pouting her own

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Today on “Would You Rather” with the Borgia siblings

Would you rather: 

a) do a socially acceptable Eskimo-kiss and let the tailor standing awkwardly behind you think you’re not that weird

b) do a passionate, totally non-platonic French kiss and let the tailor continue working on your clothes because #multitasking

Just One Kiss (5)

Word Count: 2607 (whoops)

Summary: Bucky intrudes on girls’ night, and a tipsy Louise forces the two of you into a conversation you weren’t prepared for.

Warnings: Umm a little anxiety? A bit of hurt feelings. Mostly just fluff

A/N: Yep, this part really got away from me. Oops. I’m pretty sure this is going to be a thing now though because I planned my chapters, and I’ve got a lot to cover. As always, please remember to comment, reply, or message me to make my day and keep me writing more.

Catch Up Here!

Originally posted by heartsandwheels

You tried to act annoyed when Bucky stepped into the diner that night to walk you home. You really did.

“We’re closed,” you said pointedly, disappearing into the back to bid goodnight to the kitchen staff. When you returned to the front, Bucky was still there, leaning against the wall beside the door with drooping eyelids.

“What are you even doing here? You’re dead on your feet, honey!” The endearment slipped out before you could stop it,  pulled from you by the same fatigue that seemed to drag at Bucky’s every limb.

“Did you just call me honey?” he asked with a slow smile, opening his eyes just enough to peek at you.

Keep reading

Now It's Three In The Morning


She calls him up for a good time but something’s wrong. //loosely inspired by “why’d you only call me when you’re high” by arctic monkeys. fluffy, not smutty sorry. i was in my feels. 

Harry’s phone rang as soon as his eyes shut. After a long day, he had finally found himself in the comfort his own lonliness in his isolated flat. After a glass of wine and some day old spaghetti, and the possibility of his hand sneaking into his pants, he called it a night and headed upstairs to his room.

He often found himself drowning in loneliness not because he didn’t have an abundance of friends or because his art work wasn’t getting recognition. Quite the contrast actually; he was becoming well known in the industry and his company was proud of his achievements, and adding in his family support, he was the most grateful man there was.

Of course Harry’s main concern was his career, however when the nights were as peaceful and sleep inducing as this one, he yearned to roll around and meet the love of his life who willingly allowed him to cuddle into her warmth under her arm while he played absentmindedly with her hair, muttering sweet phrases against her neck.

Harry hadn’t had a proper girl under his wing in a few months, on the other hand, he was amazing at falling in love without a care in the world with the next girl he saw at every bar or club.

Just as his eyelids drooped, the annoying shrill of his phone permeated the silent room. To make his hectic life easier, he had assigned a different ringtone for every caller and usually, he ignored the typical three beeping one. However, this ring was different, one he looked forward to. The girl hadn’t called him recently and the thought of him not being able to please her was always in the back of his mind.

“‘Ello?” he tried not to make his words sound slurred with sleep.

Hey Harry. Did I wake you up?” Her sweet little voice whispered.

He rubbed his eyes with one hand and shook his head. “No no, love. How are yeh?”

Harry knew she didn’t want to have a proper conversation with him. She knew he didn’t really care how he was, or at least that’s what she thought. And he definitely knew she was never in the mood to be questioned about her well being or her parent’s. She only wanted one thing from him and that didn’t require words.

I’m fine,” she breathed. “Where are you right now?

“Home, love.”

A pause. “Could I, um—,” she stuttered, finding the best words to say: I need you to fuck me, please, I want to come over.

“It’s a li’l late, don’t yeh think?” he suddenly remembered, in an attempt to relieve the ache in his sweatpants.

Yeah, fuck, I know it’s late. It’s almost 3 I think..really need it, please Harry?” She whined and for a moment, Harry thought she was crying. Her voice was nasally in the worst way and voice quivering. Either that, or she was extremely needy in her skin.

“Do yeh ‘ave work tomorrow?” he sighed, scratching the back of his neck. The last time she had work in the morning was a mess.

No! No, I don’t Harry and it’s snowing so I don’t think I’ll have work the day after tomorrow either.”

Harry wasn’t the type to be easily manipulated but her voice always caused a great deal of harm to him, particularly the mess in his pants. With a couple of more pleading suggestions from her mouth and offers, he gave into her offer and allowed her to come to his flat. He made sure to remind her to drive safely, he didn’t know if she was high or drunk or sober, because the roads were becoming quite icy as the temperature continuously dropped.

Harry didn’t bother rushing to tidy up his house because they’d been through his before. She was just going to trudge upstairs to his room and watch him remove his clothing was she mimicked his actions.

When she finally arrived at his doorstep, Harry allowed her to enter his home without getting a proper look at her face. “Hey.”

“Hi. Sorry to bother you,” she cracked a smile and glanced up at him to make sure he wasn’t perturbed. To her relief, there was a smile on his face also, and an arm extended towards her. She graciously accepted his tight hug and continued to his bedroom.

“Not a bother at all,” he assured her, walking behind her. He took her coat and carelessly draped it over his couch as he walked by it.

“Your room so looks nice,” she exclaimed as she walked into the dimly lit room. Harry had recently hung up a couple of his favorite paintings and redecorated the furniture. He was quite proud of the result also. She landed on his bed on her back, arms stretched like an eagle. “Got a bigger bed too!”

Harry chuckled and nodded, taking it upon himself to straddling her waist, leaning down. The mischief in her eyes heightened as he placed a fake pout on his face. She loved it when he was playful. “Yeh like it?”

She gazed up at him with a small smirk, latching her hands around his neck, allowing her eyes to watch him carefully. “I like it very much.”

She pushed up and grazed her lips over his. Her tongue outlined the edges of his lips slowly, relishing in the taste of his skin. She murmured, “I would love something else too.”

His fingers dig into the skin of her waist. “And what’s that, hmm?”

She dragged her lips across her jaw to her ear where she promptly suckled on his earlobe. “I would love it..if you fucked me.”

A low moan fell from the man’s lips, unable to take it any longer, pressing his lips to hers in a frenzy, sucking harshly on her bottom lip. Her sweetness was driving Harry insane, breaking him apart by the seams of his sweatpants, threatening to tear him down. It would only be so long until he was pressing her hips into the mattress while he pounded into her to relieve any stress he had building up in his chest from the last time they met up. She tasted faintly of red wine and Harry wanted to suck on her tongue, but he had to release her before he let his lust get a hold of him.

“Harry,” she gasped as one of his veiny hand wrapped around her neck, holding her in place as he peppered rough kisses to her neck. His tongue swiped over her salty skin, preparing for a bite.

While Harry was in the process of bruising her delicious skin, basking in her moans, he hadn’t realized her legs had wrapped themselves around her waist. Her limbs held him down against her and it was enough for Harry to draw back and prove his dominance.

“Take these off, now,” he growled, fumbling with her belt buckle.

Hastily, she pushed him away and undid the buckle, handing the belt to Harry who discarded it by the foot of the bed. She loved when he became rough with her. His long fingers unbuttoned her jeans and quickly dragged them down her legs, throwing them in an aimless direction across his bedroom.

His shirt followed, adding onto the pile, and her nails raked down his exposed torso, feverishly pressing kisses to the tattooed area, letting herself get a taste of him once more. “Such a good girl,” he cooed softly, throwing his head back as she trailed her kisses farther up his neck and jaw.

Finally, she reached his lips and pressed one heavy kiss to his swollen mouth, suddenly torn away from him.

“Harry!” she whined when he thrust her back into the mattress, taking a quick moment to walk into his shared bathroom.

“Minute, love. Need a rubber,” he called back, breathing heavily. His eyes caught onto a box of condoms he had recently purchased, thankfully.

He came back and saw her sit up in his bed, arms crossed against her chest. She watched him quietly untie his sweats and push them down his legs, grasping the bulge in his boxers with one hand. He didn’t roll the rubber on immediately, choosing to sit by her.

She didn’t latch onto him the way he expected, instead opting to continue watching the way his tattooed jumped every time he inhaled sharply. Her finger absentmindedly traced his sparrows and the small freckles that littered on his skin.

“Y'alright?” he muttered, brushing her bangs off her forehead with his pinky.

She nodded and removed her hands from him. She pointed at the rubber sitting adjacent from her. “You’re gonna put that on right?”

He blinked. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

She just nodded and rose to her knees, sliding her hands back into his hair. She found herself in his lap, caressing his lips with hers while his large hands pressed her closer to his crotch. With a roll of her hips, she had him a panting mess underneath her, something that made her smile.

“So beautiful,“ he murmured, cupping her cheeks.

