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vroomvro0mferrari · 2 days ago

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LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 7

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 2.7K

Warnings: None, I think!

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read the entire series, and for being patient with me for this last chapter! I had some trouble writing it, but I hope it's up to standard :) Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 6 | Masterlist

Y/N’s brain was fuzzy when she woke up the next morning, as though a fog had settled over her. The room was dim, curtains ruffling slightly from the breeze drifting through the open space. She felt warm and comfy in the big bed until she realised why – she was cuddled up to Lando again. Her first instinct was to pull away till she remembered the night before. The fight, the club, the kiss... They had kissed. She had finally admitted her feelings for Lando, and he had felt the same.

Her lips twitched into a giddy smile the thought, and if her leg wasn’t stuck between Lando’s she probably would have kicked her feet in excitement. Instead, she tightened her grip around Lando’s waist and cuddled closer, pressing her nose against his back as she breathed in his scent. It was only a few more minutes before Lando stirred, his sleepy confusion melting into a lazy smile at the unfamiliar but welcome feeling of her arms wrapped around him.

“Good morning,” he grumbled, turning over to face the woman, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Hi,” she mumbled shyly as Lando pulled her closer.

“How are you feeling this fine morning?” Lando asked her teasingly.

“Good, you?”

“Hm, me too. Especially with you lying next to me,” he replied, grinning cheekily.

Y/N blushed at his blatant flirting – had he always been this obvious? She tried to hide her flushed face in his chest, but Lando had already seen it. He chuckled softly, running a hand through her hair affectionately. He couldn’t be happier: he had the girl of his dreams lying against him, shy and adorable in the way that made his chest ache. After their moment on the beach yesterday, he certainly hadn’t seen this coming.

“We should get ready, no?” Y/N mumbled though she made no move to leave his arms.

“Don’t want to leave the bed yet,” Lando murmured back, tightening his hold on her slightly.

She chuckled. “Well, I think I’d like some breakfast soon. Don’t you?”

“Don’t they have room service here?”

“Lando,” Y/N tutted, resting her chin on his chest so she could watch him, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Lando sighed dramatically. “Fine, but I’m not doing this willingly,” he complained before getting up.

They got ready slowly, taking their time as they got dressed, talking about unimportant things as they waited for the elevator. They walked to the hotel restaurant leisurely, savouring their short moment alone before they saw the others.

“Good morning,” Y/N said cheerfully as she slid into an empty seat at the table.

“Good morning, indeed," Pietra replied, her smirk giving away her suspicion at Y/N’s unusually chirpy behaviour. “Good morning, indeed. "You're in a good mood. Sleep well?” She asked, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

Y/N, unlike her oblivious brother, caught the meaning behind it straight away, a flush coming over her face. “I slept fine,” she replied quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced at her brother. Thank God he never paid attention.

“How was your night?” She deflected, remembering the not-so-secret kisses between her brother and his girlfriend in the elevator. Max smiled cheekily, placing an arm on the back of Pietra’s chair before answering smugly, “Very good.”

Safe to say, Y/N immediately regretted that question, her smile falling from her face straight away. She cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Right.”

“Any ideas for our last day here?” She continued, desperate to steer the conversation away from last night.

“I mean, it’s rather warm today. We could go to the beach again?” Lando suggested, sending Y/N a discreet wink when she looked at him. Of course, he’d want to – he surely remembered how she’d looked at him yesterday.

“Again? Isn’t there something else we could do?”

“What? You didn’t enjoy the beach? I thought you quite liked the view,” Lando teased, his tone so smug it took all Y/N’s effort not to roll her eyes. “Well, I suppose we could go golfing again,” he continued after pretending to think for a second.

She groaned. “No. I’m not golfing again, especially since you won’t let me drive the cart. Unless,” she added sweetly, batting her eyelashes, “you’ve changed your mind?” Lando merely shook his head, eyes wide as if he’d do anything to avoid that from ever happening again.

Y/N sighed. “Beach it is, then.”

Getting ready for their day trip felt familiar; Lando leaning casually against the doorjamb, pretending to watch her pack her bag while his gaze flitted over her, lingering on the way her cover-up barely concealed her figure. The way his hand rested on her back as they crossed the street, his eyes watching her through the rear-view mirror as he drove – the only difference with yesterday was that they were now… Dating? Y/N wasn’t entirely sure, though. They had talked about their feelings, and that they were mutual, but they hadn’t confirmed where they stood now.

Y/N walked beside Pietra as they headed down the beach in search of the perfect spot to set up. “So, what exactly happened between you and Lando last night? You two seemed very close this morning – closer than ever before, I think. And no more fighting than usual… So? Did you make up or make out?” Pietra said with a mischievous smile as Y/N blushed at her directness.

“Both, I guess,” she mumbled. “But don’t tell Max, we’re not official yet, I think.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, mentally going over the conversation again.

“You think?” Pietra asked, cocking a brow.

“Well, we admitted we like each other and agreed we didn’t want the kiss to be a one-time thing, but he didn’t exactly ask me to be his girlfriend or anything. So… I think we’re dating? Maybe?”

“Look at you,” Pietra said excitedly, “you’re dating Lando Norris! And you made out? I’m so proud of you!” The smile on her face was big and victorious as she squeezed her closer in a side hug.

Y/N laughed at the expression. “Well, if it weren’t for you, I don’t think we’d have gotten together anytime soon.”

“Hm, I second that.”

“Right? Lando’s not good at flirting, no matter how much he thinks he is.”

Pietra looked at her incredulously. “I hate to say it, but I think you were the problem, babe. You’re as oblivious as your brother; didn’t notice he was in love with you for years. He literally told you straight to your face several times.”

Y/N scoffed. “He did not. Besides, whatever he calls flirting is clearly teasing, or just being annoying.”

“Whatever you say... I won’t tell Max, by the way. But just so you know, he approves.”

“He does? That’s a relief.”

“Yeah, I think he told Lando a few days ago that he knew Lando likes you, and that he was okay with it. So, you’re good. Doesn’t mean you should be kissing or touching in front of him though. But I guess you know that, with how he reacts to you being around men and all.”

Y/N nodded, before thanking her. They settled down in a place on the beach not much later. Y/N layed down her towel, settling down under the shadow of the parasol and rummaging through her bag for her book. She was about to open it when Lando stopped her, pulling her up from her towel before she could get comfortable. “Let’s go swimming this time? Please?” He asked her.

“But my book… I want to finish it before we leave tomorrow,” she mumbled with a pout.

Lando’s hand slid down her arm to hold her hand, slightly pulling on it. “Just a little while,” he tried again. “Or do I have to steal it away from you again?”

Y/N’s pout morphed into a sneaky smile at his need for attention before she sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Alright, then.”

Lando grinned at her response, waiting for her to rid of her cover-up. He was watching her intently, taking in her beauty, the way her hair moved in the warm breeze, and how the sunlight lit up her skin. His adoring gaze was obvious, even to Max, and although Max already knew about Lando’s crush on his sister (or rather, his infatuation), Lando didn’t want to provoke him. He quickly averted his eyes, feigning interest in the shells littering the beach, and pulled Y/N along as soon as she was ready, wanting to be away from Max’s prying sooner rather than later.

Once the water was up to their waists and Max and Pietra were far away, Lando tugged Y/N closer, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She reciprocated immediately, holding onto his shoulders tightly while his hands steadied her in the rocking water.

“Lando,” Y/N murmured between his kisses, and he only hummed in response.

“We need to be careful, Lan,” she said when he finally gave her enough space to pull away.

A frown came over his face. “Careful? What do you mean?”

“Max,” Y/N clarified. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to let him in on this just yet. I mean, I’m not even sure what this is exactly…”

“You’re not sure what we are?” Lando asked, his grip on her waist tightening.

“I mean… We never talked about what—”

“We did,” Lando cut her off. “I said I like you, you said you like me, we said we don’t want this to be a one-time thing. You’re my girlfriend now.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned. Her lips parted slightly as she processed his words, and Lando smiled, clearly entertained by her reaction.

“You always overcomplicate everything. It’s not that difficult, Y/N.”

Lando’s fingers combed through her hair before settling on her jaw, pulling her face a little nearer to his. He leant in closer, his lips hovering just above hers.

“Now that’s settled, can I kiss you in public?”

Y/N laughed softly before nodding, pulling him into another kiss – slow, soft, adoring. Her hands trailed up his shoulders, to the hair at the edge of his neck where she pulled him closer, just for a little while.

“So where did we land on the brother problem?”

“You can decide. He’s your brother. If you want him to know, we’ll tell him. If not, I don’t mind keeping this just between us for a bit,” Lando stated, his hand sliding down her back reassuringly.

“I’m not sure,” she said, fiddling with the hair at the back of Lando’s head. “P told me that he’s alright with it, that apparently he told you it’s okay.” Lando nods in response, confirming that Pietra was correct. “What do you think?”

“He’ll figure it out eventually. We might as well tell him now so we won’t have to hide it.”

Y/N hummed in thought, considering the options. “You’re right, so we tell him?”

“Perfect. Let’s tell him after lunch. That gives us a few hours to mentally prepare, and, you know, enjoy this.”

He leant in for another kiss, and Y/N laughed softly, letting herself melt into it before she pushed him away, into the water. Lando looked at her in shock and offence when he resurfaced.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he said, shaking water from his hair before lunging for her. Y/N squealed, attempting to escape, but Lando grabbed her leg, pulling it out from under her. She fell into the water with a laugh, splashing him in retaliation.

– – – – –

Back on the beach, Max was sprawled out under the sun, seemingly attempting to get a tan while Pietra was reading her magazine. When two shadows fell over her, she glanced up, her lips twitching into a knowing smirk when she noticed the poorly hidden intertwined pinkies.

“Have fun?” she asked, her voice light and teasing.

Y/N cleared her throat, quickly dropping her hand from Lando’s. “It was fine,” she replied, her tone casual but her cheeks betraying her with a slight flush.

They rested in the sun for a while, to dry up, before they grabbed lunch at one of the nearby stands. Y/N slid onto the bench of one of the picnic tables, her box of food in hand.

Lunch was casual, though Y/N couldn’t ignore the tension building inside her. She picked at her food, stealing occasional glances at Max, who seemed blissfully unaware of anything out of the ordinary.

To be fair, the situation almost seemd normal, if it wasn't for Lando. Throughout the meal, he constantly leant in close to whisper something in her ear, or he rested his hand on her thigh, his thumb drawing slow circles that made it hard to concentrate. He stole fries off her plate with zero shame, grinning mischievously when she swatted his hand away and teased her when she spilt ketchup on her cover-up. Not to mention, he would lean into her personal space whenever he felt like it.

Lando's confidence only heightened her nerves; he was so obvious in his affection, so unbothered by the risk of Max noticing it. It was honestly a wonder Max hadn't commented on it yet, but he would if Lando didn't stop soon.

When they finished eating, Lando straightened up in his seat and clapped his hands together, the sound loud enough to catch everyone's attention. Y/N closed her eyes and rubbed her face at his approach, already knowing this would not end well.

"So, Max," Lando started, his voice confident.

Max frowned, confused at the sudden seriousness. “What?”

“There’s something we want to tell you," he continued, glancing at Y/N.

Y/N told herself not to worry – Max had already given his blessing, right? It didn't stop her body from tensing up, though. Lando noticed straight away, slightly squeezing her thigh in attempt to reassure her, but it had the opposite effect. Why was he touching her like that when her brother was sitting right there, focused on them?

Max raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them as he narrowed his eyes. “Okay...?”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Lando and I, uh, we’re sort of...”

“Dating,” Lando finished for her, his voice confident and steady.

Max blinked, processing their words, before leaning back in his seat. His brows lifted in genuine surprise as he looked at Lando. “You convinced her?”

Lando chuckled before leaning back in his seat with a triumphant smile. “Took some work, but yeah, I did.”

Y/N shot Lando a glare, her face heating. “Took some work? You make it sound like I was impossible or something.”

“You kind of were,” Lando teased, his grin widening. “Stubborn as hell. But that’s part of your charm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible, honestly,” she trailed off before turning to her brother. “But… You’re okay with it? Not that we need your approval or something, I’d just like you to be okay with it,” Y/N asked her brother nervously.

“Yeah, I told Lando earlier this week. I think he’s good for you, just thought it would’ve taken him longer to convince you of that.” Max shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of his drink.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the hidden jab but let it slide, instead focusing on the approval part, and the relief she felt because of it. She let out a breath. “Okay. That’s good.”

Her hand found Lando’s under the table, their fingers intertwining as she turned toward him, her lips curling into a small smile. “That’s good,” she repeated.

She felt herself relax at her brother’s blessing, as if it was all the confirmation she needed to believe she made the right choice. She glanced up at Lando as he joked around with her brother, watching his eyes crinkle as he grinned, and she realised it felt right – she and Lando felt right.

– – – – –

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hottiesforhockey · 2 days ago

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ho, ho, hoe ⎜m.barzal

🎄pairings: mat barzal x afab!reader 🎄genre: romance ⎜christmas special ⎜smut ⎜friends to lovers⎜ 🎄warnings: mat is in love and not great at hiding it ⎜alcohol consumption ⎜ drunk sex ⎜missionary ⎜p in v⎜pretty vanilla overall ⎜ marking/hickeys⎜ just a dude in love ⎜awkward love confessions ⎜very minimal smut tbh ⎜ 🎄synopsis: an accidental christmas hook up, becomes so much more when your hoe of a best friend catches feelings. 🎄word count: 5.2k 🎄authors note: this is my first of several christmas fics - there will not be a part 2 but I hope you all enjoy!! christmas fic list

(unedited)

“Come on, you promised,” Mat said, his voice teasing as he nudged you out of the car. “It’s one party. You’ll survive.”

You glared at him, tightening your coat against the icy December air. “You ambushed me. I never said yes.”

“Details.” His smirk deepened, and you hated how easily it chipped away at your resolve. “Besides, you’ve been sulking at home for two weeks. Consider this an intervention. No one should be this much of a Grinch in December.”

It was impossible to argue with Mat Barzal. You’d learned that years ago. He had a way of wrapping his words in charm and layering them with just enough humour to get his way. It didn’t help that his ridiculous good looks made you forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

Mat was your best friend—the kind of friend who’d been there through every bad breakup, every celebration, every boring Tuesday night when all you needed was a movie marathon and pizza. He was also, as you liked to call him, a professional-grade hoe. Always flirting, always texting someone new, always shamelessly charming his way into trouble.

So, of course, it was Mat who had dragged you to this Christmas party. And of course, he’d conveniently forgotten to mention that the guest list included a suspicious number of his teammates, their dates, and not many people you actually knew.

You tugged your itchy sweater down and shot him a glare. “If this is your idea of a fun Friday night, I’m starting to question our friendship.”

“You’ll thank me later.” He slung an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the door. “Trust me, you’re gonna have a great time.”

What Mat didn’t say—and wouldn’t dare admit—was that he’d spent weeks working up the nerve to do this. To spend more time with you outside the cozy bubble of friendship. To finally figure out if the feelings he’d been burying for years were one-sided or if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.

But Mat was a coward when it came to you. A hoe, sure. But only because it was easier to flirt with strangers than risk what you had.

Inside, the party was in full swing. Twinkling lights strung across the room, the faint scent of pine and cider in the air, and a playlist that was just loud enough to drown out awkward small talk.

