#thank you for indulging me by sending in a request for him i owe you my life

[luveline]

hi lovely jade!! I had an idea for a request: reader who’s pretty independent who hurt her back working out and now can’t walk/shower/etc on her own for a few days x any of the marauders (I really do love them all and especially the way you write them. you can also make this poly!marauders if you feel so inclined).

this is definitely self indulgent, so please feel free to ignore it if it doesn’t do the creative trick.

thank you for sharing your lovely writing with us and being lovely overall!

sending so many hugs to you!!

hi honey, thank u for requesting!! hope u get better soon <3

the boys take care of you when you hurt yourself. fem, 1.2k

You wake in Sirius’ bed with James curled over you protectively. This is not unusual. What is strange is that Sirius seems to have already gotten up for the day, his sleep shirt thrown in a crumpled mess at your feet and his phone off the charger. You scrub at your tired eyes and consider going to look for him, figuring he's probably in the den (or office, depending on which boy you ask), but your back gives a twinge, and then a throb, and you remember the night before. 

You rub James’ arm and push it off of your chest, preparing mentally for the pain. You've tweaked it a few times in the past, the next day always being worse than the actual time of injury, and yet the pain you're met with is instantaneously disarming. 

“Ow,” you can't help but whine, trying to bend forward away from the pain, and finding you can't manage that, either. You gasp as heat races up your spine and across your shoulders, everywhere and nowhere, like the press of a hot hand. 

James mumbles, “What's the matter?” with his head still buried in the pillows. 

“James, I think I've really hurt myself.” Tears squeeze so quickly out of the corners of your eyes that you don't have time to recognise the heat of them. Other sensations are more pressing. 

You don't know if he's looking at you, but you can feel his careful touch working its way up his arm, and hear the ruffle of the sheets as he gets up. “What?” he asks, his voice stretched with the early hour. 

“Last night, when we were lifting, I– I pulled my shoulder and I thought it would–” You make a strangled sound. “It's really bad, what do I do?” 

“Woah, woah, don't panic!” He leans in, your blurry view suddenly filled with his gentle face. 

James soothes it from there, so to speak. He shushes you softly when you start to sob and helps you lay back down, wiping your tears, not a lick of panic about him. “It's okay, it's okay,” he murmurs, “does that feel better?” 

It's better flat, but not gone. “I can't sit up.” 

“That's okay,” he says, bringing your hand to his lips, where he kisses your fingers. 

He waits for you to calm down before grabbing his phone from his room. It's much later in the day than you'd thought, and Sirius will be working his afternoon shift, while Remus could be anywhere. He likes to write in cafes or parks, somewhere away from the hubbub of the house, lest he be distracted, waylaid with kisses, or pestered into helping make dinner or do laundry or whatever needs doing that day. 

“Hey,” James says, hushed, “you okay? Mm… can you come home?” A startled question that betrays the first recipient, Remus’ rasp on the line. “Yeah, I'm fine, it's our little gym rat sweetheart, she's strained her back, she's a bit upset… No, not yet. You think she'll let me?” 

“I'm not going to the doctor’s,” you call to him. James smiles at you from the door. 

“We’ll see,” he shoots back. “Yep yep. Okay. Well, he's in work… Okay. Yeah, okay. Love you, see you in a bit.” 

“What can he do?” you ask. “You should've left him.” 

“Same thing as me.” He runs his hands through his hair. It's a little too long again, dark and thick, curled at the base of his neck with flicks behind his ears, though it's short compared to Sirius’ mess. When he drops his arms, the noon time sunshine kisses his brown skin with a gorgeous warmth, and emphasises the lines of veins where they run up his arms. “You look like you're in agony,” he says, covering his mouth with a hand. “Is it really that bad?” 

You nod miserably. 

He sits next to you carefully, but now you've awoken your pain it won't sleep, and each millilitre of the mattress's distension prompts a new layer of aching. “Sorry,” he says, sounding like he could cry for you, “why didn't you tell me last night?” 

James wraps his arms around you in a strange way, trying not to jostle you as he leans down to touch his nose to your forehead. 

“I didn't think it would be this bad.” 

He talks a little about the doctor's while you wait for Remus to come home. It isn't a waste of time, he insists, the GP is there for a reason. 

You're surprised when it's Sirius who shouts up the stairs. “You okay?” he calls. 

“Sirius?”

James shrugs. “Remus must've told him. We're fine!” 

A rush up the stairs. Sirius pauses by the door, frowning at you both in his bed. “What did you do?” 

“Well, I didn't mean to,” you say. 

“Not you, darling. James, I told you to look after her, all that equipment freaks me out, and Remus agrees.” 

James sighs. “He doesn't mean that.” 

Sirius goes to sit with you but stops upon noticing your wince, and instead flops down on the floor near the wardrobe with his phone to his ear. “I'll get an emergency appointment.” 

“This isn't an emergency,” you say. 

“It is for you. You'll need a sick note sorted anyways.” 

“But it's not that bad.” 

“Sweetheart,” Sirius says, smiling at you softly, an uncommon expression on him, though not unseen, “I know when you've had a big cry.” 

He gets put on hold, saving you the further ache of the line music while James strokes your temple. You attempt to hide how much your back hurts, but you're hurting bad and the knowledge that it's not about to go away soon is genuinely scary. 

Remus understands uncertain pain. He's last to come home but certainly not the least concerned, shoving his laptop case onto Sirius’ dresser, freeing his hands in favour of your face. “Is it bad?” he asks, looking between you and James for an answer. 

“Not really,” you say. James’ face must say differently. 

“What painkillers have you taken?” he asks quickly, “I have co-codamols, did you take paracetamol? You can't have them at the same time.” 

He frowns deeply at your daunted look. “You haven't taken them already, have you? They're very strong by themselves, with paracetamol as well, you'd–” 

“I haven't taken anything,” you admit. 

Sirius sighs and rubs his nose into his palm. “Jesus.” 

“Oh,” Remus says, hands especially tender, even as he laughs, “of course you haven't.” 

“I was a bit distracted.” 

He sobers, stroking the fat of your cheek and then leaning down for a careful kiss. “Of course. Haven't eaten anything either, I suppose?” 

“No, sorry.” 

He kisses you again and pulls away. “That's okay. What about you, Jamie, did you eat?” 

They take care of you in their different ways, in the same way they take care of one another. “No,” James says, “but I have it. Swap places with me, I'll make dinner while we wait for the GP to answer.” 

“You can make supper at the same time,” Sirius jokes.

You laugh and hurt your back. He is very, very sorry. 

[mixtapedoh]

ahh idk if you’re still doing the concept moodboards but if you still are, may i request junhui + fake relationship or secretly dating au? thank uuu <3

olive notes: hi jen! i am still doing the moodboards ♡. also, yesterday i saw that the fic i wrote for you didn't post but went to my drafts instead??? genuinely, wtf, i'm so sorry that happened, and i'm going to post it tomorrow 😭😭😭.

⋰˚☆ wen junhui x secret dating! au . . .

"if your advice is to be so trusted, why aren't you in a relationship, jun?"

a sigh. immediately followed by a snort from you and inspired laughter from shua, who was never one to be afraid at finding enjoyment in his own jokes, of course, but a sigh all the same and a roll of his eyes. shua was asking for his opinion, was he not?

"yeah, junnie" — and your eyes sparkled with something infectious, like to coax a grin out of anyone you hoped to conspire with, barring, of course, someone with a willpower as strong as him — "why aren't you in a relationship?"

the man in question nudged you playfully and you leaned into the sway, silent laughter still coloring your breathing, fading and impressionistic, inspiring anyone with a desire for more.

"first i'd have to get rid of you. scaring everyone off."

and the conversation drifted from there. eventually, you all finished your meals and played the game of 'i've got the bill!' 'no; i'll pay." 'really, i owe you from last time.' and once you were all sufficiently fed and satisfied with your dance of politeness, you parted ways — joshua had to go help jeonghan with something or another, and you were easy to make an excuse of needing to run some errands. jun offered to accompany you, shua left with advice and more than enough mirth to fill his week, and that was seemingly the end of your little lunch date get-together.

it was when shua was confirmed gone that the true teasing begun.

"poor little junnie; all this affection, but no one to spoil."

"poor little (n/n), with all this teasing, but no one endeared enough to receive it."

you scoffed, and jun pulled you to the inside of the sidewalk, his fingers lacing with yours. you brought your intertwined hands to your lips to kiss them, and the two of you kept walking, indeed stopping at the supermarket like you'd told shua you would.

there was no real reason, truly, why you had jun had been dating for the last 4 months but hiding it from everyone else. just a 'why not?' sentiment that filled the both of you with giddy laughter — a silly secret that gave you an inexplicable rush. because kissing jun for the first time in the middle of his living room had been so addicting, and then immediately having to play it off afterward, when woozi walked in, oblivious to the encounter that had taken place while he was in the kitchen, had been even more exciting.

and then playing off the teasing that hoshi always entertained, trying to thoroughly convince the ever watching eyes of hao... it was a simple thrill, a cheap enjoyment. seungkwan had almost been the unfortunate friend to stumble upon your clandestine love-affair more than once, and the way that jun stumbled over the awkwardness of being near-caught would never fail to be wholly adorable and a silly kind of charming that made these first experiences between you all the more entertaining. why not? you already had your cake, why not indulge in the feeling and eat it, too?

and jun was so lenient with your every desire, in no small part due to the fact that he enjoyed the exhilaration of it, too.

after all — he thought as he came up behind you to grab a package of ramyeon off the shelf and, sticking it in the basket you held, rested his chin on your shoulder only to receive a peck on the cheek from you, absent minded, but offhandedly pulled from the deep well of where your affection for him resided — having a secret with you was all he'd wanted for longer than you could possibly know.

send me an idol + a concept & i’ll give you a little moodboard & blurb

[ddejavvu]

hiya sweetheart hope you're doing well,

i've had one of the worst migraines today and have been flipping back and forth from throwing up and crying and now multitasking doing both. Would it be okay for a VERY self indulgent request for aaron comforting the r in this situation

if you're not comfortable writing this just ignore me babe xx

sending you all my love

i'm sorry you're so sick lovey! i hope you get better soon :')

cw: mentions of vomit/sickness

With all of the tender love and sweetness you owe yourself, you know that this is the ugliest you've ever looked. There's dried sick on your chin that you can't wipe away, because you've used all of the toilet paper to blow your nose. It means that the tears sliding down your cheeks run into the stains, and you reach up weakly to flush the toilet of your sickness.

You've been down for the count all day, but your stomach really did not appreciate the soup you'd nursed your migraine with at lunchtime. You thought something easy would be good for the migraine-induced nausea, but apparently you weren't supposed to eat anything at all.

All you can do is let your chest and stomach heave in tandem, hoping that you'll have the strength to lean forward if you need to be sick again.

You hear the door open and shut, each noise that Aaron makes by simply getting home from work shooting like nails into your head that your brain hammers into itself. You whimper weakly against the toilet seat, slumping forwards as your stomach churns again, and Aaron stops dead in the doorway on his search to find you.

"Oh, honey," He murmurs, sympathy lining his voice, but it's too loud. You throw out a weak hand to silence him, dry heaving into the bowl.

"Okay," He whispers, smoothing your hair away from where it's been slicked to your forehead with sweat. He rubs his hand down your back, and you feel him secure it with a headband, one that you use when washing your face.

"Be right back," He informs you, still in that breathy whisper. You don't bother nodding as he leaves, too overwhelmed, but he knows you've heard him, and he ends up soaking a washcloth in warm water in your other bathroom so that the noise doesn't bother you.

When he brings it back he gently takes hold of your face, lifting your chin off of the toilet seat and wiping it clean. You know it smells, you're eternally grateful that he's not shutting you in until you're over your nausea.

"There," He hums, voice so soft that it sounds like a secret, "All clean. Can you stand?"

"No," You whimper, shaking your head as he pries at your shoulders, "I- I need a trash can!"

"Okay," He soothes, talking away from you so that his voice doesn't bother you, "I'll bring the can. Let me carry you."

You're limp in his arms as he hauls you off of the floor, and he's careful to go easy on your stomach, keeping it decompressed. He bends you at the knees instead, and lets you lay flat against his arms. It's not bridal style, but it's easy on your belly.

He carries you to bed and you're grateful for the flat surface of the mattress to sink into. It means your stomach is content, for once in the past few hours, and you let him tuck you under your blankets.

He's back with the bathroom garbage in a moment, and he shuts the door behind him so that the sound of the toilet flushing doesn't bother you.

"There," He leans over, kissing your sweat-soaked forehead, "Sorry, honey."

All you can do is groan, eyes shut. He knows you're thankful for his help, he's not going to force you to speak or make eye contact with him.

"I'll be back," He promises, still speaking in the hushed tone of voice that doesn't completely annihilate your head, "Just gonna make soup. You don't have to have any if you don't want to. Just in case."

He straightens up to head for the door, but you catch his hand in your own clammy one before he can leave. He turns, waiting for you to speak, but all he needs to hear I love you is the way that your hand squeezes his own.

[yeahspider]

DIAL TONE 🕸️

Ve’s note - 100% self indulgent . sobriety is hard . it’s a struggle but we up yk . minho x fem reader . mdni . hurt/comfort . adult themes . mentions of alcohol and depression . if you’re struggling with addiction just know i love you and that recovery isn’t linear . not proofread . requests are open . enjoy <3

you didn’t want to be in this party any more . the music was too loud and you were too drunk . but you didn’t want to go back to your dorm either . what awaits you there ? silence ? isolation ? you couldn’t take another night of staring at your ceiling . it’s been weeks since you last talked to him . not that you could blame him , you were a mess . a mess that didn’t want to be cleaned . you said some things you didn’t mean , and now you’re left to suffer the consequence of your never ending stream of red solo cups .

nothing is as making the void he left better . but somewhere deep in your brain , the darkest part convinced you if you filled the hole with another drink that it would be alright . but that one drink turned into another and another and eventually the hole spilled over . so here you were pressed up against the wall by some random . his kisses up your neck left you filling emptier than before but it’s hard to tell when you’re knee deep in a binge .

another shot was all you needed . after two more the stranger started to look like minho . but then he would say something and like a jolt to your system your visage would shatter . this isn’t what you wanted . pushing the man off you and grabbing another bottle . you left the party and the terribly loud music . steeping out into the rain you felt the rest of your resolve crumbling . not even the rain could hide your tears as you you opened another bottle .

you didn’t want to live like this anymore . it’s been two years . minho was with you threw it all . and the only thing you did was push him away . you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting at the bench . could he thirty minutes could’ve been two hours . time seemed muddle when you were in this state . the rain had started to slow and you started to shiver . unlocking your phone you see the lock screen of minho you could never bring yourself to change . his smile that graced his face in rare occasion never failed to blow you away .

two minutes of indecision later . your dialing his number . and then two rings in you start to regret it . he owes you nothing . has saved you more times than he could count . so you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t pick up . not after how that last conversation ended in you slamming the door and storming out his apartment . after two more rings he picked up . you couldn’t stop the shock that flooded through you . why did you call him again ? you foundry remember . you barely registered his voice gently asking if you’re alright , or you’re shaky response that resembled a small no .

“send me your location.” you heard him say . and for the first time in your relationship you listened . he told you to stay out and that’s what you did . you couldn’t tell if it’s the liquor coursing through your veins that kept you rooted or sheer desperation to see him again . it took him five minutes to pull up . you know your shivered and soaked form was a sight to see . he stood in front of you for a second . taking in all your rock bottom glory . it room you a second to meet his eyes , and second more for you to whisper out a thank you . he only hummed as he led you to his car and back to his aortemng . only speaking in small bouts as he let you shower and change into a hoodie of his and a pair of leggings you had left at his house awhile ago .

after drying off and sobering up as much as you could you joined him in his bed you’ve spent so many nights in . his eyes caught sight of the bruises left on your neck from earlier and the bags that never seemed to leave from under your eyes . you looked a mess . but to him you were still as beautiful as ever . still his girl . even if you were a little lost . minho twirled a piece of your hair between his finger and that’s all it took for you to break into sobs . clinging on to his shirt his body heat seeped into you as you repeated your sorrys to him like a prayer . he just held you and shushed your apologies .

“i will never give up on you my love. you’ll always have me.” said into your hair . and you beloved him . minho would never fail to dave you no matter how many times you needed it . you wanted to do anything to keep him . even if that meant getting better and healing . because you knew that he would be with you every step of the way .

[princessconsuela120]

Chapter seventeen: Vienna Waits for You —✧

Series masterlist

Chapter Warnings: cursing, labor, pregnancy

Author's Note: Last chapter guys!! This story has been a whirlwind, I almost don't want it to end...I love this story with my whole heart. Leave comments let me know your thoughts and feelings, and send in requests, I'm going to post more about Kyle and Juno in the near future!!!

—✧

I think if there’s one thing in this world I love more than Kyle, it was Dirty Dancing. I may have just watched this movie 20 times before and never got tired of it. So being able to relax and sit with my brother in our living room, in our new house, our own house. It felt better than anything ever had. Kyle had a final game today, a huge one in the playoffs. They’d have college recruits and professionals there. But of course I couldn’t go. I had been on bed rest since leaving Kenny’s house a week ago.

“I just don’t understand why she wouldn’t just tell her dad?” Stan said, holding his hand out angrily at the tv screen. I rolled my eyes, shoving a handful of popcorn in my mouth.

“She wants to, he made her too afraid to. She loves him so much, she doesn’t wanna loose him.” I explained, shaking my head at the emotional scene that took place on the screen. Stan nodded, getting up carefully and dusting his pants off as he did.

“Makes sense. I’m gonna go grab a water you want anything?”

“Waters good, thanks brotha.” I said thankfully, doing a quick handshake with Stan before he walked away into the kitchen. I indulged in shoving my face with popcorn until a strange trickle of water started to soak the blanket, catching my attention.

“Umm…Stan!” I yelled, looking down as I pulled the popcorn off my lap, not caring about the popcorn that split all over the couch.

“Yeah Junebug?” Stan yelled back from the kitchen. I stood up, with much difficulty but I got there.

“Either I just pissed my pants or..” I paused, seeing Stan shoot his head out from the kitchen.

“Or?” He said, quickly coming over to me. We both looked down at the puddle on the floor, then back up at each other.

“Thunder cats a go!” I shouted, gesturing for Stan to go grab my hospital bag as before he came back, holding my arm to help walk me to the car.

“Cartman!” Stan yelled, earning a snarky shout back in response.

“What do you want!” He yelled annoyed. He came to the edge of the steps, his eyes widening when he saw Stan and I with my hospital bag.

“It’s go time!” He yelled, making Stan and I nod.

“It’s go time!” Stan yelled, calling Kenny as well as we all made our way out to the car.

“Fall out! Fall out!”

“Oh fuck!” I shouted, making Stan stop to grab my arm.

“You okay?” He asked, making me glare at him.

“No I’m not fucking okay! I have a baby trying to claw it’s way out of my vag!”

“Where’s Kahl?” Cartman asked, me sighing as he did.

“Basketball game, big game, don’t call him.” I explained, running my hands over my stomach to try and soothe myself.

“And risk being cursed by his Jew magic? Um, no thank you.”

“Glad you're back to your old self again Cartman.” Stan said, patting Cartman’s back as Stan and I went through a list of things we needed.

“The admittance forms?”

“Got them.”

“Parking stickers?”

“Got them.”

“Ow fuck!” I groaned loudly, causing the boys to look at each other and nod, both of them holding one of my arms to help me walk as Kenny ran down with the rest of our things.

“Yeah. Here we go.” Stan said, helping me into the car as Cartman and Kenny sat on either side of me in the back, holding onto my hands.

“All right, go.”

“Gas! Gas!” Kenny shouted, causing Stan to snap at him angrily.

“Shut up Kenny!”

“Drive damn you! Why aren’t you fucking driving!?” I shouted, throwing my head back as I kicked my feet from the pain.

“It’s a red light..” stan said, but I moved to be closer to him, pulling his collar.

“I don’t give a fucking damn if it’s a red light Stan, fucking go!”

—✧

“Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Out of the way. Out of the way. Hold on.”Kenny cheered, running around pushing me in my wheelchair as we laughed.

“Kenny, stop it. For God's sake, stop it. Don't do that.” Stan said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the wheel chair and holding it still.

“What? But it's fun.”

“Don't. You're making Tweek nervous.”

“Ugh, oh my god.. Stan where’s mom, where is she?” I asked angrily, trying to breath even though it wasn’t working.

“Mom and dad are on their way.”

“Ugh, dads coming? Ughhh.”

“I know Junebug. It’s okay just breathe.” Stan soothed, holding mu hand, kissing my palm to desperately try to calm me. It seemed to work, my breathing slowed and i smiled at her twin.

“We’re here!” That is until Randy came into the room shouting. “Emergency! My daughter is in labor, I demand to know where she is!”

“Mom, dad!” I called happily, the marsh’s running over to me quickly.

“Oh honey. How do you feel baby?”

“Not good. Not good at all.”

“Welcome to the wonders of child birth.”

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up, pass out and have explosive diarrhea all at once.” I say, making Randy sigh, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“That happens to me when I eat too much chipotle. I get the feeling.” Everyone turned to Randy, glaring at him as he looked around at the group. “Yeah I’ll just stop talking.”

“Where’s Kyle?” Sharon asked, making me sigh.

“He has a basketball game, it’s the finals.” I explained, making Sharon and Randy share a look.

“You didn’t call him?” She asked, making me sigh.

“I didn’t want him to miss this because of me.”

“Juno honey..”

“Just leave it mom.” I yelled, shaking my head as i held onto my stomach. “Please. I can’t let him miss more opportunities because of me. There’s big coaches there and college recruits.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Juno Marsh?” The doctor called, causing everyone with me to look over.

“Yes, that’s me.” I said, smiling at the doctor as my mom sighed.

“Your room is ready for you.”

“Oh thank fucking Jesus.”

—✧

It had now been a couple hours of simply waiting. The baby was taking their time, it was evident now after the 5th hour and I was only 2 centimeter dilated. Stan and I had been walking back and forth around the room, them only letting family stay with me yet sonehow Kenny had managed to stay. They said walking helps, which is a load of bullshit because I couldn’t even walk without Stan and it didn’t help.

“When do I get that frigging spinal-tap thing?” I asked, turning to my mom who was watching us pace.

“It's a spinal block, and you can't have it yet, honey. The doctor said you're not dilated enough.”

“Oh, come on. I mean, it's like...I have to wait for it to get worse? Why can't I have the thing now? It’s been five fucking hours of this.”

“Doctors are sadists who like to play God and watch lesser people scream.” Dad said, making us all look over at him until another contraction hit, worse than the last.

“Oww! Fuck fuckity fuck fuck.”

“You were right, I do hate this experience.” Kenny said, earning a glare from Stan who’s hands I was squeezing.

“Just, in through your nose out through your mouth. I got you Junebug.” He guided, but it wasn’t working.

“Ow, Stan it hurts so bad.”

—✧

I decided not in call Kyle to tell him I was having the baby. He had a big meet against North Park...And I didn't want him to get all worried about me. But he figured it out anyway.

“I came here as quick as I could!” Kyle yelled, running into the room and grabbing my hand. My eyes widened when I saw him, my heart breaking yet so happy to see him all at once.

“Kyle? Kyle honey, you’re game..” I begged, but he just held my face before pulling me into a hug.

“I knew when none of you were there that it must have meant it was go time.” He said, holding me closely before pulling away. He frowned when he saw tears in my eyes, wipping my eyes with his thumb. “Why are you crying love?”

“Im sorry, I should’ve told you I just.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I know.” He nodded, I nodded back. He kissed me quickly before helping me sit back in my bed, sitting beside me, his hand never leaving mine.

“Hey sweetie, how are you doing?” Mrs Broflovski said, having followed Kyle in, smiling sympathetically.

“Not good. Good god, I don’t know why it’s taking so long. I've already been here for three hours.”

“I know honey, you and Stan were 12 hours.”

“Kyle was 22.”

“Oh god..” I groaned, hiding my face in Kyle’s shoulder as he glared at his dad.

