#don’t sleep on vinaigrettes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years ago

Text

Hucow!AU Story, Part 2 (N/s/f/w)

Things get steamy in this part; I stayed up all night finishing this. Again, credit belongs to @dark-side-blog2 for creating the Hucow!au, and giving me the idea for this story in the first place.

All characters aged up to be 18 or older!!!

WARNINGS: not sfw, yandere, noncon, dubcon, lactation, ruts/heat, manipulation, Bruno being very manipulative and naughty lol. Let me know if any of you are interested in a part 3, I might be persuaded into continuing this story~

EDIT: omg i’m an idiot i forgot to post the actual fic sorry lol

While Bruno got Narancia situated in bed, Mista helped you in the kitchen as usual.

“I was thinking we’d have some fresh garden salad with our stew tonight, how does that sound y/n?” Mista called out from the fridge he was rummaging through.

“Sounds good to me!” You replied, dicing the ingredients for the stew and tossing them into the pot. This was a daily routine between you and Mista nowadays. While you would fix breakfast and lunch, he would usually help you make a hearty dinner for all of you. It was not only tasty, but healthy, utilizing the freshest ingredients from your farm. Bruno seemed to be something of a farmer himself, actually, as he cultivated a few unusual crops you’d never heard of before, but nonetheless delicious.

For example, Mista and Bruno had introduced you to a hucow staple. It was called mulgeo salad, made primarily of edible flowers that were a pretty lavender blue. They made sure you had some with your dinner every night, as apparently it has many health benefits for female hucows, and therefore must be good for human women as well. You couldn’t really complain, even if it did have a funny aftertaste, as you did notice feeling healthier after changing your diet.

“Here, I tried a new dressing this time, try some!” Mista prodded you with a fork full of some mulgeo salad and what looked like a vinaigrette. You sighed and opened your mouth, and Mista happily fed you his creation.

“Not Bad,” you told him, “maybe a squeeze of lemon juice?” You suggested, mulling over the taste in your mouth. Mista tried some of the sauce himself, and nodded, agreeing with you. “Good thinking, that’ll help with the aftertaste.”

Meanwhile, Narancia was tossing in your guest bed, fussing with Bruno who was trying to be patient with the younger bull.

“Brunooo, I don’t want to be in bed, I want to see y/n! You know she’s the only one who can really help me anyways!” Narancia whined, as Bruno gently but firmly pushed him back onto the bed.

“What I know is that you need to preserve your strength, and let y/n get ready for tonight. You want your first time to be special, don’t you?” Bruno countered, handing Narancia a glass of water and some medication.

It’s true, Narancia was feverish, and he wasn’t feeling his best, there was a perfectly good reason, and it had nothing to do with being sick. But Bruno had told Narancia that humans don’t go through what hucows go through, at least not as intensely. So Bruno had asked Narancia to be patient with y/n, and to help her into the herd. Narancia didn’t understand it all, but he trusted Bruno, and he loves y/n, so he takes his medicine and tries to be patient.

But he can’t wait forever.

~~~~~~~

Dinner was good but uneventful, you carried a tray of food up to Narancia who ate it like a man starved and thanked you. After dinner, you helped the boys get situated into your guest bedroom, Bruno taking a chair and the rest sleeping on the floor, with all the pillows and blankets you could find. The bulls each thanked you, and conked out surprisingly easily. Well, you guess old blankets and pillows were still more comfortable than grassy fields and dirt.

You wished them all a goodnight, and made your way to your bedroom.

Ever since dinner, your body’s felt heavy and warm- you hoped you hadn’t caught Narancia’s fever. You tossed and turned in bed trying to fall asleep, but despite your body being so tired, you felt too… hot. Your cheeks burned,’Really, y/n? Now? The bulls are in the room across from yours…’but you just couldn’t sleep.

You turned over to your bedside alarm clock-11:30 pm-it had been a few hours since the boys had all gone to bed, and they had looked exhausted, too. Surely, they wouldn’t wake up so easily? After another deathly silent minute, searching for any possible sign the bulls were awake or could hear you, you made up your mind and threw off your covers. Pausing again and hearing nothing, you slowly pulled off your panties, shocked at how wet they were. What’s wrong with your body, why were you reacting like this? What would the others think if they saw you like this? Your mind protested, but your fingers had other ideas.

You pulled your night dress off, fondling your breasts and twisting your nipples. They had been so sore recently, and if you didn’t know better you would swear they felt larger than normal. Feeling a sudden wetness, you gasped. Why….

“It hurts”

Like a shot in the dark, Narancia’s voice rang out and pulled you out of your stupor. You sat up, trying to cover yourself up. “N-narancia, what-?!”

“It hurts, y/n; it hurts and I can’t wait anymore!” Narancia repeated, pleading for something but didn’t know what. He stumbled into your room, naked and,well-

He crawled onto your bed, climbing on top of you and grinding into your hips. Yes, just like you, he was incredibly aroused.

“N-naranica, please! Get a hold of yourself!” You pleaded with the bull, trying to pry him off of you. It was hard to get a grip on him, his skin was sweaty and he leaned into your touch instead of fighting it. Up close, you got a better look at Narancia’s face, and you could tell something was off with the bull. His eyes were unfocused, his face flushed red, and he couldn’t stop moaning into you. At first, you had thought it was his fever, but now, it seemed like his “illness” was something much more...animalistic.

“Oh, Narancia, you went and spoiled the surprise. You must have given y/n quite the fright.” Bruno chided. As if out of thin air, possibly during your struggle with Narancia, Bruno appeared, looming over the two of you with an eerie smile.

“Bruno, help me! Narancia, he, he-” You started, panicking while trying to keep a modicum of dignity.

“Why would I do that, bella? You seem to want this just as much as he does.” He replied, unwavered. You looked at him incredulously, and he reached under Narancia to pull your legs apart. With humiliating ease, he sunk a finger into you, and white hot pleasure rocked your core. You moaned, surprised and aroused, and earned a whine just as loud from Narancia, still thrusting into your hips.

“Bruno, stop, please!” You begged, trying to break away from Narancia and now Bruno.

“It’s perfectly natural, Bella, don’t be afraid. You’ve never met any other hucows besides us, have you?” Bruno pulled his finger out, and with the same hand, stroked your face, moving hair out of your eyes. Your eyes followed his hands, watering, and said, “W-...no?”

Bruno sat down on the bed, putting a hand on Narancia’s back that stopped him immediately, to your relief.

“For Hucows, when we reach adulthood, we start to have regular ruts, or in a heifer’s case, heats. Like many animals, we have a monthly cycle of intense carnal desires--our body's way of saying we’re at our most fertile. And it looks like your body has synched with Narancia.” Bruno explained, stroking your head, watching your eyes widen in shock,fear.

“This is ridiculous, I'm not a Hucow, I'm not like you!” You argued, pushing his hand away. This was becoming too much, these were not the bulls who’d wormed their way into your heart. Bruno had the gall to laugh, and your stomach sank with dread. In a flash, he grabbed your cheeks and cooed, “Really, y/n, there’s a difference in being coy and being oblivious. I mean look at you, haven’t you noticed your body changing? You’re soaking wet without being touched, your bodies hot to the touch, for god’s sake, you’re leaning into my hands” And to your absolute horror, as he pulled away his hand, your head followed. He was right.

Bruno grabbed your breasts, and you felt the familiar wetness from before, “Not only that, but haven’t you noticed your breasts? You’re producing milk.” As if by divine fate, the clouds decided to move out of the way of the moon, shining a light onto your breasts, and sure enough, you could see rivulets of milk leaking from your nipples. Tears fell from your eyes-shocked, confused, betrayed not just by your friends but your own body. Were you going crazy?

“Shhhhh, shhh It’s okay amore, it’s okay. You’re bodies just changing, it happens to every heifer your age. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, in fact it’s beautiful.” Bruno reassured you, stroking your breasts fondly, “Your body just wants to be bred, to be filled with our calves, isn’t that wonderful? Don’t worry, we’ll be good fathers, and you’ll be a wonderful mother!” Bruno’s breathing growing heavier, his eyes staring you down with a deranged intensity.

Narancia, not wanting to be left out, latched himself to one of your breasts, “I’ll be gentle, y/n, I promise! I know your heat must be painful, with no one to help you out. My ruts have been so painful too, without you. But that’s over now, yeah? We can finally be a proper herd, and raise lots of cute calves together.” He mumbled into your chest, as if stabbing you with his words directly into your heart.

“Poor bambina, I know you’re so confused, and scared- I remember my first rut. The other bulls and I, we won’t let you go through that same pain. We’ll take care of you, y/n, that’s what herds do.” Bruno rested his cheek on your head, planting the softest kiss to your forehead. You didn’t even have the strength to resist him.

At this point, you weren’t even surprised when you saw Abbachio, Fugo, and Mista come into your room.

“Just relax y/n; we’ll take care of you and Narancia. This time it’s you two in heat, but soon enough we’ll all sync up, that’s what happens normally in herds. Leave this to us” Bruno cooed to you, licking up tears you didn’t realize were falling.

“...Please take care of me…” You gave up, closing your eyes.

~~~~~~~

The bulls had piled all the pillows and blankets they could gather onto your bedroom floor, so there was enough room for all of them to gather by your side. Narancia curled into your side, Bruno propping you up against his back, Abbacchio standing by the door( as if guarding it from being opened) , Mista sitting front row watching, and fugo awkwardly kneeling off to the side as if too embarrassed to look directly at you.

“Narancia, please hold her legs open, we need to prepare her before she can take us.” Bruno instructed, as if he was giving orders on farming or something else as mundane. Narancia was quick to follow, and spread your legs open despite your embarrassment.

You buried your face into Bruno’s chest.

“No Bella, don’t be shy. We love this part of you, we want to see you lost in pleasure,” Bruno reassured you, turning your head back to the other bulls. Narancia and the others stared at you with feverish intensity, Narancia groaned at the audible sound your cunt made as he parted your folds.

“Y/n, you’re so wet, have you been like this all day? Is it because of me?” Narancia asked, unable to look away. His fingers traced your lips delicately, as if he were afraid to break you, and gathered your slick onto his index finger.

“Don’t just gawk, idiot, make her feel good!” Mista chided, palming himself. At this point, all of you were naked, and you saw for the first time how the bulls...measured up. They had been naked when you had first met them, sure, but you hadn’t looked closely, and they hadn’t been quite as, well, excited. They were large, and animalistic not just in size but shape. Needless to say, you would need a lot of preparation if you were to take any of their cocks.

Just as impatient as Mista, Narancia plunged two fingers into your pussy, and you couldn’t contain the squeal you let out. It was sudden, and not an experienced hand, but his fingers felt like such a huge relief, you were starting to believe Bruno and wondering if you really were in heat.

“Jesus Christ y/n, I can feel you clenching on my hands! What should I do, Bruno? What’ll make her feel good?” Narancia gasped, he seemed to have trouble controlling his hands and body.

“Remember what I showed you before, and how we got you ready when you helped us with our heats?” Bruno reminded Narancia, leaving you to wonder what they’d done in the past before you.

Narancia’s Fingers Curled and massaged the front walls of your pussy, searching for your special spot. Based on the noises you were making, he was doing a good job of finding it. Bruno reached one of the hands he had wrapped around your waist down to your pussy, and lightly rubbed circles into your clit. You moaned again, bucking up into their hands. You were beyond losing control, you had lost it as well as any other thoughts of resisting. Your body was in ecstasy, Narancia and Bruno double teaming you was too much.

Suddenly, you felt another, unfamiliar hand toy with your breasts. You opened your eyes you hadn’t realized were closed, and saw Mista leaning over you, massaging you. As he squeezed them, some more milk squeezed out of your tender breasts; as mortifying as it was, it also gave you a small sense of relief? You weren’t sure whether it was arousal or merely a relief of your breast’s fullness, it felt much better than normally when you played with yourself.

“Holy shit, you really must be a heifer, your tits are full of milk!” Mista exclaimed, “Hey y’n, you wouldn’t mind if i had a drink would you? I'm awfully thirsty~” He snickered, latching his mouth onto one of your breasts.

You cried out wantonly, getting finger fucked and your tits sucked at the same time was bringing you close to the edge.

“P-please, I can’t!” You begged, not sure what you were begging for.

“Awww, begging for us? Our sweet little bambina, you don’t know how long I've been waiting for this day,” sighed Bruno, playing with your bud more and more intensely. “Narancia, why don't you try using your mouth, I think she’d like that. She’s so close.” Bruno suggested to the smaller bull, who nodded eagerly and lowered his face into your crotch.

You couldn't help yourself, you cried out and tried to close your legs as you felt Narancia nuzzle into you. “Wait, Narancia, it’s too much!”

“It’s okay, y/n, I’m gonna make you feel good, I promise!” Narancia murmbled, cheeks squeezed between your thighs- it’d be hilarious in any other situation. Narancia pried your legs open again, peppering them with kisses. Tentatively, he licked a stripe vertically up your pussy before sucking on your clit, moving Bruno’s hand away. He wrapped his tongue around your clit and massaged it, while you bucked and writhed underneath. You were begging incoherently, not sure what or who for, but the boys seemed to understand. Narancia slipped his wet fingers back into your pussy and kitten licked your bud; Mista played with your breasts in each hand while he sucked milk from you like it was a delicacy. Bruno turned your head to look at him-even upside down you could tell from his blissed out face he was enjoying himself as much as you were.

“Are you gonna come, Tesoro? Your expression is so indecent, you must be close.” Bruno teased you, sticking his fingers into your mouth before you could answer. But he was right, you were close. Narancia and Mista’s mouths were full, but their faces were as indecent as yours must have been, as they doubled down on your efforts. Your insides were quivering, your thighs wrapped around Narancia’s head again to pull him closer. Close, you were so close…

“Come for us, y/n, for the first of many times tonight,” Bruno all but commanded, so you complied. A wave of pleasure rolled over you, and Bruno’s fingers couldn’t contain your cries. Narancia ate you through it, his own moans vibrating onto your overstimulated pussy, and didn;t pull away until you pushed him with your hands. Mista laughed into your breasts, but the look in his eyes was hungry, preditorial.

