#reader of this post consider yourself tagged xoxo

[imisskeek]

loml honey @honeyedlashton tagged me to pick an artist and answer these questions with their song titles! ty honey i adore you :’) <3

i picked muna!

1. what is your gender? “kind of girl” 💓

2. describe yourself: “number one fan” ⭐️

3. how do you feel? “what i want” 🥊

4. if you could go anywhere, where would it be? “i know a place” 🥰

5. who is/describe your best friend? “no idea” 💥

6. favorite time of day? “handle me” 📝

7. if your life was a tv show, what would it be called? “shooting star” ⭐️

8. what is life to you? “anything but me” 🤝

9. what do you fear? “it’s gonna be okay, baby” 💭

10. relationship status? “silk chiffon” 🌸

[parfaitblogs]

you're losing me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which he's an entirely different person after prison, and your relationship is crumbling. 

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. no happy ending. argument/fight. strong language. word count: 2.0k a/n: big fan of soul crushing angst. clearly. i dreamt this one up in an everything shower. likely place for me to plan fics? whole lot of nothing happening i love yapping about sadness!! my least favourite spencer trait is that he doesn't think he deserves good things so he pushes them away so obviously i have to write novellas on him doing just that? this used to be based on tolerate it but i listened to ylm the entire time so erm. things change! lol enjoy xoxo

Perhaps you were stupid. 

Very, very stupid. And ridiculous. And every other synonym for those two words that your brain could not possibly imagine up right now. You were all of them. But also none of them. Because you also felt like there was not a single word that could describe you anymore; if there was, maybe you'd consider yourself a person. But clearly you weren't a person. Not anymore, at least. Not to him. 

An awfully painful year it had been. And maybe that's what stripped you of your right to be a person. Maybe it was the overtime. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was everything all at once. Maybe it was nothing at all. 

Three years of dating one man meant you learned quite a bit about who he is as a person to you. Eight years of knowing him meant you knew very well what sort of person he is in general. 

And this wasn't him. 

He was sitting on your couch. A piece of furniture that had, in just one year, erased the memory of you from it, there no longer being an indent on the right side where you always sat. A book was sat in his lap, but he wasn't properly reading it. You could tell from how slowly he turned the pages. From how he stopped every few minutes to rub his eyes, his eyebrows creasing and a quiet, irritated huff leaving his lips. 

It was a habit he had developed. 

This was how it was every night. Three o'clock came, and your body would wake you up from an otherwise restless sleep, and you would drag your feet out to where the man who should be occupying the other side of your bed, actually is. And he wouldn't look up, but you both acknowledged each other's presence, silently. 

And you would watch him for an hour. Until your eyes began to droop, and your feet started to ache, and your heart couldn't handle any more shattering for the night. And then you would drag yourself back to the bedroom, and you would climb into a now cold bed, and you would fall back asleep for another two hours. 

Like clockwork.

You were good with him. So patient. You would make him mugs of morning coffee that he wouldn't drink, and you would wash clothes he wouldn't say 'thank you' for. You wondered if he was actually grateful or not. 

You were too scared to ask. 

"Hey," you said, quietly, when he had come home from work, shrugging his bag off his shoulders, and slipping shoes off his feet. 

"Hi," he answered. As if on instinct, he moved to where you were seated at the barstool to kiss you in greeting, before brushing past and heading into the kitchen. 

You watched him for a few moments as he found a piece of bread to eat, nothing on it. Just... dry. Before your eyes returned to the laptop screen you had open in front of you, fingers tapping away at your keyboard. 

"There's been another terror threat," you said to him, tilting your head to the side. "But they let me work from home."

"Why'd they do that?" he asked, but he could not sound less interested. 

You lifted your head, because you thought he knew. "Because of you, Spence."

"Oh, okay," he answered, and you watched as he threw out half of the bread he did not eat, before he disappeared down the hallway. 

He didn't even care. 

You stared at the empty space down the hall, where he had once been, heart lodged in your throat in an uncomfortable lump you couldn't swallow. This was why you felt stupid. 

Maybe you were sick of feeling stupid. You must be, because subconsciously, your feet had already planted themselves firmly on the floor, and your legs were already taking you down the hall in the exact direction he had just disappeared to. 

He was taking his button up off when you appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, replacing it with a t-shirt. You had never seen him wear so many t-shirts until now. 

You cleared your throat, alerting him of your presence, and he turned, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw you. 

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you said, voice wavering with cautiousness. 

His lips parted, then they closed, and all he managed was a short nod, before he turned back around to find pyjama pants in his drawers. 

"Spencer, I'm serious," you pressed, taking a step into the room. "You need to talk to someone about this."

"I have those counseling sessions at work," he answered, turning back around to face you only once he was wearing pants. 

Your lips pursed. "You hate those."

"Yes, but I'm talking to someone."

"Not someone you trust!"

"And if I talk to you, it would be so different compared to a counsellor, right?"

You froze. He froze. Maybe he realised the implication of his words, you certainly did. That such a simple spoken sentence had your heart stuttering in your chest. 

You shakily exhaled. "I'd hope it would be different," you decided to say. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't anymore."

He stood straighter at your comment. Perhaps not the best thing to say. Certainly not the most mature. 

"What does that mean?"

Right. The reason you decided to follow him in the first place. "I just—I don't feel like you care anymore. And I have tried to be patient, Spencer. I really have. But you shut me out, and we don't even talk anymore. I make you coffee, I do your laundry, I offer to cook, I clean up the house, I do everything I possibly can so you can focus on healing, and I can't even get a proper sentence out of you unless we're arguing."

He inhaled sharply, staring at you. "I don't know if you forgot, but I was locked in a prison for three and a half months."

Your shoulders deflated, your eyebrows creasing and lips pulling down into a frown. "Seriously? I express that I am feeling neglected, and your only response is that you've been in prison—"

"—Well, it kind of changed who I am!"

You fell silent for a few moments, trying to collect your thoughts before you threw them all in his face and actually ruined things between you two. 

"I just feel like you don't care anymore," you repeated, voice awfully soft compared to how hard your body was shaking in anxiety. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and he opened his mouth to speak with that same frustrated frown, so you cut him off. 

"And yes, I know you're dealing with everything that happened to you in prison. I only know what they told us, so I can't even imagine how much you're withholding. Because I know that's what you do. But that doesn't give you an excuse to treat me like I'm not important in your life anymore. I mean, If I'm not, then tell me. If you really don't care, or you've decided that you can't be in a relationship and process everything at the same time, then I'd like to know."

The silence is uncomfortable. And thick. And you're staring at him with eyes that burned with tears you weren't ready to shed yet. He's coming up with a response, so slowly you think maybe prison actually did break his brain. 

"I do care," he finally said, and you wondered if it took him three minutes to come up with that because he was controlling a lie. You pushed that thought out of your head. "But I also don't want you to wait for me to be better, if it's making you feel this way."

Oh.

"Okay," you manage to say, voice not above a whisper as you stared at him. 

"Okay," he echoed, and the tears you were trying so hard to keep in brimmed your waterline, blurring your vision. If he hadn't become one big blob in your vision because of them, you might've seen his eyes soften and his shoulders deflate. 

Maybe he was waiting for you to confront him about it all. So he could end things. Maybe he's been thinking about this for too long, and this was just the final push he needed. You'd like to hope it was a spur of the moment decision, and he wasn't banking on this relationship ending. 

"I'll stay at a friend's," you then murmured, wiping the tears from your eyes, sniffling pathetically. 

"No, this is—"

"—You deserve familiar walls," you cut him off. "I'm sure anything else would freak you out."

He fell silent, because you were right. But he didn't want to kick you out of your own home. He didn't want to kick you out of his life, a sickening revelation he was having all too late.

Maybe that was why, when you turned around to leave, he called your name. Pleadingly. So, you turned back, and he stared at you, and silence fell over you two again. 

"What?" you breathed out after a few too many minutes of quiet. 

"I don't know how to talk to you. Or anyone. Not—not just you."

"About what happened?"

"In general."

You stilled, confusion sweeping across your features, for the thousandth time tonight alone. "You don't have to talk to me, if you can't. Regularly, I mean. That's not... that's not what I'm asking of you. I just need you to communicate with me. I feel like you don't even have feelings for me anymore. That's where most of my issues lie."

"I do have feelings for you."

"It doesn't feel that way."

More silence. More thick, deafening silence that felt like you had submerged your head underwater. And you really just wanted to come to a final conclusion. If this was the end.

"Then is it just that you don't want to be with me anymore? If it is, please tell me," you said, voice pathetically desperate.

He stared at you some more. Silence accompanying him, like some (annoyingly) comforting best friend amidst this conversation. And you slowly nodded your head as what he wanted became clear to you, your heart stuttering uncomfortably in your chest. Your stomach flipping. 

"Indecision doesn't look good on you," you finally cut through the blanket of quiet. "I need a verbal answer, Spencer."

"I do want to be with you—"

"—Then fight, dammit!" you finally snapped, the tears you had managed to control coming back to you, a sob lodging in your throat. "I am sick of you saying you do feel this, and you don't feel that. Make a fucking decision. Please. I cannot keep up a fight for the both of us anymore. You're losing me here, Spencer."

"I'm scared!" he shouted, and you took a step back, his voice vibrating throughout the room. He waged an internal battle for a few moments at your recoil. "That. That right there is what I'm scared of. I am so scared of scaring you."

"You scare me more when you shut down. I will take your anger over your silence."

"I won't," he snapped, watching you flinch. Again. You wanted to stop flinching. 

"It proves to me that you're actually feeling things. Spencer, I feel like I've been living with a ghost."

"I can't control my anger anymore," he added your name with a voice crack, mirroring your heart.

You blink some more tears down your cheeks. "You don't have to. You are allowed to be angry."

"Not around you," he shook his head, his hands brushing curls out of his face. "What if I—I hurt you."

"What if you don't?"

It seemed he hadn't considered that possibility, because he fell silent, and averted his gaze to the ground. He shook his head after a beat. "I can't take that risk."

You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing up your options, before you sighed. "Fine. Don't." He said your name again. "No. If you're not willing to fight, then... then fine. Don't fight. But neither will I."

He didn't say anything as you took a step back from the room. And even as you stilled for a few seconds longer, achingly but silently begging him to ask you to stay, he didn't utter a word. Which was, really, all you needed in confirmation. 

And so you left.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[pictureinme]

kinktober day xxii. VOYEURISM – edward 'riddler' nashton

idea from my lovely bf xoxo @standloser word count: ~1.2k tags: both pervy eddie & reader, male masturbation, teasing, somewhat exhibitionism, and they were co-workers masterlist | ao3

Edward’s breath catches at the sight of your bare shoulders– watching from beyond the crack of the locker room’s door. You had just finished your weekly visit to your office building’s gym– a place Edward didn’t even know existed until he decided he wanted to ‘accompany’ you on your way out of work.

You tended to be alone in your late-night excursions here, and that’s what you preferred– time to decompress after getting chewed out by your shared dimwit boss. You and Edward had adjoining desks on the same level at KTMJ, working the numbers of Gotham. The two of you had never actually exchanged words, but you always remembered his coffee order when it was your turn to pick it up– that was more than enough to get him hooked.

His eyes would always dart over your desk, taking in all of the knick-knacks and post-its that cluttered the space– Edward would smile to himself at how easy it was to figure out what you’re like, all while you were none the wiser. All your little intricacies were on full display for him, and, well, you were never the most careful about locking your computer when you left your station. There’s a plethora of secrets that would, more often than not, be considered not safe for work in that drive of yours.

All this to say: Edward felt a certain sense of possessiveness over you, and that baseline primal urge was not something he could resist. That’s how he finds himself ogling at your form, hidden by the darkness of the hallway outside the changing rooms. He hasn’t unzipped his slacks just yet, no– you hadn’t even taken off your sports bra yet.

You weren’t as unobservant as Edward pegged you to be– you were more than aware of his borderline obsession with you. Every time you left your desk to go to the bathroom, you purposefully left your computer available for his perusing– leaving your rather unsavory browser history uncleared. Maybe you didn’t actually browse porn at work, but you liked to leave little breadcrumbs for him– you knew that he couldn’t help but imagine you in such predicaments that you’d search.

Edward needed just a bit of a push in the right direction, so you made sure he knew where you were headed after work so often. 

You knew he was watching your every move, so you decided to give him as much of a show as you could. Agonizingly slow, you peel your bra off your damp body. Edward couldn’t see your breasts from this angle yet, but he still had to stifle a moan at your delicate movements.

He bit his lip as you bent over– the way your leggings fit your curves perfectly was almost too much. Edward felt his cock twitch at the immediate thought he had of grabbing your hips, pulling you back onto his hardness over and over– grinding against your clothed behind until he came all over the taut fabric.

You pulled the leggings down slowly, and he quietly whined as he saw your panties. At this point, Edward knew he was close without even having to touch himself.

Acting as if you didn’t hear the pathetic noise from just beyond the cracked door, you stand up straight and turn to face the floor-length mirror before you. Edward swiftly pulled out his cock from the confines of his now too-tight work pants as soon as he finally saw your bare breasts on display. He watches through lidded eyes as you trace the curves of your body, idly wondering if you checked yourself out like this often– did you touch yourself in front of a mirror as well?

