it barely answers your prompt but i struggled i really did


Summary: In which losing someone shouldn’t be so effortless, but your friend does it without thinking twice. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,290

A/N: Title inspired by Over My Head by the Fray. This is for anyone who had a friend abandon them for no reason (that you’re aware of) and who felt the sting of that loss.

@avengerstories - you’re honestly the queen of editing and I’d be lost without you.

Originally posted by jlstreck

Your silence is something Bucky is unfamiliar with. For as long as he’s known you, you’ve always had something to say. When he first arrived at the tower and refused to say a word, you were there to talk enough for the both of you. He didn’t tell you then, but it was the thing that comforted him most during those early days.

Your silence is something Bucky doesn’t know what to do with. It comes out of the blue and makes him question what’s wrong. Or more correctly, what he did wrong. You still let him hug you whenever he wants and kiss you until the both of you are gasping for air, yet he still can’t help but wonder.

Your silence makes Bucky nervous because what could have possibly happened to turn you into a shadow of the person you once were?

Keep reading

harrys-tittie  asked:

26 maybe

Thank you for requesting! I hope you’re well. xxx 

prompt: ‘That isn’t appropriate’ or alternatively Part 2/2 of ‘giving Harry a blowjob in front of his friends.’ I want to first say that I KNOW that this one isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea. I’m fully aware of that. That’s why there’s this disclaimer. With that said, I hope you like it. Thank you SO MUCH for being patient. I know I was a fucking spazz with this so thank you. I’ll repay you all somehow. Probably with a smut concept night. Or would that be more for me…

[27] Do you want to show them love? [MATURE.] 

It snowed the day before Harry landed back at home. And she was really cross about it because she wanted him here to watch it fall. And maybe she was just as cross because Harry was spending his days in the sun while she was avoiding muddy puddles.

But Harry is back at home after it felt like months when it had actually been two weeks. Which is actually, quite the same thing in both of their eyes.

He’d barely left the house. Not even when his body had gotten used to the London cold. Not even when he should have been somewhere else. There is no somewhere else or any other pressing place to be. He should only be here. At home warming himself up by laying right beside her as they catch up on episodes they’re not paying attention to anymore.

‘House is nearly all furnished.’ He grins playing with her fingers. He’d finished where they left off when she had left. ‘S’ready for you, you’re the only thing missing.’ He brings her hand to his lips.

They managed the furnishing after arguing about paint colors from across the globe.

It looks like sick!’ She argues into the phone, loud enough just to be sure her opinion of the color is carried effectively.

That peach color just won’t do.

‘Does not!’

‘Does too! Looks exactly like my 22nd birthday did in the toilet! You were there!’ She explains.

‘s’fucking disgusting.’ He groans at the image she’s instilled in his head.

‘S’what I’m saying!’

Harry liked falling back into this routine. The one he has with her, the one they share. He likes matching his routine to hers and not the other way around. Feels less guilt this way.

He likes making her tea in the morning instead of just for him, likes eating breakfast with her instead of on his own, likes planning meals to cook for dinner and likes taking a bath with her instead of running one just for him.

He fits. Fits really nicely into this routine they’ve created for themselves. He’s found a place in her life and she’s found a place in his.

It’s half eleven and gloomy, the sun is struggling to come out but it’s getting there.

‘I think you’re growing up.’ She grins peeling back her banana.

‘You think?’ He grins.

‘A dinner party at home for a birthday party? No club? No lads holiday in Jamaica? Should start checking for grays.

‘I should.’ He agrees taking his phone off the charger. ‘That’ll be your job then.’

His birthday isn’t until tomorrow and they will probably still go out. His mum is throwing him another party tomorrow night for family as well. But Harry is looking forward to this party the most. He’s seen enough clubs, they’re more of the same after a while. And his group of good friends has narrowed down over the years to the very best ones. He doesn’t need the large groups and loud outings anymore. But he wouldn’t mind laying out in Jamaica, he could use the tan he thinks but he’d much prefer staying here with her than a bit of color.  

‘They know,’ She sits back on the kitchen island. ‘About tonight?’

‘They do.’ He replies and she nods looking down at her phone when it vibrates. She wonders how that conversation sounded like. She’s glad she wasn’t around to hear it. ‘Having second thoughts?’ He asks. ‘Won’t be mad if you are.’

‘Oddly no,’ She laughs. ‘I want to give this to you.’

She’s warmed up to idea now. She’s had two weeks to make sure. She still thinks it’s crazy, it is crazy but she’s curious. And her curiosity has overtaken her hesitation. ‘I’ve got to practice now don’t I?’ She grins looking down at her banana realizing the innuendo. She brings it to her lips, slips it passed them before hollowing her cheeks theatrically.

‘Jesus—don’t start this now.’ He groans. ‘None of that, we’re late.’

She grins sliding off the kitchen island to grab her bag, ‘was just practicing for tonight.’

‘Don’t need any practice.’ He urges her along. They always seem to run late together. ‘Fortunately for me, you’ve got enough practice.’ He says completley serious before answering his phone.

And she laughs sarcastically as she throws away the banana peel and follows him to the front door. ‘Good one, s’funny. You’re funny today.’

She’d hoped they’d go on a run like they usually do on some mornings but it’s too cold and rainy and he doesn’t want her slipping on the wet pavement. And they hardly leave each other alone when they have so little time. So she’ll join him at the gym, he’ll do his thing and she’ll do hers. He uses that time to think anyway. Maybe she’ll do a few bouts in the ring as well.

‘You’ll tell me when it’s time for it?’ She asks once they’re both in the car. ‘Because—’

‘Of course.’

‘M’just gonna be on my knees right?’ She asks gathering her hair to tie it up.

‘Just how you would any other time. However you choose to, S’up to you.’

She nods but her stomach churns a bit, but then it tightens at the thought. And the more she pictures it, the more bothered and flushed she gets.

She’s shaken out of it though when Harry’s phone rings inside the car. And it’s no help at all that it’s his mum about lunch tomorrow for his birthday. It’s their thing every year. She fans her red cheeks as she greets his mum as well. She doesn’t stop either as she answers her questions about what their plans for tonight are.

She’s practically begging him to step in and help her. Harry bites on his lip as he tries hard not to laugh. Her cheeks cool off only slightly when the call ends and Harry finally releases the laugh he’s kept in.

‘That was terrible of you.’ She glares.

‘I can’t lie to her! I’ll just start mumbling and muttering! So I had to keep quiet.’ He grins as he pulls into the parking spot. She nods sarcastically at his reasoning.

They walk from the car to the gym quickly as the rain starts to drizzle. Harry didn’t miss the rain, even just this pretentious drizzle. But he did miss walking side by side with her so what’s a few rain drops?

‘Can’t believe you’re doing this.’ He wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him as they walk. It is in fact, quite chilly.

‘I can’t believe it either.’ She replies and he laughs into her neck. ‘Must be just as crazy, must love you a lot too.’

‘Love you.’ He pulls up the hood of her jacket so she doesn’t get too wet. ‘A lot.’ He says. ‘Love you too much.’  

‘Too much, really?’ She grins. ‘Sounds excessive.’

‘Mhmm, isn’t good. Haven’t got anything left for anyone else.’ He kisses her cheek, does so a few times too until she’s struggling out of his hold trying to escape the attack.

‘You could easily just split it up evenly between me and—’

‘I can’t! Not when you’re taking up all of it!’ He whines. ‘Took it all. Every drop.’

She accepts that it’s her fault. Because she too has a hard time not giving him everything she has.

She lets him get to it, get to whatever training day it happens to be. She’s lost count and can’t keep up with his work out schedule.

She leaves the gym earlier anyway, to pick up his cake. He doesn’t know there’s a cake but there most definitely is. She got them sparkler candles too. She figures because Harry doesn’t like all the bells and whistles or anything over the top for his birthday, she’ll be the one to make sure he gets them anyway.

He tries his hardest to keep away from sweets, more so now when he’s at the gym everyday. But he’ll just have to make an exception this time. Because this is his favorite cake and it’s his birthday.

When she gets back she inspects the house to make sure he’s still at the gym. She puts the cake in the fridge with a note on it warning him about possible consequences if he takes a peek. And she knows he won’t because he can’t afford consequences, not today when there’s a lot on the line.

‘Is that a bloody cake—’ Harry calls as he walks into their bedroom as she showers.

‘Did you peek at it!’

‘No, I followed the threatening note.’ He leans against the glass. ‘When did you manage to pick it up?’ He smiles widely.

‘When you were busy stretching,’ she leans back into the stream to wash off the suds from her shampoo. ‘And you’ve got to have a piece, none of that no sugar nonsense tonight.’ She warns. ‘Now close the door birthday boy, it was all steamy before you waltzed in.’

She shoos him away when he tries getting in on her shower. Ignored him shedding his clothes and arguing about how he needs to get clean too because she knows what he’s looking for. And she wants him to hold off until tonight, wants him needy for her touch.

‘I’ve got a whole month ahead of showering alone.’ He tries. ‘And m’the birthday boy.’ He has every intention of milking that until he can’t anymore.

‘M’not touching you though.’ She warns and he nods smugly getting in.

They take turns under the stream of water, she watches him and he watches her. He finds this so silly and he just needs to touch her. Because like he said, soon he won’t have her to touch.

So he finds a loophole.

‘Didn’t say I couldn’t touch you,’ he backs her into the glass that’s steamed over. ‘Gotta be more clear love.’ He lifts her arms, pins her wrists above her head. ‘There, keep ‘em there.’

‘You’re very spoiled you know that?’ She whispers. ‘Very greedy as well.’

‘Mmm,’ he hums kissing at her chin then down to her neck softly. ‘Love it when you name call.’ He looks up at her with grin from where he’s biting down on her neck. She isn’t amused.

‘M’gonna suck the life out of you in a few hours and you can’t hold off until then?’

He grins widely, shaking his head. ‘If you could see what I’m seeing now…’ He bites the wet skin of her chest, then grazes his teeth along each breast. ‘You’d already have your answer.’

She tries to ignore the way his wet body feels pressed against hers. His wet lips on her skin, the way water runs down his body and the way his hard cock is standing away from his body so beautifully and waiting for her.

‘It’s my fault then?’ She pants and he nods rapidly against her wet skin. She takes her hands down, in need of something to hold onto, his hair preferably as he sucks on her sensitive peaks. He bites down softly in response, she moans loudly as he brings her hands right back to where they should be.

‘You make me greedy.’ He presses his lips hard against hers. She moans against them whether she’d like to or not. He tugs at her bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it and going in for more. She knows what he’s about when he kisses like this. This type of kiss would only be appropriate here, with no one around. It’s hungry, desperate, and raw.

‘A terrible excuse.’ She whimpers as he hoists her up around his waist. But she forgets how bad it is when she feels his hard cock against her thighs.

It’s a few hours later when Harry’s laughter echoes through their home. They’re both cleaned up then, her in a dress and him in her favorite shirt of his. She smirks at how desperate he’ll be to get out of those black jeans when they become too tight.

She smiles wide too, at him laughing and smiling around his close group of friends. In addition to Harry, they all haven’t seen her for some time.

They know what they’re here for as well as his birthday. That makes her as settled as she can be in a situation like this one. It’s only a dozen of his closest friends. There could have been three times that and she’s wondering if he kept it intimate for her.

It isn’t a normal birthday activity like drinking games or karaoke but she knows their friends are the bunch to go along with this. And drinking games are only fun if you remember the rules and karaoke with Harry is quite pointless.

She rolls her eyes with her lips against the champagne flute when the longevity of her red lipstick is questioned, if it’d stay put during.  

It won’t, she’s already tested that. But she knows how much Harry likes that look on her, ruined and messy, might as well wear a sign that says she just blew him.

‘We’ll find out soon enough.’ She grins and Harry nearly chokes on his drink.

She’s having fun with this now.

And she doesn’t remember laughing this hard, maybe it’s because of the champagne, she hasn’t drank in a while. He’s got funny friends, funny just like him.

Sometimes she just likes watching. Loves watching his eyes light up when they all talk, about music especially. She likes watching him shy away when the upcoming Oscar’s are mentioned more specifically, his respected nomination. She also very much enjoyed watching him react to the endless phone calls and messages when the news had spread.

He didn’t know what to say anymore. Just kept saying thank you over and over again. He still can’t comprehend it either, but she made sure he knew very quickly that he was deserving of it. Because he did at some times, before bed wonder how this all happened. It happened because he’s brilliant at what he does and that’s that, is what she said and made him go to sleep. Because he is more than capable of letting these thoughts race through his head for hours and days.

Harry has his hand on her knee as they all eat. A habit of his he doesn’t even notice but she does.

She’s heard all of this teasing before about school and work. It’s understood and comes with the territory. Because if not them, Harry teases her about her never ending schooling.

‘Been five years now hasn’t it?’ They tease.

It certainly feels that way.

