#not to mention she’s looked the best she’s ever looked on the red carpet since dressing in barbie fits

[fairytsuk1]

four seasons | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

prompt: meeting at a holiday resort, both with friends or family tagging along

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

words: 5.4k

warnings: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, spin the bottle, marijuana mentioned, alcohol, drunk sex, begging

It's everything you thought it'd be and more. The sun shines on you in a bright gleam that warms your skin. Your plans had finally made it out of the group chat! This was going to be the best vacation ever. Your sandals slap against the concrete as you trod to your friends with your luggage.

"Hey! Can you guys believe this? It's so beautiful!"

Ayami beams, her short hair bouncing as she nods eagerly, "I can already feel myself re-energizing! All this nature and ocean—oh, it's going to be wonderful!"

Ryoka's hand slips around her girlfriend's waist with a relaxed smile. "Hell yeah. We should go ahead and check-in."

"Already done! No need to thank me," Natsumi brags as she flings the dark oak door open, "had to do it since you guys were taking your sweet time getting out of the car!"

Your cheeks hurt from how much you're smiling. You must've done something heroic in your past life, maybe saving a war-torn city, to have this warm feeling fluttering in your chest. The resort is made better with your friend's banter and complimentary slippers that sink into plush carpet. 

An attendant explains things in a blur, yet your eyes are locked onto the glittering ripples of water that peek through a window. The pool is on the first floor, she says. And don't forget to ____, you ignore. Soon enough, all four of you are dashing to claim a spot on white resin lounge chairs. It feels like a dream when your manicured toes glisten under the hot summer air. It becomes more like a fairy tale when your wandering eyes land on something interesting.

He's hot. Scratch that; he's more than hot! Lecherous eyes start at sopping blonde hair pushed back by muscled biceps and veiny forearms. The way the water rolls down his back is absolutely sinful. Even his abs flex as he cockily smirks, pushing back against his red-headed friend during their game of roughhousing.

Not only is he easy on the eyes, but he looks like he fucks, which is the perfect maraschino cherry on top. You could bite into him, and it'd be sugary sweet as the sticky juice runs red down your jugular. Yeah, you could eat him alive and he'd love it. Confidence thrums through you, and you know your time is now. At the same time, he stands casually in the water, merely observing and completely unaware.

You slip in effortlessly and unnoticed, lurking like a shark behind him as you plan your words before making yourself known.

"Hey," you chirp, hands wading in the water.

You expect him to turn to you with a sly smile; maybe he'd grow close and lean on the pool edge as he asked for your name and whether you were single. Only he didn't do any of that. His eyes scan you like you're a drab beige wall, and then he has the nerve to shrug you off.

"Hey."

It's awkward. It's tense. It's very unexpected.

"What's your–"

"I don't need a drink right now," he dismisses with a casual wave.

It actually stuns you into silence. Your mouth drops open and then closes, and then opens again, "I-I'm not a worker! Do workers wear bikinis where you're from?"

The man sneers at your reaction and finally turns to face you. He's taller, broader, and you wish he wasn't so fine because he was turning out to be such a dick. You stand up straighter, squaring your shoulders to stare frustratedly into his eyes.

"No, but I don't bother paying attention to extras when I'm trying to relax," and lewd eyes dip down to your cleavage, "but maybe I can spare you some time."

"An extra!? Oh, fuck you!"

It comes out harshly, and your bottom lip droops as you stare at him: "I just came by to introduce myself, but never mind. I'm leaving."

"Then introduce yourself, or did I scare ya' off?"

You've never met a man so bold. A man with the audacity to call you an extra and still so obviously commit your curves to memory. Introductions come out in a stutter from you with warm cheeks, "and what's your name, so I can report your behavior with the front desk."

"It's Bakugou," he grunts. "Be my guest."

"I will," you challenge.

"How about I report you for harassment, hah?"

"You insulted me first!"

Bakugou shrugs with a smirk. It irritates you beyond belief to see his smug little face. The sun burns too bright and hot on you two, firing you up and encouraging you to storm out of the pool. Bakugou takes the opportunity to leer at your ass as you crawl out the side, wet swim skirt sticking to your curves and making him tug his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Damn," he grunts as you prissily walk off.

Perhaps he judged you too harshly. But then he thought about it, and you just seemed like a spoiled brat. A pretty one but a brat nonetheless. He didn't take things like that. He reassures himself under his breath, but his thoughts know what he's really thinking about: sliding those wet bikini bottoms off you and spreading your legs. It would be all for him, too. You did approach him first.

You, however, collect your things in a huff. Your move to the other end of the pool may have been petty, but you don't care. Things had to be thought through. Was it worth actually pursuing this sexy asshole guy? As you type a pro-con list into your phone, Ryoka pats your shoulder, "Are you planning on missing the game for your phone?"

The exercise will do you some good. After squeezing your friend's hand and promising to return after you change, you opt to release your frustrations on a good game of volleyball.

After a bit, it's even hotter and you've only gotten sexier. It's important to note as Bakugou stares at you from the sidelines. Sure, you were prissy, but your body was killer, and the snarl escaping you every time you spiked the ball sent wrecking balls of fantasy into his mind. You were a spitfire, and Bakugou tries to swallow the flush when you look at him in an intense adrenaline haze.

A block. A quick run to the side for a spike. Light cheering. This was the sweet escape you needed, giving you just enough space to let out your blood thirst. If you had fangs, then you'd be chomping at everyone's face! You were in the groove. Your eyes pass over him easily. And then you meet again.

Parted, pink lips with beads of sweat on your upper lip. Your hair falls messily, framing your face with sticky strands as your dark eyes pierce Bakugou's. For a minute, neither of you seems to exist in this reality. You both stay in this limbo for a second longer than you should before your head snaps forward to bump an incoming ball. Bakugou’s frozen to the core with genuine butterflies in his stomach. He doesn't even think this has ever happened to him before, or even that it ever would.

A whistle is blown, and you’re cheering with your team. It always felt good to win. It was even better when you knew you had eyes on you.

"Good game, good game! Yeah, you did amazing, Ayami…" You towel off as you relish in the glow of your success. It wasn't all due to you, but you were being a bit of a try-hard.

You don't even notice how Bakugou makes his way through the crowd. How his lips curl into a frown as someone bumps into him, and how he taps your shoulder with a gruff, "Hey."

Your head turns with hair that cracks like a whip. Obviously, you recognize him immediately. You're not happy.

"Hey," you mutter, toweling off and ready to escape. "Nice seeing you."

"Wait a minute," Bakugou's hand curls around your wrist, and you're so irritated to feel heat rush through you at seeing the sinewy muscle move. "Lemme talk to you."

"I gotta get in the shower. So, no."

"You're being stubborn. I'm sorry for earlier," he huffs with eyes that lack the confidence to look straight at you. "Let me buy you a soda or somethin'."

"What makes you think I want a soda from you, an extra?"

He almost wants to shout in your face, but he knows there's no way around that. Bakugou mumbles about not meaning it while kicking at the ground, and your posture stays stiff. It happens so quickly you almost miss it, but you catch a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

"What's so funny?! You're a real jerk, laughing and everything when you insulted me and–"

"You're all defensive at being called an extra. It's cute." 

"I have a name," you nearly stomp your foot in exasperation despite the flush crawling up your skin.

"I forgot. You stuttered it out last time," he provokes calmly with a tilt of his head. Really, he just wants to hear that pretty name on your lips again.

You try to tell yourself that there's no time to think about the compliment that flies and waves in the air like a kite. You introduce yourself calmly, emphasizing the syllables and ensuring he gets it.

Bakugou repeats your name so slowly. So pointedly, velvety tongue and eyes narrowing. You could imagine him whispering it into your neck as strong hips hump to meet yours. Maybe in the morning, with a kiss on the cheek and the taste of coffee on your tongue. He puts so much care into repeating your name that you almost cave when he asks if you want to get smoothies together.

You're a strong, independent woman. That and, well, his pissed-off face was sexy. Your glossy lips smirk at him as you cock your hip, "Sorry, I'm getting drinks with friends. I'll catch you later, though, yeah?"

"...Alright, yeah."

The way you ditch him in the dust leaves him half-chubbed in his shorts. God, you were such a cock tease. If only he could kiss you and show you what you're missing out on by playing cat and mouse. Thick fingers adjust his shorts, and Bakugou pushes his hair back, opting to turn back to his friends indulging in flower necklaces and drunk karaoke.

If you wanted to be the mouse, he had no problem being the cat.

Everything's clear-headed and far too boring and bright. Within time and the coaxing with your friends; you're grinning ear to ear after too many puffs of a joint and sips of cocktails. Things tilt around you, and the music sounds irresistible as you feel the rhythm lend you dance moves. Everything feels like ecstasy as you twirl in circles with your crew. The alcohol was flowing, and you were starting to have that craving for closeness as things ramped up and up.

Natsumi practically topples you over as she blushes into your face. "Come with me. I made some friends."

“Friends? What kinda friends?”

 "Don’t ask, just go. Come on, you have to! They’re cool, you really gotta meet 'em," your friend pleads as you give her a reluctant look.

"Well, okay…"

Natsumi hiccups as she escorts you a few tables over. She giggles about someone being your type, and there's a real worry that the alcohol is clouding her mind, and you’re about to have to reject a loser.

"Hey, Natsumi! I was wondering where you went!"

A yellow-toned boy speaks up, face flushed as he waves a sloppy hand from where he rests on a beachy pull-out. Next to him, Bakugou nurses a rum and coke, eyes red and cast downward towards the ground. They lazily crawl a path up to your eyes, a bit woozy but flickering with recognition.

No fucking way. Of course, he's here, and of course, he looks fantastic! You know your dress looks immaculate. There was no denying that, but Bakugou left your mouth embarrassingly dry. His white button-up was nice, but it was more about what it revealed; tanned skin and the promise of more the further you looked. As you looked down at his body, Bakugou looked up at yours.

As you sit down, you can't help but open your mouth, "What are you doing here?"

"My friends dragged me out, I could be sleeping by now."

You find yourself letting out a small laugh and turning toward him with interest. He really wasn't so bad.

“You sleep early?”

“You don’t?”

Amid it all, Bakugou and you end up squished together as the budding love story of your two friends blossoms. Every time their heated make out spills into limbs crossing over into your bubble, you grunt in frustration, inevitably scooting closer to your frenemy with a slight sway.

"She is so ridiculous," you comment on Natsumi with a slight huff. "So is your friend, by the way."

"Maybe they're made for each other," he snorts.

A beat of silence passes by as you both observe each-other. It was really more like admiring, though.

 "Why're you so standoffish? I said I was sorry, called you pretty, ‘nd you don't wanna give me another chance?"

He grumbles when he says it but looks curious as his teeth sink into his lip for a split second. You almost get lost in the motion as you unconsciously lean closer like a moth to a flame.

"I didn't peg you as someone who begged."

"Sometimes you make mistakes, hm? And I'm not begging, babe, trust me."

The conversation dies, but the tension grows larger. The way his voice dropped made your thighs squeeze together. Blood flowed south as Bakugou traced over your red lips and briefly down to your cleavage–nice, he smirked.

"Well, whatever," you pray the sip of your lychee martini gives you a long enough reprieve to think of how to coyly flirt back. "What are you doing here anyway? Vacationing? Dying of an illness and this is your last hoorah?"

"Just relaxing. What're you doing besides bein' a brat. Spending daddy's money?"

"I paid for this trip myself, actually!"

"I like a smart woman," he says, moving to brush his thumb lightly against your cheek. He pulls away just as fast, and you can smell the breeze of his icy cologne. "I paid for myself, too. Can't rely on anyone or anything!"

You see the mask slip just a second. The calm persona dropped to reveal his boyish grin and messy hair.

"Yeah, you really can't."

It was so terrible that you knew deep down he was cute. You couldn't pretend at all. Now that you're starting to know him, you're falling head first into really liking him. You weren't sure if your girls' trip vacation could withstand a passionate, whirlwind romance.

"Oh my god, you know what would be totally fucking fun right now? What if we played a game? You guys know spin the bottle! C'mon," Natsumi beams excitedly.

"I haven't done that since I was still smoking cigarettes!" Ryoka shakes her head with a laugh.

"But, come on," she gives you all a pleading look. "If we haven't done it in forever, wouldn't it be fun to do it one last time?"

Natsumi's heartfelt yet drunken rambles strike a chord within all of you. You glance at Bakugou, who doesn't reply, only shrugging in acquiescence to the group. To hell with it, you call, raising your drink in the air.

"You know what, let's go for it! You're right, Natsumi."

Bakugou eyes you curiously as you stand to hug your friend with a slight wobble in your step. You had a point. To hell with it!

Moments later, you all were knee-rubbing, stumbling idiots sitting in a circle. The more you admire Bakugou as you sit across from him, the more you're hoping the stars align with the spin of the bottle. The kiss would be innocent. Fun and games. It meant nothing. That's what you told yourself to repent for your future sins.

A bead of sweat glides down the back of your neck as the glass goes round and round. You watch as Natsumi eagerly kisses a flushed Kaminari, who is all too eager to receive it. Ryoka and Ayami are familiar but sweet. Kirishima lands a peck on you, but it's nothing crazy.

You miss the way Bakugou's eyes glitter with disappointment every time the green bottle spun past him mockingly, taunting him deviously with the promise of vodka-tinged kisses. Only then do you both find a line drawn between point A, you, and point B, him.

"Finally," Ryoka slurs out.

Suddenly, you're nervous. You're nervous as you sit up a bit more and scoot closer over the bottle containing the will of fate. He looks calm and relaxed, his eyelids lowered just enough to make him look… wanting. Knees graze the carpet as you inch closer until you both can feel each other's breath.

The music is still bumping. The alcohol is still flowing, yet you're stuck in this standstill with nothing to break you out of your reverie. Other than the kiss that's planted on your lips, Bakugou tastes like rum and mint gum. You wonder if you taste like lychee, or maybe you'll mix into an entirely new flavor that leaves you both with incessant cravings.

You're unsure when or who pulls away first, but it happens. Your butt plops down right as the round of giggles surrounds you. Bakugou smirked as he sat back, crossing his legs and taking a smug swig of his drink. It was unfair that you were left dazed; he was the reason for it all.

You okay? He mouths over the talking that's come instead of the next bottle spin.

Are you? You ask with a smirk, flipping your hair in jest.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a full-on grin. You feel something fond bloom in your chest. Something that makes the sound of ringing bells when you see that flash of teeth and a glimpse of a slick tongue. Someone suggests dancing, and pairs of legs come into view as they stumble out as a crew, a unit. There are two missing cogs. You both stay sitting and facing each other.

"I thought you said you were okay," he jokes as he scoots closer.

You realize you have a tendency to mimic him, "I am. You're the one who didn't even try to pretend to follow."

"I don't pretend anything, pretty. I do and say what I mean."

There's a beat of silence, and your clit throbs at the tone of his voice.

"You know what I mean?"

His voice is deep, almost mocking, as he croons at you. You're going to fuck. It might be now, on the last day of your resort, but it would happen. Set in stone, if you will.

"I think I do."

"Mhm. Let's go dance, gotta show you what a real dancer looks like."

Bakugou offers a firm hand and pulls you up like you weigh nothing. It makes you feel tiny, and you wonder if the same effect will happen as you sway your hips against his dick.

You find yourself dancing to Nelly, and hearing lulls about being a promiscuous girl. It makes satisfaction thrum in your chest at having success in your findings. Grinding did, indeed, produce the same effect. Bakugou was trying to dominate your form, and you let it happen.

Bit by bit, you find yourself caring less about the group and becoming more preoccupied with Bakugou. You let him buy you drinks, giggling as your hands jokingly interlace before you pull away coyly. He only smirks at you, chasing you wherever you go, as if he didn't want you to forget him in your intoxicated parade.

He tells you to call him Katsuki when you slur his last name out, gripping the white button as you pout tiredly, "I want to go back to my room."

"Since when am I your keeper, huh?"

Katsuki lays a steady hand on the curve of your waist and lets you fall into him.

"Don't be mean, we bonded sooo much. I thought you were this asshole guy, but you're actually kinda funny and sexy."

"I think I knew that last part. Remember when you tried this on me before?"

"Are you dumb enough to still reject me?"

"Nah, not this time," he says, making sure to drink in your gaze as he does.

Thankfully, you'd already had your first kiss. That made it easier for him to lean forward and press his lips against yours. The promise of something more, and you practically purred as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Katsuki's hands skirt down your back, down to your hips, and pull you so close, "You're sexy, too."

A bartender squawks at your behavior, and his voice floats over the music and sticky kisses to yell for you to get a room! The man at your side noses your neck and then juts forward.

"Come to my room," and he's so gruff. Like he knows you want this, "Wanna get you alone and see how feisty you are then."

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth. Surely, your friends would be fine; your eyes flit between him and the crowd dancing behind him. Yeah, they'd be alright. Your hand slips into his, and he's quick to tug you next to him by your waist. He makes you unsteady and chuckles, "Let's get goin', then."

Neither of you is composed as you tumble through Katsuki's–clearly luxurious–room onto his plush bed. He's not afraid to lift you with his raw strength and place you right where he wants you. It makes you laugh, tinged with shyness, as his red predatory eyes sweep over you before settling on your face.

It's silent as both eyes hold this deep, wanting gaze. He crawls closer, and you lay back further; he's on top of you with a forearm dipping into the mattress and a veiny hand supporting his weight. Katsuki doesn't touch you as if he's waiting for something. You can't wait anymore, and you're ungracefully yanking him closer till his body weight rests on you, and you can feel his hardness poking at your thigh.

He must have been waiting on you–the bastard! But you can't deny that feeling the rippling strength resting on your body and pressing you into the mattress feels good. You and Katsuki exchange saccharine kisses as your bodies grind together like you're one. He grits his teeth and takes a sharp inhale when your wandering hand brushes against his bulge, "don't, fuck, don't do that."

"Why? Sensitive?"

Katsuki's vermilion eyes meet yours and narrow, "you're such a tease, you know?"

His voice is low and honeyed as he slowly peels your skirt from your thick thighs.

"All I did was ignore you the first time–"

"And then I did the second!"

Seemingly having had enough of your quips, a hush falls over you when his hand swats at your thigh, "Yeah, and you're still under me, begging for my cock. Ironic, right?"

He then snickers when sticky strings stretch from your slick pussy to the cotton underwear.

"She's beggin' too."

In a flash, he's lapping at your folds and groaning at how sweet you taste.

"Oh! Oh my god, w-wait!"

“Nuh-uh, no waiting.”

He's so messy with it. His chiseled nose bumps against your clit with every lap as he mixes spit with your leaking arousal; it's so debauched, and yet you're wailing for more as you try to push his face further between your thighs. Katsuki groans and your eyes meet right when he suckles your clit with his plush, rosy lips.

"Y-Your mouth's so good, ohfuck!"

Katsuki lets out a pleased hum before wrangling your squirming hips under a flexing forearm, "don' move too much. Wanna enjoy this, babe."

His right hand comes up to toy with your soaked hole. His teeth are sharp, and he's downright predatory in how he sinks two fingers into you. They're thicker than yours; a keening whimper escapes you.

"C'mon, tell me how it feels. Since you've been dyin' for it, I want a review, baby."

There's a wet clicking sound as fingers crook against that deliciously torturous spot, leaving stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“Gonna cum! Wanna cum, ‘mygod, ‘tsukiii!”

"Already? Such a needy girl," and he latches his tongue to your puffy clit, massaging it as your pleasure uncoils into a white-hot explosion.

Somewhere in the haze, you can hear Katsuki murmuring, "Good girl, good girl," and leaving sharp kisses on your inner thighs. He chuckles at how you jump, how cute, and sighs into your neck before biting your pulse point.

"Holy fuck," you mumble, hands wringing into his shirt as he peels off his shirt and makes his way up yours.

"You alright? Looked like things were good," and he has the nerve to snicker at you. "It's okay to admit it."

"You're such a cocky bastard. When are you gonna fuck me?"

