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writingsbychlo · 2 years

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Hii, here comes the ask for a part 2 to the AMAZING Gwynriel friendship fic🤍 I think Az would go crazy living under the same roof as his mate and best friend😂😂 these two would grew so close really fast and annoy him just for fun (deep down Az would love it!)

here we goooo, I hope you guys love this as much as the other bit, a follow-up to this post

azriel stared up at the ridiculous mating gift from rhysand, unsure whether he wanted to roll his eyes or smile. he settled for both. your hand squeezed tightly around his own, and he squeezed back, the excited chatter between you in his best friend providing a soundtrack to the sight before him. this was his first time, gwyn's too, seeing the house, the large three-story mansion designed to look like a cosy cottage despite its size, and he wanted to scoff at how eccentric his friend had been. not your first time seeing it, though.

almost two years ago, azriel had come home to yet another ambush on you, to find you sitting at the kitchen table, coffee mug clutched between your hands as rhysand sat before you, lounging in the creaky kitchen chairs. your eyes had been wide, breath practically held, and he frowned at the look on your face. you'd known who he was, who his friends were, the same way they'd known of him, but other than cassian, you'd never met them. never mind rhysand, who was looking unnecessarily high lord-like as he sat before you.

whatever you'd been talking about, he hadn't been told, his brother had simply offered his congratulations with a wink, invited you both to a family dinner the following week, and left with a friendly kiss to your cheek and a conspiratorially loud whisper to 'consider his offer' before he'd vanished into darkness and stars.

now, you were standing before him, the offer rhysand had laid out standing tall before him in a composition of pretty old bricks and stones and acres of lush land, and one of his brows rose. you'd told him, less than a week ago, curled up against his chest and panting in the afterglow, kissing along his tattoos in ways that made his head spin. his hands had been slipping down your body, cupping your ass and pulling you over him to start again when you giggled. 'we don't have time, gwyn will be home soon.'

he hated it, and he hated that he hated it. a wave of guilt rippled down the bond. he knew what his best friend had been through, and that the moment he asked, she'd have left the two of you alone, found her own place. in fact, she had offered, and you'd shut her down the second she'd brought it up awkwardly over breakfast, insisting that she stay with the two of you in the now rather cramped apartment. it had made him feel like his whole chest was clenching in as he watched you take his best friend's hands, and promise she always had a place with you both.

but now, he was spending so much time sneaking around, grabbing any little bit of intimate time with you he could, but you were now mated, mating ceremony passe,d his wrong sitting on your finger and a tattoo bound around both of your wrists, never to disappear, promises made to one another. but, the apartment was already too small, and he felt nothing but guilt as he thought about a future somewhere else with you, rooms for your own children, enough space for their childhood and their memories, not the attic full of boxes they had now, overflow things that had to be put away instead of appreciated and seen.

'we need a new place.' he eventually spoke the words, feeling even worse for saying them out loud, and you only raised your head, kissing under his jaw until he smiled.

'what if we already have one?' you didn't give him a chance to ask, rolling away and taking the sheet with you, wrapping yourself in it and leaving him bare as you padded away to the bathroom. 'just give me a few more weeks, and I'll tell you it all'. he trusted you, so he let himself forget about it, until now.

"this is insane!" gwyn muttered, waving her hands enthusiastically at the house before your small group. "rhysand built this for you?"

"well, not with his own hands, but we had some ideas, we got some help, and this was the result." you shrugged, and azriel looked down at you, shooting a shock down the bond at your coy deception, but you only grinned at the feeling. rhysand had offered him much to celebrate his mating bond, and azriel had shut it all down. he didn't want anything more, at the time, he hadn't needed anything more, and somehow, just like always, you'd known what he needed long before he did. you and gwyn were far too similar that way. "so, do you guys want the tour, or shall we stand out here all day? I mean, it's getting kind of cold.."

despite knowing you were being sarcastic, the instinctive urge to protect you flared up, and azriel slipped his wing around you, tugging you closer to his side. you only grinned, tipping your head away with a laugh when he dipped down to bite at the shell of your ear playfully. he followed you as you guided them up the pathway, a large and heavy oak double door, wide enough for him to pass through without ducking or tucking his wings in, and the first jolt of warmth at your consideration of him ran through his veins.

open-plan, arched doorways, empty and ready to be decorated but utterly beautiful. he could feel traces of you in every room, from the carvings on the porch posts to the bay window seats for reading, and a dining room big enough to fit his whole family comfortably, or host the bookclubs you and gwyn had taken to hosting every week.

there was your room, large, space for a bed so big his wings wouldn't touch the edges even fully extended, so much storage he could display every trinket and memory he'd ever collected that were currently boxed up, a guest room, and another. cassian would doubtless claim one to be dedicated to himself in no time.

there were rooms for future children, an office for him to work from without his papers spreading all over the kitchen table, and a bathtub big enough for you both. a living room with a large fireplace hidden from sight, enough to carry heat throughout the whole house without him ever having to see the flames, and he'd excused himself to inspect the glass-walled conservatory to hide the choked-up tears.

he'd left you and gwyn in the living room, talking about a bookcase dedicated to the smutty bookclub you banned him from attending, knowing now he could simply retreat to your bedroom to give you privacy, more than two floors between you all now. he could picture a coffee table, one he would build himself, and two large armchairs, a space to sit and drink your coffee together every morning, staring out at the large garden that was sprawling behind it.

pretty structures sat even out there. a pergola sat on a stone patio, surrounded by flowers, a firepit sat in the middle for cold nights. a shed, a flower garden, benches along the bushes and under the trees, and finally, tucked away into the back, a small build. bigger than a shed, built with its own bricks and stones, a small covered porch out the front of it, a pathway leading all the way to it, lit with small glowing faelights that would come alive in the dark.

warm arms wrapped around his waist, like he'd drawn you to him with his curiosity, and his wings flared slightly to make space for you as you pressed a kiss to the clothed spot between them.

"what's that?"

he pointed out, gwyn following his gaze, and the feeling of your excitement washed over him in waves, radiating in his chest. "that's one of the best parts. do you want to see it?"

you didn't wait for an answer, unwrapping yourself from him and unlocking the wide doors of the conservatory, sliding them aside and stepping out onto the path. gravel crunched underneath your feet, his own and gwyn's too as they followed you, until you were standing under the porch. unlocking a matching door to the front, but a single, smaller, he had to duck a little to step inside, light glowing softly as it sensed your presence. almost the whole of the small bungalow was open plan, kitchen melting into a large room, a fireplace on one wall, an arched doorway leading to another empty room, a bedroom, a door sealed against the wall. presumably a bathroom.

"a.. guest house?"

"no." you took azriel's hand, watching gwyn step forward to explore, running her fingers over the crafted wood of the mantle. you leaned in, cheek pressed against his bicep as you held them both hanging in anticipation, absorbing the beautiful but empty interior. "you like it, gwyn?"

"I love it, it's beautiful. what's it for?"

"you." she paused, twisting to face you, and azriel stiffened a little at your words, shock taking him over.

"me?"

"well, of course. you didn't think I was going to build a house with no place for you, did you?" her eyes watered, rippling like the oceans they resembled so ethereally. she took a few steps forward, back towards you, reaching out to clasp your hands in her own. azriel felt like he couldn't breathe, like he didn't know exactly how he'd been so lucky, to land a mate who understood and accepted every part of him this way.

"you want me to stay with you?"

"only if you want to." he knew you knew, azriel had come home to find you crying in the bathtub over a year ago, and when he'd asked what was wrong, you'd wept for gwyn, who'd finally told you the whole truth of why she lived with azriel, that he'd made her feel safe, and she was still so filled with doubt about going back into the world that last tie she'd tried, a panic attack had brought her right back. "if you don't, I'm sure cassian will call dibs before I even finish tell him about it."

"well, sucks to be cassian, because this is mine." she sniffled a little, looking around the space in awe, wiping not so discreetly at her tears when he back was to you both. azriel twisted, lifting a wing to shield you both from sight as he cupped your face with both hands.

"you made a space for gwyn."

"of course, I did." he swiped a thumb over your cheekbone, other hand slipping down to pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "you think we're leaving her behind? she belongs with us."

he shook his head, swallowing down thickly on the lump of emotion wedged there. "kiss me, right now."

"well, if you insist, shadowsinger." you grinned, arms wrapping around his neck, tugging yourself up to his level until you were pressing your lips to his. he let himself sink into his, holding you close to him, drowning in the way it felt to have a mate, someone so perfectly matched to him, someone who he never had to hide from. it surprised him every time, this feeling shocked him to his core, made him feel electrified every time he thought about it too much. you were his, all of this was his, he wasn't sure he'd ever done anything to deserve it but he would fight 'til his last breath to keep it.

"nope! none of that in my new place." pulling away with a groan, azriel lowered his wing, peeking over the top to see his best friend grinning at him cheekily, hands on her hips as he tutted. you sank down, face pressing into his chest to hide your laughter, moment shattered.

"you're such a cockblock, gwyn."

"hey, you have your own place now, go back to it. I don't want my new place to reek of your arousal within five minutes of me getting it." she shooed the pair of you away, as though she'd owned it forever, and you reached into your pocket, handing over the key to her before he was being pushed out onto the porch with you in his arms. "I have paint colours to plan."

"oh, mother help us, this room is going. to look like a rainbow threw up in it." azriel felt his face scrunch up, and gwyn offered a crude gesture to him, before slamming the door in his face. your presence was all that grounded him, ready to start a bickering match with her, but you were pulling him back up the path to your own house.

"I think, we should go bed shopping. we have space for a much bigger bed now," he smirked at you, following your lead toward the garden gate.

"I like the way you think, my love."

#azriel x reader

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crow-the-unknown · 1 year

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Killing Strangers - An Avalanche Mob AU from multiple POV's (Gabe's, Nate's, and Cale's) [part 4]

The sky was colored with deep reds, oranges, and pinks of sunset. The air was beginning to cool, the heat of the day starting to fade as the sun sank lower and lower into the sea. As the minutes ticked by, a blanket of near-black navy darkness covered the city in shadow and Gabe was alone. Gabe stared out at the sea, the dock beneath his feet swaying almost unnoticeably. He looked up into the sky, gazing at the few stars that were visible. The lights of the far away city danced on the still waters in swatches of red and blue and yellow. The moon was the barest sliver in the sky, and the golden bridge to the city was loud with the sound of cars even from this far away.

Gabe and a select group of the others had moved to the furthest outskirts of the city for this job, keeping everything discreet as possible. The less people knew the better. This could be their only chance at not only finding Nate, but also at finally making an impactful move against the Lightning. If anything went askew, it could mean death or worse. The grainy sound of wheels on asphalt was what pulled Gabe from his thoughts. Cale’s car pulled into the port and the engine cut leaving only silence.

Gabe turned towards the twenty-four year old who was now striding towards him, an odd look of determination in his still boyish features. It was strange, seeing him like this, so stoic and silently driven. Gabe felt, so insistently, that Cale was not here to just watch. He knew the look of a man with a violent plan— he had seen it many times in a mirror— and Cale had that look. It was a dangerous look, something jarring to see so deeply engraved in Cale’s expression. Gabe couldn’t decide if he felt completely unnerved or if he was proud. It might have been a mix.

Cale gave him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” muttered Gabe quickly.

Gabe turned to return to the building behind him, but he was stopped by Cale’s hand on his arm. He pulled Gabe aside before letting him go. Gabe waited patiently for Cale to gather his thoughts. The night was quiet, the sun now fully set and the world ahead of them only lit with bright, artificial light. Noises from the city carried over the water, but here nothing stirred. It was just him and Cale staring out at the sea, unspeaking. “What if we don’t find him?” Cale broke the silence.

Gabe looked at his shoes and put his hands in his pockets. The question lingered in the air like the bad aftertaste of fake sugar. Gabe scratched at his beard, thinking of what would be best to say. Anyone else would have given him support, reassurance, but Cale didn’t want that from Gabe. He never had. Cale only ever wanted honesty. So, Gabe replied with the most painfully truthful answer he had, “I don’t know.”

I don’t know, what a cruel joke. Gabe hated it. He hated being in the dark. He hated being vulnerable. His hand was being forced, and Gabe, for the first time in his life, was unsure of what to do. It terrified him.

Cale barely nodded in response before he turned on his heel and stormed away into the building behind him, his shattered watch glinting in the starlight. Gabe couldn’t tell why, but that almost felt final. This all felt… final. Gabe left the quiet splashing of the waves against black rock and followed Cale to what might be their end.

The door slammed shut behind him, and the idle chatting of the others filled the barely lit building. Gabe watched as Cale disappeared from the hall and turned into the large living room where his colleagues were. He stared at the wood panel wall, at the paintings hung slightly askew. Gabe slipped off his jacket and threw it against a flower-patterned armchair haphazardly before joining Cale in the elaborate, Victorian-esque room. Immediately, everyone went silent and turned their gaze to their boss. Gabe grinned, scanning over the men in their suits as they lounged on stools, couches, chairs, or whatever they could find and sipped on fancy glasses of whiskey.

“Well,” he began loudly, “what are you waiting for?”

Cale stood from where he’d been sitting on a tall stool at the room’s bar. He lifted his glass and dipped his head. Again, Gabe felt that strange sense of calm surety and promptly ignored it. Gabe pursed his lips, waiting a few moments longer. The silent excitement and unspoken possibility of violence was blood in water filled with sharks.

Cale was the one to finish Gabe’s words, short and bold, “Bring him in.”

Immediately, Val and Kurtis stood and exited the room. Cale took over, motioning— glass still in hand with a small amount of whiskey in the bottom— for some of the others to move away furniture. They obliged without complaint, everyone else sensing Cale’s determination just like Gabe had. No one dared acknowledge it.

Mikko was the only one to say a word to the distressed twenty-four year old. He waved off Artturi and laid a hand on Cale’s shoulder, expression kind. “We’ll find him,” he promised.

Cale’s hardened features snapped up, and for a moment Gabe thought that Mikko was about to get his head bitten off. Instead, Cale’s furrowed brows softened and he exhaled, his entire body seeming to unwind. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Mikko nodded and took his seat on the couch— that now was pushed against the wall instead of in the middle of the room— next to Artturi. Gabe leaned against the wall, impressed and he laughed at himself. Cale appeared to be managing the situation better than Gabe had thought he would. He looked calm, sure of himself in ways Gabe had never seen before. It was starting to catch Gabe off-guard, though maybe that was just because he knew that was something he could never do. Gabe led with violence, but Cale managed to lead peacefully. Gabe would be lying if he said that was something that he did not envy.

It was the tripping and shuffling of feet that took Gabe out of his thoughts and back to the room. Val and Kurtis held a blindfolded and gagged man up and practically threw him into the chair in the middle of the room. Gabe hitched in a breath, finally noticing that Cale was standing next to him. When did he get there? Gabe refocused on the task at hand, glad that Cale didn’t seem to notice him startling. Gabe watched closely as Val and Kurtis tied the Bolt to the chair and removed his blindfold.

He was a thin-faced man with a short sheaf of light brown hair. His jarring blue eyes shone with untouchable anger. Gabe wasn’t sure if he should be surprised at him not resisting anything. Men like him, men like Gabe, were raised cold. Val and Kurits moved away and took a seat once more, content to observe along with the others. Gabe searched the scrawny man’s features for any tells. He found none. Gabe cursed under his breath, this might be harder than he thought.

Gabe started rolling up his sleeves and stepped forward. Cale’s hand stopped him and Gabe turned to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. Cale's voice was quiet, but dark, as he leaned in and whispered, “Let me.”

Gabe’s face paled and dread sank like a stone in his chest. What?

Cale did not wait for his response, he took Gabe’s stunned look as confirmation. He slipped off his plaid suit jacket and threw it across the room, eyes trained solely on the Bolt before him. That man had answers, and he was going to get them from him. Cale moved with swift, calm determination. Gently, he removed the tape from the Bolt's mouth and asked, “What’s your name?”

The man’s lips drew into a thin line as he debated giving Cale any satisfaction. A few tense moments passed, the two simply staring each other down. Finally, the man gave in and responded curtly, “Corey.”

“Corey,” mused Cale with a small nod.

Cale looked at his wrist for a long moment, something sad and reminiscent written in his expression as if he were remembering a painful memory and moving past it. Then, to Gabe’s horror, Cale removed his broken watch. The clink it made as it hit the glass table beside him echoed in the silence. What the hell was the kid doing?

Cale turned back to Corey as he flicked out his pocket knife, the steel glinted in the warm light. He stared at it curiously, dangerously. No one dared say a word. The room was so incredibly quiet that Gabe could hear the out of sync ticking of Cale’s watch, laying discarded on the coffee table. For the first time in his life, Gabe felt true fear for another.

“Corey,” repeated Cale, his voice still kind like a mother trying to softly scold her child, “You’re going to tell me where they took Nate.”

Gabe wished he could forget the screaming that followed.

***

Nate was drenched with sweat, his nerves firing and his entire body stinging with unfamiliar pain. He could barely breathe, and everything seemed to be shaking. He could taste iron in his mouth as he bit back a scream and swore loudly. His hair was a mess, damp with perspiration and stuck in spots to his forehead. Finally, the round of electric shocks subsided and the constant pain ebbed away slowly. He panted heavily, trying to steady his voice as he looked up at the mix of Bolts and Red Wings before him, “What the hell do you want?”

The boss of the Lightning, who had short blonde hair with piercing blue eyes and was named Steven, folded his arms and smiled at Nate’s crazed state. Clearly he hadn’t expected Nate to be even more incensed and fired up at pain, but that really just showed that this was no personal matter. He wanted something from the Avalanche, and he knew that the best spot to strike would be right where they were strongest: Nate. It was a deadly smart move, Gabe had underestimated them. They all had.

Steven shrugged, explaining plainly, “The usual. Power, territory, money, a bit of glory. You have a reputation out west of the city, so we’re really just doing the other gangs around here a favor. Your ragtag group of nothings has been formidable, I’ll give you that...” Steven paused before continuing, “but, more than anything, you’ve been a nuisance. You raid warehouses of our allies like it's nothing. Those hold our possessions, the ones meant to be stored safely away and dispersed; and you take them or burn them without caring about the enemies you make. Your acts have cost us millions. All for what? More bloodshed.”

Nate grinned, his teeth red with blood. You’re just pissed off that in a matter of a few years we’ve become one of the most renowned gangs out there. Gabe’s going to tear you apart. I’m going to burn your organization to the ground.

Steven’s smile faded and he lunged forward, grabbing Nate by his collar. His cool eyes shone with anger, but Nate did not flinch. Tiredness and pain had made him careless, not talkative. Nate relished how much Steven clearly despised it. “You little prick,” the Lightning’s boss hissed.

He stepped away for a moment, breathing heavily. Then, he spun on his heel and struck Nate directly in his jaw. Nate’s vision blurred and he shook himself out of it. Steven paused for a moment, staring at Nate in disgust.

“He’s durable,” mused Larkin from a dark corner of the room.

“You want to try your hand at it?” spat Steven.

Nate laughed, “You know I’m not telling you shit, right? You’ve been doing this for how long? A week? Two? And yet, nothing. If you honestly think you can make me suffer enough for me to rat out my own people, then people haven’t spread the right rumors about me.”

Nate forced himself to smile as Steven struck him again and his nose began to bleed. He cracked tension from his neck, eyes glinting in the evening light that was filtering through the warehouse. Nate flexed his hands on the uncomfortable armrests of the chair. He wasn’t going to back down. He refused to. Not if there was still a chance at seeing the people he loved again. Nate filtered his pain, his want to give in, and forged it into sheer stubbornness.

