#you can’t tell me this man doesn’t wander around shirtless in the mornings

[grey-gravy-art]

Ortega’s tits, what else can I say??

[buckyalpine]

Want You

18+ Minors dni 

Love this. This was literally in the works and then I see this request in the middle of me writing it, chefs kiss.  I love jealously, idk what’s wrong with me but it scratches an itch I cannot describe.

Warnings: FLUFF, pregnancy, Smuuttt (daddy kink, breeding kink,) angst if you squint but honestly not really. 

Word count: 1.6k

The best part is Sharon was so certain Bucky would never chose you. Bucky had a type and it wasn’t you so imagine her surprise when he’s completely smitten by you. And by surprised, I mean complete and utter denial.

She figured it’s just a phase, maybe Bucky is bored, wants to try something new and soon or later, he’ll come to his sense and dump you, it’s just a matter of time.

Except.

The way he is with you is unlike anything else. PDA galore and this is from the man who retches at physical touch.

Bucky’s hands are always on you and the more comfortable het gets, the friskier his touches become. He has you on his lap during movie night, one hand up your shirt, softly stroking your skin. His arms are wrapped around you, cuddling you to his chest like a teddy bear, not giving a shit what movie is on.

All he cares about is cuddling his girl in his arms at all times.

He gets pouty. Sharon nearly loses her shit when she sees how soft he is for you. You can’t even get up and get a drink of water without him trailing behind you or jutting his bottom lip out when you tell him he can stay, you’ll just take a sec.

“But I can come with you”

“Bucky I’m just going to the kitchen”

“I’m coming with you”

His head rests on your shoulder as you make yourself some tea, his eyes closed, arms around you waist, he truly doesn’t ever want to be anywhere else.

And the names. Any girl he’d been with before had only been referred to by name but with you?

“Good morning my baby”

“I missed you babygirl”

“Come cuddle with me bubba”

“How’s my babydoll”

“Where’s my baby” Sharon saw red the day he was going around looking for you, hardly realizing (nor giving a fuck) he didn’t use your name and just went around asking where his baby was. Everyone thought it was the absolute sweetest thing on the planet, love stuck Bucky, happily wandering looking for his babydoll (who was napping in his Henley on his bed). Sharon strongly disagreed.

All hell nearly breaks loose when she comes back from a temporary transfer. She figured Bucky’s infatuation would have died down by now. So imagine her surprise when she sees…

You were fast asleep on the couch, your back flush against his chest. Bucky nuzzled his face into your neck, his hand softly rubbing your little baby bump under your shirt. He couldn’t stop kissing you, giving you gently little kisses, careful not to wake you up while he caressed your tummy, he thought he was in love before but now it was in over drive.

Sharon considered quitting. Because it only gets worse.

You’re almost always in Bucky’s arms. He’s always carrying you. He won’t let your feet touch the ground, not when you’re having his baby. And fuck, he loves talking about it.

“I’m going to be a dad!”

“You think our baby will have super strength?”

“What do you mean I can’t get them a mini knife set”

He’s doting on you constantly, feeding you, rubbing your feet, kissing each of your toes before massaging up your calves. He never lets you shower alone, he’s always there to help you, making sure you don’t slip. He has you lay down on the soft sheets, grabbing your favourite lotion, his hands working in gentle circles, massaging it into your skin. He kisses your stretch marks, taking his time moisturizing your skin, his hands skimming over the little kicks; he loves feeling his little one move inside.

Sharon had a resignation letter ready (thought not submitted) after Bucky took his shirt off at the gym. He’d been shirtless plenty of times so she knew exactly what he looked like, memorizing every scar, and dip of his skin. So this was fucking new.

Bucky’s fists flew to the punching bag, his chest glistening with sweat, beading down his pecs, right over where he had your name tattooed, another tattoo dedicated to his little baby boy etched on his shoulder.

“Y-you got a tattoo?” She tried to give him a flirty smile, her hand coming to trace over the tattoo, her skin flushing in embarrassment when Bucky took a step back.

“Yeah” Bucky stuck to giving her one word answers, in utter disbelief she was still trying to make a move even after he’d had a baby with you.

“ Nice ink cyborg” Sam smirked, hoping to egg Sharon on, loving the way she angriliy huffed, trying to pretend she didn’t care.

“For my angels” Bucky smiled shyly, his cheeks blushing, this wouldn’t be the only piece he had for you.

Stop here if you just wanted some fluff. Continue if you want some spice.

Oh she doesn’t just over hear it. She saw it. It was her fault tbh.

You stayed back while the team had left for an international conference, leaving the entire compound free for just you and a certain super soldier. Sam’s sister had happily agreed to babysit for the weekend to give you both some alone time. And what a fucking time you had.

After learning Bucky wasn’t going, Sharon had managed to find a way to stay behind, figuring this would be the best time to get him alone, completely unaware that you were still at the compound. She did her makeup, throwing on a sheer dress and foregoing a bra, making her way down stairs…when she heard….the fuck?

The sounds of skin slapping on skin echoed through the hall from the kitchen, pornographic moans bouncing off the walls.

Her lips curled into a smirk, even if Bucky was fucking someone else, it was nice to know he wasn’t as loyal as everyone though. He clearly got bored of you, just waiting for the chance for you to leave before he could feel some type of satisfaction.

She crept down the hall, nearly collapsing, watching the both of you, stark naked, fucking on the kitchen counter. Bucky had thrown off all your clothes, bending you over the island, his palm pressing in between your shoulder blades, against the cold marble.

“Y-you like this, huh baby, you love daddy’s cock filling you up? Smile for the camera mama, lemme see that pretty little face”

Sharon felt light headed, noticing Bucky’s phone propped up, his hand coming to tug your hair, your eyes rolling all the way back. Bucky spanked you, causing you to cry out before coming down to kiss your shoulder, thrusting into you harder.

“Look at how fucked out you are baby, how you gonna handle my cum princess, already so fucking gone” Bucky groaned, his cock throbbing as you moaned, unable to formulate a coherent sentence.

“Gonna put another baby in you mama, fuck, can’t wait to see you pregnant again” Bucky’s balls felt heavy, slapping against your clit with each stroke.

“J-J-ames!” You cried out feeling the band tighten in your belly, your orgasam approaching you hard and fast.

“Mmm say my name doll, say my fucking name” He snarled, pulling his cock out, throwing you over his shoulder, moving to the dining table.

There’s no way…he wouldn’t actually…oh fuck. Sharon didn’t know why she didn’t just leave but she couldn’t look away as Bucky set up his phone again. He carefully crawled on top of you, right in the middle of the table (thank fuck for Stark technology, it was built to withstand just about anything), spreading your legs, slamming into you in a single stroke.

“Kinky little baby, wasn’t this your fantasy princess? For me to fuck you right on the dining table” Bucky let out a dark chuckle, brining your thighs up higher so he could hit a deeper angle. You nearly sobbed, your head thrown back against the table as he slammed into you, his hand cradling your head so you wouldn’t get hurt.

“James I-I’m gonna-

“I know mama, squeeze my cock baby, milk it, take my cum” Bucky moaned, nipping and biting your skin, leaving dark bruises in their wake. “There’s so much cum baby, gonna make such a mess all over the table”

“JAMES” You clawed at his back feeling his hand come down to play with your clit, his pace growing sloppy.

“Babygirl….m’gonna knock you up baby, you want daddy’s cum?”

“Wan’ daddy’s cum Bucky, wan’ it!” You whined and cried out, your walls spasming around him, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he started to fill you, his cum leaking out of you, dripping through your folds and onto the table.

“So. Much. Cum mama, its so fucking much” Bucky whimpered, his sensitive cock still throbbing in your silky walls. “Fuck, I love you” He grinned down at you, letting his body relax for a bit, as you played with his hair. He let his phone continue recording, he loved these moments just as much.

The whole compound was a mess. Bucky had spilled his cum into you in the gym, the showers, the balcony, the lab, the elevator, and finally in your room, under the covers, his hips slowly rolling against you, taking his time to savour your body.  

Sharon moves to a different department. But it didn’t help. Imagine her surprise when she sees Bucky’s arms full of babies, a little toddler on his shoulder, sleeping twins in both arms, with you by his side, your hand resting on your little baby bump.

Of course she’s still waiting for the day where he’ll lose interest.

And he never does.

Not on the day you got married.

Not on the day you had your fourth baby.

Not on the day you had your fifth.

Not today.

Not ever.

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed! (also this is an 18+ blog, I can’t tag nameless/ageless blogs)  

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987​ @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z  @elle14-blog1 @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth   @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen   @ashenc-blog   @buckybarnessimpp  @potatothots @goldylions   @high-functioning-lokipath  @morganemorgane @peaches1958 @kingfleury @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82   @gublur  

[stanknotstark]

Summary: Loki is a vampire and doesn’t appear in mirrors for that reason. You hit him with your car.

You’re stressed out and tired from the long day you had at work, or rather your old job since they decided to lay you off. So, when you get into your car, check all your mirrors, and back out fast because you don’t see anyone, you don’t expect to hear a thud and feel your car lurch. 

You gasp with wide eyes looking into your rearview mirror. You swallow the lump in your throat and nearly start crying. Today was not your day at all. 

You put the car in park and get out in a rush. Walking towards the back of the car you see a handsome man getting up. 

You hit a person. 

No one was in the mirror!

Where did he even come from? 

“I’m so sorry!” You say with tears falling down your face, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. 

The man looks at you quickly, a concerned frown marring his beautiful face as he rises. 

You take in his looks for a second. He has incredibly pale skin, thin pink lips, an acute nose, sharp cheekbones, and bright green eyes. 

“I am fine, you'd be surprised, it runs in the family.” The man says stepping near you, a hand raised but hesitating to touch you as you cry into your hand. You slightly frown at his remark but it's not enough to fully distract you.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and drop your hand. When you’re settled down enough you talk, looking at him.

“I’m sorry I’m having a really bad day. Are you ok? Do I need to call for an ambulance or anything?” You ask looking him over and seeing nothing wrong but you can never be sure. 

The man smirks, he makes a decision and settles his hand on your shoulder. 

“I am fine. Do not worry. I’m more concerned about you, darling.” 

You give a shaky laugh. “I just hit you with my car and you’re concerned about me? Your priorities are a little messed up I think.” You say as you wipe your tears away.

The man lets out a soft laugh that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. You just happen to see his pearly white teeth flash, two sharp canines but you think nothing of it. 

“Perhaps you can help me rearrange my priorities over a cup of coffee?” The man asks you.

You blush, look down at the ground nervous, but look back at him with a smile. “I would love that. What’s your name?” You ask. 

“Loki.” Loki tells you, letting his hand fall from your shoulder. 

You tell him your name and he says it as if getting used to it on his tongue. 

“Well, I know of a good cafe nearby we could meet at.” Loki tells you.

“Of course, I’ll follow you.” You tell him. 

You’re shocked as Loki grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“I cannot wait to learn more about who you are.” Loki whispers over your knuckles then releases your hand and makes his way to his car. 

You stand there with a smile on your face but quickly jump into your car to follow Loki.

The next time you realize you don’t see Loki in the mirror is months into dating the man. 

You’re at his house, which is sparse of mirrors for some reason. So you pull your compact mirror out and check your make up. 

You open you mouth to yell Loki’s name and turn around to walk to the door since you didn’t see him behind you. 

“Lok-” You grunt when you run straight into Loki’s chest and Loki grabs at your arms before you can fall backwards. Your mirror drops and splinters into shards on the floor.

You look up at Loki shocked. “I didn’t see you, I’m sorry.” 

Loki chuckles. “It is completely fine, darling. I shall buy you another mirror, my apologies.” 

The third time is when you truly notice. After the second time you decided to test your theory out without Loki knowing. It doesn’t go as planned but makes you realize something is wrong.

“Loki! I need a new mirror for my house can we go in here?” You ask as you both pass a Pier 1 Imports store. 

Loki looks at you with a small smile but his eyes try to hide some emotion you haven’t seen before. “You may go in, there’s a shop I need to go to before it closes, we can meet back at the car?” Loki says, leaning down to kiss you when you nod at him. 

You watch as Loki walks away from you and as he passes the mirrors in the store’s display windows you realize his figure doesn’t appear in them. It’s as if no one had walked by at all. You squint at him but go into the store and wander around for a bit thinking since you don’t actually need a mirror. 

There’s only one theory you know of that explains why he wouldn’t show up in mirrors. 

All of a sudden you snicker to yourself, you feel like Bella in Twilight. 

“I know what you are.” You say in a mocking voice and laugh. 

Then you become serious. If he was a vampire where does he get his blood from? How is he able to walk around in the sunlight? How old was he, truly? Why had he not told you yet? 

It’s a few weeks later when you confront Loki about your theory. 

You had given him time to tell you, even had a rousing discussion about vampires hoping maybe he’d tell you he was one, but no such luck. So you decide to bring it up and lay it on the table. 

“Loki, I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Care to fill me in on what it is?” You ask from across the table, lightly, as you both eat. 

Loki looks at you with a cute scrunch of his face in confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” He asks. 

“You have a secret. I’m assuming it’s something dark because you refuse to tell me no matter how many times I give you chances to tell me.” You say, stabbing a piece of chicken with your fork and only looking in Loki’s eyes when you begin chewing.

Loki looks at you with clouds in his eyes. You can see him fighting with himself about telling you. You raise your brow at him and he clears his throat, grabs his plate and stands.

“I believe I shall retire early tonight.” He says in a clipped tone and goes to put his plate up, not at all noticing the disappointment on your face, your shoulders sagging as you look at your food. 

You eat dinner in silence, finishing quickly and making your way to his living room to lay on the couch. 

You lay there for hours staring at nothing, thinking. You don’t notice you’ve dozed off until Loki is picking you up bridal style and bringing you to the bedroom. 

You make a sound as you wake up a bit to which Loki shushes you. 

As he lays you on the bed he rubs a hand over your head and hair, kissing your forehead and saying, “I shall explain everything in the morning, sweetheart.” 

You drift off a few minutes after he says this.

Come morning you notice you’re in one of Loki’s shirts, panties, and nothing else. Your clothes folded neatly and placed on a chair that resides in Loki’s room. Loki is nowhere to be seen. 

When you open his door to peak out of the hallway you smell breakfast. So, you head to the kitchen and find Loki cooking shirtless and in silk pants. 

When he turns to look at you he smiles softly, taking in your form in his clothes. 

“Good morning, darling.”

“Morning!” You quip, walking over to hug Loki from behind. He leans into your touch and sighs. 

When you’re both sitting at the dining room table eating he brings up the taboo topic. 

“I owe you an explanation.” Loki starts, putting down his utensil and rests his hands on the table. His eyes look at his food for a second before raising to meet yours. 

You sit back and wait.

“There is a reason you hit me with your car...” Loki starts a little unsure.

You stay silent. 

“My physical form does not appear in mirrors.” Loki says, his eyes wandering around the room.

He sighs then looks you in the eyes. 

“I’m a vampire.” He says roughly. 

Everything is silent for a few minutes, you hold his eyes the entire time but keep your face devoid of emotions. 

Loki opens his mouth to say something but you interject. “I know.” You say, going back to eating, glancing at what you’re about to eat, but look back at Loki who sits there in shock.

“What?” He asks a little breathlessly. 

“I know.” You state again, “I figured it out that day we were shopping and I told you I needed a new mirror?”

Loki squints at you. “You were testing me.”

You smile a little. “Ya.”

“You smart, little minx.” Loki says in a deep voice, a smirk on his lips. 

Then the smirk falls and he looks unsure of himself. 

“You are not afraid? Afraid that one day I might decide to kill you?” Loki asks carefully.

You frown as you chew on your food. You swallow it before answering. “No? Should I be?” 

“No.” 

“Well, case solved.” 

“Why are you taking this so lightly?” Loki finally asks with a frown.

You smile at him. “I’ve known my theory must be right for weeks now. I’ve had my time to question everything. You’ve never once lifted a finger at me or gave me reason to be scared of you. I do not see you doing it now just because I found out.” You admit. 

Loki hums, looking at you with a guarded look. “And what if I asked to have a taste of you?” 

You smirk at Loki. “I find the idea to leave me a bit bothered...in a good way.” You say the last part quickly. 

Loki chuckles, a hand coming up to rub over his face. “Darling, you said my priorities were skewed, however I think it has been yours all along.” 

You actually laugh at the memories of your first date with Loki. 

“Shut up, you can’t say the thought of drinking from me doesn’t turn on you on a little bit.” 

You smile wide when Loki’s pupils dilate a bit at your words. 

“Shall we, uh, test this out?” You ask shyly, setting your fork down and pushing a lock of your hair behind you ear, nervous.

Loki’s lips twitch and he looks confident again. He stands and holds out his hand for you to grab. When you do he is quick to lead you to his bedroom, both of you with a little pep in your walk, excited. 

[fluffyk97]

Basic backstories, setup and just few little things about Werewolf Cole Au. A synopsis if you will?

There's no elemental powers, Overlord, Zane isn't a nindroid, etc. Just basically a regular world with small real myths such as Werewolves.

Werewolf wolf forms aren't humanoid, but really are just big 6ft tall wolves.

Kai and Nya do live in a house near the woods and their parents were never kidnapped so they were raised by them. However they both are in a line of work that has them not home most of the time.

Kai & Nya found Lloyd on the streets being bullied from other kids. Kai immediately couldn't stand it and stepped in. When asked where Lloyd lived so they could take him, Lloyd said he didn't have one.

After a long video call later, and a quick visit by Maya, Lloyd was able to be adopted into their family and enroll in school under the name Lloyd Smith.

Kai is 20, Nya is 18, Lloyd is 14, Cole is 21, Jay is 18, Zane is 23, Pixal is 22, Skylor is 21. Excluding Cole till later, they're just a big friend group.

Kai is trying to find a good College to get into while working at Skylor and her Mother's small Noodle Shop. There is no Chen because I said so.

Skylor and Kai used to date in Highschool, but found to be better friends instead and now are just close friends.

Jay & Nya are in highschool Senior Year, and are together.

Zane & Pixal was friends with them in highschool, but now are in College together. Also a couple, and they love to visit when they can and video chat.

Lloyd is in Middle School. He's managed to make few friends there but his best friends are his adopted siblings, their friends, and his adopted cat, Meowthra.

Cole was childhood friends with Jay back in another town until one day him, his father and mother had to suddenly move out without a word to anyone. So to Jay, his childhood friend just one day disappeared.

There are Werewolf Hunters after them.

Cole gets his wolf side from Lily.

Lily doesn't pass away when he was younger, but is sick. Lou moves them to the Town where the gang are, hearing about how it's nice and close to some woods, good clean air, and he did some digging and saw nothing about Hunters being in the town because the Forest and its wildlife are supposed to be protected.

Cole is trying to figure out what to do for his mother and always goes out to the woods at night to let himself be a wolf, especially because he doesn't have complete control of his transformation like Lily.

Unfortunately Hunters did follow them.

The Hunters one day went to eat at the Noodle Shop and talked about going hunting in the Woods. Kai overheard, and he knows the Woods are not to be hunted in. Kai tried leaving a voicemail to Skylor but his phone unfortunately died mid message. He wasn't sneaky enough about it and the Hunters did notice.

At the end of his shift, locking up the Noodle Shop, Kai is jumped by the Hunters so they don't have a goody goody try and ruin their hunt.

Kai managed to get away and did run off into the woods, hoping to lead them off his tail, not find their way to his house, while also hoping to manage to get home through the woods.

Kai of course loses the Hunters, but unfortunately his ankle did get sprained pretty bad and he stops to sit against a tree once he's sure he's safe.

That's when Cole finds him after smelling some of his blood.

Kai never heard of any reports of wolves in the woods, especially none that are 6ft tall. So understandably, Kai freezes up in fear while also knowing he wouldn't get anywhere if he tried.

Cole approaches, luckily just have hunted something himself so Kai's blood doesn't affect his hunter instincts too much.

Cole slowly approaches Kai before licking his wounds. He turns Kai around and grabs him by the back of his jacket, carrying him off to his little den he set up for when he's out in the woods.

Kai freaks out and is about to yell before he hears the distant sound of a Jeep driving through the woods which leads him to shut up in fear its the hunters.

This also has Cole rush to the den.

The den is set up with a large bedroll, campfire and few other necessities because Cole goes to it when he's a human as well. It surprises Kai, but he doesn't complain when the big wolf sets him down and carries over a first aid kit.

Even after patching himself up, Kai still can't get up, but it seems the Wolf in front of him basically saved him and maybe has an owner. Plus, out of fear of running into the hunters, he decides okay he'll stay for the night.

Cole does notice Kai starts shivering when trying to sleep, so he goes over to offer some warmth. Kai while uneasy with a big wolf next to him, accepts it, not wanting to risk going against it and it is nice.

This leads to both of them falling asleep and Cole completely forgetting he's going to change back in the morning.

So Kai wakes up being hugged by this large shirtless man. His screaming wakes Cole up, leading him to screaming as well as the scramble to get apart.

The den is surprisingly close to Kai's house, so as Nya is about to head out on her bike to find out why Kai didn't come home last night, she hears him screaming in the woods.

After the screaming stops, Kai and Cole stare at each other. Kai in complete bewilderment, glancing around for that wolf from last night unaware it was Cole. Cole meanwhile is frozen, slapping himself mentally for some reason helping this random stranger as a wolf and not thinking about him turning back in the morning.

Nya calls out for Kai though, drawing his attention away from Cole and allowing him a moment to slip away.

Kai after realizing he was left alone, decides to get up, limping out of the den to call out to Nya.

Kai is brought home and his wounds are more properly treated. A call to Skylor to look out for the guys that jumped Kai and to let her know what's up.

Kai tells the story about the Wolf. Lloyd gets excited wanting to find a big nice Wolf himself, but Nya quickly dismisses it to it most likely just being a dream passing out in the woods. Hoping to delude Lloyd from going and searching the woods for said Wolf, while also not believing it herself.

Kai is basically forced to stay home till they know the Hunters aren't going to go after him again, and to heal up his ankle.

Kai keeps thinking about that night while during his little house arrest, and even dreams of the man he woke up next to, turning into the 6ft Wolf that helped him.

One night when he's okay to walk again and Nya is at Jay's house with Lloyd to help him study, and for a little sleepover, Kai sneaks out back to the woods, finding the den again and hopes to come across the Wolf again.

Cole wanders in as a wolf and freezes noticing Kai waiting for him. He was no different from Kai, constantly thinking about the other in numerous ways since their encounter.

Cole unfortunately wasn't so prepared for another meeting and turns to run away, but finds himself freezing when Kai cries out "Wait!"

Kai slowly approaches Cole.

"You can understand me, can't you?" Cole looks Kai in the eyes and nods to Kai's slight surprise.

"Are you that guy I woke up next to?" Cole whines in response, in fear of Kai knowing.

"It's okay! I... well its little weird to think about, but... wow I was actually right? Haha, I don't know how to feel about this, but I won't go ratting you out don't worry!" Cole's ears perk up in surprise.

That's when the familiar sound of a Jeep reaches both their ears. Smelling the air, Cole whines, recognizing the smell of Hunters, moving to turn and run again, but Kai stops him again.

Kai offers and brings Cole back to his house to help hide him. Cole feels like he should reject, and not trust so easily, but he finds himself following Kai easily.

That's when Kai walks in with Cole, ducking through the back door and see Nya and Lloyd who just got home because the sleep over got cancelled.

After a lot of panic and explaining later, Nya agrees to help out Cole, wanting more explaining from him if Kai saying him turning into a human is true.

Lloyd is very excited to see such a big wolf and starts talking to Cole a lot. It surprises Cole, but he also finds it enjoyable to see a kid so excited to actually see him like this after growing up and being told by Lou he should never show his secret to anyone.

Lloyd does bring Meowthra to Cole, and while Kai and Nya were expecting the usual Cat vs Dog or this case, Wolf, Meowthra surprisingly really likes Cole and they get along fine.

Lloyd helps Kai give food to Cole once they hear the wolf's tummy growl.

The next morning, Cole wakes up in the living room as human and he does explain what he is. Pleading for the trio of siblings to not say anything, especially after he smelled Hunters and learned they're the ones who hurt Kai. They of course agree to the promise.

This starts the cycle of Cole coming over some nights as a Wolf and staying the night.

Cole is excited to talk to people again after being on the run and being hidden for so long and a nice distraction from worrying about his mother.

Kai finds himself wanting to spend more and more time with Cole until he realizes he's actually falling in love with a werewolf.

Overtime the rest of the friend group also accidentally learn about Cole but agree to keep the secret. Jay especially being really happy to see his childhood friend again and getting an explanation why he disappeared so long ago.

Kai find himself talking a lot about Cole to his siblings and Skylor. Cole does the same to Jay about Kai.

Of course they do confess at some point. Or basically forced to by everyone.

Cole keeps all this a secret from Lou because his father has grown to always have a constant worry of his son and wife being hurt because their Wolf sides. He talks to Lily about everyone though when he thinks she's asleep, but she does hear it all and is happy to hear her son is happy. She doesn't tell Lou until Cole is ready.

Cole is a clingly bf when him and Kai are together, being very touch starved from only having his mom & dad for so long. Kai loves attention, so it works out perfectly.

Cole as a wolf will sometimes just pick up Kai to bring him t lay down with and enjoy cuddles. When human, he loves to come up from behind for a hug.

Kai brought Cole to work one day and Cole fell in love with the food there ofc.

When Cole first ate cake around the others, he was a wolf and they did immediately get scared with mindset of chocolate bad for dogs. Morning came and Cole reassured he was fine and is still okay to eat anything he can as a human, as a wolf.

Cole does still struggle with gaining control of his transformation but that mainly affects to him turning into a wolf every night. Lily can turn into a wolf anytime she wants.

However sometimes Cole finds himself losing to his wolf instincts and needs to hunt or gets hostile.

