#GOD ive been meaning to draw them all together kissing

[mrmosseater]

i love poly old men yaoi

[dustykneed]

for context: star trek into darkness (specifically, my take on the implications of bones doing what he had to do and the emotional fallout of those missing scenes) (not that ive seen it!! but ive read enough fic to know the gist of it LMAO) (can you believe this started as an impulse draw to see if i could use pastels to convey heavy emotions and now im writing a very very long headcanon in my notes app.)

...

Leonard goes and he plays god, and injects Jim with that godforsaken blood, and then there is nothing left to do but wait.

He sinks into the chair at his desk, and steeples his fingers together. It occurs to him that these circumstances are the sort that would drive any religious man to bow his head and clasp his hands together, like so, and pray.

--but he is a doctor, and he has never been religious, and he has a duty to do, and he has broken his oath, and there is blood on his hands and flecking his shirt.

Leonard sits very still at his desk and weeps, and he does not pray.

...

sorry to all of y'all who had to find out i was an angst goblin this way <///3 but basically the hc/rough fic is an extension of the angst potential of that one scene where jim wakes up and fixates on spock (and his lack of response towards bones is never addressed afterwards i think? not sure but it's an interesting premise imo)

brief summary: bones never gets closure from jim after he wakes up because jim and spock get together immediately after and it just slips their minds, so bones is stuck in "oh god jim's dying" mode and feels absolutely terrible, but the bridge crew helps a bit by being there for him to hang out with, but still bones does overwork while trying to work through the sense of wrongness of not being able to have his emotional needs met after the whole jim dying fiasco and feeling like his best friend has forgotten him. he admittedly makes good progress (by which i mean he's able to take really big overwhelming feelings and put them away well enough in his daily life to function relatively normally) but the crushing grief is always in the background. about a month or so after spirk gets together, spock accidentally brushes bones' arm and is absolutely slammed by a wave of unexpected exhaustion and emotional pain and is like ??????!!!????????? long story short he drags bones to jim and bones cries for the first time since jim "died" and it is immensely cathartic and then jim blurts out a confession because he has horrible timing and asks bones to join him and spock and obviously bones cries harder and spock is about to smack jim upside the head lmao (bones says its way too much to process and he needs time but hes not exactly opposed, and they all start spending more time together, and then eventually bones is like fuck it and asks for a kiss and they finally get together !!!!!!)

as a treat for reading all of my mildly insane word vomit y'all get a soft bittersweet aos mcspirk scribble<33

gotta love aos jim's majestic eyebrows and aos spock's general sort of >:[ expression!! really growin on me tbh

[bcolfanfic]

Hi! Just wondering if you have any headcanons for Josie and Rosie’s daughter? I think that’s such a fun ship and would love to hear any of your thoughts about them.

babies <3 josie is the longer hair- if any of y’all need a refresher in young vets au josie is the bucks, naomi is rosie’s kiddo that he adopted as a single dad. (though she’s also later adopted by his partner aiden that he gets w later down the line) s/o to @swifty-fox who this was developed with. we have created. so much young vets au next gen lore.

sweet girls

well. kinda. josie is a bit of a terror there for a minute.

she is bucky’s after all (: i think ive said before that while obv they both love both their kids, josie Is bucky and micah Is gale.

has had a lot of girlfriends and situationships and what have you

naomi. has- not.

knows she’s gay, is very gender non conforming just. rizzless like her father (sorry rosie)

is buddies with josie and has kinda had a littleee crush on her since they were kids but. always got the sense that josie thought she was too Cool for her.

why would she want some dweeby gnc girl a couple years younger than her when clearly she can get any pretty girl she wants <\3 ugh naomi baby.

they become a closer when naomi goes away for college bc she. struggles to make friends for a minute and josie texts her to check in and they just start talking more from there.

naomi does meet /someone/ at college and. this girl is not very nice but ahhh we cannot stop her your first gay relationship being toxic as shit is a baby gay canon event.

brings her to the big memorial day weekend reunion get together with everyone in wyoming and josie immediately does not like this girl lmfao.

surely that means nothing (:

everything kinda blows up bc josie goes into the house for something, and naomi’s little girlfriend follows her and tries to hit on her. which naomi walks in on.

and ugh god love naomi she thinks josie was the one that ‘started it’ and they just start going at it. naomi following her back out of the house yelling at her that she can have whoever she wants why can’t she let her have one thing. josie yelling at her that she didn’t do anything- her little girlfriend is a slimy little weasel, nothing good comes from latching onto the first person to pay attention to you.

draws the attention of. everyone in the yard lmfao. bucky and rosie and aiden have to run over and break it up before someone gets smacked.

josie all pouty and frustrated off with bucky and aiden rambling about how she didn’t do anything, naomi is such a good girl, she hates that her little girlfriend is so awful bc naomi doesn’t deserve that.

naomi off w rosie and curt crying because she feels like she’s just never going to be happy <\3 even her own *girlfriend* wants josie instead of her, and she gets it bc josie is perfect but. feels so stupid and broken.

eventually when everyone’s heads are cooler josie all awkward asks naomi if she wants to go on a drive to get away from everyone for a bit. get fast food or something.

and naomi is like 😐🙁 i guess

josie gets like five minutes down the road before pulling over under a tree and naomi is like ??? is something wrong with your car i thought we were getting food ???

and josie just. looks at her for a long few seconds before unbuckling and reaching across the console and kissing that girl good.

naomi kisses her back but then yanks away like she’s been burned bc. shock.

kinda immediately throws up walls nudging her off telling her she doesn’t want her pity over her own girlfriend not wanting her.

don’t do that to me jos, please

sweet josie. a terror but a good girl at heart like bucky. just sighs and tells her she’s wanted to do that since before she brought that little jerk around.

naomi still pushes back just 🫤 i don’t buy that. picking at her nails looking at her lap. tells her she can have anyone she wants she sure as shit doesn’t want /her/. all your girlfriends are gorgeous i know what your type is.

(naomi has. a lot of insecurity around the gender non confirming stuff bless her sweet heart. rosie and aiden are such good dads about it. her best friends <3.)

but josie does want her. she really does <3

tells her that. kisses her again. they end up in the backseat of josie’s falling apart car for an hour and make all the guys giggle like little girls when they rock back up to the bucks house like flushed little baby deer.

micah pushed naomi’s little POS girlfriend into the lake

[khalixvitae]

the mosaics would be soooo perfect. ive always been haunted with images of an extremely decadent mosaic/stained glass window depicting a breathtaking religious figure while someone lays slumped up against it either really bloodied or pathetic. like the brainworms have got to come out some way or another. im pretty sure reincarnated yuu would have to look starkly different to past life because rookvil would definitely construct a grand, gothic cathedral with countless stained glass windows depicting their beloved as holy, revered, awe-inspiring. should yuu visit it, and they likely will, they'd have to bear witness to it. every day, the townsfolk lay their eyes upon the enigmatic icon as they offer their whole hearted worship with hands clasped together in earnestness. flowers yuu used to loved would be placed ever so often as tribute to them. when yuu sits in the pews, they hear the people next to them mutter some rather unorthodox wishes-- they pray for their safe return. i mean, the christians often pray for the second coming of jesus, and the cathedral draws on many architectural aspects of Christian places of worship-- it is not unheard of for religious practitioners to hope for their god to reveal themself once more, but these people pray for nothing else like they do. not for prosperity and love and health and forgiveness-- the return of this deity is all that to them and more. what if yuu visits this cathedral on their first day in town, acquainting themselves with the area first before painting for the lords, and it turns out the person they sit next to is actually rook or vil? they wouldn't know, but he might. they'd ask him innocent questions about this unique, localized deity, seeing as they seemingly are not aligned with Christianity or any other notable religion, and he'd respond as though their identity was a given, their grandeur were obvious by a mere glance, the kindness of their heart and hand far out does any other religious icon. they'd be rather confused about the very niche belief system of this towns religion, so he'd offer them a tour of the place, indulge them a little. gesture to every single artistic detail as if it were born from his own fingers. unveil the secrets of the ones who built this cathedral ever so slightly, and of their desire, their purpose, their faith. he'd speak of very zealous practitioners who come into the Booths late at night to profess their hearts desire that only the silence of night and the ears of this deity are privy to. of the trembling hands and the teary eyes and the lips pressed to the coloured glass-- all out of worship, of course! and he's so very confident that their ardent worship will be answered one day. only if he knew that his prayers for his love were answered the moment yuu overheard them. when yuu finally leaves for the day, he remains-- leaning his back against the mosaic of their past life. only, instead of letting his gaze rise skyward towards the beloved figure in the window, like it was instinct for his eyes to train themselves upon the dearest thing to his heart and nothing else, he lets his eyes linger on the gorgeous stranger. he realised he never asked for their name. but it's a small town here, anyways. he'll find out, sooner or later. and he lies there a little while longer, kissing the mosaic he so painstakingly made and installed. maybe there can be a scene where rookvil returns, bloodied and wearied, but taking refuge at the foot of the mosaic. like im too tired to think of any more ideas but i definitely?? need blood??? in a vampire and religion coded fic????

anyways about yuu recognizing the artworks made in their likeness around the town, they can either

1. look very different, so themes of change and endurance of love can be incorporated

2. suffer a curse that unables anyone to recognize past yuu, so more plot heavy ideas can be incorporated

3. have the face of the artwork shrouded, but knowing rookvil, they'd likely want their face to be the most notable aspect

also there is definitely a scene where yuu helps vil pick out an outfit for dinner at their castle, or perhaps a fancy event in town. his servants are too busy with prep, and rook has already gotten ready to oversee everyone-- yuu should be a dear and help him out. yuu can either be the one kneeling before vil, helping him put on his undergarments which really are just a lingerie set, fastening the buckles on his shoe, pulling his zipper up.... hands brushing against his skin far too often and their breath kissing him. or vil can be the one to pick out an outfit for them, since they likely did not come with an outfit for a grand event. there, vil could drop very vague recountings of his past and his desire for beauty and perfection and all his hard work and all his previous experiences getting ready except they sound strangely outdated. they lay their eyes upon a gorgeous reliquary sitting in the middle of his dresser, and they ask what's inside. he replies, only the most valuable and priceless items of his amid his luxury. it's a limited edition and rare collection! but he does hint at having teeth and blood and hair inside it, and yuu doesn't press any further. gothic people are often for macabre trinkets anyways, they suppose. and vil notes that their hair is exactly like the one he keeps inside the ostentatious reliquary as he works on their hair.

alternatively, the reliquary could have past yuu's face on it, so it could be a chance for vil to add onto the story of this mysterious face that is all over the town and the furnishing of this castle. while vil is in the closet, rummaging for items, they peek into it. full of teeth and hair and blood and, maybe, preserved skin and tattered fabrics and a dried flower that is coincidentally their favorite and what seems to be a love letter and luxurious perfume bottles and paintbrushes and-- before they can see what else is inside this strange trove, vil returns, so they promptly close it and they resume with their getting ready.

urk im so sleepy i can't even see the letters on my keyboard. reliquaries are so pretty. hrngh. i nerd to sleep

I’m literally obsessed with the concept of RookVil unintentionally (or intentionally) deifying their lover over hundreds of years of trying to preserve their memory oh my GOD??? The village slowly forgetting a time where the mysterious figure was not venerated by both them and their lords??? And idk why but. I feel like Vil would be the one to really take the process to the extreme in his grief.

And on reasons for them to come back bloody hooo boy. If they thought they’d found a trace of you they’d hurl themselves into hell- they’d follow your trail anywhere, into places even they aren’t fully equipped for. Making the long trek back empty handed, covered in blood that does not belong to them, they’d stop at the cathedral as if it was second instinct. Apologetically kissing the mosaic, it’s like their grief is fresh anew- they have to start all over again any time something like this happens.

Anywho !!! Sleep well anonie <3 !!! Get some rest <3

[baroquebucky]

embrace

soulmate au where when you touch your soulmate you see glimpses of your future with them; the winter soldier touches you and realizes there’s so much more out there

series masterlist // previous // next

part three

word count: 2.3k

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !!! here is the third installment for my soulmate au !! i think I’ll make one or two more parts and then end it ! let me know what you guys think i love reading your thoughts !! <3 (bonus points if u find all the parallels heh)

You didn’t hesitate throwing your arms around him, tears flowing down your cheeks as you held onto him tightly. Bucky held you just as tight, burrowing his face in your shoulder and a smile on his face.

Bucky felt home. He felt the way he imagined the smell of freshly baked cookies would feel, he felt warm and fuzzy. Bucky felt happy.

“i- where have you been what happened i thought- we all- oh my god steve he’s been going crazy and-” you rambled, a smile on your face. You looked at bucky, he was just as tall as your remembered, his eyes a bit brighter and you felt your heart flutter.

“oh come in!” You chuckled, pulling him by his metal arm into your home, a smile on your face as you led him to your living room.

“i never introduced myself” he spoke, eyes on the ground as you prepared two cups of hot chocolate. You looked at him, laughing lightly.

“guess you didn’t huh” you replied, taking out the cups and putting in some marshmallows before walking back over to the couch, setting the two cups on the table and turning to face him.

“I’m y/n” you smiled brightly, extending your hand out. Bucky grinned, shaking your hand and introducing himself.

“I’m bucky” you felt your face heat up as he smiled at you, much different from the last time when you looked at each other.

“does Steve know you’re here? that you’re you?” you questioned, eyeing him to try and get read on his body language. He shifted slightly, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“not really no, i-” he hesitated before fiddling with his hands and speaking up again, “ive been laying low, i just couldn’t stop thinking about you and the visions i saw” he spoke, blushing and you couldn’t stop the smile on your face.

“i couldn’t either” you replied, looking at him before looking at the way the marshmallows melted into the hot chocolate. “I was so worried these past couple of months, i tried helping steve and Sam but it was so much and we were getting no where” you mumbled, heart falling as you thought of all your fruitless efforts.

Bucky noticed the way your voice trembled as you spoke and how you grilled the mug a little tighter. He felt his chest tighten.

“I’m here now doll” he spoke softly, moving to put your mug down and pulling you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You relaxed into his touch, tears welling in your eyes once more, you let yourself lean into him, closing your eyes for a second and enjoying his embrace.

“i missed you so much, can’t believe i could miss someone i didn’t even know that much” you laughed, sniffling lightly as you pulled away

“we’re soulmates dollface, we’re meant to be” he smiled softly at you and you nodded, a small smile as you wiped away a couple stray tears.

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation with each other. All laughs and giggles as you spoke, the sun high in the sky already and the city wide awake despite it being early in the morning.

You so happy to have bucky with you, a smile on your face as you started to think of all you had to show him, thoughts of the future you had seen made you giddy with excitement.

“oh you have to meet Sam! The two of you would be so funny together bickering all the time- oh also there’s this coffee shop i really like, very quaint but-” you rambled, trying to fit in everything you wanted to tell bucky.

“I’m moving” bucky cut you off, a frown on his face as he glanced over at you. He focused his gaze on you, stomach dropping when you stared at him with a confused expression.

“like here? to New York?” You were quiet, knowing that’s not what he meant. Bucky but his bottom lip in frustration before turning to you with sad eyes.

“romania, i cant be here- not while HYDRA is still out there and I’m wanted for everything I’ve done” bucky frowned. Your heart broke in your chest, you wanted to curl up and cry.

You just got him back. You had lost him twice already, you weren’t sure if you could handle a third.

“you can’t- i just got you back you can’t go” you shook your head, eyes watery already. You held his hand tightly and bucky wanted to badly to stay.

“i have to” he whispered, “you know i do.”

And you did, you knew this was his best chance and you had to let him go. You knew how painful it would be and how much you would miss him. You thought about the amount of time you had cried at night, wishing you could get to the future already.

But you also knew you would get your happy ending, you knew at some point in your life you would be happily in love and laughing in a meadow of flowers watching a sunset with him. And that’s what you held onto.

“promise me you’ll come back to me” you whispered, scooting closer to him, his hands still in yours.

“I always will doll” he smiled, slipping his hand out of yours and placing it softly under your chin, tilting your head so you could look at him. Your watery eyes met his baby blue ones, you swore they sparkled slightly.

“don’t worry your pretty head doll, we still have forever to be happy” he smiled, leaning in slightly. Bucky stopped centimeters away from your lips, your heart racing at his actions, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

“may i?” He whispered. You didn’t reply, instead you crashed your lips onto him. It was needy and rough, your teeth hitting each other at one point but you didn’t care. It felt like your heart were beating in sync, you felt whole.

You both pulled away, breathless before laughing lightly, your hair messy from his hands tugging at it. Bucky ran his hand through his hair, a charming smile on his face as you two regained your composure.

“if you kiss me like that again i don’t think I’ll let you go” you teased, heart heavy as he frowned slightly.

“what if i kiss you like this” he mumbled, softly placing his lips back onto yours. It was much gentler, softer and sweet. Your hand easily finding its way to his hair, fingers cascading through his soft hair. Bucky smiled into the kiss, giving you a soft peck before pulling away.

