#DJ takes up the entire couch and Will Not Move

[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. winter, the first time. the start of the year, the start of it all. minors dni, nsfw warnings under the cut. 7k words part two part three part four part five

18+ because: brat taming, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, spit, unprotected sex, overstimulation, booty call!, masturbation (f receiving), voyeurism, mad sass, fucking porn without plot basically.

There’s nothing special about the club scene in Monte Carlo. If you’ve been to a club in any major city, anywhere in the world, you’ve been to a club in Monaco. It’s all neon lights and kaleidoscope colors and poorly lit dance floors and mid-tier DJs who think they’re the next coming of Jesus. 

Tonight is no exception. The air is thick and heavy with the scent of floral perfume and alcohol, the entire room shaking with the pulsating beat of the bass, reverberating off every single corner and shaking the liquor in your glass. Bodies move—yours included—half in sync with the music, half in step with their drunken stupor. Perched in the safety of Charles’s section, away from the swaying forms of laughter and shouting and screaming, your entire body thumps alone to the beat from the DJ booth a couple meters away. 

Across the section, Charles sits stoic on a couch, taking up a seat and a half and frozen like some magnetic force. His eyes are stuck on you in a way that pulls goosebumps from your skin, makes you irrational angry at him. You’re feeling particularly bratty today, egged on by the tequila and his visible annoyance. 

You’re on your way to interject into his pity party when your sister catches your arm, pulls you by your bicep to dance with her. Her palms are sweaty and cold and you hope that it’s the condensation from her cold glass that’s got her all clammy. The two of you have always been quite a sight after a few drinks. You get your tolerance from your mother, are both disastrous lightweights, feel the need to give any and everyone around you a show. 

The two of you twirl to the music with little effort, laughing like you’re seven and the hazard littered floor under your feet is the old brown carpet from the family room you grew up hosting dance parties in. It’s all hair and giggles and hands in the air like you just don’t care. Everytime your glance catches his, he’s staring back, nursing his drink and half participating in a conversation with your brother-in-law and Jo. 

“What’s his fucking problem?” you ask, leaning over to shout into your sister’s ear.

“He can’t dance,” she slurs. You snort. He can dance.

You whistle, loud and commanding and cat-call-ish even though he’s already watching you. “Charles! Get out here and dance, you fucking buzzkill!”

Your sister joins in on the fun, playfully swaying her hips to the music, tossing out an imaginary fishing line to her husband and reeling him over, calling along teasingly to Charles. “Yeah, show us what you’ve got, Il Predestinato!”

Charles rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I don’t dance,” he calls back with a soft chuckle. He tries to play it cool, like always, but everyone in the room knows you’re pushing his buttons. You always are. The reason he keeps you around is the same reason you stay around; your families’ relationship predates any animosity between the two of you. That, and the friend group was founded before you loathed each other and it would be too much work to try and split it up now. You’d probably never see Joris again. 

You dance closer to him, putting on a dramatic show and a poor fight against the urge to continue challenging him. “Come on,” you tug on his arm, just out your bottom lip into a pretty little pout. “Live a little.”

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister. 

His moves are stiff and awkward, almost hard to watch. You laugh, because he’s wound up so fucking tight in two weeks you’d have a diamond. “See!?” your sister laughs, the contagion of it spreading to even the brunt of the joke. “I told you!” she continues, slinking her arm around her husband’s neck sloppily. His arm grips her side to hold her steady. It makes you feel sick. 

A smirk tugs on his lips, and for a brief moment, there’s a hint of something more in his eyes. Not annoyance or frustration. Something seven, something innocent and childish. It’s fleeting, and you take a deep breath because the music feels quieter now. You down what’s left of  your cocktail to clear your head, to calm the sudden flutter of nerves. 

The more he drinks and the longer he’s forced to dance, the lighter and more magnetic he becomes. “You know, Charles, I never thought I’d see the day,” you tease. He’s been in a near constant state of pity-party for weeks now, ever since his dumb ass got dumped by another girl wildly out of his league. 

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is as amused as it is drunk. “Don’t get too excited. It’s the liquor,” he retorts, a piss poor attempt at downplaying how much fun he’s having. He wouldn’t dare to give you the satisfaction. You lean in closer, brush your body against his, fueled by the noise and the alcohol. 

“The liquor doing the touching, too?” you ask. 

He’s always been a touchy drunk. Since before you and your friends were allowed to drink, he’s been hands-on. And maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s grabbing your hips, the first time his broad hand is flat over your stomach, but you’d never noticed him as this touchy with his girlfriends or his girls that appear when he’s around. Whatever it is, the more he drinks, the more comfortable he is with his hands on you, and the less you find the nerve to care. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he does it, though. Every touch burns your skin. It’s a sick little game you two play. Sick and twisted and so, so unlike the two of you. 

Watch yourself—he warns, hand on the small of your back. You play with fire. Well established and well documented, though; you never back down either. No, the thrill of annoying him is enough to dive head-first, to push his buttons until they stick. “Am I?” you ask, as innocently as the tequila can muster, taking hold of his wrist and moving it so his arm is wrapped around your midsection, fighting to settle in the space between your waistband and shirt hem. 

You respond to every one of his careful touches, ever lingering finger on your arm and your waist and your back. When you close your eyes, you imagine the nonsense patterns he draws on your skin like it’s on canvas in a museum, hung front and center just for you. Your inhibitions are slipping too, and you let yourself trail wandering fingertips over his body, too.

This isn’t the Charles you’re used to, the one you go head-to-head with every fifteen minutes. This is something entirely new, so far into uncharted territory you’re not even sure which way is north. There’s something particularly intriguing about the nerves bouncing around your gut. 

Everything fades away into the dark and crowded club. You don’t know if your sister and brother-in-law are still standing there, if any of your friends are. All you know if the electric charge of this, of every teasing remark and touch that draws you closer, forces you to test the waters of the newfound layer of tension. 

Everything is building, it feels like, to some grand crescendo of emotion and desire. Before there’s room to explore it, though, to dive deeper into the unspoken shift, the moment is interrupted by the return of the friends you didn’t notice leaving. 

The night drags on, the lines between annoyance and attraction blurring into some chaotic muddle of intoxication. Nothing is clear, nothing except the sobering and unignorable pull. It lingers in the air above you, in the space between like a secret just begging to be unraveled. 

You’ve got another drink now, because you can only think of one decision that would be worse than more tequila. In due time, you’re worried you’re a lost cause when it comes to that choice as well. His eyes stay on you, even from a distance, and you revel in the glory of his attention. Embolden by it all, you continue fucking with him. “Having fun yet, Charles?” you ask, knowing smile, voice dripping in subtle suggestion. 

He raises a brow, the corners of his lips quirking up. You don’t think you’ve ever spent much time looking at them, the soft shade of pink and the softer skin. “I suppose I can tolerate it,” he replies with teasing eyes. He’s irritated by your laugh, by your proximity, by your lips brushing against his ear when you whisper; you’re not the only one here trying to have fun. His jaw tightens but he doesn’t take your bait. Instead, he pulls you closer, sways in rhythm with you and replies, “I’m here to enjoy myself, not entertain you.”

He sends your brattiness running full-tilt. Forces you to carefully consider every movement, every ounce of playfulness that you allow to seep into your demeanor and the proactive sway of your hips. You grin at him every chance you get, sly and calculated, daring him to resist.  

You lean in close, brush against his ear and can blame it on practicality, on the bass and the music and the DJ if anyone were to question your actions. You rest a hand on his chest. “I know you love my attention.”

His breath hitches at your audacity, heart racing so quick you can feel it in your palm. He pulls you closer, dangerously close to your lips and says, “you talk too much. Maybe it’s time someone shuts you up.”

You scoff, low and teasing. “I’d like to see you try.”

[18 minutes later]

You step into the well-lit lobby less than a pace behind him. Your hands are interlocked, have been for every block of the darkened streets—since he grabbed yours and pulled you out of the club. “Admit it,” you giggle. “You love having me push your buttons.”

He remains stoic, jaw set as he pushes the button on the elevator. The tension is at a boiling point. You’re either about to kill each other, to be on the news for some grand double murder, or something so, so much worse is going to unfold. 

He leads you to the apartment without a word, but as soon as the door closes behind him, all is lost. Your head is bumping into the drywall before you even realize what’s happening, his lips harsh against yours, the pent up frustration and desire snapping like a dried twig. 

It’s fierce and passionate and while you never, not for a single moment in your life, imagined what he would taste like, you somehow knew it would be like this, cool and fresh and drunk. He licks into your mouth, messy and intense, teeth clacking and both of you fighting for some nonexistent upper hand. 

Fireworks are going off outside. They shake the windows with explosive gravitas as you’re blindly led by his backwards steps down the hallway. You realize that in an entire lifetime of knowing each other, this is the first time you’ve been in his place. It’s not what you expected, from what you can gather—all clutter and red cars and a boy who never had to drop his dream. “They’re going to look for us,” you say between sloppy, open mouthed kisses. 

He mumbles against your skin, strong hands on either side of your jaw. “Let them look.”

You walk through a doorway, into a bedroom clad with clutter and blue sheets. He would have blue sheets. There’s another firework, loud and booming, it makes you jump. You check your watch over his shoulder, pretend your hand doesn’t shake. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Okay.” Your knees bump into his and he sits on the edge of the bed.

You laugh, climb onto his lap, your arms strewn around his shoulders, broad and strong and you laugh again–this time into his mouth. What the fuck is going on. Seriously, what the fuck is this? “Happy New Year.”

He sighs, pulls his mouth from yours long enough to roll his eyes, to speak annoyedly into the hot air between your lips. “Yeah, whatever. Happy New Year.”

“Charles,” you mutter, hand on his chest. You think he’s going to regret this more than you will. People have always told you he’s the best kind of person. You’re not held in the same regard, and you know it. Some people are made to regret and others are made to be the regret. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs, but it’s curt and passive. Annoyed, as always, even when he palms at your ass, traces his hands along the bottom of your hiked up dress and pulls you down against him with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up.” You tug at the hem of his shirt, pull it off over his head in a swift movement. 

“You’re doing a piss-poor job at making me.”

He moves you like you’re a fucking doll, like it’s lightwork, tossing you down against the mattress and swapping your positions in a swift movement. The strength and agility of it makes your head spin. He’s not supposed to make your head spin, he’s supposed to make it ache. 

But no, no. You do ache for him. All of you aches for him, for his calloused hands and the roughness of his jeans against your thighs and the soft contrast of his lips against everything else. It’s embarrassing. You can’t believe he’s got you like this, hands pinned above your head while he buries his tongue in your mouth, grinds his hips against yours. The coarse denim is almost painful on your sensitive skin, but the growing bulge pulling the fabric tight is more intoxicating than any cocktail. 

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, bites a bruise against the skin just above your clavicle. “Spoiled little shit.”

He sinks to his knees, big blue or green or whatever fucking color his eyes are today watching you intently, boring into you with blown, hungry pupils.  His fingers trail along your underwear, pulling the thin, lacey fabric to the side, and then removes them all together. He gloats when he runs his thumb through your folds. “So fucking wet.”

“It’s not for you,” you goad. 

“Oh?” He nods slowly, spreading your slick with the steady digit, watching you carefully for reaction. “For who then?”

Your eyes flutter shut when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circles it slowly, teases you. He’s unfocused, his mind lapsing and giving you a much needed in, a clear shot to piss him off. “Your teammate.”

“Fuck off.” You first. 

“You’re right, Charles,” you speak slowly, careful to control your breathing, to hide every tell you might have. “Someone should shut me up. Do you know anyone?” Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curls them like someone had given him a diagram of your body. You gasp at the suddenness of it all. Yeah, he mutters, utterly delighted with himself. Yeah, I think I know someone.

You roll your eyes, push his head down, down, mouth onto your core. There, in the midst of licking a long stripe through your cunt, he fucking laughs, shakes his head with a subtlety you’d never perceive if it wasn’t for the tip of his nose bumping your clit when he does it. At least he can follow basic fucking instructions. 

His dick must hurt pretty damn bad, all hard and swollen in his pants, because he’s unbuttoning his jeans and freeing himself from the constraints of the fabric while lapping at you, the other hand still fucking into you with steady pace and hazy curl. You can’t see it, view obstructed by the mattress and limbs and hair, but you can tell by the way his shoulders move that he’s trying to get himself off at the same time he works on you. 

You’re not going to make his job that easy. You require all of his attention, pure and undivided and hopefully just as infuriated as you are. You reach down to the apex of your legs, pull his head up by his chin. “Just fuck me, already, you prick.”

He rises to his feet, shakes his head, “you’re a needy little thing,” he remarks. Needy? You haven’t fucking seen needy. 

He guides the head of his cock through your folds, spreading slick and spit and smacking himself against your cunt. 

Your lips purse into a sharp line. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” He taunts, “you’ve been teasing for hours.”

“It’s different,” you grumble. 

“How?” You could strangle him, him and all his questions. What’s a person have to do to get fucked properly around here? You already sacrified your morals by pulling tight against the navy blue sheets.  A woman can only make so many sacrifices. 

You groan, heavy and exasperated. He’s such a pest. “It just–oh, fuck you–” without warning, he plunges into you, buries himself in your cunt until he bottoms out, skin on skin and the sore sting of him stretching you. Your fingers bruise into his arms, nails scraping over his shoulder blades with a gasp. He gives you no time to adjust to him, rutting into you with deep, measured thrusts. What was that, he prodes. Somehow, you find the poise to stabilize yourself, to reply smugly. “it just is.”

His objective isn’t your pleasure, no. That would be his prerogative, a side privilege, a requirement in his quest to get you to close your mouth and stop pestering for once. Making you come is just another box to check. 

You don’t fuck someone if you’re not going to finish, though. Sleeping with Charles might be a lapse in judgment, but being someone’s play toy, letting him reap without sowing, that’s a complete disregard of your dignity

Your fingers find your clit, circle it in just the right sequence, combining with the curve of his cock to push you closer, closer, closer to the edge of the fucking world. Your entire body burns, everywhere, all over, all at once you sweat. Tell me–he insists, voice short and breathy. Tell me when you’re going to come. “I thought you were trying to shut me up?”

“Just, fuck, just tell me.” He palms over your breasts, still covered by your bra and the fabric of your dress, however thin. “So many fucking clothes,” he grumbled, stalling inside you, hands slipping under your back, between you at the mattress to pull you off the bed. You hastily pull the dress over your head, toss it somewhere onto the clothing cluttered floor. Better? You ask. “Better,” he nods, bites your bottom lip roughly, licking against your teeth. One of the hands that explore the skin of your back make quick work of the clasp on your bra, dropping the straps from your shoulders and your back is against the sheets again, his hands groping at you, pinching your nipple between his middle and ring finger, working over it until you’re humming profanities and huffing into his mouth. 

Hate and desire is such a fine, blurry line. Anyone who tells you differently is a liar. 

“M’gonna,” you choke on your words. “I’m–shit–I’m coming.”

“Yeah,” He picks up his pace, maintains a steady, toe-curling rhythm. “Come for me,” his voice heavy and growled. “Come on my dick.”

You do. You come for him, hard and long, wrapping a leg around his hip in a failed attempt to still him, to just be full of him and nothing more. He’s stronger, though, and fucks you through the whole thing, faster, harder, big hands braced on your hips for leverage. You explore the idea that a person really could be fucked in half, forced right open. 

“Good try,” you sputter, shaky and broken words leaving your lips before you’ve found a gravity that isn’t him. You lean up to kiss him, wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull him to meet you halfway. Your fingers tickle the short hair at the nape of his neck, raise goosebumps to his skin. “Maybe next time,” you hum into his open mouth. 

He spits a long string of saliva into your mouth when you move to close the gap. You laugh around it, down it in a single gulp and lick your lips, sticking out your tongue to showcase your empty mouth, big innocent doe-eyes watching his reaction, his eye roll and devilish smirk.

“Like I said–” you start, but he’s flipping you over, tossing you around like a ragdoll.  You giggle, high on the teasing and the taunting and then he’s fucking your face into the mattress. He’s got your hair gathered up into a ratty ponytail, uses it like a handle, forcing your back into an arch, your ass to perk up into the air. 

God, he’s so fucking deep, turning you into a mess of bruises and sweat stricken skin. Your hips bounce back against him, angle in any imaginable way in an attempt to feel him deeper, to feel him in your stomach and your chest and your head. To feel him everywhere that counts. 

“Putain, taking me so good, baby” he groans, lets the praise and the pet name slipping past his lips in a moment that goes unnoticed by neither of you. He smacks your ass with a firm hand, trying to mask his words after they’ve already been spoken. Your eyes roll back into your head and you come again, without warning. You decide before you get to think about it that it was the stinging imprint of his hand that pushed you tumbling over the edge. Whatever the real reason, you’re up two-nothing, or, depending how you look at it, he’s the one winning. 

That’s all any of this is, one big game. A power struggle. You’re always fighting to win, and this is not different. If there’s a way to lose at a game where everyone is supposed to win, one of you is going to fucking find it and force it on the other. 

You’re the one doing the flipping, now. The pushing and the shoving so he’s on his back. You straddle him and he gives you this look like he’s fully pussy-drunk, sick and euphoric and floating somewhere far from here. You’re so winning at this. “Jesus Christ,” you poke, “wipe your fucking drool.”

His entire face contorts when you sink down onto him. Everytime you think you’ve reached a limit, he finds a way to hit a spot impossibly deeper than the last. His hips lift up off the bed to meet you halfway, rutting into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had, hand moving to your cunt, thumbing lazily at your clit, leaving you fuzzy and drunk in a mess of mumbled moans above him. 

When you come for the third time, messy and sweaty, nothing that leaves your lips is distinguishable, a mess of French and English and curses and nonsensical mewls. “Fuck you,” he moans, breath shaky when he pulls himself out of you. Your body clenches around air, aches for him to return. 

He does, after he moves you back into the position it all started in. “So close,” he tells you, sinking slowly into you, his sigh hot and alcoholic on your shoulder. His pace is slow, then fast, then slow again. He’s as rapid as his breath is irregular. You better pull out–you groan, every muscle in your body strung out and exhausted and you’re coming again. It’s blinding white behind your closed lids, ears ringing and muscles flexing involuntarily. He’s wrecked you, finally, left you a mumbling mess. 

He pulls out almost in sync with your orgasm, jerks himself no more than twice between your legs before he’s coating your stomach in hot stripes of cum, loud, guttural moans leaving his lips in a way that looks and sounds practically pained. “Christ,” he heaves, watches on as your fingers dance through his orgasm, spreading it over your skin and coating your fingers. You don’t break eye contact when you stick two of them into your mouth, swirl your tongue around them tauntingly, sucking them clean and pulling them from your mouth with a pop. You hold the clean hand up for him to see, palm facing him. When you turn it, you pull down all but your middle finger, flip him off cockily. 

He swats you hand away, “Never fucking again,” he tells you. 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” you scoff. “I never want to see the inside of this apartment again.”

“Why are you here, then?” He remarks, turning the corner into what you assume is the bathroom, tossing a towel to you from across the room. You clean yourself up before anything dries, before coming up with a quick rebuttal. 

You don’t come up with one, mind as tired as the rest of you. This game has been exhausting. “We’re never talking about this,” you say, pulling your dress over your head, stuffing your bra into your handbag because you aren’t sure you have the strength to clasp it closed. “Ever.”

“No shit,” he says, tosses your underwear in the general direction of you. 

You bend over to pick them up, step into them with the snap of the elastic. “Promise me.” You have no idea where your shoes are, but he’s already ushering you out of the room, herding you down the long hall with wide, swooping waves of his arms. 

“I promise.”

“Pinky,” you say, spot your shoes haphazardly stepped out of in the entryway. You don’t have any memory of them ever being on.

“Absolutely not.”

“Charles,” you lean against the wall to slip your heels on, hook up at him with a sober glare. He closes his eyes like you won’t be able to see them roll behind his lids, pinches the bridge of his nose and squints before dropping a heavy breath, holding out a pinky to you. You interlock it with yours. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand from yours, turns the lock on his front door and swings it open, fingers wrapped around the edge, other hand gesturing out into the hallway. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“With pleasure,” you say, stepping past him and into the well-lit hallway of sprawling marble floors. You stop in front of the elevator, press the button and wait for his inevitable comment. 

