#genuinely wish i could dip and kiss each tag

[graveflowerss]

you guys r so nice..

[spatialwave]

pretty little thing.

➸ ask: “❛ i need you. please. i'll be quick. ❜ with Viktor and a usually bold reader, but who’s right now just so needy for Viktor 👉👈” – ➸ pairing: viktor x fem!reader ➸ word count: 1.2k ➸ tags: mdni! nsfw, fxm, shameless smut, porn w/o much plot, masturbation, oral sex, facials, submissive viktor, bold reader. ➸ notes: i genuinely never felt filthier writing something fjgnsdjfg–don’t LOOK AT ME. 😳 ask came from this prompt! askbox is temporarily open...currently taking a few modern au requests!!

Everything about Viktor drove you fucking crazy.

Those narrow eyes that pierced through you, sending cold shivers through your spine when they flickered up and down your figure. Slender, nimble hands that worked tirelessly to please you, fingers flitting between your legs, pushing inside you and curling against the bundle of nerves that had you crying out. His lips that praised you with words and left heady kisses along your skin and cunt, your thighs clenching on either side of his head as you rode the waves of pleasure coursing through you.

But–you drove him crazier.

A cocky smirk would creep to your lips when you sat idly next to Viktor, both silent as his free hand that wasn’t hastily writing notes over parchment danced along your thigh. Slow, meticulous movements that dipped between your legs, fingers running along the edge of your panties. He was good at silent asks, not much for words or begging, and you were always quick to indulge a man so deserving.

Bold enough to force him back on the bed, riding him until the early morning hours as the warm sun sprawled along your naked bodies and your hips ached and thighs cramped. Until he was a whimpering mess underneath you, strangled groans caught in his throat as he filled you.

You were much better with patience. You preferred waiting for his actions that indicated his desires, absent-minded touches that wouldn’t cease until you were on your knees blowing him. 

Viktor had been preoccupied all week, focusing his energy on the research with Jayce and leaving you to your own devices. The days blended into the next, and tonight, you were a pitiful mess. You hadn't felt this way in a long time. As you sank into the couch, book clutched tightly in your hands, you squeezed your thighs together, and you ached longingly—desperate.

You fixated on the words, but they danced along each page, twisting into an indecipherable mess and leaving your mind as quickly as they came. Pages and pages were left unread as frustration bubbled up in the back of your throat and a loud groan came through. 

Fuck this.

In a swift motion, the book was discarded to the floor and your hand slid between your legs, eyes falling shut as they slipped into the fabric of your underwear with familiarity. Tentative touches, gentle fingers circling your clit that was throbbing. Your other hand slipped into your shirt, fondling your breasts and pinching your nipple, wishing so badly that it was Viktor’s hands making you feel so good.

It was easy to fall into the rhythmic motions, an idyllic smile lifting the corners of your lips as your desires were met. Not in the way you would have preferred, but taken care of nonetheless.

Two fingers slipped inside easily, your cunt eagerly enveloping the digits. Not quite long enough to make the lasting impact Viktor could.

The click of a lock snapped your body upright.

Widened eyes shot to the door that creaked open, and your heart soared. A rare occurrence that Viktor would make it home before you had fallen asleep. Adjusting yourself, you pulled your hands from your body and stood up, the slick between your legs coating your panties and seeping through to the satin fabric of your sleep shorts.

“Hi, baby,” you chirped, voice laced with lust as hands haphazardly fixed your hair that knotted from your position on the couch. You were uncertain why physical presentation mattered when your lover’s face was covered in signs of exhaustion. Dark under eyes, tousled hair, and buttoned shirt untucked.

He looked far too good to remain casual. Fuck, you were feral.

Viktor locked the door behind him, a smile gracing his lips as soft eyes settled upon you and his weight shifted back to his cane, “Still up? I hope you weren’t waiting for me.”

Your eyes flickered to the clock, it was well past midnight.

“No,” you shook your head, wondering if your hot cheeks and heavy breaths hinted at your previous state. Surely, he noticed. “Just�� couldn’t sleep,” you lied.

Oh, he noticed.

Interest flickered in his eyes, and a curiosity settled in his chest, but gods, he was tired. He couldn’t even think straight, surprised that he hadn’t fallen asleep at his desk in the lab like he had two nights before.

Viktor stepped forward, cane clicking along the wood, and he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, “I’m sorry, love,” his gentle words heavy on your heart, “I’m exhausted.”

Two impatient hands flew to his vest, fingers toying with the buttons eagerly.

“Viktor,” you whimpered, pulling your head back so you could look into his eyes, pleading.

It was an unusual act to see you standing before him with your knees quaking as you begged. His cock stirred in his slacks, hardening at the mere sight of you acting so pitifully, ready to do whatever you needed to earn his attention. 

“I need you,” you mewled, fingers beginning to undo the buttons of his vest. Shaky fingers expertly removed each one with practiced ease.

“I–shit,” he hissed, cheeks burning a deep red as you began to sink onto your knees once his vest popped open.

“–Please, I’ll be quick.”

Viktor didn’t make any moves to stop you, his free hand lifting to cover the bottom half of his face as you dug past his belt. A moan muffled behind his fingers when his cock sprung free from the layers of clothing that had felt far too restrictive, and he fell back against the closed door. Your eager hands stroked him, milking out the pre-cum that you lapped up greedily on your flattened tongue.

He whimpered, cane discarded to the floor as he worked hard to keep his knees from buckling beneath him. Your only response was to keep going, lips wrapping around his cock as you took him in as far as you could. A repetitive movement as you bobbed your head and swirled your tongue around him, and fuck, you loved his moans.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering as they rolled back, a hand reaching down to grab at your hair to coax you along him. Pushing himself down your throat, knowing very well you could take it.

You choked on him, the gags and whines from your throat sending heat right into his gut. The coil in his abdomen tightened as you swallowed around him, trying to milk out his cum that you were desperate to taste on your tongue. 

You were deserving of it, weren’t you?

Two hands pressed to his bare thighs, scratching at his pale skin as tears stung your eyes when he hit the back of your throat. You were greeted by a pleasantly hard tug in your hair, yanking your mouth from his cock just as he felt himself hit his release.

Groaning deep in his chest as he grabbed the base of his cock with his other hand, stroking as the splattering of hot cum decorated your face. He had been pent-up for so long that it didn’t seem to end, strings of it clinging to your tongue that you had cheekily stuck out, over your closed eyes and down your chin and jaw.

A pretty little painting.

Viktor was rendered breathless, his hand slowing as his cock twitched, and the remaining cum he pushed out dripped down to the floor between your knees.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hardly able to make the words come to fruition through his heavy breaths.

Your eyes opened, smiling blissfully up at your lover.

“Let me fuck you, and I’ll forgive you.”

[hippolotamus]

Tagged by my love @disasterbuckdiaz (with a super hot snippet) @daffi-990 (with a whole lotta feels) @tizniz (with a super cute new fic 🦖) @buddierights (with a sweet fic of V-day past) thank you lovelies 💖

Today I bring you two snippets because Fuck It, amirite??? The first is because I was rewatching Fellow Travelers last night and a moment in Episode 2 hit me like a freight train.

But then the skit starts.

Caroline and Carlos, dressed in a suit and skirt respectively, playing as a couple having dinner at home. Caroline sits at a small table while Carlos stirs an empty pot of imaginary soup.

Even though it’s all pretend, the whole scene is so terribly, achingly domestic. A reminder of an unattainable dream. Within seconds Tim feels as though he is submerged, drowning in heartache. It fills his lungs, taking up precious space where air should be. Every silently jagged breath burns as he tries to take in oxygen, but only receives more pain. He doesn’t know how he’s not making a spectacle of himself, attracting attention to the way his heart cracks, just short of breaking completely.

It is a relief when Carlos approaches him, holding out the wooden soup spoon. The gesture is silly but provides a much needed reprieve. Tim finds it in himself to be able to laugh again as he’s fed the invisible offering. A bright feeling that bursts forth, genuinely happy as it displaces his gloominess.

When Carlos and Caroline have bickered and teased their way to the ending, they bow and curtsy as the group claps and cheers. Some even call for an encore. Instead Caroline insists Mary put a record on so everyone can dance.

A lesser version of Tim’s earlier distress settles over him like a thick fog. It blankets him in loneliness while he watches Mary and her lover sway to the music, holding each other close with their cheeks pressed together.

Snippet #2 is noticeably more zesty (any guesses from the banner???) but with no fewer feels. Find a bit of honey, when you call my name under the cut 😏 Hoping this one will be posted very soon.

“You okay?” Buck’s face is etched with such concern and care it makes Eddie’s chest tight. A squeezing around his heart that makes him wish he could pull it from behind his ribcage. To clutch it in his palms while he shows off all the places Buck’s mended and healed for him. A way to prove that Eddie is more than okay, and only improving as they continue to intertwine their lives together.

“Yeah, baby. I’m good.” Eddie lifts his head, angling his neck so he can kiss Buck again. He pours all of his gratitude and overwhelm into it, hoping the message is clear. That their unique brand of silent communication applies here as well.

It must because Buck continues to slide in, albeit slowly. He goes inch by inch, periodically checking in with a questioning look that Eddie returns with a small nod until Buck’s fully seated. And it feels… unusual. Not in a bad way, but an altogether different sensation than the times he’s fucked himself with his fingers or a toy. Of course it would be, because it’s Buck. It’s novel and precious and life changing. An event that Eddie would scribble in his diary if he had one. But at the same time — it’s Buck. So it’s also an inevitable homecoming, like being able to finally set down his burdens and breathe a sigh of relief.

“So good, Buck,” Eddie tells him before the question can be asked, because he knows it will be. He can see it in the infinite blue staring back at him, sparkling with affection and love.

Buck dips his head down, brushing their noses together, and Eddie doesn’t miss how bright, sunny blue turns darker, like dusky twilight.

“Gonna move as soon as you say so,” Buck murmurs against his lips. “‘ve wanted to fuck you for so long.”

Eddie’s belly swoops and his muscles clench in anticipation. Because it’s a two way street and this has been years in the making for both of them.

“Oh, yeah?” Before Buck can answer he tacks on, “Do it then. You’re not the only one waiting here, y’know.”

He’s rewarded with a mischievous smirk just before he feels Buck pull back. A moan — closer to a growl — rips out of him when Buck thrusts forward again, making him feel so, so full and whole. Complete.

no pressure tagging @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @jesuisici33 @diazsdimples (I know you have something to share by now!) @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley @monsterrae1 @buckaroosheart @indestructibleheart @thewolvesof1998 @loserdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @elvensorceress @honestlydarkprincess @spaceprincessem @apothecarose @barbiediaz @chaosandwolves @eowon @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hoodie-buck @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @statueinthestone @singlethread @the-likesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @watchyourbuck @your-catfish-friend @vanillahigh00 and anyone else who wants to share

[calpalirwin]

Pushing Limits

Summary: Bucky reminds you of who’s in charge. 

Content: female masturbation, edging, fingering, phone sex, oral sex (fem receiving), sex, choking, dom!Bucky, after care

Word Count: 2.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

You didn’t stop to think twice as you sent Bucky the small video clip of you getting yourself off. 

But you should have. 

Halfway across the world, Bucky’s phone pinged in his pocket. The smile that crossed his face at the notification from you quickly turned to a stifled groan as the audio of your soft panted moans, finger fucking yourself, and then the small cry of “Bucky,” sounded in his ears. 

Quickly he called you. “Did I say you could do that?” he asked, his tone low and sharp the second you picked up.

“Hi, Buck. Love and miss you, too. How’s the mission?”

“Did I say you could do that?” was all he repeated in a tight growl.

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”

“Well, I hope you had your fun.”

“Oh…” you sighed dreamily. “I did. Still be more fun if you were here to help me out though. Your fingers are so much thicker than mine,” your voice was a teasing taunt as you dipped your hands between your thighs. “Wish you could see how wet that makes me,” you breathed into the phone’s speaker as you slowly inserted a finger in your pussy.

“Y/N,” came the warning.

“Mmm, Bucky,” you moaned, pumping your finger faster.

He let out another growl, feeling his jeans tighten. “Enjoy it, doll. Cuz that’s gonna be your last orgasm for a while.”

“Oh, shit…” you mumbled, immediately pulling your hand away, knowing he was dead serious. “Buck, I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized.

“I’ll be home tonight, and we’ll see just how sorry you are then.”

“Bucky, please! You’ve been gone two weeks!”

“Yeah. And I was really looking forward to making it up to you for being gone. I thought you were my good girl, doll… Such a shame…”

“I am!” you whined, not able to stand the disappointment in his voice. “Bucky, I’m sorry!”

“You’re only sorry because you got caught. If you hadn’t sent that video I never would’ve known, and tonight you’d be getting more orgasms than you could handle. Again… what a shame.”

“It was a present!” you tried to explain your way out of trouble. “Bucky… please.”

“I’ll see you tonight, Y/N.”

