#you see a pink glimmer and we know how fast she is

[narumakiii]

my jinx survives btw

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 4

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic.Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @

Word count: 2,4k

Masterlist

Part 3~Part 5

The sun is shining, and the sky is as blue as can be. There isn’t a single cloud surrounding the private jet and can’t help but take a quick photo. Carlos had already opened the door and his hand is already wrapped in yours. And as you walk up the steps of the jet, you can feel your heartbeat rise. Carlos had told you you’d be meeting his teammate and now you’re worrying if you can sell this long-term girlfriend thing.  

“You’ll be okay, hermosa.” He whispers, only for you to hear and then gives your hand a slight squeeze. You’ll be alright, won’t you? The plane is already full of people. You can only assume it’s assistants, PR managers and flight attendants. They all great Carlos with utter respect and look at you mostly confused, but, likely in fear of their jobs, they too great you.  

You can see Carlos’ teammate, his back is turned to you. That is until the person he’s talking to points to you. Charles turns his and shows a bright smile. He immediately stands up, makes his way to you and embraces Carlos in a huge hug. “Carlos, is this the girl you’ve been talking so much about?” A blush creeps across your face at his words, not only that but a smirk too.  

You can see your new sugar daddy’s cheeks get coated in the same pink hue. “Ah, Charles, don’t expose me like that.” He replies, pushing you slightly forward, ever so scarcely showing you off. “I will. She must know, she must know.” After that, the driver turns his attention to you. “You must be Y/N. I’m Charles, but I’m sure you know. I hope Carlos talks about me as much as he talks about you.”  

You give a slight giggle, “No, not really. Only when we were driving here.” Charles gasps, pretending to be offended. “No, I understand. I also wouldn’t talk about me if you were around.” Carlos shoots him a glare and Charles raises his hands. “Someone’s already protective.” He jokes, jabbing Carlos in the side with his elbow. You laugh, slightly caressing Carlos’ arm. Maybe to calm him down? You’re not entirely sure.  

Then someone calls Charles again and he lets you two be. You can’t but wonder as he walks away, how could Carlos have said so much already? According to you, you’ve only known each other for a week. Is Carlos already so enamoured with you? Is it like you are with him? You and your girls talked for at least a few hours in total about him. A slight glimmer of hope sparks in your heart.  

Carlos guides you over to one of the seats by the window. The seats are made of a beautiful brown leather and the cushion is plush. But still, you only now realise after the thrill of being Carlos, that you’ve never flown before. Then movies such as ‘Final Destination’ and ‘Castaway’ flash through your mind. Your heartrate rises again, and you bite down on your lip.  

And then you hear the engine starting, you can see the plane moving down the runway. You can hear people clasping their seatbelts and the pilot talking. But nothing is realising in your mind. What if something happens? Your head is pushed back against the force of the plane starting. Your knuckles are white against the plane seats. Your eyes are glued to the seat as you watch the ground become further and further away. 

It doesn’t take long for the plane to stabilise, clearly expert pilots, but even still your ears are completely blocked out. Maybe Carlos could see the way that your mind feels fuzzy, he takes your hand in his, brings it up and places a small kiss. His slight stubble tickles your hand, pulling you from your daze. “Are you alright, hermosa?” He asks, taking your chin slightly to look up at you into his chocolate brown eyes. You nod, hoping he doesn’t notice that you can hardly hear him.  

“Yes, it’s just I- I've never flown before.” You blush, not wanting him to know truly just how little of the world you’ve seen. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, his dark brown brows pulled tight in concern. He looks so cute and that fact that you think that makes you want to chuckle. So many praises him, worship the ground he walks on for his mysterious and dark nature. But here he is, worrying about your plane ride. You just shrug as a reply.  

He tsks, “Siempre tan terca.” He mutters and then calls over one of the attendants. Soon after he twists open the cap of a water bottle. He hands you the water, and as you swallow you can hear the pop and then you hear the laughter of the people on board. “Better?” He asks, wiping the drops from your lips. How much can this man make you blush? 

You nod, not trusting your own tongue. “Good.” Then someone who has the same dark hair and eyes as your Carlos appears next to him. They smile and hug each other before he sits across them. “Hello, Y/N, I’m Caco,” his smile is kind, but he seems to be older and wiser than Carlos. “Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” you smile shaking his hand, entirely unsure of what else to say. 

What does he think of you? Does he see you as some gold digger trying to get a grab at his cousin’s lifestyle? He’s the only one that knows, does he agree with Carlos’ choices. He doesn’t seem to hold any tension in his eyes. Or maybe, was it his idea? Do you have him to thank for your water and lights? “No need to be so formal. Carlos tells me you’re perfect, and what he says goes.” He chuckles, and Carlos mutters to him in Spanish.  

“Now, Y/N, as you know, Caco’s knows. So, we’ve got to discuss the conditions of the agreement.” He explains, watching your every reaction, clearly, he’s signed so many contracts before and knows the procedures. You had expected this, he told you to think about this. But really, there was only so little you could think of. You nod, allowing him to continue. “You go first.” You tell him, not really sure of what you’re about to ask.  

He’s just slightly taken back by this. He leans back in his chair, the way he spreads his legs causes filthy thoughts in his mind. “Alright,” he then reaches into your back pocket and pulls out the box of cigarettes that you always keep close by. “No more smoking. You’re quitting. Now.” He doesn’t allow a single thought of defiance. He continues without a step as if he’s asking you to drink more water.  

Which he does. “You will eat three healthy meals a day and exercise when I do.” He can see the word rebellion on your tongue but with the singular raise of his brow, and a dark stormy look you don’t say a word. “You will join me with at least 7 of the last races left this season. And lastly, the most important one, you will accept any gift I give you, without question. If you want something, you will ask without hesitation.” 

Will you be able to cope? With the expectations, the travel, appearances? All of that without the relief of your cigs? But really, why had you become so depended on them? Without the stress of a job, or money, what else is there left for you to worry about?  

 However, all of these requirements make sense, this is what you expected. “Any questions?” You shake your head no, “Do you agree with these terms?” Caco asks, he must be there as some sort of witness. You nod and then Carlos asks if you have any conditions. “I don’t have as many as you,” you mumble with a pout, feeling a bit unprepared. He chuckles, “That is alright, you can add more later.”  

You take a deep breathe, “Okay... um, my mother has been bothering to visit her for months now. I want you to come with me.” He raises his brow, expecting an explanation. You sigh, hiding your face into his side, before lifting it again. “She keeps pestering me. I’ve been out into the world for like four years now and haven’t brought someone home. I guess I’m just tired of disappointing my parents.” You mutter, feeling a bit ashamed of your neglect of your family.  

“And, and, I want you to pay my rent.” You feel just a bit ashamed of asking, it was really the most important things you could think of. The rest you’d worry about when you got further in. 

 “No.” He says and both you and Caco look confused. “I don’t want you living there anymore. I want you to look for a new place. Any price ranges, anywhere.” He says so casually as if you haven’t been stuck in that dump for the past three years. “You mean it?” You ask, the excitement already cooking.  

“Yes of course, ask anything, we just agreed on that.” He scolds and you can’t help but let the gears turn in your head. “I have medical bills and my student debt is still not paid off...” He picks up the hint instantly. Carlos nods and then pulls out his phone and opens his banking app. “How much is it?” He asks and this time you must open your banking app. You can’t help but blush seeing the negative amount, next to his many zeros.  

“Well I’ve been working hard the past three years, so I have twenty thousand left.” With each word you talk softer and softer. But he’s so in tune with you that he hears and enter the amount without question. “And the medical bills are a thousand. All in euro.” He doesn’t even hesitate for a moment. He enters the amount without question. It’s barely a few seconds before you see the amount in your account.  

A bright smile covers your face and you quite literally feel your shoulders become lighter. For dramatic effect you sink into the soft cushion. He and Caco laughs, and Carlos already feels so happy to have you by his side. You seem so untouched by the heaviness of the world. Even after the struggle of your bank balance for so long, you still manage to stay childish.  

After all, he’d give you the world just to see that smile again. You take a moment just to take in the feeling of being dept free. Which is so crazy for you. This something that you’ve dreamed about for so long and now it’s finally real. “Oh, I’m so happy I could kiss you.” You sigh out, not even realising your words. You hadn’t had time to set those conditions yet. The sugar part is completed, what about the daddy part? 

Your eyes grow wide, understanding what you’d just said. A blush coats your cheeks. There is a moment of silence between the three of you before Caco continues for you, seeing the way Carlos’ eyes brew and flick to your lips. He loves his cousin very much, but he doesn’t want to see that. “Is there anything else you wanted?” He asks, trying to lift the tension. You bite your lip, thinking, “I want to go to every party you’re invited to.”  

He glares for a moment; you can tell he so badly wants to say no. “And I want to go to every photoshoot.” “That I can agree too. But I’ll only agree to the first one if I am always with you.” You hold out your hand and then lift your pinky. “Pinky promise?” A wide smirk covers his face and then wraps his much bigger pinky around yours. “Promise.”  

You could see through the plane window, the beauty of Zandvoort but seeing it all up close it breath taking. It wasn’t a very long plane ride. Carlos helped you through the landing. He let you hold his hand tight and even had them bring you some gum to chew, to help with your ears. But now you’re on your way to the hotel.  

You rolled down your window all the way and you could smell the ocean breeze. And finally, when you saw it the first time, you screamed with glee. “I saw the ocean first! I get ice-cream.” You act all chuff with Carlos who only furrows his brows when you say this. “I will get you ice-cream any time-of-day mi corazon.” You can’t help but laugh at his words.  

“You do not know the game?” You ask, in shock at his confusion. “It is a game?” He asks, his eyes still careful on the road. You gasp, shocked because it seems so normal to you. “When my family and I would drive to the beach, the first one to see the beach would scream out and they would get an ice-cream.” Carlos has a gentle smile on his face.  

“You have a big family then?” He asks, hanging on to your every word. You chuckle, “Oui, I have 5 siblings, but we don’t talk much anymore.” You sigh, placing your head on your arms as you stare far past the window. Your excitement falling flat as your reminded of your small family house, and the small town you grew up in. Having to share your room with your two sisters.  

 People say you were lucky that they were twins. The left the house at the same time leaving the room all to yourself. But, at the end of the day, a very busy house, too small for eight was dead quiet. “Why no?” Carlos asks, it's unusual to him, he’s quite close to his family. You shrug your shoulders. “I’m the youngest, they were all long gone and out of the house by the time I was in high school.”  

Carlos stays quiet, the cogs in his mind already turning. “Would you want to be closer to them?” He asks, his hand falling on your thigh as you come closer to the highway exit. Again, you only shrug, “If I had the chance.” He gives your thigh a slight squeeze before shifting gears again. The rest of the ride was quiet, and Carlos is already thinking of ways to make you smile again.  

My taglist is open! If you wish to be tagged in this story alone, please comment or reblog with the words 'tag'. And if you wish to be tagged in all my posts please comment or reblog with the words 'tag all'.

[doodlebugdraws]

For Eternity - Prophecy Of Ruin

After being monarch for centuries, Gaia eventually grew numb to the cycles of the Sun and Moon. They rotated in and out perfectly, on their own. Such a perfect sequence, strong enough power only Gaia could break it.

So dawn and dusk and the times in-between were just how it was to the Queen. As it should be.

But something stirred deep inside of her since the night before when she fell into a slumber--the first time she slept in about a millennium, give or take. Something was changing.

And she promptly made out to get to the bottom of it. Which is why she was in a caravan with her closest guards in the dead of the night, as opposed to back in the castle corridors.

The stars seemed to glimmer exceptionally bright to Gaia tonight…or were they always that bright? Had she ever truly noticed?

It was as if the Queen's eyes were polished. And she was suddenly seeing her world for the very first time….

Gaia still hadn't decided if this was a good thing or bad thing.

"My Queen….your majesty?"

Ugh. She got distracted. Odd.

Gaia turned her long gaze quickly down to her advisor, who twitched at how spontaneous her attention shifted.

"Your majesty…." They composed themself, "we have arrived. It appears we have been….duped if you will."

"....elucidate."

The advisor gestured away from the group, toward a small dirty tent before them. They would've probably missed it if it weren't for the strange glowing orbs sitting in front of the tent.

"It appears to be a shabby nomad hut." The advisor scrunched their nose in distaste, "nothing they have to say could be of any importance t--yo-youR MAJESTY."

The advisor flailed their forelegs around in panic, not knowing what else to do. Queen Gaia had stepped away from her guards, and casually made her way toward the tent.

"It's too dangerous!! M-my queen please! They could be thieves!!!" they continued to blare.

"And I'm a deity with the power of a thousand armies," Gaia retorted calmly, not even glancing back at her subjects, "what could a little nomad do to me?"

The advisor shut their mouth tight, seeming a tad embarrassed, and stepped back.

"I won't be long."

Gaia lowered her head to push back the curtain to step inside.

----

It was a much different sight inside the tent.

In fact, it seemed a lot bigger. Even despite the clutter.

Fancy patterned tapestries, hoof-carved chests, bottles with shiny liquids, colorful bead curtains. Gaia had seen many wonders in her long, long lifetime, but she still chose to be intrigued.

And in the center of everything, stood a giant glossy blue orb on a dwarved table. She carefully tapped it once, and a swirl of pink aura fluttered away from her hoof.

Alchemy. Artificial magic created using specific combinations of supernatural herbs.

BOOM!

Clouds of pink glitter burst in front of the Queen, and she reacted steadfast with a makeshift aura shield.

"Ah-stounding!"

COUGH!

A hooded creature manifested in front of Gaia, but lost their dramatic flair as they forced themselves to hack and cough into their sleeve. The other arm swung out and batted the rest of the magic fumes away with a grey paw.

"You...hurgh...reacted amazingly fast! As I expected, of course, but still a wonderful sight to behold!" The creature withdrew their hood, revealing a feline face, with darker stripes and vibrant green eyes.

"An Abyssinian. You're quite far away from home, are you not?" Gaia questioned in curiosity. "Should I be wary of you?"

"If that makes you feel more comfortable!" The catfolk shrugged without a care. "My...your mane is more marvelous than what everyone says!"

"I know. Onto business; you sent a letter through the nearby barracks for me." Gaia stamped a hoof firmly to the ground to get to the point. "Tell me at once what this is all about. You were very cryptic."

"Oh yesyesyes of course, your Majesty!" The catfolk flicked their wrist whimsically. Gaia began to wonder if this actually was a joke.

They stepped up to the blue orb, and gestured for the Queen to do the same. They reached their paws around the orb to stimulate the pseudo-magic within.

"Forgive me. You pointed out the fact I'm an Abyssinian all the way out in the ponylands. I should explain.

"I have had prophetic dreams since I was old to open my eyes. Meager things normally. 'It's going to rain tomorrow!' 'Some fellow will steal bread from your shop!' I got good enough to start earning wages, but that's a story for another time.

"But one night that all changed."

The pseudo-magic began to swarm in a tangled bundle with the glass ball.

"I had the biggest dream….and I haven't a different dream since then. The same dream over and over. I knew I had to travel here and tell someone! Meaning you."

The bundle unraveled in a tap, and the clouds spread apart, to reveal an image.

"My Queen…..a terrible fate awaits you!"

Their voice changed to less friendly and more eerie and stern. Gaia flicked her ears in suspense.

"Your long-standing kingdom will succumb to the flames! The evil! And you will have to watch as it dies. Moon and Sun will fail to orbit, and the storm clouds will gather and not fade!

"A War is coming, My Queen! And you won't be the one to face it!

The room began to feel cold. Or was that just her…?

"It all ends...when the Seed Of Remorse is planted…"

…..

It's a good thing Gaia never needed sleep.

Because she vows to never rest again.

She turned around without another word, and calmly stepped out of the tent.

"Apologies."

Gaia stopped and flicked an ear at the prophet.

"I had to get the news to you….I know you know how to fix this. Whatever is to come. Yes?"

"....."

Without speaking, she completely stepped back into the moonlight. She turned to gaze at it.

She was grateful she didn't need sleep.

[arts-n-drafts]

POV: a writing exercise

Hey guys! This is the first writing exercise on this blog! Feel free to add your own in a reblog :0

The prompt for today was Perspective - each of us had 15 minutes to write a scene and then pass it to the next person. Then, we had to rewrite the other person's scene from a different perspective - be that first/second/third person or from another character's POV

The pieces are Colour Coded -

Espie - Purple

Athenodora - Green

FloralShirt- Pink

Let us know what you think! :D

-Mod Espie

Up ahead, the mountain loomed.

It was already twilight. The mountain’s peak was still brushed by the last of the sun’s rosiness, but shadows had creeped over the rest of its craggy body, and it in turn was casting its shadow all over the road.

At this sight, the lone man on the road stopped and sighed. He had ridden like the Devil was behind him the whole day, and still he had only got this far.

You look up to the mountain looming above you.

You feel your steps getting heavier as the twilight hides behind the horizon. You look at the mountain’s peak, admiring the last of the sun’s rosiness, before the shadows reach up to chase it away. The shadows that have shrouded the lands beyond fill you with determination.

Unable to take another stride, you stopped in the middle of the road and sighed. You had been running around the whole day like a sinner in church hunted by aggressive nuns. It felt like you should’ve made more progress by now.

I creaked up the stairs, dust hanging in the air like spiderwebs. My breath came fast and cold in the stagnant air, heart thrumming in my ears as I strained to catch the whispers above. Hand drifting to my foil, the other reaching for the trap door, I shakily pressed a sweaty palm to the latch. With rusty resistance, I force the latch open. Click, click, click. The footsteps pause above me. As I hold my breath, I hear scratches at the door. The wood hisses open, and as I brace myself and peek beyond it, eyes darting and sharp,  the pressure of the air seems to pop. All at once, winds gust and swirl around me, blinding me as I squint past the pain. Heaving a coughing breath, I push and tumble my way into the attic, slashing wildly about me. A deafening screech hits my ears, and I catch a glimmer of hope in the surprise it holds. Righting myself firmly, rhythm returning, I reach for the popping satchels of purified salt and silver at my belt, hurling them at the towering shadow that lurches above me. Not one to waste an opportunity, I glance forward with a biting strike and drive it backwards, creeping into the corner.

It has been so long since you’d had a good hunt, hasn’t it?

How long…? You don’t know… You can’t remember… It is always dark in this attic. The only lights that ever come, the only breaks in the musty sameness of this place, are the brief gleams and flashes that the preys bring through the trap door. You have forgotten what you do in the time between those moments. Perhaps you’ve been pacing up and down the attic, trying to find a way to break the monotony. Perhaps you’ve been lying with your eyes closed, waiting. Always waiting.

None of that matters now, though - now that there’s a creak on the door’s latch, and the sound of bated breath on the other side of the wood. The sound of something with breath. The sound of something alive.

Alive? Weren’t you like that, once?

You can’t remember.

I opened the door to see my father sitting on the bed. He looked nothing like in the photos. It was hard to believe those sunken eyes of his used to be filled with so much joy and youth. His hunching posture made him look rather out of place in this ornately decorated bedroom. 

“O-Oh gosh, Sera! Didn’t see you there!” He perked up as he walked over to me.

“H-Hello, Dad,” I said, not expecting myself to be so nervous.

“Um… Are you comfy with a hug?” He held out his arms.

“Yeah, sure, of course!” 

She hesitates gracefully at the door, a timid bug skittering by the edges of politeness and duty. He was the sun to her, a grand pillar of honor and wit that overshadowed her in her teens, yet a wacky-waving-inflatable-arm-flailing-tube-man of whimsy and joy in her childhood. She wasn’t sure what would await her behind those doors - a continuation of the humiliating past, something she could never live up to, or another stranger she didn’t know how to love? She wasn’t sure which one she wanted. 

The silence wasted its breath. She steeled herself once more, urging herself past those familiar doors to catch her father, pallid and weak, a hunched spirit ghosting his overbearing image. “O-oh gosh, Sera!”  the words felt flimsy to her ears “Didn’t see you there!” His smile lifted, a remnant of her memory. 

“H-hello, dad,” she spoke, the anticipation stuttering around her. 

“Um. Are you comfy with a hug?” his arms, broad and sturdy, now seemed to open like broken wings in his shattered image. She bit back a laugh, the absurdity of this crushing weight dissipating into dust, the overbearing presence of her past revealing darkness in the passing of his absence’s eclipse. Where was the blazing heat and pressure she had avoided? 

“Yeah, sure, of course!” she spoke airily, the breathlessness of a task overdreaded mixing with the adrenaline of the unknown. “Of course, dad”, she lied, “come here”.

As he crumpled into her arms, she wondered if there was really time to learn to know this fragment of her past, or if, like before, his changing self would pass. And in that, a sadness struck her, the inner child of her that mourned the dad she once knew, that perhaps hoped his newest change would be to return to her. “Happy birthday,” she choked. “It’s good to see you”.

“It’s good to see you too,” he breathed, “my darling little girl,” like a final nail in his coffin.

[lys1]

This is an Asra x fem!reader. NSFW for sure, porn WITH plot <3 this is my first post on tumblr so feedback appreciated.

——————

You walk through the dusty streets of the Market towards the palace. Hundreds of stalls loom up on either side, alive and vibrant with colors, smells, and tastes. It feels good to be back in the heart of Vesuvia.

You turn to look at Asra beside you, keeping your exhausted pace. It had been 8 days since Nadia had asked Asra and yourself to go check out some mysterious magic happenings on the outskirts of the city. You scoff to yourself, mysterious indeed, it took half the time to even track down the little pixie creatures causing ruckus and mayhem. Eventually, after some exhaustive spell casting and careful teamwork the two of you had managed to return the troublesome pixies to the proper magic realm they escaped from.

You yawn tiredly, loosening the emerald colored traveling scarf from around your neck. It was afternoon now, and the sun was beating down.

"Almost there now," Asra spoke up, breaking the silence. He looked fondly over at you, a smile lighting up his sun kissed face. Even so, you could see that the time away from home had taken its toll on him too. You were both more than ready to hit the hay.

You nod slightly, keeping back another yawn. "I hope Nadia has food for us, I'm starved." The villagers in the towns you had visited were kind and generous, but nothing could beat the delectable food that the palace prepared.

Asra chuckled, "I'm sure that right after we fill her in on the successful pixie management she'll immediately be tending to us like a mother hen. You know how she is, she loves to provide." He pushed back his curls from his face to wipe his brow of sweat, smiling as he too imagined the delicious array of food that was about to be offered. He picked up his pace at the thought, making you jog a bit to keep up.

The Palace gates soon loomed over the two of you, sparkling and gold in the summer sun. The guards at the gate looked up as you approached.

"Ah, the magicians! I trust everything went alright?" One asked, clearly recognizing the famous duo. He smiled warmly, maybe a little starstruck.

Asra returned his smile, "it was simply magical."

You rolled your eyes at the terribly overused pun as the guard gave a hearty laugh. The two of you were waved in and informed that the countess was waiting for you in the dining room.

"Oh even better," you groaned in appreciation. "We get to eat while we talk. I love Nadia." Your stomach growls in agreement. Asra flashes you a beautiful smile as his feet climb the stairs alongside yours.

"And clearly," he adds, "she loves us back!" He was particularly looking forward to some blue tongued skink, Nadia knew it was his favorite.

It only took a couple minutes to reach the dining hall. One of the servers was bustling out the moment You and Asra rounded the corner to the door.

"Oh, hello!" They said, giving a small polite now. "The countess is expecting you! Please, come right in." They moved aside, holding the large ornate door open with one of their hands.

You wink and whisper your thanks as the two of you make your way in. Immediately your mouth fills with saliva at the smell that filled the room. The table was large and being filled with platters of many foods of different origins. The gold dinnerware twinkled delightedly up at you and the red wine glimmered deep and inviting.