Mat stayed close, his hand brushing yours as you made your way through the crowd. He didn’t miss the way you wrinkled your nose at the chaos, and his grin softened. “Alright, Scrooge. Let’s get you a drink.”

You let him pull you toward the kitchen, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on dragging me out like this. Don’t you have ten other girls you could be charming right now?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, so brief you almost missed it. “Maybe I like spending time with you.”

The words hung between you, light but heavy, before he quickly added, “Besides, no one else would put up with your terrible attitude about Christmas.” You laughed, and Mat felt the tension ease, though the knot in his chest didn’t loosen.

One day, he thought.

One day he’d tell you the truth.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, the hum of conversation and Christmas music muffled by the thick walls. Mat handed you a cup of something that smelled strongly of peppermint schnapps and took a long sip of his own.

“This is terrible,” you said after a cautious taste, wrinkling your nose.

Mat grinned. “It’s festive.”

“It tastes like someone melted a candy cane into rubbing alcohol.”

“Exactly.” He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Happy holidays.”

You clinked cups with him, rolling your eyes. Typical Mat—always the life of the party, always ready with a sarcastic comment or a sly grin to keep you on your toes. You couldn’t help but smile as he leaned back against the counter, his dark hair slightly messy and his cheeks already flushed from the heat of the room.

“So,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “Having fun yet?”

“I’ll let you know when it starts.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you couldn’t help but join in. It was easy to relax around Mat, even in a setting where you felt like a complete outsider.

As the night wore on, the two of you lingered in the kitchen, your drinks steadily disappearing. Mat’s stories became a little louder, his laugh a little freer, and you felt yourself loosening up too.

“Remember that time we tried to make cookies in my apartment?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.

“How could I forget?” You grinned, leaning against the counter beside him. “You set the oven on fire.”

“It wasn’t a fire,” he protested, gesturing with his cup. “It was a… controlled open flame.”

“Your neighbours didn’t think so.”

“Yeah, well, they hated me anyway.” Mat chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But you stayed. Even when I ruined the cookies.”

“You had alcohol,” you said simply, and he laughed again, shaking his head.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re always there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, but before you could respond, he downed the rest of his drink and changed the subject.

“Okay, real talk,” he said, setting his empty cup on the counter. “What’s your deal with Christmas? Why do you hate it so much?”

“I don’t hate it,” you said defensively. “I just think it’s… overrated.”

“Overrated?” He looked at you like you’d just insulted his entire family. “You’re breaking my heart over here.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s fine. It’s just not my thing.”

“Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong,” he said, his grin lopsided. “You should let me show you how it’s done.”

“And how’s that?”

“For starters…” He reached over, tugging gently at the sleeve of your overused christmas sweater. “This thing has got to go. You look like a rejected elf.”

“Excuse me?” You stared at him, mock-offended, and he burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding! Mostly.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You’re the only person I know who can make something that ugly look good.”

The comment sent a flutter through your chest, but you brushed it off as just another one of Mat’s usual flirtatious remarks. He was always saying things like that—half-joking, half-serious—and you’d learned not to read too much into them.

Still, as the drinks kept flowing and the night wore on, Mat’s comments started to feel… different. Softer. More pointed.

“You know,” he said at one point, “sometimes I think you don’t see yourself the way everyone else does.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on his cup. “Just that you’re… you know. Amazing. Like, actually amazing. And you don’t even realise it.”

You laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Okay, you’re definitely drunk.”

“Tipsy, maybe,” he admitted, a crooked grin on his face. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Before you could press him further, someone burst into the kitchen, dragging Mat into a conversation about hockey and leaving you standing there, your mind buzzing as much from his words as from the alcohol.

As the night wound down, you found yourself back where you started—leaning against the counter, your cup nearly empty, with Mat by your side. The party had thinned out, voices from the living room fading into a low hum.

He was quieter now, his usual spark mellowed by the weight of the night and whatever thoughts had been lingering behind his lopsided smile.

“You’re staring,” you teased, breaking the silence.

“Am I?” His lips quirked up, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe I’ve just got a lot to think about.”

“You need a brain for that” You hoped your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

He hesitated, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the countertop. “Like how you’re still here,” he said finally. “When you could’ve bailed hours ago. But you didn’t.”

“Maybe I’m a sucker for bad holiday parties,” you joked, but the warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten.

“Or maybe,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “you like spending time with me as much as I like spending time with you.”

It was the kind of thing he’d say all the time, casual and easy, except now there was something behind it. Something that made the air between you feel heavier. Charged.

Maybe it was the alcohol?

Or maybe it was something you had been feeling all night - a shift.

“Mat,” you began, but the words caught in your throat when his hand brushed against yours, tentative and testing.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “And I will.”

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. It wasn’t careful or calculated—just instinct, like you’d been waiting for this moment longer than you cared to admit.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and for once, the rest of the world didn’t matter. Not the bad music, not the overplayed holiday cheer, not even the fact that anyone could walk in at any second.

“Guess the party’s starting now,” he said breathlessly when you finally broke apart, his forehead resting against yours.

“Shut up,” you muttered, laughing as you pulled him back in.

Mat’s laugh rumbled softly against your lips before his hands shifted at your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss slowed, turning into something softer, sweeter, but no less intense. His fingers traced light patterns along the curve of your back, and you found yourself melting into his touch, the rest of the room falling away entirely.

When the sound of voices drifted closer—someone coming down the hallway, loud and unsteady—you both broke apart, the spell momentarily shattered. Mat took a step back, his eyes lingering on yours, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

“Guess we’ve got an audience incoming,” he said, nodding toward the approaching voices.

“Probably shouldn’t give them a show,” you replied, your cheeks burning. Your hands dropping to straighten out your sweater, your cheeks burning a bright red as you turn away from your friend - taking a few sobering breaths. You turn back to Mat slowly, your eyebrows lifting as you find him already staring at your, his cheeks burning as much as yours.

“I don’t think I’m finished with tonight.” He says slowly - adding, “but I’m definitely done with this party.” His Adams apple bobbing as he watches your mind turn a hundred miles an hour.

“Oh, well there’s a bar down the street thats usually open late.” You note, Mat’s brows furrowing as he shakes his head.

“That’s not—,” Mat lets out a soft sigh, his smile soft on his face as he spits out, “I’m trying to ask you to come home with me.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric, like a string pulled taut. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly, or if the adrenaline coursing through your veins was playing tricks on you.

“Home,” you repeated slowly, testing the word on your tongue. Your voice came out softer than you intended, barely audible over the distant thrum of the party.

Mat nodded, his gaze steady but vulnerable, like he was bracing himself for the answer. “Yeah. With me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat reverberating in your ears. The room around you blurred—the noise, the decorations, the faint smell of spiked cider—and all you could focus on was the way his thumb brushed against his palm, the slight twitch of his jaw as he waited.

This wasn’t like him. Mat, the always-casual, too-cool-to-be-flustered Mat, was standing in front of you looking like his world might tilt depending on your response.

You took a breath, your pulse skipping as you leaned in just enough that your words were for him alone. “Okay,” you whispered, the weight of the decision melting into something exhilarating as you saw his grin break through.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice quieter now, carrying an edge of disbelief, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah.”

His hand found yours again, this time with more certainty, fingers lacing through yours as he gave a gentle tug. “Let’s get out of here before someone stops us.”

You followed without hesitation, weaving through the scattered crowd, ignoring the knowing glances and side comments. The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, sharp and refreshing compared to the stuffy warmth of the party. Mat didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

And as he led you down the street, your hand still in his, you felt something settle in you, a kind of rightness you hadn’t expected and couldn’t deny.

The walk to Mat's place was quiet but charged, every step a wordless conversation. The city hummed around you—car engines purring in the distance, the occasional laughter spilling from a bar’s open door—but it all felt like background noise. The real energy was in the small, subtle touches: the way his fingers tightened around yours when your hands brushed, or the way he glanced at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

When you reached his building, Mat paused at the door, his free hand fishing out his keys. He hesitated, looking at you with a crooked smile, his breath visible in the cool air. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, but there was an edge of seriousness in his tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart skipped. “Mat, if you don’t open that door in the next five seconds…”

His laugh was soft, barely louder than the jingle of the keys as he unlocked the door. “Alright, alright,” he said, pushing it open and holding it for you. “Come on in.”

The warmth of the lobby hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The building smelled faintly of pine—probably some festive candle someone had left at the front desk—and you followed him to the elevator, the silence between you comfortable now.

Inside the elevator, the closeness felt different. More intimate. The quiet hum of the machinery filled the space, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat. You caught Mat glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Instead, his thumb resumed its soft pattern against your hand, grounding you.

When the doors slid open, Mat led you down the hallway to his apartment. The tension built with each step, your stomach doing little flips as you reached his door. He unlocked it smoothly, gesturing for you to step inside first.

His place was exactly what you’d imagined—warm, lived-in, and distinctly him. The couch had a throw blanket draped messily over one arm, and a few mismatched mugs were scattered on the coffee table. String lights twinkled softly along the windows, their golden glow casting cozy shadows across the room.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you.

“It’s not messy,” you replied, taking it all in. It was charming, actually, and it felt... safe. “It’s nice.”

Mat exhaled a laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing again. He reached out tentatively, his hand brushing your arm before sliding down to your hand.

“Still sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something vulnerable.

You nodded, your fingers curling around his. “Still sure.”

That was all he needed. Mat pulled you in gently, his other hand finding your waist as his lips met yours. This time, there was no hesitation—no second-guessing. It was slower than before, but somehow even more consuming, like he was trying to memorise the feel of you, the way you fit against him.

One of mats hands reach up, tugging slowly on your hair scrunchie pulling it from the bun, letting your hair fall loose, his fingers playing with the strands as he leads you to his bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours as your arms loop around his neck. Mat’s lips make his way down your neck - pressing soft kisses as he tugs on the hem of your sweater, his lips only leaving your skin as he pulls the thick fabric over your head, his eyes immediately dropping down to your bra.

“I’m about to fucking combust.” Mat groans, the two of you falling onto his mattress, your head buried among the pillows as Mat sits up on his knees, taking in the sight of you as he rips his own soft hoodie over his head, his hands reaching out for the button on your jeans.

“God, you’re stunning.” Mat coos, as he slides your jeans down your legs, throwing them off to the side as he smoothes his hands down your body, his hands stopping at your knees as he pushes them apart, his body slotting slowly between them as he leans down to reattach his lips to your jaw - sucking harshly against the soft skin, a soft whine escaping you the blood rushing to the surface as an obvious bruise starts to form.

“Perfect.” He whispers, against your neck as he picks a new spot and sucks again.

“Mat.” You hiss, as his hand slowly dips in the waistband of your underwear, gently teasing your clit, his teeth skimming the skin on your neck as he pulls away. “If you don’t put your dick in me right now I swear to god.” You continue, your nails digging into his shoulders as he dips an experimental finger inside of you.

Mat doesn’t need to be told twice as he makes quick work of his own pants, his cock painfully hard as it leaks with premium - his body leaning over your as he rifles through his bed side table. “Wrap it before you tap it.” He jokes, your hands pulling your own underwear down your legs, throwing them off to the side as you take in Mat.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You sigh, but your smile betrays your serious tone. You always knew the hockey player had a good body - his fitness levels beyond the average person, but seeing his stone cut figure was about to make you drool - your hands reaching out for him as he rolls the condom on his dick.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” He whispers as he crawls back on top of you, his body slipping perfectly between your legs, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your cheek as he lines himself up. His head dropping into the crook of your neck as he pushes in, his movements slow and purposeful as he lets you adjust with each inch. “Is this okay?” He whispers into your hair, his hips moving excruciatingly slow as he pumps himself in and out.

He smiles as you nod, your lip trapped between your teeth as you let out a soft whimper, his hands placed on either side of your head as his movements speed up a little. “My pretty little pillow princess.” Mat coos, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as the sound of skin on skin fills the room.

“Fuck Mat.” You hiss as his pelvis brushes against yours, your cunt clenching around him - his hips stuttering as he lets out a low groan.

“I’m close.” He hisses, your head nodding in agreement as your nails drag up his back tangling in soft hair, tugging lightly.

“I need more.” You breath out, Mat eye brows furrowing as he lifts himself up slightly, lifting a hand off the mattress, his fingers dipping between your body as he teases your clit softly.

“Shit.” He grunt as you squeeze around him again, his orgasm being pulled from him as he bottoms out inside of you, his fingers still working on your clit until he feels you clench tighter around him, a long whine escaping you as you cum. Mat’s body falls against yours, the two of your breathing heavily as your fingers continue to scrape against his scalp, a please sigh leaving him as his body melts on top of yours.

“Mat, I need to go to the bathroom.” You mumble, your eyes almost forcing themself closed as the heat radiating from your best friend tries to lull you to sleep. Mat lets out a grunt, lifting himself up just enough to capture your lips with his, his mouth spreading into a wide grin as he rolls off of you, discarding the condom as he lies on his back.

“There should be your favourite stuff under the counter if you need it.” He says softly, his eyes already closing, “Come back to me quickly.” He adds, his arm thrown over his eye as his breathing evens out.

You watch him for a few moments before dashing into his bathroom, facing the mirror as you take in your nest of hair and your flushed cheeks. “What the fuck did I do?” You sneer at your reflection, the bright red bruises on your neck sticking out like a sore thumb. You turn on the tap, using the cold water against your face before cleaning yourself up as quickly as possible, your frown deepening as you step out of the bathroom, Mat fast asleep in the bed, his body turned towards the empty space besides him.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you make your way over to the bed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against his temple before pulling your clothes back on as escaping your best friends house.

Three days passed quickly - your phone constantly dinging with a barrage of messages from Mat. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Your phone sat face down on the counter, Mat's unread messages and missed calls an ever-growing weight on your chest. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to face him after what had happened.

Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel his hands on you, his lips against yours. The memory of his soft laugh, the way he had asked you to come back to him—it all made your heart ache.

You fucked your best friend.

And then you ditched.

What if this ruined everything?

What if he regretted it?

You finally pick up your phone, glaring down at the messages waiting for you;

Matty ♥️: Hey, just wanted to check in, is everything okay?

Matty ♥️: I know this might’ve made things awkward but maybe we should meet up and talk?

Matty ♥️: I know you’re reading these, please answer me.

Matty ♥️: I miss you.

Fuck.

Mat was - rightfully - going out of his mind.

He hadn’t heard a word from you—no texts, no calls. You were ignoring him, and it was eating him alive. Every time his phone buzzed, he scrambled for it, only to find some pointless notification or a message from someone who wasn’t you.

He couldn't get the memory of your touch, your laugh, or the way you had whispered that quiet "I'm sorry" as you left his place. That had stuck with him, playing over and over in his head.

What were you sorry for?

Leaving?

Crossing the line between friends?

Or something more?

Matty ♥️: I miss you.

His most recent text. He’d sent it hours ago.

No response.

Again.

“God, what did I do?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. You had been his best friend for years. He knew you inside out—or at least, he thought he did. But now, it was like there was this wall between you, and he hated it.

Mat stared at his phone, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. His apartment felt suffocating, every quiet moment filled with the phantom echoes of your laughter or the soft murmur of your voice. He could still see you everywhere—in the hoodie you had borrowed and never returned, in the stupid inside jokes you’d scribbled on his fridge, in the way his couch smelled faintly like your perfume.

