#chime in with more in the replies

[dideki]

im also increasingly sure that im autistic but we'll never ever confirm that </3

[more-than-a-princess]

"Why bother having sex with robots when vampires, demons, and werewolves exist?"

A brief comment before she returns to her latest salacious, spicy fantasy novel.

Ignore the fact that she listed her preferred supernatural creatures in order of desirability

[notanotherinfjblog]

Texting habits per judging function

No one asked, but here are some observations I've made in my personal life.

*Note that this probably differs by age, gender, and culture (for instance, I have been told by several Americans that I use an insane amount of emojis, whereas it's not considered weird at all here in Germany).

FJ:

Generally very good at texting, will respond to absolutely every point you make. If you send them a long voice message, they can be found taking notes while listening so that they will not forget to answer any point you made.

Have a very hard time leaving someone on read and if they do, either something happened and they forgot, or they simply don't like you very much. If they open the message, they answer. If they don't have time to answer you right now, they simply will not open the message yet.

If the text conversation is done (i.e. you wrote something like "bye, see you tomorrow!" that does not require another response), they will still at the very least send you an emoji back for no reason other than letting you know that "Yes! I read your message! I'm not ignoring you! I love you!" (Literally every FJ I have ever known does this. Every single one, including myself.)

They will adapt to your style of texting. If you are the kind of person that likes to send a bunch of heart emojis to friends and the FJ friend is not, they will still pepper in a heart here and there. If you generally don't use emojis, they will use them only occasionally. If you reply in wallpaper long messages, so will they. If you break up your messages into several texts one after the other, so will they.

FPs:

Also generally quite good at texting and can actually appear a lot warmer in writing than in person (there have been several instances where I received really lovely messages from FPs who I used to think hated my guts whenever we met in person).

Prepare for emojis. Seriously.

You can have infinitely long text conversations with them. If you are willing to commit, the conversation between the two of you will never end. With NFPs, the conversations usually end up spiralling into nonsense scenarios, while SFPs keep telling you about their day and keep answering you about your day every day.

TPs:

(my texting experience with TPs is unfortunately very limited, so feel free to fill in my blanks)

Fe is very noticeable in the extroverts, i.e. they tend to go the FJ route described above, but in a more nonchalant and more relaxed way. Like with FJs, the focus of the conversation is on you and their dynamic with you.

The introverts (i.e. my dad, i.e. my only point of reference) are bad at texting and prefer to call, so almost all text conversations go something like this: TP: "Hi, I tried to call you, but you didn't pick up. I hope everything is alright with you?" You: "Yes, sorry. Everything's good here, how about you, everything okay?" --- end of conversation ---

TJs:

Generally bad at texting. Also don't really like it and see no point in it, so they usually prefer calling or talking in person.

Will appear colder in writing than in person, especially the STJs. Their answers will be straight to the point. No beating around the bush and no needless extension of a conversation in form of jokes/questions/anecdotes for a bonding experience. If they want to tell you something, they will tell you in person.

Have absolutely zero problem leaving people on read and usually don't mean anything by it.

STJs rarely use emojis, NTJs do but not excessively

If their answer requires them to type anything more than two sentences, they will send you a voice message instead. (Literally every single TJ I know does this, except my INTJ brother who is a complete maniac and calls instead.)

[vickyvicarious]

Oh If I remember correctly the captain of the Catherine ship later who ignorantly calls his crew superstitious fools is Scottish

I think you're right, but he too is superstitious himself, at least somewhat:

"At first I inclined to slack off sail and beat about till the fog was lifted; but whiles, I thocht that if the Deil was minded to get us into the Black Sea quick, he was like to do it whether we would or no. If we had a quick voyage it would be no to our miscredit wi' the owners, or no hurt to our traffic; an' the Old Mon who had served his ain purpose wad be decently grateful to us for no hinderin' him." This mixture of simplicity and cunning, of superstition and commercial reasoning, aroused Van Helsing, who said:—

He's willing to consider the possibility that the Devil is trying to influence the journey. Later on he gets a bit more open about it, too. And yet his reaction is practical and money-minded regardless: let it speed me along then, I'll just try to make sure my ship is safe and I get paid. Meanwhile, this is what he says of his crew:

"When we got past the Bosphorus the men began to grumble; some o' them, the Roumanians, came and asked me to heave overboard a big box which had been put on board by a queer lookin' old man just before we had started frae London. I had seen them speer at the fellow, and put out their twa fingers when they saw him, to guard against the evil eye. Man! but the supersteetion of foreigners is pairfectly rideeculous!"

This Captain is used as a sort of butt of the joke here, as well as following this pattern of the more 'civilized' people not being willing to listen to foreigners/their social inferiors. He decries their superstition despite impressing van Helsing with his own just before, seemingly oblivious to any contradiction there. Maybe to a certain extent superstition is acceptable, but only so long as it follows his own beliefs and doesn't get in the way of business, apparently.

That could be an interesting commentary on capitalistic matters as well, but he definitely seems to tie in to those same ideas we see with Jonathan and with the Captain of the Demeter. Unlike either of them, though, he isn't willing to listen to the warnings he's given - not even just to appease them. Instead, he follows the impulse expressed by the Demeter's mate and physically beats them with a handspike to 'convince' them. Even though he admits to being uneasy himself, he's not willing to compromise his cargo. That, in itself, isn't so different from Jonathan still going to the castle, or the Captain of the Demeter trying his hardest to get back to Whitby as planned - the difference here is that the concession to Weirdness isn't listening even a little to the lower-class foreigners but in making his own decision that actively mocks/harms them. (Admittedly, it sounds like things came closer to mutiny on his ship, since they actually had the box on the deck to more easily toss overboard. Still, it doesn't sound like he made any effort to soothe their worries in a kinder way before things got to that point.)

A part of me wonders if some of this positioning is due to his nationality. Scottish, at least according to British stereotypes, isn't as civilized as English... but would probably still be more so than the Romanian crewmembers. As such, his reaction is more openly superstitious than the English characters, but less so than the foreigners. But then, of course, that brings us to how he is framed as foolish, not really given the same grace that Jonathan gets to learn better. The Captain of the Demeter learns his error as well, but he doesn't get to make it out alive... and he also in the end chooses his duty to complete his journey over worrying about the danger he may be delivering, just like the Captain of the Czarina Catherine. Obviously, their role as minor characters/plot devices plays a part in that, but it's still interesting to look at in this lens. (And at the same time... this Captain and his crew all don't suffer negative consequences themselves from his choice. In that way, he gets off a lot easier.)

Not to mention, Stoker being Irish adds another interesting dimension since I presume it would be viewed as closer to Scottish in terms of how 'civilized' a nationality it is viewed as in the British Empire. I am decidedly no expert but that's my impression: more respected than Eastern European foreigners (at least the lower-class ones) but not as respected as the English. So perhaps there's a deliberate element of mockery here, and yet at the same time the fact that both English characters (I'm fairly certain the Captain of the Demeter is English? at least I've been assuming so this whole time) are more understanding than the presumably Scottish one undercuts that somewhat, doesn't it.

[catalinaflores]

just curious about ur blog name. why did you pick this one specifically? i realise this sounds offensive but i dont know much about the character beyond her role in the gang wars and nightwing vol 2

ill attach a screenshot bc ik the page i have it on is basically unfindable on mobile but. i do have a genuine answer written up for ppl genuinely asking! i have found that most people who ask this do not care about the answer which is the main reason behind any general aura of hostility you may be picking up on if you have seen my previous asks abt this

[scrawnytreedemon]

How to write Main Character: Make them feel unique,make them feel different but also familiar. Like you can see them everywhere at the same time nowhere

Or we can go the easy road and make one with God complex

I feel like ppl don't really make good main characters anymore. They feel the same these days

Ehhh???

Honestly, people do make good main characters, you just have to look. Usually easier to find in non-YA novels, in my experience. They tend to feel more like fleshed-out *people* with their own life-experience than vessels for the reader to insert themselves into,

Which, ironically enough, makes it easier for me to relate to them, even if we are otherwise very different people. If you make your character a person, then inevitably, some of those experiences line up.

If anything, trying to walk that tightrope of having your character just "unique" enough to be interesting while still "relatable" enough as to appeal to as many people as possible is where things can get muddy and you end up failing either way.

I think it tends to affect some genres more than others, but at the end of the day... It really isn't as bad of an issue as people make it out to be. Like, yeah. Mediocre literature exists. Things tend to be mid more than they are especially good or bad.

And I think that's fine.

Plus, tastes vary. There's no doubt alot of stuff I love that people will look at and say is subpar. There is no objective way of looking at fiction-- We all come in with our own biases.

I'm going offtopic. Hope the first half of this reply made sense. Apologies if I've completely misunderstood your point.

I dunno, I just hear these complaints, and it makes me think of alot of those shitty writing guides that I used to eat up (often made by amateur writers themselves), which were very insistent on finding the "right" way to write and ruthlessly mocking anything "bad."

I don't think that's what you were going for, at all, but I still think it's very generalising, and I'm not sure what to make of it?

[wawhii]

I know I keep saying this but shoutout to fat positive furries for real. And not just "chubby" positive furries I mean like FAT positive furries

[statementlou]

Hello! Hope you’re well 🥰

I was hoping to ask about a lyric that always hits me hard but I have no one to talk to about. Do you feel there is a heaviness or significance to the line, “do you ever ask why it’s not black and white, how you sleep at night when you’re just like me?” from Bigger Than Me?

Obviously that whole song is about not letting negative voices get to you, so I am trying to process how that lyric fits in. Do you have any thoughts?

Thank you!

hi! hm well with any Louis lyric question I feel like it's really important to take into account that all of his songs are/ can be about more than one thing, it's basically his lyrical hallmark and specialty. To write a single song that can be read as completely about either his relationship with the fans or about a love affair if you just turn it and look at the same words from a different angle, for example, or just to use the 1D staple trick of writing about anything and everything but then dressing it up as a love song. BTM doesn't have the love song overlay! But that doesn't mean parts of it might not have multiple interpretations... like it hits me really hard about things in my own life that I think are probably pretty different than the things in Louis' life he was thinking about when he wrote it. That said for me personally when I think about Louis writing that song and what it might mean to him and the fact that I do believe it's primarily about his career... much as I feel like we just don't and can't know, once it got lodged in my head it became impossible for me to hear the "how you sleep at night when you're just like me" as anything other than being about the many queer people involved in pressuring Louis into the closet... but honestly even within that general interpretation there are so many ways people try to tell other people to be how they feel like THEY ought to be but aren't. I don't have a direct take on the black and white line, like to me it makes sense in that context on like Vibes but I can't really say exactly how. And I know some people disagree and relate to lyrics differently but for me stuff that just hits somehow even without being able to make it literal is the most powerful and successful actually, that's how poetry is supposed to work, not just to impart information, you know? And from what you say, it sounds like the song is really successful for you on that level even without a perfect understanding of the exact meaning, like it hits emotionally anyway, so maybe that's enough?

[dollfacefantasy]

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia

wc: 12.9k

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

part 2

Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.

He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.

Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.

'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.

But then another quickly followed.

'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'

At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.

He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.

Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.

Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay.  Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.

'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.

The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'

'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.

'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'

He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.

'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'

So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.

He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.

One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.

He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.

The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched.  He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.

He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.

Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.

The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.

"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.”

"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.

"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."

"But it's not the same," you pouted.

Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.

Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.

"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.

Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.

"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.

He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.

You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.

Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.

"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.

"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."

You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.

"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."

He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.

Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.

After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.

"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.

"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in. 

He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.

"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."

"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.

"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."

"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.

Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."

"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.

Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking. 

"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.

"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."

"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."

"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.

Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.

In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.

Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.

As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.

For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.

You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.

It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.

And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.

He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.

You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.

"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"

You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."

Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.

You asked them how they got into “bodyguarding,” making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.

"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."

"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.

Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded. 

"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.

"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."

Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.

"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.

His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.

"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."

"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.

Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.

"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."

"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.

Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.

As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.

After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.

"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.

"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.

"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."

"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"

"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.

Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."

"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."

The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."

So that was his problem.

Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.

"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.

Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.

It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.

Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.

Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."

"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."

"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."

"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"

"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"

"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."

Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.

"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."

"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."

"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.

"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.

Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.

The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker. 

And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.

He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest). 

"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.

"Yup!" you chirped.

You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.

"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"

"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.

"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.

Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.

"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.

"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."

"Ah, yet," he grinned.

"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.

He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.

