#hint of fluff

[criminalamnesia]

ok this is the end of the little tolerate it series— BUT I’m writing two different endings!! so here’s ending 1 :)

part one here and part two here

ending version 2 here

when he saw you that day on the street and tried to stop you, you had kept walking. hadn’t even turned your head, as if you knew it was him speaking.

of course you’d known it was him. he couldn’t blame you for ignoring him, honestly— he had been awful to you. he fully recognized that now, after years of being alone and mandated therapy and an honorable discharge.

he recognized how he let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he was too damn wrapped up in himself. but he had a right to be.

he had a right to not want to celebrate coming home. had a right to want peace and quiet once escaping from the sounds of war and death. he just should’ve communicated that with you instead of pulling away.

he’s grown. he understands now. and he knows you don’t owe him anything— hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped him across the face for this, but he needed to try.

he knew it was selfish of him. you’d moved on, surely. years had passed and you’d grown. he’s sure that naivety he once found charming is long gone, most likely from his doing.

he takes a deep breath, fist raised to knock on the door to your house. it’s small and quaint. something he definitely could’ve seen you picking out when the two of you had still been together. maybe not all of you had changed.

he’d gotten the address through Laswell as a parting gift. and he didn’t know why it was the one thing that came to mind— but it was, and now he’s here. standing on your porch with his fist in the air like a fucking creep.

he pushes out an exhale and knocks. all is silent inside the house, and he knocks again, the second one easier than the first.

“coming!” he hears you call from inside. he steels himself. readies himself for attack, for battle. it was something he couldn’t quite shake, even if he’d been retired for a year now. those instincts really never leave you.

the door swings open, and the smile you were sporting instantly drops.

“what are you doing here?” there’s venom in your tone. he doesn’t shy away.

“love—” he begins, but you scoff and start to shut the door.

“actually, I don’t want to know. get off my porch before I call the cops—”

before the door can click shut, he reaches a hand out and blocks you from fully shutting it. you look down at his hand, bewildered.

“move your hand.” you speak through gritted teeth. he stands his ground.

“love,” he starts again, pushing the words out quickly to avoid getting cut off again. “y’don’t owe me anythin’ and I know that. but can I at least apologize? please?”

you stare at him. he keeps his hand in the door, watching your face intently. he can’t tell what’s going on behind your eyes.

you take a beat. two. three. then you shut your eyes tightly as you inhale, open them as you release the breath, and open the door wider.

“you’ve got five minutes to speak your piece, and I hope you know I’m doing this for you, not me. I got over you a long time ago, and because I see myself as a halfway decent person, I’m going to let you do this. then you can leave and never come back. understand?”

he gives a small nod. “understood.”

you step aside and he enters your house, eyes already scanning his surroundings. it’s cute and airy, comfortable and full of you.

pictures of you and friends on the walls. lamps that look a hundred years old on end tables. big windows letting the sun shine in and onto a plethora of plants. colorful artwork and pillows and fabrics. it’s a house full of you, of life, and he finds himself envying it.

he doesn’t know why. maybe because it’s something so normal, and something he’s never experienced. he didn’t get that before he left home, and he certainly didn’t get it in the military. he still doesn’t have it now. he’s still struggling to figure out who he is without a gun in his hand.

“nice place,” he says, and he means it.

you roll your eyes as you walk towards the blue, comfortable looking couch situated to the right. he follows dutifully.

you gesture towards the couch, and he takes the hint. he sits down, sinking into the cushion, and watches as you move to stand across from him. he knows you’re putting distance between the two of you. he doesn’t blame you.

you were never the problem.

he was.

“five minutes, starting now. best believe I’m timing your ass,” you mutter out, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the screen. setting a timer, most likely.

best to get on with it, then.

“I owe you an apology, and I ‘ave since y’left. before tha’, actually. I was an ass, and I know tha’ now. you had every right to leave, and you have every right to hate me—”

you gave a mirthless, hollow laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. you were putting up your walls, protecting yourself.

“you put me in therapy, did you know that? years of it. broke me down and crushed me into tiny pieces. made me think I was the problem, that I deserved to be treated that way. ruined my trust and my confidence.”

your tone was bitter. your nails dug into the skin of your arms.

“you were never the problem,” he says, his words firm. he stand then, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “I was. I know tha’ now. I pulled away when I should’ve communicated, or hell— broke things off sooner.”

“so that’s why you’re here then? to tell me you wished you would’ve broken up with me before I broke up with you?”

god, that was not what he meant, and he struggled to find the way to put his thoughts into words.

“no, f’course not, love. I’m tryin’ to say I strung y’along, made things worse, and—”

“and what?” you interrupted.

“an’ im sorry, love. I know it probably doesn’t mean anythin’ anymore. but i am. deeply.”

you didn’t speak for a minute. your eyes studied his face. he knew you were probably taking in the obvious signs of age, of battles he came back from when you were no longer there.

“you going on a suicide mission? is that why you’re here? making amends before you die so you can face the afterlife with a clear conscience?”

he shook his head, taking a small step forward. “no. I— I was discharged. a bit ago, actually.”

“congrats,” you deadpanned.

“tha’s not tha’ point,” he sighed. “they made me go to therapy for a while. unpack all tha’ shit they put me through. and the shrink brought up you once, and it got me thinkin’—”

“so you’re here because your shrink told you to say sorry?”

“bloody hell, love, let me finish,” exasperation was clear in his tone, but he tried to reel it in. he reminded himself that you didn’t owe him shit. you could kick him out right now. he was here because of your allowance, and the second you stopped tolerating him, he’d be back on the porch.

you raised your eyebrows but kept your mouth clamped shut.

“I was an ass when I was with you, and tha’s on me, not you. I was dealin’ with my own shit, and havin’ you celebrate me and boastin’ about my bravery and shit— it didn’t— I couldn’t stand it. you don’t understand, love, and you never will— and tha’s not your fault. s’mine, and I’m still comin’ to terms with all tha’ shit. and I should’ve communicated tha’ with you instead of pullin’ away.”

silence filled the air between the two of you. he could hear the tick of a clock nearby. two ticks. three ticks. four. five.

“what do you want from me, then?” you spoke, and your voice was soft. he could hear the tremble in it— that old you slipping back in, and god he wanted to hold you.

he remembered loving you. he still knew what that felt like, even if was so long ago. and that love was creeping back in, that need to protect you coming back like a tidal wave.

“nothin’.” he said.

“nothing.” you repeated. he nodded.

the timer on your phone went off. five minutes, on the dot.

you clicked it off and looked at him. he was already moving towards the door.

“wait—” you called out to him, and as he turned back to face you, he could tell you hadn’t meant to. it had slipped out subconsciously, and he could see you fighting yourself on what your next words would be.

“I— I don’t forgive you,” you told him. “I don’t know if I ever will. but I— you don’t deserve to be alone. not after all you’ve done.”

he looked at you, the fingers of his hands twitching as he waited for you to speak again.

you took a deep breath and turned your attention to your feet. “I’m here. if you need someone to talk to about whatever. um— I—”

“it’s alrigh’, love. y’dont have to say anythin’ you don’t mean.”

you shook your head. “I do mean it. I admired you when we were together, y’know? you were everything to me— and that’s not something that ever fully goes away. I kinda hate you for everything you did,” you gave a small laugh. “but I don’t want you to suffer, okay? maybe we can— can get coffee or something next week. yeah?”

your eyes were glassy. he resisted the urge to reach for you. he was a protector, it was in his nature. he’d been too wound up in himself back then to realize that the trait he’d showcased on the battlefield should’ve applied to his home life, too. applied to his relationship. to you.

“yeah.” he nodded, his voice soft. he gave you a small smile. “tha’ would be nice.”

you nodded. he looked at you for a moment longer, taking in everything that had changed. but there was still the hint of that naive, youthful you, and that made him smile a little wider.

he turned and walked out the door.

————

author’s note:

muahahahaha ambiguous ending. do they get back together?? no?? do they ever get coffee?? it’s up to you!

this is ending one, keep a look out for ending 2 :)

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Trouble

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When Bucky first meets you, he thinks you're nothing but trouble. Eventually, it becomes a nickname you answer to.

Disclaimer: fluff with steamy moments at the end, enemies-ish to lovers, hint of fake dating as Bucky is Reader's wedding date, Bucky gets a little jealous, sharing a hotel room, reader works for Shield, Sam and Maria are mentioned to be engaged, swearing. Not fully proof read.

“Hey, Trouble.” 

You gave a short sigh, but kept the smile on your face. “Morning, Buck.”

Bucky had been calling you ‘Trouble’ since the first day he met you. Granted, having first met you, he thought you were trouble. You’d been inside a building they were surveying and he mistook you for one of the gang members he and Sam had been watching for the last three months. You’d given them the slip that evening, only to turn up in their Monday morning meeting. 

Hill had hired you. 

“Hill, she’s nothing but trouble. We caught her-”

“I know you did.”

Sam looked at his fiance. “And you’re still gonna hire her?”

Maria nodded with her arms folded across her chest. In honesty, it was more like a shrug before she turned to you. You’d been far too relaxed in your seat since Bucky had walked inside. Just another indicator that you were trouble. And you were smiling. Smirking? 

Maybe a bit of both. 

“I was a Fed.”

“You’re a Fed?”

You shook your head. “Was. Was a Fed.”

Maria continued for you. “She graduated first in her class in everything. Field work and academics, alike. Y/n has been on our radar for a while.”

Because you were trouble.

Bucky felt Sam nudge him. “Subtitles, Buck. You might not be saying anything but we can see it on your face. I can see it on your face.” 

Bucky just scowled more. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Credentials like hers don’t come across my desk too often these days. I wanted to see if she was the real deal so I sent her to tail you two.”

Both men did a double take of Maria and yourself. “Us?!”

You laughed a little at their surprise. “Yes, you. You know, for two of the world's best Avengers you are both terrible at being secretive. In the space of three days I’ve managed to find out your routines.”

“Three-” Sam’s words spat from his mouth. “Three days?! You’ve had her following us for three days?”

Maria shrugged, again. “Told you training was coming soon. Gotta find a way to keep you both of your toes.”

It was then Sam’s turn to scowl. He understood why, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Three days? He and Buck had been followed for three days by-by-by a, a what, a teeneger?

It was only when you replied, “I’m in my 20s.”, did Sam realise he’d said his question out loud. 

“You’re a fetus.” Bucky said before looking at you. Biologically, he might be in his 30s. But his birthday was over a hundred years ago. 

You just smiled at him. 

“Y/n’s gonna be joining your team.” 

“What?” Bucky asked, almost giving himself whiplash as he turned back to Maria. 

“Relax, Sergeant Barnes.” He looked back at you. “I’ll mostly be working alongside Captain Torres. As fun as field work can be, I’m a lot more useful to both of you behind a monitor. So, if you ever need anything hacking. Government secrets? Secret chambers? That dating profile Sam set up in your honour?” 

Nearly giving himself whiplash again, Bucky looked at Sam. And, as guiltless as he tried to look, he failed. He’d set him a dating profile up? When?!

“You just let me know,” you smiled.  “Am I free to go, Director?”

Maria nodded. “Bishop agreed to meet you outside your apartment to help you get settled in.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you.” Then you turned back to your new teammates. “See you boys on Wednesday.”

That had been almost three years ago. It had taken all of twenty minutes for Bucky to adopt your new nickname. Trouble. In the beginning, it had been because he thought that’s what you were; trouble. Bad news. But, after a while, you started to wear him down. 

It had taken a week for Sam to get used to you, and less than five minutes for Torres. He liked the way you kept “the grump” as you called him, on his toes. 

Eventually the nickname of Trouble moved away from hatred to a little more affectionate. It did take you entering field duty again without letting anyone know, saving both Bucky and Sam’s lives when they got cornered in a run down mansion out in the middle of nowhere. 

But never once had you forced a smile at the nickname. So, when you said “Morning, Buck.”, Bucky stopped in his tracks. He looked up from his clipboard, silently watching you for a moment. 

Even if your entire body wasn’t dripping with sweat as you continued to pummel the swinging punching bag in front of you, and even if your hair hadn’t been frizzing out from your rough ponytail as the back of your head; Bucky still would have known you were stressed. 

You never forced a smile around him. You’d been exasperated, tired, exhausted, angry, kind, loveable, happy, joyful, excited and every other emotion around him. But never once had you faked a smile around him. 

Around others? Sure. That was how he knew this one was fake. 

“Hold your horses.” Bucky said as he walked closer to you. 

You sighed, pulling your punches from the bag before finally standing still. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing-” You started, shaking your head. But he wasn’t biting. 

“No, not nothing. What’s going on? You’re glaring at the bag like it owes you six months rent. What’s going on?”

You sighed, completely exhausted. “Nothing, Buck. It’s fine. I swear.”

“Trouble?”

You looked at Bucky. 

For as long as you’d been alive, you’d been able to read people. Their inner thoughts, their deepest feelings. But nobody had ever been able to read you. 

Until Bucky. 

Sam tried his best, as did Torres. And, credit where credit is due, they did well. But that was only when you weren’t trying to hide it. A long day at work? A show ending the way you didn’t want it to? 

But days like this? 

You’d gone all week without letting people see. And you knew they couldn’t see. But Bucky? It was like he could see right into your soul. 