“The whole brat-schtick you’ve got going on isn’t as believable when your leg shakes underneath you,” he calls down the hall. You don’t turn your head to face him, just extend your arm in his direction and flip him off. You hear his chuckle as he latches the door shut behind you. 

Everything about today has been dreary–from the near constant mist that falls over the city, to the chilly temperatures, to the poor excuses for men that grace the screen of your dating app. This is not how Fridays in your twenties are meant to be spent, sulking in the dark of your bedroom after a miserable day at work. 

You’re supposed to be out, partying with friends and making drunken decisions that have you waking up in a stranger’s bed after a good night you hardly remember. 

God, you need to get fucked. It’s been months. Two months and ten days–not that you’re counting. Because you’re not. Counting. You aren’t. 

You’re just restless, basking in the loneliness of the night, unable to shake the weight of your thoughts, of two months and ten days ago. Of Charles and how infuriatingly good he’d made you feel. The complexities of your relationship, the shift in the very DNA of what you know, it makes your heart race–a messy muddle of annoyance and desire that yearns to be untangled. 

You give up on the dating apps, know that even if you do match with someone, there’s nothing that can be done to solve your problem tonight. You opt instead to scroll through social media aimlessly, searching for any distraction from the ache in your gut. Your hand unconsciously slips under the hem of your shirt, cups your breast while you scroll and scroll and scroll. It does little to quell your struggles. In fact, the game is over the moment you become conscious of your hand’s placement, the moment you start to massage your breast, to run your fingers over your nipple until it’s hard and perky. 

You switch to the other breast, fingers gently tracing over the skin, sending chills up your arms, pinpointing the ache in your core. Your hand slides down your stomach, dips below the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear. You’re so worked up–pent up, reaching a boiling point. 

Your middle finger glides through your folds, grazes over your clit, teases the slick at your entrance before dipping in, collecting enough to spread it around. Your clit is swollen, needy like the rest of you, and the pad of your fingers do little to relieve the pressure. Your fingers move clockwise, then counter. Vertical and horizontal and every combination of every direction and even though you can’t remember the last time you were this horny, this desperate to come, you can’t. 

You slip in a finger, and then another, try to find the right curl and the right spot–to no avail. Now, you’re thinking about his fingers, about how much bigger his hands are, how his nimble fingers pumped in and out of you with sheet-gripping, whimper-inducing pace. 

Your phone taunts you, his contact behind the locked screen just waiting to be messaged. 

You try to resist. You hate him. He hates you. God, he knows how to fuck you, though; veiny hands and thick cock leaving you a writhing mess. Fuck. Fuck, why can’t your fingers move the way his did?

You cave, reaching over to grab your phone and text him. Hey. What are you up to tonight? It’s a mistake, you know that it is. He’s so damn annoying, there’s nothing about him that doesn’t drive you up a wall. Frustration makes the heart go fonder, you suppose, or maybe the cunt ache harder. 

Within moments, your phone is buzzing against your palm with his reply. Chilling at home. You coming over?

You roll your eyes. No.

Ok.

You bite your bottom lip so hard you think you might accidentally draw blood. It’s phantom, almost, the way you can so perfectly imagine the sting of him stretching you out, the soreness of his bruising kisses, the swollen, wet head of his dick slapping against your clit. Come over.

You couldn’t pay me.

Door’s unlocked.

Give me 20.

You’re in the bedroom when he knocks. Three times, you wonder why he isn’t just walking in. You ignore the banging, let the universe decide for you if he’s meant to turn back and walk his happy ass out of your building. The universe decides he won’t be doing that, though, because he knocks again. Louder this time. 

You pull yourself out of bed, feet creaking on the hardwood floors as you move to pull the door open. “I told you it was unlocked,” you grumble. 

“Eh,” he shrugs, dumb fucking grin on his face. “Wasn’t up for your games.”

You internally debate just how bad you need him here, if it’s worth all the trouble that is him. It’s not, almost certainly it isn’t. You invite him in anyway. 

“So, what’s the deal? Can’t get yourself off, so you call me?” He teases. Your frustrated blush gives you away before a witty comeback can slap the smirk off his face. “Oh my god,” he chuckles. “I was fucking around, but really?”

There’s no point in trying to lie now, not when your face has already betrayed your trust and revealed the truth. “Calm down,” you groused. “The last thing this world needs if your head to get any fucking bigger.”

He continues laughing like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. You want to smack the smile off his face, dimples and all. “The last thing this world needs is for this–” he gestures between the two of you, “–to become a thing.”

You mock his movements, the dumb look on his face. “This is not a thing. It’s just two friends–”

“–We aren’t friends.”

You sigh through gritted teeth. “Two not friends helping each other out.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, chews on the inside of his cheek while his eyes trace your finger, head to toe and back to head again. “You do know how ridiculous you sound, right?”

You breathe out in resignation, heading down the hall towards your room. “Can we just get on with it?”

“No.”

You stop in your tracks, turn on your heels. What the fuck is he here for, then? “No?” You close the gap between the two of you, plant your hands firmly on either side of his jaw and kiss him, all tongue and spit and rough lips. You knock him off balance, falling out of step when he kisses you back with a matching intensity, hands hovering over your hips. He doesn’t rest them there, you can feel the warmth in the space between your skin and his, the force that pulls you together. 

When he does settle his hands, it’s not to deepen the kiss, to swallow any more frustration. It’s to put distance between your mouths. “I want you to–”

You nibble on his earlobe, cut him off with your hushed words. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, I want–”

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he commands, voice failing to waiver to your hushed level, an air of snugness to him.

“Charles,” your voice cracks with his name, a hint of your under the surface insecurity peeking through, putting themselves on display for him. Here! Here! Look at me! 

“Show me, or I’m leaving,” he says, and it’s all throaty and husky. 

(Eleven minutes later)

Legs spread for him, two fingers moving busily against your core, circling your clit, teasing your hole. 

He stares at you like he can see your fucking soul, watches from his spot across the room, leant against the old wooden dresser, arms folded and ankles crossed. You stare back–harder, maybe–like if you win the little contest your cheeks won’t burn so bright, you won’t feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so embarrassed. 

Those feelings fade, they do, with each flick of your wrist. With every glance of his hungry eyes to your fingers, to your cunt, tracing their way up and down your body, you feel calmer and calmer. And when he runs his hand over his mouth, along the stubble of his jaw and off his chin, you’re closer and closer. 

It pulls whimpers, soft and slow and sweet, from your lips. There’s a sick thrill to it, to him seeing her like this, all needy and open and sensitive. It’s empowering, almost. 

He breaks no more than twice, watches every brow quirk, lid flutter, and lip twitch with raw, intimate eyes. He’s less interested in what you do to yourself, the curve of your fingers or the noises they create, than he is in the way you react to the movements. 

“You’re not even fucking watching,” you say, the letter sounds falling to your breath, hitching as your fingers angle just right. 

“Watching what matters.”

“Oh? And, uh–” you huff. “What’s that?”

He laughs, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. You’ve always thought they made his smile so childish, like you can’t take anything seriously when it comes from someone with primary-school dimples and giddy eyes. You don’t struggle to take it seriously, now. “You’re thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh parting your lips. “Says who?”

He pushes himself off the dresser, saunters over with heavy feet, stopping at the foot of the bed. “What are you thinking about?” He humors. 

Your eyes roll. You’re thinking about a lot of things. Half a dozen, atleast. About your fingers, the way they move against your swollen cunt, sticky with creamy slick, and how his fingers are that much longer than yours. About how loud he walks, how his heavy feet stand at the end of your bed, crossed arms that pull his t-shirt tight across his chest. About the fact that you’re not sure you locked the door behind him because you were so distracted by the way his sweatpants hung from his waist. About how he doesn’t bother to adjust or hide the protruding bulge under the fabric right now. About the curve of his cock, about how pathetic and full it makes you, utterly unable to spend time thinking about anything but how well he stretches you out. About his hair, flat and straight and wholly unstyled, how your hands would mess it up so nicely, tug and twist until he has something smart to say. Beyond frustratingly, he’s right. As you quickly approach a high, breath quickened and movements desperate, all you’re thinking about is him. “Things.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, ever the rake, unsatisfied with your response. 

You add a third finger, steady pace and a held stare. The muscles in your leg twitch. You’re so fucking close. “What are you thinking about?”

He sways, rocks his weight from his left foot to the right, runs his tongue over his teeth. “Things.”

A coy smile upturns the corner of your lips. “Mmhmm,” you mock. 

He moves around the bed, trails his fingers over your skin; from your ankle, along the bone of your shin, a bruise on your knee. They stall on your thigh, trace small, soft circles on the inside of your leg. “You really want to know?” 

He’s such a tease, keeps moving up, up, up, over your stomach and through the valley of your breast. “I–ah– I,” you stutter through your words, fingers working tirelessly to push you over the edge. Restless, further irritated by his delicate touch, his fingers up to your jaw now, slotting themselves there, you nod. “Yes.” 

He leans over you, your lips inches apart, open and hot breathed. “Too bad,” he whispers into the space between, closing the gap and kissing you with an insatiable kind of fervor. Your fingers still, your other hand reaching to grip the back of his neck, to pull him deeper into the kiss. It’s a kiss that’s half as good as the sex, the breaking of the unbearable tension that’s filled the room while he’s watched, the promise of what’s to come. A lustful implication. His hand leaves your jaw when you pull apart for air, moving over your stilled hand. “Let me?” He asks, and it doesn’t feel like much of a question, the way he’s already slipping his fingers under yours before you can even squeak out an answer. 

There’s something entirely different about his fingers, like the way that you can’t tickle yourself. You can’t predict his moves, every movement of every ridge of his fingerprints is something entirely surprising. “Yeah, fuck, you make, ah, make yourself…” You give up on the sentence, your body failing your mind in its ability to spit out a comeback. Yeah, you wish you could tell him. Yeah, make yourself fucking useful.  

He laughs, slides his long middle finger inside you, pumps it twice and slips in another. You gasp at his sudden movement. “You’re embarrassing yourself, baby.”

Your back arches off the sheets. “Don’t call me that,” you seethe. 

“But,” he curls his fingers against the spot you’ve been trying to reach all night. A moan tumbles from your mouth and he smirks. “It makes my job so easy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I was going to let you come first, but,” he chuckles. He’s so proud of himself it makes you ill. “If you insist.” 

His hand stills, threatens to pull out of you entirely, but you’re covering it with your own, holding him there when you look up, hips instinctively grinding against him. “I’ll kill you. I will.” 

You’re pushing him out of your apartment by the end of night, locking the door behind him. Your leg shakes when you slide down the door onto the floor. This is the last time, it has to be. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. Thrice. Thrice would be a pattern. You won’t let it become a pattern. 

You wake up at seven-thirty and your hair is still in knots, your body still aching from him. You find a new bruise every time you look in the mirror. You can’t shake the image of his messy hair, of the feeling of the brown locks between your fingers and the sound he’d make when you’d tug on them. 

It won’t be happening again.

[taste-your-silhouette]

Pairings: Damiano David x fem!reader Contents: Fluff Summary: You’re at a party and you’re squabbling over a sofa with Damiano when he unintentionally reveals something while unaware that you’re eavesdropping  Words: ~1129 A/N: A touch of enemies to lovers for you all, because I love it!I should warm you that it contains some explicit language.Please, forgive me again if you come across any errors while reading. I hope you enjoy it 💙

I just wanna hold you close tonight

You're at your bestie's party, at her crib. Parties aren't really your thing, but there's no way to dodge one when your friend is the mastermind behind it.

The house is jam-packed, the music is blasting, and Vic, one of your pals, is rocking the DJ booth. Vic and Thomas, your childhood buddies, are also here, along with Ethan. You became friends with Ethan after he joined the band. As for Damiano... well, let's just say you and him are like acquaintances. You wouldn't exactly call him a friend because you both don't exactly hit it off. He tends to make you feel uneasy, so you try to avoid being in the same place as him whenever possible. Whenever his gaze meets yours, it's like all your defenses crumble, and you can't stand that feeling.

You've had a few sips, but not enough to get wasted, just enough to feel a little extra lively and adventurous. Everyone is having a blast, but all you crave is the comfort of your bed. As you navigate through the crowd, trying to escape small talk, you stumble upon a vacant couch in the living room. It's like a dream come true — all you want is to plop down and catch some Z's!

As you were about to reach the sofa, Damiano flings himself onto it, stretching his legs out and occupying the entire space.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you exclaim, giving him a stern look.

He gazes back at you, confused.

"What did I do?"

"I was going to sit there, you goofball."

"Oh, my bad, Y/N. Didn't realize you had plans."

You grumble angrily and retort:

"Move or I'll plop down and squish your head!"

"You know, that wouldn't be a half-bad idea. You sitting on my head, right over my mouth, to be precise," he smirks.

"You're repulsive. Get off the couch, Damiano."

"I've already told you no. Looks like you'll have to sit here by force."

You roll your eyes and throw yourself on top of him, engaging in a playful struggle to push each other off the couch. Suddenly, both of you freeze as you end up on his lap.

Damiano continues to stare at you, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, well."

You roll your eyes and simply say:

"Shut up, and you know what? You can stay right there, no need to move. You're surprisingly comfortable."

You push him, pressing his back against the couch, and then rest your head on his chest.

"Keep quiet, I'm tired," you practically command, closing your eyes.

Incredibly, he simply obeys your request.

//

You don't know exactly how long you've dozed off, but the party is still in full swing, and you're still sprawled on top of Damiano. Amidst all the noise, you can't hear his heart pounding, but you can feel the rhythmic beats.

"Is it the end of the world? You two getting along without exchanging insults," you hear Ethan remark.

"You say that because you didn't witness the battle it took to reach this point," Damiano retorts.

"Damiano, leave her be. Let's enjoy the party," a female voice you don't recognize calls out to Damiano.

You don't pay attention to what Damiano says, or perhaps he simply ignores the girl. With one hand resting on your head, you can faintly feel a gentle stroke through your hair.

He doesn't want to disturb your peaceful slumber. Seeing you so calm and serene lying on his lap is a sight he's never witnessed before. It's a far cry from the usual furrowed and stressed Y/N when you're together.

"Are you planning on staying there until the party is over?" the girl asks once more.

Damiano takes a deep breath and responds:

"Whether or not I stay here all night is none of your business."

Ethan lets out a faint chuckle and waits a few minutes before speaking up:

"Hey, Damiano. Deep down, you have feelings for her, don't you?"

You sense Damiano's heartbeat quicken. Could he be nervous about the question?

Damiano hesitates for a moment before finally admitting: 

"Yeah, I like her, all right? It's just that... she's complicated."

Ethan bursts into laughter.

"I knew it! It's as clear as day if you ask me. And I do not doubt that she likes you too."

Damiano's face lights up with a smile at the thought of his feelings being reciprocated by you. He has liked you since the day you first met, but he never quite knew how to express it. The playful banter and dynamic between you two became his way of catching your attention.

"I really hope so..." he murmurs as he rests his cheek against your head, inhaling the sweet fragrance of your hair. "Please, let her like me," Damiano whispers, almost inaudibly.

You let out a sleepy sigh, lazily opening and closing your eyes, but stay still, relishing the sensation of Damiano's heartbeat.

He likes you, and you heard him confess it. If you hadn't heard it directly from him, if Ethan or anyone else had told you, you would never have believed it.

One of your hands rests on Damiano's shoulder, and you glide it gently across his skin until you reach his neck, where you begin a tender caress.

With his other hand, free to move, Damiano strokes your arm and whispers in your ear,

"How long have you been awake?"

"I'm taking off," Ethan announces.

With your eyes still shut, you respond:

"It's not a big deal, but I heard you confess that you like me and want me to feel the same way."

"Look at me," Damiano requests.

You disregard his plea, not wanting to lose the sensation of his racing heartbeat.

"No, I want to keep feeling your heartbeat."

Damiano chuckles and gently holds your chin, directing your gaze toward him.

"You'll be able to feel it pounding over and over," he says.

You raise an eyebrow and inquire:

"Really?"

"Yes, ever since the day you entered my life, it's been racing at the mere thought of you. It's been yours all along, and you can hear or feel its rhythm whenever you want."

You smile widely and guide one of Damiano's hands to your chest, allowing him to feel your heartbeat as well.

It's just as fast as his.

"My heart dances the same tune. I suppose that's why I'm always on guard whenever I'm around you because my heart belongs to you too."

"Y/N..." Damiano begins, but you cut him off.

"Shh, if I recall correctly, I told you to hush, but it seems that proved challenging for you..."

Before you can finish your sentence, Damiano pulls you into a kiss.

It's a kiss filled with unbridled passion. A kiss that should have taken place ages ago.

[paperhatcollection]

An Assortment of NSR Screenshots

First up, a look at what happened when we accidentally clipped out of the DJ's boss arena! Still not... entirely sure how we managed that one, but it is fairly comedic to see how big and just plain empty the Plantarium is without that crowd filling in the space.

But you gotta be careful you don't tred too far, or else-

We actually feel for a bit before trying to switch characters and the game teleporting us back topside. No players supposed to be running around up there, no collision.

Sometime later, we realized if you rush fast enough you can actually get around DJ faster than his model can track his movements, allowing a peak into what's actually happening with that couch thing he was laying on prior to his turntable spinning around in front of him.

Yeah, it turns out he's so short he needs to use that cushion as a stepping stool to even reach his own set-up to begin with! His feet clip into the pillow a bit- after all, the Players not really supposed to see this view, and if you get back here fast enough this happens.

tfw offseen parts of a characters model break during certain animations:

Still, it's just funny to imagine the DJ needing to take a step up when his equipment spins around otherwise he ends up smacking himself in the shin. All this just to be able to lay down between performances.

And on the opposite scale of things-

We found out you can get up here! And just spend ages goofing around scaling this thing.

But.

It turns out, if you do this, whichever character that was left to autofollow... gets a little stuck.

Yeah.

He couldn't get out without moving far enough away to teleport.

He can even get stuck in the hand!

anyways back to the boss fight.

You can actually escape before the DJ teleports you inside this box of his and be completely safe from the planetary system he will then proceed to hurl at your defenseless partner! (who takes no damage. No NPCs were harmed in the making of these screenshots)

we're a bit speculative rn as too how to pull it off- it feels like there's two methods we managed to do it with-

switching characters right as the game goes to teleport you, and said partner being far enough away at the time

a dash right as the game goes to tp you, skipping right past as the box forms without you inside of it

However, it doesn't feel... consistent for either method? Half the time it works, half the time it doesn't, so it feels like we're missing something with the whole process.

Notable, he's also programmed to follow the player, so he'll just watch as you scurry around outside his range. It's too much work to get you back inside, apparently.

You can also get behind him in this phase too, when he gets locks into place by certain animations!

[tarohonii]

꒰Eleceed Characters At A House Party‧₊˚✧

↷Base: Fruit Tea ↷Flavor: Sucheon, Jisuk, Jiwoo, Curtin, Kayden, Wooin, Vator, Dark, Gangseok, Duke, Asher ↷Allergies (Warnings): drug usage, alcohol, overdrinking/blacking out

┊Jisuk: 

Hosting the party. The one who initiates all the drinking games and gets the overall vibe going. Screams along to chief keef songs and nothing else. Probably has fought somebody by the end of the night and trashes the house more than anybody else even though...he's hosting it.

Takes care of a few select people throughout the night with the upmost care even though he's off his rocker. Fetches them water, doordashes them food, gets them home safe or offers to let them sleepover. But everyone else can go fuck themselves, to be honest. Not his problem if they live or die.

┊Subin

Probably the center of the party, whether it be games or dancing. Her specialty is drinking competitions with Jisuk, which is essentially the highlight of the night. Emotionally connecting with every person in the party by ugly sobbing with them about their destructive families and then also instantly dancing with them seconds after.

┊Gangseok:

 hotboxing one of the bedrooms. a very calm smoker, so probably started a "talk about our feelings circle" honestly very quiet and peaceful down there.

