but she lets him to have that moment

Ok I love this excited anon. haha 

1. Kal-El confirming the fact that Kara is too damn smart and good to be dating someone who’s anything but amazing was everything I didn’t know I needed to hear.

2. Finally she told him she loves him and I don’t even have words. That scene is cancelled for the suffering it caused me but I still love it.

3. YEEES! They’re getting married. Alex realized that she can lose Maggie at any moment so she doesn’t want to ever let her go. I’m not ok.

4. I KNEW CAT KNEW. I JUST NEW IT!!! She’s too smart and perceptive. 

Kitchen Counter (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Smut.
Word count: 2.4k

Part two: Laundry Room. Part three: The Club.

Summary: “Baby, we’re in your parents’ kitchen.” You muttered, squeaking softly, trying to push his arm away with both of your hands, but he just kept pressing those fingers into your core. “That’s what makes it so naughty.” He whispered against your neck before his mouth wound up back against yours.


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Sam's face and Dean's heart

Sam is hurting too. He just lost a brother.

But there’s a potentially world-ending, apocalypse-starting antichrist baby in the house who needs to be taken out or taken care of.

He looks at Dean’s face, and knows that Dean won’t follow him inside. That Dean can’t leave Cas now.

He lets Dean have his moment because no matter how much danger they’re in, Dean just lost his love.

Dean told Mary that Azazel killed the girl Sam loved.

Bobby told the boys that Mary tells the story of losing John Winchester, the man she loved.

And Dean Winchester just lost the man he loves.

Dean is going to have to deal with that realization when Cas is resurrected.

A cage of golden glass

Synopsis: There was you. An ordinary human girl, wrong place, wrong time. Then there was Loki. God of Mischief, war criminal. When Thor brings you to Asgard to ensure your safety, there is nobody else you come to hate more passionately than his evil foster brother. Then Odin finally decides on a new and much more effective kind of punishment for Loki, causing your whole world to fall apart. He would simply marry him off to a mortal, someone who is, by all means, “beneath” him. You.

Pairing: Loki x Reader
Rating: M
Chapter: 1/1 (Oneshot)
Words: 7217
Warnings: smut, forced marriage

Read it on AO3!

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→ all that is gold (m)

Originally posted by chimtae


Sub!BTS collab

pairing → Taehyung x Reader

genre → roommate!au + sugar baby!au, smut, angst

warnings sub!taehyung, skype sex, masturbation, orgasm denial, possessiveness, slight breath play, oral sex, dirty talk, thigh riding, tae ends up sort of a switch? idk

☆ word count → 11.2k

☆ summary → As a college student struggling to make ends meet, Taehyung resorts to a less than ethical method to satisfy his appetite for expensive treats. The last thing he wants is for you to find out how he acquires the Gucci in his closet… however this proves to be difficult when you are his roommate.

or : Taehyung is a sugar baby and somehow thinks he can keep this a secret


☆ a/n → ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Whipped...friends??

Y/N would have never imagined the amount of attention being Harry’s best friend would bring. There’s also always speculations, suspicions that the two might be more than friends, given the fact that when they go out, it’s like they might as well be joined at the hip. Where Harry is on a day off, Y/N is sure to follow, and the paparazzi gets pictures of it all. But Y/N’s always been just a friend. It’s not like she trails behind him like a puppy, no. Harry just always loves having her around, finds comfort in the way she talks to him without a hint of glorification. Tracing back to the beginning of their friendship, Y/N didn’t tip toe around Harry, trying to make sure to not say the wrong thing, never really made impressing Harry a priority. And Harry really appreciated that.

And the relentless bother and questions of “are you two dating?” doesn’t end with the public, no, it continues, and probably gets more intense coming from their group of friends.

Whenever Y/N steps away from Harry’s side, there’s always one of the boys whispering to him about how they’re sure she’s got him wrapped around her pretty little finger. How at the call of his name, Harry never thinks twice about dropping everything and tending to her wants and needs. They make it sound awful in a way, as if Y/N is always needy of Harry and demanded his attention. But they don’t mean it like that really, just like bothering him about it, specially because he gets all worked up in trying to defend her.

They even comment about how they’ve taken notice to the fact Harry’s smile can stretch for miles at the mention of her name, which Harry has never denied. Only nods his head in amusement at the fact others notice.

And maybe their secret little escapes to what they refer to as “friend dates” are no help. They’ll be having a night in on the sofa, Harry sat at the edge of it, elbow propped on the arm rest, mindlessly scrolling through texts and thumbs swift on the screen, typing replies to friends. And obviously Y/N’s with him, lying down and feet resting on his lap, her head flat on the cushion, eyes shut because she quite enjoys just lying about in a silent room, knowing Harry’s there. And it’s not until he shuffles to stand up, pushing her legs off him in the process, that she opens her eyes and follows his body across the room where he doubles over to slip on his YSL boots before he goes for his coat. With a small whisper of “ye’ comin’?” Y/N is sure to follow his steps. Most nights like that they end up in some random bar or restaurant, sat on a stool or a booth, laughing and eating. Harry will often opt to sit next to her rather than in front, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder. Even kiss at her neck sometimes.

And when the boys catch a glimpse of the paparazzi photos taken of them all cuddly on a random Tuesday night at a local cafe, Harry’s phone just about overloads with texts from Niall going on about “I knew it!” And “just ask her, man!”

So no, it’s not out of the ordinary for Louis to make a ‘wuh-PSSSH’ sound followed by something snarky like “so whipped, mate. And she’s not even ye’ girlfriend,” when he notices Harry’s stare trailing to where Y/N goes as she makes breakfast for the lot. Harry tries to disregard the comment as Louis takes a seat next to him at the kitchen island.

“What’re you guys going on about over there?” Y/N asks, giggling to herself, “got Harry blushing and all.”

And of course with no chill what so ever, Liam pats Harry on the back, a devilish smile playing on his lips, “Harry here has found himself head over heels.”

Y/N can’t deny that her heart sinks a little at that, but she doesn’t let it faze her, or at least she doesn’t show it. “Really?? Oh who is she??”

“Yeah, Harry! Tell our lovely Y/N who’s the lucky woman!” Harry would hope Niall would be the one not to indulge in his current tormenting.

But Harry can only look at Y/N, her eyes locked on his from across the room. And Harry swears he’s never seen her look at him the way she is right now.

And the boys don’t mean to over tease him this time, just wish he’d finally let it out and tell her because they’re rather sure Y/N feels the same. It’s hard not to notice the way she looks at him, eyes full of adoration and dare they say, love.

When the air has fallen silent for far too long, Liam decides to change the subject for Harry’s sake and stands up to give Y/N a hand with the pouring of the beverages.

“You two have gotten to the point where you grocery shop together.” Liam starts again when Y/N steps away for more milk, “you cook together. You do laundry together. You’re always going on dates. You go with her for manis and pedis, and I’m sure you enjoy it, too.”

“So wha’?? I like spendin’ time with her.” Harry doesn’t really see why that’s so bad, being whipped and all.

“You sleep together,” Louis chimes in, “hell, wouldn’t be surprised if you showered together.”

Now that’s just nonsense.

“Sod off ye’ prick.”


It’s been a few weeks since the day Y/N found out Harry’s interested in someone. And she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t keep her awake at night. Awake while she’s lying next to Harry because of the fact that they’d much rather sleep together than alone. But when she looks over at him, she can’t help but smile.

She’s lying on her side, eyes tracing his, rid of any wrinkles they get when he smiles or frowns. They trace all of him. From his eyes to his eyebrows, then his cheeks and to his nose, where she kisses lightly, careful not to wake him. He only crinkles it for a short second, to which she only smiles. Her eyes linger down his neck, tracing every muscle and crevice until she’s looking at the tattoos on his chest, the steady rise and fall of it has her breathing adapting to his.

It’s when she looks at his parted bubble gum pink lips that she raises a hand, her index finger ghosting over his bottom lip. The touch has Harry stirring, eyes open for a moment before he puckers his lips to peck her finger, a smile on his face. He flutters his eyes shut for a second before resting his hand on her waist and rubbing his thumb gently on the exposed skin. He moans in content, pulls her body closer to his and rests his lips on her hair line.

“Go t'sleep, pet.”

And why oh why did she ever think some friendly flirting and bed sharing with her best friend could never lead to any emotional attachment.


The cuddles hasn’t stopped. Harry’s lingering kisses and hugs hasn’t stopped. The boys teasing on Harry behind Y/N’s back hasn’t stopped. Y/N sleeping in Harry’s bed hasn’t stopped. And Y/N’s constant self reminder that Harry might just be in love with someone else has not stopped.

