#something about being seen as 'other' and being kept at arms length because of that. never really being accepted only used for talent

[leverage-ot3]

parker in the inside job is so real to me

parker, who has had a very complicated relationship with the concept of ‘family’, who blew up her abusive foster parent’s house, who bounced around the foster system before ultimately making a run for it

who was caught pick pocketing a world-renowned thief and taken in under his wing where he molded her into the best thief that ever existed, where he then ‘released her into the world’

archie took her in, yes, but he didn’t really take her in. he kept her at arm’s length, letting her live in empty warehouses and learning how to pick locks and beat security systems instead of going to school or learning what familial love was

he raised her, but only barely

and leverage did a great job of adding subtleties to her to have her come off as neurodivergent, most likely autistic. she was never what society would deem as ‘normal’, especially back then. and then archie tells nate to his face that she would never fit in, not anywhere

(and nate is mad. eliot is mad. rightfully so.)

parker is different from most people, thinks differently and acts differently. but that’s not wrong, and not her fault. but archie couldn’t see past that and take her in as she truly was, not when he had an ‘actual’ family at home. she wouldn’t fit in and that was something he wasn’t willing to risk, try or explain

and then archie calls parker asking for her thoughts on the steranko situation and she doesn’t even hesitate because his family is on the line. his real family. and he’s her father in a way no one had ever been before and looked after her in the only way she knew how and that meant something to her and she couldn’t have something like that happen to him

not on her watch

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 27] || [Chapter 29]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: illness, injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff, love confessions! Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Just a cute little moment

Chapter 28: How in the-

The trip with John was short but sweet. A full weekend together, away from everything…

Followed by 4 whole weeks alone. Not that you minded the extra piece and quiet.

You were normally kept at a distance from the boys and their line of work. Arms length, not because they don’t trust you, but because just like Simon learned to drop Ghost at the door, the rest drop work at the door too.

The closest thing you get to ‘work’ is funny anecdotes that can even make you laugh, OR soft, whispered, retelling of memories as your hands snake over their rough skins, fingers grazing the scars that those memories left behind.

Today was a first. In a lot of ways.

The boys showed up at your flat at 3 A.M. after spending a whole month out of Hereford and in God knows where.

You had opened the door very wearily to the sight of the four of them, not even having changed out of their tactical gear, looking like they had been through hell.

Kyle was walking with a limp and a groan, his back stiff and an inability to properly swivel side to side at the hips.

Johnny had gotten his shoulder shot?? Plus his knee was acting up so he was also limping.

John was, also, limping. His back was also stiff and he murmured something about having pulled a muscle.

And Simon? The man’s eyes were surrounded by circles darker than you’d ever seen them, his shoulders slumped. He moved normally, unlike the others. And that concerned you more than anything.

“Jesus, what happened?”

“Mission mishaps. They happen sometimes, da’lin’.” John told you soothingly as he attempted to press a kiss to the crown of your head, but wincing when he felt the pain shoot up his spine.

“Sounds to me like more than mishaps. There’s no way all four of you are injured and it was just a ‘mishap’.” You scolded them as you carefully helped them off their gear, multiple men groaning and grunting in pain as the heavy weights were shed from their torsos.

“Have you been checked?”

“Yes, we went to medic before coming over-” Kyle told you.

“And they let you leave on foot? You look like you all should be on bed rest!” You scolded them.

“And that’s why we’re here.” Johnny added before letting out a groan when you moved his arm, sending pain barreling down his arm.

“How in the-” You murmured as you noted the patched up bullet wound.

“Don’t ask…” Kyle muttered under his breath, a whimper of a sound that you had never quite heard from him.

They were like lost puppies… Needy for being lulled to sleep by a soft hand caressing them behind the ears after some nasty man kicked them on the street.

So that’s how you ended up with four injured soldiers in your house. Ghost took the living room couch, leaving the bed for John and Kyle and Johnny.

“Don’t get any blood on my bed, Johnny!” You warned him. “If something happens, you call me.” You had added as you made sure they were as comfortable as can be before you slipped out of the room.

Reaching the living room, it was now well past 4 A.M. Simon was lying there, one leg swung over the back of your couch, and eyes locked on the shower. “You okay, Simon?” You checked softly.

“Fine, sweetheart.”

“Don’t look fine to me.” You retorted and sat on the armchair by his head, looking down at him, your hand finding his and caressing it.

He twitched a bit against the pillows, brown eyes fluttering for a moment as he took a deep breath. “Mission went tits up. Strained ourselves trying to finish.”

“You too, then?” You asked him and he nodded. “Where?”

“Everywhere. I’m sore all over… And I think I have a fever.” He admitted.

“Do you wanna try a shower?” You suggested and he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna stand up for that long… I get dizzy.”

“And a bath?” You added.

“…” Simon didn’t answer but he groaned and forced himself to stand up. You helped guide him to the bathroom.

After lowering the stopper and allowing the water to flow into the tub, you looked at Simon. “I’ll be outside, okay? I’ll give you privacy.” You told him softly.

Leaning up, you kissed his pale cheek, and turned away…

Only for him to catch you by the wrist. “Stay.”

“What?” You asked him, unsure you heard him right.

“Stay. Please.” He requested.

“But… you said you didn’t-” You trailed off, the memory of his fear of exposing his body to you (or anyone) clear in your mind.

“I know what I said. Just… Please.” He insisted.

“Okay.” You replied and nodded, stepping forward again. He reached his arms up, painfully slowly, the same way John and Kyle and Johnny had.

You grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly rolled it up, your eyes finding his scar-riddled torso for the first time. Blotchy skin due to chemical burns here and there, big gashes and smaller cuts spread throughout.

Simon was looking away the whole time as you helped him off his cargos and underwear. The injuries continued down his legs, every inch of him nasty and ugly, only due to how brutal his scars were. In reality, it all made no difference to you.

“You okay?” You checked on him. He nodded slowly, his eyes screwed shut.

“Let’s get you into the water, okay? It’ll do you good.” You said as you grabbed him by the bicep and helped get him into a seated position inside the tub.

Then, you knelt by his side just as he was grunting in relief, his muscles relaxing in the water. 

The bathtub that had felt tight with you and Johnny in it months ago, now felt even smaller with Simon Riley in it. 

Grabbing the sponge, you carefully ran it over his torso and shoulders, wetting the part of him that didn’t fit in the bath.

The blond leaned his head back on the wall and opened his eyes, finding you looking at him.

“Thank you.” Simon told you in a whisper.

“For bathing you?”

“For dating me.” He replied, causing you to smile.

“My, Simon, you might be sicker than I expected. Where’s the confidence?” You teased him good-naturely, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Was never here. Just faking it until I made it…” He admitted and shook his head, letting it lull against the tiles.

“I see, well… It worked.” You joked as you kept wetting his body carefully.

“We’re lucky to have you.” He murmured. “You didn’t have to do this. To put up with us.”

“It’s not putting up if I like you.” You told him. “Besides… you take care of me. I take care of you. Mutually beneficial, that’s what a relationship should be.”

“I don’t take care of you because I like you.” Simon whispered, a drowsy look in his tired eyes.

“Then what for?” You asked him. “Because you want to shag me that bad?” You joked again and winked.

“No… because I love you.” Simon muttered, his lips a bit lazy in the way he said it, clearly too relaxed and tired and groggy to really think straight.

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped open, your hands going limp and dropping the sponge. “Simon…”

“You don’t have to say it back.” He said as he rolled his head against the tile wall, side to side. “Just wanted you to know.”

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

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[avocado-writing]

little horny Logan x reader thing. set after the events of deadpool + wolverine. may turn this into something longer one day

tw: alcoholism, AA meetings

rating: explicit

You are two broken people attempting to piece each other back together. 

It feels like a fruitless task sometimes; a Sisyphean boulder, both of you trying to rebuild a heart which has been shattered so many times it can hardly hold love any more. 

But then there are those moments that shine through. You ask him not to smoke, he puts his cigar away. You stop off at the corner store to grab a six-pack, he reminds you that you just got your one year token. 

You met him at AA of course, he was the new guy who had his walls up, you were the old-timer of the group who kept trying not to relapse. Alchohol had taken a lot from you and you didn’t want to let it take any more. Pushing back against it felt impossible but hey, one step at a time. 

Those groups, tucked away in a church basement - buried in the ground as if to, ironically, avert the eyes of god - were your lifeline for a long while. 

After trying to strike up conversation with him, you assumed he hated you. Maybe he was just that brisk with everyone, never sharing at meetings or sticking around to talk after. But then one night he found you about to go into a bar because you were so fucking stressed and a glass of whiskey sounded so so good, and all gruffness and flannel he’d managed to talk you out of it. He’d bought you a coffee and managed to wring out of you that your landlord was pressuring you for money you didn’t have, and you’d rather spend your last twenty dollars on something which made you feel good than try and meet a rent which kept skyrocketing. 

Logan had looked at you, levelly, and told you he’d speak to the guy for you. 

You got a text the next day from your landlord to say that your rent wouldn’t be increasing and, actually, would be going down considerably instead. 

And it was the start of… something. Something strange and fragile, but it was there. You walked his roommates’s dog with him, the weirdest little fucking thing you’d ever seen but quite affectionate despite her bug-eyes and lolling tongue, and Logan was the softest you’d ever seen him when he carried her in his arms when she plopped down on the sidewalk and refused to move any more. 

He fell off the wagon a lot, but that was okay. Recovery wasn’t a straight line, that was something you knew all too well. He was a struggling man and he was trying. To attempt to keep him away from the bottle you’d invite him round practically every night to watch a movie. Action flicks, sappy romances, stupid comedies, the two of you got through them all, and every night you got closer and closer on your beaten-up old couch until he finally fucking kissed you. 

He pulled you into his lap and you felt him get hard in a way which suggested he hadn’t been this close to someone for a long time. His tongue was hot, his hands rough, and you palmed him through his jeans until he came like the two of you were teenagers messing around for the first time. 

You were worried afterwards that you’d scared him off by being too forward, but you got a text asking if you were on for a movie that night. 

It got to the start of the second act before it was forgotten about entirely, your jeans thrown over the end table where you kept the popcorn as he fucked you with his mouth. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled until he grunted in satisfaction. Afterwards, his lips and beard were glistening with you. You tasted your orgasm on his tongue as you kissed. 

The night after, you were on your knees between his thighs, his cock buried in your throat and his grip practically tearing your pillows to shreds. 

“You can grab onto me, you know,” you’d whispered, spit dripping down your chin, slightly concerned for your sofa’s upholstery. Logan had stared at you like you’d hung the fucking stars. 

“Yeah, fuck. Okay, baby.”

He dragged you up and down the length of him, fingers against your scalp, and he came so hard that you couldn’t swallow it all. 

Things just… progressed. 

It wasn’t perfect. The two of you were finding your feet again in a confusing and hostile world. But you had each other, and that was a hell of a lot more than most people had. When you fucked, when you felt him slide inside you in a way which made you feel more full than you ever had before, the way his whispered your name like a little prayer and you were his god, all of it… just fucking perfect. 

But the best part was always after. When you were in the hazy glow, cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily at the comfort of having you pressed up at his side. 

Well. 

You made each other’s worlds brighter.

[merbear25]

Hello! Glad to see requests are open! Seeing that may I get a small thing for Zoro, Law and Mihawk. I've been having the idea of a devil fruit user reader falling into the water and needing rescuing (I'm very aware Law is also a devil fruit user but that just gives extra angst does it not). Hurt/comfort of course

Hello! Thanks for sending this in. I decided to change it a little for Law's, but I hope you like it anyway 💜💜

Even with precautions set in place, the sea was where the unexpected could happen. Whether a storm, sea monster, or battle taking place, the threat of the water was something you could never escape. Luckily, those closest to you were always prepared to protect.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, headcanons/scenarios, reader is a devil fruit user

If you went overboard… (Zoro, Law, Mihawk)

Zoro: He’d always been protective over those closest to him, so you were no exception. Though never overbearing, he still kept an eye on you. During times of peril, he kept you in arm's length as often as he could. You were capable—strong in your own right. However, there were dangers that automatically made you far more vulnerable. 

That day’s waters were vicious. The waves cascading over the railings gave no sign of the storm letting up. One wrong step was all it took to send you hurtling overboard. A shriek that pierced even during the hurricane-like winds sent the other hearts onboard plummeting.

Their cries for you weren’t accompanied by Zoro’s, but his action traveled faster than their worried calls. Before your limp body had the chance to sink much lower than the surface, he was there, diving in after you.

He was never short of prepared. Even when taking one of many naps, being aware of his surroundings never faltered. 

A watchful eye on everything and everyone, his friends being the ones calling for actions guided by the heart.

He wasn’t one to hound others on things they were already aware of. The unexpected should be expected, and that meant there’d be times when you were made vulnerable and in need of help, just like all the others.

Law: The sea gave no pardons to anyone. Your devil fruit abilities came with a burden that at times felt more like a curse. The calm waters the Polar Tang was cutting through turned dark as the daytime sky transformed into night. With night came more blind spots because of the abyss inevitably closing in.

