Warnings:NSFW 18+. Smut, swearing, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap the willy!) chocolate pie porn.
Request: Hello! I have a request, could you do one where the reader starts working for Tony and soon after the reader and Bucky start a secret affair? Thanks love! - Anon
A/N: Here you go my dear! Sorry that it took me so long!
‘You can do this.’
‘You have worked hard for this.’
‘You deserve this.’
The pep talk you were giving yourself as you drove up to the gate surrounding the Avengers compound wasn’t helping your nerves at all. You leaned forward to look up through your windshield at the concrete walls. This place was a fortress.
You rolled your window down when you approached a booth. You hit the green call button and jumped at the electronic voice that spoke.
that if the worst problem you have is that you have to get up from your tumbling to go get ready for a school fundraising party wherein a whole bunch of suburban moms start out talking about their kids’ extracurricular activities but then get turnt af on $11-a-bottle chardonnay and end up dancing like a pack of assholes to the kind of music I only hear at the gym, that you’re doing all right, but – godDAMN do I not want to go to there. I have to 1) put on makeup, 2) pretend I give an airborne fuck about soccer vs. gymnastics vs. hockey or whatever else these fuckin people do with their time, and 3) not spiral about XF s11, my Special Feelings about GA, and/or the amount of space Gillovny takes up in my brain. Send me good vibes, y’all … I need your strength to tuck into my party clutch alongside my lip-plumping gloss.
ah okay can u do one where tyler is the reader's upstairs neighbor and he plays the piano every night and it puts the reader to sleep, but then one night he stops and the reader can't sleep so she goes up and knocks on his door??
TYLER JOSEPH IMAGINE
As soon as you sit down to eat, it starts. But you planned it that way, so you smile to yourself. You feel your entire body relax, as you inhale deeply, picking up your fork once your shoulders had fallen. Your foot starts tapping as you try to follow the same rhythm as the keys playing above.
It’s a beautiful piece tonight. Yesterday was much faster and upbeat, but tonight it’s slow and almost sort of sad. You try to hum along.
You moved in about three months ago, your last place was just too far from your school, and it’s been incredible. You love it. It’s a good size, rent is cheap, and there’s also your upstairs neighbor who, every night at 7:30, without falter or fail, plays the piano beautifully for hours until you’re in bed, the rhythmic melody helping you fall asleep.
You never really spent a lot of time thinking about who was playing upstairs. Probably some old man or lady, you didn’t see how anyone below the age of 30 would have enough time to play a piano for hours on end.
That night, much like many others, you finished your dinner and fell asleep to the sound of your neighbor and their piano.
You can’t sleep, you’ve been tossing and turning since your head hit the pillow. This was the fourth night the piano hadn’t been played.
You’d just gotten so accustomed to listening to the notes every evening, you didn’t realize how much you had grown to depend on it until now. You knew you were going to wake up exhausted and grouchy. This is all your neighbor’s fault.
It’s 7:34 PM on a Thursday night and you’ve found yourself standing in front of your upstairs neighbor’s door. You honestly didn’t know what you were going to say, but you were feeling reckless and impulsive after running on hardly any sleep this week. Frankly, at this point, you didn’t really care. What’s the worst thing that could happen?
Before you knew it, you’re knocking on the door, eyes looking to the crack in the bottom of the door where you can see a small peak of a shadow.
“Who is it?” The person asks, his voice is muffled but it’s definitely a guy.
“Uh-your downstairs neighbor?” you try to say but it comes out as a question, this isn’t weird, right? Neighbors knock on their neighbors doors asking them to keep playing their piano, right? Right.
“Anne? Are you sick-Oh.” And what.
He’s not old, is the thing. The first thing you see is feet covered in speckled, gray socks, followed by black jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and a hand holding a bitten slice of pizza with a bandage. Uhh—
“You’re not Anne.” The boy says, his voice light, yet raspy.
“Anne-um. Moved. Sorry, am I in the right place? 34 B?” you ask because this pretty brown eyed, soft haired, boy cannot possibly be the anonymous piano player.
“Yeah…Can I help you?…” He asks, his unoccupied hand coming to rest on the open door and holy shit you can see a glimpse of a grand piano right behind him in his living room. What the hell?
“Piano?” you stupidly say, like that makes any sense. The boy turns around to look at his instrument and looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed.
“What?” He asks, one of his eyebrows raising, expecting an answer. God, he’s gorgeous.
“You stopped playing— I used to hear you? Downstairs?” you say and this is why you need to figure out what the hell you’re doing before going and actually doing it.