If she’s being quite honest, she’s not liking the way the boys snicker and whisper to Harry when she walks off. And she really doesn’t like how whatever and whoever they’re whispering about is making Harry blush and smile sheepishly like crazy. Wishes she knew what they’re always being so secretive about. But giving it a second thought, maybe she doesn’t wanna know. It’s all the same to her now though.

The movie on the telly doesn’t seem to distract her anymore, not from her thoughts which are taking over her mind the more time she spends in Harry’s home. And to add to that, the second she steps back into the room with a bowl of popcorn the boys go silent. It makes her feel awful…left out, but she’s sure they don’t mean to do it. She should be thankful right? At least they’re nice enough not to talk about Harry’s girl in front of her, or maybe that’s just something she wants to believe.

“Oh popcorn.” Niall’s first to reach out and grab a handful before she’s even had the chance to get to her seat next to Harry.

“Thanks, love.” Harry whispers, kissing her cheek the second she sits down.

She notices out of the corner of her eye how Louis smirks and nods his head when Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder. What’s so funny??

The moment Harry presses another kiss to the top of her head is the moment she realizes she’s had enough. It’s the moment she realizes she can’t keep pretending and letting herself fall even more. Not after what Liam said.

“I have to go. It’s getting pretty late.” This catches everyone off guard, especially Harry.

When she stands up to leave, his fingers around her wrist are quick to make her stop and have her look down at him, still sat on the sofa. “Wha’ do ye’ mean? Ye’ always spend the night, poppet.”

His brows are furrowed now, grip tight on her wrist, fearing that if he loosens it she might just slip away.

Of course they can’t ignore the other people in the room though, so when Y/N’s eyes avert to the boys, Harry is quick to stand up and lead them away.

“Everythin’ a'right?” His eyes scan hers for answers, his hand now cupping her neck, thumb rubbing soothingly at her jaw.

The cool of his rings on her skin keep her at ease. But the uncertainty in her eyes has Harry feeling all types of useless.

“Tell me wha’s wrong, little one. Wha’ can I do to make ye’ feel better?”

And those words would have made no sense if it wasn’t for the sudden feeling of Harry wiping away a stray tear she didn’t notice she’d shed.

She can’t. She can’t break down. Not in front of him. What can she say for him to let her go??

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

But she’s sure he doesn’t believe her, not one bit. He knows her too well.

And she can tell he’s about to say something else, and she knows if she lets him, she’s sure to fall back into whatever they have.

“I’ve really got to go. I’ve got a date in an hour and I have to go get ready.”

As much bullshit of an excuse as that is, Harry’s grip on her wrist loosens, and the hand on her neck falls.

And she takes the opportunity to slip out the door.



Whipped…friends?? Or.. (Part Two)

Juvia isn’t a stalker

This is an old, very frustrating argument for Gruvia fans that shouldn’t even exist anymore. This post also shouldn’t exist because I am refuting something Juvia didn’t actually do, but this is what it’s come down to, sadly. The bottom line is that Juvia can not redeem herself for an issue that Mashima-sensei, the author, doesn’t believe exists (aka the non-existent stalking).

I. The amount of times Juvia watched Gray and why

Juvia did not stalk Gray EVER, but she did hang in the background. He and the guild had been the enemy. If she had walked right up to Gray and his friends, there would have been a backlash. It’s natural that she was afraid because of the damage she helped inflict. Despite this, she formed an affinity to Gray and Fairy Tail which she carefully approached to the best of her ability.

As it also shows in her memories, Juvia had a well-established history of being shunned because of her rain which further led to her tentative approach. Additionally, given the rejection and shunning of the past, Juvia lacked the developmental opportunity to refine social engagement. There was no malicious intent in her actions. She was afraid of being rejected again, so she kept her distance. 

And in fact, Juvia and Gajeel’s presence in Fairy Tail DID cause a backlash. Laxus and the Raijinshuu did get angry when they found out two former Phantom Lord members who had attacked the guild were allowed to join.

Yet, both Juvia and Gajeel made up for their former transgressions already against the specific members they had targeted by protecting them. Juvia protected Gray from Simon, and Gajeel protected Levy from Laxus. That was supposed to be their redemption…IT WAS THEIR REDEMPTION. As stated in the first paragraph, in bold this time: Juvia can not redeem herself for an issue that Mashima-sensei, the author, doesn’t believe exists (aka the non-existent stalking). 

Ultimately, Juvia did approach Gray when he was by himself to ask what he thought about her joining Fairy Tail.  This was their first direct meeting after they met in Chapter 56. Indirect encounters include chapter 67 where she observed from afar and delivered a bento and chapter 75 where we see her watching Gray and the rest of team Natsu at the resort.

It was at this point that Juvia approached Gray properly when she finally caught him alone, and they went to get drinks together. It’s supported by the manga that Juvia joining Fairy Tail would have caused a backlash, as even Gray was wary of her joining because of the things that they did, but he personally did not mind her joining.  Juvia then spent the rest of the arc openly helping Gray and his friends in the Tower Of Heaven. 

At the end of the arc, when Erza asked after Juvia, Gray was the one who knew her name, and where she had gone. Once team Natsu returned to FT, Juvia became a member, and Gray was quite happy about it. After chapter 75 Juvia has never in the manga followed Gray without his knowledge again until chapter 416, where she came to apologize for what happened to Gray’s father. 

When Gray seemed dismayed that Juvia had followed him to his parents grave, she immediately apologized

In fact, Juvia has apologized a few times within the series when she thought she upset Gray, including in 413 Days when she apologized for fearing that she ruined Gray’s day of mourning. But, in fact, Gray ended up also apologizing to her, because he thought it was his fault. He profusely apologized to her in chapter 416 as well while sobbing in her arms.

II. Gray’s feelings

If Gray was so uncomfortable and disliked Juvia’s presence, the above scene would not have happened. He appreciates and is grateful for Juvia always being next to him, which by default completely annihilates the claim that he is disgusted by her. This is obvious because we see the change in their relationship throughout the course of the manga, on panel. I repeat, Gray likes the fact that Juvia is always by his side and wants her there.

Furthermore, Juvia’s comedic advances and Gray’s reactions (which have actually become softer/changed) are exaggerated on purpose. Japanese love this type of humor use in their mangas. It’s meant to be lighthearted, not give off an awful message regarding a pairing. As with many shounen, panel space is often limited for character interactions, so “dramatic” presentations are necessary for conveying points. Mashima-sensei has only ever portrayed Juvia’s love as a positive thing for both characters. Her love for Gray has saved not just Gray’s life, but also the lives of others on multiple occasions. 

While it’s true Mashima-sensei loves using Juvia for comic relief from time to time, it’s important to not let the jokes outweigh the serious moments. In reality, we are not supposed to put so much stock into comedy. Adding to the fact that Juvia’s fight with Meredy proved her love for Gray to be genuine, there’s another factor some people seem to miss.  

In the final chapter of the Tartarus arc, Juvia was about to give up on her love for Gray because she believed she did not have the right to love him anymore. She truly thought it was for his sake, and was prepared to be hated by Gray forever. An obsessive person or crazy stalker would never do this. But Juvia did, expecting this would ruin any chance she had with Gray, and was positive she would be loathed. However she knew confessing what she did was the right thing to do and came clean. Here, Mashima-sensei is showing the difference between an unhealthy obsessed individual and someone who’s love is selfless as they put the other person’s feelings above their own. Above all, Gray didn’t let Juvia give up on him. He embraced her, thanked her, and cried in her arms.

Chapter 499 speaks for itself, so I really don’t see the need to touch upon it other than the fact that the Japanese raw text confirms that Gray does see Juvia as more than a friend, aka, a love interest. As if his actions in the chapter and prior to weren’t enough. Double suicide in Japan is one of the most romantic acts of love based on samurai history.

III. The definition of a stalker

  • a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention.
  • a person who harasses another person, as a former lover, a famous person, etc., in an aggressive, often threatening and illegal manner.

Neither of the above definitions describes Juvia’s character. Juvia would be the last person in the world to harass or threaten Gray in any way. The two times she watched him were harmless and there were justified reasons behind them. Back to the definition; Juvia doesn’t need to do any of these things, because she is Gray’s friend, and at this point, so much more than that. She’s a partner, they go on missions together, socialize together, and have even lived together. 

Real cases for stalking often involve the stalker having control over their victim, sometimes employing fear in a desperate attempt to maintain control, which Juvia has NEVER done. Admiring someone from afar is not the same as stalking them, especially when you don’t have the courage to talk to them. That’s why Juvia quickly threw the bento in Gray’s hands without trying to be noticed. She wanted to do nice things for him, but couldn’t do them directly out of nervousness. That’s not what stalkers do. And of course, as stated above, Juvia was about to give up on Gray. Stalkers aren’t willing to give up their ties with the person.

Juvia does not need to “stalk” Gray. She stands proudly by his side with no reluctance from him.