"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.

You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.

Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.

The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.

He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"

His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.

"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.

"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"

He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.

"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.

He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.

"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.

A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.

"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.

His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.

Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.

Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.

"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.

He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog. 

It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.

The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.

You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.

When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.

Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment. 

Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.

That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.

You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.

Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.

As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.

It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.

"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.

"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.

The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.

His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.

"For you maybe."

"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."

You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.

"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.

"Cause I want it," you answered.

With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.

"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."

"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.

That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.

"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"

"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"

God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.

"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.

That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too. 

He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.

He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.

Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.

So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.

Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.

A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.

You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?

His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.

"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.

Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."

Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.

"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."

"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.

You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie. 

It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.

But then he spoke again.

"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.

The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.

"What else would we be doing?" you asked.

"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.

The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.

Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.

"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.

And that was the last thing he needed to hear.

He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.

Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.

He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.

You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.

"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered. 

He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.

And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.

He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.

Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.

He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.

Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.

"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."

You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.

After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.

"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.

His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.

"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.

Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.

You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.

In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.

"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.

You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.

"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.

He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.

"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.

When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.

He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.

Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.

He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.

Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.

He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.

The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.

Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.

Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.

Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.

He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.

"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.

He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.

"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.

As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.

His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.

Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.

Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.

"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.

He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.

"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.

That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."

Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

"That's different..." he defended weakly.

In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.

But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.

"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"

Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.

You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.

"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.

A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.

"F-feels good..."

Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.

His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.

He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.

Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."

"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.

In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.

"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips. 

You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.

"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.

Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.

"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."

Jason’s usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."

He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.

Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.

"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."

Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.

He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you. 

"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."

Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.

"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.

"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.

Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?

He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.

You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.

"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.

The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.

He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.

"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.

Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.

He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"

Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.

You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.

Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.

You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.

But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.

More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.

"So sensitive," he teased.

You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.

He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.

"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"

Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.

"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.

That just spiked Jason’s blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.

Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.

"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.

It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."

"You're the one who interrupted."

"You're the one who practically invited me to."

"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."

Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.

You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward. 

"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"

"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.

His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.

"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.

"Come here," he said.

Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.

"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.

You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.

"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.

The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.

"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.

He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.

"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.

Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.

"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."

It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.

Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.

Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though. 

The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.

"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."

"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.

You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.

The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.

Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.

Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.

"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."

In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.

He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.

"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.

He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.

You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.

"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. I’ll make her feel all better."

The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.

You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.

He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.

But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.

Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.

When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself. 

You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.

He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.

You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.

Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.

He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.

"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."

Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.

"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."

"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.

"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."

"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.

"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.

They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didn’t look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.

"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.

Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."

You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.

[dior-luxury]

How'd They React To You Skipping School

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . comedy/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] cater . leona. floyd . vil . rook . silver . sebek . malleus

- [𝐩:𝐬] none

Note: I had like no idea of what to post, so I just decided to post one of my drafts!

Cater Diamond

Cater is used to you doing your own thing, but when he realizes you're skipping school without telling him, it throws him off. He first notices your absence in class when he glances over at your usual seat and finds it empty.

"Huh? No way. Did she sleep in?" he mumbles, tilting his head.

He checks his Magicam feed just in case, and sure enough—there you are, chilling at a café, sipping on a fancy drink with a little dessert on the side.

"Omg. She’s out living her best life while I’m suffering in Trein’s lecture?? Rude."

At first, he considers letting it slide. After all, it’s not like he never ditches, but the more he thinks about it, the more a nagging feeling settles in his chest.

So, the second class ends, he shoots you a text.

Cay-kun 🧡: Baaaaabe, why am I seeing u on my Magicam instead of in class? U cheating on me with a strawberry shortcake? 😭🍰

You don’t reply right away. He sighs, leaning against a hallway wall. Then, an idea strikes him. If you’re going to skip school, why not have a real ditch day adventure?

Thirty minutes later, you’re peacefully enjoying your alone time when a very familiar voice chimes in from across the café.

"Omg, no way. What are the chances? I just happened to be in the area~", Cater says, sliding into the seat across from you with an easy grin.

You roll your eyes. "Cater, you totally left school to find me."

He laughs, taking a sip of your drink without asking. "Busted. But c’mon, how could I let my precious girlfriend have all the fun by herself? We could’ve planned a whole cute ditch day together!"

Though he’s joking, there’s a flicker of something else in his expression—concern, maybe? You don’t miss the way his fingers drum lightly against the table, the way his usual easygoing smile seems just a bit forced.

"Next time, at least tell me, okay? I wanna make sure you’re safe. Plus, if you’re gonna skip, might as well do it with style. Matching outfits, cute couple photos—the whole deal."

Even though he’s being playful, you know he’s serious. And honestly? You wouldn’t mind skipping with him next time.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is no stranger to skipping school—hell, it’s practically his hobby. So when he hears from Ruggie that you didn’t show up to class, his first reaction is to scoff.

"Tch. So what? Not like it’s my problem."

But as the day drags on, something bugs him. He expected you to at least text him if you were gonna skip.

By the time lunch rolls around, his patience is gone.

Instead of going to class, he heads straight to his usual napping spot in the botanical gardens—where, conveniently, he finds you lounging on a bench, headphones in, eyes closed as you soak in the afternoon sun.

For a moment, he just watches. Then, with a sigh, he plops down beside you, one arm draped over the back of the bench as he tilts his head toward you.

"You got some nerve skippin’ without tellin’ me."

Your eyes snap open. "Leona? How’d you—"

"I am the king, y’know. I got eyes everywhere."

He leans in, his voice dropping to that low, lazy drawl that always sends a shiver down your spine. "So? You got a reason for dodging class, or you just felt like slacking?"

You mumble something about needing a break. Leona raises an eyebrow, letting out a deep sigh.

"Hmph. Well, can’t say I blame you. But if you’re gonna play hooky, at least do it right."

Before you can react, he shifts, lying down with his head in your lap, eyes already closing.

"Since you’re already here, you might as well stay. I ain’t letting you run off alone again—next time, you skip, you tell me first. Got it?"

His words are firm, but the way his hand lazily rests on your knee, fingers tracing absentminded patterns, tells you everything you need to know.

You weren’t just skipping school—you were skipping him. And Leona Kingscholar doesn’t like being left out.

Floyd Leech

When Floyd finds out you skipped school, the reaction is instant and dramatic.

It starts when he bursts into your dorm room, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Shrimpyyyyy~ Why weren’t you in class today?"

Before you can even answer, he flops down onto your bed, stretching like a lazy cat.

"I was soooo boooored. Sitting in class with no Shrimpy to tease? Ugh, it was awful!"

You roll your eyes. "Floyd, it’s just one day. I needed a break."

The air shifts.

Floyd props himself up on one elbow, his usual playful smile still in place, but there’s something more intense behind his eyes now.

"Hmm. A break from school? Or a break from me?"

You blink. "Wait, what? No, that’s not—"

Before you can finish, he’s suddenly on top of you, his long fingers gently but firmly pressing against your wrists. His grin widens, but his grip tightens just slightly.

"Y’know, if you wanted to play hooky, you could’ve just told me. We coulda done something fun together." His voice drops to a murmur, lips brushing against your ear. "But instead, you ran off all alone… That’s kinda mean, don’tcha think?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Floyd, I didn’t mean it like that—"

In an instant, his mood flips back.

"Hehe, just kidding~!" He suddenly rolls off you, laughing as he sprawls out on the bed again.

"Buuut next time you skip, I’m coming with you. No ifs, ands, or buts. Shrimpy doesn’t get to run away from me, got it?"

Despite the playfulness, you know he’s dead serious. And honestly? It’s safer to just agree. Because when Floyd wants something…

He gets it.

Here’s how Vil, Rook, and Silver would react to you skipping school, each in their own unique way!

Vil Schoenheit

Vil notices your absence immediately. He keeps a close eye on you—not in an overbearing way (or so he claims), but enough to know when something’s off.

It starts when he walks into class and sees your seat empty. He frowns.

"Where is she?" he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

Even Rook, who usually lets things play out naturally, raises an eyebrow at Vil’s reaction.

"Perhaps ma belle has decided to take an impromptu escape from the drudgery of academia?"

Vil clicks his tongue. "Hardly. She wouldn’t skip for no reason. Which means…"

His eyes narrow as he pulls out his phone and dials your number. It rings. And rings. No answer.

Vil is not amused.

By lunch, he has had enough. With a sigh, he closes his notebook, stands up, and says, "If the professors ask, tell them I’m handling a… personal matter."

A few students exchange glances, but no one questions him. When Vil Schoenheit is on a mission, he gets what he wants.

—

You’re lounging at a quiet spot near the outskirts of campus, enjoying the rare moment of solitude, when suddenly—

"There you are."

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice.

Vil stands before you, arms crossed, his violet eyes burning with irritation.

"Would you like to explain to me why you’ve chosen to neglect your studies today?"

You stammer out something about needing a break. The pressure of school, the endless expectations—it was all just too much.

For a moment, Vil just stares at you. Then, with a sigh, he walks over and gracefully sits beside you.

"I understand," he says at last, his tone softer now. "But running away won’t solve anything, my dear. If you were overwhelmed, you should have come to me."

His fingers gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his expression unreadable.

"Your beauty, your mind, your potential—they are things that should be nurtured, not neglected. And if anyone dares to say otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me."

You swallow, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

"But…" he continues, tilting your chin up slightly, "if you ever pull something like this again without informing me, I will drag you back to class myself. Understood?"

With Vil, skipping school is not just about missing lessons. It’s about maintaining excellence—and to him, you deserve nothing less.

Rook Hunt

Rook doesn’t need anyone to tell him you skipped school. He feels it.

The moment he steps into the classroom, a shiver runs down his spine. He scans the room, and sure enough—you’re missing.

"Ah… mon trésor, where could you have vanished to?"

Anyone else might have let it go. But Rook? Rook Hunt?

Oh, no, no, no.

This is a hunt.

—

You think you’ve found the perfect hiding spot—a secluded meadow just beyond campus. The breeze is gentle, the grass soft, and the world feels so blissfully quiet.

But then—

"Ah…! What a rare and exquisite sight! A most beautiful creature, escaping the confines of duty to embrace the wild!"

You jerk up, heart pounding. "Rook?! How—"

He smiles down at you, eyes glimmering with delight.

"My dear, you wound me! Did you truly believe you could evade me?"

You groan. "Can’t I have one day to myself?"

Rook simply chuckles, kneeling beside you. "But of course! And what a splendid setting you have chosen! Ah, the crisp air, the golden sunlight—it is a moment worthy of poetry!"

You sigh, leaning back. "So, you’re not going to drag me back?"

Rook tilts his head.

"Non, non, ma chérie. Who am I to interfere with the call of your spirit?" His voice lowers, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "However… I must ask—were you running to something… or from something?"

You pause. You hadn’t thought about it that way.

Rook hums, plucking a flower and tucking it behind your ear.

"Whatever it is, you need not face it alone. If ever you wish to flee again… invite me along, oui? Let us embark on a grand adventure together."

His words are sweet, but the message is clear—next time, he will find you. And next time… you might not mind.

Silver

Silver is usually the one who accidentally skips class (thanks to his habit of falling asleep anywhere), so when he realizes you’re the one missing, it catches him off guard.

Lilia is the first to notice his concern.

"Looking for someone, Silver?" he asks, sipping his tea.

Silver hesitates. "She’s not here. She wasn’t in class this morning."

Lilia chuckles. "Ah, young love. Are you worried, or do you just miss her?"

Silver’s ears turn a little pink. "That’s not—"

But he is worried.

So, after finishing his morning duties, he sets off to find you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds you by a quiet stream, legs dangling over the edge, watching the water ripple. You don’t even hear him approach—until he’s sitting beside you.

"Skipping school, huh?" he says, voice calm but firm.

You sigh. "Are you here to lecture me?"

Silver shakes his head. "No. But I am here to make sure you’re okay."

You blink, surprised.

He gazes at the water for a long moment before speaking again.

"I get it. Sometimes, the world moves too fast. Sometimes, you just… need to stop." He exhales. "I’ve felt that way too."

His honesty takes you off guard.

"But," he continues, turning to look at you, "you don’t have to bear it alone. If you ever need to slow down… let me stay by your side."

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice. Silver has always been gentle, always patient—but beneath it all is a quiet strength, one that makes you feel… safe.

He offers you his hand. "Let’s go back together. But if you really don’t want to, then I’ll stay here with you."

