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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

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The Deal Pt 2

Masterlist

Summary: Clark take you to august to finish the deal.

Warnings: Adult Situations +18, Smut, Dub Con, BDSM, Toys

A/N: second part to @wolfieash ask which is here

Taglist: in reblog.

Smut below the cut.

"NO IM NOT GOING ! AND YOU CAN FUCK OFF!" You yelled chasing Clark into the living room arms cross and lips pulled into a snarl.

He rolled his eyes at you, you'd been throwing a fit all day.

"Sweetheart, you made a deal, gave him your word... you cant go back on it" he insisted once more trying to convince you.

"Yes I can it was my word! Not yours, I can do what I want!" You huffed blowing some hair out of your face it was hard trying to be serious when your hair seemed to want to stick in your mouth.

"No poppet I'm not letting you break you word , now get dressed we leave in a hour" he said quickly spinning you around pressing you to the bedroom door.

"Fuck you, I'm not going anywhere!" You grunted pulling away from him.

"Tonight love I promise, now go get ready august is expecting us..." he said grinning almost sweetly at you.

"I don't give a flying fuck! I'm not going" you stomped a foot at him finally making his brow twitch, jaw tightening in irritation.

He stood taller and let his frame seem to devour the space on the hall making you shrink, shivering as you watched your sweet fiancé become a great predator. A loin or bear?

"Sweetheart enough! Now go get dressed...I laid out your outfit" he ground out severely finally having enough. A deal was a deal... and he wanted your ass!

"Out fit? What outfit-OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" You cried entering your room seeing the shear fabric

"That? Its a little body stocking~" Clark said leaning on the door frame arms crossed wearing a huge grin.

"IM NOT WEARING A FUCKING BODYSTOCKING!"

"Well I would if I were you because if not there will be images of your naked ass being flown about on the front pages tomorrow~" he quipped with a smirk.

"Yo-you wouldn't dare!" You said voice loosing its bite as he stared at you.

"Wouldn't I? I mean come on love anal's on the line~" he teased and moved up behind you and slapped your bottom hard enough to make you yip and jerk away.

"Now hop to it... You've got 50 minuets~" he called over his shoulder as he exited the room.

In the end Clarks threat of having you mooney metropolis was too much of a threat and you'd showered and slipped into the body stocking...

But you didn't shave! If they were gonna push through with your whole sex for silence deal then they would live with the consequences! No bare pussy for either of them!

Fuck'em.... or don't? Which was preferable

It wasn't that you didn't enjoy it, it was that you did... a little more then you should have! It frightened you the way you'd enjoyed being used and fought over.

"Oh come on why the long face angel?" August hummed as he opened the glass doors on his rooftop home, the penthouse was shiny sleek and as dark as the man himself.

"Fuck off august!" you grumbled walking right passed him as soon as Clark put you down

"Oh such a foul mouth! We will have to teach you some manners~" the agent quipped as you entered the bare but masculine space, everything was harsh lines and fucked up art pieces of splotching blocky shades of black, red and deep violet.

"Yes she's very snippy today... has been all week, pouting" Clark huffed shrugging. Taking the offered crystal glass with amber liquid.

"Ah we have a brat on our hands then?" August chuckled and walked through the home quickly snagging one of your elbows and directed you to the playroom, not wasting any time.

"Yeah, she doesn't want me to fuck her ass" Clark summarized with a shrug.

"Aww Why not sweety? You loved me fucking your ass? You cried and withered moaning so beautifully~" august hummed into your ear as he pressed you over the threshold into a large windowless room, strip lighting igniting the room in a light red. The devils den so to speak.

"Sh-shut up you prick" you snarled.

Augusts reply was a tsk and he pressed you over to a padded sawhorse and looked to Clark nodding to the ankle and wrist cuffs.

Clark breezed past him quickly securing you down making you curse him, but by this point it was a formality as you had already soaked yourself through.

"Oh would you look at that? Our little brat is eager~" august said with a chuckle and a warm hand probed you lightly making you jolt and try to squirm away.

"Yes I know, she likes denying herself, its strange she knows we will win but Continues to fight?" He said coming around your side ghosting his fingers over your ribs making you shudder.

"Well lets not waste time shall we? I have a few things out ready but first lets get this fitted shall we?" August said menacingly walking around you brandishing a very large O ring gag.

"After all if she's going to throw a tantrum I don't trust her not to bite" he uttered moving towards you.

"I've never thought of using one of those before... it wont hurt her will it?"

"Only her pride Clark trust me even she needs a... dressing down every once in a while" august reassured him.

Your eyes grew wide as the agent approached with the large gag that looked both threatening and enticing, things had been kinky with august but you hadn't ever gone this far into bdsm before. You were scared and still fighting but not as hard? You were curious and being dominated by them last week had... changed you. It had been thrilling to be so out of control.

"Should we... give her a signal or something? Incase it gets to much?" Clark quizzed, he was still all for it but wanted to be mindful of you. He didn't want to hurt you.

"Trust me she's going to love it, but in the case of something going wrong" august directed his attention to you befo4e continuing.

"There is a small desk bell one the inside of the left leg on the saw horse... if thing get too much hit it three times fast and we will get you down" he said seriously.

You frowned as his gaze bored into you, for a second you believed you saw actual concern in his eyes.

It unsettled you, August couldn't really have any feelings towards you could he? I mean this was blackmail!

You nodded quickly to him letting him know you understood.

Then just like that August was haughty again and quickly fixed the gag in your mouth, setting your teeth in the small grooves that was semi comfortable.

"Shes ready when you are~" the agent hummed and stood back.

Clark darted behind you and helped himself to you and august disappeared from sight.

You moaned into the room as your fiancé roamed your folds as if exploring them for the first time.

He was rougher then usual prodding and impaling you fast and hard before slowing and drawing your own arousal over your presented ass.

You withered as Clark used you body, pressing you higher and higher making you teeter on then edge then back away letting you calm down only to work you up again.

"I thought we could... try something... a little bonus for all of us tonight~" you heard august but couldn't see him.

"I'm listening" Clark said as he plunged his fingers back into you harder throwing off your concentration making you cry out.

"I have this" you tried seeing what August had but was too preoccupied with the maddening strokes of clark's fingers as he pounded away at your g-spot forcing you to try and rock on him chasing a high he had already cruely denied you twice.

"What even is that thing?" Cark said not paying attention to you as your body twisted and pulled trying to cum like a desperate whore.

"Here ill show you~" august said and Clarks fingers disappeared from you making you cry out and moan, your pussy tried holding him but it was to drenched to actually grip him.

Then something was pressed into you, large wide and very short.

"Oh-oh fuck?!AH!" You yelped awkwardly around the gag as the toy settled, curved forward and down pressing on your gspot without being held. There was a large flat expanse resting outside of you to, the toy curved in a large C shape.

"Does that go up her?"

"No no, we just pop her little clit in here~ and press the button!" You jerked as august moved you, thick fingers prodding your clit and sat the engorged nub into a small round dip and pressed a button.

You squealed tensing all at once as you felt a suction on your clit and roared.

"Holy shit?" Clark said in awe watching as you keened and tried throwing you weight around on the toy that was held in place by your muscles clenching to it so tightly... It was bittersweet in a way, your own body holding the sweet torturous device on your clit.

"And it gets better, press that one" you hear a small click and arched moaning out as the egg like shape inside of you came to life vibrating against your insides.

Clark watched entranced as you withered this is what he'd been missing out on? Fuck!

August darted around you and strokes you hair watching as Clark stripped behind you unable to wait any longer as you thrashed about trying to rock into the toy.

"Shh shh thats a girl, now deep breath your wonderboy may be a little too enthusiastic if your doing all that squirming~"

You froze feeling Clark poise himself at your well lubed ass then grunted as he thrust forward splitting you open.

Clark hissed and moaned loudly as the vibrating egg not only made you quiver and tense around him already threatening to flood the place but it also rubbed his cock as he rutted you.

"Oh fuck- thats amazing! I cant- I shit babe!?" Clark didn't wait he immediately began pounding in to the tight quivering body before him.

August chuckled once more before releasing his own belt buckle. Not wanting to let your wails and monas go to waste.

They would work wonders on his cock, offering the sweetest of releases as you screamed onto his cock as he lodged it into your throat.

August was never into men, but he could develop a thing for corrupting this huge perfect man.

For now August would let you and Clark think you were in control of the deal. Let this one final night play out.

But the seed was sewn and before long he knew Superman would return wanting to explore more and more of this little sex dungeon. And then he will strike another deal.

Because August wasn't opposed to making a little compromise to get decent pussy. If he had to share with Supes so be it, it looked like he could teach the kid a thing or two and he would gladly, because he had many more toys to tease you both with~

If things went to plan he'd have not one but two desperate little subs. And he couldn't wait!

#henry cavill #clark kent imagine #august walker x reader #clark kent smut #august walker smut #superman smut #superman imagine

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fleckcmscott · 3 years

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Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth. "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet @ralugraphics @iartsometimes

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Professor Cavill, Sir

Summary: Professor Cavill keeps giving you failing grades on your assignments even though you are 100% certain you are a brilliant student. You decide to march down to his office and confront him.

Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x Reader

Word count: 3K

Warnings: Abuse of power, MaleDom / FemSub, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, orgasm denial, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, creampie. (Basically all the good stuff)

A/N: While composing this post, I noticed I passed my 1500 followers. So first and foremost, THANK YOU, thank you for following, believing in me and sending me DMs. You are just as important to me. I’ll probably write a more emotional thank you post tonight. But just had to say something now 🥺

Thanks the anon who made this prompt request! And thanks @agniavateira for being my beta and muse.

I also recommend reading @ladyreapermc astonishing professor Cavil stories!!!

Title: Professor Cavil, Sir

You know you are a good student, you’re brilliant, even smarter than the airheads who harbour the classroom. Yet, Professor Cavill seems to have some sort of beef with you. He marches around the classroom, giving you cold stares and your grades are constantly dropping with each assignment you hand over.

Fine, he is beyond handsome and all the girls are soaked for him but damn, you hate this man with passion and you’ve had it. You wait one afternoon when the halls of the academy are nearly empty so you can march into his office and tell him exactly what you think.

You play the scenario in your mind for hours. You know exactly what you are going to say and how but the moment you barge into his office, your words melt into an incoherent cluster of yelling that don’t make much sense by the look on Professor Cavill’s face.

“I am a smart woman!!! You... you... you have no right!!!”

The professor crooks his right eyebrow, peering at you from an assignment he is browsing through. He seems unimpressed by your dramatic entrance, putting the paper on his desk and then finally gesturing for you to sit at his desk.

Heaving from the anxiety that’s about to burst your heart, you shut the door and take two strides to sit in front of him, feeling the blush burn from your cheeks down to your chest. It takes less than a minute for you to conclude that you are a meek, little fly that walked straight into the web of a big, hungry spider.

Henry laces his hands together, elbows resting on the wooden desk and his eyes seeking yours with a grin, which in your rage you only interpret as arrogance.

“Yes, you’re smart. You are the most brilliant student in my class.” he compliments, which does nothing but make the rush of blood escalate and flow ecstatically to your nether regions.

“But you don’t see much.”

You give a sheepish stare, feeling your ears burn in embarrassment as he gets up from his chair and shifts to half-sit on the corner of the desk, blocking your only way out. Somehow, the only thing that goes through your head is “fuck me”.

These words nearly roll on your tongue as you open your mouth, staring at professor Cavill’s god-like face.

“I...”

“Am I wrong?” he asks you, his fingers reaching beneath your chin, the soft pads of his tips bumping it up so your gaze will entwine.

“Tell me, do you wish to leave?”

“No,” you hear your own voice tremble as you answer.

A deep crease appears at his cheek as his lips stretch into a slanted smirk. His fingers leave your chin to remove his glasses and lay them on the desk. His eyes shine at you, glistening with lust. “What do you want then?”

Your lips part, heart beating through your throat. The tendon at your neck twitches, sure that he can see it too.

“I want you to fuck me on your desk.”

Henry’s icy glare travels upon the outlines of your face, studying each freckle carefully. No words come out from the man who speaks so greatly, his cold silence challenging, tiny sparks of panic waking at the back of your head.

What have I done?! Have I misunderstood his intentions? Was this just all happening in my mind?

You swallow the dry lump in your throat, about to open your mouth to a gush of apologies when Henry’s large palm lifts to ghost above your jaw. His thumb meets the plumpness of your lips and tugs at your bottom lip to dampen the pad of his finger.

"Such a dirty mouth you’ve got there,” he comments. His velvety British accent sends tremors to the walls of your beating core. The slightest of touch makes your panties embarrassingly moist, viscid against the petals of your womanhood. Shifting in the chair uncomfortably, the black knife-pleated skirt ascends and exposes the silkiness of your legs. Much of a treat to his famished icicles.

Saturated dreams of Professor Cavill kept you sweaty in the middle of the night, as any of the women attending his course. It wasn’t just his thick dark hair that curled at the edge and the criminally-sculpted cheekbones, nor was it that broad structure hidden underneath a buttoned-down blue shirt. It was his confidence, his stark charisma. Passion shimmered in his eyes when he spoke about wars throughout history and razed enemy cities.

Damn if you didn’t want him to destroy yours.

“Spread your legs, let me see you.” he demands, his voice deepening along with the shade of his gaze. No thoughts of protest come to mind. You obey, surrendering every will to his demand, thighs pressed open to each side of the wooden office chair.

Henry’s index finger rims your mouth from east to west, toying the red pillows of your lips and sliding the tip inside to flirt with your whispering tongue.

“Now, roll your panties down your knees.”

Cold shivers run through the sinew of your muscles like an electric current, making you spasm on the chair, unhidden from Henry’s satisfaction. He scoffs at your behavior, a small grin painting his chiseled jaw. You’re behaving like a virgin, all doe eyes and trembling knees. You’re certain he finds you pathetic to the point of humor.

“Be a good girl and I’ll fuck you like a bad one.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers onto the elastic band of your panties and slowly pull them down to your knees. The cold air of the room hits the exposed groove of your body and you hiss at the sensation, throbbing with excitement and fright.

The bulge in Henry’s trousers appears to be threateningly large, the outlines of his cock winking toward your desirable image. You nearly bite his fingertip as your mind sinks into momentary fantasies of how specifically large his cock is beneath those cream-colored trousers.

It would be a lie to say you haven’t glanced at that region of his groin during his classes once or twice.

Henry reaches his free hand to lift your skirt and peek at your mound, his tongue flicking over the freckle of his bottom lips as he finds you sleek with arousal. The wooden surface is damp with your sweat and the smooth elixir of your cunt.

It makes him smile in a way that nearly makes you feel ashamed.

“Suck,” he orders and his fingers enter your mouth before you even choose to question. Shoving deep to challenge your devotion to him. Your tongue laps around skin and bone, cheeks hollowing out instinctively as you coat him with your saliva and hum at the sensation of having him in your mouth.

A low growl forms in the pit of his chest, loud enough to vibrate at your reddening ears. He is impressed by how submissive you are to his wanton, completely opposite to the way you’ve rudely barged into his office. When you woke up this morning you had every intention of showing him how little you think of him and his grades, and yet here you are, dripping on his chair like some shameless slut.

This is a dangerous ground; you’re treading on thin ice, but there is no will power strong enough to stop you.

From the moment you walked into this room, you were already his.

“Such a good girl.”

His fingers slide out of your mouth, glistening with your spit in the warm lighting of his cozy office. With shallow breathing and quivering lips, your fists grip the edge of the chair with fear while his fingers descend and disappear beneath your skirt.

A lingering gasp leaves your mouth as his fingers spread open your folds. Probing inside almost clinically, as a thing to be toyed with. His fingers push knuckle deep, exploring the warmth of your soaking pit and grinding in slightly to elicit pathetic little moans from your throat.

“You know how much I’ve longed for this?”

His thick baritone sends shivers down your neck as he leans closer to half-whisper against your ear. Small whimpers escape from your lips in response.

Henry slips even deeper, thumb ghosting over your yearning clit, mimicking phantom circles in the air in order to torture you. Begging, you attempt to push forward and grind at his fingers for more friction but you are answered with the scolding tick of his tongue.

“You’ll come when I say so.”

“Professor Hen…”

A pained hiss shudders through you, tiny creases forming at the corners of your eyes as you shut them tightly due to the pain that stings your scalp. Henry’s fist closes over your hair, tugging your head back to punish your disobedience.

Deep in the cells which survey logic in your mind you know you shouldn’t like this.However, your body tells a different tale: skin tingling, slit clenching around his fingers just from the rush of fear.

“I can’t wait to feel your sweet little pussy around my cock,” he murmurs in a husky voice, his fingers pumping slightly, curling within your succulent cavern to learn each of your vocal reactions. You are spasming around him as inch by inch he seeks inside you, obsessed with desire to find that one spot that will reduce you to nothing but a boneless being.

“Aww…” he coos at your teetering yips, his lips perched into a mocking pout as he sees the begging in your big, aching eyes. Holding the natural need of your body hurts, like molten fire, all pent-up inside. You can feel it coursing through each organ of your body, intensified by the hard shoves of his fingers. You’re nearly lifted from your seat by the force of his thrusts.

“You want to come, my sweet darling?”

“Please, Sir!” for a moment there you thought you were asking, but what comes out of your mouth is nothing but a humiliating whine. Aching inside, your fists numb over, your shaking legs get drenched with sweat as his hairy arm constantly strokes between your knees. Impassioned, he pumps into you back and forth, thrilled by the way you melt around his fingers as his tips tickle your most sacred pleats.

“You can come, sweetheart.”

The room goes black for a few seconds as pleasure takes the reins, railing you toward your orgasm with incredible force. A cluster of cries drains from your mouth. You’ve never had anyone deny your pleasure, not like this. The pain was harrowing yet the payoff makes you reach stars, your state of paradise was prolonged and for a moment, you float on air.

“Good girl.” Henry growls praises at you, his fingers sliding outside your convulsing cunt and slipping into his own mouth as he suckles on your honey. He lets out a hum, his tongue lapping over his fingertips while his eyes pierce into yours.

Still catching on your breath, you look at the professor, his face glowing as the sunset beams through the window, coloring his criminally beautiful face in gold and amber hues. There is a murmur dancing in your heart, still not believing that this man, who you spent lonely nights pining for, is about to put himself inside you.

Grasping your waist, Henry collects you with surprising ease from the chair, sitting your ass on his desk so harshly the mahogany surface slaps your naked ass. His hands press your legs apart as he moves to stand between them. You see the flames of lust burning in his eyes, as tough and authoritative as he is. Yet his lower lip still twitches with a wisp, desire weakening his roots.

