#duck pecks her keyboard

[vaniri]

Dangerous Thing [Minthara Baenre x drow Tav]

Parties in Menzoberranzan can be exhausting. During one of these, Minthara decides to slip away and spend some quality time with her beloved woman.

----- Rating: E Category: F/F Word Count: 3 243 Warnings: sexual content, oral sex, drow women in love

----- As always, big THANK YOU to @ugh-my-back for helping me polish my work 🖤

-----

Minthara never liked parties.

It didn’t really matter which one of Menzoberranzan’s noble houses hosted them, or why they were thrown – it was rarely anything other than a display of host’s wealth and power, an excuse to flaunt their prosperity (sometimes only alleged) and, more importantly, remind the other houses of their position in the City. What really mattered about these parties was how they ended: who managed to raise their status and who got viciously murdered, who learned the darkest secrets and who vanished without a trace. Hardly any party in Menzoberranzan could go without at least one intricate intrigue and some blood spilled. It was a cruel and dangerous game the high society loved to play and despite Minthara being quite proficient in that (she was taught well and by one of the best), she hardly ever enjoyed getting involved in all that mess. It was all so damn exhausting.

Tonight’s evening was pretty peaceful so far though, but Minthara knew that she should never let her guard down. She had learned that the hard way. Polite smiles often hid malicious intentions. Every hand lost from her view, even for a short while, could potentially try to stab her in the back before the end of the night. The game was always on and to lose was to die. And she was a Baenre, daughter of the most ancient and influential house in Menzoberranzan. Life had already taught her that as a significant and illustrious figure she sure was, she should have always expected people to plot against her and target her in their scheming to get power and influence. And that she should always be prepared to fend off their attacks.

Despite her justified suspicion and wariness, she did not stray from getting involved in social activities in order to avoid getting people’s attention. She mingled with the guests, exchanged hollow-hearted pleasantries and forced smiles, joined discussions and shared her thoughts, carefully worded, on their subjects - as someone of her status was expected to do. But something else seemed to occupy her mind, as her eyes were clearly looking for something, or rather someone, searching the crowd for the only face she wanted to see tonight. The only reason Minthara attended all these parties: her beautiful lover, the most perfect woman in the entire Underdark (and probably also the World Above). She had to be there tonight, she would never miss the opportunity to learn the newest rumors and listen about the scandals involving the most notable members of Menzoberranzan’s society. And, most importantly, she would never miss a chance to see Minthara.

She finally saw her, standing among some young girls Minthara didn’t recognize, probably novice priestesses or some less important daughters of not very important mothers. Their eyes met for a brief moment, a hint of playful smile flickered across her face and Minthara already knew she had something wicked in mind. She watched her politely excuse herself and walk towards the ballroom exit, beckoning Minthara to come with her. Minthara followed her without a moment of hesitation, keen to have some respite from all that socializing and pretending, her eyes glued to the captivating figure moving gracefully before her.

Her lover looked stunning that evening. Her long wavy hair, white and lustrous like the finest spidersilk, was tied in a loose low bun, with several small braids adorning her head. Her well-fitted dress, quite revealing but still covering all the parts a decent noble lady should’ve had covered in public, clung to her perfect form, accentuating her beautiful shapes. Its deep red color corresponded wonderfully with her smooth gray skin and her intricate jewelry, made of the finest materials found in the Underdark. She looked like a literal goddess. And even moved like one, climbing the stairs leading to the upper floor of the mansion with such lightness and elegance she seemed to be floating above them.

Minthara was absolutely mesmerized by that sight. They haven’t seen each other for days, whether because of her family duties, or her lover was simply avoiding her on purpose to whet her appetite before the party – Minthara had no idea. But she missed her a lot and seeing her now, so beautiful and irresistible, made Minthara want her more and more with every passing second. She needed to touch her, taste her, feel her squirm under her body and hear her moan her name. She had to remind her who she belonged to.

She couldn’t contain herself any longer. When her lover reached the top of the stairs, she closed in on her with three long strides and pinned her to the nearest wall, her body on hers. She leaned in to steal a kiss, but her woman stopped her with her hand covering Minthara’s lips.

“Patience.” She whispered softly, dragging her finger along Minthara’s lower lip. Her voice was calm, and so was her breath, but her lustful gaze betrayed her desire.

It was very rare for Minthara to not get what she wanted. Usually it was very simple, all she had to do was pull the right strings and just wait. People loved to fawn on her and throw themselves at her feet. They were ready to do anything to please her, hoping to earn her attention and win her favor. But not her beloved. This one was bold enough to defy her, tease her, say no to her demands and make her beg for what she wanted. And that’s what made Minthara so crazy about her.

But she would never let anyone know how much this woman has bewitched her. And certainly she would never make it so obvious in front of her. She had an image to maintain. So despite the overcoming desire to devour her right here and now, Minthara reluctantly pulled away from her, giving her a sign to lead the way, wherever she wanted to take her.

Her lover took her hand and guided her down a dark narrow corridor, humming some cheerful melody under her nose, her excitement palpable. Minthara didn’t interrupt her, enjoying the familiar tune and waiting patiently to see where this whole jaunt would take them in the end. Finally, after what felt like ages, they stopped in front of one of the many doors and her beloved opened them quickly, revealing a relatively small, sparsely decorated but still fancy-looking room with a large bed in its center. She gave Minthara a quick glance, a playful smile tugging at her lips, and, without a warning, she shoved her inside.

Minthara didn’t have time to protest because her lover pushed her against the wall and closed her lips around hers, finally giving in to her desire. Minthara did not resist, she hungrily returned her kiss, aching to feel her whole. As her tongue explored her lover’s mouth, her hands quickly found their way under the fabric of her dress, finally free to roam her entire body.

“I love when you’re so eager you don’t know where to put your hands.” The woman teased between kisses, groping Minthara’s ass and pressing her pelvis hard against hers to feel even more of her. She moaned softly when Minthara’s hands reached her breasts, fingers rubbing her already hard nipples in a slow, circular motion.

“I missed your body so much. I want to touch you everywhere.”

“I missed yours too. I want to see it, in all its glory.”

With Minthara’s hands still occupied with her chest, she unfastened her dress herself and then gave her a gentle but suggestive push, prompting her to do the rest of the work on her own. Minthara begrudgingly took a step back and swiftly slipped her dress off her shoulders, letting it fall on the floor. Her smallclothes joined it right after. She was standing there proudly, completely naked, watching her lover circle her like a starving predator did its delicious prey and take in every inch of her exquisite form. Minthara knew her body was absolutely ravishing, slender but firm, covered in faint freckles and several dark scars, each a proof of her grit and endurance. But seeing what a mere sight of it did to her beloved, how it filled her with fascination, adoration and unadulterated carnal desire, feeling her lustful gaze burn on her skin – it boosted her self-confidence even further.

Without a word, the woman took Minthara’s hand and led her towards the bed. Still fully dressed, she ensconced herself by the headboard and motioned Minthara to join her there. Minthara obediently crawled to her and let her seat her between her legs, back against her chest.

“Let me show you how much I adore you.” Her lover whispered in her ear, peppering it with hot kisses, her arms wrapping around her waist. Minthara purred softly, enjoying the attention her lover's lips were giving to her ear and neck, and the coolness the fabric of her spidersilk dress provided to her heated skin.

Her woman knew all the right spots on Minthara’s body and lavished them evenly with attention and care. She started off safe, with her ears, neck, shoulders and belly, kissing and massaging wherever she could reach, making Minthara melt into her touch. Her palms moved down to her legs, thumbs rubbing her inner thighs, closer and closer to her groin, then left to caress her sides. Every brush of her fingers made Minthara shiver, every touch made her ache for more. Her beloved had her fully at her mercy, exposed and vulnerable, and she was happily using the power she was given. Normally it would have scared Minthara to be like that, to give herself to someone entirely - without fear of getting betrayed. It should have scared her. But not with this woman. She trusted her completely, with her body and soul. And she was certain she was putting herself in good and loving hands.

She let out a quivering sigh when her lover’s palms cupped her breasts, then a loud moan when her fingers focused on her sensitive nipples. She pinched and rubbed them interchangeably, her mouth nibbling her earlobe, and Minthara felt the throbbing heat between her legs grow more intense with every second. Her beloved could have made her come only by fondling her breasts (actually she had done that before, several times, that skilled woman), but that wouldn’t satisfy Minthara tonight. She wanted her hands on her most sensitive parts, she needed her to touch her properly. She rubbed her legs together, trying to give her already dripping pussy some much needed friction, but her lover kept her in place, biting her ear to remind Minthara that she was in charge now.

“Patience.” She reminded her.

Finally, after a long and delicious while of playing with Minthara’s tits, one of her lover’s hands found its way between her legs. Her slender finger slid between her slick folds, rubbing her already swollen clit and Minthara felt her orgasm build up rapidly in her abdomen, every stroke sending waves of bliss throughout her body. She let out a surprised moan when her beloved circled her entrance and slid a finger inside, dragging her juices out and smearing them all over her bud to add more slickness and make her sensations even better. She stroked her clit with short, quick motions, adding more pressure when she wanted to make Minthara wail and reducing the intensity of her ministrations when Minthara was enjoying herself too much. She knew well how to dose her pleasure and how to make her a squirming mess.

Finally, when she decided she was done teasing, her hand picked up the pace, and with the other hand still playing with her already overstimulated nipples, Minthara couldn’t hold back any longer. She came hard, crying out her lover’s name, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure rushing through her body like a thunderwave. Her cunt throbbed intensely, walls contracting rhythmically around two fingers her beloved slipped in her to finger her through her orgasm.

She held Minthara tight until she came down from her high, stroking her hair and murmuring sweet words of affection in her ear: how much she meant to her, how much she loved to worship her body and hear her cry her name like it’s the only word she knew. And all these terms of endearment that could have them both tortured and maybe even killed, if anyone caught them saying these to each other. My passion. Source of my joy. My one and only. My love.

Hearing all these things, uttered by the woman she adored so much, made Minthara’s heart flutter. She turned around and pressed her lips against her lover’s, eager to show her how much she reciprocated all these feelings. Their kiss was fierce and messy, and Minthara couldn’t resist playfully biting her lower lip as her hands dealt with the skirt of her dress, tossing it aside and revealing her beautiful toned thighs. She made her way down her lover’s body, kissing every exposed part of her  skin until her face buried between her legs, where she tugged her already damp underwear aside and spread her folds, giving herself full access to her dripping core. Minthara planned to tease her a little first, but the scent of her arousal was too enticing and made her want to devour her right here and now. So she pressed the tip of her tongue against her clit, then slid it into her and tasted her arousal, purring contently at the wanton moan her action elicited.

She lapped at her sweet spot, reveling in all these lovely sounds her woman was making. She was always a delight to please, so vocal and responsive, and so direct with her needs. She guided Minthara’s hand to her entrance, prompting her to slip a finger inside and Minthara happily complied, purring contently when her lover ran her fingers through her silky hair. She held her head, keeping her mouth where she wanted it most while Minthara thrust deep into her in a slow steady pace, adding another digit for more stimulation when one felt like nothing in her needy cunt.

Minthara focused her full attention on her clit, sucking and licking the overstimulated bud, feeling it throb against her tongue - an undeniable sign she was close to her release. Her fingers pounded into her dripping hole, picking up the pace as her lover rutted feverishly against her hand, begging her to fuck her harder. She came moments later, with Minthara's name on her lips, her pussy contracting fiercely around her fingers, covering her entire hand with her juices.

Minthara pulled her fingers out and licked them clean, savoring the taste of her lover’s essence, locking her eyes with hers. She looked exceptionally delectable, with her cheeks flushed and those full rosy lips parted. Some strands of her hair had fallen loose from her previously tidy bun, now framing her face and somehow making her even more beautiful. She reached to Minthara, hand still shaking after her intense orgasm, and held her cheek, whispering her name so tenderly and with so much fondness Minthara couldn’t contain emotions that surged through her. The familiar feeling of warmth and elation was swelling somewhere in her chest and she couldn’t even try to pretend she didn’t know what that sensation was anymore.

It was a very dangerous and unwise thing for a drow to develop feelings for another and give themselves to them, fully and genuinely. Especially for one from a house like Baenre. Minthara was usually very cautious and extremely picky when it came to trusting people and letting them closer. Not too close though, as life had already taught her that most of these people wanted to be in her favor for their own personal gain and would turn against her in an instant the moment planting a knife in her turned out more beneficial. She already had several scars to prove that statement. She had to learn how to see through people and read their motives, play them as she wanted, to always be one step ahead of them and their plotting. And never get attached to them. Of course she had made some mistakes, but after learning her lesson all her lovers and so-called friends became nothing more than a temporary entertainment, a moment of fun with no strings attached, and she was ready to get rid of them without batting an eye the moment she noticed their intentions were vile. That's how she managed to survive so long in the treacherous high society of Menzoberranzan.

But her relationship with this woman was different. She was different. Selfless and sincere, from the very beginning. She never asked for anything, other than affection and honesty, and offered the same in return. She’d proven her loyalty to Minthara, more times than she could even recall, and earned her full trust. It started off as an innocuous affair, based on their carnal desires and yearning for connection with someone, even for a short while. But it lasted for years now and Minthara already knew their involvement had long ago turned into something deeper. Meaningful. Dangerous.

Her common sense demanded Minthara to kill that woman the moment she noticed the change. She should have destroyed the object of these feelings and the bond they shared, before it corrupted her mind and ruined her completely. But one look in her lover’s warm eyes was enough to make Minthara realize that she was already beyond the point of saving. And it didn’t scare her, as she had already come to terms with her own feelings and accepted her weakness in full.

Love like this was a rare thing in the Underdark. It should have been cherished, not fought.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Hm?” Minthara snapped out of her musing. Her love was visibly amused, watching her with curiosity in her eyes.

“You were lost in your thoughts. What were you thinking about?”

“You, of course.” She gave her lover’s crotch a quick peck and put her underwear back in place.

“No need to think about me, I’m already here.”

Minthara crawled back to her and snuggled up against her chest as her beloved pulled her into a loving embrace. She found comfort in her smell, relaxing completely while listening to her heartbeat, strong and steady, enjoying her hand tenderly stroking her head.

“Stay with me here. I don’t want to go back to the party.” Minthara purred, content with her current position and reluctant to change it.

“They’ve probably noticed our disappearance already.”

“Good, they may be noticing it for a bit longer.”

Her lover chuckled lightly, then her expression suddenly sobered.

“Your mother-“

“Knows I came here for you and you alone.” Minthara cut her off. “She has more pressing matters to attend to today than tailing me and making sure I behave, trust me.”

“I do trust you, Alurlssrin.” That word always made Minthara’s chest swell with warmth, so many emotions rushing through her mind. An undeniable proof that her lover felt the same. “But please, don’t complain to her later that you missed the entire party because I kept you in bed all night and didn’t let you go. She didn’t believe you last time and she won’t believe you now.”

It was Minthara's turn to chuckle, until her lover pressed her lips against hers to finally silence her.

She would never dare complain about that.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #minthara baenre #minthara #minthara x tav #drow tav #baldur's gate #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #duck pecks her keyboard

[asukaskerian]

monthly word count - october

TOTAL: 2 109

Posted: nothin'!

In progress: -madatobiizu ABO - cherry wine (1 332 words) -bleach: suburban ot4 (777 words)

=__= the exexcutive dysfunction don't stop from getting worser. hghghbvg.

cherry wine --

"Any leads?"

Pouring the next cup for Madara, Yoritomo sighed, "Sadly, not yet. The Nara clan was no help at all."

Raiha hummed in thoughtful commiseration. Madara sighed, irritated by the reminder. He hadn't even wanted to admit to this much. "It was one of their drugs, but breaking into their customer files isn't worth the trouble."

"Still," Izuna interjected, "now we know they didn't go to someone else, so that still narrows it down." He turned his dimpling smile onto the nieces. "So, is this your first time at court?"

The beta of the two nodded, expression cool and reserved; the omega smiled back, quickly ducking her head like she didn't want Raiha to notice and comment. 

Madara wondered if the two knew their aunt had volunteered the beta sister to help with his rut yesterday. She didn't seem the kind of person to tolerate nonsense all that easily. Sharp eyes, a downturned mouth -- she caught him looking and smiled, eyes crinkling, a beat too late. Bizarrely offended, he had to swallow down a growl.

The omega sister was still tittering with Izuna. She made him want to growl worse, with her little grins and her tilted head -- the girl at the tea party the other day had done it better, the other omega --

"You're aware she'll be in heat soon?"

Sudden silence. Madara was aware that mentioning it out loud was rude, but what was even ruder was bringing her into his space with his nest. Tobirama's scent wasn't even all the way faded from the nesting pit...!

-- suburban ot4 --

# karakura kids

ONLINE--(5)

15goingon51: you guys will be happy 15goingon51: they're leaving 15goingon51: landlord kicking them out. Willpower_Ramen!!_eat-it-snort-it-put-it-in-your-faces: the harem breaking up??? oh man i was kinda starting to root for you lol :( Color-me-blue: Condolences. Color-me-blue: You guys are still planning to hang out though, right? 15goingon51: thats what they say but who knows  15goingon51: whatever gtg. Willpower_Ramen!!_eat-it-snort-it-put-it-in-your-faces: ichigo? :((((

--

Thing is, Ichigo hasn't managed to forget what Orihime said, back when they first discussed rent, and how long they saw the other couple staying.

'I like that Nel-chan is here during the day. I kinda -- otherwise, I just do chores. All my other friends work. It's nice, keeping house, but it doesn't take all the hours in my day, you know? And it's -- quiet.' 

The more he thinks about it the more names he calls himself in his head. He should have seen it. He should have known. Orihime is the friendliest, most easygoing person he's ever met. That she has no bosom friend yet in the neighborhood means it'll never happen.

"Ohh, there's a dojo near this one." 

Nel and Orihime are curled up on the couch with the laptop precariously balanced on Nel's belly. Since she can't type without risking sending it careening to the floor, Hime's the one who reaches out to peck search terms on the keyboard. Both her knees are pressed to her chest, back rounded and toes tucked underneath Nel's thigh.

"Sounds cool, put it in the bookmarks."

Nel's voice has such a gentle undertone, just as bad at staying casual as Orihime's wistfulness. Ichigo feels like shit.

#teaser #ABO quest

[babbygirlblues]

Is there a Wentworth fandom here? I found these two on youtube so now I'm watching the series & taking out my obsession on my keyboard, so if you're interested, here's what I'm writing!

Intro to Franky & Bridget is probably best done with this clip. Highly recommend it, it's what drew me in. Although if you want to start at the start there's a nice playlist here.

Letting Ya Down

Summary: Franky's hates feeling like she’s letting Bridget down.

Warnings: Smut! Tribbing/Scissoring. 1.5k

18+ MINORS DNI

“What’s going on, baby?” Bridget slides closer on the couch. Her face is lit up by the TV, a glaring distraction that doesn’t seem to be doing it’s job for either of them.

Franky’s gaze seems to bore through the TV and into the wall behind it. Her mind is clearly elsewhere and Bridget can practically feel the anxiety vibrating off her.

“Hmm?” Franky turns her head on the cushion, squishing her cheek into the pillow so she can look at Bridget.

Bridget’s gaze is as open and honest as always. The older woman's hand reaches out and she runs gentle fingers through Franky’s dark hair, brushing her eye’s clear so she can’t hide behind the cascading shadows. 

Franky’s eyes close at the feeling of Bridget's fingers at her crown and she shrugs sluggishly, “Nothin’.”

A weak smile plays on her lips and slowly grows into a real grin at the concerned way Bridget fidgets at her hair. Bridget's hand drops from her forehead and she tugs teasingly on Franky’s ear, soothing the lob between her thumb and pointer finger with soft circles. 

“Are you sure?” Bridget mumbles, the tv seems quieter although neither have touched the remote. Franky’s head spirals with the ways she could tell Bridget the truth. 

“Mmhmm…” Franky ducks her head further into Bridget's hand until she cups her cheek in a warm palm. 

“Talk to me?” Bridget pleads, but she’s ready to let it go if Franky isn’t ready to say what’s on her mind.

