#All rose types are apparently fine

[asheanon]

Vincent Valentine running a tea shop.

— For @/Carendsyaz1 (on Twitter)

From: Ask Box Writing Prompt Game

📖 It's Tea Story Time...

At low volume, a strangely familiar tune can be heard playing from within. Though soft and slightly somber, there was something almost bewitching about its sound. For those who felt themselves inquisitive enough to stop by or simply take a little peek inside, the melody often served to pull them in. And if it wasn't enough to keep them there, then another provocation of the senses surely would.

While the space wasn't necessarily sizeable, it was made good use of. The interior was largely cast in black, embellished with mahogany trim and other forms of furniture and decor. Rows of shelves lined the walls - all of which were lined themselves with boxes and tins containing loose leaf tea blends. In one corner, what could best be described as "Victorian Gothic-esque" tea sets were made available with respective displays. In another, a variety of delectable baked goods could be found. It was sleek, elegant and dark. Pardoning some splashes of color, at least.

A modest collection of carmine roses and other fair forms of flower were scattered about and presented daintily, accenting the shelves and countertops. While these floral arrangements were far from abundant, oddly, their fragrance seemed to prove stronger than their number. It dared to puzzle you. Before your curiosity got the better of you, however, a door behind the counter opened.

A gentleman with long raven hair, partly obscured by a headband of a similar shade, emerged with a tray in hand. Following him, a wave of an even stronger rendition of the botanical scent wafted towards you. With a lean figure complimented by a cobalt dress shirt and black dress pants, it was soon made apparent to you... He was tall, dark and... well... he was a pretty handsome fellow too. Had it not been for the metallic shimmer of his silver tray, golden arm and rather pallid complexion, he threatened to blend right into the walls. What's that? Golden arm? Why, but of course!

Donned upon his left arm was a metal gauntlet bearing a golden sheen - large, clawed and unlike anything you had ever seen an employee in your local area wear. Its peculiarity begot intrigue.

He carefully sat the tray down upon the furthest counter, retrieving a pinch of something red, then another of something violet, dropping them both into a small metal infuser. It was then that he noticed he was no longer alone.

"Welcome." He offered a simple greeting. A moment was spared as an electric kettle was given power before he turned to face you. You were met with dark crimson eyes.

For whatever reason, you felt oddly compelled to purchase a lemon raspberry scone in particular... this same compulsion drove you to remark on the "heavenly aroma" just as well. And, as was made evident, there appeared to be a tea in the making right before your very eyes... so, naturally, one would only speculate what manner of tea it could it be, right? Right! Between the redolence and an innate sense of wonder, understandably, you found yourself pressed enough to ask about it.

Logging your order, the man then offered you a subtle nod and an even subtler smile. One that was easily missed. He retrieved a box from nearby, handing it off to you with the assurance it was a similar blend. It was titled "Rose On The Grey."

Clearly, it contained flowers; rose petals and lavender blossoms deemed safe for consumption, but it also bore black tea layered with hints of vanilla and bergamot. In essence, it was a blend of traditional Earl Grey with mostly floral additions.

"Goes well with cream and sugar." He added.

As you seemed preoccupied enough via examining the tea box's contents, he excused himself a moment more, tending to the now well heated kettle. He placed the infuser into a decorative black teacup, moderately gilded. It was one of two, now.

"Would you like a sample?"

Uh, yes. You would like a sample. In fact, when he inquired whether or not you would like any additives, you insisted that it be prepared the way he would personally prepare it. To your delight, he was willing to oblige.

The lull in time placed between the present and preparing two teacups worth of specialty tea felt to pass by effortlessly. A small, intricate table made for two beckoned you over. You took a seat with your scone and the box of tea that was not quite yours (yet,) but you felt compelled to let it accompany you nonetheless. Additional details within the shop catered to the eye as you waited.

"Here." Eventually, an elegant little cup of piping hot tea was presented to you, complete with the recommended amounts of both cream and sugar. Despite the somewhat impassive fashion in which it was bestowed upon you, you can tell it was made with love. Your intuition told you so.

Lightly blowing at the steam, you boldly went in for a sip - only to be stopped with a small "mm-mm." He had his back turned to you, returning to the counter. Had he heard you? How did he know?

The man insisted that you wait just a minute or two more, lest you burn your tongue. It was as if stories of visiting tea-samplers previous to you told themselves in the way he handled the situation. Fine, you would wait...

... But when you were done waiting, it was all yours. The revered first sip of the dark, mysterious shopkeeper's tea - of which seemed just as dark and mysterious, yet sweet as he.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I’ve always wondered why I’m so harsh on Zoe outside of just her character being used to it’s simplest degree (ie just being a replacement for Chloe) and I think I get it now.

Zoe is a perfect example of the “good/perfect victim”. The writers literally used her to downplay Chloe’s own abuse experiences by saying “See? Here’s a teen who was also abused at school and she turned out to be a sweetheart who’s so much better than Chloe in every way” blatantly ignoring She and Chloe possibly different home lives because Zoe had a different father.

As someone with experiences of toxic home lives I don’t appreciate it when abuse gets undermined especially parental and Zoe being used as a mouthpiece for what I guess can be summed up as abuse apologia made me think so lowly of her as a character.

Thoughts?

I actually just got another ask about my thoughts on Zoe, so I'll schedule this to post the same day since it's topical. In that post, I talked about why she bugs me and it's because she reads like the main character in an escapist self-insert power-fantasy fanfic. Once again, to be extra clear, those types of fanfic are FINE! Power fantasies and escapism are extremely valid things that are popular in professional works, too. For example, they basically dominate isekai and romance stories, but Zoe showcases exactly why characters like this only work as main characters in escapist fantasies. If you try to make them work as a normal side character, they just feel weird. Make them the main character or don't write them. Since she's not the lead, why is she even here?

I didn't consider the perfect victim angle in that other post, but now that you've brought it up, I'm wondering if that was indeed why she was introduced. Is she here to show that someone could have Chloe's mom and still come out to be a good person? The writers do seem really obsessed with that idea as we see from this moment in Derision:

Marinette: (as she goes down the stairs) I just got three more hours of detention on Saturday, and it's all because of Chloé. Rose: Don’t be mad at her. She's this way because her mother left her when she was young. Mylène: So did mine! And you don't see me having fun bullying Marinette. We've got to do something about your pants. I'm afraid they might be ruined for good.

This isn't even why people think that Chloe is the way she is? It's not just because her mother left. It's her father's terrible parenting, her absurd wealth, and the fact that her mother didn't actually leave. Audrey is still very much around, she just ignores Chloe most of the time and insults her on the rare occasions when they're in the same place. That's a recipe for disaster.

Sure, some people are lucky enough to come out being a good person in spite of their messed up home life and those who come out as jerks don't get a free pass to be jerks, but it's not like it's a total shock when bad home lives lead to people being jerks. The bully with a bad home life is a stereotype for a reason.

I'll once again point to The Good Place as an excellent show to watch if you want to see a realistic journey for a Chloe-like character. A journey that acknowledges the struggles that come from a messed up home life without giving the characters a free pass to use that home life as an excuse for their actions. Part of their journey is accepting that they have to stop blaming their parents and take charge of their lives.

Miraculous could have done something similar if it wasn't a formula show. The potential was there. But it is a formula show and the writers apparently don't think that Chloes are capable of change. I get that childhood bullies suck, I had one! I am very happy that she's no longer in my life, but I also don't think that she was incapable of change. She just needed to be put in the right situation where she accepted that change was needed and that never happened when we were kids. Has it happened since then? I don't know! Some people never change, but that doesn't mean that they can't change. Most of us are capable of changing. It just takes the right catalyst and a lot of hard work. People rarely start changing out of nowhere. It almost always has an inciting incident.

That's actually part of why Zoe's story feels so shallow. We're never really told why she was the way she supposedly was pre-canon or what caused her to change into her canon self. This is the backstory we get in Sole Crusher:

Zoé: I'm... really sorry about today. I thought that if I did everything Chloé wanted me to, she'd accept me. I just wanted to meet my family's expectations. Which is why I left New York in the first place. At the boarding school, I was playing a part; being someone else, hoping they'd accept me. But finally, I just couldn't anymore. That's when everyone turned against me, and one day, I found roaches in my locker. They all said I was a loser. Maybe they were right. I get that I'm different, and... I'd understand if you guys didn't want me as a friend.

So Zoe lied about everything and, when she revealed that she was a massive liar, everyone turned against her? Shocking. Why wouldn't they welcome a confirmed liar with open arms? That's so weird! (That was sarcasm.)

Seriously, why are we acting like Zoe was the wronged party here? This is literally Lila's story save for the motivation behind the actions (as far as we know). There are times when motivation matters, but this is not one of them. If you've spent weeks (months? years?) lying to people, then they're not going to trust you when the lies are revealed. Maybe you'll get lucky and someone will be willing to hear you out and give you a second chance, but that's an act of kindness. It's not an act of basic human decency.

This speed run story probably wants us to believe that everyone at Zoe's school was evil and that Zoe had to fake a personality to fit in, but I don't believe that. Writers, if you want me to believe it, then actually show us her story! You had a full New York special to do it! Why didn't you make Zoe the lead there since the specials love to introduce new characters to hog the screen? Have Zoe's school be the American school they go to and have her personality change be caused by Marinette and Co. so that Marinette and Co. trusting Zoe in Sole Crusher actually makes sense instead of feeling like something the plot forced on them! This is the scene I'm talking about, btw:

Marinette: (confused) I don't understand. When I met her this morning, she was so nice. Alya: That's crazy. Chloe's influence is so toxic that she's managed to corrupt her sister in a few hours. Alix: We gotta get her out of there.

Why are you all so sure that Marinette's two-minute-long interaction was the "real" Zoe and that her new personality is all Chloe's fault? Why are you acting like it's impossible to fake being nice but faking being evil is totally reasonable?

It really feels like this show is trying to say that people are either inherently good or inherently evil. Zoe was inherently good and just played at evil, so she's fine, but Chloe is just evil so she's doomed. That is really not how the world works, but now that I think about it, it does match the way the miraculous are often used. There are "evil" and "good" versions of some of the powers instead of just powers that can be used for good or evil. I've never liked that because it makes no sense. Why do akumas need a good form? Why is there an evil transformation phrase? Why do the miraculous even have an evil mode? Who programed that in???

While were on the topic of things that were possibly done just to show that Chloe is evil: is this why they made Jagged Stone an absentee parent to Luka and Juleka and then made the "twins" totally cool with it? Is the show trying to say, "Look! Luka and Juleka are nice! Therefore this is a Chloe problem. Stop blaming her parents!"

Who knows, but your idea certainly has merit. I wouldn't go so far as to claim that this must be what's going on, we don't know and I don't like to treat educated guesses as fact because they're not, but the text certainly has evidence to back this read.

[dbnightingale24]

React

A Stepcest Love Story About Jim

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Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Trying to decide if I should do one update or two this weekend. Either way, I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 4,963

Warning(s): SMUT (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Family Drama, Infidelity, Step-Daughter/Step-Father relations, Emotional Cheating, Drinking, Arguing, Forbidden Love, Lying, Self Loathing, Sneaking Around...I think that's it.

Summary: This is the final straw that breaks the camel's back.

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I do not give permission/consent for my stories/works to get posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of relationship/behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

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Chapter 3

2 Weeks Later...

Ever since you and Jim fell asleep holding each other close on your bed, you’ve done your best to stay away. Coming up with any excuse to reject any invite your Mother extends. It was silly of you to think that she wouldn’t ask Jim to text you on her behalf. 

Unknown Number: Y/N?

Y/N: Who is this?

Unknown Number: Uh, it’s Jim.

Y/N: How did you get my number?

Unknown Number: Your Mother.

Y/N: Of course. Of course.

Unknown Number: She thinks you’re mad at her because you won’t come over, and thinks you’ll talk to me.

Y/N: I’m not mad at anyone, it’s just better for me to stay away.

Unknown Number: We don’t think so.

Y/N: Jim...don’t.

Unknown Number: Nothing happened.

Y/N: Did you tell her?

Unknown Number: No, because there’s nothing to tell her.

On the one hand, you know that the both of you know that’s total bullshit. On the other hand, technically, nothing did happen. Plus, you know the more you stay away, the more she’s going to bother you and Jim which wouldn’t be good either. So, you explain everything to Ciara, and while she gives you a stern talking to, she agrees to accompany you to whatever your Mother invites you to.

“So, are you two a thing now?” she scoffed once she poured the both of you a cup of coffee.

“That’s not funny.”

“You’re the one who cuddled him-”

“We were both just drunk and overwhelmed. You know how I get when I’m drunk, and you know I only drink like that when I’m around her, Rose, or the both of them at once.”

“Fair point. Well, how do you feel about him?”

“I don’t know? Nothing. He’s my stepfather-”“Yeah, cause that matters.”

“Ci, I’m sitting here asking you to be my decoy. I’m very much aware of what can’t happen.”

“It’s not like you need someone to play devil’s advocate in this situation, but she did go out of her way to keep him a secret and make you the bad guy.”

“He’s good for her and I don’t need her thinking I took someone else from her-”“You’ve never taken anything from her.”“You and I both know that’s not how she views any of it. She had no problems until she got knocked up with me.”

“I hate your Mother.”“Yeah, I know,” you laughed. “Just gotta get through the Summer,” you smiled weakly.

The plan worked well enough, because whenever Ciara didn’t feel like being there or could sense that you were feeling uncomfortable, she could easily say- 

“Darragh needs help with Nora, she’s become really fussy lately. I’m sorry, but we have to go. Y/N is always our last hope if we can’t calm her ourselves.”

Well, apparently that excuse was working too well, because two nights ago you got a call you’d been praying to avoid.

“Jim’s children are coming over this weekend! You’ll be able to make it, right?” your Mother beamed as soon as you picked up the phone.

Jim had to be standing right next to her. 

“Oh...why would I be coming?”

“To meet them! They’re your step-siblings!”

“Uh...Ciara and I made plans with Darragh, cause he’ll be dropping Nora. We figured we all go out.”

“That’s even better! We can all hangout together!”

“Mum, why not-”

“Y/N, it’ll be good for everyone. They need to meet you. We’re all a family now.”

How the fuck is this your fault?

“Yeah, you’re right. Fine.”

“Why are you upset?”“I’m not upset about anything. I’ll see you then-”

“You don’t know the time-”“Just text it to me,” you bit before hanging up.

All of this leads to why you’re currently pacing around in your childhood bedroom. You don’t even know why you’re flustered. You already knew he has children, so why does it matter so much? Why do you care if they like you? It shouldn’t make a difference whether they like you or not. It’s not like you’re going to be hanging around much, especially when you go back to school, so why it driving you mad now?

“Hey, you okay?” Jim asks softly as he makes his way into your room, closing the door behind him.

You just glare at him as you continue to pace.

“What? This wasn’t my idea. We got to talkin’ about doin’ somethin’ small for the weekend, and she realized that my children haven’t met you, and decided to put this together.”

“You don’t want me to meet them?”

“It’s not that.”

“Well, what is it, then?”

“I don’t want them to meet you like this. All flustered and mad-”

“I’m not mad.”

“Don’t be a liar.” “I shouldn’t even be here. What the fuck?!”

“Calm down,” he begs softly, placing his hands on either side of you.

God, you hate how much you’ve missed his touch.

“They’re going to love you, today is going to be fine, and it’ll be done with before you know.”

“How do you know they’ll love me?”

“I know my kids.” “Jim-”

“Don’t stay away anymore.” “God, I can’t have that talk right now.” “What talk?”

“Don’t make me feel stupid on top of everything else!”

“We didn’t do anything-” “Jim, you flirted with me that night. We were standin’ outside my room, you flirted with me, and I liked it. I liked it a lot. Then, we stayed up talking and fell asleep holding each other...I shouldn’t be here.”

“Angel-” “You’re married to my Mother, Jim! My Mother! I can’t...we can’t-”

Taking a deep breath, he releases you and looks down at you. His eyes search the features, while you get lost in his ocean blue eyes.

“I don’t want...we just get along,” he smiles softly at you. “Aren’t we supposed to? I’m not trying to be some sort of father figure in your life, because you clearly don’t need one. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll only speak to you when you’re here-”

“It won’t, Jim. That’s the problem. It will just-”

“Here you two are!” Ciara whisper yells as she makes her way into your room. “Lover boy, I’m gonna need you to get down there and rein in your wife.” “What do you mean?”

“Her nerves are winning the battle and shes started drinking.” He scowls as he storms out, “fucks sake!”

You finally feel like you can breathe again. 

“What the fuck was that?!”

Shaking your head, you make your way over to your bed and sit, “I shouldn’t be here.”

“You tried to get out of it-”

“Ci, I shouldn’t be here. I should be as far away from him as possible, and-”

“Why...you don’t...Y/N-”

“It’s just a crush,” you quickly defend, but the scoff that leaves her mouth lets you know that she doesn’t believe you at all. “It is!”

“Your stepfather?”

“I haven’t even known him that long! Okay, this is exactly what I mean. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Alright, his kids aren’t here yet. Darragh is already fed up with your Mother, so it shouldn’t be hard for us to get out of here.” Grabbing your hand, she quickly leads you out of the room, “lets go.”

Ciara and Darragh exchange a look as he bounces Nora in his arms, and as  soon as her foot hits the bottom step, and he’s instantly getting up, Nora giggling at his fast movement. They decided to bring her last minute, and it honestly brought you more comfort than you thought it would. 

“Y/M/N I just remembered, I told my parents we’d come by today with Y/N, and it’s too late to cancel-”

“Nonsense!” your Mother slurs as she appears with a smile painted on her face, as an exasperated Jim follows behind her. “The kids are excited and almost here-”

“I figure we can leave now and just come back tomorrow for lunch or something. They’re here for the-”

He’s cut off by the doorbell ringing, and you close your eyes in defeat. Fuck.

You muster the best smile you can as you make your way to the front door, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

His ex-wife has mixture of irritation and anger on her face, but she does her best to hide it with a smile. 

“You must be the stepdaughter,” she smiles bitterly, and you force yourself to swallow down your irritation.

You still don’t even know how you ended up in this situation.

“I’m Y/N,” you greet as the two children run towards Jim, who’s more than happy to greet them and give them bear hugs.

You hate how much it pulls on your heartstrings.

“Hey Danielle!” your Mother slurs and Danielle looks completely taken aback.

It’s not as if you can blame her.

“It’s been a while!”

“I’ve been so busy,” your Mother laughs, engulfing her in a hug.

You just want the ground to swallow you whole. 

You shake your head and offer a kind smile towards Danielle before telling her, “my best friend, her boyfriend and child, and I will be here all night.”

“Glad to hear it,” she laughs awkwardly, once your Mother finally lets go of her.

“Thanks for bringing ‘em, Danielle,” Jim offers softly as he comes up behind you, mindlessly resting his hand on your shoulder.

The look on her face lets you know that she thinks this is Peyton’s Place, or something close to it. Once again: you can’t blame her.

“You’ll give me a ring if something happens, yeah?” she asks Jim.

“Of course,” he promises with a small chuckle.

Danielle gives your Mother one last look before looking at you and nodding, turning, and leaving.

“Who’s up for a movie?!” you ask excitedly, turning around and making your way back into the house, being met with cheers.

God save you from the hell that’s about to reign down on you.

**

“It’s like your Mother constantly goes out of her way to be a bitch,” Ciara scowls and you laugh.

You’ve done your best to keep your Mother at bay, but it’s been useless. You gave the children (your “siblings”) a choice between ‘Shrek’ and ‘Robots’, and you were so happy they chose ‘Robots’. Your Mother always hated Shrek (for reasons forever unknown to you), and you were afraid it would’ve pushed her further into whatever anxiety depressed state she was in. Turns out, no matter what, she was determined to push herself further into her stupor.

“They really seem to fuckin’ love you,” she slurred as she plopped herself down on one of the kitchen chairs, drink in hand. 

“Mother, stop,” you snapped, “these are your stepchildren! Get it together!”

“Why did ya even have to come home?”

“You invited me for the Summer!”

“Ya just had to-”

“Go to bed,” 

“Is everythin’ okay in here?” Jim asked softly as he made his way into the kitchen. 

“As if you give a fuck,” she mumbled before she took another sip of her drink.

“Stop it!” you snapped again in a hushed tone. “Go upstairs and sleep it off.”

“I’m your Mother!”

“It’s a shame you’ve never acted like it. Now go!”

She mumbled something incoherent as she grabbed her glass and got up. She glared at you before got on her tiptoes and kissed Jim on the cheek, then finally made her way upstairs. You wanted to throw the bottle against the wall, but you knew it would only make things worse for everyone involved.

“Angel-”

“You sure picked a real fuckin’ winner,” you scoffed humorlessly as you started to pace.

“Just calm down-”

“Are ya okay?”

“I’m fine, just take a moment,” he begged as he stood in front of you.

“This was her idea and...I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not? Me being here only makes things worse. Only makes her worse.”

“I want you here.”

“Once I’m gone, she’ll be back to the way she was before. You’ll be living in wedded bloody bliss again in no time.”

“Angel, you don’t get it,” he chuckled humorlessly as he cupped your face and looked down at you.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Jim...no. If anything, that means that I really need to leave.”

“I won’t...I can’t. We can’t...right?”

“Of course!”

“Then why are you lookin at me like that?” he asked softly.

You should’ve moved away from him. You should’ve said ‘no’, but you just stood there like deer stuck in the headlights.

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

“Jim I...”

“Say it, Angel.”

“It’s not right.”

“I know, but I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.”

“I’m your stepdaughter, Jim. This can’t happen.”

“Do you really feel that way? Do you look to me as a Father figure?”

“You know I don’t, but...you’re married. To my Mother.”

“Angel, I have tried so hard, but this...this feels right. Doesn’t it feel right to you? Like it should’ve always been like this?”

“Jim-”

“Doesn’t it feel right?”

You inhaled deeply before you closed your eyes, “yes.”

“I want to be yours, Angel.”

“Jim...stop it. We can’t do this. You’re just mad at her right now, and you have every right to be. You’ll feel differently in-”

“It’s never felt like this with her. Even before you, I’ve never felt the same towards her as I do for you, or for anyone for that matter. I didn’t know I could.”

“Please don’t tell me this. I can’t hear it, Jim.”

“Then let me show you.”