“Not helping dad.”

We sat back together on the bed, and I screamed loudly, hiding my face in the mattress. I grabbed the first hand I could and squeezed, which just so happened to be my father.

“Excuse me. Hey, can we give my kid the damn spinal tap already?” He shouted, sighing happily when I pulled away from the pain I was causing him, making him wince as he shook his hand.

—✧

When it came time to final deliver the baby I had practically begged the doctor to lie and tell my family only Kyle was allowed in the hospital room. Of course, Stan and Dad over heard and argued they’re way inside, somehow Kenny managed to sneak in here and my mom was welcomed by me with open arms.

“Breath and push. That's good.” The doctor said, making me scream in pain as they coached me through.

“Push. Keep pushing.”

“Come on, Juno, keep pushing.”

“Keep pushing, keep pushing.”

“I can’t, my god I can’t push anymore.” I said breathlessly, not even able to tell who was talking anymore.

“I can’t watch this.” Kenny said, turning away at the pain his friend endured.

“It’s okay honey you can do it…”

“You try pushing a watermelon out of your ass dad then you can tell me what I can do!” I shouted at him, making him raise a hand hesitantly.

“I..”

“Randy Marsh if you say anything about PF Changs right now I swear to god…” my mom shouted, making him frown and sit back down.

(if you get it you get it)

“Juno you’re the strongest woman I know, you got this.” Kyle whispered, being the closets person to me, letting me cry into his shoulder.

“It’s hurts Kyle, it hurts so bad, please. I don’t wanna push anymore, I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of? Baby I’m right here next to you.”

It was as if the world paused, and Mr and Kyle where the only ones in the room still going.

“What if I can’t, what if I can’t do it?” I cried, making him sigh, kissing my temple regardless of the sweat.

“You, Juno Marsh, my sun my moon. My sky and stars, whatever you put your mind to you can accomplish. And no matter where you go I will always be right here, holding your hand.”

And then reality came back.

“I see the head!” The nurse yelled, causing the pain to become even worse.

“What?! The head? Oh fuck..”

“Oh my god..” my dad said, before promptly fainting onto the ground.

“Dad?!”

“He did this when you two were born too.” My mom said, making Stan chuckle.

“A few more big pushes.”

Next it was Kenny’s turn to faint.

“Oh my god! You killed Kenny!” Stan said, looking over to where Kenny was being checked out by nurses after having fainted.

“No I didn’t you bastard he just passed out.”

“That’s why I’m not looking below the stomach.” Stan said, before I could laugh another scream came out.

“Ahh!”

And then, out of nowhere, there it was. There she was.

“It’s a girl.”

And then came the tears. They placed her on my chest, and once again the world stopped. And it was just her, eyes closed, and so damn beautiful.

“Hi there little one.” I whispered, afraid I would wake bother her if I spoke too loud. She was crying, but I didn’t care. “Oh my god Kyle she’s so little.” I said, holding onto her tiny fingers.

“I know.”

“Oh Juno, she's precious.” My mom said, leaning over to look at the baby. I smiled over at her, my dad getting up just in time as everyone surrounded us by the bed.

“Did she just come outta me?”

“She did. You did it.”

“Oh my god. Hi, hi you.” I cried, Kyle wipping my tears as he laid his head against mine.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

—✧

“Alright, where are they, where’s my grand baby!” Shelia cheered, running in the room frantically with excitement.

“Over here ma.” Kyle said quietly, making Shelia squeal.

“Oh my goodness. Oh how precious.”

“I knew it was gonna be a girl.” Randy teased, making Juno tease him back.

“Oh Juno honey she’s so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“She looks just like you Kyle.” Gerald complimented, making him shake his head.

“No, she has Juno’s baby blue eyes.”

“It’s those strong Marsh genes.” My dad said, patting my shoulder proudly.

“Gimme my grand baby. Hello little bubby.” Shelia said, taking the baby in her arms happily.

“Ma, be careful.”

“Aww look at you, already a protective father.” She teased, pinching his cheek making Kyle blush.

“Ma, stahp.”

“Okay my turn, my turn! I was in the waiting room getting my blood pressure done when she was born.” My dad said, taking the baby from Shelia. She immediately snuggled into his arms, babbling lightly. I’m sure she thought he was Stan.

“I can’t believe you passed out.” Kyle’s dad joked, making my dad roll his eyes.

“Shut up Gerald! You watch a baby come out of your daughter then you can judge me!” He looked down at the baby happily. “Hi, hey little one. Oh my god she’s so little, yes you are you’re such a little girl. My little buddy.”

The baby smiled at him, as if she could understand.

“Aww, Randy I think she likes you.” My mom said, dad smiling happily.

“Smart kid.” And on queue, she started crying. “No, no you like me!”

“It’s okay dad, I think she’s just hungry.” I said, holding out my hands so he would hand her back.

“We have to try breastfeeding again..mom?”

“Right, yes.”

“Alright we’ll, we’ll leave you guys too it.” Shelia said, the two walking out the room.

“Thanks guys.”

“Before we go..What’s name did you decide on?”

Kyle and I smiled at each other, before telling.

(You’ll find out soon)

—✧

Everyone came in shortly after. And when I say everyone I mean everyone. The room could barely hold us all. But yet they were here, and each and every person got a chance to hold the new baby, with happy smiles on their face. Stan may be her only blood uncle, be man would this baby have so many aunts and uncles to love her.

“Hey, come on in.” Kyle said softly, calling everyone into the room.

“Hi.”

“Oh my god.” Wendy gasped, making me chuckle.

Would ya look at that? “Oh my god Juno she’s so tiny.”

“I know right?” I said, gesturing the baby out for everyone to see.

“Look at her little fingers.” Heidi cooed, holding onto one of her hands gently.

“Oh she’s gonna be so spoiled.”

“I can’t wait to spend so much money on you, make you the biggest fashionista ever.” Bebe cooed next, making us all chuckle at her words.

“Aw, Juno can I hold her?” Wendy asked, causing me to nod.

“Of course you can. Kyle?”

“Here, cradle her head, and hold her there, perfect.” He explained, placing her gently in Wendy’s arms.

“I think I’m gonna cry. She’s so precious.” Wendy said, making me laugh. “Kyle she looks just like you. She even has your ginger curls.”

“The only ginger I’ll ever like.” Eric teased, earning a light shove from Stan.

“I can’t believe you made this.” Craig teased, holding Vienna next. Then she was passed over to Butters, who already fell in love with her chubby cheeks.

“Hey little buddy, you’re just a little lady aren’t you?” He said, cooing at her as she shifting gently in his arms.

“Look at those eyes, they’re gorgeous.” Heidi compliments, making Wendy shove Stan lightly.

“Aw Stan she has your eyes.”

“I know, isn't it great?” Stan said wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, those are my eyes too, give me some credit.” I joked, causing Wendy to look at me with a pout.

“How to you feel mamas?” She asked sympathetically, making me sigh.

“Okay. A little sore.” I shifted my position, wincing at the pain in my abdomen. “A lot sore. But I’ll manage.”

“You did so good. I'm so proud of you.”

Kyle placed a soft kiss to my cheek, leaving a smile on my face as the group smiled at me.

“We all are.”

“I can’t believe you made this.” Kenny said, looking down at the baby in his hands.

“I know, right?”

“So, what’s her name then?”

Kyle and I looked at each other, smiling.

“It was a hard decision, but we came to a decision. Vienna Lianne Marsh-Broflovski.”

“Lianne?” Eric asked, his head perking up at the name.

“You may not know it Eric, but your mom touched a lot more lives then you both knew.” Kyle explained, making Eric smile.

“Yeah, and so will she.”

“Do you wanna hold her Eric?” Butters offered, now being his turn to hold Vienna.

“Not yet, I don’t wanna bruise something so precious.”

I smiled at Eric, butters handing me back Vienna as I carefully shifted her in my arms.

“How do I look?” I asked, making Stan smile.

“Like a new mom. Scared shitless.”

—✧

Kyle was up, I don’t think he’s slept since the baby was even born. There was a chair beside our bed, he hadn’t left that spot either. He helped me sit up with the baby, practicing walking myself over to the chair to sit in his lap.

“That’s it, you got it.” He reassured, helping me sit back as I cradled the baby in my arms.

“Careful. I don’t wanna wake her.”

“It’s okay, I got you love, just sit back.”

We both seemed to sigh with joy, before looking down at the baby.

“She’s perfect, you’re perfect.” Kyle kissed my cheek, holding a hand on the blanket carefully.

“She looks so peaceful.” I said, rocking her gently.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’m home.” I said, my eyes never leaving the baby in my arms.

It ended with a chair.

[floral-force]

Omg 1st off I LOVE your writing! It’s soo amazing, I strive to write more this year and you’re the reason! But can we get some nervous Din? Basically reader is the FULL PACKAGE (wink wink) you know with their knowledge of combat, weapons, basically just badass. Meanwhile Din is LOVIN it and is just a wreck what it comes down to it! You don’t have to do this but if you do it would be appreciated <3

thank you so much for the compliment--it means so much that I've motivated you to write. please do it!!! bless the world with your words!!!

I tried my best with this!! I'm just such a sucker for soft!din that it kind of spilled out of me. I think din would just admire a skilled and badass partner and want to just soak in their presence. I hope you enjoy this!!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Misjudgments

din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Din Djarin reluctantly agrees to work with a partner on a hunt, and they turn out to be incredibly skilled in bounty hunting. They make him a nervous wreck, something that never happens to him. But, maybe there's more to Din's mixed emotions than he realizes...

words: 1.9k+

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ ONLY/NO MINORS, bounty hunter reader, soft!din djarin, mention of orgasms, din is bad at feelings, mentions of canon-typical violence

read on ao3 | masterlist

Din had been so resistant to the idea of having a partner on a hunt, but Greef refused to take no for an answer. He agreed in the end; he figured he owed the man a favor because Greef had set aside a puck for Din that had a big payout. After he got the credits, he’d been able to afford not only refueling the Crest, but a few thermal detonators, a new vibroblade, and a fresh bar of soap—all luxuries he rarely indulged unless absolutely necessary. So, Din had sighed and nodded, Greef introduced Din to his partner, and then they were off. 

He hadn’t expected his unwanted accomplice to be as—if not more—capable than him. They’d boarded the Crest with an overstuffed backpack and a long duffel bag, a wry smile on their face, and an attractive body that made Din gulp and blush. How could he not notice their looks when they carried themselves with the confidence of a skilled and seasoned hunter? Karga had told Din how many years they’d been in the Guild after he asked the question for a third time, and Din had groaned at the answer. The person was still an amateur compared to him.

It certainly didn’t appear that way when Din descended the ladder from the cockpit to the cargo hold and saw them sitting on the floor taking apart their sniper rifle. It was a model Din had seen before in a couple shady, back-alley shops on Coruscant and slung over the backs of one or two other Guild members, but the one his partner was dissembling had a few modifications Din didn’t recognize. Din watched their hands deftly take it apart, moving with a level of precision only acquired by years of practice and experience he knew didn’t match the number Karga had told him. It was hypnotizing to watch them pull and twist the pieces apart and gently place them on the black canvas pad in front of their legs. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards when he saw the way their brow was furrowed with focus and their lips set in a hard line.

“Are you going to stand there all the way to Jakku?”

Their curt voice snapped Din out of his trance, and he crossed his arms. “No, I—um,” he got flustered when they looked up at him with questioning eyes and cleared his throat. “That rifle. How did—”

“How did I get it?” they finished his question with a tired sigh and a roll of their eyes. Their thumb tapped the piece in their hand, and Din watched it with eager eyes. “I bought it, that’s how,” they snapped, looking back down at the pieces in front of them.

There was a pause, Din’s helmet trained on them as they set the piece back down. Their hands were still for only a few seconds before they reached to the right and grabbed a can of oil with a thin spray nozzle. Irritation painted their face as they picked up a sleek black piece, inspecting it before shaking the can and giving a part of the piece a quick blast of oil.

“It’s a 773—”

“773 Firepuncher,” they snapped, their voice overlapping Din’s. They picked up its scope. “I bought it after my first hunt. I’m not a fan of getting too close to my quarries. This guy—” they gave Din a quick smile— “is my best friend.”

He crossed his arms. “Those aren’t easy to come by.”

“They are when you have a network, but I doubt you talk enough to have one.”

Din tilted his head at the snide remark, almost letting it slide because of the way they bit their lip and smiled to themselves. Their shoulders jumped with a suppressed laugh that should have made Din mad, but it only made his cheeks and ears turn red under the beskar. Clearly, they knew their way around their weapon—but any good hunter should. As they set down the scope and picked up the rag on their left, wiping off their fingers, he shifted and thought of something smart to say.

“So, you don’t like getting your hands dirty?” he probed.

“Oh, I will, I just think it’s…” They looked up at the ceiling and waved their hands around, searching for a word in the air. “Unproductive.” They hummed and picked up a part of the barrel. “Yeah, that’s the word. Unproductive.”

“You can just be honest and say you’ve broken your hand throwing a punch,” he shrugged. 

They laughed mirthfully. “I learned how to fight before I started hunting, Mando. Not all of us can hide underneath beskar.” 

Din’s skin went hot under his.

They looked up at him with mischievous eyes and an endearing smirk. They looked back down at their occupied hands and shrugged, tracing a finger over the barrel’s ridges and lines. 

“I just thought it’d be idiotic to start hunting while still training. Luckily, I started young—way too young, I think,” they added, eyebrows knitting together, something hard settling across their attractive features.

Din cleared his throat and leaned back against the ladder, hoping to relate on some level with them. “I began my training as a child after I was rescued by my covert.”

“I held a blaster for the first time when I was 13,” they stated.

“I think I was 11.”

They shook their head and exhaled with wide eyes. “Damn, Mando,” they chuckled, giving him a smile. “You’ve got me beat there.”

They looked back down at their work and gave the barrel a few more moments of consideration before setting it down and fiddling with the stand. Din kept quiet, observing them in silence once again. He couldn’t decide if his heart was racing from their smart quips pushing his buttons or from shy nerves. He wasn’t inclined to find out, but he did know that he’d changed his mind about them. They weren’t the incompetent, young hunter Din had thought them to be; no, it was quite the opposite. They were hardened from experiences they shouldn’t have had to go through, tough as nails, and wittier than anyone Din had ever met. They made his gloved palms clammy and left him flustered. But he didn’t hate it. Maybe he liked it. Maybe he liked them, or maybe he just envied them. But he had time to decide—their hunt hadn’t even started yet.

“Have you ever used a 773?” they asked, something in their voice wavering. They looked up at him with expectant eyes, hoping for a certain answer. What that answer was, Din couldn’t tell; he just hoped he’d give them the right one.

“Can’t say I have.” 

Din waited on edge, hoping he’d answered them correctly. They nodded and their eyes darted to the black canvas, fingers tapping against the piece in front of them. When they looked back up at Din, they gave him a soft smile that he didn’t think they were capable of. Even more surprising was that he liked it.

“Would you, um,” they bit their lip and cleared their throat. “Would you like to learn more about it? Maybe try it out when we land?”

Din was…flattered. All the hunters he knew were incredibly protective of their weapons, only sharing when absolutely necessary and always asking for everything back once the job was done. Yet here they were, offering him a piece of themselves. It threw him for a loop, but then again, this hunter was full of surprises. 

When he silently nodded, they gave him an excited smile. Din dragged over a light cargo box—kriff, he needed more rations—and plopped down in front of them, leaning forward and urging them to start talking with a wave of his hands. They eagerly began, their sentences sprinkled with nervous stutters and awkward glances. Din enjoyed it, smiling under his helmet at how their face lit up while describing an impressive shot they’d made with the rifle. For once, Din was glad he’d made a misjudgment. Maybe a partnership with them wouldn’t be that bad. Who knows—maybe he’d want to keep them around for more than this hunt.

Months later, after finishing their sixth consecutive hunt together, he told them how that moment lit a small flame inside his chest. Din held their hand in his as he told them that he’d smiled.

“You actually smile under that thing?” they teased, earning a shake of Din’s head. 

“I only smile at you,” he clarified. 

They pulled their hand away and raised their arms over their head, stretching their body with a cute grimace. They’d been occupied with their rifle for a good while now; it was an anxious habit of theirs. So, he’d decided to keep them company. It would be a while before they got to Nevarro, and Din enjoyed talking to them anyways.

“That’s—mm—good, Din.” 

Their comment was interrupted with a tiny groan from their stretch that tickled Din’s heart. Their eyes met Din’s visor and their hands dropped to the metal floor before picking up a piece of their rifle. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, drinking them in with thirsty eyes.

Din could never get enough of them. He was forever parched now that he’d had a taste of them after their third hunt. They’d been forced to drop their rifle and engage the quarry in a fight, and Din had found them with their knee on top of the Trandoshan quarry. As they put the cuffs on the quarry, they gave Din a coy smile, shrugging their shoulder to try and rub sweat off their cheek. In that moment, Din knew he wanted them, knew that the way they made him blush and stutter wasn’t due to him feeling insecure. No, he was attracted to them, and he needed them.

Later, they both came together on the floor of the Crest, their voices harmonizing in ecstasy, chests heaving in unison. Din was sweating under the helmet, the rest of his body bare and hot under their touch.

He didn’t even have to ask if they’d stay with him a little bit longer. The look in their gorgeous eyes told him all that he needed to know.

So here he sat, watching them grease their rifle yet again. Din would never get tired of watching it. Every time he saw them make a clean shot or save his ass on a hunt with quick thinking and excellent aim, his heart hammered in his chest and made him want them even more. Din’s knees went weak for them, and words failed him. 

But he couldn’t tell them all of that just yet. He’d tell them later in bed after they brought in the quarry from their most recent hunt. Din hoped they didn’t hate the room he’d booked at Nevarro’s small inn. Din hoped he wasn’t misjudging their feelings, too. They were the only person in the galaxy who could make Din care enough to feel his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Din? You here with me?” they asked, smiling.

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here, I promise.”

“Good, you went all stiff and silent. I was nervous for a second there,” they admitted.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They beamed at him, making his heart skip a beat. Kriff, he loved the way they made him feel. How could he ever leave someone as incredible as them?

masterlist

tag list (join here)

@bbyanarchist @hardlystrictlystarwars @hrtsforpascal @threeheadedlamb @dindjarinsmut @notsosecretspy @djarinslove @jellybeanstacey0519 @tizylish @dheet @kalea-bane @totallynotastanacc @elinedjarin @charlottetownwaffles @theamuz @kaqua @tortor-mcgee @graciexmarvel @mymindfuckery @saradika

[kinkandkreep]

Ok y'all, here's the plan:

So, first off, we've successfully relocated and though I'll be quite busy these next few weeks, I am still actively working on everything I owe y'all. PLUS, is ya girl's birfday monf!!! Best month for sure, for sure. 😌💁🏾‍♀️

@midnight-the-shadow-wolf Thank you for your patience hun, I am still working on your request and will have it up as soon as possible.

There's also two other requests in my inbox and unfortunately I'm not able to tag you guys, but hopefully you remember who you are. 😭 Lord willing, I'm going to watch ATSV on the 9th and will be able to fulfill Miguel and Miles related asks more accurately after such time. In the meantime, feel free to send in your requests for them (provided you read the rules first)!

Til then though, I got some Miguel angst and the much requested Yandere!Miguel continuation planned for y'all! (I also got like this super self-indulgent drabble to post as a prequel to the angst and once it's up I'd really appreciate you guy's feedback. 😊)

To my people that followed me for Connor content, first, thank y'all ever so much for your patience, y'all are the real ones. 🥺 Secondly, I'm not even gone cap, I have lowkey accidentally misplaced my inspiration to write things for him, but I promised y'all more content for him and darnit, thats what I'm gonna provide! 😤

All that to say, please bare with me y'all, Tee Tee Ari's gettin' it together. 😂

Also I apparently surpassed 700 followers!!?!??! Thank y'all so much????

I truly appreciate every one of my followers and I thank y'all sincerely for every interaction y'all have with me. Really helps keep my spirits high. 😁

Ok, I believe das all. Ari out!✌🏾

[ratchetsboyfriend]

I hope it's all right if I request again but could I get some hcs for Trailcutter crushing on a human who hangs out with him and just likes his personality and thinks his lil forcefield face is adorable :'))) it's ok if you don't want to ik I already asked for another request!!

His first thought when he had met you had been along the lines of ‘oh no! They’re cute!’ and the more he got to know you the more he grew to like you. You were so tiny, and nice, and funny, and a whole bunch of other things and before he knew it he was head over heels for you. The entire ship knew it too because he’d blurted it out one night at Swerve’s and the minibot couldn’t keep a secret to save his life so the news had quickly spread, until everyone but you knew about it.

You like him for him and not just his forcefields, which is a total surprise to him. He’s known as the force field guy so it means a lot to him for someone to just know him as Trailcutter, their friend and maybe more if he’s lucky.

You appreciate him for more than his ability but you still think it’s cool and he so badly wants to impress you. He does little tricks, like lifting your drink over to you, giving you boosts, making shapes, all sorts of little things that make you smile at him with glee. Sometimes he gets so distracted by you that he loses his concentration and his fields will flicker before he can get them back under control.

One time at Swerve’s you had asked for him to lift you up on a platform and when you were close enough, you leaned in to kiss his cheek. He got so flustered he accidentally let the field you were standing on fade and he initiated one of his panic bubbles when he frantically moved to catch you before you could hit the ground. He had to spend the next thirty minutes with you sitting in his lap apologizing for startling him while the rest of the crew made kissy faces, or in Whirl’s case lewd gestures, though they all pretended to be focusing on their drinks and conversations whenever you turned around. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, which was saying something considering just how long he’s been alive, but he doesn’t regret it in the slightest and the thought of your lips on him is often his last thought before he slips into recharge.

He’s very self conscious about his ‘forcefield face’ so he actively tries to avoid making it in front of you, but he uses his ability so often and he’s so used to unintentionally making that expression that he immediately fails at hiding it from you. It doesn’t help that you tend to stare at him when he does and he’s worried that you think he looks gross or dumb. He’s completely caught off guard when you make an off hand comment that he looks positively adorable when he’s concentrating on his forcefields and his face instantly flushes with equal parts embarrassment and pleasure. He’s on cloud nine for the rest of the day, somehow more cheerful than normal and Whirl makes gagging noises when he walks by, not that he notices. He’s too busy daydreaming about holding your hand and being bold enough to return all the compliments you’ve given him, and maybe even working up the nerve to kiss you, a thought that puts a goofy grin on his face.

[tom-holland-parker]

I Wanna Wear Your Tie

Request: Can you please do a professor tom x student reader, she’s of age of course, and he takes a liking to her for being so smart and he can barely contain himself with every outfit she wears. And one day after class he asks her to hang back and things get very SMUTTY?

Warning: 18 + SMUT (oral, choking, vaginal sex), student/teacher relationship, cursing, age gap (legal)

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Word count: 4081

Masterlist

Tom knew from the first time you walked into class he was going to have a hard time. Not because you were a trouble maker, he heard from your other professors that you were an extremely bright and well rounded student, but because you liked to wear the shortest sundresses he’d ever seen. Tom knew he fucked up by developing a crush on his student. It was immoral and he could lose the job he worked so hard to get. 

Tom had been staring at the email all weekend, debating all his choices. He knew the right thing to do was to report it and let the school handle everything, but a big part of him told himself to do otherwise.

Dear Professor Holland,

I want to wear your tie while you fuck me

Love Y/N

Tom let out a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes, refreshing his inbox once more in hopes you had sent another email, an explanation or maybe even an apology, anything that would avoid him having to send the response that he had drafted Friday night after he received your message. Of course as the hours passed he knew that hoping was pointless, Tom sighed looking over his drafted email for what seemed like the 100th time before hitting send. 

Ms. Y/L/N

In regards to your last email I have no choice but to report it to the school. I do, however, acknowledge that you are one of my highest scoring students so it is only fair that I give you a chance to explain yourself. Please meet me in my office Monday after class

Professor Holland

Little did Tom know you were freaking out, spending Saturday nursing your hangover from partying Friday night. It was a drunken mistake, you would’ve never sent the email had you been sober but leave it to the vodka to let you do something stupid.

