips, “anything for my babies.”

#elvis x reader #had to post something since its my anniversaryyyyyy #this was super cute too omg #also sry no banner im on desktop tumblr and lazy

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clarisse0o · 4 months ago

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 62

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5K

Masterlist

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Friday, February 26; 9:00 AM - Zoo.

"Come on, hurry up," my brother urges next to the car.

"Joan," I tease. "Stop it, please, and stay here."

"If you don't listen, we'll turn back," Lucy scolds him.

That threat earns a grumpy response from my brother. He turns his back on us, crossing his arms. I smile, keeping an eye on him in case he seriously considers walking away. Meanwhile, Lucy grabs our backpack, which we prepared last night while Joan was already asleep. Since we couldn't go yesterday, we rescheduled the zoo for today. Joan was over the moon once he figured it out. We didn’t talk about it at all yesterday. We were too busy. We ended up at a small fair with our friends after visiting the local market. My brother had completely forgotten about the zoo because of that, and in the evening, when he asked, we pretended we weren't going anymore to surprise him. It worked quite well. He's very excited now. I hope today will be better than the fair. We came home late, in the late afternoon. We offered to have our friends stay for the evening, but they politely declined, likely feeling awkward about being invited again. Perhaps it was for the best. Joan was so exhausted that he fell asleep right after dinner. We managed to get him to sleep in the guest room thanks to that. Sure, he woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and squeezed in between us, but we couldn't hold it against him. At least we almost got an entire night to ourselves. Joan sulked all morning, but it seems like his bad mood has vanished. Now he’s beaming with anticipation.

"Alright, we’re good to go," Lucy announces, shutting the trunk.

Joan spins around excitedly at the news. His smile brightens, and he looks at me, waiting for my go-ahead.

"Go ahead, but stay in front of us, okay? I don't want to lose you in the crowd."

He nods and takes the lead. I smile, following him with my hand in Lucy's. Lucy sighs softly, probably relieved that we’ve finally arrived. Joan was unbearable the whole ride. I've seen him impatient before, but never like this. It felt like he was deliberately trying to annoy Lucy, and he succeeded. I had to keep him entertained, or else Lucy would have lost her mind.

"I hope today goes smoothly," she says.

"There’s no reason it shouldn’t. Though, there are more people here than I expected," I remark. "I didn't think it’d be this busy."

"It's Friday, the last day of school vacation before the weekend. Of course, it’s packed," Lucy replies. "At least the weather is warming up a bit. It’ll be more pleasant."

I nod. It’s still a bit chilly, but unlike what one of Lucy’s neighbors told us earlier this week, the icy wind has finally died down. The snow has also melted, and in a few weeks, the temperature should finally rise. I can’t wait for that. In Barcelona, we rarely experience bad weather, if ever. It’s the complete opposite here. It’ll be tough at first, but I think I can get used to it. There are perks to the snow and cold. First, you can have fun in different ways, and with the cold, you get way more cuddles. Not that we don’t cuddle in Barcelona, but it’s much more enjoyable here, under a blanket. We reach the ticket booths. We wait a bit before it’s our turn. I handle the tickets, not giving Lucy a chance to argue. It’s about time she lets me contribute financially, even though I’m not working yet.

"I could have paid," she says once we pass the security gates.

"No," I reply cheerfully.

"Yes."

"No, and that’s the end of it. Today, it’s on me."

She rolls her eyes with a small smile before Joan reminds us of his presence by tugging on my jacket sleeve.

"Come on, Ona! We need to keep moving!"

"The animals aren’t going anywhere, you know," I say with a small laugh. "Come on, give me your hand. There are a lot of people here."

"I'm not a little kid anymore," she complains.

"That’s not the point. I just said there’s a crowd, and I don’t want to lose you."

I accompany my words with a stern look. He’s been arguing nonstop since we got here, and I’m starting to lose patience. He sighs and eventually gives me his hand. In the meantime, I turn toward Lucy, but I notice she’s no longer beside me. A brief moment of panic sets in until I spot her at a nearby map stand. I sigh in relief before dragging us over to her.

"Hey, if I tell Joan to give me his hand so I don’t lose him, it’s not an excuse for you to run off."

She laughs softly, leaning her head toward me.

"Sorry. I saw the maps and thought they might be useful."

"Haven’t you done the zoo before?" I ask, surprised.

"No. It’s a first for both of us," she says with a little smile.

I return her smile. She finally takes a map and stops when she sees my hand extended toward her. She laughs but takes it without protest.

"Alright, let’s go."

"What should we start with?" Joan asks, looking around with excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"Well, let’s check the map."

As I speak, Lucy unfolds the map. Everything is super organized. They’ve laid it out by zones based on the animals’ origins. My attention lingers on the penguins. Knowing Joan, that’s what he’ll enjoy the most.

"I’d save that for last," I say, pointing to that part of the map.

"Okay, well, let’s start here then," she points to the opposite direction.

"Should we join a tour group?" I ask, noticing one gathering beside us with a guide.

"No, that’s boring," my brother groans.

"Looks like you’ve got your answer," Lucy says.

"Alright, alright," I reply with amusement. "Just us, then."

"Can we start with the lions?" he asks.

"That’s actually over that way. Let’s go."

We move forward through the crowd to start with the African animals. Joan might be excited, but so am I. I love these kinds of outings, just the three of us. I also love animals. We linger at some exhibits and pass by others more quickly. It’s our first time here, but the layout is really well done. I’m sure we’ll come back, just Lucy and me. The zoo is organized like small villages at various points along the path. They’re often animated by staff, and they even offer activities in certain spots. We managed to get Joan to participate in one of them. He didn’t really want to at first, but in the end, he seemed to enjoy it. Then, we had the chance to feed the zebras. We were lucky to arrive at the right time. That was definitely Joan’s favorite part. Of course, the activity was supervised by staff, but they weren’t obligated to involve the visitors. The African section ends with the lions, which he kept talking about the entire time, even after all the things he got to do. I mentally note that my brother is becoming more and more spoiled and that I need to talk to our mom about it. I’m not the one responsible for his upbringing, but it’d be good for her to keep an eye on this not-so-pleasant change.

"What’s the next section?" I take advantage of my brother’s distraction to ask Lucy.

"The Asian animals. Then the Australian ones. But I think it’d be a good idea to grab lunch before that since we’ll be near a restaurant."

"Okay, that works for me," I reply with a smile.

We’ve been walking for two hours now, so that sounds like a good idea. By the time we finish the next section, I imagine we’ll be ready for lunch just before noon. It seems less busy than the one we just completed, according to the map. That’s good news, considering the crowd around us. Lucy was right earlier. The weather is mild, and it’s the end of vacation, so people are making the most of it. We’ll have to consider these factors next time if we want a more peaceful visit. Lucy kisses me and then wraps her arm around my shoulders. I keep an eye on my brother, who’s been ahead of us for a while now. He’s captivated by the lions. He’s holding onto the railing, looking down as if he never wants to leave this spot. Unfortunately, I have to burst his bubble if we want to see everything.

"Come on, Jo, let’s go."

"A little longer, please," she pleads, pouting.

"No, we’re moving on," Lucy jumps in. "Otherwise, you won’t be able to see everything. There are other animals like leopards and jaguars."

"Tigers too?" she asks excitedly.

"Of course. We’re getting to them soon, but we need to keep moving. »

Finally, without further resistance, he complied. He walked ahead of us. From the start, he had been negotiating to stop holding my hand. It must have been torture for her to see the other children running around while he couldn't. I agreed on the condition that he stayed in front, didn't run, and didn't stray too far. I also didn’t want to spend my day holding his back. So far, he had respected my terms, which was a first since this morning. Lucy had gotten so fed up with his behavior in certain situations that she left him to me to handle. She was probably right. I had noticed that the more Lucy got involved, the worse his behavior became. I imagine it will take some time for him to adjust to having someone else in my life. After all, he had never really seen me with anyone before. When I was with Mapi, he was too young to remember, which was for the best. He would probably have made a fuss about us no longer being together, given how much he adores my best friend.