"Welcome, friends." Nadia opens her arms, rising from her chair. She had just been sipping on some pre-dinner tea while waiting for her guests. She was smiling, and looking absolutely magnificent in her shining purple and gold robes.

"Hello Nadi," Asra said, joining you and her in a quick hug before seating himself at the table. You follow, sitting beside him as Nadia resumes her seat. The servants bring the last platter of steaming dumplings out at that moment.

You sigh contentedly. "This looks amazing Nadia, I feel spoiled."

Nadia smiles, the faintest blush on her high cheeks. "Anything for my favorite magicians, willing to travel far and wide in aid of Vesuvians in need." She adores, raising her wine glass. "To my dear friends, what I would do without you, I wouldn't know."

You and Asra raise your glasses with her, each of your own cheeks now a healthy pink. Nadia declares the meal to begin and you all dig in.

"Oh my, what troublemakers!" Nadia declares, after hearing the story about the pixies. The food was being relished amongst every plate and the wine was flowing steadily. "I can't believe such tricky little creatures exists." She continues, eyes sparkling as she pours another cup of wine.

"Yes, well, the magic world is something else entirely." Asra laughs, relaxed and feeling full. He was lounging comfortably, one hand gripping your thigh, another holding his gold goblet. His skin was warm and aglow.

You had your own hand comfortably nestled in his snowy white locks, massaging slow circles into his scalp. It had been a long 8 days and you were both happy to finally be able to relax into each other while having pleasant conversation.

"You should have seen the way they caused mischief," you add. “Oh I felt terrible for that village. So many upside down cows to turn over." Asra smiles as you tell the story, closing his eyes and leaning into your gentle touch. It was, to put it simply, the best feeling he could imagine. Well, almost.

Nadia chuckles again. "Well, I'm just glad that they are gone and we can laugh about this." She says, sighing in slight relief. "Vesuvia is fortunate to have two talented magicians like yourself. I am fortunate to have you as my friends. Your well deserved payment is in your guest room."

Asra blinks, "oh, you're offering us a place to stay tonight?" He asked, the gratefulness clear in his tone. You couldn't help but agree, walking back to the shop did not really sound like something either of you wanted to do. Especially, you muse, lifting your glass to your lips, after how many wine jugs the three of you had emptied.

"Why of course," Nadia looks surprised that we even had to ask. "And," she continued, "use of my personal bath this evening. You two more than deserve some relaxation and.. fun." She ends her sentence after a slight pause, giving you both a side glance full of humor.

You feel your cheeks go slightly hotter at the obvious suggestion. However, embarrassment aside, nothing else sounded better right now. You look down at your lover who was now lounging against your lap and smile. Oh how far too long it had been, the pixies had been relentless and had not offered much down time.

Asra chuckles, clearly more comfortable with the suggestion. He always had been a bit more confident when it came to discussing your private life. You found it quite endearing.

"Oh Nadi," he smiles. "You just made this evening even better somehow. I can't wait to take my love there and-"

Nadia waves her hand, laughing at your horrified face. "Please, please, I certainly don't need to know details." She grins, "just go, and take the wine."

Asra didn't need more encouragement and sat up promptly. He looks down at you, a shadow of hunger in his lilac eyes, offering you his hand. You take it, biting your lip as his gaze continues to rake over your body in the sort of way that makes you squirm.

"Thank you, Nadia." You say breathlessly, and a little sheepishly.

Nadia smiles, "anytime." She says, laughter still ringing in her voice. "Now go, before Asra here makes love to you on this table."

Your eyes open wide, shocked to hear her say such dirty words before ducking your head down in embarrassment.

Asra rests his hand on your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear, "you heard the lady." His voice is sultry and thick with want. "The table is looking awfully inviting right now."

Quickly, you turn and head out the door, Asra following close behind. The bath is not far down the hall and the two of you make great time. Asra's hand is at your waist, pressing in such a way that you know means desire. You hadn't realized how badly he had been missing you.

You make it to the door and turn to look back at your lover. You gulp at the hot scene behind you. Asra's eyes are half-lidded, purple irises cloudy with lust. His shirt is already half unbuttoned, revealing his delicious golden tan skin, smooth and beautiful. He's looking at you in a way that makes you think he hasn't eaten in a week and you are a five course meal.

He closes in, pushing you against the door and reaching for the handle. "You're terribly slow," he says, voice already rough, desire prominent. He pushes the handle and the latch clicks, the door swings in behind you.

The two of you tumble into the sweet smelling room. Obviously Nadia informed a servant ahead of time of the use of this room because the bath was already filled and steaming. On top of the water pink rose petals float, filling the area with a soft floral scent.

Asra closes the door with a soft click and looks over his shoulder at you. "Oh my dear," he murmurs, taking the couple strides to wrap you up in his strong arms. "I've missed hearing you cry my name, kissing those lips, and feeling your skin." His fingers travel up your waist and over your stomach. They linger, just a moment at the swell under your breast before finally cupping your face in his hands.

You tremble under his touch, body suddenly aching with need. You bring your own hands up to his chest and splay your fingers out so you can feel his heart beating. It's fast and erratic, excited to be close to you.

"Sweetheart," Asra whispers, voice heady. It's intoxicating to hear him talk to you in such a way. You look up at him and catch him licking his lips. You bring your own up to meet his, tongue out to capture his. He groans, melting into the kiss, gripping your hair so tightly it's almost painful.

You gasp, mouth opening and he runs his tongue along your lips, tasting the wine you both had shared. "Delicious," he says against your skin, tasting more and more. His hot open mouth kisses travel from your lips to your cheek, jaw, and finally resting on your neck. Asra loves to leave marks, and he takes your skin between his teeth intending to do exactly that.

Your moan comes out hoarse and you feel heat starting to pool between your legs. They feel shaky and weak, unable to withstand such torment.

Asra steadies you and pulls back briefly, cheeks flushed hot, want written all over his face. "We," he states, "are wearing far too many clothes for a bath."

You laugh and take his shirt in your hands. "I agree," you say, pulling at the remaining buttons. They come free easily and soon a glorious, shirtless Asra is standing before you. You drink in the sight unashamedly, totally enthralled with your lover. Gradually, though slowed by each other's groping hands, you both end up undressed.

Asra grabs your thighs and hoists you up onto his hips. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your breasts into his soft skin. He groans appreciatively, nuzzling his face into your chest breathing deeply, and walks the two of you over to the edge of the bath.

The water is still very warm as it licks your skin. You jump in surprise and moan slightly as it overtakes your aching folds and up over your ass. "Ahh-" you sigh, slumping into the crook of Asra's neck. "This is so good."

Asra hums his agreement before taking your chin between his fingers and directing you too look at him. His eyes are swimming with love, need, and an absolute desire to ravish you. You swallow hard, unable to look away.

"I want you." He says simply, barely above a whisper. He maneuvers your body so your back is against his chest. You lean your head back into him and relax in the fragrant water. Asra snakes his left arm around your waist and trails his fingers from your belly button downwards.

You bite back a squeal as his trained fingers circle the small nub at the top of your slit. He adds pressure, rubbing you in a manner that makes you crazy. Your hips wiggle back and you feel him, hard and straining, pressing into your ass. His breath hitches only for a second before he leans down to pepper soft kisses on your neck and shoulders.

His other hand makes it’s way up to your right breast and he expertly rolls your perked nipples between two fingers. Your whole body shudders in response to his actions.

“Ah, fuck Asra,” you choke out, moving your hips to meet his fingers as he slides them down your slick towards your now dripping hole. He wastes no time plunging two in, enjoying the feeling of your walls tightening around him.

Asra lifts his lips from your skin and brings his mouth to your ear. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you. Pretty and wet for my fingers, aching to be filled.” He curls them as he says that, relishing in the soft gasps that fall from your trembling lips.

You groan as he licks the shell of your ear, hot breath teasing on the sensitive skin. “You,” your voice falters a second as Asra’s fingers continue to explore your insides in a way that makes you grip his strong thighs on either side of you. “You are ready for me too.” You finally gasp out, finding the strength to grind back against Asra’s swollen cock. You knew if you could see it, it would be an angry red and leaking precum, desperate to be buried to the hilt inside of you.

Asra’s breath comes out in a short gasp that makes you smirk in satisfaction. At least you still have a little control left. That thought flies out your brain a second later when Asra pinches your nipple hard then twists, making you cry out in painful pleasure.

“Watch yourself, my love.” He coos playfully, no remorse in his words. You grit your teeth, taking in the torture that both of his skilled hands are laying upon you. You know what he wants, and it is oh so tempting to give in. You’re almost at war with yourself as your back arches on its own accord in rapt pleasure.

“Oh please, please.” You finally break, body shaking. You reach your arms back and thread your fingers through Asra’s fluffy locks before gripping hard. “Asra please fuck me already.” You plead, unable to care anymore that you were begging.

You feel Asra’s fingers slow to a stop inside you and then remove themselves. You almost groan in disappointment but you know better.

Asra flips your body around so you’re straddling his hips. You gasp when suddenly you’re faced to face with your beautiful lover. He looks positively stunning, the soft moonlight coming in from the high windows bathing him in a pearlescent light. His skin is glowing with a cool sheen, and his breath is leaving parted lips shallowly. Not to mention, his hard cock straining against your stomach, just begging for attention.

You bring your hand down and rest your index finger lightly on the slit. Asra shudders at the touch, but certainly not complaining. He’s slick, just as you expected, and you lightly circle his tip.

“You go on and on about how ready I am.” You tease, “but look at you, practically cumming into my hand already.” You lift your fingers and bring them to your mouth, tasting his salty sweetness. Asra’s diet is rich with fruit and vitamins, and oh how you loved how he tasted as a result.

Watching you lick your fingers coyly has Asra’s eyes drooping with lust. “My dear, oh my love,” he whispers. “How I am going to fuck you until I fill you with that cum you love so much. Because it’s true, you love it don’t you.” He says, voice sugar sweet, expecting an answer.

You blush, despite your best efforts. You look at him, but he only blinks in return, waiting.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice thicker with need than you realized. You give up trying to be bashful. “Yes, yes. I love your cum, how it tastes, how it feels when you fill me up. I want it so bad.” You beg, looping your arms around his neck so your lips are just inches apart. “You have my heart, soul, and body.” The words tumble out naturally, “and gods, do I need you now.”

Asra bites your bottom lip harshly before fully overtaking your mouth with his. He’s moaning, almost desperately, into you. “I love you, my dearest one.” He pants, gripping your ass with his hands. You feel your hips being lifted up and your body quakes knowing what’s coming.

You feel the tip of Asra on the heat of your slit and you sigh deeply, “I love you too, Asra.” You say, bending your neck so your head rests on his muscular shoulder. Your lips find a sweet spot on his neck, an anchor, as he lowers you down onto him. It’s tantalizingly slow, allowing you to feel every inch as you sink lower in the water until he’s fully sheathed in you.

“Oh gods,” Asra groans, both from feeling you pulse around him and from your playful lips on his neck. “You are a gift to me.” He says, breathless from the feelings.

You smile, in delight from your lovers sweet words. Slowly and carefully you lift your hips up, at the same time dragging your tongue up his smooth neck to his ear. You suck and nibble on the lobe as you find your rhythm, bouncing steadily on the thick shaft. He feels absolutely amazing in you, filling you perfectly.

Asra grips your butt underwater with his strong hands and leans his head to the side, giving you better access. He guides your hips to a steady pace, humming appreciatively when you comply. “It has been far too long since I’ve felt your sweet pussy squeezing me like this.” He says, without skipping a beat.

You don’t have time to blush before he picks up the pace, leaving you moaning loudly into his ear as he hits the spot that makes you crazy. “Ah fuck, I agree, I do agree.” You manage, finally finding the words.

The water sloshes around your two bodies, stirring the rosy scent into the air. It’s smells amazing and makes you dizzy with pleasure as every sense seems to be met. Asra huffs gently next to your ear, holding you tightly against his body.

You savor the feelings of your chests sliding against each other, the feeling sleek from the warm water and sweat mixing. Your hips meet his, snapping against each other with quick splashes, making you see stars as he hits every time the spot that has you go wild.

The muscles in your lower stomach tighten and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’re screaming Asra’s name for the whole palace to hear. “Baby,” you say breathlessly, kissing any skin you can reach. His cheek, the corner of his eye, his plump lips. “I’m going to cum.” You whisper into his mouth. He swallows your delicious words and licks your lips in response.

“I love when you do that,” he says, a slight chuckle in his words. He wraps his arms tightly around your middles before bringing his hands up to your shoulder blades and raking his nails down your spine. You shudder at the erotic feeling and arch your back against his hands. He sighs happily when you give him access to this gorgeous view, stretched out before him, stomach and tits shining gloriously in front of him. He puts his mouth on your bellybutton and licks up to the cavity between your breasts.

“Oh mmm,” he hums, pleased with the sweet taste of your skin. “You are a delicacy amongst gods.”

You flush looking down at his lustful face, sucking on your skin, leaving marks where only he will see. He latches on to one of your nipples, moaning in immense pleasure at the feel of it in his mouth. When he nips at the sensitive skin you jolt, a small disruption in the steady bounce of your bodies.

“Damn,” you curse, words choking in your throat. Your nails dig into Asra’s shoulders as he re-establishes the torturing rhythm that has you shaking desperately against him.

“Let go for me,” he suggests in a sultry whisper that has you reeling with a feverish desire. The pressure in your core is building at an alarming rate as Asra thrusts into you, filling you every time to the point where you can barely hang on.

“I-“ you falter, eyes rolling as you feel that familiar tingle across all your limbs. Oh gods, you can’t stop it now. “Asra, oh fuck, ASRA-!” You scream head thrown back. Your walls clench, and the knot comes undone. It’s amazing, you almost want to laugh in pleasure at the feeling of coming around Asra’s cock. It’s so good you almost forget to breath.

Asra curses under his own breath as he fucks you through your high, barely holding on himself. You bring your head back down and kiss him deeply, tongue joining his. It’s a short lived battle to hang on and in a flurry of short gasps you feel him cumming inside you, unable to stop himself from the uncontrollable waves of pleasure that come from your hot walls clenching around him.

You both continue to kiss each other lovingly, slowing down gradually until you’re sitting on his lap. Eventually, you pull away a couple of inches, looking into your beloved’s eyes.

“Hello,” you say, smiling at your favorite magician. Asra’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, looking at you through hazy eyes. He kisses you again, gently, pleasantly.

“Hello,” he returns, after a minute. He runs his hands up your back, massaging as he goes. “You,” he adds lovingly, “are so beautiful.”

You smile adoringly. “Thank you, Asra.” You remove yourself from his lap and wade through the water towards the collection of bottles on the wooden shelf nearby. You grab a few that you felt suited the two of you best and turned to your lover. Asra had lifted his arms to rest on the sides of the bath and was looking at you with admiration.

“May I wash your hair?” You ask setting down the bottles, but keeping a lilac scented shampoo for Asra. He smiled at you, his face soft and kind.

“That would be amazing, my love.” He said, leaning his head back into the water to dampen it. You squeezed some of the lovely smelling shampoo into your hand and waited. Asra emerged a moment later and kissed you adoringly on the nose.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “For always taking care of me.”

You kissed him back, a peck, before turning him so his back was facing you. You rub your hands into a lather before working them into Asra’s soft hair.

“I always will, forever.” You say softly, happier than ever.

[whirlybirbs]

         (  chapter 6′s gif by @buckysbarnes​​ from this lovely set !  )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  6/?

summary: gunshot wounds, panic attacks, and evil next door neighbors.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 5.3k, a filler before the real sexual tension.

a/n: be warned, this chapter has a diy medical procedure where bucky removes the slug from rabbit’s shoulder. it’s nothing too graphic, but keep that in mind! also, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has rec’d, reblogged, commented, kudos, liked, looked at this fic. the response to every chapter has been so overwhelmingly kind and i’m so thankful that i have the oppurtunity to share this fic with you all. that being said, i broke this chapter up. next week has some spice. ;-)

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Bucky wakes up with a headache that feels like someone’s tapped an icepick between his eyes. A fire-bright burn radiates under his ribs.

It’s a slow creep back to reality — he just lays there and stares at the peeling wallpaper that meets the corner of the ceiling for a while, knowing deep in the back of his muddled, confused thoughts that he most likely has a nasty concussion, maybe a few broken ribs.

How? Hm. Fighting. Music? The club.

Rabbit.

He sits up fast and Bucky’s blue eyes struggle to adjust in the low-light of the scarcely furnished apartment. The searing pang of his headache is enough to make his stomach churn, but he’s had worse. So much worse. This is manageable. So, he swallows down the nausea and looks around the room like a wounded animal — and almost immediately, relief greets him at the sight of you in the armchair across from the couch.

Your hair is a mess, falling from it’s previous style that you’d proudly worn to The Glass Cannon. Your lipstick is smeared, there’s glitter on your cheeks, and your make-up has transitioned from starlet beauty to broken-hearted bombshell. Bucky notices, with a bit of dismay, that you’re even missing an earring. There’s a nasty bruise forming along the peak of your cheekbone and a gash there from when Alexei had cracked you across the face with the pistol — and even despite all this, Bucky can feel his heart clench at the sight of you. A good clench. The sort that makes his heart kick into a stutter step.

You look… well, you look like someone who’d had the shit choked out of them and then was shot.

Shot.

Your jacket, punched clean through with the single bullet hole, is hanging over the back of the chair and there’s gauze taped to your shoulder. You’re leaning your good cheek in your hand, attention turned totally to Bucky, where you’ve fallen asleep. From here, you’re a picture of exhaustion.

Anxiety flashes in his heart and he swings his legs over the edge of the couch.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Take it easy.”

It’s the woman from before, Kiwi, and she’s got an ice pack in her hands. It’s wrapped in a ratty, green dish towel, and she hands it off to Bucky with a pitiful little look. Rounding the couch, Bucky finally gets a better look at her.

She’s older than you, maybe by a handful of years, but sharp and beautiful nonetheless. Her hair is dark as night and the tips are drenched in a lime colored dye. Her eyes are dark, too, ringed by kohl and glitter, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever seen her before.

“You heal quick,” she says quietly as she plops down into the chair across the room. On a makeshift desk, there’s a laptop, “Care to explain how you know our dear friend Rabbit here?”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Again, his eyes fall on your sleeping form.

He maneuvers the ice pack in his hands, then gently presses it to his ribs. He melts a bit, ignoring the evident tears in the silk shirt. He feels bad — he’d busted some of the seams in the midst of the brutal scuffle and it seems like this artifact of Jaimie’s was most likely beyond salvation.

His dog tags jingle against his chest.

“Therapy,” Bucky croaks, “We, uh, we met in therapy.”

A new voice comes into the picture now, one that’s muffled by a mouthful of food.

“That’s cute.”

It’s the other one, Climber. He’s traded in his all-black, all-polyurethane outfit for an expensive looking t-shirt. Without the strobes, without the tunnel vision, Bucky can now see the intricate buzz cut that sits beneath the mountain of blue curls on his head. There are patterns buzzed into his tight-shave. He’s got a smile, too, the glimmers a little too artificially. Bucky spies crystals inset on his incisors between bites of what looks like a bowl of cereal with no milk. Spoon and all.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” Climber says as he plops down next to Bucky on the couch, “What’d you say your name was?”

A hand is jutted his way. Bucky blinks. He shakes it with his vibranium hand.

“I’m Bucky.”

“Well, I’m gay and you’re gorgeous,” he says candidly, giving it a good shake, “So, if that’s of any interest—”

“Can you please shut up, Climber?” comes an irritated rasp from you in your armchair. Bucky turns to watch as you raise your head and rub your eyes, “Christ, I just fell asleep.”

“And your little supersoldier just woke up,” Kiwi chirps from her preoccupation with the laptop and contents on it, “So why don’t you stop being a little baby and let him look at that gunshot wound.”

Bucky’s face falls flat. He drops the ice pack to the coffee table with a thwunk.

You sit up, gingerly trying to maneuver yourself so as to not bother both your ribs and your shoulder. It takes a moment, but finally you’re sitting up with only a dull ache of pain throbbing beneath your skin. Now, the real sting comes from the bitter look Bucky has pinned you with.

“You haven’t cleaned it yet?”

“The shits in the kitchen,” Kiwi waves at Bucky, as if to say told you so, “She fuckin’ refused to let me take care of it.”

“You’re going to get an infection if it stays in you any longer,” he snaps, standing to his feet, “Get up.”

“Kiwi isn’t exactly the most gentle person I know,” you manage to supply as an excuse as you move through the room, “And I know that thing isn’t coming out without a fight.”

He can feel the grey hairs coming in already.

You stand slowly, and Bucky looms behind you as you weave into the small apartment’s kitchen.

It’s barely lived in, but a few years ago it most definitely had life. Now, it’s mostly abandoned save for a few necessities. Kiwi had told you, a long time ago, about this spot — it was her parent’s place before the Snap. After the Blip, they ended up moving back to Massachusetts. Now abandoned by anyone seeking to really live in the one bedroom, it sits collecting dust until Kiwi inevitably needs it.

Like now.

“Up on the counter.”

You wince at his tone, but still thankful to be away from Kiwi and Climber’s prying eyes.

For the entire time Bucky had been out, you’d been subjected to a myriad of questions — all were fair, really, since Bucky did just bust out the Avenger-level super-moves on some Russian mafiosos for your sake, vibranium arm and all. The arm was really the biggest stuck point in the conversation as you tried your best to explain the nature of your relationship with the unconscious supersoldier on the couch. It was met with plenty of looks, both curious and skeptical.

You’re slow to hop up on the dusty marble countertop. From there, you watch Bucky poke through the kit that Kiwi had pulled from under the sink.

Then, with the calculated process of a man who has pulled one too many bullets from himself, Bucky slams the kit shut and wanders into the bathroom.

He returns with a pair of large tweezers. He’s silent as the dead as he rummages for a pan, fills it with water, and sets the gas burner on. He stares, watching the pot boil, as his foot taps against the floor.

You swallow down any comments.

There’s a clean towel beside you, and Bucky casually reached into the boiling water with his vibranium hand to retrieve the tweezers — whether or not he purposely ignored the pain is lost on you. You’re too busy anxiously spiraling into silence.

(He’s trying to ground himself, to feel something other than panic. It’s a mild spike, but it’s still panic. Because you’re hurt. Because you still have a fucking casing lodged in your shoulder and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. Because he saw it happen and then it was black, and now that anxiousness is creeping in.)

Rubbing alcohol, tweezers, gauze, tape, and… Jack Daniel’s.

It’s from the top of the fridge. It’s got a layer of dust on it — and it’s unopened.

Bucky unceremoniously pops the cap and hands the open bottle to you.

You take it and pause.

Bucky’s gaze is cold.

“You’re gonna want to take a few swigs, Doll.”

You almost snarl. You take a long drink then, ignoring the burn of the whiskey down your throat. It’s only when you’ve had enough to nearly gag that you hand the bottle back and then hiss:

“Don’t call me Doll.”

He takes the bottle and unceremoniously slams it down on the counter.

His movements are rough as he washes his hands — and if Bucky was a better person, maybe he’d take a second and parse through why he was feeling so damn irritable. But, no, no, he could figure out that he was angry at himself and you and Alexei Gardzov and Innessa Sidrova and fucking… everyone because he can’t have any normal relationships in his life without there being bloodshed or pain or suffering. That was enough, and he didn’t want to dig deeper into the nipping fear of losing you, not now, not when he had a job to do—

You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers brush your collarbone. He gently moves the delicate strap of your bodysuit, ignoring the soft skin beneath, and pulls the gauze away from your shoulder.