She hesitant with the next kiss. His dominant lips overpowered and she allowed herself to be kissed feverishly. Then, she drew back from him, choosing to sit back on his bare thighs and tilt her head questioningly at her. “What?”

He opened his eyes and frowned. “What?”

“You just said something,” she pressed, dropping her hands into her lap, nervously wringing them.

“I called yeh beautiful?”

She slowly nodded, a pout settling on her own lips. The dampness between her legs was impossible to ignore at this point but his words were confusing to her.

“Why?”

He seemed bewildered and couldn’t believe what she just asked him. Quite frankly, she felt stupid for asking too, regretting it.

“Why can’t I say tha’?”

“Because we’re just sleeping together.”

He nodded and removing his hands from her waist, leaning back on his arms. “I’m aware.”

“So you can’t say stuff like that!”

“I said yer beautiful not that I’m in love with yeh,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. She felt a pang of hurt strike her heart. He seemed annoyed and probably didn’t want her to stay any longer. She seemed to have that kind of affect on her friends lately. Nobody wanted her to stay.

“You’re right, sorry, sorry,” she sighed, bringing herself closer to him. Her fingers tangled in his curls again, shifting him closer until their lips touched.

She was distracted. Far more than she usually was and Harry could feel it in her kisses. It was almost as if she wanted to ask if she could kiss him or slither her tongue back into his mouth, the way she was doing moments prior to the abrupt statement.

So he pulled away from her and sighed. “What’s wrong?”

She hummed in confusion. “Nothing. Why?”

“You just seen a little… off today,” he clarified.

The light in her eyes slowly dimmed into a dull speck. Her hands were still pressed worriedly under her shirt, toying with the fabric. “I’m okay, Harry,” she breathed, pressing her forehead against his. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Then nothing’s wrong. Kiss me, please.”

“Alright..” he still seemed a little apprehensive but pressed his lips to hers once more before laying her down.

He grasped her wrists in one hand and locked them above her head, using his other hand to push her shirt up her torso. His lips continued to assault the already forming angry bruises, grinning to himself at how he easily was able to get her squirming underneath him. Her t-shirt lay besides her head, and he began to search behind her back for the clasp of her bra.

“No don’t,” she breathed when his fingers found the metal. He should have been disturbed by her constant talking. He hated when his girls interrupted him. All he wanted was to show her a good time.

“Hm?” he hummed, biting down on her skin. She tasted so damn good, he could stay like this all day.

“Don’t take it off,” she said far more clearly now.

“I always take—” he began but was cut off by the trembling girl.

“Well, not this time.”

His heart sank slowly as she spoke. The best part of being with her in particular was her beautiful figure. he wanted to object and question further but instead, he sighed and nodded, muttering, “That’s alright. No problem.”

His fingers picked up on the small foil, using his teeth to rip the flimsy paper open. One of his hands was still around her wrists, holding her down.

“Harry,” she said, attempting to break free from the bond. He glanced down at her to show he was listening.

“I wanna put my shirt back on,” she whispered so quietly it was hardly audible for Harry but he released her hands as soon as she spoke.

“Yeh want to leave?”

She shook her head and quickly sat up, throwing her shirt back over her head. “No no, just wanted to keep my shirt on. It’s a little cold.”

Harry didn’t bother reminding her that he always kept his flat a comfortable temperature during the winter but he didn’t think she wanted to listen to it. When she was done adjusting the cotton shirt, she looked up at him expectantly.

He simply knitted his brows together. “What’s goin’ on? And don’t say there’s nothin’ because I know there is. I think I know yeh well enough to be able to tell when yer upset.”

Her face visibly fell. “Nothing is wrong Harry, I’m telling you. I just want to keep it on.”

“Did someone say anything to you?” he insisted, releasing any part of her body he was touching and settled back on his heels. The movement caused panic to arise in the girl’s eyes.

“No! Nobody said anything. It’s just a little late and I’m tired and I really—”

“Shouldn’t you be at home then?”

“Harry, no I wanted to be here—”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you and you said I could—”

“Are you upset at me? ‘Cause I know I haven’t called yeh in weeks.”

“Stop interrupting me!” she suddenly yelled causing the man in front of her to flinch. His jaw clenched.

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

The girl felt extremely small but apologetic too. She was taking her anger and stress on an innocent man, dragging him into the mess. Why the hell was she yelling anyways? It wasn’t his fault she fucked up numerous times. But she couldn’t control her whirlwind of emotions right now, no, she needed a scapegoat and Harry seemed more than appealing.

“Sorry!” she exclaimed quietly, defeated. She dropped her head to her chest so he couldn’t catch her quivering lip. “No, I’m not upset at you. I have no reason to be.”

“Then why are yeh bein’ so weird?”

“Harry, all I want is to be here right now alright? What’s so bad about that?!”

Her voice was thick with emotion. Harry hadn’t noticed her eyes welling with tears but he caught the first drop that began traveling down her cheek.

“Love…”

“If you don’t want me here, you could tell me to leave and I will. I won’t force you to—”

“I never said I wanted you to leave!“ 

“Well you’re not going to do anything with me now!”

“What are you going on about?” he sighed, rubbing his temples.

“I’ve ruined it. You don’t want to sleep with me anymore, right? Why did you keep fucking asking what was wrong, I was fine before! You’re so stupid sometimes, H!”

It was so wrong. It wasn’t his fault.

“I don’t even know what I did!” he exclaimed in a pit of confusion. His head was starting to throb at the banter. She suddenly wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shifted away from the man.

“Look what you’ve done!” she cried, covering her face with her hands, knees pressed to her chest defensively. Her soft cries were enough to tug at Harry’s heart, a frown still etched on his features. He was wary to touch her, still confused and cautious.

“What did I do? I don’t understand. I’m not telling yeh to go home,” he said slowly. “I merely was asking what happened.”

Her voice was muffled. “I didn’t say anything was wrong and you’re not supposed to ask me what’s wrong! All I wanted was to be here.”

“And yer here now, poppet. Why can’t we continue?”

“Because I ruined the mood.”

“What? No yeh didn’t. We could still do it, if yeh want.”

Her small head raised and she peered at him through her lashes. “I don’t want to anymore.”

Frustration was building up in his chest but he refused to show it. “Well, alri’.”

She knew he was disappointed but she couldn’t halt her crying. Every emotion she had felt this past week was coming back to bite her in the butt and she couldn’t do anything. She wanted to say it wasn’t his fault but she didn’t have the voice to anymore. He walked around his bed and placed the articles of clothing back on his body while she watched him. Her jeans were carefully placed besides her and Harry threw the open condom in the trash.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be sorry, love. Nothing to apologize for,” he muttered and he sounded agitated. Her suspicions were refuted when he rubbed her back softly once he sat back next to her, smoothing the ends of her soft hair.

There is,” she hiccuped. “I woke you up.”

“I told yeh already. Yeh didn’t wake me up. I had just finished work.”

“You were tired and I made you let me come here for no reason!” she ignored his statement and more tears slide down her jaw. He hadn’t noticed before but being this close to her made him notice that her eyes were already puffy and lips bitten raw. She wasn’t only crying because of Harry’s discomfort or how she couldn’t relieve his ache.

“But that’s not it is it? There’s somethin’ else.”

Her head softly hit her knees, still sniffling. “Nothin’ else.”

His hand bunched in her hair, tugging lightly at her roots to encourage her to look up at him. He hated not seeing her eyes and being able to read her every emotion. “Love…tell me, please? At least lemme try to help.”

She continued crying, Harry’s hand slipping out of her hair in defeat. “Yeh want me to make yeh some tea?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Well if yeh don’t want to talk to me…”

“I messed everything up and I keep messing it up,” she blurted suddenly. “Ruined everything this week, can’t do anything right anymore!”

If it was possible, the girl’s body because racking with heavier sobs and muffled cries. Harry’s hand only rubbed her back more gingerly, sighing softly as he finally collected her in his arms, rocking her slowly against his chest.

“That’s what it is then? Bad week?“He was secretly relieved that it wasn’t something worse.

"I used be able to make friends so easily and I can’t do that. I’m not even good at my job. My mummy hasn’t called me in weeks and you’re the only person who’s bothering with me right now,” she whimpered. “And now you’re my therapist.”

He let out a chuckle at that last statement. “I’ll be yer booty call and ya therapist. Nothin’ wrong with tha’.”

She raised her head, face contorted with sadness and wet lashes. "You’re more than that, Harry.”

Harry didn’t think he had it in him, but he held himself back from wiping her tear stained face and pressing his lips heavily to her mouth. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “You’re my friend.” then she added with a little panic in her voice. “Right?”