With these thoughts in mind, we continued along, taking our time to observe everything. The scenery was beautiful, a peaceful place where you almost forget the disrespectful kids shouting everywhere. Almost. Lucy might complain, but at least we didn't have to deal with that with my brother. As someone who dislikes drawing attention, I appreciated this.

Finally, it was time to eat. As planned, we arrived just before noon. There was a bit of a wait, but not as bad as it could have been.

“I’m not hungry,” my brother mumbled. “Do we have to stop?”

“Yes,” I replied. “You’re not alone, and knowing you, you'll be hungry as soon as we leave.”

“But there’s still so much to see!”

“And we’ll have time to see it all.”

“But—"

“Joan, that’s enough,” my girlfriend interjected with a stern look. “My threat from this morning still stands.”

“Oh, stop. He’s been good all morning.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow at me, and I pressed my lips together. Last night, she’d told me it would be a good idea to support her when she said something to Joan, to avoid making her look like the bad guy. Admittedly, apart from a few grumpy remarks, which I had managed so far, Joan had behaved well this morning. My girlfriend sighed softly and turned back to Joan.

“We’re eating now. If you’re not hungry, you don’t have to eat, but don’t complain later.”

In response, my brother groaned, crossing his arms and puffing out his cheeks. It seemed like his favorite thing to do since he arrived, and it was pretty funny to watch.

“Come on, move along,” I guided him with a hand on his head as we advanced in line.

“But I’m really not hungry,” he insisted, looking up at me. “My stomach hurts,” he added, rubbing his belly.

“Really?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, eyes filling with tears. I sighed and glanced at Lucy, who shrugged. I knew she was aware, just like me, that this was probably a lie.

“Well, I suppose you can take some medicine beforehand. We brought those dissolvable sachets, just in case.”

In reality, we only had tablets. I would have crushed one if she truly needed it, as he can’t swallow them whole. It’s not like I don’t know how to do that. I also knew he hated it, which was clear when he grimaced at the idea.

“No!” he whined.

“Well, what? You’re feeling unwell, aren’t you?”

“I-I think I feel better now.”

A small laugh escaped me. I shook my head. So the negotiations were working after all. Lucy wasn’t wrong to have me handle this. It seemed effective. We finally reached the buffet, which reminded me a lot of a school cafeteria. I grabbed a tray for Joan and myself, while Lucy took care of hers. We helped ourselves to the food. Lucy and I got chicken cutlets with fries and a green salad, while Joan chose spaghetti Bolognese. For dessert, we picked cookies. I think I also slipped a few snacks into the bag in case we got hungry later. We finished with drinks—iced tea for Joan and me, and water for Lucy. Once everything was ready, I paid, and we found a table. The place was somewhat crowded but not so much that we had to wait for a table to free up.

The meal passed peacefully, with Joan chattering nonstop. It was the first time he’d talked so much, so we let him. He had just started his first year of primary school, and since I no longer lived at home, the change was pretty drastic. Not just in personality, but intellectually as well. This morning, he had fun reading all the signs to me, showing that he could read now.

“And then Paul got a new dog. It’s so cute! I wanted to go to his house to see it, but Mom wouldn’t let me.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded with her mouth full. “I wanted to have a sleepover, but we already had plans that day.”

“I see,” I chuckled. “Maybe next time.”

“When are you guys going to get a dog?”

Lucy, who had been silent until now, nearly choked. I stifled a laugh. That question caught me off guard too. I’d forgotten how unfiltered Joan could be. If anything, he talks more now than before.

“Why do you think we’d get a dog?” I asked, once I composed myself.

“Well, I already asked Mom, but she said no. So now I’m asking you guys. It’d be great! I could take care of it when I visit.”

This time, I laughed out loud. It wasn’t like he would be spending half the year with us. Besides, knowing him, even if we had a dog, he wouldn’t actually take care of it when he was here.

“We’re not getting a dog, Jo, I’m sorry.”

“But why?” she pouted.

“Well, we’re hardly ever home right now. It just wouldn’t work.”

"Home." The word slipped out before I realized it. It didn’t seem to bother Lucy, though, as she kept watching us with a faint smile. I cleared my throat and continued, giving a more realistic explanation that Joan could understand.

“Don’t you think a dog would be miserable, locked up in an apartment all alone? And dogs require care, which we wouldn’t be around to give since we don’t live in the apartment during the week.”

“Or on weekends when you don’t have leave,” Lucy teased, continuing to eat as if nothing happened.

I stuck my tongue out at her in response. She had said that on purpose. The worst part was that she was the one who enforced this “punishment.” It was funny, though, and I appreciated that she still saw me as the person I was before we got together. It meant she hadn’t labeled our relationship or changed how she viewed me. Now that I think about it, our behavior toward each other hadn’t changed either. Joan’s voice brought my attention back to her.

“But yeah, not now, duh! You could get a dog once you’ve finished school and have a house. You said you love Lucy, so that’s what will happen, right? You could have a dog then, and you wouldn’t even need a baby!”

Lucy burst into laughter—literally. Meanwhile, I died of embarrassment, hiding my flushed face behind my hands. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to say that in front of my girlfriend. I could feel Lucy’s eyes on me from across the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I forced myself to, though, and saw her smiling at me with amusement, clearly expecting me to respond.

“You’re really talking nonsense. We don’t know yet. And who says we won’t have a baby, huh?”

“Well, I’m already here. You don’t need one. And besides, you can’t have one anyway. I’ll just move in with you.”

Once again, Lucy snickered softly. Joan, who seemed very sure of what he was saying, pouted and crossed his arms. I bit my lip to hold back my amusement. He was definitely giving me plenty of stories to remind him of later.

“All that, huh?” I asked.

“Isn’t it a good idea?”

He was sulking. I recognized the tone in his voice when he did that.

“Where did you get all these ideas, huh?”

“Well, my friends say two girls together can’t have a baby.”

I ran a hand through my hair. He must have talked to them about me. I knew he often mentioned me to them, so it wasn’t impossible. Poor thing must have a lot of questions if he’s already discussing this with his friends—or anyone else, for that matter. It must be tough for him to understand everything at his age. I couldn’t wait for him to grow up, if only to understand this better.

“They’re right,” Lucy said. “But there are other ways.”

“That’s true,” I confirmed. “Like adoption, for example.”

I gave him the simplest version of the truth, something he could grasp. Lucy and I hadn’t had the chance to talk about it yet; it was way too early for that. But if I were to give my opinion, adoption wasn’t something I’d want to prioritize. Joan seemed to latch onto the idea instantly, and his reaction caught me off guard.

“Then you can adopt me!”

I rolled my eyes playfully and grabbed a napkin to wipe the tomato sauce covering his face. A few more seconds, and it would have dripped onto his clothes.

“And why would we adopt you, huh? You have a home with two parents. Adoption is for children who don’t have that, you know?”

I can see through his eyes that all the hopes he had thought so much about have evaporated. I don't like seeing that glimmer. I feel bad for him.

“So, you don't want me?”

“We didn’t say that,” Lucy responds. “You can come see us as often as you want, and we’ll visit you in Barcelona too.”

“But… I want to stay with you! You’re way too far from home, and Mom and Dad aren’t around much anyway.”

I give him a sad smile. I know what that’s like, unfortunately. I run my hand through his hair before pulling him into a hug. He lets himself go without any fuss.