Seating yourself on the bench, your closed legs still hide your arousal– if you showed him, would he notice how wet you were from all of this? How badly you wanted him to take you right then, lack of pleasantries exchanged aside?

You could see that familiar glint of his glasses in the dark, and you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. He stares at your perfect thighs, just waiting for the moment when you’d tear them open– he knows it’s greedy, but he needs to see all of you. You can hear that obvious, yet quiet, sound of Edward pleasuring himself, and you hold back a smirk as you open your legs.

He whimpers, stuttering in his ministrations, as he sees what he believes to be a patch of wetness on your grey panties– were you wet? How fucking lucky did he get? Edward’s mouth hangs open as his wrist feels as though it may cramp from just how fast he’s going. Peering down at himself for a moment, he sees that familiar bead of precum and makes no hesitation to spread it over his reddened tip– only making him closer to that depraved orgasm he so needed.

Edward watches as you move your hands down your legs, seeming like you may be about to pull your work pants back on– he couldn’t waste this opportunity so lovingly presented to him. The sounds increase, both from his movements and his voice, and you betray yourself– you catch that glint in the dark through the reflection.

It was only for a split second, and Edward knew there was definitely no way you could see him, but despite it all– he spilled all over his hand, as well as the tiled floor. His breath, harsh and ragged, would’ve made his presence more than obvious to you, had you not known already– Edward wasn’t as covert as he’d like to think.

As he hears your shuffling in the locker room, he zips himself back up and quickly grabs a crumpled tissue from his jacket pocket– wiping the evidence from his hands. Glancing down, he sees the rest of it on the floor but ultimately decides to just wipe it away with his shoes. Edward leans against the wall, chest still heaving with every breath.

“Oh, hey, Edward!” You stepped out of the locker room, your sudden presence causing him to stand up straight. “I didn’t know you went to the office gym!”

He stutters, wiping his sweaty palms on his jacket, “I, well… yes? I do now, yes…”

You smile politely, the satisfaction of seeing him so frazzled was more than enough, “That’s great, I thought I was the only one using it!”

“Mhm…” Edward looked as if he’d seen a ghost, but he couldn’t deny the tightness slowly returning in his slacks, “It’s, uh… extremely underutilized, yes.”

“You must’ve had a good workout, huh? You’re all sweaty!” You begin to walk past him, swinging your work bag over your shoulder. “Sucks that they don’t provide us with showers too, right?”

He continues to try and stutter out a response as you make your way to the stairwell, but all he can muster out is a pathetic ‘yup,’ long after you have left.

[blainesebastian]

intertwined

words: 1,305 ship: austin butler x reader summary: @prompted-wordsmith requested: “ Austin getting the reader matching jewelry” warnings: none notes: thanks for reading! will be posting another update when i’m back from miami, around tuesday or wednesday xoxo  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

A few things you’ve noticed about yourself and about Austin since you’ve begun dating him is that, for one, he talks a lot with his hands. Whether it’s during an interview or if he’s excited or animated about something, he’ll move his hands when he speaks. It’s cute really and he’s got these long piano fingers that are definitely something to think about—running through your hair, brushing against your cheek, the way his thumb caresses your knuckles. Something else you’ve realized too is that he wears rings on fingers. Sometimes only one or two per hand, delicate gold for the most part, rarely silver. When he’s doing award shows or events, businesses will pay him to model and advertise, but even when he’s just out and about with you on a lazy Sunday, there will be a ring on one of his fingers.

You’re a fan for sure, sometimes can’t stop yourself from thinking about that cool metal grazing the skin of your shoulders or slipping lower, pressing against the heat of the inside of your thighs.

Something you didn’t notice you were a fan of until Austin unintentionally planted these ideas into the back of your mind. Now you kind of take note of whenever he’s wearing jewelry—especially rings.

Austin’s obviously a beautiful man, so wearing small accent pieces is actually just one more thing you can check off a list of what attracts you to him. Sometimes he wears this thin gold chain around his neck that your fingers play with in the shower and he rarely does bracelets but when he does it usually highlights the suit he’s wearing for whatever event he’s attending. It’s the rings though that really draw your attention—not only does it highlight his hands and long fingers? But it’s also easy for you to begin imagining what it’d be like for him to wear a ring on a certain finger to indicate that he’s yours, completely.

You’ve been with Austin a few years now and…you know it’s not completely out of the realm of things to start considering marriage, even with how busy both of you are. You blame this thought process on the fact that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about the accessories he wears and how effortlessly good he looks in them. Who can really blame you, right?

Music pulses through speakers at an after-event party you’re both at, sitting on Austin’s lap on a patio couch overlooking a pool that some people are swimming in. There are rounds of people that stop to talk to you both, mostly just quickly catching up before moving on, which is fine with you—more time spent with Austin without interruption is for sure a gift given how busy both of you are.

However, you’re definitely not complaining when Michael B Jordan stops by to say his hellos because wow that man is beautiful in person. Austin’s arm tightens around your waist and you smile as you glance down at him.

“No need to be jealous,” You tease, “I’m all yours.”

Austin rolls his eyes but he’s smiling as he squeezes your hip, “M’not concerned.”

You laugh, your hand slipping down to his, running your thumb over the ring he’s wearing. It used to be a nervous habit of yours, to trace your fingers along a piece of jewelry, to ground yourself in the moment with Austin. Sometimes people forget that a lot of this is still very new to you, wading into the water of his world, trying to figure out where best you fit. There are sometimes overwhelming moments where you worry you won’t, even after all this time, where you worry Austin will realize it’ll be easier with someone who already knows how to navigate where he’s from and where he’s going.

Austin keens his chin down a little, brushing his lips along your temple as his other hand rests on top of yours, “You do that a lot.” He notices, the playing with his rings thing.

Smiling, you let out a soft laugh, “Yeah, I like when you wear jewelry.” And it’s not completely a lie? Not quite the truth either.

Austin presses a kiss to the side of your head before he slides off his ring, lazily slipping it on one of yours. Your smirk, twisting it around your finger and lifting your hand but…the band is far too big for one of your fingers, it slides right off. This is one of your favorite that he wears, it’s this twisted silver band, kinda looks like a braid, an infinity design because it weaves around the entire thing.

“This kinda reminds me of us coming together, you know? Two lines intertwined.” You smile, putting the ring back on his finger.

God, you realize how corny that sounds coming out of your mouth. You expect Austin to tease you with a playful joke, but instead, he hooks a finger underneath your chin and turns your head to kiss you.

--

Running a hand through your hair, you wait for Austin outside of a small diner where you’re going to meet for lunch. They’re supposed to have an all-day breakfast menu and you’re definitely interested in pancakes and French fries…plus maybe a milkshake because that feels impossible to pass up.

He’s only running five minutes late but you know how possible that might turn into ten, he’s been busy ironing out events with his agent and wrapping up a filming process. It’s a beautiful day out, so you don’t mind, lingering by the diner on a bench and reading a book.

“Y/N,” You look up as Austin approaches, letting out a soft sigh, “So sorry I’m late, traffic was busier than I expected.”

“That’s alright,” You smile, sliding your book into your tote before standing from the bench, “You had another five minutes before my stomach would be insisting on me starting without you.”

He smirks a bit at the joke, running a hand through his hair, “I also was in the middle of pickin’ something up for you.”

Your eyebrows draw together in soft confusion, getting ready to ask him what he’s talking about before he takes out a small rose-colored velvet pouch from his jeans pocket. You’re trying to put two and two together but not coming up with any number resembling four—it’s not your birthday, you don’t have some sort of anniversary coming up…right? And Austin must see the wheels turning in your head before he shakes his own,

“Just because.” He clarifies and you chew on your lower lip, that’s definitely thoughtful.

No matter how many times Austin spoils you? you can’t stop this pink blush from kissing your cheeks. Difficult to get used to but you’re trying. Humming lightly, you open up the small pouch and dump out what’s inside in the palm of your hand.

A small gasp leaves your lips because—it’s a ring, but not just any ring, it’s the same one that Austin wears but in your size. The intertwined silver in a smaller band, perfect for your pointer finger. You know it’s kind of ridiculous to have such an emotional reaction but you can’t help it, a lump in your throat as you slide the ring onto your finger.

Austin smiles, lifting his hand to clasp your palm—the same hand that has the matching ring, his fingers brushing along yours. This is one of the most thoughtful gifts you’ve ever gotten,

“Thank you,” You smile up at him, pressing yourself up on your toes to kiss his cheek.

Austin wraps an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as you move to walk into the diner and you move your hand to entwine both of your fingers together. Not that you weren’t feeling connected before? But especially now.

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

"i worry for you."

↖ navigation: ateez masterlist || main masterlist 

pairing: mafia! seonghwa x bodyguard/ assistant! gn reader

↬ tags: MATZ being mafia leaders, reader using work as a coping mechanism, mentions of hongjoong once or twice (i'm not really keeping track), not much references of killing/ mafia activities (i think i kept it quite pg!!)

summary: unhealthy coping mechanisms aside, seonghwa wishes you would confide in him first [heads up! seonghwa's thoughts in bold, readers thoughts in italics]

word count: 1,2k words

a/n: this is the most i've ever written in one go (it seems to me my speciality is writing under 1k words because less words = more attention given imo),, i was considering to make this a two part post, but ultimately decided against it // the evil part of me wants to involve hongjoong and make it a love triangle--should i do it?

a/n: (31/1/24) maybe this wasn't as well-accepted i thought it would be...i guess i'll stick to my usual fluffy fics ! to those who supported this thank you xoxo! i actually have written a part 2 separately in tangent with this fic and who knows maybe i'll post it another day

background:

MATZ is an infamous mafia organization run by good friends seonghwa and hongjoong. seonghwa, the brains of the duo is stoic and serious, yet readily supports behind the scenes with logistical planning and meetings. whereas hongjoong, the brawns of the duo is the person at the forefront of many projects, resorting to force when forceful diplomacy doesn't work.

you were someone they found by chance in a dingy alleyway, a tenacious person struggling to make ends meet. under their care, you've been trained as a bodyguard to protect the both of them.

with the many years of excellent service provided them, you were recognized as a highly treasured employee and have been assisting them in many various way, to the extend the two of them trust you with many organizational secrets.

[again, seonghwa's thoughts in bold, readers thoughts in italics!!]

"i see that you have completed my assignment well."

seonghwa spins around in his chair to face you. his gaze lingers on you and you lowered your head, greeting him. this office was a place you frequented to receive your duties, and this one wasn't any different.

your mind drifted to your next agenda, mentally ticking off the various to-do's for the duo. you had just come back from a week long commission and you were to "strung up" to really want to take an off day. you're good, surely, to jump into the next one

seonghwa clears his throat and you replied, a tad bit flustered that you were daydreaming.

"of course. you can trust me."

he gave a curt nod in response, before pushing a manila envelope across his desk towards you. seonghwa watched as you took a step closer to him. reaching out, you swiftly picked up the package, weighing it in your hands. opening the envelope, you sifted through the papers, eyes scanning the documents briefly before slotting them back.

he gave you a moment to set it aside, then spoke levelly, "this is your next assignment." you tucked the package under your arm and bowed, "i understand. i will get right to it." you quickly headed for the door but seonghwa immediately calls out your name, causing you to halt in your steps.

"is there anything i can do for you?" you queried, turning back around to look at him. seonghwa paused, his words full of gentleness as he asked, "have you been okay? truthfully, please, tell me."

he heard the most recent commission was grueling (he had eyes and ears everywhere, even on you), and every time you came back to report something, security had found you crouched outside his door, hyperventilating. that broke his heart, knowing that he had to hear this from an outsider instead of personally from you; even worse that you put up such a front before him, he couldn't get through that wall.

you froze on the spot, taken aback by his question. sincerity coated his words and you find yourself faltering, the carefully pieced together front crumbling.

"i-i'm fine." you held onto the envelope tighter, willing him to just drop the conversation altogether and let you leave. leave and burrow yourself into the next assignment, bottling up everything at the back of your mind.

"i worry for you. i know that you're really excellent at what you do, but these days all i've seen is this...invisible weight you're...carrying around with you." seonghwa stands to his feet and walks towards you.

he's holding back from swooping you into his arms: as a powerful mafia, he should be able to do that, but when it came to you, all coherent thoughts went out the window.

you internally cursed at how you've been read like an open book by him. "there's nothing you need to worry about." you mumbled, reassuring yourself more than him. seonghwa reaches out for you, and you let him hold your forearm.

out of compassion or pity, you didn't know.

his expression softens at your acceptance, "it is my responsibility to care for those working with me, physically and mentally. you, especially. you're not alone, you know that right?"

for some reason, his words rooted deep in your heart and you felt your heart split into two, holding back unshed tears.

you haven't been completely honest with him, yet you somehow have the feeling he knows too. you continue to hang your head, hoping that he hadn't notice the tears forming rapidly.

seonghwa seemed to notice this and he exhales, pulling you into his embrace. you didn't have time to protest against his actions as he holds you close to him, arms wrapped protectively around you.

you were instantly transported back in time to when you were hanging on to any semblance of hope by a thread--a measly fighter in the streets--when seonghwa and hongjoong approached you and offered this job in return.

seonghwa's body is so close to yours that he can hear your erratic heartbeat and hidden sobs. you felt his lips next to your ear, his voice so low that it is barely audible.