Harry admitted he didn’t know her much besides the fact that she had a sweet little moaning voice and her body could do wonders. He knew that she had a warm mouth and a pleasuring remainder of her body. If that’s what defined a friend, then that made her dictionary quite flawed. Her huge eyes kept staring at him until he reassured her. “Of course I’m yer friend!”

Her features visibly relaxed. “Good.”

“Yeah, poppet, and yeh don’t need to be upset. I wasn’t that tired and yeh didn’t wake me. In fact, I haven’t got a work day tomorrow.”

The girl’s hands inched towards the waist of her jeans. She toyed with the silver button and zipper. “I don’t have work either.”

“Yeh told me.”

Oh.” She quietly played with the button while her tears dried on the apple of her cheeks. She didn’t continue so Harry spoke.

“Tell me about yer week.”

She let out a long sighed and sagged her shoulders. Her fingers relaxed and were drawn back into her lap. She seemed to battle with her feelings as to whether or not she should place her burdens on Harry’s shoulders but he seemed more than willing to lend her an ear so she opened her mouth. One glance into Harry’s light green orbs made her realize that he was going to get it out of her no matter how painfully boring it was. She liked that about Harry.

“I met a guy.”

Ouch. That shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did for Harry who’s mind was already reeling with images of the beautiful girl in front of her with another man, holding his hand, kissing him, being in love with him. “Oh?” he tried to appear nonchalant. “What’s wrong with him? Is the package small?” he joked, playfully rubbing at his clothed dick. 

“I never got to know. I went on a couple dates with him a few weeks back. He was nice. But,” she took a deep breath, “he made me feel a little weird. He said I didn’t look like a writer but more like, and I quote, ”those girls who probably cheat on their men with friends with benefits.’“ and I got really angry.”

Harry blinked in disbelief. "That’s what yeh call nice? I’m a bloody saint then.”

She ran a frantic hand through her hair. “No! He was so nice and charming and he was so good with words. But then he suddenly said that and I got up to leave from the restaurant and he began yelling things at me.”

Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence, eyes welling up again. Harry’s hands itched to cup her cheeks but he held himself down again. It was too unnatural.

“What kind of things?”

“Just stuff about how I looked. How my body couldn’t possibly be worth his time and that my personality was boring and that I dressed like a cheap whore. Nobody even said anything to him!” she blubbered, using her hands to gesture around her to pitifully prove how much it hurt her. Harry briefly remembered a time where he was in bed drunk with her and she had painfully admitted to him that she despised her body and thought it was crazy how Harry kissed on her. He had told her she shouldn’t worry about it and he didn’t think she was being serious until now.

She didn’t let him say anything, continuing: “He said I didn’t have an alluring body and that I probably didn’t write good and that I would probably sleep with anyone I met.”

“Love,” Harry cut in, shaking his head. He couldn’t resist cupping her cheeks between his palms, drawing her in closer. “None of that is true. Yeh do write amazing and yer body is so fuckin’ beautiful. Yeh had my attention the moment I saw yeh.”

She didn’t reply, wringing her hands again, glancing around the room anxiously, her breathing shallow and labored. “Yeah?”

“Yes, fuck, of course love. He was so bloody wrong, so so wrong. Yer so much better than all that.”

“Even though I slept with you the night I met you,” she muttered.

He sighed. “But look at us now. We’re friends now. That wasn’t going to happen with him. And yeh trust me, don’t yeh love? It’s different for us.”

She looked like she believed every word but Harry couldn’t be sure so he continued verbalizing his frustration. “And yeh don’t need to be insecure with y’body. I’ve told yeh, y’have the most fuckin’ sexy figure. Isn’t that enough?”

“It is,” she pouted and Harry had to kiss that red mouth. Thankfully, it started moving again.

“My company also called me yesterday and said the editor mentioned my work wasn’t really on par and that I rewrite a couple scenes but they ruin all my hard work and they don’t see it!”

“Yeh can tell them to fuck off and do whatever yeh want. And send me a copy ‘cause I want to read that shit,” he grinned, running his thumbs through her wet lashes.

“Harry,” she whined, letting her head drop to his shoulder. His palms began rubbing her back again.

“Would love to read it, that’s all.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. She simply inhaled his musk, eyes fluttering shut. Now that she was a deflated balloon with no emotion left to spill, she felt at ease, extremely calm. A couple minutes later, Harry felt of pair of lips at his neck. “Thank you.”

“None o’ that love. We’re friends remember?”

He felt her lips curve upwards as she nodded. “That’s why I’m thanking you. You’re my only friend.”

They stayed like that for some time, leaning against each other and Harry was sure she was asleep until she sneezed softly into his chest, muttering an apology. It suddenly hit Harry that the night had made the girl has lonely as him. They were both the victims.

His hand was still scratching at her scalp, small moans of approval began falling from her swollen lips. She had also mentioned to him when she was drunk that she loved when people played with her hair and who was he to deny her of such simple happiness. His fingers were locked in her strands, happily tugging away, earning groaned from the girl. “’M gonna fall in love with if you keep doing that,” she had once claimed and Harry only continued the movements with a smirk on his face.

“Hey,” he began suddenly, glancing down at her.

“Hi,” she replied sleepily.

“You didn’t really come over to sleep with me right?”

She chuckled and tilted her head to gaze up at him. Her eyes were dripping with sleep which Harry found adorable, but didn’t say anything.

“Actually, my only reason to come here was to fuck you.”

Oh.

“Not very cute, sorry.”

“Do you still want to?”

Her eyes averted to the alarm clock resting on his side table. 4:03. “Reckon it’s a little late now. I’m sleepy.”

“Later then,” he said cheekily before drawing his covers back. “Lay down, love.”

She yawned and shook her head. “I’ll go home, don’t worry.”

“Oh I’m not worryin’ love, I’m pretty well aware that you cannot drive in a blizzard.”

“What?!” Her head raised long enough for her fingers to tug back Harry’s dark curtains behind his bed post to peer through at the empty street. Sure enough, snow blanketed the streets, not a trace of car tracks anywhere. “I didn’t even—”

“So lay down. Unless yeh want tea.”

She laughed softly. “Don’t want your damn tea.”

He only shrugged and removed his shirt once more, ignoring her look. “Yer loss. I can make a pretty mean pot of jasmine tea.”

He slid into the space next to her under the sheets, a small grin on his face, dimples proudly displayed. His eyes fluttered closed but he still felt her eyes on him.

“You’re sleeping with me?” she gasped.

“I’m expecting yer mouth around m’cock when I wake up, so yes.”

His smile only widened when he heard her small giggle and her body shift under the covers. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

He nodded, popping one eye open. “Say “thank you” once more and I’ll bend yeh over the counter tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you for everything Harry!” she was quick to yell, another giggle falling from her lips.

“That’s my girl.”

The girl watched Harry fall asleep besides her with fascination. Usually she fell asleep before the man because of how tired he would make her body. She suddenly wished she had always been the last to dive into the deep sea of slumber. Harry didn’t move, already knocked out. She simply sighed and closed her own eyes.

Loving Kara

The Danvers girls have been on their fair share of double dates.

Alex’s organic chem TA and Kara’s crush from the art club at school.

Alex’s med school boyfriend and Kara’s junior year attempt at fitting in.

Sometimes, the double dates would end with Kara crying in Alex’s arms because she’s broken someone else’s nose. Again. Because they called her a freak, again. Or, they didn’t, but they didn’t call back, either.

Always, the double dates would end with Alex nursing a pit in her stomach while she nursed away Kara’s tears, because the guys she dated were into her – very into her – but she was never… into them. And she couldn’t figure out why.

And then there was Mon-El. 

Kara couldn’t break his nose – well, not accidentally, anyway – and she didn’t have to hold back when she hugged him – well, not much, anyway – and he knew her people, her language, remembered her planet – well, one version of it, anyway.

He reminded her of where she was from, and maybe that was enough comfort for her to keep staying even though he kept being… well, Maggie had a lot of words for him.

“He’s so damn full of himself,” she’d thrown a dish towel down after a few hours of biting her tongue, and Alex looked up from where she was clearing away dishes, her eyebrows raised and her breath held. “Your sister’s boyfriend.”

“Maggie – “

“I’m sorry, you know what, it’s not my place to say – “

“No, no, hey. No one’s disagreeing with you. That’s… that’s even a generous interpretation of him. I mean, romantically. I guess he’s fine when they’re just… being all cousinly.”

“Cousinly, Danvers?” 

“You know what I mean.”

So the first few double dates where Alex actually felt comfortable with her partner? Still didn’t go so great.

Especially that last one.

That last one that ended with her in a tank full of freezing water and her worst nightmare.

They didn’t do double dates for a long time after that.

Because Alex was recovering and Maggie was having nightmares every night and Kara was mourning, reeling, berating herself and isolating herself.

And Alex was trying not to let her.