┊Wooin

in the smoking circle and the only one who brings snacks to the party (and edibles lol). Gets the munchies and makes the most vilest snack combinations and claims they test amazing. Starts crying once they start playing frank ocean at the end of the party.

┊Sucheon

Was hiding in the basement but Gangseok turned it into a hotbox so he just decided to smoke with them and ended up getting absolutely greened tf out. Laying on his back in the basement and can't move or speak the entire night.

If he's drinking, he's passed out in the bathroom because he was coerced into playing a drinking game and lost

┊Jiwoo:

Nervously follows Jisuk and Subin around and tries to make sure they're staying hydrated. Tries to take care of Sucheon and Wooin too but he can barely breathe down in the basement. Eventually ends up getting drunk by accident because someone (Asher) spiked the minute maid

┊Gahin:

One of those destructive high maintenance lightweights. Keeps tripping over his own feet and has to have someone personally escort him to the bathroom to hold his hair while he throws up. Either ends up fighting someone or sobbing his eyes out on the couch.

┊Asher:

Brought half of the alchohol and extremely questionable substances. High out of his fucking mind and ALSO drank (WHICH IS A TERRIBLE IDEA) Makes the most vilest, black-out inducing concoctions known to man and then pays people to drink it.

One of those loud, annoying people when they get high. Wandered off halfway through and ends up in a bush somewhere and doesn't wake up until like two days later.

┊Duke:

Drinking bottles of smirnoffs like it's water and somehow not blacked out at all. Sitting in a chair in the living room with a thousand yard stare and completely unresponsive the entire night. Everybody's too scared to ask him if he's okay.

┊Ian:

Flirts with everybody shamelessly, manages to coerce the police to leave (while drunk) mostly mingles, but gets absolutely thrashed once the party hits it's peak.

┊Lia:

Completely out of her element. Standing in the corner and nursing what she's pretty sure is a cup of water. Plays with the pet or observes the paintings on the walls because literally has nothing better to do. Somewhere in the night does end up getting drunk by the help of Subin or Jisuk or something and does loosen up a little

┊Boyoung:

One of those really peppy, outgoing drunks so she's living it up. Giggling and gossiping with literally anyone and dancing with Subin. Also sleeps over but helps clean the next day!

┊Jaehyuk:

Brought the speakers so ends up being the DJ. Doesn't take requests, which would usually be annoying, but it's fine since he actually knows how to put music to a vibe

[loving-barnes]

Vendetta 2 - Bitter-sweet afterparty (1)

Pairing: Mob Boss! Bucky Barnes x Mob ! Boss Y/N Fox (Bucky Barnes x female reader)

Warning: Smut, angst (minors dni, only 18+)

Author’s note: Welcome to season two. I hope you will like it. Please, leave a comment. I want to know what you think.

Viewer discretion is advised.

Word count: 3100+

Vendetta 2 Masterlist | Main Masterlist 

Bitter-sweet afterparty (1)

Let’s make some noise for the birthday girl!

The crowd started to scream and whistle as they waved at Y/N from the dance floor. The DJ was playing all of her favourite songs, as requested. There was champagne and confetti as well as all the people she loved and cared about. All she wanted was for them to have a good time.

She was sitting in a sparkling slutty silver dress in the VIP section with the perfect view of the entire club. Yelena was smoking a second joint of the night with Sam. Y/N noticed the two of them got closer over time, but she didn’t question that or teased her about it. Maybe they were just fucking and that was it.

Warm lips pressed against her neck and she purred like a cat. “I love that sound,” Bucky said to her ear as he pressed another kiss right under her earlobe. “I want you to purr for me, pretty girl.”

She giggled and turned her head to him, smiling. “Only you can make me purr like this,” she winked at him and pressed her crimson-red lips onto his in a deep kiss.

“Let’s dance,” Yelena shouted suddenly and jumped on her feet. “I love this song, come on, Y/N,” she reached for her hand and pulled her up, making Bucky growl. “Oh, hush, she’ll be yours in a few minutes. Relax, Wolfie.”

Y/N laughed at that. Before Yelena could take her to the dance floor, she leaned forward to Bucky. She put a bright smile on her face and suddenly pulled down the front of the dress and flashed him. Her breasts were right in front of his face. “Fuck,” he bit his lower lip. He wanted to put them into his mouth.

“These are all yours later tonight, but now, I want to be with my girl,” and she fixed the fabric, covering herself up. The way he was looking at her made her laugh. She even had to close his mouth because something would fly right into it.

As both women walked away from the VIP zone, Steve returned with another bottle of champagne and poured all the glasses full. “What did I miss?” he asked when he saw Bucky’s fucked face.

“I have the best wife,” Bucky commented and took the glass, drinking the liquid in one go. “I have the best wife with the perfect set of boobs.”

Steve raised a brow, confused. “Okay,” he said and sat down next to his best friend. “I don’t get it but fine.”

“She just flashed me,” Bucky laughed and wiped the corner of his mouth. He could feel a drop of saliva there. “Damn, I am one lucky son of a bitch.”

His eyes were locked on Y/N’s dancing body. Both Yelena and she were enjoying the music, singing and dancing their troubles away – no wonder. The last few months were difficult for everyone. Three warehouses, which belonged to Foxes, exploded and no one knew who was behind them.

Bucky took out a cigarette and lit it up. He relaxed on the couch and kept his eyes on his woman – the perfect woman on the entire planet. He had to admit, the way she was dancing with Yelena, made his pants too tight. They were touching and rubbing against one another making his dick twitch. He wasn’t jealous. It was hot.

His eyes lingered on her body as he kept checking out every move she made. Her hips were swaying, her breasts were bouncing and she kept touching her body. The colours reflected on her dress. She was like a dream – a wet one.

That was until he noticed two men approaching them. Under any other circumstances, Y/N would already punch them or put a knife under their necks. To his surprise, she hugged the blond, muscular one with a wide smile and then the man next to him. He had longish black hair and wore a dark green suit.

Suddenly, the group was coming to the VIP section. Steve looked at his boss, trying to find some answers. As he found out, Bucky knew nothing about them.

“Hey,” Y/N waved at Bucky and his men. “Look who came to visit New York on my birthday,” she pointed at the two men. “These are the Odinsons from the Asgardian clan. They rule the whole west coast.”

Bucky stood up with a stern face and shook hands with both of them. “Of course, Thor and Loki,” he said their names with a deeper voice. I’ve heard about you. Impressive work, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Thor smiled and took a seat at the end of the couch. “I can say the same about you. Your father was a legend but you will beat him soon.”

Y/N took a seat next to Bucky and crossed her legs. Immediately, Bucky’s hand was on top of her thigh, holding it firmly. He had to send them a message that she was his. Yelena took a seat by her best friend and Sam, pouring everyone drinks.

“Cheers to the birthday girl,” Sam shouted as he raised the glass and everyone followed.

“Y/N,” Loki said her name and pointed at the glass she was holding. “Come on, that is not how we drink together,” and he pulled out a lighter, lighting up his shot.

She laughed and let him light her drink. “You are right. Cheers, Loki,” they clank their glasses and drank the fire-y liquid in one go.” Sam whistled, Yelena clapped her hands and Bucky was not impressed at all.

In the past, she mentioned something about them. She knew them and had a fine relationship with them. But the way Loki was staring at her, made Bucky want to throw a punch into his pale face. He knew hungry eyes when he saw one.

“Why are you here?” Y/N asked them.

“Business and vacation,” Thor answered.

“What kind of business?” Bucky had to ask.

“We have a guy here who own us a lot of money,” Loki explained. “And because he doesn’t want to pay, we are here for his wife – you know, to give him a push to do something about it before she loses all of her beautiful fingers.”

Yelena’s body violently shivered. “I always said you two are twisted – especially you, Loki.”

“Guilty,” he laughed at it. “And while we take our time with this person, we will enjoy New York.”

“And because it is your birthday,” Thor pointed at Y/N, “we wanted to see you.”

The conversation was interrupted by a waiter holding a big chocolate cake with many candles and singing Happy Birthday to Y/N. The whole club chanted together, and even the music stopped. The cake was put on the table, right in the middle of it. Happy Birthday Y/N was written with white chocolate and it was surrounded by candles. It was adorable.

The whistling and shouting started again once the singing was over and she blow off the candles. People kept clapping their hands for her. Yelena pulled Y/N into a tight hug and give her kisses all over her face. Then, it was Bucky’s turn to kiss her – and he did, passionately for everyone to see. He pulled her onto his lap and smacked his lips against hers. His tongue kept battling with hers, tasting every corner of her mouth.

“I love you,” he said when their lips disconnected. “Happy birthday my beautiful girl.”

. . .

She was clutching the sheets tightly in her hands. Her mouth was wide open as moans of pleasure kept escaping her throat. Bucky was between her legs, licking and nibbling on her pussy. He had his arms wrapped around her thighs just to keep her down and enjoy the feast.

“James, fuck,” she called his name. “I’m going to cum. Please, please, keep going.”

He listened to her plea, working even harder to bring her to her peak. He found a perfect spot on her clit that made her go feral. He focused on that particular spot, sucking until he could hear her cry. Y/N’s body was shaking from the orgasm. One of her hands found his hair and tugged on it.

“Fuck, yes,” she kept breathing loudly. “Holy shit, that was so good.”

“You taste so good, baby,” he kissed her navel and pulled himself up so he could reach her lips. When he started to kiss her, something awakened inside her and she kept grinding against his hard length that was pressed between her legs. “Does my princess need more?” he asked and moved to her neck where he left a fresh hickey. “I believe I wore you out pretty good after we came home from the party.”

“I think I need more,” she whined. “I want your cock again, Bucky.”

“Such a dirty, horny little girl,” he smiled at her.

As he was about to bury himself deep inside her wet pussy, the knocking on the bedroom door interrupted them. “Boss?” it was Barton. “We have a situation.”

“Shit,” he cursed. “I am in a middle of a situation so fuck off.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important,” Clint sighed. “Y/N, the meth lab you had on the east border, was destroyed this morning.”

“What?!” she almost jumped out of the bed, ready to get out of the room naked. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I wish I was,” said Clint. “Nick Fury is also looking for you. He’s fed up with the mess that’s been happening. He needs to talk to you.”

The news sucked. They both had to get up and start working whether they liked it or not. “Such a cockblocker,” said Bucky, annoyed by the whole situation. “I was about to fuck you real good, baby. I wanted to fill you up and watch as it leaks from your hole.”

“I know,” she stroked his cheek lovingly. “Unfortunately, I have another emergency and I honestly don’t know what I’m about to do. That meth lab was such a good business. The money was beautiful.”

She went into the walk-in wardrobe and took out clothes for both of them – something casual and comfortable. While she was dressing up, Bucky kept eyeing her, enjoying the view. “I love when I undress you, but this is also sexy,” he chuckled.

“Enjoy the view while you can,” she said with a smirk on her face.

As if the morning couldn’t get any more hectic, Y/N’s phone started to ring. When she looked at the name, she smacked her forehead with her hand. “Oh, no,” she sighed and picked up the phone. “Darcy, I am so sorry, I totally forgot,” she apologized.

Darcy was an architect and an interior designer. She was working on the reconstruction of Y/N’s home for some months. The last person that worked on the project sucked and Y/N managed to find someone with good taste.

Darcy: That’s all right, Miss Fox. I want you to come down to the house for the check-up before we move further with the reconstruction.

“Can you please hold on the line? I’ll be right back,” and she muted the call. Y/N’s eyes found Bucky’s. “I already hate this day. What more can happen today? I totally forgot.”

“Hey,” he approached her and stroked her shoulders reassuringly. “If you want, I can drive to the house and meet with Darcy,” he offered. “I think, you need to see Fury as soon as possible and deal with that. He can be a son of a bitch if people are not following his requests.”

She smiled at him. “You would do that for me?” she tilted her head, looking at him like a puppy. “You’d go to the house and deal with Darcy?”

“Of course, anything for you, doll,” he nodded and kissed her forehead. “Once I’m done at the house, I’ll call you and we can meet later… finish what we started,” he winked at her.

With a quick peck on his lips, she went back to the phone call. “Darcy, we’ll be there in an hour, if that’s all right.”

Darcy: All right, I will see you in an hour.

Once they finished dressing up and cleaned their teeth in the bathroom, they ran into the kitchen where they were met with sleeping Yelena. She was thrown on the counter with a cup of coffee in her hand, snoring.

“Lenka,” Bucky patted her shoulder. “Wake up, Lenka.”

She almost fell off the barstool when she discovered Barnes standing above her. “Holy shit, what time is it?” she rubbed her eyes and face.

“It’s almost lunchtime and we have a big problem,” Y/N grabbed Yelena’s coffee and drank half of it. It was already cold.

“The only problem I have is that you have taken my coffee,” the blonde frowned at her boss and yanked the cup from her hands. “What a night,” she mumbled under her nose.

“Woman, wake up,” Y/N nudged her shoulder. “The meth lab is gone and I need to talk to Fury.”

“What?” she gasped. “What do you mean it is gone? What happened?”

“Explosion,” said Y/N. “And Fury is fed up. I need you to go with Wade to the lab and check it out – secure the perimeter and try to find anything that would help us solve this mystery,” she reached into the cabinet and took out a clean glass. She poured cold water into it and drank it in one go. Bucky then took the glass and did the same.

“Can I take Scott? I can’t drive. I’m too fucked out,” she sighed and massaged her nape.

“I wanted to take him, but, sure, he’s all yours.”

“Take Clint,” Bucky patted Y/N’s shoulder. “I can drive since I didn’t drink as much as you did. You were the birthday girl after all,” he kissed her cheek. “Once I’m at your house, I’ll call you if anything.”

When they said their goodbyes, Clint drove Y/N to see Fury, Yelena and Scott went to the destroyed meth lab and Bucky drove to Y/N’s house which was under reconstruction.

The ride to Y/N’s house took some time due to heavy traffic. Bucky kept checking his watch, annoyed that drivers kept honking at each other as someone in the very front kept them waiting. He was listening to the radio, humming the tunes of the song that was on.

Here and there, his phone would light up and before he could notice the notification, his eyes locked on the picture where his beloved girlfriend, well, wife, was. A smile appeared on his lips. Somehow, he still couldn’t believe that things were working out between them. He was madly in love and his men could tell.

There was a simple text from Y/N: Lunch with everyone back in the apartment? How about Chinese take-out? <3

She knew him well. They both loved Chinese food and truth be told, he was craving some. The convoy of cars started to move. Quickly, he sent her a red heart and locked the phone. His ride could continue again.

As he was approaching her house, he felt some sort of heaviness inside his body. He didn’t know why, all of a sudden, this unpleasant feeling came and it got worse once he stepped out of the car. Bucky frowned and turned around. He couldn’t see anyone there – no cars, trucks, or people in general, working there.

He checked his watch. It was two in the afternoon. Was it possible they all were taking a lunch break?

His intuition made him take out the gun and slowly walked to the front door. They were unlocked. Swiftly, he opened the door and pointed the gun inside. Then, when he checked the perimeter and found out no one was present, he lowered the gun a little. And yet, that feeling never went away.

“Miss Lewis?” he called the woman’s name. “Darcy? Are you here?” There was no answer. It seemed that the house was empty.

Again, the feeling never went away.

Bucky took out his phone with his free hand and called Steve. Slowly, step by step, he walked through the hallway. Everything was a mess. The stairs were half done; the entrance to the dining room didn’t exist anymore. The place was covered in dust and smelled like concrete and alcohol.

Steve: What’s up?

“I don’t know,” he replied, still walking around the place carefully. “Something’s not right.”

Steve: Should we come over?

Bucky approached the kitchen. All the counters and equipment were gone and the walls were stripped of their painting. “Yeah. Take Sam and come here as soon as possible. No one is here. Lunch break was over an hour ago.”

Steve: We are on our way. We should be there in twenty-five minutes. Shall I call a backup? I believe some of the boys are closer to you. Maybe even Scott.

That’s when he heard it. The tiny sound that was coming from the walls. His heart started to beat fast and the adrenaline that was already running through his body heightened. “Uh,” he couldn’t muster a word.

Steve: Buck?

He came closer to the nearest wall that divided the kitchen and a newly made pantry. This time, the sound was louder and it was a ticking sound. Once he realized what was happening, the sound accelerated. “Shit!” and he was already on the run. “There’s a bomb! It’s about to-“

It went off. The whole place exploded, throwing him somewhere into the wall and then on the ground. He was too close to the explosion. One by one, the rooms were damaged and under fire. The entire place was covered in smoke and ashes.

In one second everything changed.

When Bucky’s eyes opened slightly, he noticed a tall person in a mask walking away from him. He didn’t know who it was. He wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman. But they were holding something that he couldn’t recognize. What grabbed his attention was a weird sensation coming from the left side of his body. But he didn’t have the energy to turn and look. His body was in shock that he didn’t feel any pain.

Bucky closed his eyes and let it all consume him. Somewhere in the back, he could hear screams coming his way. People would say, that life would flash before their eyes before they die. In his case, the last thing he saw was Y/N’s smiling face.

Chapter two

Tags: @lethallyprotected​ , @memeorydotcom​, @valkyrie418​ , @mannien​ , @brownlee-22, @michaelfuckinglangdon

[xaviernottheprofessor]

Concrete Jungle (where dreams are made of) | Flavier

Featuring: Xavier and Fletcher ( @fletchervanhall) with mentions of others Location: NYC, Empire State Building, Millenium Hilton Hotel Time Frame: Afternoon, April 25, 2024 Notes: Fletcher surprises Xavier in NYC and tells him something really important!

FLETCHER

Fletcher shouldered a duffle bag while walking into the hotel DJ told him Xavier was staying at. There was a small prickle of anxiousness sitting in his chest--partly because he had never done something this grand for someone he was in a relationship with, partly because he was literally across the country from his daughter and uncle, and partly because it was the first time since he was a teen that he was back in New York. Fletcher had yet to tell Xavier that he was from The Big Apple or that his parents lived here. As much as he'd let Xavier in, there were still a few things he hadn't shared about himself. Most were just talents of his but these intertwined facts of his hometown and parents were the biggest ones. While Fletcher knew that would change sooner or later, for now, he was focusing on surprising Xavier. He'd been doing his best not to give the prickling much attention if he could help it because he wanted this. He wanted to come and surprise Xavier, and he knew that his boyfriend deserved thoughtful gestures like this.

While he knew the front desk clerk wouldn't give him a key card--least of all to the room of someone of significance like Xavier--DJ told him the room number. So after giving a call home in the lobby to Drew and Emiliana to check in, Fletcher proceeded to the room. Taking the elevator up and walking to the door, Fletcher knocked, placed an index finger over the peephole and said, "Room service, Mr. Mitchell," in a voice entirely different from his own.

XAVIER

Xavier was half-way through a big writing week for the season finale of SNL. He wouldn't have an entire summer to do nothing but he'd have more time at home which made him happy. Even with that known, this week *felt* difficult. Being away from his kids, his boyfriend and his friends was a lot at times and while this would be his last week for a while, Xavier still hated it.  He was glad that he was honest with his director about his plans to be home more but it still did create such a void when he had to get on that plane. He had spread out some sketches he had written along with index cards containing cast members names. He wanted to distribute material fairly but also wanted to keep in mind who was more popular. Marcello was deserving of more sketches because of that. He stacked up the remaining cards and left them to the side before moving his papers to join them. His eyes had been burning from staring too long at his pages that Xavier needed a break. Winter had sent him a playlist to his Spotify and he pressed play as he plopped down on the couch. He had a nice Facetime conversation with kids a few minutes prior to start his writing. Xavier hadn't heard much from Fletcher but he assumed his boyfriend was probably working. Wondering if he should order something to eat, Xavier began to aimlessly scroll through Reels when he heard the knock on the door.

Hearing the odd voice on the other side of the door, Xavier wondered if this was some hoax. His co-workers tended to do things like that. "Room service?" He muttered and stood up, making his way toward the door. "I didn't order any..." He tried looking through the peephole and when he couldn't see who it was on the other side, he unlocked his door and opened it.  Nothing could have prepared him for seeing Fletcher standing there and happiness quickly replaced his perplexed expression. He smiled brightly as he opened the door wider for him. "Baby...I--what are you doing here?"