‘Close, three.’ She plays along.

‘Just until May right?’ Harry grins. He’s more ready than she is at this point.

She’s only got a bit more left. And when she’s throwing papers around, furiously typing and highlighting like mad woman he reminds her. Reminds her that in a few months time, she’ll graduate, all of this will be behind her and he’ll be there watching in the crowd. And he’s so looking forward to being in the crowd for once and cheering her on. That’s why they bought the house in Los Angeles, he wants them both in one place. Wants them to settle somewhere because he’s so very sure of her.

‘A proper scholar.’ He smirks.

Later when Harry busies himself with showing off the new but antique record player he got recently as a gift, she gets his cake ready.

She’s getting antsy now, she will admit. He told her when it’d be time. But she’s just waiting anxiously, guessing and on edge. She knows he’s thought of a proper time or maybe he hasn’t and he’s just going to surprise the both of them.

‘Fuck!’ She gasps. For someone as tall as him, with boots as heavy as his you’d think he wouldn’t be so good at sneaking up on people. But he is.

‘Been rock hard since you deep throated that banana this morning.’ He laughs into her shoulder.

‘Go,’ she fails at hiding a laugh as she takes the cake out from the fridge. She doesn’t need him peeking. He walks off looking back at her with a grin that takes up just about all of his face.  

Harry smiles shyly when his cake is brought out, with the right amount of candles, one for good luck and pretty sparklers as well. It’s odd really she notices, how he celebrates everyone but recoils when it’s his turn.

‘Make one with me.’ He pulls her onto his lap as the singing ends.

‘No it’s your wish.’ She struggles in his hold but he keeps her. ‘M’not gonna hijack your—’

‘I haven’t got one.’ He chuckles. He really can’t think of one. But if she’s got one than it’s his as well.

‘He hasn’t got any left, he’s already getting his.’ She hears and tries not to laugh as everyone else does.

But she thinks properly about a wish, looks at him and thinks really hard. Not wanting to waste it. But the wish that comes to her is quite simple really.

‘Ok, I’ve thought of one.’ She says.

‘Go on then.’ He kisses her cheek. ‘On three.’

He counts for them, until three. She notices that boyish grin on him that she’s seen in so many childhood pictures of his. He looks the same now, blowing out his birthday candles just how he did when he was a child. The candles all go out together, and the sparklers die down soon after.

‘Happy Birthday.’ She kisses his cheek, his dimples deep as ever as she traces them before kissing him sweetly.

It’s fun watching him eat cake, he hardly ever touches that stuff. That’s why she got him his favorite. He wasn’t going to have a birthday without a birthday cake, she’d made that clear.

She’s permanently smiling now. She surprises herself each time, with how obsessed she is with him. How warm she feels watching him, how content and comfortable he is. ‘Is it good?’ She asks wiping the frosting from his lips and he nods before kissing her back. He gets goosebumps from her too, really he does.

Harry nearly tries to avoid the toasts dedicated to him but everyone insists and so does she. She doesn’t let him move. They’ve moved to the sitting room, much more comfortable and spacious as everyone goes around in their turns saying something about him.

‘…and m’really lucky to have you.’ She grins and everyone’s glasses clink and he smiles widely pulling her back onto his lap. She traces her finger over his dimples again that have gone so deep from smiling so wide and laughing so hard.

Harry can’t think properly sometimes when it comes to her. How he’s managed to find someone who feels so lucky to have him and he feels equally the same about her. He really does feel so lucky.

Not just because she rubs his back when it’s feeling achey. And it’s not just because she puts up with his sleep restlessness, his sleep mumbles and soft snores. And it’s not even because she’s willing to blow him in front of his friends.

‘Do you want to show them love,’ he asks her softly. ‘How lucky I am?’ She nods subtly against his neck,  ‘How good you are?’ She nods again and he kisses her forehead softly. She’d be nervous if she wasn’t this aroused. She’s been picturing this moment for quite some time now, getting hot at the thought so she’s running on adrenaline and her own arousal now. ‘Go on angel, on those knees.’ He encourages her before finishing what’s left of his drink.

She gets off his lap as he keeps his eyes on her. The look in his eyes reassuring, trusting and reading hers. Checking or waiting to see if maybe she changes her mind. She hasn’t.

She thinks she wants this just as much as he does now. Her heart racing as she finds her place on her knees between his legs. This bit here isn’t different or new, she’s done this many times over just not for more sets of eyes. But for now, there isn’t anyone else in the room. She’ll get used to the idea once she gets started she thinks.

She laces her fingers over his belt, unbuckling it slowly. Harry doesn’t know why just that is painfully erotic but it is. Now especially, he’s sensitive to everything she does. He’s been this way the entire day, wired, tense and knowing. He sets his glass down to help her with the buttons of his dress shirt as she pulls it out from his painfully tight jeans.

He was right, he is rock hard. He’s always ready for her and in turn her mouth starts watering at one of her favorite sights. He hisses before she even gets her hands or mouth on him, just from the loss of the constrained fabric. The tightness of his jeans unbearable when he gets this hard for her.

Harry knows they’re all looking at her, that was the point of all of this. He’s looking at her too. She only remembers that she’s being watched, that she’s the show when she hears drinks being tipped back around her.

She wants to feel him first, get him even harder than he is now. She wants him to start leaking out, she wants to see those first few drops ooze from him from his now red and needy head.

So she brushes the tip of her finger across him, across that mouthwatering vein that wraps around his thick length. She exhales slowly, feeling herself getting wetter every cruel second that passes by. She admires him as she continues up just below his tip to where she knows he he gets fidgety and squirmy from her touch.

He inhales sharply when her fingers graze over him, she knows right where. Her eyes stay on his as she wraps her hand around the length of him. The skin of him is soft despite the hardness, he glides under the skin of her palm. He’s a pretty color too, pink and blushed, red and waiting at the tip.

She pushes her hair back behind her shoulders as they sit with their elbows on their knees, getting comfortable watching her.

‘Pretty girl, it’s all for you, all yours.’ He says and she nods as he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.  

He groans softly, almost painfully when she slides her thumb over the tip of him. He’s already breathing heavy when he watches her bring her lips to the wet and extremely sensitive tip of him. She wants to taste the first few drops, she’s missed the taste.

‘Go on Angel, suck on me.’ He says grazing his thumb across her jaw line, calming her.

He stops breathing for a second there when she does, when she sucks around the head of him as her fingers trace down lazily but with purpose over his balls.

She doesn’t think about stoping either. Thinks about nothing else but opening wide for him. She calms when her lips glide down the base of him. Her breathing controlled and slowing as she manages him further.

‘There’s my good girl, fuck—there she is.’

He isn’t easy to get down, her lips have to stretch around the thickness of him and the length of him is a job getting as deep as she possibly can. But she’s learned over time, how to get him down further, stimulate all of him. How to make him make those noises, make that face…the face she has to try hard not to think about when she’s out and about.

Harry lets out a winded exhale as her throat closes around the tip of him. Her throat closing around his throbbing cock startles and awes him. How has she managed to take him down that deep—and that fast.

‘Love—’ He doesn’t know what she’s doing or how the fuck she’s managing to take him so deep but he’s losing it. He can’t be this close this early. ‘Shit!—’

She stills, breathes slowly before taking more of him down.

He grunts loudly as his knuckles turn as white as a sheet from the tight hold they have at her hair. He’s, whether he consciously knows it or not, guiding her onto him. Getting her on him and she’s taking it. She’s taking him so good and he’s nearly shaking.

‘Christ! Are you even breathing!’ He hisses. He’s genuinely worried for her but she looks up at him, settles him with her shiny eyes that spur him further. He can’t stop looking at her. He can’t stop looking at her mouth then down to her throat where he’s sure he is.

She hears the whispered curses of his friends and that only spurs her further. To pull off of him, pull her lips back only to take him back to the same deep place he’d been.

‘Fuck me,’ he groans as he looks down at her. The sight of this alone, her wet lips gliding over him, her cheeks hollowing when she takes him back down…her tongue licking over his slit…the sight of all of those, he’s sure could get him off. He knew this would be filthy he just didn’t think it’d look this filthy.

‘Maybe next time,’ she smiles up at him while running her tongue back over his slit. He chuckles softly, slightly out of breath as his friends do the same. She’s sure he’ll be bringing up that after a drunken night out soon. About fucking her in front of people. But for now she’s gliding her tongue back and forth over his slit tortuously slow as he fists her hair tighter at the thought of that too, being watched.

He doesn’t think he can do it, doesn’t think she can handle it either. But his hips lift up towards her mouth, with a mind of their own as she takes him down again. She does that purely unfair thing where once he gets visibly tenser, groans louder she pulls off of him to lick at his head. But then she hollows out her cheeks ready to take him all in again. She does that three times and it takes him just the second time to understand what she’s doing. She’s teasing him, edging him painfully.

He can’t properly punish her for it now, they aren’t at that point of comfort where he could spank her and discipline her in front of others as well.

‘Please,’ she looks up at him. She takes his hand from the back of her neck to tangle into her hair. ‘Just like you would my cunt.’

He sighs deeply at her word choice. He’ll scold her for that later.

He knows how much she likes this, having him fuck into her mouth. He knows what she’s asking for, the type of thrusts into her mouth she’s looking for. As if it was her cunt.

So he tightens his hold on her hair, fists a good bit of it around his hand as he guides her back down on him, pulling her back and forth across him. She moans as he keeps tugging on her hair as he rocks into her mouth. The one he swears was crafted and sent by the gods themselves.

He’s thrusting his hips forward on purpose now, and not just because it’s uncontrollable. But because she asked.  

‘Look at you.’ He says in amazement. His stomach stirs and tightens just looking down at her. ‘Taking me down so nicely.’ He praises and she’s driven by it.

She holds tightly to his knee, leveraging it to get him deeper with every push of his passed her lips. Her dress has ridden up some to the top of her thigh, she knows so. And she enjoys the different sets of eyes watching.  

Their sitting room, where they watch films and argue about triple word scores during scrabble is now filled with the filthiest sound they’ve ever heard. Wet, sloppy and whispered curses.

The sound she’s letting out with his cock that deep in her mouth is lethal to him. She’s letting out a mixture of content hums, like he’s a sweet ice lolly and moaning whimpers when he slips passed her lips down to her throat.

‘All mine aren’t you Princess?’ He tugs at her hair, making her look up at him and she manages a nod. ‘All mine.’

She hears ice cubes rattle in glasses as they’re tipped back by their friends as they lean closer to watch. They didn’t know what to expect from this either but this feels so filthy and sinful it’s captivating.

She braves it, looks to the right of her to watch them all watch her. Her stomach tightens, her body tenses as she feels herself pool in her panties. Her eyes catch their blow out ones, one by one as her lips slide up and down slowly. Their gaze shifts from her eyes down to what she’s doing with her mouth.

‘Watching them watch you Princess?’ He asks.

It’s not daunting anymore. How she’s there to be watched. Because he was right, right about it all. How much she likes this now. How it all makes her feel, like the main attraction, like a proper show piece.

'Do you like being watched love?’ He asks stroking her hollowed cheek as he watches her watch them. ‘Putting on a nice show for everyone?’

She nods softly, bobbing on him. If only she knew how she looked right now. He won’t be able to get this picture out of his head ever, it’ll run through his head like a movie. He’ll be doing nothing, sitting in a meeting and this right now will dawn on him and he’ll feel so filthy at the memory. How willing she is right now, how determined and the way her cheeks go pink every time she hears someone curse whilst watching her take him in deep again and again.

He can’t wrap his head around it nor is he even trying to. How her lips are gliding over him, matching his rocking thrusts. Her full lips redder and puffier now, glistening wet wrapping around him from the tip of him until her throat closes around it.

‘Look here Angel,’ he brings her back to him with his thumb at her chin.

Her jaw is slowly starting to ache now, but in the type of way that makes her want to keep testing herself. How much she can take of him and for how much longer. She’s the one who decided on her own that tonight she’d manage to get him that deep and deeper each time she pulls her lips back over him. So she keeps going, she needs to.

‘That’s it,’ he groans. ‘Right fuckin there.’ He praises.

She tightens her lips around him, making this all the more torturous for him. She wants, needs him to come now. She’s been torturing herself with this thought for weeks. Him spilling into her mouth for people to watch. She’s desperate for it now just like he is.

So she presses her lips tighter, mimicking just how her cunt tightens around him. And he’s familiar with this tactic of hers. She can tell he remembers by how tightly he suddenly clutches and tugs at the hair at the crown of her head. He can’t get the thought out of his head now, her mouth and her cunt and just how warm and wet they both are. He’s close, much too close to come back from that now.

‘Eyes on me love, want to see you when I spill into your pretty mouth.’ He pants. His eyes seem to be watering too, just as blown out and wet as hers now as she keeps sucking him. ‘Fucking Christ—Angel!’ He groans.

