#i did not love having to carry them up 3 flight of stairs

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Perfect Gentleman

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Spencer is the perfect gentleman for you, in every way that counts.

Square Filled: spiderman kiss for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

It’s hard to find a good man these days. All of your ex-boyfriends had something wrong with them in one way, shape, or form. Either they always thought of themselves, always put you second, or were total douchebags and dicks. You almost swore off men completely until you met Dr. Spencer Reid.

He is the perfect gentleman. He is nothing like what you’ve experienced before. He always puts you first, always thinks of you, and never has made you feel less than not even once. He made you feel safe and that’s all you ever wanted in a man.

The weather is nice enough to allow you to walk to your favorite coffee place rather than drive there. The street isn't too busy with cars but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop exercising caution when walking on the sidewalk. Spencer is walking on the left side while you’re on the inside of the curb, and you look at him with a smile.

The sun hits his face just right, giving his flawless skin a slight shimmer. God, how did you ever get so lucky to land a man like him?

You look behind you to see the street empty and you smirk to yourself. You let go of Spencer’s hand and make it look like you’re fixing something in your hair when you slow down enough to fall behind, and you switch sides with him so that you're walking on the outer side of the sidewalk, closest to the street.

“Ha, ha, very funny. Get back over here,” Spencer chuckles.

“What? I want to walk on the left side this time.”

“No, you’re going to walk on the right side and let me protect you. Come on, I don’t want to have to throw you over my shoulder.”

“Tempting,” you giggle.

“What if someone wants to kidnap you? They have easy access to do it.”

“What if they decide to kidnap you?”

“A beanstalk like me? Nah, only the pretty girls like you. Come on, get over here.”

You smile and comply with his request, getting back on the right side of the sidewalk. Spencer takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

Even when he doesn’t try to be a gentleman, it comes out naturally. He is always looking for ways to make your life easier because he doesn’t want to see you overworking yourself. He loves you too much to see you put yourself through that.

Moving day is finally here. You and Spencer will be together without worrying about time or whether or not you have to go home for things. You two are moving into his apartment; nothing ever felt more right.

You got out your lease a month early and packed up all your shit, now all that’s left to do is take all the boxes out of the moving truck and put it inside his place.

He jogs down the stairs after bringing a box up and sees you struggling to pick up the box full of your books. You made it light enough for you to carry but not heavy enough to put it on a dolly. The only problem you’re having is picking it up off the ground.

“Nope, let me do this one.”

“Spencer, I am perfectly capable of doing this.”

“Darling, what if you trip and crack your head open on the stairs? No, I’m doing it.”

“Okay, what if you do that?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me,” He kisses you quickly and takes out his wallet. He takes out forty bucks and hands it over to you. “Call JJ and Penelope. I hear they have a new coffee shop in town.”

“No, I can’t leave you to do this by yourself.”

“I’ll be okay. I can call Derek if I need help. Go. Enjoy your afternoon.”

Again, how did you get so lucky to snag him?

Spencer always makes it his mission to make sure you’re comfortable no matter what you two go. It could be the briefing room or on the plane and he'd make sure you have a pillow for the flight or back support for your chair. It could also be him making sure your bath water is at the right temperature for a relaxing night in.

In order to catch the unsub red-handed, the team has to attend this elegant party that he is hosting. His MO is finding rich couples to lure upstairs where he’d drug both of them and strip them of all their valuables before killing them. Hotch theorizes that he’s here tonight about to do the same thing.

You and Spencer arrive at the party first, and you step out of the limo Hotch rented for you. If the unsub is going to think you’re rich, you need to arrive in a limo. However, you didn’t judge the weather properly. You thought it was going to be a lot warmer than it is. A shiver runs down your spine and Spencer notices goosebumps on your arm.

You’re wearing a royal purple strapless dress that goes down to your calves with a sequin lining on the outside. Spencer doesn’t think you can get even more beautiful than you are now.

“Here, take my jacket.”

He strips off his outer jacket before you have a chance to protest.

“No, Spencer, it’s okay. I’m fine,” you say even as he’s draping his jacket over your shoulders.

Damn, this jacket smells just like him and it’s warming your heart as much as it’s warming your skin.

“Take it. You’re cold.”

“Now you’ll be cold.”

“Don’t worry about me. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

It’s the way he said it that makes you want to cry out of pure happiness. He makes you so happy that sometimes, he feels like a dream.

One of Spencer’s favorite games is finding new ways to kiss you. He loves the traditional kiss but also loves Eskimo kisses, butterfly kisses, palm kisses, neck kisses, and your personal favorite, Spider-Man kisses. He never tells you when he’s going to do them because he loves seeing the blush on your cheeks whenever he pulls away from you.

“I know Hotch says he wants us to come up with a game plan on how to catch the unsub, but I think our resources are better spent finding his next victim. If we can pinpoint the kind of women he likes to target, we can be better prepared for when he strikes next.”

You and JJ are trying to come up with a way to stop this sunubs before he hurts any more people ad she is agreeing with your plan a lot more than Hotch’s. He’ll understand why you had to go this way once you catch the unsub.

“If this doesn’t work, I already have Morgan and Prentiss working on Hotch’s plan.”

“Thank you,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “Now, how should we go about this?”

Spencer walks into the bullpen with two cups of coffee when he sees the worry lines on your forehead. Hotch has been showing down on you recently so you’re just trying to do your best not to piss him off more than you already have. He sets both coffees on his desk and walks over to yours without letting you know he’s there.

When he gets to you, he gently grabs your hair and pulls your head back to kiss you Spider-Man style. The tension from your shoulders immediately dissipates and all that you can think of is Spencer. He knows you and JJ are working hard so he keeps the kiss short and sweet but nothing less than passionate.

When he pulls away, he sees the slight blush on your cheeks that makes him smile.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you, too.”

Spencer always had your well-being in mind both physically and mentally. It doesn’t matter where you are or if you’re without him. He will make sure that you’re safe at all times because he knows the worst thing can happen in the blink of an eye.

You: I’m getting gas. Be home shortly.

You’re not even out of the car when you get a reply back.

Spencer: DON’T MOVE. I’LL BE RIGHT THERE.

At first, you’re confused as to why he’s coming down here when you’re almost home. Maybe he has something to give you and can’t wait? Did he forget something and need your car to go get it? Whatever the reason, you can’t sit at this gas station all day and wait for him to show up. There are people waiting to use the pump.

You leave your car and put in your card to pay for it when Spencer’s car practically comes speeding into the gas station. He parks off to the side, gets out, and jogs over to you.

“Did you speed all the way over here?”

“Get in the car. I’ll do this.”

He hates you already put your card in, but he’ll send you money for however much the gas is.

“What are you doing?”

“Pouring my girl’s gas for her. This thing is filthy and you can get sick. Or you can fall victim to a robbery. Or someone can kidnap you. Just sit back and let me do my job.”

He kisses you and takes the pump out of the slot.

“You drove ten miles from our warm apartment just to pump my gas for me?”

“Yes. Get in the car.”

You’d have melted into a puddle if it weren't so damn cold outside.

Spencer never once puts himself first because, to him, you’re his entire world. He takes care of what he loves and that would be solely you.

Derek had invited you two to a dinner party he and Savannah are hosting at their house along with JJ and Will and Kevin and Penelope. It’s a couples night which is why Emily wasn’t invited. Though, you did promise her a girls’ night tomorrow. She preferred to stay in anyway, so she’s not too upset over not being invited.

Spencer arrives at Derek’s house and turns off the car after parking it. You unbuckle your seatbelt and grip the door handle to get out when Spencer shouts at you.

“Wait!” You jump in surprise and watch as he gets out and rushes over to your side of the car. He fixes his tie in the reflection of the car’s window before opening your door for you. “M’lady.”

“Why thank you, kind sir,” you grin and grab his outstretched hand. He helps you out of the car and closes the door behind you. “Are you going to do this every time we go somewhere?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Years of broken boyfriends have wired your brain to think this behavior is weird. However, Spencer is starting to fix that. “Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning?”

“Every day,” you smile.

“Good. I don’t want you to forget it.”

How could you when you have a man like Spencer Reid?

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[nats-firefly]

secret hobbies

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: Your strong muscular girlfriend shows you one of her lesser known hobbies.

warnings: daddy kink, beefy!nat, choking very briefly, strap on use (r receiving), teasing, fingering (r receiving), smut 18+ only

a/n: once again a repost from my old blog (twilight-99-tm), if you have any other ones you's like me to repost, let me know <3

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 2.5k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

divider source

Natasha’s face snuggled deeper into the crook of your neck while the two of you laid on the couch. Nat was trying to take a nap, arms wrapped around your body with her slow, even breaths tickling your neck while you scrolled through your phone, soft tiktok audios filling the space of her bedroom. 

One of your hands stroked Natasha’s hair while the other tapped your screen, the contents on the device pulling the other woman’s attention. That’s where you stayed for a while, Natasha’s eyes fluttering closed every now and then, your shared laughter occasionally filling the room.

The next tiktok that played was of someone making pottery, spinning the clay as if it was nothing. Your eyes sparkled, letting the video loop over and over again. Natasha smirked, looking up at you to find your enamored expression.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” You said, pausing the tiktok and looking down at the redhead smirking up at you. “Have you ever made pottery?”

“Hmm,” She hummed, before leaving a chaste kiss to your neck and sitting up, strong thighs on either side of your hips as she took your hands into hers. “Come with me.”

She stood up, tugging your hand when you refused to get up. “But baby, we were so comfy.”

“C’mon,” She said, easily pulling you up onto your feet, arms flexing with her movement. “You’re gonna like this.”

You leaned your chin up, ever so slightly puckering your lips in protest. She chuckled and leaned down, pressing her lips against yours. You kissed her back, smiling against her lips as you wrapped your hands around her neck. Her arms made their way around your waist and down to your thighs, and before you knew it, you were being carried down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” You asked, not recognizing this part of the compound.

“You’ll see,” She said, smiling lazily as she walked down a flight of stairs. She put you down in front of two wooden doors, before scanning her thumbprint to unlock them. 

Your jaw dropped when you walked inside, floor to ceiling shelves filled with pottery or bags of clay. There was a large window on one side of the room, and right in front of it a pottery wheel with a stool. You walked further inside, Natasha following behind you holding your hand. 

“Is this,” You took in your space one more time, turning around to face your girlfriend. “Your art studio?”

Natasha almost blushed. She’d never brought anyone else here. The only person that knew about this was Tony and even he was sworn to secrecy. She nodded, pulling you closer to her and hiding her face in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around her as you cooed, burying your hands in her hair. 

“Big, bad, Natasha Romanoff, likes making pottery,” You said, swaying the two of you as you took in more of the space. Every corner screamed Natasha, from the forgotten coffee cups on the counter, to the pictures of you on the desk off to the side, and the small radio in the corner. “It’s cute.”

“Don’t make fun,” She mumbled. “It’s fun, and relaxing.”

“I wasn’t making fun, baby,” You said, bringing her face out from your neck so you could look her in the eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

She smiled as she looked at you, leaning forward to meet your lips once again. You gasped before she could pull away. “Did you make that pot you gave me the cactus in?”

The grin spreading over her face said it all, and you don’t think you’ve ever been more in love than right now. You pulled away from her, walking over to the pottery wheel and looking around the room. 

“So,” Your fingers trailed over the top, sheepishly looking over at Natasha. “Are you gonna show me how to do it?”

“Do you want to?” She asked, excited.

“Do I want my hot strong girlfriend to show me how to throw pottery? Uhh, let me think about it.”

“You’re a dork,” She said, beckoning you to follow her. 

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” She leaned down to kiss you quickly before pulling an apron down from the hook. She draped it over your head before you turned around, her lips meeting the back of your shoulder as she tied it around your waist. 

Natasha put her own apron on before moving to cut a large chunk of clay from a block, telling you to go sit by the pottery wheel. Your eyes followed the way her arms moved as she handled the chunk, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip when she threw it harshly onto the wheel in front of you. Thank God for muscle tanks.

She brought a bowl of water and a sponge closer before approaching you, asking for your hand. You looked up at her, very obviously trailing your eyes up her body. The apron tied snugly around her waist only accentuated her muscles and if you had a little less self-control you’d be drooling. 

“I thought you wanted me to show you how to do it,” She said, taking your hand when you didn’t react. You let her pull you up, clearing your mind of the filthy thoughts your brain had come up with. She sat on the stool you had just stood up from. “Come sit on my lap, princess.”

You pursed your lips, letting her pull you into her. You made yourself comfortable atop her toned thighs, her breath against the back of your neck sending a small shiver you felt down to your core. You closed your eyes, your breath catching in your throat as her lips connect with where your neck meets your shoulder. You lean back into her as she runs her hands down your arms, taking your hands in hers. 

“Let’s start,” She mumbled into your skin, making you turn your attention back to the task at hand. Her hands almost completely covered yours as she placed them on the piece of clay. Natasha smirked as she watched your face, she could clearly tell your mind was elsewhere, exactly where she wanted it. “I’m gonna start spinning the wheel.”

Her thigh flexed under you as she pressed down the pedal, your own thighs clenching at the movement. “Go ahead, baby, try to start shaping it.”

Natasha pressed against you, it snapped you out of your train of thought, making you focus back on your hands. Natasha placed her hands on your hips, holding them against her as she watched you try to shape the clay. You grunted, the material feeling too hard and dry against your hands to make any progress.

“Baby, it’s too hard,” You whined, slumping back into her. You looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, if only she could move those hands further down. Natasha pushed you forward, straightening you up. She placed your hands back on the clay, leaning over and taking a sponge from a bowl of water. You felt her thigh tense again and had to suppress a moan.

“You have to get it nice and wet, sweetheart,” The cool water dripped down the clay and mixed with your fingers, immediately making it easier to shape. Natasha licked her lips before leaving a trail of wet kisses up your neck to the corner of your jaw. “Look at that, your hands look so good working on this.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, her lips connecting back to your skin. You shuddered, struggling to maintain the shape you were molding. “I know where they could look better.”

One subtle shift of her hips and you felt it. Natasha smirked against your neck when you stiffened, making the semi-shaped blob turn back into an unrecognizable shape once again. Natasha tsked, taking your chin softly between her fingertips and making you focus back down on what you were doing. “Eyes on your work, princess.”

You’re not sure if it was the way her voice went down or the rasp that suddenly became apparent, you just couldn’t help the moan that erupted from your throat. “Daddy…”

Her hand trailed down your neck, fingers subtly wrapping around your neck before pressing briefly. You gulped, suddenly becoming aware of the increasing wetness between your thighs as you clenched them together. Natasha hummed against you, sucking a mark onto the skin on your neck as her hands roamed down your body. 

“C’mon, detka,” She mumbled, hands curling around your thighs, and spreading them apart just enough so she could idly run her fingertips up and down your inner thigh. “I don’t wanna have to get my hands dirty, I’d much rather have them right here instead.”

She slid her fingers down to your core, pressing down against it over your clothes. You whined, pushing and grinding back against her. Your brain was becoming overwhelmed with the feeling of her against you, not wanting to focus on anything but that. “B-but, I-”

“Shh,” She shushed you, her fingers starting a slow movement sliding up and down. You have never hated the two layers of clothing separating her fingers and your skin more. You felt her arms flex around you as she pulled your hips back against her. “But what baby? Can’t think with Daddy’s hands all over you?”

“I- Pleas-” You stuttered, struggling to come up with words as you pathetically rocked against the redhead’s hand. You pulled back from the wheel, fully leaning against Natasha for support. This time, she didn’t protest, giving in to what you wanted in favor of all the pretty noises you were making for her. You needed to do the one thing you knew would give her no choice but to take you right there and then. “Please Daddy, I need you to fuck me.”

By the way her hands stiffened against you, you knew you played your cards right. Natasha is always one to tell you how much she likes it when you use your words. She practically stood up with you, turning you around and pulling your apron’s string behind your back. She slid it over your head before roughly slamming you against her workbench. 

Her lips slammed against yours, her tongue immediately colliding with yours between moans and whines. Natasha slid her hands down to your hips and easily lifted you onto the tabletop. Your legs parted on instinct, allowing the older woman to stand right between them. Her fingers easily undid the button of your pants and pulled down the zipper, giving her enough space to slide her hand into your pants and feel how you’d already ruined your underwear. 

“This all for me, princess?” She asked, smirking against your lips. You whined in response, crossing your hands behind her head and trying to pull her closer. “Nuh-uh keep those hands right there, let Daddy do the work.”

Your brain practically melted as she wrapped one arm around your body, easily lifting you up so she could pull your pants and underwear down in one go. Her fingers easily met your core once again, coating themselves in your wetness as you moaned against her lips.

“Please, Daddy,” You whined, rocking your hips forward so you were almost grinding against her. “I need you, please.”

“Patience, my love,” She said, easily pushing two fingers past your entrance. You gasped at the intrusion, legs clenching around her arm as she moved her fingers inside you. Her lips met your neck again, leaving marks in their wake as they kissed down to the collar of your shirt. You whined, clenching around her fingers as she reached the perfect spot inside you.