Franky crawls the short distance to Bridget’s lap and shuffles herself into her side, digging her face into the crook of the woman's neck.

“I think I’m going to be fired.” She blurts out, her breath blowing against the warm skin of Bridget’s neck.

Bridget moves back, shocked and almost knocks Franky off her chest, “What?” 

Franky whines softly and the sound makes Bridge quickly pull her back into her arms. 

“A client started asking about the show today,” Frankie says, “I could tell the guys at work weren’t happy with the questions, they knew something.”

“Oh, honey.” Bridget murmurs.

Franky sniffles and a wet droplet falls down Bridget’s throat. 

“I’m so fucking sick of letting you down.” She sighs, her lip curling in and she clamps down hard between her teeth.

“No, baby.” Bridget runs wide circles over Franky’s back, the sweater over her shoulder trembling. “No.”

Franky murmurs quietly.

“You’re not letting me down.” Bridget whispers. 

Franky shakes her head, “I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Bridget says louder and with a pointed ferocity, it knocks Franky off her course for a second. 

“You could never let me down.” Bridget whispers. Her lips press confidently to Franky’s forehead in a simple kiss and she continues to place pecks down her nose and over her sharp cheekbones. When she reaches Franky’s lips her press is hot and heavy, and Franky meets her desperately in a fierce open mouthed kiss. 

She tips Bridget backwards with a strong grip on the backs of her knees forcing her to fall back into the thick pillowy couch.

“Franky,” Bridget gasps.

Franky rips the band of Bridget’s track pants over her hips and it slips easily over the swell of her ass. She loops two fingers in her underwear and slides the thin material off Bridget's legs and over her ankles.

Bridget chuckles lightly when Franky ducks back up to her mouth to press a kiss to her lips. 

Bracketed between Franky’s strong arms, Bridget squirms as her inner thighs are ripped apart and Franky digs room for herself between Bridget’s legs. Franky’s fingers are demanding and they spread Bridget’s pussy easily, the swollen, wet folds parting and begging for Franky’s touch. 

She starts with teasing light circles of Bridget's clit, forcing warmth into her core and tendrils of white heat to smother the bones in her spine and chest. 

Franky sinks the first finger into welcoming walls and Bridget squeezes her tight as ever at the first penetration. She doesn’t slow down, the dark echo in the back of her mind tells her that this is all she’s good for. Bridget deserves to feel good, she doesn’t deserve the shit Franky puts her through, she could do so much better.

Her ring finger joins the middle and she drives hard into Bridget's cunt, searching for the spot that makes her breathlessly moan Franky’s name.

She finds it and digs into it brutally. Bridget whimpers uncontrollably, feminine and vulnerable, as pleasure shoots up her core. 

“F-Franky, baby, oh, oh, fuck!” 

The gravely sound makes Franky wild and she quickly ups her pace, adding a third finger and pistolling her arm until it aches. 

“Franky!” Bridget moans, “Oh god, please.”

Sweat peaks on Franky’s forehead and her forehead furrows in concentration. She’s determined to make it up to Bridget.

The older woman’s eyes are hazy, but she searches Franky’s face and is heartbroken to find her so serious. Franky has a tendency to ‘perform’ and despite the pleasure Franky inflicts, it’s tainted by knowledge that she’s not enjoying it like Bridget is.

Bridget’s hands drop to the crook of Franky’s elbow, slowing her down and creating some distance between their heated bodies.

“What’s wrong?” Franky whispers.

“Pants,” Bridget sighs, “Pants, Franky.”

The blonde tugs pleadingly on the material of Franky's shorts. Franky groans as she roughly grabs the material and pulls it down her legs. Her underwear follows quickly after thanks to Bridget who carefully caresses her skin under the waistband, using her palms to drag it down to Franky’s calves. It draws Franky from her mind for a second, the soothing press of Bridget's hands over her thighs immediately makes her core throb.

“Better?” Franky huffs.

“Hmm,” Bridget hums, “Come here,”

Franky hovers over her, confused as Bridget guides one leg over the woman's waist and positions her hips directly above her pelvis with two hands on Franky’s hip bones. 

“Come here,” Bridget insists with a gentle whisper.

She pulls Franky’s hips down until her cunt drags along Bridgets and she gasps softly.

“F-fuck, Gidge.” Franky whimpers. “What the fuck?”

Bridget’s jaw has dropped, her lips gaping open as she feels Franky’s wet heat sinking onto her own. Franky is enamoured with the sight of Bridget completely incapacitated on the couch, her finger nails claw desperately into Franky’s hip bones and her flushed skin from her chest to her cunt is all bare for Franky’s eyes to see.

Their skin presses together and Franky slowly works up the confidence to rock her pelvis along Bridget’s slit. 

“That’s it,” Bridget murmurs, “Good girl,” She drawls. 

Franky slumps forwards, her hands slamming down into the couch above Bridget’s head, getting a better angle with her hips. Her legs start to shake with the effort of keeping herself tamed and gentle against Bridget. 

Both of them keep panting, breaths deep and heavy. Franky’s hair curtains over her face, clinging to the damp skin of her neck and face and back. 

“Gidge,” She whimpers, the syllables getting caught in her throat and crackling out with her breath. 

Bridget’s hands arch in warm circles from the start of Franky’s ass up to her shoulder blades until Franky drops into a rough, testing thrust against Bridget and her hands scramble to Franky’s ass. She grips both cheeks in each hand and squeezes Franky in her palms, encouraging another harsh movement against her.

Bridget’s breathing gets faster and heavier as her hip keeps rutting up and she catches the perfect place against Franky’s clit. 

“Gidge,” Franky moans her voice rising from gravel to a high pitched whimper, “Fuck, oh, oh, oh, fuck!”

Fanky’s movements start to become less controlled, the inelegance of them makes Bridget swoon. Her body rocks under the hammering pace of Franky’s hips and she rises to the challenge of meeting them. 

Bridget pinches her eyes tightly closed, starving off the creeping orgasm she can feel is about to hit her like a train. Franky’s panting, moaning lips above her keep tipping her closer to the edge but she wants to wait. She always craves Franky’s orgasm first, Franky comes first.

The raven-haired woman starts to shudder, Bridget watches smitten by the pleasurable expression that captured Franky’s face. Her strong hands keep guiding Franky’s ass, helping her rock steadily against Bridget and she thrusts her own hips up to meet Franky’s cunt as she breaks. 

“G-gidge, I-” She fumbles around the words caught in her throat, “Nnggh.”

It’s enough to make Bridget fall, her own movement turning sloppy as she frantically searches for Franky’s sex, craving as much ferocity against her clit as possible.

Franky, as observant as ever, pumps down into Bridget's core with the last of her energy. 

“Franky, shit,” Bridget moans, “Oh, baby.”

Bridget’s chest drops back down as she starts to calm and settle into the cushion. Franky follows her down, digging her face into the crux of Bridget's neck when the woman’s hands sweep back up her back and she tangles fingers in Franky’s dark locks. Her fingertips massage gently into Franky’s skull and eventually the younger woman's breathing evens out.

“Franky?” Bridget whispers, unable to tell if she’s fallen asleep, “Baby?”