You stare at his outstretched hand. And for the first time today, you don’t feel like you have to run.

Because with Silver beside you, the world doesn’t seem so overwhelming anymore.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek prided himself on being alert, disciplined, and ever-diligent in all things—so when he noticed your absence from class, his first instinct was absolute outrage.

"Where is she?!" he bellowed the moment roll call finished, slamming his hands down on his desk.

The entire class turned to stare. Even Lilia, who was used to Sebek’s theatrics, raised an eyebrow.

"Calm yourself, Sebek. I’m sure she has her reasons," Lilia said, sipping his tea.

Sebek whirled around. "Reasons? What reasons could possibly justify this?! My human— I mean, my beloved has abandoned her education!"

His heart raced in his chest, not just from frustration, but from concern. What if something had happened to you? What if you were in danger? What if—gasp—you were avoiding him?!

No. Unacceptable.

Without hesitation, Sebek stormed out of class, determined to find you and drag you back to school himself.

—

You were relaxing in a quiet corner of the gardens, lying beneath the shade of a tree, finally enjoying some peace. That is, until—

"HUMAN!"

The roar of your name nearly sent you flying out of your seat. Before you could even react, Sebek loomed over you, arms crossed, golden eyes blazing with intensity.

"You dare to SKIP CLASS?! What kind of nonsense is this?! Have you no sense of duty?!"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Sebek, please. Not so loud."

"LOUD?!" he repeated, even louder. "How can I possibly remain quiet when you have committed such a heinous act?! Skipping school—DISGRACEFUL!"

You sighed. "I just needed a break. I wasn’t in the mood for class today."

Sebek scowled. He wanted to scold you further—to lecture you on the importance of education, of discipline, of honor—but then… he saw the tired look in your eyes.

His frustration wavered.

"You… were not in the mood?" he repeated, his voice softer now.

You nodded. "I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just wanted to breathe a little, that’s all."

Sebek stiffened. His grip on his arms tightened. His natural instinct was to demand you push through it—to insist that duty must always come first.

But then… he thought of Lord Malleus. How often had his master been told to put his responsibilities first? How often had he been isolated because of that very thinking?

Sebek hesitated. Then, very slowly, he sat down beside you.

"If you were feeling unwell… you should have informed me." His voice was still gruff, but gentler now. "It is my duty to stand by your side, no matter the circumstance."

You blinked, surprised by the change in his tone. Sebek? Being understanding? That was new.

He cleared his throat. "But! This does NOT mean I condone such behavior!" He huffed, turning away. "If you must rest, then rest properly! Not by… skipping school like some delinquent!"

You smiled. "So, you’re not mad?"

"OF COURSE I AM—!" He caught himself, exhaled sharply, then muttered, "…Just do not make a habit of it."

You giggled. Despite all his dramatic ranting, you could tell he was genuinely worried about you.

And maybe, just maybe… Sebek Zigvolt cared more about your well-being than he let on.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus immediately noticed your absence the moment he stepped into class.

At first, he thought you were simply running late. But as the minutes passed and your seat remained empty, his usual calm began to crack.

"She is not here," he murmured to himself, fingers tapping lightly against his desk.

Lilia, watching from the side, smiled knowingly. "Ah, young love. Worried already?"

Malleus said nothing, but his green eyes darkened.

The moment class ended, he vanished. Not even his retainers could stop him.

—

You were peacefully sitting beneath a willow tree, flipping through a book, when the sky suddenly dimmed.

A chill ran through the air. The once-bright afternoon grew darker, as if the sun itself was hiding.

And then—

"There you are."

Your head snapped up. Standing before you, tall and regal as ever, was Malleus. His emerald gaze bore into yours, unreadable and intense.

"You did not come to class today," he stated. Not a question. A fact.

You swallowed. "I just… needed a break."

Malleus was silent for a long moment. Then, he took slow, deliberate steps forward.

"A break," he repeated softly. "From school… or from me?"

Your eyes widened. "Wait, what? No, Malleus, I—"

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance. He stood so close, his presence towering, consuming.

"Do you understand how worried I was?" His voice was gentle, yet firm. "You disappeared without a word. Do you truly believe I would not seek you out?"

You fumbled for words, guilt creeping into your chest.

"I didn’t think it would be a big deal—"

"You are my beloved."

The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, so absolute—made your breath hitch.

"Everything about you is a 'big deal' to me."

Your heart pounded. You opened your mouth to respond, but Malleus was already sitting beside you, his usual regal demeanor softening.

"If you wished to escape," he murmured, "you need only call for me. I would take you anywhere you desire."

His fingers ghosted over yours.

"But next time, do not disappear on your own. My heart does not take well to such… uncertainty."

A lump formed in your throat. You hadn't meant to worry him—not like this.

You turned, meeting his gaze. "I promise. Next time… I’ll tell you."

His expression eased, and a rare, soft smile graced his lips.

"Good."

And just like that, the sky brightened once more.

Malleus Draconia was no stranger to solitude. But when it came to you…

He would not tolerate being left behind.

[sweetlovepascal]

pleasure bound

pairings harry castillo x younger!reader

summary you and harry keep things hush-hush, just business on the surface but in the elevator, all bets are off. later that night, the secret feels even sweeter, especially knowing your father would actually be okay with it.

“look at you, my spoiled little heiress… sittin’ on me like you own me.”

content nsfw 18+, explicit sexual content, secret relationship, age gap, rich heiress reader, billionaire, consensual intimacy, oral (f receiving), multiple positions, reader is on birth control, unprotected sex, teasing foreplay, reader is confident and assertive in private. proceed with care.

masterlist

the elevator doors close with a soft click suspended above the city.

you stand beside him. close, but not touching. not yet.

to the cameras, to the world, you are nothing more than business allies. but here, in this pocket of silence, every heartbeat says otherwise.

his pinky brushes yours.

you don’t look at him. you don’t need to.

“i spent that whole board meeting pretending not to look at you and all i wanted was to reach over and touch your hand.” harry whispered, voice low and strained with restraint.

your lips curve, slow and sweet.

“one more minute and i would’ve kissed you in front of all of them,” you murmured, barely turning your head.

that draws a quiet laugh from him. soft and disbelieving.

“you’re dangerous,” he said, looking at you now.

“so are you,” you replied with a little tilt of your chin. “but at least i admit it.”

he watched you for a moment, like he was trying to memorize you. eyes tracing your cheek, the curve of your mouth, the slope of your shoulders.

harry reached for you slowly, one hand rising to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers grazing your jaw.

then, gently, like he couldn’t help himself anymore, he leaned in.

your noses brushed. you closed your eyes.

and when his lips finally touched yours, it wasn’t rushed or frantic. it was reverent. warm. the kind of kiss that lingered long after it ended.

his hand cupped your cheek as your fingers curled into the front of his suit, pulling him just a little closer, just a little longer.

when you finally parted, breathless and smiling, you whispered into the space between your mouths.

“tonight. come by. back entrance. no security.”

“and what would the heiress of the sorelli family say if i just showed up unannounced?”

“she’d say she missed you,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his.

he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“and what would her father say?”

you tilted your head with a small, knowing smile.

soft and spoiled all at once.

“he wouldn’t know. he still thinks i’m too busy running empires to fall in love.”

the elevator chimed.

as the doors slid open, harry’s hand found the small of your back. he guided you out like nothing had happened.

like he hadn’t just kissed the one woman he wasn’t supposed to fall for.

your pulse was still racing as you walked through the lobby and his fingertips lingered against your spine.

the house was quiet. jazz floated lazily from the record player.

you wore nothing but silk and bare skin, the cool floor beneath your feet grounding you as you padded down the hallway.

you heard the door open and close with care. no knocks. no voices.

his footsteps.

you stepped into the hall, standing where the shadows met the light.

“took you long enough,” you said with a small smile.

harry looked up, still wearing his coat, hair tousled from the wind, eyes warm and tired and completely focused on you.

“i tried not to speed,” he said quietly.

you walked toward him, slow and barefoot, letting your eyes drink him in.

he reached for you without thinking, his hand finding your wrist, thumb brushing the inside of it like he needed that touch to breathe.

“you’re late,” you teased softly.

“i didn’t want anyone to follow me,” he murmured, gaze sweeping over your figure with something that looked like longing and something that felt like relief.

you stepped into his space and curled your arms around his neck. he pulled you close without hesitation, one hand sliding along the curve of your back.

“good,” you whispered against the side of his throat. “because i don’t want to share you tonight.”

he closed his eyes as your breath warmed his skin.

“you never do,” he said, and you could feel the smile in his voice.

when harry kissed you again. slow, lingering, his hands gentle on your waist, it felt inevitable.

the way his lips explored yours with aching care.

the way his body fit perfectly against yours when you leaned into him, silk against wool.

now, you’re in your bedroom.

he’s standing between your thighs as you sit on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a fresh silk slip.

one he hasn’t seen yet. midnight blue.

he looks at you like he can’t believe you’re real.

his blazer drops to the floor with a quiet thud.

you reach up, undoing each button of his dress shirt with slow, steady fingers, your palms skimming over his chest, tracing muscle and hair.

he exhales shakily, leaning into your touch like he’s been starving for it.

then his hands slide to your thighs, the silk beneath his fingertips.

he lifts the slip just slightly.

you see the shift in his expression: confusion, surprise, then a wicked sort of delight.

he looks up at you slowly, voice low and thick.

“you’re not wearing any panties.”

you smirk, all sweet mischief.

“i got comfortable.”

he huffs out a soft, dark laugh, shaking his head as his hands skim higher, cupping the backs of your thighs.

“you’re a naughty girl,” he murmurs, his voice turning rough with arousal. “sitting here like this. waiting for me. silk and nothing else.”

“i knew you’d appreciate it.”

“oh, i do,” he growls softly, dropping to his knees between your legs. “now lie back, sweetheart.”

you obey, easing onto the pillows as your slip pools around your hips, exposing soft, bare skin. your legs part for him without hesitation.

he kisses your knee. then your thigh. his hands stroke the length of you with reverence and hunger.

and then his mouth is on you.

the first flick of his tongue is light, teasing and barely there.

he watches you as he licks, eyes dark and focused, like your pleasure is the only thing that matters.

you gasp softly, back arching when his tongue grows bolder.

stroking you in slow circles, licking deep and firm. his hands spread your thighs wider as he settles in.

“you taste like heaven, baby,” he whispers between strokes.

you moan, one hand tangled in his hair, the other clutching the sheets.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, lips brushing your slick skin. “just relax. let me make you feel good.”

he flattens his tongue and drags it from your entrance to your clit in one long, devastating pass, then circles your clit again and again.

his pace is slow, relentless. he draws out every whimper, every trembling breath.

and he doesn’t stop when your legs start to tremble. he doesn’t stop when your hips lift off the bed, chasing his mouth.

in fact he grins against you, fingers digging into your thighs to hold you still.

“stay right there for me, sweetheart.”

your body builds with pressure, pleasure curling tighter, hotter. his tongue never letting up over and over and over until you’re writhing, whimpering his name.

“harry—please—”

he groans, licking faster, more focused now. his tongue flicks, presses, circles your clit with maddening precision, keeping you right on the edge.

“let me feel it.”

your body goes taut. it’s overwhelming.

your thighs clamp around his head, your voice breaks on his name, and he holds you through every wave.

but he doesn’t stop.

even after your orgasm crashes over you, his tongue keeps moving, slow and soft, then quick and pointed. overstimulation licks at your nerves, making you twitch beneath him.

“too much—harry—”

he lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“shh. one more, baby. just one more. i’ve got you.”

his fingers slide inside you. two.

his thumb replacing his tongue to rub your clit in tight, perfect circles.

you sob a breath, overwhelmed and shaking.

“you’re soaked,” he murmurs, pressing deep. “so fucking tight. let me see you fall apart again.”

his name spills from your lips like a prayer as your body coils again trembling around his fingers.

you come harder this time, vision going white around the edges.

he kisses your thigh, then your stomach, then pulls you up gently into his arms.

you’re panting, limp and trembling against his chest.

“you okay?” he whispers into your hair, brushing it back.

you nod, clinging to him.

“too good,” you manage.

he kisses your temple then your lips.

“not done yet, i still need to be inside you.” he murmurs.

his lips press to your jaw, then lower along your throat, over your chest.

you’re still trembling, but you don’t want to stop. you want more. all of him.

he knows. he always knows.

