#bitters-enthusiast

[itscherryterry-again]

It'll Slip From Your Fingers (Don'tLetGo)

[gingerswagfreckles]

It's really depressing to watch your circle of allies get smaller and smaller and smaller as you realize just how many people are willing to cut you off and throw you under the bus if they think doing so might help them save themselves.

[2p42m]

|| i’ll eat you whole , i love you so 🥩

[petrichorium]

i would like to hear about how you and Capitano came to be. and also what his kisses are like. aaaand. where he likes to grab you most :3c

answering these out of order bc the first is Lengthy so its going under the cut....... capitano kisses me sooooooo gingerly tbh he has to hold himself back so much. if hes not careful he'll go in for a quick peck on his way out and suddenly he's got his tongue down my throat in front of all his aides and every servant in the manor 😭😭😭 when we r alone its less about propriety and more bc he doesnt wanna overwhelm me so its always a game of me goading him into something heavier.

i think he is a waist grabber above all else....... very prone to putting two big ol hands on either side to set me somewhere (his desk, the edge of the tub, a balcony railing, etc) and just not quite letting go.............. also a frequent corset ripper bc those damn things just get in the way too much. likes to run his fingers up my spine to make my back arch while his thumb is pressed into my stomach n kinda squeeze. and ofc a huge fan of slinging an arm around my waist n throwing me over his shoulder ty.

The full capitano story is sooooo long and convoluted i fear LMFAOOOOOO and possibly subject to change when he actually shows up pfft but for now its the selfship where i dabble in the dynamic being kinda fucked up 🫣 he actually kills my first suitor and then subsequently the two husbands i have before he swoops in and basically pulls rank to marry me himself. there r "valid" reasons for all three of these he'd like to think he would let me be if i found a good man but clearly im incapable of it so he fancies himself a bit of a guardian ig......... have said this before but he has creepy prinecess/knight in shining armor fantasies n justifies uh. killing all the men who have ever touched me w that.

the first one is just a suitor like i said; we’re not engaged yet but it’s all but an arranged marriage bc my family is. Basically being strongarmed into it. The kill happens at a hunt—I genuinely don’t know Capitano at all at this point, and he has No idea I exist.

i have to make my suitor a cutesy lil embroidered handkerchief as like a token of my affection but im like Hell No bc my suitor is A Piece Of Shit so i give it to capitano instead, bc hes so high ranking that my suitor cant rlly complain and he gets a lot so it doesnt rlly mean much. orrrrr rather it Shouldn't but jokes on me, he actually sees me hand it off to his aide and hes kinda Immediately infatuated.

so much so that when my suitor approaches him just before the hunt to basically wheedle him into handing it off, he refuses—in fact this specifically sparks a Very specific delusion of like. viewing me as a damsel in distress pleading for help.

its not premeditated at all but once the hunt begins he overhears my suitor and his friends saying some Very Rude And Then Explicit Things Abt Me and hes like nvm u have chosen death. its a hunt, nobodys gonna think anything of a stray arrow……….

and then when he sees my reaction (thinking it was an accident; feigned shock but Clearly relieved), im kinda done for, the obsession has sunk in. he keeps tabs on me from then on.

the first husband i marry like a year after the suitor’s death. he’s a fatui officer, one of capitano's own men who commands guards at zapolyarny palace. capitano still has not openly expressed interest and is in a bit of a self-deprecating moment of not wanting to approach me, and this guy’s one of his underlings and is v sweet and seems very into me so he lets it happen. we get married and for many years we r genuinely happy.

but then he starts to stray……. capitano learns of this quickly. he’s got informants still reporting p much everything i and everyone close to me do, so hes told when my husband starts frequenting brothels and spending a bit too much time out of the house. unfortunately hes out on a campaign so he cant take care of things himself; hes forced to transfer my husband to the front lines and let the battlefield finish the job.

which is fine, tho it means i never know about the cheating and for a good few years capitano deems me still too much in mourning for him to make a move—bc, like, from my perspective the love of my life had a terrible accident on the battlefield yk. he’s solidly decided hes the only one who can be trusted and Intends to finally make his interest known……. but he waits too long. he’s sent on a campaign which drags on far longer than intended and when he returns ive remarried.

