#old rugged cross got me fucked up!!!!!

[selcouth-vast-poet]

i am going to kill a priest named obrien who wants to join

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

my love if i may request a whiskey with dbf!joel or dbf!bucky with the prompt “i’ve wanted this for so long” and mayhaps if it’s not too much to ask for but some breeding kink👀👉🏻👈🏻

Promises, Promises.

warnings - smut. cursing.

I figured I'd make this dbf!bucky, because i've done a dbf!joel fic for this celebration already. y'all, I read the words dad's best friend and go fucking feral. this one got away from me.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

You're the last person Bucky expected to be at his front door at 3am.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Locked myself out of my goddamn house, and my parents are still on vacation. Can I crash here tonight? Please?"

Who is he to turn down an offer that tempting?

"Course. Come on, it's too cold for you to be stood out here."

The two of you sit down on his couch, settling in to watch some TV.

"Bucky Barnes. Are you watching a romcom?"

He blushes, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks.

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. They're my guilty pleasure."

"It makes me like you more, if anything," you grin. He can't help but smile back at you, less embarrassed now.

"Look, my love life is fuckin' terrible. I live vicariously through these cheesy films right now."

"You? Terrible love life? Those two phrases don't usually go in the same sentence."

You're teasing him. Seeing if you can get a rise, hit the right button.

"Oh, shut it. Just because you're on a new date every week."

"I'm... what?"

"Your Dad seems to think you're dating a lot."

You quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips.

"Is that so?"

"I'm only telling you what I've heard, honey."

He crosses his arms across his chest, biceps threatening to break free from the confines of his t shirt.

"He's wrong."

"Is that so?"

You roll your eyes.

"I have a friend, he's a guy. My Dad automatically assumes we're dating because we hang out. But we're not."

"And why not?"

"I don't know, I guess he's just..." you debate your answer, realising it's now or never. "He's not old enough for me. Not mature enough."

Bucky bites his lip, eyes scanning your face.

"He's your age."

"Exactly. Boys my age don't know shit."

He laughs, but it's dark and low, something brewing beneath the surface.

"You always were too smart for your own good, huh?"

Bucky's thigh is pressing into yours, the warmth from his skin seeping through. His rough fingertips glide across your arm, slow and soft. He's testing the waters.

"I shouldn't want this," he murmurs, barely audible. "Neither should you."

"But I do," you whisper. "So fucking bad."

"Me too."

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, smashing his lips to yours. You grip at his hair, his biceps, his shirt - anything you can get a hold of. You feel like you're dreaming, your filthiest thoughts coming into fruition.

He pulls you into his lap so you're straddling his hips, grinding down and panting into his mouth. You're both breathless, but neither of you want to be the first to pull away.

Bucky rips your shirt over your head, instantly attacking your chest with kisses. He's marking you up, claiming you as his. You should be worried about the repercussions, but you're not.

You pull his shirt off and rake your nails down his front, grinning when he shivers. Suddenly, Bucky stands up, setting you on your feet.

"Strip."

You blink at him, processing.

"Strip, baby. I won't tell you again."

You shimmy your pants down your legs, your underwear going too. Your mouth waters as you watch him undress, admiring the angles and smooth ridges of him. A Greek God.

Bucky stalks over to you and hooks a foot behind your ankle, sending you both flying onto the rug on the floor. He cushions your fall, not letting go of you once. Running two fingers through your wet heat, he groans.

"All for me, pretty girl? What did I do to deserve somethin' this sweet, huh?"

"Need you," you whine. "Please, Buck."

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, lining himself up. "Fuck, you're a dream."

You both gasp as he slides home, your back arching and his jaw falling slack. Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, the weight grounding you back down to Earth.

"Need you to move," you choke out. "Fuck, I need it, Buck. Please."

"Oh you need it, do you?" he smirks. "My needy girl."

He snaps his hips into yours in long, careful glides, very aware of the effect he has on you. Before long, his restraint snaps, and his thrusts get harder, quicker, more frantic.

"Gonna fill you up, baby," he's muttering under his breath. "Make you mine. You want that? To have everyone know who you belong to?"

You're nodding rapidly, tears gathering in your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

"How are we gonna keep this a secret if you're pregnant, huh?"

The thought makes you moan, a breathy, gutteral sound.

"You like that? Want me to make you a mommy? Fuck, I'll give you everything you ask for. I'll buy you a house and knock you up, you'll never want for anything."

His low, honeyed words throw you over the edge, squeezing and clenching around him. Bucky groans, deep and rumbled, the sound vibrating through the both of you. You find your releases together, panting and out of breath.

"House first."

"Huh?" he breathes, raising his head from your chest.

"Buy me a house first. Kids second. Maybe marriage in between."

He laughs, floating and content. You both know he meant what he said, not just a heat of the moment confession.

You stay wrapped up in each other for hours, on the rug in front of the fire.

You'll deal with the repercussions later.

[rinsoap]

➣ includes : boyfriend!matsukawa issei. and lord this is sooo suggestive but it never crosses into actual smut, it's just.. kind of intense making out and hickeys. this is probably ooc but I DONT CARE! HE'S SEXY OOC!!!

note : for my love @angelkiyo bc she gave me some inspo n i luv her <333 i got totally off track from ur original idea about mattsun n makki eating crazy edibles so yeah ummmm......

"let me know if you like it" matsukawa issei grins at you, waiting for you to eat the cookie in your hand held above your head. you're splayed across his bed, head hanging off it, turned to face your boyfriend. he's close to you but sitting on his rug with his back leaning against his bed. his arms rest on his knees, head lazily lolling back, copying how you've turned to face him.

you inspect the chocolate chips warily. last time you and mattsun got baked, it had you talking to the frank ocean poster on his wall for an hour and then going completely silent, no talking, for the rest of the night. staring at the wall silently while you desperately tried to regain your composure had become a common occurence when getting high. mattsun suggested you should slow down on it, and you agreed. but recently, you had been incredibly stressed, and it had been a a month or two since you had given up weed. so when your boyfriend proposed a sesh to help ease your mind, you happily accepted. that didn't mean you weren't having at least some reservations.

"i know you've been greening out on the old shit," he takes a bite, "that's why i got a new plug. i haven't greened out yet, but i know you're low tolerence."

"you didn't have to do that, 'sei" your eyebrows raise, flattered that he would go to the trouble to do something as tedious as that.

"anything for you, pretty girl," he shrugs, and gives you a small kiss, pulling back with a lazy smile that was enough to make you feel out of it without even eating the cookie, "and i didn't really fuck with the other dude anyways, always getting my stuff late. this new guy has edibles which is so much better than having to bake it myself"

you gasp. "i thought you liked baking them with me!" you roll over onto your stomach, folding your arms to rest your chin on them, pouting. "aw baby, don't pout," he pokes your cheek, "y'know i like baking with you, we can just bake something normally." you try not to smile which only makes his grow wider. "now eat that quick i wanna go see a movie" he nods to the cookie still in your hand, and you take a bite, emphasizing each chew sarcastically. "okay but if i start tripping out trying to kiss frank ocean again it's your fault"

"i'll break you guys up, no problem. i can't have you kissing him"

"what? are you jealous?"

"yeah, of you. as soon as i break you guys up, it's my turn to kiss him. i'll defend his honour and everything"

"i can't believe you would choose frank ocean over me- you know what just... go grab your keys."

mattsun pulls into the drive-in movie, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. you continue to demolish the burger in your hand, a big grin on your face to see the movie playing was jennifer's body. "i love this movie!!" you exclaim through bites as megan fox holds a lighter to her tongue. "yo slow down" matttsun laughs and grabs the fast food bag from your lap. that pulls your gaze away from the movie to him as you lick your fingers clean from sauce, then widen your smile. "thank you for the food, baby"

he doesn't know what it is, but that has him feeling some type of way. maybe it's the weed, or maybe it's the fact that you just look so good right now. tank top spaghetti strap lazily slipping off your shoulder and little shorts riding up your thighs, makeup marinated and lip liner almost entirely smeared off under the gloss. he wanted to kiss it completely off, he wanted to slide both straps off your shoulder, he wanted you.

his pupils dilate even more, and he leans over to kiss you. your initial surprise dissipates into comfort as you melt into his touch. you tuck a stray curl behind his ear at the same time his hand goes to rest on the back of your neck. "mm, what was that for?" you giggle when he pulls away. "you just had a lil somethin' on your lips. had to get it for you"

"you're so sweetttt," you're drawing out your words, feeling dizzy from his sudden kiss, "you're sooo good to me" he love how affectionate you can be with your word when high. you refocus on the movie with a content expression on your face.

"you're so cute. i just kissed you, that's all." he muses, and he breaks your attempted concentration on the movie with a kiss to your neck. as he sucks a purple mark into your soft flesh, your breath hitches. "issei..."

"you're so sensitive like this." you can feel his teasing smile against your skin, and you internally roll your eyes. as if he isn't equally sensitive. he doesn't try to hide it, a small groan leaving his lips when his hand returns to its place on your thigh and you grip his forearm. the noises you're making has him feeling lightheaded, and he can't get enough of you. "'sei please can't you see i'm trying to watch a movie?" you complain while you lean into his touch especially when his thumb rubs on your skin. your thighs close on his hand, and he smirks, still pressing small blooming bruises into your neck. "'m sorry baby, i just can't get enough of you"

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 3

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.8k words - A03 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, established throuple, relationship issues, eating issues, depression, anxiety, angst, reader is bad at feelings, caretaking, bathing, blow jobs, face fucking, praise kink, emotional hurt/comfort. The guys find you at the hotel.

When you open the door, Johnny’s heart breaks. 

It’s obvious you haven’t been well. The circles under your eyes are sickly and off color, worse than when you stay up to wait for them to get home, and you look weary, overwhelmed, exhausted. Your hair is stiff, pulled out of your face but heavy around your forehead, and your skin is dry, an easy tell that you haven’t been drinking enough water. Johnny suspects that your clothes are dirty as well, judging by the stain on the front of your shirt above your breasts, and his heart skips when he realizes it’s his old t shirt, the one you usually wear around the flat. It all makes Johnny’s head spin, makes him feel like he’s got a thousand pounds sitting on his chest and when he looks closer, he can just see the broken capillaries spreading across your cheeks like spider’s webs. Did they do this to you?

“Oh, love.” He whispers. Your eyes water, and he feels the weight of his own fear, his own sadness tenfold. You’re hurting. You’re hurting so badly. How did they not see this? 

“Let us in.” Simon demands, and you chew on your lip. “Please. Whatever it is, we can fix it darling. Just let us in.” Simon’s voice softens, slipping into something he only reserves for you, and Johnny reaches for your hand, it’s ice-cold chill startling against his own.

When you don’t pull away from him, a small seed of hope blooms in his heart.

Something wakes him from his sleep. Maybe it’s the low drone of the television from the living room, or the fact that the middle and left sides of the bed are completely empty. He sits up, groggily, straining to listen, but all he hears is the laugh track of a sitcom. 

When he enters the living room, he raises an eyebrow. Simon is sitting in his boxers, on the floor, back against the couch, remote in one hand, and your hand in other. Your fingers look so small intertwined with his, your arm draping down over his shoulder from where you’re lying on your belly, mouth open, dead asleep. He rubs his eyes. 

“What’s this?” He keeps his voice low. 

“She couldn’t get back to sleep. Didn’t want ta wake you, but she was keepin’ me up, thrashing around.” Johnny frowns. He traces a thumb across your forehead, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Simon strokes his fingers up his thigh, rubbing the back of his leg, his skin hot in the thick of the summer night. He glances at the clock on the stove before settling on the rug too, notching his head next to your arm, and Simon shifts to accommodate him before turning to press his lips against his forehead. 

“Was it a nightmare?” 

“She’s still havin’ em.” Simon whispers, and he leans to pull him closer. “Didn’t want to talk about it.” He sighs. 

“What’re we watchin’?”  

You settle on the edge of the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest, eyes unmoving from the floor. Simon stands against the dresser directly in front of you, arms crossed, body stiff and thrumming with concern, strung tight with stress. The room is quiet, lit only by a small lamp that you have flicked on, and he tries not to look too closely at anything, at this place you’ve been living in when you should have been at home. 

“Love?” Johnny clears his throat, sitting down next to you, tilting his head to catch your gaze. He avoids looking at your blood crusted cuticles, or the crescent moon marks that are imprinted in your palms. “When was the last time you ate?” You shrug.

“Yesterday.” Simon shifts his weight, as in tune to the waver in your voice, the tell of the lie, as Johnny is. He shoots Johnny a look, before going down on a knee in front of you, hands gentle, a palm cupping your calf and giving it a squeeze before releasing. You don’t pull away. A knot of tension releases between the two of them.

“Will you tell us why you left?” Johnny tries to keep from pleading, but he knows he will beg you if he has to. Beg you to tell him why, beg you to come home, beg you to let them back in. Your eyes dart back and forth between them, your fingers nervously pulling at the ends of your hair, and Simon cuts him a stern look, a very clear message: Slow the fuck down. Don’t push her. Tears drip over your cheeks onto your knees and then your voice cracks.

“You were g-gone for almost thirty days. What if, what if you never came back? What if you just picked up and left? Started over? You ha- have each other… you don’t need me.” A chasm splits open inside Johnny, splintering across the three of you, the weight of your fear and doubt bubbling to surface, pushing past the truths they’ve worked so hard to make you see.

“We could never do that. You’re a part of us.” Simon’s tone is serious. 

“You mean the world to us, darling. We don’t want to live in it without you.” Johnny says, fingers grazing along your shoulder.

“Don’t lie.” You croak, and he frowns.

“He’s not lying.” Simon says but you don’t respond.

“We love you.” Johnny whispers, and your eyes slam shut, tears spilling out between your lashes. “You know that, don’t ya?”

“N-no.” you cover your face with your hands.

“Yes, you do.” Simon pulls one of your hands away from your face, taking it in his own. “I know it’s hard, when we’re away-”

“No you don’t!” you sob as you cut him off. “You have each other! You always have each other. I f-feel… I feel like I’m on the outside.” Your breath hitches. “I always feel like that.” You tell them miserably and Johnny’s heart breaks for you.

“You’re supposed to talk to us, when you’re feelin’ bad about things.” Simon’s voice is gentle, as he tries to soothe you, tries to ground you. “Look at me, darling.” You turn your head, eyes up and full of trust, searching between the two of them.

You still trust him. You still trust Simon. There’s hope. 

“I know.” You whisper.

“It doesn’t work unless we’re honest, and we tell each other how we’re feeling, even when it’s like this.” Johnny keeps his tone soft, but it’s heavy with emotion, drowning beneath your own sadness, the feeling of your despair.

"I know that. I do… but it doesn’t change anything.” Panic erupts through his veins like he’s been doused with cold water. Doesn’t change anything? Doesn’t change what? That you left? “It won’t change the fact that I’ll always feel like this… like I’m separate from you.” You blink furiously, tears trickling down your cheeks, chest heaving with shallow breaths, and Johnny feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“Alright, darling. That’s okay.” Simon settles you, and Johnny gives him an incredulous look. Alright? Alright?! On a base level, he knows what Simon is doing, but it does nothing to quell the storm of feelings rising inside of him. They could lose you. What if they can’t fix this?  “Johnny’s gonna get ya some food.” He grimaces and pulls his phone free to search for the room service menu, looking for something that will be easy on your stomach without overwhelming you. “D’you think you could manage a shower while we wait for it to be brought up?” He holds his breath. You could say no. You could tell them to get out. It took your deepest level of trust, to let them care for you like this, and in this moment, it felt like it wasn’t there.

When you don’t say anything in response and nod instead, he lets the air leak from his nose slowly.

“A bath.” You whisper, eyes still trained on the floor. You look at them intently for a moment before you get to your feet without another word and disappear into the bathroom. When the door clicks shut, Johnny whirls.

“I want to take her home. She’s not thinkin’ clearly.”

“We have to go at her pace, you heard what she said.” Something sad flickers across Simon’s face before he smooths it away. “She needs time, to remember. That’s all.” He tries to reason, and Johnny knows he’s right, but he can’t fight the burning sensation in his chest when he thinks about how you’ve been alone, in this room, for the last week and half, falling apart without them.

“Si. She…”  He doesn’t have to finish the sentence.

“I know, Johnny. I know.” His partner’s fist is clenched around the balaclava, eyes tight with worry. They both look towards the closed door, and then Johnny glances down to the glaring light of his phone.

“There’s no soup.”

“Toast?”

“And a fried egg, if she can get it down.” Simon gives a curt nod of agreement, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get it sorted. Yeah?” Johnny presses his nose to Simon’s neck and takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“Yeah.” He motions to the bathroom. “Join ya in a minute.”

By the time he has the food ordered, you’re already sitting in the tub, water thundering from the faucet, knees pulled back up under your chin, skin dotted with goosebumps. There’s enough room for him to get in behind you, like he usually does, but he doesn’t want to push you, so he reminds himself to be patient. Simon is sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, murmuring something softly that you’re occasionally nodding at until you speak.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” You croak.

“It’s alright, darling. We’re just happy you’re safe.” Simon reassures, and when you don’t say anything else, panic swirls in the pit of Johnny’s stomach. Be patient. He needs to be patient. 

He can be patient, but he doesn’t have to fight fair. Not when it comes to you.

“Can I wash your hair?” he asks you sweetly, and you nod almost immediately. Later, he hopes, once you’ve pulled out of this and you’re all together again, you’ll give him shit about using your weakness against you like that. He hopes. 

You tilt your head back eagerly, eyes slipping closed while the tips of his fingers massage your scalp, and he alternates between soft and firm pressure, making sure he gets the lather as deep into your roots as gently as he can.

“I missed you.” It’s barely a whisper, a light whistle on your lips, but they both hear it, and Simon reaches for your hand, large fingers folding over yours, his touch gentle and slow while Johnny rubs the pad of his thumb along your shoulder blade before he speaks.

“Not as much as we missed you.”

“Oh shit.” You giggle from where you sit between Johnny’s legs and he presses his palm to your mouth playfully, lips grazing along your shoulder. Simon’s footsteps thunk down the hall, his voice calling both of your names. 

“Shhh.” Johnny murmurs, the warm bath water wrapping the two of you in a soft, sublime feeling that’s gone straight to his head. When the bathroom door swings open, you raise an arm like you’re dancing, and beam. 

