#they were equally matched and beautifully acted

[itspileofgoodthings]

okay but Kola saving Mills not once but twice … KILLED me

[diejager]

...i mean i have plenty of dark ideas with makarov but i mean... i kinda want to know on your thoughts with makarov and a reader who's equally dark/cunning. match made in hell basically

котёнок (A/n):I read a bit about him, but I can’t say that my portrayal of him is faithful to the game.

A fucking match made in hell. He doesn’t love easily, nor does he devote himself to someone as much as he did with Zakhaev often, but once he does give you this deluded level of love and devotion, it’s yours until he dies. In his mind, anything goes, shooting his only friend, bombing civilian areas to kill off one enemy, or trafficking as a source of money. Vladimir Makarov had no limit when it came to what he believes in.

He might be unpredictable with his acts and strict with his decisions, but that - by no means - meant that he didn’t like to play games, despite everything that went on in his life, Makarov loved games. He liked playing with his enemy, making it seem like they were ahead of him, only to disappear, being ten feet ahead. But then you appear, foiling his plans left and right, seeming to play right into his hands, moving as he predicted, only to outplay him, smirking his way as you strut away. He was mesmerized, the sight of the woman who had tricked the devil, clad in black and smile as sinfully cunning as his.

Makarov called you his котёнок —his kitten. He watched you in admiration, hungering for any moment with or against you, a gem in the corrupted world he lived in. He loathed that you weren’t working with him, standing beside him with that beautifully, cruel sneer you gave anyone who disappointed you. You didn’t follow the good or evil side, uncaring of who worked for the betterment of the world - he’d seen and heard you fucking up the 141’s attempts as you did with his - you only followed the wining side, the one who had the money to show and the hand to control it.

For months, he tried his luck, sending messages to you in many way, both nefarious and quiet, anything to contact you, anything to have you on his side; and when he had you working with him, striding to him in all your confident glory, he couldn’t be any prouder. Makarov had another asset up his sleeve, one more important than others, he cherished you, he devoted his time to you and he love you in his own twisted way.

If his котёнок wanted to play, he would play. He would back you up in every decision you mad, the jobs you took, the deals you signed. If you wanted to burn down the world, he would do it with you; if you wanted to bomb a public building, he would provide you the explosives; and if you wanted a hand in rebuilding the world in your image, he would help you, lead the men that worked under him and push your ideals.

Makarov didn’t just love you, he was obsessed, addicted —he was devoted to your being, cunning and devious. He might pull a few strings in the dark, but you were a danger on your own, giving your rivals and enemy a run for their money, and he loved that. You controlled the room when you sat down, your nails cackling on the table eerily as you stare down the people across from you, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, a stoic mien before cowering men.

He would sometimes stand behind you, acting as the looming shadow that added to your scary image, or he’d take up the seat beside yours, head tilted up with his arms crossed, the image of a confident tyrant, poised and powerful. You were a dark pleasure, sly and opportunistic, and he, a wicked and cunning man, portraying his ideology through his spread of terror.

“My sweet, sweet kitten,” he whispered in Russian, pressing his lips to yours, kiss feverish and rough, all teeth and domination. “Tell me, what is it you want?”

Tag list: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[ellieswaifu]

MUSE. ellie williams x artist!reader.

summary: modern/college!au – ellie williams x fem!artist!reader. SFW! ellie has always had a crush on you, the girl who sat right in front of her in art class.

a/n: also hi i’m back looool (not proofread per usual)

The setting sun bleeds through the curtains of the art room, painting the walls in a soft orange that met the subtle undertones of your skin as you gazed right up the girl who had been standing frozen between the doorframe. Her backpack slung loosely over her shoulder and her short brown hair tousled lightly down her neck, partly tied at the back of her head as she grips the door handle. You were also quite frozen in your seat, arm lifting a paintbrush to a blank canvas with your eyes staring back at her. You wondered what she was doing, standing there with an unwavering stare like a statue.

It had been about an hour since class had been dismissed and you found yourself in a staring competition with a fellow classmate; a classmate you were quite fond of, a classmate you were quite attracted to. How could you not? It was Ellie. She was smart, creative, and ambitious, all equally matched her dashing good looks. She was very popular with the ladies, including you, and went to lots of parties, a crowd you never really thought of joining. It was strange being in a situation you would never have guessed to be in with this person. And after moments of unending eye contact, you finally broke the ice.

“May I help you?”

“O-Oh,” Ellie twitches in surprise after realizing how long she had been staring. “Sorry, I-I just forgot something. Didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay, Ellie. I don’t mind,” you reply, setting your brush down against the table.

“I, uh, I didn’t think you’d know my name.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, smiling lightly at her statement, “Are you kidding? What kind of person do you take me for? You sit right behind me.”

She was very well aware of this after the countless stares, including this one, that she had shamefully indulged in during class as you worked beautifully on your art. Beautiful. It was a word she often associated with you. Every time she looked at you; beautiful. She had developed this secret crush on you since the beginning of the year, having no courage to act on her feelings other than stare at you directly from behind for at least an hour each weekday.

Ellie slowly walks towards her desk, right behind you, “I know… But I mean, we don’t really talk so I… I don’t know. I thought I’d be like a blur to you… If that makes sense.”

“Well, don’t sell yourself short. I see you clear as day,” You play with the tube of oil paints with your fingers, smirking softly at her.

“What do you mean?” Ellie blinks at your reply, looking hopeful, hoping for the chance that you might like her the same way she likes you.

“I’ve always admired your work, Ellie. You’re amazing.”

Ellie’s shoulders drop, slightly disappointed, but also appreciative of your opinion of her and her artwork. “Thanks... So what’s got you stuck in here still?”

“Nothing. Just easier for me to do it here, than in my own apartment, I guess. And I like the quiet and the windows. Especially right when the sun sets. Besides, paint is so expensive now,” You roll your eyes, looking over to the almost empty paint tubes your professor let you use.

Ellie’s green eyes light up as she remembers the little stash of art supplies occupying the corner of her dorm room. “Uh, well, if you ever need some oil paint, I’ve got plenty, if you’d like. My dad always gets me art supplies but always in different mediums because he doesn’t know exactly what I use so I always have extra supplies I end up not using. I-I mean, if you want. I mean, I don’t oil paint, so...”

You can’t help but smile at her endearing mannerisms, watching her nervously rub the palm of her hand with her thumb, “That’s sweet of you, Ellie.”

A smile curves under her nose in triumph as her eyes slowly pan over to your easel, “It’s empty. Your canvas.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m… I’m having trouble picking a subject. I kinda sat here for a while doing nothing, staring at it but I can’t think of anything yet... Except…”

Ellie raises her eyebrow, “What are you thinking?”

“A portrait. Well, obviously. But, I’m thinking… I could paint you? If you’ll let me.”

“Yeah,” Ellie says almost embarrassingly fast. “I mean, yeah, sure, if you think I’d be a good reference, yeah.”

You smile, “You’d be perfect, Ellie.”

Ellie begins to lose focus, mind fast forwarding to the time the two of you would be spending together. Painting was a slow process, especially one for an oil painter. She became grateful that you were one. Not only were you an amazing artist, but you spend a long time trying to hone your craft, so the time she’ll be sitting as your model would take more than a couple of days. Time with you. An excuse to be with you. Finally. After staring at the back of your head, watching you work as she sat behind you with constant adoration, she thanked whoever it was that led up to this moment.

It’s the fourth day of her sitting on this old brown stool you pulled out from the classroom closet. Ellie sits in her usual pose; relaxing, slouching slightly, a foot planted onto the floor while the other sits on the footrest, staring at your face as you painted. She found that you had a face you put on as you concentrated on your work — a sight she would’ve never gotten to see from sitting behind you in class. She was grateful for this experience, to be able to see you like this, putting most of your attention on her. The first day, she was quiet, seemingly nervous as she fiddled with her hands every time you would turn to look at her, making her almost want to look away, knowing her cheeks would be getting redder by the second. Now, it was easier for her to control. She was more confident, at ease and often finding herself babbling about her aerospace class like the nerd she is.

And you looked beautiful, as always. It felt different, sitting in front of you, rather than behind. She couldn’t look over your shoulder to see your work anymore, like she always does. Only you. In a way, she liked this better. She liked watching you work, watching how gentle your brush strokes were, how precise and calculated they were, how your technique never faltered and how amazing the canvas looked when you put your strokes together. But now, she could only see you. Your hair tied loosely away from your face, your eyes darting back and forth between her and the canvas, your apron tied around your pretty waist, a pencil tucked behind your ear, the way your eyebrows furrow in frustration when you can’t get something right, and the way you occasionally take a couple steps back away from the canvas to inspect everything thoroughly before diving right back into painting. You were quiet and concentrated, even when you gave small hums of affirmation when Ellie would talk.

And all Ellie could think about was how pretty you were, standing there, so unaware of the thoughts of you that filled her brain, masked behind her small but many talks of her space class.

“How’s it going over there?” Ellie asks curiously, scratching the back of her neck as she continues to grow more and more nervous under your stare.

“It’s… going…” You mumble, putting the end of your brush between your teeth, biting it slightly in frustration as you think.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s missing…” Your sentence drifts, incomplete, as your eyes pan slowly over towards her once more, this time never leaving.

It only takes a second for you to put your brush down against your palette before walking over to where Ellie was sitting, stepping into her bubble, leaning down dangerously close to her face. Ellie twitches in surprise, eyes widening at the sudden closeness you two shared.

She could smell you. The soft fragrance that was so… you. She could see your eyes scanning every inch of her face, making her conscious of what she looked like during each passing second. But you were so close. It felt intoxicating.

So, she couldn’t help herself. Ellie brings her hands up to rest them on your hips, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, one of her thumbs going through the belt loop of your jeans. Her eyes trail up to yours before darting down to where your lips were, sitting there so plump and delicious, practically calling out to her like a moth to a flame, as you continued to stare down at her. You loved the feeling of her hands on your body and you decided to respond by wrapping your arms around her neck, brown locks slipping through your fingertips.

If she could just tilt her head to the side a little more, lean her head upwards closer, she could just…

“Freckles... I was missing your freckles,” you sigh dreamily, already forgetting about the painting as you continued to stare at the girl in front of you. You bring your hand up to caress her face, thumb brushing softly over her eyebrow, paint smudging lightly against her skin, “You have a scar…”

“Yeah…” Ellie breathes, unable to take her eyes off your lips as you spoke softly.

“Where’s it from?”

“I… I liked building things as a kid. I tried to make a robot… Never worked, obviously, so I… I pulled it apart and destroyed it with a knife and I messed up with the angle I was cutting it with, and accidentally flung it towards my face.”

You hum in amusement, a smirk tugging at your lips, “I think the scar looks good on you.”

“You think so?” Ellie says, hands shifting slightly to rest underneath your sweater, feeling the skin of your waist, inching you closer towards her body, between her legs.

“Yeah,” you say lowly, before coming close to press your lips slightly towards her ear to whisper, “It makes you look sexy.”

Ellie can’t help but close her eyes, releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The way you looked at her right now made her feel like she was on fire. Her face was burning up surely, but her heart was beating so fast it felt like it waking explode.

“I wanna kiss you,” she says, almost desperately.

You smile and run a hand through her hair, tugging on it lightly, making her groan lowly against you. “What’s stopping you?”

Ellie’s lips curve into a cocky smirk as she looks up at you with nothing but affection in her eyes, watching you like you were the most beautiful thing on the planet. “Nothing.”

And then, her lips pressed against yours with a gentle eagerness as her hands pulling you by your waist. It’s a moan that tugs on her heartstrings and is the cause of all the butterflies in her stomach. She discovers you like pulling at her hair when your paint-stained hands tug on it for the second time today, groaning against your lips at the feeling of your hands in her locks.

You pull back and smile when you see the subtle but visible pout on her lips, “How was that?”

Ellie can only shake her head and mutter two simple words desperately, “Not enough.”

And she dives right back against your mouth, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. Your hands trail down from her hair, resting your palms against her shoulder to find your balance, the kiss making you all dizzy. You unknowingly leave paint all over her shirt and her neck as she groans against your lips, seemingly never wanting to part from you ever.

You pull away again, both of you out of breath, lips hovering over each other as you regain your focus.

“I think we—” Ellie steals a kiss from you as you spoke. “Really need to—“ And then another. “Get back to—“ And then another. “Work!” You exclaim with laugh, pushing Ellie’s shoulders to keep her from coming closer even thought she had her arms wrapped around you still.