And it scared the crap outta you. 

“Bucky…” Your voice was soft, pleading for him not to dig. 

It took all of thirty seconds for him to look away from you, looking at the ceiling with a short sigh. “Alright, come on.”

Taking you by the shoulder, he stepped you away from the punching bag and hooked the clipboard under his arm before taking your wrapped hands into his. Then he started to unravel the bandages. He could already see the small bruises on your knuckles. 

“You’re gonna need to ice them.” 

He said nothing else as he unravelled your hands. Then, he took hold of one. He dropped the clipboard on the bench as he walked you both over to your gym bag before dropping your wraps into it. 

“Bucky-”

“Come with me.”

“Buck- Bucky.” You looked around you, confused as to why he was dragging you out of the gym. “James!”

He pulled you beside him before pressing a gentle hand on your lower back. 

“This feels like ‘The Quiet Man’. Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m getting you out of the compound.”

You almost started jogging beside him. “Okay, I get you’ve been trying to fire me since day one but you don’t actually have that authority.”

Well, at least you were still joking with him. Even if he had tried in the early stages, he hadn’t tried to get you fired in over two years. 

Eventually you stopped arguing, simply sighing and saying, “Fuck it.”

Whether he was gonna try and fire you, kidnap you or drag you to a church in Ireland to get married; it was better than staying in the compound, throwing punches hard enough to break the bag for a second time. 

Two hours later, Bucky’s motorbike was parked up in the dirt road behind you both as you sat beside each other, your legs hanging over the edge of the grassy hill. 

“Feeling better?” Bucky asked as you were half way through your food. 

You nodded, a lot calmer than you were back at the compound. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Then after a beat, he spoke up again. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged. “Not much to say.”

“I think the punching bag might disagree.”

Bucky watched as a smile flexed subtly on your face. But after a split second, it disappeared. Your shoulders, somehow, dropped lower and you shook your head. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

“I’m starting to regret showing you the movies you missed.” 

Bucky chuckled to himself quietly. Since you had become friends…kinda…you’d taken it upon yourself. Or rather, you and Joaquin, had taken it upon yourselves, with Sam’s help, to bring Bucky up to speed on everything he’d missed since being in the ice. 

It was on the nights when it was just you and him; maybe Sam was called away by his sister or his fiance, or Joaquin went to see his family. It was on those nights where you’d show Bucky the true classics. The ones he would have secretly loved if he’d gotten a chance to see them when they first got released. 

They were some of his favourite memories with you. 

Taking in a breath, you tried to work out in your head where the beginning was. 

“Work’s kinda taking its toll on me.” Finally admitting that outloud felt a lot easier than you’d thought it would. Bucky seemed to always have that effect on you. He made things easier. “I, uh, I’ve been asked to guest lecture at my old Training Academy and they keep trying to make me agree to a full time contract. The students apparently have learnt a lot and it makes their attendance records look better than they have done in years. Though, I’m pretty sure they only attended the lecture in the hopes that Joaquin would turn up again.”

Bucky just sat and listened to you as you looked out to the rest of the city. 

“I enjoy doing them, and I know the students like asking questions some of the teachers won’t answer directly. But between the missions, and the intel gathering. That’s taking me a lot longer than it used to, by the way and I hate it. I used to be able to crack open almost anything. But since tech development or whatever…criminals are a lot smarter than they used to be when it comes to their encryption.”

You took a few more breaths before continuing. 

“My family has been calling more and more recently, too. Don’t get me wrong. I-I love em’. But…” You let out a long breath. “It’s everyday. They’re asking for new information and I don’t have it. I’ve had a good day – that’s all I can say. I’m not dead. I spend my day going over lines and lines of data. What the fuck am I meant to say? And then I got an invite through my door last week inviting me to my cousin’s wedding and the phone calls from home have basically tripled. I’ve had to switch my answering machine off. They were filling it; have you got the invite yet? When are you gonna reply? You’re gonna be sitting next to your aunt from your dad’s side, you know I can’t stand that woman. Have you got your dress yet? Your dress is important, you need to look your best for the photos, Grandma will want ten copies, have you got a date yet? Do you need a date? Do you want me to ask your cousin if she has any single friends? Or maybe her fiance knows somebody? You can’t come to a wedding alone. Or maybe it’s best, that way we can help you find someone-”

Bucky laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, okay. Okay, breathe. Deep breaths.”

You took some more deep breaths. 

“It’s a never ending cycle, Buck. I-I go from one extreme to the other and…and I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I love my family, but right now I can’t think of anything worse than flying home and seeing them right now. And, as much as I love my work, I’d rather wait before I see another line of data.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a while. He just studied you. The way your shoulders fell, the way your true feelings and pure exhaustion took over your expression, the way your voice dropped from the hurried pace from earlier. 

“You’re burning yourself out.”

Now, you finally looked at him. 

“You need to take a break. Call Hill in the morning and tell her you’re taking two weeks. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.” 

“But we’ve got-”

“The next mission won’t happen until next month. But you need a break. Y/n. And as for your family, what if I went with you?”

“What?”

“Take me as your date.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Bucky, you don’t-”

“What?” He leaned back, his expression teasing. “Too handsome?”

“It’s not that-”

“Too old?” Bucky gave a short gasp. “I gotta tell ya, that’s ageist.”

You laughed. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Why not? You’re my friend.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

Bucky shrugged. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

You smiled, softly. 

“Come on, what could go wrong?”

You nodded, slowly. “My family will meet you and never want to let you go, that’s what.”

Bucky just shrugged again. “Can’t help it. Mom’s love me.”

“Bucky, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And I’m telling you to take the offer.”

You remained silent as you kept your eyes on him. Bucky watched as you bit your bottom lip pensively, like you were running through every worse case scenario before getting to the good ones. 

“Come on,” he whispered. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Finally, you agreed. “Okay.”

For the next two weeks, you spent most of your time relaxing, completing the jobs in your apartment you’d ignored over time and dress shopping for the wedding that would be taking place in two months time. 

By the time you got back to work, things felt less like a tsunami being thrown over you and after the mission, a wedding with your family didn’t seem too terrible. 

“Do I have to wear a bow-tie?” Bucky called out from the hotel room as you remained in the bathroom, fixing your make-up. 

You’d left him twenty minutes ago to get dressed. 

“According to the invite, it’s compulsory.” 

You heard Bucky groan a little before swearing at what you gathered was either himself, the invite or the bow-tie. 

“Why couldn’t it be a normal tie?”

“Because my cousin loves the idea of Old Hollywood.”

“Technically, when I went into the ice it was just known as Hollywood. And we wore ties.”

You chuckled, putting your lipstick brush down before quickly blotting your lips twice. Throwing the tissue into the bin by the door, you walked out of the bathroom, around and around the corner and back into your shared hotel room. 

“Parts of culture have been lost to time sadly, so bow-ties it is,” you said as you came into view. “Come here. I’ll do it.”

Bucky had caught a glimpse of you in the mirror, but seeing the real you. Not the reflected version…that was something else entirely. The colour complimented you in a way he’d never seen before, and the way it hugged and draped on your body was making his mind think things that he shouldn’t be thinking about his friend and co-worker. 

You were stunningly gorgeous. 

As you stood in front of him, so close that if he leaned forward just a touch, he could press his lips to yours,  his senses becoming filled with you and his hands itched to touch you. To hold you by your waist or your hips, just to keep you standing so close to him. 

“There.” You leaned back a little before looking at him with that smile that, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, had made him weak at the knees since the first day he’d met you. 

With your hands braced on his shoulders, you turned him around to face the mirror. “You look handsome.”

It wasn’t a genuine compliment covered up by a joke. You weren’t teasing him. 

You were being genuinely honest. 

And you tried to ignore the way he looked at you and the feelings it gave you in your chest, but meeting his eyes in the mirror only seemed to make that feeling grow. 

You hadn’t missed the way Bucky had stopped as you entered the room and how it took him a moment before his body kicked back into gear in order to stand in front of you. But you tried to ignore what you were feeling at seeing him dressed the way he was. 

Often he was in henley t-shirts and jeans when he wasn’t in his field uniform. So, seeing him all clean cut and in a tux was making you feel things. Since the henley’s were almost every day, you’d been able to, over the years, make yourself slightly immune to the feelings they gave you. 

But you’d never seen him in a tux. 

Even if you didn’t know he’d been in his 20s in the forties, seeing him dressed like this would have given you the feeling that he definitely had been in a past life. 

“We better go before we’re late.”

Bucky tried to find comprehensible words to say. The best he could come up with was, “Yeah.”

It wasn’t until the reception that he would finally be able to tell you how beautiful he found you. 

The wedding had been beautiful, every corner of the wedding venue being draped in silk. The dinner had gone off without a hitch. You and Bucky were seated together and despite the judgy comments from your aunt, Bucky held your hand throughout the entire thing, answering each question your aunt threw at him. 

And by the time people were invited onto the dance floor after the bride and groom, your aunt, happy with your choice of a date, nudged him to ask you to do as much. 

All he did was hold out his hand and looking from him, to the dance floor and back again, you took his hand. 

“I, uh, I don’t-” 

Bucky said nothing. With a light smirk on his face, he did what he’d wanted to do all night. Well, one of the things. 

Stepping into you, his hand firmly on your waist, he gently threw one of your hands to his shoulder before holding your other one firmly in his. 

“Okay.” Bucky heard you say quietly. 

His light smirk formed a small smile. “I might not know how to tie a bow-tie, but I do know how to dance.”

You nodded. “That. Is. Clear.”

You felt a little awkward, trying to keep your head away from the thoughts it was spilling into. 

Bucky chuckled and you felt his gravelly breath by the shell of your ear. “Just trust me, doll. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

You did, eventually, manage to relax a little as the song bled on. And, just as it started to feel easy and natural to be held by him in this way, his words sent both your head and your heart into a spin. 

“You’re gorgeous, by the way.” You leaned your head back a little to look at him. Was he fucking with you? “Stunning.”

You were thankful the lights were dimmer than they had been at dinner. It gave you at least a little cover for the heat that overtook your cheeks. 

“Thank you.”

Nothing else was said after that. You couldn’t keep looking at him, in fear that if you looked at him for too long, he’d be able to see right through you. 

So, with your temple resting against his, you let him lead you in a slow dance along with the rest of the couples. 

A little ways through the dance, you felt Bucky’s hand on your waist dip a little lower and onto your hip before moving to your back where you could feel his fingers softly trailing up and down your back against your dress. 

You felt yourself shiver at his touch. 

Bucky smirked a little by the shell of your ear. “Cold?”

When you spoke, your voice felt a little strangled to your ears. “No.”

You heard a small hum from his chest before he pulled you closer, or maybe you stepped closer to him, and his fingers softly continued to trail up and down. 

A few songs later, both you and Bucky sitting at a new table that your mother had dragged you to, you were asked to dance with someone your uncle had dragged over to meet you. And throughout your entire dance with the new guy, you just wished you were back in Bucky’s arms. 

However, as you danced, you failed to notice the way he was looking at you. But your cousin hadn’t. When Bucky’s eyes fell on you, he had a mixed look in them. Complete adoration and love, and that he could eat you alive. But when his eyes fell on the guy you were slightly awkwardly dancing with, a darker look took over. 

Jealousy. 

You’d told her that you’d be bringing a date, and from what your family had told her, your date was just a friend. But having watched both of you dance, and the way Bucky was looking at you…you certainly were not ‘just’ friends. 

And even if you were, it wouldn’t be for long. 

Then Bucky stood, carefully making his way over to you. And the look in your eyes when you spotted him making his way over…

Your cousin was certain the next wedding she would be attending would be yours.

“Mind me cutting in?”

The guy shook his head and stepped back, saying quiet words of kindness to you. But once you found yourself in Bucky’s arms, you felt yourself melt. 

“Thank you.”

“You looked like you had a stone in your shoes, trying to dance with him.”

“That’s kinda what it felt like. Glad to know I’ve got acting skills to fall back on if I ever want to quit. Or if you get me fired.”

“I’ll only get you fired if you start causing trouble, Trouble.”

A light smile appeared on your lips for a few seconds before you disappeared into his shoulder to hide your face from him. 

Two more dances and a conversation split between three different groups later, you were ready to go home. You said goodbye to your cousin, both you and Bucky complimenting her and the wedding before taking your leave. 

By the time you got back to the hotel, taking your heels off in the lobby, thankful to feel the cold marble floor beneath your feet, the clock was starting to reach midnight. 

Bucky took your hand in his, leading you to the elevator. And where you both could have stood opposite each other, without thinking, he pulled you into his side. Both of you stood in the centre of the elevator, Bucky leaned over and pressed the button to your floor. 

In the silence, Bucky watching the numbers climb higher and higher, you took time to look at him. The shape of him, his jawline. He’d taken his jacket off and given it to you on the walk inside to the hotel. The bow-tie was now loose and around his neck. 

“You’re staring.”

For the first time that night, you didn’t look away from him. 

“Can’t help it.”

Bucky looked back at you just before the doors to the elevator rang open. There was a soft smirk resting on his lips. 

“Come on, Trouble.”

Leading you out of the elevator, you pulled the hotel room key from your purse before sliding it into the door. With a beep, the latch unlocked itself and you pushed the handle down and Bucky helped you push the door open. 