Franky only nuzzles herself deeper into Bridget's neck, the simple response says everything and it draws a soft smile onto Bridget’s face.

~~~

#franky x bridget #franky doyle x bridget westfall #franky doyle #bridget westfall #frankie and bridget #franky and bridget #frankie x bridget #wentworth #wlw #writing

[kaylathekittykat225]

Carnival Ride of Horror // Steve Harrington x Reader

Carnival of Horror // SH

Warning/s: Cursing, laughing at inappropriate times, (very minimal) mentions/implications of abuse/stalking (just wanna warn, its super small but just in case!)

Word Count: 3.5k

Hey guys! It’s been a bit since I’ve written, lemme tell you, life has been kinda crappy and its just a little less crappy now! So I decided to start pecking at the keyboard again and this is what came of it! This lovely person requsted this work and I just got around to starting to really write because I had a free week. Anywhoodles, it’s good to write something again and I hope yall enjoy it!

Again thank you for this idea @seraphiiii

omg i came across your post about writing ideas in my feed and got so excited to see both steve harrington and young justice in the tags lmao. but i think a steve harrington x reader where reader and him go to an amusement park and reader is terrified of the rides so he’s like comforting her throughout them and encouraging her but also laughing (in a good natured way obvi) about how scared she is and stuff? i think that would be so cute!!

Here’s my Masterlist.

Enjoy.

-----

“Stevie, when we agreed to have a date night away from the kids, I didn't think we would be going into a mass of more kids.” As he pulled the keys out, you stared at the bright light shining machinery that had been set in the middle of a field outside the city. The annual summer fair had finally made its way to Hawkins, and it had left a buzz in the air as everyone planned when they would go, talked about what rides had come this year, who their ride buddy would be; it had been all the kids had been talking about for weeks. They put a day together the coming weekend to go as a group and they planned to drag Steve and you along on the off chance that they needed an “adult” to allow them on the rides.

Funny how they assumed either Steve or you knew how to adult.

“Cause I thought it would be a nice change from us just watching movies or having dinner.”

“Oh, so dino nuggets are no longer date-worthy for you.” Steve almost took you seriously, but he saw the grin that has graced your lips at your own comment. He relaxed a little knowing that you weren’t upset with his idea for date night, but he had always wanted to kiss someone at the top of a Ferris Wheel, and he would do anything to get you to the top of the rotating ride.

“So, you’re not mad that I chose here for tonight?” You shook your head and pulled at the door handle separating the two of you from the outside life.

“Of course not Stevie, I just thought it was an interesting choice.” The smile you chose to have was one that hopefully convinced him that you were okay with where the pair of you were going, even if you weren’t happy with the choice.

You can be happy with the idea of going to a carnival as long as you don’t go on-”Cool, so what ride do you want to do first?”

“Shit.” The world slipped out before you could stop yourself as Steve finished paying for your tickets and asked what you had said. “Nothing just kicked myself. Um…” You looked around frantically for something to do that wasn’t flashing brightly and spinning faster than the legal highway speed. “Let’s go over there!”

Steve followed your hand as he saw you point towards the stands of games that were rigged and way too fricking expensive, but he would do it for you. “Alright, starting out with some games I see, I like it.”

The two of you ran through a few of the games, most of them where Steve got way too into it and you had to step between them as he tried screaming that he deserved that stuffed bear/pony/cat/fish, because he almost had it every single time. He did beat out the basketball one, one of the last ones the two of you did on that strip, bolstering his confidence just enough to get him into a cheery enough mood.

“Alright! We played some games, and let the crazies test out the rides so I’m pretty sure they won’t break down on us. Which one should we do first? They got a drop tower, or how about the pit viper swings? Or, or, or how about we…” The night had been going enjoyable up until Steve turned to the rides you had managed to distract him from and pointed at the glowing and fast-moving monsters.

“How about we do the haunted walk over there?” Steve followed your pointing finger with a quizzical look, he hadn’t really taken note of the scary attraction before, never thought to really look to it with everything else going on. “I bet it won’t even be scary to us after everything we’ve been through right ha.”

You took off with a dry laugh without waiting for a response from him; his cries were head behind you, but the haunted house looked better than anything else around you. “Y/N.” He called you again, but you walked faster. By the time you got to the stairs leading into the building, you were practically running up them to get into the dark house with smoke billowing out of it.

“Y/N!” Your name was the last thing you heard before diving through the door and physically bumping into one of the scarers dressed as a zombie. He seemed nice, breaking character enough to ask if you were okay before you had already turned the corner and left him behind too.

Twisting and turning, you didn’t pay much mind to the screaming witches, zombies, skeletons, or anything that happened all around you; over the music and screaming, you could vaguely hear your name, giving you an indication that Steve followed you.

Not too far in, you found a quieter corner with only a couple cobwebs around it where you quickly ducked back into and tried pressing yourself into it deeper, hoping to watch Steve walk right by you.

Why the hell were you running from your boyfriend? You gained a sense of logic for a second where you paused. Why were you running? This was super childish of you and really had no reason. All Steve wanted to do was go on a few rides and you were being selfish and completely ruining what was going to be one of the few evenings you didn’t have to babysit the kids.

As the guilt started to swirl with your desire to not be found, you didn’t notice as the Frankenstein in the room had taken notice of you hiding in the corner and started to tromp over to you. “Hey, miss, you can’t be hiding in here, you gotta keep moving.”

“I’ll be out in a second, sir, let me just-” “You can’t be here-” “If you give me a second, I will leave as soon as I can-” “Miss you have to leave-” “Give me one dan minute-” “Y/N!”

Among all the screaming the Frankenstein and you had been doing was your name being called by a third and new voice along with a hand clasping onto your shoulder. Looking to the hand, you saw the unmistakable outline of the man you were hiding from. “There you are babe, why were you running off.” Just looking at the Frankenstein’s demeanor, you could tell he went into defense mode suddenly.

“Were you hiding from him miss? Are you okay? Do you feel safe?” The painted man moved to step between you and Steve in an attempt to separate you two.

“Whoa, whoa buddy, back off. She’s my girlfriend, chill out.” Steve tried stepping around the man o little success.

“Oh, your girlfriend? And she’s running from you? I don’t think this is looking very good for you, buddy.” The two were shooting back and forth at each other, getting chest to chest, and starting to cause a larger disturbance that started o be heard over the music and background scream noises. More workers it looked like started to slip into the room and try to get the two men to quiet down, going so far as to begin threats of throwing them out of the haunted house.

You were pulled away from the situation before being pushed away and into the next room, looking like it was on its way to the exit in the next two or three rooms: your destination.

-----

“Y/N?” His voice finally chirped up next to you as Steve took a seat next to you on the grass at the edge of the carnival. “You okay?” When he saw you sitting over here, he had quickly jogged over and took her in as he did so: sitting with her face pressed into her knees and arms wrapped tightly around her legs as she kept herself in as tight of a ball as possible.

You didn’t respond at first, only moving your head to look up at your boyfriend, the person you have embarrassed tonight and most definitely pissed off with your childish antics tonight. “I’m sorry.”

“Whoa what do you have to apologize for? I’ve been worried about you and wanted to make sure that you are okay.” His hand found its way to your back and began rubbing circles into your shoulder blade.

“I was really childish today and you didn’t deserve it, all because I was scared of the stupid rides.” Your words may have been mumbles, but he heard every word clearly.

“Hold on. Babe, did you say you were scared of the rides?” Your small and timid nod was enough for him to understand. “Why didn’t you tell me? I never would have brought you here if I knew that!”

Swallowing the thick feeling in your throat, you looked up at him and saw the disappointment and hurt in his face and that hurt. “Because you were so excited about it, I thought I could get through it and do at least one or two with you. But as we got closer, I guess my nerves got the best of me and I just...ran. Like a stupid child.”

“Hey, hey, hey, no.” Steve quickly shuffled to kneel in front of you and grabbed your hands, holding them in his own and your legs fell down to where you were now criss cross apple sauce. “I’m not gonna force you to do any of these rides if you don’t wanna. If you want to just go home, we can make this a movie night if that works better for you.”

“No, Stevie,” His mouth quirked up at this name. “You already bought the tickets; I don’t want you to waste the money you earned because I’m a scaredy cat.”

Steve took a second to think, racking his brain on how to salvage what has been an eventful evening. “How about…” He paused again and just stared at you with you staring back at him, waiting to hear what he wanted to say. “You can say no, how about we try a few rides, to try and get you on some. If you don’t like riding after one, we can go home, and you can at least say you did it.”

Mulling this idea over in your head, your eyes shifted from where your boyfriend sat in front of you to the bright and joyous scream filled rides were. “I suppose they don’t all look so bad.” You murmured to him, staring particularly at the giant Ferris Wheel that turned, a small memory from early on in your relationship popping into your head. Steve had mentioned a few times that his dream date would be to take a girl up on a Ferris Wheel and cuddle her and kiss her when they got to the top.

“Okay, we can try a few.” Though shaky, your voice was a little stronger this time and you gave Steve a small smile.

“You sure?” A nod. “Okay, I’ll let you choose which one we go on, okay?” Another nod.

Together, the two of you stood to your feet and approached the hustle and bustle of the carnival grounds again. “What did that Frankenstein do to you? I hope he didn’t get you in trouble or anything.” You asked as you laced your hand with Steve while the other went to hold onto his arm, squeezing it slightly as you got closer to the machines and your stomach growing heavy again.

“Oh him, he didn’t do much, just tried scaring me when he though I was some creep chasing you.” He chuckled at the short story, glancing over to you as you took in the carnival for really the first time, looking for something that didn’t freak you out. “How about we start with those spinning pods over there? All they do is spin around and if you want it to, we can make it spin on the inside too.”

Following his finger, you saw what he was referring to as it did spin around, the four small egg things with windows in them were spinning on the main machinery but also appeared to be spinning on their own. As you got closer and apparently joined the line, you could see inside one of them a group of middle school boys cackling as they pulled on the weird center disk that kinda looked like a pizza pan. “Yeah, we can give it a try.” The shakiness in your voice had come back and your grip on Steve tightened.

“Hey, you got this I’ll be right here with ya.” He returned the squeeze to your hand and fishes through his pocket for two tickets to hand over at the entrance. “Up ya go.” He mutters as he helps you up the three stairs leading into the egg ride thing you were entering before he stepped in behind you and took his place next to you. You were already holding a death grip on the center console when the door was shut, and Steve sat next to you. “You know what this is?” He asked gesturing to the disk you were holding onto with the vice grip.

“Something for me to hold onto?” You shocked yourself with how violently your voice was shaking as you heard something start to rumble around you. “Oh, shit its moving.” Steve let a quick chuckle out before he stopped himself and tried explaining the center console would cause the pod thing to spin. “Fuck no! Don’t you dare make this thing spin.” Bloody murder was not even near definitive enough of how much you were screaming.

“Babe, babe calm down, it’s fine! I promise, ha!” In comparison to your screaming, Steve seemed to be having the time of his life as he laughed; at least he wasn’t making the ride spin. “Babe, babe, babe, I’m so sorry I’m laughing, I promise I didn’t mean to, but you were screaming so much! And it was hilarious!” Steve held onto his sides as he nearly fell out of the pod and waited for you to follow his laughing self. When you didn’t step out, he turned back around and saw you still had your hands clenched very tightly to the metal plate, your eyes wide and your lips pursed together. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about the rides, do you wanna go home?”

Hearing him soften up got you to finally look at him and slowly let go of the wheel. “N-n-no. I’m…” You paused to catch your breath and steady your voice. “I’m good, I just don’t know if I can do any more of these kinds of things.” Taking his hand, you pulled yourself up and stepped out from the ride and have yourself a few seconds to remember how to use your legs.

“You okay?” You nodded at him and gave a shaky, but okay smile. “You sure you wanna do another one? Cause we can go-”

“No, no, I can do…” The carnival really did have more rides than just ones that wanted to make you die, but none that really made you want to jump on them. “Can we do the carousel? I know I can do that one at least, my mom took me on them enough as a kid to be desensitized to those ones.” Steve looked over and saw the carousel that was filled predominately by smaller children, but if you wanted to do this and it was because he bought the tickets, he couldn’t make her do something else.

“If that’s what you wanna do, then we can do the carousel all night long, babe.” You nodded at him and followed him as he took your hand and the two began the walk to the carousel.

The carousel ride was much less curse filled, thankfully. You and Steve had found a pair of horses sitting side by side and the two of you quickly claimed them. Like you had said, you did get to enjoy this ride due to having done it before and you were able to just chat between the two of you, talking about how the kids were cute, how excited you were to take the kids to the park and not have to rides. It was a fine ride, definitely better than the last one.

“You ready to go home, babe?” Steve turned to you with a smile on his face. Getting you to ride two of the rides was honestly enough for him, plus, he knew Dustin would ride all of them with him later, with you waiting at the end for him.

You were about to agree and leave this eventful evening behind you, but you saw what Steve was standing near and bit your lip. Should you do it? Could you do it? “Actually, I wanna do one more.” He gave a quick quirk of his head before he followed your eyeline and turned around.

“What? Babe, we don’t have to do that, you have been through enough today and you were great, you don’t have to prove anything.”

“But...you have been wanting to do it, you told me about it one time.” You responded a little shyly as you confessed that you were doing it back of what he told you that one time. “I just...I really want you to be able to do it.”

“You...you remembered?” Steve was kind of shocked that you remembered him mentioning it, he had told that to girls in the past, but none of them really went out of their way to think about it, hell, even to remember it. “Are you su-”

“Steve, yes, I wanna do it with you.” The grin on his face was immaculate and contagious as one grew on your face as he quickly took this well and pulled you towards the line to the Ferris Wheel and dug around in his pockets for another round of tickets.

As it went around, you felt your stomach grow heavy again when you finally saw how high it got and had to calm yourself down without causing another scene. “Come on, babe, looks like ours is up.” He gently tugged on your hand and pulled you into the seat next to him before the handlebar was lowered and locked in front of you. “And here we go!”

The squeak that left your mouth was nothing but surprise and terror as you clung onto the bar for your life, your knuckles turning white with the sheer force you were holding on. “It’s really stupid you know that the only thing holding us back from falling to our death is this small bar and it’s really stupid because was if I was reall-holy shit this is really tall!” You finally removed your hands from the bar and moved to press yourself in Steve.

You could feel him trying to stop himself from giggling as he moved his arm to wrap it around you. “You can laugh you know; I really don’t care. I’m the coward of an almost twenty-year-old who’s scared of a carnival.” A chuckle did come through as the ride kept rotating and you slowly moved closer to the bottom.

“I’m not laughing at you, babe, but the noises you are making are fricking hilarious.” His voice still held the chuckle as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and you responded with another squeak of shock as you started rising again.

Making it to the top again, you were waiting for it to hit its peak and for the relief of lowering the cart to begin, but instead there was a shudder before the ride stopped. “What’s going on, what’s going on, why are we stopped? Oh god we are about to die, fuck, shit, I don’t wanna die.”

“Babe, calm down, someone below us is getting off so they had to stop the ride for a bit. Remember when we had to get on? Same thing probably happened to someone else.” You nodded your head and just stared ahead to the tops of the trees you never thought you would have seen.

“It’s...it’s not too bad up here.” You finally mutter after a few beats of silence and getting your bearings. “I wouldn’t want to stay up here, but it does look nice.” Steve hummed in agreement and pulled you a little closer. “Hey Stevie?”

“Hmm?” He responded looking down at you.

“Thanks, tonight was fun.”

His face broke out into a grin again at your thanks. “Of course, thanks for giving a few of these rides a chance.” Smiling up at him, you sat a little straighter and caught his lips with your own, the two of you humming to the other that you were happy with your evening.

Though it was not as long as Steve would have wanted to stay in that moment with you (the ride started again and you broke away with another shriek), but he wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything else in his life.

#steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve #stranger things season 2 #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things season 3 #stranger things #joe keery

[sylviegirlfriend]

Hey, I know this is oddly specific, but I was wondering if I could request a Tony Stark x reader (hurt/comfort and angst) story where Tony and the reader are in a recently established relationship, but what Tony finds out is that the reader has a really abusive mother, and the reader is embarrassed, but can’t hide it much longer when the stress becomes unbearable.

that’s such a great theme! Love it! Thanks for your request, enjoy your imagine with our amazing Iron Man, the one and only!

*Oops, just forgot to mention this imagine is gender neutral, sooo... no need to thank me! ;)*

Any requests? Just ask or send me a message! I’ll write one for you!

WARNING: This imagine contains a very sensitive theme, so if your going through a thing like this, just know you’re not alone, it’s going to be okay, and if you want to talk, my messages are open for you.

Enjoy!

Holding Out For a Hero | Tony Stark x Reader

You could get used to the fact that you were dating Iron Man.

Even if reporters paid a lot of attention at events, or when you guys sloshed down the street and forgot to always be hidden, Tony was the most amazing boyfriend in the world, and you definitely couldn't pick a better person. He always made a point of treating you well, as if you were the only gem in his little world.

But your biggest problem, despite the happiness of being dating Iron Man, was the relationship it triggered with your mother. It wasn't like that before things were going well between you guys, but ever since Tony had come to your house for dinner after a shift at Stark Industries, your mother has treated you... different, shall we say.

She keeps rubbing it in your face that you must marry Tony, that you must be happy because you would inherit some of the money he kept 'under the mattress' anyway. 

She made it look like you were using Tony to get rich. But it wasn't like that.

The thought of the fact that you were using Tony to get your way up in life hurt your head more than you could imagine, and your mom seemed to be right, after all, it made sense that you were using a rich guy as a bridge.

And Tony didn't deserve it.

* * *

“Agent (Y\LN), I'm glad you made it!”, Tony greeted you almost immediately as soon as you set foot in the Tower. "I have some important appointments with the staff, can you take care of the tower for me?" 

You smiled, shrugging. "Of course, it doesn't seem like a problem." 

“Perfect!” he smiled too. "I couldn't have chosen a better person." 

When Tony walked away, you ducked into his technologies and stood there, hoping you didn't think about your mother's words so it wouldn't get in your way for the rest of the shift, but it didn't do much good. Looking at all that and thinking how rich your boyfriend was hit you like a sword thrust and made you feel terrible.

“Good morning, (Y\NN)”, Happy wished as he passed you. A weird sound came out of your mouth, and before you could fix it, it was too late. “You look down, what happened? Did you fight with Tony, did you?” 

“No,” you replied in a firm voice. “I'm not down, Happy. Not." 

Tony's driver shrugged, walking past you again with that carefree gait, not noticing that you've buried your head in the computer keyboard and let a few tears lubricate Stark Industries' dirty technology.

* * *

"DARLING, I'M HOME!"

You accompanied Tony discarding his Iron Man armor. He was all bruised, a broken eyebrow, but he didn't seem to need that much help. He smiled in her direction and took her arms to wrap them around his neck as if sensing her unwillingness to do so. Then Tony gave you an affectionate peck.

“How was your day, honey?” he whispered. “I brought an x-burger, do you want it now?” he asked, but you just shook your head. "Okay, I hope Happy hasn't given you too much trouble, um ..."  

For the first time that day, you laughed.

“ I assure you he was amazing, very competent,” your voice was whispery, just so he wouldn't notice you were crying before he arrived. "Want me to take care of your bruises, dear?" 

“No, I'm fine, I just need a break…” he replied, stepping away from you carefully as you turned to follow him. Suddenly, before you could get in Tony, her cell phone rang. His eyes drifted to the viewfinder, but as soon as you saw who it was, you ignored it. “Aren't you going to answer it?”, your boyfriend's voice woke you from your reverie. 

"It is not necessary."

He stared at you intently. “Is everything alright, love? You look weird.” 

You didn't answer, just turned away so you didn't have to look at him again. You knew it was going to hurt, and she hoped Tony was out of sight so you could answer the phone without him overhearing the conversation directly.

"Hello?"

“Good thing, isn't it (Y\N)? I thought you were going to hang up in your mother's face.”

"I was... on work shift... I didn't hear the phone ring."

"I know...", you heard her laugh on the other side. "How's your sugar daddy doing ?" 

"MOTHER!" her voice was too high and shrill for anyone to hear. "He's not my sugar daddy, I told you to stop it, I love Tony." 

"Oh, what a beautiful thing, my baby is learning to invent stories, disguise feelings... you can start working with that friend of yours, Romanoff, you two lie better than me."

“Don't talk about Nat,” you snapped in desperation. “And I'm not lying. I love him, Mom. AND ONLY YOU ARE BORING ENOUGH NOT TO SEE IT AND THINK THAT I'M INTERESTED IN THE MONEY HE HAS TO OFFER ME!" 

“LISTEN HERE, YOU KNOW I'M YOUR MOTHER, DON'T YOU KNOW?” Her voice came out even louder, and now anyone could hear it in the Tower. "AND AS I AM YOUR MOTHER, I KNOW WHAT IS BEST FOR YOU, AND I DON'T ADMIT YOU TO ANSWER ME THAT WAY, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" 

"I think I'm too old for you to say what I should and shouldn't do."

Your mother laughed on the other side. "Did you see? What a shame. If you keep this up, Stark won't stay with you for long. His personality is quite strong, and two strong personalities don't get along in the same house.” 

"He loves me. And I love him…” you felt the tears come down your face in full force now. "And what you tell me can't change that, I think." 

Without waiting for her to respond, you hung up the phone quickly, then dropped to your knees under the table, feeling overcome by a wave of inexplicable anger that probably wouldn't pass any time soon.

But you didn't realize that Tony had been there all along, and when you passed out from stress and aggravations that also had to do with the mother-daughter relationship, he was the one who held you and kept you steady in his arms.

* * *

When you woke up, it was dark. The room itself was dark and not even the light from the window illuminated the room anymore. After all, it was cold, and Tony had provided a blanket so you wouldn't be cold when you woke up.