And even more importantly Gray has never expressed any adversity to Juvia’s presence. If anything, he has expressed the opposite. Gray of his own accord hangs around her. And Gray had mentioned once in 338 that he would say no to the things he dislikes from then on. Yet he had never said no before, nor after that statement. In fact, he contradicted his own statement later on by eating the bread Juvia offered him, and holding her hand in comfort during the Tartarus arc.  

We also have to keep in mind Gray falls under the tsundere character trope, which means his actions often contradict his words, and as stated above, his adverse reactions are often played off comedically, because he is not being honest about his actual feelings. Juvia’s earnest feelings towards Gray usually cause the cool and collected character to lose his composure. That’s the joke. 

IV. Conclusion

Juvia is often labeled a stalker while we look past Gajeel crucifying Levy or Jellal trying to murder Erza. All of these things occurred at the beginning, but have ceased to be current habits. That’s character development. It’s one thing to not like a ship because of the dynamic. But it’s a double standard to hail the development of one ship and ignore another. People simply cannot move passed Juvia’s first impression, and that is sad.

Every pairing has its shtick, such as Natsu touching Lucy inappropriately and breaking into her house, and Levy hitting Gajeel often. Humor is completely subjective, that’s true, however it’s obvious what Mashima-sensei intends to fall under the umbrella of humor, and that absolutely includes Juvia’s antics and Gray’s reactions to them. Saying they aren’t meant to be funny is just being purposely oblivious and contrary. You don’t have to think it’s funny to know it’s meant as a joke. Gruvia gets condemned by the fandom the most when it comes to their particular aspect of humor, and that is unfair. 

This is a fictional world, they are fictional characters, and they do not have to meet real life standards. Many of the characters within Fairy Tail have quirks or perform actions that are not acceptable in reality. Fairy Tail itself is a fantasy manga. The world and the characters are exaggerated for the purpose of drama and comedy. This fantasy world is also based on Japanese humor and storytelling conventions, and ignoring this fact can lead to misunderstanding characters. 

Juvia has not watched Gray from a distance without his knowledge since before she joined Fairy Tail. That was at least 8-9 years ago in both our timeline and the manga time line (counting the 7 year time skip). No one in the Fairy Tail universe, nor Mashima-sensei, seem to think Juvia’s actions from her introduction need to be addressed or redeemed, because it is a non-issue that only certain parts of the fandom can’t let go of. She will not vocally apologize for a problem that doesn’t exist. 

Gray, especially, has gone so far passed his initial relationship and dynamic with Juvia. It’s sad that so many fans are concerned on Gray’s behalf, but never truly take Gray’s actual feelings or words into consideration. He cares for Juvia, he almost definitely loves Juvia romantically, and he is grateful she is by his side. He’s willing to go above and beyond, including sacrificing his life for her (twice) just to ensure her safety. Those are not the feelings of someone who is a victim of stalking. 

for @portentous-offerings who is my sick buddy today. Feel better my friend ^_^ 

“She’s never going to love me.”

It was so quiet she almost missed it.

“What did you say Kitty?” she asked, her face still pressed into his back from where they were cuddling in her bed.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said, rolling over and giving her a cheeky smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Are… are you talking about Ladybug?” she asked softly, feeling the knot of guilt that had steadily been building over the last few months of this strange friendship they had fallen into.

He didn’t bring up her alter ego very often. The subject of romance in general always seeming to carry some sort of bizarre taboo whenever he stopped by for his increasingly frequent visits. Not that Marinette had minded. She had Alya to cry to about her lack-luster love life after all, and given how unwaveringly supportive he was about all of her other problems, it seemed silly to hold it against him that he was uncomfortable talking to a girl about crushes and the like.

His eyes flashed guiltily and he rolled back over, staring out into the darkness of the room.

“Really it’s nothing,” he said again, but he couldn’t quite mask the defeated tone that colored his words.

It was a sound she was all too used to. The same defeated cadence that had echoed from her own lips after her disastrous attempt at confessing to Adrien 5 months and 27 days earlier that no amount of Rom-coms or Alya suggested poster-burning had been able to cure.

“Chat, it isn’t nothing,” she said, sitting up and gently trying to pull him back around. He didn’t budge, still keeping his gaze obstinately fixed at something that she couldn’t see. “If it matters to you… it isn’t nothing. Not to me.”

“It’s not appropriate,” he said softly, “and it’s not fair to you.”

“Shouldn’t I get to be the judge of that?”

“It would be selfish-“

“So be selfish!” she said with a slightly forced laugh. “Trust me, you have a long way to go before you catch up to my level of selfish so I am hardly one to judge.” She teased her fingers through his hair, letting her nails scratch delicately against his scalp and felt him relax in spite of himself.

“Yeah right,” he scoffed lightly, “your strange phone kleptomania aside, you’re a pretty stand-up person.”

“Hey, I will have you know I have been working very hard to reform my phone-napping ways,” she teased, hoping to draw out a real smile from him.

“You stole Alya’s phone just last week!”

“That was a special circumstance. I told you so,” she pouted. “Besides, Adrien doesn’t deserve to be taunted like that no matter what Alya might say about it,” she added softly.  

She felt Chat stiffen slightly, his cat ear twitching at her words, and she was once again suspicious that he knew all about her romantic trouble regardless of their lack of conversation on the subject. She flushed at the thought.

“You are one of the most selfless people I know,” he said, reaching up to grasp her hand in his own and give it a brief reassuring squeeze.

The guilt Marinette was feeling was almost overpowering as the thought of the secrets she was keeping from him weighed on her like a stone. He had never questioned how they had fallen into such an easy friendship, and she had become too attached to having him as a part of her life- her normal everyday life- to be willing to admit the one-sidedness of it all. Here she was getting mopey over someone she had sworn she was done chasing after in front of a guy whose heart she routinely seemed to trample into the dust. Talk about selfish.  

“Please just tell me,” she whispered, her fingers resuming their seductive strokes that she knew full well would reduce him to a compliant puddle in her lap.

He was silent for a few more moments before finally letting out a small defeated sigh.

“I was just thinking about everything and I guess I just…” he hesitated. “She’ll never love me. I know that. I think on some level I always suspected as much.”

His voice wasn’t bitter or angry, and that calm resignation shattered her own heart into a million pieces more than the actual words he was saying.

“I think,” he continued, “I think I will be ok with it. She loves someone else. She doesn’t really say much about it, maybe to preserve our identities or maybe because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, but every once in a while she lets something slip and it’s not that hard to put the pieces together. I always thought it was so cheesy in the movies when people would say things like I just want her to be happy, but I think I get it now. She’s incredible and I am always going to love her, but she doesn’t need me to make her happy.”

Marinette could feel the tears pooling behind her eyes as the words poured out of him in his soft, even tone. Her fingers were frozen, buried in his lush golden hair, her breaths turning shallow and frantic as the words reverberated through her like an electric current.

She stared down at the boy beside her. Her precious, irreplaceable kitten, who loved her so fiercely and believed in her so much. Who was willing to call her out for her faults and yet somehow still believed her capable of rising above them.

“She’s smart,” Chat continued, his voice seeming to echo in the near silence of the night, “and I know that whoever she does choose is going to be someone who can make her happy. Somebody good and funny and able to keep up with her when she is at her best and keep her grounded when she’s at her worst. So I think I can be ok with that.”

She tried to imagine what her future would be with some potential lover. Her heart lurched slightly at the thought of Adrien, her own love that was apparently not to be. She brushed that thought aside and instead tried to picture a world where she was curled up beside some new face, running her fingers through hair that wasn’t blonde.

She had to choke back a sob.

The slight twinge of pain she had felt at the momentary reminder that she and Adrien would never be more than friends was nothing to the soul rendering terror she felt at the sudden realization that finding a new love would inevitably mean losing Chat.

They would still be friends. Of course, it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be like this. He would never impose like that. Not her Chat. Her partner who was good, and funny, and who had seen her at her best and her worst, who knew her better than anyone, and who still had never made her feel anything less than precious. Her dearest friend who just the momentary thought of a life without him made her feel like she was dying.

Chat let out a small self-deprecating laugh and Marinette wondered how she had ever been so blind.

“So yeah,” he said finally twisting back around to look up at her, “I think I’ll be ok. Even if she doesn’t love me.”

She gazed down at him, his brilliant green eyes glowing in the near darkness of the night, a tired smile on his face that she longed to see transformed into his usual infectious grin, as the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning.

“I do,” she said breathlessly, before leaning down to capture his lips in a long overdue kiss.

When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

Summary: After their accidental kiss on Valentine’s day, both Marinette and Chat Noir have to deal with the emotional fallout of their actions.