The entire room was quiet. The moonlight floated behind the soft curtains, lighting up a few spaces on the carpet. The room remained quiet as you and Bucky walked around before he opened up the two dividing doors that led to his bedroom. 

Looking over your shoulder, you watched the muscles in his back tense as he opened the two doors and walked inside. And, despite wishing to stay and watch the show of Bucky getting undressed, you moved towards your bathroom. Zipping down the side panel zip, you let the gown fall to the floor before you pulled the clean pajamas you’d left on the counter over your head and up your legs. 

Despite the hour, you and Bucky stayed up a little longer to talk. He was back in a henley shirt and some long plaid pajama bottoms. 

The same ones you’d bought him when you’d been his Secret Santa two years ago. 

Your make-up had long been washed away and you and Bucky spent at least forty minutes gossiping about what the third cousin on your mom’s side had been wearing in replace of a hat. 

Then you had to say your goodnights. 

Only, as he closed the dividing door behind him, you felt like something was missing. You wanted him to stay. You wanted to keep talking to him. You wanted him…you wanted him to touch you the same way he had done on the dance floor, his voice gravelly by your ear, sending goosebumps across your body in a way nobody had ever done before. 

Little did you know, Bucky wanted the same. 

He could hear your footsteps on the carpet behind the door. The soft light from the lamp in your room shone under the door and he could see your shadow walking back and forth. Each time you walked back to the door, so did he. Only to then see it walk away, so he did the same. 

For the fifth time, you walked back towards Bucky’s door. Except, before you could walk back across the rest of your room, the door opened. 

And there he was. In the glow of moonlight from his own room, barely six feet from you. Neither of you said anything for a few moments, just letting the silent conversation pass between you. 

“I don’t want tonight to end.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them, or reword them. But you didn’t need to. If anyone understood you, it was Bucky. 

You didn’t know who moved first, but barely a second later, Bucky’s hands were pushing through your hair, pulling you closer as his lips crashed against yours. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him closer before fisting his t-shirt. 

A moan vibrated from his chest as you pulled him closer, letting his kiss deepen. His finger ran through the lengths of your hair, gently pulling. 

As his steps carried him forward, yours carried you back until eventually he spun you, lifting you into his arms. Feeling your back secure against the wall, his hands supporting you, your body rocked against his hips as he leaned forward, driving your own further into the wall. 

You moaned a little as his tongue slipped past your lips and his fingers squeezed at your flesh. 

By the time you both woke up in the morning, breakfast had long been over, the sheets would be a completely tangled mess. And yourself and Bucky would be in a similar position; limbs tangled with one another's, heartbeats steady enough it could be mistaken for one, and the feeling of his fingers trailing up and down your spine. 

[emmyrosee]

emmy pls pls pls PLEASE i need something with sunarin. angsty, fluffy, smutty i don’t care. i need suna so bad😓🙂‍↕️‼️ i need him in a way that insults feminism.

love u vro vro

Rintaro presses a kiss on your cheek, only to reel back as you give him a whine of annoyance, almost as if you’d burned him. “Baaaaaabuhhhh!”

“….what?”

You wipe off his kiss, and you try your best not to laugh at the offended noise and look he gives you, “I just did my skincare! Don’t kiss me with those… things.”

“These things?” He repeats, pointing at his lips. “The things we call lips? The lips that kiss you, love you, flirt with you, those lips?”

“Yes!” You scoff. “They’re dirty, don’t kiss me with them.”

His brows are pinched so deep in the middle of his forehead that you’re almost convinced he’s going to give himself a headache, and you shake your head as you make a move to reapply your moisturizer. “Uhm, I just brushed, flossed, and gargled, these lips have never been cleaner!”

“They’re man lips,” you huff, crossing your arms. Now, he’s fully upset. “They’re dirty because you’re a sport man who plays sports and you’re a man.”

“While your logic is not objectively wrong, I still don’t appreciate the slander, or, you wiping off my kisses!”

“You can kiss me on my lips before my lip balm, but you need to move fast,” you say firmly, only for him to once again jerk back in confusion.

“But!”

“Hurry,” you say, grabbing your lip balm. “You’d better pick quick.”

“But- but babe!”

“Now!”

“But!” He leans forwards to press a kiss to your lips, stealing the kiss he desperately wanted but is still pouting about afterwards, “so what, now I’ve got to schedule my kisses with you?”

You slowly turn to face him, quirking your brow, “oh, so, do you not want an appointment for tomorrow? Because I can make that happen.”

“I do!” He whines. “But I don’t want to have to pencil in my kissing times-“

“Well, the spots are filling up fast, so you’d better get on it.”

“BY WHO?!”

[lologoinsolo]

Added after this one, Part 3, Part 4

Cats and Their Men Masterlist

You stammer at the man as he holds what looks to be a calico. His face looks worse for wear despite how handsome he is. Cut lip and cheek that look as though maybe the cause is from the one wiggling in his hands. “Sir, the uh,” you look down at your phone for the time. “The stores about to close.” You look from him to the kitten and then back to him.

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m sorry. Really, I am but I’ve no idea what I’m doing.” He rubs at the baby’s head and she nips right at his finger. He groans, “why are you so mean? You were all cuddly in my lap and now you’re being hissy.”

You laugh a little at his lament and rub your own face. “Alright,” you can’t very well leave him like this. You’re sure the kitten would be more than happy to chew on something better than the man’s finger. “Come on,” you motion for him to follow. You don’t bother to page for someone to cover the front. The store’s about to close in 2 minutes anyways. “I’ll get you started, sir.”

“Kyle,” he grins when you quirk a brow, “just Kyle, none of that ‘sir’ business or else I’ll feel far older than I actually am.” He rests his kitten against his chest when she starts wiggling even more. “Curious little bugger, found her shivering at my front door.” There’s a glint in his eye as he retells his findings, “she didn’t even notice me grabbing her till I picked her up and look what she did to my face.” He says with dramatic flare when he holds her up to his eye view. The kitten merely blinks at him and her paws prod his nose.

You pull a cart since you have a feeling he’ll need a lot of things. He doesn’t give off ‘I already have a cat’ energy. “Serves you right for spooking her.” You joke about his woes when he gives you a playful glare.

“You’re only siding with her because she didn’t mark up your pretty face.”

You cough at that and push the cart more quickly down the aisle. You can handle getting yelled and cussed at but god forbid a handsome man says you’re pretty. “So,” you manage to say when he gives you a dazzling smile. He caught up quickly to your step and looks neither winded or strained. Why are all the tall men getting kittens? You inwardly roll your eyes, “you said a friend told you to find me?”

His brow raises slightly and he maneuvers his kitten to be more in his arms. “Yeah,” he simply says, “says you know a thing or two about cats.”

“Did he..” you look a bit hopeful, “did he say if he’d come back to the store.” Picking up some cat toys and placing some cute orange cat shaped bowls in the cart. “He uh, he left in a hurry last I saw.” You give a quick reasoning so as not to feel as desperate as you sound. You still feel the phantom touch of his hand. You never got his name…

“Can’t really tell,” he shrugs and he plucks some crinkle toys and tosses them in the cart. He doesn’t seem to care about pricing either. “Man’s unreadable unless you tell him a stupid joke.” There’s a short chuckle and flash of a memory that goes through his eyes.

You deflate a little, it wouldn’t make sense to feel like this. You don’t know mafia guy anyways. “Ah, well. If you see him, tell him he needs to take his cat to the vet.” Kyle nods and he perks up when he sees the cat clothing.

“When you get older, rug, I’m gonna buy you one of these.” He points to a cut pirate costume as if the kitten understands him. “You’ll hate me for it but at least I can get a picture out of it, yeah?”

You smile at his enthusiasm, from what you seem cats have never been a fan of clothing… but then again the clothing here doesn’t look— “wait,” you jerk your head to him, “rug? As in,” you gesture to the kitten that’s starting to meow when he pulls her back down from his shoulders. She must’ve climbed up there when he was looking through the clothes. “The cat?” You blink once then twice when he shrugs once more.

“Not really a naming guy, plus,” he rubs along her ears, “she was shivering on my rug. Figured I’d just say that and be done with it.”

Better than garbage, you think. “Well…” biting on your lip, “that’s unique.” Trying to save face, you don’t want to be too judgmental.

He gives you a look and then snickers, “I’m just kidding, love.” He comes close and you freeze slightly till he plops his kitten down in your hands. “About the rug name at least. I really am shit with names. Johnny’s better at naming animals.” Placing his hand on his hip and you wonder if that’s mafia guy but then you think maybe not. “If you got an idea then I’m all ears.” He turns on his side and he rubs his chin in thought. He mutters something and then walks off to the litter aisle.

You hold her in your hands. “A name, huh?” Bailey was the only name you could think of but that one’s been taken already… “hm,” you rub her nose to the top of her head. She seems to enjoy that as she curls into your fingers. “Pretty girl, what should your name be?” Humming softly in thought and leaning against the cart when Kyle comes back with a tub of litter and a nice looking litter box. You hadn’t expected to see the nice flex of muscle from his arms but you’re certainly not gonna complain about the view. “I got a secret to share, Kyle.” You say as he comes within earshot

“Oh, yeah?” He smiles and places the litter box in the cart first and then the tub. “What’s that? Promise I won’t tell a soul.” He makes an X over his chest.

“I’m shit with names too.”

His shoulders jump and he lets out a laugh. “Really?” Rolling his eyes, “guess we’re both in a pickle. Might have to stick with rug for now.” He rubs a thumb over his kitten's little head. She nips a little at his finger but he doesn’t seem to mind. He pats the top of her head like one would a dog.

“I think she hates that idea.”

“Very opinionated this one,” he takes over the pushing of the cart and you lead him down to the cat food aisle. You check her teeth and you are pleasantly happy that she won’t need formula. “Now,” he turns side to side to check the kinds of food the store sells. “What does my girl need?”

You give him a thorough answer after having learned your lesson with your mystery man. Explaining what he should and shouldn’t do and placing a weeks worth of 3 different foods. You then also speak about how he’ll need to see a vet. You checked her for fleas and you are incredibly happy to tell him that she only had one but that it’s still good for him to get some flea drops. After you give him the runaround once more around the store, checking for items you know she won’t need but she absolutely needs a carrot cat scratcher. You finally take him to your register so he can pay. Your manager looks none too happy about a remaining customer but your manager has nothing to remark when Kyle looks right at him.

“Okay,” you finally say after bagging all his items and placing them in the cart. “Here’s your receipt,” you pass it to him and you give a little pet to his kitten. “Sweet girl when she wants to be.” He chuckles around you and pockets his receipt.

“Only when she wants to, that’s for sure.” He lets out a low whistle, “cost me a high bill but only the best for her.” He tucks her a little closer and gives you a kind look. “Thanks for staying late for me,” he looks like he wants to say more but hesitates. “I’ll see you around?”

You blink and then nod quickly, “I’m always here, Kyle. Gotta make money,” you laugh shortly and his lips pull back so that you can see just a peep of his pearly whites. He takes his leave, chugging along his cart to place it in his car. He mouths something to his kitten when she tries to get out of his hands. Probably a scolding with how he tuts a finger side to side in front of her face. She’s hearing none of it though from how her tail flicks back and forth. You wave him goodbye and he waves back right at you before he steps in to drive away. You hope he’ll come back to tell you her name once he’s figured it out. You wonder if mafia guy will come back too…

[gomzdrawfr]

Merry Christmas!! they're exchanging gifts by the tree :3

[cadere-art]

Commission for @sophia-sol of our understanding and depictions of Oviraptor through time.

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ DANCING IN THE DARK with vi, who's never really done this sober (really, like... she doesn't usually dance unless she's smashingly drunk) but she trusts you enough to let you lead her into it, a bit shy at first, the music sweet and slow, the city outside a shatter of broken stars, the skyline a forest of jagged towers, their glistening glass facades betraying every kind of weakness, every kind of fragility.

"relax," you say, your voice sweetened by the honey of laughter, the threads of it shaking down vi's shoulders as you smooth your fingers over her skin, "you don't have to be so tense -- it's just me."

"yeah well --" she chuckles, taking a deep breath as she tries to let go of the stiffness lining her muscles, "easier said than done. i don't wanna look like an idiot in front of a professional dancer."

you roll your eyes, your fingers toying in the baby hairs at the back of her neck.

"you've looked like an idiot plenty of times before --"

"alright, that's it --"

"i'm joking!"

you knit your fingers through her's one by one, pull her back with that pleading look in your eyes, the one she knows she can never say no to. she teeters on a held breath, caught between this and the insecurities that had always eaten at her. she breathes out; you smile; the world slows and slows till the moment is cupped in it's gentle palms.

"... fine."

she lets herself be tugged back into the orbit of you, the undeniable gravity -- it's not the first time she's thought herself a satellite, pulled into your spin, the way light seems to gather around you, and all the flowers seem to turn their heads (vi wonders if it isn't just her projecting; it probably is), but it's not like she can fight it, not like the sea's ever asked to be tugged along by the tethers of the moon, nor the moon to dance round the earth and the sun, ever out of reach but so tantalizingly close.

and yet -- and yet.

you settle one of her palms on your hips, hum beneath your breath, place her other hand over your heartbeat.