And before he could get an answer, Xavier practically tackled Fletcher, pulling him in for a warm embrace as he showered his boyfriend with kisses. "Wait, are you ok? Everything ok?" He took his hand to guide him inside the room. "You're--here!" Xavier chuckled and pulled him back to his frame.

FLETCHER

Fletcher hadn't dropped his hand until the door swung open. His lips tugged up in his crooked smirk and then a toothy grin. "Hi. Hello. Greetings. Hola. Salutations," Fletcher replied to Xavier's shock. He stumbled back when Xavier threw himself at him and chuckled from all the kisses. "Damn, I should find ways to surprise you more often." He hadn't gotten past the doorway but held Xavier's hand and squeezed it. "Babe, yes, I'm fine. Everyone's fine. I just came to spend a couple days with you. I thought I'd surprise you." He slipped the duffle bag off his shoulder and let it set on the floor so he could properly hug his boyfriend. Fletcher kissed Xavier on his forehead and then said, "I missed you, and you looked so sad when you left. So I'm just here for two nights and then I fly back. I know you're working so I wont be bugging you with going places and doing a lot. I figured it would be nice to just be near you when I can, and maybe sleep or bum around here when you have to go to any meetings or anything like that."

XAVIER

Xavier let out a quiet laugh, still completely shocked by Fletcher's appearance. All he could do is attack him with kisses as he had done and stare at him incredulously. "You've got to give me a second here to make sure I'm not dreaming or hallucinating because anything is possible on the little sleep I've gotten out here." He loved surprises and he loved it even more that Fletcher had been the one to do this for him. He sighed out of relief learning that everything was fine and his smile returned quickly as he relished in his boyfriend's embrace. He pulled back a bit so that he could cup Fletcher's face and her smiled widely. "I missed you too and consider me pleasantly surprised. No one's ever...well I...I'm just speechless that's all." He listened to how long Fletcher would be in New York, feeling even happier knowing he'd be flying out to California a day after. "Thank you. This is...I rather like this." His cheeks were burning at the confession. He was usually better versed than that but Xavier was still happily taken aback by the gesture. He kissed Fletcher's lips and smiled. "Sleep. Sleep is so good." He beamed at the thought of Fletcher getting some rest while he was out here too. "I'm so happy to see you. I *was* sad. How transparent of me..." With a smile pulling at the corner of his lips,  he remained in his boyfriend's arms before taking his hand. "Come in. I'll show you around my boring room which just got a touch of glitz with you here." he pulled Fletcher inside, taking his duffel bag and placing it on the couch. "This is it. Where the magic happens. It's why I get paid the big bucks. I get a microwave and telly too. Oh, and a fridge for leftovers." He chuckled. "The bathroom is to the left and a little kitchenette over to the right over there. Are you thirsty or hungry?"

FLETCHER

"I could pinch you if it'd help you believe I'm really here," Fletcher said, bringing a hand low on Xavier's butt, priming to pinch him there. He listened and planted a kiss on Xavier's temple and then his lips, slowly returning some of the kisses Xavier showered him with a moment ago. He caught what Xavier stopped himself from saying and then gently pressed his nose to Xavier's cheek, whispering, "If the roles were reversed, I know you'd do it for me." He felt the growing warmth on his boyfriend's skin and smiled before kissing him there too. He held him  for a little while and then walked with him to look around the hotel room. He chuckled a bit as well and then said, "It’s a nice room." He took a seat on the edge of the bed and said, "I ate a sandwich on the way over here, but I ate it within the first hour of my flight. Are *you* hungry? Have you taken a break to eat?"

XAVIER

"I say you pinch me anyway." He grinned playfully, his smile never leaving his face as he relished in all the kisses given to him. Xavier places his arms on Fletcher's shoulders and when his boyfriend whispered, he nodded. "Definitely." And while that was true, that Xavier would do the same for Fletcher, it still meant so much to him that he had done this for him. As Xavier showed off his boring room, he smiled listening to Fletcher. "Uh..." He looked over to his work, realizing he only had hotel coffee and some eggs in his stomach. "Don't kill me." He moved to gather his pages into a pile and hide them in book bag before throwing that into the closet. "I've had some awful coffee and some off my omelette from this morning. I should really take a break now and since the most amazing, gorgeous, man has stepped into my hotel room, I really want to take a break with him. Want to grab something at the deli? We can walk around. I'll take you to the Empire State. Let you have your way with me later, you know the usual." He grinned as he looked in the mirror to make sure he didn't look like hell and applied some lotion to his face, hands and arms followed by a spritz of cologne.

FLETCHER

Fletcher didn't wait for Xavier to backtrack before he closed his thumb and index on his boyfriend's ass. He tenderly pecked Xavier's lips a few times and then moved to the bed. He heard the hesitant response and lifted his brows at his boyfriend. And then his face fell to non-amusement while watching Xavier hurriedly gather up his papers. "Oh I'm not gonna kill you. But I *am* gonna make you take a break now. A proper one as you'd say." His eyes stayed on Xavier, following him about as he freshened himself up. Fletcher stood and stretched his arms while walking up to stand behind Xavier. "That sounds like a good idea to me. All of it. Hell, I'd even be fine skipping the trip to the Empire State and going right to the usual," he half-joked, wrapping his arms around Xavier from behind and bending his head to inhale the freshly-applied cologne. "Maybe even skipping the walk too now..."

XAVIER

A soft chuckle fell from his lips from the pinch and Xavier's smile widened at Fletcher's words. "A proper break it is. I'm done with writing for the day anyway. My eyes are going to fall out at this rate." he watched his boyfriend from the mirror and smirked playfully. "Empire State? What's that? Never heard of her." He smiled at the reflection that now included Fletcher and lowered his arms to pull Fletcher's and tighten the grip on his waist. "Mm, boy if you don't stop..." He chuckled and lolled his head to the side so that his boyfriend could get better access to the new scent. "I am as incorrigible as you are, you know that..." He turned slowly, still in Fletcher's arms. "There's always room service...and you're *soo* tired from your flight to walk, I'm sure."  Xavier reached up to run his fingers through Fletcher's hair.  "It's only been a couple of days but I've missed a lot about you, love."

FLETCHER

"Well we don't want that," Fletcher replied of Xavier's eyes falling out. He held his boyfriend from behind and smiled, kissing his neck and enjoying the enticing scent of his cologne on his skin. He smirked at the way Xavier spoke of the Empire State Building and then shamelessly grinned despite his, "What?" full of false innocence. "Mm, no you're definitely worse, but believe me, I'm not complaining in the slightest." He righted his bent head when Xavier turned around to face him. "I've missed you too. And truthfully, I wouldn't mind a little walk. I'm sure you'd like to get out of this room since you've been working so hard. I disrupted your day so whatever you wanna do today, count me in." He shut his eyes, drawing in a deep breath while enjoying the familiar feeling of Xavier's fingers in his hair, and then he let out a content sigh. "Yeah... whatever you want to do."

XAVIER

“Definitely not,” Xavier laughed softly, watching his boyfriend through the mirror as his eyes rolled back for a moment while Fletcher kissed his neck.  He then smirked, his eyes opening again. “Mmm I don’t know. You’re pretty bad too.” He chuckled thinking how they both had a tendency of indulging in one another whenever they wanted caring very little about where they were. They’d always find a way. When they were facing each other, Xavier snapped out of his naughty but pleasant thoughts and smiled. “We’ll go for a walk and we’ll order some room service for supper.” Xavier grinned , watching Fletcher’s reaction. God, he loved this man. He took advantage of his boyfriend’s eyes being closed and kissed his lips. “When we get back I’ll do what I want to do.” He murmured against Fletcher’s mouth and then kissed him again. “See? I have some kind of restraint. It’s quite hard but…” he laughed. “It’s there.”

FLETCHER

“Not as bad," Fletcher argued in between kisses. He certainly did lean into his emotional, intellectual and physical attractions to Xavier. And unless he was absolutely dead on his feet, he never turned his boyfriend down. Hearing what Xavier proposed for them to do, Fletcher nodded, "Sounds good," and then pecked Xavier's lips. While enjoying the small caressing of his hair, he'd been caught by surprise at the kiss but responded in kind in a split second. "That type of restraint will get you into some trouble," he chuckled after opening his eyes. He grinned a little, his lips tugged up a little higher on one side. "Get your shoes on, babe. Let's go take this walk."

XAVIER

“Ehhh you say tomato…” he laughed, teasing his boyfriend, still in some disbelief that he was there with him.  He grinned at Fletcher’s reaction to the surprise kiss. “I’m a troublemaker but you love it.” Xavier pressed a quick kiss against Fletcher’s neck and then reluctantly pulled away to grab his sneakers from his bed side. He slipped them on and then grabbed his jacket and wallet. “In the spirit of surprises, I actually have one for you. I was going to save for when I got home but since you’re here, I can tell you.” He took Fletcher’s hand in his opened the door to the hotel room. As they walked out, Xavier gave his boyfriend’s hand a gentle squeeze. “This is the season finale we are working on which you knew but what you didn’t know isssss drum roll, babe…” he grinned and began walking backwards so that Xavier could look at Fletcher. “I’m going to be home for six months.” He smiled widened and he stopped to lean against the wall beside the elevator. “I just have to be in NYC for a special in June and that’s it. I have no big jobs here and I’ll be focusing more on little things coming up domestically. So…” he stood up straight when the elevator arrived, “you’ll get to see this mug more often.”

FLETCHER

"And you say 'toe-*mah*-toe'," Fletcher quipped with his version of a British accent on the produce item. "Damn right you are. And yes, I do." He lifted his brows at Xavier saying he had a surprise for him. Fletcher was about to open his mouth to say something ahead of this, but he closed his mouth and walked out of the hotel room with Xavier--his own phone and wallet still in his pockets. He listened to his boyfriend and glanced just ahead of them to make sure the hallway stayed clear for his backwards strides. His blinked twice as a smile slowly spread across his lips. "No shit?" Reaching past Xavier, he pressed the 'down' button on the elevator and then said, "That's the best news I could've gotten today. Next to my flights all being on time." He flashed a grin at his little joke and then wrapped his arms around Xavier. "I'm glad you'll be around more for a long while, sweetheart." As he drew back to look into Xavier's eyes, he said, "It'll give me more chances to not only show but tell you I love you."

XAVIER

“Are you making fun of me, Rizz?” He smirked, super excited about the news he just broke out and even more excited about Fletcher’s reaction.  “Yes shit.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. Getting to see his kids and Fletcher and his friends more made him so happy. “I’m glad you like the news. And when I get back, you can help me look for a family car. Something we can put a car seat in and that Drew will feel comfortable in so I can take him places too.” He already had so many plans. He wanted to help Drew with his garden, help his boyfriend more with the baby, take Winter and Henry out more and spend time with everyone. “Me too.” His lips pulled up into a wide grin upon hearing his pet name and at the little joke his boyfriend made. He’d never grow tired of any of this. He was convinced. He wrapped his arms around Fletcher too and Xavier kept his gaze on Fletcher, looking up at him full of joy. His grin melted into a small smile, his lips twitching slightly before he let a soft chuckle fall from him. “You love me, huh?” Xavier  whispered before the ding of the elevator went off. He was all smiles, his teeth taking across his bottom lip as he walked into the elevator with his boyfriend. “I love you too. *so much*.”

FLETCHER

"Some people are so touchy," Fletcher easily fired back with the movie quote. He laughed a bit with Xavier and listened some more. "A family car, huh?" Hearing some of the reasons Xavier wanted one had a warmth spreading from Fletcher's hart, out to every orifice of his body. The way that their two worlds were melding was somthing Fletcher hadn't expected and not at the pace it was happening. But he didn't want to fight it. He had no real reason to. He knew how he felt about Xavier and his kids, and he knew Xavier's feelings for him and his family. When the elevator doors slid open, Fletcher headed inside the lift with his boyfriend. "I love you," he clearly repeated, pressing the first floor button and then taking hold of Xavier's other hand as well. "I know you do. I couldn't be more humbled to be loved by you, X." His eyes were fixed on the younger man as he said, "I guess I could've waited until we were on our walk to tell you - make it a little more romantic like you deserve. But I promised I would tell you as soon as I knew." It was a promise he'd largely made to himself and he was committing to it. He kissed Xavier's forehead and then dipped his chin to kiss his lips. "I love you, Xavier Mitchell."

XAVIER

Xavier laughed at Fletcher's quick response, loving the fact that his boyfriend knew the reference. "A family car. If I can get a 7 seater, imagine all the trips we can all take over the summer." He didn't know how to express the fact that Fletcher's confession had made his entire body light up and that he was feeling a pleasant warmth course over his body. He took his boyfriend's hand and listened intently. He has never felt this way toward anyone. Xavier found himself feeling excited about future plans. Long-term future plans that might have scared him to even think about in the past. He smiled as his boyfriend spoke with great vulnerability and genuine intent. Xavier appreciated the openness and the fact that Fletcher had waited until it felt right for him. "What do you mean? This is romantic. It's coming from you and I know it's from the heart and that is what makes it memorable and romantic to me." His heart literally soared and Xavier returned his boyfriend's kiss. "I love you. I could hear that over and over again, you know. I don't think it'll get old. I'll take care of you, Fletcher. I'll take care of your heart." He'd never hurt him. Xavier was his. Glad that no one decided to get on the elevator, Xavier kissed his boyfriend on the lips once more before they got to the first floor. As they walked out, he kept his hand in Fletcher's. "You know, it's funny. Going back to when I first kissed you and how we had our reservations because of our personal lives and everything...now all I can think about is how we came into each other's lives for a reason." He held the door for Fletcher and smiled as he walked out after him. "Thank you for telling me. When it felt right for you. It makes it even more special." They walked hand in hand.

FLETCHER

"You're adorably thoughtful, you know that? A seven-seater sounds like you're gonna be looking at a minivan or a big SUV. Do either of those seem like something you're interested in?" Fletcher knew they'd talked about Disneyland already and figured that was going to be quite the trip in itself for the summer. A new car and a trip for both of their families sounded like a full Summer to him, but he could be wrong. But he and Xavier had time to sort out Summer plans for themselves, their kids and Drew. For now, h was letting himself feel the bit of jitters that he wasn't showing but came with him telling Xavier out loud for the first time that he loved him. He meant it and he was glad that he'd said the words to his boyfriend. "You give me a lot of leeway, sweetheart," he replied, gently disagreeing on how romantic a gesture he'd executed with his first time telling Xavier that he loved him. "Well you're going to hear it over and over from me. Taking care of my heart's more than I could ask for. I love you and I'll do all I can to take care of yours. You're nurturing to me and my family and I can only hope to be that to you and yours whenever you guys let me." Fletcher walked through the door, smiling as he thought back to their first kiss--how unexpected it was, how it completely caught him off guard and how he  may have had mixed feelings at the time but was quickly drawn to how kissable Xavier's pillowy lips were. He continued holding Xavier's hand as they walked out of the hotel and down the street. His eyes went to the younger man, and then the building he pointed out - a small smile appearing at the kiss to his knuckles, followed by the sight of the NBC logo and knowing what it meant. And then he circled back to Xavier's question. "I knew before I got here. I've never jumped on a plane for someone before in my life. Booking that flight? Yeah... I knew you had my heart and I wouldn't be leaving San Francisco to come here if I didn't love you."

XAVIER

"Stahppp Adorable I am not but yeah! I'll even get a pair of New Balances and a plaid shirt with cargo short. I gotta get a hat that says *ask me about my dad jokes*." Xavier squeezed Fletcher's hand and chuckled. "What do you think? I can make an SUV sexy." Xavier was already enjoying the idea of being able to mesh both families together for a trip. Ever since Disney was mentioned, he had been filled with excitement. "We're going to have these little fights all the time, I think." Xavier smiled widely. Thinking back to their first kiss, it was one of those times when his extroverted confidence paid off for him. At the moment, Xavier felt that if Fletcher decked him, he'd be valid but everything that happened after continued to pleasantly surprise him and it was pretty clear that they couldn't get enough of one another. "Well, now that I'll be home more, maybe we can arrange our schedules so that I can bring the kids with me to your home and you guys can come by more often like we had discussed. We can stay at each other's places here and there as long as Drew is taken care of. He's important to me so I'm always going to consider his safety, time, and feelings. And Winter and Henry already love Phoebe and spending time with all of you. It's very humbling to see how easily our families do that." Xavier continued walking toward the Empire State. There was a grill and deli shop a few stores down and he was hoping to get some food and goodies on the way back to add to whatever they wanted from room service. Fletcher's explanation made Xavier smile and even blush all over again. "And you say it wasn't romantic. I don't care what we were doing at the time, that's pretty grand gesture of the Rom Com variety. Look out Ryan Gosling...my man's got them all beat." He glanced over to Fletcher and winked. "No one has ever done anything that big for me. Ever. I'll never forget it."

FLETCHER

"Oh Jesus, yeah way to suck all the adorable out of it with that mental image," Fletcher joked. "And if you get that hat, just know it's not one I'll be buying for you. But you *are* for damn sure adorable. Period. End of story." He chuckled a little, "I think it'd be more of a challenge with a minivan than an SUV but in this case, the man's gonna make all the sexiness - not the car. And yeah, we probably are gonna have these little fights. You'll be wrong each time you're denying that you're adorable or cute or anything else that's true about yourself." Time had flown so quickly from when their first kiss occurred. And so much had changed between them from before then and after it as well. He was glad for the changes that followed their first kiss, namely because it led to them being where they were now.

"I like the sound of that. And I love you for taking Drew into consideration. Phoebe too, but she's more adaptable to whatever we decide to do." He smiled a little while thinking of his little girl being back home, and he hoped that she wasn't giving Drew or Emiliana too much trouble. "When I get back, I'll get the spare room arranged. If Winter and Henry don't mind sleeping in the same room, I can put an air mattress in there, or I can set one of them up in the living room so they don't have to worry about sharing space with Phoebe and think on being quieter or shit like that when you guys are over." He thought about investing in a cot or something that might be more comfortable than an air mattress. He was thankful as well for how well their families blended already. His eyes only briefly wandered around their vaguely familiar surroundings before they landed back on Xavier. "I'll hav to add some sorta comedy to it to make sure I cover the 'com' part of this rom-com you've got us in." He snorted at the mention of Ryan Gosling. "You're more than deserving of the gestures, big and small, sweetheart. Don't ever forget that either."

XAVIER

"Gotta get the daddy look going!" He smirked at Fletcher's words and feigned disappointment, placing his free hand on his chest. "I'd have to get it stitched at one of those places at the mall because no way that hat exists." Xavier chuckled, unable to keep his happiness hidden. "I won't argue with you because you're in love with me so you'll probably win most arguments." He laughed, every so often leaning into his boyfriend as they walked. "Well, I want you to go shopping with me next week . I trust your taste and I'm super impulsive so you'd be my anchor." Xavier smiled. He knew that they balanced each other well that way. "So I'll be a sexy daddy in my SUV dating the sexiest daddy. I love how confident you are in my erroneous behavior." He kissed Fletcher's cheek quickly. "We should go to the Brooklyn Bridge tomorrow after I drop off my pages to Lorne and I give you a tour. You'd love Brooklyn. We can hit up some food spots."

"Of course. I know you are a big part of his life and betterment, and I wouldn't take you away or anything like that. If anything, I want to help you and him as much as I can especially now that I'm free as a bird for a few months." He smiled when Fletcher spoke. They were nearing their destination and Xavier had to add, "You know, darling. Your face just lights up every time you talk about her. It's the sweetest bloody thing. I adore it. And Winter and Henry won't mind it at all. The first few months they moved into my house, they shared a room because it felt safer for them. They share a very unique and precious bond. They're super adaptable so whatever I can do to help you figure it out, I will. I have two spare rooms now so I can make a mini nursery for Phoebe for when she comes over with you. Winter will have a field day with that. She's really into interior design like my mum. " He chuckled after Fletcher spoke. "I think you've got the com part covered. I think you're pretty funny."