The bedroom door creaked a little before opening, and you turned, feeling your head boil. Tony walked in calmly, carrying a tray with a burger and a glass of orange juice for you. He looked around the room and smiled when he saw you awake.

“You finally woke up,” he whispered. "I thought you'd wake up hungry, so I brought you something to swallow and renew your energy." 

"Oh...thanks," your voice was rather weak, and when Tony had finished setting the tray on the bedroom desk, he sat beside her on the bed, touching her left foot from under the blanket.

"You scared me, you know?"

"Sorry. I haven't eaten anything all day.”

“Is it because of your mother?” he asked carefully. “ It is, isn't it?” 

“Did you hear the call?” you snapped, your voice trembling. He stopped moving his feet so he could hold his hands. "You weren't supposed to listen, I'm sorry." 

“You're apologizing for nothing, agent (Y\LN)…” Tony smiled. “But you could have warned me earlier that your mom acted like that to you, you know? I would know how to help you in these moments.” 

"I didn't want to make it look like I was holding out for a hero."

Iron Man cupped her face with one hand, rubbing her cheek lightly. 

“Tony, I know you heard about me wanting to be with you for money, but that's not true. It was something my mother invented to devalue me, as she always did.”

"Don't worry, I know you would never be able to."

"He knows? As you know?"

“Let's say…” he sighed, now not looking at you. “Throughout my partying career, many women spent a night of their lives with me praising me for having a steady budget. And they always have the same speech, (Y\NN), a speech you don't have.” 

You smiled, blushing slightly. 

“And even if you wanted to be with me for my money, I wouldn't mind. What I wanted you to understand is that I love you and that nothing, not even anyone's opinion can change that, right?”, he moved closer, stopping touching her face to get close to her lips. "I want to marry you, I want to travel with you, I want to have children with you, and after everything, we've been through, do you think I still don't love you?" 

You shook your head. "I think I'm going to cut off my mother." 

“No, no, honey, don't do that,” he said. “Tomorrow, I'll personally come to your house, and I'll have a talk with your mom, okay?” Tony stroked your hair. "She needs this lesson, and now that I know everything that's been going on, I'm going to make sure she doesn't hurt you physically, verbally, or mentally, right?"  

Your eyes sparkled. Tony gave you a quick peck before hugging you and snuggling your head against his chest, right next to the cold reactor in which his heartbeat was compulsive.

"I love you, my hero."

"Love you too, three thousand."

#tony stark x reader #tony stark #marvel #mcu #imagine #oneshot #iron man #avengers #romance #drama #request

[utterlyinevitable]

Can u do a headcanon or fic as part 2 for that mc has a musical talent one where ethan gets a keyboard for her birthday?😊

For anon, @thegreentwin and @lucy-268 ❤

Read Part 1 here. 

Music & Secrets (Part 2)

Ethan and Bryce arrived at Odette and the gang’s shabby, yet homely, garden apartment early. They came separately but showed up together. Well, actually, Ethan made it to the building’s front door 2 minutes before his gym acquaintance. The attending was struggling to type in the code, open the door, and balance the birthday gift all at once. Bryce noticed Ethan’s struggle and jogged to help him get through the front door, offering to share the weight of the juggled present teetering in his arms.   

Ethan gratefully relented as the two most important men in Odette’s life navigated through the corridors to the familiar, ajar apartment door. 

“Dirty 30!” Bryce exclaimed ceremoniously over the expertly wrapped package he helped Ethan haul into the apartment. 

The roommates looked to Bryce, to Ethan, then down to the ridiculously long gift wrapped in duck egg blue and white stripped paper with a comically dainty bow placed in the uppermost corner. 

“Why’s it so big!?” Elijah asked, deep brown eyes gleaming at the possibilities.

Bryce shrugged and plopped his side of the weighted rectangular object onto the scuffed wood floor carefully. He bounded over to the kitchen to peck Odette on the cheek and grab a beer from the fridge, making himself right at home like always. 

Now left alone, hovering in the foyer, Ethan took to placing the package carefully against the wall, then busying himself by rubbing his palms down the front of his button down shirt to expel any creases. It’s not like he hasn’t interacted with this group of colleagues before - they’ve got to know one another rather well over the last two years - but there was something different about being one of the carefully selected individuals invited to their home for a party. 

Not just any party. 

Odette’s birthday party.  

Never had they celebrated a milestone together before. 

As Ethan shifted in place he wondered if he really should be here, if he should have really gotten such an ostentatious gift. She didn’t ask for it - what if it was a mistake? 

Should’ve just gotten a card and some flowers. Lahela’s gift fit in the pocket of his jacket. That’s more representative of our friendship. Right? 

Before Ethan could run a marathon of doubt Odette moved to greet him, eyeing the parcel resting to his right, then looking him up and down - noting how something about him was uncharacteristically shy. They - Odette, the gang, and Ethan - have worked together for over three years, at the very least they were all pub friends, there was no reason why he should feel so out of place in such a warm, loving, environment.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said softly with a private smile as soon she she was situated a mere two steps before him. 

Just like the calming salt-filled breeze wafting off the Bay and up to his balcony, the air around Odette had Ethan’s rigid shoulders rounding, jaw loosening, entire body enraptured. 

“I know.” 

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. 

Their eyes - deep azure and sparking emerald - met, speaking volumes they wouldn’t dare say out loud. The animalistic side of him fought to ogle her in that new strappy turquoise dress that accentuated her long legs and curvy waist, fabric pleating effortlessly around her salaciously round hips, and - dear god - the bodice fitted all too well and Ethan would need to swallow the offending lump forming in his throat. The overbearing, and commanding part of Ethan Ramsey fixated on her naturally painted features, waiting for one of them to make the next move.  

Sienna got there first, breaking the moment the two diagnosticians were having. “What is it!?”

Ethan took a half step back and made a motion to the present with an invitingly raised brow. Odette’s eyes glowed a shade of enticing light green Ethan had never seen before. That in itself was worth it; he convinced himself in that moment that her reaction to the actual object could not supersede the bemused and satisfied lightness he was feeling right now. 

Odette couldn’t help herself. Her hands reached the paper even before her feet could follow. Dropping to her knees, filed nails tore the wrapping paper right off as unladylike as possible - not a single care for the purposefully chosen decoration. 

She’d only gotten a fifth of the way through before she recognized the logo on the box underneath and froze in place. 

No. It couldn’t be. 

Odette’s neck craned ever so slowly, turning to Ethan who’s lips pulled into the most genuine smile she’s ever seen on him. 

She had no words; mauve painted lips parted, only the most necessary of breaths leaving her lungs, emeralds glassing over. She knew Ethan was wealthy and enjoyed spending money on those in his life. But this was too much. 

Much too much of a gift for a good friend. 

Odette turned back to the most thoughtful gift she’s ever received. Her jaw slacked further and her big eyes barely blinked as she gawped at it. 

“Shall I place this in your room?” 

All Odette could do was nod. 

Ethan helped her back onto her feet before lifting the package and making his way down the corridor he’d gotten accustomed to over the last few years. Late nights and nightcaps spent in the living room, and early mornings he’d stop by to force her out of bed for a case or to join him for the rest of his jog.

When he was out of sight and most certainly hearing range, the gaggle of doctors shared the exact same look. Sienna the only one to whisper-exclaim; “Oh my god!” through her grin. 

Odette bit her lip, not sure of what to make of the moment. Her thoughts were blank, yet her chest was fluttering faster than she could keep count. She glanced between all her friends’ elated and encouraging faces for any semblance of the explanation she was too stunned to come up with. The only sentiment she found was an astounding wordless command: Go with him! 

Odette rose her brows. Took a deep breath. Then turned on the balls of her bare feet, making her way to her bedroom where her dearest friend was waiting. 

Before rounding the corner to her open bedroom, Odette took one more cleansing breath and shook her head. There was no reason to feel so discombobulated; this is Ethan! 

They’ve been through so much and have become the closest of friends. Why is she getting knots in her stomach and a lightness in her chest at the thought of being alone with him right now? 

When she entered, Ethan was sat at the edge of her bed, hunched over with forearms resting on his thighs, intently reading through the assembly instructions. His baby blues were squinted and she could pick out nearly all of the lines and divots usually carefully masked with his signature stoic expression. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at the sight. 

“You should start carrying your readers, old man.” He was only a few months shy of the big 4-0. 

“I wouldn’t need to if they didn’t print it impossibly small.” 

She sauntered over and gently snatched the booklet from his hands. Her eyes roamed over the packet. And of course; 

“You’ve got a point.” 

She handed the booklet back to him, her attention caught by the fully opened box propped up next to her pillows. The ivory-looking keys glittered back at her, and the fifteen year old prodigy she thought she’d long suppressed begged to break free. 

Ethan couldn’t help but watch her ogle the object. Her freshly painted fingers barely grazing the keys as if she’s afraid or shocked or... he’s not really sure what to make of it. All he knew was that she was holding herself up straighter than five minutes ago. 

“Is this the right one? The saleswoman said it’s the perfect compact option that doesn’t compromise on quality.”

There was a bated pause. Only a beat before she responded - thought he knew her well enough to know her mind was elsewhere than she’d let on. 

“It’s perfect,” the words came out breathy. Odette tore her eyes from the piano to smile at him, “Just unexpected.” 

The two of them spent the next forty minutes building the keyboard stand with the allen key Ethan absolutely detested, and the foldable stool she had to scower around for the tiny toolbox her older brother made sure she kept on hand. Then eventually they cleared some space from under her window so she could bask in the natural light while playing to her hearts content. 

Ethan put on the final touches by pinning back her curtains for a better view of the small plot of greenery her bedroom was fortunate to overlook. He took a step back to be at her side. The two of them admiring how the dark colors of the keyboard contrasted with the whites of her minimal décor, yet looked so perfectly at home - like it was always meant to be there. 

Like it was always meant to be in her life. 

Funny how that thought crept up on him. It’s exactly how Ethan felt about Odette. He may have adamantly refused her friendship their first 15-months, but he always knew she was special. For a man that didn’t believe in higher powers, that .01% has come to accept his need for her in his life. 

He’d never know she feels the same way about him. 

With the grand gesture illuminated by the mid-autumn rays, Odette took a magnetic step forward. Sitting down on the stool, her hips wiggled in the seat to test out its comfort level. Satisfied, her fingers began hovering a waltz over the keys, still so hesitant to touch them. It’s been nearly a decade since she’s last let her emotions wistfully speak for her. 

“Go on, try it out.” Ethan’s gentle baritone cadence urged, knowing she’s dying to without her having to say it. She had that look on her face that he knew all too well - that glassy, dazed expression that meant her mind was moving faster than her muscles could comprehend. 

Odette’s front teeth sunk into her lip, angling herself away from him as much as possible and wishing she didn’t ask Sienna to put her hair into an artistic bun. This would be so much easier if her bleached blonde locks could curtain her from her onlooker.  

Ethan stepped back to sit on her bed and give her space.

She took another breath. Shallower this time as the fear, excitement and desperation began to culminate in her fingertips. 

The pad of her thumb grazed E, the ivory warm to the touch and the sensation not as distanced as she expected. Even though she hadn’t elicited a single sound from the instrument the key rang in her ears. Her other hand came into place. A single cord beckoned for her attention. Odette pressed lightly, enough for the note to sing from the speakers. Her lips turned upwards. Every new touch coaxed out such sounds that drowned out the rest of the world. Her eyes fluttered shut as the sounds began vibrating off her walls. This room never felt more like home.   

And, soon, she began to play. 

From memory.

The song she’d have ingrained within her bones forever - the song she demoed that led to her development and publishing deal. 

A song Ethan couldn’t place. Didn’t know the tune. A crooked smirk was pulled from him at the thought of her writing something this beautiful. He’s been in awe of Odette Hall for as long as he’s known her, and watching her - getting to experience this secretive side of her - Ethan couldn’t find the appropriate phrase in his elaborate vocabulary to accurately explain just how awestruck he was right now. How he adored everything about her. How he couldn’t fathom never witnessing her play or never solving a case with her ever again. 

And as he leaned back on her box spring bed, fingers fisting in the floral patterned duvet and his deep azure eyes hypnotized by his life’s most incredible surprise, he wanted to know so much more.

And as the melody reached the living room, the good-natured group of third-year residents conspired to set a plan in motion.

________________________________________

A/N: In this world, Ethan and MC aren’t and never have dated. Maybe in canon she was on the Raf route? idk. But E and MC have been strictly platonic for three years and the feelings have been growing. Hence the really thoughtful piano and why she trusts him with her secrets more than her friends. They’ve got an attachment and mild codependence brewing ☺

I’m not planning on making this a series but can be persuaded to do another part if y’all want 😅

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#Anonymous #asked #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart

[ot3tropetober]

Fic: A Bushel And A Peck

AU:  Eliot runs an apple orchard. @aimlessglee  [AO3]

“What the hell is this?” Eliot asked, but he took the folder Hardison was handing him.

“Flavor,” Hardison said. “Background. Worldbuilding. Just read it, okay? I spend a lot of damn time on these aliases. You need to know who you are if we have to deploy them.”

Eliot flipped through the file. “Why is there a picture of me holding a basket of apples?”

“Just read it!” Hardison said.

Jeremiah Atherton, Jem to absolutely everyone or suffer the consequences, stood at the booth at the entrance to his family’s orchard. Momma and Pops had finally taken the plunge and bought a place down in Florida for the winter. The days were still sunlit and warm, but the nights were getting nippy, and they’d headed south a few weeks ago, promising to be back in the spring. They’d earned it, he thought. He smiled at the pretty blonde beside him - he’d known Heather since they were kids, even babysat her a few times when their parents went out and did stuff together. She made the best apple cider doughnuts in the county, and her pies were melt-in-your-mouth good. Their families had worked together a long time. It was a solid partnership, kind of part of his inheritance, and only he knew if he had a couple of soft thoughts about her every one in a while.

“Is that supposed to be Parker?” Eliot asked.

“Yes, it’s Parker,” Hardison said.

“Apple orchard, huh,” Eliot said. “Kinda…not very tough. Why can’t I run cattle?”

“Damn, Eliot, do you know the kind of effort it takes to keep a small operation running in this economy?” Hardison scowled. “Cows take care of themselves. Trees don’t. Also you can’t run cattle like that in New England.”

“Huh,” Eliot said, and went back to the file.

“Think it’s gonna be a good weekend?” Jem asked her.

Heather grinned. “It’s always a good weekend in the orchard.” She gestured around her. “Sun’s out. Nice and cool. People are gonna come pick a ton of apples and eat a bunch of doughnuts.”

“And they’ll drink cider,” Jem told her, hefting a gallon jug in each hand. “Don’t forget about the cider.”

“I never could,” Heather promised.

“It’s farm fresh,” he said.

“Honey, I know,” she said, putting her hand over his. “Why do you think I started making doughnuts? I wanted to get out of cider pressing.”

“‘Scuse me,” somebody said. They looked up to see a very tall, very handsome Black man dressed in a v-neck sweater that clung to the muscles of his chest, an expensive coat, and a scarf.

“Uh huh,” Eliot said. I see you.“

"What?” Hardison asked, all innocence.

“Hey, man, what can I do for you?” Jem said.

“I’m here to pick apples,” the guy said. “I kinda thought that was what people did here?”

“Weren’t you here last weekend?” Heather asked suddenly. She leaned her elbow on the counter and cupped her chin in her hand. “You were. You bought a dozen doughnuts and a half-gallon of cider.”

The guy smiled at her. “Good memory. I was, and I did. But you make a couple of pies and a batch of applesauce and boom, you need more apples.”

“And the weekend before that,” Heather said.

“I…like apples?” the guy said.

“We should make you a punch card or something,” Jem teased. “Tell you what.” He took one of the orchard’s business cards from a rack and scribbled on the back of it. “Come four weekends and I’ll give you a free peck the fifth time.” He held out the card, and the guy took it and looked at it fondly before he tucked it in his pocket.

“Deal,” the guy said.

“Take a doughnut,” Heather urged, wrapping one in a napkin as Jem pulled a basket off the stack and put it on the counter. “On me. You’ll need your energy.”

“Thanks,” the guy said. He smiled at them as he took the basket and the doughnut.

“Hey, man, what’s your name?” Jem called.

“Alistair,” the guy said. “Alistair Weaver.”

“What are you in this fantasy, some kind of fancy city lawyer?” Eliot asked.

“Well, yeah,” Hardison said. “That’s kind of how it works.”

Alistair did come back the next weekend, and then the weekend after that. They had a nice conversation every time Alistair showed up at the booth, which he did more and more often, coming back for a refreshing glass of cider or one of Heather’s sandwiches or a bag of cinnamon almonds. Jem found he was looking forward to seeing him. This time, Alistair was in a more casual outfit: a fleece and fitted jeans. He looked good, sophisticated in a kind of way Jem couldn’t pull off.

“Can’t resist that free peck, huh?” Jem teased.

“Not when you’ve got the best apples in the state,” Alistair said, and grinned.

“Did you know a peck can also be a quick kiss?” Heather said suddenly. “Usually on the cheek, but sometimes on the lips.” They both looked at her.

“She’s just kind of like that,” Jem told Alistair. “Says things.”

“I get it,” Alistair said.

“He owes you a peck,” Heather insisted. “Come on, Jemothy. Cough up.”

“That’s not my name,” Jem mumbled.

“Hey, if it’ll make you happy,” Alistair said. He leaned over the counter and presented his cheek to Jem.

“Uh,” Jem said.

“We’ll both do it,” Heather said. “Ready, Jem?” She pushed herself up on the counter and gave Alistair a dry little kiss on the cheek. Jem didn’t move.

“I get it,” Alistair said, winking at Jem. “You’re a big talker. You talk the talk, but you don’t peck the peck.”

“I do,” Jem insisted, and he leaned in and gave Alistair a quick kiss, barely brushing his lips over Alistair’s warm, freshly shaved skin. Alistair smelled really good, honestly. It kinda made Jem tingly inside. He wanted to press his nose against Alistair’s neck and just breathe him in.

“Now that’s customer service,” Alistair said. He took his basket and the doughnut Heather had insisted on giving him again. He grinned at them. “See you in a couple of hours.”

“A guy like that doesn’t drive out from the city every weekend just because he likes our apples,” Heather told him. “He likes you.”

“Maybe he likes you,” Jem said.

Heather shrugs. “Everybody likes me. He likes you especially. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Jem squinted at her. “I don’t think so.” But he was definitely waiting for Alistair to come back, he realized, as he weighed people’s baskets of apples and took their money. His heart jumped around a little when he saw Alistair approaching, or maybe that was his stomach. He’d stress-eaten a couple of doughnuts between customers. He snuck a glance at Heather, but she was busy, thank heavens. He’d had enough of her help for one day.

“Hey, man,” he said as Alistair handed the basket over.

“Hey yourself,” Alistair said, smiling sweetly. Jem ducked his face to hide the fact that he was blushing a little. Alistair leaned on the counter. “About earlier…I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. Seemed like kind of a joke between you and Heather, you know? I was just trying to play along.”

“What, the kiss?” Jem said airily, pretending like it hadn’t meant anything to him. “Nah. Heather’s like that. She likes to meddle. Don’t ever play Truth or Dare with her. I’ll give you that one for free.”

“Oh, that was a kiss to you?” Alistair joked. “Damn, I guess it’s a good thing I never asked for your number.”

“No, it wasn’t…” Jem started and then squinted at Alistair. “I gave you my number. It’s on the business card. You could have called any time. If, uh, you wanted to call. For whatever reason.”

“I didn’t think that was your personal number,” Alistair said. “Besides, I was kind of busy this week. Had to rush to finish all the work for a big trial so I could come out here today. Then I find out if I did call you and ask you out, the kiss I’m gonna get at the end of the date is a peck on the cheek.”

“That’s not how I kiss,” Jem protested.

Alistair raised one eyebrow and smirked.

“Not on a date, anyway,” Jem mumbled. He felt half-hypnotized by the warmth in Alistair’s deep voice and dark eyes.

“Tell you what,” Alistair said. “I’ll come back next week and you can prove it. When does the orchard close?”

“Seven,” Jem said.

Alistair nodded. “I’ll make reservations for eight. Where’s good around here?”

“My place,” Jem said boldly. “Not a better cook in the county.”

“It’s a date,” Alistair said. He checked his watch. “Hey, let me pay you for those apples.” Jem startled out of his daze and started bagging them up.

“You leaving already?” Heather said, finally disentangled from her customers. She started putting doughnuts and a half-dozen hand pies into a box. “Aww, Alistair. I feel like I barely saw you.”

“Don’t you worry,” Alistair said. “I’ll see you both next weekend.” He took the apples and the bakery box and handed over some cash.

“Y'ain’t that slick, ace,” Eliot said, but he said it fondly. He reached over and patted Hardison’s knee.

“You wanna put together the aliases, be my guest,” Hardison said, tapping at his keyboard and frowning at his screen. He softened up enough to smile at Eliot.

The date went well. Really well, actually. Jem had made dessert to go with the simple bread and stew he’d prepared, but dessert had to wait while he proved to Alistair that hell yeah, he kissed better than a peck on the cheek. Alistair made it back to his AirBnB that night, but after the next couple of weekends, he stopped bothering to book one, and they started waking up cuddled together on crisp Sunday mornings. Honestly, their relationship was pretty perfect: Alistair worked in the city in the week and came out on the weekends. Sometimes he even helped in the orchard, though operations were winding down and Jem was shifting to pumpkins, the corn maze, and hay rides, motorized and unmotorized.

“It’s not like work at all,” he said, standing in the front booth with Heather while Jem tinkered around in the engine of the old farm truck they used for hay rides sometimes. “Work is all research and computers and suits and yelling. This is peaceful. There’s fresh air. People are happy to see me.”

“I’m happy to see you,” Heather told him. He put his arm around her companionably. Jem grinned at both of them. He looked down at his stomach.

“Aw, hell,” he said. “Got grease all over my t-shirt.” He shrugged off his overshirt and reached down and stripped off his t-shirt. He put his overshirt back on and started to do up the buttons.

“WAIT,” Heather yelled. She ran to the house and came back with a glass, which she filled with cider and handed to Jem. “Alistair! Do you have your phone on you? Take a picture!”

“Way ahead of you, H,” Alistair said, coming up and crouching. “Jem, baby, strike a pose on that hay bale.”

“This is dumb,” Jem said.

“It’s absolutely not,” Alistair said. “I’ve got a buddy in advertising and we’re gonna use this to make an ad campaign for the orchard. Double your business easy.”

“We’re going to sell so much cider!” Heather said excitedly, clasping her hands together.

“Now that’s too much,” Eliot said.

“You wanna see the cider ad campaign or not?” Hardison asked.

“…yeah,” Eliot said.

“Back page,” Hardison said, still staring into his screen. Eliot flipped through. He had to admit, Hardison had done a hell of a job. He didn’t remember lying half-shirtless on a hay bale at any point, but looking at the photos, maybe he’d just forgotten. Hardison asked him to do a lot of stuff that seemed foolish at the time, and Eliot tried to forget it.