You dare to touch him, tracing the shape of his jaw, dipping your finger in the strong dimple of his chin. Aggravated, he snaps your hand away, forcing it flat against the desk. He then grabs your nape, pulling you into a rough kiss that takes whatever control that was left to you. His tongue invades your mouth, a tinge of strong macchiato and cinnamon tickling your senses as your mouths play with one another.

You hear the metal clasp and the brush of leather as he unbuckles his belt and your eyes immediately fall to his groin, eager to finally see him.

Fuck.

Struck, you break away from his punishing lips, gaping at the vastness of his meaty cock. You clench your thighs around his legs, heart flinching just from the sight of it, intimidated and even frightened by the thought of him spreading your insides. A dry chuckle leaves his throat and his hand reaches to grasp himself, tugging his own pink cock and then slapping it against your cunt. He relishes the hisses and wet sounds that are produced from your pussy.

“Afraid you can’t take it?”

“You’re huge.”

You chew on your lips and moan as he slides the base of his cock between your folds smoothly, patronizingly, coating himself with your thick juices back and forth with an incubus smirk. “You know how amazing is your body, darling?” he asks and slides just the tip of his erection inside before pulling out and stroking himself against the length of your swollen lips once again. Feeble and pitiful you mewl with desperation, slouching your shoulders back, frustrated.

You want to beg but words won’t even meet your tongue.

“How much your cunt can stretch…” his words fall short as he groans with awe once his thick cock enters the narrow corridors of your slit. Inch by inch he invades, spreading you open in an agonizing pace.

Inarticulate sounds birth in your throat as his cock sheaths into your cervix. You are raw and taut, flesh throbbing furiously around his girth that fills you just right. He is thick and pulsating, enclosed by quivering velvet walls.

“Shhh…” he presses a finger to his lips and then to yours as broken moans run through your mouth.

Nodding, you purse your lips, swallowing a whimper that’s as a result of your sex throbbing together with eagerness. Henry kisses your forehead as a praise and pulls back slowly, leaving nothing but the head of his shaft, creating a sad empty void before plunging back in, achingly slow to the rhythm of your gasps.

You are fucked, in every sense of the word. The large man has a majestic hold over you; your organs don’t belong to you anymore, even your breath feels borrowed as Henry begins to pound you over his desk with guttural grunts. His hands latch beneath your knees, ramming into you like an ardent machine, yet not with a lack of style. Every pound edges you across the border of heaven, keeping quiet is nearly impossible and every cry that escapes you is punished by a hard thrust.

Your palms sweat on his desk as you flatten them behind you, your panties dangling from your ankles. Henry controls everything to the very last drop of your lust, fucking into you, slapping your wet pussy like an angry train with passionate speed.

Henry strokes all the right spots inside you, his thickness causing a trillion little spasms to sway from your apex.

Incoherent musings run through your mind; you want him to take everything, fuck you like a slut and empty his cock into your willing womb. He reaches the deepest part inside you and the most insidious thoughts take over your soul as you come undone. Your body jitters with the explosion of stars, your cunt tremoring tightly around him, demanding his rich offerings.

“I’m on the pill!”

You call breathlessly, still teetering on the strands of rapture as he twitches inside you in eager response. Henry stares at you surprised, his mouth agape as if in disbelief. He drops his gaze to where you are connected, staring at his cock sinking into your cage of delights. With his fists cuffed around your needs he slams into you ferociously, his balls thudding against your cunt with zeal, swelling and growling with bliss until he empties all of him inside you.

“Fuck!” Henry grunts, attempting to catch his breath. His sweaty forehead rests onto yours, his lips hovering, trembling at your mouth. You let your shaky hands cradle his square face, fingertips collecting droplets of sweat and smearing it down the lines of his cheeks. The powerful man who just dominated you is nothing but a gentle giant, swaying into your soothing touch.

There is a mess on his desk as he shifts away. His thick semen spills from your pummeled hole and you see the twisted pride in his eyes. You reach to slip your panties on, your chest beating angrily as you struggle to breathe.

“I hope you are not just doing this for your grades,” he warns as he zips his trousers back and leans against his bookcase, staring at you while you make a futile effort to fix your messy appearance. Your underwear is soaked with him and you dread the thought of walking home stained, smelling like sex.

“I am not a whore.” you answer, a tinge of anger at your throat. You wonder for a second if you are the only one and your heart sinks with fear, your head feeling slightly dizzy. “And you just admitted to fixing my grades so you could get me in this position, that’s the kettle cal..”

“I never said you are.” he stops you, running a hand over his hair and fixing an errant curl at the top of his head. His fierce stare searches for something in your soul.

“I’d like to do this again.”

You blink at him wordlessly, trying to figure out what sort of fantasy you just stumbled into. Obviously, there is not a bone in your body that wants you to refuse as you glance at the man of your dreams, offering you a suggestive grin.

Then it finally strikes you. You just entered a dirty bad romance.

___________________________________________________

DM me if you wish to be added/removed

#Henry Cavill #AU!Henry Cavill #Professor Cavill #Professor Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #henry cavill x reader

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 21)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3841 Warnings: fluff, angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Here we are... the aftermath.. Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 20 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Sunlight streams down, shining in between gaps of the branches of the large tree you’ve nestled under, keeping cool under the shade as you turn the page of your book. The crisp spine cracks as you adjust your grip, taking a break to sip an iced coffee. You rest it carefully beside you, in the groove of the large root breaking up from the surface.

Central Park is active for a late morning, the chatter of people passing by, the carefree laughter of children playing in the distance. You wish you were as carefree as them. The book you’re attempting to distract yourself with is not working but still you force it, needing anything to take your mind off the events of the past weekend.

Normally you would be at work but an early email from Tony Stark alerted you to him being called away for the day and generously granting you a paid day off to “enjoy the weather.” You wish you could have appreciated it, having the chance to sleep in but doing so would mean you might run into Bucky and you couldn’t have that happen.

Instead you left for work as you normally would, stuffing a tote bag with a large book and a blanket. You treated yourself to breakfast, stretching the time out as much as you could before grabbing an iced coffee and finding a large tree to plant yourself under. You check your phone for the time, making sure you wouldn’t be late for your internship but no, you weren’t; in fact time was moving so slow you thought you gained an extra hour.

It isn’t fair that Tony Stark was so generous. You’d rather be working and had you known in advance you could have possibly rearranged your schedule with Elena but you weren’t the only intern so you had to wait.

And wait...

and…

wait.

A text from Wanda distracted you for a moment, though it really didn’t. Asking how you are only reminds you that you aren’t okay. You spent Sunday night crying your eyes out in her arms, wondering why you were so stupid to think Bucky could actually like you. You weren’t special, you were just a stupid girl who thought she could actually change someone; that somehow Bucky would veer from the path he’s always been on just for you!

What a joke. You cringe when you think about how pathetic you are. It was just sex, nothing more. Wanda was right, he’s probably wanted to fuck you from the start. The Music Man was an apt nickname for the man that played you like an instrument, knowing the perfect keys to hit, the chords you thought were opening your heart but really opened your legs.

Friendship never mattered to Bucky, no– James, the man who hid himself from the start, a dollar store recorder masking himself as a flute, whose only goal was to get laid.

Coming home that night your eyes were so swollen you could barely see. You huffed up the stairs not wanting Bucky to hear the ding of the elevator as it opened on your floor. You even separated the key to your apartment so the jingling didn’t alert him of your arrival home. The last thing you wanted to do was see him.

You turned your phone off long ago, not wanting to even see Bucky’s name flash on the screen let alone hear any of his excuses. He probably wanted to smooth things over just enough to keep things peaceful between you, hoping that if you were dumb enough you would forgive him and fall in line with the rotation of other women he fucks.

Well you weren’t going to be like any of them. Desperate women, running over the moment Bucky texts before they lose their chance. Throwing themselves at him, hoping he’ll change their mind and love them just like you thought he could love you. But there is no room for love in Bucky’s cruel black heart.

The following day at work you tried to hide your emotions. With makeup you camouflaged the swelling and painted on a smile but you couldn’t hide the truth from Steve. He sat with you over a tear filled lunch as you told him everything, making him swear to you that he would not talk to Bucky.

There may have been some guilt tripping involved reminding him how you wanted to confront Lillian after she cheated on him but you didn’t because Steve asked and trusted you not to. He suggested speaking to Bucky. “It doesn’t mean you have to forgive him.” Steve’s voice echoes in your head. “He’s your neighbor, you’re going to see him eventually. Wouldn’t it be better to work this out?” Steve might have a point but you’re not interested in hearing it right now.

He invited you to stay for dinner, and that night he and Peggy helped keep you distracted for a few hours. Only they and Wanda knew what happened and you wanted to keep it that way, not wanting to cause friction within the group. Thankfully Sam was working an overnight shift on Sunday because had he been there things would have escalated.

Sam is persistent and though he always means well you knew he would have tried to patch things up between you and Bucky on the spot. Knowing how you are you would probably have lost two friends that day, lashing out at their “help” so thankfully it hadn’t come to that.

You’re not even sure why you’re keeping this a secret. For all you know Bucky may have blabbed to everyone about what happened, and if he didn’t yet he probably would soon enough. For now, you decide not to share it with anyone else, burying what happened into the back of your mind, sealed by the iron door that should have been there to protect your heart.

The book holds your attention by gossamer strings as you reread the same lines over and over, lifting your gaze up to stare comfortably at the brightness of the world around you; bright green grass with pops of yellow and white dandelions sticking up, a cloudless sky that in no way reminds you of someone’s eyes. Looks like it’s time to go back to reading.

You ignore the sound of a guy yelling– nothing unusual especially for New York, but as the sound of his voice grew closer you decided to look up. Your eyes widened with shock as it was just in time to see what he was yelling about. It was too late to move so you braced yourself, the book dropping as a giant brown pitbull jumped into your lap, its bright pink tongue wildly licking your cheek.

“Get back here!” the owner huffed, finally catching up to the dog, grabbing the leash he had accidentally dropped. “Groot! I said get back here.”

He pulled the playful dog off you, sternly telling him to sit. “Groot, sit down, I mean it.” The dog stared back at his owner, tilting his head with innocence. The man rolled his eyes quickly before kneeling in front of you. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry about that.”

His eyes were as green as a picture perfect meadow as he stared back at you, with soft pink lips that turned down into a worrisome frown. He was handsome, sun kissed skin and golden brown hair, with the hint of dark stubble peppering his sharp jaw.

“I’m okay.” You choked on your words, finding it hard to stop the smile that was pulling at your cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I know he looks intimidating but he’s a sweetheart, I promise.” The man smiled, looking back at his dog, panting with its mouth open. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

Your name floated from your lips to his ears and Peter smiled, a boyish grin that flashed pearly white teeth. “And you’ve already met, but this is Groot.”

The sound of his name made the dog perk up and rush forward towards you. Peter caught him in time before he could assault your face with his tongue again but he couldn’t stop Groot from spilling your coffee.

“Aww Groot! Come on buddy!” Peter whined.

“It’s okay,” you laughed, picking up the overturned container. “He wanted to say hello again.”

You stuck your palm out low so Groot could easily sniff it and quickly his jaw fell open with a grin, his wide tongue soaking your hand as he lapped at it. He nudged your hand with his large nose asking to be pet and you happily complied, scratching under his chin as his tail wagged back and forth.

Groot nuzzled into your lap, his heavy body rolling onto you in a plea to be pet more. Peter huffed in frustration, looking to pull his dog off you but the smile you gave him said you didn’t mind. Both hands worked on making Groot happy, scratching his ears and rubbing his chest. Peter joined in too, rubbing Groot’s belly and softly slapping his side. Your fingertips touched briefly, electric tingles racing up your arm.

Peter cleared his throat of the nervous lump that settled there, tugging gently on Groot’s leash to get off you. When he saw you began to get up Peter offered his hand. There was little hesitation when you took it, feeling his slightly calloused palms against yours. You looked away from him when you were standing, brushing off some dirt from your thighs.

“I’m sorry, again,” Peter grimaced, your clothes were dirty thanks to Groot’s dirty paws. “I feel terrible, can I buy you a cup of coffee… to make up for what Groot spilled?”

Maybe it was Peter’s big doe eyes anxiously awaiting your answer or Groot’s beaming smile but you said yes, picking up your things and walking with them a few blocks to an outdoor cafe. On the way you learned that Peter was a firefighter and looking at him you didn’t doubt it. He was tall (taller than Bucky), with a broad frame (bigger than Bucky) and large bulging biceps (also bigger than Bucky’s, though his came close).

You shake away thoughts of Bucky because you do not want to think about him. And why should you have to? Not when a very cute firefighter with an even cuter dog was pulling out the chair for you to sit down as you got to know each other.

He grew up in Missouri, raised by his mom up until she died from cancer. He was eight at the time but the slight crack in his voice he tried to clear away as he talked about her let you know how much she still meant to him.

“She called me her little star lord ‘cause all I talked about was that one day I was gonna be a space pilot.”

“So how’d you go from space to fighting fires?” you asked, smiling at him as you leaned in closer on the table.

The wait for an answer was interrupted by the server bringing your orders, another iced coffee for you, coffee with a shot of espresso for Peter and a big cup of whipped cream for Groot. Peter held the cup in his hand as Groot swiftly lapped away at his sweet treat.

“There was a fire at my grandparent’s house. I was about fifteen, sixteen at the time. I helped them get out and ran back to grab my mom’s old walkman. It’s all I had left of her.”

Peter paused, almost anticipating a comment about how stupid it was to do that but you were quiet, listening without judgment and understanding. He lifted his lips with relief and explained that after that happened he knew what he wanted to do, hoping he could save people and the homes that hold things dear to them.

“Plus my grades could probably never get me through the door at NASA,” he joked.

You and Peter spoke for the next hour, telling him about your jobs and interests. He was really easy to talk to, with no lulls or awkward silence in your conversation, and he made you laugh a lot which is something you sorely missed these past few days.

When it was nearing time to leave for work you exchanged numbers, giving Groot an enthusiastic petting and letting yourself be enveloped by the warmth of Peter’s arms for a big hug goodbye.

You were surprised to find yourself thoroughly distracted the rest of the day, with Peter in the forefront of your mind, your heart swelling with joy as you read a message he had sent while you were working.

Peter: Hey Y/N it was really great to meet you. I have another day off before my shift and was hoping we could talk again… maybe even see each other. It’s for Groot’s sake really.. I think he likes you.. 😉

A smile reached your ears and you were quick to respond. Yes, you think you liked Groot as well…

Messages exchanged back and forth on your way home and throughout the dinner you were preparing yourself. Your phone buzzed with Peter calling, preferring to talk as Groot decided to lie on top of him like a log, and it was hard to reach around him and type. You spoke until well past midnight and for the first night that week you fell asleep with ease.

Peter stayed in touch throughout the next day and asked you out to dinner. It was last minute but you didn’t mind, the less time you spent at home the better. You decided to meet at a casual spot for burgers. The place was small with limited seating but you managed to grab a table on the end of a long row so you didn’t feel completely claustrophobic.

You didn’t mind sitting close to Peter, apologizing when your knee kept banging into his under the table, getting to see his big smile up close as he told you not to worry about it. He looked great, removing a sanguine red leather jacket for a form fitting dark t-shirt, smelled even better, like almond blossoms in the rain.

Peter was scheduled to work tomorrow, a typical 24 hour shift so he ordered his burger without fries not wanting to feel weighed down by the extra calories. The golden steaming potatoes tempted him from your plate and even though you offered him to have some he declined.

“I feel bad since you’re sticking with water,” you remarked, as your drinks arrived, his water with lemon looking a little boring compared to the iced cold beer that was brought for you.

“Don’t, it’s fine,” he said. Leaning closer the words fell from his lips in a low purr, “Besides I can always taste it from your lips.”

Fire erupted on your cheeks and luckily you were with the perfect person to extinguish the flame. You saved making out with Peter until after you left the restaurant; standing outside of your building with your hands scratching through his hair as his tongue caressed yours.

His lips pulled away with your soft moan still lingering on them, and as much as he wanted to continue this Peter knew he had to get some sleep as did you. Without any haste your hands let go of each other’s, fingertips still gently grazing as you pointed your hips towards the front door. Before you lost contact Peter grabbed your waist to pull you in for another kiss, because a few more wouldn’t hurt.

The elevator carried you upstairs even though it felt like you were floating and as you reached your door the bubble you were in burst immediately as Bucky’s door creaked open. You couldn’t open your door fast enough so you were stuck having to hear him call your name, a desperate sounding cry that reeked of insincerity.

“Can we talk?” he begged.

Through a narrow eyed glance you turned to face him, lips pursed tightly as you looked him up and down. Bare feet stuck out from the bottom of dirty sweatpants, his t-shirt was worn and wrinkled, and if you were being honest he didn’t smell great. Bucky’s hair was an unkempt mess with strands sticking up wildly in all directions and a thick shadow of stubble on his face.

For a moment your heart broke for Bucky until you remembered it already broke because of him. Ice set into your veins again as you stiffly replied, “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”

The vibration of your phone in hand rescued you from a conversation you didn’t want to have in the first place. Seeing it was Peter your face softened with a smile that was once reserved for Bucky.

“I gotta take this,” you said, opening your door without giving Bucky the chance to say anything else.

His shoulders slumped, sighing defeatedly as Bucky trudged back into his apartment. It didn’t help that he could hear you through the wall, your voice light and bubbly. He crawled back into bed, past the instruments left untouched for days because the thought of creating something was hopeless; a daunting task that required Bucky to give part of himself but there was nothing to give.

Part of his soul died the day you walked away from him, not letting Bucky explain the horrible coincidence of running into a person he never intended going on a date with in the first place. You ignored his calls, didn’t answer his texts and probably rappelled up the side of the building into your apartment to avoid running into him.

If you did answer, Bucky would have told you the truth, that he did make that date long ago, that he made a lot of dates he cancelled because no one was you. He would have told you how he stopped setting up dates, that he cancelled all the ones he remembered before deleting his dating app, how it had been almost two months since he had sex and how none of that mattered because all he wanted was to give you his heart.

Everything he said over the weekend was true and he hates the fact that you won’t give him a goddamn second to prove how much he means it. Bucky rolls over, pulling the blankets above his head. He clutches a pillow close to him, a poor comparison to the way your body fit perfectly against his, shutting his eyes tight as he hopes sleep will come for him.

Friday passes slowly, the hand of every hour moving at a half-dead snail’s pace. Bucky waits to hear you coming home, having missed the opportunity to speak to you in the morning because as the sun was rising in the sky his eyelids were finally shutting. He anxiously waits for the ding of the elevator, rushing to his door to open it ajar.