“I know, sweetheart, but we can’t do any better. It’s not that we don’t want you, but you can’t just leave home like that. Besides, Lucy and I will probably have another busy year ahead. Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t take you in permanently.”

I think about the opportunity at the Art school for me and the opening of the gym for Lucy. This upcoming year will be just as busy and complicated as this one, if not more. I dread it as much as I’m excited to see what the future holds. I’m still waiting on a phone call, and I’m starting to worry that I haven’t heard back yet. Lucy says it’s normal, and I hope she’s right.

“Hmm… I would have preferred to live with you anyway,” he admits.

I don’t know what’s going on at home, but there’s clearly something wrong. I think I’ll call my mom when I get the chance. If Joan isn’t feeling comfortable there anymore, I need to know so I can get my mom to react. There’s no way I’ll let him go through what I went through. I know how that ends, and if we don’t find the right person to help, things can go very wrong.

“Alright,” Lucy interrupts. “We should finish up quickly if we still want to do everything.”

This news brings a small smile to my brother’s face before he quickly resumes where he left off before our conversation.

“Slow down, please. Otherwise, you’ll really get a stomach ache.”

He nods but doesn’t slow down, which makes Lucy and me laugh as we exchange a glance. She may not have said much at the table, but I know she heard everything. I’ll ask her what she thinks about it all when we’re alone. We finish dessert, then head off to explore another area. Even though Joan claimed he wasn’t hungry, he still ate well. The day goes on, and surprisingly, Joan has become calmer than before, which delights my girlfriend. It’s understandable. As much as he pushes her limits, it’s annoying to have to constantly put him back in his place when we’re supposed to be having a good time. He must have realized that his tantrums don’t work with us. Maybe I should call Sofia as well to see how she reacts to his. Unlike my mom, I don’t doubt Lucy knows how to manage him as I do. It’s just that my mom doesn’t have patience for this sort of thing, so it’s very hard for her to react calmly. She loses her temper rather than defuse the situation.

“Hey,” Lucy calls out after a while. “Stop worrying. It can’t be that bad.”

“I don’t know,” I admit with a small, anxious smile. “We’ll see. I’ll call my mom tonight. I need to know what’s going on.”

She nods understandingly before giving me a soft kiss. Unfortunately, it’s the moment Joan turns around. His new habit is to let out disgusted noises whenever he sees us. But it seems he didn’t hear the rest. We change the subject as we finish this park, which Joan seems particularly fond of. It’s true—it’s very well done. We’ll definitely come back.

Friday, February 26th; 9:00 PM – Lucy’s apartment.

We’re back home. Everything is peaceful. It was six o'clock when we got back. The day was good. We all enjoyed it, especially Joan, who has already showered, eaten, and even gone to bed. He fell asleep in the guest room without even protesting. In fact, he went there on his own with his new penguin plush. We managed to finish the park, and it seems I was right—Joan loved it, and I couldn’t resist buying him a plush when he asked for it. He earned it with how well he behaved in the afternoon. As for Lucy and me, I had just settled on the couch with Netflix on in the background. I had already showered, and Lucy should be joining me soon. I hadn’t heard the water running in the bathroom for about five minutes. Now that everything is calm, I wanted to call my mom. Joan’s behavior wasn’t normal. I knew he had behavioral issues, but now we needed to figure out why. Nothing ever happens for no reason. It seems like everyone’s already forgotten what happened with me. I’m not going to let them forget. Just as I was about to call, an unknown number appeared on my screen. I don’t recognize it, but it seems to be from here, from Manchester. I frown, intrigued by the late call. Could it be Feli? Would she really come here? How would she even know where I am? The thought makes my stomach knot. I inhale slowly, glancing behind me to check if Lucy is around. Not yet. She’s still in the bathroom. After the fifth ring, I force myself to pick up.

“Hello?” I answer cautiously, my voice uncertain.

“Miss Batlle?” a voice asks.

“Yes...?”

“Hello, this is Bennett Fields! I’m sorry to call so late. I lost track of time,” he says with a small laugh. “Am I disturbing you?”

Bennett Fields, Bennett Fields... Oh! He’s the gallery director. I immediately sit up straighter on the couch, as if he could see me from afar.

“No, no! I’m at home,” I tell him.

“Good.”

If he were in front of me, I’m sure I’d be able to see his smile. It’s amazing how you can read him so well.

“How are you?”

“Well, I’m pretty nervous now that you’re on the line,” I admit, which makes him chuckle. “And you?”

“I’m well, thank you. I apologize for not contacting you sooner. I had a rather busy week. I know I said I would get in touch with the person who sent me your drawings, but I preferred to speak with you directly.”

“No problem.”

In any case, I would’ve gotten the answer tonight since the other person is also in this apartment. I now understand why he asked for my number at the end of our meeting. He seems to like dealing with people directly, which is completely normal.

“I’m calling to follow up on our meeting.”

“I figured,” I reply with amusement.

I like the way we talk. I should be stressed, but he puts me at ease. His laugh is contagious.

“You impressed me a lot, Ona. Certainly not by your lack of experience, but by your undeniable talent.”

Blushing, I feel flattered to hear that from a professional.

“So, here’s the thing. I have a proposal for you. Of course, as we discussed, it would mean going back to school. Are you still okay with that?”

“Of course!”

We haven’t discussed next year much with Lucy yet, but we both kind of know what to expect.

“Good. However, the offer wouldn’t be for the Manchester gallery…”

“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling a bit worried.

“Well, here’s the thing. My gallery is expanding. I’m developing new locations in the region. I’m about to open one in Cardiff, and I’m putting together a team. I think you’d be a great fit there, under the direction of my new manager.”

Cardiff? The news leaves me speechless. What should I say to that? I definitely can’t accept such an offer on the spot. My lack of response prompts him to speak.

“I know it’s a big decision to think about. You’ve already traveled a lot, but this would be an excellent opportunity for you.”

“It definitely requires some thought…” I murmur.

“I didn’t expect an immediate answer. I’ll give you time to think it over. Just so you know, there’s also an Art school there, and the program can last two to three years, depending on the student’s choice.”

Two to three years? My vision blurs. There’s no way I’m staying away from Lucy for that long!

“If you’d like, we can schedule another meeting in two weeks. Do you think you could get some time off from school for a weekday meeting?”

“I-I’ll have to check.”

“Well, call me when you know. That way, we can set up a time to meet and talk face-to-face. Can we do that?”

“Yes, we can do that. I’ll call you then.”

“Great! Well, I wish you a good evening. Talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon, Mr. Fields.”

I hang up, completely overwhelmed by the conversation. Damn it! I think I’d have preferred if he’d just rejected me rather than making me face such a decision!

“Who was it?”

I jump, not having noticed Lucy’s presence. I turn toward her as she slowly approaches to sit beside me.

“Ona?” she calls gently. “Is everything alright?”

“I think we need to talk…”

Concern flashes across her eyes. Oh yes, she has reason to be worried. If she only knew how I’m feeling inside right now... I almost feel like crying.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #lionesses #woso soccer #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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talkfastromance4 · 2 years ago

Text

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face--Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

author's note: thank you for your patience! As promised, this one is longer! and again, the dress in the photo is just so you can see what it looks like.

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

word count: 8.6k

warnings: a brief interaction with police, break-in

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

Enjoy!

It’s a few weeks before the Navy ball and you’re at the flower shop putting together an arrangement for Betty. She’s at a rehab center after her surgery and so far she’s doing really well so you’re hoping she’ll be out soon enough. Jake has also been gone for a quick mission, he told you about it just before the fundraiser he helps sponsor at the pier.