the ceremony happened literal days before he arrived, so rushed his informants didn't even have the time to warn him. this one is another fatui, but the kind that grates on capitano. one of pantalone’s top men—a slimy financier with a gross little grin and fingers in every pie. a man far too assured when he seeks out capitano as soon as he settles in, walks into his office with the confidence of someone who knows more than he ought to.

he offers to whore me out. capitano isn't even sure what the man would have demanded in return, because he's cut him down the moment the words come out of his mouth.

he begins planning before the body is even removed, determined not to make the same mistakes again. frankly he'd have begun courting me that day but he gives me a bit of time to mourn first; lets me move back into my parents' home, keeps tabs on me enough to know when i finally begin to emerge from my chambers and allow visitation from friends.

the first ball i attend is when he approaches me. and it's hardly proper, he knows, to express such obvious interest in a widow of a mere few months, but he thinks my second husband would have done this if he could so capitano has no guilt. the marriage is so rushed he actually can't even attend—he's sent off on campaign suddenly before the ceremony, and though he's only supposed to be gone for a month he insists it proceed without him, all too anxious for what might happen if he doesn't lock me down.

and then it's a slow burn After we r married i fear bc i am so weepy and volatile for very obvious reasons n once im over that ive convinced myself it's a marriage of convenience (that he approached me bc i know how to manage a household and won't be too eager for his attention like a younger, less experienced bride would be) and he's actually. rlly flustered and a bit timid around me tho nobody would Know it lmfaoooooo hes terrified of scaring me off & is actually pretty content just seeing me around his manor so its a game of us flitting around each other for a while..........

eventually i think i do confront him bc we havent. consummated the marriage and that kinda ticks me off ("i get that it didnt mean much to you but damn u dont wanna touch ur wife that badly???") and hes like O.O bc HE was just leaving me to my own devices bc he didnt wanna overstep. very cliched i kiss him he gets a "if we dont stop now i wont be able to control myself" moment and then the floodgates r opened......... frankly its like a belated honeymoon the way we do Not leave my chambers for like two whole weeks. many confessions from him at that time i am v much left in a daze of holy shit wdym hes been in love w me for yrs and still has that handkerchief from when i was like nineteen

n e way thats it,,,,,, JKHSBDFJHB so long im sorry but there u go!!!

[hugsqueeze]

I hate to become this kind of guy but these smell soooo good 🤕

[disniq]

tags on your post where ppl were comparing jason & steph are baffling to me “to understand steph you need to read every comic appearance but with jason etc etc” why would anyone say that jaja like YEA i ofc rec reading every comic appearance of her bc she’s fun to read but as someone who has done exactly that i can promise you 😭 that you can understand her character after only reading maybe. 4 comics preceding the reboot

also i just truly don’t get this person’s need to compare the characters bc you really don’t need to drag one character down to lift the other up

Yeah, and don't get me wrong! I am ALL FOR reading as much canon material as you can stomach, because your pick and choose game is automatically better if you have more to pick and choose *from*.

But saying Jason should always be seen as an irredeemable villain because of a three issue cameo in 2009 during which he was both morally and physically unrecognisable from anything both before or after that run is like me picking up three random issues of War Games and deciding that actually, Steph is stupid, reckless, and irresponsible and has no business ever being considered a hero 😌

Like, by all means make posts about how Steph is an interesting and multifaceted character! I love Steph! But why do people feel the need to drag Jason through the mud like being a dick about it is gonna make Jason fans want to read more Steph, or Helena, or Cass, or anybody else for that matter.

[kaminokilljoy]

ik its my five billionth post about this but i wish more people would. idk actually be interested in being friends. instead of just looking at fucking instagram stories or something and never saying anything and calling it a day. especially if you explicitly said you're interested in being friends. like.

[ask-alf-oddworld]

I have heard rumors regarding the hypothetical arrival of strange neighbors. You'd better protect your tea

…

…Coffee drinkers…

…I knew it.

[metukika]

wip asks

how it works:

post the names of the files in your wip folder (regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous)

let people send you an ask with the title of what most intrigued them

post a snippet or tell them something about it

tag as many people as you have wips (if you want) (i aint doin that)

i got tagged. lol. thanks! ill keep it to mp100 wips cuz i aint continuing any of the older stuff. and i mean theyre all bad. just letting u know that these wips are also not great, which is one reasons theyre wips. aside from not knowin how to continue them. im not really actively writing anything rn i dont think. also theyre pretty short so like :p

anyways these are the contenders if anyones interested

shouteru theres i in sin the afterplan unteru photo (listen ive never been good at titling. let alone titles that arent meant to see the light of day)

these aint so much wips as they are. abandoned sketches lol. oh i guess it could also refer to art wips but this aint my art computer. if u wanna see an art wip go check my twt idk. this post sucks

[musical-chick-13]

Welcome to the periodic Emotion Stage I experience called, "Being hit with an absolutely VIOLENT amount of Feelings™ about Twelve."