“Welcome home!” Johnny tries not to laugh at the serious expression on Simon’s face, and he snakes an arm around your middle to pull you all the way back into his chest. 

“Having a relaxing day?” Simon dead pans, and you nod, back of your head against Johnny, face turned upward to stare at Si who’s dressed in uniform, no doubt completely exhausted after a long day of travel to the ‘local’ office and back. Water beads off your skin when you push off from Johnny to rise to your knees, and he can’t help but reach out and trace a line across your hip while your palm slides up the front of Simon’s pants, leaving wet spots in its wake as you lick your lips. Johnny leans all the way back, fitting into the curve of the tub, arms on either side, and watches you pull the zipper down to free Simon’s cock from his briefs. When you glance back at him, he gives you a smile in return, excitement settling in his stomach as he watches you, his own hand sinking beneath the surface of the water to palm his cock, his eyes never leaving where you’re stroking Simon, your head tipped backwards and eyes up. 

“Darling…” Simon grunts, the word a harsh exhale, and your mouth cracks into a smile where you’re wrapped around him, your tongue flat against your teeth, jaw relaxed as you work. His hand drifts down to the top of your head when your lips part around length of his cock and a shiver runs down Johnny’s spine, the weight of love, of adoration vibrating in his bones.

His. This was his. You were both his. 

Your free hand reaches for him in the water, and he laces his fingers in yours with a reassuring squeeze before sitting up on his knees himself, his body pressing against you, gentle fingers wrapping around your throat to still your motion. 

“Hold still, darling.” He coaches, reaching for Simon’s belt loop to pull him closer, folding his grasp along his hip until he’s pressing into the back of your mouth. “Fuck her throat, love. That’s what she wants.” You try to nod enthusiastically, and Johnny chuckles, brushing a kiss across your cheekbone. “Isn’t she sweet?” He asks, and Simon’s hand tightens in your hair, just a tad, enough to hold you steady as he begins to rock his hips back and forth. “That’s it.” He encourages, hand never leaving Simon’s hip, the other still gently cradling your throat. He talks Simon through it the entire time, his own cock hard against the curve of your ass, his thumb occasionally smearing across your lower lip. “Fuck, Si.” He marvels, “Doin’ so good for her. Givin’ her what she wants.” He releases Simon’s hip and strokes a finger down your lower belly and across your thighs before teasing your clit, and your breath stutters through your nose when he presses against the swollen bud, your body tensing against his. He noses along your jaw while he works your clit in a circle, matching his rhythm to Simon’s pace. You make a strangled sound in your throat when Simon slows, and Johnny smirks, mirroring the speed until you’re whimpering, throat stuffed full and your thighs trying to rub together around his hand. He’s not going to let you come, not yet, so he pulls away and you whine, eyes widening in protest, but you stay steady, jaw lax to accommodate Simon, and Johnny praises you. “Good girl. Takin’ him so well.” Simon grunts, and then his mouth drops open as his hips begin to thrust unevenly until he’s coming, a little moan slipping from you when he spills down your throat. 

He bends to kiss you afterwards, swiping his tongue into your mouth, lavishing you slowly until you’re pulling at his belt loops again. 

“Want to get in?” 

“You know I won’t fit, darling.” He perches on the side of the tub, leaning down to brush his lips against Johnny’s, fingers dipping into the heat of the water. 

“Well?” Johnny prompts, and Simon grimaces, watching you as he speaks. 

“Tomorrow. Sixteen hundred.” He feels your muscles go tense, your languid state draining from your body, tension running through you in its place. He squeezes your arm affectionately, pressing a kiss above your ear. 

“It’s alright, love. Won’t be too long.” 

“It’s the apartment.” You say quietly from where you’re now laying on the bed, wrapped in a robe with your hair twisted into a towel. You eye the pieces of toast that are on the tray with a sigh. He holds one out to you, like an offering, and your lower lip trembles. “My stomach hurts.” you protest.

“I know it does, love. But you’ll feel better after this, I swear it.” Your hand reaches for his, and his heart��soars, but he tempers his relief quickly. “Please? For me.”

“What about the apartment?” Simon interrupts and a shadow moves across your face.

“It was yours, before. It feels like I don’t belong there, sometimes.” Like you don’t belong? The contrast startles him, forcing his spine straighter and he considers your words. How could you possibly believe you don’t belong? 

“Then we’ll get a new one.” He blurts, without even fully thinking it through. He only knows he’s desperate to reassure you, desperate to show you that they’d do anything for you. Your face shifts, from forlorn to hopeful, surprise crinkling the corners of your eyes as you glance between them.

“We’ll get a new one.” Simon agrees, and Johnny presses your knuckles to his lips. “You do belong, darling. You belong with us.”

[meetmymouth]

you, me, teddy, and baby

an extra from the series ‘theadora’. read everything here!

notes: talks of pregnancy/pregnancy tests. read the last part of theadora HERE !! 

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you… Happy birthday dear Teddy, happy birthday to you!

Harry lowers his phone just enough to call for Theadora. “Make a wish, T!”

“Harry, fix the candle,” she says, making Harry turn to her as Thea looks between her parents. “The ‘five’ looks crooked.”

This makes everyone in the room laugh, and Harry does what he’s told– but not before rolling his eyes.

She knows he doesn’t mean it, and she knows they’ve been really stressed recently, between Thea having problems at school and a couple of leaked songs from Harry’s old albums.

It’s been peaceful, though, being a family. She knows what everyone’s saying online– knows what they’re talking about, but she stopped caring a long time ago. As soon as she stopped looking her name up, or Harry’s, things have been a lot easier; life, together, as a family, has been easier.

They still have ups and downs, like most couples do, but they manage. She knows whatever happens, Harry has her back– their backs.

He’s been off tour for a while, and they spent most of their time travelling as a family. They went to all the places Harry has been without them by his side, ‘I want to experience it with you two’, and when they came back to London last year, he finally asked her to move back in– officially. They renovated parts of his house, and Theadora got a new bed, and a whole different room. She picked what colour she wanted for her walls, her furniture, and after countless tantrums over rugs and chest of drawers, she couldn’t have been happier with her new bedroom.

“You Styles’ can’t go a day without glitter, can you?” Jenny laughs into her glass of wine, and Y/N turns her attention to her– she’s admiring the jumpsuit she’s got on.

She smiles. “I’m not a ‘Styles’, remember?”

“My bad,” Jenny grins. “Would be nice though, no?”

Y/N hums. “Maybe.”

She takes a sip from her own glass, but the taste suddenly feels too bitter on her tongue. Deciding against drinking more, she places it on the table behind her, and excuses herself to walk towards where Harry and Theadora are standing, surrounded by friends and family.

Thea is talking about her favourite friend in Year One, and Harry nods along, turning to the group around them with a proud smile.

“And,” Harry notes, “She got the trophy for lining up beautifully this week,” he adds, squeezing Thea’s cheeks with both hands.

The five-year-old grins, and Y/N doesn’t have the heart to correct Harry, ‘it’s for the whole class, H, not just Teddy’.

She joins the group, but Harry’s arm finds her before his eyes do, and he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, squeezing her hip. He presses a kiss on her temple, and she smiles.

“Hi,” she squeezes the hand on her hip, and her own hand finds the top of Thea’s head, ruffling the curls.

Thea looks up, and smiles, big teeth reminding her of Harry’s, and she matches her smile, squeezing her warm cheek.

“Hi, cutie.”

“Can I stay at auntie Gemma tomorrow?”

“It’s a school night, Teddy,” she smiles.

Thea’s smile falls. “But daddy said I could,” she mutters, lips pursing.

Y/N looks up at Harry, and she almost laughs at the face he’s pulling.

“Well,” she begins, squeezing Harry’s hip. “Daddy should’ve asked mummy as well, yeah? We’ll talk about it tomorrow after school, yeah?” She strokes the side of her face. “How’s that sound?”

.・゜

Tea. Lots of tea and fruit pastilles.

Harry watches from his side of the bed, glasses on– hand holding a novel. He looks puzzled, eyebrows raised and his mouth parted as she devours the last of her fruit pastilles.

“Y/N?” Harry calls, voice wavering between worried and amused.

She looks up, cross-legged on the edge of the bed. “Yes?”

“Fruit pastilles at eleven o’clock at night?”

A raise of her eyebrows, and he knows he’s fucked up.

“So?”

He clears his throat. “Are you okay?”

“What the fuck, Harry?”

“Babe, what–”

“Stop watching me– stop watching me eat and drink,” she throws the empty bag at him, and he dodges it even though it falls nowhere near him. “You’ve been watching me all night– watching my every move.”

“Babe,” he lets out a surprised laugh. “What? I haven’t been doing that…”

“Mhm,” a vigorous nod. “You have! Are you calling me fat?”

“Look,” Harry places his book on her side of the bed. “I’m sorry. I just– I know you don’t normally like eating stuff before bed, it makes you uncomfortable; that’s why I’ve– never mind. I would never, ever call you fat,” he shakes his head.

He walks over to her, arms wide open as he wraps them around her, and she lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she says, words ushered against his warm, naked chest. She places her hand where his heart is. “I’ve been really awful lately, I know.”

“You haven’t,” he whispers into her hair. He kisses below her ear, earning a giggle from her.

“You can be honest.”

“You haven’t been awful. Just…”

She looks up, eyebrows raised.

Harry continues. “Just… on edge?”

“Hm.”

“Come on,” he sighs, kissing her nose. “Let’s sleep.”

She nods. “Be back in a sec, need to pee.”

She watches him nod, and walk over to his side of the bed and open the duvet properly before getting in. He’s placing his book on his bedside table when she’s closing the door to the ensuite.

She doesn’t know what possesses her to reach the pregnancy tests at the bottom of the small storage box where she keeps her useless stuff in. She knows she was extremely moody and she ate things she wouldn’t normally eat when she was pregnant with Theadora.

Opening the package, she takes a deep breath, and sits on the toilet. It takes a few seconds to do her business, and she waits with the test in her hand before she can wash her hands.

Her period has been late, she knows, though it’s never been regular for her. Couple of days late meant nothing usually– at least for her.

The hidden tests have been on her mind since yesterday, though she hasn’t been up to it until tonight.

The test forgotten by the sink, she thinks of the possibility of being pregnant again. She knows Harry wouldn’t be upset, though she can’t help but feel anxious over the possibility of him not being ready, or even worse: what if he only wanted one?

She knows he loves Teddy, and she knows he loves children, but were they ready for it all over again? Especially now that things have been so good between them…

“Y/N?” Harry knocks on the door, and she jolts forward, as if someone’s pushed her into the sink.

It’s when she remembers the pregnancy test, and she grabs it, holds it up, and her eyes begin tearing up at the result.

Another knock, and the door is pushed open, revealing Harry.

“Are you okay? I was worried when you didn’t answer,” he murmurs, clearly sleepy.

When she doesn’t answer, the stick hidden in her palm, Harry takes a step towards her, and he places his hand on her cheek.

“Baby?”

“Harry,” she murmurs, tears running down her cheeks. “Harry.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt– did you fall? I didn’t hear anything–”

“Harry.”

“What? What’s happening?” He looks around, then searches her face. “You’re scaring me.”

“Harry,” she says, for the final time. She places the test on the counter, and watches Harry’s gaze fall where it lays on the grey marble.

“What is that– is that...”

“Yes.”

He looks up, eyes glimmering. “What– you’re– when? What’s it say…” he whispers, but he doesn’t reach for it– perhaps, he’s scared, too.

Oh God, she thinks, he hates me.

“I–”

“Oh my fucking God, Y/N,” she looks up from her socked-feet, and watches Harry analyse the stick.

His eyes are wet, lips wobbly like the time Theadora fell and grazed her knee, but despite all of that, his green eyes are so shiny– they glint under the mellow light of their bathroom.

“Baby,” he looks up, trying to find her wavering gaze. “Baby, look at me– did you look? Did you see?”

“Harry…”

“What? What is it?”

She lets out a sob, the anxiety and the after-taste of the fruit pastilles becoming too much. “I’m pregnant.”

Harry lets out a choked laugh. “Why– why are you crying, oh my God.”

Oh my God.

“Are you angry?”

“What? Fuck– come here,” he places the test on the counter, and grabs her cheeks. He presses kisses all over her face. “Are you– are you upset?”

“I don’t know– you–” she shakes with another sob, but laughs at the same time.

“Y/N,” he places his hands on her shoulders. “Are you upset? Did you– do you not want this?”

“I do– I do. Fuck– I don’t even know why I’m crying!”

“Ah,” Harry looks around. “I love you, I love you so much and I’m so, so happy about this. Baby, look at me– look,” he grabs her chin, and she looks up, meeting his gaze. “I’m so happy. You make me so fucking happy. And– whether you want this or not, it doesn’t change anything. I love you. I love our family.”

“Stop–” she pinches his hip. He screeches. “Stop saying shit like that!”

Harry laughs harder, and he hides his beautiful face into her neck. “Why,” he asks, another laughter bubbling in his chest. She likes the sound. “Why not– I’m so fucking happy, fuck…”

She looks up at him, hands wrapping around his waist. She holds him tight. “Are you?” She asks, voice small. “Are you, really? Do you– want this?”

“Fuck– of course, I do. Are you mad? Look at me,” fingers pressed to her chin, he makes her look up again, and their eyes meet. “I love you so much,” he whispers, lips touching with every syllable. I love you, love you, love love love you, he whispers.

She asks to go to bed, but Harry reaches for her hand, and intertwines their fingers. Just before they leave the ensuite, Harry falters, and grabs the pregnancy test, holding it tightly in his palm.

They sit on the bed, shoulders touching, and she leans into his warmth. “Can’t believe you’re holding that– like that,” she mumbles, voice muffled into his naked skin.

He turns to her, and lips touch her forehead. A kiss, then another one.

“Why– what’s wrong with that, that’s my child.”

“I peed on that thing, H.”

“Fuck,” he laughs, holding the stick up to inspect it. He lets out another laugh. “I don’t care.”

She shrugs, kissing his warm shoulder. “Plus,” she says, and grabs the stick, placing it on his bedside table. Harry watches intently, but his breath hitches when she grabs his big hand, and places it on her tummy. “Your child is in here, not in that bloody stick, you silly sausage…”

When she looks up to inspect his gaze, he’s got tears in his eyes. It’s as if he’s just hearing the fact that she’s carrying his child– his second child.

“This is crazy,” he whispers, though she thinks he’s thinking out loud more than anything. “You– they’re in here,” he rubs her belly, then looks up at her, eyes teary. “Wait, are you– do we need to take another one?”

She hums. “What?”

“Another pregnancy test? What if– what if that thing’s broken? I can’t– fuck, I want this so bad, I think I would be depressed if it turns out to be a scam.”

She lets out a laugh. “A scam? No– I don’t think– why would you say that now?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, even if it’s not real–”

“–Oh my God, stop it, Harry.”

“I want this so much,” he whispers, and kisses the side of her neck. Another kiss, then he moves up to her chin. “I love you– I want this baby.”

“It’s like you’re the one pregnant and not me.”

He pouts. “You know what I mean.”

“Not really,” she whispers. “Can we get in,” she means the bed.

He nods.

They get in, but Harry can’t stop looking at the test on his bedside table. Just before she sighs and tries to cuddle into him, ready to start another conversation about the potential-pregnancy, Harry straightens up in bed, and grabs his phone off the charger.

She rolls her eyes. “What are you doing now?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs, though she hears the camera shutter going off.

She lets out a laugh. “Did you just take a photo of it?”

“Mhm.”

She smiles, and gets comfortable in bed. “Come here, you silly man,” she whispers, hand reaching to touch his naked hip. He moves easily into her hold, and lets her hold him close to her chest.

They look funny, she knows, Harry’s big body folded so he fits into her smaller hold. 

They kiss lazily, the kiss getting heated when she travels her hand down his toned chest, until it reaches his joggers. He’s hard– and bare underneath his joggers, so when he lets out a whine, she squeezes him harder over the material of his joggers.

He moans her name, eyes shut, but she reaches and presses an open-mouth kiss on his stubble-covered chin. She sucks the skin, and grabs the band of his joggers, pulling them down just enough so that his hard, leaking cock is out. The tip is a beautiful shade of pink, precum glistening the smooth, shiny skin of his tip. 

“Fuuuuuck.”

“I want you to come on my face,” she whispers, thumb swiping against the tip. She squeezes, and he groans, both at the request, and the way she’s squeezing his needy-tip.

“Suck me, then,” he says, teeth gritted. “Come on, baby, give me something.”

She moves her head down, and kisses the tip, licking the wetness before opening her mouth wider. She finally takes him into her mouth, his cock feeling hard and heavy– and so warm inside her mouth, and it makes Harry whine, hips bucking up when she licks the underside of his cock. Humming around his thickness, Harry grabs her by the back of her head, and supports her movement, helping her take more of him– just like she knows he likes.

“You’re so fuckin’ good,” Harry murmurs. “Taking me so good.”

She bobs her head up and down, the velvety walls of her mouth feeling snug, and so warm around his cock. She sucks him in her mouth, can feel him watching her every move as she places her other hand on his balls, squeezing them gently which earns her a throaty moan from Harry. She looks up, finding his gleaming eyes. 

It’s a silent conversation they have between them, and he knows. 

He does, because he begins moving his hips, fucking into her mouth ever-so-gently as his other hand, the one that’s not wrapped around her hair, travels down to her chest. He squeezes her boob over her t-shirt, then moves it under her chin, wanting to feel her warm skin against his palm rather than the feel of cotton. 

He squeezes hard, her nipple hardening under his touch, and she hums around him, which leads him to buck his hips in a more practiced manner, fucking her mouth harder than he was.

“I’m gonna cum,” he mutters, words tasting familiar, and she squeezes his balls once more, fondling them, playing with them before she goes deeper, feeling the tip touching the back of her warm throat. 

She sucks him harder and more determined than she was before, and when he tweaks the pebbled nipple between his thumb and index, she takes him out of her mouth, knowing he’s close.

Harry watches her like a hawk, “Want me to cum on your gorgeous face– make a mess?”

Her hand continues her slow strokes, and she nods, squeezing the tip exceptionally hard. 

“Fuck,” Harry chokes out, and he comes.

He holds himself at the base, their hands touching as white, sticky stripes coat her face–cheeks, lips, and chin–and she grins at his aim, tongue already peaking out to get a taste.

“Fuck me–”

She hums at the taste. “Love your cum.”