“That was so fuckin’ hot, y/n, you moan like a porn star!” He joked, popping off of your abused nipples.

Narancia pulled away too, with wet eyes, “Y/n,that was wonderful, I'm glad I could make you come, but please…” He tugged one of your hands onto his hard throbbing cock. It twitched in your hands; you could tell he’d been restraining himself. You slowly, against your better judgement, stroked the up his shaft, tracing a pulsing vein along the underside. Narancia cried in relief, bucking into your hand grinning wildly.

“So goooood, you’re hand’s so soft, way softer than mine. It's so small…” Moaned Narancia, giggling as he held your hand in his own larger one to show you how to properly touch him.

“Y/n, I think it’s time now, don’t you?” Bruno asked you, loud enough for Narancia to hear. “Narancia made you feel so good just now, and he’s been so patient for you. Won’t you help him feel good too?”

You were nervous, to be honest-you’d never been with anyone,or even used a toy their size. And Narancia was the smallest of the group. But your orgasm hadn’t cleared your mind at all-if anything you were even more horny. If you had been in a better state of mind, maybe you could have realized how they were manipulating you and said no. But…

You pulled Narancia up to your face and kissed him for the first time that night. Narancia early reciprocated, pulling you as close to him as possible. He took it as an invitation to grab his dick in one hand, slobber it up with remnants of his spit and our cum, and sink his cock inside of your wet hot pussy.

You both simultaneously cried out but for different reasons as the head entered you, Narancia’s tip stretching you to your limits. Narancia tried to go further in, but sensing your discomfort, Bruno grabbed Narancia’s hips and held them from moving any further. Narancia cursed, trying to fight out of Bruno’s hold, clearly not in his right mind. But Bruno Wouldn’t budge.

“Wait Narancia, or you’ll hurt her.” Bruno commanded, not backing down. For once this night, you were thankful for Bruno’s involvement.

Reluctantly, Narancia slowly pushed further and further inside of you, tears streaming down his face and moaning like, well, like he was in heat.

“It’s heaven...y/n is like heaven inside!” Narancia cried, a blissful smile on his face. You wished you could say the same as you were stretched to your limits, nails digging into Narancia’s arms.

“It’s too big! Narancia, you're too big for me!” You pleaded, trying to relax your muscles and allow yourself to be stretched.

“Fuck yeah I am! My big cock’s doing this to you, right? I’ve made you come from feeling so good, right?? I’m gonna make you come lots more, so many more times y/n! I’m gonna make you come on my dick and get pregnant! Take it, take it y/n!” Narancia snarled, finally starting to thrust properly.

He was so happy his rut came first, that he was able to fuck you before the others and stake his claim early. Sure, having to wait sucked, but this was definitely worth it. Since Narancia’s libido could no longer be contained, Bruno decided the next best thing would be to help you enjoy yourself more. He bit the shell of your ear, massaging your clit between his fingers.

“What a good girl you are for us, Bambina, letting Narancia fuck your little pussy with his big bull cock. I bet you've never been so full in your life, huh? We’re gonna keep you nice and stuffed too, all of us will. I can’t wait to see how even more beautiful you’ll look, satisfied by all of our dicks. We’re gonna make you feel so good, bambina, you’ll go crazy~” Bruno moaned into your ear.

It alarmed and aroused you at the same time, which didn’t go unnoticed by Narancia.

He picked up the pace, and you started to move with him, getting into the feeling. Against your better judgement, you looked up to see what the others were doing while you were getting railed by Narancia.

Abbachio was leaning against the doorframe, stroking his cock as he watched your breasts bounce with each thrust. When he saw you were looking at him, he smirked but said nothing. His eyes were intense, staring at you unwaveringly. The only way you could tell he was affected at all (aside from jerking off) was a light blush that trailed from his cheeks down to his chest, breathing heavily.

Fugo looked like he was trying to hide the fact he was so turned on, face flushed and glancing back and forth from you to the floor. He gingerly palmed himself in between his legs, trying to cover it up from you. His tail was swishing in anticipation, and he bit his lip to keep himself from making any noises. Mista, on the other hand, was manspreading on the floor, eagerly watching and wolf whistling at the show. Clearly, he wasn’t bothered by the fact that you were getting the daylights fucked out of you by Narancia, and happy to give you a look at himself masterbaiting.

“Like what ya see, sweetcheeks? I’d be happy to let you touch it too~” He flirted, winking at you.

“Wait your turn.” Bruno told him, before Narancia or you had the chance to react.

The pleasure in your was building up again, slowly but surely, as Narancia’s prick massaged your aching walls. Narancia was getting more and more desperate as well.

“Fuck, y/n, i don’t know how much longer I can last, you feel too good! Are you close? Please say you’re close!” Narancia begged, just as he hit your g-spot directly. You cried out loudly and clenched down, unable to help yourself, to the bull’s joy.

“Oooh, I felt that y/n, you like it when I hit ‘here’ right?” He teased, fucking you harder and focusing on your sweet spot. You nodded, unable to form the right words, but Narancia understood regardless. You clung to him now, it seemed like the two of you were the only ones in the room, as you cried out from each thrust inside of you and on your clit. You wouldn’t be long now, and Narancia was right behind you.

“Y/n, I love you. I love you so much, so fucking much it hurts. I’m about to come in the girl I love so much and make her pregnant, fuck, I can’t wait! Please take it-take it take it take it!!!” Narancia felt too good inside of you to hold on anymore, he’d been so good for you. He came and true to his word, filled you to the brim with his hot sticky cum. It felt too good to hold out yourself, and you came on his cock with a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist. He shivers, and has enough in him to gush just a little more into your abused hole.

“Thank you so much, y/n...that was so wonderful,”Narancia mumbled into your cheek, kissing you gently. He collapsed onto you, and you couldn’t help but pat his head sympathetically-that was quite the workout, after all. Narancia cuddled into you, peppering you with kisses he was too shy to give you before.

You were too tired to resist their affections any more, too tired to move, too tired period. You were ready to finally fall to sleep, when you heard Bruno’s voice call out to you.

“That was wonderful to watch, y/n. I’m very happy you’ve finally accepted us. But, don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” You cracked an eye open, reality settling in. Standing over you were the other bulls, all hard and looking very impatient.

“Hey, you’re not gonna leave us hanging, are you bella?”Mista teased you.

“You’re crazy if you think we’re gonna let you go after just one round,” Abbacchio replied deadpan.

“It’s just not Narancia, we, I need you too y/n!” Fugo ordered (pleaded with) you.

Bruno stroked your hair again, licking away new tears from your cheeks.

“We’re famiglia, y/n, we always do things together. You wouldn’t want us to feel left out, would you?” Bruno asked you. You could feel his desire poking into your back.

“Hey, I'm not done yet! Y/n, don’t pass out on me yet!” Narancia complained, weakly thrusting into you again. You moaned, unable to form any protest.

This was going to be a long night.

#not sfw #n/s/f/w #sluttbuttsstuff #hucow!au #yandere #yandere!bruno #bruno #abbacchio #fugo #mista #narancia #reader #readerxnarancia #readerxbruno #i don't think i can really tag shipping for the others #yet #mwahahaha #fic

219 notes · View notes

nancypullen · 2 years ago

Text

Sooo...

I didn’t post on November 1st because I was felled with what I thought was a weird stomach bug. Back pain woke me on Tuesday followed by non-stop vomiting (you’re welcome for the visual). I’d attributed the back pain to intestinal stuff since they wrap around back there. On Nov 2nd I rallied a bit thanks to anti-nausea meds and Tylenol, and felt good enough to post about our wonderful Halloween. No surprise to people smarter than me, things didn’t get better. By lunchtime Thursday I was in the ER getting a CT scan and all that. Turns out that I have a very large kidney stone and only surgery can get it out. In the ER they said it was 10mm which really didn’t mean anything to me until I saw this pic.

I met with a urologist today who is in the kidney stone business and he said according to his measurements it’s 12mm. Either way, it’s not getting out on its own. On the way to the ER I told Mickey that I hoped I was one of those women who get a scan and discover they have a 20 pound tumor or cyst. No such luck. Just a little rock. I couldn’t have been more shocked to hear the news and asked what on Earth caused it. That’s when I was educated about oxalates. In a nutshell: Oxalic acid is an organic compound found in many plants, including leafy greens, vegetables, fruits, cocoa, nuts, and seeds. In plants, it’s usually bound to minerals, forming oxalate. The terms “oxalic acid” and “oxalate” are used interchangeably in nutrition science .Your body can produce oxalate on its own or obtain it from food. Vitamin C can also be converted into oxalate when it’s metabolized. Once consumed, oxalate can bind to minerals to form compounds, including calcium oxalate and iron oxalate. This mostly occurs in the colon, but can also take place in the kidneys and other parts of the urinary tract .In most people, these compounds are then eliminated in the stool or urine. However, in sensitive individuals, high oxalate diets have been linked to an increased risk of kidney stones and other health problems. Normally, calcium and small amounts of oxalate are present in the urinary tract at the same time, but they remain dissolved and cause no problems.However, sometimes they bind to form crystals. In some people, these crystals can lead to the formation of stones, especially when oxalate is high and urine volume is low. Small stones often don’t cause any problems, but large stones can cause severe pain, nausea, and blood in the urine as they move through the urinary tract. Although there are other types of kidney stones, about 80% are made up of calcium oxalate .For this reason, people who have had one episode of kidney stones may be advised to minimize their consumption of foods high in oxalate Not the only cause of kidney stones, but the most common cause. Once they get mine and analyze it they’ll be able to tell me (hopefully) why it formed and what I can do to avoid a repeat performance. The paperwork that they gave me to take home had a chart of high oxalate and low oxalate foods.

I love spinach. Know what I like on my spinach salad? Almonds and a raspberry vinaigrette. I love taters, both sweet and not, and eggplant is also a favorite. But imagine the deep sorrow I felt when spying chocolate on that list. Just kill me. Luckily I can have all the bok choy I want.

I’m trying not to jump the gun, maybe they’ll come back and tell me that mine is a result of not enough of something - “We’ll have to ask you to double up on your popcorn consumption.” Ever the optimist. Anyway, the dr’s office will call Monday to schedule my surgery and there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t do this sort of stuff well, I default to denial and I’m fine, and soldier on. I’d rather try a hundred folk remedies before visiting a doctor or, heaven forbid, having a procedure of any type. If I thought wrapping my abdomen in linen soaked in hog fat and sleeping with a penny under my pillow during a full moon would work, I’d try it. Mickey insisted that I go, and I guess I’m glad he did. Honestly, my prominent emotion right now is gratitude that this didn’t happen while we were in Chincoteague and that I was able to spend Halloween with my favorite girl. The universe gave me a pass until November 1st so I could enjoy my favorite month. Can’t beat that. So that’s what’s up here on our patch. I feel like I’ve been sick or broken since we moved and that’s just not me. I’m buoyant and happy and healthy - at least I used to be! I’m over it, I’m done. Let’s get through the rest of this year and wipe the slate clean. FRESH START. And now, because I haven’t kept a meal in my stomach since Halloween but have managed to hold on to four crackers today (victory!), I’m going to attempt some chicken soup. Sounds like a feast right now. I’ll keep you posted, crossing my fingers that all the news is good from now on. Stay safe, stay well, mind your oxalates.

Nancy

6 notes · View notes

saintchrollo · 3 years ago

Text

ten million jenny: summer, day 3

summer is balmy and windy in york new. you’re in love, you’re in love, you’re in love.

calendar | end of spring | onto summer

Perhaps the best part of your job was the free summers. And the best part of Kuroro’s apartment was his balcony. You kneel out of the hot tub, overlooking the city with a cigarette in one hand, drinking in the smoke and the sun. Kuroro sits beside you, arm wrapped around your thigh and cheek resting on your ass.

In all honesty, you think he might be sleeping, despite his prior claim that he was ‘waiting for a phone call, and wanted to spend time with you.’ His work phone was sitting on the table just out of the tub’s reach.

You regard it with disdain as it begins to ring and Kuroro’s head immediately shoots up. The factory set ringtone is nails on a chalkboard.

“I’ll be right back,” Kuroro says, placing a kiss to your shoulder before rising out of the tub, haphazardly drying off, before answering the phone. He tracks water inside, and firmly closes the balcony door shut behind him and his mess.

Be right back he was not.

Bored from the lack of attention in the subsequent few minutes, you end up drying off and heading back inside. As you head to get dry clothes, you hear Kuroro’s voice, muffled, leaking out of his office while you pass it. It brings pause to your movements, as you slow in front of his office. You’ve never heard Kuroro yell before, not in this sense of it.

His anger is palpable, enough to make your head spin a little bit. You carry on towards your bedroom, thankful it wasn’t you on the receiving end of that call.

Standing before the open refrigerator in your dry clothes, you frown at its emptiness. The two of you would need to go to the store soon… Aside from the pickles and condiments, there was just barely enough to make a salad— Spinach that was on its last day, one tomato, a few slices of cucumber that didn’t make it into the water pitcher, and some balsamic vinaigrette that you’re pretty sure has lived in this apartment longer than you have.

Kuroro brings his anger with him into the kitchen. You look up from your salad, eyes tracking Kuroro as he enters. He stops, mid stalk, upon seeing you. His gaze softens, just slightly.

“Hi, angel,” You say, raising both of your eyebrows. “Forgot I lived here?”

Instead of responding verbally, Kuroro simply shakes his head and settles for silence and stillness.

“Uh,” You glance down at your food before offering a bite to Kuroro. “Want some?”