“Oh my piano.. yeah, I’m kinda taking a break from playing, sorry if it’s annoying or whatever, but I pay extra for this place to let me to play—"
“No, no! I love it!” you say, almost desperately, “I just-“ you stop to bite your lip and think for a second, “this is weird, but—“ you stop before disclosing the fact that the man’s music helps you sleep. “I actually miss it,” you say instead.
“Oh!” he says, almost surprised, “my hand though… see?” The boy huffs out a laugh as he raises his right bandaged hand that’s holding the pizza.
“Is that from playing too much?” you ask.
“The cost of playing an instrument, you know? I’m Tyler.” He extends his good hand for a shake and you can’t believe this. The mysterious piano player is a young, hot dude. What?
“I’m Y/N!” you reply, shaking his hand. You can’t help but notice how well your hands fit together so nicely.
“Y/N,” He starts, biting off a piece of pizza and continuing with his mouth full, “Do you want a slice of pizza?”
And, come on. It’s free pizza, You’re not going to say no.
You hit it off after that night. You kept having excuses to go back to see Tyler, the first time you brought Tyler a batch of your home made cookies, “a repayment for the pizza,” you had said and Tyler grinned and pulled you inside, grabbing two cups and filling them up with milk.
You learned more about Tyler every time you hung out, too. You found out Tyler is hilarious, he’s also sarcastic, he’s only been playing the piano since he was nineteen and has a band with his friend. That one you couldn’t believe at first, the way Tyler had said it so casually was surprising.
The next time you’re knocking, there seems to be a lot of commotion going on in Tyler’s apartment. But he answers, nonetheless.
“Y/N!” he greets with a smile.
“Hey,” you say, apprehensively. You hear the voices of at least two or three other people in the apartment.
“I just thought I’d say hi— didn’t know you had people over-“
“No, no, no! Come in! Meet my friends!” he says, opening the way for you to walk inside.
The thing is; you don’t do this kinda thing very often. Your only friend is a girl from school, but even then, you only hang out at school.
When you entered Tyler’s apartment, you see three other guys standing around.
“Y/N, this is Mark,” he points to a sandy-haired boy with a goofy grin, “Michael,” there’s a buff man holding a beer, “and Josh,” the yellow hair and bright smile gave away his identity as the other half to Tyler’s band.
You smile nervously and wave, feeling awkward just standing around. But soon after introductions, they carry on with whatever video game they were playing.
“Come on in, Y/N. Don’t be shy!” Tyler says softly. He goes and sits on the soft, patting on the spot next to him. “Come sit, there’s enough space!”
There isn’t space enough. Well, not really at least. The sofa is more of a love-seat, and you end up pressed right against Tyler. He doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and when he casually throws his arm around your waist after a few minutes, you start to relax.
It ends up being a really good night. You try a few rounds of Mario-Cart but stop, because you end up being so horrible. You don’t mind though. You’re perfectly content with just watching the other guys play while you’re cuddled close to Tyler. You can’t really remember the last time you’ve had so much fun. They’re all constantly making jokes and telling stories and laughing, and you feel so carefree, almost like you’re floating.
At some point, you must have fallen asleep, cause when you open your eyes, it’s to Tyler slowly caressing your cheek. “Wakey, wakey,” he says softly with a chuckle.
You slowly blink and then move to sit up straight. “Oh,” you say, slightly dazed. “Did I fall asleep?”
Tyler nods. “Yeah, about an hour ago. The guys just left though, so I figured it was about time I woke you up. I’m sorry though.. You looked really peaceful, sleeping.”
You look at how your legs are strangling Tyler’s and notice how you’re perfectly curled into his side. You blush, but are too sleepy to be embarrassed about it. “’m sorry,” you mumble. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. I’ll- uh..” you yawn. “I’ll go home then.”
Tyler smiles. “I didn’t mind. It was quite comfy, actually. Come on,” he says. “I’ll walk you out.”
You make your way to the front door. When Tyler opens the door, you turn around to thank him.
“Thank you for letting me hang out. And like, letting me sleep on you, I guess. I had a really good night,” you say, still slightly blushing.
Tyler either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about embarrassment. “No problem. I had a really good night too.” He bites his lip and then raises his hand to touch yours. It’s a light brush, but you feel sparks of electricity spike through you.
You’re about to start nodding, when Tyler leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “See you soon?”
You’re baffled, but somehow you manages to mutter out a “yes” before walking away.
Later, when you’re alone in your own bed, you replay the kiss in your head so many times you start getting dizzy. And yes, you think, you could totally get used to this.
The next day, Tyler’s the one knocking on your door. You’re surprised, but even more so when he asks you out for coffee with him.