He didn’t give you a chance to even think before he crashed his lips into yours. You hated how natural it felt, because it was wrong. It was wrong on so many levels. The kiss was gentle, but desperate, like he knew it wouldn’t last long. Like he knew it couldn’t last long. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, loving the way your bodies meshed together as you tried to sear this moment and feeling into your brain. 

You knew this could never happen again.

He backed you against the kitchen wall and gripped your ass tight, before he hoisted you up and you wrapped your legs around his slim frame. The man didn’t look it, but he was stronger than you imagined.

And you’d imagined a lot.

You moaned as he started to kiss down from your jawline to your neck, “Jim...please.”

“I’ll do anything you want, Angel. Just tell me what you want.”

“You,” you whimpered as you ground yourself against him.

“Fuck!”

“I just want you!” you assured him as quietly as you could. “I just need you!”

“Can’t wait to-”

“Dad! Do you need help with anythin’?!” his son called from the living area, and it pulled you both out of your trances.

“No, I’ll be back with the popcorn soon!” Jim called as he looked up into your eyes. 

When the hell did he even start making popcorn?

He slowly put you down as he let out a heavy sigh, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t...we shouldn’t keep dancing around this.”

“I’ll leave in the morning-”

“I don’t want that at all. Stay tonight and we’ll figure this all-”

“Jim, this can’t happen again. Ever again.”

“We both want it to-”

“This will fan out before it even has a chance to turn into anything-”

“I love you.”

“Stop it, Jim.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“I’m just a nice vacation from my Mother, and you’ll-”

“You think that’s all I want? Close your legs to me forever, I’ll still want you, Angel.”

“Jim-”

“We can figure this out.”

“We have! We can’t do this ever again.”

He chuckled humorlessly as he pressed himself against you, “is that what you truly believe? That this is the end of it?”

“Jim-”

“Dad!” his son yelled, which only made him chuckle softly.

“I’m comin’” he called back. “This isn’t done,” he promised before he walked away.

Since that little incident in the kitchen, you’ve avoided all eye contact with Jim, as well as any close encounters. You feel like everyone will know if you two lock eyes, and you truly can’t deal with that right now. You can’t deal with any of it. How the hell did it even get this point? Just this morning, he told you that there’s nothing to be worried about, and now...?

You can’t do this. You can’t fall for this trap. He’s just hurting, and it’ll all go to shit. How can he be in love with you? He barely even knows you, but he claims to be in love with you? How would it even work? It can’t. Your Mother will hate the both of you, and she’d have every right. This is so-

“Babe, did you hear me?” Ciara laughs softly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry, no, I’m so drained,” you chuckle softly, shaking your head.

You’ve got to stop.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna stay over tonight?”

“I should stay. Who knows what she’ll be like in the morning, and I don’t want the kids dealing with her with just Jim. If the day needs to be saved, I’ll be here.”

“Well, aren’t you noble? Well, that and I’m sure you want to continue what you and Jim started.”

You can feel your blood freezing.

“What...how...?”

“Besides the way you avoided him like the plague, I was going in there to check on you, and saw you up against the wall, and him being the reason for it.”

“Oh my God!”

“I’m not going to say anything and I’m not going to judge you. However, you two do need to figure this out, and figure it out soon.”

 “I don’t even know how it got to this point. He claims he’s in love with me, but how can that be? Besides, there’s no way we can actually be together,” you groan, dropping your face into your hands. “The smart thing to do is to leave, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Then why is so damn hard for me to agree to leave?”

“Because you like him...a lot.”

“I’ve barely even spent time with him.”

“But the time ya have spent with him has been intimate. You both got to know each other in a personal way.”

“He’s my stepdad!”

“It’s not like you’re a child. You’re a grown woman.”

“He’s married to my Mother.”

“Because that’s goin’ so well.”

“She was fine until I came home.”

“She invited you home for the Summer! She has no reason to act like this, besides, if you didn’t set her off something else would have. She can only hide her real self for so long.”

“What if he’s actually good for her?”

“You think she can come back from this? Babe, even if he doesn’t end up with you, he’s never going to stay with her. Especially after that spectacle tonight,” she scoffs while placing her hands on her hips. “In case you forgot, she didn’t tell you that she got married.”

“C, this isn’t right.”

“I never said that it was. It’s backwards as shit,��but I’ve seen the way you two look at one another. The way you both try not to look at one another. There’s something between the both of you.”

“There shouldn’t be. There shouldn’t be for so many reasons,” you sob as tears fill your eyes.. “God, maybe I’ll just head back early-”

“And go where? Do what?”

“C-”

“Just talk to him. He clearly has some things he needs to say so, at least, clear the air.”

“I can’t think when I’m around him.”

“I don’t think he’s much better, love,” she giggles softly as she gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I shouldn’t be this torn up about this.”

“The heart wants what it wants. Like I said, just talk. See what happens,” she smiles reassuringly before wrapping you in a tight hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t see how it can be.”

“Just give it time. Everything in life requires time,” she assures you, letting go as both Darragh and Jim walk in. “Tell me how it goes.”

She gives you a quick kiss on the cheek along with a reassuring nod, before making her way over to Darragh, taking his hand, and walking out. You hear Nora coo softly when Ciara lifts her up, and a small smile comes to your face.

You’d choose her life over yours any day, honestly.

The door closes and you know you’re alone with Jim which, in some ways, is the last thing you want.

“Where are the kids?” you ask softly, avoiding Jim’s heated and heavy gaze.

“Everyone’s asleep, Angel,” he promises as he corners you.

That nickname is gonna drive you insane.

“Then we should be too.”

“We’re not done-”

“Jim, I’m just a welcomed distraction. You’ll get over this. Over me.”

“I don’t want to-”

“Jim, we can’t-”

“I know your heart rate speeds up when we’re alone, Angel. Mine does too. You want me the same way I want you.”

“Sex and intimacy are not the same thing.”

“And I never said that’s what this is.”

“Jim, this can’t happen anymore-”

“You don’t think about me the same way I think about you? You don’t want me in the same way I want you?”

“She’s my Mother, Jim.”

“Do you think of me as your Stepfather? As your Father?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he asks as he cups your face.

“This can be the only time we do this,” you breathe as he closes the space between the both of you. “Fuck.”

“There’s my good girl,”

“Jim...we can still stop.”

“We don’t want to.”

“We shouldn’t in here,” you breathe, mind foggy as you feel his breath on your neck.

“Anything and anywhere you want,” he husks before planting feverish kisses along your neck.

Fuck, is this really going to happen?

“Maybe...maybe we should wait-”

“I can’t wait anymore, Angel.”

“What if she wakes up?”

He’s quicker than you ever imagined as he stands up straight and leads you through the house. Almost in an instant, he’s leading you downstairs and into the spare room your grandparents had made for you to hide in when their arguments with your Mother got to be too much for you.

“Problem solved,” he husks before crashing his lips into yours.

It’s wrong, on so many levels, but it feels so good. He feels so good.

“Tell me this isn’t just sex,” you moan while he kisses down your body.

“Angel, this is so much more to me,” he promises, unbuttoning your shorts and pulling down. “I love you so much,” he groans, taking in your scent.

“Jim!”

“Been dreamin’ of this cunny, Angel. Let Daddy have a taste.”

You bite down hard on your bottom and swallow down your moan as he starts to suck on your clit. Lulling your head back, you close your eyes and grip his hair tight, quickly forgetting about all the guilt you felt only moments ago.

You gasp when you feel two slender fingers push their way inside, “fuck! You’re so....ahh fuck!” you whimper as quietly as you can.

Feeling the vibration from his moaning, has you ready to cum on the spot, but you’re not ready for it to end so fast.

Jim isn’t having that.

“Don’t make me beg, Angel,” he growls, looking up at you, fucking you faster with his fingers. “Give it to me.”

“I fucking...don’t wanna...fuck!”

“C’mon, Angel. Give me what I need,” he begs, using his thumb to massage your clit. 

“Fuck!”

“You sound so beautiful,” he groans doubling down on his efforts .

Your legs almost buckle as your orgasm washes over you, your desire soaks his wrist, and he fucks you through your high.

“You’re really somethin’ else,” he smirks as he slowly stands up, looking down at you with love and adoration in his eyes, while he slowly removes his fingers. “So lovely and all mine,” he whispers before delivers another soul stealing kiss.

You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only turns you on even more. Wrapping your arms around him, you let yourself get lost in him, almost completely oblivious to the fact that Jim is moving you both back towards the bed.

“Stop,” you breathe, forcing yourself to let go of him once you feel the back of your legs against the bed. “Take your shirt off.”

Lust floods his eyes as he takes a step back and slowly takes off his shirt. 

If you’re going to Hell, you may as well enjoy the ride.

Your hand lightly traces over his chest as you marvel, “you’re beautiful.”

“You’re one to talk,” he chuckles softly, caressing the side of your face. “If you want to stop-”

“We’ve already started,” you giggle softly.

“I love you, Y/N. I don’t want this to be over after tonight.”

“Lets just be here tonight, my love,” you smile weakly.

It’s not like you can blame alcohol, because you haven’t had a drink all day. This is a choice you’re making all on your own. You can’t even find it in you to feel bad right now because, with how he’s looking at you, the only thing you feel is love.

“Show me how much ya love me tonight,” you whisper as you undo his jeans. “Show me how much you need me.”

In no time at all, you’re both naked and under the covers of your long forgotten “emergency” bed. A very small part of you is still in shock over what’s about to take place, but as worships your body with his tongue, you instantly realize that it’s not enough to call it off and pretend it isn’t happening.

When you feel his tongue massage your right nipple while he sucks on it like it’s the world’s best lollipop, all regrets and guilt go out the window. 

“Angel?” Jim breathes, propping himself and looking down at you.

“Yeah?”

“Say it,” he pleads, slowly spearing into you.

“Oh fuck!”

“Please...fuck!” he grunts, gripping the sheets a bit tighter. “Please...please fuckin’ say it!” he begs desperately as he starts to pick up his pace.

“Fuck, I love you! I love you so...oh God!” you groan as he starts to pick up the pace. 

“You’re perfect.”

“Jim!”

“I know, Angel...just...Jesus, ya grippin’ me so tight!”

“Fuck...so close!! Right there...ahht!!”

“C’mon, Angel!”

“Jim...oh...OH!!”

You both go right over the edge at the same time, with Jim dipping down to kiss you in a weak attempt to silence your moans.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Give me a second,” Jim laughs softly, resting his head in the crook of your neck, while softly resting his body on top of yours.

“We’re fucked. We’re so fucked,” you laugh humorlessly.

“Angel, we’re going to be together-”

“Jim, it’s not like this is some regular affair. You’re married to my Mother. You’re my Stepfather. No matter what happens, this can only end poorly.”

“Then why did you do it?” he questions, pushing himself up a little.

You cup his face and caress the right side softly, “because I love ya, Jim. I’m in love with ya.”

Jim says nothing, he just dips down and kisses you passionately, and you feel him come back to life fore you.

His thrusts start off slow as a smirk comes to his lips, “I think we should have one more go, yeah?”

You dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you arch your back, “please!”

You and Jim spend the next hour or so getting tangled in your sheets, with you two mainly telling each other how much you both love and need one another. Yes, you don’t know much about the man, but you know that you’re drawn to him in every way that a person can be drawn to someone. Your heart, soul, and mind, has never reacted to someone in this way.

He is the missing piece you’ve always been looking for.

“Jim?” you question softly, laying your head on his chest and softly playing with his chest hairs.

“Yeah?”

“We can’t do this ever again. Ya know that, right?”

“We’re gonna figure this out-”

“Jim, ya married her. My Mother. Ya can’t-”

“I’ll figure it out-”

“There’s nothing to figure out, and you know that. You’re married to my Mother and this...this is for tonight only. She may not be a good Mother, but she is my Mother. At one point, you loved her and when I’m gone, you will again. You’ll see-”

“I loved a version of her. This isn’t just some fling with you-’

“She’s my Mother, Jim! I know that I love ya, and I believe that you love me, but this can’t happen. She’d never forgive me and I wouldn’t blame her. God, if she had any idea...Jim, it can’t happen again.”

“I don’t want that.”

“I don’t either, but it’s for the best.”

“If it’s what’s best, I’ll do it,” he sighs heavily, pulling you closer to him.

“I love you, Jim.”

“I love you too, Angel.”

“You can’t be here in the morning.”

“Just let me hold you a bit longer,” he begs softly.

You nod your head softly as you blink back tears. You know that this is the right thing to do. Yeah, your heart is breaking, and you know this isn’t something you’re gonna get over over night, but it’s what needs to be done. Tonight is all you two have, but what a night it was. As you slowly start to drift off to sleep, a small smile comes to your face. For just a moment, you two had each other. You had it all.

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and all of this will be a distant memory, and you’ll be strong enough to move on.

...right?

~~

[thepenultimateword]

Sugar and Spice Part Two

Part One

“You’re kidding me." Villain slapped her forehead, dragging the hand slowly down her face. "Of all the thousands of henchmen I could've picked, of all the dozens of departments, I chose a culinary minion? I might as well have brought a rolling pin! Or a donut!"

Henchman frowned. A whole host of arguments sat on his tongue. She might have realized his department sooner if she had taken a moment to talk instead of ordering him around like a dog. Also, she'd obviously lied about Supervillain asking for him, so she only had herself to blame for this situation, and frankly, he didn't trust anything she said anymore. In fact, he was very suspicious about what she was actually doing all the way out here and why she'd tricked a henchman to come along. Not to mention she'd jeopardized his job, maybe even his life, with her selfishness.

He quickly swallowed it all down. None of it would be met well, and he didn't need to be more on Villain's bad side than he apparently already was. He could defend his power though.

"Well, maybe if let me bake you something--"

"Just shut up." Villain plopped back down on the mattress and rolled the other direction.

Henchman stared at her back for a moment. "Should I still keep watch?"

"You might as well go to bed. You’re useless to me.”

Again with the combat-superiority bias. Henchman bit his tongue. “I might not be a good fighter, but I could still wake you up if there's trouble."

"Do whatever you want."

Fine then. He threw off his shoes, kicked under the covers, and flipped toward the wall, the bed springs squeaking aggressively under his weight.

Why should he break his back helping out a villain who didn’t even appreciate it? This was just so typical villain. What a bunch of pretentious snobs flouncing around with their "special" powers and looking down on everyone else. When it came down to it, it wasn't like Villain was really any different from him. They were both pieces. She was just as much under Supervillain's thumb.

“Excuse me?” Villain snarled.

Henchman stiffened. Did he say that out loud? Which part? How much?

He wet his lips and slowly peeked toward Villain's bed but was instantly thrown down. Villain's knees dug hard into Henchman's forearms while her hands were already around his throat, squeezing just tight enough that there was room for a trickle of breath and little else, certainly not any vocals like screaming or begging. "I'm not under anyone's thumb. Got that? I'm not afraid of anyone. If I wanted, I could finish you right here."

Henchman froze. Some prey ran, some fought back, but he was of the type that went still. Like a possum playing dead or a deer in the headlights. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. All he could really do was stare helplessly wide-eyed up at her. The ends of her hair tickled Henchman’s cheeks, and she bent close enough that he could pick out the amber specks in her molten eyes and feel the warmth of her breath across the bridge of his nose. She blinked into his gaze, and the snarl on her face softened.

She huffed. You’re just lucky I don’t have the time to clean up a body.” She unstraddled his chest and rose off the edge of the bed.

Henchman coughed a couple times and rubbing away the lingering pressure of her fingertips from his throat. "Bit of an overreaction for someone so sure of herself."

Villain whirled, red mane catching the air before floating back to her shoulders. "Do you want to die?"

Henchman smiled innocently. He was being so stupid. He knew that. But for some reason, he felt if Villain really was the sort of person who killed carelessly, she would have rid herself of him the moment he revealed the mistake. One less witness to her trip, mission, thing.

"Certainly not."

“Then shut. Up.” She flicked off the lamp on her way to her bed, blanketing them in darkness except for the sliver of street light stealing through a gap in the curtains.

“Of course, your eminence.”

Henchman curled back on his side, prey heart pounding even under the cover of freshly conjured snark. He rubbed his throat again. He was probably lucky she’d chosen a physical warning over using her powers. If there was any villain he should actually be showing respect to it was her. A primary power user. She’d been top dog of the city before Supervillain showed up and organized everything. She had the power to rearrange, but he had the power to take apart. And taking apart was so much quicker. So right hand it was.

“Villain?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Are you running away?”

“What?” Her eyes caught the light from the street, glowing catlike. “Do you think I’m some sort of cow—”

“It’s ok if you are. I bet you could run your own city.”

She blinked.

“Supervillain’s sort of made it impossible for any sort of natural growth in the organization. He kills people for their mistakes, he pits his subordinates against each other, he doesn’t value any of tertiary power types; sometimes it feels like he doesn’t care about the strength of the organization as long as everyone else stays beneath him. It’s not like he’s at risk of being taken out by anyone. Heroes or otherwise.” Henchman caught himself, quickly shaking out his rant. “I’m just saying that it makes sense to me why you might want to leave. Do your own thing.”

"That's not any of your business." She closed her eyes again and didn't say any more.

Henchman forced his own eyes shut. Despite being tired, his thoughts were filled with Supervillain. His insides twisted into knots, raising a light bout of nausea. He couldn't go back. Henchman might be too valuable to kill, but there was no guarantee. Supervillain's decisions weren't always logical. Henchman was actually a little glad to be away from it all. There had been no hope for escape on his own--Supervillain didn't like being stolen from, and leaving was a theft of yourself--but maybe if he was on Villain's side he'd be ok.

Henchman pulled the covers closer around him. He must have fallen asleep because when he next opened his eyes, the room was lit in the dim blue-gray of early morning. The shower handle squeaked from the other side of the wall, and a few minutes later, Villain emerged in the same clothes as yesterday, hair pulled in a wet bubble braid that reached to the middle of her back. She yanked on her boots and snatched the car keys from the bedside table.

“I'll drop you off at a bus stop, but you'll have to find your own way back.”

Henchman blinked groggily at her, but as it struck he shot upright. "Back?" He gaped at her. "You want me to go back? Alone? With nothing but my own word that you forced me to come with you?"

"Well, it's not like I need you to stay. Two people are much easier to track than one."

"You screwed up my job! I missed my deadline! Supervillain could have me killed!"

"And you'll be better off begging for forgiveness than continuing on."

Henchman frowned. Was she actually looking out for him? "What if became your henchman?"

"What are you even talking about?"

"You're building your own empire, right? You'll need followers. So, I'll be the first one. I'll do everything you don't want to and prove that I'm actually useful."

Villain furrowed her brow, suspicion rearranging the pattern of her freckles. "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're just a random henchman that I've never even met. Why are throwing yourself at me?"

Henchman flushed. "Ok, first of all, I don't think I'd describe it like that. Second, we have met. Last, my powers are 100% support-based. I need a boss, and I'd rather work for you than Supervillain."

"What are you going to do, make me cupcakes?"

"Sure. And pot pie. And buttermilk biscuits. And apple strudel. And--"

"How do you--"

Henchman cut the accusation short. "I know everyone of note's favorites. It was my job. Which was a pretty significant job if you ask me."

"You mildly boost powers, so what?"

"That's not..." Whatever. Henchman wasn't in the mood for convincing someone who obviously didn't want to be convinced. "Nutrition is actually a very critical part of an escape. It keeps you alert, energized, and happy. And anyway, I'm pretty sure I've spent more time being inconspicuous than you have, especially when Supervillain first took over the underbelly. I can help organize things. Give advice." He fiddled nervously with a string on his sleeve. He needed this. "Like...for example, you're going to want to trade out that car. It's nice and all but ultra-trackable. Pretty sure Supervillain has a way to hack cameras."

Villain pressed her lips together so tightly it looked painful. "Fine."

"To which part."

Villain waved her hand in the air and strode for the door. "Fine, you can come, and fine, we'll get a new car. But we're making a shopping run first. I left in a rush. So start thinking of things you need."

Henchman trotted grinning after her. “Flour, sugar, baking powder—”

"Not that. There will be no baking."

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated@just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful@cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindonessy @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @kurai-hono-blog

[allzelemonz]

Out: Slade Wilson & FTM Reader

Pronouns: he/him Physical Sex: AFAB Rating: T/Language Warnings: Mentor & protege, Reader is referred to as younger, Slade says trans rights, trans reader, ftm reader, transition process, fluff, Slade being nice for once, Ish is a hormone dealer but only for Slade’s kids and apprentices, themes around menstruation are not specific or graphic, background relationship: Ish/Joey Summary: You ran out of hormones, annoyingly causing your cycle to start up again, but you’re stuck on a mission with Slade. A/N: For those that don't know, '&' means platonic. But you can read it however you want, I was going for adoptive father-son vibes.

Your heart beats a little faster when you notice. Apparently letting yourself run out of hormones wasn’t as good of a call as you thought because now you have to deal with this. If you were at the compound it wouldn’t be a huge deal, Rose has shit you could steal, but out here on a job with Slade there’s not a lot of options. Toilet paper, sure, but that’s not ideal when you have a mission. For a while you just stare at the ground, hoping to will it away. But Slade’s knock on the bathroom door makes you jump.

“Hurry up, kid.”

You steele yourself, swallowing the bundle of nerves down and opening the door. Slade glares down at you, probably already regretting picking you from his pool of apprentices to bring along.

“The hell is wrong with you, kid?”

You clear your throat as your feet shift responsibility for your weight. “I, uh… I need something.”

“Well, out with it.”

You hesitate, trying to figure out how to explain. “I-I’m trans—“

“I know, brat.” He scoffs. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Bleeding.” Is all you can make your mouth get out.

Slade huffs, walking over to his bag. You watch from the doorframe, half expecting a knife to come at you. Instead he throws the menstrual product your way like a ninja star. You catch it, looking up at him utterly confused.

“I don’t know why you brats think you can’t tell me things.” He grumbles. “You ran out of hormones, didn’t you?”

You nod, a bit too confused by his reaction to this whole thing to speak. You didn’t even think he knew about the situation.

Slade just sighs, pulling out his phone. “That’s not good for you, kid. I’ll call Ish and tell we have another one.”

You stare at him for a moment as he types on his phone. “Another one?”

Slade raises a brow. “You think you’re the only one of my boys like this?” He chuckles, holding his phone up to his ear. “Might be the fifth.”

You watch Slade as he wanders, talking to Ish with the same disdain he always does now. Not that Ish is a bad guy, he’s pretty nice, but that stuff with Joey rubs Slade the wrong way. Still, he has to mind to call him up whenever he needs scientific help.