Kuroro hesitates briefly before shaking his head once more.

“You sounded pretty angry earlier,” You note. Kuroro doesn’t move. “Want me to make you some tea?”

You don’t wait for Kuroro’s response, already getting up to boil water. His anger slowly dwindles as he sits down in your seat, picking up your fork and half heartedly eating a piece of lettuce.

While the kettle heats, you stand against the counter, facing Kuroro. His face had turned from angry to unreadable during those brief moments your back had been turned.

Kuroro looks up to meet your gaze, and slowly shuts his eyes. “You have some sort of spell on me, I swear, Ophelia.”

You hum. “And if I did?”

He opens one of his eyes, unable to help himself. His heart feels too vulnerable in your presence, so he shuts his eye again. “It’s very powerful.”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit at that, straightening up and placing a kiss to the soft of his cheek bone. Without asking, you stand behind him and rest your hands on his shoulders, slowly kneading your thumbs into the tense muscle. Kuroro’s entire body relaxes under your touch. He leans back, resting his head on your stomach.

“I love you, baby,” You say, leaning down to press a kiss to Kuroro’s nose.

“Would you still love me if I wasn’t as wealthy?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s rare that Kuroro speaks about money with you. Chrollo can’t bear to open his eyes to see your reaction.

“Of course.” Chrollo opens his eyes to your puzzled expression. “Why?”

What a loaded question, Chrollo thinks. Instead, he takes a deep breath and does what he does best. Deflects. “You’re materialistic.”

You suck your teeth and move away from Kuroro, shaking your head. The kettle begins to whistle, so you pull it off and begin to steep the tea bag.

“Is money something we need to talk about?” You ask while setting the mug down before Kuroro.

Chrollo shakes his head and offers a kiss as his thank you for the tea.

“Sit with me,” Chrollo whispers against your lips. His mood had calmed, sadness quenching his anger again. You take the stool next to him, sitting quietly and watching as Kuroro plays with his tea bag. His jaw clicks, before releasing.

A few moments pass in silence, before Kuroro interrupts it.

“I’m mad at myself.” His voice is quiet, barely there. You lean forwards, actively listening. “I did something irrational with work a very long time ago and it’s haunted me ever since. Everytime I try to fix that mistake three more happen.”

It tugs at your heartstrings, to see Kuroro so vulnerable. You swallow heavily, unsure what to do exactly. Comforting others has never quite been either of your strong suits.

“I want to talk about it with you, but I can’t.”

This you know. His work is secretive, confidential. You place a hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb against his tense muscle gently. “I know, angel. You don’t need to make excuses.”

“I’m just not used to caring about someone else so much. It doesn’t feel… Right.”

It stings. “What does feel right, then?”

All Chrollo can do is shrug. He sips his tea. Violence.

You sigh. “You know, when we first st—”

“I know you have good intentions, but can we please sit here in silence.” Kuroro’s words are sharp and shut you up immediately. Your mouth snaps shut.

Part of you wants to scream and start an argument. He can’t just barge into the kitchen and steal your seat and the mood like this. The other part of you is filled with love and forgiveness.

So you sit in silence.

Kuroro finishes his tea.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Kuroro apologizes.

“I didn’t take it personally.”

A few bouts more of silence.

“I imagine it must be hard to have such a stressful job you can’t talk about,” You elaborate.

Kuroro nods. “It is.”

The pungent silence sits between you, until Kuroro inhales sharply, deeply. He rolls his shoulders back and runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back and out of his face. He has bags under his eyes.

“Baby… Is this about Kakin?” You venture.

Kuroro looks like he has something smart to say. Instead, he shakes his head and rises. His gaze loses the fog, finding his normal, charming sheen instead.

“It is nothing you need to be worrying about, it will be nice to get out of the city this weekend. Want to play cards?”

You aren’t convinced, but you respect Kuroro enough to not push it. Sometimes a distraction is needed, and there wasn’t anything wrong with that. You lace your fingers with his, and stand on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Sure, angel.”

#chrollo x reader #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tmj

29 notes · View notes

pretendingboyfriends · 4 years ago

Text

Warnings: smut babayyyy

Word count: 2.7k+

Summary: A quiet evening in Italy with Harry.

On an Evening in Roma - Dean Martin

The coral hue of the setting sun seeps through the open doorway leading to the terrace, casting a similarly colored shadow onto the tile floor as the two of you move around the kitchen. A warm breeze drifts through the room causing the curtains framing the door to flutter daintily and the scent of the homemade bread to waft throughout the house, setting a soft and romantic mood for the evening.

You leisurely pour a second glass of wine for Harry and yourself before you begin crafting your meal, the warm buzz of impending intoxication lulling the both of you peacefully along with the soft jazz you have playing quietly in the background. You both have aprons tied around your waists to prevent your clothes from being splattered with flour or wine, aware of your tendencies for clumsiness.

“Can you crack the eggs into a bowl for me, darling?” You request, nudging the small carton of eggs towards Harry as you scoop the right amount of flour from the bag and onto the clean counter.

“Mhm,” He hums happily, “How many?”

“Two is fine.” You smile, shaping the flour into a decently large pile before pressing your fingers into the middle to make a well for the eggs and sprinkling a little bit of salt into it.

Harry quickly cracks the two eggs into a small bowl and sets the bowl on the counter besides you. “Okay, now what?”

“Now, we pour the eggs into the middle of the well I’ve created in the flour, like this,” You start, reaching for the bowl of eggs as Harry watches intently, pouring them carefully into the well. “And then we knead it with our hands, like this.” You finish, burying your fingers into the flour, kneading slowly and carefully as Harry rolls up the sleeves of his button up.

“Can I just-” He mutters, walking behind you slowly and wrapping his arms around you, placing his hands over yours as he rests his chin on your shoulder to watch what he’s doing. “That’s better.”

You snicker girlishly at him, shaking your head as you continue to knead with his hands over yours. “You’re an absolute idiot.”

“Mmm, yeah, but you love me.” He hums through a chuckle, nudging his hips against you playfully.

The two of you knead the flour and egg mixture into a malleable dough, making sure to add flour when needed. Harry’s playful attempts to flick flour into your face has a smile glued to both of your faces as you giggle and scold him for getting into your hair, though truthfully, you don’t mind.

Once the dough is thoroughly mixed, you form it into a ball and wrap it tightly with cling wrap to let it rest.

“Now, after we let the dough rest for 15 minutes, we flatten the dough out with a rolling pin,” You announce, slipping from your place between Harry and the countertop to find a rolling pin. “And then, after that, we cut it into the noodles.”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows excitedly, taking his half empty wine glass from the counter and downing the rest of the liquid as he watches you. “What kind of sauce are we having?”

You pull a wooden rolling pin from a drawer, mumbling a small “aha!” before setting it on the counter. “I was thinking alfredo, if that’s alright with you. It’s simple and doesn’t take long at all.”

“Sounds amazing,” He hums, stepping towards you to curl an arm around your waist and press your body against his. He leans down for a moment to capture your lips between his and your hands come to rest on his chest. Your lips meld together languidly for a few passing moments as he presses you into the counter and trails his lips down your jaw to your neck. You can’t help but whimper from the plush warmth of his lips, sponging along your skin.

“Salad!” You exclaim suddenly.

Harry frowns, pulling his face from your neck, “That’s what you’re thinkin’ about right now? M’doing some of my best work over here and all you can think about is salad?”

“Well, we need something to go with the pasta and bread and we have that vinaigrette that we still haven’t tried.” You reply, patting his cheek with your hand before you wiggle from his grasp. Harry watches you with a pout on his lips, making you roll your eyes at him as you take a container of lettuce from the fridge.

Minutes later, the two of you are back working on the pasta, a pot filled with water is put aside as you slice the rolled dough into fettuccine pasta. Harry watches as you cut into the dough, creating almost perfectly measured strips, all dusted lightly with flour to prevent them from sticking to the counter.

“Can you turn the stove on to let the water boil? I’m almost done with the noodles.” You hum, glancing up at him. He quickly complies, smacking a kiss to your cheek before sliding over to the stove and turning the dial to high. “Oh and salt the water, too. Helps it boil faster.” You add, sliding the salt shaker towards him.

Once the noodles are boiling and the bread is cooling on the counter, you and Harry pour yourselves some more wine and begin swaying to the sound of Dean Martin crooning in Italian. His arms are loosely wound around your waist, one hand grasping his wine glass. You have one arm draped over his shoulders, the other grasps your own wine glass, allowing you to sip it at your leisure.

“Quite like this,” Harry purrs, eyes focused on yours. “Havin’ you all to myself for awhile. S’nice.”

You smile, bringing your hand up to tangle your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. “It is nice.”

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours gently, continuing to sway the two of you side to side. His lips taste strongly of red wine as he licks into your mouth, a low grunt vibrating from the back of his throat. Your fingers tug at the curled tendrils of his hair as you adjust your grip on the wine glass, careful not to spill or drop it.

Suddenly, the hissing of water overflowing onto the hot stove causes your face to separate from Harry’s with a quiet smack as you whip your head to the side to see the water from the noodles spilling over the side of the pot.

“Shit,” You mutter under your breath, unwrapping yourself from him quickly to turn the heat down and fan at the bubbles with an oven mit. The water and bubbles calm to a simmer and you sigh in relief, stirring the noodles slowly.

“Everything good?” Harry asks, leaning over your shoulder to watch you stir.

“Yeah,” You breathe through a sigh, “I think they’re done anyways.”

Eventually, you’re serving the noodles onto two plates as Harry tosses the salad and slices the bread. You slice a few small pieces of butter onto the steaming noodles before grating parmesan cheese over them generously and stepping back to admire your work.

“Looks delicious,” Harry smiles, slicing a few pieces of bread from the loaf.

Once everything is finished, you bring the food to the terrace, placing all of it on the small, round table to set up for the evening. Both of you discard your flour dusted aprons to reveal your cream, silk slip dress that reached to mid thigh and Harry’s white button up with a lavender sweater vest layered on top of it, paired with his brown, flared trousers. As always, he looks like a dream.

You sit across from each other and enjoy one another’s company as you eat, the sun slowly setting as you lounge. Harry endlessly moans over how delectable everything is and you giggle at him, nearly kicking them under the table every time he makes a sound.

After both of you clean your plates completely, you finish off the bottle of wine, splitting the remainder of the liquid between the two of you before migrating to the metal railing of the terrace. Harry’s arm is wrapped around your waist tightly, pressing you into his side as you gaze out into the quiet street.

“Lovely view,” He says from beside you and you nod, glancing at him to find him staring directly at you.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip from your wine glass and muttering “Wanker” under your breath before turning your attention back to the actual view in front of you. He chuckles to himself quietly, easily dragging you around to his front so that he can wrap both arms around you from behind. His lips drop to your shoulder, softly trailing along your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You can still hear the music playing in the house, Etta James’ “A Sunday Kind Of Love” drifting from the small speaker on the kitchen counter to the small terrace where the two of you sway.

You stay like that for awhile, drinking in the perfect weather and enjoying one another’s company until the sun goes down and the only sources of light are the street lights below and the soft light coming from the kitchen. By this time the tune of Yes’ “Yesterday and Today” is playing, the soft piano nearly lulling you to sleep in Harry’s arms.

“S’gotten dark,” He hums into your neck.

“So it has.” You reply, opening your eyes for the first time in what seems like hours.

“Think we should head in?”

You grunt quietly in response, allowing Harry to unwrap himself from you and lead you to the doorway. The sudden prospect of what’s about to come causes both of you to become giddy with excitement. The alcohol coursing through your veins heightening your emotions immensely.

The two of you stumble back into the house from the terrace, tripping over one another’s feet as you giggle drunkenly. Neither of you bother to shut the door behind you, leaving it wide open for anyone to hear or see into your house.

Harry falls back onto the couch, gazing longingly at you as you stand above him. His hands dropping to the backs over your bare thighs and tugging you forward to straddle him. You snort loudly and press your nose into his cheek as you wrap your arms wrap around his neck.

“Dinner was nice,” He mumbles, pressing hot kisses to your neck. You hum in agreement, clutching the curls at the base of his neck as his lips move. “Think I’m ready for dessert now.”

You chuckle softly, rolling your hips into his, “What kind of dessert were you thinking?”

He pulls his face from the crevice of your neck, his hands sliding to grip your waist and push you against his growing bulge as he gazes up at you with lust blown pupils. “The kind where you ride me right here on the couch.”

The delicious feeling of Harry’s bulge pressed directly against your clit mixed with the sexy rasp of his words causes a quiet whimper to pass through your lips. You lean forward, capturing his lips between yours fervently as you grind your hips against his slowly over and over.

“How’s that sound, baby?” He asks, pulling away for a moment to gaze up at you.

“Sounds good, s’good, just- please,” You slur, desperately pulling him back in for kisses. He chuckles drunkenly against your lips and slides his hands up your thighs beneath your dress, bunching the fabric around your waist so that he can easily grasp your ass and press you into him. You whimper a little louder this time, fingers tangled into your lover’s mop of curls as he works you up.

Harry’s fingers find the waistband of your thong and he helps you tug them down your legs before dropping them onto the couch cushion beside him. Your hands start to fumble with the button of his slacks, fingers working loosely due to your intoxicated brain.

Finally, his trousers are off and kicked to the side along with his briefs and you’re stroking him slowly as his lips brush against your clavicle. He’s discernibly hard already, rutting his hips up against your hand despairingly. You push yourself up onto your knees above him, holding him right against your entrance before slowly sliding down onto him. Once you’re fully seated in his lap, you gasp out a moan, pressing your forehead to his as he breathes out his own guttural moan.

“So fuckin’ tight,” He mutters under his breath, hips jutting up into you subconsciously.