After ten minutes of scrambling around looking for shoes and your wallet, you’re out the door, heading down the street. There’s a cozy cafe on the corner and Tyler holds the door for you. You let out a sigh of relief after getting shelter from the cold.
You sit in a small booth near the front window and cradle your cup of hot chocolate between your fingers as you watch people walk by.
Tyler makes sure to keep the conversation going, and there’s never really a dull moment.
You’re laughing loudly when Tyler reaches out at your face. You freeze in your seat as you feel his thumb sweep softly over your lip.
Tyler smiles and pulls his hand back. “You had a little chocolate-moustache, sorry.”
You smile back, but look down, blushing hard.
Tyler takes a breath. “Okay, look at me for a second please.”
You raise your head and carefully stare at Tyler, trying not to get lost in his breathtaking brown eyes.
“I like you,” Tyler then says.
Your breath hitches in your throat and your hands freeze where they’re laying near Tyler’s. “You…” you mumble, but it sounds more like a question.
Tyler’s eyebrows climb high on his forehead. “Like you, yes.” He says, nodding in affirmation, eyes widened with anticipation.
Tyler smiles again, “Man, I thought I was being obvious. I like you, and I’m not afraid to admit that to anyone.” He laughed softly. “I’m sorry for springing this on you like this, because I have no idea how you even feel about me, but-“
You interrupt him, “Seriously?” The surprise is clear in your eyes. “I have a huge crush, I mean the size of Everest on you, Tyler.”
For the first time that day, Tyler seems taken back a bit. “Well, I mean- I guess I didn’t want to assume anything?”
You laugh, “Can I tell you something?” you ask, fixing your eyes back on Tyler.
He nods carefully.
“Your piano playing helps me sleep,” you sigh, “I used to curl up in bed and listen every night, it soothed me. When you stopped, I couldn’t fall asleep, I just tossed and turned. That’s why I came up that night— to see why you stopped.”
Tyler just stared at you with a fond look on his face. “It put you to sleep?” He says smiling.
You’re suddenly hit by a wave of shyness, “Yeah…” you mumble, it sounded stupid.
“Y/N?” Tyler says softly, and you look up at him again. “Can I kiss you?” he continues, voice barely more than a whisper.
Your heart stops for a second, before you slowly nod. “Honestly? I’d be really disappointed if you didn’t.”
Tyler leans forward and softly presses your lips together. He tastes like mocha and every wonderful thing in the world, and you think that this is probably the best first kiss someone could ever have.
Later that night you’re curled up into Tyler’s side, listening to the rise and fall of his chest. You sigh in frustration, finding that you, once again, cannot sleep.
“I really wish your hand wasn’t hurt— then you could play for me,” you pout, poking your lip out and looking up at him.
He chuckles, giving you a small squeeze before disclosing, “You know I can sing, right?”
You furrow your eyebrows, racking your brain for the conversation where he told you that… But you can’t recall. You would’ve remembered. You would’ve made him demonstrate.
“You never told me that—“
“Would you like me to sing to you? Then maybe you could fall asleep?”
You nod into his chest, burying your face into the fabric of his shirt before saying, “Yes, please.”
Tyler clears his throat lightly before starting to sing— and it’s beautiful. At first, your chest fills up with so much admiration for Tyler that sleep is the last thing on your mind. But he continues and his soft tune mixed with the feeling of his hand running up and down your back softly, has you calming down. Your eyes soon grow heavy and after only a couple of verses, you’ve drifted off into a deep, sleep.
Trick or Sweets, the Netherworld candy company based in Peyroux, has been busy conjuring up a new variety of flavors. Released just in time for Halloween, the slime-based sweets line has been an instant hit with the taste testing terrors.
Black Bunch Crunch: A caramel and ooze ball rolled in dirt, piled high with stinkweed, and wrapped in a magical scroll.
Pumpkin Slime: The inner string guts of a pumpkin mixed with spider webs and cotton candy. The ball is then rolled in seeds and foxglove petals before being stuck to a chocolate-dipped finger bone.
Underwater Sludge Surprise: A salty treat developed by sea sirens! Sailor bones and coral mashed into a nougat and candied. Octopus ink is drizzled in skull shapes on top.
Ecto Bones: A modern take on a classic recipe. A spoonful of graveyard dirt and bone shards are boiled in a copper cauldron, hexed with blue- violet magic under a full moon, and then enrobed in witch chocolate.
All Trick or Sweets candy and packaging are enchanted to be enjoyed by the living, undead (corporeal and non-), and monstrous alike.
Viv… Viv… Vivianne. The voice in her mind was soft, faint, but so clearly Kallias it hurt her at the pain it portrayed to her. But it, he made the throne room she stood in a whole lot less lonely.