You weren’t sure what to expect at the pier so you put on a pretty sundress that Jake couldn’t take his eyes off of. You definitely didn’t expect him to show up in his service khakis but when you saw the fundraiser was for foster children and their home you understood why because the kids hung onto him and asked him so many questions about flying the ‘big airplanes’.

The raised funds were to help add onto the house they live in and to hopefully build a new jungle gym. Some of the children were selling tickets and ran the booths with other adult volunteers. Jake stayed by your side the whole time introducing you to everyone while also speaking very highly of your flower shop which made your cheeks warm.

You snip some of the stems of the gladiolas you are working on smiling at the memory of that day and one little girl who kept running up to Jake–she had to be at least eight years old–showing him all the prizes she won.

As the sun was setting, the kids were leaving and that little girl came up one last time. You found out her name was Zara when Jake greeted her by squatting on the ground. She whispered something in his ear, he nodded then turned to you.

“Zara wants to give you something,” he smiled.

“Me?” you brightened and knelt down to her height. She hands you a plush flower with a smiley face in the center.

“Mister Jake says you make flowers.”

“He’s right, I do. Thank you so much, I love it,” you smiled at her. “And I know the perfect place to put it, right in my display case.”

Zara giggled then ran off towards the other kids at the bus and the director of the house they live in, a big smile on her face and you could have sworn she perked her chest up just the slightest.

“Thank you so much for today, Lieutenant. Your donation will definitely help us in building a new jungle gym.”

“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Dawes. Let me know if you need help with anything else. You’re doing an amazing job.”

She was clearly flustered then headed back to the kids. Jake faced you with his hand held out but you shook your head.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t charm people so easily like that.”

“Do I charm you?” he cocked his head to the side, his hand still extended. He wiggled his fingers clearly wanting you to hold his hand.

“I plead the fifth,” you sniffed but took his hand anyway.

“So,” Serena hops on the counter next to you, pulling you from your recollection of memory. “Where’s your boy toy? Haven’t seen him since he brought us breakfast a week ago.”

“He’s not my boytoy, but he should be home tonight. He had a mission to do.”

“Okay, boyfriend then.”

“He’s not that either,” you sigh tweaking the flowers a bit.

“Then what is he?”

You’re not sure what to say so you shrug.

“He takes you out, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He helps you with Betty,” she starts to tick off fingers, “he buys you and your employees breakfast, drives you around…if it looks like a boyfriend and quacks like a boyfriend–”

“That’s not how the saying goes,” you giggle then turn serious. “It’s not like that. It’s…complicated.”

“What’s complicated about it? You like him, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out ‘cause he’s down bad for you.”

You turn away with your arrangement to box it up and to also hide your smile at her comment. The door opens with the bell jingling above it and Reynolds comes in with a basket of your favorite snacks and sweet treats, a sign that Jake is on his way home.

“Lieutenant Seresin is on his way back from base but wanted you to have these to keep at the shop. I have to pick him up…will you be all right getting home?” Reynolds asks.

“I can take her Reynolds,” Serena says peering into the basket.

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely.

“If you need anything, give me or him a call. I’ll see you Monday Miss y/n. Miss Serena,” he smiles then leaves the shop.

“Jake’s a duck and Reynolds is a duckling,” Serena states taking a pear from the basket and taking a big bite.

Jake sent you a text that he’d be leaving base the same time you’d be leaving the flower shop and asked if you’d like to go to brunch the following morning. After locking up with Serena, she drove you home and the whole way there you have this weird feeling in your stomach.

When you get out of her car you hear a loud crash from inside your house and you freeze. There’s more scuffling and you scurry back inside already calling Jake.

“y/n? What’s going on?” Serena asks in alarm.

“Hey Sugar, I wasn’t expecting a–”

“Jake, someone’s in my house,” you whisper frantically. Serena gasps then pulls out her phone to call the police.

“Where are you? Are you inside?” Jake asks.

“No, I’m still in Serena’s car. She’s calling the police.” You’re surprised at how calm your voice sounds when inside your heart is about to burst out of your chest.

“Drive away from your house, I’m on my way. Stay in the car, y/n I’ll be there soon.”

You gulp when the line goes dead, he rarely calls you by your first name. Serena drives a block away but still in view of your home and you’re freaking out because what if whose inside comes out and runs towards her car? What if they have a weapon?

“It’s fine, the police are on their way,” Serena soothes, “I’m on with dispatch. Someone is five blocks away on another call and they’re coming here now.”

Two squad cars show up without their lights and get out of the car. You watch them walk right inside, your multiple locks were clearly busted. It’s like a lifetime goes by and then you see Jake’s truck turn the corner. Without thinking, you escape Serena’s car ignoring her hissing your name and run towards him.

He slams on his brakes, puts it in park then jumps out as soon as he opens the door catching you just as you leap into his arms.

“y/n, I told you to stay in Serena’s car,” he reprimands but hugs you tightly against him. One hand holds the back of your neck. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m scared,” you whisper shaking your head.

“It’s all right, I’m here and it looks like the cops are too. Have they come out and talked to you yet?”

“No, they’re still inside,” Serena says behind you.

“You can go home if you’d like, Serena,” Jake says, he continues rubbing the back of your neck.

“You sure?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay with Jake here,” you turn your head to look at her over his bicep. “Thanks for driving me.”

“You call me as soon as you’re done talking with them, okay?” she holds out her arms and you give her a tight hug.

“I will. Drive home safe, text me when you’re there.”

“Bye Jake, thanks for coming,” she says.

“Bye Serena,” he waves.

She gets back in her car then pulls away slowly. You fold your arms over your chest, feeling a breakdown coming but you can’t do that yet. Jake takes you in his arms again and you close your eyes focusing on his arms around you, his breath blowing on your hair and his heartbeat. It centers you and calms down your breathing, but sadly, your heart is still racing in fear.

The police finally came out to say the perp got out the back door and the coast was clear to head inside. They followed you around jotting down things that were missing; your small flat screen was taken, some clothes and the record player you saved up for was also gone. Your records were still there but some were smashed on the ground and your kitchen was a mess.

“They were probably looking for diamonds or other expensive jewelry,” one of the officers said. “People tend to hide them in their flour.”

“I don’t have any kind of jewelry expensive enough to be stolen,” you shake your head then gasp and run to your bedroom.

“y/n! Wait for us!” Jake calls after you and you look through your clothes again. The dress from Madam Floquet is gone.

“Oh no!” you groan and start to toss hangers with clothes on them behind you. It has to be here, it just has to be.

“Sugar, what’re you–hey, slow down!” Jake’s arms wrap around you, fingers latching around your wrists like a vice until you stop your frantic pillaging. “What are you looking for?”

“My dress! The one you got me, it’s gone! They took that too!”

The clothes in your hand fall to the floor and you bury your face in your hands, Jake’s arms circling around you even tighter.

“No, they didn’t,” he says softly in your ear, “I had Reynolds bring it to my house just for safekeeping.”

“It is?”

“Yes, it wasn’t stolen. Was there anything else missing from your room?”

“I don’t think so,” you whisper.

“Miss, could you write down your statement?”

Jake sat with you at the kitchen table while you wrote down the incident with a shaky hand. When the officers left, you stared around your small house now in a disarray and your door hanging from its hinges. Thinking of other possibilities that could have happened if you were here sent a shiver down your spine but makes you come to a decision.

You look at Jake, his green eyes alert even with the dark circles under his eyes again. Why does it seem like he never sleeps? Before you could catch it, a tear rolled down your cheek.

“What?” he asks, swiping it away with his thumb.

“Okay… I’ll move in with you.”

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure. This…was an eye opener. What if it happens again while I’m sleeping? You’re right, it’s not safe here but I can’t afford anywhere else. And you are closer to where Betty is.”