"you're safe now. let your tears out if you need to." seonghwa soothes you, his hands stroking your back as if placating a child. you trembled in his arms, more tears escaping you inevitably. you didn't trust yourself to say anything, so you clung on to him tighter, overwhelmed by all the things you've tried to shoulder alone.

seonghwa rubs your back to ease your mind. he whispers and his voice is comforting, "it is okay to cry. i'm here."

and so you did--much like a baby. after a while, when all of the tears left you rather tired, you pulled away from his embrace.

you instantly missed the sound of his heartbeat right next your ear.

he wipes the stray tears with his thumb and you felt a wave of embarrassment flood you.

"i'm sorry for that. i should have..."

"there's nothing to apologize for. if anything, i should have noticed when you started taking commission after commission without any breaks. i should have realized something was bothering you." seonghwa shoots you a wry smile, apology written in his dark eyes.

wordlessly, seonghwa leads you to the lounge sofa away from his desk and sits you down, grabbing his quilt nearby and draped it over your shoulders. he knelt beside you, eyes never breaking contact. despite his cold front, his warmth says otherwise and that never fails to surprise you.

as he stood up, he felt you gingerly grasp onto his wrist, preventing him from walking away. your eyes were pleading him to stay, full of raw vulnerability; he almost wished he had got you to confide in him earlier.

"i'm just going to grab some water for you. i'll be back." seonghwa tucks the quilt tighter around you and tenderly pushes you back to rest on his sofa. he strides quickly out of the room and you slowly shut your eyes.

you knew he was a meticulous person, but seeing him being this soft-spoken unlike his usual stoic self felt like another barrier between you two has dissolved.

you felt like...now you could afford to be vulnerable. in front of him, at least.

suddenly, the room dimmed down considerably. you could tell by the sound of seonghwa's voice and his footsteps that he's returned. your eyelids fluttered open just as he was brushing your hair out of your face.

"have some." you took the cup from him, drinking a few gulps. his eyes never wavered as he placed the cup down, sitting beside you. you struggled to formulate an excuse to leave, but he interrupts your actions with a promise, "whatever you have in your heart, we can talk about that later. no one should have to endure so much pressure on their own."

seonghwa lets his sentence sink in, and when you squeezed his hand, he got all the confirmation he needed. he adjusts himself so that you could lay your head in his lap and instantly, exhaustion hit you. you started to fall asleep, your mind shutting off and your body relaxing completely in his presence.

the world was quiet now.

"rest. i'm here."

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[freesia-writes]

❌️😬🤲🎉🥰🤭 for the writing ask game

You just took a handful of them and scattered them across my inbox, eh?! hahaha, I LOVE IT. Let's go!

❌ What's a trope you will never write? Hmm. I'm feeling quite narrow-minded, as I consider this, because my years in photography has taught me that finding your niche and doing it REALLY well, instead of spreading yourself thin, tends to be better for everyone involved. So while I've recently branched out into smut over on @spicy-clones, I think I'll probably linger in the realm of first love, yearning, confessing feelings, and all the tingles of those sweet early stages of a relationship.

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon? LOL. Geez. Sharp Edges for sure. And any of my smut, really. Mostly because it is so... unexpected... considering the rest of my interests and personality? khakhakhaa

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip? Before he answered, he bent down and suddenly scooped you into his arms, walking to the edge where the waist-high rock wall curved around the rooftop. He set you down on it, still holding you close against him, nestled between your legs with firm, safe arms around you. You were a smidge taller than him now, and couldn’t stop cradling his face. He felt like the only constant in a tumultuously shifting galaxy, and his proximity and scent and cool demeanor soothed your spirit. 

“It’s all over, I guess,” he said quietly, and your heart lurched with a cold stab of fear for a moment.

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success? Ahh, you're getting to all the roots of my motives, eh? ;) Okay. So honestly, my full-length Howzer fic is my favorite, and I'd consider it a success, cause it was just so fun and I'm proud of it, I'll admit it. But it's not gotten nearly as much attention as the smutty stuff or x reader stuff or whatnot. And I have to admit... attention is super motivating as a writer. Apparently I will eagerly whore out my efforts in exchange for excited readers and interaction where they're suggesting next steps or scenes they'd like to see. ;)

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics? I'd be surprised if anyone answered this differently (please tag me so I can be humbled, LOL) but it's the best! All the questions are always welcome!

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works? #crosshair is an ass LOLLOLOLOL

xoxo

[writing-wh0re]

HOLY MOLY! 

It’s happened, I have hit 1,000 followers! When I joined back in February I did not expect to even make it to 100 followers, let alone 1000. This is incredible, I love you all so much and cannot thank you enough. I’m so glad you all enjoy what I create, I enjoy writing for all of you ❤️

  So with that being said, I have come up with a little writing challenge for you all  ❤️  Rules:

✏️ You don’t have to be following me to participate in this challenge, however it would be amazing to see what my wonderful followers can produce! ❤️ Otherwise a reblog of this post would be very appriciated!

✏️ Must be a reader-insert, considering this is what my blog consists of. 

✏️ Can be any of these characters that I write for: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Draco Malfoy. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Spiderman - Peter Parker, Loki Laufeyson. Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Tom Hiddleston.  Billy Hargrove. MGK (Colson Baker). Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester. 

✏️ Blurbs, One-shots, Imagines and Series are accepted. If you do write a series please create a masterlist or include previous chapter links. 

✏️ Smut is prefectly okay, however please ensure you include warnings on the chapter and a ‘read more’ insert. (Over 18′s only, please ensure your characters are of age as well.) 

✏️ Any other genre is fully accepted, this is time for you to let loose and explore different ideas / concepts! Include any and all warnings at the begining of your fic!

✏️ This should go without saying but no PEDOPHILA, R*PE, RACISM OR INCEST ALLOWED. (You will be blocked if this occurs.) 

✏️ Choose one prompt from the list and send me an ask (Ask box only and off anon please) of which one you have chosen and the character you’ll be writing it for. Only one person per prompt - first in, first served. 

✏️ A crossed out prompt means it has been taken - once a prompt has been written the author will be creditied beside it. 

✏️ If the word prompts don’t excite you, I have also listed a few different AU concepts / Tropes and have provided different songs (with links) for you to write about. Same rules apply - one person per idea. 

✏️ No minimum word count however anything over 500 words please insert a ‘keep reading’ break. (Ctrl - Shift - K on windows computers)

✏️ Not mandatory but just to make it easier for me please bold the prompt you use within your story! Please also list which AU / Trope / Song you choose. 

✏️ Hashtag your writing with #writing-wh0re-requests1k

✏️ Please tag me once you have posted your fic so I don’t miss it! @writing-wh0re 

✏️ Due date: July 4th, 2021! (In your timezone) I hope that’s plenty of time for you to get creative x  However if you’re creating a series and need more time, please message me. 

✏️ After the 4th of July 2021, I will create a seperate masterlist to make it easier for everyone to find. 

Prompts are below the cut. 

Prompts: 

1. Really? You’re choosing them over me? @meph1stophelian

2. So I mean nothing to you? - @midgardianweasley

3. Do you ever shut up? @pengwengs-writing

4. Have you been drinking? @annyadawson

5. If you had just asked me, I would have. 

6. Shut up for a second. 

7. Do you not understand what I’m trying to say? 

8. Kiss my ass. @harleytonks

9. Fuck you, pay me. @rosietoesy

10. Can we not make this work? 

11. Um, how about go fuck yourself. 

12. You didn’t seriously say that? Did you? 

13. Play nice. 

14. This means the world to me. 

15. I can do this, with or without you. @stxvercgersslut

16. If you don’t do as I say, you’ll die. 

17. You’re marrying him?  @classyhorseeclipseduck

18. I can’t believe you. 

19. Get it through your head. 

20.  We’re just friends. 

AU Prompts: 

1. Sibling’s Best Friend AU

2. Roommates AU

3. CEO AU

5. Professor AU

6. Body Guard AU

7. Prince/King AU

8. Sailor / Pirate AU

9. Apocalyptic AU

10. Vampire AU @skarlettmikaelson

11. AU of your choice. @samineisntmyname

Song Prompts (enjoy my mixed music taste): 

1. Leave the Door Open - Bruno Mars

2. Drunk Face - Machine Gun Kelly 

3. Dangerous - LEFT BOY

4. Heat Waves - Glass Animals

5. Daddy Issues Remix - The Neighbourhood

Tropes: 

1. Blind Date - @horrorxweasley

2. Forbidden Love

3. Long-Distance Love

4. Secret Relationship

5. Love Triangle

6. Fake Date / Fake Dating. 

7. Enemies to Lovers

8. Friends to Lovers

I tried to give you a variety of options! I hope you all enjoy what you create, I know I will enjoy reading it all. Thank you again for your amazing support, love and encouragement. Stay safe in this crazy world! xoxo

Don’t forget to tag me in the stories and #writing-wh0re-requests1k 

Tagging a few mutuals who may want to join / will reblog for me  ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@maybesandohnos @gaycatlord-stuff @midgardianweasley @horrorxweasley  @justadreamyhufflepuff @hufflepuff5972 @mathletemadison @black-like-my-soul @harleytonks @meph1stophelian

[wannabevampire]

also, this is the same anon that sent the (´∀｀)♡ face... i just started posting some sfw blurbs and headcanons but i want to post more spicy things bc thats mostly what i read LMAFJKFNKDJ but i was wondering if u have any tips for new writers? were u scared of posting nsfw stuff at first?

hello (´∀｀*)♡ anon!

first of all you already took the hardest step which is posting your writing in the first place! so as corny as it sounds never undermine that achievement because it’s really cool!

secondly i still consider myself a new writer to a certain extent? i’ve still got a lot to learn! but i will try my very best to tell you some tips that help me :)

okay so…

#1

no matter how niche you think the character you write for is. no matter how “weird” you think the trope or kink your writing for is.

someone will be into it! there are so many people in this community so almost always you’ll find someone who likes the same things as you!

note:

sometimes other writers & readers will also read your work even if they aren’t strictly “into” what you’re writing

(i know i do it! and honestly it’s opened my eyes to some things that i’m very much into! as well as helped me realize some things make me uncomfortable! other times it’s just fun to read and support my friends!!)

#2

don’t write for anyone but yourself! it will just make you resent writing and that’s the last thing anyone wants!

#3

don’t be afraid to set boundaries. and don’t be afraid to block people if they are making you feel uncomfortable. consent is necessary and important, even online.

#4

try to make some friends! i know that’s easier said than done and as a shy person those are like the worst words i could ever possibly hear lmao

but honestly almost everyone on here is just as eager to make friends and mutuals as you are!

if that seems nerve racking feel free to start with me! no pressure of course, but i’d love to support you so don’t hesitate to shoot me a message or ask <3

#5

be nice and be respectful.

no one likes people who think they’re “too cool for this”. we are literally writing sex stories about superhero’s, get over yourself.

don’t be a “omg i’m soooo mean 🤪” type of person. because you are not a baddie you’re just an asshole!!

also respect the fact that even if you don’t write rpf (real person fan fiction) to a certain extent real people are going to be involved! not all directors are as fan-fiction loving as Chloé Zhao! and some of them are required by contract to NOT read fics because it can interfere with things and cause legal issues!

@/neil-gaiman (author of coralline, sandman, good omens, ect.) has a post about this where he explains it better than I do lol! it’s pinned on his account 👍 i’m not tagging him because he has expressed that he doesn’t want to be tagged in fics, so even though i don’t write for any of his characters i still wanna respect that decision.

also you never know how actors are going to react so don’t try to shove it in their faces? because they’re real people!

it’s not even that actors or writers or directors hate fan fics and want them completely eradicated. some people just aren’t into it and that deserves to be respected!

#6

write even if you think no one’s reading and write even if you’re only getting 10 likes <3

i remember how happy i was when i hit 30 followers!! lmao i bought myself a cupcake and everything!

so always celebrate the little things and HAVE FUN BABY!!!

reach out if you need anything, i like to think i’m a pretty nice person to talk to? and i love making new friends :D

okay bye!

xoxo,

allie🕊

p.s.

always tag your work! especially if it’s 18+ and especially if it’s dark!!