First time Cole loses himself as a wolf he is hostile, but Kai slowly approaches him, treating it like he would for Lloyd when he has panic attacks, and brings Cole out of it. Mostly succeeding to get close because Cole smells his own scent on Kai.

They all do try and pitch in to find a way to help Lily, and stop the Hunters.

[beigehearts]

The Price of Self Respect

this is part one of a series of yandere chrollo x fem!reader. this story will contain explicit content. Warnings at the beginning of the chapter. Please send me requests if you wish to for hxh characters and scenarios! ❤

PART I Read part two here!  CW: mentions of death, murder, and gore 1,730 words

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It had been many days since you had received an assignment as a hunter. At this point you would have taken a request to open a pickle jar. You had an agent who sourced your jobs through to you that way no one could know your identity. Your agent barely knows your identity outside of your phone number. While you are no where near as infamous as the Zoldyck Family- you definitely are not unknown. “The Creator” is what most people would refer to you as- quite fitting for your ability. Specialists are not as scarce as people make them out to be; a specialist who utilizes their ability as best as they can is scarce. You conjure a pencil, and you can draw anything into existence. Your nen concentrates in your hand and you can create life (or at least a husk of life). Drawing animals or weapons, even humans (who aren’t quite sentient) earned you your high respect as a hunter.

You gaze out of the window at the quiet streets of a city you’ve never travelled to. While the hotel is large and towers over the town, it is probably the biggest building for miles. Bzzzz. You turn towards your bed and see your phone screen is lit up. Picking up the phone you see a single message from the only saved number on your phone.  York New. 14:00. 1278 Pearl Street. G Watanabe- Room 207.  You scroll down to see the status of the person. Alive. Wanted Dead. 7 Days. Employer ---

A smile graced your lips knowing that you finally have a job. While town hopping and sight seeing for the past few weeks was a nice rst, you can’t just halt your income. You enjoy your job anyway so the money is a bonus. Ill pack in the morning you think to yourself, once you land in York New you may have some extra time to research your target. 

The plane ride was smooth and quite comforting- you paid for first class. While you could use your hunter card to be priority seating, it leaves a trace of where you’ve been. Plus, you’ll be getting paid soon enough and the 12 hour plane ride in first class would be nothing compared to the fat check that would be wired to your account. Murder is expensive you know. 

Stepping out of the taxi, the driver gets out and opens the trunk for you. You grab your one small backpack filled with nothing but snacks- drawn snacks are not particularly tasty. Just because you can create it doesn’t mean it’s true to the real deal. You jog towards the doors, fat rain drops assaulting you meanwhile. You get your room key under for the room you reserved under an alias and make your way to the elevator. You press the button to go up and when the elevator reaches your floor it sounds a satisfying ‘ding’ and the doors open almost soundlessly. You stepped into the confined space and to your surprise a man steps in with you. You hadn’t even sensed him nearby, it seemed as if he just popped into reality. 

He’s tall, is the first thing you think when you look at him. Not necessarily tall as in feet wise (though he definitely had quite a few inches on you) but his aura and the way he carried himself made it seem as if he towered you. The corner of his lips turn upwards and suddenly he doesn’t seem so intimidating. It’s as if he was dragged back down to earth. 

“Good morning, awful weather it seems.” The man says with a chuckle. You take a moment to drink in all of him. His black hair is somewhat messy, a middle part with water dripping down a few strands. A bandage is wrapped around his forehead and you wonder if it’s an injury or a fashion statement. A large fur coat cover most of his body, you’re only able to capture a glimpse of a white button up shirt at his neck. 

“Terrible. My flight almost had an emergency landing.” You groan, recalling your annoyance when the captain announced this over the speakers.

“Ah so you just got in today? I got into York New about a week ago. What are you here for?” 

Your eyes travel to his and you notice that they’re unusually large while seeming to only make him more attractive. “I’m on a work trip, though I shouldn’t be here long.”  His lips stretch a little further into something of a grin, “What a coincidence, I’m here on business as well.” 

The elevator dings and you give a quick goodbye, not necessarily because you didn’t like talking to him but because you wanted to take a nice warm shower. You sashay out of the elevator, and the back of your neck tingles, you can tell that his eyes are boring into your back.

You drop your bag onto your bed and wander over to the mirror. Looking at you in the mirror is yourself. Though you never seem to recognize this person as you. You pose in different angles but can’t find one that makes you like yourself. You grab the chub of your stomach and groan hopelessly. A world renown hunter who has killed the unkillable is staring at herself in the mirror and grimacing. You remind yourself that you’re one of the strongest specialists out there and you shouldn’t be critiquing yourself. 

A day passed and your deadline is growing nearer. You draw your outfit for the day, and put on the jeans, hoodie, and heels that were super comfortable thanks to your nen. An assassin has to look good as well as kill. Your rented car waits for you in the hotel garage and when you finally make your way down there, you do a onceover of the car. There are no signs of foul play, tracking, or marking so you hop into the drivers seat comfortably. Once the car is started your phone buzzes. 

+ $2000 to your account message attached: get his pass for the auction and send it to client

You nod to yourself, you had completely forgotten about the auction. Of course you were supposed to kill a member of the mafia during the auction. How could you not have made that connection. While you are intelligent, you wouldn’t say you’re smart. Once you arrive at the hotel your target is staying at, you book a room despite the fact you will not be using it for long. In the hotel room you draw a dress that makes you look like a model, all you need is to look good and your nen for this mission, this goes for most missions.

Each minute on the clock seems to last hours, you need to leave at 01:30, in order to complete your mission at 2. This is the part you hate the most, laying on the hotel bed listening to the clock tick and tick and tick. It feels almost like the clock is mocking you, and sometimes you want to just break it. Though despite this you lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting down every minute until the clock strikes 1:30. 

The last mocking tick sound rings and you get up quickly. Walking confidently out of the room and down the large and foolishly elegant hall. You make your way to the elevators where you had a run in with that man and go down to the second floor seeing as you were residing on the fourteenth. The second floor was reserved for the mafia only, many families used this hotel to be near the auction. 

The elevator opens up and you examine the hall. It is much different than the one where your room is. Lights are dimmer and the color pallet of the hall was that of red and black where as yours was blue and white. You step out onto the marble floors and your heels click against the cold surface. Something’s not right. Something is very wrong, very out of place. You can smell it. The smell of blood. 

207 is closer to the end of the hallway than it is to the elevators. The lights are completely off at the end of the hallway as well. With each step towards the room of your target the lights get dimmer until there is no light. You halt and look at the room with gold numbers on it stating ‘207′. The door is cracked and you approach it cautiously. You push the door open and see your target laying on the ground in hundreds of pieces, it’s a bloody mess.

A man stands in front of the window that is the entire wall, his form dark. Now the only sound present is that of the rain pounding against the glass of the window. He turns towards you, and you quickly recognize the large fur jacket. It’s the man from the elevator, his coat is open and he’s shirtless, but covered in blood. His forehead is uncovered by the bandage that was on him previously, revealing a purple cross. His demeanor is still friendly and inviting but something is different about his eyes. 

He smiles and for some reason you feel drawn to him, so you take a step forward. “I’ve been waiting y/n.” 

You swallow any sense of fear you have and nod, “Oh you have?” 

“Of course, I thought I would make your job easier for you.” He chuckles just like he did in the elevator, as if he didn’t just commit an atrocity. But who are you to judge? “Don’t worry, I’ll still be paying you every jenny of what was promised.” 

Your head cocks to the side “So you’re my client?” He nods in response. 

“And I got his pass to the auction so I would say you did a pretty good job of completing your mission.” He waves the pass at you as proof. 

“Can I have the pleasure of knowing your name since you know mine?” You question.

He nods again, “Chrollo is my name. You were commissioned by the spiders.” 

The spiders... It quickly clicks in your head. The phantom troupe. Which means, in front of you stands the leader of the Phantom Troupe.

“It’s nice to meet you Chrollo.” 

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 18

18 + only (sub reader/bucky, dom zemo, first time m/m, collars/leash kink, and more please see masterlist for full warnings)

Warnings and summary - Masterlist

The directions were simple

“Go into the bedroom, you may help one another, and when you’re done getting ready, wait for me on the bed. The collars are in the bottom drawer…”

Bucky follows you, his hands wandering; stroking your hair, your back, your neck. He’s never going to be able to follow rule three if he keeps this up. You laugh swatting his hand away, trying to avoid his touch as you open the door to the bedroom.

Inside, he watches as you go to the closet and find the items just as Zemo said you would.

“How do we know which are which?” He asks from the bed.

You turn and grin holding them up.

His is thicker, heavier, and you wonder if these were in the crate Oeznik did not open.

“Me first?” You offer going to him.

“Sure” He says and watches you pull your tank top off over your head and toss it onto one of the plush chairs in the room. Bucky surprises you and finds the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down easily. He tugs the silk organza off your hips with a cocky smile as the fabric falls, giving you a little wink that makes you roll your eyes, giggling with your tongue between your teeth. Oh fuck it—your underwear comes sliding down your thighs too— no use pretending this won’t escalate quickly.

“Come closer.” He says and you stand between his legs.

He’s breathing hard already, his eyes bright with the excitement.

You look him over thinking about how beautiful he is. This is an established fact stated so many times it doesn’t need to be said. But you can’t stop looking at him tonight and you know it’s because you’ve lived with and loved him for more than a year now. The many connections between you run deep and now you’ll share in this singular experience with him. You feel… special.

Does he feel hesitant, you wonder eyeing his profile. You did the first time you ever had sex and you desperately want him to know that every time he’s ever tried to play the hero to you, tonight you will be his should he need it— but James is a lucky man. Zemo actually loves  him. He won’t find himself under some greasy haired, overly perfumed son of a Low Town gangster who thinks he’s hot shit. You hold in a laugh at the memory of your “first” and his sad, selfish attempts to satisfy you.

Watching Bucky from the corner of your eye, you raise your chin and keep close so he can gather the leather around the back of your neck. He buckles it easily, and you feel that familiar sensation of your body waking up. The clink of the metal, the touch of the leather, your nipples perk, you feel the slippery response between your legs— it’s all nice but you want to focus on him and you hope your desire to care for Bucky as he would you shows through in your own movements.

Pressing the center of the strap to his strong neck, you pull one side and then the other, pausing to kiss his jaw, nipping at his ear, you make him practically giggle involuntarily. He tucks his ear to his shoulder, leaning away from you. You smile and loop the ends, finding the perfect notch. “How’s that?” You ask softly, running your fingers back around and down his neck.

His eyes close as he smiles. “Good. A little tight, but— I like it.” How the tides have turned you think, remembering the first time he ever heard those words from you when he reluctantly fastened you into your restraints.

Your smile matches his as you stroke his scruffy cheek. “Perfect” You quickly unbutton his shirt and smooth your hands under the lapels sliding it off his shoulders and in doing so actually catch a glimpse of a metal loop you hadn’t noticed on the back of the collar at first. “Oh wait. I think there’s more.” You say realizing what that other thing was in the drawer. “Hang on.” You tell him, leaving Bucky shirtless on the bed.

“What is it?” He asks as you go back to the closet and open the bottom drawer. You don’t answer but when you return with a matching leash he tilts his head —a little like Zemo does— looking slightly suspicious.

“This is meant to clip on.” You say wondering how he’ll respond.

Bucky’s eyes go wide for a second. He pushes his palms to his thighs letting this layer of information settle as he leans in and chuckles shaking his head. “He thinks I’m dog now?” He inquires with a brow raised high. He sounds ever so slightly disturbed.

You snicker sweetly “Hush.” You say and go to him. You lean around and clip it on, feeling his hands on your ass as you smooth the length of it out. The leash is long, but not overly done. It’s the perfect length for Zemo to wrap around his hand once and really get a tight grip. “More like, a puppy. A good boy.” You tease trying not to laugh too hard.

Bucky’s look of outrage does it and you can’t hold the laughter in. Still grinning you try to soothe the sting. “Im sorry, I’m only teasing. You’re a very grown man with very large muscles who could probably crush everyone on this ship if he wanted. You’re very scary and we all fear you.”

“Oh ha ha. You’re so funny,”

“Aw, okay I’m sorry. Really.” You say meaning it.

He glances up and you can tell he’s not really mad, you’ve teased him about looking like the least intimidating killer before, which truth be told is something you probably shouldn’t joke about given the hurt he’s caused but it was never his choice. “Listen.” You say and lay your hands on his chest. “I think he made it very clear how he feels about you James.” You say his name so he knows you’re not playing anymore and it works like it always does.

Bucky looks up at you, studying your face for a second or two before he breaks, and looks away flashing the widest smile.

“By the way. When did you tell him? How you feel I mean.”

He thinks back as if he can’t remember. “This morning.” He says a little awkwardly.

So that explains why he was acting so off and sort of fidgety all day, and why Zemo has been so quiet. “And he clearly didn’t say it back.”

Bucky looks down as though he still feels the sting of rejection. “It was —not good. We were on the top deck laughing about something and I just, well I went for it. I looked him in the eyes, I held his hand and told him. He just stared at me. Eventually he said something like thank you, I think, I dunno, I sort of blacked out a little.” He says looking towards the windows “He said he needed to “attend to something” and walked away. He kissed me first though” He says with a sad laugh.

“And you’ve just been acting like nothing happened all day?” You hate that he’s kept it to himself, what an awful thing to suffer through; then again, it is Bucky. He’s known worse.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Tell me?”

“Why so you could make it a thing?”

“Well yeah?”

“I’m not a kid.” He says your name and you back down a little “I’m a grown man. I’ve had my heart broken”

“And put back together.” You remind him.

His eyes dart up to meet yours and slowly his smile returns. You know he’s thinking about the dance and the beautiful moment that followed. “Yeah. Turns out he wasn’t as ready as you thought he would be. But it didn’t take long.” He says sounding a little smug.

“I never had a doubt about Helmut’s love for you. I wouldn’t have wanted you to come with me if I weren’t sure. So,” You gently pull the strap around letting him see, “when it comes to things like this you just have to be honest. He trusts that you will, that we will. If you don’t want the leash James, don’t have it. Never be too proud to say no.”

He’s listening and you can see him actually thinking about it. Probably assessing his boundaries and weighing them against his love for Helmut and his level of comfort. He’s not used to this feeling, you can tell. He’s so physically strong, there are times he probably feels invincible. He’s certainly not used to being intimidated by the idea of the unknown. But tonight you suppose it’s more than that. “Are you sure you want this?” You ask wondering.

Bucky leans back surprised by the question. “More than anything.” He says without hesitation. You exhale the breath you’re holding feeling elated for tonight to become the start of so much more.

“You look beautiful by the way, you have all night.” He says softly “I meant to say so earlier.”

Damn it Barnes.

Your lips meet in a soft kiss and you lean against his chest feeling small in the warm space between his legs as his hands slowly glide across your back holding you so close…

The bedroom door opens and you part.

Turning in Bucky’s arms you’re fully aware that together you must paint the prettiest picture. The way Zemo gazes across the room at the two of you, this notion is quickly confirmed.

He has to stop in the doorway and just take it in. You’ve never seen him at a loss like this before. But you’re standing naked wearing the collar he chose for you with your arms around the man he thought he would never have, now in his own soft black leather restraint and that leash held loose in your hand.

You slide it up slowly over Bucky’s bare chest letting it drag across his skin and he closes his eyes against the rousing tickle until it falls over his back. You know damn well what you’re doing as you look back at the Baron with big, innocent eyes.

“Get up.” Zemo says, his already rough voice gone deep like it does when he’s ready to destroy you both.

Bucky gently moves you aside and stands.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

You stand beside Bucky watching him strip.

“And why are you still standing?” Zemo asks the second Bucky is finished, as if it’s laughable that either of you should think to do anything other than kneel before him. Funny though, he doesn’t have say it again before you’re both on your knees.

“Safe words” Zemo says unbuttoning his shirt as he comes closer.

“Rapunzel.”

“Streusel”

“Songs” He says, undoing his pants, slipping them down and off.

“Anything from the sound of music.”

“Penny’s from heaven.”

“Colors James?”

“Red means stop, yellow means slow,” Bucky’s breath catches and you glance over to find the Baron pulling his head back by the hair just a little “Green— means go.”

Zemo slowly reaches with his other hand and grips the leash letting go of Bucky’s hair, but he keeps him in this back bent position as he trails his fingers down over Bucky’s face and traces his lips, lowering to kiss him before letting go of the leather strip. Bucky’s soft moan as he melts into the kiss makes the deepest center of your belly quiver as you take a stuttered breath in.

Zemo holds his face in both hands now, the tip of his nose grazing over Bucky’s, his lips gently kissing his closed eyelids and his forehead before leaving him.

Moving silently Zemo comes to you so quickly you hardly have time to catch your breath before his mouth closes in and your eyes roll shut as his tongue finds yours with ease. It is an unexpectedly calm kiss that makes your skin tingle. He knows that when he kisses you like this, you feel both his affection for you and completely overpowered; so much so that you do nothing but submit to whatever it is he wants. He licks the crest of your top lip, presses a soft kiss to you again moaning very quietly and smiles at you.

“Sweet girl… you taste like James tonight. Have you been kissing him?”

“Only a little.”

He laughs “It’s all right. I like it.” He lifts your chin holding onto your jaw as he smooths his hand onto the top of your head, keeping it there. He sighs deep in his chest, and you look up at him waiting, wondering if he will show you his gentle side…

He sighs and smiles at you shaking his head just a little “You do like to tease me don’t you?” He clicks his tongue with a disapproving tsk-tsk. “Oh, I will enjoy this.” He pets your head and you watch the way he looks you over; naked, on your knees, willing to be his completely and there is the most beautiful darkness in his kind eyes.

You swallow feeling your throat resist the collar. You want to smile but you’re a little afraid of what he means and you know better than to assume.

“James.” He says looking over, with you still held close in this slightly awkward position.

“Yes Baron.”

“Go to the center of the room, sit and wait.”

“Yes Baron,” He says and gets up leaving your line of sight.

His grip on your face tightens. “Beautiful girl.” Zemo says looking back down at you, his eyes wild like they were before he was sent away, “Forgive me. I will enjoy this…”

**

Bucky never looks away from your punishments anymore. Now he watches with a jealous sort of lust that makes it all the better.

His eyes are fixed on you as he waits from his place in the center of the room and you are momentarily distracted by him which is nice because you need a break from the pain.

“You do like to tease, don’t you.” Zemo says circling you slowly. He sighs pretending to feel sorry for you.

Your fingers are interlaced on top of your head and you don’t dare put them down again after he gave your palms a slap with the leather— how silly that you hadn’t considered that the leash could be used against you. Now you’re here paying for underestimating Zemo and your earlier actions.

Your lips and eyes shut tight but you manage to open you mouth and answer him. “Yes Baron.”

“I know.” He says, his tone all too cool. He steps in front of you again and you wait breathing fast knowing that it’s coming.

That thin leash strikes the tops of your thighs licking your skin with the heat of fire and you hold in your cries, looking across the room at Bucky whose narrowed gaze shows some ounce of sympathy, but mostly you see how badly he wants to get up, push Zemo out of the way and fuck you.

When the next few strikes criss cross your thighs in a pattern of pain you give in, unable to take more and sink down onto your heels, your shaking breath nearly turning to tears.

Zemo stops and comes over pulling you back up onto your knees by your elbows. “Look at me.”

You won’t

“Look at me.”

You open your eyes but you hate him right now.

“Don’t tease.” He says shaking his head. He smiles and kisses your cheek, ignoring your angry face. “But, I have to admit, you are an incredible dancer. Next time, let me touch the parts I like most, yes?” He asks tweaking the tip of your nose.

You roll your eyes but quickly mumble. “Yes Baron”

He laughs a little and kisses your forehead. “So feisty tonight,” He says petting your head. “Should we continue until I’ve whipped it out of you?” He asks, standing with the leash dangling in his hand, both the front and backs of your thighs stinging.

“No! I’m sorry.” You insist while thinking back to how you shook your ass in the lounge and how you can’t wait to do it again. Maybe next time you’ll be able to take more of the consequences…

He smiles stroking your face.

“Fine.” He gazes down at you for a little while until you calm and eventually his hand feels as good on your skin as it ever has. “James.” He calls.

“Yes Baron.”

Zemo walks over going around behind Bucky and clips the leash back onto his collar, the sound is soft but chilling. You see the way Bucky’s eyes close and his muscles tense. “Come, let’s make her feel better. I think she’s learned her lesson enough for tonight.”

Both their eyes are on you.

You watch Zemo take that leash in hand and wrap it around his palm closing it in his fist like you knew he would, but you’re curious if he’ll actually take the next step, so you wait holding your breath. Sure enough, as he orders you to lay on your back with your legs spread, Zemo pulls Bucky along making him cross the short distance on all fours.

Holy shit…

“I want to hear her say your name.” Zemo says as Bucky lowers “I want you to make her come like you did while I was away.”

Bucky does not hesitate and your entire body responds to the warmth of his mouth closing in on you. Your toes curl to points, your knees bend boxing him in, your back arches high letting your chin lift until the top of your head is nearly touching the floor.

He licks up the center of your divide parting your lips to circle your entrance quickly, you can hear and feel his arousal as soft, muffled moaning against your wet center and when he slides his hands under your ass and raises you up like a plate to be licked clean you nearly scream.

As he finds a good rhythm it does begin to feel just like New York. Bucky always loved burrying his face between your legs for as long as you wanted him to, there was never a rush, never any pressure to hurry, just this sort of lazy enjoyment that consumed you both.

Helmuts voice sounds very distant as he asks, “Does it feel good?” He already knows.

“Yes” You sigh feeling relaxed after a while, Bucky’s fingers press into the fleshy parts of your backside and you smile.

The sharp crack of leather on skin makes you jump and your eyes fly open. Bucky gives a surprised but subdued yelp that gets lost against you.

Helmut doesn’t want you relaxed, he wants you screaming.

You’re dropped to the floor and the flicking of Bucky’s tongue becomes a heavy, more determined effort, amplified by the way he moans as Zemo takes a knee behind him and directs his attention to parts of the soldier’s body that you can’t see.

So it’s like that tonight.

It might be out of your line of sight, but you can imagine what’s happening based on the lovely sounds Bucky is making; all those deep moans laced with a hint of pain and you open your eyes gasping as he vigorously begins to suck your clitoris.

From the throws of your rising orgasm, you sense eyes on you and manage to look. Helmut is watching, left hand down busy with Bucky between the two of you.

“Let go, don’t hold back.” He says looking in your eyes as you pant. “I like to see it. I like to see the way you nearly cry when he makes your thighs shake and you say his name when you look at me.”

When you moan it’s the sort that you’re not in control of, it’s a response to the things Zemo is saying to you, a reflex that grips and holds as tight as your collar.

His right hand glides across the horizon of Bucky’s raised ass, the leash rolling along with it and you toss your head back and flex every muscle as Barnes puts his all into devouring your pussy.

His head moves up and down as he works his tongue, but it is the sight of that single, otherwise innocuous bit of black leather held by the man in control of it all that sends you over the edge.

“Would you like to come?” He asks his favorite question.

“Please,” You beg.

He pulls the leash; you feel the loss of pressure which is maddening. That smug little smile on Zemo’s mouth making it both better and worse.

“Please Baron.”

“Did you ever think of me when he fucked you?” He asks suddenly curious. "When he licked you like he is now?”

“Sometimes,” You confess still breathless.

Zemo frowns and pulls the leash harder. The muscle of his arm flexes and you hate him when he denies you a climax but he looks so good doing it. Bucky rises up to sitting to stop from being choked.

On even level with Bucky now, Zemo reaches around to grab his wet chin. “You were a good substitute soldat I’ll give you that much… she does seem ready to come, what do you think?”

Bucky gazes down at you licking his lips slowly—tasting, you, smelling you— he’s happier than he’s letting on and you know he’s just thankful for the permission to have your legs wrapped around his neck again. A hint of his own dominance flickers in his eyes. He stares at you with your thighs parted for him, moaning softly as they rock open and shut from wanting more. “Yes Baron. She does.” He says and the way they look, towering over you together with Zemo like a dark shadow behind the tightly wound power of Bucky; you bite your lip and swallow hard so ready to be devoured.

“Go on, finish her off,” Zemo says and gives him the slack needed. He pushes Bucky back down and the wonderfully obedient Sergeant dives back in.

The pause only makes the continuation better and when you see Zemo reach between Bucky’s legs again, you feel, not hear Bucky’s response as a deep, heavy moan that vibrates against you.

Your orgasm is nearly instant.

The rhythmic pressure rises until its inescapable; your voice goes high and your body jerks once with the perfect shock of pleasure, holding tight until you melt into the pulsing release, moaning again and again, thrusting against his face until you are shaking and yes, in the end you say his name. Just as your Baron wants. You breathe it, gasp it, reach and pull his hair, shoving his face deeper into the throbbing result of his skilled tongue as you smile “James” You sigh releasing him as you sink to the floor with a shiver so happy to have said it.

In the dizzying afterglow — your arm draped over your eyes, your breath shallow, your legs completely useless— you keep your eyes closed until their sloppy kiss breaks the silence.

“And now, you taste like her” Helmut says with a soft laugh against him, followed by the distinct sound Bucky makes when anyone touches him, especially on the underside of his shaft where he’s so sensitive it’s almost cruel— you really do love that sound.

From under lazy half open eyelids, you watch the smooth motion of Zemo’s hand stroking Bucky a few times. His smiling approval has a warm humming tone as the solider grows harder in his hand, and then Zemo kisses Bucky’s cheek, gets up and leaves him throbbing.

You just close your eyes again, still feeling so high.

Helmuts return rouses you and when you manage to open your eyes it’s just in time to see the blindfold come down covering Buckys’.

He goes stiff, alerted and resistant for a moment, but Helmut is there whispering to him in Sokovian to calm him like one would a prize stallion. He takes a knee behind Bucky and gently slides the elastic band further down around the back of his head.