Katsuki's hands are practically already in his pants as he unbuckles his belt. He shoves his jeans down, and your eyes widen at how big he looks, the fat head leaving a dark patch of pre-cum against his gray boxers. You're coming closer as he tugs off his underwear, leaving him exposed. His cock bobs, smearing on his navel, while a throaty groan escapes his lips once you wrap a soft hand around him. He's so hot and weighty in your hand that you can feel how he practically pulses in your hand; you can't help but want to go in for a little taste…

He's gentle as thick fingers press back on the crown of your head, a tut escaping his lips as he shakes his head, "No way. I'll cum way too fast, wanna give it to you good."

The scratchiness of his voice leaves your thighs pressing together. Katsuki kisses you before motioning for you to settle on your hands and knees.

"Like this?"

You're practically mewling at him! Your back arches so tauntingly, cute butt perked up in the air and swaying back and forth. Katsuki draws close, and your eyelids are fluttering when his fat head bumps against your soaked folds, "ohfuck, stop admiring me already."

"And here I thought you wanted it all nice and sweet," and you're whimpering as the head barely breaches past your pussy. "But, I'll give it to ya' how you like it."

With that, his hands are smoothing over the curve of your back as his heavy balls press against your pussy clit. You're already caving for him, with eyes threatening to roll towards the ceiling as his hips stick to yours. He's so full inside you that you can barely move, barely breathe, only able to leak around him as he grunts, "so fuckin' tight. 'S like you're a virgin."

"Katsukiii. Fuck, pleasepleaseplease move!"

He hums thoughtfully, hips rocking just the slightest inside your gummy walls.

"Ask me again," and he punctures it with a thrust that leaves you breathless.

"Please, wanna feel you fuck me. I-I've been waiting for your annoying ass, I wanna cum so bad…"

The man behind you doesn't seem convinced, though his hips move just a tad faster. " C'mon. I know you can do it. What is it you want again?"

He's pushing you to your breaking point. Katsuki's strong enough that he can press forward and bend you further into that delicious arch, nearly fucking you into the mattress if he would just move!

"Oh god, fuck me. Need to feel you take control, Katsuki, I-I can't! I need you, need you so bad, 'm gonna cry. I jus' wanna feel you breed me, please!?"

"Was that so hard?"

Within seconds, he's hunkering down and fucking you within an inch of your life. Your hands desperately cling to the duvet as if that'll ground you, but he's moving too hard and fast!

"S-So deep, ohshit!"

"Ngh, yeah? You're fucking grippin' me, I love how you sound, how you taste, how you feel–fuuuuck. Let me have it, baby."

You're wailing as you gush around him. The smell of sex is overpowering, and your panting breaths mingle with Katsuki's. You can't help but push back just a bit, the two of you joined together so intimately. His muscles ripple with every rock into your cunt. You wish you could see how debauched he looks–though your ears are privy to the hot groans and curses flying out of him as he slides home over and over and over again.

Katsuki loses himself in your pussy, head tipping back to expose the expanse of his throat as his balls tighten with his orgasm. God, fuck, did you say to breed you? He tries to recover as he watches your sneaky hand desperately rub you till you're trying to run from his thrusts (to which he only tuts and brings you back full force towards him). The slick, papping sounds echo, and you're not even sure what you're saying as you wail for him.

"Oh, 'm gonna cum all over you. Ohfuckfuckfuck, wait! I-I'm gonna, Katsuki!"

"Yeah? Cum all over this dick, let me feel it. Fuck, 'm gonna cum too, gonna fill you up."

Your wrist twists another tight circle, and you're falling apart. Your thighs shake and tight walls squeeze Katsuki, trying to draw him as deep as possible as he hits your g-spot dead on. A cry escapes you, and you know his base is creamy from your orgasm. In the haze, you can tell he's close by how his fingers twitch around your hips; you start mewling weakly for him, "cum inside me. Ohmygod!!”

He's sure he's leaving bruises, and yet he doesn't even care as he shoots rope after rope inside you. God, your pussy sucks him in like it wants every drop; despite the sensitivity, Katsuki can't help but keep moving till you're whining from overstimulation. Pulling out slowly and giving your thigh a playful swat, the two of you practically collapse into the soft sheets.

Katsuki's hand quickly grabs your chin and pulls you to face him. " Are you good?"

With your hair mussed and bruises littering your body, you were more than good. A soft nod, and then you're scooting closer for warmth. Katsuki lets it happen to your joy, a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he hoists you close.

"Good, you gonna run off of me, now?"

"No. Are you?"

"It's my room, you stalker," he teases with a toothy grin. His features are relaxed, and his red eyes are a bit glazed.

He looks wonderful. Beautiful, even.

—

You review your mental checklist one last time as you pace about your room, door open. How could it have all ended so soon? You'd spent the rest of your days happily fucking, drinking, and soaking in the luxuries of the resort.

Katsuki lingers by the doorway. A flicker of fondness grows into a fire when you turn to see him and smile. When did he get so soft?

"Hey! What's up?"

"What's up? It's your last day, and you're what's upping me."

"Katsukiii," you drag out the syllables and catch the faintest smirk on his lips. "Don't get too sad while I'm gone."

"Please," he scoffs and rolls his eyes, the two of you making eye contact that holds longer than it should.

The two of you shouldn't be so dramatic; you should try to steel yourself. It's not like you've known each other for that long, Katsuki thinks before reaching out and pulling you into a loose hug.

"See ya," he grumbles.

"Hehe, text me! Call me whenever," you mumble into the muscle of his chest.

He smells like the start of a campfire, mixed with a cool cologne that wafts like the breeze of a nearby ocean. You pull away and look into the tides of his eyes, the Red Sea staring back at you, before he gently kisses your lips.

"I'll think about it. For now, I'll walk you out," and he wraps a possessive arm around your waist.

There was no other option; he was walking you out. You squawk at his comment, "That is not an 'I'll think about it' statement!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, lemme think on it."

"Stop it!"

[harleybarbarahandler]

“margot robbie needs to let the barbie red carpet outfit thing go” why do you people hate fun plus if I was LITERALLY BARBIE i would never be letting that shit go I’d still be wearing my barbie fits in the retirement home

[yzzart]

Love your Tom blyth fics an unhealthy amount!!! I’m picturing reader and Tom being all lovey dovey at the premiers but playing it off as really good bestfriends UNTIL she goes to kiss him on the cheek and in instinct he turns his head to kiss her on the lips so they just say fuck it and hard launch there and then x

"An unplanned situation."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: a small gesture, with a sweet intention, revealed a promising secret.

word count: 1.359!

notes: i started this request in the morning and only had the opportunity to finish it a few minutes ago, forgive me for that, anon! — i hope you like it and of course, feel free to share ideas with me!

"Y/N, look here!"

Another request, among others, screams and countless flashes, was directed to you; being, theoretically, almost impossible to identify who had demanded your image. — There were so many voices mixing, not to mention the music in the background, but, you tried your best to pay attention to most of the cameras.

However, it wasn't anything you weren't used to; something that has already been normalized in your life.— And during the premiere of The ballad of songbirds and snake it was no different, and it was splendid; simply perfect. — Not to mention, the feeling of gratitude that grew in your chest.

Cameras and cell phones captured your every movement, your poses and the way your perfectly chosen dress was valued and highlighted on your body. — And how it matched the color palette of the film. — Everything was being recorded, at the exact moment, posted and commented on all social networks.

You had the opportunity to meet, talk and take photos with some of the cast. — It was so pleasant, the company and unity that everyone developed during the filming of the film was inexplicable and so adorable; you were grateful to have worked with so many talented people. — There were some people who were absent, until now, in your eyes, but you would definitely meet them again on the carpet.

And, of course, your eyes roamed the decorated room, matching the elements of the film, and crowded in search of a specific person. — It wasn't exaggerated words to say that you were starting to feel uncomfortable because he was missed; and the cameras recorded it. — Silent questions, which would be written, formed in the minds of the presenters and photographers.

Your boyfriend had yet to appear on the red carpet; perhaps he is giving a quick and curious interview or greeting someone. — That's what was going on in your head.

You and Tom had a secret relationship, ever since you met behind the scenes, in front of the world and all the cameras that may exist in it; something that was so risky and at the same time adventurous. — And that, as incredible as it might seem, you knew how to disguise it in front of your fans; even though they gradually became suspicious with comments, interactions and behind-the-scenes photos.

They were either smart or you and Tom were too far over the line. — This question was not important or essential for the moment. — And you considered each other best friends for interviews or responses to comments; you tried your best.

And so, Rachel sent countless screenshots of tweets, which talked about or mentioned the relationship between you and Tom, to you. — It's impossible to deny how funny it was.

Persisting in continuing to look for him and for a few seconds, your eyes meet his blue and so charming irises. — Its shade of blue was a magnificent and beautiful combination; something you would never get tired of admiring. —And there was no other thing, or anyone, that could take his eyes off you.

As if the only thing that mattered at that moment was you. — And everything around him simply disappeared.

"There you are!" — Tom walked towards you, easily as there weren't so many people on the carpet, and an enthusiastic smile forming on his lips; also accompanied by cameras and intense flashes. — "And so beautiful!"

Holding a part of your long and dazzling dress so as not to hinder your steps, you met him, and without wasting any time, hugged him. — A common gesture, and not so different or strange, for the spectators; so, you thought. — Tom's arms went around your waist, holding your protectively for a little while, while your arms positioned themselves around his neck.

Tom's fragrance, which you liked so much, filled your nose; it felt so good, and you felt your eyes weaken, contaminated by it. — And the british man was aware of that.

"You look perfect, always." — The older man distanced himself, just a little, and brought his face closer to your ear, wanting only you to hear. — "The most beautiful woman that has ever crossed my eyes." — The lenses probably captured a reddish pigmentation on your cheeks and it was not part of your makeup.

You placed one of your hands on his chest, and looking directly into his eyes; that shone at you, and it wasn't just because of the influence of the lights in your direction. — Tom's gaze was sincere, and passionate, intensely fascinating you. — He conveyed what he felt most with just his eyes.

And that was one of the facts about him that you were passionate about and recognized very well.

"Oh, shut up!" — Raising your hand and resting it a little away from your mouth, you laughed a little embarrassed and looked back at the cameras; remembering that they remained there and you knew that later you would see your interaction with Tom on some social media.

Again, a thing and situation you were used to.

"Look at that camera!" — A voice mingled among others, which requested the same request, asking you to take some photos together; something that would feed news, fans and press.

At no point, minute or second, did you and Tom remain distant or apart from each other; always a few steps close, hugging each other for photos and certain looks, completely indiscreet. — Even during brief interviews, as Blyth mentioned you or your character's work, you were silently watching. — One of the interviewers even commented on how cute she thought it was.

Tom's hand was on your waist, holding and almost covering you, making a quick caress in a few seconds and one of your hands was still resting on his chest; and you continued, of course, to be the focus of the cameras.

Quickly, with the intention of changing your pose and trying something new and also to take advantage of the fact that Blyth's face was almost close to yours, you decide to place your pigmented lips on his cheeks. — Such a cute and friendly gesture, and so common. —But, automatically and hastily, Tom turned his face away at the same time, without having in mind what you were, in fact, planning. — God, it was a shock; an absurd and completely intense shock.

For the first time that night, in that place and on those cameras, your lips touched Tom's lips. — It was very quick, good and surprising; and that definitely left a cold, freezing air in your belly accompanied by a desperate feeling in your mind. — Rumor has it that smoke was coming out of his head. — It was a peck, a quick and simple kiss.

When you separated, hurriedly, your eyes met Tom's once again; who were a little wide-eyed, expressing surprise. — Looking for something to say or do, just like you. — And you watched his lips curve into an almost smile, as if he was trapping him.

Shouts of enthusiasm and some possible whistles echoed throughout the immense place, along with some looks and expressions of surprise at what had happened. — And some people were worried if they had recorded the exact moment, of course. — Your fans were probably commenting frantically about what happened.

You really didn't know what to do but at no point did you move away from your boyfriend — now, official to the public — and keep your hand on his chest; as if it were, in fact, planned.

"A nice way to reveal it, huh?" — Tom laughed, relaxed and without a feeling of discomfort or uneasiness, he still had his hand on your waist; and he still squeezed you, then leaving you with another caress. — "I think." — He didn't look at the cameras, his orbits focused only on you.

They have always focused on you, regardless of what is actually happening; and that will never change.

"A nice way to reveal." — You repeated your words, but, as an affirmation and certainty; maybe, seeing how relieved Tom was, and not showing some kind of distress, your chest calmed down and you felt safe.

And soon, you and Tom became one of the most talked about topics on social media.

[ferrariseventeen]

seventeen nsfw thoughts 18+ minors dni

a/n: omg me making random nsfw posts again? who would have ever thought! so happy to be posting on here again and there’s already so much more to come! warnings: power dynamic,mentions of weed,high sex,hybrid

ceo wonwoo! i repeat ceo wonwoo who takes his pretty secretary into his office to use as a fleshlight before every meeting! just beckoning you in with a nonchalant wave of his hand,ignoring the other employees exchanging glances as you shuffle in the door behind him! they’re not stupid,oh no! everyone in the office knows what kind of relationship you have with the big boss,it’s what they talk about as they crowd around the coffee machine during breaks,it’s what they’re whispering about under their breaths around the lunch tables,”it’s the only reason she still has a job” they snigger to each other whenever they catch you slipping out of his office with your hair a mess and your skirt still bunched up around your thighs,a goofy smile on your lips. they’d never mention to each other that they wish it was them in your position,how their sharp words conceal how badly they wish they could be called in to join or fuck it,even just watch! sometimes it’s you wishing someone would be able to catch a glimpse of you on your knees on the carpeted floor of your boss’s office,mouth wide open as he fucks your face. you’re sure they must be able to hear you gagging around his length or the dirty words dripping from his lips as he ruts into your throat. he’s an utterly shameless man,the way he grabs the back of your hair and moans out what a pretty whore you are as he’s got you spread across his desk,balls deep in your dripping pussy,taunting you with that lopsided grin of his,to answer the phone that’s been ringing non stop beside your head

i’ve talked about this so much on my other blog but holy fuckkkk getting high with your best friend vernon and fooling around! like you’re just chilling in your room,lazily passing the blunt that he rolled back and forth as you watch some shitty comedy that neither of you are really interested in but you’re having the time of your life! you’ve never really noticed how gorgeous your friend actually is,sure girls and guys alike always fawn over him and he’s always telling you about who he’s pulled on nights out but the way he’s sprawled out now,eyes hooded as he takes a swig from the water bottle you’ve been sharing,you’re kind of feeling something different for him,it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time. is it the way his basketball shorts are laying so low on his hips or how his arms are flexing as he throws them behind his head…..anyway fast forward 5 minutes after a simple “hey i wanna kiss you” blurted out after you exhaled the last of the smoke in your lungs,you’re crawling into his lap,straddling him while you bring the blunt to his lips,watching how they wrap around it as he bats his lashes up at you. he’s taking absolutely no time to slip his hands under your shirt,watching through his red eyes how you bite your bottom lip when his fingers find your hard nipples. he’s pinching them and flicking them just to coax out that throaty moan he’s been dying to get out of you since the moment he met you

mingyu with his curly hair is just so puppy coded like not to go back to my hybrid!svt roots but he would make the cutest puppy boyfriend! like imagine patting down his curls while he tries to nuzzle his face into your palm,nipping at your fingers with his canines,the corners of his mouth turning up into a cheeky smile when you jokingly scold him. he’d be the worlds whiniest,clingiest thing known to man,never leaving your side! the little attention seeker would set up camp by your at home work station,chin resting on your thigh,looking up at you with those big brown eyes while you try to concentrate on the voice on the other end of the phone line. he just can’t go 5 minutes without your hands on him,he’s dragging himself across the couch just to curl up beside you,he’s wrapping your arms around him while you’re trying to cook,he’s pressing his nose behind your ear and moaning how hard he is when it’s time for bed!! he’s just so desperate for you and that’s the way you like it,he’s always so keen to be manhandled and pinched and prodded any way you see fit,you know what’s best for him of course! that’s why he wears his little collar with your initials on it with so much pride!

[elordilover]

Hellooo ✨️ Could you write a friends to lovers walker x reader where reader plays walker's love interest ? Like everyone in the cast can see they like each other but them, and they get jealous when other people show interest in each other? Thank youu ❤️‍🩹

yess! thank you so much for the request!

“just friends”

pairing: walker scobell x fem! reader

summary: you play walker’s love interest in the pjo series, but is your romance just for the cameras?

warnings: none, not proofread, sorry if this is like my other friends to lovers with walker, it’s my fav trope i can’t help myself 💀

————————————————————————

“cmon just talk to him, everyone can tell you guys like each other!” dior told you.

“yeah i like him but he doesn’t like me i promise, we’ve had this conversation a million times already!” you told her.

“okay but the way he looks at you says otherwise”, she said, trying to prove her point. “Y/N i promise he does, i’ll ask him today”

“wait don’t”, you said quickly grabbing her phone, “don’t ask him, then he’ll know that i like him!”

“that’s the whole point Y/N! we are trying to set you up”, she protested.

—————

meanwhile:

“dude she likes you i promise”, aryan told walker.

“she could have anyone else, she would never date me”, walker said.

“i promise, just talk to her about it. you guys hang out all the time, aren’t you guys hanging out tomorow? just ask her then”, aryan said while putting this plan into action.

“no. tomorrows too early, maybe after the press tour”

“promise?” aryan said while he stuck out his pinky.

“promise.” walker said while bringing out his pinky and sealing the promise.

—————

it was the day after you and dior had the conversation. you were with walker right now, laying on his bed and talking, randomly showing each other tiktoks. he felt like home.

walker turned his head to look at you, “are you ready for all the interviews?”

“kind of. i’m excited to wear cute outfits, but not excited for dumb questions”, being this close to him game you butterflies. you could see his light freckles and the light pink flush on his cheeks. his beautiful blue eyes shined in the sun. you were sure your cheeks were bright red.

“same, im excited to be back with everyone though” he said while looking right into your eyes.

“same!!”, you said excitingly, “i can’t wait to see aryan again he’s so funny”, you said.

“yeah…. he is”, walker replied seeming more distant, you didn’t know why though. he kind of seemed jealous because you mentioned aryan.

—————

it was the first day of the press tour, it was the pjo series premier. you got dressed with leah and dior in your hotel room, there was also hairdressers and stylists with you. you were wearing a beautiful blue gown, with lace sleeves. leah was wearing a beautiful gold and blue gown.

you guys met up with the guys before walking the carpet for interviews, walker was wearing a deep navy suit. it complemented his eyes so well. he looked beautiful.

—————

“how did your relationships grow during filming?”, the interviewer asked, she had long beautiful blond hair with a gold dress.

“yeah i definitely grew closer to everyone during filming, especially walker and aryan, since i was filming with them all the time. i consider them my best friends now, they are the funniest people ive ever met. and ive met the coolest people through filming this show”, you replied reminiscing on your filming experience.

“amazing. what was your favorite scene to film?”, she asked noticing how you kept looking toward the left, where walker was being interviewed.

“ummmmm”, you said trying to find and answer. you looked over to walker to find a familiar face. you saw the lights hit his face in a way that he looked magical. you could stare at that face forever. he turned his head and looked at you, your cheeks heated up immediately as he waved to you.

“my favorite scene to film was probably a scene in the last episode. i can’t spoil anything but it was definitely my favorite to film, you’ll guys will see soon!!”

“niceeee well we will let you go! you look beautiful tonight Y/N!”

“thank you! you do too!” you replied.

you walked to the left and walked past walker.

“Y/N!” he called out to you, “come here” you walked back over to him and he stretched out his arms to hug you.

“hey Y/N” the interviewer said, “there’s one question i’ve been dying to ask you both”

“hi! what is it?” you said as walker also said “okay, ask away”

“okay, are you guys sure there’s nothing going on backstage with you guys?” he asked.

“oh um”, you said nervously, you didn’t know what to answer, so you let walker,

“no, there’s not. we are best friends tho! but yeah we keep the romance on screen” walker answers while you nodded to his answer.

even though you guys weren’t dating, that hurt for him to say. it shouldn’t, but it does. you felt betrayed. there was really no reason for feeling this way.