Kall, what’s wrong? her mind whispered back to him.
I don’t have long, Amarantha’s taking over… I need you to stay in the court… and protect my… protect our people… please Viv. She could feel the desperation in her best friends voice. She went to answer back but he interrupted her.
And… Viv… It was like there was static on the other end of the connection before his mind spoke to hers again.
I love you… I… I have always loved you… I will always love you… Goodbye Viv
Of course I’ll stay and protect she tried to say, tried to convey hope to him, but he was gone, his power gone and her mind empty of her best friend who hadn’t ever left her like this.
I love you is what she thinks about after she’s sent soldiers to protect the Court’s entire boundary. She still hasn’t moved from the floor of the throne room, her feet glued to the marble, her mind spinning, her mouth dry.
I love you
I have always loved you
I will always love you
What the hell did that mean? It was a statement said in desperate times but Vivianne had felt the truth in it and it shook her to her heart, to her soul, to every bone in her immortal body. It scared her, it invigorated her, It made her feel so many different things her mind couldn’t process them at a fast enough rate.
He had loved her. Always. She never realised. It hadn’t even occurred to her. Her knees buckled under her and she hit the floor, her furs and armour the only thing protecting her from shattering her kneecaps. She didn’t care. She almost wanted the pain to wake her up. Her tears dropped to the floor before she realised they had started. She didn’t bother wiping them away.
Because, ever since she could remember, whenever she cried, it was Kallias who wiped the tears away.
Snow. Snow. Snow. You tilted your head back, hair resting against a thick scarf. A bleak pale sky burned your eyes, as the invisible sun’s rays bounced aimless through the white cloud layer. White flakes, thick and clumped, spiraled to the earth. Fluffy ice stuck to the knit strands of your beanie and your eyelashes. You stuck out your tongue on whimsy. The field was empty leaving no need for social pretense. Your arms spread out as you spun in place with abandon. Stress melted away, leaving nothing but the blanket of snow and the pounding of music pulsating from your earbuds. Your boot stuck, but you didn’t care, letting your body fall into the thick pile of snow. Air pushed from your lungs, the calm winterscape cutting into the heavy guitar riff as a bud dislodged. You laughed breathlessly smiling into the blaunch void. You nodded in beat to the song, gloved hand wiping the snow from the pliable rubber piece. A whiney growl paused your hand next to your ear.
Warning: Smut, Swearing, Angst, References to past psychological trauma
Summary: Bucky Barnes struggles in a world of violence and pain. But when she enters his life, he begins to feel new, beautiful emotions. He no longer feels crippled with guilt. He feels solace. He feels again.
A/N: Gif is not mine :)
It all started on a mission in Romania.
After a days worth of trekking through the dense, Romanian forest, you finally reached the small wooden cabin that would become you and the Winter Soldier’s safe house.
The cabin was a cute little thing, cozy and warm, with a large family room that boasted a beautiful, stone fireplace. It was the type of house that made you feel at home even though you had only been inside for five minutes. The four bedrooms were quite large and the master suite had a large, soft bed that felt as though you were sinking through clouds. This was definitely the place you wanted to be after a hike through the Romanian Alps.
After washing up, you sat by the fire Bucky had started and allowed your hair to dry. As you did, you slowly became transfixed by the hypnotic dance of the fames that flickered in a rhythmic beat, the heat of their passionate waltz permeating onto your skin.
A rustle at the door pulled your focus away from the fire and toward Bucky, who was carrying large logs of wood in his arms.
“Hey,” he smiled as he walked into the living room where you were comfortably perched.
“Hi,” you smiled back; just as Bucky crouched down to toss another log in the fire. You gave him a quick glance before your eyes turned back toward the fire.
You and Bucky had rarely exchanged words during the mission. He was a quiet listener and polite but he kept his thoughts to himself. It was when the two of you were trudging through the forest when he started to open up, as though the wild had awakened a part of him that helped him settle in the skin that he wore like armor. But he still didn’t divulge much about himself, and you found him mysterious.
Laughing with friends, Plaid shirts, Kicking stuff, Singing in the shower, Smiling so that your cheeks hurt, Jumping into a pool, Running through tall grass, Climbing trees, Tickling friends, Gazing into a fire, Drinking cider, Hugging a pet, Seeing old friends, Screaming, Driving nowhere, Building a sandcastle then crushing it, Snowball fights, Hot chocolate, Tapping your fingers, Waterfalls.
The perfect playlist, Getting full marks on a test, Stargazing, Pencils in colour order, Peeling the plastic off a DVD, The smell of books, Talking to yourself, Tearstained cheeks, Writing poetry, Freckles, Trying to reach something on the top shelf, Forehead kisses, Mirrors smashing, Sore hands after drawing, Filling a notebook, Giving advice, Swearing under your breath.