With a look of lust and wonder at the man he gets to have, Helmut smiles and smooths his hands down both of Bucky’s shoulders, kissing the metal one as he slips his hand through the space between his arm and waist to lay it flat against Bucky’s stomach pulling him close.

“Can you feel how hard you make me?” His deep voice sounds needy in Bucky’s ear.

You sit up a bit, somewhat recovered from your climax and watch the way Bucky’s pretty mouth opens, how he doesn’t know what to say, how his powerful form looks both stronger in his bondage and yet so ready to submit.

“Answer me.”

“Yes Baron.” He says, barely audible.

“Are you afraid of this? Of me?”

“No…”

“Good” His eyes peer down at you in the dark “Come” He motions with his free hand, two fingers like he does inside of you, “Take him to the bed.”

You stand slowly, accepting Bucky’s leash, raising it high as it can only be done from the back and pull him up. For a moment you feel every ounce of control and power that Zemo must, then you take his hand and lead the man along.

“We’re at the bed” You say and lay his hand down letting him feel it. Bucky’s not so timid as you might be without your sight and you’ve been in his position many times before, but you can feel him being careful as he follows you onto the cool bedding.

“On your back” Zemo tells you not far behind.

You crawl up to the pillows and turn over.

“Legs open, he’ll find you.” Zemo says with confidence in Bucky.

“Go to her James.” He says, his eyes flitting from you to Bucky’s profile and along the length of his beautiful form.

For a second you don’t think he will, but he does in fact make his way to you and quite easily. Super heroes— you grin and roll your eyes. Bucky finds your foot and you flinch, giggling from the tickle. He smiles too and gently grabs your ankle, smoothing his hand up to your knee, his fingers reaching and then closing over the curve as he waits to be told what to do with his head tilted ever so slightly as he listens for Zemo’s voice.

Watching from the edge of the bed, Zemo looks distant and detached in a way that sends a chill down your back but you don’t mind, there’s something thrilling in the voyeuristic nature of it. “You may break rule three.” He finally says.

With a soft gasp of surprise you stare at Helmut a little shocked to hear him say it. Bucky however does not need to be told twice.

He parts your knees and you suck in your bottom lip watching the White Wolf hover over you.

His silhouette is stunning. Just long curving lines of tense muscle and power and that vibranium shining black and gold, reflecting the moonlight from the large windows.

Both his hands move up to your thighs before you can stop him and you hiss from the pain— a reminder of Helmuts earlier punishment. Bucky loosens his grip instantly choosing instead to slide his metal arm under your hips, pulling you down flat onto the bed. You look down between your bodies and see him so hard and so ready that he’s making you eager for it in spite of already feeling spent. He however could go all night.

Bucky lifts your ass while lowering his own to blindly find and spear you without hesitation.

You gasp like the air has been knocked from your lungs. Your fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulder and neck and his open mouth finds yours as he starts to thrust, punching his hips forward. Your loud, awful cries are muffled by his deep kiss. He’s been craving you since the last time and it shows.

“She feels so good after she comes.” Helmut says now on the bed with you. “Theres nothing quite like it” He’s close, you hear him just over Bucky’s shoulder but your eyes stay shut.

“Yes” Bucky exhales in your ear holding you so tight. “She feels incredible” He moans.

“So do you.” Helmut says, and you let your eyes open to find him beside you. He’s watching with the hard look of a man who loves as much as he wants to destroy. It makes you smile before you look away just as Bucky jerks his hips forward drawing a loud cry from you. “Don’t stop James. Whatever you feel, don’t stop,” Helmut says, his voice fading.

You slide your head over a little and see him behind Bucky running his hand down the man’s back. He then reaches back and you hear the snap of a bottle but you can’t see so you close your eyes to listen.

“Don’t stop.” Helmut mumbles again.

Bucky disobeys almost instantly. The leash is pulled. The smack to his ass is loud. He starts again and you smile, loving the feel of his ordered thrusting, though it is hesitant. He lets go of you and reaches up, running his fingers over the black satin that blinds him like he might take it off but thinks better of it and keeps fucking you instead.

“You’ve had this before.” Helmut says assuring him that it’s nothing new.

Bucky groans a little slowly grinding against you though he turns his head to the side. “You’ll make me come.” He says, his jaw clenched, voice deep and harsh in warning as he licks his lips, pressing them tight with a tense moan.

“Not yet.”

You stroke his hair where it’s very short at the nape of his neck and nip at his ear, “Don’t come” You say softly and he turns back to you, the tension easing in his shoulders a little as he fucks you just a bit faster.

“Slowly.” Helmut tells him and Bucky moves his hand in close to touch your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. You kiss it and lay your own hand over his, letting him feel your smile as you moan from the way he moves. “Like before, yes?” Helmut says.

“Mmhm” He agrees.

”Just like before so that you will know what to expect, even when it’s not the same” Helmut says softly and you open your eyes. Bucky turns his head left to right, curious, excited and nervous. He opens his mouth and you stare at it, hypnotized by the way he expresses every second of what he feels. He bites down on his lip but lets go just as quickly with a gasp, a moan, a sharp hiss and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

That, must have been two fingers.

He takes it though, and turns back to you slowly, cautiously starting to draw back and push forward again enjoying the stimulation that will make what comes next easier.

“Are you okay?” You whisper through your own shallow breathing as you kiss along his collar bone and run your fingers down his arms.

“Yes” He damn near growls and kisses you hard.

Lost in the feel of his perfect lips and thick cock, just as he starts to find the perfect rhythm, you’re taken by surprise when you feel Bucky groan deeply. He pulls away, turning his head again and even through the blindfold you can see his deep frown.

With one hand firm on Bucky’s side, his fingers pressing deep into his ribs, the Baron’s words melt into Sokovian and his eyes close. You aren’t sure at first, not until you see his right hand on Bucky’s back pushing down just a little and Bucky’s thrust stop completely— not because he’s been told to. Then you know.

The sound, god that soft, unmistakable sound of being taken fills the room and for once it’s not coming from you.

You hold your own breath and reach up cradling his face. You want to look into his eyes but the blindfold was put there by the man you both obey and you think you understand why. It has him so keyed into every touch, it’s heightened even the lightest sensation, that you wonder if it’s fair, it must be so intense, but it’s already happening. And you realize that as good as Bucky still feels inside of you the fact that Helmut is almost inside of him nearly pushes you over the edge.

With his hands tight on Bucky’s waist, you listen to Helmut moan deeply as he pushes past the resistance to smoothly but very slowly, inch by inch, fill him.

Bucky is loud in your ear, louder than you thought he would be and you smile holding him tight until he sighs sounding somehow both relieved and overwhelmed.

“It’s done.” Helmut says between tight breaths leaning over him, “Are you all right?”

Bucky nods against you.

With his cock finally sheathed and the two people he loves beneath him, you get a taste of what the future holds as the Baron starts to, in a sense, fuck you both.

Helmut pulls back. You can tell because Bucky shakes his head in protest, just a little. He pushes up between you like he might want to stop but you stroke his face and bring him back down showering him with kisses until your tongues are playfully rolling along and he seems to be reminded of how good it feels to be buried in your tight walls with you flexing and pulsing around him, so that when Helmut thrust back into him again you both moan together.

He pulls from your lips mouthing “Oh… fuck” with a stuttered breath and if he’d said it, it would have been a shout.

It’s enough to make you moan again beneath them and for a second you close your eyes just letting it happen to you instead of being a part of it until his tone changes and you think maybe its to much…

Helmut pulls the leash and brings Bucky up somewhere halfway between the two of you. “Are you all right?” He asks again reaching to turn Bucky’s face to profile, letting his lips brush his ear. Bucky flashes a breathy smile and nods reaching back, his cold fingers spreading across the top of Helmuts thigh. “Yes.” He manages.

Helmut smiles then, thrusting slowly up and in, laying his head on Bucky’s shoulder to make them moan together and the resulting slow return of Bucky's cock into you makes you join them.

Helmut lays a slow line of kisses across his neck, towards his shoulder, one hand curved over the black and gold, the other snaked around his waist and against his solid stomach as he controls himself, fucking him just a little faster now.

Bucky is as noisy as you are. He hisses when Helmut draws back, his fingers gripping harder on the top of the Baron’s thigh. Zemo unwraps the leash from around his hand and pushes Bucky back down wanting to see you both again.

You moan at the feel of him deeper inside of you, but look beyond Bucky to Helmut; he’s so beautiful with his brow furrowed as he fucks. He looks down at you, legs spread, pussy filled with another man’s cock. He loves it and reaches for you and you for him, your fingers finding one another to interlace. He looks deep into your eyes, his gaze fixed and he refuses to break the link between you even as he bluntly thrust into Bucky until any notion of his “first time” is completely destroyed. Bucky so perfectly becomes this submissive, moaning mess between you.

“Please,” He gasps, your fingers tracing his collar as he raises up “Please, I can’t hold back.”

Helmut just leans over him sighing against his back, holding him tight.

“It’s too much” Bucky says and you try not to moan but the weight of Helmut pushes Him into you and he feels so good.

“Do you want me to come?” Helmut asks sitting up.

“Yes” Bucky answers.”

“And would you like to come?”

“Yes. Please!” He pleads.

Helmut smiles at you, quickly taking your hand to kiss your fingers before letting go and grabbing Bucky’s waist to hold him down. He draws back and snaps his hips forward making the man truly cry out for the first time and you wrap your arms around his neck feeling yourself pulse. You try to hold back too.

Helmut moans deeply enough to get your attention but when you open your eyes and see the look on his face, you know it’s not over yet.

“Beg.” He demands

“Please.” Bucky says in your arms.

“Louder.”

“Please may I come.”

Helmut leans down, his cock drawing back and out, Bucky’s head raising as he does his mouth open looking anxious.

“Louder.” He shoves forward again driving into him which pushes him deeper into you and you press your forehead into his his chest as Bucky nearly cries into the pillow.

“Please Baron.” He actually begs. “Please, I can’t take it… I can’t take more.” And you can hear it in his voice, he’s not talking about the denial.

“Yes.” Zemo exhales in his ear. “Yes come.”

Bucky pushes up showing just a fraction of his strength, and you truly don’t know who is fucking who harder.

Someone has taken hold of your ankles, some else is pushing down on your knees. Bucky’s body flexes and he thrust deep, pushed further by Zemo. He moans through a clenched jaw going stiff before the pulse and warm rush which sends you over the edge with your own climax and you gasp as you cling to him wondering if you’ll always come together now.

The familiar sound of Helmut sighing loudly and breathing hard tells you that he’s only a second behind the two of you. You wish you could touch him…

Bucky is very still as it happens. You watch him openly accept Helmut’s warm ropes of come. You watch him feel exactly what you do right now, what you have countless times— that explosive finalization of being claimed by the man who dominates you so perfectly.

And when the heavy breathing slows, when everyone calms a bit, when you all start to ease back and away— it’s over.

“Bucky” You whisper.

He turns his head towards your voice and knows the tone. Its how you say his name when you’re worried. He smiles a little and leans down to kiss you lightly. Good. He’s not broken.

But maybe you are…

You can’t move, you don’t even want to try, you just wait until the layers of bodies fall away and the cool bedroom air hits your skin and slowly, scared to know what shape your lower half is in, you close your legs, feeling the deep ache in your hips. Your body is spent.

Time passes slowly before you move again and when you do, you prop yourself up onto your elbow somewhat surprised to find Helmut beside you and not Bucky. He’s on the other side lying on his stomach.

The blindfold is on the pillow and his eyes are open. His unfocused gaze seems a little shaken but at least he’s smiling.

“Did we hurt you?” He asks blinking and glancing up when he notices you staring.

Still the damn hero. After all that. “No Bucky.” You smile and roll your eyes laying back down, curling up beside the Baron who rubs your thigh. “You didn’t hurt me.”

You sigh deeply and let your mind go blank closing your eyes again, welcoming the calming silence.

**

“James” You hear from the edge of the bed.

You must have fallen asleep.

You think Bucky might have too, but you can’t tell. He looks down and Helmut motions for him.

He’s moving slow, rubbing his eyes, groaning as he twists onto his back, but Bucky does finally go and sit beside him.

Helmut motions for him to lower his head which he does and gently he unclips the leash and takes the collar from around his neck, pulling it free.

Bucky raises his head looking into those soft brown eyes for a while, the unspoken affection enough for a moment until he slowly folds into the Baron’s arms.

You turn onto your back wincing from all of your aches listening to their softly spoken words some of which are so low that you can’t make out exactly what they’re saying and that’s okay— but what you can hear is everything it should be.

“Not always.” Zemo is saying in answer to a question you missed. His arm is still around Bucky’s shoulders. “Whatever you want is what I’ll give you. You know my nature and I know yours but, never forget my many sides James.” He teases calling back to the earlier conversation.

Bucky sits up “I haven’t. And like I said. I want— well all of it— everything. You. Her.” He looks back over his shoulder and you smile at one another as he reaches back and strokes his hand down the curving arch of your foot.

Bucky looks back at Helmut and sighs. “I thought I knew how it would be… I had no idea.” He says still processing everything thats just happened.

Helmut looks at him and your heart aches with love as you’re sure his does. Bucky is the oldest person in the room with so much to learn. “It’s late, and if we keep on I’ll start getting emotional, I think Whitney Houston has a song about it and she’ll start fucking, dancing again” He tosses a nod in your direction like he just doesn’t know what to do with you.

You laugh from the pillows “Hey!”

“Go on,” Zemo says smiling “Get cleaned up and I’ll send her in after you.”

Bucky nods happily accepting a firm but quick kiss. “Yes Baron” He says with a hint of sarcasm. The submission is fading to the confines of the collar for now and Helmut watches him get up and walk away, with only the slightest change in his gait.

When he says your name you take Bucky’s place and bend your head letting Helmut remove your collar next. He unbuckles it and slides it off, dropping it to the bed; rubbing your neck, kissing where the buckle was. “Now lie back, let me see the rest” He says softly.

You don’t know what he means, but you do anyway.

Helmut bends over you and kisses the now dull, nearly forgotten marks left behind from the leash, but you still flinch. “I don’t mind when you dance, not in the least.” He confesses against your skin and you shut your eyes smiling. Oh. “You dance as much as you want to” He kisses the other leg tracing the fading lines towards your inner thigh. “When you want to and how you want to. So long as you know I’ll probably always find a reason to punish you” He says squeezing your hip, making you laugh. He pulls himself up coming closer and lets his chin rest on your stomach for a second. Helmut looks up at you and sighs rubbing your stomach with his hand flat. “You know that I love you? You— feel it?”

Your heart flutters with an unexpected rush of so many things. You know why he’s asking. A lot of this has been about Bucky, so now Zemo is checking in, making sure you still feel seen —Your dear, wonderful Baron.

You stroke his hair back lost in the clear brown gaze. “I need you to know, to always know.” He sits up sliding close along the edge of the bed so that he can look down at your face as a stream of Sokovian words tumble from his lips, his deep voice laying over your naked body like a blanket. “It’s clear this relationship involves three people and I may share my heart with him, but my love for you is no less. If anything I’m thankful to have a woman like you,” He pauses to lay his hand to your face, the heat of his palm against your cheek feels calming. “Someone capable of bringing the three of us together, no one else could have made this happen, just you.”

“Me?” You ask looking up at him leaning against his touch just a little more.

He nods “Yes, of course. Don’t be modest.” Helmut says stroking your cheek. “I may have loved him first, but you reminded me that it was safe to feel that way in the first place after everything… and to say the words out loud” You can see him thinking back, probably to the night you first declared your true feelings for him as only you would, and it makes him laugh softly. “I loved him first, but you were and are the one I need, so that I may love without fear.”

You feel that sunlight on your face, that warmth that only comes when Baron Zemo looks at you. Sometimes you feel like you will burn too bright from the heat of it; like a struck match. Sometimes you fear you will burn to ash…

You shut your eyes. Anything to break the spell.

He says your name softly and you open them a little embarrassed to find tears blurring your vision. Helmut wipes the stream that falls before you can stop them from falling down the side of your face with the back of his hand and bends to kiss you gently.

He pulls you up to sitting keeping you close.

“Thank you.” You say in his arms. He nods as he looks you over, like he’s looking to make sure you have no physical injuries he needs to care for and brushes a lash from your cheek before smoothing another tear with his thumb.

“No more tears. Go and get cleaned up, yes? You look tired, I was hard on you again."

You laugh hanging your head. “Both of us.”

He joins the laughter rubbing your back inhaling deeply through his teeth, the memories of tonight so good they hurt. “You don’t know; you have know no idea what it’s like to see the two of you…” You lean to the side to see his face clearly, “When you’re both beneath me, and you look small enough to break and he looks like a god” He smiles, a warm laugh mixed with a breath “And you’re both mine.” His smile fades into a look more serious. “And I am yours.”

You’re hopelessly in love with this man and lean in kissing him until you both feel the possibility of it becoming more which really should not physically happen, so you pull away.

“Go on.” He says tapping your leg. “Go and get clean and then come to bed.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll use the smaller bathroom across the hall”

”Okay, I’ll make sure Bucky’s okay too” You add and he smiles but looks up towards the door like he’s suddenly very worried “I’m sure he’s fine.”

You get up but stop and turn back to find him just sitting there looking off, lost in his thoughts. “Helmut?”

“Yes?” He looks at you, the shadows along his face making the sharp angles so pretty.

“Did you think you’d end up loving us both?” You ask and you can see that your question has surprised him.

He looks past you to the bathroom door again listening to the running water of the shower, then back at you for some time before finally answering. “I didn’t think I would give myself the chance.” He says and flashes a smile, the truth surprising even him. “Luckily I don’t always listen to the voices in my head.”

Authors Notes: I'm busy working on the final parts of this story as I've been learning how to work Tumblr thanks to the ever patient, ever wonderful, ever amazing @natbarnes1917 who is basically the best human alive and you should all go and read all of her stuff because it will make your day infinitely better. Thanks for your support and help bestie! and for encouraging me to never delete a single smut scene because why have one bj when you can have two!

[eideticmemory]

FINE LINE II | SPENCER REID

Two kids and two decades of history later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting. PART 2! Read Part One.

Word Count: 3,643.

Warning: Daddy Issues, mommy issues, angst, drama, romance. Love to see it.

Spencer’s a deep sleeper; both E and Em get it from him. But the one thing that all three of them are trained to wake up to, is your voice.

“Hey!” You snapped at Spencer, landing a harsh blow beside his sleeping frame.

He jolted awake in familiar frenzy, reaching out to grab you, make sure you were safe.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” you spoke. “Look, I need a favor.”

“A favor?” he muttered.

“Yes,” you nodded. “You wanna be here for a few days? I need some help. Take the kids to school today.”

“Wha—“

“Or let E drive your car, it doesn’t matter, she’s a good driver,” you shrugged. “They need to be there at 8:15 sharp or else the administration has a stick up their ass. They’ll wake themselves up, dress themselves — stylishly — and feed themselves. And, uh, if you make them late, they’ll lose their minds so try to be out of here by 8, okay? Okay. Thank you.”

“Wait, wait, wait, [y/n],” Spencer called, holding your hand in his palm. “Where are you going?” He weakly pat around the mattress, searching for his phone, and when he grabbed the device in his hand, he checked the time. “It’s six in the morning.”

“So?”

“So,” he sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You subtly averted your eyes to avoid seeing him shirtless, the duvet cover falling to his lap. “You didn’t get home until two in the morning.”

“You spying on me?” You asked.

“No, I just . . . can’t sleep knowing you’re out late at night—“

“Working,” you interjected.

“Working . . . and now you’re up four hours later?” He questioned.

“We could sit here and argue about who has a more messed up work schedule, or you can take the kids to school, just this once, and I’ll pick them up.”

“No, I’ll pick them up, don’t worry about it,” Spencer shrugged. “You go to work, I’ve got it.”

You sighed, “Are you actually staying until Sunday?”

“[y/n]—“

“No, Mr. Unit Chief, how did you get the week off from the BAU? Hm? It — it just doesn’t make sense.”

“So that’s what you wanted to ask me last night . . . why not just say it, [y/n]?”

“Don’t profile me, it’s valid question.”

“Listen,” he squeezed your hand lightly, just enough that the pressure silenced you. “I am off of work until Monday morning. You need me to drop off and pick up the kids? I can do that. Need me to feed them? I can do that, too. I can do it every day this week if you want. If you need to be at work, then go.”

You inhaled deeply, and released it in a sharp breath. “Thanks,” you shrugged. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

The drive to your office was silent. Full of nothing but your thoughts and rambles and quiet scoffs. You missed the kids. Missed being with them in early hours like this, eating breakfast on the go, singing along to the radio. But your mind needed time to rest, to regroup away from Spencer and his sudden appearance.

When you arrived at work, you stumbled in to find an earlier bird than you. “Raven . . .” you mumbled. “I told you to go home, babe.”

“And I told you that this is getting in at 7:30 sharp . . .” she cleared her throat and glanced at you apologetically. “Boss. . .”

You sighed and shrugged, “Do you need help?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “I’m right on schedule.”

You chuckled, full of pride, “Good.” You wandered over to your private office and secluded yourself behind the glass doors. Taking a seat at your desk, you plopped down with a tired huff. You rested your head on your folded arms, and just as you began to snore, your phone rang in your ear. You jumped up in a daze, groaning out at the device in frustration. When you picked it up, however, and saw who was calling, you gasped, whined, fell back childishly in your chair.

You sighed, answering the facetime, “Hi, Penelope.”

“Don’t ‘hi, Penelope” me,” she replied, her phone showing her dressed and sipping on a cup of tea. “I had to find out from Emily that Spencer is staying the week with you and the kids? How is this possible?”

“Pen—“

“Hold on.”

Suddenly, your screen revealed another person being added to the call. “Pen, why did you add Em— . . . Emily, hi.”

“What the hell is going on? [y/n]? Did you call me?” Emily hollered into her car speaker, focusing on the road ahead of her as she speaks.

“I did not call, Penelope called, I was ambushed,” you explained.

“No, no, you do not have Spencer spending the entire week at your house — for the first time, I might add — and not tell me,” Penelope interjected. “How are you? How are the kids? How did this happen? Are you two talking? Are you—“

“I told Penelope that Spencer requested the week off,” Emily said. “I thought you had already told her.”

“Yeah, Section Chief, how about some warning there? How did Spencer even get so much time off?” You rambled.

“Woah, woah,” Emily crowed. “Don’t shoot the messenger, he had more than enough vacation time saved up. He could’ve taken the entire month off and not lost a dime. There was nothing I could do. Plus, I thought, maybe . . .”

“Maybe. . .what?” You questioned.

“Maybe you and him had talked things out and . . .”

“Oh, my goodness,” Penelope exclaimed. “Are you guys back together?”

“No!” You shout. You sighed, “No . . . Spencer and I are not back together. He just . . . showed up. I called him to talk about E’s birthday party and he . . . well he says he’s staying until Sunday. Which is, perfect. Perfect in theory, if he actually stays. But he’s getting the kids’ hopes up and I hate that.”

“Yeah . . .” Emily snickered. “He’s getting the kids’ hopes up?”

“Emily Prentiss, do not profile me. Not you. I swear . . .”

Emily busted out laughing. “I mean, honey,” Penelope whispered. “I’m profiling you right now.”

“And with that, we must say goodbye,” you hummed happily as you pressed the button to hang up.

It was Wednesday. Wednesday. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. So, five days with the man, at most. Then he goes back to DC, and those beautiful ninety miles are between you two again. Unless you do therapy, which you won’t, because it’s an awful idea and — you don’t want to think about Spencer Reid this much. You can’t. But you check the clock and it’s 7:45 and he needs to get the kids out the door soon. Should you call? You should call. Okay, call. No, text E.

Y: hey girlie!! 🥰 had to leave early this morning, is dad taking you to school?

E: hey mom 🥺 yeah dad’s taking us!! we’re getting breakfast right now from chick-fil-a and he’s letting me drive his car!!

Y: oh wow! don’t hit any cows out there!

E: ha ha ha so funny ur hilarious

Y: love you 💕 💗 ❤️

E: love you ✨✨

Okay. They’re up. They’re happy. That’s good. They’re smiles are going to get you through the week. They always do.

When you get home that afternoon, Spencer and the kids were laughing, playing cards against each other in the kitchen.

“I hope you guys aren’t gambling in here, because that’s more of a living room activity,” you laughed to announce your presence.

“Hey, [y/n],” Spencer greeted you. “Come play!”

“I’m good,” you nodded.

“See? I told you guys she won’t play against me. She never has and never will,” he told the kids. They giggled.

“Oh, please, you say that like I’m scared to play against you,” you snickered.

“Well? Are you?” He asked, a hint of arrogance in his voice.

“Absolutely not,” you set your things down on the counter and joined them at the table. “Continue your game, though, because I would be scared to play against the kids.”

Spencer gave you this look out of the corner of his eye, his iris looking at you under his eyelashes and a light smile on his face.

Maybe these next four days won’t be so bad.

They were more than not so bad. They weren’t bad at all. They were blissful and full of smiles and laughter and fun family dinners every night, and you’d never felt so productive. You cleared two major social work cases at the job, thanks to Spencer’s help with the kids. Friday night, you came home to the backyard fully decorated for tomorrow’s party. Spencer had recieved the chair delivery and set everything up behind the house, surrounded each table with a handful of chairs and the proper decorations sat in the center. You absorbed it all in complete and utter shock. You were prepared to spend all of tonight and tomorrow morning doing this. And Spencer took care of it all.

“What do you think?” Spencer grinned, him and E standing in the center of the backyard proudly. “Took us hours but it’s all set. Now we just need the food and the people.”

E chuckled, “What do ya’ think, mom?”

“I. . .” you whispered. “I think it looks gorgeous. You guys did amazing.”

“Thank you,” she pipped, grinning happily. “I think so, too. Oh, c’mon, dad, let me show you my party dress!”