Read on AO3
Read on tumblr

~

Valentine’s Day Part 2

“So, let me get this straight,” Alya said, leaning back against Marinette’s desk chair and steepling her fingers. Beside her, on a little table-cushion Marinette had made, Tikki slept soundly, having already heard the story a thousand times over. “You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“You already knew that,” Marinette groaned from her chaise, hugging a cushion to her chest and leaning back like a Freudian patient. Lord knows she was about three sentences away from a therapy-inducing hissy fit regardless, so it was probably prudent of her to be lying down in such a way. She was preparing for her inevitable breakdown that’s all. It was the smart thing to do.

And she rarely did the smart thing nowadays it seemed, so she really needed this.

“You’ve been in love with Chat as Ladybug for like a bajillion years,” Alya continued, ignoring Marinette as she continued to rehash pointless details. Details which made Marinette want to bludgeon herself to death with her cushion.

It was most likely impossible to do such a thing but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Death by cushion- she’d find a way.

“Yes. We’ve already established that,” she replied through gritted teeth, said cushion slowly creeping up to cover her face.

“But last night you kissed him by accident,” Alya said.

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

“That is correct sir,” Marinette wiggled a finger.

“And he gave you a rose and kissed you back.”

“Tru’ dat.”

It was indicative of Marinette’s deteriorating mental state that she’d said “Tru’ dat”. She’d never said “Tru’ dat” in her whole life.

“I see,” Alya nodded a few times. The fact her tone had remained neutral the whole time was doing nothing to help Marinette’s poor nerves, and so she swung her legs over the side of her chaise, sitting up to get a better view of Alya’s twinkling eyes. A sense of dread settled in Marinette’s stomach. Alya’s eye-twinkles were never a good thing, at least when they were directed towards her.

I see?! Is that all you have to say? Seriously?! I thought you’d be freaking out right now, I mean I’m freaking out but then I ALWAYS freak out. You not freaking out is making me freak out harder! Can you please freak out with me? Join me in the freak out zone already!” Marinette blabbed, waving her arms and promptly dropping the cushion to the ground.

Alya said nothing, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at her and cross her legs. At least she’d stopped steepling her fingers, Marinette thought gruffly.

After a short pause, Alya finally spoke, but her voice wobbled and strained unnaturally, her lips thinned in a way that was entirely too suspicious. “Firstly, stop saying freak out, secondly I’m not freaking out because this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She barely made it to the end of her sentence before she doubled over and descended into giggles.

It was in that moment that Marinette realised Alya’s peculiar behaviour had been due to her hiding her amusement, and she felt fully justified in yanking the cushion from its position on the floor and hurling it towards her supposed ‘best friend forever.’

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

“Come on, this is serious! I’m in hot water here!” Marinette cried, crossing her arms across her chest.

“When are you not though? Let’s be real,” the redhead shot back with a wry grin, twirling in the chair and kicking backwards to check her hair in the small vanity mirror on Marinette’s desk. The sight made Marinette relax a little. Alya only checked her hair with such scrutiny when she was seriously contemplating something.

Suddenly missing the comforting embrace of the cushion, Marinette flopped down once more. As her back hit the large pillows adorning her chaise, she let out a long sigh and all the fear, the panic, the fight, left her in one fell swoop. Only tiredness and uncertainty remained.

“How am I going to face him?” she whispered. Her head tilted towards her small, round window, to the afternoon sun beaming down in a total antithesis to her feelings. She wondered where Chat Noir was at that moment.

Did she cross his mind?

Over the years Marinette had asked herself that question more times than she could count. But it was different now. Now she wondered if Chat thought of her, of Marinette, not of Ladybug. Did he dwell on it- how they’d kissed? She had. She’d thought about it all night, until exhaustion had finally overcome her and she’d woken up late, cold, wanting something she could barely comprehend.

For years, she’d thought about what it would mean to kiss Chat Noir, Dark Cupid incident aside considering she couldn’t even remember it.

A small, involuntary whimper left her when she recalled the night before. The kiss had been an accident… at first. But the second she felt Chat’s lips press into hers was burned into her memory, playing over and over again. The moment he returned her kiss had ignited something dormant inside her and she felt raw, emotions exposed and unlocked, with nowhere to hide.

She considered her question again. How on earth could she face him as Ladybug, knowing what she did, knowing him the way he didn’t know he knew her (and god wasn’t that sentence confusing in and of itself)?

For God’s sake Marinette, it was a peck of a kiss at the most, pull yourself together!

“You’ll figure it out.”

Alya’s voice sounded lightyears away, so stuck was Marinette in her own musings. She jumped, a little sheepishly, and realised she hadn’t noticed Alya coming over to her until the spinning desk chair was pressed right by the chaise. The next moment, Alya’s hands were in her hair. Having thoroughly fixed her own short curls, she now concentrated on the silky strands of Marinette’s loose locks, braiding little plaits as if they were children at a sleepover.

Marinette let her. Two perfectly groomed heads were better than one.

“You think you can talk to him about it? As you I mean, not Ladybug,” Alya suggested, quickly clarifying her meaning whilst tugging the red ribbons loose from Marinette’s dark hair.

Snorting in response, Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Talk? To Chat? The very idea…

“Yeah sure, let me just tweet at him Ayla. Hashtag balcony make-outs,” she giggled, feeling a little better as her hair fell around her shoulders.

Foregoing the braids, Alya reached up and began tying something new into Marinette’s hair, tutting in disapproval. “Slide into the DM’s at least girl, I raised you better than that.”

They shared a laugh, settling into a comfortable silence as Alya worked on both sides of her hair. Marinette sat back and mulled over her options. Truth be told she didn’t have many. She couldn’t talk to Chat, after all it wasn’t likely he’d be back and she had no idea who he was in real life. The notion that she could talk to him as Ladybug, thus revealing herself, made her rapidly descend into a panic so sharp that she quickly pushed that thought to the side.

Really there was nothing else to do but call it what it was. A blip. A crazy alignment of stars which had given her a taste of everything she’d wanted for the past four years, a reminder that it was probably all she was going to get.

She tried not to let the disappointment settle in her bones, yet it was fruitless. Her chest ached as though a hole had been carved there.

Suffice to say it was a familiar ache where Chat was concerned, but it was bigger now.

“There. Done,” Alya pulled back, pleased with her work, and Marinette stood. Stepping over to the vanity mirror, she leaned down to check her reflection. “Matching colours for you and the bae,” she teased, eyebrows wiggling from underneath her rounded glasses.

Marinette threw the cushion at her again, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as it smacked her right in the face.

At the very least, she had the Gaming Club that night, that would provide a very welcome distraction.

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Which was ironic, considering he’d joined the Gaming Club to avoid that exact thing from happening.

“I can’t do this, I’m going to cancel,” he whimpered, hiding out in the bathroom a floor above their usual meeting place like the coward he was.

“So cancel,” Plagg shrugged, busy amusing himself with unfurling a roll of toilet paper- as per his usual hobby.

“I can’t cancel!” Adrien replied, horror struck as he gazed at himself in the mirror. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Are you insane?!”

“So don’t cancel,” Plagg’s disinterested monotone was really starting to grate on him. “Honestly kiddo what do you want me to say and will it get me food faster?”

The resounding groan from Adrien’s throat was so despairing in nature that he was afraid he’s start rumours of a ghost haunting the building. He leaned on his elbows, burying his face into his hands.

Stupid. He’d been so, so, stupid. And reckless! Totally reckless. What had he been thinking?!

It was worth it though, a small, unchecked part of him thought. Adrien squashed it flat in an instant. After all there was no time to consider the fluttering in his chest, the pleasant swoop of his stomach. Now was the time to face the consequences of his actions. His incredibly foolish, totally moronic actions.

Because, although a part of him ignited, burned in the best possible way, at the memory of Marinette’s lips against his own, another part felt thoroughly ashamed. It felt like he was tricking her in some way. Granted that had never been his intention. His plan had been simple. Leave the rose on her balcony for her to discover. She’d never know it was him and be happy at the gift from a secret admirer. Obviously, things hadn’t worked out the way he planned, though he should have anticipated that.

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

He needed to apologise to her, as Chat, and he was going to do so that night in fact. But before that Adrien needed to pretend, he needed to lie, to Marinette. To the girl he loved. He needed to act like he hadn’t heard her soft sigh, felt the warmth of her skin and the taste of her cherry-blossom lips. He had to fake it, act like it had never happened.

He had to pretend he didn’t desperately want it to happen again.

The idea of being so fake made him ill, and so he placed his hands under the cold water tap to splash his face, allowing the iciness of the water to penetrate his senses and offer him some much-needed clarity.

It didn’t really work but it was the best he could do.

When he entered the Gaming Club, Plagg tucked securely inside his jacket pocket, he was relieved to see Marinette talking to other people. He could barely look at her, the meagre glimpse he’d gotten from across the room had sent his heart cartwheeling down the corridor and somewhere into the next arrondissement.

