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turdblossommm · 5 years

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Marry Me {3}

Summary: Bucky and the reader are hopelessly in love with their best friends who are getting married, where the pair first meet. Will there friendship turn into something more or will it crash and burn?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/N: I think this is the most consistent I’ve ever been with posting. If you want to be tagged send me an ask!

part 2 / masterlist

You woke up to soft snores in your ear, your eyes widened in panic before the memories of last night came rushing back. You glanced over you shoulder and found the handsome man with a broken heart like yours. You wiggled out of his grip and walked into the kitchen and started the kettle for coffee.

You rustled through boxes labeled kitchen for the french press, you preferred your coffee this way. You found the toaster and set them up in the kitchen, you popped the bread down while you brewed the coffee. You continued to unpack while waiting for your breakfast.

Bucky groaned as he woke up in an unfamiliar room, it was clean and emptier except for the bed her was sleeping. He rubbed his eyes and smiled as he remembered the events of last night. The wedding seems like it was ages ago, last night complete masked the what was supposed to be a crushing aftermath.

“Fuck!” Bucky perked up and pulled on his boxers and found you in the kitchen with a towel wrapped around you hand. He took a second to admire you in the silky bath robe and then he saw the towel starting to turn red and you scrambling through boxes

“Doll, what happened?” Doll? Where did that come from? Bucky thought

“I was unpacking while waiting for my toast and then I grabbed the knives without realizing they were knives”

“Let me see it” You placed you hand in his and watched as he unwrapped the towel revealing the three large gashes across your four fingers

“I can’t find my first aid kit” You explained

“Why don’t we go to the hospital” You nodded

“Yeah probably” You giggled and he smiled. You quickly changed and grabbed some of Braxton’s clothes “These are my brother’s, your about his size” Bucky pulled on the jeans and hoodie. You handed him your keys and pointed to your car

“This is your car?” Bucky looked at you

“My boss is very generous with his hourly wage” You shrugged as you got in the passenger seat of your Aston Martin. Bucky smiled as he got in the drivers seat and you looked over at him, about to ruin his kid in a candy store moment

“This is so cool” He looked over to

“We need to get there fast okay” He nodded enthusiastically “But please don’t get a ticket” It’s literally a five minute drive to the hospital and even in New York traffic Bucky got there in three and you doubt it’s because your bleeding in the passenger seat.

He dropped you off at the ER entrance and you walked in and got checked in. You were explaining what had happened to the nurse when Bucky walked in. The nurse followed your gaze and quickly turned back to you

“Do I need to call the police” Your eyes widened

“What? No” She raised an eyebrow “Oh my god no, I don’t even know his last name” She nodded and sat down next to you

“How’s it going?” He smiled

“You know you don’t have to stay” You told him as the nurse numbed your hand

“I know” He grabbed your good hand and you smiled and gripped his hand as she started stitching and you weren’t numb yet.

7 stitches later and you were on your way home, high on pain meds. Bucky led you up the stairs, laughing at your antics. He set you on the couch as his phone started to ring, Steve’s named popped up and he answered

“Hey buddy”

“Hey Steve” Bucky looked at his shoes

“Who’s Steve?” You looked up from the couch “Are you cheating on me?”

“Who’s that?” Steve asked as Bucky shushed you

“No one”

“No one? That’s not what you said last night” You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms in your high state, if he wasn’t so panicked Bucky would play along. But Steve goes all dad mode sometimes and he didn’t want to have that argument right now

“Buck are you still with that girl?”

“Yes Steve” You started to walk down that hallway and Bucky has no idea what you can get into “Steve I got to go” Bucky ended the call and followed you down the hallway to find you passed out on the bed. He propped your hadn’t up and walked back out the living room.

He could leave, but he wouldn’t want you to wake up and not knowing what happened or something. He grabbed your keys just in case and called a cab back to his place and Brooklyn. He showered and changed quickly before heading back to your place. In the cab he called Steve back

“Hey Buck”

“Hey Steve, sorry about earlier. But what did you need?”

“I just wanted to check on you, see how you were doing”

“I’m fine”

“Bucky the girl you’ve been in love with your entire life just married another guy and you fine?”

“Yes Steve, I’m fine. I have to get over her at some point”

“That doesn’t mean you sleep around” Steve argued

“It was one girl, and we didn’t just sleep together, I mean we were hanging out”

“Bucky I don’t think this his healthy” Bucky groaned

“Wanda I’m fine, really. We just talked and had sex no big deal” You shrugged and you tried to make a sandwich one handed

“Clint just married someone and you’ve been drooling over him like a school girl since you were a teenager”

“Wanda stop” You groaned

“I’m not going to watch you spiral again”

“That’s not fair Wanda, this is different. Frank died and Clint was a rebound to that”

“Frank died 7 years ago Y/N, it doesn’t matter who was a rebound but what you’re doing isn’t healthy” You looked up to avoid tears

