#unless i’m blind and can’t find them

[genderflouiid]

alpha james this, alpha james that, what about alpha regulus HUH

someone send me recs for alpha reg pls i’ll love you forever xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon, who swears he is perfectly fine and capable of doing everything himself. But it doesn’t really matter what he thinks says because Price sees differently. He sees the way Simon’s hands shake and how he’s started fidgeting when he’s never done that in the past, he can see Simon’s right side, the side that was crushed under rubble during an attack, he sees it shake and almost falter every time Simon puts even a little bit to much weight on it, but what worry’s Price the most is when Simon zones out and stops paying attention to his surroundings or whatever he’s doing. Not to mention now Simon has to go back and live in civilization, when all he’s known is military life since he was still a teen.

So although Simon claims he’s fine, Price gets him live-in-help, you. You’ve been with him the past week and although he rarely talks you’ve learned a few things. The blinds always need to be fully open unless he’s sleeping, he needs to be able to see what’s happening but it’ll keep him up when he’s trying to sleep, so they close at night. He gets very tense when he can’t see your hands, it hurts you a little to know he doesn’t trust you but you understand. He can't cook at all, unless you prepare food for him he’ll only eat a prepackaged dinner nothing else, of course that isn't healthy so you've started fixing him both breakfast and lunch which he accepts with a grunt but he doesn’t eat till you’ve started. He never takes off his mask around you unless he's eating and even still only up to his nose. Lastly you've noticed something always sparked in his eyes when you called him Simon, you haven't been able to figure out what it is so instead of risking offending him or something, you've stuck to calling him Ghost.

Price chose you for two reasons, you were quite, something he thought Simon would like, he was very wrong. It’s probably the oddest thing about him, he doesn’t like when you're super quiet you've learned it cause he doesn’t know where you are or what you’re planning the other reason is Price hired you is because you were a military nurse for quite a bit so you would always be there for Simon. This was something Simon actually did like it meant he didn’t have to leave his flat just to see a doctor, what he didn’t think about though was the cut and bruise on his face that he would have to remove his balaclava for.

“Okay Ghost” you paused not sure how he would react to having to take his mask off “I-i need you to remove your mask for me please” almost immediately he grunted out a why “because you have a cut and bruise on your face and I need to make sure it’s healing properly” Simon stilled completely for a few seconds before he slowly pulled the balaclava completely off. You took a second looking over his entire face before you brought your hand up inspecting the area “your bruise is completely gone” you whispered slightly surprised it had only been a week, you went to write it down but the moment your hand left his face he spoke up “it’s still ere, jus can’t see it” carefully your brought you hand back to his face to carefully push on his check “does that hurt” “bit” was all he grunted out, you hummed to yourself as you removed your hand and started writing, but had you been looking at him you would have seen the almost pout gracing his face.

Once you finally looked back up, placing your hand on his face “okay let’s finish this quickly” you say looking over his scar “I know I’m not that pretty but you ain’t gotta rush” he said in the quietest voice. You looked up into his eyes quickly only to find them looking back at you with what you could only describe as curiosity mixed with need “Gh-Simon that’s not what I meant, your very beautiful I just thought you wouldn't want me touching or looking at your face any more since you always hide it behind that mask” he never replied to you, just kept staring with that look in his eyes. Finally you peeled your eyes away, finished writing whatever you needed to in your book then you got up and walked away “I’m gonna fix us some lunch, okay Simon?” you called from in the kitchen already, and that’s when Simon managed to place the feeling he had been having every time he saw you. He liked you, he had a crush, a crush! “Simon?” You called again “yeah okay” he called back, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up, not when he thinks he might have found a new purpose in life.

pt 2 here

[coffeefleecy]

Secrets Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Caleb X MC

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Caleb has never been one for subtlety. He finds that people dancing around a subject or belaboring a conversation by not saying what they mean tends to frustrate him so much that he often finishes their thought for them.

Get to the fuckin’ point, He thinks to himself, hands flexing in agitation by his sides, fingers stretching out then curling back up into his palm as the nail bites into the skin hard enough to leave red crescents.

Caleb says what he wants, does what he wants and casts no unnecessary apologies he won’t mean anyways. That is, unless it comes to you.

Word Count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: smut, scent kink, possessive behavior, masturbation, face-sitting, cunnilingus, dirty talk

Caleb has never been one for subtlety. He finds that people dancing around a subject or belaboring a conversation by not saying what they mean tends to frustrate him so much that he often finishes their thought for them. 

Get to the fuckin’ point, He thinks to himself, hands flexing in agitation by his sides, fingers stretching out then curling back up into his palm as the nail bites into the skin hard enough to leave red crescents.

Caleb says what he wants, does what he wants and casts no unnecessary apologies he won’t mean anyways. That is, unless it comes to you.

You.

Everything about you drives Caleb insane and you are the one person he won’t  - can’t -be upfront with. How could he be? You make him go fucking stupid. He can barely think around you, let alone speak and be entirely honest with every disgusting, depraved thought twisting around in his mind. He has to filter himself around you to spare the both of you.

“Caleb?” Your voice sends shivers up his spine.

“Hm?”

“Did you want to watch that new rom-com with me tonight? I’ve been seeing it everywhere and I’m afraid I’ll get spoiled if I don’t watch it soon!”

He observes you over his cup of coffee and tries not to fixate on the foam that’s gathered by your bottom lip.

“Whatever, I don’t have anything going on tonight.”

He fucking hates rom-coms, but there’s a lot of annoying shit he’d do just see that pretty smile play at your lips. He’d walk barefoot over hot magma just to hear you laugh. Hell, he’d probably take a waterboarding session if it meant you’d drape those gorgeous fucking legs over his lap.

“Thanks,” You beam at him. “Your place?”

Caleb returns your smile and laughs.

“Sure, but you have to bring food this time. I’m getting sick of you stealing all of my groceries.”

It goes unsaid that he’d let you rob him blind and max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to.

“Deal! I’ll bring whatever you want, just send me a text when you get home!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caleb thinks he has time. You are always a little later than you said you’d be and it truthfully never bothers him in spite of his nagging need to be early to everything. The problem is that you’re knocking on his door and calling out for him as he’s in the middle of fucking his fist, desperate to get some relief and stave off the cravings for you as a precaution. Your voice is blood in shark infested waters, sending him into overdrive as he bucks into his hand. 

“Caleb!” 

His name on your lips has him whimpering and forces him to bite into the sleeve of his shirt to keep from alerting you to his activities despite the walls and door between the two of you. He squeezes the base of his cock to the point that the unshed tears of pleasure he’s been holding back begin to trail down his face, frustration and lack of release seizing his entire body. Your knocks get louder and the impatience permeates from your side of the wall until it feels like an actual, tangible weight. 

Caleb’s throat is raw as he snarls and stuffs himself back into his pants, completely unsure of how to proceed. He has to get you to stop knocking and there’s no way he’s going to be able to finish with you beating down his door, so he picks the lesser of two evils and grits his teeth to greet you.

“Finally,” You huff angrily when you’re met with his red face. “Woah, what happened to you?”

“I thought you were going to be another half hour,” Caleb says, ignoring your question. “I just finished working out - I thought I had time to take a shower.”

“Oh, by all means,” you wave your hand nonchalantly as you push past him, arms laden with bags of snacks and drinks. “I’ll just hang out on my phone or something. I don’t mind!”

Caleb’s thankful for your lack of attention to detail, taking your fixation on settling in to adjust himself in his sweats. It would have to be one fucking cold shower.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Just find the movie and we can get started after I get out.”

You hum, more focused on laying out all of the snack choices than sparing a glance in his direction. 

“Sounds good, take your time. I may borrow some clothes, is that okay?”

Caleb winces. Yes. No. God, he wants to see you drowning in his clothes but he’s terrified of what it’s going to do to his already fucked libido.

“Just take what you want, you know where to look.”

~

Caleb’s shower is wholly unsatisfying; the frigid spray of water does wonders for his erection but sharpens his mind and instincts to serrated points and he’s come to the conclusion that nothing can slake his desire for you no matter how much he tries to snuff it out.

The whole process is around five minutes in total, mostly because he wants to maximize his time with you. Caleb carelessly runs a towel through his hair, faint droplets of water still clinging to the tips of some strands in his haste to get to you. The neatly folded stack of fresh clothes he’s placed surreptitiously on the counter calls to him like sirens as the cool air pricks at his skin, gooseflesh decorating his body.

 Being cold is less embarrassing than being hard, he thinks.

 He dons a comfortable pair of loved sweats that have been through the wash maybe a few too many times, no structure and all snugness to the fabric. The shirt he’s selected is sleeveless and the armholes are stretched so wide it fits him more like a poncho. He’s caught you staring at his arms a few times when he’s worn it, more likely in awe of how his workout routine is treating him and less likely that you want to rip it off of him, but he likes to pretend it’s the latter.

Caleb sees you’re perched on his couch and wearing his sweater and faded pajama bottoms when he joins you in the living room and a warm feeling spreads in his chest at the thought of you being so comfortable in his space. His fingertips twitch at his sides, flexing and stretching to give his brain something less dangerous to focus on. He can hear you humming to yourself faintly as you scroll through the options on his screen, your face the portrait of unwavering concentration complete with you worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

He wants to bite it.

“I see you’ve helped yourself to my closet,” Caleb remarks teasingly.

“Huh? Oh, I thought you said it was okay!”

“I did, you know me well enough to know I’m joking. Don’t give me that face,” He adds when your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Your clothes are just more comfy than mine are,” You pout.

“They look better on you than they do on me,” He concedes, focusing on the television screen to keep himself from fixating on that very true fact.

“I don’t know how true that is, your arms look gigantic in that shirt.”

Pride blooms in the back of his throat with a delightful burn. There’s something in the way you praise him that makes him feel like he’s pleased you - like he’s made the right choice and he’s climbing in the ranks of your favor. 

I did good.

“I gotta keep up the workout routines - how else am I meant to have the energy to hang out with you?”

That earns him a scoff.

“Please, you and I both know that you look forward to this. Kinda lame that your sister is your only friend.”

“You’re not my fucking sister.” Caleb admonishes you with an eye roll. 

“Okay, geez,” You backpedal, pressing the play button on the remote. “I don’t know why it bothers you so much - if you hate me, just say so.”

“I don’t hate you, you’re just not my sister,” Caleb grabs your legs and hauls them over his lap - a position neither of you are strangers to. “Would you rather I hung out with you out of obligation for the sake of some false familial title or would you rather it be of my own free will?”

“Just watch the movie, Caleb,” You relax against the back of the couch and stretch your legs more comfortably across him. “And don’t even think about falling asleep - I’ve got my eyes on you!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caleb can’t make heads or tails of what’s happening on the screen in front of him because you’re absently rubbing your legs together in his lap. He’s going to need a mouthguard around you if he has to grit his teeth anymore; he fears he’s lost quite a bit of surface area over the years. Normally, he grins and bears it, but with how pent up he’s been for the past few days and his precautionary self-love session getting cut short, he’s a little more anxious than usual. 

He doesn’t truly mean to use his evol - he tries not to, if he can help it - but he needs you to stop squirming or he’s going to have bigger problems than you being annoyed with him.

“Caleb!”

“What? Stop movin’ around! You’re jostling me.” Caleb snaps defensively. 

“I’m ‘jostling’ you? You don’t have to use that on me to get me to stop, just ask next time,” You scoff, fighting fruitlessly against his evol. “Caleb, let me go, I’ll just move away.”

“I didn’t want you to move, you’re just… distracting me. You can keep ‘em there, just try to sit a little bit more still.”

Caleb almost expects you to retreat when he releases his hold on you, but you simply shoot him a half-hearted glare and stay put, too comfortable with his hands draping over you to want to move. He must have a look on his face, because you’re surveying him quietly.

“Got something to say?”

“Nothing, you just look a little flushed. Do you think you’re getting sick?”

“No, I -” Caleb is cut off by the cool, relaxing feeling of your hand against his admittedly glistening forehead.

“You feeling okay, Caleb? We can call it early.”

Caleb’s answering smile is tired; lackluster, though you know he would never ask you to leave or take you up on your offer to do so.

“Nah, ‘m fine. Stay. I’ve just had a long day.”

You pull away to lean back against the couch and prop your head up by tucking your palm to cup your jaw. If you notice that Caleb’s head falls slack to chase your hand, you don’t say anything.

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

Caleb’s eyes flash with a slight glint of something you can’t quite place before he turns his attention back to the television.

“I’m fine, really - don’t worry about me. I thought you’ve been wanting to watch this! Pay attention.”

“I am paying attention - it seems like you’re the one that’s distracted. Whatever. Caleb, I’m cold.”

“Want a blanket?”

“Just come closer – you’re like a heating pad.”

Caleb sighs dramatically while he opens his arms for you, silently panicking and begging you to make good on your promise to sit still. He can feel his heart thudding rapidly in his chest and prays you can’t hear it.

“Seriously, you doing okay?” You ask, muffled into his shirt as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Seriously, pipsqueak - I’m fine. Stop buggin’ me and watch your movie.”

Caleb takes the opportunity to pull you closer to him, squeezing his eyes shut as he takes in the scent of your shampoo. He’s always been so sensitive to smells and it kills him that you give off the most intoxicating one. It’s almost funny, he thinks – how primal human beings can be and how little it takes to reduce them to a lesser state; all instinct.

Fuck, does he have to fight every single one of his instincts when he’s around you. He wonders if it’s like that for you, too, but your face is an open book and you’ve never had a thought he hasn’t been able to decipher. It’s torture for him to know he’s the only one suffering, though he’s at least thankful for your ignorance when it comes to his own issues. You make him feel like a fucking creep and sometimes he wonders if he actually might be.

“You’re so cozy, Caleb,” You groan, the sound doing absolutely heinous things for his self-restraint.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No, I mean it - you’re like a giant teddy bear.”

Your body molds itself to his, sending his thoughts to dangerous places and making him wonder if you’re ever truly aware of how you’re affecting him and just playing dumb. Your track record with guys leads him to believe that you’re just that innocent - he knows, he’s shared a home with you and the walls aren’t exactly thick.

“Gonna give me any room to breathe or are you hoping that I absorb you through osmosis or something? I mean, really - ah -”

Caleb is cut off by your thigh sliding between his legs in what he hopes is an innocent attempt for warmth.

“Oh, sorry - did I hurt you?”

Your naivety is fucking delicious. Caleb swallows the knot in his throat and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Ignorant to the source of his discomfort, you shrug it off and slip your arms around his waist.

“You’re being weird today.”

“How am I being weird?” Caleb demands, though the irony of his defensive tone isn’t lost on him.

“Just jumpy. Jittery – I don’t know. I know you said you had a long day, but you’re never this tense around me.”

Maybe if you’d just shown up when you said you were going to and let him fucking jerk off in peace, he wouldn’t be having this problem.

“Sorry,” Caleb’s reply is breathy; strained. “It really is just that I’ve had a long day.”

“Don’t be sorry,” You chide. “Just let me know if I can help. I don’t like it when you’re uncomfortable.”

You lean forward to push some hair out of his face and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Your thigh rubs against him even more with the proximity and you’re essentially unknowingly straddling his leg. A sharp, high-pitched whimper bubbles in the back of Caleb’s throat, too sudden for him to suppress it and too loud for you to not have heard it.

“C-Caleb?” You manage after a beat of incredibly uncomfortable silence.

“Don’t,” He manages through gritted teeth.

“N-no, did I hurt you that time? I’m sorry, I -” You scramble to move off of him, but freeze when you feel something rigid twitching between your thighs.

Caleb wraps his arms around you to keep you from squirming and escalating this situation even further, but all the motion does is push him between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath, tremors racking your body at this new feeling. 

“Don’t - don’t fucking move,” Caleb warns desperately, his voice wobbly and breathless. “Just - just give me a second.”

Your eyes narrow, and whether it’s from years of being bossed around or from the intense urges to push him further, you grind down on him. The effect is instantaneous and the sounds that fall from Caleb’s lips will be seared into your brain forever in the form of whines so needy and broken that it sounds like  in agony.

“Don’t make me use my fucking evol on you, you brat,” he spits out, though the words are less like he’s threatening you and more like he’s begging you.

Images of you spread out, forced down by his unwavering gravity while he’s knuckle deep in your tight cunt flood his mind, the dam of his restraint shattering and splintering into dust. His chest heaves as he swallows a gulp of air, desperate for anything to quell the tremors racking through his body at the feeling of you pressed so closely against him. His worn sweatpants are so thin, he can feel the heat between your thighs burning him. You give him no chances to catch himself before he falls and jerkily roll your hips into his.

“What the fuck are you doing, pipsqueak?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly, but make no moves to get off of him.

“We can’t come back from this,” Caleb warns shakily. “Once you cross that line, we can’t come back from it.”

“Is this why you’ve been so worked up today?” You demand, though your voice lacks conviction as you grind into him with unpracticed and shaky determination.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“So show me.” 

Caleb’s cock is so painfully hard in his ratty sweats and your breath so close to his neck has him leaking precum. He’s given you so many outs and is running out of willpower rapidly. You take every last one of his nerves and stomp on them, leaving nothing but destruction in your wake as you invade every pore and cell of his body and hold him hostage.

“Please, please,” He begs. “I can’t - I can’t hold back anymore -”

You swallow his desperate and pathetic pleas down with the faintest press of your lips to his, innocent in intent with no thought behind the action. It’s like you’ve flipped a switch in him. A deep, almost unsettling growl rips from the back of his throat and before either of you can stop it, he’s got you splayed out on your back with his knee pushing insistently between your thighs. His lips crash into yours yet again, though his kiss is entirely mask off and undisguised as he forces his tongue into your mouth like he’s worried he doesn’t have enough time to memorize your taste. 

You reciprocate as best as you can with uncertain licks and nips, but Caleb seems almost annoyed when you fight for dominance with the kiss. He grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb and pries your lips open with his tongue, conquering your mouth with the sweet tang of apples and desperation.

“Need it,” he pants into your mouth after breaking the kiss to beg. “Need you, need all of you, please -”

A choked moan wrenches from your lips as Caleb lunges forward to cover your body with his and decorate your neck with evidence of his love. His teeth leave small indents that he laves his tongue over to soothe, comforting you like he’s always so good at doing.