A sudden wack against the side sent some of the crew members to the floor. Books flew off the shelves and the alarm sounded through the metal rooms. Red lights that blinked in urgency left split seconds of total darkness in your room. Another slam caused you to trip and miss the door handle.

Water started spouting through the cracks, and with each attack against the submarine the cracks grew in size. Your cries for help were quickly silenced by the rising water. The cold ocean held you in a tight embrace against your bedroom floor, yet offering no comfort. An immediate drop outside your room jolted you awake.

It would come as second nature. No thought, just action. You were one of the few who he considered close to him.

Rescuing you, no matter how often, came with some lectures, though. Even if it wasn’t entirely your fault, he mostly did it as a way of expressing his fear of losing someone he cared about again.

Thorough check-ups after such shocks to the system were given, even if you protested saying you were just fine.

Mihawk: Holding the title of the greatest swordsman marked him and anyone close to him as a target. The bullseye seen by the world was drifting casually through the seas, catching the rays of that day’s sun. The rippling water from an approaching ship didn’t even cause him to open his eyes. He was still enjoying the warmth of the sun, but with the supposed enemy drawing nearer, he was left with no choice but to give them even a fraction of his attention.

The captain baited Mihawk, wanting to see the swordsman’s raw power for himself, even if that meant putting his crew’s lives in jeopardy. However, Mihawk wasn’t known for being temperamental, which many of these hecklers seemed to forget. A smooth swing of his sword and their ships sank to pits of the ocean floor.

When a shot was fired at you, the bullet was sliced in mid air. Though you hung around someone whose composure didn’t break, you flinched enough for the both of you. A motion back one step too far was all it took for you to lose your footing and slip into the shackles bound to you by the devil fruit. His challengers were swatted like the pests they were before he dove in after you.

Even his lectures were articulated like advice, which you accepted without protest.

He’d insist on giving you training to help you control these impulses, albeit natural, were life threatening in the wrong situations.

That being said, he obviously knew that once you were overboard, you required his full attention. He simply wanted to offer you assistance to prevent this from happening more frequently.

[natalievoncatte]

“What I did wasn’t personal,” Lena said.

Supergirl had already turned to face her. There were words formed on her lips, but Alex struck first, bringing her viper wit where it wasn’t needed or welcome.

“You had a stash of ‘Kills Kryptonians’. It’s personal,” said Alex.

Lena ignored her, looking directly at Supergirl.

“You know I’d never use it that way.”

“You kept secrets,” said Supergirl. “Secrets change things. I don’t like secrets.”

“Oh really,” Lena spat, knowing she’d regret what came next. “You don’t like secrets. Okay. What’s your real name?”

Alex flinched. Supergirl stared her down. Even in this miserable place, she was inhumanly beautiful, even if Lena was a little resentful that she’d been bitching about walking fifty yards a few moments ago, and making light of exercise, when she had the audacity to look like that.

The pause grew heavy. Something seemed to turn behind Supergirl’s eyes, like she was working something out. Her expression softened lightly.

“Why didn’t you come to me about Sam? I thought we trusted each other.”

“How can I trust you?” Lena said. “You still hold me at arm’s length, won’t let me in, only look for my help when it’s convenient for you. Maybe I should have sought your help, but it isn’t like I have you on speed dial, is it? What was I supposed to do, toss myself off a balcony and hope you were having coffee with Kara Danvers again?”

Supergirl flinched. Looking at Lena intently, she stepped closer, and Alex grew visibly nervous.

“Supergirl…” she said.

“You want to know my real name?”

“Yes,” Lena said, her voice suddenly unsteady, her palms breaking out in a sweat despite the cool, stale air. She stood her ground before a being that could level a mountain with a look and held her gaze.

“Kryptonian names are patronymics, sort of. A man’s name is his own and that of his family. So, for example, my cousin’s name is Kal-El. His father was Jor-El.”

“I knew that already,” said Lena. “Your cousin shared that an interview with Lois Lane.”

“He can share his because he has a name that was given to him by his adoptive family,” said Supergirl, her voice softening as she took another step closer. “I still use my Kryptonian first name.”

Something about that itched at Lena’s brain, but she wasn’t sure what.

“Supergirl,” Alex hissed. “You can’t… we can’t…”

Supergirl threw her a glance. “What? Trust her?” She looked at Lena. “My father was Joe-El’s brother, Zor-El. My mother’s name was Alura In-Ze.”

Lena licked her lips.

“They gave me the name Kara,” said Kara Zor-El. “On Earth, I accepted the surname of the family that took me in to raise me when my cousin gave me up to them. My full name is Kara Zor-El Danvers.”

Lena stumbled a step back, her mouth falling open comically. It felt like the ground was bursting open and swallowing her up, her stomach dropping through her knees.

No. No, no, no, no. It couldn’t be.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked away from her.”

“Look at me.”

Lena looked.

Lena saw.

Her hair was down, but Lena knew those honeyed curls. Supergirl carried herself differently- her shoulders were proud where Kara tended to hunch down, make herself small, as if to pass through the world without touching it.

Lena hadn’t really looked before. Not like this. She’d studied Kara, maybe even mooned over Kara a little until she seemed to confirm she was straight by dating that alien jackass. She knew every part of her face from her soft lips to her feel blue eyes to that funny little scar right over her eye.

How had she not seen?

“Fucking hell, Kara!” Alex snapped.

Lena’s lip trembled. She clenched her fists to keep her hands steady, knowing they were shaking.

“You tricked me,” Lena hissed, “so many times, so many ways, running off and changing into that suit when I thought you were both people. The super-speed, right?”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara, her voice soft. “Let’s just…”

“I wasn’t finished,” said Lena. “You… you told me you were having coffee with Kara, but you are Kara. Kara… you caught me when they threw me off the balcony. You risked being killed by a kryptonite explosion when Metallo went critical. You… you were… Jesus Christ, the plane, the chemicals, that was you?”

Kara’s eyes grew wider with every syllable and even in the gloom, Lena could swear she saw tears welling up within them.

“She’s risked her life for you over and over and over,” Alex said, quietly. “Her faith in you has only wavered the once. She’s always defended you and insisted on your innocence even when I was ready to throw you in a cell,” said Alex. “She defended you from the first. Shit, she defended you from Superman.”

Lena looked from one to the other, staring at them both in turn, trying to keep her wobbly legs from completely collapsing under her.

“I owe you an apology,” said Kara, raising her gaze to meet Lena’s.

“Can you two do this later?” said Alex. “We’re on a mission, here.”

Lena swallowed, hard.

“Yeah. Let’s go find Sam.”

They did find Sam, eventually, but the plan went sideways. After they were thrust back into their bodies, Supergirl -Kara- curtly told her to help Brainy while she and Alex rushed off.

So Lena helped brainy, until it was time for her to leave. Eventually, she made her way back to her penthouse, and to a glass of single malt, neat. She savored its subtleties as she stared out at the stars.

She knew this would happen sooner or later, so she wasn’t surprised when Kara touched down on the balcony, looking utterly stunning and brave and dashing in her fancy suit. She motioned to knock at the glass.

“It’s not locked.”

“Hi,” said Kara, stepping inside.

Lena looked up. “I can’t believe I didn’t see. You’re just… you, in a different outfit.”

That wasn’t exactly true, Lena knew. As she walked into Lena’s living room, Kara had neither the mousy, retiring way of Kara Danvers nor the brash swagger of Supergirl. It was like she was seeing a third person, one who’d been fully revealed for the first time.

“I’ve been going back and forth in my mind, trying to decide what parts of our friendship were real.”

“All of it,” Kara said.

“If my brother were here, he’d say that you befriended me to spy on me and use my resources and genius for your own ends.”

“That’s not true.”

Lena took a sip, and breathed in through her parted lips after swallowing to savor it.

“I know. He said the same thing about Jack, actually. Lex always tries to convince me that anyone else in my life is just after my name or money or body.”

Kara said nothing. Lena looked up.

“Just because he’s a madman who wants to gaslight me into being a supervillain doesn’t mean he’s always wrong. Does it?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“You’ve been very insistent on being my friend,” said Lena. “You practically barged into my life and broke down all my barriers with your earnest kindness, but you were keeping yourself behind another one.”

“The first time I ever saw you, I knew in my heart that you were nothing like him,” said Kara. “I remember every detail.”

“In my office, with Kent.”

“No. In the helicopter. That was the first time I saw you.”

Lena swirled the dregs in her glass. “Oh. Right.”

“I just had to know you. You were compelling, and the way you treated me in your office that day was a huge part of that. You seemed so… I don’t even know how to describe it. I just knew I had to be close to you.”

A fit of pique moved her arm before she could contain herself, and Lena threw the glass. Kara snatched it from the air and placed it on the table without spilling a drop.

She was closer now, standing within arm’s reach.

“You can’t just say things like that to me,” Lena almost hissed, her voice loosened by the whiskey and the one before and the one before that.

“Why?” said Kara.

Lena looked up, swaying slightly.

“You told me your name.”

“I should have sooner. We could have worked together. We could have done a lot of things.”

“Fuck,” Lena snapped. “You’re doing it again! Knock it off?”

“Knock what off?”

“You goddamn well what,” said Lena. “Or maybe you really don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara. “I just don’t understand. Can you… do you want to tell me what you mean?”

“I… sit down.”

Kara swept her cape aside and sat primly in a side chair, folding her hands in her lap, worrying at the back of her thumb with her other thumb. God, she even had Kara’s mannerisms.”

“I’m gay,” said Lena.

Kara swallowed. “But… you were with Jack… and James… and you really seem to like the letter J,” Kara said, lamely.

“It’s called bisexuality, Kara. It’s a thing.”

“Oh, I um, I don’t really get ‘sexualities.’ On Krypton, we didn’t have sexual preferences. We didn’t choose our partners at all, everything was arranged.”

“That sounds awful,” said Lena.

Kara looked away. “It was our way and it worked. We had stable families, and most people had a kind of love. My parents loved each other.”

Lena sighed. “I wish I could say that. One of my parents didn’t love anyone but himself. Your sister is gay, Kara. How can you not understand it?”

“I understand that. I just find the whole thing confusing, and overwhelming. I keep looking for this spark that everyone talks about, and these ‘gut feelings’, but every time I think I’ve had it, it wasn’t right.”

“It seemed right with Mon-El. Oh. Oh Jesus. You banished your own boyfriend from Earth.”

Kara shook her head. “I know it did. I thought it did. I just never… it was the idea of him. I was checking a box. I was with him to have a boyfriend, not to have him. We’re really different people.”

“Why are we talking about this again?” said Lena.

Kara suddenly looked nervous, and thus even more like herself.

“I don’t know. It just seems to have happened. Kind of like our whole friendship. I never made a plan to be your friend. I never had an agenda. I just needed you in my life without knowing why. You just bring me joy.”

Lena wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream.

You big indestructible goof, that is the spark!

“I should have told you about me after Medusa. I should have trusted you then, but Alex talked me out of it. I didn’t push past when it counted. I know you doubt how much you mean to me now, and I’m so sorry I did that.”

“I’d never hurt you, ever,” said Lena. “Even if you weren’t Kara. But I could never hurt her. You.”

“I know.

“For what it’s worth,” said Lena. “I felt it too. That pull, that need to know you. That’s why I allowed you to get close to me instead of being bundled off by my security. I felt it from the first, that day you came to my office. I might have felt it a little during the helicopter crash, too.”

Kara nodded.

“I feel like there’s something we’re both not saying.”

Lena licked her lips.

“I have to stop the worldkillers. I have to save Sam. I have to fix it all. I just needed to talk to you first. See you first, see you again, just the two of us.”

Lena nodded, swallowing.

“I guess I should go.”

Lena wanted to tell her not to. To ask her to spend the night, change out of that ridiculous suit, to just be Kara and stay with her, but it dawned on her now that it could never be quite like that again. Kara was Supergirl and Supergirl had to be shared with the world.

“I want to help. I’ll come to the DEO.”

“Okay,” said Kara. “I’ll see you there.”

She stood up and walked to the balcony, pausing before she opened the door. She didn’t turn when she spoke, as if she was afraid to face Lena, to face the answer.

“Do you think, when this is over, we can try it again? Try to fix it?”

“Is that something you want?” Said Lena.

“That pull is still there.”

“I know,” said Lena. “I feel it too.”

Kara’s shoulders rose and fell, as if she’d just rolled a great burden from her back.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’ll see you back at the DEO. Goodnight, Lena.”

“Goodnight, Kara.”

She slid the balcony door open and stepped out, pausing for just the briefest second before lifting off, sending a gentle gust of chilly night air rolling into Lena’s penthouse.

Lena let the breeze flow in for a while before she stood up and went to the door, meaning to close it. Instead, she stepped outside, leaning on the railing as the chill raised gooseflesh on her arms.

“I feel it, too.”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Day 8: Masturbation

Warnings: Smut, masturbation (m + f), fingering (f receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Kinktober

After trying so hard with the relationship you finally gave up, ending it with him, you just couldn't take the arguing and the distance and the this and the that, it was just all too much for you and you couldn't do it anymore.

