#<- fuck it that’s my asks tag now. yes it is in reference to te amo wooksito what’re u gonna do about it

[starrz-ombie]

hey is your onlyoneof bias yoojung? /j

omg!!! how’d you guess????

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Disaster.

JAVIER PEÑA. ┃ NARCOS.

❝ words: about 1.8k

❝ warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids, language, soft Javi.

❝ summary: Never let Javier do the laundry.

❝ a / n: This is a writing for Javier that has four years or more, but I translated it to English. Dialogues are in spanish, but this work also contains the translations. As always, I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ❤.

Gif credits to the author.

MASTERLIST. ⎢ MULTIFANDOM TAG LIST.

The sunbeams through the curtains disturb your peaceful sleep, rolling tangled in the soft sheets to toss an arm over Javier's chest. But it falls over the cold mattress. Growling still not awake at all, you palm his empty side of the bed. Sitting up on your left arm, you glance through the door to the living room. No noise outside his dorm that makes you know he's still at his house. Lying on your back and tilting your head with a puff escaping your lips, your eyes land on a hand-written note on his nightstand waiting for you to be read. Kissing your lips, you stretch an arm to grab it. “Te quiero hablar sobre algo más tarde, me esperas, ¿sí? Te amo, pendeja”.

The first time he called you like that was the day you met him —or more precisely, the day you almost ran over him. You remember him with both hands on the hood of your car, screaming at you “¿qué pasó, pendeja? A caso, ¿no me vió?” You were focused on texting your boss, but when you raised your eyes and made eye contact both you and him fell for each other, a fact that surprised you when his partner told you he was a perro; every night with a different woman.

A goofy smile curves your lips, feeling yet the kisses Javier spread last night all over your skin, just hoping he has left some coffee for you when you decide to get up. Directing your steps to his wardrobe, fully naked, you pick one of his t-shirts impregnated with his heavenly smell to wear it. You don't have anything planned for today other than enjoying your free day and wait for him to come back, so when you see the mess his house is in your opinion, you settle on cleaning it.

After having breakfast como Dios manda, you start for the living room. Except for the documents and the archives from his job, you pick up all the trash around, before sweeping the floor and dust the furniture. Once it is done, you continue with the laundry. God, this man has clothes thrown throughout the house. Putting them inside the basket, you bring them to the kitchen, but you have to leave aside your task when you find the washing machine already occupied. You're starting to tremble. Javier is a disaster, and you don't need to be a genius to realize it. So, when you see a red shirt inside, mixed with your white clothes, you pray for everything you know.

Opening the small door, you confirm your suspicion.

“¡PUTA MADRE! ¡NO JODAS! ¡HUEVÓN MALPARIO'!”

(Shit! Son of a bitch!)

Music in Spanish sounds all around the house, with the kitchen as the epicenter. You're cooking something for dinner, wearing a short chiffon dress —that makes your legs stand out and that used to be white, now is some kind of pink—, stalling till Javier comes back. Oh, he's going to pay for what happened.

“¿Mi amor?” The front door gets closed while hearing his voice calling you. “¡Ya regresé! ¿Dónde te metis— whoa, whoa, whoa…”

(¿My dear? I'm back! Where are you?)

Your boyfriend stops in his tracks as his mouth drops to the floor. Taking off his aviator sunglasses, you find him ogling you with eyes widened. He gulps to wet his sore throat while licking his bottom lip.

“A ver, a ver… voltéate”. He whispers waving his index finger doing circle moves.

(Let's see, turn around).

In silence, you obey his petition in slow motion so he can delight with the views, drawing a gunny grimace on your face. When you face him again, he is crossing himself thanking God. Raising both eyebrows, you take some steps closer swinging your hips to provoke him a little more, having so much fun.

“¿Sí te gusta mi vestido, hm?”

(Do you like my dress, hm?)

He just nods his chin fascinated, not being able to speak.

“Está bonito, ¿verdad? Pero… pues más bonito estaba cuando era blanco”. You reply, lifting both arms at the sides of your body.

(It's beautiful, isn't it? But... It was perfect when it was white).

“¿Cómo así, mi amor?”

(What do you mean, my love?)

Javier doesn't understand what's going on when you practically drag him through the kitchen to the clothesline outside, pointing at your white clothes, now of a strange pink discolored, he has to swallow a giggle. Pressing his lips together, he scratches the bridge of his nose doing his best to not laugh.

“A ver, cuéntame el chiste. Así me río yo también”.

(Tell me the joke. So I can laugh too).

“¡No me estoy riendo!” He feigns to be offended raising his hands to his chest.

(I'm not laughing!)

“Seguro… ¿No es esa tu camisa favorita?” You ask making a soft and brief move with your chin.

(Sure... Isn't that your favorite shirt?)

Putting his brown eyes on the piece of clothing he's wearing, he doesn't have a chance to reply when you ruin it and all its buttons by a strong pull, making them fall to the floor. A proud grin curves your lips up, while Javier tries to babble something. But the response to your action is better than you could think.

Crashing his lips on yours, his fingers move faster than you can assimilate to undoing his belt and the zip of his jeans, as he devours your mouth hungry like a stray dog. His tongue fights yours in a battle for dominance, pulling down his clothes before forcing you to turn and face the counter. Javier ruins your thong as easily as you have ruined his shirt, causing you to moan when he obligates you to spread your legs for him.

Bending over the counter and sticking out your ass, hearing him jerking off his delicious cock, your boyfriend digs his hardness as deep as he can into your soaked cunt. You cry out his name inevitably. Javier spits an animalistic groaning onto your ear. It doesn't matter how many times you two have fuck, you always need a second to adjust to his length, but this time he doesn't give you the opportunity. Not losing time, he grabs your throat with his right hand whilst the other presses your body to the counter from behind. Javier rocks his hips furiously, back and forth, running out of air. Soon, your moans and your whinings fill the kitchen, as the dry noise his pelvis produces when it crashes your limits.

“Si querías coger… solo tenías que decirlo”. He hisses lost in the pleasure, thrusting you harder with every move.

(If you wanted to fuck, you just had to ask for it).

It's not like he's mad at you, it's more like he is trying to compensate you for what he has done. He knows to perfection how to worship your body, how to make you feel loved and desired; but he also knows to perfection that you prefer him to be rougher than gentle —pulling your hair, choking you, biting your neck, making you beg.

“Ah, Javi…”

“Sí te gusta que te… coja, ¿no?”

(Do you like how I fuck you, right?)

“Sí, sí… Más rápido, por favor… por favor”.

(Yes, yes... Faster, please... please).

Your right-hand wraps his wrist, securing a little more the grip on your throat before guiding his other to your legs, straight to your throbbing clit.

“Tan ansiosa, tan necesitada mi gatita”.

(So anxious, so needy my kitten).

His forefinger caresses your finger so softly that he could kill you, quite the opposite of his waist.

“Qué rico…” You gasp enraptured, arching your back and tilting your head to reach his lips.

The fight of your tongues continues, drinking each other's pleasing growls, while the pace of his finger increases too close to the orgasm.

“No pares… no pares, por favor”. You beg onto his mouth, trailing his lips after over your jawline down to your neck.

(Don't stop... don't stop, please).

Nailing his teeth causing you to whimper loudly, your legs start to tremble as Javier digs his twitching hardness into you once and once, not letting you breathe for a second and pushing you to the edge. You can't help but scream his name, just like he loves, feeling the tickles exploding within your belly and letting yourself go. Your boyfriend only needs some more pushes straight to your g-spot to come inside you with a delighted howl drown against your neck. His warm seed mixed with your wetness makes him sigh breathless, collapsing over your back as you need to rest your arms over the counter till recovering.

“Me vuelves loco, mujer”. Javier mumbles, placing gentle kisses on your shoulder before caressing it with the tip of his nose.

(You drive me crazy).

Slowly pulling himself out of your overstimulated cunt, stealing you a disappointed whining for the sudden emptiness, he puts on his clothes as you turn around to face him.

“Te ves bien bonita, así toda hecha un desastre”. His perfect and charming smile gives you goosebumps, leaning forward to you to pepper your lips with so much tenderness.

(You look beautiful just like that, messy).

“Qué chistoso”. You chuckle placing both hands on his neck.

(Very funny).

“¿Arrunche en la tina?”

(Cuddles in the bathtub?)

“Por favor”. You just reply before he lifts you on his arms in the most purest bridal style, making you laugh lively and satisfied.

(Please).

In barely a couple of minutes, your bodies are covered by warm water, relaxing every inch of them and making the tension disappear. Javier is lying back on your chest, smoking with both eyes closed as your fingertips gently roam his chest. You have missed him too much today, being something rare for you to not spend your days off together, but he has been through so much work lately.

“¿De qué me querías hablar?”

(What you wanted to tell me?)

“¿Hm…?” Expelling the smoke through his nostrils, Javier raises his chocolate eyes towards yours.

“La nota”. You add referring to the piece of paper you found this morning on his nightstand.

(The note).

“Pensé en que vinieras a vivir conmigo”.

(I was thinking that you could come to live with me).

That's it. No doubts. No questions.

“¿Vivir juntos? ¿Acá?”

(Live together? Here?)

“Sí, acá”. Javier says puckering his lips, moving his mustache funnily. “¿Qué tiene de malo, pues?”

(Yeah, here. What's wrong?)

“Nada, nada… Está bien, me parece chévere”.

(Nothing, it's okay, I like it).

“¿Te parece chévere?” He scoffs sitting up, turning his head towards yours.

(Do you —just— like it?)

“Sí, ¿qué pasó?”

(Yeah, what's up?)

“Pensé que… no sé… que estarías feliz”.

(I thought... I don't know... You'd be happy).

Raising your eyebrows not believing what he's saying, you roll your eyes moving your arms around his neck to push him back again.

“No seas pendejo, Javi… Estoy más que feliz”.

(Don't be an idiot, Javi... I'm more than happy).

Embracing him tightly to your chest, you sink your nose into his neck taking a deep breath from his scent, almost dizzying you.

“Mírate… de perro callejero a perro casero”. You chuckle close to his ear, biting softly his earlobe.

(Look at you... from stray dog to domesticated dog).

“Pendeja…”

[cursestothemoon]

Idk something about a feisty hufflepuff (I’m imagining one who will go head to head with someone about basic human rights every person should have) and perhaps Ginny being like damn gotta date this girl

this would be so cute oh my gOD 

ok so she first gets wind of you during fifth year

it happened to work out that you, ginny and draco all had a free period at the same time

and draco starts being a quite literal used q-tip 

using ‘mudblood’

blabbing about his parents and how useless hogwarts is now

hes just being an arrogant aSS

and honestly ginny is tired of it 

but before she could get a word out 

you beat her to it 

“dRACO COULD YOU GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND SHUT THE FUCK UP”

then you go off about how using ‘mudblood’ to refer to someone is disrespectful and rude 

you also use some colorful words to tell him what you’d do to him if you caught him being a  “dummy little blonde biTCH” again

from that point on i think ginny is pretty sure she’s in love with you

and i think she’d be one of two ways with her feelings 

either she’s totally upfront and confident about them 

if someone asks

damn right she fancies you

or she pretends like she doesn't have feelings for you

“i just think she's...cool.”

but then you’d walk into the room and its just ❤️👄❤️

her and fred have the same ‘im in love’ face 

she asks him and george how to ask you out because it’s just stupid wasting all this time and not dating you

oK IN THE BOOKS FRED AND GEORGE GIVE RON A BOOK ABOUT FLIRTING WITH GIRLS 

THEY GIVE THE SAME BOOK TO GINNY

“We owe this book so much.”

“...you want me to read a book on how to flirt...thats kinda....lame”

“acTUALLY-”

she reads the book

she wont tell anyone

but she reads the book

and within a week she's ready 

honestly she was ready before but now she's really ready

you guys have herbology together 

it just fits 

pLEASE GINNY WOULD MAKE YOUR PARTNER SWITCH AND THEN SHED SWOOP IN AND TAKE THEIR PLACE 

“hey, I’m ginny and let me te-”

“i know who you are, with a face like that how could i not?”

then you wink and ginny’s mind just goes BRRRR

the book didn’t cover T H I S 

but fuck the book

“does that mean you’d say yes to letting me take you on a date?”

“sure. im paying.”

the date is so much fun

you guys would instantly click 

by the end you guys are holding hands

ginny is laughing into your neck

and she’s mentally writing a letter to molly asking if she could bring you round for Christmas 

ok so you guys are now a couple 

and a POWER COUPLE AT THAT 

you guys would not hold back from putting people in their place when they deserved it

wait

i want you to picture something

you are going oFF on someone who was being racist 

and ginny knows you can handle yourself so she’s just leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smirking at you

and you know her thoughts are getting a little ~steamy~

because her girlfriend is so aTTRACTIVE WHEN SHE IS YELLING AT IGNORANT PEOPLE

GOD ✋🏻

she is so proud of you 

and will constantly tell people about you

will not shut up about you

i love ginny.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@maraudersgirlxx 

@maybesandohnos

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Jessica!

Title: Twinsane

A/N: Jessie, You already know Burns and I are big fans of your characters and stories, in particular your Leo and Drake. The three of us made our big writing debuts at the same time in the Summer of 2019 and became fast friends that have continued through every high and low we’ve each experienced in our lives. You’ve always been a great and supportive friend with a big heart and a bit of a funny bone. We both hope you have an amazing birthday and we wish you all the best in the coming year.

This story takes place in a universe created by @jessiembruno​.

Palace -- Throne Room

Liam paced the ancient throne room, site of their infant daughter’s upcoming anointing and baptism. Everything seemed to be in place; Regina had made sure of it despite the cast on her arm from her latest sex injury. 

Still, he worried. 

Not because of terrorist threats, not because of Lilyana possibly blowing out her diaper and ruining a $2,000 christening gown. No, he had two concerns: 

His brother and his brother-in-law. 