No “doll”. No “I love you”. No “can’t wait to see you”. Fuck… you really should have thought twice.

~~~

In an effort to get Bucky to believe that you genuinely were sorry and seek sympathy, you set about cleaning up the apartment, making sure his favorite meal was on standby for when he got home, and, as a last ditch effort to make him reconsider his earlier threat, changed into one of his shirts. The shirt held traces of his cologne, and was long enough to cover your ass, while being short enough to reveal how you were only in his shirt.

Then, there was nothing to do but wait, and hope that the anticipation of his homecoming would be considered punishment enough.

“Doll, I’m home,” Bucky called out, the front door clicking shut behind him, and the sound of boots and a duffle bag hitting the floor.

“In here,” you answered back from the kitchen.

You listened as his footsteps got closer, then his hands were on your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, his lips finding a home along your neck. “Mmm, missed you, doll,” he murmured against your skin.

“Missed you too,” you said with a giggle, turning in his arms to face him, looping your own arms around his neck. “I got you your favorite if you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” was the confession. “But I have something else in mind.”

“Oh?” you asked, a smile coming to your lips as you took note of the lust swirling in his eyes. Maybe the flight home had made him rethink. Maybe the two weeks apart was overriding whatever disappointment still lingered. Maybe forgiveness had already been granted.

“Bedroom. Now.”

You didn’t dare disobey now, quickly detangling yourself from him, and heading for the bedroom.

Similarly, Bucky wasted no time following after you. Wordlessly, he guided you to the bed, your back hitting the mattress as your feet stayed planted on the floor. The action caused his shirt to ride up on you, the hem stopping tantalizing so just above your exposed pussy. “No panties, huh?” he asked, leaning down over you as one of his fingers brushed through your folds, slickness already gathering on his fingertips. “Who made you this needy, doll?” His voice was sickly sweet as he popped the finger in his mouth, tasting you.

“You, Bucky,” you answered, already breathless.

He hummed his approval at your response as he sank to his knees in front of you. His hands gripped into your thighs, spreading apart your legs for him, your pussy lips parting slightly, but still clinging together with small threads of your wetness. “Spread yourself for me, doll,” he commanded in a low tone.

You brought down your hands to hold your pussy open for him, a shudder going through your body as his tongue swiped across your core. “Bucky,” you moaned softly, arching your hips to meet his mouth.

His hands tightened on your thighs, pining you into place as his tongue skillfully worked you over. The scratch of his beard when he moved, and each flick of his tongue was enough to drive you mad after the two weeks apart. And when his lips wrapped around your clit and two of his fingers teased at your entrance, you were ready to come undone for him. “Fuck! Bucky! Mmmm!” you called out, hips rising to follow the movements of his mouth.

“You gonna cum for me, doll?” his voice sent vibrations throughout your body.

“Mhm! Yes! Please, please, PL-!”

In a swift motion, his fingers and mouth pulled away.

“Bucky…” you wanted to cry as you were left empty and unfulfilled.

He laughed darkly as he rose to his feet, leaning his body over yours to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” he cooed in your ear.

“That was mean,” you told him pitifully.

“Aw, poor baby. I’m sorry. Want me to make it up to you?”

Not sure if he was mocking you or not, you only nodded.

He joined you on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, and spreading his legs. “Come sit with me,” he said, patting the empty space for you to fit in his lap. His voice was soft, and inviting, and you willed yourself to believe that the worst was over as you shifted to sit with him, your back pressed to his chest. “You okay?” he asked, his fingers tracing lightly over your throat.

You wanted to say no. That your pussy ached for him and your denied orgasm. But instead, you nuzzled your nose against the underside of his jaw, before stamping it with soft kisses. “Mhm,” you murmured.

“Good.” His hand trailed from your throat to your stomach. Your breath hitched as his fingertips ghosted across your clit. “No,” came the stern demand as his other hand pressed your hips back down when you started to lift them.

“Please?” you breathed, digging your hands into his thighs, your eyes fluttering shut. “Please?”

“Please what?” he asked, his finger teasing your entrance once again.

“Please make me cum.”

“You wanna cum for me?” His finger slowly pumped in and out of your pussy, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

“Mhm.” You tried your best to keep still for him. “Please, Bucky? Wanna cum for you.”

“Yeah?” He slid in a second finger. “You wanna cum all over my hand like a good girl?”

“Yes!” you cried out eagerly as his fingers started to fuck into you at a unrelenting pace. “Yes! Bucky! Ooooohhhh, please! Please, Bucky, I’m so close!”

He felt the quiver go through your legs, and when your mouth dropped open, a long moan ripping out of your throat, he pulled his hand away, slapping harshly at your clit. “Only good girls get to cum, and you’re not a good girl.”

Your eyes snapped open, a sob stuck in your throat. “Bucky,” you whimpered, twisting in his lap to look up at him. “Please, I’ll be good. I’m sorry. I was trying to do something nice for you. I didn’t mean to make you mad. Please, Bucky, I wanna be your good girl again.”

He mulled your words over, as he looked you over. Your hair was a wild mess from thrashing against him. Your eyes glistened with the unshed tears that came from two denied orgasms, and your own hurt that he was still disappointed and mad. And every so often the muscles in your legs twitched with how sensitive the rest of your body was growing. You were absolutely ruined by him and he still hadn’t even let you cum yet. An orgasm would split you wide open at this point. Could your body handle it?

He became aware of his own body at that point, his cock throbbing against the constraints of his jeans which were now uncomfortably tight around him. Shit… could he handle it?

“Bucky?” you asked in a small voice, drawing him out of his thoughts, your fingers playing with the dog tags around his neck.

“Hmm?”

“Please? We can both cum.”

“Oh, we can, can we?”

“Mhm,” you said, moving to straddle his lap more properly, rubbing your bare core against his jeans. “We can cum for each other, Bucky,” you elaborated, slowly rocking your hips, his dog tags clenched tightly in your fist.

His hand wrapped around your throat, “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? You like to cum all over my cock while I fuck you senseless?”

“Yes, please,” you gasped, rocking your hips more.

A giggle left your lips as he knocked you onto your back, his hands quickly freeing him from his jeans. “Who do you cum for, doll?” he asked, swiping his cock through your folds to coat himself.

“You, Bucky.”

“Does that mean you get to cum without my permission?” He pushed his cock into you.

“N-No, Bucky,” you gasped at the stretch.

“So next time you wanna cum and I’m not home, you’ll ask me, right?” His hands dug into your thighs, as his hips snapped into you.

“Y-Yes, Bucky.”

“And what were you thinking about when you were getting yourself off earlier, hmm? What thoughts could possibly be filling that pretty head of yours to make you that needy?” The slow pace would almost be torturous if it wasn’t for the force of each of his thrusts driving his cock deep into you.

“You, Bucky!” Your voice was high, and if he kept asking you questions, you weren’t sure how many more answers would be coherent. You felt your eyes flutter shut, your mouth falling open.

“Cuz who’s the one who makes you feel this good?”

You worked your throat to answer him, but all that same out was a low moan of pleasure.

“Look at me,” he instructed, his hand wrapping around your throat again. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-you,” you forced out, opening your eyes to look up at him.

“That’s right,” he grinned proudly, picking up speed. “Cuz you’re my good girl, right?”

“Your good girl,” you moaned out with your own smile. “Bucky’s doll.”

“Ffffuuuucccckk,” he groaned, throwing his head back as your pussy clenched tightly around him. “You take me so well, doll. Such a good girl for me.”

Whimpered moans fell freely from your lips at his praise, as you felt your orgasm building, and you hoped he’d let you have this one. “Gonna cum,” you told him.

“Yeah?” His pace grew as relentless as his fingers had been, driving you closer and closer to the edge. “You gonna cum all over my cock?” His hand dropped from your throat to rub fast circles at your clit.

“Really want to. Please? I’ve been so good, Bucky. Please?” you begged, needing permission before you exploded.

“Cum for me, doll,” he finally said, and you shattered around him with a scream. “Fuck!” he yelled out with you, his own release spilling. “Fuck,” he chuckled, his chest heaving. “Oh, fuck.”

You grabbed his dog tags, tugging him down towards you for a kiss. “Never say I’m not a good girl, again.”

“Aw,” he chuckled again, pulling his cock out of you, and peppering your face in soft kisses. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Yes. And your punishment was really mean.”

“Mmm, but consider how hot it was for me to watch you come undone.”

“You can make me come undone without making me cry, Bucky.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. How about,” he started to suggest, kissing a path down your body, “I give you back those two orgasms I stole?”

You shivered, your hands bunching up in his hair and tugging sharply. “I don’t think I can handle anything more right now, Bucky. Rain check?”

“Rain check,” he agreed with a nod, becoming aware of his own exhaustion. “Think you can stand for a shower, or should I run us a bath?”

“Bath, please. My legs feel like jell-o.”

“Okay,” he said with a last chuckle, and a last kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m glad you’re home, Buck.”

“Me too, doll. Me too.”

__

Tag List

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[cursestothemoon]

Hi Charly! Could you do a headcannon about Fred and his virgin girlfriend having sex for the first time? But she’s feeling self conscious because he’s more experienced and she’s worried about not being as good as his past partners not me projecting or anything 🙃

as a virgin who cant drive this request really resonates with me

welcome to the fred show pew pew

ill stop.

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

warnings:NSFW, vaginal penetration, loss of virginity, fingering

ok so

first i wanna get into fred before you came around

his sex life specifically

i think fred likes to have fun

nothing wrong with that

so yeah he's been around the block

a few times

so he knows what he's doing when it comes to sex

he takes pride in how good he is honestly

but i also think his first time wasn't all that

he probably lost his virginity rather young

14 maybe 15

the girl was 16 maybe 17

and he kind of pressured himself to lose his virginity after hearing his amazingly cool older brothers talking about 'this bird i shagged...'

it was bill

and fred loves bill

idolizes bill

so in his efforts to be just like him he had to lose his virginity

which he did

but he was beyond nervous and fidgety

he's almost certain the girl felt so bad she lied and said she finished when really he was in there for two minutes TOPS

but he got better over time

also he made sure that the person he was with finished first because he's still a little embarrassed abut that first time

george is the only person who knows about his first time, he didn't want anyone else to know

ESPECIALLY bill

anyway

so by the time you guys start dating fred is very experienced in the bedroom

you are not

you are a virgin

thats ok

😌

i feel like fred would just assume your not a virgin if you didn't tell him otherwise

because 1) you are drop dead gorgeous and could get it literally any time you wanted

and 2) he just assumes everyone does it unless told otherwise

you would be talking one day and somehow your first times would come up and fred would go beet red and admit how terrible it was for him

and then you'd kinda just 🙂

because you don't have a first time story

fred would not catch on at first

he would be very confused

then you'd go pink and come out with it

"...i'm a virgin, freddie."

he was honestly surprised

but once he noticed how genuinely uncomfortable you were admitting it, like it was something bad

he'd go into protective, comforting freddie mode

would go above and beyond to tell you that it wasn't a bad thing at ALL and he wishes he would've waited

and then he goes

"now that i know, i'm going to make sure your first time is amazing, love."

then he'd kinda just pause and go red again as he thought about what he said

"i mean, assuming you'd want your first time to be with me. totally cool if not, but i reckon that would be rather odd considering we are dating... unless you are breaking up with me...wait don't break up with me."

you'd just giggle and pull him into a kiss

"i want my first time to be with you, only you."

"i am so glad we are on the same page."

ok fred would go ALL OUT to make sure your first time was amazing

unforgettable

and you ARE finishing.

it would be over summer

you're staying at the burrow for the next month

and fred has it all planned out

you had told him you were ready a few weeks ago and he told you he wanted to surprise you for your first time

so you've just been waiting

he'd set up a cute little tent in the meadows of the burrow

string up some lights in the trees

plethora of blankets and pillows in said tent

wait i forgot their tents are like huge inside

aW WAIT IT WOULD BE LIKE A WHOLE CUTE LITTLE ROOM

STOP🥺

anyway

he'd have some food

some water

many condoms

he's so excited

oK so the sun would just be setting

and fred says he has something to show you outside

he also knows with a full house no one is going to come looking for you two, but just in case george knows the plan and is there for damage control just in case

so you go out with fred and hes practically skipping and hes all giggly

and you are starting to feel his giddiness so you guys are just this giggly mess together

then he gets to the spot

the sex tent

and it's beautiful

you are blown away

and he is just so happy seeing you happy

so you guys eat a little

talk

have some fun

he will feed you food to be romantic

you will get a grape dropped down your shirt

fun times all around

and then your eyes kinda lock

and his are all crinkly from laughing

his freckles just a bit more prominent in the summer season

you are suddenly hit with this intense feeling of love

how much you are in love with him

how much he's in love with you

and you're sure you've never been more ready than you are right now

fred is feeling floaty

you are looking at him with this look in your

and it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy

he'd reach out to cup your cheek, his thumb gently running across your cheek bone

then he'd pull you closer and rest his forehead against yours

your nose would brush and he'd run the tip of his nose along your nose before placing a kiss on it 🥺

you push forward and capture his lips in a kiss

and its on.

he pulls you into his lap

you guys are in heavy a make out

his hands are on your ass

your hands are in his hair

then he pushes you closer with his hands on your butt

the feeling of his hardening cock in his trousers against your clothed clit has you shuddering because jesus christ almighty

you've never felt anything like that before

you whimper into his mouth and fred is sure he's died and gone to heaven

so he does it again

after a few more times youre moving your hips on your own accord

you'd never admit to him that you'd fantasized about this very moment

in this very position

but instead of him it was a pillow you were grinding against

anyway

you guys moved to the bed in the tent

fred pulls away and he's holding your face in his hands so gently and looking at you with so much love

"I need to know that you are completely certain that you want this. I need you to be absolutely sure, love."

"I want this. I want you."

there was no hesitation in your voice

so he'd slowly take off both your clothes making sure that at any given moment he's got more off then you to make sure you never feel uncomfortable or embarrassed

so like if you've got your shirt off, fred has his off two and is working on his pants THEN he'd move your pants

now you are in your bra and underwear

he's in his briefs

and he can't help but take you all in

your skin

your curves

each dip and line

everything about you is just so beautiful

and he's just barely touching you as he's dragging the back of his fingers down from your neck to your belly button just watching as your skin erupts in goosebumps

he's never seen anything so beautiful

i think it was in that moment that he knew, no matter what, he would always be in love with you

all of you

he looks for your approval before reaching behind you and unhooking your bra

when your bra comes off thats when you get the butterflies in your belly

and lets be honest

on the inside

fred's a mess

like he might get choked up

regardless

the tiddies are out

fred leans down and starts to place slow, loving, kisses across the skin of your chest and in the crook of your neck before trailing them down to your breasts

you let out a shaky breath as he takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth

his hand moving to tease the other one

he's sucking and licking the sensitive nub making you breathless

then he'd drag his tongue down to your belly button then just below it before sucking a hickey onto your hip

he'd KISS IT AFTERWARDS TOO 🥺

he'd look up at you silently asking if you were ok and if he could remove your panties

you nod

youre nervous and excited and just ready

so he pulls off your underwear

and suddenly you feel very naked

but you also feel more comfortable than you ever thought you would

because it's fred

and he's your best friend

and he's just so

comforting

and you'd trust him with your life

so its a positive experience

his brings his thumb to rub gently circles on your clit before running two fingers up your slit to collect your juices

you let out a breathy moan as he slides a single digit into your entrance

his head is resting on your thigh placing sweet kisses on the skin as he adds in a second finger

his other arm is hooked around the thigh that his head is resting against, with his hand falling just close enough to your cunt that he can rub slowly, tight circles on your clit

you cum pretty quickly from fred's intense, intimate fingering

and he makes sure to make a show of putting his fingers in his mouth moaning at the taste of your release

he moves up to your lips, pulling you into a kiss

and you can taste yourself on his tongue

and there is something so erotic about it

that has your pussy clenching

ok so he pulls off his boxers and you audibly gulp

he's

l a r g e

and he notices your apprehension

he doesn't want to lie and say its not going to hurt

because in all honesty it might hurt

fred presses a calming kiss to your forehead as he lines himself up with your entrance

"im going to go slow, alright. if at you want me to stop tell me, ok, bunny?"

"ok, i might be bad at this."

"never"

aND HE'D SAY IT WITH SUCH A SWEET SMILE AND THIS LOVING TONE

BECAUSE YOU COULD NEVER BE BAD AT ANYTHING EVER IN FRED'S EYES

ESPECIALLY THIS

BECAUSE HE THINKS YOU ARE LITERALLY PERFECT

AND HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH

anyway

it does hurt a bit

its uncomfortable

you do get a little teary because of the dull burn of the stretch

and fred's heart aches seeing the way your face screws up in discomfort

but after a few minutes

and a few kisses from fred

youre ready for him to start moving

he starts off slow

the pain is starting to dissipate

and it begins to feel really good

like really good

i forgot to mention it earlier but fred IS wearing a condom

back to the story

so pretty soon you guys are enjoying yourselves

fred is kissing on your neck and lips

youre tugging on his hair and letting out breathy moans and whimpers into his ear

you cum a second time before fred spills into the condom

he slowly pulls out

and the feeling of emptiness after he does so is your new least favorite feeling

you are just craving to be near him, to be impossibly close

he pulls you into his side and starts peppering kisses along your hairline

and his fingers are running up and down your back

and hes just holding you so tight

stop🥺

"i love you, bug."

"love y'too, freddie."

your slurred words made it lear to him that you were starting to fall asleep

you guys would have to wake up super early the next morning and sneak back into the house

and you'd both be super giggly and cuddly and just hanging off each other

fred wouldn't want to let you go and would pull you back into him every time you tried to leave and go into ginny's room (where you were staying)

aW then for the next few days you guys just cant keep your hands off each other

and you both are so in love

sHUT UP I LOVE FRED WEASLEY

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinruby003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

@onlyfreds

[captain-josslett]

Broken Melody - Part Thirty Five

Masterlist

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 4.1k+

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Injury

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers x Sam Arias

This Part: Has the surgery been a success?

Man, sorry for the delay. Life has been hectic here and thankfully my Dad is okay. Despite having a mini heart attack and not being happy about the new meal plan and exercise he is doing 😅 I'm already 2k in on part 36... so hopefully won't be too long

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated. Please! I like knowing your thoughts.

Taglist: @finleyfray, @life-is-hella-unfair, @natasha-danvers, @supergirl-writingz, @camslightstories, @thinking1bee, @aznblossom

Lena holds her breath, along with everyone else in the room, as they watch Emma open her mouth.

‘Please work, please work, please work, please work, please, please, please.’ Lena wishes over and over, trying not to squeeze Emma’s hand too tight with her nerves.

But nothing happens.

Only the sound of her breath emits from Emma’s throat.

At this realisation, Lena’s stomach drops. She immediately schools her expression and tries to keep the devastation off her face as pained hazel green eyes snap to hers.

“Okay.” Doctor Sloan’s voice is calm despite the growing tension in the room. He pours some water into a cup and holds it out for Emma to take. “Have some water and try again.”

Lena observes the slight shake in Emma’s hand as she reaches out and takes the cup, lifting it to her lips. Wincing as the cool liquid slides down her swollen throat.

Taking another deep breath Emma slowly opens her mouth again and tries to make any sound.

Nothing comes out.

Doctor Sloan begins talking, his voice is soft and reassuring but all Lena can hear is the blood pumping around her ears and she lowers her head.

‘This is your fault.’ Her mind whispers cruelly to her. ‘If you hadn’t left her that day, if you had been there this wouldn’t have happened, if you had been enough-’

A scrape of a chair makes Lena’s head snap back up. Seeing Eliza jump up quickly and hold a clearly distraught Emma in her arms.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Eliza whispers into Emma’s ear as her daughter nuzzles her face into the crook of her Mom’s neck. Her mouth opens in silent sobs, her breath coming out in pained gasps.

Lena peers behind her, Alex, Kara, Lucy and Sam have disappeared from the room. Nia has her head in her hands and Lena can see tears falling to the floor, Brainy and Winn are already looking over their tablets, conversing on the next steps they could do to help. J’onn sadly meets her eyes and goes to sit in the chair Eliza just vacated.

“I don’t care!” Alex’s enraged voice yells from the open door leading into the corridor, making Lena let go of Emma’s hand and stride out of the room towards the other voices of her friends. Promptly closing the door as she steps through it, not wanting it to further stress Emma.

She pauses at the scene in front of her. Alex’s face red with fury, the doctor against the wall with Alex’s arm pressed against his neck. Sam and Kara have their hands on her shoulders to stop her, while Lucy just watches with her arms crossed tightly against her chest and Doctor Hamilton stares at the scene with her mouth open like a goldfish.

“Look, I know you’re upset, I get that.” Doctor Sloan says calmly, trying to soothe the furious redhead. “We knew this surgery might not succeed but others still might, possibly, work. This is a foundation for us to work on, to use different therapies, injections in her neck. There are other options we can use.”

“Alex.” Kara pleads softly, tears brimming her eyes.

“It didn’t work.” Alex gasps out as she shakes with adrenaline.

“Not this time.” The Doctor says with genuine sorrow in his eyes. “But I promise you, I am going to do everything in my power so that one day your sister can talk.”

“And sing.” Lucy narrows her eyes at him.

Doctor Sloan pauses and takes a deep intake of breath. “Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?!” Alex barks, her rage reigniting.

“Babe, that’s enough.” Sam pulls her girlfriend off the Doctor and holds her in an embrace.

“It didn’t work. It didn’t work.” Alex’s muffled voice can be heard weeping out.

Tears prick Lena’s eyes and she clenches her jaw. Slowly she builds up an expressionless mask to hide the devastation she is feeling. A wall to keep her pain in.

She watches as Doctor Sloan turns to leave with Doctor Hamilton and Lena strides after them. Stepping into the CEO, scientist role and out of her girlfriend status.

“Doctor Sloan.” She calls after him, passing her desolate friends on the way.

“Ms Luthor.” He nods at her apprehensively.

“I would like to discuss with you the equipment you used.” Lena motions for him to lead the way to Doctor Hamilton's office to continue their discussion.