Before he realizes it either, and with a tight fist at her hair he’s coming down her throat. His head falls back, as he groans and his chest heaving. She moans around him, thankful and needy for it. His harsh grip on her hair only tightens and she’s moaning at that too. The vibrations of her mouth jolting him further, emptying all of him between her lips. It’s a lot, more than she’s used to but she’s taking it all down. His stomach tightens and releases as she sucks everything from him. He’s nearly whimpering by then as she keeps sucking him until she’s sure she got everything and lets him fall from her lips.

She wouldn’t have known what to do then if he hadn’t pulled her back up to him. She’s breathless too as he pulls her back to sit on his lap. He nearly groans at the sight of her. Some of his release had ended up on her bottom lip when she got her lips off of him.

‘Was that good?’ She asks quietly and he nods still speechless and amazed as he wipes his thumb across her bottom lip. Lets her suck what’s left off of it. He kisses her hard then, he wants her now, to himself this time. She can tell, he’s kissing her like he always does when he has to have her. Just like he did this afternoon in the shower that was supposed to be a shower for one. She pulls back, seemingly telling him ‘later’ with her eyes and he understands.

‘Didn’t see you guys there.’ She grins turning her head away from him. ‘How much of that did you guys see?’ She asks. Harry laughs with them as he kisses her forehead.

Harry’s made to open some of his gifts even though he hates getting gifts. Except for the one he got a few minutes prior. He doesn’t hate the blender either.

She isn’t done yet. She knows he’s taken the next week off for his birthday but he didn’t plan anything for the week. He wanted the exact opposite of planned. But it’s much too cold in London, Harry could use a holiday and she won’t refuse one either. It isn’t a lads holiday in Jamaica but it’ll be theirs.

She watches him contently as he laughs at the silly cards, laying her head against him as she hears laughter erupt from him, his chest vibrating.  

It’s hard to get him something, because if he wanted it he’d get it. Which is why the biggest tip she gives everyone about her boy is get him something he can’t buy at a shop. Make him something. Harry much prefers things like that.

It’s a quarter passed twelve when things die down.

Even considering all that had happened not an hour ago, she still flushes when they’re thanked for the the ‘dinner and the show.’

She downs the last of her champagne before putting what’s left of the cake in the fridge. Harry will pick away at it despite his great restraint against sugar. And she certainly doesn’t see why it can’t be their breakfast tomorrow.

She jumps for the second time that night when she feels his arms wrap around her waist. ‘Genuinely thought you were gonna choke on me.’ He shakes his head recounting the event. ‘Got worried—’

‘Wanted to surprise you.’ She grins. ‘Birthdays call for surprises.’

‘You’re dripping.’ He guesses, chuckling against her neck.

‘For a while.’ She shudders when he kisses up the back of her neck.

‘Yeah?’ He grins. 'Being watched made you that wet?’

She nods, it really did. ‘Thought about touching myself while I had you in my mouth but I wouldn’t have heard the end of it from you if I had.’

‘You’re so disciplined.’ He bites into her shoulder. ‘So well behaved.’ He wraps his hands around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder. ‘Taught you well.’

He’s been needing her all night, wanted to be close to her, properly tangled into her. But he takes all that he said back when he feels her bare bum as her dress rides up.  

‘Take everything I said back.’ He shakes his head swatting at the bare skin. He’s got easy access from how he’s carrying her and her dress has already folded up to her waist.

‘Was just gonna soak them anyway!’ She yelps. She’s getting wetter now too, always does when he spanks her.

‘Thought you were my little angel,’ he spanks her again and then another. ‘Was gonna reward you for it.’

‘Fuck—Harry.’ She cries. ‘Your mum’s gonna wonder why I won’t be able to sit properly tomorrow!’  

He laughs as he gets to the top of the stairs. He hadn’t thought about that, usually enjoys watching her struggle to put jeans on or sit like she said. He still gets an earful about that one time she couldn’t put her bathing suit on because there were visible hand prints all over her bum and she couldn’t go swimming properly without her cheeks getting as red as her other ones.

‘What’d you use my wish for?’ He throws her onto their bed.

‘That I’d be able to take you that deep,’ she pushes the hair from her face. She’s properly needy now, soaking between her thighs and panting.


‘No,’ she scoffs. ‘Wished for you to be happy always.’

’S’abit boring.’ He smiles hovering over her.

‘Sorry.’ She grins.

‘Did you mean what you said?’ He asks.

‘About what?’

‘Bout being fucked and watched.’ He bends her leg so he can get her shoes off for her one by one.

‘I don’t know.’ She shrugs as her heels fall to the floor.

‘Don’t hide on me now.’ He finds the side zipper of her dress before zipping it down.

‘M’not hiding anything.’ She pulls down the straps of her dress so he can tug it off of her. She kicks the fabric off and that too falls to the floor.

‘Are too.’

‘I just….’ she starts.

‘C’mon, spit it out.’ He teases and she glares. ‘Finish the sentence.’ He grins widely.

‘I like being watched.’ She admits, looking back up at him after getting his jeans down.

‘You did put on quite the show this evening.’ He kisses her.

’S’not like I don’t enjoy taking you down my throat, got a really good looking cock.’ She grins.

‘You’d let me to fuck you in front of people?’


‘Christ—’ He nearly wheezes into her neck. ‘Where has that been hiding?’ He mumbles into the warm skin.

‘In a sock drawer, what do you mean hiding—’

‘You didn’t tell me that bit! I thought I knew all of your—’

‘What was I supposed to say about it? S’not like it can easily be accomplished or arranged? ‘How would—’

‘There are places.’


‘Places for that.’

‘You’d let someone else watch me come?’ She asks already knowing the answer. He thinks on that for a moment. He did say that at some point. How he wouldn’t ever share that with anyone. ‘Didn’t think so.’ She laughs.

‘Don’t think I’ll ever like the idea of someone else knowing how you look like when you come—’

‘I know.’

‘Let me look into it,’ he thumbs over her bottom lip. ‘Gotta think about it.’

‘Alright one step at a time,’ she laughs. ‘Can’t do everything all at once.’

He nods, agreeing with her as he hovers back over her, kissing her again. His mind is doing so much at once. He’s overwhelmed really. By her and all that she is and that she’s a part of his life, a good chunk of it. He thinks he’d really like to spend the rest of his birthdays with her and not just because she’s generous with gifts.

‘Happy Birthday,’ she smiles. ‘And I do really hope you’re happy always.’

It was a good wish to wish.

‘M’really in love with you, s’disgusting.’ He wraps her leg around him tighter.

‘Mmm that’s nice,’ she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

‘Actually can’t see my life without you, can’t go an hour without thinking about you.’

‘That is disgusting.’ She agrees and he nods. His fingers have trailed down to her wet folds, gathering the wetness that had been waiting there for him.

She exhales into his neck, shuddering at the contact, finally. She whimpers when he tastes her from his fingers, widens her eyes at him when he moans in satisfaction. She’s properly needy now, stirring underneath him, looking in between them for his nearing cock impatiently. He kisses her then roughly, wet lips meeting, making her taste herself. Just like she did for him.

‘Spend good chunks of time thinking about marrying you, mother of my children, all that gross stuff.’ He says quietly guiding himself to her wet slit.

‘Really?’ She shakes slightly. ‘And you don’t get ill thinking about all that?’ She whimpers against his lips when the head of him stretches her.

‘No,’ he shakes his head, bringing her hand to lay beside her head so he can lock his with hers. ‘Just really happy.’ He pushes into her.

cerolum  asked:

Klance, in the elevator/pool. But because Lance is half naked, Keith can see the scars on his back from the explosion incident in the castle. It's too cute the idea of Keith worrying about Lance to miss the opportunity. THANKS!

The scene we all deserved to see in canon. Hope you enjoy!

           “Look, you stay on one side of the pool, and I’ll stay on the other, and we’ll be far, far away from each other. Very. Far. Away,” Keith said. He was exhausted, his patience frayed so thin that Lance’s mere presence felt like a pebble in his shoe, incessantly annoying. Couldn’t he get more than five minutes alone on this ship? Was that really too much to ask?

           Before Lance got a chance to answer, the elevator shuddered and stopped moving. Both of them glanced up in confusion, and then, even worse, the lights blinked out. Lance and Keith looked sideways at each other in the dark and groaned in unison. For a moment neither of them moved, and then Lance took the initiative to bang on the doors.

           “Hunk! Allura! Shiro! Pidge, Coran, anybody?” he called, fist pounding against the door. “Helloooooooooooooooooooo?”

           “They could be anywhere in the castle. They probably can’t hear us,” Keith said. Lance groaned again, even louder, and Keith heard him thump to the floor.

           “This couldn’t have happened ten seconds later?” he yelled.

           “Would you calm down?” Keith snapped.

           “Sure. I’m on a half broken alien spaceship being chased through the universe by a 10,000-year-old emperor of evil, and I just stuck in the elevator. With you.” Lance spat the last out so bitterly that Keith paused. He heard a sigh. “I just wanted to float on my back in the pool in a little peace and quiet, okay?”

           “We all want a break,” Keith snapped, running his fingers along the buttons, hoping for anything that felt like a call button or an emergency light, but there was nothing. He walked into Lance’s seated form trying to get close to the door and heard him grunt and shuffle out of the way. Reaching over him, he tried to get enough purchase on the doors to pry them open, but the slit was far too thin. He couldn’t get his fingers into the gap. He stepped back, frowning.

           “What about the roof?” Lance asked from the floor. From the sound of it, his face was pressed against his knees.

           “What do you mean?”

           “I think there’s an emergency hatch,” he said.

           “I’ll need a boost,” Keith said. Fumbling blindly, he found Lance’s arm, then his hand, and pulled him back to his feet. “Don’t hit me against the ceiling,” he warned.

           “Yeah, yeah,” Lance said. “Here–” After a few awkward moments as the two of them struggled to get into position, communicating with shoves and pulls, eventually Lance managed to hoist Keith precariously onto his shoulders. He stood upright slowly, leaving Keith time to find the ceiling. He had to lean back to avoid crashing into it with his head, making Lance stumble and almost throw them both to the ground, which elicited another round of cussing and snapping at each other until they stabilized. Running his hands across the ceiling, he found something that felt like a handle. It twisted easily enough, but was stuck as he tried to push it up, struggling and pushing against it with as much strength as he had at such an awkward angle. It released suddenly, popping out so quickly that it knocked Lance and Keith off balance and they tumbled to the floor, Lance smacking his head against Keith’s knee as he went. The castle’s typical pale blue and white light flooded into the elevator as both of them lay there groaning. Keith was half-sitting, leaning against the wall, while Lance was face down on the floor, rubbing at his head. Something on Lance’s back caught his eye and Keith frowned.

           There were thin lines of raised skin like an ugly starburst radiating from a point just below his shoulder blade. Whatever had made that scar, Lance was lucky it hadn’t killed or crippled him. Two inches to the right and it would have hit directly on his spine.

           “What’s that from?” Keith asked, gesturing at his back. Lance raised his head slightly, and seeing where Keith was pointing, craned his head over his shoulder.

           “Oh, this?” he asked, reaching his right arm across to point at the scar. His finger just barely reached the edge of the starburst, brushing against the thinnest and faintest lines. Keith nodded. “That’s from the explosion, you know, when Sendak was here? And we supposedly had our ‘bonding moment.’” Keith ignored the last bit, reaching out unconsciously and brushing his fingers lightly over the top of the scar. Lance stared at him. “Uh, Keith…”

           “I didn’t realize it was so close.” He withdrew his hand, eyes fixed on the curve of Lance’s spine. “It could have killed you.”

           “They gave it a try,” Lance grinned, but his smile faltered as Keith’s expression didn’t change. “Hey, it all worked out fine,” he said, pushing himself back to sitting and hiding the scar from Keith’s view. “Hunk and Coran got a new Balmera, Pidge and the mice kicked Sendak’s ass, and you cradled me in your arms or whatever, and we were all fine.” He smiled uncertainly at Keith. “They won’t take me out quite that easily.” Keith finally looked up and met his eyes, bright with confidence and life.

           “Yeah, takes more than an explosion and an invasion by an alien army to keep us down,” he answered, managing to return the smile. Lance’s smile grew into a grin in response, and he held out his hand for Keith to grab. They pulled each other to their feet and looked up the long, smooth elevator shaft. “So… now we have to figure out how to get out of here,” Keith said. Lance pursed his lips, considering, until suddenly his eyes lit up in a way Keith did not like at all. He turned to face Keith with a sly look on his face.

           “Did you ever see that old kids’ film, The Emperor’s New Groove?”

Send me a prompt!

