Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
description: time has passed since clark and y/n broke up, but when y/n comes home to smallville for the holidays, her feelings spill over and clark is the only one who can hold her through it.
trigger warnings: angst, anxiety, emotional burnout, past breakup, second chance romance, etc. read at your own risk.
word count: 5.5k
Metropolis, Kansas
December 19th, 2006
Icy kisses peppered your cheeks, numb and glacial. Snow fell from the white sky, clinging to your lashes. The red scarf around your neck did very little at keeping you warm, but you didn’t complain. No, you loved this weather. The first snowfall of the year brought nothing but peace and quiet—you reveled in it. Fluffy white snow covered the sidewalk as you walked toward your car, parked on the side of the road in front of the dorms at Metropolis University.
You’d been finishing up some final papers for your literature classes, and stayed until the last day. Some students lingered behind, but for the most part, everyone was already home—off celebrating the holidays with their families, warm and tender. Up until the very end of the semester, you’d been studying and working to keep your grades where they were—at the top of your class, ahead of the curve. Your dorm room had suffered a tsunami of empty coffee cups and crumpled papers overflowing the trash bin, ink stains lingered like bruises on your hands from constant writing.
The pressure of endless studying weighed heavier on you than you were willing to let yourself recognize. You pushed and pushed, rarely ever giving yourself a moment of respite. You convinced yourself you didn’t need it, didn’t want it, that you must keep going or you’d have failed. But classes were over and the year was coming to a close. So, as you stood before your old, paint-chipped car, you exhaled. Your breath clouded before you, like smoke passing through the space between your dry cracked lips. Forcing your shoulders to relax, you unlocked the car door and slipped inside.
The air wasn’t much warmer inside but as soon as you turned the key in the ignition and blasted the heat—the hot air began to thaw the thin layer of ice that glazed over the supple skin of your cheeks, no longer glacial and numb, but rosy and torrid. You pressed your gloved thumb over the radio and flipped through the stations before settling on the one with the least amount of static, playing old Christmas classics.
Driving back to Smallville was about three hours—maybe four given all the snow and holiday traffic. It’d been a while since you’d been back home, Thanksgiving was the last weekend you spent there, but you’d be home for at least three weeks, before the spring semester. Smallville was home. The best and safest place you’d ever known. But the closer you got to those snow-covered farm fields, the deeper your heart sunk into your stomach.
Clark would be home too, with Martha and Jonathan. There was no way you’d be able to evade him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him, but he brought back so many memories. You’d been best friends with him since he was adopted, you went through every stage of life together. And as you grew up, things got more complicated—an amalgamation of deeper, yet overwrought emotions. Clark became your first crush, your first kiss, your first love.
With all that, he eventually became your first heartbreak… which hurt all the worse since he built a very special home in the deepest, most confined part of your heart. It wasn’t an ill parting, no, it was just bad timing—you needed distance, space to find yourself and he wanted a shared future.
And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t miss him. Of course you missed him. He’s Clark Kent, one would have to be the stupidest person on earth not to miss someone like that—kind, respectful, and not at all overprotective… okay, maybe a little overprotective, but he gives you space whenever you need it.
“Stop,” you muttered to yourself, tightening your grip around the wheel. You shook the thoughts of Clark from your mind—as best as you could anyway. It was impossible. That vampire-esque smile of his resurfaced from the torrent of memories. You cursed yourself for having let yourself think about him. The relationship didn’t work, you can’t dwell on it anymore. Clark’s probably over it, so why bother reminiscing?
You turned right, down a very quiet street, concealed by snow-covered foliage and expansive wheat fields. You’d never taken this road before, but something in you yearned for a longer drive home. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to face Clark, maybe it was because you were too nervous to see him. Whatever it was, you proceeded down the freshly paved and salted backroad, listening to the Christmas songs that ebbed and flowed in a sea of radio static.
Branches extended over the lampposts, catching snow on the frosted metal. It was beautiful, the long way home, quiet and lonesome—but not forlorn. It might’ve added another half hour to your drive, but that time settled over you softly. It gave you more room to breathe before you finally passed the Smallville sign.
Your eyes flicked from either side of the road, admiring the snow over the farmland. You remembered how you used to work for Kent Farm, it was the best job you’d ever had. The animals, the open fields, even the pungent odor of the pig pen—you loved it all. You drove past the Kent’s big yellow house and played tug-o-war inside your mind to fight the urge to look, to linger, to park the car outside the gate and run through the front door to greet them all with hugs and Merry Christmas’s.
But you kept driving. Not far from the Kent’s was your childhood home. You pulled into the long driveway and cut the engine, pulling your rusted key out of the ignition. Stepping out of the car, you breathed in the snowy air as your mother stood under the flickering porch light.
“Hi, honey! How was the drive?” she asked, dressed in a wool sweater and jeans, a Christmas apron draped over her neck. Flour spattered her face and hands, she was baking—always baking during this time of year. You could almost smell the freshly baked cookies from outside.
“Not bad,” you replied, forcing a tiny smile as you pulled out your bags from the trunk. You lugged out a paper bag of horribly wrapped presents, clutching it under your arm as you made your way to the front door, climbing up the steps and careful not to drop anything.
Your mother pressed a sweet kiss to your cold cheek and held the storm door open for you. Before you slipped inside your warm, childhood home, you looked back at the Kent’s big yellow house down the road. Maybe it was just in your head, but you could’ve sworn you saw Clark and Martha through the windows—their faces lit by the colored Christmas lights, over the counter baking pies. Martha Kent made the best pies.
It took a herd of oxen to pull your eyes away, but you did and stepped into your childhood home. It was decorated as it always was during the holidays. The walls were covered with your artwork from elementary school, some of which you drew yourself and Clark in. You avoided looking at them for too long. The kitchen smelled of a bakery with the aroma of peppermint chocolate cookies wafting through the air.
You greeted the rest of your family before placing the wrapped presents under the tree. Your mother stood behind the counter, rolling more cookie dough into tiny balls then placing them onto a baking sheet. Taking the rest of your bags, you wandered from the living room to the kitchen. As you were about to turn to ascend the staircase, your mother stopped you.
“You know, Martha is putting together a Christmas party at the Talon,” she started, keeping her eyes down on the flour-covered counter. You waited for her to go on, eyes blank but heart pounding. “She could use some help setting up. Why don’t you go down there later? Chloe and Lana will be there,” she suggested and lifted her eyes to meet your gaze, with a softness in her voice that couldn’t be replaced by anyone or anything.
You hesitated, dropping your eyes to the hardwood floor. Your head suddenly felt heavy, like a torrent of emotions slamming against the stone dam you built to block them from spilling out. There was always the chance that Clark wouldn’t be there and you didn’t want the anxiety to ruin your winter break. And would it be so bad if you did see him?
Shaking the thoughts from your mind, you drew a breath and looked at your mother, who stood expectantly.
“Sure, I’m just gonna put my stuff upstairs and take a shower,” you finally said and turned toward the staircase, but not before you caught your mother’s beaming smile.
.
The Talon was locked, but through the windows you could see Lana, Chloe, and Martha decorating the coffee house as though it were something straight out of the North Pole. They didn’t see you right away and you lingered in that liminal space—peering in on something beautifully sentient, something whole and warm.
You suddenly felt out-of-body, like you weren’t really there, but you were. You watched as Lana placed a wreath on the wall over the espresso machine, you saw Chloe placing center pieces of evergreen and cranberry on each table, and Martha wrapped garland over the railing. It was like a stop motion picture, something you wished to be a part of.
When you and Clark came to a fork in the road together, you had taken different paths, and ever since, you’d felt like an outsider peering into the snow globe of Smallville. That couldn’t be further from the truth, but try convincing yourself that and see how far you wind up getting.
Chloe was the first to see you. Her smile was big and toothy—genuine and real—as she dropped one of the centerpieces from her thin hands and scurried to the door. She unlocked it quickly and pulled you inside. It was terribly warm.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so happy to see you!” She wrapped you in her arms, squeezing the breath out of you. Laughing softly, you slung your arms around her torso and drew in her scent of lavender vanilla perfume.
“Hey, Y/N/N! When did you get home?” Martha smiled from the banister.
“Just this morning,” you replied warmly, pulling back from Chloe’s strong arms.
“We were just talking about you.” Lana approached with a hot mug of chai in her small hands, and a friendly smile across her glossy lips.
You embraced them all before Lana handed you the mug. You held it between your frigid fingers and thanked her before sipping it—she always made your tea just the way you liked it. Slightly strong, with a perfect balance of sugar and spice.
“Lana, I don’t know how you do it, but you always make the best chai,” you mumbled with a sigh of relief—your shoulders relaxing with each warm sip sliding down your throat.
She laughed, that sweet Lana Lang laugh.
“My mom said you guys might need some help setting up for the Christmas party and I wanted to come to see you anyway. So, what can I do?” you asked, placing the half-empty mug on a nearby table.
“You can help me with stringing lights around the garland, it takes me forever to get them untangled,” Martha said with a thin smile.
“Perfect,” you said with a grin.
.
The decorations looked beautiful—garland was strung to and fro, lights dangled from the ceilings and up the pillars, illuminating the coffee house. You were adjusting a red bow on the wreath outside the Talon’s doors when Chloe came back from the market with a paper bag filled with cups, plates, and extra utensils.
“It looks great,” she chimed.
You stepped back and felt the corner of your lips curve into a small grin.
“It was more you guys than me,” you replied and faced her—your breath clouding in the winter air.
“Oh come on, don’t be like that. You helped a lot,” she insisted.
You blinked toward the wreath—simple, but decorated with silver and gold ornaments.
“I was meaning to ask how your semester was. We didn’t really get to see each other much,” Chloe said, tilting her head to the side just slightly.
“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” you exhaled. “I was just busy, I guess.”
“Y/N/N,” she gently urged.
You met her light eyes and pressed your lips together. “Chlo, I really am sorry. I’ve been having a rough year and I know that’s no excuse because you’ve always been there for me—”
“Hey,” Chloe whispered softly, dropping the paper bag onto a wicker chair under the awning. She reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “I’m not upset with you, I’ve just been worried is all. Every time I did see you on campus, you were either buried in a book or looked too exhausted to hold a conversation. And I never saw you in the dining hall either. I’m not upset that you haven’t spent time with me, I just want to make sure you’re alright.”
You drew a short breath and for a moment the cool air felt nice in your lungs. It was like a plunge into a frozen lake—how alive it would make you feel, even if only for a moment.
There was a long silence.
“I’ll be okay,” you finally said, your voice sounding foreign to your ears.
Chloe didn’t buy it at first. Not that you were trying to sell it to her, maybe you were selling it to yourself.
“I’m just… tired,” you breathed.
Chloe nodded, understanding washed over her countenance. “Well, tonight you’ll be able to relax. Everyone will be here, you can enjoy yourself with some eggnog and gingerbread cookies.”
A soft laugh escaped your lips, and Chloe smiled before pulling you into a tight hug.
“Thanks, Chlo,” you whispered into her short, blonde hair.
“Of course, Y/N/N.” She pulled back and rubbed your shoulders. You opened the door for her as she grabbed the paper bag from the wicker and both of you slipped inside. The air was warmer than earlier. That was a bit strange.