“I. Don’t. Break,” emphasized Nate.

Steven shrugged his blue suit jacket into place and he smoothed down his tie after fixing the cuffs of his button-up. He’d stilled his features, but Nate could still sense the frustration radiating off him. Steven pushed back stray hands of his blonde hair and huffed, “We’ll see about that.”

Two men moved to do their usual routine of putting Nate back in his cell, but Steven waved them off casually. “No, no. Leave him here. Every man breaks at some point or another, even him.” He eyed Nate with disdain and something close to pity. “And he’s not going to last much longer despite what he thinks. I just want to help him along. A long night of cold, starvation, thirst, and no sleep should do it.”

Nate’s face fell and he scowled. Steven only smiled pridefully back.

“There it is! There’s the realization!” exclaimed Steven. “You’re alone here.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Nate threatened, ignoring how tired he was and how much he just wanted to stop and let himself die here. He couldn’t do that. If not for himself, then for Cale. Cale was why he needed to stay alive and fight; no matter how much he just wished they would stop and Nate could be freed from torture. The Lightning would just kill him if he told them anything, anyway. There was no good option but to wait.

Steven’s jaw ticked and his face went stern, no longer shadowed with fake pleasantry. “No you’re not,” he said plainly.

Then, he turned, exited the warehouse and was gone. Larkin went back up to his office as the sound of car doors slamming and engines starting echoed through the old building. Nate sat, bloody and alone. His ears were ringing, his clothes still damp with sweat. He felt feverish and everything stung, as if even the barest movement of air was a needle to his skin. The weather was getting cooler as the afternoon soon became evening. He was freezing and he was hot all at once. His head was pounding so badly he couldn’t think. Nate hung his head and let unconsciousness take him.

. . .

Cale’s laugh was gentle and familiar, “What are you doing?”

Nate smiled, poking at him playfully. “Taunting you.”

Cale pushed him back, cheeks redder than usual. Nate studied him affectionately, taking in the moment. They were on top of an apartment building, trying to stake out some spots for Gabe. It had gone horribly. They were too distracted with each other to do much good. The night was warm, premonitioning summer. Green vines snaked up and over the concrete and brick walls of the apartment, the street below was lit with warm and artificial lamplight. Everything was perfect. Life was peaceful.

“You’re such a pest, we’re supposed to be working,” huffed Cale.

Nate pulled Cale close, sitting down with him wrapped up into his arms. Cale laid his head against Nate’s chest, staring up at the stars with an inquisitive look on his face. He was beautiful, everything about him was. Nate laid his head on Cale’s, content to stay here forever. “You must love pests then,” whispered Nate.

Cale paused briefly, lips pursed. He nodded a little and turned to face Nate, sitting up slightly. “I guess I do,” he admitted.

Nate grinned and pulled Cale in for a quick kiss, Cale obliged him easily. Nate closed his eyes, feeling the spiky and short hairs at the back of Cale’s neck and rubbing through them with his fingers. Cale moved instinctively forward, pressing himself firmer against Nate. So much for a “quick” kiss. Nate could taste the faint traces of whiskey on Cale’s lips, could smell his subtle cologne. Cedar and eucalyptus, Nate registered. Cale only wore that for him, usually on special occasions. Was he forgetting something?

Nate slowly drew away, brow furrowed slightly. A small sense of dread creeped into his heart. This didn’t make sense. Gabe rarely let them work on stakeouts together, they never focused and he’d learned that years ago. So what was the special exception? Anniversary? No. Birthday? Definitely no…

“What’s up?” Cale asked, head tilted as he peered at Nate as if he were trying to undo him piece by piece and figure out what he was thinking.

Nate stammered, “N— nothing. I— huh. Am I forgetting something?”

“No,” laughed Cale. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s just—” Nate looked down at his scarred hands, frowning deeply— “it’s just that you only ever wear that cologne for special occasions. Gabe only lets us be out on a job together for special occasions. So, what I mean is, why are we here? This is just normal. This is just… us.”

Cale smiled warmly, eyes wrinkling in a painfully familiar way. He brushed his hand against Nate’s cheek delicately, yet something in his touch lacked warmth. “We’re here because you wanted me to be. Don’t you know?” Cale’s voice was still soft, but saddened in a way Nate couldn’t understand.

Pain began to bloom through Nate’s body, his joints feeling stiff and numb. He was missing something, but he couldn’t come up with what. Something told him he’d find out soon.

“Know what?” Nate questioned, trying not to panic as the world started going dark and Cale began slipping away from his conscious.

Cale’s tone didn’t shift, it stayed kind as he admitted, “I’m not real.”

Nate was awake. Cale was gone.

***

Cale’s breathing was shaky as he stared at his broken watch on the coffee table. The room was tense, everyone just waiting for him to move. The knife in his hand was a steady weight, deadly and precise. He straightened and met eyes with Corey, who only looked at him with hatred and something close to pity.

“You’re a joke,” he scoffed, “I know the look of a boy who hasn’t killed before. You don’t have it in you. And I’m not telling you a thing, there is nothing in it for me.”

Cale bit the inside of his bottom lip and he hesitated for a moment. It was like Taylor’s ghost was floating in the corner, staring him down warningly. Don’t fall that far, Cale. We both know how this goes if you go through with this, the apparition taunted, Nate isn’t worth it anyway. In the end, that was all it took to send Cale over the edge. Taylor was lying. Nate was worth killing for.

He had stabbed in and out of Corey’s leg within the flash of a moment. Corey shrieked, clearly caught off guard. Cale pushed the blade against Corey’s forearm, leaning in close and keeping eye contact. He flexed his grip on the blade, testing it deeper into the Bolt’s skin as if to dare him. “You’re going to tell me where they took Nate,” he repeated, voice cold.

Corey only smirked, his eyes alive with spite. “You’re not going to find him, you’re too late,” the Bolt hissed.

“Liar,” spat Cale, his anger slowly slipping from its leash.

Corey shook his head, seemingly unperturbed by the knife being driven through his arm, and he continued, “He should have watched what he was doing.”

“Nate isn’t dead, he can’t be,” said Cale through gritted teeth. He readjusted his grip on his blade, trying to steady his breathing. He looked away as if that would stave off this unfamiliar feeling. “I know him better than that. He won’t die at the hands of people like you. He’s too damn stubborn.”

“Fine,” admitted Corey with a shuddering breath in, “but he is suffering.”

Cale struck him hard on the jaw and Corey spat out blood. The Bolt hung his head, shoulders shaking with giddy laughter. “We have him exactly where we want him, he’s close—”

White hot rage sparked and Cale made a quick slice through the pit of Corey’s left knee. He was unable to hold back an ear-piercing scream. Cale was horrified to find himself almost relishing the sound. Corey swore loudly and struggled in the chair, blood already pooling on the floor from his cut tendon.

Through all this, Corey kept taunting further, pain and hatred loosening his tongue, “Larkin’s going to break him—!”

Cale stopped, stepping back abruptly and letting his blade clatter to the floor.

Corey’s face lost all its color. Hope swelled in Cale’s chest. His hair was messy, his cheeks flushed, sweat was beading down his brow. The room was hot and the silence had turned expectant. Cale forced himself to smile and meet eyes with Corey, who had gone completely silent, his mouth slightly agape at his slip.

Larkin.

Cale watched him for a moment, noticing how fast the Bolt’s breathing was getting. He looked like a wild animal, trapped in a corner and hunted. Slowly, Cale reached to his hip and pulled out his gun. He could at least give him a quick death. Better that than bleed out.

“Cale, don’t,” Gabe’s voice began.

Cale paid his boss no heed. He cocked the gun, and without a word pulled the trigger. Corey went limp and Cale averted his eyes. He threw the gun to the table beside his watch, discarding it as if that would discard the crime, too.

Taylor’s ghost had disappeared and Cale turned away. Gabe was watching him with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. Disappointment, maybe. Pride, possibly. Cale wasn’t about to try and digest it.

I’m not sorry, realized Cale. His brows furrowed. He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. Should he? He’d just killed a man, but now he had what he needed. There was still a chance to save Nate. He wasn’t going to let emotion for a man he didn’t know get in the way of this. Not yet. Cale walked away and slammed the door behind him, ignoring Gabe’s voice calling after him. He had to go, now.

The Red Wings had Nate, which meant there was only one place he could logically be. He’d be at the docks where they usually kept hostages. Cale almost laughed at the irony. He’d learned the Red Wings territory within his first year with Gabe. He’d wanted to know where the men that had killed his brother were, so Gabe had let him go undercover there. Cale practically knew the place like the back of his hand. For once it seemed like Cale was finally getting lucky.

He beelined for his car but was stopped by Gabe running after him. “Cale!” Gabe shouted, sounding half-angry and half-urgent.

Cale spun to face him, eyes glinting with invisible flame. “I’m going to fucking find him, Gabe. I’m going and you aren’t going to stop me.”

Gabe paused, perplexed before his jaw set. “Cale, they’ll kill you.”

Cale shoved the realization of danger away. He straightened, hand lingering on the open car door. “No, they won’t,” refused Cale so plainly it was a promise.

Gabe let out a frustrated growl as he looked tensely away, “Cale—”

But he had already slammed the door, turned the keys in the ignition, and roared the engine to life. Cale was gone before his boss could protest any longer. He left Gabe at the docks.

#colorado avalanche #avs lb #cale makar #nathan mackinnon #gabriel landeskog #hrpf #mens hockey rpf #we've reached the climax folks... it's about to get wild #prepare for some angst!!! :']#this fic is so long now but it's been worth it #the next part might be the last part. we'll see

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tryst-art-archive · 1 year

Text

Pet Assignment

The humans left us alone again, and after a solid hour of mewling at the front door after the young owner left, I thoroughly explored the house for potential escape routes that may or may not have appeared. I found nothing of the sort and sat myself down to contemplate; my adopted role as simpleton seems to be having the desired effect. No one suspects my mastermind, not even Starlight! Usually, he is very astute. But in this much I gain superiority; I have certainly outfoxed him!

It was at about this time that I felt a desire for foodstuffs and wandered over to the food dish whereupon the large white heating device beside it let loose a burst of hot steam and whistled angrily.

I decided that it was in my best interest to run from the kitchen and perhaps down to the basement. Quickly.

Starlight was lounging languorously on the large, brown couch and hardly opened an eye upon my rather noisome entrance. But I made the best of it and, feeling the need to be appreciated, hopped onto the coffee table and delivered a sharp whap to his noggin. A brief tussle ensued, providing a jubilant source of entertainment until I found myself beaten.

I am pleased to note that I did land a blow; the young owner noticed it on Starlight later and made a disapproving clicking sound at it.

After our romp, Starlight wandered upstairs, had a bite to eat, and then headed into the older owners’ bedroom to nap. I soon followed suit and slept fitfully upon their bed until the young owner returned home.

I, apparently, was slow in coming to as when I next wakened it was because I felt her presence in the room and anticipated being woken by a brief round of patting. Groggy, I nearly betrayed my adoptive demeanor, but managed to pull it off with some clever lazy stretching and a bit of scampering down the stairs.

Bothersome things, stairs; they’re such a hassle to go down. Starlight, of course, has no trouble with them (the show-off), but I find myself half-falling down them most of the time.

In any case, the young owner followed me down the stairs and began babbling away with her string of incoherent noises. I caught the “bay-bee” noise a few times and the “cyoo-tee-pye” sound once or twice, but, as per usual, much of the rest was a string on unintelligible syllables; a few instances of address or name but nothing more.

It’s not as though she ever addresses us by our proper names, anyway. Starlight’s true name is Oberon Steele III Killer of Small Creatures and Catcher of Water Droplets; Starlight is just easier to say and happens to be his owner-given name. The young owner calls him Star, more often than not, or one of the various forms of nonspecific address such as “babe.” I am called Francesca Zebulon Marietta Oedipus IV also known as She Who Crashes Into Walls or The Mewler or She of the Frictionless Feet or, among closer friends and relatives, Fuzzy Feet. But my owner-given name is Pippin and the young owner tends to shorten this to Pips or one of the unspecified superlatives such as “dearis.” That is, if she thinks to call me anything at all… Assuming she even thinks; I will have to delve into this further.

In any case, after disturbing me from my slumber, the young owner settled into the large black monstrosity – I have heard the owners call it a “chair” – in front of the ledge-with-legs that has the shiny, flat, thing in front of it that she will stare at for hours. She did something involving clicking and whirring and rearranging things, readjusted herself, and moved to take large rectangular objects (filled with what I have heard them call “paper”) and began to look something like she was concentrating.

Bored, I settled into my shoebox beside her things and began to nap. Occasionally she would cause me to awaken from my doze by moving or by reaching over to scratch me behind my ears.

After some time I stood, stretched, and walked to my food dish in the kitchen. I returned to the young owner’s side and leaped onto the ledge-with-legs, parading in front of the shiny, flat thing in front of her, and attempting to strike up some conversation.

My efforts were in vain, however, and I found myself being pushed to one side or the other as the young-owner attempted to acquire a better view of the shiny-flat-thing. A battle of wills ensued which I surely would have won, but for my becoming bored. I gave up and sat to the left of the young owner.

A small, yellow pad of paper was sitting there, innocently. I believe the young owner calls them “stih-kee-notes,” but whatever they are, I could sense the evil lurking in their papery heart. I did some swift reconnaissance work first, watching them carefully for any sudden moves or overt sly intentions. The young owner shifted slightly, and the sticky-notes twitched in response. I struck!

My battle with the sticky notes was a glorious one fit for a long-winded epic poem, immortalized in the annals of history. But it was cut short by the intervention of the young owner who reached over, snatched the sticky notes from me and said something sounding like: “Hun-ee, don’t eet my stih-kee notes.”

She set them back where they had been previously and, once she had returned her attention to the shiny-flat-thing, I attacked once more. Again, she interfered with my glorious battle, swifter this time, and replaced the sticky notes where they had been. I wasted no time and went after the vile fiends yet again, and the same scene from before played out except that, instead of replacing the sticky notes where they had been, the young owner took the object and hid it somewhere out of my sight, beneath the ledge-with-legs. I stared after them for a bit, searching for my mortal enemy, but, finding that they were lost to my influence, I sat back unhappily.

Some time passed and I decided that it was high time for a nap. I didn’t allow myself to fall into utter sleepy oblivion but rather dozed and listened for strange noises.

One such noise came a bit later when the young owner left her chair, gathered up a myriad of belongings, crossed the room and the hallway, and began going down the stairs leading to the orange “base-mehnt.” She paused on the second step to turn to me and say, “Come on, darlin’.” So I hopped off the table and ran past her, down the stairs. I stood at the bottom, trying to remember why I had come down, but moved quickly when I heard her lumbering down the steps. She dropped her things on the low ledge-with-legs in front of the much larger, brown “cowch” that is, I’m sure, made of pure, unadulterated evil. I dare not touch it. She sat on this latter and settled into her accustomed position in the crevice between two of the “cowch cushuns.” She picked up a black devices with buttons on it, and the black image-maker across from her came to life and began making moving pictures and sound to go along with them. I glanced up, but I’ve seen it all before, and it’s a rather boring thing, those pictures, so I stopped paying it any mind and flopped down on the rug in the middle of the room.

The image-maker’s screen went to black though a vague sound indicated that it was still running. She put the black device down and moved over to the cabinet beneath the image-maker and removed from it another black device. This one had a wire running from it to strange, whirring objects inside the cabinet. The image-maker’s screen produced some pictures and began making somewhat identifiable noises. She focused on it and hit buttons of the black, wired device.

I mostly paid her no mind until the boredom set in; I wanted to play.

I voiced my interest to the young owner several times before she turned to me with a sound like “Whut, bay-bee?” I continued to assert my interest, and she, unwillingly, got up and gathered up some of my toys so that we could play.

A great deal of fun was had (by me, anyway), but it eventually ended with the young owner returning to her own business, and, though I called for more play, no amount of protest was going to get the fun flowing again.

We spent the rest of the evening there in the basement with a few occasions of one or the other of us going up the stairs for some reason or another; the other owners returned home at various points in the day and would occasionally come to the basement and make nonsense noises at both of us. Starlight appeared a few times, generally wanting to be let out or walked to his dish and unable to find anyone else to do the task for him. Eventually, deeper evening came, and the young owner went to the “shower” and then to bed. She picked me up and carried me to her bed with her, and I sat quietly on the floor until she fell asleep. There upon, I wandered downstairs where I met Starlight, and we engaged in an epic battle of wits, strength, and skill.

It ended in draw but helped pass much of the night. We there upon went about our individual business, Starlight eating, napping, and occasionally launching attacks on my person, and myself patrolling the house, smiting enemies, eating, napping, and occasionally launching attacks on Starlight’s person.

Eventually the house began to stir again as the owners woke and bustled about as the usually do. Starlight, at this time, was upstairs in the elder owners’ room, sleeping. I settled into my shoebox and tried to keep out of the way. It wasn’t long before the owners had left us alone again; a new day had begun.

#writing archive #TrysKits work #prose #fiction #old writing #assignments #pets #dog #00s #2007 #Age 16

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cruisinfdr · 5 years

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~glendale parris~

hey this is glendale 4 @corporeal-ish !!!! who saiiid “henlo, id like to request a colorful beefy bear boy, like one of those big dudes with glitter beards and painted nails. i have all the packs n stuff and u can use whatever cc u wanna, im excited to see what u do!!”

so here !! im like. genuinely super attached to him after spending so long w him in cas so i have faith u will do him justice and lov him as much as i do jdsghkjsd

so i got carried away also and made 2 extra everyday outfits so pics of the extra 2 outfits r under the cut so u can choose if u want them or not obviously :’~) and theres some more of me babbling because like i said. i got carried away And attached so i came up w a strong idea of what kinda guy i think he is?? but obviously thts just my interpretation too u can roll w him however u want !

heres a song tht makes me think of him !! and a second one w a different feel !!

skin overlay / skin tone / eyebags / moles / nails / beard / hair (v3 w the widows peak) / body hair / lipz (neutral low opacity) / teef (lil gap) / brows / shirt 1 / jeans 1 / shirt 2 / jeans 2 / neckerchief / shirt 3 / i literally only used these slides for his partywear cuz i thought it was funny /

n for the beard also.,., i dont doubt that hes the kind of person to just. rock the flowers 24/7 but other than that u can put him in the regular base game beard :~)

anyway heres his tray files or u can get him on the gallery if u wanna :~P im bre611 !! n feel free to tag me if u use him i rlly wanna see :’’’~)

hes seriously so cute !!! i cheated a tiny bit cuz i used one of my favorite randomly generated townies as a base for him instead of a complete rando from cas but he looks pretty much nothing like the original guy except for the nose :~P so he might have skills since he was in my game for awhile ! but anyway:: i get the feeling that he lives in selvadorada now and like. he got shitfaced on a cruise dskjhfksjd and thats how he ended up there. like the cruise ship left him on accident lmfao but hes not mad cuz of the MEN there and he got a bartending gig so. tis a good life 4 him. and he’d totally be friends w angus i think !! i got that vibe from the get go that theyd be friends,., also while making him i was SUPER inspired by ramon from archer so theres a clip oh look and heres another one !! u can see where i got an outfit from

also idk if youll wanna do this but like,.,., u might wanna size his hands down idk if i made them too big or not cuz i was trying to figure out if they were proportionate but hes got some fkin MITTS now HSKDHF his hands are huge but its ok hes sweet

#sim download #oh my GOD this ones so long sorry im sorry !!!!!!!!!#ts4 #the sims 4 #i got so carried away w him honestly im so sorry #ive been working on him since like. the start of sim requests ive had a lot of time to get attached #as far as the songs go #to me they feel like ones he'd listen to while sitting on a balcony in selvadorada #and hes alone just in a lounge chair staring at the stars in the evening with a beer on the table next to him #and probably a cig in his hand. just staring at the stars.#more so that applies to the second song #deadass i love him so much im glad hes a public download u kno cuz that way its still acceptable for me to use him #OH YA I FORGOT TO SAY this too #in my mind hes like late 30s so i cant remember if i made him an adult in game but he should be young adult #hes like 37 38 39 u kno around there #i couldnt decide if i wanted him to be more mid 40s or more late 30s so i was flipping back and forth #he reminds me of one of my coworkers but i think its just the hair #ok i'll shut up now ! this ones long enough as it is omfg !#SOMEONE DOWNLOAD HIM

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avenging-fandoms · 3 years

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PLS he'd come home with a bloody face and blood knuckles bc he got into a fight with a pogue about something stupid, but it actually seems as if he hurt himself and he doesn't stop you from helping him, since you're the only one thats really given him affection

*i know this isn't normally how rafe acts, but sometimes we can imagine things and enjoy fluff sometimes! :)

“rafe? rafe!” you shouted as you lounged in the pool, but he just looked at you and walked inside. you huffed and quickly got out of the pool. you wrapped your towel around your body, sliding on your flip flops and running up to rafe’s room.

the door was closed and you knocked softly. “go away” rafe mumbled and you sighed.