The silence was driving him insane.

He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. He didn’t even hesitate as he shoved his keys into his pocket and stepped out the door.

The drive to your place was short but felt agonisingly long. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his mind racing with every possibility.

What if you didn’t want to see him?

What if this was it?

What if you hated him for what happened?

But he couldn’t sit around wondering anymore.

He needed to see you, to talk to you, to fix this—whatever this was now.

When he finally pulled up outside your building, the glow of your apartment light felt like both a taunt and a lifeline. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

What was he even going to say? Hey, sorry I ruined everything, but also, I think I might love you? That sounded pathetic, even in his head.

But before he could second-guess himself, he was out of the car and heading toward your door. His knuckles rapped against the wood before he even realised what he was doing.

Inside, you froze. The sound of his knock sent a jolt of electricity through you. You hadn’t expected him to come here—not after how you had ghosted him. Your stomach twisted with guilt and something you couldn’t quite name.

“Hey, it’s me,” his voice came through the door, quieter than you’d ever heard him sound. “I—I know I should’ve waited for you to reach out, but... I can’t. I need to talk to you.” Your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren’t home, to let the silence stretch on. But the other part—the part that missed him so much it hurt—had already pulled you to the door.

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “Mat...” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said quickly, his words spilling out like a flood. “But please—just tell me what’s going on. I’m going crazy over here.”

You bit your lip, a lump rising in your throat. The wall you’d been trying so hard to build was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to stop it. Slowly, you unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see him standing there, his expression a mix of hope and heartbreak.

The sight of him made your chest tighten. “Mat...” you said again, your voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, taking a small step closer. “For whatever I did, for whatever I said that made you leave. But you—you can’t just disappear on me like this. I need to know if we’re okay.”

And there it was. The question you had been avoiding. The answer you weren’t sure you even had.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“Are we?” you asked softly, your voice breaking on the words.

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “But I want us to be.”

And just like that, the ache in your chest spilled over, and the tears you’d been holding back finally came.

Mat’s expression softened immediately at the sight of your tears. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back, unsure if you’d let him. Instead, he just stood there, the weight of your silence filling the small space between you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the emotion. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to...” You trailed off, shaking your head as more tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer, his hesitation melting away. “You don’t have to apologise. I just—I’ve been losing my mind not knowing what you’re thinking. If I pushed you too far, if I—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tears. “It’s not you, Mat. It’s me. I... what if we made the wrong choice?”

That stopped him. His brows knit together as he studied you, his confusion clear.

You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “What if we ruined everything? What if things will never go back to how they were before? You’re my best friend, Mat, and I don’t—” Your voice broke again, and you bit your lip hard, willing yourself to keep it together.

His eyes widened slightly, something soft and vulnerable flickering across his face. “You think I don’t feel the same way?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words barely audible. “I don’t know what to think. I just know I can’t lose you.”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said finally, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But, God, you’ve got to stop running away from me. From this.”

“I don’t know how,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Then talk to me.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you, his hands finding yours with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He held them tightly, grounding you in the moment.

“I don’t regret what happened,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Not for a second. And if you think for one minute that I’d let that ruin what we have, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the fear and uncertainty that had been suffocating you. You searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but all you found was sincerity.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering. “But I’m not scared of ruining what we had because what if I want something more?” He pauses taking in a deep breath, “What if I want you?”

The tears came faster now, but they felt different—lighter, freer. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you did the only thing that felt right.

You stepped closer, your hands slipping from his to cup his face, and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic like the first time. It was slow and tender, filled with everything you hadn’t been able to put into words.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. “Don’t run away again,” he whispered, his voice shaky, “Please.”

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice steady this time. “I won’t.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal smut #mat barzal x reader #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl smut #christmas special #christmas smut #nhl christmas

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sherewrytes · 2 days ago

Text

Plug Kento Nanami

Plug Nanami: Who shows up on time, every time, dressed like he’s on his way to a party or club instead of making a drop-off, with perfectly rolled joints and not a single hair out of place.

Plug Nanami: Who never raises his voice but somehow manages to make you feel like you owe him more than just payment with that low, smooth tone of his.

Plug Nanami: Who refuses to let you short yourself, sliding a little extra into your bag with a soft, "Consider it a bonus for being such a loyal customer."

Plug Nanami: Who texts you after every transaction with, "Everything to your satisfaction?" like he’s taking customer service to a whole new level.

Plug Nanami: Who only ever stays for a quick chat, but the way he adjusts his glasses and lets his eyes linger on you a moment too long makes your heart race.

Plug Nanami: Who once showed up in the middle of a rainstorm, soaking wet but completely unbothered, handing over your pre-rolls with a deadpan, "You’re lucky I prioritize good clients."

Plug Nanami: Who has this effortless dominance about him, the kind that makes you want to do things just to see him smirk in approval.

Plug Nanami: Who caught you once in your oversized sweats and bonnet and still said, "You look good," like it was a fact, not a compliment.

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t miss a beat when you flirt with him, offering a small chuckle before responding, "Careful now. I don’t mix business with pleasure… unless you’re willing to change my mind."

Plug Nanami: Who makes it very clear he’s not just your plug but also someone who notices everything, including when you’re stressed or looking run-down. "You need to take care of yourself," he says softly, slipping your favorite chocolate bar into your hand without a word.

Plug Nanami: Who’s always clean-cut, rocking a crisp white tee or a fitted hoodie, gold chain resting against his chest, looking more like a businessman than someone pushing product—but you know better.

Plug Nanami: Who runs his drops like clockwork, his Hellcat pulling up smooth and quiet. He leans out the window with a calm, "You good? Don’t keep me waiting too long."

Plug Nanami: Who surprises you with how he speaks—smooth, deliberate, but with just enough edge to make you sit up and pay attention. "You know I don’t do half measures, ma. You get the best from me, every time."

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t just drop off the bag—he stays a little longer, leaning against the doorframe with a calm confidence, arms crossed, giving you a look that says he knows exactly what’s on your mind.

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t deal with nonsense, shutting down any funny business with a sharp, "Don’t play with my time." But with you? He’s always patient, his voice softening when he says, "Take your time. I’m in no rush."

Plug Nanami: Who tells you he doesn’t do freebies but somehow always slides you a little extra. "Just quality control," he smirks, though you know he’s lying.

Plug Nanami: Who keeps his stash on lock, never running out of the best strains, and every time you ask where he gets it, he just chuckles and says, "That’s my secret."

Plug Nanami: Who caught you once buying from someone else and didn’t say a word until his next drop-off. "Whatever they gave you? Trash. Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you’re never disappointed again."

Plug Nanami: Who shows up in his car, windows cracked, bass low, smelling like clean cologne and a faint hint of weed. He smirks when he catches you looking. "You like the vibe, huh? I can give you more than just this."

Plug Nanami: Who noticed you peeking at his tattoos one time and rolled up his sleeve just enough to show them off. "Curious, huh? Maybe one day I’ll let you trace them yourself."

Plug Nanami: Who, when you try to flirt too hard, chuckles low and deep, leaning closer to whisper, "You know you’re trouble, right? Keep talking like that, and I might start making house calls for more than just business."

Plug Nanami: Who, when you ask why he pushes product when he clearly doesn’t need to, just shrugs and says, "Sometimes the best things come from unexpected places," before giving you that look that leaves you questioning who’s really in control.

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t react when you tease him about being too refined for this game. Instead, he steps closer, his voice dropping. "Don’t let my look fool you, baby. I know exactly what I’m doing—and I know you love it."

Plug Nanami: Who caught you at a party once, surrounded by people you didn’t know, looking out of place. He walked right up to you, slid his arm around your waist, and whispered, "You good? Or you need me to remind you where you belong?"

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t hesitate to pull you aside when someone else tries to step to you, his tone cool but firm. "She’s with me. Don’t make me repeat myself."

Plug Nanami: Who, when you’re standing at the door in nothing but booty shorts and a cropped hoodie, doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sweep over you, his voice steady but rough. "You knew I was coming, and this is how you answer the door? You trying to start something, Y/N?"

Plug Nanami: Who stays calm when you playfully call him "Mr. Businessman," but steps closer, his broad shoulders towering over you as he murmurs, "Keep testing me, and I’ll show you just how serious I can be."

Plug Nanami: Who has this habit of brushing his fingers against yours when handing over your bag, just to see you react. And when you hesitate, he smirks. "What? You shy now? You weren’t shy last week when you were talking crazy to me."

Plug Nanami: Who, when you ask for recommendations, takes his time explaining the strains, his voice low and intimate like he’s telling you secrets no one else gets to hear. "This one’s for relaxing. But this one? This will have you feeling nice and warm. Could even help you sleep... if you’re alone."

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t hide his jealousy when he spots you dancing with some random dude at the club again. He doesn’t make a scene—he doesn’t have to. One hard look from across the room, and he has you second-guessing every move.

Plug Nanami: Who waits for you by the bar, calm but commanding, sipping his drink like he owns the place. When you finally approach him, he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Was that supposed to make me jealous? 'Cause all it did was remind me who you’re really coming home to."

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t just say things to say them—when he tells you, "You’re mine," he says it with a quiet intensity that makes your heart race, his hand resting lightly on your waist like a promise.

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t let you forget who’s in control. When you try to test him, he tilts his head, studying you with those sharp eyes before muttering, "Careful, Y/N. You don’t want to see what happens when I lose my patience."

Plug Nanami: Who, when he finally breaks that calm exterior, has you pinned against the couch, his hands firm on your thighs. His voice drops an octave as he says, "You think you can tease me and get away with it? Let me show you how wrong you are."

Plug Nanami: Who has you breathless by the time he’s done with you, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers, "Next time, don’t make me wait. You know I’m not good at sharing."

Plug Nanami: Who, even after all that, stays to clean up and roll another joint for you, his demeanor back to calm and collected as if nothing happened. He hands it to you with a small smirk. "Don’t say I never take care of you, ma."

Plug Nanami: Who always makes you feel special, even in the smallest ways—like when he leaves your place, pressing a kiss to your forehead before saying, "Stay out of trouble. I’ll be back when you need me."

Plug Nanami: Who, despite his smooth and professional vibe, lets his street-smart edge show when it matters. Like when he rolls up late at night after you text him about some dude getting too friendly at the bar. He leans against his car, arms crossed, his tone deadly calm. "You good? Or you need me to handle something?"

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t flinch when you ask why he’s so quiet during his drops. Instead, he gives you a slow, knowing smirk. "Why talk when I can let my actions speak for me? You like what I bring, don’t you?"

Plug Nanami: Who, after spotting you dancing with another guy at the club when your out with your friends one night, waits for you outside like he’s completely unbothered. But the second you walk up to him; his voice is sharp. "Next time you feel like playing games, make sure I’m the one who gets to win."

Plug Nanami: Who, when you tease him for his clean-cut image, throws it right back. "Don’t get it twisted, Y/N. Just because I dress like this doesn’t mean I can’t get dirty when I need to."

Plug Nanami: Who finally snaps one night after you keep pushing his buttons, pinning you against the wall, his lips grazing your ear as he growls, "You like testing me, huh? Let me show you why that’s a bad idea."

Plug Nanami: Who keeps his car spotless, but when you ride with him, lets you kick off your shoes and play your music, saying, "Don’t get used to this. You’re lucky I like you."

Plug Nanami: Who always gives you the best quality, but one night, he surprises you with a strain he says is "special order." When you ask why he’s letting you try it first, he shrugs casually. "Because I know you appreciate the finer things. Just like me."

Plug Nanami: Who never loses his cool but lets his territorial side show in subtle ways. Like the way he casually slips his arm around your waist when you’re out, his grip firm enough to make anyone watching back off.

Plug Nanami: Who doesn’t just drop off weed—he becomes the only person you trust with your stash because everything he does is handled with precision. "You’re too good for anything less than perfect, Y/N," he says, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that makes you forget to breathe.

Plug Nanami: Who stays just long enough to remind you why he’s different. He doesn’t just pass the bag; he holds your gaze and leans in close, his voice low and deliberate. "Anything else you need tonight? You know I got you."

Plug Nanami: Who, after you’ve pushed him to his limit, leaves you breathless and spent, only to calmly adjust his hoodie and smirk down at you. "See? Told you not to test me."

Plug Nanami: Who, as he’s leaving, tosses a wrapped pre-roll on your table with a smirk. "That one’s on me. Thought you might need it after… all that.I'll be back later. I got another drop off"

#plug nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #choso x reader #jjk smut #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #reader insert #jjk imagines #jjk x black reader #plug!au #sherewrytes #choso x black!reader #plug kento nanami

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bandsofmarv · 3 days ago

Text

Off limits

It started with stolen glances, moments that lingered too long, and feelings that both of you tried—and failed—to bury. Bucky Barnes was your dad’s best friend, and the unspoken rule between you was simple: don’t cross the line.

But rules were made to be broken.

TW - smut, angst, age gap , DBF

The cabin was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace. Your dad had stepped out to grab supplies, leaving you alone with Bucky. The tension in the room was suffocating, the kind that had been brewing between you for years. Every stolen glance, every accidental brush of his hand, had built up to this moment.

You sat curled up on the couch, trying to focus on the book in your lap, but your eyes kept drifting to Bucky. He sat across the room, nursing a glass of whiskey, his metal hand resting on his thigh as he stared into the flames. He looked every bit as tortured as you felt, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense.

“Stop staring, doll,” he said, his voice low and gruff.

You flushed, snapping your gaze back to the book. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he said, his tone softer now. “And it’s gonna get us both in trouble.”

You closed the book with a sigh, setting it aside. “Why is it always about trouble with you, Bucky?”

His gaze finally met yours, and the intensity in his steel-blue eyes made your breath hitch. “Because this—” he gestured between the two of you, “—is a bad idea.”

“Why?” you challenged, standing up and crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Because my dad wouldn’t approve? Because you think you’re too old for me?”

He looked away, his jaw clenching. “Both.”

You knelt in front of him, placing your hands on his knees. “What if I don’t care?”

Bucky’s metal hand twitched, his fingers curling into a fist as he fought to keep himself in check. “You should care, sweetheart. I’m not the guy you think I am.”

“You’re exactly the guy I think you are,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his. “You’re kind, loyal, and you’ve been there for me more times than I can count. You’re not some monster, Bucky. You’re… you.”

He let out a shaky breath, his head dropping forward. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, doll.”

“Then show me,” you whispered, leaning closer.

Bucky’s resolve crumbled. He reached out, his metal hand brushing your cheek as his flesh hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and unrelenting, like he’d been starving for this moment.

You gasped into his mouth, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. You could feel the hard press of him beneath you, and it sent a thrill racing through you.

“Bucky,” you breathed as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “If this is too much, just say the word.”

But you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your hands fisting in his shirt.

That was all the permission he needed. His hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch both rough and gentle as he explored your skin. His metal hand was cool against your heated flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You arched into his touch, your breath coming in short gasps as he pulled your shirt over your head. His lips returned to yours, hungry and possessive, as his hands roamed your body, igniting every nerve ending.

“Bucky,” you moaned, your hips grinding against him.

He groaned, his grip tightening on your waist. “You’re gonna be the death of me, doll.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you said, your voice trembling with need.