Lucy watches her leave with the Doctors and debates about whether she should follow or not.

Deciding against it she turns back to Sam, Alex and Kara. The blonde superhero was now hugging Alex as the two sisters tried to console each other.

Sam and Lucy’s eyes meet and Lucy nods before turning back to go into the room. They will get through this. They have too.

-- -- --

Two Days After The Surgery

Emma is lying on her side in her bed. The room is in partial darkness with the windows being slightly tinted. Not allowing the sunlight to enter all day and distorting the colour of the sunset that she is ignoring.

Her throat feels tight and itchy from the surgery and all Emma really wants to do is sleep to escape the memories of the past few days. To escape to dreams filled with beaches, quiet places and safety.

Not the memories of seeing the devastation written on everyone’s faces. The absolute agony that exploded within her at the realisation that the surgery hadn’t worked.

The way her Mom was the only one who comforted her right away. That Lena had let go of her hand and disappeared, along with her sisters. When all Emma needed and wanted in that moment was to be in her arms. To have Lena’s soothing voice reassure her things will be okay. For her sisters to be sitting on the bed with her and comforting her.

She hears a light knock on the bedroom door but doesn’t move, just keeps staring ahead.

“Love?” Lena’s voice softly calls into the dark room after she pushes open the door. Emma hears the soft patter of Lena’s footsteps on the carpet until Emma feels the bed dips behind her. “Hey.” Lena coos out and wraps an arm around Emma’s waist. “Are you okay?”

‘No.’ Emma thinks but instead she reaches for her girlfriend’s hand and squeezes it three times.

“I love you too, but you didn’t answer my question.”

Emma doesn’t respond, just stares straight ahead at nothing. Her eyes fill, for what feels the millionth time, with tears.

“Em.” Lena’s voice cracks and Emma feels Lena roll her onto her other side. Darkness surrounds Emma as Lena holds her close but Emma doesn’t move.

“Lee?” Kara’s voice quietly calls from the bedroom door and Emma hears two sets of footprints pad over to the bed. “Hi little one.” Kara says softly but Emma keeps her head nuzzled in Lena’s chest.

“Has she been in bed all day?” Alex’s voice queries Lena.

“I- yes, I think so. I did try to get her up earlier but she just lays here.”

Emma hears Alex sigh heavily and feels Alex get on the bed behind her. “Hey peanut.” A hand touches Emma’s shoulder and she unintentionally flinches under her sister’s hand. “Sorry.” Alex’s hand falters for a moment but gently lowers until it's fully resting on her shoulder again. Emma slowly breathes out and forces the tears to not fall.

“Everyone’s here for a Superfriends night. We will do whatever you want.” Kara's voice sounds airy and light but frustration bubbles within Emma. All she wants to do is lay in bed and sleep and not have to perform. To pretend she is okay.

Emma lets out a heavy breath through her nose, to try and release the bubbling frustration she is feeling.

“You don’t have to love. You can stay in here and rest. No one is expecting anything from you.” Lena says softly in Emma’s ear and kisses the top of her head.

Emma nods but stretches against Lena. Signalling she is about to get up.

Seeing this Alex moves off the bed and Emma rolls over and tries to sit up. The room spins, making her flop back into Lena.

The raven haired beauty chuckles, thinking it's due to Emma’s stiff body that she’s fallen back.

“I’ll help you up.” Alex reaches down and takes a hold of Emma’s hands. “On the count of three. One, two, threeee!”

Emma lets Alex help sit her up, also feeling Lena placing her hands on her back in case she falls again. When Alex moves away Emma carefully moves her legs off the bed, squinting her eyes as Lena turns the lights on.

“You are cleared to eat soft foods, so Nia and Brainy made us macaroni and cheese.” Kara says while heading into the walk-in wardrobe to grab Emma some fresh clothes. “I mean, it was Brainy’s idea which was really sweet.” Kara places the clothes by Emma and gives her a small smile.

Emma curves her lips up in response and nods. Wincing at the movement and runs a tired hand through her hair.

“We’ll see you out there.” Alex grabs a hold of Kara’s hand and they leave the room.

“Do you need help changing?” Lena asks beside her, having shuffled across the bed to sit next to her girlfriend.

Emma shakes her head and removes her t-shirt, exposing her naked chest. Making Lena groan.

“I can’t believe we have to wait over a month for me to ravish you.” Lena moans softly and kisses Emma’s cheek. “Good job we fucked in the bath huh?” Lena kisses Emma’s lips and the blonde kisses back. Smirking as Lena runs a hand gently over her chest.

The couple had been prepared that they couldn’t have sex for a while after the surgery. But when Doctor Sloan admitted the time frame to being a month and a half, Lena wanted to punch the Doctor.

Emma turns and raises an eyebrow at her. “I can still please you.”

“I know love. But I want to please you as well.” Lena slowly leans in and tenderly kisses Emma’s lips. “Plus, we do have to be careful.”

Emma lets out a heavy breath as she sighs and nods. Grabbing her clothes she quickly changes into loose jeans and a navy t-shirt with a sloth surfing a wave, while Lena waits on the bed.

“How do you make a simple outfit look so sexy?” Lena smirks at Emma, her eyes bright and glistening.

Emma gives her a small smile in response, which causes Lena’s to drop slightly.

“Hey, come here.” Lena opens her arms and Emma momentarily hesitates before falling into them. “I know this is less than ideal but we will get through this.”

Emma snuggles her head into Lena’s neck and breathes deeply. Allowing the feelings of safety and love to replace the anxiety she was feeling.

“Hey love birds!” Lucy shouts from the living area. “If you don’t come now all the food is gonna be consumed by two and a half cranky Kryptonians!”

“Hey!” Ruby squawks from the other room as Kara and Sam join in.

“Excuse me?!”

“I’m not cranky!!”

“Point proven babe.” Alex laughs and the sound of a light slap follows. “Ow! Hey Emma, help me!”

Pulling away from Lena, Emma quickly gets up and rushes into the living area. Alex is rubbing her arm and rolling her bottom lip forward as Sam shakes her head and chuckles.

“Emma!” Ruby yells and rushes over to the blonde.

“Ruby! Care-”

The teenager collides heavily with Emma, making her dispel a lot of air as she wraps her arms around her.

“-ful.” Sam finishes and rolls her eyes at her daughter. “Seriously that kid.”

Emma hugs Ruby back and smiles at them. When the teen breaks away Emma quickly moves to Alex’s side and wraps her arms protectively around her sister.

“She slapped me.” Alex whines and snuggles closer into Emma.

“Aww baby! I barely touched you.” Sam rubs Alex’s shoulder and sweetly kisses her cheek. Emma kisses Alex’s other cheek and shoots Sam a dirty look, making the brunette laugh. “I promise I won’t hurt her Em.”

Emma quickly nods and Alex nuzzles her nose into the side of Emma’s face.

“So food now?” Kara smiles brightly and lifts the lid on the simmering pan. “Rao, this smells so good!”

“Ooo yummy!” Ruby agrees as she takes in a big sniff of the delicious food.

“Thank you Kara, Ruby.” Brainy nods his head and picks up the spoon to dish the macaroni out.

“Yay!” Kara super speeds into a seat at the extended dining table with Ruby following right behind her. J’onn and Kara have flown in another fold up table and chairs so everyone could sit around a table together and eat.

Emma lets out a heavy snort through her nose as she watches her sister and the teenager.

“May they never change.” Alex laughs and moves to get everyone's drinks.

“Emma! Come sit next to me!” Ruby pats the vacant chair next to her. Emma grins slightly and goes to run over to them. Suddenly the room shifts and morphs around her.

‘Fuck no!’ Emma’s eyes go wide and she tries to avoid crashing into the table. Instead she trips on a chair leg, sending it flying and causing herself to slide across the floor, hitting her head on the back of the sofa.

“EMMA?!” A chorus of voices cry out her name and many rush over to her.

‘Ow.’ Emma moans, quickly sitting up with a cheerful smile on her face to show she was okay. But a blush colours her cheeks, showing her embarrassment.

“Stay down!” Alex orders furiously, her worry giving away to anger and Emma freezes as her sister kneels in front of her. “I need to check your wound.” She snaps and reaches out to pull the plaster away.

“Alex, wait!” Lena shouts urgently while kneeling next to her. She gently takes Emma’s hand and helps her sit fully up against the back of the sofa. “Deep breaths for me okay?”

Catching on to what Lena is trying to do, Alex’s face softens. “I’ll be gentle.”

Emma nods and focuses her eyes on Lena’s as Alex slowly pulls the band-aid off.

“Wow, this is actually healing really well.” Alex mutters and gently presses certain parts of Emma’s neck for any tears in the stiches, causing Emma to tighten her grip on Lena’s hand. Trying to keep herself grounded in the present.

“So, I was thinking-” Lena begins talking, seeing how Emma’s eyes were starting to glaze over and wanting to stop Emma’s nosedive into an episode. “Maybe we should take that trip soon?” Relief fills her as Emma’s eyes are able to focus on her and her eyes start to brighten with interest. “Go somewhere like the Maldives to unwind, swim in the sea, snorkel and you know-” Lena coughs lightly and lowers her voice towards Emma’s ear. “Other things.”

A quick puff of air escapes Emma’s lips as she voicelessly snorts.

“What like food?” Kara pipes up as she watches them from the table, having frozen in shock at Emma’s fall.

“Yes Kara, especially the food.” Alex says sarcastically and rolls her eyes at Emma, causing the blonde to grin. “Can someone get me a wi-”

“Here you go babe.” Sam appears in a blur and hands Alex a cleansing wipe and a new neck plaster.

“Thanks.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Ruby asks nervously to her Mom.

“Yes Rubes she is.” Sam hugs her daughter reassuringly and ushers her back to her seat.

Alex does the task quickly and soon everyone is sitting around the table eating the meal Brainy and Nia had made while listening to Winn’s story about successfully stopping a bank robbery with James.

“And then the idiots decide to run while-”

“I swooped in and pummeled the sons of bitches and-”

“James! Children present!” Sam barks.

“Moooom!” Ruby whines but motions for James to continue.

Emma’s eyes quickly move to Winn and watch him deflate back into his chair as James takes over the story. As if sensing her gaze Winn looks up at her and Emma lifts her mouth into a smile. The corner of his mouth lifts up and he nods before shoving more food in his mouth.

“Sweetheart?” Eliza quietly catches her attention from across the table. “You need to eat some more.”

Emma glances down at her bowl of food and realises she’s barely touched it. Lowering her fork Emma scoops up a few pieces of macaroni and slowly chews it. The pain almost makes her wince but Emma doesn’t want to seem ungrateful for the kind gesture Nia and Brainy did for her.

Her Mom nods and smiles at her before turning back to J’onn to continue their conversation.

Emma continues picking at her food and listens to the different exchanges happening around the table. Her stomach pinches as she wants to join in the conversations but knows the rhythm of communications will severely slow down while she signs and someone speaks her words out for her.

Instead Emma keeps her head down and continues eating, imagining different melodies and lyrics for songs. Her fingers softly moving against the surface of the table as if she is playing ivory keys.

If anyone notices Emma’s subdued mood, they leave her be. Putting it down to fatigue from the surgery and emotional exhaustion from the aftermath.

Lena does slip her left hand under the table and rests it on Emma’s right thigh, making the blonde jump but Lena soothingly rubs her thumb back and forth, settling Emma  quickly.

“-you think Emma?” Winn’s voice asks, bringing her out of her little music bubble.

“Winn was asking whether we should all go to the carnival next week?” Lena says helpfully having seen Emma snap out of her daze.

But before Emma can even process James pipes up.

“It may have to be the week after, there’s the convention at the arena.”

“Also gives us time to hire it out for a few hours.” Alex nods in thought. “Be nice not to have to wear face modifiers.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Lena nods and smiles.

“That sounds like fun!” Nia claps her hands and beams at the group.

“And talking of next week, as everyone is here, Alex’s moving date is a week tomorrow. If anyone wants to help?” Sam says with a bright smile, causing Emma to smile back and nod.

“Really? That soon?” James enquires, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes, I’m practically spending all my time at Sam and Ruby’s apartment, so it makes sense.” Alex glares right back at her friend.

“And you don’t think you are moving too quickly since-” James jumps as a foot kicks his shin, he turns his head and glares at Winn.

“No, I don’t. Since it was your sister who left me.” Alex responds coolly.

James lifts his glass in surrender. “True. And someone has to keep the typical u-haul lesbians trend alive. Cheers.” He smirks and downs his drink, Alex lifts her beer and salutes him before taking a sip.

The night continues without any more hitches as the superfriends clear the table and a group game of monopoly starts. Emma typically pairs with Lena as her partner and mainly rests her head on Lena’s shoulder as the game progresses.

“What do you think love?” Lena asks, trying to keep Emma involved in the game. “Shall we swap our browns for the green James and Winn are offering?”

Emma nods, seeing it would be a good swap as they already had the two other properties and would create a set.

It was indeed a good move as more and more players land on their properties and Lena gleefully takes their money.

“Thank you kindly!” She smiles brightly as Sam thrusts all of Alex’s and her money, bankrupting them and winning Lena and Emma the game.

“Well done Aunty Lee.” Ruby yawns and copies Emma by resting her head on her Mom’s shoulder.

Lena smiles at the teen and the game is packed away. The group starts saying their goodbyes, all giving Emma reassuring hugs and consoling words.

Soon only Alex, Kara, Lena and Emma are in the apartment. The sisters hover by the balcony door while Lena finishes packing up the dishwasher, having already said her farewells. Kara seemingly held onto her longer than usual as they hugged.

“So, shall we have a sister night here on Friday?” Kara nervously asks as she fiddles with her glasses.

Emma slowly blinks while leaning against the window, feeling her eyes growing heavy, but she nods and smiles sleepily at the thought of a sister's night.

“Yea, sounds good.” Alex agrees and goes to give Emma a hug. “Goodnight peanut.” Emma wraps her arms around her sister and squeezes.

“Goodnight little one.” Kara comes behind Emma and Emma moves her arm back to try and hug her other sister as well.

Emma takes a deep breath, soaking in her warm feelings of love she is getting but immediately a silent yawn escapes her mouth.

“Sounds like someone needs to go to bed!” Alex laughs, Emma leans her head back against Kara’s shoulder and nods. Allowing her eyes to close while her sister’s hold her up.

“Okie dokie.” She hears Kara say and her  smile widens at the phrase until suddenly she is lifted into Kara’s arms.

If she could have used her voice, Emma would have squealed in surprise. Instead a heavy, quick dispel of breath leaves her mouth.

“Sorry little one!” Kara exclaims after hearing Emma’s heartbeat increase in speed and she carries her baby sister into her bedroom. She smiles sadly as Emma wraps her arms around her shoulders and holds on. Alex glances over at Lena who is watching with sadness in her eyes.

“How are you doing Lena?” Alex asks, making Lena’s somber eyes snap to warm brown ones.

“Me?” The raven haired beauty asks, taken aback by Alex’s question.

“Anyone else in this room?” Alex quips and leans on the island.

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Fucked up. Insecure. Neurotic. Emotional.” Alex lists off the familiar phrase and raises her eyebrows at Lena.

Making Lena chuckle. “Sounds about right.”

“But seriously, you know where I am if you ever need me. Kay?”

Lena’s face softens and she swallows deeply. “Thank you. And the same goes for you.”

Alex nods and Kara reappears in the living area.

“Shall we go?” Kara asks and heads towards the balcony, Alex turns to follow her.

“Oh and Alex?” Lena moves around the island to stand in front of the redhead. Making Kara whirl around by the intentive tone of her best friend’s voice.

‘This should be good.’ Kara smirks and watches.

“Yes Lena?” Alex asks and watches as Lena transforms into the powerful CEO and sizes the redhead up.

“As Sam is my oldest and dearest friend, I feel it is my duty to warn you that if you ever hurt her in any way, I will hunt you down and use other methods more painful then you can possibly imagine to hurt you back. Your little finger trick? Has nothing on what I can do.”

Seeing how serious Lena was Alex nods, schooling her expression to not smile. Knowing that Lena does infact mean it and the different ways of torture Lena can conjure up. “I will keep that in mind.”

“Good.” Lena nods then opens her arms to hug the redhead, which Alex gladly accepts. Suddenly a force plows into them, making the pair sway as Kara wraps her arms around them.

“Kara!” Alex laughs and Lena kisses her best friend’s head affectionately.

Soon the sisters finally leave as Kara flies Alex to Sam’s apartment. Lena watches them disappear into the night before closing and locking the balcony door.

“Hope, please turn off all the lights and engage security protocol.” Lena quietly calls out as she makes her way to the dimly lit bedroom.

Her stomach pinches as her eyes focus on a fast asleep Emma propped against the headboard as if waiting for her.

Lena silently steps into the room and closes the door, hearing the whirl of the security locks sliding into place.

Immediately she turns back to her girlfriend and walks softly over to her. Grimacing at the angle of Emma’s neck, imaging the painful tug the blonde will be feeling if she stays in that position for much longer.

Carefully Lena maneuvers Emma’s body to a lying position, the blonde doesn't stir once but immediately curls towards Lena’s side of the bed. Lena smiles sadly and quickly gets ready to join her girlfriend.

Finally she slides under the covers and lays on her side to face the still sleeping Emma.

“Goodnight my love.” Lena whispers, gently kissing Emma’s lips and wraps her arm around her waist.

(Part Thirty Six)

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day thirteen

lev haiba - filming

kinktober faq kinktober prompt list

nsfw warning featuring: sex sex and more sex, picture taking during sexy time, taking pictures = filming right? other tags: established relationship, model!lev, photographer!reader  fem reader

word count: 2264

-

The man in front of you was a model of great renown. An art piece of a man. A face right off of a magazine cover. 

“That’s great, Lev. Face me a bit.” 

And he was yours. 

“These will be perfect for the spring gallery.” 

An art exhibit is nothing without a few masterpieces, and you were just lucky enough to know one well.

“You think so?” 

You nodded, giving him a grin. “Let’s unbutton your shirt a bit.” 

You reached out past your camera with one hand and popped the buttons open, snapping well framed photos as you did so. 

Weeks ago, you went over your plans for this photo gallery with Lev, and as always he was ready to jump all over something new. 

Your theme was simple: capture interaction, attraction, and satisfaction, in the best way you knew how to do so. 

“I can find someone else, if you aren’t comfortable,” you had told him, knowing fully well how he’d respond. 

“Are you crazy? I’m not letting you do any of those things with someone else, no way!” You laughed, but his response was genuine as he continued, “Besides, you want it to be real, right? You’ll have to force it with someone else, and by then you’ll be begging me to be your model so you actually have something worth showing off.”

And what you had with Lev was definitely worth showing off. 

You were expecting a giant turn out and great success with this exhibit, partially because Lev was your subject. Photos of him like the ones you’d be taking today were massively craved by his fans and people in the industry alike; you were using that as your advantage, and he knew that. 

“Let’s just get this off,” you told him, unbuttoning his shirt completely and sliding your hand inside, capturing stills as you caressed his sculpted skin. “Get some sexy shots.” 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Lev laughed. 

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, tossing his attitude right back to him. 

You reached up and kissed him, deep and hard and fast; you had every bit of control as your hand continued to explore, finding its destination at his belt buckle. 

“Already getting hard?” 

You stopped any reply he had with another kiss, this time shorter but just as passionate. 

“Just a few more, baby,” you told him. “I’ll give you what you want soon.” 

You watched as he slowly stripped his shirt away, taking photo after photo as he posed. The lipstick you had kissed onto his lips was accidental, but it shined under the bright lights in a way you liked. And it made you want to kiss him more, to leave his entire body stained red. 

You unbuttoned your own shirt, giving him something to look at besides the camera. 

He whined your name, and you laughed at him. 

“What is it?” 

“I want you!” 

“That’s the point,” and you clicked a photo as if you were punctuating your sentence with it. 

There wasn’t a camera in the world that could totally capture that desperate need for you in his eyes, and you were okay with that. 

Some things were only for you to see. 

You only took a few more shots - your hand cupping his cheek, in his hair, holding onto his hand, undoing his belt; and then, Lev couldn’t take it. 

“Put the camera down,” he said, pushing you back toward the table behind you. He was palming himself over his pants, in need of some relief, and obviously not finding it. “I can’t take it anymore.” 

“Can’t you multitask for five minutes?” 

“No, I can’t,” he replied, wrapping his arms around your waist now that there wasn’t a camera between you. “Not when your body is on full display.” 

“I just love to tease you,” you whispered to him as your lips trailed along the edge of his jawline, leaving marks of lipstick behind. 

Lev couldn’t catch his breath. “Just touch me,” he begged, and you did, at first over his pants but quickly diving underneath. “Fuck - how many more shots do you need?” 

“A few,” you said. “You’ll need to lay down for those, though.” 

“That’s the best idea you’ve ever had - oh, slow down, I’m way too sensitive right now - let’s lay down now. Please.” 

“Go ahead,” you told him. “On the floor.” 

He wanted to question you, but he didn’t, because it wasn’t worth the time. If the floor was his only option right now, so be it. 

You grabbed your camera again, and he groaned in frustration until he remembered what the point of all this was. 

He was laid out before you like an art piece to be admired. And you were going to do more than just that to him. 

“Look at me, Lev.” He did, and you couldn’t tell if he was posing for the camera or if he was being completely natural - he was beautiful in every way you could imagine. And the fact that he was looking at you as if you placed the stars in the sky was only a bonus. 

He was waiting for you. He pulled his pants off before being instructed to and the bulge in his underwear was being presented to you like his body was your throne, and you’d be damned if you didn’t take your rightful seat. 

But the moment you did, he pushed you off. 

“Strip,” he demanded in a whine. “Wanna see you, need to feel you. Don’t tease anymore.” 

You couldn’t help giving in as you watched him pull away his last piece of clothing. “Fine. Hold this then.” 

You handed him your camera and he held it carefully; letting his curiosity get the best of him, he turned it around and pointed it toward you. He looked through the camera’s viewfinder, and what he saw was something far too beautiful for words. 

And he got a picture of it: you, completely unsuspecting, right as your bra fell off. 

“Lev!” 

“What?!” He was laughing, but getting that picture of you turned him on more than he could even explain. “It’s only fair that I get to take some of you. And you’ll have let me have that one, please.” 

You got the rest of your clothes off quickly and took the camera from him before he could take any more pictures of you - this was about his body, not yours. 

“It’s really a shame that you keep yourself hidden behind the camera,” he told you. By now, you had made yourself comfortable straddling him again. “But… I do like keeping you all to myself.” 

“It’s a good thing I’m all yours then.” You rocked your hips, just to see how he’d react. 

It was with a lovely noise, one you wish you were able to capture in a single photo. 

“All mine,” he said through moans. He was bucking his hips wildly, working to get any sort of friction, and the picture you took of him biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut was one you’d get framed for yourself. 

“Fuck, baby, come on,” he said, whispering as if he didn’t have the energy to raise his voice. “What do you want me to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” you said. “Just lay there and let me capture your beauty while I fuck you - can you do that?”

He only just remembered that, right now, he was doing his job - he was being paid to do this, to model while his girlfriend fucks his brains out, and he was thanking his lucky stars that he somehow ended up here. 

“You’re the boss,” he replied, and he was grinning from ear to ear. 

There was one photo you were determined to get, so before anything else, you held your camera up for the perfect frame. 

“Help me out,” you told Lev as you raised your hips, standing up on your knees. 

It took him a second to figure out what you meant, but he got the point; both of your hands were busy, so you needed him to get things started. 