Your jacket had taken most of the impact it seems. Bucky frowns deeply at the pink fibers clinging to the entry wound. It’s a nasty puckered bit of flesh, smeared with blood, right in the soft muscle of your left shoulder. The hole is a little smaller than a quarter — Bucky recognizes it as shot from a 9mm almost immediately. He’s taken a few of these in his days. He’s glad it wasn’t close range. The burns from the muzzle flash make for nasty scars. He’d know. He has one on his back, right above his hip.

Bucky’s jaw is tight. He’s gritting his back teeth. His headache throbs angrily behind his eyes.

Bucky leans, eyeing the wound carefully. His limited reaction is enough to spark a little light of bravery in your gut, and you move to look at the hole — only to find a vibranium hand rooting your jaw in place. It’s gentle enough as it recorrects the line of your gaze straight ahead. His thumb rests on the curve of your chin as his index climbs your jaw, and the vibranium is warm and cold all at once. It’s an odd sensation. Not bad, but not flesh.

You like it.

(You find your mind quickly flashing with the thought of what that hand would feel like in other places. You ignore it.)

Your eyes are stuck on Bucky.

He’s clearly upset — the pinch between his brows and the evident scowl on his lips is enough of an indication. The bridge of his nose is busted and there’s a bruise crawling under his left eye. The shirt you’d given him is a wreck, and as he bends to snatch up a rubbing alcohol soaked pad, the feeling of shame creeps up on you. The anxiousness that’s settled in the pit of your stomach doesn’t help.

Arguably, it exacerbates the symptom.

The whiskey is slow to make an impact.

But, when Bucky finally swipes the gauze across the wound, your ankles have begun to tingle and it isn’t blinding white pain you feel — not yet. It’s sharp and it feels like he’s touching your shoulder blade when he presses his fingers into the holes to clean the immediate area. That has you grimacing tightly.

His obsidian-hued hand holds your face still through it.

So, you opt to stare.

His arm reminds you of some pottery you’d seen back at the Museum of Modern Art once, on a school trip. In a dimly lit room, spotlights lit up a row of vases that had been gilded back together with gold-dusted sap. You’d sat there for nearly an hour, staring at those things. You can’t remember the name now, not while Bucky does one more pass across the wound. It started with a ‘k’. It was beautiful. You loved that exhibit. Why can’t you — fuck — remember the name? Kinsi… kinsigumi? Gumi. Kintsi —

You grit your teeth and grip the counter tightly. He pauses. You exhale.

You inhale.

Kintsugi.

The seams of his arm remind you of Kintsugi.

It’s beautiful.

Bucky’s eyes flit to yours. He sees your stare.

Maybe it’s the pain, or the half-cocked daze, but the look in your eyes is enough to spur an immediate reaction. Bucky scowls. He yanks his hand back, retreating to the supplies on the counter. He’s pulled, hard and fast, and now he seems miles away.

Quietly, and with a bit more chill than he intended, he speaks. “If it was making you nervous, you should have said something.”

It.

Your head snaps to him.

“What?” you ask, nearly incredulously.

He’s silent. He has the tweezers in his hand now.

Your eyes narrow critically — and instead of shame and anxiety, it’s hurt that flies off your tongue. It’s drenched in enough pain that Bucky hears it in the waver of your voice.

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

It’s nearly a whisper.

He swallows.

He ignores it. He has to. He doesn’t want to know the answer. Either way that conversation goes is enough to drag him into territory he can’t handle right now. Not when he needs to do this without his hands shaking.

“This is going to hurt.”

Your mouth is open — be it shock or anger, he’s not sure. Bucky, however, makes a point of ignoring your expression and your reaction by handing over the whiskey once more. You snatch it from his hands quickly. There’s a look on your face that makes his chest ache. With one last pass over him with your eyes, you take a long swig.

You feel like crying.

You won’t, though. Not now. Not while he does this.

You deserve this.

And holy fucking hell does it hurt. It’s like someone’s taken a hot poker and punctured your skin, then rotated it around and around and around. You can feel every time the tweezers touch the bullet because the metallic little click echoes in your chest. It’s enough to make your head spin, and you grit your teeth and close your eyes and try to breathe — but even after a handful of minutes, when Bucky finally retrieves the slug, there’s no relief. Just a desperate throb.

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the whiskey once more.

You do cry, finally, when Bucky packs the hole.

He rolls the gauze up tightly into a cylinder and, as gently as he can, pushes it in.

It’s a horrible choke of pain that you smother into your palm and pant through. It reminds you to breathe, and while you stare up at the water damage on the kitchen ceiling, Bucky tapes a square piece of gauze over the bruised wound and wraps your shoulder tightly. He takes his time, but there’s a curtness to his actions.

Finally, when he begins to clean up the mess of bloodied gauze, you speak.

“If you’re mad at me, then just say it.”

He snaps almost immediately, like a kicked dog. “And say what, Rabbit? That I almost lost you?”

Your mouth slips shut.

Bucky pauses what he’s doing. He drops the gauze onto the towel and he bares both hands against the counter top. He leans and exhales and drops his own head back — then, you can see his own waves of anxiety knocking him against the shore of composure. His eyes move back and forth, he inhales, and then after a long while he speaks.

It’s calmer. Not so horribly mean.

“You should have told me about Alexei.”

You go to speak — but he stops you.

“I mean really, really told me,” he explains, “Had I known he wanted your fucking head mounted on a spike, I would have kept you far away from that place.”

“We had to—”

“No,” he says sternly, standing up full height, “No, we didn’t. We never have to do anything that’s going to put you in danger. Never. I won’t do it again. You should have fuckin’ told me.”

You’re quiet.

“A few more inches to the right,” he says, gesturing to your throat with his finger. His eyes are expressive and he’s speaking like he’s lived this experience, “You’d be dead. Cold and dead and I’d be here, carrying the fucking guilt around with me because I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

His voice splinters at the end — but he’s moved to throw away the gauze and dump the tweezers in the sink. He can’t look at you as he says it, and you know that. Because, just like before, people like you and him have a hard time looking the truth in the eyes.

You slide off the counter.

Your heart is sad. It’s heavy and mournful and weighed down with guilt.

“Bucky.”

It’s soft. He’s scrubbing your blood from his hands.

He doesn’t turn around. He can’t. He can feel the prick of an anxious breakdown beginning to climb into his eyes. Instead, he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and your blood is stuck in the plating of his hand and it’s not going to come out—

Think of what could have happened if it had been a few inches to the right. The arched spray. Blood everywhere. She can’t speak through the gargle, she’s going cold, she’s gone. And, like always, you’re alone again, Bucky.

Then, your hands are on his.

The touch is enough to stop him. It’s enough for him to move aside at the large, inset kitchen sink. You exhale slowly as you run the water a little warmer and gingerly run his hands under the tap. Your hands are smaller than his, a bit more delicate, and he’s stunned into a sharp silence at the feeling of your fingertips gently washing away the crimson blood.

You grab another dish towel from a drawer beside the stove.

Then, in the dim light of the kitchen, you take both his hands and dry them.

It’s the vibranium hand that you pay special attention to, though. And Bucky feels like a fucking idiot — just standing there, just watching as you run the rag between the gilded plating and use gentle pressure to get into the harder to reach spots. You turn it over, and you dry his knuckles.

You take your time.

You don’t look up when you speak. You’re focused. Almost reverent.

He doesn’t deserve this.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say sternly.

His mouth is dry. “Rabbit…”

Bucky shifts on his feet and takes a deep inhale. He feels lightheaded.

The whiskey, and the closeness of the two of you, makes your skin warm. His whole nervous system feels like it’s on fire.

“I didn’t mean to stare, I don’t ever mean to,” you apologize as your hands still over his arm. He watches your irises trace the plating above his wrist. The rag is forgotten, its purpose null. Your words are heavy, and Bucky can hear a little shake in them as you swallow, “I just… think it’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful.

Even now, blood-soaked and sweat-stained. With makeup running down your cheeks and your composure in shambles. Even now, on the run and apparently wanted, you’re incredibly beautiful. Bucky hates how easy it is to admit and how hard it is to keep off his tongue. It nearly gets the better of him. He watches your eyelashes flutter. When you look up at him, the world is suddenly drowned in honey.

“I’m sorry.”

You mean it.

Your bottom lip wobbles.

Bucky, immediately, regrets being so goddamn cold.

You were just trying to help — you were just trying to do the right thing.

“Stop it. Come here.”

The hug is the first time you can remember touching him like this. You think you’ll always remember it, too. It’s sturdy and warm and gentle and honest and you bury your face into the shoulder as his arms come up around your neck. He’s careful of your own injured shoulder, and his fingers find the base of your neck. Around his waist, your fingers dig into the back of his shirt. Both of you ground yourselves in the other’s arms, and for the first time in a handful of hours, you both find peace.

Quiet, sturdy, lovely peace.

And the two of you stay like that for a while in the quiet little kitchen.

It’s not until Climber’s voice rises from the living room that you’re pulled away from Bucky — and even then, your face linger inches from one another for a moment too long. Neither of you say a word, only swallow down confessions that could have been, and move on.

“Oh, girlie, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

Bucky frowns. With your brows knotted tightly together, you weave through the kitchen and back into the living room.

Kiwi has sat up and both her and Climber have their eyes on the bulky flat screen on the dust-covered entertainment center. It’s cable news, and as Climber leans to turn the television up, a picture of you flashes across the screen.

It’s a photo from your arrest six months ago.

“Local authorities are asking that anyone with information on the whereabouts of this young woman call the FBI’s anonymous tip line—”

“Is there a reward?” Climber whispers almost excitedly, eyes on the screen.

“—Authorities are offering $100,000 dollars to the person who provides enough information to lead up to this dangerous fugitive’s capture.”

“Dangerous fugitive?” hisses Bucky.

“A hundred thousand dollars?” cries Kiwi, “Who the fuck did you piss off?”

You inhale deeply as you wave your hands. “The bigger question is who the fuck knew I was going to The Glass Cannon last night. Because they’re looking for me — not you.”

You point at Bucky and the gears are turning in your head.

The pacing is almost immediate, and Bucky crosses his arms tightly as you begin to walk back and forth behind the full length couch that Climber is currently spread out on.

It’s cut short, though, by Kiwi’s laptop chiming successfully.

“Well,” she stands quickly, “I have a feeling that someone knows you’re onto them. And the facial recognition software just got a match. A three point one, too.”

Your eyes brighten.

You’d given Kiwi the photo of the young Innessa, with all her decorated furs and blonde curls. She’s laughing and she’s young and she’s in love and it’s hard for you to imagine a woman like her to be dangerous. While you’d made sure Bucky was propped up comfortably on the couch and then finally calmed down from the adrenaline high enough to get comfortable yourself, Kiwi had dug out the hard-drive she kept on her at all times and began pulling data from the Alexandria Library files.

It had been a handful of hours, so it was clear that Innessa had hid herself well in the vast, expansive database SHIELD kept for all those years while it was in operation.

Bucky is quick to gather behind Kiwi, eyes scanning the screen.

Sure enough, when you come to look at the photos pulled up on Kiwi’s screen, there’s a hit. There’s an identification card photo of an older woman, maybe in her forties, pulled up alongside the photo Bucky had given you. Her hair is no longer blonde, but deep auburn color. She’s marked as having worked with Rumlow — a supervisor of some sort. Makes sense. You didn’t need to see a picture of Crossbones to remember Brock. Even when you’d interned, he’d been infamous.

And that was when he was one of the good guys.

There’s a handful of other photos of her — candids, professional photos, and even one where she is shaking Tony Stark’s hand.

And in all of them, you see your next door neighbor Bonnie McLayne.

“Fuck.”

Bucky blinks. Kiwi turns to look at you over her shoulder.

Again, you speak. Your eyes are wide. You can’t look away from the screen.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Rabbit…?”

“Fuck.”

Bucky’s face narrows considerably, confusion melting to make room for realization.

His voice is quiet.

“Do you know her?”

“Oh my god,” you say loudly, shaking your head and blinking, “Oh my fucking god, that’s my neighbor.”

Bucky can feel his whole face go clammy.

“The neighbor who—”

“—Who I showed your fucking picture to,” you nearly shriek, “Like it was some cute little matchmaking game!”

Immediately both hands are over your face as you throw your head back. Now, the pacing has begun, and like you’re being carried on autopilot, you begin to move back and forth and back and forth and—

“You don’t think she’d hurt Poke, do you?”

“Rabbit.”

“Oh god, oh god—”

Oh.

Oh, you’re having a panic attack.

Oh, that was quick. Brutally fast. Nearly immediate.

After all, she knows where your family lives. She gets Holiday cards from mom to give to you. She’s been your closest friend for nearly six years. But she’s not Bonnie, she’s Innessa fucking Sidrova. She’s seen you with Bucky. She knows — she knows a lot and you don’t know anything and you’re miles from home, from Poke, from Mom, from Ana… Oh, god, the baby. The baby.

“The baby.”

Bucky’s voice is level. “Rabbit, you gotta calm down.”

“I have to call my mom.”

“No,” Kiwi snaps immediately, “They’re going to be watching for your cell phone pings. No calls, no texting, none of it. And god forbid this woman is one step ahead of the FBI—”

“Oh, god.”

You gasp like a fish out of water, paralyzing fear sending you to lean against the back of the couch.

You claw at your chest and try to remember what Dr. Hart said about these sorts of moments. Square breathing. In and hold and out and hold. Again and again.  

“Sit down,” Bucky says as he returns to your side, nearly sweeping you up long enough to plop you down into the armchair from before, “And do me a favor and breathe.”

The whiskey isn’t helping right now.

“I’m trying.”

Another gasped breath.

Climber and Kiwi watch.

Bucky shakes his head sternly, kneeling on one knee and snagging your hands. “Don’t try. Just do it. You can do it. Just follow my lead — you’re the sidekick, after all. Remember? C’mon. There’s the smile. Breathe.”

So you do.

In, hold. Out, hold. You draw a square with one hand on your jeans and hold onto Bucky’s with the other.

Again, in and hold. Out and hold.

And again.

And then, you just listen to Bucky’s breathing.

You’re not sure how long it takes — half an hour, ten minutes, who knows — but finally you’re able to calm the spiraling thoughts in your head. Finally, the loudness quiets down, you catch your breath, and the world isn’t falling apart. The bite of anxiety still remains in the hollow of your chest and Bucky can see that when you finally open your eyes and squeeze his hand.

There’s that look again between the two of you. The one from before, in the kitchen.

“Good?” he asks quietly, blue eyes swimming with some sort of emotion you can’t really pin down. Not now. Maybe, if you’d been a bit more collected, you would have seen it as infatuation. But, no. It’s just… nice.

You swallow and nod.

“Damn, girl,” says Climber from his spot on the couch, “Now I’m starting to get the whole therapy thing.”

“Thanks, dickhead.”

“That’s recent, isn’t it?” he asks, genuine worry crossing his face as he stands to gently pass a hand over your back, “I don’t remember it ever being this bad.”

Your face is sad. “I was just partying through it back then. Distraction was always the best method and then… When I had no more distractions and it was just me? Alone? And, psh, the accident with Jaimie? It got worse. So much worse.”

Climber’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry, bunny.”

You try to put on a brave face.

Bucky stands from in front of you and begins his own pacing. This one isn’t so much born out of anxious nature — but more of a tactical logic born out of keeping you safe.

This wasn’t exactly the turn he was expecting.

“You didn’t recognize her?” he asks after a moment, voice high and tight.

“I’m sorry,” you wave a hand, exasperated, “She doesn’t exactly look the same as she did in the 70s.”

Kiwi frowns at the screen. “Definitely botox.”

Bucky squints. He looks to you for an explanation.

You vaguely gesture to your face.

His brow lifts, he closes his eyes, and he sighs.

Kiwi is next to pipe up. “It explains why the feds are looking for you, especially if she saw you with the one man she knows is looking to hunt her down — so, I think it’s best the both of you lay low for a couple of days.”

“Not to mention,” Climber wags a finger, “Bucky the Babe over here did just piss off one the smaller Russian crime families in New York. So, there’s always that ontop of the evil Nazi-HYDRA-woman-next-door.”

You groan.

“Poke has enough food for a week,” Bucky says nearly reading your mind, “He’ll be fine.”

“So, what? We just wait here? Until something happens?”

“Sidrova is going to try and bait us out,” Bucky mutters, “She knows she can’t just disappear. She’s been settled for too long and we know too much. Engaging us in an altercation is how she’ll do it. Plus, I have a feeling she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot me in the knees after a few decades. So, we wait.”

“Few decades?” Kiwi whispers.

“How old are you?” Climber asks.

“Hundred and six.”

Both of them just blink at an unphased Bucky.

You sigh, finally standing on wobbly legs. “This feels like a bad idea. I’m just stating that for the record.”

“Better than her hunting the both of you down,” Kiwi supplies, “You can stay here. There’s cable, there’s booze, and there’s plenty of instant ramen to last you until winter.”

“Stale cereal, too.”

“Wait— where are you two going?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, “You’re leaving?”

“Keeping our hands clean,” Kiwi says, closing her laptop, “And letting you be the sidekick, bunny.”

The sadness in your heart grows a little heavier at those words, but there’s a little bit of pride in Kiwi’s tone. As she stands, she moves to wrap her arms around you in a gentle hug. Quietly, she murmurs into your hair.

“Your dad would be proud of you, y’know.”

Bucky watches.

Climber is next, and that hug is bigger, more brotherly, more like sunshine and less like autumn.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rabbit.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out as the two of them gather their belongings, “For dragging you both into this. But, thank you. You didn’t have to help me—”

“Yeah, we did,” Kiwi chirps as she knocks Bucky on the arm three times, “Keep her safe, aakarshak purush.”

The Hindi rolls off her tongue with ease.

Bucky laughs. “Bahut lamba.”

Kiwi pauses mid-step. She narrows her eyes. There’s a smile on her lips. “Your pronunciation isn’t bad.”

He shrugs plainly. “I get lunch almost everyday at the Indian place below my apartment, so. The owner has been teaching me some stuff on the side.”

An approving nod.

Kiwi hucks you the keys across the room.

She points at Bucky.

“I like him. Try not to fuck that up, eh?”

And then, the two of them are gone.

And it’s just you and Bucky in the empty apartment.

[midgardianweasley]

The Royal Ball

The Royal Ball

Loki laufeyson x Fem!reader

Summary: There is an Asgard ball being hosted in the palace, Y/N is yet to find a date to accompany her. She’s disappointed when a certain God doesn’t ask her, however, what happens when he sees someone else getting a little too close for comfort throughout the night?

Warnings: lil bit angsty, self doubt, JEALOUS LOKI, fluffy ending

Word Count: 3.3k

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Requests are open loves <3

Y/F/N - Your Friend’s Name

It was a beautiful autumn’s day, crisp brown leaves were falling off of the large trees in the courtyard and scattering the cobbled ground. Loki and I had been wandering around for some time now, discussing everything from the books we’ve been reading to the dreams that have come to us in our sleep.

“And then this huge ghost thing was chasing me around the halls! and if that wasn’t weird enough, you popped up-”

“Ah, seeing me in your dreams are we, darling?”  Loki chuckled, taking great pleasure at the fact that he had made an appearance in my subconscious, completely ignoring my distress at being chased by a supernatural being.

“Funny you should say that, right after seeing you, I woke up. The sight must’ve given me quite the scare.” I scoffed, a smile unable to stop itself from making its way onto my face, eyes meeting his, face etched with shock. With a hand to his chest, he spoke again in disbelief.

“You have truly offended me, love. I never knew you had this side to you.”

“What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.” I winked, nudging his side slightly with my elbow.

“Really? Can you produce illusions?”

“No.”

“Look inside other people’s heads?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Turn yourself into a snake to scare your eight year old brother?”

“I still can’t believe you did that”

“My greatest achievement yet.” He smirked, the memory never failing to amuse him.

His stories always had me in awe of his capabilities, even if it was to give his brother a long-term fear, it was still an incredible talent. Whenever he tells me of his latest adventures or tricks, I always think of how well his title fits him. God of Mischief. Maybe that’s why I liked him much more than what a best friend should, not that I'd ever admit it. Not to him anyway.

We soon found ourselves standing next to one of the windows of the hallway, the crystal clear glass giving a beautiful view of the city of Asgard. From here, you could see the Queen’s gardens, full of flowers in all different colours and types, grass cut to perfection. You could see the families in the town, walking around the different buildings, children playing. It was lovely to watch, seeing everyone enjoy the seasonal weather and the light bounce off of the windows, it was ethereal.

“I never get tired of this.” I sighed, voice only slightly above a whisper

“Tired of what, love?”

“Just, this. This view, this kingdom, it’s incredible.” I looked up at Loki, trying to see if he was seeing the same beauty that I did. He was already looking at me when I met his eyes and upon seeing the way they sparkled, I assumed he did.

“Actually, speaking of the Kingdom, I have something to tell you. There’s-”

Abruptly stopping him from continuing his sentence, voices were heard from the other end of the hallway, though we couldn’t make out the words until they came closer. We gave each other a quick look of confusion before turning to see where the commotion was coming from, hearing the quick and heavy footsteps before being able to put names to the faces.

“Loki! Y/N!” A deep voice bellowed. Was that Thor making all of that noise?

Before I could process any more information, a blur of a pastel pink dress was in my face and hands were placed on my shoulders. I smiled down at the slightly out of breath figure using me as a support stand, it was Y/F/N.

“Wow, Y/F/N, you sound much different than when I spoke to you yesterday, did you drink something funny?” I chuckled, receiving a glare from my friend and a quiet laugh from the God beside me. Thor soon appeared next to Y/F/N, hands on his hips and head thrown back as he tried to compose himself.

“My God, Y/F/N, you run fast.” He pants.

“Care to tell us why you’re both running like madmen through the palace?” Loki speaks, one eyebrow raised in curiosity and what looked a little like concern.

“We..had to..tell you..there’s a ball..next week.” Y/F/N spoke, a bit more stable now, but still in between breaths.

I felt my eyes widen, a ball? I didn’t know Asgard held balls.

“Father is opening up the palace next week to neighbouring kingdoms, in hopes to be closer with them, open Asgard up to more trade opportunities, build relationships and whatnot.” Thor explained, emitting a loud sigh to come from Loki.

“I was just about to tell her, brother. Thank you for interrupting.” He rolled his eyes, half joking, half serious. I reached up and patted his shoulder gently, a small smile on my face.

“Maybe next time Lok” He nodded in response, I didn’t get a chance to comfort him much more before I was being pulled away by Y/F/N. With a small huff of surprise, I gave Loki a glance, silently apologising for our conversation being cut short, receiving a shake of his head in reply, affirming me to not worry about it.

“So.” she begins. “We need to find you a date and a dress. I’m thinking blue. I’m wearing purple so it’s probably best to avoid that one. Hmm. let’s see..oh! I know! we could- Y/N? You listening?” I snapped my head around, not missing the sly smile that was plastered all over my friend’s face.

“Y/F/N, don’t-”

“Loki! He has to be your date. You could wear green and match! If he’s even going to wear green, I'm sure I can get Thor to find out, I assume they’ll get ready together. And black accessories! I have so many ideas.” She clapped her hands, over-excited about the opportunity to plan this evening for us. Except for one minor detail.

“That sounds great, Y/F/N, it sounds wonderful, you’re just missing something.”

“Missing something? Oh, if you mean our hair then i’ve already-”

“No, not our hair. Loki hasn’t asked me, and I doubt he will.” I spoke, the second half coming out more as a whisper, my heart dropping a little at the thought. He’d never really expressed having those kinds of feelings for me and I'd always seen him be close with different girls around the palace, he’ll probably ask one of them.