“You can,” You encourage, craning your neck to expose more of it to him. “Feels so good.”

“Please, fuck - let me get a taste, I’ll do anything,” Caleb whines as he grinds his clothed cock into your hip. “Just spread your legs, let me in - no - wait, sit on my face. Please, I’m fucking begging you to sit on my face so I can make you feel so good.”

Caleb sounds drunk; absolutely dizzy with the prospect that he gets to see you like this, let alone touch you. His tone has taken on a light, airy and high-pitched kick, breathless and needy like he can’t get the words out fast enough.

“I’ve - I’ve never done this before,” you pant, face burning bright with the inklings of shame that come with inexperience.

“No one’s ever touched you like this before?” Caleb’s head snaps up and when you see the fire in his eyes, the heat between your legs feels like an inferno.

“Never – never wanted anyone,” You explain, though you’re not sure why you feel like you have to. “No time.”

“You saving yourself for me or something, Pipsqueak?” His words are light and playful on the surface, but you can hear the tension, like he’s going to come undone at any second.

“I -” You can barely speak, his words rooting you to the spot and sending shivers down your spine. “Did you want me to?”

“Can’t just say shit like that,” He groans. “Fuck, are you sure this is okay? Please call me off, please - I really meant it when I said we can’t come back from this - I can’t come back from this.”

“Want you C-Caleb,” You stammer, so overcome with all of these new feelings that you can’t even vocalize what it is that you want. “Please.”

In lieu of a response, Caleb dips forward to kiss you again, savoring your taste and whining into your mouth at the friction between your bodies. He’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s so hard he’s aching and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s leaking through his sweats at this point, too dizzy with you and the fact that you want him in any capacity to care.

You help him with your - his - sleep pants and clumsily shimmy them down your legs, sucking in a sharp breath as the cold air hits your newly exposed skin. Caleb’s teeth sink into your bottom lip and he covers your mouth with his to swallow your cries of pain and pleasure.

“Please,” Caleb begs as he trails kisses down your jawline. “Please let me taste you - wanna eat you out so badly, please, please -”

“I trust you, b-but if it tastes bad or your grossed out please don’t feel like you have to -”

Caleb scoffs.

“Gonna drink up everything you have to give me until you can’t give me any more,” He slips his hands underneath the sweater you stole from him and yanks it off of you with no preamble, impatient to get to his meal. “Know you taste so fucking good, I just know it…”

Your lust outweighs your confusion at his last statement and instead of questioning it, you thread your fingers through his silky locks and take a mental snapshot of the image of him pressing kisses into your stomach.

Caleb makes a note to pay special attention to your chest the next time he gets a chance – prays that there will be a next time – but he’s far too focused on the scent between your legs that his mouth fills with saliva at the thought of finally getting to taste you.

His fingers tremble as he impatiently paws at your underwear, scowling at them like they’re personally wronging him. Caleb rips them down your thighs and groans as a long strand of your arousal stretches with the soaked fabric.

“ ‘s fucking wet,” He croons, quietly tucking your underwear into the pocket of his sweats as he presses his lips against your entrance. 

His eyes practically roll into the back of his head as he inhales, a shudder racking his entire body in a frigid rush at your potent scent. 

“Smell so fucking good - it’s all mine,” He mutters under his breath, almost as if he hadn’t meant to even speak those words aloud. 

He flattens his tongue against you and licks a heavy stripe up, collecting as much of your wetness as he possibly can. 

“C-Caleb,” You whine. 

“That’s right, say it,” He says proudly before covering your pussy with his tongue, his name on your lips acting like a shot of adrenaline.

You’re so wet that you can’t tell where your arousal stops and Caleb’s saliva begins. His fingernails bite into your ass cheeks, pulling you as close as he can physically be to you, fucking you with his tongue and working his jaw even though it’s screaming in protest from the effort. It’s so messy, you’re almost embarrassed to look at him as he ravages your cunt like he’ll die if he’s pried away. 

“Tastes so fucking good, knew it,” He moans hoarsly, voice watery and high-pitched in a way that makes him sound like he’s crying.

“I c-can’t - I don’t know what’s happening,” You cover your face with your hands as he pulls his tongue out of you and sucks your clit between his lips, the pressure and suction so hard that it almost hurts. “I just -”

“You gonna fucking come for me?” Caleb demands, dividing his attention from devouring you to look up at you.

You hear him practically growl, animalistic and angry, before you feel him prying your hands from your face.

“Fucking look at me, do you understand me?” His beautiful eyes burn into yours, determined and hungry. “Did I say you could cover your face?”

“No, it’s just,” Your voice shakes, wavering slightly as you try to catch your breath. “It’s a little embarrassing - I don’t -”

“Hey, hey,” Caleb’s tone shifts and his gaze softens. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Caleb presses kisses up your stomach, trailing his lips up to your sternum, collarbone, neck and finally your lips. He’s covered in your essence, lips soaked and swollen from his relentless drive to make you come for him. He pries your lips apart with his tongue, flicking it against your bottom lip before sliding it in, forcing you to taste yourself.

“See how good you taste,” He breathes into your mouth. “Could eat you out all fuckin’ day.”

“C-Caleb,” You protest, feeling the dregs of your shame flutter in your stomach. 

“Want you to ride my face,” He continues desperately, body trembling above yours. “Get you nice and wet and let you fucking cover me with it.”

“Wh-Where did you learn to talk like this? I didn’t know you were capable of that!” You half-heartedly swat him with a trembling hand.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” He hisses, the words heavy like a looming threat. “I’ve got shit locked up inside my head that would make you want to run.”

“Tell me,” you encourage him, mind void of any rational thoughts as he sucks scarlet roses into your neck, covering you in marks you have no energy to protest to. “What?”

“You sure you wanna know?”

“Just wanna hear you - wanna hear your voice,” you breathe, trembling when his teeth dig into your throat. 

“Yeah? Wanna hear how badly I want to fucking wreck you? You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into, pipsqueak.”

The term of endearment he usually refers to you as sounds like venom; sarcastic and mean as he teases and taunts you - like he’s got an inside joke he’s not letting you in on and he’s getting off on bullying you for it.

“Don’t be mean, Caleb,” You whine. 

He pulls away from ravaging your neck and actually fucking laughs, the sound sending thousands of pinpricks embedding themselves into your slick skin, forcing you to tremble and writhe beneath him.

“Don’t play fucking dumb, you and I both know you like it when I’m mean to you,” His grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger to force you to look at him. 

“Caleb -”

“You don’t even know what to do with it, do you?” He coos, patronizing and chock-full of false pity. “So fucking pathetic that you want me to tell you what I want to do with you and you wouldn’t even understand it.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I - “

He scoffs as he roughly jerks your head to the side, stealing the words from your mouth and examining and admiring the marks he’s branded you with proudly.

“Look at you begging for me without even knowing what you want. Fuck, I love seeing my marks all over you.”

“Not begging,” you huff, the long-standing game between the two of you to break the other persisting even into adulthood. 

“You will,” Caleb promises. “And you’re gonna beg for me to make you cum. I’m not gonna ask again, get that fucking pussy on my face before I make you.”

You’re speechless as he leans back on the couch, the portrait of debauchery with kiss swollen and spit-slick lips, cock straining against his pathetic excuse for sweatpants. His chest rises and falls as though an immeasurable force is pressing against him, breathing labored as he fixes you with a challenging glare, pupils so dilated you’d worry he’s high on something in any other context. 

“I - I don’t know if I can, Caleb I don’t want to suffocate you.”

“I want you to fucking suffocate me, here - I’ll do the work for you,” Caleb snarls, reaching forward to dig his fingers into the backs of your thighs. “Come here.”

You cry out as he yanks your body forward and forces you to straddle his chest. He spares no time, terrified that he’s wasting the nanoseconds that he isn’t touching you as he manhandles you into the perfect position. He’s got you straddling his face, eyes burning in the frenzy your scent drives him to as you drip messily onto his face. Caleb inhales, breathing you in as he digs his fingernails into your thighs to press you as closely as he can to his face. 

His tongue is frantic, probing and searching with no rhyme or reason other than to collect everything you have to give him, You tremble above him, overwhelmed with the feelings as every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, white hot wires licking flames of pleasure everywhere inside you, synapses giving way to delicious electricity.  

When Caleb sucks your puffy clit into his mouth, you shake so violently that you’d be worried about falling if he weren’t fusing you to his mouth. Caleb is whining, loud and unashamed as he drinks you in, his own hips bucking into nothing as he chases the phantom feeling of you on top of him.

“C-Caleb, I can’t -”

Your words bubble and fizz in your throat, dying out as Caleb doubles his efforts to drive you to blissed out silence. 

“Use me,” He pants as he comes up for a momentary breath. “Ride my face, please - I wanna make you feel so good, please just use me.”

“What about -”

The feeling of his tongue probing inside of you silences you entirely, forcing your mouth open in a silent scream. Caleb moves his hands from your thighs to settle at your hips, fingertips digging into them as he moves you like he wants, taking all of the effort so you can just feel. Caleb’s tongue feels impossibly long as he explores parts of you that even you haven’t managed to reach through solitary experimentation. 

“Fuck it,” Caleb grunts, and before you can ask what he means or if he’s okay, you can feel his evol weighing down on you. 

“Just for right now,” Caleb tries to explain, though he’s too wrapped up in freeing his hands to make sense of it to you. 

You don’t have to ask what he means by that, because as soon as he no longer has to anchor you to his face with his hands, he’s got his tongue on your clit and shoving his index and middle fingers inside of you. He’s met with no resistance as your slick gushes out and drenches his hand. Caleb’s tongue flicks at your clit with concentrated and relentless pressure as he pistons his fingers in and out of you, building speed with your every cry and whimper. He can feel you tightening around his digits and by the way you’re trembling, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

“Caleb - I can’t; I don’t know what’s happening, I’m -” You’re babbling incoherently, a scared edge to your tone as you surrender to the pleasure and exhaustion.

“Gonna come for me, just let go, be a good girl.”

Caleb’s encouragement and new nickname for you cause something to snap, the sound of his voice and feeling of his tongue and fingers taking your body hostage. You hate when Caleb uses his evol on you to bully you, but the feeling of his command forcing you onto his face as he demands pleasure from you has you sobbing his name. You give into him as that tightly wound coil inside of you snaps, your whole body going limp as your brain short-circuits, black dots fading in and out of your vision.

It barely registers when his evol releases you because as soon as the force is gone, he’s catching you with his arms and maneuvering your trembling body down his own so he can hold you to his chest. 

“Good girl, you did so good for me,” he murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair to soothingly stroke it. “You okay?”

“I’m - I’m okay, what about you?” You manage between deep, shuddering breaths.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But - you didn’t -”

Caleb shifts beneath you and it registers that he’s trying to keep his lower half away away from you. You look back and notice a spreading wet spot at the front of those sweats of his you hate so much.

“I did,” He says sheepishly as you turn back to meet his gaze.  “That was more for me than it was for you. Did I push you too far? Do you feel okay? Fuck - I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry after that.”

 Your voice is watery and Caleb notices immediately.

“No, no I’m not sorry it happened, I just try so hard around you to keep it all locked in, but I couldn’t. You drive me fucking insane, you know that right? Like you have to know how stupid you make me.”

“That bad, huh?” You joke.

“Worse. Give me a second to catch my breath and then we’ll get cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay – Caleb?”

“Hm?”

“Can I … Um… is there anything I can do for you?”

Caleb laughs, fighting the urge to divulge how badly he wants you to fuck the last couple of decades of frustration out of him.

“I don’t think you wanna open that can of worms tonight, you already can’t move. Just let me take care of you. There is something you can do for me next time, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Just send me a fuckin’ text if you’re gonna show up early!”

[suguann]

Possessive!Geto who pretends he doesn't care when he overhears that a new high-paying customer comes to the club every Friday to watch you specifically perform on stage, knowing he can’t really do anything about it unless a patron breaks the rules printed on a neon sign above the bar—No touching the dancers unless you're tipping—even if he’s the one in charge.

He’ll smile and nod, shaking hands with big spenders with sleazy smiles in the VIP lounge while his eyes find you from the other side of the room as you climb into another man’s lap.

He can’t stop his jaw from clenching when that same customer tips a month’s worth of rent every week or asks about private shows even though you don't do them. How he notices you smiling prettily for this customer, eyelashes fluttering with stars in your eyes to match the glitter on your cheeks before you walk off stage toward the dressing rooms. 

Sometimes you play the part of making a lonely man feel wanted too well. 

Possessive!Geto whose hand tightens around his glass tumbler, watching the man who’s been coming to see you (now twice a week) slip a thick white card into the top of your stockings. The fact that he touched your thigh with his dirty hands irks Geto the most.

In times like this, he wishes he had never come up with the rule about keeping your relationship a secret—so nobody thinks I’m picking favorites—because regret is a thick pill to swallow.

When you walk up to his office later, Geto wastes no time by dragging you down onto his lap, trailing his nose down the slope of your neck where your soft-smelling perfume is strongest and sucking a bruise into the hollow of your throat for everyone to see. 

You’re still wearing those cross-stitch stockings—the feel of them under his hands making him halfway hard—and he yanks the bodice of your dress down just underneath the swell of your breasts to get rid of the thought of another man touching you.

“B-but, Suguru, we’re at work—”

“Let me enjoy these pretty tits, huh?” he growls before sucking a nipple into his greedy mouth.

You whine his name, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

The blinds to his floor-to-ceiling windows are open, but it's tinted glass so nobody can tell what happens behind locked doors. Except, when he glances toward the busy club below, he wishes everyone in the building could witness what it looks like for you to fall apart under his hands—a personal show you put on just for him.

Only him. His fingers hook inside you to feel you tight and hot around him as a reminder.

Possessive!Geto who has enough one day after that customer asks for another private session—this time, he goes to Geto directly.

It’s a busy night, and every dancer works the floor. Well, almost. 

You’re kneeling between his spread legs, spit dribbling down your chin, whimpering while trying to open your throat for him.

He brushes your hair away from your face, watching your mouth messily slurp around his cock under his desk—his jaw is slack, and his other hand clenches on the armrest of his chair. “So good—fuck, baby—so fucking pretty,” he mutters, his top teeth catching his bottom lip.

His head tilts back when you eagerly fill your mouth with him again and again until he feels you choke, making his thighs flex under your hands. Geto’s thumb smooths an arc across your cheek.

“There you go,” he huffs. “I love that little mouth—”

There’s a knock on his door, and he feels you panic, moving to pull off his cock. But the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you pressed against him. Your nails bite into his skin, tears prickling your lashline as small distressed mewls escape your lips.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” he hisses. “Not unless I say so.”

Another knock echoes in his office.

“Come in.”

The customer with the too-shiny tie and a penchant for slipping thousands into your g-string opens the door with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye, sauntering into the room like he owns the place. “How about that deal—”

Whatever he’s about to ask is lost on Geto because his ears are ringing when he feels you swallow around him, and his balls draw up tight against his body, and—

Possessive!Geto who grunts when you moan around his cock as he cums down your throat, his lips twitching at the look of shock on the customer’s face.

“I’ve heard your deal,” he says eventually, glancing down at your glazed eyes and wiping away what little mess escaped your mouth with his thumb. “But she’s not yours to take.”

[jellicatty]

‧˚꒰ TRAFALGAR LAW FALLING IN LOVE ₊

╰┈➤ contains : trafalgar law x gender neutral reader. fluff. sfw. 908 words.

╰┈➤ note : he may be a bit ooc here huhu plz forgive me ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

— "You're interesting Y/N- ya"

• There’s only one thing you need in order to impress and catch the attention of Trafalgar Law: be smart. Body shape, body count, and looks do not matter to him. With intelligence alone, it’s easy to capture this man’s eyes.

• Once he’s attracted to you, expect to be showered with teasing remarks. Of course, not too many, just enough to make you flustered for the rest of the day. However, this does not mean he wants to be your significant other. Remember, this is Trafalgar Law we’re talking about. He wants to be sure if this is a feeling he wants to pursue.

• He knows the dangers of the New World and losing someone close all too well. So, I’m guessing he will never make a move (unless provoked by a near-death experience). Only stares from afar, small jokes here and there, and maybe some light touches too. It would be the end for him if you knew he was somehow attracted to you.

• You probably have to be friends before the whole ordeal happens. I can’t see Law falling in love at first sight or immediately after a few days. There has to be some deep trust and chemistry running between you.

— "This can’t be real."

• After some time, if his crush on you still hasn’t gone away, then he might consider thinking about it. Hard. Because there’s no way he, Trafalgar Law, could catch feelings for someone. He knew the day would come when he would eventually find someone and harbor feelings. But he didn’t expect it to be you, someone already dear to him.

• Well, he’s glad it was you. Since Law is a terrifying ex-warlord, supernova pirate, it would be extremely hard for him to have feelings for a civilian. Heck, he wouldn't even let himself, nor his crew, get close enough to a random person. It’s too risky.

• So he has feelings for you. Now what? He would be in full denial mode. He will deny it and will push you away. He’s angry and afraid of the connection blossoming between you two. Having lost so many people, from his own family and country to Corazon, his acknowledgment of his feelings would take a while. If he does stop pretending to be blind to his own emotions, a confession from him will be very unlikely. He’s taking this to his grave and no one can possibly know about it.

• His crew knows. Specifically, Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. Bepo would for sure know about it first, then tell the other two about his assumption. Shachi and Penguin would quickly agree and start planning.

"Operation: get Law some game!"

• Law would be so annoyed if they knew because, first of all, only he has to know it. Second, what happens if you knew, huh? That aside, his advances towards you would be so awkward and… peculiar.

• Shachi and Penguin probably saw "Medical pick-up lines for your babe!" and gave it to Law.

• "Erythema is red. Cyanosis is blue. I get apneic when I see you!"

• Oh Law, please don't let them bring out the medical pick-up lines. He would handle the flirting himself but damn, why is it so hard now that he likes you? His smoothness is still there, but eye contact and your smile can easily break his cool.

• Speaking of your smile, Law is enchanted by it! Not only that, but by your eyes too. It doesn’t matter if the color is dark brown or blue, as long as he feels the sincerity and affection behind it, he would be head over heels. Imagine, Law getting flustered at your pretty eyes fluttering (*≧ω≦)

• He would be so soft for you and don’t take advantage of it. Just bring out your best puppy eyes and he will do anything for you (but you will hear a quiet grumble). His weakness is cute things, and if you’re someone with a face leaning on the cutesy side, then congratulations! You have Trafalgar Law wrapped around your finger. Joking, but it would really be such an advantage if you’re cute.