And then you realized why.
Clark Kent stood by the counter, talking to Lana and Martha. His back was broad and his height was towering. You knew it was him without having to see his face. It was the sound of his voice, soft and gentle. It was his hand movements, controlled and infrequent. It was his hair, dark and tousled. It was that blue sweater and the subtle flex of his jaw.
Your heart sank into the chasm of your stomach and you halted in your tracks. You flicked your gaze to Chloe, who met your eyes sympathetically. Her arched brows were furrowed, her lips pressed together. Without uttering a single word, she understood.
“I’ll see you tonight,” you whispered to her and left the Talon—with the stillness and lithe of a serpent.
.
Okay, so maybe you were a coward for running out of the Talon like that. The feeling gnawed at you like maggots over a carcass. Clark wasn’t just an ex-lover, he was your best friend. No matter how awkward it might be to see him after the way the two of you ended things, you couldn’t avoid him forever. There was a part of you that didn’t even want to, but you were terrified of looking into those light, alluring eyes and melting to the floor.
You had a gift for him that was sitting under the tree, staring back at you as you scrutinized it as though it might give you the answers to a question you were too afraid to voice.
“You coming, honey? We’re loading up the truck.” Your mother’s voice slipped into your ears like a nostalgic memory resurfacing from the deepest parts of your mind.
You nodded, but didn’t look at her—eyes still locked with the red and green wrapping paper. “I’ll be there a little bit later.”
She hesitated, but eventually said, “Okay,” and left you alone.
When the last members of your family left the house, and the front door latched shut, you broke. Tears, hot and searing, fell down your face leaving trails on your rosy cheeks. It shouldn’t have been hurting like this, not when the air was quiet and not when the Christmas lights were glimmering. There were so many things racing through your mind, but the one that lingered at the forefront was that you wanted Clark.
When you’d made the decision to walk a different path—alone—you broke your own heart. Clark was there, ready to love you and shower you with a shared life, but you were too scared, too guarded… too broken. But there was an ache in you, a quiet ache that bloomed through pain and loneliness, morphing into longing. Like the first flower of spring.
Your chest was heavy and your head twinged, but you reached for Clark’s present anyway. You pushed yourself off the living room floor and rushed toward the door—almost forgetting your red scarf that hung over the coat rack.
Adrenaline ran through your veins, unlike anything you’ve felt in years. It was alive and real. You slipped into your car and sped off toward the Talon. The tears dried against your face, leaving behind thin white streaks as you gripped the wheel tightly. Your heart was pounding, so hard it might’ve burst from your chest.
With a jerk of the wheel, you turned left and pulled up across the street from the Talon. The street was packed with cars and trucks. Lex’s Porsche was there and the Kent’s red pick-up was there too. You saw your parents’ truck parked not far from your own, but—through the windows—you could see them inside. You could see everyone inside, laughing and drinking. The lights from the lampposts flickered and snow began to fall, melting into the asphalt.
Suddenly, you felt nauseous and like you might pass out. Did I eat enough protein today? you thought to yourself. Shaking your head, you grabbed Clark’s present from the passenger side and locked your car before crossing the street. You stopped before the sidewalk and peered in through the glass. You saw Lana, Chloe, and Lois sitting around a table with mugs of coffee—the steam coiling in the air around them. You saw your dad talking to Jonathan Kent by the bar. You saw Martha and your mom, near the tree. Pete was there too… God, you hadn’t seen him in a long time.
“You just gonna stand and stare or are you going in?” Lex provoked with a smirk you could hear from miles away.
“Hi, Lex.” You turned to meet him, and there he stood in all his Luthor glory.
He offered a thin smile and approached with one step. “Is there a reason you’re not inside already?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied with a smug grin.
Lex chuckled. “Well, I was enjoying the quiet for a minute.”
“Maybe I was too,” you said.
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re anxious to go in because Clark is in there and, let me guess, that poorly wrapped gift is for him.”
You parted your lips to speak, but released only a huff instead and pulled open the Talon’s glass door. Lex’s laugh was fading as you maneuvered through the crowd, searching for a tall figure with a pair of intoxicating light eyes. Your chest tightened with apprehension.
What am I doing? I can’t just walk up to him like nothing happened. It’ll be awkward and I don’t do awkward very well. I gotta find Chloe, she’ll know—
“Y/N/N?”
That voice. Oh, why did it bring you to your knees? Why was it the softest thing in the world? Why did it feel like a song you could listen to over and over and over and over again?
For a moment, the world stopped spinning, voices receded like the tide into a muffled stillness, and the air grew torrid—sweat gathered at your nape and an uncomfortable heat settled over your chest. You swallowed thickly and, with great effort, turned around.
And there he was. Clark Kent stood tall, wearing that unmistakable red flannel and denim jacket, with a thin smile plastered across his face. One that spoke of gauche tenderness. His eyes glistened in reflection of the Christmas lights and his pupils grew just a few sizes bigger as he took you in with his sweet, sultry gaze.
You hadn’t realized your jaw fell agape and your eyes welled with tears you refused to let fall. But Clark saw through your cracks and crevices, he knew you… and you knew him.
Mustering what strength you had left, you extended the sloppily wrapped gift before him. “Merry Christmas, Clark,” you whispered, your voice wavering and hands trembling.
His pink lips parted and his eyes flicked up and down—from the wrapping paper to you, back and forth, like a grandfather clock. It felt like centuries before he took a step toward you. Your heart leapt, not with fright, but with too much suspense than you knew what to do with. You wanted to bolt, to make a run for it through the back doors, but you knew Clark and he was much faster. And you were in the thick of it now—fleeing was not an option.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, so soft and irresolute. He always left room for you to say no, to turn away and make your own decision. He never pressured anything from you and that was your favorite thing about him.
Your mouth suddenly became dry and you brought the present back close to your person. “Sure.”
Clark led the way through many bodies, like a maze he knew by heart. Your eyes lingered on his back and his beautifully tousled hair. How you used to run your fingers through those strands and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears until you both got too tired to stay awake.
The memories were snuffed out like a flame beneath a rainstorm, as the night December air grazed your cheeks with a harsh tenderness that words couldn’t quite describe. The back door of the Talon latched shut behind the two of you. Flickering lamppost light illuminated the icy, snow-covered alley.
“What are we doing out here?” you inquired, not demanding just curious.
“I thought we could take a walk,” Clark said, his throat bobbing. “Just to catch up.”
The two of you held each other’s gaze, quiet and torpid—like an old battery taking forever to charge after having been dormant for too long.
“Clark,” you exhaled, your breath clouding in the frigid air.
“Y/N.” He took a step closer.
You didn’t know why, but you had nothing else to say. Clark looked down at you expectantly, not pushing or probing, but waiting.
“Do you wanna go to the loft?” he whispered the question. If he voiced it too loud it could trigger an avalanche and he might lose you forever this time.
You nodded slowly and Clark offered the tiniest of smiles—one that showed his dimples and smile lines. You remember the way they felt beneath your fingertips when you’d trace them, so soft and warm. If you could’ve, you’d build a home inside them.
Clark turned his back to you and lowered his knees, squatting slightly.
“You’re kidding, right?” You almost laughed, but covered it up before the traitorous sound fell past your lips.
“No, hop on.”
You could hear his grin and this time, you didn’t fight your smile, as you climbed atop his back. His poorly wrapped Christmas present was secure under your arm as he sped off through the night.
There was a chance that everyone at the Talon would be wondering where the two of you went, but for some reason, you couldn’t care less.
.
It’d been too long since you’d been inside the Kent’s barn, you’d almost forgotten the smell of the hay bales and freshly sanded wood. Your stomach tightened as memories of your last conversation with Clark replayed in your mind on an endless loop. The way his hands dropped from your wet cheeks, how he stepped back, and let you go—because that’s what you asked for.
You had a bad habit of pulling away when things got too real, too vulnerable. And it was this moment, right here with Clark, where you realized just how foolish you were for walking away. But maybe you needed the space, maybe it was the best thing for you, and maybe Clark knew that.
The emotions must’ve been written all over your face because he looked back at you with those soft, puppy eyes that were filled with nothing but quiet understanding.
“I can hear you thinking,” Clark said, his soft-spoken voice melted you as if you were a pad of butter sitting beneath an unforgiving sun.
“We can’t just dance around it,” you whispered, easing down against the red couch beside him. Clark’s gift was sitting at your feet, lingering there.
“I’m not dancing.” He shook his head.
“Good because you suck at dancing anyway,” you snipped and he laughed.
The sound was beautiful, the best sound you heard in months. Better than any song that played through the static in your car radio.
When the laughter subsided, Clark looked at you with a look so intimate, you almost turned away—but, instead, you held his gaze. You didn’t want to turn away, you wanted to get lost in those ocean blues and fall into his arms for eternity. Life treated you with grace during your time away, but you wanted him now—the two of you together, existing side-by-side.
“I almost didn’t want to come home today,” you started, your eyes falling to the soft red cushions. “Not because I didn’t want to see everyone, of course I did, but I felt like an outsider. I wanted more than anything to be overjoyed about coming home, to Smallville, but the second I left my dorm, my stomach wouldn’t stop turning. I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if I crossed paths with you. I’ve never, in all my life of knowing you, been anxious to see you. You’re my best friend, you’ve always been my best friend, Clark. And when I passed your house on the way home, I felt guilty for not stopping in like normal and seeing your family before my own, like I’ve always done.”
You turned your gaze away from him now, your chest was tight and your hands shook with anxiety. “I mean, hell, I took the long way home!” You were pacing now and Clark listened, watching with tenderness. “I know I asked for space and I enjoyed having my space, for a time—but, Clark, you’ve been on my mind ever since I walked out those barn doors that night.”
At some point Clark stood up from the couch and was standing before you—you stopped pacing. Your eyes, red and teary with defeat, gazed up at his.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you said you never wanted to see me again, or if you told me you’ve moved on, but I’ve been carrying so much alone. Too much and you know how hard it is for me to open up, to unlock this casket around my feelings, but I want to. I wanna rip off the lock and key, toss them into a shredder and let you in. Because I don’t want to move through life without you, Clark. I can do it on my own, if you don’t want this, I’ll be fine—but I want you. I want your beautiful secrets and your optimism for humanity and your compassion for every—”
His large, warm hands over your icy cheeks stilled the word vomit spilling from your mouth. Your eyes, glazed with unshed tears, looked up at him, tracing the furrow in his brow. The pad of his thumb found its way to your bottom lip, lingering in that liminal space.
“Do you want me?” you whispered, voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he heard you.
“More than you know,” he answered. “I missed you so much.”
The stone dam inside you broke and tears spilled from your eyes, falling into Clark’s palms and between his thick fingers. You slipped your arms around his torso and buried your face into that red flannel of his. He embraced you so close and so warm, his strong arms draped around your shoulders, and his nose brushed against the side of your neck—breathing in your homey scent.
“My best friend,” he whispered, peppering kisses along the base of your neck.