Dipped in Ink (Namjoon/Reader)

Prompt: REQUEST COMING THROUGH! Idk if you know what a stick and poke tattoo is, but I was wondering if I could have one with Joon where he gives the reader a stick and poke tattoo? I know he’s pretty clumsy but I feel like doing something like that for someone who he loves he’d be super careful. (if not pick any other member i’m cool with all my boys). I just think it’d be something sort of intimate cos it kinda hurts. and then maybe it could lead to some sexy times? THANKS LUV U

Genre: Smut

Words: 4K+

Author: Admin Kaycie

Summary: “You know,” He began carefully, voice lowering as he leaned back over your body, pushing the needle into your flesh again slowly. “I’ve heard that for some pain can be an aphrodisiac…”

Tags: Mentions of Tattooing (needles, blood, etc.), Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation, Daddy!Joon, Baby Girl, etc. 

Please note, I am no expert in the art of anything tattoo related, so please do not try to be rude if I messed up any of the details as far as that goes.

Originally posted by rapnamu

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Good Morning // Min Yoongi


the prompt: Can I request something really fluffy with BTS Suga? With kisses and forehead touches please! Thank you!!

words: 1009

category: fluffy fluff~

author note: this is full of fluff on fluff so please enjoy! (also, there is a huge thunderstorm outside of my house and it’s so loud haha)

- destinee

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sweetobjecttriumph  asked:

College AU. Oliver is on the baseball team and needs Felicity to tutor him to stay on the team. Or established Olicity watching baseball and Felicity is feeling frisky and distracting Oliver from the game.

(Went with the first idea–thanks!)

Only an ungrateful douchebag would throw his equipment around.  But after that meeting with his coach, Oliver Queen was ready to start throwing bats.

Why did it matter if he was flunking his computer science class?  He didn’t even know why he had registered for it in the first place.  He was a ballplayer and wouldn’t ever need computers to do his job.  Because when he got to the majors, there would be interns to do all the computery stuff for him.  

But if he didn’t pass his class with at least a C, he would be benched.  And with the draft coming up soon, he needed all the playing time he could get.  

So … he would meet this tutor that the coach had set up for him, and he’d find some way to get the damn C, and then he was gonna get drafted and go pro and be done with college.  A year was more than enough.

His hair still wet from his post-practice shower, wearing jeans and one of his jerseys, Oliver walked into the library with his backpack.  His tutor was going to meet him here–some nerd named Felicity.  Man, it was like she was destined to be a nerd with a name like that.  

“Oliver Queen?”

The voice was soft and feminine, making Oliver’s mouth quirk up.  Maybe he had gotten lucky?

“That’s what the name on my jersey says,” he began, turning to face his tutor.  Only he had to immediately look lower by about six inches, since Felicity barely came up to his shoulder.  And his hopes were quickly dashed when he took her in.  A sweater vest?  Glasses?  Couldn’t Coach have gotten him a girl who was actually pretty?  Although maybe he was worried about Oliver being distracted–or seducing his tutor.  

Well, no danger of that here.  On either score.  

She held her hand out to him.  “Felicity Smoak, your comp sci tutor.  Do you have a computer with you?”

“No …” he said slowly.

“How did you expect to work on assignments for a computer science class without a computer?” Felicity asked, a disapproving note in her voice.  

He shrugged and she rolled her eyes.  “Great.  I guess we’re going to the computer lab.  Follow me–I’m sure with all the work you’ve done taking care of your bat, you’ve never even been inside the library.”

Was she … ?  Oliver shook his head and stared after the sarcastic little blonde.  He hadn’t expected her to come out with an innuendo like that–especially not one that doubled as an insult.  With his long legs, he easily caught up with her.  

“So what’s your deal?”

She eyed him without really looking at him.  “My deal?  I have to tutor guys like you in order to afford eating and having a roof over my head.  When it’s someone who’s really struggling, I actually enjoy tutoring.  Getting to help someone improve, seeing them get more confident about the material.  But someone who just doesn’t care?  Excuse me for not thinking that’s cool.”

“It’s not like that …” he said, not even sure why he was protesting.  

“So what is it like?”

Oliver looked down at the tiny annoying thing, how her hands were on her hips and her chin was jutting out.  This Felicity wasn’t like anyone he had ever met before.

“I want to go pro.  So I need to play.  And to play, I need to pass this comp sci class.  So … give me a hand and help me pass the damn class, and then I’ll be out of your hair and you’ll never have to deal with me again,” Oliver said.

Her lips pouted a little, her face thoughtful.  Oliver had a fleeting through that her lips looked very kissable, but he shook it off as he waited for her answer.  

“Okay, I guess,” she said grudgingly.  “But next time, you need to bring a computer, okay?  I mean, would you show up to a game without your glove?  It’s the same thing.”

“That makes sense,” he admitted.  “Okay, I’ll bring it.  But for now, can we get started?  I’m really behind.”  

Something about him saying he needed her help made her face soften.  “Yeah, all right.  Let’s get to the lab so I can see how to help.”

Nodding, Oliver followed her the rest of the way, adjusting his backpack.


When he left the lecture hall on the day of the final, Oliver looked around the quad, searching for the only person he wanted to see right now.  

A slow smile grew when he spotted Felicity, tapping away at a tablet and squinting.  With how smart she was, she had finished their comp sci final well before him, but he had known she would wait for him.  The sunshine fell over her, bringing out her hair and making her the brightest thing he had ever seen.  

Over the course of the semester, Oliver had gotten to see beyond her tart tongue and feisty attitude, to the brilliant, tender, caring girl underneath.  The girl who had gotten hurt and had developed a mask to protect herself.  

The girl who had totally changed his own attitude and approach.  The girl who had opened his eyes to so many things.  The girl he had fallen for.  

“Felicity!” he called out, hurrying towards her.

She looked up and a huge smile appeared on her face.  “Oliver!” she said, waving to him.  “How did it go?” she asked as he approached.  

Instead of answering her, Oliver wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet in an all-encompassing, swing-in-a-circle hug, just like in a movie.

“Pass or fail, it doesn’t matter,” he said softly into her ear.  “Because meeting you is the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Oliver,” she said, pushing at him.  He stopped moving and loosened his grip enough for her to be able to look at him.  “I know you passed, with how hard you worked.  And now, you’ll be able to play and make a good impression on the scouts and get drafted number one.”  

Hesitantly, he reached out and stroked her cheek.  “I’m not going to be the number one pick.”  

Slowly, she licked her lips.  “You are to me.”

“Felicity,” he breathed out, just before he kissed her.  

It turned out that Felicity was right on both counts.  He did pass and he did get drafted number one.  He missed what would have been his third major league game in order to see Felicity graduate.  And then, six years later, he missed his nine hundredth game in order to graduate himself.

And cheering as loud as she did whenever she watched him play was Felicity.  His wife.


Snog Me Senseless 4

A/N:  So this was supposed to be a one shot about kissing, but then it became so much more.  Thanks to @team-styles for the teamwork between author and reader.  Thanks, as always, to @little-black-dress-24, for the encouragement and for forcing me to have the courage to tell this story.  I am so grateful to @melissas173, @niallandharrymakemestrong, and @emulateharry for their amazing suggestions and ideas.  

For Soap, my tumblr little sis.  I hope this one doesn’t embarrass you too much.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

As soon as you hear the sounds of the other boys in the fraternity house stirring, you move to get dressed in your clothes from the night before.  Harry, being the thoughtful boyfriend he has proven himself to be, clears the hallway so that you can use the restroom.  And even though you wrinkle your nose at the smell of the place, and even though you are stunned at the amount of shaved whiskers in the sinks, and even though the room is as close to a garbage dump as you have ever seen; you still glide in with confidence because you know your boyfriend is guarding the entrance.  You take care of your needs quickly, washing your face clean of any makeup and sliding into your clothes from the night before.  You finger-brush your hair, hoping that no one really notices that you’re wearing the same clothes.  Then again, you’ve never done a walk of shame, and you’re strangely excited at the prospect.    

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5, 6, Grab Your Crucifix

Characters/Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader, little bit of OMC Glen x Reader

Word Count: 6676 (side-eyes myself)

Warnings: OK, here goes…language, drinking, possessiveness, violence, biting, rough sex, marking/claiming sex, non-con voyeurism, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (pretend there’s a pill or something of that sort in use)…If I missed something, let me know

A/N: Alright, well, here is my late submission for @roxy-davenport‘s birthday writing challenge. I had the prompts: Demon!Dean, Claiming sex, Nightmare on Elm Street, and the quote “Aren’t you precious?” I had a lot of fun with this one, and went more for the dickish Demon!Dean than evil. Much love and thanks to @kayteonline and @ilsawasanacrobat for the beta work and read-throughs and encouragement! You both rock!!

Hope you enjoy it. Please note the warnings. Feedback and constructive criticism are amazing things, please give them to me.

Originally posted by zest-wincest

Year after year, the reason changed, and at first, you meant it. Bartending was supposed to be temporary. Just something to fill your free nights and get some extra cash in your pocket. Now, though, if you were honest, you kept at it because you really enjoyed it. All of it - the fast pace, the free entertainment, and sometimes the company.

Flirting came with the job. The sex? That was where you had to be careful. You didn’t need any overzealous clingy partners hanging around, so you were fairly cautious and discrete, enjoyed more casual flings as they came and went.

Your current FWB, Glen, sat at the end of the bar, out of the way, but close enough that you could still talk and flirt as you worked.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you teased, making up another drink for him.

“Not yet,” he answered with a quick up-down of his eyebrows, making you roll your head back in mock disgust.

“You’re so fucking lame.” You threw a coaster at him and went back to work, flicking off bottle caps and pouring mixers as the bar began to fill. You were scanning the crowd, keeping an eye out for your regulars and anyone looking to flag you down for another drink when you caught sight of him. With that gorgeous face you’d have to struggle to forget, he sat casually at the middle of the bar. He already had a glass in front of him and you wondered how you’d missed him earlier. If you weren’t already warm and flushed from the rush of work, the look he was sending your way would have done it.

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Prompt: You find out that you’re pregnant with George Washington’s baby.

Pair: George Washington x Reader

A/N: This was a request from an anon. Ask and you shall receive. I actually really enjoyed writing this prompt. I hope you guys love it as much as I did! Remember my requests are always open. Enjoy :)

Surprise - Part 2

Originally posted by alexanderlafayette


You roll over in bed and you arm smacks down on a hard chest beside you, pulling a loud groan from him. Without opening your eyes, you smile to yourself and roll over all the way on your side and snuggle up into the man beside you. His arms wrap around you immediately and pull you in closer. You wiggle and wiggle trying to snuggle even closer and find a comfortable spot.

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Belle x Reader #1

Prompt: Having had had a rather huge crush on Belle for a while now, you often visit the library just to see her.

Originally posted by despairingfever

You grabbed a dusty book off a random shelf, peering around to make sure you had not lost your sights on the beautiful brunette sitting on one of the only two tables in the small book room.

Indeed, Belle was still sitting there, right where she had been for the past few hours, eagerly engrossed in a, rather thick book.

You furrowed your brows and glanced down at the book in your hands. How did she do it? How could she stand sitting there for count less hours with a smile on her face?

You had tried, for several months now, to read and learn so you could have something to approach Belle about to no avail. Of course, Belle is extremely intelligent… s'why she’s such an odd ball of a lady around here…

You hadn’t noticed the brunette get up from the desk as you turned your book this way and that, trying to find a way to understand the mysterious language written in its pages.

You heard a soft giggle behind you and your turned around abruptly, your heart fluttering and beating against your chest as your eyes met amused chocolate ones.

“Oh- uh, hello, Madam Belle,” you greeted, waving awkwardly.

Bloody hell. That was embarrassing. Way to go, [Y/n].

Your blood froze and your brain short circuited when she smiled at you shyly. “Pardon me if it is not my place to ask but, do you need help with something?” She asked kindly.

You raised a brow, scratching the back of your head in a very un-ladylike way. “Oh- er, uh… um… why do you ask?”

Belle giggled and shook her head, her eyes dancing with mirth. Gods, she’s adorable.

She motioned toward the book in your hand, “You seem to be struggling with something involving your book,” she explained.

“Er, yeah. About that… I’ve been having a bit of a problem…” You lied, your cheeks glowing under her undivided attention.

Belle placed her book on top of the counter and moved closer to you, her brows furrowing in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Uhhhh… I can’t read,” you blurted nervously.

Your cheeks flamed and you looked down at the carpeted floor, wishing the ground could swallow you whole.

“Oh! Don’t be ashamed! I could help you if you want,” she replied excitedly at once. Finally another adult to speak with who won’t see me as odd, she thought to herself.

You knew that she typically taught children to read, specifically young girls since they were the ones who were never allowed to go to school, but somehow the thought of spending so much time with Belle despite having had been wanting to approach her since forever now seemed terrifying.

Apparently you stayed silent for a bit too long.

Belle’s face fell at your prolonged quiteness. “It’s alright if you don’t want to,” she mumbled quietly, wringing her hands together uncharacteristically.