His wife tried to console him about it, but every time she did, the new father threw his hands up in the air and said, “I don’t want to talk about that stupid pendejo. I just can’t with him --” and the fights they had afterward weren’t worth it.

Leo had passed two kidney stones on the day Lilyana was born. Liam felt bad for him; he really did. Everything he’d heard about passing kidney stones was that it was a truly painful ordeal. 

But Leo, as always, had taken things too far. 

First of all, he’d named them: Rocky and Peter. He referred to them as “the twins,” and everywhere he went, that goddamn jar went with him. It was embarrassing to be somewhere with him in public and then to hear the telltale rattling as he adjusted change in his pocket. 

That was nothing, though, compared to when he’d bought “the twins” a Silver Cross Balmoral pram at the eye-popping price tag of seven grand. It was both nicer and more expensive than Jessica and Liam’s $2,700 Bugaboo by Diesel stroller; Liam had thrown a fit. And not just because Leo had charged them both to Liam’s credit card. 

“We are carting around a royal baby! You spent seven thousand dollars on a grocery cart for your goddamn kidney stones?” 

Leo, puffing out his chest, had merely clutched the jar of medical waste to his heart. “My children are royal adjacent, thank you very much.”  

At least Drake understood that the elder Rys brother was off his rocker, but since Drake flew all the way off the handle every time the subject was mentioned, Liam tried to avoid the inevitable blowups. Just last week, there had been an … incident at a formal dinner.

“Drake, will you watch the boys while I take a piss?” Leo had extended the jar toward the surly dark-haired man. 

“Get those fucken things away from me, Leo! Those were in your fucken dick! What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Liam had tried to calm Drake down -- Princess Lesedi looked absolutely horrified at the outburst -- but as usual, Leo just made things worse. 

Huffing loudly, he proclaimed, “Lilyana was in Jessica’s bacon hole, and I don’t hear you complaining about that, Drake. You hold her all the time, but you never take the twins when I ask! I am through with this open favoritism!”

Only Alyssa, quietly intervening and taking the jar, had prevented a full-on brawl from breaking out. But since she started to cry when Drake refused to hold her hand afterward even following a thorough handwashing, the crisis hadn’t really been averted in the end. 

Thinking of Drake only led Liam to ruminate on Mateo, his brother-in-law. Nearly a year before, when the four friends had attended a Yankees game with Jessica’s brothers, Mateo had made a sloppy pass at Alyssa without knowing she was in a relationship. 

Well, to be more precise, he’d actually talked about Alyssa in front of her face, not realizing she spoke Spanish, and told his brother “Alyssa can sit on my face.” 

The only thing that had saved the weekend from devolving into complete anarchy was that Drake didn’t know enough Spanish to translate. But someone -- probably shit-starting Leo -- had explained Mateo’s words to Drake, and now Alyssa’s new husband was out for blood. 

If any of them ruin my little princess’ day, Liam swore to himself, I will murder them. I’m king. I can pardon myself. 

------------

Palace -- Ballroom

Lilyana was properly anointed and baptized. At the head table, overlooking the large gathering as he cradled his daughter in his arms, Liam looked over the party with a sigh of relief and scooped up another forkful of chicken tagine. Everything had gone off without a hitch, and now they just needed to feed all these people, hand the princess off to Regina or one of her doting aunts or uncles, and he could spirit his wife away to take his “royal scepter” anywhere she wanted it. 

His eyes tracked to Leo, who was in rapt conversation with Penelope across the room. When Leo pulled the jar out of his pocket, Liam threw back his entire scotch in disgust. 

Jessica, resplendent in a new Ana de Luca original, came back to the table. “God, these fucken people are intolerable, Liam. How much longer --” Her words were cut off when Liam wrapped his hand around her wrist. 

“My love, give our daughter to her grandmother. Te necesito. Ahora,” he added, eyes locked on hers. (I need you. Now.)

She took the baby from his arms and brought Lilyana to Alyssa. “The princess needs some time with her Auntie Lyss.” 

Alyssa smirked as she kissed the infant’s sweet-smelling head. “And the queen needs to get her back blown out?” 

Jessica tossed her hair. “Fuck yeah.” 

Alyssa high-fived her before she walked away. 

------------

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

“You’re so gorgeous, love,” Liam grunted, gripping a fistful of Jessica’s hair and tugging her head back, exposing her throat to his lips and teeth. 

She shuddered at the feeling, reaching for his thick length. “We don’t have a lot of time …” 

“We have as much time as it takes.” He unzipped the dress and slid it down her body, admiring the curves that had only become lusher with motherhood. Lowering her to the bed, Liam’s lips moved over Jessica’s breasts and stomach. He toyed with the waistband of her underwear. 

“Liam, please --”

The panties dropped to the ground, and her plea melted into a throaty groan at the first swipe of his tongue. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” 

“Yes, love,” he said against her, working her with his hands and mouth. “Dámelo.” (Give it to me.)

She was still shaking with her release when Liam crawled over her, his rigid cock probing between her thighs. “Now, muñeca.” 

Something crashed against the door. 

------------

Palace -- Ballroom 

To his delight, Leo had reunited with Miss Willoughby, his fourth-grade teacher. Though she was no longer as perky as he remembered and had grown an unfortunate goiter, she listened attentively to Leo’s stories about his children. 

She had had a lot of champagne. 

“Do you have a picture?” she asked at last, after Leo had regaled her with the tale of taking Peter and Rocky grocery shopping for the first time. 

“Even better than that.” Leo proudly reached into his jacket pocket. “Boys, I’d like you to meet Miss Willoughby.” 

The teacher shrank back with concern. “Leo … what -- what is that?” 

“They are Rocky and Peter.” He pointed to each stone as he introduced them. “Their birth was excruciating, but it was worth every moment of pain.” 

Miss Willoughby rubbed her misshapen throat lump. “Are those --” 

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Technically they are kidney stones. But the word ‘kid’ is right in there! Love makes a family, Miss Willoughby. Not your status as ‘human.’” He punctuated the last word with finger quotes of disgust.

------------

On the other side of the room, Drake’s gaze narrowed on a familiar face. “Devereaux!” he hissed. 

Alyssa looked up from where she had been singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to Lilyana. “What?” 

“Is that Jess’ fucken brother?” 

She bit her lip. It was Mateo, but no way was she letting Drake get involved in a brawl at the princess’ anointing, for Christ’s sake. “I don’t remember.” 

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t remember’?” 

Waving a breezy hand, Alyssa hastily tried to defuse the situation. “Oh, I was drinking a lot that day.” 

“A lot for you. Not for your average 15-year-old,” he snickered, agreeing. 

To Alyssa’s relief, the man had slipped out of sight. “Well, be that as it may, you should let that Mateo thing go. Everything’s cool.” 

He scowled. “It is not. I know he’s here today! I’m going to find him and kick the shit out of him.” 

-----------

“You should call me Roberta.” 

Leo raised his eyebrows. “Miss Willoughby -- Roberta. I would be delighted to.” 

She set down her flute. “You certainly grew up handsome …” 

Smoothing his blond locks back into place, Leo gave her a rakish grin. “Why, Roberta. How forward of you.” 

“Is there somewhere we can get away?” She reached out and gripped his ass with surprising strength. 

“I guess that depends on how much you’ve had to drink.” 

“The perfect amount.” Her hand slid around to the front, grappling with the front of his pants. 

“Whoooooooa. Well, in that case, yes. We can get away.” 

------------

Alyssa handed Lilyana to Drake in another attempt at distraction, nervous about the way he was pacing the room. “Uh, I have to use the bathroom. Can you take the baby?”

He was already cooing at Lilyana, assuaging Alyssa’s nerves until she made out the words. “And Uncle Drake’s gonna beat the fuck out of your Uncle Mateo ... yes, he is! Yes, he is!”

“Drake!” she gritted. 

“Because nofuckingone talks about your Auntie Lyssa like that; no, they do not!” he continued in a singsong voice, ignoring Alyssa completely. 

She rolled her eyes and headed out of the ballroom, content that he at least wouldn’t start any physical fights with a baby in his arms. 

------------

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Jessica sat up with a start, unfortunately bending Liam’s manhood at an awkward angle. He screamed. 

“Who the fuck is at the door?” Her shrewd eyes, trained to find danger, scanned the room. She threw Liam’s jacket on -- their size difference meant it fit her like a gigantic robe -- and grabbed her taser. 

“Love, wait!” Liam struggled up from the bed, wincing at the pain in his dick. 

“Goddammit, Leo!” Jessica screeched upon throwing the door open. 

Her brother-in-law’s bare ass, driving rhythmically toward a faceless someone who was pressed against the opposite wall, greeted her. 

“Jess! Fuck!” Leo slowed. “Sorry, Roberta, hang on.” Continuing to hold her against him as a shield, he craned his head around to look at her. “I’m a little busy right now. What?” 

She slammed the door closed. “Liam, get dressed.” 

“What the fuck is going on?” The king complied, his good mood completely dissipated. 

“Your fucken brother is banging someone outside our door. I’m pretty sure his ass is the crashing sound we heard. His naked ass touched the door. I’m having maintenance replace it tomorrow!” 

------------

Palace -- Hallway Outside Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Leo struggled back into his pants, grateful that his partner had kept her dress on. “Miss W -- Roberta, I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to cut this short. Er, not that anything about me is short, obviously. But I’m pretty sure my brother’s about to come out here --” 

The door flew open. “LEO, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Liam raged. 

“Run!” Leo grabbed Roberta’s hand and took off running down the corridor, jacket in his other hand. 

------------

Palace -- Ballroom 

Alyssa hadn’t come back, but the more Drake stared at the man he had noticed earlier, the more he was convinced it was Mateo Garcia. 

That fucker. 

Lilyana had fallen asleep against his chest. He wasn’t going to disturb her or put her in danger, but … 

Drake looked at the abandoned plates of cake on their table. Steadying the baby with his left arm, he picked up a handful of cake and squeezed it experimentally in his fist. Maybe he hadn’t played ball with Liam and Maxwell in a few years, but he still had a decent arm. 

He rose, stalking closer to his target but staying close to the exit for a quick getaway. 

Drake raised his arm and fired. 

The handful of cake exploded against the man’s face. Spluttering, Mateo whipped his head around and roared, “What the fuck was that?” 

Drake and Lilyana slipped out the nearest door, almost colliding with a sweaty Leo, panic in his eyes. 

Leo grabbed Drake’s shoulders, careful to avoid Lilyana’s head. “Drake! We have a crisis on our hands!” 

He listened to Leo with only half his attention; his other ear focused uneasily on the new commotion of screaming and -- was that breaking glass? -- inside the ballroom. 

“So I need you to come on the search mission with me,” Leo finished. 

Drake shook his head to clear it, registering an older woman with a prominent goiter slinking back into the ballroom. “The fuck are you talking about? Did you just finish having sex with that woman?” He jerked a thumb toward Roberta.

The blond man scowled. “I didn’t get to finish, and neither did she, thanks to Jess and Liam’s drama.” 

“But the --” Drake gestured to his neck. 

Leo waved it off. “I hit it from behind. No distracting visuals that way.” 

“You, dickhead!” Drake grimaced. “Thanks for the mental image.” 

“My pleasure. Now, we need to go. Find someone to take the baby. I need you completely focused.” 

“On what? Where the fuck are we going?” 

“Have you not been listening to me? Jesus, Drake! I need you to help me find the twins!” Leo raked his hand through his hair, making it stand on end as his blue eyes burned with obsessive fire. “I took my jacket off when I was nailing Miss Willoughby -- er, Roberta -- and the jar must have fallen out. My children are missing, Drake!” 

Drake nestled Lilyana against his chest and covered one of her ears. “You -- you have lost the fucken plot, Leo. I am not searching for your -- your -- dick rocks!” 

“You were there at their birth, Drake. It hurts me that you take no interest in your godstones.” 

“Stop calling them my ‘godstones’! That is not even a goddamn word --” Drake broke off his rant as Alyssa appeared in the hallway, covered in red. “Jesus Christ! Baby!” He thrust Lilyana into Leo’s waiting arms; the baby woke up and began to cry. “What happened?” 

“Huh? You made the baby cry!” Alyssa went to take Lilyana, but Drake grabbed her.

“Look at you, Devereaux! Where are you bleeding from?” Frantic, he tugged the neckline of her dress aside, exposing her bra. She slapped his hand away. 

“Stop! I’m not bleeding!” 

“But --” He gestured to the bright stain marring her light blue dress. 

She looked down. “Oh, that. Someone dumped gazpacho on me when I was walking through the ballroom.” 

“What?” 

Alyssa pointed. “It’s anarchy in there; didn’t you notice?” 

The men peered into the room. Roughly 40 people, most screaming, flung food at each other, ducking to avoid flying lunch items and using plates and -- in several concerning cases -- overturned tables as shields. 

“What happened?” Leo looked concerned. 

Alyssa noted the guilty look on Drake’s face as she rocked and tried to shush Lilyana. “I think this baby needs to eat. Have you seen Liam or Jess?” 

The question seemed to snap Leo back to reality. “You should look for them, Lyss. Head them off --”

“What do you mean ‘head them off’?” 

But Leo continued, “And in the meantime, Drake and I need to find the twins!” He grabbed a loudly-protesting Drake by the arm and dragged him down the hall. 

A moment after they turned the corner, Alyssa, still rocking the baby, was startled by her voice from behind her. She turned her head to see Liam and Jessica stalking rapidly toward her. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back!” 

Jessica took Lilyana, cuddling her. “Let’s go eat.” Stepping into the ballroom, she shrieked, “What the fuck?” 

------------

“I need you to help me file a missing persons report,” Leo said 15 minutes later, after they had repeatedly combed the hallways looking for the jar of kidney stones. “My children are in danger!” 

“Stop calling them your fucken children!” 

Leo pressed his lips together with frustration. “I went through two hours of labor and five minutes of pushing, all for your GODSTONES! The least you can do is help report the twins’ disappearance and bring them back to their Papi Chulo.” 