His heart races as he hears the sound of keys jingling closer, pulling his door open with all his strength he’s surprised he hasn’t ripped the hinges off. But instead of seeing you approach Bucky shrinks, deflated and embarrassed to have Shuri, the teenager that lives at the end of the hall with her family, see him looking disheveled. He smiled, giving a half wave, swearing he could hear her call him a “broken white boy” under her breath. He shut the door only to wait again.

When Bucky did finally hear you come in it was late and he was a second too late, opening his door as you shut yours. He sent a text hoping you would respond to no avail. He heard you through the wall, the sound of your closet opening, the creak of the mattress as you get in bed. Bucky’s palm presses against the cold wall. It hurts knowing how close you are and yet you’ve never been further apart.

It’s a beautiful Saturday but Bucky can’t enjoy it. He paces the hallway in front of the elevator and stairwell; he is not going to miss your arrival. It’s nearing the time you normally get home from Metro-General and he prays to anyone listening that you aren’t making any stops along the way.

He needs this. He’s desperate to tell you what happened, so you could see the truth flow from his lips, the tears fall from his eyes as he begs for forgiveness of the misunderstanding.

The elevator soon grants his wish as the doors open revealing you, like the lustrous pearl of an oyster and Bucky can’t help but smile. You on the other hand were not expecting to see him. Bucky was in the same clothes, his hair a little greasier, with stubble that had grown in more. The brighter lighting of the hallway did him no favors, accentuating the deep purple bags that settled under his eyes.

He starts off right away, begging for a moment to hear him out but you strode past him, ignoring the way Bucky ran up beside you like a lost puppy looking for a home. Realizing you weren’t going to stop Bucky ran ahead, blocking your door with his body as he implored you to listen.

“No!” you barked sternly. “Get out of the way Bucky.”

He didn’t move and both of your frustrations grew. “You need to listen to me Y/N, you’ve got– ”

“Don't tell me what I need to do Bucky. You need to get out of the way.”

Not only did Bucky not move but he tried to grab your hand. You snapped it away, gritting through your teeth about how serious you were. You didn’t want to raise your voice and cause a scene with your neighbors if you didn’t have to.

“I just want to talk.” His voice was tight and Bucky fought hard to stop the tears from burning their way to his eyes.

“Well I don’t want to. Move. I have a date to get ready for.”

You stood firm, wondering if you would have to resort to having Clint come down and make Bucky leave, or worse, Natasha, but Bucky stepped aside, letting you enter your apartment without another word.

The slamming of the door masked the sound of the bubbled cry he let out, tears streaking down his cheeks. Hours later he heard a voice at your door, devastated to know you were telling the truth about your date, and dying inside at the sound of lips smacking together. He gave it a moment and opened his door quietly to see you walk hand in hand with some guy down the hall.

Bucky goes back inside, back to the safety of his bed, where he swallows Benadryl and soaks his pillow with tears as he falls asleep.

He dreams of better times, of your smile, of your touch, of all the days you spent together because in his dreams is the only place he’ll have those again.

He’s lost you.

PART 22

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

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mldrgrl · 3 years

Text

How Stella Got Her Groove Back

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: Just a little something to celebrate spring...and Stella’s birthday!

They left Connecticut in September, with a fair amount of reluctance to go, but they needed to return to the city. Becca had already gone and though both Karen and Fish insisted they were welcome to stay longer, stay forever if they had to, at a certain point, Hank and Stella had just been missing their loft and their life in New York too much. Of course, they knew that what they were returning to was not the life they were accustomed to, but they would have to learn to adapt to the new normal.

Winter was long and brutal. They did spend two weeks over Christmas and New Years back in Connecticut again and that was the first time they’d seen Becca since July, and the last time they would see her until spring. Karen had tried to coerce them all to stay again and Hank and Stella nearly gave in. If not for the fact that Stella left a project behind she’d been working on for her classes and if Hank had brought the pages he’d been working on for his new novel, they just might have done it.

When they got back to New York, and in a cabin fever-induced moment of weakness, they hired a landscape architect to design their rooftop terrace and though the noise of construction aggravated the hell out of both of them, they were both pleased with the results. They now had an artificial lawn of soft green turf, an outdoor patio daybed in the shape of a cube with canvas shades on all four sides, a wet bar, strategically placed heating lamps, and a wood burning fire pit. Unbeknownst to them, when Fish had heard their plans, he’d called the company they hired, ordered them a charcoal grill, and told the contractor to keep it a surprise. They were very surprised by the barbeque that was suddenly part of the design, but it looked nice, even if it wouldn’t get any use.

Finding ways to fill the time with nowhere to go and no one to see was extremely difficult. Neither of them were very much into television or movies. The terrace, as welcome as it was, wasn’t finished until the end of February. Stella had the classes she was teaching and the child psychology classes she was enrolled in to keep her fairly busy during the days, but Hank could only write for so many hours at a time and he found that he actually missed helping Fish with the guitar lessons. He grumbled to Stella that ‘that damn Trout’ bewitched him somehow and then begrudgingly called him up and asked if he could still help out remotely. Fish was delighted by the request and sent him an iPad and a teaching schedule.

The close quarters had caused a few squabbles, though nothing major. They took a few online cooking classes together which produced some mediocre meals and a testy exchange on the appropriate amount that constituted a ‘pinch of salt.’ Beyond that, they managed not to take out any frustrations on each other.

It was April 1st when Stella wandered from the bathroom to the bedroom in her t-shirt and sweatpants, rubbing lotion into her hands and arms. Hank was in bed, perhaps naked, or perhaps wearing jockey shorts, she couldn’t be sure. He had his guitar across his lap and his head back so that he gazed at the ceiling while he plucked lightly at the strings.

“Hank,” she said, leaning into the foot of the bed with slightly bended knees.

“Do you think ‘oral’ actually rhymes with ‘clorital’ or is it cheating?” he replied.

“You know that next week is my birthday.”

Hank splayed his hand out on the guitar and looked at her. “Is this a trick question?”

“Not at all.”

“So, if I say ‘yes, of course, your birthday is April 7th and I already know I’m not to mention it to anyone,’ is that the wrong answer because I’m not supposed to acknowledge it in the first place?”

“I am aware that in the past I have requested that my birthday be treated as any other day.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’ve been thinking that perhaps...I might like to celebrate this year after all.”

“Oh, I get it. April fools. You could’ve just put plastic wrap on the toilet or secretly replaced my regular coffee with Folgers.”

“I’m serious.”

“Ah, so the one year it’s impossible to throw a party, you want to have a party?”

“God, no. Parties are awful.”

“Well, what then?”

“Brunch? With Becca? This weekend, or the next, perhaps. There are more places opening up now. We could-”

“Absolutely, Sherlock. Whatever the suggestion, I am all in.” He pushed his guitar aside and she was mildly disappointed to discover that he was in his jockey shorts after all and not naked. He scooted forward to the end of the bed and wrapped his arms around her hips.

“A walk in the park, maybe?”

“Not sure if my legs remember what walking is at this point, so it’ll be good to remind them.” He moved his hands down to the backs of her thighs and gave them a squeeze and then cupped her ass. “Why the sudden change of heart, Sherlock?”

“I’ve just been thinking lately that it’s perfectly acceptable to want to celebrate being alive. After the year we’ve had.”

“I agree, but as long as I get to have my breakfast in bed in bed that day, I’ll be happy.”

“It’s my birthday, I’m not bringing you breakfast in bed.”

“Oh, honey, you are the breakfast,” he growled, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her into him as he fell back onto the bed.

*****

The Saturday before her birthday was Easter weekend. There was no rain in the forecast and Becca was available, so it was perfect. They took a Lyft to the upper west side and met her at a French bistro that had outdoor seating. Stella could tell right away that something was bothering Becca, that she was putting on a false front of cheerfulness, which was very unlike her, but if she did know her stepdaughter, she knew the girl could not keep up pretenses for long.

They ordered and waited for their food over bottomless mimosas and miniature ham and cheese croissants served as an appetizer. It wasn’t cold, but a cool breeze would drift by every so often and Stella was glad she had left her hair down so that her ears were covered. She wished she’d been a bit more practical though and worn pants. She’d just felt like dressing up and at the last minute, put on an olive-colored dress with small printed white flowers on it, but at least it was long-sleeved and she had a white sweater. Becca and Hank were like twins in their matching leather jackets and dark jeans.

“Are you working on anything?” Becca asked Hank.

“Almost finished,” he answered.

“Oh. What’s it about?”

“A couple that’s been married for fifteen years, but they’re on the brink of the divorce when the pandemic hits and then they go from spending almost no time together to all of their time together and it’s disastrous at first, but then they end up learning a lot about each other.”

“So, they save their marriage?”

“No, they end up getting divorced anyway.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“It’s fiction, sweetheart.”

“People like happy endings.”

“People are stupid. I didn’t say it didn’t have a happy ending though. Are you working on anything, Daughter?”

Becca sighed and picked at her nails. Stella put a hand on Hank’s knee under the table.

“Is something bothering you, Darling?” Stella asked.

“No. Yeah. No. I don’t wanna ruin your birthday or anything when it’s the first birthday we’ve ever celebrated together.”

Stella gave Becca a brief smile. “I don’t know if your father has told you why I’ve always been rather reluctant to celebrate my birthday.”

Becca shook her head. Hank stretched his arm out behind Stella’s chair and put his hand on her back. She gave his knee a squeeze of appreciation.

“My father passed away on my fourteenth birthday,” Stella said. “So, Darling, you have a high bar to overcome if you think being in a low mood will ruin my birthday.”

“That sucks about your dad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Stella looked to Hank for a moment and then back to Becca. “I’ve spent many years trying to ignore the date as though if I didn’t acknowledge it, it’s like it had never happened. I don’t think I really understood until quite recently that one is capable of being sad and grateful at the same time. And that life should be celebrated. Especially now.”

“I guess I’m just...when we were up at Mom’s house, everything was so easy and nice and I had a really hard time writing. That’s why I wanted to leave. It was way too peaceful.”

“You know if I had a dollar for every time Becca claimed my shit was fucking her up, I’d be richer than that fucking Amazon guy, and now it sounds like she wants to file a grievance that we’re not fucking her up enough.”

“Am not.” Becca rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him,” Stella said. “He’s been so mired with boredom lately he has regular calls with Fish.”

“No!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hank protested, putting his hands up in defense. “There was and will only be one bromance in my life and that’s with one Mr. Charles Runkle, that follically challenged motherfucker. No better pairing existed except for maybe Bert and Ernie, or Sid and Nancy.”

“I think we should let Becca continue with what she was trying to say.”

“Thank you.” Becca put her hand up as though she was blocking Hank from her view and he reached over and slapped her palm away. “As I was saying, I left because I thought the serenity was blocking me in some way, but since I’ve been back, it’s like the opposite. It felt so apocalyptic at first and desperate. It was like impossible to sit down and put words together when there were so many shitty things happening outside. What if...what if the next thing I finish, people will be like oh, she was just sitting inside writing while everyone else was dying?”

“There will always be shitty things happening outside,” Hank said.

“Great advice, Dad.”

“I don’t mean to bitchslap you with reality, but the world being shitty isn’t a reason to give up.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“Good, because you are way more fucking talented than I could ever even hope to be.”

“I just don’t know if it matters. If anyone should care.”

“Why should you concern yourself with that?”

Becca glared at Hank, clearly annoyed with the answer.

“I know you think I’m being facetious,” Hank said, quickly. “But, I’m not. If all anyone wanted to read was about things that ‘mattered’ that 50 Shades of Hot Garbage would never have sold a single copy. You don’t know why people read what you write. Maybe they want to escape the shitty things happening in the world. Maybe they want to laugh or cry or be turned on. Maybe they just need something to pass the time.”

“Five minutes ago you just said people were stupid for wanting happy endings, now you’re saying I should just give them garbage, if that’s what they want.”

“Yeah, I’m a fucking hypocrite, what else is new, but I just want you to be happy with what you’re doing. You want me to buy you a new laptop?”

“I’m not twelve anymore. You can’t just buy my happiness.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Becca,” Stella finally interjected. “I think it’s obvious by now that your father may possibly be the world’s worst motivational speaker.”

“Or the world’s best unmotivational speaker,” Hank said. “You see what I did there? I turned a negative into a positive.”

Both Stella and Becca ignored the comment.

“I think I may understand what he’s trying to say though,” Stella said. “I’m not a creator, but I’ve been a consumer. When I was reading for pleasure, I certainly wasn’t reaching for mystery novels. And I think that...popularity and quality are two different things. Certainly, one would hope for both, but it isn’t always the case. I know you and I know that quality is important to you, so perhaps you should only focus on if what you’re working on is the best that it can be and not on whether or not it matters.”

“Can I add something to that?” Hank asked.

“Not if you plan on fucking up everything Stella just said,” Becca answered.

“I’ve done at least a dozen online events this year and at every single one, someone has asked me when the next Rebecca Moody novel is going to be released or they want to know what you’re working on. I’m not even entirely sure all of them are there to hear my Q&A or if they just showed up because they know I’m your dad and they think you might make a guest appearance. And if one person takes umbrage with you for creating something during a time of utter hell, fuck them.”

“Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable,” Stella quoted.

“That sounds so much hotter when you say it than George Bernard Shaw,” Hank replied, rubbing his hand across Stella’s upper back.

“Okay, I don’t want to spend this day being miserable,” Becca said, shaking her head and shoulders like she was trying to rid herself of negativity. “Thank you, Stella.”

“You’re welcome, darling girl.”

“Hey, what about me?” Hank asked.

“There is this jacket I saw online that I want,” Becca answered, cheekily raising one of her eyebrows and tilting her head.

“I’ll text you my credit card number later.”

“Thank you, Father.”

*****

Brunch was followed by a stroll in Central Park and it seemed that at least half of the city had the same idea. It was interesting being in a place so crowded and yet also so open. The decent weather and the cherry blossoms in full bloom probably had something to do with it. What also would have felt strange a year ago, seeing everyone wearing face masks and wearing them as well, was oddly comforting. When Stella had put hers on that morning before they walked out the door, Hank told her she looked like a sexy brain surgeon or cardiologist, whichever one was smarter or made more money.

When they came upon Bethesda Fountain, there was a small band playing salsa music and a few couples dancing. Hank tried to imitate the steps and then grabbed Becca’s hand and spun her around under his arm. She laughed and tried to break free of him, but he pulled her back in and tried to get her to dance.

“Da-ad,” Becca protested.

“Dance with me, Daughter.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You’re no fun.” Hank let go of Becca’s hand and then grabbed Stella’s.

“Oh, no,” she said.

“Come on, Sherlock. I know you’ve probably got some moves I’ve never seen.”

“I assure you that’s not true,” she answered, letting him spin her away though and then laughed as he gyrated his hips dramatically as he stepped back towards her. “Whatever it is that you’re doing does not resemble the salsa in any way.”

“Let me see you do better.”

Stella looked past Hank to the other dancers and mimicked the forward and back steps. She put a hand on Hank’s chest to keep him at arm’s length and prevent their knees from colliding as he tried to fall into the same step with her, moving forward when she stepped back, and back when she stepped forward. What he lacked in grace, he made up for with enthusiasm. As soon as they fell into sync, he grabbed her hand and lifted her other arm in a more formal dance frame like the other dancers had.

What followed was probably the worst and most amateurish version of a salsa that had ever been danced, but Stella laughed so hard it brought tears to her eyes. When the music ended, Hank stopped and pulled Stella’s face mask down under her chin before lowering his own and then kissing her through both of their laughter.

The dancing couples broke apart and drifted back into the crowd. Becca went over and dropped some money into the cup on the ground in front of the band and thanked them for playing. Stella took Hank’s hand and then Becca linked her arm with Stella’s as they continued on.

Later that night, when Stella came out of the bathroom as she rubbed lotion into her hands and arms, she stopped at the foot of the bed and watched Hank read over the latest pages of his novel. When she was finished, she climbed onto the bed and walked over to Hank on her knees until she was straddling his lap. He threw his pages down, took his reading glasses off, and pulled her close with his hands on her ass.

“Thank you,” Stella said, as Hank kissed the side of her neck.

“For what?”

“This truly was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Your birthday’s not until Wednesday.”

“Perhaps next year we’ll even be able to invite Karen and Fish to town.”

“We’ll make The Trout christen that barbeque he forced on us.”

“It does look nice though.”

“It really does. You want your present now, or should I wait until Wednesday?”

“I might be interested in a preview,” she said, sliding her hand down his chest and then into his shorts. “A little peak at the package ahead of time.”

“You just assumed I was talking about fucking when I said I had something for you?”

“Weren’t you?”

Hank paused and then grinned. “Yeah, I was.”

The End

#i wrote this #hanella #hank/stella #californication #thefall #The adventures of the lady detective and the writer lives on

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omegatheunknown · 3 years

Text

AEW ALL OUT 2021

In which, not to get ahead of myself here, AEW puts on one of the best major wrestling shows in several years*, following the simple yet effective principle of giving the people what they want and sending everyone home happy and hungry for more.

- The incredibly 'Nitro' ending of the go-home Dynamite, which ran a little long on the 'heels beat everyone up and strut around like assholes almost too in desperate need of comeuppance' bit, short of garbage raining into the ring, did actually increase the heat for both promoted matches. Again, not rocket science, but executed perfectly. Catharsis was on the card, and catharsis went over several times Sunday. - Again, it's time to move on from the Casino theme, shuffling the deck and drawing suits really only detracted from the Battle Royale and seemingly always throws the production crew a curve. If they haven't hammered it by now, it's not going to happen. - Bit unhappy about the PAC/Andrade situation, but still over the moon with Andrade's promo style and Chavito being unhelpful at best.

*Pre-Card

Best Friends and Jurassic Express v The Hardy Family Office and The Hybrid 2 (**) - Not usually much to say about a loaded-up multiteam boondoggle, particularly when the show has yet to begin, but there were some moments worth sitting up to take notice -- there's a lot of talent in the ring, even if Jack Evans/Angelico aren't going to be more than mid-level mooks, little matchups with guys like Luchasaurus and Chuck Taylor are opportunities for innovative/weird spots. - Really this match exists to show-off Jungle Boy, play his theme song twice, and work him in to the aforementioned spots. I don't rightly know what Jungle Jack's ceiling is, but it sort of feels like he's plateauing, at least this version of himself. - Dan Lambert thing is interesting in that it doesn't seem to easily lead to something obvious... I mean who are Scorp and Ethan Page feuding with by proxy here, the concept of contemporary professional wrestling? Orange Cassidy and Kenny Omega?