“He was on them, yeah.” Slade says into the phone. “No, Ish, why would I know that?” He scoffs at whatever Ish says in response. “I’m not the one fucking my nephew… he might as well be your blood, Ish… do you think the fact that you changed more of his diapers than I did makes you look better in this?”

You know this argument will go on for a while, so you slip into the bathroom with your bag and situate yourself, cleaning off the blood and changing things. When you come back out, Slade is listening intently to Ish.

“Five hours until the mark, yeah… Istanbul? What the hell are you doing in… no, I didn’t… fine, yeah, as long as we make the hit, I don’t give a shit… see you then.”

He tosses the phone onto his bed by his bag and looks up at you. “Feeling better?”

You nod. “Why’d you have to talk to Ish?”

“He can get hormones… surgery too, if you ever want that” Slade grumbles. “Lucky I like you, kid. Hate Ish.”

Something about that makes you smile. Slade sucks, no one denies that. But sometimes he doesn’t, sometimes he cares enough to make the brutality of training worthwhile.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Steve wants a red accent wall in their apartment and wants Bucky to pick out the shade of red. So, Bucky sets Steve up sitting against the wall, cock and balls exposed. He pulls up a spanking machine and line it up so that it’ll hit Steve’s balls square on.

He holds up a handful of red paint swatches. “The wall will be the color of your balls when you come just from having them smacked.” Steve gets a blindfold, and Bucky gets the remote control for the spanking machine.

Steve blushes real pretty whenever guests compliment their accent wall.

This has BIG "Blush Pink" by voluptuous_panic energy.

I LOVE your idea. I do! I love artist Steve, though, so my brain immediately was like, well, what if what actually happens is that Steve wants their home to look a particular way...

Steve has the eye for ✨️aesthetic✨️ He gets art. He has high. standards.

So, when he decides that their home needs an upgrade in the form of a feature wall (as is prominently boasted on many of the property renovation shows he watches as the easiest way to transform a space), Steve starts collecting swatches. He has hues of red in a near rainbow. Tints. Shades. Tones. All slightly different, so subtle that Steve and Bucky, with their enhanced vision and color vision especially, can only detect them. But, no matter what type of red Steve comes up with, asking Bucky his opinion...

Bucky looks at it for a moment, considering, before telling Steve, nah, I don't know, it's just not quite right. Something about it. Sorry, hun.

At first, Steve doesn't think too much of it. Sure, whatever, he's allowed to not like a color. Besides, it's their apartment, so the color needs to strike a balance--it needs to be every day, and it needs to be calming, not angry, but it needs to be intimate, too. Yet. Bucky is so, so suddenly particular. It's suspicious.

Slowly, it hits Steve.

Bucky has never in his life cared so much about a color before. He's complained about Steve's particular eye for color before, even. Moaning over, why can't you just settle on a couch already! C'mon, this one is fine! It's a nice color, a good blue, how does it clash with the carpet again? The neutral carpet. Huh? He's watched Steve mix colors for embarrassingly long periods of time and scoffed, Stevie, I think I just found out why you're crazy. You're spending too much fucking time chasing colors. What's wrong with what you have there? It's fine. That's great!

Why now?

What's his reasoning? What's the game he's playing?

Now, because, apparently, Bucky wants a feature wall to match the tender, swollen, and radiating heat stain that paints Steve's skin when he's stripped down by pain. His most vulnerable, when he's whimpering and gritting his teeth but still taking more--more even when the tears start to flow over and spill down his cheeks from glassy, blue eyes that reveal his perversions toward pain so salaciously. In Bucky's decided mind, the feature wall red has to match the agonizing-pleasure red of Steve's denied and tortured balls with splashes of complimentary hues. CBT carnelian red to go with... squirming embarrassed bubblegum pink, often gracing his high cheekbones, dusted down his neck and across his chest. Spanked raw watermelon pink, sprawled over the acres of normally unblemished, pale skin from his backside down his strong thighs. Sweet dusted rose pink nipples before they're bitten and teased and tugged into aching points of near-raw ruby. Even hints of face-fucked carnation red for his swollen, glistening, and used lips.

There's pieces of Steve when he's most debauched all throughout their home. Sprinkled, pieces fallen like petals from a rose, spread in anticipation for an intimate night... a night much more soft than anything Bucky and Steve would indulge in.

Still, the colors are only explicit and sensual to them; innocent and surprising to anyone else--two big, hulking men with an apartment that's a swirl of off-whites and cremes amidst pinks and reds like strawberry swirl ice cream. Sweet.

Not really.

Nothing could be less sweet than what Bucky's done, how he's incorporated Steve's pleasure into their space. It's devious.

The wall, of course--once Bucky has finally had enough swatches and taken enough photos of Steve's denied, aching balls, wearing him down to nothing but that single agonizing point of hungry flesh--is a proud red. But there's more. A scented candle or two in various pinks. Throw pillows and blankets. The abstracted art on the walls, reminiscent of sunsets and spilled rosé after a night off too much fun and side-splitting giggles. A vase sitting on the coffee table, larger, and a smaller one on the side table, holding the fresh flowers Natasha brings them when she visits.

Steve can't stand any compliment on their home with the updates. Anything and everything makes him blush like crazy because it all reminds him of the way Bucky breaks him. Especially that fucking wall, though. Jesus Christ. You wouldn't believe all that's been done to him to get those colors just so.

Torture. Exquisite torture that bleeds through him like white-hot electricity, shocking his muscles and leaving him to convulse. It's incredible. No one treats him like Bucky treats him. Bucky's rough and good and doesn't stop until Steve has forgotten his own name three times over.

Guh.

Steve's gonna stop fucking inviting people over. It's for the best anyway, with fewer people wandering in and less time spent on hosting, there will be much more time for sex on the couch, against that damn wall, or, hell, pressed to the window, maybe even shoving the coffee table out of the way to be taken on the floor, Bucky's hips hitting his ass until Steve's backside matches the throw pillows on the couch and he's painting the floor white, totally untouched and screaming. Without guests, Bucky can take him apart in their living room and ruin their nice, homey décor with suspicious stains and helpless rips and more.

[murdockparker]

Foolish Endeavor - Part 7

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Anthony confronts Reader and Benedict in his study. Benedict has a proposal for his beloved.

Word Count: 7.1k 

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI (I will haunt you) 

Warnings: SMUT, mentions of pregnancy, soft tooth-rotting fluff per usual

A/N: I’m back with an update!! The smut is... well it is what it is. It’s what I was so caught up on this chapter and gave me the worst writers block. Anyway, enjoy the long(ish) chapter!

first part - previous part - next part

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“Well?”

It was the first time Anthony had spoken in the twenty minutes they had spent in his study, his arms crossed and body leaned up against his desk. After a seemingly uneventful dinner—to the rest of the group, anyway—Anthony called upon Benedict and (Y/N) to meet with him privately to discuss certain… revelations he had made that evening. The nerves wracked her to her core, trying to convince herself that there was little to no way that Anthony Bridgerton could have put all of the pieces together—she was courting an artist, after all, it was only natural that paint would adorn her clothing too, no? 

“Brother, I thought we were to have a night cap, yet you pull Lady (Y/N) into this—” 

“Oh, trust that I will be drinking, Benedict,” Anthony said quickly, turning to his glass decanter and pouring a rather healthy glass. “I would offer you a glass, but I have the strongest feeling I’ll be needing most of this.”

“Well, now you’re just being dramatic,” Benedict scoffed as he grabbed a spare glass, holding it out for Anthony to fill. His brother only glanced at the empty crystal cup before setting the decanter back down onto his desk. 

“If you were planning to have a chat, I can retire for the evening,” she offered quietly. Both Bridgerton brothers turned their attention onto the girl, each staring at her with a different velocity; Anthony in a way that said ‘no chance in hell you’re getting out of this’, Benedict’s gaze more telling of ‘don’t you leave me here alone with him’. So, she stayed, her toes digging into the ornate carpet. 

“I must say Lady (Y/N),” Anthony swirled his glass, “you’re hardly the messy type.”

“I’ve been known to be clumsy from time to time,” she countered, “mess usually accompanies such a thing.”

“This is true,” Anthony nodded, “why, for instance, Benedict was rather clumsy today. Spilled paint all over himself and had to take a rather long bath to get the mess off, did you not, Benedict?”

Benedict moved his head a fraction of an inch, a hardly noticeable nod to his brother’s question. He knew exactly where this conversation was headed. 

“Oh? Is that so?” She tried to play dumb, hoping that it would stick. “Is that why you weren’t there to greet me when I arrived today?”

Again, Benedict nodded mutely, taking a small sip of the whiskey he had poured for himself—no thanks to Anthony. 

“You two should never apply yourselves to the theatre,” Anthony groaned, downing his glass in one go, “both terrible actors, the lot of you.”

“I… I don’t think I understand what you’re implying Anthony?”

“You’re a bright lady,” he mused, setting the now empty glass onto his desk, “you surely cannot be that thick, to not know what I’m alluding to, no?”

“No,” (Y/N) crossed her arms, “I want you to say it.”

“I—what?”

“Say it,” she repeated, “surely if you’re going to accuse Benedict and I of anything improper you have the courage to admit it yourself instead of hoping one of us will loosen our lips and spill something you dread to hear—if that is to be the case, of course.”

“Fine,” Anthony huffed. His posture stiffened, nearly growing an inch from his straight back—he needed to look intimidating and imposing. “You have paint on your dress—a new one apparently, the countess admitted—seemingly the same paint as our lovely Benedict was dressed in earlier this afternoon.”

“I’ve been known to wear paint from time to time, especially since Benedict and I have begun our courtship—” 

“Which would normally be the case,” Anthony rose his free hand, silencing the girl in lilac, “but I must say, Benedict, when we had our chat earlier, I had noticed something… odd.”

“Odd? Other than the fact you decided to have the chat whilst I was in the tub?” He crossed his arms decidedly, trying to have a leg up in the conversation. By the look of Anthony’s steely demeanor, it wasn’t working. 

“Now, I have no proof of such an accusation,” Anthony began, softening the blow of sorts, “but I could have sworn I heard something else—someone else—in the washroom with us. A breath, perhaps, behind the door. Not to mention a peculiar water trail leading to the very spot.”

“The estate is old, brother,” Benedict sighed, “the house settles, floorboards creak, honestly it’s a wonder that you even came to such a conclusion—”

“Whatever the case might have been,” Anthony held his hand up, “I know the two of you were alone in some capacity today, washroom or not, the two of you are courting now. I know that the both of you are wise enough to know that being without a chaperone is highly improper and if you were alone in the washroom—”

“Anthony, you must take a breath, you look akin to a tomato,” she gently suggested. He listened, gently following her words. “Now, as you said, you have no proof of such an accusation?”

Anthony nodded hesitantly, his nostrils flaring. He obviously had no intention of admitting such a thing, but the liquor clouded his judgment.

“So there is no ground to accuse Benedict or I on such a matter,” she said simply. “Even if we were together alone, it couldn’t be the most improper thing to come of this family, would it?”

The viscount opened his mouth quickly, hoping to get a word in before Benedict cut him off. “She makes an excellent point, brother,” he hummed, “why must you meddle in our courtship? Don’t you have the Sharmas to woo this week?”

“My plans for this week are none of your concern, brother.”

“I would highly disagree, considering the lovely Miss Edwina is rightly whom you plan to make the next viscountess, leading her to be the next woman of the house, is that not right?”

“I feel now as if I am intruding on a conversation that does not warrant my involvement—”

“A disagreement to that too,” Benedict nodded at the woman beside him. “Considering you are very well likely to be a part of this family someday.”

She could feel the heat creep up her neck, the color evidently rising to the tips of her ears, too. “O-oh, well,” she mumbled, clearly taken aback, “I don’t think that—even if that were the case to be made—Benedict—”

“Christ, Benedict, you’ve nearly melted the poor girl’s brain—being so brazen about your intentions,” Anthony rolled his eyes. “Do you have no shame?”

“At least I am fixed on my feelings for Lady (Y/N),” Benedict said, his demeanor still and unwavering. He looked akin to a painting in this manner, in this lighting, only the few candles that lit up the rather spacious study illuminated his features. If she had any artistic bone in her body, she’d try her hand at sketching the sight—to document this moment into something greater than a memory. “She is very well aware of my intent to marry her, if she wasn’t…I suppose she is now.”

“Are you saying I do not feel such an inkling for Miss Sharma?” 

“Take it for what it is, brother,” Benedict said solemnly, “the truth.”    

“But,” (Y/N) nearly squeaked, gathering the attention of both Bridgertons, “that is not to say that you cannot garner that sort of affection for her in the upcoming week, or even lifetime, is that not true?”

“There is no need for me to gather any feelings or fool myself into loving Miss Sharma,” Anthony said simply, “love is not a requirement in my marriage—in fact, I would greatly prefer it to be without.”

“That’s…” she was at a loss for words. Lady (Y/N) knew of the viscount’s barbaric view on marriage—on not needing a love match to find a bride—but to hear it herself? To really chew on his words? “Anthony.”

“Well,” Anthony stood from his desk, his hands shuffling a stack of papers to the side, “I feel as if we’ve talked about as much as I’d wish to this evening—as unhelpful or untruthful as some of it may have been.”

“Oh, come now, Anthony,” Benedict scoffed, “you can’t be getting offended of the truth—”

“There is no offense,” he assured soundly. “The spirits have simply done what they needed to and I find myself in desperate need of sleep.” With a quick tug of his coat sleeves, readjusting their length, he turned to the lady in lilac. “In the sake of what the truth may be or might have been this afternoon, do use your best judgment going forward—I do not wish to know of any scandal between the two of you, Daphne’s season was quite enough.”

“Of course, Lord Bridgerton,” she curtsied, tipping her head down, “I wouldn’t wish soiling your great family name, nor my own.” Benedict bit back a grin, his laughter kept neatly at bay—Anthony seemingly too tired to gather her rather obvious sarcasm.

“And Benedict,” he turned to his younger brother, “If you are so keen on a proposal to Lady (Y/N), I suggest making that formality sooner than later, lest any word gets out before such a matter can occur.”

“Of course.”

“Now, I suggest we all retire for the evening,” Anthony nearly yawned, “Lady (Y/N), I’d be pleased to have our staff escort you to your room.”

“Oh, I know my way to the guest chambers, there’s no need—”

“I insist,” he nearly seethed. 

“Well,” she turned to Benedict slowly, “I bid you a goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he nodded, glancing back to his brother, “I think I’ll enjoy another drink before retiring for the eve—should you let me, of course.”

“Yes, very well, I’ll insure it is replaced it in the morning.” Both Anthony and (Y/N) left the study, turning separate ways down the hall, leaving Benedict to contemplate silently in the oak room, nearly mulling over the options set before him. 

—

“Lady (Y/N), you look rather exhausted,” Agnes, her lady’s maid noted quietly as she undid the loops of the lilac fabric. “Should I run you a bath?”

“No, Agnes, I don’t think that’s necessary,” she hummed as she watched the gown drop to the floor. “I think I am just in need of a good sleep, the traveling really drained me.”

“Did your afternoon nap not suffice your exhaustion, my lady?”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled into a tight line. “No, I’m afraid not.” Pin by pin, Agnes pulled her hair down from its skilled design, put in by the very same woman earlier that day before the travel out to the country. The maid simply kept her mouth shut and on the fact her hair seemed untouched by sleep, nearly still perfect from the morn. “I find that naps really don’t serve me well as of late, it seems.”

“Perhaps some tea will help?” Agnes offered, placing the pins in a bowl beside her. “I can go fetch a pot if it will suit your needs.”

“No,” (Y/N) yawned, “that is quite alright.” Her lady’s maid placed a simple nightgown on the chair next to the vanity, one of many that had been packed for the trip to Aubrey Hall. “I can dress myself for bed at this time, thank you Agnes.”

Agnes nodded, bowing lightly. “Of course, my lady. Have a restful sleep, I’ll awake you in the morning.”

Not even a moment after her lady’s maid exited her chambers, (Y/N) pulled on the night frock haphazardly—she was never skilled at finding the arm holes in such a manner—and practically ran over to the candle on the vanity. It was a rather impractical shape, she couldn’t walk through the dark halls of Aubrey Hall with this particular candle, she’d have to find a different candlestick. Beside her bed, she could’ve recalled, was a rather ornate brass holder—with a convenient loop for her walking needs. 

“I could probably forego a candle,” she muttered quietly. “Make my way back without…”

Her eyes met her own in the mirror on the vanity—she did look exhausted, dark and purpling circles making their presence faintly aware under her eyes. Was she mad in trying to find Benedict again? With how she abruptly left the study—with how he decided to stay behind—he was expecting her to come back, right? She could always feign innocence if she were caught by the staff, claim she needed a midnight snack or something of the sort. 

Lady (Y/N) thought it best to leave the candle after all, the halls couldn’t have been darker than the ones at their Tonbridge estate—hardly any windows lined the walls. She would be fine and make do, allowing and trusting her eyes to adjust properly. With a nervous rake of her hand through her hair, she allowed herself to take a deep breath before pushing open the ornate door to the hall.

An immediate right, a left at the vase with painted roses, three doors down to the stairs, a right and another left. 

She quietly repeated the pattern as she went—afraid she’d miss the vase or possibly take a wrong turn. But, the insistence paid off, she made it to the viscount’s study—candle light still visible from under the door. A soft knock was all it took for Benedict to answer, his posture softening at the sight of the lady in the hall.

“I knew you’d make your way back,” he murmured, ushering her into the study. 

“And leave you to drink on your own?” (Y/N) smiled, walking over to the desk and eyeing the decanter. “May I?”

“By all means,” he nearly laughed, pointing to the empty glass. “Though, I do wish you’re here for more than just a free drink.”

“Well,” she filled her glass hesitantly, “your brother does have a fantastic taste in his liquor. But, you’d be right. I thought it would be best if we were to chat about… well, everything?”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” 

“I do not think we have enough hours in a day to discuss everything,” Benedict smirked. “But, if you wish to discuss the events of this afternoon—”

“This afternoon, yes,” she nodded quickly. “That would be a good place to start. Are you sure Anthony has gone to bed?”

“We shouldn’t have anyone bothering us,” Benedict assured her. “But, just for good measure…” 

He locked the door—the only way into the study. 

“It would be a shame if he were to intrude yet again,” she hummed in thought, enjoying yet another sip of the brown drink in her hand. “The viscount is awfully good at that, so it seems.”

“Always has been,” Benedict nodded, “even in our youth.”

“I can imagine…” she trailed off, her attention focused solely on the bookshelves that lined the walls behind him. Ledgers and texts on the estate, mostly. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean—”

“What you said to Anthony,” she clarified, coughing lightly. “Earlier… in here.”

“About...?” he inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring ever so slightly. “Oh. Of course you’d want clarification—”

“No clarification,” she held up her hand, “you were clearer than crystal with your words. I just wish to know if you meant them—if you were honest and truthful to your brother about your intentions with me. Us.”

“Am I usually taken as a man who is untruthful?” Benedict mused, finally finishing his drink. He chose not to pour another. “I would’ve preferred to have had a conversation with you privately on the matter—I was planning to do such on a promenade tomorrow—but Anthony forced my hand. I hope it wasn’t an unwelcome thought.”

“Benedict,” she nearly melted with her words, “we are courting—the intent usually is to wed—I wouldn’t expect you to think anything less of our courtship.”

“So it is suffice to say you feel the same?”

She took another swig of the liquor in her glass—it was likely whiskey, she only guessed, having little expertise in different liquor types. “I never wished to be married,” she said honestly, “but as an only child—only daughter—it’s my duty to do such a thing.”

“So you would only marry out of duty?” Benedict nearly felt his heart shatter. “For no other reason at all?”

“You’ve known me for a long time, Benedict,” she sighed, “we’ve frequently discussed my distaste for marriage, touching on your similar feelings on the matter.”

“Feelings change,” he said bluntly.

“They do,” she agreed, finishing her glass. “However, I don’t believe you allowed me to finish my thought—”

“Do you not wish to be wed?” Benedict stood up from the desk, tall and proud. “From my understanding of this conversation, it’s clear to me that you don’t foresee a marriage between us—not one deriving from anything but a duty you have to your family, is that not correct?”

“Christ, Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed humorlessly, “how much have you had to drink before I arrived?”

They both looked at the decanter—it had been suspiciously more drained than she expected it to be.

“I’m not a drunkard,” he pointed. “I simply enjoyed a few drinks on my brother’s behalf—”

“Did I call you a drunkard?”

“You implied.”

“No,” she spat, “I was merely trying to find a reason to why you’ve been rudely cutting me off. You’ve been jumping to wild conclusions without even allowing me the decency to explain myself. I care little about your drinking habits.”

“Oh,” he slumped, “I didn’t realize—”

“Now,” she took a step closer to him, “if you wouldn’t mind.” She waited a moment, allowing the silence to fill the room entirely before continuing her thought.

“You have to understand that I have gone practically my entire life wishing to live a life of solitude, not to have a husband to own my every waking moment the rest of my days,” she paused, looking down at her nightgown. The disappointment was practically radiating from him across the small space—it was almost drowning. “But, you also have to understand that I have been the happiest I have ever been since our courtship begun, Benedict. While I’m still hesitant on the idea of marriage, if we were to wed, it would not be a marriage of duty.”

She took a deep breath.

“It would be one of love,” she nearly stood beneath him, staring at him intensely. The three damning words were hanging on the tip of her tongue—daring to spill, but never escaping.

“You… love me.”

“I do,” she nodded, “I think I always have, really—loved you, I mean.”

The grand clock in the study ticked away.

“I-I don’t know what to say—”

“One usually says it back, should it be reciprocated, of course,” she teased, her voice shaking ever so slightly. He couldn’t have noticed, not even if he tried.

“Darling,” he grabbed her hands, “I don’t believe there are even words in the English language that exist to express just how deeply I feel for you. If I were a poet, I wouldn’t be able to scribe a sonnet nor haiku, if I were a musician, I couldn’t bring myself to string any symphony to even remotely compare to just how much I love you.”

He nearly believed she didn’t hear him with how still she stood. “I love you,” he repeated, hoping it to stick.

She blinked back tears. “I-I heard you,” she sniffled, “you say all of that as if you are no poet.”

“Well, it certainly was no sonnet,” a wet chuckle escaped his lips—when had he teared up?

“Better than Byron, then.”

“You wound me, my love,” he scoffed, “my bum can make better poetry than Byron.”

“Benedict?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

He hadn’t the need to be asked twice. 