His control snapped. He stood, carrying you effortlessly to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his gaze dark and filled with want as he hovered over you.

“This might ruin everything,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

“Then don’t,” you said, pulling him down to you. In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the rules, not the consequences. All that mattered was him.

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milla-frenchy · 23 hours ago

Text

A/N: This one is gonna hurt. I’m so sorry.

Oh Ally... ngl, I'm a little scared 👀 Ok let's go!!

His black t-shirt is pulled up just slightly and his hand is what's mostly in focus, holding onto his cock that is peeking out of his flannel pajama pants. He is pulling his foreskin down tight making the head of his cock flush with color against his skin. The shadowiness makes his happy tail look even thicker and more unruly than what you have seen.

wtf, is your goal to make me horny before breaking my heart? Because if that's the case, congrats 😂😭

“Mmm what are you doing to me, baby girl.”

Fuck

“I’ll call you, alright?” His voice is firm, there is no room for questions. “Alright.” You force a smile and he nods and heads to his truck. It was hard not to take that as asking you not to bother him. He wasn’t being unkind in his tone, but he wasn’t being truthful either. You can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

Aaaaaaah I already wanna cry 😭Ally 😭

“I never asked you for anything.” Tess utters quietly. Joel nods in agreement, silently reliving all the things he loved about her. Still loves about her. “Never had to.” Joel gives a gentle side smile. Their eyes meet. Eyes that are intimate and mourning all at once. Hopeful and nostalgic.

Oh damn this is so beautiful

Questioning why Tess was introducing you to the man you had been fucking for the past few weeks. The man who had naked photos of you on his phone. The man you were hopelessly besotted with. Joel’s eyes glance up at you and for the first time ever he looks sheepish. He holds his hand out standard and practical. Emotionless like it's a formal business greeting. “Joel. Nice to meet you.” You stare, dumbfounded by his words, spoken so nonchalant. Nice to meet me?

Oh fuuuuuck.

Joel stares him down as he walks away and you could have easily mistaken it for jealousy. The irony of it, as your harmless flirting was nothing compared to his potential relationship with your boss. You needed answers, whether or not Joel wanted to disavow you.

Omg I love this so much!!! I just love it, when joel is emotionally unavailable, breaks our heart, but shows evidence of jealousy and possessiveness, aaaaaaah 😍😍😍

The bartender interrupts you to hand you your drink and gives Joel the side eye, no doubt noticing how prickly he was and how much your demeanor had changed from earlier. “What are you staring at?” Joel snaps at the bartender. His intimidating tone was low but it was threatening. His misplaced anger was looking for any way to escape. “Relax, bud.” He puts his hands up in a submissive gesture and backs off. He glances back over to you but you look away and don’t make eye contact with him again. “She ain't’ interested.” He threatens and somehow makes himself look even bigger. The bartender nods with a knowing smile that might as well say ‘not worth the trouble’ as he grabs Joel’s empty beer bottle and moves on. He wasn’t interested enough to contest with Joel. You hate how much it turns you on to see him get protective over you.

DEAD.

I had to quote all of it because damn that was so fucking good!!

He presses up against you, pinning you against a stack of boxes. It is reserved but still so sensual. He pushes your hair behind your ear and combs his fingers through it, smelling your sweet scent mixing with his woodsy, pine cologne.

Fuck. I would fall for him 😭😂

And then, the song? Oh my heart... This is so good, Ally ❤️❤️

And I wonder what you got for us in the next part 😍😍

The Wolf You Feed (Part 4)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.1k

Part 4 / ? (Ongoing) A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Chapter Warnings: ANGST. Smut. POV-Switching. Rated Explicit. 18+ MDNI. See series masterlist for complete warnings.

A/N: This one is gonna hurt. I’m so sorry.

You get ready for bed and eye the flannel that you stole from Joel’s house. You hold it close to your chest and breathe in his scent that still lingers.

You strip down to nothing but your lacy panties and don his shirt. You precariously drape it off your shoulders and look at yourself in the mirror.

Joel would love this.

Your hair is still damp and messy from your shower but you look clean and bright. The I’m positively smitten glow you have makes you radiate.

You position yourself on your bed perched on your knees with your legs spread open. You adjust the shirt just right to hang over your shoulders and around your breasts, just barely covering your nipples.

With your phone positioned slightly above you, you snap a pic while making your most innocent face. Your full body is in the frame and perfectly teasing with your frumpy shirt placement. Your sluttiest black, lacey panties also help to conceal just enough to be a tease.

You: Getting ready for bed

You attach the photo and send it. You sit back on your heels and eagerly watch for the read receipt. He is quick to reply.

Joel: Goddamn

Joel: Beautiful

A brief pause.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

Joel: Got any more?

Your heart skips a beat. You absolutely want to give him more.

You: Maybe

You sit back and let the flannel shirt drape open, fully exposing your breasts and your hardened nipples. You sit more upright, and grab a fistfull of your hair and gaze up to the camera, looking a little deranged and lustful. You eye your photo before sending it, impressed with yourself.

Sent.

Joel: Fuck

Joel: Look at them tits

You smirk as you imagine him losing his mind and hope he is as horny as you are. You feel your heat begin to surge inside. You feel so needy for his cock.

You: Your turn

You weren’t too sure what to expect or if he would even play along but after a minute you got your answer.

The photo he sends is so poorly taken, it is endearing when you get over the disappointment of not having his dick perfectly photographed. It’s dark and grainy. You can just make out the navy blue sheets under his skin to deduce he is in his bed too. His black t-shirt is pulled up just slightly and his hand is what's mostly in focus, holding onto his cock that is peeking out of his flannel pajama pants. He is pulling his foreskin down tight making the head of his cock flush with color against his skin. The shadowiness makes his happy tail look even thicker and more unruly than what you have seen.

Nevertheless, it is undeniably Joel. The flutter you get inside that you only ever felt from him.

You: Joel, how naughty

One more photo, he earned it.

This time, you let the shirt fall off completely to your hips. You slide one of your hands into your panties and hook your thumb over the edge to pull them down. You make a “V” with your fingers and press yourself apart so your swollen clit is in full view. With your free hand you snap one last picture and send it. This one is more focused and does not show your face, but it certainly was an eyeful. You doubt he would even be looking elsewhere.

Your message is instantly read. After a moment Joels typing comes and goes until it stops completely. You wonder if he is touching himself. Hope he is touching himself. You impatiently rub your fingers against yourself while you wait, aching at the thought of him.

Your screen changes to an incoming call from Joel Miller.

Of course you answer it as calmly as you can.

“Hey, Mr. Miller.” You greet him with a flirty tone.

“Mmm what are you doing to me, baby girl.” He speaks low and sounds relaxed and groggy. You wonder if you woke him up when you sent the first pic and kind of hope you did.

“Just getting ready for bed and thinking about you.”

You hear him make a breathy acknowledgement and you know he is stroking himself just by how he is breathing. You feel bolder and more daring talking to him on the phone. You can be a tease and he can’t do anything about it.

You put it on speaker so you can have both your hands free.

“Wishing it was your fingers on me.” You lay back on your bed and slide your fingers over your clit until a moan escapes you. “Or your cock.”

“Mmm. Keep going,” he growls low.

Even on the phone he has to be bossy. His voice cuts straight through you. Always so commanding but spoken with a warmness that makes you melt.

You slide a finger inside your wet and needy cunt and use your other hand to tease your clit.

“Joel…” you rasp his name low as you moan. “How hard are you right now?”

You hear him chuff quietly.

“Bout ready to come, sweetheart.”

His shallow breathing and occasional grunt cheers you on. Your hands are so inadequate compared to his. You need to be filled by him. Want his rough hands putting friction in all the right spots.

You fumble with your nightstand drawer for your dildo. His ears pick up on the creak of the wooden drawer opening and he stops you in your tracks.

“No toys.” His stern voice commands. “I want you to get off with your fingers.”

You can hear his grin on the other end.

“... and beg for my cock.”

That wouldn’t be hard to do. You already are screaming inside for him to put you out of your misery. Your performative moans are now all too real.

“Joel… fuck.” You whine but bring your hand back to your opening and press inside with two of your fingers while you massage your clit.

His authoritative demands empower you. Hearing him breathing, groaning and barking orders at you makes it a lot easier to get yourself to the edge. Despite how tiny your hands are in comparison, your mind fills in all the gaps as his voice penetrates your ears.

“I want you to fill me,” you whine.

“Mmm. Gonna make a mess of me.” He sounds haggard. He has been holding back his own release for sure. The thought of making Joel Miller come undone over the phone is intoxicating.

You moan and your breath hitches as you can feel yourself teetering on the edge. Pleading to release.

“Joel…” You whimper. Begging.

“Come for me, baby.” His commanding tone returns, beckoning you to do as he asks.

“Let me hear you. Come for daddy.”

You gasp at his words. That was never something you thought you were into. It went straight to your pussy. Your walls flutter around your fingers as you replay his words in your head. You do come for him, hard, and let him hear you climaxing over the thoughts of him inside you.

“Mmmm.” He groans low as you ride your climax high and let your desperate sounds tip him over the edge.

His labored breathing and raspy moans pick up and you know he is coming.

He goes silent and You can just imagine him laying in his bed with his cock in his hand, pumping himself until he comes over his knuckles. Spent and sticky.

A moment passes as you both breathe heavily catching your breath. Enjoying the moment with one another and relishing in the aftermath of your shared experience.

“Such a good girl.” He praises. “Now, get some sleep.”

You roll your eyes. As if sleeping was going to come easy at this point.

“Night, sweetheart.”

“Night… daddy.” You smirk to yourself, amused and satisfied, and hang up.

You were pretty shocked to see Joel in your driveway come the next morning. He was scraping ice off your windshield and there was a fresh tossing of salt and sand on your walkway. There was some freezing rain overnight, unbeknownst to you.

“Hey, you really don’t have to do that for me.” You call out as you lock your door and make your way down the path.

“I know.” He scrapes at the last bits of frost. “Still gonna.”

You brighten at the way he says it. Feminism be damned, it felt really good to have this man looking out for you.

You were looking real cute in your Bean boots and beanie. Acting a little more timid compared to your late night activities.

You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets and walked over to your car with a cutesy spring in your step. Joel tried to hide his disdain for your carefree jaunt down the icy path. Still, he looked so handsome in his brown suede coat and his relentless refusal to wear a winter hat. Always wielding that power to make you melt in his presence.

“Thank you.” You smile at him as you approach him at arm's length. “Still not giving you the shirt back,” you tease.

“Don’t want it back.” He holds back a smirk and quickly looks you over. Reliving last night's photos, you can imagine. You suppress a wicked smile imagining him saving them in his main album like a heathen.

He takes a step towards you and with his gloved hand he gently holds your chin and brushes his thumb over. You note the subtle way his eyes soften. His longing stare makes it feel like he isn’t going to see you for a long time, and it lingers. He drops his hand and puts it on his hip. His other hand fidgets with his leg like he is unsure what to do.

“I’m not gonna be around for a little while” He hesitates and looks like he wants to say more and you pickup that something is off. Something he still has decided you are not privy to know about. Whatever has been bothering him the past few days is still weighing on him. “I got some stuff to take care of and I’ll be real busy.”

“Ok, Joel.” You don’t give away that you think he sounds suspicious. Guilty even. You want to press him, but you let it go, again. You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off.

“I’ll call you, alright?” His voice is firm, there is no room for questions.

“Alright.” You force a smile and he nods and heads to his truck. It was hard not to take that as asking you not to bother him. He wasn’t being unkind in his tone, but he wasn’t being truthful either.

You can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

You are dragging your feet at work. After your late night fun with Joel your mind was wide awake and you had trouble sleeping.

Marlene is extra bubbly today. She is riding the Friday wave and you are grateful she takes on more of the customer facing role while you just work mindlessly making endless orders of lattes and cold brews.

“So, do you wanna?”

“Huh?” she had been talking to you, apparently.

“Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Oh. Yeah, ok.”

“You sound really interested.” She says sarcastically while she stares at you and crosses her arms.

“Sorry, just tired. Yes, I’d love to.”

“Good. Meet at Copper’s around 8? They are doing all night happy hour and open mic.”

“Sounds good.” And it does sound good. Something to do to keep yourself busy and it’s better than going home and watching Netflix by yourself. You have no idea how long Joel is going to be occupied and Marlene is the only other person you would consider a friend since moving there. It would be nice to spend some real time with her outside of work.

“Its not the classiest place, but the crowd is good. Dress slutty and maybe we can get some free drinks.” Marlene jokes, but you have every intention to dress like a knockout and have a good time.

When you walk in it becomes obvious you are overdressed. Many eyes were on you. You stuck out and had a lot of attention, some unwanted, but it also was flattering. Your choice of black minidress was conventionally good for a night of drinking and letting loose, but less practical once you walked through the door and saw what you were working with.

Copper’s was just a few notches above a dive bar and significantly less upscale than the late night Boston clubs and speakeasy’s you frequented. It was mostly crawling with locals, many of which you recognized from Grind. Despite that, the energy felt good. Friendly faces lit up when they saw you and even more cast some not-so-conspicuous stares at your body when they thought you were not looking.

The expansive bar wrapped around the back wall and there was a small stage on the wall across from it. High tops and tables filled out most of the middle with little room to do much more than sit and socialize. Get drunk off beer and cocktails and fat off appetizers and hot wings. The whole place was a little chaotic and rough but it felt cherished. It embodied that small town feel that was brought to life by the patrons.

Marlene walks up to you with some sort of fruity cocktail in each hand. Dressed much more casually than you with a high waisted denim skirt and a low cut band tee.

“About time you get here. Damn, girl!” She looks you up and down as she hands you the drink. “You don’t play around.” You share a laugh, and relish your new, unexpected friendship.

The cocktail is overkill on the sweetness but the vodka hits you hard when you take a sip.

“You didn’t tell me this place was a dive!” You tease.

“Well it’s the only bar we have open year-round so don’t knock it.” She pretends to scold you.

“I’m joking. This is perfect.” And it was.

You and Marlene make quick work of your drinks as you float around the bar. She introduces you to new people and you get friendlier with familiar faces. The bartender flirts with you when he learns you are new to town and you indulge in some harmless fun.

The bar is quickly filling up and you think it must be a fire code violation at this point. You buy the second round of drinks and take a seat while you still can. Laughter and the high from your buzz set you on the right path and you are filled with gratitude for your new friendships and your new home.

[Joel POV]

Joel fiddles with his empty beer bottle, unsure what the hell he is doing. Tess should be arriving any moment now, and he is no closer to ending things with her.

He has his guitar in tow, stowed against the wall. He perches himself in the very last seat, enjoying some solitude while the bar slowly starts to fill in.

He raises two fingers at the bartender and signals that he is ready for another beer. The bartender returns a moment later with a fresh Budweiser.

“There he is!”

Joel spins on his bar stool to the familiar voice.

“Hey Frank. Bill.” He nods to them as Frank slaps his back enthusiastically and sits down next to him.

“Been a while. Tess coming too?”

“S’posed to.” Joel takes a swig of his beer and doesn't give them much of an opportunity to ask more.

Bill sits silently on the other side of Frank, orders two beers and slides one to Frank. He never was one to talk much compared to his counterpart.