“can’t get rid of me that easy, sugar” you smile as you enter the room, but the smile soon dropped when you saw him sitting on the edge of his bed, knuckles and mouth bloody. “rafe!” you sprinted over to him and sat next to him, lightly holding his chin and turning his head to face you.

“i told you to go away” he whispered and you shook your head, tears softly pooling your eyes. “i didn’t want you to see me like this”

“rafe, what the hell happened?!” you took your towel off and tried to wipe away the blood, but it was dry. “was this a while ago? what happened?!”

“those stupid pogues, yn! there was 3 of them and one of me!" he exclaimed and you watched as he got up, placing his hand on his hip and he took a breath. i sat in my car for a while because i didn't want to come home and have you see me like this"

"rafe.." your voice was soft, heading over to him and replacing his hands on his hips, ear to his chest as you listened to his quickened heart beat. "was it john b and them?" rafe shook his head, and you sighed. "but you didn't see who it was?"

"i did see who it was, yn, i just said they were pogues" rafe's voice had a hint of attitude and you chose to ignore it. you pull away and look up at him, studying the cuts on his face.

"head to the bathroom for me, okay? i'll meet you in there after i change" rafe just looked at you, holding your hand. "what?"

"i don't.. i don't want to be alone, yn" rafe whispered and you nodded, hugging him. rafe let out a soft cry and rested his cheek on top of your head, holding onto you tightly.

"i'm not going anywhere, rafe. i promise. i'll meet you in the bathroom to clean you up, i just have to change before i get hypothermia" you joke and rafe chuckles, sniffling.

"okay" he whispered and kissed your forehead, wiping his nose and heading into his bathroom. you took a deep breath and dug in his closet, finding an old pair of his shorts, tying them so they fit. you took off your bathing suit and draped it over the back of his chair, sliding on one of his shirts.

you put out a t-shirt and sweatpants on his bed for him to change in after you cleaned him up. rafe sat on the edge of his bathtub with his jacket off, a giant bruise on his arm. "oh my boy.." you whisper, running your hand over his hand and kissing the top of it. "do you want to take a shower or a bath?"

"i.. uh.." rafe was shaking, and you hated seeing him like this. normally he was confident, cool as a cucumber. but he was shaking, vulnerable, and it broke your heart. "a.. shower. can you use that nice smelling shampoo?" you smile and nod, running the water and he checks it, nodding. you put the shampoo out and hold the hem of his shirt, rafe placing his hand on top of yours.

you pulled the polo off and held a gasp as you saw his cuts, bruises, and new scars. you felt sick to your stomach. your fingers shook as they hover over the cuts, tears in your eyes. "my god.. rafe.. you should have called me, baby"

"i was embarrassed" rafe was always honest with you. never once did he lie to you, he vowed never to. "can i get in now?"

"of course" rafe stood up and took off his pants, underwear, socks and shoes. even if you two had been dating for 2 years, you still looked away until he submerged himself under the water.

"you're safe now, ray" you whisper, holding his cheek and rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

"can you get in with me?" rafe's eyes finally met yours and you nodded, smiling at him. you took off the shirt and shorts, stepping into the steaming shower. you squirted some of the shampoo in your hand and massage it into his scalp. rafe closed his eyes and sighed at your soft touch.

rafe wasn't used to this. he wasn't used to soft touches, he wasn't used to soft words. rafe was a different person around you, he was kind. he was smiley, he was happy.

rafe rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and looked down at you as you softly touched his cuts, cleaning them and cleaning off the dirt. you stopped when he hissed, and continued when he nodded.

the shower relaxed your boyfriend and you two got out. rafe wrapped the towel around his waist and you wrapped it around your body, rafe sitting on the cover of the toilet. you cleaned his knuckles and wrapped them, bandaging the cuts that were deep and kissing his cheeks.

"yn.." you hum and he takes your hand, kissing your palm. "thank you.. for.. everything you do for me" rafe's voice was quiet and every time he was quiet you had to make sure it was actually him.

"anything for you, rafe. i love you" you smile and hold his chin, kissing him softly. you left the bathroom and dried yourself, putting on the clothes again. rafe dried himself off and changed into the clothes you gave him, laying on his bed.

you opened his balcony doors and stepped out, staring out at the moon and stars. rafe looked over at you and rolled onto his side, resting his head on his bicep. you looked at him over your shoulder and waved him over.

rafe stood up and headed over to you, his arm over your shoulders. rafe was behind you with your hands holding onto his arm. you kissed his bicep and rested your head back against his chest, looking out at the water.

"i wish everything was this calm forever" you mumble against his skin, rafe rocking back and forth softly. "i wish we could run away, rafe"

"soon, i promise. anywhere you want to go" he whispered in your hair and you nod. rafe closed his eyes and laid his chin on top of your head. "i love you"

"i love you too, rafe" you two stood there for a few minutes, soaking it all in, the calm before the storm. "let's go lay down, baby. you've had a long day" you took his hand and pulled him into his room. you and rafe snuck under his blankets, rafe holding you tightly as you traced down his nose. "if you're ever in trouble again, rafe cameron, you c-"

"call you. i got it now" he whispered, kissing you softly. you pulled back and looked at him, hand on his chest. "i promise" you nod and kiss him again, hugging him.

"and.. don't go looking to get your revenge on them. i know it was hard but.. i don't want to clean you up like this again, ray. i hate seeing you hurt"

"i won't, i promise you, sweetheart" he rubbed his nose against yours, thumb against your jaw. he kissed you again, pulling you tightly to him. "i promise" he whispered, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep as you drew patterns into his back.

rafe wanted to cry when he felt your soft touches, the feeling foreign to him. you vowed to him to always be kind to him, and that vow you kept, even when he did something stupid and made you angry, you still scolded him in a nice way. and rafe listened more to you than to anyone when he wasn't screamed at.

rafe felt loved, safe, vulnerable around you. he never felt like that before with anyone. rafe made you feel protected, heard, beautiful. you two needed each other, and neither of you were letting go any time soon.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron blurbs #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks #drew starkey

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orenjikaraka · 3 years

Text

I’m Truly Sorry, please Forgive Me…

Rengoku Kyojuro x reader angst

Warnings: slight manga warning aka mainly akaza just slightly though, cursing, concerned for weight, angst

word count: 4279

AU: modern

(Y/N) woke up to an empty side of the bed, She wondered if he’s at work again, she sighed, she got up, she actually kind of disappointed that he's not here , ‘Kyojuro…’ she thought, she still felt tired, but kind of relieved in the same time, because she was on break, it was only for a week, but she’s glad that she doesn’t have to go to work today, ‘I should make dinner for him, because he usually comes back late at night’, when she got up, the floor was cold, ‘well crap now I’m awake’, she got dressed and went to the kitchen, she made Kyojuro’s dinner and made her breakfast, she put his plate in the fridge, and ate her breakfast alone while watching some shows.

After she finished her food, she was wondering if she should call him, to see if he was alright. But before she could even try, Genya was calling her, ‘weird timing’, and she answered “hi Genya, what’s up?” “O- oh hi (Y/N), I was wondering if Rengoku-San is doing ok, because he’s been working on a lot of paperwork, he usually be finish with it, and head to your home, but- but he been like this yesterday morning and I don’t- don’t think he left school?” ‘Now that you think about it, Kyojuro left early yesterday in the morning, I thought it would be like a meeting, but who takes meetings that early in the DAMN morning’ “maybe he just has extra work, he needs to do Genya”, “ trueee, but he looks exhausted, so I wondering if you could check on him?”

‘Awwww, Genya, still acting like a little brother, it’s no wonder he’ll be worried, heck I'm worried too, but usually when these things happen like this, he comes the next day, sleeping soundly on our bed…’ “Genya, sweetheart, don’t worry about it, he’ll be back probably late at night, and be sound asleep in my bed, so don’t worry” “but- but (Y/N)” ‘this boy…’ “Genya I’ll tell you what, if he doesn’t come this midnight, and if morning happens and he’s still not there, can you ask Sanemi to go check on him, because I’ll be busy tomorrow, and you know, some errands for the house and grocery stopping, also I chose Sanemi, because you’ll be busy with school you know” “i- I know, and o- ok” … “OH, (Y/N), I’m celebrating my birthday today. Would you like to come, Tanjiro and his sister will be there, and Sanemi of course, “oh I would love to, I don’t really have anything to do today anyway so sure!” “YES- wait I mean thank you… for… coming…” ‘hehe poor boy, probably made his classmates scared’ “your welcome Genya, also happy birthday!” “Thank you, (Y/N), bye” “bye”.

‘Oh, before I do anything I should go buy him a gift’ so (Y/N) put on some casual clothes, instead of just wearing Pajamas, and went to the mail.

—-

All the classes has ended, and Rengoku just finished a big batch of paperwork, he yawn, and checked if he was finished, he looked on his schedule and saw more paperwork has been placed with a big sticky note that says ‘Teacher of history class: Rengoku Kyojuro; must be finished by tomorrow!’ “Fuck…” he just wanted to go home and sleep with his beautiful wife, on that soft bed, “guess this will be my 4th coffee for the day…” he got up and yawn again, and stretched, his back pop, but not in the good way, “ow, ow, ow, never doing that again…”, he walked over, and picked his stack of paper he had to do, he sat it in his desk, and walked to the teachers lounge’s door, and opened it to the hallway, before he stepped out, he saw Genya with Sanemi, most likely walking home, he guessed, but he heard Genya saying before they left, “(Y/N), is coming over, for the party, I’m so glad she’s free today!” And as they left, Kyojuro felt frustrated, ‘why didn't she tell me anything…’ he yawned again, “God, these yawns are getting on my nerves, I need my coffee…”

When he made it to the teachers lunch room, he started to make his coffee, when it finished, he drinks it, unusually fast, but unsatisfied, by the results, ‘ima have another’ so he made another, and drink it the exact speed as the last one, satisfied by the 2nd coffee, he was gonna go back to the teachers lounge, but saw a small box that had some sweet rolls, on the box it said, ‘you may only take one’, but Kyojuro had a craving to eat the whole damn box, all those coffees are really messing up his appetite, ‘who’s gonna notice these anyway, I eat most of the stuff here, so who gives a damn’ ‘but then again… I’ll gain some weight…’ he put one hand on his side, and felt some fat, it’s not noticeable, but it’s still pudge, ‘maybe I regret being a teacher, all this damn paperwork, and exhaustion, and drinking all this coffee really affecting my body…’ when he was thinking about all this stuff and he was about to ditch it and left, but hunger was just raging in his stomach so ‘ok, ok, maybe some won’t hurt’ and took the whole damn box and left for the teachers lounge.

—-

(Y/N) was at Sanemi’s house celebrating Genya’s birthday, everything was going great and to (Y/N), she was surprised that Sanemi was having a great time too. It was kind of sad that Kyojuro wasn’t there, he would be giving Genya tons of gifts, but sadly he’s still at work, it made (Y/N) a bit disappointed again, but she wanted to just hope, he’s doing ok, “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” “Oh, Sanemi, I’m just worried for my husband is all…” “don’t worry about it, like you said to Genya, if he doesn’t show up to your house tomorrow morning, I’ll go check on him, just relax and don’t worry about it” “ok…” “quick (Y/N), I’m blow the heck out of the candles!!” Genya said, (Y/N) laughed, “ok!!, come on Sanemi, get off that couch of yours, and stop being lazy” Sanemi smirk “ohhhh really, I’ll prove to you, that I’m not” he gets up, “I like to see you try!!” Sanemi and (Y/N) laughed after that, and went over to the kitchen to celebrate Sanemi’s little bro's birthday.

—-

After Genya’s birthday celebration was over, (Y/N) went straight home, to relax and just vibe at home, when she took her shower and other little chores and pajamas on, she was about to fell on her bed, but she heard a knock on her door, she immediately turned around and hope it was Kyojuro, when she opened it, her excitement immediately stopped, she saw akaza, “sorry to bother you Mrs. Rengoku, but I’m just here to drop some stuff off”, “who stuff is it?” “Just Rengoku-sans” “oh ok, thanks akaza, oh also is he still at work?” Akaza sighed “yeah… I kind of feel bad for the guy, been working his ass off over some stupid extra paperwork…”, ‘I’ll remind Sanemi tomorrow to go check on him’, “akaza, before you leave, thanks again I appreciate it”, “your welcome, and have a great night!” Akaza waved goodbye and walked away, ‘akaza, I hope that boy relationship is better then mine, because he needs it, he’s such a sweet boy…’ (Y/N) closed the door, and looked in the box, it had finished paperwork inside it.

‘Ren… you really need to take a break…’

—-

The next evening is even more tiring than before, Kyojuro looks more warned out; he looks like he's gonna faint any minute, but that coffee stops him from doing so. ‘Fuck me… my eyes hurt so much…’ Kyojuro yawned again. The teacher's office door opened, Kyojuro didn’t give a damn who it was, because he felt like passing out. “Rengoku”, … “Kyojuro”, … “HEY, I know you can hear me, don’t play du-“ “how about you shut your mouth Sanemi” “tch, hey I’m only here because your wife sent me here to check up on you, not for you to be a asshole to me” that annoyed Kyojuro “why the hell are you with my (Y/N)” “Ren, she’s like a sister to me, even though we’re not related, I still see her as family, so why the fuck you think, I be behind your back with that” Kyojuro sighed and stood from his chair “where is she” “she’s out doing errands, she wanted to come over here and check on you, but house chores and grocery shopping” Kyojuro sat back down and trying to finish what he was left off “ok, leave, I have work to do, so buzz off”.

“Are you listening to yourself right now, your just gonna go back on your work instead of paying attention to (Y/N)” “no, I need to finish it, for my job, someone needs to pay the bills in the house” Sanemi got pissed off by that, then he chuckled “tch, no wonder (Y/N) comes to my house, when she’s all tearing up, because someone needs to give her attention and that someone is not you” Kyojuro stood up and put his hands by Sanemi’s shirt, Sanemi can see that flame in his eyes, the rage… “Sanemi if you lay a finger on-“ “maybe I should, I can treat her better than you…” Kyojuro was about to punch him, but the door opened again, and Genya was there, poor boy was shocked, “let go, Rengoku” Sanemi made Kyojuro let go, Sanemi walked over to Genya, and reassured him, Kyojuro just stared back and a overflowing guilt fell on him, Sanemi looked back with rage and discuss in his eyes, “Ren, you need to get your act together, if you can’t do that, she’s gonna move on, and divorce you…” then slammed the door.

Sanemi walked out with Genya and head home, but before he touched the door knob, his phone rings, he got his phone out of his pocket and saw (Y/N) on the screen, he answers, “hey what’s up” “hey can I come spend the night at your house” Sanemi was surprised, “oh… why-“ “Genya texted me, that the talk you had with Ren, didn’t go so well…” ‘she sounds depressed’ “hey… is everything ok…” ‘wait, why would I ask such a dumb question’ “kinda… I'm just sick of being alone at home…” “yeah, want me to come pick you up” “yes…” “ok, I’ll come pick you up in 10 minutes from now” “thanks Sem Sem, I appreciate it” Sanemi chuckled, “your welcome, (Y/N)…”

—-

It was late at night again, and Kyojuro was still at work doing paperwork, he felt like knocking out, his eyes were drooping and his back hurts, ‘me, an jerk, fuck off Sanemi…’ ‘maybe I should call her…’ Kyojuro stop doing his work and picked up his phone off the desk and started to call her, it rings and rings and rings, until a voicemail happens, “hi this is (Y/N), I might be busy with my husband, so please understand, leave a message after the beep”, *bee-* He canceled it before it even tried to go to voicemail, ‘why should I even try again, it’s midnight’ he put his phone down and he wanted to rest his eyes ‘maybe, I am a jerk’ then he denied it ‘no, I need to finish this work…’ yawned again, ‘actually maybe a small nap won’t hurt, right?’ He laid on his arms, and wondered ‘am I really a bad husband, mom if you were here, what would you say about this…’ Kyojuro slowly fell asleep on his desk.

—-

It was midnight and (Y/N) didn’t want to call back Kyojuro, she saw the missed call from him, but she was shocked to think he would call her, she sighed and tried to go to sleep but couldn’t, maybe she’s overreacting about Kyojuro, she knows his job can be overwhelming, but… but… she’s tearing up, she’s sobbing, she’s quivering, she lift herself up, and put her arms around her legs.

Sanemi was fast asleep in the living room couch, Genya couldn’t really sleep because what happened in the teachers lounge, what Sanemi said and what Rengoku said, he felt guilt swelling up in his heart, then he hear (Y/N) sobbing in Sanemi’s master bedroom, he sit up, and opened his door, and quietly walked to his brother’s room, slowly opened the door, and saw (Y/N), he felt horrible, he closed the door behind him, and slowly touched her back and slowly rubs her back, “hey, (Y/N)… everything will be ok…” (Y/N) let go of her arms and slowly hugged Genya, she was sobbing on his shoulder, he hugged her back, and give light rubs on her back, and whispered “everything is going to be fine”, it slowly calmed her down, and she looked up at Genya, her puffy eyes made him felt terrible, “I’m sorry I woke you up Genya, it’s just so much is happening…” “no, no, no, it’s fine, your stressed out because what’s all happening and I completely understand that'', “thanks Genya…” “do you need anything else, (Y/N)” she paused and still looked gloomy, “can you sleep with me, It’s hard for me to sleep”, Genya spaced out and it was a little out of the blue for him, “sur- sure, if it- it helps you sleep- I com- completely understand” his cheeks were slightly pink, (Y/N) laughed because he looks so cute, when’s he’s blushy, “thanks Genya'' she made a small smile, that made Genya stop blushing, he smiled back, he stood up, and started to fix his side of the bed, and he walked out and walked back in for his phone, (Y/N) layed down on her side of the bed, and Genya rested on the left side, “thanks again Gen Gen…” “your welcome (Y/N)…” and they both fell asleep.