Not wanting to look suspicious, and fully admitting that he was stalling for time, Adrien wandered over to the desk where Nino was hooking up an old Nintendo console for one of their signature Mario Kart nights.

Mario Kart…Marinette…partners… sitting close together… oh no.

“Hey bro!” Nino chirped, offering Adrien a fist to bump, clearly not noticing how the blood had completely drained from his friend’s face. “Everything ok?”

“H-hey! Everything’s good!” The first lie of the evening. How could Adrien have forgotten it was a Mario Kart night? More importantly, how was he going to survive the evening now? Sitting next to Marinette, shoulders pressed together, watching her tongue poke out in concentration like it normally did? How could he concentrate on anything knowing how close he’d been to said tongue the night before?

Grow up Adrien! You aren’t some horny teenager and Marinette isn’t a prize to be objectified. Show her some respect already!

If Nino had thought Adrien’s reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. Together they settled into an easy conversation, Adrien helping his friend set up the old console. Focusing on such a menial task did wonders for his nerves. He was almost starting to feel normal. Almost.

Of course, just as he was beginning to relax, Marinette had to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

She might as well have given him a 1.21 gigawatt electric shock, given his reaction to both was about the same. If he’d been Chat Noir at the time, his superpowers might have actually propelled him through the ceiling.

“A-Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head, taken aback by his startled shriek. “Are you ok?”

Subconsciously, Adrien’s hand reached up and he clutched his chest, fingers burying into his jumper as if it would cure the frantic beating of his wild heart.

Because she was there, right in front of him. Marinette. The girl he’d kissed last night.

His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could help himself.

“Adrien?”

The second time her voice permeated through his cloudy mind, something snapped inside of him. It was as if he were a character in a film, once played in slow motion, now fast-forwarding.

“Hey!” he cried, louder than he intended, and the people around him turned to stare. He looked at her eyes instead, with far more intensity than normal, mainly because he was so intent on not looking at her lips any more. “Marinette! It’s my friend- Marinette! My good friend, I’m good! How are you? You good- good? Yeah, I’m good, friend. How are you? Did you have a good Valentine’s day?”

WHAT?! Adrien’s brain-filter kicked in far too late, but began screaming at him nonetheless. Why would you ask her that? WHY?! You know how it went! YOU WERE THERE!

Marinette blinked, and it proved just how far gone he was that he found her blinking adorable.

Her blinking.

“Umm,” she blushed, unsure of what to say and, honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. He sounded insane even to his own ears, and he’d just asked her something quite private. Actually, he was surprised she wasn’t berating him for it. Then again, she thought he didn’t know about her encounter with Chat Noir.  His words may have seemed innocent to her ears.

What a mess Adrien had gotten himself into, and it only seemed to grow worse with every bit of word-vomit he expelled.

(Was it bad that he felt a tiny bit of pride at her blushing? Probably. But he was going to hell anyway so he might as well enjoy the slow descent at least a little bit.)

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Marinette glanced baffled at Nino, whom Adrien could see shrugging from his peripheral vision.

But he couldn’t care less.

Because he’d just noticed her hair. Or, more specifically, how she was wearing it.

In place of the red ribbons usually tied into her loose black locks, were two green ones instead. Vivid green. Chat Noir green.

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

Marinette was teasing him. She was grinning and she had green ribbons in her hair and Adrien was going to DIE.

“Good! That’s good!”

Great. He’d always wanted to die sounding like a partially strangled mongoose.

Marinette, mercifully, took pity on him and waved a controller in his face, offering him a place in the first race of the evening. He sighed, relaxing a little, but only a little. Gaming was fine. It was a welcome distraction, as long as he didn’t sit too close to her he’d be fine (who was he kidding? Of course he was going to sit close to her). At least, when he was focused on blue shells and Bullet Bills his brain couldn’t fixate on the meaning behind Marinette’s ribbons, if there was any hidden symbolism he was missing.

Suddenly the thought of seeing her that night, of apologising, seemed that much more dangerous- forbidden almost. But he had to do it. He owed it to her as her friend. Even if that’s all he could ever hope to be.

Nino still hadn’t finished setting up, and a few other members began helping him in their eagerness to get started. As a result, Adrien found himself more alone with Marinette than ever.

They sat down on the floor, controllers in hands, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, like they always did.

Adrien swallowed, wishing he’d worn a t-shirt instead of the woollen monstrosity currently overheating him.

He was fairly sure he was going to lose the game spectacularly.

His fears were proved right when, later that evening, Marinette’s knee brushed against his own and he ended up sending Donkey Kong careening off the end of Rainbow Road.

It was going to be a long night.

***

For the fifteenth time that evening, Marinette called herself an idiot.

Because she was an idiot. An idiot for standing on her balcony, an idiot for hoping lightning would strike twice in the same spot, an idiot for following her heart…

Tightly wrapping her cardigan around her, she gazed out into the mocking skyline. The bitterness of the cold February air was nothing compared to the bitterness she felt building up like sludge in her chest. Bitterness in her fortunes, bitterness in her decisions, bitterness in her own feelings.

Distantly, Marinette thanked the stars that at least it wasn’t as cold as it usually was. She was thankful she had a tiny shred of dignity left at least- that she wasn’t freezing to death in the vain hope that Chat Noir would show up again.

She reached up, fingers brushing against her lips, and remembered.

Furious with herself, Marinette shook her head, as if the rough gesture would expel all the unwanted memories from her mind. Honestly what was she doing acting like a silly sixteen-year-old with a crush? Again?! It was desperate, obsessive, ridiculous-

And totally in character if she was being honest with herself.

She needed a break. A breather. A respite from her own whirlwind emotions regarding the man in the black mask, the man who’d held her heart for longer than she cared to admit to anyone- not even Alya.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Marinette let out one last frustrated sigh before turning on her heels and making her way back to her room. Maybe her room would be less of a reminder, would save her from her torment.

But, as usual, fate had other plans for her.

Because, of course, Chat Noir happened to be standing there as if he’d suddenly popped into existence.

The shock of seeing him sent Marinette stumbling backwards with a cry, tripping over a flowerpot and tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” Chat called, rushing forward to catch her just in time. One hand gripped her flailing wrist, the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her towards him.

For a moment, both of them froze in place. Chat’s fingers splayed across her back, and she briefly felt the edges of his clawed-gloves scratching gently against the fabric of her cardigan. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before she could control it.

Chat’s eyes widened and he stepped out of their half-embrace with awkward, jittery movements, casting his face away from hers. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I shouldn’t have startled you. I guess I have a bad habit.”

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

The silence which settled on them both was heavy, uncomfortable, and borderline unbearable. It was laden with memories of the night before, swirling around them, echoing in their minds as though they were standing in an empty theatre, watching their mistakes projected on a screen with no means of escape.

Because it was a mistake… wasn’t it? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, he probably regretted kissing her back. That was why he was here- of that she was sure. To think he was here for any other reason was just asking for a broken heart.

But, oh god, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not to her. She couldn’t ever consider it to be such.

Finally, Marinette could take the silence no longer. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile onto her face, painted a picture of a girl who had herself together at least a little, and placed a hand on her hip.

“No rose tonight?”

Chat’s cat-ears twitched. He peered over at her with a puzzled frown before he realised she was teasing. Something dark crossed his eyes and Marinette forgot how to breathe. The look was gone before she could concentrate on it fully, and she found that he was smiling back at her.

“Err, n-no. No. That is- I mean- unfortunately not,” he replied with his signature bow. “But I do have something far more important.”

“Oh really?” Marinette squeaked, inwardly cringing at how lame she sounded. She’d wanted her voice to be sensual and teasing, but instead it sounded like she’d inhaled a ton of helium instead. Clearing her throat, she tried again, arching her eyebrow for good measure and all the while thrilled at the fact that he was simply there. Chat Noir was there. He’d come back to her. “What’s that?”

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

“About last night,” Chat continued, shuffling from foot to foot, completely unaware of how Marinette’s body, mind, and heart had seized up all at once. “I feel like I made a terrible impression. I- well- I’m not the type of guy to do… what I did.”

From the depths of despair and panic, Marinette felt the faintest hints of confusion. She latched onto it. Confusion was better than rejection.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well I’m not really a playboy or anything, despite what the media likes to speculate about me. I don’t kiss strangers on balconies. I guess, I didn’t want you to have the wrong impression about me.”

When Marinette hung her head, Chat felt a wave of regret wash over him. He’d practiced what he wanted to say, over and over again but it never seemed enough to fully explain himself- not without revealing to her that he was Adrien Agreste and he’d been lying to her this entire time. He was too afraid of the ramifications of that- so he needed to end this now- before he hurt her.

Damn it, he’d gotten so close though. So close to knowing what they could have- what they could be.