You felt your heart clench at the barely concealed disappointment in her tone.

“N- no!-”

“No?” Belle asked, her face falling even more.

“Ms.Belle that’s not what I meant. I meant ‘no’ is in 'no, I do want you to teach me’. Only if you’re up to it of course, I mean… I’d understand if you were too busy or- well, I am a woman. I might no be able to learn-”

“[Y/n]!” Belle gasped, sounding scandalized.

You looked at her in alarm. “Wha- I mean yes?”

“You can learn to read and write just as any man can!”

“Thank you, but really think it just might take too long-”

“Nonsense!” She said passionately. “You can learn easily if you just put your mind to it, and I’ll prove it to you! I’ll teach you, [Y/n]!” Belle grinned brightly, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward one of the tables before you could respond.

You gaped, surprised at the sudden turn of events and the fuzzy feeling that went through your arm at her touch and sat down wearily next to her.

You watched in rapt fascination as Belle recited every single word from the page without even pausing to study it.

You were leaning against the desk, your head in your hand which was propped up on your elbow. Your eyes glistened as you watched adoringly the way puffy pink lips moved over each syllable and your body shivered in response to her smooth voice.

You were just staring at her freckles, a light dusting on her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose when you felt her tapping your shoulder gently.

You shook yourself from your daze and looked at her apologetically. She merely shook her head in amusement and gave you a knowing smile before repeating her question.

“I said 'What letter is this?’” She pointed at a small phrase at the top of the page and looked up at you encouragingly. You blinked, and leaned over the book to look at the weird shape.

“Uh… is it a… a… 'c’?” You asked, feeling dumb.

Instead of answering Belle simply gave you a charming smile (it nearly made you collapse because it was so beautiful) and nodded, sliding her finger under the next letter.

“Er… is that a…,” you scrunched up your nose in concentration and Belle bit her lip, trying to mask the look of pure fondness that flickered across her face at your expression with indifference.

You stayed silent for a moment, not noticing her struggling to keep a straight face and looked up at her, nearly catching her off guard. “Is it an 'a’?”

This time Belle did answer, and her voice wavered slightly but she composed herself quickly. “I- uh… yes! That’s right, [Y/n]! See? I told you you could learn.”

You grinned proudly and went ahead to guess the next word. “Is this one a ’t’?”

“Yes! Now what’s the whole word?”

“C-A-T… is it… is it… 'cat’?” You wondered, squinting slightly.

The young woman smiled gleefully and pat your arm gently. “You’re doing wonderful.”

You shuffled your shoes lightly against the ground as you waited for Belle to finish locking up the library behind you. She’s so beautiful.

She slinked up next to you and, when she praised you once more, you turned away so that she wouldn’t see the blush rising up to your face.

You offered to walk her home as the streets were becoming darker with each passing moment and after all, it was really no bother to you at all.

She took your arm gratefully and the two of you walked down the cobblestone path down to her home in comfortable silence. She didn’t seen at all nervous to be seen walking so intimately with a woman and that gave you a small bout of hope to ask her out.

You stopped outside her small yard and turned to look down at her. She was already looking up at you and your cheeks glowed under her attention. So did hers but you didn’t notice as you dragged your eyes away from hers and looked at your hands.

“Madam Belle?” You asked quietly.

Belle hummed, studying the way you fiddled with your fingers anxiously.

“W-would it be too much trouble- er, that is to say… would you fancy going out with me some time for some pastries and a cup of tea? I know you don’t want money so, would you allow me to treat you to something in thanks for you teaching me to read?” You inquired, not meeting her eyes.

Belle bit her lip and felt her insides melt. She knew you were asking her out, she’d read more than enough romance books to know that you were making an advance on her but, strangely enough, she found herself not minding at all. You were being shy and adorable and polite and not forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to, not like someone else did. She found herself answering honestly before she could help it.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” she responded softly, a hand tilting your chin gently to face her.

She placed a kiss on your cheek and turned rapidly, walking up the steps to her door as you stood there dumbfounded.

“[Y/n]?” She snapped her fingers as if she had forgotten something and you snapped up, “Yes, Madam Belle?”

“There’s no need for formalities. Just call me Belle.” She turned around and pushed her door open. You nodded lightly, sounding out her name under your breath.

“Goodnight, [Y/n],” called Belle, glad that you couldn’t see the tinge on her cheeks as she shut the door with a click.

“Goodnight!” You called, but she was gone.

You were glad she had gone inside because the next thing you did would have been far too embarrassing for her to witness. You whooped loudly, again in such an un lady-like manner, and did a slight jig, sending you uncharacteristically into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

On the other side of the door Belle looked around her small home and, seeing she was alone, slid down and giggled into her hands, her fingers doing a poor job of preventing her lips from curling into a simper.

A/n: Here you go guys! The awaited first live action! Belle oneshot! @pleasemakeitgayer @dunkinhoenuts @thewinterscallison 💕

A/n/n: How was this? Yay or nay? I wasn’t sure how to approach this one shot and I hope I didn’t mess up on Belle’s personality too much. It was a bit complicated to write her as she’s not a character I’m completely used to writing about and more often than not I found myself backspacing from ‘Hermione’ 😂 If this isn’t too bad I just might give her a go and take more requests for her. Also this is the first love action!Belle x fem!reader oneshot (on ANY social platform 😱 that’s kinda cool) so I didn’t really have anything to look at or anything to read as an example or just to get a feel of this character so… ya know, sorry if it sucks. Please give me tips or correct me on anything I did wrong! That way if you want to see more of her I know how to write her correctly. Constructive criticism is very much welcome and very much needed, thank you all💖

A Fool of Mine [5]

Originally posted by andantegrazioso

Title: A Fool of Mine
Chapter: 5/?
Pairing: Gaston/Reader
Words: 2,030
Summary: [ After another lunch date, you decide to visit the tavern for drinks. ]
Tags: @17gnomes-in-a-trenchcoat @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli
Part 4 can be found here

The next day you woke early, just to get to town before the hustle and bustle of the early morning crowd could swamp the square.

You rode into town, stopping at the bookstore to let the owner know you’d need to borrow your book just a few more days, and of course he was thrilled to hear you were enjoying it. You didn’t, however, let it slip that you’d only need it for your student rather than yourself.

You arrived home a few hours before noon and, after getting ready for lunch, you sat and read to pass time.

‘With all his soul he married her before the diocesan court et coram patre; and day by day he grew to love her more…’

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pale-silver-comb  asked:

♥ "Don't go", Sterek.

For you, my dear, I had planned to write some bottom Derek smut, but all my ideas for this had feelings all over them. So I wrote them all instead of picking one. I hope you enjoy it!

Four times Stiles and Derek say “Don’t go,” and two times they are exactly where they want to be (for @pale-silver-comb)

Derek’s voice is sleep roughened but edged with a practiced concerned awareness, gained from too many late night emergency phone calls, “Stiles? What’s wro-”

“Derek!” Sites interrupts with his usual exuberance, tinged with the softened slur of unaccustomed drunkenness, and Derek relaxes marginally as Stiles continues. “How are you man? I haven’ seen you in like- wha’ time izzit?” Stiles whips his phone away from his ear to check the time, but he’s too intoxicated to fight his own momentum and ends up twirling after the arc of his arm, stumbling. He barely manages to catch himself before he falls to the ground, but Derek is on his feet and getting dressed as soon as he hears the muttered “Oh, shit.”

Before he can yell for the human, he hears an honest to god giggle through the tiny speaker, and he relaxes ever so slightly. He can hear the indistinct baseline of something irritating and popular distantly playing in the background, the sound of the wind a low whistle through the phone line, and Stiles, laughing.

“Stiles, where are you?” Derek is grabbing his keys and toeing on shoes as he prepares to collect the human before he can get into trouble. Beacon Hills is relatively safe, if you don’t count the supernatural threats, but a good looking and clearly intoxicated seventeen year old shouldn’t be out wanting the streets at one thirty in the morning.

“I wuzzat a party with Scott. But he left with this girl, an’ he said I shouldn’ stay long, but he was ‘sposed to be my ride, and Der’k, I’m drunk,” he finishes seriously. “I’m drunk, an’ I can’t call my dad, and you’re like, my bes’ friend, an’ your car is awesome, an’ i-“

Derek is caught off guard by the sincerity in Stiles’ voice, but he focuses on the rising panic and cuts him off with a gentle, “Hey, just tell me where you are, I’ll be right there.”

Stiles slurs through his location, and Derek is relieved to hear it’s only a few minutes away. He keeps Stiles talking as he speeds to close the distance faster, and the wave of pure relief that washes over him at the sight of Stiles slumped against a lamppost is like an electric shock.

Stiles pours himself into the passenger seat with more grace than he usually possesses and flashes Derek a grateful smile. He’s more tired and regretful drunk than boisterous drunk now, and he lets his head rest heavily against the seat as Derek drives at a much slower speed toward the Stilinski house.

“Thank you for coming to get me, Der,” Stiles’ voice is clearer, but small sounding, his words not quite their usual crispness. “I’m glad it’s you, because I don’t have to worry about not saying how burning hot Derek is, or how I want him to push me up against a wall and kiss me, because you’re not him, and, oh fuck! You’re you!” he says accusingly, as if Derek had forgotten who he was talking to, and not the other way around.

Derek can feel the hot blush color his ears and flash down his neck at the image Stiles paints with his accidental confession.

“Stiles,” he begins, gently, but Stiles doesn’t let him finish.

“Derek, can we please blame the alcohol and forget that pretty much this whole night happened?”

Derek considers it. Stiles is clearly embarrassed, his scent gone sour and his heartbeat unsteady. It would be easy to ignore it, he’s had plenty of practice ignoring his feelings. But if Stiles wants him, and he doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t want him back- why should he? “What if I don’t want to?”

Stiles gasps, and it sends a shiver down Derek’s spine. “You- what?”

“We’ll talk when you’re-recovered. Alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles doesn’t sound convinced

After a brief internal argument, Derek reaches over and takes hold of Stiles’ hand and gives a reassuring squeeze. He’s immeasurably gratified when Stiles sighs happily and the tension melts out of him, his scent spiking sharply with contentment, fingers wriggling slightly to settle between Derek’s. Derek can hardly suppress the echoing sigh from his own chest.

Stiles careens back to drunken rambling quick enough to make Derek’s head spin, but since Stiles is now using their clasped hands to gesture as he speaks, he lets a fond smile curl his lips as a steady stream of mostly nonsense tumbles from Stiles’ lips.

As they reach the Stilinski house, Stiles speech has slowed and gone heavy with sleep, Derek tries and fails to not find it endearing, especially in combination with the lazy drag of Stiles’ thumb along the back of his hand. Derek opens the passenger door to assist Stiles in exiting the car, both of them making small surprised sounds when Stiles stumbles and crashes into Derek’s chest. Derek steps back reluctantly, draping Stiles’ arm over his shoulders and holding his waist. Stiles leans heavily against him, murmurs things like “You’re so strong,” and “All that scruff and you’re so soft under the grrr,” as he draws a finger along Derek’s jaw and stares through barely opened eyes gone hazy with sleep and liquor.

Derek manages to get Stiles upstairs and into his bedroom, settles him on the bed and kneels to remove his shoes. Stiles groans above him and something that sounds an awful lot like “Not fair you’re on your knees and I’m too wasted…” and Derek can feel the rush of blood through his entire body as he catches the meaning. By the time Derek is done with Stiles’ shoes, Stiles is flailing above him, half trapped in the sleeves of his shirt. Derek is torn between watching him struggle and helping him, but the strained, frustrated sound Stiles makes pushes him to help. He very pointedly does not look when the overshirt catches his t-shirt, lifting it to reveal a tantalizing strip of creamy pale skin and a hint of hair leading into the waistband of Stiles’ jeans.

As Stiles falls back into the bed, Derek helps to guide him onto the pillow, wrestles the covers from under him and tucks them gently around the sprawling form of Stiles’ body. He can’t help but smooth Stiles’ hair away from his forehead, the gesture hopelessly fond, and Derek is fairly certain he’s never done it so easily before.

Derek turns to leave the room, return to his own bed to try to sleep, knowing the clock will mock him and that all he’ll be able to do is hear Stiles’ drunken declarations on repeat in his head. As he makes to step away from the bed, his feet gone heavy and uncooperative with reluctance, he feels the brush of clumsy fingers at his wrist, wrapping around it in a loose grasp and sending a pleasant tingle through Derek’s arm, settling warmly in his belly.

Stiles’ voice is sleep soft, but steady, the words cutting through Derek painfully, “Don’t go. Please? I don’t want to be alone, I’m always- please. Don’t go.”

In the face of Stiles’ plea, Derek finds himself not only powerless, but having absolutely zero desire to turn back toward the door. The relieved whimper that Stiles releases as Derek drops gently onto the edge of the bed and turns his hand so their palms meet, threading their fingers back together, is like a punch and an embrace all at once.