He was saved from Drake’s wrathful retort by a notification on Drake’s phone. “Oh, no you don’t,” Drake muttered, typing furiously on his keyboard. 

“What are you doing?” Leo huffed impatiently. 

“Someone outbid me for this lure I really want.” Drake finished typing and sucked in a breath. “Ohhhhh shit.” 

“What now?” 

Raking a hand through his hair, Drake extended his phone toward Leo. “Uhhhhh, I think you better look at this.” 

“HOberta69? Drake, don’t buy anything from a seller with that name -- holy shit!” he exclaimed as he looked closer. 

He clicked the link; the phone screen filled with his own image. “Yeah,” video Leo said, “it hurt like a son of a bitch when I pushed these li’l fellers out, but that’s parenthood!” He held up the jar and shook it. “The rascals.” 

Drake covered his face with his palm. “You are so fucken embarrassing.” 

“This fucken kidnapper! I give her the best two-pump-chumpin’ she’s ever had and this is how the old bag repays me? Oh, the fucken humanity! I will hunt her down! I will throw her in the dungeons! I will --”

“She’s basically holding them for ransom,” Drake said reasonably. “Maybe if you message her …” 

But Leo had already clicked the “buy it now” option. “Thank God I still have Liam’s credit card saved to my account.” 

Drake’s eyes widened. “You paid for the dick rocks? With Liam’s credit card? You know he’s gonna fucken kill you?” 

“Calm your tits, Drake.” Leo heaved a heavy sigh. “You and Alyssa haven’t created a family yet. The first lesson you’re gonna learn when the time comes, though, is that parenthood is full of bullshit sacrifice … and Liam is the lucky guy who gets to make that sacrifice.” 

[schrijverr]

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 8 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: guilt, mentions all te deaths in Alex’s past and blackmail. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Washburn Pamphlet

by A. Ham

This pamphlet is written by Alex Hambleton to deny all rumors surrounding a sexual relationship with Professor George Washburn, Columbia University.

As much as I had vowed to myself not to end up here, I find myself once more having to publicly air my secrets to save myself. This might be news for people surrounding me, for I don’t go about telling everyone about my scandals of lives passed, it seems I have learned after all.

It is quite ironic that I am here once more for the sole reason of doing everything in my power not to be here.

And I could say that I am not.

Maybe I can claim that it is different, because I am denying the rumors and I am not in the wrong this time around. It is not even selfish motifs that caused me to reach for a quill, or, in this case, a keyboard.

But enough dancing around the topic.

I was aware that some people had thoughts and opinions about how I have gotten to where I am, but no one has had to audacity to come up and say them to my face with blackmail as motivation. Lets say I was quite surprised when James Richardson (no I will not be shying away from names) came up to me.

He told me that, unless I got Professor Washburn to pay him 20.000 dollars, the whole school would know how I fucked myself up the ladder by diving into bed with him each Sunday.

Seeing this was the first time I heard I was fucking him (Washburn had not been so kind to inform me, strangely enough), I was quite surprised. Although I have to admit that I cannot deny that I have been visiting the Washburn household each and every Sunday since the summer break, even going as far as to drive over to their summer home in Virginia.

Guilty as charged on that front.

Yes, I am confirming that this is true and I can understand how this feels more like a confession of guilt than the denial it is.

For you have to understand that you think in a too small time frame and in the wrong names. I have already said that I will not shy away from names in this pamphlet, so here I will drop the name of the person I have actually been seeing. I have been seeing George Washington, my General and President under whom I have served for many years back when I was known as Alexander Hamilton.

The time frame is not between the summer break and now, it is over two centuries ago when a great man saw my potential and helped me live up to it.

I am willing to go through the registration process to prove Professor Washington innocence, as well as my own, in the matter. I am also willing to do whatever is necessary to prove that I earned my spot in the accelerated track.

But this is the truth I can offer right now and I hope you will believe me on my word alone.

God knows I am aware that this sounds preposterous and outrageous, for why come out and tell you all now that I am a Founding Father when I could have done so without allegations that needed a story to be disproven?

Well, as everyone knows denying a rumor is the same as confirming it. And the truth is that I do not want to be Alexander Hamilton.

And why would I?

Why would I want to be that man. For all the musical tries to paint me as a hero, or misunderstood, I am so very aware that I did not deserve Elizas forgiveness. I know I threw away my shot the moment I didn’t say no (forgive the reference).

However, it is not just that. I do not want to be the man that did not come to his friends aid in France, I do not want to be the man that cared more about himself than his wife and the abused woman he took advantage off.

Alex Hambleton left Alexander Hamilton behind at birth.

I took this life, my second chance, to be better. I do not wish to walk the same paths and bring down those around me in my misery and mistakes.

Yet here I am.

I took the liberty of finding comfort in the one person who I knew would not share my secret, whom I’d be safe with as I always have been. The home where I could be the entirety of me, a combination of the Founding Father I used to be and the loudmouth student I am now.

And now it is not just me who has to pay the price when people don’t believe me. I tried so hard to write myself out of this story, to not make the same mistakes, but it seems that for all my trying I cannot stop being a death sentence for those around me.

My father still left, my mother held me again while she died, the moment I remembered who I was, was the moment I found my cousin dead. I did not want to believe that this would always be my life until the hurricane hit.

But there it was and it swept my hometown away with the waves and wind. My story is as set in stone and I, for all I claim to be an unstoppable force, cannot seem to move it.

Have you ever smelled death?

Have you ever looked around and seen bodies floating in the water and known that it was your fault?

It was my story that history forces to repeat, my story that caused the deaths of all those people and it is my story that forces a scandal into being and it is my inability to keep me from defending myself that makes me end up here.

Overwhelm them with honesty.

That is what my musical counterpart said and that is the footsteps in which I am walking once again. Though I hope that the small changes I have managed to make, will ensure that the results of my deeds will end up differently.

For those who knew me, I am sorry for the deceit. I hoped by not interacting, I would not pull you down with me once more. I do not wish my misfortune on you again.

But it is not for me that I seek your pity.

I am once more, begging strangers for kindness and understanding of my story. I hope you grant me this mercy and believe me, so that the one person who has always believed in me, no matter how much I did not, can keep his livelihood.

Let his story of success remain unchanged. Let him live his life in peace, knowing he did well and do not exile him in shame for crimes he did not commit.

Believe me not for my sake, but for his.

I could tell you stories of my past life in an attempt to prove myself to you. I could tell you about letters I wrote, words I said, people I loved and lost. I could tell you facts about myself that you can not verify, because I was the only person there to witness them.

But that will not do me any good.

So I write.

I write in the hope that you can find pity and understanding for the bastard, orphan, son of a whore that clung to the only rock, before the eye of hurricane had passed and he was swept up by forces of nature out of his control.

It is the only thing I can do.

I am not religious, yet here I am, praying on two knees to a God that has never listened to me, in the hope I have done enough to change the story I am stuck in.

However, I know my prayers have never been answered with anything but indifference.

Will my prayers be answered this time?

I do not count on it.

So, I will not ask you to pray for me. I will not allow myself to become a victim to lies and slander after I have worked so hard to be better than that person who was. I will not be threatened and blackmailed when I learned from my mistakes and I did not repeat that part.

Instead I ask you to pray for Washington as I am doing.

I ask you to pray for the kind soul that saw my potential and made sure that I could take one step closer to the future I wanted to achieve.

To pray for the man, who gave me shelter over the summer so that I would not be homeless. Pray for the man who gives me dinner one day of the week to ensure I do not starve. Pray for the man who let me read his recommendation letter an unnatural amount of times, so that I could ensure he only helped me based off the things I had achieved not his history with me, because he knew how important it is to me that I make my own spot in the world.

And I pray for his wife, Martha, whom I call Mama M, always have. Mama M, who has been there with open arms and soft words to fill a void that hadn’t been filled in this life or the last, since I was twelve.

I no longer care for your perception of me. You can keep your thoughts to yourself and I can move unaffected by hateful words that have followed me both lifetimes. I am used to it and I do not care about your words.

However, I do care for the two people who cared about me when no one else did. When no one else knew to care.

My shoes have always been worn out from the running I have to do to keep up. I work because I know I am too much of a minority to make it anywhere in the world if I don’t work thrice as hard as my peers.

Immigrant, Latino, bisexual, polyamorous, orphan, bastard.

These words have haunted me until I turned them into badges of honor and the only reason that is, is because I had a home to rest. A place to take of my shoes and get ready to face another day.

That place was the Washingtons home.

So, think of me what you want. Think me a liar who did not earn his place in the world, tell your friends how annoying I am and how you wish I had not made it through my hardships. I do not care for your opinion of me.

But keep them out of it, they do not deserve the slander of my presence for crimes they did not commit and rumors that are not true.

Be the change that prevents the tragedy of a history repeated.

.

Your obedient servant,

.

A. Ham

[dunmertitty]

DONT REBLOG (unless you’re me, but i’m me so i know i can reblog)

blogs i have on this wretched website:

@dunmertitty: active, main blog. supposed to be skyrim/tes (even tho i lose followers every time i post about tes) and just being horny for elves in general but it’s basically everything i don’t have a sideblog for

@abstract-aesthetics: rarely active, sideblog. for anything i find aesthetic or weird. i used to make glitchart but i have zero motivation and now it’s just reblogs.

@jelly-ref: occasionally active, sideblog. retired nonbinary goth dnd character. mostly just for aesthetics.

@newton-duck: not active, sideblog. blog for when taz amnesty was my hyperfixation. i’ll occasionally post stuff, but not really. maybe i’ll move my tazposting to here once i get back into taz graduation.

(there are two blogs here that are reference blogs for current dnd characters so i’m gonna leave these spaces blank until their stories are done)

^

@mettatontrans: occasionally active, sideblog. undertale/deltarune blog, mainly just for reblogging art of mettaton or aesthetic pictures, but i’ll put my deltarune stuff here once the full game is out

@elsatrans: rarely active, sideblog. YES this is a frozen account. shut the fuck up.

@transmilothatch: rarely active, sideblog. disney 2001 atlantis account. it’s my comfort movie.

(adhd account i’m gonna keep private so it’s not used against me): semi-active, sideblog. account where i archive stuff about my adhd and vent and reblog memes and stuff.

(i will never share this account publicly): not active, sideblog.

@thacker-arlo: rarely active, sideblog. another taz amnesty sideblog. usually just forestcore or cottagecore or mosscore or whatever it’s called aesthetic posts, but occasionally taz amnesty posts. also occasionally ecology-centric. who needs coherency in a blog, amirite?

@twotrucksholdinghands: active, sideblog. lemon demon/neil cicierega blog. yes i replied to that one post. yes i’m the funniest person to ever exist

@shirtlessvampire: active, sideblog. account where i post stuff that’s too cringey or edgy for main. i also usually don’t tag triggers on this blog. usually posts aesthetics, vampire/cryptidcore, castlevania (netflix), witcher (netflix), and tma. don’t ask me why, they just vibe together

@throneofloneliness: occasionally active, sideblog. look i don’t have an excuse for this one. i started this account so i wouldn’t annoy people on my main and they wouldn’t unfollow me. yes it’s a rick and morty sideblog. i KNOW it’s cringe. shut up. it started off as a joke but then it was a hyperfixation. shut up. i know.

@transvinniedakota: active, sideblog. unironic phineas and ferb/milo murphy’s law sideblog. was and is a hyperfixation and im SUPER HYPE for the movie this summer.

@transdoofenshmirtz: semi-active, sideblog. evil science aesthetic and funny stuff i guess. idk.

@forgottenmmlfacts: on hiatus, sideblog. yes i know fact accounts are SO 2012 but i really don’t give a shit.

@lovesicklovebird: semi-active, sideblog. lovecore sideblog where im mushy as hell and gay as fuck.

@i-hate-ohio: occasionally active, sideblog. okay so this started out as an inside joke with some fellow ecology majors and i turned it into a blog because i thought i would be funny. the premise of this blog is that we should flood lake erie into the whole state of ohio. it’s completely ironic and i don’t actually believe that.

@robbingbankoutfits: occasionally active, sideblog. fashion sideblog where i reblog pictures of outfits i think would be sexy to rob a bank in.

@kirksfattitties: VERY active, sideblog. star trek sideblog. current hyperfixation.

@strappedspock: not yet active, sideblog. i have no clue what i’m gonna put on this account but i thought of this url and it was free and im NOT giving it up.

@ponfarrofficial: occasionally active, sideblog. i don’t even know. i guess this is where i’m h*rny for vulcans.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Twenty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Twenty-Six

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): Language, Hints at drug use

A/N: This wasn't the entire chapter, however tumblr's being weird and won't even let me create a new draft right now let alone let me upload a 4,044 worded text post so I'll upload the second part of this asap (probably tomorrow of they get their shit fixed on here) and there will be another update Friday. Have a good night:)

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @sinningsixx @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @xpoisonousrosesx @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

-------------------------------------------------------

I smooth my wavey hair down, taking the last giant velcrow roller out before putting my lipstick on and leaving the bathroom, looking for the car keys, unable to find them.

"Nikki, babe, where are the keys?" I call to him, looking in the kitchen and living room, heading to our bedroom.

He's passed out from a night of partying, Robbin still asleep on the floor.

"Baby." I lightly pat Nikki's face, not having the time to patiently shake him awake.

He groans, scrunching his face and rubbing his eyes.

"What is it?" He asks me, exhausted.

"Where are the car keys?"

"Mine or your's?" He questions, blinking at me to clear the sleep from his eyes.

"Your's. I can't drive mine until we get the driver's side window fixed, remember?"

"What? What happened to it?" He sits up and I raise my brows.

"Uh, well, you put your fist through it?" I remind him and he exhales.

"Oh...yeah." He replies. "They're in my pants pocket."

I don't give him time to reach for them himself.

My hand is in his pants pocket, grabbing his keys and pulling them out.

"Bye, love y-love, I'll see you when I get back." I stutter to cover my slip up, cutting myself off immediately before I can say, "love you", even though I've never called Nikki "love" before.