You tried pushing Natasha closer to you by bringing your crossed wrists closer to your body. Natasha smirked, leaning in just enough to tease you, eyes glued to your face. Your eyes were screwed shut in pleasure, lips parted and waiting for Natasha’s. She hovered her lips right above yours, breaths mingling in the small space separating them. She loved being this close to you, she loved knowing how good she was making you feel.

“Nat-Natasha,” You whined, clenching around her fingers. She knew you were close, but she had to drag it out longer, seeing how much you could take. 

“That’s not my name,” She corrected, curling her fingers in the way she knew made your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Daddy, please,” Your voice came out unsteady as you tried to hold yourself back. “I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Not yet sweetheart,” She said, withdrawing her fingers. Tears almost rolled down your cheeks at the loss of contact, your core yearning for sweet release. “I want you to cum on my cock.”

Natasha leaned back and slid her pants down enough so she could take out the strap, your core tightening at the mere sight of it. You reached forward, taking a handful of Natasha’s shirt and pulling her into you. You kissed messily, trying to feel as much of the other as possible. 

The tip of the strap nudged your entrance, making your hips shift closer to the edge of the table. Natasha broke the kiss, just long enough to slide the large toy into your cunt. You moaned against Natasha as you bottomed out, the toy easily sliding in with your arousal alone. The redhead grunted as she began to fuck into you. The force made you support your weight on your hands behind you, your ankles locking behind Natasha. 

Your thighs clenched around Natasha’s body as she brought you closer and closer to the edge. The mumbles leaving your lips only spurring her on more. She looked at your face contorting in pleasure before trailing her lips down your jaw and onto your neck. Her hand moved from holding your hip to rest on your front, thumb rubbing against your clit. 

“You close, baby?” She asked, baby hairs sticking to her face as she continued thrusting into you. You couldn’t do anything other than nod, sloppily trying to move your hips in sync with hers. Natasha paused, pulling out before quickly and roughly flipping you onto your stomach on the table and sliding the strap back in. You arched your back in pleasure, reaching up and gripping the other edge of the table. Natasha held your hips, the sounds of your drenched pussy filling the room. “Cum for me, princess.”

You didn’t need any more than that to send you over the edge. Your body shook as the intense orgasm washed over you. Natasha slowed her thrusts, letting you ride out your orgasm as she watched you twitch under her. She slowly slid the toy out from your pussy when she saw your grip let up on the other side of the table, carefully flipping you around once again. You weakly reached up, wanting Natasha closer to you but too weak to sit up yourself.

“Fuck, Nat,” You mumbled, thighs instinctively twitching when the strap nudged your entrance when she came closer. 

Natasha’s lips moved softly against yours, her arms holding you against her as you lazily kissed her back. Her hands slid down to cup your ass, enjoying the way you whined softly against her. The two of you shared a blissful moment enjoying each other's closeness before she pulled away. 

“Do you have any other secret hobbies I should know about?”

[grimace-writes]

New Kid in Town *.•.*•

No.1

GN!Reader x Task Force 141 (feat. Alejandro + Roldolfo)

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

Summary: Reader’s first day on base meeting the team.

Word count: 1670

(3rd Person POV | They/Them so anyone can read :) | Early to Mid Twenties)

Mentions of Anxiety/Panic Attack.

-——————⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚°˖✧˚ʚ🦋ɞ˚✧˖° ˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ˚｡⋆——————-

“Just remember to give it your all, kiddo! They’ll love you”

The words of their mentor ran through their mind as the plane landed on the strip, the rattling of the cabin alerting them of their arrival. It felt like dumb luck that they were chosen as a new addition for Task Force 141, hand selected by Captain John Price himself. Being a military brat meant they were basically trained from birth for active duty, {Y/N}’s skills were highly respected by their superiors (no matter how much they had their own doubts).

Sun rays filled {Y/N}’s eyes as they used their free hand to shade their face enough to make the descent down the stairs safer. There waited for them was a young man with dark skin around his late-twenties next to Capt. Price, {Y/N} assumed the man was one of his new teammates.

“Greeting {C/N}. Glad to see you again, mate. I hope the flight here didn’t treat ya too badly..” Price shook their hand with a warm smile on his lips, he gestured to his left toward the other male “..Meet Sergeant Kyle Garrick.. Code name Gaz. He’ll be acting as your guide around the base as I’m busy with a few meetings I have today. I was hoping to show you around myself, but it couldn’t be helped. Speaking of which, I’m a tad late..See ya at lunch” The older male sighed giving {Y/N}’s shoulder a welcoming squeeze as he gave Gaz a wink before leaving the two of them.

Y/N turned their attention to the slightly taller male for further instruction, they were able to take a better look at him. He was so youthful and frankly handsome, his light facial hair outlined his jaw nicely, his smile caused their chest to feel warmer. Gaz stood with confidence as he held his hand out to {Y/N} “Sup, like the cap said, I’m Gaz.”

‘This might not actually be so bad..’

They took Gaz’s hand in a firm handshake, as they did so Gaz pulled them into a bro-hug, his smile never breaking. “It’s great to finally have someone on the team closer in age. Let’s start this tour with your room, so you don’t have to lug that around the whole time.” Gaz let {Y/N} go walking towards the hanger, leaving them a little dumbfounded by the sudden physical contact.

‘Mmmm..Not what I was expecting, Gaz is a hugger, noted. I wonder if the others will be the same..’ They thought to themselves slinging their duffle bag over their shoulder, taking long strides to catch up with their interesting colleague.

Gaz filled the silence between them with small details of the base, from passing the training halls to the recreation area as they made the long way to the barracks (basically showing them everything). {Y/N} started to feel a slight annoyance start to build in their mind as they recalled what Gaz said earlier, it seemed they ended up just carrying their stuff the whole way. The feeling spiked as the two finally made it to their destination and Gaz had a cheeky smirk on his lip. He leaned against the frame of {Y/N}’s new room, luckily for them the base had adequate space for each member of 141 to have private quarters.

{Y/N} smacked their lips towards Gaz causing the male to snort in response, they placed their hand on that door handle but stopped themselves before proceeding. “Is it unlocked?” They asked, not wanting to feed into Gaz’s mischief further, all they wanted was to unpack and take a few minutes to settle in.

“Yeah, don’t worry I’m not gonna make you run into the door. Plus the key should be inside, along with a small map of the base just in case. Though I’m an awesome tour guide so I doubt you’ll be needing it.” Gaz boasted himself, this time it was {Y/N} who scoffed.

“Absolutely, one hundred percent..” They said, opening the door to the 140 square foot room, which was furnished with a plain colored full sized bed, a large wardrobe, and a basic oak desk and matching desk chair. {Y/N} placed the duffle bag on the bed then laced their fingers together to quickly stretch and crack them. They hummed at the satisfying feeling it gave as he turned back to Gaz who was now standing in the doorway.

“Since I showed you everything, I’m gonna leave you to hang out and settle in before lunch time. I’ll be in the training hall if you need anything or get bored. See you later, {C/N}” He said, closing the door for them with a small wave, which they returned.

They waited a few minutes before they let out the deep sigh they didn’t realize they were holding in. Pushing the bag to the end of the end, {Y/N} crawled onto to bed, creaking under their weight. They wrapped their arms around their head, moving their legs close to their chest as they hid into themselves. From learning of their new post to the moment they stepped foot on base, the situation hadn’t set in until now.

The intense sound of their heartbeat filled the negative space, minutes felt like hours whilst they laid curled into themselves. They meekly hummed a snippet of a song their Mother would sing when {Y/N} would have episodes like this at home. It had been a while since they felt so frightened by a decision, they always went from one mission to another like they were ordered to do. The feeling of making their own decision on their career was so freeing yet so overwhelming, it made their head spin and their heart sink. {Y/N} took a couple deep breaths then stretched their limbs out, sitting up on their bed to check the time. ‘Only twenty minutes..That’s good, I didn’t waste too much time.’

They moved off the bed over to the desk, picking up the simple key ring with a single key on it that laid on a map of the base. They ran their thumb over the key, the cool metal feeling nice on their warm skin, before placing it back on the desk. They thought the best next course of action was to unpack, change into their new uniform, then head to meet up with the rest of their team for lunch. It took them only 30 minutes to finish their tasks before they made their way out of their room, locking the door behind them as they went. {Y/N} had the map folded in their pocket just in case, but Gaz in fact was a good tour guide, so getting to their destination was easy.

The sound of a few men laughing echoed through the hallway leading to the entrance of the mess hall, which was more like a mini makeshift dining and recreation room with a decent sized kitchen area. The team had strong feelings their bond would grow stronger if they made homemade meals together. As {Y/N} entered the room, they saw Price by the stove with a gentle looking Hispanic man chopping vegetables nearby. Sitting at the table was Gaz, along with another Hispanic man widely smiling, a loud laughing Scottish Man, and..{Y/N} almost couldn’t believe their eyes as the Ghost sat with the rest of his teammates. Alongside Capt.Price, his reputation was well known, even his mentor had a run in with Ghost.

Gaz was the first one to acknowledge {Y/N}’s presence in the room as he waved his hand high, greeting them in a chipper tone. “Hey {C/N}. Glad to see you decided to join us, time to meet the rest of the gang.” {Y/N} took a seat next to the excited male, looking at each person as they were introduced. “First off, we have Sergeant John Mactavish call him Soap..” Said male flashed {Y/N} a flirtatious smile with a wink. “..Then, Colonel Alejandro Vargas of the Mexican Special Forces," Alejandro raised his glass as a welcoming gesture. "As well as his second in command Sergeant Major Roldolfo Parra or Rudy. He’s the one next to Price over there.”

Rudy turned to the table after hearing his name to wave at {Y/N}, his smile was as warm and welcoming at Price’s was. Their attention turned to the final member to be introduced, his gaze intense making them feel a bit nervous. “Last but not least, we have Lieutenant Simon Riley better known as Ghost.” The lieutenant gave his new teammate a nod for a reply, turning his gaze to a different part of the room. “Don’t take his cold shoulder personally, the LT is a big softie when you get to know him.” Soap chimed in causing Gaz and Ale to snicker.

“Either way it’s nice to meet you all. I’m Sergeant {F/N L/N], my alias is {C/N}. I look forward to working with you all.” They spoke confidently as they sat back in their chair, feeling more part of the group as they chatted. They were asked about little things like where they were from and their experiences to their hobbies and interests. It was mainly Gaz, Soap, and Ale who asked, Ghost just sat there listening intently locking away their answers for future use.

The conversation ended when Price and Rudy placed the components of their shared meal onto the table. Soap and Gaz were instructed to grab plates and utensils as {Y/N}, Ghost, and Ale took turns washing their hands. During their chat it was explained how chores and meal prep were divided equally amongst them, with {Y/N} now here they would have to do some adjustments. Any anxiety or doubts about joining were starting to melt away as they ate and laughed amongst their new colleagues.

‘This really isn’t gonna be so bad..’

•*.•*~To Be Continued~*•.*•

-——————⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚°˖✧˚ʚ🦋ɞ˚✧˖° ˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ˚｡⋆——————-

Author Note: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story. Let me know what you think, Love Love~ 💕💕

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

[lesbianloml]

Praise and Punishments

Type of piece(s): imagine, oneshot, drabble, series

Type(s) of writing: smut, angst, fluff, dark

Pairing(s): 1980s!dom!stepmom!!wanda x 19 year old!sub!fem!reader

Warning(s): praise kink, praise kink, praise kink, oral (w receiving), wanda is a married woman, stepmom wanda, mommy kink, strap-on sex (r receiving), being on the phone while having sex, slight size kink, bulge kink, age gap (w is 33, r is 19), mentions of stalking

Summary: Reader has a huge praise kink. Her stepmom finds out and decides to use it to her advantage.

A/N: hope you like it. I got a little carried away. GIF of wanda below + me = 😩😵

"Hi, kitten! How was your day at school?" Your stepmother, Wanda, asks you with a smile. "Oh it was good! I got a 100% on my English test today." "Good girl!" As Wanda praised you, she looked at you and noticed you blushing. Hmm. She'll have to look into that. Your dad came thumping down the stairs, duffel bag and briefcase in hand. Your dad was going on a trip to Mexico for a month due to business issues.

He wanted to take you and Wanda but because you had school, you had to stay home. So Wanda said she'd stay with you while your dad was gone. And seeing as you were an only child, that meant it would be just you and Wanda in the house. For a month. Alone. Oh shit. "Hey, hun." Your dad said to Wanda, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "How was school, Y/N?" "Oh it was school, y'know?" "Yeah. But I gotta go or I'll miss my flight." He walked over to you and gave you a quick hug. "Bye, Y/N. Love you." "Love you too, dad." "Bye, sweetheart. I'll call you when I land." He gave Wanda another kiss on the lips and walked out the door.

"Hey, Wanda. I'm gonna go over to my friend Stephanie's house for a sleepover." "Well, don't you want to be here when your dad calls in a few hours?" "Oh, I'll just have him call me." As you walk up the stairs to grab your backpack, you hear Wanda say, "no." "No what?" "No you are not going to your friends house right now. You will wait for your father's phone call." "But Wanda! That's gonna be 3 hours!" "You will wait or I will punish you severely." You groaned and walked upstairs, locking yourself in your room.

2 1/2 hours later

Y'know what. She can't tell you what to do. She isn't your mother. Your mother's dead but she'd let you sleep over at Steph's house. So, you grabbed your backpack and climbed out your window. As you shimmied down the drain pipe, you saw Wanda. In her flower garden. Staring right at you. Shit. Oh shit. Run. You ran as fast as you could but red tendrils of magic surrounded you, bringing you to Wanda. "Wanda! Fancy seeing you here. I was just going to the store! For snacks." "Inside. Now." She commanded, her eyes flashing red. You wouldn't admit it, but you were terrified. Would she ground you? Worse, would she tell your dad?

Wanda guided (controlled) you to the living room. Wanda closed and locked the door and she leaned against it. "You tried to go to the sleepover after I told you not to." "No. I wasn't. I-" She cut you off with a look. "So now you will make it up to Mommy. Kneel." You stood in shock. "I- What?" "You have 5 seconds or your punishment will be worse. Sneaking out is what bad girls would do. Don't you want to show Mommy that you can be good again? Be Mommy's good girl again?"

Your entire body was on fire. The praise was killing you. So you walked over to Wanda and kneeled at her feet. "That's my good girl. Now, unbutton my pants." You did as she said. "Good job. Pull my pants and panties down, sweet girl." As you pulled them down, you saw she was practically dripping. "Did I do this to you?" You whispered, running your finger through her wet folds." She ignored you and said, "Stick out your tongue and let Mommy use you." "Yes Mommy." You said, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth.

You sat there, tongue out, kneeling at Wanda's feet like a good slut for you don't know how long. All you knew is that Wanda was running her pussy on your face and tongue so hard, you were sure she was peeling off skin, she had come three times, and you were dripping on the floor. As Wanda came for the fourth time with a scream of your name, she looked at you, kneeling at her feet. She knew you had to be sore and dripping but you hadn't said a word. "You've been such a good girl for Mommy. I think you deserve a reward." She looked at you as she turned, commanding, "stay." As she unlocked the door and walked upstairs.

She came back down with her biggest strap. This was still sort of a punishment after all. Shockingly, she read your mind and didn't hear any resistance. You were far into sub space. "Stand up, little one." You did as she said, standing up. I think you were both just now realizing how much shorter than her you are. You looked up at her as Wanda knelt down and tore your shirt off. She unclipped your bra, taking her precious time. She pulled your pants and panties down and helped you kick them off. Then she took off her shirt and bra. You were standing naked in front of her and all you could think was, "I understand why dad married her." But even as you thought that, you didn't care that she was dad's wife. You were too far gone with all the praise she was giving you and the way she used you.

"Go lay on the couch." Wanda commanded. You did so, no question. "So compliant. So far gone." Wanda said, looking in your mind and not seeing so much of a thought except for her, your Mommy. You were already soaked so Wanda knew she would just slip in. Wanda put the strap on and straddled your hips. She used her powers to lock your hands above your head. But right as she began to sink down, the phone rang. And Wanda had an idea. She let your hands go. "Answer it baby." She knew who it was. It was your father. You looked at her in panic. "Now, or you don't come." You picked the phone up from the receiver.

"Hi, dad! How was the flight?" You and your father talked for a minute until finally, Wanda got impatient. So she poked the head of her cock through your flared hole, still dripping wet. And she shoved into you entirely, to the hilt of her cock. Your mouth dropped open and you choked on a moan. "Y/N are you ok?" "Yeah dad. Can I call you back? I'm getting cramps and I need a heating pad." "Sure. Where's Wanda?" "She's getting all wet um, showering! Showering! I'll have her call you back! Love you, bye!" You put the phone back in the receiver as Wanda started to thrust in and out of your tight hole, groaning as you moaned.