“Well, we have missed you. It has been at least a month since we have seen you.” Frank turns to Bill, urging him to converse a little. They were all old friends, but Tess was the one that tended to be the glue between them.

Bill nods in agreement. “Ain’t like it used to be. Not missing much.” Joel keeps to himself, staying mostly quiet while the other two make small talk between themselves. They know Joel well enough to recognize when he is in a mood and to give him space.

Tess walks up to the bar shortly after and throws her arms around Frank in surprise.

“Hey Stranger!” She turns to Bill and does the same thing but he is much more reserved. She intentionally makes him uncomfortable with an embrace, making Frank laugh at his discomfort.

Joel turns his body so his legs are back under the counter and sips his beer. The three of them chatter for a few minutes while Joel broods.

“They are going to start soon. Lets grab a table before they are all taken.” Frank was already buzzed and it made him even more eccentric.

“I’m fine right here.” Joel declines.

“Alright, well join us if you want to later.” Frank taps his shoulder and shuffles off towards some tables closer to the stage. Bill follows behind after giving a silent nod to Joel and Tess and lifting his beer to gesture goodbye. Poor Bill was not one for going out and socializing, but he did it for Frank.

Tess takes Frank’s seat and hails the bartender right away. She notices it's not their regular guy and isn’t too impressed with him making her wait. A silence looms for a few moments. The air is awkward and tense.

“Two shots of whiskey.” She requests and glances over at Joel as the bartender pulls out two shot glasses. Joel nods in agreement.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d see you tonight.” Joel is the first to speak.

“Likewise.” Tess says sharply but follows up softer. “I’m glad to see you.”

The bartender finishes pouring the shots and pushes one to each of them. They knock them back.

“Look, I meant what I said.” Joel sounds like he is reassuring himself as much as her.

“I know.” She retorts. His eyes find doubt in her words. “Jesus, Joel, I know. Can’t we just have some drinks? Don’t be such a sour puss.”

Joel scoffs at her words. He pushes his empty shot glass away and taps near his glass when the bartender walks closer. He pours another round. Joel and Tess knock back a second shot. It isn’t nearly enough to help him deal with his issues but it does help him lighten up a little.

Tess leans against Joel's shoulder and presses her hand onto the top of his thigh. She always was a lightweight, and had no problems coming on to him. No doubt she had pre-gamed before coming out, same as Joel.

“Why can’t it just be like this?” she traces a circle on his leg and moves her finger closer to his groin. He shifts his leg as she grazes his zipper.

“Nothings’ ever easy with us, Tess.” Joel pauses and puts his hand over hers. Reluctantly he peels her hand away. “We don’t want the same things anymore.”

“You don’t want this anymore?” She slides her hand back over his zipper this time with more force and she feels him twitch under the denim. She strokes her fingers down his length pressing into his seam. He stifles a groan and stirs in his seat.

“Tess..” His words plead her to stop, but his body reacts to her touch as it always does. Betraying his good intentions. Their attraction for one another was never in question. It just made things a whole lot more complicated. It was hard for him to resist her advances, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. She wasn’t exactly cooperating with his poor attempts to resist either.

“‘Course I do.” He looks at her, wantonly and holds her gaze. He pauses and chooses his words carefully. “But it’s not enough.”

She was observant of his reaction, calculating what sort of leverage she had left with Joel. She could see his genuine anguish and was reminded too well of the circumstances that brought them together in the first place. She never said it in all those years, not once, but she did love him.

“We can make it work… we always do.” Tess tries to reason with him, but she has defeat in her voice.

“It’s too late for us, Tess.” Joel reaches a hand out to the side of her face and gently holds her. She removes her hand from his lap and wraps around his forearm and covers his hand with her own, leaning into his touch. The moment is intimate and despite a room full of people it felt like they were the only two. The unspoken love between them was always there as a thread to keep them together. This was not ending because the love was gone, it was ending because it had no more room to grow.

He could see that she was finally accepting what he was saying. At least she was trying to. He brushed his thumb over her cheek and reassured her with his touch that his feelings for her were not lost, but he was not going to give into them anymore.

“I need a clear mind.” He locks eyes with her as he takes his hand back. “I’m playing tonight.”

“You are?” She pulls away, surprised and easily distracted with the subject change. She looks down and eyes Joel’s guitar case leaning against the bar. “Singing too?” Joel nods. This feels familiar and comforting.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Tess’ smile fades and expression softens, filled with sadness. A realization that they had moved away so far from where they used to be. A silent moment lurks but it is not unwanted. It gives them both time to think.

“I never asked you for anything.” Tess utters quietly. Joel nods in agreement, silently reliving all the things he loved about her. Still loves about her.

“Never had to.” Joel gives a gentle side smile. Their eyes meet. Eyes that are intimate and mourning all at once. Hopeful and nostalgic.

He was always going to love Tess.

She stands to interrupt the silence and reaches for his hand to follow.

“Lets find Bill and Frank. I wanna sit with them while you play.”

“Alright.”

Joel leaves his guitar at the bar and follows close behind her. The room is getting more and more crowded by the minute. The first act is wrapping up and switching over to another singer. The bar is alive with excitement.

Following Tess into the crowd his heart drops. There you are, just a few tables in front of him, sitting at a hightop with Marlene. Dressed incredibly sexy with your short dress and your cropped leather jacket. Knee high boots and your hair flowy and free. He wished he could take you right there and have his way with you.

You looked so happy. So unaware of what was about to happen. Innocent and at peace.

Tess grabs his arm and pulls him towards your table, excited to see you and Marlene and she makes a beeline to say hello.

You shouldn’t be here. His brain screams and his heart races. His chest gets heavy and tight as he inches closer to your table, unable to stop the encounter. It was too late. You had already noticed him approaching when Tess called your name and you saw him in tow.

He should have told you from the start, but he didn’t. Even if nothing had happened with Tess since he started falling for you he was well aware how this was going to look.

He was finally making some progress with Tess and couldn’t risk that getting ruined. At your expense, too. There was no other way.

And he knew right at that moment he was the biggest asshole in the world.

[Reader POV]

You turn your head as you hear your name being called out. You see Tess first and just towering behind her is Joel. It was impossible to miss him with his broad shoulders and brooding scowl. For a brief moment, you light up to see him when your eyes catch his.

He was a sight to behold. Wearing a button up navy blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his tight forearms. Jeans hugging his body and perfectly accenting his burly frame. His hair was also slicked back and styled like he gelled it fresh out of the shower. The moody lighting masking his silver streaks more than usual. He looked absolutely delicious and it made you ache for him all over again. You had just put him out of your mind too. It didn’t take much to stir up those feelings again when your desire for him was relentless and insatiable. Your heart races, fueled by your longing.

Until you realize they are together.

A wave of dread washes over you. Joel immediately looks away from you in a panic, confirming your fear that something is wrong. He won’t look at you but you can’t take your eyes off of him and ignore everything else around you.

“This is my new star employee. She’s wonderful.” Tess lights up talking about you and playfully bumps into your shoulder. She is babbling on but you have no idea what she is saying because you aren't listening to her anymore. Too preoccupied with figuring out what was happening. Questioning why Tess was introducing you to the man you had been fucking for the past few weeks. The man who had naked photos of you on his phone. The man you were hopelessly besotted with.

Joel’s eyes glance up at you and for the first time ever he looks sheepish. He holds his hand out standard and practical. Emotionless like it's a formal business greeting.

“Joel. Nice to meet you.” You stare, dumbfounded by his words, spoken so nonchalant.

Nice to meet me?

He holds his hand out firmly, waiting for you to take it. His eyes plead with you to go along with it. You lightly grasp his hand. His fingertips drag tenderly as he pulls it away, as if they were apologizing. You say nothing but force a pathetic half-smile.

Tess clearly having one too many drinks hangs off of his shoulder and bumps into his hips. You try to hide the confusion and disgust on your face. Joel refuses to look at you again after your introduction.

He doesn’t reciprocate her energy at all. He looks like a lost dog. Uncomfortable and out of place. She seems oblivious to it, but you are dead focused on reading him to get some answers while she carries on talking. He is a stone wall, giving you nothing.

Marlene says something in response and the two of them laugh but you can’t hear anything but muddled voices over the loudness of your thoughts.

Joel nods at whatever she says but is silent. He looks so distant like he wants to shrink away. Guilty and cowardly.

Every piece of your being wants to scream. What is going on? You don’t want to assume anything. Maybe they are friends and you are overreacting. But then why wouldn’t he have said something sooner? Why did he pretend not to know you? Why won’t he even look at you? The questions keep piling up and your stomach is in knots.

“Come on, Joel.” She hooks her hand around his arm to pull him along. You’ve never seen him act so submissive. “See you girls later.”

As he brushes past you he catches your arm when no one is looking and he gives you the softest brush with the back of his hand. He tries to be inconspicuous and whispers in your ear as he passes.

“I’m so sorry.” His words stab you. They sound sincere and painful but offer no comfort or answers.

As Joel and Tess disappear into the crowded room of people, Marlene is quick to notice you are in your head but brushes it off as being a little drunk.

“God they are annoying.” Marlene shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink. You hear her talking, but still not really listening. You are preoccupied watching Tess take a seat a few tables away and see Joel make some brief small talk and wander off in the direction of the bar.

They didn’t look romantic, at least not from his angle. Are you just overreacting? The alcohol is probably just making you paranoid. You hate how insecure he makes you feel. The reality is that the more time you spend with him the harder it is to be apart. He was unlike any man you had ever been with on so many levels. He made you feel so needy for his attention, and jealous that he was with Tess in some capacity, instead of you. You feel foolish.

A singer briefly performs a song and the room gets loud again as voices rise between sets. You are silent and disassociating with everything around you, unsure if it's the buzz from the alcohol or your serotonin working overtime to calm you down.

“You ok?” Marlene asks.

“Yeah…”

Marlene prys. “You don’t look ok.”

It was obvious from that awkward moment earlier that she knew Joel. You wanted to spill and tell her everything and pick her brain, but your suspicions made you question where her loyalties may lie. You had never told her who your neighbor was and now you felt trapped and alone with this secret.

“I just need another drink.” You laugh and play it off coolly. “Gonna grab one at the bar, be right back.”

As you walk to the back of the room you take note of Tess still sitting at the table and talking to a few guys. It looks like they are familiar and catching up. Joel is standing at the crowded bar at the very end, mostly tucked away and probably how you missed seeing him sooner because you weren't looking for him. Against your better judgment you approach him.

You squeeze into the space next to him and try to keep a little distance from him, but your bare thigh rubs up against his leg as you step in and the person to your left pushes into you. He stays facing straight ahead and doesn’t acknowledge you, except to move his leg from its wide posture. His scowl works overtime to keep his composure. He takes a sip of his beer.

You hail the familiar bartender with your empty glass. He winks and goes to make you another. Drink three and he already has your order memorized and was probably hoping to get your number.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” Your voice is a little shaky, wavering through your anger and confusion.

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods, still staring off ahead.

You pause, waiting for him to say more, but he doesn’t. Your eyes bore into him and his ignoring you is making you fume more and more. You try to read him, and see the subtle changes as he gets more and more frustrated that you are not getting the hint to leave him alone.

“So… explain?” You push his chest, try to pry the information out of him. His jaw tenses. Glowering and annoyed. His calm facade being chiseled away by your incessant need for answers.

Joel looks at you with cold eyes. Sad eyes. Eyes you do not recognize. He recoils at your touch. Makes you feel like a dirty secret. He tips back his beer and downs the rest of the bottle.

“Can you please fucking say something?” You beg. You are annoyed at how he is acting. He was clearly frustrated by your being there and that anger was festering by the minute.

“This isn’t the time.” He says unphased by your request.

The bartender interrupts you to hand you your drink and gives Joel the side eye, no doubt noticing how prickly he was and how much your demeanor had changed from earlier.

“What are you staring at?” Joel snaps at the bartender. His intimidating tone was low but it was threatening. His misplaced anger was looking for any way to escape.

“Relax, bud.” He puts his hands up in a submissive gesture and backs off. He glances back over to you but you look away and don’t make eye contact with him again.

“She ain't’ interested.” He threatens and somehow makes himself look even bigger. The bartender nods with a knowing smile that might as well say ‘not worth the trouble’ as he grabs Joel’s empty beer bottle and moves on. He wasn’t interested enough to contest with Joel.

You hate how much it turns you on to see him get protective over you. His mixed signals were giving you whiplash. You suspect and even hope that his lashing out and acting this way is just a tactic to get you to leave the matter alone for now. It wasn’t going to work with you though. You were not afraid of him or intimidated.

His fingers curl over the counter and he flexes them, agitated. He taps his fingers in a rolling motion and pushes himself away from the bar with the heel of his hand.

“You should go home.” His words hurt and are spoken with finality through dark eyes that penetrate you. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“No.” Your brows furrow at the audacity. “I want to talk now.” You demand.

Joel ignores you and pushes past you to get to the back hallway. He makes you feel insignificant and like you are just an obstacle in his path to walk around. It makes you even more angry.

You tip back the bulk of your drink dangerously fast and follow him. There were so many people, no one was really paying attention to you and Joel, so why was he acting like this?

You stumble down the corridor to the bathrooms, instantly regretting your choices to drink so recklessly. It makes you feel gross and desperate that you have to chase him someplace so dark and secluded.

With his back to you he balls his hand into a fist and knocks on one of the bathroom doors with enough force to startle anyone in earshot. Someone inside yells that they need a minute.

He puts a hand on his hip and the other drags down his face as he paces and turns towards you. He knew you would follow. He fans his hand out in your direction, pleading with you to let this go.

“I said later.” His words sound tired from your persistence. He looks you up and down and you see something else in his eyes. Behind the anger, the hunger for you is still there.

“Joel.” Your anger starts to cool when you see how agitated he is. Afraid that you are just making everything worse. Maybe you should just leave this alone until later. You could be making a scene over nothing.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he speaks slowly and deliberately, trying to keep himself calm. You try to hold it back but you can’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. Impatiently he bangs on the door again and an angry yell returns, calling him an impatient prick.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.” You are not sure why you are the one defending yourself here. You feel the room spinning and reach to brace yourself on the wall before you stumble. The alcohol and the adrenaline of being afraid to lose Joel was just becoming too much.

Joel reaches out to you and grabs your wrist to steady you. He leads you a bit further down the hall, and just at the end is a small and dark alcove with storage boxes. You can still hear the loudness of Copper’s echoing through the hallway but at least it feels more private. Trashy, but discrete.

You back yourself against the wall, feeling overwhelmed by everything and your anger vanishing into nothing but hurt. Joel stands across from you with his arms crossed. He takes a deep breath.

“Listen. This ain’t got anything to do with you. Ok?” Now is your turn to respond with silence. You have a thousand questions but no words manage to come out, instead a tear drops down your face. You wipe it away quickly but he already noticed it.

“Sweetheart.” He closes the gap between you and holds your face in his hand, wiping his thumb over the wet trail on your cheek. You look up at him with glossy eyes and he looks pained to see you so upset. “Please don’t.”

You feel foolish crying given the real probability of infidelity. Still, you lean into his touch, craving the contact with him that he had been denying you. Soaking in his warmth and pushing the negative thoughts as far away as possible.