“Jesus– did you just suck me dry after peeing on a stick,” Harry laughs, chest rising up and down, trying to calm down after his high.

She laughs, and gets on her knees, walking backwards on the bed. 

“I guess,” she gets on her feet, and walks into the ensuite. 

She washes her face, and grabs two face cloths that she uses to take her makeup off. She wets them, and walks back into their bedroom, spotting him laid against the pillows, cock still out, soft against his thigh.

She laughs, and gets on the bed, Harry’s eyes finding hers. “You’re disgusting,” she says, wiping him in between hisses from him.

“Mmh, I love you, too.”

Y/N lets out another sigh, and kisses the top of his head. He looks up, eyes still shiny.

They find their old position in bed, Harry against her chest as they snuggle. Y/N lets out a content sigh, and kisses the top of his head. He looks up, eyes shiny.

“I’ll call Jane tomorrow,” he says, quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the stillness of the room. “To make an appointment.”

“Okay.”

“Are you– you’re happy, right?” He rubs the skin under her boobs from under her t-shirt.

“I… am. I’m a bit– you know, nervous,” she smiles, eyes closing, almost falling victim to sleep.

She feels him nod, his soft hair tickling the side of her neck. He hums then, “That’s normal, yeah? No matter what happens, you know you’ve me, right? And Teddy.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I do. You, me, and Teddy.”

A silence falls over their tired bodies.

Harry breaks it. But not before travelling his right hand down to her tummy, stroking the warm skin there before he presses his face into her chest harder. She smiles, eyes still shut.

.・゜

Harry wakes up before her, and he smiles sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of her sleep-warm neck much like Thea would do. He hugs her body closer, and wonders what time it is– and if Thea is about to wake up. It can’t be that late, he thinks, judging by the light outside.

He’s sweaty– they both are, but Harry doesn’t care, and snuggles into her body more as if it’s possible, given their position.

He watches her sleep, eyebrows and jaw relaxed, her chest rising and falling peacefully. He attaches his lips to her clothed-chest, and kisses where her breast is. Totally innocent, and he knows she’s waking up– her breathing changes.

He smiles when he notices she’s refusing to open her eyes. A smile is threatening to appear on her beautiful face, though Harry doesn’t stop the way his hand is travelling down, until it reaches the bottom of her t-shirt. He lifts it up, revealing her naked stomach, and he moves his own body downwards, lips puckering to place a kiss where her belly button is.

“Psst,” he whispers into the skin of her stomach, and he smiles when he notices her muscles tighten– clearly trying not to move. “Anyone in there?”

In the dead silence of their bedroom, Harry strokes her skin, and taps his index finger just above her belly button. “Are you in there?”

“Harry…”

“Shh.”

She matches his tone. “What are you doing?” She whispers, hand resting on top of his head, messing with his already messy, sleep-tousled curls.

“Just, morning chat,” he bites his bottom lip, and presses his ear to her stomach.

He waits, and waits, until his eyes widen at the gurgling noise coming from inside.

He looks up, their eyes meeting.

“Don’t be stupid,” she cuts him off, when she notices him opening his mouth to get a word in. “I’m hungry, and probably need to poo.”

He laughs into her tummy, and kisses the beauty mark there. “You’re a disgusting woman.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, stretching.

“So,” he straightens up, and kisses her cheek. Then her nose, then her lips. “Morning.”

“Mmh,” another kiss. “Good morning.”

“Coffee and yoga before Teddy wakes up?” He asks, gaze hopeful.

“Ugh.”

He smiles, and opens his arms so she can snuggle into his body, clearly not wanting to get up yet.

“I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes…”

She looks up. “And vanilla ice-cream?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

They kiss lazily as the coffee brews, both dressed in a soft jogger set, and she bites his bottom lip just before turning her attention back to their coffee. They drink, do some stretching and Harry guides her through some yoga moves, and they move to their spacious sofa. She places herself in front of him, leaning against his chest as they sip from their second cups.

It’s not long before Thea wakes up, and they prepare breakfast together, Harry cutting up fruit while she boils the egg. She makes a quick pancake batter mixed with veg for Thea, and Harry prepares their own breakfast, humming to an Eagles song coming from the speakers.

They eat, Harry records Thea while the five-year-old acts like she’s on MasterChef, and then, Y/N places their dishes into the dishwasher as Harry cleans their mess off the kitchen table.

“Jane messaged back,” Harry comes behind her, and snuggles into her, placing a kiss on the back of her neck.

Hours later, they’re inside the private clinic in East London, and Harry intertwines their fingers while they wait for Jane to see something.

They don’t understand what’s going on, and with every shape appearing on the screen, Harry holds his breath. He thinks this is it, this is our baby, and it makes Jane laugh, seeing the focused look on his face.

“You took the test yesterday?” Jane wants to confirm, as she clicks something on the keyboard.

Y/N hums. Harry squeezes her fingers.

“Well,” Jane presses one last key, and they both look up at her. “Congratulations,” she smiles, placing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re five-weeks pregnant.”

Her bottom lip starts trembling, and she feels a sharp pain– clearly Harry squeezing the hell out of her fingers. She looks up, tears in her eyes, and it’s funny how they give each other the same look.

The same look they shared five years ago.

Jane leaves, and Harry sits next to her legs, hand never leaving hers.

“Baby,” he whispers, lips already puckered as he chases hers.

They kiss lazily, her hands around his neck, touching the hairs there before she pulls away, and Harry presses his forehead against hers.

“What’s wrong?” He says, voice laced with worry. He notices the look in her eyes. He knows it too well. “What’s wrong, baby– hey.”

“Harry…”

“What is it?”

“Please don’t leave us,” she whispers, shame and heartache clear in her voice. It’s timid, her touch on his chest, and Harry surges forward. He kisses her– hard.

“Never,” he whispers. “I’m never leaving, you hear me– look at me, Y/N,” he says, and she looks up, looks into his teary eyes. “I’m not leaving. I’m not. Never.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He nods, kissing her cheek before his hand drops to her sticky and cold stomach. He strokes the skin, and leans in to press a kiss where he thinks their baby is. “I love you– I love you so much, and I love Teddy so much,” he pauses, and looks up at her. Hand still on her stomach, he whispers, “And I love them.”

They pick Thea up from school, and she talks about her day, the drawing she made in Music because Mr Anderson is gone, I think he’s dead.

“I’m sure– I’m sure he’s not, sweetheart,” Harry says, voice trembling a little as he eyes Y/N. He mouths a what the fuck, and they hold their laughter while Thea goes on and on about her day.

They come home, Harry bathes Thea–more like they stay in the tub for a long time because they’re both kids who love to play with bubbles–and Y/N calls them downstairs when the food’s ready. It’s a simple pasta dish, because she knows Thea loves it.

“Did you give your book back to Mrs Bea, Teddy?”

Thea looks up at Y/N and nods. “Yes. She gave me another one. It’s about a zog. It’s really not fun.”

Harry chuckles, closing his mouth when he almost chokes. “Why, Teddy?”

“I don’t care about zogs, daddy. And,” she reaches for more warm bread. “This book is super easy. I can read it in two seconds. I can read harder books.”

“Two seconds, really?” Y/N asks, reaching to ruffle her damp curls.

“Mhm. Zion timed me. Two seconds. Maybe a bit more.”

“Okay, bunny.”

“I’m also thinking of sleeping in your bedroom, mummy. You and daddy and me,” she nods, clearly to herself, and Y/N shares a look with Harry.

Harry beats her to it, though. “Okay… why? Is everything okay in your room?” He asks, putting more pasta in his mouth.

Thea shrugs, turning her fork in the bowl. “Yes. I just feel lonely,” she looks at Y/N. “Mummy, you have daddy. Daddy you have mummy. And me,” she notes, tone higher. “I have no one to cuddle at night.”

“Oh,” Y/N chuckles.

“You can sleep with us tonight, Teddy,” Harry agrees, his hand finds Y/N’s thigh under the table. He squeezes gently.

When they’re settled in bed, the three of them, Harry reads her a few pages of Five Minutes’ Peace, and they snuggle under the duvet.

Harry turns to Y/N, looking at her over Theadora’s head of curls. They have a silent conversation before Harry clears his throat. He closes the book, and places it on his bedside table.

She gets it.

“Teddy,” she whispers, stroking her cheek.

She looks up.

“Your dad and I want to tell you something,” she says, watching the child nod.

Harry turns to his side, and kisses her forehead, waiting for Y/N to continue.

“What do you think about having a little brother or sister?” She asks, and Harry knows she’s nervous.

He is, as well.

Theadora hums.

“Now?” She asks, folding her arms over the duvet. She looks cute, lips pursed in thought.

She doesn’t sound upset, or angry.

Harry smiles at the question.

Y/N looks up at him, though he lets her do this on her own.

“Yeah– would you want that?”

“I think so… when is she coming here?” Theadora asks, eyes on Y/N.

“Um, nine months,” she says, smiling at the way she’s referring to the baby as ‘she’.

“Wow,” Theadora whispers, the time-frame sounding like an eternity. “Is she in your belly, now?”

She clears her throat, not expecting the question, nor the look she’s giving her. She’s looking down at her stomach, and Harry’s hand finds Theadora’s curls, stroking the side of her face.

“Yeah,” Y/N whispers. She nods.

“Wow.”

Harry can’t wait any longer. “How does that make you feel, Teddy?”

“I guess,” she says, biting her pinky into her mouth. Y/N watches with her lip trapped between her teeth. “I guess I want her to be here now. Maybe this week. I can’t wait that long,” she huffs, making them both laugh.

Y/N looks up with tears in her eyes, meeting Harry’s gaze.

“They need to stay inside mummy’s tummy so that they’re healthy when they’re born, T!” Harry laughs, kissing her cheek.

“They? Are there two?”

Y/N smiles. “One, but we don’t know if it’s a girl, or a boy.”

“I want a girl.”

“You want a sister?” Harry blows a raspberry into her neck, earning a shrill scream from her.

“Oh my Gosh,” the small child exclaims. “If baby is a girl, I can give her my dresses. And,” she gets one leg out of the duvet, clearly feeling hot. She turns to Harry, hands finding both his cheeks as she squeezes his face. “I can teach her your songs.”

Harry smiles, tears welling up in his eyes. “Of course.”

Y/N laughs, having always loved seeing Harry and Teddy interact.

“Maybe she can come to your concerts and watch you with me,” Thea thinks out loud, hands now playing with Harry’s cross necklace.

“Well,” Y/N chuckles. “She’s going to come wherever we go, Teddy,” she smiles, stroking her back. She presses a kiss on her neck.

Thea turns to her, and snuggles into her body, hand still around Harry’s necklace. “Everywhere?”

“Yeah. She’s going to be your little sister. Like best friends.”

“Okay… she’s coming to Nana’s, too? And Grammy’s?”

“Yes, Teddy.”

“Okay, well, I need to talk to Nana and Grammy,” Thea murmurs, sleep clearly taking over.

“Oh?” Harry smiles, kissing her nose. He fixes the duvet around her, and watches Y/N press her own ‘goodnight’ kiss to her chubby cheek.

It’s silent after that, and they both watch Theadora sleep, before Harry’s hand finds Y/N’s tummy under the duvet.

He rubs her tummy for a while before she places her hand over his, and they share a look.

“I guess she’s happy?” She whispers.

“I think? Though,” Harry gets comfortable, now laying on his back. “The last comment had me worried,” he laughs quietly.

“Which one?”

“How she wanted to ask my mum and your step-mum about the baby.”

She lets out a gasp. “I need to call them first thing in the morning,” she whispers, turning to her side. She strokes Thea’s arm, and finds Harry’s loving gaze. “She’s such a gossip, she’d tell them before we did.”

“I love you,” Harry smiles.

“I love you, too.”

“Thank you,” he closes his eyes.

She lets out a snort. “Stop thanking me for silly things,” she pinches his hand, and he smiles harder, eyes still shut. “I love you so much, you’re such a great dad.”

He opens his eyes at that. “Am I?”

It’s a constant worry for him, she knows.

“You are,” she says, hand cupping his cheek as he leans into the touch.

They stay like that for a while, and the last thing she remembers before falling asleep is Harry’s warm hand finding her tummy once again.

[lokisprettygirl]

Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+)

Chapter 1

Summary: A decade after he disappeared so suddenly from your life, you reunite with the man who you used to address as Uncle..lovingly.

Warning: 18+, dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be smut later, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, divorce

"Honey you remember your uncle Daemon right?"

Your eyes perked up as you heard your mother's voice.

"Ofcourse, what happened?" You asked her as you turned around to look at her, you were getting ready for your parents 25th anniversary party when your mom thought this would be the right time to mention his name. Ofcourse you remembered him, you'd never forget him.

"Oh nothing, your daddy was able to convince him to come, we are going to see him at the party, isn't that exciting? It's been ages.. hopefully those two will make it up finally" she said cheerfully and for a moment you felt dizzy. You never thought you'd ever hear about him again let alone see him..

"Oh my gosh, is this uncle daemon the same uncle daemon? The hot guy in your old family pictures?" Your best friend Cassandra whispered in your ear so you looked at her, she was a beautiful blond and bit of a slut which you didn't mind, you both had been friends since college even though at times you felt envious of her, it was only natural, she was everything you were not.

"Yuppp…that Daemon" you sighed deeply as you began to feel jittery. You hadn't heard from him, of him or seen him for over a decade, something happened between him and your father, you just didn't know the truth, you didn't know why their friendship had ended so suddenly that not only Daemon had cut ties with your family but also moved to the states with his wife Stella.

"Ohhh he just got divorced so don't mention it" your mum said to you.

Oh well, shit happens right?

After fidgeting in the room you collected yourself and made your way downstairs to join the celebration.

Your eyes immediately met with Daemon as you stepped down the stairs, for a moment there was a look of unfamiliarity in his eyes, you felt as if he was checking you out or maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part. He looked good, so good, as good as you remembered and definitely good for his age, if you didn't know he was almost 43 now you wouldn't have been able to tell really.

He had a maroon jacket on with loose tee underneath, a cross chain on his neck, his hair was a fluffy mop of blonde loose soft curls on his head just like you remembered, his shoes shined so bright you wondered if one could see their face on them and damn you wanted to see your face on them.

You didn't want to act as if you were ignoring him so you made your way to Daemon, he had retreated towards the bar and had his back turned towards you while he sipped on a neat whiskey.

"Uncle Daemon" he turned around his head to look at you and a smile graced his features,

"Y/n?" voice as rugged as you remembered,

"That's me"

He put his glass down and wrapped his one arm around your waist to give you a quick hug. He smelled divine.

"You grew up didn't ya?"

"Well it took ten years but I guess I did" he chuckled as you said that.

As you now stood near him you could see the signs of aging on his face, his skin still looked soft and blemish free but those lines on his forehead had gotten more intense with time, none of it stopped him from looking sexy as fuck though. How was this possible? You were just a kid back then with a stupid crush, a crush that you knew has possibly ended as he had disappeared from your lives then how come you felt so awestruck as you stood so close to him after so long?

"How have you been?" You asked him as you sat down next to him, his mouth curved into a smile

"Fine..how are you?"

"I'm okay..So you're here just for the party?" You asked him so he shrugged in response.

"Not really, I'm joining that anniversary trip thingy unless you want me to leave of course" he joked

You were surprised to hear that, you hadn't heard from him in ten years and now your dad had him join the family trip, what had even transpired between them?

"Mmmm you can come" he chuckled as you said that,

"How old are you now if you don't mind me asking?" He turned to you as he questioned,

"Do you not remember how old I was when you ummm vanished?" he chuckled again but this one was more from nervousness rather than amusement.

"Twelve?" He asked you, making you shake your head in response.

"Fifteen"

"I'm just messing with you, of course I remember"

"Mmmm.. I'm really Sorry about your divorce"

You weren't really sorry though.

The smile on his face faded as you mentioned it but he composed himself almost immediately.

"Good riddance, should have ended it a long fucking time ago..Christ i can swear in front of you now right?" You chuckled as he said that,

"Absofuckinglutely"

"Hey there now!! You're still not allowed to say those bad words missy" you rolled your eyes playfully at the comment "What's going on in your life anyways?"

"Not much uncle, just got my heart broken so I'm gonna spend the night nursing it" he winced as you said that.

"Tch tch who's the unlucky fella "

"Dylan, we were in college together "

"What did he do?"

"Just the good old infidelity you know"

Well it wasn't just that but you weren't ready to dump all your problems on him just yet or ever really.

"Did you love him?" He asked you,

"I liked him enough to be with him"

"Well..here then" he passed you his drink so you took a sip from it.

Bold of him to assume the gesture wouldn't make you giggle like a schoolgirl.

"For the broken ones" he cheered to youz making you smile in response

"You two met already I see" your father approached you two so you stepped down from the stool and hugged him, you hadn't seen him all day. He was a very busy man.

"You do remember him right sweetheart?"

"Of course, how could I ever forget?"

Daemon's brows raised as you said that. You have turned into a fine young woman, he couldn't deny that, perhaps if he was a mere stranger to you he'd have accepted the fact that he found you attractive but he wasn't, he had known you since you were just a kid and he wasn't going to cross that line. However he wasn't entirely sure about your intentions at the moment, the way you looked at him didn't seem so innocent or maybe he was overthinking.

You stepped away from him to not come across as desperate or give yourself away, you really thought you just had a stupid crush on an older man when you were just a teen but seeing him after so long had made you feel something again and you had no idea how to feel about it.

If he was just another man maybe you could have entertained this but he wasn't, he was the man who was more of a uncle to you then your own uncle had ever been and he was almost two decades older than you which almost seemed blasphemous.

"Damnn he's still hot huhh" Cassandra said to you, making you snap out of your thoughts.

"Shut Up he's old enough to be your dad, Cassie" she chuckled as you said that.

"He's just eighteen years older than us..besides what eighteen years olds have babies..ohhh wait your parents did" She joked so you gave her a tight lipped smile.

That's right, your parents were barely adults when they had conceived you, they were your typical high school sweethearts and got carried away one night but both of them loved each other so deeply that they knew they wanted to be with each other no matter what. They got married before your birth, however your father couldn't get his college degree until he had turned twenty five, and that's where he had met Daemon, even though your father was just a tiny bit older than Daemon there was an instant connection between them and that friendship had only bloomed with time.