“Hey Kar,” she started one Sisters’ Night after… after. Her voice was scratchy from hours of just sitting there, holding a mess of her little sister and blankets together, watching whatever Kara wanted, being as silent as Kara wanted. Just being close. Just… being.

Kara grunted weakly, and Alex turned to kiss the top of her head.

“Maggie and I – “ 

Kara immediately sat up, taking all the blankets with her. “That’s right, I’m sorry Alex, go. Go be with your fiancee. I’m okay. I’m sorry for taking all your time – “

“Hey, Kara, stop. That’s not what I meant, that’s not what I was saying. Get back down here. Please?”

Alex pouted, and Kara sighed, because she got her own pout from somewhere. She laid back down on her big sister, and Alex pulled her even closer.

“Maggie and I ran into Lena at that NCPD luncheon thing earlier today,” Alex started again, and felt Kara’s body stiffen somewhat.

Rao, if Maggie was right about this – not that Alex disagreed, but Maggie was just the first to notice it, because Alex still wasn’t too great at detecting ladies luvin ladies in action – she would owe her a flash grenade for real, and J’onn would kill her. Not literally. He’d probably even be amused. But also stern.

Well. Some things were worth it.

Kara grunted again, this time with some hope in her voice, and Alex grinned and kissed her hair again.

“And the three of us got to talking, and Lena said she hadn’t been apple picking since she moved to National City. Maggie knows this place a little ways out of the city, and the three of us were thinking we could all go. The four of us. Like um…” Alex stumbled over her words and gulped and pressed on. 

“Like a double date.”

She felt more than saw Kara blink once. Twice. Three times, before sitting up slowly. “A double date,” she repeated, and Alex gulped. 

“Yeah. Me and Maggie and um… and you and Lena.”

“So, with you on a date with Maggie. And me on a date with Lena.”

“No, Kara, I want you to go on a date with my girlfriend and I want to give Lena Luthor the time of her life.”

Kara flinched slightly at that, and Alex’s heart broke.

“Kara. You give Lena the time of her life. And if we’re being honest, I think… I think she does the same for you. I know you might not want to think about dating right now after… after everything that’s happened. But I wonder if… if being open to something that healthy could be… could be good for you.”

Kara nodded slowly, and ran her fingertips thoughtfully over Alex’s knee, tracing patterns of lost words of love, of hope, of persistence, in Kryptonese.

“So you just asked me out for Lena.”

Alex pursed her lips and tilted her head, a habit she’d long-since picked up from Maggie.

“Yes?” 

And then she saw it. For the first time in too, too long.

It was slow to form, but it was pure and it was genuine and it was life-changing.

A smile. A real one. A deep one. The kind that lights up eyes and warms hearts; the kind that tastes like hot apple cider on a crisp fall day and looks like the all the world might suddenly have something resembling peace.

“So should I tell her yes or should you?” Kara asked, and Alex’s smile grew to match her little sister’s.

They spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, but talking, giggling – and yes, some crying, and yes, a lot of eating – and eagerly anticipating the first double date that both of them were sure to enjoy.

blankets — p.p.

summary: “you’re hiding under the blankets because you’re blushing?” (requested)
tags: @themultilingualmartell — thanks for your help on these !!


Multiple tissues were strewn around her bedroom floor and she groaned as another headache hit her. A knock was heard on her bedroom door and she furrowed her eyebrows.

“Come in,” she croaked out, inwardly cringing at how awful her voice sounded. Peter peeked his head into her room and found her cocooned in her blankets. She offered a weak smile and he walked over to her bed before kneeling in front of it.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered, placing the back of his hand onto her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the heat of her fever. The skin on her forehead burned his hand and he frowned.

“Terrible,” she said. A sudden fit of coughs were leaving her mouth and she groaned, pulling the blanket over her head. Peter let out a small chuckle.

“Darling, come on,” he urged, trying to pry the blanket from her fingers.

“No, I’m hiding,” her voice was hoarse and muffled from the blanket and Peter laughed.

“Why on earth are you doing that?” he questioned. Another fit of coughs ensued from her.

“I’m hiding because I’m sick and I look gross,” she complained, voice still muffled from the blanket that covered her face. Peter had a playful smile on his lips.

His hands grasped the blanket and he gave a forceful tug down. It was successfully pried from her fingertips and he smiled at the pout on her lips. His own pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

“You’re beautiful, m’love. Sick or not,” he whispered and a different form of heat rose to her already rosy cheeks. A smile spread across her mouth but was soon concealed by her yanking the blankets over her head again.

“Are you hiding again?” Peter laughed and he heard her hum of agreement.

“Why are you hiding this time?”

“Because I don’t need you to see me blushing anymore,” she stated and Peter grinned.

You’re hiding under the blankets because you’re blushing?” he teased. One hand reached out from the blanket and swatted his arm, causing the blanket to slip down to her neck.

“M’only joking love,” Peter mumbled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead again.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he said, lips brushing the heated skin of her head. She smiled.

“I love you too, Peter.”


request a prompt

matildaswan  asked:

berena lap sitting pls <3

boston.

There is an alcohol ache in her head, a dream weight in her body, but she feels like she might burst, might fall apart at the sight of Bernie Wolfe in her kitchenette - tiny, and messy and home for a while.  She’s missed her in the mornings. She’s missed her, like this; unkempt, a little gruff, bed-warm, well-kissed and here. 

Bernie’s hair is a halo of knots, and sleep sits on her shoulders, gathers at the corners of her eyes. She is a mess of their clothes (a borrowed cardigan, borrowed slippers) and a jumble of grimace and frown as she stares down at the mug, cradled between her hands: an unhappy appraisal, a sight to behold.

She slides a mug over the small table, then leans back in her chair, takes a sip of her own, pouts. 

‘Jesus, Serena, this coffee’, she says, and Serena pads across the linoleum, plucks the sugar from near the sink, sets it down in front of Bernie. ‘When we get back - ’ 

‘I’m not going back.’

Her tone is short, unguarded, harder than intended, and she watches Bernie’s shoulders square, her light smile fall (milk staining her upper lip). Her gaze falters, fails, falls to her mug, and she peers into it as her mouth opens, shuts, opens. 

‘No - right - of course -’, before she clears her throat, looks up at Serena, earnest, miserable. ‘Not ever?’

She doesn’t know how to tell her. She doesn’t know how to say she’s lighter here - she likes it here - coffee and all. She’s not ready for England, not ready for Holby, wants desperately to crawl back under the covers here, in her new bed, with Bernie, stay there forever. 

Instead she edges closer to Bernie, who watches her, eyes wide and hopeful, clambers onto her lap, shuffles forward. She hears the clatter of the mug on the table, feels her hands moving to her hips, feels her thighs between her thighs. 

‘Not yet’, she mumbles, reaches forward to graze a thumb against her lip, below her nose, where the coffee has stained a little. Bernie slips her fingers a little below the waist line of her pajama bottoms, pulls her close, closer, so that their bodies are flush, so her eyes catch her eyes, her determined stare catches her desperate one. It’s a promise, not a parting. 

paris. 

Serena collapses in the small armchair, in the corner of her crowded apartment, face red with wine, eyes bright with laughter. She watches Bernie shuck off her jacket, her scarf, her shoes, stumble around until she can hurl each boot towards her bed - talking a mile a minute.

She’s missed Bernie at midnight. Missed the way Bernie speaks to her, more to her, French to her - as they stumble from restaurants, hail cabs, chase pigeons through parks. She’s tipsy, and happy and here and Serena feels lighter than she has in months, as Bernie crawls into her lap, flings a leg over either side of her legs. She throws her head back - lets out a great honking laugh - as she fumbles, loses balance, as Serena scrambles to catch her, hands gripping her thighs. 

‘Take me home’, she says, and Bernie chortles, gestures wide around her. 

‘We are home, you silly.’

Serena licks at her lips, nudging Bernie’s leg, and her hair falls in a curtain around her face as she lets her chin fall, as she peers at Serena, close enough to count her freckles.

‘No’, she smiles, wide, kisses her. She grins against Bernie’s mouth, Bernie’s cheek, Bernie’s ear. ‘Take me home.’ 

anonymous asked:

"I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.” Can you do this one for Kara and Cat? 😁😁 please!

Supercat + 008:  "I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

Kara bounded up the stairs, already banned from flying through Cat’s penthouse windows in the middle of the day. And the stairs were quicker than the elevator for someone with superspeed. Admittedly, Kara had skipped a few flights by, well, flying.

She could already hear Cat talking to herself as she rounded the corner to Cat’s door. The other woman was muttering about her missing glasses. They were probably on her head, Kara thought with a smile. Kara knocked, bouncing back and forth on her tiptoes in anticipation as she heard Cat walking to the front door.