The thin strap of your dress slides off your shoulder as you begin to move on top of him, the movement causing your braless breasts to nearly spill out of the fabric. Harry leans forward, pressing hot, wet kisses to the swell of your breasts as you move, both of you whining breathlessly.

“Mm, Harry,” You gasp after he thrusts up into you harshly, his tip brushing directly against your g spot and causing your legs to quiver violently.

“That’s the spot, hm?” He growls, wrapping his arms tighter around you to aid him in thrusting against the same spot over and over as you bounce against him. You nod weakly at his venereal question, hiding your face in his neck and pressing your chest flush against his.

Your tepid, clammy bodies slide against each other with every girate of your hips, fingers tangled between locks of hair, tugging and combing at the tendrils. Neither of you are fully undressed, Harry's vest and button up crumpled up over his belly button, both straps of your silk dress barely holding on to your shoulders, but you’re both so entrapped with each other that neither of you care.

“Fuck,” you whimper, biting into his shoulder. “You’re so big, H. Always feel so good.”

He grunts, pushing up into you harder and silently requesting a kiss from you by moving his head to nudge against yours. You move your head to kiss him, haphazardly taking his bottom lip between yours. His tongue slowly works its way into your mouth as you kiss, hands pressing into your ass cheeks to push you onto him deeper. You move back against him harder, chasing your imminent release no matter how much your thighs burn and ache with your constant movements.

“I’m gonna cum,” You breathe into his mouth, his arms immediately tightening around your waist to pull you into him and thrust upwards harshly.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb quickly gliding over your slippery clit. “Shit- c’mon, cum for me, baby.”

You toss your head back onto your shoulders, Harry’s lips immediately stamping into the column of your throat as you gasp and your thighs tighten around his waist. You cry out as the knot snaps and warmth spreads across your body from within, Harry continuing to fuck into you from beneath you.

“That’s it, good girl.” He mutters into your throat, perspiration building at his hairline as he chases his own orgasm and brings your body down into his.

Moments later he grunts into your skin, cum spilling into you thickly. Your hips roll into him slowly, coaxing everything out of him as his head falls against the back of the couch. Your fingers slip into his sweaty curls, gently and soothingly stroking his scalp whilst the two of you catch your breath. Leaning forward, you press gentle kisses to his face and he mumbles under his breath, “So fuckin’ good to me,”

The playlist you put on is finally repeating itself after sifting through nearly 2 hours of songs. The door to the terrace is still wide open, curtains quivering slightly from the steady breeze. Harry finally regains his strength and rolls the two of you over so that you’re lying back against the couch cushions, hips still pressed together as he hovers above you. He presses a few kisses to your neck and face before he pushes up onto his knees and pulls out of you.

He steps away for a moment to grab a damp washcloth for you to clean up with and returns with a clean pair of boxers on and a t-shirt for you to wear (along with the washcloth, of course). He helps wipe the stickiness from the inside of your thighs before waiting for you to change into his t-shirt.

Once you’re both (for the most part) cleaned up, you pitter into the kitchen to grab a small container of gelato from the freezer. “Up for some real dessert?”

if you enjoyed this piece and would like to support me, pls donate to my ko-fi!

OK HEY!! i kinda just wrote this bc i saw a tik tok of a couple making pasta and wanted to write something similar so here ya go <3 don’t forget to reblog and send me asks!!!<33333

962 notes · View notes

silhouetteofacedar · 4 years ago

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 6: The Slowest Cooker

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

It’s Friday, April 17th, and they’re eating lunch in the Hoover building’s cafeteria. They eat lunch together almost every day now, Mulder realizes. They’re practically joined at the hip.

Except in the fun way.

Today is different, though. Because today she invites him over for dinner.

Scully’s devouring a caesar salad, and Mulder’s heart is warmed by the evidence of her returning appetite. Five months ago, she was dying of cancer, and now she’s here stealing the occasional potato chip from the bag he got from the vending machine. He doesn’t mind; she could take his entire sandwich from him right now, and he’d happily watch her eat it.

“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she chews. “My mother got me a crockpot for my birthday and I’m thinking of giving it a test drive.”

His heart leaps, and he wants to shout yes, but instead he asks “What about Mark?”

She gives him one of her patented Scully looks. “I’m allowed to have friends, Mulder. And I still owe you for going to the bar with me that one time, remember?” She takes another bite of salad. “Also, he’s working.”

“Ah,” Mulder says knowingly. “Sure; what’s on the menu?”

“Pork roast,” she replies. “My mom’s recipe. The leftovers make great pulled-pork sandwiches.”

“Anything you’d like me to bring?”

Scully shrugs. “Red wine would go nicely, but I’ll be testing you at the door to make sure you’re not Eddie Van Blundht,” she says dryly.

“You gonna check me for evidence of a tail, Scully?” he says in a low tone, leaning in so they’re not overheard.

“Keep that up and I’m rescinding my invite and keeping all the leftovers to myself,” she replies, picking a wilted bit of romaine out of her salad.

It’s not a date, he reminds himself. Just friends sharing dinner.

Regardless, he takes a shower and puts on one of his nicer sweaters before heading to her place.

He knocks on her door at 6:30 sharp, a bottle of Pinot Noir in hand. His palm is a little sweaty, and he grips the wine tightly to avoid dropping it.

“It’s open,” he hears her call out.

He opens the door and is hit by the savory aroma of meat and herbs. His mouth waters instantly. When he turns and sees her in the kitchen, it waters for a different reason entirely.

Scully’s reaching into the cupboard above the sink, her soft green sweater riding up to expose a ribbon of creamy skin. He wants to wrap his arms around her waist, kiss her neck, tell her to forget dinner because he’s got something else on his mind.

Instead he just says “Hey”.

“Hi,” she greets him, bringing down two salad plates and setting them on the table. “Do you want to hear the good news first or the bad?”

Mulder blinks. “Uh,” he says brilliantly. That goddamn little sweater-

“The good news is that I’ve had the crockpot running for about six hours, and nothing’s caught fire,” she says, leaning against the countertop.

He nods. “And the bad news is…”

“I started the roast at almost half noon,” Scully admits. “I had to go to the grocery store first and that took longer than expected. So the meat won’t be done until eight-thirty.”

“That’s fine,” Mulder says, hoping his stomach doesn’t rumble loudly enough for her to hear. “Oh, and I brought Pinot Noir,” he says, reading the label.

---

They eat the salad she prepared; it’s spinach and apple with vinaigrette, and Mulder has to admit it’s pretty tasty.

“You’re a good hostess, Scully,” Mulder says as she pours him a glass of Prosecco. “Maggie should be proud.”

“Please note the size of crockpot she gifted me,” Scully replies, gesturing to the slow-cooker on the counter. “She fully intends for me to feed a crowd, not just you. I have a long way to go.” She sits across from him and takes a sip of her wine. “But this is a start.”

“Can I make a confession?” he asks.

Scully nods.

“I… I don’t drink much wine. So I have no idea if the one I brought is any good. I told the store clerk I was having pork for dinner and he recommended that one,” Mulder says, cocking his head toward the bottle on the counter.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scully assures him. “I’m not a wine snob by any means. I’m kind of surprised you’re not one, actually, considering your background.”

Mulder shrugs. “I don’t drink much, aside from the occasional beer. But this is good,” he says, lifting his glass.

———

The Prosecco is… very good.

“How long until the meat’s done?” Mulder asks, resting his head on his hand.

“Half hour,” Scully replies, downing the last sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, Mulder. Do you want some cheese and crackers to tide you over?”

“M’good,” he says lazily, stifling a burp. He’s feeling warm and soft inside, and the wine’s put him in a charitable mood. “How are things with Mark?”

“Things are good… things are fine,” Scully says, then sighs. “He’s… god, he’s so nice.”

“Nice is good, right?” Mulder asks, toying with his empty wine glass. “People like nice.”

Scully narrows her eyes at him. “Are you feeling okay, Mulder?”

“We’re not talking about me,” he says, slumping in his chair and stretching his long legs out under the table. “We’re talking about Mark. Mark Eidolanterns.”

“Einolander,” Scully corrects him. “And yes, nice is good, generally,” she continues. “But sometimes I wish he weren’t so nice. I don’t know,” she says, exhaling. “I need more wine if I’m going to talk about this,” she says with a huff of laughter.

“Hey, we got it,” Mulder says. “Dinner’s almost ready anyway. Let’s try the mystery Pinot I brought.”

---

The pot roast is done cooking and they’re definitely a little drunk.

“Whew… I’m feeling this,” Mulder says, holding the bottle up too close to his face as he attempts to read the label. “It’s been so long, I forgot that wine does this to me.”

“Higher alcohol content,” Scully says. “And you’re a lightweight.”

“That your medical opinion, Dr. Scully?” he asks.

“Yes,” she mumbles, slicing a piece off of the roast and dumping it unceremoniously onto his plate. “Tada,” she says, pushing it across the table to him. “Meat.”

“I can see that,” he remarks. He takes another sip of wine. “Wine’s good,” he assures her, even though she’s already on her second glass of the red.

“Can’t say the same for the roast,” she admits, chewing. “I skimped on the salt and in hindsight that was a bad idea.”

Mulder shovels a piece into his mouth. “Tastes good to me,” he assures her. “But I’ve only had wine and salad since lunchtime so at this point I’d eat anything. I’d eat you,” he adds, pointing his fork in her direction.

“Pass that idea along to Mark,” she sighs, then covers her mouth. “I didn’t say that,” she says, face red.

“You did,” Mulder crows, too tipsy to feel jealous. “You did and I heard you.” He takes another draw from his glass. “The store guy was right, this is good with pork.”

“You’re going to have an incredible hangover tomorrow,” Scully says, chewing meditatively. “Wine’s a bitch.”

“You should swear more,” Mulder says. “It’s endearing.”

Scully shakes her head. “I can’t believe how drunk you are,” she says, almost fondly.

“I’m not that drunk,” he insists. Just in love with you.

Scully smiles. “No sober man has ever said that.”

---

“There’s no spark,” she blurts out.

They’d taken the rest of of the wine to the couch and are slumped on opposite ends, goblets in hand.

“No spark?” Mulder echoes. It was an admission he wasn’t expecting. He angles his body towards hers, careful not to spill his glass.

“With Mark. I like him, I really do. He’s kind, intelligent, a devoted father, and quite attractive; and yet…” She gestures loosely to her body with the hand not holding her wine. “Nothing.” She takes another sip. “I can’t shake the idea that I should be feeling more. And the fact that he hasn’t kissed me yet... I understand wanting to move slowly and let things grow with time, but not even a single kiss?”

“Th-that did strike me as odd,” Mulder stumbles. “You have nice lips.”

“I do,” Scully agrees, seemingly unfazed by the comment. “I should be kissed.” She drains her glass and holds it out to him.

Mulder pours out the last of the bottle into her glass. “Maybe if… maybe if you kissed, you’d find the spark.”

Scully shakes her head. “No. No, it does’t work that way. At least not for me. I don’t want to force chemistry that’s not there,” she explains. “It should come naturally, feel like it does with-”

Mulder waits expectantly for her to finish her sentence. “With?” he prompts.

Her face is flushed with wine, and she licks her lips. “Mulder, tell me honestly; do you think I’m settling?”

The room suddenly feels too warm, and he takes a nervous gulp of wine that does nothing to calm his body. “Scully, I- I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“You’re my closest friend,” she says softly, eyes cast downward. “Who else would I ask?”

She has a point. “Your mother-” he begins.

“She set me up with him in the first place,” Scully reminds him. “Clearly she’d be no help.”

“What do you want, Scully? If you’re honest with yourself.” He raises his glass. “In vino veritas, or whatever,” he says, taking another drink.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I always do this. I find a man I want to impress or gain the approval of, then resent the authority I let them have over me. This cycle of… of compliance and defiance is exhausting.”

He can tell she’s tipsy, and yet at the same time she’s strangely lucid. He’s never gotten to experience this particular kind of vulnerability with her before, and it gives him a thrill. He can feel the warmth of her body permeating him from across the sofa, her bright hair like a wood stove fire on a winter night. He wants to wrap her entire body around him like a blanket and have a long sleep.

“Yup, I’m drunk,” he declares, and throws back the last of his glass.

#my fic #txf fic #xfiles #msr #fox mulder closet romantic #fmcr #DRUNK AGENTS WITH POT ROAST #i don't drink so i did a lot of research for this okay like a LOT #the next two chapters are gonna be WILD aaa

89 notes · View notes

sweetestofchaos · 3 years ago

Photo

𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 11𝔱𝔥 ~ ℒℴ𝓋ℯ ~1,739

Trope: Gang AU Waring(s): SFW. Interracial Relationship. Kissing. SOL. Soft!Hobi. Description: Arissa and Hoseok are so close to saying those powerful words. Paring(s): Gang!Hoseok and OC!Arissa

“Lᴏᴠᴇ ɪs ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪs ғᴜʟʟ ᴏғ ᴄᴀʀᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ғᴇᴀʀs.”

𝘖𝘷𝘪𝘥

“So, you’ll be back soon?”

Arissa smiles at the phone screen in front of her, “Yeah, Hobi. I’ll be home soon.”

“I miss you, peach.”

Heat warms under Arissa’s face at Hoseok’s words and she yawns, “Will you stay on the phone till I fall asleep?”

Hoseok nods his head as he sits back against the couch, pausing the movie they were watching together. “It sucks that I’ll probably be leaving when you get home.”

“Can’t one of the other guys go?”

Hoseok laughs with a shake of his head, “Namjoon only trust me with this trade, sadly. I think the last time Jimin went he lost the package.”

Arissa giggles and fixes the bonnet on her head, “Then I guess it can’t be stopped.” She yawns and settles herself in bed, laying on her side.

“Get some sleep yeobo, I’ll be here…” Hoseok starts to sing softly and Arissa smiles, her eyes dropping slowly as she lets the darkness take her.