Axl still loved you, anyone he loved, he loved hard and he couldn't let it go, so he let you stay with him. He'd leave money around for you to find, hoping you'd just take it and not question him on it or something, he'd bring you gifts by just leaving them on your pillow or somewhere else in your room for you to find.

He'd never give you anything himself, both because he didn't want to come off as needy or clingy but also because he couldn't risk you rejecting it.

Axl loved you, and while he loved giving you gifts he just needed you sometimes. Bad.

It was late, you were at work and Axl was alone in bed, alone... His mind was wandering and soon so was his hand.

He reached for his nightstand, pulling out the drawer and taking the lotion and pictures of you he save out. He pumped some of the lotion onto his hand, his boxers long tossed aside, and started stroking his half hard cock.

With his other hand he looked through the pictures of you he'd kept, most weren't sexual, there was the odd one or two, most were just pictures of you he had.

He didn't want to get over you, you were so pretty, your personality was everything he could want and more and he just had to go and fuck it up.

His hand moved faster as he stared at that picture of you standing in front of the Eiffel tower. You wore a flowy dress with a slit in the leg, puffy sleeves and a sunhat, large glasses and that smile he couldn't get enough of.

You didn't want to take the picture, Paris was so over romanticized and people were staring, mostly at Axl, but he thought you looked so perfect, he needed to capture the moment and the wind added to the moment in the best way.

"Axl..?" You muttered from the door, yanking Axl from his thoughts just as he was about to cum, his body hot, chest heaving and his head rolled back.

His eyes widened as he saw you standing in the doorway of his room, eyes filled with tears as you stared at him in his hand.

You quickly made your way across the room and over his lap, not before getting out of your work pants and underwear, lips crashing down on his.

Axl's arms wrapped around you, holding you close and kissing you deeply. Despite everything in his being telling him to keep going he had to pull away, make sure you were ok. "What-what happened..?" He asked through laboured breaths.

"I-I just had... a really, really bad day... do this for me." Your hand went down to your already wet cunt, rubbing your clit in loose circles.

You tried to lean back into the kiss but Axl held you back. "I wanna watch." That sentence alone got you hotter than any of the other assholes you'd seen had managed to make you.

Axl's hand went back to himself, watching your hips twitch and buck into your hand, slim fingers working fast as your eyes flickered over him, his chest rising and falling, dark eyes staring intently. He couldn't get enough of you like this.

"Slow down." He purred, holding off on his own high. "You and I both know you don't like that." You slowed your movements, moaning out at the sensations it creating deep within you.

Why did he have to know you so well?

He kept giving you instructions, it was all laced in love but edged with degrading terms and a tone of mockery. "This is your own fucking body, why are you so shit at doing this?" He grumbled.

You huffed, tears rolling down your eyes. All you wanted was him at this point, your hand was never gonna be enough, not when he was right here with you. "Then you do it!" You whined, moving off his lap and folding your arms over your chest, sniffling softly.

Axl stared at you a moment, hand stopping on his length.

He snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his side, hand going down to rub your clit. He leaned down to you, lips caressing the shell of your ear. "Just relax, let me do it."

[marino6hughes]

IF SHE WANTS A COWBOY

ׂ╰┈➤ luke hughes x reader

summary: in which luke hughes wants to be your cowboy.

note: this is really short and my first time writting! enjoy.

warnings: fluff, childhood best friends to lovers.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━��━━━

Ever since you were little, you and Luke have been inseparable. Moving next door to the Hughes family meant spending countless afternoons out on the lake or out playing hockey on their drive way. Your friendship was the kind that weathered through all seasons. Over the years, the bond you shared only deepened, rooted in a shared history and an unspoken understanding that, no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you loved each other.

Luke's feelings for his childhood best friend had grown into something deeper, something he kept close to his heart. His love was silent but strong. He told no one about it. Not even his brothers. His love for you could be clearly seen and everyone knew was there even when nothing was told. He'd go to any lengths to make you smile, which was exactly what he was doing now. If you wanted to go line dancing with him he would be your dam cowboy.

She wants a cowboy, so I just might

Find me some boots that fit me right

You looked at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes, enthusiasm as contagious as your smile. "Come on, it'll be a fun!" you insisted, tugging at his arm gently. He raised an eyebrow, skeptical about the whole line dancing idea. Noticing his hesitation, you playfully rolled your eyes and promised, "I'll teach you all the steps, and if you really hate it, we can leave, no questions asked." with a reluctant chuckle, he agreed. "Alright, but only because it's you asking," he said, and you beamed, wholly satisfied with your small victory. You were so in love with this boy.

I ain't never rode a horse

Or worn a cowboy hat

But I find me one that fits my head

Your boots clattered against the brick steps as you walked up to the bars entrance. The sound of music and people talking, and the sound of boots dancing could be heard as you approached the two large doors. It was a warm summer night in Michigan.

You pushed open the door, instantly being greeted with the smell of whiskey and a sight of a whole lot of cowboy hats.

“Will a drink ease your nerves?” You turned to Luke a cowboy hat perched on his head. His brown curls peaking out from underneath it.

He smiles, softly. “I think it might- it’ll at least get me on the dance floor, right?”

“That it will do” You laugh slightly claiming two chairs at the bar top.

He takes a seat beside you, his shoulders brushing against yours for a brief moment as he settles into his chair. He stares at you for a moment as the dimly lit bar makes your skin glow, long brown hair pushed away from your face with two braids. You looked fucking beautiful to him.

“Can’t get you too drunk cowboy or you really wont be able to dance.” You laugh nudging his shoulder.

A roguish smirk forms at the corner of his lips as he leans in slightly. His lips brushing against your ear "Don't worry about me. I can handle my alcohol," He reassures you with a cocky tone, his voice lowering. "It's my dancing skills that might need the extra practice," He admits half-jokingly.

Seeing him in denim jeans with brown cowboy boots that fit perfect on his long legs, a white shirt that looks almost made for him as it stretches around his biceps and a cowboy hat. It was too much for you. Any second your heart would tell you to act on your desires.

As the lively country music filled the air, Luke and you stepped onto the dance floor with a mix of excitement and nerves. You were already moving with a natural rhythm as you’ve done this before, your steps confident as your boots hit the wood floor. Luke, on the other hand, was a bit more hesitant, his movements awkward as he tried to keep up. occasionally tripping over his own feet while muttering hushed curses. His cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement as he glanced at you. You flashed him a reassuring smile and reached out to guide his hands to the right positions. "Just follow my lead," you laughed, pulling him into the dance. Step by step, he began to catch on, your laughter blending with the music as you slowly found rhythm together. It was a new experience for Luke, but with you by his side, he felt like he could eventually master any dance. And he would for you.

And I learned to two step so I can spin her

Off her pretty little country feet

If she wants a cowboy then I'll be as cowboy

As the song picked up pace, Luke felt a surge of confidence. With a cheeky grin, he took your hand and spun you around gracefully. you laughed, lose strands of your hair flying out of from your braids as you twirled under his arm. For a moment, Luke felt like as if you were the only two people in the world. As you came back into his arms, your eyes sparkled with amusement, and you both couldn't help but laugh, caught up in the joy and exhilaration of the dance.

In the midst of your laughter and twirling, You could tell Luke was caught up in the moment and feeling bolder than usual, he blurted out, "I want to be your cowboy!" His words hung in the air, a playful yet sincere declaration that seemed to make the music pause for a second. You paused mid-step, surprise quickly melting into a warm smile. It was Luke's spontaneous confession that made you pause dancing, “You wanna be my cowboy?”

Find me a horse that I can cover

Find me some stars to sleep under

Find me a train, I'll hop out west

If she wants a cowboy, I'll cowboy the best

“Fuck.” He breathed. “I do, I want all of you.” He confessed looking down at you.

What the fuck. You thought.

His fingers grazed over your blush pink cheeks as he held your face, “I need you.”

You looked up at him, his 6’2 body towering over you. You searched his eyes looking for a sign, anything. His brown eyes tinted a light green seemed to carry a desire and by the way they stared back at you. You could tell he was slightly nervous.

As the song neared its end, Luke leaned in closer, his eyes locking with yours in a moment filled with anticipation. The playful energy that had surrounded you all night seemed to quiet down, replaced by a tender vulnerability. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair that had fallen from your face, his touch light but filled with intent, his fingers then grazed your cheekbone. Then, slowly, he leaned down to your level, “Can i kiss you?”. He whispered, you nodded as he connected your lips. You kissed him back. It was a soft, careful kiss, as he savored the moment with you. It held a promise of something more profound. The bar you were currently in seemed to fade away, and in the moment it was just the two of you lips connected by a kiss that spoke louder than words.

If you wanted a cowboy, he would be yours.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Vincent tending to Chidi’s wounds when a medical professional isn’t near (with Vincent surprisingly having good knowledge on wounds) has always been on my mind and I thought to share with you ^_^

Anyways here’s a crappy screenshot of them because aaaaaaaaaaaaaa Chidi looks so small😭

Thank you so much for this ask! This ended up being almost chapter-length and I may use snippets of it in Those Who Have Something to Live For later on, oops!!

Also, small hearts for small chidi: 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

-⚜- I Want to Be Next to You -⚜-

TW: gunshot wound, discussion of self-sacrifice

The first thing Chidi noticed was the red pouring out of Vincent’s shoulder. The second thing he noticed was how fast he was breathing.

He didn’t say anything, just staggered back against the wall with alarmingly wide eyes almost rolling back in his head - that look of unspeakable terror that Chidi had seen only a few times in his service with Vincent.

Chidi was across the balcony and in contact with Vincent almost instantly, gripping both arms to slow his fall and guide him to the ground. Their legs folded under them in unison, almost gracefully, like two swans landing on water. And they both felt they were drifting on something like water, suddenly floating above a terrible, murky depth. Their eyes were locked together, mirroring each other’s desperation. “C'est bon [It’s okay],” he whispered, low enough to reach only Vincent.

He didn’t respond at first. Then, as if without breathing, “Non, ce n'est pas le cas, ils putain… ils… [No it’s not, they fucking…they…]”

Chidi couldn’t contradict him. They had been ambushed. A particularly crucial client had insisted on meeting Vincent on “neutral ground,” without much backup, in a remote villa. As he had feared, it was merely a ruse to make an attempt on Vincent’s life. And Chidi hadn’t stopped it…they’d laid hands on Vincent, they’d put metal in him…

“Get a medic, and arrange evacuation,” he barked over his shoulder, without breaking eye contact with Vincent. Chidi was scary like this.

The ground around them was littered with bodies. Only two other guards survived – and the enemy was demolished. One of those guards hesitated. “What should I tell them about the deal, sir? And the ambush?”

“I don’t care! I’m going to stay with my ward! GO!” My ward. Vincent was the ward of all the bodyguards, but Chidi didn’t say our. No, at moments like this, it became clearer than ever that Vincent was his responsibility in a way that none of the other Myrmadons shared.

In another moment, they were alone.

“Chidi…” It wasn’t the beginning of a question, it was an inarticulate plea. Vincent’s head was lolling from one side to the other against the wall, in danger of knocking against it from how badly he was shaking.

“Je suis là. [I’m here.]” He lowered him the rest of the way down, not against the hard marble, but into his lap, elevating the wounded shoulder above the rest of his body. Overwhelmed by the mixture of shock and human contact, he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes for half a second before staring desperately up at Chidi again. It was a magnetic look, impossible to break away from. Help me, it was saying. Chidi obeyed.

“Je vais vous attacher un garrot maintenant, monsieur. Cela signifie que je vais attacher un morceau de tissu autour de votre épaule. Cela pourrait faire mal mais je vais essayer d’être rapide. [I’m going to tie you a tourniquet now, sir. This means I’m going to tie a piece of cloth around your shoulder. It might hurt but I’ll try to be quick.]” For once, he was the one chattering away, trying to fill the silence, to keep Vincent’s mind from running away with him. He kept his breathing as steady as he could, and his face expressionless. He had to be the rock right now, something to hold onto.

He took off his suitcoat and then ripped off his shirt sleeve from underneath, tying it around Vincent’s shoulder. As it squeezed the muscles around the wound, Vincent went even paler, panting in an effort not to scream. Even at a time like this, he didn’t want to look weak. It made Chidi’s heart twist. “Vous allez bien, monsieur. [You’re doing well, sir.]” He wasn’t. He was starting to hyperventilate, and it really concerned Chidi. “Peux-tu respirer avec moi, lentement ? De la même manière que je respire. [Can you breathe with me, slowly? The same way I’m breathing.]”

The Marquis struggled for a moment, staring at Chidi’s chest. He saw another wave of fear rise up behind Vincent’s eyes as he lost control. “Je – je ne peux pas – [I – I can’t – ]”

“Ce n'est pas grave alors. Continuez simplement d’essayer et concentrez-vous sur ma voix. Je vais faire pression sur toi pour arrêter le saignement maintenant, d'accord ? Et je continuerai à faire ça jusqu’à ce que l’aide arrive. [That’s okay then. Just keep trying and focus on my voice. I’m going to press on you to stop the bleeding now, okay? And I’ll keep doing that until help comes.]” Chidi did his best not to talk too fast, not to let the panic affect his voice. He felt like breaking down – seeing Vincent like this was too much. But he had to be reassuring for him.