You had one day to come up with some apology and still couldn’t find the right words. Countless drafts saved in your notes app, but none good enough to express the regret you felt by sending that email. Of course time wasn’t on your side and the hours moved faster than usual. Finally it was Monday afternoon and you sat in your door waiting for your final class of the day, his class

“Maybe if you just tell him it was a mistake he’ll understand” Your roommate Kendra laughed as she looked at your computer, you’d been rereading the email for hours, hoping it would go away. Glancing at the clock you sighed, “I have his class in an hour, how am I going to face him”

“You could skip”

“I’m already in enough trouble as it is I can’t skip class” You sighed, closing the laptop as you moved to put on your shoes, “I’ll just give the best apology he’s ever heard of and hopefully it’ll all work out”

Kendra chuckled, “who knows maybe you’ll get exactly what you wanted”. You rolled your eyes, “I’ll text you after class”

///

Tom watched as you entered class, his eyes trailing over your outfit, you were wearing his favorite dress, white with blue flowers. He chuckled at your innocent appearance but frowned when he noticed you taking a seat in the back instead of your usual seat in the front.

You showed up to class right on time, looking at your feet to avoid any eye contact with Tom. It was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was that stupid email. It didn’t help that he was wearing a tie today, the same tie you’d imagine him gagging you with on most nights. You shook your head trying to focus on forming an apology that wasn’t absolutely pathetic

“Alright class is over, If you have any questions about the assignment you can” his gaze shifted towards you, “email me”

Your eyes widened as you distracted yourself by putting your things in your bag. As if the universe wanted to see you completely embarrass yourself in front of the teacher you’d been crushing on all semester, you piled out the class with the rest of the students, trudging down the hallway towards his office. You stood outside the door for a few minutes, pacing back and forth as you tried to compose yourself. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage as you knocked on the door 

“Come in” You heard his muffled voice from behind the door. You took a deep breath as you twisted the door knob walking into the well lit office. 

“Hi Professor, you said you needed to see me” You say trying to seem innocent. He cleared his throat pointing to the leather seat in front of his desk, “Please have a seat” 

Slowly you make your way to the seat, placing your bag on the floor as you stare at him. Tom took a deep breath, opening the email as he passed you his laptop, “When I get an email from my brightest student I expected a question about her latest essay not this”

Your face heated in embarrassment as you handed him the laptop, “Professor I’m so sorry I was very drunk Friday night and I know that isn’t an excuse but I didn’t mean to send that. If I could take it back I would just please don’t report this”

Tom watched as tears slowly began to trail down your face, “y/n I’m not going to report you”. 

You looked at him in disbelief, “Seriously”

“but you’re not getting off that easily” He closed his laptop, “You’ll be spending the week and your weekend helping me grade papers”

You let out a sigh of relief, “thank you professor I’m really sorry it ever happened”

Tom chuckled, “You’re one of the smartest girls in my class. I would hate to see you get in trouble because of one drunk mistake” You wiped your tears away, feeling yourself relax now that you knew you weren’t going to be in too much trouble. “After all you’re only young once, just try to keep your thoughts in a diary and not your emails”

You chuckled, picking up your bag as you got up to leave, “will do professor”

///

Tom instantly regretted his decision. Don’t get him wrong, having the extra help was amazing but it was hard to concentrate when all you wore were short dresses. He spent all week sitting at his desk, too afraid to get up for fear that his body would betray him and you see the hard on he was trying desperately to get rid of. Seeing you in class was hard enough but when he watched you in what seemed like your natural element it changed something in him.

He watched as you sat on the couch in his office, your hair tied back and your glasses slowly sliding down your face, every once in a while you had to push them back in place. Tom couldn’t help but smile at the faces you made while reading the essays, a look of annoyance when you read over an obvious mistake or the way your eyebrows furrowed when you wrote the feedback. He tried his hardest to keep his laughter inside whenever you got distracted and drew little faces in the margins. He hated to admit it, it made him feel terrible, but he was a professor falling for his student

“Professor I’m not sure about this” You said getting up from the couch as you walked towards his desk. Your voice knocked him out of his trance as he watched you hand the paper to him, “See the evidence goes along with the topic sentence but the explanation is still choppy” 

You watched as Tom took the paper from you, your breathing hitching when his hands grazed over yours. You shook your head reminding yourself that you were already here because your stupid feelings and if you kept letting yourself indulge in what was supposed to be your punishment you were going to end up in the deans office.

“I see what you mean,” Tom said looking over the paper, “just circle the paragraph and place it in the pile and I’ll look over it later.” He looked up, surprised to see how close you were to him, your chest inches away from his face. It was just his luck that you decided to wear a low cut dress today.

“Okay” You replied, taking the paper from him as you slowly moved back to the couch. Tom glanced at the clock noticing how late it was getting, “Well it’s getting late and you probably want to spend the you weekend somewhere way entertaining than here so you can leave, punishment over”

“Are you sure? I still owe you two more days and it doesn’t feel fair to end my punishment early” You said, grabbing another paper. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stay because it actually felt unfair or if you really just wanted an excuse to keep spending time with him. 

“Well if you insist, '' he chuckled, a part of him happy that you weren’t eager to leave, “But we can finish this tomorrow afternoon, I’ll walk you out”

You gathered your things, meeting Tom at the door where he waited for you, his hand resting on your back as he guided you out the room, locking the door behind him. “It’s dark, I’ll walk you to your car, Where are you parked?” Tom said looking at the parked cars on the street

“I don’t drive” You said awkwardly, “But my dorm is only a few blocks away from here I don’t mind walking”

Tom shook his head, “No way I’m letting you walk, it's too dangerous, I’ll drive you.” You watched as he took his keys out his pocket unlocking the black BMW parked across the street.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way” you looked down on your feet, here you were again too flustered to even look at him. Tom chuckled at your nervousness, “Don’t worry about it. I insist on it.” Your breath hitched as he placed his hand on your back again, guiding you towards the car.

It only took a few minutes for him to get to your dorm building, “well here we are” He said, parking his car before looking at you. You glanced at him nervously, “Thanks Professor”

“Call me Tom” he chuckled, “But only when were alone”

You wanted to punch yourself for feeling butterflies but you couldn’t help it. “Well Tom” You laughed, calling him by his name felt weird, “thank you”

He watched as you moved to grab the door handle but froze, “Oh I forgot to ask you about your assignment”

“What’s up?” he shrugged. “Well I know you wanted us to write about how the author uses the women in his novel to display power but I can’t write about that. The author clearly doesn’t see the woman as symbols of power he sees them as sex objects, which is shown multiple times throughout the text so I can’t write about something that isn’t true”

“So you don’t believe sex is a form of power?” Tom questioned trying not to smile at the way your brows furrowed in concentration

“Of course I believe sex is a form of power but for the author to display women having sex as a symbol for powerful femininity the woman would have to own their sexual desires and wants”

Tom chuckled, “If you really feel so strongly about that then write about it, I’d love to hear more about what you have to say about owning your sexual desires. Seems to me you know a lot about that” 

“Oh my god” You hide your face in your hands, “I didn’t even realize-”

“Don’t be embarrassed, if you can’t joke about it then you’ll let it eat you alive” Tom chuckled

“Well” you smiled, “I should probably get to writing”

“Yeah you should”

You both didn’t even noticed the way you both began to slowly lean into each other, the tension in the car growing thick

“Goodnight professor”

“It’s Tom” He said with a smile

You scrunch your nose, “Goodnight Tom”

Your faces were inches away from each other. He couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at your lips before looking back at your eyes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same, “Goodnight y/n”

You both stayed silent, letting the tension take over. Your lips grazing over each other. The kiss was slow at first but it soon progressed into passionate open mouth kisses, both of you giving into your desires.

Your hands reached to grab his face, shocked at how soft his cheeks felt. “Wait wait wait” Tom said, pulling away slowly. 

You caught your breath, wiping your lips as you moved back into your seat, “I should probably go”

Before Tom could say a word you were out the car rushing towards the dorm building. “Fuck” he said to himself as he leaned back into his seat. He knew he’d fucked up, but he couldn’t help the way he felt when he kissed you.

///

When you knocked on Tom’s office door the next day you were even more nervous than you were Monday. You were too embarrassed and instead of facing the problem head on you did what you did best, ignored it. 

You spent the afternoon on the couch, headphones on as an excuse to block out Tom. If you had a question you didn’t ask it and when you had a comment you didn’t say it. It was pure torture for you and Tom, yet you both chose to ignore the elephant in the room.

As the hours passed and the sun began to set Tom’s patience was growing thin. He couldn’t pretend like the kiss never happened, and if he was being honest with himself he wanted more.

You sighed in frustration, as hard as you tried to concentrate on the papers in front of you, you just couldn’t. Thoughts about last night flooded your brain making it hard to concentrate on even the simplest sentences. You threw the paper on the couch, ripping your headphones off, “I’m sorry but this silence is killing me, can we just get this awkward conversation over with”

“Alright well” Tom stared at you, unsure what to say. Yes he felt wrong but he also didn’t care. He got a taste of you and now he wanted more, “I apologize for what happened, it was completely unprofessional on my part”

You cleared your throat trying to find the right response, “yeah, well, I'm sorry too, we were both in the wrong and it shouldn’t have happened and I’m really hoping we can just move past this” 

“Yes I agree” Tom nodded his head, “So how are those papers coming along?”

You shrugged, sitting down in the exact leather chair you’d sat in on Monday, “There needs to be a study group or something, I mean if this is the writing skills of our future world leaders I’m honestly a little concerned”

Tom chuckled, his hands instinctively reaching for his tie, something you noticed he did subconsciously. Your heart skipped a beat as your stomach fluttered, “god get a grip girl” You thought as you blinked your lust filled thought away.

Tom smirked, noticing your reaction to the way you reacted to him, “Yes well not everyone has an easy time with writing as you do”. He touched his tie again, this time tugging on the knot a little.

Your breath hitched as your brain went foggy. A low chuckle leaving his mouth as you shook your head, “Well I’m not that great of a writer, I mean I have countless drafts that no one sees”

“Really?” Tom played with his tie, loving how much the simple habit affected you, “How many drafts did you make before you sent that email?”

Your eyes widening in surprise, “no drafts. Drunk me is the best writer”

Tom smiled, getting up from his seat as he moved to stand in front of you. You watched as he leaned against his desk. You bit your lip as you leaned back into the chair, enjoying the way that Tom seemed so much taller than you.

“You know you probably shouldn’t say that to your professor”

You smirked, “There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t say to my professor” You were playing with fire but the heat felt too good, it made you want to know what the burn felt like. “Fuck it, what’ve you got to lose” You thought to yourself as you smiled.

“Oh yeah?” Tom’s eyebrow raised in question as he leaned down towards you, his face only inches from you, “things like what?”

You smiled bringing your lips close to his ear, “Like how much I want you to fuck me”

The groan that left Tom had your thighs clenching together, “Yeah you definitely shouldn’t tell me that.” You chuckled as you leaned back in the seat, Tom’s eyes moved over your body like you were a work of art, “but then again as a teacher I probably shouldn’t want to fuck my student so badly”

Your lips parted in surprise as Tom smirked, his fingers gently trailing up your thigh. Your breath hitched in anticipation but a disappointed sigh left your mouth when his hand didn’t move past the hem of your short dress. “If this happens no one can know”

You nodded your head as his hand grabbed your chin, keeping your head in place and forcing you to look into his eyes, “Words darling”

“No one finds out” You gulped, your body frozen. You could feel yourself getting wet from the power he held over you. The feeling of his having control over you was intoxicating

“And you understand that I will never use this against you? You can leave right now and I will forget this ever happened and we can go right back to our normal professional student-teacher relationship”

“I understand professor” You nodded, wanting nothing more than for his hands to be all over you. 

“Good girl” He smiled, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, “Now go sit on my desk and spread those legs”

You smiled, quickly doing as you were told. Tom chuckled, amused by your excitement. You watched as he got on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he places kisses up your thighs, occasionally leaving a mark that would stay for days to come. “You’re so wet, all this over a couple of kisses?” He teased

Before you could answer Tom moved your underwear aside, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. You moaned, your hand instinctively reaching for his hair. “I knew you would taste good,” He said, licking his lips. He ate you like you were his last meal, licking and slurping you like a starving man. 

You’d never been more thankful that the school was empty on Saturdays, no one around to hear the moans that Tom was coaxing out of you. “Oh god” Your hips shamelessly bucking against his face as he pulled your legs onto his shoulder.

“Tom please” You whimpered as his tongue slowed down to a teasing pace. He groaned, his large hand slapping your thigh, “It’s professor.” His voice was demanding and powerful. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers stretched you, toes curling as he effortlessly found your g-spot. “Professor please I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me baby” He moaned, “I want your cum all over my face”

His fingers moved faster as you reached your breaking point, loud moans leaving your mouth as your back arched. You could feel Tom smirking against your clit as your legs began to slightly shake. 

“You sound so pretty when you cum” Tom said as he stood up, your cum making his face glisten in the last bits of light that came from the windows of the office. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer as you licked your cum off his face. 

“Someone’s eager” He joked as you kissed down his neck. “Hmm I can’t help it, you just look so sexy with my cum on your face. Plus I’ve been wanting this all semester so are you gonna give me what I want or am I gonna have to get it from someone else”

Tom’s jaw tightened as he grabbed your wrist, “Don’t be a brat or I’ll edge you all night and leave you with nothing”

You whimpered as Tom pulled you off the desk, “Now if I remember correctly,” you watched as he loosened his tie, “You wanted to wear this.” You nodded your head, watching as he took off the blue and white tie, taking a deep breath as he placed it around your neck. 

“And as much as I love you in this dress, I think I’d prefer for you to be out of it” He smirked. You chuckled, turning around so he could unzip the dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. Tom’s arms snaked around your body he pulled your back into his. His fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling the sensitive area. You bit your lip, rubbing your ass against his hard on, your pussy desperate for more attention.

“Professor” You wined, “I want you”

“So needy baby” He chuckled against your skin as he kissed up your shoulder and neck, “Don’t worry, you’ve been a good girl I won’t tease you too much”

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hand twisted the tie, making it tighter around your throat, “Is this okay?” You nodded, wincing when his hand roughly slapped your ass, “Come on sweetheart you're smart enough to know that when I ask a question I expect an answer. Now use your words”

“Yes Professor” You said moaning as his hand gently rubbed the area he’d just hit. Tom quickly unbuckled his pants, pushing them down as he aligned himself with you. He teasingly rubbed the head of his cock on your clit, loving the low whimpers that escaped your mouth as your hips jolted up. 

Tom’s grip on your hips tightened, pushing you down into the desk as he bottomed you out. You moaned loudly as he began to thrust into you, “This is what you wanted right? Your professor fucking you like a slut”

You gripped the desk, trying your best to keep your balance. Tom gripped the tie again, the fabric pulling your head back. “Faster please Professor” You begged as you moved your hips. 

His hips sped up as his hand moved in front of you tracing figure eights on your clit. You became light headed from how tight the tie was but you couldn’t care less it all felt too good. “Sir Please It’s too much I’m gonna cum”

“Go on baby cum on my cock, give it to me” Tom sped up, becoming needier as he came closer to cumming. He pulled your body into his, fucking up into you as he kissed the harsh line where the tie met your skin. The sensation was too much for you as you came, your walls squeezing Tom, milking his cock of all his cum as he came shortly after you.

Your body went limp, leaning against the desk so you didn’t fall to the floor. Tom sighed, pulling out of you, groaning when he saw his cum leaking out your abused hole. “You did so good” Tom whispered as he kissed up your spine, “Such a good girl for me”

You slowly got up, turning around to face him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tom smiled, picking you up and moving you to the couch, where you sat cuddled in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked, still placing kisses all over your body

“I’m cold” You said, your head resting against his shoulder. He chuckled, quickly grabbing his jacket from his chair before returning to your tired body. You laid in his lap with his jacket wrapped around you, Tom’s hand running up and down your spine as he kissed your forehead.

You glanced at the clock, “it’s getting late”

Tom sighed, “let’s just stay like this for a little while, then we’ll get you dressed and I’ll drive you to your dorm”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Nie Mingjue was always glad for an excuse to leave a boring political meeting, although he was surprised that Jiang Yanli had been bold enough to send a note requesting his immediate presence before they were married.

Certain jibes had been made at his expense by his fellow sect leaders, of course, but he had shrugged them off. Let them think him overly indulgent; what did he care? He enjoyed having someone to dote on when he had the chance, and anyway he didn’t think Jiang Yanli would ask him to come out so quickly over nothing – though it was interesting she asked for him to join her, rather than asking for her brother.

“Mistress Jiang?” he said, walking into the room in Jinlin Tower where she was waiting for him. Her posture was tense, her hands clutched together under her sleeves. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you know where the Wen sect survivors were sent?” she asked. “It’s a matter of – some urgency. If you don’t know, we’ll have to find out another way.”

We, he thought. Wei Wuxian, no doubt, since Jiang Cheng was still inside the hall, enduring the politics that came with any meeting between sects. And Wei Wuxian did not, generally speaking, have the best ways of figuring things out.

“The Jin sect has not shared that information publicly,” he said slowly, and saw her shoulders slump in disappointment. “But that does not mean I don’t know it. What is the issue?”

Jiang Yanli explained in a few sentences: a woman looking for a brother, a young man who had helped rescue Wei Wuxian during the war, a doctor’s assistant, who’d even gone so far as to poison his own people to save members of the Jiang sect and then spent the majority of the war in a prison, and yet now they thought he had been trapped in a prison camp, being abused…a young man surnamed Wen.

A young man called Wen Ning, or Wen Qionglin. It was not a name Nie Mingjue remembered.

But the one searching for Wen Ning was his sister, Wen Qing - and that was a name he did remember.

Wen Ruohan’s favorite nurse.

Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenched at the thought. He’d spent more than half his life avenging his family, and had always assumed the Wen sect would do the same if they were allowed to live; he had never stinted on hating all of them without exception, without quarter. Wen Ruohan was a murderer and a tyrant, and his family supported him with nary a word in protest until the tables had turned and it was their own lives at stake – was it not evil to support evil? Could Wen Ruohan have done as much as he did without Wen Qing’s medicines and treatments, without Wen Qionglin’s silent compliance? Did it really matter that they had been threatened, as so many other people had been threatened?

No. Duress could explain many things, but it never excused standing aside in the face of murder. Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing were, at best, accessories to a hundred crimes, and deserved exactly none of his sympathy.

And yet.

It was not them that was making a request of him.

Patient, calm, gentle. Forgiving. These were all traits he wanted in his bloodline, traits he lacked and knew he lacked. Traits that Jiang Yanli possessed: matching strength to weakness, weakness to strength.

Nie Mingjue did not love Jiang Yanli, not yet, but if he was not willing to even trust her, it was better not to marry at all.

“Very well,” he said, deciding. “Are they waiting outside? We will go at once. Huaisang will make my excuses.”

“…Huaisang will?”

“He’ll stutter and obfuscate and make a tolerable mess of it,” Nie Mingjue said, not without a mixture of exasperation and fondness – he knew his brother too well. “And as a result they won’t know where or why we’ve gone for at least another half a shichen, if not more.”

(Knowing Nie Huaisang, he might ‘accidentally’ end up implying that Nie Mingjue had gone to enjoy some afternoon delight with his soon-to-be bride, but Nie Mingjue was too polite to mention something like that to Jiang Yanli.)

Jiang Yanli nodded, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing briefly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I know what it all means to you.”

“I can only give you the benefit of the doubt,” he said, trying to be honest but probably coming off as harsh. “For the rest of it, I will decide when we are there.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have his sword, as always these days, and Wen Qing, shivering behind him, had lost hers, but Nie Mingjue brought along four Nie sect cultivators and ordered two to act as escorts, with the other two trailing behind in the event of trouble. He rather liked Wei Wuxian, especially after that stunt he’d pulled in protest of the Jin sect’s little shooting ‘entertainment’, but demonic cultivation was dangerous and Wei Wuxian’s mentality was said to be unstable. Nie Mingjue had lost so many of his own already - he was taking no chances.

“How did you know where they’re located, Chifeng-zun?” Wei Wuxian asked from where he was balancing behind a long-suffering Nie Zonghui. “I wouldn’t have thought the Jin sect shared that information.”

“Are you not familiar with the concept of spies?” Nie Mingjue asked, voice dry. Jiang Yanli, in his arms, giggled – she’d planned to send them along without her, looking disappointed and worried and resigned, and she’d brightened like a flower exposed to the sun when he’d informed her that she was coming along with them. She was accustomed to being left behind, and he intended to change that.

Besides, they were only going to the Qiongqi Path, which was solidly in Jin territory, to a prisoner of war camp staffed by Jin cultivators. It was hardly a dangerous expedition, and he did not expect to encounter anything that might be a threat, excluding perhaps his own temper.

His temper did, in fact, make an appearance.

“Jin Guangshan swore to Lan Xichen that the Wen remnants would be resettled peacefully,” he snarled, eyes red with rage and Baxia in his hand as the Jin sect cultivators - which had been tormenting the civilians here and that had gotten into Wei Wuxian’s face when he’d charged over first to shout at them - cowered in front of him. They were willing to challenge Wei Wuxian, but it seemed that Nie Mingjue was a different story – bullying the weak and cowering before the strong. Pathetic! “I had not realized that our understanding of the word peaceful was so different. Clearly I will need to have words with Sect Leader Jin.”

A hand touched his arm, and he looked down, surprised; virtually no one approached him when he was in a rage.

Jiang Yanli stood beside him, looking up at him fearlessly. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to chop them into pieces, it’ll be more effective to present them as evidence,” she said, and even smiled, as if they were sharing a joke between the two of them. “We can save the chopping for later. Following the trial that I’m certain Sect Leader Jin will insist upon.”

The Jin cultivators paled, clearly realizing that the likelihood of Sect Leader Jin standing behind them rather than immediately making them scapegoats was very low. They would be much more likely to spill whatever secrets they might have now, knowing that their fates depended more on Nie Mingjue’s mercy than on Jin Guangshan’s, than they would have even in the face of his threats.

Baxia grumbled in reluctant approval, and all of a sudden Nie Mingjue could not wait for Jiang Yanli to have a saber of her own and to cultivate its spirit – he thought it would be a very fine spirit indeed.

“Very well,” he allowed, and put Baxia back on his back, noting but ignoring the respectful looks his cultivators were sending Jiang Yanli. It was nothing more than what ought to be, the proper role of a Nie furen: to incite when appropriate, to restrain when necessary. “Zonghui, return to Lanling and bring a larger force so that we can transport the Wen civilians to safety. And – there’s no need for subtlety.”

By which he meant that he wanted every cultivator who could fly their own sword to be tagging along out of curiosity, and Nie Zonghui knew it. He saluted and left at once.

“What do we do now, then?” Wei Wuxian asked, shifting from one foot to the other. He looked anxious and young, clearly startled by the abrupt lack of violence and worried about Wen Ning – the young man had some nasty injuries that hadn’t been treated by the Jin sect, his body tossed away like so much refuse, but they’d arrived early enough that his sister was avidly working to care for him. She had said that his chances were good, since they had arrived before his consciousness had slipped away.

If they’d arrived later…

If Nie Mingjue hadn’t had the information ready to hand from the spies he disliked using, if Wei Wuxian had had to get the information out of the Jin sect directly, if he had had to ride here from Lanling rather than fly a sword, if he’d gotten stuck in that thunderstorm that was rapidly heading their way…

Well, that hadn’t happened. There was no point in wondering what if.

“Now? Nothing. We wait. Nie Xizhe, Wu Shude, take some of the Wen civilians and have them help you tie up all the Jin sect cultivators; I don’t want anyone sneaking away, and there’s not enough of us to guard them while they’re free. Wei Wuxian, walk with me.” He glanced to his side. “With us, I mean.”

Wei Wuxian obediently trotted over to where Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli were waiting, and Nie Mingjue led the three of them over to a nearby ridge where they could have a little privacy. The storm was getting ever closer, he noticed.