*Main Card

Miro (C) v Eddie Kingston for the TNT Championship (***1/2) - 'Redeem Deez Nuts' T-shirts now available -- and made immediately redundant now that Miro has graciously redeemed Eddie's nuts. - Imagine looking at Miro, listening to Miro talk, and not really being able to figure out this guy is money. Also imagine panicking when he took a little while to find his groove in AEW. 'The Redeemer' is both entertaining and terrifying, and this match delivered heavily on the promise of two big fellas smacking together repeatedly. - Not only does Eddie's arsenal of power moves target Miro's neck, he may also be quite difficult to put in the full reclined camel clutch. Or he'd quite literally snap in half. It didn't come to that. - Weird heel turn by Bryce's attention span and the overall weirdness of the finish is all that kept this from being an excellent match, otherwise this was a tremendous curtain jerker and started off a dangerously fun run of pure adrenaline.

Jon Moxley v Satoshi Kojima (****) - The stakes were nebulous, the build was abrupt, yet this was a fantastic match and tremendous showcase for an underappreciated great who has been more or less just toiling for a bunch of years as a NJPW Dad. Same deal for Nagata, and I assume Tenzan is the same, Taka Michinoku even -- let's see it. - I have to assume the Cozy Lariat might have put Mox down, but Kojima otherwise played the hits (Koji Cutter, Piledriver, Brainbustaaaa) in a big way and Moxley once again proved he's become a very well-rounded wrestler who can match the intensity of just about any former IWGP champion. - More to the point-- KAZE NI NARE -- out of nowhere, too. Or out of nowhere to those not paying attention to the whereabouts of Minoru Suzuki (Right, he's just over here to fight Daniel Garcia and not Mox?), which I guess is to my own peril. Wow, though. Surprise Number 1- a complete surprise, and a welcome one. Let's have it.

Dr Britt Baker, DMD (C) v Kris Statlander for the AEW Women's Championship (****) - I love Kris and her best friends but she didn't have a prayer of dethroning Britt. She got one promo, several weeks ago, and though she did make a meal of Hayter and Rebel, the chase has been abrupt and not given much discussion, other than Mark Henry and whomever else acknowledging what is extremely evident -- Statlander is stronger than she looks, and she looks really strong. They've got her doing Cesaro-level 'modify your grip while holding your opponent's entire weight' nonsense, and it's amazing and scary. - Even with the reign of the good doctor not being credibly threatened, this was an excellent match that demonstrated the continued growth of the competitors in the women's division, even as it underlined that their storylines remain undercooked and perfunctory: Orange Cassidy whipping off his shades to urge Stat to get up was a beautiful moment. Britt's Panama Sunrise, also, too sweet. Statlander eating shit on her 451 and her pendulum moonsault was properly brutal, as were Britt's curb stomps. Really great match between these two. - Again, if they had bothered to write anything into this story, such as Kris' alien physiology making her immune to the lockjaw or something... actually, maybe that's a terrible idea. it's an idea. Undefeated challenger is defeated, on to the next for Dr Britt. Statlander and OC should tag against some of the boys.

The Young Bucks (C) v The Lucha Bros for the AEW World Tag Team Championship(*****+) - Can't not mention the insane entrance lined up for Fenix and Penta. It was bewildering, it was enchanting, it was aggressive, it was hype. It also reminded everybody how very badly we all wanted the Lucha Bros to win. The crowd has been setting new peaks with their volume since Punk showed up, but things were absolutely thunderous and ecstatic at the end of this match. Absolutely valid response. I yelled on the couch. - Nick's facial hair was a bigger tell that it was time for the Bucks to lose than anything else about this build. There's literally nowhere to go from there -- they've done the hair, the bandanas, the kicks, the animal print, the dangly earrings -- peak visual heel for this time and place. - Sincerely thought this was going to be too much of a full sprint spot-fest (the PWG-esque circle of trading blows is not really 'my thing') but even so they kept finding gears, and ramping and ramping and adding blood and brutality along the way. Even a bit of levity, with the tacked up sneaker, followed by the sincerity of Penta throwing himself in harm's way to protect his brother. Immense match, I think you'd have to go back to the Bucks vs the Addiction and MCMGs Ladder War to find a more thrilling tag team gimmick match. - If there's a single flaw to be found it's in the production not really settling on wide angles for simultaneous action at the start of the match. They figured it out. - Rey Fenix is the best luchador in the world.

Women's Casino Battle Royale (**1/2) - If nothing else, this really shows off that they now have a surplus of women's wrestlers who deserve time to hang in the ring. Unsurprisingly, the match picked right up when Thunder Rosa and then Jamie Hayter got to the ring, with additional props to Tay Conti and Jade Cargill, who was dumped rather unceremoniously given her general booking... - Okay, there was something else. Welcome to the rechristened Ruby Soho, who I've not seen a lot of outside of her extremely limited showcase in WWE, but she has so many friends in the back and in the industry and that's never for nothing, not in wrestling, anyway. Intrigued to see where she fits, and if the women ever get more than a match per show. - Touched on this in the preamble but this was the roughest part of the night for the home viewer, just weird decisions on cutting away from various entrances to show... nothing in particular happening. Also while the commitment to not-kayfabing the countdown clock is... admirable? It makes the pacing hinky. - Almost everyone who got new gear for tonight was looking like the white ranger -- Nyla, Swole, Bunny, someone I'm missing. Except Anna Jay, whose stars and glitter gear looked great.

MJF v Chris Jericho for the fate of Jericho's in-ring career (***) - MJF's unauthorized homage to Y2J's entrance: good. Fozzy's guitarist going off tempo with the instrumental Judas: weak, and would've been sad if this were the end for Jericho. Especially as the build has felt... muted, somehow. - Props to the commentary for continuing to feed the red herring of 'in AEW,' as a caveat to stipulation, it did feel like... a remote possibility that MJF would win. - Credit to Aubrey for calling this one down the middle and not putting the fix in for her friend Jericho, and I guess the Dusty finish will give MJF plenty to gripe about. - MJF wrestles with a pure heel style, holds, chops, blocks, and Jericho is fifty years old, so the level of wrestling on exhibition in these matches is well beside the point. It was solid to good, and I was fighting burn out from the first half of the card's level of excitement.

CM Punk v Darby Allin (***1/2) - There are a couple benefits of Darby as a dance partner, and it's certainly better than having to watch Punk return against like, QT Marshall or Shawn Spears. Darby does make everyone look slow, but he can also be tossed around, and this raises his profile even in defeat, obviously. That said, the stakes here are... meta, at best, in that we want to see the man look good and justify the hype. It's a weird thing to root for. He certainly does look good. (Tights? Tights!) - It's fun to theorize about actually booking an angle where Punk is rusty and needs to regain his prowess, and maybe he'll stumble, but maybe the most we get out of that angle is hitting the GTS a little close to the ropes so Darby falls right out of the ring, in what was, for me, the spot that justified this whole match. - Sting's proud step-dad aura is still a hell of a thing, I really liked the end of the match kudos all around. - Match was good, hard to hang my emotions on. I wasn't watching WWE when Punk was in WWE. Definitely feeding off the excitement of others a bit here, and he sure can talk. I'd like to see him cultivate a stable, certainly.

Paul Wight v QT Marshall (n/r) - ...popcorn match? QT Marshall is like the anti-Daniel Garcia in that while his prominence and presence is just as inexplicable, I don't want it to continue, and he doesn't justify it in the process. - Match was two minutes longer than it needed to be.

Kenny Omega (c) v Christian Cage for the AEW World Championship (****1/2) - Crowd was both burnt out and more or less waiting for the post-match angle. Which I get. it's hard to cruise to the main event and having seen all the different things we've already seen on this card, even a singular performer like Kenny Omega and a legend with whom he (surprisingly? fittingly?) has superb chemistry with in Christian Cage were up against it to deliver something memorable. - Context dependent, I can definitely see rating this below their Rampage match, especially since... I mean Christian isn't winning the AEW title off Kenny at this or probably any other event. - But! It was really good! It was very good! They really do match-up well, and Kenny's v-trigger has rarely looked more devastating than when it knocks Christian flat. Christian got cut open in a novel and initially worrying way, and Kenny followed up a botched moonsault with a harder version of the same move off a rail, but it was a really great match and it deserved more energy than was available.

Post-Show - Calling back and inverting the end of Dynamite, The Elite strut about the ring, slightly less stoked than they were on Wednesday, but with the Bucks smiling through the pain, and Jungle Boy once again subjected to violence for his misguided heroism, Kenny 'not much a promo' Omega lays down a killer line about nobody being fit to challenge him who isn't unavailable, already tired or dead. - The Undertaker ADAM COLE, BAY BAY as Surprise #3 was a minor stroke of brilliance, and a fun swerve because while it's exciting to see him, his appearance at this point in the narrative does nothing to solve the problem of The Elite beating up Christian and Jungle Boy. Unless he's still sore about his unsolved murder, which he isn't. Storytime with Adam Cole is back and it's beautiful. Also Jungle Boy died for this. - Okay. But. Just. Okay. CM Punk and Bryan Danielson are All Elite. They will hopefully tag together. Bryan will head to NJPW, almost definitely. Minoru Suzuki just walked in and started slugging on Mox. The Forbidden Door is wide open. Will Kenny Omega one day return to Wrestle Kingdom? There are so many possibilities and they are all very exciting. This was a phenomenal show and it didn't have Hangman Page, Cody Rhodes, FTR, Santana and Ortiz, PAC, Andrade, Sammy Guevara, Team Taz, and the rest.

- Wrestling is good, actually. Imagine watching like five hours of wrestling and loving wrestling at the end of it.

*What competes- WK11, Dominion 2018, 2019, DoN 2019, 2021.. All-In, probably. Wrestlemania 30. A few Takeovers. Kris Wolf's retirement show...

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

pirate king (73) || atz

You sink.

The impact from the waves knocks all air from your lungs, and then you’re enveloped by the cold, wandering fingers locking around your ankles, dragging you beneath the surface. You try to move, dazed, reaching for the little sunlight that manages to pierce the waves, but the warmth doesn’t reach you in the least.

Your lungs start fighting for air, heart fluttering wildly like the wings of a desperate bird in its dying throes. You open your mouth to breathe, but only water enters your lungs and the world around you spins, shades of black and blue and then nothing.

It’s silent.

Lonely.

You’re going to die alone.

This is the end, you think, hopelessly. There’s no pain, no sadness, and the cold of the sea feels nothing more than a comforting embrace you’re returning to. You’ll die here, a speck in the infinite ocean, just like you were always supposed to. It was foolish of you to try and go against the way of nature.

Vaguely aware of the fact that you’re still sinking, your eyes close, and uncontrolled streaks of colour flash behind your eyelids. The silence is suddenly drowned out by noise, and you strain your ears to hear the sounds more clearly.

“Chin Hae!”

The voice is urgent, laced with desperation, familiar. Who’s that? You wonder dazedly to yourself, sinking deeper and deeper into the blessed warmth. Who are they calling for?

“Wake up! Fight!” The voice resounds in your ears, a begging plea, but you shake your head, unwilling. What’s so bad about the situation you’re in right now? You’re just tired... and you want some rest. You’ll just close your eyes for a while longer... and then...

“Choi Chin Hae! You can’t die! You promised me!”

Something hard and cold presses into your hand, sharp grooves digging into the skin of your palm, a painful memory. Your promise?

Promises.

You’ve made so many of them.

You must keep your promises, even if you have to move the entire ocean to do it.

Your fingers tighten around the cold steel in your palm. There’s a tug in your chest, like there’s a rope tied to your heart and someone is yanking at the other end. It aches, but you remember now.

I promised.

And the sea explodes.

>>>

Hongjoong doesn’t know how long he’s been screaming.

He can’t seem to breathe. The world seems to move in slow motion, tiny cogs turning at a sedately pace, the ripples on the ocean surface swallowed up by the waves. His legs carry him forward, nearly throwing himself over the side of the ship, but something yanks him back.

That man is saying something, a small part of his mind registers, but he can’t find it in him to care. His throat is raw with agony, but he can’t feel it. All he sees is the surface of the ocean, and what he knows lies beneath it, out of his reach.

You.

He’d failed. He’d broken his promise to you, to his crew. He’d watched one of his family get thrown into the waves helplessly.

And he had done nothing.

You’re gone.

Something in him snaps.

“Captain, the sky!” One of the ship’s crew screams, and the quartermaster looks up in surprise. His surprise turns into shock, then into horror. Previously a shade of summer blue without a cloud in sight, he sees dark grey rolling in from as far as his eye can see, so thick that it blocks out the sun. Day turns to night, and the air hums, dropping in temperature and the smell of ozone rends the sky itself.

The quartermaster spins around in shock to stare at the captain who’s on his knees, still looking over the ocean even as the winds pick up into a roaring gale, whirling over them. The ship lists to one side, before another tempest pulls it in another direction, and the sky splits to let the rain fall.

It falls - no, it crashes - onto the deck and the crew scramble to bail water before the ship goes under. The waves heave over the deck and a man screams as he’s swept over the side, gone the second he hits the waves. The mast creaks under the force of the wind, groaning in pain, before the entire thing snaps in the middle and the thick pillar of wood falls into the sea as well.

“The sea goddess is angry!” Someone howls in fear from the crew. “Captain, what do we-”

Another wave washes over the ship, and when it subsides in frothing white foam, the man is gone, like he was never there to begin with. The quartermaster whirls to demand what is going on from the captain, but all he catches sight of is a length of short rope between the man’s fingers.

His one green eye flickers up wildly to stare at him, bloodied lips curled into a maniacal grin.

“I’ll have you pay with everything you have.”

With a tug of his fingers, the knot falls apart.

In an instant, the winds scream and the sky splits in half in a massive flash of light. The deck rolls beneath their feet, and the foaming sea heaves, causing the ship to plunge on the trough of a massive wave. Rain lashes against the crew’s faces, before they look up and realise - no, that’s not the rain.

The crest of the wave is twice as tall as their remaining mast, black water standing proud and tall, defying gravity... and it’s coming straight towards them, an unstoppable force of nature.

The wave crashes down on them, and the entire ship splinters like nothing more than matchwood.

>>>

There’s something warm and gentle pressing against your lips.

You wake up coughing and choking.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Chin Hae! Breathe slowly.” A pair of arms come up to support you as you hunch over, panting and choking shallowly, water dripping from your nose and mouth. You want to open your mouth and ask what happened, but the second you try to say something your throat screams in protest, and you turn to the side, violently gagging on nothing.

“Take it easy.” A gentle hand runs up your back to soothe you and you lean into his grasp, every bone in your body suddenly too heavy for you to hold up with your own strength. What on earth happened? You try to ask, but all that comes out is a painful, choked wheeze.

Something hard digging into the skin of your palm gives you pause.

“The key...” You manage to say weakly, raising your hand to see the little piece of steel trapped between your fingers. Wooyoung’s key. It’s here. “I’m... glad...”

A pair of hands grab you sharply by the collar, and you gasp at the sight of your captain hovering over you, his one green eye brimming over with fury and something inexplicable. Oh, you realise after a moment... he’s lost his eyepatch.

“You almost died!” Your captain practically screams at you, hands balled in the fist of your shirt. It doesn’t take you long to realise that he’s trembling, knuckles bleeding bone white. “After all of that, you’re still worrying about a stupid piece of metal? Worry about yourself first, you fool!”

He says that, you think dazedly to yourself, but he’s the one who’s crying.

Without thinking, you reach out a hand to wipe the tears falling from his one eye. To your horror, that only makes your captain sob harder, twisting away from you to bury his face in your shoulder. Warmth pools there, and you wrap your arms around him to pull him close.

He’s warm.

Alive.

You both are.

“You’re alive.” Hongjoong barely manages to say, shaking his head, words muffled against your dripping clothes. “Fuck, when that man threw you into the sea, I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“I’m alive.” You repeat after him, testing out the words on your tongue. You can barely believe it yourself. You’re alive.

But how?

You must have said the words aloud, because Hongjoong pulls away from you, absentmindedly stretching out the wrinkles on your damp shirt.

“I don’t really know what happened,” Hongjoong admits, before he sits back on his haunches to look at you seriously. “All I remember was seeing you thrown into the sea and I got so angry, I used the last knot on my rope.”

Your mouth falls open in indignant fury and you smack your captain on the shoulder hard. He winces. “Captain, are you crazy? We’re in the middle of the sea! You could have died!”

He shakes his head with a wry smile that doesn’t match the severity of the situation, glancing down at the short length of unraveled rope in his hand. “Well, we didn’t. We should have, that was by far the biggest storm I’ve ever seen in my life, but what matters is that we’re both alive. I somehow clung to this raft the entire time, and when I came to, I found you floating a few feet from me.”

“Sounds like some sort of miracle.” You mutter, before you let out a cough and a sneeze. Even under the midday sun, you’re freezing, toes blued and fingers trembling. Hongjoong scoffs, nodding his head. “Maybe the sea goddess saved us, although I have no idea how we’re going to survive out at sea like this.” He glances over at you, mouth softening in concern. “Well, let’s take care of what’s in front of us right now. Are you cold?”

You nod your head, trying not to shiver too hard. You did nearly drown, after all. “Yeah,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself, “but there’s nothing much we can do about it. I’ll be fine when the sun dries my clothes.”

“Here.” You look up in surprise to see Hongjoong shifting about on the small raft, pressing close against you. His arms wrap around you suddenly and you yelp in surprise when he tugs you close into his hold. He practically radiates heat, you think, leaning into his warmth before you can think about social propriety. “Thank you, Chin Hae. Thank you so much for staying alive.”

You too, you want to say, but it’s as if exhaustion has finally caught up with you. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you rest your head against his shoulder. You’ll face your other problems later, but right now, you’re just tired.

He’s warm, you repeat to yourself. He’s warm and you’re both alive.

And that’s enough for you for now.

As you slip into a deep slumber, you don’t notice the red marks around your ankles left the weight of the chains and the anchor, the skin there slowly starting to flake off, drifting like tiny pieces of matchwood in the puddles left on the raft.

>>>

“She agreed, but the sea witch warned her that if she did not fall in love with a man before her legs crumbled into soil, she would return to seafoam as she did not belong on land and from there on would cease to exist.”