"here -- just like that." you say, swaying from side to side, her body swaying with you.

like this, she can count the steady thrum of your heart, feel the way it gathers as she leans in close, smiling to herself because it feels good to still have that kind of effect on you; and you're never shy about it, never one to hide when she makes your breath skid short or your lashes flutter closed.

she feels your thumb trace the line of her jaw, another shiver collecting at the base of her throat. she bites her lips, closes her eyes, wraps you in her arms. warmth gathers in her chest, prickling out till she can feel it in her toes and fingertips.

"see? not so hard, right?" you ask, your voice the shadow of a whisper against her cheek.

it's only then that she realizes your cheek is pressed to her shoulder, your bodies melded, curve for curve, edge by edge, her arms locked around your waist, your hands running soothing lines up and down her back. you spin in slow circles in the gathering dark, the neon-night outside casting faint shadows along the floor, the soft edges of your shapes painted in pinks and greens and shocking blues.

"hm, only with you," vi murmurs, letting her lips skim your neck, your shoulders, burying her face against your skin.

"yeah, i'd be pretty pissed if you did this with anyone else."

vi laughs, the sound rumbling through her chest to yours, making you giggle in return. she barely pulls back, just far enough to rest her forehead to yours, her eyes the color of a light-kissed sky.

"i... didn't even think i could do this with you."

you offer her a smile like a heart on a sleeve.

"well... i'm glad you did, anyway."

"yeah... you seem to be good at that."

"at what?"

"making me believe i can do the impossible... and then actually getting me to do it."

you run a thumb along the tattoo on her cheek, the tiny letters inked into her skin. just a few lines, and the weight of the world.

"it's because... impossible doesn't exist with you," you say, letting your eyes flicker over the delicate lines of her face, her features the stuff of a screen-director's dreams -- big eyes, long lashes, a perfect mouth. skin that tints pink at the lightest provocation, freckles scattered across her nose bridge like a handful of misplaced stars.

you kiss her, because there's nothing else to do in the moment but to kiss her. and for a while, vi let's herself be kissed. it was strange, in the beginning, to let herself be loved like this. like learning to ride a hoverboard, tentative and adrenaline-filled, the knots in her stomach twisting tight, and then tighter.

like falling, and then learning that the air might hold her up, if only she knew how to let it.

like flying, once she knew the extent of what the air might let her do.

you gasp as her lips track down your jaw to your neck, your fingers now fisted in her hair.

the song ends and the silence gathers around you like smoke. when vi pulls away, her eyes are dark.

"c'mon princess, that's enough dancing for one night, hm?" her voice comes out rough, the silk and gravel of a blue's singer's hymn, the texture of it chasing sparks down the length of your spine.

"mm, or maybe..." you smile wide as you spin her around, laughing as she yelps and almost loses balance, the pair of you toppling onto the couch, you sitting astride her hips, your palms propped on her startled, heaving chest.

"there's just another kind of dancing you're more interested in right now."

vi's eyebrows shoot up, but a second later, she's pulling you down, a deep groan working up her throat as she ravishes you with a breath-stealing kiss. you break away panting, your lashes fluttering as she tugs up the hem of your dress, giving your hips a soft pat as her fingers trickle up your ribs, lifting the dress off you.

she doesn't hide her hunger as her eyes rake up the length of you, the dress dropping from her fingers as she shifts the pair of you further up the couch.

"yeah, y'know how that you mention it -- there actually is."

[elsecrytt]

satoru gojo knows he's not wanted. only needed - a weapon for killing curses and curse users, day in and day out, the lynchpin of jujutsu society.

he's fine with that, most of the time. the truth is, when suguru left, he thought that was the end for him. he was never very good at friendship in the first place, at making people like him.

he has a difficult personality, and he doesn't want to change. people willing to deal with him as he was were few and far between, and they never had that immediate connection like he did with suguru.

even if it left him unbearably lonely. it's just not in his nature to mince words, to hold back, to play nice. if he couldn't be satoru gojo, then what else did he have left?

and it's fine, most of the time.

but some of the time, it's not. it's really, really not. sometimes, it's worth it to try, just the tiniest bit, not to be a complete ass and drive away a pretty face who seems unbothered by his attitude.

that's how he ends up with you - a non-sorcerer. he hasn't told you about sorcery in general and doesn't want you to know.

to him, your shared penthouse is his safe space. he never walks or drives there, only ever teleports so that no one can trace him there. no one, not even at the school, knows that he primarily lives there.

he spends every spare hour (sometimes even just ten minute) he can there. finishing missions early, darting off after lessons, eating there whenever he can.

satoru only sleeps whenever you sleep. he never showers alone, never does his nighttime routine on his own.

that's all precious time he could be spending at your side.

washing your hair, your face, cleaning up alongside you. laughing and splashing and making a little more of a mess if he can get away with it.

here, there are no curses, no former friends turned traitor, no one who needs his help.

you smile as soon as you see him, hear him, run up to hug him if your hands are free.

he's on the lock screen of your phone. once or twice he's caught you just staring at it, delight painted all over your lips.

all you want from him is his company -

and god, is he ever aware, you're the only one alive who does.

most of his coworkers dislike him to various degrees. even his students have mixed feelings about him sometimes.

he does his best, he really does, but he can't bring himself to get attached to someone who might one day leave.

you won't, though (you can't), so he's free to love you all he wants.

he'll freely confess - he's overcompensating. pouring all the missed opportunities to bond, all the awkward moments where his attitude turned other people away, into the dam that is your relationship.

you don't mind his funky schedule (too much), you're a huge homebody who likes having date nights at home.

you smooth off all the rough edges of his personality - the arrogance, the smarmy comments - with a laugh and a taunt, a hand in his hair that he can't help but lean into like the domesticated pet he is.

god, he loves you. he loves you so, so much, unreasonably so - loves coming home to a "satoru! welcome back~", loves bringing home meals from different places and watching you try them with delight (you joke that his mysterious job must be as a delivery man, which he laughs at more than he should), loves coming home to your unnecessary attempts at cooking every now and then, something indescribable curling in his chest.

he loves sitting and talking with you about the latest show you're watching, telling you about his "coworkers" and "juniors" (sometimes he has to stop himself from giggling about it) and how annoying his latest day at work was.

sometimes it's sort of vague and vapid but it's fun when it's with you. sometimes it's deeper stuff, real stuff ("my oldest friend passed away recently" "one of my juniors at work has a complicated family situation") and you seem to always know just what to say. talking to you always makes him feel better.

he worries, sometimes, that he's not as good to you as you are to him. he tries - god, does he try - to show you the extent of his love, if he can't afford the words or time, then in deeds.

you're taken care of for the rest of your life, that was a given. the penthouse is in your name, various trusts set up in the impossible event of his death.

you have full access to a joint account that was actually just yours, set up for you by him - he just didn't feel like trying to convince you to accept the money.

he buys you things, of course. food mostly, to eat together, but also little trinkets and manga and souvenirs of the various places he goes to. little pieces of his life to share with you.

and when he can, he does do dates. every second he gets to spend with you is like gold, and he spends them all fully invested, eyes locked on you and yours, walking on air the entire time just from your presence. ready to talk about anything you had an interest in.

he's just that infatuated. satoru could talk for days to anyone, but you're the only one who'd listen, who'd chatter back just as enthusiastically. he wants you on speed dial every moment he's away.

shopping trips, too, he's always happy to play dress up, to dutifully compliment you even though privately he thinks you look best without any clothes -

and that, too, he does for you. he makes no secret of his affection for your body. spares not even a second getting to his knees, nuzzling against your thigh, cheeks flushed as he looks up at you with pleading eyes won't you feed me, pretty please, i'm starving~

he shows you he loves you. with hands and mouth and body, as a sorcerer should. silent curses falling from his lips as his body joins to yours.

it seems almost cruel of you to let him have this. why can't he live here forever? why can't he always be inside you?

satoru gojo knows he is the absolute last person who should be complaining about this, but why is life so unfair?

why can't he spend every minute of every day by your side? touching you? talking to you?

in his wildest dreams he's not killing curses or sorcerers or changing the world.

he's in bed with you, by your side from the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep. that's his dream, just you being there, always.

he worries most of all what he'd do if you ever fought.

you're not the type - you "need space to calm down" sometimes, which is usually just you going back to your room. you "want to have a calm discussion" where you sit and listen to him and talk about feelings, and you have this way of making him talk.

you're good at communicating, at making people feel better, and understanding others. sensitive in a way that he's not.

you're never out to hurt him, even when he can tell his time away is grating on you, his constant absences and flightiness rightly off-putting.

you never argue with him, never make demands, and that's how you got together in the first place, the perfect match.

(it scares him, really, being made for battle as he is. where's your fighting spirit? wouldn't you cry and scream and beg if he was going to leave you? wouldn't you go to war for your love? he knows he would.)

but deep down he knows it's there. a massive part of his life is hidden from you - things that are important to him; his mission, his students, his power.

he doesn't know what to do, really.

he wants to keep you safe, unworried. he wants to keep this island of peaceful, mundane happiness in his life.

he wants you to love him, wholly and completely, for all that he is. he wants to hear you tell him he's doing it right. that you're proud of him.

there's so much he wants now, compared to when his life was just teaching students, killing curses, and waiting for the day he'd have to kill his only friend.

satoru isn't sure which one is better. because even though he hopes he can have you how he wants, and the rest of his life too -

he's starting to think it might not be possible.

[uravitypng]

you're standing behind your podium waiting for the first man to go down the lift. you never thought you would go on a tv show like this but at the same time you never thought you would have your heart broken in such a humiliating way in front of all your coworkers so now you're dressed up in your best clothes, wearing your prettiest dress and nicest makeup wondering who's going to come down the lift.

you choose this show because your ex brought it up whenever you flicked through the channels, talking about how shallow it is and it's only based on appearance, he's not really wrong at the end of the day but that's not important to you currently and you wanted so bad to be on that programme and show off, 'look at how hot i am! you made such a mistake to dump me!'

your ex made you feel insecure about so many things- your body, your intelligence, your hobbies, your talents- but you decided that that's not going to hold you back for ever. you know you're good, you know those things he used to tell you to put you down aren't true.

every girls light is shining waiting for whoever comes into sight. if you don't like what you see you press your button to turn your light off and you know that you'll have no issues pressing that button if someone 'gives you the ick' or overall is just not your type.

the presenter gets your attention, "remember no likey, no lighty!" as the lift comes down, a lil nas song that you always forget the name to accompanies him as he makes his entrance. you're definitely not pressing your button. a man comes into view, a very attractive man comes into view, dyed blonde hair with an undercut, hooded dark brown eyes and an alluring smirk.

he introduces himself as atsumu and you swear you saw his eyes linger on you, checking you out, as he scans everyone.

"so ladies are you turned on or turned off?" two lights turn off and the presenter goes to question them about why they turned their light off, 'his hair... is a bit... well... let's just say i would complain to my hairdresser' and 'i like guys who are a little shorter, i like being the same height as each other.'

a video shows up behind him and a guy that looks exactly like him with different hair starts talking, for a video that's meant to highlight how great his twin is it's not the most complimentary but you can tell how much he cares about him only after one clip.

you learn that atsumu is a perfectionist and is a very competitive person, through this you learn he's a volleyball player and has been playing since he was a child, while his twin says this, footage of him comes onto the screen of him in practise and you don't know anything about volleyball really but he certainly looks good playing it, his body's moving in a way that makes it hard to take your eyes off him, you can see sweat dripping down his forehead and it makes him look even hotter. you find out he's a confident person but that really doesn't surprise you, he's on take me out, he came down the lift in such a confident manner and he's a pro athlete, his twin almost makes him sound like he's cocky and you gather that he's even more cocky than hinted at.

"'tsumu can be a flirt," at least six lights turn off, "and he gives a lot of compliments, especially t' girls on nights out but they're not always the most sincere, he can play with them." you see atsumu scowl and you can tell that he hadn't seen this video beforehand, it makes you giggle. "my twin is an idiot and he can be selfish but if y' give him the chance it'll be worth it."

almost half of girls have their lights off by now and it's not hard to figure out why, honestly you're surprised there isn't more after essentially being told he's a playboy but you're guessing he's so attractive they still wanted to keep their light on. his brother seems brutally honest when speaking about him but that makes you even more sure about the fact that you absolutely do not want to press that button. they obviously have a good relationship and that's such a green flag to you, not only that but his 'negative' traits don't leave you with a bad taste in your mouth or anything. everyone consists of both good and bad. you wouldn't mind that he's not the most sincere as long as he's sincere to you and honest about how he feels.

you don't know if you're atsumu's type you guess you'll found out soon but if you do get picked it's not like he's going to propose to you or anything. you're not looking for 'the one', especially on a reality romance game show but you know you'd enjoy his company.

just like last time the host goes around and asks some of the girls why they turned their lights off or have kept them on, you take little notice instead choosing to admire atsumu, maybe if the roles were reversed that would be considered something people would press their button about if they knew you wasn't listening and instead ignoring them to focus on the hot guy in front of everyone.

the host is talking to a girl a couple podiums down but atsumu looks at you- not her. he smirks as he notices your eyes are already on him after a couple seconds he flicks his eyes away to make eye contact with the presenter.

more things are said but you don't take notice. now's the part that feels pretty daunting though, you knew it would but it doesn't make that feeling go away. atsumu now has to press everyone's button, eliminating everyone apart from two. some women have their hands over their buttons silently begging jokingly not to press their button and eliminate them. atsumu presses buttons, sometimes pretending to turn off a light before walking the other way to turn off a different light and then after two more lights going back to that original light, crushing hope from the women, you understand what his brother means about atsumu playing with girls as you watch and think, 'bastard' but there's no spite behind it, if someone had read your mind they'd question about how it almost sounded endearing.

you don't realise that your light is still on, preoccupied with fantasising about his smirk that wouldn't leave his face as he made you moan. you're in the final two. he never even pretended to go to turn your light off.

the other girl makes a flirty chat up line and you know it's your turn next, you had it prepared on the off chance. you really didn't think you'd ever make it down to the final two. forty girls narrowed down to you, you didn't think it was likely but you still had some lines memorised. you said something and he laughed. he actually laughs. you don't know if it's because what you said amused him or if it's because he can tell you're not use to this kind of thing but either way- he laughed.