A shutter ran through you, gentle and tender, but there all the same. His lips were warm as they trailed up to your jawline, over your tear-stained cheeks, the corner of your mouth, your nose, and finally your forehead. His kiss lingered there for longer, so sweet and real. You felt like you were running on air after spending months trudging through the flood of a raging tempest.
“You wanna sit with me?” Clark whispered, his voice slipping through the quiet.
The moonlight slipped through a break in the clouds and doused the two of you in a cool sort of warmth. Not frigid and not torrid, but perfectly balanced.
You nodded and the two of you moved to the couch—still close as you eased into the cushions.
“Can I give you your present now?” you asked, sitting up just enough to reach the gift at your feet. Clark didn’t take his eyes off you as he nodded. You placed it in his lap and waited.
When he didn’t move, you nudged his thigh with your knee.
“Right, sorry,” he chuckled and started unwrapping. You watched him with a glimmer in your irises as he held a special edition copy of Fahrenheit 451. It was white, with a match tucked into the 1 of 451, and along the binding was a striker strip.
Clark smiled, that famous vampire smile, and looked at you with a softness that spoke a language only the two of you understood.
“Thanks, Y/N/N,” he said admiringly and placed the book carefully on the low table before you. “I also have something for you too.”
“What?” You blinked, but Clark was already on his feet, nearing the small tree in the far corner of the loft. He pulled out a perfectly wrapped present beneath a dangling branch and wandered back to the couch. Easing down beside you, he placed it in your hands.
“What did you do?” you inquired, fighting a smile.
Clark only waited with a grin tugging at his lips.
With shaky fingers, you tore the wrapping off and unveiled a special edition copy of your favorite book. You traced the gilded title with your index finger and spent ages flipping through it—noting the font, the simple artistry of each page break, and the illustrated pages. It was the most beautiful special edition you’d ever seen.
“Where did you find this?” you exhaled.
Clark’s face flushed. “I made it.”
“You drew these?” you asked, eyes wide.
He laughed and shook his head. “No, I had a real artist do that part. I did everything else though.”
“But why?” You met his gaze, already on you—as though he were admiring a work of art; a portrait in an old museum or a sculpture in the middle of European village.
“Why?” he inquired with a head tilt.
There was a long silence.
“Because I care about you. I listen to you and the way you talk about this book like it’s part of that busy world inside your brain. It’s not just about the book though, Y/N/N. You do so much for other people, even when you don’t have to. I’ve seen you stretch yourself thin to do things for people. It’s not a fault, by any means, but I haven’t seen anyone cradle you the way you cradle the world. I tried—but your love for the world ran deeper than I ever knew. So, when I was looking for something to give you this year, I decided to make it with my own hands—so you can cradle something no one else has.”
Without breaking eye contact, you placed the book on the low table—right beside his—and brought your hands up to his face, the way he always did with you. His light, puppy eyes lingered on you, moving from your eyes, to your nose, and to your lips. The silence was peace, forgiving, and rapport. Your fingers ran through the strands of his dark, tousled hair—reveling in the softness you had missed so much. Slowly, very slowly, you leaned in and pressed a kiss just below his ear.
“I love you, Clark,” you whispered, your lips grazing his jawline.
Clark’s eyes fluttered closed and you could feel his breath hitch—just slightly. “I love you too, Y/N.”
.
a/n: happy holidays guys!!! i hope you enjoyed this very angsty clark kent fic. i didn't mean for it to get emotionally turbulent, that's just what happens with everything i write! looking back on 2025, i can say that it was the hardest year of my life so writing this brought me a lot of comfort. i hope it's done the same for you, if you made it to the end. thanks for all the support and i hope you have a happy and safe holiday! <3 — angelina.
description: y/n has to complete an assignment for her media arts class. she must film the life of someone she cares deeply about. so, she chooses her best friend: clark kent.
trigger warnings: mentions of anxiety, fluff, an almost kiss, etc.
word count: 3k
“Are you all clear on your assignment?” Mr. Bruner pronounced as everyone was already standing, shoving papers into their bags and barricading toward the door. Of course, no one responded to the posed question—no reply meant, yes, you were all clear on what to do. Mr. Bruner was your Media Arts teacher and he’d just assigned a project to film someone in your life that you care about. It could be anything—a documentary, an interview, a montage of their daily life. So, naturally, when Bruner explained the concept, you thought of Clark. He’d be the perfect muse.
The two of you had been best friends since before you could even remember, probably before your memory developed as a child.
You shoved your notes into your bag before leaving the classroom, your camcorder in hand with a small, mischievous smile. The aroma of sweat and perfume wafted through the halls as you maneuvered to find Clark. He wouldn’t mind doing it, that you knew for sure. He could never say “no” to you.
He wasn’t anywhere in the halls, so you made a beeline for the Torch room and, lo and behold, he was there with Chloe. They sat behind a computer, probably researching something to stick on the Wall of Weird.
“Hey, Y/N/N.” He smiled, that adorable boyish one.
“Hi,” Chloe chimed.
You didn’t grant either of them a reply. Instead, you lifted the camcorder, aimed at the both of them. “Who is Clark Kent?” you drawled and sauntered toward them, peering through the screen to look at them.
“What are you doing?” He couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his face, despite the effort. Chloe seemed rather amused.
You approached Clark, adjusting the camera so it centered on him, zooming in maybe a little too closely to his face.
“It’s an assignment for my Media Arts class,” you said, pressing the button labeled stop. You dropped your arms at your sides and gave Clark a toothy grin. “We have to film someone we care about.”
“That’s such a cool project,” Chloe muttered with a soft upturn of her mouth.
Clark parted his lips. At first, you thought he might say he wasn’t comfortable with being on camera, or that it was flattering of you to choose him, he just wasn’t into it. But he didn’t say either of those things. No, he just gave you those mesmerizing light eyes—something twinkled within them—and smiled, the fangs of his teeth showing just enough in the dim light of the Torch room.
“Do you need me to do anything specific?” he inquired.
“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just look pretty, which shouldn’t be hard for you.”
Clark looked down and blushed, smiling again.
“But I may ask you some questions for certain clips,” you informed. “But it’ll be very candid, so don’t worry about it. Just be yourself and pretend I’m not shoving a camera in your face for the next week.”
He laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
.
Kent Farm was wrapped in a golden haze as the sun receded behind the horizon, slowly taking its leave for the day. You’d mentioned to Mr. Kent your assignment, so he’d cut back on your tasks on the farm until you’d finished the project. Working on Kent Farm was a dream—something you loved more than anything. It was easy to get wrapped up in all those animals and the smell of the field, the morning dew that freckled the blades of grass.
Clark was in the midst of baling hay and part of you felt a little guilty not helping him, but he wasn’t even breaking a sweat.
The camcorder was set on a wooden bench, aimed at Clark while you stayed out of the frame.
“I don’t think I see myself working on the farm forever,” he said, compacting hay into a wooden crate, binding them with thin twine.
“No?” You raised your brow, fiddling with the hangnail on your pinky.
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I want to do, but hopefully it won’t involve a suit and a lot of flying.” Clark’s thick brows furrowed—whether in concentration or deep thought, you weren’t sure.
You looked through the camcorder screen and smiled softly.
“I think you liked the farm more when we were kids,” you chimed.
Clark nodded with a smile. “I still love it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not my forever, I guess.”
“What could be your forever?” you asked inquisitively.
“Something where I can help people,” he said, turning to face you. He didn’t look at the camera, it was almost like it wasn’t even there. “Maybe a firefighter.”
You smiled. “I can see you doing that.”
“Do I have a nice build for it?” He grinned cheekily and spread his arms, doing a twirl in gesticulation to his large frame. You laughed and he did too.
.
In the Beanery, you sipped on a hot cup of tea with one hand, while the other aimed the camcorder at Clark. He was caught gazing at Lana. You’d have to edit that out later, you reminded yourself.
“You seem more relaxed today,” you observed, placing the mug down carefully. You peered through the screen before lifting your gaze to Clark who didn’t pay heed to the camera, his light eyes only focused on you.
“Yeah, I guess I woke up and realized my life changed.” He sipped his coffee. “I decided to kick back and accept the fact that I couldn’t control everything.”
“That’s a good way to live,” you said softly.
“It beats stressing over things out of my hands.”
“You’ve always walked like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.” You were looking at him now, over the camera. “Ever since we were little.”
“Yeah, well, when you have a best friend who’s as clumsy as you…” he trailed off with a wide smile.
“Hey!” Your voice cracked and you reached for your crumpled napkin, throwing it across the table at him. You got a perfect shot of him laughing before pressing your thumb against the stop button and placing it down on the table. “You’re trying to make me look bad,” you grumbled with a playful eyeroll.
“It’s the game we play,” Clark retorted with a smile.
Your lips spread into a grin that was almost villainous. “I’ll remember that when I’m editing.”
.
The halls of Smallville High were busy, as usual. You slipped through the bodies of adolescents and found Clark with Pete and Chloe by their lockers. The camera was already recording as you approached, aiming it at the three of them.
“The inseparable trio,” you mused peering through the screen.
“Hey, Y/N’s class!” Pete stepped in front of the camera, entirely too close if the view of his nostrils had anything to say about it. “Pete Ross here, Clark Kent’s hottest friend. If any ladies are interested, I’m single.” He adjusted his jacket, popping the collar like he was some sort of Hollister model.
Clark was standing in frame, behind Pete’s shoulder, trying to smother his grin. Chloe was grimacing with a furrowed brow.
“I’m sure they’d love to go on a date with you and your nose hairs.” You smirked, zooming in even further.
Pete covered his nose with a cupped hand. Clark and Chloe couldn’t help but laugh as Pete stepped back from the camera, a nervous blush on his face.
“If you’ll excuse me, I now have to get a trim.” He disappeared down the hall.
You fixed the camera on Clark and Chloe, their height difference more pronounced.
“I gotta go edit the last couple pages before the paper goes out on Friday, I’ll see you guys later,” Chloe said, reaching over to squeeze Clark’s bicep. She gave you that warm, happy smile before receding down the hall.
“Last man standing,” you sing-songed, shoving the camera in his face.
He laughed nervously, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink.
“Where’re you off to now?” you asked with a gentle smile, peering over the camera to look at him. He wasn’t staring at the lens, just at you. Always at you.
“Bio,” he muttered, adjusting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. “I think we’re watching a sex education documentary today.” The two of you walked down the hall together, the camcorder catching every moment.
“Ooh. Try not to fall asleep when the lions start getting it on. It’s important information that will help us when we leave the confines of high school,” you chimed.
Clark chortled. “I’ll see you later. Come by the loft after school.”
“I’ll meet you there,” you said with a smile.
“Bye, Y/N/N.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before stepping back to walk into the classroom.
“See ya.” You waved, filming him sauntering inside before pressing stop.
.