- The Little Mermaid, author unknown

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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svnflowervol666 · 4 years

Text

Luna de Amor (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex

Author’s Note: A reupload as my original post did not make it to the tags. This is the first time I’ve ever posted a full smut scene on this blog, so, go me! Based on this ask. Smut usually takes me a while longer than other pieces, mostly due to the fact that I like my smut to be as thorough as possible, meaning I have to triple check everything about seven times. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Requests are still open, so send me whatever you’d like to see next, NSFW or otherwise! Take care and tpwk.

Before Y/N came along, there were many ways in which Harry would conquer the restlessness that crept up on him in the middle of the night. He would go for a run on the nearly desolate city streets, he would hunker down in his home studio and work on his latest song, he would read a few chapters in his current favorite french novel. There were dozens of outlets Harry had familiarized himself with to utilize for when the time came in which he just couldn’t manage to fall asleep despite knowing that he should. He was older now and staying up all night like he would as a teenager just wasn’t good for him in any capacity anymore.

All of these outlets, but they suddenly went out of the window when he met Y/N. She was unlike any other woman he had ever been with or even met before, but he supposed that’s how it always was when you were in love with someone. He swore he could stare at her features for forever, that she was more intoxicating than any substance or drink. But looking at her in the glimmering moonlight that shone through the cracked shades was not what put him to bed whenever that frustrating feeling of not being able to close his eyes and be at peace with himself came insidiously slithering into his head.

There something about the way her hair was mussed about her head like a halo around her pillow, or maybe it was the way that she was sleeping on her stomach so that the swell of her breast peaked through the comforter. Either way, Harry couldn’t help but feel his cock swelling in his boxers the longer he traced his eyes over the shape of her sleeping body next to his.

He slid his body over towards her, turning her and wrapping his arms around her body so that his front was flush with her backside. Warmth radiated from her sleeping form and Harry’s hands found their way to her breasts. Harry began kneading them softly in aim to draw her from her slumber, but the most he got from her was a shift in her bum on the mattress which caused Harry to hiss at the way she unknowingly ground herself against his cock.

His next attempt was to go for her neck. Harry always teased her for being so sensitive there but at the same time, there was nothing more that he loved than feeling her turn to putty in his hands when his lips roamed about the column of her throat. He started nipping at her skin with his lips, just barely meeting his skin with hers. Goosebumps raised in response to his touches as his kisses grew sloppier and sloppier. It was when he’d hit her sweet spot with his tongue that he heard the sound he’d been searching for. Harry swears he’s never heard anything more heavenly in his entire life, that soft, half-groan half-moan that fell from her parted lips. It brought his neediness to the forefront.

“Baby,” Harry grumbled against the crook of her neck, tickling her with his outgrown stubble.

Amidst her hazy state she was able to hum back at him, though it sounded once more like a broken moan.

“Need ya t’ wake up,” he hoarsely whispered as he began working himself against her backside, slowly but surely rutting his hips into the skin of her bum to ease some of the tension that had built up in his cock.

He couldn’t see the way the corners of her lips turned up knowingly. She was no stranger to this Harry, the Harry that woke her in the middle of the night with an itch that he just couldn’t seem to scratch on his own. It was almost comical to her, the way that he’d do just about everything in the book besides coming right out and tell her that he was horny that he wanted a shag. Sometimes, she’d tease him and pretend to be asleep longer than she actually was before turning over and giving him what he wanted, but not tonight. Unbeknownst to Harry, he had stirred her from quite the dream, so there was no need to dance around the ledge this time.

With a sigh, she resituated herself in the bed, turning in Harry’s arms so that their faces sat mere inches from each other.

“Hi,” she sang through her sleep-ridden voice.

“Hi,” Harry repeated back to her in the same groggy tone.

“Need some help?” she quirked her brow and gestured downwards to the tent in his boxers.

“Maybe,” he answered with a sleepy chuckle.

She knocked him on his back so that she was straddling his waist and sitting on his painfully hard cock. He hissed at the commotion, but the feeling soon turned to euphoria when her hands snuck into the waistband of his boxers and she took his length in her fingers. It felt heavy in her grip as she smeared the silky beads of precum along his tip, coating him in preparation to make home within her tight, warm walls.

“I was dreamin’ about you,” she spoke lowly as she gently twisted her wrist around his cock, revelling in the way Harry’s brows were furrowing together in response to her touch.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “We were kinda like how we are now. But this is much better,” she finished with a tantilizing pump of her hand.

Harry’s hips jutted into her fist, wanting more than just her teasing touches. It almost made her laugh aloud, how needy he could be in the middle of the night like this. She wanted him just as much, only due to her still-drowsy state, she was able to control it.

She leaned down and laid her body flush with Harry’s as she kissed him for the first time since he’d woken her up. They tasted of the remnants of their minty toothpaste but mostly of morning breath, but that was the furthest thing from their minds. Harry held her close to him as his tongue slipped between her lips, aching to get her going as quickly as he could. His arms slid under the ratty t-shirt of his that she slept in so that he could lift it off of her frame, breaking the kiss for only a fraction of a second.

Once her chest was free of clothing, Harry ran his hands along the sides of her breasts and spine, chilling her skin with the metal of his many rings. He ducked his head down to kiss the center of her chest and then outwards to her wrap his plump lips around her erect nipples. Those velvety smooth sighs of hers turned into the moans that Harry adored oh-so dearly, and she began to feel the wetness from her core start to pool at the front of her panties. One of her hands was still lost in his untameable curls, but she was able to move the other down to grip his cock in her digits once more.

“Ye’ ready?” Harry asked, his hazy, hungry eyes peering up at her.

She nodded as she sank down slowly, splitting herself on top of him. Harry always swore that the way the wrinkle between her brows reared itself and her lips parted just slightly when she first felt his cock first enter her was by far his favorite face of hers. Well, his second favorite, apart from the face she made when she came, he supposed. He gripped onto her hips tightly as she lowered herself fully onto him, exhaling a sigh of relief when she made it all of the way down to the base of his cock.

They soon found their rhythm, her bouncing and rolling her hips against his while they chased their highs. Her early morning sensitivity caused her to melt in his arms with the way the tip of his cock was able to brush against all of her sweetest spots that made her eyes roll back into her head and a shiver run down her spine.

All that was heard in the otherwise silent room were sounds of wet skin meeting harshly each time she pushed herself back onto Harry. Their lips chased each other in between thrusts, eager to be as close to each other as they possibly could. Sweat pooled in the dip of her back and in the grooves of Harry’s stomach, the two of them yearning to reach the point to where they both saw stars.

Her bouncing soon turned to lazy, unmotivated rocking as she found herself almost physically unable of continuing. The tendons in her thighs were screaming for relief and the heat that surrounded her made her feel like she was trapped. She could feel herself right there, right on the brink of getting to where she needed to be, but she was frustrated beyond belief because knew she couldn’t get there alone.

“Harry,” she whine as she tugged on the ends of the chocolate curls on the nape of his neck.

He sensed her weariness, but he was waiting to see how long it would take her to beg for him to take control of the two of them.

“Ye’ gettin’ there?” he huffed in between each manual breath.

She raised her eyes from being buried in Harry’s neck to look at him.

“Please,” she moaned.

With one fluid motion, he had her flipped over onto her back and his cock plunged in her soaking cunt once more. She cried out at the new angle of Harry on top of her this time, watching his dainty, jade green cross necklace dangle inches away from her face.

“‘ve got ya, baby,” Harry muttered into her ear as he mouthed against her neck, “ye’ can let go.”

He continued to drill his cock into her heat, each time brushing against the spongey part of her walls that made her thighs shake and reflexively want to close. Harry caught wind of her trembling and forced her legs open with his one of his strong hands while the elbow of his other arm balanced his body on top of hers. Their stomachs brushed against each other with every thrust, only adding to the overwhelming sensations that they were both feeling.

“Ye’ so perfect. So good f’ me.”

Harry’s words of encouragement took her right back to where she was before, right at the brink of breaking. Her moans went up an octave and Harry could tell by the way she had started to clench around him that she wasn’t going to last much longer. He knew for certain that with the way that her cunt was so expertly gripping his cock that he wasn’t that far behind her.

“Ye’ gonna cum for me, lovie?”

She could barely make a sound, so she opted to grip Harry’s shoulders even harder than he was as her answer. This made Harry smile and only pushed him to fuck her harder, even deeper so his hips would certainly leave light purple bruises on hers come morning.

Her release sprung onto her quickly, so quickly that it caught Harry off guard and forced his own release out of him as well. His milky seed shot deep into her, painting her walls and filling her up so thoroughly that it seeped out from around his cock and onto the satin sheets. They both laid there for a moment, Harry laying his full weight on top of her while they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeats. She twiddled with the clasp of Harry’s necklace while he pecked at her sweat-slick breast with his lips.

Once they’d caught their breathe, Harry reluctantly pulled his cock from her cunt, making her wince as the sudden emptiness. He watched with a fascinated expression as his cum ran from her properly swollen center before reaching across the bed for the shirt he’d pulled off of her body a while back. With caring hands, Harry cleaned the two of them up, tossing the soiled garment somewhere off into the floor to be dealt with another time.

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled into her skin as he crawled back into the covers with her and pulled her into his arms once more.

“Anytime,” she laughed, still somewhat out of breath.

“But will you please go to sleep now? You have an interview in the morning and you only wake me up for sex when you can’t sleep so I’m assuming you’ve been awake this whole time,” she sounded like a parent talking to Harry, which he adored.

She felt Harry’s laugh reverberate off her chest and shake her body, to which he then promised her he’d be good and go to bed.

All of those outlets, taking walks and writing songs, but none of them compared to this one.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles

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lancearcherinrippedjeans · 3 years

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Eternity

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I know some of you are probably like "What happened to ICBTE bro?" It's in the fanfic cemetery never to be spoken of again <3

But WELCOME to the new multi part fic Eternity where we follow OC's Veronica Rodriguez, Sawyer Holden and Nova Jay throughout their AEW career

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Starring - Tony Khan, Kenny Omega, WARHORSE and of course, the OCs (also a small appearance from Madi Wrenkowski )

Word Count - 2,385

Category - Fluff, friendship, mentions of past romance

Part 1/?

Summary - Sawyer, Veronica and Nova wanted nothing more than to "make it". When they have a chance to main event with TK and Kenny Omega sitting front row, how will it go?

other author's notes - keep in mind, me and @adriii-omega wrote this in a day. there might be spelling mistakes, it might not make sense, trust the process <3 and YES a good portion of this is the ACTUAL match.

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“Yes Bullet Club is for life, but we’re Eternity.”

“Nova, Veronica, Sawyer you’re on in 10!” The producer yelled, knocking on the door of the dressing room. Though it wasn’t a dressing room, more like a closet. “We’ll be there in a second, damn!” Yelled Sawyer, trying to get her gear on in the tiny corner.

“It would be nice if they gave us an actual dressing room like the guys or something.” Veronica mumbled, pulling on her gear pants. Nova and Sawyer agreed. There could be thousands of dressing rooms, but they always got stuck in a janitor’s closet. “Could you imagine all three of us in our own private dressing rooms?” Nova fantasized as she tied her left boot.

The group of three had always had dreams, as small as a dressing room, to as big as being on the greatest stage of them all. But for now, a janitor’s closet, a couple bucks a night, and a high school gym would satisfy them.

“I got extra tips at the diner today so we can go out to eat after the show this time.” Sawyer announced, smiling towards Veronica, who had just told Sawyer about her craving for a milkshake earlier that day. “Oh thank God, the family I babysat for today only paid nine bucks for FIVE hours.” Nova complained, touching up her makeup.

“Nine?!” “Yeah, spoiled little white kids, AGAIN.”

Veronica and Sawyer chuckled, walking out the janitor’s closet, Nova following close behind.

The three friends had so much in common, but were so different. Like Sawyer for example, the tallest of the three and by far the smartest. She wasn’t afraid to take a bump in front of 10 people or 10,000. She would do whatever it took to make sure she ended up as one of the best professional wrestlers of all time.

Veronica, one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet. Most people would call her a submission specialist, but making someone tap was just all in a day's work for her. She’ll do anything to put on the most entertaining match anyone in the crowd has ever seen, even if it’s acting like she almost died.

Nova however, was definitely a person who was ready to put on a show, taunts, hyping up the crowd and “OMG” moments were her specialty. She has gotten injured doing those special moves, many times, but she always got back up and showed out to put on the best performance.

All three of them had a purpose and decided they would stick together to reach it.

The whole roster was fond of how close they were. Others envied their success on the independent scene - except one of their closest friends, Warhorse. He was going to be on Dynamite tomorrow` to challenge Cody for his TNT Championship, but tonight, he was at the show, watching the trio wrestle.

They were walking closer to the “stage”, when he stopped them. “You will not believe who’s here!” Sawyer groaned, “Jake you know I hate guessing games so can you jus-”

“Tony Khan and Kenny Omega.” Their jaws dropped. “THE owner and EVP OF AEW?” Nova questioned. Veronica’s palms started to get sweaty. “Why are they here? I don’t even want to be here; there is no way the ACTUAL Kenny Omega and Tony Khan are sitting in a high school gym.” She wiped her hands on her pants and crossed them over her chest. “You don’t believe me? Well you guys will see in about an hour or so.” Warhorse smirked.

“We’re going out now, dipshit.” Sawyer insulted. Nova and Veronica laughed, but Warhorse had more to say, “Didn’t you hear? You guys have been bumped to the main event since the rich guys are out there.”

Suddenly calm, cool and collected Sawyer had her jaw to the floor. “Sawyer?” Nova whispered, shaking her friend's shoulder. “I can’t fly high and be energetic for the last 30 minutes of the show! I’ll break something or pass out!”

Veronica giggled at her friend’s nonsense, “You’ll be fine. C’mon, let's go watch the matches.”

Nova, Veronica and Sawyer sat by a monitor, watching the last few matches before their main event match. They were enjoying some of the two newer wrestlers face off when a hand slammed down on a table. They looked up and saw Madi Wrenkowski, fuming.

“They CUT my match so you guys could have your dumb main event.”

Sawyer held back laughter while Veronica spoke up, “Well it’s not our fault, we didn’t find out till five minutes ag-” “You think you’ll be big cause of a few matches? No way. Just stick to the janitor’s closet.” Madi scoffed, storming off.

“A few 5 star matches to be fair!” Nova called out, receiving a high five from her friends. It had been like this for a while, Madi going off on how she was “better”, but mean girls were SO high school.

They all took a deep breath, knowing it was their time to main event.

When the three reached the gorilla position. They saw Warhorse standing by the curtain waiting for them. Everyone was pretty happy that they got the opportunity to perform for someone like Kenny Omega, but deep down inside Veronica, Sawyer, and Nova knew that they deserved to be in the main event spot a long time ago.

“You three are going to kill it.” Warhorse smiled at his friends. He wondered how cool it would be to see them all in AEW at one time. “Thanks Jake.” Nova said. Sawyer was standing at the curtain, waiting for her cue.

“Say, bitch, I don’t wanna talk.”

Realer by Megan Thee Stallion blasted off the gym walls. The couple hundred of fans there jumped out of their seats to show their love for Sawyer, though she wasn’t supposed to be having such a loud reaction. She walked down the entrance way stopping at a young child who had their hand out for a high five. Sawyer went over to make it seem like she was about to, but smoothly pushed her hair back instead- flipping off the parents as well. As she got in the ring she took a quick scan to look for Kenny and Tony. She spotted them front and center in the front row she gave a sly smirk and went to one of the corners of the ring.

“TOOONIGHTTTTT-“

Nova shot out of the curtain while 24K Magic by Bruno Mars played in the gym. The crowd was also feeling the song as they got up and grooved. Even Tony Khan was bobbing his head along. Nova walked down to the ring, pep in her step. She gave people in the crowd high fives and hugs. She entered the ring and tried to get Sawyer to dance along, but backed away when Sawyer stood over her, glaring and clenching her fists. She walked over to her corner, climbing up to the second turnbuckle, waving at the whole crowd.

“I fly with the stars in the skies…”

Veronica pushed her black shades on as she smoothly walked through the curtain as “Moment 4 Life” by Nick Minaj came on the speakers. It was a perfect song to describe how she felt as she took the audience in at the top of the ramp. Her swagger was untouched but when she stepped in front of Kenny Omega, she felt his eyes never leave her which made her confidence blast through the roof. She used the stairs to get in and leaned on the ropes and waved to the other people that were there.

The three stared each other down, “this is awesome” chants from the crowd already starting. The ref asked all of them if they were ready, then called for the bell to ring. They all circled around the ring, the crowd wondering who was gonna hit first. Nova started taunting the two, planning to get the crowd on her side early in the match.

Sawyer had enough and tackled Nova to the ground, throwing punches, keeping away from the head. Veronica pulled Sawyer off, Sawyer widened her eyes, Veronica irish whipped Sawyer into the ropes, clotheslining her as soon as she came back. Veronica turned at the crowd, cheering along with them, not paying attention that Sawyer just did a kip-up behind her.

Veronica turned around just to be met with a kick to the face. Veronica turned around once, swaying side to side before falling to the ground, selling coming in clutch.

Nova came up from behind Sawyer, drop kicking her and making her fall to the mat. They planned to live to the phrase “fight forever”. Nova walked towards Veronica, dragging her up. Veronica started to gain her consciousness back, kicking Nova in the legs and Nova dodging as many as she could.

While they weren’t paying attention, Sawyer crawled towards the corner, climbing up the top rope, getting in position for a frog splash. It wasn’t till the crowd started screaming till Veronica and Nova looked towards the corner, Sawyer jumping off and crashing into both of them.

She stood up, hyping herself up, looking towards TK and Kenny, smirking.

*match skip*

Sawyer, Veronica, and Nova all struggled to get to their feet trying to use each other for balance. It had at least been 25 minutes of non stop action, and everyone was on the edge of their seat. Sawyer threw a punch in Veronica’s direction , but she attempted to counter it with an arm bar bringing her down to the mat. Nova saw the opportunity as she started to climb to one of the top turnbuckles. With Sawyer’s strength she manages to deliver a powerbomb to Veronica getting out of the arm bar. She crouched in the corner as Nova hit a devastating Macho Man like elbow drop.

1…

2…

But Sawyer broke up the pin by pulling Nova’s leg. Nova slapped Sawyer making Sawyer deliver a right hand back but harder, making her roll out the ring and on the apron. Veronica was slowly getting back up and Sawyer noticed as she charged towards her, making Veronica pull the top rope making her land on the outside. Veronica made her way to the apron where Nova was at; her back turned to Veronica not seeing her jump and wrap her legs around her neck for a reverse hurricanrana. With a loud thud, both of them rolled onto the floor in pain.