You felt the tip of his cock dip into you, then spread up to your clit; beyond all odds he was the one teasing you now, and you didn’t see it coming, but he was enjoying himself. 

“God, you’re so wet for me,” he moaned, almost like he was talking to himself. “Can’t I just taste you first - please?” 

“No, baby, later - I want to fuck you now,” and his response was a whine that made his offer all the more tempting. “Come on, Lev, put it in for me.” 

He did as he was told, and you cared far more about the look on his face than your own pleasure. With each passing second of you sinking down, he felt more and more of you; his head tossed back, his mouth hung open, his chest frozen with his breath trapped inside. And the silence was filled with the shuttering of your camera, capturing an array of photos you knew would be this collection’s centerpieces. 

As you swirled your hips against his, it was hard to focus on anything else; taking even decent photos was difficult when the only thing you wanted to do was give your all to the man underneath you - and giving your all to him was impossible when you were focused on the camera.

“Stop teasing,” Lev begged, “Just fuck me - please just fuck me - I can’t take it,” and he was pulling on your hips with a tight grip but it wasn’t working, it wasn’t enough. 

You wanted to capture this desperation, this hunger in his eyes, this yearn for you that defined all of his features. You wanted to have it forever, to show it off, to brag that the beautiful man underneath you was yours, the look in his eyes was yours - his pleasure was yours. And you could give and take it as you pleased. 

But the camera was the least of your worries as your hips moved faster, as your body worked harder for him. You were done snapping pictures, at least for now, and he noticed.  

“You have enough,” he told you, and he took the camera from you before you could argue. “Now you can give me what I want and fuck me right.” 

You answered with a swift thrust of your hips, one his hips met you with, pushing the tip of his cock into the deepest parts of you and sending you into a search for finding somewhere deeper. And he loved it, seeing you needing him like he needs you - finally seeing you without a big camera in your face or the spark of work ethic in your eyes. 

You heard the click of the camera and felt his cock twitch in what was sure to be in response to it; you saw where he was pointing the lens and you slowed down, posing for a picture, raising all the way up and falling slow so he could see and capture the length of his cock disappearing right back into you. 

And now he understood what you loved so much about photography. He was trigger happy, taking shots from every angle, never letting up on the button, and it was sending him somewhere he didn’t see coming. 

But you did. “Give it back now, Lev,” and he ignored you, choosing to reach out and touch you instead. He watched his hand through the lens of the camera, he touched you everywhere before settling between your legs, abusing your clit for dozens of photos. 

Both of you were nearing the top now - you could see the peak and you didn’t care about anything else. There’s plenty of time before spring, you’d get the rest of the photos you need later - that photo gallery was at the back of your mind now as you and Lev were working together to reach unseen heights. 

And you were there, just ahead of him and without a warning; his thrusts sent you there, his fingers kept you going, his moans secured you to the top, and you dragged him up with you. 

He let you know he was cumming as he did, but you already knew - you felt it, you could see it. The face he was making would look beautiful with a frame around it, his moans were meant to play on loop, his hands which were hooked onto your hips should be carved out of stone and preserved for centuries. 

He was a beautiful man, an art piece, a face from a magazine - he was yours, only yours, all yours and everyone should know it. 

Everyone would know it. 

“We’ll have to go again,” you said, breathless and panting. “Maybe… two more sessions.”

“Only two?” 

You laughed, “We’ll see,” and then took your camera back from him, snapping one last picture just to tease. 

“You’ll have to let me see all of those,” he told you. “And maybe text them to me.” 

“Next time, you’re not getting a hold of my camera.” 

“Then there won’t be a next time!” 

“I’m sure I can find someone else, then…” 

The face he made was too funny not to take a photo of, and at the click of your camera, both of you laughed. 

And Lev took it back from you, prying it out of your hands, remarking, “It’s later, isn’t it?” 

When you landed on your back, both of you knew that next time was only minutes away.

-

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 13

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Explain again why you’re doing this to yourself, Mulder?” Byers asks with a pained look of concern.

He’s sifting through his closet, deciding what would be appropriately friendly for his outing with Scully. What kind of outfit says “I have no intention of trying to seduce you,” but also doesn’t leave him looking unworthy of seduction?

“I wish I knew, Byers,” he says as he pulls out his Greys jersey. Sports attire is very casual, but Val had once told him that he was devastatingly sexy in this jersey, so he tugs it off the hanger and puts it on over his white T-shirt. “I guess the idea of never seeing her again is even worse than being around her and knowing we’ll never be more than friends.”

Byers shakes his head slowly. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Mulder. Are you sure you aren’t secretly holding out hope that you can steal her away?”

Mulder buttons up the jersey and considers the question, his mouth quirked to the side. “I mean, I’m not actively trying to do anything, she’s way too smart for that and she’d see right through it. But the hope is there, sure.”

Byers nods sadly. “Well, good luck. Here are the keys, by the way.” He pulls a small key ring from his pocket and hands it to Mulder, who deposits it into his jeans pocket.

“Thanks, Byers, I appreciate the favor. I owe you one,” he says, clapping the man on the back.

After Byers is gone he brushes his teeth, considers and then decides against pounding a beer to calm his nerves, then says goodbye to Priscilla and heads to the Hoover building.

Scully is early, leaning against the passenger side door of her car when he pulls into the lot. He lets out a pained moan when he sees her, clad in flared jeans and a peasant-style flowered top that is cinched under her breasts. While he knows that realistically no human is perfect, Scully is about as close as it gets. He tries not to imagine what she’s got on under there, lest he embarrass himself.

He pulls up beside her and she opens the door, smiling at him shyly as she lowers herself into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” she says, and just the greeting makes his heart ache.

“Hey,” he returns with what he hopes is a casual, friendly smile. Do not leer at her. Do not gaze. He’s been giving himself frequent reminders.

“So, what do you have planned?” she asks as she pulls the seatbelt across her lap.

Mulder smirks in reply, backing out of the lot. “All in good time,” he says, and she gives him an appraising look.

“I’m not even sure why I’m instilling so much trust in you here, Mulder. Don’t push it,” she says with a playful tone, though it’s clear there’s some truth to the statement.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you the preliminary details,” He acquiesces. “First we’re going to The Queen Vic, which has the best fish and chips in DC, in my humble opinion. Have you been there?”

She shakes her head.

“Perfect. Then we’ll head down to the wharf and get some ice cream.” He suddenly wonders if he’s made incorrect assumptions about what she likes, and casts her a concerned glance at a stoplight. “Do you like ice cream?”

She looks at him like he has three heads. “Who doesn’t like ice cream?”

He feels a little wave of relief. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who doesn’t like ice cream,” he replies, “but frankly, whoever they are, I have no interest in knowing them.”

She chuckles and there it is again, that ache in his chest. He wonders if it will fade over time.

The Queen Vic isn’t very busy just yet, given that they’re having an early dinner. They are seated at a small, dimly lit booth and each order a beer, fish and chips. Scully opts for an IPA and he feels a retroactive flush of embarrassment at the beer he served her, now knowing what her tastes are. She’s looking around, taking in the ambiance and British paraphernalia papering the walls, and he is looking at her. The cut of her top reveals the soft swell of her breasts, pale and inviting. Even her neck is beautiful, smooth and long and god, he wants to kiss it. Has he ever been taken with someone’s jawline before? Well he has now. Devastatingly beautiful, she is. Ache. Ache. Ache.

She’s looking at him now, and he smiles guiltily, having been caught. Fuck. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that. She bites her lip and fiddles with the salt shaker as though she’s not entirely sure what function it serves. What would a friend do? What would a friend ask? He needs to act like a friend, if he wants to be one.

“So, how’s wedding planning going?” he asks, the words feeling sour in his mouth.

She gives him a quizzical expression. “It’s okay. Fine, I guess.”

He nods. “And how’s Ethan?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um...fine. He’s fine. Mulder...why are you asking me about that? About the wedding, and Ethan?”

He dips his chin a bit, giving the pepper shaker a similar assessment. “I guess I just figured if we’re friends, a friend would ask about things like that?” He chances a glance at her and her expression is sympathetic, perhaps even pitying.

“You don’t need to do that, Mulder. We don’t have to talk about my relationship to be friends.” She’s running her finger over the condensation on the side of her glass, and he finds it disturbingly arousing.

“Fair enough, how’s work? Is that a better topic?” He is rewarded with a smile. My god that smile. She could melt permafrost with that smile.

“Work is great, no complaints,” she says coolly, an apparently genuine answer.

They drink, and eat, and talk. They talk about why she loves teaching, and how she got into pathology. He shares a bit about his methods for starting and then adjusting a criminal profile. They talk about med school, and his time at Oxford. He tells her about Phoebe and she admits a proclivity towards dating older men, with the exception of Ethan. It is so easy between them, and so right. He wants to scoop her up and steal her away in his car. Take her to a faraway place where there is no Ethan, where they can see this thing through. He notices how she often tries to hide her smiles, and the major role her eyebrows play in her facial expressions. She has a little mole above her lip that she’s attempted to cover with makeup, and her fingernails are perfectly manicured, like she has them professionally done. He wonders if she has tattoos, or piercings. If her bellybutton is an innie or an outie. If she prefers breakfast or dinner. If she likes morning sex. If she trims her pubic hair or takes it all off. He wants to know her, every bit. But he can’t. He never will. It hurts to think about it.

He drives them down to the wharf and they get ice cream cones from a stand near the water; she picks cookies and cream and he opts for rocky road. The evening is warm but not uncomfortable, the sun holding steady as it makes its descent towards the horizon. These are the dog days of summer, the daylight stretching well into the evening. No cover of darkness for a lover’s confession, not that he has any business making one. Friends meeting in daylight, above board. Never anything more.

They walk along the boardwalk, continuing their conversation between sweet licks, and he avoids watching her, but not entirely successfully. He must have been putting too much effort towards not staring and too little towards rotating his cone, because suddenly his ice cream flops over the side of its perch and lands on the ground with an audible smack.

He stops walking and stares at the now empty cone in his hand for a beat, and then he hears her giggling. When he looks over to her, she has her hand firmly planted over her mouth while she struggles to contain her laughter, the titters shaking her shoulders gently. The resulting swell of affection is overwhelming.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” he says dryly, and she works even harder to stop laughing, her face contorting into a grimace as tears pool in her eyes, shaking her head as though she could possibly deny her amusement.

He chucks his cone into a nearby trash can, then approaches her.

“Looks like you’ll have to share yours with me,” he says, moving his hand as though to take her ice cream, and she pulls it away with an open-mouthed expression of shock.

“Get out of here, it’s not my fault you licked yours right off the cone,” she says, wiping at her eyes with her free hand.

“Come on, Scully, friends share, don’t they?” he teases, maneuvering around to where she’s moved her arm, swiping at it playfully.

“Mulder, knock it off,” she replies, still smiling, and they are now moving in circles, him towards her ice cream while she artfully moves it out of his grasp.

Suddenly he swoops behind her, his long arms circling her waist and pulling her flush against him, pinning her stationary while he wraps his hand around her wrist and brings her ice cream cone to his own mouth. She shrieks in protest as he steals a big bite, and once he’s accomplished his goal, he becomes aware of their proximity. The feel of her pressed against him, the taper of her waist under his forearm, the smell of her shampoo in his nose. He grips her tighter, ever so briefly, but then releases her suddenly. He has no right. He crossed a line. She steps forward slowly, turning to look at him with pink cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, his arms dropping to his sides, woefully empty. Missing her already.

She shakes her head gently. “It’s okay,” she says, and they continue walking.

As they approach his car, the sun is just beginning to kiss the horizon. It’s nearly 8:30.

“This was really fun, Mulder, thank you,” she says with a shy smile, and he grins at the affirmation.

“There is one more thing I had planned, Scully, unless you have to get home right away,” he says cautiously, and she regards him with surprise, but not unpleasantly so.

“I don’t know, let me call my mother and see if I can stay out past curfew,” she jokes, but then adds “I suppose I’m curious to see what else you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Great, let’s go,” he replies as he opens the car door for her.

———

She watches streetlights racing past as Mulder drives them to their final destination and feels a swell of guilt for how wonderful this night has been, then tries to talk herself out of it. She’s done nothing wrong, nothing inappropriate. She’s allowed to have dinner and ice cream with a man who is not her fiancé; he doesn’t own her. Given, the moment with the ice cream cone was a bit more flirtatious than might be ideal, but they were caught up in the moment. She tries not to remember the feel of his compact body pushed against her back, the strength of his arm around her waist. Tries not to imagine how it would feel to have him hold her like that without their clothes on. She closes her eyes and swallows.

They pull up in front of a darkened sports complex and she turns to look at him, questions communicated through her eyes.

“You don’t have something more worthwhile to do right now than slap a horsehide with a stick do ya, Scully?” he says with a smirk.

Her eyebrows lift. “Perhaps not, Mulder, but it looks like they’re closed.”

“A mere technicality,” he replies as he parks right in front of the main entrance, not even in a parking spot.

They approach the doors and he produces a set of keys from his pocket, holding the door open for her before he locks it behind them. There are security lights faintly illuminating the shuttered games and concessions, and she startles a little when she feels him slip his hand into hers, pulling her towards a hallway. His hand is broad and slightly callused, and she unconsciously threads her fingers through his. He glances at her, a slight cast of surprise in his features, but doesn’t say anything.

When they reach a large room, he flips on the lights and she sees rows of batting cages, five or six lined up on either side of a walkway down the middle.

“Are we supposed to be in here?” she asks him suspiciously, and he shrugs.

“The cops aren’t going to roll up or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says as he gathers a bucket of balls and two bats. “Even if they did, a couple FBI badges should send them off right quick.” He winks at her and she feels a flutter in her belly.

He motions for her to follow him to one of the cages, and she waits nervously while he loads the pitching machine and turns it on. When he turns around, he sees her trepidation and smiles warmly at her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he says reassuringly, and she forces her mouth into a tight smile.

He directs her to stand just outside the cage and demonstrates for her how the pitching machine works, talking her through his stance and movements for seven or eight pitches. He hits every single one, sending the ball crashing into the back wall with a padded smack, and she has the unsettling feeling that she’s about to embarrass herself.

“Alright, batter up!” he says, handing her the bat and sending her in.

She gives him a doubtful look.

“It’s easy, you’ll get the hang of it,” he encourages her, then shows her where to stand before he steps out and starts the pitching machine.

When the first pitch sails by, she winces and lets out a little squeak, but doesn’t swing. She can hear Mulder chuckle a little, but waits for the next one. When it comes, she swings way too early, and it flies past her head and bounces off the back wall. Three or four complete misses later, she looks at him woefully.

“I’m terrible at this, Mulder,” she whines.

He shakes his head and smiles at her.

“You just need some minor adjustments,” he offers, then comes inside the cage. He steps up close behind her and she startles a little at the contact.

“Sorry, is this okay? It’s the best way to show you,” he offers, and she nods, the back of her head brushing against his shoulder with the movement. He’s just showing her how to hit a stupid baseball. It’s the least romantic thing on earth, as far as she’s concerned.

He steps close again, wrapping his arms around hers as the length of his torso presses firmly against hers from her shoulder blades right down to her ass. She can feel his breath hot on her ear as he speaks.

“Now don’t strangle the bat, Scully, just shake hands with it,” he says as their palms brush over one another, vying for real estate. “We want to go hips before hands,” he continues, “stride forward, and then turn.” He motions with a hand in front of her towards the pitching machine, and she nods in confirmation. “It’s hips,” he places an open palm against her hip bone and physically turns her torso. She feels a rush between her thighs. “Before hands,” he replaces his hand on the bat and guides them through a mock swing.

“Okay,” she says, taking a steadying breath.

“Again, that’s hips,” there his palm is again, hot and firm and pressing into her flesh as he tilts her pelvis forcibly, “before hands. What is it?”

“Um, hips before hands,” she says breathily, resisting an overwhelming urge to press her ass back harder into his lap, to slip that hand beneath the waistband of her jeans so she can feel it on her bare skin. She has a vision of her riding him on the floor as the pitching machine flings balls aimlessly against the back wall, no one caring enough to hit them. She shivers.

“We’re gonna wait on the pitch, keep our eye on the ball, and then we’re just gonna make contact. We’re not gonna think, we’re just gonna let it fly, Scully, okay?”

“Okay,” she says shakily, her heart thrumming in her chest.

They take several swings, the bat making contact with the ball with a sharp crack. Mulder is murmuring in her ear about letting your mind go blank and forgetting about all your worries, but she’s too distracted by the heat of his body and the smell of his aftershave to hear him. If not for the risk of getting pelted by a ball, she just might turn in his arms, push him up against the wire-fence walls of this batting cage, and show him how she prefers to handle bats and balls.

The grip of his hands over hers on the bat pinches the skin around her engagement ring and she jerks. Mulder steps away from her a bit.

“You okay?” he asks, and she nods.

“Um, maybe I should try by myself now. Thanks for showing me,” she says without looking at him, and he steps back into the walkway to watch her. She hits the next three balls, then turns to smile at him victoriously. The pain and longing in his expression makes her heart sink.

After shutting the place down, they drive back to the Hoover building in relative silence, tension hanging thick between them like a curtain. He puts the car in park and gets out, walking her to the door of her own car, which strikes her as unnecessary. She stands by the open door, sensing that there’s something he wants to say.

“Scully….” he stops and shakes his head gently, talking himself out of it.

“What?” she asks, desperately wanting to know what he was going to say.

He clenches his jaw, fighting an inner battle.

“Scully, I know I shouldn’t say this to you. I know that you’re...with someone. I just-” he purses his lips, then closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, his eyes are so full of emotion it makes her breath catch in her chest. “I think about you all the time. Every second of every day.”

“Oh,” she responds lamely. There’s that urge again, the one she has to resist. “You seem like the kind of guy that believes in reincarnation, Mulder,” she says softly.

He gives her a quizzical look. “I don’t NOT believe in it,” he offers.

She smiles sadly at him, reaching out to grasp his hand and give it a brief squeeze. “Maybe in another life,” she says, then climbs into her car and shuts the door.

As she drives home, tears run down her cheeks freely. If she had to identify a reason for them, grief would be the closest one.

[milkiane]

juliet, my angel

pairings: romeo montague x juliet capulet

warnings: character death

word count: 631

note: this was written for my ap lit creative writing and i was really proud of it, so i decided to post it on here <3 "If given a chance to change the ending of the story "Romeo and Juliet", how would you want it to end?"

when romeo have heard the awful news about juliet’s death, he was crestfallen, brokenhearted. just a few days beforehand, the both of them have spoken about all their dreams in life if they weren’t to be betrothed to another lover’s hand in marriage.

romeo could still explicitly hear the dreamy and faraway voice of his beloved’s, causing tears to fog in his eyes. he took a shaky breath in and opened the door to her mausoleum.

taking in her pale but still angelic appearance, he let his guard down as sobs shook his body. he held onto juliet’s hand, giving it a weak kiss before whispering a few words that he knew would remain unheard.

standing up to leave, he spared one last glance at the woman who would hold a special place in his heart before making his departure.

our paths will cross again if it’s meant to be, my love.

“i want to become a poet someday,” she whispered, staring at the twinkling stars above the newly wedded couple.

“what else?” romeo questioned, loving how juliet’s eyes sparkled with passion and zeal.

“i wish to learn how to paint sceneries and landscapes,” she smiled softly, biting her lip in thought, “i’d also love to bake pastries for the town’s children,”

turning to look at romeo, she whispered, “but most of all, i want to run away with you, live in a small cottage amongst the fields of wildflowers together. grow old and grey by each other’s side in a home full of love and warmth,”

romeo felt his heart flutter as soon as she said those words. he pressed a kiss to juliet’s lips, and he knew, at that moment, that everything would be alright.

romeo wished that he would have known what would happen to juliet. he wouldn’t be wallowing himself in pity and guilt if he did. he would have made her dreams come true together. they would have been at their dream house, painting the walls side by side.

but they weren’t, and that made him feel even worse because he shouldn’t be doing this by himself. he should be doing this with her.

romeo sighed, slouching at the publishing house’s wretched chairs.

“mr. montague,” the lady at the desk called out, “mrs. cher is waiting for you in her office.”

he stood up, nodding thankfully at her as he made his way towards the office.

mrs. cher was an elderly woman who’s in her 50’s. as soon as she heard the door to her office open, she looked up from the newly published paperback, giving romeo a soft smile, “it truly is such an endearing thing for you to do, mr. montague. my deepest regards for your loss,”

he gave her a tight-lip smile, gingerly taking the book full of her exquisite poems, a rose in the field of wildflowers, by juliet capulet.

romeo let out a frustrated groan, grabbing the towelette after making another wrong stroke in his painting.

“how do you do this, m’love,” he whispered as if he knew that she could somehow hear him.

he let out a breath of determination, dipping his paintbrush into the palette of myriad colors once again.

for the first time in a while, romeo smiled. a wide, genuine smile.

and he felt happy. like an angel was showering him with affection and joviality, effectively raising his spirits.

perhaps there is, he thought, juliet, my angel.

romeo didn’t let the smile on his face fall. he grabbed the basket of pastries in hand and locked the door of his new home.

before disappearing betwixt the fields of wildflowers and into the bustling town, he looked back at the amiable cottage he calls their home.

our paths will cross again if it’s meant to be, my love.

general taglist: @daltonacademia @inks-and-jinx @weasleyyy @oldschoolkiddo @accioweaslcy @inglourious-imagines @buckysbeloved @iwritesiriusly @fives-cup-of-coffee @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @band--psycho @marswilson24 @miraclesoflove @chokemepansy @spideyspixies @lolooo22 @justfangirlthingies -- i'm sorry if you didn't want to be tagged, just ignore this lol