[ecrivant]

on intimacy pt. 2 | levi ackerman

(levi ackerman x reader)

a collection of touches shared between you and levi.  read pt. 1 here

word count: 1.3k

You laid in your bed, haunted by ruminative wakefulness.  Stomach flipping between pleasant warmth and anxious throbbing, made worse by the fear of what you may dream.  A disquieted mentality which only fed into physiological anxiety.  A weight on your lungs.  You took deep breaths, trying to reclaim some semblance of control, too focused on your own respiration to notice Mikasa rousing and padding over to your bed in the dark.  She softly called out to you, kneeling beside your bed.  Her hair fell over her face, shrouding her eyes.  A palm came to rest on your face, and came too a familiar bloom of warmth emanating through you.  Still, panic rose.  You seized. She began to exaggerate the movement of her chest, pushing it up and letting it fall as she breathed slowly, silently encouraging you to mimic her.  You followed her gentle inhalations and exhalations.  When she noted your breathing had steadied, she nodded, asking if you needed more; you nodded back to reassure her you didn’t.  Her soft footfalls against the ground as she walked back to her bed, rhythmic and palpable.

Your dreams were pitch, but contorted cries, aural perversions of your friends’ voices, filled your ears within the darkness—image only manifested once you were submerged in the feeling of falling.  Your bottom half hung from a gaping mouth, and sinew and cochineal viscera poured out of your stomach as you fell headfirst to the earth.  Fulminations of gore erupted around you.  The maimed bodies of your friends suspended in the air, blood viscous, expressions malformed.  You woke as your spine shattered against the ground.  

—

Embarrassing, maybe, that you found yourself outside of Levi’s office.  You contemplated abandoning whatever subconscious agenda you sought to fulfill, but you could only watch as your hand rapped at the door on its own volition.  A three-count, and the door opened.  Close to immediate.  You indulged the idea that he had expected you to come, maybe even hoped for it.  Stepping back, widening the opening, he wordlessly ushered you in.  You were struck by a futile hope that your trembling legs went unnoticed.  Speaking in hushed tones:

“Would you like the bed?”

You considered refusing, either out of politeness or self-consciousness, but you understood Levi’s equivocation—a question implied a suggestion implied an order—and nodded.

His bed, centrally placed in the small bedroom adjacent to his office, was made immaculately—sheets crisp, corners folded, pillows fluffed.  More than picture-perfect.  You were reluctant to sit but acquiesced under his expectant gaze.  Eyes exploring the room, you noted everything was in its place; and then you asked yourself how you would know what ‘in-place’ was.  You had never even considered the room’s existence before this very moment.  You thought on the inherent vulnerability of the bedroom—it was not more than a person in objectified microcosm.  You were suddenly self-conscious, aware of your invasion.  You could sense Levi in every aspect of the room.  It was a sort of omnipresence which, admittedly, disquieted you.  A strange form of pervasive and ubiquitous comfort.  

He stared at you through the doorframe, arms hanging by his sides.  Neither turned away when you confronted his gaze.  You searched his face and found him unreadable.  His form tenebrous against the dark backdrop of his office; in the shadows, he showed his age.  You were reminded that while you watched him, he watched back.  Again, you were self-conscious; aware of his scrutinizing gaze, of the space you occupied.  A habitual comfortable silence this was not—the air felt suspended, heavy with potentiality, about to drop.  Or perhaps it was already in freefall.  

He was crossing the room, his steps reverberating through you.  Atmosphere vibrating.  The bed dipped as he sat beside you.  Who else had shared this experience, seated next to Levi in his bedroom?  You wished yourself to be the first, a pioneer.  Something about it gave you a headrush���was it the intimacy of something shared by only two, or the excitement of exclusivity?  You decided it didn’t matter.

He still sat before you, deciding what to do, calculative. You forced yourself not to move.  You wanted him to initiate.  

When he finally did, you had settled so far into the stillness that his movement startled you.

His hands dragged over yours, slowly, achingly so, lingering on your digits, your wrists.  Slipping under, his fingertips found your palms, tracing along the creases, pressing into the pads.  The spaces between fingers, the dips in your knuckles.  He found it all, left no place untouched.  Nimble fingers pushed up your sleeves, cool air raising goosebumps.  A touch, barely perceptible, ghosted over your arms, grazing hair more than the skin, tingling trails left in its wake.  Your eyes flitted up from his hands; his face was firm, his brow furrowed in concentration, gaze focused on his own movement.  

You wanted more.  You found your skin to be shell-like, an epidermal barrier, and wished to shed it.  To rid yourself of that cursed, fleshly mediator, and to feel his touch directly.  Not on your skin, on you.  No longer a timid interest, but a primordial need to feel a connection between two innate unknowns—a need to be touched, held, until you were nothing but one nebulous silhouette.  

You sat, absorbing his touch, emitting waves of feverish air.  Reluctant to breath.  One hand intertwined with yours.  The other continued on, trailing over your features.  Fingertips on your ear.  Your cheek. The ridge of your bottom lip.  Your cupid’s bow.  The bridge of the nose.  Browbone. His touch, a fomentation of something long smoldering within you.  A corporeal glow, burning, blistering.  

Levi stopped.  He met your gaze.  His eyes said, “Now you.”

You reenacted his motions in tender emulation.  His eyes on you as hands shakily grazed his skin.  Barely-there tremors under your fingers—insuppressible reaction.  His hands, arms, still and there for you to feel.  His sharp features softened under your touch. Eyes, attentive, never drifting away, lucid and drinking in your movement.  You savored each other.  

Levi was the first who dared to speak: “I would like to kiss you, now.”

You reveled in the quiver of his voice.  Nervousness. So open, so clearly stated. 

You liked the way he felt against you—his lips were warm and satin-like.  Exploratory, sentient.  They modulated slowly, subtle movements fading into one another, an amalgam of quiet, labial gesture.  Your hands came to rest on his wrists, and he gasped at the contact.  Everything hyperaware, hypersensitive.  You swore you could feel his heartbeat in your chest. You liked the shared, languid sensuality—quietly seductive but imbued with innocence.  Levi loosed his hands from yours and moved them to your face, cradling it.  You could feel the rough callouses against your cheek—the hands of a soldier.  You gripped at the sheets.  Cloth massaged between your fingers.  You liked the way he pulled away from the kiss, and his breath blew, hot, against your lips.  You had never seen him winded before.  

“You feel nice, Captain.” Head light and floating high above the room, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed by the way you slurred your words.

He shared the bed with you that night.  Face to face, his hands roaming your sides, indolent.  Silently awake, resting in the other’s company.

As a child, awake at night, lost in that pervasive nocturne, you would dream of a feeling: an ineffable intimacy, something you dully craved but never found.  Had you loved this moment since you were a child?  This untroubled moment, secluded from the collection of cruel and terrible moments that defined and would come to define the remainder of your life.  You memorized it, writing it in fleeting senses and images.  

One more indulgence. You wrapped your arms around Levi, holding him close, tight, and breathed in his scent, reminded of your minority: you saw your childhood home, the kitchen window.  The quiet warmth.  A memory enveloped in closeness.

—

hey!  i hope you enjoyed this two-parter!  thank you for reading, it’s always appreciated!  also, throw a lil feedback my way if ya feel like it!  more writings coming soon (?)  i’ve been shockingly prolific in the past few days, let’s see how long it lasts.  i’m feeling... a mr. jean kirstein piece coming soon.

below are the beginnings of a taglist, so if you’re interested, drop a line and i’ll tag you in my writing posts!  xoxo

taglist: @flam3bird​

[yeojaa]

“i love you.”  read:  6:45 pm.

drabble inspired by this post that @hobi-gif​​ tagged me in.  i'm a sucker for misunderstandings, y'know?  also, this is unedited and not proofread.  xoxo

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  a bit of dumb angst due to misunderstandings, some fluff to make up for it, mentions of drinking/alcohol, idiots in love. idk.  wc.  1.9k.

“So, you’re shooting bourbon at 7:30 on a Wednesday why, exactly?”

How Yoongi manages to keep the judgment out of his voice, you’ll never know.  Maybe it’s a bartender thing - some skill you acquire over time, like an achievement in a video game. 

Charisma:  +30 Listening:  +20 Interest:  0

“Because he replied ‘hella’ when I told him I was in love with him.”  You think if it weren’t so funny (and embarrassing and bruising to your ego), you’d have a hard time repeating it.  Instead, it cuts off the edge of your teeth in a melodramatic wail and you knock back your fourth shot in not very long at all. It burns on the way down, igniting your insides in a very different way than you’d like. 

Luckily, the bar is packed - it’s freshman night! - and your cry is lost in the crowd, eaten up by the awful din that seems to only exist in college bars.  It’s only you and your favourite bartender that hear it and for that you’re grateful. 

“You’re not serious.”  From the look on his face, you know he believes you.  Has to, because he knows the culprit behind your heartache. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?”  You deadpan before waving your liquor-laden wrist in a lazy circle.  “Another, bar wench!” 

It’s not that funny but between the alcohol that’s buzzing in your veins and lighting you up like a goddamn Christmas log to the humiliation that’s burning its way through all your sensibilities— well, you can’t help it.  

You’ve always resorted to humour when you were hurting. 

“I think you should slow down.”  He means well - you can see it in the narrowing of his eyes, the way his mouth tilts just enough to make you feel like a kid in front of the principal - but you don’t want well.  You want more.  Need it.

For a split second, you feel a wave of emotion.  It crests and threatens to swallow you whole, dragging you seven thousand miles beneath your own misery.

You swallow it down as best you can, tasting salt water and the sea when you tug a rough hand through your hair.  It aches a little where your rings catch, threading silver through silk.  “Yoongi, c’mon.”  You ignore the way his name slurs out of your mouth, trapped between wet lips that don’t quite move like they should.  “I’m fine.  Please.”  The desperate edge to your plea tells him enough - that you’re well on your way to having too good of a night, inebriation playing at the sidelines of your vision.  You play it off and shift in your seat, sneakered feet kicking this way and that to right yourself.

To his trained eye, you’re about two minutes from slipping backwards off the worn leather stool.

“Can I call someone at least?”  He’s meeting you halfway, begrudging and a little worried. 

“I’m fine!”  It shoots off your tongue, a rocket to the moon.  You don’t want to come down.

He sighs once, a sharp inhale of breath through his nose.  He’s got that look on his face - the one that tells you you’re going to owe him one.  You think that might be better than returning to your dorm, empty-handed and heavy hearted.  

“Please?”  

Amber liquid finds itself in your shot glass again and you’re quick to snatch it up, worried that Yoongi might dump it the moment he has a chance to consider how he’s indulging you.  You swallow it greedily, as if it isn’t pooling uncomfortable heat everywhere it hits - down your throat and around the sides of your mouth.

“Take it easy,”  comes a voice - an achingly, devastatingly familiar voice - to your left.  It steals your breath - tugs it out of your lungs in the same instant your heart heaves out of your chest.

Jeon Jungkook’s grinning that megawatt smile at you, dimples on full display.  His hair’s a little damp and more than a little messed up, sweeping across his forehead in that way that makes you want to run your fingers through it.  Shoulders are swathed in soft cotton and plaid, the navy blue and grey pattern a stark contrast to the blinding white of his tee shirt.  

He looks so good you want to eat him up.

Instead, you jolt like you’re about to lose the contents of your stomach.

Hands - both his and yours - dart out.  Yours grip the sticky booze-stained bartop;  his seize your elbows, steadying you easily.  You try to ignore the way his palms burn heat across your skin. 

“You okay?”  He says it so sweetly, as if he hadn’t just shattered your hopes and dreams into a million little pieces less than an hour ago.  He says it like he always does, with affection painting his words and stars in his eyes.  Even in the dim light, they’re mesmerizing, constellations swirling in his irises.

You have to make a conscious effort to tear your gaze away, redirecting your - admittedly fuzzy - stare to the speck of lint on his collar.  It honestly doesn’t help much, because like this, you can see the trail of ink that drifts past his neckline.  Swirls of black work that make up the roses that span his shoulders, capping each segment of bone prettily.  

He repeats himself when your silence stretches too long for his liking, a tattooed finger rising to tap gently along the ridge of your jaw, thumb sweeping just so across your chin.  “Hey, baby.  You good?”

A part of you wants to live in the way that sounds.  You’re a sucker for pet names and while you’ve heard this one once or twice (or a hundred times), it coils itself like a cobra around the organ in your chest, poised to ruin you.  One wrong move and you’d be paralyzed on the ground.

“What’re you doing here?”  You finally manage, tearing your roving eyes from the patterns you know lie beneath cloth.  

It’s not the smartest move - because you’re distracted by his stupid handsome face again.

“Well, you didn’t answer my text so I got worried.  Checked your Snapchat and saw you were here.”  It comes so nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just discovered you drowning your sorrows in cheap whiskey.  

“I didn’t answer your text?” 

You can see Yoongi lingering at the edge of your periphery, hand paused around a glass that he’s in the middle of passing off.  You wonder how crazy you must sound, or if you do at all.  Maybe just pathetic?  You don’t want to think about it too hard.  

“You said ‘hella’ to my confession!  What am I supposed to say back to that?”

“What’re you talking about?”  It’s Jungkook’s turn to take the title of village idiot, big doe eyes widening to the size of saucers.  You want to smack the expression off his face - would, too, if your heart didn’t also clench pitifully at the thought of hurting him.  

You think he might be backtracking when he retreats a hairsbreadth, releasing you in the same moment his other hand dives into the front of his too-tight black jeans.  The denim strains against his thighs, muscle and sinew flexing when he transfers his weight enough to allow him to yank his phone out of his pocket.  Said device is in your face in the next instant, glaringly bright screen making you shy away.  