As they rushed into the house, Spencer pinched onto your shoulder lightly, smirking as he passed you by. Your stomach filled with an unshakable and startling feeling. It had you rocking on your heels trying to process it and breathe through it.

Saturday morning, you woke up at 9 o’clock as planned. E would be up in another hour, so you had plenty of time to sort out the last few details of her party. The guest list was just above 80 people, and you had to make sure you had ordered enough food to feed them all. You had to check in with the caterer, the baker, Spencer.

You knocked on the door heavily, before wandering in, expecting him to be dead asleep. When you walked in and saw the bed empty and well made, you stopped in your tracks.

“What the hell?” You muttered, stomping over to the bed, and snatching up the note on the pillow.

My dearest [y/n]

Gone out to run some birthday errands. Kiss the birthday girl for me.

Spencer

Errands? What errands? Is he serious? You sighed, and pulled your phone from your back pocket. You dialed Spencer’s number and held the phone to your ear, only to be greeted with an immediate voicemail. You furrowed your eyebrows and huffed angrily.

You drafted and sent a text to him, desperately wishing you were more surprised by this:

Be back by 4 please.

No answer.

You carried on the day with one mission: keep things under control and keep E’s mind off of Spencer. You let her stay cornered in her room, bringing her breakfast and an iced coffee, and kissing her on the top of her head.

“I can’t believe 16 years ago today, I was laid up in a hospital bed, screaming my head off, cursing at the nurses, when this tiny, slimy thing just . . . popped out of me.”

“Most people just say happy birthday,” Eden cringed.

“Happy birthday, babe,” you giggled. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me just by existing.”

“That’s more like it,” she nodded happily. “Thank you. Is dad here?”

“Uh, no,” you said quickly, prepared for the question. “He went to take care of some stuff for the party, he’ll be back before the party starts, though. Will Francesca be coming over today?”

“Oh. Okay. Uh, yeah. She’s coming to do my makeup.”

“Awesome,” you smiled, standing up. “Well, birthday girl, you get glitzy and glammy, and get ready for the party of a lifetime.”

“Mom . . . is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Stop that, don’t worry about anything today, okay? Things are fine.”

“Okay,” she nodded. She trusted you. For 16 years, since the minute she was born, she’s trusted you. “Okay.”

Eden’s godmother was the first to show up. Penelope Garcia live and in the flesh. She barged into the house the moment you opened the door to greet her, and she rushed up the stairs.

“Pen, she is getting ready—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I understand the importance of a teenage girls appearance, but I haven’t seen either of the kids in so long.”

“It’s been a month, Pen.”

“Way too long . . . Penelope!” She called out for Eden.

E perked her head up in her room, stopping her best friend, Francesca, from doing her eye makeup. “Auntie P?” She murmured and turned to the door.

Penelope opened the bedroom door joyfully, smiling ear to ear when she saw E. “Little Penelope!” She shouted, excitedly clapping her hands.

E hopped up from her seat and ran over to Penelope, practically jumping into her arms.

“Oh, happy birthday, babygirl!” Penelope cooed. “I can’t believe how big you are!”

“Thank you,” E smiled, her face tucked into Penelope’s shoulder.

You watched them, close to tears yourself to see them together. There were 5 people in the room when Eden Penelope Reid was born 16 years old ago. The doctor, 2 nurses, you — of course — and Penelope Garcia. It was the scariest thing you’d ever been through. And at your side, for 10 hours of labor, was Penelope. She held your hand, spoke softly to distract you from the pain, and encouraged you as you went through delivery. When Eden came into the world, it was no question what her middle name would be.

Penelope helped E prepare as you kept the business rolling in. Food, lights, cutlery, plates. You were rushing and running for hours. You barely just had time to shower and get yourself ready, let alone make sure Em put on the outfit you picked out for him. Luckily, Penelope got him dressed and sat with a good book so you could get yourself together.

The clock struck 4 in the afternoon, signaled by an alarm on your phone, and you had just stepped out of the bathroom. You slipped on a floral dress, befitting of a mother on a special day. Hair in place, dress without wrinkles, shoes to match, guests rolling in, and . . . oh yeah, still no Spencer. Countless calls and texts to him went unanswered, and you were running out of excuses to tell the kids.

When your last and final call to him went straight to voicemail, you left a message.

“Spencer, I don’t know where you are, and I want you to know that, right now, I don’t care. It’s a quarter after 4, and people are showing up, and the show must go on, so . . . show up, don’t show up. Keep us on our toes, it doesn’t matter. I hope you’re okay. Bye.”

Dropping you phone on your bed, you gave it one more glance as you left the room.

Music rang throughout the backyard, packed with people by the time it was 5:30. Eden brought the whole BAU together — visited by Penelope, Emily, Matt, Tara, Derek, Hotch, and Luke who brought his and Penny’s baby boy along.

E was in heaven, reunited with some of her closest cousins. It was turning into a good day, without Spencer. But there was a hole caused by his absence that no one could fill. And you know this because you’ve been trying to fill it all of Eden’s life.

While your little girl is quite the social butterfly, sometimes that social battery of hers can wear low. Particularly when she’s overwhelmed by attention, or stress, or her own genius thoughts.

Luckily, she gets that from you, and you two have a tendency to find similar places to hide. She found you sitting on the back patio, hidden in the corner. “Hey, pretty girl!” you smiled. “Having fun?”

“Yeah,” she giggled. “You?”

“Eh, it’s an alright party,” you joked.

“So . . . do you know where dad is?”

You released a long exhale and hesitated for a good, long few seconds. “No.”

She nodded, “Cool. That’s cool.”

“E—“

“Penelope, come here!” Penelope suddenly screamed from the front door.

“Coming!” E called back. “I have to attend to my guests, excuse me.” She giggled, and you smiled at her as she walked away.

You relaxed back against the wall of the house, watching your friends and family rejoice in the backyard. Over the music, you heard the curling sound of a scream. Eden’s scream. And you ran like you’ve never ran in your life.

“Oh, my God,” she cried. “Oh, my God!”

You were confused and a bit scared and very eager to see what had her so overwhelmed. And when you rounded the corner, coming face to face with the front door, you gasped, stopping on your tippy toes like you were knocked in the face by an invisible force.

“Ah! Piccolo genio! Happy birthday!” Rossi said to your daughter as he held her in a tight hug. He pulled away to hold her face in his hands lovingly. “It is incredible to see the person you have become. Goodness! You know who you look just like?” He questioned.

Rossi spun on his heels, facing himself in your direction with open arms. “Her,” he said. “You look just like her.” He stepped towards you slowly, “My goodness, someone would think it was your sweet sixteen we’re celebrating.”

You laughed and shook your head, blinking away the tears of joy in your eyes. “Flattery is not gonna make me forget that a certain someone doesn’t know how to visit more often.”

“Italy to Virginia is a long flight, my dear,” he pulled you into a tight hug. A secure hug. Full of safety and love and memories. “But I will have to make it more.”

You burrowed yourself into his chest, smiling to yourself at the sound of his voice.

“[y/n],” he whispered. “How are you?”

You did nothing but let out a long, long, long sigh.

“We’ll talk,” he nodded.

“Now,” he pulled away from the hug to hold you against his side. “Since I am here, the party may now . . . begin.”

As everyone followed Eden and Rossi through the house, you were left in the entrance with Spencer, who was eyeing you shyly with his hands in his pockets.

“Got caught up at the airport,” he explained.

You gave him the teeniest, tiniest half smile, and let out a faint laugh, “C’mon, Spencer.”

Later that night, when it was just you, Spencer, and the rest of the BAU veterans, he offered to help you clean up. You stood in front of the sink, scrubbing at a dirty pan as music played softly in the background.

“[y/n]?” Spencer whispered to you as he placed leftovers in the fridge. “What’s on your mind?”

You shook your head, and turned briefly to give him a solemn smile, “I never had a sixteenth birthday party,” you told him, returning your attention to the dishes. “Did you?”

He chuckled to himself, “No,” he said. “I had a psychology exam the day of my sixteenth birthday. I took it and then read for the rest of the night.”

“I had a trigonometry exam on my sixteenth birthday,” you shrugged.

“Oh, yeah? How’d you do?” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at him, “I did alright . . . then I went back to my charity dorm on MIT’s campus, and had some microwaved pasta.”

Spencer let out a soft sigh, and stepped over to you, “Life of a child prodigy, right?”

“But not for E. Not for Em. All I ever wanted was for them to be extraordinary, and live an ordinary life. High IQ, be damned, it’s what they deserve.” You rambled. After a few minutes of silence, you glanced at Spencer, who was eyeing you sympathetically. “Don’t profile me, Spencer Reid, we’ve talked about this.”

“I’m not profiling you!” He laughed.

“You are,” you said.

“I am not. If anything, you’re profiling me right now.”

“Profiling you profiling me?”

“Exactly—what? No!” he said through constant laughter.

You smirked at him, hiding a smile behind the expression. “I don’t need to profile you, Spencer. I know you.”

“I—“

“I know you.” You enunciated. “I know you.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You do.”

You knew you had to tear yourself away from those big brown eyes as soon as possible, or risk major emotional turmoil. So, you focused on the dishes as you spoke, “I’ve been thinking . . . maybe therapy . . . wouldn’t be so bad.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide, “Really?”

“Really, it’s about twenty years too late, but . . .” You nodded. “I guess a part of that whole ordinary lives thing for the kids is having parents that actually get along, so . . . I’ll try it.”

“Thank you, [y/n], thank you so much,” he said. “I already made us an appointment here in Charlottesville for next Friday.”

You scoffed. You should’ve been mad, annoyed. But all you could think was: yeah, I definitely married a scorpio.

“Fi—“ you mumbled, in the midst of rolling your eyes when a gust of movement caught your attention. Outside of the kitchen window, to the side of the house, was E. E and some boy. A handsome boy. You couldn’t tell if he looked familiar. Well. Yeah, he kinda did.

“[y/n]?” Spencer called to you, when he suddenly noticed Eden. “Do . . . do you know him? [y/n]?”

You watched as the kid handed E a birthday gift and placed a kiss to her cheek. She blushed softly and looked down. No. No, you didn’t know him. She hadn’t told you about him.

Another part of the whole ordinary life thing. A part that you had completely forgotten about.

Boys.

TAGLIST:

@pinkdiamond1016

@veraiconcos

@cielo1984

@rachelxwayne

@gublergirls

@reidscardigan

@reidsvw

@beyonces-breastmilk

@ev13lovescriminalminds

@mggpleasedontlookhere

@rexorangecouny

[anythingandeverything1d]

The tape (part 2)

Part 1 

Niall’s pov:

Niall, Louis, and Liam were watching the soccer tournament and eating pizza when the doorbell rang. All of the guys looked at each other and sighed. It had been a couple hours since (y/n) had fallen asleep in Louis’ guest bedroom. Harry had been calling and texting her phone non stop which was still sitting abandoned on Louis’ counter. No doubt Harry had tracked her location here. The pounding on the door began but no one moved. No one wanted to disrupt (y/n) right now. She had a hard enough time finding out about the tape and then realizing what exactly it had meant for their relationship, the last thing she needed was woken up by Harry. Louis sighed and stood up, walking to the door with Liam and Niall closely behind. Louis tugged open the door and there he was. He looked pitiful. His eyes were red, puffy, and blood shot. His hair was a mess, tangled curls pulled back from his face. “Harry, so nice ta see ya.” Louis smiled. “What can I do for ya?”

“I know she’s here...” he whispered. “I need to talk to her.”

Louis sighed and looked back at the guys who shook their heads. Niall stepped forward. “I’m not sure I would do that Harry.”

“Why’s that Niall?” Harry shook his head walking in. 

“She’s a bit of a mess at the moment actually. I would give her some time to maybe settle down a bit.” Liam added. 

“I need to see her..” Harry looked anxiously around.

“What happened?” Louis asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to fucking know why you just ruined the best thing you ever had.” Louis snapped back. “That girl deserved the world. She deserves the absolute best, your best. And you did what Harry? Made a sex tape with another girl?”

“Shut up, just tell me where she is Louis.” Harry was getting pissed.

“You should've seen her face when she found out. I’ve never seen a soul broken before but thanks to you and your stupidity now I have. You just ruined that girl. Broke her into a million little pieces.”

“Louis shut up!”

“How could you Harry? I really don't understand. I mean you had it all. She was your life. But now?” Louis laughed angrily. “Now you have nothing. There’s no way she’s going to forgive you for this. You just washed 7 years of love down the drain.”

“You know nothing.”

“Really?” Niall stepped in. “We know that you broke the girls heart. We know that she was inconsolable. She was physically sick when she watched the video. And then she begged us to take her away from YOUR house.” “I just don’t get it man. I mean was the sex not good or something? I never expected this from you. (y/n) is beautiful, she’s sweet, she’s-”

“I know!” Harry yelled. “I don't need anyone to tell me that. I need someone to tell me where she is.”

“No.” Louis crossed his arms.

“What?”

“No. I’m not telling you. She literally begged us to take her away from you and your house and all of your belongings. Why would we tell you where she was? You made her physically ill Harry, Niall had to hold her hair back while she was getting sick. What part of that aren’t you getting into your head. You don’t deserve her you know that right? And you definitely don’t fucking deserve to know where she is at the moment.”

“Where is she? Louis tell me where the fuck my girlfriend is!” Harry screamed. He was losing it. He pushed past the three guys, looking for her. “(y/n)?” he called out. “(y/n)!” After not hearing an answer, he found her phone. He picked it  up, more tears falling down his face. He looked at the guys and they looked away. Harry sighed and dropped his head and whispered, “None of you understand. (y/n) may not understand and you’re right, she may never forgive me. But she deserves to know the truth....”

“And what’s the truth?” you quietly mumbled stepping out from around the corner.

Your pov:

You had crept out of bed, and were silently listening around the corner to the boys arguing. Harry was upset, from the small glance you had seen of him passing by, clearly this situation hadn’t been much easier on him than it had on you. He looked like a mess, something you very rarely saw. You had been fully content on just listening and wandering back to your room when he left, but something inside you had flipped when he said it. You needed the truth. You needed to know why he had ruined 7 years of a relationship, plans to get married, have kids, and grow old together, all for 4 minutes of a sex tape with some random ass girl.

Harry just looked at you, the truth of the situation sinking in. His green eyes searched yours for any sign of hope but you held steady. “Why did you do it? Why did you ruin what we-” your voice broken and you looked down. “What we had?” You were crying now, approaching Harry fast. “We talked about marriage Harry. We talked about kids, and and growing old together!” You screamed, lashing out at him.

“I still want that!” He held his arms up. “(y/n) I swear I-”

“YOU CHEATED HARRY! YOU FUCKING NOT ONLY SLEPT WITH SOMEONE ELSE BUT YOU HAD TO FUCKING RECORD IT TOO!” You couldn’t help it, you slapped him hard on the cheek. He looked shocked, pain flashing through his eyes. You had never hit him before, never even thought about it. You could see the pink handprint forming already on his cheek and you raised your hand to his face, He grabbed it, holding it steadily away from him. You were sobbing and Louis had rushed over trying to decide when he should intervene. You frantically were pushing against Harry’s chest with your free hand, you couldn’t even see through the tears but you wanted him to feel the pain you felt. “What happened to TRUST? What happened to us promising if there was a problem we would fix it TOGETHER? What did I do to make this happen? Why did you do it....” You couldn’t breathe, you dropped to your knees on the floor sobbing and trying to catch your breath. “Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” 

“No...no baby that’s not it at all....” Harry whispered painfully. You could almost hear his heart breaking in his voice. Your eyes were closed but you felt arms tighten around your body. You were hiccuping through the tears trying to catch your breath when you were pulled onto someone’s lap- Harry’s lap. You knew the feeling, the way you fit into him, the way he squeezed you in certain places when you were upset, you had no doubt it was Harry’s lap you were on. You wanted to push him away, to get up, and prove a point but instead your body clung to his, your face burying into his chest for comfort. You could feel his tears falling onto the top of your head, your tears meanwhile were fully soaking into the t-shirt he was wearing. Your fists clutched the shirt on his chest, holding on for dear life. Harry rocked you slowly, whispering calming words and trying to settle you down. “Shh....I’m so sorry (y/n)....I’m so sorry.” 

You don’t know how long you sat there, but it was long enough to hear Niall and Liam mumble goodbye and leave. It was also long enough for Louis to tell Harry to carry you into the guest bedroom for the night. Harry set you carefully on the bed and when you refused to let go of his shirt, he climbed in next you. You looked up at him through the tears that were still falling. His green eyes were red and exhausted but he attempted a smile and wiped a tear from your cheek. Without saying anything, he shifted his body so that you were curled up next to him, your head laying flat on his chest, your ear pressed to his heart listening to the slow and familiar thumps of his heartbeat. He didn’t dare say anything, and neither did you. You wanted to move, to tell him to leave but you were so utterly exhausted you just didn't have the energy anymore. Instead, you just closed your eyes, drifting into dull and uneasy sleep.

When you woke up, you groaned. Your head was fuzzy, your eyes felt puffy and tired, and you felt a little sick to your stomach. You rolled over blinking. Harry was still softly snoring next to you, and for a minute you curled up into him, your fingers trailing his jaw the way you would on a normal morning. Then you realized there was nothing normal about this morning. Everything came flooding back to your head. The tears, the fighting, the sex tape. You jumped up, waking Harry in the process. “(y/n)...” his deep voice was covered in sleep, making it just a little slower and deeper than normal. He sat up rubbing his eyes, “Wait...” You looked at him, new tears forming in your eyes. He sighed and patted the bed next to you. “Can we talk please...” You shook your head and collapsed, your back against the wall. Harry just took a breath and looked at you. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never intended for any of this to happen. I want to tell you everything. I want to make things better. I want-”

“You can’t.”

“What?” He looked at you, his green eyes begging for a chance but you looked away.

“You can’t make this better Harry. The damage is done.”

“(y/n)-”

“Just leave.”

“Babe..”

“Go away Harry. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t want to listen to you beg for forgiveness. I can’t. I won’t. You need to go.”

“Just let me talk okay? I- I need to-”

“Harry I don’t want to listen. I’m not ready for this. Yesterday I watched you fuck another girl in OUR bed. I had to read through the millions of tweets people sent me about the sex tape, and then I had to watch it again, just to make sure it was real. I’M DONE. I CAN’T DO THIS....I hate you.” You were crying again but you weren't about to give in. He couldn’t just bat his eyes and think everything would go back to normal.

Harry stood up, moving towards you. His face looked panic stricken and he looked the way he had when you slapped him last night. When he took another step in your direction, you froze.  “LOUIS!” you screamed.”LOUIS HELP!”  Louis came sprinting into the room, shirtless and confused. You looked up at him through tears.”Tell him to go. Make him leave...” You begged crying. Louis looked from you to Harry and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Harry, I think you should go...”

“Louis, don’t be ridiculous. This doesn’t even involve you-”

“Actually you’ve kinda forced me into the situation now haven't ya? Just go. I’ll make sure she's okay...I’ll keep you updated.” Harry looked down at you. He was crying too, realizing just how badly he had screwed things up. He looked at Louis again who nodded at the door. “You’re only hurting your chances more by staying.”

Harry nodded, shuffling his feet through the door. He made it to the hallway and stopped. “I love you. I love you now and I loved you every MINUTE of the last 7 years. I won’t give up on us.” Harry sniffled, wiping a tear and then headed down the hall to the front door. 

When you heard the door close you broke down. Louis sat next to you, trying to ease the pain and comfort you in some way but out of all the guys he was probably the worst at these situations. Your heart physically ached and you couldn’t breathe. You were choking on tears and partially regretted watching him leave. “Come on love,” Louis tugged you to your feet and dragged you into the kitchen. “Let’s get some food into ya. You’ve not eaten anything in quite a long time.” 

Louis set to work in the kitchen, you were still crying but thankfully Liam and Niall had showed up, probably after Louis had texted begging for help but either way you were grateful. Niall was sat next to you at the table, talking to you about his golf tournament this weekend. Liam was making scrambled eggs and Louis was attempting pancakes. You were partly listening to Niall and partly drifting off in space. You weren’t even thinking, your mind was just wandering and not totally present. “(y/n) are ya alright?” Niall asked concerned.

You blinked and looked over at him. Niall looked at the other guys for help. Louis set a plate with pancakes and eggs in front of you. “She needs to eat.” he said looking at Niall. 

Niall nodded and picked up a fork and held it out to you. “(y/n) why don’t ya just take a bite...Food makes everythin better.” You didn’t say anything, just took the fork and stirred around the eggs. 

“Come on love, the food will help you feel a little better. Might even give you a little bit of life.”

“I have nowhere to go...” 

“What?” Louis asked confused.

“I’ve been living with Harry for the last 4 years...I have no place to live.”

“(y/n) that’s not true. You can live here. You know you are always welcome at Tommo’s place.”

“Yeah, and your always welcome at mine too.” Niall added. 

“Bear would love having his aunt (y/n) around.” Liam noted nodding his head. 

You didn’t answer. You just took a bite of the eggs and pushed the plate away. “I think I’m going to go lay down. I’m not really hungry.” You stood up and looked at your feet, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone and walking in the direction of the bedroom.

Niall’s pov:

The boys all looked at each other as you wandered away back to the bedroom. “She needs to be carefully watched.” Liam noted eating a mouthful of eggs. “Clearly she’s not okay.”

“How in the world could she be okay Liam?” Louis scoffed. “Harry was her whole world. I mean, do you even remember the last fight they had? Because I can’t think of a single example. They’ve been together 7 years! Her whole world is being flipped upside down.”

“I wasn’t saying that, I’m just saying I’m worried about her.” Liam pushed the now empty plate back and sighed. “We will have to take turns being with her until she’s back on her feet. It’s the least we can do.”

“I told Harry we would keep him updated..”

“Is that a good idea? I mean he’s probably just as unstable as she is.”

“I think he's going to constantly be worrying though and thats never a good thing. Remember when we were on tour and (y/n) fell and called Harry crying because she needed to go to the hospital to get stitches and Harry literally almost cancelled the concert because he was so worried and felt like he needed to be there. He wouldn’t eat, sleep, or move from his phone until he was sure she was in bed, being watched over and taken care of. And then all night he called her to check in and constantly beat himself up because he wasn’t there with her. They are both going to struggle with this. Harry maybe even more than (y/n).. it was his fault after all.”

The guys nodded and frowned.  “They need our help. We can’t let them be by themselves during this time.” Niall mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes.

“What do we do?” Liam asked.

“Well (y/n) watch should be pretty easy since she’s here. We will just have to make sure at least twice a day someone checks on Harry and since we are working on this project it shouldn’t be too out of the ordinary to call and show up at his place.”

“Do you think she will ever forgive Harry?” Niall looked up with a concerned look.

“I don't know...” Louis sighed and looked in the direction of the bedroom (y/n) was nestled in. “I think for both of their sakes they will need to work things out. Even if it's just as friends.”

---

Part 2! What do you think? Will (y/n) even talk to Harry? Will they be friends? Will there be more to the story? What do you think should happen?

Check out part 3 ;)

Thanks for all of your love and support on Part 1! You are all incredible! xoxo

[minimitchell]

callumhighwayweek day 7 - free choice (ao3 link)

this is dedicated to @calsangel for being just an overall angel and always brainstorming my daft plot ideas with me.💕

.

Callum knows, as soon as he regains consciousness, that this is going to be a horrible day.

There’s a pounding in his head like someone is manning a jack-hammer inside of his cranium and even just the daylight shining behind his closed eyelids feels aggravating to his over-sensitive head. His stomach is rolling and turning on itself as well; that sinking feeling of a grand old hangover settling deep in it’s pit.

He knew he shouldn’t have drunk so much yesterday.

Yeah, it may be in the nature of a stag do to get more than reasonably drunk but he’s always been a lightweight and judging by how he’s feeling today, it was definitely too much alcohol. The cocktails were a bad idea to start with - the bartender was definitely too generous with the ratio of alcohol to mixer - and the different types of shots were probably the deathblow to his sobriety.

And his memory apparently. Because all he remembers is them having a shitload of drinks at a bar somewhere on the Strip and then-

Nothing.

They’re in Las Vegas for Jay’s stag do. It’s definitely extravagant, flying halfway across the world for a weekend to see him off before his wedding but it was a lifelong dream of Jay’s and as his best man, Ben was determined to make it come true. So their whole friend group saved every penny they could and made their way to the US for a long weekend.

It was definitely worth it just for Jay’s face when they turned up at his and Lola’s flat Friday morning to pick him up for the airport and the groom kept telling them how grateful he was for them and for this in-between shots yesterday.

It’s also nice to see Ben so satisfied and relaxed after basically driving himself crazy with planning and organizing everything the last couple of weeks, if not months. They spent many evenings pouring over their respective laptops, comparing hotel prices and making reservations for bars from an entire ocean away.

They’ve been friends ever since Callum moved to Walford a couple of years ago. At first, it was just because Callum worked with Jay, back when he had first come here before he started working as a youth counsellor, and Ben and Jay were practically attached at the hip. Since then though, he has also developed quite the relationship with Ben, Jay’s brother in everything but blood.

They found out they have a lot in common, not least the fact they’re both gay, and he’s been welcomed into their friend group and family with open arms. Now it’s him and Ben that are always together, one barely being seen without the other, spending most of their free time with each other.

Another thing that has developed since him and Ben became pretty much best friends are his feelings - for Ben of all people. Callum’s always been intrigued by him, right from the get go; by his easy, almost cocky, smirk and his self-assured attitude. Once you get to know Ben and he lets you see beyond the tough exterior, he’s also sweet and supportive, always happy to let Callum talk about a difficult case at work and cheer him up afterwards.

It also doesn’t hurt that he’s very handsome.

He doesn’t want to ruin their friendship though, or lose the family he’s gained through Ben and Jay, so he has settled for being the best mate. For feigning to be supportive when Ben goes off with different guys all the time and trying not to blurt out how he feels about him at every given opportunity.