“you want to ride me?” harry whispers, his large hands sliding down your sides before gripping your hips firmly. “take what you need?”

you nod, breath caught in your throat. you push lightly on his chest, urging him to lean back, propped up against the headboard.

slowly, you straddle him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs.

his cock, flushed and slick with your arousal, stands hard between you, glistening with precum.

it’s already leaking for you.

you reach down, your hand wrapping around him, sliding along his slick length to line him up.

his dark eyes lock on yours, full of heat.

“look at you, my spoiled little heiress… sittin’ on me like you own me.”

“i do,” you whisper, lips brushing over his.

you sink down slowly, every inch filling you, your silk slip sliding and clinging to your curves.

harry’s hands find your hips first then they trail up your sides until his fingers curl under your slip.

cupping your breasts with hunger thumbs tracing circles around your swollen nipples until they pebble, hardening beneath his touch.

your breasts bounce, pressing into his chest and palms with each slow, deep roll of your hips.

a strangled groan escapes him.

“you’re gonna fucking kill me,” he groans, eyes darkening as he drinks in the sight of you riding him, your tits trembling in his grasp.

you lean down to kiss him. messy and desperate. his mouth claims yours, teeth grazing your lower lip.

your thighs tremble, your body slick with need and silk.

“turn around for me,” he pants, voice low and commanding. “on your hands and knees. let me take care of you.”

you whimper but obey, sliding off and flipping over onto the pillows, chest pressed down, ass raised in the air.

his eyes darken as he takes in the slick heat between your thighs.

“look at you,” he growls. “so fucking wet. so fucking ready.”

his cock lines up with your entrance, and then he presses in slow.

you cry out, burying your face in the sheets, your body arching involuntarily.

harry’s hands grip your hips hard, but one slides up your side, slipping beneath the silk slip to cup and knead your breast.

with every deep, powerful thrust, your breast bounces, the silk sliding and catching, heightening every sensation.

skin slaps, slick moans, and harsh breaths fill the room.

“that’s it,” he hisses. “take it. take all of it.”

your nails rake the sheets as you moan, your body trembling under his relentless pace.

“harry—fuck—”

he growls your name, pulling your hair lightly, arching your back. his hand moves between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit as he pounds into you harder, fingers curling into your hip.

one hand slides back to your breast with a desperate worship that sends hot jolts through your core.

“you gonna come like this? stuffed full of me?” he pants.

you nod, breath ragged.

“i’m so close—”

“come for me,” he demands, voice rough. “now.”

your orgasm crashes through you like thunder, whole body trembling, muscles clenching hard around him as you scream his name.

harry pulls out, flipping you over again, lips pressing feverishly to yours.

now he’s on top. his mouth claims yours. kissing you deep and hungry, he presses back into you, slow and full. his other hand cups your face, holding you close, eyes dark with need.

“you’re mine,” he whispers against your lips. “every inch.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist, nails sinking into his back.

his thrusts grow more urgent, deeper, chasing release.

you’re right there with him, heat and pleasure crashing through your veins.

“come with me,” he begs, forehead pressed to yours. “one more, baby.”

your bodies lock together as he spills inside you, hips jerking, whole body shaking with release.

he stays buried deep, panting against your neck.

then soft kisses trail from your jaw to your shoulder to your lips.

he holds you close, skin to skin. “i’ll never let you go.”

[ssahotchnerr]

Aaron texting reader on his way home after a case that he has some “minor bruises” on his face from something that happened on the case and him coming home and reader’s reaction being like “we need to talk about our definitions of the word ‘minor’” and then taking care of him even though he insists he’s fine??? I love a hurt/comfort moment!!!!!!!

a matter of perspective

ugh aaron you stubborn man 😣<3 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, injury and blood descriptions, hurt to comfort, fluff!!! wc; 1.1k

I don't want you to freak out.

Your heart stopped. A second text chimed in soon after.

And I'm fine. Please don't worry.

Frowning, worry deepened in your brows as your fingers flew across the keyboard - What happened????

Minor altercation. Minor bruises on my face. Thought I'd warn you so it's not a surprise.

You exhaled heavily as a sinking feeling settled in your chest, simply replying with a :( . Your phone went off again seconds after.

I'm just fine darling. Be home in thirty. I love you.

Anxiously awaiting his return you settled into bed, book in your lap as you attempted to pass the time. You mindlessly stared at each page, not absorbing any of the plot or dialogue whatsoever. Instead, you were distracted with one singular thought: if it had actually been a small bruise, he wouldn't have said anything.

You've seen your fair share of injured Aaron - scrapes, pulled muscles, bruises. You've been the one to re-dress his wounds as needed: re-bandaging, cleaning, massaging the knots out of his tense areas.

If he gave you a warning, it had to be bad. And when he finally entered your shared bedroom, it was clear you'd been right.

Dark bruises shaded his cheekbones, different hues of color painting his skin. The same was present along his chin and jawline. His lip was a tad swollen, the coloring indicating a lip bleed as well. Whoever had it in for him, clearly targeted his face and successfully landed the punches. Your heart plummeted into your stomach, book falling forgotten to the side.

Reading your face, he attempted humor to alleviate the situation. Although coming from him, his joking fell flat, sounding rather defeated. "You should've seen the other guy."

"Aaron." You squeaked gently, throwing the duvet off yourself and hurrying to him. Your hand cupped his cheek, tilting it towards the light. "Oh my god."

It was worse up close, vivid purple with pink spotting, and a black eye in the making. Your stomach lurched again, feeling sick due to the sight and pain he must've felt.

He winced, mustering up some normalcy in his voice. "It really doesn't hurt."

"Yeah, and I'm suddenly the director of the Bureau." You sighed, running your thumb ever so carefully across the broken surface of his skin. "This is what you call minor?"

His gaze held yours, a faint guilt flickering in his brown eyes. "Yes?"

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" You did a quick scan, gently grabbing his wrists and taking a small step back. "Concussion? Did you see a medic?"

He shook his head, regretting the brisk movement immediately. "Nothing else. No concussion, and yes, I did. Figured my wife would have a fit if I didn't."

The words lightly left him, a soft smile on his face, meant to soothe. It kinda worked; still were you gravely unsettled, but at least he had been cleared by a medical profession - that eased some of your worry lines.

You tutted softly, a sigh leaving you as your hand found his face once more. "Get changed, do what you need to do, and get into bed. You need to take it easy." You began to retreat, until your next thought caused you to pause. "Or do you need my help-"

"I'm fine." He insisted, offering you a kiss in hopes of settling your worries further. He kissed you tentatively, in concern of his lip that 'didn't hurt', you were sure. "It looks worse than it is. It's just part of the job."

Yeah, and you hated that.

You hurried to the kitchen, in search of the ice pack kept in the freezer. For Jack - susceptible to soccer and your normal kid bumps. And evidently for your husband, with his dangerous occupation. Before heading back up, you grabbed a few other necessities.

When you returned, Aaron had changed, sitting up against his pillow. After placing a cup of water and ibuprofen on his nightstand, you climbed onto his lap, straddling it.

"Oh?"

"You're funny." You laughed as his hands went to your hips, scrunching your nose at him before pressing the ice pack to his cheek. Gingerly - he flinched at the contact. "We're discussing the exact definition of what constitutes a minor injury."

He leaned back, letting you take charge. "Alright."

"Minor injuries. Paper cuts, a nose bleed, I'll even throw in a goose egg, but that can vary. Maybe a small bruise." You narrowed your eyes teasingly, so he wouldn't run with the idea. You moved the ice pack to his jaw, wishing you had one that would dote on all bruises at the same time. "Not minor injuries: everything I didn't list."

A stiff chuckle shook through his chest, but quickly faded. He nodded once, "understood."

"I'm serious," you stated firmly, brushing a few of his cowlicks back. Your tone at end of your sentence hinted you had more on your mind, and you had intended on continuing, yet you stayed silent.

Aaron felt it, the way your body dropped. The small drag of your finger on his wrist, a self-soothing measure. The subtle, tense swallow in your throat, a clear sign you were holding back tears.

"Hey," his hand squeezed your hip, indicating he wanted to see your eyes. "I am okay. Don't cry, sweetheart."

"I know," you said as you met Aaron's gaze, his thumb lifted to pad away a lone tear. "I just... don't like it. Or will I ever get used to it. Seeing you in pain... seeing the pain. I hate it. I hate it so much."

He nodded apologetically, his eyes full of quiet remorse. "It comes with the territory, unfortunately."

His words were a simple reminder that this wouldn't be the last time he would come home covered in blood, contusions, or worse. Much much much worse. You shook the thought from your head, not wanting to dwell on it.

"I want to reassure you that I am being careful, I promise. I wouldn't put myself in grave danger unnecessarily. I want to come home to you in one piece."

You nodded, your gaze dropping once more to the patterned duvet below. A whispered hey passed his lips, lifting your chin with his index finger before his hand slid softly against your skin, his palm cupping your cheek.

You offered him a weak smile, your eyes full of sympathy as you leaned into his touch, your expression only softening further when you got a closer look at his injured face. "I do appreciate you letting me know though."

"Of course. Please let me know if there's anything I can do more."

"Really?" You raised an eyebrow, causing a soft crease of curiosity to form between his brows. "Think you could suggest adding a layer of bubble wrap to agent uniforms?"

He laughed warmly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll see what I can do."

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: ghostface, yandere, prank calls, threats, implied kidnapping, implied noncon

♡ FEM reader

It was already past midnight. And you, despite your half-mast eyes, were still lying stomach-down, sprawled out on the couch, too lazy to get up.

Some dumb show about some dumb dysfunctional family was playing low on the TV in front of you, not much to your interest, or at least not enough to keep you awake, but enough to act as white noise you didn’t mind letting lull you to sleep.

You were beginning to drool on your pillow, struggling with the indecision of getting up to brush your teeth and the more tempting, pleasant thought of simply sleeping right there, without the chores of getting ready for bed.

Your arm was mindlessly dangling towards the ground where the remote had slipped some time ago, along with your phone, that suddenly, just when it looked like you were about to fully nod off, started to ring.

Startled awake, you flinched at the sheer chimes buzzing loudly beneath you, like an alarm clock was going off. However, by the looks of the pitch-black darkness outside the window, it was visibly still the middle of the night.

You groaned then, both out of ire and a bit of relief—happy you could fall asleep again without needing to worry, yet reluctant to have to speak to someone for much of the same reason. 

Deliberating it for a small moment, you thought it might be a friend with some silly emergency and were tempted to ignore it before guilt got in the way—where with a pinch between your brows and a big yawn, you swiped to answer it. Stating under your breath that whoever it was owed you big time.

Clicking speakerphone, you had your eyes still fully closed while croaking out a groggy and slightly bothered, “Hello?”

You expected to hear drunken cries and the muted thumps of base and beat and club chatter or something like it—all in all, at least a whiney drunken voice belonging to a friend—but none of the sort was at the other end of the line.

“Hello,” a dark voice replied—audibly altered by a scrambler.

It startled you—enough to make your eyes open at least—still, you didn’t really have the sensibility to think too much of it just yet.

“Who’s this?” you asked.

“Who’s this?” he echoed back, making your brows further scrunch. 

“You’re the one calling?” you said in askance, dragging your head from the pillow to peek down at the phone on the floor, viewing the caller ID, which gave you next to nothing aside from letting you know that your caller was unknown.

“You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine,” he offered then, and your suspicions of it being a prank call only solidified.

And although the corner of your mouth quirked upward by the sentiment, it was unfortunately just a bit too late for you to be in the mood.

“I’m a little too sleepy for pranks right now—sorry. Try again tomorrow, bye,” you managed to muster through a yawn, hanging up and thinking that was the end of it.

Only, it didn’t take long for the phone to ring again.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” the same voice asked through the phone, now a little whiney, though obviously playing it up.

The thought of simply hanging up again crossed your mind, but at the same time, you didn’t really see the harm in talking for a bit. You were awake now anyway, and you couldn't exactly deny being a little intrigued. After all, given that he was using a voice scrambler, it wasn’t so unlikely that it was someone you knew.

And with that, you figured you’d humor them, if only for a little while before getting up and brushing your teeth. And so, you ask, “Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”

And it answered, “No~” still in that very altered voice that made it impossible to place.

“Well, my mother taught me better,” you joked with a tiny laugh, thinking the entire thing was kind of exciting now that you were sobering up.