She sped up and before long, she was going almost inhumanely fast. "Mommy! Slow down please!" She just went even faster as you clutched onto anything you could reach. Gripping her shoulders, scratching her back, holding onto the couch cushions for dear life as you breasts shook. She was thrusting into you so hard, with each thrust, your head was hitting the armrest. "Such a good girl for me. Letting me slut her out. Good job, milking my cock, baby." And she kept going until she came. Now, mind you Wanda had just came four times and it took awhile for her to come again. By the time Wanda was finally filling you up with her come, you had lost count of how many times you came. When Wanda pulled out, her cock was covered in your juices and there was a puddle underneath you of both of your orgasms mixed together, dripping out of you. "You're mine. You hear me, Y/N? I knew you were planning on fucking that Stephanie girl. But you're mine and only mine."

"But what about dad?" You asked as she went to the bathroom to run a bath for you. "Oh, don't worry about him. You wanna know the truth?" She questioned you, picking you up bridal style and setting you down in the bath. "I only married him for you. I had been watching you for so long. You were perfect. Beautiful, kind, and a perfect little submissive in need of a Mommy. But it would seem strange if a woman in her thirties walked up to a teenage girl and asked her out. So I took it into my own hands to get you the Mommy you needed. I never even fucked your dad, detka. I was too in love with you. And turns out, I was right. You are a perfect good little girl. And now you have a Mommy. So when your father gets back, you and Mommy will be gone and no one will ever find us."

"I love you, Mommy." "And I love you my sweet little girl. You're mine. Forever."

Please, request some ideas you have! I would love to do some! Reblogs are much appreciated because it helps me spread some of my work around. Likes and comments are appreciated too! Thanks for reading.

[fayes-fics]

Overprotective

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony gets overprotective when there is an injury

Warnings: None... just fluffy fluff.

Word Count: 1.5k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill (request: could you do a fluffy one-shot where the reader is injured in a minor way and benedict or Anthony takes care of her?). I went with Anthony for this one. I hope you enjoy Nonny, and sorry it took so long to respond <3 Many thanks as ever to my lovely beta @makaylan :)

The gardens of Aubrey Hall are so beautiful you take every opportunity to spend time in them during your stay. It’s early on a warm sunny morning, and you are delighting in the thick borders of lilacs and roses, breathing deep to enjoy the floral scents, picking your way through the winding flagstone paths, the wondrous riots of colour.

You stoop to smell a beautiful yellow rose when you hear a thunder of hooves and the call of a masculine voice.

“Woahh, boy,” he signals to his horse as they come to a stop.

There he is. The viscount, Anthony Bridgerton. Owner of this magnificent estate. You cannot help but stare at his handsome face, jaw thrown into relief by the sharp angle of the morning sun. You find yourself drawn towards the sight, akin to a moth to a flame. Not paying attention to where you are walking, you don’t even see the small flight of steps at the gentle elevation change in the garden.

Before you have your bearings, you feel a pain bloom in your ankle, and the next thing you know, you are staring at fluffy clouds passing over an azure sky. It appears you have fallen down the steps and landed rather inelegantly in the soft grass beside. 

Hoping the embarrassing moment has not been seen, the bright sunlight is suddenly shaded by the looming concerned expression of the aforementioned Viscount. No such luck.

“Miss y/l/n!” His voice exclaims, filled with apprehension, “are you quite alright? Did you hit your head? Can you hear me?”

“I am fine, my lord,” you assure, going to sit up.

“No, no!” he argues, “do not sit up! You could be injured. Let me assist you.”

“Honestly, I believe I'm alright. Just my ankle.”

Before you can argue, he swiftly picks you up and carries you towards the house. You feel his body flex against you as he effortlessly strides across the lawns; you blush at where some of your thoughts slide when he is being nothing but an exemplary gentleman.

“My lord, please do not inconvenience yourself like this!” You try to argue.

But he will hear none of it and will not let you to your feet to test out the ankle.

“I witnessed the fall. I need to confirm you are not injured before I can allow such a chance,” he frets as he enters the house. 

“Jenkins, please send someone to fetch the local doctor with haste!” he instructs. “Miss y/l/n took a tumble in the gardens, and I’m concerned she has broken her ankle.”

“My lord, it is not broken,” you protest.

“Let the medical professional decide that, please,” he responds, a tick of annoyance on his face.

You cease your complaints and allow him to carry you up the stairs and through the hallway to your guest room. You are somewhat taken aback that he knows the room you are staying in without asking; it seems like a detail a lord would not trouble themselves with knowing.

He settles you upon your bed and starts to bark orders at the assembling staff that have followed in your wake - to bring blankets, extra pillows, tea and biscuits and cake, lots of cake.

You lay there, mostly bemused by his overreaction. Yes, your ankle is slightly swollen, and it throbs a little, but nothing that couldn’t be cured by a touch of rest, a cold compress and maybe some brandy.

He drags a chair to your bedside and insists on staying until the doctor gives his opinion. Taking tea with you and attempting, though somewhat stifled in his delivery, to read to you from a novel on your bedside table. You are touched by his caring nature but slightly confused by his continued presence.

“Lord Bridgerton, I am sure there are many pressing requests upon your time’” you begin carefully, “I’m quite certain the staff can see to my needs, and you can return to more important pursuits.”

“Nonsense. The health and welfare of my friends and family are of utmost importance to me; this takes precedence.” he dismisses. “Are you sure your pillows are adequately placed for comfort? Would you like a fire built?”

“I’m quite fine,” you chuckle, and he nods but does not move. 

“I shall leave when the doctor provides his diagnosis,” he assures for your mother’s benefit. She has taken to hovering in the room, which he likely interprets as her concern for your injury and, indeed, the appropriateness of his presence in your bedroom. However, you are sure her enthusiasm for an eligible bachelor in your room far outweighs any concern for your injury or even your reputation; she is very keen to have you married off soon.

“Doctor Samuels,” Anthony's greeting is flooded with relief as a kindly gentleman walks in.  “My good friend Miss y/l/n has injured her ankle, and I fear it’s broken.”

“Let me be the judge of that, please, Lord Bridgerton,” the doctor bustles and starts his examination.

He moves your leg gently around and checks a few movements with your ankle.

“Any pain when I do this?” He queries as he manoeuvres your foot. 

“No, doctor,” you answer honestly.

“Well, it’s not broken. It appears to be a twisted ankle. I recommend resting for a day, and the swelling should reduce.” He opines, reaching into his bag. “I shall bandage it to provide support, but you should be able to remove it in a few days.”

“Thank you, doctor,” your reply is in unison with Anthony.

Your eyes meet, and you both chuckle, your cheeks blushing.

“Yes, well, I can assure you, doctor, she will be nursed for with the utmost care,” Anthony says solemnly.

Dr Samuels frowns, bemused, as he finishes bandaging. “It is not a serious injury Lord Bridgerton; you needn’t fuss.”

Just then, some kitchen staff walk in, laden with platters of what looks like freshly baked cakes. 

“I tried telling him that doctor, and look where it got me,” you jest lightly, nodding at the cake.

Anthony rolls his eyes as Dr Samuels laughs and bids you farewell.

“I will see the good doctor out. Please rest,” Anthony implores and gives a respectful bow.

“Please don’t….” you raise your hand as you see your mother’s mouth open. “I assure you, mother, he is just being a good host and gentleman. Please do not make more of this than it is.”

She pouts and goes to leave the room as well. “Darling daughter, I must disagree; I would wager your pin money that man asks for your hand before the week is through.”

You just shake your head and motion her away—what a ridiculous notion. 

——

A few hours later, you are happily engrossed in a book when there is a knock on your door.

“How’s my favourite patient?” Anthony asks brightly, clutching a bundle of yellow roses, your favourite.

“Well, thank you,” you answer with a smile, smoothing down your bedding. “You really didn’t have to go to such trouble. Also, that was far too much cake.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assures, placing the flowers on your bedside table, “and I’m sure I’ve heard eating cake assists with healing,” he adds, a small teasing smile tugging at his handsome features.

You laugh. “Then I’ll be right as rain in no time, my lord.”

“You’d better be; your presence has been much missed,” he opines quietly, the sincerity making your heart skip a beat.

“It’s only been four hours since my injury,” you tease.

“And I’ve had to endure a luncheon without your sparkling wit; believe me, time is immaterial in such matters,”

You giggle but quieten as his hand covers yours gently.

“You will rest, won’t you? For me?”

“Yes, my lord, I’ll be fine very soon, I’m sure.”

“Good, because our annual country ball is in three days, and I was rather hoping to be the first on your dance card,” a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Of course, Lord Bridgerton, it would be an honour” you smile demurely, knowing even if you’re still in pain, you’ll endure it for a dance with him.

“I may also have a very important question for you to answer,” he said lightly but with a lingering look that causes butterflies in your ribcage.

“What sort of question, my lord?” your voice sounds breathy even to your own ears.

“The very best kind,” his answer and smile being somewhat cryptic.

“Will you not give me a clue?” You ask cheekily.

“How attached are you to your last name, Miss y/l/n? Because my question might change it,” he breezes with a wink.

You gasp loudly and place the hand not under his over your heart on instinct. He wants to marry you. 

“I… I…” you falter, then plum for the best option you can think of, to sum up your thoughts. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton. For everything.” You don’t know what else to say.

“It is nothing. As I said earlier, albeit in different words,” his voice crackles with a quiet intensity, “I will always, always protect those I love.” 

Your heart soars as he raises your hand in his and your last fleeting thought before his warm lips brush against your knuckles is, strangely, of your mother and how you have just lost your pin money wager. But it appears you may be gaining a husband—what compensation!

Tagging: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports

[wardenparker]

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 9

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila. 💖✨  

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always18+ Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this series include: divorce, break ups, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.**  Summary: Paris may be tumultuous at first, but it’s the City of Love for a very good reason. Guys, I have no defense for this one. I just really love Paris and want to go there so fucking badly... Notes: Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who came along for this wonderful ride with us! Next week we’ll be posting the epilogue for this story and then rolling right into something new immediately. The wheels of chaos in our minds never stop rolling so the fics just keep on coming. 🧡🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

Thanks to the overnight flight and the comfort of being able to sleep in first class, when you and Marcus touch down in Paris at 8:30 the next morning, you pretty much manage to avoid the fuzzy feeling of jetlag. It's been years since you've been back here but everything feels just the same, giving you a satisfying feeling of homecoming as you set out through the airport toward the taxi stand to ride out to his colleague's office.

"Sorry." Marcus tosses you a small, apologetic look as the taxi drives erratically through the city. "I'll see what's up and then if you want to go to the hotel, we can see about checking in." He knows you might not be up for hitting the ground running and he can carry this alone if he needs to.

“No, no, it’s okay.” As the city passes by the taxi windows you sink back and allow yourself an indulgent smile. You might be working, but it’s nice to be back. “Let’s go and be briefed for the case and all of that. Find out what we’re working with.”

“Thank you.” Marcus picks up your hand and kisses the back of it. “For coming with me. Saves me from having to choose an agent to bring with me.”

“I hope I’m half as effective as any of your team members are.” You kiss the back of his hand in turn and give it a supportive squeeze. The people you’ve met from his department have all been friendly and kind, and his stories paint them to be very good at their jobs on top of being nice people. “Plus, I’m infinitely more fun to play dress up with.”

“And I won’t feel exceedingly guilty if I had to pretend to be romantic with a co-worker.” Marcus knows there will be a time, but he doesn’t want to do that so early in your renewed relationship.

“Work is work.” Of all the problems you ever did have, jealousy or worry about infidelity was never one of them. You and Marcus are both loyal people to the core.

“I know.” The fact that your belief in him doesn’t waver is incredible. “But right now, work has you playing my wife.” He winks at you. “You might be good at that role.”

"It's almost like method acting," you tease, briefly sticking your tongue out at him as the taxi winds its way toward the nondescript office where his colleagues are waiting.

Marcus helps you out and tips the driver, hauling the luggage up the stairs after shooting you a dirty look when you protest that you can get your own bag. “Get the door.” He huffs at you.

“Stubborn.” You chide him teasingly, and slip past him to open the door. The woman at the desk seems pleasantly surprised that you speak much better French than Marcus, but switches to English for ease. She directs you to the second floor and gives you an office number, assuring Marcus that he is expected.

“Monsieur Pike.” The Interpol agent immediately greets you at the elevator, obviously being given a heads up about your arrival. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Marcus nods, adjusting bags so he can shake hands. “Happy to help, this is Dr. Pike. She is a director at the Smithsonian.” He introduces you, looking at you with quiet pride.

“Pike?” Ducasse looks between you, at the suitcases Marcus won’t let you carry and how you stand close together, keeping each other in your line of sight despite not always being focused on the same thing. Confident but not showing off. “I did not know you had gotten married. Welcome, Madame. Your expertise will be invaluable.”

Marcus catches your eye, tilting his head to communicate that he will follow your lead on how to explain your relationship to these people. Not wanting to embarrass you or to make you feel as if you are pressed to answer dozens of questions.

“We are divorced, but reconciled. A story for another time, perhaps.” Honesty, above all, especially when dealing with his colleagues, and you shake the man’s hand politely before allowing yourself to be ushered into a nearby office. “I am happy to extend my expertise to the FBI and to INTERPOL.”

“That will be a story to hear.” Ducasse’s brows shoot up in intrigue but he doesn’t press, instead motioning to you towards a seat and taking one of the bags from Marcus to stack the luggage in the corner of a cluttered office.

“What can you tell us about this case?” Marcus ask, shifting the conversation to the matter at hand. “How did you come to know about the art and this auction?”

"We had a tip that one of the warehouses that the local police were monitoring has seen some substantial movement and pursued several leads before finding the location of the auction. There is a mansion in Faubourg Saint-Germain currently owned by an alias of Jean-Luc Poitiers." The quick-speaking INTERPOL agent begins to point out photographs on the pin board lining one wall of the crowded room. "Poitiers has been underground long enough for any of the heat from his competition to die down, and it appears that this is where he has been suffering his isolation." Ducasse rolls his eyes as though considering a mansion in the gorgeous Seventh Arrdonissement a place to suffer is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. "The auction is extremely exclusive, by invitation only, but we have taken care of that while you were in the air."

“You got us an invite.” Marcus grins. “Who are we pretending to be?”

"A married couple, conveniently." Ducasse pulls a file out from under several other things on the desk beside him and hands it to Marcus to peruse. "Mr. and Mrs. Luke Martinez of New York City. Second house in the Hamptons, eight figure annual income from real estate holdings and investments. You will be asked to submit banking details upon your arrival, we will supply you with the numbers and the false funds." He leans back, half-sitting on the edge of his desk. "We will surround the building, ready to lock it down for arrests and to seize the stolen art, but we need you to actually put eyes on those paintings."

“What I wouldn’t give to have that be our lives.” Marcus jokes as he flips through the files and skims the background on the couple. “We will need to buy some clothes that reflect this.”

"You can attend to that this afternoon. There is some budget to be spared for it." Ducasse had made sure of it, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

"Does Mrs. Martinez have a listed career or am I a housewife?" You don't peak over Marcus's arm at the file in case there are things that aren't meant to be shared with civilians. You just want to have your story straight. "Or, um...a first name?"

“There’s nothing here you can’t see as a consultant on this case.” Marcus provides and grins at you. “Your name is Penelope.” He explains as he hands the file over.

"Well of course, why wouldn't it be?" The file has pages of background information and numbers that you hope you can memorize, but as you start to flip through the pages you practically feel your heart stop. There is a photograph of two men walking down the street side by side, one talking into a cell phone and the other checking his watch. The man on his phone is tall and lean, with curly brown hair and bright green eyes, and a jawline only slightly less defined than Marcus's. The crisp, blue suit is nothing like you remember, but his face is unmistakable. "Wh—who is this?" You ask, pointing at the image like you're afraid the man might jump out of the photograph and attack.

“That—” Ducasse snorts and taps the photo. “Is Henri Aubel.” He informs you. “He has been in Interpol’s sights for a long time, but we have been unable to pinpoint the crimes on him, unfortunately.”

"I..." Looking between Marcus and Ducasse, you can feel your stomach drop and a wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere. "I know him," you murmur, reaching for Marcus's hand like a security blanket. "I mean...we—we dated. While I was living here...years ago." The man you had known then was bright and seemingly sincere. Incredibly charming, yes, but you had never had any kind of inclination whatsoever that he was a criminal.

“Shit.” Marcus immediately frowns, aware that your cover won’t work. “Then we need a new game plan. Because if he recognizes her, ‘Penelope Martinez’ will be in danger.” The last thing he wants or is willing to do, it put you in danger for a case.

“Was it a close relationship?” Typically not a man to pry for personal information from new acquaintances, the rules have just changed for Ducasse since this is related to his case. He flies around to the other side of his desk to sit down, immediately tapping away at his keyboard to bring up the file on Henri Aubel. “What did you know of him then?”

The irony isn’t lost on you. To have just left a case with Marcus’s ex-fiancée behind only last night and for this one to now include your ex-boyfriend? The universe is having a nice laugh at your expense. “I met him at a gallery opening while I was a student at the Sorbonne. We…we were on and off for about two years, but I never had any idea that what he was involved in was criminal. I just thought he was an artist with a wealthy family.” Although, now that you know that he is wanted by INTERPOL, you’ll be combing back through every memory you have of him to see what you can glean. You squeeze Marcus’s hand gently, feeling like a child who has been caught being naughty. “I’m sorry,” you murmur under your breath, knowing that you have made this all incredibly awkward.

Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “It was ten years ago.” He reminds you. “It’s hard to know who people will become when you are a college student.” The only thing he’s worried about is your safety. “But maybe this is better.” He offers. “We don’t go in as the Martinez’s, did— did Henri know about me? Or that Pike was your married name?”

“Yes.” Swallowing is harsh and almost painful, like the lump in your throat is very real. “But back then you were going to be in marketing. I never had any idea you would go into law enforcement.”

“Good.” Marcus flashes you a supportive smile, aware that your guilt is amplified right now. He turns towards Ducasse. “So we pose as ourselves, just— fictional images of them. Is that doable with the invitations?” He asks seriously. Neither one of you are on social media, so it wasn’t like accounts would have to be modified.

“It should be.” Ducasse is nodding as types rather furiously. “At the risk of being indelicate, Madame, this may work to our advantage. A surprise like this can throw off even the most careful of men.” He looks up at you, eyebrows raised slightly, and tilts his head. “Henri Aubel is a dangerous man. If you did not know that about him, then you did not know the real him.”

“Then I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.” There is an empty chair nearby, and you sit down in it with the case file still in your hands. “I think it will surprise him, though, to see me. We were…well, I thought we were very close. But obviously he was never entirely honest with me.”

Marcus takes the file from your hand, turning towards you and giving you his full attention. “Listen to me, baby,” he begs you softly, seeing the hurt and turmoil in your eyes. “Men like Aubel have been taught from a young age to hide who they truly are. He never had any intention of you finding out who he is. Took advantage of you being unfamiliar with his family, with France. That makes him manipulative, you did nothing wrong.”

“Thank you.” Even though your voice is quiet it’s clear, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to squeeze tightly and murmur a soft “I love you” in his ear. It feels heavy, and wrong, and like you’re in trouble, but you know that’s just the shock of discovery.

“So we say that I’m— fuck, I was a hedge fund manager who made it big and wants to indulge in art?” Marcus tosses out, looking over at Ducasse. “How does that sound? New money, and my wife knows art?”

“That will work.” The INTERPOL agent nods, looking back at his screen before looking over at Marcus again. “Use New York City as your base, but use whatever details of your past suit you. The banking details are an offshore account in order not to raise any red flags, and I will simply change the name on the false account to reflect your real name. There is jewelry in the evidence lock up that you can use as props.” He sees nothing on either of your fingers now, so obviously it will be needed. “When you are out today getting your clothing for tomorrow night, please be as obviously affectionate as you feel comfortable with. On the off chance that Aubel has been watching to see if Dr. Pike will come back to Paris, we want your cover to hold up.”

Marcus nods, looking back at you again. “Are you okay with this?” He asks softly. “I can still find someone else if you don’t want to see him again.”

“It would be slightly hypocritical to back out when you just had to spend three weeks with a case with your ex.” You remind him. “And…and Monsieur Ducasse seems to think it could help.” You shake your head, offering Marcus a smile when you can summon it up. “I’ll be okay. As long as you’re with me, I’ll be okay.”

"I won't leave your side." Marcus promises, sure that he will stick to you like glue in the first undercover op you've ever participated in. His own need to make sure you are safe wouldn't allow it, even if he thought this Aubel wouldn't hurt you.

“We will do everything in our power to make sure no harm comes to you.” Ducasse assures you earnestly. “If I thought this would be more dangerous for you for knowing Aubel, I would not send you in. But I must ask, Madame. Do you know how to use a gun?”

The question makes you shiver a little, not being a big fan of firearms, but you nod. “Marcus has taken me to the firing range. We have one in the house, so I’ve learned.”

Ducasse nods and his eyes flicker over towards the FBI agent. He can tell that the man who had previously worked on a case with INTERPOL isn't exactly comfortable with his wife being in harm’s way. Not that he blames him, but this is a fortuitous situation and he will use everything in his power to get Aubel behind bars. He's wasted too many hours on chasing him to give up because your ex is the suspect. "I doubt you will need to, but we always send in our operatives armed." He allows.

“Why don’t you tell us more of what we’ll need to know for tomorrow?” With a whole day and night to prepare, you know that there will be plenty to learn and plenty of time to ask questions, but also plenty of time to build an alibi by being seen in the city. If what Ducasse says is true, people may be watching.

******

Hours later, Marcus sighs in relief when you are able to get to your rooms. With the knowledge that people might be watching, the bags had been delivered and you along with Marcus had started a very loving shopping trip along some of the more upscale stores in Paris. Now he's happy to just be alone with you and not worry about someone photographing you or approaching.

“I never thought shopping on the Champs-Élysées would be stressful.” Wrapped up in his arms in the exquisite suite, you and Marcus both sigh heavily and absorb the calm of being alone for a little while.

"It doesn't help when you are wondering when your ex is going to pop out from behind a bush." Marcus pulls you into his arms and sighs. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know. I wouldn't have put you in the middle of this if I had."

“You didn’t know?” You huff at him, perching your chin on his chest to look up at him. “I didn’t know! I feel like such an idiot never realizing he was lying to me for two whole years. And honey…” Fingers gently tracing his face, you cup his cheek in your palm and offer him a smile. “I would never let you face this alone if there is even the tiniest possibility that I can help.”

“I appreciate that.” He sighs softly. “So much for romance in Paris.” He can’t help but chuckle. “Not exactly turning out how I wanted.”

“René suggested we spend some of tomorrow doing romantic or touristy things, so we can still have some fun.” The INTERPOL agent had turned out to be a very kind and likable man, and by the time lunch came you and he had been joking together over tartine. “I know it’s not perfect, but maybe we can squeeze an extra day of paperwork,” you say the word in air quotes, “out after this is over and have a day to ourselves?”

“That would work.” Marcus admits, “taking in the sights before we buy stolen artwork.”

“I could take you to my old neighborhood?” It’s something you wanted to do anyway, and might feel a little less like being on display. “Walk around, grab lunch, maybe go in and out of some shops?”

"Whatever you want to do." Marcus promises. Despite the curve ball, he wants this trip to be one of fond memories when you look back on it years from now. Especially since he will be able to propose in the city that you had always loved.

“I had a couple of places that I always thought you would love.” And that just makes you hug him a little tighter, knowing that something good will come out of this trip no matter what happens with the case - although you know Marcus will see it through to the best possible outcome.

"I will love them." Marcus promises. "Because I will be with you."

“I love you, too.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring him down for a kiss and let it linger in the privacy of your quiet suite of rooms. “What do you want to do before dinner?” Ducasse had suggested a visible night on the town just in case Henri or his people were having you watched - either as his ex or as an attendee of the auction.

"I will leave it up to you." Marcus leans back and shoots you a grin. "This is your city, baby." He sends you a wink. "Show me the sights."

“Then we’re going to Harry’s after dinner.” Harry’s New York Bar is a legendary hangout of the Lost Generation, and given his love of all things F Scott Fitzgerald, it will be the perfect place for celebrating tonight. “You’ll love it. I mean, I hope you will.”

"Harry's?" Marcus looks at you skeptically. "That sounds like a nice place to drink." He hums and slides his hands down to caress your ass. "You want to get ready to go out?"

"You just want to get me into one of those slinky dresses we bought today." You wiggle your ass in his hand and grin, giggling when he raises an eyebrow at you like that should have been obvious. "Should we eat dinner someplace swanky to keep up appearances?"

"What is the swankiest place we can get reservations at the last minute?" He asks, smirking at you because there is nothing he wants more than you to put on a slinky dress and go have a fabulous meal before he proposes in one of the most romantic cities in the world. The ring in his pocket is burning a hole in it and he wants to see it on your finger.

“I bet if we had the concierge call it would do better than if one of us tried.” Your eyes flick up to his with mischief shining in them, wondering if you could even pull this idea off. “Madame Brasserie or Jules Verne? À la Tour Eiffel?”

"Whichever one you've never been too and always wanted to try." He tells you indulgently.

"Madame Brasserie is the newer of the two restaurants in the Eiffel Tower, so it might be harder. But I wouldn't mind eating at either one." There's something altogether too indulgent about the idea and you sigh a little dreamily. "I'll call down to the front desk and see what they can do."

"I'm going to jump in the shower." Marcus offers. "We've been going nonstop since we got here and I at least want to wash off the travel before dinner tonight."

"That sounds like a plan." You reach up to kiss him again before letting him out of your arms. "I'll shower after you. Otherwise we'll be having room service because we can't keep our hands off each other."

"You know that's exactly what would happen." Marcus winks at you and grabs his bag so he can get his toiletry kit out. "Make your calls and I'll be getting sudsy in there."

******

About an hour and a half later you're both finally ready and barely keeping your hands off of each other despite showering separately. The blue velvet dress you chose for tonight hugs all of Marcus's favourite parts of your body and the perfectly fitted charcoal gray suit he settled on is elegant and easy, making him look even more effortlessly handsome than usual. "The concierge said he would have a car waiting for us." You tell him, taking one step toward the door of your suite before he can pounce and trying to swallow down your nerves over the little blue box in the bottom of your purse. "Jules Verne had one reservation left for tonight and we got in just in time." And because you told the concierge about your plans, he had made sure to arrange for a few things to be waiting for you in your room when you returned tonight.

"Perfect." Marcus has heard of the restaurant and he wants nothing more than for this to be the perfect night. Regardless of what happens on the case, he wants you to have a night you can look back at dreamily. His first proposal had been sweet and earnest, not exactly fancy, but now the need for a grand gesture is almost compulsory. "We still have the elevator ride down to be handsy."

"Let's hope we get it to ourselves then." You throw him a wink over your shoulder before heading out the door, knowing Marcus will be close on your heels.

"Jesus, Paris you is saucy" Marcus chuckles as he hustles after you. "I like it."

"I've decided to enjoy the trip and make the most of it." The door clicks shut behind him and his arm slips around your waist as you walk down the hallway together, just a few feet to the corner and then the elevators, but still far enough for you to get cozy while you walk. "My favourite city in the world with my favourite person is not something to waste."

“Favorite person huh?” The proud grin stretches across his face and he edges closer when you reach the elevator, then he leans forward to call the car to your floor. “I am honored. Especially since you’re my favorite person.”

"I think honoured might be a stretch," you tease, leaning against the wall while you wait for the elevator together. "All I want is for you to be happy, baby. To be the one that makes you happy."

“Baby – you’ve always made me happy.” That is something that he can promise. Right up until you wanted out, Marcus had been the happiest he had ever been in his life. He reaches up and caresses your neck. “Always.”

"I love you so much." Wishing you could go back and erase the years apart won't change anything, but you lean up to kiss him now without hesitation. The future is what matters now. Your future together.

“I love you too.” The promise is simple, heartfelt and the look in your eyes has him wanting to drop down to his knee right now, but he knows it’s not time.

"Come on, love." The soft ding of the elevator interrupts you, but it doesn't matter. There will be plenty more sweet moments before the night is over.

Marcus allows you to pull him into the elevator and hums when he finds the car empty. “Should I wait to kiss you?” He asks, smirking slightly. “Don’t want to mess up your lipstick.”

The eyebrow you raise at him is incredulous, and you shake your head at him as the door closes to leave you alone for at least another minute. "Kiss proof," you inform him, as though it were ridiculous that you would wear anything else around him.

Thank God for whoever invented 'kiss proof' lipstick. Marcus has always loved you without makeup, straight out of the bed, but there is something so sexy when you are dressed up. Even if it's not technically for him, he feels like it is. Just like you love when he puts on cologne. Tugging you closer, he grins at you. "Well, we need to test that." He hums, "we haven't kissed with this lipstick color on."

“It’s a new brand, too.” He’s drawing you into him so easily you feel like a moth going to a spectacularly handsome flame. “How will know they’re telling the truth unless we test it?”

“Indeed.” Marcus makes it slow, gentle. Taking his time like the car isn’t slowing down as it reaches the ground floor.

It’s so easy to wrap up in each other. To let yourselves get carried away with affection and the romance of being in Paris together. The passionate kiss is intentionally and immediately intense – deep and luxurious and would probably be borderline pornographic if anyone was watching.

The doors open and there is a discreet cough before Marcus pulls away. Smiling apologetically as he finds a couple waiting to come onto the car. “Désolé pour ça.” Sorry about that. The apology is perfunctory, because he’s not sorry at all.

You can hear the woman muttering about Americans as you and Marcus stroll out through the lobby and it’s all you can do to contain your giggles. “Sorry not sorry.” You whisper, beaming at him. The concierge is waiting to load you into the car that he has ordered on your behalf, and you swear you feel like you’re in a movie. It might be a crime thriller, but it’s still elegant and passionate, and you love it.

"I'm not sorry either." Marcus keeps his hand on your back until you are sliding into the car and he is slipping in beside you. Allowing you to tell the driver where you are going since you are better familiar with the area.

Fortunately for tonight’s plans, you aren’t far from the Eiffel Tour. It’s an easy sight from the windows of your suite and a straightforward drive that only takes a few minutes - though the walk would be uncomfortable in heels. You’re grateful to have the driver and will certainly be tipping him at the end of the night even though it isn’t a necessity here the way it is in the US. When he lets you out at the edge of the park that surrounds the monument, Marcus slips out first and you happily accept his hand to maintain a little propriety while climbing out of the car in a skirt much shorter than your usual. “Now we go up,” you tell Marcus, practically sighing as you look up through the layers and layers of metal that compose the Eiffel Tower. Some people say they’re disappointed the first time they see it, but you’ve never understood why. It’s remarkable - an architectural triumph that stands out in the Paris skyline like a beacon.

“Did you know that the tower only took two years, two months and five days to build?” Marcus asks, nearly giddy as he climbs out of the car and offers you his hand. “Not bad for something that’s stood for over one hundred years.”

“I thought you might like to see it up close.” Yes, he has been to Paris for work, but you doubt he’s taken any extra leisure time for himself in all of that. “I came here my very first night in the city. I dropped off my bags at my little student apartment, and started walking across the city. Bought a crepe from a vendor on the street and sat on…” It takes you a second to find it, but as your eyes comb the area, they land on a bench a few yards away. “That bench, and looked up at the Tour Eiffel as I ate my dinner.”

“What did you think about while you were looking up at her?” Marcus asks curiously, wanting to know about your time here. Even if he wasn’t a part of it, you had history here.

"That she made me feel less lonely." You thread your fingers through his gently and give them a soft squeeze. It might sound like a sentimental answer, but you know that Marcus will understand. "If I was sitting here looking up at her, surely I wasn't the only one. So...it sort of became tradition. Any time I felt lonely I would come sit and spend time with her. And I knew that she was keeping other lonely people company. So I was automatically less alone."

“I understand that.” Marcus does, he had found plenty of little parks or monuments where he had been living to visit. Wanting to feel surrounded. It had always been that way since you had left.

"Come on, love." A small tug on his hand has both of you smiling at each other, but you nod toward the monument. "There's a special elevator for people having dinner at Jules Verne."

“How touristy is it that we are having dinner here?” He asks as you drag him closer to you. It might be incredibly cliché, but he’s thinking about proposing after dinner. Asking you if you will go up to the observation deck with him.

“Extremely.” And it doesn’t bother you in the least. In fact, it’s sweet. Sharing the city with Marcus means playing tourist in the best way possible. “But I think that’s a good thing. It’s a first for both of us and it’s going to be a beautiful meal.”

“It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.” Marcus admits, staring at you like you hung the moon. “The last time I was here, I—I couldn’t make myself come here.”

You turn back to him after hitting the button for the elevator, a soft but serious expression drawn on your face as you reach to touch his cheek. “Neither of us ever has to face anything along again, Marc.” You can promise him that. Wholeheartedly and without hesitation. “From now on, each chapter of our lives will have two main characters.”

“I love you.” Marcus whispers, knowing that down to the very fiber of his being. He’s never stopped, never. Not even when he convinced himself that he had moved on. You were just ingrained in his being like the hair color on his head or the way he has to lay on his right side to really sleep.

“I love you too.” Through all the ups and downs, the hardest struggles and the clearest days, it’s always been him. “Always.”

The ride up to the restaurant is shared with a young couple who are obviously on their honeymoon, making Marcus grin at the display of young love. “Don’t act like that’s not exactly how we are,” you murmur under your breath to him once the other couple has moved ahead of you to the maître’d stand. The couple are probably barely older than you were the first time you got married and you’re all the exact same level of handsy.

“Exactly.” Marcus steps up to the maître’d stand once they are being led off to be seat. “The couple in front of us?” He gestures towards the couple. “Champagne? To their table? And I will pay their bill.” He decides, wanting them to have a magical night.

“Oui, monsieur…” The gentleman provides ample space for Marcus to say his last name, and smiles in polite acknowledgment at the name Pike. He knows this reservation. Took it himself barely two hours ago. “Right this way,” he says in clear English, gracefully motioning for you to follow.