Benedict reached down to grab her face, gently, oh-so-gently bringing his lips to hers. She tasted of the same whiskey he had been remedying for the better part of the evening, the sour twinge of alcohol only adding to his passion. (Y/N) had moved her hands to his chest, gripping his shirt with everything she had—he was everything she had—afraid to even part for a fraction of a second.

“God, I love you,” he mumbled into the kiss, pulling his arms around her tightly. She gasped at his grip around her waist, the breath nearly escaping her lungs—their lips never fully parting from one another. “I love this dress.”

“It is nothing extraordinary,” she nearly groaned, reluctant to pull away from him, “a rather simple nightgown.”

“Oh but this is far from simple,” he mused, peppering kisses on her face—down to her neck. “Why,” another kiss, “I rather love this neckline.”

“It’s a bit risqué, is it not?” She moved her head to the side, allowing Benedict better access to the skin that resided there. “Mother always said it was a bit much.”

“No,” he determined, paying close attention to her exposed collarbone, “it is quite enough for my needs.”

“Is it?” 

“Now that you mention it,” Benedict stopped his ministrations on her neck, looking deeply into her eyes—his own blown out with lust, “it might be too much.”

“T-too much?” 

“Too much,” he agreed, fingers dancing up her back, “fabric.”

Her breath hitched.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he said seriously, “and I would never want to do anything to you without your explicit consent—but you’ve made it terribly difficult to keep my wits about me.”

“If,” she swallowed hesitantly, “you believe it is too much fabric… perhaps you are correct.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I want this, Benedict,” she placed a hand on his chest—right above his heart, “I want you, Benedict.”

“You have had me, my love,” he smiled brightly, placing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, “you have had me for as long as you’ve known me—I’m yours.”

“Please, Benedict,” she mewled. 

A low chuckle emanated from his chest, eyes checking the door once more, to insure it was locked. “You do understand what you are asking of me—if anyone were to find out—”

“I don’t care,” she pulled him in and closed the gap once more, hungrily clashing her lips against his own. With a quick spin Benedict had her pinned to the edge of the oak desk, a hand on her waist and another on her jaw—kissing her as if his life depended on it. In a way, it did. Her hands made quick work of his shirt, undoing the few ties it had. Her fingers were quickly met with a dusting of dark hair—she couldn’t decide if it was merely the low lighting or a trick of her eyes, but the hair on his chest seemed darker than the hair on his head.

“I suppose,” he popped, licking her bottom lip, “you did not get a chance to see my chest in earnest earlier today?”

(Y/N) shook her head.

“Well,” Benedict shrugged his shirt off, “take all the time you need, my love.”

“That,” she pressed another kiss to his jaw, “won’t be necessary. I was merely admiring you for the moment.”

“Is that right?”

She hummed in response, her lips not leaving his skin—not if she could help it. Her own shoulders rolled hesitantly, almost afraid to ask for what she truly wanted. Benedict, being ever observant, gently tugged the ribbon on the front of her frock, loosening the fabric from her skin. Not entirely, but just enough to keep her satiated.

“Do you not wish to admire me more?”

(Y/N) looked up at him through her lashes. “I wish to do all that and more, Benedict Bridgerton. I plan to admire you for as long as you’d allow.”

“Funny,” a low chuckle escaped him, “I was about to say the same thing.”

With a wordless nod, Benedict slowly pushed the nightgown off of her shoulder, allowing the creme fabric hang from her form—the top of her breast peeking out of the opening. Her skin looked softer than the finest of silks, it looked practically kissable.

“What’re you—oh!”

He really didn’t plan on startling her in such a way, but he had admitted that his wits were going to be hard to keep about himself this evening. Suckling on the newly exposed skin on her chest wasn’t what he exactly imagined the night would turn to, but with the way she moaned—Christ how she moaned—it was seemingly just as pleasurable to her as it was to him, so it wasn’t a terrible turn of events.

“That feels…” her hand wriggled itself into his hair, feeling his lips capture more of her skin on her breast—he was sucking lightly, enough to where it didn’t feel painful, but the sensation alone lit a fire in her body.

“If you think,” Benedict looked up at her through the curls that fell in his face, “that feels good, just you wait, my love.”

He palmed her breast through her dress—as thin as the material was, he knew it would be even better if he were able to just… rip it off. But, he was still a gentleman, so he had to hold himself to a better standard—that, and the thought of her trying to explain to her lady’s maid how exactly her nightgown came to such a state was just too horrifying. So, he had to settle for the ribbon on the front to loosen the fabric. Like a waterfall, the dress accumulated onto the ornate rug beneath them, pooling at her feet. What once felt like a burning heat, the air of the room suddenly chilled her to the bone—her state of undress becoming more apparent.

“You are…” He managed to pull himself away, just for the moment, to fully drink her form in. “Simply exquisite.”

If her body hadn’t been on fire before, the simple act of his hands on her lit a flame inside, one only his touch could extinguish. She nearly expected to feel bashful for him to see her this way, her entire top exposed for the world to see—exposed for her world to see, anyway.

“I’m no more exquisite than the models at the academy,” she said breathlessly.

“You’re right,” Benedict hummed, pressing kisses from her jaw to her collarbone, “you’re unequivocally more so.”

She gasped at his lips on her breast, finally reaching the destination he had in mind. It was a strange feeling, the suckling on her hardened nipple, but the warmth that bubbled from the source to her core was intoxicating. “I didn’t…” Another gasp. “I didn’t realize one could—besides nursing babes, that is…”

Benedict released the skin from his lips, grinning like a cat upwards at his lover. “I think you’ll find nearly everything this evening to be just as surprising, my dear.”

And his words rang true. With a fell swoop, he hoisted her up onto his brother’s desk, her behind was like coals against ice on the countertop. It was a feat, to try and not make a mess of Anthony’s things, but in the end, the couple simply couldn’t have given it a second thought, especially when Benedict’s mouth was at her core. A forbidden kiss, he had mumbled.

“Oh Benedict,” she moaned quietly, suddenly remembering where they were at. The kitten licks against her dripping wet cunt was nearly too much to bear. 

Benedict slurped up her wetness, licking his glistening lips before responding. “No need to be quiet, my dear. If my family hears us, it is all the more reason for us to be wed.” The idea alone nearly sent her over the edge. It seemed that this evening was a true awakening of quite a few things for the earl’s daughter. 

“There has to be more than this,” (Y/N) said, pulling her love upwards from her legs, stealing a searing kiss from his lips. “I know there’s to be more than this.”

He laughed lightly, pressing another kiss against her hot mouth. “In my many nights dreaming of this moment, I don’t think the thought of taking you for the first time on my brother’s desk was one of the fantasies.”

“You’ve thought of this?”

“Of course,” he purred, pressing his forehead against her own. “They normally happened in my studio, during a portrait session. I dreamed of the day you’d commission one from me and, well…” His face grew red at the memory, many a night had he spent himself into his hand at the idea of having her—taking her for the first time. “I’m afraid if I think too terribly much of it again I may not last very long.”

“Last?” Her brow quirked up in confusion. “Can you not continue to go as long as you’d like?”

Benedict barked out a laugh before realizing she was dead serious. He had to remember that she was new to all of this, a virgin to such an act. “Trust that you will be satisfied, my love, but  no, most men cannot last as long as they’d like to, especially in the presence of the most alluring of women.”

“And the women? Do they last as long as they’d like?”

He huffed, trying to find the words to describe exactly what the experience was like. “My love, rest assured that you’ll last as long—if not longer—than you’d like while I’m with you. I will continue to please you until I take my last breath.”

“How chivalrous,” she teased, feeling his hand snake back down to her dripping cunt. His fingers danced across her entrance, feather-light touches tickling the center. “You don’t think that they’ll…?”

“Fit?” Benedict snickered lovingly, gently pressing a digit into her core. The tightness nearly sent him over the edge—the idea of her warmth wrapped around him like this was nearly too much. “I think you’ll adjust fine, my love. Though, it may be a bit painful the first time.”

She gasped for air, feeling him wriggle his finger in a hooking motion, touching a spot she hardly knew existed. “Painful? I can’t imagine anything like this to be—”

It was in that moment that Benedict Bridgerton snuck a second finger inside of her, working them both up to a leisurely and pleasurable pace. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, nor jump into the main event without thoroughly working her up to it—it was simply a barbaric thing to even think about. He knew that if he were to sheath himself inside of her in this moment, she’d be ready, but something inside of him was nagging him to finish her off before he did such a thing. “My love, would you like my mouth on you again?”

Her eyes shot open—when did she shut them? “And stop what you’re doing?”  

He kissed her gently, smirking at her genuine response. “I never said that, my dear.”

Benedict sunk back down to her core, only removing his fingers for a moment to readjust himself. He licked his lips hungrily before diving back into the wetness, slurping up any dripping he could find. Idly, he wondered if any of his brother’s paperwork would need to be burned, having his love make a mess over most of his counter. “You taste so sweet, my sun.”

She bit back a scream when his fingers re-entered her at a frivolous pace. He was working towards something, and she knew it, with the unrelenting movements he was making? The suckling and little swipes on her clit? He was merely a carpenter, building and building to completion. The joined sensations of his fingers hooking inside of her, reaching that spongey spot and his tongue against her hardened nub was nearly too much. A blinding hot feeling grew exponentially in her core, threatening to spill out. “Benedict, you must stop, I feel—”

He didn’t stop, not with the way her words were cut off with a delicious moan. “You’re nearly there, my love. Cum for me, let yourself go.”

The blinding heat turned to white, her vision growing bleary with pleasure. She felt it, the snapping of a band, the release he was begging for, it felt like the practical energy from her body was being drawn out in a single moment. Coming down from her high, she felt like she had been running for hours, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest. “That… what was that?”

“Something you’ll get to know very well with me, my sun,” Benedict smirked, rising up to kiss her sweetly. He thought she’d be revolted by her own slick against his lips, most women he had the pleasure of being with were, but she fervently kissed him back. “What do you say we work together for another one?”

“Another… you can do that again?”

“And again,” Benedict kissed her lips. “And again.”

“Do you ever get to feel that? That release?”

He only nodded, knowing how serious of a question it was. “I do. I’d like to feel that with you, if you’d let me.”

“Please,” she smiled softly. “Show me.” His hands snaked to his trousers, pulling the fabric down enough for his hard cock to spring forward. It was daunting, to see such a thing for the first time. Of course, she had seen at least the idea of what it would look like in oil paintings and sculptures by the greats—nothing quite similar in size or shape, however. “Oh… wow.”

Benedict tried to not let her comment go right to his head, but he knew the effect his cock had on women—usually stunned speechless—so this was hardly any different. No, it was different. This was the woman of his affections, the woman who he will have the pleasure of bedding for the rest of his days, should she agree to it. “Don’t worry about it, my love,” Benedict said, nearly reading her mind. “As I said before it may hurt for only a moment or two, but you’ll certainly be begging for more.”

“A bit full of yourself, are we?” (Y/N) teased, trying to feel more grounded.

Benedict chuckled. “Usually am, my dearest.” He moved between her legs, feeling them open voluntarily against him. He wanted to make this perfect for her, to insure she’d have a pleasant experience to look forward to the next time they join together. Tentatively, he stroked his cock against her slick folds, feeling the way she shuddered against him.

“Oh!” (Y/N) yelped, feeling him enter her slowly. The sensation wasn’t as unpleasant as Benedict made it out to be, but when he pushed only a fraction deeper, she felt the sting. True to his word, it only lasted for a moment. 

“I know we have,” Benedict groaned, feeling her tight around him. “Joked, in the past about me ruining you. But I’m afraid for it now to be true.”

“I was always yours to ruin, Benedict.”

He couldn’t help himself from moving, not after her declaration. She yelped again, feeling the pain melt and shape itself into the pleasure she had been yearning for. Benedicts movements were slow to start, he was nearly beside himself at the restraint he had in the moment, to not completely overwhelm her right away. Within an instant, her arms wrapped around his neck, allowing her to hold herself up closer to him. She could practically feel his shallow breaths against her skin, he was having a hard time keeping his wits about him.

“You feel,” Benedict breathed deeply, “enchanting, my sun.” 

“And you feel—” she groaned, the pain only now subsiding.

Benedict shushed her with a kiss, passionately meeting in the middle of his paced thrusts. He kept a steady tempo, waning and waxing with the small movements from his beloved, urging him to continue on—for as long as he could anyway. “My love, I’m afraid you make me feel like a green sixteen, I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

“I make you feel that way?”

“I’m afraid so,” Benedict laughed. “Christ, you’re so tight.”

A part of her should be flattered, she assumed, by Benedict’s comment. Another part of her felt nearly disappointed that this tryst would be over before either of them would like. It was only then Benedict pressed his fingers carefully against her still-sensitive clit, gently massaging it into precious circles. Her vision went hazy, her legs nearly becoming marmalade.

“If I am to finish, I promised I’d take you with me,” he huffed, rutting into her harder. “And I never go back on a promise.”

She nodded in agreement, mind lost to the pleasure of it all. Idly, (Y/N) wondered why she had heard whispers from wives and her maids on how uncomfortable the marital act was, seeing as it was nearly not even close to the sort. Not in her experience anyway. Perhaps it was dependent on the person? The passion between the couple? She knew in her heart of hearts that Benedict and her shared a deep understanding, trust and love. Perhaps that is what truly mattered after all.

“Benedict, if you keep doing that—oh!”

“Yes my love, get closer for me, I’m nearly there,” he grunted, angling his hips up just a fraction more—his beloved moaned at the new contact. Her legs instinctually wrapped around his waist, caging him in and keeping him close. Whatever was to happen next, she wanted him as close to her as possible, to share their combined release together. “I think, Christ, I’m going to cum, my sun.”

“C-cum for me,” (Y/N) cried, feeling that same white pleasure take over her body, the source coming right from her core. He hadn’t the need to be asked twice, Benedict began to cum directly inside of her—something he hadn’t had the plan on doing, but it thrilled him all the same. Had he thought about it too long, he may just rise to the occasion and be ready to go yet again.

“I—my love, I am sorry,” Benedict began, finally cooling down from his high. “I didn’t mean to… inside.”

(Y/N) blinked up at him, trying to fight the daze she was currently in. “Are you not supposed to? It felt good enough.”

Benedict reluctantly pulled out of her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s not that I am not supposed to, quite frankly that is the whole point of this, but I’m afraid it is something I was trying to avoid.”

“How do you mean?”

“Do you know how a woman becomes with child, (Y/N)?”

“Of course,” she laughed nervously. “I’m not as green as you—oh. So, if you didn’t cum inside of me…?”

“Because I did I fear you have the chance of becoming pregnant, yes,” Benedict sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It is not… the most unsavory thought.”

“No,” she hummed in agreement. “I suppose it’s not. Though I’m sure if I were to be with child, it would be best if we were wed, a plan I’m sure you already have in place, no?”

Benedict chuckled at her honesty. “Of course I do. I would not have taken you on my brother’s desk had I no plan for such matters. In the end, I reckon it doesn’t matter, permitting your agreement to the engagement.”

She sighed happily, still coming down from her post-sex high. “Of course I agree, you simply need to ask properly.” 

“I will get right on that,” Benedict smiled.

“Your brother’s desk…” (Y/N) pointed, pulling her discarded dress back onto her shoulders. She looked and felt disheveled, something she had a feeling she’d get used to, having a life with Benedict Bridgerton. 

“We can burn whatever we may have… soiled,” Benedict snickered, pulling his own clothes back on and in a mostly proper manner. “I’m sure he did not leave anything of great importance just out and about.”

(Y/N) nodded, trying to read the dirtied papers she had sat on—most of the sheets were old ledgers or testing blots from Anthony’s quill. She made quick movement to throw them into the dwindling fire across the room. It was nearly just to the coals, not having been stoked in quite some time, but the papers caught the heat quickly and disappeared into the cinders. “Benedict?”

“I’m sure they weren’t important,” he waved, trying to pull his trousers back up. “Anthony won’t miss them.”

“No, it’s not that,” (Y/N) shook her head, something clearly on her mind. “Earlier, when you… well, when we were together, you called me your sun.”

Benedict paused, turning to look at his beloved, a halo of warmth radiated from the dying fire behind her. She looked ethereal. “Yes,” he said simply. “You are, in the simplest of ideas, the very center of my world, the thing I cannot fathom to function without. In a way, I have always rotated around you, my love, around your life to be near you and with you. For you are my sun,” he grabbed her hands lightly, “the light and love of my life.”

Tears dotted her eyes. “I should’ve known you’d say something beautiful,” she sniffled. “Now I seem a fool for not having a term of endearment as lovely for you.”

“‘Love’ works just for me,” he chuckled. 

She thought for a moment, feeling his hand smoothing her hair against her head lovingly. “Well, if I am to be your sun, you must be my moon.”

“Your moon,” he repeated. 

“Lighting the way in the darkest of hours, gentle, constant,” she said thoughtfully. “A-and because I think it’s rather endearing to have matching… endearments.”

His face practically glowed with joy, a smile rivaling the very moonlight she had mentioned grew across his lips. “You, Lady (Y/N) are my sun and I am your moon. I simply cannot think of anything more perfect.”

“Neither can I,” she smiled, leaning into his touch. He took the opportunity to guide her lips to his own in a featherlight kiss, an ending note to leave the night on. “I should sneak back to my quarters before anyone notices, I suppose.”

Benedict groaned softly. “I suppose you must.”

“Do not fret, my moon,” she said, the term flowing easily from her tongue, “we have tomorrow and a world of tomorrows awaiting us.”

“A world of tomorrows… yes, I think you’re quite right.”

She smiled sweetly. “Should I be expecting your company tomorrow?” Benedict nodded once, his grin not wavering from his face. “Goodnight,” she said quietly, curtsying teasingly before opening the door. Benedict quickly made is way behind her, his breath hot against her ear. 

“Do wear your best dress, my love, I suspect tomorrow’s events will call for only the finest.” 

She nearly ran up the stairs to wish for sleep to come over her—bringing tomorrow faster to today. 

__

TAGLIST

@nikkisilassheep, @cavghtbythewind, @chaotic-onigiri, @440mxs-wife , @mymyma , @perdynerd , @wotcherboo , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @babyhoneystvles , @korol-lantsov , @riddlerloveb0t 

[mischiefmaker615]

Ghost (Loki Love Story) Ch.8

“it’s open!’’ you call, pressing your back more against the closet door as Loki’s shoe could be heard tapping from the inside.

‘’this is ridiculous-‘’

‘’we need to break it to him slowly, with you out of sight.’’ You hiss as Steve opens the door with a grin and closes the door behind him.

‘’I’m so glad you’re feeling better- how’s the arm?’’ he asks, crossing the living room and gives you a gentle hug, you eagerly returning it as you felt yourself relax with a friendly presence.

‘’should be fine in the next day or two, thank you so much for coming..’’ you smile sheepishly, ignoring his slight raised brow at how you stayed in your place.

‘’of course, at any time.. what was it that you needed?’’ he started, looking around as if he could find the result himself as you shifted in place nervously.

‘’well Steve.. I need to tell you something- the day the museum fight happened.. how this happened,’’ you indicated to your arm and bit your lip as he turned back at you with a concerned look on his face.

It didn’t help that he was wearing the same shirt as Loki- making this even more awkward as you thought about stalling to prevent the soon to be events from happening but you knew this situation needed to get over with- especially when Steve’s eyes just noticed what you were wearing, making your eyes trail off to stop your cheeks from reddening.

‘’..well apparently some of my blood got onto Loki’s attire..’’

Steve raised a brow and shook his head ‘’everything’s been cleaned and fixed over there- expenses won’t come out of your-‘’

‘’apparently he rose from the dead-‘’ you blurted out, failing to find a proper way to explain it better and this had his expression deadpan.

‘’..Y/N don’t be ridiculous.. he’s tricked us multiple times before but we know for certain this time he’s definitely-‘’

‘’not dead.. when I woke up here.. he was here.. is..’’ your speech broke as your eyes slowly moved back to his whose slowly began to look serious and his body stiffened.

‘’Y/N that’s.. that’s impossible..’’ he says as his eyes slowly pass yours to gaze at the closet door behind you.

‘’I need your help Steve, he’s not supposed to be here-‘’ your words cut off as he suddenly takes your hand and pulls you forward.

‘’Y/N if what you’re saying is true you should have called me sooner- he’s dangerous and you shouldn’t be around-‘’

‘’Steve wait!-‘’ you yelp as he pulls you towards the door, closing the living room and in one quick motion, get yanked from his hold and teleported right into the closet, your back hitting a solid chest with two slender hands stabilizing your hips.

‘’that went well.’’ Loki says with amusement, unable to see anything but you could tell he was looking down at you with his breath brushing against the top of your head.

‘’well I didn’t get to the part where we’re literally stuck together so he might actually try to fight you-‘’ you warn and shake him off but he pulls you back and switch you two so you’re behind him with him facing the door.

‘’you didn’t exactly seem to be in a hurry to make peace, love’’ he chuckles and you grasp his arm.

‘’no fighting-‘’

Loki yanks open the door with a calm and collected look on his face as he strolls out, Steve stopping dead in his tracks as his eyes widen in disbelief. ‘’now I know we’re both not in the mood, but we are going to demand your assistance soldier-‘’

‘’get away from her!’’ he yells and swings a punch at Loki, one in which he obviously dodges as he expected this type of reaction.

‘’I’m having a hard time doing that actually’’ Loki laughs and reflects all of the blows Steve throws at him, to your relief.

‘’Steve stop!’’ You yell, trying to take in the scene as they fight- well, Steve does and you get behind him. ‘’I didn’t invite you here to break my house’’ you warn, grabbing one of his wrists he had raised to throw again and he paused.

‘’why is he here??’’ he demands, using his body to guard you as he straightens himself, Loki still towering over him, smirking down his nose.

‘’that’s what I tried to tell you- we need you to take us to Strange.. quite literally we’re stuck together- we get teleported back together when we try to leave’’ you say practically in one breath as Steve keeps his eyes on Loki while he listens.

‘’.. he hasn’t hurt you?’’ he asks, his voice a bit more gentle as he glances behind his shoulder as if to check you himself before glaring back at Loki.

‘’clearly she’s bleeding out Rogers, you might need to get her to a hospital. Fast.’’ Loki says sarcastically with his arms crossed, earning another look from Steve.