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Honestly if Rhys Darby weren't so beautiful and if Taika wasn't working that wig so hard and if New Zealand accents weren't so irresistible...

[thetrinitytest]

apologies for derailing your post but every time i hear someone use the phrase “dry wine” something snaps in me and i just.

SHUT UP. SHUT UPSHUT THE FUCK UP

>wine enjoyers be like 'this one is so very dry'

>taste it

>it's wet

[voluptuarian]

My 30-something wisdom is that your palate is constantly changing so don't assume because you hated a food 10 or 20 years ago you still will. Most radically, your taste as a little kid is not indicative of what it will be as an adult-- I've known too many adults who still refuse to eat anything but chicken strips and ketchup because they're still basing their taste on what they experienced at 8 years old and so have cut themselves off from the entire world of adult taste. In my case, my taste for savory foods, especially vegetable dishes, "bitter" foods, and more complex flavor combinations has really expanded. I didn't like mushrooms as a child or for most of my 20s, but around 28 suddenly they worked for me. I started enjoying dark chocolate around 25, especially paired with fruit flavors. I've never been hugely fond of eggplant but discovered that in a sauce or roasted in butter and oil its delicious. I've always enjoyed fish but in the last 15 years I've discovered a passion for it, salmon especially. I've learned to recognize the tastes of herbs and love putting them into everything I can (currently I'm most enthusiastic about dill.) I'm also suddenly crazy about all kinds of sandwiches. And I'm still trying olives every couple years in case suddenly they start working for me, though sadly no luck on that front yet. So basically, expect that your taste is going to change in adulthood and expect that it will keep changing. And you can also work to develop your palate by exposing yourself to new flavors and combinations and cuisines, opening you up to even more foods you might never have liked before. So keep trying new and old foods, because you never know when you might suddenly start liking something new or discover a new way it can be prepared or a new texture it can come in. Don't wind up imprisoned in a world of chicken strips just because you haven't tried anything else since 3rd grade, you deserve better.

[kittenintheden]

When I Think About You

surprise jorkin it PWP fic drop lol. enjoy.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion/Reader (You) Word Count: 1550 Content: 18+, jealousy, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation (sort of?), pillow humping, gender-neutral Tav/Reader

AO3 Link

You went to bed early tonight.

Well, earlier than you typically do. Not that Astarion has been paying you much attention. Hardly any, really. You’re just easy to miss.

Notice. You’re easy to notice. Because you’re so obvious.

Obviously annoying, obviously infuriating, obviously determined, and obviously infatuated with him. True, that had been his goal, but hells, you could blush a little less at his come-ons. Even if it does look cute on you.

Not that he thinks you’re cute. Not really.

The others are packing up their gear and turning in for the night. Astarion will take first watch like he typically does, have a quick trance, and get up in the early morning hours for a hunt. Easy. Routine.

So what if he’s falling into a routine with these people. It makes things simpler.

He should check on you. Just to make sure you’re not ill. For his health more than yours. These days, a headache could mean a rapid onset of calamari face. He’s doing everyone a favor, honestly.

When he approaches your tent, his steps slow to a stop as his ears pick up noise from inside your tent. You aren’t asleep.

And by the sound of it – and it’s a sound Astarion knows well – you aren’t alone.

He huffs an irritated breath through his nose. Gods damn it. He really thought he had you in the bag. There’s a shard of something sharp lodged beneath his rib. Annoyance, probably. Disappointment that he’s back to square one. Bitterness that he lost another competition, even when he’s doing what he does best.

Astarion turns to walk away. Takes three steps. Stops. Turns his head back toward the sound.

Who is it?

Who are you with?

He has his suspicions, but might as well take a quick peek to verify. His steps as he approaches are catlike. Not that you’d notice anyway, preoccupied as you are. He won’t look much. Only enough to see who stole his prize.

His mark. Who stole his mark.