The air was cold as you ascended the steps leading to Clark’s loft in the barn. You’d been up there a million times with him. It was his as much as it was yours. It’s where the two of you had countless sleepovers, shared secrets, and exchanged embarrassing dreams, or nightmares. It’s where he told you his secret. You remembered it like it was yesterday:
It was in the midst of winter. You were eight. You’d fallen into the lake behind your house, through the thin sheet of ice that glazed the surface. You hadn’t meant to fall in, but you were playing in the snow by yourself. Clark’s parents wouldn’t let him outside, they said it was too cold. No matter how much you pleaded with them, they said he couldn’t. So, you played alone. You wandered to the lake and thought you might be able to skate across it, but the ice was too thin and when you pressed your boot into it, you plunged below, like a vacuum sucking you under. The water was so glacial, it knocked the breath right out of you. You screamed for help, but no one was around. Your parents hadn’t been home—both of them worked—you were alone. You couldn’t grab anything to help haul you up no matter how hard you tried, until two very strong, very warm, arms wrapped around you and pulled you out.
It was Clark. He hadn’t even worn a jacket and it was in the middle of winter, when the chill was at its peak. He held you then, practically giving you his warmth before taking you back to his house where Mrs. Kent made you hot chocolate and Mr. Kent started a fire on the hearth.
That same night, he told you in the loft—the two of you engulfed in a wool blanket. He thought you were going to think he was weird or a freak, but that’s not what you thought. A piece of you burned with the most precious love for him that evening. You didn’t treat him differently after that. If anything, you treated him like nothing had changed—but on occasion you wanted to see what he could do and he always showed you. You reassured to Mr. and Mrs. Kent that you’d keep his secret safe and they believed you. They were like your second set of parents—always treating you like their own.
Now, Clark laid against the couch, his nose buried in a Ray Bradbury book. Luckily, you had the camera already rolling. You got a shot of him before he even noticed you were there.
“Hey,” you greeted. He sat up immediately, closed the book, and placed it against the low, wooden table.
“Hi.” He smiled.
You placed the camcorder down on a shelf, aiming it at Clark and keeping yourself out of frame. You perched on a cushioned chair across from him.
“Fahrenheit 451?” You reached over to grab the book.
“Yeah.” He nodded, a little sheepish. “I was just catching up on the assigned reading.”
“A book always looks so small in your hands,” you laughed softly, placing the tome back down.
Clark grinned, holding up his hands to scrutinize them. “I guess they are pretty big.”
“Your heart is too,” you observed.
The look he gave you was unlike you’d ever seen before. It was much warmer than usual, more sentient. Not that Clark wasn’t benign as ever—he was, but this mien spoke a different dialect of the same language. A kind of familiar expression that says you see me even when I don’t see myself. And it was true. You and Clark saw each other more deeply than anyone, like you were intertwined into each other’s lives by something akin to fate.
“Tell me about someone you love and how you met,” you whispered. “And, unfortunately it can’t be me,” you added with a soft snicker.
Clark chuckled and thought for a little while. He settled on Chloe and recounted the time he first saw her, what she was wearing and where they were. You, of course, knew this story, but you’d gladly listen to it again and again—like a symphony on repeat.
“It was eighth grade,” he started, reminiscence threaded his voice. “She’d just transferred from Metropolis. And I was assigned to show her around.” His lips curved into a soft smile as he stood up and neared the window. “When she found out I lived on a farm, she insisted I invite her over to experience it first hand. She thought I was Amish.” Clark chuckled, lowering his gaze to his sneakers. You smiled, eyes glistening in the dimly lit loft as you listened. He crossed the room to sit back down on the couch. “When I brought her up here, she just… kissed me.” He looked at you, a little shy now. “It was my first kiss.”
“I’ve still never kissed anyone,” you admitted. It was your turn to be shy now.
Clark blinked, looking at you.
“What about that kid from fourth grade? I thought you said he kissed you,” he questioned.
“Yeah,” you whispered with a nod. “My cheek.”
“Oh.” Clark’s lips parted as he looked at you. “Do you ever wish for it?”
“On occasion, but I’m trying to let it go. If it happens, it happens and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. It’s an uphill battle that I’m choosing not to fight.” You folded your legs up to your chest, hugging them, as you rested your chin atop your knees.
“Sometimes letting go is the only way to move forward.”
There he was, always saying the right thing at the right moment. Always speaking the words you needed to hear even if you didn’t want to.
You pressed your lips together before exhaling a gentle breath. You got up from the chair and pressed the stop button on the camcorder.
“Are you sure you have enough?” Clark asked as you approached the couch, taking a seat beside him.
“I think so.” You leaned your head back against the arm rest and stretched your legs over his thighs. His fingers grazed the material of your sweatpants softly, delicately. “You’re a really great guy, Clark,” you whispered.
He shook his head, a soft pink blushing his cheeks as his lips curved upwards into a reticent smile. He dropped his gaze to his jeans.
“I’m serious.” You sat up, peeling your legs off him to sit cross-legged. “You always say the right thing. Even when it might be hard for the other person to hear. Even if it’s hard for you to say. It’s brave. You’re the most valiant person I’ve ever met because of it.”
Finally, he met your eyes burning with a quiet sort of passion, but there all the same.
“I think you’d make a great firefighter,” you whispered with a coy smile.
Clark’s eyes flicked down to your lips, tracing the ridges in them. “Yeah?” he whispered, a little breathless.
“Yeah,” you exhaled.
Suddenly, the room grew warm—even though no candles burned, and the autumn air still slipped in through the open window. But Clark’s body radiated heat as he leaned in, his light eyes never leaving your lips.
When the distance between you began to cease into nothingness, footsteps ascended the loft stairs. You both broke apart. The cold returned to your skin, but your cheeks still burned from the heat that had just been there.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Kent apologized, probably a little more embarrassed than you and Clark. “I didn’t know you were here, Y/N. I was just coming to get Clark for dinner. You know you’re always welcome to stay, if you’d like.”
“Uhm, no, that’s okay. I, uhm.. already ate. I should probably start editing this anyway,” you said, scrambling off the couch—like the klutz Clark always said you were. You reached for the camcorder off the shelf and turned to your best friend. “I’ll see you tomorrow, when I have this finished.” You gestured to the camera.
He nodded, his cheeks flushed with chagrin.
“Goodnight,” you said to both of them with a soft smile before leaving the barn. Your stomach was in knots the entire walk home.
.
You’d spent all morning uploading the footage of Clark onto a computer in the Torch room. It took all night and all morning, but eventually the short film was finished. It wasn’t really a film, more like a montage of his life—in school, at home, with friends, doing chores on the farm, etc. You were so proud of it. It even had Mr. Bruner standing up at his desk and clapping after you’d shared it with your class.
Now, you were waiting for Clark. You’d left him a note in his locker to meet in the Torch room at precisely 2:30 PM. It was 2:29 when he walked through the door. You met his gaze with an excited smile.
“Hey,” he beamed and crossed the room to sit beside you.
“Ready?” You gently squeezed his forearm, your other hand resting on the mouse, hovering over the play button on the screen.
Clark nodded.
And you hit play.
.
a/n: this is my first smallville fic and i'm really proud of it! i hope you guys liked it. i was trying to keep the same headcanons as my previous post where y/n and clark are childhood best friends. i'm sure you've already put it together, but the edit in the beginning is supposed to be the results of y/n's assignment. the edit is mine, but none of the clips, audio, or filters belong to me. i just came up with the concept and i hope you liked it! thanks so much for reading and, as always, be safe and be kind. <3 — angelina.
- you and clark have been best friends since before you could even remember
- you help mr. kent on the farm (it's like your part time job)
- clark is secretly in love with you and you're secretly in love with him, but you never speak about it
- almost every night you watch the stars together—whether it's in his loft or on the grass
- he knows every part of you, he sees every part of you
- you and clark swim in the lake behind your house every summer
- you know his secret, you've always known, he couldn't keep something like that from you
- you've always teased one another
- think mary's song by taylor swift—that's you and clark
.
a/n: i don't usually post this kind of thing, but i just started watching smallville and yes i'm completely in love with clark kent (sue me... don't actually). i thought about this when i watched the pilot and i think it's such a cute concept. if you guys like this kind of content, pls lmk and i'll do it more often!! — angelina.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i've been gone for a hot minute i know and i'm so sorry i haven't been posting fics regularly. the reason i've been gone is because i've been working on my debut novel! it's an epic fantasy story about dragons, war, fate/destiny, and the concept of free will with a little bit of romance. i will be self publishing my book on amazon april 20th, 2025! it's called prophecy of shadows and if you'd like to read it, it will be available in just a few weeks! i'm still working out some kinks, but it will be published VERY soon! i'll have a link posted come publication day!!
once my book is out, i will try to post more content for you guys. i miss this community so much! thank you for being patient with me. love you guys!! <3 — angelina.
description: y/n has a nightmare and bucky comforts her in the night.
trigger warnings: anxiety, fear, fluff, mentions of alcohol usage, some seductive behavior, etc. read at your own risk.
word count: 1k
A hazy image took place beneath your closed lids as you tossed and turned beneath the bedsheets. You felt your body yearning to waken, to get rid of the terrifying picture that was before you.
You sucked in a breath and fluttered your eyes open. Breathing heavily, you looked into the darkness of your shared room with Bucky in the Compound. You turned over, as slowly as your body allowed, and faced him.
Desiring nothing more than to be close to him, you nestled into his side, beneath his metal arm. It exuded a coolness that eased the tension in your shoulders and throughout your entire body.
The previous night, you'd had a few more glasses of wine than you'd care to admit. It was the holidays, after all. It made sense to have a couple extra drinks. You hated to admit it, but alcohol always affected your sleep; in a negative way... bad dreams, restless sleep, etc.
Bucky's chest rose and fell against your cheek as you clung to him tightly. You didn't realize he was awake until you heard his gruff voice whisper into the dark.
"You alright, sweetheart?"
Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around his torso tighter—as though you couldn't get close enough. Bucky pressed a warm kiss to the top of your head and ran his fingers through the tangled mess of your hair.
"You wanna talk about it?" he asked, dipping his chin down to speak more intimately to you.
"I don't think so," you replied, your voice gravelly.
"Okay," Bucky nodded and engulfed you further into his grasp.
The gesture was simple, yes. But it sent a warm shiver down your spine, leaving gooseflesh across your exposed skin. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest eased your discomfort; the hazy picture of your dream slowly fading into nothingness.
"You want some tea or hot chocolate?" Bucky inquired. He was always the acts of service type of guy, which you appreciated.
"I don't wanna be alone," you lifted your head to stare up at him. He turned his head down to meet your gaze, taking note of the glassiness of your eyes.
"You can come with me, sweetheart," Bucky's lips pressed against your cheek, sending a rush of warmth from that spot to every other inch of your body.
"Okay," you nodded, sleepily as Bucky peeled the duvet back. He climbed out of the bed and came around to your side. He stared down at you lovingly, tracing his fingertips across the shell of your ear.
"You gotta get up if you wanna come with me, doll," he sat against the edge of the bed and pressed a lingering kiss to your neck. You closed your eyes and basked in the sensation.
"Mhm," you hummed and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him warmly. He released a soft breath and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you up onto his lap.
"C'mon," he whispered and pushed himself off the mattress, still holding you snugly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you through the halls of the Compound, towards the kitchen.
"My girl.." Bucky whispered into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to the skin just below it. Your arms, draped around his shoulders, held onto him tightly; your cheek resting against the metal of his arm exposed there.