"now atsumu it's time to choose one of these girls. before you pick you should know that one of these girls once tried to use hair straighteners on a crinkled up essay as a teenager to try and make it flat again." he laughed. again.

"well i don't know who did that but it's a great idea," he grins and butterflies flutter in your stomach, 'it really was... in theory...' his eyes move to you again and you still can't tell if it's a bias perspective you hold but you swear that he's looking at you longer, looking at you more, looking at your soft body, looking at you with a kinder look in his eye. "both of these girls are gorgeous but one outshines everyone in th' room," he says your name and your eyes become comically wide.

'a man this hot thinks i'm gorgeous? so does that mean i was right that this whole time he was checking me out? i get to go on an all expenses paid date with atsumu?!'

reality shows au masterlist <3

[skipppppy]

Going through my old unfinished art and I completely forgot that before I made English Willy I had another kind of fan story/pitch/whatever that was about the people working the closing shift at the fnaf 1 location in the late 90s. And each person had managed to bond with one of the missing kids in one way or another so instead of fighting for their lives they were running a really fucked up robot daycare. I feel like I should do more of this the designs go hard

[msmk11]

Best Friend's Mom Part Two

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Word count: 5.6k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mentions of food, mentions of absent parent, hints of angst, light smut in the middle, full smut at the end

Summary: You and Wanda had just slept together. You had just slept with your best friends' mom. But what happens after? Will the best night of your life be a one-time thing?

A/n: GUYS. Thank you SO MUCH for all the love on part 1. I was so anxious to post it because I had never written for Wanda before, and I thought it was lowkey crap. But you guys have been so kind, and loving, and supportive, and it made my week. I was feeling a little bit of pressure to write this next part because part one did so well, but I'm happy with the finished product. I've also decided to have a part 3 and 4 to finish up this story because I want it to span the whole week of reader's spring break. I hope that you all enjoy it and if you want to be added to the tag list for this series just lmk.

Seriously all my love, MK <3

There is something hot blowing on your neck when you first wake up, and your sleepy brain is a little more than confused. Through your bleary eyes you look for the source, and that’s when everything from the night before comes rushing back.

Wanda.

You and Wanda.

Sleeping together.

Not only are you currently sharing a bed with your two best friends’ mom, you slept with her.

What makes it worse? It was fucking amazing. And you want do it again.

You know you’re going to hell. You’d just crossed so many boundaries, and you aren’t sure Billy and Tommy will ever forgive you if they find out.

When they find out.

“Detka,”

Your racing thoughts, and also heart, comes to a halt at the soft whisper of Wanda’s own personal nickname for you- one that sounded so different less than 12 hours ago as you made her hoarse with pleasure.

Cautiously, you roll on your side to meet Wanda face-to-face. Even in the morning she looks so incredibly beautiful, with her red waves sprawled out on her pillow, her green eyes soft and warm, and her pink lips just a little swollen from the night before.

“What’s that pretty little mind of yours thinking about so early,” she asks quietly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You lean into her touch and close your eyes, “You. Us. Last night.”

Her hand pulls away and you open your eyes, “Do you regret it, Detka?”

“No Wanda, of course not. I don’t. It’s just, this-“

“Makes things complicated?”

You sigh and nod. You chew on your lip anxiously as all the racing thoughts come back.

“Honey, stop,” Wanda says, placing her thumb on your bottom lip, “you’ll hurt yourself.”

She pulls you into her arms and places the softest, sweetest kiss against your lips. You melt into her embrace and decide to ignore all your problems for just a little longer. Anyways, how could anything really be wrong when Wanda holds you as if nothing could hurt you?

“We’ll figure it all out in time, baby. But for now, just lay with me for a while, yeah?”

You press a gentle kiss to her neck, an action that speaks far louder than any words, and snuggle closer into her. With her fingers running gently through your hair, and the rhythmic sound of her heartbeat against your ear, you are lulled back into a dreamless sleep.

When you wake up a little while later, the spot next to you is cold, and you know that at some point Wanda slipped out while you were sleeping to avoid suspicion. You know she did the right thing, and that it’s for the best, but the secrecy of it all is just a little painful.

You shrug it off, however, and crawl out of bed. Until you can assess the state of your skin- Wanda’s mouth had been all over- you throw on sweats and a hoodie. As you traipse down the hall you’re met with the smell of pancakes and quiet chatter. Before you step into the kitchen, you admire the pretty picture before you- Wanda sat between her two boys at the table as they all eat pancakes and reminisce about the past. You almost feel bad ruining it.

Almost.

But your hunger wins out.

“She finally decides to join us,” Tommy teases as you step into the kitchen.

You stick your tongue out at him as you sit down to his right and begin to pile pancakes onto your plate.

“I was starting to worry that you were dead,” Billy adds, and you roll your eyes.

“I must’ve just been worn out,” you reply, briefly glancing at Wanda before looking down and shoveling food into your mouth.

“Did you not sleep okay, honey?”

You look up at Wanda again and notice a glint of mischief in her green eyes, “Just always a little restless sleeping in a new bed, but I fell asleep eventually.”

“You just let me know if I can do anything to help,” she says sweetly. And then, she winks.

You choke on your pancake a little and Tommy starts patting your back. When you finally get a little air back in your lungs you cough out, “okay, thanks, Wanda.”

She’s gonna be the death of you.

*****

The boys decide that the four of you will head into the beach town today to look around the shops and restaurants. You’re more than grateful for this, especially with the alternative being that you’d have to see Wanda in a bikini yet again.

You’re dressed simple in cutoff blue jeans and a plain white tank top, and you’ve tucked your hair under a white baseball cap. Wanda, it seems, is still trying to tease you, wearing the cutest flowy, white skirt with a maroon tank top. It’s maddening and you almost scoff at her audacity. If her boys weren’t with you, you’d probably drag her off to a bathroom right now and take her right then and there. Alas, they are, and so you have to practice self-control. It’s still easier than maintaining self-control around her in a swimsuit, so you feel grateful to walk around with your friends and fawn over little trinkets you absolutely do not need. You plan to do your very best to forget that Wanda’s even there, but she has other plans.

Wanda’s hands are all. over. you. all. day.

Mind you, all of her touches are subtle enough that Billy and Tommy would never suspect a thing. But they’re not subtle to you. You feel every touch tenfold, and it leaves you a little dazed after each interaction.

When you get to the first shop, a mini boutique, Billy, ever the gentleman, holds the door open for you and Wanda. The redhead doesn’t just motion for you to go inside first. No. Instead, she places her hand on the small of your back and guides you into the store, letting her hand linger a little near your ass until Billy and Tommy step inside.

At the book store, you find a copy of the romance novel you’ve been dying to read but couldn’t find anywhere. Unfortunately, it’s up on a high shelf that you can’t quite reach. Just as you turn to look for one of the twins, Wanda saddles up behind you touching your shoulder, “I got it, honey.”

She uses you as a balance as she stands on her tip toes and grabs you the book. It’s in your trembling hands the next moment and then she’s disappeared to another aisle.

The local thrift store in town is packed full of clutter. Realistically, only one person can walk down a row at a time because of how narrow they are. Wanda, of course, ignores this unsaid rule entirely, at least when it comes to you. As you sift through the racks upon racks of clothes, Wanda wonders over and begins to make small talk about your thrift finds. Then, without warning she says, “excuse me, honey,” and grabs your waist, shifting you so that she can pass by. Her tits rub up against your back when she does it, and you shiver.

The four of you have lunch at a cute cafe, and sit at a circle table on the outdoor patio. Unsurprisingly, you end up sitting next to Wanda, and her hand magically finds its way to your thigh. You desperately try to keep your cool throughout lunch and hope that your face isn’t too flushed. Near the end of the meal, her hand begins moving up and down your thigh, creeping a little closer to where you want her. You cough and stand abruptly, getting startled looks from your friends.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.”

You rush inside and splash water on your face.

Throughout the day, even when Wanda isn’t touching you, she somehow always manages to drive you crazy. At the tourist shop, Wanda decides to try on a sweatshirt. When she’s taking it off, her shirt rides up a little and you see a little patch of her soft, beautiful skin. When you grab a treat from the ice cream shop, you nearly lose your mind as she licks whipped cream off her fingertip to “sample it.”

Wanda’s teasing is nonstop and relentless all afternoon. By the time you get back for dinner you’re a complete and utter mess. But you’re not guaranteed any relief because Billy and Tommy drag you away to swim. Even though you shoot Wanda a desperate glance, she only winks and gets back to cooking.

*****

The evening had been spent by the pool, getting out occasionally to eat a little, and then jumping back in. You competed in races with Tommy, dove for pool sticks, and convinced Wanda to join you three for Marco Polo. As night settles in, the air cools down and the pool becomes much too chilly to bear. Not wanting to go inside just yet, you move to the hot tub. As you sink into the bubbling, hot water you sigh loudly. Your tense muscles ease and you begin to regain some feeling in your chilled fingers and toes.

You rest your head against the edge of the tub as you call out goodnight to Billy and Tommy. Wanda goes in with them, taking the dishes to the kitchen, and you have to admit that you’re a little disappointed she doesn’t stay outside.

The door shuts with a resounding thud, and you are left alone with your thoughts. It’s quiet, and the only thing you can hear are the crickets chirping and the bubbling water in which you sit. You’re blanketed in darkness, even the moon asleep for the night, save for the stars that sprinkle the navy sky.

The peaceful evening soothes you, and you close your eyes. You hear the wooden door open and close again, and soft, padded footsteps across the deck. You’re too scared to open your eyes and see who it is- for fear of disappointment. This time, you’re not disappointed.

Eyes still closed, you feel soft lips capture yours and you gasp softly. When Wanda pulls away your eyes flutter open and you find hers staring back at you fondly. She hasn’t yet joined you in the hot tub, but is rather standing at its edge, leaning over to kiss you from upside down.

You smile softly at her, “Hey, Wanda.”

“Hi Detka. I missed you,” she whispers against your lips.

“You were with me all day.”

“Not in the way that I wanted to be.”

“Well you sure got your fair share of teasing in,” you fake scold, “did that satisfy you enough?”

She slowly shakes her and rasps, “no.”

“We’ll have to fix that then.”

Wanda walks around the hot tub to the stairs and wades into the water. She slowly, tantalizingly, makes her way towards you. You sigh out her name impatiently and then finally, finally, your lips connect. You grab her waist gently and pull her closer to you.

Wanda’s hands find a home in your hair as she tugs on it a little and you moan.

“God, I’ve been dying to touch you all day,” she murmurs.

“I could tell,” you pant, “such a fucking tease, grabbing my hips, touching my shoulders, rubbing my thigh. It’s too bad Billy and Tommy were there, or I would’ve had my way with you.”

“Not very nice to say about your best friends.”

“Hard to care about them when you’re in front of me,” you admit, “all beautiful, and interesting, and alluring.”

You press a final kiss to her lips and then pull away, kissing her cheek, then her jaw, then behind her ear, her neck, her collarbone, and then right between her tits.

You keep your mouth there, hoping to leave a mark behind that will be just out of sight when she wears a tank top or a revealing dress. She grabs your head and pushes it forward, burying it deeper in her chest. Her soft moans and sighs make you grip her waist harder, and you pull her onto your lap where you’re sitting in the hot tub. When you nip slightly at her skin she whimpers and you moan against her.

“You sound so pretty Wanda,” you tell her, voice muffled.

You place kisses back up her chest as your hands move downwards to squeeze her ass. She squeals a little and you press another kiss to her lips to silence her.

“Wanna see you, baby,” Wanda tells you.

Her hands creep around your back and slowly untie your swimsuit. Your top falls away revealing your tits to her. It’s too dark for her to see much, but she still whispers, “so beautiful, Detka.”

She leans forward and presses a kiss to each before reaching out and groping them. You throw your head back and sigh. It’s a relief, finally having her hands on you again after all the teasing. She slowly massages each of your tits and you pant, gripping her waist so tightly you’re surprised she hasn’t yelped in pain. When her thumb runs over your sensitive nipples, your hips buck up into hers.

“Wanda, I-“

“I know, baby.”

Just as she is leaning down to take you into her mouth the door to the house squeals open. You jump apart, a string of curses leaving your mouth as you cover yourself and sink lower into the water.