“Look what I got,” Kara said as soon as she saw Cat’s face when she opened the door. Kara held out her prize: a rather large chocolate cake from one of the bakeries downtown. She’d been tempted to eat half of it on her way over, but she hadn’t wanted to show up with chocolate all over her face. The doorman probably wouldn’t have let her in the building if she had.

“I assume you’ve got big plans to eat ninety-five percent of that by yourself?” Cat asked. She stepped to the side, letting Kara into the apartment. She was drying her hands off on a hand-towel. Kara eyed the movement skeptically.

Keep reading

seigephoenix  asked:

Oooh 170 for the NSFW prompts please? I rarely catch this so I am so glad I did. I love your writing so much!

Awww you have no idea how much that means to me @seigephoenix you really don’t! Thank you! *giant hugs*

This was longer than I expected, but meh, it ends with some smutty smut which is all that matters, right? I also combined your request of 170 “Bend Over” with another very old anon prompt 13 “ anything involving the secretive brushing of fingertips against inner thighs in public spaces” (Sorry it took me so long anon, this was sent months ago!?). The two just went together in my head! 

So for @dadrunkwriting we have some Cullen X Annabel Trevelyan NSFW Smut, fluff and a little humour, set at the Winter Palace just before Trespasser. Hope you like it!

——————-

Sweet desserts

Lady Annabel Kathryn Trevelyan doesn’t want to discuss the foreboding Exalted Council, doesn’t want to be sat at this long table, dangerously close to the Empress, and most certainly doesn’t want to listen to another one of Lord Teagan’s stories. She swears she’d heard he was an interesting and handsome Lord, but it seems her sources were woefully off.

Speaking of off, she pokes at the soft cheese thing on the plate in front of her. A savoury dessert? Cheese!? Orlesian’s… Only the Winter Palace could ruin dessert. With a huff of disappointment, she looks to Cullen, happy to see he’s barely touched his either. She presents him a winning smile but his attention is fixed on a conversation he’s having with the noble lady opposite.  

The woman is lent over the table, all but exposing herself to him and doing her best to be as disgustingly charming as possible. A frown creases Annabel’s forehead. Lady Brightwell had been one of those who had enquired after his linage following their last adventures at the Winter Palace, and it would be a lie to say either Annabel or Cullen had been happy with the seating arrangements.

Josie had ensured her it was all for a good cause with the Exalted Council being so close but she still didn’t like it. Nor had she liked the starter, mains, dessert, or conversation, but the wine was at least good. Perhaps a little too good. She’s not sure how many glasses she’s had but it’s enough to gloss over what would otherwise have been a total loss of an evening.

For a moment she simply watches Cullen, how his eyes dart away as the woman compliments him. In many ways, he still is very naive, or perhaps just humble, shy. But Annabel knows something far more confident, far more commanding, lingers under the blush on the surface. The lady opposite seems far too keen, pressing her bust together until there all but spilling out.

It’s time for some fun and to make sure they both remember her presence.

Picking up her wine she chimes in. “Lady Brightwell, I must say, your own hair is looking ravishing, where did you get the idea from?” her hand slips onto Cullen’s lap and slides down his inner thigh.

What in the name of Andstrate is she playing at!? Cullen’s eyes widen then promptly settle back to his usual serious expression. She surely wouldn’t – oh yes, of course she would. He shifts in his seat, Annabel’s fingers brushing his inner thigh then travelling up his crotch, making him stir to life.

Glaring at her from the corner of his eye, she seems undeterred, chuckling about something. Something about him! Now his eyes narrow. He’d been in a bad enough mood to start with, although he knew she felt little happier about these torrid noble gatherings, but now she’s jesting with some noble about how adorable he is when he blushes!

Her foot brushes against the back of his calf, her hand still working its usual magic. He doesn’t know where she’s learnt such temptress tricks from, ones that send him from soft to aroused with moments, but he knows he does enjoy them. Most of the time that is.

“I do not blush,” he interjects at their giggles, his voice overly stern. “And do you, Ladies, not have better things to discuss?”

Through his trousers her thumb presses down and circles around his ever-exposing tip. A surge of pleasure rips through his body, making him jerk and grab the table, much to everyone’s surprise. With a sharp breath he regains his senses.

“You’re right Cullen,” Annabel smiles sweetly, eyelashes fluttering as she rubs sinfully slowly up and down his growing length. “Do you know what I find most alluring about our dear Commander, Lady Brightwell?”

“Oh, no, but please do tell me!”

Annabel finally releases him so she can lean over the table, motioning the other woman in for a private whisper of intrigue, something every dinner party needed. He can’t hear what’s said, not over the general din but there’s a shocked gasp from the Lady opposite, her hand flying to cover her mouth and her cheeks turning crimson as she sits back down.

Now what is she playing at! Annabel goes to resume her stroking but his hand is quick to grab and clamp down on hers.  “Inquisitor,” he growls. “May I have a word? In private. A rather urgent matter has just come to mind.”

“Of course,” her tone is light as is her smile, clearly realising her game was done.

“Excuse us, Lady Brightwell,” nodding he abruptly gets to his feet, Annabel’s hand still clasped in his and he sets about almost dragging her away. Pushing open the dining hall door they cross the small courtyard briskly in silence. He’d had men scout the layout, and knew of a small study off to one side which he swiftly pulls her into.

“Before you get angry,” she starts as he closes the door, leaning to rest his hands against it and compose himself. “It was really dull in there, the food was horrid and she was openly flirting with you!”

Growling he reels to face her, she’s perched herself on an armchair beside a hearth full of embers. Her arm is draped over the back of it and used as a pillow to rest her head making for elegant sight in her flowing red gown. Folding his arms, he refuses to let his annoyance go so easily. No matter how stunning she looked in this new red dress. Always red. Always the most gorgeous woman in any room. It’s hard to believe she was actually jealous, he arches an eye brow sceptically.

“What!? It’s true, she practically had her boobs out on the table! That’s hardly my fault!” her chin lifts in the air, betraying her noble upbringing as she pouts, crossing her own arms defensively. “And did you see that dessert, what’s wrong with cake? Everyone likes cake! There was cheese with blue bits of mould in it. Mould. In a dessert,” she puffs lifting her chin even higher. “When we get back to room I’m ordering cake…” she mumbles her complaint to herself and he shakes his head lightly.

She was right. The lady had been flirting, or he’d thought so, and the food had been awful, he was in fact still hungry now. And she is of course, impossible to stay truly mad at as she runs from one thought to the next bringing honesty along all the way. And speaking of cake may have also captured his attention. Even still he won’t simply let such a brazen act go.

“That does not excuse you using me as your…your entertainment!” He may not be mad but he’s still irked and makes sure this much is evident in his hard expression.

“I know,” she huffs a heavy sigh, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry… I should know better. I know I don’t have to worry about the likes of Brightwell, not really, but still…” She’s on her feet now slowly closing the small space between them, a hand reaching out to squeeze his arm. “I don’t like other women thinking of you like that, undressing you, with their eyes like that,” her voice is soft as her the blue irises gaze up at him. “You still have no idea how handsome you are, do you?”

Any leftover annoyance disappears, lost in the sincerity of those eyes, she really had been jealous. No doubt board and mischievous too, but he could hardly hold that against her, that was her essence after all, adding that naughty but nice spice into his life in a way he never knew he’d needed. And she is divine in that dress, bodice boosting her curves, hugging her waist and swaying over her rear. From the moment he’d seen her in it he’d wanted her out of it, now his fingers trace lightly down her arm, they are alone…

“You do realise, we’re going to have to finish what you started,” he muses, his lip twitching a dark smirk. “And of course, such behaviour requires punishment.”

A shiver runs down Annabel’s spine at the word, her eyes widening and a smirk creeping over her pout. “You mean you don’t wish to return to the dull party and awful food, which I so rudely distracted you from?”

He gives a light chuckle and she knows all has been forgiven, a grudge bearing Cullen did not chuckle like that.

“Not until I’ve put you back in your place, Lady Trevelyan,” he presses into her. Looming over he walks her backwards with his bulk, his eyes glinting darkly above as they halt at the chair. Her pulse begins to quicken at him so close, at his musky warm scent and commanding presence.

His mouth seals against hers with a passionate kiss, lips roaming over each over, drinking it the bitter tang of red wine that stained them both which she sighs into.

It’s all to brief, broken as he roughly twists her round. Holding her hips she can feel him hard against her back and it sends a shudder of wanting through her. He leans over, arms wrapping around, his chest sitting flush against her back so he can drop his voice to breathy whisper in her ear.

“Bend over.”