“…d’accord… ça prend combien de temps? […okay…how long with that take?]”

“Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Pas longtemps. [I don’t know, sir. Not long.]” He lowered his hands over the wound and pressed down as hard as he could. Vincent made an awful, strangled sound. Even through the pressure, Chidi could feel how badly he was shivering. “Attendez, faisons ça aussi. [Wait, let’s do this too.]” He took his hands off the wound long enough to throw his coat over Vincent’s chest, and then pressed down again. Vincent snuggled involuntarily into the warmth, the shivering subsiding a little. After the initial pain of Chidi’s strength against his shoulder again, he relaxed into it. Then, following a long moment of hesitance, his hand rested on top of Chidi’s.

“Merci.” He stroked along Chidi’s hand just the way he would if they were just resting in bed together after making love.

“Bien sûr. [Of course.]”

His eyes were closed again and suddenly Chidi worried he might lose consciousness.

“Hé, pouvez-vous continuer à me regarder monsieur ? Reste éveillé s'il te plait. [Hey, can you keep looking at me sir? Stay awake please.]”

Vincent wrenched his eyelids open with what seemed a very great effort. “Parlez-moi alors. [Talk to me then.]” It was an order, but spoken so quietly, so vulnerably.

“D’accord.” Chidi thought for a moment. “Tu sais, j'ai appris la médecine de campagne pour toi. J'ai pris des cours le soir, pendant mon temps libre. Parce que si jamais tu étais bloqué comme ça, je voulais être sûr de pouvoir t'aider. [You know, I learned field medicine for you. I took lessons in the evenings, during my leisure time. Because if you were ever stranded like this, I wanted to make sure I could help you.]”

Vincent swallowed. “Je ne le savais pas. Je…te remercie. [I didn’t know that. I…thank you.]” His hand was stroking idly against Chidi’s, with deep affection, soothing both himself and his lover at once. He was getting into that zoned out space that he entered sometimes, when he was hurt or very sick. A space that forced his deeply defended heart to open a little.

“Ce n'était pas un problème, monsieur. Je suis content de l’avoir fait. [It was no trouble, sir. I’m glad I did.]”

“Je suis… je suis content que tu sois là. Peut-être… peut-être que je dramatise mais… [I’m…I’m glad you’re here. Maybe…maybe I’m being dramatic but…]” He went silent for a long time, so long that Chidi almost thought he was passing out. But he wasn’t. “Si je meurs, je veux qu'il soit à côté de toi. [If I die, I want it be next to you.]”

Chidi’s throat tightened. He looked away at the sunset, waves of pink and gold crashing down over jagged mountains. But it wasn’t half as beautiful as Vincent, so he looked back. “Si je meurs, je veux que ce soit pour vous, monsieur. Mais je préfère que nous vivions tous les deux. [If I die, I want it to be for you, sir. But I’d rather we both live.]”

Vincent didn’t answer for a long time, and when he did, it was in a rush, with his voice dropping quieter and quieter until Chidi could barely hear him.  “Je préfère ça aussi, ces jours-ci. Il y a quelques instants, quand on m'a tiré dessus, j'ai réalisé que… Pour une fois, je n'avais pas peur parce que j'étais seule, mais parce que je voulais continuer à vivre. Je veux être à côté de toi. [I’d rather that too, these days. A few moments ago, when I was shot, I realized that…For once, I wasn’t scared because I was alone, but because I want to keep living. I want to be next to you.]”

You will. You always will. “Je serai toujours à vos côtés, monsieur. [I will always be by your side, sir.]” Chidi wrapped himself around Vincent’s body, giving him all of his warmth, all of his presence, all of himself. For life.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

@hammerhead96 I AM BITING THIS! I am so sorry it took 45 years <3

Anselm Vogelweide x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You paint Anselm's portrait.

Warnings: Fluff, Anselm has siblings here, I'm just making stuff up, little bit of jealous!Anselm, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2311

“Stop moving.” You glare politely at Anselm over the canvas.  

He smiles sweetly at you from his position on the chair in the middle of the room. The large floor length curtains are drawn, letting in the late morning sunshine. He’s sat at a slight three quarter angle, his scared side facing you. 

It had been his sister that had commissioned you, Adela Vogelweide, a gift for his birthday. The fact that she’d chosen you had surprised you. You knew she had enough personal wealth to hire practically anyone in the world for whatever exorbitant amount they wanted and still consider it small change. 

Adela had seen some of your pieces at a local gallery showing, the curator an old friend of yours, where she had quite loudly enquired about the price of your largest landscape. Paid three times the asking amount, and then said it was still undervalued. 

She had called you up personally after convincing your friend to let her use their phone. The first words she’d spoken to you when you picked up were, “Why are you underselling yourself?” 

Adela was brazen and kind, with a quick temper she had never directed at you. She dyed her hair black, something she delighted in telling you, except for two streaks that framed her face, those she kept in her natural grey. She had also delighted herself in telling you all about her older brother Anselm, and what a nuisance he was, a rapscallion, but a loveable one. And wouldn’t you be a dear and paint his portrait? 

This was your fourth sitting.

“You said I could move a little, my dear?” He gives you a cheeky grin. 

You poke your head around the canvas again, purposefully benign a little more dramatic than you truly need to be, because you know it amuses him. 

“Emphasis on a little.” 

His smile widens. “Am I moving too much?” He feigns innocence badly. 

You give him a look. “Yes. Stop fidgeting.” 

“My leg.” He pouts, and rubs his thigh. 

“Anselm.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“That leg is not the one with your brace on.” 

He chuckles and then quickly puts on a mock serious expression. “Can’t my other leg hurt? My, my, this is most uncaring of you, and here I thought you such a sweet person.” 

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?” You carry on painting, adding a little shading. Most of the sittings so far were just to get a feel for him as a subject. You’d completed several rough sketches and paintings, and taken umteenth reference photos. 

“I don’t think so, my dear, I’m a very good judge of character.” 

“Would you say that runs in the family?” You ask nonchalantly. 

“How so?” 

“Is Adela a good judge of character?” 

He pauses for a moment and then nods, “She is.” 

“She warned me about you.” You say offhandedly and Anselm cackles with glee.

“Did she?” 

“She did.” 

“How marvellous. Did she tell you I’m a wretched and depraved lust filled bloodthirsty tyrant?” 

You pause, “No.”

“What did she say?” He strokes his beard slightly.

“That you were cheeky.” 

He tuts. “Now, that is a gross misrepresentation, I will have to have words with her.” 

“Don’t get me in trouble.” You giggle. 

“Now, now, my dear. She’ll most likely tell me off for some reason, probably for my playful, but oh so charming treatment of you, wouldn’t you say?” 

You give him another look and he laughs. 

“You disagree?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ah, but I must. You haven’t said one kind thing to me all morning.” He folds his arms, pretending to huff. 

“First, that is untrue, second, stop moving.” 

He grins, “My apologies,” and puts his arms back down. “My dear Adela does love to scold me, despite being the younger sibling. You would think she was twelve years my senior, not junior… It is the different father I think.” He smiles fondly. 

“You have different fathers?” 

He nods, “You are enquiring about the surname yes?” 

You nod as well. 

“Well, my mother is Magdalena Vogelwiede, the only child of my grandfather who lived past infancy. She kept the family name and refused to change it when she married, not that any of her husbands would have dared to argue with her, besides all of them coveted the prestige of being part of the Vogelwiede family. All of her children were given her last name.”

“Do you have other siblings?” You ask, still holding your paintbrush but you have given up most pretences of actually working. The way he talked was almost hypnotic. Soothing. You could happily listen for hours. 

“I do, I had an older brother, Wilhelm, who died very young. When my father died, my mother remarried and had Adela and Helena. She divorced my step-father when Helena was two, shame, as I was quite fond of him. She didn’t marry the father of my youngest sister, Libeste. But that was a very good thing, he was a terrible bore.”

You smile, delighting in the fondness in his expression. “Is she still with us?” 

He nods, “She is, going very strong. She lives in Italy with her suitor, a toy boy.”

“Toy boy?” You snort. 

“He’s only sixty eight.” He chuckles. 

“Scandalous.” You grin. 

“I like him very much, his name is Alvin, like the chipmunks. Which is what he said to me the first time I met him, a very sweet man, utterly besotted with my mother, the poor fool.”

“The poor fool?”

“She bullies him so,” Anselm sighs fondly, “But he does love it. So I think they are meant to be with each other.” 

You barely manage another five minutes of painting before Anselm has to take an emergency meeting. He apologises profusely and kisses your hand when you leave. You do your best to hide your giddiness when his lips touch your skin.

The following Thursday you’re back at his house, mansion, just about to get out of your car when your phone rings. Adela. 

You press accept. “Hello, Adela.” 

“My darling, how are you? Are you well?” Her voice practically purrs on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, you?” 

“Fine, fine, listen, I am having a small get together tomorrow night, I will send a car for you. Yes?” 

“I,” You pause, ever so slightly taken aback. “Well…”

“You are free of course?” 

“Well, I was going to work on the portrait-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you have plenty of time, I understand art works can take years.”

“I don’t think it’ll take me years, I mean-”

“See? You are already ahead of schedule then my darling, 8pm the car will come. It’s a small thing, barely a hundred people, casual dress. And I mean it, wear jeans and a t-shirt if you want, or nothing at all.”

You open your mouth to speak and close it again as she continues.

“I simply must introduce you to my son. Anyway, see you then, ciao!” 

She hangs up before you can even say a word. 

You’re setting up in the ground floor study when Anselm comes in. His expression is stormy, you would almost say bleak if it wasn’t for the hard look in his eyes. 

He sits on the chair without his usual exuberance, muttering a quiet “Good morning.” 

You pause, still setting up your easel. Part of you isn’t sure if you know him well enough to ask about what’s bothering him, even though he’s been nothing but forthcoming and charming with you. You swallow down your anxiety.

“Are you okay?” 

“Hmm,” he nods and doesn’t look at you.”Perfectly well.” 

You bite your thumbnail nervously, but don’t ask again. You set up the rest of your equipment in silence. 

The quiet is odd. You realise you’re so used to hearing him talk, to being swept up in his tales that now the room seems hollow and barren without them. Cold and sterile. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, echoes sickeningly. 

Nothing seems to be going quite right, your colours are wrong, the shape irregular. 

You’ve been working for around twenty minutes when Anselm finally talks. 

“Has my sister invited you yet?” He’s a little gruff, a huff in his voice.

“I’m sorry?” You look up from your work.

“Invited you… to her gathering tomorrow?” 

“Oh, erm,” You stumble over your words, the hard look he gives you is practically alien, so unlike his usual smiles. “Yes, she called me just as I got here.” 

Anselm’s expression hardens. For a moment you don’t think he’s going to speak again. “She wants you to meet David, her eldest.” 

You pause, not sure if you should reply, but you do anyway. “Yeah, erm, she mentioned it briefly… not that I really got a word in.” You laugh weakly, maybe he was annoyed at how long it was taking you to start on the painting? “Honestly, I was planning on working on your portrait, but I didn’t really get a chance to refuse the invitation.” 

He hums again, sighing and slumps down a little in his chair. “He got divorced last year, you know?” 

It takes you a full minute to realise he’s talking about David. 

“Clean break, his ex-wife was very reasonable. No children.” He sighs again, “A perfectly eligible bachelor.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his curls in a completely different direction. 

“Anselm,” you tut, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, you walk around the easel and towards him, your hand outreached to fix his hair before you catch yourself. You stop, pausing right in front of him.

He looks up at you with soft eyes. “I apologise, my love. I did not mean to disrupt your work with my bad mood.” 

“It’s alright,” you smile slightly, “We all get annoyed.” 

“I’m sure you are rapturous in anger, all dragon fire and destruction.” 

You snort. “I am not.” 

He smiles and leans forward, pressing his head towards your hand. “I am sorry I disturbed my hair.” 

“It’s fine,” you lightly run your fingers through his curls, careful not to catch or pull as you move it back into its previous style. You motion for him to sit back so that you can position the last few rogue strands. You touch his hair for a little longer than absolutely necessary, swallowing as you press your fingers deeper. 

Anselm breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and presses closer to your touch. 

“Is your nephew getting engaged or something, does Adela want me to paint a portrait of him too? Is that why I’m invited?” You ask innocently as you finally adjust his hair to your liking. You drop your hand to your side, a little disappointed that you no longer have a reason to touch him.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring up at you with a small frown. “My sweet, are you being serious, or pulling my leg? Because if it is the latter, I must say it is poor form considering my injury.” He motions a little dramatically to his brace.

“What?” You shrug a little, trying to work out what the hell he’s on about.

A small smile pulls at his lips when he realises you are being sincere. “My dear Adela wants to set you up with David, tomorrow is a formal introduction of sorts.” 