• Plus, he’s overprotective of you. Really, really protective. His possessiveness and protectiveness show whenever you’re in danger. Law would definitely not put you on the front lines when a battle happens. This is for your own safety, and he doesn't care if you hate him for it. He trusts your abilities, but there are enemies out of your league, especially in the New World.

• You nearly dying can push him to suddenly blurt out his feelings. It would be really random and subtle; you won’t even realize it at first. Him too, he would do it unintentionally since his emotions controlled his mouth.

• There are other ways he can confess; he would much prefer it if it was spontaneous though because thinking too much about it makes him nervous. However, he still plans ahead of time what to say to you. It wouldn’t be extravagant. Maybe a few simple words then he’s out. But...

— Words can’t describe what he’s feeling.

• No amount of words can truly convey the overwhelming emotion drowning his torn heart. He takes Y/N's hand in his and slowly moves it to where his heart resides. His heartbeat quickens with each passing second, his breath picking up pace while his eyes search theirs for the familiar beauty that entices him.

— "All of this… it’s because of you."

© jellicatty | no plagiarising please (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[revelboo]

The question has to be asked. For every human they suddenly find on the lost light. Does brainstorm get smacked for it? I think it'd be funny if a count was kept like that

(Juat smth stupid that I'm giggling over while goofy on sleep meds)

He really should be smacked for every “surprise, here’s a human”

My Way Pt 3

Brainstorm x Reader

• “See? I’m already better at this than half the crew,” he calls out to Perceptor as you just stare at him with wide eyes. Maybe you’re defective and can’t vocalize? “You know, these things are kind of cute in an ugly way.” Can feel the frantic beat of your heart against his servos and honestly, he doesn’t get the obsession. Why fuss over and dote on these weird, little organics? Oh. You’re making a noise now. Kind of a high pitched wheezing.

• Frozen as the giant monster talks about you to the other monster like you’re not even there, he glances at the other one and as soon as those yellow optics aren’t staring a hole in you, the terror paralyzing you shatters. Screaming like you’re being bloodily dismembered and he almost drops you, jarring you into biting your tongue as your heart feels like it stops for a moment. “Your skills are astonishing. I’m sure even you can keep one little human alive,” the other mutters before disappearing.

• “Just had to scream, didn’t you? Look, you appear to be an adult. Probably. So I’ll make sure you have access to food and water and you don’t embarrass me,” he growls, watching you wince and touch your mouth. “That was embarrassing me, by the way.” And you’ve still got a hand over your mouth. Did you hurt yourself? How? Those tiny teeth look blunt. Venting, he carries you back to his habsuite and pulls a slightly used cleaning cloth from his subspace, putting you down and dropping it on top of you. Watching you struggle free before your wide eyes dart around and land on the vent. Can he be held accountable if you get in there? Probably. “I wouldn’t. Unless puréed by a fan is how you want to go out.”

• Shivering as the giant walks past you and sits at a desk, apparently wholly unconcerned about you crawling into the vent to purée yourself anyway despite his warning. And it occurs to you that you really don’t want to be on the floor considering how big he is. Especially his peds. Feeling like a toddler, you edge closer to him, head tipped back to study him. If he meant to hurt you, he would have by now, right? You’re pretty sure he’d only almost dropped you because you’d screamed in his face. If there are more giant monsters, you need to at least buddy up to one of them for safety. Right? “Can I not be on the floor? Please?”

• So you can talk. Leaning to look down at you, he reaches out a hand and you shy away. “You want up here?” Looking miserable, you come closer and climb into his hand and it’s so disconcerting how tiny and breakable you are. Making him feel almost bad about the one Whirl has. How has it survived this long? “There,” he murmurs, lifting you to his desk and tipping his hand to get you to slide out of his palm, because you’re unsettlingly soft and warm. “If you eliminate on my desk, I’ll put you in the vent myself,” he adds as you just stare up at him. Ugly cute. “I’m Brainstorm by the way. Just sit there and don’t touch anything while I work.” Pulling up a schematic he’d been working on, because designing weapons calms him and right now his processor is a mess. No getting back to recharge until he works off the nervous energy. Didn’t want or need a human. What good are you anyway except to get in the way? Servos stilling when you wander closer, staring up at him, little expression serious. “What? Blinded by how handsome I am?” And still frowning up at him, you wrinkle your nose and shake your head. Okay, that’s just hurtful.

Previous

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I apologize in advance if anything else I post today is badly in need of editing. In my defense, the grocery store had my wine in stock for once

[0o-junebug-o0]

Hii can we please get an Emily Prentiss with a fem reader with something to do with strip poker? :)

Love your fics sm!!

Strip Poker

Here you go, my love! And thank you! Also, I learned how to play texas hold 'em from a hermitcraft video haha

genre: fluff

cw: suggestive 16+! kinda fem! kinda gn!reader (reader's gender is not specified but is described as having breasts and wearing a bra), strip poker, getting together, kinda fade to black smut

wordcount: 1.9k

“Wanna play poker?”

You turn to look at Emily. She’s lounging against the arm of her couch and watching you with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smile.

“You better not be like Reid,” you warn.

She laughs. “No, no. Don’t worry. I’m good, but I can’t count cards.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you trying to trick me out of? I don’t have any cash.���

“So does that mean you want to play?”

You shrug. “Sure. I don’t know what we would bet though.”

“We could play strip poker,” she says simply, like it’s no big deal at all.

Your eyes widen and you can feel your face warm. “Seriously?”

Emily shrugs. “We don’t have to, of course,” she says nonchalantly. “But, yeah, seriously.”

You swallow hard as you try to wrap your head around Emily’s proposal. Strip poker. With Emily. With the woman you’ve had a crush on for over a year. The thought seems almost too good to be true. You find yourself nodding and Emily’s eyes light up.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty as she pushes herself off the couch and leaves to grab a deck of cards. But she suggested it. It was her idea. It’s not like this was an elaborate plan on your behalf to see her naked.

Figuring it would be easier to play on a flat surface, you slip off the couch and onto the floor, crossing your legs beneath you and leaning back against the base of the couch. You pick at your fingernails nervously as Emily returns waving a deck of cards triumphantly.

She sits on the floor in front of you, leaving about a foot of space, and slips the cards from the pack. “What kind of poker do you want to play?” she asks, shuffling the cards with an ease you find insanely attractive.

“I only know Texas Hold ‘Em,” you admit nervously.

Emily nods and shuffles the cards again. “We’ll play that then. I’ll teach you another variant some other time.”

You haven’t even started to play, but your cheeks warm at the thought of doing this again. 

“No blinds, obviously,” Emily says.

You nod in agreement.

“We’ll bet an item of clothing and the other person can call to match the amount or raise by adding another item.” she continues. “You lose a hand, you lose the clothes you bet. And that includes folding unless it’s right off the bat.”

You nod again, too flustered to come up with any words.

“Alright,” Emily says, dragging out the word as she deals two cards facedown to herself and you.

You pick up your cards. Queen of spades and two of clubs. Not a great hand, but a queen high isn’t horrible.  “I-I’ll bet my shirt,” you mutter.

Emily nods. “I will as well,” she responds, taking three cards off the top of the deck and laying them out between you. Eight of hearts, eight of clubs, and 3 of spades. 

You glance up to see Emily watching you with an indecipherable expression. You can feel your heart rate pick up and you fight the urge to lower your gaze, staring right into her eyes instead. She smiles. “Do you want to raise?” she asks.

“No, I’m good.”

“You ready for the next card?”

You hum in affirmation and she takes the top card from the deck and sets it next to the others. Two of diamonds. You feel a bit of relief at the thought that you might not be the first to begin undressing.

Emily pauses for a moment to give you a chance to raise, and when you don’t she takes the next card from the deck and sets it down to reveal the six of diamonds. “Ace high,” she says, lowering her hand for you to see.

You smirk at her and flip your cards. “Two pair.”

Emily laughs and tilts her head in acknowledgment. She sets her cards down and curls her fingers under the hem of her shirt. Your breath hitches as she slowly starts to lift her shirt, revealing first her toned stomach and then the black bra that perfectly supports her breasts. Her eyes stay locked on yours the entire time. She finally pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it aside and you have to fight the urge to stare. She’s absolutely gorgeous and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Emily reaches out and rests her hand on your knee, making you jump slightly. “You alright?” she asks sweetly.

You find yourself nodding before you can even properly process her question. She smiles at you and your stomach feels like it does a backflip.

“Ready for the next hand?” she asks, picking up all the cards and shuffling them.

You nod again. It’s like her beauty has rendered you incapable of coherent thought, much less speech. Emily deals the cards and you look to see that you have a six of hearts and a seven of clubs. With some luck, you might end up with a straight and get to see Emily take off another piece of clothing. You blink hard to drag yourself back to reality as Emily says, “I bet my socks.”

You look down at your hand again. “I’ll bet my shirt.”

Emily raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back. Your nerves are quickly starting to shift into excitement. She sets the next three cards down. Ace of hearts, 10 of spades, and jack of clubs.

“I’ll raise my belt,” Emily says. You look up at her to see a cocky expression on her face. The flop gives the chance for a straight, though you doubt she has both a queen and a king, if she already had a straight she’d be raising way more than just her belt. She might have one of them. Or maybe she’s bluffing.

“I’ll match with my belt.”

Emily deals out the turn. A five of diamonds. 

“I raise my pants.”

Your head shoots up and you stare at Emily with wide eyes. Maybe she does have a king and queen. You try to read her, but her expression is the same slight cockiness and self-satisfaction it’s been the whole game. You look back and forth between your hand and the community cards. 

“I fold.”

Emily smiles wide and you hand her your cards face down for her to shuffle back into the deck with the others. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before beginning to unbuckle your belt. Emily’s eyes seem practically glued to your hands as she shuffles the cards. The metal of the buckle clinks as you pull your belt through the loops of your pants and set it off to the side. You lock eyes with Emily as you hook your fingers under your shirt and her hands go still. 

You smirk, pleased to see that you seem to have the same effect on her that she has on you. Taking a leaf from her book, you maintain eye contact as you slowly remove your shirt, and by the time it’s gone and you’re just in your bra, you can see the blush on her cheeks. The realization that she’s enjoying this just as much as you starts a fire burning in your gut and you start to think that maybe Emily wants you too.

She opens and closes her mouth for a moment, before lowering her gaze back to the cards and shuffling them again. “You’re beautiful,” she says softly.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Th-thank you,” you stutter, taken aback. “You are too.”

She lifts her head slightly and smiles at you softly before handing out the cards. Seven of hearts and king of spades. Emily hums as she looks at her cards. 

“I’ll, um, I’ll bet my socks,” you say. Now that you’re both shirtless, you can feel the excitement curling in your chest. You want to see more of her. 

Emily nods. “I’ll bet my belt.”

She lays down a four of clubs, nine of spades, and a king of clubs. You smile confidently. The flop doesn’t lend itself to anything good so you feel you have a good chance with a pair of kings. Even if Emily has a four, as long as another one isn’t played in the turn or river, you’ll win.

“You gonna raise?”

You think for a moment before shrugging. You might as well. “I’ll raise my pants.”

Emily’s face flushes. “I’ll match with my own.”

Neither of you raises the bet as an ace of hearts and eight of clubs are played. When the hand is over, you smirk at her, feeling confident in your victory. You set your cards face up on the floor. Emily laughs and does the same. Your jaw drops. She has a four of spades and a four of hearts.

“You forgot about three of a kind, didn’t you?”

You stare at her in shock. “I—yeah,” you admit. “I thought for sure I had you.”

“That’s what you get for being cocky,” Emily teases with a laugh.

You scowl playfully and stick out your tongue. You quickly tug off your socks and toss them to the side before climbing to your feet. Emily’s gaze follows you as you stand, watching the movement of your fingers as you undo your pants. You can see the way her chest heaves with each breath as she watches you slowly push your jeans off your hips.

You bend over seductively, giving her a good view up your bra as you slide your pants down your legs. You swear you can hear her breath hitch. Once free of your jeans you toss them off to the side and sit back down with your legs crossed in a way that leaves your underwear exposed. 

Emily lowers her gaze and quickly reshuffles and deals the cards. The round passes quickly and you can tell she’s distracted. She jumps straight to betting her pants and you match with your bra, then she loses with a jack high to your pair of threes. She practically jumps to her feet and without removing her belt, pushes her pants down.

The sight of her underwear makes your face burn. They’re a pair of small black boyshorts that hug her ass perfectly as she bends over, forcing you to struggle between choosing to look there or at her breasts. Either way, she’s gorgeous. 

She tosses her pants to the side and, instead of sitting back down where she was, she closes the gap between you and lowers herself to sit on your lap. Your arms shoot up in surprise, your hands hovering over her skin, unsure if you’re allowed to touch. You can hear your pulse rushing in your ears.

Emily drapes her arms around the back of your neck and stares at you for a moment. You stare back with wide eyes and your mouth parted slightly in shock. She brushes her hand over your cheek and you swear your heart skips a beat. 

“You can touch me, sweetheart,” she whispers.

You nod desperately and immediately your hands find her hips. “I-is this really happening?” you breathe, unable to wrap your head around it.

“If you want it to.”

You nod again, just as desperately. “Yes, God, yes. I’ve wanted you for so long,” you gasp weakly.

Emily smiles softly at you. “I have as well.” Her gaze drops from your eyes to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You think the way your hand immediately slides into her hair and presses her lips against yours is answer enough.

_____

REQUESTS ARE (temporarily) CLOSED!

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[marvelouslizzie]

"Not a study date"

Summary: You have the biggest crush on Bucky Barnes but despite all your efforts, he doesn’t seem to notice you. Can one study date change it all?

Pairing: College Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, idiots in love, study date, misunderstandings, jealousy, language, oral sex (male and female receiving), protected sex, praise, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 6.4K

A/N: I really wanted to write a College!Bucky Barnes story and this is it. It’s full of foolishness, miscommunication, and jealousy with a happy ending. This means it’s basically smut with a little bit of plot. I hope you enjoy it and if you do please give some kind of feedback. Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message me. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

Nothing seems to change whenever you visit your best friend's ex-boyfriend Sam Wilson. That sounds weird every time you remember Michelle dated him but things are just fine between them since it was Michelle who just decided to change schools and they ended things on friendly terms. He’s a good friend and really fun to play games with since he’s a sore loser but most importantly he’s your only connection to Bucky Barnes. 

God, that sounds so wrong. Like you are only friends with him just to be closer to Bucky, that’s definitely not the case but you can’t deny Bucky is one of the reasons you are visiting him so often. You like that Bucky secretly watches you two while you are playing games and celebrates your every victory. You know he just loves to annoy Sam but it makes you so happy every time he joins your efforts to brag about winning but that’s mostly it. 

You tried really hard to find some common interests with Bucky so you two can chat. He likes games, he loves reading books and you have a couple of classes together. You have a lot of things in common but nothing sticks for long when you are trying to have a conversation with him. You are not sure if it’s because he’s totally uninterested in you or you are just horrible at flirting. This doesn’t stop you from trying though. 

That’s why you are at Sam and Bucky’s place. Once again you found a reason to stop by and maybe because he has had enough of you, Bucky makes a comment that you did not expect.

“I’m starting to think you have a crush on Sam.”

“What?” The shock you feel is so hard to explain. You how no idea how surprised you sound.

“Well, you are here nearly every day.” Bucky tries to explain his thought process, already sounding awkward because of your reaction.

“Eww, no.” 

“What do you mean eww no?” Sam sounds offended.

“You are my best friend’s ex-boyfriend.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and?” God, does Sam thinks that way, too? You thought you two had an understanding. “You dated my best friend. You are like a brother to me. Of course, I’m gonna say eww.”

“Oh, some kind of girl's code, huh?” Bucky somehow sounds relieved but you don’t notice it’s because of your response.

“Great answer, bub. I was testing you.” Sam’s offended tone instantly disappears.

“Were you?” Bucky questions him before you can. “You sounded really offended to me.”

“Part of my talent.”

The conversation quickly changes into something else but Bucky’s observation sticks with you. Bucky thinking you might have feelings for Sam leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You are here to see him, day after day, and all this time he thought you just came to see Sam. Either he’s blind or you are just not good at showing your intentions. And then there’s a third option that you don’t even wanna think about: He noticed exactly who you are here for and decided to ignore it so he doesn’t have to reject you. Either way, it hurts. 

You consider canceling your study session with Bucky. It’s just gonna be awkward to sit next to him and try to focus on the notes. Plus, you are sure studying alone will be more efficient. No distractions at all.

“About our studying session…” You start to speak before leaving with the intention to cancel your plans.

“Oh yeah, you are still coming, right?” Bucky’s whole face lights up. It’s hard not to see it. He seems excited. “I convinced Faye to share her notes with me. You know how great her notes are. It’s already guaranteed that we will get an amazing score.”

Oh, that’s why he’s excited. Because he used his charm and managed to convince Faye to share her notes. She doesn’t do that often, if ever. She knows how precious her notes are and he’s right. That is literally your golden ticket to get a great score. 

“I was gonna ask if you still want to study together.”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I?” He sounds confused.

“I don’t know.” You sound unsure. “Maybe you are tired of me since I’m always around.”

“Oh, come on! I was just joking.” He quickly responds. “You always come here to spend time with Sam. We never hang out just the two of us.”

He’s right. He always stays away from you. Only making comments from far away. Maybe you should’ve taken that as a sign.

“This is not hanging out, either. It’s just studying together.” 

He shrugs and you miss the disappointed expression that passes his face.

“Just come, okay? I promise it will be worth it.”

“Ugh, I’m glad I won’t be here. You two are insufferable. It’s just a study date. No big deal.” Sam can’t help but comment on your conversation.

“It’s not a date.” You and Bucky say at the same time. You look at him, feeling disappointed but try to hide it as much as you can.

“Whatever you say,” Sam raises both of his hands in defense but doesn’t seem like he believed you.