“Thank you,” he sighs taking both of your hands in his. “I’m so sorry this happened, Sugar. I’ll get you a new record player–the same one. And don’t worry about packing or anything like that, I’ll take care of everything.”

He brings your hands up, kissing the knuckles, and for the first time since meeting him, you fully trust that he will take care of everything.

And he did. Within twenty minutes after the break-in, he had movers at your place and they began packing up all your belongings. You watched and listened while he instructed where certain things would go in his house. Reynolds was also there to help but he mainly stayed by you to keep you company while Jake orchestrated the moving process.

When all was said and done, he leaned against your broken door frame watching you as you walked through your now empty house. This was your first big purchase as an adult, as a way of freedom of living on your own. You chose the color of the walls, the decorations in the bathroom and now it’s empty, barren.

Jake held out his hand as you circled back. Seeing his hand outstretched felt like a new beginning, a second chance and you were finally ready to accept his help so you took his hand and followed him out into the night. Although, it was nearing five o’clock in the morning.

Although you’ve been here before, he gave you another tour and you saw more Texas decor throughout the house. There were pictures of his family everywhere, he had two sisters who were married and a niece and nephew.

“I’d tell you about them but you look like you’re about to pass out on me, Sugar. Let’s get you to bed.”

You followed him up the stairs and into your room. The fake tree you remembered from last time had twinkly lights that were lit up and you saw your belongings from your old room in here.

“I made sure your clothes were placed in the closet and the dressers, you can rearrange them however you’d like. If you need anything at all, my room is at the very end of the hall.”

“Okay. Thank you, Jake, for everything,” you tell him.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep.”

The first official night after the break-in was hard. You tossed and turned because you felt like a stranger in his house and bed even though you’d slept in it before. Eventually, you did fall asleep and that was the first time you dreamt of Jake.

It was like a dream within a dream, it felt so familiar like it had happened before. Can you have deja vu in a dream?

In the dream, you were at a wedding with Serena sitting next to you and a song came on. Jake appeared in front of you wearing a dark gray suit.

“Did you request this?” dream you smiled at him as he held out his hand.

“Maybe,” he grinned then pulled you against him. You danced to the song feeling complete and whole and just right in his arms.

Then you woke up wondering what song you could have been dancing to that was deemed special for you and him? He left sweet notes for you in the morning before work with a fresh pot of coffee and a muffin that Rhea would make for you who you found out was his housekeeper. She’s a lovely woman in her mid-fifties and talked about Jake like he was her own son.

He still hasn’t talked about his family yet but maybe he’s waiting for you to ask on your own.

Since you moved in with him, he made sure he was done with work so he could pick you up from the flower shop and you could both see Betty together. With Jake being out of state again for a few days, Reynolds has taken up his position of driving you around again.

This is the first time you’re seeing Betty without Jake and you decide to open up to her about Jake and what your situation with him really is about. So you told her about him paying for her medical bills, moving in with him, the break-in. You didn’t tell her these things in the first place because you didn’t want to upset her in her condition but she took it in stride, she’s a very resilient woman.

��Well, Dolly, it seems like he really has feelings for you.”

“But why have me sign paperwork and pay for everything? I have such a hard time understanding.”

“Maybe he grew up seeing love like that. Does he come from a rich family?”

“I don’t know, I just found out he has two sisters and a niece and nephew. We’ve never really talked about his family yet.”

“All you can do is ask. It also might be a way to protect his own heart, and I know you keep yours locked and guarded in a high tower.”

“You really think he has feelings for me?”

“Honey, I haven’t seen anyone look at you the way he does since your grandpa looked at me.”

“Really?” You’re blown away because your grandpa looked at your grandma like she created the universe. “Tell me how you two met again.”

She explains how she first saw John at an ice cream shoppe with her mother. He was the handsomest man she ever saw in her life and she went back to that ice cream shoppe day after day until he finally bought her a cherry cola. They then went to the drive-in a lot, other diners and was told his family had lots of money.

That part wasn’t true but Betty didn’t care, they loved each other like crazy and were married within eight months of first meeting.

“Give Jake a chance, Dolly.”

“But what about–”

“Stop thinking and go with what you feel. Don’t think, do what your heart tells you. Promise me?”

“I promise.”

“When does he come home?”

“Tonight I think,” you sigh looking at your Apple watch. It was a ‘Welcome Home’ gift from him that was placed on your nightstand a few days after you moved in. You appreciated the discreet way he gave it and it did come in handy while you were at the shop working.

“And when is the Navy ball?”

“This Saturday. I’m so nervous, grandma. What if I make a fool of myself in front of his squad?”

“I’m sure you won’t, and I’m sure Jake will be by your side the whole time.”

She dozes off after that. You kiss her cheek and then go home. You hear splashing as you get out of the car in the driveway and you notice Jake’s truck is parked in the middle garage. Your heart leaps knowing he’s home.

“Have a good night, Reynolds,” you smile to him with the window rolled down. He winks then pulls out of the driveway and you head inside.

It’s dark in the house except for the underlights of the cabinets in the kitchen. The back door is slid open and you hear more splashing. You find Jake doing laps in the pool, his body aglow in the aquamarine lights. You watch him glide under the water fluidly for two laps, coming up halfway each time to catch a breath then descending into the water again.

You kick off your shoes, stepping carefully to one end of the pool while he’s at the other and wait until he comes to the halfway mark for air.

“Welcome home,” you call as soon as his head pops up. His eyes open and he smiles widely at you.

He swims to you quickly then stops in front of your legs that you’re lightly kicking in the water. He grabs hold of your moving ankles rubbing the inside of them with his thumbs.

“You’ve no idea how much I like hearing you say that, Sugar,” he pants, catching his breath from the swim.

“Feels like home when you’re here. When did you get back?”

“A couple hours ago,” his fingers tickle up and down your calves now. It gives you goosebumps. “Were you with Betty?”

“Mhm.”

The tickling of his fingers feels nice and it’s taking all your concentration to focus on your breathing.

“How is she?”

“Good. Still in pain and tired. She says hello.”

“I’ll come with you when you go see her again.”

“She’ll like that. How come you’re swimming?”

“It helps clear my head,” he lowers his head into the water and blows bubbles. “You can join me if you want. Birthday suits are highly recommended.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Yeah?” you laugh then scratch your nose. “I don’t think so.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying. Do you want a pedicure?”

“Are you offering?”

“To pay, yes,” he nods, then tickles your toes.

“Jake! That tickles!” you shriek, jerking your legs but he keeps tickling. The quick movements of your legs makes water splash on your shorts and shirt then you’re both laughing.

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” he chortles. He stops tickling but keeps his grip on your ankles, his thumbs returning to the soft circles between your feet and along the arch.

He cocks his head to the side gazing up at you. Whenever he cocks his head that means trouble.

“Do you make those sounds just when you’re being tickled or from…other activities?”

“Other activities?” it’s your turn to cock your head.

“Nevermind, Sugar,” he shakes his head, lips quivering into a smirk. Then he rests his chin on your knee. “You’re just tempting me, that’s all.”

“Tempting you? How? I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s the worst part. You don’t even realize…I can only imagine what it’d be like if you were actively trying to tempt me. I’m already a goner.”

He’s staring at you with those hypnotic green eyes, he rolls his head so his cheek is pressed to your kneecap. His breath is warm on your skin and his hands continue to dance up and down your legs, going higher and slower each time.

“I know what you mean.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could even think to stop. You clap your hand over your lips hoping he didn’t hear it but of course he did because now he’s smirking.

“Yeah? Are you saying I tempt you, Sugar?”

“I’m saying…I…” you suck in a gasp when he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. His eyes still laser focused on you as he did so. “I-I understand what you mean.”

“That’s all?” he moves to your left knee, kissing you there as well. “Is this okay?”