But it was a fantasy. Chat Noir was a large part of him, but it wasn’t all of him. The person he was behind the mask was locked away from Marinette, was a separate entity in her eyes.

Who was he fooling? They couldn’t be together. Not like this.

He had to try harder as Adrien and if she rejected him he would simply pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He would respect her, be her friend, move on, and certainly not use Chat Noir’s hero status as a means to trick her into loving him. She deserved better, deserved the world, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her.

That’s why he had to leave. Right now. Being here, being this close to her, was crumbling his resolve. Every cute gesture she made was another step closer to his damnation. He had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret, before his principles were lost to the wind.

“It was Valentine’s day. I guess… it’s easy to get swept up in the romance of the day, right?” Marinette said. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes was dulled somehow. Once again Chat’s attention was drawn to the green ribbons in her hair, as she quickly tucked a few strands behind her ears. He couldn’t bring herself to speak as she grew distant, deep in her own thoughts, and her shoulders raised. “But if we’re being honest Chat, I was worried you’d see me in a bad light too. Like- I mean- I’m not the kind of girl who kisses random celebrities and I’m certainly not the type to blab to the press about it either.”

“I didn’t ever think you were,” he uttered, swallowing thickly, and a little bit of sparkle returned to Marinette’s eyes. Her cheeks turned pink again.

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

“Well… that’s a relief. I mean I always admired you,” Marinette stammered out the confession before she meant to, quickly covering her blunder with half-truths. “You know you saved me once- from an akuma. You didn’t notice me at the time, and it was years ago, but I never forgot.”

Chat felt as though he’d been physically struck by her words.

He’d saved her? He’d saved Marinette? And he hadn’t noticed her?!

“I wish I’d seen you,” he said before he could help himself. The rest of his desires remained unsaid, as new possibilities, new what ifs, formed in his mind- like an alternate reality.

Chat inwardly cringed. No way in hell was he going to get any sleep that night.

“I wish you’d seen me too,” Marinette admitted.

Chat’s hand was halfway to hers before he yanked it back, his heart beating wildly, his mind screaming at him to leave. The pull was almost tangible, magnetic, drawing him closer to her. It was dangerous, and he needed to leave.

“I hate to be a sundae, but I have to split!” he laughed, high and fake, all the while cringing at what was perhaps the worst pun he’d ever made. And that was saying something.

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

Ok, she thought, maybe she was ridiculous, but he was equally so. Maybe that’s why she loved him so much.

She watched him make his way to the edge of the balcony and something stirred inside her, the raw feelings which had sparked when their lips had met woke from their slumber, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Chat?” her voice matched the soft tremors echoing through her body, and she tried to remember to breathe. She couldn’t let him leave like this, she’d been so close. “How about…one last kiss?”

Chat stilled, statue-like. His lips parted, and Marinette panicked.

“I mean!” she corrected, face turning to flames, “I mean sorry that was dumb- so dumb. It’s just that I- I liked that kiss and I thought- I don’t know what I thought- but I wanted to-”

His lips crashed into hers, and the rest of Marinette’s sentence was lost forever.

Chat kissed her, kissed her with a resolve thoroughly destroyed and a heart so indescribably owned; owned by her, possessed by her, consumed by her. His hands were frantic, and Marinette matched him in every way as they pressed into each other. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer.

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

The pair of them moved apart to breathe, great shuddering breaths, and then their lips were together again- as neither of them could stand to be apart for a moment. Chat’s fingers slid from her hands to grip her hips, a primal, dark part of him triumphant as he heard a moan slip from Marinette’s mouth.

They stumbled backwards, towards the wall, and Chat pressed her against it, hands roaming her sides- never going too far- always listening to her reactions. Desire coursed through him, a need to please her, to make her moan again, without pushing too far.

She must have sensed him falter, sensed his caution, as a frustrated hum rose from the back of her throat, almost like a purr of her own. Her hands moved from his hair, gripping the bell around his throat, and she tugged him down towards her, kissing his neck.

Chat was having a hard time not passing out from that alone, but then she rolled her hips, making it so there wasn’t a sliver of streetlight between them, and he was fairly certain he died and was reborn on the spot.

Dangerous was the word whispering in his mind, the word he was ignoring as his hands cupped the sides of Marinette’s face, tilting her head back. She arched into him again, countering his movements like a dance, and he gasped.

It felt too natural, too perfect… almost…familiar.

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

Dangerous- he thought as her mouth opened and he was rewarded with another moan.

Stop. Stop before you can’t, he pleaded with himself as Marinette’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails scratching against his neck.

He didn’t stop.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, passion moving from an explosive force to one of slow-burning sensuality, settling into a rhythm that was far too natural, but neither of them could bring themselves to mind.

It was a long time before Chat could bring himself to leave her, to stop kissing her. It was addictive, intoxicating, and filled with promise. For months his heart had been starved, yearning and wishing, and now it was real. Their kisses were real, her affections were real.

And so was her voice, ringing out in the coldness of the night, in answer to his question, “May I see you tomorrow night, Princess?”

There was a pause, both of them treading on thin ice, ice which slowly creaked and groaned beneath their feet.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the ice shattered, plunging them both into unknown depths.

(art to follow)

Butterfly


He’s reading as she flits around the room getting ready for bed, he hasn’t read in a long time and is determined to get most of it read tonight, back propped up a bit as his long legs are spread across the mattress. He pays her no mind as she buzzes around the room, gaze not leaving the page as she crawls into bed next to him. He’s completely immersed in the words till she begins unbuttoning his shirt just a bit more.


She had gotten bored cuddled next to him moving instead to lay between his legs her elbows resting carefully on his hips while slender fingers trace over the two little birds. She’s not doing it for attention it’s just something she likes to do, trace them, his tattoos running her finger along the lines trying to feel a difference that isn’t there. He sneaks a glance looking to her face under the book, she’s not smiling or frowning her cheek smushed a bit as she rests her head in her free hand, she looks content it makes Harry feel funny he likes this just being in each other’s company not needing anything more than the comforts of each other’s presence … little does he know …


He returns to the words hand faltering as he turns the page, her nimble fingers cold against his stomach as she unbuttons the rest pushing it away with featherlight touches, she’s going for the butterfly, it’s her favorite one, she’s told him plenty of times before, that and the ferns she especially likes to trace with both hands mirroring the movements of one with the other across the identical ink.


She starts with the antenna to the right tracing the outing ending with the left antenna before running her fingers along the details of the middle. She too caught up with her tracing she doesn’t notice him setting down the book after dog earring the page, keeping his hands at his sides, it’s not hard just letting her do her thing biting at his plush bottom lip watching her touch him like he was some kinda work of art. She traced a finger down dragging it in a lazy circle around his belly bottom before weaving it through the course hairs crowing his boxers. His breathing has picked up a bit, something about the moment making his head swirl and blood begin to relocate.


She doesn’t know what she’s doing to him, starting at the rightmost part of the tattoo and tracing to the left, she feels it then as she shifts to have better access to the other branch, his growing cock, it’s been getting heavy and full with her touching, his lip is abused as he bites it to hold back the sounds. At the first feel she looks up at him shyly, “What’re yeh doin’ hmm?”


She looks back to where her finger is just starting the final tattoo, “I’m just touching you" she responds as her finger begins to move again. He doesn’t respond right away, letting her almost finish,


“Feels good”

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Daddy Drabbles #8

- Bucky gets first aid after a mission - Based off this

Bucky sighs a heavy sigh of relief when he sees his house approaching from the car window. He turns to Steve who is writing notes in his notebook as a post-mission ritual. He had ridden home with Bucky as a promise to you, to bring your husband back in one piece. The car stops in front of the house and they both thank the driver. With heavy tired steps they open the creaking gate to your house, the early morning sun beating down on their exhausted bodies as they walk to the door. Before they can reach the door you’re barrelling down the path straight into Bucky’s arms without a word. He catches you in his strong arms a soft groan involuntarily escaping his lips. “My ribs” he wheezes out. You instantly pull away as if you’d been burnt.

“Sorry, sorry” you pull away, in the eagerness to see your husband you had forgotten the potential for injuries. Bucky smiles through the pain as you survey him. “How bad?” it was almost ritualistic for you to ask after every mission.

“Three cracked ribs, stitches on my neck and thigh and a slight concussion, not to mention cuts and bruises just about everywhere” Bucky lists off his injuries and the worry clouds your face. “I’ll be right as rain tomorrow” Bucky says as he pulls you back to him with a cocky smile wanting to hold you in his arms. You often forgot your husband and his best friend had advanced healing and your worry was frivolous in most cases.