The heat from his cock feels so good against you, and you can feel him harden slightly when you push your hips into him. Even through tears your body can’t say no to Joel. His body towers over you and makes you feel calmer being in his clutches.

He sneaks a hand up the side of your leg and slips it under your dress. You feel his breath hot on your neck as he kisses you there. His scruff scrapes against the soft meat of your neck and makes you come undone. He presses his mouth into you, hedonic and greedy.

His thumb slides under the thin straps of your panties and he draws circles on your hip bone, dancing dangerously closer to your center. He doesn’t cross the threshold, and with restraint he slides his hand around to your hip over the top of your dress. He presses his forehead into yours and holds you there for a brief moment, relishing having you in his grasp.

As soon as the heated moment starts it fades and Joel takes a step back, holding you at arms length. With a desperation in his eyes, he speaks.

“Go home.” His words hurt. “Please. Go home.”

He turns and leaves you alone in the hallway, disappearing into the crowd. Discarding you like an unwanted problem. A mistake. Something to acknowledge only in the dark.

You feel absolutely blindsided and used and you don’t even know what is going on. You slide your back down the wall and curl your arms around your knees, hugging yourself. You have never felt more alone and abandoned. You hold yourself harder to keep back the tears.

Moments later you hear footsteps and a familiar voice rattles you back to earth. It’s Marlene, knocking on one of the bathroom doors asking if you are inside. You regain your composure and bring yourself to your feet and walk sheepishly towards her from the alcove. You adjust your dress and hair, both a little disrupted by Joel.

“There you are! Is everything ok? I’ve been looking for you.” You turn to face her and do your best to look composed and calm.

“Yeah I was just feeling my drink and had to get away for a minute.” You are a terrible liar.

“Uh huh...” She reaches her hand out and wipes some black makeup that still lingered on your cheek. “Don’t tell me you’re crying about that guy you’ve been seeing?” She tries to guess what could have you so upset. You fake a laugh and try to throw her off. She notices your messy hair. “Or did you makeout with that bartender that was hitting on you?” she asks excitedly.

“Nothing like that. I’m fine. Really.” You say with confidence but she is still skeptical. You take a few steps down the hallway. The words Joel begged of you before leaving you replay over and over.

“Hey, do you… know that guy?” You struggle to get his name out. “Joel?” She looks at you puzzled. Inquisitive. Amused at your question.

“Everyone knows Joel Miller.” She stares at you, her expression trying to hide some judgment but can’t resist. “Why?”

You don’t answer and just stare off blankly. You feel like a total idiot. A used trollop. She tries to read between the lines, assuming your drunk ass is crushing on him.

“Don’t get involved with Joel.” She warns and hooks her arm in yours and leads you back to the main room.

Your table had been scarfed up which was no surprise. There were so many people.

You are floating between being too drunk and carefree and on the verge of a mental breakdown. For now, the alcohol was keeping you afloat. This wasn’t the time or place to deal with whatever was going on with Joel and you were not in the right frame of mind to handle it.

You made up your mind. You were going to stay and try to salvage what was left of your night. You would stay clear of Joel. Why should he get to tell you what to do? You lose your footing and stumble but Marlene balances you.

“Ok… you need to drink water.” She mothers you and takes you by the shoulders to lead you back to the bar.

“Yes, mom.” You muster up a joke and take a deep breath.

Another half hour passes. You don’t see Joel but you don’t look for him either. You don’t want to see him or want him to see you. The water helps sober you up just slightly. The music is loud but soothing as it occupies your headspace. The current act was a man and woman duo singing something moody and playing guitar. They played a few songs and then the MC shared that they had just one more performer for tonight.

You lazily look at your phone and it’s so much later than you realized. You turn to ask Marlene if she is ready to go when you see him, walking towards the stage with a guitar slung on his back. Joel was the final performer? You watched him walk up to the stage with disbelief. He wanted you to go home so you wouldn’t see this? It felt forbidden to look and of course you needed to.

You had no idea he was the musical type. Realizing now you didn’t know much about him at all, apparently. The thought of that makes you feel sick.

You feel numb to everything around you. Maybe it was all just a bad dream. It had to be.

He takes his seat on a stool in front of the mic, propping up his guitar on his lap and strums a few chords. The audience is awakened. You hear people mumbling to their friends that they can’t believe Joel is playing again.

Apparently everyone but you.

You want to be angry. Upset that he was so deceptive to you and kept his life so secret. Dismissive about your desire to understand.

Your body betrays you, fluttering at the sight of him. The room is darkened and the light shining on him makes him look even more gorgeous, casting harsh shadows that accent his tight body. His silver streaks in his slicked hair catching the light and his broad frame defined perfectly in his well fitting shirt. His watch reflects the light as he positions his hand to cradle the neck of his guitar. His forearm flexes as he guides his hand over the strings. It makes you wet.

“This one’s…. for Tess.”

Your heart stops.

His voice wavers as he looks down to his guitar, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The room is deadly silent. He has everyone’s attention. You are certain your heartbeat is the loudest thing as you are filled with panic.

Did you hear that right?

He strums his guitar and a low and gravelly voice follows.

Love will abide

Take things in stride

He said… Tess?

Sounds like good advice

But there's no one at my side

You feel a pit in your stomach.

And time washes clean

Love's wounds unseen

He said Tess.

That's what someone told me

But I don't know what it means

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

The profound sadness in his voice hurts. It cuts you like a knife. His guttural but steady low singing moves you. You would never, but it makes you want to run up to him and hold him.

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

You hate this. Being in this moment, trapped. It felt like listening to a private conversation. Still, you can’t look away.

Caught in my fears

Blinking back the tears

I can't say you hurt me

When you never let me near

The sharpness in his tone is notable and you see him clench his teeth at those words.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

The pit in your stomach grows as your fears are being realized before your eyes.

And I think it's going to hurt me

For a long, long time

Joel was in love with her.

Wait for the day

You'll go away

Knowing that you warned me

Of the price I'd have to pay

You look over to where Tess was sitting earlier. She looks hurt and fragile, masked by anger. Not like anything you had seen before. You pity her. You pity yourself.

And life's full of flaws

Who knows the cause?

Living in the memory

Of a love that never was

Joel is hurting. Whatever their relationship was, he certainly wanted it to be different.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and change your mind

And you are just a toy for him to play with. You need to leave. You need to be anywhere but right here.

And I think I'm going to miss you

For a long, long time

Suddenly the room is spinning. You are going to be sick. The alcohol and anxiety inside you mix together and you feel like you can’t breathe.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

And I think I'm gonna love you

Joel looks up and his eyes accidentally find yours for the briefest moment. An unintentional stare. He looks away and down at his guitar, no doubt outraged that you didn’t go home. That you saw him spill his heart and soul out to another woman.

For a long, long time.

Angry that you caught him cheating. The only truth you know.

The loudest silence follows as he strums the last chord. Then, the room erupts in applause and many people stand up to clap and cheer. Even the drunkest person could have watched that performance and felt his pain. You suspected few people realized it was so good because it was so honest.

Marlene looks over at you and can clearly see how ghostly and unwell you look. You shake your head and try to hold back the flood of tears welling up in your eyes.

“Can we… can we go? Please?”

“Yeah, of course.” Marlene puts an arm around you and helps you up. The tears start falling and you can’t stop it. You can’t hold back the flood of sobs and emotion leaving your body.

“Whoa… Whats wrong?” She puts her hand on your cheek and tries in vain to wipe the tears away. Looking extremely concerned and no doubt piecing things together.

You can’t even think properly. You gasp at the air to save you.

“I just need to get out of here.”

You glance up to the stage and Joel has already left it. Probably going to his lover or whatever the fuck that was all about. That sickness feeling surges back. You want to throw up. You want to disappear and erase every moment you had with Joel.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

To be continued...

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

Comments / Reblogs are so incredibly appreciated 🧡

Thank you to @magpiepills for being my wonderful beta, ily 🧡

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#joel miller x reader #jmrecs #Ally

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crushmeeren · 2 days ago

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ᝰ ILLUMI WHO FUCKS YOU BEHIND HIS PARENTS BACK .ᐟ

master list link

༝ ᭝ ༝ just a little blurb, maybe I could circle back and expand in the future? this is kind of all over the place, but i love illumi and this my first hxh work! ༝ ᭝ ༝

The rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall steals your attention, the murmuring chatter of the other three people in the room muffling as you zone out. It’s mindless, the way your fingers trace over the dark mark sticking out against the conference table like a neon sign. The rich mahogany is smooth, not a splinter in sight.

Your chair creaks when you shift your weight, eyes rolling in annoyance when your foot tingles with pins and needles, the appendage forcing itself awake.

For how rich they are, you’d think the Zoldycks could afford comfortable seats at the very least.

A much larger hand covers your own, halting your repetitive tracing, and you shift your head to the left to be met with your father’s firm gaze, his mouth set in a line. You glance across the table to Silva’s serious expression, then to Illumi’s blank one.

You lock eyes with the younger Zoldyck and something hot jolts in your belly, a deep ache settling between your legs. You linger a bit too long before returning your focus to your Father, who removes his hand from yours. You clear your throat, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Yes, father?”

He raises an eyebrow, somewhat amused but hiding it well. “Did you hear anything that was discussed?”

Heat crawls up the back of your neck and into your cheeks, but you manage to keep your features neutral. “No, I’m sorry Father.”

“Silva and I have agreed to allow you to work with Illumi on this mission. We feel it’s best to have you both there,” your Father explains, gesturing towards Illumi. You blink twice, spine straightening, and your pride refuses to let you peak at Illumi and gauge his reaction. You know it’s non existent.

You hesitate, then nod. “I understand Father,” you assure. You turn to Silva with your chin raised. “I’ll be an asset to this mission. I won’t hinder Illumi.”

The soft rustle of Illumi shifting, like he can’t sit still, does not go unnoticed by you.

Silva looks as pleased as he’s capable of and dips his head in acknowledgment. “See to it that you are. Illumi does not fail, and if this mission falls apart, you’ll be the one who is punished.”

“She will not fail,” your Father interrupts, tone sharp at the edges. “She is just as capable as Illumi.”

Your Father and Silva stare each other down for a few tense seconds before Silva concedes, nodding once.

“Very well.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

“Illumi, fuck,” you moan, tightening your fingers in his soft hair as your lids flutter. Your breath hitches when he sucks the sensitive skin of your inner knee between his lips, intent on leaving a dark hickey. “You know you’re gonna get in trouble if— oh god!” You squeak. Illumi’s teeth bite down harder in an effort to stop you from continuing your sentence. “If your Father finds out, Illumi.” You emphasize his name with a pointed yank to his hair.

Said man’s warm tongue suddenly sweeps up the crease between your pussy and thigh, causing your hips jerk in the direction of his mouth, eager for what comes next.

The dingy white walls and scratchy sheets of the motel bed do nothing to curb the warmth that’s running thick and honeyed in your veins.

Illumi settles fully on his belly, placing his thumbs on either side of your pussy and spreads you apart. He distracted for a split second by how slick he’s gotten you, running his thumb over your pussy before meeting your heavy lidded stare with a bored one. The only evidence of his arousal is the dark pink flush on his cheeks.

And his rock hard cock.

“Why are you concerned with that now?” He asks, tone somewhat annoyed. “You’re aware I’m not bothered by that.” Illumi’s tongue flicks your clit, determined to refocus on the drool worthy sight in front of him. “Don’t you want me to eat your pussy?”

You curse, drawing your knees up and let your thighs fall open as wide as they can. “You know that I do.”

“Then stop whining.”

Illumi’s skilled. He’s precise and to the point, especially when it involves getting you to cum on his tongue. Then he’s in your face, leaving a few inches to separate you as his hair surrounds you, shielding you both from the outside world. When it’s the two of you, the pressure to be perfect fades to background noise.

One hand plants itself by your head, the other gripping the base of his shaft to steady himself. The slick tip bumps your clit, a brief, bright pleasure sparking in your pelvis, and then he shifts down to press forward and slide home.

Your moan is simultaneous with Illumi’s. His jaw clenches tight, eyes pinching together before flashing back open.

“Move,” you command. The assassin, who’s never this compliant, drags his hips back halfway and pushes forward smoothly. The glide is so fucking slick, so fucking hot, and you loop your arms around his neck, tugging until his sweaty forehead lands on yours. The steady roll of his hips builds to a quick pace, the filthy smack of skin colliding filling the room.

Illumi won’t last long. Not after a mission like the one you’d had. It went well, but there was a tremendous amount of fighting, and the tense line of his shoulders shows how worked up he is. He starts to whine with every other breath, dark eyes intense and locked with yours.

Illumi grips one of your legs and shifts it until your knee hooks over his elbow, cock striking your g-spot with each pointed thrust. You cry out his name, pulling him as close as you can despite the awkward angle, and he starts to twitch inside you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers in a rush, breath hitching as he catches your lips in a kiss, all the emotion he struggles to voice shining through. He sucks on your lower lip and it’s over, pussy fluttering and squeezing Illumi until he makes a choked off sound, surging forward until his balls are snug to your ass. He cums with a broken moan, and you swallow the noise like you’re dying of thirst.

There’s little fanfare after, just a quiet moment where you hug him tight, prompting him to sneak his hands underneath your back to return the gesture. The embrace is sticky and sweaty, overheated.

Illumi places his forehead on your collarbone, brushes his lips over the swell of your breast and pants as he catches his breath. The knowledge that even someone as cool and collected as Illumi needs a moment to gather himself when he’s with you steadies your thundering heart.

“I couldn’t be bothered to care what my Father’s opinion is. At least, not when it comes to you.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Illumi’s quiet laugh is the best thing you’ve heard all night.

#illumi x reader #illumi smut #illumi zoldyck #hxh illumi #hxh zoldyck #hxh x reader #hxh smut #hxh headcanons #illumi headcanons #hxh #hunter x hunter

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judesmoonbeauty · 3 days ago

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𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

One morning, after I made my unbreakable promise with Jude.

Kate: [Screen Jolt] Uwaah!

I woke up with a shock.

Kate: W-w-w-why….

Jude: How long ya gonna sleep, damned commoner?

Kate: You’re in my room!

As Jude grabbed me by my chin and locked with my flustered gaze, another face peeks out from the corner of my eye.

Ellis: Good morning, Kate. Hehe, your bangs are sticking up, it’s so cute.

(Ellis?!)

Kate: Hey, hey…..what’s going on?

Jude: Get ready in three seconds.

He roughly tossed me away by my chin, and I bounced back onto the bed.

Kate: Three seconds? Where are we going?

Ellis: To our other workplace.

(Other….workplace?)

We entered a building marked Raven Co.

Kate: ….Raven Company.

This is the trading company run by Jude.

They have branches overseas, and do an extensive range of business….That’s what Ellis told me along the way.

(Jude’s the president and Ellis is his employee.)

(I heard that Ellis is Jude’s assistant….)

The original line translates: “I heard that Ellis assists the company president, Jude.” I felt this was redundant, so I removed it.

It’s a amazing that he’s the president of such a prestigious company, and works for Crown.

As the three of us are walking inside, I listen to Ellis as he explains everything about the company….

Cheerful Young Man: President, Ellis, g‘mornin’.

Theodore also speaks in the kansai/osaka-ben dialect.

A young man with his hair tied up, bows slightly, and greets Jude and Ellis.

Jude: Mornin’.

Ellis: Good morning.