“After you.” Marcus lets you walk in front of him, so he can help you sit and so he can glance down at your ass in the gorgeous dress you are wearing. Reminding himself of exactly what is underneath.

The indulgent mood you’re both in extends to deciding on the seven-course menu with all the recommended wine pairings, and settling in at your table in the corner with a perfect view of Paris below from the window beside you.

“This is probably better than anything we could have imagined when we were their age.” Marcus had seen the surprise and delight in the younger couple’s faces when the champagne had been delivered. Looking around to see who had gifted them such a thing, Marcus hadn’t let them know. Hoping that one day, they would do the same to another young couple starting out.

“I hope they’re so excited for everything to come.” You reach across the table to link your fingers together and run your thumb over the back of Marcus’s hand. “They’re starting a whole new chapter of their lives.”

“Yes, they are.” Marcus looks down at your joined hands and smiles. Fully aware that the same can be said for you. The ring in his pocket is making him eager for the dinner to be over. You are wearing a ring that is a part of the mission tomorrow, but tonight, he wants you to wear his.

“Speaking of which.” The smile you flash him is bright and bubbly, and you hang onto his hand like a lifeline. “I want to talk to you about a dream I had on the flight over last night.” It’s just a silly thing, but it’s about sharing those silly thoughts and future plans with him. Something that you had trouble with years ago.

“Oh?” Marcus ticks his brow up in curiosity. “What kind of dream is this? I promise I didn’t leave the toilet seat up or cheat on you with your non-existent cousin.”

“No, it was nothing like that.” Although the idea of being cross with him over a dream about leaving the toilet seat up makes you laugh. “It was a coming-home-from-work dream.”

“Oh yeah?” He shuffles closer, getting the hint that this is one of those ‘want to make this happen’ dreams. “Coming home to me, I hope?”

“And the kids.” When you nod it’s with heated cheeks and a shy smile. “In the dream it was some kind of holiday? I couldn’t tell what, but I came home and you had been decorating the house with the kids all day to surprise me.”

“Halloween.” Marcus guesses, knowing how much you love the spooky holiday.

“Maybe.” The fact that he’s playing along has you lighting up as you smile at him. “But I came home, and you told me that before we had dinner, that the kids had a surprise for me.” In the dream you remember being incredulous until Marcus had supported this surprise - a fact which reassured you that it wasn’t a brand new crayon mural on the living wall or something like that. “And that surprise was a very cute and tiny little kitten.”

“A kitten, huh?” Marcus grins and shakes his head in amusement. He’s had a mild cat allergy but luckily the medications had improved since he was a child. “A smokey grey one or a black cat?”

“I was thinking one of the breeds that’s kinder to allergies,” you admit sheepishly, knowing he would probably be a little extra sneezy when the dear cat sheds seasonally. “In the dream it was a Siamese, but I don’t know how they are for shedding.”

“We can always look into that. I think they are better?” He tilts his head. “But honestly...” he twists his fingers around and pulls your hand closer. “I like the idea of having to introduce the baby to the cat when we bring them home from the hospital? Give them a little guardian from the start?”

“So you’d rather have the cat first?” For some reason that thrills you - as if it were a validation that the steps you’ve been taking to solidify your relationship ship are working. “We can do that.” You’re practically squeaking at the idea, so it’s fairly obvious that you like it. “Have our first baby be the fur baby?”

“Practice, right?” Marcus laughs. “If we can keep a cat alive, we graduate to a miniature human?”

“That sounds like a good plan to me.” Though you both laugh easily together, you’re practically vibrating with excitement in your seat. “I just think we aren’t home enough for a puppy. And cats are so sweet.”

“Cats are more…independent.” Marcus allows, grinning softly. “Maybe after we get back, we could visit a shelter. See if it’s kitten season? Or maybe even an older, sweet soul who wants a home for their twilight years?”

“We can absolutely start looking around shelters.” It was really just an idea that you were throwing out there - something that made you smile and gave you that feeling of making your house into more of a home. But in true Marcus fashion, he has turned it into something sweet and spectacular. “Although I insist that if we get a kitten, they have a silly name.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus grins, nodding in agreement. “Something that will sound adorable and be completely opposite the personality.”

“Bonus points if it is something will sound completely bizarre being called out at the vet’s office.” It absolutely tickles you that he’s going with you on this, knowing that his childhood dog was innocuously named Buddy. “Something long and elaborate that will be extremely silly when scolding them. We need to get all the comical naming impulses out of us before the kids are born.”

“Mr. Fuzzlesworth.” Marcus tosses out with a grin, enjoying the idea of planning with you. Obviously you would need to get home before choosing a pet, but this is what relationships are about, planning.

“Sir Fuzzbutt de Fluffington.” You nearly double over, giggling at the table. “Although, Mr. Fuzzlesworth kind of sounds like a Dickens character and I love it.”

Marcus chuckles, enchanted by your enthusiasm for this. Hating that the two of you have to break apart when the first course is served. It looks delicious and it's obvious that the waitstaff tries to make this an experience for those who dine with them.

"Cheers." Raising your glass to him when the plates have been set down and the wine has been poured, you have nothing but love in your eyes when you look across the table at Marcus. This is a far more eventful night than just this same time yesterday, and hopefully the food will be just as exquisite - if not even more so. "To us."

"To us." He will never not toast to that. "I think we are getting spoiled with nice dinners." He hums as he taps his glass to yours softly. "How will we go back to eating Thai takeout or Chinese on our couch?"

"Easy." You waggle your eyebrows at him salaciously and lower your voice. "The incentive is that we can do that naked."

"You got me there." Marcus smirks and nods. "That's a good incentive."

The courses are exquisite. Crab, scallops with caviar, langoustine ravioli, cod poached in consommé with fennel. Every plate is like a dance, and it genuinely might be the best meal you've ever had in your entire life. "We're coming back here," you tell Marcus when he groans happily at the chicken course that's been cooked with black truffles and wine you know for sure is too expensive for weeknight drinking. "The first night of our honeymoon, we have to come back."

"I have no objections to that." Marcus takes another bite and closes his eyes in pure bliss. "None."

Hopefully there will be a more sentimental reason to come back to this place on your honeymoon, but you have to keep that close to you for just a little while longer. Instead you just smirk and tilt your head at him. "Although the hotel might be a bit of a stretch. I'm enjoying that for what it's worth on this trip."

"That hotel room is a dream." He rolls his eyes dramatically. "I never get rooms that good on cases. We are stuck in something like a Days Inn. Not that they are bad, but it's not...this."

"Maybe I'm magic?" You tease, knowing that dealing with your former flame on a case isn't exactly magical. But at least it's come with something positive for him. "Like a flashy good luck charm you can keep on your arm."

"I'd keep you in my pocket if I could." He chuckles, winking at you playfully. "But on my arm is okay too. I guess."

"That would be a very big pocket to whole a whole adult person." Although the image is fairly adorable, you'll give him that. "But I'll tell you what. If you ever find one big enough, I'll hop right in."

"You know they make huge pocket blankets for being lazy on a couch all weekend, right?" Marcus grins at you, knowing he will order you one for Christmas now.

"I actually did not know that." You grin at him over the last few bites of this fifth course. "Sounds great for cuddling."

Chuckling softly, Marcus manages to get through the rest of the dinner without giving away that every course makes him even more jittery. Eager to get to the best part of the night in his opinion. Getting to propose to you and show you how much he loves you and wants to make this forever.

The last two courses are sweet - lemon and then chocolate - leaving both you and Marcus feeling more full than you've felt in ages but independently anxious and excited without the other having any clue. If you had known in that moment that you had the very same plan in mind it might have made you laugh or even rethink the occasion to try to surprise the other one all over again. But as it is, when you step out of the restaurant after your sensational dinner, you look up at Marcus and smile softly. "Do you want to see the best view of Paris you'll ever have in your life?"

"You read my mind, baby." Marcus answers with an indulgent smile of his own and he couldn't get closer to you if he tried as he leans in. Wanting to keep the moment as intimate as possible.

"Come here." There is almost no one on the observation deck at this time of night, and you've never been so grateful for coincidences in your entire life. The last two people looking out over the city in this area wander away toward the restaurant to enjoy their dinner as you and Marcus choose a place to stand, and for a moment you're sure that the strangers bolted from the scene because they could hear how hard your heart is beating. Surely if the pounding in your ears is as loud as your heart, then the whole world around you can hear it, too.

"It's a perfect night." Marcus has done this before and yet his heart still beats wildly and he can feel the slight moisture of nerves dampening the shirt under his suit jacket. Coming over to you and taking your hand gently as he turns to make a show of looking out over the city of Paris under the gorgeously full moon.

"It's the perfect view." Paris is secondary to everything, right now, although it's the perfect backdrop for what you're about to do. While Marcus is looking out over the city, and despite how hard you're shaking, you manage to hold his hand while carefully extracting the ring box from your purse and exhaling deeply. Kneeling down in heels is an exacting task, but your dress cooperates, and you manage to not make a sound as you do.

Sighing softly, Marcus knows that this is the moment. Sure there have been thousands of proposals right here, or on the ground below, but he wants to add one more. “I need to ask you some—” Turning, Marcus stops mid word when he sees you kneeling in front of him. “—thing. What—” he can’t even ask you what is going on, eyes wide and focused on you and the small box in your hand.

"Here's the thing, Marc." You're already on the verge of tears as soon as you open your mouth, but that's okay. This is the first time you've ever done this and hopefully it will be the last, and Marcus knows that feeling all too well. "I know this is...nontraditional. And you're a traditionalist in a lot of ways. But I need to ask you something. Because for ten years, anytime something big happened in my life, the first thing I wanted to do was call you. Whenever something bad happened, I wanted to find the doorstep of whatever house you were living in and make sure that you were okay. I thought about you every single day that we were apart, and now that we're together again I just can't..." you sniffle, breaking out into a smile at the overwhelming joy in your heart. "I can't help but be excited that I won't have to call you if something good happens. Or worry about you when something goes wrong as things inevitably do in life. Because you’ll be right there with me. I love you more than anything or anyone in the world, Marcus Pike. And there is nothing more that I want than to come home to you. To share our joys and sorrows with each other and to build the life of our dreams together." The little box in your hand is slightly damp with the nervous sweat from your palm but neither of you notice, too focused on the way the lid snaps back to reveal the stunning rung that you picked out just yesterday. "Would you do me the immense honour of marrying me again?"

He stares for a moment, the shock and warmth of you proposing to him curling into his chest and making his heart burst. Choking out a laugh, a happy one, Marcus hits his knees in front of you, staring at the little blue box that he certainly recognizes. “I— can’t— of course I’m going to marry you again.” He manages, reaching for your hand and digging into his jacket pocket with the other to pull out an identical box.

With both of you crying and laughing you would have looked slightly hysterical to anyone around, but you lean forward to kiss Marcus as he digs in his jacket. Nothing else matters except the fact that he said yes, and for a moment everything in the world stands perfectly still. It isn't until you pull away again that you see him holding an identical Tiffany ring box and you burst out into another round of sobbing giggles. "Of course we both did," you laugh, pulling the platinum band out of the box in your hand to hold out to him. "Can I, love?"

“Yes.” He can’t help the giddy, bubbly laugh that rumbles out of his chest. Watching as you start to slide the band on his finger. “I can’t believe this is what you were buying yesterday.”

"You didn't buy the 'lunch with Angie' story, huh?" The ring fits him perfectly and you can't help but stare at it a little. The last time you put a ring on his finger was years ago, and as wonderful as your first wedding was, this feels so incredibly right tonight.

“I saw you.” Marcus admits with a grin, his thumb rubbing the underside of the band. “I had decided to look for your new ring.”

"You saw us?" It takes a second to refocus, but your eyes flick up to his and you reach to wipe away the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yeah. I thought you were looking at something like a necklace or whatever.” He admits. “The associate kept bringing me rings so I didn’t have to turn around in case you saw me.”

"I was too focused. Although, the store manager now knows our entire love story." You lay kisses on both of his cheeks before you look down again, seeing the ring he's holding out to you in that same, now familiar, blue box. "Marc." The gasp that escapes you almost takes all of your breath with it. "Honey, it's absolutely gorgeous."

“I still have your other rings.” Of course he does and he’s pretty sure you know that too. “But I wanted to give you a new one, one for our new beginning.”

"Your parents will love this." As he slips that new ring onto your finger, it feels like your sense of balance has been missing that fine tuning for years. Without Marc's ring on your finger, you've been missing something this whole time. "I love you so much, baby. So much. And I can't wait to have our cat and our kids and our life full of dreams."

Marcus’s smile is full of all the love he has to give you. Bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss to the skin just above the new symbol of his commitment to you. “And tequila.” He adds, smirking at you as he reaches out to cup your face and draw you in for another kiss. “We can’t forget the tequila.”

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

tCIGtDYE: @missmarmaladeth  @afro-hispwriter  @rosmarinus @mythrielofsolitude @jxvipike @avaleineandafryingpan @hnt-escape @supernaturalgirl20 @scorpio-marionette @bobafvcker @midnightevermore @dinoflower   @pearl-aqua-tears @itsbaehyungbitch   @pepperminticedcoffee @anticipayosbot @girlofchaos @speedynana @loveslide @noisynaia @just-here-for-the-moment @goodgriefitsawildworld @curiouskeyboard @iarellanouus @mymistery09-blog @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thenightdreamsballad @pondsofravenclaw  @sherlock221b114679797 @pimmyxyone @theredwritingwitch @ghostinhours @timpletance @strawberryjamcheesecake @amb11 @a-little-shade-of-kiki @wildemaven @tuquoquebrute @supernaturalgirl @ellenmunn @iceclaw101 @toxicfrankenstein @catsandgeekyandnerd @missmarmaladeth   @theincredibleinkspitter @agiroflee98 @lyonessofnarnia @we-could-have-been @totostits @scorpio-marionette @kikis-writing-world @trappistmonksofthefuture @danichz  @88dragon06  @scorpionerd @myrealmofchaos @movievillainess721 @firekissed13 @qseomik @acollectionofcells1 @captain-of-my-game1992 @alician87 @lovesbiggerthanpride @justgonewild @hiyorinatsuki   @pinkrosethorne @apocalypticwafflekitten @groovycass @rebel-fanfare    @d0cthunder @gooddaykate @purplerain04 @astridflowers @frasmotic @dornish-queen​

My Masterlist!

[thefinalsnart]

Top 5 Link moments 👀

OH STELLA WHERE DO I BEGIN. I genuinely thought this would be easy but I had to go through and double check so many chapters, I ended up with double the amount of scenes and had to narrow it back down to just 5.

I haven't read the latest chapter yet but I know he's back again, so this might just have more tacked on later LMAO.

5. Link Fighting the Akuma in Hearst Orphanage

This was maybe the first time we got to see what Link could do, and where I really started to go "Now, who is this guy?" He only gets a couple licks in, but what he did for a 'civilian' was so impressive. I went with this page because the kick is just so incredible, and I love him talking about being a CROW-- "I have black wings." Love love love this whole scene.

(Also just before this, he carries Emilia and Timothy over his shoulder and jumps down a whole flight of stairs. That I didn't really remember until looking for these panels, but GOD does that really do it for me. Mr. Link please carry me over your shoulder like a bag of four.) 4. His 'Last Words'

I don't have a lot to say about this one. I love how Link can be a little sassy on occasion, and I just love his bitchy smirk as he delivers his 'last words.' His death CRUSHED me, but I can't lie he really served here.

3. His Backstory and the Thirds

I love love love not only Link, but the Third Exorcists as well. I wish we got to know more about them all. This also felt like such a sweet, rare little moment of Link opening up to Allen for once. Allen has talked to Link about Mana a bit at this point, but Link is still such a mystery. But it's also bittersweet! Kiredori and Goushi are dead, and they haven't a clue as to Tewaku, Tokusa, and Madaro's fates... In the pages before this Link has extra lines under his eyes, has he been sleeping? Has he been crying? I just love him so much. I hope someone asks about the Thirds in a discussion room one day so we might learn more about them and Link.

2. Link's Inner Conflict

First of all, this page is GORGEOUS. His expression, the tattoo in full view. But I love this scene because we start to see some more character development in Link. He's always been one to follow orders, and we see him wrestling with these decisions and the consequences they might have. He wants to save Allen, but Lvellie is pulling him to Nea. Who will he choose? I just love a character whose faith gets challenged. What are you going to do Link?

1. Link's Return from the Dead

Alternatively titled "Link's First Smile." I lost my MIND when he was revealed to be alive. And then he shows up in thigh highs and a slutty little turtleneck? The audacity. But what I love about this is that he's smiling. Even if it's just a ruse for Kanda, this is one of if not the first time we see Link smile? In one of the discussion rooms I believe Allen comments on how he always tried to get Link to laugh or smile, but he never could. As much as I love this scene, truly a Cunt vs Cunt moment, it also stresses me out so much. Link what do you have planned? Where will this lead him? Will you ever be free of Lvellie? Do you even want to be free of Lvellie?

He tortures me. I love him so much and he tortures me!!