The order is simple and for once she obeys. She seeks for purchase as fabric rustles, her skirt hiked high she helps make sure her ample rear is on full display just for him. There’s a growl and a pinch that makes her squeal before her smalls are tugged down to her ankles followed by a short swift spank.

She yelps, lurching forwards, before settling herself back down, her blood now pumping hard as she feels the heat of a red mark spread on her cheek. 

Mimicking her hand movements earlier his fingers rub gently at her inner thighs, moving up slowly as his other hand loosens the corset.

Once lose enough his hand gropes round, grasping and kneading at bosom as his other fingers press and drag slowly up and down her creases. The touches deliver a moan from her, she’s all but helpless under him, her nails digging into the old cushions, wishing it was his heated skin under them. 

Punishment indeed. 

Oh, he’d learnt how the different ways to punish her long ago, but forcing her hands and mouth to be idle as he enjoyed the sins of her flesh, that was a simple classic.

His mouth lands on her shoulder blade, placing hot and heavy kisses across to the crook of her neck, exposed but the elegant bun she’s pinned in place. The stubble of his jaw is a harsh scrape against her sensitive flesh, another shudder, a wave of pleasure and want travels through her.

“Cullen…I’ll be good, please…” she murmurs then is forced to hum as his finger slips inside and he rolls her pert nipple between his fingers, taking his time with deliberate movements and kisses. “…please…” she moans now as he works. Twisting her head, she tries to seek him, wanting more of him, all of him, only to have her nipple pinched in sharp reprimand. Her sudden gasp generates a low rumble from his chest and suddenly she’s left deprived of his touch.

But not for long. Heavy hands are soon back on her hips, swaying and guiding her as he runs his scorching tip and length of his shaft over her rear. “Have you learnt your lesson yet, Trevelyan?” He presses his tip at her entrance but doesn’t force inside, making her mewl at its throbbing heat so close.

“Yes, Commander,” she nods, some dark hair tumbling loose in large wavy curls. 

“Good,” with that he plunges inside. A gasp and a cry escape her lungs as he slowly fills her. Arms out stretched she pushes back, seeking to feel all of him, to know he’s filled her completely, to know she is his, completely.

She sings a blissful hum as he hilts himself, oh Maker, nothing in the world mattered other than him. Rocking his hips, he soon begins to rut, his patience for the punishment seemingly gone as she hugs tight around him. Each movement is swift, a forceful smack inside her very core which jolts fiery pleasure through her. He pounds, again, and again and again. 

Maker, he’s glorious, he’s always so fucking glorious, and he’s chosen her. Only lays claim like this to her. This is the side of the Commander no other woman, noble or not, would ever get to see.

Ploughing hard and fast the sound of flesh smacking against flesh, panting and growing cries overpower to fill the small peaceful place. She can’t help it, every drive is another throb of pleasure, a babbling chorus of ‘yes’ pours from her soul as euphoria builds, she aches for him, for more, and he delivers. Each pound makes the pleasure grow, taking over her body, her mind, breathlessly panting, sweat drenching her skin as it builds and build. Finally she can take it no more.

Ecstasy explodes and shatters through her, shooting along every nerve, forcing out an organismic cry so loud, it resonates off the ancient bookcases and thrills the dusty tomes. Before her ringing praise has even ended he finds release, moaning for a few pants, blunt nails gripping as he spills, the guttural moan breaking as his hips slow and his hold slackens.

He comes to stop, withdrawing slowly, and panting heavily he lowers her layered skirts back down before moving to collapse in the plush chair. 

Still struggling for air and for some purchase back in the real world, Annabel’s eyes blink hazily open. He looks as dishevelled as she feels. Loose golden curls resting against his forehead, his jacket haphazardly undone and trousers up but not yet containing him.

Maker, he’s such a magnificent beast. Sprawled like a King on his throne, like the lion of Fereldan she knew he was. With slightly wobbly legs she manages to climb in, he shifts to allow her space to nuzzle against his side, skirt and legs wrapped over him. Reaching up she finally gets to kiss him, her hand tracing his jaw, letting their mouths move together naturally, deep and tender, tracing her tongue over his, as he kisses back.

With a shared sedated hum, they part to lock eyes for a moment, to share the love burned deep into the others, running through each of their cores, and smile devotedly. 

Annabel settles in the crook of his neck. Her heart beat calms with his under the palm of her hand, and after a few blissful moments she smiles, cracking her eyes open and glancing up at him.

“Hmmm… Don’t you want to know what I said to make Lady Brightwell blush so hard?”

He chuckles, heavy lids half opening to look at her as he shakes his head. “No. No I do not.”

 ———————

Thank you for reading! If you liked it likes, comments and reblogs are always really appreciated :)

Affliction (Shalaska) - jazz

Summary: Alaska has commitment issues. Sharon reminds her who she belongs to.

A/N: Almost 3.5k words of non-AU Shalaska for ya, with lots of smut & some angst and fluff thrown in as well! She/her for Alaska, who’s in drag for the majority of the fic, & he/him for Sharon. Warnings for punishment and some slight dom/sub dynamics. Many thanks to Miss Bianca & Alaska del Needles for their sage wisdom & guidance (ily). Scream about Shalaska with me on my sideblog, @artificial-jazz <3

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NCT fic: Misinterpretations - Jaehyun Angst

Request from @jaehyunfromamerica : “If you’re still accepting scenario requests, may I request a jaehyun angst? About anything really I just want my heart ripped into pieces and then put back together with a happy ending”

A/N: Sorry this is so late! This is my first time writing an NCT fic, and my first time writing romantic angst. BUt ahhhh~ I absolutely loved it. Please remember to give me feedback and constructive criticism guys ♥

Originally posted by cherryassbomb

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archiveofourown.org
Revelations - Chapter 7 - performativezippers - Supergirl (TV 2015) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 7: Superfriends

The next time they see each other, Maggie apologizes for overstepping, but Alex waves her off.

“You’re fine, Sawyer,” she says.

They’re playing a round of pool when Alex’s phone rings. She answers it, assuming that it’s work, but it’s just Kara (not Supergirl) wanting to chat.

“Can I call you back later? I’m out.”

“Oooh,” Kara’s voice is instantly teasing in the way only little sisters can pull off. “With Maaaaaggie?”

Alex rolls her eyes. “Yes, with Maggie. I’ll call you later.”

Alex’s eyes dart over to Maggie and she gives her apologetic look. Maggie just grins at her, full dimple.

“Wait! Invite her to game night!”

“Uh, no way.”

“What! Why not!”

“Because Maggie doesn’t need to spend her precious free time watching you destroy every good relationship in your life because you’re a sore loser at Monopoly.”

Maggie laughs out loud at that.

“Okay, well then, how about for a drink at Noonans? I want to meet her, like, as Kara, and I’m sure the boys do too!”

Alex has learned the hard way to be wary when Kara is this excited. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kara.”

“Pleeeease, Alex? You can’t see me but I’m doing the pout AND the puppy eyes!”

And Alex laughs despite herself. “The pout AND the puppy eyes, huh?”

“Yeah, hold on, I’m taking a picture.”

“You’re ridiculous, I have to go.”

“Aleeeeeeex.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll ask her. Call you later bye.” Alex hangs up, cutting off the sounds of Kara starting to celebrate.

“I thought you said you were immune to the pout,” Maggie teases, grinning.

“Yeah, well,” Alex shrugs a little, trying to push down how much she likes making Maggie smile like that, how much she likes having a private joke with her. “I never said anything about the puppy eyes. Those things are deadly.”

“Well good thing you’re a world-class bioengineer then, huh? Maybe you should be cooking up a vaccine.”

And Alex’s heart is stuttering because Maggie remembered the stupid detail that she’s a bioengineer and she called Alex world-class and she’s still smiling like that.

And then Alex’s phone chings and she checks it and she laughs, and she tilts the screen to show Maggie, who obligingly takes a couple steps closer until she’s right up against Alex so she can see it as well.

It’s a picture of Kara, a close-up selfie, and she’s indeed pouting and giving the puppy eyes, and she’s helpfully labeled each in a messy hot pink scrawl.

And Maggie laughs too, taking the phone out of Alex’s hand to look at it more closely, and Alex wonders, for the first time, if watching anyone big sister Kara would feel this good, or if it’s a Maggie thing.


Alex stays true to her word and she invites Maggie for a drink with Kara and the boys at Noonan’s, and Maggie looks like she’s going to say no, but Alex puts on a small pout of her own and shows her the picture of Kara again, and Maggie says yes.

She’s been feeling a giddy nervousness Resonating down the bond the past couple of days, and for once it’s actually matching up with how she feels herself. She’s nervous for Maggie to meet her friends, to meet Kara (as her sister, not her super-powered running buddy). Maggie has been this kind of private thing so far, someone that Alex saw on her own and kept separate from the rest of her life. She hasn’t had a friend that was just hers in years and years. It feels weird to be sharing her.