“Very well,” he said finally. “It’s just us now. What debt do you owe the Wens?”

Wei Wuxian froze. “Debt? I don’t – I already said –”

“There’s something you’ve left out,” Nie Mingjue said. “The way you act with them…”

He didn’t know how to put it into words. It wasn’t merely chivalrous altruism, nor even friendship, that was driving Wei Wuxian – he was desperate to help, manic with the need to do something; there was something else there. Some secret. He knew, because Nie Mingjue knew secrets and what they did to a man, even if he was keeping it for the best reasons in the world.

“A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asked when Wei Wuxian said nothing, when Nie Mingjue said no more. “You know you can tell me, right?”

His lips were pressed together, his hand tight on his flute until his knuckles were white. He shook his head. “Shijie,” he whispered. “Don’t ask, please. Don’t.”

At least he’d admitted there was something.

“Your conduct is causing trouble for Yunmeng Jiang,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian turned tormented eyes on him, even as Jiang Yanli’s hand tightened on his. “It’s a Great Sect, but your brother is young, untried, and sensitive to criticism. It will be difficult for him to deal with the issues you present, especially if you persist in your present path of continuing with demonic cultivation instead of returning to the orthodox path of sword cultivation.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, looking pained.

“Do you have a suggestion?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “Absent yourself before you are forced to leave in truth. Go to the Cloud Recesses the way Lan Wangji continues to pester you about – see if you can’t tell him what secret it is that’s weighing down your tongue, if you can’t tell any of us – and come visit the Unclean Realm when you’re done there.”

Wei Wuxian was staring. Nie Mingjue ignored him.

“When you’re done with that, assign yourself the job of checking up on the Jiang sect’s dependent sects, or even just go around to visit every sect listed as having fought in the war, building relationships with them,” he continued briskly. “As for the reason, you’re clever, you’ll think of something. Get Wangji to teach you some healing spells and come help those in my sect who need it. Say that you’re using your demonic cultivation to help ferret out resentful energy in need of cleansing. Something. It doesn’t really matter what. But whatever you do, go. Give Yunmeng Jiang time to become as strong as it needs to be to protect you.”

“But it shouldn’t be protecting me,” Wei Wuxian protested. “I should be the one protecting it!”

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, and her expression was suddenly fierce. “Are you the eldest? No. I am. You are my A-Xian, my didi, and that means you are part of Yunmeng Jiang – we have as much right to protect you as you us, and don’t you forget it.”

“But – shijie –”

“I won’t hear another word,” she said. “I won’t! Whatever it is, A-Xian, you need to tell us eventually, or else we’ll all fall apart. Didn’t you both promise me that we’d stay together, the three of us, always? You can’t break that promise now.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wet with tears. “All right, shijie. I’ll figure something out.”

“Start with Gusu,” Nie Mingjue said again, uncomfortable with the display of emotions. “If you tell Lan Wangji the truth, he may even be able to help – in one way or another. Or don’t, it’s up to you. Just get yourself out of the public view. Earn some merits that aren’t related to slaughter.”

Wei Wuxian nodded again, clearly overcome with feeling, and then promptly made up a flimsy excuse to leave, dashing away towards where Wen Qing was still working on her brother.

Jiang Yanli sighed. “Thank you,” she said. “Again. I just wish I knew what was wrong with him!”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised her. “Even if I have to pick him up and shake the secret out of him.”

Jiang Yanli smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” she said, now a third time over.

“Thank you,” he corrected. “If you hadn’t brought this to my attention, I would be guilty of negligence in regard to the Wen sect remnants – and most of them civilians, no less. As for Wei Wuxian…he’s your didi, and so soon to be my brother-in-law. It’s nothing but what I should be doing.”

“Still,” she said. “I am grateful nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue looked down at her, fierce and yet patient, kind and righteous in her own quietly determined way, fearless enough to stand by his side and trusting him enough to come to him for help.

His heart moved in his chest.

He decided to be daring, as it had always served him well in the past – he stepped forward, closer to Jiang Yanli, and leaned down to press his lips to the corner of her mouth.

“It is what I should be doing,” he murmured, voice low. “Nie furen.”

Jiang Yanli’s face turned bright red, but she was smiling.

Yes, Nie Mingjue thought – he might not be able to promise love, but accepting Jiang Yanli’s show of initiative was definitely one of the better decisions he’d made.

[clairecrive]

Hello beautiful person! Do you take requests which ask you to write a second chapter for your writings? If you do, may I ask a second chapter for "Rare"? And if you don't could you please let me know so I can be careful for another time when I ask a request?

I hope this is not something that disturbes or irritates you. I love your writing, it is beautiful and sometimes I read your pieces over and over again. 😁

Thanks for blessing us with your writing. Have a nice day.💕

A/n: First of all anon, thank you so very much for your sweet words! They mean the world to me <3 Also, your request could never irritate me! I love them and I love the fact that you consider me half a decent writer enough to send me your thoughts <3 I'm sorry it took me so long to get around this but I hope you like this and are still around to read it x

I've decided to pair it with a request for juicy time with Eddie. there's no actual smut but it's suggestive let's say.

Warnings: bit of angst, fluff,

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby, @br0ck-eddie, @fandom--0verdose, @shadow-of-wonder, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner, @for-bebbanburg, @crazyclownchick ( fill in this form to be added to my taglist)

Part 1

TOM HARDY MASTERLIST

You weren't exactly new to heartbreak. You had been a teenager after all but your experience with adult relationships had not been that good either.

You knew that you'd be over Eddie even if it may take you some time. It's true that you had only been dating for a few months but you had really grown attached to him. It was one of the things you hated about yourself: the way you got attached way too soon, way too much.

Especially, in this case, seeing as Eddie hadn't been 100% in it in the beginning you had hoped that the more time you'd spend together, he'd see that you weren't so bad and that he'd grow to care for you. At least a little bit.

Turns out you were wrong.

As much as you hated being wrong, the thing that hurt you the most was that despite your best efforts, Eddie still didn't think you were enough for him. And how could you be when the benchmark was perfect Anne?

You stood no chance. You had been a fool for even trying. And now you were experiencing the burn for your foolishness.

This had happened often enough that you had developed a routine for dealing with heartbreak:

1) crying your heart out and indulging your sadness with whatever helped (mostly comfort food and Friends)

2) enough with indulging, it was time to pick yourself up. No more overeating although you still allowed yourself to cry if you felt like it

3) "I don't need him anyway" phase where you'd make a mental list of how your life was before and after whoever you had broken up with to remind you that they weren't as important as you made them out to be

4)"put yourself out there again" phase where you started going out again with the intention of meeting new people or simply having a good time.

As of this time, you were in phase 3. You noticed that there were some of Eddie's things littering around your apartment. So, you picked up a box and collected them with the intention of returning them to him, effectively closing this chapter. As you did, you made that aforementioned list. This time, with the added reason for your break up, it was a bit easier to remind you why breaking up had been the right decision.

When your hands closed on your favourite hoodie of his though, you couldn't help the pang in your heart as a flood of memories hit you.

You and Eddie doing a Friends marathon every Friday night.

Eddie giving this hoodie when you were sick because he knew how much you liked it.

Eddie taking the hoodie off for a whole other reason almost ripping it...

No.

Shaking your head, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Enough of that. It was over.

It was only a week later that you finally got the time to come around Eddie's apartment. Sure, you could have called him, he could have come himself to pick them up or you could have dropped them at his job but that would have required you to call him. And recalling how that went last time you tried to reach him you decided you'd spare yourself the humiliation of him not ghosting you again.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and knocked on his door.

"Y/n." You were met with a dishevelled Eddie.

He looked like shit but what's new with him. He also looked very surprised to see you at his door and you also couldn't blame it for that. You would have reacted the same way if the roles were reversed.

"Hi, Eddie," you hated your treacherous voice that wobbled when you spoke. Clearing your voice, you tried again.

"Sorry to come here unannounced. I've found some of your stuff in my apartment and I thought you'd like to have them back." You explained as you handed him the box, his eyes taking it in for the first time.

"Oh," he paused as he considered your words. Was that disappointment in his voice? "Thank you, y/n. You shouldn't have." He smiled weakly as he took the box from you, your fingers touching briefly.

"It's not a problem, Eddie. I was just passing by anyway." You and Eddie actually lived far from each other. The truth is that there was no reason for you to be in this part of town if it wasn't for him. Eddie knew that but he was kind enough not to point that out.

He just nodded, accepting your words as he held the box close to his chest.

You awkwardly stared at each other for a while, you didn't know what to say but neither of you wanted to end this exchange quite yet. When you felt that you had been standing like a fool in front of your ex's door, you went to leave but Eddie beat you to it.

"So how have you been?" Your first reaction was to scoff at this attempt of small talk. Neither of you was very good at it. And truthfully, it was rich coming from someone who had not made any effort to keep in contact with you even before your breakup.

The scroll of your shoulders was the only answer Eddie got. You weren't in the mood to pretend nor did you want him to know how you were still suffering for him.

"I should ask that to you." You reverted the question to him. He really didn't look well.

"yeah, it's been a rough couple of weeks," he confessed scratching the back of his head.

"That, I don't find it hard to believe," you hummed as your eyes took him in, really took him in since you knocked at his door. You could also see behind him that his apartment was a mess.

"Yeah, don't have to worry about me though. I'm fine."

"Of course." You nodded at his dismissal, remembering harshly the situation you were in."Well, I'm going to go now. Take care." Cold but still polite you turn around, ready to put this -Eddie and this exchange- behind you.

"Y/n, wait!" he called when you were about to climb down the staircase. "Do you want to have a drink or something?" Stay for a while? he meant but didn't dare to say.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Eddie." You called over your shoulder, hand still on the railing.

"Please, I owe you an explanation." You didn't know if it was the desperate note in his voice or the fact that he really looked like shit but you turned around almost convinced.

"Don't you think it's too late for that, Eddie?"

"Maybe it won't change anything between us but you deserve to know." You knew Eddie and you knew how much he cared about transparency and honesty. This may not mean that you were going to get back together but he was right, you deserved an explanation.

"Okay," you agreed as you walked back and then into his apartment. Eddie closed the door behind him and set the box he was still holding down behind the coat hanger.

The sneak peek you had before was definitely right: Eddie's apartment was even messier than usual.

"Why does it look like a tornado hit your home?" You couldnìt help but point out. You knew Eddie wasn't that bothered by tidiness but this too much even by his standards.

"That would be my fault," a new voice answered you.

At first, you didn't register the difference in tone or accent even though you should have had because Eddieìs voice wasnìt that low or raspy. But then a black tendril entered your vision field catching your attention making you turning your head to better inspect it.

What.the.fuck??

"Eddie?" You asked perplexed, eyes fixed on this thing? even if you were addressing Eddie.

"Y/n meet Venom, Venom meet y/n." He gestured awkwardly with his hands.

"It's so nice to meet you, Eddie's always thinking about you, you know? It's a bit annoying." this time the voice didn't come from a tendril but a face. A fucking alien face with long sharp teeth and wide white eyes.

His words went straight over your head. How the fuck was this true? What were you even seeing? Did this thing come from Eddie's body??

"Fuck, I know I'm heartbroken but now I'm even seeing things?"

"Y/n," Eddie tried to get your attention. You thought you had only thought that but apparently, you had spoken the words. "You're not seeing things, this is part of the explanation I owe you."

"I think it's better if you sit," he said motioning to his couch when you did nothing but stare at Venom. Prompting by Eddie though, you sat down and listened as he spoke.

He told you everything. About Carton Drake about his project with aliens, about Venom and their rather troubled relationship. He even explained how Anne had got involved and how she and Danny had helped him.

It was definitely a lot to take in. But somehow, the thought that he could be lying to you never crossed your mind. The proof was right in front of you, wasn't it? Venom, as he had introduced himself, stood next to Eddie while he spoke. It had never spoken again and you were inwardly thankful for that. That he was giving you space to digest all of this.

"Why didn't you tell me when you came around that day, Eddie?" You asked once you thought you had wrapped your head around it.

"I didn't want you to drag you into this mess," he said with a shrug, head cast down he didn't meet your eyes.

You didn't know how you felt about all of this yet but you nodded anyway. Well, there was nothing you could do anymore, could you? He had already taken care of everything on his own and it wasn't like you had any right to worry about him anymore.

"Thank you for explaining, Eddie. I appreciate your honesty." Did this change anything for you?

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't enough of if Anne meant more to me than you did. That's not true but I didn't know how to tell you that without telling you what was happening." He nervously fiddled with his fingers without meeting your eyes.

You could see his point now that you knew what happened. Still, it hurt you that he decided to just keep you out of it without a word. He could have at least told you that something was going on, that he didn't or couldn't tell you anything - not right now. You would have understood and given him space. Did he really act like this to keep you safe or was it a way to dismiss you?

"I don't know if this changes things, Eddie. You still turned up to her when a major life-threatening event happened. I think this tells me everything that I need to know." You point out after a while, eyes fixed on the end of your shoes.

"She has been involved from the moment we broke up, Y/n. Hell, this was the reason we broke up in the first place." Eddie's head snapped up at your words. He looked surprised at your words like he couldn't believe that you thought Anne's involvement had been something he had actively sought out.

"That may as well be true, Eddie but still, you didn't tell me even after everything settled down. If I hadn't come around to give you your stuff I still would be none the wiser."

"I was afraid, y/n. How could I come back to you after how much I had hurt you? 'Sorry if I went m.i.a. for a while, I was infected with a parasite who knows permanently with me?' Come on, y/n, I wouldn't take me back either." Now upset, Eddie started to gesticulate frantically to prove his point. His eyes flickered between yours, he leaned toward you, his hands a touch away from yours as if he wanted to touch you but was preventing himself from doing so.

"I'm not saying I would have believed you straight away but still- aliens are way better than self-loathing you know?" You scoff at him- why was he so upset? He wasn't the one who had been beating himself up since that fight for being a worthless piece of shit, was he?

"I know I've never done a good job at showing you but I do care about you. Deeply." Almost as if he couldn't bear to not be touching you any longer, Eddie now reached for your hands. His hold on them tightening as he spoke the words.

You looked at him for a moment. Aside from that fight, your relationship with him had been good. The start wasn't promising, seeing as he was still taken by Anne but Eddie had treated you good. He was attentive and caring in his own way. Looking back to it now, you realized that the period where you started feeling him pulling back from you was the time when this whole alien thing had started.

But now you had settled this, right? So, could this mean...

"If I give you one more chance to show you," you spoke tentatively, enthralled by the twinkle in his eyes, "do you promise me to be fully transparent with me this time around?"

"What? Why would you do that?" He looked shocked but his eyes were hopeful.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it, Eddie?" You challenged him, arching an eyebrow.

"Like hell I am." He scoffed, a smile on his lips. "Nono, of course I do. I swear, y/n. You'll never feel like you don't matter to me again."

"Good." You gave him a small smile at the gobsmacked expression on his face. Oh, Eddie...

He does nothing but stares at you for a while. Like he hadn't seen you in a while and now that you were in front of him, he wanted to commit to his memory every little detail of your face.

"So," you said after a while, "do you plan to stare at me or would you like to get a head start on your promise?" you provoke him with a suggestive tone.

Eddie's mouth fell a little at that, Venom said something to him but you didn't understand him. Shaking his head, Eddie smirks at you.

"I would like nothing more." And with that, Eddie's lips are on yours making up for the lost time.

[cazimagines]

Try not to forget me

Synopsis: Anon request: Can we have a reader who slept with Zemo when they were younger, they were basically each other’s first times. Reader was brought to the mission and when Sam mentions Zemo she only limits herself to saying that she knows him assuming she knows him from civil war. At some point, Zemo mentions it to Sam and since he can’t contain himself he has to ask reader to be sure. Maybe some smut, like ‘I don’t remember you being this good’

Word count: 8.5k

Author’s note: Welp it took me a while but it's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am such a sucker for the trope of seeing someone you once dated years after not seeing them again. Like give me all of that. Also I changed a little bit of the request but not much.

Warnings: Gun shots, SMUT (for mature audiences), Fingering, Vaginal sex, Stripping

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Fingers fumbled with the clasp, the feeling of lips trailing up your thigh, sweet whispers in the air,

‘My princess, my everything’

His kisses on your neck, the desperation in his voice

‘I need you, all of you’

His fingers dug into your hips, his body moving like waves on top of you.

You call out his name to the night, losing yourself in the passion that consumed you.

Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging roughly which elicited a moan from his lips.

His eyes sparkled as he reached his first climax with you, ‘You’ll always be mine’

You woke up still with the taste of his lips upon your mouth. You felt the ghost of him linger on top of you, clinging to that long-ago memory.

But all things fade with time and the cold reality pulled you from the once pleasant dream drenched in sorrow. Sighing you pulled yourself off the made-up bed on the floor, already grabbing a hair tie to pull the bird’s nest of your hair out of your face. You hop over to where your prosthetic leg laid and strapped it onto your thigh.

Grabbing your phone you notice a few miss call from an old friend, calls you must have slept through. Pressing the number you hold it up to your ear as you wander around the apartment preparing for your day.

On the third ring, he picked up.

“Sam?” you ask

“Y/n! I wasn’t sure if I would hear back from you, it’s been a while”

“Yeah, things have been keeping me busy. It’s not like how it was when we were in the army”

You could hear him chuckle down the line, “It’s strange, I would have thought my time in the army would have been the craziest part of my life, but it’s hard to beat all the stories I have of aliens”

“At least you have stories to tell, what do I have? I served for a few years as a new American citizen, almost died a few times till one day I got shot in the leg”

“I don’t know losing your leg is one hell of a story, but speaking of almost losing your life. You remember that time I was able to pull you away from a landmine and you told me, ‘oh Sam thank you so much, I owe you so much’” Sam says down the line in a squeaky voice

“Since when have I ever spoken like that Sam? And why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like where this is going”

“Well that’s because it is time for me to cash in that favour”

That’s how you found yourself arriving at an airport, searching around to find Sam. As you walked around the corner you could make out what seemed to be three figures in the distance. As you got nearer one of them noticed you, and started waving exaggeratingly making you chuckle.

You finally reach him as Sam pulls you into a firm hug. “It’s good to see you again y/n,” he says as you pull away.

“Yes, after all these years of avoiding me” you quip making him laugh

“You know I’d never avoid you! It’s you who has always found an excuse to get out of meeting up with old friends”

“Well I’m here now”

“Speaking of old friends, let me introduce to you this man, 106 years old, dermatologists hate him”

The man Sam referred to now stepped forward, holding out his hand, “Hi, I’m Bucky” he says, smiling slightly as you shake his hand.

“Y/n, you look good for your age”

“He moisturises” Sam buts in making Bucky send him a look, “It’s complicated” he mutters and you nod.

“I met Steve once, I understand,” you tell him, making his eyes light up at the mention of his old friend.

“Super soldier serum, the ability to be almost immortal, another reason as to why we have all gathered here to prevent it”

A shiver ran through your spine as you heard that long ago accent which you had removed from your voice. You focus on the man behind Sam, someone you should have noticed when you first appeared.

It had been over twenty years since you had last seen him yet you could still recognise the way his lips twitched up at the sides but dipped in the middle, the softness of his warm brown eyes, and the slight angular twist his eyebrows had. His hair was more well kept than when you had last seen him. Then he was still going through his rebellious phase, letting his hair grow unkempt but now he had a sense of refinement about him. He knew he was ageing like fine wine and now instead of trying to rebel from the prestigious life he had like when you knew him, he lavished in it, enjoying the money that was of so easy access to him and spent it on all the finer luxuries of life.

“Y/n, this is Zemo. You might remember seeing him on the news, he’s the one who framed Bucky”

You knew him more than that, more than any of them could ever know him. The dream from this morning swarmed your thoughts again, taunting you as if your brain knew what was to come.

Sokovia had been your home country, a place you had longed to forget, leave dead. Zemo, Helmut, was your childhood friend. You couldn’t remember the time when you first met as it felt like he had always been in your life. Everything you two did, you did together. Attending the same schools, going around to each other’s houses, exploring the wildness together. You two were closer than siblings. Your family had nowhere as near the same money as Zemo’s family had, yet that didn’t seem to matter, at least not when you were children. It was no surprise to people when eventually you two started dating. There had been bets on how long it would take for Zemo to gather the courage to ask you out. You and Zemo had been each other’s firsts, first partner, first kiss, first making love, which is where your dream had come from. It was cringy to say it but you felt like you loved him with every inch of your soul, and you knew Zemo was just as dedicated to you.

That’s why the break-up was so messy.

You were the one who called it. You had to. Zemo might have been blind to what it meant to be a Baron at that time but you weren’t. His parents allowed him to have his little indulges, allowed you two to be friends, to date. But at the end of the day, he would always be from the higher class and your family from the lower class. They would of never let you two marry so you had to call off the relationship before you got too deep, to save yourself some pain. You’d hoped that you two could still be friends, though it would have hurt, you still wanted to be around him but that was never meant to be.

At first, he didn’t believe you, he laughed it off as a good joke till he realised you were being serious. Then was the confusion, he wouldn’t let you leave. He needed to know what he did wrong, what could have happened for you to want to break up with him. Then was the obsession. He wouldn’t leave you alone, turning up to your house every day to beg for another chance, following you around trying to pick the relationship back up, threatening any guy that went near you. Then the heartbreak when he finally accepted it was over. He didn’t leave his house for months, you heard rumours he drank himself to sleep most nights, till one time at the dead of the night you found him pounding on your door, shouting to let him in. He was pissed and crying, imploring at you to give him a second chance, begging for you to tell him what he could do to get back with you. He would do anything, give you all his money, abandon his family and run away with you. You helped him back home and told him to leave you alone. And to give it to him he did because then came the anger. You would see him outside and he would pretend he didn’t even know who you were. You’d walk past and accidentally hit shoulders and he shouted at you to watch where you were going. Soon he would be seen with lots of different women, taking them to all the places he took you, dancing at parties. Whenever you looked over to them they were making out and it pained you deeply for what you had to give up. Eventually, you ran away. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself seeing Zemo move on with someone else while you were still suffering on the inside, not just for losing the boy you love but the person who had been your best friend for as long as you could remember.

You left Sokovia to live in America, completely ridding yourself of your whole past identity. There you decided to enlist in the Army which is where you had met Sam, served with him for a few years till you were forced to retire early due to losing your leg. You checked up on Zemo every once in a while, it wasn’t too hard with the Sokovian news constantly obsessing over him. He married the woman he moved onto, the one you always saw making out with him. You suppose he truly must have loved her because it was your birthday when his son was born. While he celebrated the happiest day of his life you spent the day at the bottom of a bottle drinking away the loneliness. You still remember the moment you found out what had happened to Sokovia. You hadn’t been back there in years but it was still your home, where you had all of your fond memories, now all gone.

You didn’t see anything in the news about Zemo after that, he and his family completely vanished so you had to assume the worst. Till you finally saw him on the news. It was hardly like the boy you once knew. The Zemo you knew was kind, empathetic, caring, beautiful in every way he could be yet the man you saw there was a murderer, cold-hearted, reckless. What had happened to the boy you once knew?

You could make guesses, his family was nowhere in sight and you could only imagine how losing the woman you love and your child could hurt you. You hated imagining all the pain Zemo has gone through.

“Yes, I remember seeing him on the news,” you tell Sam. Both you and Zemo stared at each other, your eyes unwavering.

He knew who you were. He knew from the moment you turned around that corner. As he watched you warmly greet Sam and shake hands with Bucky. He watched the person he never thought he would see again stand right in front of him, not even noticing him.

But now you stood there, staring him down. Both of you almost speaking through your eyes. Would the other one bring up the past? Try to acknowledge all that has happened between you or is that dead, left forgotten. Will you two pretend to have never met before, letting years of memories fade.

Zemo was first to speak.

“I see my reputation isn’t too favourable”

“That’s what you get for blowing up the UN,” you say scowling at him as you cross your arms

Zemo opens his mouth to say something but Sam gets here first, “Y/n served in the Army with me so you better be careful with what you say Zemo”

Zemo’s eyes then flicker back to you tilting his head, like he always used to do, in interest.