He doesn't notice it.

"See you when you get back." He mumbles once he's laying back down.

I slip my kitten heels on and head out.

"I love you" was one of the biggest Elephants in the room between Nikki and I.

We should have said it and we knew that, but we just didn't say it.

At first I was waiting for him to say it, then he never did...so I just decided it was something we wouldn't do.

Love's an action instead of an emotion, anyway, so I didn't think it was a big deal that neither of us had heard it from the other because we showed each other we loved each other in other ways...until we didn't anymore...and started keeping score, measuring who was winning by who was hurting who more, instead of trying to be better to each other.

I had to face that ugly reality when we were both screaming "I hate you" with Fred and Doc trying to break up one of our argument-turned-near-fist fights backstage at the last North American show of "Girls, Girls, Girls."

That was the night I got pregnant with my first son, Monroe, and the man barking about how much he hated me, isn't the father.

It's safe to say I won.

My heels click down the concrete stairs of the church as I walk to Nikki's black corvette after service is over, furrowing my brows the closer I get, seeing a white slip of paper tucked under the windsheild wiper.

I pluck the paper off and see it's a ticket for $350.00 with "BROKEN TAIL LIGHT" marked on it.

"My tail light isn't broken." I argue to myself, stepping around the back.

The entire left side set of lights are busted with signs of swapped paint where someone hit the car with their's and I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.

I stand and stare at the paper, then the busted light, tears oncoming the more I look at it.

Nikki is going to kill me.

I hear a car pull up behind me and park on the curb of the street but I don't pay any attention, too busy figuring out how to explain this.

"Hey, uh, Vivian?"

I turn to see Duff, wiping my eyes quickly.

"Duff?" I'm caught off guard by my recently new friend. "I've told you just call me 'Viv'." I tell him, sniffling and he furrows his brows, stopping in front of me where I'm now standing by the driver's door of the corvette.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." It's an obvious lie, a pathetic squeak leaving me.

"What's up?" He asks me and I lick my lips and sigh out.

"It's stupid." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

"What happened?"

I just hand him the ticket and he takes in a sharp breath, his brows shooting up.

"Jeezus." He lets out. "You just got this?"

"Yes." My voice cracks and he looks at me with sympathetic eyes.

"Viv, c'mon, it's not that bad. It'll be alright." He tries to reassure me.

"Oh, no, no, no...that's not all." I say, walking to the back and he follows me, not hiding the gasp that leaves his lips. Nikki is going to kill me."

There's a silent pause as I rest against the back of the corevette, crossing my arms, trying to figure out how I'm going to present the $350.00 ticket to my husband.

Duff leans against it beside me, avoiding the broken bits, thinking for a second, too, before reaching into his jacket pocket.

"Here." He grabs my hand, putting a wad of cash into it and I look at him, confused. "For the ticket." He explains and I shake my head.

"N-No. I can't take this from you, you need it." I argue, wiping more tears.

He goes to say something but I cut him short. "If you say that you don't need it, I'm going to hit you. You live in your car, Duff. You've been talking about getting a new place and this is part of the rent for an apartment." I point out, handing the cash back to him.

"Whatever you say." He shrugs, putting it back in his jacket.

We sit for a moment longer before he nudges me with his elbow.

"You hungry?" He asks and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Stop offering to spend your money on me." I chuckle and he smiles.

"Actually, I know a place the both of us can eat and it would only cost the price of one beer." He tells me and I raise my brows.

It was the first of many Sunday lunches at this hotel a few blocks away that offered an "all you can eat" buffet if you just buy a bottle of beer.

I listen as Duff goes on about possible members of the potential band he wants to be a part of.

A drummer named Steven, who has a lot of extra drums in his kit than what's needed but he's a hell of a drummer.

A Johnny Thunders look alike-that isn't that great on a guitar but makes it sound cool anyway-that goes by the name Izzy.

And a kind of weird kid that apparantly has massive hair and is super shy but speaks a billion words a minute through his guitar: Slash.

"And Slash and Steven are buddies, but I don't know if they've ever met Izzy or not." He tells me, sipping the beer neither of us were carded for, even though we're only twenty.

"What style of singer do you have in mind?" I ask, taking a bite out of my mozerella stick.

"Someone who gets the punk scene, but not necessarily a punk singer." He tells me and I wrinkle my nose. "Don't do that." He points at me, knowing exactly what I'm about to say.

"Punk?"

"Don't say it like that." He laughs. "You don't like it because you don't understand it."

"I understand it and I respect it, I just don't..." I try to choose my words. "...I like some of it, but most of it I don't really care for."

"How the hell do you survive not liking punk? It's the biggest 'fuck you' to societal standards." He defends the genre.

"I like the Ramones, The Stooges, the New York Dolls." I tell him, even though they were all acquired tastes because I have to listen to them so much due to Nikki.

"What about The Sex Pistols?" Duff suggests.

"I did, until Sid killed Nancy." I shrug.

"Oh, c'mon, Viv, you really believe that propaganda bullshit made up by the conservative media to further their anti-punk/rock agenda and get a good check? He did not kill her." He argues.

"They'd been binging on all kinds of drugs for weeks. I'm not saying he meant to, maybe he was hallucinating and genuinely didn't realize it was her until it was too late, but he did it." I state.

"Nope."

"Oh, okay, so it was the body guard?"

"I think it was a double suicide attempt." He explains and I lean back. "His just didn't work."

"If it was a double suicide, why didn't he just use the knife she used and bleed to death like she did?" I question.

"Maybe he didn't want to be stabbed."

"If he was going to die, what would it matter?" I ask and he shakes his head a little with a small grin pulling at his lips.

"Hi, my name is Vivian Estine Sixx and I can argue with a brick wall for five hours straight." He mocks me and I cut my eyes at him.

We just stare at each other, and he attempts to take another drink of his beer while we have our staring contest, and the both of us crack up simultaneously, and he sprays beer through his lips and nose, further egging my laughter on.

I get home around four in the afternoon after spending three hours talking to Duff, and my stomach's sore from laughing so much.

"Viv?" Nikki calls from the bathroom and I walk in to see him teasing his hair.

He's shirtless, his black jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing some of his pubic hair and I lick my lips.

"Did you have fun?" He asks in a teasing tone, referring to the oh-so-wild church service I attend as much as I can, and I roll my eyes and lean against the sink beside him, crossing my arms.

"Yes, I did." I reply, not able to meet his eyes because I'm too focused on his exposed skin.

"What took you so long to get back?" He asks next.

I know, I know, "if it was innocent then there should be nothing to hide and you should be able to tell him you were with another man."

It wasn't Tommy, Mick, Robbin or Vince, and he never met Duff.

He didn't trust men he'd never met around me.

So if I would have told him, I would have never heard the end of it.

"Long sermon." I lie, and he looks at me and furrows his brows.

"Have you been crying? Your mascara's smudged." He tells me, his thumb swiping right under my bottom lash line to wipe away dried mascara and I'm suddenly hit with the realization that I have a $350.00 ticket.

"It was a good sermon." I say.

He finishes his hair, turning to look at me.

"Me and the guys are going to the Rainbow tonight." He tells me. "You're comin', right?"

"Yes." I nod, grinning.

"Good. I gotta go get the oil changed and I'll be back to pick you up." He steps out of the bathroom to go get dressed and I follow him.

Once he's got his t-shirt that has "FUCK" written across the front, he's pulling his jacket and boots on.

When he's gotten his boots on, he stands up from the matress of our bed, and I grab at the top of his jeans, pulling him closer to me, standing on my tip toes to press my lips to his.

He kisses me, his hands holding at either side of my jaw.

When we pull away, he smiles, kissing my cheek before grabbing his keys and leaving.

The second he's gone I'm darting to my purse, attempting to find the ticket, praying I didn't leave it in the car.

Once I see it's not in my purse, I let out a deep breath and worry that I've lost it.

"Damnit." I mumble, trying to remember the last place I had it. "The church parkinglot with Duff but..." I trail off, thinking of the possibility of it being left in the parkinglot and I groan out.

There's no way it's still there if that's where it got left.

I decide to figure it out later and go wash away my worn off makeup before reapplying it and changing clothes, waiting for Nikki to get back.

I'm finishing putting on ruby red lipstick when I hear the front door slam and I tense up and put the cap back on the tube before peeking my head out the door and seeing Nikki put his keys and a piece of paper on the counter, frustration taking a stance in his movements.

Pretending nothing's wrong, I walk out of the bathroom and across the floor to our bedroom to grab my purse and put my heels on.

Once they're on, I walk back into the kitchen smile at him.

"C'mon, babe." I nudge him as I walk past him to get to the door.

He grabs my arm, though, causing me to stop and he pulls me back, pushing me against the counter, trapping me when he puts his hands on the counter on either side of me and his face is centimeters from mine.

"You wouldn't know anything about the completely shattered tail light on my car, would you?" He asks me calmly.

"No?" I lie, trying to seem confused, but it's clear he's not buying it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He just stares at me and I slide my hands up and down his arms, smiling nervously.

"Can we go, now?" I ask, kissing his cheek.

"I spent $100.00 to get it fixed today." He explains. "Did you back into something or did someone hit the car?"

"I told you I didn't even know about it, babe." I argue calmly. "Can we leave and just go back and forth about this later? We're gonna be late."

He gives me one last stare before sighing out, letting me go and I make sure to beat him to the car by several strides, frantically searching for the ticket when I get in, not finding it, before he gets in beside me.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: The French Test (Fic Part 157. Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places. Please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts.

Tags: @tantamount-treason @piratewithvigor

Reference Posts: 'Giantess'/'Blacklight Bandit' Kirby Roussimoff x Shane 'Hurricane' Helms (Circa 2001)

"You do it almost too well. Hell, I'd fuck me."

"Il faudrait faire la queue derrière moi et Shannon, mari exquis."

"A line I'll be glad to stand in."

"Je veux voir combien de temps il faut à l'un d'eux pour me demander d'arrêter de parler en français." Kirby murmurs as she leads Helms downstairs to re-join the rest of the group before they leave for the mall.

"If they do, they can take it up with me."

"salut tout le monde, on est prêt, tu filmes tout aujourd'hui Matt?"

Matt looks to Helms, who discreetly nods.

"J'espère que vous savez tous que la confusion que vous ressentez lorsque je parle une autre langue est la même confusion que je ressens parfois en écoutant de l'anglais toute la journée"

"So she's gonna be French today so she can be comfortable for once." Helms explains.

Delilah giggles as she walks back to the car.

"J'ai oublié de préciser, Delilah comprend le français." Kirby admits sheepishly.

"Glad it's not just me."

Kirby snuggles up to Helms' arm as Matt leads the group out to Delilah's people-carrier.

"Shane, you and Kirby are in the back behind me and Lita." Matt murmurs to Helms as he climbs in.

"Yes sir." Helms nods.

It doesn't take long for the group to be on the road and Matt to be asking all sorts of questions.

"So, Shane, how many weeks pregnant is Kirby and how does it feel to be a dad?"

"Just about ten weeks now. And it's fantastic."

"Il dit qu'actuellement les hormones de grossesse me bottent le cul." Kirby adds as she nuzzles her face into his shoulder.

"Yeah, they're kicking her ass hard."

"Et grâce à être enceinte, mes seins sont plus gros qu'avant."

Helms blushes a little, "Yeah, that too."

"Ne fais pas comme si tu ne les regardes pas." Kirby teases.

"Well, yeah, but I can still blush about it."

"Si tu veux que je me taise, tu dois m'embrasser."

"Working on it."

Kirby smirks as Matt turns the camera to face Jeff and Delilah. Delilah's driving and Jeff is watching her like she's an angel come to Earth.

"Jeff, I love you, but stop staring, it's starting to distract me." Delilah whispers.

"I know, I'm sorry, I can't help it."

Shannon shakes his head as he looks over at Helms and Kirby, attempting to resist the urge to squeeze Kirby's ass. He's sitting on Kirby's other side with full access. It's when Kirby wiggles her butt slightly while teasing Helms that Shannon can't resist any longer and grabs her butt, making Kirby half-squeak, half-moan in response.

"Messing with my wife, blondie?" Helms smirks.

"She was tempting me." Shannon protests.

"je ne te tentait pas du tout." Kirby states flatly.

"I can't fully blame him, sweetheart," Helms says gently, "Your ass is delectable."

"And it's within grabbing distance." Shannon adds.

"vous êtes tous les deux adorables mais stupides"

"Just glad you didn't cuss us out." Helms grins sheepishly.

Kirby pulls Helms into a heated kiss, swatting Shannon's hands away when he goes to grab her ass again.

"Can I touch it if he can't?"

"Oui, mon mari."

"Sweeeet."

Kirby giggles as Helms pulls her into a heated kiss, grabbing her ass and getting slightly risqué about it. He squishes it happily, almost wiggling.

"Oh, mon mari, je vous dirais de continuer, mais il semble que nous nous arrêtions maintenant au centre commercial." Kirby whispers.

"Aw man, we are, aren't we?"

"tu peux toujours me serrer contre toi avec ta main sur mes fesses si tu veux." Kirby suggests as Delilah parks.

"Mm, that does sound like a dream."

Kirby follows Helms out of the car, holding him close as Matt narrates their journey into the mall. He's got his arm wrapped around her the whole way.

"Ouragan d'amour, qu'avons-nous besoin d'obtenir pour le bébé?" Kirby asks gently.

"Clothes. Babies shit all the time and there's never enough laundry."

"Parfois j'aimerais ne pas demander."

"Kirby, I heard that there's a baby store next to the food court." Delilah smiles as she walks hand-in-hand with Jeff beside the Helms'.

"Sounds like a perfect first stop."

The moment Jeff and Kirby see the baby store they both seem to light up, Kirby squeaks with excitement and Jeff pulls Delilah into a tight hug from behind. The way Jeff hugs Delilah makes Helms suspect the two of them might have decided they couldn't wait for a wedding, but he doesn't say anything. Kirby almost drags Helms in behind her, the way the two look immediately catches people's eyes and starts the one thing Kirby hates the most about being out in public, the whispers that are definitely about them.