They wake in the morning wrapped around each other, and it’s shockingly easy to smile at each other as they untangle their twined limbs.


When Derek is visiting Cora, his phone rings, and he smiles at the ridiculous picture Stiles set as his profile. “Hey, you,” he answers fondly, voice going soft and light like it always did now that he and Stiles were DerekandStiles. It quickly bleeds into panic tinged concern at the hitch in Stiles’ breath; the realization that Stiles has been fighting tears, has a reason to be, is a painful weight in Derek’s chest. “What’s wrong, Stiles. What is it?” His urgency is a palpable thing, an uncomfortable sizzle under his skin.

Stiles releases a shuddering breath, “God, I will never not appreciate how the sound of your voice makes everything feel better.” Derek’s worry is ameliorated slightly by the knowledge that he’s a comfort for the hyperactive human he calls his mate.

“I’m glad to hear that, babe, but what’s going on?”

“You’re going to hate it,” Stiles is hesitant, his voice is tinged with uncertainty, and Derek wishes he were there to wrap his arms around Stiles, to hold him and reassure. He makes an affirmative, encouraging sound, “Try me,” he says with more enthusiasm than he feels.

“So, there’s this… thing. Some kind of monster. We haven’t figured it out yet…” Stiles goes on, details a truly horrible plan, one that relies heavily on Scott’s frankly laughable leadership and Stiles as some kind of glorified bait. It’s a shit plan, and Derek does in fact hate it. Hates it so much he’s growling, actually, and it takes Stiles’ pleading “Der, please,” to break him out of it, to wash the red tinge from his vision.

All Derek can do is choke out a pained “Don’t go!” He knows it’s desperate and can’t bring himself to care, “Stiles, please. Please don’t go. This plan is fucking terrible. You know it is. I will get on a plane, I will be there tomorrow morning, just wait. Don’t go, any of you, but you can’t. Please?” He’s begging, and will continue to beg until Stiles agrees, “I can’t lose you. Don’t go. Remember, the night we started this? You asked me the same thing, please, Stiles.”

“Ok, Der, ok, ok. I won’t go. Please, don’t cry. I won’t go.”

Derek takes a deep breath, it catches in his chest, but he pushes past it, “Thank you. Thank you thank you, thank god.”

Derek is on a plane two hours later. Twelve hours after that, Stiles is in his arms; unruly hair sweet smelling and tickling his nose, wide, smiling lips pressed into his own.


When Derek needs to leave Beacon Hills, Stiles understands, he really, truly does. But it also feels like he’s being slowly pulled apart.

They stand quietly in Derek’s loft, silently embracing, Stiles still in his dressy graduation clothes, intermittent tears running down both their faces, until Stiles grips the front of Derek’s shirt tightly, hauls him impossibly close to devour his mouth in a desperate kiss. Their teeth clack, and their tongues swirl together in practiced rhythm, lips dragging slick and wet together. A great, sob of a moan tears out of Stiles’ throat and he buries his face in Derek’s neck.

“I can’t ask you, I know I can’t, but I want to, Der. I want to ask you to stay with me. I want to beg you. To scream ‘Don’t go!’ But I won’t. You deserve to go, to be ha- to find happiness, even if-”

Derek feels his heart breaking; hurting Stiles is killing him. He can’t bear the ache in Stiles’ voice, the sorrow laced through his scent. “Come with me,” rushes past his lips with force and sincerity, and he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before.

Stiles looks at him, hopeful but unsure, so he kisses the confusion off his face, cradles his jaw with careful hands. “I mean it, Stiles. It’s summer, you don’t start school for months. Come with me. Please?”

The smile that breaks over Stiles’ face is bright and honest, it’s everything Derek loves about the boy.

“Yeah. Ok, yeah, let’s go,” Stiles replies eagerly, peppering Derek’s face with kisses, hands restlessly petting as thigh assuring himself Derek is still there.

Derek laughs lightly, “I thought maybe we’d have a last go in a real bed, before it’s all motel rooms and truck stops for a while. And you know, pack, first.”

Stiles makes a considering sound, “Both good things. I’m especially interested in the first part,” he grins as he grabs Derek’s hands, walking backwards toward the bed.


Two and a half incredible months later, they’re laying naked in a motel bed, tangled together and still catching their breath, trailing gentle fingertips over one another’s faces, cataloging details. Preparing for time apart.

Stiles’ half packed suitcase sits on a luggage stand across the room, taunting them with the short time they have left measured out in clean and dirty socks.

Derek traces the curve of Stiles’ mouth, their eyes searching, but unwilling to leave the others gaze for more than a second or two. “You know-” the words are stuck in his throat, heavy on his tongue, he clears them away with a hard swallow, “I want to ask you. I guess it’s my turn to know better, huh?” He laughs without a traces of humor, and Stiles kisses his furrowed brow, smooths it with a long finger.

“You’re not ready to not be moving, and Berkley is pretty stationary, babe,” Stiles answers easily, his voice tinged with regret. “I understand,”he says, quieter than the rest, but without a stutter in his heartbeat, and Derek would know it’s true even without the added senses. Because Stiles understands Derek probably better than Derek does, and the loss of his constant presence is already aching dully in his chest.

“I’m going to have to say it. Just once. It’s practically tradition, now,” Derek attempts to joke, but the truth is it feels like the words are tearing at his throat.

Stiles kisses him, long and slow, as if to cool the burn of the things he can’t say. It almost works. They part reluctantly, hands and lips both clinging together, and it breaks out of him with a sob, “Don’t go.”

Stiles gathers him close, let’s Derek bury his face in his chest, strokes his back in soothing circles and holds his neck. “I have to,” he says simply, pressing kisses to Derek’s head. “But I promise I’ll always come back to you, wherever you are, until you’re ready.”

When they wake some time later, Stiles has to leave. Derek drives him to the bus station, because Stiles wouldn’t let him set a foot in California until he was ready to. Derek isn’t sure he will be, but he wishes he was now so he could steal those last miles with him.


They wake to cool morning light filtered through the curtains, and the muted sound of a cell phone ringing in the other room.

It’s been six months since they last got to wake up together, and it feels indulgent and surreal all at once. Video chats and constant phone calls and texts are an ok way to bridge the distance, but there is nothing so wonderful as waking up like this. Sleep warm skin and muscled limbs tangled together, warm breath on the back of his neck. Stiles is afraid it’s a dream.

Derek wakes, runs his nose along Stiles neck and places a long, hot kiss there. “Morning,” he says sleepily, arms tightening briefly before he shifts in the bed. Stiles panics, grabs Derek’s forearms in suddenly shaking hands, “Don-.”

Before he can finish, Derek is wrapping himself around him again, “Not going anywhere, babe. You’re not either.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, calms his heartbeat. “Sounds perfect, because I have plans for us that don’t involve leaving this bed unless it’s to hydrate or pee.”

Derek laughs into Stiles’ shoulder, the sound rich and deep, the rumble in his chest echoes through Stiles’ chest pleasantly. “I like the sound of that.”


A small cry pierces the predawn quiet, and Stiles and Derek startle awake at the same time. They blink tiredly at one another for a moment, taking time to acclimate and assess.

Stiles smiles at Derek, notices the slight greying of his still artful stubble, the lines starting to show around his eyes that he knows are from laughter instead of worry.

Derek smiles back, taking in the defined jawline, and the more beard than stubble that his husband has favored these last few years.

They say in unison “I’ll go,” and then laugh, kiss. Let it linger just a moment until the baby reminds them why they’re awake so early. Stiles places a quick kiss on Derek’s cheek, runs his thumb over his jaw briefly.

“You got her down last time, it’s my turn. Go back t’ sleep.” Derek makes a sound that Stiles takes as agreement, and he heads to the nursery across the hall, scooping up the small, unhappy bundle from the crib and settling her against his chest.

When Derek stumbles in moments later, Stiles is in the rocking chair, cradling their daughter and dozing slightly. Derek crosses the distance with a few long strides and moves to take the baby from her current Daddy shaped pillow and back to her own bed, intending to do the same with Stiles after, when he feels familiar fingertips against his wrist.

He looks down to where Stiles is holding him, turns his palm so their fingers thread together with the ease of years of practice. They smile at one another for long moments, until the sun starts to rise and add a warm glow to the soft lilac walls.

anonymous asked:

a prompt: spock standing close to the captains chair + accidental touching

the working title of this fic was “touchy touchy” if that tells you anything ghfjdks

Loud and Clear (read it on ao3 here)

“Hey, Spock? Could you come over here and look at this report for a second?”

Spock turned promptly from his station at the sound of his captain’s voice, catching sight of Jim’s bright smile before anything else. Spock nodded once and briskly walked over to stand at the side of the captain’s chair, placing a hand on the back of it yet still hyper-aware of making sure he did not touch Jim. However, Jim immediately leaned back, his bare neck resting against the knuckle of Spock’s thumb. He could not find it in himself to move away.

“So, see, it says here that Kollona is a desert planet, right? And I know we’re still a few days away from it, but I was doing some reading up on it and read that it has an extensive rainforest? Which would not make sense at all, obviously, but…” Jim’s voice faded out in Spock’s ears as he suddenly got a bright flash of thought through their skin to skin contact.

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Prompt: from @malindacath, “I was wondering if you could write something about Jim and Reader where they are in a relationship and anytime he compliments her, she blows it off. He goes to Uhura for answers finding out that as she grew up her family always degraded her so she really doesn’t have any self esteem or self worth even though she would do anything for everyone else”
Word Count: 1530
Author’s Note: GAH! Sorry!! I forgot the read-more cut! Getting into the mindset of this reader was SO easy for me. The first time the husband told me he loved me, my response was ‘are you sure?’ Fortunately for me, my parents weren’t the ones who fucked me up. It was school.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Jim leaned across the commissary table and dropped a kiss on your cheek, prompting a blush and slight scowl. “What?”

“Did you miss the giant spot in the middle of my forehead?” You countered, arching your eyebrow. “Not exactly enticing this morning.” You didn’t often fall victim to premenstrual pimples anymore, but you’d wakened with a zit that felt like a volcano brewing on your forehead. There was no covering it or masking it, and there was no making it go away.

“I hadn’t noticed at all. I was looking at your eyes, Y/N,” he shrugged, his glance lifting to assess the situation on your forehead. You felt yourself flushing more. “It’s tiny. Certainly doesn’t affect how gorgeous you are.”

You stared at him, expressionless. He had to be kidding, but you hadn’t finished your first coffee, and were in no mood to start a squabble about whether or not he needed his eyes checked. Instead, you returned to your meal wordlessly.

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Secrets, Songs and Bad Habits part 5

In which more sticky situations and stubbornness ensue.

A/N: I do apologise for any grammar or spelling mistakes in this but I am typing this in the notes on my phone and not on my laptop as I’m currently at school with no data but feeling inspired. Nevertheless here is part 5! I hope you enjoy reading it and much as I enjoyed writing it and the amount of support I’ve been getting is unbelievable,
it honestly makes my day and I love talking you so please message me or send things in my ask box. Also let me know if you like the added gifs, they’re not mine but I just figured they could add a little something

- A xoxo

Warnings: language, arguing and the slight mention of panic attacks/anxiety.

Your eyes widened in horrified shock and heat flushed over your entire body. He stood there in the doorway, messy Raven curls spiking out from the brim of his beanie and white vest clinging to his lean torso, exposing his toned, olive arms. You on the other hand were dressed for a party, heels abandoned and the straps digging into your fingers as you clung to them. Your hair was skewed and makeup smudged and you were still rapidly shaking, the remnants of your earlier panic lingering like a stale odour in the air.

He stared down at you, silvery eyes matching your saucer-like expression. You noticed his Adam’s apple rise and fall slowly as he swallowed his thick discomfort. Archie and Val looked between the two of you in confusion, probably anticipating a response but none came.

“So…you two already know each other?” Archie asked dumbly, you couldn’t tell whether it was a statement or a question but neither of you felt as though you could muster the words to form a coherent answer. Jughead snapped out of his (Y/N)-induced trance and shook his head furiously, mouth opening and closing as if words were dying to come out. Your heart sank and you scoffed quietly to yourself.

“Nope, not at all!” You said defiantly, voice louder and more aggressive than you had intended. With that you turned to Archie, shot him a disgustingly false smile of encouragement and led him into his house.

He followed you, eventually overtaking you and leading you all up to his room. You refused to turn around for fear of making eye contact with Jughead but you could tell by the pattern of the footsteps on the creaky stairs that he was lagging behind Valerie, probably with a moody scowl on his face or something of the like.

“You take third wheeling to a whole new level,” Jughead’s voice whispered through the darkness in regards to your current position - next to Val who was curled into Archies side, sleeping peacefully together in his comfortable but much-too-small bed.