“Why is he even here?” you ask, finally pulling your eyes away from him to Sam and Bucky

Sam turns to Bucky with a plastered on a fake smile, “Why don’t you explain Bucky”

Bucky sighs as he glances over to you, “As Sam mentioned to you on the call we are trying to track down this group of super-soldiers called the Flag Smashers. We need Zemo here to help us track down where they got the serum and help us so no one else becomes a super-soldier”

“And you trust him?” you scoff, glaring back to Zemo who just smirked at you

“We have no other choice” Bucky mutters, scowling over at Zemo

“I can assure you, I won’t do anything to betray your trust. For once all of our goals are aligned that it would do us no good to go against each other.”

“I’ll hold judgment till later,” you reply bitterly.

Swifty Zemo swings on the heels of his feet, turning around to start walking away, obviously expecting all of you to follow him. Sighing in annoyance you trail after him.

As you had predicted both you and Zemo were pretending to not know each other, perhaps for the sake of the mission or perhaps for the sake of your well beings. You’re not sure if you could cope even acknowledging the past you two had. He’d been the person you had been closest to, someone you shared all your secrets, all your thoughts and feelings with. Someone who you would have taken a bullet for in the blink of an eye and to suddenly lose all of that, it wrecked you. You had finally managed to build yourself up again, to try and move on and then he comes straight back into your life. It’s as if there is some strange omnipotent god up there and it loved to torment every waking moment of your life.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asks and you all catch up with Zemo and see him walking towards what you assumed was his private aeroplane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam, my family was royalty till your friends blew up my country”

There was a slight change of tone for when he said ‘my’ not enough for Sam and Bucky to pay attention to it but enough for you to feel the slight twist in your heart as you thought back to the country that used to be yours, long ago.

As you got closer you observed a man standing by the plane, ready to welcome Zemo aboard and you felt your heart stop for a moment. Oeznik. The man had aged since you last saw him, he had fallen to the tolling of time but he still had those warm, caring eyes.

Memories swept over you of your childhood as you observed him. He has always been Zemo’s assistant, hired by Zemo’s parents when they were much younger. You could remember times when you and Zemo would be running down the corridors, not where you were supposed to be and Oeznik would find you two, not telling you off but smiling at you two, saying how Zemo’s parents were looking for him. He would sneak you two Turkish delights even if it was only an hour before dinner. Anywhere you two wanted to go he would drive you there. Whenever you slept over he would prepare your favourite meals, making sure everything was just how you liked in the room you would stay in. He was almost like another father figure to you and Zemo.

And now there he was, greeting Zemo. Zemo kissed him on the cheeks fondly before heading inside. Sam and Bucky both follow up but you take a moment to turn to look at him.

“Oeznik” you whisper

He smiles warmly down at you, placing his hand on the side of your arm. “It’s good to see you again madam”

You nod your head, unable to say anymore without letting your emotions get the better of you so you choose to head inside.

You could feel his eyes on you as you enter. You glance up to him and you know he knows why you took a little longer to get onto the plane. It was that knowing look in his eye, the slight twinkle of amusement but also sadness.

You frown realising you’d have to take a seat opposite Zemo, Sam and Bucky already choosing to sit on the other side, showing their dislike for him. You freeze for just a moment making Zemo gesture to the seat in front of him, smirking as he tilts his head. You huff, not bothering to hide your displeasure, taking the seat in front of him but refusing to even look at him.

A few minutes later Zemo chuckles as Oeznik brings out two drinks, a glass of champagne which he offers to Zemo, and a glass of rum which he offers to you. You’re favourite drink. After all this time he still remembered.

You kindly thanked Oeznik, taking the glass as you avoid the confused eyes of Sam who was wondering why you got a drink and he didn’t and the eyes of Zemo, which held an emotion you couldn’t quite recognise.

“The food is out but I will see if there is some good food in a gallery,” he tells Zemo and starts to turn away but then Zemo speaks.

“If it doesn’t pass the food test, give it to them,” he says, speaking in sokovian and gesturing to Sam and Bucky.

You weren’t prepared for the surge of pain in your heart as you heard Zemo use the language of your people. Though it had been over twenty years since you last heard it, you could still remember it perfectly.

Oeznik laughs, “It’s good to have you back sir,” he says, then nods to you before leaving again. Zemo smiles at Sam and Bucky, enjoying the notion of how they didn’t know what he said, before his eyes swiftly turn back to you, knowing you know exactly what he said.

He takes a swing of his drink before speaking again, “It’s kind of him to remember your go-to drink” he says in Sokovian.

And there it was. The first acknowledgement of the past between you two. Your eyes burn into his head as you realise just what he was doing. It was a test. He spoke in Sokovian for just you to understand, seeing if you were to take the bait and talk back in Sokovian. He wanted to see if you were willing to acknowledge the past between you two as well.

But Sam and Bucky had no idea where you were from. As far as they knew from your accent you were American and you planned to keep that secret. You weren’t going to play in Zemo’s little game, you refused to take your turn. Instead, ignoring what he had said to stare at the ground.

He waits for a few moments before accepting you weren’t going to reply. Sighing he turns to Sam and Bucky.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell” he starts “Oh, that’s right, you do” he then carries on, taunting them. If he can’t mess with you then he’ll mess with them.

“Why don’t you tell us about where you are going” Sam replies, ignoring Zemo’s attempt at taunting.

Zemo then instead turns to the book in his hand, thumbing through it. “Sorry, I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” he asks turning to Bucky

Instantly Bucky was out of his seat, his hand around Zemo’s throat pulling him back as he leans in towards his face.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you” he whispers

Zemo nods as Bucky lets him go, letting out a slight breath he had been holding in. Bucky glares as Zemo has he takes his seat again.

“I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“But you’re not sorry” you abruptly say, making all eyes turn to you. “Ever since we’ve sat down you’ve been taunting us, trying to stir up trouble. Soon your annoyance will outweigh any use you have for us”

“I’m sorry if I have caused you any offence, Princess, it is never my intention to upset any of you”

But it was. It fucking was. Because he knew just how much pain that nickname brought to your heart. Princess. That’s what he had always referred to you as when you dated. In his eyes, you were a princess, his princess. You clench your jaw, trying to stop the tears that swelled in your eyes. Something Zemo picked up on and himself felt pained seeing your reaction.

“Don’t call her Princess. Her name is y/n” Sam says, glaring at Zemo.

“My apologies, it was my fault to refer to your girl like that”

Instantly both yours and Sam’s eyes widen at his words.

“We’re not, that’s not-” Sam starts to say, fumbling with his words

“We’re just friends” you but in, glaring at Zemo for you knew why he said that.

“Y-yeah” Sam replies, looking between you and Zemo as you stare at each other. Zemo tilts his head slightly, the edge of his lips twitching up.

“I see”

“Now perhaps you could stop taunting us, Zemo, and answer Sam’s original question about where the hell we are going”

If you had blinked you would have missed it but just for a split second, as his last name fell from your lips, you could see him flinch. These days everyone referred to him by his last name, never his first name. And although in the past you had always called him by his first name, you, like them, were using his last name. That hurt more than he thought it would.

“I’m afraid I can’t say just yet, but all will be relieved in due time’

You just groan, rolling your eyes and then choosing to stare out the window trying to forget all about the man that sat in front of you.

Hoping to alleviate the conversation Sam nods to the book Bucky took back from Zemo.

“I’ve seen that book, it’s Steve’s book for when he came out of the ice. I told him about trouble man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What did you think?”

“I like 40’s music so…” Bucky grumpily replies

“You didn’t like it!?” Sam exclaims leaning forward

“I liked it”

“It’s a masterpiece James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African American experience” Zemo buts in, speaking with his hands as he looks over to Bucky

Sams’s eyes face moves from looking at Bucky, to looking at Zemo then back to Bucky.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody likes Marvin Gaye”

Inside your head, you scoff at Zemo as he talked as if he was sophisticated with music, ‘like you didn’t listen to Nirvana all the time’ you thought. From that point you ignored what they were saying, sipping your drink as you stare out the window. Today had taken a complete turn from what you ever could have imagined it would have turned out to be. And little did you know it was about to get a whole lot messier.

-

“No fucking way. You can’t make me do that”

“You have to if you want to blend in for the mission” Zemo explains

“She can blend in, in many other ways, she doesn’t have to pretend to be your partner,” Sam says arguing for you

“They will be suspicious of her though and it could risk the whole mission but if she was my partner they wouldn’t be suspicious”

“He’s right y/n” Bucky adds, “I don’t want to be doing this either but if we want to find out where the super-soldier serum has come from we need to”

Zemo nods to Bucky in thanks and then looks to you, the corner of his lip twitching up in amusement that Bucky was backing him up and seeing your anger.

He was deliberately trying to antagonise you. Making you pretend to be his partner for the mission, was his way to get back at you for the pain you caused him when you broke things off. You didn’t think you could cope with having to pretend to be his partner for it, it would just bring up all the pain of what had been lost between you two, what you had to let go of. But they were right. You had to do it for the sake of the mission. If Bucky could pretend to the winter soldier again for the mission the least you could do was this.

“Are you seriously taking his side Bucky, if she doesn’t want to be that then-” Sam starts to argue but you cut him off.

“It’s okay Sam, Bucky’s right I need to do it”

Sam opens his mouth in surprise and then moves over to stand in front of you, placing his hand on your shoulder. “No you don’t y/n, don’t listen to them”

You place your hand over Sam’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing it slightly. “I’ll be okay with it Sam. It’s not like I’d be dating him”

Your eyes flicker to Zemo who had been glaring at Sam now turned his eyes to you, his lips almost twitching into a frown but he stops them.

“I won’t wear that dress though,” you say, your eyes looking down to the short dress Zemo held in his arms.

He opens his mouth to argue against that as well but you stop him, “No Zemo, I won’t be wearing that, that is final”

He bites back his words, smacking his lips together as he nods, “If that is what you wish”

You weren’t ashamed of your prosthetic leg. It was a reminder to you for all you had given to people. But you weren’t about to walk around Madripoor with it being showed off to everyone. And a part of you wasn’t ready for Zemo to see you with it, though you don’t know why.

You hadn’t been to Madripoor before but it didn’t surprise you that Zemo knew the place well. It looked like the shady place you would find him in. As soon as you stepped out of the car Zemo’s arm wrapped around your waist. It fitted like nothing had changed in the time between. Your face instantly turned to him to tell him to let go but he held his finger up to your lips to stop you, “For appearance y/n, you are after all, for this evening, my partner”

Begrudgingly you accept it and don’t try to move his arm away as you walk together. Sam walks up beside you and as you turn to look at him he rolls his eyes. You chuckle at Sam then felt Zemo’s grip on your waist tighten.

As you walk into the bar Zemo takes a seat on the stool. You glance around but all the other seats had been taken. Smirking Zemo pats his lap, “Hop on princess”

You grasp onto his shoulder, pinching it harshly to cause him some pain as you position yourself on his lap, but he just chuckles at your reaction, his hand instantly going to rest on your tigh which was thankfully covered by your trousers.

“Don’t call me princess” you whisper angrily to him

He leans forward, his lips by your ear as you feel his breath, “We have to make it realistic princess, plus I think that would be the sought of a nickname I would give you if we were dating”

He presses a lip to your cheek as he pulls back from you, chuckling as he sees how your cheeks heat up and the glare you grace him with.

“Hello gentlemen and lady,” the barman says finally coming over to you, “I wasn’t expecting the smiling tiger”

“His plans changed, we have a business to do, with Selby,” Zemo says, trying to take over all conversation so no one gave themselves away.

“And she does as well?” he asks, nodding to you

“Anywhere I go she goes with me” Zemo replies, chuckling as he looks at you with a smile on his lips

“Isn’t that right princess?”

You try your best to push back the anger you felt, instead, forcing a smile as you look back at Zemo, “Of course my love” you tell him then leans forward to place a quick peck on his lips.

As your lips lightly brush against his you could hear the slight hitch in his breath and as you lean your head on his chest you wonder if he could feel how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

It’s just for appearances, that’s all you tell yourself but even though it was brief you could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that comforting feeling that you hadn’t felt in so long and it was as if all the buried emotions you had come flooding back. Here you were sitting on his lap, kissing him as if nothing had changed and for a moment you wondered if that could be the case. Could you two go back to what time was like before?

But you couldn’t. Not only was it down to the fact that Zemo was a wanted criminal, but he had moved on from you. He fell in love with another, he married her. Any feelings he had for you were long gone and this was just him messing with you, and you didn’t want to let him know the feelings you still had for him after all this time.

The barman seems to accept your display though, choosing to focus on Sam instead as he makes him his ‘usual’ drink.

Zemo orders you and him a drink which you thankfully take from his hand, hoping to drown your feelings away with the alcohol.

A man comes up behind you and instantly Zemo lifted you off your lap, pushing you behind him as he stands up to face the man.

“Got word from on high, you’re not welcomed here,” he tells Zemo,

“Hm” Zemo replies, nodding as he takes the man’s words, “I have no business with the power broker, but if he insists he can either come talk to me...” he finishes, nodding over to Bucky

“Or bring Selby for a chat”

The man leaves as Bucky looks over to Zemo. As Zemo turns around once again his arm wraps around your waist.

“A power broker, really?”

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar”

“Do you know him?” you ask and Zemo looks down at you amused by your question, “Only by reputation”

“In Madripoor he is judge, jury and executioner”

Zemo’s eyes focus now on another man coming towards him. Turning back around to the bar he speaks to Bucky in Russian just as the man places his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You all turn around to watch as Bucky grabs the man and starts to attack him. You’d seen violence before but it still made you wince knowing how Bucky didn’t want to do this.

After one particular nasty hit without thinking your hand grasps onto his hand, needing something to hold on to. As soon as you realised what you had done you swiftly try to pull your hand back but Zemo holds onto it tight, refusing to let it go. You could feel his gaze turn to you but you choose to ignore his cocky face and instead focus on Bucky.

You stand out of the way as Bucky slams the man onto the table and Zemo leans forward to let Bucky know not to take it too far. That was your ticket though as then you were being shown the way to see Selby.

The meeting itself wasn’t too bad. Zemo held onto your hand as he pulled you over to sit with him. He talked to Selby while you just sat on his lap. Selby didn’t pay any attention to you, which you were thankful for. Things were going smoothly until Sam’s phone ringed.

That’s how you found yourself running along with Bucky, Sam and Zemo avoiding gunfire. As you ran you heard one gunfire and felt your prosthetic leg move slightly as the bullet went straight through it.

Zemo must have seen what happened as well, but not knowing you had a prosthetic leg, he wrapped his arms suddenly around your legs, picking you up bridal style. He ran off to the side, leaving Bucky and Sam behind as he hid you down an alleyway.

“Zemo let go of me!” you hissed, hitting him in the chest as he stopped running. He instead places you on the ground, growling at you not to move as he starts to check all his pockets in his coats. Instead, you do move, getting up off the floor and he looks at you angrily. “I said don’t move! You’ll injure yourself more”

You lean down and jank up slightly the trouser leg, showing the fake metallic leg underneath.

“I’m fine Zemo! It’s fake. Now we need to go and find Sam and Bucky”

But Zemo was frozen, staring down at your leg in shock. Because at that moment was the realisation for him. All this time he had been teasing you, testing the waters of how far he could push you to admit to the past. Messing around with you as if you were two lovesick teenagers again. But you had both changed, and he was refusing to realise that until now. Because he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact you were no longer the woman he once knew. The one person he knew better than himself and he had still half-believed that was the case until now. You had a fake leg, lost in what he assumed was the army which you and Sam had been in. He didn’t know because the truth was you were almost a stranger to him now, and he hated that. He just wanted things to be the way they once were. That’s what he desperately craved but it couldn’t be.

“Okay,” he simply says and nods, finally pulling his gaze away from your leg and up to you. Following your lead, he chases after you to find out where Sam and Bucky had gone.

-

Sam paced around the main room of Sharon’s house. His mind was occupied with so many thoughts it was hard to concentrate but there was one that stuck out like a splinter in a thumb. What the hell was going on between you and Zemo? He wasn’t stupid he could pick up on something, the looks two you gave each other, the tension in the air, the way you reacted when you first saw him. Sam considered himself your best friend, though you two hadn’t seen each other in ages. So it bugged him how this was obviously something big to you, and he didn’t know what it was.

Zemo sat at the table by the side, quietly drinking some whiskey. Both you and Bucky had decided to retire for the night while Sam decided to stay up just so he could find out the truth.

“You look like you are trying to burn a hole through my head by the way you are staring at me Sam” Zemo says, finally looking up from his glass to Sam who was glaring at him.

“Is something the matter?” he asks

“You and y/n. What’s up with that”

Zemo chuckles, looking back down into his glass, “Ah that”

“I’m her best friend, I know everything about her, apart from this apparently”

Zemo’s eyes snapped back to Sam but this time there was no amusement in them, instead a angry glaze as he frowned, “Best friend?” he repeats, standing up and walking over to Sam. “You hardly know her at all”

Sam scoffs as he raises an eyebrow at Zemo attempting to get into his face. “And you do?”

“Yes” Zemo instantly replies, “I know she was born in Novia Grand, Sokovia. Just like me. I know which schools she attended, the same as mine, I know what her favourite meals are, we had them whenever she came round to my house. I know her favourite band, I took her to their first concert. I know everything little thing about her Sam, and you know nothing”

Sam’s eyes widen at Zemo’s confession, realisation dawning on him. “You were childhood friends”

“More than friends Sam, we were lovers. We were the first people we dated, we were each other first kiss, we were each other first time” Zemo claims as if bragging to Sam

“Yet you didn’t know she was in the Army, you didn’t know she had a prosthetic leg did you?” Sam asks and when he sees the slight fall in Zemo’s face he smiles, “You used to know her Zemo, but obviously, you don’t know the person I know now”

-

With a pair of tweezers lent to you from Sharon, you pull your trouser leg up and search around in your prosthetic leg attempting to find the bullet lodged inside and pull it out. You could see the bullet but you couldn’t quite get the right angle to pull it out making you groan in annoyance.

You were about to throw the tweezers across the room in anger when you heard a knock against the door. You were currently sitting in one of Sharon’s guest rooms as lot were staying at Sharon’s place for the night to rest up then go and find the scientist tomorrow morning.

“Y/n?” you hear his voice call out from the other side

You sigh rolling your eyes, “What do you want” you snap

“May I come in? We need to talk”

“I don’t want to talk”

You hear the click of the door and Zemo pushes it open to stare at you in a slight annoyance. His eyes then move down to the tweezers in your hand and your leg. He takes a few steps towards you, his hand out as he closes the door.

“Let me”

You hesitate for a moment but finally, give in and hand him the tweezers. He pulls out a seat beside you and gently puts the tweezers through the hole in your leg.

“How did it happen?” he asks as he concentrates on your leg while at the same time trying to create polite conversation.

“Like most injuries out there. One of the soldiers was on the floor, shot a round of bullets into my leg. The doctor there couldn’t save my leg so I had to get it amputated”

He nods, finally grasping the bullet with the tweezers and started to pull it out. “Serving in the army, it’s admirable. Something very like you. I was in the Sokovian armed forces. EKO scorpion”

You nod as you watch him pull the bullet out and place it to the side. “I remember reading about it in the news”

His eyes, flickering to you, glimmer with amusement. “So you kept track of me?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he caught you out. You glance away from his intense stare instead to the table. “Did you really expect that I didn’t? You once were my best friend Zemo. It’s hard to let that go. I saw you got married, had a child. I’m sorry about what happened to them”

It was Zemo’s turn to look away now, feeling the pain in his heart ignite as he thinks back to his previous family. “My son, he was born on your birthday”

“I’m surprised you remember my birthday”

He smiles slightly, finally turning his eyes back to yours, “Of course I do. Every year I’d drink a toast to you. You said that I was your best friend and hard to let go of that. Well, it’s the same both ways y/n. I couldn’t just forget about your existence.”

“I had to leave” you whisper

“I know. I know why you left, and I know why you broke up with me in the first place”

Your eyes flash to his in surprise and widen seeing how they were swarmed with tears. “Because of my family, they never would of let us marry because of your status. Y/n I would have left all of that behind for you, without a second thought”

Shaking your head you reply, “I couldn’t have asked that of you Zemo”

“And that’s one of the reasons why you are so perfect. You always put me before you, now this time I am asking you to finally let yourself choose. If you want me to leave say and I will leave. But if you don’t say I will stay with you, and I won’t let you leave again”

“We’re not who we once were, Helmut” you mutter, finally letting yourself use his first name and with that, he already knew your choice. His hand goes up to cradle the side of your face gently, moving it nearer to him.

“Then let’s discover each other, all over again”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his lips on you, fitting perfectly against yours as if they were made for you. He poised there, hoping he wasn’t being too forward but his lips smirked as you started to move your lips on him, crashing them on top of his for action, which he kindly gave.

His tongue poked your bottom lip, begging for entrance. One which you allow as you wrap your fingers behind his neck, getting tangled in his hair.

You could hardly believe this is where you were, once again with Zemo, his lips upon yours, desire between your legs. In the last twenty years, you had often dreamt of reuniting with Zemo, experiencing this moment again but you never thought it would happen. But here you were.

His hands travelled down your back, swooping under your butt as you wrapped your leg around his waist. Swiftly he lifts you off the chair and walks you over to the bed, placing you down on it and crawling on top of you.

His lips trail down your cheek, across your jawline and down onto your neck, sucking on that delicate pulse spot. A moan escapes from your lips and he pulls back chuckling. “For so long now I’ve longed to hear you moan for me Princess”

You just groan, your hand pushing his face back into your neck making him laugh but he quickly goes back to making a hickey on it. His fingers trail down to your shirt, slowly lifting it and once again he pulls away to be able to lift the shirt off you.

He holds back for a moment to admire your beauty. His hands move behind your back and swiftly undoes the clasps on your bra, tugging it off. He groans seeing you for all your glory and buries his head in your boobs. ‘Oh how I have missed these’

While his mouth latches onto your breasts, smothering them in kisses as his hands go to undo the buttons on your trousers. He starts to tug them down, with no sense of being gentle but rather a primal urge taking over him. He manages to tug them off you and then his lips move down even further. He trails his tongue from your breasts down your belly, leaving a trail of saliva. As he reaches your underwear, his teeth latch onto it. With a slight groan from his lips, he then pulls them off, sliding them down your legs and flicking them off to the floor along with your other discarded clothes.

He sighs in contentment as he buries his face into the side of your thigh as his fingers trail your prosthetic leg. Leaning forward he places a kiss on it, then trails upwards, littering it in soft kisses. The only softness you’ll be experiencing tonight.

As you feel him get nearer your core you let out a shudder in anticipation, as you shudder you feel his lips suddenly press against your core. He instantly latches into your clit, his tongue dancing on it, twisting it in circular motions. Your hands instantly grasp his hair, holding him close to your core, not letting him go. Not that he ever want to. Sandwiched between your legs is where he belonged.

“If I remember correctly, you always liked this part”

You let out a shocked gasp as suddenly a finger presses against your entrance and then slips inside of you, with ease from how wet you have become. He slides the finger all the way into the end, letting a moan rip out of your throat.

“It seems I do remember correctly”

“Instead of commentating everything why don’t you put that mouth to good use” you groan, pushing his face back into your crotch. His tongue instantly went back to your clit as he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, making sure it brushes against your walls. As you start to let more little moans he thrusts another finger inside, opening slightly to stretch you out.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening as he worked his tongue on your clit and his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. Then his fingers hit just at that right spot and your walls fluttered around him. You hardly got enough time to choke out a warning before you were gushing all over his fingers. When your climax started to edge away he pulled his face back from your clit, removing his fingers and while holding your eye contact he stuck his tongue out, lapping up your juices on his fingers.

He moans slightly as he licks it up, his eyes fluttering half close, ‘Mine Gott, I forgot just how good you tasted’

“Well let’s see if you are as good with that dick as you were in the past” you tease, pulling his face towards your to encompass in another kiss. As your hands hold his face to yours his fingers feel up the side of your waist, ghosting over your skin creating goosebumps.