“I loved Frank no matter what I felt for Clint before or after, I was dating Frank before even met Clint”

“Don’t make me the bad guy Y/N, I’m trying to help”

“Then stop being a psychologist and be my friend Wanda” You heard the door unlock and Bucky walked in “I gotta go Wanda”

“Don’t hang up on-“ You end the call and tossed the phone on the couch

“Wondered where those went, thought you stole my car” You chuckled as he tossed the keys and you caught them with your good hand

“I just didn’t want you to drive if you were still feeling happy”

“You can say high Bucky, I was high on pain meds that were prescribed to me. I’m not a junkie” You joked

“I can go if you want-“

“No, I actually had a proposition for you, if you’d want to see me again” He nodded and you motioned for the couch. You faced him and sat cross legged

“Go for it”

“Okay I don’t know about you but last night was very nice, and it was nice to not be alone cause that’s when I start thinking and thats when everything hurts. I want to make an agreement with you” He nodded for you to continue “I purpose that we continue to sleep together, no strings attached, friends with benefits, what ever you want to call it” Bucky sat back

“Last was fantastic by the way but why?” He asked

“To get over them, we mutually use each other” Bucky thought this over “And you’re kinda fun to be around” He smiled, Steve would defiantly disapprove of this, but Bucky isn’t getting any younger and he can’t wait around for divorce

“Okay”

“Okay?” You smiled

“Yeah let’s do it” He smiled

“Let’s make some ground rules first” He nodded “One, this is monogamous. I don’t want you putting you dick somewhere unknown and then in me” Bucky felt his dick twitch as you spoke about it

“Second, we don’t tell friends about us sleeping together, were just friends” You nodded

“Especially Clint and Natasha, but they’re gone for three weeks. Third, when one of us finds someone or wants to call this quits the other respects that” He nodded and watched you type it up on an iPad.

“So now what? Do we swear on the bible?” You got up and looked through your book boxes and pulled out the book

“I only have the Tanakh” He raised an eyebrow “It’s for Jews, educate yourself” You place your hand on top of the book and he followed suit

“I swear to uphold the rules of..” Bucky paused “Of mutual fucking”

“I am not saying that over my holy text” You rolled your eyes “I swear, that’s it”

“When do we start?” You tossed the book over your shoulder

“Right now” You crashed your lips on his and he carried you to the bed room

TAGLIST: @hailqueenconquer @2ptonpt

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes au #sad bucky #bucky imagine #BUCKY AU #bucky x reader #bucky x you #Winter Solider #winter solider imagine #winter solider x reader #winter solider fanfiction #clint barton #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #Steve Rogers #marvel #Avengers #avengers au

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lizwontcry · 6 years

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Hi. I just wanted to share something I started writing this summer and then ran out of steam to finish. I watched 13 seasons of Greys twice in a row; for about 4 or 5 months it was literally the only thing I watched. I enjoyed the usual shippyness--Cristina and Owen, Meredith and Derek, etc., but the OTP I walked away with was Alex and Meredith. So here is a thing I wrote. It has a beginning and an end but not exactly a middle. Rock on.

Somewhere between the newly instituted Waffle Sundays and living together and working together and barely breathing in the same air without each other, things change. It is, after all, practically inevitable.

The change doesn’t happen all at once, or even in an obvious way. It's just, every now and then, Meredith will look up from helping Ellis cut her waffle into little pieces and Alex is braiding Zola's hair and telling her a story about the little boy who refused to let go of the Storm Trooper action figure Alex gave him while he recovered from his appendix surgery. Zola is laughing and looking at Alex adoringly, probably the same way Meredith is gazing at him if she were to see herself in the mirror at that moment.

As for Alex, he also tried to deny it for a long time. But there comes a time in everyone’s life when they must admit that their feelings are not just about the friendship they've carefully constructed over the years. There was one night in particular where Meredith came home completely exhausted but supremely satisfied. She had completed a long, difficult procedure that was not expected to go well, but as usual, she rocked it. Meredith had this look in her eyes like she could do anything, and Alex realized he kind of loved that about her. Her confidence; her readiness to take on the world. He digs it.

Most of the time they stick to their own respective bedrooms, but when they do fall asleep together, Alex is mostly amused by her snoring--he can't help it; she's adorable. And sometimes, Meredith wakes up and studies Alex's profile, and she can't shake the thought that there's an attractive--okay, hot--man in her bed. Or that she's in a hot man's bed. She tries to ignore the always-gnawing guilt—Derek’s gone. She’s not cheating on him. Plus, he’d want her to be with someone who always had her back—right? He liked Alex well enough. Her rationalizations got out of hand from time to time.

Of course, the sun rises and they wake up way too early for most normal humans and take on the day and the night has been forgotten. But every now and then, it's not forgotten. And they both remember.

_____________

Meredith is knitting. She's not knitting well, or even paying particularly close attention to what she's doing, but she's knitting. She tries to recall what Izzie taught her about it back when they did stuff like that together. Why is she knitting? That's actually a good question.