“but are you sure you are “just friends”’ he asked again.

“we are sure, i promise”, you answered to give walker a break.

—————

it was a couple days after the premier, you till replayed walker looking at you and hugging you in your mind. you and the younger kids of the cast were hanging out.

“oh my god”, dior said while she was scrolling through her phone.

“what”, you all said in unison.

“i’m gonna send it, y’all have to see this”, she replied.

you picked up your phone and watched the tiktok she sent all of you. it was a tiktok using the clips from the premier shipping you and walker. your cheeks immediately flushed and you looked over at walker. his cheeks grew a light pink and he gave you an upside down smile.

“stop it right now”, aryan said while slightly laughing.

“i mean it’s a good ship”, walker said quietly while shrugging his shoulders.

“i mean yeah it is”, you agreed as you liked the video and saved it.

“i see these all the time, y’all are cute”, dior said while smiling ear to ear.

“they are!!” aryan agreed.

you looked over at walker and noticed how red his cheeks were, yours were too. maybe he did like you all this time….

————————————————————————

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!

*i will most likely write a part 2 for this so send in ideas for it!!*

🎀🪩🪞🛋️💌🖇️🥿🐞🌺🌎🫧🥒🫐🍦🥄🎱🩰

[macfrog]

rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

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[avatar-anna]

Pale Green Stripes

The Professor Masterlist

this takes place during The Professor Series!

"Did you know you're the only person who never tries to interrupt me?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry and Y/n lay on the carpeted floor of her townhouse. Their shoulders touched, but that was about it. Even so, Harry could feel that tiny bit of contact throughout his entire body. The professor probably had a word for that, a scientific term to explain why just the slightest graze—not even skin against skin—sent him into a tailspin that made him have to focus extra hard on what she said.

Y/n's hands knotted together on her lap, a thing she did when she held herself back. It was as if she had to physically restrain herself some way to keep her from speaking out of turn. Harry personally never thought she did, from their first meeting at the bookstore, he'd been fascinated by her, by the things she said.

"I don't mean to...impart information on people the way that I do. It just happens sometimes," she said, her eyes gazing up at the ceiling.

Harry knew he probably should've too, but he couldn't help but look at the professor instead. Her hair fanned out around her shoulders, she wore a string of pearls around her neck and earrings made to look like Salvador Dalí's melting clocks in her ears. Her jewelry was always a mix of something professional and a little quirky, Harry came to realize, as if even at work as a professor at Cambridge University she couldn't help but have a little fun.

Her wardrobe consisted of patterned socks and cherry red Adidas shoes and fun knitted sweaters and vests. Today she merely wore a cozy navy blue sweater and a flowy white skirt, her red shoes were on a rack by the door, but she still wore her ruffled socks with embroidered roses on them.

"I don't mind it at all," he replied honestly.

Y/n blinked a couple times, then said, "I know. I was surprised at first because everyone usually cuts me off. Or walks away."

Harry frowned. He couldn't help but notice how clinically the professor spoke about the hurtful things that had been done to her. By her family, so-called colleagues, the few friends she had at work. He couldn't fathom anyone finding Y/n anything less than wonderful. She was brilliant, yes, but funny, and charismatic, and had a knack for storytelling. Harry never wanted her to stop talking. Ever.

"I like listening to you," he told her, shrugging as best he could given his current prone position.

"That's probably because you never finished school and are trying to make up for lost time."

From anyone else, that would've been a joke, a jab, but Y/n took education seriously, had mentioned it numerous times since they met.

Still, Harry chuckled. "Maybe I just like the sound of your voice. Maybe I just like hearing what you have to say. Maybe I find your lectures highly arousing."

"Edward!"

Even as he laughed with her, Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew he should tell her, he should've told her months ago. His middle name fired out of his mouth before he could think the first time Y/n asked him for his name. A desire for anonymity, that was all it was. He didn't think he'd see her again outside the one time, so he thought it would be harmless. Then they did keep meeting, and he didn't have the guts to tell her, and now he was too deep in the lie to find a way out.

"What?"

Harry had never been shy about his attraction to the professor, even if he'd only seen half of her face due to the mask she wore. There was so much to appreciate about her, so much to admire, and he let his own imagination do the rest. He could've, of course, looked her up online. Y/n had mentioned something about posting educational videos online, but he thought it was only fair that if she didn't know what his entire face looked like that he didn't either.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" she asked, and even without the mask, Harry could tell she was blushing.

"Like what?"

"About me. About—about your attraction to me and how you find me—or think I'm a—"

"Yes?" Harry encouraged. He could tell there was a word or phrase she had in mind but was too embarrassed to use.

"In the 16th Century, the word bellibone was first used. It's derived from French etymology using the words belle and bonne to describe a woman who excels in both beauty and goodness. There's really only one known use in the late 1500s. A poet named Edmund Spenser, though he was from Ireland. It's fascinating how a word can be used once then ceases to exist, don't you think?"

Harry blinked, not totally prepared for the tangent, though perhaps he should've been. Grinning beneath his mask, he said, "I think it describes you perfectly."

"Edward," Y/n said, now her neck was flushed too.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked. "The compliments? The—" He might as well call it what it was—"flirting?"

"N—No."

"Because I'll stop if it does," he promised. "I just think you should know how devastating you are."

One of the professor's eyebrows quirked up in confusion. "That was an interesting choice in adjective."

But it was the perfect one. Harry knew he couldn't be with Y/n the way he wanted when she didn't know the truth about who he was, and he couldn't risk losing her if he finally told her. Perhaps it was unfair to play at something he knew he couldn't have, but part of him wanted Y/n to know that she was desirable, that she was more than what her intellect offered. Sure, Harry found her intelligence sexy as all get out, but she was also beautiful, and funny, and kind, and he didn't think anyone had ever complimented more than just her brain.

He would spend an entire day complimenting her if he had the time, or if she let him.

But while Y/n was confident in many things, romantic feelings weren't one of them. Despite the obstacles he put in his own way, Harry didn't think the professor was quite ready to hear how much he really liked her.

"Tell me something."

"Like what?" Y/n asked.

"Anything," Harry said, facing her and propping his head in his hand. "A book you read, something that fascinates you, your least favorite student, anything."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she positioned her body to face his. "I don't have a least favorite student."

"I don't believe you," he replied, narrowing his eyes back playfully.

Y/n scanned his face, then up and down his body. It was casual, though Harry noticed that her gaze lingered in places—his arms, his shoulders, his face. He wore a mask, but he tried to suppress his grin anyway. Then, before he could tease her more, her eyes lit up.

"Did you know the stripe pattern originated in the Middle Ages?"

He never knew, but she always prefaced her information the same way. "Did it?"

Nodding to the green striped shirt Harry wore, she said, "Stripes were used to identify social outcasts. Prostitutes, criminals, hangmen, clowns and jugglers; they all had to wear stripes so they were easily recognizable in regular society."

"Clowns?"

"Outcasts and people who were...not society's favorites, like court jesters and such. European governments even legalized the requirement of certain citizens to wear stripes. Though now, of course, stripes are popular due to Coco Chanel wearing a striped shirt similar to French sailor uniforms, which, you know, sailors were also usually the lowest rank of the French navy. Then stripes began appearing in women's activewear in the 1920s, Al Capone began wearing pinstriped suits, and the rest is history. A long, brutal history, obviously, seeing as prisoners were later forced to wear striped uniforms, and prisoners in concentration camps during World War Two, but—there you have it. A brief, slightly detailed history of the stripe."

Harry looked down at his long sleeved shirt, the thin pale green and white striped that lined his arms and torso. "Not sure if I'll be able to wear stripes again, but... that's really fascinating."

"Thought you might like that," Y/n said with a shrug.

Harry tilted his head questioningly. "Why do you say that?"

"You like clothes."

He didn't question how she knew that. With her background, Y/n seemed to know things about him that she just happened to observe. It was a little disconcerting at first, but he came to appreciate that he didn't have to pretend around her. No airs, no personas, none of the things he'd become so accustomed to in recent years. The professor might not have known about Harry's career, but she knew him in ways no one else did.

"Well," he said, playfully sighing at his shirt. "Guess I'm never wearing stripes again."

Y/n's eyes squinted and her mask scrunched a little, the way they always did when she smiled. With an unmistakable glint in her eye, the adorable one she always got when Harry indulged in her. "Wait until you hear about polka dots!"

Harry sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement making him chuckle a little. "Tell me more, love."

[notafunkiller]

false god

Summary: On the night of your movie premiere, you and director Bucky finally get closer.

Pairing: director!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 24, Bucky is 35), teasing, dirty talk, pet names, fingering, nipples play, oral sex (the reader receiving), clit play, come eating, metal arm kink, no condom (but they are both clean and the reader is on birth control), alcohol (but neither is even tipsy), aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 8.7K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: Bucky's look is obviously inspired by Sebastian's appearance at the Sharper premiere in London. The dark prince vibes and that hair... ahhh!

An extra thank you to @marvelouslizzie and @lavenderhaze967​ for being my beta readers and for the endless support.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

It wasn’t your intention to interrupt him at first, but he was going to notice you anyway and you didn’t want him to think you are actively ignoring him. Because you obviously aren’t. How could you?

“Hi.”

Your voice is really low, but he hears you nonetheless, stopping mid-sentence when he turns his head and sees you so close. “Hey.”

Not only do his eyes get bigger, but there’s also a huge smile that spreads all over his face as he leans in to give you a quick hug. And you clearly aren’t prepared for physical contact at all, especially for the cheek kiss that follows the embrace.

“It’s so nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you, too!” His strong perfume hits you, and you hope the camera doesn’t catch your red face as you both pull back.

“You look amazing!” He’s not even attempting to hide the fact he checks you out. His eyes try not to linger too much on your chest, hips, or legs since the slit of the dress exposes a little bit of skin. The last thing he wants is for you to feel uncomfortable and think he’s a creep. 

But you are too busy staring at him to notice. He doesn’t wear a simple suit. No, he went for a freaking villain...ish look that drives you crazy. It’s an all-black outfit: from the Prada blouse he wears under his suit, to his gloves, elegant coat, and Chelsea boots. And that hair? That hairstyle looks absolutely fantastic on him.

“I love this so much!” You say with a grin while gesturing to his body.

He bites his lip shily. “Oh my god… Thank you.”

You turn your head to the woman who is supposed to interview him and whisper a “Sorry”, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. She watches your interaction with a genuinely warm smile on her face.

Bucky, though? He unexpectedly takes two steps toward you, and you see the camera move to catch you both. “Look, guys,” he points out his index finger in your direction. “She’s the one that gave life to this project, the one you should watch it for. Her performance is unbelievable! No one could have done it better.”

If you think you were blushing visibly until now, you’re wrong. Your cheeks get so hot that you have to refrain with all you have from touching them.

“This means so much.” You give him a quick, thankful look before shifting to the camera. “This man,” It’s your turn to point out to him. “...is incredible. His past projects and now False God… Everything he makes is golden. I am very thankful he believed in me and gave me a shot. He’s the best director I have ever worked with, and I really hope you’ll enjoy this movie.”

He thanks you with a tilt of his head and his folded hands, very grateful for your words, and you have to wave goodbye when your first interviewer calls your name.

Bucky shakes his head. “So where were we?”

*

The rest of the red-carpet interviews go well, with Bucky keeping an eye on you from distance, fully aware of how nervous you must feel since it’s your first premiere as the lead actress. But you mask it perfectly, making jokes and complimenting people now and then. And everyone loves you.

But the introduction in the theater makes you sweaty as Bucky presents you with an encouraging smile. You are the last one and the journalists are already recording. You pray you’ll not make a fool of yourself in front of everyone and fall while climbing the stairs. Thankfully, you don’t, and Bucky tries not to laugh when he sees you breathing out in relief. You watch him place the card he was holding in the pocket of his coat before raising his microphone to speak for a bit about the experience of directing and co-writing, about the cast, the messages, and how thankful he is to his loyal audience, but also the one that will form after this film. You can’t lie and say you’re listening to his speech entirely since you’re often distracted by some hair strands or his beard… His smile is a killer, too. You try to focus as much as you can, though, and when it’s your castmates’ turn, you actively nod and smile. When they pass the mic to you, you try to be as honest and professional as you can, thanking everyone for being there, supporting you, and believing in you. Of course, you praise Bucky extra much. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be standing here, and you’ve learned so many things from him. He’s such a wonderful and understanding director, always informed and always looking to improve himself and adapt.

But sometimes you wish you didn’t work with him… simply because in your delusional mind, maybe you’d stand a chance.

*

You don’t know why you chose to stay at the after-party. It’s not like you have your friends or family with you since you’re out of the country, and you haven’t had much contact with even half of these people. But maybe it’s an opportunity to get out of your comfort zone and make some new connections. Plus, you can freely observe Bucky outside the workplace.

Some journalists and photographers are still here, but he seems more relaxed. He enjoys having a chat and taking pics with a few actors he worked with in the past, and after he’s done, he invites you and the rest of the cast to join him.

The photographer is very friendly as she tries to arrange you, and you end up in the middle, right next to him.

You gasp when you feel his arm wrapping around your waist so that he doesn’t cover your dress with his coat.

Fuck… He makes focusing so hard.

You don’t know when you developed this crush, to be honest. You worked with him for more than five months, almost every day and everything was professional, sometimes friendly. But nothing more. He’s never even jokingly flirted with you or anyone else on set. He’s not a creep. He’s a really cool —single— guy and it’s so easy to forget how who he is.

You don’t even realize that you’re frowning until you feel Bucky’s fingers tickling you over the dress, making you burst into giggles.

Without thinking twice, you sneak your arm under his coat and return the gesture. He doesn’t chuckle as you did, but he smirks. And that smirk is so charming and sensual you feel like you won a prestigious award.

The photographer approves immediately, giving you a thumbs up, and after a few minutes, you finish. But Bucky makes you all stay in the same position as he takes his phone out of his pocket. He gives it to Steve after he opens the camera and returns next to you.

Unexpectedly, you feel him leaning in as he lets his hand rest on your back. “Should I tickle you again to get that gorgeous smile on camera, doll?”

And just like that, you’re left red and speechless by James Bucky Barnes.

*

Your sister’s reaction to the selfie makes you smile. She didn’t waste any time and commented on how you got lucky enough to take a photo with the dark prince of the film industry. Such a perfect nickname based on how he looks tonight.

“You’ve changed.” You jump when you hear the dark prince himself right in your ear all of a sudden. You lock your screen and turn to look at him.

“W-what?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. I meant your dress.” You nod in response and immediately remark he’s no longer wearing his coat. That suit looks so, so good up close. But he still has his gloves on, which makes you sad.

You read a little about his metal arm before your audition and you’ve noticed he always had his hands covered on set, so you assume he’s not quite comfortable showing it in public. You only saw it in a few pictures taken by paps in New York, at a restaurant, around two years ago. “May I sit down?”

“Of course.” You clear your throat and look at the table in front of you. He brought two glasses of wine with him. “Is that for me?”

He gives you a teasing smirk before taking a sip. “There’s no one else sitting here, is there?”

“I didn’t want to assume. Thank you.” You smile shily, ignoring his playful rhetorical question, and follow his example, raising the glass to your lips. Surprisingly, it tastes better than you expected, but you don’t drink more. You didn’t eat almost anything tonight and the last thing you want is to feel sick. 

“You’re welcome, I thought you’d like this.”

“I do.” You look him in the eyes as you speak. “Very thoughtful of you.”

If Bucky senses your nervousness, which is probably very obvious, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he keeps glancing at you in a way that makes you think he wants you to keep talking. But you don’t. He caught you off guard coming here and offering you wine. It’s a nice gesture: him wanting to check on you and chit-chat a bit, but you don’t know how you’re supposed to act. Especially when you have this consuming urge to touch the strands of his hair that keep returning to his face despite Bucky’s many attempts to keep them still, tucked behind his ears.

“It’s not as good as Natasha’s, but that’s all they have here.” You smile, remembering the day on set when you finished filming a super draining emotional scene after a couple of hours, and Natasha came to take you home. It was the second time she met Bucky, and she offered to take you, him, and the very few members that could come to a small pub, after seeing your exhausted faces. You had dinner and the best wine you have ever tasted. And it was so cheap!

“I didn’t expect it to be.” You straighten your back.

“How comes she left you alone?”

“Well, she has a full week at the agency, she wasn’t even supposed to be here.” But she came anyway because you’re more than her client. She became one of your closest friends shortly after she discovered you at the acting camp. And she’s been with you through every rejection, every small part you got, and now this.

“What about your family? I expected to see them here, I know they were excited. Is everyone okay?”

You smile, raising and shaking your phone a little before putting it in your pocket. “I was actually talking to my sister when you came. They’re all good, thank you for asking.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting.” His wrinkles make him look extra attractive when he raises his eyebrows, frowns, or smiles. You noticed that on set… But in this context? So close? It’s even more challenging for you to keep a neutral face.

“No, no. I am actually glad you came to me, I was planning to leave in a few minutes since it’s late, but I really wanted to thank you for your words today and overall, for the opportunity.” Your voice is shaking, full of emotion, and he immediately leans in, invading your personal space, and reaches for your hands.

Fuck... He’s touching you! He’s actually touching you.

“Don’t ever thank people for something you’ve earned and deserve.” His voice is so gentle and low, making the words hit you even harder. “Alright, doll?”

You nod, breathless, but he doesn’t accept it, squeezing your hand to get your attention. He wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Alright.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

With a playful smirk on his face, he lets go of your hands slowly and pulls back. “Good girl.”

And right at that moment, you want to screw everything and go for it… You are so worked up and tired of refraining from even thinking about it, that you don’t care how scandalous it would be if you jumped to kiss him right there. At least, you’d satisfy this need. For once…

You sigh, mortified. Even if you had the courage to do it, you don’t even know if he likes you like this. He’s been friendly and trying to make you comfortable tonight, and your mind went in another direction.

He probably had so many people in the industry hitting on him, but he was never photographed with them. You don’t know if it’s his personal ‘policy’ or if he is just discreet, and you shouldn’t think about it. But you do, it’s impossible not to.

You need to leave before you’ll start actually indulging yourself in this… fantasy.

You smile, raising from the couch. “Thank you for the wine. It was a wonderful night, but it’s getting way too late.”

And as soon as you finish the phrase, he’s up too, arranging his suit jacket. “You’re right. It’s really late.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you in New York.”

“Me too. At least we’ll be home.” His expression shows how fond he is of the city, and it warms you up. “I already miss it and I’ve been gone for one day.”

You gasp. “You arrived yesterday?”

“Nope, I wish. I landed last night because I had to take care of some additional stuff.”

You’ve been here for two days and you could barely sleep. You can’t imagine how tired he is and you really admire him for not turning down any interview today, but you guess he’s experienced this before.

“Wow, what are you doing still standing here?” You ask jokingly and he looks you straight in the eyes.

“Maybe I was just waiting for you to decide to head out so we can leave together.”

And, of course, you’re taken aback for a few seconds, trying to decide how to answer him. Since he’s in a good mood, you place your hand right over your heart and playfully say:

“Aww, you’re offering to take me to my hotel, Mr. Barnes? You’re so thoughtful.”

“I do actually.” He replies and takes a few steps until he’s by your side. “Sharon is driving, and since we’re all staying at the same place, I wanted to see if you want to come.”

You mentally slap yourself. He’s just being a nice person while you fantasize about kissing him in front of everyone. And as much as you want to find an excuse, you know it would make no sense. It’d be a short ride, plus you really like Sharon. She’s not only a great writer but also a great, fun person. Bucky wanted her on set all the time in case she came up with new lines or scenes as she watched you.

You smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Perfect, let’s get your coat.”

*

He insists on carrying your bag all the way to your door after you say your goodbyes to Sharon. Bucky’s room is just one level higher, so there isn’t much of a bother. You can’t help yourself but steal a few glances at him as you walk together. You even catch him looking back at you a couple of times, which makes you childishly happy. You realize your crush is getting even bigger tonight and you don’t know how you’ll put an end to it.

You’re right about to open your door when your stomach starts to ramble, and Bucky almost drops your bag out of laughter.