You were just twelve when you had returned from the boarding school and that's when you had met him officially for the first time. His curly hair and a certain boyish charm made you see him differently, you never had a crush on a boy your age or anyone really before you saw him, maybe you just really liked how old and mature he was than you.

"Relax, it's not like I'm planning to marry him..I just want a one night stand, maybe two, please tell me he's coming with us to Bali" you sighed as she said that. You didn't want your best friend to get involved with him but did you really have a say in it?

"He is"

Your eyes met with Daemon so you looked away, after the party you went into your room and changed into a night dress, as you stepped downstairs in pretense of going into the kitchen to grab a water bottle you saw Daemon and your dad having a drink and smoke in the living room as they caught up with each other, he looked your way as he noticed your presence and gave you a small smile which immediately made you feel giddy again.

He was staying in the guest room so later that night you knocked on his door, you honestly didn't know why you were there but you just wanted to talk to him, as he opened the door he was a bit surprised but he smiled and invited you in,

"Umm I just wanted to ask if you're enjoying your stay"

You questioned him, he had his luggage opened on the bed,

"It's fine i guess.. how come you're still awake?"

"I sleep late"

"Mhmmm well i brought something for you, but for some reason I was still thinking of you as that fifteen year old girl"

He mumbled as he walked towards you to close the distance between and gave you a plushie.

"You thought I'd forever stay fifteen?" a giggle escaped your throat as you grabbed the plushie, ignoring the way his fingers brushed against yours and the spark you felt from the mere touch.

"Yeahh i wasn't expecting you to look like this now"

He crossed his arms as he spoke to you, did he just look at you from head to toe. God you hoped so. Wait no you didn't hope so. You can't do this.

You clutched onto the plushie and gave it a whiff, it smelled like him, that wasn't good, definitely not at all good for your health..

"It's okay I still accept plushies as gifts" you chuckled and it made him smile. There was a moment of silence between you two where you just stared at each other, he tried to not gawk at your bare legs and you tried to deny to yourself that you didn't have a crush on that tall, handsome, alluring man in front of you

"Well I'll see you tomorrow then ..uncle Daemon" you mumbled softly so he nodded.

"See you dearest Pixie"

He remembered. Oh god he remembered such a stupid thing.

The next morning, much to your dismay, Cassandra purposefully exchanged her seats on the flight to sit next to him, he looked even better today as he was in a loose fancy tracksuit and had sunglasses on, everytime you turned your head around to look at them, you saw her whispering something in his ears. Okay so you weren't the only one into older men it seems.

You would have taken your chance too if you were her, after all it's not her dad's best friend that she needed to worry about. For you however he was a forbidden fruit. A very juicy and delicious forbidden fruit.

As you all reached Bali there was a yacht waiting to take the group to the resort your dad had booked for the vacation, to you it seemed a bit frugal even though you had grown up in his riches.

You were the last one to board the yacht and much to your surprise Daemon was waiting there for you like the gentleman he had always been.

"Come princess" he mumbled as he put out his hand, the pet name though was uttered as a joke but it still made you feel flushed.

"Thank you good sir"

"Have you been here before? Bali i mean" He asked you

"Noo...you?" He sighed as you reverted his question.

"Once"

"Mmmm rich people am I right?"

"Says the one whose daddy owns the most luxurious hotels in all of UK"

"Well ..It's not really mine you know..i didn't make it or earned it..I'm barely a nine to five gal" he chuckled as you said that before he turned towards you and raised his glasses up to his head.

"You're his only daughter, when he dies, who do you think will inherit all of this?"

Okay, you had completely forgotten how cheeky he used to be.

"Stahp that's mean" you faked a gasp and it made him smile.

"It's just life Pixie" you nodded as you stared at his features. Gods he was pretty in a way that felt extraterrestrial sometimes.

"It's good to have you back..when you left I thought I'd never get to see you again" his brows raised as you mumbled that.

"Why did you want to see me again?" He enquired as he looked you right in the eyes and you froze, you didn't know what to say in response, your body trembled and his intense gaze made you feel flushed again.

Luckily for you, Cassandra intervened and took him away from you which for once you felt grateful for.

After that humiliating freezing incident you spent all day chilling in your room as you tried to not think of him. In the evening you built up the confidence again and put on a sexy summer dress to go to the beach party. Perhaps that will make him see you differently. You kept having these delusional wishes.

Daemon wasn't a man born yesterday so when your friend started to flirt with him excessively he knew she wanted him, your father approached Daemon as he noticed that as well and made a joke about how he was okay with it as long as it wasn't his own daughter. The joke didn't go well with Daemon considering their history together.

He wasn't just there to reconcile with his estranged best friend, he wanted to move back to London and he needed his help to do so and there was one other reason that he didn't want to think of. No, he hadn't forgotten their history but he came back with an open heart, he wasn't there to seek revenge, he really was keen on accepting your dad's effort for reconciliation.

All of those things were immediately shifted to the back of his mind when he saw you dancing with Cassandra, that was one thing he didn't see coming, not the dancing, you always danced, but the attraction he was starting to feel towards a girl he had been around since she was a kid, whenever he thought about your 12 year old self he felt disgusted with himself but that woman moving so sensually on the dance floor wasn't a child no more and he knew he needed to get a grip on this silly sexual attraction before things would turn messy again.

Besides he was still not over the divorce or his ex wife Stella, as much as liked to pretend he hated her now once he had loved her with all his heart, that's why he had stayed for ten years in that marriage. He stayed until his heart gave out on him..

He heard a click in front of his face and was snapped out of his thoughts, it was you. Ofcourse. Lord he hoped he wasn't staring right at you like a creep.

"Are you alright?" You asked him, your voice was tender, eyes seemed as if they held more than just mere curiosity. Maybe a bit of care.

"Yeahhh just..bored out of my mind, would rather stay home on a couch" You chuckled as he said that.

"Well i prefer that too"

Shouldn't have said that

You knew you shouldn't have said that as soon as you said it.

"That friend of yours..she's single?" He asked you and you felt your stomach drop almost instantly.

"Why? You won't fuck her if she's not?"

Okay maybe you have had a few drinks already. A smirk graced his features but when he spoke next he made sure to keep his voice firm as if he was speaking to a petulant child.

"Do not talk to me like that Pixie, swearing doesn't suit you"

"I'm sorry uncle" you mumbled meekly so he hummed in response before he turned away.

After that you watched him flirt back and forth with Cassandra and it only bothered you more and more with every drink you ingested. She was your best friend but you had never really told her how you actually felt about your sweet uncle, of course you didn't, it was a secret you wanted to take to your grave, so it wasn't not as if she was doing it on purpose, she just met a sexy middle aged man and wanted to jump his bones but what if it escalates? What if he'd fall in love again? Your own thoughts made you cringe viscerally.

You saw your mom and dad dancing arm in arm and it only made you feel even more lonely, you'd have brought Dylan with you if he wasn't such an asshole, that feeling coupled with whatever was going on with Daemon and Cassandra had already begun to make you feel sick.

"I'm going back to my room..have fun..but not too much" you chuckled to appear as if you didn't care at all so Cassandra gave you a look.

"Babe do you need me to come?" She asked you but her eyes were pleading you to say no.

"Noooo have fun..I'm alright i swear"

As you stumbled away from them, Daemon kept his eyes on you until you disappeared then he turned to Cassandra.

"She just got her heart broken..you should go be with her" he said to her so she smiled sweetly

"Awnnn you're really sweet, trust me I know her, when she wants to be alone she just wants to be alone"

He hummed as she said that but he knew you didn't like being alone, definitely not in moments like these.

"I'll be right back darling..don't go anywhere" he winked at her before he leaned into her to kiss her cheek. Then he made his way back to the resort, he knew he shouldn't have followed you, you weren't a kid anymore, you could take care of yourself, until yesterday he didn't even know whether you were alive or not so he shouldn't have cared this much for his once best friend's daughter but he did. For some reason he had always cared about you.

He caught up with you outside the elevator so he stood next to you,

"Are you going back to your room too?" You chuckled nervously after you questioned him. Why did he have to be so nice?

"Noo I'm just making sure you are okay..it's my job as your uhh friend isn't it? Always made sure you were okay"

Friend. He said friend. Not uncle. Friend.

You remembered his wedding day clearly as a day. He had found you crying your eyes out but you were just thirteen, a child, he just thought you had your usual teen troubles so he comforted you and didn't go to the altar until he had you all smiling. He really didn't have to, but he did. It was his wedding day , the best day of his life as he had so proudly announced at the reception so yeah he really didn't have to look for you but he did.

"Yeahhh you did..until you abandoned us all and moved to USA"

He registered the snark in your voice but he ignored it, he didn't really think it still bothered you. As you reached the room you immediately beelined to the bathroom because you could feel it coming.

"Don't follow me please"

You said to him so he smiled and followed you instead, as you hurled your guts out he held your hair back and even in your drunken mess state you felt aroused by the way his other hand was running on your back. Just great you thought, the man you always had a crush on had returned after years and he was witnessing you at your worst already.

Once you were done he helped you get up and made you stand against the sink as he turned the tap on,

"Wash your mouth" he told you so you rolled you eyes but followed his command. He ran a washcloth under the warm water and began to wipe your face gently, you couldn't help but look up, there was a soft expression on his face that you hadn't seen in years, his brows were scrunched and lips pursed as he concentrated on wiping your face to remove the makeup..

"Very thoughtful of you to do this" he smiled as you said that.

"No worries..used to do it for ..never mind"

You couldn't help but wonder how sweet and loving he must have been with his wife, you saw it in his eyes, he loved her, truly, deeply, completely then why weren't they together anymore?

Before your thoughts could spiral or you can do something even worse than just harboring a harmless crush on your dad's best friend he dragged you to the bedroom and made you sit down on the bed,

"Drink this" he shoved a glass of water in your hands before he grabbed the trash can and placed it right next to your bed in case you'd need it in the middle of the night

"Thanks" you mumbled before you laid down on the bed so he hummed in response.

"Don't go anywhere alright, stay in bed and get to sleep.. goodnight" he said to you and he was hoping for a response but he only heard you grumbling. However as he was about to step out he heard your voice again so he turned around to look at you

"Family"

"What?" He asked you so you turned your head towards him,

"I wanted to see you again, wanted you to come back because you always said we were family..then why did you leave me..us like that?"

His eyes teared up too as he heard your voice sounding so sad, he would never tell you why he had to leave or why he couldn't stay here. He couldn't. For your own good he would never tell you the truth.

"Y/n .. I --"

You cut him off before he could say anything. You knew you should have shut your mouth right there, you knew that but you didn't, the state you were in at the moment aided you in making the worst mistake of your life.

"You had always been more than just family to me..more than just an uncle"

Now what the heck did you even mean?

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Note: here we go

If you want to be tagged let me know.

[elegantauthor]

Saving Grace Chapter 6

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Aurora Stark

Summary: Bucky and Aurora make amends.

Warnings: smut

Series Masterlist

By dusk, Bucky hadn’t returned. Aurora showered and dressed for bed in one of Zemo’s guest rooms. Frosty air seeped inside, so Sam helped her start a fire in the hearth. Now alone, she ruminated.

“It’s not like you made the effort to contact me, either!”

Bucky’s words were like a punch to the stomach. He wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t for the reason he suspected.

Interrupted by a tap at the door, she turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“It’s a free country. You fought for it. Hell, you almost died for it,” Aurora retorted. “You can do whatever you want.”

Bucky cocked his head, irises darkening. “Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, doll?”

“Oh, I think you know, soldier.” Her old nickname for him rolled off her tongue with ease.

Bucky crossed the room in two strides, taking her face between his hands. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you, Bucky.”

“Have you…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish. Part of him didn’t want to know.

“No,” she whispered.

His breath hitched at her admission, heart soaring because she hadn’t been with anyone else since the Snap, dissolving all of his insecurities and self-doubt. He picked her up and pressed her into the mattress.

“Too soft.”

Nodding in agreement, he carried her to the black-sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace, laying her on it. Reminiscent of the nights they made love under the canopy of stars in Wakanda.

He knelt between her legs, rubbing his hands down her inner thighs to part them. He bent his head, two experimental laps of his tongue over her folds. She arched against his mouth, and he took it as a sign to keep going. Anchoring her with his vibranium arm wrapped around one leg, he pushed in two fingers as far as they could go. He moved in and out with languid strokes, readying her to accommodate him.

Watching her body tremble and tense around his fingers was intoxicating. He continued to please her with his fingers and tongue, licking and teasing the bud, a low whine in her throat whenever he suddenly stopped. “I don’t want you to come yet,” Bucky said, apologetically. “I wanna feel you.”

Aurora welcomed him into her arms, as Bucky positioned himself on top of her. Eager to explore his body, she traced her fingertips over the curve of his broad shoulders and down his back. She felt him shudder against her and smiled into his chest, pressing tender kisses to the scars that marred his left side.

“Fuck,” he muttered, closing his eyes. She opened her hips wider, allowing him to meld into her, the tip poised just at her entrance.

“Bucky,” she whined.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

“Bucky, please,” she begged, sighing when he gave in without hesitance. She whimpered into the crook of his neck, the stretch stinging with a mix of pain and pleasure.

“I’ve got you, baby. Relax.” He knew it’d been five years for her. Five years celibate, and he wanted it to be worth her wait. He kissed her deeply, passionately. Wrapping his arms around her, he inched into her with slow and deliberate precision. He settled inside her and paused to fully relish in her, their eyes meeting. Her amber orbs glimmered like stardust in the firelight. “Mine?”

To Aurora’s ears, it sounded more like a question. A question she was all too willing to answer. “Yours, Bucky. Only and always,” she assured him, cupping her palm around his scruffy cheek.

“I don’t wanna be gentle,” he confessed, mumbling it as if unsure of himself. He needed her like a dying man needed salvation, and perhaps, he was that man.

“Then, don’t.”

Spurred by the resolve in her voice, Bucky set a rough pace. He pinned her wrists to the rug, using his grip as leverage to move as fast as she could handle. He was mindful of her noises, the expressions on her face. When it contorted, he slowed down. “You feel so good, baby,” he praised, “as good as I remember.”

Aurora moaned, both at the way he moved and his words of praise. She wanted to take everything he was willing to give, for his touch to be the only one her body craved. She didn’t care that her wrists would be raw, nor how much she’d throb the next morning.

He was the first to climax, but he didn’t stop. Thanks to the super-soldier serum, he stayed hard after. “Come for me,” he ordered, and that’s all it took. He gently rode out her orgasm, pushing in and out until her walls tightened around him. “That’s it… oh, fuck, doll.”

Hair plastered to her forehead by sweat, Aurora looked up at him and smiled. “Soldier…” she murmured, dazed and sleepy.

Husking a soft laugh, Bucky picked her up and carried her to the bed. He disappeared into the adjoined bathroom, returning moments later with a washcloth. He pressed it to her forehead, dabbing away the moisture, before dipping it between her legs. The warmth soothed her.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, doll.”

[house-of-slayterr]

Caught in the Heart of the Storm

Something was up.

That much you could tell when you woke up on this stormy morning. The base was cold, freezing actually , like someone had left a window open. A low groan leaves your slightly cracked lips as your warp the blanket around you, going to look around for the culprit of the chills running down your spine.

You relaxed a little seeing Frenchie still passed out on the couch, fast asleep unaware of the raging storm just above them. The boys deserved sleep, it been a hard week. Something you felt in your bruised and scraped up body. But you’d gotten another supe, so everything felt worth it. The world was a little safer without that asshole in it.

Next you checked the Desk, MM was still asleep on his chair. Him and Butcher rarely ever relaxed enough to fully sleep, but his breathing was even. You found Hughie in the spare room, made for when any of the team mates are passed out or get knocked out on a mission. Butcher was in the chair by the TV, arms crossed over his chest as he slept. A kimiko was in the other cot, snuggled safely in her blankets.

Everyone was safe, so then, why did you still feel weird. If nobody was in danger why were you senses screaming at you. But that’s when you heard another window shatter upstairs. You drop the blanket, reaching for frenchies knife on the coffee table as you make your way up to the abandon building you were under.

Not sure if you were to expect a fight or just a storm causing collateral damage. But you froze when you saw a mass in the middle of the floor, like it’d just blown in from the window. One of the tarps had loosely wrapped around it as you inched closer to see what, no who it was. You were certain the person was unconscious, they’d made no attempt to move in the last sixty seconds.

You bend down slowly, moving the tarp slightly, but drop it back down when you quickly realise the poor sap is naked. Strange.

You leave the tarp of his face though, it doesn’t look familiar, you don’t see many scraps that would be consistent with him being tossed through a window either. No glass in his skin, just an unconscious , naked man wrapped in a tarp. This must be why you felt off. You were meant to find him. But why.

He was breathing, that’s the only reason you knew he wasn’t dead, well that and the lack of any obvious injuries. You shake him slightly trying to wake him, when that doesn’t work you slap him, yet still nothing.

“Oh fuck me” you groan.

You could go downstairs to wake the boys but they were more apt to respond with immediate violence and distrust, well everyone but Hughie. You sigh, bending down to warp your arms under his, trying to keep his dignity a little by dragging the tarp with you, as you drag him downstairs.

“Sorry buddy, if you didn’t have any bruise before you might now”

You say cringing slightly as his skin softly thuds against each step, you move him to the rug, not too close to any of the boy were he’d be in immediate danger, but not somewhere so uncomfortable. You move back to the side room, raising the dresser for some of Hughies clothes. He’d fit. But the question was, was it weirder to change him, at least he’d have clothes on when the boys woke, or should you just leave him naked. You figured you’d already seen him. You’ve had to dress an unconscious butcher before, he was much heavier than the smaller man.

You decide it was better to do so,, now checking his body in better lighting and still seeing no bruises, signs of anything broken. It was absurd to think he just materialised out of nowhere. But stranger things have happened in this Supe infested world. After struggling for nearly 15 mins you got the underwear, sweats and an old Tshirt on him. You stood back to admire your work, finally noticing how gentle his face looked when he slept.

It reminded you of Hughie, you long term crush. One you weren’t willing to admit out of fear of ruining the currently winning dynamic of your little antihero team. His hair was fluffier though, the curls more obvious as they clung to his slightly sweaty body. You had noticed he was quite warm when you found him, but you didn’t know what to make of this information.

As you go to move a curl out of his face he finally wake up. At first his blinks are slow but at the feel of your touch you suddenly feel a tight grip on your wrist, stronger than you expected.