Arissa has been home for about three hours and the house is empty which she is thankful for. Arissa came up with the plan to surprise the guys with a nice homecooked meal after a long day of work to announce her arrive home. Getting to work Arissa puts a pot of water on the stove and turns the heat up to six. While the water is heating up, she asks Alexa to play her K-R&B playlist on Spotfiy. Blessed by THAMA ft. GSoul starts to play as Arissa starts unpacking the chicken and seasoning it with her own mixture of lemon grass, time, chili pepper flakes, lemon juice and white pepper. Grabbing a mallet Arissa pounds the meat until it's thin enough to her liking and layers it with freshly cut up mushrooms and diced spinach with a little freshly grated Parmesan cheese. She's interrupted when her phone rings, Hoseok’s face flashing on her screen.

Wiping her hands off on her towel Arissa answers her phone, “Hey, Hobi.” she greets.

“Hey. What are you doing right now?”

Arissa smiles and looks around her. “Making dinner. I'm about to let everyone know I'm home in a little bit. Why?”

“I'm about to head out…I wanted to make sure you were home. I just wanted to swing by and see you before I leave.”

“Yeah handsome, I’m home. It's a good thing you called 'cause I got you something for your trip.” Arissa explains holding her phone up to her ear with her shoulder while she starts to roll the chicken up about an inch or so around and sprinkles breadcrumbs over them.

“I'll be there in half an hour.” Hoseok says and Arissa glances at the clock on the stove top that reads 4:55.

“See you then.”

“Bye.” Hoseok smiles and hangs up.

Arissa spends the next ten minutes finishing up stuffing and rolling the chicken and then puts them in the oven uncovered at 350 degrees. Washing her hands Arissa moves onto the salad cutting up some Little Gems, Oak Leaf, Watercress lettuce, a red pepper, and sprinkling a little dried cranberry over everything. Arissa starts to make her own Raspberry Lemon Vinaigrette and she jumps slightly when someone knocks on her door. Wiping her hands on her towel once again, Arissa exits the kitchen and walks to the front door. She opens the door and Hoseok is standing there looking ready to ride in his leather gloves and jacket.

“Don't you look cute.” Arissa jokes and Hoseok smirks stepping inside the house when Arissa moves out of the way. “I'm liking the shirt, but why didn’t you just walk in?”

“Thanks. I'm liking what little of a shirt you have on.” Hoseok says and Arissa laughs slapping his chest.

“Shut up.” she mummer and Hoseok smiles.

“I didn’t feel like grabbing my house keys.” Hoseok shrugs his shoulder, and his brows pull together as he sniffs the air. “What are you cooking?” he asks and Arissa smile. She grabs his hand and pulls him into the kitchen.

“Stuffed Lemon Chicken Alfredo with garlic bread and a salad on the side.”

“Damn that sounds good.” Hoseok states and peaks in the oven at the chicken.

“You could always stay for dinner; I made a lot.” Arissa offers as Hoseok shuts the oven. He turns around and shakes his head.

“If I stayed, I would never leave.” Hoseok admits and Arissa nods her head understanding what he means. “So, what did you get me?” Hoseok inquires and Arissa runs out of the kitchen. She runs up the steps to her room and grabs Hoseok's bag.

Walking down the steps Arissa pokes her head into the kitchen and smiles at Hoseok who is sitting at the island. “Put the noodles in the water and come into the living room when you're done.” She tells him and heads into the living room. Sitting down on the couch Arissa sets the bag by her feet and waits for Hoseok. Hoseok comes into the living room a few moments later and sits beside Arissa with a bit of space between them. “So, I know how you always complain about how shitty your gloves are and I see that you're still wearing them.” Arissa points out with a light frown on her face, “So I got you a little something to help with that and something else because they looked cool.” Arissa smiles and hands Hoseok the bag.

Taking the bag from Arissa carefully, Hoseok looks at the bag and puts his hand inside. He grabs the first thing he feels and pulls it out. A large smile breaks out on Hoseok's face when he sees the Aviator sunglasses. “Rissa these are pretty bad-ass.” Hoseok giggles and slips them on his face. “How do I look?” he asks and pulling a funny face making Arissa laugh.

“You're such a dork.” she giggles and Hoseok pouts but goes back inside the bag. He pulls out the last thing and they are a new pair of leather fingerless gloves. “Do you like them?” Arissa asks and Hoseok pulls her into a hug. She hugs him back and laughs when he repeats thank you repeatedly while hugging her. “You're welcome Hobi.”

“You really didn't have to get me anything.” Hoseok says once he lets Arissa go, and she waves him off.

“I wasn't going to let you drive around the world with shitty gloves.”

“You're the fucking best!” Hoseok beams and takes off his old gloves. He slips on the new ones and smiles, “They fit.” he says and flexes his fingers.

“They better fit, I've bandaged your hands how many times now?” Arissa huffs and Hoseok looks up from his hand to her face.

“Thank you.” he mummers softly and Arissa nods her head.

“You're welcome.” Hoseok smiles once again and glances down at his watch.

“I should get going...” he mutters and Arissa looks down at her hands. “Walk me out?” Hoseok begs softly as he stands up. He offers Arissa his hand and she happily grabs hold of it. Together they walk out the front door and Arissa stops him.

“Do me a favor before you leave?”

“What's that?”

“Take a picture?” Arissa asks holding out her cell phone. Hoseok takes her phone and Arissa fixes her shorts and adjusts her shirt before she leans up against the house without a smile on her face.

“Are you going to smile at all?”

“Na. I'll be smiling enough when everyone gets here.” Arissa deadpans and Hoseok laughs lightly. He steps back a little and takes a picture of Arissa.

“Alright, send away.” he says handing her the phone. Arissa quickly sends a text message to everyone saying miss u, give me a hug?? Once the message is sent Arissa shoves her phone in her back pocket and walks Hoseok over to his bike.

“You'll be careful right?” Arissa voices her worry while playing with the loose strings on her shorts.

“I'm always careful.” Hoseok states looking down at Arissa. Arissa tilts her head up to look at him better and Hoseok offers her that all too familiar smile, “Don't worry about me Rissa, I'll be fine.”

“I always worry about you when you're ridding this damn thing.” Hoseok chuckles and takes Arissa's hands in his.

He raises them to his lips and kisses her fingers, “I promise you I'll be safe.” he says as he lowers their hands. “I’m the only one that won’t fuck this up. You understand that?” Arissa nods her head and Hoseok pulls her into a hug. He holds her tightly in his arms and kisses the top of her head while she fists his leather jacket tightly. Arissa isn't lying, she always worries when Hoseok or any of the guys for that matter ride motorcycles. Hoseok pulls away from Arissa slightly and lifts her face up with his hand under her chin. “You finished your mission. Let me do mine.” he whispers and Arissa laughs lightly.

Hoseok leans down to capture her lips with his and Arissa freezes up. Hoseok kisses her softly and slowly. Once Arissa gets over the shock she kisses Hoseok back and laces her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Hoseok brings his other hand up and cups the other side of Arissa's face deepening the kiss as he runs his tongue across her bottom lip. Arissa parts her lips and welcomes Hoseok's tongue a bit hesitantly. Their lungs beg for air, and they pull apart from each other breathing heavily with Hoseok cupping her cheek, “We can talk when I get back if you want.”

“Yeah, when you get back.” Arissa slowly pulls herself out of Hoseok's arms.

“I'll see you later, peach.”

“Yeah...later Hobi.” Arissa mummers and wraps her arms around her waist watching as Hoseok get on his bike. He sends her a wink as he starts it up and she gives him a smile. “I care about you Jung Hoseok.” she tells him and the smile on Hoseok’s face shines brighter than the sun.

“I care about you too Jung Arissa.” he says and starts to drive away.

“Hey!” Arissa shouts catching Hoseok's attention making him stop ridding. “Be careful out there and come back safely.” Hoseok smirks at Arissa’s words and nods his head. Hoseok pulls off and Arissa watches after him until he's out of sight, then she heads back inside the house.

#soc blacktober #blacktober 2021 #bts gang AU #interracial relationship #ambw #bts jhope #soc jhope #love #slow burn #exqueuese me #black!oc

21 notes · View notes

mizjoely · 3 years ago

Text

Day 31: Champagne

Whew, made it! Only (checks calendar) 20 days late lol. Still, I did it! The last day of Fandom Christmas in August July Sherlolly fic for your reading pleasure!

Champagne

“Here’s to us.”

They clink glasses, sip down the bubbly sweetness of the champagne. He makes a face; she laughs.

The person watching them sighs wistfully, glances at their dinner partner. Makes to speak, hesitates, then simply tucks into their meal.

“Something on your mind, Molly?”

Molly shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s silly.”

“Are you wondering why we don’t go through all the same romantic twaddle as ‘everyone else’?” She doesn’t have to look at him to see his lip curling. “Like that couple across the way you’ve been sighing over ever since we arrived?”

“Chances are they’re not out on New Years on a case,” Molly mumbles, shoveling in another (exquisite) bite of asperges vinaigrette.

“No, they’re attempting to repair their faltering relationship,” he agrees/deduces. “He’s on his third affair, she’s seriously considering leaving him except for the fact of their two, no three young children. They’re doomed to failure of course; a serial adulterer rarely changes his ways. Which,” he adds with some exasperation, “she should know since she’s his second wife, the ‘homewrecker’ with whom he was carrying on while married to his first wife.”

“Fine, I get it, romance is dead,” Molly snaps, dropping her fork onto the table and glaring at him. So much for their tentative attempts at a relationship; she should have known they didn’t want the same things from it. For heaven’s sake, they hadn’t even got past the hand-holding stage yet, and it had been a month! “Happy New Year, Sherlock. Have you got enough information for your client? Because I’m quite ready to call it a night.”

“We can’t leave until midnight, which is only fifteen minutes away.”

Molly continues to glare at him. “Why not?” she demands, although she keeps her voice low in case anyone might be eavesdropping. Wouldn’t want to give the game away, after all, she thinks bitterly.

Unexpectedly, Sherlock reaches out and covers her clenched fist with his hand. “Because tradition demands it,” he says.

“Tradition? What tradition?” she asks. Because the only New Year’s Eve tradition that takes place at midnight that she can think of is - but no, surely not?

“Yes, we’re here for a case but I specifically asked you to accompany me so that we could be together at midnight so I could kiss you,” Sherlock says, confirming her surmise but looking down, as if speaking to the plate of lamb chops in cognac Dijon cream sauce set in front of him. He looks up at her intake of breath, his expression the most uncertain she’s ever seen it. “That is, if you’d like me to. I know this past year has been difficult, but now that my sister seems to be coming out of her catatonic state, I thought it might be the right time for…”

He falls silent as Molly rises from her chair, takes the few steps to reach his side, then slides onto his lap, uncaring of who might be watching. She winds her arms around his neck; his hands settle, somewhat uncertainly, on her waist. “I’ll wait till then if you’d like,” she says, “but if you don’t mind, I’d rather kiss you now, Sherlock. One kiss for this year, then another for the new year. Because frankly I think we’ve wasted enough time already, don’t you?”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he says, and their lips meet and eyes flutter shut and smattering of applause erupts around them that they’re far too involved with one another to notice.

Across the room the serial adulterer’s wife sighs and looks at her husband through unhappy eyes. “Why can’t you be more like that, Harold?” she asks. “With me, I mean.” She stands up, champagne and meal forgotten. “I’m going home. You can come if you like, but don’t expect to sleep in the same bed with me.”

“But Marge -” he begins, only to silence himself at her weary shake of the head.

“Don’t bother,” she says. “And don’t try to bring the kids into this - they’ll be unhappy but they’ll deal with it, somehow. Just like your other kids learned to deal with it when you left their mum for me. It’s over, Harold. I thought we could make a go of it but now I realize - we just don’t want the same things.”

And she walks out of the expensive restaurant, head held high, while Harold sits and gapes after her.

#dis is mine #sherlolly #fandom christmas in july #mizjoely writes #mizjoely's fics

23 notes · View notes

cherryblossomtease · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 20

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Two days later, everything nearly goes to shit.

It happens during a particularly delicious lunch. You’ve got a mouth full; salmon with bright cherry tomatoes on a bed of spinach and perfectly ripened avocado with a lemon vinaigrette. You wash it down with a gulp of crisp white wine that Zemo has picked himself and manage to swallow before you laugh as Bucky goes on telling some wild story about one of his many adventures with Sam.

The day is about an hour away from reaching pure perfection and there’s a lightness in the air on board the yacht. This temporary domestic life of luxury suits you all so well that your hazy days of bliss and nights spent sleeping in a pile like some feral pack have spoiled you all rotten —well maybe not last night actually, now that you think of it. In spite of taking a little hiatus, sex comes in many forms and you didn’t get to sleep until well after midnight as you’d been too busy bringing Sergeant Barnes to a stunning climax using just your hands while Zemo pulled the leash clipped to your collar for once and buried his cock so deep in the man you both love that the combination of Bucky’s moans and your high pitched cries from Bucky’s metal hand working wonders between your legs set them both off; Bucky spilling onto your fingers, Zemo gasping in your ear as he emptied into James.

Fucking hell…

“Wait, who ended up in the dumpster?” You ask blinking back to the present, attempting to be a part of the conversation.

“We both did!” Bucky says and Zemo snorts a laugh.

“Why wouldn’t you just shoot the assassin!” Zemo asks actually sounding annoyed as he leans forward. “All of the do-gooding! It’s ridiculous sometimes.”

You’ve lost the plot but it’s fun watching them.

Bucky shrugs, his vibranium thumb casually stroking Zemo’s fingers that rest so comfortably in his hand. “Hey, I offered. Sam just wasn’t on board.” He jokes— you think.

“Super heroes,” Zemo's eyes practically roll out of his head.