You pause, a little dumbfounded and Anselm chuckles. 

“My, the look on your face, you do not seem pleased.” He, however, is the happiest you have seen him all morning. 

“Here,” Anselm stands, “I’ll get my assistant to bring you a photo of David,” the tease in his voice is undeniable. “So that you may gaze about the face of your future beloved.” 

You finally find your voice. “Anselm.” You scold.

He grins wickedly, turning to face you fully. “I do love it when you use that tone with me, my sweet. Admonishing me does suit you.” He steps a fraction closer, raising his hand to lightly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I would happily die a thousand deaths to be under your thumb.” 

You swallow. “I don’t want you to die a thousand deaths… or be under my thumb.” You say softly, trying to say that you want him safe and alive and of his own strange but endearing free will.

But Anselm’s expression falls and he lowers his hand, mistaking your words for rejection. “I apologise again-”

Panic grips your chest and you blurt out the first thing that comes into your head. “But you can be under me if you want… as in…” Heat rolls over your face and you screw up your eyes. 

He laughs happily, stepping closer again so that you are chest to chest. He lightly traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “May I kiss you, my love?” 

With a giddy rush of energy, you lean forward and press your mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss. Anselm moans happily, wrapping one arm around you. When you break the kiss he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Please forgive my foul mood earlier, I was… distressed.” 

“Why?” You tease, a sugar rush of happiness overtaking you. 

“Because I thought you were going to spend the rest of your days riding my nephew instead of me.” 

You snort, unable to stop yourself, and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Oh no, please, let me hear you laugh.” He gently takes your wrist and litters your cheeks with kisses, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Well, I’ll have to let Adela know there’s no need for me to go tomorrow.” 

Anselm tuts and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, my love, I think it will be much more exciting to turn up on my arm and then proceed to make out messily on every available surface.” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes ho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

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@musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @howellatme @sapphossongbird

[hoshiputa]

Cyber

💌 woozi x female reader

📩 Request: Phone sex with Woozi.

cw: nsfw, smut, established relationship, pet names (babygirl, princess, etc), masturbation, exhibitionism

word count: 1.2k

It was past midnight when your phone started ringing. You grabbed as fast as you could, because you already knew who it was.

Lee Jihoon. Your beloved, hard working, super famous boyfriend.

He usually called at that time when he was at the studio, because that was when he had a break. The only difference today was that it was a video call instead of the usual late night voice calls.

“Hi, babe!”

“Hello.”

Jihoon immediately smiled at you through the screen, the well known blue lightning of his studio making him look as beautiful as ever. His phone was set at the perfect angle, showing off his muscled arms.

“What's with the video call?” You asked. “Not that I'm complaining.”

It was always good to see him, of course. Especially when he had been away for days like this, working day and night to produce another masterpiece for his group, unable to come back home for you.

“I wanted to see your face,” he said softly.

“Aww, I miss you!”

You rolled around in your bed, kicking your feet in the air like the main character of a teenage movie talking to their crush for the first time.

“What are you doing? Did you eat?” Jihoon asked.

“I was just watching some Netflix. And yes, I had dinner. What about you?”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“I ate instant noodles,” he confessed.

“Lee Jihoon! What did I tell you?!”

“It was just this time. Please forgive me.”

Staring at your boyfriend through your phone screen, you felt your heart ache. You hadn't seen each other in a week and it was starting to make you feel sad.

“And how was your day?” You asked him.

“It was nice… I just stayed here for the most part of it.”

Jihoon giggled, like being trapped in a music studio for the whole week wasn't a complete nightmare like most people thought

“You're the only person I know who doesn't complain about work.”

“What can I say? I like what I do.”

Jihoon leaned against his chair, pushing it back a little just so the screen could show up from his thighs to his face. It was unusual, because normally his video calls were filled with awkward close ups of his face.

“Sir, are you trying to seduce me?!”

Jihoon giggled, the kind of laugh he let out every time he did have something up his sleeve.

“Actually, I have something to show you.”

“What is it?”

Not even intense therapy through the twenty years of your life would've prepared you to watch your boyfriend pull out his cock on camera. Your jaw dropped at the sight, his length standing up hard and nice as he smirked at you through the screen.

“What— Jihoon! What?”

You had no words, so you just kept staring at the screen. Mouth watering, body heat going up, thighs clenching as you sat up on your bed.

“I've been missing you,” he said, hands wrapping around his length. “This much.”

“Oh, God.”

You rolled around on your bed, screaming into your pillow as you held tight against your phone.

“I was jerking off to one of your pictures, and then I thought… We could make it better.”

There was this thing. With Jihoon's busy schedules and all of the time you two had to spend away from each other, both of you agreed to share and save each other's nudes.

“I can't stop staring at your dick.”

You chuckled awkwardly, being washed over by the memories of Jihoon on top of you, his cock stretching you out and hitting just right. It wasn't fair you had to be away from him.

“So… Can you take your clothes off for me?”

You weren't the exhibitionist type. To be honest, you weren't any type before Jihoon — just some boring random girl. Then he came into your life and showed you his ways, and now you were addicted. So you didn't think twice before ripping your clothes off so fast it made Jihoon giggle.

Laying on bed, you lifted up your phone, showing off your naked body for him.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” Jihoon said, hand slightly stroking his dick.

It wasn't just missing him. And it wasn't just desire and lust. You actually yearned for him. Not only his body, but hearing those nice words coming straight out of his mouth and being whispered to your ears, his soft hands touching all over your body, wrapping around your neck.

“I miss you so much,” you whined.

“I miss you too, babygirl,” he sighed. “I wish I could be there to spread you out and fuck you senseless.”

“Shit, don't say that.”

“Why? Am I making you wet?”

For someone who wasn't into exhibitionism, you for sure felt the urge to touch yourself to make Jihoon know how much you missed him. And it was sinful, to say the least. To wrap your fingers around your hardened nipples and watch Jihoon touch his hardened dick, biting his lip as you showed off like you were his favorite movie star.

“Fuck, you know how much I love those tits, right?” He asked, voice hoarse.

Of course you knew it. You knew it because every time Jihoon got you naked, he sucked on your nipples like his life depended on it. And oh, how you missed his mouth on your skin.

“What about spreading your legs for me? Will you show me your cunt?”

Hearing Jihoon asking so nicely and calmly for something so dirty made you gasp softly, reminiscing all of the times it was his hands spreading your legs open for him to dive into your wet pussy and suck on your juices like it was his favorite drink. When you opened your legs and leaned against your bed frame, Jihoon let out a soft moan as he pressed his thumb against the tip of his cock.

“That's right, you're such a good girl,” he smirked through the screen.

You watched as Jihoon started stroking his cock a little faster, biting his lip as he watched your naked body. It felt good to know he needed you that much, so much only a picture wasn't enough. Your head ran over all of the times you had his fingers inside you, playing with your cunt just to tease you. All of the times he fucked deep into you as you begged for more.

“Are you touching yourself, babe? Let me see it,” he said, now slowly stroking his cock.

You hadn't noticed your free hand slipped in between your legs, because you were lost in thoughts about having Jihoon's muscled arms around you.

“I— Can't help it,” you said, slightly embarrassed.

“It's okay,” he smiled at you. “I'd love to watch you fuck yourself.”

You bit your lip at his words, fingers pressing against your clit as you moved them in circles. You thought about Jihoon and how he was perfect with his hands, his soft fingers plunging into your cunt.

“That's perfect, babe. We can do it together.”

Your head was spinning when you buried two of your fingers inside your wet cunt, the phone in your other hand showing Jihoon's eagerness as he stroked his cock faster.

“You want this cock?”

“Yes.”

You whined, gasping as your fingers fucked into your cunt. The only problem was they weren't as thick and good as Jihoon.

“I want your pussy too, babe,” he said. “You always take my cock so well.”

Jihoon gasped, biceps flexing as he moved his hand faster and faster around his leaking length.

“Yeah, I love your cock,” you moaned, fingers brushing against your own walls.

“Oh, my love, you look so good when you're desperate for my cock.”

Jihoon leaned back against his chair, hand working even faster and harder around his thick cock.

“I wish I could be coming all over you now,” he said.

Your toes curled and your legs clenched, the way Jihoon always painted you with his warm cum imprinted into your brain.

“I'd treat you just right, my princess,” he let out a gasp. “Let you ride my cock just how you like it.”

“Fuck, Jihoon!” You whined, back arching against your bed.

“Are you going to come? From watching me jerking off to you?”

“Yes!” You moaned.

It didn't take long. The mix of Jihoon's words, the sight of his beautiful cock and your fingers stretching you out, your orgasm hit so hard you rolled your eyes and let your phone fall from your hand. From the noises you heard from Jihoon, you were sure he had finally come too. Laying on your side, you grabbed the phone to watch a messed up Jihoon staring back at you. There were strands of his hair falling on his face and his breathing was just as hard as yours.

“That was so fucking hot,” he said in between sighs.

“Oh my God, I love you,” you confessed.

“I love you too, babe.”

[yallthemwitches]

The Best Fun

Super silly, short fic for @jilytoberfest Day 6: Food disasters

Because we all know Sirius would be the one to experiment with muggle drugs~ AO3 link here!

“Prongs—don’t be angry.”

Peter stood with his back against the Fat Lady who screamed at him to be unhanded. His arms were outstretched but his face was riddled with absolute fear. 

“Can’t say I love hearing that from you, Wormy.”

If Peter had been sent to ward him off, that meant that the other two marauders must be shit deep in whatever laid beyond the portrait hole. Usually, the prospect of something to spice up his evening would perk his spirits, but tonight was a rare exception. 

He had been forced to do patrols with Chloe Sparrow due to the fact that she had been favoring her fellow Slytherins during her rounds. Although it had been his idea, it didn’t help that it took away precious time patrolling with Lily. Then, as he had come to find out, it also meant the night would be filled with a strange mixture of semi racist remarks and what James could only refer to as a grotesque version of flirting, ending in Chloe being sent back to her dorms before she could smack his arse another time. 

So in short, James’ bullshit threshold was reaching max capacity. 

“So—do you just want to tell me or do I need to pretend to struggle past you…”

Peter started to look visibly sweaty and backed off of the Fat Lady who, now free from her smothering, chirped insults under her breath. 

“Uhm. So before I say anything, you should know Lily wanted to, so—”

“Peter.” 

James was losing patience fast. He had expected the lads to have done something, sure, but Lily was a development he wasn’t ready for. From his tone alone, it all came tumbling out of Peter like a single word.

”Pads made some stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff?”

Peter’s eyes shifted. “Muggle stuff—said something about how that band,The Beagles or whatever, used it to—”

James walked up to his mate who jumped out of the way before he could even attempt to push through. 

Trudging through the portrait hole, Peter kept fast on his feet, babbling excuses like a mosquito hovering to feed.

“Again! She wanted to! Even helped a bit! Moony didn’t stop them!”

A voice drawled out from the center of the common room. “Thanks for ratting me out Wormy.” 

Remus laid reclined on the length of the couch, book in one hand while a cigarette hung from his lips. 

James took stock of the room. The only thing that looked remotely out of place was a tray of what looked like a dessert which had been ravenously attacked. A knife balanced on the baking tray. 

“So where are they?” 

Without any further elaboration Lupin tilted his head towards the fireplace and James took the two steps needed to get enough clearance to see over onto the ground. Lily was curled up in a ball, eyes closed and head resting on the stomach of a giant black dog, both completely asleep.

“Explain.” He used his head boy voice, but Remus only laughed. 

“Sirius thought it would be a scream to make pot brownies—should have seen them about an hour ago—never seen two people hug and dance around so much in my life.”

Peter, who was still standing at the entrance of the portrait hole, pipped up in a quivering voice. “It was quite nice actually—Lily was so affectionate and—”

“And you didn’t call me? Didn’t think that I wanted to come try muggle drug food too?”

James looked down at his sleeping girlfriend who buried her nose into Sirius’ stomach, hands curling around the fur, blissfully unaware that the animal she was laying on could be anything other than a dog. 

“You all knew I’ve always wanted to do this, Moony! Honestly, I’m hurt!”

“Sorry mate, it just happened.”

James crouched down next to Lily’s sleeping form, brushing some of her hair from her face. At his touch, her eyes blinked open, a brilliant glassy green, slightly bloodshot, looked up at him.

“Oh Baby! You’re back!” She lifted up and threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling her nose into his collar. 

“Oh I just love you! Wow, you smell so good!” 

Every word from her mouth sounded breathy and light, like the world was one big cloud with her on it. From behind him, Peter muttered: “See? I quite like her stoned” and Lupin just snorted in response.

“Have you met this dog? I love this dog.” She turned to wrap her arms back around a still sleeping Sirius, but James caught her, pulling her back into him. 

“I have met the dog—that's ok, we can leave him alone now.” James cradled her to his chest and she melted into him, completely forgetting Sirius despite her comment seconds ago.

“I can see you had some fun tonight.” 