“I like kissing you,” Ellie says, hypnotized by you, how she felt like she was holding the literal embodiment of art in her arms. And finally, the words she’s been dying to tell you since she’s known you: “I like you.”

And she kisses you again, softer this time, humming lightly against your lips, hands treating you like porcelain. You tasted so good to her. She couldn’t help but want more. You moan in surprise as you feel her tongue drag across your bottom lip and instinctively, you open your mouth only slightly, but it was enough to push her tongue against yours, groaning in satisfaction, the taste of your tongue even more addicting. The grip you had on her shoulders only grew tighter as you kissed her.

“Mmhm, Ellie,” you moan.

Ellie groans into your mouth, immediately falling in love with the sound of your moans, squeezing your hips tighter, wanting to hear more from you before you move your head back to look at her. You stare down at her skin, thumb brushing over the freckles you wanted to kiss one by one.

Ellie pulls away with a smile, confidence growing by the second, “Yeah, baby?”

You roll your eyes and smile, leaning down to peck her lips once more, “I like you, too.”

And you kiss her again as she smiles into your lips. Your unfinished canvas was long forgotten as Ellie continues to distract you with her lips as your hands paints her skin.

You make a note to remind yourself to continue what you started, the painting and the kissing, both inspired by the muse which was Ellie.

a/n: thank u for reading my loves :)

[mywritingonlyfans]

Ethereal Night. // Alex Turner X Reader. Smut!

prompt: the whole fanfic is an excuse for me to have written about face fucking with alex, so that's all. and yes, it is after a band show and after watching him beautifully on stage and about him wasting his tension and energy down on you (or just mouth, you'll have to read).

words: 2,5K.

Watching Alex on stage was ethereal, it always had been. You had been with him for a while now and could confirm it. The night was hot and he remained properly dressed in his suit. You could see that he was suffering from the heat, but you found it pleasant to see the white shirt starting to become transparent under his blazer, a privileged view for being so close to him. He acted out his well-written lyrics and in your head, it was quite attractive. You enjoyed seeing him happy and doing what he loved. Occasionally, he would look at you, singing along with a smile on his face. He would never deny how much he enjoyed having you watch his shows. He tried to disguise it, but he always ended up being caught up in you for longer than necessary. His fingers on the guitar, the way his lips almost touched the microphone to sing, and every time he touched his glasses or his hair was something very delirious for you, and it didn't take long for him to notice your long sighs. 

And so, Alex's mind was thinking of all the possible scenarios he had already had and would still have with you after the final song. Just like your hands and lips, stuck to him minutes before he got on stage, in a failed attempt to fake how much you begged for his attention, wishing him good luck before leaving him with flushed cheeks and neck, and a mind corrupted before stumbling on the first verses of the night. He could not help but love every second of that.

Faced with such a perspective, the following steps were equally expected and desired by both.

As soon as he finished his performance, he would come off the stage with a contagious energy, eagerly waiting to embrace you in his warm and sweaty body. You would jump into his arms, feeling weightless as he lifted you up and spun you around. He had a way of making you feel giddy and lightheaded, leaving you breathless and wanting for more. He would pepper your cheeks and neck with kisses, leaving small love bites that made you squirm with delight.

You would pull him away from the guys, wanting to steal a moment alone with him. It was your ritual after every concert, and tonight would be no exception. He would gladly oblige, eager to spend some quality time with you. As you both walked to a quieter place, he would hold your hand tightly, unable to contain his excitement. He loved being around you, and you made him feel like he was on top of the world.

As you found a quiet room, he would pull you in for a passionate kiss, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, matching the rhythm of yours. Being with him felt like coming home, and you never wanted to let him go. You both would spend the night lost in each other's embrace, feeling the warmth and love that only the two of you shared. Even if it meant exchanging profane words and bodies marked like one of the others.

From then on, even without words that could show agreement, you knew that the night would be long and validly lasting.

So, as he closed the door behind him, Alex turned to you with a grin. "Did you like the gig? What did you think?" he asked, knowing the answer already but still craving your praise. He had discarded his blazer along the way and his white shirt was sticking to his bare chest, making you want to run your hands all over him.

Getting dangerously close to you, he caught your lower lip between his teeth as he hugged you to himself. Soon, you were pressing him against the door, looking straight into his eyes from the tip of your toes. His hair was damp, his skin shiny and sticky. As soon as he wet his lips and dried you out with his gaze, you had to sigh for balance, and he chuckled smugly.

"It was good. I kinda fancy the man enjoying himself, pulling the best facial expressions while acting his best lyrics out there. Quite hot, I might add," he said. Though you tried to remain convincing, your voice cracked a little.

"I'm your number one fan, Alexander. You better not forget that and treat me right," you whispered closer to his ear, already feeling the effect of him getting under your skin.

"And what are you going to do about it?" His voice thickened, making you shiver. He held the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer until his mouth was mere inches away from yours. After thousands of exchanged glances while he was singing on stage, you got on top of his feet and kissed him. It was messy and urgent, with your teeth chattering and the taste of his desire taking over you. 

You whispered "Al" into his mouth, letting your breath wash over him as your fingers delved into his damp hair, pulling some locks for yourself.

"Huh," he bit at your lower lip, getting a quiet moan out of you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a flushed Alex, already growing impatient in front of you with his serious and mysterious baby face.

You giggled as he squirmed under your touches, feeling his excitement grow as you rubbed your knee between his thighs. "I want to properly praise you for tonight," you said, adding pressure to his bulge and running your fingers through the hair on his chest before moving down to the hem of his dark pants. "Can I taste you, pretty boy?" Your finger slipped inside his underwear, causing his stomach to contract and a smile to spread across your face.

"Sure, go ahead, doll," he said, holding onto your shoulders as you knelt before him. His voice no longer hid how sore he felt anymore. He knew that in any other circumstance, he would be the one pounding into you or diving between your legs, but right now he was content to let you take control.

As he expected, you tucked your hair behind your ear and propped yourself up on his thighs, placing your hands just below his waist. "Unbutton yourself for me, babe" you instructed, placing a gentle but wet kiss on his thigh.

Complying with your request, he kept his eyes locked onto your face, your lips swollen from the previous actions. He pulled off his pants along with his underwear, revealing exactly what you had been yearning for. Your smile was priceless under his gaze. "Do you like what you see, pup?" he spoke softly, and both of you knew that it wouldn't be long before your roles would switch. In just a few minutes, he would be the one in charge, not you - it was a fact.

You said excitedly, holding him in your hands, and giving him a few pumps, causing him to let out sighs that filled the room. "Are you excited about it, pretty boy? Are you imagining when you have my mouth?" With that said, he thrust his hips into your hand, and you leaned in, watching him look at you intently, and licked his slit, savoring his sweetness for yourself.

"C'mon," he said, already breathless, holding your hair and twining it around his fist, before you had your lips pressed against him.

"Wait, it was my time to shine!" you whined, though you didn't sound annoyed at all.

"You shine when you're not being a tease, baby doll," he said simply, guiding his tip between your lips. "Now be good and take it, huh?"

You nodded, gathering saliva to accommodate him, opening your mouth wide with your tongue ready for him, letting him fill you up. He held onto the back of your neck, making you close your eyes and concentrate on sucking his entire length into your warmth. You went on like this, having him lost in front of you, in such a comfortable sight.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered hoarsely, with difficulty. His hand was firmly on you, and your already slightly watery eyes could follow the nervous veins in his toned arms as your tongue curled around him sucking what you could get - or well, what he let you have.

“Look at me, babe,” he pulled you by the hair so he could pull him out of your mouth, causing in a pleasant ‘pop’ noise to sound in his ears as he admired your saliva running down the corners of your lips.

  “What’s wrong?” You said quietly, wiping yourself off with the back of your hand. Alex was completely surrendered to have you in that state.

“Nothing, I just need more,” he paused, swallowing hard. A simple act, but enough for you to understand what he wanted. You were never one to want to be in control when it came to him anyway. “More of you.” His cheeks were red and muscles still tense, needing you.

You smiled enthusiastically, assuring him that you were down to it. “Yes, babe, please,” you whispered, leaning properly on his thighs, parting your lips again for him. You just wanted to see him great, relaxed and well taken care of after the concert. You felt like a needy whore, but you liked the idea.

Shutting you up with his weight, he held tight to your hair once again, guiding you the way he wanted you. His eyes roamed over your face, only to receive a nod to let him know that you were okay with that. And then, with your throat appropriately relaxed to take him. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like that, baby doll.” He stroked your cheek, meeting your pleading gaze. He swore he could have felt harder and wetter.

In response to your wishes, he thrusted his hips into you, pushing himself into your mouth as you beautifully closed your eyes in contentment. Alex pulled up to the tip,  grunting at the discomfort and the spittle that coated him as well as dripped down your chin, just to shove your throat right after. 

 Alex’s movements were repeated until his noises were way too loud inside the small room, leading to your knees shaking and aching from the position. Your eyes were melting into tears, making it difficult to decide whether to see the state in which you were leaving him or close your eyes to enjoy the feeling of him using you. If there was someone outside, they would clearly know what you were doing, and once again you found yourself enjoying your own situation.

“God, yes,” he groaned, his raspy voice making you want to touch yourself as he eased into you. “You’re taking me so well, fitting me just right into your mouth, right pup? I bet your velvety mouth was made for this, huh? Just to take me and lemme fuck you like the good girl you are.” He ran his thumb down your cheek, brushing away a dark tear of mascara that was running down your angelic face.

Feeling weak, at your best, you could do nothing but agree with his dirty words. Your head was spinning and all you could think about was satisfying him and seeing him at his greatest. You could feel the drool on your chin as a few drops trickled down your arm. Lost in your senses, you watched him, taking note of his dark pupils and wide mouth in such a beautiful sound - which was certainly better than yours at the very moment.

The veins in his neck were tight in between his silent moans, within minutes your throat was being filled with his hot liquid as you swallowed every drop of him, or at least tried.

 His groan was guttural and long, and you swore you wanted to hear more. You let him snuggle up against you, wrapped in your tongue, until he demanded otherwise. He would never have been able to imagine how pleasant that was from the sight of you. “Fuck,” he lamented, needing to get you out of him because it was becoming too much.

You took a few last licks at him, clearly taken by it all. Soon, you felt how dry it could get, you were coughing a little as you felt your throat scratch for the lack of him as you tried to push away your blurred vision with your fists.

He kissed your forehead, taking you to himself, even if a little bit weak. “C’mere ‘ere, pumpkin,” his sweet voice welcomed you as he knelt to hold you in his arms. 

 He kissed your forehead, wiping your mouth with his sleeves. His arms tightened around you, pulling your face to him, showering you with kisses, cheek, nose and then your mouth in an act so gentle that made the previous moment seem banal for both of you. “You’re such a lovely mess right now, loveah. You did so great for me, I’m very proud of you.” He pecked your forehead, still trying to clean up more of the mess that was the makeup under your eyes.

You nodded, just confirming to him how much you enjoyed hearing him say that to you. His fingers ran down your throat, lightly massaging the spot as he had his eyes on you. Your hands played with the collar of his shirt, in a quiet comfortable silence. You needed a break, and he was giving it to you. Your eyes closed solemnly and he kissed your lips a few times, watching you smirk as you caught your breath.

“Are you proud enough that I can be repaid?!” You asked, giving him your best puppy eyes while holding his chin so he could be looking right into you. It wasn't painful to speak, but your voice was still hoarse and tired. 

He bent over you, leaning your back gently on the icy ground, running his teeth over the sensitive skin of your neck and cheering you up. You grabbed his waist, hiding your face in his shoulder for comfort. “Always, babe, always. D’you want to tell me how you want it?” The question coming out of him seemed to wash your mind and before you think about it, you induced him to turn you around. 

 With your belly down and your arms supporting your head like a pillow, Alex grabbed your body to him, trying to get your skirt up without many words, just praising you as you were sighing your light moans, feeling nothing but sore. He rested his face on your shoulder, leaving his mouth glued to your ear in some soft kisses. Your goose bumps content him and soon he had your back stuck to his chest, ready to make your head deafen into empty thoughts.

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @bloo-wisteria (if you want to be added or removed let me know!)

[koushuwu]

Screen Name: Coach

Ukai Keishin | 1,189 words | 18+ content. being a cam boy definitely isn’t for everyone. but it is for ukai keishin, and he’ll make sure to put on a show for his viewers.

CW/TW: exhibitionism, masturbation, anal fingering, solo act.