Not knowing exactly who was on the other end made you feel all giddy, head spinning over who it might be, whether it was a coworker or friend, or someone else entirely. You couldn't quite figure out who would bother to do such a thing in the dead of night—to you, of all people.

“Oh, come on, aren’t you tired of being a goody-two-shoes?” he flirted back, and you giggled a little louder while picking the phone up from the floor, now keeping it close to your chest as if you were a teenager whispering naughty things to your boyfriend in the dead of night so that your parents wouldn't hear.

“Fine then, Mr. Stranger~” you say slowly and coyly, rolling over onto your back before continuing. “What did you wanna talk to me about?” 

A dark chuckle came back through the phone, making your stomach purr in turn before he spoke again, “What are you wearing?”

You paused at that, cheeks heating with teeth sinking deep into your lip. Looking down at your drab pajamas, you didn’t exactly feel inclined to be truthful. “Hm…”

Pondering for a moment, you smile.

“Sexy lingerie~” you lie through your teeth, trying hard to keep from laughing as you put on your best mock-sultry voice.

“I don’t like liars,” the man answered. “I know you’re in your jammies.”

You pouted then. “Okay, fine—you caught me.” 

“Still sexy, though,” he added, making you giggle again.

“And you’re a little creepy, Mr. Stranger. You aren't stalking me, are you?” you ask in a tease, biting your lip with a smile while looking at the phone, eager for his reply.

Only his answer isn't very nice. “You’re the one begging for it, whoring around with an unknown man on the phone, slut.”

Your eyes widened, skin taken by a cold rush. In the same way you'd react when spotting a mosquito on your arm, you abruptly slapped the phone and hung up.

His voice had changed, turned darker, and immediately the whole conversation didn’t feel very fun anymore. Suddenly sour, it left a foul taste in your mouth that made you feel all in all rather stupid for even having amused it in the first place.

But once again… it only took a few seconds for the phone to ring a third time. 

“Don’t hang up on me,” the same voice demanded.

And while both fed up and put off, you sighed with a huff, voice sharp, asking him, “What do you want?”

“Don't be like that. I told you already, I only want to know your name~” he said, his playful tone of voice back again—only this time, you weren’t at all charmed by it anymore.

“Why do you want to know my name?” you bit out sourly. Unsure why you were still on the phone, and even more unsure why you even bothered picking up yet again at all.

“Well… ‘cause…” he began slowly with a pause, and your brows only sunk lower with his antics, finding yourself properly pissed-off until he uttered the next line, only now in a deeply unsettling whisper. “I want to know who I’m looking at.”

You went cold, and colder than cold with a chill running sharply down your spine. 

Sitting up slowly, eyes alert, you held the phone tightly in your grip while looking at all the windows, viewing the darkness outside.

“Oh, you look cute when you’re scared~” he continued, making you jump to your feet and stomp over to the first window, frantically drawing the curtains one after the other until none remained.

“Quit calling,” you finished, hanging up for what you really wished would be the last time.

However, seconds later, the phone rang again despite your wish. But this time, you let it ring, deliberating whether you ought to call the police or simply ignore it until it stopped. 

You went to check if the outer door was locked before padding back to the couch, listening to the phone finish ringing before beginning anew.

You figured he’d stop after a while, but minutes passed without a break until you finally picked up, not out of fear, but anger.

“I told you not to hang up on me!” he yelled, and you snarled in turn.

“Listen, asshole-”

“No, you listen, you stupid bitch—” he interrupted. “If you hang up on me again, I’ll wring your little neck ‘til your eyes pop out of your skull!”

You gaped at his threats but weren’t about to let yourself be bullied either. “If you don’t stop calling, the next call will be to the police!”

“Tch—” he scoffed before laughter spilled through the speaker. Crackling harshly through the scrambler, louder and louder until it stopped with the next utterance, “Stupid pigs won’t make it in time.”

There was a crash of glass somewhere upstairs, and you flinched while withholding a scream. 

Fear hit you like a flash, robbing you of breath before your instinct took you towards the door. 

Rushing, wide-eyed and goosefleshed, you swallowed thickly while trying to think. With your phone gripped tightly in one hand, you tried pushing in the numbers to the police—while at the same time struggling with the lock to the door, shaking the knob with no fruition until finally pushing it open.

You cast a glance over your shoulder, viewing the empty house that now suddenly seemed much darker than before and the eerie staircase leading up to the earlier crash—ears going deaf with the rush of blood in your head, pumping thick from the panicked beating of your heart. 

As you turn around again, you hear shoes coming thundering down the stairs as you take a rushed step without yet facing forward. You had your mind set on running to the neighbors, only, instead of bursting out into the open street, you were sent backwards into the house again, stumbling until you hit the floor with a wince. 

Your phone slipped from your hand, not only crashing to the ground as hard as you did but smashing into a broken mess as well—now utterly useless.

A dark-cloaked figure stood at the threshold, taking up the entire frame. At the same time, there's a tall presence behind you clad in the exact same way. Screaming white mask and all.

“Silly bitch,” the one in front said nonchalantly, stepping inside—shoulders broad and boots heavy.

The one behind laughed, bringing forth a large knife that made your life flash vividly before your very eyes.

“Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to let strangers inside the house?”

♡ BNHA – Kiri-Baku, Shiga-Dabi, Dabi-Hawks, Kiri-Denki, Shin-Baku ♡ JJK – Suku-Jaku, Suku-Go, Sato-Sugu, Ken-Hito ♡ HQ – KuroTsuki, KuroLev, IwaKyo, Miya twins, ♡ BLLK – NagiReo, RinSae, RyuSae

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[dissolved-g1rl]

What if buck got a bit self conscious about being way older than the reader, like probably in the early stages of their relationship

Bc maybe someone told him or he overheard something at a bar bc they were hanging out there?

I just want to comfort my boy

imagine me & you ♡

He has his arm around your shoulder, gently running cool metal down your arm as you babble on about something about your stubborn professor who isn’t replying to your e-mails. “Mhm” he hums nodding along in agreement with your complaints. You bat your eyelashes at him, pouting, “You’re not even listening!” you grumble, the little furrow appears when you knit your brows. “Yes I am!” Bucky denies, using his thumb to smooth the little wrinkle. “What’d I just say?” You say lulling your head back. He cups the back of your head, pressing a kiss to you lips till that cute pout he loves is smothered away. “That you need another beer.” He says pulling away

He smiles when you push him towards the bar. He pads over, it’s pretty noisy, a big game going on at a local university. Guys and girls gearing more towards your age make the bar lively. He taps his fingers against the bar, ordering two more beers for the two of you. Two girls wearing sparkly shirts, a sorority he guesses, whisper to one another, cupping around their mouths and giggling—“old enough to be her dad.” he catches. He feels hot under the collar with embarrassment. Great, great, great granddad actually, yet he digresses. He thinks for a centurion he looks pretty good. Sure, he won’t always get your references, but he’s only old by logic. He’s got all the bells and whistles, gets it up just fine—maybe too easy. He’s got some stray grays, you and your drooly cunt like ‘em just fine. And sure, he’s put on a little bit of weight over the years, he doesn’t mind. Despite this, that hot feeling of embarrassment still weighs heavily on his heart. You could do better. Better than a man who has to check his sperm count annually, better than a man who still writes everything in cursive, better than a man who has more years behind him than in front. The clink of glass against the bar redirects his attention, right, beer.

He hands you your beer, you still crinkle your nose when you drink—he used to find it cute. He’s starkly reminded of the fact that you are not used to drinking yet. He sighs, smoothing the frizz in your hair. You raise your brow, patting his leg. “Something wrong?” You ask, tracing a heart onto his knee. He smiles, a bit tight lipped. “Nothin’s wrong baby.” Bucky denies pinching your cheek till you bat his hand away. “Yeah right, you big grump!” You say, draping your arm around his shoulders, shifting till you’re settled onto his lap. Your weight on top of him is a welcomed pressure, he wraps his arms around your middle, peppering your nape in kisses. People cheer, touchdown or something. He thinks it’ll be fine —you and him. He doesn’t have that much to teach you, not really, but you sure do teach him a lot of things everyday. He’ll have you for as long as you have him. Bucky hopes for forever. “Love you.” He chimes, just to you, it’s intimate. Secluded by the booth, yet liveliness surrounds you. “I love you too Buck!” You reply easily, you mean it—showing him your pretty smile that makes him almost queasy with how sweet you look. The three words soothe his worries, thats right, you love him, and he loves you.

credit to @cursed-carmine for dividers

a/n: not proof read, sowwy for any mistakes

[marscardigan]

after midnight

neighbor!ellie williams x reader

neighbor!ellie universe

summary: turns out having your girlfriend as a neighbor might have its pros.

word count: 5.5k

THE BELL ABOVE the record store door chimed as you stepped inside, the off-key jingle already familiar. That comforting scent of old CDS, wood polish, and faint incense hit you instantly—Ellie’s world, lived in and real, and lately? A place you’d started thinking of as your favorite part of the day.

Your eyes scanned the shop, smiling instantly when you spotted her behind the counter. Ellie was bent over a stack of records, tongue peeking out between her lips as she scribbled some price tags. She was in her usual uniform—baggy flannel, sleeves pushed to her elbows, her tattooed forearm lazily resting against the register. Her hair was a little tousled, cheeks flushed like she’d been rushing around, and she was mouthing lyrics to whatever was playing softly overhead—Pixies, if you were hearing it right.

You leaned against the counter. "Hey, pretty girl."

Ellie jumped slightly, then quickly smoothed out her expression—though the pink in her cheeks deepened instantly. "You’re gonna give me a heart attack doing that," she mumbled, but her eyes sparkled as she took you in. "Also… hey."

"Missed me much?"

Ellie tried to act chill, but her smirk betrayed her. "Nah. I’ve had a great time reorganizing punk bands alphabetically. Living the dream."

"She’s lying," Jesse called out from the back. "She changed her shirt three times this morning."

"Dude," Ellie hissed.

You turned your grin toward Jesse, who was leaning out from behind one of the shelves with a box of used records. "Seriously?"

"She tried to wear the black one, then the gray one, then the black one again. I told her it didn’t matter, but apparently it really matters what you wear when your girlfriend comes by."

Ellie groaned and dropped her head to the counter. "I will kill you."

Jesse shrugged, unfazed. "Not before I write a song about this moment and play it in your funeral slideshow."

You laughed, leaning closer to Ellie’s crumpled form. "So… black shirt, huh?"

Her voice was muffled against the countertop. "I thought you liked the black one."

"I do." You reached up and gently tugged the collar of her flannel, teasing. "But I like you flustered even more."

Ellie sat up, squinting at you. "You’re evil."

You just gave her your most innocent smile.

"Okay," she said, crossing her arms and pretending to lean back casually, "well if you’re gonna come in here looking like that—"

"Like what?"

"You know what," she muttered, her voice dropping just enough to make your breath hitch.

Jesse groaned from the back again. "If you two start making out on the counter, I’m calling your mom."

"I like her mom," Ellie shot back.

"Yeah, and her mom likes me more. Be afraid."

You choked on your laugh as Ellie blinked, betrayed. "What—"

"She follows me on Instagram," Jesse added smugly, vanishing back into the jazz section.

"Unreal," Ellie muttered.

You brushed your fingers against hers on the counter. "I think he might be my favorite coworker of yours."

"I am your favorite coworker!" Jesse yelled without missing a beat.

Ellie just stared at you, that little soft look settling back on her face. "He is a pain, I will give that, but… he likes you. A lot."

"Clearly." You bumped your knee against hers. "You jealous?"

Ellie raised a brow, her lips twitching. "You want me to be?"

"Maybe," you replied sweetly. "You’re cute when you get all huffy."

Ellie leaned in just a little, her voice low and teasing. "If you want me to get huffy, you’re gonna have to flirt with someone hotter than Jesse."

After a while, Ellie disappeared into the back and returned with something wrapped in brown paper.

"I got this for you," she said, suddenly a little shy again, eyes flicking to yours and then away. "Didn’t know if you had it, but I... I thought of you when I saw it."

You opened the paper gently—and gasped.

It was a first press vinyl. An artist you’d mentioned only once, months ago, during a late night cuddle session on her couch. She must’ve remembered.

Your voice came out soft. "Ellie…"

"It’s not a big deal," she said quickly, playing with her fingers nervously. "It’s kind of scratched, but I cleaned it up. Should play fine. Just figured…"

You were already throwing your arms around her neck.