“He might ask you, you never know what’s around the corner.”

“I guess so, we’ll have to wait and see.”

And that was the last we spoke of it before she went into full planner mode again, while I continued to ponder over all of the thoughts running through my head. I mean, he could ask me, right?

--------------------------

He didn’t.

After talking about it with Y/F/N, I had a glimmer of hope that maybe I was wrong, maybe I hadn’t noticed something that she had, that Loki would approach me and ask me to be his company for the evening.

I spent the next couple of days with him, hoping he would ask me, everytime a pause would appear in conversation, maybe he was finally going to do it. And everytime, a little bit of the hope I had, had fizzled out.

I’d even considered other reasons as to why he hadn’t asked, maybe the King didn’t want him and Thor to have dates so that they could mingle with members of the other kingdoms. Of course that theory had flown right out one of the Palace’s windows when Y/F/N told me that Thor was going to be her date. I was right then, he wasn’t wanting to go with me.

I guess I understood, I’m the best friend, we’d always been that. I think a part of me just thought that maybe he, like me, wanted something a little more. Clearly, I was mistaken.

Y/F/N and I had been getting ready for a while now, our hair was styled to perfection, our dresses were on and both of us were fully accessorized. We were looking at ourselves in the mirror, doing spins and curtseys and gushing over how good the other looked.

“You look amazing tonight, Y/N, really. Loki is missing out.”

“Thank you, and I'm sure his date is beautiful.” I spoke, fidgeting with the fabric of my dress, trying to avoid the subject and the twisting knot in my stomach at the thought of him with someone else all night. “You look incredible! You were right to pick purple, it’s definitely your colour.”

“Y/N’s right, you look gorgeous.” Thor declared, leaning against the doorway sporting a black suit and a dark purple tie, the perfect match with his date’s dress. I could feel my eyes light up when seeing how happy the simple, yet effective comment had made Y/F/N. Rushing over, she engulfed Thor in a hug before leaning up slightly and giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Ah and can’t forget, Y/N, you look stunning tonight.” He gestured to me, arm almost scanning me up and down.

“Stop, you’ll make me blush.” I laughed. “You both head off, I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure? We don’t mind waiting?” Y/F/N questioned.

“Don’t be silly. You guys go on ahead, I'll meet you there.”

With a nod and a wave, they were off. They really did look like a perfect match tonight. I continued to look at myself in the mirror, fixing any stray hairs, flattening any kinks in my dress. Realistically, I was probably trying to prolong leaving for as long as I could. I was excited, but I was turning up on my own while everyone else had someone, it was a bit nerve-wracking. I still wanted to look my best though.

“Stop trying to convince yourself that you look good, you could literally blow an army of men away by looks alone.” A voice spoke, I spun to see who was speaking, the flash of green was enough to decipher who it was.

“You look lovely tonight, darling.” He grinned, the pet name had set off butterflies in my stomach.

“Thank you. As do you.”

“Well, I did put in an effort, nice to know it’s appreciated.” He joked, a breathy laugh left my lips, entertained by his words.

“Yes, well, I'm sure plenty of others will too.”

“The eyes will never leave me, I'm sure. Unless they’re on you, then I'd be surprised if I get even so much as a glimpse in my direction. Someone is a very lucky guy tonight, that’s for sure.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, confused by his statement.

“Well, they get to be beside you all evening, it’s a beautiful view.” He winked.

It could’ve been you, I thought. I knew he was joking, however that didn’t stop the fire in me from igniting.

“I could say the same for you, someone is a very lucky girl.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know if she ever thinks otherwise.” Joking, again.

So he had asked someone. Albeit disappointed, I'm happy he’s happy. Though I still wish I was the girl in question, I couldn't stop him if he was interested in someone else. That wasn’t fair.

Giving him a brief nod and a tight lipped smile, I picked up the front of my dress a little bit and made my way out of the room and downstairs to the ball. I could still enjoy myself, the night is young, I've got this.

------------------

“It was crazy! And let me tell you, my dad was so angry with me. He didn’t let me serve Turkey again after that year.” Charlie, a guy that I had met an hour or so ago, finished his story of the Christmas horror he had, allowing me to relax for the first time that evening. Up until now, it had felt like all I’d seen was either happy couples, or stares from across the room. Usually the second and usually Loki. The same Loki who had a girl’s arm linked with his and was looking at him like he held the world in his grasp. I broke the gaze, finding it difficult to look at the pair for any longer, as I turned back to Charlie so he could have my attention again, a lazy smile was present as he took a sip of his wine.

“I don’t blame him, really, it sounds like you started a riot!” I exclaimed, sending us both into a full on belly laugh, thinking back to the story. This continued for another five or so minutes, laughter turning into a low chuckle, as if we were about to be told off for how loud we were being. Just as my hand had reached his arm to help hold me up, saving me from laughing myself into the ground, Loki and his date had made their way over.

“Enjoying ourselves, I hope?” He beamed, taking one look at me before giving his full attention to Charlie.

“Yes, yes we are, thank you. How about the two of you?”

“Ye-”

“It’s been fine, yeah, good. So, what’s your name then?” Loki interrupted, his date having no choice but to leave him to respond instead.

“I’m Charlie Fernsby.” He held his hand out, greeting Loki. A gesture that was very awkwardly not reciprocated as he let his hand fall back to his side before Loki spoke up again.

“Charlie..Charlie, now, isn’t that a girl’s name?”

“Loki!” I scolded, giving him an evil side glance, what was he doing?

“No, no it’s okay. Yeah, it can be used for girls too, but it's common for boys to have the name Charlie.” Polite as ever, he responded. A mischievous look made its way onto the God’s face. Oh no.

“So, I take it your parents wanted a girl?”

“I- I’m sorry?”

“I assume your parents wanted a girl, considering they’ve given you a girl’s name?” I rolled my eyes, this teasing was unnecessary.

“Charlie, let’s go and get a drink.” I tried to tug him away, only to be halted by another sentence leaving my best friend’s mouth.

“It was only a question, I'm sure he doesn’t mind answering, do you Carl?”

“Charlie.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You said-” I tried to interject, but he was quick to stop me

“I know what I said, Y/N, but I'm speaking to him. Let him answer the question.”

Loki’s date was long gone by now, she’d left to speak to another group of people, presumably another few couples, leaving us three to have this discussion, thing, whatever you would think to call it.

“I’m just saying, maybe they would’ve preferred a daughter, seeing as they’ve very obviously made that clear.” He beamed, expecting me to join in and agree with him, I don’t find this funny. At all.

“Can you excuse us, Charlie? Loki, A word.” I pointed to the door, giving him a look implying for him not to test me.

“I’m in trouble. Wish me luck Carlos.”

“Charlie.”

“I know, that’s what I said.”

I pushed him all the way out the door, into the hallway and round the corner so as not to disturb everyone else’s evening. When I’d made sure there was no one else around, I looked up at the Asgardian, my arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, I wasn’t impressed anymore.

“So, are we out here for some hide or seek, or?”

“What the hell was that in there?!” I raised my voice slightly, his need to always make everything a joke wasn’t working this time. He had his night, his date, he didn’t need to come over and insult mine.

“What was what, darling? I was making conversation.”

“You were making fun of him.”

“No, I showed some concern about his parents choices, that’s all. Friendly advice if anything.” He looked a bit more frustrated with me now, as though he was stating the obvious and it was going over my head. I wasn’t having it this time.

“No, Loki. You weren’t and you know you weren’t. You had your date, she was fine, you were fine-”

“Well-”

“Let me finish. Everything was fine. Until you caught sight of me having a friendly conversation with another guy who wasn’t you. But guess what Lok, I’m allowed to do that! I’m an adult, I can speak with whoever I like!” My arms were all over the place now, my frustration was starting to show itself, it seems I had a bit pent up.

I saw his lips move, I heard something, but it was so quiet I couldn't make it out.

“Speak up, Loki. I can’t hear you.”

“I said, if you think he was just being friendly, you’re clearly out of your mind.”

Is he serious?

“Are you- Loki, you have no right to make a judgement on who and how and why I interact with other people. Not that it should matter to you anyway, you’ve spoken to other women before and I've never said a word or tried to stop you. Why does this matter so much?”

Silence.

“No, please, go on, tell me, enlighten me as to why this bothered you so much tonight, because trust me, I'm dying to know, truly.” I was shouting now, I just wanted answers for his behaviour, I didn’t think it would be this difficult.

His hands had made his way into his trouser pockets, eyes looking everywhere before settling on mine. He looked conflicted, I wanted to drop it when I saw his troubled gaze, but I couldn’t go back in there without an explanation.

“Ple-”

“I like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear, love? That I was so uncomfortable seeing some you get close with some guy that I had to embarrass him in front of you? Something I'm sure my father won’t be so impressed to hear, but there, you’ve got your confession.” His voice had gone much louder than mine, taking me by surprise, so much so that it took me a minute to process what he had said. He liked me?

He turned to leave, I assume because I hadn't said anything for a matter of minutes, but I gently grabbed his arm, tugging him back towards me. I looked up into his eyes again. I was so close that you could see the specs of different colours spotted in them, they were flawless. This view beats the Asgard view anyday.

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Worried I guess. We’d never spoken of moving past friendship and I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“I’m more than interested, Loki.” I grinned, my smile meeting my eyes, never leaving his.

“Not Chelsey?”

“For the love, it’s Ch-”

I couldn’t say his name, a certain pair of lips had stopped me from doing so. As they molded against mine, my hands went up to tangle themselves in his hair, his hands falling to my waist and pulling me closer, I didn’t even think that could be possible. We pulled away when we needed to catch a breath, foreheads falling against each other, smiles painted on both of our faces.

“I bet I'll be in your dreams again tonight.” He whispered.

“I bet I'll be in yours.”

“Always are, Darling. Always are.”

taglist: @horrorxweasley

[teklarn]

I NEED A PART TWO FOR BAUKGOU’S AWKWARD CONFESSION!!

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓽. 2

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

a/n: k the first one kinda blew up and i've been on tumblr for like a week and it made me rly happy receiving the requests ty <33 thank u for all the reblogs too !! this is a bit later than i hoped it would come out b/c half of the original fic was deleted by accident, but i’m on summer break until sept 5 so hopefully i’ll still update frequently. 

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: lil angsty, fluffy at the end

warnings: cursing, one-sided pining, gave reader a quirk, the fighting scene is bs i cannot write action scenes at all im so sorry lol,  second hand embarrassment for our dearest dynamight :(

word count: 2507

pls don't mind any typos! i try to edit to the best of my ability but i tend to type fast and i might miss a few or a lot of things. 

- - -

read part one here my loves !!

you found yourself bored, cheeks puffing out as you swirled around the drink in your glass cup, sitting across from midoriya. he was muttering again, which you’d always found cute, however you weren’t listening this time at all. 

part of the reason you’d rejected bakugou was due to the fact midoriya had requested your attention first, and not as friends. if you’d told bakugou that, it would just wound his delicate ego on top of the fact that you truly had no interest in him whatsoever. 

at the moment, though, he was the only thing on your mind. there was no sudden spark of attraction you’d felt when he’d confessed. of course, anyone would find it flattering that the katsuki bakugou found you attractive. his standards were higher than the clouds. 

at the moment, it felt like something was blocking your chest from feeling something for him, however you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. 

“—it was amazing, right, y/n? y/n?” 

your eyes flickered up to meet the emerald, wide-eyed eyes of your friend. you contemplated lying, but it was no use. shaking your head softly and pursing your lips, you set your drink down. “i’m sorry, midoriya. i’m just kind of...out of it, i guess you could say?” 

he cocked his head to the side. “’out of it’?” he repeated. 

“yeah,” you sighed, head pounding. 

“is everything alright? maybe today isn’t the best time for this.” 

“yeah,” you agreed. “maybe.” 

“do you want to go back to the dorms?” 

you nodded, massaging your temples. “yeah, yeah let’s go home.” 

midoriya let out a soft chuckle through his nose, smiling. “alright.” he offered his hand, and you gladly let him heave you up. 

“i’m sorry about this. honestly, midoriya, i enjoy your company, i really do. but i never assumed you’d catch feelings for me too—” 

“too?” he blinked. the two of you continued on your way back to Heights Alliance. 

you gulped. “yeah, there’s—” 

“are you saying you caught feelings for me, as well?”

your eyes fell blank, lips parting in question. “no, uh. you know what? never mind.” you giggled gently in hopes the two of you would laugh it off without another thought. perhaps you should keep you and bakugou’s quiet interaction to yourself. midoriya and bakugou were already rivals enough. 

- 

the following week was agonizing in many ways. sitting beside bakugou guaranteed that you would get strange, judgmental looks. it never guaranteed his stolen glances. when you’d catch him staring, his cheeks would flare up, and you swore he had smoke puffing out his ears. 

each time, he looked as if he would explode. what can you expect from a guy like him? 

it was easy to assume you’d just pissed him off, though. you weren’t the type of person to tell everyone you’d been asked out, but you needed to speak to someone about it. the thought had been nagging you, stuck at the back of your mind but just on the tip of your tongue. 

you even found that you were distancing yourself from midoriya, who, after asking you out, had insisted you begin calling him izuku. over everyone else, you’d choose him to speak to about the matter, but ever since you’d discovered he had feelings all along, it was strange being around him. 

you viewed him differently. he shot you glimmering smiles and blushed softly when you said his first name. 

“y/n?” 

you twisted around to see mina rocking on her heels behind you. “yes?” 

“are you okay? you seem...how do i put this.” she tapped a pink finger against her lips. “off. you seem off. is everything alright?” 

your brows raised. “oh, yeah. i’m good. thanks for checking in.” 

“is there anything you want to talk about?” she adjusted her hero costume. you and the rest of the girls were currently changing for another training exercise. 

yaoyorozu fixed her hero costume. “i don’t mean to impose on anything, but i have to agree with mina, y/n. of course, there’s no pressure to tell us anything. you’re under no obligation to unless you need and want to talk to someone, but we’re here if you need us, okay?” 

you nodded, smiling softly. “thanks you guys.” 

- 

it was the same training as before, however you were able to select a partner of your own. being that there were 21 students in the class, there was always ought to be a group of three, or one person left out. you’d come into yuuei out of pure luck, as some like to put it. 

you’d found it offensive they’d assumed it was that and not your own pure skill. it’d taken a while to re-convince yourself that you were worthy of being in the class, even if you were usually the odd one out. 

most students had already bonded by the time you arrived here, so finding a partner wasn’t always easy. once you and midoriya had gotten close, you two did most things together, however at the moment, you weren’t quite feeling it. 

surprisingly, your eyes caught bakugou standing alone, eyes scanning the room for a partner. kirishima must have partnered up with another friend, then. it was always them together. 

unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough to avoid either of them. bakugou was already trotting up to you, eyes locked on your figure just as midoriya began jogging to your side. 

in perfect unison, they asked, “be my partner?” (in two very different tones, of course.) 

you blinked between them, about to answer when aizawa came up behind you three. 

“are you guys in the group of three?” your teacher deadpanned. 

your shoulders slumped. “yeah, i guess so.” 

“get to work. you’ve already wasted five minutes standing around.” 

you nodded politely. “yes, sensei.” 

you swallowed. bakugou’s crimson gaze was pinning you in your spot, and midoriya’s lips thinned with a lack of enthusiasm when bakugou looked back at him. 

“get to work, you three,” aizawa repeated, walking away. 

“i can take on both of you.” bakugou cracked his knuckles. 

you clenched your fists. “we already know you’re at the top of the class, bakugou. there’s no need to rub it in our faces.” 

he averted his eyes, cheeks flushing red. it was like a sad, silly way of letting you know you won this fight. 

“i’ll go against you two,” you said, adjusting your hero costume. 

midoriya’s eyes widened. “what? y/n, but—” 

“but i’m not strong enough?” you finished for him. you knew where they ranked in strength, and while yours was just as powerful, if you let one thing slip, your arrows would disappear and you’d be dust. “that’s exactly my point, you two are practically at the top of the class with your quirks.” 

“tch, don’t hold back,” bakugou said, readying himself. 

“don’t go easy on me,” you mocked. 

“y/n, do you really think this is a good idea—” before izuku could finish, you and bakugou launched yourselves at one another. 

you charged forwards. an arrow flew from your hand, twisting its way right through the smoke of an explosion. when it cleared, bakugou was nowhere to be seen. 

a gasp fell from your lips as you turned around just a little too late. your ears rang terribly as your back collided with the ground. 

izuku cried out. green lightning flashed, and he was at your side in a moment. “kacchan!”

you groaned, sitting up. bakugou cut through the smoke with an arm. “fight me, damned nerd. there aren’t any pauses in a real fight.” 

you wriggled yourself away from midoriya. “midoriya, you’re my enemy in this.” 

“bu—” 

“no buts. fight me. and don’t hold back.” 

midoriya noted the determination in your eyes and stood, giving you a sure nod. you were back on your feet in a second. bakugou flew in the air and came crashing down just as fast as he conjured a blast in his right hand. 

attacking wasn’t your best option right now. you were smart enough to know that. an arrow appeared flat at your back and pulled you from where bakugou was targeting. 

cement flew into the air. 

that blast could have wounded you badly. possibly killed you, if he’d hit the right spots. 

in the air, you examined their zealous features. midoriya’s brows were furrowed in that determined smolder. 

bakugou, as always, looked angry. as expected, he charged first, shooting himself into the air. his foot nearly collided with your face, missing my barely an inch. you took your shot, revealing the arrow you’d hidden behind your back. the tip collided with his chest. 

you left the arrow to complete its command and stick your blonde opponent to the wall and trap him there while you went after midoriya. 

while he bested you in strength, you did the same to him when it came to speed. you dodged his punches like they were weak attempts at hitting a ball in a park. 

you grinned. in a battle of strength and speed, whoever landed the first hit would win. there was no question. 

twisting in the air, you allowed the ball of your foot to shove midoriya to the ground. he cried out as his face was crushed into the cement. 

it was perfect timing, as bakugou ripped free of your hold, the arrow keeping him in one spot dissolving into air as soon as its purpose was lost. 

your head whipped around to see him charging for you. 

your fingers curled. the headache pounding at your temples was beginning to get hard to ignore. 

bakugou launched himself at you, spinning in the air like a missile. he really wasn’t going to howitzer you...right? 

when he didn’t slow down, you threw your body to the right, the attack just barely missing your leg. it scorched a bit of your thigh. a groan fell from your lips as you cupped the area around the burn, shuddering with pain. 

bakugou’s chest was puffed proudly as he marched up to you, hands cracking with excited explosions. 

he pulled back his right arm, ready to spark up another fight as midoriya recollected himself. you bit your lip to hide the fact you were quivering. 

it was sudden, but bakugou paused when he saw your hand fly up. 

“give me a minute...” you gasped out, skin still sizzling. 

“y/n! are you alright?” 

you didn’t respond. midoriya smacked his friend’s arm. “kacchan! what’re you thinking?”

“midoriya, i’m fine. don’t stress over it.” you limped to your feet, rejecting the extended hand from your green-haired friend. “i’ll just go see recovery girl.” 

“do you need—” 

you smacked midoriya’s hand away, a little bit more rude than you intended it to be. “i’ll be...fine.” you offered a weak smile to hopefully make up for your tiny outburst. 

although you could see in his eyes he wanted to help, midoriya nodded and stood by, hand falling back to his side. you clutched around the patch of burned skin. the sting had faded a bit, however there was a soreness to the wound that felt like a constant stabbing to your leg. 

you swallowed the pain down, marching towards the exit with determination and a bit of a limp.

you looked back to see midoriya had gone off to tell mr. aizawa what was going on. your teacher nodded, understandingly. 

there were a few worried glances and offers for help in the hall, but you’d neglected them all and found yourself relieved to see recovery girl in her office, typing away. 

she turned as the door opened. “please knock beforehand next time—oh, dear. y/n? are you alright?” 

you gave a tense nod. “mhm. just got a bit banged up in training today.” 

the old woman pursed her lips, smile lines becoming evident. “i see.” she led you to the small cot reserved for patients such as yourself and directed you to sit down. 

she examined the bruise. “it’s fairly bad. what happened?” 

you made a gesture to the door. “i was brawling with bakugou and things got...intense.” 

“that boy has quite an extreme side to him, as i’ve come to notice.” 

“mhm,” you agreed. 

“unfortunately, y/n, i have no ointments to be able to treat this properly.” 

you nodded sheepishly before the old woman smooched your cheek. a soft green glow radiated around you. 

when she pulled back, she said, “now, your body will be trying to catch up on the healing process. that’s what my quirk does. speed up recoveries. since it’s sped up, you’ll require some rest, preferably sleep. i’ll make sure your teachers know you’re excused for the rest of the day, sound good?” 

“yes, thank you recovery girl.” 

she pushed herself out of her rolling chair and left the room, smiling at you.

your eyes fluttered shut not long after that. 

- 

the sun was gone when you woke up, the hallway light flickering off. 

“good, you’re awake.” 

you looked to the left. you cried out, gathering the white sheets around yourself despite being completely clothed. “bakugou! what the hell? you stalker! you creep!” 

bakugou took the slap you gave him on his arm. it was light, and didn’t do much damage. 

“what...what do you want?” 

even in the dark, you could tell bakugou’s cheeks were burning red. “about...about the other day. i wanted to talk to you about it.” 

your chest fluttered in unwanted hope. “there’s nothing to talk about.” 

“dammit, y/n, i wish there wasn’t anything to talk about. you’re insufferable and annoying and i can’t stand being around you because no matter what’s going on, you make my chest feel all funny. it’s stupid, and i can’t take my eyes off of you.” 

heat rushed to your cheeks. “i’m flattered, really. but i-” 

“i’m not asking you to reciprocate my shitty feelings. if anything, it’s better if you don’t.” 

“bakugou, i wasn’t...” you paused. 

“you what?” he snapped, voice soft despite his tone. 

“i was going to say that ever since you...ever since you asked me out, i’ve been conflicted about my own feelings.” 

“the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“i’m not sure if i like you back or not, bakugou. but hearing you say all this...makes me want to give it a shot. sort of. also, why the hell are you watching me sleep?” 

bakugou swept hair from his eyes. “don’t go and try to change the subject on me, dumbass.” 

you gulped. 

“so what’re you saying?” 

“i’m saying,” you started, “i’m saying that maybe i want to go out on that date with you.” 

“say it again.” 

“what?” you looked up, his eyes boring into yours. 

“i said i want you to say it again. tell me you want to go out on a date with me.” 

it startled you how sure he was when he knew what you wanted, too. this was unlike the last attempt to ask you out. 

“katsuki bakugou, i want to go on a date with you.” 

he grinned. “where to?”

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Eight

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: the beginning of the end :,) if u made it this far i think ur cool

***

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Lana asks.

Nesta closes her eyes, letting the picture swirl and take shape in her mind.

This time last year, she would have imagined nothing. Nothing but a desk in a busy law office, and maybe a nice apartment if she was lucky. That would be it. But now she sees…

“Somewhere with good food and good music,” she muses. “Maybe a sea breeze.” The sun-faded buildings of Portofino fade into the foreground of her imagination. “There are lots of people with me,” she hears the sound of children shrieking and Cassian’s rumbling laughter, “but it’s okay, because I love every one of them.” Her eyes open. “Is that a good answer?”

A near invisible smile tugs at the corners of Lana’s lips. “You tell me, Nesta. Do you like what you see?”

“It’s a little too cinematic if you ask me,” Nesta says nonchalantly, picking up her bag from the ground, “but I suppose all dreams are that way.”