Bonus: I'll leave you with Link's sexy little Artificial Exorcist Arc outfit

Also thank you so much to the website d-gray-man-manga for all the pages! I went through their translations/scans to jog my memory and grab these panels.

[jacaranda-bloom]

FIRST LINE CHALLENGE

Thank you to the always lovely @nouies @disgruntledkittenface @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @zanniscaramouche and @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed for tagging me to complete this challenge xx

(This challenge was from months ago, but it ended up lost in my drafts for some reason. I won’t tag anyone as I’m pretty sure most people did this when it was going around, just figured I may as well hit publish on it. If anyone sees this who hasn’t done it and wants to, please consider yourself tagged!)

Rules: Post the first lines from your last 10 fics published on AO3. (Sort by date posted.) If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have.

1. And What If I Were You “A hospital is no place to spend an anniversary.”

2. Under The Milky Way “The first time Louis sees him, it’s from the stage.”

3. Love On Air “It’s not that Louis is known for being impatient, but this guy is really testing his limits.”

4. Moonlight Minx “It’s the sun’s fault that Harry’s in this predicament.”

5. Truebonds “Louis watches from the porch as the FedEx truck drives away.”

6. From Dust To Lust “Attention passengers, the departure of QF75 to Brisbane has been delayed, again.”

7. Best Snog Ever “Harry rounds the final landing, the last flight of stairs rising up before him and he pauses, sucking in a lungful of air.”

8. Love On A G String ““Just a Stella, thanks,” Louis says as he leans into the bar, voice raised loud enough to carry over the thumping music.”

9. With A Little Kindness “Harry holds the carton of free range eggs in his hand as he glances down at the contents of his trolley, quickly doing the mental arithmetic to see if he can afford them.”

10. In A Twinkling “It had started the same way as most of Louis’ hair-brained schemes did; to make his Nan happy.”

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

(I have no idea what the text limit is on these things. I hope this edges all of you, you funny horny crazy wonderful douchebags <3 I love you all. Thank u for being here <3 ~ Belgianon)

The metro was absolutely packed. Normally, Evan would end up feeling claustrophobic and Amelia would get irritated with the expat lack of personal boundaries. This time, Amelia used the chance to press her back against Evan’s front, holding onto the dangling handles and bracing her core so she was solid. Evan responded in kind, pulling her hips back against his, using her for balance… and to hide the awful tightness that had grown in his jeans, a tightness he was trying desperately not to think about as the metro train rocked. Amelia couldn’t help but chuckle when he fell a little, whining against her neck.

Thank god most of the other passengers around them had headphones in… because gods, the noises he made…

At their stop, it was Amelia’s turn to drag them both from the metro train and up an endlessly long flight of stairs, straight out into the much more relaxed Merode area. Practically running down the hill towards Amelia’s apartment (tucked away down a gorgeous side street), Evan tried thinking of everything he could to keep his cool.

He was not going to waste this first time. It had been fucking brewing up long enough, the tension between them both unchecked by paps chasing them around, or angry antsy fans who thought they had a chance with either of them… he wasn’t going to waste it by coming in his pants halfway to her place.

Kate Winslet hacking up phlegm that one time on set when she had the end of a cold…

That did it.

They reached Amelia’s apartment building, and she buzzed them in. And then, she stopped to check her fucking post!!!

“Ames… please… the mail can wait…”

“Hmm… can ‘the male’ wait?” she asked, leafing through the three letters she’d received: a Delhaize coupon card, a letter from her health insurance, and a junk mail. Evan turned her around and slammed her against the wall, pinning her wrist holding the mail down too.

“No,” he growled, his brown eyes so dark as they bored into hers. “The male can’t fucking wait.” Amelia couldn’t stop the little whimper that came from her lips. Evan attacked her throat. “And if I have to wait longer…” he murmured, between kisses that sent heat both skyrocketing to Amelia’s face, and straight down to her cunt. “I’ll make sure you can’t fucking walk tomorrow…”

“Hmm,” Amelia breathed. “Then maybe I should grab some milk before we head inside…”

Evan snapped. He threw the post back into the letterbox and took the keys from her hand. With a gorgeous amount of strength and dexterity, he picked Amelia up and carried her fireman-style into the lobby, unlocking the door. Amelia couldn’t stop laughing as he hauled her ass into the tiny elevator and pressed for her floor, his thumb tracing circles right on the growing wet patch on her jeans.

“And you wanted to go and get milk,” he murmured, pressing the wet spot. Amelia cried out. “For shame…”

“You said you’d make sure I couldn’t walk tomorrow!” Amelia breathed as Evan stepped out of the lift and let them both into her apartment.

“That’s still on the table.”

Door closed.

“Is it a promise?”

Evan dropped her, pinning her against the wall with his hips.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Because I just want you to know that it’s disgustingly unfair of you to promise me that… and then not make good on it…” Amelia looped her arms around his neck.

“You’re fucking gorgeous when you’re being all shy and sexy…”

“Oh, I’m wildly aware you’re going to fuck a tomato.”

“Eh… beet…”

“Is that another promise?”

Evan attacked Amelia’s mouth. In truth, he’d thought her shy and contained, maybe a little bit into him… not this! Not stepping over clear boundaries she’d put in place over the years that had kept her away from the world of relationships and sex. She’d had her own traumas, just like he had. But there she was, putting it all on the line for him. Beet-coloured cheeks be damned.

It didn’t take too long for that embarrassment to melt away under Evan’s touch as he pulled her clothes from her, leaving her in her underwear. And that wet patch that had been in her jeans had soaked entirely through the lace front of her panties.

“You haven’t left me much to do here,” Evan murmured, sliding a finger behind the lace and stroking her softly.

“Fuck!” Amelia cried out, her head hitting the wall. Evan chuckled, the sound a growl in his chest.

“Pity… I was hoping to show you how well I speak French.” His finger still circled her clit, making her legs tremble. Before she could warn him not to, since she was so close, he slid two fingers into her, and she came hard on them, biting the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “Look at you,” he murmured, stroking her hair. He still held her up. “What a little mess you are…”

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Amelia breathed, looking up at him. She was glowing, but this time, not from being cherry red. Her own eyes matched his.

“Oh, darling… you’ve no fucking clue.”

Evan picked her up again, carrying her through to the bedroom. He threw her onto the bed and stripped his own shirt off, revealing muscles he’d been working on purely because Amelia had him boxing. Lean, healthy muscle. Amelia’s eyes roamed over him, and she bit her lip. But Evan didn’t give her much time to look. He dropped his jeans and boxers and crawled over her, stealing her mouth again, covering her body with his. It was intimate, sensual almost… and after the assault with his fingers had left her a little raw, it felt almost overwhelming. Evan, too, felt something he’d never actually felt before. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t think about much else as Amelia reached down with a trembling hand and started to stroke him gently, making him bite down lightly on her shoulder.

Evan grabbed her leg and pulled it around his waist. He almost lost himself immediately as he pushed into her smoothly – since she was already dripping like a waterfall for him, no resistance at all. Sure, half the fun was warming her up, but that had happened on the metro. Amelia held his face, kissing him softly.

“I know I said what I s-said,” she whispered. “But be gentle?” Evan rolled his hips a little, catching her in all the right spots. Amelia’s eyes rolled back, and she arched her back as much as she could against him.

“Sure about that?” he purred, nipping her jaw. He didn’t wait for her reply. He slammed his hips into hers, reaching some delicious spot inside her that made her clench around him. “Fuuuuuck, Amelia!” he cried out. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!” He watched as Amelia took his hand, feeling his balls tighten just a fraction more as she slid that hand around her throat, a desperate glint in her eyes. Evan ran his thumb along the protruding artery in her throat, his thrusts becoming a little sloppier as he squeezed her throat lightly, then a little more when she grinned.

“Yes!” Amelia cried, tangling her fingers into his curls. Evan couldn’t hold it anymore. With the absolute messiest of thrusts that barely did anything, his body snapped, and he filled her, pushing his face into the pillow beside her head.

“Fuuuuck,” he yelled, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Ev-an, move,” Amelia breathed. “P-please, baby…”  Evan lifted his head, the bravado from earlier gone as he ground his hips against hers as much as he could. “Fingers- “

“No,” Evan murmured, kissing her softly. “My dick, or nothing…” Amelia clung to him, eyes huge. “C-come on, baby… come for me, darling…” a little nip on her throat, a squeeze of her ass, and a final, single roll of his hips against hers, and Amelia let out a long cry into his chest, gripping him. It was almost enough to make him come again, but he was already spent.

“Fuck you,” Amelia breathed, eyes closed. “That was amazing…”

“It’s a shame you guys don’t have Gatorade here,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “I can go for days on that stuff…”

“Eh… I might need a few minutes…”

you icon, you’re right on time!! 🙏🏼

[changingplumbob]

New Goth Household: Chapter 3, Part 1

In this part Milton struggles with nightmares, the household discuss their Winterfest plans and there are cats eating on the table... Sorry if there are typos in here, I'm setting it up while watching a livestream of a cat birth way past when I'm normally awake.

Back to Willow Creek for the holidays! I love how beautiful this lot looks when it snows. The Halloween decorations have been exchanged for some light up snowmen and inside some Winterfest wreaths have been hung. How awesome is it that this household (which includes a toddler) got spun for Winterfest! I’m not sure how much story will actually go on this chapter as my brain has trouble handling so many sims at once but I’ll give it my best shot.

Joey is still here for now. He finished his computer science degree last rotation. Well, technically he failed the last course due to a bug that stops my sims progressing with their uni coursework but luckily for me cheats helped me get him his deserved grade. He took the time to do homework, did an excellent presentation and took notes every class so there’s no way he did not deserve to pass.

Keira is in her final year of university, that biology degree will be complete in no time. Her girlfriend Marta works as a barista and spends time practicing on the piano outside their room. I have doubled the delay in skill building as it doesn’t make sense to me how some of my YA’s can have level 10 anything so we will see how that goes. Also, against my better judgement, I have increased how hard it is to build and maintain relationships as some of my sims maintain a full relationship bar by calling each other once a week. It’s helpful but probably not too realistic.

And in the newly renovated third floor we have Gertrude and Hamlet. Hamlet is no longer a kitten but a young cat. Also I swear I’m a responsible pet owner and Gertrude is spayed, I don’t know why she’s still making calls of love to the universe…

Newlyweds Alexander and James are adjusting to Alexander’s youngest brother Milton living with them. They tried offering him his own room but it didn’t take. After the death of his father and the disappearance of his mother Milton wanted to sleep where he could see Alexander. He is understandably having a few nightmares. It might make it difficult for the couple to have any kind of woohoo life but both Alexander and James are determined to put Milton first.

Sure enough Milton wakes up early and distressed. Climbing out of bed he bursts into tears, waking the slumbering couple.

Milton: Father dead! Mummy is dead! I’m dead! *wails*

James: It’s alright Milton, you’re safe now

Milton: I a flat pancake *wails*

Alexander: I’m coming buddy. Tell me what happened

Milton: Rock that killed daddy fell again and killed mummy

Alexander: It was just a dream Milton, we don’t know that she’s dead

Milton: Then rock roll to me and I try run but I not fast and rock squish me flat. I dead!

James: That sounds rather terrifying

Alexander: You’re awake now Milton. You’re alive, you’re safe. How about some breakfast huh

Milton: I... I can has cereal?

Alexander: Of course

Alexander scoops up his brother to carry him down the two flights of stairs.

Milton: Silas at daycare say he best brother but you best brother

Alexander: *laughs* You’re pretty good to buddy

Joey: So glad the watcher decided to give us a thermostat

James: I’m pretty sure I decided that

Joey: Sure. And you decided to rip out all your fireplaces for fun

Keira: I don’t mind, I’m still afraid of fire

Joey: Because now, we live in a green neighbourhood, go us!

Marta: A what

Alexander: He means it’s clean

Marta: Why not just say clean then. You simlish speakers

Alexander: I’m so hungry. I can’t wait to-

Hamlet: *meows* what’s this

James: Hamlet you really shouldn’t be on the table

Hamlet: *meows* bite me dad

Alexander: Okay I’m starving, why does he have to rub eating in my face

Marta: Why is he eating human food? Do you not feed him. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he wakes us up through walls

James: We have several bowls and litter trays all over the place

Alexander: Hamlet, leave some for me!

Milton tucks into his cereal happily eating the nightmares away. Keira begins her homework while Alexander manages to wrestle a plate of fruit salad from Hamlet.

James: Hamlet you really should not eat human food. It’ll mess up your insides

Hamlet: *hisses* Fight me

Marta: Any Winterfest plans

Joey: I’ll probably head to Tartosa, spend time with my parents

Marta: Keira was thinking we would visit her family too, spend some time in the sun

Milton: We have guests and presents

Alexander: That’s right. Cassandra and Rahul are going to visit with their kids

Milton: Savannah meanine

Alexander: She’s spirited Milton, just remember you’re older

Marta: I might see if there’s any odd jobs I can swing today. I told them I could cover weekends but that hasn’t worked out

Keira: Their loss

Marta: Thanks carino, good luck with the homework. Remember, almost done

Alexander: I need to start on mine but I have to get rid of this awful goatee first

Keira: Oh it is you. I thought it was a sasquatch using your voice

Milton: Sass- sass… sass catch

Gertrude jumps on the table and begins to eat.

Alexander: What the heck. Gertrude, you’re meant to be the older responsible one

Gertrude looks at him and pats the fruit salad questioningly

Alexander: Food is not a toy

Milton: *babbles to self about toys*

James: You all finished eating

Milton: Cereal good and Joey snuck me juice

James: Of course he did

Milton: What we do today uncle James

James: Well we need to get ready for Winterfest but you’re a bit small to help with that. How about a nice hot bath

Milton: With… bubbles?

James: *laughs* bubble bath it is. Up we go mate

It was here that I completely gave up battling the action queue cancelling and had my run of testing mods. Bjorn was super excited to help (not). But back to the actual stars of this story. Alexander began to shave off the goatee while Marta did daily yoga. Joey heard back from the job agency and he scored a role as an Ace Engineer in the Tech Guru path. Since he wants to be a start-up genius rolling in simoleons when not rolling in the ladies he gets to work polishing off his mobile app.

Milton has a wonderful time splashing in the bath. I can’t really see the bubbles but the moodlets assure me they are there. When he’s chucked a decent amount of water from the tub James gets him out and into his day clothes. Milton uses the potty since he’s near it while James works on cleaning up all the bathtub overflow.

Milton: Good kitty cat, good kitty

James: Hey Milton, do you want to go play? I need to do more cleaning

Milton: By Alexander please

James: I think he’s in the library working on his project

Milton: Can I have lift uncle James

James: I suppose your legs are still very short. Okay, hold on tight

Milton: *giggles*

James: Special delivery, one prince of the bubble bath

Alexander: You do make a great parent sweets

Milton: Alexander play?

Alexander: I’m a bit busy now buddy, maybe later. I’m sure someone will have time though

Gertrude takes the time to sharpen her claws on an especially plump ottoman while Milton decides to have a play with the toy cars.

James: And what do you think you’re doing

Gertrude: *meows* who me? Being a cat

James: There is a lot of old furniture in this house Gerty, we can’t just tear it all to shreds

Gertrude: *meows* pretty sure I can actually

James: Now where has Hamlet run off to

James finds Hamlet in the downstairs bathroom and negotiates him leaving the room so he can vacuum up the puddles from the broken sink. Hamlet begrudgingly agrees.

Marta: Hey tesorito, you doing okay

Milton: Want to learn more before birthday

Marta: Oh, I can help with that. Shall we go over your numbers

Milton: Flashcards? Flashcards!

Marta: I can see you’re excited. Okay, what’s this one

Milton thinks and tries to peer around to the back of the card

Marta: Hey, no peeking

Milton: Mummy let me

Marta: Oh I doubt that very much

Alexander tends to his homework after doing a draft of his presentation. Following a workout Keira goes to find Marta.

Keira: What do we have here

Marta: Cheating

Milton: I not cheat

Gertrude: *meows* he would if he could

Keira: You can’t learn if you cheat and peek buddy

Milton: Oh, I want to learn... so maybe I not peek

Having enough of flashcards for now Milton heads to the dollhouse but he doesn’t want to play alone. Keira joins him and the two make up a life for the doll characters. Milton can’t old back his love of books forever though and soon asks Keira for a story. She gets one and begins to read but Milton is so excited to hear it that he won’t even sit down.

Previous Part (York) ... Next Part

[callmebliss-got-swamped]

“Corporations are the soulless brains of rat-filled people.”

Context under cut. Content warning for gore

In my dream last night I was somehow managing to buy a house. Massive, rambling, old, lots of antique furniture in and flourishing plants still there. Was taking a tour with my ex, god knows why, who was excited about things in the place for me but his presence drove me to explore faster than I wanted so as to not be in the same room.

Gorgeous…greenhouse? Conservatory? Lofty glass-ceilings room with potted plants all around and quite a few in pots suspended by chains from the ceiling. Warm and bright, all my plants would love it.