She froze for a beat, then melted into you, her hand finding the small of your back instinctively.

"You’re unbelievable," you whispered.

Ellie buried her face in your shoulder, voice muffled. "You say that like it’s a good thing."

You pulled back enough to kiss her cheek, right below her freckle. "It is."

From the back, Jesse made a gagging sound, but neither of you moved away.

The rest of the day went slow and sweet. You stayed until closing, perched behind the register on the stool, flipping through albums while Ellie teased you with music trivia.

She got bolder as the afternoon stretched on—resting her hand on your thigh beneath the counter, brushing her fingers over yours whenever she walked by, low murmurs in your ear that made your chest flutter every time.

YOU WERE TRYING to not psych yourself out too much. Really, you were. You were just going to hang out with Ellie’s best friends, Jesse and Dina. You already knew Jesse. He was easy. Friendly. Teased Ellie in a way that made you feel instantly included.

But Dina… Well. You’d seen her that morning in the hallway, laughing with Ellie like something out of a damn romcom movie. Cool haircut and easy smile. You didn’t even mean to assume anything, but the image had branded itself into your brain and stayed there for a while.

And now Ellie had invited you to a little movie night at her place. Just the four of you. She’d been smiling, nervous and adorable, when she asked. 'She has been bugging me to meet you. Not in a weird way. Just—she’s just curious. You’re important.' You melted on the spot. Obviously had to say yes.

But now, with the microwave humming behind you and your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your hoodie—Ellie’s hoodie—you were bracing yourself for impact.

"Stop looking like you’re about to be sacrificed," Ellie said as she grabbed a drink from the fridge. She was dressed with a faded band tee and sweatpants, her freckles dusted pink with amusement.

"I’m not," you said, not very convincing. "I just—what if Dina hates me?"

Ellie frowned, slightly offended. "Why the hell would Dina hate you?"

You shrugged, and she gave you the Ellie Look. The one that meant you’re being ridiculous, but I also kind of love it. Then, softer: "She’s gonna love you." Then, quickly—"Not like that. I mean—love, like—fuck, you know what I mean."

You laughed, cheeks hot. "You're really bad at calming people down."

"I try my best," she mumbled, nudging your hand with hers. "C’mon. They’re almost here."

The knock came five minutes later, followed by the familiar voice of Jesse shouting through the door, "Ellie! I brought snacks and our combined bad taste in movies!"

Ellie pulled the door open and Jesse walked in like he owned the place, a bag of chips tucked under one arm and a six-pack in the other. "Hey, stranger," he grinned at you, giving you a one-armed hug. "Looking dangerously cozy tonight."

You laughed, giving him a warm smile. "I dressed up for the occasion."

He turned to Ellie. "So, you finally let her wear your real hoodie, huh? What happened to 'this one’s sacred?"

Ellie blushed furiously. "Shut up, Dude."

Then you heard another voice behind him. "Hi! Sorry, I made us stop to pet a cat. Totally worth it though." You looked up—and there she was. Dina. Radiant, cool, confident. And already giving you a warm smile like you were old friends.

You froze for half a second, caught between smile like a normal human for fuck’s sake and panic. Ellie watched your face like she knew exactly what was going through your mind.

Dina stepped forward and held out a hand. "You must be the neighbor. Ellie’s been hopelessly annoying about you."

Ellie groaned, face-palming behind you, and Jesse cackled. "It’s true. Still a loser."

Dina added, "I already feel like I know you. You’re basically a character in the group chat."

That made you laugh, the nerves slowly melting away. "Oh god. Hopefully a flattering character?"

"Absolutely!" Dina answered. "Though I do have questions about how you fell for the grumpy music goblin."

"Rude—"

Dina just winked and took your arm. "C’mon, you’re helping me with the popcorn. I need to know everything."

The kitchen turned into your safe zone. You and Dina hit it off shockingly fast—she was funny, warm, a little chaotic in the way that made you laugh constantly. Within ten minutes, she was mock-interviewing you while stirring cheese sauce for nachos.

Dina opened every cabinet in Ellie’s kitchen, grabbing ingredients and tossing them onto the counter. "We’re doing nachos. And maybe pizza."

She passed you a knife and a cutting board, then nudged her hip into yours like the two of you had done this a hundred times before. "So." She glanced at you sideways while dicing tomatoes. "Ellie’s been a wreck since she met you.”

You snorted. "I seriously doubt that."

"Nope. Total disaster. She’d come into work all flustered, humming Green Day like she’s in high school again."

You glanced toward the living room. “Does she always hum Green Day?”

"Only when she’s in a mood," Dina said, mock-serious. "Like, full-on love-sick loser behavior."

You giggled, cheeks warm. "You’re really selling her, wow."

"She’s got layers. Like an onion. Or a tortured lesbian lasagna."

You nearly dropped the knife from laughing. "A tortured lesbian lasagna?"

Dina grinned, clearly proud of herself. "It’s canon now."

You leaned against the counter, biting back a smile. "You’re not what I expected, honestly."

"Oh?" She looked curious. "What did you expect?"

You hesitated, then gave a sheepish shrug. "I kinda… thought you and Ellie were dating."

Dina blinked, then burst out laughing. "Me? God no. We tried kissing once in freshman year and it was like making out with my cousin."

"Oh my god."

"She made this weird sound with her nose," Dina added, pointing at the bridge of her own. "Like, nnchh—I can’t explain it. Traumatizing."

You doubled over in laughter. "You’re insane."

"And you’re adorable," Dina shot back, poking your arm. "I kinda get Ellie now."

You looked down, trying not to grin too hard.

"I’ve never seen her this soft. She’s usually all 'grr I don’t feel emotions unless they’re in minor chords.'"

You snorted. "She’s been very—sweet."

"Sweet?" Dina wiggled her eyebrows. "Did she show you her little CD shrine yet?"

"…Maybe."

"Then yeah, it’s over for her."

You were giggling over the counter with Dina when Jesse tapped Ellie’s shoulder gently, voice low. "She’s cool," he said.

Ellie didn’t take her eyes off the open kitchen. "Yeah."

Jesse watched her for a moment. "You’ve got that dumbass look on your face again."

She looked at him, deadpan. "Eat shit."

Jesse just grinned. "Can’t help it, huh?"

Ellie softened a little, voice quieter. "Can’t help it. I love seeing my favorite people together."

Jesse elbowed her lightly. "You’re so far gone it’s embarrassing."

Ellie didn’t even bother denying it.

Later, you all crammed onto the couch, Ellie squished between you and Jesse, Dina spread out with her feet in Ellie’s lap and her head in yours. The movie was some ridiculous cult classic Jesse insisted on, and most of the time was spent throwing popcorn at each other and cracking jokes.

By the end of it, Jesse and Dina were dead asleepç, and you were almost on that path. Your head was on Ellie’s shoulder. She looked down, nudged your hair gently with her nose, her voice soft. "You okay?"

You looked up. "Yeah. More than okay."

She smiled. "Told you she’d like you."

You leaned in closer, fingers brushing hers beneath the blanket. "Yeah. She’s great."

Ellie gave you this look—one full of warmth, and something deeper that she maybe didn’t even know how to say yet. And you thought, god. You were so screwed for her.

By the time Dina and Jesse left, it was already past midnight, and the apartment had gone utterly quiet. After hours of chaotic laughter and awful movie marathons, everything had finally settled into a hush. You stirred awake in Ellie’s bed, eyes blinking against the soft darkness. The space beside you was cold.

You sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and instinctively looked toward the balcony door. The curtains swayed slightly with the breeze. You walked over, the hardwood cool under your bare feet, and peeked outside.

Ellie was there. Splayed out lazily on the patio couch—bare arms curled around her knees, a cigarette glowing softly in the dark. She was wearing a dark tank top and some oversized boxers, and her hair was a mess of tangled auburn locks.

You opened the door slowly, letting the cool air kiss your skin. "You’re gonna catch a cold out here, you know."

She didn’t turn immediately, but her lips quirked. "Nah. I’m immune."

You stepped out, arms crossed as you sat by her side. "Nuh-huh. That’s what every sick person says right before they get the flu and whine for three days straight."

Ellie glanced over her shoulder with a sheepish smile. "Okay, I’m maybe a little cold. Just didn’t wanna wake you." She leaned her head back, her voice low. "Tonight was good."

You hummed, pleased with the warmth that her body gave you, and suddenly sleepy again.

"I don’t know, it’s just… Jesse and Dina, they’re my people. They’ve been there through some heavy shit, you know? And seeing you with them…it just... it meant a lot."

You softened, your heart swelling in your chest. "I was nervous. With Dina, I mean. After that whole hallway thing, I thought maybe…"

Ellie groaned, her face falling into her hands for a second. "God, I’m never gonna live that down, am I?"

You laughed, nudging her shoulder softly. "Nope. But hey, it worked out."

Ellie took another drag, then stubbed out the cigarette in a tiny tray perched on the table. "It’s just… it’s kinda crazy. How fast this all happened. But it doesn’t feel rushed, y’know? You being here, in my space, it feels… right."

You rested your head on her shoulder, and Ellie immediately leaned into the touch, her cheek brushing against your hair. You could feel her smiling, even if you couldn’t see her face at the moment "It made me really happy."

Your chest ached in the best way. You leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. "You’re really stuck with me, Williams."

She laughed under her breath. "Good. I kinda like being stuck with you."

Eventually, you whispered, “Come back to bed?”

Ellie stood slowly, stretching out her arms. "Only if you promise not to tell Jesse how soft I got just now."

You grinned, taking her hand. “No promises."

YOU WERE barely awake when you heard the sound of a sniffle. Then a sneeze. Then another. Followed by a dramatic groan.

You open your eyes slowly, and turned your head slightly, frowning as you brought the back of your hand to her forehead. "Oh no, Ellie?"

"Mmmgh," she groaned. "I’m dying."

She was curled under three blankets, hoodie pulled tight over her head, only her red nose poking out. "I feel like death," she croaks.

You bit back a smile. "Oh really? That serious, huh?"

She rolled onto her back dramatically. "This is how it ends."

"Uh-huh." You shifted up onto your elbow, brushing a curl from her sweaty temple. "Told you you’d get sick, dummy. What was that you said last night? Something about being immune?"

"I was," she grumbled, voice hoarse. "Now I’m just... weak. Helpless."

"Pathetic, I would say" you offered, as you leaned down to kiss her burning cheek. "You want tea?"

She nodded, sniffling again. "With honey. And I also need like… the healing power of your presence."

You slid out of bed with a mock-salute. "Coming right up, you big baby."

It wasn’t long before you came back with the warm mug, setting it on the nightstand before sitting cross-legged beside her on the bed. Ellie struggled to sit up, groaning dramatically as she wrapped both hands around the tea and sipped carefully.

"You’re an angel," she murmured.

You grinned, brushing your fingers through her hair. "Don’t forget it."

She looked up at you with droopy, red-rimmed eyes. "Hey, uh… babe?"

"Mm?"

"Can you call Joel?" she asked, her voice suddenly a little sheepish. "We were supposed to get lunch today. Can you tell him… we’re canceling?"

You raised an eyebrow, smiling. "We’re canceling?"

Ellie blinked at you.

"No no, baby," you teased, taking the mug from her hands and setting it aside. "I’m telling him you’re canceling. I’m not getting dragged into the wrath of Joel Miller just ‘cause your dumb ass wouldn’t wear a hoodie."

Ellie groaned and flopped back down, covering her face with her pillow. "Cruel. Heartless. Betrayed by my own girlfriend."

"Go cry about it."

"I will, actually."

You laughed and leaned over to grab your phone from the nightstand. "Fine. I’ll call him. But don’t blame me when he tells you I’m the new favorite."

Ellie mumbled something incoherent as you pressed Joel’s contact and hit Call. He picked up after a few rings.

"Yeah?"

"Hey Joel, it’s me."

"Well, hey there, kid," he said, voice warm with recognition. "You and Ellie on your way?"

"Not exactly," you said with a little wince. "Ellie’s, uh… not doing so good."

He immediately sounded more alert. “What’s goin’ on?”

"She’s got a fever," you explained. "Caught something overnight. She’s okay, just cranky and dramatic about it."

Joel let out a soft chuckle. "That sounds about right."

"She wanted me to call and cancel lunch."

Joel sighed but didn’t sound particularly upset. "Figures. I told her to stop running around dressed like it’s summer."

You smiled, glancing over at Ellie, who was now peeking at you with one eye from under her pillow. "I mean, to be fair, she did say she was immune."