Who the hell kept their brightness at 100%?

“Hey - look at this.”  He sounds stern as he continues to wave the sleek black iPhone before your eyes, seemingly unaware of the fact that you can’t damn well see a thing with him constantly moving it.

“Stop!”  You snap, finally, drink-addled hands snatching it out of his hands when he’s still twirling it like the most annoying wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man in existence. 

With the phone in your own two hands, you peer down at the screen, trying to make sense of what you’re looking at.  There’s definitely your last two texts - you cringe at the sight of them, blue bubbles bursting your own - but there’s a slew of others beneath it and they’re all delivered, the read receipt mocking you. 

You nearly yeet the phone across the room when, after two or three read-throughs, you grasp what he’s said.  “You want to date me?”  The words fumble on their way out, knocking into each other in a way that’s equal parts drunk-girl and stupefied-crush. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”  He’s got that shit-eating grin of his lighting up his face, sweeping sunshine and daisies into every corner of his expression.  It’s at complete odds with the way his mouth twists and turns, flat of his cheek rounded by the tongue he presses into it.  You’re both awestruck and turned on all at once.  You feel like you might short circuit or maybe that you already have.

It’s the only explanation for the way you’re surging forward - because you’d never do it otherwise, unless you weren’t in control of your own stupid body - and all but throwing yourself against him.

As if he anticipates it, he receives you like a bed you’ve been away from for too long, broad palms sweeping across the backs of your thighs as you cling to him like a koala.  Your cheeks burn white hot and steeped in something - love, lust, a mixture of both - and you hum comfortably against the column of his throat.  The sound is returned tenfold, echoing from his cavernous chest like the happiest cat in the world.  It shakes your entire body, so closely pressed to him that you can feel every vibration that runs through all five feet, ten inches of him. 

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?”  His words lose themselves in your hair, breath warm against the shell of your ear as he squeezes you tight.

You give him his answer in the press of your mouth, parted and a little sloppy, more tongue and teeth than technique.  You swallow the laugh that builds, devouring it like a kid in a candy store with the intensity of your adoration.  “Hell-a yes.”

The way he grips you in response, laughter rolling off him in intoxicating waves - because you’d happily get drunk off the sound - fizzes excitement through your limbs. 

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”  Both of you know the answer to that question, the knowledge passing silently between you.  

You smirk;  Jungkook mirrors it.  He surges forward for another kiss and you’re meeting him halfway, slanting your mouth greedily across his.  He relents for the briefest moment - lets you savour the gentle brush of his lips, the soft pass of his tongue - before he’s taking all he can get.  He’s licking over your teeth, laving hotly across every inch in a way that makes your head spin.  

“Get a room!”  It comes from your right, somewhere just behind you. 

“We should take their advice, baby.”  He coos, breaking away just enough for you to gulp in lungfuls of air.  His lips are the prettiest shade of red, kiss swollen and slicked with spit.  

At any other time, you might be ashamed - you can only imagine how you look - but here and now, fueled by the knowledge of reciprocated love and the pleasant warmth of liquor, you couldn’t care less.  So you kiss the boy you love, eager and with hands trailing the expanse of his back.

“Let’s go.”

[otonymous]

Dear otonymous, I have read your MLQC character ABCs and i would like to inform you that i am not amused and inquire where do you get these ideas. My husband caught me reading this and afterwards he divorced me. He was wondering if the vivid details were based on our lacking experiences. If there is one message i want to spread is reading these pieces can ruin lives. Sincerely, A former accidental reader (Also otonymous hun, take care of yourself and get your mind out that gutter)

Dearest Nonny,

I have to say that this Ask left me somewhat perplexed when I read it.  It was and remains difficult to tell whether or not it was meant as a joke, and it is after much consideration that I decided to address your comment in the off chance that it wasn’t meant in jest.

Let me begin by offering my sincerest sympathies if you are, indeed, experiencing difficulties in your relationship with your significant other.  I can only imagine that it must be a very distressing and disorienting time for you, and I wish you nothing but the best in navigating the situation.

That being said, I feel your comments bring up a number of important issues that require addressing, the first of which being the role of personal responsibility.

My blog and its contents are meant to be consumed by adults and is clearly labelled as such.  As an adult, one is expected to have the sound judgment to decide on what is considered proper behaviour, and I use the term ‘proper’ very loosely in recognition of the fact that what one feels to be acceptable may not be to another, depending on a wide variety of factors such as education, religion, the circumstances under which we were brought up, etc.  This point will be further elaborated on below.

Part of being recognized as an adult and gaining the liberties that come with it is that we are expected to be responsible for our own actions.  For better or for worse, we bear the consequences of the decisions we make.

You mentioned that you have read my NSFW MLQC character ABCs; not just one, but presumably for each of the 4 male leads.  Each of these pieces takes, on average, 10 minutes to read.  Each post also includes a “Read More” link, specifically put in place so that readers won’t accidentally stumble upon adult-oriented content if they choose not to consume it.  Furthermore, said posts are tagged with warnings about the content contained therein.  Hence, given all the above, dear former accidental reader, I would assume that one would have to go to great lengths to accidentally stumble upon all that NSFW content.

As an adult, which I will assume you are given that you were perusing my blog, you made a conscious decision to continue reading my work.  Thus, any and all consequences of your behaviour — including the unfortunate dissolution of your relationship — lies with you.  It is neither logical nor fair for you to attempt to place blame and guilt on the author.

The second issue in your Ask which warrants discussion is your prescription that I “get my mind out of the gutter.”  As a writer, I enjoy crafting stories that involve elements of love and sexuality, two very important components of the human experience.  I embrace all forms of sexual expression, given that it is consensual, between adults who are capable of making informed decisions, and safe for all parties involved.

As I mentioned above, what one person is comfortable with in terms of sexual behaviour may differ significantly from another’s.  This, I can understand.  What I staunchly oppose, however, is the laying down of judgment on the sexual proclivities of others — especially on strangers that, quite frankly, one knows nothing about.  

It is my personal belief that others should never be made to feel ashamed or guilty when it comes to sexual expression, provided that the tenets set out above are satisfied.  For far too long, women and other marginalized members of society have been made to view their sexual desires as “dirty,” topics that need to be suppressed, or — to extrapolate from your words — be relegated to the proverbial gutter, never to see the light of day.

Love is beautiful, intercourse its expression, and great sex an art form.  What you find disgusting may be intensely stimulating to another.  But, as an adult, you have the right to choose what you do and do not consume.  What you do not have is the right to dictate what is and isn’t considered proper behaviour to another such as myself.

So, dear former reader, my mind will happily remain in that gutter of creativity while my heart soars high in the sky with lightness — happy and content in the knowledge that my writing helped save marriages in the course of allowing others to get their proverbial rocks off.

On a final note Nonny, you said that “reading these pieces can ruin lives,” and to that I only seek to ask the following questions:

Have you stopped to consider why you were drawn to my work in the first place?  And have you considered why your significant other reacted so strongly to you reading such material?  Please correct me if my interpretation is wrong, but if he were insecure about the “lacking experiences” in your sexual relationship, would he be willing to remedy that if it were something you truly desired?  If he refused, how would that decision sit with you?

Sometimes, things need to fall apart in order for us to learn more about ourselves and those around us, hopefully growing stronger and more self-aware in the process.

In the off-chance that your Ask really wasn’t meant to be a joke, dear Nonny, I’d still like to thank you for sharing your thoughts because it provided the perfect opportunity for me to share mine. First, that my posts are written for adults, and as adults, I expect us all to have the maturity to take responsibility for our own actions.  No one is being forced to do anything here, and as such, we need to behave accordingly, even when acting under the cover of anonymity.  Second, my blog is a safe space, welcome to those who may have felt or do feel marginalized because of their sexual orientation or desires in any way.  Given that sex is safe and between fully consenting adults who are capable of making their own informed decisions, it’s all love.💕

A giant THANK YOU to those of you who’ve read this to the very end!  Dearest Anon, I hope you can understand where I’m coming from, and please know that I do sincerely wish you the very best.

- XOXO, Otonymous

[etherealwaifgoddess]

But Then Came You - Chpt.1

Summary: Loki tries to plan his next moves after being dropped off in a post Decimation New York City. Master list can be found HERE.

Content Warnings: A sassy reader not afraid to call Loki out on his bullshit

Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! The first chapter is here! Woo. I know I said 6pm but I literally have no chill when it comes to this fic. There’s no long build up in this one, just straight to our main characters meeting. I hope you enjoy! Chapters will be posted daily. XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

New York is a shell of the bustling metropolis it once was. Loki wanders the half filled streets quietly planning his next move, still unsure of what to do. The Eluskans had been kind enough to drop him off on Earth since he had nowhere else to go. The fall of Asgard still weighed heavily on his mind, his home planet which thrived for millennia gone in a fiery apocalypse. He had been given a few thousand dollars of US currency and a change of clothes to help get him on his way. They really were the kindest people. Loki had to perpetually bite his tongue so as not to lash out at them for trying to help. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t understand what they had done in bringing him back. Their intentions were good but it doesn’t erase the dreams and memories that have haunted Loki since his resurrection. 

The city feels empty in the wake of The Decimation. It had taken Loki a full day of walking through the abandoned neighborhoods to fully understand what had occurred on Earth over the past few weeks. New York was doing what it did best though; the communities were rallying round each other, helping support those displaced by the loss of family and friends. 

The summer heat wears on Loki and he starts looking for somewhere he can cool off for a bit. He’s hesitant to use his seidr to relieve himself of the heat as it’s been spotty at best since he was brought back. The healers advised it would take some time to return to its former strength after all he’d been through. They had encouraged him to practice with it daily to help strengthen it, like one would do for a weakened muscle. Loki wants little to do with his seidr however. It was the reason they had found his body, the incessant little spark that refused to die, and had also led to his resurrection.

The cafe is empty except for the two baristas who are deep in conversation when Loki enters. He’s running on three days of no sleep and needs the small relief caffeine will bring. The icy blast of air conditioning is helping his fatigue as well and Loki hopes he will be able to linger with his drink for a while without disturbing anyone. 

“What can I get you?” The overly cheerful blonde barista asks him. Her name tag reads “Sunny” and Loki almost chuckles at how appropriate that is.

“Espresso, please. A quad shot.” Loki requests. 

“Anything else?”

“No, that will be all.”

“Name for the cup?”

“Loki” 

Your head snaps up at the name. It’s too rare to be anyone else. “Holy forking shirtballs you’re him! I mean, you’re… you.” You blurt out at an embarrassingly loud volume. 

Loki stares at you like you’ve sprouted six heads. “I beg your pardon?” His tone is almost offended, but mostly baffled by your outburst.

“Sorry, I binge-watched The Good Place on Netflix last weekend. And I didn’t mean to call you out like that, I just… know of you. Never expected to meet you face to face like this though.” 

“The Good Place? Netflix?” Loki is still lost, now bordering on irritated. You speak in the hurried way he’s come to associate with youth, your gestures animated as you talk. If he can’t be served his drink here he’ll have to trudge along for who knows how long until he can find another cafe or, Norns forbid, a Starbucks. 

“It’s a show. And you know, Netflix. The streaming service?”

Loki stares blankly at you.

You’re certain your face is the same shade as a tomato as you continue to flounder for words around him. “Or I guess you probably don’t know. I’m sorry. You know that filter most people have between their brains and their mouths? I don’t have one of those. So I’m gonna go get your espresso and leave you alone now. Sorry, again, really.” You slink away to the espresso bar and start queuing up his shots, praying that the ground will just open up and swallow you whole so you don’t have to face Loki again. 

Sunny gives Loki a grin and a half shrug, “You’ll have to forgive Y/N. I wish I could say she’s not normally quite that awkward but she totally is. She means well, you just got her a little starstruck.” 

“Starstruck?” Loki raises an eyebrow at Sunny in disbelief. 

“Yeah, totally.” Sunny nods enthusiastically, “You’re a literal god. Who wouldn’t be?” 

“It’s not the reaction I get from most Midgardians.” He confesses. 

“Oh right, because of the whole ‘trying to take over New York’ thing.” 

Loki nods at her assumption.

“You don’t have to worry about that with us.” Sunny assures him, “Matter of fact, Y/N did a whole paper on it our first year at Columbia. I think she did it just to piss off our psych professor but it was some of her best work. She argued that it was proof anyone can be peer pressured into anything.”

“Peer pressure?!” Loki sputters incredulously. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, Y/N can explain it better, but basically she drew parallels between Thanos preying on your weaknesses, ie. your desire to rule somewhere, and getting you to do his dirty work for him, to a bully preying on a weaker kid’s insecurities and pressuring them into doing something bad.” 

Loki scowls over at your back, displeased to have a deeply traumatic event reduced to something so simplistic. “I don’t think it was quite that simple.” Loki grumbles. 

You hear his grumble, unable to ignore the conversation going on behind your back. “It kinda was though.” You mutter beneath your breath. Or at least, you meant for it to be under your breath. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, was it?” Loki’s tone is bordering on venomous. “Please, come tell me how you know better about a part of my life than I do.” 