The front door opens, and a spectacularly tired Alex drags himself inside the house. He nods at Meredith, and puts his bag and keys on the kitchen table, although Meredith always tells him how she'd rather he place his belongings anywhere other than that location.

"What's with you? You look like you're about to pass out."

Alex falls down on the couch next to Meredith. "Long day. Totally routine inguinal hernia repair, with too many complications. Almost lost a 7-year-old girl. But she pulled through."

Meredith nods, and Alex snorts. "What are you, 80? It's a Friday night and you're knitting, Mer. What the hell?"

"Yes, I am knitting. Maggie took the kids to play miniature golf, and Amelia was supposed to come over to watch Rosemary's Baby with me, but Owen's mom is having a little dinner party for Megan, so... that's where everyone is. And I am here. Knitting."

Alex not-so-gently takes all the knitting out of Meredith's hands and throws it on the coffee table.

"Hey! I was... doing that."

"Well, now you're not. You're feeling bummed about Riggs and I get that. But now it's time to stop being an old lady and go outside.”

Meredith sighs. "I'm not that bummed, Alex. You know I’m not. He's a good guy. It would have been interesting. But the long lost love of his life is back, so good for him. It's better this way, really. I'm fine on my own. I'm a mother! I have three children. They are my priority."

"Okay, but have you considered that everything you just said is a pile of crap?"

Meredith punches Alex's arm. He feigns pain.

"It is, though," he continue. "You're a great mom, everyone knows that. But there is no substitute for companionship. For love. For sex.”

"Are you seriously lecturing me on companionship? On love? Look at you. Jo—

Alex interrupts. "Jo and DeLuca are ducking into empty hallways when they think we aren't looking and making dumb faces at each other even when they think we are. She's moved on. Whatever."

"Have you?"

"I guess. I don't want her back anymore, at least--I get that I really messed this relationship up. The rest of the chicks, yeah, I played a part but they were all nuts. This time, I went nuts."

"Well... at least you haven't peed on my couch yet."

Alex shakes his head. Meredith is never going to let that one go.

"Anyway. Get up. Go change. We're going out."

"Where? And why do I have to change? I'm perfectly fine with my knitting, thank you."

"Screw the knitting. Wear something hot; we're going to get you laid tonight."

Meredith opens her mouth to protest, but Alex has that look on his face. The one where Meredith already understands that she can argue about this with him for as long as she wants, but his stubborn ass is not going to give in. So she sighs again and begrudgingly gets off the comfortable couch.

10 minutes later, she comes out in a dress she hasn't worn in years and does a little spin for Alex. He whistles appreciatively, and she curtsies, laughing. Alex has changed into some nicer jeans and a button down shirt. Even though he looked like he was going to pass out on the kitchen floor when he first came home, he now looks reinvigorated.

"Where should we go? Joe's?"

Meredith hopes Alex is kidding. "You want me to find someone to have sex with at the bar where I met my dead husband for the first time?"

Alex frowns. "Bad idea, huh?"

"Come on, we look hot, let's go somewhere nice. Like adults. I'll even let you pay for dinner."

“Oh, how generous,” Alex says, pretending to be annoyed.

In the car, Meredith throws a bag of Cheerios, an iPad, and a coloring book into the back seat so Alex can sit in the front. They happily chat about the hospital, the weather, the kids--carefully avoiding the subject of Riggs and Jo and anything and anyone that has to do with Riggs and Jo.

They decide to go to the Metropolitan Grill. Neither of them eat a lot of red meat, but they’re both craving steak. Once seated, Alex orders a beer and Meredith gets herself a glass of Chardonnay.

“Wine tonight?” Alex asks as Meredith takes a sip.

“Yeah. I can be classy, you know.”

Alex chuckles. “Yeah, you can. But I’ve also seen you gulp a beer faster than any man I know, including myself.”

Meredith nods in agreement. “I can drink a beer with the rest of ‘em, for sure. But I prefer to get drunk on a classier substance these days.”

“It looks good on you,” Alex says. “But I gotta say, it’s pretty hot to see you destroy a dozen beers in a row.”

Meredith feels herself blushing. Why? Alex has admitted similar things dozens of times. She knows he thinks she’s attractive. So what? He’s good looking, too. That’s an obvious fact of their relationship. So why does her face feel like it’s burning? Must be the wine.

They order a ton of food and spend the balmy, rainy evening laughing, drinking, and eating. The whole reason why they went out--to get Meredith laid--seems to be forgotten, as Alex doesn’t leave her side the entire night. After a luxurious and decadent dessert of chocolate mousse, they argued over the bill (eventually Alex gave in and let Meredith pay it), and Alex led her out with his hand on the small of her back. As soon as his hand made contact, Meredith had to fight back a small gasp. It wasn’t that Derek used to do that--he preferred to hold her hand instead--but it was just so… intimate. Like they had already been married for 10 years or something. It was bizarre. It was nice. It was confusing.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Alex says. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”

“Me, either, actually,” Meredith says. “Where should we go?”