But it’s happening. Kara has already set up a group text, blasting everyone (except Maggie) with emojis and reminding them to pretend that she is a fully normal totally human just regular ole person. In response, Alex simply sends a photo that she always keeps on her phone of a thirteen-year-old Kara covered, head to toe, in spaghetti sauce, with the caption “normal? fat chance.”

But the Thursday they decide on, Alex’s soulmate’s mood sharply tilts. A low-grade panic is Resonating through her, making it hard to focus all day at the DEO. It doesn’t feel like fear, it feels more like, a big presentation, maybe? Like he’s (she’s?) panicking and trying to gear himself (herself?) up for a big event.

Alex hopes it goes well (and ends soon).

Maggie comes to Noonan’s a little late, and Alex doesn’t blame her. She seems nervous, but she’s covering it up well. She looks beautiful, like she always does. She strides up the table, and if it’s missing a little of her usual swagger, she’s still got a bravado about her that Alex envies. She’s wearing her usual black leather jacket, the one with the diamond stitching on the shoulders, and dark jeans and boots with a little more of a heel than normal. Alex wonders if she’d been expecting to stand all night and was trying to give herself a little more height. It’s kind of an adorable thought.

She gamely shakes hands with Winn and James, and offers her hand to Kara, but Kara makes a squawking noise and pulls her in for a very uncomfortable side-hug. “Sorry,” Kara says with a grin, letting go of Maggie and gesturing for her to take the empty stool between Winn and Alex, “I’m a hugger.”

“Sorry about her,” Alex murmurs to Maggie, leaning towards her.

But Maggie just grins at her, full dimple, as she gets settled on her stool. “No,” she says, her voice soft and private, just for Alex. “She’s cute. I mean, you described her as a puppy, and…wow.”

Alex grins at her. “I know, right?”

Maggie nods. “So much more accurate than I expected.”

And Alex laughs and Maggie laughs and Alex feels really, really good. And if she were paying attention, she’d notice that the Resonating panic is fading – but she isn’t.

They shoot the shit for a little while, Alex and Winn talking shop about the DEO and Kara and James regaling Maggie with stories about Cat Grant.

Maggie goes up to the bar to buy the second round – everyone had protested but she’d threatened to arrest them all for obstruction of justice and they all know that’s not what it means but it was so cute and she’s clearly trying so hard that they let her – and a girl tentatively comes up to her and chats with her for a couple minutes.

Kara shoots a concerned look at Alex, but Alex shakes her head, just the tiniest bit. It’s not Maggie, so there’s no point in dwelling on how shitty she suddenly feels.

The girl writes something down on a napkin and hands it to Maggie and Maggie puts it in her back pocket and Alex resolutely does not look at Kara, and focuses on coming up with the best hair related insult she can use on Winn tomorrow at the staff meeting. It’s not Maggie, so it doesn’t matter if Maggie calls the girl and takes her out and kisses her and marries her.

Maggie comes back, expertly handling all five beers at once. She distributes them, returns to her own bar stool, swings her leg over it, sits, and pulls the napkin out of her back pocket. “I’m not sure if you’re single,” she says, holding it out to James, “but the lovely young woman in the red shirt over there sends her compliments.”

And Alex feels like an elephant (or maybe her extremely heavy alien sister) has just climbed off her chest. It’s not Maggie, but they’re all here for her to get to know Alex’s friends, so it just would have been rude for her to be picking up girls, that’s all. Kara relaxes too, like she’s no longer trying to keep herself from accidentally frying the table with her eyeballs.


[Keep reading on AO3 or FF.net]

Co-Writing At Night

“Are you still up?”

Helga cringed at the sleep voice echoing down the hallway. She meant to turn out the light in the dining room, but her laptop provided only so much illumination, and sometimes the strain on her eyes made them water. She squeaked an answer out, hoping her husband wouldn’t hear, and stumble his way back to bed. She just needed a few more minutes…or hours, if her co-writer would allow her as much.

“Honey, you have to get some sleep-”

“I know, I know; I just…if I can get this chapter right, and figure out how to segway into chapter twenty-one…or maybe I should split it, and just pick up the next scene in-”

Arnold dropped his chin, and Helga knew she would have to pack it in for the night, sooner than she wanted, and hit the hay. His altruistic nature was almost entirely unaltered from their childhood, and for the past ten months or so, her health took precedence over everything.

“You. Have. To. Rest. Your body is still healing,” he argued, taking a seat next to her.

“My body is fine,” Helga fought the urge to let her eyes fall closed at the warm hand that rubbed circles on her back. She was tired; she could admit that to herself. She was awake more than she liked, her body, as strong as it proved itself a week prior was constantly changing, and she had little free time to relax her mind. When she felt a wave of inspiration come over her, she sat at her dining room table and got to work. Her cowriter was flexible, and the two wrote later into the night than she initially intended.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: Emily helping Alison during her morning sickness or hormonal Alison

this was a little vague so it’s a bit shorter, but I hope you enjoy it either way! 

It had been a long,long day. Preparing students for exams, meeting and reassuring parents and helping overly emotional teens on top of being 7 months pregnant was taking it’s toll on Alison. All she wanted to do was to go home, curl up in bed with Emily and fall asleep to the sounds of a crappy movie on and her girlfriends soft breathing. Each tick of the clock was like a padlock being unlocked inside of her so that eventually she was free to relax. It also didn’t help that it was unbelievably hot outside, and by having to stick to the strict dress code Alison was practically a puddle of sweat at this late stage of the day. As the end of her final lesson drew nearer, her heart beat increased with anticipation. When the bell finally echoed around the corridors, the strongest sense of freedom raced through her, which was only amplified by a light tap on her classroom door.

“Come in” She called, not bothering check who it was first, though she could tell the second she walked in because the room practically lit up after she entered.

“Em” She breathed, jumping up from her chair and falling into her embrace. “I missed you” She said, taking in her after-practise smell of chlorine that she had grown so used to. Emily chuckled softly, kissing the top of her forehead.

“I missed you too, babe” She said, pulling away from her and sitting on top of one of the desks. “how are you feeling?” Ali rolled her eyes, walking back over to her and taking her hand in her own, pouting a little.

“Rubbish” She admitted, cringing a little. Emily frowned, taking her hand to her mouth and kissing each finger softly.

“I’m sorry” She said, guilt seeping through her. “you wanna stop for cheeseburgers on the way home?” She asked with a grin, knowing that they were always guaranteed to put Ali in a better mood. Ali pursed her lips, biting the inside of her cheek.

“No” she said a little abruptly, turning back around to arrange some papers on her desk. Em jumped off the table, concerned for her sudden change in mood.

“Okay…” she said, not wanting to upset her now “how about we go home and we eat each ot-”
“Em!” Ali cut her off, yet not being able to hide the obvious smirk on her face “that’s not gonna fix this” She told her, piling some folders into her bag to distract herself. Emily sighed heavily, prancing back over to her and pulling her close to her (as close as they could get with a baby in between them) tucking a little strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear.

“Fix what, Ali?” She asked, fearful. Ali shook her head, resting her forehead against Emily’s and sighing so that her warm but ragged breath immersed itself over Em’s skin.

“I’m so tired” Ali whispered, her voice underlying with shame “I don’t wanna do this any more” Emily could practically feel the weariness coming off her voice, and it broke her heart. She looked down at her, placing her hand on her cheek and pulling it towards her that she couldn’t avoid eye contact.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry” Emily said, feeling heat rising underneath Alison’s skin “I wish I could do it for you” Ali shook her head again, curling into herself as a tear dropped from her eye. Emily closed her eyes briefly, hating to see Ali in pain even though, on a rational level, she knew this was just due to her hormones. She lightly brushed the tear away, placing her hand under her chin and tilting her head up so she could gently kiss her.

“I miss being normal” Ali mumbled as she pulled away  “I miss being sexy” That was when Emily lost it.

“Hey” She said, placing one hand on either shoulder and squeezing “you are the most beautiful woman to walk this planet probably, like, ever- okay? You always will be” Ali blushed slightly but said nothing, more tears falling from her eyes, staining her cheeks. Emily enveloped her into a bear hug, resting her head on top of Ali’s as she cried onto her sweater. “It’s okay, baby” She hushed “it’s gonna be over so soon. And we’re gonna have a beautiful little baby, okay?” She promised her, holding her tighter as the tears continued to flow, not ever wanting to let go. “what can I do? Ali, tell me what to do” She begged, worried because it had been a while since a word had escaped her mouth and wanting to do something to make a difference.