"Honey, no one except the people in our group. Remember that, okay?" He whispers.

"oui, mon amour, j'ai juste un peu peur de ce qu'ils pourraient dire parce que je n'ai jamais été en public pendant ma grossesse auparavant." Kirby whispers back.

"Something to get used to."

Kirby nods before giggling at one of the baby-grows, nudging Helms' arm and pointing it out. Without a word, Helms adds it to the cart.

Kirby almost doubles over laughing at the next one she finds, immediately handing it to Helms.

"Hilarious, but I also wanted to fuck you." He grins devilishly.

"je sais, mon amour…" Kirby picks up another one, "Oui ou non?"

"Oh yes."

Kirby places it in the basket and gives Helms a quick kiss on the cheek before going back to looking.

"Still doesn't feel real sometimes that you're making a person who's gonna wear these onesies."

"ça n'a pas l'air réel, pour l'homme qui m'a mis enceinte en premier lieu, quoi, comme un mari n'est pas censé mettre sa femme enceinte?" Kirby jokingly teases.

"Hey, tall ass, this is America, learn to speak English!" Another customer hollers in Kirby's direction.

"Hey, shortass, she's speaking French to keep nitwit inbreds like you from eavesdropping!" Helms yells back, keeping a firm grip on Kirby's hand.

The woman only seems to get angrier, her husband has to hold her back.

"Oh, and for your information, you fat, pig-headed dullard, I speak English just fine, and could easily tear your skull off the rest of your spine and use it to play kickball." Kirby adds.

"Nice touch." Helms whispers, chuckling.

"Merci beaucoup mon amour." Kirby whispers as she pulls another baby-grow off the shelves to show Helms.

"Ooh, do they have any green lantern ones?"

Kirby hands Helms another one, kissing him gently and messing with his hair slightly.

"Perfect. Both the onesie and you."

Kirby blushes a light pink, burying her face in Helms' neck.

"I love you so much."

Kirby squeaks in response, kissing his neck softly.

"Trying to get me hot 'n' bothered while shopping?"

"peut-être, si ça te mènera à me foutre la cervelle dans la salle de bain."

His cheeks only grow more pink, "really hope Delilah isn't within earshot." He chuckles.

"elle est trop occupée à essayer de convaincre Jeff de ne pas acheter littéralement tout dans le magasin depuis l'entrée." She whispers to Helms.

"Good. Then let's do it."

Kirby's eyes light up with excitement as she leads Helms to the bathroom, double checking that their alone before locking the door and sliding her underwear off. He pulls himself out of his suit pants, basically able to just fuck her against the wall now.

"Oh Shane." Kirby murmurs as she pulls Helms into a heated kiss.

He's not neat with his kisses, letting their lipstick smear together. Kirby slides her dress up slightly, giving him a look at how wet she already is. He smirks as he slides into her, grasping one of her legs to keep the right angle. Kirby moans in pleasure, shifting her weight slightly to pull Helms closer and kiss him roughly but passionately.

"God, I love you."

"mon roi vampire, tu es le seul homme que j'aimerai jamais, peu importe ce qui se passe entre nous, d'ici la fin des temps, je t'aimerai."

"Same here, my love. You have domain over my soul."

"Rwy'n dy garu di." Kirby whispers, kissing his neck and nipping at his skin softly.

"You're too beautiful."

"Pardonnez le fait que je vais parler en gallois, mais vous méritez d'entendre cela dans ma langue maternelle," Kirby pauses to take a deep breath and collect her thoughts, "rydych chi'n olygus ac yn garedig, ac rydych chi'n gwneud i mi deimlo fel tywysoges pan rydw i yn eich breichiau, gyda'n gilydd rydyn ni'n ddi-rwystr ond ar wahân rydyn ni'n ddau hanner calon a oedd bob amser yn perthyn yn gyfan ond byth yn ei hadnabod nes i'r naill ochr gwrdd â'r llall. Byddaf yn caru bob fyff sydd gennyf gyda chi nes na fydd gennyf fwy o ddiwrnodau ar ôl, byddaf yn gofalu amdanoch yn eich oriau tywyllaf a byddaf yn torheulo yng ngolau eich ecstasi a'ch cariad, oherwydd eich un yw'r cariad, oherwydd eich un chi yw'r caraiad puraf a deimlais," Kirby blushes as she looks into Helms' eyes, "Would you, uhm,would you like a translation?"

"Yes please." He murmurs, blushing.

"You are handsome and kind, and you make me feel like a princess when I am in your arms, together we are unstoppable, but apart we are two halves of a heart that always belonged whole but never knew it until one side met the other. I will love each day I have with you until I have no more days left, I will care for you in your darkest hours and I will bask in the glow of your ecstasy and love, for yours is the purest love I have felt."

Helms almost stops his hips as her words hit him, his cheeks growing bright red and words escape him, "thank you."

"It felt more natural to say it in Welsh, but you don't speak Welsh fluently so sometimes when I want t express my love for you, the words escape me." Kirby explains softly, blushing a deep red.

"Fy ngwraig, ti yw fy myd." He says slowly, trying to remember the words he taught himself and praying he's pronouncing them properly."

"gwanaethoch chi ddysgu rhywfaint o Gymraeg i chi'ch ei siarad mor hyfryd a … fy arglwydd Rwy'n dy garu gymaint." Kirby whispers as she kisses as much of his skin as possible.

"Only a little, sweetheart. It's tough to learn." He chuckles sheepishly.

"Well, not every language uses y as a main vowel, so I will forgive you if you learn it over a decade or two, but as long as you eventually understand what I'm saying, I will love you forever."

"I'll do my best. I swear I will."

"Shane, you are my soulmate, and I love you, and that is the nicest way I can say how much I love you in English."

"Dwi'n byw i chi. Byddwn i'n marw i chi." He whispers

"Don't go seeking death, my love, squeeze as much out of life first." Kirby whispers, kissing his forehead.

"I plan to."

"And squeezing as much out of life doesn't just mean squeezing my tits or ass."

"Of course not. It's squeezing all of you. It's squeezing our baby in a hug for the first time. Feeling you squeeze me."

"Every single day and in every way imaginable, I will squeeze you, my hero… I'll share you with Shannon, but mostly you are my hero."

"Speaking of Shannon… should we invite him in here for a little extra fun?"

Kirby takes a moment to think about it, "Yeah, sure, but you fuck me first, ya big dicked idiot."

"Of course. I just want him to come in and lick your pretty pussy clean once I'm done filling it." He smirks.

"You sly fox." Kirby purrs.

"You say that, but he'd love it."

"Has he ever eaten someone out before, except for me?" Kirby asks gently.

"To my knowledge, you're his one and only woman."

"Well, yay for me, but I can't be his only forever, mainly because I'm yours forever, hence the wedding ring… and the baby bump, and the vows, you get the picture."

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Spread Your Wings - Pt. 3: While you were sleeping...

Summary: Reader is a HYDRA experiment (like the Maximoffs, but not voluntary) who grows wings (like Angel from X-Men). She escapes (escape covered in Prologue) and is now trying to rescue and prevent further kidnappings and experiments.

Word Count: 1953

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of past torture. I used google translate for the Portuguese in this chapter, so there’s likely more than a few typos…

A/N: Here it is. A very, very large THANK YOU to both @imhereforbvcky, and @writingwithadinosaur, for their general wonderfulness and amazing writing skills! I have tagged everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on the prologue, if you would like to be tagged, or untagged, just let me know! There’s a few POV changes here FYI

(Translations updated 11/12/17 with help from @elaacreditava)

Updated: 9/6/18

Spread Your Wings Masterlist

Bucky’s POV

As the last word left her lips, her body froze, her muscles all tensed, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She collapsed on the ground, her body convulsing.

Bucky and Nat ran, Bucky moving to stabilize Y/N’s head and Nat moving to the small boy who had been revealed when Y/N fell; talking to him quietly. Wanda and Tony came to crouch by Y/N while Steve called for Sam and the rest of the team to bring the quinjet for a quick exit.

“The fuck is happening?!” Bucky asked Tony and Wanda.

“That chip in her head is malfunctioning. F.R.I.D.A.Y. says this seems like something that happens frequently.”

“It is,” Wanda confirmed quietly, “She’s had these seizures multiple times. HYDRA put the chip there. As long as it got the job done, they didn’t care that it hurt her. ” Wanda rested her hand on Y/N’s forehead and Y/N relaxed a little.

“Assuming she even wants to keep that thing, I can probably fix it so it doesn’t try to kill her anymore,” Tony mumbled, running his hands through his hair and over his face.

“Y/N?” a small voice called from over Bucky’s shoulder. He turned his head so he could look at the little boy’s face while still keeping his hands on Y/N.

“Ela ficará bem?”(Will she be alright?)

“Sim, ela ficará bem. Ela é dura,” (Yes, she’ll be okay. She’s tough) Bucky answered reassuringly. When Tony gave him the okay, Bucky picked Y/N up as gently as possible, careful of her injured wing, and tucked her to his chest.

“Ela estava te ajudando?”(She was helping you?) At the boy’s nod, Bucky asked, “Você nos deixaria ajudá-lo agora também?” (Would you let us help you now too?). The boy didn’t answer right away, looking uncertainly to Y/N.

“Nós vamos cuidar de Y/N,” (We're going to take care of Y/N) Natasha assured, moving from behind the boy to in front of him and just slightly in front of Bucky and Y/N.

“Vamos, ela vai querer vê-lo quando ela acordar” (Come on, she'll want to see you when she wakes up,) Bucky shot the kid a small smile and tilted his head towards the alley exit. The boy nodded and followed when Bucky began to walk.

As the boy closed the distance between them, Bucky got a better look at his face, and his eyes. He had snake like eyes.

“Você consegue ver as cores? Ou é tudo diferentes tons da mesma cor?” (Can you see colors? Or is everything different shades of the same color?) Bucky asked conversationally once they were on the jet headed home.

The boy, who introduced himself as Tomas, blinked and tilted his head a bit before saying, “Não tenho certeza.” (I’m not sure).

Bucky spent the rest of the flight asking Tomas questions, and answering many in return. The Avengers and Y/N fascinated Tomas as much as Tomas’ eyes fascinated Bucky.

They took both Y/N and Tomas to the compound. Once Y/N was settled in medical, Bucky and Steve showed Tomas around a little. Tony asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to watch out for him, and tweaked the language parameters so that Tomas could communicate with the AI.

By the time Tomas was situated in a spare room with F.R.I.D.A.Y. monitoring him, Bucky was exhausted. He had forgotten how high-energy little kids could be. He was walking into Y/N’s room before he had consciously made the decision to do so, but it made sense; it would be a bad idea to let her wake up alone, in a place she didn’t know. Bucky settled himself into the armchair across from Y/N’s bed and dozed, until he felt the press of a scalpel at his throat.

His eyes flew open and looked up to meet Y/N’s. She was staring at him, not angry, but confused and scared.

“Where is Tomas?”

Y/N POV

You pressed the scalpel harder against the soldier’s throat, drawing blood when he didn’t answer right away.

“He’s two floors down. Should be asleep. Do you want to go see him?”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” The soldier met your eyes, held your gaze and lifted his hands in an appeasing gesture.

“Do you remember what happened? When we all met?” Your heart raced; all you knew at the moment was that the Winter Soldier was in the room with you, and Tomas wasn’t.

“Natasha and I found you in an alley, your wing was bleeding. You told us about Tomas, then you met Stark and Steve. Stark got hit and his armor started to malfunction. You fixed it, and then collapsed.” As the soldier spoke, your memories pieced together. You hadn’t intended to use your chip anymore that day, knowing that you’d relied on it pretty heavily in order to track Tomas down. But Iron Man had been hit, and you’d reacted. Sighing, you closed your eyes and lowered the scalpel.

“Sorry,” you muttered, “sometimes the seizures cause memory loss.”

“I understand that more than most, I think.”

Yeah, he would wouldn’t he? Looking at him, you saw the cut you’d made on his neck. You reached for a handful of gauze that you’d spotted on the table beside him, and pressed the handful to the cut.

“Sorry,” you said again when he winced.

“‘S all good. I’d have done the same if I were you. It’s Y/N right?” the soldier asked, brushing your hands away gently, and pressing the gauze to his throat himself.

“Yeah. What’s yours?” It was weird not to have a name for someone. In HYDRA it was okay to only have a title to refer to him by; you never really crossed paths with him. But you were both more than what HYDRA had made you.

“My name’s Bucky.”

“Bucky?” you asked. You’d never heard that name before.

“His name’s James Buchanan Barnes, but I called him ‘Bucky’ growing up. For some reason he let me, and it stuck,” Captain America said from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. You tensed, you hadn’t seen or heard him approach. Your eyes darted to him and you took a step in the opposite direction, keeping both him and Bucky in your sight.

“Y/N, this is Steve you met him before you passed out.”

“Right,” you nodded slightly, not moving from your position, but dropping your hands, which had raised into fists at your sides. “Sorry,” you muttered again. You were saying that a lot.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Gotta imagine the seizures take a lot out of ya. How are you feeling now?” Steve asked, not moving except to uncross his arms.

“I’m okay, it’s like this most of the time now.”

“Now?” Bucky asked, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, it used to only happen once in awhile, but the more they made me use the damn chip, the more often I’d have an episode. I tried not to use the thing after I escaped, but sometimes it’s necessary. I thought they were getting worse because I escaped, but I dunno,” you shrugged then wrapped your arms around yourself. Noticing that your wings were out, you focused on them becoming invisible. Though it caused an ache to form behind your eyes, your wings were soon hidden.

“How do you do that?”

“What do you mean ‘worse’?” Bucky spoke over Steve. You looked back and forth between the two.

“I don’t know who to answer first…” Steve nodded in Bucky’s direction, deferring to him.