They debated going to a late movie, to act like tourists at the Space Needle, to go for a long drive, but eventually settled on a small, dimly lit bookstore that Meredith’s mom used to take her to as a kid.

“I can’t believe this place is still here,” Meredith says when they arrive. She’s looking through the medical books, most of which were probably the same ones her mother sorted through decades ago.

(This is where I unfortunately ran out of steam for the middle...just imagine them looking at books together and feeling like they know each other better than anyone else knows them)

When they finally get home, they have to be quiet since Maggie and the kids are asleep. They crash on the living room couch, which is where the whole night started. Meredith looks at her abandoned knitting on the table. This night is ending way different than how it started. Funny how that happens sometimes.

“Want a beer?” Meredith whispers.

“Nah, I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” Alex whispers back, and there’s really nothing left to say now. They are sitting way too close to each other. Meredith puts her head on his shoulder, and he sighs in a way that makes Meredith realize something needs to happen, and probably soon. But what about… well, what about everything?

Meredith decides that she will be the one to address this. For once in her life, she will put it out there. No more secrets. Plus, she’s still feeling confident; she feels sexy in her nice dress and can still feel the warmth from the wine she drank earlier.

“You’re my person,” she blurts out. Alex looks at her… not strangely, because he knows exactly what she’s saying, but with a curious intrigue.

“Cristina’s your person,” Alex says softly.

“Yes, she is, but you’re my person. Not the person who lives in another country that I get to talk to for a few hours a week. The person who lives in my house, who helps with my children, who I work side by side with on a daily basis. You’re my person, Alex!”

Alex nods. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be more than your person. You’re not imagining this, Mer. I feel it, too. And we can ignore it forever, but eventually it’s going to catch up with us. Hell, it has caught up with us. It’s here.”

They are really talking about this. All these years, everything that’s happened, disappearing wives with cancer, dead husbands who end up at crappy hospitals, the highs and lows of life. They’ve been through it all. Maybe they can do this?

“But we know what’s going to happen already! We’ll get closer, it’ll be great, and then one of us will get freaked out by something and it’ll trigger our dark places. You’ll back off and move out and maybe get another job with Dr. Butthole just so you don’t have to be near me. Or I’ll start thinking about husband ghosts and how I need someone the kids can depend on and I’ll become cold and distant until we inevitably have some kind of disastrous break up where we never speak to each other again. And Alex, I can’t afford that. I can’t afford you not being in my life. I can’t--”

“Don’t be dumb, Mer. I’ll never work for Dr. Butthole again, that you can depend on.”

Meredith chuckles and hits him. Alex grabs her hand, and the warmth and comfort of it calms her down a little.

“You’re right. Those things can and may happen. But we’re older now. Our friendship can withstand this. Maybe… maybe we owe it to ourselves to try.”

Meredith looks into Alex’s earnest eyes and knows he’s right. She never thought about ending up with Alex, out of all people, but maybe this is what their terrible romantic disasters have been leading to. Maybe they had to go through all of that to come to this moment. Of course, Meredith has to think to herself, if Derek was still alive, she would be with him forever. But he’s not, and Alex is one of the brightest lights in her sometimes dim existence. He loves her kids, and they love him. They have all these shared experiences that have brought them as close as two human beings can be, practically. Maybe it is time.

Alex leans over while Meredith is deep into this existential crisis and gives her a small kiss. It’s an introductory kiss and it’s not everything Meredith has ever dreamed of or whatever, but it’s good. So good it makes the butterflies in her stomach start flying through the rest of her body.

It’s definitely time to try.

Alex pulls away and looks intently at her. Meredith lets every single emotion she’s feeling sink into her brain, and then leans in to kiss him again. This time it’s the kind of kiss they make movies about; the kind of kiss poets and writers have been describing in literature for thousands of years. It’s good, so good. And it’s even better with Alex’s hands in her hair and her hands pulling at his shirt and both of them needing each other in a way they’ve never been able to comprehend.

“Hey… if we don’t stop, things are going to get way too pornographic in here,” Meredith says when they manage to pull away.

“Well, I can’t say that would be disappointing,” Alex says, and she laughs.

“It wouldn’t be. But…”

“Kids are here. I get it. To be continued,” he says, and kisses her again, and it’s so good it almost knocks the wind out of her.

“I’m going to bed,” Meredith says when she catches her breath.

“Is that an invitation?” Alex says, but not in the frat brother way he used to talk to her, but in a respectful, almost hopeful kind of way.

“Yes… actually it is,” Meredith says, and he grins as they both get up and walk the short distance to the bedroom, where they fall in bed together fully clothed, wrapped around each other, wanting so much more but knowing and appreciating the tantalizing feeling of waiting until they can take it further, explore, and unlock the secrets that have been kept in their hearts for so long.