The blush that had started to recede flares up again and you force yourself to remain calm and steady as you finish pouring the espresso and turn to face Loki. You spent a whole semester working on that paper and stand by your conclusion. Like hell were you going down without a good fight. “I’m not saying I know your life better than you do.” You clarify, “But I do think the whole ‘Battle of New York’ business is a prime example of peer pressure.” 

Loki’s eyes widen, he’s surprised you’re standing by your preposterous notion even with him glaring daggers at you. “Do I look like an emotionally fragile child to you?” He demands.

“No, but that’s the point. It can happen to anyone. Maybe I’m wrong, but let’s get a few things straight first.” Your brain has gone into investigator mode and you’re in your element now. Loki waives a hand dismissively letting you continue, “Who sought out who? Did you go looking for Thanos or did he find you?”

“He found me.” Loki replies evenly.

“Before you met Thanos had you ever considered attacking New York?”

“No.” 

“Would you have tried attacking New York or any other place by yourself?”

“Well, no. But…”

“Nope. No buts, mister.” You ignore his scowl, you’re on a roll. Excitement is thrumming through your veins, his answers lining up just the way you want them to. “And how did Thanos convince you to try? Did he by chance remind you of all the awful things your adoptive family did to you? Hiding your heritage, denying you of your rightful throne?” 

“It was common knowledge.” 

“Mhmm. And he offered you a place to rule. You only had to help him with one simple, little thing. You knew your brother favored Earth, right?”

“He is overly fond of this planet, yes.”

“And Thanos probably hinted that you’d be ruling the place that was special to your brother. The brother that was given the throne that should have been yours.” 

“Thor and I have reconciled since…”

“But not six years ago you hadn’t.” You shot Loki a cocky grin, you had him right where you wanted him. “So let’s recap, shall we? A more powerful person reached out to you, reminded you of the alienation of those closest to you, played up your supposed right to rule, offered you a chance to do so, and get back at your brother in the process. He offered you everything you could possibly want and the means to get it. Despite the means being wrong and you knowing they were wrong. Sounds like a bully and peer pressure to me.” 

Loki scowled harder to suppress the smirk that was trying to upturn his lips. You had impressed him more in five minutes than anyone else had in five hundred years. “Insightful little Midgardian. I don’t agree with your theory but you clearly put a lot of thought behind it.” 

“I did, thanks. But how are you here? The news said you died in transit to Earth from Asgard. Not like you haven’t fake died before, but still. It seemed pretty legit this time.” 

“The news was correct, I did die. And now I’m here. Waiting on that espresso you’re holding.”

You look down at the steaming cup in your hand, “Oh, right. Sorry. Here you go.” You pass the drink to him and his surprisingly cold fingers brush faintly over yours making goose bumps prickle along your arm. “So, what are you doing here in New York? Other than getting a caffeine fix?” 

Loki takes a sip of his coffee, sighing softly in relief before replying. “I’m not sure yet.” 

You give him a half smile and a shrug, “Well, enjoy your drink.” 

“I will.” Loki nods and moves off to the table in the far corner by the window. 

You turn your back on Loki to face Sunny, eyes wide, your face splitting into a grin. You mouth oh my god to her dramatically and she stifles a giggle. Loki is only across the room and you’re not too keen on making a fool out of yourself again in front of him. Unsure of how long he plans to stay, you busy yourself cleaning the espresso machine to pass the time. You’ll have a lifetime of gossiping with Sunny once he leaves.

Loki sits quietly watching people pass while he drinks his espresso. The dark brew hits his system like a gut-punch and he can feel the drowsiness retreating a little. It’s enough to keep him going a bit longer and that’s all he can ask for at this point. He knows he will need to sleep at some point soon, god or not he’s still flesh and bone. Sunlight hits the curly golden brown hair of a woman across the street and images of his mother blossom in his mind unbidden. The ache in his chest threatens to double him over but he steels himself, clenching the cup in his hand as hard as he dares without crushing it. 

Your eyes keep wandering back to Loki who’s transfixed looking out the cafe window. You try to keep busy but it’s difficult with him so near by. You’d seen many pictures of him and learned so much while working on your paper; it’s no surprise he’s attractive but you had clearly underestimated how attractive he is in person. You notice the second Loki sees something upsetting, the way his eyes darken and his face takes on a haunted expression. You give up pretending you’re unaffected by his presence and head across the room, settling down in the chair opposite him at the table. “You okay?” You ask him softly.

Loki’s eyes remain staring outside and you wonder for a moment if he’d heard you. “I’m fine.” He says finally. 

“I doubt that.” 

Loki’s reply is a perturbed frown in your direction.

“Look, I don’t expect you to talk to me. But I’m guessing some shit went down or else you wouldn’t be sitting here sipping espresso and looking like you’re about to pass out.”

“Some shit indeed.” He bites out deprecatingly. 

“Do you at least have a place to stay?”

“I’ll find one easy enough.” 

“Not right now you won’t. It’s move in weekend for the colleges around here. Plus all the people displaced by The Decimation. There won’t be a free hotel room in the city until at least  next week.” 

Loki curses internally. He can’t just wander around aimlessly until he passes out somewhere like a homeless person. Showing up at SHIELD’s front door asking for a room isn’t an option either, he’s still persona non grata with the organization. He doesn’t think they’re still actively hunting for him though. Loki had been told Thor was unavailable when he’d tried to reach out the day he arrived on Earth and he didn’t push, mostly out of fear of rejection. He’s momentarily consumed with agony and anguish again, thinking of his brother and his current aimlessness in this changed world. This is what he had been brought back into, a painful, useless existence. 

You watch him struggling internally and you can’t just sit idly by. “If you need a place to crash, Sunny and I live a few blocks over with our friend Chelsi. We had another roommate but she graduated and we haven’t found a new one yet. You’d have a bed and a safe place to stay until you find somewhere else to go.” 

Loki looks at you then, meeting your eyes and it makes your breath catch in your throat. He makes a hum sound that isn’t a no and it spurs you on. “I know I’m a stranger but you probably don’t have many friends in the city and I really just want to help. Take your time deciding, we have books over there to be borrowed if you want to just hang out and read for a bit. My shift ends in two hours and….”

Loki cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “Stop talking for a minute, will you.” He knows he’s in a tough spot and you have managed to both intrigue and amuse him in the short time since he met you. It’s entirely possible you’re being genuine and want to help but you could also be an assassin. He can't be too careful and he has to be certain. Taking your hands in his, he stares into your eyes and lets his seidr flow through him into you. You feel a sight rush, like when you stand up too fast and your blood pressure drops, and you hold on tightly to his cold hands. Loki searches quickly through your memories and thoughts, digging deep down to the core of your being until he’s satisfied he’s seen enough. There are things buried deep he knows you probably won’t appreciate him seeing but he can be discreet. 

Loki holds on to your hands just a moment longer than he needs to, letting your memories wash over him. You at five, running around the playground with your friends and inviting a sad looking little blonde girl to join you. You at ten, laying outside in the dark with the same little blonde girl looking much happier as you study the stars. You and the girl, recognizable as Sunny now, at fifteen when your parents died and you move your things into the guest room next to hers. You at twenty, moving into your first real apartment off campus, excited and terrified all at once. Hundreds of other memories flutter by as well, blurring together to make up your lifetime. School days and old friends, boyfriends and a few bad breakups, vacations and quiet moments spent at home. Loki is soothed by the simple ordinary memories distracting him from his own past. Regretfully he pulls his hands back, breaking the spell of the moment. 

“What did you do?” You ask in a hushed tone. You aren’t angry, just curious.

Loki swallows hard, relieved you have forgiven his intrusion. “I had to be sure you weren’t a threat.”

“You could have just asked.” You point out. 

“And you could have lied.” 

“Touché. So, what did you find?”

“Nothing of concern. I’ll take that room you offered.” 

You’re pleased he’s agreed to come home with you, hoping that you might get to know him a little while he’s there. “Okay.” You agree, unable to hold back your excited smile. “I’ll text Chelsi and give her a heads up. Sunny heard us for sure but,” you raise your voice pointedly, “she’s too damn polite to admit she was listening while she pretends to wipe down a perfectly clean counter top!” 

Sunny laughs and throws the rag down. “Mi casa es su casa, Loki.” She calls back. 

“Thank you, Sunny.” Loki calls back with an indulgent smile. He can’t help but be slightly amused by the pair of you. You’re both so young, the cheery optimism of youth still clinging to you and it's a breath of fresh air to him. He doesn’t look much older than you but he’s pushing 1,500 and after all that he’s been through he feels every single year of his age. 

“Grab a book or play on your phone or whatever until my shift is over if you want. Alex will be in at five so we can head home.” You tell him as you stand up and head back to the barista bar with Sunny. 

Loki wanders over to the bookshelf and pulls down a copy of the first book that catches his eye. Settling into a padded, dark blue velvet chair by the bookshelf, Loki loses himself in the book. He almost doesn’t hear you coming hours later when you stop over with a steaming mug of something topped with foam and sprinkled with cinnamon. “I figured you probably shouldn’t risk more espresso, god or not.” you tell him. 

“What is this?” Loki asks, accepting the warm cup from you.

“Chai tea latte. I don’t know what you like but this felt like it might be a good fit.”

“And why is that?” Loki takes a sip and waits for you to speak before he passes judgement on the taste.

You feel your cheeks heating. You won’t dare tell him your thought process in choosing the drink. Spicy but sweet, complex, an acquired taste, just like the god sitting in front of you. You swallow past the lump of nerves in your throat, “Just a guess, I guess.” 

Loki doesn’t believe your simple answer for a minute but he doesn’t push. “Well you guessed correctly. It’s good.” Loki takes a longer sip, enjoying the rush of sugar across his tongue. He would never admit to something as undignified as having a sweet tooth, but he will admit to himself that he’s enjoying the drink more than anything else he’s had since arriving back on Earth. 

“I’m glad.” you say over your shoulder, walking away to help a new customer who just walked in. 

Loki hums in appreciation, letting himself have just a few more decadent sips before his self control kicks in and he sets the cup just slightly out of reach on the table next to him.

[cultureaddictconfessions]

Unexpected Love - Cubicles CYO Ending #3

(As requested by readers, I’m posting all the endings for Cubicles! I hope you enjoy them, and I am excited to bring you more choose your own ending fics in the future. Shoot me a message if you want to be tagged. Stay tuned! xoxo, Bri)

Your favorite thing about parties had always been music. There was always a new song to discover, and you got to watch people being silly and free while they were dancing. It was refreshing to be able to let loose after such a vexing day at work. You ate candy and drank a little more than usual, trying to keep in mind that you still owed Lily a visit in the morning. You chatted up some of your coworkers. The girls were funny, talking shit on the trouble the guys caused or when their bosses were being assholes. It was nice to diversify your company because you expected to spend some of the night chatting with your male friends, or wishing Lily was there, or fending off drunk creeps (of which there were a few in your office, not that they were completely unmanageable.) You were presently toward the middle of the dance floor, focused on Alice Fortescue, who kept debating whether or not she was going to spend the weekend lounging in the countryside, or whether she would finally ask out Frank Longbottom. It wasn’t long before she realized that your attention was slipping, and she followed your gaze toward the DJ booth. She turned back to you, giving you a rather sly smile. You blushed. “I didn’t know you had a thing for Remus Lupin, Y/N… he’s very sweet, isn’t he? All the other girls talk about how he’s the most agreeable one of his friends, did you know? You should ask him to dance with you.” If you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t actually thought of Remus as anything more than a gentleman and a friend until this very moment. He was always polite to you, and you gathered that he had a soft spot for you because he was always attentive whenever he was around you and always asked if you needed help with anything. But isn’t that what friends did for each other? Lily did the same thing without asking and never expected anything in return. Still, you’d been friends long before you got the job. This was different; this was a guy who always stuck around his friends, or was usually too focused on his work to make time for anyone unless it was necessary. It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, but that he took his job very seriously, much like everything else in his life. It was admirable, but difficult to crack and understand. “Whoah whoah, Alice, slow down. How do you know I was looking at him? And anyway, we’re just friends. I barely know him, honestly. He’s so reserved and professional; even if I wanted to make a move on him, he would probably deem it inappropriate for co-workers to interact romantically…” Alice seemed unconcerned with Remus’ perceived shy nature and promptly grabbed you by the arm, leading you in his direction. You tried to wriggle out of the tiny woman’s grasp, but she was alarmingly strong compared to her size. Frank was chatting with Remus, as you noticed when you finally got close enough. You grimaced, giving Alice a desperate look, but she would have no pity since her mind was made up. She went right up to the two of them and just stood there. “You know you haven’t asked me to dance yet, Frank Longbottom. This party is halfway over and you’ve spent the whole time chatting with boys.” Alice looked up at him, chin raised and a judgmental look on her face. A blush raced up his face, and he chuckled nervously, while Remus watched this exchange with quiet amusement. Frank apologized to Remus and held his arm out to Alice, who took it gleefully while giving you a piercing stare. Remus followed her gaze and found you, looking like a deer in the headlights. A warm smile appeared on his face as he waved. You took the gesture and ran with it, mostly because you didn’t want Alice to do anymore orchestrating because she’d be much more aggressive and far less cool. He nodded his head respectfully when you arrived in front of him. He was a head taller than you, a willowy frame. “You look nice, Y/N. You changed your outfit.” You nodded shyly.   “I had to help James set up after lunch, so I figured I should bring something a little nicer to wear for the evening. Sorry about Alice… I was just talking to her and she decided she was done waiting for Frank to pay attention to her and made a move herself…” You looked down at your shoes, chuckling at the little white lie you were giving him. He reached out and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze to stop you, a smile spreading warmth in your direction. You blushed, avoiding his eyes. “Well, should we stand here quietly, or do you want to dance?” You finally managed to proposition him. He blinked at you for a moment, trying to process what you’d just said before he slipped his hand into yours and placed the other one gently at your waist. You were a little thrown by the juxtaposition of formality and intimacy. Everyone around you was grinding on each other, but ever the gentleman, that wasn’t Remus’ style. “This isn’t quite the music for this kind of dancing, but I think I do this much better than I do… that.” Remus chuckled softly so that only you could hear him. He was indeed quite a good dance partner, leading you effortlessly through a series of steps. You hadn’t had to ballroom dance like this since you were a child at your family Christmas parties.  “Still with me, or are you already getting tired?” Remus ribbed when you spaced out reminiscing. You blushed, shaking your head vigorously and stepping a little closer to him, your hand down to his forearm. He gulped. “You tensed up. Relax, I won’t bite… unless you ask nicely.” You winked up at him, which elicited a nervous laugh. He loosened his firm grip on your hand, although the one on your waist was still strong, almost possessive. He was glancing around then, particularly at a few of the guys who took notice of you dancing with Remus. You gave a little cough, bringing his gaze back to you. He bit his lip, uncertain of how he got to this moment. “Remus. Don’t worry about them. I’m here dancing with you. Sorry my attention drifted, but you have me 100% now. Trust me.” You pressed up to his chest now, trying to reassure him. You felt his heart quicken at the closeness, his arm slipping further around your waist in response. “You know they’re all drooling over you. They always do. But you never seem to respond to it. I mean, you don’t blow anyone off; you’re the most friendly person I’ve ever worked with, but… Why don’t you like any of them? D’you… not your type?” He whispered the last part, not wanting to offend you. You laughed with your whole body then, which shook both of your bodies. Was Remus jealous of the other guys? You wished he could take a hint, but it seemed you would have to spell things out for him.