Another wave of nausea hits Callum out of nowhere and he groans and presses his face deeper into the pillow underneath him. There’s no way he’s going to make it out of the hotel room, out of this bed, anytime soon, maybe not at all today. Even the mere thought of meeting the other guys for dinner later today is enough to make his stomach turn.

It’s a testament to how absolutely shattered he is right now that he only notices the arm draped over his back when he goes to turn around. It makes him pause, fingers tightening against the sheets underneath his pillow. Him and Ben are sharing a room this weekend but they have separate beds, so there would be no reason for them to be sleeping in the same one.

And he can’t see himself pulling anyone last night, not only because it’s a shitty thing to do when you’re on a stag do and sharing a room with someone but also because he’s always too damn busy mooning over Ben to pay any other man any of his attention.

It doesn’t bring him any closer to figuring out who’s lying next to him in bed.

He cracks his eyes open carefully, only a sliver, letting them adjust to the bright morning light flooding the room, trying to avoid the pounding in his head getting even worse. He’s relieved to notice he’s in his own hotel room and wasn’t stupid enough to go back with some stranger when he was out of his mind drunk.

The curtains are open, the view outside the window still just as stunning as it was when they first checked in. They’re in a hotel almost directly on the Strip, located on a little side street with nearly a direct view of the Bellagio hotel and fountain. It’s a sight he never thought he’d see in person and normally he’d be thankful and appreciative but right now his headache isn’t letting him.

His gaze wanders over the clothes scattered on the floor beside the bed and up over his bedside table. It looks a lot messier than how he left it yesterday afternoon before they went bar and casino hopping; his phone curiously enough surrounded by two glass flutes and a bottle of champagne of all things.

What catches his eyes though is a rectangular piece of paper propped up against the foot of the lamp there; squiggly, bold letters at the top and a seal next to two signatures at the bottom. It’s embarrassing how long the two words at the top take to register in Callum’s brain - he isn’t sure whether that’s down to the hangover or to the sheer surrealism of them.

But they’re there; black ink on white parchment, signed with his own name.

Marriage certificate.

Oh no. This is not happening to him. He isn’t going to be this cliché. This sort of thing only happens in crappy movies. It must be a joke. Maybe he misread.

None of the excuses and explanations seem to work because when he closes and opens his eyes again the paper is still there, motionless and offending. He pulls his left hand out from under his pillow and yeah, there it is - a golden band sitting on his ring finger. At least it’s simple and not tacky; small victories he reckons.

God, one night in Vegas and he got married to someone. Some stranger probably, dressed in an Elvis suit with his luck.

How is he going to explain this to the rest of the guys; he’s going to be the laughing stock forever. Even worse, how is he going to explain this to Ben? What is he going to think of Callum now? They’ve talked so often about Callum wanting the whole thing - a nice house, white-picket fence, a husband and a dog. This wasn’t the plan; this isn’t him.

Most of all, he’s perplexed that he actually convinced someone to marry him what with all the whining he usually does when he’s drunk over his unreciprocated feelings for Ben. And if it was the other way around, he’s amazed someone other than Ben managed to convince him to get married on the fly.

This whole thing is such a mess already, he doesn’t even want to see who he’s married to anymore.

It’s inevitable though. And maybe the sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can forget about the whole thing again.

So he turns around as careful as he can - his head is thanking him for the slow and measured movements - the stranger’s arm falling from his back and landing on the minimal space between their bodies, trying not to wake the man sleeping next to him.

When he takes in the face on the pillow next to him, his eyes widen dramatically, even against the protest from his head at the bright light suddenly hitting him full force, and he feels his heart lurch in his chest. Or maybe that’s his stomach.

Because it’s none other than Ben lying shirtless next to him and one quick look at the hand that’s lying on the duvet rather than his back now confirms his worst fears - he’s sporting a matching golden ring on his finger.

Fuck.

He only went and married his best mate in a drunken stupor.

Even worse, he married the guy he’s been secretly in love with for ages now, who probably only said yes because he thought it would be a laugh.

He isn’t sure whether it’s that thought or the hangover rearing its ugly head, but whichever it is, it makes him rush off to the bathroom, not sparing any thought to how loud or sudden his departure from the bed is.

When he returns to the room after brushing his teeth and freshening up a bit, Ben is awake, probably woken up by the shaking of the mattress when he bolted from the bed. He’s propped up against the pillows, white sheets tangled around his body, playing with the ring on his finger. He looks deep in thought, but not disgusted as Callum had feared he would after realizing he got married to Callum of all people.

Their eyes meet almost immediately and Callum is all of a sudden way too aware he’s wearing next to nothing, Ben’s gaze raking over his naked chest. The feeling of being this exposed right now in front of Ben makes him itch, so he goes over to his suitcase to at least put on a shirt.

The silence between them is deafening and uncomfortable; it’s like they’re both waiting for the other to bring up the elephant in the room. Callum doesn’t really know how though.

Where does he even start?

“Alright?”

Ben’s voice is small and hesitant, a little scratchy from all the alcohol he drank yesterday. Callum’s last memory of Ben is him tipping back another Tequila before getting handsy with Jay on the dance floor. He remembers Ben drinking almost as much as him, but he’s simultaneously dreading Ben still remembering more than he does about last night; about their wedding.

“Yeah. Head’s a bit sore, you know.”

It’s painful, this weird small talk they’re doing to avoid talking about what they somehow decided to do last night, but Callum isn’t brave enough to bring it up. He knows without a doubt that he’ll spill all his closely-kept feelings if he even starts thinking about the possibility, the wish, to maybe stay married brewing in his chest.

But he knows it’s a moot point. He might be up for being married to Ben but there’s no way Ben won’t want to get an annulment, right. He never gave any indication that he might have feelings for Callum as well so why should he be married to him.

“So, uh, looks like we got married, eh.”

Callum doesn’t understand why he sounds so calm about this; so nonchalant about the fact they did something so stupid. Maybe the best way to deal with this is to quietly get an annulment, forget about the whole thing and never tell a soul about it.

It might be the only way to salvage their friendship.

“I’m so sorry. It must have been my idea and I dragged you into it. We can just get an annulment and forget the whole thing, yeah?”

Ben scooches closer to him, crawling over to the edge of the bed when Callum sinks back against the desk in front of it. He’s kneeling now and with the sheets pooling under him Callum can see he’s only in his boxers as well. He’ll kick himself forever about not remembering how his skin felt against his own when they were pressed against each other sleeping.

“Hey. Whoever suggested we do this, whether that was you or me, the other person clearly said yes so really we’re in this together now, okay?”

Callum doesn’t know why in the world Ben should’ve been the one to say they should get married but he appreciates him trying to share the blame with Callum anyway. He can’t help but notice Ben is still not looking too worried or angry about the situation. It throws him off because shouldn’t he be at least slightly inconvenienced by this? He never gave the impression that he wanted to get married, least of all to someone he doesn’t have feelings for.

Who would, to be fair.

He has feelings for Ben and even he is freaking out about it all.

Ben is looking down at the sheet underneath him, fingers coming up to play with the ring on his left hand again. Callum is transfixed by the action; the way the sunlight hits the golden metal and reflects off of it, how it looks so natural against Ben’s skin when he twists it back and forth.

It looks good on him; so good. The revelation sends pinpricks of longing to his heart.

“Do you mean it? About getting an annulment.”

Ben doesn’t meet his eyes, otherwise he would see the surprise evident on his face. Because judging from his tone of voice Ben’s not a hundred per cent sold on getting an annulment himself. Although he can’t fathom why.

“What, you don’t?”

When Ben finally looks back up at him his bottom lip is bitten into his mouth, the skin red and worried. His eyes are hesitant but hopeful and maybe, just maybe, Callum has missed a few things in the past few years. Maybe this is not as unrequited as he had always assumed.

“Would it be bad if I didn’t?”

There’s heat spreading through him now; butterflies filling his stomach and making him feel featherlight. He’s trying not to get ahead of himself but it’s hard when the guy you’ve always been in love with implies he’s interested in staying married to you; that he may have feelings for you as well. It’s everything he dreamt about before.

It almost feels too good to be true.

“I, I don’t know.”

He doesn’t want to let himself hope only to be crushed when it turns out that Ben is purely thinking practically, without any feelings being involved from his side. His heart starts beating faster just imagining the opposite though, running away from him and thinking about their possible future together.

The quiet evenings on the couch together, sipping their coffees next to each other in the mornings, slow dancing together at Jay and Lola’s wedding. He wants it all with Ben. He wants a future with him. As his husband if that’s what he wants as well.

“Have you never thought about it? How good we could be together if given a chance? Maybe this is our chance. I- I like you, Cal. So much, always have.”

Callum can’t keep the smile off his face, pushing away from the desk he’s leaning against and crouching down before Ben on the bed. He lets his eyes travel over Ben’s face, taking in the shiny blue eyes he always got lost in and the freckles dotted around his nose. He’s so beautiful, proper heart-stopping gorgeous, and he’s Callum’s husband for some miraculous, mad reason.

“I’m so completely in love with you, Ben. If you’re sure about this then yeah, let’s stay married I guess.”

One of his hands finds the skin of Ben’s cheek, thumb brushing against his ear. Ben leans into it, eyes full of something Callum likes to think is love shining back at him. Looking at him now he can’t believe he’s never realized it before. Ben must have looked at him like this a thousand times before and it has never clicked for him. Until now that is. Now, it’s all he can see. All he can think about.

When he isn’t thinking about covering his lips with his own anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They must lean in at the same time, meeting in the middle between their bodies to seal their lips together in a sweet kiss. Any pounding still remaining in his head is long gone, replaced by a nothingness created by their mouths meeting again and again. Kissing Ben is simultaneously exactly how he imagined, hoped, it would be and so much more; it’s so much better than he thought it could be.

Ben runs his tongue over Callum’s bottom lip, begging to be let in in a way that makes Callum powerless to even think about refusing him and earning the sweetest sounding, breathless laugh in return from Ben when he opens up for him.

They kiss until they’re both panting for air; until their hands are wandering over each other’s skin in a desperate attempt to feel more of one another and the smiles get in the way of the kisses. Callum feels weightless when Ben is smiling at him like this, ready to take on the entire world.

One of Ben’s fingers traces over Callum’s bottom lip and down his neck, along the dip of his collarbone, before hooking in the collar of his shirt.

“How do you feel about consummating our marriage, husband?”

Hearing the last word fall from Ben’s lips sends a shockwave of electricity through his body; one he can feel right down to his toes and the tips of his fingers, setting him alight from top to bottom.

What they’re doing is completely mad, that they’re choosing to stay married right now is absolutely crazy, but if they can talk about it and make it work, then this could easily be the best thing that ever happened to them; he’s sure of it.

“Go ahead.”

The smile on Ben’s face is blinding when he wraps his arms around Callum’s neck and pulls him backwards onto the bed with him, mouths finding each other again on their way onto the soft sheets.

They’ll need to tell the others later, face Jay’s bewilderment for somehow getting married on his stag do, call their families maybe. For now though, Callum wants to focus on the here and now, on his husband under him, on them.

Anything else can wait.

He’s going to let himself enjoy being a newlywed for a while.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 4- Man on the Moon

*Smut ahead, wink wink

Summary: So you got your ass handed to you last night, but it wasn’t a complete loss of an evening. Now here you are with Diego and Luther, searching in a library for Five.

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes

You wake up tangled next to Diego, the sun is shooting a warm ray on his back, as you feel a heavy limb pressed against your face and realize it’s just his arm. Gosh what a bed hog. You nudge him in the stomach with your fingers, when he doesn’t appear to react you tickle his arm that’s currently trapping you. He squirms away, bringing his arm with him, trailing it across your face and evidently messing up your hair.

“Thank you for that.” You mutter as he wakes up, sucking in a large breath. “Good morning to you too, grumpy.” He smiles, turning himself to the side as he props his head up by his right elbow to better look at you. You fake scowl, doing the same. “We’re gonna have to make a pit stop at subway or something cause I could eat a whole village right now.” You whine, dramatically laying back down on your pillow. Diego laughs at your early morning theatrics, you suddenly throw the blanket away from you and launch yourself over Diego. “I gotta piss, be back.” You yelp, racing to the bathroom to relieve yourself. Diego watches you take off with a giant smile plastered onto his handsome face.

While drying your hands, your mind subconsciously wanders to the pleasant shower you and Diego had last night. You could honestly have gone for a round two when you made it to your bedroom, but Diego looked exhausted so you let him sleep. But it just so happens that he’s awake and not tired at the moment, hmm interesting. You open the door and make your way back into the room, where Diego is laying on his back while staring up at the ceiling. “Hey Diego, real question? Would you be up for a continuation of last nights shower?” You ask him, standing a couple feet from the bed, his eyes grow wider. His princely face breaking out into a smug grin. “If you think you’re up for it.” He shoots back, throwing the covers away from him, sitting himself up on the edge of the mattress.

You grin back at that little comment, holding all the information you need to know that your man’s down to party. Taking him by surprise you launch yourself into the bed, rugby tackling Diego into the mattress. He lets out a huff, about to protest his annoyance when you start to kiss his exposed neck. Making a sweet trail of butterfly kisses up to his jawline, up to both of his cheeks, and finally a deep one on his lips.

He moans in delight as his hands snake around your sides, feeling you up and down, “Y/N you’re wild...but hmm... you do...things to me babe.” He purrs in between kisses. You love taking him off guard at any given opportunity, ranging from random jump scares to tackling him with your own means of loving affection. Although right now you really want some friction, so to satisfy this new craving of yours, you lay completely body to body on Diego. You’re both still clothed but now you can tease him a bit by lightly grinding into his growing bulge. Another sweet and guttural moan is pulled from his needy lips as you press your clothed lady bits over him once again, and again, and again. It’s getting you hot and driving Diego insane. He suddenly flips you onto your back in one fluid motion, you let out a surprised yelp and begin laughing when your head hits the pillow.

“A simple, take your pants off would have done it.” You tell him as he hovers over top of you, breathing heavily and noticeably shirtless. He leans down to kiss you, “Yeah well it was nice to hear you scream.” You snort at that as you roll your eyes, “You’re an idiot.” You whisper playfully in his ear, while you start to palm him through his boxers. His snarky comeback abruptly catches in his throat as he’s taken off guard by your fondling. You’re thoroughly enjoying how you’re making Diego squirm underneath your skilled touch. But you know too well he’ll take the reins in no time, and a few moments later he breaks from your heated kiss to lean back away from you. You’re about to protest at the sudden loss of contact, when he begins to pull your sweatpants down your legs. So that’s where we’re going, you think with a smirk. You lift your butt up to better help him get them off of you, and when they’re finally off he flings them across the room. “I’m gonna need to find those later.” You sass, he just smirks as he leans back into you to shut you up with a chaste kiss.

He ever so casually pulls your legs up to straddle you, tugging at your underwear while your lips are locked. You smile into the kiss, knowing exactly what he wants. “You’re in a compromising position..I can’t get them off from here.” You mumble into his lips, Diego reaches an arm out to grab something on the nightstand. You don’t care enough to pay any attention, that is, until a blade is lightly pressed against your hip, Diego cutting off your underwear. You laugh as he quickly rips them off of you, now forgotten somewhere on the floor. “That’s one way to do it.” You muse, while he sets the knife down, getting back to business which consists of taking off your shirt. You’re glad he doesn’t go to cut this one off considering Klaus bought it for you and it’s a favorite of yours.

He tugs it off the rest of the way, throwing it about the room elsewhere, his nimble finger immediately begin massaging your exposed breasts. You let out a pleased moan, that’s pure music to his hears. You grind your naked womanhood into Diego’s thin boxers turning him on even more, by now you’re soaked and about to lose it if Diego doesn’t start discarding his own clothes. To give him a not-so-subtle hint, you buck your bare hips up into his boxers, that are currently doing nothing helpful by trapping his obvious erection. He breaks from your heated embrace to lean his forehead against yours, “Alright, alright...I’m on it.” He chuckles at your neediness, as he finally pulls off his tight boxers. You bite your lip and hold in an excited moan when you see his cock springing out from its previous constraints. Diego then leans himself further down your body, starting to kiss up from your abdomen onto your stomach, between your heaving breasts and up to your neck. God he’s such a tease, always taking his good old time, revving you up with every second he’s not inside you. It’s almost torture.

At long last he makes it to your wanting lips, while you spread your legs apart even wider, granting him open access to what you’re absolutely craving. He holds himself up by his forearms as you reach out one hand to help guide his manhood into you. Once he reaches your slick entrance Diego knows exactly what to do next. You hold onto the sheets as he pushes himself fully into your core, filling you up to the brim. You let out a shaky breath as he begins to slowly thrust into you, his face hovers above yours, eyes closed in deep concentration at how he wants to move. He continues to pull in and out of you over and over again. Leaving you almost breathless each time, suddenly he begins to amp up the pace, much to your delight. Diego pounds into you with deep powerful thrusts that rock your whole body, you let out a moan as you dig your nails into his muscular back for better support. He kisses your shoulder while he pins you down to the mattress with his muscular body that’s rocking into you with gusto. The bed is shaking and the sweet sounds of sex are dissipating throughout the entire apartment. Diego’s heartbeat is thudding against his chest with each stroke, it’s a beautiful symphony in your ears that’s truly sending you places.

“Ah, fuck Y/N I’m getting close.” He grunts while continuing to pound into you. You can’t even fathom a coherent sentence with how he’s making you feel right now. Your pussy throbs with each thrust, the sensations pulling you towards your high. Without warning Diego hits your sweet spot sending you into a wave of pure pleasure, you don’t remember screaming out his name but the words leave your mouth anyways. Your walls tighten against his hard cock in reaction to your orgasm, further wetting the already messy bed sheets, he lets out a loud moan as he cums a few moments after you. Releasing his load into your hot sex all at once, he then gives in a couple more sloppy thrusts for good measure. Before slowly pulling out of you and falling onto the mattress to your left, your entrance is left dripping with some of his warm cum that runs off of you and onto the bed sheets. You ignore the fact that you’re gonna have to change the sheets before you leave later, while you turn to face a sweaty Diego. Who’s already looking at you with a dumbass smile on his stupid cute face. “I thoroughly enjoyed that, if I may add.” He tells you as he reaches out a hand to remove a strand of hair in your face that’s blocking you from properly seeing him. “I don’t remember but I might have screamed once or twice...my brain shuts off when you’re working your wonders.” He chuckles at your truthful comment, it’s not your fault he fucks up your thinking when he’s that deep inside you. Your mind no longer wants to function anymore. Diego’s dick game is that strong, but hell no would you ever fully admit that, his ego does not need anymore boosting.

For the next forty minutes the two of you just cuddle and talk about the most random and insignificant of things that come to mind. Until you look over at the time and decide you should probably get up, it’s still morning but you’ve got important Hargreeves family business to deal with at the Academy. Begrudgingly you pull away from Diego, kissing him before you stand up, walking naked over to your clothes. He props himself up on his elbow, watching you move in adoration. You force yourself to concentrate on putting on your clothes, ignoring Diego’s prying eyes with all your willpower. Once you’re done changing you turn around to face him, “Enjoying the view? Here put some clothes on we got shit to do today.” You quip while throwing him his boxers and some pants. He gets off of the bed, putting on his boxers while you go and find your boots.

“I can’t believe how much red was coming off of you in the shower last night.” Says Diego who’s now putting on a clean dark shirt. You purse your lips together, sitting on the edge of a chair, intently concentrating on tying up your boots. “It happens when you’re practically a human battering ram.” You deadpan, finishing the knot as you fold your arms looking up at Diego. He smirks at that, “Hey, so. What do you think about those crazy masked psychopaths last night? They really gave us a run for our money, huh?” He wonders, as he sits back down on the bed, sliding on his own boots, you get up and walk over to sit next to him. You hug your sides with a frown, “I have a strong suspicion that they have to do with Five. I’d just like to know where the hell he’s been off gallivanting to?”

“Good question. Guess we better head out, and figure out what the fuck is going on.” He stands up, reaching his hand out for you to take. In one swift motion he pulls you up, unintentionally slamming yourself right into his chest. “Jesus, Diego.” You huff, he just laughs holding your face gently, leaning down to kiss you. You give in, wrapping your hands around his muscular waist, pulling him in closer. He smiles into the kiss, reaching down to lightly squeeze your bum. You gasp at the sudden contact, he takes the opportunity to stick his tongue into your mouth, cheeky bastard. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t enjoying this. It’s the small sweet moments with him amongst the chaos that makes you fall for him deeper and deeper every day.

You pull back, his face following yours, he pouts as you smirk at him, “I’m truly debating if we should continue this...again, but we have a mystery to solve, Detective Diego-black-is-my-favorite-color-Hargreeves.” He chuckles at your teasing comment, pecking you on the lips once again. “Okay. Fine. Let’s go see what my idiot family has got in store for us today.” He whines, breaking away from your touch to find his knife belt slash vest type thing. You walk over towards the door, putting on your jacket as you wait for him to get ready.

——

The both of you walk into the Academy, you stopping dead in your tracks to listen closely for movement. Diego walks right into you, “What the...” you shush him, “I’m trying to find Luther, shut up.” He keeps his mouth shut long enough for you to hear the sounds of Luther rummaging around upstairs in Five’s room. “Gotcha.” You smirk, grabbing Diego’s hand as you pull him up the wooden stairs.

The two of you start walking down the hallway, you in the lead, “He’s in Five’s room. With Pogo.” You add, continuing down the dimly lit hallway that you were getting shot in just yesterday. You let Diego take the lead, as he walks into Five’s room first, you right next to him. “What are you doing here?” Demands Diego, Pogo and Luther turning in surprise by your random appearance. Luther looks like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t be, he slowly rises from looking into Five’s drawers, “Uh. Do you guys know about Mom?” He questions, fixating the conversation away from his current situation.

Diego glances down for a moment, “Well, it looks like you got what you wanted, one way or another, right?” He sasses, fed up with Luther always seeming to get what he wants.

“Wanna tell me what you’re both doing here?” Luther asks, redirecting the subject once again. “Looking for Five.” You answer, while leaning your back against the wardrobe. He shifts his gaze to you, “Let me guess, Diego’s gonna save the day.” He grumbles. “It’s what we do. Asshole.” Diego snaps, before you have a chance to clap back at Luther.

“Really? Last I checked, you mopped floors. And Y/N teaches people how to box. At least she’s got that going for her.” He remarks, you scowl in annoyance. Diego snapping around to challenge him, “And what do you do? Sit on the moon....for four years, waiting for orders?” Pogo suddenly speaks up, trying his best to stop something bad from happening, “Boys. This won’t help us find Five.”

Diego ignores him, stepping closer to Luther, “Keep on being a loyal soldier after everything our father did to you.”

“What? You mean save my life?” Luther says, matter-of-factly, a flash of aggravation creeping into his eyes. God here we go.

Diego leans against the side of the wardrobe, a foot or two away from your right shoulder. “No, I mean.....turn you into a monster.” He says honestly, pushing Luther’s buttons, as he looks up defiantly at his larger brother. “Diego.” You hiss at him, a second later Luther punches a hole through the wood, inches from both of your faces. You don’t even flinch, “Nice one.” You mutter, walking around the two of them, as they continue their little matcho stare down.

“Can’t hide it anymore, champ.” Diego tells him, unflinching from Luther’s brief act of aggression. “He had a difficult decision to make, and he made it.” Luther argues back while pulling his fist out of the broken wardrobe door.

Diego shakes his head, “Grow up, Luther. We’re not 13 anymore.” You stand by Pogo rolling your eyes, they’re like actual children.

“That’s what leaders do, by the way.”

“He sent you on that mission all alone. Almost got you killed.” Diego persists, egging on a frustrated Luther further. “Yeah, well at least he was there. Where were you? You and everyone else in this family? Y/N included. You walked out.”

“And thank Christ that we did, or I would have ended up just, like, you.” Jabs Diego, pointing his glove covered finger at Luther, “Let me ask you a question. When you watch one of those nature shows..” You make a disgusted face, knowing exactly where he’s going with this.

“Please don’t.” You groan.

“Does it turn you on?” Diego finishes, trying to get a real reaction from Luther. “So what? Is he just an animal to you, too now, Diego, huh?” Luther accuses, pointing to Pogo, the tension in the room at an all time high.

“Enough!” Shouts Pogo, offended and defeated with how these two have been acting. You decide now’s a good time as ever to lay into them about it.

“Seriously? The Academy was attacked, I was shot multiple times and the rest of you are lucky to still be alive. Grace sadly wasn’t. Not to mention, Five is still MIA, and this is the shit I gotta deal with right now.” You cross your arms in irritation, “You’re both acting like angry little 6 year olds. Take it elsewhere.....Now.” You growl, sick of how both of them have been so moody towards each other. Pogo gives you a slight nod of approval, grateful that at least someone here as any sense.

Luther and Diego go silent, the two of them looking anywhere but your harsh gaze. The both of them embarrassed and annoyed at one another for taking it too far. “Sorry Y/N n’ Pogo.” They both mumble, avoiding eye contact with the two of you. They promptly exit Five’s room, Diego knowing you’re too pissed to have a conversation with right now.

You listen as they disperse down the hallway, “What is wrong with those two? Honestly.” You wonder shaking your head at Pogo. He shrugs, equally as befuddled. “Well, thank you anyways, they needed a stern talking to.” He smiles at you. “Problem is, I need them if I want to find Five. Well....technically I could do it on my own but...uh....that would not sit well with Diego.” You add, saying goodbye to Pogo as you walk out the door in search of those two idiots.

All you have to do is follow their scent down the hallway and then down the stairs to the front room. “So, are you two ready to play nice.” You retort while walking down the wooden staircase. Diego following your every move, “I guess, we can manage.” He mutters, pursing his lips together. You grin at the two of them, “Good. Let’s go find Five.”