A beautiful study with a fireplace taking up a whole wall, dark wood built-ins with glass-front cabinets. One of those clocks with the perpetually spinning orbs under a glass dome.

In one room there was a bench sized and shaped structure, turned akimbo mostly toward the wall. The seat area was round wooden rails, with actual wooden seat platform on it large enough for one person at one end. My ex declared it to be a shoeshine bench; there were foot supports in front of the seat for such an activity so I had to presume he was right. Couldn’t test whether the seat could still slide along the rails, though, because there were four 80s-90s era mini electric keyboards on the rails. Collecting dust in a house where everything else was clean.

I moved on without finding the kitchen, climbing the stairs. The upper floors were a little more dim, and had a stranger layout, with half-flights of stairs. Went up one to find a room with the doorway filled with two panes of glass on hinges; the one on the stairs side I had to press and release to have it spring out and swing toward me. The one on the other side did the same in the other direction. It led to a playroom with toys mostly put away but others still scattered on the far side of the room. The glass door was, apparently, so a parent could glance up the stairs and see the kids still safe and playing in there.

I left through a door to one side; coming up the half stairs, the ceiling had slanted sideways over me, indicating another set of stairs above running perpendicular.

This was when I ran into the small man. Somehow it did not bother me he was there. He reminded me of The Old Man Of Hoy from Sense8, but much more compact, only three feet tall at most.

At one point I discovered an oak and wrought iron built in foldout stair made to let me climb to open some sort of door. I pulled it out using the round safe-door type handle, climbed up, but the door was locked.

“Don’t have the key.” The old man said. “There’s another way to the fifth floor.” He sounded unsure of himself but I followed his swift pace around to the bottom of a staircase that climbed through a space that got smaller as we went up, to a door that was 1/3 height and also locked. But I had a piece of flat metal and a Bobby pin I could bend, and a rudimentary experience of basic lock picking, and I got it open.

The old man and I were hip to hip as we shoved our top halves through the doorway. The other side was dark, so I pulled out my phone and set it to flashlight. To the right, the ceiling slanted down in two sections; eaves, flat wood surfaces painted a violet-tinged grey with white accents. On one end the floor opened up to a sharply dropping ramp that disappeared into shadow. At the time it struck me as a bad slide for a person to go down, but now I think it was a slide to move boxes from eaves storage to rooms below without having to carry them downstairs/through rooms. Like a dumbwaiter with the simplest of physical mechanics.

We turned our heads and my light to the left, and the ceilings rose to full height, picking out open doorways to very still rooms, objects and doorknobs thick with dust and some furniture draped with cloths. The old man crowed with delight. “You found it - The Cousins’ House! The house within a house!” We scrambled through and to our feet, and somehow I know this section was just that - a whole ‘nother house, attached and separated, from days long past when folks might come visiting for months at a time.

We explored here slowly, for this house was dark as midnight and even more maze like than the main house. I rounded a square pillar with piles of abandoned items around its base all dusted and cobwebby, and there was a hint of movement at the edge of the light. I moved closer - it was a doll, perhaps the size of a standing American Girl Doll, no taller than my knees as it stood there. It’s head moved, turning away, and a little-girl voice said something I do not now recall. My friends standing behind me (I do not know who, but they were there) were terrified, so I said, “oh look, a baaaaayby! Get the baby!” in a playful singsong voice. I stopped toward it to scoop up the doll, to show my friend it was perhaps a really good windup doll.

That is when the doll ran. That little girl voice was repeating,” don’t catch the baby!” While I chased it through the maze of rooms and halls, barely keeping it in my shaker flashlight, calling out, “catch the baaaayby!” My friends were yelling to stop, no, don’t try to catch it. Wet came back round to where they stood and I snatched the doll up, swaddling it in the blanket that was wrapped around it and cradling it in my arms to show my friends. It’s face was turned away.

“Who’s a baby?” I asked jovially, stroking the fringe of its bangs. My friends were relaxing now. The doll’s head swiveled to face me—

ABRUPTLY I was no longer in that place, that situation, those people. I was staring from very close up into the face of 90s era pixie-cut Winona Ryder. Her pale skin was glistening with moisture, her teeth perfectly white as she hissed, “Corporations are the soulless brains of ratless people.” She took a deep breath, ragged, as if talking was an effort, and said it again. “Corporations are the soulless brains of rat-filled people. Corporations are the soulless brains of ratless people. Corporations are the soulless brains of rat-filled people. ” Over and over again she repeated it and slowly my view drew back like a camera pulling away she was still gasping and hissing it as I saw that she had no arms, rough-edges of flesh around wet pits where they had been pulled off. She wore nothing, she was in a bath, deep cuts down her body that was dappled with moisture - from sweat, from steam. There were long streaky tunnels of blood down her skin. Finally she could speak no longer, her head lolling in a deathless silent scream, the inside of her mouth blackened. Her legs were torn away the same way as her arms. The bath water was milky. When I was far enough away I could see a thick ruddy cephalopodean tentacle rising from the bath, lashing toward me.

I awoke. Full of What The Fuck?

[nemesisvoid]

Chapter 3: Closer

Groaning and rolling over onto her left side Genevieve felt around, her eyes half-closed still, her hands searching around wildly, "Blanket..." she muttered still wanting to continue sleeping. Her green eyes opened slowly as she rolled over onto her back and realized she didn't feel the heavy green fabric anywhere near her. She sat up slowly and gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the daylight filtering into her bedroom. The blanket was still at the bottom left corner where her father had folded it neatly since her previous weekend with him. Sighing she figured she had never actually gotten into bed properly but passed out where she had dropped down and dozed off the evening prior, "How did I even sleep like that?" She wondered though mildly impressed she had lasted the night like that uncovered and not even waking once.

Remembering she had neglected to clean up her injured hand before she passed out, she glanced down at her left hand to notice she was no longer clutching the dark blue handkerchief and the wound had been cleaned and bandaged up. She rolled herself off the bed willing her still tired body to stand and made her way to the small desk she often drew & worked at. Her bag was no longer on the ground but sat on her chair. A solitary piece of paper was left for her on the desk, the black pen that had been used rested on the note. Her father's handwriting was scribbled across the page, "Gen, I came in to check on you and saw your hand. Cleaned it up and bandaged it as good as I could. I wanted to tuck you in but didn't want to wake you. Also I've got a shift today but I'll be home early. P.s I made you waffles. Love you".

Genevieve smiled at the word 'waffles' and folded the piece of paper in half to tuck it into a little box she kept all her notes from her father in. The still very exhausted girl stretched as big as she could and glanced around her room. Suddenly the memory of the golden-haired boy with the book tucked under his arm flashed in her mind. She winced a little out of embarrassment remembering the help from him she had received and how he had very much witnessed her impaling her hand with a carving tool, "Ugh I can't believe he saw me do that. There's only one way to forget about it all...I need a trip to the bookstore." She grinned to herself pleased with her own idea. After all it was a Saturday and she needed an excuse to get out of the house. She threw off her sweatshirt, grabbed her towel and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

All showered, hair dried, breakfast had and dishes washed, Genevieve threw on an off-black t-shirt, blue baggy jeans and a pair of black socks. She finished the look with 4 silver rings and a plain black choker. Her dark hair was dried curly and a little wild but she preferred it that way. The vibe was a little emo, a little grungy; a completely different look to the day before. Grabbing the black backpack she had fished out of the closet and filled with the items she needed for the day, she noticed the handkerchief Jasper Cullen had handed her sat neatly folded on her little vanity, "Ah so that's where that went." Grabbing it she tucked it into one of the front pockets of her backpack and flung the bag onto her back, "Might as well carry it with me just in case".

Genevieve fished her phone out from the front pocket of her jeans and checked the time, "Shit, I have five minutes to catch the bus." With slight panic she flew down the small flight of stairs to the front door where she had flung off her boots and pulled them on before hurriedly heading out. Luckily the bus stop was just down the street.

Having successfully caught the bus she settled herself into a window seat and plopped on the pair of headphones she took everywhere with her, prepared to zone out until the bus got into town. Though she spent most of the trip focusing on the scenery the bus passed, her mind could not help but wander to the very awkward golden-haired boy every so often.

It wasn't long before Genevieve found herself surrounded by far more people inside the bus before it was finally her stop. She quickly disembarked from the bus and headed down the street to her favourite small bookshop; The Little Green Frog. It was probably the only place in town that sold books and yet had a certain charm to it that the bigger ones did not. Though quite small, the place had 2 floors. The first one held a tiny coffee bar so you could grab a drink and read your favourite book, while the second floor was mostly quieter and had the odd small divan scattered about between the aisles. Of course the second floor is where Genevieve found herself almost everytime she visited.

Slowly she browsed through the aisles not exactly sure what she came for but decided she would need to leave with new reading material. Stopping suddenly a dark brown book with gold foiled letters caught her attention causing her to grab it off the shelf. As she was lost in thought flipping through the hardcover in her hands, she felt someone silently slide up next to her. Never moving her gaze from the book, she took 2 steps away hoping the person would get the hint and move along elsewhere.

"Genevieve?", her name was called in a deep voice, a slight southern accent mixed in. The girl's eyed widened as she turned her head to face the person who spoke her name so casually; Jasper Cullen. "Oh good, just the person I did not want to see" she thought to herself. The very clearly annoyed girl could not help but give him a quick once-over; he wore a burgundy button-up shirt, black jeans and a simple though thin for the weather black jacket. His shoes were of course the same black boots she often saw him wearing around at school. The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips as he gave her a curt nod knowing full well he had made her uneasy with his sudden appearance, "I...am sorry if I startled you. I noticed you walk in and thought I would say hello..." he trailed off watching her expression and demeanor change from startled to 'I wish you would leave'.

She nodded in return, turning away as she remembered the day prior's embarrassment. Silence fell between them for a few moments as Jasper browsed through the shelves. "This is too fucking awkward, why did the Furby had to show up?" Genevieve thought to herself, regretting for the first time ever making a trip to get new books. From the corner of his eye, Jasper caught the stressed stiffening of her back and jaw, "Am I bothering you at all? You seem a little unnerved." Turning to face him once more, she flashed him the nicest smile she could muster up as she tucked the book she held under her arm as a 'I will be taking this home' gesture, "No...not at all. I just wasn't expecting to see you here today. Did you come for something specific?" "That's right, make light convo, maybe he will piss off quickly", she convinced herself mentally.

Taking but one step closer, Jasper nodded and fished out the very tattered copy of "The Outsiders" from his jacket pocket and held it out to the green-eyed girl. Instantly she realized it was the book he had tucked under his arm when he offered her the handkerchief. The sight of the familiar book caused her to give him a genuine smile as it was one of her favourites. A soft though irritated sigh escaped the pale boy's lips, "Unfortunately, I think I just about read and re-read the hell out of this thing til I just about killed it." Genevieve nodded in agreement, "You think? The pages would be flying about this place if you weren't clutching it so hard!" At the girl's very honest retort, the golden-haired boy chuckled and took a step back once again, "I suppose you do have a point. I was looking for a replacement, though I would like to keep this current copy but I'm afraid I am not very savvy at repairing these kinds of things."

The dark-haired girl's eyes lit up as she knew she could be of help though not completely sure why she suddenly wanted to have anything to do with the awkward boy, "Perhaps I could fix it. If you'd let me. I'm not at a professional level just yet but I can definitely rebind it and recover it for you...if you don't mind, as a thank you for helping me yesterday." Jasper stared at the clearly elated girl, her happiness almost coating the air around him, his still awkward and stiff demeanor relaxing a little as he felt her become far less uncomfortable around him, "I would very much appreciate that. Though if you wouldn't mind joining me downstairs, I'm sure you would prefer not to be standing forever as we talk." The sudden invitation took her off-guard to the point where she automatically nodded, feeling even calmer than she already was and followed him down the creaky wooden stairs.

As she stepped down from the last stair, Jasper held his arm out behind her back, though not touching her in case she stumbled or fell back. He led her between the patrons and few scattered about tables making sure to keep himself between her and anyone else; an almost protective gesture she had not experienced before. Genevieve glanced up quickly at him wondering what the hell he was even doing and why he was being so careful with her. Nodding to her as they reached his table, he pulled out her chair and urged her to sit. As she made herself comfortable, she watched him disappear for a moment and return with a small hot cocoa. "I'm unsure if this is to your taste but as it's a bit chilly out I thought a hot drink would be appropriate", he said setting down the steamy drink in front of her before claiming his own seat. Genevieve picked up the dark green mug and took a small sip of the hot liquid, savouring the sweet and almost creamy drink before turning her gaze to him, "Why do you talk like that? It's a bit weird you know."

The sudden question took Jasper by surprise, causing him to go quiet for a moment as he considered his manner of speaking, "I'm sorry if it's a bit awkward. I suppose it's because I'm a little old-fashioned." She laughed in response, "Dude you're like 17...". She caught a small tinge of amusement in his golden eyes before he nodded in agreement, "Old-fashioned 17 ma'am." He gave her a bigger smile this time nodding the way a southern gentleman would. He slid the very old copy of his book towards her, "Again I appreciate you doing this for me Genevieve, is there something I can offer in return?" She shook her head in response before she took another sip, "That's not necessary. You helped me yesterday and was kind enough to buy me a drink, I think that's more than enough."

Jasper nodded as he considered her words, "If you're sure..." and watched as she swung her backpack around to fish out his handkerchief from the small pocket it was tucked into and held it out to him, "I'm kinda glad I ran into you actually so I could return this." Reaching out, the golden-haired boy slipped his right hand under hers cupping the hand that held the handkerchief while his left hand reached out to gently take the folded up material from her to tuck it into his jacket pocket. Genevieve's eyes widened as she felt his icy fingertips on her skin for the second time in 2 days. Jasper flashed her a grin as he used both of his hands this time to lead hers to the still warm mug to cup it tightly, "You should be careful, your hands are very cold sweetheart". The girl stared still unsure what to say, her cheeks flushing pink at his words watching him stand up and push the book closer towards her, "Take all the time you need. And once again I appreciate the help. Of course I'd take you home but I do believe you aren't quite done browsing, so I will see you on Monday." Jasper gave her a curt nod before making his way out of the bookstore leaving a very dumbfounded girl cupping a still hot mug of cocoa.

[mhykimagines]

hii!! i literally love ur writing so much i always get excited when you post! can i please request shino and (gn) reader seeing each other after a long time and they rlly miss each other? bonus points if you sneak in a kiss ahshjdhjdsfhj. but if this request is too specific please feel free to ignore!

Ahhh all the nice words are embarrassing me.... You guys are all so sweet! Thank you for sending a request in, and I hope you like it!

Caricature of Intimacy (Shino/GN!Reader)

tags; scenario, shino, fluff, kissing, gender neutral reader, wizard reader

"I'm going to him."

"And I'm telling you to just wait...!"

You're growing more and more frustrated with the knight standing in front of you, your eyebrow twitching. You were usually pretty patient; you were a Sage's wizard, after all, so sometimes missions were required. You'd long since come to terms with that, since this was necessary to become stronger for the Great Calamity’s impending attack. But this was different.

Shino, along with the other Eastern wizards and the ones hailing from the North had a mission quite a distance from the manor, and it sounded fairly intense. However travel time shouldn’t have mattered because they had Mithra, the man could teleport for crying out loud, so what the hell was taking so long? It’s been nearly two weeks, with no word from any of them, not even in the Sage. They could’ve been in trouble, they could’ve been hurt or dead or-… Well, there was nothing worse than death for wizards except… Oh god, did Shino and Heath lose their magic? Then they would need you, and that’s what you’ve been trying to tell Cain, but he’s not letting you go.

“If they need me, the longer we stand around talking is the more time that’s wasted, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“And if they don’t need you, the Northern wizard’s are going to blow the whole manor to pieces for a Central wizard to underestimate them.”

“I don’t particularly care, at least I’ll know he’s safe! If Arthur or the Sage was in danger, you wouldn’t hesitate to run into any problem! Why should I have to wait because I’m younger?” You’re really trying to understand Cain’s thought process here, but maybe it’s because you’re not exactly thinking rationally. You’re thinking more with your heart than your head, but the thought of Shino being hurt or needing you is too much for you to process. Cain seems to be at a loss for words or what to say here, and you’re certain you’ve won this argument, when there’s a knock on your door and you groan in exasperation. “Yes…?”

“You may want to come downstairs and quit sulking.” Bennett’s smooth voice suddenly cuts in, the door to your room opening enough to reveal him. He’s smiling languidly like he always is and you wonder why for a moment before your eyes light up, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“T-Thank you!” You stand up quickly, scrambling past Cain and Bennett before letting your feet carry you down the hallway. Halfway down the flight of stairs from floor 3 to floor 2 you remember the fact that you can fly, but it felt stupid to pull your broom out inside the manor when you’ve got so much pure adrenaline in you. You can’t see your own face but you’re sure your expression is a mix between desperation and hope that your boyfriend is downstairs waiting for you. You fly down the stairs from 2 to 1, apologizing for nearly crashing into Murr and Rustica as you run through the hall, and as you fling the door open from the hallway to the courtyard, you crash into someone who’s going about the same speed as you.