“you’re gonna be the death of me” you whispered, heart thumping in your ears. Bucky smiled at you sweetly, pulling you into his arms and holding you.

You wiggled a bit, laying your head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat, your eyes closing and falling asleep before you could even fight to stay awake.

Bucky woke you up at around 1 pm, shaking you gently. Your eyes opened slowly and you realized you were back in your bed, tucked in under your blanket.

“i waited a bit before bringing you back to bed, didn’t wanna wake you again” bucky smiled and you laughed, sitting up and yawning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“i got some food for us, figured you’d be hungry” bucky spoke, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as you walked out of your room when you finished brushing your teeth and changing out of your pajamas.

You looked at bucky with a smile on your face, bounding over to him and tackling him with a hug, kissing his cheek. You silently thanked the universe for giving you bucky as your soulmate as the two of you talked while you ate.

Bucky had never felt so at ease, he wasn’t worried about someone kicking his door down or having to keep running. All he could focus on was the way you would smile anytime he laughed and the way you blushed when your eyes would meet.

The two of you spent the day together, cuddled up on the couch and watching a movie, just like you had seen the first time the two of you ever touched. You smiled to yourself while bucky focused on the movie, his hand mindlessly drawing circles on your arm as he held you. This was how it was meant to be, your soulmate by your side and the feeling of home.

But nothing ever seems to go as it should. By the time night came you were saying goodbye, both of you teary eyed as he held you tightly, not wanting to go but know he had to.

It had taken an hour to move from the couch to halfway to the door, both of you crying messes with soft giggles trying to cheer each other up.

Finally you had reached the door, both of you going through too many tissues and looking at each other with teary eyes and matching pink noses.

“before i go” bucky turned, pulling away from the handle and into his jacket pocket, you could hear the jingling of metal. “I want you to have these, until we can be together again” he smiled, holding out his dog tags.

You didn’t know what to say, tears flowing down your cheeks again as you looked at him. Bucky hugged you, letting you cry into his chest for a moment before you calmed down.

“are you sure buck? I mean they must mean so much to you” you looked at him and he smiled, nodding before easily putting them on you, his heart fluttering as he took in the sight of them on you.

“I’ll see you soon dollface” Bucky smiled, kissing your temple and you nodded, hands clutching his dog tags.

���see you soon lovebug, I’ll be waiting here for you” you smiled, loving the way he blushed at the new nickname.

When you found out about steve finding him in Romania you acted surprised, guilt washing over you for hiding the information from your friend but you knew it’s what bucky wanted.

You offered to go help him and Sam on the rescue mission but they stopped you, telling you it was best for you to stay out of this one. You wanted to argue but you couldn’t blame them, you had been a wreck after bucky left, barely sleeping and crying over your soulmate.

You didn’t expect the bombing at the UN, bucky being framed and the whole team falling out. You had been in New York the whole time, skipping out on the meeting with the accords because you just so happened to have the flu that week.

“oh yeah stay home i can’t afford you getting everyone sick” tony has spoken over the phone, hanging up on you, a frown on your face. Not ten minutes later did you get a notification saying food was being delivered to your house, nice warm soup along with some medicine to help you feel better.

You least expected steve flying you out to wakanda, eyes wide as you took in all the technology, heart thumping in your chest knowing bucky would be right around the corner.

You felt your heart stop as you saw him in a white tank top, running up to him and wrapping your arms around him. Your cheeks hurt from how much you were smiling and bucky held you tightly with his right arm, leaning into your touch.

“oh doll I’ve missed you so damn much” he mumbled, a smile on his face as the two of you held each other for the first time in months.

“missed you so much more james” you spoke breathless, pulling away before placing a gentle kiss on his lips, the two of you smiling and resting your foreheads against each other.

“y/n-” you pressed your lips to his, quieting him. Pulling away you looked at him with love in your eyes, heart racing as he smiled at you softly.

“Steve already told me” you explained, knowing how much it would pain him to tell you. Bucky nodded, his lips curling into a gentle smile as he looked at you. His eyes landed on the outline of his dog tags under your shirt.

“you still have ‘em on” he whispered his eyes soft and his heart melting as you nodded.

“I never take them off lovebug” you replied, holding his hand in your as he smiled up at you. Steve placed a hand on your shoulder signaling it was time.

You stepped away from bucky, his hand holding onto yours tighter, not wanting to let go. You made sure you kept his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers.

“You sure about this?” Steve spoke up and bucky nodded, a tight smile on his face as his eyes flickered between the two of you.

“i cant trust my own mind,” he chuckled dryly, “until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head i think going back under is the best thing” he looked at you with a soft smile, “for everybody.”

You squeezed his hand, nodding your head softly. “don’t worry lovebug, I’m yours forever” you whispered, a smile on your face as he recognized the phrase as the same on you had spoke to him in the flashes when you first touched.

“I’m yours forever, doll” Bucky spoke, kissing your temple before slipping his hand out of yours, and stepping into the machine.

You stood next to Steve as the machine whirred, looking away as it froze over. Steve put his arm around you, leading you away.

You held onto the memories you had made months ago in your apartment. You held onto the flashes you had gotten of the two of you having a picnic in the meadow, giggling with the sunset in the background.

You held onto bucky, your hope.

-

taglist !

@felicityofbakerstreet @newyork47 @classygirlything @ebxny27 @hhaydenn @miaangel24 @shawnie--jo @quinnmaddie @mugscraps @bucky-32557038 @marvelfansworld @hey-there-angels @buckys2thicc @groovyvalentine

[twodimecastle]

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

[i-fondued]

Kinktober 2022 | Day 1 | Ghost - The Ritual, Part 1

A Sister of Sin get a little too curious about the sounds of music one rainy October night and get a little more familiar with Papa Emeritus IV than she was before…

Pairing(s): Papa Emeritus IV/Reader (Sister of Sin), Nameless Ghouls/Nameless Ghouls

Rating: M for Mature (That means sex kiddos)

Warnings: Voyerisum, slight dubious con (no explicit yes), religious undertones, M/M and F/F Scenes

A/N: So here is the beginning of a new project for me! I’ve always wanted to participate in kinktober but I’d been so wrapped up in other things so here I am, finally doing it. This is going to be a multi part story for the first 7 days of kinktober since I’m behind a bit on the month. Going forward I swear they won’t all be about Ghost but its the recent hyper-fixation and this entire work will be based off a dream I had a few weeks ago that I cannot seem to forget about.

FOR FOLKS 18+ PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T GET ME BANNED MY FIRST WEEK BACK TO TUMBLR

Rain was the first sound you heard as your eyes opened, the second was the faint sound of music drifting through the halls, slipping under the crack in your door. 

The storm outside started to rage, water pelting the small window in your even smaller room. You tried to ignore the lull of the music and tried to put yourself back to sleep but something was tugging at you to investigate. Slipping on a black robe over your white silk nightgown, feet tucking into a simple pair of slippers, you step as quietly as possible into the hallway. 

It was late in the evening for a sister as yourself to be wandering around the monistary, even the ghouls seemed to shy away from the dark in this hour as you followed the rhythmic sound of a guitar down the sweeping front steps and down the side hallway to the small ritual space dedicated to sensual rituals. 

The door was cracked just slightly and you can see a handful of bodies sitting around casually, quietly speaking to each other. The light was dim, candles flickered in red votives tinting the light ruby red, but you could see the faint glint of their masks covering their true faces. Ghouls and not just any ghouls, judging by their instruments they busy themselves with plucking away at, these were Papa’s personal ghouls. 

It takes you another minute to notice not all of them are casually strumming an instrument, some of them are curled up with each other. You see a pair of ghouls lounging together; a tall ghoul with a smaller in his lap. The taller one has his tail wrapped around the left leg of the other, arms wrapped around their waist. The shorter on has their hands on the taller’s shoulders and they lean in, pushing their masks out of the way as they kiss. A blush spreads on your cheeks, heart beat picking up as you watch them. You can see as the smaller one moves to grind against the tall one, kisses heating up as their hands slide into the others hair. 

The sound of a feminine moan draws your attention and you notice another couple, this time a pair of female ghoulettes. They are practically intertwined down to their tails, one has her hands sliding up the other’s shirt as the other slides her hands down the front of her pants. Leaning forward more as you watch as the ghouls start to play with each other, you bump your foot into the door causing it to creak slightly.

“Looks like we have a little lost sister…”

You jump, whirling around to the source of the voice. Standing there in his full papal robes is Papa Emeritus IV with a quirk to his lips. You can feel the blood come rushing back to your face, and you bow towards him. 

“Y-y-your eminence,” You stammer, blushing at the intense look in his eyes. “I’m sorry! The thunderstorm woke me, I couldn’t fall back asleep and I could hear the music.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to be lured in by the music of the ghouls at night.” He chuckles, his mismatched eyes locked on yours. You can’t help but look away. “There is a certain allure to our ghouls, is there not sister?”

He comes to stand next to you, the edges of his robes brushing slightly against your legs. The dark paint around his eyes makes his one white eye seemingly glow in the low light. You are transfixed by him, unknowingly you step close to him. 

“Yes, of course Papa.” You reply softly, tearing your eyes off of him to look back at the ghouls. Some have shed layers of clothing but never the masks. 

The pair of male ghouls you saw kissing earlier have now moved on, the smaller one taking the length of the tall ghoul in his mouth. His long forked tongue swirling around the head of his cock, the tall one’s head falling back against the cushions as he groans quietly. 

“Nights like tonight, we allow the ghouls to express their more sinful sides. It, uh, helps keep their pent up energy manageable so to speak.” Papa chuckles, you decide you’d do whatever he wanted to keep getting him to chuckle and look at you like that. “With the tour over for now, the ghouls in the Ghost project are more restless than ever.”

A hiss and a moan pull your attention back towards the room, the two female ghouls have pulled a male ghoul into their pile. All three of them are naked, the two females practically circling on the male. One of them climbs into his lap, the other begins to kiss the male as the other slides onto his hard cock. 

A gloved hand brushes your hair off your neck and you jump slightly, turning your head to see that at some point Papa moved to stand behind you, body heat rolling off him in waves. 

“Would you like to take apart in the ritual, Sister?” He asks quietly, his other hand brushing against your hip slightly. You can’t help but shiver slightly, but your heart was beating hard. “Or would you prefer a more private confession so to speak?”

Your eyes lock again with his, heat flooding your face at the look in his own eyes. “Papa, I-I…” You stammer. “If Imperator finds me out of bed…”

“Sister…” He purrs, pulling you flush against him and you can feel how hard he is as he grinds slightly against you. “I doubt she will fret over a sister who was driven to confessional with her Papa.”

You shutter, rocking slightly against him as his hand wanders from your hip to brush softly against your rib cage. At the same time he brushes his nose against your neck, you instinctively tilt your neck and he presses a soft kiss against your pulse. Your breath hitches and you arch against him, one hand wrapping around his wrist to steady yourself as you lean against the closed door. You can hear all manner of obscene noises from inside the room, some sounding somewhat inhuman, but your vision feels foggy as Papa’s teeth are dragged against your pulse point. It feels as though Papa Emeritus is pinning you to the door with his body. 

“Sister, would you like to confess something to your Papa?” You feel his fingers tug on the belt of your robe, the now open robe opening as he pushes it slightly off your shoulders revealing your white nightgown. 

“F-forgive me, Papa, for I have sinned.”

His hands wander again, coming up to cup your breast through your nightgown. It faintly dawns on you that you didn’t wear a bra underneath as you feel your nipples harden, his lips brush against the sensitive spot behind your ear. You can feel a small smirk against your skin, and you roll your hips against him when his tongue darts out to brush against your earlobe. 

“I-it has been 3 months since my last confession.”

You can feel as his hands slip to pull at the bottom of your nightgown, hands slipping underneath. You can’t help but desperately push back against him, a whine squealing out of your mouth. He chuckles quietly and while one hand grips your hip, the other slips just slightly under your underwear. The tips of his fingers brushing against your sensitive skin. 

“And what would you like to confess to our dark lord?” His voice is low, gravelly and deep. You can feel another shudder run down your spine as your fingers wrap around his wrist as he teases your lips, your legs twitching slightly. 

“I confess to lusting after my Papa, even after taking my Sister vows.”

“Somehow I doubt Lord Lucifer sees that as a sin, Sister…”

You tilt your head back, looking him in the eye as best as you can. His eyes are blown wide from lust, at some point he lost his papal mitre and you long to run your fingers through his hair. 

“Are you a good girl, sister?”

“Yes Papa.”

“Then let me reward you for your sinful lust.”

He steps back from you and you hold back a whimper at the loss of his heat. Papa takes your hand and tugs you toward the doors leading to where his ghouls are waiting. Your legs shake slightly, but he looks back at you with a wicked smirk. 

“Welcome to the ritual, sister.”

____________

A/N: Please hold out for the next thrilling chapter tomorrow night! Also once I can remember my AO3 log in I do plan to post this entire completed story on there as well so please keep an eye out for that!

[ivybucky]

dog tags and photographs - s.r. x fem!reader

Request from @moonstuffsteve : OK OK BUT CAN I REQUEST A STEVE FIC WHERE READER IS LIKE WASHING HIS UNIFORM AND FINDS A PICTURE OF HER IN THE SUIT AND GETS ALL HAPPY AND LIKE STEALS HIS DOGTAGS AND STEVE THINKS ITS THE CUTEST THING EVER THANK YOU

a/n: this was adorable and just so domestic so thank you Al! I’ve fallen into a nice little writing routine recently and ive been cranking these requests out like they’re NOTHING. as always, thanks for supporting my writing and fics i put out- i really want this blog to turn into something great, but i need to work on it a little bit more. 

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author: abby<3

words: 1385

cw: mention of stress, rough mission, domesticity, worry

Y/N smiled to herself as she listened to her boyfriend’s snores echoing through the apartment, something he swore he didn’t do. She had half a mind to record it, but the win wasn’t worth the fight.

She picked his uniform off the ground of the bedroom, shaking off whatever dust she could. His undershirt was thrown across the room next to the bed. She gathered it in her arms before looking towards his sleeping face. His hair had stuck to his forehead, sweat and dirt acting as an adhesive. Her nails picked at it, brushing it away from his face, before laying a sweet kiss to his forehead where his brows were drawn up with whatever dream he was having.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to wash Steve’s uniform. While he was definitely a gentleman, who would never make her do his laundry, Y/N took pride in doing this for him whenever he had a rough mission. He could sleep off the stress while you made sure he woke up to a stress and responsibility-free environment.

She huffed, walking towards the washer, making a mental reminder to set his combat boots out to dry the mud he tried to avoid tracking in. How many pockets does a combat suit need? You don’t see Nat with this many pockets. She knew how Steve was, how he had his own knives, and tools scattered between the fabric of his uniform. Opening every pocket was more of a chore than actually doing the washing, but it was part of the process.

Her hands brushed over soft paper, different from the usual metals that she found from extra bullets to blades. No, this was soft, pliable to her working fingers. She tugged the gently folded piece from his chest pocket. Curiosity grabbed a hold of her, urging her to unfold it and inspect it carefully. It was a photo of the two of them, when they had gone out for her birthday in the last month. He had pulled them to the park, stopping by her favorite store, and then taking a stroll. Y/N had convinced him to take pictures with the self timer on her polaroid, leading to him keeping the photo.

She hadn’t expected him to hold to it like this, folded neatly into the pocket of what he wore whenever he was away from her. She smiled, remembering how he had wrapped his arms around her that day, resting his chin at the juncture of her neck. Happy looked good on him.

She set the photo down in the basket she used to keep his things together, reminding herself to ask about it later. The washer rumbled slightly as the heavy fabric sloshed in the water.

“Sweetheart?” He called through the apartment, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hi sleepyhead,” she wrapped her arms around his middle. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Where’s my-”

“In the wash, don’t worry about it.”

“Wait,” his back stiffened in panic. “Is it already running?”

“Baby, I said don’t worry I got everything out of the pockets.”

He paused again, cheeks going a little bit redder. “Everything?”

Y/N only smiled knowingly, reaching up to press a smile to his cheek. “Everything. Now what do you want for dinner?”

He smiled sheepishly, following her into the kitchen.

----

A couple of weeks had gone by and all Y/N felt was guilt. While she knew that she was caring enough in her relationship with Steve, she had sort of underestimated her importance to him. Important enough to carry a physical photograph in his uniform.

And while he obviously had held onto something of her while he was away, Y/N had yet to find something to bring her own self any kind of comfort. Most days spent alone while Steve was on a mission were spent trying to stay busy, to keep her mind off worrying. The missions where he couldn’t communicate were the worst. The only thing to keep her feet on the ground was their apartment. The way his scent lingers on the sheets, the small stack of drawing journals in the corner of their room, the record player sitting in the living room. While they were all things uniquely him, they weren’t close enough, needing to hold more meaning.

He was gone now, hundreds of miles away, doing what he did best - be a hero. Y/N’s knee bounced as she sat back on the couch, waiting for her boyfriend to return. He had sent a message hours ago, saying he was on his way back, saying not to wait up. She knew she would stay away as long as she could though, just to see him when he returned.