“Once I left, the seizures got longer, and more violent. They’ve always caused a little bit of memory loss, but that’s gotten worse too. I figured HYDRA had some sort of control over it, and were making it worse on purpose. I get headaches now, and some dizziness from minimal usage, but nothing debilitating.”

Bucky looked like he was going to ask another question, but you turned to Steve before he could.

“As far as my wings, I was born with that mutation. HYDRA gave me the ability to hide them. I’m not really sure how they did it, but I know they got ahold of another mutant’s DNA. That DNA gave me ability to change my appearance, and hide my wings.”

“They experimented on you.” Steve looked a mix of appalled and unbearably sad. You didn’t understand that reaction. Before, when people heard your story, you had seen interest, shock, and revulsion, but never anger and sorrow. You tilted your head and furrowed your brow, but before you could ask anything, a computerized voice spoke.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes? Agent Romanoff requests your presence in the common room,” the feminine voice said.

“Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y. We’ll be right there. Could you let Nat know that Y/N is awake please?”

“Yes, Captain,” there was a pause before the voice came back and said, “Agent Romanoff requests that Y/N accompany you.”

Looking down, you noticed that someone had changed your clothes; you were wearing a pair of sweatpants and a halter top that accommodated your wings. You didn’t have a bra, so you weren’t all that comfortable walking around, but you could cross your arms you guessed; at least you were clean.

“Alright then, let’s go see what she wants,” Bucky said, rising from his chair and walking to the door, letting you fall in step beside him with Steve leading the way.

Bucky’s POV

Bucky sighed as they sat on one of the couches and waited for Nat to arrive. He’d known that HYDRA had messed with Y/N, but to know that they’d not only forced a chip into her head that caused her physical pain when used, but they’d fucked around with her DNA and added a second mutation… Bucky almost couldn’t believe it. He sat, running his hands through his hair and over his face. He was frustrated, angry that more people had been hurt, that he couldn’t do anything about what happened. But now, Bucky understood a little of how Steve felt. The regret, and heartache that Steve felt when he looked at Bucky, Bucky could feel a little of looking at Y/N. Bucky swore to himself then, that he would help Y/N anyway he could. Not because he felt like what happened to her had been his fault, but because he understood where she was... probably more than anyone else.

He felt a twinge in his chest when she saw Tomas coming out of the hallway with Nat. The smile lit up her face, crinkled her eyes at the corners. The kid smiled in return, and made a beeline straight to her.

“Ei, garoto, você está bem?” (Hey kid, are you okay?”) she asked.

“Sim, estou bem.  Steve e Bucky me mostraram os arredores e o computador me contou histórias até eu adormecer.” (Yes, I'm alright. Steve and Bucky showed me around and the computer told me stories till I fell asleep).  Y/N smiled softly as Tomas told her about his night with the Avengers.

“Tomas,” Natasha interrupted gently when the boy took a breath, “Você pode dizer a todos o que você acabou de dizer?” (Can you tell everyone else what you just told me?)

“Sobre os homens maus?” (about the bad men?) At Natasha’s nod, Tomas continued, “Eles disseram que o anjo deles estava voltando pra casa.” (They said their angel was coming home).

Y/N froze, eyes looking to Bucky, heart racing as the other Avengers looked to her.

“W-what?!” she stuttered.

Perma Tags (open): @buckyappreciationsociety, @17marvelousfreak, @melconnor2007, @feelmyroarrrr, @addictionmarvel, @writingwithadinosaur

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[everyhowlmarksthedead]

KEEPING UP WITH THE ARIZAS

Chapter 3: “Happy Father's day”

Word count: 542

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I little bit late, but I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @fromthesixteenthfloor.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @leaalfred @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“Don' offense, but I think that Riz sometimes is so silly, he's not gonna understand your present”. Letti breaks in laughter, referring to the book you bought for him. ‘Being a great dad for Dummies’.

“Yeah, I think it too”. You laugh before stopping the car in the front yard, next to the motorbikes.

“I can't believe you're pregnant, god... It's amazing. Tía Letti, how it sounds?”

“Sounds good, but I hope the first words of my baby don't be ‘my bad’ or Michael is gonna freak out”.

“Shit, I'm gonna put all my efforts into makin' them, and you know it”.

Crossing the front door going inside the clubhouse, the latin music floods your ears, carrying the bag in your forearm. You go straight to your father, sitting on his lap and surrounding his neck with your arms filling his face with a lot of loud kisses.

“Happy Father's day, mi rey, mi amor, luz de mi vida...” You start to make him feel uncomfortable. 'Cause yes, you two are too dearly with each other, but not in front of the crew. He's a man. He has a reputation. But you don't give a fuck. “Te quiero. Te quiero tanto. Shit, dad, look at you! You're so fabulous, and stunning, and breathtaking, an—”.

“Riz, take your fuckin' wife away from me”. He huffs trying to set free himself from you, twisting his neck away.

“It's your daughter, and it's Father's day. Today is only yours”. He answers looking his poker cards between his fingers.

“Well, it's your day too, Rizzy”.

Bishop starts to cough, getting drowned with the beer he was drinking. Silence inside the clubhouse. Riz looks at you confused.

“Don't look at me like that, mister Ariza. You know what happen' when you fuck without condom and cum inside”.

“Yea' you get pregnant, bu—”

“Yes, I get pregnant”.

“Obvi— Wait, are you bein' serious?”

You can hear how fast his heart is beating, and you can also see that your father is starting to cry. Getting out the book of the plastic bag, you throw it on the table in front of Riz's eyes.

“The true nightmare starts now, Michael”. You say getting up of your father's lap. “Good luck in your new task of bringing me all the cravings I'll have in the middle of the night”.

He continues to process it, even if you're narrowing one of his shoulders before leave a kiss on his head.

“Man, are you happe'?” Angel is the first one to cheer it, palming his back when you find Riz starting to cry with the book between his hands.

“I think he's most scared than anything”. Coco says having a puff of his cigar.

“Happy Father's day, papi”.

Riz looks at you with parted lips and the tears running down of his cheeks, getting up of his chair so fast you don't even see it coming. He hugs you, so tightly that you can't breathe.

“Have you pregnant my baby?” Taza asks between the cheerings and the congratulations.

“You're doing an amazing job, grumpy grandpa”. Tranq breaks in laughter, while Riz is giving you a lot of kisses telling you how much he loves you and how happy he is right now.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

An Exorcism? Really?

Characters: Dean x Demon!Reader, Crowley

Word Count: 1,095

Warnings: Spoilers for Season 12 but other than that, nothing else

Request: You’re a demon and always loved being one. You’re one of Crowley’s favorites so he put you in charge of making deals and taking people's souls away. But then you meet Dean Winchester and he wants something in return. Will you make it? 

Author’s Note: If you want to be tagged, leave an ask or message and I’ll add you! Same goes for my Series Rewrite! If you want to request a fic, please send them in! I love writing what you guys want!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

If you could have a do-over for your entire life, you wouldn’t change a thing. You died to save your brother and that was the best thing you could have ever done. You were a demon now and you loved it. Well, you’ve been a demon for a long time now so you barely remember your years as a human but you didn’t want to.

Becoming a demon made you into a better person. Yes, you serve the King of Hell but if you left him alone, he left you alone. He currently made you the one to make the demon deals and you were happy about that. You didn’t get to go to Earth that often so you jumped at the opportunity to do something like this.

“The King would like to see you.” You looked up from your post to see that another demon was talking to you. You nodded and followed behind the lesser demon into the King’s room. You walked with confidence, being one of the more older demons and Crowley knew the type of demon you were.

“Ah, there you are.” Crowley said, smirking. He sat at his throne and you walked up to it, putting your hands on your hips.

“You called?” You asked.

“Yes, well, I have a new assignment for you and you’re the first demon I chose to do this.” Crowley got out pieces of paper and handed them to you. You took them and read over it, rolling your eyes slightly.

“You need a new crossroads demon? What makes you think I am the right one?” You looked at him.

“Come on, Darling, do it for daddy.” He whispered with a smirk.

“One, you’re fucking disgusting. Two, it would be nice to visit Earth ever so often. I’ll agree to it on one condition.”

“What’s that?” He looked at you.

“Don’t refer to yourself as ‘daddy’. It doesn’t work well for you,” You said, turning around and flipping your hair over your shoulder. “I’ll start in the morning.”

That is why you were waiting for some unfortunate soul that wanted to sell their soul away to get something they truly wanted.  You were human once and you remember being desperate enough to sell your soul in order to get said thing.

In one moment, you were in hell, reading a book and waiting, the next moment you were on Earth, in the middle of a crossroad. You wonder who called you and for what this time? You turned around and your mouth dropped open.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise. Dean Winchester of all people. What could you possibly want this time?” You smirked, looking at the tall, green-eyed man. He was glorious and if you were human, you would totally hit that. You didn’t think he was that into demons like his brother was.

“I want Cas back. He didn’t deserve to die.” Dean said with a hard face.

“Oh, you poor soul. Really.” You huffed out. You knew what Cas would come back when the time was right and bringing him back now would just upset things.

“Look, I know you can do it and I’m offering my soul to you.” Dean said, stepping closer to him.

“Dean, sweetie, we don’t want your soul anymore. It was fun to play with the first few times. Now it’s getting to be redundant. You understand.” You said, crossing your arms.

“Listen here, bitch,” He said, walking over to you until you could feel his heat radiate off him. “If you don’t want my soul, then what do you want? Name it and it’s yours.” You stared into his eyes and there was one thing that you wanted ever since you heard of the Winchesters.

You leaned up and grabbed him by his neck, pulling him down so that his lips touched yours. You’ve always wanted to know just how good he was at kissing since you’ve heard stories of him. He put his hands on your hips so that he could push you away but he found himself kissing you back instead.

Damn, this fucker could really make a girl weak in the knees. You were a powerful demon and not much made you crumble. But you could add Dean’s lips onto that short list. You pulled away even though you could do this all day.

“Damn, nothing like how I imagined.” You smirked and took a few steps back so that there could be some distance.

“So, that’s what you wanted? Do we have a deal?” Dean asked and you sighed.

“No, Dean, no deal. I’ve heard stories about you and wanted to see if you could match them. You did a lot better.” You winked at him.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…” Dean started to recite.

“An exorcism? Really? Dean, sweetie, there’s really no point in doing that. I’m a crossroads demon and Crowley loves me very much so I won’t stay in hell for long.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“This is what you get if you don’t want to make a deal.” Dean said, glaring at you.

“That’s because Castiel is going to come back on his own. The child will make sure of it. If I bring him back too early, then things will get nasty.” You said, looking at him like he should have known this.

“Really? What does the child want with Cas?”

“How the hell should I know? All I know is that this child thinks of Castiel as his guardian or something so he will bring him back.”

“Why tell me this? Most demons would keep this to themselves and gain a new soul. Even if it was mine.” Dean asked, confused.

“Dean, I’m a demon, I’m not stupid. You’re more useful up here than down there. Plus, if I took your soul, then I would have to deal with another Winchester and frankly, that’s too much paperwork.”

“Right, well, thanks, I guess. For a demon, you’re not that bad.” Dean said. That was a compliment coming from him.

“Yeah, just you wait. Oh, and my name is Y/N if you ever need me. Crowley kind of monitors what goes on here and if you ever need to speak to me in private, need my help, or just need someone for the night, give me a call. I can guarantee you right now that sex with a demon is much better than sex with a human.” You winked at him and before he knew it, you were gone and back to your post.

Until next time.

Masterlist // Buy me a Coffee? // Series Rewrite Masterlist

Forever tags:

@maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26

Dean tags:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie

Other tags:

@jensen-jarpad @notnaturalanahi @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm

[rockinthebeastmode]

Smile Like You Mean It

A/N: Hey so...in honor of Valentine’s Day, I’ve got something light and happy. My original idea was sad but I figured I needed to try to break out of the depressing stuff, get back on track. Chapter 3 of Our Masterplan is still in the works, I’m honestly just having trouble writing a bunch of filler shit and haven’t been in the right frame of mind for happy stories. SO. Based loosely on Smile Like You Mean It by The Killers (see if you find all the references I painstakingly included lmao), it’s a future fic in Finn’s POV. Hope you enjoy and Happy Valentine’s Day!

You can find my other fics here.

@mmfdfanfic @eveerez @i-dream-of-emus @lilaviolet @lau-vm @hey1tskat1e @tinakegg

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the tag list and if I missed anyone :)

Smile Like You Mean It

All things considered, I was a pretty laid back bloke. I reckoned I could handle just about anything. For instance, when the local radio station where my wife Rae and I worked got bought out and turned mainstream, we wasted no time in opening our own station and good ol’ No Crap FM was born. Perfect as it turned out, Rae being several months pregnant at the time didn’t help matters. But we made it through together; the station took off and my sweet Aria was born.

Fast-forward sixteen years and my smiley, beautiful baby has transformed into a witty, charming young woman. She reminded me of Rae more and more each day, what with her biting sarcasm and cheeky grin. She could compete nationally in eye-rolling but those same eyes, that matched mine almost perfectly, could sparkle and shine with every mood. Unlike Rae and I both, Aria wore her emotions on her sleeve, something I was in constant turmoil over. What the bloody hell was I supposed to do when some knobhead broke her heart and her anguish showed plain as day on her face? I couldn’t stand even the thought.

***

“Well, what’s the boy’s name? We didn’t go to school with his parents, did we? Oh god, he’s Stacey’s son, isn’t he. Don’t sugar coat it, Rae, tell me straight out.”

Rae just gave me a amused glance, continuing cooking dinner. How could she be so calm at a time like this?

“His name is Jonathan and from what Aria’s told me, he’s just moved here with his mum and is in her year,” she replied, stirring a pot slowly. She turned the heat on low and covered it, turning to me and smirking.

“She’s also informed me that he’s got auburn hair and dark blue eyes and a million freckles and could play footy in his sleep,” Rae continued, fluttering her lashes and sighing dreamily. I rolled my eyes, my stomach twisting.