His hands are on your calves and he pulls your legs apart a bit. You nod at his question. So with his lips still pressed to your knee, he gives small kisses around the circumference. They feel like little fish kisses, small pulses of his lips on your skin. He does the same thing to your right knee then he’s pulling himself out from the water to his full height.

Water droplets cascade down his body, your eyes follow one that rolls down his cheek and jawline onto his neck then over his chest and toned stomach before disappearing into the waistband of his swim trunks. You gulp, this is the first time you’ve seen him shirtless and what a sight it is. He’s standing between your opened legs and you feel his hip bones, your toes grazing against his calves under the water. This is the closest skin on skin contact you’ve had with him ever.

“Give me the word, Sugar,” his voice pulls your gaze back up to his eyes. He steps closer, crowding your space with his arms. His fingers slide up your thighs then rests his palms on the concrete beside you. “And I’m all yours.”

His pelvis is pressed against yours now, you can feel the coolness of the pool water but also the warmth radiating from his body and your head is spinning. Being this close to him is making your clothes wet and you clench your thighs.

“I…”

“Remember what I said at our first dinner together? How I said I could have pleasured you in your pretty flower shop?”

All you can do is nod because of course you remember it.

“Good. I gotta get out now, though. I’m all pruny, see?” he holds his hand up between you, his fingertips grazing the side of your breast as he does so.

You don’t even have time to look down and see because he’s backing away. A braver version of you would yank him back between your legs and kiss him, asking–no–begging him to show you exactly what he meant about pleasuring you. But you’re not at that brave version yet so you watch him walk through the water and use the steps to get out.

You have a nice few of his back muscles flexing as he runs his fingers through his wet hair. Your stomach flutters and you’re wondering how he could be so damn attractive. Jake pads across the concrete until he’s in front of you, his hand held out. You take it, feeling the water run down your arm as he helps you stand up.

“Want to watch a movie and order takeout?”

Will you be home for dinner tonight?” Jake asks Friday morning while you’re gathering your coffee and muffin. He’s sitting at the island with his tablet reading the news.

“Probably not. I’ve still got a bunch to do for this wedding tomorrow,” you sigh. Rhea hands you our lunch bag. “Thanks Rhea.”

“I added another muffin for dessert,” she smiles then picks up her cleaning supplies and heads into the dining room.

“You’ve been coming home late every night, last night I didn’t hear you until almost one a.m….” he frowns and crosses his arms.

“Yeah, it’s a big order. Me and Serena are working around the clock with Dom and Brynne helping out when they can. They’ve been working on a funeral arrangement.”

“Do you have to set it up for the wedding tomorrow?”

“Nope, they’ll take care of it. They know I’ve got the Navy ball with you tomorrow,” you smile then try to stifle a yawn but it escapes. You feel even more tired when the yawn finishes.

He stands up from his side of the island moving in front of you, bending a little to peer at your face more closely. His palms cup your cheeks as his thumbs brush under your eyes.

“How much sleep have you gotten?”

“I dunno,” you shrug and try to suppress another yawn. “Maybe five hours?”

“Five hours all week?”

“No, five hours last night. My mind kept me up on what I all needed to finish today.”

“You need your sleep, Sugar,” his fingers thread in your hair massaging the base of your neck. You let out a contented sigh.

“I’ll get it when the wedding’s done and Betty’s out of rehab. I told her we’d see her tomorrow before the ball, she wants to see my dress.”

“I’ll make sure we head there first before we go to the party,” he smiles and continues massaging your neck. “I set up a mani pedi for you tomorrow at eleven. Would you like me to call someone to do hair and makeup for you or would you like to do that yourself?”

“You have a hair and makeup person?” you tease but you’re feeling so relaxed with his neck massage.

“Yes, I do,” he smiles.

“Sure, that could be fun. Then I know I won’t look like a clown.”

“You never look like a clown. Promise me you’ll take an hour lunch today?”

“I’ll try.”

“You drive me crazy,” he sighs and removes his fingers from your neck.

“You do give good massages,” you turn your neck from side to side.

“That wasn’t even the full experience, darlin’. Have a good day at work.”

At midnight, you heard rumbling outside and then seconds later rain was downpouring on the windows. You sigh as you mark down on your clipboard a final count of the centerpieces in the fridge. You sent Reynolds home hours ago telling him you’d catch the bus promising you wouldn’t be too late. You broke that promise but you wanted to make sure the wedding arrangements were perfect because it was a shotgun wedding and the couple was desperate.

They insisted on paying double for the short notice and thankfully their request wasn’t anything too crazy. Lots of roses and lilies with pearls added throughout. Serena called it at eleven and you let Brynne and Dom go home early since they’ll be up early to set up for the wedding.

Being alone in the shop was your favorite because then you could crank your music up to as loud as you wanted without disturbing anyone.

Your watch started to vibrate and when you looked to see who was calling, an instant smile appeared because it was Jake.

“You’re up late,” you answer when you pick up your phone.

“Because you’re not home. Are you almost done?”

“Almost, just have to finish cleaning things up and I’ll be home. But it started raining and I don’t want to walk in the rain to the bus stop…”

“No need for the bus stop.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you open the door? I’m getting soaked.”

Your mouth opens in confusion and you look to the front door where sure enough, Jake is standing there getting drenched by the onslaught of rain. You run to the front of the shop and unlock the door, Jake rushes in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Reynolds told me you sent him home and when I saw the forecast I didn’t want you walking in the rain at midnight. Especially after what happened at your house. And,” he holds up a wet to-go bag. “I brought you dinner.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to–I mean, thank you,” you smile taking the wet bag from him. “I have some towels in the back, I’ll go get them so you can dry off. Alexa, turn the volume down to three.”

You set the bag on your desk then open the door to the bathroom where you have fluffy towels. You wash your hands so much throughout the day you want to have a soft way to dry them off.

When you walk back out, Jake has lifted his hoodie off and because of the rain, it caused his t-shirt to cling to it. You got another great peek at his tanned and toned stomach, a happy trail disappearing into his jeans.

Pull yourself together, you scolded yourself.

“Here you go,” you hold out the towels to him. He uses it for his hair immediately, scrubbing at it fiercely. His hair is sticking up in all directions when he’s finished and you giggle.

“You finish cleaning up and I’ll put the spread out,” he says.

“Okay, the bag is on my desk in the back. There’s a mini fridge with soda and water.”

“I actually brought some wine. Thought you might like it after your busy week.”

“Wine sounds wonderful,” you smile.

He sidles past you behind the counter, your chests bumping and he pauses.

“Hi, by the way,” he says, green eyes glittering. He has a boyish grin and it makes him even cuter.

“Hi,” you giggle. “I have a comb in the bathroom if you’d like to fix your hair.”

“You don’t like my crazy hairstyle? I was thinking of wearing it like this tomorrow.”

“You’d turn heads for sure, but I like it like this.” You reach up to comb your fingers in his hair, pulling it down over his forehead. With his hair being wet it makes it more manageable to move it how you want it to. “There.”

“Thank you.”

His voice is sweet and his eyes are soft staring down at you. You’re caught in his green eyes, anticipating some kind of moment happening but then a loud crack of thunder jolts the moment away. He clears his throat then moves back into your office.

You’re humming along to Dean Martin as he sings From the Bottom of My Heart while you finish cleaning up. You sweep away fallen petals and thorns then start to dance a little with the broom when Frank Sinatra’s That’s Life starts to play. This is Betty’s playlist you play for her whenever she’s in the shop and when you spin around you slam into Jake’s body.

“Oh!”

“I’m a better partner than a broom.”

He takes the broom out of your hand bringing you into his arms in one quick sweep. His hand is warm on your lower back and then you’re dancing, following his footwork easily.