A red light. Lazily blinking in steady intervals, as the sole indicator that despite being alone, hundreds of eyes were on him. Prying eyes that some would find intrusive. But not to him. To him it was exciting. Thrilling. Heat coursing through his veins. Through every fiber of his being, skin prickling delightfully under the many gazes he knew to be eagerly watching him.

Ukai Keishin’s thighs quivered as he barely stopped his hips from bucking. With the camera angled slightly downward, his viewers were graced with the sight of Ukai’s flexing muscles. The muscles in his thighs where they were spread over each armrest of his chair. The muscles of his biceps and forearms as his large hand wrapped around his equally large shaft.

Ukai knew that at this angle, the lower half of his face would be visible. He knew when he set up his stream and in all honesty, that part had been a very conscious choice. He knew, when his teeth dug into his lower lip. He knew his viewers liked that. He knew his viewers thought he was pretty. At least what they’d seen of him. Ukai didn’t purposefully hide his face but didn’t go out of his way to show it either. Showing off half of his face had become a frequent thing though, when someone had pointed out that seeing his mouth hang slightly open as he worked himself was hot. He liked to treat his viewers and to give them what they liked, so of course he’d made a habit of adjusting the camera just right. 

With two fingers, Keishin trailed up the underside of his cock, feeling it jump as he reached the head. Viewers ticked in quickly as he pressed down in the slit, picking up that little bead of pre that had already leaked. With his other hand, he reached for the lube placed just out of shot and pumped some into his hand. Liking the sensory thrill of the cold against his skin, Ukai opted against warming it between his fingers before smearing the lube up and across his shaft. A shiver raced up his spine, making him shudder against the cold.

Coach had such a pretty cock, that was one thing that all of his viewers could agree on. As it stood proud from his pelvis, looming over his abs, many eyes hungrily followed the movements of his hands as he worked himself into a steady pace. An excruciatingly slow, but steady, pace. He had pretty hands as well. That was another thing that his viewers clearly agreed on as well. Large but beautifully defined and veiny, it matched his cock to perfection and the two working together against a shared goal, was something that had captivated many a viewer.

Using lube wasn’t uncommon for him. Ukai preferred it wet and easy. And it was easy, when his hands worked over his skin, sliding effortlessly up and down his cock. So naturally none of his viewers suspected what Ukai had in mind for today. What he had in store for them. Neither did they, when his strong fingers gracefully slipped down to cup his balls while the other kept stroking himself. But there was something he had in mind. Something he knew that he personally enjoyed, but hadn’t done on a stream before. Not because he was afraid of the reaction, because he personally didn’t care much about that. Simply, he hadn’t realized himself that he enjoyed it before recently. And sure if the audience didn’t find it hot, that would be a shame, but that was all that it would be. He didn’t do this for the money his viewers donated, so losing that wouldn’t matter much. Ukai did this because being watched gave him a different kind of thrill, that he’d never found any place else. It was intense and Ukai was utterly excited to pair it with this new obsession of his. 

So Ukai reached for the lube once more, slipping his fingers over his balls, leaving a wet trail in their wake. And he kept going until the first digit reached past his sack and down to his hole. It wasn’t until now, that his audience started to catch on. Each as one did they sit at the edge of their seats. Watching. Waiting. Breaths heavy in their own desires as they watched Coach angling his approach.

One finger pressed against the ring of muscles of his hole, prompting himself to spread his legs further. The chat erupted the moment the first finger pushed inside. Ukai didn’t see it though. Half hidden by the angle of the camera’s viewfinder, Keishin let his head fall back against the headrest of his chair. His jaw slacked and a tiny groan tumbled over his lips. Coach wasn’t the most vocal man out there, but when his own finger reached deeper inside of himself, he couldn’t help himself. The chat went even wilder as Ukai started pumping his finger in and out of himself in time with his other hand still stroking his cock

An intense heat rose in Keishin’s abdomen, raging through his body and tickling every last inch of his skin. The thrill was even more intense than expected and for a moment, Ukai tensed up, fighting off an orgasm threatening to drag him under. Dragging out the pleasure was a speciality that he enjoyed to treat himself to. Another higher pitched and prolonged sound came from his throat, when Ukai forced himself to relax and keep going. 

Everything was slick and both his hands worked a blissful rhythm. Wet sound filled the air around him and rang throughout his empty apartment. The ground together, Coach managed to lift his head, vision blurring from the pleasure, he looked down to watch himself.

The red dot blinked it’s steady pace as Keishin worked his own. Beads of precum bubbled from the tip of his cock. Lube shun in a slick layer, covering his cock and balls, his hole and both his hands. He was a mess and the sight had his cock twitching in his grasp. With each stroke, his pace grew ever so slightly faster. The wet sheen spurred him on. The thrill. The prying eyes. The pleasure. Ukai’s head was spinning and his skin prickling.

Ukai realized too late that he’d been going too fast. That the orgasm was still lurking and ready to pounce. Teeth clenching even harder together, his balls tightened and it was too late. It was too late and he tumbled over the edge with a needy whine that had his viewers dropping their jaws in awe, as cum erupted from his cock, splattering against his abs as he worked his way through his high. For a moment there was silence as Ukai caught his breath and removed his hands from himself. As usual, he picked up a neatly folded cloth stored to the side, also out of shot, and wiped his hands. Then he lifted his head, cloth still working between his fingers and a satisfied grin stretched his lips, still visible to his audience.

“Thanks for watching.”

[auratusaria]

Prompt No. 7

Villain loves grand and exquisite things, known to be dramatic by everyone that it soon became their signature. And so, the criminal chose the opposite for their civilian identity.

A bland and boring office worker living in a cheap and average apartment building. Though it took them quite some time to get used to such a lifestyle, they've soon took a liking to it. A menace at night and a peaceful boring worker at day. Everything had been calm and relaxing until a new person moved in next door.

That person not only look like a gangster but acted like one too! Every single day, they come out of their room and all they'll ever do is whine and complain and pick a fight left and right! When they're inside their room, they'd blast ear piercing and migraine inducing songs that the thin walls would soon give out on with all the trembling caused by it!

Needless to say, Villain has had enough of it. They went to approach them about it but one thing led to another and the criminal's gentle complaint turned into an argument and the argument turned into a full blown fight which would've ended with the other person unconscious had the other residents not stepped in to stop them.

So the day was going swimmingly. The criminal sustained a few wounds and scratches but nothing too serious, well except for the black eye forming. It also didn't help that Villain has a meeting with Supervillain that night. They contemplated wearing shades to hide it but that seems rather plain, so Villain chose to wear an eyepatch.

They stood in front of Supervillain's office door and straightened themself. They wore a white button up with 4 of its top buttons open and its sleeves rolled up. A coat hang loosely on their shoulders. It isn't practical for a meeting but it matches beautifully with their eyepatch. Their knock was answered with a low and rather tired sounding "come in."

Villain never expected anything when they entered, and certainly not seeing the master criminal read through their documents with shades on. Supervillain is known by the public as Villain's equal in terms of aesthetics. Regal, composed, intimidating. Supervillain carries themself with such dignity it was rather foreign seeing them like that.

"Am I right to assume that I have permission to ask exactly what are you doing?" The criminal moved forward.

Supervillain let out a long exasperated sigh as they leaned back on their chair, "I'm working, obviously."

"With shades on?"

"It's all in braille."

"Right..." Villain trailed off, looking over the documents that had been reprinted to be in braille, "Why are you wearing that anyway?"

"Black eye." Supervillain tipped the glasses down to reveal their black eye and a few scratches just below their eyebrows, "Some bland bastard next door picked a fight with me earlier today, they were lucky I was holding back. Honestly didn't think they'd have the guts to fight."

[mystarmyangel]

[TRANS] 230807 Ahn Seha – ‘King The Land’ Post Drama Interview (Mentioned YoonA portions)

On working with YoonA “YoonA is someone who is considerate and takes good care of people. The griptok on my phone now is also a gift from YoonA. I worked with YoonA previously for the drama ‘The King In Love’. I got married at that time and YoonA wrote me a handwritten letter. She treats the people she worked with very warmly. She was also very nice to the staff too.”

With regards to the reunion with Lim YoonA, he said, “It was so nice to see her. When I first heard that YoonA will be playing the role of Cheon Sarang, I was like ‘Wow really? This is awesome!’. I was always thankful to her so it was great to meet her after a long time. There was a scene when I bid farewell to her in the last episode, and the line, ‘Good work’, had me teared up without me realising it. Even though I didn’t know how it will turn out but at that point of time, I thought to myself ‘it (the filming) has really come to an end’ and it felt strange.”

On YoonA & Junho’s scenes and their professionalism towards acting

The chemistry between the two, which had been drawing attention even before the broadcast, was so natural that even dating rumours emerged. Ahn Seha said, “The two discussed a lot with the director. They kept rehearsing and trying to match each other to make the scene richer. Thanks to that, I thought there is no way but for the scenes to come out beautifully. When I saw how passionate they were, I thought to myself, “Am I taking this too easily?”

In particular, Ahn Seha expressed that he was very curious of how their first kiss would come out in the drama, and said, “Both of them always filmed kiss scenes when the rest of us weren’t there. I watched the broadcast and asked ‘Have you kiss again?’ (Laughs) I actually saw it (the kissing scene) for the first time in episode 12, the scene where they were caught (on the spot by the six siblings).

He added, “When they had a kissing scene in Thailand, we even jokingly said, ‘Shall we go and watch them too?’  That scene was filmed at dawn, but we didn’t go in the end as we were embarrassed to watch in warm places while the two of them were filming in cold water.”

Even Ahn Seha’s wife fell in love with the two’s chemistry. He said, “My wife is also a big fan of ‘King The Land’. I didn’t know my wife would like Junho and YoonA’s scenes so much too. It was amazing to see. My wife don’t watch the dramas I appeared in often. It seems like she usually like dramas that I don’t appear in, but she really like ‘King The Land’ and watched all of it.”

On six siblings’ relationship “We filmed for about 9 months, the lobby scenes were filmed in Jeju. I went to Jeju with Junho and YoonA for 3 to 4 times. We went to a restaurant to talk after filming ended. We spent a long time together so it got a lot comfortable. In Thailand, we spent around 3 weeks together. We played/talked about phone games together and also food related topics, and because we are of similar age (except for Kim Jae Won) so we got even closer. We are also in constant contact.”

“There was one time the 5 of them did a hidden camera prank on me. The prank was about Junho and YoonA quarrelling because of the difficulties faced during filming. I was put in a spot/caught off guard for an hour and half. I thought it was real because they acted so well. They filmed me with a camera, and when I saw that, I realised I had a habit of scratching my neck when I was flustered,” he said while laughing.

When asked on who is the most active in the six siblings’ group chat, Ahn Seha said, “Everyone are equally active in it. It depends on who initiated the conversation first, for example if it started with ‘Junho’s Cuckoo CF is coming out!’ and then we would start asking one another what they have been doing. The six siblings watched the first episode broadcast together. That time, they went to watch my musical together and we watched the first episode together after that. We wanted to watch the last episode together too, but Junho was having his concerts, so we said to gather after the drama ended. Junho also has a 2PM concert coming up, and I wondering if he will invite us to attend.” On dating rumours between YoonA & Junho Previously, rumours of a romantic relationship between Lee Junho and Lim YoonA arose during the airing period of ‘King The Land’, both sides denied it and responded that they are just close friends, ending the rumour as just a happening. When asked about this, Ahn Seha said, “I thought it could be misunderstood because their scenes (chemistry) were intense on the screen”, adding that he did not has any doubt on it. He added, “I wonder will there be rumours of a romantic relationship should I be the one standing next to YoonA? I think such rumours arose because they look so good together and have overflowing chemistry.” He then praised Lim YoonA and Lee Junho, saying, “Both of them are considerate and takes good care of people around them.”

Trans: mystarmyangel Sources: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8)

[leonsliga]

the bayern wembley team was truly magical and you know what I didn't expect? ALL the players in the docu still feel like family and everyone still speaks german. whether they were from russia, croatia, brazil, france..the mia san mia was so strong

A beautiful team with an equally beautiful legacy to match :) I loved that part of the docu too. Just like you, I was very pleasantly surprised at just how much they still talk and act like a family (and how well the internationals still remember their German 🤯). With this squad, it didn’t matter where they were from, just that they had each other and that they would fight for one another. How beautiful it is to see that they haven’t lost that 🥹

THIS is what we talk about when we say the words “mia san mia.” I can’t think of a better example than this group. They were more than teammates, they were genuine friends, and beyond that, a found family.