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Here are my Belle/Adam NSFW headcanons that literally no one asked for

Because we all know the only road I walk is the one of Sin™

• Belle may have laughed when Adam growled during their dance, but inside a shot of arousal surged through her body that left a heavy and needy ache between her legs. The ache only worsened when Adam brushed his lips against the shell of her ear after their dance ended, his warm sweet breath ghosting across her neck as he whispered, “now, would you prefer scruff or something longer?”

• Turns out Belle prefers scruff, and the way it scratches against the soft skin of her inner thighs while Adam goes down on her. She also relishes the way it burns when her thighs rub together as she walks, a gentle smile quirking her lips up in a quiet, indecent secrecy. And Adam knows that smile, adores that smile, returning it with a wink and– if Belle is close enough– a low, suggestive rumble in his throat that awakens a beautiful shade of pink on her cheeks.

• Until their wedding night, their sexual endeavors never exceeded third base. So when the time comes and Adam can finally HAVE Belle, he makes the sweetest, most passionate love to her; all languid thrusts, soft whispers, deep breathing, quivering lips, and trembling limbs.

• The second time Adam takes Belle that night results in torn pillows, dark purple bruises, and indentations in the wall from its repetitive collision with the headboard.

• And speaking of the headboard, there were definitely deep scratch marks engrained in the wood from their ardent lovemaking. When Belle notices them the morning after, she never lets Adam live it down, and later that week she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing when Adam sheepishly informs the staff that the headboard needs to be replaced.

• Teasing aside, Belle loves Adam’s animalistic nature in bed more than she’d like to admit. She revels in the feel of his teeth teasing and nibbling when he trails his mouth along her collarbone, marking her– claiming her– with deep red love bites. She adores the way he buries his face in her neck when he fucks her, the way his hot breath dampens the skin of her throat with his labored breathing. She takes delight in his wild eyes, with blown pupils and filled with something so unabashed, raking over her body and glimmering with indecency. But nothing gets to her more than those low, guttural sounds Adam makes when he’s aroused, almost always involuntary and instinctive, like when Belle bites his lip or when her tongue laps over the smooth head of his cock. Her absolute favorite is when he growls deep in his throat while he’s eating her out, the sound rippling up from her center and hardening her nipples, arching her back, and making her head thrash against the pillow.

• Adam likes to play a game where he mouths at Belle’s neck, dances his fingers softly over her wrists, and murmurs suggestive words in her ear to see how long it takes for him to get her turned on enough to abandon whatever book she’s reading and give in to his sexual efforts. One time he got so far as to literally being inside of her until her book finally fell to the floor and she let Adam take her on the library table.

• They literally have sex all over the castle, and as much as the staff wants to complain, they can’t bring themselves to since they know Adam was basically celibate for over a decade. A lot of pent up desire, y'know? So nothing can really stop him when he bends Belle over the dinner table after watching her lick sauce off her finger, his owns fingers cushioned between her soft lips as he takes her so hard that dishes clatter to the floor.

• Also, he literally died for a brief moment in time. So who can blame the man for completely ravishing his wife at every moment he can when he thought he lost her forever?

• A concept: THRONE SEX!!!!!!!!!!!

• Belle straddling Adam in his royal chair and riding him into oblivion, their sounds of pleasure echoing off the walls of the large room. Bonus points if Adam is wearing some sort of coronet.

Not so hypothetically, but actually, a date

aka, what could have happened if Chase’s minions had been so kind as to hold off on their kidnapping spree an extra 24 hours

for my friends on twitter who told me I should write this and know I can’t say no to them :) 

psa: this is unbeta-ed and it’s past my bedtime, so read at your own risk of grammatical errors lol


Felicity opened her refrigerator in search of the leftover takeout she could’ve sworn was still in there somewhere. To her dismay, all she was greeted with was mostly empty shelves. She was not a big grocery shopping person to begin with, and with everything they had been dealing with over the past couple of weeks, she couldn’t remember the last time she pushed a cart through those fluorescent lit aisles.

“How did Oliver manage to be the Green Arrow and keep our refrigerator stocked,” she muttered to herself as she checked a container of yogurt to discover it had expired months ago.

Her eyes caught the box from Oliver’s party the night before and she slid it out, remembering that there had been a few leftover slices of cake. They were on summer break after all, so cake was an acceptable dinner… right?

She was debating eating it straight from the box versus preserving some of her dignity and getting a plate when she remembered that she didn’t have to spend her evening sitting at her counter eating cake alone.

Setting the box down and reaching for her phone, she hit her first number on speed dial and waited while it rang. Which wasn’t a long wait since he picked up before the first ring had finished.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes… Am I only allowed to call when I’m in danger?” she teased.

There was a pause. “Well, no I just—“

“Do you want to come over tonight?” She needed to get the words out before he gave her enough time to talk herself out of it. She could practically see his eyebrow rise in that way it did when she said something that could have multiple interpretations and she hastily added, “There’s just leftover birthday cake and I was about to eat it but I realized that you should probably get dibs on it since it was for your birthday.” And also, I just really want to see you. “I promise this isn’t a ruse. But if you’re busy I understand and—”

“No,” he interrupted her. “No I’m not busy. I’m just finishing up at City Hall and then I can be right over.”

The corners of her mouth flicked up in a small smile at the eagerness he was trying so hard and yet failing to hide in his voice.

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Originally posted by fhlyless

Anonymous said: Maybe within the series (if you’re going to do a series) you could include cheeky!Jeff and jealous!Jeff coz that would be amazinggg if you could
         Author’s Note: So I really didn’t want to do a series, but I kind of want to write jealous!Jeff, so I’m only going to add this last part before moving on and doing individual pieces again :)
Also, I didn’t know if what type of jealousy you wanted, but I ended up coming up with this. Enjoy!
P.S - Unless specifically requested, all 13RW Imagines will be AU. Which means Hannah and Jeff are alive and well. Why, you ask? Because I like fluff and happy endings!

Imagine your relationship with Jeff is still brand new that not everyone at school has gotten the memo. Especially those boys who are constantly flirting with you. At least until Jeff makes it clear you’re off limits.

Jeff Atkins X Reader pt. III

Parties aren’t normally your thing, but you find it hard to tell Jeff no. Especially when he bribes you with milkshakes and fries afterwards, and flashes that heartwarming smile at you when you’re moments from caving. But Clay and Hannah are going to be there, dragging along Tony who rarely makes appearances at high school parties and you find it even more easier to pump yourself up for the event.

As usual Jeff is immediately sought out at the party and being pulled away to start a rowdy game of beer pong. He tries to brush them off as he tightens his hold on your hand, but you merely kiss his dimpled chin and send him on his way.

“Go. Have fun,” you smile. Then sneaking your hand into his front jean’s pocket, your hand lingers on his thigh with a teasing little grin before you grab the car keys and slide them out, only to slip them into your own back pocket. “But not too much fun,” you chuckle when you see his eyes darken with the teeniest bit of lust. “You owe me a milkshake and fries afterward, and I’m not too keen to see you drunkenly stumble around.”

Jeff gulps. “Yes, ma'am.” Several people call out his name, telling him to hurry up, but he shouts at them to hold off one more minute. Then glancing back down at you, he fondly smiles. “Love you.”

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“Who is he?”

He sidles up next to her—seemingly out of nowhere, when she’s right in the middle of reviewing her new schedule and mapping out the most efficient route to her next class—and Sana can’t help but give a tiny jump at his sudden appearance.

But he doesn’t seem to notice that he startled her, his gaze fixed and intense on something across the schoolyard.

“Huh?” she says, failing to keep the irritation out of her voice. The first day of school is stressful enough, thanks very much, and though she’s quietly pleased to see Even back on his feet, present and flushed and healthy in front of her, she also didn’t sign up to be his fucking tour guide.

This is the year she’s going to get all 6’s, and have an active social life, and be a better daughter. This year, she’s going to have it all.

But not if she gets distracted.

“Him,” Even says, tilting his head in the direction of the bench. She follows his gaze, and sees that four boys have made the bench into a makeshift lounge, legs spread wide and casual, laughing and joking and playfully shoving each other.