“Hungry?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You bite your lip not to groan, then give him an embarrassed smile. “A little.”

“So the fancy appetizers weren’t enough?” You know he’s teasing you by his tone and the playful grin he displays, so you let out a short laugh.

“Nope. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

You didn’t have time, truth be told, but you’ll eat a great breakfast tomorrow. Now you’re just gonna take a bath and update Nat that you’re going to bed.

Bucky shakes his head disapprovingly. “This is not good for you at all. Your poor stomach should sue you.”

You snort. “I need to find a good lawyer then.”

“Well, if you could eat anything right now, what would it be?”

“Why are you doing this?” You fake complain, trying to match his dramatic vibe. It’s a fun way to end your night.

“Just curious.”

“Burgers and fries. But chicken, not beef.” You say without hesitation and extend your hands so you can take your bag. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome.” He gives you one of his sweetest smiles ever and you almost melt on the spot. You’re definitely crushing on him even harder now.

You look at him one more time before finally going inside. “Good night, Bucky. See you in New York.”

“Good night, doll.”

But you don’t have to wait two days to see him again. Because a few minutes after you get in bed, just watching random Tik Tok videos, he’s back, whispering your name while knocking on your door.

You literally jump, letting your phone on the nightstand, and arrange your clothes as you move.

You wonder if you forgot anything or maybe something dropped from your bag, but when you checked, everything seemed right in place.

Then why would he be here? Is he okay?

You’re even more surprised to see him leaning against the side of the wall when you open the door. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” You wave toward the bag he’s holding with a curious look. “What’s this?”

“Burgers.”

“What?”

“I got us burgers and fries. And soda, of course. May I come in?” He asks so casually as if you’ve done this one thousand times before.

“I…” You’re so overwhelmed by this simple gesture, especially since it’s coming from him, that you don’t know how to react.

“Hey, it’s totally okay if you don’t feel like eating with me, alright? I can just give you your food and-”

You haven’t even realized you are frowning until you saw his worried expression, so you immediately cut him off. You don’t want him to get the wrong idea. “No, no. This is so sweet and unexpected. You… You really didn’t have to, thank you so much.”

“So I can come in?” His grin is so playful and confident again that you find yourself smiling back like a fool.

“Of course.” You step back so he can follow you inside, then you close the door. “Bucky, you have the flight tomorrow, too, right?”

“Yes.” He answers as he lets the bag down on the bed and starts taking his shoes and coat off. You watch him carefully, trying to keep your thoughts as innocent as possible, but it’s very challenging. He’s so hot and cute, and he brought you food despite being tired as fuck.

“Jesus, Bucky.”

“What, doll?”

Not doll again… You’re clearly gonna die tonight. A heart attack caused by this dark prince.

You clear your throat. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Nope, but I wanted to. Plus, you’re not the only one who’s hungry.” He unbuttons his jacket quickly, then rolls up his sleeves a little as you take the food out, placing it on the empty bag you use now as a tablecloth. “You weren’t sleeping, right?”

“No, I was chilling.” You assure him with a smile, waiting for him to join you on the bed. And he does, crossing his legs as he leans in to unwrap his burger.

“Fuck, I’m starving.” His cute, desperate tone makes you chuckle as you watch him smell the food.

He seems so comfortable around you like this, and you don’t think you’ll ever erase this image from your mind. Fuck this man!

“What?”

You giggle again. “You’re about to eat a huge burger all dressed up in Prada.” Sitting on my bed, you want to add, but you keep it to yourself. You don’t want to weird him out in any way. 

“At two in the morning, with a gorgeous woman. What can I say? I love my life.”

You don’t know how to answer for a few seconds, but you’re too tempted to match his energy to pass on this opportunity. What can go bad? It’s not like a little flirting will make him think low of you since he started this... And he called you doll. You have every right to play along.

“Maybe I’m the lucky one.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows as soon as you finish your sentence, and you try to hide your smile with a napkin, pretending to clean your mouth.

“W-what?”

Oh my god, his cheeks are getting flushed! You want to congratulate yourself on this. You didn’t expect him to get flattered by a simple phrase, he’s so adorable.

“I said that maybe I’m the lucky one.” You repeat shily while staring at his hands. You notice he took off the glove he was wearing on his right hand. “I mean, I’m eating burgers with this handsome, super amazing guy, who didn’t let me starve.”

When you move your eyes to his face and see that his cheeks are even redder now, you giggle. Until he leans in and steals a few fries from you.

“Hey!” You pretend to be offended. “Give them back.” But before you can take them back, he’s shoving them in his mouth, and you both start laughing.

You spend the next twenty minutes in the same good mood: finishing eating while laughing at some set memories and making a chewing gum balloons contest like two kids before talking a little about your plans.

“You’re sure you can tell me?”

“Unless you’re planning to tell anyone,” You say jokingly. He’s in this industry, it’s not like he’s gonna release the info to the press. And he’s not in any competition with other directors. If there’s something you learned about Bucky super fast is that he’s a really healthy person. His mindset is not to be better than others and this is why he is so good at what he does.

In response, Bucky brings his thumb and forefinger together and moves them in a closing zipper gesture across his mouth.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know if I’m even gonna make it to the shortlist.” You shrug your shoulders. You know how tough it is. “Nat heard some big names are auditioning, too.”

“Like?”

“Wanda Maximoff, Jennifer Walters… Yelena Belova.”

“Well,” He gives you an encouraging smile. “You had tough competition for False God, too, but you got it, didn’t you?”

You nod, remembering how exciting and scary it was. “But I have to keep my hopes low, you know? Not all directors have your patience or your willingness to take risks.”

It’s the truth. You have no connections and your past projects —if you don’t count this one— are not good enough. But you’re gonna try anyway.

“What character?”

“I'll read for both sisters, actually. What about you?”

“I have some meetings next week, but I still don’t know if I’ll accept it. The script is kinda weak.” Bucky sighs. “Can I take off my jacket? It’s really hot.”

“Of course.” It’s really hot indeed even though you have the AC on, which is surprising. It’s raining outside and it’s February…

You shamelessly watch him undress and almost groan at the sight of him in that semi-transparent black blouse. Jesus, he looks so freaking good, it’s just unreal.

“So yeah, I’m trying to be careful about what films I’m choosing. I’ve got an offer for a show, too, but I don’t know much yet. I’d love to collaborate with Sam Wilson.”

You heard about Sam a couple of times from Nat. He’s a great producer.

“Okay, random. What’s your dream vacation right now?”

“Dream vacation?” He frowns as if he’s never heard those words before in his life.

“Yes, where would you like to go and chill at this moment?”

He thinks about it for a few seconds, biting his bottom lip all thoughtfully, probably recalling all those places he’s visited and wants to visit as well.

“Italy or Greece. Somewhere warmer at least.” He giggles, leaning in unconsciously, and he’s suddenly so, so close to you. You can’t help but stare at him as that slight movement makes his hair strands fall on his face again, and you think dramatically that you’d die if you didn’t touch him right now. Right fucking now!

And you do, but you’re so gentle he doesn’t even realize you’re touching him until you bring your other hand to his face, letting go of his hair to you stroke his cheeks.

You swear he stops breathing for a few seconds as his lips half-open, and that’s when all your second thoughts and fears go out of the window. It’s your chance to be brave and go for it. He’s not a creep, nor the type of person who would take advantage of you. And you’ve flirted a few times tonight… Plus, he can reject you anytime.

So you look at his mouth, then up, into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, maybe a no, because there’s no way he doesn’t realize what’s your intention. But instead, he moves his left hand to the back of your head, holding you tightly as he presses his lips against yours.

You close your eyes instinctively, opening your mouth as your fingers go straight into his hair. It’s the perfect length and so soft… you can pull it without any effort. The feel of his tongue and his hands on your hips make you let out a soft moan right in his mouth as he pulls you onto his lap.

Your legs part even more, and you don’t even realize you’re rubbing on one of his thighs until he groans. Your lips are crushing, and crushing, and crushing. It’s hot and magnetic… out of a dream. And he’s so good at it! You’re literally sad when you have to pull apart to breathe a little more.

“Jesus, doll.” His eyes are glowing. You can’t help yourself but touch his face again, stroking his beard, surprised that it didn’t tickle you while kissing.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to sound creepy or anything, but I wanted to do this for some time.” He outlines your lips with his thumb, and you try very hard not to open your mouth. You’re talking now, this can wait for a bit more.

“I wanted to do this for a long time, Bucky. You don’t sound like a creep.” You pause, changing your expression completely, catching him off guard. “Unless you gave me the role because you wanted to get into my pants.”

The way his lips part in shock and horror, his eyes widening, full of panic immediately makes you feel bad for faking this indignation. “No, no. I’m sorry if this is what-”

He tries to move, nervously, thinking you want space, but you interrupt him.

“Bucky, I know you.” You caress his face over and over again. His reaction itself shows what type of person he is, so your gut is not wrong. “It was a bad joke, I know you wouldn’t do this.”

He lets out a deep breath as he realizes you mean it, and his hands return to your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. “You scared me, doll. I would never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. Especially since we worked together and I’m…” He pauses, but you still realize what he wants to say.

Older. And yes, you were in the same project, but he has no power over your career. Never had, and never will. And no actress or actor that worked with him has ever said publicly or privately anything bad about him. You know he’s not a prick.

“I leaned in first.” You whisper.

“But I flirted with you first… and I am the one who kissed you.”

You snort, dropping your hands just to give him a big smooch. “You’re adorable.”

“Adorable?”

“Yes. Very adorable.”

Bucky’s hands lower from your hips to your ass without warning, making you rub on his thigh again. And it feels so good. You wonder how long it would take you to come if you started to dry hump for real.

“You’re very adorable, too. And beautiful.” His lips are touching your neck now. Barely. But the sensation of his warm breath and beard on your skin drives you absolutely crazy. You need to fuck him.

You’ve been craving this for so long… you didn’t even realize how much until now. So you can be as excited and impatient as you want.

“Bucky.” You moan his name. “I want you.”

“Hmm?”

You raise your head, desperate for more. “I want you. Now.”

“Wait, are you sure?” He tries to read any sign of discomfort or doubt in your eyes, but he finds none. You really want to do this.

“Positive.”

“Okay, but let me get this out before we do something more. Anytime you have second thoughts or you don’t feel good, please, tell me and I’ll stop. If you don’t want to go all the way in-”

You interrupt him. “You mean sex? Because I’ve just told you how much I want you.”

“I know, but things can change and I’m just making sure you know this.”

He’s serious and thoughtful, reminding you of how he was on set. He always asked if you and the rest of the cast feel okay and tried to adjust based on your level of comfort.

“The director in you jumped.” You giggle, then caress his face again. “I know you, Mr. Barnes, and I trust you. But I really need you to do something because I’m getting impatient.”

He nods, biting his lip, and you can’t refrain from leaning in and biting that lip yourself. Just a little. He moans, relaxing under you, as he realizes you’re honest, so he stops thinking and buries his head in the crook of your neck. Your hands find their way to his shoulders when you feel him starting to leave a trail of little kisses on your skin. 

“I need you naked,” he whispers before pulling away so he can already start taking off your T-shirt. You raise your arms to help him and in no time, the air hits your breasts.

Bucky’s eyes immediately go right to your nipples, followed by his hands.

“Fuck.”

“We will, don’t worry.” He laughs, squeezing your left breast enough to make you whimper, but in the next second, he frowns, groaning.

“What’s wrong?” You try not to panic. Is he hurt? Did he change his mind? What’s happening?

“I-I don’t think we can do this tonight, doll.” He sounds frustrated, but you don’t understand. He seems to enjoy this very much. And he’s so hard… 

You’re trying to keep your voice under control as you speak. “Did I do anything wrong?”

“No, no.” He pecks you immediately, his gloved hand stroking your hair. “Nothing like that. I just don’t have a condom on me. I didn’t expect…”

You bite your bottom lip, trying not to giggle. Good to know he’s careful, keeping it safe. “I’m clean and on the pill.” It’s worth a try to see if he’d be willing to do it with you.

A big smile spreads over his face. “I’m clean, too, promise.” 

“I said I trust you, Mr. Barnes, didn’t I?” Your glance falls on his bulge without realizing it. “So let’s see you in action.”

Of course he snorts at your set semi-joke. And of course you laugh. “Funny.”

“Thanks, now let’s see you naked.” You toy with the edge of his blouse, excited to finally be able to touch his skin. You’ve wanted this for so long… But he’s so tense all of a sudden. And he’s trembling. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to see me completely naked?”

“What?” You ask surprised. What kind of question is that? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This.” He waves his left hand as if it’s supposed to mean something bad. His metal arm could never scare you. It’s a part of him, and he should not be ashamed he’s a survivor. Then he slowly takes the glove off, waiting for your reaction. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I can put it back on and I take off only my pants.”

You’ve never wanted to slap anyone more than those people who made him feel like he has to hide and feel ashamed of his arm. It’s absolutely mind-blowing how protective you feel over this man, but you don’t care if it’s crazy.

“Bucky, what the fuck? I want to see all of you. I don’t… I don’t get how this would make me uncomfortable at all,” you say softly, covering his metal hand with yours. It’s colder obviously, but it actually feels really nice.

“It’s my entire arm, doll…” He smiles unsure as he stares at your hands. “You probably know about the accident.”

“A little.” You look him in the eyes, wanting him to see you’re one hundred percent honest about what you’re gonna say. “But unless you feel uncomfortable, don’t worry about me. Or anyone else in general.”

He nods, a little unsure, but he still takes off his blouse, letting it fall on the floor. Your eyes go slowly from his abdomen all the way up to his chest, shoulders, then arm.

“Can I touch it?”

“What?” His voice is low and soft, full of surprise as he’s fidgeting. His metal fingers move exactly like his flesh ones, which makes you wonder how they’ll feel on your skin.

“Can I touch it?” You blurt out. You’re running out of patience… this is how much you want to feel him. And you really hope you’ll manage to make him more comfortable by the end of the night.

“You want to? Of course you can, but you don’t-”

“You’re joking?” You immediately brought your hand to his metal forearm and start stroking, curious. “Oh my god, the gold feels different.” He almost laughs seeing you so giggly. You’re not disgusted or bothered, you’re like a happy kid, and Bucky’s never seen anything more lovely than that expression you have. And he made that happen! “Why are you hiding this beauty, Bucky?”

He shrugs. “I don’t want to make people feel weird.”

“Screw them! What about how you feel?” You don’t even care how loud you are. You’re really upset about this. Why should he hide? Why should he be sorry and care about what strangers feel when they obviously have no decency? You know it’s rich coming from you, a person who’s been worrying about others your whole life, but he deserves more. “Think about what you want! If they are dumb enough not to like it, then they can look away.”

“It’s not just that, many pity me.” He sighs, and you quickly realize that this probably hurts him even more. It would if you were him.

“Well, they should envy you,” you say, making sure you keep eye contact. “Fuck, this is so cool, what else can it do?”

“You want to find out?” Bucky winks at you, moving his metal arm to your hip. The coldness feels so good on your skin that you can’t help yourself but moan.

“Dirty mind!”

“So you don’t?”

You giggle, aware of what he means, but you need something else right now. “Later.”

“Ihm.” He smiles mischievously, bringing his flesh arm to your pants so fast you basically fall with your back on the bed. “You have a point. Now it’s time for something else.” And just like that, you’re sitting naked and wet in your hotel room with Bucky Barnes, waiting for him to finally fuck you.

“Aren’t you gonna take these off?” You whimper, wanting to touch him through his pants, but before your fingers can make contact, you see him getting off the bed. “What?”

And then he kneels. He fucking kneels in front of you as he drags you quickly toward the edge of the bed.

“I’m gonna eat you, is that okay?” He looks feral somehow as he asks, his eyes glowing. “Please.”

You raise a little, shifting your weight on your elbows so you can see him better. He really wants this… you.

“Y-yeah. You can.” Of course, he can.

You moan as soon as you feel his lips on your calf, his beard rubbing on your skin as he leaves kisses all the way up to your thigh.

You close your eyes when his hand finds its way to your entrance.

“May I?”

You nod immediately and shiver when you feel his perfectly curled-up index flesh finger starting to move inside you. He’s trying to explore what you like while continuing to kiss and lick your inner thigh, but it’s torturously slow. And you can’t take it.

“Bucky.” It’s all you say, basically asking him to move a little faster or add another finger.

“You’re so wet.”

“Yes, and I need more. Add another finger.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but he still hears you. Yet, he doesn’t give you what you ask for.

“I like how you smell.” He mumbles as if he’s talking to himself. And maybe he is, you don’t know and you don’t have the time to ask since he takes his finger out, grabs your thighs, spreading your legs so he can fit his shoulders between them, and then puts his mouth directly on your pussy.

Just like that.

“Fuck.” Your hands basically fly to his hair as your hips lift to meet his tongue just as quickly. Not even your body anticipated the change, but it feels so good. His hands go to your ass, trying to stop you from moving, but it’s so hard. He licks so fast that you can’t control your reactions.

“You taste so fucking good.” He lets out a moan against your skin, and you’re not okay. His tongue is absolutely perfect. Especially when he moves it all the way up to your clit. You can’t believe how more comfortable your body actually gets every second he spends touching it. You really want this man.

“Bucky…” You flinch, shocked when you feel his flesh finger back inside you while he starts licking your clit faster. You grab his hair even harder, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Can I die here?” You can barely understand what he says because he speaks without taking his mouth off your clit.

“Faster.”

He moans and starts flickering his tongue in circles quicker than before while adding a second finger inside you. Then a third. And you feel so good you don’t even realize you’re basically suffocating him with your thighs.

“S-sorry.” You manage to say between whimpers, but he is too absorbed in what he’s doing to even hear you. When his fingers hit a new angle, you pull his hair so hard he gasps, yet he doesn’t stop. “Just like that. Just like that.” You repeat frenetically until you finally come with a loud moan. But Bucky doesn’t stop his movements at all, thrusting his fingers even faster as he sucks on your clit until you finish coming.

You open your eyes slowly to watch him kiss his way up to your neck, spending extra time licking your nipples, one by one. His wet beard feels actually good on your sweaty skin.

“I wanna mark you up, pretty girl. I want to… Fuck.” His lips are right below your ear as he speaks, sucking on a small spot. He doesn’t do it hard enough nor does he use his teeth to leave a hickey, but it’s still hot. Very teenager…ish from him.

“I want to fuck, too.” You laugh and you feel his smile.

“You need to sit on my face the next time.”

The next time?

“I’d suffocate you.” You choose to ignore the hole in your stomach when he moves his head back so he can look into your eyes. So blue... “Maybe hover,” you offer, but you’re not sure that’d be safe for him. He needs to breathe. And would there even be a next time?

“I feel offended. You think I can’t handle you?” He sounds offended, too, and honest. “If I can’t, then let me die happily, woman. We don’t do hover, okay?”

You snort at his words, but he seems so serious, you can’t make fun of him now. Especially after he gave you one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“Okay.”

“Good, now taste yourself.” He grins before leaning in to kiss you. You open your mouth as soon as you feel his tongue licking your bottom lip, then you drop your hands to his ass and squeeze. “Fuck,” he breaks the kiss, all breathless.

“Take them off, Bucky. I need you to fuck me.” You’ve never said these words before, but you don’t feel ashamed at all. It’s hot to be able to voice out your needs and wishes like this.

He nods twice as he gets off you to do what you told him. And in less than a minute, he’s standing naked and very hard, staring at you.

“You can tell me to stop anytime,” he reminds you as he gets back in bed.

“You look so hot. Especially with your hair all messed up.”

“Thank you.” He grabs a pillow that he places under your head before positioning himself between your already spread legs. “You’re ready for me, doll?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’m gonna make sure you’ll use that mouth for other things than mocking.”

You feel him at your entrance and fight the need to close your eyes just so you can stare at him. “For example?”

“Moaning, begging… crying out my name.” He doesn’t give you the chance to answer with a challenging remark because he’s sliding inside you. And he’s so… thick.

“Easy,” you whisper, shocked by how full you started to feel and he’s barely even halfway through. But he doesn’t seem to hear you as he thrusts even more way too quickly. “James, I said easy.”