*

This was definitely a bad idea. It’s been a while since you two started studying and you did not understand a word. Not because Faye’s notes are bad. Nope, they are perfect but you can’t seem to focus on the words. The only thing you can focus on is Bucky’s smell. You try really hard not to check him out and it’s relatively easier since he’s sitting close to you but his smell… God, that’s so distracting. You have no idea what exactly it is. It seems like a mix of his own smell, the perfume he uses, and a bit of a sweat. You should be disgusted by the thought of sweat but all you want to do is get closer to him.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. This is just a silly crush, nothing more. You can just focus on the notes and learn something useful before the exam. You can do that, right? While you try to read the same sentence for the 19th time, Bucky takes his phone and starts to type something. The idea of him texting someone else while studying with you is so irritating but there’s nothing you can do about it. This is just a stupid study session for him. You push your chair to the back, thinking about getting a glass of water.

“I’m gonna get-” When you notice the awkward expression on Bucky’s face you stop talking. Before he can cover it, you notice the reason he’s looking so uncomfortable. His erection is impossible to hide in those gray shorts he’s wearing. 

“It’s not what you think.” He immediately responds while trying to hide his erection but there’s no way he can tuck it in while you are staring at him.

“Are you really sexting with someone while we are studying?” That’s the first thing that comes to your mind and you can’t keep that thought to yourself. 

“What? No!”

“I mean… it’s alright. You can see or talk to whoever you want but…” It’s so hard to collect your thoughts and turn them into meaningful sentences while your mind is running miles in seconds. It feels so humiliating and not because of the erection. The thought of him sexting someone right next to you… while you tried to get his attention all this time… It just stings.

“What the fuck?” He sounds completely shocked. “I’m not sexting anyone. Why would you even think that?”

“Why else would you get an erection in the middle of studying?” You really can’t think of any other possibilities. Plus he’s still holding his phone. “It’s fine.”

He says your name in a way he never did before. “I’m not seeing anyone. I’m not sexting with anyone. I texted Sam and then I was googling a word I saw in Faye’s notes because I have no idea what it means and I thought it would help me calm down.”

“Oh.” That’s completely unexpected. Then why did he get an erection out of the blue?

“I’m so sorry. I really didn’t want you to find out like this. God! It’s so embarrassing.” His words don’t make sense to you. What is he trying to say?

“Find out about what?” You try to understand him. “That you get erections?”

“What? No.” Then what did he mean? “I didn’t want you to find out… about my feelings… like this.” He sounds so nervous, even more nervous than you are feeling.

“For me?” The question comes instantly because there is no way that’s what he meant.

“Of course for you. Who else?” 

“Wait, wait, wait.” You finally put two and two together. “You just got an erection, because of me?”

“Ihm…” You can’t help but notice how awkward he sounds. “Yeah… I’m really sorry. I’m so ashamed.” He covers his face with both of his hands for a second. Then he continues. “I really didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I swear I’m not a creep. You just smell… so good.”

“You just got an erection because you have feelings for me?” You are sounding like a stuck record at this point but you can’t believe he really said that.

“Yeah. I was planning to ask you out, tonight. That’s why I was texting Sam but… instead… I made a fool of myself.” The panic in tone is so evident. Your eyes go back to his still-obvious erection. “I’m normally not like this. I don’t know what happened. Please forgive me.”

“Do you want me to help you with that?” You ask without taking your eyes off the outline of his erection.

“What?”

“Since you got hard because of me, I’m offering help.” You slowly close the distance between you two.

“That’s not… necessary.” He gulps. “It will go away in a few minutes.”

You have no idea where this wave of confidence comes from. Maybe because he just told you he wanted to ask you out or maybe because the smell of you gave him a hard-on. You just find yourself gently palming his erection over his shorts and he instantly takes a sharp breath.

“What if… I don’t want it to go away?”

“You’re not… you’re not offended?”

“You are not a random creep out in the street, Bucky. I know you. I like you. Why would I be offended?”

“Wait, you like me?” He sounds like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yeah.” You keep gently rubbing him. He doesn’t take a step back or try to stop you. His eyelashes flutter like he’s enjoying the sensation. “Why do you think I was visiting Sam so often?”

“Not because you have a crush on him?” He asks with a smile.

“Nope, because I have a crush on you.”

“You… have… a crush on me?” It feels like in the span of a couple of minutes, you two changed roles and it’s his turn to feel surprised by your words.

“Yeah. For a while.”

“I guess Sam was right.” 

“Was he?” You ask while you move your head closer. “About what?”

“He said you like me and I’m too blind to notice it.”

“Hmm… Even he noticed it, huh? I guess he is right.” Bucky looks at your lips while you are talking. You can see the idea of kissing you forming in his head.

“Can I…” He sounds like he isn’t sure, yet he tries one more time. “Can I kiss you?”

“My hand is on your hard cock, right now. What do you think?” Your response gives him a huge grin.

“I still wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes, you can kiss me, Bucky.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His lips instantly crush on yours, like a thirsty man who finally found a glass of cold water. His lips move fast against yours until you rub on his cock again. It makes him gasp in the middle of the kiss, and the rhythm is lost. You feel how painfully hard he is under your touch. You don’t know if it is your effect or it’s because it has been a while for him. You would like to know, but you don’t want to ask. Instead, your hands move to the waistband of his shorts. You look directly into his eyes, silently asking for permission. He just gulps and then blinks. 

You always thought he was just distant when it comes to you, but you finally realize it was actually Bucky’s shyness. He gets flushed under your touch, struggling to find the right words. He communicates through his body language, but you want to change that a little. You want him to be vocal if you are gonna have sex. That’s when the idea of sucking him off comes to you. Unexpectedly, you kneel and gently push his shorts and boxers down while he watches you with big eyes. There’s no fear or worry behind those eyes. You see how excited but reserved he is. You want to show him there’s nothing to worry about. While directly looking at him, you start to stroke him. His cock is so close to your face, but you don’t make a move, you only move your hand up and down on his shaft slowly. His breathing shutters under your touch, but he says nothing. He just watches you.

“Is this okay?” You ask, already knowing it is. You just want him to talk. You wanna hear his voice.

“Ye-yeah.” He sounds so breathy. You start to twist your wrist a little, just to change the sensation.

“What about this?” He takes a deep breath.

“So good.” 

Maybe he isn’t a talker during sex. That’s fine, but you don’t want to give up that quickly. So this time, you sit on your knees and take him inside your mouth without any warning.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” His reaction makes you want to smile so widely, but your mouth is full of him. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Why? Don’t you like it?” You ask while pumping him with your hand.

“Just warn me, so I don’t embarrass myself.”

“Embarrass yourself how?” Your question catches him off guard. “I wanna hear those reactions. Don't hold back!” 

He just nods like a good boy, and that makes you smile. You don’t say anything, though. You just take him back into your mouth. This time, he lets out a moan. Your tongue moves around the head of his cock, swirling over and over again until he whines. He literally whines under your tongue and that makes you feel like you won a prize. It doesn’t take him long to grab your hair. He doesn’t try to control your movement or push you. It just feels like he’s trying to find something to hold on to.

You pace up a little, moving your head up and down on his cock while gently massaging his balls. That does it. First, you hear a loud moan that sounds like choking, then before he could even utter a word, the first shot of his come hits the back of your throat. You keep going until he empties himself. While you move away from him, you see his eyes are still closed. He takes a deep breath and opens them just in time to catch you swallowing.

“Oh my fucking god…” He sounds like he can’t believe what he is witnessing. You wonder if no one has ever done this in front of him before.

“How are you feeling now?” Your voice is much calmer than you expect. 

“So good. You have no idea.”

“I might have a little bit of an idea.” You smile while standing up. The hard floor tired your knees so you rub both of them.

“That was just amazing.” For some reason, he sounds younger and inexperienced at this moment. Like this was his first blowjob ever but you know that’s not the case. You heard a couple of stories from Sam, and you know this isn’t Bucky’s first rodeo. Yet, he sounds so affected by you. That directly goes to your ego.

You sit back down on your chair, not knowing what to do next, but it doesn’t take you long to realize Bucky does. He’s already getting on his knees while you give him a confused look.

“You know, that’s not necessary, right?”

“I know.”

“You don’t need to return the favor or anything. I did it because I wanted to.” You have no idea why you are discouraging him to do whatever he is planning on doing. You want to see what he wants, yet you don’t want him to feel obliged or anything.

“And now I am doing this because I want to.” 

He puts his hands on both of your legs, gently pushing them apart. You didn’t realize how turned on you are until this moment. Your focus was completely on him, wanting to make him feel good and you forgot about yourself. You didn’t even realize how wet you are. Carefully, he moves into the space between your legs and pushes your skirt up. His fingers graze over your covered pussy, and you are sure he can actually feel your wetness through the fabric.

“Can I take it off?” God, why does he sound so shy while asking that? And why does it turn you on even more?

“Are you gonna ask my permission for every single move?”

“Do you not want me to?”

“I like it, but you don’t have to ask everything. Not after coming inside my mouth.” You smile after finishing your sentence and you watch how flushed he gets, but you see that he understands what you mean. His hands reach for your underwear and take it off pretty quickly like he can’t wait any longer. He doesn’t touch your skirt, simply gets under it. That’s why you can’t see the first time he licks you. Immediately you move your skirt up to your waist and here he is, buried between your legs. He hungrily eats you out, his long licks sending shivers down your spine. 

“Oh my god!” 

Your reaction makes him look up for the first time. That flushed expression turned into pure hunger. His blue eyes watch every mimic you make while he starts to suck your clit. He definitely started strong, but you can’t complain, especially when you are this soaked. You didn’t even realize you pushed your legs together and trapped him between them until he gently pushed them apart.

“Oh, sorry.” You quickly say, but he doesn’t seem to care. He licks, he sucks, and does everything in his power to crumble under his touch. It’s so intense that you can’t think of anything other than the way he makes you feel. You don’t even notice how quickly your first orgasm hits you. It’s hard and fast. You can’t keep your voice down. No, you moan his name so loudly. If he didn’t come a couple of minutes ago, the way you said his name over and over again would get him hard again. Even with that in mind, he could feel the blood rushing to his dick, yet he keeps licking you until you push his head away.

“That’s… that’s enough.” It’s hard to breathe normally. You really didn’t expect to come this hard. The orgasm is still running through your whole body. 

“Sensitive?” His voice is low yet sweet.

“Yeah, a little.” You take a deep breath. “Just give me a second.”

He does that, but instead of moving away, he puts his head on your leg. After taking a couple of deep breaths, you look at him. He is so pretty like this, looking up to you with big blue eyes and a wet mouth. 

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” You smile. “I didn’t expect to come this hard.”

“Well…” You watch a big grin spreading on his lips. “Welcome to my world. I didn’t expect to come without a warning either.”

“That good?”

“Oh, yeah. That good.” He quickly agrees. “Sorry about that though.”

“Sorry about what?” You really have no idea what he means.

“Sorry about coming without warning.”

“Oh. That’s fine.” You stop for a second. “Sorry about giving you a hard-on.”

“The most embarrassing and the most amazing thing that ever happened to me.”

“Hmm… How so?” You fish for more.

“I don’t… You know… Go around getting hard-ons randomly.”

“Really? I thought that happened a lot to men.” 

“Not like this. Waking up with morning wood? Yeah. That happens, but getting an erection in the middle of studying? That’s a first.”

“Happy to have a first in your life.”

“I never came like this without a warning either.”

“Two firsts.” You don’t realize how smug you sound, but he does.

“What about you?”

“I don’t think I have ever come this hard without… you know… something inside me.”

“Is that so?” The way he smiles just makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. “You like to have something inside?”

“If they know… how to use it.”

“Let’s give it a try, shall we?” 

He moves his head away from your right leg, repositioning himself, and before you could say anything, his mouth is on you again. His tongue is gentle, testing the waters to see if you are still sensitive, but honestly, you are not. You just want him to move a little faster. You don’t say it though. You want to see what he is planning. He keeps on licking you for a while, making sure you are ready for his fingers and when he decides that you are, he slowly pushes his index finger inside. You moan in response.

“Does it feel good?” He takes his mouth off your clit for a second to ask.

“Yeah. It feels so good!” You can feel what he is trying to do. He’s building up your pleasure so slowly, you know it’s going to be explosive at the end. He keeps pumping his finger in and out of you while watching your expressions. 

“Do you want the second one or…” You don’t let him finish his question. 

“I want the second one.”

Your response makes him smile again. You are not sure what makes him happier: your eagerness or your openness. It does seem like he isn’t used to getting direct feedback, but he thrives on it. Quickly, he adds the second finger inside and you can’t help but notice how his thick fingers are filling you. It’s such a delicious feeling. You are so lost in it, you don’t realize how he leans back into your pussy. He nibbles your clit carefully while moving his finger at a steady pace. You can’t help but think he knows what he’s doing and he’s good at reading your reactions. He notices you react more when he licks instead of sucks, so he quickly switches back to it.

“Oh, fuck!” You love how his tongue feels against your skin. Your hands find his hair, pulling it gently just to ground yourself. You feel him moan against your clit when you tug on his hair. The idea of him enjoying it somehow turns you on even more. You decide to test it and pull his hair a little bit more when you feel like doing it. His loud moan vibrates on your swollen clit. It’s like he can’t get enough of it.

“Someone likes a bit of pain.” 

He pulls away from your pussy for a second. When he looks at you, you can see how turned on he is. The hunger is evident in his eyes. 

“Someone likes being full.”

“I’m not full, yet.” You aren’t trying to tease him, that’s the truth yet you can see that sounds like a promise to him. The promise of taking a lot more than just two fingers. He doesn’t say anything. He just goes back to licking and pumping his fingers. The only difference is he’s moving a lot faster than before and you aren’t sure how long you can take this before your orgasm comes back to crush you. It’s overwhelming yet not enough. You don’t realize how your body arches before you start to lose yourself in that pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Words come out involuntarily. “Don’t stop, Bucky. Please. So good. So fucking good.”

He keeps going, keeping that same pace. He wants to encourage you and talk to you, but his mouth is busy giving you pleasure. Hearing you moaning and begging is enough for now.

“Oh, god.” Your whole body starts to shake. It’s like your whole body is electrified. “Yes, yes, yes, Bucky. God, I love your mouth so much.”

He smiles against your clit but doesn’t break the contact. He didn’t think you would be this vocal, but he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Ahh, fuck, ahhh yes.” You moan out while shaking. You have no idea how long this orgasm lasts, but you feel so good. As your shaking starts to slow down, Bucky starts to move slower to match that.

“Mmm.” You knew sex with Bucky would be good but this is definitely how you imagined it. Finally, he moves his mouth away from you when he realizes your orgasm is done. You feel so boneless, so relieved.

“Are you okay?” His question brings you back to reality and you notice your eyes are closed. You open them back up and meet his gaze.

“Oh, yeah, I’m great.” He smiles so proudly.

“Glad to hear that.”

“You have no idea how tired yet relaxed I am feeling right now.”

“Not too tired I hope.” That surprises you.

“Why is that?”

“I thought you wanted to be full.” Then you see his erection. It’s actually impossible not to see how painfully hard he is even though he already came once.

“You want to…” You don’t know how to finish that sentence. You thought you would be done after this. You never had someone who wanted you like this before. The feeling settles into your chest. He wants you. He still wants you that bad after coming so hard. It makes you feel seen and desired.

“Unless you don’t want to…”

“Oh, I do.” Your response is instant. You really do. Even after two orgasms, you feel like you want more. You imagined riding his dick or him bending you over and fucking you hard so many times. You want to know how it really feels. 

“Good.” He stands up, and when his erection is on your eye level, you can’t help but stare. Not every dick is aesthetically pleasing. Some don’t even look like they would feel good, but Bucky… Bucky’s dick waters your mouth like you didn’t already give him a blowjob. You need it inside of you. While you are lost in thoughts, Bucky picks you up from your chair. You let out a small yelp while he offers you a warm smile.

“Just carrying you to the bedroom, doll.”

“Doll?” You never heard him use that nickname before.

“Yeah, you are a pretty little doll. So beautiful and so smart. Very eager and loud.”

You don’t know how to react. A lot of praises combined with stuff that makes you wanna question him more.

“Am I that loud?” You can’t help but ask.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure my neighbors hate us right now.”

“Oh god.” You feel your cheeks getting red, but he doesn’t seem concerned.

“Don’t let that stop you. I wanna hear how good I make you feel, doll.” He gently puts you on top of the bed. 

“Doll.” You repeat, without an implied question mark. 

“If you don’t like it…”

“I do. I really do.” You want to be his pretty little doll and your reaction makes him smile again. “It’s just new. I never heard you say it.”

“Because it is only for you.” Those words cause different a kind of warmth to spread through your chest.

You watch him open the drawer and pull out a condom. He rips the package off impatiently and puts it on with haste. Seeing how impatient he is makes you giggle and that makes him look back at you.

“What’s so funny?”

“Someone is eager to be inside me.”

“Aren’t you eager to feel my cock inside you?” His words take you by surprise. What happened to that shy boy who couldn’t find the word to tell you what he wants? Your shocked look makes him worry a little. He’s afraid that he crossed some kind of line.

“Fuck, that was hot.” Your words sweep away his fear.

“You like that?” He asks while closing the distance between you. “You like when I say dirty stuff like that?”

“Yeah. I love it.”

“You wanna hear how good you are for me?” You didn’t expect that question at all. He moves closer to you, forcing you to lie down. He positions himself between your legs. “Because you are so good for me.” His words make your pussy clench around nothing. You really need him inside you, and he doesn’t waste any time. He knows you are as impatient as he is. He slowly pushes his cock inside, taking his time and being gentle. He moves back and then forth until he’s balls deep inside you and you can’t hold back that loud moan. It just feels so good to be full.

“Shit.” You throw your head back. Your legs automatically wrap around his torso. He leans down and gives you a long kiss, taking his sweet time so you can get used to the feeling of him. Then he starts to move slowly while his mouth moves to your neck, gently sucking on your skin. It feels great, but somehow it’s not enough. So you start to move your hips with him, matching his rhythm but creating more friction.

“You want more already?” He doesn’t sound judgmental, more like he’s amused.

“Yeah. I need it harder.”

“Harder.” He repeats. “My doll needs it harder.”

Before you can say anything, he moves away from you. A loud whine leaves your lips. You don’t like that feeling of emptiness. You want to protest, but he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He pushes your legs up and repositions himself between your legs. Then without saying a word, he gets inside you again.