That got a full laugh out of Joel. "You takin’ care of her?"

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see. "Yeah, yeah, I got her. Made her tea, bullied her a little."

"Good," he said. "She’s lucky to have you."

Your chest fluttered, and you ducked your head, suddenly warm. "Thanks, Joel."

There was a pause, then his voice softened a bit. "You know, I wasn’t sure about anyone bein’ good enough for her." You blinked, lips parting. "But you… You might’ve shut me up."

Your throat tightened. You tried to swallow around the lump there. "That means a lot. Really."

"Take care of her, alright?"

"Always."

"Alright. I’ll see you two when she’s upright again."

You ended the call slowly, staring at your phone for a second before glancing back at Ellie. She was still under the pillow, but now she had a tiny, dorky smile on her face. "Shut him up, huh?" she said, voice thick with smugness despite the congestion.

You tossed a pillow at her. "You heard that?!"

"I did," she beamed, catching it and holding it to her chest like a trophy. "That’s the best I’ve ever felt while being miserable."

You slid back into bed beside her, pulling the covers up over both of you. "Next time you get a cold, I’m making you call him," you said, nuzzling into her shoulder.

"Deal," she whispered, already halfway back to sleep. "Love you."

You froze for just a second. Then your smile bloomed, unstoppable. "Love you too, baby."

YOUR DAY had been a disaster from the second you stepped into work.

It started with someone taking your lunch from the communal fridge — not just any lunch, but the one Elliecooked and poured her time and heart into it, both of you knowing how bad she sucked in the kitchen. The one she’d tucked a dumb little sticky note into, just saying, 'Pasta tastes better when shared w/ me. But I hope this helps. Love you.'

It only spiraled from there. A last-minute meeting turned into your boss questioning your ideas like they were barely coherent. A coworker made a passive-aggressive comment that echoed in your mind hours after. Everything you touched felt off. Wrong. You kept fumbling. Kept overthinking. You felt raw by the time you finally made it home.

You dropped your bag at the door and kicked off your shoes with an exhale that sounded like a sob if anyone had been there to hear it. You started to cry not much later, leaning against the wall for a minute, trying to steady yourself. Trying to remember that tomorrow would be better. That it was just a bad day, not a bad life. But it was hard when everything felt like it had weighed on your back all day long.

It was when you already dercided to skip dinner and crawl into bed that you saw it.

Sitting right in the middle of your little kitchen table was a bouquet — chaotic and beautiful. Lilies, your favorite, some you’d told Ellie you liked months ago, others that looked like she probably just thought were 'cute as fuck.' A few petals had already fallen onto the wood.

Next to it, a folded piece of notebook paper. Torn from the corner of a page, slightly smudged, written in the messy scrawl you recognized instantly.

Hi baby,

Here’s something for you to come home to.

You make everything better. For me. Just by existing. Come over later. Or now. Or whenever. Just know that I love you.

Your El.

You reread it twice before your vision blurred with tears again. But this time they weren’t sad ones, though. Just overwhelming. Just the kind of tears that come from feeling seen, known, and loved. You didn’t even think to grab shoes. You ran barefoot down the hallway, heart pounding, letter clutched in your hand.

Ellie opened the door at the second knock. There was music playing faintly behind her — something soft, acoustic — and her mouth opened to say something, but it caught in her throat the second she saw your face. "Oh," she breathed.

You must’ve looked a mess — eyes red, lashes damp, a slight tremble still in your hands from the adrenaline rush of holding it in all day. You couldn’t even say anything. Just looked at her, your lower lip wavering.

And Ellie —God. Ellie stepped forward so fast, so instinctively, that the door swung all the way open behind her.

"Baby," she whispered, both hands coming up to cradle your cheeks. Her thumbs wiped at the tear tracks like they offended her. "Hey. No— come here. Come here."

You let her pull you in, your arms looping tight around her waist as she hugged you, hugged you, like she’d been waiting all day for this exact moment. Like you were something precious and fragile and hers. You buried your face in her neck. Her hoodie smelled like cedarwood and smoke. She smelled like home.

"I— I was gonna text," you mumbled, breath hitching. "But then I saw it and I wanted to say thank you, I just—"

"No, no," she whispered, stroking the back of your head. "You don’t need to say anything. You’re okay. You’re with me."

She guided you inside wordlessly, closed the door with her foot, then walked you backwards toward the couch, her arms never leaving you for a second. She sat first, tugging you gently onto her lap, wrapping herself around you like a human blanket. Her hand rubbed slow, grounding circles up and down your spine.

After a while, when your breathing evened out and your fists unclenched a little against her hoodie, she pressed a kiss to your temple and murmured, "Wanna talk about it?" You shook your head. "Okay." She paused. "Wanna sit in silence and just let me hold you for a while?"

You nodded into her collarbone. Her grip tightened, like she was the one that needed you close. "Done. It’s already happening. You're stuck here. Tough luck."

You huffed a tiny laugh, and she grinned against your skin, proud of herself for pulling it out of you. "I’m sorry," you murmured eventually, voice hoarse. "I feel ridiculous."

Ellie pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. Her expression was so soft, it made you want to cry all over again.

"Don’t you dare," she said. "Don’t you ever apologize for having a hard day. You’re allowed to feel like shit sometimes."

You looked down at your hands in your lap, still nestled in the folds of her hoodie. "I just… I feel like I give and give, and people still find ways to make me feel small. Like I’m not enough."

Ellie took your hands in hers. "You’re more than enough," she said seriously. "You’re everything." Your heart squeezed. "And you didn’t give too much today," she added. "They just didn’t know how to receive it. That’s not on you."

You blinked at her. "Since when did you get so wise?"

She smirked like she was already proud of her answer. "Since I fell head over heels for a girl who cries at love letters and runs barefoot down the hall to kiss me."

You smiled and leaned in, your nose brushing hers, your voice a whisper. "I just really needed to see you."

Ellie kissed you slow and gently. "I’m always right here," she said. "I will always be right here for you."

You ended up falling asleep there, curled together on the couch, her hand still laced in yours, feeling her soft heartbeat against your own.

YOU WOKE UP to the smell of cinnamon.

Still groggy, you stretched a little, blinking against the early light slipping through Ellie’s curtains. You reached out instinctively — but her side of the couch was empty. Something gentle hummed through the apartment. Music, faint and crackly from the little record player in the corner. Something older — Nancy Sinatra, maybe. And cinnamon. Definitely cinnamon.

You sat up, your body heavy with sleep, but your chest felt lighter. You walked around the apartment barefoot, wearing only one of her shirts, the hem brushing your thighs.

Ellie was in the kitchen.

Hair messy, tied back in a low bun. Oversized hoodie. Socks half on, half falling down. She had flour on her face — actual flour — and was bent over the stove, very seriously flipping something in a pan.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and smiled. "I feel like I’m interrupting something private here."

Ellie jumped and turned — her entire face lighting up when she saw you.

"Babe," she said, like she’d been waiting for you all morning. "I was trying to let you sleep. Did I wake you?"

"You made your whole apartment smell like cinnamon. I’d wake up even in a coma."

She grinned and held up the pan like a trophy. "Cinnamon pancakes. I found this recipe online — well, Jesse texted it to me. He said it’s foolproof, so if they’re bad, we blame him."

You laughed, walking toward her, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind as she focused on pouring syrup into a tiny saucepan. She leaned back into your chest instinctively, humming under her breath. You swayed with her for a moment.

"You’re ridiculous," you mumbled into her hoodie.

She turned her head slightly, brushing her nose against your temple. "Nah. You just had a shitty day yesterday. And I hate it when you look sad."

You pressed a soft kiss to her neck. "So you decided pancakes would cure me?"

"Did it work?"

You thought about it — how your chest felt less tight, how the anxious hum in your bones had quieted, and how safe she made you feel just by standing there, solid and sleepy in her kitchen, making you breakfast. "It’s definitely helping."

After pancakes (which were — surprisingly — very good, despite Ellie nearly burning the first one and dramatically mourning it like it was a fallen soldier), she told you the plan for the day: "There’s no plan."

You blinked at her from across the table, licking syrup off your thumb. "No plan?"

"Nope. None." She leaned back in her chair, arms behind her head, looking pleased. "You’re not lifting a finger today. Not a single one. I’m your butler. Your chauffeur. Your loyal steed."

You snorted. "My what?"

"I take my girlfriend duties very seriously."

She really meant it, too. She ran you a bath with the stupidly fancy bubble stuff she’d teased you about the week before but then bought anyway. She showered you with compliments and let you pick a movie, not complaining even if it was one she’d already seen.

After dinner, she was inside the kitchen again, preparing a french dessert you mentioned once and she just happened to have every single ingredient. So here you were, smiling at the dedication and effort Ellie put into making you happy. She turned, and caught you staring.

"What?" She asked, suspicious.

"Nothing." You replied, trying not to smile.

"No, no. I know that look. That’s the I’m-about-to-roast-you look."

You tilted your head. "I’m not—"

"You’re about to say something mean and deeply offensive. I can feel it."

"I was just thinking about how you hold a spatula like it’s a weapon. Like you’re about to interrogate it." You shrugged innocently.

She gasped, pointing you with the utensil. "You take that back. I cook with precision."

"You cook like someone who’s holding the last weapon in a boss fight."

Ellie narrowed her eyes and closed the distance between you in three quick steps. "You wanna say that again, sweetheart?"

You smirked. "Or what, you gonna arrest me with the spatula?"

She blinked once. Then, wordlessly, she grabbed you—hands at your waist, firm and sudden—and hoisted you off the stool like you weighed absolutely nothing.

"El—!" you yelped, laughing, squirming as she walked you the three steps to the counter.

"Say it again," she said, deadly serious, "and I swear I’ll put you in the sink."

You were still giggling when she deposited you on top of the kitchen counter, your legs dangling and hoodie riding up your thighs. She stepped between your knees, arms on either side of you. Your laughter softened into breathless smiles. Your cheeks hurt. Her eyes were so green up close, you could almost count every single freckle that embelished her visage.

"Not gonna lie," you murmured, "this is kinda hot."

Ellie raised a brow. "Me threatening you with domestic violence is hot?"

"Only when it ends like this."

She laughed and leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours. "You’re ridiculous," she whispered.

"You love it."

"Unfortunately, I do."

You kissed her, soft and lazy, her hands resting gently on your thighs now. When you pulled back, you ran your fingers over her jaw. "Thanks for today. For everything."

She shrugged, but her ears were already red. "Didn’t do that much."

"You spoiled me. You’re still spoiling me."

"Yeah, well, you deserve it."

You touched the tip of her nose with your finger. "You’re a sap."

She grinned. "And you’re lucky."

"I am," you whispered. "I really, really am."

The moment stretched, the kind of moment you wanted to live in forever. And then, "okay, but seriously,” you added, poking her side. "I’m never gonna forget the way you flipped that first pancake this morning. It flew."

She groaned and buried her face in your neck. "Don’t. Don’t bring that up. That pancake died tragically."

"It looked like a UFO. I thought it was gonna hit the ceiling—"

"You are banned. Banned from my kitchen."

You laughed and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, letting her hold you there, tucked against the warm crook of her neck, swaying slightly to the background hum of the record player. Her fingers tapped along your thigh to the beat, and for a while, you just breathed her in.

And when you finally curled up with her on the couch, full of tea and warm and soft all over, you rested your head on her shoulder and whispered, "You really went all out."

Ellie kissed the top of your head. "You’re allowed to have bad days," she said quietly. "But I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure the day after feels better. Always."

You looked up at her, your heart so full it ached. "Ellie."

"Hm?"

"You’re gonna make me cry again."

She smiled, leaned in, and kissed you softly. "Yeah, but like… the good kind this time."

You nodded, curling closer, letting the world outside dissolve. Wrapped in her arms, safe and held and spoiled absolutely rotten, you finally let yourself believe it — that no matter how rough things got out there, this would always be your soft place to land. You could definitely get used to this.

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[jobean12-blog]

Midnight Confessions

Light SPOILERS ahead!!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: A late night gives you the opportunity to flirt with Bucky and the next night he comes right back for more.

Author's Note: There are some Thunderbolts spoilers here- none really story related so much but more character driven. So reader BEWARE :D I had fun writing all the ridiculous dialogue in the beginning and it's a bit chaotic but I hope it makes you smile! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: fun and fluff, flirtiness, tension, sweetness

You set the timer and place it on the counter, leaning back with a sigh. While it seems everyone else in the tower is asleep, you’re as wide awake as the bustling city below. This is the second batch of cookies you’ve made this week, but no one seems to be complaining.