“What about the food?”

“The food can wait, let’s dance for a moment. Practice for tomorrow,” he smiles.

You dance around the small front of your shop, Dean Martin transitioning into Roberta Flack’s The First Time Ever I saw Your Face plays and you can’t help thinking what a magical moment this is.

Moments like this don’t happen to you; dancing with a handsome man while it’s raining outside to old music? You must be dreaming.

“I like this playlist,” he comments, spinning the two of you.

“It’s for Betty. This was my grandpa and her song. They would dance all the time and I always loved to watch them.”

“Did they ever dance in the shop like this?”

“All the time,” you smile, “there’s a picture of them dancing on my desk.”

“Sounds like they had a great love.”

“They did.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you had any great loves?”

“I thought I did but…it didn’t work out.”

“How come?”

“He found someone else, someone better.”

“I highly doubt that, there’s no one better than you.”

“You’re just saying that,” you shake your head.

“I’m not. You’re the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever known. You work your ass off with no recognition even though you deserve it and you always exude this…lightness. Like you have a shine of happiness radiating from you.”

You duck your head and stare at his dog tags hanging over his shirt.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Look down or away whenever I compliment you. One day I’m going to have you see yourself the way I see you.”

You don’t know what to say to that so you continue to stare at his dog tags, your eyes tracing the letters of his name.

“y/n.”

“Hmm?” you force yourself to shift your eyes up to look at him and he’s so close.

So close that you can see little freckles on his nose and speckles of yellow in his green eyes.

“Do you…” he swallows hard. “Do you want to–”

“Do I want to…what?” you ask slowly. His eyes are hypnotic and this is the moment where a kiss is supposed to happen.

Will it?

“Do you want to–” thunder cracks and you both jump –”um, do you want to go eat now?”

“Oh, uhh, yeah. I could eat.”

You stop dancing, grab the broom and move back to your office. You eat the takeout and ask him questions about what to expect at the ball. Even though a kiss didn’t happen, it was still a very good night.

It wasn’t until you were laying in your bed that you realized why he didn’t kiss you. He said the ball was in your court, you were in charge, and he was waiting for you to say the words.

Or, a little voice in your head whispers, is he waiting for you to sign the papers?

You woke up at eleven Saturday morning and found a note from Jake stating that Reynolds is waiting for you when you’re ready to get coffee and take you to your nail appointment. Next to the note was a peach begonia in a small vase with a couple inches of water. Another small note lays under the vase and read ‘found this on the floor in your shop. It made me think of you.--Jake’

You quickly got dressed in comfy clothes and found Reynolds waiting for you in the kitchen. You’re completely relaxed while your nails are getting done, the hand and foot massage really felt wonderful especially after being so busy on your feet at work.

When you get back to the house, a woman with red and orange hair plaited in a French braid is waiting in the kitchen. Tattoos are scattered on her arms in a random way but they look good in their placements and she has a septum piercing.

“You must be y/n. I’m Inez and I’ll be doing your hair and makeup!” she smiles.

When you get closer you see she has purple contacts in and she’s easily the coolest person you’ve ever met.

She gushes about your nails then has you sit down in her chair.

“Don’t worry about Jake taking a peek, I banned him for a few hours until it’s time to go. This is so exciting, I’ve never met any of his girlfriends before. And I like you, you have a good vibe about you.”

Your cheeks warm at the mention of being called his girlfriend but you don’t correct her. You don’t think she needs to know this is all part of an arrangement. You listen with intrigue as she fixes your hair in an elegant style about the many celebrities she’s met in her job. Who her favorites were and who she’d rather not work with again.

She wouldn’t let you look at yourself in the mirror until you had your dress on so she helped you put it on. As Inez did the buttons you suddenly got very nervous about going to the ball.

“How’re you feeling, toots?” she asks doing some adjustments to your hair.

“Nervous. What if I don’t fit in?”

“You look like a bombshell, and who needs to fit in? He’s bringing you for a reason which is big for him, he usually goes stag to work events.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Never had the right person to bring,” she smiles. “Okay, I’m ready to have you look at yourself.”

She takes you into your closet and you don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. Inez made your eyes look somehow fierce and delicate at the same time and your hair! You’ve never felt this good about how you look before.

“Wow,” you breathe and turn around to see the back of the dress, the diamonds cascading like frozen water.

There’s a knock at your door and Inez goes to answer it. Reynolds appears behind you in the mirror, a big smile on his face.

“You look incredible, Miss y/n,” he says.

“Thank you,” you smooth out the front of your dress. “Is it time to go?”

“Almost. Jake is downstairs waiting for you whenever you’re ready.”

“I think she’s ready,” Inez gives you an encouraging smile.

You follow her out of your room, Reynolds’ trailing behind, and the butterflies are back in your stomach because Jake is going to see you now. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you descend the stairs, eyes on your feet so you don’t miss a step and take a tumble. When you’re finally on a flat surface, you look up and your breath is taken away.

He’s wearing his Navy dress blues and this is the first time you’ve seen him in something other than his khakis. His wings glimmer in the light and he’s clean shaven with his hair styled perfectly. He’s so very handsome.

“Sugar…as I live and breathe,” he drawls, his voice like honey. “You’re breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you reply shyly.

“I have something for you,” he says then reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a Tiffany blue box.

You’ve never seen one in real life and now he’s placing one in your palm. With shaking fingers, you undo the white satin bow and lift off the lid. There’s another small blue box and when you pop it open you see earrings in the shape of leaves with small diamonds embedded.

“I thought earrings would be best since a necklace would be hard to wear with the neckline,” he says.

“Jake, these are…wow. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” you shake your head.

“I have,” he smiles at you. “Would you like to try them on?”

You nod and he holds the box in his palm so you can remove the earrings from the cushion. They’re cold on your lobes and feel a bit heavier than what you’d normally wear but they fit nicely.

“How do they look?” you ask him.

“Stunning,” he smiles. “Come look.”

He moves you in front of the mirror in the hall and they really complete the look of your dress.

“I love them, thank you so much,” you tell him.

“Are we ready to go?” Reynolds asks.

“Here’s your clutch, it has your phone and ID,” Inez hands it to you. “Have a great time! I want to hear all about it over lunch next week, okay?”

Jake guides you outside to Reynolds’ car with his fingers brushing the small of your back. He helps you in the seat being careful not to sit or place his foot on the slit of your dress. Which, now that you’re sitting, has fallen away from your thigh and you’re a little more exposed. Not too much but just enough to be promiscuous.

True to his word, you visit Betty before going to the ball and when she sees you she starts to cry. Tears prick in your own but you don’t want to ruin your makeup so you blink them away as best you can. She wishes you both to have a wonderful time and can’t wait to hear all about it when you visit again.

Nerves settled in your stomach on the drive to the venue but Jake took your hand, easily guiding you to the entrance. You saw all sorts of good looking people waiting outside, both in uniform and not and you wondered if it was a prerequisite to have good looks in order to join the Navy.

Some greeted Jake as he walked by, using his callsign or just his last name. Some of them were lingering their stares on you and you touched your face in case you had something on it.

It wasn’t until you were waiting to get inside to the main hall that you asked Jake why people were staring.

“They’re staring at you,” he murmurs. “You’re the most beautiful person here.”

“Jake, there’s tons of beautiful people here, including you.”

“But you’re a new type of beautiful, everyone knows everyone here already. They’re jealous you’re here with me, that’s all.”

He pinched your cheek affectionately.

The ball is literally being held in a ballroom and it’s a beautiful space with a grand marble staircase. Circular tables are set up at the bottom of the stairs where waiters and waitresses are walking around with trays of champagne and appetizers. This is a very fancy party.