A moment from the docu that speaks to this beautifully was a simple interaction between Olić and Ribéry. Olić had just returned from injury and was immediately thrust into a UCL match. Watch what happened next:

That’s what gets me: this group did stuff like this for each other all the time. Not because they had to, but because they wanted to. And that makes all the difference. That’s how you define a winning team.

[luckydragon10]

P&P Chapters 5 and 6

(Chapters 3 and 4)

Ahh, let's see, where did we leave off on the scorecard?

Mr. Darcy: -15 Lizzy: +5

Off we go!

Chapter 5

The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly.

The thing I respect most so far is the subtle-yet-vicious shade that the narrator drops everywhere. The sentences following this one are, however, less subtle.

“Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be sure that did seem as if he admired her—indeed I rather believe he did—I heard something about it—but I hardly know what—something about Mr. Robinson.”

Madam, I am removing your em dash privileges. Also, you ain't sublte.

“My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza,” said Charlotte. “Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he?—Poor Eliza!—to be only just tolerable.”

Took me a second to match Eliza with Elizabeth. Oof, many nicknames.

“Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he could not help answering her; but she said he seemed very angry at being spoke to.”

He was probably dreading being spoken to the whole time until she said something. Really, there's a way to be a fun asshole and a way to be a turd, and this is NOT fun asshole behavior. Still, not offensive enough to make any further deductions at present.

Mm, with so many women present, it's very easy to be confused by who's speaking since not all lines are attributed.

I wonder if part of the point is that it doesn't always even matter who's saying what?

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe.

There we go, lean into that title!

Anybody know whether Jane Austin decided the book title early on or late in the writing process? I won't consider that a spoiler, just meta.

Mrs. Bennet getting into a squabble with a little boy certainly says something about her maturity level...

NEXT!

~~~

Chapter 6

Charlotte: "In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better show more affection than she feels."

Yikes. That should not be taken as universally sound advice.

Charlotte again: "When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love as much as she chooses.”

I mean, I get it? It's a problem of being able to spend time together. But still, yikes. Also, "as much as she chooses," PFFT. I shall love you exactly this much and no more. Beautifully British.

Lizzy: "But these are not Jane’s feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of its reasonableness."

Are you in the right book? That sounds very sensible. You really don't fit in here. I'm giving you 5 points for sensibility, bringing you to +10.

“You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself.”

CALL HER OUT! READ HER FOR FILTH!

Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying.

Mr. Darcy, sir, you are embarrassing. I'm almost tempted to make more deductions.

This is developing much differently than I expected.

Lizzy: “But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”

Absolutely the right way to respond to someone creeping on your conversations. You get another +5.

“Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?” “With great energy; but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic.” “You are severe on us.”

Help. A murder was committed.

Just wallow in that a bit, Mr. Darcy. Enjoy that wallow. Lizzy is now at +20 points total. Mr. Darcy has injured himself much more than I could possibly, so I feel no need to make deductions, and he stands at -15.

Oh, wow, Sir William Lucas, you dolt, don't... don't do that to them. AAHHH whyyy.

“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”

I love her? I love her very much? Another +5.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite?—and pray when am I to wish you joy?”

I feel as though the situation got out of hand VERY quickly. WTF just happened? Miss Bingley, calm your ass down!

~~~

Lizzy did very well for herself these two chapters. Mr. Darcy... not so much.

(Chapters 7 and 8)

[sleeplessadhara]

Zelda Tears of the Kingdom Spoilers (my thoughts)

Firstly, I'm so, so happy I was able to play this game without spoiling myself and I went full on blind. I think that made the whole experience more enjoyable and magical for me.

The first minutes of the game I was already hooked, and I wanted to know more, who were the Zonnai? What are they? Were they godly entities, product of Hylia? Were they equal to her?

And then Ganondorf appeared, in his skeletal glory. I wasn't expecting Link to literally lose his arm and to almost die, and It was so unexpected that Zelda went back to the past too.

Gameplay

Gameplay wise, the controls felt mostly like BOTW, although at first I found it kinda tricky remembering the ultrahand controls and stuff, but after a few hours of playing I got used to it.

The difficulty of the enemies isn't SUPER hard, but it took me a few hours to learn again how to fight them without dying constantly (i was very rusty).

Next, I like that like in BOTW, they give you freedom to explore the First Sky Island to find more context, and history behind the Zonnai and Rauru. It was heartwarming to see Rauru observing the golems on their daily jobs, and listen to him while he said how he cherished them, or felt bad for them.

It was as if the golems weren't just plain old useless NPC's, and they had actual depth. I love the golems fr.

I also wanted to add that despite the game letting you roam about at your will, it also gives you lots of clues and tips on where to go next. I never felt lost at all.

Graphics and Visuals

Like BOTW, Tears of The Kingdom is a beautiful game. The scenery, the ambient, the backgrounds, it felt like I was truly walking on a Kingdom that was being rebuilt. The sky islands felt heavenly, but at the same time as if they were once occupied by people. And the Abyss... just wow. I was scared the first time I went down there.

Sound and Music

I'm sorry folks, I'm going to rant so much.

The music used on this game, are so smartly and beautifully crafted, you can't even imagine. From moment 1, it helps you get into the game and story.

I just loved hearing the songs and then, unexpectedly... BOOM. I could hear fragments of songs from other Zelda games. I also love how the songs match perfectly every single place, boss, cutscene, etc.

Not only that, but I think one of my favorite songs was the one that plays when fighting against Colgera. I wasn't expecting such a beautiful and epic music at that moment, and the gasp I let out while I was fighting the thing almost made me die. (I love how the characters advise you to visit first Rito village. It surely was worth it, and it's a direct punch to your heart by nostalgia).

Another song I loved was Sidon's theme. To me, the song felt more soft compared with BOTW, but at the end, it peaks up amazingly. It gave me the vibes that tells the story of how Sidon lost some of his courage in fear of losing his people, and then he regains it when Yona gives him a speech to push him to do the right thing.

Lastly, another thing I loved was how they mixed some of the songs with the music that play when you are near one of the dragons??? In the final battle that killed me, it was amazing.

The Voice Acting was on point too, I loved Sonnia's voice from the very beginning, it was so soft and warm, but when it needed to be, she was sharp and- yeah.

Story and Narrative

I think the story of TOTK is satisfying. I loved how at first we have no clue of what is happening, and as we go collecting the pieces of the puzzle, we can make our own conclusions until the story is explained to us.

I wasn't expecting Zelda to become a dragon, at all.

When I first saw the Light Dragon, I thought it was an addition, maybe related to a side-quest or something. But wow. When the dots connected, pain.

I thought for real that we wouldn't be able to bring back Zelda to her original form, and I cried a lot when I finished the Tears of the Dragon quest. The cutscene was heartbreaking.

When the music stops, and then starts again super loud, with an orchestral/choral version of Zelda's Lullaby, it made me feel that was she doing was something that there was no turning back from. An act of a princess who wanted nothing else than to help her people, but at the same time, being afraid of losing herself to the Draconian power.

She legit felt as if she was in great pain, and the scream she let out when transforming into the Light Dragon... and when she flew to the clouds vanishing while the Sages watched from afar her sacrifice... I lost it.

Anyway, moving on.

I also loved traveling to the different regions, where lots of things changed, and the Newer Sages had also some personality growth through the story.

One thing that disappointed me was that they barely talked about the Four Champions of BOTW. (When I saw that they changed Mipha's statue, I got so mad. Until I saw they made a zone in her memory, then I calmed down).

But, what happened to the Divine Beasts? Did they disappear to thin air? Is there a side-quest that explains what happened to them?? I don't know.

It just felt as if they never existed at all.

Next, I wanted to talk about the Final Boss.

It was really an improvement from BOTW, it felt as if I was truly fighting SOMEONE, when Ganondorf dodged my sword I was surprised. (I think it's not the first time they do this, but anyways, it's a good touch).

It also caught me off guard when he transformed into a dragon too, but at that moment I realized that maybe Zelda could come and help us. Which she did, and I'm so glad it happened.

Maybe the Dragon Ganon was an easy fight, but I don't care, I enjoyed every second of it: Zelda picking me up before I fell to my death, her dodging Ganon's attacks... It just felt right.

One thing I am kinda disappointed about the ending, was that Zelda didn't become the Queen of Hyrule.

On the other hand, I also would have loved to see Zelda return to Hateno Village and reunite with her students.

The students of the school she founded loved Zelda so much. They even made drawings of her!! And she had them displayed on her house and studying room!!!

Conclusion

I loved this game so much, every moment of it felt magical. I fell in love with the new characters, they had so much personality! They felt alive.

I don't think I can stress this enough, but Tears of the Kingdom is a masterpiece to me. I wish I could erase my memories and play it again for the first time.

This is a long rant that I had to let out of my system, I apologize for that.

[tenaciouspostfun]

Storiestheater review

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In what is one of the best shows I have seen this season, "A Sign of The Times" at The New World Stages is a rapid fire, feel great musical! Set in Centerville, Ohio, the year is 1965 and on this New Years Eve Matt has asked Cindy to marry him. She questions her life, her parents life and where marriage will take her.

The premise here is that change and courage invites Cindy (Chilina Kennedy) to New York City to pursue her career. She ends up living with a budding singer named Tanya, (Crystal Lucas-Perry) on 149th street. It is rough going for the first three months until she is serendipitous in landing a job at Paulson & Co, an advertising company in which she aspires to be a photographer.

What makes this musical so great is the many reasons that make a wonderful musical. The first is the acting: Chilina Kennedy puts in a performance for the ages! Her facial features and the" business" that she gives us reminds me of Mary Tyler Moore, particularly on the Mary Tyler Moore show... corky and spunky, she suffers no fools and is mentally strong. She is also a talented singer and had full command of the audience whenever she belted out a song. Her grace and charm were matched by her dance prowess.

Lucas- Perry too was as brilliant in her acting as well as her singing; sometimes pop, sometimes soulful, her songs came from the heart and resonated throughout the theater. The two actors fed off of each other brilliantly all performance, we believed that they were great friends because their timing was flawless.

Under the glam lighting (Ken Billington), the warm set design (Evan Adamson), the brilliant projection (Brad Peterson) and the deft choreography (JoAnn M. Hunter), the musical moves in tandem, like silk and Gabriel Barre's direction has the show in top form. Under Joseph Church, the arrangements, the choice of each and every song , the placement of the songs hit the show perfectly.

In the turbulent times that faced America, the show touches on the vast protests that were hitting our country at the time: the Vietnam War, racial tension and equality for women, however, the show thankfully only scratches at it and never makes it the main focus. Richard J. Robin, Lindsey Hope Pearlman and music director Britt Bonney keep the show lite and pure making the two plus hours joyful. Even before the start of the show we are treated to old commercials from that era as well as some of the shows that were on television at that time.

"A Sign of The Times" was well thought out, well created. From the casting to the costumes (Joanna Pan), everything works beautifully. Pan takes us back in time from the chiffon dresses, to the short skirts and go-go boots we get a sense and a feel of 1965. In the book we see what the thinking of the people was back then, what was acceptable and what was not in both mores and attitude. Ryan Silverman as Brian had the opinion that it is a man's world, woman were in the background and never given the credit for anything in the work place. How he conducted himself is quite different way than what would be accepted today in the business world.

In the songs and dance we see the many popular dance styles of the mid 60's. In "These Boots Are Made For Walkin" we get a dance that "Austin Powers" made popular with the hips swinging and the arms flailing. In "Call Me" we get a Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds "Singing In The Rain" type dance movement.

"A Sign of The Times" should not be missed! I cannot say enough good things about this brilliant musical; the attention to every song choice will have you singing the songs leaving the theater as I did.

Broadway Bob, www.vocal.com, Medium, www.nimbusmagazine.org, www.broadwayworld.com, www.triviscompany.com, Tony Awards, Broadway, Obie Awards, A Sign of The Times, Rock and Roll Man, Aladdin, The Lion King, Harry Potter, Neil Diamond, Tommy.

Words: 683

[evco-productions]

The Best Sequel of All Time Is Actually...

We all know the usual contestants for the title of Best Sequel of All Time. The Empire Strikes Back, The Godfather Part II, Terminator 2, The Dark Knight, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, The Bride of Frankenstein, Toy Story 2, Aliens, Spider-Man 2, Dawn of the Dead, Wrath of Khan, and so on, and so on, and so on.