“Are we gonna use this any time soon?” he asked.

“You never know,” Hardison said mysteriously.

“I know,” Parker said, coming down from the ceiling. “And I like it. So maybe.”

“Well,” Eliot said. “Could be worse.”

“I know you know how good you’ve got it,” Hardison told him.

“Really good,” Parker agreed.

“Really good,” Eliot said, nodding along. He grinned at them. “The best.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Parker told him. “Let’s go find some cider doughnuts. I need to know what those are.”

“Let’s do it,” Eliot said, and together they pried Hardison away from his computer and went to find an orchard.

#au: apple orchard #ot3tropetober

[mementomori-demimonde]

Hidden Scars

I - II - III

Chapter 4

The edge of the table presses uncomfortably against your hip bones. You wish for something softer to cover its surface because the marble is becoming uncomfortable as you half-lay on your stomach and elbows on the table, fingers tapping frenziedly over the keyboard of Miranda’s laptop.

“Keep concentrated.” Her voice is luscious coming from behind you. You’re vaguely aware of her breath licking your ear, but you’re very much aware, instead, of her fingers stroking insistently at your bare core.

You wince when she nudges ever-so-lightly at your slit, her intention to tease you painfully blatant as your body shudders in need of simply anything more than that.

You clench your jaw and continue to tap, struggling to conserve the little bit of dignity it’s left not to actually push back to meet her hand and provide yourself the friction you crave: you’re already exposed enough like it is without making your desire obvious - shirt inched up right below your breasts, pants, and knickers pushed down and wrapping at your ankles like a makeshift rope that keeps you steady and trapped.

Of course, your efforts to conceal your needs are useless. You know too well that she’s aware; Miranda wouldn’t be teasing so much if she wouldn’t know.

“Is this really- really necessary?” You try to reason, choosing to take the long way to beg her to stop, imagining she won’t be exactly pleased with you actually implore her to let you concentrate on the task she’s assigned without further distractions - especially this kind of distraction.

Miranda, however, lets out a breathy chuckle and the answer she gives you leaves a very poor margin to hope for some mercy.

“I need you to test your abilities with a drunken mind.” She explains. “Your reactiveness with a body that doesn’t exactly follow your orders.”

You whimper when her fingers glide over your folds and you feel your cheeks growing hot because you know you’re drenched by now.

You tap away on the keyboard, trying to remember all the codes you’ve learned, but your hand slips when she pinches you - and you know she’s done it on purpose right now - and the screen turns black before your eyes.

Access denied.

You groan in frustration, Miranda leans closer to you and you feel her legs press behind you, her body framing yours when she leans in, her hand fisting your hair with a gentle grip. She tilts your face to the side, you feel her hot breath fanning your neck and ear.

“Stay focused.” She purrs in your ear.

You scoff: like she’s making it easy.

Drawing a long, quivering breath to expand your lungs, you restart all over again, and, soon enough, you begin to tap on the keyboard again, string after string of codes being written on the screen. You think you’re almost done when she nudges your legs apart with her foot. You swallow, your tapping slows down but doesn’t stop and you spread your legs as far as you can, wincing when more weight lands on your stomach and elbows.

You remind yourself to stay focused, that you’re almost there, but once again, when you’re close to solving the enigma, Miranda pushes effortlessly, curving her finger immediately to probe at a particularly sensitive spot.

Your eyes flutter close on their own accord and, before writing some flawed code, you lift both of your hands from the keyboard, balling them.

“I thought you’d appreciate this method.” Her nails scrape deliciously at your scalp. “But if you prefer, we can use actual drugs to simulate a frenzied mind and an uncooperative body, instead of this.”

You know you should answer yes. The very purpose of all those games is to put you in strange situations and see how you react - drugs would be used, sex it’s unlikely; not impossible of course, but unlikely.

You know you should answer yes and prove you’re committed to whatever she’s trying to teach you, but her hand feels too good and you know you’d mourn her absence. If you say yes to the drugs, she’d probably kiss your shoulder and praise you for your bravery, give you a shot and then go sit on her armchair and enjoy watching your struggle.

You know you should say yes, but you crave her.

“No.”

You hate how your voice sound, strangled and thin, and you force your eyes open, cursing the vicious trembling of your hands when Miranda kiss the shell of your ear and, simultaneously, adds a second finger that is supposed to be a reward but that, in reality, is just torture. A delicious one, but still torture.

“Good girl, just as I thought.”

She strokes at your insides without a rhythm, your mind clouded and your nether muscles clenching and twitching without even the faint possibility to chase an actual release. Miranda keeps teasing when she rests her chin above your shoulder and you’re vaguely aware that she’s smirking as she looks at the computer screen.

You know you’ve written something wrong, but you don’t know what. You type away the last string of codes and press enter.

Access denied.

You’re not even surprised, this time.

Your eyes flutter close and your head lolls forward when she thrusts further up to her knuckles, her teeth sinking into your neck hard enough to bruise.

“I will try again.” You mutter, begging your knees to not give up just yet. “I can do it.” You state confidently.

Miranda tuts disapprovingly in your ear.

“Dead.” She whispers. “You’ve taken too long and now you’re dead.” She mocks, pecking a small kiss on the apple of your cheek.

You whimper at the loss of her fingers when she pulls out of you. You think she’s done with you for the day, that she’ll send you to your room and lock you inside with another of those boring volumes until you’ve learned all the sequences by heart, instead she fists at the back of your shirt and pulls you on your feet.

You look puzzled for a moment, then she grabs your hips with a bruising force and spins you around, only to haul you effortlessly on the top of the table, the marble harsh a cold under your bare bottom. You’re conscious of the slickness between your thighs and you wonder if she’s made enough mess for you to leave evidence on the table; you wince and squirm when you accept the idea that it’s very likely and your arousal is probably dripping already.

You push your hands and grip the edge of the table for stability, but you don’t have much time more to do anything else before she ducks just enough to make quick work of tugging your pants and underwear away, throwing the crumpled clothes on the floor into a shapeless mass.

Before you can even utter her name, she’s between your parted legs. Hooking one of her hands in the collar of your shirt, she tugs you in and claims your mouth, her tongue dauntless in demanding passage. You match her movements with your own, suckling and nibbling to complete her motions, and you’re wondering which one of you is actually making those soft noises when her free hand comes to cup you mercilessly, two of her fingers, still slick from you, deftly finding their previous placement and settling where they belong. Miranda curls and probes, angling her arm just in the right way so that the heel of her hands hits where you need her most. She sets a punishing pace, and you can only follow her with the rocking of your hips, scooting closer to the edge of the table with each sway, if only to stay closer.

You’re vaguely aware of your knees squeezing her waist or the heels of your feet digging into the back of her thighs, too far gone in chasing the much-promised peak to wash away the discomfort of your twitching nerves.

You might be dead, in her imaginary scenario, but if that’s true, then her skilled fingers and her tongue are making you ascent straight to Heaven.

And yet, is she really going to reward you with a climax after you failed to complete the task? Or is she going to build it, lead you so close with hands caressing your body inside and out like a sweet prayer, only to take it away from you at the very last moment? If she’s planning to do that, with all the teasing she’s done, you know it’s going to hurt. You don’t want it to hurt.

“You know I’m going to take it away.” She smirks, her breath fanning your lips, a dangerous shadow flashing through her eyes.

She pushes further, stills for a moment and you feel hot tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Should you beg? Or act tough and own the soreness already spreading everywhere in your body?

“I didn’t break into the system.” You manage to croak out, your voice right in between a wheeze and a pitiful moan. “I don’t deserve it.”

For a moment, her face softens. The tip of her tongue runs on the edge of her teeth, her thin lips bent into a smile - she seems amused.

“But I do.” She counters, then kisses your swollen lips, cocking her head back when you try to return it, your hips rocking on their own volition as you search for her. Magnanimously, Miranda takes the cue and the heel of her hand presses deliciously against you. “And imagine, solving your next riddle while you’re still a panting mess, unable to understand when one wave stops and the other begins, asking for a mercy I won’t bestow.”

So that is her plan: cloud your mind completely with something close - if not plain - overstimulation. The ache you’re feeling right now is nothing compared to what she’s promising.

Miranda scissors her fingers without much warning and with a couple of expert thrusts you’re crushing over the edge with her voice echoing in your mind - a prayer, promise, a curse, a punishment... you’re not entirely sure.

Your forehead meets her shoulder as your wither, clinging to her as she helps you ride the waves of pleasure that teether already toward pain.

Before it’s over, you wait for her to turn you over like a ragdoll, her fingers still buried deep within you, you wait for her to press you down the table again, while you struggle to fulfill the task, fighting pleasure and pain in equal measure, her sween, throaty laughter vibrating from her chest.

Instead, Miranda softens her motions, you feel her lips in your hair, kissing your head soothingly.

You whimper at the emptiness she leaves behind when she steps away. You watch her, frowning questioningly, your eyes never leaving hers as she peers into you, never diverting her gaze. She smirks, she winks.

Like there’s no big deal, she brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks them clean of your arousal, then wipes away the dampness with a cloth.

You blink in utter confusion, the casual gesture triggers something within you but it's also an unsettling contrast with her previous threats.

You open your mouth to ask for some explanation, but almost immediately you close it when she steps back, approaching you.

Suddenly aware of your state, you shut your legs and wince at the slickness you feel between your thighs.

“Oh don’t pout, m’eudail.” She purrs, placing her hands right on your knees, but she doesn’t nudge your legs apart like you thought she would. Instead, she leans in, licks your bottom lip. “I’m not done playing with you.”

You swallow thickly.

Miranda smiles, and reaches behind you. She slams the laptop close and tuckles it under her arm, striding confidently toward the window. She puts it right in front of it, on the floor, and folds her arms expectantly.

“Come here.” She commands.

Obediently, you jump off the table and approach her on unsteady legs.

Something in her eyes glimmers, making the blood drain from your body.

She grins. “On your knees and elbows. Bottom up.”

#miranda croft #miranda croft x reader #tfa #the flight attendant #fanfiction #x reader #ao3 #four lines #hidden scars

[sweetheart-station]

I love your writing for Keith from Voltron! I miss Voltron 😭😭 I was wondering could I request some head cannons for the Paladins x reader and having there first kiss? 😊

Oh boy! A multi-character post! Get ready folks, this is gonna be long! - Mod Venus

Paladin’s First Kiss Headcanons (REQUEST)

Keith Kogane

A first kiss with Keith happens before something major, like the calm before the storm. He’s mulling over things while sitting on a windowsill, one leg drawn up and arms crossed as the cosmos glitter out the window. S/O, having a hunch, goes and finds him and promptly sits on the sill too, facing him.

After a soft inquiry on their part and a bit of a pinched look on his face, he opens up about what’s on his mind. At this point, he already knows he can trust them, so saying what he’s thinking isn’t quite as hard as it used to be before they got together.

After he explains himself, he lets S/O talk. Hearing what they have to say is important to him after all. Their words start sinking in and he finds himself subconsciously relaxing in their presence, shoulders not so tense, face softening.

How do they just...do that? Listening to his deepest troubles and making it seem like something beatable instead of some towering wall?

On one hand, he’s glad he doesn’t have to face everything completely alone anymore. On the other...he’s scared. If he loses them...

Next thing he knows, he’s drawn them up into his arms, pulling them close and resting his forehead against theirs. S/O pauses mid-sentence in surprise as their eyes meet. His eyes are intense, but not threatening. That passion he’s known for is simmering beneath the surface, and it’s sucking S/O in.

“No matter what happens...there’s no way I’m letting anything happen to you...got that?”

S/O can feel his breath brushing their skin as he murmurs those heartfelt words before his lips meet theirs, chapped but tender...tentative...uncharacteristically vulnerable. A hand in his hair makes him melt internally and feel like he’s floating all at once: an odd combination, but not unpleasant.

Even after they part for air, Keith is reluctant to let the go. Bearing so many feelings out in the open like that leaves him a bit emotionally raw, so he’s almost dependent on S/O’s presence like a healing balm for such a young, weary soul.

To sum it up: Keith’s first kiss with his S/O came from a place of fear...of worry for the future. However, it is also a promise; an oath of how much he loves them and how he will fight for the sake of their future together.

Hunk Garret

Hunk and his S/O were up way late one night...probably from nerves. And what better way to get rid of nighttime nerves than some late night snacks, right? Except...there’s not much to raid in the pantry...so the two decide to whip up a little something instead!

Even if S/O doesn’t know their way around the kitchen, Hunk is happy to let them try and help, or to have them sit and watch while he works...though his focus may be more on the food.

The two try not to make too much noise, but they can’t help but chat about anything and everything: from Voltron to weird alien food to just innocuous things.

It’s not long before the treats are ready, and soon the conversation is accented with comments of how delicious it turned out and how great Hunk is in the kitchen.

Hunk, caught between being humble and being proud of his talent, gets flustered. S/O, who has given him pecks on the cheek before, goes to do so, but because the motion catches him off guard it instead ends up planting squarely on his mouth.

There’s a pause before the two panic, apologizing profusely, followed by another pause and finished with a duet of bashful chuckles at how ridiculous the situation is.

S/O quietly asks if they should try that again. Hunk, with a warm smile and overflowing heart, says they should. The sort-of-first-but-technically-second kiss is sweet and soft and dusted with cookie crumbs. It’s the kind of kiss that immediately gets addicting, because your insides feel like cotton and are warm like fresh laundry.

To sum it up: Hunk’s first kiss is steady and sure, the next step in a happy life together. After this milestone, kisses become much more frequent and as natural as saying each other’s name. The man has domestic bliss written all over him, after all.

Pidge Holt

So...Pidge may be smart, but romance-wise, she’s a bit of a...lame duck. At least at first! She’s good at the casual things, like hanging out and playing games, or messing with Lance for a laugh at his expense. But...what she labels “gushy things” ...? A bit out of her field.

The first kiss didn’t happen for a while and the reason it happened wasn’t exactly romantic. It was getting real late, but it looked like Pidge was shooting for another all-nighter at her computer, much to her S/O’s dismay.

S/O had dozed off for a bit, woken up, and realized Pidge hadn’t moved an inch; the little brainiac was hunched over her clickety-clacking keyboard like some sort of bespectacled space gargoyle. It would be funny if it weren’t so concerning. S/O started off with a quiet inquiry, only to be met with a soft mutter of “Go back to bed.” S/O tried again, more insistent, bordering on pleading, but what the Green Paladin lacks in height she makes up for in sheer stubborness. She merely dismissed her S/O’s concerns again, stating that this isn’t the first time she’s done this and she’ll sleep when she’s done.

S/O, getting miffed, can’t help but snark about how long that’ll take, exactly. Pidge, who was mentally drained even without admitting it, doesn’t take kindly to this and snaps back, only to be shocked when S/O rushes forward and snaps the computer shut. Before she can protest, she’s stunned by the expression on S/O’s face: a scowl with glassy eyes and a slightly trembling lip.

S/O starts on a mini rant about how much it hurts them to see how little she cares about her own well-being when they care so much about it in her stead, and how it feels like what they say doesn’t seem to matter as much as some line of code or encrypted file, and how is she supposed to function properly when dead on her feet in the morning?? It trails into the idea that maybe because they themselves don’t understand this stuff, that maybe she doesn’t trust their judgment as a person; but she should at least know that they only say these things because they worry about her, and it hurts to be brushed off like some sort of pest.

Pidge watches owlishly as S/O stalks off before they really blow up and say something they’ll regret. The silence that ensues is deafening, and ultimately too uncomfortable for her to sit in as she goes and heads over to S/O’s room. She bites her lip as she sees them trying to calm down their breathing. As soon as she sits down next to them, she does her best to awkwardly start up a fresh conversation with S/O’s quiet gaze on her. She stammers during the apology, not from scrambling for excuses, but out of nerves and panic at the idea that she might have ruined the relationship. In the end, she pleads for them to not feel like they matter less than whatever project she’s working on, because it’s not true.

After a beat, S/O nods, much to her relief. After she mutters something about being a terrible girlfriend, she’s surprised by the feeling of S/O’s hand over her own. There’s some relief however when S/O quietly jokes that it’s gonna take a lot more for her to win “Most Terrible Girlfriend” award, followed by a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth that she quickly indulges in, not wanting to waste it.

To sum it up: Pidge is so driven that sometimes other things fall to the wayside. A first kiss with her is a way to plant her back on the ground; a reminder of what she has, and all-together a way for the bond to deepen even farther.

Lance McClain

Oh, this romantic had been dreaming about this for a while, even before he and his S/O got together. Which means that he’s looking for just the right moment when they do.

It’s one of those moments you read about in sappy romance novels. Lance insists on sneaking out one night when they’re staying on a planet. He takes them on a little adventure: A bit of perusing the streets, indulging the nightlife, and checking out the local sights before headed to a more secluded spot on the edge of the settlement, where the foliage gives way to a horizon crowned with stars.

The two of them sit down and just talk. Lance and S/O, already super close and practically bound at the hip, were no strangers to hanging out together, but this felt so much more intimate. More private. Laying on the ground might’ve been uncomfortable if it weren’t for the happy mood.

There’s banter, but they’re mostly just reveling in each other’s company and taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the universe that’s under the Paladins’ protection.

The air is quiet, with the exception of some local fauna here and there. Lance is suddenly not so bouncy; instead, he is pensive. His bright smile is faded, catching S/O’s attention. When they ask, he takes a moment to steel himself before coming clean about seeing them as more than just a friend.

“Heh...judging by the look on your face, you weren’t expecting that, huh?”

S/O is stunned, yes, because though they felt the same, they had no idea he liked them that way. He seemed like the type to straight up say he was interested. Lance, sensing the question, looks up with a nervous smile.

“You...you’re worth more than just a wink and a pick-up line, you know? I know it’s hard to believe, but...” his eyes dart to the side, downcast. “I don’t mean this as a fling. I really-“

He’s cut off when S/O moves in close, startled out of his ramble when their hand takes his. Warm tingles skitter up his spine at the contact, and he’s dumbstruck when they tilt his face to look back at them.

“That’s good...because I bet you weren’t expecting me to like you too,” they quip softly. Lance is torn between laughing and getting embarrassed, so he just kinda gurgles out of bashful nerves. When they smile and chuckle at his reaction, it just hits him what’s happening right now, which jumpstarts his brain back to life. He gets this real tender look on his face, hesitantly reaching to brush some of their hair out of their face before leaning in and pressing his lips to theirs. His heart soars and does backflips when he feels them reciprocate, and when they part he can’t help but smile softly.

There’s just this sense of completeness that washes over the two, like two missing puzzle pieces finally coming together to make the picture or a river meeting the sea. It blooms like a cactus flower in the night: fresh and new and oh so worth the wait.

To sum it up: a first kiss with Lance is amazing and memorable, but not flashy, despite what his personality might lead to believe. In matters of serious relationships, Lance gets nervous because real feelings are nerve-wracking (in a good way,) and he doesn’t want to mess up such a good bond. Still, the romantic in him wants to kiss them right at the start of it all, because it just...feels right. Plus, it’s a great story to pass down in the future.

Takashi Shirogane

A first kiss with Shiro is...a bit complicated.

The man has so many responsibilities on his shoulders that romance is pushed to the side a lot. Not that he doesn’t care about it or his S/O, he just feels obligated to focus on the situation at hand rather than indulge for himself.

His S/O understands that. There’s no way they’d be able to make it work if they didn’t.

On the other hand, his S/O wants to be an anchor for him. With how much he’s been through they have a hard time believing he can just brush that off so easily like the rest of the team might believe - The price one pays for being so revered...

They manage to make a point one night while Shiro is in the training room, asking if he wants to spar with them instead of the robot so they both get some work in. He agrees, happy to help.

It’s too bad the rest of the paladins aren’t awake at the moment to see it, because the sparring session that ensues is quite a sight to behold. Every move and transition and counter is so smooth.

Shiro comments on how much they’ve improved, and they merely reply with a cheeky “Are you really that surprised?”

He laughs, but doesn’t falter. The session comes to a midpoint and the two take a quick break for water.

“It’s good knowing I have someone like you watching my back,” he chuckles, taking a swig from his water bottle. S/O decides instead to douse themselves a bit with theirs. They nod a bit, but their face looks a bit more serious.

“You can always count on me...even when I’m not throwing punches,” they remind him. He pauses, sensing the underlying emotion in that statement, and sighs.

“I know I can, (Name.)” he says in a reassuring tone, but he can’t help but yell in surprise when he suddenly finds his legs swept out from under him. He falls onto the mat with a grunt, sprawled out in his back and staring up at his S/O, who is now straddling him, in shock.

“You say that...but you still take everything on your shoulders no matter how many times we tell you otherwise...!” S/O scolds. “How am I supposed to believe you when you don’t tell me how to help?” Their voice goes quieter as they slouch forward a bit, anger starting to ebb into tired pleading.

“I’m not going to tell you what you can and can’t do...” they murmur hoarsely as they lock eyes with him. “But...I hoped that you would trust me enough to tell me when you’ve had enough...to come to me once and a while.”

Shiro is speechless at first, mouth dropped open in bewilderment, before his face softens. A soft hand hand touches S/O’s cheek, catching their attention.

“S/O...this’s been bugging you for a long time now, hasn’t it...I’m sorry...”

Dark eyes reflect regret as he pulls them into his chest after sitting up, not too tight, but definitely firm with conviction. “It was never my intention to make you feel like I don’t trust you...that’s the furthest thing from the truth...I was so focused on not wanting you to worry that I made you worry anyway. I guess I’m a bit of a hypocrite that way, huh?”

The two share a small chuckle at that.

“Maybe...but knowing you, you won’t make that mistake again, hm?”