You laugh again and take another bite of lunch, turning your face to the warm winds of the nearing Mediterranean and close your eyes to listen to the waves. You feel so at peace here. Shocking how quickly that can be taken away.

It is the silence of all things that ends the tranquility.

You can sense that things are too still and quickly open your eyes, looking back and forth between them.

Zemo quickly pulls his hand away, Bucky tosses his napkin down. It is that same look they both had the other night, but amplified. This time there is no guess work to be done. They know.

“One?” Zemo asks, his head tilted.

“But large.” Bucky answers, his head down.

They are both listening.

“What is it?” You ask, your arms tingling with adrenaline already.

“Quiet.” Zemo snaps.

You clamp your mouth shut and look over your shoulder. From the top deck you see nothing but blue water, but when you turn back to the table, their bodies are frozen in place and you see the same look of survival in two sets of eyes.

“Five minutes?” Bucky asks him.

Zemo shakes his head “Three.” He’s already starting to rise and nearly knocks his chair over he’s behind you so quickly. He lifts you up from yours before before you can finish you bite.

He’s got you by the arm, pulling you towards the stairs and away from Bucky who’s gone full soldier, drawing guns from under the table that you never even knew were there.

“Get into the bedroom.” Zemo demands in your ear as he takes you “Not ours. Third on the right. No questions. There is a gun under the bed. Take it. If the door opens and it’s not me, James or Oeznik, shoot them.”

“What about the crew?” You ask spinning on the top step refusing to go down.

“You’ve never seen them have you?” He asks pushing you away.

“No?”

“That was by design. Shoot anyone whose face you’ve never seen. Go!”

You start your descent with a thousand questions but you’re too afraid to ask a single one.

“And don’t come out until either of us says it’s safe!” He calls after you as you go running. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry you’ll pass out because you can hear it now— a speed boat.

You didn’t think you were that close to shore? This must mean someone has come out to find you. They must have been driving for a few days. Or maybe they’ve been dropped out here on a waiting vessel, but why?

As you fly past the second deck you catch a glimpse of the shining black boat coming for yours and fast, but it’s the pinging sound that shocks you.

You haven’t been shot at in years.

You don’t scream— you run. You get down and you hold your breath turning back into the girl from Low Town who managed to survive those streets long enough to meet the man who pulled her out of them.

The sound of more bullets hitting the yacht is terrifying but you know better than to stop. You fly through the den and count the doors bursting in through the third, slamming it shut behind you.

It’s a nice room and you realize you’ve never been in any of them before.

Quickly you go to the bed, find the gun under the frame and pull it free of the tape.

Holding it sends a spark of recognition through you. Muscle memory is a hell of a thing. You go to the corner beside the door waiting and calm your breath so that you can hear what’s happening.

The annoying thing about this damn boat is that it’s meant to keep noise to a minimum when you’re in the bedrooms, so of course you can’t hear a fucking thing; just the far off sound of shouting and that’s it.

Minutes pass like hours. It’s excruciating to just stand here without a clue as to who is winning the fight, and if there even is one?

Of course you’ve got two pretty exceptional men on your side so you’re fairly certain you already know how this will go down. But what if these aren’t regular people? What if it’s someone from the raft? What if it’s some leftover avenger? But they wouldn’t shoot— at least you don’t think so? One thing’s for sure, it’s not the Wakandans, they definitely wouldn’t shoot and you’d already be prisoner. So who is it? Who would have the balls to come after Baron Zemo and the Winter Soldier?

Finally you hear voices, muffled and far off.

You know for certain then. They’ve gotten on board…

Closing your eyes, you strain your ears and press your head to the wall knowing it’s a dumb thing to do. Anyone could start shooting and then you’re fucked.

“I’m below decks. Can anyone hear me?”

Your eyes open wide with the surprise of a woman’s voice just outside the door in the hallway. Is she talking to you? Is this a rescue mission?

“Shit.” She mumbles, her accent thick. You can’t place it. German maybe? “Coms out.” She’s talking to herself now. You raise your gun close. “All right, we know there’s three of you. My guys already have the other two up top. Come on out”

Who the fuck does she think she’s talking to? You roll your eyes doubting her every word.

“You sure about that?” You say. No way anyone has gotten the jump on your men— Oh shit— was that out loud?

“Oh! I've got the girlfriend! Bruno said you’re a sweet little thing. Always on your knees, always begging for it.”

Bruno? Who the fuck is Bruno? And does that mean he’s been watching? Staff. Must be!

“Well, I may not have a pretty metal arm or blow up kings but I’m sure my reputation could get you just as wet.” She says with an ugly laugh and you can hear her oversized ego through the wall.

You are silent and still. She’ll go away. Because if she doesn’t, you’ll shoot her the second that door opens.

The doorknob begins to turn, you steady yourself and prepare to do something you haven’t in years. Your mouth is dry, your hands shake but you will not go out like this, not after everything you’ve been through.

The door starts to open. But she gives a loud shout. “Fuck! AJ! Fix your com! You’re screaming in my ear!” The door stops, you hear her start to walk away. “AJ? Can you hear me?” There’s a long pause and even you hear the sounds of an obvious fight through static and then gunfire from above. “Scheißen! I’m coming!” She calls.

No. You’re not.

You toss the door open and throw yourself out into the hall to find a woman with a blonde braid go trotting towards the den and inevitably the stairs up.

“Hey! Thought you wanted a date!” You taunt.

She spins, gun drawn but you never were one to hesitate.

The sound of gun fire is so quick you think you’ve taken the first shot but can’t say for sure. With your gun still aimed but your right hand free, you start groping your body over your silky white tank and shorts, feeling no pain. The woman however, looks at you, opens her mouth and you think she’s going to speak, but falls and the spray of blood along the wall startles you.

Her fall reveals the real reason for the confusion. It wasn’t your shot that took her out. It was his.

Zemo stands behind her, his pistol lowering, the stoic look of a man who has been in this position countless times keeping him calm but the wild look in his eyes making you step back.

“I said to stay in the room!” Zemo shouts charging towards you. His accent is thicker when he’s angry. Actually, you realize in this moment that you’ve never seen him so mad before. All of the kinks are welcome and pretend —this is very real.

“I’m sorry” You snap still backing away. It reminds you of the night with Polinksy but so much worse.

“Hey! Little help up here!” Bucky shouts down, his voice distant as he’s still on the second deck.

“I’m coming!” Zemo responds and leans around the dead woman to grab your arm. He yanks you along the bloodless wall, past her body and close to him.

“She was coming for you.” You say looking back into the woman’s lifeless eyes as you leave.

“Yes of course she was.” He says not looking back at you as he pulls you along.

“Was it a plan or something?” You ask trotting to keep up. “Was I bait?"

“No, you were not bait. I knew she was down here and her next move was expected.” He answers bringing you up the steps.

“You’re too tight.” You say trying to take your arm back but he jerks you up.

“Let me go!”

Zemo spins on you “You could have been killed!” His shout is a heavy whisper and you back down seeing now that his anger, fierce as it is, is fear.

“I truly thought you and Bucky were in trouble Helmut I’m sorry.”

“Do you have any idea what it would have done to him? To James if they killed you? It’s not just me. It’s him too.”

You want to stand up for yourself. You didn’t back down before, you won’t back down now. You aren’t wrong… right? You love him, you love Bucky, so why shouldn’t you protect them too. You may not be Black Widow or Wasp, but does that mean you have to cower in a hole like some useless nobody? Just because of who these men are doesn’t mean you can’t come to their rescue sometimes.

You’re leaning in, glaring at him as he stares at you, all of the rage in his eyes reaching a boiling point until yours glaze over and you back down looking away. He turns without saying another word and you follow in silence.

On the second deck you lift your head to find Bucky standing over two dead bodies and one man on his knees with his hands tied behind his back.

“Stand there. And don’t move this time.” Zemo says over his shoulder to you, his tone that of a disappointed father which stings your pride and stops you before you can leave the stairwell.

You just nod but jump when you feel a hand on your arm. Jerking your head up you find Oeznik holding a gun looking very angry. “Best to do as he says miss,” He tells you watching the Baron walk away.

“Whats happened?” You ask feeling a little safer now.

“Betrayal.” He answers and the word sounds rotten on his tongue, so much so that your own mouth turns down as you focus your attention on the unfolding scene.

Zemo goes up to Bucky who seems stuck, you can’t quite tell what it is but you get the sense that a very different switch has been flipped by all of this and he would very much like to turn it off.

Helmuts hand on Bucky's arm of flesh and blood makes him flinch, he squeezes just a little “James.” He waits, he studies Bucky’s face. “It’s all right. You’re here. With us.” He says very softly, his eyes kind and daring to show love even with the gore around them as he lays his palm to Bucky’s face. “At ease” he whispers.

Bucky’s eyes close instantly and you see the painful memories of so many decades past weigh heavy on him in that single movement. It makes you hang your head feeling guilty for reasons you can’t explain.

“I don’t need you to kill anyone. Just hold him there for me so that I can ask him why. Can you handle that?” You hear Helmut ask.

You don’t look up but the sound of their steps across the deck is your answer, as well as the way the man on his knees tries not to cry out when Bucky grips his shoulder.

“How much did they say you’d get?” Zemo asks him almost immediately.

“Doesn’t matter does it?” The man says shaking his head. He’s of small stature, but fit with a shaved head, a large nose, and big black eyes. He’s young and looks dangerous in an exciting way. Honestly, he looks promising, if he hadn’t just fucked up so spectacularly.

He spits blood onto the deck making you flinch and you see that he’s been knocked around quite a bit. His eye is swelling rapidly, his jaw is already bruising. You’ve seen violence your entire life but to see it here on your floating oasis makes you feel ill. You reach and find comfort in the firm arm of the old butler who keeps you on your feet as you go on watching.

“No, no it doesn’t.” Zemo agrees as he paces. Its fascinating how even with his thin white shirt blowing in the warm breeze, and his hair which has grown longer falling in his eyes, and his pants relaxed and his hands in his pockets, Zemo looks like the sort of man who might make one’s death memorable —not for them of course— but for anyone unfortunate enough to see it. “I took my time deciding who to break out.” He says stoping, thinking, his finger pointing gently at the man “I thought my choices were well made. You’ve all got pasts that you’d like to keep there— secrets.” He flashes a knowing smile “ Lives you wish to get back to and start. You help me, I help you; we all sail away and in the end we part as free people, no questions asked.” He stops and leans down. “You should have stuck to the plan Bruno.”

Oh…

“Was my connection not enough for you? You’re one of the best young chefs I’ve ever known. You could have built an empire. Isn’t that what you dreamed of? Why do this?”

“What? Sell you out for millions? I don’t know Zemo? Maybe I don’t want to work for the rest of my life. But you wouldn’t know anything about that would you?” Bruno says lifting his good eye.

Zemo stands, quiet and contemplative. He glances up at Bucky and back over at you. “So you risk the lives of everyone on board, my crew, my family. The man and woman I love most in all the world, so that you; a chef, would not have to cook anymore?” He says making sure Bruno can hear the absurdity of it.

You can still taste your salad from lunch. That salmon might have been the best you’ve ever had.

He sighs so loudly you lean away. “Sorry man, it was just business.”

Bucky looks down him with a scowl. “And you thought that piece of shit crew could pull it off?” He asks.

You look at the two dead men on the deck.

There are three of them, four included himself. He thought four people could take out Bucky and Zemo?

“They were former military.” Bruno tries.

You snicker loudly and everyone turns to look at you.

Zemo’s eyes narrow and you step back trying to hide behind Oeznik.

“I’m sorry, you see, for all the trouble she’s gotten herself into today, even my girlfriend knows that was a mistake.” He turns back to Bruno and Bucky shakes his head at you in friendly warning.

Girlfriend?

Your smile spreads across your face and for a split second you forget about the danger and violence. “Now, was that you the other night? Outside our door?”

You don’t know if want to hear the answer.

Bruno looks up and gives Zemo a smirk “If you didn’t want us to look, maybe you shouldn’t fuck so loud.”

You feel the heat rising up your neck. Knowing that he’s been watching makes you feel sick, but Zemo just smiles. “I don’t care about that. I mean after. I heard something in the hall. It was you. What were you looking for?”

Bruno hangs his head “Weapons. I needed to clear them out. I thought after all that, no way you’d come after me. You looked asleep. Not to mention I’m usually undetectable.”

Bucky’s fingers grip a little tighter and Bruno’s face contorts from the pain. “It’s like you really have no clue who you’re dealing with. You didn’t read his file? Ask around? Watch the damn news?” He asks confused as to how anyone on this ship couldn’t know of Zemo’s reputation.

Bruno just rolls his eyes— the poor stupid kid.

”What? To know that if I give them king of ptsd, some crime slut, and this fucking clown I never have to worry about shit again? I’m straight? No, I didn’t turn on the news or read any fucking files.” He mocks.

“James.” Zemo says standing straight. He doesn’t need to hear more.

“Yeah?” Bucky says, his face showing every ounce of rage you’re feeling.

“You’ve done enough here. I know you don’t wish to kill and I don’t wish to see you do it. Go to the top deck and please, take her with you.”

He looks confused. “Are you sure you can…”

“James.”

He nods and lets go of Bruno’s shoulder coming to you. “Thanks Oeznik, I’ve got it from here.” He assures the old man who goes to assist his master.

You let Bucky turn you around and lead you up and away from the things even Madripoor did not prepare you to see.

“What the fuck happened down there?” Bucky demands as you climb up. “I’ve never seen him look at you like that” Choosing to ignore Bruno’s sorry insults. In fact neither of you give the comments energy.

You realize you’re starting to shake, maybe you have been for a while, you can’t remember. It’s the shock setting in.

“I—I dont’ know. I just— um… I got scared. I got in my head,” You realize stepping up onto the deck. You glance over at your forgotten lunch and it’s sad now to see the food prepared by the man who tried to have you killed or taken in for a prize. “I thought they were coming for you. I stepped out of the room. I shot but, he shot her first and…”

“Her?”