Before you knew it, Bucky entered the large kitchen and set you against the cold marble countertop. His arms were placed on either side of you, enclosing you in. His cerulean eyes gazed into you, his metallic fingers tracing your exposed thigh.
"What can I get you?" he whispered, leaning in to place another kiss to your cheek. Before you could respond, he placed another one to the hollow of your throat. You sucked in a soft breath, so soft you almost didn't feel it until Bucky pointed it out. "I felt that, sweetheart," he grinned that stupid, handsome grin.
"I want tea," you whispered and cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. His jawline was stubbled from not shaving for a few days. You loved the way it felt against your fingers and beneath the palms of your hands. You also had a thing for the way it felt between your thi—
"What kind?" Bucky asked, gazing at you with so much amorance.
"Chai," you whispered, your toes curling beneath his stare.
His lips curled into an almost feline smile, as if knowing exactly what was going on in that head of yours. He peeled away from the counter and quickly made your tea the way he knew you liked.
The mug was steaming when he handed it to you. You took it with care, not wanting to spill it anywhere on yourself, on the counter, or on him.
Bucky pushed himself up onto the marble to sit beside you. He listened to you sip your drink and the both of you reveled in the stillness between you.
He was just... there. With you.
Because that's what he knew you needed.
It wasn't long before you finished your tea, it was soothing against your tongue and down your throat. It rid the cold sweat that glazed your entire body.
"All done?" Bucky questioned softly. You nodded and handed him the empty mug. He slipped off the counter and rested it into the sink, to take care of in the morning. He turned to face you fully and cupped your face, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.
You eased into the gesture and draped your arms around his neck, eyes closing slowly.
Once he pulled back, he lifted you into his arms and carried you back up to your shared bedroom. When he laid you down into the bed and climbed into his side, Bucky's arms engulfed you in a warm and tight embrace. You fell asleep entangled with him and didn't have another nightmare that evening
.
a/n: happy christmas, you beautiful people!! i had a terrible nightmare last night cuz i had five glasses of this sweet raspberry wine and alcohol fucks with my sleep and gives me nightmares. i woke up at like 4am and watched inside out to calm myself down 😭 anyway, i hope yall had a nice holiday! and i hope you also enjoyed this fluffy yet kinda seductive thingy! lol i love you guys ty so much for reading and spending your year with me :) im grateful for all of you sm <3 — angelina.
description: y/n is not a morning person and bucky tries everything in his power to ease her into the start of the day.
trigger warnings: fluff, some seductive behavior, domestic!bucky, etc. read at your own risk.
word count: <1k
The sun slipped its way through the closed curtains, shining brightly into the room. Your body was entangled within the sheets and thick blankets among your queen sized bed. You grumbled softly as the morning sun hit your eyes, causing you to slowly shield your face behind the thick blanket, no desire to get up yet.
You felt Bucky stir beside you, your back facing him. He must've been waking up. You felt his right arm slip protectively around your stomach, making you to groan softly.
You loved Bucky's affection, but receiving it early in the morning was something you were trying to get yourself used to. You hated physical affection in the morning and, of course, Bucky knew this but that didn't stop him.
"Mornin', sweetheart," Bucky mumbled into your ear with resonance. You gently moaned, clearly not ready to get up yet.
"You want some tea?" he asked, nibbling gently on your earlobe. You stayed quiet, but turned over to face him. You were so tired, and something unusual made you nestle closer to hin that morning. Your face disappeared into his chest and beneath the covers as his arms engulfed you tightly.
"Look at you.." Bucky whispered with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You released a soft huff and breathed in his scent. "What's got you so soft this morning, hm?"
"Shh," you whispered with a soft whine, no desire to speak yet.
To this, Bucky laughed. He pressed a warm kiss to your temple.
After a few moments of stillness that enveloped the room, Bucky dipped his chin down and pressed a lingering kiss to the apple of your cheek. "Cmon, sweetheart," he whispered as softly as possible. "Time to get up."
"Nooo," you dragged out softly.
"Yesss," he mimicked your tone with a smile.
"Bucky," you huffed and lifted your chin to look up at him. Your hair was matted against your forehead, your eyes glassed over the iridescent glimmer of them, and your lips were dry, slightly chapped.
"Y/N," Bucky smiled, sat up while leaning on his elbow, and cupped your face with his hands. You shivered at the cold touch of his metal arm, but relished in the light thrill.
"There's my girl," he grinned and leaned down to press a kiss to your nose. "Good morning."
"Morning," you couldn't fight your smile as Bucky leaned down to pepper kisses across your jawline and neck. You rested your head against the pillows and fluttered your eyes closed, admiring the feel of his warm lips against your cold skin.
He halted at your collarbone and seemed to question with his eyes if he should keep going. When you didn't protest, he sucked the skin over your bone.
Your body shuttered, leaving gooseflesh across your exposed arms.
"I felt that," Bucky smirked.
"Shut up," you laughed and nudged him off you.
He didn't fight you and laughed, shuffling off the bed. He turned to look down at you, still beneath the covers.
"How'd I get so lucky, hm?" Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at you with such an intense gaze, you felt your face go hot.
"Bucky," you whined softly and covered your face with the blankets.
"No, no, please.. don't cover that beautiful face," Bucky implored pathetically, leaning against the mattress to tug the sheets away.
You giggled when he clearly won the tug-o-war battle.
"There she is," Bucky grinned. "Come on, I'll make us breakfast."
This time, you happily obliged.
.
a/n: hi cuties!! i know ive been gone for a hot minute, i've just been swamped with my classes. i'm taking 4 lit classes this semester 🙄 someone tell me why i thought that was a good idea. ANYWAY ,, i hope yall liked this one! i've been seeing sm bucky content bc of thunderbults (can't wait to see that btw) so i thought to write a cute little fic this morning with him. and seeing sebastian talk shit on donald trump to the press is so sexy to me 🤭 okok i'll stop fangirling!! love yall! have a nice thanksgiving to my u.s. friends who celebrate! — angelina.
my thoughts on the united states 2024 presidential election
i debated on whether or not to post this. i was worried it would upset people, but i am far past caring. i've never been so enraged in my entire life. this might sound dramatic, but the election results truly and indefinitely disheartened me. for those who are going to disagree with me politically, ignore this, but if you're willing to learn something, keep reading. trump plans to implement project 2025, stripping women of their rights. this includes abolishing the department of education, cutting taxes for the wealthy, raising taxes for the working class, expanding his muslim ban, implementing more book bans, banning SAFE abortions, eliminating protections for women's life-saving medical care, and reinstating his transgender military ban. these are just SOME of the issues trump plans to push through with project 2025. i live in a blue state, so my rights are mostly protected, but my heart breaks and rages for the women trapped in red states. i'm livid and terrified for my sisters—young girls, women, and people with uteruses. for those who voted for a racist, convicted felon, r*pist, and sex offender, i hope you're happy with your decision to stand against your sisters, aunts, grandmothers and mothers. the rest of the world is progressing, but america is stagnant in its 1950s, white-picket fence, suburbanian dream. the united states has failed its women. i've been seeking community with classmates, friends, and online spaces where people share my mindset. this was my second time voting, and i've never felt so powerless. after casting my vote, i felt empowered, believing my voice mattered, but was too quickly disappointed. what gives me a little bit of hope is that trump will not be allowed to run again after this term. unfortunately, we still have to muscle through the next four (scary) years. to all the women in my life, we need to stand together now more than ever because that orange monster, who'll be sitting in office soon, doesn't give a shit about us. i won't seek connection, friendship, or partnership with men until they listen to us. i will also be taking part in the 4b movement, i never wanted kids to begin with but now i have more motivation not to. this may sound dramatic, but i am beyond infuriated. and i will keep fighting for change until i see it.
fyi the only people who are going to benefit from trump's presidency will be rich, white men.
let that sink in. ^^
and for my fellow white sisters who didn't vote for a sex offender, go get yourself a nice blue friendship bracelet.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
my heart is breaking after hearing the news of liam's passing. i grew up listening to one direction; i laughed with them, i sang with them, i danced with them, i cried with them, and i grew up with them. i feel as though a piece of my girlhood left the moment i heard about this tragedy. i was always a harry girl growing up, but they were all so special to me in different ways. i loved coming home from school and watching them on youtube for hours. and when i wasn't watching their videos/video diaries or listening to their music, i was reading and writing fanfiction about them. they were a special part of my childhood and i am completely distraught. i understand liam made plenty of mistakes in the past, but he was a pivotal part of my girlhood. he will be missed dearly by all us directioners.
as i maneuver through my grief, i will try to post more fics for you all soon. 🤍
description: y/n is out one night getting supplies for the black veil and on her way back, she gets mugged. when she returns to the tomb, everyone is concerned.
trigger warnings: graphic violence, assault, descriptions of minor injuries, blood, angst, seductive behavior, etc. read at your own risk.
word count: 2.6k
Rain tapped against the cobblestones as you made your way back to the gondel. Its rope was tied to the docks, securing its place. A cloak was draped over your shoulders as the hood was pulled over your head, concealing your face from potential threats.
In your grasp, you carried a large paper bag that was filled with canned goods and other essentials the tomb was lacking. Each week, you rotated with the other Crows who would go out and retrieve supplies. You didn't mind going out, but it was dangerous to do so under the circumstances.
As you placed the filled bag gently into the gondel, you stood up straight and reached for the rope that was tied to the dock. Your hand froze as you heard several heavy footsteps coming from behind you.
You swore under your breath and reached inside your cloak to the bow and arrows that were concealed perfectly. You made haste with pulling your weapons out. You drew an arrow into your bow and pulled back with precision as you turned your whole body in the sound of the direction of the footsteps.
The rain continued to fall and the subtle haze that formed across the docks blurred your vision. The sun was already setting and the torches that lit the town were burning out from the rapid fall of rain.
Your lips parted just slightly as you controlled your breath. Your eyes flickered to the left as you heard the footsteps approach closer. Your heartbeat was steady, unafraid and unyielding.
A dark shadow was casted in front of you on the docks. You couldn't make out the face, but you had a gut feeling that whomever the person had been was not approaching for casual conversation.
As a way of warning, you released your grip onto the bow and shot an arrow clean past the person's right ear. To your dismay, they did not slow down nor turn around. You released a soft grunt of frustration and drew back another arrow.
"Whomever you are, leave now," You spoke with pure authority, not once did your voice waver. They continued stepping forward and reached into their jacket to pull out a freshly sharpened knife. Your eyes glanced at the weapon. You swallowed thickly and aimed your arrow, not at them, but at their hand which held a tight grip on the knife. "Leave now," You spoke through gritted teeth. "I promise I won't miss this time.. if you choose not to walk away."
Your threats didn't seem to make much of a difference to the body before you. You lifted your gaze to their dark hooded eyes. The haze from the rain didn't make it easy to tell who they were, but it didn't seem to matter in the moment.
Swiftly, the person before you charged forth with the knife gripped tightly in their hand. You dodged the strike by bending forward and getting behind them. You held your arrow out and shot at their leg. It struck them in the calf as you smirked at the grunt that left their lips. It sounded like a man, but you weren't too sure.