You chat and mingle with people along the way to your table, Jake making you feel included every time. He pulls out your chair before you sit down and you read over the menu in its looped script. There’s seven courses, each one sounding better than the last.

“Hey Bagman!”

There’s a commotion to your left and two people are standing behind Jake. One is a woman in a beautiful red gown and the other is a man with glasses. He’s in Navy dress blues too.

“Is this Bradshaw’s date?” the woman asks, indicating to you.

“Bradshaw can dream. No, she’s my date. This is y/n,” Jake smiles when he says your name. ‘y/n, this here is Phoenix and Bob.”

“Nice to meet you,” you reply politely.

“You can call me Natasha. Sorry, another one of our friends has been bragging about how hot his date is so I just assumed. We’ve heard a lot about you, sorry you got stuck with Bagman as your date.”

“I thought you were called Hangman,” you look at him quizzically.

“I am. Phoenix has her own nickname for me,” he side eyes her and she just smiles.

“I bet Rooster’s date doesn’t even exist,” Bob says. You note his southern accent and wonder if he’s from Texas like Jake.

“You’re probably right, Bobby. He can’t land any woman with that atrocity on his top lip. Is Coyote here yet?”

“Almost. I bet he and the missus got stuck in traffic,” Natasha/Phoenix laughs.

“We’re gonna grab some drinks,” Bob says, “you two want anything?”

“Moscato for her and whisky for me,” Jake says.

“Be right back,” Bob smiles.

“Are they together?” you ask Jake when they’re out of earshot.

“Nat and Bob? No, Sugar, they’re just co-pilots.”

“Oh.”

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, placing his hand over yours on the table. His eyes show slight concern.

“I’m okay, still nervous to meet all your friends.”

“They’re harmless. They talk a big talk but don’t mean anything by it. They’re going to love you.”

He lifts your hand in his so he can kiss the back of it, his lashes fluttering.

As the night goes on you meet more of his friends, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy and Rooster. You met some of his commanding officers, Hondo and Maverick included, who gave you warm hugs, amongst others that you tried to remember. It was a lot of people but they were very friendly and had plenty of jabs towards Jake. He took them in stride but it made you wonder if their jabs did sting him a little bit.

Dinner was full of conversation, questions mainly pointed at you and about your flower shop. Then Rooster remembered you were the florist for Maverick and Penny’s wedding. Drinks were flowing so you assumed his next question was due to the alcohol being consumed.

“How much did Hangman pay you to be his date? He’s never brought a girl to one of these before,” Rooster jokes.

“Rooster,” Jake’s jaw ticks. He rests his hand on yours under the table, threading your fingers together. “Don’t.”

“What? I know there’s dating services if you need a date. Like if you don’t want to show up to your exes wedding alone, or a family reunion. No way she’d come here willingly with you.”

“Clearly you didn’t pay yours enough because she’s not here with you, is she now?” Jake arched an eyebrow, his tone steely.

You’ve never seen him like this before but the table laughs quietly. This must be routine for Jake and Rooster.

“She’s sick,” Rooster insists, then shifts his eyes to you. “How much did he pay you to be—“”

“Bradshaw! That’s enough,” Jake’s voice is severe and the table goes quiet.

“All right, all right,” Rooster rolls his eyes and leans back against his chair. “I’m only teasing.”

You remained quiet during the whole exchange. Did his friends know this wasn’t really real? What has he told his friends about you? Do they know this is fake, that you’re fake?

“Let’s go dance, Sugar.”

Jake stands up and you follow him with your hands joined together. You follow him to the dancefloor and he takes you in his arms. You can feel him shaking slightly in anger.

“I’m sorry about Rooster. We’ve always had a tense relationship and sometimes it goes too far. None of them know. I promise,” his eyes are serious but you see sadness there too.

“Why do you let them talk to you like that?”

“I’ve said way worse to them, trust me. It’s how we are, always has been,” he shrugs.

“Do they think you’re not good enough to date or something?”

“They’ve known me for a long time and have seen me when I was at my worst.”

“We’ll, I don’t like it,” you squeeze his shoulder. “They make you sound like a bad guy and you’re not.”

“I used to be. They’ve seen I changed but old habits die hard.”

“Hm,” you grunt.

He smiles at your distaste then spins you away from him. He catches you in his arms then dips you which makes you smile and laugh. You see his friends staring at you upside down before Jake pulls you back up.

“They’re seeing how you bring out a different side of me.”

“Are you showing off?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs then winks.

He dips you again and you fall into him laughing, this time people around you clapped at the move. The song changed to The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face and you stare at him in shock. You had an odd sense of deja vu then remembered your dream and you gasped.

“What is it?” he asks, gliding along the floor.

“Um,” you move your hand up behind his neck, fingers clinging to the short strands of his hair. “Nothing, just…did you ask them to play this song?”

“I might’ve suggested the DJ play this after I dipped you twice,” he nods. He tightens his hold on your lower back, his hand is warm on your bare skin. Then you feel the gentle circle of his fingertip on your skin and it only prompts you closer to him.

“Why?” you’re whispering now, your faces are close.

“Because the lyrics fit well with how I feel about you. I see the sun rise in your eyes everytime I look at you.”

You want to hide your face at his sweet words but you remember what he said at the pool and fight your inhibitions. So instead, you bite your lip. Jake brings his hand that’s holding yours in between you so he can tug your lip from your teeth.

“What are you thinking?” he asks softly, thumb still rubbing over your lower lip.

“I…I’m thinking I want…” you search his eyes as if the words you’re trying to say are there. Then you heard the lyrics of Robert Flack and it gives you the courage to ask, “Kiss me, Jake?”

He smiles softly, and when he moves his head down you close your eyes. You feel his soft breath first then his lips touch yours so delicately it instantly has you craving more but he kisses you slowly. You’re not sure how your feet are still moving with him but your lips are doing a new dance and when his tongue slips inside you sigh. You bring both hands into his hair while he grabs your waist.

You press yourself against him, loving how his lips feel. You feel it all the way down to your toes, nevermind you’re in a crowded room of people watching you. Kissing Jake is thrilling and new but also feels like home. You feel like you could fly.

You faintly hear a throat clearing but you keep kissing him, smiling a little as he nibbles on your lip. Then the throat clearing is a bit louder.

“Beat it, Phoenix,” Jake murmurs and continues kissing you.

“y/n’s phone is blowing up and I think it’s an emergency,” Phoenix says.

That causes you both to tear away, his eyes mirror the worry in yours and you’re running to the table. It’s missed calls from the rehab center Betty is at. It starts to ring again but you’re frozen.

“Let me,” Jake takes the phone from you easily. “Hello? She’s here with me, she was scared to answer the phone, what’s going on?”

You watch his face for any sign of your worst fear coming true but as he listens to whoever is on the phone, his face relaxes. He gathers your clutch and his phone from the table.

“Do we need to take her? Okay, we’ll be there shortly,” he hangs up then cups your cheeks in his hands.

“What–what–” your voice is shaking.

“An ambulance is taking Betty to the emergency room,” he says very slowly, his eyes steady on yours but you pull away in a panic. His hands are strong on your cheeks and you remain in between them. “Listen to me, Sugar. They found blood in her stool and that’s why they’re transporting her. The hospital will be able to help her faster. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You cling onto his wrists.

“Do you want to go home and change or go right there?”

“Right there,” you continue to whisper.

“I’ve got you, all right?” He kisses your forehead then grabs your hand. “Let’s go.”

You rush out of the ballroom with him, leaving the precious life-altering kiss on the dancefloor and head toward another life-altering moment.

#jake seresin x reader #an arrangement #an arrangement series #jake seresin #hangman #hangman writing #hangman fluff #hangman x reader #jake seresin fluff #top gun writing #top gun fic #top gun maverick writing

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