[rodeoxqueen]

Hiya! I was wondering if you could possibly write a piece (hc or fic, you choose!) where the reader confesses her feelings for Dante, only to get rejected...BUT Dante does like her but says no because she’s only a human and doesn’t want to see her getting hurt with all of his demon hunting business. Could have a happy or sad ending, up to you! Thanks so much for taking time out of your daily life to do this! I’m a writer myself and it can be quite tedious, so kudos to you!

Somebody Else’s; Nobody’s

Dante/Reader

I hope you liked this. I’ll lend you a handkerchief once you’re done crying. 

Yee-Haw, I’m Evil. 

-Rodeo 

Tags/Warnings: Angst, Unrequited But Actually Requited Love, AFAB Reader, Minors Allowed, SFW, Bittersweet Ending, References to 1975′s Somebody Else and Mitski’s Nobody

You were so hopeful, looking at Dante with those starry eyes. He always knew you gazed at him like that when he wasn’t looking. 

He knew you liked him, hands brushing against his, your heart beating faster when he approached. 

You were nice to him and you laughed at his jokes. Maybe a little bit too much. Maybe he was that funny. 

But the day you walked up to him and asked him to talk privately, he already knew what it was about. 

Your heart was pounding faster than he could even count your beats and your form gave off scents of fear and anticipation. 

“Yeah sure, let’s talk.” He said casually, trying to bring down your pacing heart. 

And when you told him how you felt about him, he already knew what he had to say. 

“Dante, I genuinely like you as more than friends. I like you a lot and I was wondering if you felt the same.” His face, he didn’t mean to look so stone-faced when he heard what you said. 

“Yeah (Y/N). I’m sorry. I just don’t feel the same way.” And with that, he swore he could hear your heart shatter to pieces and your face tried so hard not to give away the tears in your eyes. 

God. He was the worst. 

“We can still be friends though?” He offered, patting you on the shoulder, ice blue eyes gazing into yours. 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, Dante,” You said, voice quieter than before. 

It was awkward, you turned and went away. With your back facing him, he dropped his facade as you left the shop, leaving into the night. 

Grin put aside, he sighed. Did you know what you did to him? Did you look both ways before you crossed his mind every waking moment. 

“I like you a lot too.” He mumbled, his poor human heart panging with your own. But he deserved it. He deserved what he put the two of you through with his answer. 

With his lie. 

He almost wants to call you back, his hand almost reaching out as a reaction. He clenches his fist and hits the table, a resounding echo of his grave choice ringing through the rafters. 

But he knew that was what he had to do. You were human, he was subhuman, half a man but all the demon. 

What if you did stay with him? Demons and all the like would hunt you down, and he’d fall apart. 

He couldn’t do that to you. You deserved safety and someone who could provide for you. Not him, this half-demon with a falling apart shop and all the issues. 

You stopped coming around as often. Why would you? After a brief period of pretending things were fine, Dante watched as you decided to give the two of you space. 

Dante tried not to care, knowing how hurt you must have been. You deserved peace from him. 

You walked away for your own peace, but you also walked into somebody else’s heart. 

Dante should have known when he smelled another human while near your presence. He already knew with the look in your eyes as you smiled at your phone whenever a text message showed up. He already knew with the look you gave him. He knew that there was somebody else. 

And when you showed up to his office to talk, somebody else’s sweater on your form, he bit back his hackles, his inner demon screaming. 

You deserved this. Somebody else who wouldn’t loop you into his problems, his danger. 

The tides had changed. Where you once barely kept your head above the waters, keeping your yearning to yourself, Dante had now let his own waves consume him. 

The ring on your finger was the anchor to his sinking ship. You tried not to make it obvious, but Dante knew as soon as you walked in. 

“Cute ring. It a promise ring or something?” He joked. You shook your head. 

“I’m getting married, Dante. That’s what I came to tell you.” You softly said. Your eyes widened as he hugged you. 

“Look at you! Gettin’ hitched.” He joked, watching as you hit him lightly on the shoulder with that pink flush on your face. 

But it wasn’t there because of him, it was there at the thought of somebody else.

“There better be pizza there.” He chuckled emptily, taking the RVSP from your hand. 

“Thank you, Dante.” You said. Those same ice-blue eyes you used to gaze at all day met yours with this intensity he hid from you for all this time. 

“Anything for you.” He stated. The two of you looked at each other, a split second of recognition that Dante wished would bring back those feelings you felt for him, and the feelings he felt since then. 

You patted his shoulder with a smile. 

“You’re a good friend, Dante.”

You would never know how he felt, and he let himself sink under. 

And he drowned all until the wedding. 

On that day, Vergil adjusted Dante’s tie for him before he left the door. 

“Of course you know how to tie a tie, you ascot wearing geezer.” Dante jeered, his grin not meeting his eyes. Vergil spared him a glance. 

“It is not wise to lose yourself in this facade.” His brother muttered. 

Dante nodded and sighed. 

“I know.” 

Dante was fine for the most part. But when he realized how beautiful you were, just from where he sat, he began to break as you made your way to your engaged. 

He couldn’t stop looking at you. 

Oh god. When your vows were done being exchanged, his last chance of telling you appeared before him. 

“If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

This crouching demon, under his flesh, began to writhe after ages of festered emotion.

Tell her you love her, don’t let her go. Object you stupid bastard! She is ours. It is not too late!

His demon roars and thrashes in his human heart and shakes his ribs like the bars in a jail cell. 

You Coward! Don’t you love her?!

Dante winced and closed his eyes. His nails dig crescents into his palms. 

I love her, yeah, I fucking love her. 

I love her so much I would do anything to go back and say that I love her. That I love her and it’s at the right time. 

I’ll love her and I’ll mean it, and I’ll never lie again. 

He grits his teeth and sits in his turmoil at the pews. 

God! I love her.  I love her laugh. I love when she puts her hand on mine. 

I love when she smiles. I love when I make her smile.

I love that when I’m with her, I don’t hate myself. I love that she is home to me, that Devil May Cry is warmer with her there. 

I love her so much that I want to fucking burn myself alive for rejecting her. 

God, she looks so beautiful right now. 

I love her. 

I Love Her. 

I love her…..

The crescendo of the organ piano strikes a grave note as he makes his final decision.

His eyes open and he watches her embrace her human lover, her white veil framing the look of adoration in her gaze. 

And now I have to let her go. 

She kisses somebody else and she is dipped in somebody else’s loving arms. Dante feels his own heart fall as he rises to stand and clap for her. 

He has no choice but to rejoice. 

And he claps and he cheers and he whistles in joy. 

He has lost himself in celebrating for her. 

She will have a honeymoon that she always ranted to him about having, she will move into a nicer place, she will be loved, and she will be warm. She will have children and pets in her home. She will be safe. 

She will have a family and be embraced-

In somebody else’s arms. 

He is a selfless man, and in this time of heartbreak, he has lost himself completely in the killing euphoria that she is no longer his. 

She is somebody else, and she is somebody else’s. And he is nobody’s once again. 

A devil may cry, and yet he smiles through his tears, alone in a crowd of people. 

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 21

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

NOTE: Again, the third person POV starts after this sign: ✪

Tag: @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Still covered in nothing but sheets, Bucky was sleeping in your arms by the time you woke up. Little snores were coming out from his mouth. You smiled at the fluttering sound and planted a small kiss on the top of his head. You laid there listless, legs still shaking from what happened last night, and mind still clouded by Bucky's past.

Peter's annoying coffee bean grinder started filling your ears. They echoed against the apartment walls. You internally groaned at the sound. You looked on your right to take a peek at the small gaps between the curtains and the window. It was still quite dark out, the sun almost waking up. The time on the clock read 6:00 in red blinking lights. You let out a sigh. Peter hated mornings, more than Garfield hates Mondays. The only logical explanation of him getting up early in the morning and making loud, annoying noises with that old grinder was that he didn't sleep through the night or he woke up too early with too many things in his mind. You wanted to choose the latter. If he didn't get to sleep last night, there was a tiny chance he could've heard you and Bucky — might've even walked right in the middle of a very heated, wild sex between his best friend and his stepbrother, seeing as you stupidly left the door unlocked (by this time, you were already out of bed, your naked body wrapped with a cheap bathrobe you've had with you since your college days).

You made a mental note to yourself to lock the door all the damn time, now that you and Bucky were being careful.

Last night might have not been the best thing you've ever done but it sure felt so good.

You stepped out of your room and approached the kitchen. Peter had his back on you and was just getting a filter paper from the top shelf.

"Good morning, Peter Parker." You said, earning a genuine shock from your best friend. Your voice came out groggier than you'd expected.

He turned around, a filter paper in his hand. "Jesus, y/n Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," you replied, "but it's six in the goddamn morning and you've probably woken up the whole building with your grinder."

He went back on his filter paper, placing it inside the coffee machine. That was probably the most expensive thing he'd ever gotten himself. "I ran out of coffee grounds. I had to make them."

You stayed quiet for a while, leaning against the counter and watching Peter pour the grounds into the filter. You watched as he smoothed the grounds with his finger. After a while, he placed both his hands on the edge of the counter, looking at the coffee drip. The whole time, you prayed to God Bucky didn't stir or make any noise in the bedroom. Thankfully, he didn't. He looked like he would be sleeping for a while, anyway.

Biting your lip, you walked to where Peter was standing and stood beside him. You waited for him to say something — anything about any noises he must've heard from last night but there weren't any. If he did, you'd be dead. You and Bucky would be dead.

Moments have passed. The coffee machine whirred on the table. The coffee pot was almost full. The dull kitchen smell was replaced by the inviting coffee aroma. Then, you found my voice

"I'm not sorry for taking the job, Peter." You started, your voice weak, barely a whisper. "I need it. But I am sorry for not appreciating you and your efforts to help me with my career. You have to know that. It's just... you know I feel about the corporate life — "

"I know, y/n." He cut you off. His gaze was now off the coffee maker but at the tiled wall in front. "I'm sorry for reacting that way. I was just tired from the trip." He faced you. A somber look crossed his face. Even if he was, just as he put it, "tired from the trip", you knew he was still hurt. And the more you looked at his baby-like face, the more you wanted to tell him about you and Bucky. You stifled yourself from doing so in your head.

Baby steps, y/n. Baby steps.

"I am proud of you." He stated. "I always have been. I hope you know that."

"Of course I do, Parker." A smile started to settle on your lips.

"It's one of the reasons why I want you to come work in the company. You've got a business degree, and you're a good photographer. And I'm proud of that. But," he paused, "I don't want to upset us both — especially you — by forcing something on you that you clearly don't want. If you're happy, then I'm happy. That's what matters, y/n."

That was a good opening, right? Usually, that was it: the perfect time to tell him that you were dating Bucky. If I'm happy, then he's happy. End of discussion. But things that don't go as planned also usually don't end up as well as you'd hope. After that, all you could utter was:

"Thank you. I am happy."

"And I trust Sam and Bucky."

You nodded, shying away at the mention of your lover.

Trust. It truly was a big and powerful word. The more you looked at Peter, the more the word "trust" started to blur all around him.

You shook your head, dissipating the thoughts swarming in your mind. "I'm starting today, by the way." You said.

"That's great, y/n." He replied. "And who knows, maybe you'll get bigger clients after this. I know Sam has a lot of connections when it comes to independent business owners. Bucky too! He probably knows a lot of models. Maybe he can help you with it, y'know? I mean, he's already helped."

"Maybe. Let's see." By this time, Peter was already pouring the coffee in his favorite mug. The words "Bucky" and "model" weren't sitting right with you. Was it a hint of jealousy on my end?

"Oh, how's it going with Wanda, by the way?" You asked, stirring the question in a different direction. Albeit liking that Peter was warming up to the idea of Bucky helping you, you didn't want to further the topic anymore as it was making you all shake up.

"She's coming in for a meeting today as well, actually. I really hope it goes well. This is the biggest account we've landed."

"That's good." You replied, nodding. Hoping that she wouldn't get Sharon Carter'd during the meeting. But then again, she was Wanda Maximoff — already known for her unremarkable talent. No one would ever think twice to question what she was capable of.

And who am I compared to her, anyway? You thought.

"So... you're starting today!" Peter exclaimed, stirring his coffee after putting in some milk.

"Yes. I have this pitch presentation for Sam and the team. But there's nothing to worry about. The last meeting went well and Sam and I have The Falcons' best interest." Then you told him about how you butted heads with his assistant, Sharon Carter.

"Oh, she's a Schmidt!" He commented, laughing. "Everyone's got a Schmidt."

You laughed alongside him, reminding yourself to beat Schmidt's ass when you see him.

"Man..." he trailed off. "How Bucky could convince you... it's still a mystery to me. You're kind of a hard shell to crack."

You chuckled nervously, gazing down at the floor. You didn't answer. You didn't know what else to say.

You and Peter chatted for a little while, burying the little hatchet you had. You talked more about the trip he'd had with his colleagues, the shocking truth about Steve's past ("Who knew he could write?"). Here, you made a mental note to yourself to perhaps check some articles he had written in the past. You also hoped some of them were online. By the time you and Peter stopped talking, he had already finished his cup of coffee and the sun was almost all the way up in the New York skies.

Before you even got out of the kitchen, you turned around and asked him one thing: "Hey, you still in love with that girl or did the whole retreat thing help you forget her?"

His back was turned to you once again as he was washing his mug. But his actions stopped once you asked the question. His head tilted. "Very much so."

You frowned, crossing your arms. "Very much in love with her still or..."

He turned around, his eyes meeting yours. "I'm still in love with her. Nothing's changed."

"See." You snorted. "The retreat thing was complete crap. Didn't do you shit. My advice for you? Tell her how you feel."

His eyes averted to the tiled floor, continuously nodding his head. "Perhaps."

With that, you left Peter with his lingering thoughts and wished him good luck. You must admit, the curiosity of who this girl he had been in love with for years was eating you. He was the kind of best friend who practically tells you everything that goes on in his life: all the good ones and the shitty ones. But you counted it fair, knowing that you too were keeping a dirty little secret from him. The only difference was your secret involved someone dear to him; whereas, his involved, perhaps, some girl you haven't even met yet. Maybe he met her in the office. Who knows?

You came back to your room, finding Bucky still asleep in your bed. You locked the door behind. The little snores coming out of his mouth were now gone. You woke him up quietly by kissing his temples and his forehead. After a few moments, his eyes fluttered open and a small curve by the corner of his lips started to show. The sun shone on half of his face, his ocean blue eyes absorbing all the light.

"Good morning, handsome." You whispered, smiling at him.

He chuckled and closed his eyes once more, letting his head dip into the pillow, as if shying away from a compliment. "G'morning." He lazily replied. "Is Peter still out there?"

"Yes, he's getting ready for work. You can go out after he leaves."

He rolled towards you, one arm dangling on your waist. "I don't want to go."

"You have to, silly." You giggled.

He shook his head on your tummy, tickling you. You laughed at the way he behaved. Different from the one you had witnessed last night. You stayed in bed for a little while, just in each other's arms, the silence closing in. It was a comfortable silence. One you could get used to. After what had transpired last night, silence was all you needed. Sometimes, it speaks louder than words could. We listened to each other's heartbeats, the sound of Peter's footsteps a few feet away from us, your shallow breathing, and the ongoing traffic just a few stories below

Then, Bucky broke the silence. "I never noticed how loud the traffic could be."

"It's either you've been living in a jungle or in a penthouse that almost reaches the sky."

"I'd like to live in a jungle." He continued. You prepared for his little ramblings, smiling to the wall in front. "So peaceful and quiet. I'd be swinging on vines to vines to vines like Tarzan. I'd like that."

You wanted to tell him a jungle isn't peaceful and quiet, with wild animals lurking around. But perhaps, compared to the human world, it was peaceful. Humans are behaving more like animals these days — or worse than them, even worse than the wild ones. But you liked that he was comfortable enough to tell you all the little weird things that were going on inside his head, all the good and bad, all the big and small. Things he had never uttered to others.

Perhaps it was good that the child in him was still there. At least he still sees the beauty in the world.

His phone vibrated somewhere on the floor, making your thoughts dissipate. He quickly picked it up as soon as he saw the caller ID.

"I have to go, doll." He sighed after talking to whoever was on the other line, picking up his boxers and his pants. You tilted your head to the side as he bent down, subconsciously biting your lower lip. "Tony's in the penthouse."

"Stark?" You frowned. "What's he doing in there?"

He pulled his shirt over his head. By this time, Peter had just finished showering. The water in the bathroom had just stopped dripping. "I'm about to find out."

"Peter's still out there. How are you gonna go out?"

His eyes moved to the closed window in front of him. "The same way I got in last night."

I raised your eyebrows, standing up. "In broad daylight? When people could see you? You're crazy."

"Well baby, I'm crazy for you and I see nothing wrong with that." He smirked, making his way towards you. "What's one more crazy thing to do?" He sped towards the window and quietly opened it, letting a cold breeze inside the room. His foot was just outside the window when you grabbed him and placed your mouth on his.

"Thanks for telling me about your past last night." You said, pulling away. It needed to be said. Now, you felt that you knew him better, knew the deep parts of himself he had been keeping, rather than the parts you already know about him. "I really appreciate it."

A soft smile landed on his lips. His hand caressing your jaw. "Thanks for listening, doll."

Then, he climbed down the fire escape, vanishing like Aladdin on his magic carpet.

--

The inviting smiles of the marketing team invited you into the conference room (the same one as last week) as soon as they saw you walk in. With your head held high, red lips, stilettos, and a bunch of papers and a laptop in hand, you shook all their hands with your free one, introducing yourself. Your eyes landed on Sharon who just gave you a nod. You turned around and fixed all the things you needed for your pitch on the table and felt a bit sad about you and Sharon's little exchange.

You were the only women in the room. The least you guys could do was to back each other up but clearly, it wasn't the way she usually goes. Or maybe she just really hated your guts.

While waiting for Sam to arrive, you practiced the speech you've had prepared a few days ago in your head as you skimmed the slides you prepared — all the color schemes, the tones, the framing, everything were on there.

Sharon approached you hesitantly. You looked up and gave her a questioning look, your fingers suspended in mid-air against the touchpad of your laptop.

"Barnes not coming with you today?"

"No." You briefly replied.

You went back to your presentation but Sharon didn't budge. She just stood there, looking down on you. "Can I help you with something or are you just gonna stand there?"

"You're not so bad, Ms. y/l/n." She said, startling you.

"What?"

"I saw your online portfolio." She answered. "You're good. I mean, you're no Maximoff but yeah, I guess you have potential. You just need a bit of push and the right audience."

You looked back up, giving her a small smile. Albeit the backhanded slap, it was the nicest thing she had ever said to you since day one. "Thank you."

"I'm looking forward to what you might bring to The Falcons."

"And I as well."

Sam arrived a bit later, having had some problems with the shipment of the next batch. You asked if this was going to be a problem in the production for the shoot but assured you and everyone else that it wouldn't be. Not anymore.

Bucky sent you a short text message right before you started the pitch, attached with a photo of him in a black hoodie with an unamused expression crossing his face. The hood perfectly framed his face in a weird way.

The day got dragged in seconds. Even though your pitch presentation about the production and post-production of the photos ended in a New York minute, with no further questions asked (surprisingly), the interview with the countless models and athletes took longer than you thought. Some even flirted with you (and not so subtle, you might as well add) to get the job. That alone just said a little too much of their work ethic and professionalism — which none of them had.

"She's taken, buddy." Sam glared at the model right across from you. "Move along now."

We watched the Australian model get up with a huff, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

"I could've taken care of that, y'know." You sneered. "I don't need you looking out for me when Bucky's not around."

He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. His eyes on the papers lined up on the table. Beside you, Sharon was scribbling something on a piece of paper, double checking all the resumes, and couldn't care less about your conversation.

"Bitch please. I ain't looking out for you, kid. I'm looking out for Bucky."

"Sure, you are." You smiled, your eyes following the next model entering Sam's office. "Admit it, you care about me."

"Ha! You wish." His body language did say exactly that but his smiling eyes said otherwise.

The series of interviews went well after that, less people flirted. If not with you, with Sam and Sharon as well. Despite that, you've met people from different walks of life; people with stories to show and tell through photographs, stories worth telling, people who have been through success and failure, who have been marginalized by people who think of themselves as superior beings, people who are still finding purpose in life. And this is what you adored in this project and what you loved about photography. It was more than making money, more than a business, more than a face. It's all about the stories behind. And you couldn't wait to capture these stories in your lenses once you've chosen the twenty models and athletes.

After the long interview, you bid goodbye to Sam and Sharon, thanking them for the time and the work you've had today. To your surprise, you saw Sharon curve up a small smile as she shook your hand. Maybe you'd get along after all. Who knew?

You hailed a yellow cab in front of Sam's building and went straight to the bar, texting Bucky that you were on your way. You smiled, sitting closer by the window, looking up at the sunset hues in the sky. Now, whenever you looked at the sunset, all you could think of was Bucky.

As you looked above, some striking letters caught your eye: Stark Industries. The biggest, most famous business franchise there ever was not just in New York but in America. Tony Stark had hotels, restaurants, clubs -- you bet there wasn't something he hadn't owned yet.

Upon getting at the bar, Bucky was already sitting on the high stool by the counter. You were getting ready to hug him from behind but seeing Peter get out from the toilet stopped you. Instead, you went for a small smile and a wave. You would've killed to hug him and kiss him after a long day.

Nat wasn't around for her shift tonight, so it was just Nick and the other guys going around for orders. You wondered if Steve too was around or not but it looked like he wasn't. Well, that explains things. It wasn't that hard to put two and two together.

The bar's atmosphere was different without Nat around. Everyone was nice.