They reached down their left and ripped the arrow from their fresh, bloody wound. Snapping the arrow in half, they stood and rushed towards you again, pinning you to the slick, wet ground. Shocked by the sudden drop, you breathed quickly for a few moments before reaching up with a free hand to punch them square in the nose. They staggered off of you and held their gushing, bloody nose.
You quickly went for the gondel as they were distracted, and hopefully a little delirious. You untied the ropes and hopped into the boat, ready to make your way back to the tomb. You let out a harsh, guttural scream as a wave of sharp pain filled your right shoulder. You looked back to see the person standing there with empty hands. You lowered your gaze to the knife that was lodged into your shoulder, deep and painful.
You winced and made a horrible attempt at rowing with your non-dominant arm. Blood was seeping from your shoulder and soaking your cloak. The metallic smell filled your nostrils. Stains of the thick red liquid soaked into the bottom of the boat and on the paper bag that was filled with supplies for the tomb.
.
Grunting in pain, you pulled the gondel up onto the wet ground and tied it with your left hand to a tree nearby the water. You winced as you leaned into the boat to grab the paper bag and stumbled towards the tomb. Your vision blurred with black dots as you walked through the cemetery, the rain still pouring ferociously.
Eventually, you made it to the tomb (you weren't even sure how you managed it, but you did). You carelessly dropped the bag onto the table and grunted. Your breathing was harsh. Wylan, Jesper and Matthias were seated on the couch as you made your way in. You removed your hood off your head and turned to see a trail of blood you left behind stepping inside. The three of them stood up and walked towards you.
"What the hell happened?" Jesper asked, dragging out each word.
"Are you okay?" Matthias asked.
"Sit down, Y/N," Wylan suggested as he pulled a chair out for you.
They didn't seem to have noticed the knife protruding from your shoulder until the moment you sat down. You winced in pain, tightening your jaw.
"Oh shit," Jesper murmured.
"Can one of you three idiots get Nina?!" You hadn't meant to raise your voice, but you were in such pain you weren't in full control over your actions.
"Right!" Wylan left to find Nina somewhere in the tomb.
Eventually, Kaz appeared with a locked jaw and sharp eyes. If he was concerned, he didn't appear to be. He was good at concealing his emotions.
"What happened?" He questioned as he came around the table to look at you directly.
"Well, I went into town to get supplies," You replied and held your arm tightly, starting to see more and more black dots in your vision.
"I got her!" Wylan pronounced as he came back to the room with both Nina and Inej.
"Oh Saints.." Nina whispered and stared at you in the chair with the knife through your shoulder.
"Hello to you too," You gritted as Nina pulled a chair to sit before you. She got to work quickly, but kept careful with every motion she made.
"I'm still waiting for a legitimate answer," Kaz stated with an irritant tone.
"Okay," You exhaled, "I was on my way back to the gondel when someone was coming from behind me." You explained, "I shot a warning at them, but they didn't stop. At one point, they pinned me down so I think I broke their nose and then I made a run for it to get to the boat and as I was making my miserable getaway, they threw the knife at me."
Nina successfully removed the knife and wasted no time in covering it. You hissed when she cleaned the wound with aged whiskey. You sighed after the wound was clothed in the protectant guaze.
"Thanks, Nina," You whispered.
"You lost a lot of blood, you should rest," She pulled her lips into a tight, thin smile.
"From now on, we get supplies in pairs," Kaz announced to no one in particular. "I don't want anything like this to happen again." And then, he was gone.
.
Inside a small room, you attempted to fill a copper tub with boiled water to wash away the dirt and blood that coated your body. Your cloak had nearly been ruined, but Inej reassured you that she would try and patch it up. As you used your uninjured arm to pour the water into the tub, you hissed feeling the strain against your right shoulder.
"Need help?" Kaz entered the room, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. His cane was nowhere in sight.
"Uhm, yeah," You whispered. You almost didn't hear yourself speak.
Kaz pushed himself off the wall and helped you pour the water into the copper tub. It took a bit more time to fill the tub than you would've liked. You stared at Kaz's profile as he continued pouring in the water.
"Enjoying the view?" Kaz questioned without breaking into a smile. You didn't respond, instead you merely continued gazing. "I charge twenty kruge for a show, but I can give you a minor discount," He finally met your gaze and swallowed thickly.
"Kaz Brekker making flirtatious jokes? Somebody must write this down," Your lips formed a small grin.
Kaz's lips curved upward into a slight smile. With the others, he was always stoic but around you there were moments when Kaz could relax. His shoulders eased just a bit and his furrowed brows released the tension.
"Are you well?" You asked in the comfortable stillness.
"You just got knifed in the shoulder and you're asking me if I'm well?" Kaz questioned, staring at you intently.
"I believe that was my question, yes," You nodded.
Kaz broke the eye contact and went to pour more water into the tub when it was finished boiling. He didn't entertain your question with a response, instead he continued filling the tub.
"I'm still waiting for a legitimate answer," You stood slightly up on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear the same thing he said to you not too long ago.
"I'm well," He replied with amusement in his gaze as he looked at you.
"Good," You whispered and stepped back away from him for a moment. The tub was nearly full so you started to unbutton your pants. Kaz wasn't looking, but you got the sense that he could see everything from where he stood. He had his jaw clenched, almost as if he were fighting his inner thoughts.
"Can I help?" He didn't look at you when he asked. He could see you struggling due to your injured arm.
Your breath caught in your throat as you blinked and looked up to him. "Sure," You nodded and then added, "Please."
Kaz placed the pot of water back down and walked towards you. You gazed at him as your palms began to produce a thin layer of sweat. He removed his gloves and placed them on the small table beside you. You looked up to his face, but his gaze was locked downward, as his hands moved to the button of your pants. He unclasped it effortlessly and, only then, did he raise his eyes to look into yours.
There was silence for a long while. At least, it felt like a long while.
"Thank you," You whispered.
Kaz didn't respond to your gratitude and inside nodded once with a mere dip of his chin. You weren't sure if it was because of how close the two of you stood, but you could almost hear the rapid thumping of his heart.. or maybe it was your heart.
He stepped back one step and swallowed, "Is that enough water?"
You turned your eyes to the copper tub and nodded mindlessly, completely forgetting about the bath you planned to take.
"Yes," You nodded.
"Okay," Kaz bowed his head once. "Then, I'll be on my way. You'll rest afterwards?"
You nodded softly, not trusting your own voice.
"Good," He turned and headed for the doorway, but you reached out to grasp his wrist. Kaz met your eyes again with a question in them that needed no words.
"Stay," You exhaled. "Stay with me, please." You weren't sure if your voice was shaking or if your body was shaking, but frankly you didn't seem to care in the moment. "I don't want to be alone," You stated once you trusted your voice again.
Kaz looked as though he might've been contemplating and, eventually, he slowly nodded. You sighed contently and began to remove your clothing. It didn't seem to phase either of you, but something in the room was different. You looked up to Kaz when you couldn't quite shimmy out of your top.
He stepped forward and assisted you in removing the top. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked at Kaz. His gaze was hard, yet soft. He looked as though he could devour you in that very moment, but something had a strong grip on him. His pride, perhaps, you thought.
Kaz helped you out of the rest of you garments and assisted you into the bubbly and soapy tub. The water was warm against your greasy and dirt-covered skin. Kaz pulled a chair out to sit beside the tub, letting his bad leg stretch out. It must've felt relieving to be able to take the weight off it for a while, since he hadn't come in with his cane.
"Thank you," You whispered and leaned your head back against the tub.
He nodded again, gazing at you with both admiration and hunger. You couldn't quite differentiate the two; not that they were all that much different anyway.
You made sure not to get your wrapped arm wet as you reached for a bar of soap to clean your hair with.
"Allow me," Kaz spoke softly as he reached for the soap. You nodded with a small smile and turned so that he could easily wash your hair. His hands were perfectly pale and they felt nice as he massaged your scalp and scrubbed the soap in between the strands.
"Perhaps, if the thug life doesn't suit you forever, you might think of becoming a barber," You smiled as you head was leaned back against the tub.
"I will take it into consideration," Kaz grinned, you could hear it in his voice as your eyes were closed.
Silence stirred in the room. The only sound came from Kaz rinsing your hair after washing it. You sat there for a while, until the water ran cold.
"I'm sorry about what happened," Kaz whispered. "I should've been there."
"What?" You turned to face him, your chest covered by all the bubbles. Kaz looked at you with a nervous and uneasy gaze. "Kaz, there isn't anything you or anyone else could've done."
"I could've helped you," He replied, almost sadly.
"I'm alive, aren't I?" You asked and reached your good arm over to gently grasp his ungloved hand. They were warm and soft. You stared at your hands for a moment and breathed deeply. Kaz must've been feeling the same way because his chest rose and fell rapidly.
"I don't want anything like this to happen again," He repeated his words from earlier, but this time it was in a whisper. Kaz leaned closer to you as you stared at him with a beautiful gaze.
You gently squeezed his hand as his lips found yours. It was a kiss filled with longing and passion, but it was soft. He tasted of smoke and pinewood. You leaned your head back gently a little bit as his other hand cupped your face.
Slowly, you pulled back and felt your cheeks warm with heat. Kaz stared at you lovingly.
"So," You whispered, "are you gonna come join me?" Your eyes were filled with mischief as you gently grazed your fingers across the surface of the water.
Kaz smiled, coyly, in response and shrugged off his coat.
.
a/n: SO i just started reading six of crows, i'm half way through crooked kingdom and i'm in LOVE dude. i need to watch the show when i finish with the book. i hope you guys like this and that was okayish?? i'm kinda proud of it! if you want more six of crows stuff, PLEASE let me know!! ily guys so much!! mwah! <3 — angelina.
description: y/n and azriel decide to train to practice forms in battle. things get a little frisky.
trigger warnings: seductive behavior, a lot of fluff, mostly platonic, fae!reader, graphic violence, fighting, etc. read at your own risk.
word count: 1.1k
You stood before Azriel with a sword in hand, firmly grasping the handle. Your knuckles turned white as you swung your blade towards him. He blocked it effortlessly with his own, slashing it to the side so the tip of your blade kissed the snowy ground. You breathed out through your nostrils as he did so.
Lifting your gaze to him, your eyes flickered a bright shade of blue as you motioned your hand to toss a frosted ball of energy against his chest, knocking him down upon his back.
He grumbled and laid there for a moment. "I thought we said no magic," Azriel said lowly. You laughed and walked towards him, your eyes fading back to their original color as you held out a hand to help him up. He took it and stood up with your assistance.
Dusting off the snow against his Illyrian leathers, he stared at you with his bright hazel eyes. "You always manage to surprise me," He whispered. "And that will help you in war.. on the battlefield."
"I know," You smirked.
The two of you stared at each other for a while, a comfortable stillness fell upon the air. The soft snowfall was heard against the grass and the distant sound of an icy babbling stream filled the silence.
"Again," Azriel smirked slowly.
You smiled and raised your blade with a knowing expression as he would be the one to make the first strike. You alternated that during practices.