“Holy fuck.” Your reaction comes out instantly. It feels so different, even more full. Then he starts to move, a little harder than before. Even though he isn’t using much force, because of the angle, it feels much better.

“Is it hard enough for you?” He sounds cheeky. 

“Yes, for now.”

“For now.” He repeats your words. “For now is good because we are just starting.”

You would love to say something back, but it feels too good. The only thing you can do is moan. With every moan you let out, he moves a little bit faster, he grows a little bit more impatient. He pays attention to what makes you moan more, which movement makes you lose yourself, and tries to repeat them. The room is filled with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours and how wet you are. Combined with your moans, he starts to lose control and move faster than before. That triggers more moans out of you. It turns into a vicious cycle until you are panting and begging.

“Please, please, please…” You can already taste your orgasm. It’s that close.

“Please what? Tell me what you need.”

“More… I need more.”

“Be more specific, doll. More of what?” That nickname sends a jolt of electricity through your body. “Do you want me to rub your clit?”

“No, no.” That’s not what you need. “I need you to move faster.”

“If I move faster… I won’t be able to hold back.”

“Don’t hold back.” You say while taking deep breaths. “Let’s come together.”

“Are you sure? It won’t last that long.”

“Try to hold back until I say let go.” You really want to come at the same time.

“I’m not sure if that will work.”

“You can stop anytime if you feel like you are about to come before me. That’s okay.”

“But what about…” You don’t let him finish.

“We can build my orgasm back up. It’s there, I can feel it. Just move as fast as you can and try to hold back. You can let go when I start coming, okay?”

He nods, but you see he’s not fully convinced. He just doesn’t want to disappoint you.

“It’s okay if you come before me. Not the end of the world.”

“I don’t… I don’t wanna let you down.” The vulnerability is so evident in his voice.

“You can never let me down. I don’t care if you come early. I will take it as a compliment.”

Your words make him smile a little. His hesitation is still there, but the urge to please you outweighs his worries. He leans down and kisses you in response. Long and full of love. You realize how much your words mean to him just with that kiss. When he pulls back, he starts to move again. He returns to his previous pace and starts to go faster bit by bit. You can feel that familiar feeling of approaching orgasm again. It’s slowly building up, but when you look at Bucky’s face, you notice he’s closer than you are. You need to get there a little faster. That’s why your fingers quickly find your clit and start to rub. When he notices what you are doing, he groans. His hips start to move so fast, you can’t help but scream. Your fingers combined with his fast pace finally push you over that edge.

“I’m coming. I’m coming. I’m coming.” You repeat without thinking and he knows what that means. He can finally let go. His hands grab your waist, getting that support he needs to fuck you into the mattress. The way he moves makes you see the stars. 

“Fuck, doll, I’m coming too!” Your mouth opens for a silent scream while he starts to come. The way he moans and groans fills you with pleasure, knowing you are the reason behind all of that. “Oh, god.” He keeps moving even though he’s done. He wants you to enjoy your orgasm till the last drop and you do. You let yourself thrive on every last bit of that amazing feeling. 

He finally stops moving when he realizes you are done. He gently pulls himself out of you, making you whine a little, and lays right next to you. You turn to your side, facing him while still trying to calm your breathing down.

“You just ruined me,” he suddenly says.

“I ruined you? I think it’s the other way around, mister.” He’s the one who gave you three mind-blowing orgasms and he has the audacity to say this. 

“I don’t think you understand.” He sounds calm yet sure. “Sex never felt this amazing before.”

His words make you giggle a little but you are aware he’s right. It never felt this good before him and there’s no way you can go back.

“You are a thief.”

“Me? A thief?” Your words catch him off guard.

“Yep, you are stealing my thoughts and presenting them as yours.” 

“So it was that good for you too?”

“My mind is blown. You have no idea.” That gives him the biggest grin. 

“Does that mean you will let me take you on a date?”

“What date?” You play dumb. You know exactly what he means but you want him to actually ask. 

“You know what date.”

“Nope, I don’t. I haven’t been asked on a date for ages.”

He grabs your hand and looks directly into your eyes. “Will you go on a date with me, doll?”

“Of course, I will, with pleasure.” And that makes him laugh.

“Yep, a lot of pleasure.”

“Shit!” You suddenly jump.

“What?” He sounds so worried.

“Our exam!” You completely forgot about it. “We were supposed to study!”

“We still have time.” He tries to calm you down. “Just lie down a little until you catch your breath. We have Faye’s notes, remember? It’s gonna be a piece of cake.”

“Oh, yeah.” You remember Faye’s notes. It suddenly changes your mood.

“Are you okay?” He immediately notices. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. We are lucky we have her notes.” You try not to sound bitter but it doesn’t work. He sees right through it.

“Remind me to thank her tomorrow.” You feel the jealousy build up inside you because you know it doesn’t matter how much you beg, Faye never shares her notes, and Bucky managing to convince her could mean only one thing.

“Yeah, I should thank her too.”

“You definitely should.” He watches how your expression changes after his words and his smile grows.

“What are you smiling for?”

“Nothing. I just love seeing you get jealous for nothing.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“Sure, that’s why you look like you wanna stab her a couple of times.”

“No, I don’t.” You deny it at first, but you can see he doesn’t believe you. “I just… know that she doesn’t share her notes with anyone. She must have a crush on you. Which is understandable.”

“Is it?” He’s still smiling like a fool.

“Are you seriously enjoying this?” You are getting so angry that you try to move away from the bed but Bucky grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him. “Let me go!”

“There’s nothing to get jealous about, doll.” He sees you don’t believe him. “I only have eyes for you and that’s what I said to Faye to convince her to give me her notes.”

“What?”

“I told her I want to ask you out, but I wanna impress you with this study date first. She thought it was a great idea and shared her notes with me.”

“I thought this wasn’t a study date.” You remember him denying it was.

“Well, after everything that happened…” He gives you a look that screams sex. “I think we can finally call it a study date.” Those words give you the biggest grin.

“Can we have more study dates like this?”

“Anytime you want, doll. I’m at your service.”

[velvees-archive]

Some post-SOJ DLC case thoughts about Edgeworth, his opinion on marriage, and by extension, love.

…and how, at the very center of this discussion is one Phoenix Wright.

Contains spoilers from 3-5, 6-5 and 6-DLC

As if the subtext wasn’t enough.

I wanted to share some thoughts about the DLC case and Edgeworth's insistence on remaining unwed, which, from what I've seen, is a commonly employed gotcha moment against NaruMitsu (because all relationships must end in marriage, right? /lh). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really mind. I just…didn’t find the dialogue exchange very damning.

Coming off 6-5, where Edgeworth says this,

I saw the DLC as an extension of Edgeworth's sentimentality, this time directed at Phoenix’s romantic prospects.

To make my stance clear, I don’t think Edgeworth is blind to romantic overtures; he just doesn’t care about them very much. As in, Edgeworth is largely unaffected by and uninterested in matters of the heart (with a concession that he is obtuse when it comes to people expressing interest in him, unless they're Wendy Oldbag over the top about it). But even if you feel he's terrible at sensing romantic tension, my argument still stands. Edgeworth doesn’t care about romance, and we never really see him prying into anyone’s romantic relationships…

…with the exception to this being Phoenix Wright’s.

From Bridge to the Turnabout:

Sorry for the janky screenshots. I didn't didn't take 3-5 pics on my Switch so I had to search for YouTube clips. Let the record show I actually really enjoy Feenris PLUS I love angst, so this interaction was…chef’s kiss.

Assuming Edgeworth doesn't care about romance but he can understand romantic signaling, this is already pretty condemning. Why are you poking around Phoenix's business if you're so uninterested in love? Surely, there are bigger fish to fry, like investigating the Inner Temple Garden because the clues found could be vital to catching the victim's murderer?

Assuming Edgeworth sucks at detecting any romantic undertones, the implications are even worse. You're telling me the guy who doesn't know the first thing about romance somehow clocked Phoenix and Iris's chemistry this quickly? How? For what reason were you able to catch it? How attuned are you to Phoenix's personal affairs?

Now, shifting back to the DLC case, we have this lovely interaction when you show Miles the wedding chapel pamphlet:

Something to note with Phoenix’s “W-Wait. You’re not thinking about finally settling down and getting married, are you?” is that the screen flashes and we hear the damage sound after the “W-Wait."

Once again, Miles inquires about Phoenix's love life, this time after Phoenix asks about his. I've analyzed my fair share of Miles Edgeworth dialogue, and I don't think he pingpongs questions just to make conversation (see: “Say something, Wright. I’m not good at small talk.”). This leads me to believe he was genuinely curious and (subtly) trying to fish for information. And why would that be the case?

My overarching point is this: Edgeworth isn’t as obtuse about romance as everyone makes him out to be (both in-universe and from a fandom perspective), which makes his mentioning marriage plans around Phoenix even more suspicious. The way the scene reads to me is that Edgeworth, in Phoenix’s company and swept away by the intimate atmosphere, lets his interest in Phoenix Wright slip through the cracks once Phoenix shows him the pamphlet. It's sentimental of him and it surfaces—once again—while he's investigating a case. At risk of sounding repetitive, there are bigger fish to fry.

It'd be less suspicious if Phoenix had similar conversations with other cast members he shows the pamphlet to, but it never gets to be this personal, even when he presents it to Maya, his best friend.

Good news if you feel otherwise about my “Edgeworth isn’t that obtuse” headcanon though, because should you believe he is actually just that clueless, you now have to contend with this:

If Miles can’t pick up on all things love, why is he so attuned to Wright’s (and to my knowledge, only Wright’s) romantic prospects in particular?

So yeah. Checkmate, I guess. Edgeworth might not be interested in marriage or love, but he’s definitely interested in Phoenix’s partners, or lack thereof. Take that how you will.

[twopoppies]

Do you know where someone could find fimq’s top 30 (eventually top 120) iconic larry moments videos? Those were like the holy grail of her channel, and unless I’m just blind, I can’t find them in the google drive

Hmmmm. I don't think it's part of that Google Drive or the bunch that were re-uploaded to YouTube. Shoot.

Does anyone have access to these FIMQ videos???

[thelostmagicians]

Shield of a Heart | Harry Styles: Part I

The Assignment

Series Masterlist

Summary: You’re Harry Styles’s personal bodyguard [3.4k]

Fluff, comfort, angst, panic attack, security risks

♡

The scent of fresh coffee and polished wood lingered in Jeff’s office, blending with the faint aroma of cologne. The morning sun filtered through the half-open blinds, casting slanted golden lines across the desk where Harry sat, fingers idly drumming against the surface. He had heard this conversation before. The ticking of the clock seemed louder than usual, a reminder that time was never on their side.

"H, I know you hate the idea of constant security," Jeff said, his tone serious. "But we can’t ignore what’s been happening. The crowd outside the hotel last week? The guy who jumped the barricade at your show? It’s getting worse."

Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls, his gaze unfocused. "I don’t want to be that celebrity, Jeff. The one who walks around with an entourage, who has security pushing people away like they’re some kind of plague. I like interacting with fans. I don’t want to build walls around myself."

Jeff sighed, rubbing his temples, his face lined with frustration. "Then we find a way to make it low-key. I hired someone from an agency that specializes in undercover security. No obvious muscle, no uniforms, just someone watching your back without making it obvious."

Harry arched a brow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Sounds expensive."

"Worth every penny. You’ll barely notice her."

Before Harry could argue further, a knock at the door interrupted them. Jeff stood and opened it, revealing you—dressed in a sleek yet practical outfit: dark jeans, a fitted black jacket, and boots sturdy enough for function yet stylish enough to blend in. Your posture was confident, poised, and alert, projecting a quiet authority that immediately commanded attention.

Harry’s lips parted slightly, the surprise evident in his eyes. He had been expecting someone completely different.

Jeff cleared his throat, his expression apologetic. "Harry, meet your new bodyguard."

There was a beat of silence as Harry and Jeff exchanged a quick glance of surprise.

You smirked slightly, though you kept your posture professional. "Let me guess—you two were expecting someone different?"

Jeff opened his mouth to deny it, but Harry’s expression gave them both away.

"A bit," Harry admitted, his voice laced with humor. "Not in a bad way, just... surprised."

"It’s okay," you replied with a shrug, your tone light. "Happens all the time. People see me and assume I’m a PR manager or an assistant. Maybe even a stunt double on a good day. But I assure you, I’m more than qualified to keep you safe."

Jeff leaned forward, a mix of pride and reassurance in his voice. "She comes highly recommended, top of her class. Trained in multiple combat techniques, counter-surveillance, defensive driving—you name it."

Harry hesitated before shaking your hand. "Right. Of course. I appreciate you doing this."

"It’s my job," you said simply, gripping his hand firmly, your touch brief but firm. "And I take it seriously. I’ll be shadowing you from now on. I won’t interfere with your day-to-day life unless I deem it necessary for your safety."

Jeff let out a breath of relief. "Alright. You start tomorrow."

As you left the office, you could feel Harry's eyes following you, still assessing, still deciding how he felt about the arrangement. You had a feeling this wasn't going to be an easy job, but you were used to challenges.

—

The next morning, you arrived early, determined to start taking action. You wanted to make the house feel like a safe space for Harry, not one that reminded him he was constantly under threat. As you entered, Harry’s house was still quiet, but you could hear the faint hum of a coffee machine in the kitchen. Harry’s team had already started arriving, but they barely noticed you as you moved with purpose. You couldn’t afford distractions.

The first thing you did was walk the perimeter of the house. The gates were solid, but outdated. You noted the number of hidden spots that weren’t covered by security cameras. There was an entrance to the side of the house that led to a narrow alley, and another hidden behind a tall garden wall. You couldn’t trust that nothing could slip by unnoticed.

You took mental notes—doorways, windows, gates, and even the trees that created shadows by the fence. No blind spots could go unaccounted for. After another quick call, you arranged for a full security system update.

By noon, new security cameras were being installed. You had chosen ones with facial recognition, ensuring that only those Harry authorized would be able to get past the front gate. Each camera was strategically placed in spots Harry didn’t even think to look. One was on top of the high garden wall, offering a bird's-eye view of anyone who came too close. Another was hidden behind a small decorative tree in the yard, monitoring the back door.

The most important change, however, came at the gate. You had noticed the gate code was easy to remember, but anyone who had once had access to it could still get in if they tried. The security team replaced the old keypad with a biometric scanner—fingerprint and face recognition—making it nearly impossible for anyone other than Harry or trusted personnel to gain entry. It was a decision made in the best interest of both privacy and safety.

Later in the day, as Harry returned home from a brief meeting, you watched him pull into the driveway. He came to a stop, giving you a quizzical look as he noticed the new setup.

"Okay, this is new," Harry said as he got out of the car, motioning toward the new camera at the gate and the biometric scanner you had installed. He raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t think I’d need to scan my face just to get into my own house."

You smiled coolly. "Better safe than sorry. You never know who might have access to your old codes. This is the next level of protection."

Harry paused, eyeing the scanner, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. You weren’t just a bodyguard anymore. You were someone who understood how to keep him safe. His face softened slightly, but there was still a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

“I don’t know how I feel about all of this," Harry said, clearly uncomfortable with the changes. "It feels a little... extreme.”

You could sense his resistance, but you had expected this. "The changes are necessary, Harry," you said gently. "And it’s all for your safety. Trust me, it’ll feel like second nature soon enough."

You stepped away, watching him for a moment, before giving him some space. You knew Harry wasn’t the type to embrace change quickly, especially when it came to his personal life. But the new measures weren’t negotiable, and you couldn’t afford to back down.

—

That evening, after a brief rundown of your expectations, Harry seemed to nod along, seemingly compliant. However, as soon as he left Jeff’s office, you noticed his quick pace and sharp turns. You felt a shift in the air—the subtle challenge of Harry trying to lose you. He walked quickly, turning corners sharply, hoping you'd fall behind.

But you didn’t. You kept pace, your eyes scanning the area with precision, anticipating his every move. He stopped by a coffee shop, ordering something he didn’t even want, just to see if you’d relax your guard. You didn’t. By the time he reached his car, you were already standing beside it, waiting for him.

Harry sighed, shaking his head with a small, reluctant smirk. "Alright, I get it. You’re good."

"You should’ve figured that out when they hired me," you replied evenly, opening the door for him. He slid in, still watching you with mild curiosity, his eyes darting over your face as if trying to piece together the enigma that was you.

You didn’t talk much during the ride, but every so often, you could feel his gaze flicking toward you, studying you in his own quiet way. He wasn’t convinced yet, but he was starting to accept that you weren’t going anywhere.

—

After you dropped Harry off, you headed back to the office to wrap up the day’s tasks. Just as you were about to leave, Jeff caught up to you in the hallway. His expression was serious, a far cry from the casual confidence he usually carried.

"Look, I know this is only your first day, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up," Jeff said, lowering his voice. "Harry’s stubborn, and he’s not going to make this easy. He’ll try to shake you, test your limits. He doesn’t believe he needs this level of protection, and he’ll resist at every turn."

You nodded, already anticipating the challenge. "I can handle it. I’ve dealt with difficult clients before."

Jeff glanced at you, his eyes softening just slightly. "It’s not just that," he continued. "Harry doesn’t just push back because he’s stubborn. He won’t admit when he needs help, especially when it comes to anything related to his safety. He’ll act like he’s fine, even when he’s not. Just… be patient with him. This is going to take time."

You absorbed his words carefully, already starting to form a strategy in your mind. This job wasn’t just about physical protection; it was about navigating Harry’s emotional landscape, too. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Jeff sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just don’t back down. He might push you, but that’s just how he is. You’re doing good, though. I can see it."

You offered him a small, confident smile. "Thanks. I won’t let you down."

—

The following morning, after a restless night of monitoring security systems and reviewing the updated perimeter, you decided it was time to establish some ground rules. As you entered Harry’s house early, you noticed he was still in his pajamas, a mug of coffee in hand as he browsed through his phone. His hair was messy, and his usual polished aura was absent. He didn’t look up as you approached, but you knew this conversation was inevitable.

"No unannounced outings," you said firmly, your voice cutting through the morning air. "If you’re leaving the house, I need to know ahead of time. If you’re meeting someone, I vet them first. No exceptions."