She tried to relax, wearing one of his large t-shirts and listening to a soft record as she waited. Time, however, was not kind and only continued to move slowly. With a sigh, she decided to do some chores, any chores that were left, to pass the time. That is when she saw them.

While Steve had amazing leadership skills, he was, in reality, quite forgetful when he wasn’t focused on doing his patriotic deeds. That’s why when Y/N moved to the bathroom to change out the towels and saw Steve’s dog tags on the counter, she paused. Thin metal was smooth through fingers, save for the imprints of his name and service numbers that her thumb ran over gently.

It was bittersweet, honestly - holding the thing that began Steve’s entire career, and not having him there to bring any kind of comfort. She pushed away whatever sadness remained, clutching the chain to her chest as she walked back to the living room. Without thinking too much about it, she slipped the necklace over her head, letting the tags hang just under her sternum.

Suddenly, she had something. Something with much more meaning than a scent, something tangible, something close enough. Her worried adrenaline left her body, and as she settled into the couch, she was able to fall asleep with ease for the first time since he had left.

--

Steve was almost worried when he entered the quiet apartment. His return was usually met with some kind of fanfare - a tight hug around his neck, a body scan for any injuries, an interrogation of his mental well-being. Tonight though, the apartment remained quiet as he shuffled through the threshold of the front door. His eyes swept over what he could see, finding nothing too out of place. Of course she cleaned. His ears, those genetically modified ears, however, picking up the slight snore, something she swore she didn’t do, of her sleeping form.

His feet carried him to the living room where she laid against the cushions, wrapped in his shirt, clutching his military tags in her hand. His shoulders dropped as he took in the sight, a new kind of relief hitting his body.

He crouched down, a dirty hand gently brushing the hair away from her forehead. “Y/N?”

“Mmm?” she mumbled, brows scrunching at the vibration of his voice. “Steve? You’re home.”

“Yeah, baby,” he smiled. “Want me to carry you to bed?”

Y/N rubbed her eyes as she nodded, tags falling from her fingers. He swept her up in his arms, thanking a god he had strength in his body. Her head rested against his chest, hand trailing over his heart. His mouth pressed a kiss to her forehead, adoring the sight before him.

“You wearing my tags?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb whatever peace she still held onto.

“‘M sorry. Was missing you.”

“Shh, baby, don’t apologize.” He set her body down in the bed, pulling the sheets up over body. “You look better in them than I do.”

He left her to take a shower, but not before she called out for him, grabby hands sent in his direction. “Steve?”

“I’m coming right back, I just gotta wash off. I’m covered in sweat.”

“Don’t care. C’mere.”

He chuckled, slipping out of his uniform and saddling up next to her under the sheets. He kissed her head again, whispering words of love and comfort as she fell back into her slumber.

He had never been happier to fall asleep in his life.

forever tags: @avengers-do-it-better @maisondumepris​ @hamiltonwrite12​

steve and bucky tags: @fab-notfat​ @mcueveryday​ @nanners-the-great​ @mcubuckyandsteve @captainfile​ @moonstuffsteve​

steve only tags: @patzammit​

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

part iv

~

October

We fell in love in October

That's why, I love fall

Looking at the stars

Admiring from afar

~

Hey everyone, welcome to Puck Drop Podcast. Today’s hot topic—well, it’s still the Lions. Here’s what I think. That Black Lupin two-tap was fantastic. Right, Mike?

It was, it was.

But here’s the thing—I think that’s going to make a lot of people okay with Lupin being, well, let’s be real, I might call it fast tracked to the NHL.

Fast tracked, Henry? I don’t know, the kid had all the qualifications.

Fine, fine, but I do gotta say…if Lupin doesn’t play well…what’s gonna happen then? With Coach Weasley, with Black, with the organization. I just think we’re on a slippery slope here—

~

“Jesus Christ, Pots,” Finn shouted. “Take my fucking eye out, why don’t you!”

James looked uneasily at the golf club in his hands. “Sorry. Wow, sorry.”

Logan just clicked his tongue. “I thought we were allowed to play golf because it isn’t dangerous.”

“That is why,” Finn said, and pointed at James. “Until this untamed, grass-bouncing, metal-swinging—”

“All right, all right,” Sirius chuckled.

“We’re drawing eyes, boys,” Remus said from his golf cart. He had his feet up on the seat and an iced tea in his hands.

Logan glanced at the party ahead of them. “Harzy, am I gonna have to buy some lady a cheeseburger from the clubhouse again?”

Finn just held up his hands in surrender.

“You know,” Leo said once Logan joined him in the cart they were sharing.

“Ouais, mon soleil?”

Leo smiled, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses, then tapped his palm. “Didn’t think I’d ever find a golf glove attractive, and yet there Harzy stands.”

“Plaid pants and all,” Logan nodded.

“Those’re checkered, baby.”

Logan looked again. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Want to ditch and get a cheeseburger?”

Leo laughed. “Why did we come if we don’t play?”

Logan smiled, flipping his hat backwards and starting the engine. “To watch Harzy and Cap get competitive and James lose.”

Leo shook his head, then leaned back in his seat. “Loops, clubhouse, burgers.”

“Oh, thank God,” Remus said. “Bye, Black.”

Sirius raised his club. “Don’t you want to watch me win?”

“I am convinced this game can’t be won,” Remus said, and followed Logan and Leo’s cart in his own.

“The real win,” Remus said, squirting mustard onto his burger. “Would have been not getting up at seven in the morning to trip over sprinklers.”

“Preach,” Leo nodded. “Hey, what are you and Cap thinking for Halloween?”

Remus chewed thoughtfully. “Haven’t really started thinking yet. You?”

Logan snorted, stealing the mustard. “Knutty’s obsessed.”

“What?” Leo said. “I was a lonely rookie last year! Now I’m a…” he glanced around. “Non-rookie.”

Logan’s heart pulled at the correction. He nudged his knee against Leo’s beneath the table and felt Leo nudge back. Remus seemed to catch the brief silence.

“Watch Sirius make me dress up as the Stanley Cup,” he said.

Logan laughed. “Non, you’ve never won it, you can’t touch it. He’ll be the Cup, you’ll be him.”

Remus wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’m with Lo. He’s too superstitious,” Leo said. “No way.”

Remus gestured between them. “Three Musketeers?”

“Finn and Leo with a sword,” Logan said skeptically.

“What?” Leo smirked, resting a chin on his palm. “You don’t trust me with a sword?”

Logan snorted, pushing his palm into Leo’s cheek.

The doors to the club house restaurant sprung open.

“Victory is mine!” Finn shouted, and actually spun on his heel in a complete circle. “Victory is mine.”

Sirius slouched dejectedly into their booth beside Remus.

“Sorry, baby,” Remus laughed.

“Apparently he drinks from the keg of glory,” James sighed.

“It’s a quote,” Leo laughed.

“Muffins,” Finn grinned. “Bagels. Actually, burgers will do.”

Logan watched as Finn reached over and grabbed a fry from Leo’s plate and a bite of Logan’s burger. It was something they had started doing a lot—a public closeness they could always get away with. Finn unstrapped his golf glove slowly and close to Sirius’ face, who slapped it away.

“You’re not going to dress up as the Stanley Cup, are you?” Remus asked, turning his plate so his fries were in Sirius’ reach.

Sirius took his hat off to push his hair back before replacing it again and grabbing a fry. “Quoi?”

Remus looked at Leo and shrugged.

“Harz, do you trust me with a sword?” Leo asked Finn.

Finn smiled, dropping his voice low and flashing that crooked smile Logan had always fallen for. “You know I do.”

Logan just sent his eyes towards the sky, but his chest warmed at the smitten look Leo got, too, and he hailed a waiter for more food.

“Damn,” Finn said as their front door shut behind them. “Who said it was a good idea to go golfing in October? What do you say I mix us up some nice whiskey-warming manhattans?” He tossed his keys down and wrapped Logan up, arms around his waist and pressed a quick and hard kiss to his mouth. “Extra cherries for you, mon cherry.”

“Chéri,” Logan corrected, but he smiled into Finn’s next kiss, which was much gentler.

“Please,” Leo said, flopping down onto the couch. “That was the longest day of my life.”

“I can make it up to you with the longest night of your life,” Finn said, resting a cheek on Logan’s head. “Or we can.”

Leo smiled and stretched a little sleepily, pointing his toes. “I’ll take my whiskey first.”

Finn snorted and tweaked Leo’s socked feet. “You got it.”

Logan slid into a seat at their countertop. “Remember those ones at that bar you found in, where, were we visiting my family in Canada?”

Finn, reaching into the bar cupboard he kept meticulously organized, let out a whiskey. “I’d give that bartender anything she wants for that recipe.”

Logan sent Leo raised eyebrows, who snorted and looked back.

“Oh, would you now, O’Hara?” Leo laughed.

Finn looked up from scooping ice from the freezer. “Almost anything. Although, she was beautiful. Reminded me of this girl I dated for a second in college. Remember Hannah, Lo?”

“Oh, I remember Hannah,” Logan grumbled, and Finn kissed his fingers before reaching cross the counter to press them to Logan’s forehead. Logan just smiled—and he could smile about it now, sometimes—and patted the stool beside him with a look at Leo.

Leo pulled himself up with big eyes. “My crush wants me to sit next to him.”

Logan took out his phone with a playful glare. “You’re both sarcastic today.”

“It’s the golf,” Leo said dryly and slid into the seat next to Logan. “And you’re sweet.”

“I just like it when we all sit together,” Logan shrugged.

Leo laughed, hooking his feet around the legs of Logan’s stool to pull him closer. “How is someone so lovingly grumpy?”

“Please,” Finn said, stirring their drink. “Look at him. He uses it to get affection.”

Logan just smiled and reached for one of the crackers Finn put out before holding it up to pop into Leo’s mouth.

Finn sighed as he poured their drinks. “All right, I know golf’s not your thing. Thanks for coming with me, though.”

“Believe me,” Leo said. “It was worth it, you cocky golf glove.”

Finn snorted.

“Plaid,” Logan nodded.

“Checkered,” Leo amended.

“Ouais. Same thing.”

“No,” Finn said, looking up from their drinks, and Logan grinned, wrapping his arms around Leo’s waist.

“Non?” he asked.

Finn just slid their glasses towards them. “You’re fucking with me, Tremblay. Now, cheers to…”

Leo raised his glass, the other hand playing with the hem of Logan’s shirt. “Ring ceremony in a few days.”

Logan eyed the syrupy cherries at the bottom of his drink. Finn had given him two. He took a sip and let the thick sugar settle over his tongue.

“Can we display ours?” Finn asked, leaning his elbows on the counter. “All three in a row. I like that.”

Leo winced. “So many diamonds.”

“Why are you flinching at that?” Logan laughed.

“I don’t know, it feels flashy?” Leo took another sip.

Logan just pressed his nose against Leo’s jaw. “We deserve it.”

Leo smiled and turned into it, accepting a soft kiss.

“Jesus, Harz, how much syrup did you put in his drink?” Leo said, but gave Logan another quick peck.

“Probably not enough,” Finn laughed, and came around the counter. “I need to sit, my golf muscles hurt.”

“Right, those big things,” Leo said.

Finn just gave his own butt a tap and fell into their oversized couch. Even with all the space, they all still ended up pushed up against each other in one corner. Logan loved that more than he’d ever said out loud.

“Sweatshirt,” he said, and dropped another kiss to Leo’s cheek, took another sip of his drink and padded out of the room. He let his belt clink to the floor along with his pants and yanked his polo shirt over his head. His necklace got caught briefly in one of the buttons. He turned when two hands pressed to his hips from behind.

Leo pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then the top notch of his spine. “Want one of mine?”

Logan leaned back against him. “Ouais, thanks.”

But Leo didn’t move right away, just wrapped Logan up tighter. He pressed his nose into Logan’s neck and inhaled. Logan reached back and up, scratching at the hair that curled against Leo’s neck.

“Can I ask something?” Leo said, words muffled by his skin.

Logan stayed where Leo obviously wanted him, fingers kneading the back of his neck gently.

“Do you think coach is gonna start me?”

“In the opener?” Logan asked, and Leo hummed.

“Kasey thinks so,” he said. “Because it’s Bruins and I play okay against them.”

“You kill against them,” Logan said, and Leo finally pulled back with a last squeeze to Logan’s hip. He was quiet as he found the sweatshirt he knew Logan liked, and tossed it to him.

“Leo,” Logan prompted after he’d pulled it over his head.

“I know, I know,” Leo said, and smiled, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, I love the way you say my name.”

“And you call me the subject changer,” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I just don’t think he will,” Leo said, crossing his arms as they walked back out to the living room. “I mean, I wish. I hope.”

Finn was sprawled out across the couch. He’d brought Leo and Logan’s glasses over and Logan took another sip of the warm whiskey before curling against one of Finn’s sides, Leo stretching his legs into Finn’s lap.

“What’s happening?” Finn asked, thumb rubbing against Leo’s ankle, knowing they got sore.

“Just thinking about the season,” Leo said. “Kasey said he thinks I’ll start. I can’t imagine why.”

Finn frowned. “Well, if Kasey was gonna be gone, he’d be gone. With the thigh, with the crazy off-season. I mean, the League’s shifting around there’s no doubt about that. I think it’s calming down now, though.”

Logan curled closer to Finn, reaching out for Leo’s foot, too, tracing the shape of the nike logo across the top of his sock.

“And Kase’s the starter,” Finn said. “That’s what the organization knows, that’s what the city knows. I…I say this with all the love for your skill, baby, but I’d be surprised if it isn’t Kasey.”

Leo nodded. “No, don’t worry, that’s what I think, too. I just…”

He trailed off and Logan gave his ankle a tug, making him sit up.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Is this about bench time?” Finn asked.

Leo groaned. “I feel like such a fucking whiner saying it.”

“You can say literally anything to us,” Logan said, then smiled. “Leo.”

Leo just flopped his cheek against Finn’s chest.

“Maybe you’ll feel a little better once we get our rings,” Finn laughed, fingers running through Leo’s hair. “I know I will. I feel like…” Finn hesitated. “I don’t know. Every time I think about our ring, and our Cup days…I feel like I’ll never play the same again.”

Logan made an affirmative sound. “Yeah.”

“Really?” Leo mumbled.

“Nervous,” Logan nodded. “It all feels different. I thought it was Loops for a bit, but…Harzy, you’re right, I think it’s the Cup. I feel…I want it all over again, but it feels impossible.”

“I also…” Finn hesitated, stroking his hands through Leo’s hair a few more times, watching the blond curls slip through his fingers. “I loved our summer so much. I feel sort of guilty but…I miss it.”

Leo let out a soft laugh. “Thank God, me, too.”

“We get more of those,” Logan said, and it felt a little defensive.

“I feel selfish,” Finn said thoughtfully. “I have everything I want, and I want it again.”

“That’s not selfish,” Leo replied. “I think…I think that’s just human.”

Logan thought of the picture in Finn’s pocket and Harvard parties. He thought of long nights on the road, laughing with Leo over their sundaes. Logan had both wanted that over and over, but it had felt a little like poking himself with the tip of a knife over and over, too. He closed his eyes and let himself listen to them talk. Finn was agreeing, and then Leo was laughing. They ordered dinner for delivery, the Greek place down the street, and then sat in each other’s silence. Logan could tell Leo was still thinking about the season, watching the city lights out the window with Logan’s head in his lap. Logan stared up at him, at his blue eyes, dark in the dim light. His jaw would twitch every once in a while, a muscle clenched. Finn had a book open, slouched at the other end of the sofa.

Leo probably wouldn’t sleep well tonight, but sometimes Logan looked forward to their time in the dark together. Ankles tangled, eyes closed but knowing the other one was awake. They’d talk sleepily about the next day, until Logan decided enough was enough and he’d pull Leo against his chest, tucking the taller blond’s head beneath his chin for once.

Leo would hum contently. “What did I do before you, hm?”

Logan would smile. He used to listen to Leo toss and turn from one bed over, and now there was this. He loved that like air, too.

~

“Hey, rookie! Hold the door?”

Cole turned to see Thomas and his crutches, which seemed familiar now from him always sitting on the bench during practice. He was flanked by two people who could only be his parents.

His mother hit him lightly on the shoulder, laughing. “He’s got a name, Tom.”

“Hey, man, of course,” Cole said and looked down at Katie, who was holding his hand. “Gotta switch hands, okay?”

“No, I can do it,” Katie said, and flattened her back against the door. “Does it hurt all the time, Talkie?”

Thomas smiled down at her. “No, not all the time.” Thomas looked up and sent Cole one of his bright smiles. “Thanks. Sick tat, by the way. I don’t think I’ve said, but I’ve thought it.”

Cole’s hand instinctively went to his collarbone as he let the door to Olivander’s Hotel swing shut behind them. “Thanks. It’s my number.” He huffed out a laugh. “I mean, obviously.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting one,” Thomas said, and wedged a crutch under his arm and tapped the center of his chest. “Not sure where, but I like the chest as a place to start.”