‘’that is no joking manner-‘’

‘’than stop stating the obvious and lets get this all over with-‘’

‘’boys!’’ you hiss, rubbing your temples at the remembrance of all the bickering that went down the last time an Avenger and Loki was in a room together. ‘’Steve, just get us to Strange, can you do that?’’ you asked, your voice gentle as his body seemed to relax and half turned towards you.

‘’alright..’’

‘’and we need to keep this in a small circle. Very small- considering how your reaction was..’’ you scolded and moved yourself between the boys, seeing a slight guilty look from Steve as Loki slowly pulls his attention back down to you. ‘’and you silver tongue need to dull it for a moment. Don’t make things worse.’’

‘’I will merely take those words as a hidden compliment, my lady’’ he smirked, flashing it to Steve who glared at him while you move to the door with the boys following.

‘’are those my clothes?’’ Steve pointed out, not sure who he was asking as Loki followed behind you.

‘’unfortunately.’’ Loki said dryly, offering no explanation as you all headed to Steve’s car.

Just as Loki took a step outside the front door, you placed a hand to his chest quickly- making him stop quickly with confusion as you turned around more to look at him. Steve paused by the car door, raising a questioning brow as you kept your voice low, causing Loki to have to lean down a bit.

‘’you’re in civilian clothes, yes- but you’re going to need to disgust a little better than that.. just encase. Do you think you have enough magic to pull something off?’’ as soon as you saw the smirk on his face, you realized how your voice had been filled with concern and quickly gave him a dry look that said ‘not that I care’.

‘’I could hold something I suppose while we are in public.’’ He said calmly and inhaled, his eyes closing as you saw light green flash around him, traveling up from his shoes and his clothes began changing and headed up to his neck.

Blinking away the slight brightness that had come with his magic use, stood Loki dressed in a fancy ass suit and his hair had been changed shorter with a dirty blond color. The look suited him, even his eye color took a blue tint that seemed just as piercing as his original green orbs. Your cheeks reddened and you quickly turned away.

‘’that will do, come on.’’

‘’you seemed quite impressed love, did you not have faith in me?’’ he teased and when they reached the car, Steve gave Loki a look as he opened the driver’s seat.

‘’why bother wearing my clothes if you could conjure your own?” Steve pointed out in annoyance as Loki got in on his side.

‘’magic is useful but can be exhausting at times if a spell is being constantly held up.’’ Loki said dryly and slide in beside you.

The ride was a bit unpleasant though, but you tried hogging the oxygen most of the time so they wouldn’t get a chance to fight each other- explaining all you could to Steve in more detail- leaving out the personals.

‘’what makes you think sleeping together would fix anything??’’ Steve demanded over his shoulder while he drove, his cheeks still read by the thought of the idea.

‘’I’m not exactly seeing any other suggestions from you Soldier and trying anything would be in our best interest with this strange situation.’’ Loki shrugged in the back of the car, lazily watching out the window with his arms crossed while you glanced at Steve from shotgun.

‘’well with blood making contact, and how leaving each other’s sides seems to be an issue, this all seems to be some weird.. contact issue-‘’ you shut up, not wanting to feed into the idea as the both of you shook your heads from the thought.

‘’sex is not the answer- but we’ll have an answer soon.. I already contacted Strange to meet us at the facility.’’

Right- the team as spread out many locations for meet ups, and Strange could just portal his way to the facility.. meeting at the apartment would have been cramped and risky with the high alerts the Asgardian’s seem to enjoy having to protect their new home. The last thing you needed was for Valkerie to find out to- she and you never seemed to get along with your personalities.

Luckily the drive seemed to fade off into silence, occasionally Steve and Loki throwing dirty looks at each other from the mirrors but mercy granted, you all arrived.

~

Strange looked as calm as ever, other than an occasional eye brow raise as he sat across from you three, you in the middle with the boys on either side of you. to your annoyance, Loki shifted closer when he noticed Steve’s arm draped behind you on the couch’s back. perhaps with one more scoot, the boys would have sandwiched you between them. Yet you told Strange everything- from the blood contact, to Loki appearing the next day and the teleportation thing.

‘’can I see exactly?’’ Strange asked, waving a hand at you and Loki as he straightened in his chair.

You both glanced at each other and got up from the couch, you awkwardly staying put with your arms crossed while Loki- hiding an annoyed look to have to listen to all this- took a few steps away before suddenly he was sent right back to you, stumbling where your arms had to grasp each other and quickly step away awkwardly.

Strange gave a small hum as he rose, looking a bit more confused as he crossed the way over to you. somehow even in the large room- it kind of looked like the inside of a car dealership with no cars- you felt so small. ‘’lets stand over here,’’

‘’what are you going to do?’’ Loki asked defensively, not moving aside to let you go.

‘’just let him work.’’ Steve sighed, trusting Steven and Loki gave a sharp look at him.

‘’thank you for the transportation, you can leave now.’’

‘’stop-‘’ You warned through gritted teeth and brushed past him carefully, feeling your wing lightly hit him in the face as you went over to Strange. You supposed you wouldn’t apologize because he deserved it anyway as he huffed and sat back down.

‘’I’m going to have to get inside your head- perhaps some past memories might be an answer,’’ Strange explained, you both looking relaxed as you faced each other while Steve leaned forward to watch, intrigued.

Loki apparently was the only one having a problem as he took a step forward. ‘’wouldn’t she remember any memories that would be helpful?’’ he said defensively.

‘’do you remember everything when you were an infant?”’ Steve says sarcastically as he rested a cheek against his hand, watching everything patiently with hidden concern.

Loki looked back to say something but heard a flap of your wing and looked back to see you give him a look.

‘’Loki its fine- I trust Strange.’’

This seemed to make his body stiffen but he stayed put, hiding a small pout so it looked like while he watched.

‘’this won’t hurt, but it may be unpleasant. You’ll be seeing all the memories ill be pulling up, some may be good or bad- things you don’t wish to remember. I’ll have to start from the beginning until we may find what we’re looking for..’’ Steven explained gently, almost as if his tone alone would calm you as you nodded and took a deep breath.

‘’alright, go ahead.’’ You told him quietly and shut your eyes.

Feeling Strange’s fingers on your temples, you heard him inhale before your head began to lightly throb and your skin began to tingle. ‘This was all a part of the process’ you told yourself as you remained still before you began to see light form before your eye lids and take shape in an almost black and white vintage image. Needless to say, you knew what was happening.

Note: okay grammar needs work, i may have butchered Stephen's(?) name- however you spell it LOL

•also not to toot my own horn.. but it was so much fun working with inspired gifs with this chapter!

Tag List: @violethaze @fire-in-her-veinz

[infernalodie]

wanda maximoff x black!male!reader.

reader gets badly hurt during a mission and wanda nurtures him back to help. to show how grateful he is, he finds all of her favorite skovian snacks and/or stuffed plushies. just total fluff and soft smut if wanted.

𝐀 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 || 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘛𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘖𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦”

Inspo: Etta James - A Sunday Kind of Love

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Black!Male!reader

Summary: Dancing around feelings would only last until Sunday, the start of a new week...

Warnings: none (very tiny bit of angst) because this shit is adorable

Words: 2822

“How’s he been doing?” Natasha’s voice gently pulled Wanda from her thoughts. Blinking rapidly and turning her gaze to the rose-coloured-haired woman. Finding the enchanting assassin to already be watching her with an inquisitive look in her eye. This was something Wanda should be used to since she confessed to a few unannounced feelings she felt toward a specific man. “Been up since he got back from the mission?”

Wanda tilted her head slightly, eyes looking toward the ceiling. Fingertips gently danced along the exterior of her glass filled with a wine that had appeared in the kitchen one day. “He’s stubborn. Doesn’t like the help even when I could knock him over with a tiny press of my finger to his stomach,” Wanda explained, lips slowly curving into a tiny smile. “But his physical therapy has been going well. His skin has been healing slowly, so he’s still very sensitive to the touch.”

When you came back from your mission with Steve, Wanda had been by your side the moment you the Quinjet landed on the helipad. She remembers the sight of your uniform charred with the fabric of your sleeves burnt, revealing your skin that had been caught in some type of fire or explosion. And then she remembered you holding a charming smile when she met your tired gaze. But that had been swiftly followed by you collapsing and Wanda using her powers to stop your fall.

Natasha hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “When he joined S.H.I.E.L.D. he was a pain in the ass. But now, dare I say, he’s slightly easier to work with,” she said. “But with you nursing him back to health, I am sure he’ll soften up some more. Even if it’s just with you.”

“Speaking of Y/n-” Wanda pulled back the sleeve of her denim jacket, looking down at her watch. “-I need to grab him really quick.”

“The rest of the team will be spending out at the Jackpot by the time you get back,” Natasha told her. “So, if you want to come out after you bring him back, then swing by.”

“I don’t think I can,” Wanda sighed, grabbing her keys from one of the drawers. “Y/n’s has to eat, take his painkillers, and then try to sleep. All those steps involve my help which I am fine to do.”

When she heard a quiet snicker, she looked up and found Natasha hiding her lips behind her glass. Making her crack a smile, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you giggling about?”

Still taking a sip, Natasha hummed with a wave of her hand. “It just seems like you two are together already from the way you talk,” she pointed out. “It’s adorable how much you care about him. Like you two are an old married couple.”

Wanda felt the heat from her body rise and nestle in her face. In the weeks of Wanda helping nurse you back to health, there had been some form of trust and care felt from both sides. Which made Wanda only want to get you back to the best state she could. If that meant driving you around, making you food, using her powers to help you go to sleep when your burns became irritated by the bed, she did it all for you. And maybe that was just her being naive and allowing her feelings to become apparent in her acts of kindness.

“Ok, I’m going to go now. Have a good night with the team, Nat.” Wanda quickly rushed out of the kitchen, hoping to avoid and run away from the older woman’s statement.

But Natasha sat there, a smirk etched on her lips as she shook her head. “Love birds.”

Arriving at the physical therapy that you’d been going to for about two months, Wanda stood in the lobby of the physical therapy office. Through the double doors, she could see you talking to a nurse helping you recover from your injuries. In the mission, you’d suffered a broken light leg with extreme 4-degree burns that left you bedridden for weeks before you started taking things slow with your movements. Wanda had been there for every step you took, holding your hands and helping you move through your room until you eventually were given crutches to move on your own.

But with also being able to see you, she could hear your thoughts, and theft undoubtedly put a smile on her face. Able to listen in on the pure boredom running through your head and how you just wanted to be gone and back at the tower drinking some coffee and watching a movie. Yet, on the surface, you wore an interested look on your face that could get by the nurse who was likely explaining your exercises on Tuesday. But you could care less. You just wanted to enjoy your Sunday.

When you were finally let go by the nurse, you hobbled your way over with a deadpan. Able to see the amused look on Wanda’s face through the glass. Entering the lobby, you glared. “Not one word, Maximoff.”

“But you look adorable when you’re grouchy,” she teased, earning a groan from you. She opened the front door, allowing you to go first before she followed. “When we get back, you can just enjoy whatever TV show you’re going to watch. I’ll make you some coffee.”

God, tonight is going to be amazing

“Just remember that you owe me after this.” Wanda looked at you, finding you inhaled deeply, exhaling heavily.

“Get out of my head, Wanda,” you muttered. “Don’t need you poking around at the stuff that you shouldn’t.”

Since you met her in that old base that housed Klaue and Ultron, she had poked her way into your thoughts. Made memories rise to the surface and remind you of the darkness that clouded it. That was the last and only time you would ever allow her to do such a thing. But now, her being a part of the team and taking care of you, your leniency with her use had wavered. If it meant putting your mind at ease before you slept, then you allowed it. If she wanted to poke around and hear your sarcastic comments when Tony went on rambling about one of his projects, you allowed it since it made her laugh. But to access memories and put you in a state where you had trouble seeing the differences between history and the present, you would never allow it.

“New nurse,” Wanda pointed out, hearing you hum in acknowledgement. “Cassandra couldn’t come in today?”

Opening the passenger door, you sighed. “Yeah, she had some business to take care of today,” you explained. “Her apprentice took care of me today. Not a terrible girl, just was way too thorough than I’d like.”

Slipping into the seat, Wanda leaned down and smirked. “You don’t like anything that doesn’t appeal to your moral compass.” And before you could protest, she shut the door on your face. Silencing you as you exhaled heavily and leaned back in the seat. Glancing over when Wanda got inside, not waiting to pull out of the parking lot and make her way toward the Avengers tower.

The two of you sat in silence for the majority of the ride. That familiar comfort falling over the two of you that needn’t be accompanied by any conversation. It was the beauty of the relationship you two had. There wasn’t any need for words when the presence of one another was enough to relax. And even when you got to the tower, the two of you didn’t speak. Just standing by one another in the elevator till the doors open with the two of you stepping out into the lounge.

Truthfully, Natasha wasn’t exactly entirely wrong in her statement earlier. Wanda was beginning to see the relationship you and she had as something natural. Something that didn’t need to be made official when your guys’ words and actions spoke more than a title connecting the two of you could. For you, even when you were a belligerent fool, you still showed your care and love toward the witch. Because every day when you woke up to the sound of her soothing voice, you felt like there was something to get up to. Like there was something calling and urging you to get started with your day.

Exiting the elevator, you followed Wanda toward the kitchen. “The rest of the team went out to drink. So, you won’t have to deal with any of them for the majority of the night.” Wanda tossed the keys onto the island, moving toward the coffee machine. “I can make you a cup of coffee if you want to go get changed into something more comfortable.”

Wanda looked back at you, seeing you lean your crutches against the island and carefully begin to move through the kitchen. No word was spoken with your actions of grabbing ingredients. And when you came by her side, you placed your hand on her lower back, smiling. “I’m going to need you to scoot over, darling.”

The nickname struck an anvil in Wanda’s heart, the sparks of a burning metal resting on her cheeks She quickly stepped away and allowed you to grab the bottle of red wine she and Natasha had been drinking hours ago. You grabbed two glasses and began to pour. “You can sit and relax,” you told her. “I’m going to make you dinner.”

She wanted to protest and use her powers to sit you down, but she knew what that would result in. Likely you ignore her for the rest of the night or an argument starts over her actions. Either or, she didn’t want to deal with that, and the offer was too good to let down. Especially with her curiosity brewing with the wonder of what scheme you were brewing.

So, she took the glass you extended to her and sat on the island. Legs crossed as you moved with an elegance only a chef could have. Yet, she often needed to remind herself that all her cooking techniques had been from you. Because before you became gifted or cursed with the super soldier serum, you were chef down in the streets of New York. If she remembers correctly, you worked in Hell's Kitchen right next door to where one of your lawyer friends worked.

It often became hard for her to think of you ever being anything else besides a hero. On the battlefield, you were a brutal human being. In the way, you disposed of the opposition or in your moral compass and what you believed was right. So, seeing you cut up these carrots with speed and precision was new every time she sees it.

Glancing up from the cutting board, you met Wanda’s gaze. Her hands zeroed in on your hands, lips slightly parted, and a layered look in her eyes of something you could identify. Making you smirk, clearing your throat. The sound made her blink rapidly, looking up at you inquiringly. “It amazes me that I don’t need powers to understand what you are thinking, Wanda.”

“It’s not like that,” she defended, biting her bottom lip. “It’s just hard to think that you used to do this. After seeing the things you’ve done in the field-”

“I did those things to keep the team and world safe,” you interjected softly, dumping the carrots into the pot of boiling water. “Everything I will do has a reason to it. So, although I understand what you are trying to say, it doesn’t mean I have forgotten what makes me human.”

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, head slightly tilting as she stares at you. “I think even when I’ve seen you kill people you were human, Y/n.” Her words make you falter for a moment, a moment too long that it allowed her to see that her words indeed had an effect on you.

Pursing your lips, you swallowed the lump in your throat and looked back at her. “Thanks, love.”

From there, a blanket of silence rested over the both of you in that comforting and warm way from before. Wanda watched you cook and you soaked up the warm feeling in your chest from being her center of attention. And somewhere in that time, she left to get out of some clothes. Coming back in some shorts with one of your shirts that hid said shorts. It was an adorable sight that you could get used to if things played well in your favour.

But she continued to watch you scoop the food from inside the pot and pour it into the bowls. Grabbing a spoon, and placing it in the bowl, you walked toward the girl and handed it to her. “Thank you.” She smiled, taking hold of the spoon and diving into the dish. It was a soup with some meat broth involved in it. And the smell was so familiar it was hard for Wanda to not feel a warm sense of contentment. And when she placed the hot liquid between her lips, her eyes flickered shut. A deep hum emitted from the depths of her chest as she placed the bowl down.

You had watched and couldn’t shake the smile from your lips. “It’s Borscht,” you stated, gaining the girl’s attention. You shrugged, “I thought you deserved something close to home instead of some random dish we Americans have. And I know you don’t like talking about Sokovia, but I feel like you deserve the little things that remind you of home because we all deserve that right.”

Wanda chewed on the inside of her cheek, the stinging sensation behind her eyes making her blink rapidly. Leaning her face into one of her hands, hiding her features from your curious gaze. And you were left in silence before she finally sat up, sniffling and revealing her tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes.

“You don’t know how much this means to me,” she wept, trying to smile, but the emotions are overwhelming. Causing her face to twist and turn in many expressions of pain and happiness. “Thank you, Y/n.”

The least she expected was to feel your arms coil around her and pull her close. A hand comes to the back of her head and pulls her into your chest. She didn’t hesitate to melt into your body, hands falling to your waist as she cried in your chest.

Although the vulnerability wasn’t new to both of you, this sure was. You hadn’t seen her cry in months since Pietro passed away and Sokovia was destroyed. It’d been months since then and you felt like you might’ve unintentionally brought back some bad memories with the good ones.

Except, when she pulled away from your chest, looking up at you with those teary eyes, you felt like your thoughts had been answered. And when her hands held your face, you felt all worries wash away. Especially when she pressed her lips to yours, replacing the coldness of fear with the warmth of love. Making you seek it deeper, pressing your lips firmer against hers and leaning into her slightly.

The kiss was brief, but it was fulfilling for what it was. Breaking apart only a breath away with your foreheads resting against one another. Wanda licked her lips, letting out a shaky exhale, tips of her fingers gently caressing your jaw and cheek. “I love you.”

You couldn’t help the smile to break out on your lips. “And I love you too.” You pressed a kiss to her lips, to which she reciprocated and sat in this close embrace for a few moments. At least until you jutted your thumb over your shoulder. “So, I may have also had Cassandra grab me some Sokovia candy today.”

That made her eyes widen as you motioned toward one of the cupboards. “I snuck them in when you went to get changed–Which I want to add, you look adorable in my shirts.” You smiled when the girl stared at the colour packaging of the candy. Her lips parted in an open smile, looking up at you with a chuckle.

“I thought you said she didn’t work today?” Wanda reminded.

A soft laugh fell from your lips. “Wanda, will all those powers, you still can’t tell if I am telling the truth or not,” you said. “I convinced her to give her mentor a chance to get experience whilst she did me a favour. Who wouldn’t help out an Avenger to win over the girl of his dreams.”

Wanda felt those imaginary strings pull at the corner of her lips, forming a large smile. “You are full of surprises, Y/n.” Pressing her lips against yours, standing to her feet, she hummed. “I love it.”

[misslovasstuff]

Love is worrisome

Dazai x reader

“When life comes to your doorstep, whom should you choose, your lover or yourself?”

You open your eyes only to see a shining, blinding light on the ceiling. It takes a few seconds for you to fully regain consciousness. There is a distinctive smell, clean and fresh. White walls surround you everywhere, except in front where there is a weird abstract, colourful painting.

Where am I?

There is a constant beeping side coming from your left. You shift your gaze to a monitor there, exhibiting your heartbeat. At the same side there is a small table near you, on top of which stands a bouquet of flowers. Your hands reach to pick up a rose from there, sniffing it and looking at it for a moment. Roses reminded you of your lover, as he is the type of man who gives flowers even in the most random of occasions. However, from what you absorbed, you seem to be in a hospital room, but as per se have no memory whatsoever of what led you there.

There were so many questions on your mind: Were you on a mission? Did you fail to succeed? Where is Dazai?

Your train of thought is interrupted by the cracking sound of a door. Someone enters the room, quietly.

“Oh, you’ve awaken?”- There stands Naomi, who had been waiting patiently for you to wake up in the past few hours. - How are you feeling?”- she asks.

“Naomi, - you say, struggling to get up. She notices and hurriedly comes to your aid. - What happened? Where is everyone?”- you ask.

“Whoever do you mean by ‘everyone’, i wonder…?”- Naomi smirks, wiggling her eyebrows as you roll your eyes with a smile. - Dazai is fine, it’s just….”- she pauses, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to tell you something or not. You wanted her to say whatever was in her mind.

“Just what?”- you tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of Naomi’s expression. She gulps hard before making eye contact with you.

“I’m sure you don’t remember so let me fill you in. - she claims with a trembling voice, - We had an emergency today, a threat coming for the armed detective agency, more directly, a threat to Dazai.”

You widen your eyes, clenching the sheets of your bed.

“Don’t worry, he’s alright. Whilst we were on a meeting, making a plan and strategically coming up with any ideas how severe the outcome could be, you were already on your way to the people who made the threat. You overheard Dazai’s plan beforehand, at least that’s what he said, but I was the only one who noticed you leaving way sooner than the meeting took place, as if you knew exactly what he planned to do, and you didn’t want whatever Dazai thought to come into a plan. Thus…” - Naomi explains, noticing you lowering your head.

“Thus you got heavily injured during the fight you out front. Now you’re here, thankfully alright.”- she reaches for your hand, embracing it with warmth.

“Where is Dazai? Where are the others?”- you ask, an apparent worry laying in your voice.

Naomi stays silent.

“I’m going to ask one more time, Naomi. Where is Dazai?”

Your colleague gets taken aback from the your sudden aura change. It looked like everything darkened around you, leaving no room for Naomi to hold back what Dazai said to.

“He and all others are after the guys that hurt you. Dazai didn’t want to let them go, not after what they did to you. He even had a heavy debate with Kunikida about this. Atsushi on the other hand didn’t hesitate one bit, neither did Junichiro.”

“Damn you, Dazai.”- you scoff, shaking your head. - Damn you damn you damn you!”- with the little strength that’s left, you try to get up only to be hit with a wave of dizziness, causing you to fall back down on the bed.

Shit.

Naomi sighs and you rub your temple. In a slight second, you notice your hand on the red rose you were holding before. You grab it, stare at it for a while, and then smile gently.

“Dazai left this bouquet here, didn’t he?”- you ask Naomi who smiles and nods. - I hope he’s safe.”