“It’s a good dream,” Lana says. “A worthy dream, and one you deserve to chase.”

Nesta shrugs lightly, not too worried about the burden of the future for once. “Maybe I will.”

“In that case, congratulations on completing your final therapy session,” Lana says, setting her notebook aside. “You’ve made some amazing progress this year.”

Nesta gives her therapist her signature what’s-wrong-with-you look. “I’m going on vacation, not firing you for good. I’ll see you again in two months.”

“Two months can be enough to lose all your progress, if you forget everything you went through to get here.”

Nesta isn’t stupid. She knows that she isn’t suddenly desperate to make babies or be maid of honor at her sisters’ weddings or some bullshit. She knows that the image she just dreamed up, with Cassian and kids and her unburdened heart, is likely more than five years away. If it happens at all, it could be ten, even twenty years of hard work away.

She’s not nearly finished growing yet. “I’ll see you in two months, Lana,” she repeats.

Lana smiles at her fully this time. “Enjoy your summer, Nesta.”

***

The air is different in the Smokies.

Nesta rolls the truck windows down so she can inhale it, relish it. Wind whips her hair every which way as they drive down the winding freeway cutting through the lush mountains, and something about the look on her face makes Cassian chuckle and press down on the accelerator.

Nesta watches the red needle on the speedometer cross ninety, then one hundred. She can barely feel the June heat with how fast they’re going.

In the end, it was Feyre and Elain that reached out and invited her to the Tennessee summer home. Cassian had made it obvious that he wouldn’t push her to go if she didn’t want to, and at first she really didn’t want to. But Feyre had looked so hopeful when she asked Nesta to come with them, and even Elain had revealed a glimmer of eagerness that Nesta would say yes.

So against all odds, she agreed to go.

Exchanging one mountain home for another isn’t much of a getaway, but Nesta can’t help but be excited. Even with the unhappy memories of her childhood, she loves these hills more than any other.

The pure exhilaration of being back in Tennessee overcomes her at some point during the drive, knocking her out in the passenger seat where she sits. In her drowsy state, she distantly hears the windows being rolled up, before feeling Cassian’s hand guide her head to rest against the glass. The rest of the drive is warm and sunny, enough to lull her into a deep sleep.

The next thing Nesta’s aware of is the crunch of gravel and the feeling of the truck tires slowing to a stop. Fingers brush against her heated cheek, and then Cassian is murmuring at her to wake up.

Blinking her eyes open, Nesta twists around to see their destination.

For a moment, she thinks she’s still dreaming.

“Welcome to Holly House,” Cassian says with a grin. The house in question is quaint and sprawling at the same time, the way most upper class Southerners like their houses. The whole thing gleams with a fresh coat of white paint under the afternoon sun, complemented by a sky blue wraparound porch. Colonial style windows and proud columns decorating the facade of the building makes it look like the setting of a fairy tale.

Beyond it, Nesta can see cherry blossoms. Pink, fluttering cherry blossoms that fly off their branches and swirl through the air, some of them disappearing into the thick woods behind the house. Woods that Nesta has walked countless times before.

“The rest of the guys won’t get here until tomorrow afternoon,” Cassian is saying to her, “so we have the whole place to our—”

Nesta isn’t listening anymore. She unbuckles her seatbelt and shoves open the truck door, hobbling outside on unsteady feet to make sure she isn’t hallucinating things. But no, this is…

“Cherrywood,” she breathes, eyes wide in disbelief.

Cassian gets out of the truck, coming up beside Nesta to slip his hand into her shorts pocket. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“This is Rhysand’s summer home?” Nesta points at the house. “This place?”

Cassian looks around at the building grounds in confusion. “Has been for the last two decades, yeah.”

It’s been eleven years since she last stepped foot on these grounds.

With wonderment in her voice, she utters to Cassian, “I’ve been here before.”

At his puzzled look, she explains, “I lived just on the other side of those woods.” She points to the trees. “There’s an old cracked road that hasn’t been maintained since it was first paved, and you can follow it straight to the poor side of town. Whenever I wanted to get away, I would come down that road and trek through the woods, and I’d end up here. I stopped coming because…” she trails off.

Because she got caught that one time.

Cassian seems to realize it at the same moment as her. His hand slips out of her pocket. “You…”

Nesta remembers a tall boy with shocked eyes and shaggy hair, and she shakes her head slowly in forceful denial. It can’t be true. It’s too much of a coincidence.

But he points at her, then her feet. “You—with the size six Converse,” he sputters. “It was you.”

Before Nesta can confirm or deny it, he grabs her by the wrist and starts tugging her along, up the porch stairs and inside the house.

Even with Rhysand and Feyre’s renovations, it looks undeniably the same as all those years ago. The living room is to her right and the farmhouse style kitchen and dining area is to the left, though she speeds by it all as Cassian pulls her farther inside the house, to the closet beneath the curving stairs.

He lets go of her hand to search the small closet, muttering, “I know they were here somewhere.” But the closet looks like it was stripped empty for renovations, with only bolts in the walls indicating that shoe racks used to hang there.

Cassian turns and heads for the stairs, and Nesta blindly follows him. She also wants to go upstairs, wants to see if the bay window looking out onto the garden has stayed the same.

Like he read her mind, he leads her straight to the room she used to spend hours reading in. It’s smaller than all the other bedrooms in the house, but it’s always been her favorite because of the view.

As Cassian keeps looking for whatever it is he’s looking for, upturning boxes and checking beneath furniture, Nesta drifts toward the bay window. She looks from the cherry blossom trees outside, to the full-sized bed, to Cassian, and a weight drops even heavier in her gut. She has to reach out and grip the edge of the dresser for support.

Finally, Cassian pops out of the closet victorious. In his hand are a pair of ragged shoes that Nesta hasn’t worn in a long, long time.

He comes over and drops them with a thud at her feet.

“Whose room is this?” she asks with a rough voice, still staring down at the shoes.

“Mine,” he answers simply.

“Oh.” She met him before. She met him before.

When Nesta dares to look up and meet Cassian’s eyes, what she finds there nearly robs her of breath: wonder, astonishment, and unwavering fealty. He breaks into sudden wholehearted laughter, which dazes her even more.

“What’s so funny?” she demands.

Cassian gets out between laughs, “What was it Rhysand said about Feyre? When they found out they were close to crossing paths when they were younger?”

Nesta’s earth-tilting shock slowly slips away, replaced by a stern look. “Don’t say it.”

He pretends to remember. “I think it was fate.” A wicked smirk pulls at his lips at Nesta’s resigned sigh. “But I have another word for it, too.”

“Don’t say that, either.” She pleadingly holds up her hands, only for Cassian to snatch one out of the air and intertwine his fingers with hers.

“Soulmate,” he says quietly, now less amused.

Nesta swallows thickly, not having any words for him. All she knows is that he is never going to let her live this down.

“Imagine if we’d gone to the same high school,” Cassian says to her later that afternoon as they lounge in his old room. “Fuck, I could’ve saved myself so much time with all those random girls.” They’ve been swapping childhood stories for the past hour, as if they might find more instances in their history of a red string tying them together.

Nesta doesn’t need coincidences or fateful run-ins to know that a string has always been wrapped around her ring finger, pulling her to Colorado and to that cabin. But for Cassian’s sake, she’ll gladly amuse him. “I would have been a freshman while you were a senior,” she says matter-of-factly. “It never could have happened.”

He hums in thought, head propped up in his hand, elbow propped up against the bay window seat. “Maybe if you were older. You would have been the smart, quiet girl, and I’d have been the player jock, and as soon as we locked eyes in math class, I’d be head over heels in love with you.”

Nesta cackles from where she sits in the window seat above him. “Now you’re just writing fanfiction.”

Cassian grins up at her but doesn’t send a rebuttal her way. The conversation falls into a lull, until Nesta has to reach out and ask, “What are you thinking?”

His smile turns a little sad. “That I wish we weren’t doing this right before I leave for another country.”

Right. That’s what’s been hanging over them the entire trip to Tennessee: that as soon as they get back to Colorado, Cassian is going to be on a plane to Milan.

Getting Keith O’Connell to quit—how exactly Cassian went about accomplishing it, he still won’t tell Nesta—left Rhysand at square one with his search for a team leader for his overseas venture.

When Cassian brought up the idea of taking the job to Nesta, he sounded like he hoped she would shoot him down, talk him out of it. He both wanted to go and was reluctant to leave, like his very soul was glued to his home and he didn’t want to unstick himself.

So Nesta, being his home, had to do the unsticking for him. She nearly accepted the year-long Milan position herself for Cassian’s sake, and it took weeks of coaxing and convincing to put him at ease about the whole thing.

“But we promised to go together for the first time,” he kept saying.

“We’ll still go together one day, and it’ll still be our first time there with each other,” she reassured him.

Eventually, he relented to her and Rhysand’s pressures with a single condition. “I’ll do six months. Not a year.”

Only Nesta knows deep down how much Cassian needs this opportunity. Though Cassian must know it a little bit too, because he wouldn’t have taken the job if he didn’t.

Nesta might have needed him in order to come out of her shell, but now he needs to get away from her in order to find his own shell. Something he can call his own, unburdened by his loyalties to the people he loves. So he can find who he wants to be for himself, without always being attached to her hip.

Rising to her feet, Nesta raises her arms in the air in a full body stretch. Her back and legs ache with being curled up in that window seat for so long without movement.

Dropping her arms, she holds out a hand to Cassian still sitting on the floor. “Come on,” she urges him. “Let’s go outside. I haven’t seen a Smoky sunset in years.”

“But it’s not evening yet,” he argues while taking her hand.

Outside, they explore the garden that leads into the woods while waiting for the sun to slink down the sky. Cherry blossoms ride the summer breeze wherever it takes them, resulting in Cassian sniffling and scratching at his neck as they walk hand in hand.

“Rhysand wanted to take these trees down and replace them with a flower garden for Elain,” he tells Nesta as they walk. His sinuses sound clogged, but he’s refused to go back inside until he’s explained every inch of the land to Nesta. “I convinced him not to because it would ruin the view from my bedroom window. Didn’t I make the right choice?” He throws a grin in her direction.

Nesta’s swallow is tight at that grin. “The view from your room was always my favorite part about the entire place. So yes, you did good.”

His eyes widen at that tidbit of information, and she can almost see him tucking it away as more Soulmate Evidence.

They stroll through the woods for a while, and Nesta points out the path she would take to get to Cherrywood—she still insists on calling it Cherrywood, even when Cassian argues that the house’s original name has been around since the sixties.

“Show me the rest of the way?” Cassian asks her, face lit up in boyish hope. “Show me where you ran away to that day I found you.”

Nesta almost expects the memory of the rundown apartment complex she grew up in to feel like being shoved into sludge: dirty, cold, and slimy. Instead, she finds she has no problem with looking back at her old home, no matter how many ugly memories she holds from there.

However, the dappled sunlight streaming in through the trees overhead has turned from yellow to dark gold, and she shakes her head in apology to Cassian. “Another day,” she promises him. “It’s almost sunset.”

They walk back to the house, rounding it until they reach the front. At the bottom of the hill that the house is perched on stands a pier that leads all the way out to the lake. Green mountains frame the lake from both sides, creating the perfect cradle for the sun to sink into.

They go all the way out to the edge of the pier, as if they’re trying to get as close to the sunset as physically possible. Dragonflies lazily swoop by as the lake is gradually painted in a hundred different colors.

Once there’s more darkness than light in the sky, Cassian nudges Nesta with one of the arms he has around her. “Look.” He points.

Along the shoreline of the lake, little dots of light have lit up to welcome the evening, their blinking glow so small that Nesta almost doesn’t catch it. Fireflies.

Nesta watches the insects flit in and out of the long grasses of the lake shore, getting tangled in the weeds and wildflowers. In that moment, she remembers something Cassian once confessed to her not long after his birthday.

I want to see more beautiful places with you.

Nesta ticks this beautiful place off the long list in her head—the first place out of many that she plans to see with Cassian.

More beautiful than the scene before her is the man in her arms. The man who was kind enough to understand a woman who barely understood herself, and to be her friend when she had none. The man who is extending his kindness right now by not having made any breaking-and-entering jokes about Nesta so far, though she’s sure he’ll pull them out eventually.

Discovering that she once found Cassian, just to let him slip by running away from him, only to find him again over a decade later—it comforts the tiny part of her that’s loath to say goodbye to him in two weeks.

Like Cassian is thinking the same thing, he murmurs into the dark, “I can’t wait to come back to you.”

Nesta huffs in amusement. “You haven’t even left yet.”

“I know.” After a moment, he adds in a low voice that not even the fireflies can hear, “Thank you for convincing me to go.”

She reaches up to squeeze his bicep. “Always.” And then she adds what she really wants him to hear: “Don’t come back until you find what you’re looking for.”

“I better find it quick then,” he jokes. Still, he nods in promise against the side of her head.

The only sound after that is the chirp of cicadas and the occasional lap of water meeting the pier beams. Nesta and Cassian stay outside in the June heat long after the sky turns ink blue.

***

a/n: next chapter is just some ic bullshit so take all ur bittersweet sentimentality here and go

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99 @mystic-bibliophile

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

In the Middle (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello!

Double Lizzie! The beginnings of chaos start here. Enjoy! :)

Summary: Y/n and Wanda take a step forward, but is Leigh taking steps back? Featuring a glimpse into the past.

A comfortable silence had settled in the air at Wanda’s apartment as you both sat side by side, enjoying the peace that came whenever you were together. Being together brought you both comfort even if no words were spoken. You turned your head when Wanda suddenly began speaking so she knew she had your full attention.

She always did.

“You know, I spent so many years angry at the world. Angry that it took my parents, my brother.” Her gaze fell to her lap. “For a long time, it seemed like my life was destined for tragedy and I blamed the world for it.”

Your heart fell. She deserved so much more than what the world gave her. “Do you still feel like that?” You asked quietly, knowing that she had every right to.

“No… It’s like I forgave the world when I met you.” Wanda admitted quietly, her eyes vulnerable when they lifted to meet your gaze. Your heart stopped.

Before your mind could process what you were doing, you gently took her face in your hands and pressed your lips to hers. Warmth spread throughout your body on contact as you became completely overcome with feelings for the beautiful woman sitting before you. You couldn't fight it anymore.

Until you realized what you had just done.

Fearfully you pulled back, watching the way Wanda was frozen in place. “Wanda, I am so sor-” Before you finish your apology Wanda came to life as she leaned forward and connected your lips in a deep kiss. Her hands slid up your shoulders until they were rested on each side of your neck, moving as close as physically possible.

The rest of the world fell away as you lost yourself in the kiss. All that mattered was Wanda. All you would ever know again was Wanda’s lips and the sweet scent of sandalwood invading each of your senses until you were sure you didn’t even know your own name anymore.

You felt at home.

Wanda eventually pulled away, a soft laugh falling from her lips when you chased after her lips. You couldn’t help it, you were addicted after the first taste. “Y/n.” Her giggle was muffled against your lips. “I need to breathe.”

You tenderly cupped her face in your hands, your lips never leaving hers. “Breathing is overrated.” You mumbled unable to stop the smile that formed automatically at the sound of her laughter. “Okay, okay.” You pulled away when your matching smiles made it impossible to continue.

Wanda bit her lip as she watched you, her eyes glimmering happily under the dim lights of the room. “I was wondering when you’d finally do that.”

“I was waiting longer than you know.” You admitted softly, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

A knowing smile spread over Wanda’s lips. “I think I have an idea.”

Your eyebrow quirked in amusement. “Is that so?”

She nodded slightly, the look in her eyes making your heart flutter. The teasing smile on her lips fighting to break through. “It is.”

When she looked at you like that you couldn't help but feel like you were you were meant to be. I’m falling for her so fast. You thought dazedly to yourself, losing yourself in her eyes.

Her cheeks tinted pink. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just happy.” You admitted with a smile. “Things are better with you... Including me. I’m better with you.”

Wanda’s smile was blinding as she took your face in her hands and tenderly pressed her lips against your once again. Your lips falling easily into the rhythm, as if it was where they were where they were destined to be all along.

______________________

“Leigh… Please… Don’t marry him. I love you.” Your voice shook with each word you spoke, and your vision swam with unshed tears. “And I know you love me.”

Leigh’s lip quivered when she finally met your gaze. “Why are you doing this? Please, don’t do this.” She pleaded.

Shakily, you made your way forward until she was within touching distance. You took her hands in yours and breathed out an unsteady breath of relief when she didn’t pull away. “You needed to know. I love you.” You lightly squeezed her hands. “Please, Leigh, chose me. Run away with me. I know you feel it too.”

Tears flowed steadily down Leigh’s cheeks. “You’re my best friend.”

“Don’t.” You whispered. “We’re more than that and you know it. Friends don’t know the way you taste.”

Leigh’s eyes shut as her face crumpled in pain. For a moment the only sound that filled the room was your shaky breathing. “I do love you.” She finally whispered, and your heart soared because for a moment you were sure you could finally be together.

“You love me?” You rested your forehead against hers, your heartbeat faltering at the way your breath mingled. She nodded, but her eyes remained closed. With unsteady hands, you placed one of her hands lightly over your racing heart. “Does it feel this way to you?”

Her head fell slightly as you gently wiped away the streaks of mascara that had left a trail down her cheek. “Y/n...”

It was over. You knew it in the way she said your name.

“The day we met, I knew I would love you. Even as a child, I knew. I knew I was putting my heart in your hands and giving you the power to crush it. I knew I would leave it with you no matter how many times you did.” You admitted, needing her to know.

With trembling hands you tilted Leigh’s head up to meet your eyes. Your palm slid against her cheek to lightly caress her jaw.

The way she naturally leaned into your touch broke your heart even more.

Her breathing became labored. “Why? Why not just avoid the hurt?”

The tears in your eyes teetered precariously on your eyelids as they threatened to fall with each word you spoke. “Love is a gamble and I knew there was always a chance that I’d get hurt. That I’d have to watch it all crumble underneath me. That we’d always end up like this… But I had to try.”

When her eyes lifted to meet yours again, your heart fell. It was done. A part of you knew it would never be you. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” She said faintly, her voice breaking.

With a deep breath you dropped your hand from her and wiped away your stray tears, forcing a weak smile on your face in the process. “You don’t have to apologize, Leigh. I don’t blame you for any of it. You never took anything that I didn’t give you willingly.”

"I never wanted to hurt you."

A silence settled between you both as you stayed in limbo. Knowing that the moment either of you moved everything would change.

As much as it killed you, you knew it had to be you.

Gently, you placed a soft kiss to her cheek as you unsteadily stepped away from her. “I’ll be okay. I just want you to be happy.” Your chest clenched with the knowledge that her happiness could never be because of you. You took her hand one final time in comfort. “It breaks my heart that this is what we have to become to each other... It breaks my heart to say goodbye.”

The admission caused Leigh’s breath to hitch as her tears began to fall more rapidly. Her grip on your hand tightened. “You don’t have to say goodbye. You’re my best friend. You can still be that.” Her eyes were wide, pleading. Pleading you not to go.

You took one final look at her. Of how beautiful she looked in her white dress. Not even the tear stains that marred her cheeks could take away from her beauty.

With a deep breath, you began taking slow steps backwards, your connected hands between you being the only thing anchoring you to the room. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you finally dropped her hand and walked out the door.

You sat up in bed with a gasp, furiously rubbing your temple as if you could physically erase the memory that had infiltrated your dream. The sunlight seeping into the room grounded you as you tore your mind away from the moment that you hadn’t thought of in almost a year.

The blaring of your phone in the late morning air reminded you why you were woken up in the first place. A quick glance at the time let you know you should have been awake regardless.

With an annoyed groan you grabbed your phone and looked at the screen just in time to see Leigh’s name disappear. It had been a week now since her birthday and you were ashamed to admit that you had been avoiding her various calls and texts. You had sent her one message to let her know you needed space.

You needed time alone to tend to the wounds that her words had left you with. Well… almost alone.

Wanda was the exception.

Despite whatever you were feeling you couldn’t help but seek her out. To seek out the daylight that she seemed to bring into your life. She was warmth even under the shroud of mystery. Your mind was so lost in thoughts of the Sokovian woman that you almost missed the chime of your phone that indicated you had a new message.

A voice message from Leigh. That’s new, you thought to yourself as your finger hovered over the message, not sure if you wanted to hear it. In the end your curiosity won over as the message began to play over the speaker.

“Y/n. When you said you needed space you didn’t tell me you were never going to speak to me ever again. It sucks that we were in each other’s lives again and now you’ve dropped off the face of the earth. I think it sucks.” A humorless laugh floated over the line. You shook your head at her frustrated tone. “And you know what? You said you’d be here. If I need you, you said you’d be here and now you’re ignoring my existence. So, why don’t you just think about that next time you decide to ignore all of my messages.”

With a groan you tossed your phone to the side and flopped back on your bed. All you had wanted was an ounce of remorse, maybe not for what she said but for the way she said it at least. You’d call her back.

Just not right now.

___________

The chart in your hands distracted you as the pressures of your life began to overwhelm you. In hopes of avoiding conversation for the time being, you rushed into your office for a moment of reprieve. When you had finally reached the safety of the office you dropped your head on your desk with a tired sigh.

It had been a long week

A soft knock on the door caught your attention a few minutes later. You couldn’t be bothered to lift your head. “I know, I know. I’m going. I just needed to collect myself after my last patient. It was… heartbreaking.” Your voice was muffled by the desk pressing against your face, but you didn’t care.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You knew that voice and it wasn’t your colleague. A groan fell from your lips before you could stop yourself. “Y/n.”

Briefly you considered slamming your head on the desk to avoid the disaster that this conversation was sure to be. “Now is really not a good time, Leigh.” You grumbled into the desk, clenching your eyes shut.

Leigh stepped further into the office as she closed the door behind herself. You begrudgingly lifted your head to meet her eyes. A tentative smile adorned her lips when you did. “The nurse outside said you have time in between patients.”

You pushed a hand through your hair in frustration, making a mental note to have a talk with said nurse later. “I have to prepare.”

Leigh ignored your words. “You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts.” She said flatly.

It was clear she wasn’t going to let this go. You bit back a groan. “Yeah, well, you made it pretty clear you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I-I took the week to myself to think.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ears.

You sighed, rubbing at your temple. “That’s great, Leigh. I’m happy for you. Now if you don’t mind…” You gestured to the door. “I’m really busy right now. Thanks for stopping by.”

There was silence that followed your words which could only mean one thing. Disaster.

When you looked up again, Leigh’s eyes were watery, and her lips were set in a line. She was angry. “We’re in the exact same place we were two years ago when you disappeared from my life. This can’t keep happening!” She marched forward, so she was towering over you. “You can’t just be my friend one minute and a complete stranger the next! You can’t be there and do all these thoughtful things just to disappear again.”

Not wanting to deal with the conversation you picked up your clipboard and moved to leave. Leigh blocked your path. “Leigh, let me go.”

She shook her head in response. “No. I’m so sick of this! Why can’t you just be my friend?”

In disbelief you threw the clipboard on the floor. “Are you serious? I tried to be!” Leigh jumped in surprise. “You make it so hard! One minute you’re kissing me and sleeping with me and the next you’re pushing me away and screaming in my face that I’m pathetic!”

Leigh’s eyes were wide in surprise, usually you wouldn’t bring up the nights you shared together. Like an unspoken agreement. You sighed and picked up the clipboard again, turning away from her as you attempted to collect yourself. “Y/n. I’m sorry.” You could hear her take a deep breath. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

You kept your back to her. “Why say it then?”

“I don’t know! I lash out and I don’t know why.” Leigh moved so she was standing directly in front of you. “I’m just- I’m angry. All the time. But I feel a little less angry when you’re around.”