“Nothing” Ali sniffed “just hold me” She asked, her voice thick and her eyes becoming puffy from the tears. So Emily did just that, she held her closer and tighter than she had in a long while and prayed that it was all going to be over soon.

“I love you” She said as Ali was reduced to shaky breaths, the tears slowly dissolving.

“I love you too” She muttered back “so much” And so they stood there, in the centre of Alison’s classroom, holding onto each other as Emily waited patiently for the mood swing to disperse, her want- her need- for the day their baby to arrive, becoming even stronger than it was before.

Love or Lust 💋ReidxReader

Summary: reader & reid are best friends, reader doesn’t believe in love. Spencer shows her what love is??? IDK FLUFFY SMUT.
Warnings
: THE FLUFFIEST SMUT TO END ALL FLUFF SMUT…. maybe lmao. 
i wanted to write some more loving/sensitive smut but i have like… 0 reason so i made this one shot to satisfy my urges. nice. I SPENT A SHAMEFUL AMOUNT OF TIME WRITING THIS PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK LMFAO -Estelle🌟


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Pairing: Pharmercy

Warning: Fluff without Plot (sfw but not safe from cavities)


Outside the security exit, Fareeha rolled on the balls of her feet. She checked her phone for the time, lips thinned as it changed to the next minute. Just as she was putting it back into her pocket, it vibrated with a text.

Just landed.

As safe as flying was supposed to be, the tiny ball of anxiety in Fareeha’s heart eased. She texted back, Okay. I am here.

She put the phone in her pocket, only for it to vibrate again a minute later.

Ugh, they’re moving so slow. I can’t wait to see you.

No need to rush, I’m not going anywhere :)

Angela texted back a series of hearts that made Fareeha smile. She slid the phone into her pocket and tried to control the adoring expression she’d been making at it.

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Bedtime Songs

Words: 772
Rating: Fluff, all audiences
Pairing: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Summary: Phil records Dan singing to their daughter Delia. A ridiculous try new things thing.

Read on AO3!

~~

Dan loved to sing. He’d never record a cover of a song for his channel, oh God no, but he loved singing. He’d belt his favorite songs in the car with his friends, in the shower. He’d hum classical tunes, the occasional One Direction song—shut up, Infinity was a good song—as he’d edit his videos. But his favorite time to sing was when he put his and Phil’s daughter Delia down to rest.

“Do I have to nap, Daddy?” Delia asked, pouting up at her Dad with her chocolate brown eyes, similar to the look Dan used when he wanted to get out of going to do the shopping. Dan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Of course you do, Dilly,” he said softly, tucking her into her bed with the quilt that Louise and Zoe made for Dan and Phil. “You wanna be well rested for the video you, Teddy, Papa and I are gonna film later tonight, right?”

Delia’s ginger curls bounced as she nodded her head, her eyes bright as she thought of the fun she and her family were gonna have later that night. Dan nodded, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. He stood up to walk out of the bedroom and sighed.

“Daddy!” Delia called out. Dan turned on his heel.

“What is it, love?” He asked, running his hand through his hair.

“We didn’t sing our song.” sSe pouted, clutching her own teddy bear, already patching from the toddler’s love. Dan gasped.

“Did we? Oh no!” He said, walking back over to sit on the bed next to Delia. She beamed, a gap where she’d lost her two front teeth.

“Silly Daddy!” She grinned. Dan smiled.

“Ready?” He asked. She nodded. “Here we goooo!”

“I like bananas in the sunshine, sunshine, sunshine bananas. I like bananas, I like bananas on the moon, moon moon moon.” They sang together. Delia giggled and clapped her hands, her laugh bouncing down the corridor and into the lounge. Phil looked up and smiled. He took out his phone and followed the sounds.

He peeked into Delia’s room, smiling at the sight: Dan’s hand ran through their daughter’s curls gently, her smile as bright as the morning sun. He pressed record on his phone. His heart twisted as he saw the two loves of his life. Dan was a wonderful father.

“Again Daddy, again!” She cheered. Phil smiled from behind his phone.

“I like apples, I like apples at a picnic, apples, apples at a picnic. I like apples, I like apples just at home,” Dan sang in a whisper. “I like peaches, I like peaches in the starlight, starlight. I like peaches, I like peaches on their own.” He hummed alone. Delia laid down, her eyes fluttering shut as she soon fell asleep to the sound of Dan’s melodic voice. Dan leaned down, pressing a kiss to Delia’s hair once more.

“I love you, my Little Bear,” he whispered, seeing her smile softly as she hugged her bear. Phil’s heart skipped beats as he watched the sight. He stopped recording and ran back to Dan’s couch crease, starting to upload the little video to his side channel.

Dan made his way back out to the lounge, sitting next to his husband. Phil smiled at Dan, failing to hide the love and joy he felt from watching Dan put Delia down to rest.

“I knew you were there,” Dan said simply, placing his Mac back on his lap. Phil scoffed half-heartedly.

“What? Me? No, I would never,” Phil’s cheekbones flushed in embarrassment. Dan played with the engagement ring on his left finger.

“Shut up, I love you you spork.” He smiled softly, leaning over to kiss Phil gingerly on the lips.

“I love you too.” Phil cupped Dan’s cheek, nuzzling their noses together. “I may have recorded it and uploaded it to YouTube.” Phil gnawed on his lip, looking up into Dan’s eyes. His chest was unnervingly tight as he awaited Dan’s response—Dan had never sung in front of an audience, much less their eight million subscribers.

“I get our good pillow tonight. And you’re on baby duty.” Dan playfully glared at his fiancé.

“That’s fair. I thought you’d be angry, but you and Little Bear, you looked so calm. I had to.” Phil glanced over at his computer: Upload Complete.

“You’re lucky I love you a lot.” Dan couldn’t stop the smile on his face. Little did they know that small video would surpass all of their Philisnotonfire videos in a matter of days. Neither man could argue with the joy it brought to everyone.

First Times With The Ramirezs

A little something I’ve been poking around at, a collection of mini-stories related to the relationship between Reader / Natalia / Nevada.
All are before the beginning of my Don’t Call Me That series. 

Included in this go:
First Time Meeting Natalia
First Time Meeting Nevada
First Sleepover After Father Left
First Boyfriend
First Time Feeling Nevada’s Knuckles

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Winter Berries - A (surprise) Butterfly Bog drabble

Marianne vs. Fruit in the Dark Forest

(surprise mostly because it snuck up on me lmao. A bit late for the solstice but still a lovely, winter ficlet)


Of all things about winter that surprised Marianne, it was perhaps the food that surprised her the most.

“I thought everything in the forest… died in winter,” she said, looking over the spread before her. 

“Things aren’t dead just because they lose their color, Tough Girl,” the Bog King said dryly, already serving himself. 

She snorted softly. They’d had this discussion many times throughout the autumn and while Marianne could appreciate their differing opinions, she wasn’t sure she’d ever understand his. The greys and browns of the forest in winter… the frosty waste that was once the flowers of the fields… none of that felt particularly alive.

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Morning

Lena woke up to the sound of her alarm ringing. She stirred and turned it off.

She felt something was missing, and it all came to her when she realized the other side of the bed was empty.

Her door opened and Kara entered with her bed hair. She was wearing Lena’s white polo shirt unbuttoned from her neck to her chest. She was a sight to behold and it took her breath away when she smiled brightly at her.

She was holding a cup of coffee and placed it on Lena’s bed side table.

She leaned in and kiss Lena’s head. Never have she been treated that way. Usually she will send a girl home she slept with once shes done with them. But with Kara it was different, she felt scared but she never let it show.

“I’ve made you coffee. Im sorry but I have nothing else to wear so I borrowed your clothes. Is that alright?”

Lena sat down. “Its fine…” biting her own lips. Kara smirked at her. And noticed the time on Lena’s clock.

She suddenly panicked and starts picking up her clothes on the floor.

“Damn! Im late!” Kara was searching for something and gave Lena a shy smile.

Lena grinned and use her lips to point at Kara’s undergarment on top of the expensive lampshade.

Kara’s face turned red and hurriedly took the black laced panty and rushed towards the bathroom.

A giggle came out of Lena’s lips.

When Kara came back she was all dress up. She stops and smiled at Lena.

“What?” the green eyed girl asked.

“Youre… happy. I made you happy!” she jump on the bed and quickly kiss Lena’s lips.

She then run towards the door and before she left she look over her shoulder. She saw Lena’s lips trying to surpress the smile on her lips to the point of pouting.

Kara bit her own lips and gave the other girl a wink before she leave.

Lena placed her hand on her chest. She felt her beating heart, and at that moment she let go and let her self feel the joy of living.

For the first time, she let herself feel.