“Hey I’d rather be a third wheel than a salty loner,” you retorted in spite, heavy eyes glued to the ceiling, unable to close due to your intense craving for a cigarette.

“Haha, fuck you!” Was the boys response that surprisingly lacked his usual eloquence.

“I have, wasn’t all that great to be honest especially when you abandoned me afterwards!” Your voice was half-yell and half-whisper and your frustration caused you to rip off the covers and fling yourself out of bed.

Jughead looked you up and down in the dimly lit room, the brilliant primary colours of Archies sweatshirt in which you were clad contrasting with your stormy expression. You brought your middle finger to your lips, sucking on it and taking to the back of your throat all while staring directly at the boy before you, slumped in a chair by the tiny television, milky cheeks flashing bright red as he watched your movements. You brought your finger out of your mouth and presented it to him, smiling innocently as you flipped him off. He rolled his eyes and muttered a rather flustered “so fucking immature” before turning his head away from you and folding his arms with a huff. You retorted with a swift “so fucking hypocritical” before shuffling over to the door and cracking it open. Seeing no light or movement coming from downstairs you grabbed your dress and shoes from the floor, fished in the dress pockets for your packet of cigarettes and your lighter before flinging your dress so that it landed on Jughead’s head and making your way into the hallway. 

Originally posted by 99percentskins

You tiptoed carefully down the stairs, wincing every other step as they creaked under your bare feet. When you reached the bottom could hear movement from the landing above you and you swore under your breath. You had woken Mr. Andrews from his peaceful slumber after invading his house despite being a stranger to the man, he would surely despise you from now on. Clinging onto the hope that you could make it outside and avoid his detection you darted to the front door. Struggling but finally succeeding to open it with you elbow as one hand was occupied with your packet of habit and the other had the straps of your shoes slung around it, restricting its mobility.

You slipped out onto the front porch, releasing a sigh of relief even as the icy air whipped at your bare legs. You plopped yourself down into the bedraggled wooden chair just outside of the door and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of your lighter and talking a dramatic inhale, tilting your head skywards and closing your eyes. As the cloud of smoke escaped your plump lips, mingled with a contented sigh, you heard footsteps moving rapidly towards the door and then said door open and close. You could sense somebody next to you and you winced, knowing you had been caught and would most likely be sent home by Mr. Andrews in utter disgrace.

Reluctantly you opened one eye, daring to take a peek at the person in who’s hands lay your fate. As soon as you did so your other eye opened too, only for you to roll them and let out a simultaneous exasperated huff. It was not Archies father that stood before you.  Oh no, it was Jughead Pendleton Jones III. He had followed you out and you most certainly didn’t want him around you. It wasn’t even because you hated him because as much as you despised yourself for it, you didn’t. In fact,  every time you were around him you found yourself having to catch your breath and tear your eyes away from him in fear of having the undeniable urge to pull him close and kiss him until your lips turned blue. Of course you couldn’t, he clearly didn’t want that because he was very apparently ashamed to be seen with you and you would not let somebody hide you away from the world to sustain their own brooding image!

“Stop staring it’s strange,” Jughead broke the silence, the undeniable tension in the air prompting his voice to sound thick and laced with sleep. You scowled at him.

“Shit, sorry it’s just that I’ve never seen such a massive asshole approach me before and I’m rather fascinated,” you hissed sarcastically, mocking a mystified gaze, “Please remember Jones, you followed me out here, I didn’t ask to be in your presence! You might wanna be careful though, what would happen if somebody we knew came out here and saw us - God forbid - talking?”

“I just came out here to make sure you weren’t causing trouble, as per usual!” He scoffed, being condescending was apparently his specialty.

“Well in that case mom, I’m fine so I’d really appreciate it if you left me the fuck alone.”

“No!” He shouted stubbornly, folding his arms and leaning lazily against the porch beams, making it obvious that he had no intention of moving any time soon.

Originally posted by dylanobrienbaby

“Why not?” You practically screamed in frustration, clinging yourself up from your seat and stomping you foot on the ground like a spoiled toddler.

“Hmm…let me see…” he feigned a thought with this eyes squinted and fingers rested on his chin “…maybe…because I live here?”

He phrased it more like a question than a statement but knew you couldn’t argue. Even in the misty night you could see his smug expression radiate like a lantern and it tipped you over the edge. Growling in frustration you pulled out your mobile and hastily dialled  a number, long nails clacking against the screen of your phone and echoing around you. You could feel Jughead’s eyes on you, still squinted and probably trying to anticipate your next move, one that you were quite sure would irritate him to no end.

“Hey Reggie have you been drinking tonight?” You began turning to look at Jugheas with a sweet smile as his eyes widened in disbelief “…okay radical…could you maybe come and pick me up, I’m at Archies house and I can’t sleep? Okay…of course Reg, I’m always down for a good time…okay see you in five babe.”

“Did you just…Reggie…are you serious (Y/N)?” Jughead demanded, jaw clenched and hands balled into fiats at his sides.

You nodded, eyes wide with faux innocence, taking a final drag of your cigarette.


“Hey, get in Dollface,” Reggie yelled from his seat in his car up to you on the porch, punctuating his statement with an abrupt beep of his horn. You slipped on your heels and giggled and you tottered over to the passenger door.

“(Y/N), please…don’t do this…you’ll get hurt…” Jughead said sternly, lowering his gaze and silently pleading with you to stay. You just scoffed, voice breaking slightly as tears threatened to escape the time of your eyes. You were already hurt, and it was him who did it. You looked between Reggie, glaring smugly at Jughead, tongue resting on his bottom lip and a single eyebrow raised in question, and then at the beanie clad boy that had broken your heart as he stood, stance aggressive but his face a mix of concern and jealousy. Reluctantly you tore your eyes away from his and opened the car door.

“It’s too late for that Jughead, I’m already hurt,” and with that you climbed into the car, leaning over to press a grateful kiss to Reggie’s cheek, Jughead watching your every move wishing he’d hadn’t messed things up, wishing he hadn’t lost you.

Originally posted by riverrdxle

anonymous asked:

#13 with nessian: " This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home…"

I don’t know how this ended up so feelsy? I’m sorry? I may have cried a little bit writing this. 

Nessian - Fluff, Hurt/Comfort - The Shining of The Silver Screen Makes My Heart Beat Faster

Nesta’s first suicide attempt took everyone by surprise.

Yet she survived. The worst part is having to see how deeply it shook those she loves - hell, even morons she’s only ever spoken foul to like Cassian had actually cried out in public when they’d visited her in hospital. She realises it isn’t just Elain who’d miss her. And whilst she recognises that she ought to be touched by their concern, she can’t help resenting it, knowing it will just be one more thing that holds her back the next time. Not to mention the fact that, because of their ‘touching concern’, she now has a personal bodyguard - AKA a stalker - protecting her from herself.

A personal bodyguard who is currently burying his face into her shoulder. “If you don’t like horror movies, you shouldn’t have come,” Nesta says, popping a kernel of popcorn into her mouth and chuckling to herself right as Jack Nicholson starts chopping down a door. “Don’t be such a baby,” she says, both to Cassian beside her and Jack’s wife, who’s sobbing hysterically about the fact that she’s about to get murdered by her psycho husband.

“Why did you make me watch this? What’s wrong with you,” Cassian pines, actually jumping in his skin when Jack starts hacking down the door. ‘Heeeeere’s Johnny!’ Leers the film, and Nesta can hear Cas mumble pitifully into the fabric of her shirt, “I fucking hate Johnny.” She does her best not to let on how hilarious he is making this for her.

“What else is going to be on at 2am other than horror films and porn?” Nesta retorts, glaring the second she sees a lecherous grin crack out on Cas’s face. “And fuck no, I’m not watching fifty shades with you.” No need to mention she already has a bootleg copy back home, currently slotted into her laptop’s disk drive. Suicides went to hell anyway apparently, so why not live life as a fucking piece of human garbage?

“Still can’t sleep, huh?” Cas asks, propping his chin up on her shoulder and looking right at her. She’s long since given up on enforcing personal space with him. Like a large dog eternally trapped in puppyhood, he always seemed to forget that she didn’t want a hug or a shoulder pat or a piggyback up the stairs. Not to mention his habit of keeping close to her, touching her, had been growing on her lately. It helps to keep her grounded; Not that she was ever going to admit that to him, of course.

“Not at night,” she says, staring at the cinema screen but not really focusing on the movie. “Once I’m out though, I never want to get back out of bed.”

“I know the feeling,” he says with a grin. She looks back at him with eyes that tell him that no, he really doesn’t.

Sighing, he steals a handful of her popcorn and picks at it thoughtfully. “Nothing make you want to get out of bed?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes things are good, once I get up. The meds are helping…” She doesn’t know why she’s telling him this, but it feels surprisingly natural. He’s been her near constant companion these past two months, since Feyre’s been away dealing with her psycho ex-boyfriend and Rhys has a world to save with his charity enterprises. Somehow in the midst of all the drama, Cassian’s become her one solid base in the centre of it all.

“I’ve started actually enjoying things again. Sometimes,” she confesses with a small smile, and for a moment the Ice Queen masks drops and she feels a warm, fragile glow in her chest. She hasn’t felt hope in a long, long time, and right now it’s just the tentative embers of a fire that’s long been out, but they’re there and they’re brightening, and right now the only person she wants to show these shy, tender new beginnings to is Cassian. “I had fun tonight,” she says, looking over at him as he finishes the last of the popcorn. “Actual, real fun.”

He looks back at her, swallowing - but that might just be the popcorn. “I- I’m glad my abject terror has amused you,” he says, struggling around his words, and she understands. When she talks about this, her illness, how sometimes she just wishes she was dead and none of this had happened, people get scared and don’t know what to say. Humour is often the best defense, and she doesn’t resent him for it. In fact, in what has recently become easier and actually genuine for her, she laughs.

“You were such a trembling maiden,” she says, smirking.

“I think I was rather brave,” he responds with an indignant sniff. “It went better than last night with the zombie movie. Thanks for holding my hair back by the way. That was too much gore for me. Shame too, I spent a lot on dinner.”

“I can’t believe you were in the military.” She sets the empty popcorn bucket aside and turns in her seat to face him. Despite the screaming and crying and hysterics on the big screen, she feels unusually safe, like those reborn embers of hers really are glowing softly in the space between them.

“I can’t believe you’d want to hurt yourself,” Cassian says, shifting in his seat so that he’s draped over the armrest next to her, so close now. His soft murmur can barely be heard over the theatrics on screen, but Nesta blocks everything else out, focusing solely on him. “You’re so unstoppable and ferocious and bright. I don’t think anything could ever - would ever dare - get in your way except you.”

She meets his eyes, studies his face, lit by the flickering, ever changing light of the movie screen. He’s not beautiful, not some Mr. Darcy come to be her knight in shining armour, but he is possibly the warmest human being she ever did meet. A dozen people have told her she’s an idiot for what she did, as if it weren’t an illness, as if she chose to feel this way. He’s only ever been there to hold her hand - not that she would ever let him.

“Cas,” she says, “can I kiss you?”

He reaches over to the armrest and takes her hand in his, his rough fingers lacing with her delicate ones. This time, she does not draw away. “My dear, impossible Nesta,” he leans his forehead against hers, his nose brushing against her cheek, “you may.”

Ask me ACOTAR prompts from here

Extreme Measures

Anon Requested:  I’m a little confused, are drabble requests open? If they are can I get a Yoongi one with #73 and #99 please? Sorry if requests are closed

Drabbles are currently open :) (I know you sent this a while ago but the requests were open then too ) I tried this in First Person POV instead of Second for once so I hope you like this! Feel free to give me criticism :) Good, Bad, Any criticism is good criticism! 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Insecurities, weight problems, body issues, self hate, depression, slight mentioning of an eating disorder

Word Count: 1770

“Show me what’s behind your back.”

“I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

There’s nothing tragically beautiful about depression, the fools who believe it is haven’t truly had depression in their lives. It’s not sad songs and poetry, shy glances or drowning in the bath. It’s not ghostly white skin tainted by charcoal circles under sad eyes and large purple bruises stretching viciously up your arms. It isn’t lonely walks, vacant coffee shops or smoking dusty cigarettes.

Depression is unwashed clothes and flaking skin. It’s over eating and the inability to even get out of bed and then hating yourself for eating too much and not doing anything that day. It’s giving up on yourself and not taking pride in your appearance anymore because when you feel like this who do you really have to impress? You don’t care about relationships, you don’t care if you’re late to work or end up getting kicked out of school. You just don’t care anymore. Its empty inboxes, bursts of anger and late night tears. It’s a feeling of disgust within yourself that makes you want to tear off your own skin just so you can feel clean because you feel like you’re the lowest and filthiest piece of scum there is in the world. Its uncertainty and confusion. It's losing weight, long showers and greasy hair or even gaining weight, not showering and feeling awful. It’s trying to starve yourself to lose the weight and the only way to stop yourself from eating is to sleep. It’s constantly wishing you could be somewhere or someone else. It's losing the will to even live.