——

The three of you walk down the street, towards the last place Luther had seen the stolen van Five was hiding out in. And there it is, parked nonchalantly in front of some hospital. “This is it. He’s still here. This is Five’s Van. Go. Go.” Rambles Luther, ushering you both towards the vehicle, as he makes a sad attempt at opening the locked door. Diego stepping up, by taking out a dagger and lock picking the door with ease. You stand behind them and watch in amusement as Diego opens the door, only for them to both move to get in at the same time. Luther announcing that he’s Number One so therefore he gets a free pass to get in first, Diego turns around to give you a look. You just shrug.

Diego and you jump into the back, scouring the small area for any clues as to Five’s whereabouts. Diego finding Vanya’s book with a ton of notes written in it, including where the book actually came from. The Argyle Public Library. “I know where to find Five.” Diego announces to the two of you.

“When was the last time you were in a public library? Oh right, since never.” You tell Diego bluntly, bursting out with a loud laugh at the end. Luther giving a small snort from his spot in the front seat, Diego just glares at you, mouthing a silent, “I’ll get you for this.” With the least menacing face you’ve ever seen.

——

Making your way into the giant public city library, you stand in front of Diego and Luther, as you take in your surroundings. “Let’s split up.” States Luther. “Wow. Good thinking.” Retorts Diego sarcastically. You chuckle lightly at their brotherly banter. “Yell if you get lost. Or don’t, I don’t care either way.” You mumble sarcastically, turning left to walk up the stairs, Diego following you. Luther taking the right staircase, helping to cover more ground.

You and Diego search the first floor, then the second, and finally you make it to the top. Meeting back up with Luther, who looks as puzzled at you two. “Anything?” He wonders, lost as to where Five could be. “No.” You and Diego reply bluntly. “Y/N, can’t you just hear him....or sniff him out.....like a bloodhound.” He carefully asks you. Sighing you go to answer, “To many people in one area. It’s already loud in here, as it is. Not to mention full of many, less then wonderful scents floating around.” You tell him, while leaning against a nearby cement wall. Diego holds onto the balcony railing, watching people go about their business. You turn to Luther with a shrug as you turn around to carry on your search for Five. Luther nods to you, turning around in the opposite direction in search of Five as well. You stroll down a new isle of bookshelves, deciding to try and concentrate on hyper focusing your hearing and sense of smell. Maybe that will help you find him quicker.

“You wanna know why I left?” Diego starts, choosing now as a good time to explain things to his brother, while you’re off wandering around for his other one.

Luther stops walking, turning himself around to face Diego, “What? What are you talking about?” He scrunches his face up clearly befuddled, Diego continues, “Why I left the Academy.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you couldn’t handle me being Number One.” Luther says, walking closer to Diego, who’s now leaning his back against the balcony.

“No. Because that’s what you do when you’re 17....and in love. And she’s way more appealing then anyone else.....So you move out, become your own person, grow up.” Diego explains, finally revealing his true motives for abandoning the hero lifestyle with the Umbrella Academy.

“Yeah, you’re a real grown-up.” Replies Luther dryly.

“At least I make my own decisions. You’ve never had to hold down a job. Pay bills.” Diego pauses for a moment thinking of something that would make Luther tick, “You ever even been with a girl?” He questions smiling, Luther snapping his head up at Diego at that alarming personal question. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about..”

“Look, you wanna blame me, blame us for leaving first...and then the others...that’s okay. But maybe you’re asking yourself the wrong question. Maybe it’s not about why we left.” Diego pauses for a second letting the words sink into Luther, “Maybe it’s about why you stayed.” Luther’s brows furrow in frustration as he walks closer to Diego, “I stayed because the world needed me.” Diego shakes his head, “You stayed because you couldn’t let go of the way things used to be. The Academy. Dad. With Allison......Dad’s dead. Mom too, now. We’re orphans again, dude.” He walks away from the balcony, turning around to face Luther, “And things are never gonna go back to the way they used to....be.”

“Do you ever stop talking.” Luther cuts in, done with this brotherly therapy session. But before Diego has time to reply you burst into the open area, out from the hallway. They turn to you quickly, “I found him.” You give them a knowing smile, they follow you down the hall in collective confusion.

“Is he, um..?” Ponders Luther, not completely believing you just found Five drunk in a public library holding half a mannequin, an empty beer bottle, and laying among books and writings scribbled on the cement wall behind him.

“Drunk as a skunk.” Replies Diego smiling in amusement at Five’s current state of being.

“Yeah.” You whisper, walking over to pick him up.

——

You’re not certain what the actual time is, but by now it’s dark out, your favorite time of the day. The night air is cool and misty, and the city lights illuminate off of the dark blacktop of the alleyway. The one you’re currently walking down, along with Diego who’s to your upper left. And Luther who’s in between you and Diego, begrudgingly trailing along as he carries a conscious but drunk Five in his muscular arms.

“Well, we can’t go back to the house. It’s not secure. Those psychopaths could be back at any moment.” Worries Luther, still holding Five.

“Our place is closer. No one will look for him there” You add, referring to yours and Diego’s apartment.

Five burps loudly, Luther giving him a warning look, “If you vomit on me..”

“You what’s funny? Aah! I’m going through puberty.” He scoffs, “Huh. Twice. And I...I drank that whole bottle, didn’t I ? That’s what you do when the world you love goes bye-bye. Poof, it’s gone.....What are you guys talkin’ about?” Five wonders.

“Two masked intruders attacked the Academy last night.” Answers Luther.

“They came looking for you. So I need you to focus. What do they want?” Demands Diego, fed up with all the crap you and him had to deal with last night.

“Hazel and Cha-Cha.” States Five tiredly. Diego turning quickly to look at him. “Who?”

“You know, I hate code names.” Whines Luther.

“Ah, the best of the best. Except for me of course.” Chuckles Five, letting out a single hiccup.

“Let me guess, assassins?” You ask him, pretty darn certain you’re right. “Wow, Y/N. Someone pays attention to details.” Applauds Five, starting to ramble on about how Dolores doesn’t like it when he drinks. Diego having enough of his shenanigans whips around to face him, “Hey! I need you to focus. What do this Hazel and Cha-Cha want?”

Five gives Diego the goofiest grin you’ve ever seen as Diego continues to try and reason with him, “We just wanna protect you.”

“Protect me. I don’t need your protection, Diego. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed?” States Five, Diego answering with a quiet no, glancing to you for a second. “I’m the Four frickin’ Horsemen. The apocalypse is coming.” He blurts out, right before turning his head over Luther’s muscular arm, and vomiting on the wet pavement.

“Lovely.” You groan in disgust, Diego and Luther looking away from the scene, equally as grossed out.

——

Finally inside your boiler room apartment, you set Dolores down by the coatrack. Diego standing next to you, as Luther gently lays a mumbling Five onto the bed. “Uh...hmm...they probably had sex here.....gross.” Mutters Five as he falls asleep almost instantly, Luther holds in a laugh the best he can, as not to wake him. You stand up snickering at Five’s subconscious comment about your place. Diego gives you an odd look, blissfully clueless as to what Five just whispered a second ago. Right, Diego can’t hear nearly as well as you can.

“Five just said it was gross that he’s sleeping on our bed, cause we probably fucked there.” You explain, holding in laughter the whole time. Diego’s eyes go wide for a moment, before something else flashes inside them. “And we most definitely did, this morning in fact.” He says lowly in your ear, sending chills down your spine. You look up at him, staring deeply into his chocolate eyes. “That makes it even worse.” You deadpan, “But we’re not telling him that.” You finish, giving him a quick peck on the lips, before turning towards Luther, who’s watching Five.

“Funny. If I didn’t know he was such a prick, I’d say he looks almost adorable in his sleep.” Whispers Diego, gazing down at Five’s oddly peaceful form.

“Well, don’t worry. He’ll sober up eventually. Be back to his normal, unpleasant self.” Says Luther, dreading when that moment may be.

“We can’t wait that long.” You mutter, thinking about how he’s involved with these crazy assassins.

“Exactly, I need to find out what his connection is with these lunatics before someone else dies.” Adds Diego, in sync with what’s on your mind.

“All that stuff he was saying before...What do you think he meant by that?” Wonders Luther, you suddenly hear footsteps approaching.

“Someone’s coming.” You quietly blurt out, Diego turns to you before moving into action. He takes out a knife as he swiftly walks up to the door, giving the two of you a nod, he turns the handle, holding up his knife. “You throw another one of those goddamn knives at me, I’m pressin’ charges.......Or even betta’ I’ll have Y/N take that knife and put it where the sun don’t shine on ya.” Grumbles Al, the boxing gym’s owner.

“What do you want, Al?” Asks Diego, less then enthusiastically, letting the old grump into the apartment. “I ain’t your guys’ secretary. Some lady called for you two, said she needs your help.”

“What lady?” Probes Diego, lost as to who Al could be referring to.

“I dunno. Some, uh, detective. I think she said her name was, uh, Blotch or somethin’.” Rambles Al.

“Patch?”

“Uh, Yeah. She needs you to meet her at that motel, a dump on Calhoun. About a half hour ago.” He says, reading it off a piece of paper.

You share a startled look with Diego, “Oh shit, Patch.” You whisper.

“Uh, oh and something else. She said she found your brother.” Al tells you, turning around and promptly exiting your apartment.

You share another worried look with Diego, “Well, that didn’t make sense.” He says, thinking for a moment.

Suddenly the three of you get a look of realization, “Klaus.” You and Diego then book it out the door.

——

You smell the metallic scent of blood, radiating from a nearby open motel door. A few rooms down from where you and Diego are standing. You push forward, not sensing any signs of life, as you walk up to the open door. You look inside to find, your friend Eudora laying dead on the carpeted floor. A bullet wound in the center of her chest, you race over to her, kneeling down next to her body as Diego does the same.

“Shit. Why didn’t she wait for us.” You whisper yell, angry and in shock that this happened. Diego gently lifts her face up, stunned that his longtime friend is laying lifeless before him. “It had to have been those masked fuckers.” He hisses, upset that neither of you could have been here to prevent this.

“Goddammit, those fucking bastards.” You scream pounding on the floor in frustration. A moment later you hear the call of police sirens in the distance. Never a moment of peace. Taking in a shaky breath you reach out to touch Diego’s arm, “Police. We gotta go.” He looks up at you sadly, giving a gloomy nod, the both of you stand up and make a swift escape out the door and out of sight.

[niksixx]

Number 73

Requested: Anonymously 

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader 

Description: “Hi it’s Tuesday so can I request a smut oneshot where reader is harsh to Axl cuz she thinks of him as a selfish womanizer, and he thinks she’s cold and pretentious so they’re basically enemies, but deep inside she’s unable to resist his hotness so when she’s with her friend she blurts our that she wants him to f*** her or sth, but actually axl accidentally overhears it and next day becomes her worst(best) day?” 

Warning: Smuuuut 

A/N: Reblog please !

*GIF is NOT mine, found on Google. Credit to the owner!* 

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

“My God, have they come up for air yet?” Y/B/F asks, eyes bugging out of her head.

Without looking, you already know who Y/B/F is talking about. “Let me guess. Blonde. Skinny. Around 5’6, 5’7. Tits squeezed into a shirt that’s too tight.”

“Holy shit,” Duff grins. “Spot on.”

Rolling your eyes, you look over your shoulder, scoffing at how disgustingly accurate your prediction was. The blonde is leaned against the bar, arms wrapped loosely around Axl’s neck as their tongues clash in a heated kiss. Soon, he’d ditch her though, and find the next best thing. That’s just how Axl operated.

“He’s a pig,” you whisper, but Slash hears every word.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say someone is jealous.”

You scoff. “Please. I have respect for myself, you know.”

Just as you suspected, Blondie trickled back to her friends, and Axl was on the prowl. You watch as he sidles up next to a brunette this time, turning on his charm. Their tongues are down each other's throats less than a minute later.

“Man, he’s good,” Izzy pipes up for the first time that night, earning a laugh from his friends and a death stare from his fiance.

Well, at least Axl’s friends weren’t despicable, womanizing assholes. All were dating, engaged, or married. None of them ever felt the need to sleep around, even though they’ve had plenty of chances. But Axl? It sent him on some sort of power trip.

Swirling the straw in your rum and coke, you turn your eyes down at the drink, leaning a cheek on your palm. It’s a shame Axl’s personality was shitty. He was an attractive man who knew how to please a woman. Not that you’d know, but damn if you wouldn’t love to find out.

Twenty minutes later, a drunk Axl falls clumsily into the chair beside you, earning stifled laughs from his bandmates. You roll your eyes and scoot away from him, only to be stopped by his hand gripping the back of your chair.

“Where’re you going?” He smiles lazily at you.

Conveniently, you notice your empty glass and you stand. “Anywhere you’re not.”

Steven hollers loudly as Axl’s jaw immediately tenses up. Shooting him a smirk, you find yourself heading over to the bar, turning in your empty glass and ordering three tequila shots.

“Rough night?” The bartender asks as she places the shot glasses in front of you.

You groan. “You have no idea.”

The shot glass touches your lips but before you have the chance to taste the bitter liquid, a man pushes his way through the crowd, nearly knocking into you, before settling himself beside you at the bar. “I’ll take three of whatever she’s having,” Axl flauts a fifty dollar bill in his hand, sending a wink to the bartender before smirking down at you.

“Charming,” you say, downing the tequila. It burns, and you kick yourself for not ordering a few limes to go with it.

“I know, I know,” Axl gloats. “It’s one of my best traits.”

“Clearly you lack the capacity to understand sarcasm.”

Axl grabs his first glass, drinking the liquid with ease. “And clearly you lack the ability to be nice. What’s your problem, hm? You always have this stuck up, bitchy attitude. I promise you, sweetheart,” Axl’s face is dangerously close to yours, and you pray he can’t feel the heat radiating off your cheeks. “You’re not all that.”

“Oh, and you are?” On a normal day, you’d let Axl’s comments roll off your shoulders. The highlight of his day would be insulting you, teasing you, and irritating the fuck out of you. And somehow he always got to you before you could say anything back. This time, though, you’re determined to stand your ground and speak the fuck up.

“Of course I am. Take a good look at who I am, angel,” Axl holds out his arms as if he believes you’ll actually admire him. “I’m Axl fucking Rose for shit’s sake. Rock legend, millionaire, ladies man.”

“Actually,” You lean closer to him, finger rimming the shot glass. “You wanna know what I really think of you?”

“Enlighten me,” he says, teeth biting the corner of his bright pink lip. “Tell me everything I want to hear.”

“I think,” you whisper, body slightly pressing against his side. His eyes are dark, lustful, and they betray him. “That you’re a selfish, stuck up prick that never got any attention as a child, and that’s why you crave it now. You have commitment issues, which is why you’re a shag ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy. You’re a womanizing bastard and you know no woman would ever willingly choose to be with someone like you, and that is why your life revolves around sex. Sex is the only way women give you attention. And that,” your lips graze his ear. “Is truly fucking pathetic.”

Axl stares angrily as you down the second shot, staring back at him with such animosity burning in your eyes, he almost believes you truly hate him. But the hatred in your eyes is mixed with something else, and he can’t quite figure it out. As he replays your words over in his head, it hits him.

Jealousy.

Axl isn’t prepared for the next words that come out of his mouth, but he takes a shot of tequila anyway for courage. “And I think,” he creeps closer to your body, maneuvering around the tight crowd so your back is pressed against the bar, trapping you in his arms. “That you are so beyond jealous that I haven’t fucked you yet.”

Your eyes nearly roll out of your head as Axl laughs at your expression. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Axl prodes, eyes flickering to your lips. For a moment it seems as if he’s going to kiss you. “If I said let’s go back to my house right now, what would you say?”

“I’d say fuck no.”

“Riiiight,” he taunts, inching closer to your face. “And you actually think I believe that?”

“You should,” You briefly turn in his arms to finish the third shot before turning back, chest heaving, thoughts racing, pussy throbbing. He’s dangerously close and you need to get out of there, and fast, before you act on your thoughts. “Because I would never fuck someone whose dick has been shoved in about twenty different girls.”

“More like seventy-two, but who’s keeping track?” Axl winks, backing up to set you free.

Stomach twisting, you shoot Axl the most disgusted look you could manage. “You’ve had sex with seventy-two women?”

“And counting,” He grins, eyes racking your body. “Wanna be number seventy-three?”

~

One too many tequila shots later, you’re stumbling down the street with Y/B/F right behind you. The liquor had hit when you least expected, and tequila mixed with anger was a deadly combination.

“Seventy-two women!” You shout, leaning on a nearby pole to regain your balance. “He’s fucked seventy-two women,” your chuckle is empty, “And he...and he asked me, me! If I wanted to be...be his number seventy-three.”

“Does that surprise you?” Y/B/F asks. “You said it yourself. He’s a pig.”

“I know and it’s even worse because I’d love nothing more than to be number seventy-three!” Axl hit the nail on the head when he called you out for being jealous. You weren’t just jealous. No, observing his hookups with random girls and hearing stories about them the next day was infuriating. You’d never even been a choice to him.

“You don’t mean that,” says Y/B/F, helping you off the pole. “You’re just a little too drunk.”

“No, Y/B/F, I’m serious.” The purse in your hand slaps against your thigh, free hand smacking your forehead. “I’ve wanted him for years, but I’ve never been good enough. I don’t want to date him or anything, I know he’s not really into that, but goddamn it can’t a woman get a little hate sex in her life? I hate him, he can’t stand me. It’s the perfect fuck.”

Y/B/F grabs your hand, rolling their eyes as they help you inside a cab. “Jesus, Y/N, quiet down before someone hears you.”

But it was too late for that, as just a few paces away Axl stood in the back alley of the bar, phone lifted to his ear, cigarette hanging from his mouth as it narrowed in a smirk. You wanted hate sex? Oh, he’d give just that.

~

As you sit on your couch, TV on low volume, book in your lap, you try to ignore the aches in your body. As you discovered this morning just by emptying your guts into the toilet, tequila was not your friend. This hangover was the worst one you’d had, and even though it was your fault you’d drank too much, you’d subconsciously blame Axl for making you so hot and bothered, you felt drowning yourself in liquor was the only way to handle it.  

There’s a knock on your front door and luckily you’d kept it unlocked. You had no intention of moving from the couch other than to go to the bathroom. “It’s open!”

Your eyes don’t leave the page in front of you, too engrossed in the scene playing out, until the all familiar voice has you slowly looking up from the book. “You look like shit.”

“Always the charmer, eh, Axl?” Snapping your book shut, you chuck it beside you, pulling the blanket to your chin. “What do you want?”

Your pupils dilate as Axl pulls his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor. Wandering eyes run over his chest. He’s not like other men. He doesn’t have hard pectorals or the outline of six pack abs, and you like that about him. You also like that he’s standing in front of you shirtless, but you don’t have a guess as to why. “Two words. Hate sex.”

Your breath hitches as he moves toward you. Instinctively, you shoot off the couch. “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, but you need to get out of here right now.”

“Cute shorts,” Axl gestures to the soft gray pajama bottoms that are two sizes too short, the curve of your ass peeking out, giving him a show. “And you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You move around the couch, Axl watching you like his prey. His thumbs are hooked around the belt loops on his jeans as he shuffles his feet along the floor.

“I was drunk,” you admit, eyes flitting around the room, looking at anything other than the man in front of you.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” He says back, folding his arms across his chest. “I know you’re not a huge fan of me. I don’t particularly like you either. But what I do like is sex,” The bulge in his pants hardens, and you beg yourself not to look. “So, how about it, sweetheart?”

You hate the effect he has on you. He knows you want him, he knows he has total control over you now. But you can’t give into him. You won’t. “Get out.”

His demeanor falls briefly, as if maybe he’d read you wrong. “Are you serious?”

“I said get out, Axl.” Walking around the couch, you position yourself in front of him, lightly pushing his chest. “Now.”

He doesn’t budge. “You’re joking.”

“I said get out.”

His head tilts, but he backs up slowly. You follow him toward the door, heart thumping against your chest. Fucking hell, this was your chance! Why were you kicking him out?

“So last night was just a lie,” Axl responds, pursing his lips.

“No, Axl, it wasn’t a fucking lie,” Again, you shove his chest. “I want you. I really fucking want you. But for the six years we’ve known each other, you’ve never given me so much as a fucking wink. For some reason, I’ve never been good enough for you to fuck.”

“And that pisses you off, doesn’t it?” Axl taunts, shoulder leaning against the doorframe. “I knew you were jealous. And I’ve got to be honest, it looks hot on you.”

“Just go, Axl.”

“You don’t want me to go,” his voice is low, raspy, and if he doesn’t leave now, you may just pull him back in. “I know you don’t.”

“Axl, goddamn it--.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you into his body, lips molding against yours. His lips feel just as you imagined. Warm and soft.

He moves them against your mouth with such expertise it was easy to let him guide you. With his free hand he shuts the door behind him as you cling to his body, locking your arms behind his head.

His tongue explores your mouth, claiming you with each sweep of his tongue. He sucks your bottom lip and a moan escapes you. He kisses like an angel, but he’s anything but.

Axl’s hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, the curve of your ass. He whispers “jump” into your mouth and you do, legs locking around his waist, never breaking the kiss. Heat crackles between the two of you, and you’re overwhelmed with the need to feel his skin.

Axl walks the two of you back into the living room, gently lying you on the couch. His lips disconnect from yours and you groan in want, but his lips find their way to your neck and you relax.

“So needy,” he whispers against the base of your throat. His fingers play with the hem of your shirt. “This is in the way.” In a swift motion, Axl rids you of your shirt, running the tip of my tongue over each of your nipples. They perk, and he smirks before closing his lips around the bud, flicking his tongue and softly biting the peaks. Arching your back forces more of your breast in his mouth, and you hook a leg around his waist, bucking your hips upward. “I need you.”

“Be a good girl and wait,” He demands, licking and kissing a line down your belly. He stops at your shorts, kissing your navel once before slowly dragging the shorts down your legs. He kisses the top of your underwear line, lowering his head until his mouth hovers above your clothed center, gently kissing the fabric. Your hips thrust upward in a frenzy. “Touch me, please.”

He says nothing as he takes his time pulling down your underwear. It’s been months since you’d been intimate, and the shyness takes over. Your legs try to squeeze shut, but Axl pushes them back open again. “You’re not hiding from me. I’ll stare at your pussy all day if I want to.”

His tongue licks a stripe up your center before disappearing between your silky folds. Wetness gathers between your thighs and he laps at it, sending a shutter of pleasure throughout your body. He licks and licks, using the tip and flattening his tongue, but what sends you over the edge is his lips sucking your clit into his mouth.

Your toes are curling and your chest is heaving. You do your best to suck in heaps of air, but you can’t focus on breathing as his tongue swirls around your clit.

You want to watch him. Back resting against the couch pillow, you hold yourself up on your elbows just in time to see Axl spit on your pussy. His thumb spreads the saliva across your clit, flicking it rather quickly.

His middle finger slides into your hole, wetness coating the digit as it pumps in and out of your folds. Axl adds his ring finger next, using his free hand to spread you open more. “So tight, sweetheart. Gotta loosen you up a bit so you can take my cock.”

You moan at the vulgarness of his words. This what exactly how you’d pictured sex with Axl. The dirty talk. The fingering. The gentle licks on your clit. This is what you’d been fucking wait for.

Your head falls back as his tongue finds your pussy again, the sensation of his fingers and tongue making your head fall back. “Fuck, fuck, Axl.”

“Yes, baby, I’m gonna fuck you.”

Cold air hits your clit as Axl pulls back, hands finding his jeans and pulling them down his legs. He kicks them off to the side, eyes locking with yours as he fists himself through his boxers. You reach out for him but he slaps your hand away, sliding the boxers down his thighs. His cock springs to life, thankful to not be constricted any longer. He’s long and hard with a few veins on the underside, and you whimper at the sight of precum that dribbles down the head. “Sit up.”

At that point, you’ll do anything he says. Axl sits, hand stroking his dick as you crawl over him, positioning your pussy directly over his cock. You lower yourself a bit, clit brushing against the soft head, and even Axl moans this time. His hands grab your hips, and together you lower yourself down, stifling a cry as his dick forces itself inside your hole, stretching your walls.

Axl’s mouth falls open as you sink yourself lower onto his cock. His hands never leave your hips, but instead aids in the bouncing of your ass against his thighs as you maneuver yourself up and down, up and down. Your tits are perched perfectly in front of him and he licks his lips in delight as he captures a nipple, swirling his tongue in circles.

Your body explodes in pleasure, from the tongue on your breasts to the dick burying itself in your cunt. Hands on Axl’s chest, you balance yourself over top of him, slightly craning your head back to watch as his cock slides in and out of your slick pussy.

Axl’s hand grips your face, turning you back to face him. “This is what you wanted?” He grunts out, hips thrusting upward to meet your hips. “You wanted me to fuck you like a whore?”

Your toes curl. Your legs squeeze against his thighs. Your head falls forward against his, breath fanning over his face as his hand squeezes your jawline. This is all you wanted, and even if you had to wait six years for it, it was worth it.

“Come on, ride my cock.” He grunts harshly as your hips pound against his legs, riding his dick as if there were no tomorrow. Like your life depended on it.

Your pussy clenches around him, and that all too familiar bubble in the pit of your belly only grows as Axl continues his pounding into you. He thrusts at lightning speed, and you’re so caught off guard you reach for the back of the couch, holding on as he fucks the daylights out of you.

“Axl! Shit, shit,” His balls slap against your underside, arms wrapping around your middle to steady you against him. “I’m gonna--fuck I’m--coming!”

Your thighs shake violently as you come, juices spilling out of your pussy, dripping down your legs, and puddling on Axl’s thighs. His load shoots into you and he pulls your forward, nuzzling his face between your breasts, breathing hard. With every twitch of his cock, you moan a little louder.