(Perhaps he’s an employee….)

Kate: Good morning.

When the young man spotted me behind them….

Cheerful Young Man: Whoa, what a real pretty youn’ lady! I see, ya must be Ellis’ girl.

Kate: Oh, no I…

Cheerful Young Man: Yer not? Then, couldja be the president’s?!

Cheerful Young Man: Ah —……That’s an unusual taste. Ugh!

The moment Jude kicked the young man, he crouched down, his face distorted with pain.

Jude: You’ve been twaddlin’ on all mornin’.

Jude: Why dontcha use that yappin’ gob of yers ‘n snatch us a sale?

Jude: Unless ya want a pay cut, then that’s a different story.

Cheerful Young Man: No! I can’t endure somethin’ like that.

The young man hopped up and enthusiastically waved both arms.

Cheerful Young Man: Well, I’m gonna go slave away for Raven company today tooo. See ya later!

(He was a very lively and cheerful person.)

Ellis: That’s Theodore Walker. He’s 21 years old and works in the sales department.

Kate: Hehe, he seems like a very kind person.

I can’t help but smile as I imagine his work-style.

(Now that I think about it, I’d like to learn more about the other employees and their jobs….)

Kate: Ellis, you’re the president’s assistant, right? What are your responsibilities?

When I asked Ellis so I could learn more about those around me, he told me as he recalled them.

Ellis: That’s right. Guarding, visiting clients, procurement confirmation, raiding….

(Uhhh? I heard some pretty troubling words just now….)

Kate: You sound busy. Anything else that you do?

Ellis: After that, there’s debt collections, fighting, and retaliation.

(That’s even more troubling…!)

Kate: I feel like I’m listening to the stories of new hires that got hired unintentionally at an unscrupulous company…

Swallowing the words “Criminal Organization,” I expressed my thoughts as tactfully as possible.

They literally have “Anti-Social Forces” written in English and it’s used in Japan to denote individuals or organized criminal groups, (AKA Yakuza and/or syndicates). I changed this to fit the setting of England.

Jude: The president of that unscrupulous company’s given ya a job.

Kate: Hey, you were listening?

Jude: Can ya not speak like yer interested? ‘Sides ya were shoutin.’

Jude: If ya got time to shout, then review these.

In front of Jude, there were lines of letter bins that were overflowing.

The mail that couldn’t fit in the bins were piled messily all over the desk.

Kate: Do you by chance, want me to organize all of this….

Jude: If ya were a postal worker, sortin’ letters should be a piece o’ cake.

Kate: Still, this is way too much for one person to handle!

(Even if I did this non-stop, it’ll take the the whole day…)

Jude: I’m leavin’ it to ya, so don’t complain.

[Answer: Option 3 - At least explain the job +4/+4]

Kate: You can at least explain the procedures, so I know what to do.

Jude: This’s what happens when yer raised a sheltered princess. Use yer head, are yer brains packed with sawdust?

His eyes looked down on me with contempt.

(Well, I’d rather accept the challenge than be made to look like an idiot.)

Kate: I’ll do it!

When I reflexively declared that, a thin smile formed on his lips.

Jude: Great. Be sure to finish by the time I get back.

Jude smiled in satisfaction and then turned on his heel.

Kate: Um, where’s Jude going?

Ellis: Business meeting in the VIP room with British department store.

Jude: Don’t mind ya taggin’ along, if ya think ya can be useful?

(He knows that I won’t be even a millimeter of a bit useful…..)

Kate: ….I’ll stick to sorting the mail.

Jude: Ha.

Jude scoffed and walked away.

(What’s with this sense of defeat….)

Ellis: Kate, would you like my help?

Kate: Ellis…..thanks.

The only thing that saved me - was Ellis’ gentle, encouraging smile.

In an empty room, I silently sorted the letters.

The faint scent of his preferred cigarettes wafted in the air as I kept my hands moving…..

Kate: This goes here, that goes there……hah! All finished!

When I spontaneously dropped myself onto the desk, Ellis, who’d been working on a task on the other side of a partition, applauded me.

Ellis: Nice work, Kate.

Ellis: You’re such a hard worker, that’s great.

Kate: It’s all thanks to you helping me during your free time, that I was able to finish so quickly, Ellis.

Ellis: I only helped a little bit.

Ellis: Kate, you did most of the work on your own, so give yourself some credit.

(Ellis is so sweet.)

(His angelic smile is so healing, and I get a little bashful when I see him….)

Being with him makes me feel like I’m immersed in a meltingly sweet jam.

(Now that I think about it, I still haven’t heard the reason why Ellis joined Crown.)

I wonder why such a kind person like Ellis is a part of the assassination organization “Crown”, that conquers evil with evil.

Kate: Hey, Ellis. Can I ask you something? It’s just a fairytale keeper question, but..

Ellis: You just finished work, and now you’re working as the fairytale keeper? Haha, you’re so eager about your work.

Ellis: Go ahead, ask me anything.

Kate: …..Why are you at Crown, Ellis?

Ellis: Hmm….I guess because Victor asked Jude, and Jude said okay?

Ellis: I met Jude before we entered Crown, and we’ve been together ever since.

Kate: So, that’s why you chose to follow Jude?

Ellis: Yeah.

(But, why did Jude accept the invitation?)

— To imagine his thought process.

Perhaps he thought that if he worked for Her Majesty, beneficial information for Raven would pour in.

(Be that as it may.)

Kate: I’m glad you didn’t get caught up in it Ellis…..

Ellis: But - we made a promise.

Ellis tenderly narrowed his eyes as he said that.

Kate: …..A promise?

Ellis: I’m waiting for the happiest moment of Jude’s life.

Ellis: In order to witness it, I must stay by his side.

Kate: Will that promise be fulfilled once Jude becomes his happiest?

Ellis: Yeah, that’s right.

(Jude’s happiest moment…..)

I try to imagine it, but I can’t imagine his happiest moment in the slightest because I’ve never seen him with a proper smile.

Kate: Ellis, what’s the promise you want to fulfill?

Ellis just smiled and evaded my question.

Ellis: But, it seems like that moment will never come. …..Jude’s always unhappy.

Jude: Yer bein’ noisy.

When Jude opened the door, he stood there with a sour look on his face.

The line directly translates: "When Jude opened the door, he stood there like he just crushed a bitter bug.” Nigamushi - means to give a soured look, as if one has swallowed a bitter bug. I altered the line.

Ellis: Oh, welcome back Jude.

Jude: Don’t yammer ‘bout unnecessary things.

Ellis: But, we have to cooperate with her fairytale keeper work, right?

Ellis winks at me and it encourages me also.

Kate: Jude, I’ve also got a question for you!

Kate: Why do you keep Ellis by your side?

Jude: Ain’t none of yer business what I do.

Ellis: Jude, Kate is your exclusive fairytale keeper. I think it has to do with that.

With Ellis’ support, Jude gave in with a deep sigh…..

Jude: This guy’s athletic abilities ‘n cursed power’re worth usin’. There’s no way I’d let valuable labor slip past me.

Jude: He’s definitely touched in the head though.

(He answered me…!)

Kate: Thanks for letting me know, Jude.

(Jude uses Ellis as a tool.)

(Ellis wants to fulfill a promise to Jude.)

Each are by the other’s side for the sake of their own benefit.

— The relationship between the two can be called a “contractual relationship”.

That day, I learned some important information about Jude for the first time.

[Main Story Master List] [Chapter 3]

I would just like to say that I was wheezing this chapter when I first read it. They really went into her room like that HELP! Also, I LOVE Theodore, he is this ball of sunshine that's total opposites to our grumpy prez.

Dividers: @.natimiles Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

If you wish to be added or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

#ikevil translations #cybird translations #ikevil jude #jude jazza #jude jazza translations #Jude Jazza Route #ikevil #ikemen villains

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magical-reid · 2 days ago

Text

A Little Something Extra

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 1.1K

Prompt 22: “You brought me breakfast?” “Well you said you always forget to eat before you go to work, so I thought I’d make sure you ate something.”

______________________________________________________________

It was another early morning in the BAU office, and the quiet buzz of activity filled the room. The coffee machine was working overtime, and the low hum of computers was accompanied by the soft shuffle of paperwork being passed around. In you usual spot near the windows, you were hunched over a stack of files, trying to make sense of the case that had been keeping you up for the last few days. There were too many details to sift through, and your brain felt like it was running on fumes.

You had told yourself that today would be different. You promised you'd take better care of yourself. You'd eat breakfast, take breaks, and not let the case consume you. But here you were, the morning slipping by, and you hadn’t had more than a few sips of cold coffee.

The sudden, unexpected sound of footsteps brought you back to the present. Looking up from your paperwork, you were met with a familiar face—Spencer Reid, looking more put-together than usual. He was carrying a tray with a bagel, fresh fruit, and a coffee cup with your name on it, balancing everything with an almost comical level of concentration.

You blinked, slightly confused. “You brought me breakfast?”

Spencer smiled sheepishly as he set the tray down on the corner of your desk. He’d already taken the time to carefully arrange everything as if he knew exactly what you liked. “Well, you said you always forget to eat before you go to work, so I thought I’d make sure you ate something.”

You leaned back in your chair, surprised at the thoughtful gesture. Spencer wasn’t exactly known for being overtly expressive with his feelings, but every now and then, he'd do something that made you realize just how much he paid attention to the little things.

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow. “You remembered that?”

Spencer's smile widened a little, but there was a trace of that characteristic nervousness in his eyes. “Of course. You’ve mentioned it a few times. And, well, I know how important it is to stay fueled, especially when we're dealing with, you know... all this.” He gestured to the mountain of case files on your desk.

You stared at him for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flip. How did he always manage to do this? The little things, the quiet ways he showed that he cared—they added up. They meant more than you could say. You took a deep breath and smiled, your voice softening. “That’s really sweet of you, Spencer. Thank you.”

He looked slightly embarrassed now, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the tray as he cleared his throat. “I just thought... maybe you’d be able to concentrate better if you ate something. You know, breakfast helps with focus and energy levels, and I—”

You cut him off with a quiet laugh, reaching for the bagel and pulling off a piece. “Spencer, I’m sure you know all the scientific reasons why breakfast is important, but honestly, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m just... kind of terrible about remembering to eat.”

He shrugged, but his expression was still warm. “It’s no trouble. I know how intense these cases can get, and sometimes you forget to take care of yourself when you’re too focused on the work. I thought this might help.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a mixture of appreciation and affection. “It definitely helps,” you said, taking another bite of the bagel. “And I think this is exactly what I needed.”

Spencer smiled, looking slightly less nervous now as if relieved that you weren’t going to make it awkward. He adjusted his glasses and stood back, a little uncomfortable but trying his best not to show it. “Well, I’ll leave you to your paperwork. I just wanted to make sure you were eating.”

Before he could turn to go, you quickly reached for the coffee cup he’d brought and held it out toward him. “Hey, would you like to sit for a second?” you asked, your voice soft, the invitation clear. “I don’t mind the company.”

Spencer’s eyes flickered to the seat across from you, then back to you, surprised. “Oh... I mean, I’d love to, but I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

You waved him off, smiling. “I’m already behind, but a break wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you brought me breakfast. The least I can do is share a few minutes with you.”

Spencer seemed a little flustered but pleased. He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, taking a moment to adjust his posture, as though he were preparing for some deep conversation. When he spoke again, it was in his usual, thoughtful tone.

“So... how’s the paperwork going?”

You gave a small sigh, rubbing your eyes. “It’s slow going. We have a lot of details to connect, but I’m still trying to make sense of the pattern.”

He nodded, immediately falling into his element, discussing the finer details of the case with ease. His deep knowledge and sharp mind were always a comfort, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the quiet way he always made you feel heard, understood.

As you listened, nibbling on your breakfast and sipping the coffee he’d thoughtfully brought, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Spencer was always a little awkward in his own way, but the way he cared—it was something you couldn’t ignore. The small gestures, the careful consideration, the fact that he’d remembered something as simple as your bad habit of skipping meals... It meant more than you could express.

“So, you know,” you said, breaking into his focused chatter, “I’m actually really glad you brought me breakfast. It’s like... the perfect little reminder to take care of myself.”

Spencer blinked, then paused mid-sentence, his cheeks flushing a little. “Well, you should... you deserve to be taken care of,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, but there was a sincerity in it that made your heart flutter.

You looked at him, your gaze softening. “Thank you, Spencer. You always know just what I need.”

He gave a small, almost shy smile in response, but there was something in the way he looked at you—a flicker of something more, something deeper.

You knew that, for all his brilliance, Spencer had always been a bit of a mystery when it came to feelings. But in this moment, as you shared breakfast together, you didn’t need any more words to understand. He cared. And that meant everything.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x yn #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid series #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds series #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #magical-Reid #requested

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levisonlylover · 2 days ago

Text

"Don't disrespect your mother."

You and your son, Leo were having a disagreement. Your son is a teenager, and you know that teenagers love to rebel. Leo snuck out last night and you and Levi caught him in the act. “Leo, how many times do I have to tell you? You aren’t allowed to go out especially at this time of night.” You told him, obviously irritated at Leo for sneaking out once again. “Why are you so invasive of what I do, Mom!?; It’s not like I’d get killed.” Leo tried to defend his side, but then again, he was in the wrong. You and Levi had already set a curfew for his time outside. Levi wouldn’t usually interfere since he would always let you settle it down (especially with his temper), But he’d interfere once in a while if needed. “Leo, That’s not the point. The point is we have set a CURFEW for these types of times. And you don’t follow that curfew, you are grounded for a month.” You said, settling it down to also know that his actions have consequences. “You can’t do that mom! You are being unfair and selfish.” Leo replied, feeling really upset. Leo didn’t think of what he said till Levi finally interfered. “Hey! That’s your mother you are talking to. Do not speak to her like that. She grounded you for a reason.” Levi said, feeling really upset. Levi held his temper in, not wanting to cause any more trouble. “You had a curfew, Leo. And since you didn’t follow that curfew, you get a consequence. And your mother has been generous enough to even let you go out once in a while.” Levi added trying to make a point to his son. “Do not ever talk to your mother like that again.” He finalized as he looked at Leo. Leo nodded in agreement and apologized. “I’m sorry mom, I shouldn’t have said that.” You acknowledge his apology “I know, but you’re still grounded for a month.” You said replying to his apology. Leo sighs in defeat and went to his room. You and Levi look at each other and knew it was time for some shut eye.

@levi501ackerman here you go!

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #levi attack on titan #levi aot #aot levi #captain levi #levi heichou #levi fluff #levi #levi thoughts #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi x you #snk levi

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milktiicup · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! I’ve never requested anything before so i’m not even sure if this is where I send it to you, but fingers crossed :D I have two requests, not that you should do both, but because I couldn’t make up my mind on which I wanted to send. (Also i’m requesting these as a female reader but you can decide if you want it to be strictly female or not.)🤍🤍

First one, (Homicipher, Mr. Crawling) (And if you write for plus-sized readers) Where the reader has gotten their clothes dirty and gets offered the wedding dress, but knew she wouldn’t be able to fit in it? And Mr Crawling comes and finds them upset and tries to help or make them feel better.

Second request for Homicipher Mr. Crawling, where the reader has gone to their world with their friend, but the friend dies/gets killed, and the reader is inconsolable and can’t stop crying, and Mr. Crawling tries to soothe them (Maybe trying to get other monsters to help him).

the gift of belonging!