“One of them was below. She came down looking for me. She could hear the others and when she heard them fighting with you through her earpiece she started to head up, I did what I thought I had to do I couldn’t let them kill you, or him… I had to stop them I had to do something I couldn’t just hide. I’m not the kind of person who hides Bucky I wasn’t raised like that. I fight you know? I don’t stand in corners hoping they will go away, I confront, I aim, I shoot— he yelled at me— he’s so angry.”

You don’t even realize Bucky has pulled you into his arms. He’s hushing you, smoothing his hand over your face and hair keeping your close. “It’s all right,” He says your name and you sink into his hold as he eases you down onto the couch by the wet bar and you let your eyes close as you listen to the sound of his heart steady in his chest.

“He told you to stay because he was scared that’s all. So was I. What the hell would we do if you got killed hunh?”

You shrug.

“Yeah, exactly.” He says, his tone cutting as a knifes edge. “What you did was careless but I understand. Try to calm down though, I’ll talk to him.”

You’re still shaking but not nearly as much after a few minutes, and then come the muffled sounds of a man crying. No, not crying, screaming. It makes your grip on Bucky’s shirt turn to fists and he holds you tighter. You cover your ears. This is good, it’s okay. Helmut’s just protecting us, Bruno and his crew have done the same. No. They would have done worse and our Baron is in a rage knowing that. You will tell yourself this as much as you need to until you feel calm.

Bucky’s warm and cold hands cover your own helping to block out all sound for some time and then he lets go, rubbing your arms a little.

You keep your hands over your ears but look up at him. “Is it done?”

The strangled pop of a silenced gun shot makes you both sit up straighter, turning in unison to look at the stairwell.

He doesn’t need to answer, you know now that it’s finished and Zemo must have gotten the answers he needs.

“I can’t believe the chef betrayed us” You whisper ducking down, letting your head drop between your arms and your fingers interlace behind your neck, pulling for the stretch.

Bucky sighs sounding angry. “I wish I could say the same but I was afraid of something like this.” He says and rubs your head “But it’s over now.”

“Get up!”

You both jump apart. Zemo is coming towards you wiping his hands on a towel.

“Whoa!” Bucky says on his feet standing between the two of you that quickly. “She’s really shaken up Helmut give her a minute.”

“A minute! You didn’t see what I did! She almost died!”

“What are you talking about? She said there was a woman and she tried to shoot her? Or something…”

“Yes and she would have died if I hadn’t been there to kill that woman first. She’s a terrible shot!”

“I am not!” You say with tears in your eyes.

He gives you a look that says otherwise as you stand. “This was not a game, this was not…fun. This was not…sex! This was your life! I gave you orders to follow to keep you safe. What part of that did you not understand!” His stream of angry Sokovian that follows is harsh and ugly.

You quickly brush the tears away. “You’re not a colonel anymore Zemo! This isn’t the army and I’m not one of your soldiers! I said I was sorry!” You turn away not sure if your feelings are hurt, if you’re just embarrassed or if you truly regret endangering yourself and them. Probably all of the above but he just keeps pushing!

Zemo steps forward like he’s going to start shouting at you again and you raise your chin, daring him to try. For every second of submission, you’ve got an hour of defiance just waiting.

He looks you over, sees the way your tears waver in your eyes, how your fist tighten at you sides and instead of shouting, he turns away “James. Help me. We have to get rid of the bodies.”

Bucky nods and looks back at you. “I’ll talk to him. Maybe have a glass of wine or something.” He suggests following Zemo back down.

You watch them go and drop down onto the couch, furious that he’s left you before the real fight could begin and for the first time since meeting him, you feel like just a woman.

You aren’t a terrible shot. He knows that, he’s being hurtful just for the hell of it.

Helmut will apologize. He will not make you feel like a foolish girl told to go to her room. And— maybe next time when he tells you to do something you’ll listen— if he asks nicely. You cross your arms refusing to calm or move until you remember the open bottle on the counter.

Fine. But if he doesn’t come back with an apology, Bucky will be helping with another body.

You’ve got a small buzz going by the time they come back up. Neither says a word and they part ways; Zemo going to pour himself a glass while Bucky comes over to the couch with a long sigh sitting beside you.

“Everything okay now ?” You ask.

He nods, eyeing Zemo. “Yeah. We took care of it. But…” He glances and you. “But you two need to talk.”

You watch Zemo take a sip of his bourbon, his eyes quickly darting over to look at you as he swallows.

“Fine but— only if he promises not to yell!” You shout.

Helmut rolls his eyes, hand slipping into his pocket as he walks over. “I won’t yell.” He says standing there looking down at you.

“Right. I’m going to go shower.” Bucky says and gets up.

He slides his warm right hand across Zemo’s stomach, pausing to look him in the eyes, “Just be honest like you were with me.” He says and you wonder what that means. Zemo nods and Bucky’s smile is surprisingly sympathetic as he kisses him gently and heads for the stairs.

When Zemo sits, he’s not close in fact he seems cold and cut off from you in a way he never has before and you feel a flash of fear course through you. Was it too much? Does he feel like you’re a liability now? If he dares to push you away…

He says your name and you look at him. “I’m sorry.” He says.

You don’t say anything.

“I should not have yelled at you like that.” He stops and rubs his face with his hand, takes another drink, and looks you over again. “I don’t know how else to say it but, I was afraid you’d been hit. I did the math, there were more shots than bodies and for a moment I thought I would see you both on the ground.” He pauses to sigh, flexes his jaw with the tension, and you know he’s struggling “That fast it all came back. Everything I lost before was as fresh in my mind as it was the day it happened.” Tilting his head to look at you he inhales sharply “When I saw you standing there, treating your life so casually I exploded. Again, I apologize.”

“Thank you,” You say frowning because you aren’t sure how to take this, “Casually? Helmut I hardly know what happened. I haven’t been in a situation like that in so long I think instincts just took over. And please— don’t get it twisted,” You say, your laughter incredulous as you lean away. “I did it to save you! To save you both! It wasn’t fun, it wasn’t some way of showing off, I had no idea how many people had come on board. All I knew was that you were both in serious trouble and she was on her way to help them. The people who were shooting at us. I had to stop her and I knew I could. I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t care” You laugh again just so shocked to hear him say such a thing.

He stares at you, eyes narrowed, brows knit too close, as if he needs to consider what you’re saying, as if you might not be telling the truth.

“Helmut… come on.”

He nods, relaxing just a little. “I know you care.” He gives in. You think it’s over but the way he takes a breath says he’s got something else important to tell you.

“When you started coming to my apartment in Madripoor, I thought you were fun, it was nice to have a distraction from the chaos in my life. Which by the way was very close to being imprisoned again at any moment. You’re beautiful, funny, sweet; and you listen very well.”

You smile in spite of yourself.

“And then it became more. Very quickly I realized I was falling in love with you but I did not want to. I confess I thought turning it into sex” He tosses his hand up “my… darkest fantasies, would keep it safely at surface level. But all it did was make me love you more.”

You never knew this.

“When you demanded I tell you how I really felt; because of course you knew, I was relieved to say it. But in confessing this, I gave up a part of myself. That safety in never having to lose someone again. I can not begin to tell you how terrifying it is to me to think of experiencing that twice in my life.”

You feel tears fall from your eyes instantly as they begin to pool in his.

“When I said for you to go below, I never doubted my ability to keep you safe. I would have killed every one of them on my own and still I had the fucking Winter Solider as back up should I have needed it.” He says making you laugh a little through your tears. He smiles too but it fades quickly to a frown of worry. “Please, please. Don’t ever do that again. In situations like this, you have to trust that I know what I’m talking about, that I can keep you safe.”

You nod wanting to go to him, but you wait. You look at Helmut, seeing the pain and fear expressed so perfectly in his eyes, bright in the midday sun. Eyes that have seen you in so many ways, and have loved you through it all. A thin tear finally spills over and streams down his face, “Never do it again.” He says, his voice gripped by the emotion.

“I won’t” You whisper so sorry for it.

“And I do know.” He adds defensively “I know you were only doing the same thing that I was,”

“Whats that?”

“Protecting the people you love.” He answers with a weak smile. He presses his finger to his lips, his hand still holding his drink as he stares at you. “But you understand I can’t lose you. I love you.” He says softly and reaches with the other hand, slipping his palm over your cheek.

You lick tears from your lips and hold his hand firm to your face.

“I love you so much Helmut. Im so sorry.”

He puts the drink down on the table without taking his hand from you. When he sits back up, he pushes the tears from his eyes with his thumb and middle finger and you feel him inch his hand along reaching further to the back of your head. Your eyes open wider with the guilt and submission you feel in your heart.

You let him pull you in, going onto your hands and raising your lips to his in a kiss that tastes like bourbon and love. He exhales against you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry too,” He answers softly and you know he means for what’s already happened today, and, for what he’s about to do.

You open your eyes ignoring that he’s just a blur this close up. You find his lips again and kiss him one more time because you understand where this is going and he needs confirmation that you want it too.

Without a word, you bring your legs up onto the couch to sit on your heels and bow your head. Want confirmed.

His deep but soft sigh of approval is drawn out. It rumbles in his chest making you smile ever so slightly.

Helmut takes you by the back of your neck again and pulls you over— after all, you should have listened, you should not have disobeyed him.

Crawling onto his lap, you move slowly, one hand and then the other laying down, feeling the air on your bare legs. Before all of this you’d been sitting around in your pajamas enjoying a wonderful lunch casually considering a swim.

Now you think of the other night when you’d used your safe word over fear of the lines blurring emotionally. They’ve never crossed like this before; pleasure yes, always— there were public orgasms in the dressing room and over dinner in New York when you’d worn those evil panties— but never punishment. Certainly not for real world mistakes.

You’re nervous and you wonder if he is too. If he is he doesn’t show it, you just feel his firm grip on your neck easing as he smooths his hand between your shoulders, and directs his attention downward.

This feels like a turning point in your relationship as a submissive woman, and you wonder, will it stay like this?

Helmut takes hold of your silk shorts running his thumb back and forth under the waist band to scoot them down one side at a time and slides them off so easily it’s like they were never there. He rubs his hand over the soft cotton of your underwear and you can feel the tension in his hand.

When will you know to stop and start? How far can it go? You don’t want to spend your days answering to a man and you won’t— but you do so love belonging to this one. You imagine getting into trouble for all sorts of fun things and your head starts to spin, so you focus on right now. And right now, the way it feels to lay across him —your stomach pressed against his strong thighs, your bottom up and presented— is wonderful.

Helmut glides his other hand down your back using both to pull your panties off slowly, just below the curve of your cheeks. It’s just barely sexual which only makes you pulse harder— you arch your back an inch more.

If this is the line you’re going to cross today, then you’re going to cross it with a properly smacked ass and a smile on your lips because Helmut loves you. And he’s doing this for your own good…

You bite your lip and close your eyes.

“Count them off to five.” He says, and you gasp lightly, the combined truth of his voice and what the number means sending a wave of panicked excitement through you and you reach to grab hold of the armrest.

He gives you a moment, his hand laid perfectly over the center of your ass. You raise you head, open your eyes and look to the sky. Your thin voice does nothing to deter him as you answer. “Yes Baron”

The first strike — centered across both cheeks and hard enough to make them bounce and you cry out, even though you tried not to— is as awful as the last and by the time he’s finished, your face is damp with tears as he holds you firm with his arm around your waist. He’d moved the to edge of the couch at some point and you can feel his deep breaths along your back and neck when he turns his head to look down at you from over his shoulder.

He’s got you right where he wants you on his lap, all ass and pussy and legs; the view must be making him mad because you’re ready to come just from the thought of it even with your skin on fire. The slippery response and involuntary pulsing of your exposed slit and tight entrance are proof of that.

“I didn’t hear you.” He says.

“Five.” You whisper finally able to say it.

He waits a beat then slides your underwear back up and over your burning skin, careful not to let it touch and lays his hand flat on your back for a moment feeling you breathe.

Neither of you moves.

“Will you listen to me next time?” He asks in that husky way that makes you feel so small.

“Yes Baron.”

Zemo taps your thigh and you slink away as he slides out from under you.

You drop to the couch with a shaking breath thinking you will never sit again when you feel the unexpected weight of his body over yours and his knee pushing your thighs apart.

Your panties are quickly pulled to the side where he keeps them secure with his thumb, the back view of your glistening divide making him moan softly and the air tickles your velvet skin, cooling the heat.

“Are you better?” He asks. “I don’t want to break you,"

You nod quickly.

The pleasure he takes in hearing it makes you close your eyes only to open them with the blinding shock of having him shove into your tight entrance.

Your scream is muffled by the couch. His sigh is heavy. You are both still. He hasn’t been inside of you in a couple of days.

“Are you mine?” He whispers laying over you, your ass still burning.

“Yes” You breathe beneath him.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours”

“And you’ll never leave me.”

You lift your head, the feel of him so thick and deep inside of you; but for once you put that aside to focus on what he’s just said. You turn and try to see him.

“Say it… please” He whispers.

You use your strength to force your upper half around as much as you can, there is no trying now, you need to see him. He’s strong, but so broken. “I promise I will never leave you.” You say and reach your left hand back over your shoulder to smooth your fingers down the side of his face.

He looks into your eyes and starts to move; drawing out, thrusting smoothly back in. “And if someone takes me from you?” You ask with a breath pressing your head to his.

“I pity them.” He says with a quiet but pointed laugh.

You smile wide and turn back around, hands flat, back arched, ass up, bottom lip between your teeth as he moans in your ear.

His hand darts out to grip the arm rest of the couch and you admire the veined muscle of his forearm just before he pushes your head down with the other and starts to slam into you so hard you can’t make a sound, you can do nothing but take it with a silent cry and your eyes shut tight. When you do find your voice, you make enough noise to alarm the loyal crew that’s left, although they are apparently already used to this.