Tommy peaks his head out, “Guys, come watch a movie with us. We’ve got it queued up.”

You quietly groan.

Thankfully, Wanda responds for you both.

“Okay, moya lubov. We’ll dry off and be in.”

Tommy closes the door, and you groan much louder now, letting your head fall back against the hot tub in defeat.

Wanda chuckles lowly, “we’ll finish this another time, baby. Promise.”

You sigh and nod.

“Here, let me help you put this back on,” Wanda says kindly, picking up your discarded top.

You turn away from Wanda, and she wraps it back around you. She breathes on your neck as she ties it back in place, and her fingers just ghost over your back. You hold your breath, savoring every moment.

When she’s done, she places a kiss to your neck and pats your ass, “there, all done. Now let’s go watch this movie.”

*******

The rest of your evening had been 2 hours and 12 minutes of torture, and then bedtime. You’d sat in an armchair cuddled up to Tommy while Billy and Wanda had laid on the couch together. You don’t recall a single second of the movie because you had been too busy watching Wanda the whole time.

You adored the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, how her frown during sad scenes was a little crooked, and the way her brows furrowed together when a character was being particularly ridiculous. No matter what face she was making, she was beautiful. And you couldn’t understand how anyone could have been interested in watching a movie when the picture of grace herself had sat before you.

It was mind-numbing, the way Wanda seemed to consume every waking and sleeping second of your mind. There was nothing you could do to ease her from your thoughts, and she was so clearly not keen on helping you out either. You desperately wondered if you’d ever get another moment alone before you headed back to college in four days. If you didn’t, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

Was death by longing even a thing?

Your bed had been cold that night, and you weren’t sure how you’d ever slept without Wanda by your side. Her warmth eased your tense body, her arms kept you safe, her tender kisses reminded you you were alive, and her sweet words whispered into your ears filled your heart to the brim. You knew you were totally fucked, but in a state of denial, you hoped that just one more good fuck would get it out of your system.

The next morning is calm and peaceful, the late night before having kept everyone confined to their beds until a much later hour. You opt out of breakfast and instead lay sprawl out on your bed, fan blowing cool air on you and the windows cracked to hear the waves. You decide to finally start the new book you got in town, and you cozy up in your comforter excitedly.

You open the paperback and crack the spine a little with a resounding pop. This and the smell of fresh pages sends a shiver up your spine and you kick your feet happily. Your eyes eagerly scan the first few pages as you take in the plot, setting and characters. You can feel yourself slowly sinking into the magical fictional world before you and you feel triumphant. Finally, finally, you’ve found something that distracts you from Wanda.

And it does. For a little while. But about twenty pages in a flash of red hair crosses your mind. You shake it off and read another page. Green eyes pierce your vision. You blink it away rapidly. Her perfume seems to waft into your nose, and you stuff your face into your shirt. You try to persevere, but when you realize that you’ve read the same line about ten times now and have yet to process it, you know it’s hopeless. You’re never one to treat a book unkindly, but you’re so frustrated that you toss it across the room and bury yourself under your covers.

Since your brain seems so keen on it, you let yourself indulge in a fictional scene of your own- one of domestic bliss between you and Wanda.

It’d be a hot summer day, just like this one, and you and Wanda would be at your shared cottage home in the countryside. The fan would be humming softly above you while birds and bugs chirped and buzzed through the screened back door. You and Wanda would be on your long, white couch with colorful throws, bare legs tangled. It’d be too hot be fully dressed, so you’d each just be in a pair of underwear and the other’s shirt. Maybe Wanda had made you two some ice-cold lemonade that you sipped on slowly as you casually drew patterns on her leg. Wanda, on the other end, would have a book propped open. She’d be reading it to you, in that soft, sweet voice that makes you melt. When you’d get lost in her eyes instead of listening to her read, she’d playfully scold you.

You could almost hear her now saying, “Detka, Detka. Are you paying attention?”

It’s when an arm touches your shoulder that you realize the real Wanda is actually before you, talking to you.

You jolt and inhale quickly, “huh? What? Sorry I was daydreaming.”

She chuckles and you notice that she’s sitting on the edge of your bed as she smoothes out the wrinkled corners, “I just came to tell you that we’re going out for a nice dinner tonight and that our reservation is at 6:00. Do you have something to wear?”

You do, luckily, and you thank past you for thinking ahead, “yes, I have a few options to choose from. What time should I be ready by?”

Wanda thinks for a moment, “5:00 probably. I want to get some pictures of everyone dressed up too before we head out. And you know how my boys are about photos, always so particular.”

You snort out an understanding giggle, recalling the many times you've taken ‘unsatisfactory’ photos for your friends, and then having to redo them all.

Wanda stands then and smiles sweetly at you, “well, that’s all I had to say, but I’ll leave you to your daydreaming now.”

And when she’s sure no one is coming down the hall, she presses a few hurried kisses to your lips and then leaves the room and you, yearning for more.

*****

You decide to doll yourself up extra nice for the occasion and try to convince yourself it’s all for you and not… others.

You’re wearing flowy blue pants made of a silky material and a white tank top with a scoop neck and wide straps. A dainty gold necklace sits prettily against your collarbone and one or two gold bands rest on your fingers. Strappy white sandals are your shoe of choice, and you make sure to paint your toes a blue color similar to your pants. You keep your makeup simple, only a few swipes of mascara and a quick brush of your brows.

You head out into the living room and whistle lowly, “what a group we are.”

Tommy and Billy have dressed up rather nicely. The former is wearing a nice, short sleeve white shirt and khaki pants. Billy has on a nice red polo and black slacks.

Instead of rustling the boys’ hair like you usually would, you pat their cheeks like a fond grandmother, “look at you two, my boys. All handsome and grown up.”

You wipe away a fake tear and they roll their eyes at you, exasperated.

“I’m just glad you were able to dress up nice,” Tommy retorts, “instead of your usual sewer rat look.”

You scoff, more than offended, and this time do go to ruffle his hair, “did your mother never teach you manners?”

“She taught us to respect those who earned it. You haven’t yet,” Billy deadpans.

You smack his arm rather hard, and you don’t miss the way he winces and rubs the sore spot a little.

“Would it really kill you to tell me I look nice?” you ask, hands on your hips.

Billy dramatically groans, “fine, fine. You look… nice.”

You look at Tommy with a raised eyebrow.

“You know you look beautiful,” he replies, “do I need to say it?”

You sit on the arm of the couch next to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, “just feels nice to be appreciated sometimes.”

Tommy scoffs playfully, “as if we don’t spoil you rotten with attention.”

You wave him off dismissively and reach out to grab Billy’s hand, giving him a kind squeeze.

It’s in this warm embrace that Wanda finds you all when she emerges from her room. She looks absolutely breathtaking. Of course, she always does, but this. Wow.

Wanda has pulled her hair back into a slick bun and is wearing a slim-fitting, long green dress. It’s an emerald green that looks so nice against her pale skin, and the red lipstick on her lips makes them look even more kissable than usual. She has dangly silver earrings in, a chunky silver necklace, and a small chain bracelet for jewelry. You’re literally speechless, your mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Well, how do I look?” She asks with a little spin.

Tommy stands and gives her a side hug, “beautiful as always, Mama.”

“The prettiest lady ever,” Billy agrees, joining his family on his mom’s other side. She presses tender kisses to the sides of each of their heads, a big beaming smile on her face.

“Honey, could you get a picture of us?” She asks you sweetly.

You simply nod, too dumb to talk, and take Tommy’s phone. They stand together, arms around each other, and they look like a perfect little family. Wanda is clearly so proud of her sons, and them so devoted and loving to their mother. It makes your heart ache, not only because of fondness but also regret.

Billy and Tommy have opened up to you about how hard it was for Wanda to put their lives and family back together after their dad left. And now, seeing them together, so happy and complete, you feel like an intruder. Out of place. And when you think about Wanda, you want her so badly. But you wonder if you want her enough to risk tearing down everything she’s worked so hard to build.

“There, that should be good,” you say quietly.

Wanda steps forward, “here let me get some pictures of you three.”

When she takes the phone from you, your fingers brush, and you jolt away a little. You try to play it off coolly and go stand in Wanda’s place between the two boys. You smile widely, your arms wrapped around each brother, but the ache is still a little present in your throat.

“Okay, I’ve got some,” the redhead tells you, “but I want a few with you too, honey,” she says, looking at you.

“But why, mom?” Billy asks.

“Well I have to document the best Chicken duo this world has ever seen,” she says with a teasing voice.

The boys groan simultaneously and roll their eyes.

“No need to rub it in, mom.”

She smirks a little as she goes to stand next to you.

“They’re just jealous,” she says, with a stage whisper.

And then, when they’re not paying attention, she actually whispers, “and stop worrying, Detka. Everything is going to be okay.”

“How did you-?”

She briefly glances at your lips and you realize that you’re chewing on them yet again. You stop immediately and she squeezes your side reassuringly. You face the camera and wrap your arm loosely around Wanda’s shoulders. This time, your smile is much more genuine.

*****

Dinner had been amazing. Red sauce pasta with a delightful layer of cheese, and rolls that seemed to be coming out as soon as a basket was emptied. You all had indulged in a little red wine too, and you felt perfectly relaxed and full. The night had been near perfect. But something was missing. Dessert.

You don’t have to go looking far, because it presents itself in the form of Wanda Maximoff, sitting there at dinner looking so delectable in her emerald green dress, teasing you with her sneaky looks and seductive red lips. It feels like ages since you’d last really touched Wanda, and you don’t think you can hold off much longer. You hope your eyes tell her so as the four of you sit around the living room coffee table playing various card games. Eventually, you feign a yawn, and proclaim that you are calling it a night- wine always making you a little sleepy.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. You are wide awake and alert. You waltz off down the hall, but you don’t go into your room. Instead, you take a turn into Wanda’s and quickly shut the door behind you. You wait for her on the soft, bouncy mattress.

It seems as if you’re waiting for Wanda for ages. But you suppose impatience on your end and her need to prevent suspicion only makes it seem so. Finally, you hear the faint creak of the floorboards coming closer and closer to the door. It cracks open and there she is in all her glory. She shuts it softly behind her and you both share a giddy smile like scheming little kids. She uses the door handle as a balance as she slips her heels off and tosses them to the side. Then, she reaches to her hair and pulls out all the clips and hair ties holding the bun together, and her long red waves cascade down her shoulders mesmerizingly. She slowly slinks towards you, drawing you in with her seductress powers. She slots herself between your legs at the edge of the bed and bends down to kiss you deeply.

You inhale sharply against her lips and hold her jaw with your hand. After a few deep kisses she breaks away and whispers, “take that shirt off for me pretty girl. I want to see you.”

To her surprise, and maybe even a little to yours, you say, “no.”

She raises her eyebrows in shock and then they furrow into worry, “do you not want this? I’m sorry if I misread the room I-“

You place a finger to her lips gently, “No, Wanda. You didn’t read anything wrong. I do want this. I want you. But I don’t want you to do anything. I just wanna take care of you. Is that okay? A woman like you should be worshiped.”

Her features soften into what you’d almost coin adoration, but you don’t get your hopes up.

She moves around the side of the bed and lays down up against her pillows, “okay baby, you take charge. Do whatever you want.”

You groan at how soft, and vulnerable, and open she is to you.

God, there are so many things you want to do to Wanda right about now. But what you need most is to taste her. You crawl up to Wanda and place yourself between her legs. You place your hands gently on the back of her neck and lean in for a tender kiss. It’s slow and deep and Wanda just sighs softly. Her hands find a home on your back as you continue to kiss her, slowly adding in tongue. As your hands begin to travel from her neck and down to her sides, just barely grazing her breasts, the kisses get a little more passionate and your breathing heavier. Like last night, you begin to trail kisses down her body. But this time, you don’t stop at her chest. You keep going, pressing kisses to her clothed stomach. When you get to her legs, you teasingly slide your hands up under her dress, fingers dancing around her ankles.

“I need you higher,” she rasps, and you smirk smugly just a little.

“Anything for you, gorgeous.”

You slowly push the hem of her soft, green dress upwards, revealing more and more skin as you go. You push it all the way up, letting the dress pool around her waist. You start at her ankles again, this time pressing soft kisses up her legs until your hot breath is on her thighs. She nearly whines at you being so close to touching her, and you giggle, “be patient, sweetheart. I’m almost there.”

And then with one or two more gentle kisses to her inner thighs, you place the softest, teasing kiss on her clothed center. That alone causes Wanda to moan, her hips bucking up into your face a little.

“Detka, please,” she sighs.

You grab the top of her underwear and pull it down her legs, tossing it across the room somewhere.

“Such a beautiful pussy, Wanda,” you sigh.

You lean forward and press another kiss to her, this time, bare cunt. You know she likes it because her legs squeeze your head encouragingly. You lick one strip up the middle and she moans so prettily you squeeze your own legs together. After you’ve gotten one taste, you’re ravenous. You immediately dive in headfirst, licking and sucking at her soft, pink pussy.

She continuously lets out sighs and moans of your name, honey, or Detka. You hold onto her thighs as you continue to eat her out and squeeze them gently, letting her know how good she’s doing. You can tell when Wanda starts to get close because she only gets wetter and wetter. She reaches down and grabs your hair roughly, shoving your face further into her pussy. She lets out a whine and her back arches, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“F-feels so g-good,” she stutters out.