But the truth is, it’s none of those movies. The best sequel of all time is actually…

…insert drum roll…

…Wayne’s World 2.

Okay, in all seriousness, I don’t believe in the word “best” because it is impossible to objectively determine anything when it comes to deciding the quality of movies and the word “best” implies objectivity. I much prefer to use the word “favorite.” Wayne’s World 2 is possibly my favorite sequel of all time. I think it’s just as good as the original. Probably not better, but definitely even with it, which I like because then we don’t have to debate whether the first or second movie is better like we do with Star Wars and Terminator.

Here's a few things Wayne’s World 2 does that I really like to see in a sequel, especially a sequel to a goofy comedy.

For one, the romance from the first movie isn’t ignored or tossed away. Have you ever noticed how many sequels actually do this? The first movie will dedicate the majority of its runtime to a romance that is then rendered pointless by the sequel (or sequels). Often it is because the actor who played opposite the main character is not asked back for the sequel or their schedule doesn’t allow them time to film anything but a short breakup sequence to be shoved into the sequel’s opening exposition, or maybe the writers just don’t have the imagination to develop that love interest character any further and so they write them out.

Movies of all genres and varying quality can be faulted for this: the James Bond series, the original Indiana Jones trilogy, Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2. Why should we care about the love story in one movie if the next movie is just going to be a different love story?

Wayne’s World 2 doesn’t do that even though it’s exactly the kind of movie that could have easily gotten away with it. There’s a longtime trend in comedy that forces exceptionally attractive female characters into relationships with slacker men who are mostly if not entirely unappealing, and while someone like Tia Carrere is definitely out of Mike Myers’s league, the whole situation would be made much worse if, in the sequel, Wayne and Cassandra had split up only for Wayne to stumble into a new relationship with another equally attractive woman, which of course he would have.

Another great strength of Wayne’s World 2 is its handling of supporting characters and cameos, which the first movie definitely had but the sequel builds upon. A lot of my favorite moments in this movie are not coming from Wayne or Garth but from the other characters. The British roadie Del Preston is a hilarious character with a great monologue I quote constantly. Chris Farley, Kevin Pollak, James Hong, Kim Basinger, they’re all good in this movie. They don’t phone in their performances even though, again, this is exactly the kind of movie where they could get away with doing that.

But the most interesting appearance here is Christopher Walken. Walken is an acting legend—watch his scene with Dennis Hopper in True Romance if you’re not convinced of that—and he treats his role as Bobby the sleazy record producer as seriously as I’ve seen him treat any other role. Not only that, but as strong as his presence in this movie is, he seems to have known just where to stop so that Mike Myers and Dana Carvey are still allowed to be the stars. He doesn’t overshadow them in their scenes together. I don’t know if that’s all on Walken, or on the director, or if Myers and Carvey are more talented actors than I understand and were able to match Walken’s presence with their own… Whatever the reason, it works beautifully, and I think Bobby makes for a better antagonist than Rob Lowe’s Benjamin from the first movie.

But I think that Wayne’s World 2’s greatest strength is its flow. Back when it was a regular skit on Saturday Night Live, Wayne’s World only needed to entertain you for several minutes at a time. The skits in most individual SNL episodes never relate to each other, so there was no need to worry about continuity or flow because there was only going to be one Wayne’s World “scene” per episode. That concern only arrived when it was decided to make Wayne’s World into a movie, and then another movie after that. Suddenly, the writers had to worry about making this into something more than a bunch of individual gags shoved together until they had enough to equal the length of a feature film. They needed to ensure that they had a story and characters which would accommodate those individual gags while also maintaining a solid flow throughout the movie. I think both Wayne’s World movies pull this off, but for some reason Wayne’s World 2 stands out especially well to my eyes. It reminds me of Monty Python at their best (The Holy Grail and Life of Brian). Each new scene is able to present a unique joke or banter without ever feeling forced. The plot is always moving forward in Wayne’s World 2, even if you don’t realize it. Also, very few of the jokes are recycled, but when they are (sometimes from an earlier scene and sometimes from the earlier movie), there’s always a slightly different spin on it, which means that the comedy isn’t weakened by the repetition but actually strengthened by it.

So there you have it, three major reasons why I think we ought to rank Wayne’s World 2 much higher in the realm of movie sequels. It’s a ton of fun, it’s very quotable and very rewatchable, and obviously, I rate it a “W” and if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it.

[hcavenlybodies]

⟨ ellise chappell. cis woman. she/her. twenty-six. ⟩ we welcome sesa stark to winterfell , the princess of winterfell. keep an eye out for their naive nature, they tend to cover it up by acting creative. rumor has it they are neutral towards the peace treaty, and their loyalties lie with house stark / targaryen. you’ll know it’s them when you get flashes of a plainly cladded woman standing amongst deers in wolfswood who all get alerted of a new presence, paintings and songs of a world long lost, red-shaded cheeks of embarrassment far too easily attained.

many say the two stark wives had always been in competition, always wanting to be the first at something. yet, it seemed when it came to daughters, they both were equally matched. with the birth of sesa came the idea and expectations that she could one day raise herself to greater heights than her stark cousins. yet, she was sorely mistaken. though, was it truly that bad? as it seemed she would birth a child who’s entire energy was ethereal in itself, angelic. she barely even cried as a child, a true dream for any mother.

she sat through every lesson, listened to everything her mother had told her to do. yet, many could almost hear the way the words seemed to float in the air for her. she had no true care for the concept of being royalty, or nobility for that matter. she was simply a lady who would find herself far too enchanted by her surroundings. everything in her visions seemed to be tinted rose as she would walk around the forests barefoot and trace every tree’s crevices as if they told a story. she would find herself among congregations of animals on a regular basis, as if they were summoned by her mere presence. her smile and soft melodic voice could be heard singing of tales and promises of old, poetry that only made sense when one listened from the beginning. 

many would alike her to a creature of the forest. not so much a goddess, but a nymph. if you were ever so lucky to gaze upon the innocence that would be among the ashtrees of wolfswood, one would surely feel as though they have entered an entirely new realm. it was this reputation that remained and persisted through her years. it was this embodiment of many visitors’ first impressions of the north that made her a jewel to be possessed. yet none were able to grasp her. she was simply far too gone in her own world for one to attempt to capture said attention. 

her visitations to white harbor were frequent as she loved and adored reila. often times she would remind her just how beautifully unnecessary they were to the ploys of politics and she adored it. the sea had become a friend just as the forests had, and soon she was saddened by the idea of reila leaving for the south. it was in this that she begged and proposed an idea to her uncle stark and to reila to allow her to travel with her. if only to be a reminder of home, to be a protector against the south, to ensure a constant reminder that their northern gem was never alone. after much persistence, her request was granted and she became a travelling companion to reila. 

her presence is something quite uncommon in the south, and many tend to stray away from her as they believe her to be slightly too ethereal for their liking. while she was never taught to fight as she hated the idea of wielding a sword, she is not one to sit back if provoked. one could say that her best weapon is her surroundings, as she can get rather creative in desperate times. 

other than that, many can find her among any sort of nature, among the bards and musicians, her nose in a blank book that possesses her sketching and writings of her mind. in another life, she would have been an artist, commissioned by many for the way she can someone capture the spirit of the environment around her. she might still be it, if only she weren’t too entranced by the world to care for money in such a way. 

[livingforthewhump]

Follow-up to this drabble

—

It had been a week since they’d gotten out. Whumpee was curled into a ball, on the floor beside their bed. Their room alone didn’t feel hidden enough anymore. They couldn’t seem to convince themselves that they were safe now. Whumper couldn’t walk through the door, but… any of their team still could.

They dreaded being the focus of their attention, their questions. They craved it.

Sobs caught in their throat, tears tracing patterns down their cheeks. They muffled the sound into their arms, curling tighter into themselves and praying they wouldn’t be heard. They hadn’t been before.

Darkness seemed to overtake them again. They could still feel Whumper’s hands, hear the horrible glee in their voice, see their smile, and still their back was burning and burning and burning with the mark Whumper put there. The burning of it seemed to consume time itself, turning minutes and seconds and hours to ash, and eventually the darkness around them sprawled into sleep.

Teammate lingered outside of Whumpee’s door, hand hovering over the doorknob. Whumpee was usually reclusive, but this… this was worrying them. They couldn’t get the image of Whumpee shaking with fear out of their head, or the brittle look they had to them every time Whumper would carry them back to the rest of the team. Whumpee had refused to talk about what happened, and Teammate’s heart broke at the thought of them dealing with whatever Whumper had done alone.

But ever since getting back, Whumpee’s door was always locked. An impenetrable barrier between them and the soft sobs they knew Whumpee tried to smother until they exhausted themselves to the point of falling asleep. Whumpee hadn’t let them search them for injuries. Teammate thought the least they could do was stay by Whumpee’s door, so at least they wouldn’t be alone.

They were interrupted from their thoughts by weak screams coming through the door, interlaced with choked, desperate sobs.

Teammate wrenched at the doorknob before remembering it was locked, calling Whumpee’s name. They muttered a curse when there was no response save for the screams subsiding to loud crying. Teammate slammed their shoulder against the door until it crashed inwards, making Whumpee yelp. They grimaced at the pang of guilt it sent through them as they raced around the bed then froze at the sight that met them.

Whumpee was curled on the floor, shaking with sobs and fear and who knows what else. Their hands scratched and pulled at a spot on their back that they couldn’t quite seem to reach. Broken words fell from their lips between their sobs, but they made out “please please stop, it hurts, it hurts, pl-ple-ease”.

Teammate took a breath and stepped closer, trying to ignore how Whumpee flinched away. Whumpee was lost in memory, and the idea of them seeing Whumper in place of them made Teammate feel sick.

“Whumpee,” they breathed, carefully pulling Whumpee’s hands away from their back. They cupped Whumpee’s tear-slicked face in their hands and set one of Whumpee’s hands at their collarbone. “You’re okay now, Whumpee. You’re safe. Can you match my breaths, please?”

Whumpee’s eyes were clouded with incoherency as they breathed in time with Teammate. Their breaths were stuttered and choked at first, but slowly evened out. Finally, Whumpee’s eyelashes fluttered, and they seemed to see Teammate in front of them for the first time.

Whumpee gasped and pulled away. “Te-Teammate, what, what are you, um-“

Teammate’s hands fell to their side, though they stayed crouched in front of them. “You were having a nightmare. I think. I heard you screaming, and you were acting like your back’s hurt.”

Whumpee looked like a deer in the headlights. “You… you didn’t look, did you?”

Teammate swore they could hear their heart shatter. “No, I didn’t. But, if you’re hurt, I can help you. You don’t have to keep doing this alone, Whumpee.”

“No no no no, I wanted it where no one would see-“ They cut off with a sob, looking so small and fragile that Teammate wanted nothing more than to protect them from this cruel world.

They reached out and took Whumpee’s hand. Whumpee looked too surprised to pull back, and after a moment, held on tightly.

“I’m scared, Teammate,” they breathed.

“I know. And that’s okay. I want to help you.” They hesitated. “You don’t have to tell me or show me anything you don’t want to, but if I know what it is that’s hurting you, I can help. And the rest of the team doesn’t have to know if you don’t want them to, either. Or, if you’d rather have someone else help…”

“No, I,” Whumpee took a shaky breath. “I want to show you. But no, no one else.”

“Okay. Thank you. Is it on your back?”

Whumpee nodded wordlessly, and Teammate moved behind them.

“I’m going to lift your shirt so I can see, okay?”

Another nod.

Teammate took a deep breath that Whumpee copied as they pulled the fabric up, revealing Whumpee’s pale back that was littered with raised, pink scratches. Teammate had the horrible sensation they came from Whumpee’s own hands. Then, between their shoulder blades-

They sucked a breath through their teeth. Their vision blurred with tears, but the words branded into Whumpee’s skin burned with equal ferocity into their mind.

‘Property Of Whumper’- the words were angry and red and sweltering. Whumpee’s earlier words caught like thorns in their heart: “I wanted it where no one would see.”

They were going to kill that waste of life who did this to Whumpee. They didn’t even want to think about what they’d said to them.

“I can go get you some medicine and burn cream,” Teammate said, trying to keep their voice calm. “Bandages too. And some water- you’re probably dehydrated.”

“Wait,” Whumpee caught their arm and pulled them back. “Don’t leave yet. Please?”

Teammate nodded, the pieces of their heart being ground to dust at the helplessness on Whumpee’s face.