—-

Sanemi woke up first, because he needs to get Genya ready for school and everything, like make his breakfast and stuff, he left his main clothes in the living room because he didn’t want to wake up (Y/N), he got dressed and he head to Genya’s room, to wake him up, when he got there and opened the door, he wasn’t there, ‘where you go?’ Then he look at his room, and slowly walked to his room and opened it, and saw Genya sleeping on the left side and (Y/N) on the right, ‘she must’ve had a hard time sleeping, so she asked Genya…’ he still felt frustrated from yesterday, ‘maybe I should call for a day off today, because of (Y/N)’ so he slowly closed the door and called his boss, he said Genya’s not feeling well and that Genya has to stay home, and he had to stay home and take care of him, he ended the call and started to make breakfast for the both of them, he made there plates first, then he made his, his room door opened and Sanemi’s head looked at the direction, and saw Genya walked out then (Y/N), they both yawn, “I smelled pancakes, so I woke up first” (Y/N) said, Genya just shook up, “wait!, ima be late for school!”, then Sanemi quickly said “you dork, I told them we have a day off!, so calm down…``''oh…”, (Y/N) laughed on the two brothers, “why did you call a day off Sanemi?” “Because of you, I saw Genya slept on the other side of the bed, so I thought, you had a hard time sleeping” “I did and Genya helped, isn’t that little dude” “HEY, I’m not around the same age, but I am like twice your size!”, (Y/N) laughed, it made the brothers smile, because it’s better to see their friend happy instead of so sorrowful, “hey, Sanemi… later from today, can you drop me at the school, I need to talk to Rengoku'' Sanemi was a bit surprised to hear her say his last name, “sure, I can, but if anything happens I’ll be in the hallway, and if anyone ask why I’m there, I’ll just say, I’m waiting on someone” “thanks Sanemi” she smiled softly “your welcome (Y/N), if anything happens I’ll rush in there”

“Thanks and I appreciate it”

—-

It was the afternoon and Kyojuro woke up from his nap, he felt all horrible, his back still hurts, his eyes has deep bags under them, and his body has a trill to drink more coffee, he tried stretching again, but the aches on his back felt like needles piercing through his skin “well that just fucking hurts” he touched his sides and his back, because they were hurting like hell, ‘hope this day, won’t get any worse as it is’, the teacher’s lounge door opened and right when he looked up, he saw his beautiful (Y/N), she looked dreadful, “hi…” she spoke, he felt guilt in his heart because how sad she sounds, “hi…” “can we talk, Rengoku…”, Kyojuro felt even more guilt, why is she calling me that, like we’re strangers all over again he thought, “baby, why are you not calling me by my-“ “Ren, why aren’t you coming home” that guilt slowly turns into frustration, “because I have a job, and I need to pay the bills for us to survive…” “yes, but doesn’t mean you stay up and at your job for three days straight”, “so-“, now (Y/N) slightly raising her voice “what do you mean so!, look at yourself, you been sitting in your desk, drinking coffee, have horrible bags under your eyes, you look like your gonna knock out, Rengo-“ “STOP CALLING ME BY MY LAST NAME” that terrified her, but she still stood her ground, “why should I!! I have been ignored for the past three days! You don’t even give me a text that ‘I’ll be still at work!’ Or at least something comforting!” “Oh (Y/N)!, why don’t you stop being a sensitive little bitch!, and just grow up!”

Kyojuro eyes went wide, shocked to why he even said that, (Y/N) was trembling, her tears were streaming down her cheeks, Kyojuro wanted to help her calm down, but when he tried to reach for her, she backed up, Kyojuro felt horrible, he felt like he wanted to get punched, his voice was shaky, “(Y/N)…” he tried to touch her shoulder again, but she back up again, “don’t touch me…” his heart shattered when he heard her and how scared she is, “(Y/N), I’m sorry…”, it was silent, until she said “Kyojuro…, no wonder your just like your father…”, and she ran out just like that, Kyojuro was speechless, he wanted to run after her, but couldn’t, because she was right, Kyojuro started tearing up and quavering.

“Am I really…”

——

(Y/N) was running away from the school, the students that were leaving school saw her with sad looks on there faces, Sanemi was behind yelling her name, She just wanted to go far, far, far away from this horrible school, Sanemi chack up, and grabbed her by the arm, “LET GO!!” And Sanemi turned her around, “hey, it’s me, it's me…”, she hugged Sanemi and he hugged back, he picked her up, “it’s going to be ok… shhh.. everything going to be ok… I’ll take you back to my house…”

When they got there, Genya looked worried for (Y/N), she was crying silently, Sanemi wanted to put her down, but she didn’t let go, “(Y/N)?”, “can- can, you and Genya, stay up with me…, be- because I don’t think I can sleep…” Sanemi felt horrible, he should’ve just stepped in, but he wanted to give them space and respect their personal conversation, “sure, (Y/N), anything to make you positive and not stressed, I can do that” ‘hearing that from Sanemi was strange, because usually he’s always stern or blatantly aggressive, but he always would hide his anger on me’ “tha- thanks, Sem Sem…” Sanemi made a small pleasant smile that also made her smile, “hey, (Y/N), how about we watch a movie for the night?”

“Sure, I would love that…”

——

When Kyojuro got home, he was not surprised that she wasn’t here, his fist clenched, and he slammed the door behind him, he was starving, because he felt like if he ate, he’ll just throw up, but he had to eat something, so he walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, and saw some dinner, wrapped in foil, and a sticky note on top, he picked up the note, and it read, ‘hi, love, I’m glad your home, finished this amazing dinner I made, I worked really hard on it, so I hope you like it!’ Also ps. When you finish come cuddle with me! <3’, a teardrop fell on the note, and his hand was shaking, it started to become hard to read, because the tears kept flowing, he closed the fridge, and decided to not eat it, the note was now on the floor but he didn’t care, he just wanted to go to sleep, and just hope this is all a nightmare…

After he took his shower and got ready for bed, he wanted to call her again, so he did, but right when he clicked the call button, it went straight to voicemail, he hung up, before her cute voice can say anything, he tossed his phone on her side of the bed, and sat down on his side of the bed, his quivering got worriedly worst, his breathing was uneven, “(Y/N)… please come… back… I’m… nothing like my father…”

“Please… I’m sorry… please come back…”

—-

The following morning, Sanemi woke up first, he got up quietly, stretched his back and popped his joints. He was gonna start breakfast for everyone, but he heard a knock on the door, “who the hell can that be?”, he opened the door and saw Kyojuro, he looked exhausted as usual, but he was well dressed, his hair looks kind of messy, “can I see her, I need to talk to her…” his voice sounds raspy, “no, also please leave, she doesn’t want company at the moment” Sanemi was about to close the door but Kyojuro put his foot on the side, so it won’t close, “please… I must talk to her…” Sanemi hated being in the middle of this, but he can’t just do nothing, (Y/N) was upset about and to see her not happy, makes him wants to punch the hell out of whoever made her unhappy, “listen Rengoku, I don’t want to beat the living pulp out of you, so if you mind, just fucking leave” “I’m not leaving until I talk to her!” He can see those flames in his eyes again. “Why you-“

“Sanemi, who is that?”, (Y/N) woke up, then Genya woke up after, Sanemi turned around with a sad look, “it’s no one” “that’s a lie, (Y/N) please… come out and open the door so we can talk… please…” (Y/N) was shocked to hear Kyojuro at the other side of the door, Sanemi turn back ��dude, I told you-“ “Sanemi, let me go talk to him” she stood and walked over to the door, Sanemi turned back, with sternness, but he couldn’t say no, so he opened the door fully and walked to his room and told Genya to follow, but before the two boys went to Sanemi’s room, Sanemi said this, “if you hurt her, your dead you hear”, and both the both the boys were out of sight, it was just (Y/N) and Kyojuro.

“What is it, Rengoku…”

“Look I know you hate me, but please hear me out…” he stepped in and got a little closer.

(Y/N) sighed and nodded in response.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, that I ignored your text, your calls, and most of all, I’m sorry that I ignored you, it breaks my heart to see you so sad and stressed out, to see you so scared and frightened of me, I don’t want you to see me as my father, I'm truly sorry, please forgive me… I’ll never treat you like this ever again…” his voice was cracking while he talked, but it truly hurt to see him like this, “I’ll prov- prove to you that I’m a worthy husband to you…” he was quivering, “I- I- love you- you, (Y/N)… please don’t leave me… I’m sorry…” “please… I’ll do better-“

(Y/N) hugged him back she was sobbing, but at least she didn’t walk away from him, he hugged her back, and kept saying sweet sorrys, in her ears, giving her kisses, and making her feel loved…

“I’m sorry… my love…”

“Kyojuro… I forgive you…”

“You do!” he sounded like a lost puppy and that make her laughed

“Yes, Koy” she smiled

Kyojuro had the brightest smile, and it made her even more happy.

She hugged him again and he hugged back, “hey koy~”

Hm~”

“Love the new you~” she hugged around his waist.

He blushed, “(Y/N)…” he said shyly he covered his face on her shoulder.

She giggled, “I love you, koy~”

“I love you too, sweetheart~”

#rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x you #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader angst #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer anime #fanfiction #angst #angst fanfic #KNY #Kimetsu no Yaiba #rengoku kyojurou #rengoku kyojurou x reader #rengoku kyojurou x reader angst

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Built on a Lie

Prompt: I like the possible idea of Janus being a absolutely crushed to find Roman bleeding out due to a bruised ego in his room after pof was uploaded. After all most Sander Sides Fans hated Roman after he mocked Janus's Name.

Thanks for the prompt, babe! I hope it’s what you wanted!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: arguably roceit i guess??? it’s just focused on them, can be platonic or romantic if you want. same with LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Warnings: sympathitic janus even if it might not seem like it, sympathetic feral protective remus, roman is a hurt boi

Word Count: 5010

The wedding is tough.

After the wedding is an ordeal.

After after the wedding…hurts.

The Mindscape is all but deserted. No one wants to come out to the common areas for risk of running into someone who they had…disagreements with or getting swept up in a painfully awkward conversation. Patton lingers in the kitchen, Virgil almost never opens his door, Logan works, and Remus, well…Remus is the only one still behaving as normal.

Janus is grateful for his consistency.

In all honesty, and oh, the irony, he doesn’t enjoy this. He doesn’t enjoy the others walking on eggshells constantly, nor does he thrill at how they seem to jump at everyone, not just him. His point was made. That is his job.

But he’s not so sure he fully anticipated the cost.

At the very least, Logan seems to get over their troubles first. He approaches Janus a few days after the wedding and offers one of his philosophy books. Janus accepts it gratefully and by the time he’s finished it, Logan starts talking again. It’s not the greatest thing for the Mindscape that Logan is willing to talk to the others again.

Patton comes around next, simply because he’s the kindest. Janus pities him a little for it. But sure enough, the common areas start to ring again, drawing Remus out from the depths to cause his chaos.

Virgil appears next, summoned by the repeated calling of Remus’s antics and Janus’s exasperation. And sometimes, well, sometimes it seems like they’re back in their hallway, with Patton and Logan looking on with the air of some bemused anthropologists.

All the Sides reemerge and start trying to figure out what’s going on except for Roman.

Roman is nowhere to be found.

“He…he just needs some more time, I’m sure.”

“Roman is prone to fits of dramatics. It is unsurprising that he chooses to have a repeat performance.”

“Princey’s a bit of an asshole, it’s gonna take him a while to own up to what he did.”

“Catch!”

Janus grunts and staggers under Remus’s weight, eventually getting them both with their feet back under them on the floor. He adjusts his hat and looks disapprovingly at the amount of slime Remus has managed to get all over himself.

“What were you even doing?”

“Exploring the precise relationship of viscera to ventricles inside the heart of a blue whale!” Remus shakes his sleeve. “They lied about how bit the veins and arteries are.”

“How did you—nevermind,” Janus sighs, “I don’t want to know. Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Not paying attention.”

“…Roman’s not or you’re not?”

“I’m not!” He flicks some slime at Janus’s hat. “But you should be!”

“Yes, well, when slime starts to emerge from every corner again, I’ll chase you down.”

“Ooh, promises, promises.”

Janus doesn’t hurl some of the slime at Remus as he sinks out.

Roman still hasn’t appeared and the others are starting to notice. Thomas isn’t exactly in a position to do a whole lot of things, but at the very least he’s not doing what he perhaps should have been capable of. Logan notices and at first, chalks it up to the fact that they are in a pandemic; lapses in peak physical and mental performance are not unexpected, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s a little more than that.

The Mindscape grows dimmer, more sluggish. Thomas doesn’t seem to want to do much of anything, let alone work.

“I don’t understand,” Patton mumbles one afternoon when they meet—sans Roman—to try and figure out what’s going on, “I know I’m having a few—um, it’s not Thomas’s feelings that are causing us problems.”

Janus doesn’t make a note of how Virgil quickly presses his arm against Patton’s shoulder.

“There are certain things that are to be expected under times of great stress,” Logan muses, “and certainly any pre-existing problems will be exacerbated, but…this was not anticipated.”

Remus cranks the chainsaw and sets about carving up a new slice of…whatever he’s working on. “We’re in a pandemic, Spectacles!”

“I am wildly aware.”

Virgil stares at the chainsaw—which is fair—then up to Remus. “You ever been in a pandemic before, Remus?”

“Nope!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Okay, so that makes sense. But L’s right, this feels…weird. Like we’re missing something pretty big.”

In unison, they all look towards Roman’s seat.

The room falls as quiet as it can with Remus’s chainsaw still in the background.

The big, red, overstuffed armchair looks…different, without Roman lounging in it. The blinds aren’t drawn but it looks like the coloring has faded significantly, as though it’s been out in the sun for far too long. The seams look as though they’re struggling and there’s a dark imprint on one of the arms.

It’s not a shock to Janus to discover he’s never really looked at the chair before.

“Has anyone heard from Roman,” Logan asks quietly, “since the wedding?”

Virgil shakes his head, glancing around. Patton looks down at his chest.

“You think this is Roman.” It’s not a question.

“HIs tantrums do not normally last for this long,” Logan continues, adjusting his tie, “and whilst I admit that perhaps our circumstances have contributed more than I anticipated, I do not believe that is how Roman feels.”

“Princey has been away for a really long time.”

“Thomas is starting to get hurt by it,” Patton mumbles, laying a hand on his chest, “I can—I’m starting to feel it a little.”

“So we need to get Princey’s head out of his ass again.”

Logan sighs. “Most likely.”

“I didn’t want to rush it,” Patton says, glancing at Janus, “but you guys are right. I think he’s being selfish now.”

At the word ‘selfish,’ Remus freezes.

The chainsaw splutters and dies to the floor with a heavy clunk.

“Remus,” Patton scolds, “be careful with the…”

He trails off when he notices what the rest of them have.

Remus is standing completely still—an impossibility for Remus—his head tilted back, eyes fixed on a point in the ceiling. His nose quivers, almost like a bloodhound.

His nose twitches.

His lip curls up into a snarl.

His morning star appears in his hand with a growl as he tears off toward the stairs.

“Remus? Remus!”

“Wait!”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Remus!”

Janus closes his eyes, reaching out to see if he can tell where Remus is going. His eyes shoot open.

“Roman’s room. Now.”

Virgil grabs Logan and Patton and sinks out.

Janus tries to appear in Roman’s room only to hit something burning cold. He hisses and flinches away from it, only to realize that he hasn’t materialized properly and is stuck. The burning cold reaches further, further, into his scales, digging under them, until Janus yanks himself away and appears, panting, in the hallway outside Roman’s door.

Virgil appears too, still holding the others. “What the fuck was that?”

“Did he block us out?”

“None of us have the ability to do that, other than Thomas.”

“Did he get Thomas to block us out?”

“I don’t know!”

A loud crash jerks their attention to Remus. He raises his morning star again and drives the spikes deep into the bright red of Roman’s door.

…that isn’t nearly as bright as it should be.

Remus snarls again and wails against the door. The wood starts to creak and buckle under the onslaught. He hefts the weapon again and shatters the door with a thunderous crack.

The morning star is hastily flung aside as Remus claws at the splintered wood, yanking it away from the hole he’s made.

The door groans and yields.

Remus rushes through, Virgil on his heels. Patton and Logan attempt to follow only to run smack into both of them.

“Why’d you stop, kiddos, we can’t—“

“Let us through, why did you—“

When those two fight their way through and into silence, Janus sighs and gingerly steps through, nudging Logan and Virgil aside to look at what’s got them so shocked. Roman in the middle of a sobbing mess of tissues, probably, or an empty room signifying he’s gone off on some quest in the Imagination, or even a pouting Roman glaring at them for ruining his door.

He gets around Virgil’s shoulder and his blood runs cold. Burning cold.

If they weren’t in Roman’s room, he’s not sure he’d be able to recognize this as Roman.

His pristine white costume is stained an ugly brown. The gold trimmings fall limply off, hating on by barely a thread. His hair sticks to the floor in horrid, matted clumps. His hands are speckled and stained with more blood, some congealed and crusted from the puddle on the floor. His legs bend at awkward and uncomfortable angles. One of his arms is stretched away from, reaching for something.

Or anything.

They dare not move. They dare hardly breathe.

Remus takes a step forward. Then another. Then another. He circles the body on the floor, not caring about stepping in the blood, crouching down on the far side. His face is drawn, paler than Janus has ever seen it go, he looks sick.

If…if Remus looks this bad—

Remus looks up at the others. His face darkens.

“Explain,” he whispers, his voice low and soft and dangerous, “now.”

No one can find words to even try.

When no one says anything, Remus crouches down and, with a tenderness that shocks Janus, lays his hand on Roman’s side.

“Roman,” he whispers, almost inaudibly, “Roman, can you hear me?”

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Ro-Bro, it’s—it’s me.”

“Wha’re you…here?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Remus growls, looking up at them again, “maybe no one was.”

“’S fine.”

“Roman, it is about the furthest from fine that it could be.”

“…’ve had worse.”

“…okay I was wrong. That is the furthest from fine it could be.”

Judging by the way Roman’s body slumps, his eyes must fall closed again. “You c’n go. D’n’t have to stay.”

“Not on your life.”

“’S fine, Re,” Roman slurs, “the others will…wonder where you are.”

Remus stiffens. His hand tenses on Roman’s side.

“No,” he says softly, “they won’t.”

Roman twitches, his head rolling up. “‘M sorry, Re.”

“What the absolute fuck are you apologizing to me for?”

“Thought they’d…care.” Roman’s head waivers and drop back down. “‘Bout you.”

Patton can’t stifle his whimper.

Roman twitches again. “Wha…”

“They’re not gonna wonder where I am,” Remus growls, “because they’re here.”

Roman’s going to panic. He’s going to freak out and they’ll have to reassure him. Or Roman’s going to be angry and they’ll have to stop him from hurting himself. Or he won’t believe Remus and that…that might be the worst.

…Janus should really stop thinking that.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’re they here, Re,” Roman mumbles, his body sagging to the floor again, “‘m I late for s’mething?”

Remus snarls and Roman flinches.

“Don’ be mad, Re, please, ‘m sorry—“

“I’m not mad at you, Roman.”

“But you’re mad.”

“No.” Remus stares at them, his voice still even and soft. “I’m enraged.”