“Who are you?” He asks coldly

“I should be asking you that pretty boy” you let the pet name slip in you shock mixed with anger at how he spoke to you after all you just did for him.

“Keep your voice down ass, unless you want everyone in here to wake up and immediately try to kill you. Got it” you whisper seethe.

“Who are you?” He asks again much softer and quieter.

“My names Y/N, least that’s what everyone calls me. I found you unconscious upstairs, figured bringing you down here was better than leaving you to that storm”

He nods slowly taking in your words. He looks down at himself noticing the clothes that aren’t his and raises an eyebrow, relizing he not in his hero costume he decided to give his civilian name.

“Adrian. And I have no clue where I am.”

“I would hope not, only an idiot would come here uninvited”

“These clothes aren’t mine”

“You didn’t come here with any. Sorry, figured you didn’t want everyone to see your dick dude.”

He blushes.

“Sorry, I literally just woke up before finding you, I don’t know anything more about this than seemingly you do.”

“It’s ok. I’m just confused, I went to sleep in my bed and woke up here.”

You freeze looking for any signs of lying but find none.

“Really? How curious.”

You flinch a little when you hear cluttering in the kitchen, desperate for the person who woke up first to be Hughie, not wanting to deal with MM’s endless questions or Butcher’s dick-headery at this hour.

“Hugh?” You call softly.

You receive a light hum in response and your heart calms.

“You stay right here I’ll be right back. Keep your mouth shut until I’m back ok?”

Adrian hold up his hands in mock defeat and watches as you leave his line of sight. He adjusts how he’s sitting and fixes the strangers clothes on his body.

“Hughie can we talk a sec? It’s urgent” you say above a whisper.

“Yeah, did something happen? You ok?”

You can see the tinge of panic in his eyes.

“I’m fine, just irritated. We have a visitor and I’m trying to figure out how to wake the boys up without them immediately jumping at his throat.”

You can see the gears in his head turning as he sips his coffee.

“You would have given a name if you knew them.” He points out.

“He says his name is Adrian.” You sigh. “He has no clue how he got here and neither do I, pretty much watched him just materialise upstairs in the middle of the storm.”

“He’s down here?”

“Yes Hugh, god drink more of you coffee your useless when you first wake” you say harshly, cringing a little after.

Hughie frowns holding his coffee closer. “You’re starting to sound like butcher.”

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I just got no sleep last night and had to drag a man twice my size down a flight of stairs by myself. Forgive me for being a little on edge and irritable right now. Hughie please, I just need an idea. I believe him when he says he doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know who any of us are, since I know M and B will ask.”

“Put him in the back after we wake Kimi, she can help keep Frenchie in check, you know MM asks questions first, and Butcher, well I can stay with Adrian and you handle him. He listens to you a little bit more.”

A small smile curls on your lips watching him take charge of the situation. You would admit it was kinda hot, but that thought would have to wait for later.

“He’s in the living room, I’ll go wake my favorite girl” you kiss his cheek satisfied with his plan and go to wake the woman.

She was hard to wake sometimes, not because she slept hard, but because she often woke up fighting, much like Butcher. You gentle hum a little tune, Kimi has come to recognise it as her own personal alarm from you. It was gentle but just loud enough to wake her from her sleep. She appreciated that you never rushed her to wake.

She stretches softly looking at you confused.

“Sorry to wake you princess, but we have a guest we need to help. I need you on Frenchie duty today to make sure he behaves ok?” You kiss her forehead for good measure.

She was easy to bribe with love and kindness, and often times food. Since you came empty handed the former will have to work. She nods at you taking in your words, giving you a small thumbs up.

“Thank you Kimi, I owe you cake from your favorite shop later ok?”

You smile brighter when she smiles up at you.

“I promise if this new guy is swindling me in any way, I’ll take the fall for this. If he tries to touch any of you I’ll take him out myself.”

You leave her to get dressed going back to Hughie who’s now sitting on a chair starring down at Adrian.

“He won’t say anything.”

You chuckle lightly.

“That’s because he’s a good boy” you smirk “I told him to be quiet until I got back.”

“Oh thank god, I hate playing the silent game.”

Your light laughter fills the air just enough to slowly wake butcher. Him curious to what would cause such a sound at this hour. Hughie blushes at your choice of words, finding it strange the man didn’t say anything about you calling him a good boy.

“And you listened?” He asks bewildered.

“How I see it, she’s my only way out of this, she’s the only one I trust right now so I’m staying in her good side the best I can.”

“Smart too. Maybe you can be useful until I can find a way to get you home.”

“Useful how?” Both men ask at once.

“Come on Adrian… you really think I don’t know how to sniff out a vigilante?”

You watch as his muscle tense at that specific word, tilting your head curiously.

“What? Vigilante, no, I’m Adrian, I told you-“ he babbles out.

“Relax Adrian, I still don’t know who or what you are specifically, I just meant you’re like us. I can see it in the way your hold yourself. The only people who wake up like you do are people who have seen and been through some shit. I know you’re not some normie civilians. They tend not to get plucked out of their realities in the middle of the night.”

“Like you?”

“Reality?” Hughie ask.

You shrug. “My best guess. Only think that makes sense. Storm caused an anomaly- Adrian was it storm where you were too?”

“Yes, there was a hail storm with a tornado warning.”

“So the two stroke collided and you just so happened to be the unlucky fellow who got transported in the anomaly. Never believed in worm holes until you crashed through the window.”

“How would we get him back if that’s the case, I’m sure there people back home who miss him.”

“That’s the part I don’t-“

“Who are we getting home?”

Butcher stands behind you, arms crossed and face grumpy as usual as he looks at the peculiar scene before him.

“Care to explain yourself cupcake?” He raises a brow at you.

“Maybe I should just wait for all of you to be up to explain. Butcher, this is Adrian, as far as you’re concerned he’s a new friend. I swear if you touch him when my backs turned, I will take your left testicle.”

“Already so defensive of your new pet?” He muses.

“Maybe I am. Just because you hate the world doesn’t mean I have to. We don’t have to agree on all of our moral standings.”

“Don’t come crying to me if this poor bloke betrays you Sweets. You trust to easy”

“Some of us have intuition and compassion William, our cause can wait one day to help him out”

“One day?”

“One day, that’s all I’m asking. After that I won’t make him be your problem anymore.”

Butchers smart enough to know you chose your words carefully. He knew you’d continue to help him whether he was on board or not. He lets out a sigh that sounds more like a frustrated growl.

“Let me get MM and Frenchie on board and then maybe we can figure out how to help your little charity case. I need a smoke.” He leaves to go upstairs.

“Well that could have gone a lot worse” you sigh. “Sorry about him, he’s just like that.”

“He reminds me of Clemson, just with a funny accent.”

“Clemson?”

“My boss, well my best friends boss, I just hang out with him because I can. Don’t know if I’m like forcibly on the team or anything.”

You grin. “So I was right you are a vigilante.”

“The Vigilante actually, that’s what the news calls me at least. And my friends.”

Hughie relaxes a little now that the hardest person to convince didn’t immediately threaten anyone.

You knew you could get the others on board once they woke up, but getting him home was gonna take a lot longer than one day. Perhaps you could multitask, take down the supes and find someone who can tear a hole back to his reality. Easier said than done right.

An: and cliffhanger… if this was bad, ignore it, if you want more, comment or reblog asking for part 2. I tried my best. Also comment who you want to end up with, Hughie, Adrian… both 👀

Tag: @mothmans-kingdom @kados-of-chaos

[hhhhoffman]

━ March

Part three of Monthly Mark Hoffman: A NSFW Cycle

summary: march - hoffman proves how much he needs you: by showing you, as he fucks you in front of the mirror.

pairing: mark hoffman x f!reader

word count: 1.9k

rating: explicit, 18+

cw: piv sex, mirror sex, comfort sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, cuddling

you can also read this story on ao3.

The promise of a weekend off and the joy of long awaited rest was a sweet remedy to a hard week of work. However, the buzz of several glasses of wine was doing little to soothe the worry that had begun to unfurl in your gut, after another cancelled dinner reservation, another sudden emergency at the station. Another night left alone, eating take out and watching old movies, with only yourself for company. 

It was a Friday night in March, and your finger was tracing the rim of your empty glass when you finally decided to call it a night. A sigh escaped you as you stood up and padded through to the kitchen to clean away the lonesome dish and utensils you had used. You then wiped down the counter tops and forced yourself into the bathroom. To make yourself feel better, you stripped off your clothes and showered, brushed your teeth and did some light skincare. Then feeling fresh and much less wine-drunk, headed to your bedroom. 

You sat cross-legged at the end of your bed for a moment, listening to the muted din of the television in the other room. You purposefully left it on to bleat comfortingly, as you never did like total silence, and the sounds were a nostalgic warmth that helped to ease your anxiety. 

The digital clock said that it was now Saturday, and still, there was no sign of Mark. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing okay, where he was and what he was doing - the intensity of your feelings for him having taken you by surprise. 

And then as if you had summoned him with your pining and worry, you heard the soft click of the front door opening and closing. He was finally here. You turned your head towards the sound of soft footsteps making their way to the bedroom. The scent of the sea salt and sandalwood candle you left burning drifted into the room with Mark as he crossed the threshold.

You didn’t speak, just looked up at him. You crossed your arms and pulled your short, silk robe closer around you as you took in his rugged appearance. He had been working so much lately, and with the increase in some pretty gruesome murders, he had been spending more and more time away from you. If the horror stories that littered the local news were anything to go by, this kind of situation was as serious as it gets. 

You could sense the stress on him, the way his jaw was tensed, the slight stoop of his frame, the waft of metal that was hidden beneath the spice of his cologne. The strange scent of death that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

He shed his coat, shoes and gloves wordlessly, and as you watched him, your insecurity got the better of you. The question fell from your lips:

“Are you avoiding me on purpose?” 

He turned towards you with confusion in his blue eyes, a slight scowl at his lips and his head slightly tilted. The question had taken him by surprise, which in turn perplexed you further. He stepped closer, and then silently offered you his hand. You took it and got to your feet, stood with uncertainty in front of him.

“Of course not,” he whispered sincerely, his eyes boring into yours. He released your hand, and then used the back of his fingers to caress your cheek. He always touched you with such rapt attention, and this time was no exception: he handled you as though you were utterly fragile, his eyes drinking in your expression, registering your worry. 

“I promise you that I am working more because it is absolutely necessary - it has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

Before you got the chance to feel ashamed or regret your words, he manoeuvred himself behind you, and possessively grasped the back of your neck with his large hand. He gently but firmly steered you to the floor length mirror opposite the bed, and you both watched the reflection of yourselves together for a moment.

“Just look at you,” he muttered, awe-struck, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever seen. Why would I ever avoid you?”

You ran your eyes over the sight of yourself. You were naked beneath the flimsy gown, your legs bare, your nipples hard and visible beneath the fabric. You noticed a slight flush in your cheeks, courtesy of the wine and his compliments and your own embarrassment. The looming size of his body behind yours caused an abrupt rush of heat to flare in your lower abdomen. His touch burned on your skin and seemed to seep further into your blood. 

“You disappear more than you used to,” you confessed in a small voice, before you could change your mind. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

He then used a gentle motion to pull your hair away from your face, as if to expose your beauty - and then he was stroking your neck and jaw. You watched in the reflection as he slipped your shoulder free from your gown, as his lips pecked softly at the newly exposed skin.

“I feel abandoned, Mark.” Your voice broke, and your insides dropped to have ruined such a beautiful moment. 

He momentarily paused. A strong arm then slipped around your waist, and he pulled your body to his, protectively. Possessively. 

Then the soft thickness of his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, his words a dripping, dark drawl when he whispered with regret:

“Then I’m a fool…” 

Your eyes met his in the mirror, both your irises gleaming with truth and desire in the low-light. 

“and I am sorry…”

You felt his erection making itself known against your backside, and the fire in your loins had been well and truly stoked. You inhaled a sharp breath. 

“...It seems I have a lot to make up for.”

You agreed with him, a gratified hum escaping your throat, and you pressed your ass against him as you demanded, "You better get started, then. Take off my gown.”

He immediately obliged, and you were naked before him and yourself. You continued to watch him in the mirror as he slowly fell to his knees and carefully took one of your thighs in his large hands, then lifted your leg over his shoulder. He now had open access to your wet entrance, and his lips met your vulva with relish. He looked up at you as his tongue began working your clit with stimulating, swirling circles, his large nose pressing gorgeously into your pubis.

He was always such a balm to all your troubles, even if he was the cause of them. That was always the way of it, it seemed, and you never really wanted anything more. Whatever anxiety and insecurity you possessed dissipated with his reassuring words and validating touch, because he did always come back, no matter how long it took for his shift to end, how much overtime he was putting in. Even though you were uncertain of where he had been or what he had been doing, in the end, he was always there. 

And by God, did he make up for his absences. 

You moved slowly together as he greedily ate you out: your fingers in his hair, his grunts of lust filling your ears as his tongue was filling your cunt. Your mouth was agape with pleasure as you watched him devour you, your eyes flickering between two different points of view thanks to the mirror. His strong hands held you still as you instinctively tried to buck your hips further into his mouth. Time slipped away into strings of moans and several peaks of pleasure, until your body became soft and limp in his arms, and you could hardly stand. 

You were both panting, his face wet with your slick, the ache between your legs was all-consuming and you were utterly desperate to be penetrated deeper, to be stretched by his thick cock. As if reading your mind, he pulled you to the bed, swift and determined, and then you were bent over, your face down into the sheets, your ass up, hips tilted just right.  

“Watch,” he demanded, his belt clinking as he freed himself from his pants. “Watch me as I fuck you.”

You obeyed him, bringing your eyes to your reflection. He spread you open, ran a finger down your drenched slit. You mewled and groaned, the anticipation of his carnal attention causing your legs to shake before he had even sheathed himself inside of you. You watched him look down at your wet cunt in the mirror, the adoration clear from his gaze and the purr of his voice. 

“Let me show you how much I need you. Watch, sweetheart, as I make you cum whilst using your perfect body.”

The filthy words sent electric heat through your core, and you could hardly bear it anymore. He sensed your impatience and slowly pushed into you, your wetness welcoming him, silkily, easy and seamless. You both sighed in blessed relief as he began to fuck you with confident, rapid thrusts. Your eyes stayed glued to his face in the mirror, watching as he had his way with you, as he gazed over your body with nothing but pure devotion in his eyes and satisfaction on his face. It was one of the hottest sights you had ever laid eyes on, and you could already sense the power of the orgasm he was devoutly working on fucking out of you. 

He started to fuck you harder, until the pounding from his strong hips felt like he was splitting you in half, and the depth was an exquisite, gratifying exaltation. His arms looked so large and strong as he gripped on to your hips and waist, his chest wide and stomach thick.

You were moaning, louder and louder, and then his fingers joined the fray, rubbing sweet shocks of pure bliss from your clit. You came hard and suddenly, your eyes shut, your face down into the bed sheets. He grabbed your hair, pulled your face up and made you watch as he had his way with you, as his own orgasm wracked his body, as he came deep and hard inside of you. His broad chest was wet with sweat, his large hands kneading at the soft flesh of your ass.

“Fuck,” you whined, orgasm-struck, the sight too perfect for words.

After a momentary pause, he pulled you into his arms and held you against his hot chest, and you inhaled the smell of him, musky-rich. You planted soft lazy kisses across his pectorals, licking at the tang of his sweat, savouring the salty taste of him. His heart was thudding quickly in his chest, and you listened to the beating proof of his affections, felt his hot breath in your hair as he kissed the top of your head, the strength of his arms that held you securely against his large body.

“I’ll never leave you,” he promised in a low authoritative tone. He began to trace shapes on your back with gentle fingers, and his tenderness was so comforting and reassuring - so rich with sincerity and faith that he threatened your eyes with tears.

“I know,” you reply. And you do, because you can sense the truth in him, feel it in yourself, in how he holds you, listens to and respects you. You smile into his hot skin: he’s here, and he cares. You have felt and seen it plainly, and what loneliness was lurking within you is no more. 

-

[sealrock]

19. taken

no content warnings word count: 883 words

"… Fuck."

Achille tugged at his hair in his growing frustration and panic—the house had been overturned, with any and every nook and cranny small enough for a baby to trap themselves in checked thoroughly. The state of disarray was from him frantically searching for his tiny charge. All he did was close his eye for a second (it was an hour), on the couch, knowing for certain that Paris was safe in her wooden playpen, the lock secured to keep the squirmy troublemaker in place.

Thankfully, she didn't cry when her parents took their leave. Achille would've thought Hector would be the one to loathe the thought of leaving her, but it was Andromache who had to be dragged out the door. Paris thought nothing of her constant reassurances that they would be right back as she teethed on Achille's chaplet, the cool metal cross offering relief for her irritated gums. Achille groaned to himself thinking about the inevitable teeth marks that would disfigure the necklace.

Hector and Andromache could walk through the door right now, which was something Achille wasn't looking forward to. He was used to Andromache's bursts of anger, but he only witnessed Hector's ugly side once when Achille mistook rare and fragile plants for weeds in his herb garden. It was something the redhead didn't want to experience again. With Achille on watch duty, the couple set out that morning to gather supplies down at the village market, though Hector must've got sidetracked with something or other because a simple twenty-minute trip turned into a whole day excursion.

Achille had their trust to look after the infant, but after a long night of dealing with a fussy and overly tired Paris who thought it was a great idea to keep them all awake by refusing to sleep (the knot at the back of his head from Andromache throwing a book at him for his offhand comment still throbbed). While her parents were no worse for wear, the two of them infuriatingly being morning people, Achille was feeling it today, his tense attitude and short temper caused by lack of sleep.

It's not like Achille hadn't dealt with sleepless nights before, it was only recently that his nightmares began to go away. But when the mind is running on fumes, it begins conjuring up scenarios not based in reality. It was during his third sweep of the house that he noticed something odd; the bay window next to Paris' playpen was slightly ajar.

Did someone sneak in to snatch the child? The front and back doors were locked and bolted, the upstairs untouched. If someone, or something, had taken Paris, they were gonna wish they were never born once Achille was through with them. His present crankiness aside, Achille would burn the world to ashes if something happened to Paris. He looked out the window for any signs of an intruder, be it footprints on the ledge or fingerprints on the glass. So absorbed in his hunt for an imaginary kidnapper, Achille almost missed the telltale squeak of a mischievous infant as he rushed back inside.