Sawyer crawled over , throwing Veronica in the ring and seeing Nova began to stir. Sawyer climbed to the top turnbuckle with her back turned to deliver a perfect moonsault, making the crowd gasp, and Tony and Kenny to stand up. Sawyer held her side, and rolled into the ring ready to finish the match. She stood in the ring, waiting for Veronica to get in position for her finishing move. Veronica stood and it was too late, and she tucked her chin ready for the impact of Sawyer’s devastating Canadian Destroyer.

1…

2…

Sawyer stood up, referee raising her arm in the air. She tried to bite back her smile but simply couldn’t. She watched as Veronica and Nova started to walk backstage, exiting the ring, breaking out of character as soon as she was behind the curtain.

Veronica, Nova and Sawyer started talking about the match, complimenting each other. “Excuse me ladies?” They looked over, and saw Tony Khan and Kenny Omega walking towards them. Nova spun around and almost caused Sawyer and Veronica to fall over. “Really impressive match out there. You know I didn’t think you guys would have met my expectations but I was way wrong.” Kenny admitted, and Tony agreed. “Yea , we would really love for you guys to come over to our company for a bit. Not on Dynamite yet, but some Dark matches maybe?” Tony suggested. They were beyond excited. Sawyer started imagining all of the memories she could create at AEW, and seeing some people she hadn’t seen in a while - until a certain person popped into her head. “I would love to wrestle for you guys, but does Wardlow know? Or is he even okay with this- “ Veronica gave Sawyer the death stare and Nova let out a laugh. “Wardlow? He’s the one that brought you guys up. He said you were all really talented, and since we’re looking for more women wrestlers you were the right people. Is there something going on between…” “NO.” Sawyer interrupted Tony.

“It’s complicated. I just wanted to make sure he was okay with working with me again.” Nova couldn’t believe Sawyer’s actions and it was making it extremely hard not to burst out of laughter on the spot. Veronica stood in between her friends listening closely to what Khan was saying. She felt eyes on her so she looked up and was met with Kenny’s soft stare. He smiled and looked away making her do the same.

“Yea, so tomorrow I was thinking you guys could get to Jacksonville and see Dynamite, then wrestle after the show?” Tony said. “That works fine with us.” Nova said, smiling wide

“Great!” Kenny said, smiling at Veronica. “Sawyer, Veronica?”

Sawyer and Veronica looked at each other, they could tell what they both were thinking just by the looks on their face. Veronica nodded, Sawyer spoke up, “Let’s do this.” “That’s great, the flight leaves at 11 tonight, so get there as fast as you can,” Tony said, looking at his phone, “Oh and Sawyer?”

Sawyer looked up, “Don’t interrupt me again.”

Nova couldn’t keep in her laughter anymore, not even when Veronica punched her arm and told her to shush. Tony and Kenny left the building, leaving the friends beaming and damn near tears. “Veronica and Kenny sitting in a tree!” Nova and Sawyer started to sing, making Veronica roll her eyes, “Yeah I’ll remember that when we see Wardlow tomorrow.”

Sawyer huffed. “But remember we promised if things ever ended up like this, we would stay together no matter what happens between any of us.” Nova brought up, talking about the promise they all made years before.

“Friends, no matter what.” They all said in unison, knowing in the back of their heads they would be friends for eternity.

thank you for reading! part 2 coming soon!

#tony khan #kenny omega #kenny omega x reader #kenny omega x oc #aew #aew fanfiction #aew x reader #all elite wrestling #warhorse #wardlow #wrestling fanfiction

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eurosong · 3 years

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Undo my ESC 2021 - Semi-final 1

Good afternoon, folks! Every year, I take a look at each semi-final and share what feasible change I would make – as small as changing a few lines of the song or an element of staging, or as big as a different song completely winning a national final – to make it even better (just in my own opinion of course!) This year will be harder than usual, but I’ll try to set aside my conviction that every 2020 artist should have been able to return to see how different SF1 might look. Let’s go!

🇱🇹 Lithuania: PiN was in the Roop's hands, and whilst I fell in love with some of the underdog songs they were up again, most notably Home and Never fall for you again I wouldn't take away the chance away from the Roop. There's nothing I'd change about Discoteque, and I love their nod to On fire, but the way that they also took things in a different direction to last time.

🇸🇮 Slovenia: I may be in a small minority, but I absolutely love Amen and I loved Voda too! Ana Soklič has so much presence and stunning vocals with so much texture and depth; she can sell me pretty much everything. My only change would be to insert Slovenian language lyrics!

🇷🇺 Russia: I was initially really disappointed that we wouldn't see the iconic Little Big on the ESC stage - but I commend the way they wanted to share the limelight with other artists. The unexpected Russian mini-NF ended up being a revelation and very diverse for its size. I liked all three songs, but I think that the best hands down won. There is nothing I have to change to Russian woman, one of the most powerful propositions of the season for me. I just hope juries will value it and we won't see a Telemóveis style situation!

🇸🇪 Sweden: After a year of being happy with the result in Sweden - I was always in Dotter's corner, but who can't love the Mamas? - we return to more familiar terrain of an MF result disgruntling me. Tusse has charisma and talent, but his song is lacklustre at best for me. My fav was, once again, Dotter, and I wish that either she'd taken the win or that the Mamas got their shot at ESC as main artists.

🇦🇺 Australia: I really enjoy Technicolour, one of the more out-of-left-field entries from Oz. I am so intrigued as to what the Diane Warren song offered to Montaigne was like, as I'm certain that this isn't it, but I'm glad she trusted her gut and went for something so distinctive. My one change would be to get rid of the unnecessary key change at the end.

🇲🇰 Macedonia: When there was a nationalistic furore with attempts to stop Vasil from representing MK, I was entirely on his side even though his song for me is one of the least appealing of the edition. I'd still want him to get his chance at ESC - but his Sudbina would have been such a more compelling entry for my taste.

🇮🇪 Ireland: Lesley Roy served nostalgic pop wonderment for the second year in a row, and another song that has etched itself already onto my life's soundtrack. I don't know what I'd change, except perhaps translate one of the choruses into Irish Gaelic - it'd make the message of a return to home even more resonant for me.

🇨🇾 Cyprus: Cyprus and I haven't seen eye to eye for several years now, and it's a shame as they were one of my favourite countries of the 90s. I do enjoy El diablo more than their last trio of songs, but I find it leans too heavy on a clear inspiration from Gaga, which takes away from some of the more original elements of the song. So, I'd rework the chorus, and also change some of the lyrics elsewhere because some lines just flat out make me cringe.

🇳🇴 Norway: I seem to have been in the minority of people delighted at MGP's final results! I had bigger favourites - the rambunctious sea shanty that is Vi er Norge, the kickass empowering Witch woods or the pulsating groove of Playing with fire - but I wouldn't take Tix' win away from him given how meaningful it was for him and what the guy has been through. My change? Revert partially or entirely to the Norwegian version, Ut av mørket; for me, it hits my heart harder.

🇭🇷 Croatia: Sincerely, my biggest disappointment of the NF season potentially - I wish Damir had been internally selected, not just because of my wish to see all ESC'20 alumni return, but because his was the best Croatian song for me since Moja štikla. Tick-tock is harmless but if we can't get a Damir return in this hypothesis, then I'd go for Rijeka, which captivated me with its epicness on first listen and has just risen in my estimation since. Though, given Nina's histrionics after coming second, maybe I'd have Albina perform the song instead.

🇧🇪 Belgium: I was prepared to not be on board with Belgium this year despite my long-lived love for the country - I found Release me, whilst orchestrated beautifully, entirely lacking in dynamism; and I really couldn't stand the way the band dumped Luka unceremoniously. And yet... this lush piece of art is one of my favs of the entire season. And there's something different and singular in Geike's voice. So the only thing I'm changing here are the dudes' attitudes to ESC so that they can value it more, especially Alex.

🇮🇱 Israël: As one of the most naturally charismatic performers of 2020, I had high hopes for Eden's return and the original idea of a mega-NF for her seemed really promising. Instead, we ended up with an uninspired strewing of songs, of which the best didn't even get the chance to be recorded by her. Set me free was my favourite of the three that got to the final, but I feel they've really worsened it with the revamp, in between the hail mary pass of the whistle vote and the extra emphasis on "I'mma". I would have Eden perform Shoulders instead - I don't know how it NQd and think it would allow her to showcase her personality a lot more.

🇷🇴 Romania: I really enjoyed Roxen's selection last year - small but quite diverse, and I felt the best song won. My change would be to have seen a similar national final with 3 or 4 other songs of hers this time, because I'm not convinced in Amnesia anywhere near as much as I was of Alcohol you.

🇦🇿 Azerbaijan: I wish they had gone with something at least a bit different rather than this cut, smudge and paste from last year that is so on the nose with its "you loved Cleopatra, so you will love this, won't you?" feel that it even namechecks the previous song. Efendi has a lot of talent and could have shown more diversity here.

🇺🇦 Ukraine: I'm getting used to the surprise revamp of Šum by now, but the question still remains for me, why did they do it? They needed to cut about a minute off the duration of the track, but to me, that doesn't explain why they also had to change the melody in large parts of the song. I'd be tempted to revert to a shortened form version of Šum version 1.

🇲🇹 Malta: Another unpopular opinion, but I'm just not that into the Maltese song this year. The lyrics are great and Destiny has poise and presence and PIPES and I'm sure she'll do well, but the style - a glammed up Electro-Velvet, essentially - doesn't heat me up, and I feel like the different parts of the composition are too dissonant from each other, like we have 2 or 3 songs in one here. My change would be for her to have gone with something more soul-ish in its sound, like AOML was.

And the AQs of this semi

🇩🇪 Germany: How did juries decide upon this, especially when there seems to have been many promising artists in the German selection? No shade against Jendrick who seems like a lovely chap, but the song sounds like the cheerful four chords on a ukulele you hear repeated as royalty free background music on Youtube tutorials, merged with a post-chorus breakdown taken from a Stefan Raab b-side. I would have gotten out my phone book and given Lilly among clouds a call - she gives me the vibes of being able to create something totally show-stopping.

🇳🇱 Netherlands: My original slight disappointment at this was more because of how high I have Grow than any fault of its own. It's another gorgeous composition from Jeangu, with probably the best set of lyrics of the year, and this is going to be a moment. I change nothing.

🇮🇹 Italy: I like Måneskin and their performances at Sanremo were brilliant - but they were far from being at the top of my favourites list. I would have given the win to Madame with Voce, or Ermal with Un milione di cose da dirti. Both would have been my #1 of the entire year, both move me deeply. Madame showcases contemporary Italian style with classic songwriting, whilst Ermal almost created a companion piece to Fai rumore - Diodato wanted to hear the sound of his loved one, whilst Ermal struggles to make a noise and say what he feels about his love.

Join me soon as I take a look at SF2 and its songs (and France, Spain and the UK, the auto-qualifiers from that semi!)

#eurovision 2021 #esc #eurovision #eurovison song contest #opinion #esc 2021

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crownjimin · 3 years

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094 | soora date, part two.

la vie en rose ━ in which lee aera, a girl who has been crushing on choi soobin for a long, long time, is starting her junior year and her friends decide that its time for her to make her move.

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“Eomma, it’s already one-thirty-three, and I told Sooyung I’d be here by one-thirty,” Aera nagged as her mother pulled into the park parking lot. “We’re late!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Dongmin urged, quickly parking the car and following Aera who scrambled from the vehicle and practically ran to the park entrance.

“Ae, you’re forgetting the fruit,” Dongmin called out, reaching into the backseat for the fruit bowl Aera insisted on bringing and grabbing it. Aera was long gone at that point, dashing down the pathway into the park, leaving Dongmin on the sidewalk.

Aera hated being late, it made her so anxious to arrive anywhere late because she felt like that reflected negatively on her personality. She didn’t want to be known as someone who was late everywhere they went, but today she just couldn’t help it. Even though Sooyung had told Aera that she didn’t need to bring anything to the picnic, showing up empty handed was not something Aera felt comfortable doing. So she convinced her mother that they needed to go pick up a fruit bowl from the store, one that was pre-packaged and pre-cut so they could just grab it and go.

But the first store they went to ended up being out of fruit bowls, and the second didn’t have any with pineapples, but luckily, they were successful at the third store, but that also meant that now they were running behind schedule.

Once they pulled up to the park, Aera had texted Sooyung telling her that she had finally arrived, to which Sooyung responded that she would meet Aera at the entrance.

When Aera had begun down the path, Sooyung was nowhere in sight, but as she jogged further down the path, Sooyung finally came into view—jogging as well. Once Sooyung saw Aera, she stopped where she stood and let Aera come to her.

“Yungie,” Aera cheered, pulling Sooyung into a hug.

“Ae Ae,” Sooyung responded with the same tone, wrapping her arms around Aera and squeezing. “You wore the overall dress.”

Aera nodded, patting down the front of the denim before pulling the ends of her long-sleeved shirt into the palm of her hands. “And I put on sleeves!”

“And it’s purple,” Sooyung noted. “You look cute.”

“Thank you, thank you. Where are JiJi and Haeunie?”

“Oh,” Sooyung brightened up at the mention of Jiah and Haeun. “They’re already where we set up the picnic. Uh, I have to go get something though, so just keep walking down the path and you should see them.”

Sooyung started to walk away from Aera, heading in the direction that Aera just came from as Aera looked down that path. “That way?”

“Yeah, just go,” Sooyung slightly pushed Aera by the small of her back. “I’ll be back.”

And with that, Aera turned away and began down the path. The sound of her Converse hitting the pavement, making little clicks as she walked, her attention mostly on the trees and sky, and not focusing on where she was walking. Many people were playing with their dogs, some playing fetch and others just rolling around in the grass, which caused Aera to smile and feel giddy at seeing other people so happy.

The temperature wasn’t too cold, with the sun being out and shining it’s brightest, which seemed to give off a bearable heat. Aera continued down the path, no Jiah in sight as she continued walking further and further, straight in the direction that Sooyung urged her in.

But a few moments later, a glint of pink came into Aera’s sight, and she was greeted with the sight of Jiah sitting down on a bench. For a moment, Aera thought it was weird since Sooyung had said that Jiah and Haeun were already at the picnic, but the minute she caught Jiah’s attention her suspicion left.

“Ae Ae,” Jiah yelled, shooting up from the bench and running the short distance to hug Aera. “You look amazing.”

Aera giggled, pulling back from the hug but taking grasp of one of Jiah’s hands to hold. “Thanks, JiJi. You look amazing, too.”

“Oh, stop,” Jiah jokingly said before she started leading Aera down the path. “Sooyungie had to go get something, so she’ll be back bu-”

“I know, I saw her.”

“Oh, goodie,” Jiah replied. “But she wanted me to sit at the bench and wait for her to come back, in case she needed help carrying what she went to get, so I’ve gotta leave you to go by yourself.”

“Uh-”

“But don’t worry!” Jiah reassured. “It’s pretty much a straight shot from here, walk for like two minutes and you’ll see Haeunie.”

“Jus-”

“Okay, bye!” And Jiah took off back in the direction the two of them had just walked from, leaving Aera to stand in the middle of the path by herself.

“Walk for two minutes and I’ll see Haeunie,” Aera repeated to herself as she set off further down the path. The walk this time had less scenery and much more trees, which gave off a lot of shade, increasing the cold temperature.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she kept walking, a sense of familiarity coming over her as she continued down the path. She couldn’t place it, but she felt like she had been down this path before, but ultimately, Aera chalked it up to the many times she had come to this park, so of course it would look familiar.

Like Jiah said, two minutes later, Aera saw Haeun who was in fact not sitting on a blanket with a picnic and was instead bent over at the waist, picking flowers off of a bush.

“Haeunie?” Aera called out.

Haeun startled, jerking face first into the bush before she straightened herself out and twirled to face Aera, a look of fright on her face.

“Ae Ae,” she cheerily said, taking the palmful of flowers that she seemed to have picked from the bush and held them out in Aera’s direction. “Would you like some flowers?”

Aera chuckled, used to Haeun’s antics but nonetheless she nodded, and took the flowers into her hand.

“Why are you plucking at a bush?”

“Uh-” Haeun seemed caught off guard by the question. “Can I not pluck at a bush?”

“I never said that.”

“Mm, well,” Haeun shrugged. “Just ‘cause.”

Aera got a weird feeling from Haeun’s demeanor, feeling like something was off. “Is everything okay?”

“Do things not seem okay?”

Aera raised an eyebrow at that. “No, they don't.”

“Oh,” Haeun, once again, looked caught off guard by the answer. “Well, everything is most definitely, one hundred percent fine.”

“That means things aren’t fine,” Aera said. “Just take me to the picnic. Actually, why aren’t you there? Both Sooyung and Jiah said I’d find you at the picnic blanket. But here we are, with no picnic or blanket in sight.”

“Why don’t you put a flower in your hair,” Haeun grabbed one of the flowers from Aera’s palm and tried to slide it behind her ear, but Aera slapped her hand down before she could do it.

A frown appeared on Haeun’s lips. “Or maybe you don’t.”

“Haeunie, I’m serious. What’s going on?”

Haeun huffed before grabbing Aera’s wrist. “Fine, let’s go.”

“Whe-”

“No, questions. Just come.”

Aera allowed herself to be tugged by Haeun, her feet slapping the pavement loudly with each step she took. They walked for a few seconds, taking odd turns here and there before Haeun led them to a familiar set of bushes.

“Did you just walk me in a circle,” Aera asked.

Haeun didn’t answer. Instead, she led Aera through the bushes, and that is when Aera realized where they were at.

“Oh, Haeunie, you know how I told you that Soobin took me to see a pond that one time?” Aera asked.

Haeun didn’t respond, but Aera knew she was listening so she just continued. “Well it’s back here and it has little fish in it.”

Soon, they cleared the bushes, and the pond and waterfall that Aera just mentioned came into view.

“Look, the fish-” Aera took a step toward the pond, eager to show Haeun the fish, but she stopped short once she caught sight of the last person she was expecting to be standing in front of her.

“Soobin?” She muttered quietly, watching as the boy in question stood a few feet away from her, a bouquet of flowers in hand and a picnic to the left of where he stood.

Aera was frozen for a moment, taking in the scene before her as Soobin looked at her with an odd glint in his eyes. She felt her heart speed up the longer she stood in place, so she turned over her shoulder to ask Haeun what was happening.

“Hae-” Her words got caught in her throat as she noticed that Haeun was nowhere to be found. “Where’d-She was right here!”

She quickly got herself together, realizing she was on her own here, and turned back around to face Soobin.

“Uh, hi.”

Aera’s entire being was encompassed with heat, everything just felt so hot. Even the brief breeze that blew by didn’t help to quell how hot everything was.