Cole smiled, nodding. “I—me too. Yeah, maybe we could…like, go together, or something. I was reading some stuff about the best places, and also Nado was telling me. Well, trying to tell me.”

Thomas laughed. “Kuny kept interrupting?”

Cole laughed, too, nodding. “In Russian, though.”

“That sounds like Kuns,” Thomas said. “And yeah, man, I’d love to. Do you have any ideas?”

Cole shrugged as he and Thomas showed their IDs, the Dumais’ and Walkers chatting behind them. “Hopefully something about Lord Stanley one day, but right now…maybe something for my mom.”

Thomas nodded. “She coming today?”

Cole nodded, not able to help his smile, turning his phone over in his pocket. “Her flight was delayed but she shouldn’t miss anything.”

They walked through the lobby, joining much of the team that was already there. The large round tables reminded Cole of a wedding, and the stage was set with a podium for speeches with the numerous ring boxes behind.

“Cole!” came a familiar voice, and Cole spun around to find his mother walking through the double-doors, as if talking about her had made her appear. He wished he had that power. Blake Reyes was in her usual bright colors, her dark hair slicked up into a bun that let her tight curls spill over her forehead like bouncing bangs.

“Be right back,” Cole said, and Thomas nodded, tapping his shin with his crutch.

“Mom,” Cole grinned, and wrapped her up tight. He’d been taller than her for years, but it still felt strange. The soft curves of her were familiar, though. “You made it. Okay flight?”

“Yeah, yeah, read my book,” she said, and pulled back to look around. “This place is nice. How are you, baby?”

“Olivander’s Hotel,” Cole said. “Apparently different places were fighting to have the ring ceremony. I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Feels kind of weird being here.”

“Maybe you’ll be getting one of those rings next year, hm?” she smiled.

“Maybe,” Cole laughed, and then, more timidly, asked, “Dad?”

Blake’s expression tightened, eyes sad. “No, sweetheart. I…I’m sorry. He’s…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Cole gave a short shake of his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she sighed. “But it’s…”

“Come on,” Cole said. “I’ll introduce you to Dumo and Celeste.”

His mother grinned. “Oh, my shy boy is growing up.”

“Shh,” Cole laughed. “Don’t say that to Sirius Black.”

“Say what to Sirius Black?”

Sirius strode beside him, hand in hand with Remus. It was Remus who had spoken, and grinned now, and Cole flushed at the good-natured chirp. Sirius just offered a shy hand to his mother.

Cole had a wave of surreality wash over him for what felt like the thousandth time as he watched his mother say call me Blake to Sirius Black, who he’d had on his wall for God’s sake.

It happened all anew once they were ushered into the ballroom for the presentation of the Stanley Cup champion rings. The team and management had been called up one by one, but they opened their boxes together. Cole wouldn’t get one, but he leaned over to see Finn’s, whose mother seemed to love his own, their heads bent close together, giggling. The ring was square in shape, too big to be worn on any practical day, and covered in small diamonds, some stones colored red and black to make the Lion. The golden band was engraved with name, number, year, and, of course, champion. The word took the air out of the room.

Finn blew out a shaky, awed breath, and Cole watched him look up, something like tears in his eyes. When he followed his gaze, Cole found him looking at Logan. It made sense, and made Cole even happier for the team. Finn and Logan had probably been dreaming of this since their college days together. Cole looked back at Finn to ask him about it, when Finn mouthed something that, to Cole, looked very much like the words love you.

Cole blinked, but Finn was leaning his chair back on two legs, then, whistling two notes that got Leo’s attention. Leo, who was crying—an act that made him look even more like his dad, sitting beside him and crying, too—let out a wet laugh and wiggled his fingers at Finn which he had put the heavy ring on.

“One day, huh, Cole?”

Cole looked at Mr. O’Hara, who was smiling kindly at him.

“Oh, yes,” his mother answered for him. “One day.”

One day. Cole wanted to believe it.

~

Well, folks, here we are. We here in the studio welcome you to The Lions pre-game show. Dean, opening thoughts?

Well, we’re up against the Bruins, who had a phenomenal season last year. And, of course, we’ll see some fun rivalries tonight. Marchand has never been a Gryffindor favorite.

Is he anyone’s?

Ha, all right, there, Lee, all right. The real point is we’ll have a full stadium, and this game is ready to set the tone for the season. I’m ready, Lee, are you?

Oh, you bet.

Sirius found Remus sitting with Layla, legs swinging slightly from his perch on the PT bench. Worry tweaked through him at first, until he realized that they were laughing together.

Sirius knocked lightly on the door. “Hi.” 

Layla looked up, still mid-laugh. “Oh, hey, Cap, come on in.”

“Just wondering where you went,” Sirius said, leaning beside Remus.

Remus shrugged, looking around the room. “I don’t know, this is where I spent every other pre-game. Felt right, I guess. I was coming back soon.” He knocked their shoulders together playfully. “You left your stretches to come find me?”

Layla made a cooing noise as she opened the door. “Gotta get this to Kasey, be right back.”

Remus’ expression morphed into one of concern. “Is it the—”

Layla put up a hand to stop him. She pointed to herself. “PT,” then to Remus. “Winger.”

Remus looked sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

Sirius sent her a smile, but looked back to Remus. Remus pulled him in closer, allowing Sirius to be boxed in by his thighs.

“It’s a big night,” Sirius said, and pressed a light kiss to his mouth. “A good night. I wanted to be by your side.”

“Bruins,” Remus whistled lowly. “Let’s take ‘em.”

Sirius laughed, squeezing his hips. “I thought you were going say you’re worried.”

“What, about an original six team?” Remus laughed. “We’re the Lions.”

“Coach might put us out there together again,” Sirius said. “After pre-season.”

Remus ran his hands through Sirius’ hair. “My mind-reader.”

Sirius smiled, leaning forward to nip gently at Remus’ lower lip. “What am I thinking now?”

“That this is not your office, lovebirds,” Lars’ voice came. Sirius turned to look, only to see that he wore his usual strangely soft-stony expression. “I believe that’d be the front of the net for you, Black.”

Remus laughed, sliding from the table. “Sorry, man, we’ll get out of your way.”

Lars just looked down at a chart he held. “Black, stay a minute?”

Sirius paused, glancing down at Remus. “Uh, sure.”

Remus sent him a quick smile and slipped out the door.

“What’s up?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms.

Lars folded the pages of the clipboard back and set it on the counter. “I was trying to get you earlier, but it says there that you utilize the sports psychologist.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. Heather’s been a big help to me.”

Lars nodded. “I’m not here to violate any confidentiality, I just need to know if you’re still with her regularly. This chart stops a few months before Lupin left. Is that correct?”

Sirius tilted his head. “Why do you…”

“If something happens, I like to know who is familiar with her and who is not, that way I can know who I can help and in what way. Mental health is just as important as physical health.”

That made Sirius relax a little. “Not as regularly, no.”

“Great, thank you,” Lars nodded.

Sirius offered a slight smile as he slipped out the door. Lars was direct and to the point in a way that often came with a new job. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ first days with the organization, trying to be as professional as possible. It was true, he hadn’t seen Heather over the summer at all, nor too much once their Cup run had begun. He smiled a little when he realized that he missed her.

Remus was strapping his pads over his bare chest when Sirius entered the locker room. He raised an eyebrow, and Sirius flashed him a thumbs up. James was talking to Thomas as he laced up his skates, Thomas gesturing with his crutches.

Sirius, finished with his routines with his eyes passing around the room. He found himself nervous in a way he hadn’t been for a few years now. The season after a Cup win was always strange for any team. He felt the old sting of you did it once, do it again. They way he used to feel about goals—about any good thing. That it only mattered if he could repeat.

He blinked against the onslaught, it brought heat to his cheeks.

You did it once, do it again.

“Hey,” James’ voice cut through, his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius looked over at him, panic beginning to tickle his throat. He took a slow breath through it. “Quoi?”

James dangled his phone by two fingers like an enticing treat. “Want to see Harry pictures?”

Sirius’ mouth lifted. He scooted over a little in his stall, leaning in. He put his hand over James’ and squeezed. “Yeah. Ouais, please, I do.”

They made it through four before James looked over at him, contents replacing his glasses for the game.

“You’re good,” James said. “We’re all here.”

Sirius could only smile back.

~

Remus pushed away the nerves and let the crowd wash over him as, side by side with Cole, they took their first laps around Hogwarts stadium. It was their home opener.

Remus had only dreamed of this.

“Pretty perfect,” Cole shouted over the noise, and they grinned at each other before each shooting a puck into the empty net.

Before the game could begin, they would hoist the banner for their Cup win into the rafters to accompany the two others, won in 1941 and 1970. Hogwarts dimmed its lights, Remus stood between Sirius and Pascal, keeping his muscles warm, and a video began to play on the big screen.

“You know,” Pascal’s voice filled the stadium, much to the delight of the fans. His kind face appeared on the screen in an interview chair, the Lions’ logo out of focus in the background. He shrugged a broad shoulder and scratched a hand idly through they graying scruff on his cheek. “I wait for this all my life, and then I want more,” He let out a short laugh. “I’m the old guy, non? I love to succeed with my friends, my family.”

Logan was next, green eyes shy and watchful. Looking at him, you’d never guess at the fire beneath.

“It’s…” he began, and shifted in the way he did in front of the cameras. “It means more because of our team. We were lucky that it’s mostly the same guys this year.” A smile, a glimpse of fire. “Let’s do it again.”

The stadium roared and continued to do as Sirius appeared next. They’d filmed it a few days after all of the celebrations had ended, hoping to catch everyone before they left for vacation.

“It was everything to be asked to wear the C,” Sirius said. “And this team…I’ve changed a lot with them. Each and every one of them deserves this more than anything.”

“Proud Captain!” Finn’s voice could be heard off-camera, and then Remus heard his own laugh. He hadn’t even known he was going to be a Lion at this point.

Sirius shrugged. “Ouais? Yes, yes, of course.”

James, glasses winking in the camera’s lights, talked about his family, and then the banner was being raised to the cheers of the stadium, fans pounding on the glass. Remus spared one glance to the Bruins, who had to sit silently on their bench through it all, but just smiled.

He wanted a Cup. He wanted it on the ice this time.

The national anthem played, and Remus felt Sirius’ presence close to his back, even while he watched Finn drape his usual hand over Logan’s shoulder.

“Mon Loup,” Sirius whispered.

Remus turned his head slightly.

“Love you.”

Remus smiled. The words were just breath, most likely Sirius wanting the moment to be private, to avoid the camera reading his lips. Remus turned fully around as the lights came up, just before Sirius was due to jump the boards for a face off.

“Love you,” he said, and Sirius grinned.

Bergeron won the first and carried it easily up towards Kasey, only for Olli to intercept his pass. Sirius caught it on his stick, shot it to James—

Coach called his number, along with Jackson’s and Evgeni’s.

Remus hopped the boards and the whistle blew.

“Too many men!” the ref shouted with his crossed arms.

Remus blinked, coming to a stop. He looked back towards the bench, where he was being motioned back.

“Eh, confused there, Lupin?” Marchand called, which got him a hard shove in the back from Evgeni.

“You confused,” Evgeni said in his deep voice, and the whistle blew to re-set.

Remus tried not to blush as he skated to line up for the face-off, but he was surprised. He’d looked, hadn’t he? He hadn’t misheard? It was a bad change, that was all.

Evgeni won it, but Remus flubbed his pass and Pastrnak scooped it up the ice and scored an early goal in Kasey’s glove.

Remus closed his eyes briefly, then flashed them open, hoping the camera hadn’t caught it. Hockey was fast.

Remus took a slow breath as Coach called him off the ice as quickly as he had been put on. As he slid onto the bench he felt Arthur give him a hard, encouraging thump on the back. That still wasn’t how he wanted to open his season, his career as a Lion.

“Loops.”

Remus looked up and accepted the helmet bump from Finn.

“I’m good,” Remus said. “Little startled, I guess. I’m fine.”

But he played three more shifts in the first.

The locker room was normal, buzzed off of the adrenaline, and Remus sat down in his stall, trying to ignore the way James and Sirius were dripping with sweat and he wasn’t. He sent Sirius a smile but otherwise kept his head down, not really wanting to talk. He remembered this from college. Everyone called him levelheaded, but he was as bad as Sirius was when it came to emotions on the ice—even if he hoped he hid it well.

“Yo.”

Thomas eased himself down into his stall beside Remus with a grunt, and propped his crutches beside him.

“Hey,” Remus said, then, unable to help himself—it was Thomas, after all—asked, “Did it all look as bad from the box?”

“Re, it’s your first shift of your first NHL game,” Thomas said, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders. “The big lights get everyone. Even Remus Lupin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus said, running a towel over his face. “I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. He glanced towards Sirius, but he wasn’t looking at him, determinedly re-tying his skates and still talking to James. Remus didn’t want to say he’d expected some comfort, but he didn’t much like the the silence, either.

Thomas clapped him on the back. “Worry just makes it worse, yeah?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, my specialty.” He smiled. “I’ll be fine. It’s just one game. Thanks, T.”

Remus rose as they were called back out onto the ice, pushing his helmet back on and lingering a bit to take his place just in front of Sirius. He watched as Sirius hyped his team up, cracking jokes and tapping sticks. The perfect captain. Remus reached him with a strange feeling. It wasn’t until Sirius’ eyes found his that he realized he felt like he’d let Sirius down. He blinked, startled, heart beating quicker with the added nerves of not wanting to feel that way.

Sirius just smiled, softer, his smile saved only for Remus, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Love you,” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Remus blurted, and that hadn’t been what he meant to say.

Sirius’ expression immediately morphed into one of concern. “Re, non…” he glanced at the staff lingering about.

Remus didn’t want to talk about it here, not where people could hear.

“Love you,” he said, and ducked through the tunnel.

~

Remus was ready for October to be over. He tried to breathe through it—this happened sometimes, slumps were part of hockey—but the timing couldn’t have been worse.

Marlene tried to keep him away from the worst of the press, and Remus tried not to look, but she couldn’t stop what reporters he did do media with from asking the hard questions. How did he feel about his performance? Or, the even worse occasional one—how did he think Sirius felt about it?

If someone asked Sirius that, he went back to his unreadable, stony expression and gave them nothing. Remus only wished he had such a poker face.

“Re,” Sirius called from the bedroom. “Almost ready?”

Remus took a breath and tried to push thoughts of hockey away, laughing a little at himself in the mirror.

“If you are.”

“Really really not ready,” Sirius laughed and entered their closet. He let out a groan. “I knew I was going to find this hot.”

“I am not,” Remus said. “Jeez, it’s ridiculous.” He turned this way and that, looking at his swede, fringed pants, cowboy boots, and wide brimmed hat. “The vest, too. Now you on the other hand…”

Sirius sent Remus a sheepish smile and looked down at his Captain America costume. “I was going for irony.”

“Nothing ironic about Canada’s ass.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he was blushing as the doorbell rang downstairs.

Remus turned away from his reflection and looped his arms around Sirius’ neck for a hard kiss. “Show time, Captain.”

~

“Oh my god,” Remus heard Finn say over the kids’ halloween movie and the chatter from the kitchen as he swung the front door wide to his and Sirius’ house. “Oh my god, what is it with the PTs and the ref outfits? Remus, come look.”

Remus arrived in the entrance hall to Layla narrowing her eyes playfully—indeed dressed in an oversized referee shirt and cute, flared black jeans.

“We don’t get all the days off you guys do. Maybe its a lack of free time. Not to mention—” she rubbed her fingers together.

Finn laughed. “All right, point taken.”

“Come on in, Layla,” Remus said. “Ignore him.”

“Okay, cowboy,” Layla said, looking Remus up and down. “Damn.”

“Nothing for me?” Finn said, and spun in a slow, cocky circle, the black and yellow stripes of his costume, and his antennae bouncing.

Layla snorted, shaking her head. “What the hell are you?”

Finn looked offended. “I’m a bumble-bee. And Leo's the beekeeper, and Lo’s honey. Can’t miss him, he’s got a big, round foam honey jar on.”

“Ah,” Layla laughed. “Of course.”

“Come on,” Remus said. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Layla whistled as she followed him into the kitchen. “This house is huge.”

“Sirius bought it without a clue of what he wanted,” Remus said. “I’ve been trying to warm it up a bit.”

“It’s working,” Layla said, looking at the pictures that lined the walls. She pointed to the one of Sirius kissing Remus with the Cup. “God, I love this.”

Remus smiled, the memory flooding him with warmth. “Me, too.”

“Ooh,” Natalie, leaning back against Kasey’s chest, raised her glass to Remus. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

Remus fixed her with a wry look. “Are you going to say that every time I walk into a room?”

Natalie, sparkling in her finger-curls and 1920’s flapper dress, flashed a smile. “Yes.”

“She starts talking in an old Hollywood voice every time she sees me, so,” Kasey, looking broad in his old-fashioned suit, shrugged. “She’s not lying.”