“I’ll stay as long as you want.” They knelt back down, and Whumpee leaned slowly against them. There was a small silence before Teammate found the courage to speak. “You know it’s not true, right?”

Whumpee hesitated a bit too long before saying “mhm.”

“No- Whumpee, I want you to believe me. It’s not true, and I am going to make Whumper pay for ever telling you it is. Okay?”

The smallest of smiles ghosted Whumpee’s face. “Okay.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @susanshinning @multifandoms-multishipper @shadowylemon @cherryblossomskye @utopian819 @whumpkitty @journey-the-panda @freefallingup13 @shameful-indulgence @1becky1 @temporary-whump-sideblog @chartreusephoenix @thelazywitchphotographer @mylifeisonthebookshelf (also tagging @just-some-writing-from-neptune @crimson-wrld @hurting-fictional-people and @break-so-beautifully bc y’all were interested in part 2)

[pascalpanic]

Spitfire (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: You’re working on a case file in your apartment with Javier. It’s late. He tells you that you need to relax, and you say no, but then he offers to help you calm down. Warnings: 18+, smut, and it’s graphic smut. cursing too. Javier Peña comes with his own warning. brief mentions of alcohol/alcoholism and of period-typical misogyny. oral sex (f and m receiving), p in v sex. WC: 4.4k A/N: Lol my longest one yet and it’s smut. Well, I’ve been being hounded to post my first smut fic, and who better than with the devil himself, Javi? I saw this masterlist of smut prompts (written by @prolixitae) and had a friend choose two for me, so this one is going to include those, including “you’re being so good for me, I knew you could take it all” and “answer the phone, I dare you.” Welp, here we go!

Rarely did women catch his eye the way you did. He’d admire their asses in their skirts, their breasts and the way they’d cause their buttons to tug at the matching hole on their blouses. Javier was discreet about it, but it was always what he noticed first. With you, it was surprising, and it almost made him give a chuckle when he’d think about it. You were wonderfully built, of course, and he definitely came to adore that, but he always rested his eyes on your face. You had the most wonderful eyes he’d ever seen, he thought, not just from the stunning color but from the way they held every ounce of your personality in them. They always betrayed just what you were feeling: your rage at him, which was often, or your adoration of a child or a dog on the street, your intensity as you scanned the paper on the desk in front of you.

Not only did your eyes astound Javier, but your lips captivated him. You frequently wore different shades of lipstick, and every one looked more delectable than the last to him, who wanted nothing more than to kiss you so hard it came off all over his face, or to have smears of it left on his chest or his hips. They looked incredibly soft, gentle yet strong, and the words that flew out of them, often without a thought, made his own tug up in the corner of his face and expose that dimple. He’d even seen you without makeup a few times, after a particularly long stakeout or a hard night of partying. He found them just as beautiful when they were their natural color, just as attractive and luscious.

The rest of your face made him smile just to think about; it was the very essence of you, of course it brought a grin to his normally stoic face. Your eyebrows and cheekbones perfectly framed those beautiful eyes, your nose quirked adorably when you were either full of rage or joy. Your cheeks moved with your lips or nose, and he wanted to kiss every little line or fold on that beautiful skin of yours, loving the way the tone looked against the equally stunning clothes you wore.

Over time, his appreciation of the rest of your body grew too. The pencil skirts you wore complimented your stunning ass, and the clacking of the heels you paired them with made him weak at the knees when he knew the noise was you walking his way. On stakeouts, in civilian clothes, even the comfortable things you wore were stunning. The curve of your chest beneath a t-shirt, the way your jeans were ripped and exposing the skin of your legs beneath them. The littlest things about you were beautiful to him, but God if they weren’t becoming a distraction.

It’s 01:00, as Javier likes to call it, as the two of you face each other with a look of frustration on each face. You sit in your apartment, the one just above his, him on your couch and you on the floor. “Fuck,” you practically shout and toss the papers down onto the coffee table between you. “How can there be this little evidence of a man who’s fucking everywhere? He runs the entire fucking country like a puppet on a string, and we can’t find a shred of evidence that’s enough to get a goddamn warrant.” Your rage was apparent on your face, causing you to clench your fist around your empty can of soda until it’s a ball of crumpled aluminum. You look up at Javi, practically steaming out of your ears. “How the hell do you do this job?” You ask, breathing heavy from your momentary rage.

I stare at your tits until I’m feeling something else, Peña thinks to himself. He knows he can’t say that, so he takes a second and just sighs, shaking his head. “I leave it at the office,” he chides, leaning forward and tossing a folder onto the table. You had been working on this case alone all night, scanning through paperwork. Hearing you pace around your apartment that sat directly above his, an equally awake Javier had come up to your apartment and knocked, offering his assistance. He and his partner Steve, who lived next door to you with his wife Connie, had been working on another aspect of the Escobar case. You and yours, Rick Harrigan, had been focused on getting something to use as a warrant to invade his home. Unfortunately, your partner was an incompetent alcoholic who was about as much use to you as Escobar himself.

“Easy for you to say,” you shake your head. “I personally call it giving a shit, Javi,” you say sharply. “When you’re not as respected as a man in this field, you have to work twice as hard. And when your partner is too drunk to show up and not get himself killed, twice as hard as that.” You angrily staple two papers together, using the hit to the appliance as a release of your rage.

“Woah there, bonita,” Javier says as he watches, earning an angry glare from you that eases when his eyes meet yours. You sigh and lean back against the wall, running a hand over your hair, loosening from the ponytail it’s tied in. “You need to relax somehow. It’s one in the morning now, did you notice that?” he asks teasingly, chuckling as your eyes fly open. “Guess you didn’t. Get some sleep,” he tells you and crosses his legs, leaning back on the couch.

You sigh again and untie your ponytail, shaking out your hair. “I’m sorry, Javi. I should. I probably woke you too, with my pacing, and I’ll be lucky if I didn’t wake Steve and Connie too.” You groan and look up at him, finding his eyes trained on you. “What?” you ask curiously.

Javier had been staring at how beautifully messy you looked, how your hair was a mess and your makeup was smudged, barely clinging to your face. You looked absolutely wrecked, and it was far more attractive to him than it should’ve been. It almost looked like you had just rolled out of bed with someone, and the look moved his blood somewhere in his body lower than it needed to be. “Nothing,” he says with a gulp and you quirk an eyebrow.

You’d clearly be lying if you didn’t find yourself attracted to the man in front of you. He was an equal to you in the office, but he liked to act like your superior. Naturally, with your temper, you refused to let that happen, leading to some tension between the two of you. The tension, however, wasn’t necessarily the bad kind. If you had less cowardice, you’d ask him out. You know he’d say yes. Javier has a reputation for never turning down a date with a willing woman.

That’s the thing though. It would be labeled a date at first, but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. You could, and admittedly did, picture what would happen: you’d show up in some sexy little dress, Javier wearing a tight shirt, one open button short of professional, and equally tight jeans that highlight his ass. You’d each get in a drink and a half and the next morning you’d wake in your own bed, a delicious ache between your legs and no Javier to be seen.

Clearing that thought from your head, you tie your hair into a ponytail once more and pick up another paper from the desk. “I’m… we’re gonna get murdered if I don’t get this done by Friday morning. God knows Rick won’t be working on it,” you sigh and shake your head, scanning the paper.

“Your head is going to pop if you keep shoving shit in there,” he teases you, nudging you with his leg under the coffee table. “Get some rest.”

You gulp, biting down on your lip. He’s going to keep telling you that, but you can’t do it. It’s too much work, and your fear of failure is greater than your need for sleep. The emotions build inside, mostly frustration: at Javi telling you to rest, at your incompetent partner, at yourself. “I’ve told you this, Javi, I have to keep working. I can sleep later.”

“Do you want me to go beat the shit out of Harrigan for you? I’m not above that,” he offers, his tone clearly teasing.

You chuckle a little and look at him, tears welling in your eyes. “You’re too kind,” you say, voice thick with emotion before you turn back to the paper, “but that wouldn’t change anything except make your life harder and him drink more to cope with the injury.” As you finish talking, your words rise in pitch until the tears fall from your face.

“Hey, hey,” Javier says quickly, getting on his knees on the other side of the coffee table, one hand reaching out to the side of your face. “Don’t cry, cariña,” he says softly, wiping the tears from one eye with his thumb. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re a much better agent than you’re giving yourself credit for, and getting Escobar is like catching a greased pig,” his native Texan adages coming out. You giggle a little at that and he smiles softly. “Let me help you. We’ll go talk to the ambassador about Harrigan together, and I’ll help you search all of this.”

“Javi, you have all of your assigned work, and like you said, it’s one in the morning, you need to sleep-”

“No, you need sleep. I run on cigarettes and rage alone,” he says, earning another soft chuckle from you. “We’ll search this for another hour, see if there’s anything we can use, and if it doesn’t pan out we’ll both go to bed and start this again in the morning.”

You nod softly, leaning into his hand. “You’re much nicer late at night, Peña,” you tease him, causing him to drop the smile, the stoic look returning to his face only accentuated by the growing shadow of stubble on his skin.

Javi chuckles a little. “You’re the only one who’s ever been brave enough to tease me,” he admits, a thick eyebrow slightly raising as he grabs another file from the table and opens it, starting to comb through it. “You’re una volcán,” he chuckles and takes a sip of the glass of whiskey sitting on the table. You look at him questioningly. “A spitfire.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s called being a woman and having had enough,” you tease back at him drily. “Though I suppose I do have plenty of balls to go around. More than any of the men in our department.”

Shaking his head, Javi leaves it there, though he desperately wants to flirt back. You want to leave it there too, but you can’t. Something in you has to get the last word with him, has to get him fired up enough to retort, maybe to do something he shouldn’t to you. “Sometimes I think I’m the only one around here who can’t just go get fucked and forget about the job.”

“Who says I get fucked?” He asks flirtatiously as he takes another sip from his whiskey, and a small smirk falls across your face.

“If it’s about forgetting about something, you need to be the one receiving,” you flirt, daring to get on your knees and lean across the table, trying to get as close to his face as you can to say the words.

Javier reciprocates the movement, taking this as a challenge. “Is that an offer or a request?” He teases back, leaning forward until you can feel his hot breath on your face.

“I’ll let you decide that,” you chuckle quietly and close the distance between the two of you, your lips crashing together. It’s hot and desperate and needy for a moment, nearly moaning into the kiss but stopping yourself. It continues, sloppy and heated and needy. “You’re the one who was in tears earlier,” Javi murmurs between kisses. “I think that means that you’re the one in need of some forgetting.”

“I think that sounds wonderful,” you sigh as his lips move to your jaw. Javi breaks away from you, standing for a moment before situating himself on the couch. He lies back, head on a pillow, unbuttoning his shirt a little. He smirks as he watches you noticing. “Well? You gonna come sit on my face or what?” He asks with a similar smirk, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and letting his shirt fall open but rest on his shoulders.

Your mouth nearly drops open. Nothing in you ever questioned that Javier would be an extremely generous lover; even rumors around the office indicated that. No, you just didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. It makes your blood run cold for a moment. You nod and stand, shimmying the leggings down your legs and kicking them aside. So caught up in your lust, you try to walk forward but your shin finds the coffee table. “Fuck,” you yelp, now kicking the coffee table to shove it out of your path to the man looking at you like he’s starving and there’s a four-course meal between your legs. It drags and screeches across the floor, making a loud noise and you wince. It wobbles and thunks, making more noise than anything should be at what’s now approximately 1:40 A.M..

“Hey, take your anger out here instead,” Javi flirts, scooting further from the back of the couch so you can get properly on him. Once you finally reach his side, he pulls your shirt up frantically as high as he can before you have to do the rest. You pull it off to reveal a generic black bra, but it makes the rising tent in Javier’s jeans grow. “Oh fuck, look at you cariño,” he murmurs, hands gliding up your sides. You pull off your panties and finally straddle him, grinding your hips into his and earning an absolutely sinful groan from him. “No, not now. Get up here,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and scooting you up his body until you’re seated on his face.

You lean forward, a hand on the arm of the couch for balance, and Javier nearly dies from the sight above him. He licks a tentative stripe up your folds and you moan helplessly, your head falling back. “Javi,” you whisper, and then again when he brings up his fingers to toy at your entrance. “Jesus Christ,” you shudder as his mouth finds your clit, swishing it with his tongue and lapping at it.