His bare feet came to a sudden stop on the rug. Panic quickly morphed into annoyance as he slowly opened the window to look down; there she was, nestled atop a prickly firethorn bush, Paris regarded Achille's glower with a wide-eyed stare.

"You little shite, how did you get out here?"

As if she could respond to him, not yet old enough to talk. Little noises came from her mouth as Achille lifted her up and out of the bush, the man surprised to see no skin pricks or other signs of injury on her, her baby clothes pristine. He couldn't guess how long she was out there, at least it wasn't hot outside and Paris was underneath the shade of the house. Paris reached up to tug Achille's pierced ear, her grip strong and tight as she clawed on the silver jewelry. She ripped out an earring once, and Achille's ear was nearly healed from that incident.

"Oi, none of that today. You gave me a scare I almost died. You wouldn't want me to die, right?"

Paris blinked at him as he gently removed her offending hand, the baby instead shoving it in her mouth as she hummed. Achille flopped onto the couch with a sigh, he'll clean up the mountain of mess later, allowing Paris the opportunity to crawl over to his face with her slobbery hand. If she couldn't get to his ears, she would tug at his stubbled cheeks, the bristled sensation always getting delighted giggles from her. Achille could only cringe at cold baby spit on his chin, trapped under the pudgy eight-month-old as he stretched out on the couch.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. You're gonna miss me when I'm gone—"

Curious sticky fingers hooked themselves into Achille's mouth. His agitated spluttering sent Paris into a laughing fit, her squeals growing louder at his look of irritation. Nonetheless, Achille never let go of the infant, his sturdy hands securing her body on top of his chest. They stayed like that for a while before eventually falling asleep. Achille would deal with Andromache's barrage of questions later, he's just relieved his baby was safe and sound.

[hazbmymhotel]

I promise, this image is NOT a spoiler, but I did make me laugh way too hard

Chapter 11) Zip, Zip

 

“So, Angie, I'm actually royally pissed!” Cherri Bomb opened the top of her latte to dump in a coffee liquor. “You always said if you ever got married, I'd be there!”

 

“He was bleedin’ all over the place, was I supposed to call you?” Angel leaned back, sipping his own cappuccino.

 

“Uh! Yes!!” Cherri recapped her drink. “Especially since it's this guy!!”

 

Husk looked up, a madeleine in his teeth.

 

“I thought you were just gonna fuck him.”

 

“He's old fashioned,” Angel lied. “Plus I've never been married before. I figured it'd be fun!” He grabbed Husk's chin and leaned down, biting off the other half of the cookie.

 

Cherri laughed into her hand and shook her head. “He's ancient.”

 

“We're the same age,” Angel argued, swallowing his mouth full. “I've just been in hell longer!”

 

“I'm also sitting right here,” Husk informed her.

 

“You look rough,” Cherri told him directly. “Like, not only the shit Angie’s insane brother did!” Angel winced quietly as she went on. “But you look like a rug!”

 

“Brutal,” Husk sighed, sipping his breve.

 

Angel jumped to his defense, “Husker isn't sleepin’ well!”

 

“Oh!!” Cherri was more interested now! “Are you two knocking boots all night?” She squealed as Husk’s blush showed through his fur. “Ang. Is he good?”

 

“So good!” Angel gushed. “I'm gettin’ spoiled, it's gonna ruin me.”

 

Cherri lowered her voice and leaned in. “So are you seriously quitting porn? Word is that Valentino is losing his fucking mind.”

“How'd you find out?!” Angel asked in surprise. “It was that sketchy director wasn't it?”

 

“Travis,” Husk bristled.

 

“Seriously? That's what you know about my videos?” Angel looked at him flatly. “My foot-obsessed-director?”

 

“He's a piece of shit!” Husk answered.

 

Cherri snorted. “The old pussy cat's right, though. It was totally Travis. He's whining about it online!” She showed Angel her phone. “But how'd you pull that off??”

 

“Through marriage. It's complicated, Cherri, I kinda wanted a break from explainin’ all my bullshit…It's been a long day with Nickie and other fuckin’ garbage.” Angel sighed and crossed his second set of arms. “Plus Husker isn't allowed to sleep anymore, so that's gonna be a whole thing.”

 

“I bet I can still sleep,” Husker said with a huff. “It's probably an overreaction.”

Now Cherri was even more confused. “... Because of all the fucking?”

 

“No, because he got all wrecked up by Nickie! See! I didn't wanna talk about it!!”

 

“You brought it up, Baby,” Husk said, but wrapped his tail around Angel’s leg. “But it's probably just PTSD or some shit.”

 

“Does PTSD make people scared of zippers? It don't make no sense,” Angel crossed his arms tighter.

 

“I mean, PTSD made me scared of egg salad for a good few years,” Vaggie swirled her cup around. “But what did zippers do?”

 

“It's a man covered in zippers. I think they're his skin,” Husk answered with a shudder.

 

“Oh, hot though,” Cherri grinned, “How many dicks do you think he's hiding?”

 

“Fourteen,” said Angel, “but he ate them all.”

 

Husk shuddered again, fluffing his wing nervously. “Not every time I fall asleep is a nightmare.”

 

“Do you think Vaggie might be full of shit?” Angel asked. “Over exaggeratin’ a bad dream?”

 

“They're just fuckin’ dreams,” Cherri agreed.

 

Husk nodded. “...But maybe I should stay awake until we figure it out.”

 

Angel sipped his cappuccino and considered. “Yeah, you've been sleepin' like 14 hours a day since your contract with Alastor broke, Husk, you sure about that?”

“Well he's a cat!” Cherri laughed. “What's he supposed to do?”

“To be fair, I was on morphine for like 5 of those days…” Husk tightened his tail around Angel’s leg.

 

“Do you got any left?” Cherri asked hopefully. “I'll trade you for some uppers. These little babies will keep you awake!” She pulled some pills from her pocket. “Angel, you want some?”

 

“Mmmmnnnnah, I'm actually handlin' sobriety pretty well today! I haven't even drank since yesterday.”

“Fuck. Married life is making you lame!” Cherri looked at Husk. “But how about you, Kitty?”

Husk considered. “I'm probably fine…” he took another sip, but stopped to yawwwn. He finished with a blep, his little tongue hanging out.

“You're so eepy seepy,” Angel stamped his feet as he squealed.

“You're such a furry, Angel,” Cherri said, even though she was equally charmed. “But seriously, you look like you're about to konk out, old man.”

Husk sighed heavily. He looked at Angel Dust, and then at Cherri’s hands. “What is it?”

“A bunch of good shit!”

“I got morphine back at the hotel…take it if you want it…is this gonna fuck me up?” Husk reluctantly held out his paw, letting her drop several multicolored capsules into it.

“Oh, yes it is!” Cherri shouted excitedly.

Angel tried not to look concerned. “I mean, you think he can handle all that, Cher?”

Cherri waved her hand at him. “Pshaw, he's old enough to be my great grandpa. Right, Huskee, you can handle it.”

“You can seriously just call me Husk,” he told her firmly. “But if it'll keep me awake…” Husk swallowed them with a mouthful of his drink. “It's not like it'll kill me.”

“Sure, right,” Angel said, tossing his coffee cup into a trash bin. “Are you two fuckers ready to go out then? We'll wanna be somewhere loud when those kick in…Husker, you're probably gonna wanna dance.”

 

“Oh?” Husk hopped to his feet, catching himself from falling with his cane. “I'll definitely take up less space on the dance floor now–Baby, you don't have to look so sad every time I bring up my wings.”

Angel covered his mouth and looked away slightly. “I'm not.”

“Oh my God, Angie, you're becoming a tittering mom to this old dude. You sure you don't want a pick-me-up? Maybe a little coke??” Cherri checked her purse.

“Cherri, for fuck's sake, I'm not doin’ it no more, so stop askin’!” Angel grit his teeth.

“Sorry, sorry, fuck! I'm not used to you bein’ all responsible.” Cherri sucked her teeth and stood up. “Are you still drinking at all? Or are you completely boring now.”

Angel scoffed and reached out for Husk's empty cup, tossing it away for him before storming outside. “I think I need a drink to deal with this today.” He rubbed between his eyes.

Husk watched him stand outside of the coffee shop, ears back.

“What the fuck is his problem?!” Cherri directed herself at Husk.

“Coming down is hard,” Husk said simply, “he's been without for almost two weeks…it's a hard hump to get over.”

“Could you go give him a hard fucking hump so we can get on with our day?!”

 

“Sex won't solve withdrawals, sweetheart,” Husk felt a prickling in the back of his head. “Just give us a minute.” He walked himself outside, lightly touching one of Angel’s arms.

“Hey,” Husk said, voice soft and gentle.

Angel frowned before turning his hand, reaching to hold Husk’s. “...hey.”

“Do you want to ditch her?” Husk kissed his fingers.

Angel laughed a little before frowning again. “No…getting off this shit is hard, Whiskers.”

“I know.” Husk rubbed his cheek against the back of Angel’s hand. “We could go home.”

“Charlie will harass me into doin’ somethin’ today…I don't think so.” He squeezed Husk's hand. “Can we go to a club? I wanna see you dance like an idiot on drugs.”

“I get the feeling I'll be doing that anywhere we go,” Husk said, kissing up his arm.

Angel giggled and swatted him off. “Okay, okay, let's go.” He turned and waved at Cherri to come outside. “Stop fuckin' offering me drugs today, bitch.”

“Fiiiine,” Cherri hugged Angel’s arms on his other side. “I just wanna show you a good time, you know that!”

Angel sighed. “Yea. I know. But not today. Today I wanna remember my husband lookin’ stupid.”

“Then let's gooo!!” Cherri said, tugging them forward with her. “We're actually early enough to catch some of the fuckin' drink deals today!!”

In spite of the bright red daylight outside, the club was dark and only lit up with cool, flashing colors. The music was thumping out enough to make Husk's wing twitch each time. He couldn't make out the words, but it didn't matter!

 

Instead, it felt good. Husk's brain had started to itch, and the music was scratching in a satisfying beat. He heard Angel laugh, which made him feel warm. Cherri yelled something about his footwork.

Husk was pretty sure at some point he'd gotten his hands on a trumpet, and he jammed out to the music while the crowd howled in excitement. It reminded him of a time he was high out of his mind in a club in Chicago back in the early 40’s.

Husk was barely focused on what was coming out of his mouth. He knew he was sat between Cherri and Angel Dust. He couldn't keep his hands off of Angel’s legs. “You're gorgeous,” he said over and over.

“Enough about that! I wanna know about Chicago!!” Cherri demanded.

“Oh, fuck, I was 12 years into a dead marriage, and I was just craving something different and wild! I hadn't done magic in ages, and I completely crashed my own stage!!” Husk realized there was a drink in his hand, so he gulped it down. “I was so fuckin’ embarrassed, but when I was having a drink after, I got to playing. Some asshole handed me a saxophone, and I fucking love blowing horns.”

 

“I fuckin' bet you do!” Cherri squealed.

 

Angel was enraptured, hanging on every word.

“And this little twink comes up to me, he's in the tightest fucking outfit I've ever seen,” Husk was offered a cigarette, so he took it. “And he's hanging all over me, saying how much he loved jazz. He asked if I had jungle fever!” Husk laughed noisily.

Angel looked horrified, but it seemed more internal than anything else.

“Baby, you good?” Husk asked, but Angel leaned over and kissed his face.

“Tell your story, sugar.”

Husk took a long drag on his cigarette, trying to focus again. “It was my first time with a guy, and he knew what he was doing! He fingered himself in front of me and sucked my cock like a champion.” He tapped the ashes into a tray Cherri offered. “When it got down to it, I think I fucked him half the night! I can't believe how long I could throw this kid around.”

Angel fanned himself, looking pleased and embarrassed.

“And I thought, well shit, how did I waste so much time on just women!?” Husk found his hand rubbing up the inside of Angel’s thigh, so he squeezed. “Men are so fucking hot!”

“Yea, that's SO true!” Cherri took a shot.

“Didja ever get his name?” Angel asked, gripping Husk's wrist.

“I can't remember, I was so fucked up! And I had another engagement in Indianapolis the next day, so I had to dip before he was even awake.”

“But you left a queen of hearts on the dresser with a ‘thanks for the lay,’ note on it,” Angel provided.

“Yeah, I–” Husk's ears perked. “Did I already tell this story?” He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. 

“No!” Angel laughed nervously, holding his head. “No fuckin’ way, Husk!”

Husk stared at him in confusion, the drugs seeping into his brain. “Do you wanna dance, beautiful?”

 

Angel laughed harder, covering his face. He nodded dumbly and let Husk drag him onto the floor.

“Those two,” Cherri rolled her eye, grinning.

Husk was sure Angel was having fun, hearing him shout eagerly as they danced. He registered Cherri joining them again!

“I'm gonna go get us some fresh drinks!” Angel shouted. “Keep an eye on Husker!”

“We're fine!” Cherri yelled back, turning to grind on some massive wolf.

Husk was enjoying how the music made him sway…until he stepped forward onto concrete. He grabbed for the cane hanging on his arm, and it wasn't there. Lights flickered between green and yellow, the crowd disappearing and reappearing with each flash.

“Oh shit,” Husk stumbled back, grunting as he hit a mass.

“Watch it!” A nondescript voice shouted.

Husk stared straight ahead as he saw it. The music faded away, replaced with the sounds as it began to approach.

Zzt…Zzt…Zzt…

He could see it closer than ever. Its face zipped up and down as it walked, revealing a large red orb hidden in inky blackness. Husk turned and bolted, abandoning his cane on the dance floor as he left on all fours.

  

Angel Dust laughed and shimmied his way across the dance floor. He saw Cherri’s hair and made his way over. “Got you a cocktail, toots!” He looked around, frowning in confusion.

“Uh, Cherri?!”

 

“Yes, bitch?! Want me to pay you?!”

 

“No! Where’s Husk?!”

 

“Huh!?!” She stopped dancing to hold her ear towards him.

 

“Where is my Husband?!?!” Angel stepped back to find him, stumbling. “Oh, shit,” he bent down to grab his cane. Another demon grabbed his hips as he did, grinding into Angel’s ass. He turned and smashed his drink into his head, “do you fuckin’ mind?!"

 

“Jesus Fucking Christ!!” The demon shouted, holding his face as he sprayed blood over the spider.

Angel shoved him back and started searching at knee level, looking for a hint of Husk anywhere.

“Oh for fuck's sake, he's fine!” Cherri stepped over the writhing demon to chase after him. “You're worrying too much!”

“He hasn't done anything hard since he was alive over forty fuckin’ years ago, Cher!” Angel shoved through a group, seeing a flicker of red outside.

 

Husker fell back onto his ass, kicking into the floor as he tried to find his footing again. He grunted as he hit a wall, dizzy from how fast his heart was racing. He clutched his chest, sure he was going to have a heart attack like the one that killed him.

 

It leaned down, wrapping it's lanky fingers around Husk's ankles.

 

“There you are!” Angel said in relief. However, Husker looked worse for wear. He was having a full blown panic attack on the sidewalk, shoved against the wall of the club. “Way to go, Cherri,” he yelled at her before moving to kneel next to him. “Husker? Can ya hear me?”

Husk's ears twitched and he opened his mouth, only to scream as he was dragged by his leg into the road.

“Can he normally run on his back?!” Cherri was actually alarmed now.

“Uh, No!” Angel was tired of her attitude today! He grabbed for Husk’s hands and pulled him back–

Husk watched in utter terror as the Zippered man buried a hand into the tuft of his chest.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT

 

“JESUS FUCK!” Cherri leapt back as there was a fountain of blood erupting from Husk’s chest.

Angel stared. Time slowed down…it was becoming easier to trust his hands to do what they needed. He shoved at the empty space above Husk, finding they collided with mass.

“Ah, ah, Angel?” Husk stared at the red sky above them. “It's raining?” Blood rained on his face in fat droplets, warm and comforting.

“Cherri, come make yourself useful, Fuck!” Angel demanded, directing her to hold his chest closed.

“Did he just fucking unzip his own body?!” Cherri was too high for this!

“Just hold it!!” Angel gripped at his own fur, letting out a grunt as he yanked out a long string. He bit it off with his teeth.

“Angel! What the fuck is going on?!” Cherri was definitely too high. “What the fuck are you gonna do with Yarn?!”

Angel ignored her and pressed it against Husk's chest, feeling stupid, but trusting his gut. Like a sewing machine, the string worked itself into Husk’s skin in a stitch.

“Oh, Fuck!” Husk yelled, closing his eyes tight.

Cherri sat back, letting out a breath. “Angie. Seriously.”

Angel clutched Husk into his lap, staring at the empty space in the road. For a brief moment, he'd seen it. “Fuckin' hell, Cherri.”

Cherri took a moment, pushing her bangs out of her face with a bloody hand. “...Sorry, Ang. I fucked up.”

Angel leaned down, pressing his face between Husk’s ears.

“Is it gone?” Husk asked, finally daring to look up again. “Did the rain stop?”

Angel breathed out shakily. “We're goin’ home.”

“Let me…let me call you a cab,” Cherri said. “It's the least I can do.”

“I fuckin’ got it,” Angel said sourly, pulling out his phone.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hiii i luv ur work^^ can i request a fic where carmy get sucked off so good it makes his brain short-circuit a little? like he came home all tired and pent up n reader just "blow" it all away. wanna see this man get taken care of🥺 he's alway got so much on his mind i just wanna see him fucked till his brain is empty

Short Circuit.

Carmy doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Luckily, you do.

pairing - roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 1.8k

authors note - carmy’s a little bitch in this one!! mwahahaha!! to my love who requested - i’m sorry I ended up making him a bit pathetic here, but in my defence… he does give off the energy of a wet cat, so. this set in the roommates universe, but the fics have no particular order <3

if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which in turn creates more. <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Carmy blinks at you like a deer caught in headlights, confused and struggling to process.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Carmen. Sit the fuck down before I shove you there myself.”

You gesture at the couch only a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest expectantly.

He exhales shakily before placing his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, walking over to do as you ordered.

He’s never really been bossed around by you before. Sure, you scold him occasionally, warn him when he does something wrong, but never like this. He can’t tell if he likes it. He thinks that maybe he does.

He gets comfy on the couch, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his legs. His white t shirt stretches deliciously across his broad shoulders, tight and worn. His old flannel pyjama pants look so cosy, you itch to reach out and run your hand across them.