Before they can say anything, Roman hisses and jerks. Remus’s hands instantly flit to Roman, searching for whatever’s hurt him.

“What’s happening, Ro,” he growls, “whose ass do I need to kick?”

“You can’t,” Roman wheezes, “can’ stop it.”

“The hell I can.”

“No, you—you actually can’t,” Roman says, reaching for Remus’s hand, “help—help me sit up?”

“Ro, you’re—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“’S fine.”

“I don’t think it is!”

“Please?”

Remus sighs, gingerly wrapping his arms around Roman’s bruised and bloody body. “Come on then.”

Roman’s costume clings to the floor and his back as they sit up, the stain darkening and drying on the belly of his tunic. His head lolls against Remus’s chest, breathing heavily for a moment before he finally looks up.

Oh, his face…

It’s an absolute mess. Blood and salt and other things Janus couldn’t hope to figure out cling to every scrap of skin they can as he squints at them.

“You broke my door.”

“You were in trouble,” Remus replies easily, hoisting Roman to sit properly.

Roman sighs, his breath rattling. “Did I miss a meeting?”

“We…” Logan swallows. “We just came from one.”

“Oh.” Roman closes his eyes. “I’ll…gimme a minute, I’ll—“

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I gotta do the meeting, Re.”

“The hell you do.”

“You—you don’t have to worry about the meeting, Roman,” Logan says firmly, taking a step closer, “we—what happened to you?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What does he mean?” Virgil explodes. “Roman, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Roman hisses again. “Don’ have to shout, Virgil.”

“Of fucking course I have to shout! Look at you!”

“I believe that might be more of a reason not to shout,” Logan says quietly. Virgil huffs, balling his hands up into fists.

“What the fuck happened, Roman,” Virgil repeats, “and don’t pretend like you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

Roman sighs again, something whistling, what happened to him?—and sits up away from Remus. “I can’ shout, come closer.”

Logan and Virgil immediately walk forward, crouching down a respectful distance away. Patton takes a moment longer, creeping forward and reaching out a trembling hand toward Roman.

“K-kiddo,” he mumbles, “I’m so—so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“’S okay,” Roman slurs, leaning back against Remus, “’s okay, Pat.”

“Patton?” Logan turns. “What do you know?”

“Yeah, Patton,” Remus growls, “why don’t you tell us.”

Patton shrinks back. “I—I—“

“Shh,” Roman mumbles, clumsily patting Remus’s hand, “don’ do that, ’s okay.”

“No, Roman, it’s not.”

“...kiddo?”

Roman nods.

Patton takes a deep breath. “You guys know that—how Roman gets hurt sometimes when Thomas does something that, uh, doesn’t turn out great?”

“We all get hurt, Pat,” Virgil says, “that doesn’t explain this.”

As if on cue, Roman hisses again.

“No, no, Virgil,” Patton mumbles, “it’s—Roman’s the only one who gets physically hurt when this stuff happens.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he looks at Roman’s injuries. “Of course…”

Despite everything, Roman smiles tiredly up at him. “Figure it out?”

“You’re the Ego,” Logan mumbles, “and thus it follows that you would get…bruised.”

“Wait, that’s a literal thing?”

“Apparently so.”

“Jeez, Princey,” Virgil mumbles, “you coulda told me.”

“You were busy, didn’t wanna give you anything else to worry ‘bout.”

“That’s not—Roman—“

“But Thomas has been inside,” Logan interjects quickly, “alone, he hasn’t—we haven’t done anything since the pandemic began.”

“It’s a pandemic, Lo,” Roman says, “no one’s doing much of anything…besides staying inside, reading things, watching things…”

“So how is this happening to you, Roman,” Patton says, wringing his hands, “what—what’s doing this to Thomas?”

“Fuck,” Virgil says, burying his hands in his hair, “Princey has this been happening to you since the wedding?”

“Mm,” Roman hums, leaning heavily against Remus.

“People are watching the video,” Logan whispers, “and they’re—well, they’re talking about it.”

“Are they—are they still saying Thomas should’ve…” Paton gulps. “Done something different?”

Logan shakes his head. “I’m sure they are but Thomas…Thomas hasn’t been looking at the comments from the video, not really. Virgil and I have specifically told him not to.”

“So then why is Thomas still being hurt by it? Why are people still attacking Thomas?”

“Not—“ their heads all jerk around to look at Roman— “not Thomas.”

He waves a hand at himself.

“Wouldn’t be like this if it were them attacking Thomas.”

“Then what—“

“They’re attacking you?” Virgil’s eyes go wide as they scan over Roman’s injuries. “Directly?”

“Mm.”

“Oh, kiddo—“

“Princey, what the hell—“

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve—“

“What for?”

In response, Roman’s eyes raise slowly, and look at Janus.

Everyone else follows, looking back toward the door, realizing that Janus hadn’t moved closer with the rest of them.

Roman’s gaze isn’t cold, but it makes him feel cold.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“My name,” Janus breathes, “it’s…they’re mad at you because of me.”

“Told you,” Roman slurs as his eyes close again, “gotta come closer. Can’ shout like this.”

Janus swallows heavily, his throat dry, clutching his cloak tightly around him as he edges closer. Roman mumbles to himself until Janus is close enough to hear him.

“There we go…” He cracks a bloodied eye open. “You’re right. They’re angry at me. Rightfully so, but…yeah.”

“Because you made fun of my name?”

They all rush forward as Roman keens, his hand flying to his gut and hissing.

“Fuck, Princey, is it—is it still happening?”

“Mhm.”

“How do we—how do we stop it?”

“Can’t,” Roman mumbles, “wasn’t lying. Nothing you can do. Not until it’s over.”

“It’s been ages since the wedding, Roman, how much longer is this going to go on?”

Roman makes a vague noise of ‘I don’t know.’

“But—but—“ Logan looks frantically back and forth between them— “surely they can’t all be angry at you, that would be—“

“They’re not,” Roman mumbles, “not all of them, but it’s—it’s most of them.”

“How is that possible?”

“Some of them really don’t like me—“ Roman hisses again— “some of them really like J-Janus or Remus or…or Logan, or Patton—“

“What?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“And some of them just think that it’s—what I did was—“ Roman stifles a whimper, biting his lip— “really bad.”

“But then why…why aren’t the rest of us being affected like this?”

“You’re not the Ego.”

Remus snarls again as Roman jerks, a new bruise blooming on the underside of his neck.

“…ow.”

“We have to get you cleaned up,” Logan mutters shakily, trying to stand.

“Not much point right now,” Roman sighs, absentmindedly nuzzling into Remus, who tightens his grip protectively around Roman, “‘m just gonna get all messy again.”

“Not if we stay with you,” Logan promises, “not if we help.”

“…don’ have to.”

“What the hell are you—“ Virgil shakes his head. “Of course, we’re gonna help you, Roman.”

Roman just looks at them and closes his eyes.

“Ro—kiddo,” Patton says, reaching out for him, “why don’t you believe us?”

“You haven’t exactly…done that before.”

“We didn’t know!”

“You did.”

Patton’s retort dies in his throat. He looks desperately around for something, anything—

Janus is in shock.

Roman…oh, Roman…Janus knew Roman was the Ego, but he didn’t—he hadn’t—

Fuck, were the bruises from what he said still there? Not—not just that awful, awful thing about comparing Roman to Remus, but…from before?

How many times had Janus hurt Roman…and hadn’t cared?

“…I’m sorry, Roman,” Logan murmurs, breaking the silence, “will you let me help now?”

Roman looks up at him. “I’ve been awful to you,” he mumbles, “you don’—don’ have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do,” Logan says, “because you’ve been wonderful to me too…and I am not blameless in this either.”

“But they don’t know that.”

“I do,” Logan says firmly, “and they will.”

The smallest smile tugs at the corners of Roman’s mouth as Logan stands up to go fetch the first aid kit.

“Princey, I—Roman,” Virgil stammers, “fuck, you—oh my god—“

“I’ve been awful to you too, Virgil.”

“And I’ve been fucking worse right back!” Virgil squeezes his hands tight. “And I—you’re the only one who gets yelled at for it. Fuck, I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, I’m gonna—can I help too?”

“…if you want.”

“I’m gonna go help Logan get the shit,” Virgil mutters, getting to his feet and tearing out after Logan.

“…oh, kiddo…”

Patton’s eyes begin to tear up.

“I thought—I thought you needed more time—“

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Pat,” Roman manages, “it’s not fun, trust me.”

Patton’s laugh comes out more like a sob.

“I won’t hold it against you, and you can—“ Roman hisses again— “help if you want.”

“Do you think you can drink something?”

“…I’ll try.”

Patton’s gone in a flash.

Janus looks at Remus. Remus glares at him and pulls Roman closer.

“…we should…try and get some of that off,” Janus tries, “so we can see what, um…”

Remus’s stony silence as Roman starts to drift again cuts off Janus’s words.

“…Remus…”

“You are very, very lucky,” Remus whispers, cutting him off, “that I’m not about to leave my brother’s side for a long time.”

Janus nods.

“Start on the buttons,” Remus says, “at his wrists. I’m not sure how much of this we can save.”

He immediately sets to work, trying to communicate how sorry, sorry, sorry he is with every gentle brush of his fingers against Roman’s skin. Remus summons something for them to lean Roman against as they start to gingerly remove the tunic. It’s worse than Janus thought.

Roman is one big pulsing wound, little nicks here and there and varying shades of purple, red, green, yellow, all coming from one massive sore in the center of him. As they watch, more injuries appear, little bruises that make his breath hitch, and occasionally a small swipe along his ribs. As Janus works the cuff over his wrist, one of his fingers blackens and swells as it breaks.

“Oh, Roman…”

“Sit up, Ro,” Remus whispers tenderly, peeling and unsticking the tunic from his back, “okay, there we go. Are most of them…up here?”

“They all look to be coming from…that,” Janus says, indicating the giant wound, “so…”

And indeed, as they watch, Roman keens again and the wound deepens, more blood beginning to trickle out.

“Are all of these—“ Janus indicates the injuries littering Roman’s body— “comments?”

“Mm.”

“Then what—why is this one…?”

Roman’s eyes drift closed and his head lolls back.

“’Oh, Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache.”

No.

“’Otherwise, between you and Remus—‘” Roman winces as the wound digs deeper— “‘I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.’”

…no…

Janus reaches out a trembling hand and lays it next to the wound. It’s…it’s warm under his touch but…wrong.

A snarl jerks his hand back and he looks up to see Remus glaring at him.

“Remus—“

“Save it.” Remus glances toward the door. “The others will be back in a moment anyway.”

Sure enough, Logan and Virgil bust through the broken door, their hands full. Logan immediately sweeps his gaze over Roman and kneels down, reaching out.

“May I touch you, Roman?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you.” Logan slots a hand gently behind Roman’s hand. “We’re going to try and get the blood off of you first, alright?”

“Mm.”

“This might sting,” Logan cautions, starting to rub an antiseptic towel down Roman’s arm, “my apologies.”

Virgil takes another one and carefully cleans Roman’s other arm, mindful of his broken finger. As they work, Patton reappears, holding a bottle of water and a glass of juice.

“Come on, kiddo,” he says softly, taking Logan’s place behind Roman’s head, “drink this for me?”

Roman manages a few sips of each.

“Good job, kiddo, there you go…” Patton glances down. “Does it seem to be stopping at all?”

As if it can hear him, the wound starts to bleed again.

“Oh, Roman…”

Logan glances between the wound and Janus, his brow furrowed.

Please, Logan, for once…don’t be so smart.

The way Logan’s eyes widen and narrow say that it’s too late.

“This one seems to be the origin,” Logan says instead, turning away, “all the others seem to stem from it.”

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “so what’s that one?”

Janus’s mouth runs dry as Logan turns to him expectantly.

“Well,” Remus growls, “go on.”

“I don’t—what if it just makes it worse?”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

“I didn’t—“

“Oh, shut up,” Remus cuts him off, “you knew. You knew.”

“Remus—“

“You wanna know how I know that?” Remus draws away from Roman just enough to clench his fists. “Because I found you after the wedding. You were all curled up on the floor and you were so upset.”

Roman stirs. “…Re…”

“And I asked you why, and you said it was because Roman made fun of your name,” Remus continues, “and I thought: ‘huh, that feels a little weird. Where have I heard that before?’”

Patton shrinks out of Remus’s line of sight.

“Then I remembered! The courtroom,” Remus continues, a manic smile on his face, “and your little plan to make sure Roman felt like he had no idea what was going on.”

“…J, what is he talking about?”

“Oh, he’s not going to tell you,” Remus says, “but I will.”

“Remus—“

“You said that you knew Roman,” Remus says, talking right over him, “and you knew that if you pushed him in the right direction, you’d be able to get him to listen to you easily.”

Even Logan pauses.

“Do you remember what you said, Janny?” Remus’s eyes bore into Janus’s mind. “Do you?”

“…Remus, please.”

Remus’s grin drops.

“You said,” he whispers, “that if you just fucked with his name, he’d be in the palm of your hand.”

And he was.

"Conveniently, everyone seems to have forgotten that. Forgotten what you did. Or they don't care."

Remus tightens his grip on Roman.

"But not me."

Guilt presses hot and thick against Janus’s throat. Unbidden, huge, fat tears start to form in his eyes as he stares at the wound on Roman’s gasping chest. Distantly, he thinks he can hear the others muttering but all he can think about is how much of this is a lie.

Roman isn’t the evil twin.

Roman isn’t Remus.

Roman isn’t stupid.

Roman isn’t worthless.

Roman isn’t a toy or a puppet or a tool.

Roman isn’t selfish or greedy or arrogant.

Roman is hurt and scared and Janus is so, so sorry.

He lets out a growl of his own and presses his hand hard to the wound.

Lie. Lie.

This is a lie.

Truth is hard and unyielding and painful but nothing is more painful than knowing that all of this is built on a lie.

Janus grits his teeth and concentrates, his hands trembling as he presses it against the wound, searching, searching for—

There.

He closes his fist around the lie and yanks, pulling the words and the hurt and the ache out of Roman’s chest in a bright flash.

When it’s gone, Roman’s chest is heaving, bruises still littering his torso, but the big wound is nowhere to be seen.

Panting, Janus clenches his fist until the lie shatters into pieces, the shard disappearing into harmless puffs of air.

He looks back.

Logan and Patton are staring at him open-mouthed. Virgil has his hands bunched up in his hoodie. Remus just stares at him, his face unreadable.

And Roman…

Roman looks up at him, panting too, but it doesn’t feel quite so wrong anymore.

“I can’t promise that this one won’t hurt you ever anymore,” he vows, “but I can promise that it will never have that much power again.”

Roman reaches out a hand. Janus lets him pull him closer.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

Janus huffs. “I can also promise that you’re not nearly as sorry as I am.”

They let their eyes fall closed as Janus’s hands steady Roman, landing lightly on his sides and just resting there. Roman tips forward and his forehead lands against Janus’s.

For a second, the room just breathes.

“Can we clean you up,” Janus whispers, “the rest of the way?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, Roman,” Logan says instantly, “what do you need?”

“Can I—wanna sleep.”

“I don’t think you’ve got a concussion, so that should be alright…” Logan glances at Patton. “Let’s have you drink a little more and then you can rest, hmm?”

“Okay.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Patton coaxes, “here we go…”

As Virgil and Logan set about cleaning again, Janus runs his hands slowly over every injury he can, plucking out what little lies there are and sending them away. He can tell by the weight of Remus’s stare on him that he’s not in the clear yet, but the way Roman starts to sag slowly makes it easier.

“Alright,” Logan murmurs after a while, “I think that’s all we can do.”

“…sleep?”

“Yes, Roman, you can sleep now. Would you like us to help you to your bed?”

Roman blinks, his hand reaching out for— “Re?”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“Re…” Roman mumbles sleepily as he all but collapses into Remus.

“…yeah I’m okay with that.”

Logan jerks his head towards Roman’s mattress. Together, they drag it down to the floor and help Remus get Roman onto it. Logan murmurs that he’s going to go put the first aid kit away, but that he’ll be right back. Patton gathers up the glasses and leaves with the same promise.

Virgil glances back and forth between Remus and Janus.

“…you guys remember that this is about what Roman needs, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay good.”

Virgil reaches out to brush a little of Roman’s hair out of his face.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

Logan and Patton reappear at the door and slot themselves in around the mattress. Remus looks at Janus.

Janus deliberately sits between Roman and the door, something he’s seen Remus do too many times.

Remus nods.

This conversation is far from over, but right now…

Right now, Roman mumbles sleepily and grabs onto Remus’s sleeve.

There is truly so much that they never see, isn’t there? Logan wasn’t wrong, the amount of Roman that’s never been on camera is truly staggering.

Janus has let that lie of omission cause too much damage for too long.

Right now, he’s got work to do.

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duskholland · 4 years

Text

Lingerie | Tom Holland Smut

summary ↠ your co-star Tom offers to photograph you in your new lingerie, and it only escalates from there.

word count ↠ 3.9k

warnings ↠ this is pretty much just pwp I won’t lie. we’ve got some dirty talk, a lingerie-filled photoshoot, a lil bit of thigh riding, oral (fem receiving) and then MxF sex

a/n ↠ quarantine is doing ~stuff~ to me and I couldn’t stop thinking about the concept of Tom being your photographer and getting more and more riled up so....here ya go. enjoy! this is the first time I’ve posted nsfw stuff in a very very long time, so any feedback would be appreciated :) also a huge thank you to @rhapsodyparker for being my fave hype man - love you mate !

18+ !!!! this contains NSFW material, so do not read if you are a minor.

Spending a few weeks in London with your new co-star Tom and his brothers had been the brilliant idea of your manager. When your schedule had presented you with a some valuable weeks off between projects, she’d suggested that bunking down with him in his London house would be the perfect way to get to know the man before you spend the next months acting out your latest project. You’d seen him around at a few awards shows, and he hadn’t been opposed to hosting you, so with a few heavy suitcases and an open mind, you’d moved into the house he shares with his brother Harry and his best friend Harrison.

It’s been three weeks since you first rolled up, and things are going well. You’ve been enjoying getting to know the guys and the city they love so much, and it seems like every day you grow more and more comfortable around Tom - which is only a good thing, given that your upcoming project requires you to tangle with him in a few risqué scenes. But you’d be lying if you said that your feelings for the brown eyed star are merely platonic, and over the last couple of days especially, you’ve found your thoughts wandering. You catch yourself stiffening as you watch him throw back a pint of beer, his sturdy fingers wrapped carefully around the glass. And something in the pit of your stomach stirs every time he sits by you, his thigh pressing flushed to yours. You’ve even caught him staring at you from across the room a few times, his eyes trailing over your figure, and you haven’t been able to stop yourself from imagining his curly brown hair rubbing at your inner thighs.

It’s a game. A dangerous, heated game, and with every passing day, his eyes seem hungrier as they meet with yours, and he seems to inch closer to you. Neither of you have acted on the sizzling tension that ripples between you, but you know it’s just a matter of time before one of you moves a little too close, or touches the other for a little too long, and it all explodes.

“What have you got there, Y/N?”

You’re pulled from your dirty thoughts by a question coming from the man you’re daydreaming about. Tom walks into the kitchen, raising a hand in greeting as he peers down at the package you’re holding. His deep brown eyes meet with yours as you smile at him in greeting.

“Just some clothes. I’m doing a brand deal and they want me to take some pictures and post them on my Instagram,” you explain. You put the package down on the kitchen table and carefully begin to cut along the seam.