Layla laughed. “I mean, I would, too, if I was dressed like that.”

Natalie grinned and walked over to loop her arm with Layla’s. “Let’s go see what movie the kids are watching now.”

“Yes,” Layla gasped. “Booze and Holloweentown.”

Remus watched the way Kasey looked after Natalie fondly as the girls disappeared.

“All good?” Remus asked, popping himself another beer.

“Hm?” Kasey looked up. “Oh, yeah. Just…looking. She’s leaving soon, for a couple weeks, to go see Alex.”

“That’s sweet. I’m sure he misses her.” Kasey came to lean against the counter beside him with a long sigh. “Sometimes it feels like all we do is miss each other.” He paused, biting his lip. “Do you…do you ever feel like you have everything you’ve ever wanted, but that you’d still change something? Like…like there are multiple versions of your life that include certain things and not others…but you’d still have everything you’d ever want?”

Remus’ smiled a little. “I…I think I’ve lived that. I lost hockey for a bit…but I got Sirius.”

Kasey smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“Feel lucky you feel that way,” Remus said. “I’m not sure its as common as we think.”

“Speaking of,” Kasey said. “Where’s your everything-you’ve-ever-wanted?”

Remus laughed loudly. “Uh, hmm.” He looked around, not actually sure of the last time he saw Sirius. “I don’t know. You’d think I’d remember the last time I saw those spandex.”

Kasey laughed too. “I’d think so.”

Remus pushed up. “I’ll find him.”

“Let him know dinner’s soon!” Sergei called from the back door. It let cool air in from where he was checking on the ribs, Celeste beside him with a martini, seemingly inspecting his BBQ sauce.

Remus watched Sergei wave her off, claiming it was secret, before turning up the stairs. He thought for a moment before turning towards their bedroom and smiled to himself when he saw the door was clicked open.

“I thought I might find you up here,” Remus said, setting his cup down. He looked around the small room. The shelves were empty of stray photographs now. Remus had hung them up all around the house as a surprise, and Sirius had come home one day to a hallway, living room, and kitchen full of them.

Sirius looked up from where he was sitting on the bed—just where he’d been sitting that night, one year ago. He’d left his shield somewhere—no doubt with Adele—and was turning a beer slowly between his palms.

“Just thinking,” Sirius said, then motioned down at the bed. “Sit with me?”

Remus settled close to him, and Sirius turned to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “How’s the party?”

“Good,” Remus nodded. “Kids are watching a movie. Apparently Nat’s going to visit Alex. God, that’d be hard.”

Sirius hummed in agreement.

“Oh,” Remus laughed, remembering. “Layla showed up dressed as a ref.”

“No,” Sirius grinned. “God. I feel like I opened the door for you yesterday.”

“Mm. Sexy fireman.”

“Oh?” Sirius said, then took Remus’ drink from him and set them down on the floor.

“What?” Remus asked, only for Sirius to flop back on the bed, pulling Remus with him.

“My hat,” Remus said half-heartedly, watching it tumble off the side of the bed.

Sirius just made a noncommittal sound and turned on his side, pressing up on an elbow to lean over Remus. Remus reached up to twirl a strand of his dark hair around his finger. He’d left it loose, curling at his chin.

“Captain Québécois,” Remus said and Sirius just rested a hand against his chest.

“A lot has happened in a year,” he whispered, the room dim around them and the laughter filtering up from downstairs. “Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other forever?”

Sirius had said that before, but Remus loved it just the same.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I’d take one more forever, too,” Remus said.

Sirius leaned down for a quick kiss. “Me too.”

Remus reached into the tight material of Sirius’ costume for his 12 pendant, studying it in the dim light. He’d almost kissed Sirius right in this spot one year ago tonight. He’d felt so confident about it, about loving who he wanted to love, about that person being Sirius. He still felt that way, and he wished he felt the same now, in the rest of his life, on the team.

“Can I say something?” Sirius said.

“Hm?”

“Opening night,” Sirius said. “You said sorry.”

Remus flushed. “I know.”

Sirius cupped a palm against Remus’ cheek. “Re.”

“That’s not—that’s not really what I meant,” Remus said, eyes on the twelve. “We don’t really have to talk about it now, we should probably go back down. Sergei said to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.” Remus tried for a smile. “He won’t share his secret sauce with Celeste.”

Sirius tilted his head, expression flickering as Remus pressed a lingering kiss to Sirius’ mouth and sat up, picking up his drink.

“Should we go down?” Remus said it in one breath, holding out his hand. “Logan’s wearing a giant honeypot and I really need a picture.”

Sirius locked their fingers together, concern still lacing his features even as he smiled. “I’ll sneak one. I’ll hand him Katie. He can never resist her.”

Remus laughed as they walked down the stairs hand in hand. “That’s true.”

Sirius pulled him back with a gentle tug before on the landing before they could rejoin the team.

“We don’t have to talk about it. And I know these games have been rough,” Sirius said, and Remus bit his lip as he looked up at him. “But I’m so proud of you. And I love you.”

Remus couldn’t help but lean back into his chest. I feel like I’m letting you down. The words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t quite force them out. I feel like I’m letting all of you down.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Remus said, and despite his thoughts, his smile was real as Sirius kissed him and led him back to their family.

[ad1thi]

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P1)

i feel like a lot of really good stevetony fics get swept under the rug because this is such a big fandom and sometimes people miss out on quality content?? so this is a rec list of some of the stevetony fics i feel like everybody should have read/ be reading

Edit (31.12.2020): this got very long (i had almost 50 fics on my list, so ive decided to split this list into two parts. part 2 will be out soon!!)

Edit (20.02.2021): part 2 is out now!!

//

picture me in the trees: @ifmywishescametrue

Tony and Steve were childhood friends that almost became more, but Tony moved and they lost their chance. Thirteen years later, a chance meeting brings Tony back into Steve's life.

Free: @iwanttopizzamanyou

"Steve reads, and the words dance in front of his eyes, because while this used to be his dream, what he wanted, all he can think about is how this Hell will soon become his full time life."

Steve discovers fame, with fans waiting for him in the lobby and girls passing him their numbers after the shows. It used to be what he wanted, he supposes. Except his future managers keep asking more and more from him, and he's not sure his old life will survive. Tony is ready to help, and compromise, but Steve maybe isn't anymore.

making it work: @/ironarm 

“Just tell him you don’t want to see him anymore,” Clint replies, finishing the end of his burger and starting to crumple up the wrapper, “It’s not like you love him or anything.”

“Clint, if I thought I could get rid of him about a week ago, I would have. But for some fucked up reason, I can’t lie to him. It’s like, I see those baby blue eyes, and bam. Whatever barrier that I built up from childhood trauma is gone.”

Clint chokes on the last piece of his burger, almost resisting the urge to smack Tony on the side of his head.

Tony was a fucking idiot.

Boys Like Us: @naferty

The video had been a mistake. One of the biggest mistakes he had ever done in his life, and considering Tony Stark had done a bunch of shit in his younger years, and even older years, that was saying something.

It was just that none of those things were as embarrassing as that video.

He blamed Clint for everything

Stained Fingertips: @thesoundofnat

“I don’t really believe in magic,” he said, clearing his throat. “But I’m almost certain you’re a goddamn wizard, Steve Rogers.”

Steve would remember those words for the rest of his life.

(Or, Steve is maybe slightly obsessed with drawing Tony. Not that Tony minds.)

Inhale, Ex-Sail: @summerpipedream

"Rich pirates decked out in top-of-the-line black market gear,” grumbled Tony, ”why don’t I have the budget to make those again?’

Rhodey inched back so that he and Tony were back-to-back. “We’re apparently law abiding citizens now, which means having to pay taxes.”

Tony scowled. “Urg, right. Remind me why I wanted to do that again?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “What was it you called him last time? Your sweet tart? Your apple pie in the sky? The wind beneath your wings? Hopefully he’ll fly here fast enough so we don’t get killed. Or worse, mugged.”

Tony Stark Bingo K1 - AU: Steampunk

As Constant As A Star: @atsadi

The Swan Princess AU

As young children, Prince Anthony and Princess Natasha of neighboring Midgardian kingdoms are betrothed, and spend their summers together every year until they are wed. Tony adores his headstrong friend Nat: it’s her scowly little companion Steve he’s not thrilled about at first. But soon Steve goes from being a thorn in Tony’s side to being his dearest friend – and much, much more than that. Despite Steve feeling the same way about Tony, the pair still dance around each other for years as Steve struggles to accept his feelings for another man: especially one already betrothed to another. Not to mention that Tony is a prince, and Steve is nothing but a squire.

But before they can make peace, Tony is kidnapped and dragged into the beginnings of another conflict in the nearby magical kingdom of Asgard – he really hates magic. With his potential usefulness diminishing by the day, Tony races to escape even as Steve, Natasha, and their friends race to find him and bring him home.

And—just to make matters worse—Tony has been trapped by a powerful spell and turned into a swan, of all creatures. He really, really hates magic.

Always Yours: @hollyjollyhope

Getting kidnapped is normal for them, at this point. But there's nothing normal about this.

And suddenly, Tony has a choice to make.

Oxeye Daisy (patience): @s-horne

“You make me want things I can’t have.”

Steve startled at the voice from behind him and turned around to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway. He stared straight at Tony for a long moment. The room was quiet, time stretching out in a thick and uncomfortable silence as neither man dare to move nor opened his mouth to speak first.

White Clover (a promise): @s-horne

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Tony lifted his head as he tried to focus on Steve’s voice. When he managed to open his eyes and blink a bit of the blurriness away, he was rewarded with a gentle smile being shone down at him.

“There you are,” Steve said. “Was worried I was going to have to talk to myself.”

Though his tone was light, Tony knew what he meant. It was no secret that Tony was physically weaker and a hell of a lot more human than Steve was and was therefore struggling more with the lack of regular nourishment that came with being held hostage.

“Course not,” Tony said back, voice hoarse but plastering a smile on his face all the same. His head was pounding and his eyes couldn't stay open. “Would I ever do that to you? You’d never get a sensible answer.”

Acta non verba: @firebrands

unapologetic fluff about two idiots who can barely keep it together with how hard they're crushing on each other

or:

tony has to help steve with math + a halloween party = a good time for everyone, eventually

you take me higher than the rest (everybody else is second best): @firebrands

tumblr fill for adi & anthonydarling, who asked for "'Prank' war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public" from this prompt list

Adjacent, Against, Upon: @firebrands

A political AU!

Steve Rogers is running as the Mayor of somewhere, America. Tony Stark, his campaign manager, deals with a candidate who isn’t interested in lying, and just wants to do good by these citizens, god damn it.

song of unrest: @omg-just-peachy

How was Steve supposed to reconcile all of this? The way he looked so different but still felt so much the same? It made Steve’s head spin. He knows he shouldn’t care so much, that he is what he is, but he just wants to know.

Paint The Town Blue: @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

Camelot: @weethreequarter

For one shining moment, there was Camelot.

In 2019, Karen Page meets Captain Steve Rogers to conduct an exclusive interview on his late husband, President Tony Stark.

In 2007, Steve meets Senator Tony Stark and falls in love.

he thinks he’s lancelot (but he’s more of a sir lamorak): @theotherwasdeath

Tony knows firsthand that violence isn’t funny. So why oh why does he think that the scene playing out in front of him, Steve and Victor Von Doom in a knock-out, drag-down fist fight, is absolutely hilarious?

wildflowers: @tinytonysnark

“So,” Steve begins, clapping his hands together, “the city of SHIELD is in debt. The big ups have sent for financial advisors, all the way from DC! They’re gonna take a look at the city’s spending and make some cuts.”

He squints at the camera against the morning sun shining through the courtyard, “I’m not that worried. Everyone here in the parks department is an important member of the team and absolutely needed.”

The camera swings towards the office where from the large glass window, Natasha can be seen picking up the ringing phone before immediately slamming it back down onto the receiver.

[A Parks and Rec AU]

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

[apolloluver69]

Some tweets from my twitter!

i just compiled some of my tweets that have to do with Pollo, Hya, etc.!

u can see why i sometimes draw things the way i do! each ‘-’ is like a new subject!

have fun reading 🌞

-i just got a big brain idea: hyacinthus had a fear of heights bc of the times zephyrus scoops him to the sky and harasses him but he was able to over come it by climbing the mountains with apollo

apollo discovers the ptsd when he tried to take hya for a ride on his cloud.. pollo took off fast trying to show off hya but hya was hugging him real tight, face completely stuffed in pollo's back.. pollo thought it was cute until he noticed the shaking

hya looks up, his eyes watery and pollo's like oh shit.. pollo immediately goes does and hya takes off(he doesnt feel comfortable telling yet bc zeph and pollo r gods) then blah blah stuff happens pollo and hya get back together

they do all the hunting, music, games stuff together, climbing the mountains every few times until one day they both finally climbed to the top, enjoy scenery, AND BOOM first kiss and after that hya goes to hyperborea with pollo, gets his own swan, etc.

-guys.. i was doing more reading and remember how i talked about hya's fear of heights.. theres a description of a painting with pollo extending his hand for hya to join him on the chariot drawn by swansand hya's also holding a spear (a hint of hya's spear skills perhaps?

-just realized how sparta got people so pretty gods fight bc of them (helen and hya..

-What if the reason apollo didnt marry hya is bc he learned that in spartan marriage, the brides shaved their head

-thinking about how hya having dumb and pure thoughts just makes apollo fall in love with him more bc he can read minds HDYDKHFDHDHJD

-notice how none of the hya and apollo stories dont mention that they did boxing together.. 

hya: we should try boxing together! 

apollo: oh im a pro! I've been boxing since i was a few days old! im basically the god of boxing! lemme practice a little before we start! 

 apollo: *gets up and starts doing light hoping and throws 1 punch infront of a tree* [pause] [theres a gush of wind and tree slowly cracks and breaks in half, crashing down] 

hya: nevermind! 😃

-hya wanted to do EVERYTHING with apollo, so i imagine hya gets some scratches and marks on his body everytime he adventures with apollo

- i believe apollo sucked most of the nutrients in the womb, hence making artemis short

i think he sucked all of her intimate desires too LMAO

-ive come to the conclusion that apollo has a big smile on his face everytime hes about to kill/really pissed bc if u look at the apollo of veii, hes actually trying to get the golden stag back from Hercules n he has a scary smile(ok it maybe the way they made statues but WHATEVR)

and in the Phorbas boxing match, before he delivered the deadly blow, it said he had a smile mingled in wrath lol so: the sun can't kill you if its not shining bright

-It makes sense to have apollo be the tallest god in Olympus bc he represents the sun and its the biggest thing of the solar system!!..... and artemis being the smallest... bcs shes earths little moon......

- Asking apollo and artemis what their body count is, they'll both be high numbers but very different meanings

- Remember when i talked about apollo smiling when hes angry.. yknow what other animals smile/shine theyre teeth when angry.. wolves/dogs

- Applying for hyperborean citizenship so i can become part of the biggest apollo fanclub

- shoutout to the cult of apollo who learned about hyacinthus the spring deity and then immediately decided to make him apollo's boyfriend

- hya at times butting heads with hermes bc he has a stronger sense of justice than apollo

- even tho hes ageless, i like to think apollo changes himself to look older/bigger bc of the countless times people thinks he's his kids' sibling or bf and plus makes him more fatherly

- i wanna ask some Phoenicians who they think was the lucky guy that knocked up apollo

-SPEAKING OF STRINGS. when the apollo ebook( Apollo by fritz graf ) said apollo uses strings to either bring joy(lyre) or death(bow) my pea brain was BLOWN

-Normal people after reading tsoa: wow p*trochilles otp 

Me after tsoa: apollo.... hot..

Worst part is miller doesnt even like apollo  so she wasnt even trying to make him appealing😭

- Went thur many iliads to see Homer really did call apollo the best of the gods AND HES NOT FUCKING WRONG !!!!! I liked the one calling him matchless bc i dont think he's ever been defeated?? (Except emotionally lol

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Sneaky (Addison Montgomery x Reader)

“Uh oh,” Derek said as he looked up from his chart to see you smiling awkwardly at him. “Dr. Grey, do you mind giving us a minute together?” 

“Of course.” You watched the intern leave and then Derek came and sat on the edge of your hospital bed. 

“Does Addison know you’re here?” Derek asked and you shook your head. “Does she know that you’re in Seattle?” 

“Yes, we’ve been spending quite a lot of time together Derek. That’s why you will not let that woman know I am in a hospital bed awaiting brain surgery,” you told Derek. “Also it’s why you’re gonna do your best on me because if she goes home and I don’t get to be there with her, it’ll destroy her.” 

“I’ll do everything I can for you,” Derek said and you hugged him. “You mean a lot to me too. So, I need you to push yourself to make it through this too.” 

“I will. She wants things from me that I gotta be there to see,” you said with a small smile. Derek left you and then Dr. Grey came back to prep you for surgery. You hadn’t listened to the words that Derek had said because you’d been through enough of medical school to know the meaning of the words he was using. It was bad, that was all you knew and all you didn’t want Addison to know.