She didn’t respond, rather looking up into his eyes before bursting into a laugh, grabbing both sides of his face and smashing their foreheads together. 

“Brilliant fun. The best fun. But not as fun as you. I missed you.”

It was hard to feel upset about that. James scooped under her legs and carried her like a child over to the staircase which led up to the dorms. Laughter tumbled out of her mouth before becoming preoccupied with kissing his neck in quick, frantic pecks. 

“I’m going to get her to bed before she decides she loves someone else—” Lily just squealed, wrapping her hands tighter around his neck in an attempt to get him to kiss her.

“If Sirius wakes up, tell him I’ll give him a running head start in the morning before I beat the shit out of him–.”

Remus didn’t look up from his book, eyebrows raised.

“Awfully kind of you Prongs.”

James started to climb the steps, Lily alternating between laughter and proclamations of love.

“Well–It’s the least I could do to repay him.”

[pamwritessometimes]

Fridays are for beer and heartbreak

Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: Your favorite patron’s there to mend your broken heart.

A/N: It's just a little something I came up with the other day. If I'm being honest, I've never seen Big Sky, but I'm a simp for a man in cowboy boots, so... enjoy. 🤍

Warnings: none? oh, maybe that English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad day. For what it's worth, it was a relatively nice, sunny day in Montana terms. Sure, my boyfriend declared the final break-up of our relationship, but to be frank, I was utterly unfazed by his antics; we’ve been in an on-again-off-again relationship for a year now. Not that it was serious in the first place. At least, not for him. And, if I’m honest with myself, maybe not for me either. So yeah, it was a relatively okay day.

Still, there’s something about hearing the finality in someone’s voice, even when it’s a toxic someone, that leaves you feeling a little hollow. The break-up itself wasn’t anything spectacular. Just another drawn-out argument that ended with him muttering some lame excuse before walking out. It had happened so many times before that I almost laughed when he slammed the door shut behind himself.

I was free. Really free. But that didn’t stop the ache sitting heavy in my chest.

I pushed through the rest of my day, the usual routine of prepping for the evening rush at the bar. A glance in the mirror told me I looked the part: western boots, worn-in jeans, a dark brown suede jacket I loved more than I probably should, and my hair pulled back just enough to stay out of my face but still look effortless. I should have felt like myself. I was supposed to be this confident, tough woman who didn’t need anyone to mess with her head, but tonight… I just didn’t have the energy to be that.

The bar was packed, as it usually was by this time of the night. The usual crowd was in full swing, with the sound of old country and blues tunes playing from the jukebox and the steady clink of bottles being set on tables. It was one of those oldie bars that still had that charming and rustic atmosphere, like time stilled between its four walls. That night, I stayed behind the counter more than I usually did, letting the other servers handle most of the tables. I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk or listen to the same old stories I’d heard a thousand times. I didn't have the energy for that either.

Then, Beau walked in. Right on schedule.

He had this easy confidence about him, something I noticed the first time he came in months ago. It was in the way he held himself, like he could command a room without trying, but somehow never made a big deal about it. Tall, broad shoulders, chestnut hair that always looked like he just ran a hand through it after a long shift. And those eyes, green, like the pines up in the mountains after the rain.

He always came in around this time on Fridays, right after his shift ended. Sheriff of Helena by day, patron at my bar by night. There was something comforting about the routine of it. Maybe because he was the closest thing I had to a friend here, even though we were more like two people who enjoyed each other’s company but kept everything else at arm’s length. Still, there was always something unspoken between us, something that hung in the air when he sat down at the bar.

Beau slid onto the barstool closest to me, the one he always sat at, and gave me a smile that eased the ache I’d been feeling all damn day.

“Evening” he said in that slow, easy drawl of his, laying his hat on the counter. “How’s it going, darling?”

I forced a smile, pulling a cold beer from behind the bar and sliding it across to him without asking. He always ordered the same thing, and I always had it ready for him.

“Same as always” I replied, but even I could hear the flatness in my voice.

His eyes narrowed a little as he studied me, and I could feel his gaze linger on my slight but easily visible frown. He had a way of seeing through me like he could tell when something was off even before I said anything. 

“You sure about that?” His voice was anything but pushing. It was the way he asked, like he already knew the answer but was giving me a chance to speak first.

I glanced away, grabbing a towel and pretending to wipe down the already squeaky clean countertop. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Just… had one of those days, you know.”

Beau took a long sip of his beer, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

I let out a breath and leaned on the bar, dropping the towel and meeting his gaze.

“He broke up with me. For real this time.” I hadn’t planned on saying it, but the words came out before I could stop them.

He raised an eyebrow, but there wasn’t any hint of surprise in his face. It’s like he not only knew it was going to happen, but anticipated it too. “You mean, finally?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, a short yet sharp sound that felt good coming out. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Beau didn’t say anything right away. He just sat there, watching me with those damn eyes that made it hard to keep things light. I couldn’t keep anything light with him. Not now, not ever.

There was something deeper there tonight, something that had always simmered between us but felt more dangerous now, like we were toeing a line neither of us had been willing to cross before. 

“You good with that?” His voice was softer now, the edges so much gentler, and it felt like a real, genuine question, not just some small talk or polite chitchat.

“Honestly?” I asked with a sigh ”I’m better off. I know that. But… it still stings, you know?”

Beau nodded, and something flickered in his expression, something almost protective. His gaze softened matching his voice. “You deserve so much better than what he was giving you, darling.”

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with underlying meanings. I knew what he meant. I knew he wasn’t just talking about my ex, and that’s when the tension snapped into something sharper, something deeper. I felt it in the way he was looking at me now, not as the bartender he chatted with every Friday, but as someone he cared about. But could that be the truth?

Maybe I wasn’t just his bartender either. Maybe we’d been dancing around this for too long. I leaned in slightly, not even realizing I was doing it until I saw his gaze drop to my lips. The bar around us seemed to fade, the noise, the people...none of it mattered in that moment. It was just me and Beau and the weight of everything unsaid between us thick and obvious in the air. 

“You gonna be alright?” he asked finally, and I couldn't help but notice how his voice became an octave lower... intimate in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

“I think so” I whispered.

But my heart was pounding, not from the breakup, but from the way he was looking at me. Like maybe, just maybe, he’d been waiting for this moment as long as I had.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad day.

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day, loves. 🤍

[sweetprfct]

Is It Over Now?

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fake dating your flatmate, Joe, should be a simple thing. It meant you get to help get his ex back, and it meant you get to stop your parents' nagging about bringing someone home for once. But what happens when fake dating turns into something unexpected? Now, what?

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! But here we go! A little peek inside Joe's mind and feelings :)

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 3.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Joe knew what he wanted for a long time now.

He knew ever since the first night that you two had done this agreement. He knew when you walked out of your room, wearing that mini black dress of yours that made him want to just cancel this ridiculous agreement and focus on moving on instead. Joe knew when he had kissed you for the first time. 

Those soft lips that touched his. Those big brown eyes that seemed to always made him forget that there was a world around him that probably thought how much he was in awe of you. The way your lips would curl into a smile, and your laughter that sounded like music in his ears. The way the noise of the pub that night had faded when you had stood between his legs and leaned down to kiss him. 

It made him forget about himself for a moment. 

It made him forget the world. 

It was just you and him. 

It made him forget about the idea that you were kissing him to make Ivy jealous. You kissed him that night and ever since then, it was embedded into his veins. Embedded into his brain. 

Then, you had worn that silver silk dress and the whole night, Joe was asking the Universe if this was his punishment for bringing you into this mad idea of his. His eyes were on you the whole time, and you stood there and talked to his friends like you didn’t have the care in the world. Joe, on the other hand, was kicking himself completely for being such an idiot. For thinking that someone like you would fall for someone like him. 

Someone who was indecisive and couldn’t even organize his life well. 

Meeting your parents was a different thing. That was when Joe had realized there was so much in you that you kept hidden from the world for a long time. The anxiety and nervousness that electrified your bones that night was something he never saw in you before. Right before you both arrived at your parents’ house, Joe just wanted to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. That he was there next to you no matter what happened. However, Joe knew the boundaries that you have drawn between yourself and other people. 

In fact, Joe barely had seen you ever hug Sara or Abby whenever they came over to the flat. There was always that distance that you have put up. Always an arm’s length even with your closest friends. When your mother had kept shooting her words towards you that night, Joe quickly realized as to why you had put up that boundary between everyone. 

You felt like you were never enough. 

He saw it in your eyes when your mother kept bringing you down with her commentaries. Your eyes grew dimmed, and you suddenly had fallen inside a dark pit inside your brain. Almost like you found a room inside your mind and hid yourself in there and locked the door until you had disappeared from your body. Your eyes stared into an empty nothingness in front of you, and Joe couldn’t help but slid his hand with yours under the table.

Blinking a few times, he saw how you slowly came back to your body. As if his touch had sent a signal into your brain and to come out from that dark room. He felt you squeezed his hand gently as he defended you in front of your mother. 

It was almost like a silent thank you. 

For Joe, he would defend you to anyone who would say negative things about you because how could they say something like that about you? 

Finding you in your room alone that night, Joe saw the melancholy in your eyes, and he just wanted to take you up in his arms and tell you that you were better than them. That you were so much more than whatever your mind was telling you at that moment. Joe wanted to tell you how much the thought of you was slowly occupying his mind every night. How much of your presence just immediately jumps starts his heart. Joe wanted to tell you that your eyes sparkled, and your smile sent electricity in every bone of his body. 

He had fallen. 

Hard.

He couldn’t bear to see you like this. Joe saw the way you had pushed down your emotions inside of you. He saw the embarrassment and frustration that washed over you when your mum and dad had started yelling downstairs. He knew that he wasn’t just going to sit there and make you feel as if this was your fault because it wasn’t.

And when he had held you in his arms, he wanted to just freeze the world around the both of you. He wanted that moment to last because it was the first time he had held you without having to pretend. Without having to do a little acting around strangers. If you would ask Joe, he wanted to stop this agreement already because that was the night that he had realized that the one person he had been falling for was the one in his arms. Not Ivy nor anyone else.

It was you. 

But that night wasn’t about him. It was about every scar that you hid under your skin from people. It was about how much you had to endure your mother’s words that made bullet wounds in your heart. It was about how much your parents had picked and pulled you apart your whole life, and you were left there until there was nothing left inside of you. 

Joe knew that, and he wanted to tell you how strong and magnificent you were. How none of those things that your mother had described you was true. 

But how come he couldn’t? How come he was being such a coward?

Was there a part of him that made him feel as if he couldn't face you because he was embarrassed over the fact that he was so obsessed with Ivy that he didn’t realize the one person he had been falling hard for was his flatmate?

That he couldn't seem to end the agreement because he was scared he wasn’t going to see much of you anymore if this all ended? That maybe, you didn’t feel that way about him?

Everyday, he avoided seeing you. He was barely home. Always crashing at his friends’ house just so he could avoid these feelings that were eating him up because why the fuck did he made up this plan? Why the hell was he still acting like he wanted Ivy back? In all honesty, Joe hasn’t even paid attention to her. She had called him a few times, but he was ignoring it. 

“Oh, c’mon, Joe…” Ivy slid her hands up on his chest. “Kiss me.”

It was one of those nights where you both had gone to the pub because Ivy and her friends were celebrating something. Joe had excused himself, and you didn’t say anything. 

You weren’t bothered over the fact that he was going outside the alley with Ivy. You sat by the bar and nodded your head as you drank your martini. So, he made another ridiculous decision and kept acting like he still wanted Ivy.

Sneaking out with her into the dark alley behind the pubs wasn’t really the best idea. Alcohol was running through his veins, his mind kept telling him that you didn’t feel that way about him, and his emotions were controlling him. He would find himself making out with Ivy to get rid of the unrequited feelings. 

He was insane. 

You were right about that. He didn’t understand how much he could care for someone until you entered his life. Sure, he was infatuated with Ivy, but this feeling was different when he was around you. 

He forgets about himself. He forgets about the world that was around him. 

With Ivy, he always wanted to prove to her friends and the world that he was deserving to be with her but with you… He just gets lost in you. He was able to be just… Joe. 

It was true that he was obsessed with Ivy during his relationship with her, but it wasn’t Ivy that he was obsessed with. It was the idea of her that he had written in his mind. The idea of having someone that was out of his league. He was looking for something greater, and he thought he could find that in Ivy. He thought that was what he wanted, so he played her games. 

He played until both of them lost. 

However, after the night of the film festival, it seemed like Joe had lost again. The news of you moving out of the flat got his mind reeling again. He didn’t want to let you go without him telling you how he felt. He knew it was a risk, but he had to tell you. You deserved to know what he felt about you and when he had kissed you, he thought you felt the same way about him. Until you decided to run off that night. 

He couldn’t help but scold himself mentally for making you so uncomfortable. 

For making you run away.

For losing you all at once. 

“Ivy.” Joe opened the front door of the flat that night. 

He found Ivy standing in front of him, her eyes sparkling and an excited smile plastered on her face as she threw himself into his embrace. 