Tension easing from your back when you get into a hot bath, Stopping to smell the flowers, Swing sets, Bubblegum, Absentmindedly strumming a guitar, Sticking up for a friend, Giggling, Handholding, Fluffy socks, Crunchy autumn leaves, Plaited hair, Getting ice cream on your nose, Polaroid pictures, Clay-covered hands.
Empty perfume bottles, Heels on tiles, Tiptoeing, Fingerless gloves, Leather sofas, Moonlight reflecting off of a still lake, Stepping back to admire your work, Dancing for hours, Neon signs, Broken pianos, Abandoned houses, Monotone photography, Red umbrellas.
Squeezing a little culture in. Darcy and I interpreting the art very seriously. ‘Looks like they are having a party but I can’t see any chocolate fingers mummy’. 😂👧🏼👌🏻 #lptraveladventures ✈️ http://ift.tt/2oBfVID
Prompt: Tease war with Baron. You both are teasing each other to see who will crack first and it ends up being Baron when you show him new lingerie you got and things get super dom and smutty with sexual tension being released.
6. Things you said under the stars and in the grass
Note: Requested by @lilydalexf. These have been a lot of fun to write, so please feel free to request more!
“How much do you know about stars, Scully?”
I ask her as we lay side by side in the grass at Sky Meadow State Park. We’re on our way back to DC from a case in Southern Virginia, but I’d suggested stopping here until the evening traffic on the Beltway subsided. That was two hours ago. Two hours, two hot dogs, and two ice cream cones later, to be precise; the radius of DC hot dog stands is much larger than I’d imagined. Now, we’re content to lay next to each other, lazily digesting our dinners as we watch the sky transition from the orange glow of sunset to night’s dark mantle. Crickets and cicadas provide a pleasant soundtrack to the evening. The urge to return to the bustle of civilization seems as far away as the stars that currently hold our gaze.
“I know a little,” she says. “My father taught me a few of the stars and constellations used in celestial navigation.”
“Well, for starters, there’s Polaris - the North Star. It’s more accurate than any compass, since it’s not subject to periodic variations of magnetic force.”
I scan the sky for what I vaguely recall as a Dipper-like outline of stars, but much to my embarrassment, I can’t locate it. “You already know this about me, Scully, but it’s worth repeating that I was a lousy Indian Guide as a kid,” I admit, somewhat sheepishly.
I can feel her body shake with laughter beside me. “Cassiopeia might be easier to locate. It looks like a poorly written letter ‘M.’ Look over to your left a bit.”
“Got it,” I say once I find it. “The queen whom the gods placed upside down in the sky as punishment for her vanity.” I may not know the constellations, but I am familiar with the myths that inspired them.
“It’s also a useful constellation in locating the North Star,” Scully adds, clearly unimpressed by my knowledge of Greek mythology. “If you bisect the second apex of the ‘M,’ the line points straight to it.”
“Ah, I see it, now.”
“The North Star will always be the same angle above the horizon as your latitude. Just make an outstretched fist, like this.” I see the silhouette of her arm as she holds it up in the air. I do the same with mine.
“That’s roughly ten degrees of latitude,” she says. “So where we are, here in Virginia…”
“We’re at about forty degrees, or just shy of four fists.” I find myself blurting out the answer like an overeager ten-year old being called on in class. “This knowledge could’ve come in handy that time we were lost in the Apalachicola Forest in Florida, you know.”
“We were in the woods, Mulder. It’s hard to see the stars when there are trees blocking the view. Besides, I was busy keeping you from going into shock.”
Touché, I think, smiling at the memory. I haven’t heard her this animated since the invisible man she autopsied a few months ago, and I’m loving every word.
“I’m sorry. You were saying?”
“Orion - which is close to the horizon this time of year - rises in the east and sets in the west. Orion’s belt practically draws a straight line for you. Mintaka, the westernmost star on the belt, will always rise and set within one degree of true east and true west.”
“My favorite constellation, though,” she says after a few moments of shared silence, “is Cetus. You can’t see it this time of year, though. Only in winter.”
“Cetus. The sea monster that threatened to eat Andromeda?”
“That’s one interpretation. I prefer to think of him as a whale.”
“Spoken like the daughter of a sea captain,” I say, wondering if she can detect the smile in my words. “I had no idea you were into stars, Scully.”
“It was a nice pastime that my dad and I shared. When he first taught me how to navigate by the stars, I was amazed by the notion that something millions of miles away could help you figure out where you were right here, on Earth.” She pauses. “I guess I still am.”