This is the easy part; the kissing and the honesty and the excitement of something new. What comes after will be the challenge. But for now, they are ready. They are at least ready to try.

#merlex #grey's anatomy #alex karev #meredith grey #idk #I didn't know what else to do with it but I wanted it out in the world #fandom #fanfic

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superkaralovesfanfiction · 7 years

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Uzrhegehd: Lust

UZRHEGEHD- LUST FOR SUPERCATSLAM 7 Basically sex sex sex. That's all this is. I chose lust as my fave sin out of the seven, naturally...🤦🏼‍♀️ ''Kara, this cannot happen again, you do realize that.'' Cat remembered that sentence, saying it with such vehemence, yet breathy and broken, as Supergirl stood pinned between Cat's strong hands and the elevator wall behind her, and remembered seeing Supergirl's wide blue eyes, seeing her nod in understanding, seemingly realizing the importance of that acceptance, and then walk away when Cat released her as soon as the main elevator opened on the bottom floor. Cat remembered the pain in her heart. Because she had initiated that kiss. And all that touching and even the smouldering orgasm from the heroine's plaint, wanting body a mere single moment later when the girl had haphazardly stopped the elevator in between floors after the kiss hadn't stopped, and damn, Cat hadn't been able to stop herself. And Supergirl had been... Cat bit her lip at the memory, Kara coming apart in her arms, moaning as her body bucked underneath Cat's eager fingertips. Cat had grinned then, kissing her just underneath the edge of her cape, because nobody could resist Supergirl in that suit, and Cat was no exception. And because Kara Sunny Danvers having an orgasm was possibly the prettiest sight in the world. Okay, maybe Supergirl was a little more exciting, because of the damn suit, but the face... Kara was... it was... Cat took a sip of her bourbon, strong and bitter, and wished the burn could wash away the feelings she had for this heroine. The pure untamed lust. Cat didn't know whether it was the suit, the powers, the pure desire she had for Kara herself as an assistant and so damn sunny all the time, or just the beauty, but damn, she couldn't get rid of it. Cat had pushed her, held her, even rocked her through that orgasm, knowing by Kara's undeniably strong reaction with the crushing of the railing and the wall inside the elevator, that it had been Kara's first real orgasm. Cat had wanted her so much then, wanting nothing more than to let Kara's wandering hands give her the same release... And then, gone. Cat had promised herself no more. After that, she had assured herself of it. Repeatedly. She wouldn't fall that way again. Not for her assistant. Cat wanted her just the same, more, even. But she would not do that again. Cat was lucky that nobody had caught them then, and wondered what scandal could have happened if they had been caught, or if they got caught again. Which again reenforced Cat's adamant promise to not do this again with Kara. So the orgasm had been amazing, and so Cat wanted to see that face again and wake up to it daily and go to sleep staring at it, but she would not. For both of them, Cat would not make that mistake again. Even if Kara was Supergirl, and Supergirl had the prettiest smile in the universe. And Cat knew. Of course Cat knew. Kara was Supergirl. Which made all of this so much worse, and better, at the same time. It was so much worse, because it meant the girl she lusted after daily, nightly, in all her dreams, was her colleague. Her assistant. Sunny Danvers. The one and only. Cat groaned at the vision in her mind, of stunning Kara in her office, asking over files and notes, tapping at her iPad, and the epic realization that even once she'd promised she wouldn't do this again, to herself more than anyone else, and pushed Kara away more than ever before, it was Supergirl that was like a drug Cat couldn't resist and had Cat allowing her to come back and play with her again. Quite literally. Again and again, Cat had kept promising herself to keep the heroine away, to keep Kara at bay, only to break so easily when Kara came back, and worked her alien magic again, and the moaning and whimpering and whispered words, both human and alien, and the pure fire. And it burned like the sweetest sin. Cat promised herself she wouldn't. Not again. And then Kara came to her, and Cat could only say yes. The first night had shocked Cat. She hadn't expected Kara, after she'd done that to her. Gotten her off in that elevator, then asked her to leave. For the most part, Cat had expected Kara to quit, or sue her, or say Cat had harassed her. And Cat wouldn't have been able to say no. For days, nothing. Kara had come to work as usual, but hadn't said much, and Cat hadn't either, but then Kara had shown up on her balcony, or Supergirl had. And she'd confessed her love to Cat. Cat had assumed that Kara must know that Cat knew, and when she'd asked why now, expecting Kara to reveal everything, Kara had simply said that she'd recently come to terms with being herself as Supergirl, and herself involved Cat. It had been at 2 am of all things, Kara had come into her bedroom through the balcony, and Cat had to fight everything she had to keep from screaming in pleasure, because Kara really knew what to do with her mouth and her powers, and Carter was asleep two doors down. And she had to try really hard to not shout Kara's name, because Kara thought Cat didn't know. And that was the strangest part of all of this. Maybe that night had been Kara's lust more than Cat's, but Cat hadn't been able to sleep at all anyways, dreams of Kara keeping her awake, so Cat honestly didn't have the power to say no. And knowing Kara felt the same, it made it all so much stronger, burning them both, and Cat had found herself wishing Kara back even while she fought herself to stay away from the girl. Then it had been a week later, Cat had given in again, in her own office of all things, in her desk chair, her throne, and fuck, Cat had screamed then. Her fault, she'd asked Supergirl for an exclusive interview. Well, it had certainly been exclusive. Completely and utterly so. The next 4 times had been at various places, the town car in the parking lot after Supergirl had come to her party, the beach one night when Kara was on patrol around the city and flying Super close to Cat's penthouse, in the meeting room before a meeting that Supergirl had agreed to join with the CatCo board members and Cat, and, then, surprising for Cat, her dining room table when Cat was home alone and drowning herself in another glass of bourbon and her sorrows and fears of this elicit tryst they were having. At this point Cat had long