“Mm,” Soobin hummed. “H-hi.”

His grip on the bouquet of flowers visibly tightened, the grooves of his knuckles becoming more prominent the harder he squeezed.

“These are for you,” Soobin shakily handed the flowers to Aera, who herself, couldn’t grab the flowers due to her shaky hands. “I-They are white carnations and red chrysanthemums—the carnations signify innocence and a pure gift for a woman-”

Aera stared at the bouquet as Soobin was rambling, the whites and reds helping to keep her grounded and not freak out about her longtime crush handing her a bunch of flowers.

“-And the chrysanthemums mean…” Soobin paused and cleared his throat which caused Aera to look up from the flowers and into his eyes, which wavered slightly.

“They mean I love you.”

_________________

Holy shit, he did it. Soobin mentally patted himself on the back as he finished speaking, glad that everything that he was stressed about was now out of the way. He had listened to everything Kiha and Serim advised, keeping his confession concise and paraphrased. And Hyunjin’s choice of just telling Aera he loved her seemed to be the best choice, because while Soobin was hesitant about saying such important words he knew that he meant them.

He knew that he loved Aera.

“Y-You,” Aera stuttered out, pointing at Soobin before she mumbled a bunch of incoherent mess and then pointed to herself. “Me?”

Soobin nodded with a small smile on his lips.

“Are you sure?” Her voice seemed really doubtful, almost like she thought this was all a dream, one too good to be true. Her entire expression was hesitant, as if Soobon would never love her, and Soobin felt his heart break in two.

“YES HE’S SURE, NOW SAY IT BACK!” A voice (Sooyung) shouted from somewhere in the vicinity, making both of them jump.

With her eyes blown wide, Aera catches her footing, shutting her eyes for a moment before she reopened them to stare at Soobin, right into his brown eyes.

“I love you too,” She released a breath once she spoke. “I have for a very long time.”

Soobin chuckled, reaching his left hand out to grip her right. “I know, Sooyung and your friends told me everything.”

Aera’s jaw dropped as Soobin led the both of them over to the picnic blanket, he gestured for Aera to sit down and she did, with him following. Aera’s legs were stretched out in front of her, her legs crossed at the ankle as Soobin unloaded the basket with tons of tupperware filled with an assortment of foods.

“Sooyung’s mom made all of this, so hopefully you like everything.”

He handed Aera one container and she opened it, four triangles of an egg salad sandwich inside with parsley dusted on top of it. She quickly grabbed one of the triangles, biting off half of the sandwich before she offered the container back to Soobin.

“So you planned this all,” Aera gestured to the picnic and the pond and the waterfall. “All of this, just to confess?”

Soobin crunched on a piece of carrot, “Well, Sooyung came up with the picnic idea. And tricking you idea.”

“Of course she did.”

“She said that you’d psych yourself out if I asked you on a date, flat out,” Soobin explained. “Well, Haeun said that actually, but the point stands.”

Aera paused her chewing to collect her thoughts. “This is a date?”

A few leaves crunched behind the duo as a shade came over them and Hyunjin, Jiah, Sooyung, and Hauen made an appearance, each of them taking a place on the blanket and they immediately started digging into the food.

“Of course it’s a date,” Jiah spoke through a mouthful of tossed salad. “We put too much work into this for it not to be a date.”

“It would be better,” Soobin pointedly said. “If we were alone on this date.”

The four of them ignored Soobin, each of them too invested in the food.

“Yungie, your mom makes some bomb hotteok,” Haeun said with her mouth stuffed full of the sugar filled dish. “Like, why is it so good?!”

Wordlessly, Jiah also reached for a hottoek, giggling to herself as she chewed and nodded in agreement with Haeun. Sooyung reached for another closed tupperware box, clicking open the sides to reveal bibim naengmyeon, the dish having such a wonderful smell and bright red color.

“Ae Ae, you want some?” Sooyung offered the container to Aera, and the brown-haired girl eagerly stuffed her chopsticks into the container, giving herself a heap of noodles to shove in her mouth.

“Are you guys seriously not going to leave,” Soobin asked with a slight tone of irritation.

Hyunjin shook his head as he swallowed whatever was in his mouth. “Nope. Oh! Also, Aera, your mom is over there and she saw everything.”

Right then, it seemed as if Dongmin had appeared out of nowhere (although she had just been stood off so far to the side with the other mothers), with the forgotten fruit salad that Aera left in her haste to not be late to the picnic. Alongside her was Ruha, who held a tissue tight in her right hand and she seemed to be fighting back some tears.

“Soobin-ah,” Dongmin cried out as she made her way to the group of five sitting on the picnic blanket. “Your speech was so adorable—“ She handed the fruit salad to Haeun, who was eagerly reaching for it. “Wah~, I knew you were my favorite for a reason!”

Soobin stood up to greet Dongmin with a hug, the shorter woman fussing over his outfit and how adorable he and Aera were, matching once again. Ruha came up to the two of them and she wrapped an arm around her son’s waist, giving him a light hug as if to say she was proud of him and everything he had done that day.

“Soobi!” Aera held her hand out in his direction, a fork with cantaloupe on the end. For a moment, Soobin just stared at it, not sure what she wanted for him to do but she then muttered, eat it, so he grabbed the fork and did as she said.

Dongmin found the interaction to be the cutest thing and she cooed. “Aera, get up. Let me take some pictures of you two. Come on, come on.”

Dongmin grabbed Aera’s arm, lifting her from the blanket and with her other hand she latched onto Soobin, dragging them two of them in front of the small pond and she shoved them together. They both fumble for a second, Soobin not sure where he should stand and Aera worrying about how she should position her hands.

“Act like you guys like each other, please,” Dongmin teased.

Sooyung could be heard chuckling from a distance. “They don’t have to act!”

Aera’s cheeks burned red at this, and Soobin decided to take the initiative and slung his arm around Aera’s shoulders. She reacted quickly, putting her arm around Soobin’s waist and that seemed to make him happy because he squeezed her shoulder and tucked her into his side, a bright smile on his lips.

Dongmin started taking multiple pictures, turning his phone this way and that, bending down in a squat and then onto her tiptoes to get all the angles imaginable before Aera thought it was enough.

“Okay, okay, Eomma,” she stepped forward out of Soobin’s grasp to cover her mother’s camera and lower the phone. “I think that’s enough. You can also leave now, I’ll text you when I’m ready.”

“No, no, no, no,” her mother responded, shaking her head. “Serim said she made a bunch of food per Sooyungie’s request, so I will be enjoying that to my leisure.”

“Eommaaaaa,” Aera whined. “This is supposed to be a date—“

She paused and turned to look at Soobin for clarification, to which he cutely nodded his head, affirming her statement.

“—A date. Between me and Soobin. Not me, Soobin, our friends, and our mothers!”

Dongmin stared at Aera for a moment, a blank look on her face as she looked at her daughter with an are you done sheer in her eyes, and right then and there Aera knew her mother was not leaving. Dongmin recognized her daughter’s expression as she knew she wasn’t going to win this fight and she pet her daughter on the head.

“Enjoy yourself, Ae Ae. But I will also be enjoying myself.”

And with that Dongmin walked over to the picnic blanket, Ruha and Serim also being there with the other five as they all seemed to be having the times of their lives crashing Soobin and Aera’s first date.

Aera looked on at the scene with a pout on her lips as Soobin reached for her hand and slowly began heading out of the clearing and into the main part of the park.

“Let’s go for a walk,” He grinned. “This might be the only alone time we get together.”

Aera allowed herself to be led onto a trail by the loose grip Soobin held on her hand and as he went to let go Aera gripped his pinky with her own. She slid her palm against his slowly, hesitant with her actions. As he did with the pictures, Soobin once again took the initiative and intertwined their fingers. A shy giggle fell from Aera’s lips as she swung their joined hands back and forth, the fact that their first date was practically no longer a date fading from her mind.

“So,” she spoke after they walked silently for a few minutes. “This is why you were so busy the last few days? You were planning to woo me.”

“‘Woo you’,” Soobin repeated to himself. “I think the correct term would be ‘confess my feelings to you in a sweet and unique manner’.”

“Sweet and unique are good words, I guess,” Aera squeezed his hand, causing him to look down at her. “Did you mean it?”

Soobin looked into her brown eyes and then and there he knew that he really did mean it. Even if he was only sixteen, he was sure he meant it. “Yes, I did.”

A wide smile spread onto her lips as well as a blush to her cheeks. “You’re so sappy.”

“Oh, so you aren’t going to say you mean it back,” he jokingly exclaimed. “I was simply answering a question, and now I’m being made fun of!”

“Not made fun of! And you know for a fact I mean it,” Aera huffed out. “For gods sake I’ve had feelings for you for years.”

Soobin laughed, remembering his pestering about who her crush was and he laughed even harder when he remembered that he thought it was Hyuka of all people.

“It must’ve been such a hard three years, Pouts,” he let out a sarcastic sigh. “Imagine seeing my handsomeness for years—“ he shook his head. “—How strong you must be.”

“You’re awful,” Aera sneered at his teasing. “Why do I like you?”

“Because I’m Soobi,” Soobin said as if that was a justifiable answer. “And you’re Pouts. We just go together.”

“Well, initially you were Binbun,” she pointed out. “And now you are Soobi.”

They continued down the trail, hand in hand, basking in one another’s presence.

“I can be both.”

“You can be both.”

#choi beomgyu #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #hueningkai #kang taehyun #kpop #choi soobin x female oc #social media au #txt #txt social media au

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

the unseen one - 30

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: i’ve been foreshadowing this ending since like mid fic and i’m proud for not giving up on this ending which i almost did but thankfully i did (yay plot consistency). i’m rly emotional about finishing another fanfic, it’s been such a joyful ride and i wanna thank everyone who commented and liked/reblogged my work for these past months, you guys are fantastic. enjoy xx

A kaleidoscope. A kaleidoscope was the first thing that broke through the darkness in various shades of pink, white, and grey. The images were blurry and the colours vibrant as it spun through the darkness, soon enough becoming the only thing occupying what once was a sea of darkness. The once silence that wrapped itself around like a tight hug gave way to the sound of stream water, sounds of nature and spring slightly blooming in her ear drums. What once was nothing was blooming and alive.

A warm feeling settled over her chest and in a harsh move she opened her eyes, raising her chest and gasping up for air. The first sight was bloom, the perfect utopia of what spring sounded like in every song and every fairytale with various different flowers and tones of various colours. She looked down at her hands, noticing how warm they were, almost too warm and as she was about to snap her head back, petals started falling onto her palms.

She should be scared, but she somehow wasn’t and as if it had been a taught movement, her hands moved up to her hair, feeling more white petals falling on her palms and legs. Y/N looked around, not understanding where she was standing or where she was for that matter. She was surrounded by a blooming environment, blooming so slowly yet so fast she could see the flower buttons open.

Slowly but surely her senses started to recover to her, noticing the cold marbled stone she was sat on and the warm sun hit her skin. Bucky. Was Bucky alright? Where was Bucky? Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around her last memory of Bucky’s terrified face. Was he okay? Where was he? She was removed of her line of thinking by a shattering sound. Y/N immediately turned her head towards the sound seeing Hecate mouth wide open as if she had seen something fantastic.

- Where’s Bucky? - her voice came rather raspy but the goddess of witchcraft was still standing there wondering if Gaia was playing tricks on her. Dead mortals don’t come back to life. Dear gods, dead mortals who gain the hatred of half the pantheon don’t come back to to life as part of the pantheon itself. - Where’s Bucky?!

She questioned again, turning around and placing her bare feet on the grass patch yet unlike normal, the grass did not turn dark green, instead blooming from her steps as if she herself controlled nature. Hecate stopped her by putting herself in front of Y/N. She knew better not to annoy a newly born goddess specially because she didn’t seem to know what she was and therefore had little to no grip with what she could do.

- I’ll get someone to get him, you need to sit down. - she motioned for Y/N to sit down as carefully as someone handling a bomb. Hecate quickly send a equally confused nymph to go grab the incredibly depressed god of the Underworld.

Y/N sat down against the bark of a cherry blossom, looking at Hecate who had a very confused yet careful look in her eyes. The goddess of witchcraft sat next to Y/N as more petals started to fall on her hands. She had forgotten how it was to be next to a very nervous goddess of spring.

- Where are these coming from? - Y/N threw the bunch of petals onto the ground, noticing they kept falling onto her hands.

- They’re coming from you. You need to stop stressing or they’ll keep showing up. No harsh emotions, just breathe.

- Why are you talking to me as if I were going into labor? - more petals fell off making her huff, throwing another bunch on the ground. - What’s going on?

- In the easiest ways of putting it in ... I would say you’re ... well, the goddess of Spring. - she pointed out at the once dead grooves which were now blooming like the rest of the Elysium. Damn, it was better than the rest of the Elysium with his beautiful tall blossom and fruit trees with a substantial amount of flower bushes and other grass weeds.

- The goddess of Spring no longer exists, Bucky told me so. - she replied, very overprotective over the answer she had gotten from her beloved. Like an expression of her huffing, more flower petals fell over on top of her hands.

- Goddesses doesn’t cease to exist, specially a goddess responsible for a whole season. They are ... chosen if they cease to exist. The titans seem to have chosen ... well ... I guess you.

- That is not funny. - she got up from her sitting position, once again smoothing over the petals that had stuck to the fabric of her gown. Hecate surely was not her biggest fan but she knew what she was and she definitely was not a goddess. At least she didn’t felt like one. How did goddesses even feel? Did they fell any different from mortals? She was about to question Hecate about that fact when two nymphs entered the grooves pulling a very unwilling God of the Underworld with them.

Y/N turned to face him, the first thing calling her attention was the stubble turned beard and the dark bags under his now very wide awake blue eyes almost as if he wasn’t expecting her to be there. Y/N rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her nose in the space between his neck and neck. Bucky stood still wondering if he was dreaming again or if he had finally managed to overdose himself with ambrosia but no, she was there, she was there with her arms wrapped around him and flowers blooming from the top of her head and dropping onto him. His eyes settled on Hecate who had the same surprised eyes yet slightly less than him.

Y/N pushed back, noticing something wrong in Bucky’s aura but he was still staring at her. He caressed her jaw with his knuckles, thumb caressing the soft part of her cheek. Noticing its warmth and her soft smile he didn’t know if he wanted to raise her up or kiss her. He settled on kissing her, noticing the newly added honey like taste to her lips and more flowers falling onto their hands.

- I’m not sure if I adore this. - she caressed his beard, making him chuckle as he kissed her again. - Stop, when was the last time you slept?

- Long enough, this might be some hallucination of you.

- No, I’m here.

>>>>>

The Underworld was a mess and that was something that came rather lightly from Y/N’s point of view as it normally used to be constantly messy full of dead souls and unruly nymphs. However, today, it seemed like everything had broke loose and every single god, goddess, demigods, oracles and every single thing that could be considered mythical and gone down to the underworld for her coronation. Was she happy about it? No. Was James happy about it? Also no. They’d rather be in their secluded little spot of the underworld without anyone around. However, protocol demanded the new goddess of Spring to have a public coronation if she became Queen of the Underworld. Besides, Y/N was a bit way too cheerful to see those who had wanted that spot see her gain the crown to the Underworld.

- I’m going to catch you, sunflower. - Bucky chuckled lowly as he briefly saw the grass she had stepped on bloom with white roses. He heard her giggling in the distance and then it stopped, rendering him alone and somewhat lost and because he wasn’t used to the newly found sunlight, the fresh air and fauna that surrounded him in the Groves, he asked for help from one of the nymphs who were taking care of the flora.

An annoyed nymph turned to be face to face with her King, pointed towards a direction. He was aware that this was supposed to be a fair game, something fun that his beloved had come up with in the moment bored of coronation preparations, but he would rather be done with it quickly so that they could enjoy each other’s companies and bring her back to a very pissed and very stressed Hecate.

He walked and walked, listening always for the river that the undead and nymphs had spoken up and asking ever so often for directions for other servants. They would whisper a “Over there” and point or a “Go North”, and Bucky would believe their words because they had been nothing but loyal to him. In fact, much more loyal to them than others had ever been to him - he found that, in the afterlife, people - or what was left of them - were much calmer and kinder than those who were still alive.

Soon enough, he found his beautiful Y/N humming by the river. Her delicate feet were dangling and lightly touching the water that ran on the stream and her eyes were shut, head moving to the rhythm of the chirping birds and a small smile played on her lips. Quietly, he inched closer to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him and burying his face in her hair; it smelled of everything good about spring, from freshness to wild flowers and ripe fruit.

She giggled and kicked her legs up in the air, clearly enjoying the attention she was receiving but also no liking that her little game had come to an end which meant she had to return to the very much annoying job of preparing for the ceremony.

- Seems like I found you. - the God of the Underworld grinned against her hair, setting her on the ground but holding onto her hips, admiring her figure; her newly found position led to her being constantly adorned with luxurious fabrics, veils with beautiful patterns and so many jewels, mostly gifts from Demeter from all people, but somehow it was when she wore something as simple as a white dress enveloping her form and golden sandals that he found her the most mesmerising. The simplicity and purity that he had fallen so hard for that he moved heaven and earth to have, regardless of what everyone else said, regardless of how lowly they found Gaia to have named a mortal Goddess of Spring. She was always a goddess in his eyes but the actual title did suit her better than anyone else. - Did you have fun escaping your responsibilities?

- Would have been funner if you didn’t cheat, Bucky. - she raised her eyebrows at the man and crossed her arms, knowing fully well he had. How else would he know his way through the newly found Groves if he barely entered them. Sighing, she kissed his lips lightly and then grabbed his hand to take him to the nearest shade. - I’m sure Hecate sent you after me.

- Yes, she says you’re being quite impossible but personally, I was hoping we could have some personal fun. - he smirked, pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear, then to her neck and collarbone, making her shiver and push him to the side lightly. - Such a harsh no.

- I don’t need my nymphs to see that. - she blushed and fidgeted with her hands and wedding ring, sitting down and resting her back against the bark of a tree. The God of the Underworld chuckled and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. - But I can be swayed if you cancel the whole ordeal.

- You know I can’t. - he kissed her shoulder. - They’re already very upset over your decision of giving the souls of the Elysium their memories.

- They are much more happy and you can’t deny it. - she pointed out. Y/N had technically been a ruling consort ever since she got wedded to Bucky in a very small ceremony where no one but them were included. As such, Y/N had put forward a motion to give the Elysium’s residents their mortal memories back, something that of course had been passed as she was fiercely backed by Demeter who could put the fear in any god by just looking at them. It had made the residents much happier and Bucky much happier considering he could now speak to his friends, family, and most importantly Steve. She on the other hand had managed to reunite with her parents and introduce them to Bucky which managed to be their version of normality. This had however created a stir with Zeus who was still very much upset a mortal was now a goddess he could no longer order around. - This is ridiculous, why do they need to see it?