“I do like guys, Remus, but I don’t like guys like them. The ones who oogle me and don’t actually try to get to know me. Not like… not like you do every day. You always try to catch up with me and see how I’m doing, but it’s never creepy or ill-intentioned. You’re always a real gentleman. Look, you haven’t even tried to feel me up while dancing!” You said this very sincerely, looking deep into his eyes. You couldn’t help laughing at your last statement, and he could only blush down at you in adoration.

“Only if you want me to,” he joked, sucking his lip in as he laughed. You licked your lips, entranced by this other side of Remus that you were tapping into. He was a little more confident, a little more teasing, and more open. You liked both, but it was nice to see him relaxing with you. “Can I… can I be honest with you?” He murmured, looking serious again. You nodded, curious and hopeful of what he wanted to divulge.

“Remus, why don’t you just ask me out on a date, hmm? I’ve been waiting for you to make a move this whole time, but I guess I’m just impatient.” You lifted your chin up, giving him a smoky stare. He blushed, looking down at you incredulously, before breaking into a smile brighter than the string lights shining above your heads. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, sending a wave of heat through your body.

 “I was hoping I’d get to spend time with you tonight, considering how brief our conversations at the water cooler or the copy machine tend to be. I… don’t usually run into situations like this, but I guess you’re different than other people. You make me feel a little more comfortable in my skin, which is such a confusing experience for me. But a good one…”

“If you’ll have me. And if you’ll forgive me, I don’t kiss on the first date. I’ll have to thank Alice for the support, of course.” He winked, letting his hand slip down just below your waist. You gave him a suggestive glance and then a surprised laugh.

“I should’ve known you’d be smart enough to get a woman as your wingman, Rem. Well hopefully you take me somewhere that’s a little less full of our drunk co-workers… for this second date. And I’ll have my kiss yet.” You leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed one to his chin. He just smiled and gave you a spin as the music swelled into the night.

———————————————————————————————————

Tag List

@supremequeenofthenerds​, @wizardwritings​, @couragetocontinue​, @fudgefight​, @lionnottheanimal​, @crtreg​, @shehassomuchsoul​, @formersovietunion​, @serenefreakgeek, @bibimagines​

———————————————————————————————————

(In an effort to keep the “secret” element of the stories, I will only be linking to each ending in the main post, so check there if you want to read more endings!)

[skabunny]

Summer Reading Adventure

When I was a kid the best day of the year hands down was the day we would sign up for the summer reading program at the Denver Public Library. I couldn’t wait to fill in the map and earn my free pizza. As an adult I can now buy my own rewards, but I also I have this blog which means that I can challenge you all to a summer reading adventure. Read through to the end for something exciting.

For the Denver Public Library, their summer reading list is 15 books to be entered into win the grand prize. Below you have 15 of my reads from this year, specifically picked out for summer.

Daisy Jones and the Six - Taylor Jenkins Reid - There is something about music, the 60’s, and California that make me think of perpetual summer. This is a fun quick read and was totally unexpected.

A Man Called Ove - Fredrick Backman - Bring a box of tissue, this one pulls the heart strings. One of my favorites by Backman this story starts at an end and takes everyone on an adventure of starting over.

Mexican Gothic - Silvia Moreno-Garcia - This horror novel takes on the pulp fiction style of writing in the mountains of Mexico. As you follow the protagonist into the deep depths of a notoriously secretive family, you start to question your own sanity. Not for the faint of heart, but 100% worth the read.

The Silent Patient - Alex Michaelides - Every time I try to find a way to describe this book without ruining the twist, I end up saying you need to read this book so I don’t give anything away. It’s a very adult thriller, but getting from the beginning to the end is worth the ride.

Back When We Were Grown Ups - Anne Tyler - This is a cute story about looking back while moving forward. It was unexpectedly charming.

With the Fire on High - Elizabeth Acevedo - Get out of the heat of summer into the fire of the kitchen with this challenging story of trusting yourself and growing up. It’s quick read and one of my favorites by Acevedo who has become one of my absolute favorite authors this year.

Homie - Danez Smith - This book of poetry starts with a disclaimer, Homie is a replacement for a word that has a long sordid history. I was blown away by this collection that covers race, life, and the experience of being black. I totally added this one to my list because I loved the cover and I will be adding it to everyone’s list because of the poetry it contains.

The Diary of the Serial Killer’s Daughter - L.A. Detwiler - This one is here for 2 reasons: A) there is something about a thriller in summer that makes summer more alive. B) true crime and summer go hand in hand. This story of a girl learning about her father’s “art” and it’s history starts with a bang and keeps you sucked in all the way to the end.

The Scorpio Races - Maggie Stiefvater - This young adult novel about a girl who enters a horse race because she doesn’t want her brother to leave her, is a challenging exploration of family and myth. Each character has so much to learn and so much that they share. A great introduction to Stiefvater’s work.

The Thin Man - Dashall Hammett - A former detective and his wife try to have a quiet holiday in New York City. Murder and mischief ensue and Mrs. Nick Charles is one of my favorite women in all of pulp fiction detective novels.

Know My Name - Chanel Miller - Back into non fiction for this memoir of pain and growth. So far there have been several books on this list that have people coming of age or to terms of an event, but this one was not only real, but also a moment in recent history that set off change through out the world. Miller is a clever and honest writer who doesn’t pull punches about how her trauma and the resulting court case effected her. You can read her moving victim statement online, though it is also included in the book. It’s a rough read, but it is genuinely brilliant.

Caste - Isabel Wilkerson - We cannot stop learning about the systemic racism that has continued to benefit a select few to the detriment of the many. Caste is one of my favorite books on this topic. Not only does Wilkerson use history, statistics, and personal experience in this complex discussion, she frequently challenges readers to really evaluate their own behavior. The book was truly illuminating and I will likely reread it this summer as we continue to fight for the rights of everyone.

Red White and Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston - Every summer needs some romance and while this is a book about 2 college age boys falling in love, you cannot even imagine the ride. Sit down, turn off your phone, and laugh as they navigate love on a grand stage.

The Death of Vivek Oji - Akwaeke Emezi - I really debated which LGBTQIA+ book I wanted to put on this list and I have many I could include, but the story of Vivek Oji was one of the first books this year that I felt totally blindsided by. This story of the aftermath of the brutal death of Vivek Oji is heart breaking and also beautiful. I felt like I was with each character as we learned who this child was and how everyone struggled with their own grief. It’s rough, but like Caste a brilliant story worthy of every beautiful summer day.

A Royal Affair - Allision Monclair - Who doesn’t want to attend a royal wedding? This is the second book in the Sparks & Bainbridge mystery series and it sends the ladies of the Right Sort Marriage Bureau on the adventure of a lifetime all for true love in service to the crown. This is charming and fun with a bit of mystery and romance along with the mystery.

So, there are 15 books here, and I challenge you to finish 15 books before the end of the summer. Keep a list and submit it to me via email, with the dates read and would you recommend, by August 15th, 2021 and you’ll be entered a to win 1 book of your choice. This is a US only challenge as I can’t afford international shipping. You can add in entries by tagging @sibbyreads on Instagram as you post pictures of what you’re reading. Only books and posts read/ made from June 1st through August 15th will be considered.

This is also an opportunity to diversify your reading list. Take a chance on an author or topic that you’ve found daunting in the past. Reread books you loved in the past and challenge the themes to see if you can learn anything new. Whatever you’re summer adventure, I’m excited to join you for the ride. Find me on August 15th with my list of 15 books I loved this summer and 3 I hated. It’ll be an interesting challenge.

Until next time adventurers -

You Can Find This Book And All The Others I Suggest On Audible Or From Your Local Library. Tag Me In Your Social Media Posts So I Can See What You Think.

If you’re struggling reach out to someone you know or trust. If you need help or to chat the crisis text line is an option or you can reach out to me at madeofmana@gmail.com. Also please reach out if you have a book recommendation or want to talk about any of the books I have already reviewed. xoxo - Lala

[cultureaddictconfessions]

Unromantic Love - Cubicles CYO Ending #5

(As requested by readers, I’m posting all the endings for Cubicles! I hope you enjoy them, and I am excited to bring you more choose your own ending fics in the future. Shoot me a message if you want to be tagged. Stay tuned! xoxo, Bri)

The sun streamed in through your bedroom window and slashed right across your eye line, waking you instantly. You groaned, rolling over and trying to escape the golden heat. How had you gotten back to your bed? You held your phone up and blinked blearily. Multiple messages left on your voicemail. Sighing, you opened the visual voicemail app and found that you had 4 from unknown numbers and one from Lily. It was about 10 am and you didn’t usually show up at Lily’s until lunchtime, but you listened to her message first. She reminded you that she would be rather upset if you didn’t show up to Lazy Saturday, and to call her when you were on your way over. Lily also suggested a cold shower and lots of water, assuming you might be hungover. Unfortunately, she was correct.

You pressed the next message after that, sitting up in bed and noticing a glass of water on your night table. You were truly confused now. Suddenly, a man’s voice began speaking boisterously.

“Goooooood morning, dearest! This is James, your favorite co-worker! Just checking to see that you woke up alright and that you’re not still on a bender from last night! You were quite a riot! -chuckles- Anyhoo, I’m sure the rest of the lads will have left you messages because we’re all very chatty, but if you need anything, well… now you have my mobile! Thanks for making last night fun and well-decorated, see ya Monday!”

Oh, Merlin… what had you done to elicit such a bubbly response from James Potter? You grumbled again, getting up and heading to the loo to pop a few aspirins into your weakened body. You shook your head and pressed the next message, after registering James in your contacts.

“Shut up Prongs! Er… sorry Y/N love, you know how James can be! Just wanted to drop you a line and make sure you drink the water on your side table, yeah? You’ll definitely need it considering that third shot really threw you for a loop, I think. Very cute though, and that gave me an excuse to ring you and give you my mobile, didn’t it? Feel better, see you Monday, and please also apologize to your owl for our intrusion.”

WHAT?! You stared at your phone incredulously for a moment before scurrying out of the bathroom, down the hallway and into the kitchen, where your owl was asleep in his cage. The only thing amiss was that the door was open. Had… had the group been in your flat last night with you...unconscious? You’d had the guys over for dinner before, but that was entirely different and in your control. You paused for a moment, looking around wildly, before gasping aloud.