You close your eyes, steadying your breath as you come down from your sex high. Axl licks his lips, eyes trained on your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him, but your lips never meet as he pulls back.

“This can’t happen again.”

The words stun you as he slides his cock out of you. He stands from the couch, pulling on his boxers and pants before pulling his shirt down over his head, leaving you to process his words. This can’t happen again. Why the hell not?

“Wait, what?” You shoot off the couch, flustered and completely naked. Axl’s eyes run up and down your body, and you can see it in his face, he wants you. But something is holding him back. “I just had the best fucking day of my life, and you tell me it’ll never happen again?”

He shrugs, finishing the button on his jeans. There’s something sad in his eyes, and your heart breaks. “I don’t fuck the same girl twice.”

He turns, and you chase after him. Axl just gets to the door before you grab his arm, forcing him to turn around and look at you. “So that’s fucking it? You’re just going to leave?”

Axl nods, biting the corner of his mouth. “One and done, sweetheart. That’s all I can offer you.”

“But,” you stutter, unable to control the tears pricking your eyes. “But I thought-.”

“That fucking you would be different?” He asks, swallowing nervously as the tears in your eyes break free. Damn it. He wanted to be gone before the waterworks started. “That I’d want to be with you? We’re enemies, Y/N. Our personalities clash. You’re a bitch and I’m...well...you were right. I’m a bastard that only wants sex. You were never an exception,” Axl blows out a breath and watches as your face falls dejectedly. “You were just number seventy-three.”

[i-need-entertainment]

Someday: Overhaul

You had been Overhaul’s assistant for two years now, you were also one of the few people closest to him. And by close I mean, non-expendable, not at a huge risk to be overhauled, and can give him advice that he (usually) takes. You knew Kai (Oh yeah, he also insisted that you call him by his name, but only around him or Chrono.) wasn’t exactly a heartfelt individual, yet you couldn’t help but fall for the Mysophobic, emotionless, cold young leader of the Shie Hassaikai. 

You knew he’d never feel the same, I mean, the guys borderline a sociopath, not to mention EXTREMELY dedicated to his goals. So you knew loving him wouldn’t end up great for you..but you mean what you say when you couldn’t help yourself. He was strong, charming, determined, not to mention handsome. Even only ever seeing from the bridge of his nose up, you could tell he was attractive. About a year or so ago, you had asked Hari, (his childhood friend) If he was hiding a scar or birth defect. But he said he just didn’t like breathing the same air as they did. Which seemed like overkill, but you weren’t one to judge. Currently you were making your way over to Overhaul’s office, he had said he needed your help with something. This wasn’t unusual, being called into his office. I mean, you were basically his secretary. But lately you noticed you had been getting called in more, and more. But not for phone calls, or paperwork, but simple things. Little things he could have easily done himself, or even gotten one of the precepts to do, but instead he insisted that it be you. After about five minutes of wandering the maze of a base, you got to his door and knocked. You used to have to wear a black surgical mask, and gloves, but over the years he got used to you and allowed you to not wear them. Oh yeah! You might want to know what you’re wearing, you wore a silky white dress shirt neatly tucked into a black pencil skirt that ended just above your knees, your hair was down, straightened and parted on the left, with the left side being sweetly tucked behind your ear. “Come in” The usual monotoned voice of Overhaul spoke up. You walked into the room and headed over to his desk. It was then you noticed he wasn’t wearing his plague mask, but his black surgical mask he wore under it. You always liked when he didn’t wear it because you got to see his nice features more clearly. He had also abandoned the jacket and tie, leaving his first few buttons undone. He was also holding a wad of gauze to his forehead. “Oh my gosh Kai, what happened?! You’re bleeding!” you scrambled to get the gauze and medical supplies he kept on hand “We had a couple…issues with the lab this morning, a vile of the drug exploded and it cut me on my forehead, and I think there’s some glass lodged in my shoulder” It was then you noticed he had also been holding his shoulder. “Yeah, I’d say! And you didn’t get any medical attention?! Why didn’t you fix your shoulder with your quirk!” “It was a vile of the quirk destroying drug, my quirk won’t be back until tomorrow, and I don’t think it’d be a good idea to wait until then to deal with it.” Luckily for both of you, you had taken an advanced course in first aid when you started working there, so you knew how to fix wounds like this, you just normally didn’t have to since overhaul could fix his wounds himself. “Okay then, I can help you but you’re going to have to let me touch you.” Just at the mention of the word ‘touch’ Overhaul could feel the hives just waiting to make their appearance. You see, the truth is, is that over the past two years, overhaul had developed feeling for you too, but being a villain and the leader of one of the most notorious gangs in history, he didn’t exactly know what to do. He had asked chrono what to do about it, and he said he should just tell her how he feels, especially since she was the only female, aside from Eri, in the Shie Hassaikai and she probably wouldn’t be single for long. Chrono had smoothly and stealthily found out that y/n was indeed single and liked overhaul back, and was more than happy to play match maker. (Listen, being stuck in this base can get boring real quick, real fast.) Y/n made her way over to the young boss. “Since it’s lodged pretty deep into your shoulder, you’re gonna have to take off your shirt..” y/n sheepishly looked away. Overhaul smirked, y/n was a usually confident and collected person, and there’s only one person whose been able to crack that façade and make her flustered, and that person is of course Kai Chisaki. “Are you sure its not just because you want to see me with my shirt off y/n? Hm?” The mention of Overhaul shirtless alone made y/n’s face go bright red, a sight that made Overhaul lightly chuckle. He took his shirt off and y/n’s blush only grew. The man was built. She knew he was in good shape, and probably had some muscle, but she hadn’t expected him to be in THAT good of shape! This reaction did not go unnoticed by him, and only boosted his ego of course. “Now, are you going to keep checking me out, or are you going to patch me up?” He asked in his usual monotone, but with a noticeable amount of amusement in his tone. “You really enjoy making me embarrassed don’t you?” you said as you started cleaning the wound “I must admit, it’s amusing to say the least. It’s not my fault your so easy to fluster y/n~” He said the last part in a deeper, maybe even seductive tone, the kind of tone that made y/n’s heart flutter, and get used to the blush, cause it ain’t leavin anytime soon. It was then you also noticed that kai…didn’t have any hives…. you were touching him…and he wasn’t covered in hives!!! It was then you also felt two arms snake their way around your waist. (Kai is sitting in his desk chair, and your standing in front of him patching him up) “U-uh k-kai” You stuttered out, face red beyond belief and with the heart beat to match. “Yes, y/n?” He answered, as if he hadn’t just made the smoothest move known to mankind. “D-doesn’t it bo-other you to t-touch me?” You had finished patching up the gash on his shoulder and forehead, you were about to move away, when strong arms pulled you to sit on his lap. “eep!” You squeaked as you felt him bury his head into your shoulder. “It doesn’t bother me y/n, you’re clean. Actually…I enjoy your touch…I enjoy being around you, y/n” he said, looking up and turning his golden gaze to match your shocked one. “Actually y/n, I’ve enjoyed your company for a while now, it hasn’t been until recently however that I knew why. Do you know why, y/n?” “U-um, w-why kai?” “It’s because I love you Y/n L/n. Or rather, I’m in love with you.” Hold up. Did he just- yup. He did. Kai Chisaki, the scary leader of the Shie Hassaikai just sMoOtH as butter confessed his love to you. You quickly turned to meet his gaze, filled with nothing but sincerity, and love. “…Do you really mean it?” “Every word. So?” “So..?” He playfully rolled his eyes “Do I really have to spell it out for you? I want to be your boyfriend, y/n. Although I must be honest, I can’t promise to want to be your boyfriend forever.” “Oh?....Why not?” “Simple, someday I’m going to want to be your husband instead.”……��Y/n.exe has OFFICIALLY stopped working. “KAI CHISAKI ATLEAST GIVE ME A WARNING BEFORE YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT!!” If the tone of her voice didn’t give it away, the FIERCE blush on her face did. “No, I’m only going to give you a warning if I’m teasing you, I see no reason to warn you if I’m being serious.” The son of a gun shrugged it off like he DIDN’T just say he was gonna marry you someday and moved on. “But, y/n, in all seriousness, I am completely sure in my feelings for you.” “I didn’t think you’d feel the same way..All this time, I thought it was one sided, guess I was wrong huh?” Y/n let out a happy giggle, the kind that made Kai’s heart overflow with love. Sure, he was a cold Yakuza leader, and yes he on occasion killed people, but if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he was hopelessly and utterly in love with Y/n L/n and he was going to make sure nothing EVER changed that. “….I…I Love you….y/n..” Although it was going to take him AWHILE to get used to…well emotions he knew that one day, someday you’d understand just how much he loved you. “I love you too, Kai Chisaki”. And right now, someday was getting closer and closer.

[sophiamcdougall]

EXPLAINING SANREMO

(PART TWO) I am back. I have barely eaten or slept and Tumblr has tried to murder me and this post multiple times, but I have survived. Thank you for your patience.

Part One of my attempt to explain the seismic experience that is 2020 Sanremo Festival of Italian Song is here. 

Ready? I assure you, you are not, but let’s proceed. So Sanremo rages pitilessly on.  Now everyone knows what’s at stake, and everyone, including your humble recapper, is exhausted, but doing the gay/chaotic best they can.

As the final battle to save Amadeus, Rancore, Italy and THE WORLD approaches, Achille Lauro has a last message for the troops. And I’m not deducing this, he literally said it on Twitter. 

...Hold me I’m scared.

Meanwhile (sort of) (go with it) (time isn’t real at Sanremo)  a minor drama  has occurred offstage. Singer Tiziano Ferro made an ill-advised joke about Fiorello’s interminable comedy bits, some idiots on Twitter ran away with it, and poor Fiorello was upset! This is minuscule in Sanremo terms. But consider the flapping of a butterfly’s wings. Consider hurricanes. But who is Tiziano Ferro?

Hold on. We’ll get to it. For now ...

Fiorello is dancing seductively for an absolutely delighted Amadeus while dressed as a rabbit. And wearing a blonde wig. Is there a rational explanation for this? I mean, sort of. But also no.

And then he worries Amadeus might give him herpes, which causes Amadeus to freaking snap.

“No, no!” yells the mercurial Fiorello. Amadeus isn’t worthy of his kisses yet. He ricochets out of Amadeus’s arms and into the audience and “passes on” the kiss to a guy in the front row. 

“Incredible things are going to happen tonight!” yells Amadeus, who has no fucking idea. ”Beautiful things,” corrects Fiorello. 

But just because Fiorello is a mayhem elemental on a mission of love doesn’t mean he hasn’t got feelings. 

Enter Italy’s sweetheart, Tiziano Ferro.

Actually, Tiziano’s been there all along. He’s the specialest of special guests, singing through basically his entire back catalogue every night. Which why it really was unfair of him to pick on Fiorello --   it’s not his fault he’s literally got to stand there and babble nonsense for aeons on end, Tiziano! He’s just serving the hungry chthonic entity that is Sanremo, same as you.  

While the gay mayhem (the gayhem, if you will) surges around him, Tiziano  has been fighting the good gay fight in his own steadfast way, so far untouched. His mere presence is a message of hope in itself, he knows this, and is determined to make it count. Ten years ago he was closeted, convinced coming out would end his career, and suicidal. Now happily married and gloriously successful, he is here to demonstrate that “it gets better”. He radiates such wholesome joy and resilience that everyone loves him.

So anyway, Tiziano didn’t mean to hurt anybody because he would never, and now he wants to make things right. So will Fiorello forgive him?

Ah, what better gesture of reconciliation than to goofily sing a  love song written by Fiorello himself. Of course Fiorello forgives Tiziano, because Fiorello loves everyone, good and bad, (after all he loves Amadeus the most). But he is also a chaos being, and he is working harder than anyone else to channel the divine madness of this deranged Sanremo Festival into anyone who gets close. Tiziano, watch out!

Seems TIziano naively thought he could lean in for a staged, nearly kiss, but  Fiorello’s very soul is antithetical to “nearly” anything.

“My husband’s going to divorce me!”  wails poor Tiziano, but Fiorello has never felt so alive. This is Sanremo, bitches. Rules like “sixty-year-old men can’t be danger twinks, Fiorello,” have ceased to apply. He is an apostle of Achille Lauro, he has accepted the sermon of Benigni into his heart: it is time for PHYSICAL LOVE. While not quite ready (yet) to fuck everyone in the orchestra pit, he is throbbing with readiness, to frolic all over the theatre giving all the guys he can get his hands on THE KISSES OF HIS MOUTH.

Naturally this sparks further firestorms of chaos. “Do it again!” begs grizzled rocker and high-ranking competitor Piero Pelù. Electrified by the touch of Fiorello’s lips, he is later to be found running shirtless through the auditorium where he steals a handbag.

Everyone is kissing everyone, age and orientation be damned. Summoned by the gay sorcery unfolding, 65-year-old queer rock goddess Gianna Nanini manifests and is kissed worshipfully on the lips by 36-year-old duet partner Coez.

There’s also some kind of song competition going on I guess. 

This happens:

That’s Ghali, GUYS, IT’S NOT WORKING, rappers ARE DROPPING LIKE FLIES ALL OVER THIS STAGE, WE’VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING.

(...  it isn’t really Ghali and don’t worry. This is a gag? Which I still don’t really get? And nor does sweet anarchist cherub Fiorello whom we will later discover is currently being physically restrained from rushing onstage to tend to the fallen rapper’s wounds.)

The real Ghali raps in Arabic which among other things is a big old “me ne frego” of his own to Italian Trump-tribute act and failed wannabe prime minister Matteo Salvini. Then he gets close to Fiorello, which can only end one way.

All the boys are crazy for Fiorello’s kisses but Amadeus still can’t have any

It’s already a difficult night for Amadeus.  TV presenter Antonella Clerici enters and far from standing a step beside him, righteously rips the piss out of him, which to be fair he accepts with grace.

And as for Achille Lauro ... ...No.  Patience. The time to bear witness to the last stand of Achille Lauro is not yet come. There are other forces stirring at Sanremo.

Chaos has its dark side.

The gun on stage is cocked and loaded. This is it. ENTER MORGAN.

... and enter Bugo,  who trails in behind Morgan, looking dazed and haunted. But whatever, it’s a million o’clock in the morning, aren’t we all. 

They start to play.  Italian Tumblr dozes fitfully on its sofa, idly crackshipping Amadeus and Fiorello. Utterly unprepared.

So most of us don’t notice what’s happening ...

... until the music just stops.

No one’s paid attention to the Morgan and Bugo in days. As far as I’m concerned Fabrizio Moro has already been avenged and my bloodlust is slaked.  The song - apparently written wholly by Bugo - honestly, isn’t bad, but Morgan’s been tuneless throughout and their duet/cover last night was cringeable. There have been some major reversals in the rankings but at this point there’s almost no way they’re going to be one of them.  And Morgan is not happy.

So Morgan changed the lyrics (and this isn’t even last-minute improv, he fucking printed it) to attack the one person who still had faith in him, blaming Bugo and Bugo alone for their poor performance so far. On live TV. In front of millions. After screaming at Bugo backstage just minutes ago. And he expects Bugo to just stand there and take it.

"Me ne frego to that shit,” thinks Bugo, and becomes the unexpected self-care hero of Sanremo as he vanishes into the night.

And that’s how I learned the Italian word for pandemonium. 

Morgan has the absolute nerve to ask what’s going on. Amadeus breaks out in visible cold sweat. Fiorello is thrown bodily onstage to DO SOMETHING, ANYTHING, OH MY GOD.

It’s long past midnight and a bunch of worried middle-aged men in sparkly jackets are scampering around yelping “Bugo? Bugo! BUGO? BUGO!!!” and that, I am here to tell you, when you are already delirious from exhaustion and shitposting-induced hysteria, is more than enough to tip you right over the edge.

Italian Tumblr resigns itself to never sleeping again.The memes aren’t going to make themselves. 

Translation: ”Is Bugo there?” “What’s happening?” “Where’s Bugo gone?” “I have to go and see where Bugo is.” “Bugo left.” “BUGO!”

Morgan wants vengeance. Fiorello, adorably indifferent to the fact that he was shoved on stage to, you know, entertain the audience, wants to find the missing waif, wrap him in a blanket and feed him soup. So they both rush offstage and Amadeus is left alone in a living anxiety dream.

The audience are booing.  The 70th fucking Sanremo Festival of Italian Song is falling to pieces on his watch. For all he knows murder is going on backstage and he picked known powder-keg and scoundrel Morgan for the Festival. The buck stops with him. And he has no lines, no back-up, no idea what to do about it.

And then Fiorello, angel of misrule, avatar of lawlessness and love, strolls back onstage. He looks confident and relaxed, like a man with all the answers.  Which he is.

“Have you got Bugo?” Amadeus inquires desperately.

NO RULES, NO MASTERS, NO SPONSORSHIP MONEY. ME NE FREGO.

Everything is broken. And somehow everything is OK.

Everyone, Amadeus included, bursts into hysterical, cathartic laughter.

“Is this my fault?” Amadeus asks. “YES!” crows Fiorello, lovingly forcing Amadeus to face his sins and his nightmares in a healing atmosphere of radical acceptance and mass psychosis.

And that’s how Amadeus learned that the real Sanremo was inside us all along.  And what he needs in this glorious maelstrom was never a beautiful woman standing a step behind him. It’s a chaos pixie dream boy at his side.

It’s time to cast out toxic masculinity and become a better man.

So Amadeus wraps up the show as best he can and then out of pure human compassion, he and Fiorello personally wander the streets of Sanremo looking for Bugo until four in the morning.

Bugo and Morgan are automatically disqualified

And now let us witness the final passion of Achille Lauro. Who is this Achlle Lauro kid anyway? How intentional is all this? Is he the Messiah, or a very naughty boy?

SO YEAH. Anyway, everyone’s wondering what the fuck Achille and his producer/guitarist Boss Doms (yes, really) are going to do, and BE, next. Achille’s first three looks were inspired by St Francis of Assisi, David Bowie, and Marchesa Luisa Casati. 

So ... Freddie Mercury, maybe? Elizabeth I? Jesus Christ?  And after the flurry of kissing Fiorello whipped up .. 

Will they ... can they ... dare they...

Do you even need to ask?

I have no idea how the crazy bastards who guessed “Elizabeth I” did it. 

Achille thrusts his hips against Boss’s backside. Drops to his knees before him and lets the shape of the microphone speak for itself. Briefly chokes him. And throughout they are tender, elegant, and utterly, regally dignified.

And then, at last.

A  joyous chorus of maenad-like shrieks rings out across Europe. If you’re in the Greater London area and your ears are still sore, I’m sorry. That was me. 

That’s it. Achille Lauro and Boss Doms ascend into heaven and pass into history. 

Not even they can give more to Sanremo.

The dust settles. 

The dawn breaks.

WE FUCKING DID IT! RANCORE LIVES! WOUNDED (as are we all) BUT SMILING AT A WORLD TRANSFORMED! (Not only that but, after starting at the bottom of the leaderboard he’s been catapulted up into the top ten and wins the special prize for Best Lyrics!)

And Amadeus?

Well, let’s hear from him in his own words.

Because Fiorello asked him to, Amadeus is wearing a blonde wig to look like legendary TV host Maria de Filippi. Amadeus doesn’t normally sing, but because Fiorello asks him to, he joins him in song.“A WORLD OF LOVE! LOVE! LOVE!” they chorus. It’s the hymn of the new day. 

“He can make me do anything!” Amadeus sighs to the audience. So Fiorello asks him to slow-dance.  And they do.

The prophecy has been fulfilled. Amadeus has let love into his heart. He has surrendered to the holy power of gay chaos. He is a man reborn. 

He didn’t find Bugo on that long, gruelling dark night of the soul, because incredibly,  poor Bugo never left the theatre and spent the night literally hiding in a cupboard.

But he found something else. 

As Sanremo finally, mercifully approaches its end, Fiorello grapples him close and, all teasing cast aside, whispers fiercely in his ear:

And somehow it was.

And toxic masculinity?

To find out why don’t we - and I am sorry about this - check in on Matteo Salvini who would normally be rage-tweeting up a Trump-style storm by now. He loves bitching about Sanremo for being “rigged by the left”  or occasionally letting a non-lily-white performer win, and this year he even tried to organise a boycott. Let’s see how that’s going.

This, the gayest-ever Sanremo in history, is the most-watched Sanremo in 18 years, with an incredible 60% audience share.

“Me Ne Frego” flies to the top of the Spotify charts.  (And though the judges are still cowards and traitors who left Achille in 8th place, there is no doubt across the media who the real star of the festival was. ) And Salvini’s “boycott” just meant he effectively banned himself from making a peep about it.

So who won the festival?

ALL OF US.

Oh, you meant literally.

This guy. His name is Diodato and his song is called “Fai Rumore” (Make a Sound.) It’s fine.

And that was Sanremo. It wasn’t a dream, it was a place. And you, and you, and you were there.

[anika-ann]

The Best Mistake of My Life - Pt.5

The A+ Day...

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 2320

Summary: A soulmate AU. They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?

You get to spend the day with the Avengers. Should you be excited or scared? Well, Steve is by your side, so...

Warnings: swearing, FLUFF, Steve’s friends being Steve’s friends… go figure

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You were very comfy and very warm. Maybe even too warm. Also, your covers were moving behind your back and that was a bit odd, but you blamed the sensation on the morning confusion. Your bed smelled nicer than usual too. You nuzzled closer into the moving warmth, content it stilled its movements.

Except that after that, it talked.

“Sorry to wake you,” the comforter whispered hoarsely and it was like a shot of adrenaline to your veins, making you jolt fully awake, sitting up straight, causing your head to pound with the swift movement.

That was Steve’s voice.

Because you were sleeping in Steve’s bed.  

“Are you okay?” he asked lowly, but you couldn’t respond right away. The memories came rushing back to you, messy but warmly fuzzy images of last night.

You had danced with Steve. Steve had kissed you. Steve had kissed you a lot.  

Your lips unwittingly curled up in a smile despite the abrupt wake-up process. You heard him moving at your side, sitting up as well, so you turned to him, still grinning in perfect contrast to his concerned face.

He looked adorable with his hair sticking in every direction, a bit sleepy expression on his face, and he was also still very much shirtless. You were sure you woke up to heaven.

“Sorry to freak out. I was just… ugh, confused for a bit,” you explained, keeping your voice on low level just like he did, worried you might disturb the peace. “Good morning, Steve.”

His face cleared of worried wrinkles and he charmed a smile for you. “Morning, doll. Slept well?”

“Very. You?”

“Yeah.”

You just stared at each other, grinning like fools, eyes sparkling. You must have looked ridiculous, but you didn’t care. Subconsciously, when he released you from the lock of his eyes, your gaze wandered over him, appreciating the lack of clothing. How could person have a body this marvellous? You knew it was probably the effect of the serum, but gosh. What a view.

Good morning indeed.

You noticed a blush spreading down his neck and quickly snapped your gaze back to where it was decent. But hey, when you were offered a view like this, you simply had to make the best of the opportunity!

Steve seemed a bit sheepish, but you couldn’t help but notice that a new glint appeared in his irises, something in the way he was watching you back that gave out that maybe, you weren’t the only person to enjoy the situation at hand. It took you a second to realize why that was – you were wearing his clothes.

You remembered Ryan telling you about what it felt like to him, seeing a girl – or a guy in his case – in his clothes. Like a flag on a flagpole, mark of ownership on a conquered land, he had told you.

No funny business had happened between you and Steve last night, but the thought still made your face hot all over. To cover your embarrassment, you ducked your head to Steve’s shoulder, resting your forehead on it.

Steve tensed at first, but quickly recovered and sank his fingers gently into your hair, very carefully caressing your scalp, wary of pulling at your hair and causing you pain. You hummed in appreciation, instinctively brushing the nearest patch of skin with your lips – an inked patch of skin. You smiled against your will at that. Your words. Your ridiculous first words to him.

His breath caught in his throat at your bold move, but a kiss landed at the top of our head, so you figured you didn’t overstep.

“How much do you hate morning breath?” he muttered, sounding a bit embarrassed.

“Not particularly…?” you answered, not sure where that headed.

Looking back, you really should have understood what he was asking. Then again, the pleasant surprise of his fingers gently finding your jaw and tilting your head so he could kiss you right on the lips, warm and soft and sweet, was worth the lack of your brain function. You melted, your palm finding a way to lie flat on his very bare chest, feeling every expansion of his ribcage, his skin burning. He deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair enough to make you notice and boy, did it do things to you. You sighed into his mouth, content and yet needy for more, a second from climbing into his lap, too fast development be damned.

Just as you were out of breath, he released you, his thumb drawing a soft circle on your cheek. It was cliché, but your fingertips were literally tingling with euphoria and excitement.

“Wow,” you breathed out, still feeling his breath tickling your lips as he had barely moved away. “Can I stay another night? Can I be woken up like this every morning?”

He gave a breathy laugh, making your eyes snap open, and you could see the blown black of his pupils, the gleam of wanting more now diluted with giddiness.

“Can’t say I’d complain,” he admitted with a lopsided smile radiant on his kiss-swollen lips.

God, he was so handsome. Had you mentally noted he was handsome before? You still couldn’t believe it.

“That an invitation?”

“I mean, if you convince Tony…”

“Oh god, I take it back,” you groaned, falling back to the sheets dramatically, rewarded with Steve’s light-hearted laugh.

He laid down on his side then, propped on his elbow, watching you with a soft smile. “Thank you for staying.”

You let out what surely was a very unattractive snort. “’Cause not having to go home and not having to hail a cab in the middle of the night was a real sacrifice…”

Steve was fully grinning now, dropping a playful kiss on your nose, which caused you to giggle.

“I know, my lady. Let me make up for the hardship you had suffered through with making you breakfast.”

“You sound like Thor. Also, offering breakfast to a girl? You are a dangerous man, Steve Rogers,” you stated, the stupid smile simply not disappearing from your face no matter how much you tried to get it under control; so you gave up on that. “You seem to know just the way to my heart.”