Once they arrived at the Empire State, Xavier pressed another kiss against his boyfriend's cheek once more. "Thank you. I don't know if you know how much that means to me. You being so thoughtful and all. I'm very lucky." They entered the building and Xavier showed off his City Pass and SAG ID. The young man at the ticket booth seemed thrilled to see a celebrity come up to the booth but kept himself as reserved as possible. "Enjoy your afternoon at the Empire State Building, sir." Xavier nodded and tucked away his pass and ID into his wallet before taking Fletcher's hand again to walk toward the elevator "This is my first time going to the top. I've done the exhibits and I've eaten downstairs. I hear the view is phenomenal."

FLETCHER

"Next thing I know, you're gonna be walking around in sandals with socks on. And we both know you've got better fashion sense than all of that." Fletcher wouldn't consider himself the most fashionable person in the world but he knew how to dress well enough when the occasion called for it. Xavier, on the other hand, regularly had impeccable fashion which was something Fletcher found attractive about him. "Well there's no fun in you already deciding I'm gonna win the arguments. Besides, now that just makes me wanna start stupid shit I know isn't true to see how far you let that go." He smiled a bit and then said, "I can do that. Whether you just wanna look and do some behind the wheel tests or if you wanna drive off the lot in something, I'll be there to help you make sure it's not some suburban-type of car." He chuckled, "I'm gonna remember you said that you love that. And it's not erroneous, it's facts." He listened and nodded a bit, "Whatever you wanna do, as long as I'm not getting in your way."

Fletcher knew one of the other things he loved about Xavier was how understanding he'd been when it came to Drew and the role Fletcher played in his life. And he was grateful to Xavier wanting to help him, even if he himself didn't know what that looked like just yet. "Thank you," was all he could tell him for the time being, and he did. So after lifting their joined hands and planting a kiss on the back of his boyfriend's. Fletcher listened to Xavier some more and cracked another gentle smile. He'd also been happy to hear that the arrangement of them dividing their time between each other's homes seemed doable. "Is that what Winter wants to do when she graduates? Interior design?" He gave Xavier a light and good-natured nudge when complimented that he thought he was funny.

Walking inside of the building had Fletcher glancing around but his eyes caught sight of the badge and then arched a brow. He'd still been following Xavier to the elevator when he asked, "Uh-huh. So, uh, wait, the badge you showed. Is it also some Empire State VIP pass here?"

XAVIER

““Oh no I stop at sandals with socks. “ Xavier grinned, glancing over to his boyfriend. Looking good helped with making him feel good and Xavier did his best to live by that. He was smiling the whole time Fletcher spoke knowing damn well that he was going to let him win arguments easily and was simply teasing. His smile turned into something a little more devilish and he wiggled his brows as if challenging or taking the challenge of keeping it up only to chuckle. “Don’t worry, we will still argue.” Xavier glanced over lovingly every chance he could. He still couldn’t believe that Fletcher had come out to see him. This was a grand gesture in Xavier’s book and he’d always remember this. He was glad to hear that Fletcher was willing to go with him to start some car shopping. In truth, he knew he wanted the McLaren but a family car would be incredibly different and he was excited to shop with Fletcher especially when he wanted him to have a set of keys in case he needed a bigger car.  “Thanks, babe. Well got to Volvo for starters when I get back.” He chuckled, loving Fletcher’s feisty spirit. It was just one of Xavier’s favorite things about him. “You’re not getting in my way. You’re saving me from boredom” he had already finished most of his pages and was ready to assign skits. The rest of his stay would be easy and then he’d be home free.

He smiled at his boyfriend, wanting nothing more than to always reassure him that he was going to be there not only for Fletcher but every aspect of his life and that included Drew and Phoebe. His kids also loved them and that made Xavier so happy. “Always.” He smiled at the kiss against his hand. “I think she wants to get into design at some capacity whether it’s interior or fashion. She keeps telling me she wants to look into fashion and design schools so that’s what we will be doing next year.” He chuckled at the nudge, genuinely thinking Fletcher was hysterical and loving that it was just for him sometimes.

Xavier smiled and handed him the city pass and SAG ID unsure which one Fletcher was talking about. “Most people come to the 82 floor. You need reservations for the top deck and an Express Pass to skip the lines.  The City Pass is to get easy admission and the ID helps with skipping the lines without a reservation. Usually it’s insane but we’re going to the 102 floor and we will get a panoramic view of New York City. Also, it’ll be more private.” Xavier pressed a kiss against Fletcher’s lips and headed toward the elevator to the top deck where someone was waiting for them to take them up.

FLETCHER

"Well thank fuck there's a line," Fletcher quipped and smirked to his boyfriend. He'd probably float the idea to Henry and Winter to get him some sort of 'dad'-related baseball cap for Father's Day though. "I'm sure we will. Besides, wasn't there a talk about great makeup sex when it came to arguing?" He gave a tiny grin at that and briefly thought about his and Xavier's relationship, mostly about how loving Xavier was in every way possible. While Fletcher didn't have much in the way of meaningful dating history, he'd been with enough people to honestly say that Xavier was the sweetest person he had ever met. He was both strong and gentle at the same time, funny and emotional, thoughtful and easygoing. He was a devoted friend, a wonderful lover, and he made Fletcher feel like it was a true honor not only being in his company but being his boyfriend. He thought about this as they walked and conversed with each other. "Volvo huh? Alright, sticking with the speedy, foreign luxury cars, I see." He winked, knowing full well that while Volvo was foreign to both of them, the McLaren cars were very much British. He chuckled a little, "Boredom? Do you have some other kind of meeting or something before you have to fly back?" Fletcher would only be there for one more night after this evening, but he'd come in the middle of Xavier's NYC stint.

Listening on some more, he took in what Xavier was saying about Winter's design interests. "As long as she keeps knowing she can do anything she sets her mind to and puts in the work for. She'll be great regardless, and she's got plenty of time to explore her options." And when Xavier handed over the two cards, Fletcher realized he'd seen the SAG ID and thought it was what Xavier had shown to gain them access inside. He'd been vaguely familiar with the city passes from his childhood but hadn’t seen one, let alone held one since he was a kid and his class had taken a field trip to the American Museum of Natural History. He remembered his dad being convinced Fletcher would need one while his mom argued that they would just need to send Fletcher with a one-time discounted payment along with the permission slip. Fletcher's dad bought the city pass anyway, only to learn that in the end, his wife was right. Fletcher had been listening to Xavier while staring at the city pass and thinking on the memory, only to mentally swat it away. Returning fully to the present, he handed both badges back to his boyfriend as they rode the elevator up. He met and returned the kiss and stared around at the elevator's interior. "How many times did you say you've been here before? This is your first time to the very top, right?"

XAVIER

"I mean, even I have limitations." Xavier chuckled knowing his line existed way before sandals and socks. At the mention of makeup sex, he couldn't help but smile wider and give his boyfriend a playful sideways glance. "Uh, yes. Main reason I'll pick arguments with you so can have your way with me after and vice-versa." He kept his voice low just for Fletcher. He wasn't argumentative at all and while he didn't mind conflict, it rarely came looking for him. Jeremy was probably the most troublesome person he had met. Going to therapy has helped Xavier with effectively sharing his feelings and conflict resolution. While arguing was healthy and he agreed that is was, he didn't think it would ever get to the point of being explosive however if it did, he had the tools to resolve things. He loved Fletcher and with that came understanding and patience that would help their relationship flourish. He laughed at the Volvo comment, nodding at Fletcher. "I love nice things, what can I say?" he then added, "And it's a super safe brand so I feel like it would be perfect with all the precious cargo I'll be carrying." He smiled, thinking on his work week. "I mostly have to make sure I write all the pages assigned which I have and assign them. I'm due to perform on Saturday obviously but from tomorrow until then, I'm free after I drop off my pages unless I'm pulled into a meeting to discuss anything."

"I want Henry and Winter to follow their dreams, whatever they are and I want to help them accomplish that. Winter has a lot of potential. She's so bright and so good at what she does. She plays around with her school uniform all the time. She tells me how her classmates constantly ask for a 'Winter Original'." Xavier beamed proudly as he thought about his daughter and son. "I think Henry is going to be a Pokemon master. Haven't told him that isn't an actual trade but that's okay." He chuckled once more. He watched Fletcher go somewhere else in his thoughts and tilted his head.

Taking the badges back, Xavier smiled at his softly as he tucked them away into his wallet. "Are you alright, baby?" When they went into the elevator, Xavier greeted the operator and then responded to Fletcher, "It is my first time at the top. I've been here a couple of times since I'm right down the block . Usually to get my mind off things or wake up and get some coffee. The restaurants are nice and the shops too. There's so much here. They even do a movie night. I think Mama Mia is happening tomorrow? It's magnificent how much operates in just one building. I'm glad I'm going to the top with you though. It seems right."

FLETCHER

"And thank god for that," Fletcher quipped even though he had full confidence in this already, given Xavier's fashion sense that was always on display. He grinned at the look on the younger man's face as well as his response about make-up sex and murmured a, "Good," as they continued walking. And while Fletcher knew he could be stubborn and was often blunt, he was grateful for Xavier's maturity as well as his own, particularly when it came to things that truly mattered. He wasn't bothered in the least by Xavier liking nice things. "I like them too sometimes, I just can't always afford them," he replied with a single, light chuckle. It wasn't meant as any sort of dig or even to comment on the difference in their finances and income. Fletcher was just very matter-of-fact when he wasn't being so obviously sarcastic.  "I'm looking forward to us taking a look around." And when he heard what all the rest of Xavier's week was likely going to be, Fletcher nodded a bit and then said, "Look at you, getting ahead on your work. Good job, X. And if you end up in meetings or something while I'm here, I can nap it out at the hotel."

One thing he’d quickly grown to love about Xavier was how caring a father he was. Winter and Henry were his children in every way that mattered and he’d been a loving, doting and nurturing father to them which from what Xavier had told him, both children had been lacking–Winter in particular. “You will help them, and because you will, they’ll be great in their paths in life.” He’d really had no doubt in that and knew the two kids were just as lucky to have him as he was, them. He smiled a bit, “Maybe he’ll be able to channel that Pokemon mastery into a career path. Hell, if I knew as a kid that people made money from playing video games, maybe I would’ve gotten into them more than I did.”

When asked if he was alright, Fletcher glanced down at Xavier, “Yeah, just thinking is all but I’m listening.” He leaned over and pressed an assuring kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead and then heard him answer about the Empire State Building. “A movie night, huh? I didn’t know that.” He cracked a small, crooked smile about it seeming right for Xavier and him going to the top together. “Another first with me, huh?” He’d looked to the doors as the elevator slowed to a stop but spoke to Xavier again. “I’m glad we’re doing this together too. The view’s gonna be wild, I’m sure.”

XAVIER

Xavier let a light-hearted chuckle fall from his lips as he walked hand in hand with his boyfriend. He enjoyed all of Fletcher's reactions to his responses and the banter they partook in was just one of Xavier's favorite things about their relationship. A gentle smile appeared against his features at Fletcher telling him he liked nice things too but couldn't always afford them. Xavier was just happy with the chance to spoil him and his family. "Yeah, and this economy is bonkers too but I hope you'll let me continue spoiling you." He nudged him with a grin. He would never want to make his boyfriend uncomfortable but he'd try to do little things here and there for him. "Me too! And I must get a car seat for Phoebe too so you can help me with that since I'm clueless about those things." He did feel very accomplished with his work in his last week in New York City but he owed it all to wanting to get home and spend all the time he could with the people he loved. "Thank you, thank you. A nap sounds nice! You need it, that's for sure, baby."

Thinking about the future of his children worried Xavier but he also looked forward to seeing them grow up. They have only been in his life for such a short time but he felt like they have been a family forever.  Imagining Winter going off to university and Henry starting high school often got him teary-eyed. They meant so much to him. "Thank you for saying that. I plan on making sure they get where they want to be." He smiled at Fletcher's comment. "Yeah, I mean look at Riley but what you're doing now, you're incredible at it. You have such a talent. I know I'm biased here but I mean it. I've seen your Instagram, and seen the comments from people who admire your work. Now that you've mentioned it though, I'm curious about Fletcher as a kid. When you were Henry's age, what were you into?"

Smiling at the kiss, he then nodded in response to the movie night. "Yeah, it seems nice." Xavier laughed and waited to be out of earshot from the elevator operator and murmured, "Always popping my cherries." When they stepped out, Xavier's smile widened immediately. There weren't too many people at the top mostly because it was mid-week in the middle of the day and because reservations were hard to get but man was it breathtaking. "Oh, wow. Take a look at that."

FLETCHER

"Tell me about it," Fletcher agreed when Xavier commented about the economy. But he squeezed his boyfriend's hand. "As long as you don't go crazy with it, you can still be my lowkey sugar daddy," he teased a bit. Considering much of the spoiling had been for his family and not him directly, Fletcher had been fine with it. The fact that Xavier was keeping his uncle and daughter in mind while talking of car shopping for his own family was spoiling for him. And Xavier organizing the sip and see for Phoebe was extremely sweet as well. He knew the gift giving was a love language of Xavier's as well and since Xavier wasn't taking away from Fletcher still being able to do things for himself and his family, he wasn't bothered. "Don't worry, babe, I'll help you out with the car seat."

He'd gone from thinking about a nap to thinking about Winter and Henry and he smiled a bit, listening to Xavier. "I know you will." He nodded a bit, "Yeah, although Riley makes money from designing the games, not playing them, right?" And when Xavier turned the conversation to him, Fletcher took the compliments in humble silence but raised a brow when he asked about him when he was younger. "Young Fletcher was a little shit. Just ask Drew," he snorted and then abruptly stopped. "Actually, don't ask him. He's got too many stories." He glanced up in thought and let out a pensive sigh, "Let's see, when I was around Henry's age, I was into the Niners, *Xena: Warrior Princess*, *Street Fighter* and *The Legend of Zelda*, and being a little shit to anyone who criticized or made fun of me. What were you like?"

He grinned at Xavier's cherry-popping comment and then quipped, "And what an honor it is." He stepped out of the elevator but his gaze had been on Xavier until the younger man indicated the view. Fletcher looked out and gently parted his lips. He'd never seen NYC like this before and all he could manage to say then was, "...Shit..." at the seemingly endless skyline. "What a view."

XAVIER

"Oh, yeah? I kinda love that." He grinned at his boyfriend's words, glad that he was open to him getting him a few things here and there. He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed Fletcher's knuckles. "Thanks, love." Xavier smiled at the other, keeping his gaze on him when Fletcher wasn't looking. It made him incredibly happy having the older man in his life and to hear that he felt the same as Xavier did had put him on cloud nine. He felt so lucky to have found someone to share all the big and little things with and was even more grateful that it seemed to have happened at the right time for both of them. It was one of those times where the stars really did align.

"That's right. Luna does the playing." He chuckled, finding it curious his best friend and Khamani's wife found each other on that island. It really was wonderful how they were all in each other's lives now. "He started telling me a few things but hasn't gone to deep into stories. I'll get some from him soon though. I'm sure you were a little shit though." He laughed. "Oh no, no. You've activated curious Xavier and you know I'm relentless." Xavier bit his bottom lip as Fletcher went on. "Oh! Xena! I love Xrna and Hercules too! All the greats I see and of course you were dishing it out even then." Xavier flashed him an easy-going smile. "Me? I was bossy. Always telling Clayton what to do and just wanting things a specific way. My dad insisted I was a perfectionist but I'd say I just liked things a certain way." He smirked. "Had a great deal of anxiety so I joked around a lot to get over it. Was the class clown, loved to hear people laugh. There was always something electric about it all. I was obsessed with Toy Story especially Buzz Lightyear. Power Rangers were everything to me aaaanddd I had a giant crush on the pink ranger."

Xavier then laughed again. "And the green ranger." He sighed softly and then let his gaze fall on the scenery before it shifted toward his boyfriend. "Yeah...shit." He walked  over to get the best view of the city line and beyond. "This is truly stunning. I see why it's considered so romantic." He wiggled his brows comically and chuckled. After a few minutes of taking it all end, he added, "Thank you for coming here. Grand gestures...they're kind of my weak spot you know." He gave Fletcher's hand a squeeze, "thank you, my love."

FLETCHER

"Want me to start calling you 'Sugar' or 'SD' for short?" he joked although he wasn't totally opposed to calling Xavier 'sugar' when he already called him 'sweetheart'. Both were fitting pet names for his boyfriend in his eyes. There were moments where being there in NYC with him felt absolutely surreal. But the hand squeezing and kissing with Xavier grounded him all over again. Eventually, he'd end up telling him how this wasn't his first time in the big apple and how he'd actually been born here and still remmwbered parts of it from childhood. But now wasn't the time to open that Empire State-sized can of worms.

"Ugh. Yeah I'm sure it won't take much for you to get those stories from him," he replied with a faux soured face. "But yeah, I was. Drew and the assistant principal knew each other on a first name basis when I was in middle school, and I wasn't much better for most of high school." He wasn't necessarily proud of it now but back then, it took him time to grow up and mamage his anger and resentment in ways other than mouthing off to people and getting into fights. He smirked and raised his brows, a bit surprised hearing that Xavier was bossy. "Really? That's hard to picture, you being bossy. But how much did your brother actually listen to you?" The organization made sense. He knew Xavier kept a clean home and car, and when he cooked, he was good at cleaning as he went. "Class clown doesn't surprise me but Toy Story, huh?" He liked learning these things about Xavier, including the Power Ranger crushes. "I mean, who *didn't* have a crush on Kimberly?" he chuckled a bit and then grinned when Xavier added the green ranger to his crushes.

He took in the view around them, still keep his hand in Xavier's while committing as much of the moment to memory. Not just the sight but being up there with someone he loved and felt glad to be sharing this moment with. He looked to Xavier, really looked into his eyes and smiled warmly. "I'm learning that. And I'm glad we did this." He kept his eyes on his boyfriend for a bit longer before leaning in and kissing him on his full lips. His free hand came up to cup his jaw and cheek and when he drew back, he told him, "I love you," followed by another brief, tender kiss. "Do you want to take a couple pictures up here before we head back down?"

XAVIER

Xavier smiled at the pet name. “Sugar reminds me of Rogue from X-Men.” His smiled widened a bit more at the thought. “I’ll just call you mon amour.” Xavier adored the idea even though every time Fletcher called him ‘sweetheart’ , it did something to him. He couldn’t explain it but he knew he loved it.

Xavier listened intently, smiling as Fletcher spoke. He knew that the other had been a trouble maker when he was a lot younger and knew that Drew was responsible for his turn around. “And look at you now. Still a trouble maker but in a hot way.” His smile grew some more. “But seriously, thank goodness for Drew. You just needed the right guidance and he made sure you got it. I wonder if we would have been friends. Like, if the age gap wasn’t a thing. And yeah really! I was bossy but Clayton never listened.” He laughed and shook his head thinking about growing up with his twin and with Riley and Athena. “He fell in loved when he was 12 and never looked back.” Xavier smiled. “Look, Toy Story was all the rage. I really wanted to go to Disney World and meet Buzz and get all the merch. We never go to as kids but my parents threw me a Toy Story birthday party and got a character for it and it was delightful.” When Fletcher made his comment about Kimberly he laughed and nodded. “Right?! And Tommy was a crush no one knew about. Not even Riley or Clayton.  Tommy and Prince Caspian are responsible for my bisexual awakening.” He shook his head at himself and then directed his attention to the view. He was sure that he had never felt this way about anyone.  Xavier loved Fletcher fully and wanted to have more memories like this one with him and their families too.  There was nothing in the world that seemed more special.

“Me too.” Xavier whispered, his gaze flickering up to meet Fletcher’s. The slight breeze gave him a little chill down his neck as he returned his boyfriend’s kiss, raising his free hand to rest against Fletcher’s.

He smiled hearing the proclamation for the third time that afternoon and Xavier knew he’d never grow tired of hearing it. “I love you too.” More than he’s ever loved anyone romantically. “And definitely. I’ll make it one of my lock screens and put it on my desk.” He smiled as he pulled his phone from his pocket before accessing the camera and turning it to selfie mode. “You have longer arms, you do the honors.” He handed Fletcher the phone and then pressed a kiss against his cheek as one of the poses.

FLETCHER

"I mean, I could say it in a raspy, Southern accent whenever I say it if that does something for you," Fletcher replied seriously, despite the twitch of his lips.