“Don’t worry, I mean, it is Dazai we’re taking about. He’s going to be -

“Is she ok? Is she awake? Is she in pain?”- a worried voice from outside interrupts Naomi’s speech. The door is opened hurriedly, catching you both out of guard.

“Oh, thank goodness.”- Dazai enters the room and sighs softly, expressing such relief that even the breath that leaves his lungs sounds like a sound of crying. - Thank goodness.”- he repeats as Naomi gets up and makes room for him to sit near you.

“Dazai, you’re alright.”- you whisper to him as he wraps your arms around you, holding your head with his hands and kissing your forehead. - I’m so glad you’re ok.”- you add, letting yourself go in his embrace, cherishing his heart next to yours. You could feel his hand slightly trembling and his sniffs which become less noticeable when he dives his face in the nape of your neck.

“Whoa whoa hold on, you and I have things to talk about, don’t you get all cozy and warm with me yet miss!”- he says, pushing you a bit away and staring at your eyes. - First of all, how many times have we talked about you not going on dangerous missions before discussing it with me? Secondly, although it was admirable and it kinda made me feel loved, not gonna lie, that was really unprofessional.”

“Did Kunikida tell you to scold me?”- you raise an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Yeah, it was part of a deal I made with him.”- Dazai doesn’t hesitate to call him out and you both chuckle.

After a small moment of looking at each other tenderly, Dazai reaches for your hand, noticing you holding a rose.

“You know what meaning the rose has for us, right?”

“It means, I’ll be back for you. - a soft smile appears on your lips as your gaze falls to the beautiful rose. - It’s reassuring really. I wonder who came up with it.”

“Alright alright genius, take your credits. - Dazai smiles and you giggle, making the white dull room finally bristling with colour. - I love you.”

Dazai leans in for a quick kiss which you reciprocate.

“I love you, too.”- as you brush off his cheek with your thumb, you notice a little scar.

“Wait, Dazai, did you get hurt?”- you panic a bit, leaning closer to examine his face.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. I’m okay.”- he reassures, hiding the scar with his hair. - No biggie, Atsushi took the bigger hits.”

“Atsushi can get healed by Yosano, plus he can regenerate. You on the other hand are much more fragile-

“Fragile? Come now, belladonna, recover quickly and I’ll show you ‘fragile’ once we get back home.”- he teases, a hint of playful smile showing on his face.

“I’m already recovered and well.” - you smirk, slightly scanning his face whilst biting your lip.

“Uhm, no you’re not. Trust me. I need you on your best form.”

“My oh my, - you laugh. - can have me right here right now if you want.”

“Why are you so impatient, huh? - Dazai leans in closer and whispers to you - You missed me quite a lot, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Can’t deny it. I don’t lie to the man I love.” - your eyes meet his in close proximity, hear and tension slowly building up.

“How much did you miss me?” - he asks with a breathy voice, gazing at your lips.

“Almost died.” - you say, trying to hold your giggle as Dazai rolls his eyes with a smile:

“Pffft, nope. Not today.”

“Dazaiiii, - you whine as Dazai leads himself to the exit. - come on now.”

“Belladonna I have spoiled you too much, you be the one who’s tortured for once.”- he winks and exits, leaving you in a very sad state.

“Damn you, Dazai.”- you sigh as you lean back, clenching onto the fabric of your shirt. Relief.

Thank goodness he’s okay.

[nerdieforpedro]

A Night of Madness

Joel Miller x plus size female reader

Fanfiction 18+

Warnings: Awkward family dinner, smut, heavy Southern accent, Joel is a menace

Summary: Jane had a one night stand. She meets him a month later at the last place she expected him to be. Joel is well, Joel 'fucking' Miller.

Masterlist

Notes: I made Joel’s accent extra Southern, not sure why just wrote it and kept it. All mistakes are my own. I thought I had posted it last week and still saw it in my drafts. I was very confused. 😐

“Um…hello. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, name’s Joel doll. So you’re Jane?”

“Yup. I’m Jane. I’m here.” The pair shook hands, Jane felt her face become warm along with her underarms, anxiety is a bitch.

“God, could you two be anymore awkward? You’re the damn godparents for goodness’ sake!” Tommy had his hands on his hips. His brother was a big teddy bear. A mean ass looking one, but still a teddy bear.

“Tommy, ya’ don’t need to yell. Hell, we just met. Since’s he’s not gonna tell ya, you can park right here.” Joel held out a chair for Jane who sat and pulled her pale-yellow sundress down. It was her favorite, made her feel confidant. And she needed to for this so called ‘family dinner.’ Maria had insisted on it, gathering those who she felt closest to. It was sweet but also meant Jane would have to meet new people, like Joel, though he wasn’t exactly new. Joel’s daughter Sarah was previously unknown to Jane as was the adopted Elle and her girlfriend Star. Jane knew Tommy and Maria of course and their two children, Maria was six months along again.

The teens were playing with children while the adults spoke, Maria asked for Tommy’s help in the kitchen, presumably to explain again why this was a good idea when maybe it wasn’t. Did they really need to meet? Joel didn’t think so, though he was shocked it was the same woman who last time he saw her she was in a royal blue dress one month prior.

He had seen her in a bar and she looked very out of place. Apparently she had gotten separated from her friends and was asking the bartender if he had her phone’s type of charger. He did not. Joel offers to buy her a drink and to use his car charger. He thinks he knows where it is in the truck. She was weary but did need to to be charged, so she agreed and set out to his truck, she laughed about her poor luck and was thankful he was not a creep as she put it. Joel laughed and put a hand over hers, telling her he wasn’t, she would be safe with him. Her fingers intertwined with his and she leaned over giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Be careful who you say that to handsome. You might get more than you bargained for.” Her sultry voice and made Joel shift in the driver’s seat.

“That right doll? I don’t ’suppose ya’ nothing I can’t handle. I might give ya’ sumtin’ ya’ll never forget.” Joel’s other hand cradled her head and pulled him to her, crashing their lips together. It wasn’t long before she had her panties off and Joel was being jerked off by her. She then rode him both in his truck and when he was able to drive, on his couch later. After napping, he insisted that they go to the bedroom where the elder Miller made sure to take his time, get her out of the dress so he could explore all of her curves. He expected her to be hesitant but she was bold and poked fun at him for bemoaning his back. She soon was made to swallow her words as well as Joel’s cock. He tasted her core and couldn’t get enough of her, but the time the sun rose in the morning, they were sprawled across the bed, tangled in each other. It was then that she nervously said she had to go. He didn’t get a name or a number. Turned out she gave him something he couldn’t forget too.

Now they were sitting, making small talk over pasta and garlic bread like none of that happened. She was giggling like everything was fine. When dinner finished, Tommy and Maria put the kids to bed while Elle drove Sarah and Star to a local concert, Joel had already agreed on account of Sarah’s excellent grades, now they were left in an uncomfortable silence. Jane spoke first, after five solid minutes of quiet. “It’s, I don’t think we should mention that we know each other at all. It will make it weirder than it already is.”

“That so doll? Houdya figure?” Joel leaned forward, he had rolled up the sleeves of his red flannel shirt, with a smirk on his face. Jane’s met them and then went back to his face. It was frozen right now, but she remembered the expressions, the sheer awe that it showed looking at her naked form. No one else had treated her with such reverence. It scared her and she didn’t know the man’s name. Her first one might stand. It was easier to do than she thought, but so hard to leave. She knew if she didn’t Jane would have never called an Uber and left. “I remember a hellova night and morning.” His accent sent shivers up her spine. She thought she had a night of madness but she knew she was wrong. It was everything about him, the accent, his hulking frame actually making her feel small. Those hands all over her body and the praises he gave her.

“Doll you sound fuckin’ beautiful right now.”

“Tightest pussy I’ve had, you took me all the way in.”

“Shit that tongue, make me drown ya’ throat.”

“Fuck Doll you’re so soft, lemme hold ya’ stay right there. Not pulling out ‘till I harden up ‘gain.”

Jane remembered all of it and he had given her something she’d never forget. She’d gone so far as to go back to that bar and ask the bartender if he know the man she had left with. He’d scoffed at her and told her it wasn’t his job to remember everyone she fucked. She may have through another person’s bourbon at him. A waste of good liquor.

“I can’t…I lost myself that night and became,” Jane whispered “a bit concerned about finding you. So we can’t…” Her train of thought was lost when Joel’s hand patted her thigh. His touch gentler than the smirk he had.

“Jane, you look pretty in that yellow dress. Damn near close to that blue one you had on.” Joel’s thumb pressed into her thick thigh before scooting closer to her and leaning into her ear. “Still prefer you out of it. I wanna grab ya’ and see ya’ dripping’ fer me.” He left a small kiss to her check and stood to meet the footsteps he heard coming down the stairs. Jane felt her thigh where Joel’s hand had been, missing the pressure.

“You two make things a bit more friendly? You can’t be stiff ‘round each other. For the kids’ sake.” Tommy chimed as he hugged Maria. Jane stood and nodded, hugging the happy couple before moving toward the door. Joel used his long legs to meet her there and open it for her. “Brother, walk her to the car. She parked on the street. Elle’s car was blocking the driveway earlier.” He suggested, Jane put her hands in front of her plush belly, she normally did that when she was anxious. A given since she felt she might fuck him in her car on the street outside of her friend’s house. Joel and Jane stepped out of the house in silence until they got to her car.

“What is it about you that makes me want to have you rail me? I feel insane…” Jane opened her car door and tossed her purse in, slipping her keys in one her dress pockets. Joel stepped to embrace her but she stopped him, putting her hands on his chest. “No. Give me your number Miller. Tell your girls you’re sleeping over at your brother’s house. You’re following me to my place. Now.” He commanded and hopped into her car. Joel put both hands up and walked around to her window.

“I showed ya’ what ya’ couldn’t handle Jane. Now you wanna keep handlin’ it until ya’ understand. I’m fine ridin’ ya out Doll. I’ll follow ya’ and show ya’ some good lovin’ darlin’.”

The Tag List:

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @modernperplexity @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @awilderi @deviinci @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23 @beabliss @alwaysmicado @daddy-dins-girl

[where-dreamers-go]

“Adorably Okay” Bridge Carson x Reader

(A/N: Based on my Imagine: Bridge hearing your thoughts about him. I did not expect to do multiple revisions during and after typing it all up. Warnings: Reference to beginnings of a slight panic attack. Use of (Y/N). Word Count: 1,093 words)

Days could mostly be weird. It wasn’t their fault and it was mainly one’s perspective. Such was how people viewed each day in life.

Your day had been pretty average. Keeping a schedule. No big surprises. People, fellow cadets, around you were overall in pleasant spirits.

No big tests today apparently, you thought.

Sure, you weren’t on a path to become a Power Ranger, but that suited you just fine. There were plenty of other responsibilities. Ones you gladly shared with others throughout your time at Headquarters.

You saw enough of your crush, an actual Power Ranger, regardless of your job position. Lucky you. Your crush, Bridge Carson, was as nice as a dream. The two of you had talked before loads of times, but you hadn’t pursued anything beyond friendship.

Honestly, you weren’t sure how. But you were happy. Fully content to have a friendship with the most cute and intelligent person you knew.

And so darn adorable.

Walking from your room with a book of choice, you made your way through the halls, intent on returning the book to a friend. A cadet, busy as others.

Thankfully, the walk wasn’t far, even if S.P.D. Headquarters was enormous.

It was a wonder then, when a familiar pairing of grey and green caught your attention.

“Hey, Bridge,” you greeted as he started walking up to you with a smile.

That smile could brighten any day.

“Hi.” Bridge gave a short wave and quickly begun talking once he stood in front of you. “I heard your thoughts again. You think I’m adorable. How come—.”

A large book slipped from your fingers and dropped to the floor.

Everything in you seemed to go into a static mode, like you were somewhere between panic and complete shutdown. Worried thoughts trying to consume you.

He knows I like him? No. He can’t. What do I do? Why’s he here to tell me? Does he want me to stop?

“(Y/N)?” Bridge tilted his head. “(Y/N)?” His dark eyebrows pinched together in concern.

Upon Bridge’s announcement, it became impossible to function outside of your own mind. You were incredibly ill prepared.

He knows? Your vision hardly picked up details of the flooring. Worry started overtaking you. Pulling you away from your more rational thoughts.

Black-gloved hands grabbed a hold of your arms.

“Hey.” Bridge’s voice was gentle. “Can you hear me?” Thumbs rubbed small circles along your uniform.

He can’t just talk about my thoughts. Gah! Just…you can hear him. Answer him. Something. He’s worried.

Taking a moment or two, you were finally able to nod.

“Okay. Good. Uh.”

Just breathe, you thought. It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t freak him out. He just wanted to talk. It’s Bridge not…something bad.

He took a step closer. “Here.” Bridge placed one your hands on the center of his chest. “Follow my breathing.”

Heat whipped through you in a confusing mixture of surprised panic and nervous excitement.

Okay?

“Breathe in.” His chest rose underneath your palm.

Staring where he held your hand to him, you copied his breathing. It went a little shaky. Yet you made progress.

“Breathe out.”

Exhaling, you felt the beating of your friend’s heart. Your crush’s heartbeat. Strong and uncharacteristically quick.

It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong. You closed your eyes and centered yourself. With Bridge as your anchor, you knew you were safe. No matter what surprising or intrusive thoughts made themselves known, you would be okay. Truly and honestly.

Out of all words to react to. He can’t know specifically how I feel from just that word. Goodness. And he wouldn’t be mean about it.

You swallowed.

“Please don’t surprise me like that.” You muttered, feeling calmer.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft. “Are you all right, now?”

“Yeah… My mind took a turn.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just thinking about you again.”

Your eyes snapped open. “Again?”

“Yeah. Thinking about what we ate yesterday, about what we were reading and which of your thoughts I’ve heard. You know.” His bright brown eyes could hardly keep steady eye contact with you while he spoke.

Glancing down to his chest, you focused on how the rate of his heart beat sped up. Neither of you made a move closer nor away.

“So, it’s okay that I think you’re adorable?” You asked, boldly keeping your hand on him.

Just breathe. This is new. Asking him is fine.

His other hand slipped down to hold your free hand. “Yes.”

Oh. Oh, he likes it?

“When I found you, I wanted to ask: how come you haven’t told me? Out loud. I wanted to know.”

The vulnerable conversation had opened. Both of you equally giving.

“I don’t know.” You answered truthfully. Sort of.

It’s not weird to call someone ‘adorable’, in general. If you know them. And he wanted to know why. Wants to.

“Do you want me to?” You asked quietly.

However empty the hallway appeared, sound carried. There was no telling who could walk by. Who might overhear or see.

The conversation curved closer to the heart.

Goodness and the universe knew how much Bridge meant to you. How much you liked him. Adored him. Even more so after he calmed you.

“Yes and I do like when I hear your thoughts too.” Bridge answered, his hand pressing yours more firmly on his chest. “And I really like you. I hope it’s alright to tell you now.”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

Was he truly telling you? Confessing to you?

Your feelings for him were reciprocated?

“Do you like me?” He asked timidly from your silence.

Those warm brown eyes pulled at your heartstrings. Tender and caring. Always attentive when you were near.

“I do. I really like you too.” You whispered.

Releasing both of your hands, Bridge held your face gently. His gaze and smile were just as soft. The speed of his heart was the only contrast.

He likes me. You thought happily, he’s adorable.

“So adorable.” You murmured.

Breathing out a small, delighted laugh, Bridge leaned forward and kissed you tenderly.

Your day had not gone weirdly nor had it been predictable. The day held warmth and good intentions.

A forgotten book.

Two friends standing in a hallway.

Tasks were on standby.

What was a few more kisses shared between two people?

“You’re so adorable and—”

He kissed you.

“—incredibly smart.” You continued and kissed him back.

Bridge smiled against your lips again as you played with his hair.

He was your adorable Power Ranger.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @

Bridge Carson Tags: @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[ohhxdile]

Mysterious Man ☆ OS

∞ ₒ ˚ Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

⋆༶⋆˙⊹

Words: 793

Summary: Typical night for you working in a Tavern that is also an Inn. But tonight is different, there is a strange man in the corner of the room

Warnings: reader pov, use of medieval words, reader as an accent

(A/N: oh my god! i didn't expect my first fanfic to get attention, idk how to thank you all 💕😭)

⋆༶⋆˙⊹

I worked in this tavern for over years now. I’ve experienced many festivals, towns people's departure, new faces, mariage and even rivalry. We could call this quite the “experience”

But today was different, while a few drunk men were singing in the middle of the tavern, ripping their vocal cords and pouring ale on the floor. Messy customers that we didn’t really enjoy to serve, but they consumed the most. Something else was different. A blond-white haired man was sat at the corner of the tavern, a long black piece of linen covered his whole body, I couldn’t quite make out his apparence. 

The owner approached me while I was rearranging the barrels “The Witcher wants his pottage with boef” I stood up with a quirked eyebrow questioning him, he pointed quickly to the white-haired man. “Fine, sure” I sigh and put down the barrels I was occupied with, taking the wooden tray in my hand with the pottage and boeuf.

I walked to him and served him “Here is the pottage and boef, Mister asked” I took the empty vessel asking him if he wanted more to drink, he nodded and thanked me. I got to work and poured another drink for him.

Night was settling in, people were leaving, some bought a hall to sleep in. People were getting kicked out forcefully, typical day for a tavern that also works as an Inn.

My hands were sticky with all the type of ale and meals. I cleaned my hands while the owner cleaned a few vessels and plates. “Tonight was good” I smiled at him, when I turned my head, the empty barrels took my attention “Ah ya’ I forgot to refill them, Would ya please get the Pale Lager in the Undercroft?” I nodded and took in hand the empty Pale Lager and got working. I rummaged through all the cask, they were a lot of them, I quickly found the right one and filled in the empty cask. 

It was getting pretty cold in the tavern and I shivered a bit. Someone didn’t leave and It was the “Witcher” I quickly glanced at him and approached him “You’re leaving soon the village?” He raised his head at me and chuckled “I need to stay here for quite a while, people are asking me to solve a town problem.” His rough voice was like neumes to my ears, but soon after something bothered me in his sentence “a town problem?” I take a hold of his empty tankard and ask him “What? I never heard about a problem here before?” His eyebrows raised itself just like mines and we stared at each other.

Continuously we talk to one another, I understand what he means by “problem” there is a thief that is fliching money from ladies by making them buy deadly roses, what a complete disaster. I understood now why he would stay here for a while. “This is quite the story ya’ have” I chuckled to him and he shrugged off, raising his shoulders slightly. “It is my duty as a Witcher” The strange man was interesting, more than any menne I’ve meet along my years of working, he started ruffling through his piece of linen and gave me a sack of gold, I stared at him for approval and he made a sign with his hand. I opened the bag and counted the coins.

He had the perfect amount for the ale, pottage and boef he ate. I was pretty satisfied and thanked him. “My pleasure, the food here is gracious and the ale is smooth to the gullet” I blushed a bit, happy that he was satisfied. I took the bag of gold, content and walked to the owner giving him the coins.

Before leaving the Witcher came close to me, I looked up at him and he smiled, silence settled between us. I didn’t know what to say, but I was a tad busy with wipping the tables that I haven’t realised his eyes travelled around my figure. “Thank you again” I shrugged off his comment and said It was my pleasure. “I still haven’t asked your name” He mentionned and yes, I realised I never introduced myself to the stranger and I told him my name. 

He said my name, and the way It rolled on his tongue was mischievous I liked it. “My name is Geralt” I smiled hopping he wouldn’t see it since my head is lowered to the table in front of me. Suddenly dead silence and I lifted my head.

 Geralt was gone, he left the Inn with a souvenir and a warm welcome, and I was left with many questions in my mind and hoping that he would come back.

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Chapter Two

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 5837

I stared at the blank screen for a good ten minutes before I started typing. Finally, the words started coming to me, though I felt like it was just drivel, something to write just for the sake of writing. I let out a sigh of relief when I was interrupted a few minutes later by someone clearing his throat in the doorway.

“Stacey Barnett?” the young man asked.

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Delivery for you,” he announced. “Where would you like these?”

My eyes widened when I saw the enormous arrangement of flowers in his hand.

“Um…” I blinked. “I guess right here is fine.”

I pushed away a stack of folders and papers to my left, giving him ample space to set the bouquet. I watched as he set it down and turned toward the door.

“Don’t I need to sign something?” I inquired.

“Once I get everything in,” he replied.

“What?” I sounded, raising a brow, but the man had already disappeared.

Two seconds later he returned pushing a cart holding two large boxes, a clipboard atop them. He rounded my desk before lifting the boxes, which looked to be heavy, and setting them on the floor. Then with a heavy breath, he handed me the clipboard and a pen.

“Sign here, please,” he requested.

“Who is this from?” I asked him.

“Don’t know, ma’am,” the young man shook his head. “I’m just the delivery service.”

I signed my name in a hasty scribble, handing him back the clipboard. He nodded good day and I stared at the flowers as he walked away. There was no card attached to give me any clue from whom it was. Just as I rose from my chair to inspect the boxes, another cart was being pushed through the door, this one two-tiered and covered in food.

“What in the world?” I exclaimed. “I didn’t order any catering.”

“No ma’am,” said the tall, thin man standing behind the cart. “This was a special request that just came in this morning.”

“From who?”

“From a...uh…” he pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of his apron, “Styles.”

My mouth fell open as I glared at the man, then at the food, realization setting in. I swallowed hard, pushing my hair behind my ears.

“Would you prefer I leave the food here, or is there a kitchen you’d rather store it in?”

I blinked. “Um...yeah, maybe the conference room?”

“Sure thing,” the young man nodded. “Lead the way.”

I walked past him to the hallway and around the corner to the large conference room that was supposed to be for meeting purposes, but we rarely used. The wheels of the cart squeaked behind me as I pushed open the door. I helped remove the food from the cart and placed it on the long table. Once everything was cleared, I stood with my hands on my hips, noticing just how much food there was. A variety of sandwiches, fruit, a veggie tray, pasta, two kinds of salads, bread, cookies and even a cake. And of course, no lunch would be complete without various cans of soda and bottles of water. Did we really need Ozarka, Fiji and Perrier?

“If you could just sign this, please,” I heard the man say, though he suddenly sounded far away. “Payment is all taken care of.”

Slowly taking the slip of paper from him, I signed my name once again.

“Enjoy your lunch,” he called as he pushed the squeaky cart out of the room.