“Getting that money, eh?” You laugh as Tom slips into a chair beside you, watching you curiously with his chin resting in his hands.

“A girl’s gotta make a living,” you reply. “Hey, do you think Harry would take some shots for me? It’s always hard to get the angles right.”

Tom hums beneath his breath. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d be down for that. He and Harrison are out at the moment, though, so you’ll need to wait-“ He falls silent as you tip the contents of the package onto the table, your cheeks warming immediately as you take in the garments you’ve been sent.

Lingerie. Several different pairs of matching bras and panty sets, in a scattering of different colours and designs. You feel your heart beat faster in your chest as Tom stares down at the pieces, his own face blushing a deep red.

“I think Harry might die if I make him take photos of me whilst I’m wearing this,” you admit, picking up a red lacy bralette. Tom’s younger brother has always been nice to you, but he radiates the sort of nervous energy that can sometimes put you on edge, and you immediately know you can’t ask him to photograph you. “Guess I’ll just have to struggle through this by myself,” you mutter dejectedly.

Tom’s eyebrows raise as he looks between you and the lace in your fingers, realisation replacing his shock. He sits up straight, stretching out his arms and his biceps flex as he meets your gaze. “I can always help you,” he offers shyly. You meet his eyes and his tongue slips out to wet his lower lip.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’m not as good as Harry, but I like to think I’ve picked up a few of his tricks.” Tom reaches out, fingers connecting with the tops of your arms, and your breath hitches as he grins cheekily. “Besides, I’m sure I could help you with some of your angles. If you want, of course.”

The question hangs in the air. As his fingers gently trace over your upper arm, you know this is the opportunity to back out. He’s looking at you through heated, brown eyes, but you know he’ll leave it alone if you decide to draw the line here and maintain the professional distance you’ve been slowly narrowing. But you don’t want to, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by a longing for him to keep touching you, and the idea of him photographing you as you lounge around in this new, sexy lingerie sets your heart racing.

“I’d love that, Tom. Are you free just now?”

He nods quickly, the tips of his curly brown hair wafting in the air. “Definitely.”

[-----]

It takes you about twenty minutes to get ready for the shoot. You’ve been around in Hollywood for long enough to know how best to do your makeup and tie your hair, and much to your relief, the lingerie clings to you perfectly. The contract you’d signed states you only have to post photos in one of the sets, so you pick one with a nice, deep burgundy hue and then walk out into your bedroom where Tom’s waiting for you. His wide eyes fall on you and suddenly you get a little self-conscious, reaching up to cross your arms over your chest as his gaze slides up and down your figure, drifting over every inch of exposed skin. When he drags his eyes back to your face and gives you a bit of a smirk, a shiver rolls down your spine.

“You look stunning,” Tom says, voice hoarse. He clears his throat quickly, averting his eyes as his cheeks gain a healthy colour. “Really, Y/N… You look amazing.”

His compliments bring a smile to your face, and you carefully put your hands back to your sides. You feel tentative and shy, but you approach him anyway and pass him your phone. “Thanks, Tom,” you mumble, meeting his eyes quickly. “Um, I was thinking you can just get a few of me the window, and then after that, maybe a couple on the bed.”

“Sounds great.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he chuckles lowly. “I don’t mind at all, Y/N. There are worse things to do than take photos of a pretty girl like you.” You bite your lower lip as you smile bashfully at him.

“Okay,” you say. You move over to the window before adding a quick, “I will pay you back, Tom.” You punctuate your promise with a wink, and then turn around and try out a few positions against the window.

Tom gives you a few pointers as he starts to capture your shots. You know what you’re doing, but his advice helps you twist and angle yourself in the most flattering ways. The main focus has to be on the sponsored lace clinging to your chest, and as time goes by and he gradually moves nearer and nearer to you, your thoughts grow darker. You’d be lying if you said the seductive smiles and soft angles you’re throwing out are just for Instagram. It makes your heart race and a heat build between your legs to have him watching you so intently, occasionally chewing on his lower lip as he works. When you turn around and face the window directly, you arch your back purposefully and you can feel his stare hot on the curve of your ass, and as you throw your head back over your shoulder to meet his flushed face, you know you’ve caught him right in the act of checking you out.

“How are the photos?” You ask, breaking the charged silence after a few moments of sustained, intense eye contact. You relax your position as Tom steps nearer and passes back your phone, but he lingers by your side before draping a hand over your back. His hand rests on your naked hip, his touch gentle but it causes you to push into him greedily. He’s warm and he smells like pine trees and man, and your body is thrumming with so much sexual energy that you can feel your lace panties dampening.

“You look unreal,” he says, watching over your shoulder as you flick through the photos. “I’m not even sure they do justice to how incredible you look right now.”

You smile gratefully, favouriting a few of the shots. “You know, I think we’ve got as many as we need, actually. You did a really good job, Tom. Thank you.” You put your phone on the windowsill and turn to look at him properly. When his hand goes to slip from your waist, you reach down and grab at it, pushing it back into place firmly. His eyes meet yours, a curious questioning mixing with the dark lust, and you give him a smirk. “I know you liked watching me.” Your gaze briefly dips down to his crotch, and the way you can see the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. Emboldened, you lean up and brush your lips by his ear, “If you want me, you can just tell me.”

You keep your lips by his ear. When he reaches up and wraps his other hand around your waist and pulls you closer, you let your mouth drag down his neck, pressing soft, light kisses to his pale skin. You keep going until he whines, and then you suck against his sweet spot and nibble at the skin, teasing him gently until he wraps his fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face up to look at him.

“You’re such a tease, you know that, love?” He speaks, voice dropping an octave. His eyes are on your lips and the deep red lipstick you’ve coated them with, a burning fire dancing in his eyes. “Walking in here with all that lingerie, kissing my neck like that.” His fingers move from your chin and up to cup your cheek. “I want you,” he whispers, mouth brushing yours ever so slightly. The confirmation makes you wrap your arms around his neck, and you place a kiss just beside his mouth, grinning softly.

“Then have me.”

His mouth captures yours in a heated collision of lips and teeth, and you moan into his mouth as his hand slips back into your hair and tugs at your strands. His hot tongue slips into your mouth as you kiss him back passionately, your body burning from all the pent-up frustration you’ve been pushing back for weeks. The hand on your waist slips up to your back, holding you flush against him as his groans, his face flushed and his forehead sweaty, and your core throbs as you hold him close to you.

Tom breaks the kiss after a few mind-numbing minutes, and you know you’ve got lipstick smudged over your face, but you don’t care as he leads you over to the bed. You straddle his waist as he sits up against the headboard, his hungry hands trailing over every part of your exposed skin as your heart rate spikes. His thighs are firm and you can’t help but grind down against one of them as he pulls your mouths together again. The friction you get through your wet panties from his tough black jeans makes you whimper into his mouth, and he pulls back with a lazy smirk on his face, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“You’re so bloody hot,” he murmurs, hand brushing over your arm. “Can’t believe you’re here right now, looking like this. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He leaves a few soft kisses to your shoulder, gazing up at you softly, his brown curls strewn messily across his forehead. Your heart skips a beat.

You run a fond hand through his curls before pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.” Tom laughs but holds up his arms as you pull it up and over his head, and then you roll from his lap as he wiggles out of his tight jeans and throws him aside. He pulls you back to his lap, this time positioning you so your centre rests over his black Calvin Kleins, and you rock down to feel his length pressing up against the fabric. “Shit, Tom,” you curse, the pressure sending rolls of pleasure through your clit. Your forehead falls to his as his hands move your hips, helping you grind against him as both of you feel a little relief. “I want you so bad.”

Tom moves quickly, flipping the position until you’re the one on your back, your head nestled in the soft pillows, and he’s pressed over you, caging you in with a strong arm either side of your head. He catches your lips in another kiss, and when he pulls back, he lets his teeth tug at your lower lip, catching your moan in his open mouth.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, pulling at the waistband of your red panties. You nod quickly and raise your hips as he tugs them down your body, his large hands pressing your thighs up and apart as he settles between your legs, his eyes drifting down your slippy slit. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re absolutely soaked for me.” He drags a light finger through your folds, applying a very light, very teasing pressure to your clit, and it makes you grind down against him. “So fucking needy,” he coos, finally rubbing your tender bud with a little more pressure. As you gasp and fist your fingers in his hair, he moves his face nearer your core. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a cunt this wet and hot for me. Mind if I have a taste, darling?”

His filthy words make your body shake, and the moment you’ve nodded your head, your back arches from the mattress as his soft, warm tongue slips out and wraps around your bud. One of his hands anchors your hips to the bed as the other accompanies his mouth on your core, and you moan loudly as he slips two sturdy fingers into your wet, aching entrance. It feels unbelievable to have Tom pressed between your legs, his fingers curling and pounding into your heat in a way that makes you cry out loudly. And his mouth - oh, god, his mouth - is unbelievable. You can tell he’s enjoying it by the way he works his tongue so smoothly, teasing lightly through your wet folds before circling back to your bud, kissing it and lapping over it and sucking it until you’re a sweaty, delirious mess above him.

Your fingers ache from the hold you’ve got on his hair, and you suck in a breath as you feel your edge approaching. “God, Tom, you’re so fucking good at that. I’m gonna cum if you keep it up.”

For a wonderful moment, you think he’s gonna keep going. He’s got his fingers pressed flush against your sweet spot and it feels so amazing that you’re about to melt, but then he smacks his lips and pulls back, leaving you high and dry and panting desperately on the sheets.

“Oh, what was that? You were gonna cum?”

You blink desperately down at him, surprised to see him looking up at you so confidently, with that teasing smirk dancing over his face. “Tom, I swear to god, you’re such a dick-”

“Shh.” He reaches up and drags his messy fingers over your mouth, and you part your lips to let them in. You swirl your tongue over his digits, humming lightly as you suck off your tangy juices, his eyes watching you darkly. It feels so dirty, but it sends a thrill down your spine, and your core continues to throb as you pull at his shoulders and bring him back up to you. “I think it’s only fair that we cum at the same time, princess? Don’t you?” He whispers.

You release his fingers with a pop, sighing frustratedly as you trail your hands down his toned front. His muscles pull taut and tense, and as you grab a peek at the lines of his abs, you find yourself wondering how you ended up like this with him. He’s so handsome it makes you ache, and it’s as if he can hear your thoughts as he presses a few kisses to your jaw.

“And you call me a tease,” you respond, eyelids fluttering shut as he drags his mouth over your neck. “Stop messing around and fuck me, Tom.”

“Mm, so demanding.”

You grab at his hair and tug his face away from your collarbones and up to your mouth, kissing him hard. “I need you,” you whisper hurriedly against his lips. “I’m going to explode if you don’t fuck me.”

His lips pull into a warm smile. “Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” He replies. “Condom?” You point at the bedside table and he disappears for a few moments, leaving your body cold and empty. Once he’s procured a shiny silver packet, you watch with wide, hungry eyes as he pulls off his boxers, pumps his length a few times, and then rolls this plastic over his tip before you even get a chance to touch him. He notices your pout and bites his lower lip as he moves back over you. “You can touch me next time,” he promises. “Right now, I just want to be with you.”

“Next time?” You mumble, your lips going to his ear as he pushes your thighs apart. You kiss his lobe softly, dragging your teeth over his skin until he whines.

“If you want there to be a next time, of course,” he adds. You make brief eye contact as your heart pangs in your chest, but then you find yourself distracted as his cock rubs through your aching slit and you curse, gripping his shoulder hard.

“I definitely want there to be a next time,” you promise. His tip prods at your entrance and it takes everything in you to keep back a whine. “Now, please, Tom, let me feel you.”

He presses a small kiss to your lips, and then follows through with your request. Your fingers dig into his arms as his length fills you completely and deeply, your jaw falling slack as you moan loudly.

“You’re so wet for me, love. Feels so good around me-” Tom’s voice breaks into a groan as his hips meet yours, finally in as far as possible. “Fuck, wish I could stay like this forever.”

You scatter a series of hot, breathy kisses to his forehead as you adjust to him, before running a hand over his shoulder and nodding certainly. “You can move now,” you say.

He rocks into you gently, exploring your hot heat with care as his hands move all over you. One moment he’s gripping at the lace on your boobs, the next he’s got his fingers slipping over your hard nipples, and after that he’s pulling on your hair. All whilst his cock pushes into you, gradually growing more fervent, your soaking pussy welcoming him in easily. Your groans mix with his as you cling to him, your entire body shaking from the tension building in your body as he fucks you hard and fast.

“I love your pussy,” he rasps, teeth digging into your skin as his sweaty forehead rests on your shoulder. With every thrust, he adjusts the angle, only settling into a proper pace as he hits your special spot and you moan loudly, raking your fingers down his back. “So fucking perfect, baby.” His mouth drops praises all over you and it just makes you feel even more into it as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts.

“You fuck me so well, Tom,” you groan into his hair. The muscles in his back ripple beneath your touch as he fucks you roughly. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.”

He manages to keep himself supported on one arm as the other slips down, his hand roaming between your bodies to find your pulsing bud. As he rubs over your trembling clit, you feel your orgasm build quickly in the pit of your stomach, everywhere feeling alert and hot and needy as you pull him closer.

“Mmm, you gonna cum for me, Y/N? Let me feel you clenching around me as you scream my name?” His voice is dirty and dark and the way his lips curl around your name makes you clench tightly. “C’mon, let go. I’ve got you.”

And he rolls his hips against you just as his fingers rub your clit, and it’s so deliciously hot that your head rolls back and your orgasm peaks. Your chest heaves, the lace wrapped around your breasts pushing up against Tom’s hot chest as you cum noisily, your body tingling as a pulsing warmth spreads out from your centre. Tom grunts and screws his eyes shut as you clench and squirm beneath him, and a few moments later you feel his rhythm falter as he reaches his peak too. You rock together as your highs mix and build, your hair sticking to your face as your moans turn to whimpers and your grip on his arm relaxes, and when he pulls out, you’re left feeling empty but satisfied. You breathe deeply as Tom collapses beside you on his side, his hand grabbing at yours as his eyes find yours, searching your face carefully.

“Wow,” is all you manage to say. You shiver from the pleasurable aftershocks, your body feeling light and tingly and completely fucked out, and when Tom pulls you nearer, you let him hold you in a hug against his hot chest, feeling happily settled in his embrace. “Anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

Tom laughs gently, his hand pushing your hair from your face which allows him to kiss you again. It’s softer now, not burning quite as fiercely as it had before, but it’s still unbelievably nice to have him this close to you, loving on you so tenderly. “You really are something else, love,” he compliments. His eyes sparkle brightly as he squeezes your hand. “And I wasn’t lying earlier, I really would be down to do this again.”

He looks vulnerable and nervous for a second, but you quickly smooth away his nerves as you kiss him softly, gripping at the back of his neck. Your lips fit perfectly together, and it’s as if everything has finally slotted into place as you admit, “I would be more than happy to do this again, Tom. Maybe you can even take me on a date.”

His entire face seems to light up, and he leaves a quick kiss on your cheek as he grins. “I would love that, darling.”

[------]

A few hours later…

[@yourusername has posted a new photo]

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@yourusername: good things come to those who wait...

Comments:

@tomholland2013: 🔥🔥🔥

@fan1: omg do u guys think they’re dating

@fan2: why has she tagged tom on her chest like that

@fan3: omg i ship it

[------]

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

masterlist

taglist ↠ see this post to be added :D

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #woohoo #lowkey highkey inspired by all the cute hot girls i follow on instagram #ooft #my writing #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #wahey #costar!reader #famous!reader #smut

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He’s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don’t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We’ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”

#zemo x reader #bucky barns x you #winterbaron #winterbaron x you #buckybarnes/zemo #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #winterbaron fic #baron helmut zemo #zemo #self insert #yacht life #these two #i love them so much #also ouch

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 3 years

Text

Goodbye - Epilogue (Captain Syverson)

MASTERLIST P1 P2 P3 P4 P5

A/N: I happy cried writing this. I apologize for it’s delay but sincerely hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy!

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, language, a hint of smut, more fluffy domestic goodness, reference to PTSD

***********************************

An arid summer’s eve laid upon them yet a welcoming, cool brisk dispersed through the night’s mellow sky. It was one of those magical July nights, a night that didn’t cause you to swelter miserably. At least not as fast as usual. Y/N gazed up at the array of luminescent stars glistening down on her sighing contently. She eyed the big dipper with ease thinking back to every astrological book she’d homed over the three decades.

Her hand grazed her bulging belly soaking in the last days before her son’s arrival. She leaned her head against the cool cushion contemplating the peaceful the evening. Soon her thoughts drifted to her husband, Sy putting their two miracles, Luna and Oliver to bed. Her eldest, Oliver was the definition of a blessing in disguise. Now her baby was five and the celebration of Luna’s third birthday long past. Where did the time go…every mother greatest fear.

Briefly, Y/N closed her eyes listening to the music laced in the wind. Soon they would be outnumbered, something both of them were slowly coming to terms with. Sy cherished the swell of her belly and the fullness of her breasts secretly wishing for as many kids as humanly possible.

Y/N, on the other hand figured three was plenty but Sy was a tricky one, a handsomely tricky man who worshipped the ground she walked on. A different man from their initially rocky start. Granted, looking back on the beginning of their relationship left a small twinge in her chest, he’d tried his damndest to make it up to her every day since leaving that hospital.

Sy had gone through hell and back clawing his way from death’s vicious grip. Rehabilitation had kicked his ass but he persevered gradually gaining strength after every tedious therapy session. Needless to say, the last couple years weren’t always roses and butterflies. Oh no, there were times when Sy admitted defeat, yelled in unbridled anger, and genuinely resented the cards he’d been dealt.

But it brought them here together, in this moment, forever thankful of their ever-growing family. And for that she would be infinitely indebted for the rest of her days. Thankfully after two intensive years of non-stop motivation and assistance, the only sign of his accident was a minor limp Y/N found absolutely loveable.

Cicadas pierced the silence as lightning bugs alit to life. Sy’s heavy steps protruded along the wood stripped floors making his way towards his magnificent wife. The swivel of the sliding door popped Y/N’s serene daze. A thunderous voice echoed; “Baby?”

Y/N hummed sensing him approach from behind. His meaty hands met the crook of her neck massaging her swollen shoulders. An uncontrollable exhale escaped her.

“Hey good lookin’.”

His lips brushed against her moisturized skin grazing her collarbone before roaming towards the corner of her lip. Taking his own cue, Sy continued his trail of hot kisses down her chest wavering towards her plump breasts. She moaned in pure bliss.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to send me into labor.”

Sy stopped, a chuckle reverberating from his chest; “Ain’t that a good thing?” His Texas twang was the equivalence of freshly churned butter, a noise so familiar her heart still soared to cloud nine.

Choosing to ignore his sass, Y/N found herself staring upwards at the stars and many constellations. Sy’s large frame settled into the chair beckoning her towards the setta lounge chair. Y/N nodded unwilling to deny her handsome husband a minute longer sliding into his lap. His heat immediately emitted to her core warming every bit of exposed skin.

“I see you made it out in one piece?”

Sy’s massive arms engulfed Y/N’s changing body perching his chin atop her shoulder.

“Hardly! If I have to read Uni the Unicorn one more damn time I might have to be committed.”

Y/N jokingly slapped his shoulder; “Oh c’mon. You love seeing Luna’s beaming smile or else you wouldn’t give in to her every night.”

“Sure, she’s cute now but wait til she’s datin.”