Even with her guard up, you could see the glimpses of vulnerability that shined through with her words. You sighed, knowing you were about to step back into the hurricane. “I understand, Leigh. It’s fine. We’re fine. I’m fine. I’m used to it.”

Leigh looked at you as if she'd just been hit. “Used to it?”

“Your words. I can manage. So, let’s just forget about it.” You said with a sigh.

Her brows furrowed as she watched you. “Yeah… okay... Wait, no-”

Before she could finish, your pager went off indicating you had to leave. “I have to go now, but friends?”

As soon as you saw Leigh begin to nod you ran out. “Yeah, friends…” She mumbled as she stared out the door you had just run out of.

______________________

As soon as your shift ended you took and shower and changed out of your scrubs. Eager to see Wanda again even if your conversation with Leigh was still lingering heavily in your mind. Thankfully her apartment was just a short drive away and you were knocking on her door before you knew it.

“Hi.” She greeted with a smile that you easily returned, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders ever so slightly at the sight of her. “I was beginning to wonder when you’d be arriving.”

Leaning in you placed a soft kiss on her lips, relishing in the way her cheeks flushed. “Sorry, it was a hectic day at work.” She pushed the door open further and ushered you inside, pulling you into a deeper kiss as soon as the door was shut.

After a few minutes Wanda pulled away, shaking her head in amusement at the way you dazedly stared back at her. “Why was work hectic today?”

You hummed in response not quite hearing her words even though your eyes had never strayed from her lips.

Wanda laughed at your response, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Y/n.”

“Right!” You smiled at her innocently as you followed her into the kitchen. “Just some difficult cases with my patients.” You answered, purposely leaving out what happened with Leigh.

Explaining what happened with Leigh just meant you would have to go into the history you shared with her. The thought alone terrified you. It terrified you to think about how Wanda may react to the information. You didn’t want to lose her because of your past.

Instead you decided to avoid all together telling her despite countless opportunities.

Wanda began stirring something on the stove as you washed your hands. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked. The concern in her eyes made guilt bubble in your chest.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. “I just wish there was more that I could do for them sometimes.” You explained as you dried your hands and moved to stand behind her, leaning your head against her shoulder.

She placed down the utensil in her hand and turned so she could rest her hands on your hips. “Hey, what matters is that you don’t give up. You keep trying when others wouldn’t.” Wanda reassured you as she lifted a hand to lightly caress your cheek. You leaned into the touch.

Just tell her. You thought to yourself, trying to work up the courage.

The hand on your cheek tensed slightly and you could see Wanda’s brow furrow. “Is there something else you want to talk about?”

You tilted your head in confusion. “No, why?”

Wanda turned back to the stove. “Just making sure.” She pointed to the carrots on the counter. “Do you mind chopping those for me?”

Playfully you saluted her and turned to the carrots. “Aye-aye, captain.” She laughed, and you couldn’t help but smile back at her, getting distracted for just a moment as you watched her cook.

Everything really is better with her. You observed to yourself before turning back to the carrots, not catching the way she smiled to herself at the stove.

“Wanda, this is amazing!” You praised as you took another bite of the dinner she had made. “Honestly, is there anything you can’t do?”

A bashful smile spread across Wanda’s lips as she pushed the food around her plate. “I can’t take all the credit. It was a recipe my mother taught me in Sokovia.”

You reached out and took her hand from across the table. Smiling slightly when Wanda’s eyes met yours. “She would be so proud of you.”

Wanda wordlessly lifted your hand to her lips and pressed an affectionate kiss to your knuckles as your conversation settled into much lighter topics.

When you had both finished dinner, Wanda took your plates to the sink. Not before threatening to kick you out of the apartment if you attempted to help her clean. You simply raised your hands in defeat and shook your head at her pleased smile.

Only moments after she had walked away, a phone buzzed on the table. Wanda’s. Before you could stop yourself, you glanced over. Your brow furrowed in confusion at the message that flashed across the screen before it went dark again.

Steve

I need you. Meet me

tomorrow morning.

Usual place.

Before you could think about it much more, Wanda made her way back over to the table. “Do you want to watch a movie?” She asked as she picked up her phone.

You nodded slightly as you analyzed her expression. “Sure. Is everything okay?” You attempted to ask nonchalantly when you noticed her type a quick reply.

Wanda hummed. “Everything is fine. It was just Jules asking me a question.”

A pit settled in your stomach with the knowledge that she had just lied to you. Why was she lying to you?

Part 4! Been loving all the commentary! This part was a journey to write, but now you all have some important insight into y/n's history with Leigh, was it really one-sided? Plus, Wanda and Y/n have ventured into even more romantic territory but they both still have secrets. Alsooo the voice message loosely follows actual dialogue from "Sorry for Your Loss".

Team Leigh vs. Team Wanda, go!

Thoughts and comments always welcome! :)

(p.s. I listened to "Dandelions" By Ruth B. for the first Wanda scene and it made it so cute for me idk, just thought I'd share.)

Tag list:

@khiaraaa-in-spacee // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @halobaby // @madamevirgo // @aimezvousbrahms // @trikruismybitch // @marvels-writings // @izalesbean // @imdreamingblo // @i-choose-you-cyndaquil // @helloalycia // @scarlets-maximoff // @cantcontroltheirfear // @women-am-i-right // @funnysoldier // @myfavoriteficss // @imapotatao // @imagine-reblog // @blackxwidowsxwife // @purplemeetsblue //@cristin-rjd

[ppersonna]

make me - myg | m

strawberries on a summer evenin'. baby, you're the end of June. i want your belly and that summer feelin', getting washed away in you - watermelon sugar, harry styles

↳ summary- an ordinary sleepover with your best friend turns into anything but ordinary, thanks to your ridiculously loud neighbors above you.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+ / nc17

↳ word count- 4.4k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre-  pwp lol, smut, fluff, somehow the dirtiest fluff i have ever written bc there’s some depraved shit in here

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), unprotected sex (dont...pls), dirty talk, rough sex, degrading talk, dom/sub undertones, bratty backtalk

↳ a/n- yooooo dawg this... was fun.  i hope you enjoy!!  ive been in my yoongi feels lately uwu. feel free to comment, message, dm, whatever u want babes.  i love you!

Yoongi thinks if he has to hear your upstairs neighbors fuck for another minute longer he might actually go crazy.

It’s been hours now.  The girl is screaming like a feral cat and the man is doing a terrible impression of a porn star, trying his best to talk dirty but really just calling the howling banshee awful names.  

If only his dick would be as annoyed as his brain.

He knows you’re awake next to him too.  The steady rise and fall of your breathing changed when the bad porn above you began—now it’s faint and too quick to indicate anything but your wakefulness.

“Ohhhhh oppa!” The girl above you screams.

It’s finally what breaks down the silence in your bedroom.  At her wanton sound, you and Yoongi are unable to stop yourselves from bursting into laughter.

Yoongi’s stomach hurts from laughing so hard.  Tears form at the corners of his eyes as you make the bed rumble from the force of your combined laughter.

“God, do they think that sounds hot?” You finally ask after settling down to mere giggles.

Yoongi shrugs and wipes away his tears. “Apparently.  He must like the way she sounds like a dying cat.”

His comment sends you into a spiral of laughter again, and you’re clinging to your chest as it heaves with exertion.

Yoongi is your best friend for a reason.  No one makes you laugh as hard as he does.  No one understands you the way he seems to be able to—it’s almost intuitive the way he can understand your feelings.  

You live for your weekly sleepovers.  You drink wine, watch terrible horror films, gossip about your other friend’s love lives, and fall asleep in your bed together.  It’s never been anything but blissful.

Until recently…

When your heart decided it would beat too fast around him.  When your brain decided to spin and weave stories of romance with your best friend.

Now, you can’t hardly think about anything else around the dirty blonde haired boy.  It’s overwhelming to all of your senses when you see him, feel him near you.  You want to kiss him, to love him, to tear his clothing off.

Which makes lying in your full size bed while the neighbors above you fuck and attempt to act out their wildest fantasies—badly—so much harder than usual.

“God,” Yoongi sighs and tugs the blanket up to his chin. “Does she even like it or do you think she’s faking it?”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust. “Ugh, I know I wouldn’t be into it.”

“You don’t like dirty talk?” He teases with a poke to your stomach.  It makes an eruption of nerves go off in your chest.

“Oh, no I do. But that’s not dirty talk,” you shrug. “He’s just being mean. There’s no sensuality underneath it.”

He hums and lays back down to stare at the ceiling.

“Give me an example,” he asks of you. It makes your cheeks flush red and you’re thankful for the darkness in your room to provide you cover.

“Um, well,” you cough awkwardly. “He’s saying shit like ‘you fuck anything don’t you?’ which, maybe she’s into degradation, but I’m not. Not that extreme.”  Your explanation sounds lame, but you continue anyway. “I prefer to hear things like ‘this slutty little pussy belongs to me’.  Possessive and hot at the same time without being too...uhh...hurtful.”

Yoongi feels his cock rise with piquing interest. There’s a nagging guilt about thinking of his best friend this way, and a tinge of jealousy thinking someone who isn’t him has said that to you.

He feels his throat dry up, and you wring your hands nervously on the blanket. The moaning above you doesn’t stop, and you can hear the telltale sound of flesh slapping on flesh, indicating they’ve commenced into penetration and it makes your body throb with annoyance, and with want.

There’s moments when a louder slap echoes through the room—it’s clear the man is slapping her somewhere—and she whines desperately.  Your core starts building that familiar heat, a slickness gathering you can’t stop. You press your thighs together tight and squirm as subtly as you can. You pray Yoongi doesn’t notice.  

Yoongi, however, does notice.  He breathes a sigh of relief internally knowing he’s not the only being affected by the commotion above. But he doesn’t understand the meaning behind it. For all he knows, you’re just turned on because—well, because it’s sex and it’s loud and who wouldn’t be a little turned on? You’re likely not at all aroused by him, or the thought of him. Right?

Another slap echoes through the room and you can tell by the way the girl gasps that her partner slapped her in the face.

“Damn,” you shiver.  Yoongi turns to peek at you through the darkness.

“You into that?” He asks curiously. “Face slapping?”

It’s hard to swallow for a moment—it feels like you’re trying to down a boulder.

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper. “Yeah, I like pain.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply and it makes you fear you’ve overstepped the line. You’ve gone too far off the ‘best friend’ track and the whole train is about to de-rail.

You’re opening your mouth to apologize for taking it too far when Yoongi finally speaks.

“Fuck it,” he sighs. “You want to fuck louder and establish dominance?”

The world stops turning.  You’re sure that gravity doesn’t exist anymore and the theory of relativity has been proven wrong.

Did Min mother fucking Yoongi, your best friend of over twenty years, just offer to have sex with you to...establish dominance over the neighbors above you attempting to make a cheap porn?

He’s looking at you normally, but there’s a glimmer in his eye that says more.  It says he wants you.  Your stomach twists in on itself.  There’s no way, there is no actual plausible way that the man beside you feels the same way about you as you do.

“You want to have sex with me?”

Yoongi’s cheeks turn pink and he looks away for a minute.

“I also want to date you,” he murmurs.  

If you thought the world ended before, you’re sure this is the fiery explosion that brings a new earth into life with a bang.

The noises from upstairs interrupt the romantic moment with a scream, a guttural howl from the man, and then muffled whispers and sighs.

“What do you say we keep them up all night too?” His mouth turns to a smirk as he awaits your reply.

“Yeah,” you nod as you throw the blankets off you.  “Fuck those guys, lets show them what real kinky sex looks like.”

Yoongi’s eyes turn feral as he works his eyesight down your body.  Your normal sleepwear outfit of a tank top and shorts looks like lingerie to him now and he’s salivating at the way he can see the curve of your breasts, and the press of your hard nipples against the fabric.

You’re throwing yourself onto Yoongi’s body in an instant, pinning him down to the bed and pressing your lips to his.  You waste no time in waiting for him now that you know—now that you’ve heard with your two ears that Min Yoongi not only wants to fuck you, but date you as well.   No use wasting any more time—the time for action is now.

The kiss is hot and Yoongi’s hands falter for a moment in surprise before he’s coming to his senses and tugging at your tank top quickly to pull it off your body.  His hands feel hot on the bare skin of your back, rubbing at your spine and up to your shoulders.  It makes you shiver, and you slide your tongue into his mouth to explore the heat inside.  

His hands navigate forward to cup your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples—pinching and pulling and rolling between the pads of his fingers.  It has you keening into his touch and grinding down on his basketball-shorts-covered cock. 

Yoongi pulls away from you and pulls at a nipple harshly, which makes you gasp out loud.

“It’s real cute how you think you’re in charge right now,” he points out.  “Real fucking cute.  It’s gonna make me almost feel bad for punishing you.”

You’re sure your soul is going to leave your body at hearing your best friend’s sexy baritone voice verbalize your dirtiest fantasies.  If this is how you react now…, may God have mercy on your poor little pussy.

Yoongi thinks he’s possibly never been harder than he is right now.  His best friend, best girl, is sitting atop his boner and he’s twisting your pretty nipples so hard they’ll surely turn purple soon.  You sound so sweet when you whine, and you’re starting to whine louder as he continues the pressure on your tits.

“You thought you could take control, didn’t you?” He asks, slipping further and further into the dominant act.  He loves this, thrives off it.  He didn’t think you’d ever be into it—none of the girls he’s dated before have—and he’s thrilled he doesn’t have to hide this depraved part of himself.

You nod and bite your lip, wincing as he tugs once more on a nipple before letting go.

“Cute,” he sighs.  “But wrong.”

In an instant, he flips you two over and he feels his heart and cock swell at the sight of your sweet eyes widening at the quick change.  

“This feels better, don’t you think?” He asks.  You nod and he shakes his head.  “Answer me, baby doll.  You’re already about to get punished.  You wouldn’t want to make me not let you cum, would you?”

The fear in your eyes increases and you clear your throat to talk.

“No sir, I don’t want that.”  

Yoongi nearly moans.  Hearing you call him sir, being underneath him—it’s his wet dreams come to life.

“Then tell me,” he instructs. “Tell me you need me in charge.”

You’re dying to be a brat, really wanting to pull Yoongi completely out of his shell, show him the full extent of what he can do to you.  Plus, you really wanna give your neighbors a show—a taste of their own medicine, don’t you?

“What if I don’t want to?” You tease.

Yoongi’s grin turns wider and his eyes sparkle with knowing. He’s a through and through brat-tamer, and by the end of the night you’ll be crying for forgiveness.

“Little tease,” he growls as he leans down to latch his mouth on your abused nipple.  

You gasp out loud, and it turns into desperate mewling as his teeth nibble and pull.  You’ll be bruised up for days, surely.  He sucks hard, pulls on it roughly and bites with meaning. You just know your panties are completely soaked.

“Talking back to me, huh? You think that’s going to get you where you want to go tonight, little girl?”

He turns his attention to your other nipple, eyes peering into yours as you struggle to answer with the sizzle of pain in your breast.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You send back with a shake of your hips under him.

The growl he delivers around your nipple and the quick bite makes you yelp.

“I think I should shut that loud mouth of yours up.”

You smile in response and his fingers tug down your shorts.  You lift your hips and allow him to pull the clothing off and you’re left in your slicked up panties.

“Oh yeah?” You retort.  “You gonna shut me up with that fat cock?”

Yoongi visibly shivers. His spine tingles deliciously for minutes after the hair on his neck settles.  He’s dreamed of you like this, under him and begging to be put in your place.  And now, here you are.  And he can’t wait to make it a reality.  He’s even forgotten about the loud neighbors.  It’s now just all about you.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Dirty little slut so horny to get her mouth on my cock.”

Yoongi allows a finger to trail down your clothed slit, and he outwardly groans at how wet you are.  You’re unable to hold back your whimpers of need—he’s so close to where you need him most and where you’ve dreamed of having him.

“You talk a big game for someone who’s drenched before I’ve even done anything,” Yoongi says with a smirk.

Your legs tremble as he pulls your panties to the side to expose your drenched folds. He dips a finger in and touches your clit. You moan in unison—he’s captivated by the heat and slick, you’re feeling air escape your lungs with every swirl of his finger.

“Y-Yoongi,” you whine.  He tsks and pulls his finger out.

“That’s not my name right now.” His hands start to slide your panties down and your stomach leaps with excitement.

“Sir, please.”

“Now you want to be my good girl?” He asks with a chuckle. “Where’s my mouthy little brat who wants my cock to shut her up?”

He leans back on his heels and watches you eye him. You’re nearly bursting at the seams. You’re naked while he remains completely clothed and while you’d normally feel exposed and vulnerable, all you feel is white hot heat. You’re burning for Yoongi, for him to do what you’ve dreamt he could do.

“Why don’t you show me what that sweet mouth can do?”  

He maneuvers to stand at the side of the bed, dick straining against the mesh of his shorts. He waits for you to sit up, which you wordlessly obey.  His cock is now eye level with you, and your mouth feels dry. You’ve dreamt about this dick, about what it looks like and how it would feel in your hand, inside you. The fact that you’re here now, about to find out all your secret fantasies is heady.

Your hand rubs at the straining material, over the thickness of his cock. He feels big, and you give it a squeeze which makes him hiss.

“Still being a tease,” he sighs with faux disappointment. “You’re in a precarious position to be such a little cocktease.  Might need to fuck that right out of you.”

It makes you whimper—his direct threats sounding like smooth promises going straight to your core.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Yoongi growls and grabs a bit of your hair, tugging your head back to look at him in the eyes.

“I think you should shut this fucking mouth up.”  His voice is dark, and his eyes glow with lust.

A grin pulls over your face as you gaze sweetly up at him—his hand still gripped tight in your hair.

“Make me.”

Yoongi is silent for a moment as he stares at you in wonder—his beautiful girl, so rebellious and yet so willing to comply.

“I fucking love you, you little fucking slut.”

Yoongi forces his shorts down and grips your chin, holding it hard in his hand.

“Now choke on my fucking cock.”

You open your mouth complacently and he wastes no time in shoving his entire length down your throat mercilessly.  

It’s hot. It feels like fucking heaven.  Your lips wrap around him and suction and he can feel your gag reflex straining against his tip at the back of your throat.  Yoongi thinks his entire spine is tingling with desire for you and the way you take his cock so well has his toes curling.

You didn’t even get to have a good look at Yoongi’s cock before it was shoved into your throat, but now that it’s there you don’t even need to see it to knows he is fucking thick and long. It stretches your mouth and you know your pussy will be taken to its limit when he finally buries himself inside you where he rightfully belongs.

“Can’t talk back now, can you?” He teases as he begins to fuck your throat. “Mmmm shit—, you suck my cock so fucking good.”

His words are nothing but encouragement for you and you fight back the growing discomfort in your throat and allow him to use it as he pleases.  Tears form in your eyes and slip down your face at the exertion and you soon feel his balls slap at your chin.  You’ve only fantasized of being used like this by Yoongi, and now it’s actually fucking happening.  You’ll be damned if you don’t give him the suck of a lifetime.

Yoongi thinks he’s staring into heaven as he fucks your tight mouth and watches as your eyes fill with tears.  They leak out and he knows you’re loving this just as much as he is by the palpable enthusiasm you accept his cock with.

“Look at my little brat,” he coos mockingly. “Not so big and brave now, are you?  Not with daddy’s cock wrecking your hot mouth.”

He picks up the pace and the sounds turn disgustingly lewd.  It’s a wet, slurping sound as Yoongi forces his cock in and out of your drooling mouth.  Saliva drips onto the bed below you as you take him all, never given a chance to breathe or swallow.  Yoongi takes and you selflessly give. You’d allow the man to split you in half—and you’re actively hoping he does just that tonight.

Suddenly, Yoongi is pulling out of your mouth and leaving you panting and keening for more. He grips his cock with a fist.  He strokes himself roughly and looks down at you.

“Gonna cum, baby girl. Fucking beg for it.”

Your hands grip at his thighs and you’re breathing hard to catch up on the oxygen you were denied.  But it doesn’t stop you from doing exactly as he orders.

“Please, daddy. Please cum on my face.  Let me taste your cum, I want to know what you taste like.  Cum on me.  Mark me, daddy.”

Yoongi whines and increases the speed of his pumps. His mouth falls open as he watches you pout so sweetly and wait so eagerly for his seed on your face. He wants to see your entire body covered in his cum and he plans on ensuring that happens sooner rather than later.

“My eager little bitch. Wants her daddy to mark his territory.”

You nod, tongue sticking out and wagging like a dog for his cum.

“Please, daddy.  Make me messy.”

It seems to be the secret password to Yoongi’s climax. Your desperation, your eager position, the way you beg so sweetly.  It sends him right over the edge and he cries out as his cock pulses white stripes over your pretty face.  

He wishes he could take a picture of the way his cum covers your face.  He’d make it his background photo so he could see it every day, show everyone around him the gorgeous little whore he gets to cum on every night.

“Shit, babygirl,” he groans as he attempts to catch his breath.  “Look at you.”

You smile as your tongue retreats into your mouth and you savor the drops that landed on your tongue.  Your eyes close in bliss as you enjoy the flavor, noting it tastes salty and sweet and you can’t wait to reacquaint yourself with the taste over and over again.

“Lay back,” he orders as he pushes his shorts all the way off.  

In his haste to fuck your throat, he only pushed them halfway.  He slips out of them and pulls his shirt off before he joins you on the bed.

“Let me drink this cunt.”

You whimper in agreement as you press your back in to the pillows and spread open your legs.

“Please, daddy.”

He grins as he lowers himself to lie between your legs.  He blows on it, cool air pushing over your folds chilling you.

“Fuck,” he sighs.  “Greedy little cunt wants it all, hm?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“So compliant for me now,” he whispers as he kisses your thighs. “I like it when you behave.”

He kisses in further, and soon he’s using his fingers to spread apart the folds and pressing the flat of his tongue to your clit and laving it over the aching nub.

“Holy shit,” he groans as he comes up and sucks his tongue back into his mouth.  “Sweetest little pussy.”

You can’t reply, the capability to speak has left you now.  He buries his face back into your cunt and gets to work.  His tongue starts flicking against the bundle of nerves and then dips down to fuck into your channel.  He works his tongue around you and your back arches off the bed and your heels dig into the mattress.  You seek purchase in his hair with your hands, digits gripping at the blonde locks between your thighs.  

Yoongi groans and moans into your cunt, and soon he slips two fingers in to fuck you roughly.

He pulls his lips away and licks his tongue over them to collect the slick that lingers.  His fingers maintain a quick pace and he drinks in the sight of you gasping at the stretch.

“Yeah, look at you take my fucking fingers.  Such a wanton little whore for me.”

He slides another finger in to join, then another, and it makes your cries echo loudly around the room.  He suddenly remembers the neighbors above you and smirks.  He pulls his hands from you, making you keen with desire and desperately beg for more.

“Daddy! Please, I need..” you gasp. “Need you!”

He pulls himself up to join your hips together and rolls his them against each other.  His cock rubs against your soaked pussy and he bites his lip at the feel of it getting slicked up.

“I want you to be nice and loud for me, baby girl,” he demands sweetly in your ear as he licks the shell.  He notes your shiver and smirks, before kissing your ear lightly.  “Tell those mother fuckers upstairs who’s going to take you to Hong Kong.”

“Yes, daddy,” you agree.  

It only takes the consent to leave your lips for Yoongi to spear his cock into you.  He’s not slow or gentle, he pushes it into the hilt immediately.

Yoongi meant to start a pace, to begin fucking into you mercilessly, but he’s frozen inside your tight heat.  You feel so good, so fucking tight and warm and wet for him.  It’s better than heaven, and surely better than any pussy he’s been inside before.  Maybe it’s because it’s you, and no one else.