Addison knew too much already. She knew you were tired and forgetting a lot lately. She knew that you hadn’t been painting or drawing anything lately. She knew that you’d been ordering room service more often than normal. You were just lucky that she hadn’t been there to see you fall yet. You were glad she hadn’t been the one to call the ambulance because you didn’t want to tell her something was wrong with you. 

“What’s with the face?” Addison asked Derek as she walked up next to him at the OR board. “Friends talk right?” 

“Difficult surgery,” Derek said and Addison tilted her head at him. “It’s somebody I know. They’re important to me and to other people.” 

“There’s a lot riding on it, isn’t there?” Addison asked and Derek nodded. “You’ll get through it, so will your patient.” 

“She’s a strong woman, stronger than I realized,” Derek said and Addison nodded. After he booked the OR, he sent Meredith in to prep you. “Talk to her, make sure she’s doing okay for me, please?” 

“Of course,” Meredith agreed. She walked into your room to see you tracing something on your forearm. “So, how long have you known Derek for?” 

“Since I interned for his wife in college and the beginning of medical school,” you said and Meredith nodded. “He was surprisingly okay with me being in love with her.” 

“You and Addison?” Meredith and you nodded. “I didn’t realize she liked women.” 

“She didn’t either. God, she hated me for awhile. Luckily, when I dropped out of medical school to become an artist, my pride was sold to pay for those pesky student loans,” you joked. “Some stuff went down and I followed her here. Well, she bought me a plane ticket and some rain boots. They’ve got little ducks on them.” 

“Sounds very cute,” Meredith said with a chuckle. “Derek, he knows about the two of you now?” 

“Oh yeah, seeing me on the ferry was a dead giveaway. Seattle is not my plan, but Addison can change things like that,” you said and Meredith smiled. You saw her get a needle out and you pushed your arm out so she could give you an IV. You were put to sleep and then brought to the OR. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Were you actually planning on telling me or not Derek?” You could hear Addison’s voice just outside your little curtain. You quietly slipped out of bed and tried to take a step, but stumbled and nearly fell. Derek caught you and put you back in your bed as Addison came to sit by you. “A moment alone please.” 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said to you as he bolted out of the room. Addison grabbed your chart and looked at it, frowning when she read through what you’d said were your symptoms and your diagnosis. 

“How long has this been going on?” Addison asked you. “These problems?” 

“I couldn’t tell you, but it’s over. He took it out and I’m fine Addie. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you worry a lot and I didn’t wanna give you an ulcer or something,” you told her. 

“At least you should be making a full recovery,” Addison said with a small smile. “And after that, we can start looking for a house.” 

“A house and maybe we could take a trip to see Naomi to get us pregnant,” you suggested. “I’ll carry if you propose.” 

“Bold of you to presume that I want to marry you,” Addison said with a small chuckle. “Especially after this stunt today.” 

“You’ve got a ring picked out and we both know it, so just pop the question. Given the circumstances,” you said and Addison sighed. You watched her pull a necklace out from her pocket. 

“You hate rings, so I thought a necklace until our big day. Y/n, you sneaky little idiot, will you marry me?” Addison asked you. 

“Of course I’ll marry you,” you said happily as you accepted the necklace. She put the necklace on you and then stood up. “Where are you going?” 

“Back to work. Dr. Grey will be back to check on you later,” Addison said as she began to storm off. 

“I’m getting a kiss, whether it’s from you or her, I don’t care,” you said and Addison turned and ran back to give you a kiss. 

“Don’t even joke about that.” 

[mintseesaw]

love like that

Prompt: You fainted during your shift in the hospital. And Dr. Min, whom your colleagues have no clue of your relationship with, has to be the one to check up on you. Pairing: doctor!yoongi x doctor!reader Genre: fluff, fluff, lots of fluff, established relationship au, drabble Word count: 1.5k rating: pg-13 Warnings: reader’s disregard of own’s health, imposing of punishment, literal spoon feeding if it makes you cringe lol a/n: something light before I update aurora ;) wrote this in honor of my fave yoongi look so far which is pretty obv on the banner haha

As you come back to consciousness, your eyes flutter open, only to shut them close at the blinding hospital light pointed directly at your line of vision. The pristine white walls illuminating the ambience of the sickly familiar room only gave you a dizzy spell.

Still dazed with the remnants of being unconscious, you couldn’t seem to find the last bit of your memory and why you’re lying in a bed inside a familiar facility instead of being the one to check the patients up, yourself. With your eyes closed, you heard a familiar voice spoke, breaking the oddly cold silence, “You okay?” “Why am I here?” You manage to ask with your desert dry throat and a pounding head.

“You fainted.” Yoongi responds briefly. Right, you did! When and where did it happen, again?

”That doesn’t mean I have to be here. How long was I out?” “About 6-7 hours. Your blood pressure dropped, so is your blood sugar. You’re sleep deprived and you haven’t been eating?” He answers in his usual thickly low, professional tone. If you only cared to listen closely, you’d notice he sounded like a father scolding his child for skipping proper meals over sweet treats, than a caring boyfriend that he actually is. You also fail to see the way his forehead creases, him sporting a cute pout while he scolds you with his deadly, monotonous tone.

The nurse, who is on the other side of the bed currently administering a vial medication through your IV, didn’t miss the coldness seeping through Dr. Min’s voice as her thumb slowly pushes through the end of the syringe.

However, the proximity between the two doctors picques her curiosity. The terror senior cardiologist and the junior resident are physically too close to only be labeled as mere colleagues. On your second attempt, you squinted your hypersensitive eyes. Blurry sight steadily adjusts to the familiar figure. As your vision becomes clearer, you finally get to see your boyfriend, Dr. Min, clad in his usual knee length white coat. The undone buttons of the white fabric lets you have a glimpse of his inner dress shirt and the black pair of slacks his lean legs adorned.

Your eyes remain glued on him, not minding the faint sting of the thick liquid as it seeps through your veins from the back of your right hand. The intimidating, gorgeous doctor that you luckily call your boyfriend returns the same longing gaze.

Prior to your fainting spell, the last you’ve properly seen and talked him was two days ago, when he had arrived at the hospital which was only an hour left of your shift.

“I didn’t notice, I guess I was just... occupied?”

Unexpectedly, he flicks your forehead which stung more than the medicine flowing through your veins. “Idiot, you almost got yourself killed.”

“Yoongi!” You whimper in protest.

Yoongi crouches his upper body, dipping his head low to soothe the now reddish area on your forehead with the supple pair of his lips.

He would not want to go through that frightening moment, again. He had seen the worst of the worsts, but having to experience the same thing that his previous patients’ families had endured turns out to be his own nightmare.

Yoongi received a call from a junior resident several hours ago. Ironically, your colleague chose to call Dr. Min out of all the cardiologists in the hospital. The junior resident assumed your case isn’t just a mere fainting spell of fatigue.

He rushed his way to the hospital, furiously driving his car like a maniac. How could he not? When your colleague suggested to place you in ICU if your blood pressure continued to drop. With you remaining unconscious, medications and supplemental fluids had to be administered through your IV to help normalize your vital signs. Fortunately, your body has responded with the medications. “You should eat before I leave.” He murmurs, peppering your skin with his warm breaths.

You didn’t respond, having other intentions in your mind. Lightly tilting your head up, you hover his parted lips. From the looks of it, you two seemingly forgot you have other company inside the room. At the unexpected sweet display of affection, the nurse quietly gaped as you both became too outworldly with each other.

“Only if you’ll eat with me.” You propose. Then Yoongi draws back, pulling the retractable board up over the bed as a makeshift table. Swiftly, he places the tray there which carries the hospital prepped meal that includes porridge, soup and side dishes.

The flustered nurse cleared her throat, silently excusing herself to give privacy to the newly discovered love birds.

Yoongi darts his eyes to the female staff who refused to meet his gaze. Adjusting his heavily graded specs on the bridge of his nose, he takes the chair beside the hospital bed.

Having no sense of will to consume food, you unwillingly pull yourself up. Yoongi then hands you a water bottle, which you took in his hand and eagerly chugged down half of its content in no time. But then the unappetizing food in front of you makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust.

Peaking on your left to look for alternative food that is a little appetizing than the ones Yoongi served, you found nothing else. Other than his daily dose of caffeine. You had enough of it for the day, but you‘d rather have another one or anything else other than that meal.

“Can I have some of that?” “What,” Yoongi pauses, only to follow where your gaze has been directed. When he realizes what you were referring to, he sternly objects, “No, not until you’ve completely recovered.”

Pouting in defeat, you silently huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. You really have no full intent of eating the food, but when you meet Yoongi‘s warning peer, you’re forced to mimic his movement as he obtains a spoon.

Holding the silverware between your fingers, you silently watch him scoop a generous portion of porridge in his spoon, thinking he would eat the porridge himself. But he held it forward, near your lips. The slight arching of his eyebrow made you slowly part your own lips, as if he has this mythical power over your body.

I thought I asked him to eat with me? And not make me eat?! You silently complain.

Yoongi didn’t stop pestering you with the porridge, almost force feeding you with his deadly stare. Something that you didn’t want to mess with ever again. However, on the sixth spoon, you finally had the courage to push his arm away, not liking the way it is making your stomach oddly churns.

“You barely touched your soup.” He proceeds to scold you, coaxing you with another spoonful of porridge.

Whining, you shook your head. “No more,” Then you lean your back against the headboard to increase the proximity in between. “Can you release me now? I have to attend to my patients. What about the meeting with my team? Oh God, Professor Kim—”

“You are my patient, baby. You need to be closely monitored until tomorrow. Don’t worry about your shift for now, your superiors will understand.” “But do I have to be here alone for the next 24 hours?” You gloomily asked, sulking. Realizing there’s no way for him to stay with you here considering he has one of most hectic schedules among the senior residents. He chuckles softly, reaching out to smoothen your protruded lips with his thumb. Gone is the terror doctor from the cardiology department.

“I’m afraid so. I would stay here with you if I could. However, I have an operation in about fours hours’ time. But you’ll go home with me tomorrow so I can watch you over.” “Really?” Your eyes instantly light up, loving the idea of you and him sharing an apartment. You considered the thought before, however, you think it’s too soon for you two to live together. And you understand that Yoongi strangely craves the isolation, so you have not brought up the matter. Unless he asks you to. Technically, you’ll only stay with him for a couple of days.

Still, this is a progress. “Hmm. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He whispers, taking in the elation dancing in your eyes. He cups your cheek, thumb rubbing indefinite paths to the expanse of the soft muscle. “Which reminds me, you won’t be spared with forgiveness this time.”

“W-What?” “Ten,” emphasizing his next word with a slap on the side of your scrub suit clad hip before continuing, “for each round. You like being punished, do you not my love?” You yelp, eyes rounding from shock. “I will make sure you’ll be sore enough, you won’t be able to come to work for a week, baby.” He promises, his orbs growing dark as his mind starts to reel with lewd fantasies of you. His warning alone had you instantly weak in your knees, the familiar heat rapidly spreading in your stomach, and all you could do is fist his white coat, groaning achingly in need.

Yoongi smirks, knowing full well what the sound means, then invades your mouth in a searing kiss.

mintseesaw © 2020

[hobidreams]

TES Minis: IV {M}

to celebrate yoongi’s first big break, you give him a proper treat.

pairing: yoongi x reader genre: smut, fluff words: 2.4k contains: condomless sex, dirty talk, oral (m), they get it on in semi-public (there is a limo), yoongi gets spoiled <3 a/n: this is a drabble for The Early Shift, but can be read as a standalone. this was written as a commission for Black Lives Matter!

It’s not a big deal.

Okay, it’s a little bit of a big deal. But is it a big enough deal to warrant all this splurging? Yoongi doesn’t know, as he watches you swipe your credit card on the machine, his stomach pleasantly full of extremely expensive steak. (He doesn’t even know how much the bill actually comes to; the menu didn’t have prices, that’s how fancy this place is.) But damn, was it tasty. And watching you try not to spill anything on your only nice dress was very entertaining indeed.

“Babe, stop it,” you snap, drawing his attention to your slight pout.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re thinking again.”

“It may surprise you, but I do that sometimes.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean. Get out of that snarky,” he gives you a look, “but cute mind. All of this is worth it, Yoongi. Your song, going platinum? Of course we have to celebrate!”

“But it’s just one song and there were four other producers—”

“No. You’re not allowed to downplay yourself like that.” You reach over the table, grabbing his hand. You squeeze until he’s smiling (a little exasperatedly) right back at you. He likes the attention, even if it does make him squirm. He deserves to feel proud of how hard he worked. Speaking of, you check your watch and wince at the time. “Come on, we have to go!”

“There’s still more?” Yoongi asks, downing the bit of bubbly alcohol left in his flute before pulling on his blazer.

“Duh. Have you ever known me to half-ass anything?”

“Nope. Never.” His eyes wane as he laughs, flashing those pink gums. “Drives me nuts.”

Stepping into the elevator, he bundles you close against him as it begins to descend. He presses an easy kiss to your cheek while he links your warm fingers together, wordlessly rubbing his thumb on your skin. His tell, for when he’s feeling especially close to you. Your heart grows two sizes bigger.

You’re right on time when you reach the ground floor, dragging Yoongi along to the front of the building. You swivel your head, looking for—ah.

When Yoongi sees the sleek black limousine pull up in front of you, his jaw absolutely drops. You resolve it was worth every won to rent the thing.

“You didn’t.”

“I totally did.”

The young chauffeur steps out of the driver’s seat with a friendly smile and a bow. You return both when he opens the backseat door for you two. “Thank you,” you say, and climb in.

“Where did you even find one of these?” Yoongi is still incredulous as he follows you inside, running his fingers along the nice leather. Limos of this size are rare around town, so you get his disbelief.

You shrug like it was no biggie. “Jungkook knows a guy who knows a guy.”

“Wow. He’s well connected for a kid.” He says it without malice; Jungkook is who he went straight to when he was looking for a flower guy for your first anniversary. That bouquet had been damn magnificent.

Yoongi’s still looking at the full bottles of wine and whiskey that line the sides when the car starts to move. “Where’re we heading?” Some notes of an R&B influenced song float through the air.

“Taking the long way home, so settle in.”

Among all this luxury, Yoongi’s a sight to behold in his dark suit, legs slightly spread, arms stretched, plump lips still a bit wet and doubly enticing. It’s with a smile that you shuffle towards him, messing up your tint on his mouth as a simmering heat lights in your veins.

“Your home or mine?” He whispers when you break for a breath, amused at the baby pink that now rims the side of his lips. He’s also panting a bit more, the crotch of his nice pants starting to feel tight.

“Soon to be ours.”

Yoongi’s eyes soften as he strokes a few strands of your hair. “God, I love you.”

“Sap.” You laugh, squishing his cheek with a finger before going back to get another kiss. This one gets a little steamier than you both intended but you roll with it, tongue slipping into his mouth to meet his in an easy rhythm. Then his hand is on your chest, sliding between the fabric to cup a bare breast in his palm, to squeeze in a way that never fails to make you moan.

“Wait, fuck, shit,” he mutters when he opens his eyes to watch you react, and he remembers where the hell he is right now. He hurriedly pulls his hand away, casting a glance at the poor driver who definitely does not deserve to witness the two of you behaving like horny teenagers.

You quirk a cheeky eyebrow at him. Then to his surprise, you shove him, making him fall backwards onto the leather seats.

“What’re you—”

“Shhhh, we’re celebrating.”

You feel around near the sunroof, and grin when you find the button you’re looking for. With a quiet whirr, the partition starts to go up, blocking the driver from view.

“D-Did you drink too much champagne?” He knows all the ins and outs of your expressions, and this one is dangerous.

“Nope.”

Your smile may be lopsided, but he can tell it’s a hundred percent genuine as you stoop between his legs and run fingers across his belt. You’ve got it unbuckled in seconds, his cock out just as swiftly. Despite all his protests, it’s already half-hard, firm between your fingers.

“Babe, is this even legal?”

You dip your head and Yoongi hisses when your tongue meets his bare skin, unabashedly lapping a stripe across the frenulum. “Who knows,” you hum.

“Baaabe...” He thinks he might lose his mind, watching how you draw back to let a trail of spit drip from your bottom lip right onto his dick, smearing it all over the now-turgid head with your thumb. His girl, still so beautiful even though the only lighting comes from the blurry rows of streetlights that speed past.

You keep your hand slightly slack, sliding it along the shaft at a teasing pace so all you hear is the sensual beat of the current song and your boyfriend’s supressed moans. Occasionally you’ll use your mouth, suck the head into sudden heat to watch how Yoongi’s eyes glaze over with pleasure. But if he thinks this is all you’ve got, then he doesn’t know you at all.

“Open your hand,” you whisper, lips wet against him.

He does. Then gives a groan of disbelieving arousal when you deposit something slinky and black onto his palm. It’s still warm, and he can smell how aroused you are from here. Yoongi had watched you put on the tempting thing a few hours before dinner, but he never imagined he’d be touching them in this scenario. When did you even remove them? It’s a question that no longer matters when you lift your skirt up.