When Helmut slides his other arm under your hips lifting you up just enough that he bottoms out once, twice and a third time you feel him go rigid, followed by the swell and release that matches his moan.

“Never leave me” He whispers once your lying still under him and you know he doesn’t mean it in the way that some men do. He’s begging you to stay alive, to be careful, to stay safe; because without you, Helmut Zemo would be lost.

Deep into that night, after you’ve all somehow managed to settle in spite of the chaos of the day, you stroke Bucky’s head hoping he can fall back sleep soon. He hasn’t had a nightmare in so long and if Bruno wasn’t dead already you’d kill him again just for bringing these memories back.

“Still awake?” Zemo asks coming into the room.

You look up from the nest of pillows and smile at him in his robe with a tray. He’s got tea for all of you. “Yeah.” You say scratching Bucky’s scalp.

He sighs into your lap and turns his head enough to watch. “What time is it?” He asks, his lips tickling your thigh. He’s pressed so close you haven’t moved an inch out of fear you’ll disturb an already disturbed man.

“Doesn’t matter” Helmut says placing the tray at the edge of the bed. “I brought you some tea.”

“Thanks” Bucky says but he doesn’t move, just turns his head back to you and sighs into your thighs again.

He didn’t go into detail but the dream had something to do with the brainwashing and you’re honestly glad he’s spared you the worst of it. It’s the part of his life that will never stop breaking your heart.

Zemo looks at you and you see the pain in his eyes too. He feels guilty. He has all day. He blames himself for Bruno of course. You knew he would, and a part of you understands why he does. For a brilliant man he did make a mistake in underestimating the appeal of money for a kid like that. Still, neither you nor Bucky would ever blame him.

Try convincing him of that.

He’s looking down at Bucky in your lap with his arm around your legs, his own body stretched out in the bed and you can see him admiring the beautiful view as much as he wants to comfort him.

Helmut reaches out and rubs his thigh just below the line of his black boxer briefs. “I would not have been able to do that without you today.” He says looking him over. “I’m sorry it happened, but I’m thankful it was you at my side for the simple fact that no one else could have ended that fight as quickly as you did. And remember James, you killed no one. That blood is on my hands. Every drop of it."

You’d been told how it went down some time after the makeup sex and before bed. Zemo made sure Bucky hadn’t killed anyone, just let him assist in catching them. Fighting them, knocking them out. It was Zemo who did the real dirty work.

Bucky is listening but he doesn’t move.

“Want some tea?” You ask.

“Sure” He says and Helmut sits up to pour it without being asked. “Its not so much the dream.” Bucky says with his head still down. “I just can’t relax, the memories always make me anxious. Like something really bad is going to happen at any second and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Well, I can see why you would think that.” You say watching as Bucky sits up and takes the cup and saucer.

He crosses his legs and takes a sip. At first you think it wont do anything, but then his shoulders sink just a little. “Is this…”

“Cherry blossom.” Helmut says with wry a smile, his eyes fixing on Bucky’s and a secret passes between them.

“What?” You ask looking from one man to the other.

Bucky laughs softly and sighs lowering the cup. “Nothing. You had to be there.”

“I knew you didn’t hate me then.” Helmut says reaching for Bucky’s leg a bit further down this time. He smiles fondly at the memory, his hand finding Bucky’s ankle, stroking the bone.

“What? No I definitely did.” Bucky tries but you see how his breath hitches in his chest at Helmut’s touch.

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did! You cross your arms and lean back grinning.

“No— you didn’t. I know you didn’t because if you did you would have hit me. You had the perfect opportunity to do it then, but you didn’t. Instead you made a mess; which by the way I had to clean up.”

“Serves you right.” Bucky says but his quick smile shows how much he doesn’t mean it.

Helmut shakes his head waving Bucky’s words away. “Hows the tea now?”

“Good, very good. I’m sorry I didn’t take you up on the offer the first time.” He says as some sort of very late apology.

Trying not to sound too smug Zemo just nods, his eyes smiling though his mouth turns down. “That’s what I thought.”

“You two and your stories.” You say with a huff, amused by their banter.

Bucky does laugh though and reaches over to grab your chin and pull you close, kissing your cheek.

“How are you feeling now?” Zemo asks.

He looks down into the tea for answers. “Better I guess, I dont know. It’s hard to just turn of the anxiety once it turns on. But— better? Maybe?”

Zemo nods for a moment understanding, but neither of you is convinced. “All right. Hand me the cup” He says sounding like he’s made up his mind about something.

“What?”

“Hand me your cup.”

Bucky glances at you but leans forward and gives Zemo his cup.

“Because I love you” The Baron starts, his hand gliding up Bucky’s tan, muscular leg as he leans over to set the cup on the tray. “Because this day was shit, and because I can not stand to see you suffering, I want to make you forget, at least for a little while.” He says and looks up into Bucky’s eyes.

You and Bucky are quiet as you watch him slide his hand under Bucky’s knees and pull. Not one to argue, at least not with his dom, Bucky goes down onto his back.

Zemo hovers over him glancing up just once to look in his eyes again as he slowly begins to slide Bucky’s underwear down.

No? Would he really? You know exactly where this is could be going and it��s not that you can’t imagine it— god you can imagine it in glorious detail— it’s just that he’s never shown any indication that he might do it, at least not yet. But oh what you wouldn’t give to see Helmut Zemo with another man’s cock in his mouth…

Bucky is watching from his back, his head raised, hands limp over his chest as he breathes hard. He’s frowning with the anticipation, he can’t believe it either but when Helmut reaches below the waist band and grabs hold to pull him free, Bucky drops his head with a gasp whispering “Fuck” Into the air.

Fuck indeed.

You sink down beside him laying your head on his shoulder content to just watch this rare sight.

Helmut sinks down onto his side, stroking Bucky’s length in a smooth fluid motion. He reaches to pull the waist band of his own briefs adjusting himself with a slight moan but keeps his focus on Bucky, turning his hand as he moves up and down a few times, and you catch him smiling when he hears Bucky response.

When he’s good and hard, Helmut lowers, and mouth meets hand, meets big throbbing dick and Bucky comes undone the instant Helmut sucks him in.

That high, tight moan from Bucky makes you bite your lip as you slide your hand over his chest watching with your own hungry eyes. Bucky grabs your arm panting and watching and you start to rub his chest a little, glancing back at him to flash a smile which he returns only to moan again.

Zemo is good. So good you wish you could feel what Bucky does as his abs and thighs flex. His eyes shut, his mouth opens. He doesn’t make a sound, just lets his head fall back again.

When Helmut pulls away to lick and tease and stroke before sucking him back in you nearly scream for the man, and you take your hand from Bucky’s chest and tuck it between your own legs.

“I won’t last,” Bucky’s says with his eyes shut tight.

Helmut has his hand on one of Bucky’s thighs, the other holds him at the base of his shaft so that he can suck his entire cock in long agonizing movements that make the man shake.

“Fuck… Helmut. youresogood!” Bucky mutters only to gasp hard and loud from some unseen magic worked. He sits up to watch and Helmut smiles around him working his length with both hand and mouth until the wet rhythmic sound makes you want to shove him aside and just ride the man.

“Can I? Please?” He begs but laughs when Helmut tickles some part of him you can’t see "Please… please!” He flashes smiles between moans into the air.

Zemo gives a single, throaty grunt, and you have to open your eyes and watch this, still in disbelief.

Bucky grips the sheets with his metal hand, the other fingers slide into the Barons hair as he thrust his hips forward again and again. You hear Helmut moan from it. He moans like you do…

Bucky is done.

He stays up, goes stiff and makes that soft, stunted sound he makes sometimes as he watches himself come in the mouth of the man who until now had never so much as hinted at allowing something like this to happen. You dare to reach out and touch Helmut— you want to feel him as he swallows. Your fingers slide through his hair and down towards his jaw, your fingertips catching the feel of movement at his throat as Bucky groans deeply and Helmut takes the last of his warm explosion in like he’s been doing this for years… maybe he has?

Your own sounds get Zemo’s attention and while his eyes stay closed he quickly lets go of Bucky’s thigh and grabs your wrist yanking you close which startles you but you come anyway.

Bucky sinks down into the bed with wild rasping breaths and Helmut slowly begins to pull away, letting go of your arm. He keeps his head down for a long moment, his hair hiding the look on his face and you wonder what it is he feels. You hope its nothing less than incredible.

When he looks up again, he drags his fingers over his mouth and smiles down at Bucky.

You both watch the soldier attempt to recover. When he finally opens his eyes, he looks like he might cry and quickly sits up reaching for Zemo, their lips crashing into a kiss.

“Thank you.” Bucky says as they part. “Thank you Helmut.”

Zemo gives a small nod but stays otherwise quiet as he holds him close.

“Do you feel relaxed.” He eventually asks, gently pushing Bucky back down.

You watch him lay beside you with a smile, your hand sliding over onto his shoulder and you kiss the warm curve.

“Actually… yeah. I do.” He says sounding pleasantly surprised and a little sleepy.

“Good. Rest. I’ll clean this up.” Zemo says nodding to the tray at the end of the bed.

“Okay.” Bucky says as Helmut starts to go. “Hey.”

He stops looking back.

“We love you.” Bucky’s grin makes you giggle as you look from him to the Baron.

Zemo tilts his head, his smile amused. “I love you too James. And you.” He says your name looking at you before he takes the tray and leaves you both to curl up together in the bed.

You try to listen to his footsteps, but all you hear, is the sound of Bucky softly breathing as he fades into sleep beside you.

A funny thing happens when you come so close to death. The most ordinary things take on a sweetness you might not have noticed otherwise.

This was not your first time experiencing this slightly morbid zest for life, but as you raise your glass to Zemo and Bucky in the awful heat of the boat’s kitchen, you know it’s for this exact reason that these last two days have maybe been a bit more fun than they should, given the attack.

Tonight, your last together as three, you’ve been working; tasting and testing, whipping up a dinner to share on this final night of the journey, and as you watch your lovely men playfully feed each other bites from the pots and pans, you sip your wine between chopping and dicing and let this memory become a lasting one, a perfect one that will get you through many moments of missing what you’ve had these past few weeks.

“Taste.” Zemo says turning to you with a spoon, the sauce for the pasta starting to drip from the wood but he catches it with his finger and you open your mouth sucking quickly. You both laugh a little, trying not to find it sexy even though it is.

Bucky watches over his shoulder, mixing the shrimp and sausage in the pan. “Salt?”

You shake your head, fingers to you lips. “No. it’s perfect.”

He nods looking back down at the simmering dish. “That’s the move that got us all here in the first place you know.” He says with one more quick glance back, his brow raised, smile tight but approving.

“What?” You ask him, your eyes still lingering on Zemo’s buzzed gaze as he looks you up and down. He seems to remember without any problem if that sexy, slightly suspect smile is any indication. That look and the apron he’s got tied around his waist will be your complete undoing… or maybe its all this heat going to your head. A little trickle of sweat highlights his temple and the drop tickling your neck makes you wish you were naked.

“That move. The finger in the mouth. On the plane. That was the first time I knew I was literally fucked.” Bucky says and laughs to himself.

He’s got your attention now and you look off thinking back. When it comes to you, it sends a shiver through your lower half. Yes, Zemo showing his dominance over you, and then the orgasm in the back of the plane. God everything had been so wonderfully simple then. You honestly miss those days. “That feels like a lifetime ago.” You say with a dreamy sigh.

“It practically was.” Zemo says leaning against the counter his wine in hand.

“And look how far we’ve come.” Bucky says teasing.

“I think we’ve done all right given our combined histories.” You say defending all three of you.

“Agreed.” Zemo quickly chimes in. “Are you saying you were better off before James?”

He looks back at the two of you and keeps stirring. “No, of course not. But, I never thought I’d be cooking dinner on a yacht with my… my.”

“You’re what?” You ask leaning forward. You realize he’s never actually said it. Zemo was the first the other day— to a man he then killed.

“Go on.” Zemo pushes.

“You know.” Bucky frowns and turns back to the stove top.

“No, please, elaborate.”

Bucky huffs. “My, convict boyfriend and my accomplice girlfriend.” He says with a snarky laugh and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t deflect.” You say.

“Bucky turns the fire down to let the food simmer and wipes his hands on the kitchen towel turning to grab and raise his beer. With a deep sigh, he looks first to you then Zemo and comes to lean his metal hand on the counter and raises his glass high. “Okay okay. A toast then. I’ll do it properly.”

You grin and raise you glass, Zemo does the same.

“To my, incredible, beautiful, brilliant, sexy, funny, sometimes kind of scary and very bossy boyfriend.” He kisses Zemo’s cheek but Zemo turns his head to kiss his lips and you love to see it. Bucky pulls back, his eyes a little hazy from the effects of being kissed like that but he clears his head and looks at you “And to my stunning, hilarious, dance partner, Netflix binging best friend, the woman that I love and will love always, my girlfriend.”

He leans in and kisses you and its sweet and good and all you can do to keep from crying.

“To our last night.” He says softly when he’s up and looking at you both again.

“To our last night.” You and Zemo say together, the three glasses tapping in the light of the kitchen fire.

...MEANWHILE

The deal with that idiot kid Bruno had been made before their little pleasure cruise ever left shore, so given the date, the deed should have been done.

One problem.

No Zemo.

That could mean one thing and one thing only. The powers that be had of course underestimated the Baron.

Valentina tried to tell them. She’d laid it out plainly, but the bastards just didn’t want to hear it.

“You have everyone’s attention now Helmut. We’re all listening.”

#fatws #zemo fatws #winterbaron #zemo x reader #bucky barnes x reader #baron zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #zemo x female reader #winterbaron x you #action #the winter solider #baron helmut zemo

19 notes · View notes