He slowly brought his blade up towards you. Your eyes were undeniably beautiful; intoxicating to Azriel. You stared at him warmly, as a way to distract him from making a strike. You slowly lowered your blade, letting the tip of it kiss the frozen ground.
Stepping closer to him, you breathed slowly as it became a misty cloud in front of you. It was warm and smelled of mint. Azriel could almost taste it. Your noses almost brushed against each other's, dangerously close but not quite. As his eyes fluttered closed for the slightest moment, you took the opportunity to swiftly grasp his sword and step back with both of them in hand. You held his directly at his throat as yours was still touching the ground.
"You should never let your opponent distract you, Az," You clicked your tongue in a way to tsk as he smiled bashfully, his dimples showing.
"Very funny," Azriel stated lowly with a smile before it faded, "Give me my sword." He curled his fingers as a way to gesture for you to hand it over.
You pressed your lips together fighting a smile as you made no such movements to obey.
"Y/N, come on, give it here please," Azriel insisted growing impatient.
"I like the sound of you begging," You smirked, eyes bright blue once again. Azriel noticed and swallowed, seemingly nervous. "Do it again," You said calmly.
"Please," Azriel held out his hand, eyes pleading and pupils dilated. He was enjoying this. You smiled softly and tossed his sword to him with the blade pointed down. He swiftly caught it by the handle and held it up, immediately going for a strike towards you.
You blocked it effortlessly and grunted, using all your might to push his blade down to the left. He stumbled back as you stepped forward, preparing to strike. Your hair fell before your eyes as you swiftly took your sword and started to slash in front of Azriel, just above his groin. It was one of the most sensitive areas to hit in battle, especially on a man.
Azriel backed up quickly, dodging your hit as he used his blade and it clanked with yours. The two of you held that position for a moment, catching breaths. His hazel eyes were bright as he looked into yours.
Your lips curved into a smirk as you took your knee and hurriedly jabbed it into Az's groin. He immediately dropped his sword and held his private on the outside of his Illyrian leathers, groaning as he fell to his knees.
"Oh, I'm sorry," You tossed your sword in the snow and covered your mouth, trying not to laugh. "I meant to aim for your stomach," You spoke apologetically between soft laughs. You knelt down before him and laid a hand against his shoulder.
"I'm fine," Azriel spoke through clenched teeth and a grunt. "That was a good strategy though," He chuckled in pain.
"Just lay stomach down in the snow, the ice might fell better on it," You tried saying it seriously. Azriel looked up to give you a very annoyed expression. You broke out into fits of laughter.
He rolled his eyes and shoved you on your back playfully. You kept laughing as he took a handful of snow, tossing it against your face and stomach.
"Stop! I said I was sorry!" You laughed as you made a horrible attempt to back away. Azriel ignored your helpless pleas as he gripped your sides and squeezed them, tickling you against the ground.
"Az!" You yelped in between laughs. "I'll do it again if you don't stop!" You grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it at his face. He laughed loudly, throwing his head back as his eyelashes and hair were covered in snow.
You giggled breathlessly and sat up as he pulled back from you.
It was rare when Azriel laughed or even genuinely smiled. The two of you somehow always seemed to share a laugh and a playful moment. He was always so solemn and serious; you were able to take him away from that for a few moments at a time.
The two of you were breathless as you slowly scrambled to get up and retrieve your sword. Azriel tried to do the same but wasn't as quick as you. The tip of your sword found his chin as he was still kneeling against the ground. You stood before him with a dangerous smile.
"I believe I won this match," You stated with a grin.
"Is that right?" Azriel smirked as he was slowly reaching for the handle of his sword. His eyes remained on you, pupils dilated and lips parted as he breathed slowly.
"Yes," You quickly lifted his head with your blade as you stared down at him with a dangerous glint in your dark eyes.
Azriel made haste and pulled back from your blade, swinging his sword against it, clanks vibrated against your eardrums. He pushed himself up and off the ground, continuing to spar with you. You had a smile on your face with each dodge and block you made. It was effortless.
It wasn't training or even practice to either of you; truly, it was just plain fun.
.
a/n: i fucking love azriel. i hope you guys like this acotar content!! i read acotar back in january i think?? and i'm in love with azriel. i hope you guys liked this and if you want more acotar content PLEASE lmk because i loved writing this sm :) love yall! — angelina.
description: during a mission, y/n and bucky must appear as though they are romantically together despite their true hateful feelings towards one another.
trigger warnings: fake dating, enemies to lovers, foul language, seductive behavior, sexual content, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise, a lot of tension, gun usage, knife usage, graphic violence, etc. please do not proceed in reading if you are under the age of 18. thank you.
word count: 2.6k
Sat in the back of the Quinjet, you were getting an outfit put together against your body; a skin tight black dress that revealed your curves perfectly. Your eyes gazed into the mirror as you looked at your reflection, applying a thin layer of red lipstick to your mouth. Your hair was pinned back and a silver chain laid around your neck.
The Quinjet rumbled against your feet, you were wearing pumps. It was difficult to stand in them for a while, your feet begun to ache, but you swallowed the pain as though it was just a thick pill.
You were to attend a private party to retrieve some stolen serums by Hydra. Bucky would be your second, to assist you in the retrieval. The two of you were to appear at the party as two guests. You and James didn't get along well, for a reason you didn't particularly understand; just that he got under your skin and you got under his.
Hidden in the skirts of your black dress was a dagger strapped to your undergarments. You smirked softly at your reflection and released a breath as the Quinjet finally landed somewhere rural, far from where the party would take place.
You slowly grasped a hold of your hand back, that contained several useful weaponry if needed. You walked past Bucky without making direct eye contact with him. He was dressed in all black, his hair was slicked back and slightly longer than you remembered and the stubble across his jawline looked freshly trimmed. He was.. he was..
Handsome. Divinely handsome.
Swallowing hard, you sensed Bucky was following you as you exited the Quinjet to walk towards the black car that was parked not far from the landing site. The backseat door opened for you by the driver. You slipped inside and sat with perfect posture and eventually Bucky climbed in after you. He sat with a fair distance as the driver shut the door.
.
Slowly stepping out of the car, you accepted the help of the driver by taking his hand and standing upon the pavement. You waited for Bucky to step out and when he did, you finally stared up to him.
He held out his metal arm — that was covered by a black blazer and his hands were concealed by gloves to disguise his true identity. He waited for you to lock it with his. You stared at his arm for a moment before slowly slipping your exposed arm into his.
"For this to work," Bucky whispered and lifted your chin to meet his eyes, "We must appear madly in love."
You exhaled softly, almost inaudible, "No problem."
The corner of Bucky's lips curved into a grin as the two of you walked towards the entrance. In order to gain entree, you and Bucky gave false names that were in the list of invitees. The whole time, your heart was pounding. Your face concealed that completely; not once showing an ounce of nervousness or anxiety.
Bucky kept close beside you. Your eyes bounced about the large ballroom. You tried to remember where the serums were kept hidden from what Tony and Steve instructed earlier in the week and the map they showed both you and Bucky.
If memory served you right, the serums were locked in a safe several floors below.
Your eyes locked with a man by the bar, sipping a glass of whiskey slowly. His dark eyes remained on you firmly. You slowly turned to face Bucky, so close that it seemed to fluster you.
"That man at the bar," You whispered, "I think he's Hydra."
Bucky kept his gaze on you, though you sensed he could see the man at the bar out of the corner of his eye. "Should we make him uncomfortable for staring?" He smirked slowly.
"What?" You parted your glossy lips and felt Bucky's breath against your mouth; you could almost taste it. Your body tensed as Bucky's arms snuck around your waist, pulling you in tightly. You felt your breath caught in your throat at the motion and how his hands felt against your sides. He squeezed softly, causing your knees to buckle. It was a good thing he held you.
"Give into it, sweetheart," Bucky whispered.
"Give into what?" You challenged, feeling your nose brush against his cheek; not purposefully.
Bucky eyes locked with yours as his lips slowly pressed against your mouth, enclosing whatever distance remained between you. Your body tensed at first, your core pulsed with adrenaline. It didn't take long before you gave into it. You found your lips entwined with Bucky's, tasting every inch of his breath; mint. Gaining some form of confidence and control, your hands found their way up to his face, cupping his jawline and cheeks.
Your eyes were closed as you fell into his chest, body growing weak. Slowly, he pulled back and found his gaze on you for a while. You breathed heavily, making a horrible attempt to keep it quiet. His eyes flicked upward, behind you, to see the man was gone.
"He's gone," Bucky spoke lowly.
You nodded slowly and pulled back just a few inches. A thought crept your mind as you smirked and tugged Bucky through the crowd of people dressed elegantly. You made your way towards the elevator. You didn't need to see Bucky's face to know he also had a coy smile on his lips.
Pressing your fingers to the button against the wall, you turned back to Bucky to press a hungry kiss to his mouth. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. Perhaps, he was expecting it. You held onto the collar of his black shirt and as soon as the elevator doors opened, the two of you stumbled inside. Without parting from his mouth, you reached back to press the correct floor where the stolen serums were hidden.
Nobody paid heed to the two of you. Who would? You were simply two individuals in need of the other.
Once the doors closed and the elevator began to descend, you parted from Bucky. He was breathless and you were too. You leaned against the wall and breathed through your nose, your red painted lips smeared only slightly. Bucky stood a foot or two from you, staring at the elevator doors.
"Think they bought that?" Bucky questioned with a slight chuckle in the back of his throat.
"I think so," You nodded.
Once the doors opened, you swiftly pulled out your dagger from under the skirt of your dress and saw several agents of Hydra surrounding the safe in which the serums were locked in.
Bucky smirked as he stood beside you and pulled out a handgun that he kept smuggled in the back of his pants. The two of you walked out of the elevator with complete ease and smoothness.
"Hey! You're not supposed to be down here!" One of the men shot you and Bucky a look of annoyance. When you and Bucky didn't cower, he knew who you both must've been. There were six men; three each for you and Bucky.
You made haste and quickly used your dagger to slice an agent in the thighs, causing him to falter to the ground in pain. One of them grabbed your arm and made a fist with his free hand. You smiled and kicked the heel of your pump into his groin. Watching him sink to the ground, you made your way for another and used the hilt of your dagger, striking the man in the chest.
Bucky wasn't going to use his weapon unless he truly needed to. He was swift and confident with his strikes. Eventually, you both had all six of them against the floor.
"Lovely," You spoke dryly and made your way to the safe. This part was all Bucky; all he needed to do was use the strength of his arm to break open the metal.
You retrieved all of the stolen serums and shoved them into your handbag before casually leaving the party.
.
In your bedroom of the compound, you used a wipe to remove the layers of cosmetics that were upon your face. You had a long shower once the makeup was off and stood before your mirror, applying lotion to the dry parts of your skin. You wore a light pink silk robe to cover your naked body beneath.
A knock was heard against your door. You slowly stopped what you were doing and led yourself to the wooden door, opening it slightly to reveal Bucky.
"May I help you?" You questioned, with slight condescension.
Bucky swallowed, his throat bobbed. Your gaze softened as he appeared.. nervous. He slowly entered the room and you allowed him, not fighting or challenging him in such a state. He latched the door shut behind him and stared at you, his gaze flickered to your lips.