After contemplating something on the TV you decide instead to read, hoping it will make you sleepy.

No such luck and just as you’re starting the next chapter you see a dark shadow at the entrance of the kitchen, you’re body stiffening.

“It’s just me doll.”

At the sound of Bucky’s voice, you instantly relax.

“Jeez you’re quiet,” you whisper.

He chuckles lightly and steps into the kitchen. His hair is slightly mussed as if he’s been running a hand through it and his tee shirt clings to the broad lines of his chest and toned biceps. With a hard swallow you let your eyes drop lower, to the way his pants sit low on his waist but still hug his thighs.

“Can’t sleep?” you squeak out, dragging your gaze back to his face.

He shakes his head no and moves closer, revealing a surprise. The guinea pig Yelena rescued from the lab sits atop his left shoulder, tucked close to his neck and partially hidden by his hair.

You sit up with a gasp and rush over to him, cooing quietly and without a word plucking the piglet from his shoulder.

“What are you doing up?” you ask the guinea pig in a sweet voice.

“I probably should have let him sleep but as soon as I made noise he started squeakin’.”

You look up at Bucky and notice his soft expression as he watches you with the guinea pig.

“It’s a boy?” you ask.

“Actually, I don’t know,” he replies.

“Hmm,” you say as you pet it’s soft fur. “I bet it’s a girl.”

“That works too,” he smiles. “Are you making cookies?”

“I am…they should be out…,” and you walk over to the timer, “in three minutes.”

“Great doll. I could use a snack!” He slowly rubs his stomach as he stretches, revealing the dark trail of hair that disappears enticingly into his sweats.

The guinea pig squeaks and draws your attention away before he catches you staring.

“She needs a name,” you state as you cradle her in your arm.

Bucky is silent for a moment before he blurts out, “Cookie.”

“That’s cute,” you giggle, “but I think you’re just hungry.”

He doesn’t disagree and keeps thinking.

“She’s brown and white so…BACON!”

You stop petting the piglet and narrow your eyes at Bucky.

He holds his hands up in surrender, but you can see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as he tries to hold back a smile.

“Are you going to wash the dishes?”

Bob’s voice is so low you almost don’t hear it but Bucky spins around at the sound.

“Bob!” both you and Bucky exclaim.

“What’s going on in here?” Bob asks as he looks between you and Bucky.

“We can’t sleep, and I made cookies,” you explain.

“And we’re trying to give the guinea pig a name,” Bucky adds.

“Ok,” Bob says. “I’m going to wash the dishes.”

“Do you want help?” you ask him. “I can dry the bowls.”

“Sure,” Bob says.

You hand the guinea pig back to Bucky. “Don’t get comfy. I want her back when I’m done.”

“Anything you want doll,” he says with a wink.

“How about Piglet?” Bob chimes from the sink.

“Like in Winnie the Pooh?” you ask as you slide up next to him and take the first bowl to dry it.

“Yeah…she’s kinda tiny…,” Bob says.

“So, you think she’s a girl too!” you say happily. “Bucky was calling it a he.”

“Not because I don’t think it could be a girl…I just…said he first.”

“It’s a girl,” Yelena says as she walks in.

“See! I knew it!” you sing song.

“What is going on here?” Yelena asks.

“None of us could sleep,” Bob answers. “So, we’re making cookies, washing dishes and naming the guinea pig.”

“Are the cookies ready yet?” Yelena asks, eyeing the oven.

“Just about,” you answer.

“Bob suggested Piglet…but I like Bacon,” Bucky says to fill Yelena in.

“Of course you would say Bacon,” she tsks. “I like Piglet.”

“Do I smell cookies?”

Walker strides in and heads straight for the oven.

“HEY Walker,” you whisper shout. “They’ll be out in a minute.”

He stops and plops himself down on a stool at the island with a huff.

“Why didn’t anyone invite me to the party?” he says.

“Because you’re an asshole,” but you and Yelena chime simultaneously but not without a smile pulling at each of your mouths.

“Can I least have some cookies,” Walker asks.

“Of course,” you tell him.

“Why don’t you name the pig, Hamlet,” Walker adds.

Everyone is quiet for a minute and tries to hide their smiles. “Actually, that’s cute,” you say, “but we’ve decided it’s a girl so maybe something…more…girly.”

Walker rests his chin in his hands but remains silent.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Ava says, appearing from the other side of the wall.

Bob startles at the sink and Walker rolls his eyes.

“No one can sleep, we are about to eat cookies, and we need a name for our girl guinea pig,” Yelena sums up quickly before opening the oven just as the timer dings.

“Pipsqueak,” Ava says flatly.

Yelena smiles. “I like that. She does squeak…a lot.”

“But she’s brave,” Bob says. “She survived the lab. I wouldn’t call her a pipsqueak.”

“But Piglet is scared of everything isn’t he?” Bucky muses. “So that wouldn’t work either.”

“Oh,” Bob sighs. “Yeah, he is.”

“Still like Bacon,” Bucky mumbles to himself.

“WHO SAID BACON?” Alexei booms when he walks in. “We eat?”

Yelena hangs her head with a sigh and Ava rolls her eyes.

“No bacon,” Bucky says sadly. “But we have cookies.”

“Hm, that will do,” Alexei says as he walks over to Yelena and pulls out the hot tray with his hand.

“You should let them cool,” you say to Alexei as he goes to grab for one.

“No, no…I like them all gooey and melted and messy…” He pops half the cookie in his mouth and hums happily.

Bucky slides over; the guinea pig nestled in the crook of his metal arm as he grabs for a cookie.

Walker reaches over the island to grab his own.

“They’re still hot guys!” you scold but give up with a sigh when half the tray is gone in under a minute. “You better grab one,” you whisper to Bob.

He turns from the sink and wipes his hand, reaching for a cookie and placing it on a napkin near him. “I’ll let mine cool,” he says with a small smile.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence and lots of mumbled praises over the cookies, you ask, “so what are we naming the guinea pig?”

Alexei yells out, “ALEXEI!”

Everyone answers with a determined, “NO!”

Alexei deflates and takes another cookie.

“So far we ruled out all the suggestions,” you say, leaning back on the counter next to Bucky.

Without prompting he hands you the guinea pig. You gently hold her up and look her over.

“I have so many ideas but none of them seem to fit,” you huff.

“All mine are related to food,” Bucky shrugs.

“I still like Alexei,” Alexei grumbles.

“Hamlet isn’t girly enough,” Walker says.

“Piglet and Pipsqueak make her sound too timid,” Ava adds.

Finally, Yelena says, “what about Nat?”

All eyes turn to her, soft with unspoken words.

“That’s perfect,” you say quietly and everyone agrees.

Once the few remaining cookies are packed away and the kitchen is clean you walk over to Bucky who’s leaning against the wall, Nat once again cradled against his chest in the crook of his metal arm.

“She likes that spot,” you say quietly as you gently stroke her back.

“Yeah, maybe because it’s cool,” he says and then softly touches her nose as it twitches.

You watch him for a moment, so sweet and gentle with the little furball.

“You’re so cute,” you say softly.

“She is right,” Bucky agrees.

“She meant you super soldier,” Alexei chuckles from behind you. “Not pig.”

“She’s a guinea pig Dad,” Yelena dead pans.

Alexei waves his had dismissively. “All same.”

Your eyes meet Bucky’s, and you see the tops of his cheeks, just above all the dark stubble lining them, turn light pink.

“You meant little Nat right?” he asks.

“She definitely meant the guinea pig,” Walker says with a yawn as he walks by. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

Ava follows close behind him. “Me too. And she meant you Barnes.”

Alexei slaps Bucky hard on the back, jostling Nat in his arms and Bucky glares.

“Oh. Right, sorry,” Alexei mumbles then smiles wide. “She thinks you are cute.”

He walks away rubbing his stomach.

Only Yelena and Bob remain, Yelena with a smirk lifting her lips and Bob with wide eyes.

Your eyes stay on Bucky, and you lean in closer, still petting Nat. “No. I meant you. You’re really cute. Especially with her. It’s sweet.”

“She said he’s cute,” Bob whispers to Yelena who’s full on smiling now.

“Da,” Yelena nods, grabbing Bob’s arm to pull him down the hall.

“Does she like him?” Bob asks as he passes by you and Bucky.

Yelena laughs but doesn’t answer and keeps tugging him away.

The two of you are now alone and you watch Bucky’s gaze quickly drop to your lips before he says a quiet, “thanks.”

“Hope you can get some sleep,” you tell him then kiss his cheek. “Night.”

“Night, doll,” he whispers as he watches you walk to your room.

The next night when you’re still awake after midnight you head to the common room but when you don’t see a sign of anyone else you decide to go watch a movie until you fall asleep. The light knock on your door an hour later surprises you and when you open it to find Bucky on the other side you’re even more surprised.

“I didn’t wake you did I doll?” he asks in a rush.

“No, don’t worry. I was watching a movie.”

“I thought I saw light under the door so I figured you might still be up.”

“Did you want more cookies? The leftovers are in the cabinet.”

“Actually…Alexei ate them all. I checked…”

You snort laugh and grab Bucky’s hand, pulling him through the doorway.

“Of course he did,” you say as you plop down on the small couch.

Bucky follows and then stands there as if he’s unsure what to do next.

“You can sit,” you tell him.

He does.

“Are you watching The Goonies?”

“I am!” you say excitedly. “I’m so glad you’ve seen it.”

“Classic 80s.”

“Exactly,” you agree.

You settle back into the cushions and let your shoulder brush his. As the movie continues your body relaxes against him and he lifts his arm to rest it along the back of the couch. His fingers brush your shoulder and when he feels your skin pebble beneath his touch he does it again. Your breath catches in your throat and you audibly swallow.

The movie ends and you’re still pressed against him, his arm now circling your shoulders as his fingertips ghost over your skin.

“That’s one of my favorites,” you say and turn to meet his eyes.

“Mine too,” he whispers, curling his fingers around your arm so you turn your body into his.

His eyes wander over your face, their soft reverence only sharpened when they stop on your lips.

“Doll…I…”

Whatever he wants to say is lost in the moment and he presses his mouth to yours, softly at first, but when you slide your fingers into his hair and tug him closer, he hums low in his chest and deepens it, parting your lips.

His knuckles skim down your arm before splaying at your back and pulling you into his lap. His hand slips under your shirt, every caress of his fingertips slow and teasing as if he’s savoring every moment and committing it to memory. His kisses are sweet and languid and the hair lining his face scratches the soft column of your neck as his lips trail downward to your hammering pulse.

A deep and satisfied hum rumbles through his chest and you press yourself closer, feeling the hard lines of his muscle beneath his shirt.

“Bucky,” you whimper.

He lifts his head to stare at you, his breathing fast. His metal thumb lifts to trace your swollen bottom lip before he slides it behind your neck and brings your lips back to his, nibbling the same spot then soothing it with his tongue.

You moan into his mouth and the sound snaps what little control he’s holding on to and suddenly you’re flipped to your back, your wrists in his metal hand and pinned above your head. His eyes teasingly trail over your body, and you go pliant in his hold, your legs falling open as he settles between them.

He leans down, dipping his head to run his nose along your neck, breathing you in before his lips are on yours again.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, his hand releasing your wrists and sliding lower to stroke your curves. “I knew you would be.”

“You’ve thought about it?” you ask as you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, licking his lips. “I came over here with the intention to ask you out on a date…”

“Is this not…?”

He cuts you off. “This is exactly what I want…you’re what I want. I’m just…trying to be a gentleman.”

Your lips form an O shape, and he kisses you again.

“I’ll go on a date with you Bucky,” you murmur between kisses.

“Good, that’s good,” he says, his warm hands continuing their exploration of your body while his lips trail down your neck.

You arch into him and slide your hands from his hair down his back, scraping lightly with your nails.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

When his eyes lift to yours he wears a pained expression.

“A gentleman,” he repeats.

“Right. A date,” you say.

“Fuck,” he mutters again but doesn’t move an inch.

You stare at each other, the tension building in the small space between you before he dips his head and kisses you again. His lips find the spot just below your ear and he whispers, “if you don’t tell me to go now…”

“I don’t want you to go Bucky. I want you to stay. I want you.”