Hus lips did end up forming a sly smirk though and he quipped, "No regrets," at being called a troublemaker by his boyfriend. "Yeah I owe Drew more than I could ever say or do for him." Fletcher knew it wasn't the first time he'd said something like this to Xavier but it was no less true then as it was now. "It's hard to say if we'd be friends or not. I wasn't the kid who gave other kids the 'let's be friends' vibes. I could probably count on one hand the number of people who were friends back then. Weirdly, even though I wasn't the most openly friendly, it didn't really seem to stop people from trying to talk to me or be friends or whatever though." He remained a tentatively listener to Xavier and softly grinned. "Your love for Toy Story's adorable. Are there pictures somewhere of you from this birthday party? But Tommy and Prince Caspian, huh? You like your brunettes, don't you?" He chuckled and kissed the side of Xavier's head, and then got to looking at the view with his love.

While he prepared to take his phone from his back pocket, he listened to Xavier and chuckled, "Oh is that all?" He smiled and then chuckled again, accepting Xavier's phone. "Sure thing, sugar," he answered with his best Rogue impression, positioning the camera and  smiling softly as Xavier kissed his cheek. He took the picture and then turned his head to nuzzle Xavier's temple for another picture before muttering, "C'mere," tilting his head to meet his lips for a kiss. He remembered to tap the camera button a couple of times before drawing back and then asked, "Should we take one where we're *both* looking at the camera?"

XAVIER

Xavier glanced over at his boyfriend with a smirk and then chuckled softly. "You do that and we're not leaving the hotel room after we eat."

"hm, I bet." Xavier kept his smirk. "Bad influence is what you are." He replied playfully thinking how much he loved Fletcher for who he was. He then smiled gently at the mention of Drew who had become someone Xavier respected and appreciated in such a short time. "Remind me to thank him a million times for everything." He was a rock for Fletcher. He was his boyfriend's anchor and he'd go as far as saying he was his savior and if not for him, perhaps Xavier would have never met him and his boyfriend wouldn't have had the opportunity to know what true parents were like. "I could see that. All of that. I was a little awkward. A lot went into that with being one of the only black kids in my class raised by a white family. So comedy...that's how I made friends. But I probably would have been one of those trying to be your friends." He sighed, holding on to Fletcher's hand, enjoying the easy conversation. He felt his cheeks flush at being called adorable for liking Toy Story. "Aw shucks, thank you." He then nodded. "I know my parents have tons. I'll have them send me some to show you. Also, just remembered their Facebook has photos. And you know what? yeah, I do—troublemakers with a big-ass heart brunettes. I'm a giant sucker for those." He laughed as well, completely engrossed in their moment.

"Yeah, that's all." He chuckled too and then bit his lip as he smiled at Fletcher's Rogue impression. "Oh, you're in trouble now." Forgetting they were taking pictures, Xavier closed his eyes momentarily as his boyfriend nuzzled his temple, letting a soft laugh fall from his lips before they were met with Fletcher's pair. He nodded at the question that came next and Xavier softened his gaze, admiring his troublemaker before looking at the camera with a giant smile.

Once the photos were taken, he pocketed his phone and continued admiring the view. "We'll get our sandwiches to go and then you can do whatever you want with me." His gaze flickered up to meet his boyfriend's eyes. "Make some fantasies come true. Anything." He reached up to gently run his fingers through the side of Fletcher's hair. "Proper thank you for coming out here for me, mon amour."

FLETCHER

"You say that like it's a threat, but all I hear is a challenge." Fletcher met his boyfriend's smirk with one of his own and started thinking about Southern accents.

"Moooi? A bad influence?" He said, faux shock with his free hand pointing to his own chest. "Well that's just painfully accurate." He knew as much and didn't actually have a problem with this description of himself. And he listened to Xavier, speaking kindly and highly of his uncle while not knowing the full extent of how much Drew deserved all the thanks. One day, Fletcher would tell him about his parents and why he ended up I'm Drew's care, but today wasn't that day. He was far too happy and had plenty to relish about their time and having told Xavier he loved him. He listened to the younger man and sobered a bit hearing some of the reason behind Xavier leaning into comedy and being the class clown. Fletcher squeezed his hand, "I can't imagine what that had been like growing up especially. The fucking stupidity of some people." He lifted their joined hands to kiss Xavier's, and then let their hands remain held at their sides. A small grin appeared at Xavier's "type" and then he chuckled, "A half dozen tattoos might be a bonus to that, hm?"

He'd taken a few more pictures for them and then arched his brows, "No, no, I'm the trouble-maker, not the trouble-getter." He kissed Xavier on his lips and had taken a couple more pictures before handing the phone back to his boyfriend. "Oh really? Hot damn, sweetheart. Say less." He smirked and pressed another, lingering kiss to Xavier's lips, his free hand cupping Xavier's neck while gliding his thumb along the Brit's jaw. "We better get outta here or we'll never make it to getting sandwiches."

XAVIER

"Take it as you will." Xavier shook his head all the while stealing a glance at Fletcher's smirk only for his lips to do the same.

"Uh yes! But I kinda sorta love this bad influence so I guess it's okay." Xavier teased Fletcher. He loved the way his boyfriend challenged him and taught him new things. He had become open to exploration he wouldn't have known about if not for meeting him and it was just one of the reasons Xavier had fallen for the other. He smiled softly at Fletcher's reaction to how and why Xavier had chosen comedy. "Mm. I blame the parents. I always said if kids are out there spewing unkind things, what are the parents teaching them? It's okay though look at me now, bitches!" He laughed. "Kidding. Kind of. Nah, eat shit." He laughed again, his expression melting at the sight of Fletcher kissing their joined hands. Little gestures were just as incredible as the big ones. "The tattoos were definitely a bonus. I got myself a baddie." He playfully nudged Fletcher with his shoulder and grinned.

"I think you can be both." He laughed and kissed his boyfriend. If he could, he'd devour him there. Xavier took the phone from Fletcher and quickly sent them to him, a smirk landing on his face at Fletcher's words. He looked up at him and returned the kiss, turning to face him completely, a sly little smirk playing against his lips. "We need to eat. Sustenance. I saw my trainer this morning so I have a lot of energy..." He chuckled and went back to taking Fletcher's hand, gesturing toward the elevator. "I need you to wipe me out."

FLETCHER

"You know I will," Fletcher quipped. And then he gave Xavier a questioning glance, "You *kinda sorta* love the bad influence thing?" He pecked Xavier's temple and then gazed out at the skyline as the two of them continued to talk. But his eyes fell back on his boyfriend when they got back to talking about what kids were like when Xavier was growing up. "Eh, yeah parents can be a big part but other dumbass people are influences too. Peer pressure and shit like that. I'd had idiots I'd gotten into fights with because their friends were idiots too and they were just copying what the other was saying or doing." After squeezing Xavier's hand, he said, "Yeah you better own that. You're amazing, smart, handsome, loving, sexy, successful, and funny." When he lowered their hands between them, he chuckled, "The baddie and the zaddy," pointing between the two of them.

"Eh, I can be and I have been. But in this case, I just wanna make a little trouble." He kissed Xavier deeply, only reluctantly lightening the kiss to mutter against his lips. "Didn't you say room service was a thing?" He kissed the corner of his mouth and to his jaw, heading to his neck where he murmured, "You need that, huh? Well I've been sitting on an airplane for hours so I've got plenty of energy that needs to be used up." He nipped Xavier's ear and then lifted his head, "Let's go. You've got me wanting to show you how much I love you, and wanting to fulfill that need of yours all at once."

XAVIER

Xavier loved the banter. Fletcher never had a problem keeping up and conversations were always easy even when they were teasing one another. "Okay, I really fucking love it." He smiled at the kiss against his temple, sighing contently. Even amid heavier topics, Xavier and Fletcher found ways to support each other and still find some levity. He nodded in agreement to Fletcher's response. "You're right. There was plenty of that growing up. Sorry that you had to deal with it too." Xavier listened intently, a smile forming on his lips, the warmth rising in his cheeks. If he smiled any harder, his cheeks would begin to hurt. "You're complimentary today." He grinned once more. "Ohhh I like that. The baddie and the Zaddy." Xavier knew he had struck gold with Fletcher and he'd make sure his boyfriend was reminded of that as often as possible.

"Only a little?" Xavier closed his eyes, returning the kiss as a part of him wondered if there was anywhere they could run off to but thankfully the hotel wasn't too far away. "Room service is always a thing..." He bit the inside of his cheek and then the corner of his lips as he tried to focus. By now, Fletcher knew exactly where his weakest spots were and he was hitting some of them now. "Mm hmm. Desperate." He barely got the words out secretly wishing there was no elevator operator. "There are better things you can do for hours." He chuckled, grabbing his boyfriend's hand and pulling him toward the elevator to leave for the hotel.

[adam-brooks]

The Trip.

and the party started.

we pulled along with the wood hinges, instant rumble and break infusing mindbodysoul with mindbodysoul juice. she let go, trails of dusty water kept our fingertips together for years and yards. they pranced through the wires connective tissue and the heartbeats came into mine, condom less. pulled and pushed, my body is my temple, my mind is my god, my soul is nothing without metal tacks and acrobatic extremes yielding big and shiny memories. I am. Me is. mirror.

with the scientific name melting into blood and nerve, i came, i saw, i conquered something indescribable. another infinite dance, this time so damn finite that my reflection was all and every. leaning into my eyes and the glass, i saw, i was (reversed saw was was saw) blue eyed brown eyed green eyed red eyed sulfur breath, thin lipped thick lipped, fanged molar black white brown, i was. i saw. I am.

(an eternity underneath the clown makeup lampshades staring back into myself. vanity takes a backseat to surrealism when young men engulf things that no true believer would ever put faith in.)

madness turned to beauty. flaws fucked heroes and bred the dj in the corner mixing strictly 1990-1995 hardcore hip hop with strictly vinyl fresh German industrial. rolled r's completely different than my tongue. Nazi clipped beats layered upon holla nigga holla…

layered upon my flesh of my flesh, still so strangely transparent. i watched as my blood flow pulsed and wondered why the dancers had faces of porcelain and blood tears. (not a bad trip, as the pulse would dictate, but something else entirely. i was not scared or diseased, i was merely a player in some skewed circus freak show that mutated with each passing hiccup and beat switch. to rave on E would be child's play. i am no longer a child.)

beauty turns to madness as she wraps her lips around my hips and pulls me into her and we fall into a couch and she rests her head on my sweatthick neckline and i keep my head straight up and down to not fuck with reality any more than i already have. can you watch tv on your side? could i breathe with the ceiling a wall and the arms and feet defying newtoneinsteingodherself. no no no no no.

and in the next breath, i was flying. every speech impediment and click of tongue was light, every eyeball was blue streaked and twisting towards me. OMSI times three trillion. a laser light show with colors i never knew existed and no motion sickness. i did not move but found myself in the kitchen with a tweaker handing me "water" and a thug batting it down and clapping my shoulder softly. words ran into straight meaning. like reading thought vs writing matter.

you.seem.to.be.handling.it.well.you.seem.sober.to.them.but.i.told.you.i.would.keep.you.safe.you.feel.safe.right.she.feels.safe.right.you.treat.her.well.tonight.if.you.ever.find.her.again.she.is.watching.her.so.dont.let.it.change.the.trip.we.love.you.and.you.are.safe.just.dont.drink.his.water.he.is.off.tonight.go.have.fun.i.have.some.friends.to.show.around.we.love.you.

( like synapse on synapse sex. A Waking Life, maybe? Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, maybe? or as the producer/director of The Trip said, after having tried it himself, "this will always be impossible to replicate. we do what we can.")

we do what we can. time was nothing to my young body but they said that 13 hours later, as i ate scrambled eggs and intensely discussed with her, like reliving a dream, the lifetime we spent together, flying, that i held myself up better than they expected. they said, as she remembered (she felt the same things? no...but yes. not yes but not no) the liquid stew we became, that a person who is more intelligent and stuck in the clouds, the crazier it becomes.

the deadlier it becomes. not one breath spent with vapors of chemical Leary was spent with the scythe in mind. taming the west.

but the punch line to all too much of my stories...it was all so smooth.

All so smooth.

[midsummereve1993]

First time on stage

@youlightmeupfinn @la-undercover-latina @ali-r3n @valeriiecameron @sutton2001

A/n please let me know how my stories are because I sure love to know.

Warnings take of sluts but nothing else.

August 9 2008 6:00 am

zamira woke to the sound of her son fussing and got up quietly as to not wake her boy and and uncle’s band, her uncle Nikki band bus had broken down and since Douglas and her had the biggest bus she allowed them to stay with them as they travel to the next town and knew they wouldn’t want to be woken up to the sound of a baby fussing, as she got dressed she heard her son stop crying and rushed out only to see mick and his girlfriend who had her son in her arms soothing him,

“sorry guys I was trying to hurry up so he wouldn’t wake y’all she said coming over to grab her son and sit on the opposite side of the couch and put a cover as she fed Hendrix as she looked back at mick and his girlfriend, “how is motherhood treating you mick said to the women across from him and saw her face go into a smile. “Perfect and I am happy that he’s finally here.

Since meting her last year zamira has always brought a smile to his face because she always made sure he was treated right and taken care of when they were on tour and they grew close, she once told him he reminded her of a grandpa and would always call him grandpa when ever she saw him and his girlfriend had told them when they started dateing zamira made sure his girl felt welcome among people who would talk about her because she was way younger then mick.

“seems like the party move up front Douglas said from the doorway laughing when his girlfriend give him a finger, “very funny Doug but just remember I can make you get up at two in the morning with me when Hendrix wake up zamira said looking to her boyfriend and laughing because the table were turned on him. “Do I need to talk some sense into him rose because I will mick said looking to the guy who fathered the baby across from him and saw him shake his head.

“no sir not at all, “I already had her dad on my butt and I certainly don’t need anybody else on my back Doug said laughing as he sit down next to his girlfriend and leant down to give his son a kiss on the forehead after he got done eating. “Good because we want her to be treated right and not just as a baby maker mick said looking to Douglas with a evil eye. “Trust me mick I feel the same way and I promise you that she will be treated with care and they both will be cared for Doug said as he saw his girlfriend had fallen asleep with there son on her chest.

August 9 2008 12:00 pm

Dj come onto the bus and saw his daughter asleep with his grandson in the bassinet next to her and couldn’t help but smile, since his grandson was born two days ago his daughter has adjusted well to motherhood and Doug has be ever so sweet through the entire pregnancy and delivery, “baby girl time to wake up I want to go out to eat your uncles and motley but we want you to come. “Mmmmm ok dad let me get dressed will you watch him she said getting off the couch and headed towards the back. Dj hears fussing and turns to see his grandson face ball up into a frown and whimpers leavening his mouth.

“Come here buddy dj said picking Hendrix up and siting on the couch snuggling him to his chest in hopes to sooth his grandson, “I know buddy mommy will be back soon he says and leans down to place a kiss on his grandson’s head. “Ok dad let’s go zamira says comming out if the back room and grabbing her son as they head to the restaurant. Upon entering the restaurant she saw Nikki and James plus Nikki band and couldn’t help but smile, “dad I need to change Hendrix diaper so you mind letting them. I’ll only be a minute she says going into the women bathroom and changing her son.

“can you believe dj daughter is a teen mom, “ugh what a slut for having a baby at a young age and trapping that poor boy my gosh what is she doing zamira heard from the bathroom stall and tried o ignore it because she knew she would get talk about and she vow never to let it bother her. “I mean if I was her father I would be ashamed of her, “yeah me too messing ion the family name is horrible and makes me wish that she was dead.

zamira couldn’t help but let out a whimper as she grabbed her son and rushed out the bathroom and to her father, dj saw his daughter rushing out and placed Hendrix with him and rushed out the door making everybody look confused. “Nikki hold Hendrix while I go talk to her, “no let me go she may need a women to talk to seraina said getting out out of the chair and headed for the door to speak to the young girl.

comming out of the restaurant she saw her siting on a bench crying and walked up and sit down beside her, “is everything ok honey you know you can tell me she said hoping the young girl can open up to her. When she heard zamira didn’t have a mother she decided she would do all she could to help her no what and she saw the young girl turned her eyes to her. “

"Can I ask you something, "of course honey anything. "Am I a slut for having a baby as a teenager zamira said looking at seraina and felt more tears come to her eyes. "Of course not honey where is this comming from seraina said looking to the young girl who she admired for being strong and pushing through motherhood like a champion and couldn't figured out where this was comming from.

"When I was in the bathroom i overheard a couple if girls talking about how I was a slut and how I trash my last name because I become a teenage mom so I got to thinking maybe I really am a slut zamira said looking to the women she come to look at as a older sister, "you listen to me. "Your not a slut because that is when someone sleeps with a lot of people and you didn't do that, "farther more you definitely didn't trash your last name because even through hendrix waste planed I can see how much your dad enjoys being a grandpa.

"But I don't want to ruine dad career because he has a teenage daughter, "zamira listen to me that Don't matter to your dad at all honey but what does matters is how healthy you and hendrix are so please Don't listen to those girls because they Don't understand anything seraina said pulling the Young girl into her arms for a hug rubbing her back to try and calm her down.

After a few minutes both women went back inside the restaurant and sit down to eat like nothing had happen. Later that night dj had a heart to heart talk with his fans about the rumors regarding his daughter while she was out of ear shot. As soon as zamira made her way back to the stage dj made the announcement. "So as yall all know two days ago my beautiful daughter and her boyfriend welcome there first child into the world who is the cutest baby in the world you will ever see.

"Give me one minute dj said walking off set and grabbing his grandson in his arms bringing him to the stage, "say hello to Mt new grandson hendrix wilder booth dj said kissing his grandson as he slept unwell of the millions of fans looking at him. "I am lucky to have him and glad that I can call him my grandson, after. Afew dj walked back off stage and handed his grandson off to his daughter and headed back out on stage to finished the show.

After the show was finished dj walked onto the bus and saw his daughter fast asleep while his grandson laid In the basset next to her and couldn't help but smile, watching his daughter with his grandson was something he loved and was so thinkful everything went OK with the delivery and that they both were healthy and happy. "They knocked out as soon as they got on the bus Douglas said comming out the back with his night clothes on, "I know mick told me she went back to the bus to lay down. "Yeah hendrix has be keeping her uo non stop but she hasn't say anything about it which blows Me away.

"Yeah women are super hero's for sure dj said bending down to kiss his daughter's forehead and then his grandson's head and headed back to the back to get dressed and headed to bed but with the thought she would treat his daughter to her favorite meal as he drifted off to sleep.

[griffinavocado]

wouldn’t it be funny if the charters moved in with you after their boss fight. Imagine living in a mansion the size of a museum and then you move into literally the fucking sewers

[astroluvr]

can you do a fic with famous y/n and jack getting spotted at a drake concert and they’re singing a song that they consider “their song” and he’s whispering in her hear cute things, and it’s posted on social media by fans or paparazzi? something super fluffy!

also for song reference maybe shut it down by drake? it’s my favorite song by him & the first song that came to mind when i thought of this ask ahaha, i love your page thank you!! :)

thank you sm, i hope u enioy!!

***

You’d been nursing the same cold glass since you arrived at the club. You and Jack got invited out and decided against spending another Saturday night in on the couch, despite the appeal of not worrying about anyone catching you two out. You’d been swaying around a high table with a few friends while Jack was leaned over you on the balcony. When you looked up again, expecting to find him laughing with someone up top, you instead saw him talking to a DJ. You assumed he’d given him a flash drive with an unreleased song on it, but you were pleasantly surprised when he came jogging down the steps in his black cargo pants and a tight white shirt.

You met him by the stairs by another empty table and looked back up at the DJ who had his eyes on the keyboard as another song neared the end. “Hey, baby. Did you give him one of your songs?”

“I gave him our song.” Jack said while kissing on your neck, smiling when the song ended.

“Not that one, Jack!” you exclaimed, pulling back and searching for eye contact.

“No, not that one.” he laughed, catching the reference to a song he made in the studio with you one day that you refused to allow him to release. The terror of having your family hearing the crude lyrics was enough to give you a heart attack. “Our song.”