You force a small smile, weak and unconvincing, and give a slight shake of your head. “It’s… really beautiful. Thank you. But I don’t think it’s going to work for me.”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ i did the first one if that was okay!? sorry this is a bit cringe or not what you wanted >w<

warnings. plus sized!afab!reader, insecurity, cringe writing, the bride is a cutie patootie

The Bride holds the pretty white dress in her gloved hands. The soft fabric gleams under the dim light, pristine and delicate. You can only imagine she’d be donning a cute, girlish smile if she had a head, her childlike excitement radiating through her aura as she presents her gift to you. Your lips tug into a frown, the corners heavy with the weight of reality.

The dress is truly gorgeous. The lace is intricate, the bodice peppered with delicate embroidery, and the fabric flows like water in her hands. You can feel the unspoken invitation in her silence as she holds it out, but you can’t find it in yourself to reach for it.

Your mind trips over the obvious truth. There’s no way. You know, just by looking at the dress, that it won’t fit. The cinched waist, the narrow bust- it was never made for someone like you. It wasn’t designed with your body in mind, and the thought stings more than you’d like to admit.

You force a small smile, weak and unconvincing, and give a slight shake of your head. “It’s… really beautiful. Thank you. But I don’t think it’s going to work for me.”

The words sound hollow in your ears. She doesn’t push, instead slowly lowering the dress to the floor. Is she hoping you’d change your mind? You can tell she doesn’t fully understand why you refused, but she doesn’t question it either. She drifts away quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound as she retreats, leaving you alone with the heaviness that’s settled in your chest.

You slump against the wall, lowering yourself until you're touching cold concrete. You lip quivers. Your body feels sticky with blood and grime. You sniffle, blinking back the tears threading on your eyelashes, and take a deep breath. There was no use getting upset- you had to find something else to wear.

“You okay?” You almost jump out of your skin, and right now, you really wanted to. “Hurt? Pain? …Troubled?”

“Mr. Crawling.” You offer a dim smile.

He settles next to you, mirroring you with his knees to his chest. He still towers over you. Mr. Crawling doesn’t let out his usual sharp giggle. A frown tugs at his face. He places a hand on your head, patting your hair in a futile attempt to make you feel better.

“Why troubled?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing, really… “ The words catch in your throat as if you were suffocating. You scowl, nails digging into the flesh of your knees.

“You troubled,” he insists. “Talk, me. Me help.”

The genuine concern in his voice is like an attack on the defense you put up- shooting right through it. You sigh, eyes focusing on the depressing concrete of the floor.

“It’s just… the dress. It’s really nice, but it’s not for me.” You gesture vaguely at yourself, your cheeks heating with frustration. “I’d never be able to fit into something like that. And I ruined my clothes earlier, so it’s just- ugh, I don’t know.” You cover your face with your hands, the vulnerability bubbling up faster than you can stop it.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then you feel a soft, tentative touch on your arm.

“Clothes bad,” Mr. Crawling declares firmly, as if the dress itself is the villain in this story. You peek through your fingers to see him glaring at the discarded garment like it personally offended him. “No fit? Not for you. Not right.”

You let out a weak laugh, lowering your hands. “It’s not the dress’s fault. It’s just… I don’t think I belong in stuff like that.”

“Wrong.” His response is immediate, almost sharp, and his long arms reach out to wrap you up in his arms. His expression softens as he looks at you. “You belong. Pretty things, soft things. Belong you.”

You blink at him, your breath hitching as his words sink in. He shifts closer, his hands trailing down your arms gently, his cool touch comforting.

“Not need dress. You…?” He pauses, his brow furrowing as he searches for the right phrase. Then his lips curl into a small, sly grin. “Pretty. Lot of pretty. Much pretty!”

Your smile grows, butterflies dancing free in your stomach- but you pause.

Footsteps echo from the long hallway, and you can see the white glow from the Bride. She seems shy almost, kicking a heeled foot and holding something behind her. She reveals another dress- simpler in design, but still beautiful in its own right. The shape is more forgiving, the waistline relaxed, and the bust much more accommodating.

“Me give clothes,” she explains, voice soft. “Pretty clothes. For you. You want clothes?”

The Bride stands there, patient. Her gesture is humble and almost tentative now, the tension between you and her unspoken but present. The dress in her hands feels like a bridge, a silent offer, and it takes a moment for you to realize the magnitude of what she’s done.

You blink, unsure if you should reach for it, as if afraid to hope that maybe- just maybe- it’s a sign that something’s finally clicking into place. Mr. Crawling’s arms tighten around you, the cold of his touch a stark contrast to the warmth that spreads through you from the sight of the new dress.

You rise to your feet and take the dress with shaking hands.

“Thank you,” you say, a bright smile on your face. “It’s pretty. It’s perfect.”

“You like? Me glad!” The Bride clasps her hands together. “Goodbye!”

And she disappears, just like that.

You stare down at the fabric in your hands, the fabric melting between your fingers. The dress isn’t just something to wear- it’s something that fits you in a way you didn’t expect, both physically and emotionally. You can feel the weight of her kindness, the unspoken understanding of your struggle, wrapped up in the way she offered it to you.

“You like clothes?” Mr. Crawling asks.

“This is perfect!” you beam.

You can feel the warmth of his gaze on you as you hold the dress up, considering it for a moment longer. It’s no longer just a symbol of what you thought you couldn’t have- it’s a symbol of what you deserve. You deserve to feel good. You deserve to feel comfortable in your own skin. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to apologize for who you are, for what you look like, or for the size of the body you carry.

It feels amazing to be out of your soiled clothes, and in something so elegant, so pretty. You twirl for Mr. Crawling. He claps his hands, his giggle bouncing down the hallway like an audience just for you. You can feel the blush rising on your cheeks.

“Your clothes pretty!” Mr. Crawling grins widely. “Me glad. Me happy. You happy.”

“Hehe, thanks.”

“Pretty. Much pretty. You always pretty. Me like,” he says, as if it was the most simple thing in the world.

Your face burns. You reach down to his head, ruffling his long hair in something you can barely call a pat. He presses his face into your palm, giggling.

“You always say the nicest things, Mr. Crawling.”

He tilts his head as you pull your hand away. “Me good?”

“You’re good. Very good.”

#homicipher #mr crawling #homicipher x reader #mr crawling x reader #mr crawling hcs #mr crawling fluff #mr crawling headcanons #homicipher fluff #homicipher hcs #homicipher headcanons #homicipher bride #the bride

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parkersbliss · 3 hours ago

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if you’re willing to, how about 141 reacting to you saying “no one will hear you scream”? i know they’d all play the biggest uno reverse card, especially gaz because he just has such a sweet face you wouldn’t expect it.

I am always willing to!!! anon thank you for blessing me with this. you're so right like don't threaten the military men who are masters of stealth, now that's asking for trouble...

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x reader

warnings: um, gaz threatening you? actually, all of them threatening you bc you threaten them

a/n: see me personally I would not mess with this. and certainly not price.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Gaz:

It was easy to convince Kyle to come out here. In fact, he didn’t even think twice when you asked to go out on a hike. He had grabbed a light jacket, laced up his boots, and was out the door. He was an outdoorsman, after all, and any time he could spend with you was well spent. You weren’t going to hear an argument out of his pretty mouth.

It’s nicer this time of the year. Not too hot and not too cold with the leaves changing into the sunset colors. Honestly, you were glad you had come out here, even if it was because you had other intentions than some fresh air.

You were lagging behind Kyle, his hand flexing and calling for yours. You jog to grab his when you notice, swinging them as you approach a viewpoint.

You can overlook the area below you, coming up on a small cliff that showcases the changing leaves and sun. There’s a slight breeze that ruffles your hair, making the tips of your ears a little cold.

“It’s so beautiful,” Kyle breathes, taking in the view.

You nod, gazing out at the leaves tumbling in the wind. Then, with a practiced ease, you say: “No one would hear you scream out here.”

Kyle steps back from the edge, whipping around to look at you. “What?”

“What?” You ask dumbly.

“Don’t “what” me.” He points a finger at you. “I heard that shit.”

You step toward him, feeling guilty when you see his face. “Kyky-” you call.

“Nope!” He grabs something from his pocket, pointing it at you.

You put your hands on your hips, scoffing and stepping back. “You brought a taser?”

“And I’m not afraid to use it.” He continues to point the weapon at you as you take steps back. You were messing with your boyfriend, but your boyfriend was not messing with you.

“Babe, it was a joke!” You protest.

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, not so funny now, huh? No one could hear you scream.”

“Kyle!” You hiss at that, his point made.“Please put the taser away.”

“Please don’t threaten me,” he retorts, but relents and slips the taser back into his pocket.

“Why do you even have that?”

Kyle shrugs. “You never know. As you just proved.”

“Oh my god,” You said, walking back over to him tentatively. Once you’re close enough, he grabs your waist pulling you to his side. “Don’t ever say that shit again,” he whispers.

You glance at the taser in his pocket. “Lesson learned.”

Kyle smiles, kissing your cheek. “Ice cream?”

Ghost:

You take a deep breath, letting the crisp autumn air fill your lungs. It’s cold, cutting through the skin of your throat, yet at the same time it’s comforting. It’s much better than the humidity-laced air of summer at least. Where each breath you took felt like you inhaled oven air.

Simon glances over at you, cocking his head to silently ask what you were doing.

“Just taking in the air,” You said. “’s nice.”

He hums an agreement, walking along the stream you two were hiking. A few birds were chirping, leaves crunching under your boots, and the sound of water running over rocks. It’s a quiet you’re not used to from being in the military. That still doesn’t stop the idea from forming in your head.

“No one would hear you scream out here,” You muse, falling in step beside Simon. You say it casually, not looking at him. You act as if you had just asked where he wanted to get dinner tonight.

Simon, of course, is aware of everything. He stops walking, turning to you at an agonizingly slow pace. “Excuse me?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.” And continue along the trail.

He doesn’t follow you. You can tell when his footsteps aren’t echoing yours, a little slower and more steady. Instead, they fall silent on deaf ears. You can’t hear anything and the hair on the back of your neck stands up at the sudden stillness of the forest.

“Simon?” You call, turning to face him. And of course, he’s gone. You curse under your breath, spinning around to find him. You walk back to where he was, checking around the trees and the bushes. You shouldn’t threaten a lieutenant, the master of infiltration nonetheless. You peek around another tree, trying to get a view of him when a hand grabs your shoulder. You scream, throwing the hand off your shoulder and raising your fists. You come face to face with your boyfriend and drop your hands.

Simon stares at you, a deadpan look on his face with arms crossed. “What was that about no one hearing me or, should I say you scream?”

You swat at him. “It was a joke.”

“Damn right, it was. You think you could take me?” He begins walking again, offering his hand to you. He was a true gentleman even after he pulled that stunt. You really needed to learn to keep your eyes on him.

You lace your fingers together, sighing. “No.”

Simon is content with the answer, placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Let’s finish this hike without any other threats, hm, sweetheart?"

“It was a joke.”

“Mine wasn’t.”

“Simon—!”

Soap:

Johnny took convincing to go out for a walk. He was more inclined to spend his days on the couch, relaxing next to you. Not some boring “walk for fresh air.” He would argue he’d already gone on plenty of walks while deployed.

You dragged him out anyway, saying it’ll be good for him to do one without worrying about being shot at.

So here you are, on a quiet trail in your local park, pointing at the various colored leaves and their unique shapes.

“This is stupid,” Johnny said, kicking at a pinecone on the ground and sending it flying.

You roll your eyes, squeezing his hand, which was intertwined with yours in his jacket pocket. “You could humor me a bit.”

“What good would that do?”

You huff. “I actually quite like it out here.”

“‘m sure you do, love.”

You tap your chin with your free hand. An idea forming in your head to spice things up a bit. Or at least raise the stakes for your walk. “Like, no one would hear you scream out here, you know?” A mischievous grin curls on your lips as you look at Johnny with innocence.

“What?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. He knew what you said, just hadn’t quite processed the implications yet.

“I said, we can go get ice cream. As a peace offering.”

Johnny removes his hand from yours, taking a step back. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t want ice cream?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m actually tired. Thinking we should head back now.”

You jut your bottom lip out, enjoying the slight panic on his face. “Already?”

He spins on his heels. “Yep! Right now. Let’s go. Back in public. With people.” He urges, walking away from you at a brisk pace.

You laugh to yourself, jogging after him. He glances at you over his shoulder, clearly paranoid and you feel a little bad about it. His pace quickens and within seconds, he’s out of your line of sight and you sigh. Damn him.

You exit the trail, and back into the regular park, squinting your eyes to spot your boyfriend. You can’t find him anyway, which is weird because his mohawk makes him unmissable.

A hand taps your shoulder and you jump.

“Oh, relax,” Johnny said, holding out an ice cream cone for you. “We’re out of the woods now. Everyone would hear you scream here.”

You take the ice cream from him, glaring at him and his smug look as he remixes your words against you. “Not funny.”

“Now imagine how I felt. Except I wouldn’t really have a problem if people heard.”

“We’re going home.”

Johnny laughs madly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That’s all I wanted.”

Price:

You stand at the end of your hike, overlooking the view beneath you. The cliff dips into a valley, scattered with red and orange trees, the telltale sign of the approaching cold. The sun sits high in the sky, blessing you with a little warmth as the clouds drift through the breeze.

Price stands next to you, hands on his hips like a proud dad after completing the hike. He pushes his sunglasses to sit on his forehead, taking a deep breath.

“We should do this more often,” he said.

“We should,” you agree, watching a pair of hawks circle and dive. “It’s so peaceful out here.”

“So quiet,” Price added.

You hum. “No one would hear you scream.”

You knew the risk of saying something like that to your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help it. A little challenge for him.

Price doesn’t hesitate, he takes a step back from you, putting considerable distance between the two of you. His eyes scan the trees, the valley below, the space behind you — he’s clearly checking for any threats.

You take a step toward him and he holds up his hand. “No. Empty your pockets.”

“What?” You asked with a laugh.

“You wanna say shit like that? Empty your pockets,” He said again.

You stare at him, and you can see the serious look on his face. Within the minute you had uttered that sentence, you already regretted it. Leave it to John Price to take everything so seriously. Even when it was his girlfriend who could never hurt him. You sigh, dropping your phone, wallet, keys, tissues, and everything else. You stare at him. “Happy?”

“Hands up.”

“John!”

“Not hearing you out, darling.”

You begrudgingly raise your hands as he steps towards you, patting you down and inspecting the things you’ve dropped. “It was a joke.”

“Am I laughing?” His hands come to rest on your shoulders, squeezing them slightly. “Believe me, darling. You wouldn’t be able to scream before I drop you.”

You spin around to face him, a shocked look on your face. He had gotten you there. Price wouldn’t be stupid enough to let you make any noise.

“It was a joke,” He mocks you, a sly grin on his face.

You purse your lips, grabbing your things off the ground. “Point made.” Price grabs the rest of your belongings, handing them to you with that sweet smile of his.

“C’mon, let’s hike back down. We can go to your favorite sandwich place.” He places a hand on your back, leading you off the cliff.

“As long as you don’t slip poison into it.”

“No promises.”

-- END --

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