“Sounds like a wanker,” I countered, my brows furrowing. She smiled and stepped closer, running her fingers across my forehead and smoothing the lines.

“Be careful your face doesn’t get stuck like that, you know you’ve only got one,” she said cheekily. Before I could respond, the doorbell rang.

“Now, go get the door and call for Aria. Dinner will be ready in a bit.” 

I nodded with a grimace, heading for the front door. Aria appeared at the top of the stairs. My jaw dropped. This girl was gonna be the death of me.

“How do I look, Daddy?” she chirped, eyes shimmering. I could hear a slight waver in her voice and I sighed with a smile.

“You look beautiful, babygirl.”

She grinned before bounding down the stairs, her knee length skirt waving. She wore a light sleeveless top, a necklace resting along her sternum. My chest constricted.

“You’re wearing a sweater, right? A parka, perhaps?” She just laughed to my dismay.

“Quick, answer the door! And don’t let him see me, I have to make an entrance,” she exalted shortly, practically buzzing with anticipation. She bounced into the kitchen, and I vaguely heard Rae praising her loudly. I went to the door and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Mr. Nelson! So great to meet you, I’m Jonny,” he beamed, holding out his hand to shake. I crossed my arms, looking him over. His red hair was styled messily, wearing a navy blue button up t-shirt and light jeans. His hand stayed in place for a few seconds before wavering under my scrutiny and running through his hair with a shaky laugh. I attempted a smile, stepping back out of the doorway.

“C’mon in, kid,” I murmured. I clapped a hand on his shoulder roughly as he entered, smirking as he winced, giving me a weak grin. 

“Aria! Your date’s here!” I called out, screaming internally. Date.

“Be right there!”

We stood in silence for a moment, Jonny looking around the room casually while I tried not to shove him back out the door. I watched the kid as he wiped his palms on his jeans and cleared his throat. The kitchen door swung open and Rae walked out, giving me a warning look before smiling widely at Jonny.

“You must be Jonathan, Aria’s told us so much about you.”

I barely contained my scoff.

“All good things I hope,” Jonny quipped with a nervous smile. Rae chuckled and shook his hand.

“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Nelson,” he continued, glancing around the room again. Rae beamed and I rolled my eyes heavenward. What a bloody charmer.

“Oh, call me Rae, Mrs. Nelson is so stuffy,” she laughed before giving me a meaningful look. I shot her a side-glance.

“Mr. Nelson will do, boy,” I muttered, Rae smacking my arm with an eyeroll. Aria entered the room seconds later, her grin a little too wide to be genuine. I could see her nerves clear in her movements. The kid swallowed hard, exhaling sharply.

“You look stunning,” Jonny croaked, Aria blushing deeply. He raised his arms as if to hug her and I caught his eye, glaring daggers. He slumped slightly, Aria looking disappointed.

“Ready to go?”

Aria nodded and gave Rae a quick hug before turning to me. I hoped my distress didn’t show too clear.

“Alright, Daddy?” she whispered, hugging me tight. I clung to her, knowing when I let go, she’d go out with that little blighter and I’d lose my little girl forever. I gave her one final squeeze and she pulled away, kissing my cheek. My lips quirked, my heart dropping to my stomach.

“Smile like you mean it, Dad,” Aria winked, exchanging a smirk with Rae. Her and Jonny walked to the door. As Aria opened the front door, Jonny placed his hand on her lower back. Rae’s quick pinch stopped me from lunging forward. I called out desperately.

“Curfew’s at te--” I started, before Rae clapped a hand over my mouth.

“Midnight, have fun, kids!” she finished, waiting until the door closed before removing her hand. I heaved a sigh, dropping to the couch and placing my head in my hands. Rae rubbed my shoulders and kissed my head.

“It’s just a date, Finley. She’s the same age we were when we started,” she said before walking towards the kitchen. I groaned, my nerves growing ten-fold.

“Exactly. I was such a dickhead back then,” I whined, shaking my head. 

“Back then?” she snorted. I scowled and followed her to the kitchen.

“Face it, Finn. She’s growing up. She can’t be your little girl forever,” she said, her tone ending the discussion. She started doling out food onto our plates.

“I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

***

Things have changed since Rae and I were teenagers. We’d spend the summer days trolling Town Records and the chippy and spend the nights watching the sunset out at Rutlands and drinking pints at the Swan. Looking back, life seemed like a dream. 

I remember all those times I’d sneak Rae into my room, Dad being totally oblivious. Or those few times I’d make it into Rae’s room before getting caught by Linda in a flurry of swatting hands and shouted profanities. We’d both get grounded but there I’d be again, climbing the walls up to her window.

I was installing bloody bars on our windows next chance I got.

***

“Mr. Nelson!”

I growled, the chippy’s server giving me a curious glance. I raised my brows at her mockingly and grabbed my food order, turning to the door. If I could just make it back to the car--

“Hey, Mr. Nelson. Fancy seeing you here,” Jonny grinned. I made a small noise of derision. His gaze went down to the large paper bag in my arms.

“Dinner for the family?” he remarked, “I’m just here with my footy mates, big game earlier.”

I nodded, my mouth curling into a sneer. Yes, Aria had spent the entire bloody day enthusing about Jonny and his football prowess before heading off to the game, team colors painted across her cheeks. I opened my mouth to fashion some sort of goodbye when Jonny’s gaze fell to my tattered Oasis t-shirt.

“Aw, man, I love Oasis. One of the best bands ever.”

No fucking way he had any idea about Oasis. This kid was a real piece of work.

“Oh yeah? Favorite album?” I challenged. Jonny seemed to think for a minute.

“Well…”

Yeah, ‘well’ what Jonny-boy?!

“I’d say ‘Definitely Maybe’ since it’s such a classic and my mum raised me on it, but I’m pretty impartial to ‘Be Here Now’. Can’t beat the opening guitar on Don’t Go Away,” he finished.

I almost dropped the bag in shock. Jonny continued, not seeming to notice my dumbfounded stare.

“Aria’s always banging on about the genius of ‘What’s the Story’, can’t say I disagree with that,” he paused before giving me a sly smile, “I’d never cop to it though.”

I let out a short laugh before kicking myself internally. Save some face, Finn, he’s the enemy!

“Anyways, I’d better go, Mr. Nelson. See ya laters!” 

I waved dazedly, turning back to the door and heading home. Fucking unreal.

***

Though my efforts to scare him away were valiant, Jonny stuck around a bit longer than I had anticipated. Blinded by my distrust of him and anxiety over Aria growing up, it took me a long time to accept him into our family circle. But with the help (or rather, coercion) of Rae, I stepped aside a bit and retracted the claws around Jonny more. Before I knew it, the two had been together a full year and then some.

***

“How’s the station going?” Dad asked, pouring tea into cups, handing them to me and Rae. I shrugged, my eyes on Aria and Jonny in the living room looking through Dad’s collection of board games, the christmas tree lighting their faces. Rae elbowed me sharply.

“It’s great, Gary, smooth as always. We’ve had some new artists playing for the holidays so ratings have been up,” she answered, pulling my focus from the kids. Dad shot me a knowing look.

“And how’s Aria? Excited about starting uni?”

Rae nodded enthusiastically, sharing a proud look with me.

“She’s not sure if she wants to go to Bristol like I did or somewhere new, though. She considered taking a year off to travel or start out at the trade school Finn went to, get some experience in something. I know she wants to stay close to Jonny either way, but he’s heading for great things as well, sky’s the limit for them both,” she replied. 

I found myself not instantly fuming at the thought of Jonny staying in Aria’s life. Turned out, he’d been a good influence for her thus far. While my grades dropped when I spent too much time with Rae, Aria and Jonny thrived, both their grades improving as they helped each other in their weak spots. Despite my original thoughts of Jonny being a typical boy with no eye for the future or how to treat my little girl, he was turning out to be quite the young man--a fact Rae wouldn’t let me forget.

“They do seem quite close,” Dad answered, “Reminds me a bit of you two to be honest.”

I choked on my tea. Aria held up a game from across the room.

“Who wants to play?”

***

Before I knew it, Aria started university. She struggled at first, being away from home, but with ongoing support from Rae and I, she made it through. Jonny ended up going to a different school but they remained in touch and honestly, I think his influence helped Aria just as much as mine and Rae’s did. By the time they graduated, my distaste for the boy had lessened considerably.

***

“May I have a quick word, Mr. Nelson?”

My eyes left the grill and met Jonny’s. He shuffled his feet and ran a hand through his hair restlessly. I nodded, handing the spatula to Chop, shrugging in response to his curious look. We walked to the side of the yard where a drink table was set up and I cracked open a beer, handing it to Jonny before opening one for myself. He took a long pull and let out a gusty sigh after. I raised a brow at him.

“What’s got you so keyed up, kid?” I asked, taking a considerably smaller gulp of my own beer. His eyes went across the yard to Aria standing with Rae and Archie, laughing loudly.

“It’s about Aria, sir.”

My eyes narrowed.

“You did something to her?” I asked quietly, stepping closer menacingly. Jonny shook his head roughly, bringing up his hands defensively.

“Oh, no, no, ‘course not, Mr. Nelson, I just…” he trailed off and I clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, out with it, Jonathan, I haven’t seen you this nervous since your first date with her,” I joked. I felt my stomach flop in anticipation. It couldn’t be...

“I know you don’t like me, sir, and that’s cool--”

“I like you just fine, lad.” Now, at least. Only took about 5 years.

“Right...well,” he took a shuddering breath, “I love your daughter very much, and I can’t imagine having a life without her by my side. So, I was wondering, if I could possibly have your blessing to propose marriage to her.”

My world seemed to slow down. I suddenly was assaulted with memories of my own experience asking Karim for his blessing to marry Rae. How out of my mind nervous I was. How difficult it was to bridge the language gap. Jonny sure had this bloody easy.

I stared at Jonny blankly, trying to get my head on straight. I watched a bead of sweat trickle down Jonny’s face, his eyes beseeching. I let a smile play on my face, remembering how much I hated this random boy coming swooping into my only daughter’s life and watching him become a man before my eyes, making Aria infinitely happy along the way. Jonny wavered under my gaze, his face starting to drop. I made my decision.

“Yes.”

His eyes widened.

“Sorry?”

I rolled my eyes, barking a laugh.

“I said yes, knobhead.”

Jonny’s face broke into a grin and he threw his arms around me, nearly knocking me on my arse. I caught eyes with Rae across the yard and she gaped comically at the sight of us hugging, quickly nudging Aria beside her. She smiled widely and her eyes glowed brightly even from this distance. Jonny broke away, still beaming unrestrained.

“Thanks so much, Mr. Nelson.”

I cuffed his shoulder with a smirk.

“It’s Finn.”

***

Of course she said yes. Did I have any doubt she wouldn’t? A year of planning later found us at the town chapel on the big day. I didn’t know who was more nervous--me or Jonny.

***

“Fuck, I’m gonna be sick.”

I stifled a grin and tried to look sympathetic.

“You’re fine. We practiced this whole thing yesterday. You love her. Piece of cake,” I reassured him. His eyes met mine frantically.

“What if she changes her mind?” he spluttered, pacing the hall. I couldn’t help my snort.

“Well, she’s paying me back with interest, for one. This show didn’t come cheap, I’ll tell you that,” I replied, grinning at the glare and terse, ‘Not helping, Finn,’ I received. I checked my watch and braced his shoulders.

“Lemme tell you something, Jonathan. I consider myself a pretty laid back bloke, even if I didn’t seem that way when we first met. I reckon at this point in life I can handle just about anything, though you coming along made me question that. But now, I’ve realized you’re the best thing that could’ve happened in my daughter’s life and I’m sure you feel the same about her. I know you love her and you’ll make her happy,” I imparted. He smiled, his eyes growing glazed.

“Now, you got a wedding to have, get on out there,” I pulled him into a quick hug, feeling tears well up in my own eyes. Jonny bobbed his head in a nod, and sauntered off into the main hall to stand at the altar. I swiped at my eyes and made my way down the hall to the bride’s room. I knocked on the door, breathing deep. Rae opened the door, smile seeming permanently fixed. I smiled back.

“Looking good, girl,” I murmured before looking past her into the room at Aria. My heart skipped a beat.

“How do I look, Daddy?”

Déjà vu washed over me and I sighed in a small sob.

“You look beautiful, babygirl.”

Aria beamed, smoothing her hands over her dress. Rae kissed her cheek and hugged her tight, before leaving the room. I offered my arm, a tear making its way down my cheek. She swiped it away and took a trembling breath.

“I’m bricking it, Dad. How’s he doing? Is he gonna back out?”

I shook my head with a chuckle.

“He’s nervous but excited. Happy. Same as you.”

She nodded and we made our way to the doors. We stood in position and I turned to her. She gave me one of her famous looks that showed each and every emotion she was feeling. Intense nerves but supreme happiness. I kissed her cheek and waggled my brows at her.

“Now, smile like you mean it, Aria.”

[n00dl3gal]

Picasso and Street Lamps, Part 3: Red Lion Has Tagged You In a Post

Happy Valentine’s Day.

THIS little segment here was what changed “Banksy-Ass Wannabe” from being a oneshot to a full series (hence all the exposition at the start). And I wouldn’t have done it without the help of Becky (@screwitanddoitanyway), who gave me the idea. Thank you… and also screw you, this AU has taken over my life.

Special thanks to @cubanbisexuallance for her help with names and the Spanish dialogue! Translations will be at the end of the post.

Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9524369/chapters/21897683

It was hard to believe he’d been dating Lance for six years now, but here Keith was.

They’d both graduated- it took some persuasion on Lance’s part, but Keith had finally returned to college and gotten his degree- and they were pretty content. Lance was suffering his way through grad school, Keith had traded in coffee for teaching art at a local studio, they shared an apartment with a busted radiator, and everything was fine.