Carmy’s watching you curiously, waiting for your next move. He can’t predict what’s going to happen, which would usually make him nervous. But right now, he’s got electricity buzzing through his veins, crackling and charged.

You set your own mug down and saunter over in his direction, as if you have all the time in the world. You stop at the window and shut the blinds, smirking over your shoulder when he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”

Carmy’s breath hitches in his chest, panting with anticipation. You crack your knuckles and stretch your arms above your head, suppressing a laugh when you see his eyes glued to the skin you expose between your t shirt and pyjama pants.

You stand in front of where he’s sat, patient and waiting. You look so tall, looking down on him, so completely powerful. He’s suddenly very confused by his own feelings.

“I’m sick of you bitching and moaning,” you begin, dropping to your knees on the patterned rug. “So I’m gonna make you shut the fuck up.”

Carmy suddenly sits up straight, full attention captured.

“What?”

“God, do you ever listen, Carmen?”

He’s silenced by your rebuttal, so you continue.

“You’re stressed to the max, and you don’t know how to leave work at work. You bring it home, complain for hours, and then wonder why you can’t relax. You need to shut your brain off.”

Carmy swallows harshly, eyes never leaving yours.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re not. I’m gonna do it for you.”

With that, you rise up onto your knees so you’re face to face with your roommate.

“You okay with this?” you whisper, searching his features for any signs of trepidation.

“More than okay,” he breathes, leaning in to you. “Kiss me first? Please?”

You don’t think anyone would be able to resist him in this moment, when he looks and asks so pretty.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You press your lips to his gently, testing the waters. Carmy instantly pulls you in with his arms around your back, deepening the kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and take control, nipping at his bottom lip when he gets too cocky.

“I’m in charge,” you tell him lowly. “If you wanna stop, say stop. But otherwise, I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember your own name.”

Carmen’s eyes roll back at the promise, head hitting the sofa behind him as he groans. You settle back down between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants off and throwing them aside.

You trail open mouthed kisses up his thighs, starting at his knee and ending at his hip. Occasionally you bite down, soothing the sting with your tongue as you go. When he starts to fidget, you fully sink your teeth into his muscle, sharp and warning. He flinches, and you smirk.

“Patience, Carmen.”

“Don’t wanna be fuckin’ patient,” he grumbles under his breath, petulant as ever.

You look up at him firmly, and he gets the message.

Running your fingers up and down his thigh, you sit and enjoy the way goosebumps rise across his skin. You’re on a power trip, buzzing with the adrenaline of having a man like Carmy at your mercy.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you tease, before dancing your fingertips across the material of his boxers. His hips buck up into your hand and you relent, pulling his underwear down and off in one quick move.

He hisses as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin, the combination of sensations overwhelming.

You kiss along his hipbones, tasting salt and the musk that’s so Carmy. Nudging your nose into the juncture of his thigh, you chuckle when he shudders.

“Please, babe.”

“What do you want, Carm?”

“Just- just do something, please. Anything.”

Maybe it’s the rare show of manners, or maybe it’s his pleading tone, but you finally take pity on him. Grasping him in your hand, you give your wrist an experimental twist, biting your lip when he groans.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all breathy and strained. He sounds so pretty like this, all loose limbed and pliable. “Shit, babe. Yeah.”

You take your time learning what he likes. Twisting, pulling, applying a little pressure. Carmy is writhing in his seat, completely unable to keep still. You keep pushing his hips back down firmly, putting him in his place.

He has his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back into the couch cushions, gorgeous neck exposed. You take him by surprise by wrapping your lips around him, sucking gently. His hand flies to your head, grasping for grip, for any kind of anchor.

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist as you hollow your cheeks. You rake the nails of your other hand down his thigh, squeezing occasionally to let him know you’re still good.

You feel his muscles go tense, knuckles gripping the cushion underneath him. He’s right on the edge - you can sense it.

So, you stop.

You pull away completely, laughing when his eyes shoot open, brows furrowed together.

“W-what? What the fuck? Why’d you stop?”

“Because I can.”

Carmy doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a sarcastic response. Instead, he sinks further into the couch, looking down at you with those big blue eyes.

“Babe.”

“So whiny. Jesus, Carmen, have some self respect.”

On any other day, he wouldn’t take that lying down. He’d sass you twice as hard, smirking when you roll your eyes. But today, he doesn’t have it in him.

“Please.”

“Oh you sound so pretty when you beg.”

He blushes, heat blooming up his chest and across his cheeks. He reaches out and traces your lips with his thumb, a tender gesture among all of the filth currently occurring.

“Do it more.”

He blinks at you, wondering if he heard you correctly.

“What?”

“Listen for once in your life, Berzatto. I said, do it more. Beg. Beg for it, and I’ll make you come.”

Carmy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He’s never seen this side of you before - in all honesty, you didn’t know it existed. He’s discovering a lot about himself tonight, and as confusing as it is, he’s loving it.

“Please, honey. Please.”

You click your tongue disapprovingly, shaking your head.

“Nuh uh. I want you to beg so hard that I am dripping, Carmen. Make it count.”

“You’re getting off on this,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You mime tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist, signalling him to hurry up. In reality, you’d kneel here on the rug all night if he wanted, content to watch him all high strung and flushed.

“Okay, okay. Sweetheart, please. Fuck, I need it. Need it so bad. Need you so bad. Just- give me anything, something, please.”

His voice has gone all breathy, shaky and unsure. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and the mental image of him crying because of you turns you on more than it should.

“Oh baby,” you coo. “Was that so hard? Hmm?”

He shakes his head, bitten lip between his teeth.

“Gonna give you what you need now, because you were so good. My pretty, pretty boy.”

It might be your tone, or it might be because you called him your boy, but Carmy melts. He’s nothing but a puddle, mewling and panting, no coherent thoughts left in his brain.

You get back to work, hollowing your cheeks and working whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your soft hands. You swirl your tongue, pressing it to the underside of him when you pull back slightly for air.

You wonder, for a second, if you’ve broken your roommate. Nonsense is leaving his lips in constant streams, babbling under his breath like he’s lost his mind.

“Yeah baby, keep going please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck you’re so good, s’good, so good.”

“Just wanna come, please honey, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

“Ohhh, yesyesyes, oh fuck, thank you baby, shit.”

You keep humming in response, and the vibrations are Carmy’s undoing. His hips jolt upwards as his back arches off the couch, fingers scrambling for purchase. He hits the back of your throat and you groan, letting him ride it out however he needs. He relaxes back into his original position, body completely spent.

You squeeze his thigh to get his attention, making sure he watches as you swallow everything he’s given to you. He groans, low and tired, shaking his head with a smile on his face. You rest your head on his leg, looking up at him.

“You good, Carm?”

He nods, trying to gather the energy to answer you properly.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I genuinely think I’ve never been better.”

You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, all slow and saccharine.

“I can’t move. Think you’ve ruined me.”

“That was the plan,” you wink, standing up and pulling his boxers back up his legs.

You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, watching as he downs it all in one go. Sitting next to him on the couch, he pulls you into his side, slotting you there perfectly.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the evening dusk of the room. “Not just for making me come harder than I ever have in my life. But, you know… for everything.”

You chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

“Next time you have a bad day, I’m gonna throw you on the couch and eat you out until you cry.”

You groan, pinching his thigh in warning.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

@enigmaticloki @kaelabear @idontexist-anymore @jazminsjaz @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

mean soap….what about mean könig?

This is the ask that GOT me earlier cause a mean König would make me screech. He would be nothing like our beautiful bb boy in Rocky start, he would be intimidating af! (and something about the fact I'd never considered something like this before got meeeeee)

Warning: Smut (18+), mean König

Mean König would take every chance he could to show you how weak you are, how easily overpowerable. He would pin you up against the wall, holding your two hands in only one of his while he clasped your jaw with the other, and put that big hooded face of his right up against yours. His eyes would be aglow with all the terrible thoughts they had swirling inside them, betraying a building tornado waiting to be unleashed. He'd growl low and menacing in your ear - you could swear you feel the cool blow of ice cold breath escape through the thick material, but really its probably the shivers wracking your body - and König would be so threatning and dominating.

"You know, even for a new recruit you're really quite pathetic. You can barely keep up with the others, you're slow and you're a terrible shot. I'm beginning to think this is all you're good for," he'd rumble, inhaling your scent through the hood.

"König! Please I didn't- I didn't mean to fuck up so badly in training today, those guys were much bigger and I just couldn't get an edge on them, can't you just give me a break?"

"No. And you know why? Because you need to learn a lesson, If you don't have the will to fight in a place like this...you're going to be eaten alive."

He'd yank your wrists then and throw you out in the middle of the room, and you'd stumble on the threadbare rug, cursing the old worn thing like it was sentient. As if it were to meaningfully blame for your downfall. Then you'd do your best to regain your balance as you stumbled toward the bed, gulping as you saw König advancing toward you again, his heavyboots landing hard on the squealing wooden floors.

"König, please! Be nice to me!"

"Poor little newbie, you want me to be nice? You don't think I'm being nice now? You want to know how mean I can really get?"

You'd whimper and watch as he advanced toward you, crossing the floor in a matter of seconds and pinning you down on the ground as if you were nothing. His full weight would come down on you and angle over your prone body like a monster inspecting its kill. His chest would lay heavily over yours and his legs would be impenetrable.

It didn't matter what you did. It'd be no use. You'd moan out and try to kick out at him, but he'd crowd you so badly you'd barely be able toget a foot free. You'd struggle, man you'd wriggle so hard and get so hot you could swear there were flames licking at your sides, but there's no way König would budge. You'd scream, headbutt, shove and twist your hands and fight all you could, but he'd stay on you like concrete that had moulded into place. It'd send you crumbling. You were just as every bit small and vulnerbale as he made you out to be.

"It's a good thing you have me watching over you, Schatz," he'd whisper, eerily low. "Who knows the levels of depravity that some of the men on this base might like to go to with you? Aren't you just so lucky you have someone that wants to protect you like this?"

A noise would ring out into the room, a sharp pitiful noise. A whine. A whine of anticipation, of fear, of longing, of unknown unnease. You'd shiver and try to close your eyes, try to pretend like you didn't want the giant on top of you to ravage you and take out every bit of anger. Your body would betray you though, he'd know. He always knew.

"Why don't you just lie back and let me take control now, hm? Leave everything up to me. You've never been one for thinking, afterall."

"König!"

you'd give one last try at a protest.

But it'd be no use, he'd harden his lake blue eyes into tundras and you'd purse your lips, not wanting to dissapoint him any further.

"That's right. Just listen to me, don't think. It's what you're best at, Schatz."

[future-dregs]

Okay so I'm having to catch up on my rewatch thoughts, and they're going to be all over the place because I am going Through. It. at the moment.

But let's start, and see what happens.

So.

Faith.

Faith is a difficult episode for me. Anytime Sam's faith is brought up it is.

But anyway.

At the beginning of the episode we see another emerging pattern. Sam's job is to grab the kids and run. Idk if there's a deeper meaning to this or not, it could simply be that Sam is just bigger and has more reach, but what I've noticed is that, though Dean is better on the whole with children, Sam is the one (usually) given the role of rescuer, the one to carry them out.

This is a horrible episode for Dean's self worth and his loathing complex and it starts that way immediately with him nearly fucking tasering himself to death to get the job done.

When the doctor tells Sam that Dean's time is very finite, you can just SEE the bottom fall out of his entire world.

Because Sam.never loses this you see, no matter how old he gets or what Dean goes through or how much damage they both take, he never fully loses this idolization of Dean. He never quite believes that Dean can actually be hurt enough to keep him down, that something could actually get the better of Dean.

Even though he worries for Dean's life constantly.

It's just another of the paradoxes in which they live.

Later we will Sam disparage the woman for what she's done, saying its evil. Dean interrupts with "desperate". This is because Sam hasn't yet reached the limits of what he'd do for Dean. He's willing to twist or break ANYTHING to save his brother, but he still thinks, and perhaps even only as a defensive mechanism, that he has a line, not to be crossed, good and evil choices.

Dean already knows he would chain Sam's reaper.

"What would you do for your brother?" It isnt even a question for Dean. Everything in him has been taken apart and rewired to Sam. He'd do anything. And he doesn't have to waste time thinking about it. And he KNOWS this about himself.

This is the first episode that Sam begins to learn it himself.

Dean has resolved himself to his fate, trying to put on brave face. For Sammy, of course, but also himself. It's a terrifying thing.

Sam goes into full research mode. There IS a solution and he WILL find it, because Dean's death is not something he will accept. I know by the end of he knew more about hearts than most surgeons.

And then. A miracle. A faith healer.

And oh. Sam believes.

Now. There's something I want to bring up. When Sam is going through the binding book, we see clippings of the previous victims. Notably an abortion rights advocate and an openly gay teacher.

And we see Sam's face twitch up when he sees them. And this is of course to indicate to us the bigotry behind why these people were chosen (if it wasnt obvious already) and to show that Sam doesn't share in it.

Thing is. I know that twitch. I've DONE it. Its recognition and yes this is part of my queer Sam agenda proof, thank you very much.

Dean's "I'm gonna pray for you" at the end just KILLS me, because he will. Maybe an older and more jaded Dean wouldn't, but this is a young and freshly bled Dean, all raw with guilt and doesn't think he even deserves to live. Of course he's going to pray for this girl.

This is just a really raw episode all around.

Sam wants to take the gift of Dean's life and run far away with it, but they can't. And he feels sick over knowing someone had to die for Dean, and he KNOWS it'll gut Dean empty, but he'd still do it.

Dean has a healed and healthy body, more time, an extension on life. And he's so guilt ridden he can't stand it. God has a plan for him, but God didnt heal him, and he doesn't even believe, but yet. He WAS chosen over everyone else, and he was restored.

And the preacher's wife is dead and his ministry is most likely over and who knows how HIS faith is holding up cause he just got the rug pulled violently out from under him and there's tentfull of desperate people begging for help and he CAN'T anymore.

And a faithless man promises to pray and two believers wait in agony for some comfort and response.

[undignifiedpopemobile]

my driver hotness rankings

besties and behateds of the jury, this is maybe the most unhinged thing i will ever post but it is my sistine chapel it is my mona lisa. this is to me what citizen kane was to orson welles. i will prove to you today that my driver hotness rankings are objectively correct. i have assembled the evidence i have constructed my argument. (love you ell this one's for you.)

20

nyck (i’m so sorry). look someone has to go last. i am not prejudiced against short kings but it must be acknowledged that in combination with the face he is giving gnome. also i have seen the shirtless pics, and he is more ripped than george for christ’s sake there are so many ridges on his torso. he looks, to steal a phrase from patton oswald, “painful to fuck.” and i don’t have a vibe check on him yet so there is nothing else to compel me (benoit blanc voice) also i am not yet convinced he’s fast, which would increase his standing, because, say it with me, being good at things is hot. check back in after a few races. the thing where they tied him to a wheel rack was funny but not enough.

19

pierre. he’s fooled so many people into thinking he’s attractive with his beard contour and his donald trump ass haircut covering a truly atrocious hairline but there is no force on earth that can cover being a crypto bro. i have known so many and they are, without exception, the worst and more irritating people on the planet. if you own an nft you are not hot. if you TALK about it you are less hot. he has abs or whatever but i honestly think he is too ripped, similar to nyck. and i haven’t even mentioned the fact he’s a pedophile! his narrative used to be compelling to me because he got kicked out of red bull and i love redemption but he is a mid driver and a bitch and christian was right to fire him.

18

lando. this one may be controversial but i’m right and i can prove it: he looks like he’s twelve years old. who am i, pierre? i think the fuck not. admittedly he has nice eyes but he has a very oddly-shaped head. i could snap him like a twig, which looking at my dating history is not necessarily a deal breaker, but it is if he’d whine like a little bitch the whole time. he has never known the touch of a woman and he never will. the vibes are also atrocious: he’s a spoiled brat, and his interests are twitch and golf?????? he might not say racial slurs but he definitely crosses the street if he sees a black man. says he feels “uncomfortable” being around gay men with his shit off. bitch. i must clarify that i don't actually hate him but he has committed the worst crime to me: being a little irritating.

17

checo. people say he looks like tom cruise with a double chin but i just watched top gun and no he fucking does not. he looks more grizzled than fernando but in a haggard way not in a rugged cowboy way and he’s got a dad bod but not in a hot way. and the vibes are fucking off, absolutely swagless. fucking come on he’s had two seasons of getting his ass HANDED to him by max every week. i know it’s hard to be max’s teammate or whatever but i am pointing to him and saying MID. i don’t know anything about him personally except he’s got rich sponsors, he probably cheated on his wife, and he’s a homophobe. however he will move up if he goes full rosberg in 2023 and ruins christian’s life i do not pretend to be unbiased. the thesis of this one is that it is not hot to be boring. but if he becomes interesting i will change my mind.

16

oscar. see lando. he looks like a child! i do not believe he is 21 they are LYING because he's actually 14 and it should be illegal to let him drive. i do not believe he remembers obama’s first election. he’s up higher because i believe he is considerably more attractive than lando he has a sweet honest face i would kiss his little cheeks. but is he hot? ask again in five years. the narrative is also compelling to me because he did said “fuck the french” and that is hot that is HOT, but again, as of yet no vibe check. i see something in his eyes that indicates to me he may win the twink war but until first blood is spilled that is only hypothetical. sorry oscar nothing against you honey.

15

kmag. ok look. maybe i just don’t remember what kmag actually looks like but the picture on the f1 website is not flattering he looks like the stock photo wincing old man. i don’t think he’s unattractive really but i cannot put him above the rest of this list i fear! when he got pole that was really hot but what else is he giving? talking about balls? that wasn’t hot when dan did it and it’s not hot for kmag either. the vibe check should have enough data to produce something but it is coming up empty!!! i just do not know i’m sorry kevin. you do not have the x factor. you are not irritating, but to me, you are boring.