“Wha-” the question you were about to ask was answered immediately interrupted by the opening beat of a Drake song. “Oh, my God.”

“These girls ain’t got nothing on you.” Jack began and you shook your head, trying to escape him before he started embarrassing you.

Jack, however, did not give you the mercy. He took the drink from your hand and finished it off in one swig, setting it down on the table and using both hands to hold your hips.

“It’s obvious you’re pretty,” he sang, kissing from your temple down to your neck and holding you close to his chest. “Heard that you’re a student working weekends in the city.”

It took you the rest of the verse to finally loosen up and move your hands from your side up to his upper back. You swayed along with Jack and pretended that you weren’t feeling like the only girl in the world. The two of you caught everyone’s attention, the song changing the entire vibe of the environment.

Instead of letting your heated cheeks take away from the moment, you listened to the low timbre of Jack’s voice singing the song to you. Drake’s voice accompanied him in the vocals, but he- as always, made it his own.

“You know you’re the baddest around, round, round. And they notice, they notice.” you giggled when he followed your gaze to the people watching. “These girls ain’t got nothing on you, they ain’t got nothing on you.”

He pulled back to sing the next few lines, but kept a hand on your hip as he rocked to the song. He knew you’d feel awkward if he wasn’t there to share in the moment. You smiled and danced along, rocking your hips slightly and playfully grabbing his hand when it slipped down to squeeze your butt.

“Damn, it’s like that?” he grunted, pulling you back into him to hear your laugh in response.

“I’m not that easy.” you muttered, dancing with him slowly and earning a skeptical look from your boyfriend.

“Debatable.” he argued and you quirked an eyebrow.

“Not as easy as you.” you countered and Jack bursted out in laughter. “Why do I feel like I found the one? What's in these shots that you ordered us? Damn, I mean you sure know how to paint a town. Ever since you came around, it's obvious.” you continued the song and Jack smiled down at you.

“You’re so fine, baby.” he bent to kiss your glossed lips and you smiled when he pulled back and revealed the shimmer on his plump lips. When he pursed them to taste the fruity drink you had, he grimaced at the sticky substance that was transferred. “Oh, my-”

“You looking good girl, go, go, go get 'em girl. Go, go, go hit 'em girl, go, go, go, go, go, go.” you teased, picking his hand up and walking to the front of his body before pulling it around your chest and dancing.

Jack got over it quickly and rested his chin on the top of your head, making sure your butt was cradled in his hips. He splayed his other hand over your stomach and held your hand over your chest. “We were made for each other, babe.”

“Mmhmm.” you hummed, squeezing his hand tight and smiling. “I couldn’t think of anyone better than you, J.”

He went quiet and shut his eyes for a moment, happily pretending that nobody was watching or recording when they realized just who was in front of them. “You still the baddest girl around, 'round, 'round. And they'd notice, they'd notice. You would shut it down.”

---

jharlowupdates

jharlowupdates Jack and his girlfriend, Y/N L/N- a Fenty ambassador and make-up artist, were spotted out clubbing last night!

jackharlover OMG I LOVE THEM 😫😫😫

y/nsflowers my parents.

user5367 my friend was there last night and they were dancing to shut it down by drake!!

y/nandjackcentral i want what they have.

***

@whoreforharlow

[jennamacaroni]

prompt list, angst #1: “I love you!  Is that what you wanted to hear?”

(this is for an anon and @soulofacircus who both requested this #)

The Kansas City crowd is brutal.  Deborah’s set is full of awkward silences and forced laughter from those simply not equipped to handle so much secondhand embarrassment.  The bit about DJ’s third overdose that Ava helped Deborah rework late after last night’s show in St. Louis bombs so hard that a boomer couple gets up from the front row and walks out without paying their bill.  This unfortunate series of events then does what Deborah said weeks ago back in Las Vegas that no one could ever do:  they mess her up.  At one point towards the end of the set, Deborah actually freezes up there for a few seconds, going somewhere else entirely.  Ava watches her eyes lose focus somewhere in the middle distance, and Ava’s only thought is that she wishes Deborah would look at her instead. Deborah ends up closing the set and walking offstage to polite applause without even bothering with her final three jokes.

The green room is nothing but a worn orange velour couch, the floor length mirror Deborah made Ava lug in from the tour bus earlier that evening, and a minifridge full of Pepsi Zero.  Deborah already has her purse slung over her shoulder and refuses to make eye contact. “Listen, that was–” “Let’s just get to the bus,” Deborah interrupts, her voice tight but authoritative.  “I need to get the fuck out of here and put this middle America’s asshole of a city and it’s cretins behind me.” Ava grabs the mirror without further comment, tucking it under her arm and following Deborah out the back door.

Weed has them on the open highway in less than four minutes, every one of which Deborah spends mixing a round of martinis.  It was just the four of them again with the driver, now that Damien had flown back to Vegas to prepare for their upcoming trip back next week: it was Luna’s birthday and Deborah insisted they couldn’t possibly miss it. Ava decides for once not to push and to give Deborah a few minutes of space, kicking off her boots and slipping into the tiny bathroom to change into sweatpants. She finds Deborah at the table looking down at her hands, which are folded delicately around the base of her martini glass.  Ava slips onto the bench on the opposite side of the table where there’s another martini waiting, glass frosted and dressed with a single speared green olive. Ava takes a sip of the cocktail and waits for Deborah to make the first move, content to study the delicate lines of Deborah’s face while she’s not looking, the ones the Botox touch-ups just don’t quite fill that are worn into her skin from a lifetime of laughter. “This is exhausting,” Deborah says, finally looking up fully at Ava.  She maintains eye contact as she lifts the martini glass to her still painted lips and takes a long swallow, and all Ava can think is how quickly she can make Deborah laugh again. “Aren’t you tired of this?”  Deborah asks, before Ava can make a really corny joke about Kansas City having a regional barbeque inferiority complex. “Of showers on this tour bus?  Uh, yeah, dude.  You never leave me any hot water.” The left corner of Deborah’s lips twitch with the tiniest wry smile and Ava counts that in the win column. “Of giving me pep talks.  You can save it tonight, by the way,” Deborah adds before Ava can even try, lifting her glass and taking another long drag. “Okay.  But I’m not going to stop believing in you.  I can’t turn it off either.  And nothing matters more.  Even if it should.” It’s hit home, Ava can tell.  Deborah breaks eye contact, the moment too intimate, and steels her face to cry without moving her eyebrows. “You should just quit once we get on the gay cruise and live as you were meant to amongst your own kind.  Wild horses, and all that.” “I don’t know what that means.  But speaking of horses, we still need to watch ‘Desert Hearts.’” “Ava–” “D, you promised!” Deborah takes the olive from her drink into her mouth and throws the toothpick at Ava, hitting her in the forehead.  “Can you be serious for once?” “Definitely not.” “Why are you still doing this?” Ava doesn’t even bother to answer at first, just looks knowingly at Deborah and takes a drink.  It’s a look in which she knows hides absolutely none of the very real love she now holds for her boss.  “You know why.” “Well it can’t possibly because you love sleeping over a tanning bed.” “It’s Weed’s weed.  I get it now, Pete Wentz.” “You’re impossible.  You know that?  Answer my question:  why are you still here?  You’re certainly not helping me tell any fucking funny jokes.  If I wanted a useless Zillennial or whatever the fuck you’re calling yourself this moon cycle, I would’ve–” “I’m going to stop you right there,” Ava interrupts, because Deborah’s starting to get mean now and Ava’s just not feeling up to being the punching bag.  Not tonight.  “I’m fucking tired of this.” “Yeah, well, me too.” “No, not this,” Ava says, voice rising as she gestures generally around the bus.  “I’m tired of this,” she says, instead pointing back and forth between them.  “Of you picking fights when I try to be real with you.  Of you still running, when I thought we were done with that.” Since Deborah can’t insult her, she simply purses her lips and says nothing at all.  Ava thinks, fuck it.  She chugs the rest of her martini and holy shit that’s a lot of vodka, then smacks the glass down as hard as she possibly can without shattering it. “It’s because I love you.  Is that what you wanted to hear?  I am in love with you and I believe in you and I think you’re the funniest fucking woman this world has ever seen, sorry, Lucille.  And I know you’re going to call me a moron and say it’s a silly crush or whatever other watered down bullshit that you tell yourself to hide yourself away, but I see you, Deborah.  You can keep me at arms length or push me away with both hands and that’s okay, if that’s what you really want.” Ava pauses, chewing at the inside of her cheek and staring across the cramped table at Deborah.  When she still says nothing, Ava gives up, sliding out from  the booth.  As she moves to pass by Deborah on the way towards her bunk at the back of the bus, she pauses and leans into Deborah’s space, her lips just a breath from the shell of Deborah’s ear.  “But for the record, I don’t think that’s what you really want.” Deborah pulls in a sharp breath and for once, Ava has the last word.

[cobrakaisb]

5 times robby fell in love with you + 1 time he actually said it

requested: no

a/n: hey besties it’s been a hot minute! i promise that part two of modern day romeo and juliet is in the works but here is a little robby imagine because i have been in my robby feels lately. :)

summary: read the title besties :) you and robby are already dating in this imagine. 

word count: 1832

one: wheel training

“i don’t know about this mr. larusso,” you mumble as you take your sweatshirt off to climb into the pond. robby was already in there, shivering from the coolness of the water. “you’ll be fine y/n,” mr. larusso says encouragingly. you nod, slowly entering the shallow pond with robby’s help. together the two of you approach the wheel in the middle, each of you on your respective sides. “okay now climb on,” mr. larusso instructs, and you look nervously at robby, who just nods. together the two of you climb onto the wheel.

after countless tries and many failed attempts the two of you were able to perform the technique semi-decently. “we did it!” you shout as you come up from the water. robby and mr. larusso laugh at your excitement. you splash some water up in the air, laughing as the droplets hit your skin on the way down. robby looks at you adoringly, a smile on his face. “alright you two, that’s enough for today. i’ll see you tomorrow,” mr. larusso says, smiling at the two of you as he walks towards the house. 

once he’s inside the house, robby wades through the water to you. “we did it robby!” you cheer, throwing your arms around his shoulders, a proud smile on your face. “yes we did baby,” he answers, resting his forehead against yours. “just imagine us doing that in a fight! we’d be unstoppable!” you exclaim and robby just nods his head. he wasn’t really paying attention to what you were saying, instead he was thinking about how happy you made him and how contagious your smile was.    

two: during the mall fight

“get behind me,” you instruct demetri, pushing the tall boy behind you, while sam took care of the others. “back off,” sam tells hawk, and you nod your head, getting into your fighting stance. hawk scoffs at the three of you. “i don’t want to have to hit a girl,” he says, looking between you and sam. now it was your turn to scoff. “funny how you think you’d even stand a chance against us,” you say confidently. now robby was beside you, the three of you covering demetri.

“five against four. more like three and a half,” hawk remarks, nodding towards his friends, signaling the start of the fight. you were fighting off two boys in the back while robby was fighting off two of them in the front. sam was taking care of some boy towards the middle of the group, while demetri just stood in the center, not fighting anyone. slowly, one by one, you and your friends had taken down the cobra kais, well all of them except for hawk. 

you look over your shoulder to see hawk charging towards you robby, who was cornered up against a table. you knew that robby could handle himself, but a wave of protectiveness washed over you. the next thing you know, hawk was lying on the floor of the food court while you stood in front of robby. everyone ohed at the sight of hawk lying on the ground, but you didn’t pay them any mind. you turn to face robby, grabbing his face in your hands. “are you alright?” you ask, looking over him worriedly. robby chuckled at you, pulling you into a tight hug. “i’m fine baby, thank you,” he answers with nothing but admiration in his voice as he kisses your forehead.  

three: he catches you singing

robby jogs up the stairs to your room. today the two of you were taking a break from karate and planning on watching a movie together. robby knocks on the door, but there was no answer. he cracks the door open and sees you jumping around your room. you were wearing one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, your hair brush in your hand, as you belted out the lyrics to teenage dirtbag. “oh yeah! dirtbag!” you sing along with zayn malik. robby smiles as he watches you sing and dance around the room. 

now you were standing in front of your mirror, pointing to yourself as you sang, completely engrossed in the song. at one point you tilt your head back, really getting into it. robby continues to watch you sing the song, a loving smile on his face the entire time. he only makes himself known when he claps his hands once the song ends. you freeze, turning towards the door where your boyfriend is clapping. a blush immediately coats your cheeks, as you throw your hairbrush on your bed. 

“i didn’t take you as a singer y/n,” robby points out, stepping into your room. your blush turns an even deeper shade of red as you look away from his hazel eyes. robby closes the distance between the two of you, placing a loving kiss on your lips. “i thought it was cute,” robby confesses once you seperate. “especially since you’re wearing my shirt,” he continues, a giggle escaping your mouth. “stop being cheesy,” you say, pushing him away from you. “but you love it,” he remarks, sitting down on your bed. you roll your eyes, “i guess.”    

four: your date at the roller rink

it was 80s night at the roller rink, and you and robby were long overdue for a date night. you and robby decided to go as people from the outsiders. robby as a soc and you as a greaser. “an enemies to lovers typa beat,” you explain, fixing his jacket. robby just nods along, too busy admiring you in your ripped jeans and leather jacket. 

“i’ll go get the skates. wait here,” robby says, kissing your cheek as he walks towards the rental counter. shortly after, robby comes back with two pairs of skates. “thanks robby,” you say, placing a chaste kiss on his lips as he sits down on the bench next to you. “okay ready?” robby asks, and you nod, grabbing his hand as the two of you head over to the roller rink. 

together you skate leisurely around the rink. laughing and singing along to the 80s songs that the dj is playing. while the two of you are skating hand in hand when the song i would die 4 u by prince comes on. “oh my gosh! i love this song!” you cheer, excitement all over your face. robby chuckled at your words, “i know. i may have put in a request with the dj.” you smile so big when robby said that. “you’re the best robby,” you say, and robby could tell that your words were genuine. robby just smiled at you, listening to you sing along with prince.       

five: midnight baking session

you couldn’t sleep. it was 12:00 at night, and you could not fall asleep. robby on the other hand, was fast asleep. well you thought he was fast asleep when you left your room to go to the kitchen. it turns out that robby wasn’t asleep because he was now standing in the kitchen, watching as you grabbed different ingredients. “what are you doing y/n? it’s twelve am,” robby asks, a tired yawn escaping him. “i couldn’t sleep so i decided to make some brownies. want to help?” you ask him, and you're practically begging him with your eyes to say yes. “why not,” robby mumbles, joining you. 

“yes! okay so can you go get the medium saucepan? it’s in that cabinet over there,” you instruct, pointing towards the cabinet. robby nods tiredly and gets you the pan, wrapping his arms around your waist once he brings it to you. “tired?” you ask him, measuring out the flour. “just a bit,” robby replies, resting his head on your shoulder, kissing your neck. you giggle, moving your head away from him. “stop that tickles,” you say, looking at the snoop dogg cookbook. 

about forty minutes later, you and robby are sitting on the couch watching friends and eating brownie sundaes. “these brownies are so good,” robby says, basically moaning at the taste. “yeah babe? do you like them?” you ask, cuddled up to his side. robby nods vigorously. “they are so good. you better make these more often,” he says, looking at you. “i will,” you promise and robby nods gratefully. the two of you continue to watch the show and eat your ice cream.

“hey i’m done. do you want me to put your bowl in the sink?” robby asks, sitting up from his spot on the couch. “yes please,” you respond, handing him the empty bowl. robby takes it from you, but not before placing a kiss on your cheek. “what was that for?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “you had some chocolate there, and maybe i just wanted to kiss you,” robby replies and a huge smile encompasses your face. 

it was now three am and george lopez was playing. you were asleep on robby’s chest, while he was watching the show. “i love you robby,” you mumble tiredly, cuddling into his chest more. robby tenses at your words, but he smiles and places a kiss on your forehead, quietly repeating the phrase back to you.    

one: when you visit him in jail

you sat down at the table, waiting for robby to come out. you were fidgeting with the tupperware of brownies you brought for him. even though you had come to visit robby multiple times, you always got nervous waiting for him. the door opened and teenage boys were walking into the room. your eyes immediately searching for robby. he saw you right away, and walked over to your table.

“hi robby,” you say quietly once he sits down. robby gives you a small smile, “hi baby.” it was quiet for a minute, but you quickly broke the silence by shoving the tupperware container towards him. “i made you brownies. the snoop dogg ones because they’re your favorite,” you explain and robby smiles widely at you, grabbing your hand that was resting on the table. 

“thanks. i’ll eat them as soon as i can,” he says truthfully. “are you okay? they haven’t been bugging you have they?” you ask him quietly, looking over his face for any bruises or cuts. robby chuckles at how worried you are. “i’m fine y/n, i promise. you don’t need to worry about me,” robby says and you roll your eyes at him. “i worry because i care and because i love you,” you answer, casually slipping that three word phrase in there. robby sits there in shock for a minute before an even bigger smile takes over his face. “i love you too y/n,” he says, squeezing your hand. a smile as big as robby’s takes over your face too. 

“so what’s been going on?” robby asks and you immediately jump into a ramble about the newest book that you’ve been reading. meanwhile, robby just smiles, proud of himself for finally telling you how he feels. 

taglist: @iwantahockeyhimbo @estupidteen​ @funprincess101​ @mrfeenyisswag   

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Objections: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you go to a wedding as the maid of honor for your best friend, so you have to keep things proper. But there's always room to have a little fun, right? (a piece for the Gangland Collab hosted by @semisgroupie)

wc: 2.5k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Flustered.

That's one way to describe how you're feeling while everyone is running around and making demands. You're barely dressed when the bride - and your best friend - comes into your shared hotel room with a red face.

"Y/n, my shoes won't buckle!"

You stoop to help Mizuki silently, hoping she would calm down after your assistance. But then she begins to complain bout how awful the wedding rehearsal had gone the night before, where only two out of the four groomsmen had shown up. The best man had even sat the rehearsal dinner out, claiming to have a wicked hangover—a likely story.

"There," you state, standing up and pulling your blush-colored dress straps over your shoulders.

"Thanks, y/n. Don't know what I'd do without you."

And you carry Mizuki's flowers as she rushes across the courtyard to the church, her hands full of tulle skirt. And you adjust her veil when it slips off her hair a little. All the things her mother would have been there to do, you're there for instead. Because that's just who you are.

The groom and the groomsmen have already descended the aisle, and you hand Mizuki her flowers as her father approaches her in the church's lobby. His tattoos are covered by the long-sleeved suit and buttoned-up shirt, but you know Mr. Magahara would show his tattoos if he could.

"You're the best maid of honor," he mentions, and you smile, giving him a wink.

"Wouldn't give this up for the world."

As you walk down the aisle alone, you smile at all of the family members present on Mizuki's side, knowing each and every one of them by name and function. You take your place across from the groomsmen standing behind the groom and eye the best man - a tall, black-haired fellow - with curiosity. His black eyes flick to you for a moment, linger on your appearance in the blush silk, and then turn away just as quickly as if you no longer existed. But Mizuki is coming down the aisle, and you turn toward her, placing your best "I Want to Be Here" smile on your face.

The wedding vows and ceremony passes in a blur, and before you know it - she and her white-haired groom are wedded. As they leave, you walk back up the aisle beside the best man, secretly wondering why he couldn't just suck it up the night before, but you keep your thoughts to yourself as you wait for the golf carts purchased to take you all to the reception.

"Y/n, you and Geto will get in the next one," Mizuki claims and zips off, facing the crowd while her dress flies around her and Gojo. You turn to the man as he sits in the driver's seat of the white golf cart, and he pats the seat next to him. His cuffs roll up just a bit to reveal a red and black tattoo outline when he does so. You look back up at his face, and Geto raises a brow - noticing you noticing his tattoo.

"I don't bite..." he offers, shrugging. Other people are going past you and the stationary cart as you assess the Yakuza member, but after what feels like forever, you decide to get into the cart, and he starts it up before taking off at a crawl. "Often." Before you can respond, he floors the pedal down on the golf cart, and you scream, holding onto the side rails for dear life.

It would be just your luck. You're stuck in a golf cart with a bona fide crazy man who is in the Yakuza.