forgotten who's lust was stronger, but still kept promising, or was it begging at this point?, to stop this, knowing she'd never be able to as long as Kara kept coming, literally and figuratively. Because Kara was still her assistant, and Kara still believed Cat didn't know. So Kara had found a solution to that secret in the form of a blindfold, and fuck, Cat couldn't deny that she'd always had a thing for superheroes and maybe it was a kink, but Supergirl's cape was really very beautiful, and so was the feeling of having someone with such godly powers dominating you. For Cat that might seem odd, and it was even odd to her sometimes, but it was truthful, the kink she had. Cat, the queen, liked to be dominated. That, was odd, and true. And that was why Cat was here tonight, by her penthouse balcony in her lounge chair, trying to let the cold evening wind break this heated frenzy she was in. Because Supergirl was here again. A problem in the local street that had required Supergirl's attention, had her coming up here after at seeing Cat watching from the balcony. And it had taken less than 2 minutes of talk about the crash below and their feelings for words to vanish and moans to replace it when Cat could physically not keep her hands to herself and more or less pulled Kara onto said lounger by her cape, publicity scandals be damned for anyone who might be watching. And now Kara was here, placing that same lace blindfold over her eyes while Cat seriously wondered if resisting this hero was humanly possible. She shouldn't have her. At all. This girl, this amazing beautiful heroine was her assistant at CatCo. And Cat shouldn't have this chance. And Kara didn't know that Cat knew. Kara was still keeping up this facade, most of which had led to the current blindfold made out of the lace tie of Cat's light robe that Kara had found the first time she'd been here in the middle of the night to fuck Cat senseless, and Cat whimpered when she felt Kara lightly tie it and run her fingers through blonde hair, then kiss her head. Cat sighed and placed her glass on the floor below the lounger safely before she crushed the crystal from sheer lust alone, and sighed when she felt the comforter beneath her shift and bend under Kara's weight, and even more so when she felt Kara's fingers thread again into her hair and hold on to the knot of the makeshift blindfold and felt Kara lean in to kiss her, warm breath coasting over her chin just before Kara's perfect lips fell over her own. Cat arched into the the hero's body, back coming off the lounger, her mantra of ''don't give in, don't give in, don't give in'' going foggy in her mind at the feel of Kara's lips on hers, Kara's free hand coming up to her waist to hold her down, and then felt her hand slide up until it was at her throat, ever so gentle but powerful in the same second. Cat felt her delicate fingers tighten barely, spread out over her collarbones and neck, and Cat swallowed deeply as her mind went blank under Supergirl's spell, under her truly alien touch, and hell, Cat had never been so close from a simple touch, still fully clothed in her work suit, and suddenly Cat was very glad that she'd decided to opt to go without a bra or shirt underneath her blazer. She'd done it to tease, Cat liked teasing people, and now, well, Cat regretted all of this, and none of it at the same time. This shouldn't be happening, but just like last time in that elevator, and every subsequent time in every place, Cat knew she was incapable of refusing Kara anything. That included this, and when Kara sat back and hooked her hand under Cat's thigh and hiked Cat's leg up over her own hip, settling her own warm self, wet panties and all, right against Cat's, Cat outright moaned and dropped her head back, feeling Kara's booted leg slip up against her thigh, against her bare leg where Kara had pushed her pencil skirt up to her waist. Cat fisted at the sheets with one hand and a stray pillow with the other, trying to think about what the hell she would do when this was over, how she would deal with it once Kara got either tired and sleepy from this or had to leave for another emergency, and vaguely, somewhere in the back of her lust addled brain, what she had to look like like this, blindfolded on her balcony lounger with a Supergirl in her lap, holding you down with wickedly strong fingertips while she... oh god. Kara started rocking, up against Cat, and Cat let out a moan at the feeling, and laughed when Kara moaned as well, a dark beautiful sound that Cat couldn't pin to the sunny Danvers she knew. Now Supergirl though... oh yes that sounded more like it... She could hear Kara's laugh, in between her own, and it pushed her so much closer, especially when Cat felt Kara's hand slide down on her leg, holding her ankle higher to her shoulder, cradling her leg, and Cat bit her lip at the feel of Kara's suit, the cape, brushing her leg. Kara had done that in the town car too, and on her dining room table, and Cat remembered it well enough to know this would be so... Cat bit her lip and crushed her eyes closed underneath the lace, feeling the fire build. When Kara moaned again, strangled and deep his time, and Cat felt her fingers tighten her hold, Cat reached up and fought with the lace over her eyes. Pulling it away to see. Kara come undone. Cat couldn't resist, Kara was stunning in that second. Cat got the scrap of material off just in time to see Kara whimper and arch her back, and moan loudly, her face adorably beautiful as she felt that same lust race through her like gasoline poured onto a raging fire. Cat moaned at the sight of her, blonde hair all over, her bright S coat of arms on her chest blaring brightly, and that was all Cat needed. --- When Cat opened her eyes, tears down her face at how strongly she had crushed her eyes closed at that release, she met bright blue eyes that stared at her sleepily, long lashes fluttering over pale cheeks when she blinked. Cat stared, hypnotized for a moment by the wild blue colour, the eyes she was used to seeing in her office daily. Cat stared openly, unsure of what to say, her heart still pounding loudly in her ears, and brought a hand into Kara's messy hair, watching as Kara leaned into her touch, closing her eyes at the feeling. Cat smiled at her and grinned when Kara crawled higher over her and kissed her on her lips, smiling as well, and Cat sighed tiredly. ''I can't anymore, Kara.'' Cat said, staring at Kara's widening eyes at hearing her name, but continued. ''I know it's you, it makes it even better, and I can't fucking stay away from you. I love you, I need you, you're my hero and no one else's. No more games.'' ''No more games, you're right, Cat. And for the record, I don't want to be anyone else's hero. Just yours. I love you.''