14

estie! you know he was below kmag but today i saw that gifset of him with long hair…. i could fix him (get him a hair stylist) he’s uncomfortably lanky. rat man may be affectionate, but rat man nevertheless. also i played myself by comparing himself to the flushed away rat because now i cannot see him without thinking about that. he’s got a really hot girlfriend which means he’s probably a feminist (will go down on a woman) and i know he doesn’t come from money. both of these things compel me tis true! but they are not enough to overcome the tragic truth that he looks like a cartoon character

13

hulkenberg. look ell i know i said he was conventionally attractive and i stand by that. he IS. but he also looks like a fucking ken doll. he has the GR wax doll disease. he went into the uncanny valley and he fucking founded a city-state there he’s building fucking governance structures and supporting a small private army to defend trade routes. his skin is so like….. tight. uncomfortable. and he is not redeemed by the vibe check. a million fucking races and no podium? and he wasn't only in shit cars! he was supposed to be a world champion coming up through the feeder series and he fell short of his potential. falling short of your potential is narratively compelling, but not in a hot way. i am pressing the big buzzer that says MID. boring.

12

lance. literally forgot about him until i got to number seven and then i was like….. wait a minute wait a fucking minute. he and nando are mirror opposites lance is here purely by virtue of his conventionally attractive little face. i can hear the ghosts of my jewish ancestors telling me to settle down with the nice billionaire jewish boy. but you know what? his voice is fucking irritating as shit and he has the least interesting variety of daddy issues. he’s got no fucking personality and he’s a nepo baby and he’s a mid ass driver and lawrence will not convince me otherwise by holding a gun to nando’s head and making him say shit about how good his stupid little failson is. 

11

NANDOOOOOOO ok i know this one is controversial but i don’t give a shit it’s my list. i know he’s fucking eighty do you think i care? no. i couldn’t give less of a shit what he looks like. all that matters to me is that he wakes up every single day and chooses to be a mischievous little bastard who foments….. something. el plan etc etc. yes he fucking blackmailed mclaren yes he has committed war crimes yes he is a misogynist. what is this twitter? i do not have to be morally correct here. and lest we forget he is in fact a fantastic fucking driver (hot). let the slow dismantling of the stroll dynasty begin. and he has the most important variable in my calculations: he is interesting.

10

guanyu. my problem here is vibe check coming up empty. he’s reasonably good looking, he’s nice, he seems to be in love with val (good taste! see the coffee video) he’s the second most stylish man in the paddock mostly by virtue of the competition being fucking pathetic. he’s a little short but i am not prejudiced against short kings! but personality wise i fear there is not much there although probably this is on me for being a dumb american and not speaking chinese. also he’s like. ungodly rich. like richer than stroll. and the CCP of it all is not beautiful. perhaps most damningly: is he a good driver? i do not know! give him another year, but the jury remains undecided. he is right in the middle but i reserve the right to move him up pending developments

9

logan. you don’t know how much it pains me to put this motherfucker in the top ten. he looks like he was recruited into the us military directly out of high school because he was failing english and knew he couldn’t get into college, but unfortunately he is also objectively very handsome. he’s not higher for obvious reasons (florida. donald trump.) but i cannot put him lower purely off the virtue of his captain america fucking face. fuck him i hope alex makes him cry real tears on track by lapping him in every single race. but he is hot. maybe he'll prove me wrong and he can stay here! but if he brings fucking..... jd vance or whatever as a guest to a gp it's straight to 20 i shit you not.

8

alex. out of all the men on this list alex is probably the one i would most like to date. he’s nice, he’s reasonably charming, he’s a feminist, he’s got the angst of losing that red bull seat without the pierre of it all, he’s got the compelling homoerotic friendship with george but you know what this is not sash’s list of dateable men it is driver hotness and we must acknowledge the fact that he is not particularly good looking! like estie he has a fucking banana nuts hot girlfriend, but facially he is not always giving. he’s cute; he’s not necessarily hot. he’s this high only because i kept bumping him up because i was like “well i can’t put him below fucking LOGAN”. also, while i believe he’s a good driver, is he REALLY good, or just good? beating the shit out of latifi does not convince me of anything! like mick beating the shit out of mazepin it’s pretty much guaranteed to happen.

7

max. ok ell hear me out. right now he is not looking too hot but it's because of the bad haircut and he’s not racing. being good at things, say it with me, is hot and the only thing, the ONLY THING in max’s life is being good at racing. he’s fucking fast. also, he seems like he’s actually kind of a fun guy. when he laughs at his own jokes that is very cute i think. the little eye crinkles. the cheeks. when he’s got his hair grown out a little and a five o’clock shadow going… he can fool me into thinking he’s actually good looking and doesn't a little bit resemble sid the sloth from the ice age movies (sorry. but it's true) and the version of him i have made up in my head and convinced myself is real is extremely fucking compelling!!!! admittedly the kelly dynamic almost knocked him down but it takes two people to make a dynamic and i guarantee you i would not be giving any maternal energy at all. i think i could fix him (introduce him to pegging)

6

yuki. that’s right fuck you. he’s funny as fuck and we could do karaoke together. i would carry him around in my tote bag and he could eat off the children’s menu at restaurants (cost of living is high you save where you can.) he’s giving face and he’s giving body he’s actually so fucking handsome and the reason people are sleeping on how beautiful he is is because of the particularities of anti-asian racism, where “western” people read traditionally east-asian features as unmasculine, and therefore they are either fetishized or dismissed as romantic/sexual partners entirely. well i’m anti-racism bitch! yuki is HOT! also i know he’s not that good at driving or whatever but do you know what’s even hotter than being good at things? not giving a SHIT!!!! yuki is the spiritual successor to kimi raikonnen on this grid i’m fucking right and i’m the only one brave enough to say it. f1 is a hobby for him and he treats the sport exactly as it should be treated (with disdain, like it’s a mild inconvenience or errand on par with vacuuming) maybe this is inconsistent with my "being good at things is hot theory" but you know what? fuck you. it's my list i do what i want. if i contradict myself than i contradict myself

5

george. yeah…… i’m quite frankly a little shocked and upset he’s this high. i know i made this list myself but i’m not keeping track very well in all honesty and i’m about four drinks in. but you know what? i’m not blaming alcohol. this is accurate for my hotness rankings. i’m a bit of a george girl at the moment. every new fact i learn about him makes him more compelling to me. he's the george bit of alex's homoerotic relationship with george! really i only need one story about him to compel me: getting himself into the merc driver program with the power of microsoft powerpoint. he’s the most “he’s just like me fr” driver on the grid for me and i’m a big enough woman to admit that. the version of him i’ve made up inside my head has a personality and you know what? unfortunately for the haters he has proved them all wrong and he’s an excellent fucking driver. i don’t think he’s better than lewis but he stood up to the pressure of that second merc seat fucking fantastically even with his biological father there judging his performance the whole time! and i know he looks a little bit like a robot but it must be admitted! he is attractive! he’s got a great body! idk i’m gaslighting myself i guess it’s my deep-seated american desire to infiltrate the upper classes of england and bring it all down from the inside. but i’m keeping him in spot number five. and fuck anyone who disagrees.

4

valtteri. i mean. other than yuki the closest to kimi we can get on the current grid. lost his merc seat and immediately said “my ass will be fully out for the rest of my life and there is nothing you can do about it” can you imagine the amount of time toto wasted just saying “no valtteri you cannot post hole on instagram”. he’s a feminist he’s an icon! he’s not an outstanding driver but he’s solid! by number of wins currently fourth best cunt on the grid i believe! the mustache! he has alex albon energy in that i would actually date him but i think he’s more attractive. he is the only blond-haired blue-eyed man on the list who does not even a little bit activate the “nazi detector” in my brain which is admittedly a little overactive in the current political climate. i don’t know love isn’t rational. but i love him. i love him, your honor. and you will not convince me otherwise with facts (he's not really objectively all that physically attractive)

3

carlos. look the ferrari boys were pretty close together and ell i know you disagree with me here but ultimately it comes down to one thing i will discuss in the charles ranking and a couple things i will discuss here. yes he’s hot. fucking obviously. it’s barely worth pointing it out he’s outrageously attractive. but as i have said many times hotness is about more than the physical! and the vibe check is mixed. he does have the most compelling flavor of daddy issues (father is loving and supportive but still an unattainable ideal. the closest thing to god on earth for carlos sainz jr is carlos sainz sr and what a terrible legacy that is to bear) but on the other hand golf! and he has a weird and not very sexy voice! and he’s probably violently catholic! and there’s stories about him being kind of a dick to fans! i did not verify either of those things but fuck you this isn't journalism. and, most damningly, i believe that when it comes to driving he is…… FUCKING MID. there i said it. he got lucky his first year with and he’s still in denial about being the second driver to charles leclerc. have you seen the fucking instagram? girl fred vasseur may say he'll let it be decided on track but charles is coming to family dinners in the vasseur household. delusion is not hot unless it’s in a funny way (see: fernando, el plan). and i swear to christ if he messes up even a single race for charles this season because he thinks he’s better i will knock him down to the bottom of his list without remorse.

2

charles. it’s my list fuck you. other than george, charles (the version of him i have made up inside my head) is the most like me on the grid. he is— pause for dramatic effect— fucking COMPELLING. (benoit blanc voice) you know i love a narrative and he’s got a fucking narrative. he plays the piano (hot) he’s got the sexiness of the french language without the lameness of being french (yes i believe monaco is a historical mistake and a geopolitical aberration and should be incorporated into france and all those cunts should pay taxes but objectively monaco is very sexy!!! walt whitman i contain multitudes) and he’s got the catholic guilt of driving for ferrari without the lameness of actual catholicism (looking at you carlos) is he the most interesting bitch in the world? no. but he can hold a conversation, he has more interests than just racing and video games, and he’s much funnier in french, and as these boring ass guys go he’s pretty funny even in english. also, again, takes two to make a dynamic and i am funny enough for any two people on the planet. also, and this must be said, he’s a fucking excellent driver. BEING GOOD AT THINGS IS HOT! AND we have not even mentioned the fact that physically speaking he is what we call a Specimen. he’s got body, he’s got face. i know you don’t think he does ell but with respect you are wrong. he’s got the cheekbones he’s got the nose he’s got the fucking ridiculous shoulder to hip ratio, he’s got the hand porn. he has literal protagonist eye syndrome (they appear to be different colors depending on the lighting) he’s fucking insanely hot.

1

Lewis. I mean it’s just quite literally the only correct answer. he’s giving face, he’s giving body. the tattoos! dan thinks he has cool tattoos but he has pete davidson disease lewis actually has really cool tattoos. but his hotness is literally the least compelling thing about him. he’s multi-talented (music??? so hot) he’s not just a racer, but like, let’s not discount the fact he is the best f1 driver of all time. like i’ve established it’s hot when people are good at things (except golf). he’s not a businessman he’s a business, man. he’s got mad fucking drip. his politics are.............. of mixed quality really but by comparison he's practically bernie sanders. of all the drivers he’s the one i think i could make a socialist if i had a twenty minute conversation with him. i could get him to read marx i could get him to read zizek. not even to mention the compelling fucking narrative of his life. the karting years the brocedes of it all the mclaren civil war he is producing CONTENT. yes he speaks like a motivational poster and the dog account is cringe but the flaws make him human. if he were too perfect he would be less hot. 

this is the judgement of the court

[rainwaterapothecary]

"Unsettled" (A Serennedy Golden Compass au) pt. 2

[Pt 1][Quick Lore Explanation] ("Speaking aloud" - "Speaking telepathically between human and daemon")

A safe distance from the Arctic Islands Research Compound, 1947.

The agent’s blond hair was so caked in Dust-gathering solvent, grease, and sweat that it barely moved when he plopped his head down on the thick carpet of Luis’ safehouse. His ribs expanded slowly before contracting with a spasm as his massive, white wolf daemon copied his action right on top of him.

“Thanks, Cucciola.” He coughed. His daemon merely completed his inhale with a gusty, canine sigh.

”I missed you, let’s never fucking do that again.”

Leon nodded, his body awakening aches and scrapes with every centimeter that thawed.

Blue eyes blinked up at the cabin’s hewn-log ceiling.

“Panza was a moose.”

Laughter sounded from near the fireplace as Luis Serra settled the kettle on its hook.

“Sí, he was.”

“He was also a lizard.”

“A salamander, but yes.”

“I can be a monkey, too. Luis says it might unsettle people though.” A tiny, peach-fuzzed head came into view just in front of Leon’s eyes, causing them to cross as they took in the tiny monkey’s big eyes.

Then Panza pushed his eyes further apart as he morphed into a tarsier, just to fuck with their old friend.

It worked.

Swearing in enough languages that their entire block would have been proud, the ex-guard shoved himself backwards, dragging Fiorire’s bulk with him.

“Fuck, Panza, what is wrong with you?!”

The cheeky daemon made small noises that could only have been laughter before he bounced into the air and landed as a blindingly red macaw on Luis’ shoulder.

“Fanfarrón.” Luis smiled, offering the daemon a dried piece of fruit. Panza continued to make laughter noises in the unnerving way birds have.

Leon shook his head in wonder, dropping his skull back into the soft rug.

“You never Settled.”

Luis turned to him, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

Leon was lucky for the arctic winds keeping him awake enough for this conversation. Even then, all he had in him was a dubious eyebrow raise.

The scientist chuckled again and settled himself, cross-legged, on the rug by his old friend’s head.

“He Settled for a while, shortly after Abuelo and I got back to Spain.” Thick, brown eyebrows furrowed at the sad memories.

“What, not enough ladies to impress?”

Luis snorted and ruffled Leon’s decidedly disgusting hair.

“None half as pretty as the rompecorazones I left behind in Harlem.”

Leon wrinkled his nose at the nickname.

“I’m sure Ellie was heartbroken.”

“Who?”

Leon hit his friend on the knee with the back of one hand.

“Baker’s girl, over by the plaza with the fountain.”

Luis genuinely had to think before any sort of face matched a name.

“She threw a rock at my head that one time, when we were buying rolls.”

“Oh!” Luis snapped his fingers as he aligned a memory with the name. Then he shrugged with a helpless smile down at his friend.

Leon looked between his gray eyes, trying to understand what was going on behind them before another thought shot to the forefront.

“Luis! You got a beard!”

The other man looked down as if to see the thing on his chin before beaming at his friend.

“Yes! Hormones are fascinating.”

“’S that why you were way up here? Working with hormones ‘r something?”

The light in the seated man’s eyes dimmed.

“Ah, no, I’m afraid. I…” His eyes wandered over to the low bookshelf filled with journals, both private and scientific. Another weak pat on his knee from the back of Leon’s hand brought his attention back down.

“D’worry about it. You got me out, ’s what counts.”

It was as if uttering the sentiment aloud made it real, and all the fatigue of the past four months- hell, since the end of the war two years ago were suddenly upon the emaciated man. Delicate, blond eyelashes fluttered closed as Leon fought for his thoughts.

“Ve a dormir, Sancho. We’ll keep you and Fiorire very safe.”

Whether it was the weight of the torture he’d been put through, the force of the Arctic weather in the prison he’d been kept in, the knowledge that his dearest friend was back, whole, and had survived the fucking war, or the comfort of being able to hold his daemon to his chest for the first time since he got caught smuggling kids out of their cells…

He only realized he’d fallen asleep when he awoke beneath a heavy blanket and a heavier wolf daemon. Her white fur caught the sunlight of the Arctic’s permanent noon as she conversed with her old friend. Panza was still in his bright red macaw form, standing with one leg on the back of a chair Luis had put by the bed for him. With the other foot he was motioning like Luis used to when they were kids and he got excited. Fiorire’s tail gave his consciousness away when it flumped twice in greeting. He buried his fingers deeper into her thick coat.

“He’s awake!” Panza called out behind himself, to where a brown blob that must have been Luis sat. Maybe Leon needed more sleep if his vision was this fucked.

“Shhh Panza, let them sleep, parlanchín.”

“Mm, no- M’wake.”

Warm chuckles sounded from that red clay-colored blob and Leon found himself smiling at the sound.

“You sound it, amigo!”

“Mentiroso.” Panza muttered, mutinously. Luis waved him off as he got to his feet and crossed the cabin on long legs.

What had little Luis gotten so tall? That sweater was a good color on him…

When Leon smiled up at Luis, the taller man felt his heart break at the sight of crows feet around those clear, blue eyes he remembered.

Leon had grown up without him.

Settling himself on the chair he’d parked beside the bed for Panza to perch on, Luis leaned forward to take in his friend, cataloging what damage he could see over the blankets and trying to push the fact that each hurt and abuse was inflicted on his Sancho. His baby-faced friend who had been thrown into a cage and torn from his daemon over and over just to further Luis’ own research…

He shook his head, curls that Leon remembers kept shorter than they were back in New York bouncing jovially. Europe had been good for the man, it really solidified his sense of style…

A startlingly warm hand settled on Leon’s forehead to feel for a fever and neither man addressed the wounded sound that left Leon’s lips at being touched. Luis flipped his hand over and felt his face with the backs of long fingers.

“Y’r sad…” Leon looked down at his own arms in perplexion when they didn’t heed his call to action. He had things he wanted to do. Like smooth out that concern line between Luis’ eyebrows.

Fiorire huffed, her doggy ribs expanding as she breathed…smack-bang on top of his arms. Traitor.

”You love me. Now calm down, your human is speaking.”

Your human.

Summer days spent jumping off swings and chasing one another through alleyways while they dodged returning seamen and laborers rushed past Leon. On those boys’ heels came the smells of Nonna’s cooking, just waiting for the two laughing scamps to wash their hands and their faces, say their prayers, then fill their bellies. A small boy weaving giant stories with the aid of his ever-shifting daemon: now a bird with island-bright plumage, then a coyote howling into the desert stars, later a tiny snapping crocodile…

Running along the pier until that boy disappeared from view, still waving where he stood holding tight to his Abuelo on the ship taking him away.

Leon blinked back to the present where that boy leaned over him, grown and filled with life, if sporting more worry lines than someone their age probably should. Not that the supine man had any room to talk, he was sure.

Chocolate curls diffused the light like the earth they had dug in until Leon’s grandmother had admonished them and Luis’ grandfather had pulled them aside and taught them to make things grow out of their bullish destructive tendencies.

“Leon?”

He was trying to focus on that voice, those eyes that were so familiar behind the curtain of Time.

Blue eyes slipped closed once again and Luis let him sleep.

---

A/N Panza is such a bastard, I love him.

Back to writing... I'm at least two posts ahead, so I should be able to upload as I feel like it. (The whole thing will be cross-posted on my ao3 when it's complete. <3)

For silly thoughts and previews - I've been tagging stuff for this au as 'serennedy daemon au'!

I only speak English, please be kind to me I'm going off of rules I learned when I was like 12. ;;

[Part 3]