“Damn, I’ve got to write more songs,” Yoongi growls, still keeping his voice muted and low.

You laugh as you dip the hand that’d been on his dick between your thighs. It’s a bit of a challenge to keep yourself balanced on this rather narrow seat, but your determination (or stubbornness) wins out. You part your folds enough so he can hear how ready you are for him.

The sound makes Yoongi eager, already pushing up so he can feel for himself, but you shake your head. “Let me spoil you,” you purr, collecting some slick with two fingertips before slathering it onto the cock that twitches with interest.

“This is more like a punishment.” But he shuts up fast when you start to lower yourself, when he feels the first bit of your tightness accept him, squeeze him. You take it so achingly slow, swallowing an inch just to ease off and make him savor it, all with mischief in your casual expression.

Reality is, though, it’s a struggle. Oh god, you definitely wish you followed Jungkook’s leg and core workouts more strictly now, as you fight to keep from just sinking fully down in one move. At least your muscles haven’t started trembling yet, though they’re getting there as you lean forward, try to alleviate some of the strain by resting your elbows beside his head.

“Hi,” you whisper when your eyes meet, then kiss away his quiet moan as you drop another inch. The limo seems to hum beneath you as you get closer to home, the apartment that now houses two of your newly adopted plants, and a music producing station now truly on its way to becoming fully-fledged. A space that’s slowly becoming seamlessly shared. “Yoon, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“I can—” he chokes when your cunt clenches, “I can feel that.” It’s getting harder and harder for him to keep his mouth shut. You love that, when he can’t help but groan at how well you fit together.

Lower you go, letting your mouth run. “Fuck babe, you’re stretching me out, so goo—”

The pressure comes all at once. Your bodies suddenly jerk forward with the car and in your surprise, you slam down, crying out when his cock smacks against your cervix. The burn quite literally knocks the breath from you, lethal when coupled with the sharp spike of pleasure at being so full. There goes your plan of slow seduction, but neither of you are complaining.

“Sorry!” The driver calls, his voice coming through alarmingly clear through the partition. “Sudden red light!”

You look at Yoongi, and he looks at you. Silly smiles bloom across both your faces before you bury your nose into his neck. His white shirt is getting wrinkly, but who cares because you feel him shift inside you, nudge against your sweet spot and bliss pools in your stomach while you whimper.

“You should be quieter, since the divide is that thin,” Yoongi mutters, hand fondly squeezing your ass. “Even if I like hearing you scream.”

You roll your eyes. “The question is, can you?” It’s a little cramped still, but you work with what you got. Swivel your hips, grinding your clit onto him so he feels how much tighter you become. You scrunch the dress up, wanting to give him a view of how you sheathe all of him with every stroke. He groans appreciatively despite himself.

But it stops being about teasing him soon enough, once that haze of need takes over your brain and you start moving faster without even realizing it. It isn’t long before you’re practically bouncing on his cock, dragging you both closer to your ends with each sloppy squelch. “Shit, if you do that—”

“It’s all you,” you gasp, and it’s true. Yoongi always feels this good in you, no matter if it’s on your tiny single bed or in the backroom of a coffeeshop or an expensive ass luxury limo. On that delicious thought, you press two fingers to your needy clit and whine so loudly it makes Yoongi look at you in alarm. (It’s still fucking hot.)

You cum first, but that’s no surprise. It’s a point of pride for him to never leave you on the edge, and he’s happy to stave off his own orgasm for as long as it takes to get there. Sometimes even twice. But there’s no need for that now when your cunt is leaving him with no other choice than to unravel and fuck his cream as deeply inside you as possible. His hands clamp down on your thighs as his face screws up in concentration, enjoying every last pulse before he’s left with just pants and aftershocks. Just for fun, you manually give him a squeeze of your walls, just to watch him scrunch his nose in oversensitivity.

“Devil.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

It’s only when his cock softens enough to slip out of you that you gingerly shift back onto the seat, sitting with your ass slightly tilted up until he can hand you back the scraps that make up your panties. You feel humid, but it’s kind of nice with his cum still stuffed inside you.

“I think we should rent limos at least once a year,” you say, glowing with sweaty satisfaction. “That was fun.” While this night had cost you a whole paycheck, you’re graduating this year anyway, hopefully into a full-time job. You make a cheeky mental note to set 1% of your future paycheck aside for limo rides or other sex-cursions.

“Yeah, it really was.” Yoongi chuckles as he watches you smooth out your hair.

Seconds later, post-nut clarity evidently settles into his brain because his face falls. “I’m going to have to tip that poor driver everything I have, aren’t I?”

You flash all your teeth with your grin.

Groaning, he glares at his cock before tucking it back into his boxers. “Your pussy is gonna be the death of me.” But he makes you cuddle with him anyway, even though you’re both sticky and your fancy clothes definitely need some heavy dry cleaning.

Outside, you’re starting to recognize the neighbourhood and shops, your scenic route coming to an end. Yoongi sees it too, so he pulls out his wallet and starts flipping through the bills. He looks up every so often, as if doing the mental gymnastics as to figure out how much this kind of thing is worth. He looks so earnest that it makes you feel a little bad for him.

“Yoongi,” you say, after he pulls out way too much money. “Remember when I said Jungkook knows a guy?”

“Yeah...?”

You shut his wallet for him. “The driver does this kind of thing often. So, don’t need to worry about it. He’s used to it.”

Yoongi stares at you blankly. Then his eyes narrow, bottom lip jutting out in a pout that is not supposed to be adorable but totally is. “I was panicking this entire time! I was so worried that—I thought—You just—! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You cackle, planting yourself squarely in his lap before leaning your head on his shoulder. He’s so warm and solid against you, effortlessly comfortable. “Love you,” you say with a smile, “super proud of you.”

Yoongi’s still grumbling when he presses his face into your hair. You don’t hear exactly what he says but you’re pretty sure it’s something like “you’re the worst.” Or maybe (probably) it’s “you’re insufferable.” Either way, it means you’re the most precious person on this earth.

a/n: i can’t tell you how much i love writing soft Yoongi! i hope you love him too 💕 bonus: how did Yoongi ask you to move in? ♡

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

random thoughts on jon connington’s chapters

The last time I read this was over four years and  I had a different take on Aegon, so I was curious to see on what changed with a second read.

----

The Lost Lord  ~ ADWD

Sansa and Aegon

Alayne II (Sansa II) ~ AFFC

When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright."

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"We have gone to great lengths to keep Prince Aegon hidden all these years," Lemore reminded him. "The time will come for him to wash his hair and declare himself, I know, but that time is not now. Not to a camp of sellswords." (...)

"The plan was to reveal Prince Aegon only when we reached Queen Daenerys," Lemore was saying." (...)

The prince wore sword and dagger, black boots polished to a high sheen, a black cloak lined with blood-red silk. With his hair washed and cut and freshly dyed a deep, dark blue, his eyes looked blue as well. At his throat he wore three huge square-cut rubies on a chain of black iron, a gift from Magister Illyrio. Red and black. Dragon colors. That was good. "You look a proper prince," he told the boy. (...)

Sansa and Aegon are supposed to reveal themselves by washing the dye out of their hair and wearing their house colours, in an event that involves a wedding with someone that will facilitate claiming their birthright.

However, Aegon said “fuck that bitch Danerys” and getting married, revealed himself somewhat (to the Golden Company higher-ups only) wearing his house colours and went back to Westeros to reclaim his birthright on his own, unware that his cousin from his mother’s side is coming to him to offer aid in the war.. Aegon washing his hair of the blue dye and doning his armour will only happen wieh he sets foot in Westeros.

Likewise, we can draw a parallel scenario for Sansa and considering the “Sansa is grey girl who flees from a marriage” it all fits, Like Aegon, Sansa syas “fuck that bitch blonde Bobby B Harry and getting married, like Aegon she wears a grey cloak, and like Aegon she’ll be meeting her cousin and eventually claim her birthright.

I somehow doubt Sansa will be getting an army that soon, but in the show she got the Wildlings (via Jon, who can be seen as “sellsword” type of warriors) and the Vale army. In the books, there’s the mountain clans both in the Vale (loyal to Tyrion, whom she’s married to) and the north mountain clans (those that protected Bran because he is Ned’s son and joined Stannis also because of Ned and his daughter).

Another thing of note is Aegon ended up cutting his hair but dyed blue once more, so this may be true for Sansa as well. She may cut it shorter (a parallel to her sister Arya as well) but keep dying it for awhile still. Such, she may reach the Wall and meet Jon as a brunette (a parallel to Jeyne Poole as well as  Alys Karstark).  ETA: Likewise Aegon only revealing himself by washing his hair and doning his armour when he invades Westeros (his birthright), Sansa may only wash her hair and done her armour when the northern campaign starts.

Regardless, This is a smart choice because...

Cersei IV ~ ADWD

The queen bristled. "I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf." She refused to say the girl's name. "I ought to have shown her to the black cells as the daughter of a traitor, but instead I made her part of mine own household. She shared my hearth and hall, played with my own children. I fed her, dressed her, tried to make her a little less ignorant about the world, and how did she repay me for my kindness? She helped murder my son. When we find the Imp, we will find the Lady Sansa too. She is not dead . . . but before I am done with her, I promise you, she will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss."

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"His because they're bought and paid for. Ten thousand armed strangers, plus hangers-on and camp followers. All it takes is one to bring us all to ruin. If Hugor's head was worth a lord's honors, how much will Cersei Lannister pay for the rightful heir to the Iron Throne? You do not know these men, my lord. It has been a dozen years since you last rode with the Golden Company, and your old friend is dead."

Cersei’s attention on Aegon is also a parallel to Cersei’s attention to Sansa, interestingly enough Tyrion is mentioned in both instances. Cersei’s attention on Sansa also come attached with the “singing the Stranger for a kiss”, which is interesting because if “Sansa is the Grey Girl” theory holds to, the guy she’s running to for protection is in fact.... dead or close to (the Stranger is their god and in the show... the episode was aplty named, the Book of the Stranger).

The bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia of Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince. (...)

He had grown fond of Lemore, but that did not mean he required her approval. Her task had been to instruct the prince in the doctrines of the Faith, and she had done that. No amount of prayer would put him on the Iron Throne, however. That was Griff's task. He had failed Prince Rhaegar once. He would not fail his son. 

Let me live long enough to see the boy sit the Iron Throne, and Varys will pay for that slight and so much more. Then we'll see who's soon forgotten.

I grant that the obsession that Jon Connington has for Rhaegar Targaryen is milder and more honourable, compared to the obsession Littlefinger has for Catelyn Tully, but the fact is this is yet another parallel between Sansa and Aegon. They both have mentors with an unhealthy obsession with one of their parents and hate the other, which they project onto the kids. Last, but not least, both mentors are passing off as parents of the children while they remain disguised under a false indentiy.

However, as Sansa will have to run from Littlefinger’s toxic shadow, I suspect Aegon will do much the same. I have suspicions. Sansa escaped Littlefinger because of Jon, as he took the role of protection. No matter how people see the ship, the fact is Jon is a lot like Ned V2 (at least, that’s how Littlefinger will see it and he hated the man) but the truth is Jon is Ned’s nephew and Sansa’s cousin from his mother’s side.

Likewise, Aegon is about to meet Arianne Martell, who’s the niece of his mother Elia Martell, which makes them cousins from his mother’s side. Elia Martell, whom Jon Connington... hates, often speculated in fact that he was in love with Rhaegar Targaryen himself. The symmetry of all this, not only the mentor’s obsession with the children but also the love / hate hey have for their parents.

Connington’s wish to see Aegon crowned and the giant chip he has on his shoulder for not being recognised. For the former, I have not found any reference to Littlefinger wanting to sit the Iron Throne in the books, but this was basically his goal in the show. To be king with Sansa by his side. For the latter, well that’s the drive of his character, he’s a social climber seeking recognition.

Sansa VII ~ ASOS

I will tell my aunt that I don't want to marry Robert. Not even the High Septon himself could declare a woman married if she refused to say the vows. She wasn't a beggar, no matter what her aunt said. She was thirteen, a woman flowered and wed, the heir to Winterfell.

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"Why should I go running to my aunt  [implied marriage] as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me … in Westeros." 

Eh. Same energy. They are not beggars and they know their birthright, they will not be forced to marry someone they don’t want to to facilitate it.

----

TL;DR: I think these concurrence between Sansa and Aegon suggest that Aegon is real, but also glimpse into their characters beyond their toxic mentors and their ascencion to power. It will be interesting to watch their common points in future events, even if by the fact that they’re different genders and that makes PLENTY of difference in ASOIAF.

Jon and Aegon

Jon II ~ ASOS

A few tents were still standing on the far side of the camp, and it was there they found Mance Rayder. Beneath his slashed cloak of black wool and red silk he wore black ringmail and shaggy fur breeches, and on his head was a great bronze-and-iron helm with raven wings at either temple. Jarl was with him, and Harma the Dogshead; Styr as well, and Varamyr Sixskins with his wolves and his shadowcat.

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

The prince wore sword and dagger, black boots polished to a high sheen, a black cloak lined with blood-red silk. With his hair washed and cut and freshly dyed a deep, dark blue, his eyes looked blue as well. At his throat he wore three huge square-cut rubies on a chain of black iron, a gift from Magister Illyrio. Red and black. Dragon colors. That was good. "You look a proper prince," he told the boy. (...)

I personally ignored Aegon because I started with the show and didn’t know he was a (living) character until I read the books. I wasn’t even all that convinced he’d be particularly important. So I always looked at Jon’s interactions with Mance (associated with black + red) as "preparation” for Jon’s internactions with Daniella.

Hoewver, that changed when show!Cersei took over some of book!Aegon role: sitting on the Iron Throne, the Golden Company, and loved over Daniella in the last to final episode. It seems to me now that Mance can also (at the very least if not all) be seen as “preparation” for Jon’s interactions Aegon. As said, Mance  dresss in a black and red cloak which associates him with Targs, the cloak being “copied” by Aegon. Mance united the notorious “give no fucks about authority) wildlings under one idea (run from the Others), while Aegon united a sellsword compay (sellswords are untrustworthty).

Moreover, it’s my conviction that Jon and Aegon are probably going to war against each other for a time (this is illustrated by what I believe are their respective dragons and a natural consequence if Aegon sits in King’s Landing while the Starks declare Northern Indepdencen), until they sommehow make peace (in case of Mance and Jon it was because of the Others, but for Jon and Aegon it could be their fire counterart, Danerys).

TL;DR: I think these vague connections between Mance and Aegon are rather interesting and may be “preparation” for Jon and Aegon’s intereactons will involve war AND peace. Interestingly, Connington’s next chapter feaures battle.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted to You

Part V: Beast of Burden

Summary/Author's Note: Let's have some happy shall we? You flash back to one of your earliest memories with Frankie. You and Will have a heart to heart. (Thank you guys so much for your amazing compliments and feedback. It means the world.) ((also dear god I love this gif so much, the hair, the wind, the hand gestures, the way he says “--FUCKING ANDES, MAN”)) gif by @pascalplease 

**There is a Top Gun reference in here because y'all cannot sit there and tell me it's not Fransisco Catfish Morales's favorite movie--so, if you've never seen it, it might seem out of place or left field but I PROMISE it is fitting.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope's Sister! Reader Word Count: 4.4k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ -- feelings, heavy petting, thigh riding, fingering, Frankie's giant hands, all the kisses, hurt/comfort, YEARNING AND PINING, long lost love, language, Frankie is made out of pure HUSBAND material, y’all, fucking tom

Part I * Part II * Part III * Part IV

[MASTERLIST]

The two vehicles drove one behind the other for most of the morning. You watched the sun come up through the dense tree line, little slivers of golden flashes of light through the lush, green leaves that made you smile slightly in its beauty. Seeing the sun, knowing that the distance between you and Lorea's mansion was growing by the minute, made you finally be able to draw a deep breath without feeling like you were going to crack a rib in the process. The panic had subsided, but afterwards came the muscle fatigue and unadulterated exhaustion of being that tense for that long. Your eyes were heavy, but you couldn't sleep, not yet. 

Frankie eventually let go of your hand, needing both of them to turn the steering wheel on some of the switchback roads in the heart of the jungle, but as soon as the road turned straight again, his hand was a warm and gentle weight on your thigh. It was as if he thought the moment he stopped touching you, you would cease to be real. Maybe he was right--maybe his touch was the only thing keeping you centered in your own existence right now. 

"You should sleep," he said quietly, glancing away from the road to look at you then back. 

"I can't." 

He squeezed your thigh and nodded. "You look exhausted."

You chuckled softly and smiled halfheartedly. "I've been awake for the better part of three days, Frankie. If I didn't look exhausted, I would be worried."

He grinned in return, thankful that you at least we're starting to sound like your old self. You both still had a long way to go. He selfishly longed to see that spark back within you, the one he fell in love with--the one that gave him courage and the strength to do just about anything, including getting out of this fucking jungle. 