“Holy shit!” I heard Lorelei’s voice exclaim behind me. I turned to see her standing in the doorway. “Who ordered catering?”

“Apparently Harry Styles did,” I shrugged.

“What?” Lorelei’s eyes popped as she stepped inside and walked to the table. She grabbed a strawberry from the fruit tray and took a generous bite. “Mmm! Oh my God, these are fresh!”

“Alright, lunch!” I heard another voice behind me declare. Terrance, one of our lead editors stepped around me to grab a fancy plastic plate, quickly filling it with sandwiches and fruit. “Did I miss the memo about a meeting or something?”

“No,” I shook my head. “Just a friendly gesture.”

“I’ll say,” Lorelei muttered under her breath. I shot her a look as I heard Terrance say thanks, apparently under the assumption it had been my own gesture.

As more employees got word of the free food and began to pile into the conference room, I took the opportunity to slip out, returning to my office and shutting the door. I sucked in my lips as I pulled open a drawer and grabbed a box cutter before I walked around the desk to the boxes that sat on the floor.

Easily tearing open the first box, I retrieved an envelope that sat just inside. It simply had my name printed on the front, but somehow, I knew it was his handwriting. I opened it hesitantly, pulling out a single piece of paper.

Dear Stacey - 

I enjoyed meeting you Saturday. I read your book and it was excellent. I’m not exactly sure if we could “call it even” though, so I’m sending along some gifts for your daughters. I hope they enjoy them.

All the love. Harry.

P.S. The flowers are for you. x

I couldn’t have stopped the smile on my lips if I’d tried. Returning the letter to its envelope, I placed it next to the flowers on the desk. Inhaling deeply, I took in their aroma. Then I closed the box, not wanting to look inside just yet. I’d let the girls open it later and join in their glory.

When I made it back to the conference room, it was full of people and chatter. I smiled at Sonia from Accounting as I reached over and grabbed a plate.

“So, what is all this?” Lorelei whispered in my ear when I sat down and opened a water bottle.

I shrugged. “He was being nice.”

Lorelei glared at me. “Nice is buying our book and getting you another latte. This is something way more than nice.”

“He sent two boxes full of merch for Jaz and Em too,” I remarked before biting into a carrot. “And flowers for me.”

Although I wasn’t looking right at her, I could see Lorelei’s mouth form an ‘O’ out of the corner of my eye. I took a sip of my water and set it back on the table before she finally said my name.

“Stacey...” she began, “You’ve obviously made some sort of impression on him.”

Jabbing my plastic fork in my salad, I raised a brow. “And why wouldn’t I?”

Lorelei chuckled, dipping another strawberry in the fruit dip.

“Seriously though,” I said, “I think he just feels bad for knocking into me and making me spill my coffee. He’s very sweet.”

“Hmm,” Lorelei pursed her lips. “His mum raised him right.”

“Exactly.”

After filling my face with cake - Italian Creme, my favorite, how on earth did he know? - I took a quick bathroom break before heading back to my office. I tried my best to concentrate on the writing I’d planned to get done that day, but the mouthwatering scent of lilies and roses was making me light-headed. My fingers freezing over the keyboard, I debated whether or not to call the delivery company or the restaurant from which the food was catered to see if they could possibly give me a contact number for Harry Styles. But knowing who he was, the likelihood of that was slim to none.

By four o’clock I’d managed to get at least a handful of pages written, despite getting interrupted with other work that my job demanded, including a few random visits from Lorelei. I let out a huff as my phone rang on my desk once more, sure that I would have to answer a question with a simple yes or no.

“This is Stacey,” I voiced, though not in a pleasant way.

“Hi Stacey, this is Harry Styles, how are you?”

I literally felt my face soften as I sat back in my chair. “Hi, Harry. I’m wonderful, thank you.”

“Good, I trust you got everything I sent?”

I could hear the smile in his voice, which made me picture his dimples, which in turn made me smile.

“Yes,” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I did this a lot. I took a mental note. “I want to thank you, Harry, this is just...too kind. And completely unnecessary, I-”

“Nonsense,” he insisted. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Hmm,” I sounded, biting my lip. “Well, I can’t thank you enough. The girls are gonna go nuts tonight when I take these boxes home.”

“I’m glad,” Harry chuckled. “Speaking of tonight...um...I’m still in Houston until tomorrow. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner.”

“Oh...I-” I stumbled. “Um...tonight?”

I heard a small giggle before he said, “Yeah.”

“Oh, I’d...I’d love to Harry, but-”

“But what?”

I couldn’t help but feel a tingle on my skin at the sound of him saying “what”, not quite pronouncing the T at the end. He was so adorable and charming. And he was honest to goodness asking me out to dinner. Like a date. Suddenly, I couldn’t think of an excuse as to why I couldn’t go.

“But nothing,” I surrendered with a sigh. “I’d love to have dinner.”

“Great,” Harry replied. “There seems to be a lovely Italian restaurant across from my hotel. Do you like Italian?”

“Love it,” I commented.

“Wonderful. Shall I come pick you up or…”

“Oh no, Harry,” I interrupted. “I actually live outside of the city. It would be silly for you go out of your way and then come all the way back.”

“Honestly, it’s no trouble. I can send a car-”

“Please, no,” I argued. “I can meet you there, it’s fine.”

“Stacey…” Harry said, his voice gentle yet firm. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?”

A tiny sound escaped my lips as I nodded with the phone to my ear. “Okay.”

I gave Harry my address and we made plans for him to meet me at my apartment at 7:30. Even though I still thought it was a bit much, I didn’t want to come off rude since he was being so gracious. I gave him my cell number and by the time I hung up, I was nearly giddy with excitement, though I was trying my best to contain it.

“Lorelei,” I practically whispered when I rang her office. “Get in here.”

“What is it?” she pranced into the room ten seconds later, her heels clicking.

“We’re having dinner,” I muttered.

“We who, you and me?”

I shook my head. “Harry just called me.”

Lorelei raised her brows as a grin slowly spread across her face. In her typical fashion, she perched herself on the edge of my desk.

“What did I tell you?”

“Okay, so maybe he’s not just trying to pay for my blazer,” I remarked, feeling myself blushing.

“Please,” she smirked. “These flowers alone cost more than that Macy’s reject.” She leaned forward to inspect the fragrance. “Do you need me to babysit?”

“Oh my God, Lor, would you?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “I love your girls, and they love me.”

“You’re amazing, thank you.”

She beamed at me as she climbed off the desk. She knew how much I hated to ask my mother. Not that she didn’t ever watch my kids for me. She was just very good at making me feel like I was putting her out when I asked. Especially if it was last minute.

“So what are you gonna wear tonight?” Lorelei inquired. “I suggest something dark brown.”

“Bite me,” I sneered.

Lorelei chuckled, tossing her blonde locks over her shoulder. “Joking my dear. But I do think that black number you wore to the New Years party would knock his socks off.”

“Lor, that’s too fancy,” I crinkled my nose.

“Are you going to McDonald’s?”

I laughed. “No, but it’s not exactly a disco ball affair either. Maybe something a little less revealing.”

“Okay but…” she sighed, “please promise me you won’t go looking like you just came from a PTA meeting.”

I held my hands up. “I promise.”

I must’ve heard at least ten “oh my god”s in the last five minutes, and we weren’t even through the first box yet. Emery was the happiest nine-year-old I’d ever seen going through the items that Harry had sent. Jasmine was smiling big too, sometimes saying his name when she recognized his face on the merchandise.

I had to admit, I was pretty darn excited about the stuff too. His album wasn’t being officially released until the next Friday, but he’d sent copies for each of the girls and signed them, along with promo photos, posters, hats, bracelets, tote bags, keychains, and lots of other goodies.

When we tore into the second box, Emery was in heaven. It was all One Direction merch, from various stages of their career. I chuckled as she held a small pillow to her face. I kissed her on the cheek and told her I needed to start getting ready.

I was applying my lipstick when the doorbell rang, alerting me of Lorelei’s arrival. Emery shouted her announcement that she’d get it and within seconds I heard a squeal of delight. I walked into the living room just as Emery was pulling on Lorelei’s arm, guiding her to the boxes.

“He sent this all to me!” she exclaimed. “Well, to me and Jasmine.”

“I see!” said Lorelei as she sat down on the couch, her eyes wide. “Wow!” When I giggled, she lifted her head to see me. “Speaking of wow…”

“Is this okay?” I shrugged. I’d chosen an aqua blue dress that I rarely wore because I felt like it was too nice for work. I’d actually forgotten I had it until I dug through my closet and found it in the back.

“Definitely,” Lorelei nodded. “You look gorgeous.”

“Mommy, you’re so pretty!” Emery danced to me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“Thank you, baby,” I kissed her forehead. “Be good for Lorelei, okay?”

She nodded before skipping back to her boxes. I hadn’t told her Harry was coming. I wanted it to be a surprise. I’d only told her I was going out.

“Are you nervous?” I heard Lorelei ask in a whisper.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” I nodded.

Lorelei laughed. “C’mon, you got this. You’re awesome. Just don’t spill your wine and you’re good.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I rolled my eyes.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

“Fuck, he’s here,” I jumped.

“And early,” Lorelei raised her brows as she inspected her watch. “Nice.”

“Emery, you wanna answer the door for me?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, getting up from the floor. I sucked in my lips from the anticipation of her reaction, as well as my own nerves. Emery swung the door open, stopping frozen in her tracks, her arms out to her sides. “What in the…”

I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand. Emery’s mouth, however was wide open as she stared at Harry on the other side of the door frame.

“Hi!” he greeted. “Are you Emery?”

I saw her little chest puff up as she took in a deep breath and held it for a second before letting it out. “Oh...my...God!”

Harry laughed, an adorable crinkle by his eyes. I stepped up behind Emery, placing my hands on her shoulders.

“Harry, this is my youngest, Emery, who happens to be your biggest fan. And a little tongue tied right now.”

“Hello, Emery,” said Harry, extending his hand. “Lovely to meet you.”

Still a statue, I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I think it would be okay if you gave him a hug.”

In one split second, Emery stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso. She squeezed tight, the same way she usually hugged me. Sometimes her affectionate nature overwhelmed me. Harry didn’t seem to mind in the least as he hugged her back. I smiled at the sight of them, and it made my heart swell.

“Alright, Em,” I commented, “Let’s let Harry get inside.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” she giggled, stepping back.

I playfully mussed her hair as Harry crossed the threshold and I shut the door behind him.

“Hi,” he whispered as he stood next to me.

I grinned as I looked at him. He looked really handsome in a purple button-down and black jacket, black jeans and boots making his legs look even longer than necessary.

“Hi,” I whispered back.

“You look beauti-”

“Nooooooo!”

I jerked my head toward the loud and unfortunately familiar sound.

“Stacey!” called Lorelei as she emerged from Jasmine’s room. I hadn’t even noticed she’d left the living room. “I think she’s having another one.”

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way to the other side of the apartment.

“Noooooo!” Jasmine screamed again.

“What’s going on?” I heard Harry ask, but I was already to the doorway.

“My sister’s having a seizure,” Emery informed him softly.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” I tried to assure Jasmine as I walked around her bed to get to her. She was having spasms, her body jerking uncontrollably. I sat next to her, rubbing her back.

“Noooooo!”

I held her hand with my other one until she glared at me angrily. She tried to get up from the bed, but I knew that wasn’t a good idea.

“Jaz, you have to stay on the bed,” I instructed. “I don’t want you to fall.”

“Mommy!” she cried, bringing tears to my eyes. “Go!”

I knew she wasn’t really telling me to go. She was telling the seizure to go. She didn’t want it to happen. 

“I’m sorry, should I call 9-1-1?”

I looked up to see Harry in the doorway, a worried look on his face. Only my child could have made me momentarily forget his presence.

“No,” I shook my head. “It’ll be okay.”

“She has seizures from time to time,” Lorelei explained quietly.

“She might not even have one,” I commented as I continued to rub my daughter’s back. “She fights them off a lot.”

Jasmine continued to jerk, though her screaming had subsided. Her eyes were wide as she stared ahead.

“It’s okay, baby,” I murmured.

With one more jerk, Jasmine’s eyes rolled back, and her body froze. I laid her back on the bed, onto her side as she blew out hard breaths from her lips. I held onto her as I secretly cursed God for making my daughter go through this. After a minute or two, I said her name, making sure she could hear me. Her eyes fluttered open but quickly shut.

“Here ya go,” I heard behind me. I turned to see Harry holding a wet washcloth from the bathroom.

“Thanks,” I muttered, taking it from him. I wiped the drool and drops of blood from around my daughter’s mouth. She was still breathing heavily, but at least I knew the seizure was over.

I laid beside her, pushing her damp hair from her face and kissing her cheek. Then I ran my hand up and down her arm to soothe her. 

“Go to sleep,” I heard Jasmine declare.

“You’re ready to go to sleep?” I inquired.

“Yes.”

I kissed her forehead one last time before rising from the bed, recognizing that Harry had left the room. Then I whispered goodnight and turned out the light.

Emery met me halfway with a hug. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, baby,” I assured her.

My eyes met Harry’s then as he sat on the sofa next to Lorelei. He stood and walked over to me when Emery released me.

“I’m so sorry,” I told him.

He looked taken back as he placed his hands on my upper arms. “What for?”

“For...this,” I held out my arms. “I’m sure it’s not what you were expecting to walk into.”

“Stacey,” he said, his eyes focused on mine, “you never have to apologize. You’re her mother.”

I felt a single tear trickle down my cheek and my body began to tremble. I wasn’t sure if it was the emotional turmoil of what I’d just had to go through, or the extremely close vicinity which Harry stood before me, but when another tear began to fall, I didn’t stop it. He took me in his arms then and I fell against him, sobbing. He remained silent as he rubbed my back, just as I had rubbed Jasmine’s.

“Don’t cry, Mommy,” I heard Emery say.

I felt her hug me from behind just as Harry pulled back to look at me. His hand cupped my cheek while his thumb wiped away a tear.

“Um...I really am sorry about this,” I declared.

“I already said-”

“I mean tonight,” I interrupted. “Our date. I just...I don’t think I could leave her now.”

“I understand,” Harry nodded.

“Oh, you guys can still go out!” Lorelei called from the couch. “I doubt she’s gonna have another one, and even if she does, I can handle it.”

“Thanks, Lor, but I’d just feel more comfortable if I stayed.”

Lorelei held up her hands. “Say no more.” She rose from the sofa and grabbed her bag and keys. “Great to see you again, Harry.”

“You too, Lorelei,” he nodded with a wave.

“Get to bed, princess,” she instructed when Emery ran to give her a hug.

When the door shut behind her, I looked at Harry, embarrassment setting in. Then I quickly shifted my focus to Emery.

“C’mon, monkey,” I said. “Time for bed.”

Emery groaned, dropping her shoulders and turning for her bedroom.

“Goodnight, Emery,” called Harry.

My nine year old swiftly twirled around and ran back to Harry, giving him an even tighter squeeze than before. I raised my brows at him as I peeled her away from him, but he just chuckled and knelt down.

“Hey,” he said, pointing to his cheek. “Right here.”

Emery beamed at him before planting a kiss on his cheek, then wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she whispered.

When she finally let go, I followed her to her room and tucked her into bed. Then turning out the light and shutting the door, I walked back to the living room.

“She’s a hugger, that one,” remarked Harry.

I giggled. “Just a little.”

“You have beautiful kids, Stacey. You should be proud.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I am very proud of them. But not so much myself.”

“What do you mean?”

I sucked in my lips as I sat on the couch next to him. “Sometimes I think I’m a terrible mother.”

“What?” Harry raised his brows in question. “Why would you think that?”

I looked down at my lap, pretending to straighten my dress. “Well…” I swallowed, “Like with Jasmine. She’s Autistic and she has seizures. She’s pretty much non-vocal. She talks a little, but it’s usually just to tell you what she wants. You can’t really have conversations with her. Sometimes I feel…”

My words trailed off as I felt my throat start to close up.

“You feel what?”

“I feel like I did something to deserve this,” I choked.

I wasn’t looking at him. I couldn’t look at him. Not when I confessed something like that. He had to be wondering what in the hell he’d gotten himself into. One date - not even a date - and I was already an emotional mess.

His hand came into view and covered mine in my lap. Then he threaded his fingers through mine and lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. I finally looked up at him then, his eyes filled with kindness.

“You’re an amazing mum, Stacey” he declared. “I won’t allow you to think you’re not. And none of this is your fault, got that?”

I blinked and nodded slowly. He squeezed my hand then but didn’t let go. His eyes stayed on my face until I sighed, and I gazed around the room.

“So tell me more about your book,” I heard Harry request.

“Oh,” I blushed for some reason. “Like what?”

“Like how and when you started it. Writing with Lorelei. Have you known her a long time?”

“Well, Lorelei moved here from New York. She was a writer too, but neither of us had ever had anything published. After a long day at work, we went out for drinks and started talking about maybe writing something together. We spent the next few days brainstorming and decided we definitely wanted to give it a try. Two years later, and...here we are.”

“Two years?” Harry raised a brow.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I was going through a divorce then, so it took a while to even get started. I’d write some in my free time, but it seemed that free time was getting thinner and thinner. Lorelei would write a lot, but she’d slow down, feeling a little guilty that I couldn’t keep up. We put it on hiatus for a couple months until my divorce was final, then we picked it back up and wrote with a vengeance. When it was done, it still took a while to get through editing and publishing.”

“I see,” Harry nodded. “Well, it’s a really great book, Stacey.”

“You read it?”

“Of course, I told you I did. In the note.”

“I thought maybe you were just being nice. I mean, you actually read the whole thing?” I asked.

Harry chuckled. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, it’s not that, I-”

“Stacey,” Harry interrupted, leaning forward, his eyes demanding me to look at him. “I read your book. In one night, in fact. And I loved it.”

I was stunned. I couldn’t move. If it wasn’t for my chest rising and falling, I would have questioned whether or not I was breathing. My lips parted to say something, but all I could manage was “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded.

I stared at his face a little longer, more than necessary in fact, and I suddenly got chills all over. Lord have mercy, he was good looking. Shaking my head, I suddenly recalled our original mission.

“Shit, we were gonna go to dinner,” I groaned. “And I don’t think I have anything here other than leftovers.”

Harry shrugged. “No worries.”

“You’re probably hungry,” I said, crinkling my nose. “Nothing around here delivers except pizza.”

“I’m fine with that.”

I made a face. “Really?”

Harry nodded with a grin. “I just wanted to have dinner with you, love. I didn’t care where.”

I probably looked like a fool the way I stared at him. Who was this guy? Was he for real? His smile grew, his dimple dipping in his cheek and I felt my face get warm. Quickly, I cleared my throat, releasing my hand from his grip.

“Pizza it is.”

“I have a question, Stacey,” Harry spoke softly while we sat at my dining table.

I loved how he said my name. He said it with determination, yet it slipped from his tongue like honey. And the way he looked at me when he spoke to me made me feel important.

“Okay,” I raised my brows as I eyed him across the table.

“In The Loving Kind, had Gavin not told Melissa to leave and go back to Louisiana, do you think they would have stayed together?”

I smiled at him, reaching for my glass of water. “What do you think?”

“I asked you first,” Harry smirked.

I shook my head. “See, that’s the whole point, Harry. It’s open to interpretation. Although there was closure at the end, it’s still sort of a cliffhanger. The big what if.”

“I think it depends on the reader’s idea of Melissa, too,” Harry remarked.

“How do you figure?”

“Well,” Harry paused, taking a swig of water and setting down his glass, “if the reader thinks Melissa is the one the title refers to, they probably would assume yes, she would have stayed in New York and tried to make it work. But perhaps Melissa is not ‘the loving kind’.”

“Hmm,” I sounded, leaning forward, my hands folded underneath my chin.

“Maybe the title refers to Gavin. Not necessarily that he’s ‘the loving kind’ either, but that Melissa was hoping he would be. And in the end, she realized it was all her perception of him, and that him telling her to go was the answer she was seeking, the closure to finally turn and walk away.”

I stared at him for a while, a grin slowly spreading across my face.

“Harry Styles, you astound me.”

He copied my smile, sitting back in his chair. I changed the focus of conversation to him then, telling him I enjoyed his acting in the movie he’d been in recently. He told me how much of a thrill it was to work with Christopher Nolan, and how he got several movie offers since then, but for now he was focusing on his music before choosing his next movie role.

I opened a bottle of wine I’d forgotten I had and before I knew it, it was nearly midnight. The time had seemed to fly by, and I was having a great time just chatting with Harry. He was so charming and witty.

“Oh my god, Harry!” I exclaimed as I rose from my chair to walk to the curtains in the living room. “You took a car service here!”

I looked out the window as if I could even find the car below. Harry chuckled.

“Relax, love, I called them hours ago.”

“Oh,” I turned back to face him.

“Come, sit with me,” he said, gesturing to the sofa.

Harry sat on the end, his glass of wine in his hand. I sat on the other. He raised a brow and then giggled.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you far enough away?” he quipped, beckoning me with his finger.

This time I knew I was blushing. “Sorry.”

When I scooted closer to him, he laid his arm across the back of the couch and turned slightly to face me.

“How long were you married?” Harry inquired.

I glared at him. “Seriously? We’re gonna talk about that?”

Harry shrugged. “I wanna know you, Stacey.”

I let out a slow sigh. “Okay. Um...we were together for sixteen years, but officially married for six.”

“Oh,” said Harry, not seeming the least bit turned off by that knowledge. “What does your ex husband do?”

I frowned. “He’s a music teacher.”

“How did you meet?”

I sighed once more. I was really uncomfortable. “At a concert. Do we really have to talk about this?”

“Oh, so you’re a music lover too?”

I beamed at him. “Yes. Very much. Before I met my ex, my dream was to be a singer.”

“Really?” Harry inquired. “You sing?”

“Mmm, mostly just in the shower and the car nowadays, but yeah.”

“Ah, okay, I knew I’d find it,” Harry remarked, sitting back.

“Find what?”

“Something else that makes your face light up like that.”

I stared at him. “Like what?”

“Just like that,” he pointed to my smile. “I’ve seen it four times now.”

“What were the other three?” I asked curiously.

“Well, when you talk about your kids. Kind of obvious. And when you talk about your book. And now music.”

“That’s only three,” I remarked. “What’s the fourth?”

Harry smirked, pulling his arm from behind the couch. “I’ll tell you later,” he said as he stood and walked to the bathroom.