Joe stood frozen. He was paralyzed as Ivy gripped her arms around his torso and buried her face on his chest.

“What are you doing here?” Joe asked, voice sounded ice cold. 

Slowly, Ivy slipped her arms away from his body and her smile faded as she gazed up at him. Joe could see the disappointment in her eyes as she walked past him and entered the flat. Sighing, Joe closed the door behind him before turning to face Ivy, who had her arms crossed in front of her chest. 

“Why are you acting like you haven’t spent weeks trying to get my attention?” Ivy asked, her voice sounded like she was insulted. 

“I…” Joe shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to get your attention. At least not for a long time now.”

Ivy let out a scoff. Her eyes studied the flat, and Joe could see that she was trying to look for a sign of you. If only Joe knew where you were too. He wanted to talk to you and apologize for making you uncomfortable by kissing you. 

“What do you want, Ivy?” Joe asked.

“You.” Ivy immediately replied, her eyes finding his. “C’mon, Joe. Really? Your flatmate? Her? We both knew you only were using her to get my attention, and you won. You got my attention.”

Ivy slid her hands up on Joe’s chest, but he was quick to grip her wrists gently and pulled her hands away from him. Ivy knitted her brows together as she stared at Joe. He could tell that she was trying to understand what was going on between him and her. 

“It’s over, Ivy.” Joe murmured. “You said it yourself, remember? This isn’t working out.”

“But I thought…” Ivy shook her head, panicked that she was misunderstanding everything. 

“Well, you thought wrong.” Joe answered. “So, please. Can you leave?” 

Joe opened the front door for her, but she was repeatedly shaking her head as tears welled up in her eyes. Joe exhaled a sharp breath. He knew what she was doing, and he didn’t want to cause any scene, especially that it was Ivy. She liked the drama, and she loved the center of attention. He didn’t need his neighbors complaining about her causing a scene in the middle of the night.

“No, don’t.” Joe shook his head, closing the door. “Ivy, stop.”

“Joe, I love you.” Ivy blurted out the words, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Oh, fuck.

This wasn’t what he wanted to hear from her at all. He took a step forward towards her as she quietly cried in front of him. 

“Ivy…” Joe murmured. “Please.”

Ivy walked closer to Joe and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into an embrace. Joe, however, stood there. His limbs felt paralyzed, he couldn’t move, while Ivy sobbed on his chest. Joe didn’t know if this was just her pretending, so he’ll take her back or she was actually crying because she had lost him. Either way, he wasn’t falling for any of it. He was so tired of her games. 

“Ivy.” He said sternly, taking her arms off his torso. “This is what you wanted, remember? You were right. This thing between us hasn’t been working out so, please. It’s over.”

“No,” Ivy shook her head. “No, no. I was wrong. I was. I love you, Joe. There’s no one else I want but you.” 

Joe watched as Ivy literally crumbled in front of his eyes, and he stood there unable to move his body. He didn’t know what to do. He felt bad for Ivy because in some time, he did care about her. He didn’t want to hurt her like this, but he was also unable to trust her after playing her games all the time. He was over that. He didn’t want that anymore. 

“I’m sorry.” Joe murmured, shaking his head. 

Ivy wiped her tears with the back of her hand and nodded her head. He saw that she was slowly realizing that she couldn’t do anything about this anymore. Joe exhaled a sharp breath, walking towards her and embraced her in his arms. He felt her body tremble as she sobbed the moment he held her in his arms. Even if Joe didn’t feel that way about her anymore, he still had a history with her. So, when he saw that she seemed a little too unstable to go home, he offered her to stay over for the night until she was okay. He didn’t want her going home like this, especially after the fact that he was the reason why she was sobbing in his arms uncontrollably. 

“Bye Joe.” That was the last thing Ivy said to him the next morning. 

The front door closed, and Joe was left alone in his own thoughts again. Thoughts about where you have been all night. You didn’t come home at all, and he wondered where you were and if you were okay. Knowing you, he knew that maybe you were with Sara and Abby, but he just hoped that you were okay. 

When you had entered that morning still wearing the same dress you had worn at the event, high heels in your hands and red rimmed eyes, he knew you had been crying too.

He couldn’t help but scold himself for hurting you and Ivy. 

“Hey,” Joe was just fixing the sofa that Ivy had slept in. “Can we talk?”

Your eyes looked exhausted, and he knew you had been crying. He knew it was because of him, and he wished he could just take you up in his arms at this moment and apologized for being such an ass because what the fuck was wrong with him? He should have ended this agreement long ago but because of his fears, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t ready to just lose you like that.

However, he had already lost you, right? 

The moment you had told him that you were moving out now, he knew you were serious about this. He knew that it was because of the stupid shit he had put you through. Although, Joe couldn’t let you go without at least letting you know how he felt. Without letting you know that he loved you. 

You were pushing him away. You were pushing your feelings away because he knew you didn’t want to get hurt anymore. He knew that you didn’t want to suffer the same fate as your parents’ marriage, but he didn’t want to give you that. He wanted to make you happy. He wanted to give you all the love in the world. This was something he never felt about anyone before. This was something he was willing to do anything for so he could hold you in his arms because the thought of losing you was ripping his heart out in pieces. 

“I love you.” Joe murmured, and he saw the emotions that suddenly washed over you. 

Joe cupped your face in his hands, his chocolate button eyes looking for yours. His thumb softly tracing your lips. Every trembling bone of his body just wanted to kiss you. He wanted to hold you, and he wanted to put a smile on your face. He wanted to split himself open and let you in. He wanted to know all the dark corners of your mind and replace them with light. 

“I love you so much.” Joe whispered. “It consumes every bone of my body every day and knowing that I couldn’t hold you in my arms, it kills me.”

And then that was it.

Something had snapped inside of you, and Joe saw it in your eyes. You gave him that permission that you were finally letting go, and you were accepting and believing him. Joe didn’t hesitate to kiss you and held you in his arms, and he was flying. Every part of him was desperate for you, and pulling you close in his arms wasn’t enough. 

He needed you closer. 

He kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment to happen. Like he had been waiting for his whole life to hold you in his arms, and you were finally here.

If Joe could capture every moment he had with you that night, he would. He would revisit them every time and replay them in his mind because that was everything to him. Feeling your heated body pressed against his and the small moans that would escape your lips made him insane. 

“I’m terrified, Joe.” You uttered those words to him. 

He knew what was going on in your mind. He knew all the scenarios that were slowly creeping up in your brain, but he wanted to take all of those away. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to break your trust. He wanted to make sure that you could feel his love for you because the way he felt about you didn't have enough words to ever describe it. 

As your bodies merged together, Joe touched you so delicately. He touched you and kissed every inch of you, wanting to memorize it. He wanted to kiss away all the pain, kiss away all your fears. 

He was so in love with you. 

And his heart was about to explode in happiness as he held you in his arms. His thoughts were gone and time had stopped. All he could focus on was you being in his arms. Your head laying on his chest, his fingers softly brushing your hair, and your eyes fluttering close. Your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, and your soft skin against his. 

He didn’t think he could feel this much pressure in chest. 

He didn’t think that you being in his bed, in his arms could make him lose oxygen in his lungs and at the same time, it was making him feel so alive. 

So, when morning came, he also didn’t think he could feel this much hurt in his chest. 

Fluttering his eyes open, Joe felt the bed next to him empty. Joe felt the cold air and your presence gone. At the beginning, he thought maybe you had gone to the bathroom but after a few minutes, acceptance had washed over him.

You were gone, and he didn’t know what he did for you to run away like that again.

Was last night didn’t mean as much to you as it did to him?

Was that all? 

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles

[emkayewrites]

I wrote another behind-the-scenes-of-Bridgerton-Season-3 moment in my Lukola fanfic. This time, it's about the making of the mirror scene....

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

5th October 2022 – Buckinghamshire (UK)

He stood in front of her with a face full of determination.

“I will always stand up for you.” He insisted. “Because I love you… Pen.”

“Are-are you sure?” She found her words catching in her throat as she swallowed back tears.

He met her wide-eyed, slightly terrified gaze with a small yet reassuring smile.

“Everything I said to your mother is true.”  He looked away from her and towards the full-length rectangular mirror that was propped against the brick wall behind her. “And you shall see it as well.”

With those words and with some grace, he gently maneuvered her so that she was turned away from him; her back pressing into his abdomen, his arms hugging her from behind.  They both directed their gaze into the mirror before them, catching each other’s’ eyes in the reflection.

This part came easily to Nicola.  Conveying the hope that he truly loved you but not being able to let go of the fear that it was all a mistake or hoax somehow.  That any moment, he might pull away with the coldness and unfamiliarity of a stranger.  She knew as she played the part and said the words that she was channelling feelings that were years old and about Ezra, and the unrequited nature of their relationship.  She did not want those dots to connect but this was part of the challenge of being an actor; you did not get to choose what the work bought up for you.  This was what had kept happening to her every time they walked through these scenes.  She tried to orient herself to the present moment: to the fact that she and Luke were in a practice being presided over by Lizzy in a small rehearsal studio in the middle of nowhere.  This was not real.  Yet, this exercise only pulled her further away from the pivotal emotions she needed for the scene.

Luke’s hands travelled up her bare arms and rested tenderly on her shoulders as he bought his mouth close to her ear.  She inhaled deeply, holding his gaze in the mirror. 

“You… are the cleverest, bravest woman I have ever known.” His breath was warm against her skin.

This was meant to be an emotional moment; she felt the energy reverberating through him as he continued speaking to her with the passion of a man deeply in love.  Yet, she was no longer in the moment because she actively was trying not to be. The emotions had felt too difficult to hold.  She took another deep breath, trying to portray the feelings of overwhelm that Penelope would have to those words being spoken to her. 

“You make me feel seen in ways I have never felt seen before.” Luke had disappeared, all she could see and hear was Colin.  He was on fire.  “And then there is…”

He reached up to her hair which was gathered up rather sloppily in a bun and held there by a long, green hairpin.  He gently plucked it out and let it drop to the floor, letting her hair fall to her shoulders.  Nicola knew she should emote here but instead, she focused on Lizzy who she could see out of the corner of her eyes, huddled in the corner, watching them with a kind of enthrallment Nicola rarely saw.  She noticed Luke becoming aware of her distractedness; it was evident in the way he slightly stiffened, almost breaking character for the millisecond it took him to process what she was and was not doing.

“The way your hair cascades down your shoulder…” He carried on, but she could hear a change in his voice.  It was less romantic, more unnerved.  “The way your eyes shine when you look at me, like two blue pools.” 

He paused and turned his gaze from the mirror to her, making a point to look directly into her eyes.  She tried to hold his gaze with the nervous, lovesick eyes of Penelope Featherington but it felt impossible.  She no longer felt the tension and climatic build-up associated with romance, instead she felt like a thirty-something-year old in a slightly stained t-shirt and leggings play-acting the most ridiculous scenario. 

Comparing blue eyes to two blue pools? Really? She wanted to laugh.

Luke moved an index finger up to her chin and then began to run it ever-so-delicately across her bottom lip. “The firmness of your lips parted just so...”

It became too much.  It would have been fine if all he had to do was the talking but as usual, the touch pushed her beyond her threshold.  It came through as a small giggle at first, startling him slightly but he retained his resolve and tried to continue.

“…And the softness of your skin…”

No sooner had he finished the sentence than she had found herself bursting into laughter.  He let out a slightly frustrated sigh and dropped his arms, releasing her from him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” She apologized. “We can go again, I’ll keep getting better.”

“This keeps happening.” Luke was addressing Lizzy, not her.

“OK, well that was really great from both of you until that moment.” Lizzy reassured, standing up and walking towards them.  “I really got the emotions from you both but then you seemed to shift, Nicola.”

Nicola was not used to feeling the spotlight hit her and wanting to hide from it but, in that instance, she was not sure how to respond and wanted to avoid the topic altogether.  Lizzy was right, she had been the one to break character and there had been nothing going on in the room that had taken her attention away.  It was all internal and she was not sure she was ready to share what the content of that was.

“I was really trying.” Nicola lied.

“Are you sure?  Could what the mirror scene involves be making you get a little in your head?”  Lizzy prodded gently.  Luke was also appraising her carefully, a mix of concern and annoyance on his face.

“No, God, I’m alright with the upcoming nudity, honestly.  I might just be a little tired.” Nicola replied, hoping this would lead to a break and allow them to move on from the matter. 

There was a scoff from Luke that took her aback.  She fixed him with a frown.

“Anything you want to say, Luke?” Lizzy queried, picking up on the atmosphere.

“I don’t think you’re tired because this has been happening for ages, every time I’m delivering the most heartrending of lines.  You’re not tired, be honest.” He spoke with a frustration she had never really heard in his voice before.  Again, it surprised her and on some level, it also angered her.  She was trying, she was tired and yes, she was also secretly distracted by the complex emotions involved with Ezra right now, but he did not know that part, so how dare he accusingly state that there was something more to the situation?  She knew her train of logic was unfair but, in that moment, after several days of rehearsal, she did not care.

“I am tired.” She spat with some venom.  She noticed Lizzy tense up as she took stock of the direction the situation was going in. 