"Hey, it's Miss Big-Shot!" Even Nick was nice. "What can I get for ya?"

You ordered a non-alcoholic drink while telling Peter and Bucky how things went through today, secretly wishing it was just you and Bucky. You would've been sitting close together, thighs grazing each other, fingers brushing against each other under the counter, like a couple morphing into one entity.

You secretly kept glancing at Bucky, wondering what was in his mind, wondering if he too wished the same thing you had wished for, wondering if he would kiss me every chance he'd get to. You weren't a big fan of the whole PDA thing but when it came to Bucky, you'd let him do anything to you anytime, anywhere.

After you told them how your day went, you decided to ask a stupid question: "Oh hey, Bucky, how'd it go with Tony?"

Silence filled the counter. Bucky's eyes filled with horror while Peter shot you a questioning look. Then, he looked at Bucky. "You saw Mr. Stark today?" Then, back at you. "Wait, ho-how did you know about that?"

It was a good thing you were quick to think off the top of your head. "Bucky and I ran to each other in Manhattan and I asked how he was doing and then he told me about it! Right, Bucky?"

"That's it!" He replied, smiling awkwardly. "We did and yes, I told her."

"Aw, man. Mr. Stark never answers my phone calls or messages." Peter pouted. "What did you guys talk about?"

Bucky shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. "Business stuff. He says he wants me to be more... present. You know how he is."

But Peter didn't seem to mind about Bucky's reply. "How come he doesn't call me?"

"Oh my god, Parker, are you jealous?" You laughed, nudging his shoulder.

"Well, he never calls me!"

"Aw, is daddy too busy for his little boy?" You joked, pinching his cheeks which he slapped away.

"Ew, don't call him that!" Peter exclaimed, playfully glaring at you. "And he's not my dad! He's his dad!" He pointed at Bucky with his thumb."

"I'm adopted."

"Which technically means he's your dad." He replied. "Did he say anything about me?"

"No, not really." Bucky chuckled at Peter's whining, putting a hand on his shoulder, as if reassuring him. "Don't worry, kid. We'll go pay him a little visit and you can curse him out if you want. I'll be happy to back you up."

"Oohh, I can never do that to Mr. Stark."

"Why not?" You asked. "He's not your father. I say go curse him out."

"He's Tony Stark!" He exclaimed. "You'd be crazy to do that."

"You are such a baby, Parker." You groaned.

"I know." Peter smirked. "That's why women find me adorable."

"Gross." You cringed at him, throwing a cashew nut to his face. "Never ever say that again."

After about an hour of catching up, you three went to the apartment, the awkward silence during the elevator ride killing you each passing second.

You and Bucky stood behind Peter as he struggled to open the door, a little too close for Peter's liking (if he could see us now). Bucky slowly hooked his pinky with yours. You looked at him with a small smile on your face, then down at your pinkies hooked together.

They looked like a little knot on a string.

Bucky looked straight ahead, a sly smile playing on his lips as his hand moved from your hand to your ass. You slightly jumped at the contact, a small blush covering your cheeks. He removed it immediately when Peter managed to open the door after mumbling a few profanities under his breath. You quietly whimpered at the absence of Bucky's touch.

You went straight to your room after that, leaving Bucky and Peter in the living room. While changing, you noticed a gift-wrapped box sitting on your bed. It was a sleek black medium-sized box, adorned with a thick black ribbon, and thin silver ribbons. You frowned at it as you unbuttoned your blouse. You brushed your hand against the ribbon, looking for a note but there was none.

Once you put on some house clothes, you sat on the bed and carefully opened the box. You gasped as you carried the lid. Inside was the Nikon D850 — exactly what you've been wanting — and three different lenses, each with a different purpose.

"Bucky, you son of a bitch." You mumbled, adoring the equipment laid out on the bed.

On the bottom of the box, was a little white note that read:

For the most talented person I know.

Yours,

B.

You glanced at the door as you heard Bucky's laugh echoing against the apartment walls and immediately got out of your room. Peter was already walking to his room to change, leaving you and Bucky in the living room.

"You're welcome, doll." He whispered.

You wasted no time to push him towards the kitchen, and trapped him on the counter, your lips already smashing his. "You don't know how much I've wanted to do that since I saw you at the bar." You breathed out.

"Oh trust me," a quick peck on the lips, "I know."

"Bucky, the gift — "

"Is not too much."

"I was going to say I appreciate it." You smirked. "I think I know you well enough now not to say those kinds of things. But — "

He groaned, throwing his head back. "No buts, baby, please. Unless it's your butt." Then he, the cheeky guy he was, moved his hands on your ass, squeezing them.

"But..." You placed his hands back on your waist, giving him a look. "You don't have to do this all the time, okay?"

"I'm not making any promises."

"James, I mean it."

"Y/n." He smirked. "I mean it too."

"You're never gonna stop, aren't you?" You sighed, gazing into his eyes.

"You know me well enough to answer that question yourself. Now, what do you say when you've received something from me?"

"That's not fair. When you give it to me," you pushed your crotch against his, earning a slight groan from his end, "I normally don't say thank you. How come I should say it now?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "You're really something else. You know that, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "The amount of times you've told me that, Bucky, I swear — "

Then, he shut you up by kissing you softly on the lips. "Where's my thank you?"

You giggled, pressing against him harder. "How about I say thank you in a different way? How's that sound?"

"Right here? Doll, y'know I'm not one for a quickie. If I want to fuck you — "

The sound of Peter's door opening made you jump off Bucky faster than the speed of light. Peter entered the kitchen as you pretended to grab something from the fridge.

"So... this was nice." Bucky said, peeling himself away from the counter. "But I have to go. It's getting kind of dark now plus Howard's waiting for me downstairs."

You watched as Bucky and Peter exchanged their goodbyes by the door, and watched your lover walk away from you without a short hug.

As soon as you went back to your room, your phone rang. You immediately picked it up seeing Bucky's name on the screen.

"If I want to fuck you — and trust me, I always want to — I'd be doing it all day, all night. My place tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you, my little devil."

And with that, you laid on your bed, together with Bucky's gifts, with the thought of Bucky pleasuring you in all ways possible running through your head.

✪

Steve Rogers strode in the mirrored hallways of the Stark industries with Jarvis right beside him, dreading for this spontaneous meet to end. Keeping his head low, he asked Jarvis:

"What does Stark want from me now, Jarvis?"

Jarvis gave him a side-glance, not uttering a single word.

"Oh come on, now." Steve looked at the blonde beside him. "Don't be shy. Usually, you have the right words to say."

But Jarvis didn't budge. He knew Tony well enough not to talk to Steve. Besides, it wasn't any of his business. He was just Tony's little errand boy -- alright, perhaps errand boy was a bit degrading. His... assistant. Someone who does the dirty work for the boss.

"The silent treatment? Really?"

Jarvis internally groaned. Steve didn't use to talk that much back in the good old days. Almost reaching Tony's office, Jarvis showed him the way but Steve stopped him.

"Yeah, yeah. I know where it is." Steve huffed.

"Very well, then."

"Oh, now you talk." Steve said, stopping right outside Tony's tall metallic doors. Jarvis offered him utter silence. "Always a pleasure, Vis."

Tony Stark sat on his cushioned throne, trailing a little yellow cab with his fingers, as if playing with toy cars. Once he heard the door close behind him, he turned around and met Steve's cold blue eyes.

"Mr. Rogers." Tony acknowledged, eyeing Steve from his head to his feet. "Please, sit down."

"I won't be long."

"I'm afraid that's not for you to tell." Tony's voice was firm. Authoritative. Something Steve never missed. "We have much to discuss."

Steve sighed, defeated. He had no other choice but to sit across from the jerk.

"If you're here to tell me to shut up about that thing you don't want Bucky to know, don't worry, I will."

"So..." Tony trailed off, pulling himself closer to his table. "You know that I know."

"It was more of a guess." He replied, frowning. "But knowing you, I just knew it to be true."

"Alright," Tony exhaled, minding Steve's cockiness, "let's cut to the chase here. Your little bar? Captain Brews? I want to buy it."

"No."

Tony was taken aback by Steve's swift answer but he didn't show it. People always said yes to Tony. Always. "I'm afraid that word isn't a part of my vocabulary."

"See, that's where we differ 'cause in mine, it is." Steve answered, keeping his voice strong and steady. "I don't want anything to do with you. I did everything you told me to. Leave me and my bar alone."

"How much do you want for it?"

"What?"

"Ten million? Fifteen?"

Steve scoffed, biting his lower lip. "I told you, I won't tell Bucky what I know. I've burned all the papers, all the articles, all the drafts. There's no evidence left. Buying the bar just to have your strings on me won't do you any good, Stark. I won't allow it. You've already had my word before, right? What's one more?"

[geminil0vr]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 !

the masterlist -> part one

summary ✰ it's the night of the slytherin bash, and, intoxicated, you almost blurt out all your relationship troubles to pansy and the boys of slytherin.

tags ✰ @partr1dge <3

word count ✰ 3.4k

content ✰ alcohol, weed, rip. mill's hairbrush, a big party, drunk/high people and reader, mentions of sex, mild (but just as serious) sexual assault, boyfriend being pushy, arguments, gaslighting, guilt-tripping, pansy lowkey admiring the reader and vice versa, pansy taking off your makeup for you.

a/n ✰ yes we're having a lil party moment right on shedyool <3 i think i made draco too hot in this like have i forgotten this is a pansy fic ?? and i've been listening to the playlist on repeat for some inspiration but now all the songs are stuck in my head yikes... anyway, happy reading :))

letting out a short yell, you bolt out the way of millicent bulstrode being chased by her own hairbrush in your dorm room, falling backwards onto your bed, then leaning up on your forearms to watch in amusement as she squeals.

"stop it, stop it!"

pansy crosses her arms, leaning in the doorway for a moment before speaking calmly despite the urgent situation, "mill, i already told you not to try any beautification spells for tonight. they take a certain finesse that you clearly..." she eyes the hairbrush, which has somehow grown teeth, "lack."

daphne fervently attempts to throw millicent's wand to her, having lost her own somewhere in the room, ducking whenever the hairbrush swings too low by her head and yelling encouragement to her as she wails.

"it's gonna bloody eat me!"

you glance over to pansy, your lips quirked but still fighting the brighter grin that tries to force its way upon your mouth, one brow raised. she looks back with a smirk, raising her brows lazily, then pulls out her wand at last.

sure, you have yours, but come on! this is quality entertainment.

muttering a spell under her breath, the hairbrush rises, letting out a sharp, plasticky sound, teeth gnashing at the unknown force which has suddenly halted its rampage. then, thin, dark cracks begin to show upon its surface as it travels higher and higher into the air, finally letting out one last high-pitched sound before exploding into hot pink shards of plastic onto the wooden floor of the room.

millicent makes a lacklustre attempt of trying to catch certain pieces that are still falling, whining about how it was her favourite hairbrush. daphne drops the wand and falls back onto her duvet, exasperated, and you watch ahead in shock.

"blimey, pansy, couldn't you have just done 'finite'?" you ask, eyes wide.

"'s not nearly as much fun," she grins, bounding over to the large, dark oak wardrobe in the corner of the room, "now, ladies. what are we going to wear for the slytherin bash?"

"i bagsy y/n's black dress!" daphne pipes up, bouncing to sit cross-legged on her bed.

"no, you bloody well don't!"

you look in the mirror of the vanity, tucking back a few strands of hair out of your face and looking down at your silky emerald dress, the neckline dipping a little at your chest, the straps thin.

"whatever, i actually might look better in the green, anyway."

slinking out from the bathroom, daphne fixes the button on the back of the dress she's wearing, the black fabric clinging to her skin, "you definitely do."

"you're just saying that to keep my dress, aren't you?"

"maybe so. but you're still very pretty." she pecks your cheek and sits on her bed, fixing her curled hair in a compact mirror and swaying slightly to the thumping music already playing downstairs.

pansy pulls at her dress, leaning onto the vanity and applying a thin coat of red lipstick over her lips, looking at you through the glass "she's not wrong. you look nice."

you swallow, blinking at your reflection. you've brushed your brows, applied some blush, and a little smokey eyeliner, but nothing much. you don't mind letting your skin breathe a little, anyway.

"thanks, pansy." you eye her loose, sparkling, red dress, neckline dipping so low on her chest that you feel the sudden need to look away, instead focusing on her light-green eyes which never actually ceased intensely tracking the movements of your iris. "so do you."

"right. thank you."

millicent finishes tying her hair up, avoiding using any muggle products and therefore resorting to something simple, clipping it back with a claw accessory, "okay," she starts, and you and pansy quickly look away from each other, "so, are we going or not? can't be too late, they're still missing the life of the party!"

"mill, you pass out after three hours during almost every single party." daphne blinks.

"what's that saying, here for a good time but not a long time?" pansy snickers, zipping up her black boots.

millicent rolls her eyes playfully, crossing her arms. "shut your gobs, the two of you! now let's go!"

locking the door quickly on your way out so you won't have to deal with any arseholes doing it in your bed like last time (well, at least they were having a whale of a time), you bid goodbye to your dormmates who all part ways, immediately grabbing a bottle of firewhiskey from a large table in the corner, looking over at the youthful atmosphere suddenly claiming such a place as the slytherin common room.

pouring yourself a shot, although you're awful at doing those, you hold your nose (as if that's going to help) and gulp down the alcohol, finishing by setting the little glass down and placing your hands on the table full of drinks in front of you, hair falling down into your face.

feeling a hand on your waist, you tense and stand up straight, not relaxing much when your boyfriend kisses your cheek and whispers a 'hello' into your ear.

"ben!" you exclaim, turning around and smiling at him, though not genuinely, "i didn't know you were coming."

"some guys in the year above invited me, unlike my own girlfriend." he teases, gripping you by the waist and pulling you closer, and your nose scrunches at the sharp stench of beer on his breath. putting two and two together, considering how he's slurring his words, you realise he's already tipsy.

"right, sorry!" you genuinely are, though if he hadn't showed up, you wouldn't mind much, "i didn't really find out until the lesson before my free hour, and, well, you wanted us to go to your room, so —"

"oh, yeah. how could i forget?" he leans in, almost stumbling over his own two feet as he gets even closer to you, pulling you to him by your waist and kissing your neck, making you push your head down a little. the party having only just started, people are still piling in and the lights aren't turned off just yet.

you push him by the chest, gently, "it's still early, benny. not now."

ignoring your wishes, he nibbles at your neck, and you bring your shoulder up in discomfort, "but don't you want a repeat?" no, you really don't.

"ben, just, back off, please." you push a little more firmly now, shaking him off, and going to grab the bottle again to pour yourself another shot of firewhiskey as an excuse to not stay so close to him. but clearly that tactic isn't great, because he pushes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

"come on, this party'll be lame anyway. your room's empty, right?" you freeze as his lips meet your throat once more, swallowing before finding it in yourself to stretch your shoulders back, and push his arms from your waist, quickly pouring the shot and keeping it in your hand, just in case you need to spill it on him as a distraction.

if he's gonna be pushy, he could at least be decent in bed.

well, at least, that's your cynical view on it.

"ben. no. my — my friends are here, and i... i don't want to leave them all alone." you fiddle with the shot glass in your hand, brows furrowed, and he exhales loudly before shrugging his shoulders.

"if you don't want me then you could've just said so."

your eyes widen, "no, i didn't mean it like that, just that... just not tonight."

"well, it kinda seems like you're not interested. but whatever, y/n, it's fine." as you try to reach out to him, he walks over to his friends, and you lean against the table, gulping down the firewhiskey and wincing at the burn in your throat.

shit.

"come on, y/n! they're dimming the lights now, i wanna dance!" daphne bounds over to you, dragging you by the arm before you can protest.

and you oblige.

two hours in, you're tipsy, worn-out from all the dancing, yet still going back between the many students for more adrenaline. grinning as a song you love comes on, you regroup your dormmates in the crowd, grabbing them by their hands and all winding your hips to the beat, millicent giggling and falling over her feet, daphne tearing away from her boyfriend to join with a smile on her face. pansy isn't very giggly when drinking, you've noticed. in close settings, sure, but in big parties like this, everyone so close, air hot, green lights strobing across the common room... she just dances. raising her hands above her head, swaying her hips, twirling her friends around by their fingers — it's almost sensual. well, to anyone else. not to you.

pansy eyes you as you spin — the exhilarated grin on your face from being able to shrug off everything burdening you, everything weighing atop your shoulders. and she realises that she likes the shine of the strobing lights against your skin, your nose and cheeks gleaming, eyes a little bloodshot and chest glistening from all the alcohol in your system, and all the dancing. and when you and pansy finally get off the dancefloor to join the slytherin boys on the sofas, she likes the way your eyes tear up a little after taking a long drag from the joint that's being passed around.

"this isn't laced with anything, right?" you clear your throat to speak over the music, passing it back to theo, head dizzy. you watch the lights entangle themselves between little clouds of smoke, and wonder which cloud is yours.

"what do you think i am, a drug lord? no, it is not laced with anything." he rolls his eyes, leaning back on the sofa.

blaise elbows him, looking at you and pansy who are both sitting next to each other, "don't mind him — you know he gets bitchy when he smokes."

"do not." theo huffs.

"yes, you do." draco deadpans, snatching the joint from his hands and inhaling the smoke, blowing it upwards from his bottom lip.

you chuckle, stretching to settle comfortably into the sofa and tapping pansy's bare thigh subconsciously, to which she tenses, "i feel like nott's always a bitch, regardless."

"not wrong there." theo winks at you, rubbing at his eyes. your head feels like it's spinning, and you giggle again, leading blaise to do the same.

"what's so funny, y/l/n?" pansy raises her brows nonchalantly, crossing her legs and studying you at her right. she's taken the joint between her plump lips now, inhaling deeply for a second, then blowing it up into the air.

"think it's the weed." you giggle once more, eyelids heavy, leaning your head onto her shoulder — you two are much more friendly when a little bit intoxicated and high. more so you, than her.

draco leans back into the armchair he's sitting in, looking over to the corner of the room and spotting your ravenclaw boyfriend drinking with his friends in the corner. and, being significantly less of an arsehole with something in his system, draco decided to be polite.

"how's the boyfriend, y/n?" you chuckle at this, smiling softly and lifting your head up from pansy's shoulder.

"my boyfriend is an absolute, grade O, cockhead."

the whole group is still for a short moment, exchanging varying levels of shock and amusement, before turning back to you. draco speaks again, "is that so?"

"mhmm." you nod lazily, as if your head is too heavy to hold up, pointing over at him from the other side of the room, "ben sucks. he's awful. if i could, i would — well, i mean, i could, but if i really could, i'd —"

"right, i think that's enough of that for tonight." pansy takes the joint from between your index and middle finger, interrupting you and attempting to change the subject considering your tipsy and high state. she’s been through enough non-sober confessions in her lifetime to know best.

"no, i mean it. and it would be worth it if he would actually fuck m—"

"i said, enough." pansy presses, trying to save you any embarrassment. being good enough friends with the slytherin boys of your year since you all first arrived, you know there'll be no judgement or rumours spread around. but, still. better not to air out all of your dirty laundry, or whatever the americans say. well, that's what 'sober you' would say. and right now, you're completely ready to confess how shitty your boyfriend is, to reveal the dialogue that usually only stays in your head.

"come on, pansy, the people wanna know." blaise raises his finger to her, grinning. the boy loved drama; he wasn't a sharer, but certainly a listener.

"i, the people, do not care." draco raises his finger as well, slouched in his seat.

"and i, the people, say you're not gonna let y/n humiliate herself. if she really wants to say this, she’ll do it when she’s sober.” pansy frowns, standing up and gripping your arm, passing the joint over to theo who was watching the scene casually.

“usually you love this stuff!” theo raises his arms lazily for emphasis.

“well, she’s my friend.” pansy gives him a blink stare.

"blah, blah, blah, parkinson." you slur you words a little, and she scowls, "i'm ready to say it. ben rowen is shite in and out of the be—"

she muffles your voice with her hand, forcing you to get up and follow her to the dormitory calmly, as you attempt to yell through her fingers, instead practically humming. it's not a messy, nor embarrassing scene -- you're at least sober enough to know better, and no one's paying attention anyway, not with the beat of the music thrumming through the room, vibrating the floor beneath your feet. but you're not sober enough to control your urge to break down and admit that you desperately want to break up with your boyfriend, even though you think you still love (the old, fake) him, even though you're scared to break his heart.

seeing the scene from across the common room, ben strides over with a purpose, and the boys on the sofa snort at his actions. "what happened?" he tears pansy's hand from your mouth (thankfully, you're not wearing lipstick), to which she scrunches up her nose, clenching her jaw and glancing to the side impatiently.

"your girlfriend had a little too much to drink and smoke. she's going to bed."

"she can just stay with me." he seems over his annoyance from before. shame his annoying personality continues to linger, you think.

pansy eyes him up and down rapidly, grip still firm on your arm. there’s something about your boyfriend, especially considering your change in behaviour around him, that pisses her off. you're looking between the two of them with wide eyes, considerably amused. "no."

"what do you mean, no?" you notice now that he's much, much drunker than before. the boys are still watching, leaning forward to hear over the music. well, theo and blaise are -- draco gives the 'altercation' a glance before setting his focus on the almost-finished joint between his fingers.

"i thought ravenclaws were meant to have an IQ of at least more than ten — no, means, i will not let her stay with you, she's going to sleep it off." you look over to the sofas and give a look the boys, half-grimacing, half-grinning.

"listen, i'm the boyfriend here —"

"are you? because i don't recall you ever being present the entire party."

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean, i was just over —"

"with her, i mean. why don't you go drown yourself in some more of that beer you obviously like so much," 'ouch', blaise mouths, "and i'll take care of your girlfriend, who... y/n?" you stop making frantic pointing gestures to the boys to ‘translate’ what they were saying since the boys couldn’t lip read, turning your attention to the people in front of you.

"yup?" you shrug, tilting your head up at her, being just an inch or two shorter.

pansy closes her eyes, sighing, then shakes her head, feeling a little wobbly herself, "nevermind. let's get you to bed, huh?" she shoots daggers at ben, whose nostrils flare as you're guided to the girls dormitory. he goes after you two again, but is quickly halted when draco's voice raises over the music.

"perhaps you should let them leave, rowen. just head elsewhere — don't be an arse."

ben sighs in exasperation, making his way to the group, but draco sticks his leg out through the gap between the armchair and the sofa on which you were just sitting, making your boyfriend stumble back.

"that wasn’t an invitation." draco deadpans, although the corner of his lip quirks up as he takes a sip of firewhisky and raises his brows.