He groans when he feels your arms wrapping around his neck and kisses your nose. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t realize.”

Baby? Fuck me… Don’t freak out!

“It’s okay.”

“I’m gonna be gentle.” He promises you, lowering his lips to yours.

“I’m not made of glass, you know? And you can start moving.” You raise your head to look at him, but he lowers his at the same time, and you end up hitting your foreheads so hard, you see stars.

“Ah.” He groans in pain.

“Is your head made of metal too?”

Bucky’s laugh is so cute and contagious that you also start laughing. But then you lift your hips, trying to create some friction and he freezes.

“You feel so fucking good.”

“Then move!” You complain and before you can do something about it again, his grip on your hips stops you.

“How do you want it?” A normal question since you’ve never done this together before, but it frustrates you.

“Just fucking move, James.” You’re close to crying at this point. This man is finally inside you and he’s holding back. “Fucking move!”

“Fuck, say that again.” He tilts his head back as he asks.

“Make me.” And then he finally gives you what you want and starts moving back and forth, trying to see what makes you moan the most. Long strokes. Deep short strokes. Fast. Slow. And you love them all in different ways because he’s really good at it. Like really good.

“James, please…” You grab him by the chin with one hand so you can kiss him properly, but also to try keeping your voice a little down for a bit. You didn’t know you can be this loud, and you’re a little embarrassed. But he seems to enjoy that way too much.

“Come on, doll, talk to me. Please... go on.” You feel his teeth on the skin of your neck while he keeps moving his hips faster and faster every time.

“Bucky.”

He sucks on the same spot, and this time, there’s no way he’s not gonna leave a hickey. But you don’t care. Not even a little.

“Yes?”

“James, please.” You close your eyes, your moans louder than before, and Bucky realizes you’re so close again.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me and it's yours.”

Holy fuck, that mouth will be the death of you.

But can you tell him? You don’t want to push him too far. “I d-don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Try me.”

“P-please, just... let's just focus on this.” You trace his back with your right hand, trying to distract him.

“Only if you tell me.”

You sigh, knowing he won’t let it go, so your fingers slide down between your bodies. You can touch your clit yourself, no need to ask him to do it. But before you can reach it, he stops your hand with his.

“Hands in my hair, doll. I can do this for you.” His voice is so hoarse and gentle, opposite to his thrusts.

“Use your other hand, Bucky,” you manage to breathe out, shocking him.

“What?”

“Please. I want- fuck, please, James, I want to come… Metal fingers, please.” 

He doesn’t ask twice, thanks God, giving you exactly what you crave. And you welcome his cold touch by arching your back in pleasure and kissing his shoulder. 

“I f-feel you everywhere.”

“You do? You like the way I fill you?” He barely finds the power to ask. He thrusts so fast that he’s breathless.

“Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes, Bucky, it feels so good.” The pace of his fingers is quicker too, and it’s like something electrocuted you when he lightly pinches your clit. “Bucky, don’t stop. Please, I’m coming. I’m coming...” 

You don’t even realize what’s happening to you when the orgasm hits you. You’re crying and basically screaming at this point, and not even biting into his shoulder can keep your voice down. All you can feel is pleasure. So much pleasure everywhere… It’s blinding. How is it possible?

“What a good girl you are… coming all over my cock, asking nicely for my fingers.”

You can barely breathe when you come back to him. When you can open your eyes and watch him so close, too. When you can grab his ass and make him move faster.

“Come for me.” Your other hand caresses his face: forehead, cheek, beard, lips. “James.” You moan when his head lowers until his mouth can wrap around one of your nipples.  And that sound is enough for him to finally let it go. You don’t expect him to be this loud, though, and you smile like a fool, stroking his hair patiently.

You’ve never had someone coming inside you before, truth be told. You had bareback sex once or twice with your first boyfriend, but he always pulled out, so this sensation is new.

“Wow.” He opens his eyes to look at you.

“Wow,” you repeat as he pulls out slowly, but it still makes you hiss. You’re still full of his come… You’re supposed to go shower or at least clean yourself with a towel, right? Maybe you can wait for a little.

But then you feel his cold hand back at your entrance all of a sudden, and two fingers slide inside.

What is he doing?

He surprises you even more as he places the metal fingers covered in come on your lips, but you open your mouth without hesitation. Bucky smiles, which warms your heart before you start sucking on his fingers properly.

After a few seconds, satisfied, Bucky takes them out and immediately moves his hand down, between your bodies.

“You're such a good girl when you want, doll.” Then he kisses you fervently, almost falling on top of you. “Eating my come… tasting us.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Speechless. Even better.” His grin is wide and playful, lighting up his face. He pecks you one more time before leaving the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

You watch him as he walks to the bathroom, and he clearly has the hottest ass you’ve ever seen. And you got to touch it.

You wonder if he wants to leave right after or maybe… You sigh.

As much as you’d want more of this, of him in general, you’re not gonna push him. Even if that was all, it was good. He’s a very thoughtful and skilled man. A perfect combination with that face.

“How are you feeling?” He’s coming back, all freshen up, with a semi-wet towel in his hand, and before you can answer, he’s spreading your legs carefully, then starts cleaning you. “Sore?”

“A little,” you whisper, surprised by his gesture, and he lifts his head.

“Going shy on me, doll?”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” He interrupts you with a smile, taking the towel away. “Maybe next time I can clean you up differently.” And he winks.

Next time…

“What do you mean?”

He comes back, slipping into bed next to you, and licks his lips. “What do you think? Gonna let me?”

Does he mean licking? “How?”

“With my tongue, of course.”

You bite your lip not to moan at the image he’s just planted in your mind. He’s driving you crazy just like that.

“Why not? It sounds so hot. But when’s ‘next time’?”

“Whenever you want.” He smiles, his hair draping all over the pillow as he turns to the side to look at you.

You blush. “I didn’t expect it.”

“What? Me making you come like that or wanting more with you?” He pauses. “I am older than you. A bit more than a decade… But I want to remind you it’s totally okay not to desire more than sex or this. You can always tell me to fuck off.”

You immediately frown. “You’re not a creep, Bucky, we’ve already established that. The age gap is irrelevant in your case since you’re a good man with a healthy mindset, who doesn’t constantly go for younger women.”

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “To be honest, I’ve never dated anyone more than four years younger than me.”

You peck him on his red nose. “That’s what I mean. And I trust you. I’m willing to take this shot because I think it’s worth it. The press talks anyway. Whatever it will be, it will be.”

“I think it’s worth it too, doll.” You feel his lips on your forehead. “Very much. Now let's go to sleep, it’s so late.”

“Good night.” You cover both of you with the sheet.

“Good night.”

[azyimnothere]

HEEEEEELLLLOOOO GUYS GUYS GUYS!!!! 💙💙💙

How are we doing today? I know that they were doing great

It's pretty much an idealized version of what I think that Velchid selfie turned out like, I'd imagine that those little star cameras aren't all that great in resolution since they have so much going on in them to just be able to fly, do you think they'd be like drones or something? If that's the case I can just imagine how bad the paparazzi are in Mount Rageous, or would those cameras only be red carpet exclusive? Who knows, but either way I tried to make it look like a little shittier photo with a lot of blinga-ding from reflection and lights. I hope you guys like it! It isn't my best work to be honest but it's nice 😅

Oh and I don't know if this is already a thing or not, because I checked everywhere and couldn't really find it, tell me if you know someone who made this thingy first so I don't falsely claim it as mine okay?

So it's one where Orchid becomes a surprise assistant to Velvet and Veneer! (And of course Velchid is sprinkled in...not really sprinkled in, more like there's a full tub of salt)

So here's a little backstory if you want to know :D

As we know, there was mentioning of an assistant in the movie, or I just imagine it, I'm not sure atp it's 3 in the morning.

Anywhezel, so I thought it would be in one of those accidental encounters by chance.

Crimp had a hard day, on the verge of a breakdown every second because siblings became "kinda" overbearing, and with no assistant around to help (because they most likely quit), she had no help around them. There was nobody who was willing to take the job that was licensed for working and helping celebrities that way because of all the horror stories previous assistants shared around. Siblings didn't really care Crimp was alone with them, so they just put all the extra stuff on her.

Crimp knew she needed a bit of help purely to keep her sanity on the line with her, so she decided to take a walk and think about what to do next (after she made sure siblings were in bed of course). She sat on a bench in the nearest neon-colored park and cried, not knowing what else to do, and had to let it out.

But she heard someone approaching, turns out it was a purple haired mount rageon and she looked at Crimp sadly, and asking her what's wrong. That's how Crimp met Orchid!

Orchid was making her way from the grocery store and saw Crimp crying on the bench late at night, Orchid recognised her easily since Crimp was mentioned a few times by the siblings on social media, there were also some photos. Plus, despite being small she was hard to miss.

Crimp explained her situation and told Orchid she couldn't do everything alone anymore, and that no one was willing to take over a bit of the burden since the siblings simply scared everyone off. Which made Orchid feel sorry for her.

But Orchid figured, that she could perhaps help Crimp out, the job at that doughnut shop she worked at just wasn't payed enough for her to move out of her mom's apartment, she wasn't forced to move but craved some independence ever since she turned 18 (which wasn't that long ago).

A good bonus was that she got to work with her favorite duo! despite it probably, being a little challenging.

Orchid gave that proposition to Crimp, which made Crimp a bit sceptical, Orchid was a nice girl and didn't deserve that kind of stress, but Orchid persisted because Crimp didn't deserve all that stress either.

On the end Crimp agreed, it only had to go through the approval of the siblings first.

And as expected, Veneer didn't really mind who was helping Crimp as long as they helped Crimp in the first place, and everything gets done in time.

Velvet on the other hand wasn't all that for it, she remembered Orchid faintly from a memory of a concert, which meant Orchid was a fan, she didn't want some nosy stalker snooping around. But as she inspected further, and listened to what Crimp had to say, she reconsidered it and ended up agreeing, unenthusiastically.

So that's how Orchid is now a busy celebrity assistant for two.

The story is a little basic, but it is solid I think, there will probably be comics about it in the future if you're interested! 💕

Also here's some Ritzneer I didn't post, warning! Boys kissing!!!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Love you lovelies!!!! 💙💙💙💙

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Chapter 1 - Security breach

Note: My very own addition to Arkhamverse fics. The chapters would only loosely follow each other, so consider them to be more standalone ficlets. The reader is Catwoman's sidekick/adopted family with a bit of a background of her own. Special thanks to @thinkingofausername for discussing this fic with me. Adding @heavysighing-dreamyeyes and @deimks post-posting.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and torture

You stalked through the dark and eerie corridors of Arkham Asylum. Weeks you have waited for this opportunity. After weeks of preparations, intel gathering and scratched furniture you’re finally here. You waited long for the perfect night, and it came today. The Arkham staff was busy locking Joker away and preening in front of Batman. They won’t even notice a small intervention. Funny, usually people would give everything to get out of Arkham Asylum. Not you though. There was someone locked away in the endless halls of the psych ward that you need to get out.

How could Selina be so careless?? Getting caught by Batman is one thing, but to get locked away in Arkham when usually she would outsmart the cops long before that would happen. Either she’s getting sloppy, or there’s more to it than meets the eye. More than worried though, you’re offended that she’s keeping things from you.

You were thieves, sure. Lying, stealing, conniving bitches… but you always had each other's backs. Ever since she found you curled up in a wet cardboard box in one of the nameless alleyways of Gotham City. The thought of her keeping things from you had you feeling uneasy.

You slinked through the vent into the much nicer corridor than the rest of the hallowed rooms in Arkham. This was a hallway leading to the director’s office. technically, you should have taken a different route through the ventilation system, but there was something you needed to take first. You’re sure Sel would more than appreciate this.

With the cameras momentarily disabled, you needed to be quick but as you walked through the corridor you heard voices getting closer. Quick as a wink, you leaped onto the ceiling, claws holding onto the wooden pilaster. You hoped the guards were stupid enough to not look up, you don’t have much time to play with them today.

Thankfully, the men armed with rifles stalked through the corridor pretty briskly, almost as if in a hurry.

Once the coast was clear, you dropped down onto the red carpet and looked around once more. Your tiny fleshlight dancing on the glass showcases.

You smiled in triumph once you found what you were looking for. The headpiece, the glasses, the gloves. All places are carefully arranged like a museum exhibit.

“Oh, a pressure-sensitive iron mantle, whatever shall I do?” You whispered to yourself dramatically before drawing a quick circle in the glass with your claws. You quickly watched the newly made glass disc as it fell out and started stuffing Selina’s belongings in your bag. Your pointy ears were perked for any upcoming sounds of danger but the place grew eerily quiet.

A shiver went down your spine. Something’s off. You couldn’t tell what but it was like a quiet before the storm.

Just as you were to hop on the ventilation bus once more you heard a voice through the speakers, and you’re as hell not one of the directors.

“Ladies and maniacs, I apologize for this interruption in your regular entertainment…”

Ah, fuck.

What seemed at first like the best night at infiltrating Arkham soon chose to be the worst. The asylum was on fire. There was no better way to say it. Joker took over the place and soon there were madmen everywhere. To your dismay, the shitstain also took over the security gates.

You kept running through the dark halls full of ingrates of the asylum and SWAT members, you weren’t particularly thrilled with meeting either of those. You sidestepped the bodies, trying to not ponder too much about the slaughterhouse you found yourself in.

Finally, you enter the Decontamination room, holding cells should be closed now. You hear some yelling as the room fills with prisoners.

“Oh, we’re gonna have with you, kitty cat.” One of them gives you a slimy sneer.

You smirk, “Oh, so do I.”

They all run up to you expecting and easy fight. Soon the room fills with their wails as your claws slice their flesh to ribbons. A well-aimed kick to the chest of one sends you flying onto the head of another. You use his head as a lever from which you kick everyone standing close. You bounce back off of him and let on your feet with grace. You straighten up hands raised but they’re all lying down. How disappointing…

A shadow passed over you and you recognize the bat-shaped cape. Shit, hopefully, he didn’t see you there. Relfexivelly you roll over to the next sliding door. The deeper you progress into the asylum the more you encounter green glowing graffiti of smiling faces.

Ugh. This is bad.

Thankfully she’s not in Extreme Isolation. Let’s see… section B2…section B2…

Your ears pick up on the sound of quiet, ragged breathing. All night, you heard the blasting of sirens, the thudding of boots, and maddened shouting. This is a new one. You keep listening to the stranger's stumbling steps, accompanied by strange shuffling. He must be leaning up against the wall.

You lower your head and raise your hands in a fighting posture, whoever it is they better not try anything funny. You hear them stumble, followed by a loud thud, then a small pathetic whine. You roll your eyes and round the corner. Whoever it is, they are more likely to threaten rats scuttling around than you, you just quickly knock them up and head to…

The moment your eyes lay on the stranger splayed on the floor, your stomach churns. It’s a man, rather small and frail one if you had to guess by the way the asylum uniform hangs on his body. A mop of matted, black hair sits on top of his head. Whatever skin you can see is either red or purple. You tentatively step closer, almost scared of what horrible things will closer proximity give you. At the sound of your heel clicking against the iron flooring, the stranger shakily pulls his head up, one blood-soaked eye staring at you in horror. He starts writhing uncontrollably, probably trying to shuffle away from you, but his body is so brutalized that all he can do is fumble in place.

“Hey…hey…calm down.” The soothing edge to your tone surprises even you, but it's hard to be intimidating when the man is so beaten up he might as well be a corpse.

Your words do not make him settle down, if anything, they agitate him even further. His movements get more erratic a quiet sobs that almost sound like a ‘no’ fall from his mouth.

You sigh. I don’t have time for this.

Nevertheless, you crouch in front of him, carefully placing your hands under his armpits to at least sit him against the wall. He tries to fight you, but there is no strength behind it. When you hold him so close, you note how bony he truly is.

“What the hell happened to you??” You mumble more to yourself than him, because at this point, you gave up hope of any conversation with him.

You grasp his chin, angling his face to get a good look at him. You try to keep your cool as you look upon a black eye so swollen you doubt he can see something, a broken nose, split lip, and sunken, bloodied mouth.

Your stomach lurches and you have to look away for a second, but then only draws your attention to the scarred arm desperately pawing at you. You notice a bloodied fingertip and upon closer inspection, you realize that this man’s nails were ripped off.

You have to squeeze your eyes for a moment, doing your hardest not to throw up or run away. You’ve seen your fair share of violence as Gotham’s criminal, but you’ve never encountered such blatant brutality.

The man’s ragged breaths bring you back to the present. Without further thinking, you put down the small backpack you brought with you and start pulling out the first aid essentials. You brought those for Selina, in case she’s roughened up from Gotham’s inmates, but whatever state she’s in, you doubt it’s as bad as this guy.

He’s mostly calm when you start wiping off the blood. No, not calm, unresponsive. He’s whole body is slack and he’s looking miles away, as if he’s mentally in a different place. Considering the naked fear in his eyes, it’s probably not a good place.

But you can’t do anything about that. You’re not a trained therapist. Hell, you’re not a trained medic, but here you are, wasting away precious resources on someone you don’t even know. Maybe he even won’t survive this night.

Yet, you continue. You find the reason behind his fall. His ankle is badly twisted. Thankfully you have experience with this type of injury.

“Uh, hey… your ankle is broken. I have to set it back. It’s uh…gonna hurt bad.” You shrug hopelessly because there’s no point in lying to him. Still, he doesn’t respond. You carefully lift his foot and place it against your thigh. You firmly grasp his ankle in one hand and his instep in the other and as quickly as you can, you twist. The bone falls back with a pop and he chokes out a painful wail. He tries to, at least. His scratched throat won’t allow more than broken wheezing. He probably wrecked his vocal cords from screaming and groaning.

You swallow bile in your throat and instead of dwelling on these thoughts, you start hauling him up. As you walk, you decide to drop this dude off somewhere safe, as safe as anywhere on Arkham island could be, and then speed off to Selina. Just a small detour. She spent two months at Arkham, she could wait another hour.

A bunch of criminals drop from the ceiling.

Or two.

Jason wasn’t sure if the girl was real, or if she was just another hallucination born from his broken mind.

This whole day could be just a dream. When the clown didn’t show up for his usual bound of torture, he assumed that the inmates of the asylum would take their turns with him. He had presented a perfect opportunity for anyone to have fun with him, with the injuries he sported from his last torture session, but the inmates he met on his way from his wing of the asylum, just passed him without even a glance. For whatever reason, that made his eyes sting with fresh tears. He’s not worthy of even that after all. Batman left him for dead, and so did Joker. What had kept him from curling up in a ball and waiting for death?

Because he waited for death for months now, and it didn’t come. Only pain pain and more pain on the top of sick games the clown played on him. He hoped that if not freedom he might as well end it on his own ends. Jason will greet the grim reaper halfway.

Instead of a skeleton with a scythe, he met a small girl with cat ears. And now said girl is throwing his barely functioning body onto a nearby hospital bed while Gotham's worst is running towards her with raised fists. Jason had to suppress the involuntary whimper that dragged its way through his throat. Too many times they walked up to him, tied to a chair, itching for a fight. This time, it wasn’t his nose getting smashed in or his head put in a swivel.

He watched as you beat up every single man who approached you, body fluid, and shoulders relaxed. Like a dancer, or a cat. One man that got too close to him got his throat garroted by your whip and thrown away like a rag doll.

A glint in the corner of his eye caught his attention. One of the prisoners feigned unconsciousness while he pulled a knife, drawn to stab you in the back while you were preoccupied with his friends. With the strength he didn’t know he had, Jason tackled the man with a yell. That surprised the ruffian enough to drop a knife, and he threw Jason to the ground like a pesky fly. Jay grunted in pain when his back hit the floor. The man stood over him but before he could do anything, a well-aimed kick pinned him to the wall beside Jason, and then he dropped to the ground.

“Nice work! We’ll make a sidekick out of you yet.”

Your voice was sweet. The amused and carefree lilt was so out of this place. No one has spoken to him like this since the Clown caught him. No one has touched him without intent to hurt him. Yet here, you are, pulling him flush to your soft body and once again walking him somewhere.