#I'm dead now #I can't believe I wrote this thing #cat grant #Kara danvers #Supergirl #supercatslam7 #7 deadly sins #sin #lust #fuck me supercat is everything #I'll go down with this ship #supercat #supercatslam #supercatslam day #oh baby I'm good at this

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joshuazev · 6 years

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On the state: part 2

In a continuation of yesterday’s segment, I will push forward with my review of the current state of things in various areas of life.

The state of music: Technology has certainly changed the landscape of everything it has touched. Music is no different. Nowadays, it seems like everyone is making music and with the success of streaming subscription services like Spotify, Apple Music, and Tidal there is more access than ever before. Access has transcended more than just the ability to listen to music, but the ability to make music too. I don’t know if the term was coined in 2017, but titles such as “soundcloud rappers” started to get pushed to the forefront. A “soundcloud rapper” is obviously more than just a name. To me, it refers to the facility at which anyone can record music, upload it, and get millions of plays almost overnight. Some would say this is great. The more the merrier. Competition is good. I guess I have an old soul perspective on the matter. Something out anyone and everyone putting out music doesn’t go over well with me. It removes some of the sanctity that I associate with a real artist, who has to go through a struggle to put out a record. This could be just my problem—a bitter one at that, but I don’t think I’m alone. In addition, it seems like people’s real voices have gone to the dumpsters—and again, I’m speaking mainly of the rap, rap/singer genre. Autotune and voice alteration is at a all time high. I’m a purist when it comes to listening to a singer’s voice, however raw, unpracticed, or divine it might be. I think the flaws of the newer generation (even as narrowed down to people in the past couple years) are very much exposed when they try to do live performances. Their voices don’t hold up. Now, all the hate, bitterness, and negative feeling aside from seeing everybody on stage and everyone on the internet getting millions of views…the presence of Spotify, Apple Music, and yes, Soundcloud, has provided access to a sickening amount of really really tremendous artists, too. I suppose you would expect that, the good and the bad. In literally every genre there are thousands upon thousands of new artists and a lot of them are really good. And more exposure to international artists! (Yes, on the whole, some are bad but lets focus on the good). Lets say, for example, that you wanted to listen to people like Erykah Badu or some other neo soul artist. A platform like Spotify will give you countless other artists that sound like her. Now, again, that does lead to some issues. While there might be a bunch of artists similar to her, that becomes the problem; an overabundance and over saturation of similar sounding artists, which, in turn, can take away from the original artist and the original sound. I liken the new emergence of artists to the numbers game. The “10s” are few and far between. Currently, we are getting flooded with “6s” and “7s.” The record stores of the world are all but extinct, which is truly a drag. Strands bookstore’s equivalent from a record store standpoint is something like Amoeba. I think this year or in the upcoming year the Amoeba in Los Angeles will be gone. Seems sacrilegious that such a place can be gone, although I do think that a few remain in the Bay Area. Music, music, music.