instead of casting a quick makeup removal spell, pansy opts to lean you against the bathroom sink at a safe distance, using a cotton pad and cleaning off your eyeliner and any sweat or blush left on your skin. you know, just in case the spell doesn't go well, and you end up being eaten by a magic cotton pad.

you close your eyes, gripping the cold sink behind you loosely as pansy wipes warm water over your skin.

"done." she nods, expressionless, as your eyes flutter open, easily casting 'incendio' on the cotton and not bothering to watch as it crumbles into ash on the floor. she certainly has a flair for the dramatics, and you can't help but think she's picked it up from draco malfoy.

you look into the mirror to smooth down your hair, eyes bloodshot, lips swollen from the firewhiskey (and a little from when pansy pressed her palm into them). she tosses pyjamas at you, and you wobble a bit when they hit your side.

"change."

"okay, sergeant." you snort as she shuts the door, clumsily picking up the shorts and sweater she'd thrown.

shrugging off your dress, you call out from inside the bathroom. "why did you get mad at ben?"

for a beat, there was silence, until she called back. "because he was being a 'cockhead'." pansy mocked.

"and why did you make me leave?" you pull up your pyjama shorts, squinting down and trying to tie a little bow at the front, rather unsuccessfully, "i was having fun."

"well, you were gonna embarrass yourself, y/n. i only helped you out."

after slipping on your large sweater, you peek your head out the door, seeing her tie her raven hair back into a tiny ponytail, most strands falling out due to the length of it (or lack thereof). she'd done a makeup removal spell on herself.

"you're going to bed, too?" you murmur, furrowing your brows.

"yeah, tired." she lies, sorting out her bed covers.

you bite the inside of your cheek before deciding to ‘confront’ her, “and, pansy?” her movements still, “i didn't need help. they're my friends, and i wanted to tell them —"

she turns around, cutting you off with a challenging look that makes you step fully into the doorway, "tell them what?"

you swallow. nevermind. maybe she was right to drag you out of the party. maybe she was right to have cut you off, instead of letting you indulge into your history and your barely-there sex life.

feeling like you're being frowned upon by authority, you duck your head sheepishly and clamber into bed, glancing over to millicent who has seemingly collapsed onto her bed and blacked out.

"is... everything okay with you and — you and ben, though?"

"yeah. i don't know what i was saying. he just pissed me off earlier and i started... talking shit." you lie through your teeth.

"right." she flicks off the lights with her wand, back turned to you as she sits on her bed, pulling off her dress and slipping into a big shirt. the lamp on your bedside table that she turned on beforehand faintly casts the room in a warm glow, and through the darkness you can see the pale skin of her back as she pulls it down. your eyes dart away, deciding to focus on the ceiling, instead, "and you're really okay?" she turns now, and relief washes over you — relief that she didn't turn sooner.

you eye her as she gets under her covers, propping her head up with her hand. you bury yours sideways into the pillow, wrapping the duvet tightly around your frame. "yeah. you?"

"yes, y/n. now, sleep off all that shit in your system. and lie on your side, not your back." you listen to what she's told you plenty of time before, and lean over to switch off the lamp, the entire room pitch black.

"'night, pansy."

"goodnight."

[highsviolets]

Thinking about soft! Javi rights:

The country could be hot; you knew this by now. One of the first things you did upon arriving was stake out your local corner store, a nearby cafe, a fresh market. On one of these adventures, the day unbearably warm, you wandered into the freezer section and found a delicious popsicle treat made of milk and strawberries and quickly became obsessed with it.

Javier has become used to seeing the stash in your freezer, has become used to seeing you eating them during late afternoons, on weekend strolls, on FaceTime when he calls you at night.

Obsessed with the way your lips wrap around the sweet treat, the way your cheeks hollow when you suck it, he never says anything; not wanting you to be self conscious about eating it.

You knew, though; you knew what he was thinking when you let your lips glide over it, resting the tip of on your bottom lip while he stared intently at your mouth through the screen.

Letting you know he was going to be dropping by after work one day, you asked him to pick up a couple of the treats, since you were all out. Walking through the door, he places the stash in the freezer and turning to face you, he has one in his mouth.

Comical at first (you’ve never seen him eat something sweet; let alone a popsicle) your gaze quickly becomes heated when he joins you on the couch; his shirt unbuttoned to show the exposed, flushed skin of his chest, his hair damp at his temple, his tongue just peeking out to lick at a sweet drop of melted sugar.

Scooting close to you, he holds the treat out to you with a question and you take it; your fingers brushing over his. You put your mouth on the popsicle, right where his was and he watches for a second before sliding his hand under your tank top, pulling it down in the front to expose your breasts. His mouth still intensely cold from the treat, the sensation is shocking when he puts it on your heated skin; his tongue gliding over your pebbled nipple, his wet mouth enveloping it.

It’s a shame, the waste, when you set the popsicle down on your table and let it melt; your mouth now busy doing other things with Javier.

He’s rummaging in the kitchen when he takes your call, propping your digital image on the beaten-down coffeemaker before crouching on his hands and knees, tight jeans flush with the cool surface.

For someone who tends to think that the kitchen exists to reheat takeout and house his liquor collection (and even that’s on the bar cart in the living room), Javier empties the contents of his freezer with unrestrained vigor, thick forearms flexing with the effort. Frozen goods slap onto the unforgiving tile, encircling Javi in a mishmash of cardboard boxes and tupperware.

Finally noticing your silence, he looks up at you, eyebrow raised in a silent taunt. The vision makes you ache, almost. But not quite. A child’s demeanor peeks through those broad shoulders hunched over the white light of the freezer, locks of hair dropping kisses to his brow in a lingering caress that those fingers can’t seem to push aside. Javi’s mouth is slightly slack, lips rounding in a soft o and hovering open in concentration (and, though he will never say it, embarrassment).

He grumbles when you ask him what he’s looking for. ’S nothing, baby, he says, unceremoniously tossing the food back into the freezer. But there’s a slight frown obscuring his features as he competes the routine task and raises himself to his regular height, now staring down at you on the small screen of his phone.

Spotting your curious glance, Javi gives you lopsided smile. “You know, I was thinking,” he announces, hands on his hips, “it’s been a while since we went out. Wanna take a drive out of the city this weekend?”

“What were were you doing in your freezer?”

“I know a good taco place on the coast,” he says, raising his voice slightly to speak over you, drowning your words in his vision. “You’d love it, baby; the tacos are almost as good as mine and you can hear the waves —”

Not for the first time, you wish he was here, or you were there, in his cramped apartment. FaceTime is good, but these days it’s not enough, not when missing him is more of a habit than a conscious thought. If he was here, you’d place your hands over his on his hips, fingers brushing the bare skin where his t-shirt rides up and look up at him with wide eyes until he finally submits to your faux-interrogation. But caught between city blocks and tingling remembrances and declarations whispered into headphones, you have no power except that which he can see.

“You’re not going to get out of the question by talking about food, Javier.” The scold is genuine yet still tempered with your gentle strength — quiet, firm, the colors of your affection staining each word.

He gives you a roguish smile, one that can still set you on fire even from blocks away. “No? Shall I talk about something else, then?” Javi pauses, considering, eyes shifting to gaze at something out frame, jaw shifting in thought. “I know. How about the way you sound when you come?” He laughs at your shocked exclamation — Jesus, Javi! — and winks.

“Because, you know, I could talk about that for hours.” He lets his body mimic the dip in tone, bracing his forearms on the counter to bring his face closer to the camera. The soft cotton of his t-shirt stretch as his muscles accept the weight, and the sight makes your breath hitch.

“You always sound so beautiful, baby. I fuckin’ love the way you say my name when I’m buried deep inside of you,” he murmurs, observing as you struggle to remain composed — the crease in your brow, the press of your lips, the slightest cant of your head to the left. Eyeing the bare swath of skin between your collarbone and your tank top — if you were here, would you let him mark you? — Javi continues his assault. “Such pretty moans for me, princesa.”

Opening his mouth to continue, he pauses when you lift your hand, bringing it into the view of the camera.

“Where the fuck did you get those? They’ve been out of stock all week,” he breathes, words biting vehemently into the open air, eyes focused greedily on the frozen treat in your hand.

“I’ve had them in my freezer for ages,” you goad, licking the popsicle in an exaggerated motion.

He’s watching, now, you can tell — so you continue your show, talking care to slurp around it and let out a hum of contentment. “These ones are the best, I think. They don’t melt too quickly, they aren’t that sticky,” you muse, letting your tongue swirl absentmindedly around the tip, resolutely ignoring his gaze. “They’re not overly sweet, either — I don’t like things that are sweet. Don’t you agree, Javi?”

Finally dragging your eyes away from the popsicle and up to his, you’re startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor. No longer bright and teasing, his eyes have darkened to the color of charcoal and are trained on your lips — stained red from the food dye and slightly swollen from the chill of the frozen treat.

“Of course, amor,” he consents readily, voice husky. “That’s what I was looking for, actually.” He pauses and wets his lips, thinking. “I’ve been craving one all day,” he finally says, and there’s no doubting his sincerity — and his true meaning — at the raw hunger in his voice, the way the words melt seamlessly together with a seductive harshness.

Your lips curl in a smile, tongue poking at the corner of your mouth to lick away the excess. “Why don’t you come over, Javi?” you say. “I have a whole box in my freezer, you know. We wouldn’t even have to…oh, shit.”

A sigh escapes your mouth and you raise your hand, where Javi can see the stain of melted sugar trickling down the back of your hand and onto your fingertips. “Damnit,” you curse, before putting the sticky finger in your mouth, making sure Javi can see the way you drag your tongue against your digit. Moaning slightly as you suck away the sugar, you let your eyes flutter shut, tilting your head back against the couch cushions and causing the thin tank top to stretch over your breasts.

Opening your eyes and letting your fingers fall away from your mouth, you repress a grin at the sight of Javi nearly slack-jawed, swallowing thickly. “What I was I saying? Sorry, baby, I got distracted,” you coo.

“Don’t — fuck,” he groans, running a face of his hand in frustration. “You know what — don’t move. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Javi leans in even closer, narrowing his eyes in focus. “And you better have a whole box, princesa,” he warns. “We’re going to need them.”

javi tags: @frannyzooey @catsnkooks @littlevodika @a-seeker-of-imagination @goldenkenobi @goldafterglow @justrunamok @tastefulmisunderstanding @themarvelousbear @blancatobarxoxo @wille-zarr @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @ladytrashbird @princessxkenobi @roxypeanut @rentskenobi @mcu-padawan @yespolkadotkitty @anakin-danvers @cri-me-a-river @huliabitch @dracos-jedi-marvel // TAGLIST FORM // SERIES MASTERLIST 

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #8: under his loving gaze: Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

In which Steve discovers it’s possible to love two people to the bone and still be crushed by loneliness. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers (sort of) x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) VOYEURISM of the truest, you-don’t-know-you’re-being-watched kind. Vaginal sex. Male masturbation. Lots and lots of pining for not so many words. 

Notes: Another one for my Marvel friends today :) The prompt for day eight is ‘Voyeurism,’ and does he ever watch. Somehow this one turned angsty. I... don’t think I’m sorry, though. 

Kinktober Masterlist

Friday nights never used to be this pathetic.

Steve’s not completely sure when he got so boring. Even when he was a kid, Bucky always had one place or the other to drag him on the weekends. He’d stumble in from a backbreaking shift at the docks, c’mon Stevie, the city awaits, and Steve never really wanted to go, but it was Bucky’s sweat that paid for the roof over their heads, so he never felt good about saying no.

These days, though, his idea of fun is an evening pouring over his briefings. Letting the security footage from the compound flick idly across the monitor. He doesn’t need to watch it. Not when there’s an AI system more sophisticated than any on the planet monitoring their premises.

But Steve’s always been a little old-fashioned.

Tonight, there’s something else on his mind. It’s not something that should be plaguing his thoughts, but his brain doesn’t often listen when he decides he doesn’t want to think about something.

“Gonna be taking your post again tonight, Captain?” Tony’s voice, no matter how genuine, always felt edged with an air of mockery. Tonight’s dinner had been no different. Above the idle chatter surrounding plans for the weekend, he’d decided to speak up.

“Whaddaya mean?” Sam had asked, quirking an eyebrow in Steve’s direction with a bite of chicken-something (prepared by Vision) halfway to his mouth.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Steve remembers low dread curling in his gut at the snappy response from Tony, knowing he was setting up for a lethal blow. “Steve’s been watching all of you do the nasty.”

After his cheeks had gone an appropriate shade of maroon, Steve sputtered through the rest of dinner, insisting that there weren’t any security cameras installed in private areas of the compound.

Then again, based on the way that Tony’s eyes had sparkled once he let the subject drop, Steve isn’t so sure anymore.

The mystery of whether seems hell-bent on keeping Steve from getting any work done tonight. Any time he so much as lowers his eyes to the page, the question plagues intently at the corners of his thoughts, forcing him to re-read the same briefing line at least a dozen times before he gives up and pushes the papers aside.

He’s just going to have to figure it out. Once and for all. He slumps over the edge of the desk, taking the mouse in one oversized hand and navigating to the edge of the window that he’s got open- flicking through the normal course of security footage. Front door, hallways, kitchen, gym, garden, repeat.

Steve is not blessed with extensive computer knowledge. But he knows that the black bar at the top of the screen, scrawled with words like file, edit, preferences, refers to a list of possible commands. So he keeps clicking through them, scrolling through each option until he finds something that points him in the right direction.

Under the view tab there’s another series of options. After mousing over one called ‘cycle settings,’ he realizes that the current feeds cycling through the monitor are only one option of many.

His eyes find ‘quarters’ far more quickly than he would care to admit. For an honest moment he sits there, cursor highlighting the option. He chews hard at his lower lip.

It wouldn’t be right. It would be a violation of privacy. But it’s Friday night. Steve’s willing to bet that hardly anyone is even home at the moment. What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?

Oops, he thinks to himself as he clicks, curiosity getting the best of him. My hand slipped.

The feed that pops up before him is, as he expected, mostly empty. Some of the bedrooms are unused, showing bare rooms with bare mattresses and naked walls.  Even the ones that are designated to his teammates are mostly unoccupied right now, some beds neatly made, some haphazardly rumpled.

There’s a flicker of motion out the corner of his eye that draws Steve’s attention. His heart clenches. Hard.

It’s your room. And you’re there, but you’re not alone.

The relationship that you have with Bucky is no secret. You connected with one another right away, finding peace in one another and happiness. You’ve turned Bucky into a shred of the man he used to be- smiling, grabbing for you in the kitchen, holding you close when you gather in the common room to watch movies or binge Seinfeld.

Steve’s supposed to be happy for you. Both of you. The two most important people in the world to him have found happiness with one another.

But he can’t help the rush of greed that consumes him every time you’re in front of him. Every time you put that love so proudly on display.

He wants you both for himself.

He clicks on the feed and it quickly expands to fill the entire monitor. This way, it’s easier for him to see the way Bucky looks, laid out on top of your stretched body. His knees are between your thighs, and though his hair hides your faces in a sweep of chestnut, his body doesn’t hide the way his hands are currently working themselves under the edge of your tank top, crawling up your ribcage as he kisses you like a man starved.

Based on the angle of the feed, Steve can surmise that the camera is probably situated in the control panel by your door. He should have guessed. Tony’s a sneaky bastard at the best of times. And the concept of boundaries has always been a foreign one to anybody named ‘Stark.’

Bucky rucks your shirt up over your bare chest. Steve swallows hard. He glances over his shoulder to make sure the door to his study is closed, then turns his attention back to the screen. Bucky’s palming one of your breasts, but he’s already kissed his way down to your chest and sucks attentively at the other one.

He’s worshipping your body. God, he’s so in love with you. Steve’s not sure which one of you he wishes he could be. Both. Neither. He wants to be in the middle.

His cock is already beginning to twitch to life inside his stiff chinos, and he shifts a little to palm the growing swell of it down one thigh. His mind is working a mile a minute- wrestling between how badly he knows he shouldn’t be doing this and how badly he wants to anyway.

Bucky tugs your sweatpants down over your hips in one swift motion and Steve reaches for his fly. He can’t fucking take this anymore.

It’s not like you’re going to look over and see him there, peering at you from the other side of the camera.

He’s just thankful that there’s no sound, or he would have definitely lost it by now. He can see the way your lips are moving, though, and imagines what you might be saying to each other. Are you tender? Dirty? He wants to know it all.

Bucky’s got your pants off now, and he’s shimmying out of his shirt, too. Steve tries hard not to admire the graceful dip and swell of his best friend’s muscles. He’s loved Bucky since he was a chubby-cheeked kid, and he wished that neither of them had ever been touched by any of this. But Bucky’s beautiful now, gorgeous in a way that Steve will never be. He handles his new mass with elegance.

The dull silver glint of a dog tag dangles from Bucky’s throat as he crawls up your body again, shucking down his pants. Steve’s already digging through the fabric in his lap, pushing the folds of his pants aside and pulling out his cock. He can’t stop. It’s like his limbs are moving all their own.

You’re both naked now. To Steve, it’s like a trip to the Louvre. Priceless artwork laid out for him alone. Both your bodies are so perfect. He never knew that he could want two things, two people so badly, but to choose between you would be to choose between breath and heartbeat.

He grips the base of his cock and groans as he watches Bucky line up. He’s so careful with you, worshipping your body at every turn. He slips his metal hand beneath your thigh, intertwining his flesh fingers with yours. He leans down to kiss you, so slow and soft it makes Steve’s chest ache to watch.

He’s seen the two of you kiss before. But this is an intimate moment, meant to be shared by just the two of you. For an instant it hits Steve how intrusive this is, to be looking in on a ritual as tender and sacred as this one.

Bucky’s hips ease forward, clean lines of muscle sinking into the sides of his thighs. Steve’s hand gives an involuntary jerk. He needs this- no- deserves this- and what you never find out won’t hurt you.

For all the softness that Bucky’s shown you in the lead-up he settles into a brutal rhythm, pounding rhythmically into your body as your legs twine around his hips to pull him in. It’s even more beautiful to watch from afar, and Steve quickly matches the rhythm of your lovemaking with his fist, pumping his hips into a closed hand and slicking the fluid that leaks from his tip up and down the length of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he gasps, despite himself. “fuuuck.”

Bucky lasts longer than he does.

Steve can’t help himself. Bound by nothing but his own pleasure, he cums fast. His thighs hit the underside of his desk as he swears and jerks and tugs on his cock, bucking his hips into nothing and spurting quick bursts over his fingers and palm. The pleasure that rushes his system is little compared to what he’d feel if he were with you, but… it’s all he can bear to take for himself.

He stays to watch the two of you finish, transfixed by the way Bucky’s hand slips between your legs and your mouth pops open in a silent cry. Even without hearing you he can tell when you’ve hit your peak- your whole body shivers and he fucks you through it, calm and steady as the tide.

He doesn’t last much longer after that, though, and Steve watches in awe. Bucky draws up so tight before he cums it looks like he’s going to snap, all the tendons and muscles in his body stretched to the breaking point. And when it hits him, he collapses forward, thrusting madly into you before his knees go shaky and he just buries himself to the hilt and stops. He trembles against you. Trails kisses down your whole body. And when he pulls out, his softening cock is followed by a handful of fluid- so much- and Steve comes back to himself so quickly he closes the entire security program and unplugs the desktop.

The weight of what he’s just done settles over his shoulders. But, fuck, he loved it. The image of you and Bucky and your bodies moving as one is printed permanently into his mind.

As he cleans himself up and gets dressed again, he wishes there was a way for him to make you both see. If he could just show you how much he adores you, both of you, maybe you’d let him in. If you knew that he didn’t want to come between you, maybe things would be different.

For tonight, though, all he’ll have is stolen memories. And for now, it has to be enough.

[omg-imagine]

⊱ A Touch of Warmth ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Prompt: 5- “Are you warm enough?”

Words: 1.4k

Warning: nothing but flufffff

A/N: So, I decided to title these fics bc it doesn’t make sense for me to call them drabbles anymore haha. Also, I don’t have set days for when the other requested prompts will be out but I’ll be working on them intermittently. I hope you enjoy this one and feel free to leave a comment if you’d like :)

Requested by @ficsnroses​ ♡

“Where are you taking me?”

It was your fourth time asking the question ever since you and Keanu drove from his house. Arriving at the mysterious destination just minutes ago, you were exasperated with having to repeat yourself only to receive the same short ungratifying response from him every single time. It’s a secret, he would always answer—nothing more, nothing less.

Frustrated yet intrigued, you allowed Keanu to lead you down a straight pavement, his larger hand clutching yours while the other settled in the small of your back, serving as a gentle guide. Your vision was obscured by the blindfold comfortably secured around your eyes, leaving you to rely on your four remaining senses to figure out where on earth your boyfriend had decided to take you.

Soon, the concrete beneath your sandals disappeared, replaced by wooden planks that creaked with each step. Unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you reached up to lift the opaque cloth for a swift peek, but Keanu caught you during the act.

“Come on, Y/N,” he scolded playfully, clicking his tongue at you as he readjusted your blindfold. “I promise you, we’re almost there. Don’t ruin the surprise now.”

Shaking your head, you felt Keanu lightly kiss the tip of your nose before resuming his walk with you in tow. “Just to be clear, this isn’t what I had in mind when you asked if you could blindfold me.”

You heard the light tone of his chuckle rumbling at your side, halting once more to speak. “Oh, don’t be such a grump, babe. You said you wanted us to be more spontaneous, so here’s my attempt at it. I’m pretty confident that you’re going to love what I’ve planned for today. Don’t you trust me?”

A soft sigh escaping your lips, you then gave him a nod, silently wishing that he could also see the teasing roll of your eyes. “Yeah, I trust you. I hope there’s food wherever you’re taking me.”

“There will be much more than food, sweetheart,” Keanu confirmed, much to your utter delight. “Be patient, baby. It’ll be worth it.”

With a tender squeeze to Keanu’s hand, you finally relented, not even the slightest doubt about his surprise present in your mind. As the two of you continued on, you started to feel a gentle chill of wind drifting over your skin, bringing with it the familiar scent of saltwater. A few more steps further and your toes dipped into what surely was sand—soft, and still warm. It quickly dawned on you that Keanu had brought you to a beach, a place where you both loved to be.