Astarion pauses at the far side of your closed tent flap and finds a gap in the cloth. He leans in, eyes keen in the dark, and his mouth goes dry when he sees your hips grinding against someone, the length of your body pressed tight to theirs while you move over them. A blanket covers you both, but it doesn’t hide the passion of your movement.

He jerks his head away, a ball of tension aching in his gut. Ridiculous. He should go kill something. He walks toward the woods.

And stops with a sigh.

Astarion hates himself for it, this burning curiosity to know exactly who you’re riding so enthusiastically. Steeling himself, he creeps back and peeks once more through the split in the fabric.

You’re sitting up, now, showing him the long line of your spine in the center of your bare back as your hips continue to work. Every puff of breath through your lips is desperate, occasionally lilting up in a breathless moan.

Astarion worries his lip between his teeth. The muscles beneath your skin ripple, your blood thrumming so close and smelling so much of you, sweetened with the scent of arousal. If you’d just lean a little one way or the other, he could see who’s working you so… so…

There’s a flash of heat in his core followed by a sparking current of electricity, setting everything alight. He’d been doing his best to ignore the steady swell of his cock, but ignoring it is no longer an option as he goes hard as stone, the length of him straining toward his hip bone. Subconsciously, he cants his hips into the empty air and finds absolutely no relief. He has to swallow back a soft moan of his own.

The rolling globes of your arse are shaped perfectly beneath your thin wool blanket. Sharp, rocking thrusts against your playmate, against whichever lucky wretch currently feels the sticky heat of you while he watches.

Astarion lets his hand drift to the front of his breeches and sucks his breath in through his teeth when his palm grazes firmly over the covered head of his cock.

 You run a hand up your side and feel your own chest, maintaining your rhythm as you whimper.

Astarion’s fingers move to loosen his laces, lips parted as he begins to softly pant.

Your hand moves back down and you’re… yes, you’re putting your fingers between your legs, and you throw your head back with a gasp.

His fingers dip below his waistband and he curls in on himself with a huff as he takes himself in hand and begins to pump. Once, twice… ah, gods, that’s nice.

Though being under you would be even nicer.

Lucky sod. Who is it?

The blanket slips down over the curve of your arse, falling to one side and his breath catches as he realizes he’s about to get his answer.

Fabric falls aside and your incredible arse is grinding back and forth. You’re riding yourself to absolute delirium with…

A spare bedroll.

Astarion’s hand stutters to a stop and he doesn’t even breathe as realization hits him. You weren’t with someone else at all. The whole time, you’ve been furiously fucking yourself, grinding needily against your bedding for relief.

And somehow, some way, that makes him even harder. He mouths “oh, fuck” and goes back to stroking himself with renewed vigor. 

You’re desperately aroused, no longer trying to quiet your whimpers as you work your hips in circles against the bedroll while you rub yourself at the same time, your shoulders flushed with need. Your body undulates in wave after wave and Astarion feels quite certain that if he were inside you right now, he’d have come already. He puts his free hand over his mouth, pressing his palm to his lips to keep quiet.

You make a frustrated noise and swing your leg off the bedroll, and for a brief alarming moment, Astarion thinks you’re about to give up, and there’s no way he could let that stand. For either of you.

But then you shove the bedroll away with a huff and flop onto your back without opening your eyes, which is good news for Astarion, since you’d almost certainly see the silhouette of him outside your tent if you were paying attention. Instead, you spread your legs wide and give him a glorious view as one hand returns to its place between your legs and is quickly joined by the other.

Astarion shudders out a breath, the sound thankfully masked by your own rapid pants as you stroke yourself with one hand and trace around your entrance with the other. When you push two fingers inside and begin to pump in and out, Astarion’s knees threaten to give out as he picks up his pace. The tide of pleasure in his core rises and threatens to crest.

Gods, gods, he isn’t even fucking you and you’re still going to make him come before you do.

Your pretty little moans are too much. Your furrowed brow, your flushed cheeks, the way your thighs twitch and your belly shivers with the pleasure you’re lavishing on yourself. What a beauty you are, what a treat, what a-

“-arion,” you whisper, so quietly that he nearly misses it.

“Hah,” he breathes, his pleasure shuddering right on the edge of its peak. His mind must’ve filled that in. There’s no way you said what he thought you said.

He presses his face to the split in the fabric and leans against the tentpole, jerking himself firmly as he watches you arch your back up off the ground, lifting your hips into the air again, again, again, until your hands slow.