“Oh, Merlin’s knickers! I must’ve gone out on the lash and they had to bring me home. Oh no... how dreadfully embarrassing.” You sunk onto the kitchen floor with your head in your hands. Steeling yourself after a moment, you decided to play the last two messages, which you could only assume were from Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

“Hi Y/N, it’s Remus from work. I’m calling to fill you in on what happened last night because I imagine the others will take the opportunity to say some silly, unhelpful things… oh shut it, you know you’re just using it as an excuse to… Sorry about that. Anyway, James and Sirius had a drinking contest with you and you were completely out of it afterward, so we decided to make sure you got back to your flat okay… We just looked at your ID to find your address and you had your key on you so… Sorry, I know it’s not really appropriate, but I… -coughs- we were all rather worried about you and they felt bad for basically poisoning you THAT’S HOW ALCOHOL WORKS LADS so we set you to bed and put water and the trash bin around in case you needed. Sorry again, and please give me a ring to let me know you’re okay. Cheers.”

Honestly, at this point, your life couldn’t get any worse. Not only had you thought it was a good idea to try to drink James and Sirius under the table, but you proceeded to roll off your trolley and need assistance making it back to your bed. You were honestly surprised that they all collectively decided to bring you back and take care of you, but they were basically your only close friends at work besides Lily. You dragged yourself off the floor and darted back to the loo, rushing to take a shower and get yourself somewhat together so you could Floo over to Lily’s flat in 20 minutes. You didn’t bother to put on real clothes, as you were just going to be lounging on the couch with Lily. As you cobbled together snacks to bring over, you played the final message.

“Why am I going last?! OH! Hullo Y/N! I hope you’re feeling better this morning. Not that you weren’t having fun last night hanging out with us at the party but you seemed pretty sick by the end of it… Moony probably already told you we brought you home and woke up your owl. You didn’t throw up though, and we made sure to leave you on your side so you’d be okay! That was my idea! Your flat is very nice, I really like your posters! WHAT?! WE WERE THERE, I’M NOT GONNA LIE ABOUT LIKING WHAT I SAW! ...Sorry, that sounded creepy. Your decorations, I meant… not that you’re not lovely too… ugh, I’ll shut up now. Anyway, Y/N, I’ll bring you extra sweets Monday to make up for us breaking-and-entering. We really are sorry, but friends don’t leave friends alone when they’re knackered! Have a great weekend! Oh, it’s Peter by the way! Bye!”

You were finished by the end of the message, and you were pretty damn sure you would never be able to look any of them in the eye again after that shitshow. It was pretty funny that they all seemed to have recorded their messages together and were yelling at each other during that. You stepped into your fireplace with a sigh and shouted for Lily’s flat. Green flames licked up over you and whooshed you away, spitting you out in the lobby of Lily’s apartment complex. You gave her a ring to let her know you were downstairs. In a few minutes, the redhead appeared, giving you a once-over that was rather like a mum who thought her child was up to something suspicious. You blinked at her and gestured to go upstairs, and she shook her head before acquiescing. Lily lived on the third floor… and was apparently pet sitting?

“Right, I um… I needed a favor from Potter for this upcoming piece I’m writing, so I was obliged to babysit his cat Algernon for the evening while the party was happening. He’s actually much more agreeable than Potter, and you know I love making new ginger friends.” Lily chuckled nervously as the orange cat called Algernon wove his way around your legs appreciatively. You gave her a pointed look before reaching down and scratching Algernon behind the ears. He pawed at your leg, so you walked through to Lily’s couch and sat down, with Algernon hopping up onto your lap. Lily took the bag of snacks you brought with you and laid the things out on the coffee table. You flipped on the tv and scrolled to Witchflix, too embarrassed to bring up last night’s incident to Lily.

“What did you want to watch Lils? I don’t think I’m in the mood for another romantic comedy, I’m not gonna lie. I think I could do some interior decorating or baking or something…” You took a sip of the water bottle you’d brought along, feeling somewhat better than you had earlier in the morning. Lily appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of Chex Mix and gave you a once over before she settled in with you and Algernon. She snatched the remote and rolled through her queue, making reactionary noises at everything before stopping and looking over.

“Okay, out with it. What happened last night? You look like hell, didn’t take the mickey out of me hosting Algernon, and you haven’t said much since you came in. Did someone make an awkward love confession to you? Better yet… was it more than one of them?” Lily chuckled at the end, but she was fairly serious when she questioned you. You sighed.

“I just got rather drunk and…” You gulped, remembering the voicemails from earlier. You knew Lily was going to roast you for them. “The boys had to bring me home and tuck me in. Spooked Aidoneus and apparently checked out my decorating scheme. Nothing major. Honestly, I shouldn’t have done shots with James and Sirius because they’re notorious for how trashy they are when they drink.” Lily listened silently the whole time before she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Honestly… that’s much better than I expected. Not that being carted home by a bunch of bozos from work is okay in my book, but considering none of them tried anything and you just blacked out and went to sleep, I’m pretty much fine with giving the whole night a pass. Plus that means I didn’t have to babysit you!” She stuck her tongue out at you and you smacked her with a nearby pillow, almost dislodging Algernon from your lap. She held up her arms in surrender, laughing. After a fair bit of ribbing between the two of you, you enjoyed the rest of the afternoon cuddled up and laughing at the flailing and friendships of Muggle British bakers, and didn’t think about boys or work at all. It was absolutely lovely.

———————————————————————————���———————

Credit to @ghost-of-bambi​ and @fetchalgernon for letting me borrow their boy!

Tag List

@supremequeenofthenerds​, @wizardwritings​, @couragetocontinue​, @fudgefight​, @lionnottheanimal​, @crtreg​, @shehassomuchsoul​, @formersovietunion​, @serenefreakgeek, @bibimagines​

———————————————————————————————————

(In an effort to keep the “secret” element of the stories, I will only be linking to each ending in the main post, so check there if you want to read more endings!)

[etherealwaifgoddess]

What He Wants (Pt. 22)

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Summary:  On going series of Bucky getting his shit together and falling in love with you.

Warnings/ Content: more lemons, shocking i know lol.  And a VERY brief mention of past non-con while he was under HYDRA’s control, nothing graphic or specific, just a reference but I felt the need to include it because I love ya’ll and don’t want to offend anyone. 

Word Count: 1458

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Here’s one more part for tonight and then tomorrow I’ll post the rest. Can you believe we’re only two parts from the end?? I certainly can’t. But for now enjoy another lemony fresh installment. Because as much as Bucky enjoyed your little performance in the last part, the man is a giver. 

If you missed the first few parts, you can read them here: 1 2 3 4 5 67 8 9 10 1112 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

XOXO - Ash

What He Wants, Pt. 22

Bucky’s silence worries you a little considering how vocal he was beforehand. “So that was… okay?” you ask hopefully. The last time you had done that you were still in college so you weren’t exactly experienced, but you hoped it was good for him.

Bucky stares at your incredulously. “Doll that was… that was… fuck, I still don’t even have the words for it. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Oh.” you can’t hide your surprise or how pleased you are, “Good. I wasn’t sure and I tend to overthink things.” 

Bucky shakes his head, “It was perfect, absolutely amazing. I just wish I could have hung on a little longer.” he blushes, feeling a little self conscious, “It’s been a while and god help me just the sight of you down there about did me in.” 

“It’s okay, Bucky. Please don’t think I care about that, I really don’t. It’s been a very long time for me too.” 

Bucky chuckles, “My definition of a very long time and yours are really not comparable, mouse.” 

“You know I’ve had my abilities for eleven years now. I’ve only had three failed relationships since then and only two of them progressed to the bedroom. And it was disastrous both times. After that I gave up.” you explain, hoping it helps ease his mind a little.

It doesn’t, it just makes his heart ache for you and he wishes he knew who those idiots were so he could go tear them limb from limb. “Well, sweetheart, I went off to war in 1943 and I wasn’t exactly a ladies man before that.” 

You try to sort out if he’s kidding or not, unsure by how nonchalant he’s being. “You’re kidding, right? I saw the exhibit on you at the museum in DC when I was a teenager. All those pictures; you and Steve before the war, and then you in your uniform, and in the Howling Commandos. You looked every bit the ladies man they played you up to be.”

Bucky laughs, “It wasn’t hard to seem suave next to Steve before he was given the serum. And honestly, I grew up in a house full of women and a best friend who was either sick or tripping over his own two feet. I spent all of my time taking care of my sisters, taking care of Steve, and at the library.”

You struggle to respond to his brutal honesty. It seems so unbelievable but also explains a lot. “Okay, so maybe the historians exaggerated. But what about after all that?” 

Bucky cringes, “There is no after. HYDRA captured me and that was pretty much it for the next seventy odd years. Once Steve got me out I wasn’t fit to be around anyone, let alone try to date a girl. I get flashes sometimes and I think… I think they used the soldier sometimes. With other agents or whatever. I don’t know why and I don’t remember all of it though.” Bucky takes a long breath. He never talks about the little he remembers of his time with HDYRA but he wants to with you. Bucky feels a little lighter unburdening to you and he thinks that at some point maybe he’ll share all of it with you, when he’s ready. 

You try to stomp down your horror at his revelation before he sees your expression. You wish you hadn’t pushed the conversation, “Bucky that’s awful.” 

“It’s okay, doll. Don’t look so upset. Like I said, I don’t really remember it much. But now you believe me? It’s been a very long time for me. And I couldn’t be happier that it’s with you. You’re perfect, mouse.” he leans over to caress your face with his right hand and you nuzzle against him. 

“I’m glad it’s with you too.” you say against his palm, planting a firm kiss against it. 

“Now, no more gloom. I’m gonna go grab my arm and then you’re gonna be the one who’s lying brainless on the bed.” he gives you a wolfish smile and jumps up off the bed. 

Bucky returns to your bedroom, fastening on the arm Fury had brought for him, testing it out carefully. “God, I love this thing.” he says. 

Bucky joins you on the bed, sitting on the edge so he can run his vibranium hand from your hip to knee. “So soft,” he purrs, “I can feel it.” 

The cool metal leaves trails of goosebumps as he trails it along your skin. “That’s amazing. I’m glad Shuri was able to make it for you.” 

“Me too, mouse, because I want to feel you every way possible.” 

Your eyes widen as he pulls your hips so you’re laying on your back on the bed. 

“Scoot up, doll.” he tells you and grabs a pillow. He wraps his vibranium arm under your thighs and lifts your legs and hips up to slide a pillow under your butt. Bucky starts trailing kisses across your thighs and up your hips to the soft swell of your belly and the fleeting self consciousness that rises up in you is quickly shot down by the throaty noises of appreciation he’s making. Bucky moves his kisses over top the soft cotton of your panties and you can feel his hot breath through the thin fabric making you clench your fists in the blankets so you don’t squirm. He finally pulls down your panties, tossing them on the floor by his sweatpants, and you’re bare in front of him at last. Bucky makes an almost pained sound and lays his head on your thigh for a moment. “Oh, doll, you really are perfect.” he says reverently. 

You are floating at his compliment. There is a lightness in your chest in knowing he has seen all of you, even the flaws that you would hide, and still desires you. Bucky runs the long pointer finger of his right hand up your folds while his vibranium hand rubs a thumb over your hip and squeezes it gently. You tremble, knowing what’s coming. Bucky’s right hand parts your lips and he runs his flattened tongue along your core. He laps at you, his nose rubbing at your clit for a moment and you squirm a little uncontrollably. He pulls back a moment, “So fucking sweet.” he growls before diving back in. Latching on to your clit, he alternates between sucking on it and flicking it gently with his tongue. You’re trembling hard, unable to believe how good feels when he slides two cool, metal fingers into you. “Oh fuck, I can feel you tightening up on me.” he moans and his shoulders shake a moment. His mouth continues to worship your core and his right hand jolts up to cup your breast, kneading it gently. 

Your body is on fire under him. You feel positively consumed by him, his mouth and hands overwhelming your senses. You can’t keep up with the flood of pleasure and you’re grinding down on his mouth with embarrassing fervor but you can’t help yourself, it’s just too much all at once and into too many places. The rhythm of his tongue against your clit and the two fingers inside you speed up and you make a soft keening sound, barely able to keep your hips in place on the pillow. His right arm snakes back down to lay across your lower belly, keeping you in place securely. The orgasm that hits you does so with little warning and you go from whining gasps to screaming his name in an instant. Bucky groans loudly and the vibrations add to the intensity of your orgasm as he draws it out longer and longer, before slowly bringing you back down. Carefully he laps at your slick folds, cleaning up and savoring the taste of you before he moves away.

You’re still breathing hard and your thighs tremble beneath his cheek as he rests on you, tracing circles on the soft skin of your thighs. You slip a hand down to play in his hair affectionately and he looks up at you, his beard glistening from your arousal. He can see the joy on your face and pride swells in him for being the cause of it. Bucky moves up next to you on the bed and carefully removes the pillow from under your hips. You can’t help but notice a hardness pressing against your thigh and you look down to see Bucky is rock hard again. “Round two?” you offer with a mischievous smile. 

Bucky groans but shakes his head, “You don’t have to, doll. This damn thing is an overachiever.” 

“We could… you know. If you want to.” You’re suddenly shy but very, very ready.

Tag List Lovelies: @my-current-fandom-is @blacklightguidesnic @amazonianbeauty@ladyemofhousestark@abswritesfandoms@rupestria @dark-night-sky-99