“You…real?” He looks at you through the bruising of his eye.

You adjust him against your side as you sneer down at him, “Your knight in black leather, sweetheart.”

That was the last thing Jason heard before he lost consciousness.

Carrying an injured man is fucking hard. Carrying an injured, unconscious man is even harder. You seriously considered dropping him off multiple times, but every time, you decided against it considering how much work it took to get him so far.

No good deed goes unpunished.

The network stopped working a while ago, so you had to rely on orientation signs and a few screens that still worked. You rounded the corner at the utility room. Once you make it there it should be easy. Based on what you remember from extensive studying of Arkham infrastructure, you should appear at the east of the island. You were a few feet from the door when the speakers blasted the voice of that disgusting clown. His bullshit didn’t phase you, the same can’t be said about your companion. The moment Joker’s deranged laughter reaches his ears, he completely freezes, and then starts trembling uncontrollably. It gets so intense he slips out of your grip and slides down the wall.

“Hey! No no no, not now!”

You tried to tug him up, to get him moving. But it was like his soul left his body. His breathing grew more ragged, the trembling got even worse, and a thin sheen of cold sweat coated his entire body. The man was losing control right in front of you, and you were hopeless at what to do.

Sudden frustration rose in your chest. Sel is somewhere out there, maybe hurt, definitely scared, even if she wouldn’t admit it. And you’re losing time with a man who can’t even…

Because the guy decided to lose it right under the corridor lightning, it’s the first time you see his face properly. His head lols down in defeat and that’s when you notice the letter J branded on his cheek. Fresh blood oozing from the wound, the flesh around it red and puckered. Suddenly things clicked into place. What other sick fuck would brand their name upon their victim's flesh? Several actually, at least when it comes to Gotham. But you knew only one whose name started with J. Your frustration went away.

“Listen to me… erm… what’s your name again?” No answer.

You grasp his shaking shoulders and shake him gently.

“You need to knock out of it. We’re almost out.” You try to sound as encouraging as possible, but he’s not moving or saying anything.

Instead of shaking him, you opt for taking his face in your hands.

“Look at me. Breathe.” He’s looking at you, but he doesn’t see you, eyes glazed over, bloody mouth slack-jawed.

You’re looking at this man, this boy, and wonder if he’ll ever get over the horrors he experienced in this place. If there’s even anything you can do to bring him back at this point.

Hopeless about what to do, you resort to the last thing that comes to your mind.

You kiss him.

It’s not fun, with all the blood and missing teeth, but despite it all, you notice his lips are stupidly soft and plump for an Arkham inmate.

At first, nothing happens. The shaking and labored breathing stops. You think he lost consciousness again, but when you pull away, his eyes are clear and present and he’s staring right at you.

“Now. Lets. Go.” You growl firmly as you wipe his blood from the corner of your mouth and the boy is in too much stupor to protest. He lets you take his hand and drag him towards the door.

When the cold, salty air hits your face, you almost collapse and your feet from relief. But at least one of you has to be the stable one. You take him by the shoulders and sit him on one of the concrete blocks lying around.

“Have you any idea how much time I lost because of you?!” You nagged him even as you pulled a water bottle out of your bag and pressed it to his lips.

“If you get out of here, you owe me big time.”

The guy is probably still recovering from that kiss because he was unresponsive again. At least this time you knew he was sane.

You sigh. No point standing there bitching.

“Either hide till sunrise or go to the port and sneak onto the boat. Think you can manage that? Scratch that, you don’t have any choice. I can’t coddle you anymore. I’m not here to be someone’s savior. I mean I am but not… you.”

You turn around if you take a shortcut over the buildings roofs, you should drop down to Selina’s cell unit. Hopefully, she hasn’t met Crock or Clayface on her way out.

Of course, the moment you turn away is the moment he decides to speak.

“Your… name?”

Your name? You do have one of those. The one you use as you scale rooftops and lockpick safes and break out dumb cat burglars.

With a cock of a hip and wink you blow him one last kiss.

“Stray.”

[keerysfreckles]

your kiss - peter parker

pairing: tom!peter x f!reader

summary: peter, your best friend, also known as spiderman swings into your bedroom after a night of patrolling and finds you asleep on your desk. he tries his best to be quiet while tidying up your room, but things change - for the better ?

warnings: PURE FLUFF!!! use of y/n and she/her pronouns

ﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟﾟ*☆*ﾟ

peter parker has always been enthralled by y/n. ever since the first day of freshman year, since the two were biology lab partners. the two were quick to have a connection, and were soon best friends by the end of the first semester.

he was enticed by her. the way her hair bounced on her shoulders as she walked from classes. or the way her eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite book. he especially loved how her smile got slightly wider once he stepped in the room.

y/n was always on his mind. whether it be a reminder for him to ask how her day was, or because he simply couldn't stop thinking about the girl.

lately y/n and peter haven't been able to talk much, due to peter being busy being the friendly neighborhood spiderman, and y/n was tackling college applications as well as essays and exams.

every friday night, peter would stop by y/n's apartment she lived in with her parents. her parents absolutely adored peter when she brought him over to study for an upcoming economy test.

this friday was no different, as peter finally swung on his last web to get to the girl's window. he caught his breath as he took his mask off, while sliding open y/n's bedroom window.

his feet hit the carpeted floor of y/n's room, and he smiles softly once he sees y/n asleep. her head was resting on her folded arms, which were covering pages of her unfinished essay. her computer was open and on the dim screen was a half finished college application. peter chuckled quietly, as he closed the window, and threw his mask at the edge of her bed.

peter made his way towards y/n's desk and turned off the lamp. he closed her laptop, and tried his best to clean up the supplies the girl wasn't laying on. peter also couldn't help but notice she was wearing his midtown sweatshirt. he must've left it over one time, and now he was glad he did. he thought she looked adorable in it.

as peter was moving the books off the desk and towards y/n's bookshelf, y/n lifted her head from her arms, and rubbed the drool that was leaving her lips. she turned in her desk chair, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"pete? what are you doing here?" her voice was quiet, and hoarse considering she just woke up.

peter walks over towards her, "just doing my weekly check in. i see you're still busy with college stuff."

y/n only nods, and peter notices her shoulders tense at the mention of it.

"how were the streets of queens tonight?" y/n asks the superhero, as he sits on her bed and she starts to clean up her desk.

"they were alright," peter shrugged, "i caught a guy stealing from the deli. so i guess that's something."

y/n nodded intently, as he continued to tell her about his night. peter couldn't help but let his eyes trail over y/n's figure as she sat on top of her desk across from her bed.

y/n couldn't help but let her eyes go back and forth between his face and his body in his spider suit.

as y/n was not-so-discretly looking over peter's body, peter smirked. "why are you staring at me like that y/n?" he let out a breathy laugh, mostly out of nerves.

y/n's face instantly changed into a shade of red. "i wasn't staring," she lies.

out of no where, peter suddenly gains confidence. he isn't sure where it comes from, but before he knows how to stop, he's walking towards y/n. he simply stood in front of the girl, his hands were placed on both of her bare knees.

peter's voice is soft, scared if he spoke any louder he'd scare y/n off. "i don't know what it is about you y/n, but i've always been captived by you."

"captived?" y/n reiterates, surprised at the confession by the boy. her cheeks grow hotter as peter moves forward, now standing directly in between y/n's thighs. his hands don't leave her legs, while his thumbs rub comforting circles over her skin.

"why do you think i stop by here every week?" he honestly asks.

y/n shrugs, as her brain becomes foggy at the close proximity of the pair, "because you care about me?"

peter slightly chuckles, "well yeah i care about you. but it's mainly an excuse so i can see you."

y/n doesn't know how to respond, and is grateful once peter continues, "i've liked you since the first day of freshman year. i've always liked you y/n. even when you dated that douchebag jonathan, and came home crying almost every night because of him. i've liked you since sophomore formal, and i got enough courage to ask you to dance with me. i've liked you since i told you i was spiderman, basically trusting you with the biggest secret of my entire life. and i've liked you since you started applying to all these colleges. i've always liked you y/n."

y/n's silent, as she takes in all of peter's words. of course they all caught her by surprise. she's liked peter since the night of the sophomore formal. she remembers the night vividly. how she danced with peter, and got milkshakes with him afterwards.

peter's voice gets caught in his throat, creating a more raspiness to it as his leans closer towards y/n and whispers, "if you don't want me to kiss you, just say so."

only a moment passes before y/n's the one to lean forward, connecting her lips to peter's. her hands move to his shoulders, and peter kisses her with such force. he's been waiting to kiss the girl for four years, of course there's going to be force behind it.

"wow," y/n whispers as peter pulls away. her hands don't leave his shoulders, and only move to his neck to lightly play with the curls at the base of his neck.

peter looks down to his midtown sweatshirt y/n's wearing, "y'know, i could get used to you wearing my clothes."

y/n giggles, a hard blush forming on her cheeks. peter leans forward and kisses y/n's lips again, much quicker than before.

"how would you feel about being spiderman's girlfriend?" peter asks.

"it would be an honor," y/n giggles once again, before pulling peter in again and kissing his lips. that wasn't the only kiss shared for the rest of the night.

[lokisprettygirl]

Under his influence (Post Avengers! Loki x female reader)

Read chapter 11 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 12

Summary : Your relationship with Loki is growing, your mom tries to play a matchmaker again.

Warning: 18+, Soft Smut, mention of psychological torture, angst, insecurities, self deprecating behaviour, anxiety and overwhelming emotions

"Captain? " Loki called out for Steve as he was about to step out of the training room so he turned around and looked at Loki "May I have a word with you?"

"What is it?" Steve crossed his arms as he questioned.

"I wanted to discuss that statement you gave about me, that I was pretending to be you to steal the scepter" Steve chuckled as loki said that,

"Loki loki, everything is out in the open now, you can drop the act and your lies..it was probably something you did before you disappeared" Steve turned around to leave again

"But what if I'm not lying? What if I wasn't there? What if it wasn't me? Steve halted in his steps as he thought about it "Give it a thought"

Loki walked out , leaving Rogers to contemplate over his words. How could it be possible? He saw the exact doppelganger of him and only loki had the ability to do that. The doppleganger did seem a little different though.

Loki was supposed to be at some gala with other Avengers in the evening and the thought saddened you, mainly because you knew you probably won't see him tonight and you had seen him just twice in the last week, and he was also taking Melisaa to the gala so there were plenty of reasons to keep you anxious throughout the day. You knew he wasn't interested in her but there will be other women there, it was a fancy Gala and all famous rich people were invited, what if he meets someone interesting and they hit it off? What if he realizes that you weren't the best thing he could do in midgard.

Was it too soon to show him your crazy side yet? It's been almost five months since you had met him but it already felt like a lifetime, you have never had a man who made you feel so fulfilled and you didn't even have sex yet. He had so much more to offer to you than just sex, he understood you and your neediness but that could get tiring with time. That's what drove so many guys away from you because you showed them your crazy side too early.

You sat down on the sofa after work and turned the tv on, there was a red carpet and everything. You watched these people and you couldn't relate, you could never imagine yourself to ever be a part of such a circle. However Loki fit in just fine, he was a prince and it showed, his upbringing made it easier for him to blend with those pretentious people, watching him with Melissa hanging around in his arm only made you feel worse. He had a black suit on and he looked handsomer beyond this realm.

"Loki, a quick question..who are you wearing?" The girl interviewing all the celebs asked him and he seemed perplexed.

"Uhhh who am I wearing?" He looked at her confused so Melissa answered on his behalf, the furrowed brows and pursed lips made you want to hug him instantly.

"God you're cute" you whined to yourself, you felt extremely hormonal today, maybe you were pmsing again.

'You're such an embarassement" Melissa whispered in his ear so he glared at her, why would they even ask such a stupid question? What was he supposed to say?

He wished you were here with him, you probably would have found him cute even when he was fumbling like a fool. As soon as they got inside the venue he let go of her hand to get away from her.

"So that's the girl he was staying with for months before you guys captured him again?" Pepper asked Tony so he looked at her for a few seconds before he spoke,

"Yeahh whhy? Isn't she perfect for him?"

"Is she? I mean they're not even talking to each other, look at him" Pepper said to him so he looked at Loki "He'd rather spend his time at the bar then be with her, they look so in love in interviews and stuff" Tony squeezed his eyes as she said that.

"Yeah may be the relationship has run its course"

She looked at him confused and then she shrugged. Her curiosity has been peaked though.

"Brother, when all these people are inebriated I can drop you off to see lady y/n' Loki gave him a side eye as Thor approached him with the proposal.

"Alright, what am I missing here? What is the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Motive, you must have a motive, you are not helping me because of the goodness of your heart are you? Where do you go?" Thor was taken aback by the sudden scrutiny.

"I'm appalled brother, is this what I get for reuniting you with the love of your life? Must it be this difficult for you to believe that I want your happiness?" Thor retorted.

"Hahaha, I laughed, now tell me the truth, who are you seeing? Oh is it the mortal you were besotted with?" Loki asked him again.

"I am not seeing Jane.. absolutely not"

"That is fabulous, Asgard's first man in the line of throne is courting a mortal, what is mother's opinion about that?" Thor sighed, there was no denying it any longer.

"She doesn't know yet and she can not know and for the love of norns lower your voice"

"Oh I'm just overjoyed brother, mother might be unaware of your insolent behaviour but do you really think the loyal snitch would stay quiet for long?"

"Yes he will, Heimdall gave me his word" Loki rolled his eyes as he heard that.

"Oh I forgot he was the royal snitch of Odin, Frigga and Thor"

"Well perhaps he might have been fond of you if you hadn't played those countless tricks on him as a child" Loki scoffed at the insult.

"Yes, a child, I was a child"

"You froze him merely a few years ago"

"He commited treason "

Thor rolled his eyes at the comment but what Loki said next pleased him "Whatever your hidden motive might be, I'm still grateful so–"

"Are you trying to tell me you appreciate my help?"

"Yes"

"Well I appreciate your appreciation "

Loki shook his head before he smiled.

Your phone was ringing so you picked it up hoping that it was Loki, unfortunately it wasn't him but your mother instead..

"Hey mom"

"Hi, listen, remember David's best man Eugene?"

"Gee mom I'm good, how are you?" She groaned at the response before she asked you the same question again.

"Can't say that I do"

"Okay whatever" She sighed deeply before she spoke again "His son is going to be in Minnesota for two days, I'm going to send you his phone number, talk to him" the anxiety rose as she mentioned one more guy she wanted to set you up with.

"What? Isn't he like 40??" You screamed as if you weren't canoodling a guy who was forty plus an extra thousand years.

"He's 35 y/n, he's a doctor and well reputed, you're not some 20 year old yourself, just do me a favor and meet him once"

"Mom I'm not going to do that, I'm seeing someone" you said to her, hoping she'd respect that and would realise that you were fucking 30.

"Yeah who is it? Who are you seeing?"

"God"

You could feel your mother's eyes rolling at the quip, but you weren't lying to her.

"Just show him around, if nothing..you can atleast be friends with him, are you against that as well now?"

You groaned as she continued to be insufferable about it so you agreed to see this man, after all he'd only be there for two days.

"Fine I'll show him around"

You hung up the phone and sighed, this wasn't what you needed, it was like a cherry on the top of a perfect day. You opened YouTube and saw several videos about the stupid gala, you just wanted to see what people were saying about the new IT couple Meloki as they liked to call them affectionately. You stumbled upon a video that showed their relationship timeline from the moment they met. Wow some people really had way too much time on their hands to be so invested like this. You read the comments and some of them made you laugh while others made you feel even worse,

You put the phone down in order to not hurt yourself any more.

You felt horrible at the moment and every time such feelings occurred you felt overwhelmed by the whirlpool of emotions. You were in love with him and he had become the best friend you had always wanted in your life, someone who wouldn't use you and deceive you for selfish purposes, there was a genuine affection from his side that you always felt whenever he was around you but then you have had such friends before, you had those people who cared at first but now they didn't even know whether you were alive or dead.

Sometimes it was who had to cut them off because they couldn't stop hurting you but that didn't mean that you came out unscathed, it still hurt, the memories hurt, the promises hurt, the loss of friendship hurt.

You laid down on the bed and cried your heart out, you spent a month where you couldn't get in touch with Loki and those days were damaging, you didn't think you'd be able to go through that pain again. It was easier to move on when the people you considered your friends had hurt you but losing Loki? You didn't think you'd ever survive losing the way he cared about you, you couldn't imagine seeing a day where you two would be nothing but strangers to each other.

It was starting to get harder to breathe, your own overthinking was driving you into panic, you stuffed your face between the pillow as you cried and cried. In that moment you just wanted to talk to him and have him tell you that he won't hurt you or leave you like others did.

When you heard the knocks on the window just a few seconds later for a second you thought you had imagined it but then you looked at the window and there he was smiling so innocently so you got up, wiped your face as best as you could and walked towards the window to open it so he could get in, he had a dark green shirt on and a black trouser, you could see his long hair waving because of the wind,

"Hiiii" you mumbled as you opened the window but before he could climb in he grabbed your chin and pulled you in to kiss you softly before he let go "Ummm i thought you were not coming tonight"

"I was missing you darling" you nodded and stepped back so he could get in, he noticed you had his shirt on that he had left there or in other words the shirt you had stolen from him.

"Are you okay..you seem..were you crying?" You shook your head as you turned around, you didn't want to snap in front of him.

Before you could get away he grabbed your arm around turned you towards him, he hugged you briefly before he pulled away and grabbed your chin to make you look at him

"Now tell me what's wrong and this time I don't want you to lie to me" he asked, his voice was tender and sweet.

"Nothing..it's nothing…I was just missing you" you pursed your lips to control your sobs but they came out anyways,

"I was missing you"

"You were?" You sobbed even harder and his eyes teared up too.

"How could I not sweetheart hmm?" He cupped your cheeks, leaned down to kiss you and his thumbs proceeded to wipe your tears simultaneously,

"That's just not it, is it? Something else is eating you up..tell me, share with me" he questioned you but you could only hiccup between your cries. Why were you like this?

"It's ..I don't want to annoy you"

"Annoy me? Did I annoy you that day when I wept like a baby in your arms?"

He questioned you softly so you shook your head, you looked like a child at the moment and it made him smile. He just wanted to take away whatever was bothering you and make you feel better

"I just don't want you to leave because people leave when I'm like this, they don't like me like this" the broken voice and the fear your words held made his heart sink, to learn that people had hurt you so badly in the past that you felt afraid sharing your feelings with him was heartbreaking for him.

"Like what princess? You feel hurt and you just want to be held and comforted, there's nothing wrong with that" the back of his fingers brushed against your cheek as he cooed.

"No???"

"Why would this ever drive me away?"

"I just don't want you to leave " you sobbed even harder so he hugged you and gave you the time to let it all out, he could feel your heart thumping in your chest and he knew this thing has been building up from quite some time now. You both had your insecurities and he wanted to be there for you the way you have been there for him.

"Princess I just need you to know and understand that I'm not going to leave, I'd always need you more than you could ever need me" you pulled away to look at him as he said that. You didn't know why would a god like him would ever need you but you liked the sound of that, mainly because of the look on his face.

"Come here sweet thing" he cupped your cheeks again to kiss your forehead and then he took you to the bed, perhaps cuddles would make you feel better. For once he was the one being the bigger spoon here, he made you lay down on his chest and you held onto him as tightly as you could.

"I was just watching you and Melissa on the tv or should I say Meloki and it just bothered me alot" you mumbled so he laid you down on the bed and turned towards you so he could look at you while talking, he laid sideways on his arm and used those fingers of his to caress your scalp while the other hand wrapped around waist and you felt them running up and down on your back

"Meloki? What is that? An ailment of some sort?" you chuckled as he said that

"It's just not her.. I kept thinking about all those gorgeous people at the gala and I just wanted to be there with you..but at the same time I know I'd never fit in"

"Not fit in? My sweetheart you'd not only fit in but stand out between those shallow dimwits, they are just a bunch of buffoons anyways" you giggled as he said that.

"You're so cute" you scooted closer to him and placed your head between the crook of his neck, your arm curled around his slender waist,

"Someday we will tell this whole planet of our truth and it would be glorious"

"It will be glorious" you said excitedly

"Are you feeling better?"