“Nope, nope. She’s still gonna be my sweetie.”

Sy considered his wife’s words coming to a conclusion that she was shamelessly right. His girls had him tightly wound around their fingers. He wasn’t your average fool, no he was now a family man fool. If someone told him this is where his life path would’ve led him, he’d have blatantly laughed in their face but now he saw no other future than the one right in front of him. The numerous doctors and therapists saved his life but Y/N truly revived him from the perverse melancholy of PTSD.

The woman who hung the moon, balanced his universe, the woman who miraculously gave life to two healthy children, and the woman he once stupidly shoved aside. That was in the past and for the first time in his life, Sy looked forward to the future, their future.

Together they sat tangled as one listening to nature’s melody. After leaving the city, they’d purchased ten acres ready to rear their children outside of hectic city living.

“Baby, have I told you I love you today? Because if not shame on me.”

“Only bout a million times but who’s counting.”

His arms draped around her waist tenderly rubbing her jutting stomach.

“God, you are so fucking sexy like this.”

“Like what? Bloated and gassy?”

Her sarcasm was undeniable.

“No, horny and swollen with my child.”

“Man, you really know how to get my hormones raging….”

“Seriously babe, I love seeing pregnant. It’s incredibly hot. Bigger boobs, higher sex drive, these curves, I mean who would complain?”

“Ha ha. Well, that makes one of us because I feel like a whale.”

Syverson didn’t miss a beat; “But a very sexy whale.”

“Kids go down easy?”

“If by easy you mean fifteen minutes of reading with light back rubbing, and a fight over that squirrel night light, then yes, they went down easy.”

“Thank you for the peace and quiet. Sincerely.”

“Anything for you, baby.”

“Any more thought on what to name bubba here?”

Y/N caressed her belly protectively searching for catchy names.

“What about… Henry?”

Sure enough, Y/N nodded liking the ring of it; “Henry Syverson. Sounds pretty awesome if I do say so myself.”

He held her jaw lightly guiding her to face him admiring the sparkle in her eyes.

“Well cowgirl, I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I can’t believe we’re about to be outnumbered.”

Her pulse accelerated at the terrifying notion alone but Sy remained calm, cool, and collected.

“Y/N, we’ve got this. You and me, together. We’ve mastered two already, what’s one more?”

Her newfound nerves evaporated. Y/N squirmed trying to stretch her sleepy bones. A sensational moan flowed from his lips. So, Y/N repeated her previous movement wiggling her hips for full effect.

“Darlin, that feels fucking fantastic.”

“Mmm, yeah?

Taking charge Y/N kissed him sliding her tongue along his lower lip. With every passing second the intensity skyrocketed; Y/N passionately kissed him. Syverson devoured her like a man starved deepening the connection. Breathy pants circulated around the air. Before Sy could enunciate another vowel, his zipper was down and Y/N palming his hardening dick. He was damn glad he married a minx. His head back launched against the cushion at the sensation coursing through his veins. Y/N made quick work unbuttoning his pant clasp tugging the offensive material below his knees.

Sy’s fingers danced over her hips clutching at the sheer nightie. Silently taking his cue, Y/N raised to her knees giving him full access. Sy didn’t hesitate ripping the material watching her round breasts shimmer underneath the moonlight.

“God baby. You are gorgeous.”

“And to think you almost passed all this up.”

His laugh was hesitant thinking back on his former idiotic actions. Y/N allowed him a couple seconds of consolation before snapping him out of his self-hatred inner monologue. Her hand gripped his chin forcing his gaze; “Don’t do that, honey. Our past is what saved us. You are the only man for me.”

He plunged two fingers into her soaked pussy jolting her system. Her hips moved as Y/N fucked herself atop him. Sy watched on in awe basking in marvel.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I gotta be inside you. Now.” Choking out the final word Sy knew he wouldn’t last long at this rate. He teased her clit rubbing his bulging tip teasingly along her most sensitive part. Y/N slid down his thick cock relishing in his fullness.

Every push and pull succumbed to a harder thrust. Sy held on for dear life losing himself in her sweet essence. Fireworks sparked beneath her lids as Sy pulsated within her velvety walls. Underneath the stars, two lovers made love uninterrupted for as long as the darkness lingered. Two mind- blowing orgasms later, two lovers remained intertwined and imperfectly in love.

--------------

“Mommy! Dada!”

Little feet pattered down the hallway nearing with every step. Y/N’s lids were sleep heavy enveloped by muscular arms.

“The rascals are awake and on the prowl.”

“Too awake. It’s Sunday! The day definition of rest.”

“Not when you have kids, hon.”

“Quick! Kiss me before the barge in.”

Sy leaned closer admiring his wife’s morning beauty sealing the deal. Milliseconds later their bedroom door burst open as two little people climbed the chest located at the foot of the bed. Grinning smiles in tow, Oliver and Luna snuggled towards their drowsy parents. Oliver landing atop Sy’s bare chest and Luna snuggled Y/N’s welcoming bosom.

“Mama! You pretty.”

Y/N grinned at her beautiful baby girl wondering just where the little baby she gave birth to went. Her heart ached wanting to memorize every last detail.

Sy’s booming bravado could awaken an entire hotel spinning her kids into endless giggles.

“Good morning my cubs!”

“Daddy, we’re not cubs!”

“To me you are.”

Y/N shot him a glare; Sy joined in breaking into a fit of laughter; “Who’s hungry?!”

“Me!”

“Me, me, daddy!”

Jumping up and down, they were ready to greet the day bushy-eyed and energetic. Momma was in serious need of a strong cup of peppermint tea.

“But first lemme kiss baby Hen.”

Too distracted by husband caressing her loving belly, Y/N sighed at the newly created nickname.

“Hen, huh?”

His magnetic eyes travelled to hers; “You like?”

“So much. But let’s address the real elephant in the room… What’s for breakfast?”

Oliver continued jumping as Luna squirmed in Sy’s strong arms.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Y/N feigned coyly suppressing her glee; “Hmm, I’m thinkin…...WAFFLES!!”

“My favvvvorite!!”

Shuffles of tiny feet waddled echoing down the hallway. Sy placed a loving kiss on her forehead; “Take your time sweetheart. I’ll watch the monsters.”

“You’re a godsend.”

“Only for my girl.”

Heavy footsteps followed suit. As much as Y/N treasured the last few months of pregnancy. With that being said she was more than ready to greet her bundle of joy. Out of nowhere a pain shot through her spine down to her pelvis knocking the wind from Y/N.

“Ouch...” She rubbed her stomach; “Hungry little man?”

Again, another kick radiated her body. Y/N ventured forward heading towards the loud noise coming from the kitchen.

Splash. Glancing down, Y/N noticed a puddle between her legs staring wide-eyed; “Shit, shit, shit!”

A dull ache riveted feeling overwhelming pressure on her uterus. Warm liquid dripped down her inner thighs. This could only mean one thing; show time.

“Sy!”

No response.

“Syverson! Get your cute butt up here! NOW.”

Sy magically appeared out of breath, concern written all over his face; “What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

With her contraction temporarily paused her brain was able to formulate words; “I uh, believe my water just broke.”

“Holy shit.”

“Language, damnit!”

Sy threw her a stern spirited look; “Hi, Pot. I’m Kettle.”

“Hush it and make yourself useful. Suitcase is in the hall closet by the front door. I’m gonna grab my slippers. Meet you in a jiffy.”

An arm reached for Y/N; “Ah, ah. Not so fast. I moved them two days ago. I had this weird feeling buggin me and well, ya.”

Taking a deep hearty breath, Y/N collected her impulsive thoughts; “Okay, let’s’ get the littles buckled and do this, baby.”

“One sec.”

Locked in his hug, Sy wanted to remember every detail of Y/N, just like this, in the home they built and the family they were blessed with. Words were no longer necessary. But just as quickly, another wave of contractions hit Y/N sending her hurling over.

“Okay, moment over. Let’s get the show on the road.”

And just like that the once too painful burdens Syverson lugged with him the past years vanished never questioning his luck and life again eternally grateful to the woman who simply said I do.

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

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#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x y/n #captain syverson x y/n #my writing #goodbye #henry cavill fluff #cpt sy #syverson #bernie sanders #netflix #captain sy #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill drabble

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shorkbrian · 3 years

Text

Problem

Prelude - Don’t come @ me pls I tried to be pOeTiC and artsy okay lol

Pairing - Keigo Takami X Reader

Warnings - no NSFW, religion, blood mention, nonconsensual touching.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4SQ0ytpTP8v1Rx8FWR22cv?si=d_i0QJowT9yF-b6rZMOKvw

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

People often don’t notice the little, gradual problems.

Cluttered desks, dishes in the sink.

The thing that stands in the corner at night.

You only noticed it after it started to move, creeping closer, sitting in your chair, bright golden eyes piercing through the dark.

His name is Keigo, he tells you, and there’s no reason to be afraid.

Of course, that doesn’t stop fear from icing over your veins, stomach twisting, hands clutching at your blankets as if they were a shield to protect you from the strange entity that had haunted your bedroom for so long. You had done so well, pretending that the shadow was nothing but a trick of the light, that there was nothing there except a chair filled with dirty clothes.

He doesn’t come any closer, crosses his legs in the chair he occupies, tilting his head as the two of you stare at each other.

His name is Keigo, and he’s an angel.

-----

The angel has been with you all your life.

He is able to recount the days you’d spent in your room, crying and begging God for something different, to take your pain away. The moments you thought you had been alone, forgotten.

The troubles you’d overcome, the faint flashes of happiness that filled your life and made you feel light and warm. Keigo even remembered the color of your bedroom walls in your childhood home, the small scribbles you’d made in the corners, near the baseboards. How you’d get in trouble for leaving your mark on your world, be punished for taking up space.

You were too young to remember that.

But Keigo remembers.

He was there for all of it.

When you confide in him your fears, small whispered thoughts, Keigo listens.

“I feel so lonely all the time.”

“You may feel lonely, but you’re never alone. The plants in your window love you, for you give them life. Your bed welcomes you with the arms of a lover after a long day, loves to hold you in it’s embrace. The ground welcomes the steps of your feet, how you shape it’s very existence just by being present. You’re an entire ecosystem, your flesh sculpted from the earth. Your blood is brewed from rainwater, thousands of creatures live inside of you and on your skin. And of course, you have me. I am never far from you, you’re never truly alone.”

Life doesn’t seem as bad.

-----

The angel usually only appears at night, when you’re tucked in bed, fresh from a shower. You’ve come to like his visits, no longer feel trepidation when he shows up in the corner, materializing out of thin air.

He doesn’t look like what you think he should. There are no heavy wings, no countless eyes, no sharp halo adorning his head. No white robes or silken clothes, just tattered jeans and a hoodie.

But he doesn’t look exactly human either, with his golden skin and molten eyes. His fingers are long and slender, made for music and praise. The curve of his soft lips makes it easier for him to worship, to condemn or guide his charge. Hair that looks too soft, like liquid gold that flows from his scalp. You want to touch, but you’re afraid to ask.

You notice that the plants in your house flourish at night, when Keigo is around. The tender stalks seem to reach for his presence, follow his form greedily, as if he has a gift that he’s withholding from them. Flowers bloom and vie for his attention, and Keigo laughs, touches the petals gently and watches the blossoms burst with color and growth.

His existence as an angel is unquestioned, not when he proves to you that he knows you to a degree that you don’t even know yourself. The freckles decorating your skin, those are all from him. It’s true that they’re angel kisses, given to the people they favor, that they watch grow.

They’d dusted across your nose as a child, light and varied. Darkened as you’d gotten older, appearing on your hands and peppered over your face in no particular pattern.

It makes you blush, and at first you don’t believe him, thinking he’s playing with you. But Keigo moves to the edge of your bed, gently takes one of your hands in his own, and lifts it to his lips.

A freckle appears when they press to your skin, a dark mark pushing to the surface.

You spend the next day looking at each of your freckles in the mirror, studying the marks that mar your skin. They’re sprinkled across your shoulders, you’re collarbone, your ankles. It’s strange to think that each mark is evidence of a kiss. Why would the angel kiss you?

When you ask him the next night he visits, Keigo pauses.

“Sometimes… there’s a hole in your soul, and that’s just the way things are. And you try to fill it with various things; songs that make your heart waltz, views that make your eyes long for more, raindrops against your skin. I’ve found the most effective way to fill it is with being with the person who makes the world seem less bad.”

How can an angel feel incomplete? “Are you not God’s perfect creation?” You ask.

Keigo sighs, and says no more.

-----

“Why is that book your favorite?” Keigo has read it before, scouring the pages to try and find pieces of you in it. He’s read all of your books, picked up every single thing you’ve ever touched, ever looked at, jealous of the way it had caught your attention.

You don’t know.

You don’t know why you love the book clutched in your hands. You just do. Keigo thinks he understands.

He’s been visiting earlier and earlier, while the sun still rests above the horizon. The angel never asks about your day, he’s there for every moment, just never visible to you.

He’s the warmth that soothes your skin when it’s cold out, when you’re afraid that your jacket won’t be enough to stave off the chill. Keigo whispers reminders into your ear, a little tickle that helps you remember to turn in sale reports on time, or what time you’re supposed to meet with a new client. He never gets the credit for all that he does, but that’s okay.

Your thoughts turn to him constantly, mind churning with questions. Why show himself now? Is that allowed? What is heaven like? Is God kind?

Keigo brushes these questions off, frowns when you ask them. He won’t talk about his holy father, nor his own role as a guardian angel. You learn to hold your tongue.

The angel prefers to talk with you, or sit in silence as you tend to your evening tasks. You think he might be lonely.

——-

You wake up sometimes with warmth still on your skin, more freckles dotting along your body. But there’s already so many, the new ones go unnoticed.

Keigo is never around those days.

“Why do you not visit?” You ask him, saddened by his absence. Was it something you did wrong? Were you no longer worthy of his presence?

“I met someone that reminds me of warm toned skies. I’m afraid of what I might do to them.”

You don’t know what that means. Asking the angel to clarify results in a long silence, and you look out the window of your house to take in the stars, the clouds that try and hide them from view. You wonder if Keigo knows their names.

“I saw you in my dreams” Finally, the angel answers, golden eyes fixed on his hands folded in prayer in his lap.

“You dreamed of me?” You didn’t know angels could dream.

“At first…. Now I think of you. I..... I love you on purpose, I love you intentionally.” The confession is weighty, said slowly and quietly. Golden eyes find your own and search for acceptance.

What do you do when an angel confesses their love?

When you stay silent, Keigo disappears.

Sleep does not come easy that night.

——-

“Nothing you humans do ever matters. All that really matters is what you do.”

He’d appeared after a time, a few weeks where you stared at the chair in the corner and saw nothing. You weren’t sure if you were glad that he was back.

Keigo was critical of your actions, hovering behind you while you tended to the plants in your home, lounging on the counter while you cooked meals, sitting near you while you read and making you nervous at his unwavering company.

“So the meaning of life is to give life meaning?” You had answered his subtle jab, and Keigo had shown you his teeth in a smile. It looked much less like a smile, more like a gesture of a puppet, a mockery of a human with too many teeth. He didn’t say whether you were right or wrong.

Safety was no longer the prevalent feeling when Keigo was around.

The angel does not have the same restraint he used to exhibit. He touches you now, unashamed of his needy nature, how he craves your humanity, fascinated by the intricacies of your life, the thoughts that run through your head.

It makes you uneasy, his hands cold as ice when they find your own. But who are you to tell an angel they are wrong?

He never misses a night spent in your presence, even when you think he does. The angel waits till you’re asleep, creeps past your defenses and indulges in human comforts.

You always murmur in your sleep when he slips into your bed, when his cold, cold vessel presses against your warm body. Keigo wonders if he could steal some of your warmth, carry it with him.

“You look perfect even when you’re half asleep and not speaking proper English. I am so in love with you, it feels like I’m floating all the time” You don’t hear his words, but he says them anyways.

-----

His residence is overbearing.

You find yourself spending more and more time away from your home, spent at work, where he doesn’t appear. Nights are spent with friends, drinking in their homes, sharing stories about romantic endeavors.

A small part of you knows that Keigo must be nearby, being your guardian angel. But he never materializes around other people.

The angel grows desperate for your company, invades any spare moment you have, while you’re using the bathroom, showering, when you’re early for a meeting and alone in the conference room.

His demeanor is casual, relaxed, but you begin to see the outline of his wings, blood red plumage displayed across his back.

Strong emotions bring out their wings, you had learned. A dropped glass had wings flashing behind Keigo as the angel was caught off guard, and you’d begged for him to show you them.

He couldn’t make them visible at will, he had explained. They only showed if an angel was experiencing strong emotions, strong feelings.

Their appearance now made you afraid.

You tried to talk to Keigo one rare night you spent at home, work out your differences and soothe his feelings towards you, the jealousy and the anger that sank deep into his being.

“I don’t know how to make this better. I don’t have feelings for you the same way you feel for me” You had confessed.

Keigo’s eyes had blazed, yellow fire flickering in the iris.

“My body forgot what it felt like to be warmth. You’re the sun that I step into, the rays that fall upon my back and warm my wings, the heat that fills my heart and spills from my lips.”

He was passionate, gripping your arms with too-hot skin, and it burned.

“Before you go to sleep at night, you water your flowers, your plants. In the light of your window I can see your body wrapped in your nightgown, and you’re indistinguishable from the blossoms.”

The pain seared deep into your bones, and you felt anger, true anger at the celestial body in front of you. Never had you asked for his affection, for his protection.

“I have thought about my love for you, and the ways I could describe it are innumerable. You’re so human and it makes me want, and I don’t know what to do with the fire burning within me. I love you-“

You’re screaming at him then, and the sky turns dark the same moment you thrash out of his burning grip. Harsh words are said, things you should’ve expressed months ago, when the angel broke your boundaries into pieces and did what he pleased.

But the courage was here now, the bravery to defy an angel, to say that it was wrong, that you didn’t want them around anymore.

The sky crackled with lightening, and Keigo’s wings filled out, full of sharp, dangerous feathers. You had wondered about the color, why they were red instead of white, but as it began to rain, the red sloughed off, dripping to the ground in thick rivulets.

His blood-red wings were colored with the spatter of the sins he’d committed. But Keigo never talked about his sins, never about heaven.

Now he did, shouting at you with his thunderous voice, telling you of the lengths he had gone to in ensuring his existence in your life. How he’d begged at the feet of God to be allowed to show himself to you, to express the desire growing inside of his traitorousus body.

How he’d been shamed, shunned.

He’d shown himself to you anyway, took each reprimand in stride. When another angel had been assigned to you after the golden one’s confession, Keigo had broken, fought with teeth and claws.

The blood of his brothers tainted his wings.

So much had been sacrificed to stand by your side.

There had been no grand plan, Keigo had seen you and knew he wasn’t like the other angels. He was different, able to feel and touch and learn.

The two of you scream at each other, you spitting hateful things, how you wish he would leave you alone.

Keigo doesn’t care, you’ve made him feel and he’s not letting that go.

Lightening strikes a tree and it erupts into flames, and the tears running down your face are hidden by the pelting rain.

You hate him, he scares you.

It’s said out loud, and the angel stops in his tracks, looking at you with emotions you can’t begin to understand.

He leaves in a rush, his wings still stained red despite the cleansing water streaming along them.

——-

Keigo leaves you alone.

Your flowers start blooming again, even without the addictive presence of a holy angel.