He pulled into a very old, rundown airstrip hangar and you sat up a little straighter, taking off your seat belt as he threw it in park. A small yellow beat up gremlin was parked off to the side where a pretty woman and a man leaned against the open hatchback.

"Who's that?" You asked.

"Pope's informant. We owe her big time."

You looked at her and suddenly was overwhelmed with the idea of not knowing what to say. She looked so normal, a civilian that should have been far away from all of this chaos and yet here she was, playing a huge part in the fact that you were still alive. 

Frankie got out of the van and walked around the front to open the door for you as he held out his hand. You nodded your thanks and gripped it, leaning on him more than you would have liked, but god dammit you were tired. 

"Your girlfriend is here," Frankie nodded towards the yellow car as Pope hopped out of the second SUV. 

"Girlfriend?" Now that made you smile as you raised an eyebrow at your brother who blushed.

"Shut up," he said flatly before walking over to them. Frankie chuckled and shook his head. 

He put his hand in the edge of your hair at your temple, gently running his thumb over the side of your forehead as he looked you over. "I gotta start weighing these bags. Go sit with Will. I'll be close by," he added before you could protest, with a wink and a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Okay,” you said softly and he hesitated for a moment before drawing you into the circle of his arms and sighing heavily. You clung to his shirt and breathed him in and he hugged you so tightly you felt compressed, but you weren’t about to tell him to stop. “Frankie--” you focused on the way he smelled, like humidity and sweat but underneath it all it was still him, solid and warm. “If you keep hugging me like this, I’m going to lose it and I can’t--I can’t right now.” Your voice faltered towards the end and you balled his shirt into your fists.

“Do you want me to stop?” he mumbled against your hair and the very idea brought tears to the front of your eyes. 

“God, no,” you let out an exasperated laugh and he squeezed you tighter. You pulled back slightly and wiped your eyes on the back of your hand, giving him a smile. With each touch he offered, your heart felt lighter, but then again that had always been one of Frankie’s powers over you. 

“Fuck!”

Both of you turned as Benny got out of the SUV and slammed the door shut, kicking the tire. Will and Tom followed suit but shut the doors normally, adjusting the strap of their rifles and packs. “What?” Tom snarled at Benny and the younger man threw his arms up in the air.

“What do you mean ‘what’? That was a shit job back there and you know it! We don’t leave messes like that!” Benny was seething. Frankie felt you tense and he let go of you slowly and turned to the other men. 

“Hey--Ben, Benny!” He raised his voice and the younger man looked at him. “Take a walk--relax.” He rubbed his hand down his face and glanced at you apologetically as Benny threw his pack down and laced his hands on top of his head, breathing deeply and walking into the grass. 

“If no one cares,” Will put a hand to his left side and winced. “I think I’m gonna sit.”

“Let me help,” you said, jogging over to the blond and he smiled slightly. 

Tom and Frankie started unloading the duffel bags of cash onto the giant rusty scale that sat under a dilapidated awning. Will sat down on a concrete ledge that connected to a retainer wall and he cursed quietly, when he moved his hand away from the wound his fingers had a few drops of fresh blood on them. “Shit,” he sighed.

“You got another bandage kit?” you asked, dropping down to one knee and starting to unzip his pack for him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, wincing again as he pulled his shirt up to examine the wound further. “You don’t have to--”

“Hush,” you said and he laughed, making you return it. Will had one of the most infectious smiles and laughs of any of your brother’s crew. 

“I missed you, ya know? We all did.” He watched as you lifted his shirt out of your way and removed the first round of gauze that was bloody and soaked through. 

“I missed you guys, too. It’s been a long time.” 

“Too bad we gotta get the gang back together for this--haven’t any of us heard of like a barbecue or something?” he joked. You laughed but didn’t respond, focusing on trying not to rip any of the new clotting off as you cleaned the area, ripping open more gauze with your teeth and spitting the packaging out onto the ground. “You know who missed you most though, right?” he asked, nodding towards the scale as Frankie and Tom continued to toss bags onto it. 

“Tom?” you asked and she threw his head back and laughed.

“Smart ass,” he shook his head. “He worried himself sick. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“I know.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you could only imagine how Frankie felt the last few days. 

“All these years--” Will waited until you had placed the new bandage and sealed it off with medical tape and a wrap around his waist before he spoke again. “He never stopped loving you.”

“Will..”

“No, I’m serious. And if both of you are too stubborn to admit it and are going to make the rest of us point it out, then fine.” He dipped his head slightly, making you look him in the eyes. “That man is going to fucking love you until the day he dies, and I’m not telling you what you should do but,” he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “If you feel the same, I can’t think of a better time to say something than after almost dying in the fucking jungle.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, plopping down on the wall beside him and tossing the rest of the unused cloth into his pack. “Yeah, I know. You’re right.”

“I know I am.” He said flatly and you punched his arm.

“Shut up, Miller.” 

--

Many Years Ago Somewhere Back in Dallas TX, USA

You had met Frankie Morales a handful of times, always in passing and always hanging back behind the others with a beer in his hand and his ball cap pulled just low enough to hide under--a move that he had perfected over many years. He was quiet, sweet, and incredibly handsome. For some reason, unknown to you, they called him ‘Fish’, must have been a military thing, because to you it was dumb.

You brother’s military friends were loud, boisterous, and could drink themselves under the table if they truly wanted to. You had asked Santiago about Frankie and he had just grinned and nudged you in the ribs until you blushed and told him to just forget it. That night however, you sat in the lawn chair, laughing with your family and stealing glances his way. And when you saw your brother pop him two beers and nod his head towards you, you wanted to crawl under the table. Despite the embarrassment of your brother playing both matchmaker and wingman, you squared your shoulders and smiled up at him as he offered you a beer. 

Conversation with Frankie was easy, once you got him talking. He was content to let you ramble on and watch you with a small smile and those kind, brown eyes. But once you found something he was interested in, well, he came alive. One beer turned to two, and then to three, and the next thing you knew the two of you had hopped up in the bed of his truck, feet dangling over the tailgate, watching the fireflies in the tall grasses of the field that belonged to the farmers down the street. Since then, fireflies and the smell of summer time honeysuckle always reminded you of the first time you kissed Frankie Morales. 

“And how long have you wanted to do that?” you smiled as he gently bumped his forehead against yours and stole another quick peck. 

“About the better part of a year,” he chuckled. “Can I do it again?” 

“I would be upset if you didn’t.” You grinned and slid your arms around his neck as his hand slid around the curve of your waist and he laid you back in the bed of the truck. 

His lips were soft, but his kiss was as hot as the summer air. He slid his tongue over your lip and you opened your mouth to receive him with a soft sigh of content. You wanted to bury your fingers in his dark hair, so you knocked his cap off and did just that. The action seemed to spur him on as his knee came up slowly between your thighs and started to push up the hem of your dress. 

“That okay?” he asked against your lips and you nodded, pulling him more firmly against the front of your body. 

His actions made you feel bold, feel brave in a way you had never felt before. He was a brave man who had seen a lot of the world, and you wanted him to show it to you. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him again before he moved down to nose your neck. 

"Mhmm," you smiled and closed your eyes and you felt him suck a kiss against your pulse point. "That's nice."

"Yeah?" He mumbled against your jaw and pressed his knee further into the apex of your thighs. When you shamelessly started grinding against the front of his jeans he let out a groan that made you giggle. 

"Roll over," you said and he relented, moving onto his back and grabbing your hips to drag you to straddle his waist. You could feel how hard he was beneath the denim and you put your hands on his chest and rode him, letting the shape of his cock rub against your panties under your sun dress. 

"Fuck, sweetheart, come here," he sat up as you leaned down, crashing your lips together. His big hand cradling your face as his fingers threaded through the edge of your hair. His other hand disappeared under your dress and hesitated.

"Yes, Frankie, yes, go ahead. Please, touch me." You said breathlessly before he could even ask permission. At your words he dipped his hand down to cup your mound and he let his fingers part your folds.

"You're so wet. Is that because of me?" He grinned because he knew the answer to that.

"No, it's because of the other guy I was kissing in the bed of his truck." You tried to joke but gasped as he sunk one of his thick fingers inside of you.

"That so?"

"Shut up," you slapped his chest and he laughed, deep and genuine. Despite the fact that his hand was buried in your underwear, his laugh and boyish smile is what made you blush. Shit. You were in trouble.

You bucked your hips against his hand and moaned as he added a second finger and moved his thumb up to rub your clit. His hands were so fucking big, it made you wonder what was tucked carefully into those tight Levi's. You looked down at his handsome face, lit by the moonlight and the single street lamp at the end of the dirt road. It made you kiss him again, closing your eyes and really savoring the taste of his mouth. His fingers curved inside of you and sped up, pressing and rolling the pad of his thumb against your clit. 

"Right there, oh, fuck, Frankie don't stop." 

"I love it when you say my name." He nosed your cheek and the feeling of his beard against your soft skin gave you chills. 

"Frankie," you sighed again and it made him move back to devour your mouth as if he could eat the word from your lips. You bounced lightly in his lap against his hand, brushing his clothed cock with the inside of your thigh and it made him grunt. 

When you came it was a soft cry against his cheek as you clung to his shoulders and felt your pussy clench around his fingers. It was sweet, tender, and exactly what you needed. When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you and grinning. You started to speak but were cut off by another male voice.

"Hey, Fish!"

"Shit!" You whispered and Frankie wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned back in the truck bed. You stifled a laugh as you landed against his chest and he pulled his hand from under your dress. 

"Shh, shh," he chuckled and put a finger to your lips. When you realized it was one of the fingers that had just been inside of you, you sucked it in your mouth down to the knuckle. He groaned, and whispered quietly, "You're killing me, princesa." 

"Fish! I can see your boots, man, I'm not a moron." Will called from the fence line that lined the field where his truck was parked. 

"Fuck," Frankie said, leaning his head back with a sigh. "What!" He barked and you gripped the front of his t-shirt, giggling again. 

"We're heading out and wanted to know if you were com--wait a second. That better not be Pope's sister in there! Just sayin'," he laughed and you felt your cheeks get hot.

You sat up from your spot on Frankie's lap and popped over the edge of the truck. "Fuck off, Will Miller!" Frankie yanked you back down and you fell into a fit of giggles as he rolled on top of you again.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" He called and you were laughing so hard you let out a snort and Frankie looked at you in gleeful surprise that just made you laugh more. 

"I'm not getting involved in this," Will shook his head and chuckled. "Just wear a fuckin' condom, and maybe some kevlar when you tell Pope."

Your jaw dropped and you buried your face against Frankie's chest and he chuckled as well. "So much for being discreet." You both waited, silently daring each other to make a move as you listened to the sound of Will's retreating boots in the gravel road. 

He dipped back down and kissed you again, slow and deep, as you reached for his belt and started to undo the buckle. His hand covered both of yours as he stopped your movements. "Wait--"

"What?" You asked, suddenly worried that the looming idea of your older sibling finding out had ruined your chances with him. 

"Can I--uh. Can I take you to dinner?" 

You bit your lip as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks once again. "I was right."

"About what?"

"You are the sweetest man I have ever met," you smiled and leaned up to cup his face and kiss him again. 

"So, is that a yes?" He mumbled against your mouth and you nodded.

"Take off your pants, Frankie."

--

You thought about the night you first kissed Frankie and wished it could be that simple again. Both of you were just kids. Your world revolved around scraping by to pay the bills and fucking in the cab of his truck. God, you missed that truck. 

Will hopped off the divider wall as a small plane landed and the guy who he had paid to provide transport got out to shake his hand. Frankie eyed the puddle jumper with disdain and threw his hand out towards it. 

"The fuck are we gonna do with that thing?" He asked, looking at Tom in question as you came to stand behind him. The whirring of a chopper drew their eyes to the lush tree covered mountain as their real ride crested the landscape and Frankie gave a sigh of relief. "Now, we're talkin'."

The wind from the blades whipped the tall grasses and anything not secured blew freely. Your hair covered your face for a moment and you hastily dug a hair tie from your back pocket and secured the strands. Frankie and Tom set to getting the large, canvas drop net secured to the bottom of the aircraft but you knew by the tension in his shoulders there was already a problem.

"This won't all fit in the net!" Frankie yelled, stopping Tom from putting more bags in. "If you want more it needs to go in the body!" 

"It'll fit!" Tom said back and Frankie shook his head.

"If that scale is even close to being correct we have six thousand pounds here!" Frankie said as the rest of the men approached them both to find out what was going on. "That's 250 million dollars!"

"We stole 250 million dollars?!" Benny said with a giant smile on his face. "I'm definitely getting that fucking Ferrari!" He grabbed a bag and headed for the chopper. 

"That's not the point--fuck," Frankie looked at Pope, desperate for anyone who would listen. "If that scale is right, we're gonna have a weight issue!"

"What's the issue? This helo can carry 9,000 pounds!" Tom said, gesturing to the helicopter and you saw the vein jump in Frankie's neck. They weren't fucking listening.

"That's 9,000 pounds at 2,000 feet...we have to fly over the fucking Andes, man!" Frankie literally stomped in place and threw his arm out towards the mountains.

"Are we really going to leave 200 million dollars on the fucking runway?!" Tom asked and you couldn't take it anymore.

"That's better than being dead, Tom!" You said, taking a step forward.

"You don't get a vote," he snapped, pointing a finger at you and Frankie clenched his fist and moved you behind his body.

"Enough!" Will said, putting his hands out and looking between the two men. "We need to decide now. What are we gonna do?"

Frankie let out a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his hat and down to the back of his neck. You watched as his forearm flexed, the vein in his neck was back, popping out with his rising frustrations. He finally shook his head and held up his hands in defense. "Okay. Okay. She'll make it. Let's go!"

"Frankie," you touched his arm but before you could say anything Tom gestured to the two people leaning against the yellow car. 

"What about them?" He jerked his thumb back indicating Pope's informant and her brother. "We're already overweight as it is!"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me-" you started but your brother was already a step ahead of you. 

"We promised them a ride over the border into Peru! She's the reason I got my sister back! Now, I'm going to help her get out of this fucking country with her brother--like I promised! No exceptions!" Pope waved his arm telling them to follow him into the helicopter. 

Frankie put his hand on your lower back and gave your hips a boost to get you inside the craft. He helped you sit down and pulled the straps of the harness connected to the wall over each of your shoulders as he crouched in front of you. His face was scrunched in thought but you knew it wasn't about the complexity of the safety belt, he could do that with his eyes closed. No, you knew what it was about.

"We're not going to make it are we?" You asked flatly and he looked up at you.

"We will. Because I said so." He snapped the buckle shut and jerked on the strap by your breast making sure it was secure.

"Frankie, you're the best pilot I've ever met. If you say it's too much weight, then it's too much weight." 

"Yeah, well, Tom's the one in charge."

"Tom can kiss my fucking ass," you snapped and his lips tilted up slightly in a grin. 

"There's my girl." He used his knuckle to give the underside of your chin a gentle kip. 

You put your hand on his chest and took hold of the fabrics of his button up and pulled him to you for a heated kiss. It was much more than the one at the mansion had been. You opened yourself to him and he took the hint and shoved his tongue in your mouth like you wanted. The slight twinge of pain you felt from your busted lip was worth the sound that came from the back of his throat. It was rough, it was wet, and it was two years overdue. When you pulled back you saw the spark of confidence back in his eyes that you had hoped to put there.

Kissing Frankie always made you feel small, but not in a bad way, like you were protected, like you were safe. With his arms boxing you in and his weight pressing gently against you, kissing Frankie felt like being home. And he was as close to home as you were going to get this deep in the jungle.

"Get us out of here, Mav," you said, and he chuckled at the nickname he had not heard in a very long time.

"You got it, Goose." 

He gave you one last kiss on the forehead before finally tearing himself away from you and heading up to the cockpit where he was needed. Since he had found you in Lorea's mansion, this was the most physical distance that had been between you and Frankie and you didn't like it at all. Pair that with the knowledge that despite his protests and being the only one in the group with his fucking pilot's license, they had ignored his concerns about the weight--yeah, your heart was starting to beat pretty hard. You took a deep breath and laid your head back against the metal wall. 

You looked up as Pope helped the informant sit next to you. He buckled her in the same way Frankie had done you and the action made you smile.

"You okay?" Pope called over the noise of the chopper and touched your arm.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you nodded, squeezing his hand and watching him go to the front to check on Frankie as the Miller brothers slammed the side doors shut and took their seats. You glanced to the woman at your left and suddenly was at a loss for words. How did you even begin to thank her for everything she had done? For the risks she had taken? She may have gotten something out of it but it still didn't change the fact that you were alive because of her.

"He's your brother?" She said, nodding to Pope's retreating form.

"Yeah," you nodded.

"He is a good man. I need you to know that." She said, her voice cracking a bit and it made your chest tight. 

"I know." You put your hand over hers and gripped it, simply because it seemed like the right thing to do. "Thank you." The two of you leaned back as the helicopter started to lift in the air and rock back and forth gently.

What else was there to say?

--

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