“Well, if you’re going to sweep me every time I do, I better not,” he jokes. There’s silence between the two as they look into each other’s faces, tension passed. S/O, after a moment of consideration, presses a kiss to his mouth, which he happily reciprocates and even deepens a tad to make it last longer. The weariness in his body slowly fades, replaced by a softness comparable to a fleece blanket after a long trek in the cold rain.

“Don’t worry. Even if that happens, I’ll still be there to pull you back up on your feet.”

To sum it up: A first kiss with Shiro is a mark of trust. For Shiro, who tends to put almost too much on himself, it is a sign that he doesn’t have to be the only one to bear the weight. He can finally find refuge in someone who will stand by him through it all and offer him shelter emotionally.

Princess Allura

Ah, yes. A first kiss with a princess. Who hasn’t dreamed about that?

This spirited young lady is torn between propriety and just going for it.

It takes time for Allura to come to grips that she even has feelings for someone because, like Shiro, she has such a strong sense of duty that she believes she has no time for romance.

So a first kiss comes along in a moment of peace after a hard-won victory. Her mood is uplifted and she feels a weight taken off her shoulders. For now at least.

S/O on the other hand, seems..off. Jumpy, nervous, a bit spastic. Could it be some sort of odd Earthling disease??

Determined to find out, Allura starts tracking them down. When she first approaches, S/O seems to panic, which makes her even more concerned.

“You’ve been acting so strangely. What is the matter?” She asks, dainty eyebrows drawn together in concern. Somehow, S/O just looks even more nervewracked as they sputter an excuse before darting off. Allura just stares after them in bewilderment.

After several more attempts, she finally corners them somewhere away from the others. No one to distract them, nothing happening that just so happens to need their attention, nothing. She immediately nips any excuses in the bud as she stared directly into what feels like their soul.

“Now, what in heaven’s name is going on? Have I done something to offend you or what??” She demands, exasperated.

“What? No! You haven’t done anything to me! Er, well, not that way, at least,” S/O yelps as they bumble through an explanation. Their eyes are glued to the floor as they continue. “I...there’s something I need to tell you...I’m just too big a chicken to say anything...”

Her face relaxes a little, going from frustration to concern, though a small smile does grace her face.

“Whatever a chicken is...you are far from one, S/O. What is it you wanted to say?”

Cue more stumbling and awkward pauses before S/O finally just sighs, looking at her with a helpless expression.

“I love you!” they spit out, before slapping a hand over their mouth in horror. S/O was hoping to be more subtle than that!! Allura’s just staring at them; of all things, that was not what she saw coming.

Well, it’s not totally unbelievable...she’s not going deny how close they’ve become over the course of their journey together. The late night chats, the sharing of Altean and Earth cultures, the laughs, the tears...

She thinks back on all those times, and her heart swells as the thoughts in the back of her mind come pouring in. She knew she had treasured their relationship for a long time, but now that S/O had given it a name, she couldn’t deny it.

She snaps out of her reverie when she notices S/O stammering out an apology, voice watery and hollowly casual with a face that screams how much they want to go hide under a rock. Immediately, she is filled with regret because she hadn’t realized she’d tuned out that long, which couldn’t have looked that favorable a response.

Before S/O can run off again, she quietly takes their hand and squeezes it. The gesture cuts them off mid-ramble, making them look at her, puzzled. She just smiles, blue eyes soft and twinkling, as she leans forward to press a kiss to their mouth.

At first, S/O is shocked beyond belief. Could this really be happening after how badly they botched their confession? Then, they just melt into it. There’s this sense of tranquility that seeps into their veins.

It lasts a few seconds before their lips part softly. S/O looks flustered, but smitten, which makes Allura melt inside. She’s used to people pledging loyalty and camaraderie to her, but this is a whole new level.

“Now...before I kiss you again, how about I tell you how I feel, hm?”

To sum it up, a first kiss with Allura is sweet and tender. It’s soothing like a lullaby, but steadfast and sure. She wants S/O to have no doubts about her feelings ever again, so she makes it a point to kiss them often. They’re also a good way for her to relax when things get tense; at the very least, she has her S/O with her during this perilous journey.

*faints* this...took...so long...I’m so sorry... - Mod Venus

#keith kogane #keith kogane x reader #hunk garrett #hunk garrett x reader #pidge holt #pidge holt x reader #lance mcclain #lance mcclain x reader #takashi shirogane #takashi shirogane x reader #allura #allura x reader #voltron headcanons #voltron #voltron legendary defender #requests

[vaniri]

Profaned [Enver Gortash x Dark Urge]

After satisfying her dark urges with blood and carnage, Durge feels the need to visit Gortash. She knows where to find him, she comes to him almost every night. She gives herself to him, on his desk, letting him defile her body and poison her mind. Her Father is obviously not very happy about that.

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Rating: E Category: F/M Word Count: 2 722 Warnings: blood, violence, mentions of death… it’s Dark Urge, you know what you’re getting yourself into

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Big thanks to @ugh-my-back for beta-reading ❤️❤️❤️

(AO3 link in the comments)

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It was one of these nights when the opportunity to plunge her dagger into the flesh of an innocent and spill their blood presented itself, and her dark urges were howling to take up on it. An easy prey - a lonely man who had one cup too many at the tavern, too drunk to care who he was going to bed with - but satisfying nonetheless. Her blade was quick, her hand steady, mind focused on turning a mere lower city peasant into a work of gruesome art. A pretty corpse, eviscerated and brutalized beyond recognition, left on the street to be viewed and admired.

With her urges silenced and Father pleased, she took one final look at the bloody mess at her feet, ready to retreat to the Temple. But she was not satisfied yet. The moment her blade had started stabbing and blood had spouted from the man’s wounds something stirred deep inside her, a need that any amount of blood spilled and corpses mutilated could not satiate. A desire to be touched, filled, tainted. Unadulterated carnal lust.

There was only one man in this wretched city that could quench her thirst and lucky for her, he was always more than happy and willing to defile and ruin his favorite bhaalspawn. All she had to do was pay him a visit.

She knew that the first place she should be looking for Gortash at such a late hour was his workroom at the Steel Watch Foundry. His beloved playground, the temple of his brilliant mind and unrivaled genius, as he called it. This man sure thought very highly of himself, and not undeservedly, but he was just a man, constricted by the limitations of his mortal body. Limitations he stubbornly tried to ignore. Like, he had a very bad habit of overworking himself to the point of literal passing out on his desk.

She passed through the foundry yard completely unnoticed, effortlessly evading the Steel Watchers patrolling the site. It was always ridiculously easy to remain unseen and she mentioned to Gortash several times that maybe their perception and surveillance abilities needed some improvement. But more likely they couldn’t spot her because she had her skills. And a lot of experience in avoiding them. She also had a hunch that Gortash programmed them specifically to not stop her. He would rather keep most people at a distance, but her presence was always welcome and greatly enjoyed.

She slinked into the building and moved through the main hall. From the balcony leading to the back of the foundry she could see Gortash’s precious slaves, the Gondians, working downstairs on assembling yet another Steel Watcher for the Lord’s army, and some visibly bored banites, supervising them. No one paid attention to her presence and she was very grateful for that. Most of Gortash’s high-ranking subordinates knew her and, more importantly, they knew how unwise it was to stand in her way. But these ones looked like mere lackeys, meaning they would surely try to stop her. Her Lord hated when she made a mess in his playground. And he hated losing his assets even more.

She found him exactly where she expected him to be at this hour, and how she expected him - in his workroom at the back of the building, at his desk, poring over some notes. There was a lot of papers scattered around him, both on his desk and on the floor. He was so engrossed in reading that he didn’t even notice her enter the room, despite her not being particularly stealthy about it.

She stepped down the metal stairs, soundlessly, like a prowling predator, eyes set on tonight’s prey. She was closing in quietly, her moves slow and deliberate, like she was afraid he was about to flee the moment he spotted her. He would never run from her. Gortash was probably the only person out of her congregation not scared of her, despite knowing what she really was. A vicious murderer, cold-blooded assassin, perfect tool in her Father’s sinful hands. A monster.

He would never see her as such.

He was so oblivious, so unaware of her presence, so defenseless. A perfect quarry. Her dark urges were roaring, begging her to draw his blood. And she wanted it too, she wanted to hurt him - not to kill, but for pleasure. She yearned to see red stripes on his olive skin, ached to smell his delicious blood, taste it when he was pounding her dripping cunt…

“Enver.”

He raised his eyes from the paper he was currently reading and locked them with the figure standing in front of his desk. He looked like snapped out of a trance, disoriented and still a bit absent, slowly coming back to reality.

“My favorite assassin!” His concerned expression turned into joy when he realized it was her. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming.”

“I figured.”

“What brings you here at this late hour?”

“So you know what hour it is? You’re overworking yourself again, sitting here doing gods know what, probably skipping meals and your night rest.” He was definitely not resting properly, or rather at all, his bloodshot eyes and dark circles under them testified to that.

Not to mention his disheveled hair, rumpled shirt stained with machine oil, and days worth of stubble. He had an image to maintain and would never show publicly looking like that, meaning he probably hasn’t been outside for days.

“You look like shit.” Deliciously wrecked, she wanted to say. “How long have you been here? It’s unhealthy how obsessed you get with your work sometimes, you know?”

“Am I hearing concern in your voice? So you came here to check up on me and make sure I’m taken care of?” He taunted her, a smug smile plastered on his face. “I’m flattered, my dear.”

“You know what I want when I stoop to look for you in this hole.”

She circled his desk, dragging her nails across its surface. She was like a wild cat, ready to pounce, eyes never leaving her prize, now sitting comfortably in his chair. He was watching her with anticipation, as if expecting her to jump at him any second.

“Maybe I do. But I want to hear it from you.” Another smile tugged at his lips when she stopped in front of him. Despite his current position there was no doubt that he was the one in charge here, his voice full of confidence and authority. “Why are you here?”

His warm palm caressed her inner thigh, encouraging her to utter out what he already knew.

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Need? Gods, I love when you’re so direct.”

His hand rested on her thigh completely still now, so close to where she wanted it so much yet so tantalizingly far. He was teasing her, she knew that, waiting for her to make a move, tell him what she desired. Or better, beg for it. But she was in no mood for his games, so she took his hand and guided it up her leg, looking at him with a warning in her eyes.

His fingers finally brushed her crotch, then again and again, with more pressure, and that was not enough. She needed to fully feel him. So she swiftly unbuckled her leather pants and shimmed out of them, exposing her beautiful legs and black underpants, covering her already wet entrance.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

“Do me a favor, just shut up and put that lovely mouth of yours to a better use.” To show him what “use” she had in mind exactly she sat on his desk and spread her legs, shooting him an inviting glance. And to make sure he caught her meaning, or maybe just to assert temporary dominance, she put her hand on the back of his neck, with the clear intention of guiding his face between her legs.

She didn’t have to encourage him any further though. He tugged her underpants aside and gave her slit a languid lick, then buried his tongue between her slick folds.

Gortash had many talents and giving head was definitely one of them. His technique was immaculate, every stroke of his tongue precise and calculated. And he knew all too well how to make her squirm. He focused his attention on her clit, fondling the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue while his fingers played with her folds and caressed her entrance. But he never let her enjoy herself too much, stopping his ministrations every time she was close to coming, that bastard. She grinded against his face in a desperate attempt to get more friction, but he kept her still. She pressed her nails into his scalp to remind him who he was dealing with and coerce him to give her what she wanted, but he was relentless.

He was the tyrant, he was the dominant one. He was to decide when she was going to come.

“Fuck it, enough!” She yanked his hair, forcing him to leave her pussy and look at her. He looked like a mess, with his cheeks flushed and her juices dripping down his chin, breathing heavily like he just raced to his estate in the upper city and back. His eyes were clouded with lust and she knew that her time in charge was over, now he was going to have his way with her and use her as he pleased.

And that was exactly what she wanted.

He got up and claimed her lips, pressing his firm body against hers. She could taste herself on his tongue when he was kissing her hungrily, and she felt his hands caress her sides, roam up and down her back and finally grab her ass. And yet, all she could focus on was his still clothed cock, pressing against her thigh. She took pride in how hard she could make him without even touching him, just by letting him kiss her and eat her out.

She wanted to feel his body under her palms. Her skilled fingers unbuttoned his shirt without even looking, button after button, and swiftly shucked it off, letting it fall to the ground. Her hands explored his broad chest, his toned stomach, enjoyed his body hair tickling her skin. And Gortash could finally take a moment to play with her breasts. He cupped them eagerly and rubbed her already erect nipples, making her moan into their steamy kiss.

Her mind was foggy with arousal, her cunt throbbing and begging to be filled. She grinded herself against him, hoping to prompt him to finally fuck her. She felt his dick twitch in response in his trousers, but Gortash wasn’t done playing with her yet.

“You are mine.” He purred in her ear, his fingers stroking her neck like he was about to choke her. “And you will be patient.”

When his hand finally found its way to her crotch and his fingers rubbed her folds she nearly came on the spot. He played with her slickness for a while, careful to avoid her clit, and when she was nothing more than a whimpering mess, writhing under his touch, he finally freed his cock and thrust into her, burying himself deep in her heat.

He grabbed her waist for better grip, his thumbs digging painfully into her skin, and rammed into her cunt with full force. Every thrust of his hips was composed and confident, just like he was, hitting that right spot inside her that made waves of immeasurable pleasure spread through her entire body. He knew exactly how to make her shiver with ecstasy, how to make her think of nothing else but him, yearn for him, sin for him. He pounded into her and she rolled her hips in response, desperate to get even more of him, nothing else but his name falling from her lips, like a prayer to a god she was forbidden to worship.

Every second of his unholy flesh touching her was a profanation of her sacred body, every thought of him a blemish on her perfectly shaped mind. Every thrust of his hips felt like a blasphemy against her Father and even now she could feel his ire. She was a disappointment, degrading herself squirming and moaning under that filthy banite. So unbecoming to someone of her lineage. Before she met him she was an ever-obedient child, fulfilling her Father’s will in earnest and never daring to cross him. A perfect tool ready to bring this world to its knees in his name. Now she knelt before a mortal man. It was hard to believe that she desired Gortash more than Bhaal’s vicious love. More than she feared him.

But she couldn’t change what she was, she couldn’t escape her purpose: the sole reason of her existence was to execute Father’s will. He demanded her to take Gortash’s life, to prove her undying devotion and slaughter that man upon his altar. And she would, like she had promised many times before, but not yet. She will slit his throat when everyone in this plane lays dead, leaving the two of them the last people alive. He will die right before her. With her.

The thought of his blood spouting profusely from his wound, staining the altar and pooling on the Temple’s floor made her shiver with excitement. Her dark urges awoke again, demanding her to hurt him, mark his skin, draw his blood. And she couldn’t fight it, not with his cock slamming into her cunt with an obscene slapping noise, and him groaning and panting in her ear.

Her hands itched to tear his flesh apart when her claws scratched his broad back, leaving red streaks on his beautiful skin. He moaned and she kissed him hard, him being so vocal drove her absolutely insane, and bit his lower lip. His blood tasted divine on her tongue and she lost herself in the sensation, lapping at the warm liquid. Gortash clearly enjoyed it too, his dick throbbing fiercely inside her a being proof to that.

He was close, she could feel it. His pace became uneven, his groans desperate, thrusts frantic. She loved to see him like that, losing his usual composure, becoming a servant to his carnal desires. He came with her name on his lips, spilling his warm seed deep inside her clenching cunt, holding her close against his body.

She came moments later, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

No matter how violent their sex was, the aftercare was always gentle and affectionate. She cupped his cheek and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling tenderly. He kissed her forehead, her brow, her nose, and then landed a soft kiss on her lips. She could still taste his blood but her thoughts stayed clear, as her urges were finally satiated and asleep again.

“As much as I love when you take me on your desk, we should make a rule to fuck only on your bed from now on.” She broke the silence when he finally pulled out of her and helped her get her underpants back in their place.

“What? Why?”

“Because maybe then you would be there regularly.”

“You’re not dropping it, aren’t you?”

"Is it that hard to believe that I really care that you don't overwork yourself to death? Who would fuck me this good then?" She added quickly, pulling her pants on.

“Ah, so you only need me because sex with me is great?”

“I need you alive to stand by my side. Just like you need me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. “We have a world to take over and rule together, remember? None of us could do that alone.”

He kissed her again and she promptly kissed him back. It was slow and passionate, full of affection and reverence, and something she also felt every time she thought about her destiny and not having to face it alone. Gratitude for having each other.

It was his unspoken promise to remain at her side and never leave her alone. Together, they will conquer. Together, they will rule. Together, they will stand against the world.

She could feel her Father’s fury.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #enver gortash #gortash x durge #dark urge #durgetash #durge x gortash #baldur's gate #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #duck pecks her keyboard

[alwaysvivid]

soft/fluff 1 for chan and sora teehee :)))

[01:21 am ; 18 july 2019]

i got a bit carried away ... maybe i’m in a bang chan mood

considering chan had gone through all the effort to convince her to come over and then proceeded to sneak her into the jyp building past security and then into the studio, you’d think sora would be drowning in attention; much to her dismay she wasn’t.

instead she had been staring at his back for a solid 39 minutes, trying to use the force to pull him away from his headphones and laptop just for a second.

the studio did have a comfy atmosphere to it, making her feel welcome at least. but the only sound resonating off the walls was the loud clicks of chan’s keyboard and she was sure the sound was slowly eating at her brain. if she was lucky she could hear some occasional humming if he found a good melody but other than that just constant click clack.

sure sora loved seeing him so focused, and passionate; it was hot. chan was hot even without trying. sora could just look at him all night but honestly, she was bored, lonely and horny . and the one thing that could solve all of those problems at once hadn’t even acknowledged her since he sat in his desk chair.

she’d been sat on the coach so long she was molding into it and all she wanted was for chan to at least pay some sort of attention to her. he’d brought her there anyway.

realising that staring wasn’t working sora huffed and walked towards him by the desk. maybe if she made herself visible in his peripheral vision she’d grab his attention. she had one of his old worn out black hoodies on, she was definitely guaranteed his attention.

chan loved when sora wore his clothes. his hands never seem to leave her body whenever he got to see her draped in the oversized material. especially when she wore his shirts and hoodies like dresses; his hands would be attached to her exposed thighs like second skin. he just couldn’t get enough of her. so surely sora walking around in his hoodie that covered her shorts, and exposed most of her legs , would spark that same response once again.

no. it didn’t.

his focus was solely on the track he was producing and nothing else, he hadn’t even noticed her standing beside him. sora didn’t want to disrupt him and pull him from the zone but if he was gonna drag her out of bed the least he could do was acknowledge her.

with a loud and drawn out huff sora resulted to plan b.

gently sora pulled his chair away from the desk. chan’s brows furrowed at the sudden movement. his brow dip only deepened as he watched sora slide under his arms -with more struggle than she anticipated-and place herself comfortably on his lap.

“sora what-” he cut himself off looking up into her eyes for the first time since she’d gotten in the studio. sora draped her arms around his neck with a sigh.

finally.

‘w-what are you doing?” he half-whispered with a small smile on his face. his accent sounded like music to her ears. she told him to speak english around her more often; partly to better her own english and partly because she thought chan’s accent was the sexiest thing on planet earth and if she could listen to it on loop forever she would.

with her face heating up , sora only replied with a tired groan and snuggled more into him. all the tension that chan hadn’t even realized he’d had, left his body as he relaxed into her embrace. he removed the headphones with a smile as he watched sora formulate her sentence.

“i feeled...felt ?” sora paused waiting for chan to nod and confirm that she’d said it right.

“i felt lonely and you not even looking at me, only computer.” sora tried making herself sound like chan did when he spoke english. but she spoke slowly and tripped over her words and instead of his pretty australian accent that she adored her thick korean accent always shon through.

chan tried his hardest not to laugh when sora spoke, he didn’t want to seem like an ass but sometimes he couldnt help it. with the mix of her adorable accent and her uncharacteristically cute actions ,he just had to let it out a little bit, even as a soft giggle.

sora pouted at his laughter but her unintentional cuteness only worsening it as his hands settled themselves on her exposed thighs squeezing them gently as if trying to soothe her.

“don’t laugh at me ,i’m trying,” sora’s didn’t mean for her words to come out as whiny as they did. she was supposed to be stand offish and hard to get. sora was the cool girl who didn’t care. but in that moment she was tired of pretending she didn’t care if chan paid attention to her or not. she fucking cared. a lot. and she just wanted him to fuck her in his stupid studio.

chans giggles had died down to just a permanent smile on his face. his dimples were on full display. sora was already under his spell but the view of his deep dimples seemed to put her deeper in a trance.

“i know you’re trying you’re just really cute right now,” his hands stroked her thighs as they slowly creeped higher -just the way she wanted them to- as he somehow closed the distance between them even more but still not kissing her. she was craving it at this point.

chan could see her frustration and to be honest he loved it, he was always the one all over her so watching her practically crumble just by him smiling at her gave him an ego boost that he needed.

chans lips just brushed against hers at first, but that was it. he just wanted to see how far he could push her. they never break eye contact, except when her eyes drop to his lips.

chan had the prettiest lips, they were full and soft and somehow they always tasted like watermelon or pineapple. all she wanted was for him to lean in that much more and just kiss her. kissing chan always felt good, it always made her stomach drop in the best wait possible.