Harry scoffed, slumping back in his chair as if the weight of the world had suddenly been placed on his shoulders. "You want to approve my dates now, too?"

You met his gaze without flinching. "If your date is a security risk, yes."

Mitch, one of Harry’s closest friends and bandmate, smirked from across the table. "She’s got you there, mate."

The room was filled with Harry’s band and team, all gathered together. Mitch and Sarah were there, along with Jeff, who had accompanied you to the house early that morning. Sarah stayed mostly quiet, watching the interaction with interest, while Mitch, as always, was ready with a teasing comment. Jeff, however, stood firmly on your side. He knew the importance of what you were doing and had already helped arrange the meeting. His presence was a reminder that this wasn’t just about you and Harry—it was about Harry’s safety, and Jeff understood that.

"I called everyone in this morning to go over some new ground rules," you continued, setting a folder of documents down in front of Harry. "This isn’t just about you, Harry. This is about your team too. It’s important that everyone is on the same page, especially when it comes to security."

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond immediately, still holding onto his coffee mug. Mitch, noticing the tension, leaned back in his chair, making a show of stretching. "Alright, boss," Mitch said with a playful grin. "What’s the first rule? Can we still sneak out for late-night gigs without her tracking us down?"

You shot Mitch a look, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Mitch, you’re not a teenager anymore. If there’s something important you want to do, you let me know first. No more spontaneous plans. You know I need to vet it. Same goes for all of you. It’s for your safety and Harry’s."

Jeff, who had been quietly watching, finally spoke up, his voice calm but assertive. "Mitch, she's right. We can’t afford to take any chances anymore. If we’re going to do this right, everyone’s got to be on board with the rules. For Harry’s safety and all of ours."

Harry muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue. He toyed with a bracelet on his wrist, his fingers absentmindedly twirling it, clearly irritated by the restriction. You could tell the added pressure was building. It wasn’t just the rules—it was the idea of being watched, the feeling of someone else controlling parts of his life.

But you had to be firm. He needed structure, even if he didn’t want it. And it was your job to make sure he understood that these boundaries were for his own good. You had to pick your battles carefully, but you couldn’t back down now.

"Look, I get it," you added, noticing the strain on his face. "You don’t want to feel like you’re being treated like a child. But I’m not here to ruin your life, Harry. I’m here to make sure you stay safe. That means I need to know where you are, who you’re with, and if anything goes off track. You may not like it, but it’s non-negotiable."

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. Sarah, always the mediator, glanced between Harry and you. She didn’t speak up, but you could tell she was trying to gauge the situation. Jeff, on the other hand, nodded in approval.

"This is exactly why we need to stay organized," Jeff added. "We’ve all seen the risks. It's better to be proactive than reactive. It might seem over the top now, but trust me—it’ll pay off."

Harry’s eyes flashed with mild frustration, but he didn’t speak up. The rules were getting stricter, and though you could tell he wasn’t thrilled, you weren’t about to bend. His life wasn’t just his own anymore—it was part of a much larger, more complex world now, and everything had to be accounted for. This wasn’t just about protecting him from the outside world. It was about making sure nothing slipped through the cracks.

You turned back to Harry, who was still fidgeting with his bracelet, seemingly lost in thought. "I’ll be reviewing all of your appointments and travel schedules. No more impromptu decisions. If there’s anything outside of the ordinary, you’re to clear it with me first. This includes interviews, public events, and meetings with anyone who isn’t part of your team."

Mitch, always ready to throw in his playful commentary, grinned. "So, does that mean you’ll be approving my plans too, or are you going to let me live a little?"

You gave him a deadpan stare. "If your plans involve a security risk, Mitch, then yes. I’ll be reviewing them."

Mitch raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I see how this is going."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh but didn’t argue further. His team wasn’t exactly hostile, but there was a clear air of tension. They were used to having more autonomy, and now they were all adjusting to the fact that you were calling the shots when it came to security.

As the meeting wrapped up, you found another chance to add more rules. "I’m going to be implementing a detailed daily check-in. If you’re going anywhere, I want to know your exact plans for the day. That means no unplanned stops, no sudden changes of heart. Everything is to be accounted for."

Harry slumped further into his chair, running his hand through his hair. "Fine," he muttered, clearly exhausted from the conversation. "But this better not become a habit."

You leaned in slightly, your voice calm but firm. "It will, for your safety. And we both know this isn’t just a ‘habit.’ It’s necessary."

Harry nodded stiffly, his posture still tense, but you could see a flicker of acceptance in his eyes. There was a silent understanding growing between you two—a recognition that this arrangement wasn’t ideal, but it was the only way forward.

You gave him a small, knowing smile. "I know you’re not used to this, but in the long run, it’ll make things easier for both of us."

Harry nodded stiffly, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. There was something unspoken between you now, a mutual understanding. He might have fought the rules at first, but you had a feeling he was beginning to see the logic behind them.

Mitch shot Harry a teasing smile. "Looks like she’s got you on lockdown now, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. He was adjusting, even if it wasn’t easy. And as for you, you knew this was only the beginning. Building trust took time, but you were willing to work for it. The rules you were setting were necessary. And despite his initial resistance, Harry was starting to realize that he needed them.

—

The next few days passed without incident, but you stayed vigilant, constantly assessing Harry’s routines and the security setup. You knew that with a celebrity like him, the danger wasn’t always obvious, and there would be moments when he’d try to slip through the cracks. He was stubborn, determined, but you had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he tested you.

That night, after another late evening of monitoring Harry’s schedule, you retired to the security room once more. You pulled up a map of Harry’s estate, overlaying it with your notes. Every camera feed was up on the screen, every exit was accounted for, and you had finally established a solid perimeter.

As you closed the laptop, your gaze lingered on the footage of Harry smiling in front of the cameras, pushing through the crowd for his fans. The image on the screen didn’t capture the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes always darted around when he was surrounded.

You’d noticed it before, but now you understood it better. Harry wasn’t just worried about his fans. He was worried about the cracks that formed around him—the way people expected him to be perfect, the endless demands for a version of himself that could never be entirely real. The pressure was immense. Behind that charming smile, behind the carefully curated persona, was a man who wasn’t sure where the public’s love for him ended and where his own fear began. People wanted to be close to him, to see the man behind the legend, but the truth was, they didn’t always know what to do with the raw, unguarded version of Harry. The one who, when the cameras were off, sometimes felt like he was drowning in his own image.

You understood it now—the anxiety that haunted him, the cracks that formed around his confidence. It wasn’t just about the crowds or the pressure to always be "on." It was the constant battle of being vulnerable in a world that only ever seemed to want the version of him that smiled on stage, not the person who carried the weight of his own flaws, fears, and humanity.

Your job wasn’t just about protecting him from the outside world. It was about protecting him from his own vulnerability, making sure that he wasn’t consumed by the relentless expectations placed on him.

As you sat there in the dim glow of the monitors, you couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before Harry truly accepted the help he needed. He had always kept his guard up, never fully letting anyone in. You had learned that much about him already. But you had to admit, there was a subtle shift in the way he relied on your presence. Even if he didn’t admit it, he was beginning to let you in, piece by piece.

You leaned back in your chair, taking a breath. You had your work cut out for you, but it was the job you had taken, and you were determined to make sure Harry never had to face the world alone.

The stakes were higher than just his safety now—he was at a crossroads, and so were you. But if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that this journey would change both of you in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

[ddoralaexplorer]

Chapter one- The Cactus and the Truck

Love is just an idea; it’s not real. Love is a myth— a pretty lie people tell themselves to feel less alone. It never made sense to me that people can meet and stay by each other’s sides. It just can’t be, not for me at least. Going from loving someone deeply to forgetting about them the next day. There’s nothing in this forsaken world that can make me change my mind; nothing can make me think that love is real. And yet, everyone’s obsessed with it. Like being adored is the key to survival. I don’t get it. I don’t need anyone. I like being alone.

Most days, at least.

There are moments— quiet ones— loneliness creeps in. But I’d rather sit with it than chase something fake. I have my books. I have my dad. That’s enough.

Renee, my mother left my dad when my sister Bella was an infant. She didn't even know she was pregnant with me yet.

For years, Bella and I spent holidays and school breaks visiting our dad in Washington. Unlike her, I grew to love it here. The gray skies, the rain, the quiet. Phoenix was nothing but dry heat and blinding sun— miserable. When I was five, I threw the tantrum of my life. I begged, screamed, and refused to leave until Renee finally gave in. She let me stay with Charlie, thinking I’d regret it. That I’d eventually come crawling back.

I never did.

Sure, I didn't get to grow up with Bella. And yeah, sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if we had stayed together. But I don’t regret my choice.

Everything was perfect, my life was perfect. Simple. Me and my dad. Just us.

I never minded being alone. It wasn’t loneliness— it was peace. My dad understood that. He wasn’t the overbearing, emotional type, and I liked that about him. We had our routine, our little traditions. Sunday fundays, as I called them. Just the two of us on the couch, watching old movies, eating take out. I never wanted anything more.

The soft, fading light cast a glow on my bedroom walls, mixing with the crisp scent of rain drifting in from my cracked window. Perfect evening. A good book, cool Forks air, and music humming softly from my laptop— what more can I ask for? I curled up on my window seat, flipping through Crime and Punishment, when a knock interrupted the peace.

“Hey uh, Ves?”

Charlie. His voice was careful, almost hesitant. Weird. My dad wasn’t the type to sound serious unless something was really wrong.

I frown. “Yeah?”

The door creaked open, revealing him standing there, looking— thinking. He had that expression he got when he was trying to find the right words, which instantly made me uneasy.

“Bella is coming to live with us”

It came out fast, like he was ripping off a bandage. I just stared. What? No way. NO WAY. Bella swan— my sister, technically— was moving to Forks? After years of barley tolerating this place? This is my home. My dad. Why now? It’s not fair.

“Is that a question?” I blinked at him, hoping he’d crack a grin, say he was joking.

Nothing.

“You’re serious?”

Charlie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shell be here tomorrow morning”

“Tomorrow? Dad— why are you just telling me this now?” I snapped my book shut, finally facing him. He exhaled through his nose, lips pressing into a thin line before he stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, kid” His voice softened. “She’s your sister. I just don’t want you to be alone anymore”

I scoff, shrugging off his hand. “I’m not alone. I have you”

Charlie sighed again, this time heavier. “I know, Ves. But—” He hesitated, looking at me in that way he did when he was trying to make sense.”You’re sixteen almost seventeen. You keep to yourself. You don’t hang out with many people outside of school. That’s not—” He scratches his jaw. “That’s not normal, kid.”

“What, so now I’m a problem?”

Charlie shook his head. “That’s not what I said.”

“I’m fine, Dad. I don’t need fixing.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ves. I just think it might be good for you to have your sister around.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Oh yeah, because we’re so close.”

Charlie gave me a look. “She’s family.”

“She’s a stranger.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Charlies face Softened, and that made it worse. I didn't need his pity. He squeezed my shoulder again.

“Just give it a chance”

I rolled my eyes, leaning into him despite myself.“She better not bring me a cactus”

Charlie chuckled, ruffling my hair. “No promises.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She actually brought a freaking cactus.

When my dad pulled up with Bella on Sunday, there it was— small, spiky, and cradled in her hands like it was a piece of home she couldn’t let go of. Seriously? She’s going to miss Phoenix that much?

Bella looked different from the last time I saw her— which in my mind, might as well have been fifty years ago (okay, seven, but close enough). Her hair was longer, reaching past her chest, and she’d grown taller. She was pale, beautiful, just like Renee. Me? I looked more like Charlie.

“Vesper, hey”

We stood there, caught in an awkward stare off, until i forced a small, thin smile. She hesitated, then held out the cactus toward me. I took it, feeling the coolness of her fingers brush against mine.

“…Thanks.”

It wasn’t a bad gift, but what was I supposed to do with a cactus?

Seeing her now was strange. It shouldn’t have been— she was my sister after all— but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was intruding. Taking up space in the peace I’d built.

Charlie carried her bags inside as Bella took slow steps into the house, her face flickering with something like nostalgia. She glanced around, taking in the place like she was trying to reconcile old memories with the present.

“Ves and I cleared some shelves off in the bathroom” Dad told her as he hefted another bag over his shoulder.

Bella barely seemed to register what he said, already making a beeline for her old room. Of course.

Great. One bathroom for three people.

I let out a quiet sigh and turned toward the kitchen, not bothering to stick around in the awkward atmosphere brewing between Bella and Dad.

I wasn’t in the mood for awkward sibling bonding.

Outside, voices carried through the damp Forks air, followed by the honk of a car horn. I stepped onto the porch and spotted Billy Black and his son, Jacob, standing with my dad by an old, rusted truck.

“Jake! Billy!” I called out, breaking into a run.

Jacob barely had time to react before I tackled him into a hug, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Woah, Ves!” He laughed, gripping my arms to steady himself.

Jacob was my person. We’d been inseparable since we were kids. If he went, I went. If he jumped, I jumped— whether it was into a lake or into trouble.

I pulled away and turned towards the house, catching Bella peering out from her bedroom window. Was she planning on coming down or just staring at us like some ghost in a horror movie?

Shaking my head, I turned back to the truck, running my fingers along its sides. it could definitely use a new paint job.

“Dad, this is a nice truck” I said, more as an observation than a compliment.”

Jacob followed my gaze but quickly turned toward the door as Bella finally emerged, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. She hesitated for a second before walking up, and Jacob— who was rarely ever shy— shifted from one foot to the other.

“Hey, Im Jacob” he said, smiling. “We used to make mud pies when we were little”Mud pies?

I stared at him. Of all the things to mention, that’s what he went with?

Bella blinked. “Right. No, I remember.”

I stifled a groan, feeling secondhand embarrassment settle in. Was this always going to be this awkward?

Charlie, ever the peacemaker, cut in. “So, what do you think?”

Bella glanced between him and the truck. “Of what?”

“Your homecoming present”

I snapped my head toward Charlie, then at Bella, then back at the truck. No way.

Jacob elbowed me before I could say anything, but I couldn’t believe it. Bella had been here for five minutes, and she already had a car?

I tried to smile, tried to act I wasn’t completely annoyed, but seriously? How was that fair?

I folded my arms and rocked back on my heels, forcing my voice to stay light.

“wow, Bella. Not even here a full day, and you’re already getting gifts. Guess forks isn’t so bad after all, huh?”

Bella turned to me, her brows knitting slightly, like she was trying to figure out if I was joking or not.

Jacob coughed into his hand, failing to hide a smirk. “Yeah, Ves, when’s your new car getting here?”

Charlie shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. “Too late, already started.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, Jake! She just got here, and I’m already being pushed aside.” I groaned dramatically, flopping face-first into my bed.

Jacob chuckled, shutting my bedroom door behind him. “That’s not fair, Ves. Maybe he’s just trying to make up for lost time with her.”

I groaned louder, muffling it into my pillow. “Lost time? Please.” I lifted my head just enough to glare at him. “There’s no way you’re actually defending her right now.”

Jacob raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve had Charlie all to yourself for years.”

I scoffed. “Exactly! I put in the work. I earned it.”

Jacob snorted. “Didn’t realize dads were something you had to earn.”

Ignored him, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t that I wanted Bella gone, exactly. But for almost seventeen years, it had just been me and Charlie. Our routine. Our home. And now, Bella swoops in, and suddenly, everything is about her? Yeah. No thanks.

Jacob, of course didn't get it. Not when he’d spent his whole life hopelessly crushing her. Even as kids, it was always Bella this, Bella that. If anyone should be annoyed by her sudden reappearance, it should be him. But no— here he was, defending her like some kind of Bella Swan lawyer.

“Wanna come to La push with Embry and Quil?” Jacob asked, changing the subject completely.

I lift my head so fast it nearly gave me whiplash. “Yes”

He laughed. “You didn't even let me finish.”

I sat up, already grabbing my hoodie off the chair. “Doesn’t matter. Anything to get me out of here while she settles in.”

Jacob just shook his head, amused, as I shoved my arms into my sleeves.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re just realizing this now?”

He rolled his eyes and pulled open the door. “Come on, lets go before you start writing tragic poetry about being replaced.”

I huffed a laugh, shoving him towards the stairs. I had no idea how much things were about to change. If I had known, maybe I would have fought harder to keep things the way they were. Maybe I would have appreciated that last peaceful day a little more.

Because after this, nothing would ever be the same.

[darsynia]

Ooooooo, kisses you say?

Sam Wilson, Canon compliant, #29

At one point I had 137 words and thought, oh man, will I get this closer to 500 like I promised??

Sam/Reader, 627 words, established relationship REQUEST A KISS

tossing some tags: @themaradwrites @claudette13 @ronearoundblindly

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS | BUCKY BARNES

CROWNED

You’re not one for surprises or pranks. Even before you and Sam moved in together you’d joked that he’s the Truth Fairy, leaving little notes with jokes, compliments, and teasing disses for you to find. 

What makes you suspicious he’s got something up his sleeve? You haven’t found anything in four days, and your devious boyfriend has been giving you sly grins. He caught you lifting up items in the fridge looking for sticky notes yesterday, and now he’s undressing you with his eyes while you carefully vacuum under all of the living room furniture. 

You send him to the bedroom to be ‘thoroughly searched,’ partially because you’re getting distracted by that smile of his. After finding nothing but socks and lint, you put away the vacuum and find him naked in bed, a decorative pillow strategically placed over his crotch.

“Your metaphor’s slipping there a little, babe,” you point out, even as you admire the way his muscles flex with his hands folded behind his head. “Unless you’re implying I’m a very freaky fairy?”

Sam flashes you a blinding smile. “You’ve been holding off looking under just about every cushion in the house. I thought I’d give you a little motivation!”

“What?” you gasp, turning on your heel to head back to the couch. On the way, you notice that there’s a new, palm-sized pillow magnet on the fridge. Sure enough, there’s a note underneath--one praising you for being clever enough to find it.

The smartass even sketched a little tooth on there.

“Sam Wilson, you magnificent asshole, I swear to God!” you shout, marching into the living room. His cackling laughter is infectious, but you shoot back, “I hope you left me a whole bunch! I’m turning down the thermostat so your ass freezes while I find them all!”

“Long as you warm me up after!” he calls back, obviously unrepentant.