You hit the ground with a thud, hissing as you hit your tailbone on the annoying material of the damn floor, eyes looking down at your lower back and rubbing the area in pain. “Shit, I’m sorry…” You haven’t even seen who you crashed into yet, too busy reeling from the impact. “I wasn’t really paying attention, I-“

You nearly jump when something is on top of you, feeling another bodily weight send you to prop yourself up with one hand as your head snaps downwards, and your heart nearly explodes at that familiar head of hair pressed to your neck, arms you’re so used to feeling around your torso. “God, I missed you.”

“Shino…!” You nearly explode and want to cry and laugh and scream, but you opt for the third choice and wrap your arms around him, pushing your weight back into him and he lets the position change. He ends up on his butt as you press your head against his chest, desperate hands clutching his shirt as you sign and take in the feeling of him. “Where have you guys been…?! I’ve been worried sick, you didn’t tell me it would take you this long!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He does genuinely sound apologetic as you pull away from his embrace to look at his face. He doesn’t look injured or pale or worried, all good things, but you’re still confused on what took him so long to get back to you. “We couldn’t use Mithra’s teleportation near the barrier of the place we were at, and we ended up staying the night for a few days to get a feel for the situation and see what we needed to fix. Were you worried?” He seems like he was trying to tease you, but you’re having none of that.

“Of course I was worried, are you crazy…?! You’re suddenly gone for like two weeks on a mission you said would be a few days, I thought you were dead somewhere or lost your magic or something was seriously wrong! Don’t freak me out like that-“

You’re promptly shut up by the feeling of his lips pressing themselves to yours, and you want to be mad at him for cutting you off, but you can’t. Not when your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, and you feel yourself melting.

Yeah, you were worried.

[jargop-doe]

Okay, finally getting to making the band post.

October 29th, I had an awesome day. Band happened. Went to semi-state. Warmed up, it sounded incredible. Went out there, had the best performance of the year, crowd absolutely freaking loved it. Bringing the dang dot (the 1.5 metre circle of foam and plywood we my group had as a prop) back sucked because we almost had to carry it all the way back to the trailers, but we got lucky and a couple of people saw us struggling and helped us out (we're the only dot with 3 people on it, and of course none of us have any arm strength). Made it back, helped with some stuff because I didn't have to change, went back and got to watch 2 bands. Went out onto the field for Senior Retreat (first time we've done that while I was in band!) with all the other seniors. We didn't make it, which was fine because we did one heck of a performance, and the 10 bands who did more than deserved it. Had a giant group hug and started heading back to the buses one last time. Started crying then. (Crying is good, I need to do it more often.) Got undressed and into clothes I like (basically long stuff), and after a few tries I finally got my uniform put away correctly, and headed over to the trailers. Headed up the stairs and thought I knew what was going to happen, because I saw last year's seniors do this. After I put my uniform up, I got ready to head out one last time and one of the uniform moms asked me if I was ready. I said no, trying to make light of the situation, and she gives me a whole speech about how I'm gonna do great things in life, which was cool? but weird? but also really nice? Anyways, I go to step down the first flight of stairs, and the Entire Freaking Band starts chanting my name. I didn't even know half of them knew it. I was already crying pretty darn hard, but that just sent me. It doesn't even matter that they were chanting my government name. I just love them all so much. Got down and clapped and cried for all the seniors who came after me. Managed to hug all the clarinets, and everyone else I wanted to, plus a few more. Bus ride home was awesome, even the freeze-out I was unprepared for. I probably cried for a solid 45 minutes to an hour. My only regret is that I didn't get to give them the speech I wanted to that basically said thank you all for being my family for the last four years because I was crying too hard. I'm going to miss the band. A lot.

[ladydancing]

Chapter 3: Trouble

When The Dancing Lady landed on Bakura, Aola and Rania headed straight for a clothing shop to get Rania some clothes of her own. She kept the tight black pants that Aola had provided her with, but got a white shirt that was a bit more modest than Aola’s. She also came out of the shop wearing a maroon flight jacket. Their next stop was a blaster smith. Aola had suggested, if Rania was going to look more like a smuggler and not a Jedi, she would need a blaster. If this new Empire was hunting Jedi, Aola didn’t want Rania walking around with a lightsaber. For now, they would be safe with her carrying her lightsaber, because there was no Clones on Bakura.

As they entered the blaster smith, Rania spotted a gold belt and holster, while Aola walked up to the owner and asked “Do you have a DL-44 or a DL-22 blaster?”

“I have a DL-22” he replied “I’ll go get it.” Moments later he returned with it and handed it to Aola. She took the blaster and felt it. The weight felt right. She checked over the rest of the blaster and power pack. “How much?” Aola asked as she looked over the blaster.

“700 hundred credits” the owner replied

“I’ll go shop somewhere else” Aola said handing the blaster back to the owner, hoping he would lower the price.

“600” he answered

“500” Aola said as she turned to see Raina already wearing the gold belt and holster. Aola didn’t understand Pantoran’s love of the color gold. They always seemed to have it on their clothing somewhere. “And the gold belt and holster my partner’s wearing”

“Ok” the shop keeper answered sounding disappointed, knowing he had been taken. Aola handed him the credits and handed the blaster to Rania “Let’s go.”

Rania staired at the blaster before holstering it. “Jedi don’t need blasters, we have our lightsabers for defense.” Her lightsaber already hanging from her new belt.

“We’ve went over this on the way here. If this Empire is hunting Jedi, wearing a Jedi’s weapon in the open makes you a target.” Aola sighed “I don’t know about you but I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat. I saw a cantina down the street.”

As they the shop and turned the corner, there was an Imperial officer and a group of Clones in the street. “I thought you said we would be safe here.” Rania whispered to Aola.

“There have never been Clones on Bakura.” Aola whispered back “Even still it’s your damn lightsaber that’ll make them suspicious.”

"Great, the officer is heading this way. When he gets here let me do the talking." Aola said.

The Imperial officer stopped in from of them blocking their path. "Where did you get that lightsaber?" He asked pointing to the lightsaber hanging from Rania's belt. "Jedi are traitors of the Empire."

"My partners not a Jedi. She bought it from a bounty hunter that killed a Jedi." Aola stated, trying to act nonchalant.

On a roof top not far away, layed flat a figure layed with a sniper rifle. Tizz Uuram, was a female Mirialan. She unlike most of her planet did not believe in religion. Because of her outstanding marksmanship had decided to become a bounty hunter instead. Looking through the sniper scope she moved through the group on the street. There was an Imperial officer and a Pantoran female. But it was female Twi'lek she focused in on. She then took a second to look at the wanted holo. Aola Beck Wanted by the Hutt Cartel. Dead or Alive. Yes that was her when she looked back through the scope again. Tizz would always rather take her prey in dead. She knew the officer would understand when she showed him the holo. She locked in on Aola's head and squeezed the trigger.

As Aola continued to talk to the officer, Rania sensed danger, but it was not from the officer or the Clones. At the last second, Rania ignited her lightsaber and pushed Aola out of the way knocking her to the ground. Her lightsaber blade had blocked a blaster bolt coming right at Aola's head. The blocked laser bolt reflected off her blade back at the officer killing him. Just as quickly, Rania had switched off her lightsaber. The Clones hadn't been paying close attention to the conversation, but one said, "She shot the lieutenant" pointing at the roof top not Aola or Rania. The Clones began firing at the mysterious figure on the roof.

Aola realized this was their chance, "Back to the Dancing Lady!" she yelled to Rania as she began to run with Rania not far behind.

"Damn" Tizz yelled as she got up and started running in the same direction as Aola and Rania, jumping from roof top to roof top, the whole time dodging blaster fire from the Clones chasing her. She had no idea how she had missed such and easy shot. The Twi’lek and the Pantoran appeared to be heading to a YT-1930 freighter in one of the landing bays. She jumped from the roof heading for the same ship. Just as the ship was taking off and the landing ramp started to close, Tizz jumped just making it on to the ramp. She pulled her hand blaster and moved slowly up the main corridor. Tizz knew she had to be careful, there were two of them and only one of her. She got about half way up the corridor when she saw the Pantoran with a lightsaber blocking the way.

“You’re going no further.” Rania said

“Where’s the Twi’lek, Aola Beck?” Tizz demanded. “She’s wanted by the Hutts.”

Out of the cockpit emerged Aola, “I’m right here”

“Land this ship now.” Tizz demanded “I’m taking you in.”

“Why, do you want to be killed. You killed and Imperial Lieutenant and then you ran onboard this ship to escape.” Aola explained “I’m wanted by the Hutts, Rania, here is wanted by the Empire, and I’m afraid you are too now for murder. You have two choices, I land the ship and all three of us are killed. Or you stay onboard with us and we work together to avoid our hunters.”

Tizz screamed “Damn” as she threw her blaster on the deck.

Aola smiled “Welcome onboard the Dancing Lady.”

[morethanwords0475]

January TC Challenge

Day 1: Happy New Year! Any hopes for the new year? (TC or non TC related?)

I hope C and I will continue to keep in touch like we have done until now and that I get to see him more than once or twice this year 💀

Day 2: Do you have any nicknames/codenames that you call your TC? Do they have any they call you?

I call him C on here and he calls my normal name, which always makes me a little sad because he really likes giving people nicknames and even once said he’d think of one for me but never did, and he never once used my common nickname which many people do (even Incas Lily does).

Day 3: Describe the moment you knew they were more than just another teacher.

To be honest even on the first day we met him as the head of our programme, I suspected that he would become an important figure to me, just not to the extent that he ended up being. A week before we had our first 'talk', I was feeling particularly bad while at school and suddenly had an all-consuming urge to be hugged and held by either him or Incas Lily. I was near his office then and intentionally walked past it just to look at him. I didn't know why he suddenly carried so much emotional significance to me, but I just really wanted to talk to him – it's a little surreal that, just a week later, it happened.

Day 4: Do they decorate their classroom much? What does it look like?

He doesn’t have a classroom, but he decorates his office a little bit. Nothing too extra.

Day 5: What's the age gap? Did you ever think you would fall for someone that much older? Are you comfortable with the age gap?

14 years, which is fine, and it really feels like less. He once told me that he had always just talked to me like another adult, which was really, really nice.

Day 6: Describe the first time you saw/met them. How did you meet? What was it like? Were you automatically attracted or did it take some time?

I met him on the first day of school last year, he was new to our school and coming in as the head of our programme. He left a very good first impression with us; even though he’s not physically 'my type', I liked his energy and how reliable he seemed and the way he interacted with us.

Day 7: Do you plan on keeping contact with your TC after graduation? How do you plan on doing it? If you're graduated, have you kept in contact? How have you managed that?

I have graduated and kept in contact! We email back and forth once every two months or so now, and he is the only TC whom I actually feel good about keeping in touch with (i.e. he doesn’t make me hate myself every time I reach out, unlike with Incas Lily). He had casually alluded to us keeping in touch for a long time into the future, and I really hope he meant it.

Day 8: Is there something that tends to remind you of them? Like a sport, food, animal, etc…?

The main sports he plays always remind me of him, the niche shared interest that we have always remind me of him, and things to do with education also do because we’ve talked about it a lot.

Day 9: Do you have a memory you are particularly fond of with your TC? Any cute stories?

I have soooo many good memories with him I literally can’t choose. The three-hour talk we had the last time I saw him was easily one of the best. A more random cute interaction was when we walked up three flights of stairs together after one of our meetings, and we were just casually talking about food on our way, laughing and all; I loved walking together with him and loved the little conversation.

Day 10: Have you ever touched your TC? Like a hug or a brush of the hand?

Yesss we’ve never accidentally touched but we have shaken hands three times and hugged twice. 

Day 11: How often do you talk to them? Do you talk to them outside of school?

Almost every school day from the middle of March to when we graduated, and now we email every one or two months. I’ve never seen him outside of school (except during our grad dinner ofc) but I guess our emails now are technically talking outside of school?

Day 12: Have you ever had any previous TC's? What were they like?

As this blog has documented, I have had many other TCs, but C is one of the only who had never taught me, and we got to have the closest relationship. 

Day 13: If it were to happen, how do you imagine the perfect kiss going down with your TC? If by chance you have kissed your TC, how did it happen?

I don’t have strong romantic feelings for him and I adore his wife, so I probably wouldn’t want to kiss him. If it did happen, though, I would imagine it to have been at the end of one of our long talks. We’re both stood up after having casual and heartfelt conversations for an hour, and I’m awkwardly trying to thank him like usual, expressing how much everything he has done means to me. Maybe we’d fall into a short silence, and one of us would lean in to the other for a kiss, his hand gently on my waist to steady me, as natural and tender as a couple kissing goodbye.

Day 14: Do you truly believe there is a chance that they're interested in you? Has anyone else pointed out that maybe you're special to your TC?

I am special to C. I know it, and he has said things to that effect. He’s definitely not interested romantically, which I’m perfectly fine with.

Day 15: Have you ever gotten them a gift? If so, what was it?

I've gotten C so many gifts, mostly small snacks (and mostly chocolate) because he said he really likes food. At the end of the school year, I also gave him some things related to the niche interest that the two of us share, and he seemed really happy.

Day 16: If you're in their class, what are your grades like?

He doesn’t teach us, which is probably for the best since I’m pretty bad at it. 

Day 17: If you had to pick one feature about them, physical or personality, what would be your favorite?

There is genuinely so much to love about C. The thing that first made him stand out to me was how much interest he showed all of us – he wanted to listen to our feedback, he wanted to know more about our lives, he wanted to share in our achievements and give us support where we needed it. I’m always drawn to teachers who seem like they really care.

Day 18: Do you know of anything they do outside of work? What do they enjoy doing in their free time?

He plays sports, walks his dog, listens to podcasts, spends time with friends, and I think he mentioned he occasionally games. Like, a person with a well-balanced life with hobbies and is happy and healthy??

Day 19: What goes on for you when you see them? How does your body react?

I didn’t tend to be nervous when I saw him (which was a good thing), it usually made me feel excited or comforted to see him. Sometimes I did struggle a little with our dynamic and my body would literally tense up when seeing him, but it didn’t happen often.

Day 20: What have you done, or what would you do, to spend more time with them? Join a club/sport they're in charge of? Sign up for an extra class they teach?

He doesn’t have the time to run clubs (and I suck too much at the sports he does anyways), but I did do stuff like sitting in on one of his workshops with a lower year group when he invited us.

Day 21: How often do you dream about them? What do the dreams usually consist of?

Maybe not as often as I would expect with TCs, but I remember dreams about him quite well. Before I left school it was usually some kind of twist on normal interactions, now I sometimes dream of being back home and seeing him again or being in the past. I dreamed that we were in a relationship two nights in a row a few weeks ago.

Day 22: What's a little detail you've noticed about them that you aren't even sure they're aware of? Do they run their hand through their hair often? Do they subconsciously bite their lip?

I don’t get to observe C as much as listening to him talk about himself, so I’m not sure about what he’s not aware of. I did find it cute that whenever he was trying to exaggerate with a number to make a point or just be funny, he often chose the same specific number.

Day 23: If they weren't a teacher, what do you think they should be?

Probably an athlete, but I think his goodness would be wasted in a professional sport environment – the same way it would for T and S, who are also both great at sport but are also both so much more than that. 

Day 24: Do you think other people in your school may have feelings towards them too? Why?

On one hand I can’t imagine other students having romantic feelings towards him (even I, who have been attracted to no less than ten teachers over seven years, didn’t have much romantic feelings), but he’s just such an objectively good person. The absolute joy in his being, how reliable he is, his compassion, how he always listens and initiates conversations… It’s so hard not to love him.

Day 25: What are their classes like? Do they talk a lot? Is it mostly independent work? Are there a lot of notes?

I’ve never been in his class, and he doesn’t really teach a content-based subject.

Day 26: How would you describe their personality?

He's very extroverted, conscientious, logical, and organised. He really values building connections with people and can be a bit of a people pleaser (like me). He's really reliable and always finds solutions.

Day 27: What's the weirdest thing they've ever worn?

This is so specific- it was like a kilt, but a bad one, so it looked more like a picnic blanket draped around him, which was really funny.

Day 28: What's something you don't quite fancy about them? A quirk you find odd? A physical trait that you aren't a fan of?

This is just something that messed with my head a lot back when I was still quite unsure of our dynamic – when he greets students in the corridors, especially me, he almost never uses our names. Like, he definitely knows our names, but when other teachers usually say things like "hi [J]", he only says hello or morning, and it used to sound dismissive to me, as if he didn’t actually see me.

Day 29: How long have you had a crush on them?

Crush is probably not accurate, but I’ve had feelings™️ for almost a year now.

Day 30: Write a poem (short or long) about your TC.

I lost my ability to write poetry after T left :( I like to think that it died with him.

Day 31: Do you have anyone in your life who knows about your TC? Anyone you can talk to?

My closest friends know I was having those talks with C and that I have feelings, but probably not just how attached I am. For some reason, I think they feel a little more weird about my attachment to C than they did my crush on T and Incas Lily.