“Fuck!” He gasps. “Holy shit I could cum right now.”

You whine and move your hips desperately.

“Fuck me daddy! Fuck me hard, please!  Use me like your little cock sleeve.”

Yoongi bites his lip and feels his cock pulse.

“Shit, you’ve got a dirty fucking mouth,” he grits. “Let’s see if you’ve got a dirty little pussy too.”

He sets a pace, desperately wills his cock not to cum yet.  He wants to fuck you senseless, until your eyes roll back in your head.  He’s gonna make sure you get off on his cock before he comes close to his end.

Yoongi grips your chin again, like he did at the beginning as he fucks into you roughly.

“Look at you take my fucking cock so deep,” he bites out.  “Your cunt is so fucking desperate for my fat cock, isn’t it? You need me to fuck some discipline into you.”

You’re nearly screaming now at the force of his thrusts.  He’s pushing all the way into you with each push and his balls smack against your ass deliciously.  You’re babbling, words unable to make sense as he fucks all the brain cells out of you.

“Dumb little cock slut,” he whispers as he leans down to suck a nipple into his mouth and bite at it before releasing it  “Little brat turns into a perfect little fuck hole for me, so fucking good for me.”

“Yes, y-y-yes baby! S-so close!”  

Yoongi’s had you near the verge since his oral, and now with his punishing pace and power in his driving hips, you’re hovering over the edge.

His hand drops down to rub at your clit, a circular motion that has you gasping and screaming his name.

“That’s fucking right,” he breathes. “Tell them, baby.  Tell them who’s got the best fucking cock.  Tell them who fills this pussy up so well.”

You’re eager to comply.

“You, daddy!  Fuck!  You feel so fucking thick in me.  I need your cum, please, please.  Cum on me.”

Yoongi feels his balls tighten impossibly--he knows he’s seconds away from an explosive orgasm.

“Cum on my cock, baby girl.  Let me feel you cream my fucking cock.  Wanna see you all over this fat dick.”

His free hand tugs at a nipple and pulls it punishingly, tugging it so far it pulls the skin around it.  Your screams light up the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls and surely traveling up to your neighbors bedroom.

“Yoongi! Fuck! I’m cumming!” You warn, a millisecond before your world crashes around you.  

Your cunt squeezes his cock so tightly that it causes his hips to stutter in their pace.  It grips him tight, angry like a squeezed fist and Yoongi feels the air get sucked out of his lungs as his climax follows directly after yours.  He didn’t even have a chance to pull out--he’s emptying his load into your womb and whining at the feeling of your pulsating walls milking every single drop greedily.

It’s several minutes later that you’re both caught up to normal breathing and resting beside each other on the bed.  The room is silent, save for little pants and breaths, and Yoongi reaches over to lace his fingers into yours and hold your hand tightly.

“You wanna date me?” He asks sweetly, as if his cum isn’t dripping out of your cunt as he speaks.  

It makes you laugh.  It’s so classically Yoongi that you can’t help but to laugh.  

“Yes, daddy, I want to date you.  I want to date you every single day.”

He pulls you into his embrace and kisses at your forehead.

“Maybe we should send your neighbors some flowers for getting us together,” he teases.

As if on cue, the all too familiar sound of skin slapping against skin and screeching moans comes from upstairs and plays through your apartment like an unwanted jukebox.

“God damn it, our plan backfired.” he grumbles. “I think we turned them on.”

You press your sticky, sweaty body against him and kiss at his lips.  Your hand sneaks down to his cock and grips it again, begging it to come back to life.

“Shall we try again, then?”

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Low Profile (reader x fred and george)

Summary: You and your best friends find yourself entangled in a secret polyamorous love affair, right under their family’s noses.

Warnings/Notes: Cw language, kissing (but no sex of any kind), family not accepting poly/queer relationship, bruising. This is for the wonderful and talented @lunalovecroft​’s 2.7k trope-inspired writing challenge! It’s also part of my loose series of fics that take place over the summer when y/n stays at the Weasleys’ house. No twincest- v shaped poly relationship. Here’s my masterlist if you want more! Enjoy!

Ever since you and Fred hooked up the first night of the summer, you’ve been joined at the hip even more than usual, and since George is always with Fred and usually with you, he had to be told once it was clear that you and Fred were gonna be more than a one night stand. You were a bit sad, knowing that it’d probably make him feel left out, in a way. You noticed that George looked a bit miffed when the two of you told him you were dating, in the loosest sense of the word. 

“What’s the matter, you jealous Georgie?” you tease, putting your hand on his knee flamboyantly. He blushes and you and Fred exchange a look.

“Oh my god, you actually are, aren’t you?” Fred asks, half-mocking. For once, George seems to be at a loss for words. He looks quite uncertain and a bit sad. You figure that you may as well break the tension and speak honestly; it’s more important to you to be frank and maintain your friendship than anything else. You clear your throat.

“George, honestly, if you’d been there instead of Fred that night, I’d probably have hooked up with you, too. We’ll all still be friends. That’s why we’re telling you, so we’re not keeping secrets,” you say, trying to goad him into speaking. He shakes his discomfort off and begins.

“Oh, I knew this would happen! We used to just be friends before the two of you started making eyes at each other all the time. Now I’ll barely be able to talk to the two of you- my two best friends, mind you- without all this lovey dovey shit. What an absolute nightmare!”

You open your mouth to speak, but George barrels on, looking at Fred this time.

“And you, some brother you are. You know how I feel about Y/N, I thought we had an agreement to keep it platonic all around?”

“It’s not my fault they’re interested in me!”

“George, I said I would have kissed you that night too! Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to say to both of you. I’ve got feelings for you, both of you.”

They stop bickering and turn to look at you, turning the idea over in their minds.

“What are you saying?” asks Fred, looking a bit hurt.

“I’m saying,” you take a deep breath, “that I’ve never been better friends with one of you than the other. We do everything together. I don’t want that to change. Besides, you two are identical. Did you think your birthmark was that big of a selling point, Freddie? Of course I think you’re both good-looking, look in the mirror for goodness’ sake!”

They blink at you, then turn away to confer with one another in whispers. You tap your foot impatiently, but when they turn around, they’re beaming.

“So what you’re saying is you’d be fine with us sharing you?” George asks.

“More than fine. I’d be absolutely chuffed,” you say, returning their smiles.

“It’s settled, then,” Fred says, and plants a kiss on the top of your head. You look up at George permissively, and he puts his arm around you and gives you a squeeze.

“One thing, though. Mum and Dad can’t know. Mum especially. She’s not the most open-minded when it comes to this stuff. Especially with us. At least, I doubt she is,” Fred says.

“Yeah, funnily enough it never occurred to me to ask what she’d do if my twin brother and I started a poly fling with our best friend who also lives with us and sleeps in our bedroom, but if I had to guess, I don’t think she’d approve,” George adds, smirking.

“That’s ok. We have a pretty good track record when it comes to keeping secrets,” you say, a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

That evening, you’re helping Molly fold linens when she steps away for a moment to take the kettle off. You feel four hands slip around you from behind and soon you’re pulled into a kiss, Fred on your left, kissing you hard on the neck and collarbone, and George kissing your lips, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth. You kiss them passionately but push them away after a second, regaining your composure.

“Not here!” you hiss, grinning. They exchange a cheeky glance and kiss you on each cheek before scurrying back to their room, giggling. You shake your head and turn back to folding sheets, just as Mrs. Weasley returns.

“My, my dear, that’s quite a bruise you’ve got there, what happened?” Mrs. Weasley clucks, gesturing to your collarbone where you’re surprised to see a dark, newly formed hickey.

“Oh, pickup quidditch match. I’m not very good, I’m afraid,” you say, the rush of the small lie filling you with butterflies.

“Well now, we are wizards after all. We can’t have you running about looking as if you’ve been sleeping under the whomping willow,” she says cheerfully. She extracts her wand and uses a quick healing spell on the spot, which fades quickly. You wonder if she really doesn’t recognize the bruise as a hickey, but you shrug. The twins have certainly gotten away with worse under this roof.

That night, you and the twins are in the kitchen having a midnight snack. The rest of the house is quiet. You’re sitting on the countertop, helping yourself to a biscuit, and George is leaning on the counter beside you. You feed him a little bite and he licks the crumbs from your fingers playfully. Fred is rummaging through the fridge across the room, and George peers into the fridge nosily. Something piques his interest, and he heads over, whispering to his brother indistinctly. You catch them giggling, and can hear snatches of their conversation. They appear to be working on something as they chat eagerly.

“Take the…”

“... and the… yes! Use a…”

“... that’s just bad…”

“...dare you…”

You hear the familiar sound of compressed air decompressing, and Fred whirls around with a pie tin full of whipped cream in his hand, grinning devilishly.

“No!” you whisper-scream, nearly falling off the countertop, but you’re not fast enough. Fred flops the tin into your face with a splat, and George laughs so hard he winds up on the ground kicking. You lick the cream from your lips, hungry for revenge.

You know Fred is secretly quite vain about his hair, and you waste no time sliding off the countertop and wrapping him up in a hug from behind. He suspects your ulterior motives immediately, but it’s too late for him to escape.

“Oh darling, give me a hug my sweet,” you say, making exaggerated kissy noises while burying your pie covered face in his nice clean hair. He flails about, and you tickle his ribs defensively, causing him to buckle. You fall to the ground with him, giggling and shoving at one another. Just as George joins in, trying to drag you off of his brother, kissing you all over as he tugs on your legs, you hear a floorboard creak. 

Ginny, whose room is closest to the kitchen, stands at the foot of the stairs, gaping at you. You’re sure she saw the kissing, and, well, the whole situation does look a bit… familiar. You whack George on the head and nod in Ginny’s direction.

“Oh, hello Ginny,” Fred says, disentangling himself from his situation beneath you.

“Hello, big brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” George says, surprise straining his voice.

“Hello, other brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” you say uncertainly, standing up and wiping your face off with a tea towel.

“Hello, Y/N,” she says. “Some of us are trying to sleep, you know,” she says, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Everyone speaks in hushed tones once again, having remembered that it is indeed the middle of the night. She nods curtly and scampers back upstairs, smiling cheekily.

“Did she see?” George whispers.

“Oh, she saw,” you assure him.

“But she wouldn’t say anything, right?” Fred asks.

“Surely not,” his brother replies nervously. 

“But if she does…” 

“We’re toast. No way mum believes us over her.”

“You guys are being too paranoid. Ginny isn’t a snitch like Ron and Percy, she wouldn’t blab on us for a bit of… roughhousing,” you say hopefully. The twins agree, and you help each other get cleaned up, George dabbing your face clean with a wet towel, giving you gentle kisses in between. 

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. As far as you know, Ginny doesn’t say anything about what she saw, and life in the burrow goes on as usual. In the mornings, you and Hermione read quietly in the living room over tea. She reads the paper, you look at the comics, every once in a while stopping to remark on a thought you’ve had. 

Then George wakes up. He’s quiet in the mornings, a bit slow, although not very grumpy. Then Molly gets up and usually whips up some sort of breakfast, and by the times everyone’s up you all gather round the long table and eat together. Then, if you’re lucky, you run off outside or to a neighbor's house or abscond to the attic with Fred and George, away from prying eyes and away from Molly’s commands. If you’re unlucky, Molly enlists at least one of you in some chores, usually out in the garden. 

The next time the three of you come close to getting caught, you’re doing just this- de-gnoming with Fred, George, and Ron when Ron gets a headache and goes inside, complaining that it’s far too hot. In reality, the day is rather mild, although the sun is bright enough that Fred and George both have pink sunburns radiating across the bridges of their noses. You flick Fred on his sunburnt cheek and he winces.

“Ow! What’s that for?!” he asks, nearly dropping a gnome right back into the grass. 

“I need your attention!”

“For what?”

“A kiss,” you reply devilishly. He obliges you and kisses you dramatically, dipping you low, holding you in his arms. “Like this, mi amore?” he asks in a silly accent.

“Lunchtime!” Molly calls from the doorway, causing Fred to drop you to the ground and George to leap in front of the two of you oddly, trying to obscure his mum’s line of sight. You brush yourself off and head for the house, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn’t see anything.

“Fred Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley says shrilly, and you all cringe. You hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Fred, did I just see you toss Y/n to the ground? That’s no way to treat a guest, especially when you’re meant to be doing housework!” You sigh deeply, relieved. “Come in, dearie, I swear, sometimes I don’t know who raised those two!” she says, putting an arm around you to guide you in the house.

[kirieshhhka003]

Jolyne and step sister s/o doing it👀

Pairing: Jolyne Kujo x fem! Reader

Word count: 1,7k

Warnings: incest (not really, reader is Jolyne’s step sis), fingering, cunnylingus, squirting, language

My dear step sister

It’s a lovely Saturday morning, sunlight pours down through the uncurtained window, filling your room with warmth. Summer only begins and you can hear birds chirping outside

It was surprisingly quiet at home - TV almost never shuts up and there are always some noises come from the kitchen, but today - pure silence. You then remember your mom telling that she wanted to go outdoors with her friends and that she will come home late today

Your step dad - Jotaro - is out for his work, which is not a surprise. Actually, it’s a big nonsense when he is at home, but you prefer not to think much about that. But what about your step sister? She almost never shuts up, mumbling something quietly or bragging about some bullshit on the phone with her friends. She must be somewhere out, hanging out with Hermes or that weirdo Anasui

You’re laying on your belly, lazily flipping through the pages of fashion magazine your step sister got yesterday. A full crap. All outfits look gross, and you’re doing your best not to throw this shitty magazine out of the window. You close the journal and cast it aside, closing your eyes and letting out an irritated groan

The sound of soft footsteps echoes from the wall of the corridor and the next second door of your room opens, revealing pretty face of your step sister. A mischievous leer, that stretches her full lips, doesn’t go unnoticed and you can only take a deep breath, waiting for girl to tell you what she’s planned

- Y/n~, whatcha doing? - Jolyne drawls as she nears your bad, collapsing on top of the soft mattress a few centimeters from you. You raise your eyebrows for a little, watching intently at green-haired - she definitely comes up with some dumb shit

- Jolyne, if you’re bored and wanna задолбать me - please leave. I don’t wanna spend time on pointless fights with you. Moreover, I was sure that you’ve left, - you say meekly, feeling already tired of green-haired girl

- Hey, I’m not that mean! And yes, I wanted to go to Hermes’ place, but then I found out that mom left us all alone, if you know what I mean, - Jolyne replies with a wide smile and plays with her eyebrows. You already know what she wants from you

Jolyne shifts herself closer to you so her breasts bump against your shoulder, you can feel the fresh scent of Jolyne’s coconut shampoo

- I know what we can do to entertain ourselves for a few good hours, - she whispers sweetly in your ear, rubbing her nose agains your cheekbone. Ah, here it is

You feel Jolyne’s hand trailing down your back, following along the curves of your spine, stopping on your butt and squeezing soft flesh in her palm and then rubbing it slightly. You

- Hey, no. We did it two days ago, - you grab Kujo’s hand on your ass and pull it away from your body, giving girl a severe sight, seeing how pouty her chicks become

- So what? We can do it today as well too, - Jolyne cooes next to your ear, her mint breath tickles the skin of your cheek and girl shifts even closer to you, leaving faint kiss on your temple and slowly wrapping her lips around your earlobe, starting to mildly suck on it

An exhausted sigh leaves your lungs as you turn to the side, facing Jolyne’s relaxed form. You open your mouth to say something witty but you’re harshly interrupted by Jolyne’s persistent lips right on top of yours. You try to resent for a few seconds but quickly forget about your “anger” and give in a kiss, leaning forward to bump your chest into your sister’s bust

Kujo tangles her slender pale fingers in your hair, massaging your scalp and slightly tugging your locks. Soon Jolyne has you laying on your back, placing her legs on either side of you, grinding her crotch against your abdomen and whining quietly. You look up at her slim form and notice how Jolyne’s nipples perk up against the thin fabric of her home singlet. Thick saliva fills your mouth as you think of those precious little flesh buds - Jolyne’s tits are so sensitive, you can make her cum only by sucking on her breasts

Jolyne notices the way you stare at her chest and slowly - painfully so - tugs the hem of her singlet up, revealing her tits in all beauty. She’s already turned up - you can say that by the way her nipples have swollen for a little, waiting desperately for your touches. Girl again grinds against your stomach a few times, filthy moans slip past her lips, and she cups her own tits, punching and tugging her pink nipples

You exhale sharply through your nose and place your hands on sister’s ass, squeezing her buttocks and jiggling her pliable flesh in your palms. Jolyne arches her back and leans down to you, giving you a wet sloppy kiss. Your hands run up Kujo’s abdomen, caressing her sides fervently, and you notice little goosebumps rise on her bronze skin from your touch. You stop on her breasts, cupping them over with your warm palms and mold them enthusiastically

The next moment you have Jolyne pinned beneath you. Green-haired smirks up at you and splays her legs wide open, giving you full access to her sex, her eyes glimmer with lust. It doesn’t take long for you to take off her sporty shorts and throw them away, revealing Jolyne’s slicked pussy

- You don’t even have any underwear, whore. That desperate for me? - you can’t just pass up an opportunity to mock your step sister, leering at her mischievously. She rolls her eyes back in the head and clicks tongue irritated by your words, furrowing her pretty eyebrows in a frown expression

- Shut the fuck up and do what you’re supposed to, - now it’s your turn to roll your eyes and you solidly slap Jolyne’s thigh, so that the sharp sound of the smack rocks the space of your room. Your thumb rubs tightly against her swollen hooded clit, making green-haired moan filthily and bump her hips desperately into your hand

You lean down, leaving small trail of wet kisses on Jolyne’s neck, your free hand slides lower and lower from Kujo’s chest, making its way down to her crotch. She lets out a loud wanton moan as you shove your middle finger into her slicked throbbing pussy

Kujo reclines her head on soft pillows that lay on your bed, giving you more space of her neck to kiss. Her legs seize around you, pulling your form closer to herself as you slowly add second finger in her velvety warmth. Jolyne arches her back even more, gripping on bedsheets, as you cover one of her nipples with your mouth, licking and sucking on it

- Oh shit babe, just like that, - green-haired whispers hoarsely and snaps her hips into every thrust of your hand, her plushy cunny clamping around your digits. The movements of your hand are harsh and fast, you bump into Jolyne’s pussy as deep as you can, and when you see that your sister is on the brim of cumming, you pull your fingers out, making her cry out loudly:

- You fucker! Put that back in! - she shouts almost sobbing. Oh, how mad she is. A shiteating grin plasters across your face as you scoop Jolyne’s juices from her pussy and bring your slicked digits up to your mouth, licking them off

You crouch over Jolyne’s slit, facing her wet slicked pussy, you notice a small dribble of her juices leading to perineum, and you make a wide lick, starting from that sweet little spot and moving to her overstimulated clit. Green-haired girl runs her fingers through your hair, slightly tugging on it and pulling your face closer to her core

Your nimble tongue strokes Kujo’s hooded clit, as your hands caress her hips and tummy, sometimes gripping on her tits and tugging her nipples. Jolyne’s thighs straddle your head, not letting you pull away and almost suffocating on her pussy. You suck on her labia as you force three of your fingers deep down your sister’s fluttering hole. She squeals loudly at the sudden feeling of fullness, and completely loses control over herself as you start fucking her out with your hand

Your thrusts are just feral - you bury your fingers right to the hilt inside of Jolyne’s clenching heat, then pulling them out almost to the end. And the next moment everything repeats again. The suckle of green-haired pussy makes something flutter in your tummy, tickling your insides, your underwear is now completely dump. You pull one hand away from Jolyne’s body and shove it in under your panties, rubbing tight circles at your clit while moaning into Kujo’s pussy

You curve your fingers up inside of Jolyne, making her squirm beneath you. Her grip on your hair tightens as she almost fucks your face, with every deep thrust you stroke all the right places inside of your sister’s cunny, your tongue rubs firmly against her clit. You feel green-haired starting shaking, tight walls of her pussy clench around your digits as her hips start to buck into your face

Jolyne screams out your name as orgasm crushes over green-haired, filling her body with intense pleasure, making her beating in sweet cramps. Your sister squirts a few drops on your digits, soaking your bedsheets a little. You let Jolyne ride out her orgasm, making the last few deep thrusts, before pulling away from Kujo

You place a wet smack on green-haired’s bent knee, stroking her thighs idly. She whimpers under your touch, still trembling from recent orgasm. The expression in her face is totally debauched, Jolyne looks completely fucked out. You can bet that this is exactly what Anasui imagines while jerking off

You chuckle quietly at this thought and take your t-shirt off, this useless garment joins your sister’s clothes in the floor. You lean down on Jolyne for a droopy kiss while tugging the waist of your shirts together with underwear down. Your own cunny is dripping wet, and your sister should work real good to pay you for such a powerful orgasm

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

[xswestallenfanfiction]

Hope it Wasn’t a Mistake

Smut! Missing scenes from 3x01, what happens in between four Kamikaze shots and "title of our sex tape"

Archive of Our Own

Mesmerized by her laugh, it catches Jake by surprise when he feels Amy’s hand on top of his own. She doesn’t stop there. Amy slides her hand up Jake’s forearm and squeezes his bicep. The look in her eyes is so tantalizing it makes the rest of the room blurry.

The air feels thick with thoughts left unspoken, it makes Jake feel vulnerable. He’s just about to make a joke, kill the mood, bring them back to familiar territory, when Amy leans in towards him and whispers,

“Dance with me.”

Jake’s laughing now. “There’s no music.”

“Yes there is.” Amy insists. “Listen”

She sways in her seat to the rhythm of the music playing on the overhead speakers. The volume is low, like it always is in a fancy restaurant, so the diners can talk. But, it’s playing.

“Come on!” Amy pouts. “Dance with me!”

It’s a good thing Jake’s never been afraid of embarrassing himself, because that’s what he’s about to do as he stands up and takes her hands. Most of their meal and each of their last kamikaze shots is left abandoned on the table.

Amy pulls herself closer to Jake. He takes her in, unsure if he’s ever been this close to her before, almost chest to chest. They’re both tipsy, so their movements are a little off beat. Amy still manages to set on his toes twice in the first two steps.

There isn’t a dance floor, so Jake twirls Amy under his arm in between their table and the neighboring one. Other people in the restaurant have started starting, but neither Jake or Amy notice. They’re too busy letting their hands roam.

Jake feels her let out a deep breath as his hands slide down her waist. Her fingers skim the lapel of his jacket before settling on his shoulders.

“I’ve gotten good at this.” Amy says with pride.

“Well, considering how horrible of a dancer you were, it would be more impressive if you’d found a way to get worse.” He teases.

“I could trip you.”

The smirk on her face just begging him to retaliate.

Jake takes advantage of Amy’s tipsiness and gently pushes her backwards, making her think for a second she’s going to fall. But then, his arm catches her. He’s holding her in a dip, looking down into her eyes.

Amy can’t hear the music anymore over the pound of her heart. The shining light she sees around Jake could be the chandelier or it could just be his glow. She thinks she sees him bending down to her and she closes her eyes in anticipation.

“ Excuse me, ”

The shrill voice makes Amy’s eyes snap open, Jake steadies her back to her feet.

Their waitress is tapping Jake on his shoulder, looking perturbed.

“Can you please sit down? You’re disturbing our other guests.”

“Oh sorr-”

Jake’s slurred apology is cut off by Amy.

“We’re just dancing.” She tells the waitress.

“Ma’am, this is a restaurant, not a ballroom.”

“So? Does that make dancing illegal here? What is this Footloose?”