"Mmmhmmm now that you're here I'm Okay..are you gonna stay?"

"Absolutely, besides Thor is out galavanting with his own mortal"

You pulled away to look at him as he said that.

"Is she the same girl he fell for when he came here?"

"That would be her"

"Ahhhh that's nice..ohhhh your parents are going to kill you both"

"Not me, I'm no Asgardian any longer" he chuckled so you kissed him again. He was so adorable.

"Ummmm I have to tell you something..my mother is trying to set me up with this doctor guy, he's the son of my stepfather's friend " he pulled away slightly to look at you.

"I don't like the sound of that"

"Trust me, me neither, but he's going to be here for two days so I'm just gonna meet him and show him around the city"

"What happened to the don't see other people pact?" He pouted so you pecked on his lips again.

"I'm not going to see him, I'm just going to be a fancy tour guide"

"Uhhuhh but what if he sweeps you off your feet?"

"He can compete but he's never winning against thisssss right here" you pointed towards his heart so he smiled "Mr Loki there are no men like you"

He chuckled before he got on top of you and kissed you, he hated the idea of you going out with this guy he knew nothing about but he couldn't have stopped you either, your mother wanted you to see him and you couldn't have denied, besides from what he had heard your mother hated him so it wasn't really wise to tell her about you two just yet.

"Lokiiiii" you moaned into his mouth so he hummed.

"I have your shirt on"

"You think I didn't notice?"

"Mmhmmm did you notice that I am not wearing much underneath it?" He stopped kissing you and looked at you intently, of course he noticed, you just had your underwear on but he didn't want to say anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.

"I did"

He leaned into you and kissed you again while you pulled his shirt out of the confinement of his pants before you unbuttoned it slowly, he moaned into your mouth as your fingernails caressed his bare skin,

"It amazes me how you are so unaware of your good looks" you whispered in his ear and he let out a nervous laughter, kissing down from your jawline his lips trailed over your collarbone slowly, every inch of your skin felt tingling with anticipation of what was about to happen or how far you both were going to take this.

He shifted on top of you, situating his knees on either side of your waist to support his weight.

"If you're ever burdened by those tormenting misconceptions regarding yourself again just remember that no matter where I am, your thoughts are all I carry in my head" your eyes teared up as he said that.

"Mmmmhmmm really?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about you little one, i just wanted to come back here and love you like this" you gulped as he said that, your fingers curled around his neck and you pulled him closer to you to kiss him passionately,

He wanted to stay patient but how could he when you touched him and kissed him so desperately, he could feel the heat radiating off your body, he never knew that he'd ever come to crave the feeling of a woman's warm body underneath him, he wanted to get burned by the heat you were radiating, the energy that felt torturous in other situations only gave him pleasure at the moment.

His hands sneaked under the shirt you were wearing and you let out a loud moan as his fingers trailed over your erect nipples,

"Looo..gosh babyyyy" you whined and bit on your lips as he gave them a little squeeze,

"I have thought about this a countless times since we have met" he mumbled softly.

"You did?"

"Mmmhmm especially when we were separated, your thoughts were the only thing keeping me sane at nights, in every possible way" he whispered in your ear before he sucked on your neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist , the feeling of his cock rubbing against your core was almost too much to take, your body felt shaky, you have never been the subject of such eroticism before, you only read about it and saw the sweltering passion in movies but now you knew how it felt to be touched so sensually by man you were actually in love with.

"Gossshhh Loki…oh goddd"

You cried out his name as he gyrated his hips into your core, your hand gripped his bicep to feel a sense of security because even though you were on the bed you felt as if you'd fall down even lower and deeper into the grounds, it felt like a trance that you were afraid to break out of.

He grabbed the collar of your shirt between his fists and ripped them apart in one quick motion, breaking all the buttons at once, the subtle flaunt of the inhumane strength only added to your arousal, the things he could do to you and with you and the things you'd allow him to do to you were infinite in number. You'd do anything for him as long as he'd continue to rub against you like this .

He allowed the shredded fabric to stay on your body but your breasts were visible to him now, his cock had gotten so hard that he feared he'd come almost instantly.

"Norns you're beautiful, so beautiful, it's taking everything in me to not claim you as my own" he whispered so you cupped his cheeks,

"I'm all yours i promise..i promise" he kissed you feverishly before he grabbed your hips and aided them to match his own movements,

"You are mine darling and I'll never let you go, never"

"Yessss godd yess stay with me, be with me, all of you..with me, I need it lo, I need it"

Your voice trembled as you spoke, words barely audible but he heard them when you whispered everything in his ears, the day he had met you he felt so strangely connected to you and with time he had only fallen in love with every little thing about you that made you so completely you.

"Lokiii I'm gonna…oh wowww" you moaned his name and he couldn't take his eyes off your face, the dimly lit room made the moment even more perfect. He could see you, touch you, you were half naked underneath him but there was still a sense of mystery.

"I know, i know love, let go, cum with me"

You didn't need anything else, it worked like a charm, a trigger, him asking you to cum in that deep husky breathy voice of his was the only push you needed, the hold of your legs around him tightened and your body convulsed underneath him, if he wasn't holding onto you so fiercely your body would have thrashed uncontrollably, maybe someday he could watch you do just that..

You lifted your hips up and gyrated against him in the wake of your high, that made him combust too and it was glorious in every way, he had sex a million times before but he had never been so pleased like this, it wasn't the orgasm itself but the woman who was pleasing him beyond belief.

He placed his head down on your breasts to calm down, your fingers scratched his scalp gently, both of your bodies felt utterly spent.

After a few minutes he laid down next to you so he wasn't crushing you underneath his weight. You turned towards him and gave him a smile which he returned immediately.

"So now we are friends who kiss sometimes, don't see other people and do Thattttt" he chuckled as you said that

"Princess at this point it's safe to say that we are friends who are also lovers"

"I love being your lover"

"So do I"

You kissed him lovingly before you got off the bed to clean yourself up but he was too relaxed to even move a muscle so he used a charm to take care of the mess he had caused in his pants, when you came back from the bathroom he was in a fresh pair of pants.

You didn't remember much after that because as soon as you got back to the bed, he spooned into you like a baby and it merely took a minute for you two to fall asleep.

He woke you up around five in the morning because he knew Thor would be there to take him back to the tower and he wanted to spend some time with you before he would leave.

You kissed him again and you kissed him in a manner that would keep him obsessing over it for the rest of the day

"Don't fall in love with this healer"

"And if I do?" You mumbled teasingly

"I would just have to murder him I'm afraid"

You giggled at the response. He did enjoy stabbing bad people. You fixed the collar of his shirt and his hair seemed all poofy so you made him sit down at the edge of the bed while you brushed them with a comb.

"You have the softest hair lo..such a pretty baby you are" he giggled at the comment. God you loved him.

You missed him as soon as he was gone and now you had to worry about meeting this guy after work, your mother had given you his phone number so you called him, you didn't understand why he wasn't the one to call you since he was visiting. Just the phone call was enough of an indication that you weren't going to get along with this man. He sounded arrogant

"I'm sorry I'm late" you apologized as you spotted him at the restaurant, your mom had mailed a picture of him to you so it was easier to recognise.

"It's fine I guess, I'm used to such tardiness" he smiled but you could tell he was annoyed, you didn't miss the sarcasm in his tone.

"Ummm okay actually I don't think I got your name yet, my mom told me everything except your name, I'm y/n by the way" you raised your hand forward so he looked at it for a few seconds before he shook it.

"Hello y/n, my name is Doctor Stephen Strange"

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Tag list (if you want to be tagged or removed let me know.. also I’m not able to tag some of you, please check your settings)

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[aphrogeneias]

it's been seven hours and fifteen days —

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (soulmate!au)

summary: you and eddie find each other again at the deuce. your reunion is surprisingly easy, but your past was from it.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: angst, fluff, some soulmate lore, childhood memories, small mentions of sickness and death (eddie's mom). reader is referred to by a nickname (joan).

series masterlist

It started with a book.

At first, you weren’t sure if that’s what it meant, though you were taught to expect it ever since you were able to understand the concept of soulmates, right about the time you were taught how to read and write.

Everyone had one, or at least that's what you were taught as well. As soon as you were able to remember, you'd hear stories about people finding their other half through their lost belongings, objects traveling around the world to the hands of the ones who held their owner's heart. 

Quite a simple concept, really. Everything that is lost by someone is never really lost, only found by their soulmate, and that was how they are supposed to find their way to each other. A trail of crumbs to your final destination, your fated pair.

You didn't understand how it worked until you started school. Then, it would become a reality, and not just the stories your mother would tell as she put you to bed at night and filled your little heart with wonder. Classmates would come in with their soulmates' things in their bag, eager to show them off — toys of all kinds, notebooks written in entirely different alphabets, earrings missing one pair, blankets, teddy bears.

In the year you started middle school, there were around four billion people in the world. You'd figured you would be one of the kids who's soulmate lived on the other side of the world, rather than the ones who found their other half on the next town over, or just a state away. It would be just your luck, of course.

It turned out you didn't have to look that far. He lived in the same neighborhood.

Your mom had a friend called Jane. You remember Jane because you thought she was beautiful, with her kind brown eyes and long flowing skirts. Jane seemed to you like a fairy from your storybooks, shrouded in ethereal mystery. She was always in your mother's kitchen, both of them sitting on your dinner table, and talking for what felt like hours, and she always brought along her son. A boy your age called Edward, or just Eddie, how he always liked to be called.

You barely remember a time where Eddie wasn't in your life. His mother would bring him along and you'd spend your afternoons together, playing and building worlds of your own on the carpet of your childhood bedroom. You were knights and princesses, pirates and mermaids, aliens and astronauts, but most of all you were free to be whoever you wanted to be in those golden-tinted days of your childhoods.

One day, when you were eleven, a book appeared on the floor of your bedroom. You recalled it just like that, because it wasn't there in one moment, and all you had to do was turn your head the other way, and when you looked back to that same spot, there it was.

A 1965 edition of The Fellowship of the Rings, by Ballantine Books. It had a blue cover with red details, and you knew right away it wasn't yours. You didn't own any of the Lord of the Rings trilogy books because you had never read them, and Eddie, already your best friend by then, never let you forget it.

Upon further inspection, you found two notes written on the first page. One was a note written in red ink, addressed to Jane by someone named Al — Eddie's das, that much you knew, and you also knew he wasn't around much — and below that, a more recent note written in blue ink that said:

"To my precious son,

Happy Birthday!

May you always find your way home.

From your mother.

06/11/1976"

At first, you'd thought Eddie had forgotten it on your last playdate, though you didn't remember him carrying a book with him that day. Your answer came a few days later when Jane was visiting, and you overheard her saying to your mother that Eddie was distraught upon finding that he'd lost his favorite book. He had brought it to school with him, and when he went home, it wasn't in his backpack.

It didn't take too long for you to put two and two together.

Scared of everyone's reactions — your mom's, Jane's, Eddie's — you hid it. The book and the truth, hidden in a box under your bed. You didn't know how to react, much less how to disclose this in a way that wouldn't change everything around you. You were a child, after all. Years later, you wondered how different your lives would have been if, instead of eavesdropping on their conversation, you had just told them what had happened. 

Jane Munson died not long after that, and you couldn't stop everything from changing, then. You didn't understand much, just that it was sudden, and fatal, and in the span of less than a year, she was gone. Eddie was distraught, and for weeks after the funeral, he was not the boy you knew and loved. He was a shell of himself, after losing his mother and moving to the trailer park with his uncle, since his father was in jail — something you'd just found out too. It was too much to assimilate, and even at twelve years old, you understood.

He started losing more things in that meantime.

You stared at a blank point that was vaguely at the height of the bottom of your bed as if it hid a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any minute.

Eddie was sitting on the chair of your vanity, going on and on about the new friends he had made at Hawkins Middle School, friends that didn't include you, since you were still at that phase where hanging out with boys, boys that weren't Eddie, gave you nausea. He was starting to feel a little more like himself again, his buzzed hair growing into small curls, his dimples giving a sign of life again as he started to smile more.

Still, though you were relieved, you were nervous. More of Eddie's things were finding their way to you. An action figure, a set of dice, a plastic mug. You did not know how to approach the subject, and it got more and more difficult as time went on. You felt like you were losing your timing, like the opportunity was slipping through your fingers each time you chose to stay quiet.

"You ever thought about what you'll do when you find your soulmate's things?"

Eddie groaned at your sudden interruption. "Really? That's what you're thinking about?"

"It's just that… See, this girl in my class…" Sighing, you give up making sense. "Whatever. Just answer the question."

"I don't know. That shit isn't real." 

You were still getting used to Eddie's slight change in demeanor. He was still the sweet boy you've known, but a little rougher around the edges. Angry at the world for taking away his mother, full of resentment towards his father, confused and scared. Though that anger was never directed at you, you felt some ripples of it, like right now.

“Of course it’s real, we see it all the time.”

Unable to meet his eyes, you hear a scoff coming from his direction. “I don’t know. My parents weren’t soulmates, your parents weren’t either. What are the chances?”

“Don’t say that. There’s always a chance…” Your voice got smaller and smaller, trying to take back what you’d said. It wasn’t the right time, and it wasn’t right for you to force this conversation with the grieving boy in front of you. He didn’t need one more thing to worry about, you told yourself.

“I don’t care. I think I’d just leave them alone.”

Nodding, you moved on to a different subject. It wasn’t the right time.

It would never be.

You thought you had forgotten what he looked like.

Which was impossible, because you saw him everywhere. You saw him in the long haired, rowdy boys you saw up and down Sunset Strip. You saw him in crowds of headbangers with their fists in the air. You saw him in guitar shops, in fantasy novels, in cans of spray paint and black pencils. In tight hugs and loud laughs. In the little kids playing at the park, holding hands and exchanging vows of eternal friendship. In yourself, whenever you look in the mirror.

You wondered if he saw you too. If he looked around at every corner he turned and there you were. A missing limb he could still feel even though it had been gone a long time. Twin ghosts haunting each other.

You couldn't forget even if you wanted to, and you never did, because he was a part of you — and now he was here, in the flesh, as if no time had passed between those five years you were gone. That’s what it felt like to you, at least, although both of you had changed a lot since then. From a distance, you could see Eddie stood taller, had a more confident stance to him. His shoulders were broader, his arms filled his jacket’s sleeves a little bit more. You fought the urge to let out a dreamy sigh, almost forgetting you were on the verge of tears not two minutes before this.

The urgent phone call you were having with Robin had to be cut short when you heard a series of impatient knocks on the door of the staff room. It was Linda, asking you what you were doing there. You mumbled something about needing to make a quick call, but that went through one ear and fell out the other, as Linda was locking your arm with hers and leading you to the front of the small stage where Corroded Coffin dealt with their equipment.

Trying to disguise your trembling, a sinking feeling that took over your whole body, you held tightly onto Linda’s arm, and planted yourself firmly to the ground where you stopped. 

“Boys, boys! I want you to meet someone. This is Joan, everyone’s favorite waitress.”

He was the first one who reacted, while his friends, your old friends, only gawked. Gareth dropped his drumsticks, Jeff had opened his mouth three times before deciding not to say anything — which made you realize he didn’t have his braces anymore — and Grant, ever the expressive one, had both eyebrows raised, giving away all his surprise.

“Joan?”

“Because I’m a runaway, like Joan… Jett.” That wasn’t the first, the second or the hundredth time you had to explain that dumb nickname. Joan was not your real name, it wasn’t even close to it, but Linda was insistent on calling you that. She thought it was funny, a runaway girl from the midwest trying to make her way through Los Angeles, and she’d been calling you that since your first week working there. “Not her most creative moment.”

“It’s so fucking good to see you!” Jeff was the first to break the silence, and then the other boys followed suit, engulfing you in tight hugs, releasing all, or at least most of, the tension inside of you. Giggling softly, you hugged them back.

“It’s good to see you too, guys. It’s been a long time.”

The only people who didn’t join were Linda, who stood confused to the side, and Eddie, who stayed in place, looking paler than he already was, like he would pass out at any moment. You felt the same, but Eddie was the one who always wore his feelings on his sleeve, not you.

“What exactly is this?” Your boss asked, pointing her red stiletto nails at the scene unfolding in front of her. “Where do you know her from?”

“From our hometown.” You explained, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your jeans, trying to make yourself smaller. “We went to the same school.”

“More like the only school in town.” Gareth laughed. “It’s a small town but an even smaller world, I guess.”

“Just wait until you get settled here. Everyone knows everyone, it’s worse than Hawkins.” You scoffed, trying to lighten up the mood. “How long have you been here?”

“Almost a month.” Eddie was the one who answered, finally finding his voice. “We’ve been bouncing from bar to bar until Linda was kind enough to take us in now.”

“You’re welcome, dear. It will be a pleasure to have you here. Now…”

As Linda started to explain some of the basic rules of operations of The Deuce — opening and closing times, where to find everything, introducing them to the other staff members — you and Eddie stayed behind, a thin veil of tension still standing between you, but then, Eddie reached out, an outstretched arm forward, beckoning you with a soft voice, “C’mere.”

And you went, with no hesitation. For a moment, you even felt silly for all that fuss you made moments before, that anxiety that threatened you to burn a hole on the ground and swallow you whole. It was just Eddie, the boy who used to hold your hand whenever you felt this exact same way, all those years ago. Ironic how he was the cause and the cure to all of your problems.

You let him wrap his arms around you, closing the gap that the red thread connecting you was pulling and pulling until you were pressed together again, bodies joined like two pieces of a puzzle. You stayed like that for a full minute, your arms around his narrow waist, his squeezing you to his chest until it hurt, but you didn’t dare let go, and for the first time in a long time, you felt right. You were home again.

“I missed you so much.” You found courage to say something in your hiding place, your head pressed to his chest. His smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne was oddly calming, making you breath in deeply. 

“I missed you too.” Eddie took a small step back, raising one hand to the back of your head, holding you in place. You were pretty sure you had the dumbest lovestruck look in your eyes while you looked at him, but you couldn’t really care at that moment. You could be embarrassed later. “How have you been?”

“I, uh…” 

“Hey, Van Halen!” Linda called out from the other side of the bar, snapping her fingers at you, “you can catch up later. Get your pretty boy ass over here.”

Untangling from each other, you’re both clearly flustered, Eddie’s face a blooming shade of pink. You’re quick to remedy it. “We can talk later, after your show. After I clock out. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sure.” 

He walked away, then, still looking back at you. Both smiling, both feeling the relief of that red string, now much less strained, but no less beaten. Far from healing, but one step closer. At least, that’s how you felt, but you knew that was only the beginning of a long and winding road to the recovery of your friendship. You didn’t dare to think of something more, crushing the seeds of hope that threatened to take root in your heart.

They were just as stubborn as you, though, and settled anyway.

[httpsdana]

Can you write an angst about y/n being jealous of kylian's best girlfriend?

kylian and his best girlfriend's extreme intimacy may have made y/n suspicious, they might get into a fight when she tells kylian that.

You can choose the final part (break up or make up)

The One~Kylian Mbappe

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

my first Kylian imagine took a lot of likes so I thought id write another one cuz why not

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers I write for

Jules -> Kylian's best friend

Was it jealousy? Insecurity? Bitterness?

y/n didn't quite know her feelings towards Kylian and his best friend's, who was a girl, relationship. There was something between them that y/n couldn't quite point out.

She always tried to shake off the feeling she gets when seeing them together, but sometimes it got out of hand. They were best friends since childhood, and she didn't to ruin that because of the stupid feeling in her gut.

y/n could never hate Jules. She was amazing. A literal angel. She was always so sweet with y/n. That made it hard for y/n. How could she hate such an angel?

What made things worse was that y/n and Kylian had a private relationship. He wasn't able to take her out on proper dates, or on events that he was invited to. He was never able to show her off to the world. She was never able to shine on the red carpet next to Kylian. But Jules was.