“I sure hope so. Are you coming with the adorable bed-hair or do you want a minute?”

You gasped at the cheeky comment, grabbing the pillow by his head to smack his stupidly perfect skull.

His laughter filled the room and you felt like the happiest person on Earth.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

When Steve led you to the communal kitchen and dining room ten minutes later, you were surprised to find three people already there. Clint was sitting at the bar, his head resting in his palm, a mug of coffee hazardously close in your opinion, just in case he would actually fell asleep and faceplanted on the counter; Bruce was sitting nearby, watching over him, while Natasha was standing at the cooker, making…

“Are those pancakes?” you gasped, your stomach instantly reacting to the smell, making you squirm in humiliation. Steve at your side chuckled, while Natasha grinned at you.

“Yep. There’s enough for you too. Unless Steve wants to impress you with his own cooking skills,” she teased and winked at him. He smiled bashfully in return.

“I mean… maybe next time? Since you already started…”

“Oh-ho, so there will be a next time?” Clint wolf-whistled, startling you with both the question and sudden sign of life.

“Let them be…. Coffee?” Bruce beckoned to the pot. You bit you lip bashfully. You didn’t want to be rude, but coffee… “Or maybe tea?”

You lighted up. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

“I’ll do it,” Steve hurried before the other man could rise from his seat. He pecked your temple. ”You go sit.”

“Yes, sir…”

Looking around, you weren’t sure where to. Between Bruce and Clint? Next to Clint since Bruce was at the bar stool at the end of the counter?

“You can sit next to Clint. It’s safe. This is his second mug of coffee,” Natasha supplied helpfully and you frowned in confusion. Perhaps an inside joke. “Yes, he is dangerous before he finishes his first.”

“Hey!” the man in question complained, but rolled his eyes for your benefit. “That’s actually accurate. You can sit here, I don’t bite.”

“He’s just a pain in everyone’s ass.”

“Morning to you too, Stark,” Clint saluted him and a mug of tea landed in front of you, soon followed by a stack of pancakes.

“You’re gonna spoil me. Thank you,” you said in earnest.

Natasha waved it off, while Steve let out a simple “Planning on it.”

“So you didn’t spoil her last night?” the billionaire hummed casually, pouring himself a coffee. Your eyes widened and you rather started eating to avoid an answer. Steve only sighed.

Neither of you replied, which earned you some raised eyebrows.

“She seems right at home in his clothes, huh?” Clint added and you shot him a look, mortified. Him too?

“She does, doesn’t she? Sign of a successful night?”

Steve grinded his teeth at Stark’s latest remark, turning a bit red in his face. You sipped your tea, figuring out a sassy response.

“Very successful. I slept like a baby. Sleeping duty fulfilled,” you announced and noticed that Bruce’s lips twitched as if he was holding back a smile. You continued. “That will be all, thank you for your questions. For further information, contact our PR department. ….Ouch, we don’t have one, looks like it’s none of your business then. Too bad…”

Tony’s mouth was theatrically hanging open, his hand clutching his chest and Clint’s eyes seemed rounder than a moment before; then again, that could just be because of the amount of caffeine in his system. Natasha chuckled, positioning a plate in front of Steve – his stack of pancakes was visibly taller and you wondered just how much he had to eat.

Speaking of Steve, he was smugly grinning into his mug. “I have nothing to add.”

“Still though. She’s like… shining or something. That’s released endorphins, I can tell. Good job, Cap.”

You internally whined.

If they keep that up, staying overnight is gonna start feeling like a sacrifice.

“Play nice, boys,” Natasha scolded them and you smiled at her gratefully. “Let the poor girl eat. She’s gotta make up for the calories Steve helped her burn…”

“You too?” you burst out simultaneously with Steve and Natasha raised her hands in a harmless gesture.

“I meant when you were dancing. What did you think I was talking about?” she asked innocently and everyone in the room but you two laughed.  

“I hate you,” Steve mouthed at her and she just winked in return, turning her attention back to her cooking.

You wished for the Earth to swallow you, but you liked the teasing air hovering above the group of friends. You smiled reassuringly at Steve, stroking him arm shortly.

“It’s okay, Steve. I still like you despite your annoying friends,” you emphasized the last words, which was followed by affective aww from Clint, Tony and Natasha.

Steve smiled at you, apologetic and kind. “Thanks, doll. You’re the best.”

To show his appreciation, he kissed your cheek, the innocent gesture drawing a wolf-whistle from Tony.

“Get a room!”

You just rolled your eyes and stole a quick peck from Steve’s lips for a good measure. He tasted like coffee; it seemed you might grow fond of that taste after all.

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Despite all the odds, everyone survived breakfast. They teased you once more after you asked about Thor, learning he had left in early morning because of an urgent matter on Asgard. After all, he was son of the King. And an Alien. And a demigod. Apparently, you knew those now. What an insanity your life became in such a short time.

The team went separate ways after the meddling over the most important meal of the day. Steve stayed with you, of course, showing you around the Tower. You marvelled at the view and despite having a tiny fear of heights, you agreed to Steve taking you outside at the top.

It was incredible. You found yourselves basically on the top of the world, steps slightly shaky, but with Steve’s firm reassurance. You trusted him not to let you fall. So trying to keep your mind of the potential life-ending fall, you busied your mind with how touchy-feely Steve quickly became after sharing the first kiss yesterday night. You loved it.

When you came to a stop, you were unable to resist the urge to spread your arms and let the gentle wind play with your hair and rather loose clothes; Steve’s hands found their way to your hips to steady you. Slowly, he moved further, his fingers running in a feather-light touch over your arms and threading his fingers with yours.

You giggled and dared to lean onto him with your back, testing the waters. His lips brushed your cheek and you couldn’t but turn your head, catching his mouth with yours in a searing kiss. He was so sweet. You trusted him with your life, knowing he would never allow you to even stumble, and yet you were falling, falling for him so hard. The realization was overwhelming.

How could you be… falling in love so fast?

Steve gently squeezed your fingers, brining your joined hands to your waist and you decided you didn’t care and let the kiss consume you.

When you finally parted, your eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Put Titanic on your list, huh?” you murmured, your brain turned into a useless mass of lovesick jello.

Laughter was twinkling in Steve’s eyes. “Not really. It’s a perk of the movie nights, we take turns in who’s picking.”

You frowned in confusion. “Who chose Titanic?”

For some reason, Natasha didn’t strike you the type. Clearly, you were right, because Steve chuckled.

“Clint.”

You burst out laughing, Steve soon joining you. You wondered if the whole Manhattan could hear you. Once again, you had no care in the world.

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Part 6

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Tags:

@cxptain​ @mermaidxatxheart @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings​@irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall​ @eliza5616​, @rayofdawnworld  @victor-criss-bish​ @skychild29​  @elysianecho​ @simmisblog​ @scentedsongrebel​ @orions-nebula​, @sergeantrosabellaswan​ @songofcosplay​, @ilovesupersoldiers​ @wxstedhexrt @silver-winter-wolf @nova3312​

Tags are open, you want in or out, let me know :))

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I actually had to split it into two parts, because it was waaay to much fluff in one go an that coming from me?  You better believe it!

Thank you for reading. Attempt at humour will come later, promise ;)

[agoodgoddamnshot]

Mine - Geralt/Jaskier

[Gif isn’t mine]

Originally posted on my AO3 account

It’s around this time where Jaskier would be chased out of bed by someone or other. A cuckolded spouse, a betrothed, or even a parent or a guardian.

That’s if he even stayed, of course. More often than not, the spouse was always somewhere nearby. And despite Jaskier’s affinity for putting himself in danger an alarming amount of times, he is actually quite fond of keeping his life, and wants to keep it going for as long as he can.

On the occasions where he did stay, he made sure to wake before the sun and be gone before it had even peered over the horizon. He loves a lot of people. He isn’t going to lie and say that he doesn’t form some sort of deeper attraction to people. Sometimes it’s their smiles, or the way the colours of their eyes are more complex up close. Sometimes it’s the way they laugh or sing along with him when he plays in taverns or in courts.

But what he has now, with Geralt, it’s deeper than all of that.

It’s been almost a year. And even with all of that time behind him, some part of his brain will still wake him early in the morning. When the first of the morning sun’s light creeps along the floorboards of their room for the night, he wakes to find himself still ensnared firmly in Geralt’s arms. Peering over his shoulder, Jaskier grins at the sight of the Witcher still peacefully sleeping and hair skewed. The Witcher doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, it drags him under and almost drowns him.

Jaskier settles back into the embrace. It’s nice, not having to plan an escape route either through the hallways of the tavern, or even out of the window. Geralt shuffles slightly; a Witcher-y sense of his registering the slight change in Jaskier’s breathing. His arms around the bard tighten, holding him firmly against his chest. Soft, gentle puffs of breath warm the back of Jaskier’s neck.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

Jaskier absolutely does not whine. He does, though, sigh so sharply that it reminds him of being a teenager. He’ll have to answer the door. It’s no one from downstairs. Neither of them asked for a bath to be brought up. And they all agreed that they would get breakfast together downstairs later in the morning. The ride to the village was a long one; and with winter coming, even a normally short journey seems much longer and exhausting.

He slowly worms his way out of the hold around him, which is easier said than done. Geralt is clingy. Even if he manages to get out of his hold and move to sit at the edge of the bed, hands will paw at his back or hips and drag him back to bed if they manage to find a grip.

But Geralt seems too far gone in sleep to try and chase Jaskier now. As soon as he removes himself from the Witcher’s embrace, he shivers. Winter winds are becoming that much more biting as the weeks go by. That, and Jaskier is totally bare from last night. Sighing again, Jaskier grabs the first thing he sees, pulling it haphazardly over himself while also trying to not trip on discarded breeches and boots from the night before as he staggers over to the door. The tunic is oversized, almost slipping off a shoulder, but it’s long enough length-wise to get to his mid-thigh.

“Oh,” Jaskier blinks as he wrenches the door open. “Hi.”

Yennefer’s eyes drop down to his torso. A ghost of a smile shadows her lips. “I knew it,” she shakes her head. “Ciri wants to go to the market,” she glances over Jaskier’s shoulder, an eyebrow arching. “I can take her, if you’re both occupied.”

Jaskier’s mouth opens and closes for a second. For the first time in a long time, he can’t find anything worth saying. “Um,” he eventually manages to get out. Rubbing the back of his neck, he nods. “Yeah, it’s just that, um, Geralt is still asleep, and I’m,” he gestures vaguely to himself.

Yennefer lifts her chin. A smile fully curls along the length of her lips. “I’ll take her then.”

Jaskier nods. “Thanks.”

She waves him off, walking back down the hallway to her own room. They had enough coin for two rooms – one for him and Geralt, and another for Yennefer and Ciri. Ever since they found the sorceress a few days ago, dazed and battle-worn, wandering along a main road, Ciri has been by her side in every waking moment. She still adores both Geralt and Jaskier with everything she has, but there are times were Yennefer’s company is preferred. Gods know why, Jaskier thinks.

Jaskier shuts the door. He stands in front of it for a moment. I knew it.

It’s not like he and Geralt are shy with their affections. And Yennefer is the most observant person that Jaskier has ever met.

He pads back through the room, slipping back into bed. He tries not to disturb the mattress too much, but there’s a soft sigh of breath from the body on the other side. “Who was it?” The question is almost entirely lost into the pillow.

Jaskier settles back against his pillow. “Yennefer. Ciri wants to go to the market, and she offered to take her.”

Geralt hums. He turns. An arm reaches out for Jaskier, pawing blindly for a moment until he has the bard’s waist ensnared. A silent order to lie back down and go the fuck to sleep.

The Witcher’s hand rests over his abdomen. His fingers curl slightly, into the fabric of the tunic. Geralt lifts his head. A small frown suddenly creases his brow. “You’re wearing my shirt.” It’s not entirely a statement, but not a question either.  

And glancing down at himself, yeah, Jaskier thinks, he is wearing Geralt’s shirt. It was the first thing he grabbed from the floor. He didn’t notice before, but the shirt smells like the Witcher. “I suppose I am,” he says quietly, looking up at the man. His expression is totally unreadable. Jaskier reaches up, gently tucking a strand of Geralt’s hair back behind his ear. “I was hardly going to answer the door naked,” he says, a bit indignantly.

Geralt grunts. Jaskier can feel his face starting to warm. The Witcher is looking at him, unblinking, running amber eyes up and down his body. The shirt is certainly different from anything he usually wears. Form-fitting clothes in silks and linen, bright colours that are a more common sight in a royal court than out on the road. He and Geralt are almost the same height, but the Witcher is bigger. His shirt hangs off of one shoulder entirely, while the neck, slightly unbuttoned, leaves a deep V, revealing some of his chest.

Jaskier trails his fingers down the arch of Geralt’s cheekbone. “Could you...stop staring at me, please?” he asks. “Or at least, say something. You look insane.”

He doesn’t, for a time. Geralt’s fingers reach out and trail along the stretch of Jaskier’s collarbone. He moves the fabric of the shirt out of the way when it blocks his view of Jaskier’s skin. It’s terrain the Witcher knows all too well; nights have been spent tracking freckles that are flicked throughout Jaskier’s body; every stretch of skin mapped by fingers and lips.

But Geralt’s eyes drift away from his skin to the shirt. Most of the laces aren’t even done up properly, let alone strung together. Geralt loosens those that are, exposing more of Jaskier’s chest. He fights the urge to throw a hand over himself. Really Geralt, the words try and fight up through his throat. I’m allowed to have some dignity.

Then again, one word from the Witcher, and Jaskier would have the shirt off and flung over to some corner of the room.

Instead, there’s a small purring sound that comes out of the Witcher’s throat. “You should wear my clothes more often,” Geralt says gruffly, scooping an arm around Jaskier and lying back down.

Jaskier could make the argument that Geralt doesn’t own a lot of clothes to begin with. Though, that would leave Geralt in a perpetual state of being shirtless – and honestly, it’s an idea that sits quite well with him. Except for other people’s eyes perhaps straying to where they shouldn’t. Geralt wouldn’t pay them any mind, of course. Even now, when he is fully clothed, and they both sit in taverns idly drinking or eating away some of their hard-earned coin, Geralt always has an arm slung around the bard’s shoulders or waist. Or when they sit side by side, their hands will brush against each other’s.

There has always been this constant contact between them. Even during the night, if they weren’t touching before sleep washed over them, by the time they woke the next morning, it’s difficult to tell where one of them begins and another ends.

Geralt buries his nose into Jaskier’s hair. The long sigh that leaves him means that sleep hasn’t wandered far away; it’s intent on lapping over him again. It pulls at Jaskier too. Geralt is so warm, that any chill of the crisp morning outside. And bundled in the Witcher’s arms, underneath a collection of cotton blankets and furs lining the foot of the bed, he’s finding it harder and harder to stay awake.

He turns his head, burying his nose into Geralt’s neck. One of the Witcher’s hands slips underneath the tunic, resting on the small of Jaskier’s back. Geralt hums. “I do prefer you without clothes, though."

[the-awkward-outlaw]

what abt one where you try to console Arthur after his breakup from Mary and one thing leads to another

Mm, this one turned out hot. Also, fuck Mary. She pisses me off. 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Warnings: smut

Arthur’s been in his room for a while. Too long in your opinion and you’re beginning to worry. He was out in Saint Denis all yesterday and this morning, but when he came back about an hour ago, he was unusually distant. Sure, Arthur’s not a talker, but he almost always wanders camp, chipping into conversations and he always comes to see you. Not today though. Something’s wrong. 

You’ve been trying to sneak into the big manor for some time to go and talk to him. After all, you’re his best friend (and you’re secretly in love with him). If anyone’s going to coax him to talk about what’s bothering him, you can. However, you’re pretty much being kept prisoner to this damn crate by Grimshaw. She’s mad because you spent a week straight out with Arthur, wandering from Strawberry to Annesburg. It doesn’t even matter to her that you both came laden with pelts, meat, provisions and even a few hundred bucks to contribute to camp. She says you should’ve been helping around camp with the other girls. Whenever you’ve tried sneaking away, she’s swooped down on you like a massive hawk on an unsuspecting squirrel. 

However, when Arthur came back, Karen saw how desperately you wanted to go see him. She knew something was wrong too. She was already nearly a bottle down on whiskey, so she did you the favor of getting herself even more drunk. You’ve been watching her. Grimshaw gets incredibly angry when Karen is drunk. As she drinks more and more, getting deeper in, Grimshaw marches over. 

“What the hell you doin’, girl? You’re supposed to be workin’, not drinkin’ enough to sink a saloon!”

“Ah, shut up, you old bat!” Karen hollers back. 

The two quickly descend into a heated argument, giving you the opportunity to sneak away and into the house. As you scurry off, you swear Karen gives you a wink, but maybe she’s so drunk that she can’t operate her eyelids properly anymore. Hard to tell. 

Finally, you get to the second floor without any problems. Slowly, you open the door to Arthur’s room. He’s lying on his back in the bed, an arm draped over his eyes. 

“Arthur?” you say quietly. 

He lifts his head and spots you. His face falls more, but he sits up. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“You okay? You seem down.” 

You take a seat next to him on the bed. He clasps his hands between his knees, his elbows on his thighs, but his eyes are planted on the ground. 

“What happened?” 

He sighs. “Not really much of anything, but… God, I’m such a damn fool.” 

You hesitate, dying to comfort him. You’ve been friends for years and you’ve had a crush on him for ages. You can’t even name how many nights you’ve pretended to be enfolded in his arms, and how many nights you’ve touched yourself, pretending it was him. Hell, you’ve even called out his name. Slowly, you reach over and grab his hand. He looks up at you, surprised. 

“Arthur, you’re not a fool. You’re smart, brave, funny. I’ve seen you take pity on people, even when they haven’t deserved it. Please, tell me what happened.” 

He sighs and squeezes your hand. “I, uh, went and saw Mary. She wrote to me again.” 

“Mary? I thought she wouldn’t contact you again again after you got her brother back?” 

You knew all about that of course. You were the only one Arthur confided that into. One of the benefits of being such close friends for so many years. 

“I didn’t either, but she did. Said she wanted to see me again.” 

“And what did she want this time? She need you to go scare some other people again?” 

He sighs and you can’t tell if he’s smiling as his face is still pointed to the floor. “Yes. Guess her daddy was provin’ once again how much he don’t care for his family. He sold her mother’s broach so I went and got it back. Then, she had the nerve to ask me to go to a show.” 

“She asked you out on a date? I thought you two weren’t sweet on another?” You fail to hide the pain from your voice. 

“I didn’t think we were, or she was anyways. I… like I said, I’m a damn fool. When I’m not around her, I don’t really want nothin’ to do with her. Mostly because I…” he pauses and squeezes your hand again. “But when I’m around her, it’s like I can’t really control myself. She knows exactly how to play and manipulate me. So yeah, I went on a date with her. Whole thing felt wrong. And then… she asked me to run away with her.” 

Your heart drops. Shit, is he only here to collect his things and then disappear with her? The thought breaks your heart. You know exactly how much you’ve come to depend on him and it scares you that he would so easily and willingly abandon the gang and you. It hurts too. Can you tell him the truth? 

“So… you’re just here to gather your things, I’m guessing?” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. 

He looks up at you finally. “Course not. I have people to take care of. I… I told her I had someone waitin’ for me.” 

Your stomach suddenly becomes alive with butterflies. “And what did she say?” 

He sighs again and looks back at the floor. “She didn’t take it too well. She… she called me some bad things. Was convinced that I lied to her, played her.” 

“Well that’s rich, coming from her!” 

He huffs a small laugh. “That’s what I told her. Only made her more mad though. She started sayin’ the same ol’ bullshit, that she shoulda had my hung a long time ago, that she should turn me in now.” 

“She wouldn’t, would she?” 

He huffs again. “She said that all the time when we was datin’ as kids. It was all garnish though, never had any weight to it. I expect it’s the same now. She only says it because she’s mad and wanted to… well, convince me to do things her way.” 

You smile and squeeze his hand again. “Well, if anyone’s the fool, Arthur, she is.”��

“Oh she definitely is a fool, mostly for putin’ in good years on a no-good outlaw.” 

You frown a bit. “Arthur, I’ve been with you for a few years now. I don’t think I’ve invested my time unwisely.” 

“Then maybe you’re a fool too. You’d be a lot smarter to stay away from me, darlin’. I ain’t no good. I ain’t got much good in me.” 

You can tell Arthur needs a morale boost, but you’re not quite sure what to say. Suddenly a thought strikes you. 

“Arthur… can I do something? I wanna show you what I feel about you. And, well, considering you and Mary dated for so long, something tells me she never did anything like this for you.” 

He looks up at you. “What you talkin’ about?” 

You smile and slide off the bed, going to your knees and placing yourself in front of him. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek. You rub his stubbled jaw for a moment, his eyes sparkling with… what is that? Excitement? Finally you lean in and kiss his lips. Oh God, how you’ve wanted to do this for so long. He doesn’t pull away, instead his hand plants on the back of your neck. His mouth moves with yours and his warm breath washes over your face. 

After a moment, you pull away. “Arthur,” you whisper, “let me show you how I feel about you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You smile. “Like I said, let me show you.” 

He gives you a stiff nod and you smile, going back in for another kiss. As you do, your hands go to work on his shirt, undoing his buttons. Your lips follow your fingers, tracing his naked skin as you work your way downwards. Damn, he’s good looking, with hair in just the right places. You saw him shirtless once when he was bathing in a river, but you weren’t close enough then to truly appreciate his body. His built, but not overbuilt. 

Finally you get to his pants. He’s breathing hard and you can see him straining against his jeans. As you’re undoing his gunbelt, he groans. 

“God, darlin’.” 

This urges you on and you quickly unbutton his pants and reach a hand in to stroke him. Damn, he is firm. You feel a familiar pulsing between your own legs, so you pull him out and stare shamelessly at his cock. He’s thick, a long vein running down his entire length. You start pumping him, slowly, and watching him grow even more. He groans again and leans back, planting his hands on the bed. 

You’re filled with an urge to pleasure him. He needs the release. This poor man has been working so hard with so little thanks. He’s more than earned this. You look up at him and his eyes are closed as your hands work. 

“Arthur, I want you to look at me,” you say. His head tips forward and his eyes open. When you’ve got his attention again, you smile. 

After pumping him two more times, you slowly dip down towards his cock. You run your tongue from the base of his length all the way down to his head. He shivers beneath you, a hiss escaping his lips. His cock pulses hot and hard. You wrap your lips around his head and begin sucking, tickling just the tip. His hips buck a little, but you can tell he’s trying so hard to control himself. Slowly, you slip more of him into your mouth. He’s beginning to pant as you bob against him. 

“Oh my God,” he groans, making you smile. You pull him from your mouth with a small pop and then you stand up. His eyes find yours with a silent plea, begging you to continue. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Morgan. I’m gonna take good care of you.” 

You quickly take off your clothes, but make sure to give him a show. A few moments later, you’re standing stark naked in front of him, letting his eyes rake over your body. You grab his shoulder and guide him to lie down on the bed before sliding your leg over him to straddle his hips. His cock’s still standing, eager for your center. 

You grab his length once more and give it a few pumps, bringing it back to full erection once more. Then, you angle him towards your slit and then sit down on his hips. It’s your turn to groan as his cock spreads your walls. His hands go to your hips and squeeze, then they slide up to grab your breasts. You put your hands on his and begin thrusting your hips, your eyes meeting his. His cheeks are flushed pink, like your own, but his eyes are glued to yours. 

You bounce on his hips, trying to bring him to his release, which he so badly needs. He’s panting beneath you, which says that he’s close. His own hips are thrusting up into your pelvis, burying his cock deeper into you. He suddenly brushes your spot, making you gasp. This seems to encourage him as he bucks harder, brushing it more and more. You start to pant on top of him. 

Without warning, Arthur suddenly grabs you, flips you onto your back and plows right back into you. He pumps himself hard against you, making the whole bed move. God, you hope no one can hear this, but you kind of don’t care. He takes your right knee and brings it up, wrapping your leg around him to give him a better angle. His cock goes even deeper into you and he starts kissing your neck. You can feel your own orgasm beginning to peak, but you want to chase his. He’s more than earned it. 

As he’s plowing into you, he starts losing his rhythm. He groans into your neck. 

“I want ya to cum to me, darlin’,” he growls in your ears. 

“Arthur,” you pant. “This… this is about you. Don’t… worry about… me.” 

He smiles and kisses your lips. “God I been wantin’ to do this so long.” His hand glides down your body and down to your slit. You want him to touch you there but know he shouldn’t. Just as you’re about to say something, his fingers brush over your clit. This makes you tilt your head back, groaning as your hips angle up into him. 

With his fingers stroking your clit and his cock brushing on your spot, it only takes seconds before your back arches, your toes curl and your fingers dig into his back. 

“Arthur!” you yelp as your orgasm rips through your body. He sucks on your neck and his fingers continue stroking your clit, prolonging your release. Your center pulses around his cock, almost painfully so. You haven’t orgasmed with a man inside you in many years. 

As you pulse around him, he groans and pushes harder into you. As you settle down beneath him, he suddenly thrusts the hardest he’s done and then he quickly pulls out. Just in time as his cock releases his spend, spreading over your stomach. He grunts loudly as he releases, but then he opens his eyes and looks down at you, covered in his juices. 

“Sorry, darlin’,” he grunts. He bends down and grabs a cloth, cleaning you up. 

“I ain’t complaining, Arthur. That was… damn. I’m gonna admit something: I’ve imagined doing this with you but I never thought it could be that good.” 

He chuckles, throwing the cloth across the room. “I doubt that, darlin’. I’m very out of practice.” 

“As am I, Arthur, so it works out. Maybe you and I… can make this a regular thing?” 

He smiles and bends down to kiss you again. “I’d like that. Thank you.”