why wasn’t he kissing her?

taking matters into her own hands sora finally closed the gap between them. she knew chan loved to tease her, he would’ve waited until she literally screamed before doing anything.

in between kisses chan could help but smile. he tried to fight it off but he was losing. tiny giggles slipped out his everytime they parted.

“what now?” sora whined again her accent seemingly stronger now that it was laced in her very obvious sexual frustration

chan pecked her lips sweetly as the smile never left his face.

“i just really love your accent.” sora groaned ducking her head in the crook of his shoulder. “i find it it absolutely adorable.”

“piss off.” her english was muffled in one of his hundred black hoodies. the new additions to her vocabulary only fueling the curly haired boy to laugh even harder.

“oh look at you learning new words.” he said between deep breaths. his fingertips gently stroking her thighs again. “i’m so proud.”

a comfortable silence fell over then as they sat tangled up in chans chair. his hands creeped up her thigh again and as she felt the atmosphere settle down . sora placed hot, open mouthed kisses on chans neck as he leaned back with a content sigh.

“can you please fuck me now,” she said softly.

sora knew exactly what she was doing. chan loved when sora begged and he seemed to love when she spoke english so mixing them together was guaranteed to have an affect on on him.

she was right.

chan’s hands stopped abruptly on her thighs, deciding to rather grip them tightly as his entire body stiffened.

“well when you ask so nicely...”

finally.

#okay so like maybe chora was like kinda cute #maybe i miss them just a tiny bit.... #connections.sora #love interest.sora #sora.txt #sora.dev #ship.chora

[skyking91-archive]

Discord thread featuring: Sky & @samuelburton

When: October 4, 2020 - right before Sam takes Sky to her surprise birthday party

Where: Sam’s apartment

Mentions: @jesskipp

Description: Sam cooks Sky a b-day lunch, and plays her the song he wrote for her

Trigger Warnings: fluff fluff fluff. 

Sam

sam had been preparing a little something special for sky's birthday for a little while now. it was hard to compete with yacht parties and expensive gifts, but sam knew that all sky really wanted was to spend time with her loved ones on her special day. sam was lucky to be counted among them. he hadn't always been the most talented in the kitchen, but he really had been working on improving his skills and for lunch he whipped up a light but tasty pasta dish that was absolutely delicious. it was sam's responsibility to get sky to the surprise party, so they didn't have too much time, but sam wanted to make the most of it. the table was set appropriately with candles and roses because if sam learned anything from watching the food network it was all about the presentation. he pulled sky's chair out for her and once she was seated, ducked his head to speak directly into her ear. "happy birthday, love," he told her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

Sky

Sky hasn’t been this happy in a while. She had a good job, one in which she was making a lot of money off, she was just cast as one of her dream roles in one of her favorite shows, and most importantly she had to most loving and supportive boyfriend that anyone could ever ask for. Sam’s plan for today was so romantic. There was nothing sexier than a man who wanted to cook for their lover. While Sky loved fancy parties and an excuse to dress up, but when it came to Sam...quality time with him was everything she ever needed and more. She was still in her dance outfit from the class she taught at Jaycee’s studio earlier when she entered the room. Her face lit up at the sight. “Sam...” she mused, blushing a little at the way he pulled out the chair for her and kissed her on the cheek. She felt like a real princess.

Sam

sam sat across from her at the small table he'd set for them. it was no elaborate set up with balloons and paper hearts, but it was heartfelt non the less. he uncorked the bottle of wine, pouring them each a glass. "i thought since it's your birthday we could definitely indulge in a little day drinking," he told her with a wink. it was so nice to be able to spend time with sky like this. between rehearsals, her dance classes, and her job, it was getting harder to spend quality time together like this. it only made it harder that they couldn't really be seen in public together. but sam was so happy for her. she was doing so well and he couldn't be more proud of her. "an amazing home cooked meal for an amazing girl," sam smiled, raising his glass.

Sky

Ah, wine. Sky and Jess considered themselves wine connoisseurs even though they were far from that. She hummed contently as she watched him pour the wine for the pair. This was the simplest gesture, but she honestly felt like a fucking princess. Sky had such a busy and crazy life, but she loved keeping busy and doing the things she was passionate about. She hadn't been this happy in such a long time. She was making money, dancing, singing, acting, and dating the best man in the entire city. 29 was bound to be an amazing year. "I love you." she smiled at him, raising her glass and taking a tiny sip of her wine.

Sam

“don’t say that until you’ve tried the pasta,” sam joked, though he was smiling the way he did whenever she told him she loved him. he would never tire of hearing her say that. sam tipped back his glass, taking a sip of wine before promptly digging in. it was pretty fucking good and sam felt relief wash over him. they weren’t the kind of couple who needed everything to be perfect to enjoy themselves but he wanted to do something nice for sky for her birthday and was glad that he really had improved as far as cooking goes.

Sky

Sky snorted at her little goofball. She followed his lead and took a tiny bite of the pasta, much more gracefully than Sam was eating. But wow. It was so damn good. She took another sip of her wine before locking eyes with him and reaching across the table to grab his hand. "Thank you so much." She grinned again. Her face was hurting from smiling so hard. This was such a sweet gesture, and it made her heart so full. She really did not think she deserved Sam. There was still a pit in her stomach about the whole Mat thing, and part of her thought that their relationship would end the same way it did before. But moment like these reassured Sky that Sam really was the one.

Sam

“you deserve it,” sam told his girlfriend, his smile warm and genuine, his eyes soft. seeing her happy like this made sam absolutely melt. he loved her so much. they continued eating and chatting, joking around, and just generally having a really good time. once they’d both finished their meal and another glass of wine, sam stood and rounded the table. he stood behind her, squeezing her shoulders as he leaned down to kiss her head. “i’ve got one more surprise for you,” he told her.

Sky

This was perfect. She was always having a laugh when she was with Sam, and she was just so genuinely happy this afternoon. Sky raised her brows when her boyfriend told her that he had another surprise for her — her mind automatically going to a nice gift. His massive cock would be nice too. She tilted her head to look into her favorite pair of blue eyes. Her heart stopped just about every time she looked into them. Still. “What is it?” She asked eagerly.

Sam

“come here.” sam took sky’s hand and guided her out of her chair and into his room. “i’d love to give you diamonds or something just as extravagant because you deserve it, but i hope that this will be just as good if not better,” he told her before guiding her over to sit beside him at his keyboard. sam loved the piano, but he rarely played for others. it was something that he kept for himself. but this was a special occasion and music had always been something so important to sam and was sometimes the easiest way for him to express what he was feeling. he smiled at sky, a little nervous, and began to play. it was a medley of her favorite showtunes interwoven with score from some of her favorite movies. his fingers glided skillfully over the keys as he transitioned from one piece into the next before ending with something completely original. he’d written it especially for sky. he’d poured everything into it, communicating with music rather than words just how much she meant to him.

Sky

Sky chuckled. Diamonds sounded nice, but she’d never ask Sam to do that for her. Bedsides, she’d soon be able to buy her own diamonds with this new job. She grinned as she followed him. Her heart fell into her stomach and she stopped him her steps when he sat down on the piano. He didn’t. She slowly moved to sit down on the bench next to him, her jaw to the floor. This was one of the most beautiful things she had ever heard in her life. Her dark eyes flickered from his gorgeous hands to his face which was concentrated on the keys below them. Sky really didn’t expect something like this at all. This was better than any diamonds or gold anyone could ever buy her. “I love you.” She told him. He didn’t even need to say those words back to her because she could tell just how much he did by listening to that song. “Sam...” she put her face in her hands. She was absolutely speechless for once.

Sam

sam couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction. his heart was so full of love for his girlfriend and seeing the look on her face was all he ever needed. sam put his arms around her, pulling her into his side and kissing her on the head. “you? speechless? who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” he teased, squeezing her shoulder. “happy birthday, love,” he told her. “you’re everything to me.”

Sky

“Shut up.” She giggled, nudging him in the arm with her elbow playfully. But he was right. Damn. Sky could talk but there were not words to describe how she was feeling right now. “I’m happy to be spending this year with you.” She told him. “You’re my everything too.” She looked over at him with a bright smile. She wished she could give him everything so that he could just work on his music. She’d work her three jobs — Jaycee’s studio, the show, and Mat’s fake girlfriend — 24/7 if that meant that Sam could just do what he loved all day. She owed him that much. “Hey. We should write a song together one day.” She smirked.

Sam

sam smiled when she said she was happy to spend the year with him. it was kind of funny the way they ended up together once again, just in time for the holidays. it almost felt like a do over, though a lot had changed. sam was determined to get it right this time around. “me too,” he said, still holding her close. at her suggestion, he turned to look at her, eyes bright with excitement at the idea of creating music together. “yeah?” he said, his smile widening. “you know i love hearing you sing,” he added, leaning in to kiss her sweetly. when he pulled away, he managed to catch sight of the clock on the nightstand. if they were going to make it to the party in time, they needed to start getting ready. “hey, how about we take a bit of an evening stroll?” he asked.

Sky

And Sky loved to sing for Sam. He was probably her biggest fan and she was most definitely his. He supported her career like nobody she ever knew. Especially since growing up was so hard for her. Sam was one of maybe two or three consistent people she had in her life at this point. Sky pouted when her boyfriend pulled away from her, although the words coming out of his mouth were beyond sweet. Of course they made Sky blush, but she wanted to be kissing him again so damn bad. "Or we could stay here and I could jump your bones?" She kissed him again, leaning into him this time. A walk sounded nice, sure. But this was better.

Sam

sam kissed her back, smiling against her lips. it was really really tempting. and sounded like a much better option to sam. but he’d been given the responsibility of getting sky to that party and he knew that sky would absolutely love that her friends, namely jess, had put it together for her. “you don’t know how much i’d love that,” he sighed as he pulled away. “but i think you’d really enjoy taking a walk,” he said, giving her a meaningful look. he knew that there were probably more subtle ways of getting sky out the door, but they were working against the clock here. “trust me,” he told her, leaning in to give her a quick kiss in the nose.

#discord #sam

[yasbxxgie]

Reggae Britannia (BBC Four, 2/11/11)

385 Willesden High Road is tucked away behind a row of dilapidated 19th century houses, its entrance obscured by high locked gates and a walled yard. But 385 is a treasure trove of reggae history. It's called Theorem, Music Village, and it's where we're recording several artist interviews for Reggae Britannia. As we arrive, there's a band in the studio rehearsing a romantic Lovers Rock number, there's a man up a rickety ladder painting the walls and another mopping up from an all night dance in the 'functions room' with its damp lino and garish red felt walls. T-Jae, the tall soft-spoken proprietor of what was once called BBMC (the Brent Black Music Cooperative) helps us with our camera gear. He's got coffee brewing in the kitchen beside an open can of condensed milk. Before T-Jae's time this was a leisure centre filled with rattle of pinball machines and the click of snooker balls - now replaced by the drum 'n bass of reggae rhythms leaking from the studio.

We're here to interview Dave Barker, one half of the Dave and Ansell Collins vocal duo who set the teenage mods alight, back in 1971, performing a novelty number called 'Double Barrel'. Dave's a quietly spoken man with a hint of a stammer. He tells us how, when he first came to this country (and he stayed here ever after) he peered out through the window of his BOAC plane as it banked over the smoking chimneys of the snow-covered houses below and wondered 'how come they have so many bakeries in England?' On the drive from the airport he was shocked at seeing white men digging the road and taking out garbage: 'Wow man, that was strange, you didn't see those things in Jamaica'. Nor dogs wearing winter vests, nor steak and kidney pies, nor that little sparrow he spied pecking the top off a milk bottle. He can't help himself: Dave sings a refrain from Matt Munro's 'Born Free' and segues into 'Summer Holiday'.

Dave arrived in the U.K exactly ten years before Theorem opened its doors to top British and Jamaican reggae artists passing through. Today, there's the legendary Max Romeo sitting on bench in the winter sunshine, his grey locks neatly tucked into a woolly beret. In 1969, Max brought his wicked song 'Wet Dream' to Britain and its risqué lyrics - which got it banned in clubs and on the BBC - made it an anthem for skinheads in dance halls all across Britain. He sings a few lines, diffidently explaining how it caused an 'upstir' among the rebellious youth of the time. He's a little ashamed of it now because, by the mid 70s, Max had embraced the wisdom of Rastafari. That was when he wrote and recorded some of reggae's most powerful and memorable music in the Black Ark studio of Lee Scratch Perry: 'War In A Babylon' and 'Chase The Devil'. When those songs arrived here, first as pre-releases and then remixed by Island Records, they inspired our fledgling roots reggae bands and then the punks and then Bob Marley too. Max intones a few lines from 'Chase The Devil', an ironic, cautionary tale that has been covered or sampled by dozens of musicians - including Jay-Z in 'The Black Album' - and was featured in the video-game Grand Theft Auto.

'I'm gonna put on an iron shirt and chase Satan out of earth' he sings. 'I'm gonna send him to outer space to find another race'. Max explains: 'The devil is the negative within the psyche. Chasing the devil means chasing the negative out of your mind.' There are people wandering in and out while he speaks; musicians carrying drums and guitars into this studio that's cold as a morgue, or dropping off an amp or a heavyweight speaker, or they've come to pay their respects to the master, with a hug or a high-five.

T-Jae comes sauntering by with a piece of carpet under his arm to help our sound recordist dampen the 'live' acoustic of the room (yes, we still have a sound recordist on our crew) and he tells me that among the band members in the studio today is none other than Bigga Morrison. Bigga's not a front man like Max, but a keyboard virtuoso and music director of renown. Reggae royalty. The band take a another break for a smoke in the yard and Bigga, immaculate in pin-striped suit and brogues, describes growing up in this country as a second generation West Indian: 'My parents had experienced troubles and threats on the streets, back in the '50s, with the Teddy Boys and such, but they wouldn't discuss those things because they wanted to keep you free from the pressures. But as we grew up, we took our message and our fight onto the streets with the roots and culture music we played in bands like Steel Pulse and Aswad.'

Later during the interview, I asked Bigga to show us how the British reggae producers, back in the early 1970s, added violins to the Jamaican imports to make them sound 'more classical'. Unfortunately, he's lost his glasses and so can't read the score. Tee Jay's on hand to send for a replacement pair. Bigga fills in time by playing us a delightful new track by his band the Skatronics, but when the glasses arrive, they're all wrong for Bigga. He wears them anyway, and peers astigmatically at the music for 'Young Gifted And Black' which is layered in symphonic-style strings. Bigga (educated at Trinity College of Music) explains how Jamaican reggae gradually transformed into a British musical experience, first through the dub sounds and conscious lyrics of hardworking roots groups like Aswad and then by the bands that went platinum: the 2 Tone crowd, UB40 and The Police. Bigga's being called back to rehearsals now, so we break for a late lunch. It's a choice of The New Golden Duck Chinese Take Away or the Caribbean place half a mile up the road. We do the walk and settle for salt fish and akee. Or rather, the others do. I choose the goat curry on plantains and soon regret it.

Back in Theorem, Bigga's at the keyboards and a couple of pretty female vocalists are delivering more saccharine Lovers Rock. And that's where we see Big Youth, in among them, gyrating his hips to the pounding bass and chugging upbeat of the guitar. He's chaperoned by a petite Italian lady from an artists' agency called Roots Rockers. She's Trish, and she's exhausted because they've only just returned from a nightmare flight from Spain. Trish is a miracle of calm and efficiency in the maelstrom of the struggling reggae business and it's clear all the artists adore her. Trish has offered us the opportunity to interview Big Youth, the toaster who excited British reggae fans with his revolutionary, rasta-inspired lyrics in the mid '70s. He's on top form today, his wiry body twisting and swaying in the interview chair as he sings lines from 'Hit The Road Jack', telling me how the great Ray Charles called him up one Christmas-time to admit that Big Youth's version was just 'the best'. 'Big Youth stole the scene,' he concludes. Modesty isn't one of Big Youth's virtues. But I can vouch for his status, and integrity. I first met him inside Randy's Record shop in Kingston Jamaica back in '77. He was checking out the sales of his album - visiting these record stores was about the only way an artist could tell how many were selling. He was as big a name as Marley at the time, and revered both on the island and over here. We met again - by chance - in Lagos, Nigeria, when he was on the run from some unscrupulous promoter. He's older and greyer now, but with no loss of energy, showmanship or sharp humour. And the red, gold and green implants in his front teeth are still there.

The filming days at Theorem haven't only been productive for our ninety minute programme, they've also been enormous fun. Maybe it's the familiarity and affection the artists have for this building, or maybe it's what they call 'the spirits' of the house: a combination of all those sounds and experiences imbedded in the cracking plaster walls, the creaky floorboards which once the feet of hallowed artists trod, or the reverberating bass you can hear down Theorem's honeycomb of corridors.

We'll be back here later in the week to interview the fiery, bubbly Lovers Rock singer Sylvia Tella, from Manchester; and Tippa Irie who came to fame DJing for the Saxon sound system, and maybe Dennis Bovell, the multi-talented producer/song writer and bass player, who did so much to anglicise reggae music in this country. Oh, and Trish says Dennis Alcapone's coming by, the dapper, bowler-hatted vocalist who brought a whole new style of toasting to these shores with songs like 'Guns Don't Argue': 'Don't call me Scarface, my name is Capone, C-A-P-O-N-E!'

For him, we'll haul our equipment boxes down the dark corridors of Theorem (we never could find the light switches, thriftily hidden away in recesses above door frames). Because we'll place him in a room, behind the studio, which is every reggae fan's dream, an Aladdin's cave of antique tape machines and mixers, and an expansive crimson casting couch. The wood-trim Rainderk desk dates from the early '70s when Reggae first exploded onto our pop charts with songs like 'Young Gifted And Black', bringing an upbeat musical thrill not just to those of Caribbean origin and the packs of skinheads who followed them around the country, but to the whole nation. This mixing desk was donated by Pete Townshend of The Who. It has made history since, recording reggae artists like The Wailers, Gregory Isaacs, Aswad, Janet Kay, Maxi Priest ... and so many more.

The traffic's slow on Willesden High Road as we leave the studios and T- Jae waves us into the evening gridlock and shuts the gates. Back-in-the-day, Theorem would be filling up with dreadlocked musicians and their natty entourage, ready for another all night session. Sometimes it still does, but with the proliferation of cheap home studios and a music industry in crisis, it's a whole lot quieter now. No sessions tonight. Just the rattling pipes, the whispering corridors, the vacant studio and the ghosts of British reggae history.

#2011 #reggae britannia #bbc four #bbc #bbc news #reggae #roots reggae #video #youtube #black music #music #west indians #caribbean #black british #documentary #documentaries

[bubmyg]

Hot and sweet 💓 Sweet and sexy Ceo Jin. Pls. been waiting to req this

word count: 589

His secretary half glanced in your direction, eyeing the exploding bouquet wrapped up in the crook of your elbows more so than studying the identity of the person wanting entrance to the heavy oak door. An affirming beep sounded through the hall as she jabbed it underneath her desk, allowing you to fumble the unlocked handle in your full hands as you managed to messily bump inside. 

Seokjin’s back was to you, broad shoulders stretching out from the high back of his desk chair. His posture didn’t falter even as he hunched over one of the handful of monitors dotted about the expensive red wood of his desk, exuberant confidence spilling from and encasing the entire vicinity of his being as he continued to clack absently at his keyboard. 

His attention didn’t startle when your toe kicked into the door, when your heel propped it open as you stumbled inside, when the plastic encasing the flowers in crinkled as you squeezed to keep your hold on it, when the door clicked shut behind you. Instead, when you huffed, a barely audible articulation of relief, he jumped. 

A hand wrapped over his heart, chair rotating to face you. Wide eyes zeroed in on yours first, oppositely ignoring the vegetation seemingly growing out of the waistband of your skirt. Mumbled curses erased the surprise painted over his features, instead morphing into a soft smile as he shoved himself up, stalking around the side of his desk to tower over you. 

“Hello, darling,” Seokjin mused. His hands dusted away some stray pens and papers to slot a hip against the slick wood, regarding you with knuckles tucked underneath his chin. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”

“I got off early,” You hauled the flowers around, presenting them to him in outstretched arms, “I wanted to bring you something.”

“Oh?” His amusement covered his pretend at being surprised, cocking a single eyebrow as he moved to take them from you. He placed the protruding stems against his thighs, using his free hand to gently stroke over velvet stems, “You got these for me?”

You nodded, stopping to peck his cheek in route for sliding into one of the two chairs situated in front of his desk. “You’ve been working really hard lately with out much reward,” You shrugged, shrugging off your sandals to pull your feet up underneath you. “Those looked really nice.”

Seokjin nodded, mostly to himself as he turned to delicately sprawl the length of the flowers across his desk length calendar. “Funnily enough-” He began, kicking up off his desk to round it, disappearing for a second as he crouched. He reemerged wielding a glass vase toppled high in beautiful white roses, petal plump lips mirroring the expanding bounce of flowers as he made his way to you, “-I was going to have these sent to your office later today-” He held on until you gathered the vase firmly in your grasp, ducking over to press a lingering kiss against your forehead, “-you saved me the trip.”

You hummed, happily placing the vase on the floor beside you. Instead you busied your hands with wrapping his tie around one hand, tugging until Seokjin was leaning over you again. “Thank you, baby,” You hushed, plucking at the knot in the silk until it loosened around his neck, “They’re really nice.”

“Thank you,” Long fingers gripped into the wooden arms of the chair you perched in, dropping a soft kiss to the bridge of your nose, “for always thinking of me.”

#kim seokjin #bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts scenario #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #jin scenarios #seokjin scenarios #kim seokjin scenario #bts imagine #jin imagine #seokjin imagine #jin x reader #i didnt know what else to write so sorry for the abrupt ending akfjdsk #Anonymous

[l-x-ie]

Songs and Kisses

Ch. 6 of Altea High

Lance sprinted down the rest of the way that led up to his front door, backpack thumping rhythmically against his side. He slung his bag from his shoulder, got his keys, and opened the door shouting, “Did you kids remember your Temper Gummies?”  

“Yeah!” a voiced piped up.