You hum against her and you know it feels good because she lets out yet another moan. To get Wanda to her orgasm, you decide to double the stimulation. Your face moves downwards, sending your tongue in and out of her wet hole. Then, you add a finger to the mix, rubbing small tight circles on her clit quickly. Her back arches again at the newfound pleasure, and the grip she has on your hair is almost painful. But you don’t stop. You continue to thrust in and out while pinching and rubbing her clit. Her moans are so consistent and fairly loud that you’re a little worried her boys will hear. But you’re so lost in her pussy, and she in her pleasure, that you don’t care. With one final hard thrust of your tongue, Wanda plummets over the edge. Her thighs squeeze tightly around your head and your hair is wrapped around her fingers in a coil. Her back arches off the bed significantly and her body shakes in waves of pleasure. The pretty little whines and moans she lets out as she comes makes you want to instantly go for round two. But you don’t, letting her come back down from her high. When she does, she looks a little dazed.

“Well?” You ask slyly.

“Detka,” she sighs, and then she pulls you upward by the shirt and passionately kisses you. When she tastes herself on your lips, she moans again.

You and Wanda are all over each other for quite awhile, and you’re both left feeling pretty fucked out and spacey. Everything with her felt and feels so good. And you know you’re ruined for anyone else. You lay on her bare chest, legs intertwined, and she strokes your back softly. Your eyes flutter shut at her featherlight touches and you’re sure you could fall asleep right then and there. Paired with her slow, quiet breathing, you are in bliss.

“You’re so perfect and beautiful, Detka,” she whispers into your ear.

It tickles and you shiver a little. You place an affirming kiss on her bare chest and snuggle in closer to her side. And as she holds you, as you begin to fall asleep in her arms yet again, you know for sure now that you are fucked. You know then that you are not just attracted to Wanda. You have feelings for her. And the once pleasurable, fluttering butterflies in your stomach are replaced by a big, solid rock.

______________________________________________________________

tag list: @xenaizogie @alexawynters @eclipse727 @idkwhatever580 @opp-jumpscare @starynn @alessiaswifey @noturlondonboy

[mydeadgaywizards]

muggle au james potter would own a skateboard change my mind

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 7

Check out part 1 here. AO3

CW: Momma drama. If you have a bad mom relationship like I do please read with caution. Also John comes home a bit broken. He gets better but not in this part.

John appears behind you as you are stepping into your shop. When his hand pushes the door open wider from behind you startle.

“Jesus fuck me!” You jump and spin, eyes wide and chest heaving as you confirm who stood behind you.

The slightly worried look on John’s face tells you he didn’t mean to startle you.

“Sorry dove thought you heard me.”

“Apparently my thoughts were too loud,” sheepishly you push the door shut behind him and begin to flick on lights.

Waiting for you at the counter with John is your jewelry box. It looks better than before if that is possible.

“I didn’t stain it,” John runs a finger down the side and you wish that digit dragged down your side instead.

Fuck, bitch you can’t be this horny yet, he just arrived. Apparently, the earth-shattering orgasm from your vibrator last night with the taste of him on your lips wasn’t enough. When did you get so greedy?

“Why not?” You ask as you fold your arms, not one hundred percent sure your bra would be able to trap your steel-tipped nipples.

Glancing from the box to John you see a soft smile. When he looks up at you it grows.

“I noticed how much you seemed to like the grain of the wood and seemed sad at the idea of it being covered up. A few coats of clear lacquer to protect it and it was done.”

“I love it. I’m so glad you chose lacquer. I would have been happy with any choice you made but this? It’s wonderful.” Leaving the box at the counter you waved John to follow you.

“I made you something as well.” Putting a hand on the nob of the door to the back room you spun. “I know it’s not really a problem, but you have complained about going into what you call “power meetings” with only your slacks or your fancy uniforms so I made you something that should hold up against scrutiny.”

John’s arms are folded, head tilted ever so slightly to watch you with the smile tucked under his mustache.

Taking a deep breath you twist the handle and step back into the room. You hung the suit on the wall directly in front of the door so you could watch his face as he saw it. You had paid a pretty penny for the fabric, thread, and buttons. They all came together so seamlessly that even your friend who was a tailor wouldn’t have been able to know a suitmaker hadn’t put it together unless he started to pull it apart at the seams. You had also purchased the silk for his shirt and made that by hand as well.

The smile falls from his face as he steps up to the suit and runs a hand lightly over it.

“Holy fuck.”

Glancing from side to side you bite your lip.

“So what do you think?”

When he turns you know why people like blue eyes so much. John’s blue eyes are enchanting with the tears rimming his lashes. They remind you of the ocean in the photos you’ve seen of tropical places.

“I can’t think of a gift that has ever meant more to me,” he chokes out around the tears in his throat.

“Do you want to try it on?” You suggest, heart fluttering in your chest.

“I want-”

His desires were cut off by the sound of the bell.

Turning you call out.

“Sorry, we are closed today,” when you catch sight of your mom.

The warmth that had settled over you like sunlight as spring breaks chilled to the harshest of winter breezes. Shutting the door to the back room, and your joy from your sorrow you face your mother.

“You didn’t come to Christmas,” she starts.

“I told Pop I would be going to Nana’s this year.”

“You’re still mad at me,” she pouts with her eyebrows.

Your mother had skills in expressing herself without making a scene about it.

“I am not mad, I’m done.”

Your mother stepped up to the counter, slowly opening each drawer of your gift. Snatching it off the counter you placed it on your working desk next to your sewing machine.

“What does being done have to do with not coming to Christmas?”

She’s pulling that mom tone again, trying to force you into a child role whether she knows it or not.

“I do not enjoy the way I feel while spending time with you. I do not like the comments you make or the fact that even when my brother is being rude I am still in the wrong. And I am done putting myself in situations to be hurt because you happened to get knocked up and produce me.”

She had told you once that you were a birth control failure baby. She had been drinking, you had been ten.

“I did not happen to get knocked up,” she sputtered.

Taking a deep breath you point your eyes at the ceiling and pray for patience.

“That is not the point of this conversation and I apologize for bringing it up. What I am saying is that I won’t be spending more time with you until we can go to family therapy. I’ve told this to Pop several times. I will send you a few options between us and will set up the appointment as well.”

“But I am your mother!” She is getting shrill, a sure sign she is losing control of the conversation in her mind.

“And I am grown. Now I have a private appointment I need to get back to.”

“Is this because of the comment about no one paying to see you naked? I’m sorry that you were offended by what I said.”

Your jaw works as your fingers curl into talons and your shoulders stiffen.

“I am not having that discussion here and now. Pick a therapist from the list I send you or leave me alone.”

Mom looks shocked, scared even, at the tone you use. She turns leaving in a huff and you open the door to the back to see John, shirt unbuttoned and eyes blown wide as if someone dosed him with drugs.

“That’s an option? I can pay to see you naked? Is a hundred enough?”

“A hundred?” You ask, confused but slightly hurt that he thought you were so cheap.

“No? Okay, a hundred and fifty thousand?” He looks desperate and hopeful and lost and like he might combust all at once.

You choke on your spit. Did that man just offer a hundred and fifty thousand dollar bucks to see you naked!?

All it would have taken is a glass of wine, a smokey look, and an invitation to bed and your clothes would have disappeared from your body like they never existed. Like damn you had high self-confidence, forged out of hate comments online and in real life, but you weren’t worth that much. Maybe John did like you like you liked him?

He stepped forward, mouth opening to form words when his phone went off. The instant change told you it was work.

“Dammit all to hell and may it never return,” he snatched up his pants from the cot and answered the phone as he moved it to his ear, snarling. “What?”

You watched as the soldier overtook the man. His back straightened as he tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear beginning to work at the buttons at his wrists. Stepping into his space you took over the task freeing him faster than he would have managed. Helping him out of the shirt you fold it over one arm, watching as he disappears below his shirt to reappear through the head hole. You don’t offer to help him remove the pants but take them when offered without comment.

John doesn’t spare you a glance as he pulls his cargo pants up, sheathing the deliciously thick thighs he hides. When he sits to tie his boots you toss the clothes from your arms to the cot and kneel to take over that task for him. Tying them tight you stand and offer him a hand. He takes it, holding on as he stands.

Still on the phone he pulls your knuckles to his lips and turns the phone away from his mouth.

“When I get back, we are talking about this.”

It’s all you can do to nod before he dons his coat and slips into the precipitation of January.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

The last of the snowdrops are blooming when John makes it back home. Between the knocks at the front door and the vibrating of your phone from under your pillow, you wake enough to stumble to the front door. The door opens fully before your eyes do.

John looks haggard, as if he aged ten years in the three months he was gone. A full beard had grown in, the ends ragged and uneven. His eyes flick over you. No expression crosses his face.

“John? You’re home,” the sigh in your last word pulls him through the door and into your arms.

It’s too late for your mind to come up with reasons why dragging him into your room after locking the front door would be a bad idea. Stripping him of his boots and his pants you invite him to lay under the blankets with you by laying them atop him and letting him settle into the mattress. Crossing around the bed you join him between the sheets. Laying on your side you stare at him.

Something about him felt broken and you didn’t dare hold him and make it worse.

“What can I do John?” You ask the darkness between you.

The words settle on him like the ice blown around in the wind of the gulag.

“Tell me what happened while I was gone. I don’t feel real.”

You scoot closer to him in the bed, less than a handswidth between you.

“I brought your suit home. I missed you a few weeks after you left and had nothing but the photo from the party and your gift. My mom started going to individual therapy. We tried a couple of family sessions but the therapist recommended that she do some personal work before we attempt to do much more work on fixing our relationship. My brother called me on my birthday, which was unexpected. I bet my po-”

“I missed your birthday?” John’s broken whisper cut you off.

“Yeah,” you reach out and touch his pinky. He flinches so you shift your hand back, but before it can go too far his hand chases you locking your fingers together.

“When is your birthday?”

“Valentine’s Day.”

“You must hate that.”

The accurate observation surprises you. You’ve talked with other people who have birthdays on holidays, most Christmas and New Year’s babies hate it, birthdays on big celebration days that aren’t the big big ones tend to go either way but for you, it always felt required to have a date on your birthday. Were you out because your date wanted to celebrate you or show off for the table around you?

“I do,” you let out a small chuckle. “My brother was born on May Day, he doesn’t seem to mind it. When is your birthday John?”

“July second.” He pulls in a deep breath, “Will you hold me?”

Small and scared his voice pierces into your chest.

“However you want to be held,” you answer in earnest.

“Lay back?”

You adjust to settle on your back, fixing the pillow below your head. John follows you, as cautious as an alley cat. Once his head is resting against your chest, chin tipped between your breasts you curl your arm around his shoulder next to your ribs and rest your hand on his back. The shuddering breaths that start from him prompt you to keep telling him about what happened while he was away.

“Did you know your muppets came to visit me? They all brought in their own fixes and asked to use your cot. Every one of them woke looking like they had no clue where they were and agreed that they understood why you kept coming back for naps.”

You talk until you drift into sleep, but your dreams are full of stories so maybe you talk to John until you wake.

Part 7 | Part 8

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

[aventurineswife]

Hii! It's the same Anon who asked the sibling like Reader with the Astral Express! Could I request another one, but with Reader welcoming Sunday with open arms? Thanks!

- 🌱

A Place to Belong

Summary: Sunday, a new member of the Astral Express, finds himself unsure about his place among the crew. You welcome him with open arms, offering kindness and reassurance as he begins his journey of healing and self-discovery. Through heartfelt conversations and genuine connection, Sunday starts to see the Express not just as a means of redemption but as a home and family.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Platonic, Found Family, Comfort and Healing, Emotional Introspection, Light Humor, Fluff with a Hint of Melancholy.

Warnings: Mentions of past mistakes and guilt, Subtle references to emotional trauma, Themes of redemption and self-acceptance.

The Astral Express hummed softly as it floated through the endless expanse of stars. You stood by the observation window, gazing at the universe outside, yet your thoughts lingered elsewhere. Himeko had announced earlier that a new member would be joining the crew today—someone named Sunday. From her tone, it was clear he carried a past as intricate as the galaxies you traversed.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of excitement. Welcoming new members to the Express had always been your forte. Something about offering a safe space to someone starting anew warmed your heart, and you hoped today would be no different.

The sound of measured footsteps broke your reverie. You turned, and there he was.

Sunday stood with an ethereal grace that could only belong to a Halovian. His hair shimmered under the soft lights of the cabin, and his golden halo, marked with eye-like symbols, floated behind his head like a quiet sentinel. His eyes, sharp yet melancholic, scanned the room before landing on you. A faint flutter of his feathered wings—adorned with golden studs—betrayed his hesitance.

You smiled warmly and stepped forward. "You must be Sunday. Welcome aboard the Astral Express. I’m [Name]."

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze distant as though weighing the significance of your words. Then, with a small nod, he replied, “Thank you. It’s...a pleasure to be here.” His voice was gentle, airy, yet carried an undercurrent of weariness, like a lullaby sung by someone too tired to sleep.