You could sense when his fingers started to trail to his trousers though and you pull away from his lips making him whine.

“Strip for me”

He tilts his head smirking as he looks up into your playful eyes. “As you wish my princess,” he says as he climbs off you, standing at the end of the bed. Slowly he tugs off his large coat off, laying it on the side of the bed. Next, he works on his turtleneck, slowly tugging it up to his chest, then over his head. Soon it joins the steady growing pile of discarded clothes. Next, he quickly tugged down his trousers and boxers, his patience starting to wear thin.

As he pulled them down exposing his dick you hummed in approval. “Now isn’t that a sight for sore eyes”

“And you were complaining at me for talking” Zemo murmurs, stepping forward to crawl back onto you but your hold your hand up to stop him. “Put the coat back on”

“I see in our time apart you’ve become more demanding,” he says as he picks up the coat and slides it back onto his naked body. As he finally gets to crawl back on top of you, you grasp the fur collar and pull him closer to your face.

You run your fingers through his hair, making it even messier than it was before. Parts of it fell onto his forehead. His hands move down to hold his dick by your entrance, rubbing it against your folds. For a moment he hesitates, moving his head to rest against your forehead in anticipation.

“You’re still as beautiful as when I last saw you”

With that, he pushes into you, rather quickly because of how desperate he was to feel you around him. As he bottoms out he groans, pushing his face into the crook of the neck as you grasp the back of his head gasping. He stays still for a minute, treasuring the feeling of your walls clasping onto him. Then slowly he pulls mostly out of you, till just his head hung in your, and then thrust back into you.

He started to pick up speed, hearing the increase of your moans against his ear. His grunts and moans start to intertwine with yours as you both chase your pleasure.

“Gott, you are so perfect my princess. You feel so good around me” he’d groan into your ear as his hips thrust repeatedly into your, the sounds echoing on the walls of the room. His fingers sneak down your belly to your core, rubbing against your clit. Instantly your back was arched and your fingers grasped onto the coat.

“God Helmut, I don’t remember you being this good” you moan and with your words he speeds up, pumping inside of you. His head kept brushing up inside that perfect spot inside and with his fingers twisting on your clit you could feel your climax steadily approaching.

“H-Helmut, I’m going to, soon I’m-” you tried to get out between moans but there was no need to as Zemo could feel how close you were for the way your walls clung around him tightly.

“Come for me Princess, let me feel you. I need to feel you again my love, after so long”

And his words were music to your ears as you feel the knot within you snap and your wetness gushing over his dick. Zemo bites down on your neck, trying to be gentle, as he feels your walls grasp you even tiger as he thrusts into you. Not long after he felt his own release coming and as you lay there panting he thrusts in time to his release until he squeezed out every last drop.

He hovers over you for a moment, panting, wanting to remain in your warmth for just a moment longer but eventually he pulls out and collapse beside you.

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, burying his face in your hair.

“Thank you Helmut” you whisper

“No my princess, thank you for forgiving me for everything I’ve ever done to you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t deserve your love but I desperately need it. I won’t lose you again my darling”

TAGS: @shrekboobies @arianalilyblack @multiyfandomgirl40 @lieutenantn @neoarchipelago @cable-kenobi @edencherries @faustlyaccused @julyvegan @prestigious-tea @hannahbal-the-fannibal @barneswidow @checkurwindow @babayaga67 @spookycereal-s @mylifeispainandiloveit

If you would like to be added to the tag list please fill out this form here

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Kiss you godless

My Masterlist  

Pairing: Modern!AU Hvitserk/Reader

Summary: Hvitserk agreed to a no-strings-attached arrangement without thinking twice about it. Now, almost eight months into it, he finds himself lingering for too long on the curve of your smile and the sweetness of your voice. It probably means nothing, right?

Word Count: 8.5k (this really got away from me, I hope it isn’t too much)

Warnings: 18+. Smut. Fluff and Angst. Sub!Hvitserk. D/s dynamics. Oral, female and male recieving. Tiny mentions of (past) wax play, and also of (past) subdrop. Marking, biting, tiny (the tiniest) bit of blood play. Edging. Aftercare. Latina!Reader (we going full self indulgent here, mijas) but it is easily overlooked, just a few terms of endearment. A surprising amount of plot in my pwp. And, most importantly maybe: this is most likely very OOC, I don’t have a good grasp on Hvitserk, so I apologize in advance lol

A/N: You all know who to blame for this. This is a horny version of hostage exchange between me and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ where we give each other sub!Hvitserk pieces, that’s it.

Read hers here!

This was so fucking fun to write, so I owe ya one Ana, thank you for ‘requesting’ this. Hope you like it!

Sorry I forgot to tag you @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​, here ya go, have this behemoth of a one shot Hvitserk smut 😉😘

Title from the quote: “She pins you to hotel doors - not a goddess anymore, but she still looks like religion in high heels. She kisses you godless. Whispers, we dress like princesses to go out and kill kings.” Ashe Vernon

The familiar sound of his phone startles Hvitserk out of a dreamless sleep, and before he can ask himself why and how he has Pavlov-ed himself into alertness by hearing your ringtone alone, he’s unlocking his phone to check the simple message.

Hey.

Hey yourself.

Did I wake you?

Squinting at the blinding light of the screen, he types his answer.

No, couldn’t sleep.

Your own reply doesn’t take long.

Liar.

He can hear the teasing tone in your voice, can picture your daring smile, as if you were whispering the word by his ear, and he chuckles to himself.

Fine, you caught me. What are you going to do with me?

Your answer takes too long, entirely too long. Or maybe he is clinging to whatever it is you will say so much so that he doesn’t realize not much time passes until you send your reply.

Depends. How fast can you get here?

Hvitserk sits up on the bed, disbelieving.

You’re here?

Yep.

After that message there’s the name of a hotel near the airport, simple directions on how to get to your room, and the promise reception knows you are awaiting a guest.

He’s scrambling out of bed by the time another message arrives.

With the sudden idea that you could be as cruel as to lie about having return to Kattegat, he grabs his phone again, only to find a picture of your crossed legs from above, your hand reaching down between them, though the view is obscured by the lace panties you insisted on keeping on. Goddamn tease.

If I get myself off before you get here, you won’t get to.

He doesn’t know if that means you won’t let him get you off or you won’t let him get off at all himself, but he doesn’t intend to find out.

He rushes out, passing by Ivar and his girl cuddling on the couch, and offering only a gesture at his brother’s grumbles about Hvitserk looking like an addict, chasing after his next fix in the dead of night.

He isn’t be too far off, really.

____

Your arrangement started the better part of eight months ago, after a night of too many Østersø Colas -even then he should have known he was gone for, making that too-sweet monstrosity over and over because you’d pout whenever he tried having you drink anything that wasn’t that- and even more shared secrets; you stumbled into the realization that you were…compatible.

A lot of -sober- talking later, and you decided to give it a shot, with the reassurance from Hvitserk that no friendship is possibly ruined by sex and least of all sex as fun as the one you two were planning on having.

“Colors works just fine for me. Anything else?” He asks, eyebrows raised. You shake your head, and there’s the beginning of a teasing smile on your lips that he cannot help but be drawn to.

Hvitserk leans closer, but you lean back. He meets your eyes with a frown you reach up to smoothen.

“What are you doing?” You drawl out, head tilted to the side and smile annoyingly smug. He loves it.

Taking a deep breath, he concedes,

“I really want to kiss you right now,” You stay silent, a quirk of one eyebrow that makes heat run through him. Hvitserk sighs, “Are you going to make me beg already?”

You drop the ruse with a breathy laugh and a shake of your head, but it is your hand at the back of his neck that makes him cross the distance and finally claim your mouth, so he isn’t so sure he wasn’t asking for permission then.

Surrendering to the pull and moving to lay between your legs, he loses himself in the feel and taste of you, in the thrill that runs down his spine when you muffle a kittenish moan against his lips, a wordless praise that fills him with warmth.

But before he is ready for you to, you pull back, leaving him to chase after your lips like some eager boy. Your smile is soft when you reach to trace his bottom lip with the tip of one finger, and he does not much mind showing how eager he is if such softness is the reward.

“Are you sure, Hvitserk?” Your eyes search his, more clarity in them than he would like to see, but he guesses that’s a good thing, that you keep a clear head.

He doesn’t hesitate to nod, leaning down to steal another quick kiss, “I’m sure. I trust you, yeah?”

It took a lot getting to where you two are now, he knows that. That makes falling for you somehow worse, when he thinks about it. But at the same time, it makes it almost inevitable, that he would get to know you like this and fall in love with you.

You leaving to spend a couple of weeks with your family wasn’t what made him realize he wants you much more than he gives away, or that he wishes for more than just play between the two of you, he has known for a long time now.

Your absence just made it all the worse, making him realize how much he has grown used -dependent- on hearing your voice during his day, on seeing you just because, on knowing you’re there within reach.

During these infernal two weeks he has had to stop himself from calling you with no other excuse than missing the sound of your voice, or asking you to video call him just so he can see that adorable little smile you grant him when he tries greeting you in Spanish.

Missing you has proven torturous, and his damn heart -stupid, hopeless heart- races at the mere thought of seeing you again, so much so that he’s fidgeting on the entirely-too-long elevator ride up to your floor.

When the door to the hotel room opens, Hvitserk’s mouth goes dry.

You are there, standing on the other side, finally within reach, dressed like half-goddess half-hell on that lacey lingerie set the picture did no justice to.

Smiling widely, you tease, “Made it just in time. I knew you could be good.”

He wastes no time, crossing the distance between you with a desperation that surprises him as much as you, claiming your mouth before he can think twice about it, moaning at the taste of you, at the feel of you solid under his hands.

You walk backwards into the hotel room, and he follows, of course he does, he would follow you anywhere as long as you keep looking at him like that, as long as you keep kissing him like that.

You pin him against the closed door at his back, your soft body pressed against his and your eyes -dark, hungry, yours- focused on him with a want he is still taken aback by.

It robs Hvitserk of breath, to have you look at him like that, like there’s nothing you want more than him; to have you demand from him what you want, even wordlessly.

You slip one of your legs between his as you lean even closer, your breaths trailing over the skin of his neck, and Hvitserk isn’t entirely sure when he became so enthralled that even as you torture him by being so close but not close enough and everywhere but nowhere at the same time, he remains still, pliant against you.

You seal your smile in a kiss against the underside of his jaw, making him shiver at even that simple of a gesture. You were gone for so long, he had missed you so much, everything about you, from the heady scent of your perfume to the thrilling feeling of your hands on him; and to have you so close now is overwhelming him.

As if you could read his thoughts, you press even closer, teeth closing over his earlobe before you drawl out,

“I missed you, mi amor,” His eyes fall closed at your words, he can’t tell if at the term of endearment that makes him so willing to surrender with nothing but two words, or at the admission that you felt his absence as much as he felt yours. Your leg purposely presses against his crotch, and if he was half hard at the mere thought of seeing you, now with you clouding his every sense he feels so desperate it almost hurts. You breathe a laugh when you feel his erection pressing against you, “And you missed me too, didn’t you?”

“You know I did.” He bites out, jumping a bit when your hands on his sides tighten just enough that he feels the faint press of your nails against him over the damn shirt he should have taken off long ago.

He cannot help it, he grinds against the touch with a shaky breath, chasing the delightful pressure that is somehow too much and not enough, one of his hands grasping helplessly at your shoulder while the other grabs at your ass, urging you closer.

Immediately, your hands on his hips tightening, you force him to stop, keeping him immobile against the door.

“Ah, I did not say you could touch, did I?

Gods, he loves it when your voice gets like that, with that mix of coldness and heat that drives him mad.

If you are expecting an apology, you know by now you have to work harder for it.

Hvitserk has long since accepted how easily his body will surrender to you, how effortlessly you make him submit to you without but a word, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like defying you once in a while, even if it is in small things such as this.

At his silence you pull back, a quirk on your lip as you look him over. Even as you take a step back, Hvitserk remains against that door, breaths quickening at the look in your eyes.

You motion with your head to the bed, and order, “Undress for me.”

He obeys without hesitation, quickly and maybe a tad eagerly, but he doesn’t care about hiding it.

Hvitserk feels your eyes on him as he strips down, and it makes him feel exposed, vulnerable, way past the nakedness of his body.

Before the nakedness, the way he stands there -exposed, offering all that he is and hoping you will take him-, can get to his head; before the thoughts of inadequacy and sudden and pointless insecurity can take root in his mind, you are there, sweet voice and gentle touch and everything he could ever want, smiling up at him with a softness he isn’t sure he deserves.

Hvitserk doesn’t know how you do it, how you manage to pick up everything about him, how you manage to calm down fears he didn’t know he had and also awaken wants he didn’t know he could have.

But you do. And now, as you take your fill of him, hands trailing over the muscles of his shoulders and working down his chest; he can surrender and think of nothing but you, and what it feels like you be yours.

If these scattered hours are all he can get, then he is still the luckiest man in the world, he knows it.

He knows it, but it still makes his chest pull tight when you tilt your head up and giggle against his lips, as if you are truly happy to be with him for more than the play you get into, as if you are as drunk off him as he is off you; because he knows he is fooling himself in thinking you want anything more than this.

Instead of giving morose thoughts any more free reign in his head, Hvitserk answers your silent command and leans forward, letting his eyes flutter shut as he stops, just shy of kissing you.

He feels your smile against his lips when you cross the remaining distance, and his heart skips a beat in his chest at the intensity behind your kiss. One hand tangled on the hair at the back of his neck, you guide his movements as you deepen the kiss, tongue mercilessly slipping into his mouth and stealing him of breath.

There is no feeling like this one, and he knows he truly is addicted. Addicted to how natural, how right, it is to be in your arms, surrendering to you. Addicted to how you look at him like there is nothing you want more. Addicted to everything about you, really.

When you pull back, all-too-soon for his liking, Hvitserk chases after your lips, leaning down to try and capture your mouth again.

You put a hand on his mouth to stop him, and, distracted it seems, you trail your fingertips down, parting his lips. He has never felt as wanted as he does when your gaze drops to his mouth.

A breath, two, and he holds his own as he awaits for whatever it is you will do, whatever it is you will demand. Hvitserk knows that regardless, he will grant you anything.

“I’ve missed this,” You whisper, quietly as you trace his lower lip with your finger. “I’ve missed your mouth on me.”

The effect of your words is immediate, filling him with a restless sort of energy while at the same time soothing at some part of him he refuses to give voice to. Yes, you want him, you want the pleasure he can give you, no one else.

No one else can make you feel like he can, no one. And you want no one else.

Swallowing thickly, he tries, “Can I?”

“Can you what, amor?” You press, smug smile curving at your lips. “What is it you want?”

“I want to eat you out, I want to make you come,” He blurts out, at the quirk of your eyebrow amending hoarsely, “Please.”

You say nothing, but the smile on your lips is devilish, is the reason behind the way his heart thrashes madly in his chest.

Your eyes drop to the ground before you, and then slowly lift to meet his again, the command clear even before you speak, head titled to the side.

“Sabes que te ves tan bonito de rodillas.”

Keeping his eyes on you, tethered to your darkened gaze and unable to look away, Hvitserk drops to his knees before you.

He could swear your expression softens, a strange tenderness overcoming you, and you reach with a soft hand to cup the side of his face, your thumb running back and forth under his eye.

After debating on what you might think of it, he decides to lean into this secret fantasy of his, a fantasy he sometimes can lose himself in, where you want him like wants you, where you care for him the way he does for you, where the warmth in your eyes is love; and leans into your touch, turning his face towards your hand and basking in the soft affection.

Your smile widens, bottom lip trapped under your teeth as you give the barest of nods, granting him permission.

Swallowing thickly, Hvitserk reaches for you, settling his hands at the back of your thighs, slowly travelling up, trailing over the impossibly soft skin with reverence.

Unable to stop himself, when he reaches your ass he grips a little tighter, squeezing the soft flesh under his hands, and, in a daring breath, he pulls you closer, making you stumble a step forward.

Your hand on his hair forcing his head back is immediate. Hvitserk smiles up at you, not bothering to hide that the reason he misbehaved is because he wanted to have you remind him of his place.

“Behave.” You warn, but still release your hold on his hair and let him have his fill.

He smiles, and presses that smile over the side of your hip, right above the elastic of the offending garment that he both loves and hates right now, hooking one finger on the elastic and slowly, torturing both you and himself, tugging it down.

He reverently kisses each new expanse of skin he discovers, before switching to the other side, and doing the same.

Lifting his eyes to you, Hvitserk slides the lace panties down the soft skin of your legs, trailing his hands down the back of your calves as you lift each leg to take them off.

But the second leg he doesn’t let go of, looking at you with the plea clearly written in his eyes. Your head tilts to the side as you smile down at him, and with a caress of your nails down the shaved side of his head that makes him shiver, you take a couple of steps backwards.

Back resting against the wall, you look at him in a way that makes him feel like he is the prey, even as he moves across the floor to cross the distance between you.

Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, Hvitserk leans up to press a trail of kisses down your stomach, starting right under your bellybutton.

Gods, you weren’t bluffing when you sent that picture, you really were touching yourself just before he came here. He can see in the slickness of your core, can taste it when he dares lick a long strip up your center.

Just the thought of that, imagining you working your fingers over the tight little nub, or curling your own fingers inside you just the way he does, wishing he was there, getting off to the thought, the memory, of him; makes him lose his breath.

He licks his lips, but before he can get to you, your hand on his hair tightens, drawing a hiss from him. You keep him still until he meets your gaze.

“Eyes on me, alright?” You order, waiting for him to nod before you let him taste you again.

He had missed the taste of you, had missed making you squirm and shatter with only his tongue. And now he eats you out a man starved, hungry for every little moan he can make you let out, desperate for every breathy call of his name you can grant him.

When he first gets his fingers inside you, your hand on his hair tightens to the point that the familiar blend of pain and pleasure shoots down his spine, making him groan against you.

You tug on his hair again, a reminder of your rules that makes him realize his eye shad fallen closed; and he silently obeys, holding your dark gaze.

One more time he forgets himself and lets his eyes fall closed, and this time the tug on his hair is sharper, more pain than pleasure. The third time he forgets because when he pulls back momentarily, the sight before him stalls him, and his eyes linger on the way his fingers disappear inside of you, and a pit of thrilling fear runs down his spine when you don’t remind him of the rules that time. You never forget to enforce them, he knows that.

Hvitserk feels you climbing higher and higher, he knows your tells by now, and continues a steady pace as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, finding that almost as desperate as you are to come he is to see you come for him.

Your voice, haggard and hoarse as you call his name, will always be his favorite sound in the world. When you pull him back, making him stop, keeping him tethered, your hand on his hair keeping him still, he has to stop himself from reaching down to grasp at his acing cock, if only to relieve some of the pressure that’s building inside him.

You run your thumb over his bottom lip, a hint of possessiveness in the gesture that isn’t lost to him, and motion with your head for Hvitserk to get on the bed.

The sheets are cool against his back, making him realize how much he feels like he is burning under your smoldering gaze.

Your hands grasp at his wrists, and move his arms up over his head, making him hold on to the headboard. When he does, his reward is a deep kiss that makes him whine breathlessly when you pull away.

Wordlessly, you reach down and grasp his hard cock in your hand, running your thumb over the tip and collecting any precum to make the movements of your hand easier.

Hvitserk holds his breath as you start the slow work of your hand on him, languid strokes that send little shocks of electricity down his spine with each movement of your wrist, with each caress of your free hand on his leg that nears close enough to his balls.

His own hand did no justice to you, and if your hand is all he gets, he will die a happy man.

Unable to stop himself from thrusting up into your touch when you finally reach with your free hand to grasp at his balls, the soft touch enough to make him call out your name.

He feels you seal your silent praises against his neck in soft kisses, and slowly but surely you bring him higher and higher, taking him all the way to the edge of the abyss, but not letting him fall just yet.

“I’m, ah, I’m close,” He warns you, eyes fluttering open to meet your gaze. He searches desperately for an answer he knows he won’t find there, and pleads, “Let me come, baby, please. I’ve…I’ve been good, I-…”

“Hm, have you?” You ask, and your hand doesn’t slow down, still bringing him closer and closer to the edge with each stroke, with each movement of your wrist.

Hvitserk nods rapidly, a moan of your name that sounds like a prayer leaving his lips as he desperately awaits your permission.

You don’t stop, and you don’t give him permission.

He can’t come. He knows he can’t.

He wants to, though. He wants to, so bad.

His hands on the headboard tighten, and at this point his breaths are gasping and ragged, he’s on the edge, he needs only a push, he needs your permission, but you don’t stop.

“Please!” It’s a frustrated, desperate yell on his lips, a plea for mercy.

You continue, a twist of your wrist that makes pleasure shoot down his spine, just the right amount of pressure on your soft hold to fill his head with noise.

He is going to come, he feels it building, tightening and…

“You broke the rules, mi amor.” You whisper by his ear, making his blood run cold.

Your hand leaves him right before he can go over the edge, leaving Hvitserk helplessly rutting against nothing, chasing any kind of friction with each desperate and fruitless buck of his hips.

“No, no, I-…”

“I told you not to look away,” You continue, ignoring his pleas. “And you did.”

You start trailing kisses down his neck, mimicking with your delicate fingers on one side what you do with your lips on the other.

Seeming to disregard the frantic and haggard pattern of his breathing, you continue down Hvitserk’s chest, lingering for a few breaths too long on the lines of the tattoos on his left side.

He closes his eyes, unable to handle the sight of you making your way down his body with that smug and irresistible little smile, with that hunger in your eyes. He feels the ghost of your touch on his legs, spreading them apart before your weight dips the bed in between them.

Hvitserk squeezes his eyes shut more tightly, as if he can will away the images of you with your mouth inches away from his hard cock that his mind conjures up.

Your hands trail up his sides, an allure of softness he finds himself falling for, before the sharp sting of your nails dragging down his sides startles him into attention.

“Open your eyes.” You order, and how could he not obey?

Biting back a choked little whine at the sight of you, lips kiss-bitten and gaze dark, so close to where he wants you makes his cock twitch helplessly where it rests, painfully hard against his stomach.

He says your name, whispers it, moans it, he isn’t sure. Your smile widens, and you venture down his thigh to bite down softly on the inside of it, sending a familiar heat down his spine.

When you lift one eyebrow at his silence, as if he is forgetting something, Hvitserk amends, voice hoarse,

“Please, baby.”

With your hand trailing torturously from the inside of his thigh to the base of your cock, you delight yourself in the way you make him almost tremble in anticipation of your touch, he knows you do.

Grasping him firmly in your small hand, you trace the underside of his cock with your tongue, offering a few kitten licks before you finally have mercy on him and wrap your lips around him.

The feeling of your mouth around him leaves him boneless and pliant against the mattress, a dizzying sort of relief clouding his thoughts; while at the same time it leaves every nerve in his body raw, making every bob of your head send  currents of pleasure down his spine until all he can do is surrender, head tilted back and lips parted, as his body shivers and quivers at each of the expert movements of your mouth on him, at each lap of your tongue, and each stroke of the length your mouth does not reach.

Surely, and more quickly than before, pleasure builds inside him; bringing him closer and closer to the edge he can’t fall off from until you let him.

Hvitserk feels all of him tightening, twisting into a tight spiral, the world around him disappearing because all he can think of and feel and understand is your mouth around him, so wet and soft and warm.

He shudders, resisting the urge to curl around himself, and the sharp cry that leaves his lips as you hum around him is the only warning he can give you, the only plea that can leave his lips that you please, let him come.

The sudden loss of your touch leaves for too long tethered to that spiral, tense and desperate and so, so close¸ and before he can mourn the loss of yet another orgasm, he feels your mouth on him again.

Only this time you are nowhere near his cock, instead biting down somewhere under his left pectoral, clamping your teeth down on him so hard he’s sure you’ve drawn blood, leaving him chasing madly after the pain and the tendrils of pleasure it leaves dancing over his skin.