You’re barely listening, having picked up the smallest pillow in the room to find two notes, both with the scrawled tooth. That devious devil had numbered and dated them, and the first one was from eight days ago! 

For 30 whole seconds you stand there holding them (‘Your smile makes my damned heart soar’ and ‘I bought the stuff for Sarah’s gumbo recipe you’ve been wanting to make--back of the fridge’), trying desperately to plot revenge, but you just can’t, not before you kiss or slap him silly.

Sam meets you in the hallway, pulling on his bathrobe as he walks, his face concerned. “You got quiet, I wondered if you were bleeding out from papercuts.”

“How many did you leave??”

“If they were teeth I’d need dentures!” He’s cracking up, bent over, hand on the wall. Marching over, you grab the edges of his bathrobe to pull him up into a frustrated kiss--but another note drifts out as soon as you lift the fabric.

To pay him back, you step even closer before you bend down to grab it, with mere inches between your lips and his still-naked body.

It says, ‘You make a damn fine dentist’

Giggling helplessly through your indignance, you bury your face in his powerful chest, peppering it with kisses that reach higher and higher. He’s laughing too, his hands caressing your back, your hair, and finally your neck, tipping your face up to his.

Right before he kisses you, you whisper, “You’re so sweet it gives me a truthache.”

It’s Sam’s turn to laugh. The joy in it follows the two of you into the bedroom again, kissing and gasping and giggling all the way to the bed.

It’s dark out when you slide your hand under your pillow to find one you take with you to the bathroom to read. 

‘You make me feel like a king.’

[pandapetals]

Matchmaker

You and Logan play matchmaker to help set Rogue up with Remy.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

You knew the look of longing when you saw it, and today, it was written all over Rogue’s face as she stood at the large window, staring wistfully out at the courtyard. The guys were playing basketball, their shirts off, sweat gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"Admiring someone?" you teased, breaking the silence and causing Rogue to jump, her face flushing as if she’d been caught red-handed.

"N-No," she stammered at first, trying to recover her composure, but then she sighed heavily and glanced over at you. "Yeah, alright. I can’t help it when Remy has his shirt off." Her eyes flicked back to the window, her expression filled with the kind of quiet yearning you knew all too well.

You chuckled, joining her at the window. "Can’t say I blame you. I mean, look at him." You glanced outside just in time to see Remy make a flashy play, grinning like he owned the world as he jogged past Logan, who was giving him an unimpressed look.

"Then again..." you added with a playful smirk, your eyes wandering to your husband. Logan’s broad muscles flexed as he grabbed the ball, his hair a mess from sweat, a rough, effortless confidence radiating off of him. "Logan’s not so bad himself."

Rogue groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Please don’t mention Logan. It’s bad enough his out there shirtless too."

You laughed, nudging her playfully with your elbow. "Sorry." You paused, lowering your voice with a teasing smile. "Why don’t you do something about it?"

Rogue blushed even deeper, shaking her head. "I don’t know… Remy’s such a flirt. I can’t tell if he’s serious or if he’s just messing around. Even if he was serious, how would it even work with me?" She looked down at her gloved hands, her usual doubt creeping in.

You sighed, turning toward her fully. "You won’t know unless you give it a shot. Trust me, I think Remy’s a lot more serious about you than you realize. The guy can barely keep his eyes off you."

She bit her lip, still unsure. "I don’t know…"

A mischievous thought struck you, and you grinned. "You know," you said, crossing your arms, "Logan and I could help with this. Play a little matchmaker."

Rogue blinked at you, wide-eyed. "You’re serious?"

"Absolutely," you said with a nod, your grin widening. "Logan’s a little grumpy, but he’s got a good eye for people. Between the two of us, we could probably nudge Remy in the right direction."

Later that evening, after the basketball game had ended and Logan had showered, you caught him lounging on the couch, looking as relaxed as he ever did. His hair was still damp, and he had a cold beer in hand, eyes half-closed as if he was settling in for the evening.

"Hey, tough guy," you started casually, sitting down beside him and nudging his leg with your foot.

Logan cracked one eye open, looking over at you with a raised brow. "What’s up, darlin’?"

You gave him your best innocent smile. "You know Rogue’s been pining after Remy, right?"

He grunted, taking a sip of his beer. "I’m not blind."

"Well," you continued, trying to sound nonchalant, "I was thinking we could… help them out. Give ‘em a little push."

Logan raised an eyebrow, setting his beer down on the coffee table. "Help them out? How? By what? Playin' Cupid?"

You grinned. "Exactly."

Logan stared at you for a moment, completely unamused. "No."

"Oh, come on," you pressed, leaning in closer. "Rogue’s a sweetheart, and she deserves someone good in her life. You’ve got that big soft heart under all those layers of gruffness. You’d be a great matchmaker!"

Logan grumbled something under his breath, his expression hardening. "I ain't no matchmaker. That's your department."

"But you’ve got the perfect in," you insisted. "You and Remy play cards together all the time. You just have to, you know, mention how Rogue’s been asking about him. Or how you think they’d make a good couple."

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "You really think Gambit’s gonna listen to me ? The guy thinks he’s God’s gift to women. He doesn't need advice from some ‘old man,’ as he calls me."

You smirked. "I think you underestimate your influence, Logan. You have a lot of wisdom from being old—older. I mean you do act old sometimes."

Logan shot you a sideways glance, his lips twitching as if he was trying not to smile. "I don’t act old," he grumbled.

"Logan, you grumble about kids using their phones like it's the apocalypse," you teased, leaning into his side. "That’s classic ‘old man’ behavior."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Fine. But if Gambit gives me lip, I'm tellin' him to take a hike."

The next day, you found Logan standing with his arms crossed, watching as Remy effortlessly flicked a card through the air, showing off his usual flair. The two men were supposed to be preparing for a mission, but as usual, Remy seemed more interested in flirting with everything that moved—including the wind.

"You got somethin' on your mind, mon ami ?" Remy asked with a cocky grin, spinning the card between his fingers.

Logan grunted, clearly uncomfortable. "Just wonderin’ what’s goin' on with you and Rogue."

Remy raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall. "Oh? You keepin’ tabs on my love life now, old man?"

Logan bristled. "I ain’t keepin' tabs on nothin'. Just sayin'... you and Rogue. Might be worth... y’know, takin' seriously."

Remy’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Logan, you tryin' to give me relationship advice? That's rich. What next? You gonna tell me how to impress a lady with charm and sophistication?"

Logan rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to tell Remy exactly where he could shove his charm. "I'm serious, Gambit. Rogue ain't like the others. If you're gonna go after her, do it right."

Remy looked surprised, his usual swagger faltering for a moment. "You really think...?"

Logan gave him a pointed look. "Yeah. I do. Don’t mess it up."

Remy smirked, finally sensing the sincerity beneath Logan’s gruff exterior. "Well, since you’re takin' such an interest, maybe I’ll see where things go."

That evening, you couldn’t stop laughing when Logan relayed the conversation to you, his exasperation clear as he retold how Remy had called him old man at least three times. "Kid’s got a death wish, I swear," Logan muttered, shaking his head.

"But you did it," you said, grinning as you curled up beside him on the couch. "You planted the idea in Remy’s mind."

Logan looked at you, narrowing his eyes. "I ain't doin' it again, though. You want more matchmaking, that’s on you."

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Don’t worry, you’ve done your part. Now we just sit back and watch the magic happen."

Logan chuckled softly, pulling you closer with a sigh. "Fine. But if they start gettin' sappy in front of me, I’m blamin' you."

"Deal," you said, laughing into his shoulder.

The next day, you found Rogue sitting by herself on the mansion’s front steps, a deep frown creasing her brow as she picked absentmindedly at the hem of her gloves. You knew that look—Rogue was stuck in her own head, probably overthinking things when it came to Remy.

You sat down beside her, nudging her gently with your shoulder. "So, I talked to Logan," you began, keeping your voice light. "And he, very begrudgingly, brought up the idea of you and Remy to him."

Rogue’s eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing. "Wait—he did ?"

"Yup," you said with a grin. "Apparently, Remy didn’t brush it off like I thought he would. In fact, he seemed… curious."

Rogue fidgeted with her gloves, her gaze dropping to her hands. "I dunno," she mumbled. "Even if he’s curious, I don’t know how to make a move. It’s not like I can just... y’know, kiss him."

You nodded, understanding the hesitation. "True, but there are other ways to show someone you’re interested." You leaned in conspiratorially, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "You could always flirt. A little playful banter goes a long way."

Rogue blinked at you, clearly skeptical. "You want me to flirt with Remy? He’s, like, the king of flirting. How am I supposed to keep up?"

"Trust me," you said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "Guys like Remy may flirt with everyone, but it’s different when it’s someone they actually care about. He’s not going to brush you off. And, besides, you have an ace up your sleeve—Logan and I are here to help."

Rogue tilted her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Help? What are you plannin’?"

You grinned, leaning closer. "I’ll give you some pointers on how to flirt."

Later that evening, after much convincing, you managed to rope Logan into your plan. The two of you were hidden behind one of the large hedges in the mansion’s garden, peering out like a couple of high school kids on a covert mission. Logan, who was still skeptical about the whole operation, stood with his arms crossed, grumbling under his breath about "ridiculous ideas" and "not how I planned to spend my night."

You, however, were having the time of your life.

"Alright, where are they?" you whispered, peeking through the leaves, your excitement barely contained.

Logan sighed, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance. "You’re enjoyin’ this way too much," he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest of smiles.

"Shh," you hissed playfully, swatting at him. "Look, there they are!"

Sure enough, across the garden, you spotted Rogue and Remy standing near one of the benches, the glow from the mansion’s windows casting a soft light over them. Remy, as usual, was wearing that charming grin of his, leaning casually against the back of the bench as he talked, his body language open and relaxed. Rogue, to her credit, looked composed, though you could tell from the way she kept shifting her weight that she was nervous.

"Look at her," you whispered to Logan, nudging him. "She’s holding her own. I knew she could do it."

Logan glanced over, his arms still crossed. "She’s doin' fine," he agreed, though his tone was more thoughtful than teasing now. "But if that Cajun tries anything, I’m gonna—"

"Logan," you said, giving him a pointed look. "Relax. This is supposed to be fun."

Logan grunted, his eyes narrowing as he watched Remy lean in slightly closer to Rogue. "Fun for who? You or me?"

Before you could respond, you saw Rogue do something unexpected. She laughed—genuinely—and then gave Remy a light shove on the shoulder, a playful grin on her face. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

"See?" you whispered excitedly. "She’s flirting! They’re flirting! This is going well."

Logan shifted beside you, watching the interaction with a critical eye. "Guess it ain’t goin’ bad," he muttered, though you could tell he was secretly pleased.

As the two of you continued your covert surveillance, you saw Remy pull something out of his jacket. A small, red playing card—his signature move. He handed it to Rogue, saying something that made her laugh again, this time a bit more shyly. You could see the way her face softened, her usual guarded expression slipping just enough to let her true feelings show.

Logan huffed quietly, shaking his head. "Gambit and his damn cards."

You smirked, nudging him again. "You’re jealous that you didn’t think of something cool like that first, aren’t you?"

Logan shot you a look. "Jealous? Of Remy ?" He scoffed, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Please. The last thing I’d do is pull some magic trick to impress you."

"Yeah?" you teased, leaning closer to him. "What would you do to impress me then?"

Logan paused for a moment, his eyes flicking toward you, that familiar mischievous glint in them. "I’d do somethin' simple," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Like carry you upstairs without breakin' a sweat."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, your grin widening. "Well, that does work every time."

Before you could get too lost in the moment, Rogue and Remy suddenly stood up from the bench, starting to walk back toward the mansion. Rogue’s face was flushed, and Remy looked more relaxed than usual, his usual swagger dialed down to something more genuine.

"Oh no," you whispered, tugging on Logan’s sleeve. "They’re heading this way. Let’s go!"

Logan rolled his eyes but followed your lead as you both hurried to duck behind the hedge more securely. You pressed a hand over your mouth, stifling your giggles as you crouched down beside him, feeling more like a teenager than an adult.

As Rogue and Remy passed by, you overheard a snippet of their conversation.

"So, Rogue," Remy said, his voice smooth as ever. "You wanna grab coffee tomorrow? I know a place."

You saw Rogue’s lips curve into a soft smile. "Yeah," she said, her voice almost shy. "I’d like that."

Once they were out of earshot, you couldn’t contain yourself any longer. You turned to Logan, grinning ear to ear. "Did you hear that? She’s going for coffee with him!"

Logan, still crouched beside you, shook his head in disbelief, though there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I heard."

"Mission accomplished," you whispered triumphantly, beaming at him.

Logan looked at you, his eyes softening as he stood up, offering you his hand to pull you up from the crouched position. "You’re somethin' else, you know that?"

You grinned, taking his hand and letting him pull you up to your feet. "You helped too," you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you close.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, leaning down to kiss you, his lips brushing softly against yours. "This was all your crazy idea."

You smiled against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace as you murmured, "Crazy, but it worked."

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. "Guess I can’t argue with that."

The two of you stood there, hidden away in the shadows of the garden, watching the spark of something new unfold between Rogue and Remy, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Sure, it had been a bit ridiculous—spying on them like kids—but sometimes, a little ridiculousness was exactly what was needed to help love along.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lonelier in Misery

Part 2 of Lonely in Misery

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!paramedic!reader

Summary: After you first date with Tim, you decide to keep your relationship from Nolan and Bailey for as long as possible.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

A/N: Titles are hard sometimes. This is one of those times.

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

The morning after your first date with Tim, feigning your continued misery isn’t hard. You miss him already, even though it’s been less than twelve hours since he kissed you and turned your world on its axis. He changed everything, and you never want to go back to how it was before. Now your absent smile and downcast demeanor are because you miss Tim; you miss someone rather than not having anyone. It’s a nice change, but you’re still craving another kiss.

When you arrive at work, Bailey runs across the station to meet you. She pulls you into a tight hug, and you slowly wrap your arms around her in return.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I thought it would work out with Tim.”

“Oh,” you murmur as you realize she’s still making assumptions based on your text from last night. “Right.”

“Don’t take this as a sign or anything, though. I promise I will do better next time! Just tell me what you did and didn’t like.”

“Bailey, you don’t have to set me up again.”

“No, you need someone. I hate seeing you like this. Being lonely sucks, and with our job, we deserve to have a person to go home to.”

“I agree, but a blind date isn’t-“

“You have to give me another chance. Nolan has more friends, plenty that aren’t cops, so I can find you the right guy.”

Bailey turns when the battalion chief calls her name, and you’re left alone again. You’ll have to convince her not to set you up on another date later. The problem is that you can’t tell her why, not unless you want her to insert herself into your relationship with Tim. Bailey is great, she’s your best friend, but she meddles.

You sigh as you pull your phone out. Tim has responded to your good morning text, so you send a quick warning: Bailey wants to set me up on another date since last night ‘didn’t work out’

Tim answers quickly, and his message brings a smile to your face.

Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle all the dates from now on.

While you avoid answering Bailey’s questions, Tim is dealing with his own line of inquiries about the date last night.

“How did it go? You like her, right? I know you’ve met before,” Nolan asks quickly.

“It was fine,” Tim answers.

“Fine… Is that it? I don’t get more details?”

Tim shrugs and repeats, “It went fine.”

Nolan tosses his hands up in exasperation. Tim won’t elaborate, he already knows that, but he needs to know if he and Bailey were right about their idea that you and Tim would be perfect for one another.

“Sergeant Grey!” Nolan calls. “Bradford and I can deliver the safety brochures to the police station.”

“You want to do a rookie’s assignment for them?” Grey asks, his skepticism audible.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah. I know you’re just going to visit Bailey, though, you’re not smooth, Nolan.”

“Never expected to be. Thank you, sir!” Nolan turns to Tim to say, “Let’s go.”

“Why?” Tim asks.

“Because I want to hear from both of you. Fine isn’t good enough.”

Tim grumbles as he follows Nolan to the shop. “I’m driving,” he yells when he catches up.

You’re restocking an equipment kit near the open garage door when a police car parks outside. As you set your gear aside, you see Tim exit the driver’s seat. You smile at him, but he shakes his head just before you see Nolan on the other side. It’s not a friendly visit, then.

“Good morning,” Tim greets. “We are here to drop off these public safety cards.”

“Great. Thanks,” you reply as you take them.

Your fingers brush over Tim’s and you feel the same jolt as when he kissed you last night.

“Where’s Bailey?” Nolan asks.

“Kitchen, I think,” you answer.

He nods to thank you, then walks past the fire engines to find Bailey. You raise your brows and look at Tim, but he just sighs. It’s not far-fetched to assume Nolan gave him treatment similar to the one you got from Bailey.

“Alright,” Nolan calls. He returns with Bailey beside him, and you sigh with Tim this time. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

“What happened last night, Tim?” Bailey asks. “You get to the restaurant, and?”

“She’s not who I expected,” Tim answers. He glances at you quickly, and you immediately decide to play along.

“Exactly,” you agree. “Blind date usually implies that you don’t know the person. We’ve met before.”

“Okay, but there’s no animosity or anything. You get along,” Nolan argues. “So, why’d you leave just as sad as when you got there?”

“Because I was still lonely,” you answer.

It’s not a lie. Neither you nor Tim will lie, but you’re going to answer the questions without admitting that they were right. They’ll never let you live it down if they can take credit for your relationship with Tim.

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t enjoy yourselves,” Bailey says. “But your relationships are your decisions. And I already have another guy lined up that I want you to meet.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Tim winks at you before you speak. He told you not to worry about it, so you won’t.

“We need to get back to the station if you’re done with the interrogation,” Tim tells Nolan.

“Sure, yeah,” Nolan responds.

You wave discreetly as Tim leaves, and your internal countdown to when you’ll see him again resumes.

As you walk out of the fire station after your shift ends, your phone rings.

“Hi,” you answer.

“Hi,” Tim repeats. “Are you off?”

“I am. I’m leaving right now.”

“Then you should come over for dinner.”

“I’d love that.”

Tim texts you his address, and you smile for the entire trip to his house. When he opens the door and pulls you into a hug, you feel complete again.

“Whoa, it smells amazing in here. Are you cooking?” you ask.

“Maybe,” Tim answers. “That depends on if you have any stereotypical views that I can’t because I’m a man and a cop.”

“I think you can do everything and look good doing it,” you reply happily.