You tilted your head, reading between the lines of his composed demeanor. “It’s okay to feel a bit out of place at first,” you offered. “Everyone here has their own story, their own baggage. You don’t have to shoulder everything alone anymore.”

His wings shifted slightly, a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps?—crossing his face. “You’re kind,” he said softly, his halo shimmering faintly as though reflecting his emotions.

“Kindness is free, you know,” you teased, though your tone was lighthearted. “Let me show you around. I think you’ll find the Express is more than just a train. It’s a home.”

He hesitated for a heartbeat before nodding. “Lead the way.”

As you guided Sunday through the train, pointing out everything from the archives to the observation car, you made sure to keep the conversation easy and casual. He listened intently, occasionally offering a quiet comment or question. Still, his responses were measured, as though he were testing the waters of trust.

When you finally reached the lounge, you plopped onto one of the plush sofas and gestured for him to do the same. “So,” you said, leaning forward, “what made you decide to join the Express?”

Sunday’s wings folded neatly behind him as he sat, his eyes lowering. “I’ve...been searching for something,” he began slowly, his voice tinged with an almost imperceptible sorrow. “Redemption, perhaps. A way to reconcile the choices I’ve made with the person I wish to become.”

You listened without interruption, sensing the weight of his words. When he paused, you spoke, your tone gentle but firm. “I think the fact that you’re here means you’ve already taken the first step. Nobody on this train is perfect. We’re all just trying to do our best, one day at a time.”

Sunday looked at you, his expression softening. “Do you believe that even the most flawed among us deserve a second chance?”

“I don’t just believe it—I live by it,” you replied earnestly. “And you’re no exception, Sunday. Whatever you’ve been through, whatever mistakes you’ve made, you’re here now. That counts for something.”

His halo flickered faintly, and for the first time since meeting him, a faint smile touched his lips. “You remind me of someone I used to know,” he murmured.

“Hopefully someone you liked?” you joked, leaning back with a grin.

Sunday chuckled softly, the sound light yet laced with a bittersweet undertone. “Yes,” he said simply. “Someone I liked very much.”

The hours passed in easy conversation, your words weaving a tapestry of welcome and understanding. By the time the train dipped into a calm pocket of starlight, Sunday’s guarded demeanor had relaxed ever so slightly.

“Thank you, [Name],” he said as you walked him to his quarters. “For...making this easier than I expected. I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

You smiled, giving him a playful nudge. “That’s what siblings are for, right? You’re part of the family now, Sunday. And family looks out for each other.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the melancholia in them seemed to lift. “Family,” he repeated softly, as though testing the word. “I think I’d like that.”

As he stepped into his room and the door closed behind him, you felt a sense of fulfillment. Sunday might have been searching for redemption, but here on the Astral Express, he had found something just as important: a place to belong.

[hyperfixationhobo]

Rafayel and Zayne definitely have their own special quiet time together. Like, Zayne does his paperwork while Raf leans against him while sketching. Just the sound of pencil on paper filling the room for a few hours. Raf doodles little snowmans eating macarons on the corners of Zayne’s paperwork and the doctor smiles softly. Makes the tiresome task seem a bit more fun. Zayne in turn draws wonky looking fish in Rafayel’s sketchbook, an expertly drawn fish always swims by it.

[alastor-simp]

Never Been Kissed💋 - Alastor x Female Reader

❥Summary: It gets revealed to everyone that you have never been kissed before ever, in your previous life and afterlife, and a certain deer demon takes interest in that

❥Tags: Alastor x Female Reader, Alastor x Reader, Never Been Kissed, First Kiss, Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction, Angel Is Your Bestie, Hint of Spice, Kissing, Al Becomes A Kissing Maniac

❥Notes: I love First Kiss stories so I wanted to do one with Alastor. Enjoy:) (Fanart credit to unakura on Twitter)

"That guy is smoking hot!! Denise is def gonna choose him." Angel said, as he was leaning against the pillow, face a bit flushed from the guys hotness. "Nah, he's too much of a tool. Besides Ray is a much better choice and he's much hotter." You argued back against Angel's comment. The both of you were watching a hell's version of a dating show, set in the Lust Ring of Hell. It was similar to the shows on Earth, just with demons and more sluttier plot. Everyone else was doing their own thing, Charlie and Vaggie were deciding what the next redemption lesson was, Sir Pentious and Niffty were baking in the kitchen, Husk was cleaning the bar glasses, and Alastor was sitting across from the both of you, reading his daily newspaper, chair facing a bit away from the TV due to his dislike of it.

The show continued on, the two pairs becoming a couple, which eventually lead to a hot make out session. Flustered, you turned your head away, raising your hand above your eyes to cover the scene in front of you. Angel took quick notice of your reaction, bolting out in laughter. "HAHA what's the matter with ya? Can't handle a little kissy kiss scene?" You shook your head no at his question, causing him to laugh more. "Seriously toots, you act like you never kissed before." Angel continued to laugh, his feet kicking up in the air. Lowering your hand, your face flushed red, super embarrassed. "I haven't." Unbeknownst to you, Alastors ears flicked a bit at what you said, eyes leaving the paper to gaze at you. Angel couldn't fully make out what you said because of his laughter, but he soon stopped, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What you say toots? I didn't catch that." Angel asked, inching closer towards you. Fingers twirling your hair, you slowly responded back to Angel, "I have never been kissed."

"WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?" Angels loud response, alerted the residents around him, half of them running into the lobby to see what was going on. Angel hands had grabbed your shoulders, shaking you like a maniac. "YOU'RE TELLING ME IN THE TIME YOU HAVE BEEN ALIVE AND IN HELL, NO HANDSOME SCHMUCK HAS EVER KISSED YOU BEFORE?!" Angel had fully stopped shaking you, which you were thankful for since you started to feel a bit sick. "No." The others had walked closer to where you were on the couch, except Al as he was still sitting on the chair, but his newspaper was closed, watching the scene in front of him with curious eyes. "OH MY SATAN!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! Angel's body began to lean against the couch, hands covering his eyes in disbelief.

Vaggie had slowly made her away over, a bit annoyed at Angel's reaction. "Hey, there's no need to get so work about a stupid kiss. Plenty of people have never been kissed before." Angel removed his hands from his face, glaring a bit at Vaggie. "That's not why I'm shocked. I'm shocked that someone hasn't taken one look at my best friend and thought "I wanna smooch them." Feels like a crime." Niffty, being her quick self, had run up on the couch, hands placed on your cheeks, crazed eye starring at you. "How come you never gotten kissed before? Saving yourself for the ultimate bad boy? It felt like a million eyes were watching you right now, making you extremely shy - your body wanting to escape from this awkward situation. "Look I- I don't um...."

Sensing your discomfort, Charlie had walked over, grabbing Niffty softly, setting her down on the floor. "Okayyyyyy lets change the subject alright. I have a brand new idea for all of us to try, now if you will all follow me." You were grateful to Charlie that she was trying to stir the whole topic to something else. Angel appeared apologetic, patting your head, mouthing an apology, before he got up, walking over to join Charlie and the others. You, however, weren't in the mood to join them, deciding it be better to just go to your room. As you got up and walked away, you didn't notice the crimson glowing eyes watching you, as you began to head up to your room.

***Your Bedroom***

Heaving a sigh, you carried yourself over to the bed, flopping on to it, face hitting the soft pillow. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself, wanting to hide from the world. The whole lobby situation was still playing in your mind, making you groan. Hand reaching for your other pillow, you placed it against you, hugging it tightly. You decided it be better to just sleep off what just happened, placing your face further into the pillow you were hugging, closing your eyes. A soft tapping sensation was hitting your head, but you chose to ignore it. The sensation continued, which caused you to open your eyes. Moving the cover, your eyes peaked out to see Alastor, sitting on your bed, smiling down at you. "Ahh, she finally reveals herself! Hello, my dear!" He said with astounding enthusiasm, making you groan more. "Leave me alone Alastor please." The cover returned to your head, blocking your face from Alastor again. "Now now, don't hide yourself away from me. I merely wanted to spark up a conversation with you." His clawed hand gripped at your cover, pulling it away from you, revealing yourself to him again.

Debating whether to grab the sheet again, you chose not to, unless you wanted to anger him. Slowly getting up, you looked at Al, wearing an annoyed expression. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?" Widening his smile, Alastor leaned on his side on the bed, hand placed against his cheek, "From what the effeminate spider yelled out in the lobby, you have never been kissed before, correct?" Your eyes widen at him. Seriously? He was bringing this up again?! Heaving a sigh, you nodded your head, cheeks becoming aflamed. The embarrassment radiating off of you, brought massive satisfaction to him, his smile stretching to the point it could break his face. "I don't indulge in topics of conversation like this, but this one had peaked my curiosity. So enlighten me, my dear, why haven't you kissed anyone?"

"He's messing with me", was your first thought when he asked you this, but reading his expression more closely, you realized he was being serious with his question. Turning away, hands fiddling together, you tried to answer him, "I don't have a clear answer for that. I guess what Niffty said is kinda true. Waiting for the right person...I guess." Silence filled the air after you gave your answer, only thing you could hear was the soft sounds of static from Al. "You were expecting the classic fairytale, finding your one true love kiss, I presume? His tone mocked you, making you a bit angry that he was finding amusement in this. "Yeah that's exactly it, now that I have answered your question, can you please leave me alone?" Grabbing the cover that Alastor had pulled away from you, covering your body and face, you fell on your side to the bed, facing away from him.

Static chuckling came from next to you, as you stayed under the covers, refusing to come out. "If it's something you desire, I will be willing to grant it." He spoke so calmly like he didn't just say the most shocking thing ever. Popping your head out of the cover, you craned your neck towards him, giving him an "Are you serious" look. "Yeah right. You're just joking with me." Laughing at what he said, you turned away, resuming to stay inside your blanket. A rush of wind could be heard next to you, and before you knew it, Alastor was inside the cover with you, body hovering above you, hands placed on the sides of the bed "Who's joking?" He spoke, no hint of static in his voice, as his crimson eyes gazed down at you, lips in a smirk. Jumping at his position being on top of you, your mouth became unable to form words. Was he serious? He wanted to kiss you? "Is it okay if I ask why?" You spoke softly at him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Alastor appeared a bit put off by your question, for he himself, was a bit befuddled as to why he wanted to kiss you. His eyes gazed up, thinking hard about it. "I've roamed hell for many years, having no interest in acts of affection or romance. Many suitors often came my way, but I broke their hearts, or ate them HAHAHAHA!" His eyes flashed into dials for a second as his head went back from his uproar of laughter. Eyes continued to stare at him as he slowly calmed down from his laughing fit, face taking on a more serious tone, despite the smile still remaining on his face, “However! There were times I wondered what it would be like to take part in acts like this." The radio filter left his voice, as gloved fingers gripped your chin, thumb tracing your bottom lip, softly.

Your face was probably was red as his hair right now, as your brain was still trying to process what he was saying. Your eyes continued to stare up at Al, who continued to smile, eyes filled with softness, for once. "Is...are you comfortable doing this?" You quietly asked, palms feeling sweaty from how nervous you were. His head tilted with a crack, once again, confused by your question. "I'm worried that doing this is overstepping your boundaries. What if I am a bad kisser or have bad breath, what if I-" A boisterous laugh erupted from Al, shaking the bed, as the both of you were still covered in the tent-like blanket. "My sweet darling, there is no need to worry about trivial things like that. As for my boundaries, I am the one that is initiating this, so once again, no need to worry."

His wide smile had dropped into a gentle one, fingers still caressing your lip, before moving to your cheek. You bit your lips a bit, before opening them slowly, "Okay." Ears twitched at your answer, crimson eyes filled with a hint of desire plus hesitance, as he bent down a bit, face coming closer to yours. The beating of your heart was so loud, you could hear it in your ears, and you were certain Al could hear it too. The scent of his cologne was making you dizzy- mixed with hints of blood and graveyard dirt. Reflections were seen in both of your eyes, him seeing himself and you seeing yourself. His lips continued to move closer, inch by inch, until they were placed onto yours, soft almost like a butterfly had landed on it.

The glow from his eyes had vanished, closing them as he pushed a bit further into the kiss, making you gasp a bit. A few minutes has passed, as Alastor slowly pulled away, glowing eyes returning to admire you. You felt breathless, despite how tender the kiss was, it had you weak. “Did you enjoy it?” He asked, his lips distracting you, making you forget his question. “Huh? Um..yes…it…was…nice. How about you?” You ask as if out of breath, heart fluttering still. “Surprisingly pleasing.” He said matter-of-factly, but judging from his appearance, he looked more disheveled than you.

No one uttered a word after that, the both of you continuing to stare at each other. “May I do it again?” He whispered, causing goosebumps to form all over you. You nodded, answering his question. His lips returned again, this time with more passion. The gasp you let out allowed his tongue to enter, intensifying the kiss. The weight of his body was on you now, his chest against yours, feeling his racing heart. His teeth bit your lip slightly, drawing some blood, making him hum at the taste as his tongue continued to intertwine with yours. Moaning into the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his back, pulling him closer. The both of you broke the kiss, string of saliva appearing from both of your mouths. Heavy breaths could be heard, as glazed eyes stared down at you, ashen cheeks flushed. "Again." was said from him, lips returning back to you again, and again and again.

-END-

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