Hvitserk’s back arches off the bed as a haggard moan leaves his lips. His head feels funny and filled with noise, and he isn’t even sure if that noise isn’t him whimpering and moaning helplessly.

His head falls back, face turned towards the pillow as he takes gasping breaths, trying to hold on to a control he has long since surrendered to you. Hands grasping tightly at the sheets, as if somehow he can keep tethered by grabbing onto them, as if he can keep himself from being drowned in the sensations you draw out of him.

“P-Please, please, I c-…”

You laugh, bubbly little laugh that taunts him, and it sounds so jarringly innocent and lighthearted, that when he opens his eyes and finds the faintest evidence of blood staining your lips he fears he might come untouched.

“What?” You drawl out, hand trailing up and down his chest, “Don’t tell me you can’t take it, amor. We both know you can.

He closes his eyes tightly -that smile is going to kill him one day, he is sure of it- and shakes his head.

You lean closer, and he loves and hates the feel of the lace of your bra as it traces over the skin of his chest when you do.

“You looked away,” You remind him, a ruthless edge to your tone that makes a shiver run down his spine. “Three times. I’m only making sure you don’t forget the rules next time.”

“I-I won’t.” He attempts, even though he knows you won’t let him off easy.

“I know,” You offer, voice almost a sing song. Pressing close to nuzzle at his neck, pressing a kiss to a spot he can tell you are itching to leave your mark on, you promise, “One more. I know you want to be good for me, you can do one more.”

Eyes searching yours, the pull of wanting to be good for you, wanting to earn the praise that makes his chest warm and head fuzzy, is too strong, and Hvitserk nods his head, conceding.

You smile, and grant him one sweet kiss that he finds helps him calm down, slow his breathing even if it robs him of it.

Feeling you grasp his cock once again, Hvitserk shivers. It almost feels overwhelming, like he’s entirely too sensitive to even stand another second of this maddening game; but at the same time the fine line between pleasure and pain that your touch dances on is too enthralling for him to want anything but losing himself in it.

You start working him slowly, almost torturously slow strokes of your hand over his cock, that remains hot and heavy in your grasp.

You trail a few kisses down the column of his throat, but Hvitserk knows better than to expect the softness to continue so for much longer.

Even though he is expecting it, the sharp pain of the bite over that spot on his neck makes him gasp loudly, black spots dancing in his vision as he writhes underneath you on the bed.

Over and over, you continue biting him, marking him; making the line between pleasure and pain all the more blurred as your hand speeds up and tightens slightly on his shaft. But you do not let him get used to anything, keeping Hvitserk drifting as you alternate between the sharp bites and the soothing presses of your lips.

He has long since stopped attempting to stifle the mewls and moans that leave him, and though he does try to stop the helpless and desperate rutting of his hips into your touch, he quickly realizes it is a lost battle as well.

More slowly than before, pleasure builds inside him, and somehow knowing you won’t let him cross over that edge makes him all the more desperate for it.

It feels like it has been hours, like it has been a fucking lifetime of being so close and yet so far, taken to the edge only to be brought safely back even if all he wants to do is fall.

And when you stop for a third time, he knows the sound that leaves his lips is more of a sob than anything else. He even feels the prick of tears in his eyes, and if they have already fallen down his face, he has no idea when.

He feels your hands tun up from his stomach to his chest, the pressure just soft enough to be soothing and just hard enough to be grounding. Hvitserk doesn’t know how you do it, how you drive him wild and calm him down with barely a touch, and he gathers it should scare him that you have this much control over him, but there’s nothing he loves more than that.

“What color, mi amor?” You ask, voice by his ear.

Green, fucking green. Please don’t stop.

He nods his head eagerly, gasping breaths not bringing enough air for him to actually be able to voice anything.

But you aren’t content, and you insist, “Words, Hvitserk.”

He understands why you ask, he understands because the now and the memory of that night somehow blur together to him too, though for different reasons.

This weightlessness, this breathless feeling at surrendering to you, this all-encompassing warmth at having been made yours, it overwhelms him, it fills his sense with nothing but you, and it is a lot like that night.

Your walls are tight and warm around him, and though all you do is rotate your hips just slightly but he feels pleasure shoot through his whole body, leaving him trembling.

The shiver makes you move as well, and more drops of wax make their way to his chest, sealing the heat over his raw nerves. He will lose his mind like this, he is sure of it.

He thinks he hears your voice, but it sounds like he is trying to listen from underwater. He doesn’t mind, he doesn’t care, all he can think of his how good everything feels as he surrenders his body to you, how good he feels being yours.

He forces himself to return to the present, but he could swear the sting of the bite marks that litter his body feel a lot like the lingering heat of the drying wax on his skin.

“G-Green. Fuck, so green, baby.”

You hum, pleased, and seal a proud smile against his lips.

“Good boy.”

His heart races at the praise, and he doesn’t bother telling himself he is asking too much when he tilts his head up, asking for more.

With a breathed laugh, you lean down, chest pressed against his, and kiss him fully, gently even if hungrily. Hvitserk puts his hands on your sides, and when one of them slides to grasp lightly at the curve of your ass, you don’t say anything.

It is a wordless form of praise, to be allowed to venture past what’s allowed like this, and he smiles stupidly against your lips.

Pulling back and looking into his eyes, your legs on either side of his hips, you lower yourself over him, sliding torturously over his cock but not allowing him to enter you yet.

Hvitserk feels like breaking, he feels like he’s shaking and he wonders absently if you can feel it. His head tilted back, all he can do is give up a haggard groan to the ceiling above.

He feels your hand grasping him and he swears he could cry from the relief, certain now you will have mercy and allow him inside you.

Forcing his eyes open to look at you, he finds you already focused on him -and what a heady feeling it is, to be wanted by you, to be wanted like this, shattered, pliant, submitting-, biting your lip.

Guiding the tip of his cock against you, making it rub just slightly against your clit, you shudder, and lean forward so that your face is almost hidden against Hvitserk’s shoulder.

He feels you bite down without much warning on already-sensitive skin by his shoulder, and hisses at the sharp sting.

“Fuck, you’re, ah, you’re-…”

He couldn’t for the life for him know what he was trying to say, and the cry that leaves his lips drowns out any words when you finally take him inside you. A shiver makes you tremble and wrecks you both, and all Hvitserk can do is let his head fall back into the pillows, lips parted and eyes squeezed shut as you demand your pleasure from him and give back the same.

In the rhythmic movement of your bodies, the quiet and not so quiet cries that leave your lips and wash over him like little electrical currents to run over his skin, the drag of your nails or mark of your teeth on his chest and neck as you climb higher and higher, Hvitserk loses track of time, loses his breath, loses what was left of his mind.

He isn’t sure if it is with words that he warns you when he is getting close this time, but you understand regardless. Leaning down so you are face to face, you claim his lips in a biting kiss he can only half-heartedly return, too-lost in gasping breaths and trembling limbs.

Pulling back with a sharp bite over his bottom lip that you soothe away with a flick of your tongue, you order, “Come for me.”

His orgasm overwhelms him, dragging him under a rip current in which he can’t make out up from down; leaving him gasping helplessly, lips parted and throat strained at the desperate sounds of painful relief and weakening ecstasy that rumble past his chest.

There’s nothing but you, and the maddening scent of your perfume, and the feel of your hands on him, the sound of your voice as you call out his name in adoration and ecstasy, the tight warmth of your walls around him. You, you, you.

Pleasure steals the strength from his body, the air from his lungs, and even after he’s finished, he can do nothing but lay there, trembling and almost aching, feeling every shiver of his body in the aftershocks rattles him to his core.

He’s barely aware of you sliding off him -he thinks he manages one last weak and haggard moan as his softening cock slips out of you-, of your soft touches as you clean him up -he hopes, he really does, that you understand the mindless hum he lets out as his gratitude, because it is-.

All Hvitserk can think of is the dizzying relief, the bone-deep satisfaction of having been good for you; and he leans into that weightlessness, into that untethered existence, trusting blindly that you are there with him, that if nothing else your voice and your touch can keep him bound to this world, that you can take care of him and keep him safe.

He comes back to himself bit by bit, regaining a bit more of his mind thanks to each of the soft kisses you press over the marks you left behind, murmured praises that fill him with warmth in between each kiss.

“You were so good for me,” You’re telling him, and if he’s smiling drowsily, like the lovesick idiot that he is, well, no one can blame him. “So good. I’ve missed this, missed you so much.”

“Mhm, missed you too.” He drawls out, eyes fluttering shut when you stretch out by his side, your body soft and warm against his.

Even lifting his arm to drape it over you when you nuzzle close to him proves to be difficult, but he manages, and he soaks up all your warmth and your comfort as he dozes off in your arms.

After making him accept the water bottle and checking the bite mark on his neck -he knew you’d draw blood one of these days, was hoping for it really-, you sit up on the bed.

“Shower?” He makes a face at the suggestion, and you laugh, your nose furrowed adorably when you do. “Sorry, no bathtub in this room.”

“If you’d come to my place instead of here, we wouldn’t have that problem, now would we?”

Not that he even suggested you go there tonight -he thinks he might have, if he had any thoughts to spare when he read your message, and if his brother and his girl weren’t spending the night in-, but he still feels he needs to make that point. Sometimes he likes defying you for the sake of it, he’s found out.

“I can hear you pouting, Hvitserk,” You grumble good-naturedly, “Were you this whiny when I left?”

“Well, you left me for two weeks, can you complain?”

“I’m your mistress, not your trainer.”

“Aren’t you?” He taunts, and he knows immediately in the glint of your eye that you got him.

“I thought pet play wasn’t your thing,” You muse, annoyingly smug when you tilt your head to the side. “If it is, there’s some lovely collars that wo-…”

“Alright, alright, shower it is.” He interrupts, quick strides taking him to you.

The laugh you let out, carefree and playful, fills him with warmth, lets him pretend this is his life. This teasing, this easy intimacy, this familiarity.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, both of you waddling clumsily to the bathroom as he tries fruitlessly to make you stop laughing by pressing kiss after kiss on the side of your neck and face, Hvitserk can pretend this is his life.

And by Freyja and all the Gods, it feels like it is for a moment, and…he wants it to be, more than anything.

He’s fucked, he knows it.

But, for now, he forgets. He follows you into the entirely-too-small shower, and he laughs at the face you make when he puts his body between yours and the spray, and he holds you close and forgets.

Few times he has actually spent the night with you, and now, as he holds you to him, your back to his chest as you both drift off to sleep, he tells himself he should know better than to overthink this, he tells himself it means nothing and you just offered because it is nearly dawn already; but he still finds himself hoping this means something.

Maybe you missed him too, in the time you were apart, missed him enough to realize this no-strings-attached thing is not all you want anymore. Maybe you want him near too, maybe you have been falling steadily -madly, helplessly- all this time too.

It was that first time he spent the night with you that he realized for the first time the depths of his feelings for you.

Your focus is drawn to his chest and before he can figure out what you are doing you reach and peel a lingering drop of wax, the most adorable of furrows between your brows.

Still, he jumps a bit, and you lift big eyes to him, offering a sheepish, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He mumbles. He isn’t sure what to do, how to act. A part of him feels like he should apologize, like he should be ashamed.

It was nothing short of amazing, the best night of his fucking life really, and Hvitserk feels like he’s somehow ruined it, like he was too weak, too much, too something.

You reach for the water bottle on the nightstand, taking a sip or two, but your gaze remains on him. Your eyes on him make him feel exposed, and he grits his teeth against the impulse to look away.

“Are you doing alright, Hvitserk?” You ask, that unending softness in your tone. He hates it now, because he is no longer mi amor, he is Hvitserk. Hvitserk, that was too much, Hvitserk, that ruined things.

He nods, maybe a little too hurriedly, “Mhm. Yeah.”

But your eyes on him, your attention on him, it makes him jittery. Before he realizes it, before he can try to stop it, his body is trembling, and his breaths quicken.

Why can’t he control it? He is fine, everything is fine.

It was the best sex of his life, why does he feel like he will break into pieces? Why can’t he fucking breathe?

“Hey, it’s alright,” You soothe, scooting closer, “Being jittery after an intense scene is normal.”

“Huh.” He nods his head, he doesn’t really know what to do with that information.

You put both your hands on his chest, soft and cool against the sensitive skin, and meet his eyes, unwavering. Slowly, carefully, you guide him into breathing in par with you; and he can slowly come down from it.

He has a feeling you know he is craving the touch, the contact of your body against his, a bit more than usual, but he doesn’t mind that you do, because as long as he can hold you to him and find something to ground himself on the short and uneven rhythms you tap against his chest with your fingers, he doesn’t much mind anything.

After a while, he isn’t sure how long, you lift your head and, chin resting on his chest, offer, “Hungry?”

He was feeling like shit, probably looking like it too, but even if he felt like he had been stitched back together after breaking apart at the seams, that night with you, eating cheap takeout and talking until the sun rose was no doubt one of his favorite nights. Even without counting that he had had the best sex of his life to date that night, it still would have been right there at the top.

When he wakes up in the morning the first thing he notices is how his every sense is clouded by you, in the best way possible. The faint scent of your perfume and something that is just you lingering in the air, filling his nose when he buries his face against your hair, burrowing closer to you; the warmth you radiate but also seem to seek in him, based on how you settle in his arms with a sigh when he moves closer; the even and soothing sound of your breaths as you continue to sleep.

In the time it takes you to wake up -and he can’t for the life of him tell how long that is, too lost in his own thoughts-, Hvitserk decides he will come clean today. He decides he will tell you how he feels, and he makes a draft of a plan on how to convince you to actually give the two of you a shot.

You are everything he could want in a woman, from the way your nose furrows adorably when you laugh at his stupid jokes to the way you can give him a look that makes him want to beg you to fuck him, he is certain there’s no one out there like you, no one that can make him feel like you do.

Murmuring your good morning, you offer quiet and short words about taking a shower, and Hvitserk lets you go, drumming his fingers over his bare stomach as he waits for you to come out.

He may or may not give himself a mental pep talk to give himself enough confidence to go through with this, and the voice in his head during said pep talk may or may not sound a lot like Ivar’s.

When you do, he blurts out, maybe less articulately than he intended,

“I want more than this.”

You turn to him, eyes wide, “What?”

“You heard me,” He states, confidently walking towards you. He doesn’t feel confident in the slightest, more like the opposite, but he might as well fake it till he makes it. “And I think you want the same.”

“Hvitserk…”

“I care about you, as more than a friend,” He admits before he can think of keeping the words to himself. At your silence he feels a pit of dread grow on his stomach. He really fucked it up this time, didn’t he? “I have for the past…Gods, I don’t even know.”

There it is, that little furrow between your brows.

“You never said anything.”

He shrugs, “Couldn’t risk losing you.”

“What changed?”

You left town for two weeks and I felt I was losing my mind pretending I didn’t miss you like crazy.

He could say that, it would be more than true. He is done pretending he didn’t feel your absence in these past weeks and pretending he didn’t wish more than anything that he had the right to just call you and talk to you until he fell asleep to the sound of your voice; he is done pretending he didn’t feel chained and restrained -and not in a fun way- by this distance you put between the two of you.

I spent a night with you in my arms and I couldn’t imagine waking up alone again.

He could say that, and it would also be true. The past twelve hours have been a fucking dream, and for all the times he allowed himself to get a little lost in the fantasy where there is love in your eyes and permanence in your embrace, he has also realized there is not that much of a difference between what you have now and what you could have.

But that is about what he feels, and he remembers at some point Ubbe told him sentences starting with ‘I’ are not good for conversations about feelings, or something like that, he wasn’t really listening; so he tries something else, that is also true.

“I-…we could be so great together, yeah?” He tries, eyes jumping between yours as he tries reading anything in your expression, in your gaze. “I can make you happy, I can-…let me prove it to you.”

“Prove…?” You shake your head, stepping forward. That’s towards him instead of towards the door to bolt out of here, and that’s a good sign, right? “You don’t have anything to prove, Hvitserk.”

He swallows thickly at the silence that follows your words, because there’s only one thing that might make or break this neat little plan of his, and it hinges on your answer.

“Do you…do you think you could…see me like that? Like something more than this?”

“I could, I-I do, but…” You do. He can pretend you didn’t say that fucking word after admitting to seeing him as more than a friend, in fact, he will pretend, happily. You press your lips together, big eyes lifting to meet his. “What if it doesn’t…work out?”

“What if it does?” He asks, taking a tentative step closer, feeling his lips pull into a smile. Finding courage in that little curve of your lips that you grant him, he confesses, “I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t think there’s much of a chance of going back now, you know.”

You chuckle, and he will ignore the way it is a little watery because he isn’t much better.

“I think…I think I’m falling in love with you too.” You offer, tentatively. Hvitserk cannot keep the stupidly wide smile from curving at his lips, lovesick and almost delirious as he asks, just to make sure,

“Yeah?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

He surges forward, and he isn’t surprised you have the same idea, the both of you meeting halfway to kiss. He kisses you hungrily, a tad of relief and a bit of desperation, mouth moving eagerly over yours.

His hands wander the exposed skin of your back, and he presses harder against you, smiling at the kittenish little moan you stifle against his lips. By all the Gods, he adores you, and he has you, all of you.

He is half certain there is some kind of cosmic misfire that has somehow made it so that he gets to have this, but he will not hesitate to hold on to it, hold on to you.

I trust you, yeah? He had told you all those months ago when you both jumped into this.

And that never changed. He has trusted you with his body and everything else for all this time; it is effortless to trust you with his heart now.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading!! Would love to know what you think!

In case it wasn’t clear enough, the two flashbacks (the short one where he is asked about the color, and the longer one where he is thinking about when he realized he was falling) are of a scene in the past (involving wax play and, though it wasn’t explicit in this one, impact play) that ended up being more intense than usual/expected, and Hvitty went through a pretty rough subdrop afterwards. Idk why I needed you to know about that scene, but apparently I did. I might (might) write another smutty oneshot for Hvitserk and this Reader character that goes into how that went down, idk.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​ @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​ @fae-sedai​ @zuxiezendler​ @crazybunnyladysworld​ @stupiddarkkside​ @northumbria​ @aprilivar​  

Btw, I have more Hvitserk works planned (because someone enables me, ahem, @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​), so I’m gonna request that if you are in this taglist and want to REMAIN in it for the Hvitserk works, you let me know, otherwise I’ll keep you on the just Ivar one. Of course, if you wanna be added to the Hvitty taglist, ask away!

[ketamineharry]

Whenever I’m With You Pt 1- Harry Lewis

Requested: No, this is just inspired by Home, by Edith Whiskers

Tags: None, just my god awful writing x

Harry had been your best friend ever since you could remember. You were joined at the hip; wherever you went, he went and vice versa. Besides your parents, he was the first person you loved, a selfless love, putting his needs before your own every single time. He was everything to you and more.

He was the one to bring you out of your shell, as you were quite shy and reserved. On the other hand, he was mischievous and cheeky — always on the lookout for the next prank. His ‘pranks’ always ended the both of you in trouble, but neither of you minded that much, sure you were grounded but you’d be grounded together. So, you’d just fly paper planes into each other’s gardens, messages scrawled in messy handwriting as you tried to communicate with one another.

So it was only natural, when he moved to London that you followed suit. You packed your suitcase and left without a second thought. Leaving your small island for a big city, was a massive change however. A change that you weren’t quite anticipating. Harry’s work with YouTube only became more and more successful, meaning he had less and less time for you. You didn’t really mind however, as you knew how important it all was to him.

One afternoon, while you were at his flat, he asked you to be in one of his videos with the rest of his friends. You weren’t entirely sure about the idea. Being in the public consciousness wasn’t something that you desired, so you weren’t quite sure if you could prepare yourself for the potential backlash; not only by the fans you recognised in comment sections, but from complete strangers too.

“I’ll think about it.” You told him, as you made yourself a glass of water. Your mind made up on declining the offer, you didn’t want to face criticism and after all, everyone online faced criticism.

“Come on Y/N, it’s a competition based around baking… if you agree to it, we’re sure to win.” He pleaded. “Plus, it means we get to spend more time together and that’s the most important thing.” He continued, trying his very best to convince you.

“Fine.” You said, a sense of exasperation escaping you as you did. At least now that you had agreed, he’d stop annoying you. “So what were you thinking of baking? We can do a few test bakes for it, make sure it’s really good before the real thing.” You continued, rolling your sleeves up.

“Oh… about that… I actually have something I have to film, so why don’t we rearrange for next week?” He responds, a hopeful look crossing his features as he searched your eyes for an answer.

“Sure. I’ll see you next week then.” You responded, slightly deflated. He had seemed so excited to have you on board and then, as soon as you were he had moved onto something else. Perhaps this was something you had to become accustomed to, the YouTube life. The life where your best friend was stripped from you and you just had to accept it because the social media world moved so fast, and he had to always be two steps ahead to make sure he survived.

As you made your way out of the flat, you ordered yourself an Uber. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry was using you. Sure, you could bake but his roommate Freezy hosted his own cooking show on YouTube, so it would have been much easier and accessible to ask him, yet he had asked you. Why? Because you were a female, and females in videos always did better than males. Especially when his audience was primarily male teens.

With that thought lingering in your mind, you made a call to Ethan. You had to get to the bottom of this. Despite how close you had once been, using you for the sake of a few extra views, was beyond disheartening. As the phone rang out, your nervousness increased ten fold.

“Y/N! For what do I owe the pleasure?” Although he was on the phone, you could practically feel Ethan’s infectious smile.

“Ethan… it’s so nice to hear your voice, it’s been ages.” You started, as you tucked a piece of loose hair behind your ear. Although you knew this conversation was important, you couldn’t help the anxiety that accompanied it. For the sake of politeness, you decided to indulge in a conversation with him asking him how YouTube was going, if he had any projects coming up soon that he was able to tell you about, all of that good stuff before bringing anything up that could cause potential tension between Harry and his friends.

“Anyway Ethan… the thing is, the reason I decided to drop you a call is because Harry has invited me to film with you guys. I was just wondering what the concept of the video was, he told me it involves baking but that’s about it.” You revealed, a nervous laugh escaped from you as you did.

“Y/N… Harry really should have told you the whole premise before asking you to be on board. The reason he’s asked you is because we’re filming a clickbait video for Valentine’s Day, where we all have ‘girlfriends’ and we’re baking with them. Obviously, there’s Simon and Talia, Josh and Freya, I’m bringing along Elz, as the other boys aren’t comfortable with having their girlfriends on YouTube; we’ve asked our manager to get some girls in. Harry was adamant on asking you though.”

“Oh.” Is all you could manage to say. “Listen Ethan, I’ve gotta talk to Harry. I’ll call you back once I have. Thank you for giving me the full picture.” You continued, as you ended the call.

The anger you felt was far too strong and to actually call Harry. In all the time you had known him, he had never misled you. If there was something going on, you were always in the know. There was nothing that you would keep from each other.

‘Girlfriend clickbait, that you were adamant on asking me to accompany you on… thanks for including that part Harry. We’re supposed to tell each other everything. You can shove your video where the sun doesn’t shine.’

Without a second thought, you hit send. You blocked Harry’s number from your phone, as you locked your phone. You ensured your phone was receiving notifications so that you could check when your Uber would arrive. But as far as you were concerned, Harry was just another stranger in the big city.

[forever-rogue]

prompt request! “I’ve never been anyone’s anything.” “You’re everything to me.” - with Frankie 🥺

I hope you enjoy! I am so soft for Frankie!

Frankie x Fem!Reader

No Warnings

»»————-　♡　————-««

This was the hardest, no scratch that, worst time of the year.

It wasn't that you hated the holidays, no they weren't so bad themselves, it was just...everything else.

It was hard to constantly smile and be happy when you were single and alone during the holidays. Again. Year after painstaking year.

The whole single thing wasn't the worst part either, it was just...the fact that everything seemed to remind you of that seemingly the world was coupled up while you were by yourself. That and the fact that every family member in the world seemed to ask the same questions every year at your holiday gatherings.

Who are you seeing?

When are you settling down and getting married?

When are you going to have children?