- It’ll just be for a few hours. Besides, I wanna see you become my Queen.

- Okay. - she shrugged. - Only because I love you.

- I know. - he smiled, lovingly. - I just hope you don’t change your mind, we’re sort of in this forever.

- What does Steve say? Til the end of the line?

- Til the end of the line, sunflower.

THE END

tag list: @philogrobizedvee @keithseabrook27 @inlovewith319 @nwbstan @romanoffs-heart

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adelheidvonschicksal · 4 years

Text

Until Next Time | Todoroki x F!Reader

Despite being married, he can’t bear to stay away from you.

Content warning: smut/nsfw, cheating, angst, fantasy!au

Word count: 2151

Todoroki loved you.

You were his everything. The source of heat on snowy days. The sunshine that helped him cast aside the shadows that plagued him. The soft touch that smoothed out his roughest edges, crafting them into something unfamiliar yet beautiful.

Still, he married someone else.

Given the choice, he wouldn’t have. He was never in a rush to be married, longing after those youthful adventures like most men his age, but he had always envisioned you’d be the one with him when the time came. It only took an arranged marriage to make him realize that it was nothing but forlorn hope to think such a thing would be possible.

He didn’t complain though. Maybe he should have; but with you being a commoner and he a prince, it was inevitable that this would be the conclusion either way. Even now, he could recall his father saying: this is for the good of the country.

You weren’t invited that day. Todoroki knew you wouldn’t have shown up either way.

He thought it was for the best. Being married meant he should distance himself from you. It was easy to resist at first since he couldn’t talk to you even if he wanted. You were obviously upset and refused to see him. After all, you had loved him too and being together would only cause you pain.

There’s a funny thing about love though. It makes it hard for two people to stay apart even after the vow he was forced to make to some princess who had the misfortune of being betrothed to him. Upon seeing you again, his resolve slowly crumbled for star-crossed lovers couldn’t be separated forever. Even Romeo and Juliet found a way; and like Romeo, he couldn’t stay away despite the consequences and the shame.

Todoroki often found himself seeking you out, because despite his wife’s beauty, her intelligence, all the fabulous silk and pearls, she didn’t make him feel the same way as your smile did when you greeted him. Her voice calling out to him didn’t quite compare to yours when you whispered his name. Neither did her body fit so perfectly against his like yours did when your lips finally met.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today,” you whispered happily against his lips, drawing your arms around him. Your head went to his shoulder, and his hand faithfully cupped the back of your head, petting. You shared a modest embrace that left him fulfilled in a way he hasn’t been in what felt like ages. He never realized how he could so desperately long for something as simple as a hug from the right person.

“We had an assembly canceled, so I thought why not come see you.”

“Canceled? Hm…are you sure you’re not calling in sick again, Prince Shouto?” you giggled, and the teasing laughter brings him back to fond memories. He had often slacked off in preference of visiting you when he was younger.

“There’s only so many I can attend before I’m completely drained,” he reasoned, the exhaustion of his royal duties accumulating over the days. When he finally reached a deserved break, it was never you he went to sleep with, garnering more stress.

Pulling away, you offered, “Would you like me to make you something then? I can have something on the stove in a few minutes.”

“That isn’t necessary. I can’t stay too long I’m afraid. I have to get back before—”

“Before someone notices I know,” you finished, repeating what he’s told you too many times to count. You wished it didn’t have to be this way. It wasn’t entirely his fault. You saw that, but you hated having to sneak around this way, being unable to indulge in simple things like going out together. But it would be a bigger embarrassment for him if the truth about a mistress got out.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to come sooner.”

You shook your heads. The thoughts on things you couldn’t change would not make anything better. Not for you or him. “Well, all that matters is you’re here now.”

Smiling, he leaned in, kissing your cheek. Lifting his arms, his hands molded to the shape of your waist. Calloused fingertips meticulously followed your form from the curve of your hips to the slope of your velvety thighs.

“Beautiful, let’s go to your room.”

“After you,” you said, following him to the location. There was no time to play coy. No need to hide your eagerness. You only had so much time together, and you refused to waste it playing hard to get when he so obviously already had you.

You sat on the edge of your bed, lips still locked with his and moving vigorously to gather as much of his taste as possible. You would need the memory again to sustain you until he would visit again. His top lip brushed over your bottom one, sucking and pulling on the supple flesh.

Todoroki began to remove his vest, besting his own record to relieve the many buttons and shrug the shirt off before pressing you flat against the bed. Like glue, your hands attached to his chest, palms skimming over alabaster skin and the subtle bulges of toned muscles. Moving to his back, you massaged his shoulders before tracing the smooth grooves of his shoulder blades.

Todoroki sighed at your touch, the low drawl echoing and fading in your open mouth as your tongues swirled. You didn’t get a moment to breathe until he decided your neck was more worthy of the attention from his mouth. Brazenly, he trailed hungry kisses down your neck, smirking when you responded with an adorably amatory moan and tilted your head to allow him more silky flesh to place possessive marks on. Your hair tickled his face, flooding him with the sweet smell coming from it. You held such a lovely scent. The milky aroma of cream and freshly baked goods It sunk into your skin from your career. No matter how much you washed the scent never seemed to leave you. No other smell was nearly as alluring, and his efforts to have you grew tenfold. It was as if you were all he could think about.

Todoroki wrapped his arms around you, expertly pulling at the strings that held together your corsage until your breasts were free from the tight confines of your dress. His gaze fell on your, watching the gentle heaving of your chest as you heavily inhaled. You whimpered when he pushed a pert nipple with an affectionate touch. The mewling only grew when he circled along the ring of color enclosing the sensitive peak in the center, occasionally dragging his thumb over that fragile crux.

He followed along your collar bone, leaving a trail of wet bites to the valley between your breasts. He squeezed one gentle, making you moan from tender touches over delicate convexes. He blew air on one puffed nipple before warmly wrapping it in his mouth.

“Shouto.” You moaned as he hungrily sucked, your body lifting and plopping back onto the bed as your core ached. It felt like you were on fire as his teeth raked your untouched skin.

When his mouth fully preoccupied your upper body that’s when his hand glided down to your hip, pushing your dress further down, and you shimmied it off with urgency. He released your nipple with a wet pop, his saliva coating over you. “Someone’s needy today. Have you been a good girl, not touching like I said?”

“Y-Yes,” you admitted, and he smirked.

“Let’s see, shall we?” he said, sliding his hand between your legs.

He coaxed a finger into you, lightly pumping and extracting out a small release of your cum. Todoroki's heart jumped when your cunt squeezed around him with the addition of a second finger. His thumb followed your part, glossing against your inner lips to the covered bundle of nerves they led to.

You mewled, your back-arching as you squirmed to get tighter to his hand. You ground against him, and he licked his lips when your sweet cum coated his open palm. Watching your radiant face, he smiled. “You’re so beautiful, love,” he whispered and slammed his lips against yours again.

You moaned in unison, swallowing down the sultry taste of each other. He kept stroking your plump underside, his fingers sinking deeper and deeper into you with each scissoring motion.

You gasped loud, haziness growing in your mind as arousal pulled in your stomach more and more. “I n-need you now.”

“Need how?”

“I want you to make love to me,” you answered, making him flush a pale shade of pink. It was only on these rare occasions with you he could possibly call sex that. It didn’t seem right to call it lovemaking when it was with someone he didn’t love.

“As you wish,” he said, kicking off his boots and shuffling down his jodhpurs. He lined his tip against your lips until they yielded and parted with his guidance. You suck him in, hugging his pulsing cock. “You feel incredible,” he remarked, his shoulders relaxing and eyes fluttering closed as he pumped into your orgasmic chamber.

“Ah, Sh-Shouto!”

You gripped onto his shoulders, holding onto him and never letting go. He stretched you so wonderfully. Each nerve being massaged by hot flesh throbbing against your inner walls.

Todoroki grasped onto your hips, holding you in place as the force of his hips increased. The light slapping of your hips echoed, only covered by your ever-increasing groans. Your breasts jiggled like pudding cups pushing against his chest. Chanting his name, you bucked back up into him. Your head lolled back as you caused him to hit deep inside of you. Each time your arousal was ticked up another notch, and you came with the intense constricting inside of you.

Todoroki moaned, riding through your orgasm as you clenched around him. Your slick cunt left him dowsed in your cum, and he rocked into you clumsily, desperately seeking more pleasure as he raced to catch up to you. He knew he was close when his body tensed before he burst in release.

You were filled with a sudden heat, the culmination of which leaked out of your tight slit with the slowing buck of his hips. You milked him completely.

You buckled into each other; bodies sweaty but relaxed in a cool afterglow. He wrapped his arms around your waist and released a heavy breath. Your hand went up to comb through red and white as he rested his head on the side of yours for the wee few minutes the two of you had left together.

He felt entirely at peace at that time, almost normal. Sex with you always felt cathartic before the inevitable disappointment that he would have to part with you soon or else raise suspicion. Reluctantly, Shouto pulled away from your embrace and began to dress.

“A little longer, just a few minutes longer, please five more, then you can go...” you begged, tugging him back. You raised your head, trying to kiss him again. He only briefly let the moment last, gently returning your affection before holding you back.

“Sorry. I have to get back on the road before it gets too dark to travel,” he explained, knowing if he was caught being away too long it would only make it more difficult for the two of you to see each other.

You sighed loudly, this time being the one to pull away from him. His lips curled into a frown and his heart tugged as he saw your head droop. “I’ll try to come sooner next time so we can lie together longer.”

“Sure.” You turned away from him, hiding your face. Your arm swiftly came across your face, and he didn’t have to guess that you were trying not to let him see your tear up.

“I mean it,” he said, touching your shoulders. You shifted away.

“You should get going before your wife misses you,” you returned, your voice trembling with frustration. The kind he wasn’t sure what to do about. He hated to see you upset. It was his fault for being unable to break it off, but he didn’t want to give you up again either.

“…Can I still get a goodbye kiss?” he asked hopefully as a sign that you weren’t too angry with him. But you didn’t bother to answer. Weakly, he leaned in and pressed another gentle kiss to your cheek, the only good sign was that you allowed him to do so. That too might have been wishful thinking. ”Until next time, (Name). I love you,” he said; except when you didn’t say it back, he wasn’t sure if there would ever be a next time anymore.

#todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #prince todoroki x reader #adelssmut #notsfw

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goodbysunball · 3 years

Text

Bring it on home

Comparatively easy listening from the set of records showcased this time around, but there's a world of grief settin' your jaw to grind. You deserve a neck massage and a cocktail; lean into these after you put your misery rectangle aside for a spell.

Astute Palate, s/t (Petty Bunco)

Emily Robb, David Nance, Daniel Provenzano, and Richie Charles got together and hammered out this LP during "48 sleepless hours" in Philadelphia. It's definitely a fairly rough documentation, but if you know the players, that's generally what you'd be gettin' into with 'em anyway. Gotta admit that I'm not a huge fan of what I've heard by David Nance - respect his hustle, though - and the same goes for the tracks he leads here; in particular, the studied classic rock caterwaul employed on "Stall Out" basically rolls my eyes for me. I am, however, fond of David Nance the Guitarist and his heroics on "Stall Out," and "A Little Proof" definitely has me more curious about his recent solo work I've skipped. These are pithy grievances, though: the album rules, as a whole, but it's just hard to stomach some of Nance's lyrics when they're side-by-side with bonafide jammers like "Bring It On Home" and "Treadin' Schuylkill." "Bring It On Home," in particular, with its Velvets-inspired chug and Robb's bleary vocals coolly beckoning you to do as the title says, heats to a boil with the blustery, fried guitar interplay. For me it wipes the floor with anything else on the album, and pretty much anything else I'll hear this year, so let's put all my petty complaints aside and declare this the Summer of Astute Palate, OK? Looks like the secret's out - the LP's sold out from the source, but can be found hiding in various distros and shops. Hunt it down, crack a tallboy, and embrace the sweltering heat of our melting planet with Astute Palate.

Maraudeur, Puissance 4 (self-released)

New and best LP yet from Leipzig's Maraudeur, self-released with some of the best packaging/artwork I've seen in a minute. My memory's usually a bit faulty, but I recall the band being a three-piece on their last, still very good LP from Bruit Direct Disques. I'm inclined to think that the group's ranks have swelled to five anyway, since the sound here is a bit more bright and full, lots of different moving parts zipping and moving around, giving the crisp recording some effervescence. Compared to older songs like "Computer Dreams," Maraudeur sounds sharper, capable of backing up any threats rather than coming across as deflated and listless. Even the slower songs on Puissance 4, such as "Slow Dress," thrive on tension, guitar strings set to snap amidst the robotic/hypnotic vocals. The band seems to have located a sweet spot between the simmering minimalism of Household and the technologically damaged vision of Chrome, and "TWYWYS" basically sounds like a collaboration between the two groups. Guitars are used as window dressing, favoring instead synths and showcasing the chops of the rhythm section. "Face/Figure" and my favorite track "C'est Caché" are the best examples of Maraudeur's rhythmic foundation, but nearly every track causes inadvertent head bobbing. While accessible and familiar on the surface, Maraudeur's dry humor, the carefully camouflaged layers of sound, and whatever is going on in "I Am Here" keep boilerplate post-punk comparisons at bay. Puissance 4 is a refreshing, addictive brew from the not-too distant future, and probably a blast to experience live.

Astrid Øster Mortensen, Gro Mig En Blomst (Förlag För Fri Musik)

New Gothenburg talent alert! Mortensen is apparently a newcomer to the scene, and her debut LP fits in nicely amongst the Förlag För Fri Musik discography. Gro Mig En Blomst features lonely and debased late-night solo explorations with guitar, piano and what sounds like an accordion, accented by electronic manipulations and the found sound that accompanies most FFFM records. It's dreary and stark, and can quickly bring the mood down when it's on. For me the most obvious reference point is Grouper's Ruins, in that both are recordings so intimate that it feels like an interruption to move while it's on. But I also get bits of Picastro's Whore Luck ("Hvor Kommer Mørket Fra?" sounds like it was plucked directly from that album), and there are similarities to Chloe Alison Escott's solo work, on the title track and "Piano i" and "Piano ii." Gro Mig En Blomst is a far cry from more traditional singer-songwriter music, dabbling in Stars of the Lid-like drone on "Brud ii" and jumping into the "Is there a record on or...?" genre on "Solen Er Et Lille Hus" and "Brud i." I can't say I go out looking for records this fragile and surface-level bleak anymore, but Mortensen's work is more often beautiful and calming than hopelessly gray. Another keeper from FFFM, sure to be one of the most sought-after records from the label, and for good reason.

Nightshift, Zöe (Trouble In Mind)

Travel back in time with me, if you will, to a time when "indie rock" was a genre label that had some meaning. After getting rid of the bad taste in my mouth and shaking off the embarrassment at who I was when I largely listened to stuff that'd broadly fall under that label, I'll allow that Nightshift is making a strong argument for some of the music released during the comparative naiveté of the late '00s/early '10s. Across Zöe, you get shades of Broadcast, Lower Dens' Twin-Hand Movement, the UV Race ("Spray Paint the Bridge"), Belle & Sebastian and A Sunny Day In Glasgow ("Power Cut" and "Romantic Mud"). The trick to Zöe is that it folds all these reference points in neatly and places it on a sturdy percussive base. I won't argue that every song here is memorable, but they're all enjoyable, and the songs that hit - "Outta Space," the title track, "Infinity Winner" - send chills down my spine every time. Guitars are plucked and scraped for leading beats, accentuating shuffling drums and giving the bass the spotlight. The vocals are dreamy and lyrics direct, and for the duration of Zöe you're relieved of the pessimistic present and allowed to rigidly dance to Nightshift's hesitant groove. They've charmed their way through my cynicism, and Zöe's been on heavy rotation despite my reluctance. Take it for a spin, and fall under Nightshift's spell.

Hugo Randulv, Radio Arktis: Samlade Ljud Från Den Norra Polcirkeln (Förlag För Fri Musik)

First solo LP from Hugo Randulv, an active presence in the Gothenburg scene with his involvement in Enhet För Fri Musik, Skiftande Enheter and Amateur Hour, among others. Though typically a guitarist, on Radio Arktis, he drops the guitar and instead fills both sides with glacial synths and dusty samples. The label's original write-up for this record called it "grand ambient," though to me it sounds and feels much more personal than something that would soundtrack the Olympics. His use of samples, most notably on "Radio Reykjavik," sounds intimately tied with some fleeting memory, the music serving to enhance or exorcise the feeling tied to it all. It reminds me most of the Fun Years' "God Was Like, No" in that both records used the tools common to ambient/drone music but applied a much more personal touch, that certain nameless attribute that keeps drawing a listener back in. Can't put my finger on it, but both records just sound like they had to be made, rather than serving as a genre exercise or one-off exploration. I don't know that Radio Arktis is going to change anyone's life, but it could, and I've been hypnotized by its wordless, sparkling gray tones for weeks. Even though the "solo musician embraces synths" thing is usually pretty tired and pointless, Hugo Randulv's contribution shows why it's an alluring proposition at all.

Sunhiilow, Beyond the Cycle (Ikuisuus)

More solo synth, this time coming from Valerie Magisson and her Moog Mother-32. Magisson's Sunhiilow project veers into new age/ambient with its bite-sized kosmische explorations. There's something about the combination of the short length of these tracks and the sense of movement present within each that allows Beyond the Cycle to transcend the lifeless drivel that's usually tagged "new age" and "synth." It seems intentional that Magisson was trying to capture the mood of each track title in its corresponding music, and she is largely successful, though its unclear if the title provided direction or was applied afterward. The somewhat jarring introduction of "Wilderness Bloom" and the stoned growth of "Circle Motion" are my top picks, but the album works best as a whole and played very loudly, the overall effect immersing the listener into heady zones traversed by the Nightcrawlers. Leave it to Ikuisuus to release an "ethereal ambient music" record that satisfies, and sounds and looks great to boot. Sunhiilow's a lot more tame than most of what Ikuisuus releases, but it's an accessible, recommended starting point to one of the best active labels. HOWDY.

#Astute Palate #Maraudeur #Astrid Øster Mortensen #Hugo Randulv #Nightshift #Sunhiilow #Petty Bunco #Förlag För Fri Musik #Ikuisuus

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