“And based on what you know, where are we now?”
I take her silence as evidence that she’s busy employing her mental sextant and superior sense of direction to determine our location. Her answer, though, is not what I expect.
“Well, I know that we’re out here in rural Virginia on a beautiful May evening. I know that I’m lying next to the World’s Worst Indian Guide, and together, we’re marveling at the wonders of a brilliant night sky. I also know that I’m happy, and have a strong suspicion that you are, too. Based on all of that, I’d say we’re right where we’re supposed to be.”
Wordlessly, I lean over and find her lips in the darkness. Her mouth tastes like mint chocolate. I feel her fingers run through my hair as my thumb traces tiny circles on her cheek. This level of intimacy is still terra incognita for us, but it feels so right - so natural - that I wonder what the hell took us so long to get here.
I slowly pull away and slide my arm beneath her until her head is resting in the crook of my shoulder.
“I think you’re right, Scully,” I say quietly, looking up at stars. “We’re right where we’re supposed to be.”
Rays of the mirrored sun slice through the heavy curtains, leaving the tiniest of patterned shadows reflecting on both of your peaceful, resting faces.
Still dressed in comfortable sleepwear, neither one of you noticed how the birds had already sung their morning’s tune, or how the obnoxiously loud buzz had once called to awaken the both of you two for the day’s work. Neither one of you cared.
Bodies melting like warm chocolate and fingers intertwined into one another as warm glances and feathery pecks along the jaw were exchanged. Your face gently buried within the nape of his slender neck
He takes each and every passing moment; his eyes quietly drinking in your sleeping figure, as if the painted scenery were to only turn out to be a dream once he was to be pulled back down from these sweet, blissful clouds.
How your lips slightly parted, rosy with sleep. Or how your porcelain cheeks, soft to the touch, were just begging to be fluttered the kisses.
Oh, how angelically beautiful the sight of you is in his arms
Fingers delicately tighten their hold around your middle, too afraid you’ll float up to the thick, milky sky, along with the rest of the twinkling stars where you truly should have belong. A goddess, he believes-genuinely sure you must be some sort of fallen angel from the clouds above whom he’s been blessed with for the good deeds done in his recollection of past lives. His fingers lightly run over the silky expanse of your flushed cheeks, admiring the beautiful gift of you, dreaming right beside him.
The forgotten seconds of embrace and thoughts had long turned into minutes as the clock continued echoing the ticks, coincidentally matching to the steady beats of one another's’ hearts.
Eyelids grow heavier and heavier as the comfortable silence gently veils upon your mingling bodies. Before finally resting his eyes, waiting to draw him back to his morning day slumber, he arches his neck, eyes playfully taking just one last peek-marveling at how effortlessly breathtaking you looked within the embrace of his protective arms. With a satisfied grin, he softly rests his head back against the duvet covers and gently blinks his tired eyes to a light close.
“This is what heaven must feel like…” he dreamily whispers
A/N: Hi!~ As a relatively new writer here on tumblr, I AM CURRENTLY TAKING REQUESTS FOR BTS/OPTIONAL BIAS WRITINGS YAYY!! They may take awhile but I accept any genre, any AU, or whatever you may think of, so go on, request away! 💕
prompt: an Angel falls to earth and they land in bumfuck America and the first place they go is a diner, bloodstained and singed, to have a shitty cup of coffee
five conversations between a waitress named maria and an angel, recently fallen
1. Maria hadn’t said anything when the woman came in, blood in her teeth and a purpling bruise on her cheekbone. She’d been dressed too warmly for the mild spring, a puffy overcoat that hid her arms, her whole body, all the way down to her knees. But Maria hadn’t said anything, not when the woman ducked into the diner’s bathroom, coming back with everything washed away but the dirt under her nails, not when when she wanted the table by the window, and a cup of coffee, just coffee. (Cream and sugar? Maria had asked, but the question seemed to confuse her.) Maria hadn’t said a word as the woman sat there, coffee untouched for hours, until it was almost closing.
She was still staring fixedly out the dark window, as though the coming and going of the truckers at the gas station next door were some code in need of deciphering.
Maria cleared her throat, making the woman startle. “We’re about to close the kitchen, did you want a fresh cup?”
“A fresh–oh. No, I don’t–don’t like the way it tastes.”
“Did you want to order something else?”
“No, no, it’s just–people are always ordering coffee. I thought it must taste…not like this.”
Maria was startled into laughing, and was gratified to see a tentative smile cross the strange woman’s face. “That might just be Jenny’s day-old roast. You probably ought to try Starbucks or something before handing down the final verdict,” Maria told her, smiling.