Amy looks to Jake for support. He’s not sure what’s going on, so he just nods and hopes the situation will deescalate itself soon.

The waitress takes a deep breath before saying, “Well, if you can’t sit down at your table, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Oh, you’re not asking us to do anything. We’re leaving because we want to. Come on, Jake.”

Amy snatched her coat off the back of the chair before downing the last of her Kamikaze shots.

Jake follows suit, slamming his shot glass back onto the table. “Check please.”

They walk out of the restaurant hand in hand, a little unsteady, but with their heads held high. The rush of the cool night air is slightly sobering.

Jake starts laughing uncontrollably.

“What?” Amy asks.

“I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Well, I can’t believe how that woman killed the mood.”

That puts a glimmer in Jake’s eye. He looks at her with mischievous delight. “The mood. ”

Amy doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and looks down at her feet. She’s shifting back and forth on the spot, hips swaying just a little.

“You’re doing your chilly dance.” Jake informs her.

“I call it the warming dance.”

“Is it working?”

Amy sighs, “Not yet.”

“Here”

Jake wraps her tight in his arms and pulls her in close. He positions her hands on either side of his neck, so his bare skin can warm her.

Amy smirks.

“You could’ve just given me your jacket.”

“But then I would be cold.”

She giggles and feels her body move against him.

Their eyes are locked again. The shining light Jake sees around Amy is just her glow, not the streetlights, he’s sure of it.

“I like this better than your jacket anyway.” Amy admits.

“You do?”

“Yeah, it sets the mood. ”

They’re both smiling as they draw closer, eventually closing the gap between their lips. Jake feels Amy’s eyelash tickle his cheek and she feels his hands grip her tighter. Neither of them is cold anymore. What started as sweet grows more passionate as they deepen the kiss. Jake’s hands massage Amy’s waist and the small of her back, while one of her travels down his chest.

Jake’s breathless when he pulls his lips away.

“Uh, we should um, get a cab.”

It’s the last thing he wants to do, but they made rules and it was important to Amy. He knows the feel of her lips on his for one more second would make it too difficult to stop there.

“Okay.” At first, Amy is disappointed. But a moment later, she’s biting her lip and whispering to Jake, “Can we go to your apartment?”

They don’t talk much in the cab. Amy’s head rests on Jake’s shoulder. Their hands intertwined on top of Jake’s thigh.

When they get out in front of Jakes building, Amy feels like she’s walking on air. The rules she’d created that afternoon were completely out of her mind, which was now entirely comprised of Jake.

He had never felt more nervous in his life. With shaking hands he opened his apartment door and gestured for Amy to go in. He helped her out of her coat and moved to hang it up, but he didn’t get the chance.

The coat fell to the floor as Amy grabbed Jake and pushed him up against the wall, kissing him with the determined force of the overachiever she is. Though caught off guard, Jake quickly recovered and matched her fervor. He swelled with pride when he pulled a soft whimper from her.

Amy’s hands brushed over his shoulders to rid him of his jacket. Next, she moved on to the buttons of his shirt. While she was distracted, Jake seized the opportunity to kiss her neck.

Those pesky little buttons slipped through Amy’s hands when she shook under the sensation of Jake licking and sucking his way down to the neckline of her dress. His hands reached around and unzipped her dress. It started to fall and Amy stepped back to slip it off completely.

Jake swallowed. His eyes wide, taking her in. Amy usually felt a little self-conscious undressing in front of someone for the first time. But, standing in front of Jake, in her lacy pink bra and panties, she felt incredibly sexy. She was starting to smile, amused by how long he stood and stared, when she felt his arms around her again.

Jake lifted Amy off her feet, holding her around her back and under her knees. She instinctively put her arms around his neck. He carried her like that, bridal style, into his room and put her down on the bed.

He was starting again. Looking down at her with desire and admiration.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Amy smiled. The affection in his eyes was too powerful. He was sincere. Amy thought to herself how he hadn’t seen anything yet. She sat up and unhooked her bra.

Jake came over her. His lips joining her, his hand cradling her head as he leaned her back onto the mattress. She twisted her hands in his brown curls.

Slowly, Jake made his way down to Amy’s chest. He cupped both her breasts and ran the pad of his thumbs over her nipples. He kissed a trail from her collar bone till he could take one of her nipples in his mouth. She arched her back under him, gasping when she felt his erection press into her thigh.

Pulling him by the hair, Amy made him look up at her.

“Take your clothes off, Peralta.”

Jake started undressing, starting with his half-unbuttoned shirt. Amy couldn’t wait for him to get there, so she went for his belt herself. She pulled it from his pants loops and threw it across the room. Jake slid his hand under her panties and squeezed her ass with one hand before pulling damp lace off with the other. He pushed Amy back down on the bed and positioned his face between her legs.

As Amy spread herself open for him, Jake kissed her inner thigh. He’d never understood the comparison of vulvas to roses until now. He gently moved his finger over Amy’s petals. She was quivering at the touch, breathing too fast to beg his fingers to find where she needed him. Better yet, his tongue did. Amy moaned and bucked her hips. She closed her eyes and was taken captive by the electric sensation.

Pleasuring someone else had never felt so good for Jake. He’d do anything to keep hearing Amy make those moans, gasps, and breathy whines that almost formed a word. He tentatively swirled his finger around her entrance, groaning himself at the feel of how wet she was.

“Ah- please…” Amy cried. “Oh god, Jake…”

Without lessening his attention on her clit, Jake pressed a finger inside her. Amy writhed as he moved it in and out. She’s tight and so slick. Jake added a second finger and curled them in ‘come hither’ motion inside her.

“JAKE!” Amy screamed out.

It was like a tidal wave crashing over her. Jake feels her clit pulse against his lips. He keeps working his fingers in her, a shore to meet her every wave of bliss.

When he felt Amy relax, Jake pulled his fingers out. He admired how she’d left his fingers glistening. He licked his lips, prepared to make a show of cleaning his fingers off, but Amy pulled him up towards her. Face to face in the darkness of the room, nothing but the sound of each other’s breath in their ears, and the feel of each other’s skin on their own. Jake pressed his forehead to Amy’s. She lifted her chin to kiss him. Somehow, this felt more intimate than their previous activity.

The total satisfaction Amy felt moments ago was replaced by an even greater desire when she felt Jake’s erection once again rub against her leg. She reached down to stroke him.

“Fuckkkkk Amy.” He purred.

“Do you keep condoms in your bedside table or your wallet?”

“Uh-” It was hard to remember when she was touching him like that. “Um, both.”

Amy smiled brightly. No bigger turn on than someone who’s prepared.

Slippery fingers and low light caused him to fumble with the wrapper in his hate, but Jake finally got the condom on and turned Amy’s giggle into a moan as he moved his hand up her thigh to her hip. He held her steady and she arched towards him. Slowly, he pushed in.

Amy hummed as she felt stretched by him. It hurt just a little, which made it feel so good.

“Oh Jake, oh my god.”

“Good?” He asked, ready to retreat.

Amy nodded, “Really good.” and circled her hips.

She felt unbelievable around him. So wet and warm, and she gripped him so tight. It was better than he imagined, and he was a little ashamed of how much he’d imagined it. She curled her leg around him, pulling him closer.

Jake moaned “Holy fuck, you’re so hot.”

Amy’s content hums turned to moans she couldn’t hold back as she moved with his ever quickening rhythm.

“Jake…. Jake–oh fuck-ahh…”

“Oh Ames, cum for me.” He breathed into her neck.

She pulled his hair and clenched around him, crying out his name. It sent Jake over the edge, he released into his own free fall, holding her for dear life.

They both laid still, looking up at the ceiling above them. With sex, everything had felt natural and fluid. Now, they each felt stiff and unsure how to return to normal interaction. Jake decided to try.

“So…. we broke a rule.”

[euovennia]

Mate

Summary: In which Carlisle finds his mate with the subtle guidance of Alice.

Pairing: fem!reader x Carlisle Cullen

Word Count: 1,860

"Slow down, Alice! There's no need to be this excited, it's just skating." Rosalie remarked with a bored expression as she and the rest of the Cullen family struggled to keep up with the tiny woman.

"Maybe it is just skating, but we haven't had a family outing like this in forever, Rose! Trust me when I say this is good for us, it'll be unforgettable." Alice spoke, a mix of mischief and excitement glimmering in her golden eyes. Jasper came towering beside her and wrapped an arm around her small frame, "Just what are you planning, darlin'?" Alice only smiled before quickly escaping his grasp and continuing bouncing her way toward the entrance of the skating rink as the small group attempted to rid themselves of the uncomfortable nagging feeling in the back of their minds.

Something was going to happen, but no one knew what.

With the door held open by Alice, the family quickly filed into the building before being dragged over to the check-out counter where an older man stood hunched over the counter as he kept his eyes trained on a small TV in the corner of the counter. His calm exterior fumbled momentarily as the sound of the entrance door slamming shut behind the rather large group snapped him out of his focus. He quickly straightened himself out as he painted a warm smile onto his face, "Well hello there folks, what can I do for you?"

At this, Alice quickly pushed a surprised Carlisle to the front of the group. Feeling awkward, he quickly clasped his hands in front of him as he looked directly at the man who was patiently awaiting a response, "Hello. My family and I were interested in doing some skating. Perhaps for an hour or two."

The man turned to look down at his wristwatch before changing his attention to Carlisle once again, "Of course, but I have to say that there's gonna be about a ten-minute wait. I can get you all situated with your skates and take you down to the observation room while you wait. If that's alright, of course."

Carlisle glanced back at his family and upon receiving one enthusiastic reply from Alice and a shrug from Edward before he turned to the man, "Yes, that'll work out fine."

With their skates in hand, the Cullen clan followed the man down a long, brightly lit hallway before reaching a set of worn-in blue metal doors. The doors let out a loud creak as they were pushed open by the man. As the group filed inside the cold room, they were met with an intensely fast-paced tune composed of numerous cellos. They glanced at one another, the uncomfortable feeling slowly beginning to blossom in their bodies further with the exception of Alice who stood there with a large, expectant grin on her pale face. Realization dawned on Rosalie as she caught sight of her sister's face and she harshly grabbed her wrist as she spoke in a low tone, "What the hell are we doing here, Alice?" Ignoring her harsh, venom-filled tone Alice only shrugged. Huffing, Rosalie returned to Emmett's side as she crossed her arms. Sensing the tension that was growing between his adoptive children, Carlisle turned to the old man who was looking out a window that was faced outward toward the skating rink. "Is there a specific reason for the music?"

The man looked back at Carlisle and wordlessly motioned him to stand by his side. Carlisle furrowed his brows together in slight confusion but walked over by the man as requested. Eyes focused on the glass window in front of him, Carlisle watched as a woman feverishly skated around the rink with a heightened sense of grace and elegance that could rival that of his own family. He found himself enthralled with the precise and quick movements coming from the mysterious woman and found himself letting out an unnecessary breath as he asked, "Who is that?"

The old man kept his eyes trained on the woman's skating figure as he answered, "I don't know much about her if I'm being honest. All I know is that she's a pro skater and that her coach is pretty strict." Carlisle reluctantly tore his gaze away from the woman and glued them to the man beside him, "Coach?" The man nodded as he turned to face Carlisle fully, "Yeah. That guy over there." He spoke as he lamely motioned to the left side of the rather large rink. Carlisle's gaze settled on a well-built man with medium brown hair that was immaculately styled with calculating and judgmental eyes that seemed to rake over every movement of the female skater.

As Carlisle's gaze went to settle on the woman once again, he was pulled from his thoughts as his adoptive children had grown an apparent interest in Carlisle's overly observant attitude. "What're you looking at, pops?" Emmett spoke loudly causing Carlisle to cringe at both the nickname and volume of his voice. "Nothing, Emmett. Just looking around the rink is all." Rosalie scoffed, "Seems to me like you were checking out something special," Her gaze quickly turned to the woman who was effortlessly gliding across the ice, "Or someone." It was at this moment where Carlisle knew that if he was still capable of blushing, his face would be on fire. "She seems to be very talented, it's eye-catching." Esme gently defended. "Well, the music is a bit obnoxious." Rosalie muttered. "A flair for the dramatics never hurt anyone." Edward mused. "Oh please, all you know how to do is be dramatic." Rosalie fired back, her annoyance growing with each passing second.

Carlisle watched the scene unfold in front of him with weariness in his eyes as he gave a small nod toward Jasper who then unleashed a subtle calming effect on everyone present. Unable to fight back the sudden wave of calmness she felt, Rosalie let out a deep breath before walking away with Emmett trailing behind her, ready to calm her down further if needed. Relaxing his posture slightly, he turned to face the old man. "I apologize. My family, unfortunately, do not see eye to eye on everything." The man simply waved off his apology. "I used to be a family man myself. No worries. Anyhow, I best be getting back to the front desk. As soon as those two get out, feel free to hop on in." He said before giving the family a departing wave and walking away.

Carlisle watched him disappear behind the rusty blue doors before directing his attention back to the now-empty ice rink. He felt his undead heart fall to the pit of his stomach as one question raced through his mind: Where did she go?

His question was quickly answered as the doors leading to the rink opened and the man and woman walked in speaking in what Carlisle could make out to be French-based on his rather limited knowledge. He watched with great interest as the man and woman went back and forth with their conversation.

"Vous vous déplacez trop lentement dans certains domaines. Vous devez l'accélérer." (tr: You move too slow in some areas. You need to speed it up.) The man spoke, his tone a bit rough and body language that gave off the impression that he was annoyed. The woman seemed a bit exasperated as she responded, "Je sais que oui, mais je me sens épuisé. Donnez-moi juste un jour de repos, c'est tout ce dont j'ai besoin. Je serai mieux après, je te le promets!" (tr: I know I do, but I feel exhausted. Just give me one rest day, that's all I need. I'll be better after, I promise!) Once finished speaking, the man turned to her and shoved a finger in her face as he spoke quickly and sternly, an annoyed expression present on his face. "Non. Vous ne vous améliorez qu'avec une pratique constante. Pas de jours de repos pour vous. Arrête de demander." (tr: No. You only get better with consistent practice. No rest days for you. Stop asking.) The woman seemed disheartened by his attitude as she crossed her arms and simply nodded. The man let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, "Pardon. Juste ... Habillez-vous. Nous devons partir." (tr: Sorry. Just...Get dressed. We need to leave.) The man tore his gaze from the woman in front of him and was surprised to see a large group of pale people awkwardly trying to pretend as though they weren't just eavesdropping. A light pink color dusted his cheeks as he pulled his jacket closer to his frame. "My apologies. Just a small disagreement. Have fun on the ice." He said, an awkward smile on his face as he walked out of the cold room.

With the door slamming shut behind him, the woman looked up at the family, her eyes quickly moving over the appearance of all of them, her gaze lingering on a certain blonde doctor for a second longer before speaking, "Sorry to take up all the ice. It's just that people normally don't come here." At the sound of her soft voice, Carlisle looked away from the door where the man had once gone through and fixed his eyes on the beauty in front of him.

She had dark brown hair that was thrown up to an elegantly messy bun with two fallen wisps of hair that worked to frame her face perfectly. Her eyes were a few shades lighter than her hair whereas her perfectly arched eyebrows matched her hair color perfectly. He found himself admiring her long eyelashes that beautifully fluttered with every blink and her long, slim nose that sat perfectly on her face. He admired the light pink color that stained her lips and cheeks, a glorious reminder for Carlisle of the humanity that remained within the woman before him.

"Dad!"

Carlisle looked over at Alice who had a knowing grin on her face as she motioned with her head toward the woman. He looked back at her, "I just wanted to know if you were alright. You seemed a little...Out of it."

At the sound of her melodic voice, Carlisle gave her a warm smile. "Yes. I do that sometimes. Sorry to concern you." The woman returned his smile as she spoke, "It's fine. We all have our moments." Carlisle nodded as his smile stayed painted on his face. After a few moments, the woman spoke again, "It was nice seeing you all, but I must get going. Have fun." Carlisle's face fell at her admission and he nearly reached out to stop her but restrained himself from doing so. "Of course. Have a wonderful day." With a final smile, she gave the group a nod of acknowledgment before taking her leave.

"What was that?" Jasper spoke once the doors shut behind the woman. Carlisle could feel his undead heart clench as he uttered the next two words,

"My mate."

[smoochkooks]

—chapter four: white lies

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.5k

summary: it came easy to you to lie. but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.

previous || next

one year and 6 months ago

April was exceptionally moody that year.  

Every day you woke up to either heavy rainfall or a beautiful, cloudless sky. Alternatively, it could also snow for a couple of hours just to have it all vanish once the sun reappeared. As much as you loved Spring, you hated the capricious weather with passion.  

It was a normal, peaceful, Saturday afternoon. Saturday meant no classes to attend, no work to do on the side. It was just you in your small, cozy apartment, tucked underneath the blanket and binge-watching Attack On Titan.  

You were never an anime enthusiast per se, but you happened to befriend a doe-eyed weeb all those years ago. Your current occupation was just a part of the aftermath. It wasn’t like Jungkook was obsessed, not at all. He was actually far from it. Now, at the tender age of twenty-three, his old hobby was like a relapse. His love for anime was coming in waves every once in a while, gradually transforming into a two-months-long hyperfixation and then, it was nothing. And the cicle continued.

He was currently in the stage of re-watching Attack On Titan, hence why you had been forced to finally give the damned anime a try as well. Hell, he was even coming over tonight to have a marathon with you.

(He’d said that season three, his favourite, you had to watch alongside him.)

You: eren's annoying little shit  

Jungkook: told you so

You: but levi? damn I’d sell my soul for him  

Jungkook: for a 5’2 emotionally unavailable man?  

You: yep. that’s my type

It was far from truth. As much as you liked Captain Levi, he wasn’t Jungkook. You are my type, you wanted to write instead. There hadn’t been a man in my life who managed to even come close to you. But, as always, you kept those confessions to yourself.  

Right when you were about to play another episode, your phone buzzed again.  

Jungkook: I have a weird question  

You: I’m used to that  

You: shoot your shot.  

Jungkook: what’s your finger size?  

Confused, you read his last message once again. That was indeed a weird fucking question to ask, you thought. You had never really been a fan of rings. You only owed one - a gift from your grandmother she gave you for your sixteenth birthday. Rummaging thorough your drawer, you found it in a separate, black case.  

It still fit just right, so you took a ruler, measured the size and googled the results.  

You: it’s 7.5 I guess

You: why do you ask tho?  

Jungkook: I need you to go somewhere with me before our marathon if that’s okay

You: you didn’t answer my question  

You: but okay. what time?

Jungkook: ill pick you up at 5pm  

Jungkook: you’ll see  

Maybe it was for the better he hadn’t told you where he was taking you. If you had know, you would have backed away last minute. Come up with so lame excuse, blame it all on a headache or period cramps.

If you had known Jungkook was taking you to pick up an engagement ring for Soojin, you would have never come with him.  

When you parked in front of one of the most high-ranking jewellery stores dowtown, the solemnity of the situation hit you like a whiplash. You took a deep, shuddering breath. Jungkook was thinking about marrying Soojin. Jungkook was going to propose to her, soon. He was ready to spent the rest of his life with her. 

Jeon Jungkook, the love of your life, was about to slip out of your reach for good. 

You couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. You clenched your fists so tight the knuckles turned white.  

“I figured out you could help me,” Jungkook said, breaking the silence and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I checked Soojin's finger size once when she was showering and then I found out that your’s the same and well, you’re a girl so you obviously know more about jewellery than me and–”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off with a dry chuckle. You didn’t want him to speak. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted to jumped off his car and ran away from that place as far as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.”  

You smiled at him with reassurance. It was actually hilarious, how you mastered the art of feigning your real feelings when you were with him. It came easy to you to lie but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.  

“I’m here, so you don’t have to worry about chosing something horrible.”  

He grinned and you noticed a dust of pink covering the apples his cheeks. It was hard, so fucking hard seeing him happy because that was all you ever wanted and yet it pained you not to be the main source of it. Jungkook was twenty-three and already so in love he wanted to get married. You were going to see him in a black tux, a prince charming waiting in front of the altar for his princess.  

It ached. Why did it ache to see him happy?

The lady who worked at the jewellery store greeted you politely with a bow. “What can I do for you?” she asked.  

“We are looking for engagement rings.” Jungkook answered.

You could tell she was a bit astounded but her professional smile never faltered when she responded with, “Oh, that’s still quite unusual to see the couple chosing an engagement ring together.”  

You were about to protest but then, Jungkook did something you would never expect him to do.  

He grasped your hand.

(It was warm. His touch was soothing. Comforting. Then why did it hurt so bad?)  

“My girlfriend wants to chose the ring herself but she doesn’t know when she will get it.”  

To make matters worse, he sent you a wink. The store’s clerk cooed at the scene and clasped a hand over her chest. For her it was yet another day at work, yet another pair of adults who had decided to get marry.  

“You make a really beautiful couple.” she said. 

Even Jungkook’s hand squeezing yours couldn’t ease the sting you felt hearing her speak those words to you. You smiled lightly for good measure. She then pointed at the display and gave you some time and space too look at the options.

Your whole face felt hot. Jungkook was still holding your hand, still playing the role of a perfect boyfriend. He didn’t seem to notice what kind of effect it had on you. He didn’t know how fast your heart was beating, how warm his touch felt on your skin. It was all just a silly joke to him.

He leaned closer to you, so the store's clerk couldn’t hear him. His breath tickled your skin. “You’re blushing.” he whispered.  

“Shut up.”  

He chuckled and let go of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”  

(No matter how much it hurt you on the inside, you already missed his touch.)

“It’s okay. Let’s chose my damned ring, shall we?” you proposed, mustering a nonchalant tone.  

Dodging uneasiness with humor always worked out, it seemed.

You felt odd and out of place standing next to him and staring at all those glimmering jewels. In the corner of the eye you saw the lady who worked there glancing at you from time to time and that was when you remembered you were supposed to act like a soon-to-be fiancée. 

“They’re all pretty.” you said to Jungkook. 

“Which one you like the most then?”  

You didn’t have to think long about the answer. The ring with an emerald stone caught your eye from the beginning. It was different than the others, definitely not a standard choice for engagement but something about its peculiarity made you want it to have it shinning on your finger one day.  

Except, you weren’t here for yourself. Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend. You were helping him chose a ring for Soojin. And you knew exactly what she would like.  

So you pointed at the number thirty-two. A sparkling, white-gold ring with an oval-shaped diamond.  

Jungkook let out a hum. “It’s really pretty, yeah. Excuse me,” he called. “My girlfriend would like to try out this one.”  

You ignored the phantom pain you felt as you put the ring on. You flexed your fingers and just for a moment, you pretended it wasn’t a farce your best friend came up with. The diamond shone brightly just like the glimmers of happiness in Jungkook's eyes. He didn’t have to worry about Soojin's answer. He knew it would be thousand times yes.

You were good at pretending. After all, you had been practicing the art of it almost your entire life.  

So you drove with Jungkook to your apartment and listened to him babbling about his newest project at work. You made snacks, sat in front of your TV and spent the next couple of hours watching Attack On Titan. You cursed him for spoiling you a few bits of the show and Jungkook, like the petty Virgo he was, reminded you how you accidentally revealed him Little Women's ending because you had read the book years before.

As you laughed and bickered with him, you still remembered about the crimson box tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, but you didn’t allow yourself to break. Not yet.  

It was only when Jungkook fell asleep around 1am that you stepped into the shower and let the tears flow.  

And a week later, when the dreaded became real–

Jungkook: she said yes!!!

A white lie was told to avoid hurting someone’s feelings.

You: I’m so happy for you, Jungkook!  

After all, the best you could do was give up your happiness for the sake of his own.