Two sets of feet scampered down the stairs followed by a loud thump and a shout. Lance dropped his bag in the entryway, let the door swing shut, and rushed over to see his two younger sisters piled on top of each other. The shorter one struggled under the other who slumped even further, crushing their sibling under them.

“Melodyyyyy! Get off! Lance!”

Smothering his chuckles back he hoisted the older sister by the armpits, releasing the younger. Despite Melody going limp in his hold, increasing her weight tenfold—what is his mother feeding this girl?—he held her under one arm like a football.

Cora, the rambunctious eight-year old, leapt up and fled the room shouting, “Freedom! Sweet freedom!”

Melody’s body shook with laughter and peered up at her big brother through her chestnut bangs. Her big blue eyes sparkling with mirth. He scrunched up his nose in a exaggerated glare. “Did you guys really take your gummies?”

She nodded and he dropped her, she landed on the carpet with a little poof, her little body splayed as she embraced the floor. He stood over her for a second or two before abandoning his own flesh and blood.

It was only a few more seconds she lay prone before she skipped up and followed him into the living room. “Cora! Do you have homework?” he yelled into the house.

“No!” Her faint voice drifted from somewhere on the other side of the house.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m in third-grade, how much homework do you think I have?” Her voice steadily decreased from shouting to a reasonable decibel as she walked through the door with a handful of cookies.

“I dunno,” he swiped two cookies while Melody stole another despite their sister’s cry. “Maybe they’re secretly having you work on government secrets under the guise of homework.”

“Pfftt,” Cora rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, hermano.” She flopped on the couch, lengthwise, dark hair fanned out over the cushions. Scrounging out the remote from between the cushions she turned on the TV and put on some cartoon that he hasn’t kept up with.

He turned away from the kid in the bear hat talking to a girl that was made of fire to Melody who was patiently waiting on the piano bench, flipping through her music sheets.

He sat next to her on a bench that barely fit two people, but would comfortably sit a ten-year-old and a gremlin. So if Pidge could teach his sister piano then that would be great, but she doesn’t, so he either sits with his left butt cheek off the bench or get a bigger bench. Sadly, the bigger bench won’t fit in the living room so half butt cheek it is.

“Are you sure you didn’t change your mind on the piano?”

She shook her head as the tapped a simple tune on the keys. Listening closely, he could hear the slightly out of tune Yankee Doodle Dandy.

“Y’know, the guitar is pretty cool, I could teach you the guitar. And it’s mobile!”

She stared intently at him, sky blue eyes piercing his soul, as she played out the theme song for Charlie Brown, slowly but forceful.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, I get it. I’m just saying there might be better options out there than the piano.”

After a few hours at the piano he could hear the door click thrice, one in one direction and the second in the other and one last firm one. “What have I told you about locking this door!”

Lance winced and bit his tongue before responding. “Sorry, Mamá! Won’t happen again!”

“That’s what you always say, tonto.”

His mother came over to the piano and ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead then Melody’s. “Mijo, the day you remember to lock the door is the day the world ends.”

She walked over where Cora was passed out on the couch and maneuvered her dead-to-the-world body to something more comfortable before collapsing on the couch. After a minute she rustled out stacks of paper out of her bag and set them next to her on the well-loved sofa.

“Taking home work again? Tsk, tsk, tsk, what would dad say?”

“Well considering he’s away on a case that would make him a hypocrite.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he reciprocated with Melody peeking from behind him to back him up.

He took out his phone and looked up a sheet music on it. Might as well make the last bit of practice time fun. The printer in the office adjacent to the living room whirring loudly as he found the one he wanted. His mom always did her work in the living room with the kids, why she has an office he doesn’t know.

“Can I know who it is?” he asked as he walked to get the music sheets.

His mother doesn’t bother answering him until he’s back in the room. “You know it’s confidential but I will say that it’s a win.”

Lance nodded. “Cool, cool… are you meeting Plax tomorrow?”

“Yes, I assume she told you?”

“Yeah, it’s the monthly report, but I will say that she’s been doing great at school if you want my opinion.”

His mamá looks at him with her big brown eyes. “Lance, you know that I don’t think that Plaxum is a bad kid. These check-ins are to make sure that she’s adapting.”

Lance pursed his lips and tapped out the notes slowly, hearing that familiar tune that his sisters were playing since the movie came out. Melody’s worried frown turned into a smile that showed every tooth including the adorable crooked canine. She clapped and eagerly started to copy his finger movements in the higher key. He said without looking up from the keyboard, “I know. It, it just feels like you’re treating her like she’s… she’s a villain or something. Like you’re checking in because you don’t trust her.”

“Lance, mijo, it’s not like that at all.” She got up and stood next to the piano, arms folded on top. “I know that it might look like it but I can’t change the system. Even if they’re good kids the government wants to make sure that the public is safe and this is the solution they’ve come up with. Kids of supervillains make the public uneasy and it’s either monthly lunch dates with me or her not going to school.”

He didn’t stop playing but let his head drop closer to her. She carded her fingers through his hair soothingly before moving around the bench and crouching down next to his sister. “I just don’t think it’s fair.”

“It’s not fair, mijo. But education is important and with education she can help the world be a little less unfair.” She smiled and pecked Melody’s cheek. “Buen trabajo, mija! Qué canción es esto? Suena familiar. It sounds familiar.”

He snuck a look at his sister who snuck one back to him with a little smile. Nope. She wasn’t talkin’, in Spanish or otherwise. Maybe they should try sign language next.

Lance knew she tried to change the subject. He knew that she would answer if he continued but decided to let it die, he answered for Melody and his mother. “It’s Evermore, Mamá. Someone put up the piano sheet music for it.”

“Remind me which is Evermore, mijo?”

“You know,” He started from the beginning, Melody’s fingers tangling with his before she took them back. His voice was a little too high to match Josh Groban. “I was the one who had it all. I was the master of my fate. I never needed anybody in my life. I learned the truth too late.”

“Ooooh! Beauty and the Beast!”

“Yeah,” He slowed his fingers and put Melody’s small hands back on the keys, pointing to the notes on the sheet music, letting her make her way through them. “Can I go out tomorrow?”

“Lance, it’s a school night.”

He looked at her, mouth agape. “Mamá! It’s Saturday tomorrow!”

Her body jerked and she whipped out her phone, going to her calendar app. “What?! It can’t be Friday already!” Her shoulders slump and her head cants to the side. “It’s Friday. Where does the time go.”

“You said you were meeting Plax tomorrow! Didn’t you know which day!”

“I knew that I was meeting her tomorrow I just didn’t realize it was Friday!”

”Aye por dios.” Lance laughed.

His mom hit him on the shoulder with her phone over his little sister. “Aye, don’t swear!”

He held up his hands with Melody ducking underneath them. ”Lo siento, lo siento, Mamá!” She stopped her assault, with a disapproving frown. He tried not to laugh, as he was sure she would try to beat the swear words out of his brain. She had a weird Cuban-Catholic-mother spider-sense whenever any of her children were swearing. He might have speculated with his older siblings whether or not she secretly had a superpower to sense swearwords from her offspring despite evidence of her being a civilian. “So can I go out tomorrow?”

She rolled her eyes, her entire body following dramatically. “I suppose. Is it with that superkid you were talking about?”

Lance flushed red. He allowed his lips to slip into a sly smile. “Maybe.”

 It’s just for coffee. It’s just for coffee. The mantra in his head was on repeat as he made his way to the local coffee shop. He tried to calm his heartbeat, the constant thumping against his breastbone distracting. There was nothing to worry about! He was Lance the most controlled superkid at Altea High! He was cool as ice. Ice Ice Baby was his theme song. Nothing could shake him. Not explosions, not a fire-powered mullet, not Professor Slav on one of his million of dimension possibility calculation ramblings, and certainly not a coffee date.

He approached the glass doors. He took a deep breath and exhaled his worries out. She said yes to the date. She said yes to the date. She likes you. There’s nothing to worry about. It’ll go great.

He walked through the doors and in the sunny corner with a frothy frosted thing, a teal straw with a pink ring poking out of the whipped cream, was his date. Dyed blonde hair pulled into two perky pigtails, her black roots only serving to make her that more noticeable, as if anyone wouldn’t be already in awe and staring. Her normally warm brown eyes purple and larger from the colored circle lenses and golden skin glowed in the sunlight.

He put on a winning smile. “Hey, Nyma, did I keep you waiting?”

Her pink, pink lips tugged into a smile. “It’s fine, you’re right on time. I like that.”

He relaxed some and slouched into the comfy armchair across from her. He made a show of looking around the quiet coffee shop, empty except for the barista. “You might be asked to leave soon. You’re making the other women look bad.”

She giggled wind chimes and sparkling water and his heart took a dive. What he wouldn’t do to hear that laugh again. She leaned forward, the neckline of her top dipping. “Very smooth, very smooth. I should call you Google, because you have everything I’m looking for.”

He clutched his hands to his heart and collapsed back into the cushions. His heart, his heart! Peeking and eye open he could see the cute little wrinkle in her nose when she giggles at his antics. He let his hands fall and let head fall to the side, soft smile apparent. “Out of all your beautiful curves, your smile is my favorite.”

She stopped laughing and blushed red across her cheekbones and it was the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Seriously, you’ve got to stop being so cute or else you’re going to put me into cardiac arrest.”

“Lance!” She playfully hit him on the knee. “You’re making me blush!”

He smiled again. “All in a day’s work, beautiful.”

She set aside her drink and scooted forward in her chair and took his hands between hers. “Lance,” She smiled softly at their joined hands and rubbed her thumbs in distracting circles on his skin. “I wanna be honest with you.” She took a deep breath. “I—I really, really, really like you. I like your smile, I like your positive attitude, and I love your eyes... I would really like us to date. Exclusively.” She peeked up at him with her heart-stopping eyes.

Lance felt his heart stop and race double-time. He tugged on her hands to get a little closer, her head tilted in confusion before he slotted their lips together. She melted against him, head tilting further for him to get better access, scooting closer until her hands wrapped around his neck. Her breath was sweet and smelled of coffee and he could feel the stickiness of her lipstick. His hand drifted up to cradle her head, the warmth of her skin permeating the slight coolness of his skin from when he used his powers that morning when he iced the floor of his sisters’ room as a prank.

He slowly broke the kiss, out of breath. Looking at her perfect face her eyes were still closed and her lips still parted. Looking at those pink-smudged lips he pecked them one last time and once on her nose, smearing some of that pink on that little button. She giggled. Eyes still closed her lips tilted into a smile, relaxed, he felt his face heat. It was a good thing she had her eyes closed or else she could see how red his face was becoming. He responded, “I would love to be your boyfriend.”

Finally her eyes opened and crinkled with happiness, she rested her forehead against his and rubbed the tips of their noses together, transferring that pink. “Then I guess I’m your girlfriend.”

Ch.1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

Ao3

#vld #nyma #lance #klance #nyma x lance #Alrea High #Sky High AU #my writing #lex writes #I fucking forgot to post on tumblr AGAIN #i need to remind myself #good god #so here you go #if you don't read on Ao3 #two updates #whooo

[heroicidean-archive]

Coffee and Confessions

Pairings: Charlie/Dorothy, Dean/Castiel (Darlie is an established relationship)

Word count: 2421

Summary: Live-texting a practical stranger’s love confession instead of working on your term paper? Always a good idea (inspired by this post)

read on AO3

Autumn colors streaked across the Café Singer window. Many trails of conjoining raindrops melded the rich russet and vibrant ochre hues from the trees lining the campus sidewalks. The scent of freshly roasted coffee beans warmed the air of the café. Soft strumming from an acoustic guitar came from the overhead speakers. It was a nice, peaceful place for the college students to come study.

Charlie Bradbury, unfortunately, was not enjoying any bit of this quiet Thursday afternoon. She nursed her latte, squishing the tepid coffee around in her mouth as she stared at her computer screen. Her last minute term paper stared right back -- rather smugly, too, she thought. She rolled her eyes as she closed them, sighing as her fingers dug into her scalp.

“I shouldn’t have procrastinated. Dorothy was right,” she said, opening her eyes to glare at her dim computer screen. On the bar counter, her phone buzzed, the vibrations shifting the phone slightly left. Snorting, Charlie picked it up and opened her messages. “It’s like you knew.”

Dee 💖 4:16pm // still at the café? 4:16pm // you know, I told you that you shouldn’t procrastinate. Makes everything harder.

4:17pm // you’re so smart I knew there was a reason I kept you around

Charlie set down her phone once she sent the text, picking it back up a second later.

4:19pm // I’m about half done now. If all goes well I shouldn’t be that much longer.

Dee 💖 4:19pm // well, at least now I know that there’s a reason other than my breathtaking good looks

Charlie sniffed in amusement, glancing over her computer screen at her favorite barista, Castiel. He must have felt her gaze, because he looked up a second later, his eyebrows raising in question.

“Just a refill, thanks.” Her phone buzzed in her hands twice as Castiel walked over to grab her mug.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Dee 💖 4:20pm // oh hey I just remembered 4:20pm // can you go to the store and pick up some milk on the way home?

4:20pm // what, are we out?

Dee 💖 4:21pm // no, I just like to have a surplus of milk. 4:21pm // Just in case, you know 4:21pm // you never know when there’s gonna be a shortage 4:22pm // when the milkolypse comes, it might be the only way we can make money we need to survive 4:23pm // do you want us to starve??

Charlie giggled into her hand as Castiel set her latte down. “Memes?” he asked, with a curious smirk.

“No. Well, my girlfriend thinks she’s a meme sometimes.”

Castiel chuckled, his eyes flicking to the door when the little golden bell above the doorway jingled. He made a quiet, sort-of pained noise that made Charlie stop typing her response to Dorothy for a second. She looked over her shoulder to find that it was only Dean, the night cashier at Café Singer. He waved merrily to the both of them as he headed toward the back room to dump his jacket and backpack. Charlie went to go back to typing.

4:25pm // no need to be a smart ass 4:25pm // though I love that about you

Dee 💖 4:26 // you love everything about me

4:26pm // true 😘

With that, Charlie set her phone screen down n the counter top and went back to her paper. “Uh,” she looked back up when Castiel muttered, “Just let me know if you need anything.”

She nodded and reread the last line she typed, scrunching up her nose at her double use of very…or even her single use. As she backspaced, she glanced over to see Castiel leaning his hip against the counter as Dean counted the money in the register.

After a second of contemplation, her gaze drifted back to the two of them. Dean was laughing at something Castiel said, clapping his hand on his shoulder. Castiel clasped his hands behind his back, his fingers fidgeting. She heard his nervous giggle as Dean’s laughter died down. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she watched the pair of them. Dean’s fingers grazed Castiel’s arm before he turned to go to the back room again. Castiel watched him go, his shoulders relaxing a little as he sighed.

Before she realized what she was doing, Charlie reached for her phone.

4:34pm // ok so 4:34pm // you know my favorite barista?

Dee 💖 4:35pm // Cas, right? 4:35pm // what about him

4:35pm // I think he has a crush on the cashier 🙂

Dee 💖 4:37pm // you’re totally distracted now, aren’t you

4:37pm // maybe 4:38pm // don’t judge me 4:38pm // for the record, they’d be almost as cute as us if they got together

Dee 💖 4:39pm // babe, first of all, that’s fucking impossible

4:39pm // bitch, I said almost

Dee 💖 4:40pm // and second, I’m gonna need updates on this torrid affair

Dean came out from the back room with an armful of to-go cups. “So, uh,” Castiel started to say as Dean approached and was cut off by his nod to the back room.

“Can you grab some of the lids? My arms were too full.”

“Yeah, okay.” Castiel glanced over his shoulder in Charlie’s direction as he started for the backroom. In turn, she directed her gaze to her computer screen, typing without thinking. When she finally focused, all she saw was two lines full of keyboard smash. She started backspacing as Castiel came back in, taking note of the way he gulped when his eyes found Dean again.

4:44pm // oh shit I think he’s gonna confess his feelings 4:45pm // 🤗🤗 idk idk that’s just the vibe I’m getting

Dee 💖 4:45pm // IT’S TOO BLAVE

Charlie snorted, covering her nose and mouth with her hand when Dean and Castiel looked her way. She ducked her head and opened Giphy to search for the perfect Princess Bride quote in response to her girlfriend’s reference. Castiel cleared his throat.

“So…” Castiel’s shoulders tensed and Charlie stopped scrolling. “Uh, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and I understand if it does and I—“

4:47pm // OMG IT’S HAPPENING

“Cas, just say it,” Dean said, stacking the paper cups on the outside of the counter. “I’m sure whatever it is will be – “

“Ihaveacrushonyou,” he said all at once, inhaling deeply and letting it out. The stacks of paper cups collapsed and spilled across the counter and onto the floor on both sides. All three of them froze at the hollow cacophony of noises that followed. Charlie was the first to move, the buzz of her phone in her hand bringing her back to life. Castiel was next, rushing around to the other side to pick up the cups that fell.

Dee 💖 4:49pm // WELL?!?

4:50pm // IDK 4:50pm // I’M FREAKING OUT GIVE ME A SEC

“I’m sorry, I messed this up,” Castiel said, his voice sounding on the verge of tears. Dean was still standing frozen, staring at the fallen cups. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean reanimated as Castiel's head came back into view above the counter. “Uh, uh, for how long?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“I don’t know, really.” Castiel let out a nervous chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “About six months, I think?”

4:56pm // okay so barista has had a crush for six months 4:57pm // BOI MAKE YOUR MOVE 4:58pm // omg ok so the cashier said he needs to go in the back and think about it 4:58pm // that was the most forlorn look I’ve ever seen 4:58pm // like, if you looked forlorn up in the dictionary you would see a picture of the barista at this very moment in time

Dee 💖 4:59pm // 😓 I’m so nervous for him now poor thing 4:59pm // did the cashier know he was gay?

4:59pm // idk tbh 5:00pm // I don’t think he’s gay. I seem to remember him having a black ring on his middle finger

After a minute of no response, Charlie set her phone down and grabbed her latte, nervously sipping at her coffee. Another minute and a scalded tongue later, her mug was empty. She set it down with the small frown, glancing back at Castiel. He was restacking the cups, looking over to the doorway at each hint of movement, even if it was just a shadow.

Poor guy, she thought, twisting the mug back and forth by the handle. A small part of her wanted to ask for a refill, but she also liked the thought of not being a complete asshole. She looked back at her computer when Castiel noticed her staring. Her screen had gone black with her inactivity.

“Another refill?” Charlie offered him a smile as he walked up to the counter, his shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks around here,” he said with a smirk. When he grabbed her mug, she glanced down at his right hand, noting the black ring gleaming in the low light of the café. Yup. Ace like I thought.

“Are…” she cleared her throat, glancing over to the back doorway. “Are you okay?”

Sighing, Castiel smiled a he turned back to the cappuccino machine. “I will be.” Charlie looked back down at her phone when it buzzed.

Dee 💖 5:05pm // oh ok 5:05pm // and the other guy?

5:06pm // honestly no clue 5:06pm // I don’t really interact with him too often 5:07pm // but, if I had to guess, I’d say he’s bi

The doors from the back room swung open and Charlie dropped her phone, freezing as it clattered away across the counter. Castiel was lucky enough to have just set down the mug as Dean approached. He started to say something but was stopped when Dean took him into his arms and kissed him. Just like that. Going by the sort of strangled whimper Castiel made, it surprised him just as much as it did her.

Charlie slowly leaned forward for her phone.

5:11pm // HE’S BACK 5:12pm // yeah okay so they’re kissing

Dean pulled away, a smile tugging up at the corner of his lips as he rested his forehead on Castiel’s. “I,” he said after a minute, his fingers uncurling from the back of Castiel’s uniform polo. “I like you, too.”

The tips of Castiel’s ears turned a bright red and he ducked his head and buried it in Dean’s shoulder. Charlie’s phone vibrated several times, but she ignored it for the moment.

“I have for a while I think. I just, I don’t know, couldn’t admit it to myself.”

Castiel turned his head, pecking Dean’s cheek. “I-I’m glad.” Charlie’s phone vibrated again, both Dean and Castiel turning to look at her. Both flushed an even deeper red and Dean stepped away from Castiel, wiping his palms on the thighs of his jeans while Castiel took a couple steps toward Charlie.

"Do you mind if we leave for a few minutes?”

“Oh, no. You guys are totally fine.” She watched as Cas reached for Dean’s hand. They intertwined their fingers as they walked to the back room together. The doors swung shut once more as Charlie unlocked her phone.

Dee 💖 5:13pm // I’ll have you know 5:14pm // I fell off the couch and scared Elphaba 5:17pm // OK WHY AREN’T YOU RESPONDING I DEMAND UPDATES

5:20pm // THEY WENT TO GO TALK 5:20pm // they’re so cute I’m fine 5:20pm // also, poor kitty. Is she hiding now?

Dee 💖 5:20pm // aaaaaah I’m so happy 😄😄 5:21pm // you crazy kids I’m so proud of you little history makers 5:21pm // lol 5:21pm // and yeah, she was under the bed. I'm cuddling her 5:22pm // What’s happening now

5:22pm // not sure, they haven’t come back yet 5:22pm // also we need to rewatch Yuri!!! On Ice again when I get back home 5:23pm // the barista reminded me of you though, when you first told me that you liked girls

Dee 💖 5:23pm // all in one breath?

5:23pm // yup 5:13pm // it was cute 5:13pm // both times 5:14pm // you were cuter though, but I might be biased

Dee 💖 5:24pm // Just a little 😘

5:25pm // wait, Dee, they’re back

They were still holding hands as they walked back into the lobby, Castiel poking Dean in the side. It took them a couple of minutes to remember that Charlie was there, Castiel doing a double take in her direction. He let go of Dean’s hand and went over to the glass pastries case and grabbed one of the latex gloves from the box by the register. “You like chocolate, right?”

“Hell yeah,” Charlie said, leaning her elbows on the counter. Castiel grabbed a chocolate muffin with his gloved hand, picking up a small plate as he walked over to where Charlie was and set the muffin down.

“On the house. For putting up with us.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m so happy for you two.”

Castiel grinned as he turned to return to Dean, and Charlie tore a chunk from the top of the muffin, chewing it as she tapped the touchpad of her laptop. 5:32pm. There was not a shred of motivation in her body, mind, and/or spirit to work on this term paper at the moment. She rolled her eyes, licking the bits of melted chocolate off her fingertips when she finished the muffin.

5:34pm // ugh I can’t work under these conditions 5:34pm // too cute, I can’t concentrate 5:35pm // I’m packing up

She closed her computer and bit back her smile. Dean and Castiel were trying their hardest to conceal their clasped hands and the occasional kiss on the cheek.

Dee 💖 5:36pm // k see you soon 5:37pm // don’t forget the milk

5:37pm // don’t worry I won’t forget our source of income for the milkolypse

The golden bell tickled as she opened the door, both Dean and Castiel calling out their goodbyes as Charlie stepped outside. She tucked her computer under her arm as she waved back, her phone in hand. She made it to the campus street corner before her phone vibrated again. While she waited for the crosswalk light to change, she checked her new message.

Dee 💖 5:38pm // lol 5:38pm // ❤️💛💙💚💜

#Destiel #Darlie #destielfanficnet #Destiel fanfic #SPN fanfic #Darlie fanfic #fanfic #my writing #SPN #Charlie Bradbury #Dorothy Baum #Castiel #Dean Winchester #OTP: I'd rather have you #OTP: Stop ruining my childhood #I stayed up late last night and wrote this lol