That’s not to say they didn’t argue, but most of their frustrations towards the other was vented through their graffiti. Yes, they still sprayed- maybe less than when they were in college, but it was a form of relaxation for the both of them, and damn if teasing all their followers with their relationship wasn’t funny. If anything, they played up the rivalry between BluDude and Red Lion more than ever, just to screw with the fans. It made their reactions to the collabs they did all the sweeter.

Keith’s packing up from a shift at the studio- he’s been teaching anatomy for the past month, which is all kinds of awkward. Thank God he wasn’t one of the models, but seeing the naked men pose reminds him of his pathetic bottom surgery fund sitting in his bank account. He’s ready to head back home, curl up with Lance, and relax when his phone buzzes.

It’s Pidge. Not too surprising- turns out she and Keith had a lot in common, and that was before they realized their brothers had once been roommates. What does catch Keith’s attention is the text she sent:  Check Lance’s instagram.

Keith opens up the app, checking Lance’s personal account first. There isn’t anything new; the last post was a selfie he took a few days ago. Keith remembers groaning in the background.

He flips over to the BluDude account and-  oh.

It’s a familiar sight- the back of the 7-11 on Carson Street, where they were supposed to have a showdown and instead ended up making out. And Lance has decided to commemorate the location with a spray, over half a decade later.

It’s incredibly simple by Lance’s standards, just four words in bright blue lettering. But good Lord, do they carry a lot of meaning.

  Will you marry me?

Once he recovers, Keith dashes to the supply closet.

…

Lance paces across the apartment, constantly glancing between the clock, the door, and his phone. Maybe he was too forward. Maybe he’s scared Keith off, he’s not coming back, he’s fucked up this time-

His phone dings and Lance jumps a foot in the air.

The notification is simple:  Red Lion has tagged you in a post. His fingers shake as he opens Instagram.

It’s a photo of his proposal, with one word in red at the bottom:  YES .

As if on cue, the door rattles and Keith opens it, staring at Lance, expression unreadable. They watch each other, barely breathing, until Keith opens his mouth.

“Do you even have a ring?”

Lance puts his hand to his chest, face aghast. “I’ve been planning this for months babe,” he says, fumbling around in his back pocket. “Or, well, I’ve had the ring for months. Wasn’t sure what to do but… this seems right.” He kneels and Keith is already nodding. “Lemme say it out loud first,” he whispers. Keith drops to his knees, hands shaking and smile wide and trembling. “Keith Kwon, apple of my eye, the Aristotle to my Dante, love of my life- will you marry me?”

Keith grabs the hood of his jacket and kisses him, desperate and eager and wet. “Yes, yes, God, of course I will you dickwad, I fucking love you so fucking much-”

“I love you too,” Lance whispers against his fiance’s lips.

Eventually, Lance breaks off the kiss, Keith still chasing his touch. “In a minute, babe,” he laughs, patting his cheek. “I need to call my mom.”

Keith nods, still high off giddiness, and lays with Lance on the couch. As the phone rings, the Cuban man slides the ring on his fiance’s finger. It’s simple- tarnished brass, with a small stone that Keith assumes is a ruby. He’ll probably ask Shay for proper identification, though.

“Mami? It’s Lance- yeah, I did! And he said yes! I- what? She wants to be on speaker,” Lance says, pushing the button. “Wants to congratulate us both.”

“Keith? You there, mijito?” comes the voice down the line.

If Keith wasn’t already grinning, he’d be beaming now. “Yeah, I’m here, Mrs. Fuentes.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Hermosa- especially now, you’re family.”

Family- he hasn’t even thought about that. Marrying Lance and he’d join the Fuentes. People who already adored him, a group that welcomed him with open arms when Lance first brought him home. Something that he’d only really experienced with the Shiroganes for two decades.

And now he and Lance could start their own.

“Babe- Mami, you made him cry, how could you?” Lance says, pulling Keith closer and kissing the tears on his cheek.

“I’m gonna make him cry even more if he hurts you, Lancito,” Hermosa answers, voice tinny and threatening, but with a loving tone.

“Don’t worry, Mrs.- Hermosa,” Keith tells her, squeezing Lance across the waist. “I’m so in love with your son I’d probably die if I hurt him.”

“When did you get so mushy?” Lance asks, looking at him with glistening ocean eyes.

Keith pecks his nose. “When you proposed.”

“Boys, I’m still on. At least hang up before you-”

“¡Mami! ¡No vamos a singar!”

Hermosa laughs, bright and cheerful. “Oh yeah, sure, y soy la reina de la inglaterra. Asegúrese de usar un condón,” she adds, causing a flustered Lance to scream “¡Mami!” again.

“But in all seriousness,” she says after calming down, “I’m so very proud. Of both of you. You’re perfect for each other and I know you’ll have a happy life. Te amo.” The pair responds in kind and Lance hangs up.

“A happy life,” Lance muses. His fingers rub absentmindedly across the ring. Keith shivers at the familiar touch of flesh and the new sensation of metal. “What do you think, babe? Want to share the rest of your living, breathing days with me in complete and utter joy?” “You’ve already given me that,” Keith whispers, nuzzling his face in Lance’s neck, tears still pricking his eyes. “Thank you, Lance. Thank you so much.”

Translations: “Mijito” = a term of affection “¡Mami! ¡No vamos a singar!” = “Mom! We aren’t having sex!” “Y soy la reina de la inglaterra. Asegúrese de usar un condón.” = “And I’m the Queen of England. Be sure to wear a condom.” “Te amo” = “I love you”

When Lance mentions “Aristotle and Dante,” he’s referring to the main characters of the book “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.” It’s really good, I highly recommend it.

No new section next week; I’ll be working on stuff for Mercy76 Week instead. When I return, however, more klance. Also, sorry for not posting segment 2 on tumblr, things got a bit hectic and I forgot. I’ll try to upload it soon.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

“SHOULD I TRY?”

GILLY LOPEZ X READER

SERIE INDEX. Chapter 4.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @STARRYNITE7114 💘

AUTHOR COMMENTS: I hope you all enjoy. English isn’t my first language, I’m sorry if I have some mistakes with grammar. The gif isn’t mine.

Tag list: @STARRYNITE7114 @CHIBSYTELFORD @MARA-MPOU @DAZZLEDAMAZON @SAMMSKELLINGTON @ARVEDUA 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

It's been a long time since you last seen your brother. Maybe six or seven months has pass. You call him every month to talk about how you are, and he knows about Gilly since you met him. He was good with the idea of finding someone who treats you as you deserve, even if he's part of a MC. So, when you called him to arrange the meeting between them and the Mayans, he was ready to approve your full transfer to Santo Padre, if the ‘new’ charter approves it too. You're waiting for them at the entrance of the city, supporting your back against the welcome sign. You're nervous. You know that Marcos will always loves you, and the Coyotes are happy for you, after what you have had to live with your ex. The roars of the motorcycle engines push you out of your thoughts. You can see the six men coming, with a small black van behind them. You know they're bringing you your motorbike. You'll need it probably. And you missed it since you left Tijuana. As soon as they stop, your brother runs towards you, holding your body between his strong arms. He's taller than you and that fact makes it difficult for you to kiss him on the cheek at times. “¿Te tratan bien?” (They treat you well?). He asks with his hands on your cheeks. “Sí”. (Yes). You nod lively. “¿Estáis bien con esto, de verdad?” (Are you truly ok with that?) “Nadie merece la felicidad más que tú, mija”. (Nobody deserves happiness more than you, mija). The oldest member of Los Coyotes, Alejandro, walks towards you to leave a kiss on your forehead. “Hemos preguntado a nuestros contactos, es un club leal. Estamos de acuerdo en transferirte, aunque siempre serás parte de nuestra familia”. (We asked to our contacts, it's a loyal club. We're ok with the transfer, although you'll always be part of our family). “Tú nos diriges”. (You direct us). Marcos says, before hearing the roar of your motorbike. Your old red Harley. You're fucking excited. The ride to Santo Padre, with your hands on the handlebar of your bike, is really awesome, even if you feel like you're going to the slaughterhouse. Gilly has not answered your calls since that night three days ago. Bishop told you to give him some time to think, but that he also knew everything would be fine. You take a deep breath before crossing the front door of the ‘Romeros Bros, Scrap and Salvage’. When you finally arrive to the clubhouse' yard, your heart skips a beat. The whole crew is there, including Stockton and Yuma. You heard about them, but you didn't expect they were coming too, even if it has no sense 'cause they're Mayans too. You stop your motorbike, as your charter does. Bishop walks next to you, with a soft and confident smile on his lips. “Awesome baby”. He says, referring to your bike, you nod smiling, before being hugged by him. “You ready?” “Is it Gilly?” You look for him, between the men away, till you find him. He's there. And you're not sure if it's something good or bad. “I'm Marcos, the president of Los Coyotes de Tijuana”. Your brother offers him a hand. Bishop narrows it. “Thank you for taking care of my sister, even if you didn't know who she was”. “She’s a good girl. With two big balls”. “You don't have to insure it”. Your brother laughs, the president of the Mayans laughs too. “Well, I hope this is the start for something big”. “Family and businesses, sounds good to me too”. You're surprised. There's no hostility between the mexicans, seeming to know each other for a lifetime. It's a good omen after three days of a painful pressure in your chest, that didn't let you sleep.

After all men are sitting at the table, and the prospect of your charter has served beers for all, the meeting starts. Your behind your brother, standing up with your hands on his shoulders. “Club decision”. Bishop says loud. “Do we approve the transfer of (Y/N) to Santo Padre, even if she will not be an active member at first?” “If she's, in da' future, the statutes will have to be changed”. Oscar, the Stockton president, adds. The Mayans and Los Coyotes raise up their right hand. Gilly is doubting. You beg to him in silence. He sighs raising his hand too. “Done”. Bishop hits the table with the gavel, with the right he earned being ‘El rey de los Mayas’. “We will take care of her as one of us. You don't have to worry about”. “I know”. Marcus is sure about that, nodding in agreement. “You can count with Tijuana and Mexico DF for whatever you need. We control that part of the border and the MCs around”. “SAMCRO knows what we’re doing, they're good too. And they, as us, will help you with whatever you need to do in Cali'”. Canche, Yuma’s president, talks supporting his arms on the edge of the table. “Yo! Man! This looks like an arranged marriage!” Angel speaks provoking laughter from everyone. His funny comments always on point, even if you don't laugh. “The party starts now, we hope you're hungry”. Taza says getting up of his chair. Laughs floods the room again. As you thought, they leave you alone with Gilly, the only one who is sitting yet. He has his eyes on the cigar consuming in the ashtray. You walk slowly next to him, having a seat by his side. You don't know what to say. Your heart is beating fast and you're more nervous than ever before. The last three months you've been together almost everyday. You missed him. “I'm sorry… I didn't tell you before. I was scared”. You swallow hard, licking your inner lip. “Gilly, please… Say something”. “I don't know what I should think”. “It's ok if you don't trust me. I'll make you do it again. I'm here. I have brought them, I asked for a transfer, risking me to receive a negative answer from the charter. Risking losing what I know as a family. And I did it for you”. You're trying. You're trying hard, 'cause he's the only man who treats you with love and kindness, without asking for anything bacl. “I missed you these days…” He sighs putting down his head, till his chin meet his chest. “I did it too…” Gilly says in a whisper, before lifting up his head at you. “I promise I'll do everything to make you trust me again”. You raise a trembling hand, holding one of his. “What happened with your ex, uh?” “Gilly, I d…” “No more secrets”. He begs you, entangling his fingers with yours. “I met him when I was sixteen. Bad guy, motorbike, tattoos. Older than me five years”. You start putting your eyes on both hands, looking for the strength you need to continue. “At first, everything was perfect. You know… dates, presents, travels. But then, I don' know how it happened. It started with a punch and an ‘I'm sorry, baby, it will never happen again’. But it happened again”. He's listening in silence, seeing on your face the pain that provokes when you talk about it. But you're doing this effort to prove him that you don't want to have more secrets. “My brother found… me drowning in my own blood”. You have to take a deep breath, holding in the tears that wanna run all over your face. “They brought me here. The last prospect knew the principal of the preschool I work in”. “Did they found him?” He asks referring to your ex-boyfriend. You shake your head with a snort in your throat. “Do you… think I could do the same that he did to you?” You didn't expect that question. And you have to answer with the truth. “It's a… thought that never leaves you, once you live it”. You say pursuing your lips before licking them nervously. “But I trust you, Gilly. You're not like him. And I'm not the stupid girl I used to be”. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure about that, before seeing you kicking that bitch's ass”. He tries to smile softly just for a second. “Gilly…” “Maybe we could start from scratch”. He proposes. Your eyes find his, with some confusion and surprise. “Are you gonna buy me another iPhone? 'Can it be red? 'Cause I look hotter than hell with a leather vest and all its patches”. Gilly laughs loud, and you feel like happiness is coming back to your life. He shakes his head and you can't avoid to laugh too. It was a good point. He releases your hand, offering his again. “I'm Gilly. I was looking at you the whole meeting”. “I'm (Y/N)”. You say narrowing it with a soft smile. “Yeah, I have felt a little observed”. “I'm not good with words, but, did you smell me? People say I smell good”. “Uh, let me see”. You lean towards him taking a deep breath from his neck. You let your nose rest there for a while, before he wraps your waist with his strong arms forcing you to sit on his lap. “No more secrets, ok?” He whispers in your ear, leaving a kiss on your head. “No more secrets”. You nod, looking for his eyes. He presses his lips against yours, softly, eyes closed focused in how much you missed each other. Your hands traveling to his nape, leaving some caresses there, while your mouths make up for the lost time. And it feels better than ever. The pressure in your chest disappear when the kiss finishes some seconds after. He licks his lips, forehead against forehead, keeping his eyes closed. Yours are open, seeing the minimal gesture on his face. “I'll protect you at all cost”. “I know. And I'll fight all those bitches who dare to talk you badly”. He laughs, finding your orbs like they were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.