“Oh, Astarion,” you whisper just before you slam back down to earth and groan out your release, your slick making your skin shine in the low light.

“Sh-”

Astarion slams his hand over his mouth and ducks to the side, sinking silently to the ground around the corner of your tent just before he creams himself, a pulse of spend striping the ground beneath him, followed by another, and another. His head hangs heavily before him as he catches his breath and dazedly tries to piece together what the fuck just happened.

He sits back, chest heaving and ears ringing.

Then whips his head to the side when he hears you stir inside the tent and tentatively say, “... Hello? Is someone there?”

Astarion holds his breath, which does not help with his current state of floaty lightheadedness.

Then you say, “... Astarion?”

And the sound of his name on your lips sends another ripple of pleasure through him as his cock pulses and drips one last time for good measure.

It takes a minute, but you eventually convince yourself you were hearing things and settle down to sleep, presumably in a more relaxed state than when you first retired. Astarion waits until your breathing slows before he sneaks away, silently tucking himself back into his clothes.

He holds his breath the entire time.

On the other side of camp inside the safety of his own tent, he releases it in a rush, running his unused hand through his curls as realization finally catches up to him.

“Oh, no,” he whispers.

[yzzart]

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: F!reader, 18+, NSFW, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, lovesick & possessive!kenji, reader wearing Ken's shirt, petnames, explicit words, explicit content.

୭˚. ᵎᵎ word count: 990!

Kenji loved it when you wore his t-shirts.

During his matches, among the euphoric, enthusiastic and hopeful stands, joining the wave of the crowd, which had an unusual spirit, he saw you wearing one of the countless t-shirts, which contained his name and number, — shouting for the team and for him — encouraged, even more, Kenji.

And every time you hit successfully and triumphantly, you turned around, pointed to the name written on your back, and shouted "that's my player!" — Oh, Kenji could fall even more in love with you, and he didn't know it was possible.

So, like, he appreciated all the photos the media posted, commented on, mentioned of you together, post-game, and the highlight, in Ken's eyes, was, again, the shirt you were wearing. — Sometimes, it was a shirt, correctly, in your size or one of thousands of his, it didn't matter.

But, nothing, faithfully, could be compared to the immoderate, cunning, contemplation that Kenji experienced when he saw you wearing one of his t-shirts, always when he felt like it, wanting to feel as comfortable as possible. — This was already considered routine. — Out of pure irony and contradiction, when they sounded like unreality, they seemed like they were made for you, he thought.

The huge, made of rich and enhanced tissues, mentioning the values ​​it cost, and formidably showy Kenji T-shirts similar species of dresses on your body; making it fully, fascinating and so captivating. — And, noting comfort, you used only underwear under the dress; it was not even appeared, obviously.

And that, maddeningly, drove Kenji's mind crazy. — Disturbing him, without being able, nor having the opportunity, to concentrate on certain, and reasonable, things in front of his head; without caring about the impolite and indecent looks, after all, he had something better to consider, Sato fixed his eyes on your thighs. — He had his weak point.

And always in the morning, a little disoriented, missing you and, exaggeratedly, tired, with his physical and mental state set back because of the necessary appearance of Ultraman against yet another Kaiju, — upon returning home, he collapsed into your arms and caresses — Kenji found you in the kitchen; preparing something, humming and, softly, serene. — Of course, wearing one of his shirts. — Approaching, with heavy and slow steps, his muscular and vigorous arms snaked around your waist, holding you firmly.

It didn't take you by surprise, clearly, used to his warm welcome; it was clear that the warmth of his affection and comfort was valued. — Also, given the way Kenji needed your touch or, at least, your presence.

Saying "good morning, dear" and waiting to question him about how he slept; in response, the eldest caressed your neck with his nose, inhaling your pleasant and delicious smell, mixed with the fragrance of his perfume, that was stuck to his shirt, and let out a bitter sigh; perhaps, a little libidinous. — No, actually, it was definitely lewd.

Leaving you without an answer, and with a hint of concern, and intending to turn towards him, in an instant, hurriedly, Sato pulled your waist, and reading your thought, turned you around, facing the boy's exposed chest, and he threw you onto his shoulder with ease. — He didn't hear, he ignored, your cry of surprise, and headed towards the bedroom.

And, evidently, today, at this exact moment, it couldn't be any different.