A hand finds his hair and you curl your fingers in it tight as he slips his fingers into you. Two digits immediately begin exploring inside of you and you whimper before you can stop yourself. His lips circle your clit as his tongue plays with it, desperately eating you out. It feels amazing, and his name escapes your lips again and again. You cry out his name softly, already sweating and flushed from the pleasure, before you notice it:

Brrrrrring. Brrrrrring.

It’s the phone. “Who the fuck is calling now?” you whine, annoyed at the fact that it’s while Javier’s face is buried in your pussy more so than the fact that it’s in the dead of the night. You ignore it for a few moments more, whimpering at the way Javier’s tongue works against you. He stops and moves you slightly.

“Answer the phone, I dare you,” he murmurs, a fire in his eyes before that smart mouth returns to his task at hand.

“Fuck, I can’t, I’m gonna sound terrible,” you manage out through moans and soft whimpers. Javier makes a noise into you, indicating that you’d better. “Fucker. Be nice to me,” you whisper to him before you answer. “Hello?”

“Sweetie, is everything okay?” you hear Connie’s voice, whispering yet frantic, on the other end.

“Yeah, just fine,” you say, panting from the feeling of Javi beneath you.

“Are you sure? What the hell happened? Steve was going to go check on you but I made sure he didn’t, he wants to make sure you’re okay too,” she starts rambling, clearly cupping her hand over the microphone so the whisper can’t escape it.

What a sight that would be: Steve opening the door to find his partner eating out their coworker. You almost moan at that but hold back, biting on your lip as she speaks and trying to compose yourself for your turn. “Ye-ah,” you say, a moan slipping out as Javi’s teeth brush your clit. “I stubbed my toe and kicked the coffee table,” you admit, and it’s truthful. That earns Javi a little extra tug on the hair, and he seems to take that as motivation to be even worse.

“You’re sure everything is fine over there?” She asks.

“Great, yeah. Go back to bed, Connie,” you say, still panting helplessly.

“If you’re dead in the morning, you can’t blame me,” she teases and hangs up.

“Fuck you, Javi,” you laugh breathlessly when the line clicks dead. “What the fuck?”

“Hopefully you will,” he murmurs into you, and your anger is immediately resolved as the motion of his fingers and tongue matches perfectly.

You cry out at the mixture before you can stop yourself. “Oh fuck, Javi, I’m really close,” you mutter, your hips canting back against the rhythm he sets. He gives a little noise, and you assume that’s him giving it the okay. He keeps going and going in just the right way until it’s too much and not enough at the same time and- “Javier,” you wail helplessly, your orgasm rushing over you.

He works you through it, moaning into you as you shudder and whine atop of him. He pushes you down to straddle his torso when you’re done. He smirks up at you, perfectly content with himself. “Bastard,” you murmur and shake your head before kissing him again, moaning as you can taste yourself on his tongue. It continues like that for a moment before you pull away, the noise from the wetness of the kiss absolutely obscene. “Here’s the plan. We’re gonna go to my bedroom and I’m gonna blow you, then you’re gonna fuck me so hard I can’t remember what the name Escobar means.”

The lust in his eyes is practically turning his irises black. “Yes ma’am,” he smirks and kisses you again, sitting up to do so and resting his hands on the sides of your face. You stand and beckon him, turning and walking towards your bedroom, wearing nothing but the black bra you’d neglected to take off earlier.

As he enters, he undoes his belt, tossing it aside, smirking at the image of you sitting on the edge of your bed. “Take off the bra,” he orders and you get ready to do so, giving him a little show before moving your hands to the clasp. “On one condition.”

“You fucking name it and I’ll do it, cariño.”

“When I wake up in the morning, you’ll be next to me.” He pauses for a moment, halfway through unzipping his pants. He looks up at you, eyes unreadable. “You don’t have to be sweet to me, hell, you can destroy me, but you’re staying the night.”

Javi pauses for a second more before the smirk grows. “Deal.” He stands in front of you and shucks his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers, which you quickly pull down. Your eyes bulge as you finally get the chance to see him; he’s massive. This is going to be… interesting, to say the least. A smirk finds your face and you take him in your hand, stroking him softly. “Where do you want me, bonita?” He asks breathily, his head falling back. You stand and push him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you just were, before falling to your knees and spreading his legs.

As you take him in your hand to slowly stroke him, Javier chuckles softly. “You can’t do this for long. I already feel like I’m gonna cum,” he murmurs, his fingertips tracing the side of your face until they reach your chin. You take him in your mouth, just the tip, and already feel overwhelmed. He’s massive, even just the tip is, filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue before pulling off, pressing kisses to the side of his shaft. He watches in awe, panting and sweating, before a moan falls from his lips. “Oh, fuck,” he mumbles, hand resting on your chin.

You take him in your mouth and start bobbing on him, never quite reaching the base but desperate to do so. He shudders. “Think you can take all of me, baby, huh?” he asks, earning a little whimper from you. “You can do it, I think. That big mouth, always sassing me, now you’re using it for this.”

On the next bob, you take all of him, his tip hitting the back of your throat. It makes you gag slightly, but it’s still deeply erotic, making the feeling in your body warm you up even more. “Fuck, my little spitfire, you’re being so good for me. I knew you could take it all.” You whimper around him and come back up, and he pulls you off of him. “No more or I’ll cum down your throat,” he chuckles. “Where are the condoms?”

You stand hurriedly and head to the nightstand, grabbing a condom from the drawer. “I want you however you’ll take me,” you tell him as you unwrap the condom, getting on your knees again to roll it down over him, tossing the wrapper carelessly to the side.

“Just missionary for now. For our first time,” he smirks, tipping your chin up so he can kiss you. You taste so perfect, he thinks, he could probably shoot his load just from kissing you. But not now, not when he has a plan.

You smirk a little at that. First time. Insinuating there will be more to come. You get up from your knees and climb onto the bed, lying down with your head in the pillows. Javier climbs over you, leaning down and kissing you softly. “How hard do you want me?” he asks.

“You decide. You’re the one who’s in charge, remember?” You ask flirtatiously, reaching down to stroke him slowly as you spread your legs wider.

He chuckles darkly and kisses you again, lining himself up with you. His eyes open quickly and he brings his face back, nonverbally asking. You give him a little smirk, nodding softly, and he kisses you again as he pushes into you. You cry out into his lips. He’s so big, you knew that from going down on him, but it’s a delicious stretch. He waits only a moment before pulling out and thrusting back in again, making you whimper his name.

“Javi,” you whine again and again, wrapping your leg around his waist. From the first thrust, he presses against that perfect little spot inside you, making you wetter and wetter with every thrust. “Oh god, harder, harder, just fucking wreck me,” you whine, spreading your free leg as wide as you can.

He brings one hand down to circle your clit, and it makes you squeal helplessly, the way he rubs it just in time with the harsh thrusts inside of you. It all feels so good, all of it, his lips working his way across your neck and working a mark behind your ear.

His thrusts are hard, both for you and for him, and he starts murmuring dirty little words into your ear, biting down on his lip as he thrusts. “So good for me, cariño,” he murmurs before sucking on your earlobe, quickening his tempo. “So tight around me. Never felt anything like you.”

Unable to formulate any words other than his name, you cry it out again. “Fuck, fuck Javi,” you groan, your hands dragging down his back, leaving marks with your nails.

“Such a dirty mouth,” he smirks for a moment before crying out at the feeling of your nails. “Oh, fuck, honey. You gonna cum for me?” he asks, earning a frantic nod for you. “You wanna hold back? We can cum together,” he murmurs, and that receives another nod. “Oh, good girl,” he murmurs, the noises you make going straight to his dick.

Biting down on your lip, you sigh. “I’m holding back, so you better be damn close,” you moan into his ear, working back against him.

He nods. “Okay, okay, come on baby. Come with me, 3, 2, 1….” he counts down and you clench tight around him as your second orgasm rips through your body, making you pulse and flutter around him. The feeling is so perfect, so intense that Javier can’t wait any longer and finally cums into the condom, thrusting harder and harder into you. “Feels so good when you cum,” he whispers to you, voice ragged and breath hot on your skin.

Javier keeps thrusting until the both of you are done, and he finally pulls out and flops down next to you on your mattress. He sits up, removing the condom and putting it in the trashcan by your bed before lying down again and pulling you to him. You rest your head on his sweaty chest and he wraps an arm around you, kissing your head. “Goddamn, honey,” he chuckles, using all of the air in his lungs to make the sound of content. You laugh too, snuggling in closer. “You’re gonna have to let me cum down that pretty little throat sometime soon,” he teases. “Because that’s all I’m gonna be thinking about until it happens.”

You chuckle at that, shaking your head. Suddenly, you freeze as your conscience comes back to you. “Fuck, those files,” you say, a hint of panic in your voice, trying to bolt upright.

Javi hushes you, pulling you back to his chest. “Forget about those files. You need sleep. You’re gonna sleep right here, and we’ll deal with it in the morning. I’ll make an appointment with the ambassador and he’ll send Harrigan’s ass back on the next flight to D.C.”

His words soothe you easily, but you’re still on edge. “No, Javi, I gotta-”

“Didn’t you make me promise I’d be here in the morning? That won’t happen if you don’t fall asleep,” he teases you and cuddles you into his chest. “Forget it, spitfire,” he tells you, and this time, you listen, letting your eyes fall shut as you listen to Javier’s slowing heartbeat, your ear pressed to his chest.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Enamored

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: The day Ron tells you he loves you.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: loss of a home, Fred is alive, mild angst, fluff, requited love, kissing

A/N: This fic is inspired by Pretty Boy by The Neighbourhood!

The last traces of summer had rapidly faded as the season changed to autumn, the once warm weather now chilled and brisk. It had been a whirlwind of a year thus far, one that was exceedingly more undesirable than most with the war having transpired. It brought with it a myriad of losses and misfortune for all that had been involved to fight against the Dark Lord.

The most noticeable loss for the Weasley family was the destruction of their family home. It was near ash and ruins but a few months ago, devastating and left in tatters as it no longer stood tall lopsidedly wonderful. While it was life altering and an act of complete and utter cruelty, they remained grateful that each and every member of their tight knit family remained alive and well. That’s what always mattered most to them, what will always matter.

Now that fall has rolled around after three months of hard work and effort put in from you and the beloved family, the Burrow was officially rebuilt. It didn’t house the same memories as it once had, it couldn’t have, but it stood tall and beautifully imperfect once more. It was a home that could only possibly be held up by magic otherwise it just might topple over with the number of floors it had. The pots and pans had scrubbed themselves once more, the chimney puffed out smoke yet again, the home was now bustling with a familiar boisterous energy once again in a way only they could manage to create.

Spending that time with them was time you were grateful to have, though you found yourself to be with Ron more so than anyone else. No matter what the instance may have been, you always seem to seek each other out as if it were a subconscious act. It was a wordless fact seemingly known to just about everyone but the very two people who’d been doing it, but that didn’t come as a surprise to anyone at all.

It’d been three years in the making of watching their lovestruck brother and equally lovestruck best friend pine for each other, of watching you both be so oblivious it was almost painful. Three years of catching him gaze at you with the softest of smiles when you weren’t looking, one so adoring Molly nearly cries every time, and of you doing just the same when his attentions were focused elsewhere. Three years of watching you two brush hands when you walk side by side followed by the promise of blushing cheeks when you realized the electrifying encounter. It had been frustrating years in the making of watching two people they loved so dearly be so blissfully unaware of just how in love they truly were with each other.

They were ready to take matters into their own hands and make it known themselves.

Currently, Mrs. Weasley has assigned both you and Ron the task of stopping by the bakery in town. She’d wanted an assortment of pastries as a part of a way to celebrate the finishing of their new home. She had made more than enough of her own in her newly remodeled kitchen of course, but she had her mind set on blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies made from none other than Hazel’s Bakery.

She most certainly did not send the two of you in particular in an effort to get you to spend some alone time. No, definitely not.

“Are you warm enough?” Ron asks as you leave through the front door, stepping out into the brisk weather.

You nod, cheeks staining a soft pink at the gentle caring he had for you, the question falling from his lips like it’d been second nature. Caring for you, being protective of you, it was second nature by that point. He doesn’t believe he could help it even if he tried, but he doesn’t want to. Despite the fluttering of your heart you couldn’t help your teasing smile. “Yes. But I suppose it’d be far warmer if we drove there.”

He caught onto your teasing and rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth nonetheless. “Are you ever going to stop teasing me for that, Y/n/n?”

You pretend to give his question some serious thought, puckering your lips as you squint your gaze and tap your finger against your cheek. His laughter broke you from your actions. “No, I don’t think I will, Ronnie.”