When he finally pulls up a the barn, you step off the cart, dizzy, but you feel no more inclined to throw up than you did before. However, Geto gets out of the vehicle and loops your arm through his, guiding you towards the repurposed barn like a gentleman.

"Wasn't so bad, was it? Maybe four-and-a-half stars out of five?"

"Out of ten," you mutter, earning you a hearty laugh.

_____________________________________________________________

You're six toasts in and a little unsteady on your feet when Geto turns to you, watching you eat the cupcake offered to you moments before. He places his hand on his chin, examining you in the dim lighting of the venue like he did at the church.

"What?" you wonder, mouth full of icing and cake.

"Just watching you eat that cupcake. Maybe I should've gotten one, yeah?"

"Yeah," you muse, sucking some icing off of your index finger. "They're fucking amazing."

"I bet..." You think you hear him groan in his throat, but you can't be sure, so your attention goes back to the people on the dance floor, and you thumb over to the crowd.

"You don't like dancing?"

"Eh," Geto shrugs, watching the groom sway to the slow song with his bride. "No one's ever asked me to dance with them before." You stand from your chair and offer Geto your hand, praying he wouldn't embarrass you by not taking it.

"Well, Mr. Geto, may I have this dance?"

The man looks at your hand, then back up at your face, as if you were joking. But you continue to stand there, palm up, until he finally takes it, leading you to the dance floor. He pulls you into a traditional slow dance hold - one hand against your waist, the other holding your hand out - and you look up at him, laughing.

"You can dance!"

"Never said I couldn't," he chuckles, smiling down at you. "Just said I hadn't." After a few moments of this, the song changes to something fast and exciting - definitely a song that makes you want to shake your ass a little. At first, the mafia member is caught off-guard by the song, but he dances along with you, mouthing the words to the song.

"You acted like you've never been to a party before," you mention, and he shakes his head, his banging flopping back and forth.

"Always rolled up in the back and watched the festivities."

Your entire perception begins to shift, and for some reason, your cheeks heat up under his gaze. It's the alcohol, you consider. It has to be.

But as you move closer to him and Geto takes your hips in his hands, you know you won't be able to escape this evening unscathed. The DJ changes the song to a sultry and seductive song, and you follow the beat, rolling your body under the firm grip of the hands on your body. Your fingers creep up Geto's suit and rest on his chest, eyes following and resting on his face. He leans down and exhales in your ear, and you tilt your head back, hair tickling the back of your neck.

"Fuck..." he breathes, and you stifle a moan when his hands creep up to the top of the back of your dress. "Y/n, I don't know if I can keep dancing with you like this... Makes me think about--"

"Don't," you whisper, feeling the need grow in your stomach. "Don't say it. We just met, and I can't... I shouldn't..."

"I'm renting a hotel room tonight and heading back into town in the morning," he adds, ignoring your plea. "Maybe we could..." Geto leaves the ending open, and you close your eyes, hissing as he grips your ass.

"You're making a scene."

The sound of Mizuki behind you is enough to startle the both of you into sobriety. You look back, and Gojo and Mizuki raise their brows at the two of you simultaneously.

"If you're going to fuck each other, don't do it here. Go on," Gojo smirks, jerking his chin at you. "Get out of here."

Neither of you needs any more permission to take off and go back to the hotel.

"Get your things and meet me on floor ten."

You fumble with the keycard as you stumble into the hotel room you shared with Mizuki. Nothing but the thoughts of being under Geto fill your mind as you throw your things into a bag and rush up to the tenth floor.

Geto is standing in front of the elevators and scrolling on his phone, his black jacket slung over his shoulder and tattoos on full display from his forearms to his elbows. Shit.

He notices you immediately and holds his hand out for your bag, then walks you to a room at the end of the hall. The plush carpet beneath you makes you a little unsteady on your feet, but you keep your composure and step into the room behind him. He sets your bag on the couch in the room, sighing and placing his jacket over it before walking over to where you are, still standing at the now-closed door in anticipation. He tilts your chin up and smiles, leaning in for a kiss without speaking.

And you give him exactly what he wants, pressing your back against the door as Geto runs his hands over your body slowly, deliberately. "You've been driving me crazy all night long," he muses, pulling away from you and tapping your nose with his index finger. "But now I've got you right where I want you."

"Wait," you murmur, head hazy, already drunk on his essence. "I don't even know your first name."

"Suguru," he whispers against your lips. "But I go by Su."

And before you know it, you're moaning that name over and over again, his head between your legs and hands on your thighs. You can see all of his tattoos from his back to his hips, and for a moment, you're lost in the intricate patterns and swirls and animals. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and he moans when you tug slightly on it, pushing him into your cunt a little more.

"Please, Su..." you beg, and he answers your request by sucking on your clit and flicking his eyes up to watch your face change. "Oh my god." Your rock your hips against his face, and he hums loudly, bordering on a growl while his tongue flicks back and forth. "Ah!" Your orgasm arrives faster than you thought it would, catching you off-guard and making your back arch.

Suguru grabs your hips and repositions you so he's still eating you out as you cum. And when you're done, he pulls away slowly, licking his lips and peeling his pants off.

"That's a good girl," he mutters, pushing your legs up and grasping his hard length. "You ready for me?"

"Yes, please," you whine, and Suguru slides his cock up and down your pussy before slapping it with his cock head a few times.

"Wet as fuck," he groans, then slides into you, barely getting his cock past your entrance before easing up. "And tight as shit. Damn, Satoru owes me ten bucks."

You're about to ask what the hell that means, but he slides back into you, and the thought evaporates. "Oh, Su!" The man slides back out, then in, gaining a few inches each time. His hips meet yours with a slap of skin, a rhythm he maintains as your own personal initiation begins.

"Keep those hips still for me, kitten." You obey, moaning in time with his thrusts and watching his cock pump in and out of you with a milky, white ring of your cum forming at the base. "Look at that... You're creamin' all over my cock." All you can do is moan in response, feeling your body flush under his gaze. Lithe fingers dance around your collarbone before sliding back down to your breasts, toying with your nipples carefully.

"Can we..." You gasp as he leans down and swipes his tongue across your breast, the sound of your moans and groans cutting through the static in your head.

"What'd you say?"

"Can we--" Another gasp is pulled from you when Suguru tugs your right nipple with his teeth, delivering a shock of pain and pleasure.

"You keep stopping mid-sentence, kitten. Spit it out." All this time, he hasn't stopped thrusting into you, and you frown a little, trying to recall what you wanted to say.

"Su, can we please -- ah!" Suguru drives a hand toward your clit and rolls it between his fingers.

"Baby," he chastises, smirking playfully. "Didn't they teach you to finish your sentences in grade school?" You huff in response, and Suguru laughs, pulling his hand away and leaning over you. "No, really. What is it, y/n?"

"Can you fuck me from behind, please?" Suguru's brows raise, and you swallow hard, feeling him pull out slowly.

"Be my guest," he encourages you, and you flip over, scooting to the edge of the bed eagerly. Suguru slaps each ass cheek once before entering you again. "Go ahead," he murmurs, and you bounce back onto his cock, taking control. You look back at the Yakuza member and bite your bottom lip, feeling your climax build.

"Feels so fucking good, Su," you whisper, and his mouth parts at the way you look. "So damn sexy..."

He slides out of you almost instantly, pushing you onto the bed and mounting you from above. "Trying to make me cum, huh? I know your little tricks. I've got something for that." He doesn't sound displeased at all, just a little surprised, but his reaction no longer matters as he pounds into your little cunt as hard and fast as he can, pushing your hips into the bed over and over again. A hand crawls up to your neck, and Suguru latches his lips onto your earlobe, traveling lower while he fucks you so hard that the headboard begins to shake.

"The h-headboard," you cry out, but Suguru pays you no mind, keeping you in place while he thrusts into your abused cunt until you tip over the edge, choking out a sound between a wail and grunt.

"Good girl," he whispers in your ear as your hand scramble to find purchase among the silken sheets and pointless pillows. "Cum for me... just like that." A ragged inhale triggers his climax, but you're still riding your high as he rocks into your cunt, filling you with his cum. You both lay on the bed, recovering with deep inhales and exhales, and a soft moan or two.

"Shit," you breathe.

"That was fucking amazing." Suguru stays inside of you but pulls you onto your side so he's spooning your body carefully.

"You're in the Yakuza," you whisper. "Does this mean I can never tell anyone about what we did?" Suguru laughs loudly, shaking your body as he holds you.

"Everyone watched you and I leave, I don't think there's any confusion about what we're doing. And even if they didn't Gojo will tell them for sure." You groan, but Suguru pulls you in closer. "Don't worry, y/n. I won't let them embarrass you. I'll make sure to let them see you with me on dates, too."

[moefongo]

Christmas eve headcanons for all the villains + Robbie and Midna

I didn't do one for Thanksgiving so I'll leave it for next year so have a Christmas one, enjoy the ride, cowabunga thanks for coming to my TED talk

On a side note I'm gonna be self indulgent in this since I am not familiar with most American Christmas traditions outside of the egg nog and the mistletoe so instead have a puertorrican editon one lmao

Zant

Is banned from drinking coquito even if it does not have rum in it. He'd just guzzle it before everyone notices.

Actually wakes up early as fuck to get ready and dressed even if everyone else is arriving later in the evening.

Zant really loves helping out in the kitchen especially because everyone lets him have a taste of all the food and desserts.

The only thing he hates is the fireworks, it makes him cry but his S/O is always near him in case he needs their comfort.

Steals the baby jesus every year and for the sole reason of chaos.

Ghirahim

Wakes up at about 3pm complaining about being woken up so early, even if he's wrong.

Takes his sweet time getting ready and doesn't come out of his room almost before dinner time. Because Ghirahim has to look his best even if its just to sit on a couch the rest of the evening.

His S/O has to get ready before him every year because of that. And it has been more than once that they've argued about it, but Ghirahim doesn't give a shit he wants to outshine everyone.

Ganondorf

Doesn't eat any type of pork especially Lechon but doesn't get upset about everyone else eating it though.

He woke up at the crack of dawn to start cleaning up without his S/O knowing. He just lets them sleep in.

Gets the entire place looking immaculate, in fact it could put Martha Stewart to shame.

I mean not that he didn't decorate in mid November already but somehow made the whole place look amazing.

Dresses up as Santa Claus if he knows kids are coming over.

Volga

Is the one in charge of cooking the Lechon.

Aside from that he does nothing else for the whole day except getting ready and pestering gos S/O on when he's going to finally be able to eat.

In fact he might drag his S/O with him for a mid day nap and prevent them from getting ready too early according to him.

Finally when it's time to eat he's going to be the first in line. Usually eats the whole tray of sandwiches de mezcla after eating.

Wizzro

He's the one who brings the drinks, and surprisingly has acquired a substantial amount of alcohol for the party. Definitely not stolen though.

Also brings a karaoke machine for some reason.

Wizzro definitely spends the whole day preparing drinks for everybody despite him being visibly drunk.

He also takes occasional breaks to bust out his sick merengue dance moves. Which means he drags his S/O to dance with him.

Midna

She and her S/O come to the party late. Since they were probably lost on the way there.

Interestingly she has never hosted a Christmas party and never will.

She brings like a bag of chips just to not arrive empty handed. Which also weren't purchased on a gas station on the way to the party.

Aside from that she enjoys talking anyone's ear off and playing along with the kid's antics.

Astor

Was forced to wash his hair and to dress nicely and by that it means not his usual robes that probably haven't been washed in eons.

Complains on the way to the party, but he only agrees to it because he wants to make his S/O happy.

Once there he sits on the couch being all grumpy until the kids decide to ask him to play with them.

He has no choice so he ends up playing fortnite with the kids.

Ends up receiving snacks stolen by the kids and in their eyes he is now the cool uncle that plays fortnite.

Robbie

He is carrying the whole party with his fire mix tape. Jokes aside he took it upon himself to liven up the party.

Robbie will spend the whole evening being the dj while his S/O comes every so often and feeds him snacks to keep him going.

Kohga

Jokes on you he ate all of the guineos en escabeche. Not even Sooga got a chance to try them.

Kohga spends the evening playing dominoes with Sooga and anyone else who wants to join in.

If he gets drunk, Kohga will have a heated debate about if pasteles should or should not have ketchup.

He insists that pasteles go with ketchup so good luck.

Sooga

Sooga offers to help around for a while until he is dragged away to play dominoes with Kohga.

After playing with Kohga for a while he goes to talk to everyone for a bit and enjoying the evening.

Doesn't drink any alcohol at all, he is Kohga's designated driver.

[homoose]

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’  for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

[djdangerlove]

DJ! Prompts are exciting!! I like 1 (Eddie’s hands are shaking) 33 (sick!Eddie) and 38 (Eddie’s hands are always cold). ILY and whatever you do will be awesomeeeeee (just pick whichever one works for you!)

Thanks for the prompt Alice! 🖤 Sorry it took me a few days to get to but I hope you enjoy it.

50 Wordless Ways to Say I Love You : #33 Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold

Buck regrets putting away his sunglasses too soon as he squints against the orange glow of late afternoon blinding him through the windshield while pulling into Eddie’s driveway. He pulls down the overhead visor while shifting his jeep into park and killing the ignition. Blinking away the black spots floating across his vision, he looks over at his best friend asleep in the passenger seat and feels mischief persuade a grin across his face at the sight of Eddie’s head tilted awkwardly against the seat rest, thin line of drool glistening in the sunlight as it trails from the corner of his mouth down his chin.

Shuffling quietly for his phone, Buck decides not to feel even the slightest bit guilty for taking a picture of this considering Eddie has plenty of pictures of Buck doped up on pain meds after the ladder truck bombing. Not to mention the fact that he had shamelessly set one as Buck’s contact photo and sent a few others to their group chat. Buck takes the picture, but decides to keep it to himself. For now.

Collecting the pharmacy bag from the back, Buck hops out of the jeep and circles around to open Eddie’s door. He takes a moment to memorize the way amber rays of sunset fall across his best friend’s skin, highlighting faint little marks and scars telling a story in smooth, tanned skin. Eddie is beautiful in the raw sense of the word, effortless on the surface and artfully chiseled by the world beneath.

Buck reaches out with slightly calloused fingers brushing against a stubbled jawline, thumb tracing the curve of a fever colored cheek. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You’re home,” Buck says with a gentle tap of his fingers. Eddie shivers into wakefulness, smearing drool down Buck’s open palm that he doesn’t retract fast enough.

“I think,” the older man starts, but clears his throat when it comes out to close to a Kermit the Frog impersonation. “I think that doctor gave me a horse tranquilizer. Are we sure that's not what they gave me?"

He blinks up at Buck, one eye a fraction of a second behind the other and makes no move to get out of the jeep so Buck reaches across his lap and unbuckles his seatbelt all while explaining with an amused chuckle, “They gave you a steroid shot and in case no one has ever told you before, you’re dramatic when you have a sinus infection.”

More awake now, Eddie scowls at Buck while slowly sliding out of the car. “Yeah? Well, what’s your daily excuse then?”

Buck shuts the door and falls into a snail’s pace shuffle towards the front porch of the house beside his best friend. “You mean my other than my charming and excitable personality?”

The side of Eddie’s face struggles to choose between amusement or annoyance so it ripples adorably with both.

“I guess you could say that a childhood with emotionally neglectful parents-“

“Cut it out,” Eddie laughs, purposefully stumbling sideways to bump shoulders with Buck. “You’re not guilt tripping me into losing this…whatever this is.”

“I don’t have to,” Buck says, moving to unlock the door when they finally reach it. “You’re gonna fall asleep as soon as you lay down and probably forget this entire conversation.”

“I’m not going to forget that you’re a dramatic, but lovable dork or that your parents are assholes who should have loved you better,” Eddie replies while dropping haphazardly onto the couch, coughing into the dead silence that suddenly fills the living room.

Buck hovers between the back of the couch and the kitchen, unsure of what to say or how to say it so he drops the bag of supplies near Eddie’s hip and offers a quiet, “I’m going to go make some soup.”

“Buck-“

“You’re doing a lot of talking for someone who wanted me to buy four packs of throat lozenges,” Buck stops in the entry way of the kitchen to offer a reassuring grin at Eddie peeking up over the back of the couch, nervous, fever-bright eyes blinking back at him under rumpled hair across his forehead. “I think I remember how Pepa made her famous soup for Chris last time so just rest while I fix it for us, okay?”

Eddie rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, but nods all the same.

————

“I may have put too much cumin as in I tried to fish most of it out before the damage could set it, but with the way your nose is stuffed up it shouldn’t make a difference in taste for you,” Buck winces at him from across the table. “Please just don’t tell Pepa I messed up her recipe.”

Eddie tilts his head, ignoring the painful pressure in his face to enjoy the way Buck tenses worriedly. “I won’t if you delete that picture you took of me asleep in the car.”

“Wha-“ Buck starts around a slurp of soup and hurries to catch it with his napkin before it can drip onto his shirt. The liquid still manages to soak into the pink threads of his shirt and he blots at it while frowning. “How did you know about that? You were dead to the world!”

Eddie’s face oozes into a smile, relived that they can fall back into easy banter as if he hadn’t overstepped before. “I didn’t. Not for sure, but I figured you were looking for blackmail because of my infamous collection I have of you. A crime of opportunity.”

Buck scoffs and pulls out his phone to set the picture as his lock screen before turning it around to show Eddie. “Pepa adores me. I’m not worried.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Buck,” Eddie warns even though both of them are grinning. “When I’m not two seconds away from falling asleep I’ll get you back for this. I have plenty of ammo.”

“Okay, G.I. Joe,” Buck mocks with a salute before standing up from the table. “Let’s get you back to the couch before you fall asleep in the soup and another crime of opportunity happens.”

If Eddie minds the hovering, he doesn’t say as Buck walks with him to the couch and fluffs some of the pillows. Eddie leans his head against the back of the couch when he sits and closes his eyes, listening to Buck move around the house for a few minutes before he feels him hover once more.

“You’re going to hurt your neck like that,” Buck says from where he’s standing behind the couch looking down at Eddie.

“It’s helping with the sinus pressure, honestly.”

“I know of a better way, hang on.”

Eddie hears Buck move away and down the hall towards the bathroom and pries his eyes back open when he feels his tall shadow cast over him once again.

“Here,” Buck murmurs, holding up a steaming, damp washcloth. “Close your eyes, okay? This will help.”

Eddie does so, trusting Buck with whatever he’s about to do and feels himself lower into the couch with relief as the heat from the washcloth fights against the tightness in his face as his friend gently drapes it across the bridge of his nose.

“Wow, I almost feel bad for all the times I sent one of those photos of you drooling like a baby in the group chat now,” Eddie says, smiling up at Buck standing over him even if it’s obscured by the towel.

“Uh huh. Sure.” Buck lifts the towel to refold it and place it across Eddie forehead.

“I do,” the sick man says, grin slipping as his words begin to sound more serious. “But not as sorry as I am for…overstepping earlier. I-“

“Hey, no. Don’t do that,” Buck says as he moves around to stand between the coffee table and the couch to straighten up the medicine and tissues and make sure the tv remote is within reach. “You didn’t overstep.”

“Buck, I-“

Buck fumbles with the remote, thumbing over the buttons with an audible soft tap, voice barely carrying over it. “My parents are assholes and…I wish they had loved me better.”

“They should have,” Eddie leaves no room for argument, picking his head up making the washcloth fall into his lap.

Buck nods, agreement more so that they can move on than fully believing it. “And maybe…maybe I am a dramatic dork.”

“I said-“

“And if you… if you think I’m… lovable then, I’d be okay with that,” Buck says, chancing a glance at Eddie and smiling when the other man grins widely. “Really okay with it.”

“Good,” Eddie nods and for a moment they are caught in a standstill of staring at each other as their axis of friendship begins to shift towards something else. The moment however is broken by Eddie coughing into his elbow. “But maybe we wait until I’m feeling better?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Buck agrees, going back to straightening up and picking up Eddie’s discarded tissues.

“You don’t have to do that,” Eddie scrunches his nose and holds his hand out like he has the energy to get up and throw them away himself.

“I know I don’t,” Buck says, pausing on his way to the trash just behind the couch to lean over and place his first kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head.

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