"Holy shit." — Kenji swore, in a mixture of drowsiness and excitement, intoxicated by your scent, something that is deadly addictive. His breathing was rough, dull, so sudden. — "Ah, but you're so cute, aren't you?" — A question asked in a filthy way, with a slutty and breathless laugh, he couldn't help himself. — “My dirty girl, huh?”

Spread out on the bed, between pure silk and white sheets, surrendering yourself, giving in fragility and voluptuousness, deliciously, to your boyfriend; being completely filled by him and feeling insane waves of excitement. — The intense, and so delicious, inversions that you received left you crazy and, satisfactorily, even more, immoral. — And, making it even more interesting, at the same time, without surprises, Kenji's white shirt was on your body.

Buried in your pussy, compromising, bitingly, between the heat and tightness of your walls, which sucked his cock, and causing obscene noises and noises, wet by the room's environment, Kenji left himself thinking that you would be the death of him. — He choked, growled, when he felt another tightness coming from your little hole. — It was so erotic, so carnal, so fucking good.

"K-Ken..ji." — You stammered, you didn't even know how to pronounce his name correctly, and you were so breathless, desperate as you felt him insert his dick into you; cried out to him, pathetically.

"I love it when you wear my clothes." — He traced a line down your neck with his tongue, laughing with lust and sensuality, losing herself in pleasure once again. — "And i love fucking you while wearing them." — He articulated, listening to the wet noises of his heavy balls against your ass, and looking at your face, with a fucked and desired expression, with some tears on your cheek.

Your moans, pleas ran through Kenji's ear, and settled in his mind, equally, with screams, so thin that they seemed like meows, every time his robust cock reached that little spot that only he could and loved to reach; causing your nails to dig into his burly back, scratching him. — His beautiful little girl was still conscious of marking him, Sato laughed at the thought.

Every now and then, Kenji would move away from your neck, and, surprisingly, you would sob when you felt his brief absence, and his eyes, heavy with lust and appetite, would look at the connection between you and, pulling your hips and pushing, again, he had the sinful, and deadly, privilege of seeing your pussy swallowing his cock with pleasure. — Oh, even his eyes closed, sharply and rudely.

Kenji loved it when you wore his t-shirts.

[orchidsarchives]

i am frothing at the mouth at firefighter!Jason🤤

I’ m imagining Jason accidentally bumping into reader who so happens to be a school teacher and he can’t help but flirt just a little bit whilst the class of kids he’s educating on fire safety look at them both with wide eyes😃

I absolutely love this idea so much! I wrote something based off of this ask and low key went a little overboard with world building, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Field trip mornings always created an exciting buzz amongst your students. Their gentle chatter filled the chilly parking lot of the old school and you giggled at their enthusiasm.

The moment brought a sense of nostalgia, it engulfed your heart in a warm embrace. It reminded you of your days in elementary school. The memories of bitter autumn mornings and your teacher’s frustrated attitudes played before your eyes. You smiled thinking about your past and how those small experiences inspired you to pursue a teaching career.

This field trip was a special one as it happened to fall on Halloween Day. The children complained about having to come to school on the holiday, but as soon as you mentioned that they could come costumed, the excitement was back. Your third grade class did not disappoint, they were all dressed in bright costumes for their first ever visit to the fire station.

The bus ride was fairly normal. The children were a mix of both calm and rowdy. You intervened every once in a while when their noise level got too loud, otherwise the students were well behaved.

Entering the fire station was like entering a dream. The foyer of the building was warm and inviting. The heat radiated off of the walls and it made you slip off your coat. There were Halloween decorations coating the pale walls and you watched your children ooh and ahh with excitement.

Your eyes were still scanning the room when a tall man walked over towards you. He wore his uniform around his waist with a black compression shirt that hugged his body. You could see a sleeve of tattoos on display and a thin silver chain peaking through from under his shirt. Despite not wearing your coat anymore, you still felt your body heat up.

You stared at his name tag—Jason, it read. You recalled the name from the numerous emails and phone calls you had exchanged in order to make this tour happen. You always thought his voice was sweet, but you had never imagined him looking like this.

He was attractive—breathtakingly so. His eyes radiated a bright shade of emerald and were full of life. He had heavy bags under his eyes, which, you assumed, were from working long hours at the station. His facial features were sharp. His cheekbones stood high and his hooked nose sat perfectly poised on his face. He looked like a Roman sculpture. Your eyes trailed down to his lips and you noticed a small scar on the right side of his mouth. You felt your fingers twitch, almost as if they were itching to trace the mark.