Jules was Kylian's date to every place he went to. Every party, every ceremony, every event. y/n was always trying to get used to it, but she never could. How could she get used to seeing her boyfriend in the arms of another girl. A girl who she thought was perfect. Blonde hair, blue eyes, long legs, perfect body. She was a perfect girl for people like Kylian. People who have an amazing reputation that they have to maintain. This reputation would be ruined if the world knew who he was really dating.

y/n glanced at Kylian, who was getting ready for an event. He was receiving an award tonight, and she was super proud of him. Except she wouldn't be the one to show that to the world, but Jules

"you look so handsome Ky" she said from her seat, making Kylian smile at her through the mirror

"Merci mon amour" he said with a small smile

He was about to tell her something, when his phone rang. He glanced at it, smiling when he saw Jules' name.

"its Jules. I think she's ready. I have to go pick her up" he let out a sigh. y/n's smile faded at the mention of Jules. She thought she was ready to mention her discomfort in his friendship with Jules

"I think we should talk when you come back" she said in a low voice. Kylian who was sitting at the end of the Ned tying his shoes, looked up at her with a confused look

"everything okay baby?" he asked, sensing her sadness, even if she tried masking it with a smile

"we'll talk when you're back. don't worry. busy enjoy your night. I'm so proud of you Kyky" she wrapped her arms around his neck. He hugged her back burying his head in her neck

"I will mon amour. And thank you for being there for me at every step of my career. I wouldn't have done it without you baby" he said into her neck.

y/n was feeling guilty now for ever doubting Kylian's feelings towards her. So she smiled him and kissed his lips lightly

"go now. Jules must be waiting for you" she said ,with a fake smile. Kylian smiled and pecked her lips a few times before walking out of the room

y/n let out a sigh and flopped down on the bed.

Maybe she was just overthinking everything? Maybe she was just jealous that Jules gets to go out with him and not because she likes him but because she's his best friend?

These thoughts kept running through her head for almost an hour, until she started receiving a lot of notifications from Twitter.

She knew the event must have started, because she followed accounts that posted videos and photos of the guests there. So she opened her phone. And she wish she didn't

She was met with a video of Kylian and Jules exiting the car they arrived in. Kylian got out first and held his hand out for Jules, something he always did for her. Once they were out, they walked to the red carpet where they were supposed the pose and take pictures, hand in hand. Kylian had his arm around her waist, while she leaned closer to him, her hand on his chest, kissing his cheek while whispering something in his ear. Kylian laughed before they posed for a few more pictures and walked inside.

y/n felt her heart in her stomach. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and turned off her phone. She got lost in her own thoughts, which was the worse place for an overthinker like her to be at.

he seems happy with Jules

he never smiled that widely when he was around her

his laugh seemed genuine

does he still love her?

he's known Jules his whole life, he might have fallen for her before but never realized until now

why would he be with a girl he has only known for a few years when he can be with girl he's known since diapers?

y/n didn't realize she was crying until one tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away for other tears to start crawling down her cheeks. She stopped trying to wipe her tears and just laid in bed, crying until she fell asleep before Kylian even came home.

Next Morning

y/n woke up with a headache, while Kylian was laying next to her. She decided to address her opinion about his friendship with Jules, so she woke him up.

"bonjour mon amour. I arrived late last night and didn't want to wake you up" his voice was deep and hoarse, while he rubbed his eyes and sat up

"Kyky I need to ask you something" she said in a low voice

"anything" he said, getting a bit worried about her

"is there...is there like something between you and Jules?" she asked, a bit afraid of his reaction

"w-what do you mean?" he asked, chuckling nervously.

That didn't help in the uneasiness y/n was feeling

"like, do you like her or something? she seems so into you and you guys are close, always going out together and taking pictures and hugging each other. its annoying to see her treat you like her boyfriend when I exist and she knows it" y/n confessed, feeling the weight shift off her shoulders, until she was met with an angry expression from Kylian

"you think I'm cheating on you y/n? for gods sake Jules and I have been best friends since forever and if I wanted to date her I would've done that ages ago before I even met you. why are you jealous of her? jealousy makes relationships toxic y/n" he said in an angry tone

y/n closed her eyes to keep the tears inside, but they fell down her cheeks anyways

"you don't understand Kylian" she whispered, shaking her head and avoiding his eyes

"then make me understand y/n. or else we'll have to break up if you're gonna stay jealous of my best friend" he said, emphasizing the 'best friend'

"she makes me insecure Ky. she gets to go out with you and show you off when you aren't even hers. She makes me doubt myself, making me wonder why you're with me when you could be with someone like her. a model with an amazing personality, body, face, literally everything. she's perfect. something I am not. so if you want to be with her, then its fine. but don't lie to me and tell me you love me when you want her" she breathed out, while Kylian was looking at her with sad eyes, feeling dumb for not seeing and noticing the way she was feeling

"y/n, amour, me and Jules are just friends. I don't want her, I want and have you. If I liked her, trust me, I would be with her. But I want you. I need you y/n. you're everything my life revolves around. I can't breathe when you're not near. I can't wait to see you again when I'm away. you mean so much to me baby and it hurts for me to realize that you don't know that you're the one for me. the only one I need and will ever need in my whole life" he cupped her cheek in his hand, never letting the contact between their eyes break

Tears were still streaming down y/n's face, but this time they were tears of joy. She realized that Kylian actually loves her. not Jules, not anyone, but her. She smiled at him, feeling the relief engluf her.

"I love you Kyky" she mumbled, while Kylian wiped her tears with his thumb

"I love you more mon ange. how about some pancakes to make you feel better?" he suggested, making the smile on y/n's face widen

"that would be great"

[wlfhrdlover]

hello can you do a jenna ortega reader when the reader is a new singer and she admitted that she was in love with wednesday and the actress that portrayed her. Jenna was behind her. with fluff please

THAT'S AMAZING!!!

HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF DATING A SINGER?

Jenna Ortega x singer!fem!reader

summary: you never thought that your longtime celebrity crush would be in the same room as you, neither that she would find out about your crush like that.

WARNINGS! none, just fluffiness and the author being extremely lazy of turning it on a slow burn.

Everything started when you posted a cover on YouTube, a simple cover of one of your favorite songs.

You never thought that it would blow up like it did, in a blink you already had thousands of fans.

Then you decided to write for fun, adding to the fact that you knew how to sing, you made your own career, a lot of producers or even other singers appeared to buy your songs and other things.

But right now? You stared at the paparazzis from your seat, the red carpet of the Golden Globes staring back at you. Your song in one of the best movies of the year were unbelievable.

You couldn't believe it.

You wrote some lines and when you turned, the movie blew up and with your music as the main soundtrack, you blew with it too.

Best Original Song, what the actual fuck.

You took a deep breathe and finally stepped out of the car, smiling and looking around for help so you didn't tripped.

When you reached the Red Carpet you were almost fangirling, being the biggest movie fan was something else right now, every actor and actress that you adored were right in front of you.

You were a pile of nerves right now, your hands slightly shaking but you took deep breathes, you made it. If you're here it's because you owned it! You need to calm down!

— Y/N!- you heard a voice and you turned, an interviewer called you and you walked up to her- Oh my God! You look absolutely gorgeous!- she exclaimed.

— Thank you so much!- you said smiling.

— How are we feeling tonight?- she asked and you laughed.

— Nervous, really nervous, I barely went on Tour and I'm already here! This is really crazy, I grew up watching every Award possible and I'm here today! This is really insane!- you said truthfully and she smiled at you.

— I can imagine it, I mean, one moment you were releasing an album for some people and now your music is getting all the nominations possible, congratulations!- she said and you nodded.

— Thank you so much, it's really a dream coming true- you chuckled.

— Well, you mentioned that you watched a lot of Awards, I'm guessing that you're a movie person?- she asked and you nodded happily.

— Dude, definitely! I'm really freaking out because I'm seeing a lot of people that I absolutely admire and we're at the same place- you laughed nervously- I've always loved watching Movies and Series and everything, I'm just really passionated about it.

— Do you have a favorite actress or actor that you wish to see tonight? Or even better, a celebrity crush?- the woman wiggled her brows and you laughed loudly.

— Oh man, I'm gonna be honest with you, I heard that Jenna Ortega is here tonight and oh my God, she is my favorite actress from all time, I mean, I've been watching her since she was on Stuck in the Middle, I do remember a lot of her jobs and the last one?- you made a sound with your mouth- Wednesday Addams could totally crush me and I would never complain, Jenna is so beautiful and talented, not to be this type of person but I'm so free for her all the time, Jenna is definitely the girl of my dreams.

What you didn't know is that Jenna was standing behind you and smirking like a devil with your words.

— What would you say to Jenna if you saw her tonight?- the woman asked chuckling knowing that Jenna was right behind you.

— One chance Jenna, that's all I ask- you said shyly- I would so invite her to I don't know man, go to a cafeteria, tea shop, I don't know, because I really have no idea of how to treat someone so perfect like her, if she says no I would still be blessed for even breathing the same air as her- you blushed and jumped when felt a hand on your waist.

Your dress had a slightly open part on your waist, so the coldness of the rings through your skin made you shriver.

— Don't worry about the 'no' part, because I would gladly accept it- Jenna fucking Marie Ortega was holding your waist and really close to you.

Your brain melted, you stared at her in somehow a love gaze and she definitely adored it, principally when you bite your own finger with a blush spreading on your face.

— You're so pretty- you blurted out and they laughed, Jenna hugged you tightly and you quickly hugged her back- Holy shit- you muttered with wide eyes when you noticed what was happening.

— Oh please, look at you! Not only your voice but you have such a pretty face- she said and you blushed even more.

— Me? Oh baby, you're the it girl of my dreams- you said.

Jenna never thought that love at first sight was real, but just looking at the way you talked and how your whole face would shine under the light whenever you moved because of your nervousness, did little sparks explode on her heart and brain.

When you two got to hide from the cameras, you were really shy, but Jenna was too. It was awkward for a moment before you two bursted out laughing.

— Oh my God, you heard me being a simp for you- you whispered covering your mouth and she laughed more.

— Don't worry about it, I thought it was really cute and most of the time I think it's creepy- she made a disgusted face and you giggled.

Jenna could hear your giggles all day.

— Sorry, I couldn't help it, you're... well, I didn't lied, you're the girl of my dreams really, there is no other way of being honest with you- you said and your whole body burned in embarrassment.

— Well, is our tea shop date still up?- she asked and you nodded.

— Oh definitely, I can take you anywhere you want- you said and she smiled.

When the ceremony started, you got lucky to sit on Jenna's side, you two talked and definitely judged the whole thing.

You also found out that she would be the one to present your category.

You were so lost staring at her that you didn't noticed when she opened the envelope in her hands.

— And the winner is...- she grinned- Y/N L/N for (song name)!- you widened your eyes.

After the Awards you went to the after party just to see Jenna, you planned on just going back to your hotel room, but Jenna begged you to go so she could talk to you.

— So, you really watched my whole filmography?- Jenna teased you and you blushed but laughed.

— You got me, I just always... I don't know, I really like to see you- you eyed her and she was definitely checking you out, you blushed more and looked around.

You leaned closer to Jenna and your hands touched, she smiled and your fingers almost danced together.

— I lied in that interview- you whispered and looked at her, she hummed.

— About what?- she followed your eyes.

— About what I would ask you if I saw you tonight- you muttered and Jenna leaned closer.

— And what do you want to ask me pretty girl?- she smiled, the few sips of alcohol on both of your systems made the two of you completely forget about the world, it was only you and Jenna right now.

— Have you ever thought of dating a singer?- you whispered and smiled while you moved your hand to gently hold her face.

— I'm willing to give it a chance- she said and your lips brushed against each others and without thinking, you pulled Jenna to a sweet and soft kiss.

NEWS!!

The actress Jenna Ortega and the singer Y/N L/N officially confirmed their relationship after 2 years of fans theorizing about the two together!

Everything started in a interview on the Golden Globes....

tap to read more!

[piratefishmama]

For One Night Only | Part 2

Eddie remembered a lot about Steve Harrington, so to get this fresh new perspective on him… it was wild. He remembered a jock, the king of Hawkins High, the king of Hawkins in general, women wanted him, men wanted to be him, or in some cases men also wanted him. Rich, popular, kind of a jackass at times but never mean enough to warrant dislike. Would have never associated with Eddie’s kind, but yet there he was, comfortable on Eddie’s hotel bed, one long leg crossed over the other as they moved on from pleasantries to business.

Steve wasn’t there as a social call, no matter how fun it might have been to catch up. He had a job to do, and Steve was good at his job.

“Alright, considering our history, or what little of it we have, it might be a good idea to use it if asked on the carpet how we met, I can spin a story about us being secret high school sweethearts who recently reconnected as friends if you want, really big you up to the paps.”

“As lovely as that idea is since high school me would have been thrilled to have been your secret sweetheart” Steve grinned “shut up, I was a nerd with a crush leave me alone” the snigger that followed only made Eddie smile, it wasn’t a hurtful laugh, and Steve’s smile was just to radiant to be mad at. “I said shut up!”

“Shutting up” the smile stayed though as he mimed zipping his lips. Adorable bastard.

“Anyway, as lovely as that idea is, too many people knew us in high school, if the press got word that it was a lie from one of our mutual past acquaintances, eh it’s a hornets nest I don’t wanna poke. Too many what ifs, but we could say that we went to school together, it’s true, we could say that we reconnected recently and… y’know, hit it off…”

“We are hitting it off.” Steve mused, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “I like it, easy, close to the truth, very little room for mistakes. So I’m to be your date, not just a friend joining you for the evening?” That was what the invite had requested but… Steve was clearly amusing himself by making Eddie squirm a little.

“Mmmhm, yep. Steve Harrington, my date, Can time travel just exist already?”

“Haha, why?”

“Teenage me could do with a visit right this second to tell him Steve Harrington is gonna be our date someday.”

Steve covered his mouth as he laughed so sweetly, the picture of perfection as always. His nose scrunching just a little as he laughed. “Were you always this cute, Eddie?”

“Mmhm, once upon a time, I was even cuter, I swear.”

“I’ll believe you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know, thousands wouldn’t, but I’ve always been a sucker for cute brunettes with big ol Bambi eyes, can't help but believe everything they say.” Eddie hadn’t felt his cheeks warm in years and yet there he was, hiding behind his hair, his complexion turning as red as a fire hydrant, stupid pale skin.

Speaking of brunettes, and incredibly convenient subject changes for the safety of his own composure. “Wait, YOU’RE who Nancy knows!”

“You know Nance?”

“She’s our manager now, man, gets us all the best shit! I met her in a bar after she totally blew off the journalism thing, something about sexist work environments and bosses who wouldn’t know a real story if it slapped them directly in the face. They kept giving her fluff pieces.” Nancy Wheeler, a fluff writer, the audacity of anyone who ever made that assumption. “Now she’s the most badass manager in metal history. I swear to god she’s made many a producer pale in fear at the very mention of her name.” She read all the fine print, with a goddamn magnifying glass. She’d made a grown men cry multiple times, it was badass. “She’s the coolest.”

Steve’s smile was so fond Eddie could have swooned just having it aimed at him, even if the fondness wasn’t for him, it was beautiful enough for it to be swooned over anyway. “She is, cool. I’m glad she found her people.” Even if they no doubt made a funny looking group, little not so primp and proper Nancy Wheeler among a bunch of metalheads. It fitted, in a strange kind of way, she’d always wrangled Mike easy enough.

“How did you uhm… y’know… it’s probably none of my business and I keep changing subjects so stop me if I keep jumping around I’m still a little flabbergast from seeing you at my door but uh… how’d you—y’know… what’s this uh… the whole thing like?” Steve tilted his head like a confused puppy and Eddie just kind of wanted to melt into the floor. “The escort thing.” He added on, for clarification.

“Oh, uhm. Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham, cheer captain of ’86?”

“I know her, she and Gareth have this—”

“Thing! Yes, she talks about him regularly with Robin.” Robin? He doesn’t think to ask, Steve and Robin, Robin… who would be associated with Steve a Robin whom Steve would just mention as if expecting him to know. He only knew one Robin from those days, and he didn’t even really know her.

Just kind of… existed near her in band for a few months until his style of music pissed the teacher off enough to kick him out. Couldn’t be that Robin, right? Not important.

“Oh my god don’t tell me that and expect me to keep it a secret that’s brutal of you.”

“God, tell him, please, I didn't even know who he was but she keeps talking about him and waiting for him to ask her out. Eventually she’s just going to pin him against something and kiss him so—”

“Tell her to do that but god wait until I have a camera please!” Eddie Munson was not against begging, his grin wide and eyes shimmering with gleeful mischief. “It’s reciprocated, totally and completely one hundred percent reciprocated, he is so gone on that girl, it’s adorable.”

“I will let her know, at least now I know he's one of yours and a good guy." Gareth was the best guy in Eddie's opinion, like a brother to him, not that the others werent too, but... Gareth had known he was gay since Hawkins High. Just him and Uncle Wayne in the know, and he'd always been there to support him, Gareth was good. "Anyway… we ran into each other in this café that I’d gotten a part time gig at in Indy, she looked good, healthy…” he didn’t need to say that Chrissy had had a problem. But she had, and that problem began with ‘M’ and ended with ‘other,’ hers to be specific. “She was already doing it, loving it, I was dubious, asked if she was okay, if she needed help, but no she was loving it, thriving actually, and well… I like making people feel good, both emotionally and physically” oof that was a tone that went straight to a place it shouldn’t do “why do it for free, y’know? She got me set up and the rest is history.” He enjoyed himself.

He loved his job, his love language had always been acts of service, he liked making people feel good, liked making them feel wanted, feel loved, feel seen and heard. Eddie couldn’t help himself “ever do anything… y’know…?” He really wished he could help himself sometimes.

“Sex related?” The red in his cheeks only deepened, Steve didn’t seem offended, or upset, in fact his smile only warmed, eyes crinkling at the corners, gods above and below he was beautiful, how did anyone survive after a night with him, having to let him go? “Sure, like I said, if I’m good at something, why do it for free?”

“Even with…” Eddie motioned to himself

“You?”

“N-No! No, Men—wait sorry—that’s—that’s none of my business” he turned away to move, to pace, so much energy in his body suddenly there with nowhere to go “none of this is any of my business, I don’t usually ask these kinds of—I mean it’s really wrong of me to even ask this sort of—" Steve was just there so fast, hands on Eddie’s biceps, holding him in place, Eddie hoped he couldn’t feel him almost vibrating out of his skin.

“It’s okay, Bambi” Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, his wide and unblinking, like a deer in headlights in the face of Steve’s so warm and understanding, Bambi really did suit him, Steve thought, his left hand lifting to rest on Eddie’s cheek as if to ground him, it worked. God it worked. “Ask all the questions you like, but maybe save some for later, we don’t have long before we have to go.”

“…Later you’ll be leaving though...” he didn’t want Steve to leave. He didn’t want his next time seeing Steve to be part of a lottery, would he come next time? Would someone else who Eddie didn’t recognise appear in his place?

“We’re hitting it off, remember? I’m sure there’s going to be an afterparty we can both be caught sneaking away from to hang out, right?” Eddie kind of felt like he was flying. He felt like a teenager again, a nerdy, virginial teenager. He refused to acknowledge that little goblin voice telling him that Steve was actually probably just doing his goddamn job, he was on the clock dammit. He just wanted to have this. “You can ask me questions then, I promise I’ll stay.” He didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be.

“…Yeah… if that’s okay with you.”

“More than. Now how about you introduce me to the rest of Corroded Coffin, we all need to be on the same page before we get there.” Work now, catch up later. “Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can ditch the after party to hang out.” Eddie giggled, an honest to gods little giggle. He really did feel like a teenager again, only Steve was looking at him. Holding him. Grounding him. Steve Harrington was seeing him.

Teenager Eddie would have shit a brick.

“Alright, I’m warning you though, I think you let Tommy H. stuff Jeff into a locker once so don’t expect a warm welcome.” Steve grimaced a little but nodded. He was a different person now, but that wouldn’t erase the mistakes he’d made as a stupid teenager. Plenty of bridges to rebuild and apologies to give. Jeff wouldn’t be the first or the last.

“Bring it on, Bambi.” Eddie could only hide behind his hair again, bashful and flustered.

Part 4