The woman had kind eyes. “I will.”
Maria looked at her for a second, then set the coffee pot down on the table. She slid into the booth across from her, and folded her hands together. “Look, it’s none of my business, but–if you’re in some trouble, I got a friend who works in Family Services, I’d be happy to call her for you.”
There was a flash of panic across the stranger’s face. “No, I–I don’t have any family,” she said carefully, looking at some point over Maria’s shoulder.
“Whoever gave you those bruises–”
Maria’s heart ached. “Look…”
The woman frowned, her dark eyes searching Maria’s face as though trying to read the thoughts behind it. “No, I really did fall,” she insisted.
“Okay. Okay, just–I’m putting it out there. You should know there are options, you don’t have to stay. Look, I’ve got to get the dishwasher running, so…don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll walk out with you.”
When Maria came back to the table, the untouched coffee was still there. Underneath was a twenty dollar bill, the edges very slightly singed.
Hufflepuff: a clear blue sky, crisp white clouds, sunflowers stalks swaying in the breeze, waking up early and fixing a cup of tea/coffee as the sun rises, a soft cushioned couch, burrowing under piles of pillows and fleece blankets, rain splashing and sliding down windows, putting on your favorite pair of socks in the morning, the snap of jean buttons and overall clasps, sticking your bare feet in dewy grass, cloud-gazing, the feeling of your fingers in the rich earth, the smell of freshly made cookies baking in the oven, the creak of the door when you first get home, licking chocolate off your finger tips, stroking your pet meditatively, spinning in circles until you get too dizzy and fall down, watching as seedlings begin to grow, succulents and ivy spilling out of garden beds, moss and lichens growing on rocks, new blossoms appearing on trees, the glare of sunlight out of the corner of your eye, hearing birdsong as evening begins to set in.
Slytherin: Fog rolling over landscapes, rain pouring down from the sky and the sound when it hits your umbrella as you walk around in a rainstorm, the feminine rustle of petticoats and tulle, shining black shoes glistening under candle light, gentle quiet notes being played on the piano, stepping into a warm shower early in the morning, a hand brushing your cheek gently, the slick sound when you adjust a tie, a cigarette held between two fingers gently, freshly applied lipstick, the flourish of a cloak or a heavy coat, the whistle of the wind in your ears and the hollow sound it creates when the wind beats against your house, evening walks, lighting candles in a pitch black room, power outs, train pistons moving, the crackle of thunder, pricking your finger on a needle, tall grass waving in the breeze, settling down in front of a blazing fire, finding a secluded spot to spend time with close friends, the subtle glisten of blood, silvery moonlit walks in the forest at night.
Gryffindor: Pounding heartbeat shaking your chest, the rush of blood in your ears, sticking a hand out the window of a car while driving and feeling the wind pass through your fingers, the apprehension when you reach the top of the roller coaster, chanting in a crowd of people, crowd surfing, the feeling of sweat on your upper brow, running and rolling down steep hills, the sound of skateboard wheels on pavement, drinking your first cup of coffee in the morning, waking up late on your day off and staying in bed as long as you want to, picking at scabs, the clink of chain link fences, oversized sweaters draping over your body and making you feel small and comfy, yelling your throat raw, feeling music on every cell of your body, turning your music up too loud and drowning out the world, feet peddling a bike, the rush of nearly getting caught, laughing loudly with a group of friends.
Ravenclaw: the smell when you walk into a bookstore, tenderly handling leather bound books, hand cramping from extensive writing, paint smudges on your hands, wearing old pairs of jeans, ink blotches covering the margins of notebooks, color coded notes, sitting beneath a tree and reading, opening a newly bought book, reading the last line of a book, stage curtains rustling gently, holding your breath under water, letting ocean waves hit your ankles, star gazing late into the night, walking down quiet country lanes, pulling your hair back so that you can focus, water boiling in a kettle, slipping into a steaming bath surrounded by candles, soft lamplight dimly lighting a room, brushing impatient and frustrated fingers through hair, writing on the first page of a new notebook, opening your window to listen to the sound of rain as you fall asleep at night, collecting leaves and feathers, watering plants, freshly washed and dried hair
Arizona’s eyes followed her seven-year-old daughter as she crossed the small café, a bounce in her step as she approached the counter and waited for the barista to hand her down her own small hot chocolate. Sofia was getting so big – over the last year she’d been in New York, the little girl had grown in spades, both physically and emotionally, and although she’d always been a little precocious Arizona was sure she was now intelligent far beyond her years.
Callie let her gaze follow her ex-wife’s for a moment before directing it back across the table toward the blonde herself, and she reached out almost instinctively, her hand lightly squeezing the other woman’s.