Depression is not tragically beautiful, it’s just tragic.

Sometimes I feel like there is something eating me up from the inside, as if my conscience is telling me I’m not good enough. It’s probably right, I’m not good enough for myself let alone my boyfriend, but I try and be the girlfriend he deserves, the one who isn’t too heavy, the one who has a flat stomach and toned legs and the one that every guy wants to be with. Every day I plaster my face with makeup, wear loose clothes and fake a smile; but some days I can’t take it anymore. I miss dinner one day and then again and again and after one fateful day of passing out at work and Yoongi having to come get me I realized there were other ways to do this. Better ways than starving myself.

I’ve tried it all, I’ve tried working out and I didn’t see the results after a month so I gave up on that. I’ve tried starving myself and well…we all know how that turned out. I even tried making myself throw up, disgusting I know but I ended up cutting that out when Yoongi had to force me to the doctors because he assumed I had a bun in the oven. I had to just tell the doctor I had food poisoning just so he wouldn’t get suspicious.

But now here we are! My latest and most fulfilling way to lose weight, pills. Some pills work wonders if you have enough money for it, thankfully my family has always been on the wealthier side so I’ve always had enough to get me by and then some.

The pills were never a problem for me, within two weeks I shed fifteen pounds just like that, no exercising necessary and no more throwing up. It was just hard to take the pills whenever Yoongi was home, this is the longest break he’s had since he finished tour and of course he wants to spend time with me, I’m not making that out to be a bad thing but the pills are what’s most important.

I end up having to sneak away for a few minutes just to go to the bathroom to take the pills. I take them three times a day and thirty minutes before I eat, though the only thing I ever eat is maybe half a banana and if I’m feeling a tad bit more snackish maybe a cup of ramen.

Closing the bathroom door quietly I opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the cylinder shaped pill bottle labeled ‘ibuprofen’ I had it mislabeled so just in case Yoongi finds it and looks up the actual pill name he doesn’t freak out. The cap came off easily and I easily took two pills out. 6 pills a day. That’s not really a lot if you think about it, besides, there are people that are addicted to painkillers and all I’m doing is taking pills to lose weight, weight that I feel like I don’t need. That’s perfectly normal, that’s-

“What are you doing?”

Shooting my head up to stare at the mirror I saw Yoongi, his eyes were on my hands and I instantly turned to him, pills in hands and pill bottle still on the counter, my hands were behind my back but I knew he could see the pill bottle in the mirror. “Show me what’s behind your back.”

“It’s nothing.” A smile appeared on my face, I was usually pretty good at lying, lying to Yoongi was a lot harder for me though, I always regretted lying to him about if I was fine or not but some things just didn’t need to be brought to his attention, he had enough stress on his plate my weight problems didn’t need to be one of them.

Yoongi didn’t fall for my smile, he instantly took a step closer and I took a step back, but only to find me pushing myself against the sink counter. His eyes narrowed and his hand gripped my arm yanking me towards him. A small yelp left my lips from the sudden physicality but my hands still stayed behind my back, hands squeezing tighter so he wouldn’t see the pills. “(Y/N). Show me.” He growled, his voice growing deeper as his eyes stared into my eyes with something I’ve never seen before. All I could do was shake my head at him refusing to show him the pills. I couldn’t, it’d break him inside. (Y/N)-”

“No!” I cried, tears soon filling up my eyes before I let them fall with a blink. “I-I can’t. Just go out of the bathroom and pretend you didn’t see anything then everything will be fine.”

Yoongi looked at me incredulously, his eyes slightly widening from my outburst but the seriousness came back almost instantly. “Just show me what’s behind your back.” His eyes flickered to the mirror again and saw the pill bottle, with a light and simple shove I was pushed to the side and Yoongi grabbed the opened bottle and grasped it in his hands. His eyes scanned the label and before I could even react he dumped the whole bottle in the toilet and flushed them down.

I stood on the brink of something I couldn’t describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on my shoulders and I struggled to take even a single step forward. It was too much. All of it. And somehow, I kept moving. But every step cost me. The darkness grew darker; the pain grew sharper; all of it seemed to only grow in strength and I began to wonder if things could ever get better. The pills were gone, the only thing that seemed to give me hope and happiness on being the perfect girlfriend was now gone and flushed down the toilet.

Only once it resonated with me that they were gone did I finally break down, and I don’t mean I cried, I was now angry, angry with him for flushing down my hope, angry at him for not even noticing how sad I was, but most of all I was angry with myself. I pushed him back, his back hitting the bathroom wall and a screech of my voice coming at and colliding with his eardrums. “How could you!” My hands came back again to push him but they were only caught in his hands. His hands tightened around my wrists and quickly walked forward backing me up against the wall opposite to him. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you really think I haven’t noticed how much you’ve changed? God, I can’t stand seeing you like this!” Yoongi’s hands only tightened as he got more frustrated. “You know I was waiting for you to tell me. I thought we’ve been together long enough that when you’re hurting you could tell me.” His eyes bored into mine and his hands tightened even more now to the point of hurting. “You’re hurting me.” My voice was small, quiet and frail but he heard me none the less. His hands still stayed around my wrists but loosened up a tremendous amount. I looked up at him but his eyes were now squeezed shut and his head was hanging low. I didn’t know what was going on in his head, how could I know? He knew what I was doing this whole time, I only kept it a secret because I knew it would tear him up inside, but in reality he had to suffer alone and silently waiting for me to come clean to him. “I’m sorry.” My voice picked up in pitch but it was more of a whisper still.

Yoongi never opened his eyes or raised his head. His hands dropped from my wrists and hung by his sides. “I- I should’ve-”

“Talk to me (Y/N). Just talk to me when you’re depressed, don’t worry about how I’m going to feel.”


“No buts, I have been going out of my freaking mind seeing you like this and I could barely stand let alone watch you do this to yourself.” Yoongi’s hands now came up to my face cupping my cheeks in his hands.

“How long?” You whispered knowing he would be able to hear what I had just said. He gave a confused look so I spoke again. “How long have you known?”

It didn’t take long for him to answer. “Four months ago.”

“So when I started…I’m sorry.” I breathed out letting out the few tears that have been building up behind my eyes. Yoongi shushed me once I spoke those two words. His lips met my forehead and when he pulled back tears were now welling up in his eyes only making me feel more upset and a small cry left my lips. “Yoongi…I-I’m-”

“Shh, it’s okay. We’ll get through this okay? You just need to talk to me when you need help with all of this okay? You’re going to get better…you will, I promise.”

A little tied up

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Steve tries to teach Tony about tying knots, but Tony’s mind keeps wandering into more kinky parts of his brain. And if you can’t beat them…

length: 1 313 words

warnings: light bondage

a/n: sooo, I am kinda sleepy and don’t know what is happening and thought that maybe you want a fic today. this prompt - still trying to make my way through my prompts… hope you like it!


A little tied up

“This is how you do an overhand knot. It is the basic one.”


“And this is a square knot. It is really sturdy.”


“And this is a granny knot. It is similar to square knot, but here–”


“Tony!” Steve scolded, as Tony dropped his head on the table and fake snored. “Pay attention! You might need this one day!”

Keep reading

inimitableoriqinal  asked:

Olicity "Pitch" au - Oliver is the hot shot baseball player who's time is almost up and Felicity is the rookie & the first woman in the league. Instead of being a tech wizard she's a star athlete. Or Oliver is a baseball star who thinks too much of himself and Felicity is the agent who has to rein him in.

(Went with the second prompt–thanks!)

Felicity’s heels clicked against the painted concrete floors of the warren of rooms and hallways underneath Petco Park.  But she didn’t notice that, over the video she was streaming on her tablet and the sound of her cell phone calling another phone.  

When she got voicemail, she bit back a curse.  “Okay, if that’s how you want to play this, Oliver, then I’m gonna play,” she spit out into the phone.  “See you in five.”  

She ended the call and shoved her phone into the pocket of her purse, while she hit replay on the video that showed her top player engaging in a game of strip baseball with three other players and several models.  

“Damn it, Oliver,” she muttered.  

Yeah, the whole ‘strip baseball’ element wasn’t great.  Not when she had been trying to make Oliver’s public image match reality and his private image.  When he had come up, he had been a playboy and a douchebag.  But after sixteen years in the majors, it was well past time for Oliver Queen to be seen by his fans and the general public as who he really was: a man who had put his body through incredible abuse, all in the pursuit of a championship.  A pursuit that his team kept falling short in, a pursuit that Felicity knew Oliver wanted to win more than anything.  

Most of the time, Oliver wasn’t what she had expected before she had met him.  When they had started working together at the start of the season, Oliver had wanted help negotiating his final contract and knew he needed to improve his image to get what he wanted.  Felicity, for her part, had been intrigued.  The Oliver Queen she met was thoughtful, serious, tactical.  Not the drunk, flirtatious asshole she had heard he was.  

And she had liked the man she met.  The man she saw interacting with fans, with his teammates.  Liked him enough to violate the boundaries she had set for herself when she started in this business.  

Which was the last thing she should be thinking about right now, Felicity told herself.  No, she had to be focused on this problem.  Figuring out why Oliver had gone off the rails like this.  Because this stunt was so out of left field, Felicity acknowledged, even as she winced at the baseball pun.  

This kind of behavior?  Oliver had left it behind, she thought.  Ever since his best friend and teammate Tommy Merlyn had been killed in a car accident five years ago, Oliver had been different, according to other players and his coach, John Diggle.  So she didn’t understand what was going on with him–and she was going to get to the bottom of it.  Even if she had to use her Loud Voice.  

Finally she reached her destination and knocked on the door of the trainers’ room.  “Is Oliver Queen in there?”

No one answered, but Felicity could hear voices behind the door.  Lifting her fist, she pounded on the door.  “Open up or I’m coming in!”

She thought she heard a muffled “No!” but Felicity didn’t wait.  She opened the door and stepped inside, striding along with all the determination and confidence that had let her succeed twice in male-dominated fields: computer science and sports agent.

“What were you thinking?” she snapped as she stalked over towards Oliver, who was ensconced in an ice bath.  “Strip baseball?  With girls who barely look legal, putting aside the fact that they are way too young for you?  I thought you wanted to change your image, Oliver, not continue to feed this idiotic idea that you’re some spoiled rich kid who doesn’t give a damn!”

He wasn’t really looking at her.  He was hanging his head, acting like he was ignoring her, which stoked her ire.  “Look at me!” she demanded.  

That got a reaction.  His eyes met hers, fiery blue on fiery blue.  “You sure you want to do this, Felicity?”  

His voice was honey over gravel and she felt her insides twist.  But she shoved aside that flutter of lust and lifted her chin.  “You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts, acting like you could care less how I’m trying to help you.  So the mountain is coming to Mohammed.”  

“Okay, then.”  With that, Oliver hoisted himself up, revealing that yes, he had been naked in that tub.  

Unconsciously, her eyes flicked down and marveled at how little a reaction the cold water had on that part of Oliver’s anatomy, before she wrenched her eyes up to meet his.  

“You say I’ve been ignoring you.  How about how you’ve been ignoring me?  For a month, I’ve been trying to get you to talk about us.  And you’ve been ducking the conversation every time,” Oliver said, his hands on his hips, apparently not caring that he was standing naked in front of her, his body–scarred and rugged and completely, incredibly beautiful–on full display.  

“So I pulled a stupid kid move and did something to get your attention,” he continued.  “It was dumb and the last thing I needed, but, Felicity–I don’t give a damn about my contract anymore.  I almost don’t care about winning a World Series.  I just want to win you.”  

Felicity felt her heart pound.  Oliver had done this because of her?  Because she had been too scared to consider that she was falling for a baseball player–for a man–like Oliver?  

Licking her lips, she whispered, “I’m not a prize to be won.”  

Oliver clumsily got out of the tub to be closer to her.  In spite of the designer dress she was wearing, Felicity couldn’t move, couldn’t back away from his wet body.  

“It’s not like that, Felicity,” he said, reaching out and clutching her hands.  “I know you’re not a prize, not like that.  But … everything’s changed for me.  None of what I do on the field matters like it used to, none of it will matter, if you won’t give me a real chance.  If you won’t give us a real chance.”

She didn’t know what to say.  She kept searching his face, trying to find her answer in his eyes.  And she thought he sensed her dilemma, her struggle, because he moved even closer and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.  

“Please, Felicity.”  

That was all it took.  Oliver Queen, the man who never said please, said it to her. 

Going up on her toes, Felicity kissed him.  Kissed him slowly and sweetly, her hands coming up to cup his stubbled cheeks, feeling his arms come around her, pouring herself into a kiss that was different from all their other kisses.  From every other kiss she had ever had.  

Because this was the first time she kissed someone without thinking about anything else but him.