Your own laughter was immediate at the scrunch of his nose upon hearing the nickname he loathed so much, more so at the playful narrowing of his blue stare. Maybe he didn’t hate it when it fell from your lips. However, you quickly appeased his obvious displeasure of the name as you brushed the pad of your thumb over his chin, his blushing smile soon to return as he looked at his feet to steady his racing heart. He knew his cheeks had to have matched the leaves on the trees by now. They always had been when in your presence.

You shook your head with a smile as you focused your attention on anywhere but him to avoid worsening the heat in your cheeks. Rather, you focused on the graying of the sky and the way the grass rippled beneath the wind. You listened to the leaves crunching under both your footfalls and the sound they made as the breeze washed over them. For lack of a better word, this time of year had been the most magical, and it seemed as though Ron fit right in with the hues of his hair and equally his attire. Equally his flushed cheeks.

A single wildflower had caught your stare, standing tall amongst the fading green grass. You slowed your stride to bend down and pluck it from the ground, turning to look at Ron who’d now stood paces from you with a curious brow raised.

“What is it?”

You held up the yellow flower, the stem pinched between your fingers as you beamed. In a matter of seconds you ran to him the short distance he was from you, his smile now apparent.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a laugh, one to stave off the way his breath hitched as you leaned up to tuck it within the red hair just above his ear.

It appeared golden amongst the rosy ginger shade and he smiled down at you fondly for a brief moment before shaking his head, not making a move to take it out. You smiled up at him, biting the inside of your cheek to hide just how giddy he’d made you feel in that very moment. You suppose there wasn’t even a reason to feel as such, but that hadn’t mattered; the feeling occurred whenever it so pleased, and it was more often than not it seemed.

You reached the end of the long driveway and took his hand without a second thought, sharing a smile before apparating from the property.

In mere dizzying seconds you had appeared in the ever familiar and unfrequented alleyway, taking a moment to adjust before stepping into foot traffic along with everyone else in the town. It wasn’t as busy as some days it could be, but regardless it was always a fun trip to walk about, it was cozy.

Almost in the very same moment did the two of you realize you’d still been holding hands, releasing the other as you looked your separate ways for just a second. He’d wanted to reach out and hold it once more, to interlock his fingers with yours. He hadn’t really wanted to let go. You risked a glance and he risked his and it wasn’t hard to tell when Ron Weasley has been fighting a smile. Perhaps what was more obvious was the little yellow flower that somehow still remained in his hair. You decided then and there not to mention it.

The denim of your jacket proved to be far less warm than you had thought it to be, or maybe it’d just gotten colder. Either way, as you walked down that sidewalk, you weren’t ready to let Ron know he’d been right in telling you to wear something heavier before you left the house. He always seemed to be right about those kinds of things.

Ron grabbed your wrist to keep you from walking past the bakery, his grin teasing as he held open the green painted door. You were far too distracted by him for your own good.

The smell of coffee and sweets had been instant upon entering, a little bell overhead signaling your entrance into the small yet cozy shop. The showcase had been filled with fresh pastries and baked goods, the line not yet as lengthy it surely would be now that Hazel had switched the sign to ‘open’.

The kind older woman had greeted you as warmly as she did each and every time she’d seen you, making a point to pinch Ron’s cheeks much like his own mother had.

“Hazel! We’ve talked about this,” Ron whines, rubbing his newly reddened cheeks.

“Oh hush, my dear boy,” she says, turning to you. “How do you put up with him?”

You laugh at that, shrugging your shoulders. “I must admit, it is but a wonder indeed, Hazel.”

You look to Ron who’d furrowed his brows at you, lips pursed in faux offense as you smile beamingly up at him. One that dissolved any look to displeasure. One that caused the woman behind the counter to nearly gush about what a wonderful couple you’d be, something that was also very much like his mother.

You placed your order and asked for extra, knowing if you hadn’t that surely Ron would have eaten far too many for Molly not to notice. Though you knew for a fact she’d be able to tell either way. She talked you into staying for just a little bit longer, the promise of hot cocoa far too enticing to turn down as you still felt the shivering effects of the chilly fall weather.

—

“You really thought I’d eat three muffins?” Ron scoffs, mouth full as a few crumbs fall past his lips.

You roll your eyes and shake your head as you walk down the cracked sidewalk, the steaming paper bag clutched in your hand. “You’ve eaten two already.”

“Did I?” He asks, brows furrowed as he halts momentarily to recall it. The genuine shock and confusion painted on his expression had you laughing as you grabbed his hand, tugging him along the walkway before any more passers by all but run into you with looks of annoyance.

“Yes, you did,” you giggle, releasing his hand to link your arm with his once more.

“Well, they’re really good,” he defends as you continue walking. “Really good.”

You look up at him then, a soft smile on your lips as you do so. His cheeks were stained a soft pink from the chilly weather, accentuating the freckles dancing across them and the very bridge of his nose. At the curve of his smile and the dimples that formed when he did just that. Or perhaps it was the near unruly ginger hair that dipped over his forehead and covered his ears; he had yet to get a haircut much to his mother’s dismay. He was starting to resemble his fourth year self, a hair length he’d claimed he hated so very much but you were beginning to think otherwise.

“Are you staring?” He asks a short while later, a more than knowing grin on his lips that sent your stomach into a fit of butterflies and knots.

“You’ve got food on your face, how could I not?” You counter, though the scarlet in your cheeks is far too obvious. It was true, there were crumbs in the corner of his mouth that needed to be swept away, but you were not ready in the slightest to admit your admiring. “Plus you’ve still got that flower in your hair.”

His hand is quick to fly up and pluck it out, looking at the delicate little thing as his cheeks burned once more. So that was what Hazel was talking about. He smiles then with a soft laugh, stopping your stride once more to tuck it behind your ear.

“There, looks much better on you,” he mumbles, smile soft and adoring, one that lingered long after he’d looked away.

“I beg to differ.”

You’d noticed just how gloomy the sky had been, clouds puffy and gray as the breeze intensified just the slightest bit. It wasn’t something you minded, for it was rather scenic amongst the rapidly dwindling buildings the closer you got to the Burrow. You both had decided a walk back would be best given the bag of sweets you now have, not to mention the hot chocolates you each had provided just enough warmth for you to do so.

A sigh left your lips, one of contentment as you walked back in a comfortable silence and you rest your head on his shoulder. Your arm still hooked with his as he slowed his pace for you to keep up with him, and he’d since taken the bag from your hand so you wouldn’t have to carry it. It was the little things that you noticed that others might not; the little things that meant the most to you, that made your heart flutter. Like the way he will always wait for you when something catches your eye in a shop, not an ounce of impatience in him like he may have had with his siblings. Or how he’d save a plate of breakfast for you when you stay at his home because you’d woken up later than his brothers. It left your heart full.

He hadn’t been aware that you’d noticed those kinds of things; he finds he isn’t even aware of it sometimes. Living you had become second nature at this point, it was expressed in nearly everything he did. You were woven into his very heart and hadn’t even known as such. He doesn’t know how he made it quite this far without going absolutely mad, without his heart bursting in his chest every time you look at him the way you do. Every time you smile at him the way you do. It was his hopes that you’d reserved those kinds of looks, those kinds of smiles for just him. It had been his hope that somehow, someway, you had felt the same way.

He knew with all the certainty in the world that he needed to tell you. He doesn’t think he can go another day without telling you as such. He knows he can’t; he loved you from afar for nearly four years. If you don’t feel the same, if it’s all over after his confession, he can take this moment with him. Of your head on his shoulder, of the way you held his hand that day, of the way you looked at him. It needed to be spoken no matter how much it made his hands shake. He almost lost you in that war and he decided he couldn’t risk not telling you.

You reached the familiar stretch of trees lining the vacant road, the breeze having intensified more noticeably. The walk had been quiet save for the chirping of the birds and the crinkle if the bag Ron held, or the crunch of leaves and gravel under your feet. You couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend your afternoon, especially with the knowledge of the warm meal Molly had been preparing for dinner that night. The whole Weasley family would be there, Harry would be there, Hermione would be there. It was plans that made your stomach flip with excitement.

It wasn’t until then, at the very opening of the near dauntingly long dirt driveway that the rain had started to drizzle steadily. You suppose you expected it at that point, with the puffy gray clouds that rapidly blew over any and all sunlight, it had become more than evident that that would be the case.

You gasped upon the weathers sudden change in plans regardless, the icy downpour taking you by surprise. A jovial laugh soon sounded from your lips as you threw your hands up, looking around as it came down and rolled off the tri-colored leaves. They too fluttered down in a flurry of reds and oranges, and you were certain you’d never seen something quite so beautiful, quite so enchanting.

Spotting a nearby shelter beneath the branches of one of the large trees, you grabbed Ron’s hand, ready to pull him along with you though you quickly noticed he hasn’t budged any more than just a few steps. You turned to him then, rather confused in that moment and the more you stood exposed to the sudden storm the less useful it became to seek shelter from it. None of it seemed to matter as he stood there and gazed at you, ginger hair darkened a few shades as it stuck to his forehead and flushed cheeks. The smile on his face was quite possibly the softest you’d ever seen it be, and it held something different, remarkably different and you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. Though it seemed to be far too much as he looked away from you momentarily as if to gather himself, a soft laugh leaving his lips.

Everything felt that much more intense in that moment, and he felt as though his breath was caught in his throat as he stood before you. You were confused, that much was clear. You were still holding his hand in yours, still smiling at him with that smile. That had also been very clear. You were doused in the downpour and his heart beat wildly with each passing second, and if he opened and closed his mouth one more time he felt as though he just might look like an absolute fool.

“What are you doing?” You asked, taking a step closer as you look at him quizzically, “We’re just about soaked and you hate the rain—”

“I love you.”

The three words were spoken then, almost unheard against the heavy rain. They were soft and they were true, how could you not have heard them? Yet even though they clearly were, very clearly, it still hadn’t quite registered to you just exactly what he had just said. You couldn’t believe what you had heard.

“What?” You ask, a soft laugh leaving your lips. Not one of mocking, more of giddy surprise.

“I said I love you,” He repeats louder as he swallowed thickly, accompanied by a nervous laugh of his own as he wipes the wet strands of his hair out of his eyes.

The more time that had gone by, no matter how fleeting it made have been, the butterflies in his stomach were relentless. By this point the rain was of no importance, trying to stay dry was of no importance anymore. What was important was the way you grasped his flannel jacket and leaned on your toes, and the way you pressed your lips on his. Or the way you smiled against his lips as he pulled you close to him, as close as possible, dropping the soaked paper bag of pastries to the ground in favor of settling his hand on your cheek and tangling his fingertips in your hair.

You couldn’t help the quiet giggle that was threatening to break your moment; maybe it was the sheer loving intensity of it, or the fact that this was real and this was happening. But the way he kissed you, the way your heart beat so loudly you thought he could hear it, that’s what had kept you in that very real moment.

When you parted you hadn’t strayed more than a few inches as you looked up at him, beamed, his smile equally so as the two of you laughed softly. It was one of giddy love, of an unexpected moment of bliss. The feeling that the person you loved so wholly loved you back just as much. It was that kind of laugh.

“I love you,” you say, laughing once more as your foreheads touched in the fond moment. The tip of his nose had been flushed from the cold nipping at his skin, his smile brilliant and adoring and entirely telling of his love. “I love you.”

You kiss him again, soft and quick as you grabbed his hand before you spoke up after a short while to relish in your moment. “We’d better go inside!”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding in agreement even if he was perfectly content to stay there and kiss you. “I think we better.”

You pulled him along the muddy path as he laughed behind you at your antics. The two of you were breathless and soaked and still in a daze from the kiss you’d just shared mere moments ago as you rushed through the door. The look on Molly’s face changed from startled to quizzical as she took note of the sheer nothingness in either of your hands, her lips pursing and her arms crossing.

“Just where are the muffins? And the cookies?”

Ron looks to you with a smile and you the same, laughing softly amongst yourselves at the realization of just where they had been. The sight of your kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks was telling enough of the reasoning such a blunder occurred. Not to mention the way the tips of his fingers still grasped yours. She knew. “We must’ve forgotten.”

He hadn’t broken his gaze from you quite yet as he spoke, far too lovestruck to do so. Far too enamored.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @ch0colatefr0gs @vogueweasley @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @awritingtree @lupinsclassroom @harrysweasleys @theweasleysredhair @writeroutoftime