"What are you doing–" You started, but were interrupted by his mouth on yours. You didn't fight it and allowed him to slip his arms around your waist, squeezing your curves perfectly. Your hair was still damp from the shower as he gripped the back of it firmly, slowly pulling your head back.
"I can't get you outta my head, doll," Bucky breathed out desperately. You stared at him, not once breaking eye contact. "That sweet scent of yours.." He lowered his head to your neck, taking in a breath of the vanilla soap you used from the shower. "And the way you taste," He raised his head and attached his lips to yours once more. Bucky groaned at the flavor of your lipbalm.
It wasn't long before he had your back against the large bed of yours. Your hands were in his hair, gently tugging at the ends of it. He slowly rocked his hips into yours as you moaned shakily against his mouth.
"Wanna get this off you.." Bucky whispered gesturing to the robe you had on, grasping a hold of the knot at the front. "May I?" He asked, looking into your eyes.
"Yes," You nodded and he made haste, swiftly untying the knot and pulling it from your body. He tossed it to the carpet floor and smiled down at you. You had absolutely nothing on underneath that robe. His large hands made contact with your skin. The cold metal of his left hand made you shiver softly, a smile against your mouth.
"Your turn," You breathed out, gesturing to his clothes.
As quickly as he removed your robe, he undid his pants, yanking them off with ease. He became completely uncladded before you. You took the opportunity to admire how truly beautiful he was. Perhaps, in the past, you hadn't taken the time to notice how perfect he was.
His lips collapsed into yours. He was hungry. You released a breath just before he found his mouth on yours. You arched your back so that your breasts were pressed up against his chest. Bucky smiled into your mouth and firmly pushed your hips down against the mattress.
"Patience," He whispered into your ear and let his teeth gently toy with your lobe.
You nodded slowly and breathed out as his lips came into contact with your neck. You exhaled and leaned your head back, trying to suppress the moans that were threatening to come out of you.
"Do you still hate me, Y/N?" Bucky mumbled against the skin of your throat.
"Yes," You shakily breathed out.
Bucky smiled and used his metal fingers to cup your breast. You whined in response and closed your eyes. His mouth pressed to your nipple, letting his tongue swirl and mouth suck on the sensitive skin. You curled your toes in response, grasping the sheets with one hand and with the other you entangled your fingers in the back of his hair.
He hummed at the feeling your hardened nipple against his tongue. You felt your core pulse and arousal begun to stick to your inner thighs.
Bucky used his metal fingers to run down your stomach, sides and hips. You shivered at the cold feeling.
"How about now, sweetheart?" Bucky raised his head to watch your face. "Do you still hate me now?" He slipped his metal hand between your legs and dragged them up and down your entrance, the wetness coated his hand.
"No," You opened your eyes and shook your head, staring at him as your chest rose and fell rapidly. He slipped a finger inside as you opened your mouth to moan softly. As quickly as your eyes opened, they closed to soak in the feeling of that cold metal pumping in and out of you. You spread your legs to allow him better access. You didn't realize it, but he started lowering himself. He took in the scent of your arousal and hummed with a soft smile.
Bucky pulled your metal fingers out and replaced them with his mouth between your legs. You whined audibly and reached down to entangle your fingers in his hair. He opened his eyes to stare up at you, watching the way your body reacted to his motions.
The way your back arched at each flick of his tongue and the way your grip in his hair tightened the deeper he pushed his face in.
You couldn't deny the reactions your body was having even if you tried. Bucky knew exactly what he was doing and took note of what felt good for you.
"I wanna be inside you, Y/N," Bucky pulled his head back slightly and kissed your inner thighs. He rose his body up to press kisses along your lower stomach, humming softly as he did so.
You pulled him up to your face and kissed his lips deeply, tasting yourself against him. You parted your legs as a way to signal that you wanted him inside you as well. He smiled into your mouth and held your thigh firmly with his metal hand.
Slowly, he guided himself inside you. You wanted to scream and rip the sheets with how tightly you gripped them. Your eyes filled with tears at how amazing he felt and fit inside you.
"You feel amazing, sweetheart," Bucky pressed his lips to your mouth. You reached your hands up to drape around his neck, gently squeezing his skin, unable to contain how good he felt.
"Oh God, Buck.." You whispered, moaning into his ear. He rocked his hips, moving in and out of you with ease. You were so comfortable with him.
"Such a good girl," He whispered darkly into your ear, "Taking me so well." You arched your back and whined at his words. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to stay as close against him as possible.
It wasn't long before the knot in your stomach slowly came undone.
"Oh, Y/N.. I can feel that," Bucky moaned and kissed you deeply. "You gonna come around me?" You pressed your lips into his harder to muffle the screams you wanted to let out. You reached a pinnacle and slowly pulled your lips back from his.
Bucky slowly pulled from inside you and released his load against your stomach. You arched your back and moaned at the intoxicating feeling of his release against your skin. It was oddly cold.
You were breathless and tired. Bucky was also as he laid beside you. You laughed nervously and turned your head to press a longing kiss to his lips.
"Happy you finally gave into it?" Bucky smirked into your kiss.
You smiled and pulled back, "Yes, are you?"
His smile said enough.
.
a/n: im so sorry i haven't been as active on here!! i've been doing a lot of reading lately more so than writing! also how would yall feel about some acotar fics?? ehh?? maybe?? i've been really thinking about writing some azriel fics! if that's something you guys wanna read, please let me know! i love you guys mwah! — angelina.
merry christmas and happy holidays, everyone!! i hope you enjoy this wonderful time with all your friends, family and loved ones. more fics are coming soon, i promise! xx.
be safe, have a great holiday and treat people with kindness! — angelina.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
description: getting ready to leave for battle leads to an unexpected conversation.
trigger warnings: angst, mentions of violence, some sexism, daughter of gandalf!reader, witch!reader, etc. read at your own risk.
word count: <1k
You squeezed through the many bodies of men that were amongst the camp. Searching for Aragorn, your tired eyes bounced from tent to tent, hoping he would appear eventually.
Across the camp, Aragorn was saddling his horse. You took the opportunity to approach him as he was seeming to be leaving somewhere in secret; without Legolas and Gimli, more evidently.. without you (you observed).
"You're leaving?" You questioned with a subtly firmness which you did not intend.
Aragorn saw you, eyes locked for a moment before parting his lips to speak, "This I must do alone, Y/N."
You nearly rolled your eyes, but fought yourself from doing so and remained still. The crickets sung, filling the silence between the both of you. He stared at you with reluctance, but continued to saddle his horse.
"So you're no longer the ranger from the North, are you?" You questioned and looked at you. "You are the King of Gondor.. protecting his people, is that right?"
"Y/N, I need you here protecting these warriors. You are more powerful than any of us all together," Aragorn explained, stepping toward you away from the stallion. "I am leaving to summon an army that will defend us, we do not have the numbers and you know that."
"That is precisely why I should be going with you, you'll die back there," You stated, blankly.
"I do not fear death," He replied.
"You have far too much pride, Aragorn," You whispered, lowly.
"You will stay here and protect these men," He ignored your insult.
"That is what I am to do? Stay here and watch you go?" You bit off, frustratedly.
"I must do this alone, Y/N," Aragorn repeated more what felt like the hundredth time that evening.
You were beyond frustrated now. It felt as though you were conversing with a stone wall. Aragorn never doubted your abilities and your magic, but now it felt like you were merely a woman being told to stand back while a man took care of other matters of business.
Unaware of your emotions, your eyes filled with tears and became red. You were angry more than anything and reached your hand up into a fist. Aragorn watched you with a furrow in his brow. His pupils large as he slowly gripped your wrist, ever so gently.
"Tell me to stay," Aragorn spoke softly to you as you looked to him with an emotionless expression, though tears continued to fall. "Say don't go," He added.
"I cannot tell you that," You replied, wanting more than anything to.
"I don't understand," Aragorn lowered your hand as it was no longer balled in a fist. "A moment ago you are angry that I go alone, now you tell me you can't say you don't wish for me to leave."
"What I want is to join you, Aragorn," You told him with pure vexation. "I never felt like just a hopeless woman with you until this very moment. I cannot tell you to stay, but I can come with you. I can make sure that you do not end up dead."
Aragorn stared at you for a moment longer before his lips curved into a soft smile, "You're almost as stubborn as Gandalf."
"I learned from the best," You whispered and a snicker left your lips shortly after. "Don't unsuspect that Legolas and Gimli won't be coming along as well," You warned with a small, thin smile.
Aragorn's lips curved into a pleasing smile in response.
.
a/n: i don't know how i feel about this. is it good?? idk how to feel!! needless to say, i hope you enjoyed this sweetpeas! this is my first lotr fic and i'll definitely be doing more! mwah! be safe and happy (almost) halloween! <33 — angelina.
trigger warnings: some seductive behavior, gun usage, fluff, etc. read at your own risk.
word count: <1k
Holding the shot gun close against your right shoulder, you aimed it towards the wooden target outside. You'd been the only one training that afternoon, everyone else was at lunch. You closed your left eye and tried your best to hit the center of the target. You pulled the trigger and missed it, the bullet drove through the wood several inches away from the center.
You released a grunt and tossed the gun against the grass and dirt, frustratedly. You kicked a rock that was by your feet as you clenched your jaw. Placing your hands against your hips, you stood still for a moment, staring at the target for a while; as if it would give you the answer as to how to shoot the center of it.
"It's really not that complicated," Bellamy's voice was heard from behind you.
You parted your lips and released a soft breath, uninterested in his instruction. "I almost had it," You avoided eye contact and reached down to lift up the shot gun, holding it tightly against your shoulder again.
Bellamy stood behind you, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you for a moment. His eyes squinted subtly due to the brightness of the sun.
You pulled the trigger and missed by a hair again. You sighed, quietly.
"Hold it up again," Bellamy instructed, walking towards you.
"I don't need your help," You replied, looking back to him.
"Just hold it," He said, not phased by your attitude. You looked ahead at the target and held up the gun again. Bellamy's hands slowly moved around to your arms to fix their position. You could feel his breath fanning against your neck. The closeness caused a lump to develop in your throat, unable to speak.
"Yeah.." Bellamy cleared his throat and stepped back, awkwardly. "Like that," He nodded.
You felt your grip against the gun loosen from the sweat that produced in the palms of your hands. Swallowing thickly, you pulled yourself back into focus and closed your left eye again. Bellamy stood at your side and watched as you pulled the trigger.
The bullet swiftly moved through the red painted dot against the wood carved into a circle. You smiled widely as you stared at the hole in the middle of the target.
"I did it!" You laughed, almost baffled that you were capable of doing it. You turned to see Bellamy and he was smiling at you. That was something he didn't always do often, but when he did it was beautiful.
"I told you it wasn't that complicated," He smiled. "It's all in how you hold it."
"Thanks, Bellamy," You grinned.
He simply nodded with a smile to his lips.
.
a/n: hi, darlings!! so i just started watching the 100 and it's honestly so good! i hope that i captured bellamy's character well here and if i didn't, i'm sorry 😭 i'm still learning his character! love you guys mwah! — angelina