The whole lot of it was enough to exhaust you, mentally, spiritually, and physically and often maybe you contemplate avoiding you any holiday gathering all together. Yet you still managed to drag yourself to them and get through it all, plastering on a fake smile as you politely answered their questions. Your answers were always short and to the point, but you still remained polite...despite the fact that you wished the ground would swallow you up whole.

Maybe this year you would just skip everything. But then you'd have to answer as to why you weren't with the family. Shit.

It was a catch-22.

But there was another idea that quickly crossed your mind. It wasn't the best, you probably should have just let it go, but something inside you was just nagging at you and telling you to do it.

Before you knew it, your phone was in hand and you had dialed Frankie's number. Sometimes you were beyond thankful for your best friend.

"Hey bee," he answered after a few rings, his voice immediately soft and gentle, causing your heart to settle and a sense of peace wash over you.

"Hi Frankie," immediately a sense of unease and nerves washed over you as you realized just exactly what you were asking of him. You closed your eyes and let out a soft sigh and decided to just do it. It was now or never, "can I ask you for a favor? Kind of a big one..."

"Shoot," you could hear a note of concern in his voice as he came to the conclusion that something was up, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you swallowed the lump in your throat, "I just...will you come with me to my family's holiday party next weekend?"

"Of course," he laughed lightly; it was a weird thing of you to ask him or completely out of the blue, he would often go with you to family things.

"Umm, there's a catch," you blurted, "I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend."

"Oh. Oh?" a stunned silence met you on the other end.

"Yeah," you feigned a laugh, hoping he wouldn't suddenly back out, "its just that...I don't know if I can handle another year of everyone asking me why I'm single and whatnot. They already know you and love you so it would be easy."

"Okay," he answered after a few awkward, tense beats of pause, "yeah, we can...we can definitely do that."

"Thank you so much, Frankie," you let out a sigh of relief, "I owe you big time. I love you so much!"

"Yeah...just let text me all the details later," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "umm, I have to go now. I'll talk to you later."

"Sounds good," you already felt so much better, "talk to you soon!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

By the time your family Christmas party rolled around, you were feeling an odd mixture of emotions. Happy, because you wouldn't be alone and your best friend would be by your side. Relieved that you could dodge the annoying questions from your family. And yet, you were also feeling a sense of...nerves?

As you prepared to go, taking a long hot shower and indulging in some self care an odd sense washed over you. Slipping on the pretty dress you'd picked out, hoping Frankie would like it too, you suddenly found yourself nervous realizing that he was the cause of your nerves. Although only posing as your boyfriend for the night, part of you couldn't help but wonder would it be like if he really was your boyfriend. You wished he was; you wished you could call him yours. But no; he was just your handsome friend that you were hopelessly in love with.

Bummer.

As you finished doing your hair and make up to just how you liked it, a knock came at your door before Frankie opened it and announced himself.

"In here!" you called out to him as you listened to his heavy footfalls, taking a deep breath to steady and remind yourself that was just your best friend. Nothing more and nothing less.

But as you sat finished putting in your earrings, you heard the creak of the floor followed by a small, "wow."

"Hi Frankie," you turned and offered him a smile before almost losing whatever bit of cool you had at the sight of him. He was handsome as ever, dressed in a well fitting pair of pants and button up, his dark curls styled elegantly and not hidden under his signature hat for once. He was perfection.

"Wow yourself, Frankie," you beamed at him, "you look wonderful - handsome."

"This?" a tinge of pink flushed his cheeks as he tried to play off your compliment, "its nothing much...but thank you."

"I'll just be a minute and then we can go," you went to back to the mirror and studied yourself, making sure you looked exactly how you wanted. It was hard to keep your eyes off of Frankie; he looked so handsome and sweet it was almost hard to define the line between remembering he was a friend and wanting nothing more than to have him. Instead you tried to focus on your reflection, "thanks again for doing this Frankie. I owe you big time, maybe dinner and movie marathon this weekend? I'll even let you pick the movies."

"Yeah," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "that sounds good. Umm...can I ask you something?"

"Anything, you know that."

"Why me? Why do you even need a fake boyfriend to bring? You've gone alone or with me as friends..." his question made your heart stop as you looked up and met his eyes in the mirror. He looked just as confused as you felt.

"Firstly, why not you? You're my best friend, and we both know you're a total catch," you turned around and held out your hand as if to say obviously, "and I dunno. I just can't handle another year of being ambushed with questions about why I'm single and how I'll end up as a spinster. I'd just like it to be different for one year...to feel like I actually mean something to someone. Even if it just for a night."

"What do you mean?" an offended and upset look crossed his features as he put his hands on your shoulders and turned you to face him. You said too much. Too damn much and now you felt like a fool that was just about to cry, "do you have any clue how much you mean to me? And so many others?"

"I know, obviously you're my best friend," you feigned a weak laugh as you tried to work your way around this conversation, "I lo- care about you too. Tremendously. But I mean...I've been never been anyone's anything. I've never had someone love and care for me, its always been a boyfriend or so here and there but nothing real. And I know its stupid to be so upset about it, but for just one night I want to feel like maybe I could be that for someone. Maybe one day I will...I dunno, Frankie. I probably sound like an idiot. Either way...I just...thank you."

Before you could move away or do anything, Frankie gently, ever so tenderly, reached up and wiped away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks. You allowed your gaze to meet his and found yourself staring at wide, nervous eyes.

"I can't believe you think that about yourself little bee," he whispered quietly, "you are everything to me. Everything."

"Frankie-"

"Listen, please, just let me say what I have too or I'm afraid I never will," he slid his hands down your arms and let himself inhale and exhale deeply. There was a best of silence before he steadied himself, "I am so in love with you. I have been for a long time...I just never...I couldn't bring myself to say it. But I have never just thought of you a friend."

"You don't have to-"

"I mean it," he insisted as he took your hand and pulled you closed to him, "I wish I would have told you a long time ago. But I couldn't just listen to you say these things when they're not true."

"Frankie..." you paused as you looked at your entwined hands, contemplating your next action. You brought your other hand to his cheek, gently touching his skin. There was a moment of hesitation before you decided to dive right in and kiss him.

It was a slow, sweet thing as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your frame against his. A hand was around your waist and the other cradled the back of your head as you carded a hand through his dark locks. It was like there was no learning curve, no trying, just like it was meant to be. When you pulled apart, both of you reluctantly, you couldn't help the megawatt grin that was on your face. The matching one on Frankie's face was enough to send butterflies fluttering in your belly.

"I umm...I love you, Frankie," you stated the obvious as the two of you laughed, "I guess that's kind of obvious, huh?"

"I like hearing it," he admitted as you felt a flush of warmth run over your face, "why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Why didn't you?"

"Nervous," you both admitted at the same time. You shook your head, wishing you hadn't been such a fool for so long. But before you could lament anything, Frankie quickly captured your lips for another kiss, this one almost shy, but still saccharine.

"You better stop because I could get used to that," you teased as he just grinned.

"I will kiss you every day then," he promised, "and then some."

"I'd like that," you agreed, "I'd like that a lot."

"You're not the only one," he reached for your jacket and helped you put it on, "but we better go before we're late. You know how your mom gets."

"Is it bad I don't want to go? Can we just stay here instead?"

"Don't you want to go and introduce everyone to your boyfriend?" he said with another gentle peck, "I'm sure they're dying to know who it is."

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?" you agreed as you helped straighten his shirt, "are you free after? Tonight?"

"For you? Always, mi vida," he promised as he kissed the top of your head, "now let's go and have fun. Everything else can wait for later."

"Hey Frankie?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you," you whispered softly as he seemed to melt at your words.

"I love you too, bee. Always and forever."

[tenthgrove]

500 Followers Celebration!!!: Part 1 (La Squadra Backstories)

Hey! Thank you so much for 500 amazing followers! Every single one of you mean so much to me!

Part 1 of this celebration is, as the title suggests, my headcanon backstory for each of La Squadra. As some of you know I was at some point in the process of writing a full multi-chapter fic on this, but since that unfortunately never came to fruition beyond the first couple chapters, here is a shortened version of the stories that were originally planned.

Part 2 is going to be a little something I wrote a while back but never felt brave enough to send to more than a few people. That will be seeing the light of day soon. ;)

Risotto

Risotto Dante Nero was born in a small, poor farming village in Sicily, somewhere in the vicinity of Catania. His parents were a young, dysfunctional couple who weren't ready for a kid in the first place. Seeing their newborn son had 'evil' eyes was the last nail in the coffin for them, and they gave the baby up to his paternal grandmother when he was only days old.

Despite being shunned by his family over the aesthetic defect, Risotto was able to form a close bond with his older cousin, Domenico, who would eventually move in with him and his grandmother after being disowned by the family himself. Domenico helped Risotto find friends, and was the main reason why the next few years were the happiest in the young boys life.

Unfortunately, Domenico was struck and killed at age just 19 by a drunk driver, a millionaire from Milan who on top of his intoxication, was driving incredibly fast. Risotto never recovered from the grief; his personality was altered drastically and he eventually dropped out of school. His grandmother indulged him in his revenge fantasies, believing that he would never seriously carry them out. This proved the biggest mistake of her life.

At age 18 Risotto left home to hunt down Domenico's killer. Despite the years of preparation he was in way over his head and was eventually forced to make a deal with Passione for the resources he would need to break into the mansion and not get caught. But the newly initiated mafioso found that revenge did nothing for his grief. Now, he simply had nothing to work for.

Risotto fell into a deep depression for the next two years, doing his duties as a low-ranking soldato for Passione but feeling utterly empty inside. It became so dire that after becoming injured in a fight with a stand user, he welcomed what looked to be his impending death.

But Risotto did not die that day, being saved by an associate of the gang and rushed to hospital. After hearing word that Risotto had defeated a stand user, Prosciutto became interested and approached Risotto for help with a hit he had been assigned to. Risotto agreed and Prosciutto developed a liking for the young man. A few months later, when Prosciutto was tasked with forming a specialised squad for assassination, he remembered Risotto and requested he become the team’s captain. Risotto was put through at once for receiving a stand, and was seated at the head of the brand new La Squadra di Esecuzione.

Prosciutto

Maiale Crepuscolo was born the daughter of a powerful Don in Naples, and his much neglected wife. Raised in luxury, he came to resent his callous father, especially when the man continued to behave adulterously despite his wife’s failing health. The death of Mrs Crepuscolo was a huge blow to her 16 year old son. It was around this time that Maiale discovered his male identity and chose a new name for himself: Prosciutto.

Mere months after the death of his wife, Don Crepuscolo married his pregnant mistress, a young woman by the name of Loreta. Despite the circumstances, Prosciutto and Loreta got on very well together, and the young man confided in her about his transgender identity, to be met with her full support. Any faith that Prosciutto may have had in his father before was immediately lost when Loreta was thrown out onto the streets by her new husband, along with their infant son Pesci. His sole reason for doing this was that he had become tired of her, and the baby's crying.

Without his father’s knowing, Prosciutto continued to wire Loreta and Pesci money through his hefty allowance, and counted down the days until he could graduate highschool and become eligible for his mother’s inheritance. The very day he gained access to it, he cut his father off for good.

The next few years of Prosciutto’s life were the best. He went to a prestigious university to study politics and afterwards found work as a journalist. With his father no longer an issue, he medically transitioned and upped the money he was giving to his half-brother and former step-mother. Everything was going perfectly.

At age 24, Prosciutto received a visit by members of Passione, who informed him they had annexed his father’s gang and killed him. As much as Prosciutto insisted they had been estranged for years, the men maintained that Prosciutto was still considered a threat, and could only be allowed to live if he joined the gang. Worse, they threatened him with Pesci’s life. Prosciutto knew he had no choice.

Over the next few years, Prosciutto worked his way up. By age 27 he was granted the privilege to develop a stand, and was quickly pushed into the assassination business as a result of its deadly power. At that time, Passione had no designated assassination team, and individuals ordered to carry out hits had to go running around for volunteers if they needed help on a mission. This is why Prosciutto had sought out Risotto.

When the order to form a hitman squad was given, Prosciutto was initially primed to become the captain. However, he was strongly against taking this role, as Loreta was starting to show signs of chronic illness and Prosciutto wanted to make sure he could still take care of Pesci if it became necessary. Tasked with finding an alternative, Prosciutto initially approached his old friends Sorbet and Gelato, who had been part of the squad sent to confront him after the death of his father and had kept in touch out of pity. The pair were cleared to join the team, but were not trusted by the team’s superiors to become captain. And so, Prosciutto turned once more to Risotto.

Sorbet and Gelato

Sorbet and Gelato could not have been born in more different circumstances, the former in absolute poverty, and the latter in comparative privilege.

Sorbet’s mother was by no means a bad woman. It was just the case that through her crippling addictions and mental illnesses, she was in no means equipped to care for her 6 children, forcing Sorbet, the eldest, to pick up the slack. Though he loved his siblings the young Sorbet resented this role and was easily tempted by a street gang at age 12, who offered him escape from his miserable life through drug peddling. Sorbet began to drift from his family more and more. He soon disappeared from school, and became completely estranged from his mother and siblings.

By age 17 Sorbet had developed a reputation in the gang for ruthlessness, and was approached by its leader to carry out a number of assassinations. He soon became the group’s designated hitman, and was paid generously for the role. He was still however, functionally homeless.

Gelato was born to an upper-middle class family in Minsk, Russia. The youngest of four boys, his parents had been hoping for a girl, and their resentment only grew when it became clear the young Gelato was both autistic and ADHD. He suffered from extreme emotional neglect.

When Gelato was 13, the family moved back to Italy where his mother was from. Though he preferred it here, the problems with his family continued and Gelato was eventually kicked out at just 17 years old.

Following the word of a friend, Gelato made his way to Naples and found work running an illegal bar for a street gang in exchange for a room to sleep in. The same gang, incidentally, that Sorbet was working for. The two first exchanged words when Gelato found Sorbet beating up a patron who had been abusive to him, and decided to join in. Within weeks, they were lovers.

One night, while Sorbet and Gelato were asleep upstairs, the police raided the bar. In a panic, Gelato shot two, and Sorbet took out a third. The fourth got away. Knowing they would be hunted, the pair begged refuge from their gang but were denied. They were not a powerful enough syndicate to deal with something of this size. And so, with only each other, Sorbet and Gelato fled Italy.

They were on the run for two years, passing through just about every country in Europe at least once. As a means of surviving, they took on assassination contracts from local gangs and became very skilled, but of course this only turned up the heat to catch them. Eventually, it got too much, and in a final desperate bid to avoid capture, the pair went back to Italy to plead their gang to reconsider.

What they found now in charge of Naples was not their gang, but Passione. A capo by the name of Pericolo listened to their story, and agreed eagerly to dissuade the police from pursuing them in exchange for their loyalty to the new gang. Sorbet and Gelato agreed at once, and developed stands soon after.

Formaggio

A Naples Boy through and through, Formaggio was born in the central city to a large, loving family. Owing to their poverty, all the aunts, grandparents and cousins lived in one house. Although many were part of the mafia, it was always stressed to the children they were under no obligation to choose such a life. Nonetheless, many of them still did.

One night, Formaggio’s eldest brother Miguel sneaked off from the house, telling nobody but Formaggio. His goal was to seek initiation into Passione. The young Formaggio pleaded to come as well, but was told he was not ready yet. Miguel returned a couple of hours later, carrying a metal arrowhead. He told his brother that something unexpected had happened, and he needed to go now, but it was vital Formaggio told nobody of this meeting. He promised it would all be worth it in the end.

Years passed, and Miguel did not return. Then one day- a hastily-written letter, addressed solely to Formaggio. In his final message, Miguel apologised for the absence and announced that he did not expect to survive the next few hours. However, if Formaggio wanted the answers to all that had transpired, all he needed to do was recover the arrowhead that he had last seen Miguel with all those years ago. Most likely, it would have been returned to where he found it, address enclosed. Saddened and eager to understand what had happened to his brother, Formaggio followed the instructions and broke into a heavily guarded warehouse. He found the arrow, just as Miguel had said, but failed to understand how this could solve his problems.

Formaggio looked for a way out of the warehouse, and was suddenly set upon by the guards. He ran for the exit and tripped, impaling himself on the arrow. Little Feet came forth at once, stunning the guards. Not wanting to deal with whatever that was, they called in Risotto and his newly built execution squad, based nearby, to deal with it.

Fortunately, the assassins’ skills were not needed. In spite of the circumstances Formaggio met the assassins with charm and cooperation. Risotto phoned his superiors to see if killing the man was really necessary, and they agreed it wasn’t, provided Formaggio became Risotto’s business. An agreement was reached, and Formaggio was inducted into the hitman squad. It would take two more members for Formaggio to piece together what had happened to his brother.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio was dealt an awful hand in life. Poor, and with parents that hated him, he had little respite as a child. He was autistic, but never diagnosed, and had visual impairments that were never addressed. His fondest memory was of a bizarre couple he met as a child, a dark-haired, dour man and his blond lover, who kept him company after his mother walked away from him in anger at a shopping mall. She came back, unfortunately.

When Ghiaccio was 15, a frantic knock sounded at his door while his parents were out. Answering it nervously, an equally frantic man stood on the other side brandishing an arrow-head. He introduced himself exhaustedly as Miguel and begged for shelter- he was being chased.

Before Ghiaccio could answer a squad of men burst onto the porch and attacked Miguel, dragging him out of view. Ghiaccio was thrown to the ground and told in no uncertain terms to speak of none of this to anyone. It wasn’t until later he realised the arrow had accidentally slashed him.

At that time, Ghiaccio’s soul was not fit to manifest a stand, but it was close. And so, Ghiaccio began to suffer the slow, agonising fate that some in his position fall victim to, his half-manifested stand slowly sucking the life from him. His parents didn’t even have the heart to call a doctor.

Two months into this agony, Ghiaccio heard something outside his room. His parents. They were talking about what to do if he died. He’d had enough. He snapped.

And so, Ghiaccio’s soul reached the point where it was strong enough to bare a stand fully, after having already partially manifested one. This unheard of situation created a stand with no physical form, but unspeakable power. A surge of ice broke out around the house without Ghiaccio even meaning it to, killing his parents at once. His sickness gone, Ghiaccio got up from the bed. What the hell had just happened?

Convinced he had lost his mind, Ghiaccio fled, but left a trail of unexplainable events behind him. Realising they were dealing with an unaccounted stand user, Passione had Ghiaccio hunted down and propositioned to join them. Terrified and with no other idea of what to do, he agreed. With a stand like this, there were only 2 options: La Squadra and La Unita. La Unita had no interest in an impulsive teenager, so Ghiaccio was sent at once to La Squadra.

The group was reluctant to house a teenage boy as an assassin, but took him in nonetheless. Formaggio was grateful for the crumbs of information Ghiaccio could give about the fate of his brother. Sorbet and Gelato couldn’t shake the feeling they’d seen the boy before somewhere.

Illuso

He was an only child. There was nothing particularly wrong with his relationship with his parents, but nothing particularly right either. There just… wasn’t a connection. They were a middle class family, well to do but nothing special. An arrogant boy, Illuso struggled to make friends, though he did become somewhat close with a boy in the year below him named Formaggio, for a short time.

When Illuso was 15, his parents came to him with a proposition. A distant relative of theirs was in possession of a large castle, but could not pay for its upkeep any more. The man had asked if Illuso would be interested in becoming a live-in caretaker, to be paid less than industry standards but still a lot by the standards of a 15 year old boy. Illuso agreed at once, and moved out of his parents home in a matter of days.

At the castle, his loneliness only grew. The place was closed to visitors and had no inhabitants apart from his new employer, who even then only lived in the castle 4 days a week. Illuso thought he was okay with this life, but the effect on his psyche was indisputable.

Then one day, the castle had a break-in. Illuso was accosted by a young man named Miguel, who had been squatting in the cellar for days and believed the castle was abandoned. The pair came to an understanding, and Miguel proposed that in exchange for his silence, he would give Illuso something amazing. He pricked him with the arrow.

Thrilled with his new power, Illuso agreed to keep Miguel’s existence a secret and the pair co-existed for many years. Illuso learned that Miguel had stolen the arrow from a gang named Passione, after discovering its power and making the decision to take it on impulse. Passione is still hunting him, hence the need to hide.

But eventually, they found him nonetheless. Illuso and Miguel tried their best to fight but it was an uneven battle. Miguel fled with the arrow, chased by one half of the attacking squad, leaving Illuso to deal with the other half.

But against all odds, Illuso survived, using his stand to eliminate the attackers one by one. Eventually the last attackers gave in and fled, The next people sent to confront Illuso came with a deal: join Passione, and all will be forgiven.

Despite his stand’s power, Illuso’s superiors disliked his attitude. After a few months of being thrown between teams, he was saddled with La Squadra.

Melone

The middle of three children, Melone was born to an upper-working class family in Florence. His parents were eccentric-academic sorts, who encouraged Melone and his sisters to act without regard for social convention. Though intelligent, Melone was never quite top of the class due to his inability to stay on task. Still, he got into a decent university and had plans to become a gynaecologist.

In his second year, Melone was approached by a poor couple seeking antenatal care for their pregnancy. As they explained, they were in a gang and could not go into public care for fear of their identities as criminals being discovered. They pleaded Melone for whatever rudimentary checks he could provide, just so they could have some assurance their baby was okay. Melone agreed, and met with the couple several times.

Over the course of the next year, Melone gave similar services to a couple more women who were recommended to go to him by the first patient. It was only a matter of time before the university discovered what he was doing, especially once he started stealing equipment to improve the quality of his examinations. Melone was expelled and referred to the police, but one of his patients got Passione to bribe away his charges. Unfortunately, this put him in their debt. Melone told his family he was simply going away for a while.

Melone languished around in Passione for a while. Though he did receive a stand, its lethal capabilities weren’t immediately clear, and so he remained in the lower ranks. His main respite was the bar scene, in which he got to mingle with many of Passione’s members from different squads. It was through here that he met Illuso, Formaggio and Ghiaccio of the execution team, and formed a friendship. Through them he even formed links with the group’s leader, Risotto.

The team were eager to help Melone advance to a better position, and aided him in exploring his stand. Eventually, he discovered how lethal baby face could truly be, outshining everyone’s expectations. Risotto was pleased to welcome him into the team.

Pesci

By the time Pesci was 13, it was clear his mother’s illness was terminal. Initially reluctant to involve him around the team, Prosciutto increasingly allowed Pesci to stay with them while his mother was at the hospital, since there was nowhere else for the young boy to go. As much as everyone tried to comfort him, he was terrified.

Two years later, it was clear Loreta was in her final weeks. Pesci dedicated as much time as he could to being with her, sleeping at her bedside more often than not. It was here that he first felt the strange occurrences begin. It would be subtle at first, the peculiar feeling of his mother’s heartbeat in his hands as he drifted off to sleep. It was comforting, then. It assured him his mother was still alive. Then, it got weirder, a long string extending from his fingers and into his mother’s chest. He thought he was just sleep deprived.

When the fateful day came and Loreta’s heart monitor stopped, Pesci felt a surge of panic. Desperate to find some proof this wasn’t really happening, his stand burst forth from his body and shot its hook into Loreta’s chest. Unfortunately, it was all for nothing. Loreta was dead.

As Pesci held the rod in his hands he realised this was far too real to be a hallucination. He could sense everything, the fading metabolism of his mother’s body and the vibrations in the floor. As the nurses confirmed the death, they could not see it. Why couldn’t they see it?

Prosciutto came into the room. With one look, Pesci knew that his brother could see the rod as well. He panicked and ran.

Prosciutto tried desperately over the next couple days to get in touch with Pesci. He knew exactly what had happened- clearly the boy had summoned a stand from the anguish of his mother’s death and had freaked out in confusion. That’s all completely understandable, but if Pesci isn’t informed of what his new power means soon, he could get himself into serious trouble. Especially if Passione found out.

And so, Prosciutto set off with Risotto to hunt Pesci down, eventually finding him at a run down park near his childhood home. Prosciutto comforted him and explained he knew what was happening, but if everything was going to be okay, he had to go with them.