Jason cleared his throat, pulling you out of your deep trance and you felt goosebumps trailing your skin. You quickly spoke up, trying to ease the tension.

“Hello, my apologies, I completely zoned out, it’s been a long morning,” you said, desperately hoping that he believed the poor excuse you made to justify openly checking out the man.

You suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, you looked to your side only to notice all of your students staring right at you. You felt yourself getting flustered again, but quickly moved past the feeling. You extended your hand to shake Jason’s calloused ones. His eyes raked your figure and he gave you a sly smile.

“It’s okay,” he responded gently. “Shall we get started with the visit,” he changed the subject quickly and you couldn’t be happier.

Jason turned his attention towards the children and greeted them with an enthusiastic expression, his passion for his job clearly reflected in his way of speaking.

He led your tiny class towards the breakout rooms of the fire station. On the way to the rooms, Jason pointed out one of the girl’s Wonder Woman costumes and he shrieked in an endearing sort of way. He kneeled to the girl’s height and handed her a small sticker. She smiled, thanking him. Jason then locked his eyes with yours and called the girl pretty, and you knew at that moment that the comment was not only for her, but for you too. You felt a rush of heat run through your cheeks and up to your ears.

The breakout rooms were similar to the foyer of the fire station. There were little skeletons propped up against the whiteboards and small jack-o-lanterns on each desk.

Once the children had settled, Jason handed the rest of them with fun stickers and pamphlets about fire safety for them to take home. He joked with the kids, and managed to sneak in a fire pun every now and then. He was a good listener, he paid attention to everything the children had to share. You turned your head to the side and silently admired his ability to work with the kids; not everyone could handle a group of eight-year-olds first thing in the morning.

Jason quickly gave the class a presentation about the dangers of fires and the importance of protecting yourselves when dealing with hot objects. It was odd, he wasn’t even trying to hide his flirtatious comments, he’d stare right at you upon the very mention of the word “hot.”

You noticed Jason had a habit of walking around the room, maybe it was to keep the students engaged or maybe he did it for his own reasons. But it had got to the point where he’d brush past you, almost purposefully. The parts of your skin that made contact with his body were on fire.

After the presentation, Jason decided it would be best if the kids got a quick break before continuing the tour of the fire station. You happily agreed, needing a break yourself.

You sat on a chair close to the exit, when one of your students came to you on the verge of tears—the culprit being a paper cut. You cooed at the child, gently cupping their much smaller hand and guiding them to your first aid kit. Unknown to you, Jason was watching the interaction play out.

He hadn’t known you long, but he thought you were stunning. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your features sat against your skin, and the way you spoke with such eloquence. It was everything he found attractive, but seeing you showcase such patience with the “wounded” child, made his heart race. Not only were you beautiful, but you were kind—to Jason, in the very little time he had known you, you felt like an angel.

“Do you like them,” a small voice suddenly spoke. It was the Wonder Woman from earlier and Jason smiled.

“Ah the lovely Wonder Woman is back,” he replied, ignoring the child’s question. The little girl giggled.

“I think you have a crush on my teacher,” Jason raised his eyebrow. What did this little girl know about crushes? The child laughed again and said, “I think she might like you back.”

“What makes you say that,” Jason inquired, now suddenly interested. The little girl shrugged and made a face.

“I dunno,” and with that, she ran off, leaving Jason confused.

After the break, Jason guided the students to the main hall to show them the fire trucks. The energy was high in the room, the kids were beaming with excitement. The tension between you and Jason only seemed to rise though. With every passing flirtatious comment and every lingering look, you felt yourself getting more anxious. How inappropriate would it be if you asked for his number at the end of the field trip… you caught yourself thinking.

It was as if Jason had read your mind because at the end of the tour, he pulled you aside to thank you for bringing in the children and letting him have the opportunity to teach them. You grinned and also expressed your gratitude. You began to walk towards the students, when Jason grabbed your wrist and held onto you gently. He slipped a piece of paper into your palm and sent you a quick wink before heading out.

You stared at the small paper and slowly opened it.

Inside, the words read in messy lines, “call me,” with a string of numbers. You looked into the direction that Jason left, and smiled to yourself.

You were definitely going to call him.