“The truth, Arizona. She’s going to be so happy.”
“Exactly,” blue eyes immediately glanced toward the elder brunette, “she’s going to be so happy, Callie…but what if this…what if we don’t work out – again? It’s going to break her heart. She was never old enough before to know any different, but if this doesn’t work and we break up again, she’s going to be crushed–”
Callie cut the smaller woman off, glancing over towards their daughter again to see that she was now animatedly in conversation with the teenager behind the bar.
“Stop thinking we’re going to break up again.”
Arizona’s eyes flickered up to meet the deep brown gaze across the small table, and her fingers fiddled lightly with the open collar of her jacket.
“This is it for us,” Callie continued speaking softly when the blonde didn’t reply, “we are together. We’ve been together again for nearly six months, and I know it’s been long-distance but it’s felt so, so right. You’re it for me, Arizona. I’m never letting you go again – I’m not going anywhere. Are you?”
A small smile graced the beautiful features in front of her, and Arizona let out a calming breath, letting her own smile match the other woman’s.
“I love you, Calliope. I’m not going anywhere either.”
“Mom, Mama, guess what!”
Sofia appeared beside them with her to-go cup carefully held in her hand, and she set it on the table as Arizona pushed her chair back a bit, allowing the young girl to climb into her lap. With her mother’s arm wrapped snugly around her waist, Sofia grinned happily, pulling her cup towards her again.
“The girl who makes the drinks is named Sofia too! I saw it on her apron. And I know I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name but you were right here and she was super nice and she said anytime we come back she’ll make sure to give me extra marshmallows and the chocolate sauce on top and the whip cream cause Sofia is the best name.”
Callie couldn’t help the grin that lit up her face as she watched them. Sofia was so much like Arizona – from her expressions and her sense of humour, down to her bubbly, talkative personality. She’d missed this – missed them together. Their weekends over the last year had never been enough.
“Sofia is the very best name,” Arizona’s dimpled grin matched their daughter’s as she smoothed down some flyaway dark hair, “and maybe we can come back here next Sunday, how about that?”
The young girl looked up at her mother and then across at her other parent, brown eyes curious and hopeful.
“Are we really still gonna be here next Sunday?”
“We are, I told you, baby,” Callie wrapped her hands around her own warm cup of coffee, “we’re home for good. That’s why we packed up everything in New York.”
“Just making sure. Are you going to keep staying with me and mom and Andrew?”
“Actually, Sof…” Arizona glanced over her head to see Callie nod, confirming what she was about to say, “I think you, me, and mama are going to get a new house – just the three of us.”
Sofia’s face lit up immediately – although her eyebrow arched curiously as she looked up into the blue eyes of her mother.
“Another new house?”
Laughing softly, Arizona dropped a kiss on her temple, squeezing the small body affectionately around the middle.
“I know, sweetie. There have been a lot of new houses the last couple years. But this one will be the last, I promise. It’ll be a really good one.”
“And we’re going to live there for a long, long time. Together.”
Callie chimed in, and she could see the gears turning in the young girl’s mind as she sipped her hot chocolate again, her inquisitive brown eyes studying Callie’s own for a minute.
“Because you and mommy love each other again, right? Like, love love. That’s really why we came home.”
Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres was always so much smarter than her mothers imagined – not that either of them were terribly surprised. And they’d been kidding themselves in thinking she hadn’t picked up on what was happening between them.
“Yeah, Sof,” Callie laughed softly, reaching over to twine her fingers with Arizona’s in plain sight of their daughter, “I love love her. I love her a lot.”
Arizona smiled, her gaze meeting Callie’s over the top of Sofia’s head. and she tightened her hold ever so slightly on the hand wrapped around hers.
“I love you, Arizona.”
And while it wasn’t the first time they’d uttered the words since being together again – in fact, they’d spoken them many times, in many ways over the phone and in texts and on weekends in New York – it was the first time they’d spoken them in front of Sofia. And somehow, speaking that promise out loud to her was even more of a commitment – even further solidifying their need, and more importantly their want to be together. Because the one thing they’d realized over the last six months was that being in love with each other was so much more than a simple, invisible pull – it was undeniable, fated even, that much was clear – but it was also a choice. And for the last time, for good, they had chosen each other.
Sofia grinned widely, plucking a half melted marshmallow from the top of her cup, and practically glowing from the obvious love of both her mothers, she popped it into her mouth, licking her chocolately fingers.
As far as she was concerned, it was simple. Her mothers loved her, and they loved each other. She had everything she’d always wanted.
“Can we invite Andrew over for supper sometimes though? He’s not a very good cook…he might starve without us.”