The freckles dotting your skin fade, and you don’t mind, you don’t miss the marks that litter your thighs, your chest, the marks you’d never allowed to be made.

Life is okay again. You can breathe.

“It’s cold again and I miss you” His voice makes you drop the glass in your hands, and it shatters against the floor.

His wings materialize for a second, red as blood, dripping.

But then the angel is waving his hand, and the shards of glass on the ground are gone, the puddle of water, his wet wings.

Keigo has something to say to you, and he wants you to listen.

“I’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you. But I didn’t. And, in truth, it was maybe better that I didn’t - I say that now, though it was something I regretted bitterly for a while.” He keeps stepping closer to you, until he’s in your space, heavenly body inches from your own. He feels like marble, a chill emanating from his golden skin.

“More than anything I was relieved that in my unfamiliar wanting-to-talk state I’d stopped myself from blurting out the things on the edge of my tongue, the things I’d never said, even though it was something I knew well enough without me saying it out loud to you like this….. which is, of course, I love you”

“This won’t work, Keigo.” You explain, voice small. “We aren’t the same. I have someone out there meant for me, and it isn’t you.”

He frowns, takes your hand in his, interlaces your fingers. The angel presses a kiss to your knuckles, the same as he did the first time you met him.

“If soulmates do exist, they’re made, not found. You build a relationship with the person that makes your heart happy. I demand the labor of love so that I may make it. Craft so that I may make it art. So that I may make it mine.“

You don’t get any more say in the matter.

-----

His love is all consuming.

It grows and burns with each moment he spends with you, leeching off of your warmth.

People often don’t notice the little, gradual problems.

They don’t notice until the problem becomes unfixable.

#keigo #keigo x reader #takami keigo #keigo imagine #keigo x y/n #bnha keigo #keigo takami #keigo headcanons #angel #angel keigo #yandere #almost

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ihearthes · 3 years

Photo

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons.

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once.

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip.

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person.

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state.

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset.

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs.

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks.

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling.

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway.

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move.

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy.

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?”

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth.

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they?

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down.

“On what?”

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand.

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.”

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram?

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone.

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up.

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait?

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll.

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth.

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro.

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi.

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun.

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?”

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year.

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server.

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.”

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room.

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles.

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines.

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator.

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset.

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere.

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart.

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment?

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset.

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them.

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass.

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it.

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it.

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong.

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose?

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces.

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year.

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them.

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles.

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction.

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing.

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking?

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep?

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years.

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out.

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of.

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that’s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now.

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath.

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments.

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.”

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year.

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted.

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.”

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean.

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage.

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue.

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude.

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously.

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly.

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry.

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating.

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question.

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming.

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either.

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one?

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---”

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it.

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages.

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset.

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her.

“Do you think that perhaps we could…”

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently.

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...”

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers. I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #my writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry fanfiction #original writing #harry styles imagine

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fellulahh · 4 years

Text

MC and her friends accidentally summon Satan

MC was feeling distant as she sipped her drink. While her friends continued talking around her, she couldn’t help but stare at the table as she began to daydream.

“So what’s the plan after we finish these drinks?” Her friend asked as she downed her glass of wine.

“You want to go clubbing?” Another asked.

“Clubbing?!” Her friend laughed, “I’m not that drunk. Can you imagine how old we’d look in there now? It we’re going clubbing it has to be in a city!”

“I have an idea.” One of her other friends spoke up, catching everybody’s attention.

“Uh oh.”

“No don’t say that!” The friend spoke defensively, “now hear me out before you say anything.”

“Right...” the female said slowly, growing suspicious of what strange idea she may have.

“I was doing some reading last night—“

“Oh not more paranormal malarkey! I suppose you’re going to ask us if we want to summon a spirit, aren’t you?” The first friend asked as she poured herself a big drink.

“Not a spirit...a demon.”

Suddenly MC perked up in her seat. “A demon?” She questioned, wanting to make sure she heard her friend clearly.

The rest of the group didn’t seem so enthused. “Come on love, don’t you think we’re a little old to be summoning demons?” One laughed, throwing back more alcohol down their throat. “I suppose you’ll want us to go in the bathroom and say Bloody Mary three times after?”

“It was only a suggestion! It probably wouldn’t even work...”

“Well I’m up for whatever, anything that’ll keep me away from my husband.” Another friend laughed, “I’m game! It’s something different isn’t it?”

Eventually everyone was on board. MC couldn’t believe that her group of four friends were actually interested in summoning a demon. Usually they’d spend the night drinking and would perhaps head into town for a cocktail but apparently her friends were feeling adventurous tonight.

All moving into the lounge of the host’s house, they sat in a circle while MC remained quiet. “Is this dangerous?” One friend asked worried.

“Probably.” Another shrugged, “cant be anymore dangerous than that pub you took us to last week though.”

“Hey! Google said it had a 4 star rating.” She spoke defensively.

“And what’s that based on? How many hairs you get in your food?” The friend laughed.

“Come on now.” The summoner spoke up, “if we’re going to do this we have to do it properly.”

Hesitantly, they all agreed. The friend went through everything that needed doing and what they all had to say. MC went along with everything - she didn’t want to act suspicious. Eventually, after everything was explained, they were all ready. The lights had been shut off, candles were lit and a large pentagram was drawn in the middle of the room using salt.

Slowly, they began repeating sentences in Latin as they all held hands. Almost instantly the atmosphere changed and MC began to grow nervous. Should the summoning actually work would she be scolded for this? What if Diavolo showed up and expressed his disappointment with her?

“It’s working!” The summoner whispered as smoke began to emerge from the floor, “remember, don’t speak to it or else you give it permission to enter your soul.”

MC began to regret her choices as she saw a nebulous green fog fill the room. In fact, a lot of her friends began to worry as they realised it wasn’t just a joke anymore.

Something was coming.

The room began to shake and instantly they all let go of each other’s hands, fearing what was about to happen.

“I knew we should have gone clubbing!” A friend cried as she ran and cowered behind a chair.

With all of her friends hidden behind various objects in the room, MC was left standing alone. “Get down, MC!” A friend seethed as objects began falling off the shelves.

She couldn’t though. Her mind was too caught up wondering who or what would appear. Breaking out of her trance, MC turned around to see her terrified friends peek out from behind their hiding spots. Their eyes widened completely as a figure appeared.

Feeling the fog encase her, MC didn’t anticipate hearing a familiar voice from behind.

“MC?” He asked amazed.

She recognised it instantly.

“Don’t listen to him!” A friend cried, “he’s manipulating you!

MC didn’t listen though. Slowly turning her body, her face softened completely as she was met by the blonde haired demon. “Satan?” She asked in disbelief.

“MC, stop it! You’re putting yourself in danger!” Her friend worried.

“Why have you brought me here?” He asked, studying her face carefully.

Stepping forward, Satan emerged from the fog so that he could see the human clearly. It was like he was dreaming as he felt her warmth radiate off her body.

“We summoned you.” She whispered, finally acknowledging her friends.

Her friends were beginning to grow wary. “Does she know him?” They whispered to one another in disbelief.

“I think I’ve had too much wine...” another mumbled, thinking she was hallucinating.

“You know that’s not safe, don’t you?” He worried, cupping her cheeks with his hands. “It’s not just us brothers that you could have summoned, MC...”

“And yet I’m still lucky enough to have you appear...” she bit her lip with a grin, completely ignoring Satan’s concerns.

He wanted to scold her for seemingly not realising the danger she put herself in but seeing her face for the first time in months filled his body with warmth.

“Why do you have to be so reckless?” He sighed before breaking into a smile.

Seeing his face brighten up, MC threw her arms around him; engulfing him in a tight hug. Satan tucked his chin in the crook of her neck as he swayed her body gently.

Meanwhile, her friends were left gawping at the pair of them. “Did she say his name is Satan? Like the Satan?” One asked bewildered.

“Wow...Satan’s kinda hot...” another admitted.

“Let’s see who else we can summon!” The last friend cheered, grabbing her glass of wine.

#obey me #obey me shall we date

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bebepac · 3 years

Text

Ri-Liamo de Bergerac (Happy birthday Zoehanji )

Happy birthday @zoehanji !!!!!

Original Post date: 04/27/21 at 9:52PM EST (4/28 where you are celebrating your birthday!!!)

I have no idea when we started talking but we did, somewhere in the beginning of my writing journey on this site. Even though I still consider myself to be a beginner here. Thank you for being my friend and being a fellow long distance cousin, as our relative in common would be Drama Whore! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I hope you enjoy this. I know that Fast Forward has always been one of your favorites.

The Book: TRH and Beyond

Pairing: Liam x Riley / Maxwell x Taylor (Maxwell x F!OC)

Warnings: Sexual Innuendo and fluff.

Word Count: 1889

Summary: Maxwell and Taylor go on their first date. Both are nervous and ask Liam and Riley for an assist.

A/N: This is a little similar version of Cyrano de Bergerac, not in the take that someone has a big nose, no one does, but the aspect of someone getting help in a conversation by using someone else’s words. I did ask around to see if anyone had done something similar to this. No one recalled of a similar story, so any similarities to anything currently on the fandom is completely unintentional.

I also used @theworldofprompts prompt: "All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you." which will appear in bold.

Song inspiration for this. I heard this song while i was desperately needing to calm down while i was listening to the calm station on my pandora and I came across this song and enjoyed it so, so here it is for you all to enjoy too. I feel like it has a little sweet nervous energy, but then the music builds like you’re getting used to being with someone. it’s truly a beautiful piece.

First Love by Yiruma

I don’t own rights to the music. But i’m quickly becoming a Yiruma fan. Every song was amazing that i heard today and it had such a unique feel. I could pick them when they started playing on pandora.

Riley raised her eyebrow at Maxwell. She saw him pacing nervously as he kept glancing in Taylor's direction. Taylor was completely oblivious as she had her nose buried in a book she'd gotten from the estate library.

Finally Maxwell had psyched himself up. He walked over to Taylor sitting in the lawn chair next to her.

"Hey Softie."

Taylor put down her book, as did Ellie as she was sharing the oversized lounge chair in the sun with Taylor. Both lifted their sunglasses to their hair.

"Lord Playlist?"

"So I was wondering if you want to have dinner tonight."

"Silly Uncle Maxwell, we eat dinner every night." Ellie confirmed matter of factly.

"What Riley Jr. said." Both Taylor and Ellie picked up their books again, sliding their glasses back to cover their eyes.

Riley laughed to herself. Oh my God Taylor she thought. She is absolutely adorably clueless.

Liam laughed softly. He gently rubbed Riley's stomach.

"Aren't you glad we're married? We don't have to do that."

"You were never like that."

Liam blushed. "I felt like that when I talked to you the first time. I don't even remember what I said on the street to you. I was so dumbfounded by your beauty."

"You don't remember me being so awkward, Liam?"

Liam shook his head. "You… were perfect, is all I remember, My Love."

A light blush hit Max's cheeks.

"What I meant Softie, was you and me alone, away from the estate."

Taylor slowly lowered the book again, her eyes slowly meeting Maxwell’s.

"So like a date?"

"I mean date is a strong word, but it could be an accurate one. Two people dressed nicely eating food together at the same table. I mean I'm not opposed to the idea if you are."

"Auntie Taylor likes food, and to dress nicely. You should see Auntie Taylor's dress for the ball. I picked it!!!!!"

"Excuse me Miss Crown Princess read your book."

"So… whaddya say Softie? Dinner tonight?"

"Sure. Riley Jr. nailed it pretty much."

"Great! I'll meet you out front at seven."

Great."

"I swear this baby likes to just sit in there and poke my bladder for fun." Riley tried to roll out of the lounge chair she was on. “A little help Liam?”

Liam immediately jumped up to assist Riley to her feet.

"You just went thirty minutes ago."

"You tell your daughter that."

Liam affectionately rubbed her stomach, kneeling to plant a soft kiss on it.

"Little One be nice to Mommy. She has kept you safe all this time and we still have a few weeks to go. Let Mommy relax.."

Riley had stepped out of the lavatory only a few steps when Taylor descended on her like a ninja.

"Jesus Christ! Taylor you almost scared the crap out of me, and the way this baby has my bodily functions out of whack it could have legit happened!!!"

“Ew. Riley. Gross. Another reason I won’t procreate. Did you see, Maxwell asked me out!!!! On a date!!!!"

Riley laughed. "Because he likes you, and you like him."

"What are we going to talk about alone?!?!"

"You guys talk, and you are texting back and forth all the time."

"We talk in a group Riley. All Me and Maxwell do via text is meme war each other."

“Huh?”

"Our whole texting conversation… nothing but memes!!!"

She swiped on Maxwell's conversation in her phone it was nothing but pictures.

"It's okay, I'll get an ear piece set from Nico, and help you.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would. Can’t have your first date with the guy you like nothing but uncomfortable dead air.”

“Thanks Ri. Can you keep this between us?”

“Sure! Do you need help picking an outfit for tonight?"

"Nope, with the outfit, you kind of already did when you gave me my new wardrobe. If I can’t pick from there, I’m truly an idiot."

Little did Riley and Taylor know Maxwell and Liam were having a similar conversation.

“Liam I didn’t think she would really say yes!!! She said yes!!!! She said yes…..”

Then it looked like the gravity of the situation crashed into him. Maxwell looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

“Calm down Maxwell. Taylor likes you. It’s easy to tell from the trained eye. She lets down her guard around you.”

“What are we going to talk about? I can’t talk about peacocks all night. Or Memes. She’ll think I'm a complete buffoon. I don’t even have reservations anywhere. I asked her on a nice date and I don’t even have reservations ANYWHERE!!!! What am i going to do?!?!?!

Liam grabbed Maxwell by the shoulders. “Get a hold of yourself man!!!! And take a breath, your face is turning blue.”

Maxwell took a few cleansing breaths.

“Don’t worry about the reservations, I can handle that. It’s good you are friends with the King and Queen. And for conversation I can got it. I’ll get an earpiece from Bastien, and you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t tell Riley. She still hasn’t let go about the fact of my baby hippo tattoo.”

“Nor will I thank you for reminding me of it.” Liam laughed loudly.

Maxwell and Taylor left on their date. Both Liam and Riley made excuses to not be in the other’s company for the evening.

Both Liam and Riley were pleasantly surprised being a whisper in someone’s ear how well the night was going. Both couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the moments between the two of them felt, and how perfect they were for each other.

“I can’t tell you enough Taylor how beautiful you look to me tonight. And I know you’ve had trouble seeing yourself that way when it comes to that word. But you are Taylor.”

She heard her sister softly gasp. Tears filled Riley’s eyes.

Tell him Thank you, and that you wanted to look nice…. For him.”

Taylor parroted her words.

Taylor starred at the menu. None of it was in English and she had no idea what any of it meant.

I wish I had your eyes right now Riley. Taylor thought.

The conversation was sweet and romantic. It was the perfect date. Maxwell reached across the table taking Taylor’s hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Yes.”

As they danced, Taylor started relaxing in Maxwell’s arms.

“You know I have a hard time sharing my emotions sometimes. All the time..”

“I know. And that’s okay. We can take this slow. There’s no rush Softie.”

This felt familiar to Liam.. Too familiar. He knew those words…..her words.

Riley felt the same way but she couldn’t be sure.

Both had gotten up from their desks to investigate to see what the other was up to.

Taylor had never felt like a moment was so perfect and what Riley said, she really felt in her heart.

"All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

“Riley?” But she had the feeling, it wasn’t Maxwell’s question.

Taylor pulled away from Maxwell.

“Liam?”

Liam and Riley stared at each other in the hallway.

He touched her ear feeling her ear piece and she touched his, feeling the same.

“I knew it was you.” They both said in unison.

“I could feel your heart Riley, through the words even though it wasn’t you saying them.”

“I could feel you too.”

From the earpieces they could hear Liam and Riley kissing and the sounds of commotion.

“Bedroom, now?” Liam's voice deep, rumbling with desire and need.

“YES LIAM!" Riley cried out.

"OH GOD!" Taylor shrieked.

Both Maxwell and Taylor ripped out their earpieces.

“Well that escalated quickly.” Max cleared his throat looking at their earpieces that were laying on the table. “Won’t be using those for the rest of the evening.”

“Why did you think you needed help on the date Maxwell?”

“Because I’m awkward, when I’m around you.”

“No you’re not. You’re funny, and really nice. I’m the awkward one. I don’t know how to do this normally. I’ve never had a healthy romantic relationship before.”

“That’s okay. I haven’t been in many relationships before either. We can learn together.”

“So can I be honest with you? I have no clue what the hell I ordered. This place is nice but it’s too much for me. I’m guessing it was Liam’s idea? Can we go somewhere else?”

“I know just the place.”

Maxwell and Taylor left that restaurant, and when they got to the second place, Taylor’s smile widened.

“Now stop me Softie if you’ve ever heard this one, a dashing noble wearing a squid tie with an affinity for peacocks, and a Queen of Cordonia lookalike walk into a bar…….”

Date one for Maxwell and Taylor part two was them dressed up like they were going to the ball, eating burgers and drinking cheap Cordonian Beer, playing pool. And it was perfect.. For them.

No. Dead. Air. Conversation flowed easily between the pair.

“Wow. I can’t believe the earpiece stayed in.”

“You don’t think they heard anything did they?”

“I’m sure they probably took them out.”

"Can I ask you something?"

He could hear the slight sadness in Riley's voice. "Sure, you can ask me anything."

"Do you think I'm cool?"

Liam laughed out loud but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Riley's face.

"Of course you are Riley."

"Then why is Ellie my sister's shadow right now? Why do I feel like she wants nothing to do with me?"

"Riley… it's not that. This pregnancy has been rough on you. You know how active our children are, and how active you were with them. Even while you were pregnant. Well….Taylor fills that spot for what you aren't physically able to do right now. Before it was me. I think you notice it more now because it is her.. But yes, it is clear Ellie adores Taylor. They have bonded and really love each other. “

"It was just so hard when I came back from California Liam. She hated me."

"She didn't. She loved you, and it was my doing that put a wedge between you and her. She was hurting Riley. I did that to her. Not you. I’m sorry for that."

“It’s okay Liam.”

*^*^*^*^*^* Breakfast next day *^*^*^*^*^*^*

“How was dinner last night Taylor?” Riley asked.

“It was great. We went for Burgers and beers.”

“That’s nice.”

Liam lightly cleared his throat.

“So……..”

“We didn’t hear anything. We both ripped our ear pieces out when we heard where things were heading.”

“Riley you’re about to pop, how is that even aerodynamically possible right now?!?!?!”

“Oh it’s possible!” Liam chuckled. “God yes it’s possible.”

“Taylor it’s like when the amusement park is about to close and you want to get on your favorite ride one last time. Even if you’ve had too much food and you’re full and you might throw up. You got to get on that ride one more time.”

“You went to a carnival Mommy?”

“No, she just went on a royal scepter ride. God did I say that out loud?” Taylor slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God!!! Can we change the subject now please?” Liam inquired, beads of sweat were forming on his face.

“Yes please because this conversation went incredibly awkward!”

Riley laughed looking around the table. The adults looked like they wanted to climb out of their skins and her children looked either confused or unaware of what was happening.

Tags in the Comments!!!

#bebepac writes #birthday fics #happy birthday zoehanji #trh fanfic #trh fandom #liam and riley #maxwell x taylor #fast forward #the world of prompts #choices fic writers creations

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