I took the empty wine glasses to the kitchen, setting them in the sink. I leaned against the counter, grinning stupidly to myself. This young man had some sort of effect on me. I felt giddy, little butterflies in my stomach. I lifted my head when Harry returned, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“So are you gonna tell me?” I begged, rounding the counter.

“Tell you what?”

“The fourth thing!”

Harry chuckled. “You really wanna know?”

“Yes, dammit!”

This made Harry laugh harder. His adorable smile made me give one in return even though I was trying not to.

“No,” he shook his head. “I think I’ll keep you guessing.”

“You’re mean,” I pouted, crossing my arms.

“C’mere, Stacey,” he insisted, pulling me to him, his voice low and his tone now serious. “I have to say goodbye now. My car’s here.”

I bit my bottom lip. Although I knew this time would come, I didn’t want the night to end. I hadn’t enjoyed a man’s company this much in a really long time. He was sweet and comforting. And heaven help me, I was attracted to him.

Harry seemed to study my face for a minute, his green eyes making me shiver. Sliding his hand under my ear, he tilted his head slightly and leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft, brushing mine lightly at first before adding more pressure.

Something hit me in that moment. Truth. Realization that I probably would never see this man again. So, I got brave and kissed him back. I grabbed the front of his shirt before slipping my hands up his chest and around his neck. A tiny sound escaped his throat as I kissed him deeper, allowing our tongues to meet. I tasted the wine, and I felt my entire body melt down to my toes.

“Mmm,” he sounded when our lips parted and he rested his forehead against mine. “That was nice.”

I merely nodded, my vocal chords betraying me. Harry dragged his teeth across his bottom lip and released his hands from me.

“I gotta go, Stacey,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“Goodnight, love,” he added, giving me one last kiss.

He grabbed his jacket from the nearby chair, and I walked him to the door.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I smiled. “Thank you...for tonight. And everything.”

I watched him leave down the stairs to the parking lot below where a huge car was waiting for him. He turned and waved once more before getting in.

Shutting the door, I felt a sudden emptiness. It was like Harry was the sun and he had come in and brightened my home. And now he was gone.

After getting ready for bed, I was just about to crawl under the covers when I remembered I’d left my phone in my bag on the counter. Retrieving it, I noticed I had two new texts from a number I didn’t recognize. But I knew immediately from whom they were. Before reading them, I saved the number in my contacts, simply under Harry. Then I opened the texts, the biggest smile spreading across my face as I walked back to the bedroom.

So the fourth thing - when you look at me.

Sweet dreams, Stacey. Tonight was lovely. x H.

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[wellpresseddaisy]

My Soul Revive pt. 2

His ears buzzed strangely, and not from apparition. They had since “he’s your godfather”, but it wouldn’t do to be seen in a flap. He and Narcissa worked so hard to keep Draco from ever seeing them in a panic, a relic of his first so terribly delicate years of life. If they behaved as if everything was fine, no matter the crisis, then surely Draco wouldn’t panic either.

Severus.

His heart clenched painfully. He’d allowed himself a few awful moments in his dressing room earlier, but if Severus lived…

Out of all of them, Severus deserved a quiet, happy life where he was thoroughly spoilt most. Would he let them give him that now? If.

The moment their feet touched ground, he and Narcissa reached for one another’s hand and dashed for the Shack. That Severus would be so injured here, where he’d already experienced several lifetimes of terror, seemed like the universe laughing at them all. They entered carefully, wary of traps, though anything left by him should have evaporated with his soul (finally, finally).

Lucius heard Granger behind them, puffing a bit. One would think that being friends with Potter would encourage one toward some type of exercise program, preferably with an emphasis on sprinting, but it didn’t seem to have occurred to the girl. He edged ahead of Narcissa, opening the first door off the passage, and froze.

Severus.

No one else wore that many layers of solid black. A shallow, rasping breath froze him in his tracks.

“He breathes still.”

Narcissa went still behind him for a moment.

“Conjure a light and come with me. Miss Granger, I am going to ask you to wait in the hall. I don’t think Severus would appreciate you seeing him in this state.”

“If you need anything, I can apparate for it.” Granger spoke unsteadily. “It’s the least…”

“He’ll pull through, I’m sure,” Lucius spoke bracingly. “He’s too stubborn to do anything else.”

Granger gave a watery sort of snort at that.

Lucius ushered Narcissa into the room ahead of him and shut the door. He conjured the sort of light he knew she’d need and they both froze.

Kreacher stood next to Severus, searching frantically through his robes.

“His Grace sent Kreacher! Kreacher keeps track and His Grace knew!” The poor elf pulled his ears viciously. “Kreacher cannot find it.”

“It’s good you’re here, Kreacher,” Narcissa said as she knelt beside Severus and surveyed the utter wreck of his throat. “It’s going to take both of us to pull this off. Have you given him anything?”

“Used the Black Elf magic, Madame Cissa,” Kreacher seemed to calm. “Kreacher is looking for the potion he knows Master Severus carries!”

“I have it here.” She pulled a vial from her box. “The anti-venin. He gave everyone a few vials of it after Mr. Weasley was attacked. Can you—”

Kreacher took the vial so Narcissa could set herself up. Lucius looked away as she cut Severus’ clothing away from his wounds. It seemed indecent to see him so vulnerable. That his chest still rose and fell was a miracle.

“Blood replenisher, wound cleaner, I am so happy that snake is dead, skin knitting potion, topical anti-venin, if you die I will follow you into the afterlife and murder you myself, Severus.” Narcissa muttered as she organized what she needed.

“Once I get the potions into him, Kreacher, I’m going to need your help calling on the family magic. His pulse is…not what I would like.”

“His Grace said to do whatever Kreacher deemed necessary.”

How she sounded so calm Lucius would never know. His role, thankfully, was to hold the light steady and relay any orders to Granger. Lucius kept his eyes toward the window and listened to the low murmur of Narcissa and Kreacher at work. The soft glug of potions and the rustle of bandages formed a backdrop for the surreal night.

Severus lived.

He would continue to live if Narcissa had her way.

There would be a future for them.

He held onto that thought as Narcissa began a soft chant. His skin prickled as a thread of familiar magic wound through the room. The Black magic answered her children, always. He knew Narcissa would have to make some sacrifice. If called on, he would add his own to save Severus. Blood, most likely, for healing.

There were reasons those of Black blood called upon the family magic so sparingly. Always, always they paid a price. Sometimes the price paid was transient, like giving some blood. Sometimes it was permanent. No one had ever worked out what would be asked of them for specific situations. It changed every time.

He glanced down and tried not to blanch. Narcissa had indeed sacrificed her own blood and now drew a series of runes in it down Severus’ chest from his forehead.

Her chant rose and rose, the Black magic swirling about her, now a silver mist thick in the room. Lucius held his wand steady. He wouldn’t fail either of them no matter how unnerved he felt. Not now, when they were so close. The mist whirled about them, going from a dispersed cloud to a heaving stream and poured into Severus.

Narcissa sat back on her heels, her chest heaving, and looked up at him, smiling like she did when she’d dipped a bit too deep into the champagne punch. Her eyes were solid silver, shining queerly in the conjured light.

“He’ll live,” she laughed, low and delighted. “He’ll live.”

Lucius let out a deep breath. “Thank you, my love.”

“Let’s take him home. He’ll be very weak for quite some time, but we can move him.” She tried to stand and her knees gave out. “In a moment, perhaps. The family magic hasn’t been called upon in some time.”

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

Draco stared at Weasley over top of Potter, who seemed to have gone catatonic now he’d done what he set out to do.

“Don’t suppose you could see your way clear to feeding him. I don’t think he’s eaten since…” Weasley trailed off, clearly attempting to think. “Is it Wednesday now?”

Draco sighed and suddenly knew just how his parents felt trying to deal with anyone not a Malfoy.

“Please do not tell me he hasn’t eaten properly in days again? I thought we got past that last year?”

“Right, I won’t tell you that, then,” Weasley replied.

Draco surveyed Potter and made a decision. He slipped his wand into his hand and sent a quick cleaning charm at him.

“I still want him to scrub under hot water, but he’s hygienic enough to eat something, at least. How much weight do you think he’s lost this time?”

“A stone at least. He’s always been on the titchy side but he isn’t usually this small. I reckon there’s more going on, but he wouldn’t see any of the healers Madame Pomfrey brought in today…yesterday? When does it stop being today?”

That confirmed Draco’s suspicions. Honestly, sometimes he wondered if Potter really was Professor Snape’s love child they were so similar.

“You sound particularly gormless when you say things like that, Weasley,” Draco answered airily. “Can you help move him to the sitting room?”

Instead of using magic like a civilized person, Weasley scooped Potter into his arms. For some reason, that made Draco want to hiss like a stepped-on cat. He could have done that just as easily. The thought of Potter nestling his head around his collarbone had him swallowing hard.

“Could an elf please bring a tea tray and something very light to eat to the green sitting room,” Draco called as he led the way for Weasley, trying to ignore his own feelings. “And something more substantial for Weasley.”

“Thanks, Malfoy.” Weasley at least possessed some manners. “I think I had something right after, but all that’s a blur. Nice to be somewhere that isn’t Hogwarts, to be honest.”

Draco had been trying very hard not to think of the nearly three-year siege they’d endured. This was his first night home since he’d stepped onto the train after Easter in their fifth year. Strange that it should feature both a desperate rescue attempt and Potter fleeing to him. Honestly, he’d expected a quieter homecoming having left Potter at the school. Perhaps Weasley was right, that night they’d all got squiffy on purloined fire whiskey, and the ridiculousness of Potter’s life was like an infection or a mold.

“What happened with Potter today?” Draco asked quietly as Weasley settled Potter onto one of the long sofas.

“He…I’m not sure I’m the one who should tell you all of it. He didn’t have a chance to tell us everything. I can tell you what happened with his parents,” Weasley said, finally getting Potter in a position that looked somewhat comfortable. “Harry, you need to come back for a bit and eat something, right now please.”

The tone, that brusque command, surprised Draco. He really did sound like his mother. Potter groaned, his eyelashes fluttering.

“I know you aren’t down all the way. Come on, wake up,” Weasley tapped Potter’s cheek and turned back to Draco. “He gets like this when he hasn’t slept properly for a while…just complete collapse, but he really needs food before he can sleep.”

“And a wash,” Draco shuddered. “Cleaning charms only do so much.”

“Ever bathed someone before?” Weasley asked all-too-cheerfully.

“You’ve bathed him?” Draco had no idea where the raging jealousy came from. He wasn’t jealous of Weasley, not at all. Malfoys didn’t do petty jealousy.

“You’ve got to know he’s rubbish at taking care of himself, yeah?” Weasley sat on one side of Potter. “It isn’t often, but when he’s like this it’s better than letting him drown. You know it’s like he’s my little brother?” Weasley sounded infuriatingly patronizing.

Draco ought to have realized, but some of the rumors…and how close Potter seemed with both Weasley and Granger.

“Of course I know that,” he grumbled.

Thankfully, the elves chose that moment to send up the trays. One held delicate, thinly cut wedges of buttered toast and a tureen of fluffy scrambled eggs. The second held the makings for substantial sandwiches. The third, Draco was relieved to see, held what he’d last seen as  the nursery tea service. The heavy pot and more substantial teacups meant no one had to worry about delicate china. He poured three cups of tea and made himself a sandwich while Weasley coaxed a reasonable serving of eggs and toast into Potter.

“Yes, you can go to sleep as soon as you finish,” Weasley huffed.

Draco paid them little attention and bit into his sandwich. Glorious. The last few months had been mostly things grown in the Hogwarts kitchen gardens, porridges, potatoes, and whatever game Hagrid managed to catch. The Hogwarts elves did their best, but they hadn’t had their usual stores to work with. Roast beef, wholemeal bread, horseradish sauce, and that piquant little salad the elves made had never tasted so wonderful to him before. Perhaps he’d try some of the ham next, with the crumbly sharp cheddar. He found he had a good deal more appetite than he’d expected.

“That’s Harry gone for a bit,” Weasley commented.

Draco looked over to see Potter passed out between them. Even with the blood and whatever else had been on him magicked off, he still looked dreadful.

“He hasn’t really been sleeping lately. Nightmares, you know, from the soul tie.”

“A what?!” Draco screeched. “Please tell me Potter wasn’t subject to...to…that sort of abomination!”

“You sound just like your mum when you do that, you know?” Weasley began. “All I know is what Harry told us his parents told him. They said it was a soul tie that nearly killed him when your parents did the necessary in ’81. And I’m not blaming them for anything since no one really knew at that point except for Aunt Lily and she wasn’t telling because she probably did something really illegal to shield him from it, unlike some sanctimonious arseholes.”

Draco stared at him. “My parents did what in  ’81?”

“Er…Malfoy…they’re responsible for the first decimation of Dark Lord Dirtnap.”

Draco couldn’t hold back a snort at the name. “Don’t make me laugh right now, Weasley. I’m being serious.”

“Sorry. Habit. Your parents killed him and destroyed his first body is what Mum told me. Then your dad went on to go after the Horcruxes he knew about. No one knows how they found out or decided to turn, but I’d put my money on something with Professor Snape.”

Draco could only blink at that. His parents. His parents. Did that? And never told him?

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Weasley shrugged. “You could pass the ham, though.”

[mgnifiqueyoo]

— "love at first spark."

requested by: anon pairing: zb1 matthew x fem!reader song recommendation: dear no one (tori kelly) lowercase is intended… — a/n: y'aaaaall, i really wanted to start writing a zb1 oneshot but i actually didn't know where to start but thanks to the person who requested this, here's my first ever seok matthew oneshot! i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! ^^ (btw, i am also thinking of making a masterlist for all my uploaded projects very soon!)

[ total words: 1.9k ]

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───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“ricky, i’m fine. you don’t have to call me every hour. tell mom and dad that i’m doing just great, okay?”

it was the second week since you moved into your new dorm. flying across the country is not really what you expected at all this year. you already had your plans; just trying out an online entrance exam to a university abroad and then, not expecting anything from it. you could say that it was all “just for fun” until you received an e-mail.

and that letter basically told you that you had to move out. 

“look, i don’t trust you on your own and i’m just looking out for you,” your brother said back in defense, probably already making up an excuse for this call to even take place. “... i’m gonna miss you a lot, y/n.”

“me too.” you paused for a bit as you remembered how fun it was to be back home. with each day that passes, things are changing and you just couldn’t believe that this was the actual start of something new. out of the country and pursuing something so difficult– law. “... m’kay, i’ll text you later after i review. love you, ricky.”

“... love you, too.”

ending the call yourself, you chuckled at the way he sounded so hesitant to say those words back. ricky would refuse to admit it but there was always that soft side in him that comes out every time something completely life-changing takes place; the type of thing that doesn't really have a clear answer in the end.

to him, this was one of those things.

by the time you got back to your plans, you were already so eager to start cleaning out your desk to spend the rest of your hours with your nose stuck in a book– and, oh, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"huh?" you stood up straight after bending down the table, your palms still looking for that bright, vibrant blueish aqua highlighter you'd always use for notes. "... just a second!"

nonetheless, you made your way to the door even though you had no idea who else could've been behind it. and once you opened it, you were met with a guy who held a mysterious box; he had dirty blond hair and a nice set of teeth that seemed to have been covered once he saw you.

but why?

"sorry, who are you?" "here's your order… ma'am?"

he didn't even sound sure when he said that last word as you took the box in your own hands, your brows furrowed. god, you were just so confused. you didn't even buy anything!

"... there's no way you're jonathan whales, right?"

that's when things got clearer for you as the tensed muscles on your face slowly loosened up… but at what cost? this guy in front of you obviously just got ditched by some horrible customer. 

"well," your smile widens but it only made him feel a lot more unsettled, especially with those dead eyes of yours staring back at him, "i'm not a johnathan apparently."

the boy in front of you bit his bottom lip, frowning as he squinted his eyes in anxiousness and a whole lot of uncertainty. he scratches the back of his neck, confused yet curious eyes looking around your dorm room from the outside as he later lets out a defeated sigh.

"... have i been scammed?"

your shoulders slowly rose up as a grimace was plastered on your face, your head nodding hesitantly in response. the blond had every right to roll his eyes, letting out a deep breath as you quickly assumed that he didn't like the way you reacted.

but in your defense, you were just starting your weekend with a supposed two-hour long review session. you didn't expect an unpaid package and a scammed seller to come by your doorstep!

"hold on… let me check my account." he raised his pointer finger up for a bit, pulling out the phone from his hoodie's pocket. not once did he smile at the view of whatever it was on his screen. "... oh, no."

"not a good news, isn't it?" "yeah… i just got robbed."

you widen your eyes, baffled at this ridiculous situation happening right in front of you. ‘i can’t just leave him here, can’t i?’ you thought to yourself, also letting out the same deep breath he did. — well, all those things you wanted to do? they’re gonna be done tomorrow because you feel the need to help this guy.

looking down at the package you held, you noticed how neatly it was prepared and you knew that this guy wanted to impress his customer. “... what’s your name?”

“matthew... matthew seok.” he then stared at the bulletin board behind your desk, raising both of his eyebrows in what seemed like fascination. “and i think we go to the same university, miss l/n? i’m really sorry- i need to take this back.”

as he reached for the package, you frowned, pulling it away from him. for some unknown reason, you didn’t want to return to him. 

“no,” you argued shortly, causing him to tilt his head, making him even more confused than before, “i’ll pay for it.”

the blond lets out a chuckle that is obviously having a lot of feelings mixed. you couldn’t help but mentally curse yourself for refusing to return the parcel to him. “you don’t have to do that-”

“this is mine now. i’ll pay for it.” your arm covered the lid of the box in baby blue shades, your brows furrowing further as matthew seemed to not get the memo yet. was it because it’s his first time meeting someone as persistent as this? or was it because he just didn’t know what to do? anyway, you cared less enough to answer those questions.

and instead, paid attention to this weird, sudden desire of this random parcel that you didn’t even purchase. “listen, i know you want to help me but i don’t want you spending your money on this.” matthew’s growing concern didn’t fade away at all as his hands reached for the box once more, resulting in you flinching as you held it in your arms tightly. — this is the weirdest you’ve ever been.

‘why am i so obsessed with this?’ you asked yourself silently in a form of an uncertain gulp and a puzzled, blank stare at the seller, who still stood by your doorstep. “what’s inside of it?”

“... well, you don’t need to know-” “is it drugs?” “what? no!”

but no matter how many times the guy tried to stop you, your hands started tearing the tapes around the box’s lid and body. — this is the most chaotic you’ve ever been. “ma’am, calm down!” he grabbed your wrists to catch your attention and it did… in the most unusual way.

in fact, it was so unusual that your gripping hands let go of the box, letting the package fall on the floor, a loud thud and a few cracks were heard. looking down, you soon realized that it was a record player. 

'oh, what a shame,' you thought, deep into your regrets. it was like there was this rope pulling you towards it even though you didn't know what this "johnathan whales" guy bought.

and apparently, it was really pretty, sky blue record player.

“i… i told you i’d pay for it,” you blurted out, unsure of the consequences as matthew kept his head down, taking a few deep breaths. audible and full of shame. you were sure that you just made the situation worse. “i’m sorry.”

as his hands let go of your wrists, you swore that something stinging was left on your skin. no, it wasn’t an insect or the itchy feeling of your sweatshirt. it wasn’t even the wind that entered your room from the windows… it was something else.

and there were sparks of it.

in pink and are all over your arms, glowing before they faded away like nothing; like it was some smoke.

“did you just… see that?” matthew did not wait for a second to let it pass, staring right into your soul with no plans of looking somewhere else. “you saw that, right? am i just hallucinating or-”

“no, i saw it too.” you couldn’t look away from him, founding comfort in the fact that he also saw (and felt) the same thing. not to mention, it didn’t look like it was just a faint glimpse– it was like fireworks in the afternoon skies, especially the ones before the clock strikes five o’clock. 

the boy then took a step back, realizing that he still held your arms as the time-stopping ambiance slowly left the room; but it lingered as if hours had gone by. “... what do you think was it?” he rocked himself back and forth in an almost unnoticeable way, little by little. you could see the genuine curiosity in his eyes but you were left with no answer.

i mean, how does someone know the reason behind that? seeing magenta sparks? it’s already so delusional just by listening to those words. “i’m not sure about that… do you want to talk about it?” you had no idea that you opened a new path for him as he kept his head tilted, jaw slightly left hanging as he smiled with his pretty teeth. 

“are you kidding? of course! i mean, you’d never see anything like that everyday!” he joked, making you let out a chuckle that was still very much lost in the moment. 

finding yourself staring at him, you woke yourself up in the middle of it, standing by the side of the doorframe to let him walk in as he giggled, oddly settled after all that disaster earlier as you began to slowly see the bright side in it, too.

“can you give me a moment to fix this mess?" you asked, which made him nod almost immediately, later walking his way in. you expected him to sit on the solo couch to make himself at least feel at home but he only stood, looking around with his bright eyes. 

and again, it made you smile for no reason. “so, you study law, huh? that’s pretty hard, isn’t it?” his eyes were glued to the textbooks that were piled on your desk as you chuckled, shrugging right after. 

“well, it’s something that i really wanted to do,” you said back, slightly biting the tip of your tongue as you remembered the mess you’ve made off of his product. “matthew, i’m so sorry for what happened. i’ll pay for it, i promise-”

“hey, i just told you that you don’t have to! we’ll just… i don’t know? tell this to the police? maybe they could do something.” he interrupted you, still pushing his priorities over your suggestion. and even though you didn’t like that, he sure did have a point. none of this was your fault. if only the scammer was a genuine customer, this wouldn’t have taken place.

but something tells you that this was meant to happen. you’re just not sure why.

once you returned to the ruined box with the badly damaged record player, his glare followed every move you made. maybe even syncing with the rhythm of your breathing. “... would you let me help you with that?” he offered as you turned to look back at him, exerting extra effort, considering that you’re crouched to the ground with broken pieces in both of your hands. 

“that’d be great.” you laughed as he did so too before continuing to sit down next to you, willing to share the work with you at least. 

when silence was starting to take over, the blond paused for a while as he couldn’t help but stare at you and it intrigued him. was it the way you were so determined in helping him? was it because of how odd the situation was? he never had a clue. “i think it’s not just my money that was stolen.” 

you faced him in response, raising an eyebrow with eyes shining in interest. “what else was stolen, then?” you let out another laugh once more, noticing the way you felt drawn to him more and more. for a bit, he seemed like he didn’t want to say those next few words but of course, he wouldn’t let such a perfect chance pass.

“... i think you just stole my heart.”