“OK, well I think we can communicate through this.” Lizzy spoke carefully. “Delivering highly emotional and sexually charged scenes is intense, it can bring up a lot.  I think it would be useful just to take a step back and check in with ourselves – what is coming up here?  Luke, can you elaborate?”

“Alright, I’ll say it.” He spoke with a forthrightness that was unusual for him.  “What’s coming up for me – I’m intimidated by you, Nic.  I’ve respected you and your craft and I’m just here trying to measure up. Every time I put heart and soul into a scene, it’s not convincing enough for you, you’re laughing or your breaking character.  It’s giving the distinct impression I’m not measuring up here.”

Nicola took a second to absorb the words.  This was the most emotionally exposed she had ever seen him.  She felt a sharp sting at his words and at the realisation that he had not just been nervous about playing a lead, but he had been worried about playing a lead alongside her.  There were always many jokes made about her perceived success and experience in the industry by many on the Bridgerton set.  They were a cast of many unknowns or first-time actors, therefore it was not difficult to stand out even with a few acting credits to your name.  As such, Nicola had never paid too much mind to these light-hearted comparisons.  Clearly, Luke, the conscientious overthinker that she now recognised him to be, did.

Standing beside her, Lizzy also seemed to be receiving his words with a solemness. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Luke, I’m really glad you shared that.  I think we can forget how our performances are incredibly enmeshed and there is a metanarrative running through what you both do, in character and out of character.” Lizzy looked at Nicola expectantly.  “Do you have any thoughts, Nicola?”

“Well, I feel like a right dickhead, for one.” Nicola replied. She watched his features soften and relax. “It’s not you, mate. Lizzy is right, there is a metanarrative that I was hoping I could push past but it’s clearly affecting me, and now you.”

“What metanarrative?” He asked.  There was a look of relief spreading about him that made her feel simultaneously better and awful – she could not believe he had been carrying that much worry about his own performance.  She owed him an explanation.

“It’s…” She started but was not sure how to continue.

Sensing an opportunity, Lizzy interjected.  “You know what? I think… this is a great thing to talk through over a break and a coffee.  Maybe journal out your thoughts first and then share them with each other if that is easier.  Work out a way to support each other through your differing metanarratives?”

“That’s a great idea.”  Luke stated and Nicola nodded in person but in mind, the idea was terrifying. 

But it’s necessary. She thought.

[eleonoraalbright]

I need some Peter Maximoff fluff😭🤚

Peter Maximoff x Asexual!reader that’s scared Peter will leave them over it

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Asexual!Reader

Excerpt: Peter laid a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, but you shied away from his touch. Withdrawing his hand, he had to strain his ears to hear your next words. “Peter…” You gulped and seemed to be steeling yourself. “I’m asexual.”

A/N: I did some research and on Tumblr, one user said that asexuality is a spectrum; some asexuals are sex-repulsed and some love it. The reader in this fic is a sex-repulsed asexual.

Peter Maximoff wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he could tell something was troubling you. It started a week ago in his mom's basement on a peaceful Sunday afternoon. You were both relaxing by watching a movie that was playing on the TV. 

Technically you were watching the flick while he was racing in and out of the house and around the city, but he popped in often enough to keep up with the movie and show off his new knick-knacks to you. He had just come back from collecting an original Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots free of charge when he saw you rushing up the stairs in a hurry. 

He asked, “Hey, where’re you going?”

You froze as if you had been caught doing something wrong. “I—um—forgot I had some other plans today and I don’t wanna flake on them. Sorry, Peter, I’ll see you later.” You brushed past him without another glance and left. 

In the end, Peter shrugged it off. The excuse was pretty vague, but maybe you had a lot on your mind at the moment and just wanted a bit of time alone. Oh well, he’ll see you tomorrow anyway. He ran to his room and unboxed his game before rushing off again to find more cool loot.

Turns out Peter didn’t see you the following day, or at least he saw less of you than he would’ve liked. He showed up at your door to see if you wanted to hit the arcade and the comic shops. To his disappointment, you refused. You explained that there were extra chores that needed to be done and that they would take all day. He offered to help, but you declined. 

On Tuesday, you couldn’t go out with him because relatives were coming to visit and your family wanted you to stay. On Wednesday, Peter began to grow suspicious. When he popped over to your place, you said that you had been grounded for the next month. Peter didn’t believe you. Being grounded had never stopped you from hanging out with him before, so why should it now?

The obvious answer was that you didn’t want to see him. But why was that? Each time you had seen him since Sunday you avoided his gaze and kept him at arm's length. What had happened that could have caused this change in you? Peter mulled over the possibilities in his mind as he played ping pong with himself.

He recounted the things he talked about, but couldn’t think of an instance where he was careless with his words. Unless the playful argument about whether The Addams Family or The Munsters was the better show had not been as playful as Peter thought it had. Nah, that couldn’t be it. Peter stopped dead in his tracks. 

Had he forgotten yours and his anniversary? He checked the calendar nailed to the wall where you had written down important dates he should remember. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was in three months. Phew, so it couldn’t have been that. But then what was it! The mystery was driving Peter up the wall. 

All he wanted to do was see you! After a few minutes, he decided what course of action to take. He zipped to the flower shop and got a colorful bouquet. He dropped by the candy shop and procured a careful selection of all your favorite sweets and won a little stuffed orangutan from a claw machine. With this assortment of gifts, he raced over to your house and into your bedroom. 

You were sitting on your bed, thumbing through a magazine, and jumped when he made his presence known by pushing the flowers, the candies, and the stuffie onto your lap. He said, “I’m sorry for whatever I did. I can’t figure it out, but I’m really sorry. Can we talk again? What’s wrong?”

Setting his presents aside, you brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them. You replied in a quiet voice, “You shouldn’t be here, Peter.”

“C’mon, what’s the matter?” He crouched down next to the bed, a lop-sided grin on his face. “Did aliens abduct you?” He joked, hoping humor would help you open up. 

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and you began to rock back and forth. You covered your face with your hands and whispered, “I think we should break up.” Peter was shocked, nothing could have prepared him for that statement. You continued speaking, “I-I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Tears streamed down your cheeks and a sob escaped your lips. “I didn't think it’d be a big deal, but things are getting serious and I can’t hold it in any longer.”

Peter laid a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, but you shied away from his touch. Withdrawing his hand, he had to strain his ears to hear your next words. “Peter…” You gulped and seemed to be steeling yourself. “I’m asexual.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. He had heard that term before. Using his powers, he ran to the library and retrieved a biology textbook. He read page after page until he finally found his answer. He returned to your bedroom and read aloud, “You have the capability to reproduce without exchanging genetic information with another organism through sex? Are you a mu–”

“No, no! Not that type of asexual!” You closed your eyes and shook your head. “It means that I don’t experience sexual attraction. My brain isn’t hardwired that way—I don’t have those sexual desires or feelings that most people have—it’s not a part of who I am. I just don’t wanna have sex.”

Still confused, Peter processed this information. “Okay, but what does this have to do with us breaking up?”

You stared slack jawed at him, dumbfounded at his question. “You mean y-you don’t care. You don’t want to break up?”

“No, of course not! Why would I?” Peter’s confusion grew when you burst into tears. You started crying and buried your face into your pillow. Peter rubbed your back and tried his best to provide support. “Babe?”

You sat up and threw your arms around him and hugged him as tightly as you were able. You gasped between sobs, “I was s-so scared you’d leave me over it! I didn’t wanna lose you. I was gonna break it off to save you the trouble.” 

Peter hugged you with equal fervor and stroked your hair. He felt terrible. It must’ve been a horrible week for you, convinced that he’d wouldn’t want to be with you anymore. He pressed a kiss to your temple and cupped your chin as he locked eyes with you. “I’d never leave you. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” 

He didn’t know how long you two remained in that embrace and didn’t care. He would sit here all night if it made you feel better. You wiped away your tears, saying, “Wanna go get some pizza to celebrate?”

“And what are we celebrating exactly?”

“Not breaking up and the fact I got that confession off my chest. I feel a million times lighter now.”

“I like the way you think, babe.” With the problem settled, he sped you and himself to the nearest pizza parlor to have a delicious dinner and revel in each other’s company.

[buckyalpine]

Ok so I have a request, but bear with me because I can’t find the prompt list I had seen about it 😩

Basically it was about how in real life, things happen or go wrong during sex that make it more silly. There was a whole list of things that might happen, but I can only remember two of them. One was like someone being too ticklish and the other was body parts making weird noises. Hopefully you at least get the picture with those two examples 😂

I love the idea of sex being fun and silly sometimes and thought it would be really sweet with Bucky :)

18+ This is so cute. I love all of this so much. Awkward sex positions. Queefs. 

Bucky giggled.

Giggled.

You looked up at him with curious eyes, a devilish little smile flashed across your face as you went back for the same spot. Your lips nipped and teased his neck where he was most sensitive, making him squirm and wriggle under you.

"It tickles!!" He tucked his chin against his chest, his face flushed from smiling while you straddled him with an amused look on your face.

"I didn't know super soldiers were so ticklish" You grinned, poking his side, making him yelp. He grabbed you and flipped you over, trapping you under him.

"Mhm, and what about you baby" You squealed at the feeling of his beard rubbing in the crook of your neck, desperately trying to wiggle away from him while he held you down, laughing and nuzzling his face into your more. "Do I get to feel all of you now sweet girl" 

He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours, his hard length pressed against your tummy, precum making a mess on your skin. You moaned softly, nodding and spreading your legs for him.

"Ow" Your face scrunched slightly, as he spread your legs a little further, your body not as warmed up and flexible as since it was still earlier in the day. 

"Sorry sweets, you okay?" You hummed as he pulled your legs to wrap around his waist, pushing his cock into you slowly. "You feel perfect angel" He started off slow, feeling your body with his hands, smiling against your skin each time you clung onto him harder. 

"Faster baby" You moaned, pulling him down to kiss his sweet lips, your arms draped around his shoulders. He pounded you against the mattress, his cock slamming in and out of you, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in. 

"Come here baby" He pulled out of you, yanking you and bending you over the bed, stuffing his cock right back in you to fuck you from behind. 

How you hated the switch from missionary to doggy.

You adored how Bucky could hit your exact spot, except it usually also came with him literally fucking air into you in the process. You blinked, groaning at the way your body just refused to cooperate while with each thrust, the sound that kept escaping your pussy wasn’t something that could be hidden. 

Bucky giggled. 

With each thrust, he couldn’t help but snicker at the sound while admiring the soft flesh of your ass jiggle each time he pulled your hips back. 

"Did you just laugh?!" You couldn't help but laugh yourself, your boyfriend trying to hold in his little giggles while giving you gentle thrusts.

"Can't help it baby" He shrugged, massaging your thighs, his mind now wandering to something else he had wanted to try for a while. "Can-can I fuck you against the wall?"

You blinked back him while he bit his lip, hoping you'd say yes. He was still learning about things he enjoyed during sex and you were the safest most loving person he had ever been with. 

"Don't drop me Barnes" You nodded, standing up and padding over to a wall that wasn't near anything so you wouldn't knock anything over.

"I won't drop you" Bucky scoffed, you weighed nothing to him. It wasn't until you were in his arms did he realize it wasn't weight that was an issue and that there was an art to fucking one against the wall.

"How-how do i-" He grunted, lifting you with both arms, when realizing he wasn’t skilled enough just yet to put his dick in you without using his hand. He tried for a second, awkwardly rubbing his tip against your pussy while you held onto him for dear life, unable to understand how anyone enjoyed this position when it took so much effort. 

“Is it in yet?”

“I would know if it was in Bucky” 

“Damn right you would” Cocky bastard. 

“Will you stop priding yourself in your dick size for a second and just use your hand to stick it in” 

“Greedy now aren’t we” 

“Barnes, just use your hand to put it in and fuck me” 

Bucky snorted, managing to shift you so he held you up with his metal arm, lining his cock up with your entrance. He pushed into you, both of you gasping at the feeling as he filled you, both hands now gripping onto your ass and thighs. 

Once he got into the rhythm, he couldn't help but lose himself, loving the way you moaned and fluttered around him, the soft thumps against the wall only spurring him on more. Now you understood why people loved this position. 

"I'm gona-f-fuck I'm gonna cum" He moaned, his cock throbbing, fucking you faster, sweat beading at his forehead.

"Hold it, fuck keep going Bucky! Don’t stop-" You whined but it was too late, fuck you felt too good.

It was like a cum now button as soon as you told him don’t stop, keep going, his balls tightened against his body, cum bursting out of his cock, spilling his load into you. 

"I-HNggg-FucK I’m cumming” He moaned, stilling his movements, panting while still holding you up. "Sorry" He blushed, smiling shy at you while you snorted, shaking your head. 

"I told you to keep going!"

"Well, why do you feel so good" He rolled your eyes, carrying you over and dropping you onto the bed, throwing your thighs over his shoulders, pressing a sloppy kiss onto your soaked clit. 

"Now hold still while I make you cum pretty girl"

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