“Then, yes, I’m cooking. And thank you.”

You follow Tim into the kitchen and settle at his side as he finishes preparing the meal. Everything looks great, but you’d do just about anything as long as you were with Tim.

“I’m sorry if I pushed everything too far today. I know we don’t want them in our business, but if you want me to stop covering things up, I will,” Tim offers.

“You didn’t go too far. I thought it was kind of fun. Plus, I like being with you, even if we are lying to my best friend.”

“Lying,” Tim scoffs.

“By omission, yeah.”

Tim rolls his eyes but tugs you closer to kiss you. His hands rest on your cheeks and as you move with him, you know that it is impossible to feel sad or lonely around Tim Bradford.

Two days later, you find yourself pacing beside your ambulance. Tim texted this morning, just: I won’t answer for a while.

There hasn’t been anything on the news or the radio channels about big police operations, so you’re left to worry about him with nothing more to go on. You try to convince yourself that he’s just in a meeting or on patrol with someone, so he can’t use his phone, but then your mind wanders to a dangerous situation where using his phone could get him killed.

“Oh no,” Bailey murmurs. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” you answer, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. “I’m just stressing. For no reason.”

“Get your stuff.”

“What? Why?”

“You need a distraction, and John Nolan is my favorite distraction. Tag along with me?”

You consider it for a moment. If you stay here, you’ll just be worried and alone. “Yes, please,” you decide.

When Bailey parks at the Mid-Wilshire station, you follow her inside and force yourself not to check your phone again. Tim will reach out when he can. Someone calls your name, and both you and Bailey stop.

“Hi, Detective Lopez,” you greet when you see Angela.

She hugs you tightly as she says, “Stop, it’s Angela. Especially now that you’re dating my BFF.”

“What?” Bailey interrupts.

Angela’s eyes widen, and she whispers, “I’m so sorry. I thought everyone knew. He told me, so I just assumed.”

Bailey says your name and points at you, ready to accuse you of lying to her and keeping secrets. Before she can, Nolan yells, “Why?!” from somewhere else in the station.

A few seconds later, he walks into the bullpen with Tim following closely behind him. Tim is talking, sternly and meanly, based on his stance. Nolan sees you and Bailey and quickens his pace.

“Bailey,” he begins.

“I know!” she replies. “They’re liars.”

“Why would you lie about that?” Nolan asks.

Tim steps to your side as you answer, “Technically, we didn’t lie. We answered your questions.”

“You just didn’t ask the right questions,” Tim agrees. “Which is part of your job, Nolan.”

“No, no, no. Don’t make this about me,” Nolan argues.

“Wait, so then are you going out again?” Bailey asks.

“And did you actually consider that to be a date? Enjoy it and everything?” Nolan adds.

Tim takes your hand as they continue asking questions, and you wave kindly to Angela as he leads you away. You smile as you follow him blindly. Once he has you away from the bullpen and the endless questions, he stops and pulls you close.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “I’ve been worried.”

“I’m sorry. I got called into a meeting to consult on a UC operation. Everything is confidential, so I couldn’t have my phone on me.”

“I’m not mad. I feel much better now that I know you’re okay.”

“It’s Friday,” he reminds you. “We have another date tonight.”

You nod, and Tim moves his hands, one on your waist and one on your jaw. He dips his chin and kisses you in the empty hallway, and you wonder what did it feel like to be miserable again?

[rainybubbles]

"Dance with me" + 141 x reader

Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Price

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

GAZ :

— Congratulations, Garrick, you whispered.

He barely heard you. Honestly, you doubted he even knew your name. Soldiers, especially those in special forces, rarely paid attention to the cooks unless they wanted an extra helping. At those times, flattery became almost a routine game.

But Kyle… Kyle had always been different.  

He was the only one who gave you a genuine smile when you served him. The only one who would chat with you, arrive early to help in the kitchen, and stay late to clean up.

Kyle had been there.  

In that endless cycle of meals, dawns, and dusks, he remained. So at the medal ceremony, you had hoped, just for once, to step into the light with him, to talk without the barrier of those ridiculous hairnets.

But Kyle was standing there, a companion on his arm, and suddenly, you felt utterly foolish.  

Where you had hoped for a slow dance, it turned out you were just tap-dancing alone.

So, after everyone else had offered their congratulations, you added your own, feeling a wave of shame wash over you, making you sweat. That knot in your stomach tightened as the lights grew blinding, every gaze seemed to pierce through you, and everything felt absurd.

You felt absurd.  

With that stupid outfit that was too tight, a tie that was too blue, shoes that were too shiny. Anxiety crept in and took hold, forcing you into an unwilling dance. Desperately, you tried to calm yourself, to find an escape, a place with fewer people. The door seemed so far away. Your vision blurred. And then…

Fresh air hit you.  

Finally outside, you sat down. Everything was swirling inside you. You wanted to cry. But you couldn’t even manage that, as your boss appeared.

— The caterer is late; get in the kitchen, we can’t ruin the evening.

So you resumed your dance: uniform, hairnet, apron, safety shoes. What you thought was a duet was clearly just a solo.  

Peeling carrots and chopping vegetables, you listened to the barked orders with the other kitchen staff.

The food was enough to satisfy everyone’s patience, and the caterer eventually arrived.

Alone, you scrubbed the floors.  

You were the only volunteer anyway. Searching for crumbs, cockroaches, or dirt, you scrubbed until your knees ached and bled.

— Aren’t you at the party?

Kyle was there. Of course.

— I was.

— Oh, I—

— Don’t worry about it. There were a lot of people, we probably just missed each other.

A lie.  

You had seen him, had even spoken to him. But to him, you hadn’t even existed.

— Yeah, I... Sorry they made you work.

— It’s fine. It’s a nice change from the usual rations.

— Yeah... I guess so.

An awkward silence fell between them, the first one they had ever shared.

— I feel like something’s off, admitted Gaz.

— Off? How do you mean?

— There’s this tension... Did I do something wrong?

No.  

You knew you couldn’t blame him; it was your own fault.

— No, nothing like that... How was the party? I mean, you’ll probably get promoted soon.

— It was nice. There was even a ball.

You knew that.  

You had gone there hoping for a dance.

— Really? Who did you dance with, Garrick?

— A childhood friend. I didn’t want to ask someone I didn’t know well.

Oh.  

So… you weren’t even considered a friend. Just an acquaintance.

— I hope they didn’t get too bored.

— They ended up in the infirmary.

— Oh, what happened?

— I… I’m a terrible dancer, and let’s just say my weight isn’t exactly light when it lands on a foot.

— You broke their foot?

— No, it’s not—

You burst out laughing.

— Stop making fun of me, he said, though he couldn’t help but smile.

— Sorry, but you can hit targets from a distance, and three steps are too much for you?

— I’m just not good at ballroom dancing.

— So what would you have preferred? The Macarena?

— Maybe.

— I can totally picture Price doing that.

He grinned.

— But… if I had been better at dancing, I would’ve asked someone else, anyway, he admitted.

— Asked them what?

— To go with me.

— Oh.

— I just didn’t want what happened tonight to happen, and then we wouldn’t talk anymore.

— They’d be silly to let that come between you.

— You think?

— Yeah.

— So… can I assume you’re not silly?

— Why are you—

Oh.  

— You wanted to invite me.

— Yeah.

— But…

— The dance was mandatory, and I didn’t want to embarrass you. I’d rather embarrass myself.

— Why didn’t you say anything…

— I didn’t have the chance.

— ...Well, I’m not sure I’m convinced. I mean… dating someone who can’t dance? you teased.

— I can do the Macarena.

— Go on, then.

And slowly, in the kitchen, with his phone blasting the tune, Kyle started dancing, and under their shared laughter, you realized this might just be the dance he preferred after all.

_______________________________

SOAP :

Soap gave you a slightly unsteady grin.

— I missed you, he murmured, his words slurred.

You shook your head, watching him struggle to redo his shoelaces with clumsy fingers.

— Johnny, you're drunk, you said, a glint of amusement in your eyes.

— Maybe… but I still missed you. Best roommate in the world.

— I'm the only one, you replied, laughing softly.

— That's why you're the best, he said, giving you a clumsy wink.

You handed him a glass of water, a gentle smile on your lips.

— Drink this, and I'll fix you something to eat.

— That’s why you're my favorite.

— How was your night? you asked as you busied yourself in the kitchen.

— L.T. dared me.

— And of course, you accepted.

— Naturally.

— And got your ass handed to you, didn't you?

— Hm, he mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

He finally managed to sit down, struggling to stay upright.

— You know… I've never seen you dance, he said suddenly.

— What? you responded, surprised by the comment.

— I've never seen you dance. It’s a shame.

— I'm not really the type to go out dancing, you know that.

— Yeah… He thought for a moment, then added, We could dance right here, right now.

— And why would we do that? you asked with a curious smile.

— Because I want to see you differently. To feel you close to me.

— Johnny, you see me every day, you said, laughing softly.

— It’s not the same. This way, I could really see your eyes up close, smell your coconut shampoo…

— You already know all that, you replied gently.

— Yeah, but living it is different. I could touch you, feel your heartbeat, your hands on me… just you and me.

You looked at him for a moment, touched by his vulnerability.

— You’re really drunk, you murmured tenderly.

— Just one dance, he insisted, almost pleading.

— One dance?

He stood up with a bit of effort, swaying slightly but determined. He reached for your hands and pulled you close. The world around them seemed to blur into a haze.

Each step was awkward, each movement hesitant, but nothing could shatter the bubble they had created. To him, this was a precious, almost sacred moment.

As his eyelids grew heavy, he let himself relax into your arms, finding a sense of peace and contentment.

They shuffled in the confined space of the kitchen, their movements creating an unsteady rhythm that was as endearing as it was clumsy. You held him close, guiding his steps with a gentle hand on his back. The light of the overhead bulb cast a soft glow, illuminating the warmth of their shared moment.

The kitchen, usually bustling with the mundane tasks of everyday life, had transformed into a quiet, intimate space where time seemed to stand still.

The clatter of pots and pans was replaced by the gentle rustle of their clothing and the soft shuffle of their feet on the tiled floor. The contrast between the chaos of the night and this tender, private dance was stark but comforting.

Soap’s head rested against your shoulder, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the comforting rhythm of a heartbeat that mirrored your own.

There was something deeply satisfying about this moment of stillness amidst the chaos.

His breathing, slow and steady, was a soothing reminder of their connection. The way he relaxed into you, his body melting against yours, spoke volumes more than words ever could.

As they continued to sway together, you could sense the vulnerability and trust in his movements.

His occasional missteps and the way he leaned into you for support only highlighted the depth of his feelings. Despite the awkwardness, there was an undeniable grace to their dance—a testament to their bond and the quiet understanding they shared.

— You’ll dance with me again, won’t you? he murmured, half-asleep.

— We’ll see tomorrow, you whispered, guiding him gently to the couch.

He collapsed from exhaustion, instantly drifting into a deep sleep, still wrapped in the memory of their dance.

As the first light of dawn began to creep through the window, you moved about the kitchen, preparing breakfast with a newfound sense of tranquility. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the gentle sizzle of food in the pan were soothing. You stole glances at Soap, who was still deep in sleep, his breathing even and calm. There was something deeply satisfying about this morning routine, a feeling of normalcy and peace that you hadn’t realized you’d missed

The comforting aroma of breakfast filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of whiskey that still clung to the air. The contrast between the warmth of the kitchen and the cold light of dawn outside created a sense of cozy isolation. You moved with practiced ease, your actions steady and deliberate, a quiet testament to the care you took in your daily routines.

Eventually, Soap stirred, his eyes fluttering open with the kind of groggy confusion that only a hangover can bring. He squinted in the light, struggling to get his bearings. When he finally registered your presence, he gave you a tired, lopsided smile.

— What I said last night… I meant it, he murmured. And this time, you can’t say I’m drunk.

— Technically…

— Technically, I’d love to kiss you and ask for another dance.

— You stepped on my feet more than twenty times last night.

— I know…

— And you reeked of whiskey.

— …

— Not to mention your snoring that kept me up all night.

— Okay, so I’m not perfect…

— But despite all that, I enjoyed our dance.

— Really?

— Even if choosing Blue Da Ba Dee for a slow dance was a terrible idea.

— That was me?!

— Yep.

— Damn… Let me make it up to you, he said, dropping to his knees in front of you.

You laughed, amused by his dramatic gesture, then knelt down in front of him, running a gentle hand through his hair.

— Alright, one more dance.

— One more dance, he repeated, a smile spreading across his face.

___________________

GHOST : 

The room gradually fell into silence, despite the constant chatter of the journalists on the screen. No one was really paying attention to the news broadcast. Simon was staring at his still fresh cuts, watching the red darken to brown.

— Want to dance? he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You looked up, surprised, then let out a small laugh.

— Dance? Now?

— Yes, now.

He reached out his hand to you. You hesitated, then finally placed yours in his. Exhausted, you let yourself lean against him. Simon picked out a vinyl, and soft music filled the room as they swayed slowly from side to side. He felt your warm breath against his neck, your body seeking refuge in his arms. His hand, still trembling, held yours tightly.

— You’re stiff as a board, you murmured with a smile.

— I’m managing, he replied, slightly offended.

— It’s like you have two left feet. Relax a bit, you added, a playful grin on your lips.

Simon couldn't help but smile inwardly. He had missed that smile so much— the real one, the one that made your eyes sparkle and your dimples appear, a stark contrast to the hollow gaze he had seen recently.

— It’s all over, you whispered.

You wasn’t talking about the dance.

— Yes, it’s all over.

Neither was he.

— Will I ever be able to dance again? you asked, doubt creeping into your voice.

To love. To love again.

A few weeks ago, Simon had returned from a grueling mission, only to find your home surrounded by police. The sight of the flashing lights and the presence of uniformed officers had sent his mind spiraling into a whirlpool of fear and dread. He imagined the worst, his thoughts racing with the possibility that his desire to keep you close had ultimately endangered you. He had feared that, like so many others before you, you might have been irreparably damaged by his choices.

But…

Under the harsh, unforgiving lights of the police cars, he had found no body, no immediate evidence of a catastrophic event. Yet, when he had seen you amidst the broken glass and the wreckage of their lives, you were nothing more than a shadow of the vibrant person you once were. Your eyes were vacant, the walls bore the scars of a recent trauma, and the TV was stuck on a loop, replaying the same game over and over, as if it were mocking the endless cycle of their suffering. The word "Sorry" was scrawled repeatedly, a haunting echo of remorse and helplessness.

.

Simon had understood the weight of the moment. With a gentle hand, he had helped you up from the floor, guiding you through the aftermath with a steadfast determination. He had been by your side for every medical appointment, every police report, and every painful statement. His presence was a constant, unwavering support as they navigated the wreckage of their lives together. Gradually, they began to live together, two lost souls seeking something more as they danced together that night.

A home, a dream, a soul?

No, it seemed they were searching for something more elusive—a ghost of their former selves, the remnants of a life that once held promise and joy.

— I’ll be here for you, Simon said softly.

— Then you better improve your dancing, you retorted with a hint of teasing.

— I promise, he murmured.

If becoming a dance master was what it took to help you rediscover the rhythm of life, then he was willing to dance for you, over and over. For he knew that no day should be spent with a heart broken by another. As they continued to sway to the music, the simple act of dancing became a symbol of their shared commitment to healing and moving forward. It was a testament to their resilience and to the enduring hope that, despite the pain, they could still find solace and joy in each other’s arms.

______________

PRICE : 

The flames in the fireplace crackled softly, casting shadows across the now-empty room. The guests had left long ago. John approached you slowly, deliberately, sliding his arms around your waist. He took a deep breath, letting your unique scent—something distinctly you—fill his senses, anchoring him in the present moment. The weariness of the past two months seemed to melt away as he embraced you. Finally, he was home.

—Something on your mind?, you asked, a hint of amusement in your familiar tone. It was a sound he had missed—something about your tone always made him feel like everything would be alright.

—I missed our date, he replied, a trace of regret in his voice.

—You've been on a mission for two months, John. I didn’t expect you to show up every Friday night for our little routines, you said, your laughter soft and genuine, like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. The light in your eyes, though, told him that you understood more than you let on.

—I could have tried.

—And how would that go? 'Hey guys, hold on a sec, I need to leave for a romantic date with my partner?"

—I'm sure I could’ve convinced them, he said with a smirk.

You burst out laughing, shaking your head.

—Maybe, but I doubt El Sinombre would have agreed.

—Probably not, he admitted, his tone softening as he pulled you closer, But I couldn’t give you those moments that are just for us.

—John, you sent me more than enough money; don't worry about that.

—That’s not the kind of moments I meant, he said gently, his fingers tracing light circles on your arms, the touch both tender and reassuring. His caress was a silent promise of the moments yet to come.

—Oh...

—I love our dates, all those little memories. I remember the day a stray dog pushed me into a pond, or the time you ended up with cream on your nose at the restaurant, He chuckled softly, the memory of those times clearly cherished.

—And which one’s your favorite?, you asked, turning to face him.

Their faces were just inches apart, their lips almost touching, but neither gave in to the temptation. It was a game, a silent challenge.

—Our wedding day, he finally said.

—That wasn’t a date, you replied with a playful smile.

—It was, on the dance floor.

—Oh, that moment...

You remembered how John had surprised you, revealing that he had secretly taken dance lessons for months. That slow dance had transported you, as if the whole world had disappeared, leaving just the two of them, their steps perfectly in sync, their love shining like a star.

—I can’t even remember the steps, you confessed softly.

—Let me remind you, he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The intimacy of his voice and the proximity of his body sent a shiver down your spine, making the room feel even cozier.

With infinite tenderness, he gently took your hands, his rough fingers guiding you with a careful precision that spoke of countless hours spent perfecting their dance. As he began to lead you through each step, humming the tune from their wedding, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. A tender smile lit up your face, and you looked up at him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

—I love you, you finally whispered.

—I love you too,he replied with a sincerity that warmed your heart.

Slowly, the lights around them seemed to dim, the room growing tranquil as the dance came to an end. They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts beating in harmony. The fire continued to crackle softly in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over them as the night settled into a peaceful calm. In that serene moment, surrounded by the remnants of their love and shared memories, they found solace in each other’s presence, cherishing the quiet beauty of their reunion.

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