“Can I please take this off now?” You asked once you and he suddenly came to a stop, the nearby waves crashing onto the shore drowning out your quiet voice.

Rather than answering, Keanu lets go of your hand before moving to stand behind you, his fingers easily undoing the knot tied at the back of your head. Slowly, the cloth slipped off your eyes, and the first thing you saw was the quilted blanket sprawled across the shimmering golden beach surface, a picnic basket set in the middle with a bottle of your favorite red and two glasses by its side.

Turning around, you found Keanu smiling adoringly at you, an elegant bouquet of fresh flowers in his hand. His rich, dark chocolate eyes radiated a unique warmth as he stepped forward, the light ocean breeze rustling his long locks. Lips parting in a grin, your heart fluttered wildly at the precious sight of him, reminding you of the reason why you fell for him almost two years ago.

“Surprise,” Keanu beamed, handing over to you the bouquet. “I bet you weren’t thinking of having a picnic at the beach today, huh?”

You giggled before pulling him in for a brief kiss. “This is amazing, babe. It’s gorgeous here.”

“I found this spot during one of my rides. No one really comes this way, which is perfect,” he revealed, gesturing for you to take a seat on the covered ground. “We can eat our lunch in peace while enjoying the view from here.”

As you admired the scenery, Keanu poured you a glass of wine to sip on as he unpacked the food in the basket. Watching him nearly fumble with a plateful of cheese and charcuterie, you couldn’t suppress the tiny chuckle escaping your lips due to his clumsy eagerness. It was obvious that he was genuinely excited about this date he had secretly organized for you, just as much as you were there to share this afternoon with him.

The beach was quiet all around you; its peace was only broken by the sounds of yours and Keanu’s cheery voices and laughter. You were thrilled to be able to spend quality time with him after his most recent shoot out of town, which kept you away from each other for five whole months. Now that he was home, you would cherish these dear moments and create even more memories lasting a lifetime.

An hour soon passed without notice as time seemed to stand still whenever the two of you were together. You were deeply engaged in conversation with Keanu when you happened to glance up for a second, seeing the absence of sun and bright blue above. Instead, billowing grey clouds quickly covered the entire sky, the wind howling as it picked up speed.

“Ke, did you check the weather while planning this?” You wondered as a low roll of thunder sounded, alarming you even more.

You heard Keanu curse under his breath, a hand scratching nervously at his head. “I-uh forgot to check earlier.”

Once he said those words, you felt the first droplets of rain on your skin. “I-I think we should pack up and head to the car.”

“Damn, we’re parked far from here,” Keanu noted, getting back up on his feet as you swiftly started tossing the empty plates and glasses into the basket.

Within seconds, the downpour had grown stronger, quite heavy enough to begin soaking through your clothes in a short time. You were about to make a run for the car when Keanu called your name, pointing at a boardwalk some short distance away. 

“We could wait out the rain under there,” he suggested, and without hesitation, you grabbed his hand before dashing madly across the muddied sand.

It wasn’t long until you finally sought refuge underneath the wooden promenade, now sheltered from the unexpected rain. As you leaned against one of the support beams, you saw Keanu slumping down to the wet earth, seemingly disappointed with today’s turn of events. Sighing, you approached him carefully, lowering yourself down beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Keanu murmured defeatedly, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry that this date ended terribly.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” you spoke with a shake of your head. “I had fun today.”

Licking his lips, Keanu then shifted his gaze to you. “Did you really?”

“Of course, I did. Even though the weather cut our date short, you and I both know how much I love the rain.”

It was true. You loved the rain, but what made the moment even more special, more beautiful, was the fact that you were sitting there, watching it with the love of your life.

Basking in the serenity, Keanu’s arms came to wrap around you, and immediately you cuddled up against his side. Time passed slowly as he pulled you closer, the soft sound of his rhythmic breathing lulling you into pure relaxation. Your dream was to remain this way, endlessly surrounded by Keanu’s arms, the purest heaven you could ever want and have.

“Are you warm enough?”

Keanu’s voice was a quiet whisper, and you tilt your head up to meet his gentle gaze. “I could be warmer.”

With a smile that made your heart swell immensely, he leaned in slowly, his cold, delicate fingers brushing your cheek. Keanu then sweetly laid a kiss on your lips, bringing a tender warmth that resembled the high sun. When you eventually parted moments after, you pressed your forehead to his, soft sighs filling the comfortable tranquil of silence all around you.

“Better?” Keanu questioned, his hot breath fanning softly on your face.

Kissing him once more, you then exhaled deeply, sinking further in his embrace. “Better.”

And as the rain continued to steadily fall from the skies, you stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity, falling deeply and helplessly more in love together.

Forever and beyond.

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @lussdew @unaspiringwritings @planetkt​ @breakthenight​ @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

[gothhisoka]

𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖞

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 18- 𝔞 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Ships: Chrollo x Reader, Leorio x Kurapika, Hisoka x Illumi

Genre: romance, dark academia, royalcore, university AU

Word count: 3k

Background: This is from my (gothhisoka) fanfic on Wattpad and AO3 called Hunter University. It is Chrollo x OC, but I decided to change it around for Tumblr. Both Chrollo and y/n are hiding things from each other but are both feeling the same attraction. A masquerade ball is held at your university. You don’t know if he even wants to dance with you, but apparently he does. He wants to do even more than that.

Tags: Fluff, first kiss, sfw

The masquerade hall was astounding. The high stone walls were adorned with scarlet silk banners. Golden fabric streamers hung from every banister of the second-level balconies. As in the entrance, symbols of cherubs and mythical creatures were splashed across the ceiling in a dizzying array. The light was dim, for all the chandeliers were set low in the traditional style of Venetian masquerades. Candelabras were scattered on every table and upon every wall.

Symphonic music was emanating from the open stage in the front of the room. A live orchestra was playing a gentle concerto as the students poured in. It was only 7:10, so not many were on the floor. The true dancing would start in another couple of minutes.

It was a scene out of a fairytale. The hundreds of breathtakingly dressed students only added to the general fervor of it all.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Chrollo said as he looked towards you. It was unclear whether he was talking about the room or how you looked tonight. Your bright eyes shone out underneath a bronze mask, which was catching the candlelight within its shiny material.

Still entranced, you were led by Chrollo to the table they had reserved. The troupe followed behind, engrossed in their conversation while you both remained in your own little world. He put his hand on the small of your back, simply aching to touch you once again. The feeling was mutual.

On the table, there were glasses already set up accompanied by a lavish bouquet of flowers. Uvogin pulled out a couple of bottles of champagne he clearly swiped from the restaurant. Everyone dropped off their bags at the table.

It appeared as if not all of the troupe members would be dancing. Franklin was already seated with his arms crossed. You looked at him questioningly, after which he said, "I have to guard the stuff." It was clear by his tone that he actually meant "I don't like to dance."

You smiled placidly and nodded in understanding. He was an unusual sort of guy. She was beginning to like him already. In fact, the whole Phantom Troupe was becoming gradually more likable as the night progressed.

You looked for Kurapika to bid him one last warning before he got whisked away by Leorio. By the time she spotted him, it was already too late.

You watched as Kurapika scratched at the back of his head, suddenly unaware of what to do with his arms. He was apparently awestruck by his dance partner's appearance.

The two made their shy greetings. Kurapika reached for his hand as any chivalrous partner would do. 

Soon a waltz commenced, floating around the room. A subtle violin and cello duet beckoned people out onto the floor.

You watched as Kurapika led Leorio out, their suit jackets glimmering synchronously as the lights passed. They took position still near their group's table, but far enough to have room to dance.

The wide floor soon filled with numerous other couples. Hisoka led Illumi out alongside Uvogin and Nobunaga. Hisoka and Illumi were practically professional dancers from the very start, moving to an elaborate step that drew the attention of all the students. People nearly cleared the floor to make room for them. This annoyed Illumi to no end, while Hisoka displayed a wild grin. They twirled, dipped, and did intricate step sequences, unquestionably rehearsed to perfection.

The rest were not as remarkably polished. Still, they appeared to be equally enjoying themselves.

Leorio and Kurapika laughed as one of them accidentally stepped upon the other toes or missed a movement. While they lacked coordination, they surely didn't lack chemistry. This was a good sign.

You could see their mouths moving but the music drowned out their voices. Kurapika attempted to guide Leorio in the basic box step, turning him once in a while. 

Most ignored the cameramen or simply didn't notice them lurking in hidden spots. You had some otherworldly feeling that sensed them under the shadows in the balconies. 

"Are you done watching?" Chrollo asked, holding his hand out to you just as Kurapika had done with Leorio.

You hadn't realized you were still staring out towards the masked partners on the floor. The ball was entirely overwhelming; the sound, the rapid movements, and the room itself were causing your head to spin.

Nonetheless, you snapped out of it and processed what Chrollo had just said. You just got offered a dance. A dance with him. 

You knew his indicative gestures were leading somewhere. That somewhere was here, into his arms. 

In front of hundreds of students, not to mention journalists itching to get a photo of the boy who was so famous. Not to mention his dance partner, who was no more than a low-level hunter wannabe.

Now's not the time to get nervous. This is what you wanted. Isn't it?

You stared down at his hand as if to ask "for me?"

You peered up to see the most gentle face slowly becoming riddled with doubt.

"This is what you want, isn't it?"

Is it? 

Now that you are actually here, in the position that used to be visible only in your imagination, you feel immense pressure.

In these weeks past, you didn't even question what you were getting herself into. To be fair, you weren’t sure what this night would be, exactly. Would you be met with a closed-off boy whose coldness warded you away or the courteous man who would rather teach you nen lessons than see you fail?

Is it even safe to get this close?

Chrollo's personality had shifted in the span of the night. It became full of genuine interest rather than his usual impassive curiosity. He, as a person, was becoming all the more real.

Real was dangerous.

This stream of consciousness only took a second. It took one look into Chrollo's eyes to know what your answer would be.

"This is what I want."

It was the first step. No, rather it was your first leap off a skyscraper.

You were falling. Hard.

His grip was delicate, holding your hand as if it was made of glass. Chrollo felt strange, being so unsure. He was normally an expert at figuring out people– what they felt and why they acted the way they did. 

You, on the other hand, were a labyrinth. He had always been so hesitant for this reason. Chrollo needed to be able to figure out a person in order to get close to them. With you, there was something buried deeper than you let on. It was virtually impossible to uncover. You put up almost as good of a front as Chrollo.

Or perhaps it was Chrollo's own mind that was muddied at the thought of you. His intentions versus yours, his morals versus yours. It all began to matter very much. What would he think in the end, after he got out of your what he so desired?

Nevermind that now. For Chrollo was feeling a mutual enthusiasm that you were plainly exhibiting. He led you out to the floor.

The Phantom Troupe watched with apprehension. They weren't used to their boss being so amiable. He couldn't be swayed by a simple person, and yet here he was.

"Can you dance?" Chrollo turned to you, putting an arm upon your shoulder. You already almost melted under the single touch.

You had reached the middle of the floor, far from the troupe. Was he that confident in his own dancing? The center could be viewed from all sides and balconies. You were sure to stand out.

"Not well," you said candidly.

Chrollo began a light step, swaying from side to side. This newfound tenderness was surprising. He was treating you as if you were a queen. And you couldn't get enough of it.

Wanting to grasp for more of this certain side of him, you said, "I can do more than this."

"As you wish," Chrollo said with a gracious smile.

He immediately followed a more complicated step, falling in line with the other couples on the floor. You pretended to ignore their whispers.

Just as you thought. He is an incredible dancer.

Every time you struggled to keep up he would adjust his pace. You worked like hands on a clock, moving as if set to one another's rhythm. The music now was a quicker allegro beat.

Your attire fanned out as you turned: your right hand in his, your arm on his shoulder. 

Now it was the students' turn to stare at Chrollo and you. It was unclear if it was because they recognized the boy under the mask, or they were observing the electrifying chemistry.

You couldn't help but beam as you sailed across the floor. Chrollo did not break eye contact and you did your best to do the same. 

A feeling overcame you as you continued to hold his hand in yours. It couldn't be described as fireworks or sparks, as often depicted by the romance novels she's read. It was more of an awakening.

Despite the weather turning cold, you felt as if it was spring. A revival. Things were blossoming, the rain washed away the grey of winter.

He was your spring.

It was odd. For Chrollo could be explained more effectively as ominous and intimidating, unlike a bright spring day. He should've been cold stone walls, closed doors, secret passageways.

But no, he was warmth itself.

If only you would turn away for a second you would notice a coldness settle that hadn't been there before. 

The way he looked tonight in his dazzling suit and mask, the way he said all those uncharacteristically gracious words: these were the things you would have etched in your memory for a very, very long time. Now, without Chrollo it would feel as if something were missing.

You would not realize this yet, as you were still in a state of pure elation. It was only the beginning.

But this was the connection you felt. Having it defined opened up a world of possibilities. 

Who would've known, it all came into fruition at a masquerade ball.

                                          ━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━

After a couple more songs, you left the floor. Sweat prickled at your brow. You were left panting after a rapid final dance.

Several students couldn't help but clap. You hadn't even done a thing. You were sure it was Chrollo's dancing that gained all the attention.

"You're better than I expected," you said.

Chrollo brushed back his hair which had fallen in his face with all the movement.  "I would say the same to you, y/n." He smiled, sizing your up.

You didn't dispute his return of the compliment. He was right. 

At the group table, Kurapika and Leorio were sitting drinking glass after glass of the bootlegged champagne. It would've been inappropriate to bring alcohol to such a prestigious event if many other tables weren't doing the same. Apparently, the students here did know how to have a good time.

Chrollo went to talk to Franklin as you sat next to Leorio and Kurapika.

"You both were amazing!" Leorio exclaimed as you approached. 

You grinned, "Where have you two been?"

"We were on the floor too, didn't you see us?"

You tried to laugh it off, "No... I was a little distracted." 

To be fair, you didn't notice the cameras, the students, or the other dancers either. 

"Sooo are you two going back out?" Leorio asked, leaning on his hand. His words slurred slightly.

You looked over your shoulder at Chrollo. He looked serious as he talked to Franklin. "I'm not sure. Are you two?"

"Yes, we plan on trying the group dance. Just like we practiced," Kurapika said, giving you a knowing look.

The synchronized dance was the signature of the ball. All those who learned it were allowed to participate. It was the last dance, so they would still be sitting for a while. The time was now around 9:00 and the hall would be closed by 12:00 a.m.

Before they could converse any further, Chrollo gently put a hand on your shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have something to show you, y/n."

He held his hand out again. This time you took it with no hesitation. 

"Ok," you leaped up, flattening out your dress.

You were all too willing to go wherever Chrollo pleased. There wasn't even a point where she needed to remind herself who this man was. His charm had influenced you too far already. There was no going back.

Kurapika gave you a warning look. You threw him back a smile. This did nothing to reassure him.

Chrollo interlaced his fingers slowly with yours, hesitating as you crossed under the balconies. You could've dissolved right then and there. It only further confirmed his gentlemanly attitude and respect towards you.

You couldn't even look at him. You felt your face growing hotter by the second. Thank god for a mask and several layers of foundation.

To your surprise, you were led far from the dance floor. You ended up at a small door in a quiet corner of the ballroom. The spot was underneath the alcoves and not a soul was in sight. Moonlight poured in from the tiny stained-glass windows.

"It's through here," Chrollo said, his voice barely audible over the orchestral music.

"Do I get to know where you're taking me?" You stopped in your tracks. You were thinking of what Kurapika would say. Even though you would follow him at the drop of a coin, you weren’t that stupid. He is a man, before all else. 

Something flashed in Chrollo's eyes. Was he hurt by your sudden distrust? 

"I'll show you. I promise you'll like it," Chrollo replied, creaking open the door.

There was nothing at first, only darkness. But stepping through the door bestowed an even more enchanting sight than the ballroom.

You gasped, "I didn't realize there was a courtyard out here."

Chrollo looked at you as if he were seeing you the first time tonight again. The profile of your face was highlighted by the moonlight. your jawline was your only feature that stood out, the rest of your was soft under the haze of darkness. The surrounding blue contrasted against your fading red lipstick. your hair had grown significantly more disheveled but it still looked utterly smooth. If Chrollo was bolder he would've run his hand through it and took you by your waist and done things he surely would regret for initiating too soon... he wanted to savor the moment when it inevitably came.

He smiled, despite himself. Neither of you noticed the cold, still warmed from dancing only moments ago. Chrollo watched as your eyes soaked in the scene before you.

It seemed as if the bushes and trees saved their last breaths for this space alone. Fall leaves hung over a gravel path. Ivy snaked up the surrounding structures, all encapsulating the tiny yard. A small table sat in the center of the path upon which a lantern was placed. He had come prepared.

The whole night: he had anticipated it all. He had realized your love, and, at this moment, you realized his. What he had yet to figure out was the depth of those feelings or where they came from. Or, most importantly, what was tucked underneath those feelings. That was what tonight was for.

The orchestra still echoed faintly through the ancient walls.

"Shall we dance? I never did like dancing in front of a crowd,"

You redirected your eyes to an equally beautiful scene. You were still in reverence. It was obvious now that he had planned it all.

Your heart swelled like an ocean wave, but all you could manage to get out was, "Are we supposed to be here?"

Chrollo looked at you dangerously, "To remind you, I'm not supposed to be anywhere." 

Before you could say another word, Chrollo stepped forward and lifted both his and your own mask off of your faces. 

"There."

Chrollo's undivided visage was in view now. The curve of his nose and tops of his cheekbones caught the light of the moon. His downcast eyelashes were full, framing his silver eyes.

As for Chrollos view, he simply needed to see your whole face to be sure that what you felt was really true. When he saw the arching of your lips and widened eyes, he knew it was.

He grasped your hand in preparation to waltz, deliberately intertwining his hand with yours. 

Timed perfectly, the music slowed. It was a couples' number. Inevitably, this had also somehow been planned by Chrollo.

This dancing was quite different than before. It was full of significance.

The song picked up with a violin. Chrollo pulled you close, your bodies almost touching. Your heat radiated off of one another. You felt almost giddy with attraction. What you wanted to do to him was far past your confidence, but you wanted it all the same.

His eyes didn't leave yours. A slight smile persisted on his lips. He hadn't enjoyed himself so much in years. And the last time he felt something like this, it wasn't nearly as genuine.

You swayed from side to side with only the moonlight and distant concerto guiding your steps. You made a move to rest your head on his shoulder. It was so that you could not look into his eyes as you spoke your next words. You snaked your arms behind his neck while he placed his around your hips. It felt good to be so close. You felt secure in his arms.

You really hoped this was going where she thought it was. But you needed to be certain.

"I want to know if this is true," you whispered, breaking the tranquil silence. Your breath was hot against his neck. It drove him absolutely mad. 

Unknowingly, you had echoed back the words Chrollo had been retracing in his head throughout the night. Is this true?

He feigned ignorance of the meaning behind your statement. "What's true?" Chrollo whispered back.

"Is all this premeditation for something else? Another scheme?"

Chrollo suddenly turned serious, "I will never do that to you again. This is for real."

You pulled back to look into his eyes, "But what is this?" 

Your face was lined with apprehension. After all that happened tonight, it still wasn't clear. Chrollo needed to change that.

He looked down at you, attempting to convey what you meant to him in his eyes. They overflowed with tenderness, admiration, and worship, even. 

You hadn't realized that he had these emotions in him. Now you understood. It was all because they were reserved for you.

His movement was swift. He lowered his face to yours, soaking in your divine scent. You didn't anticipate what was about to happen until his lips delicately brushed against your own, asking for an invitation. He clearly didn't need one, for your body responded immediately. Your hand trailed up to the side of his face. Chollo pulled your hips towards him. Your eyes fluttered shut.

And you kissed. 

It was intoxicating.

The taste of him nearly silenced your thoughts. It was a tang of wine and sweetness. You tried to let the feeling seep into your bones, agonizing over its ephemeral nature. 

Your surroundings dissolved into the inky night. You focused on how soft his mouth felt, how his hands upon your hips made you want to yield to all he could offer, and, in turn, all you could ever desire.

Seconds later, you unwillingly pulled apart. Your whole body tingled, edging for more. Both of your heartbeats were fluttering a rapid cadence. Remaining there for a moment– foreheads touching, breath tickling one another lips– you savored each other's presence. 

Your kiss was unlike anything either of you had experienced before. It was born out of lust but resulted in something deeper. Floating to the surface was an unbound attraction sparked by one mouth on another.

You both were left smiling with flushed cheeks. Goosebumps prickled on your arms.

"I hope that made it clear," Chrollo said pulling away at last.

The warmth disappeared and you were left in a state of longing. You could still feel the touch of his lips upon yours, a ghost of his sensitive movements.

You smiled lightly at him, "It did."

Chrollo held out an arm for you. "We best be getting back now."

You were frozen in place, coming to your senses. Holy shit.

The enormity of what that kiss meant came crashing down upon you. What would this mean moving forward? Everything had seemed so temporary with Chrollo, coming in and out of your life as he did in the past month. Was this temporary as well?

There was no time to dwell upon the future of their relationship. Although the promise of privacy in the courtyard tempted you to stay, there was still one more number to dance. 

                                      ━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━