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  • okay but elias woke up a little later today - he wasn’t planning on meeting the boys until much later - and he’s surprised when he runs into sana, smuggling food from the kitchen into her bedroom. she’s still in her pyjamas and she isn’t wearing any make up or anything, which, well, it’s nearly 1pm. so it’s a bit odd, especially for her.
  • elias asks her if she’s okay, and why she’s still in her pyjamas. and sana just shrugs and says, quite aggressively, “you’re still in your pyjamas.” and sometimes elias would bite back, tease her, but he also knows when to draw the line. and he can just see that sana’s not in the mood, so he just says, “any plans today?”
  • sana stares at him and shrugs, says, “nei”, then makes her way into her room, shutting the door, and elias leaves her be for a little bit. but a few hours later, elias notices she still hasn’t left her bedroom, which is kind of unlike sana. so he knocks on her door. 
  • she lets him in, but she’s kind of irritated; elias ignores it and says, “what’re you up to?” as he plonks himself on sana’s bed (which causes sana to sigh irritably, but she shuffles a little to give him space to get comfy anyway).
  • “nothing,” sana says irritably; dismissively. elias just looks at her and says, “okay” and waits to see if she elaborates. when she doesn’t, he says, “what was all that about last night?”
  • sana raises her eyebrows. “i’m allowed to have friends around, elias,” she snaps. “you do all the time.”
  • “yeah, but mine don’t drink in the house, and there’s never twenty of us,” elias replies fairly, but not unkindly. he looks at her, notices how deflated she seems, how upset she looks, and so he just says, “is everything okay?”
  • “yes,” sana says quickly. “everything’s fine.” which - okay, okay, sana isn’t in the mood for talking. that’s fine. so, elias says, “how about a movie?”
  • sana looks at him, frowning, and says, “what movie?”, and elias tells her that there’s this film on today, the one they used to watch all the time when they were little. and sana, despite herself, smiles at the memory, and laughs when elias does a (very bad) impression of one of the main characters. and elias thinks there is nothing that makes him quite as proud as when he makes his baby sister laugh.
  • they end up reheating leftovers from the other night and sit cross-legged on the sofa together, watching this film, which is funny but kind of cheesy and not actually as good as either of them remember it being, but it’s okay, because sana’s smiling a lot more now; seems more content.
  • elias’ phone rings just as the films ending and shit, time got away from him; he’d agreed to see the boys today. he picks up the phone and starts talking to them, to adam, and says, “just come over to mine, man, it’s chill, my parents are–” but then he catches sana’s expression; it’s small, subtle, the way her eyes fall to her lap and she prods at her food a little disinterestedly. maybe other people wouldn’t notice it, but elias does. so, he says, “actually, guys, sorry, film without me today, i forgot i made other plans.”
  • the boys erupt into indignant shouts about loyalty and how important their youtube channel is, but elias silences them, hangs up the phone, and sana says, “what other plans do you have?”
  • “well, they made a sequel to this film, and i think it’s stupid that neither of us have seen it”. and okay, he expects that to make sana smile, but instead she frowns and says, “but they aren’t airing the sequel at the moment.” so elias rolls his eyes, then says, “we’ll just have to find something else to watch, then.” and sana looks at him for a moment before rolling her eyes and saying, “okay. find something, then.”
  • she may not have said it, but she didn’t need to, because elias can already tell that sana’s feeling just that little bit better. and he’s so glad to see it, because he really hates seeing sana upset; can’t stand it, because despite how much he teases her, he truly does think there’s no one in the world who deserves happiness quite as much as his sister. and maybe that’s why, when they squabble over the last portion of food, elias lets sana have it. just this once.
#DateMeBuckyBarnes (Part 3)

Summary: When Hollywood’s heartthrob Bucky Barnes breaks up with his girlfriend, you jokingly tag him in a selfie on Instagram to express your desire to date him. What you don’t expect is a response from the man himself [Modern AU].

Word Count: 965

Part 1 - Part 2

A/N: Just to let you know, tags are closed for this series. Enjoy the update :)

Originally posted by sebtrashianstanimagines

Darkness.

Complete and utter darkness washed over you, and you couldn’t escape. Voices hummed around you, just a faint sound from a distance, but slowly amplified in your ears. Warmth suddenly engulfed your body as you tried to find a way to leave the void that surrounded your presence. The voices became louder, telling you to wake up, telling you to finally break free from unconsciousness.

Open your eyes.

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Liar, Liar: Part 3

*Fenrir leaves the room, the door swinging closed behind him with a resounding click*

Remus: *holds still for a moment, his breath caught in his throat* He knows… 

*reality comes crashing back as the Girl makes a small sound from where she’s bound to the chair* 

Girl: *grimaces* … That tastes horrible. 

Remus: H-How did you-?

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Prompt from @dapperinsomniac – “Lena and Kara discussing the lead weapon privately, while Lena reassures Kara everything will be okay afterwards (when Mon-El is gone)” combined with the prompt from @tamkinz13 “Need the Lena /Winn. Brotp and how they only need sounds and not words to speak sometimes.”


Kara trusts her. Supergirl trusts her.

She trusts her, but god, she doesn’t trust Lilian.

And neither does Lena.

How could she? The years of abuse notwithstanding, this woman had just abandoned the girl that she lov – Supergirl, she’d abandoned Supergirl – to die, either at Rhea’s hands or, accidentally, at her own sister’s.

So when she quirks her eyebrow – slightly, so slightly that the genocidal leader of Cadmus doesn’t see it, that ultra-powerful Superman doesn’t see it – at Supergirl, Supergirl sees it.

Of course she does. She knows Lena better than anyone.

Or, Kara Danvers does.

Same difference, anyway.

And that quirk of her eyebrow is all she or Supergirl need to communicate what comes next: because that quirk of her eyebrow is meet me on the roof. Alone. Twenty minutes.

And it takes her nineteen of those minutes to extricate herself from her mother, but she times her disappearance with the arrival of Kara’s geeky IT friend Winn.

The one whose lip had curled at the sight of Lilian Luthor, because she killed people. She killed people, good people, innocent people, and Winn knows.

Knows what it’s like to be the child of someone who is capable of that.

She doesn’t want to avoid him.

She wants to be around him, working at his side, now more than ever. And she will, she will.

But first, she pleads an excuse to run and get something from her second office, a vital component they’ll need. Winn nods as he gets to work, and Lena, heels or no heels, runs.

Runs up to the roof, the detonator safe in her pocket, safe between her fingers.

“Supergirl,” she calls, because Supergirl is watching her city start to smolder, hands on her hips and agony on her face.

“Lena,” she turns hastily, and she sounds, now more than ever, like Kara Danvers.

Smaller. More vulnerable. More breakable.

And Lena hates herself for the choice she’s putting in her hands. But she has to, she has to, and lorg she hopes that Kara will understand.

“I want you to have this.” 

She presses the detonator into Supergirl’s hands, and both of their eyes linger for a moment at the spot where their fingers touch until an explosion in the distance makes their eyes jagged, makes their eyes glazed, makes their eyes focused.

“What is it?”

“The detonator. My mother… she abandoned you on that Daxamite ship. And she’s only trying to make things better with me now to save her own skin. Because she knows I can get the device to work.”

“Lena, I am so sorry – “

But Lena stops her with trembling hands and a trembling laugh. 

“No, no, K – Supergirl, that’s not why I – I mean, she’ll detonate it. Whether you’ve reached the conclusion of your battle with Rhea or not. Kara Danvers.”

Supergirl starts, and Lena suppresses a sad smile.

“She could lose her boyfriend. I don’t want that to happen unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

If she feels anything about Kara having a boyfriend to begin with, she’s been trained by Lilian Luthor long enough, hard enough, degrading enough, to keep it off of her face. 

“This detonator – when Winn and I fix the device, this will activate it, not the device itself.”

Kara slips it into one of Winn’s very clever pockets and nods solemnly.

“Thank you, Lena. And when this is over, if you need to talk – about your mother, about Rhea – you’ll know where to find me.”

She twitches her knees like she does when she’s about to take off, and Lena reaches out for her arm instinctively.

Supergirl stills and Lena hesitates only for a millisecond before bringing her lips to her hero’s cheek, long and soft and lingering.

They both close their eyes, letting the feeling of Lena’s lips on Kara’s cheek replace the feeling of their city burning around them.

Lena pulls back, and Kara nods without looking at her.

She understands about strength. She’ll have it for Lena.

And Lena will have it for her.

She’s still shaking when she slips back into her office, and Winn barely glances up at her. He doesn’t have to – he knows she’ll be able to assess his progress so far at a glance.

But he hears a slight sniffle as she settles in beside him, her fingers immediately falling into rhythm with his, her calculations immediately weaving into and out of his.

“You okay?” he murmurs, because somehow he knows – of course he knows, of course, of course he does – that she wouldn’t want her mother to overhear any sign of perceived weakness.

She turns her head to pierce his eyes with her own for a moment, and briefly, just briefly, she lets him see the terror in them, the preemptive guilt and the worthlessness and the rage.

His hand hovers above hers, waiting for permission to touch her. She shifts her hand up, and the coolness of his skin is a relief.

The way he doesn’t flinch away from a Luthor is a relief.

“Lena Luthor, we’re about to blow up the Death Star together. Are you with me?”

And this time, Lena’s smile itself could end a war.

“I can see why Kara loves you so much,” she tells him as she passes him a voltage meter.

“And I can see why she loves you, too,” he grins, arching a suggestive, we’ll-talk-girls-later eyebrow as he takes what he didn’t even have to ask her for, and the rest of their work is flawless.

Because he’s right: they’re going to save the world together.