I think a lot of people would say music is thriving. The attitude in New York would definitely make me think so. We are seeing more and more cities follow New York’s lead, especially with respect to the younger generations, because now up and coming artists are playing to sold out shows all over the country, and the really big ones are doing international tours. Could the new access be the one to thank? Festivals are experiencing the same popularity. Does anyone know how “Desert Trip” (dubbed the Coachella for the older generation) did? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was met with tremendous success. When I was growing up people paid more attention to release dates for albums because you would go to the store to get them? Now we can afford to be more lazy. We can download it legally or illegally. In all seriousness, I think 2017 was more of the same on the music front. Some good. Some bad. Award shows still suck. What could possibly be different in 2018? To be honest, I really don’t know. I have zero expectations for music anymore. I don’t anticipate it or get excited in the way I used to. That kind of makes me sound like an old head wishing we were all still back in the good old days, but fuck it. Personally, I’ll try to go to more concerts in 2018. Broaden my horizons. I started a music of the world document that I want to build on because that might be the best thing about all the new access and exposure of these streaming services. It’s affected the artists, too! Take someone like Drake who, on each of his last few albums, has had a different international inspiration of sound. That could be directly attributed to knowing about more music and I think several artists did the same. Let’s see what you got for us 2018.

The state of books, articles, and literature: Sadly, I would know more about this subject if I was reading more. This year there were various stages of reading a lot and many months where I read nothing at all. Articles are leaps and bounds the easiest thing to get your hands on in this day and age. When I wake up in the morning, if my phone is right next to me, I’m going on the internet first thing (this is actually a habit I’m working to change). I’m reading the newest, latest on what happened in the sporting world. There are several journalists I follow or, at the very least, enjoy reading. When I lived in Washington Heights I was reading a free subscription of the New Yorker. In my eyes, that’s still high quality work. Book wise, I might be naive in wanting there to be another Harry Potter on the horizon. Luckily, we all still have Harry Potter. Blogs are still thriving. I don’t follow that many others, but there are blogs about literally everything. I finished a book today “the Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck” and that basically spawned from the popularity the author received from doing a blog. Kindles and iPads are still doing their part to eliminate physical books from being in our hands, but its easy to forget that that’s going on when you live in New York and you see the city known as Strands. I’m coming from Seattle where my memory of pubic transportation is a Kindle in the hands of every other person, but in New York…you got books in hand. Biographies. Novels. Non-fiction. Anthologies. Plays. Those forms of literature are still alive and well. Yet, 2017 was also a piggy back year with regards to books on tape. Very trendy. Podcasts (not exactly related to the topic), but also very popular. In the way that kindles and iPads took away from books in Seattle, the forms of media available in earplug mode continued to surge. Facebook also continues to be a contributing factor in sharing articles. People live two places in this day and age. They live at home and they live on Facebook, but if there is one thing that keeps Facebook solid it’s that you’re bound to see articles, op-eds, editorials, and publications that match your circle of friends. The access is real. Personally, I know I didn’t read enough in 2017. Like just now, I had a sentence that I was going to write that centered around a concept, but in the seconds of thinking how I was going to frame the sentence on paper, I forgot the central word. I’m telling you that that only happens when you go from reading to not reading or not reading enough, plain and simple.

Reading remains one of the only activities that I believe slows down time, and for the better. I have anxiety about reading because there will be times when I think, “what is happening right now in the world!?” I’ve needed to confront this idea head on because I worry about time and especially time running out. Reading, in damn near every situation, is peace. Granted, sometimes what you’re reading isn’t very peaceful, but the action itself is. I can’t tell you how many people I know that don’t read at all. Some that don’t touch a book or some like me that take the step of getting the book or checking it out from the library and then let it gather dust. The book takes on the role of a show piece. I digress, but maybe not so much. Bookstores are in the same boat as record stores. Who buys CDs? The same people that probably buy books. And nowadays there are too many streaming services and devices that make it “easier” to do both of those things. One day, in the era of Trump, maybe all of the servers will crash and burn and the Internet will be gone and so will all the information we thought we could get at the drop of a hat. And maybe, just maybe, there will be this crazy exodus of people going to record stores and bookstores all across the world, trying to get their hands on the things they once valued so much before everything was so easy. I digress again. Is it just as easy for one to make music and have thousands of people listen as it is for someone to write a book or a novel or start a blog? A soundcloud rapper and a blogger are damn near the same thing, but that brings back the question of purity and whether or not a “real artist” can be either of those two things (in the same way that someone who is YouTube famous or Instagram famous might not be considered in the same light as a movie star. Just like the preceding years before, the definition of an author is being stretched and RE-defined. I wouldn’t be surprised and, to be honest, I’d probably expect that line of what an author is to be stretched even further. Maybe it’s because I didn’t read as much this year, but the pool of legitimate authors didn’t seem as big. I still found there to be a lot of quality pieces being written. Maybe next year, when I expose myself to as much literature as I do to music, I’ll find the same results as I did this year with artists. Who knows. With respect to the two above mediums it’s easy to get lost in space.

I’m tired. Three more days. And resolutions to come.

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