#also his FUCKING PROFILE IS MAGNIFICENT HOW IS HE SO

[radioactive-cloud]

why is he so

source: x

[alonetimelover]

pairing: Harry Styles x equestrian!reader

fc: Jessica Springsteen

summary: in which harry needed to learn how to ride a horse for his daylight music video

a/n: thank you to the anon that requested equestrian!reader

masterlist

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 42 101 others

harryupdates HARRY SPOTTED FILMING SOMETHING IN ATLANTA!!!!!!!!

view all 4 201 comments

hArrysbtch NO FUCKING WAY

hArrysbtch WHAT IS HAPPENING

harrysmoustache STOP whatever you're doing, just STOP

harrysmylife King is back

harryshoee this is for daylight, i'm telling you!

⤷ stylesbabie didn't he film sth with james?

⤷ harryshoee i think it was only for the show and not the original music video. at least I hope so!!!

harrybestie phoebe is that you?

harryno1fan he has a strange mind...

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yourinstagram

liked by harryupdates and 24 301 others

yourinstagram Olympics are no more for us, so Don Juan joined a circus!

view all 1 301 comments

hArrysbtch ill recognise that bitch anywhere!!!!

harryshoee ariana what are you doing here?????

harryupdates 👀

user49 hello, why are "Olympics no more"?

⤷ yourinstagram hiii! jumping has been removed from Olympics because of an incident that happened during one of the competitions.

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, stylesbabie and 33 201 others

harrysupdates HARRY FOLLOWED YN YSN ON IG AND TWITTER! he liked all of her photos and commented on the last 10!

view all 4 201 comments

harryupdates YN YSN is equestrian that won silver medal at the 2020 Olympics! she also is rumoured to be involved in harry's daylight music video!!

hArrysbtch nah, that bitch is gone!

harrysmoustache he's taken?!

harrysmylife maaaaan, he in love

stylesbabie oh she so posted a picture of harry on her ig then

harryshoee we're the same. I've done the same to her profile. I love her too

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harrylisbon

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 67 208 others

harrylisbon WTHAJDKOW GUYS!!!! HARRY JUST PLAYED THIS DURING DAYLIGHT!!!!!

view all 10 401 comments

harryupdates what is going on?????

hArrysbtch what if he drops ot during the final show????

harryshoee im losing my shit rn

stylesbabie im seeing him in Rome, he better played it in the background!!!!

harrysmoustache screaming crying throwing up

harrysfan82 I died dead

harrysfan03 i lost the idgaf war....

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harryupdates

liked by yourinstagram, harryshoee and 58 401 others

harryupdates DAYLIGHT MV 19th JULY 5PM UK

view all 6 402 others

harryupdates guess what? im not sleeping again tonight!

hArrysbtch excuse me, i have heart problems

harrysmoustache yellow bird supremacy!!!!!

yourinstagram 🏇🏻🏇🏻🏇🏻

⤷ hArrysbtch what you mean???????

⤷ harrysmylife yn, tell me you're involved!

⤷ yourinstagram 🤫

harrysmylife he's in his taylor era

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harrystyles

liked by harryupdates, yourinstagram and 8 301 031 others

harrystyles DAYLIGHT MV just for you, H xx yourinstagram

view all 491 301 comments

yourinstagram Don Juan looks magnificent!

⤷ harrystyles what about me?

⤷ yourinstagram we still need to work on your posture

⤷ harrystyles yes, ma'am

⤷ hArrysbtch WTF, he knows how to comment?????

harryupdates that's your best video to date

harrysmylife he can ride??? what can't he do??

annetwist Proud ❤️

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch and 49 302 others

harryupdates "She was the first choice from the moment the idea popped in my head. I couldn't be happier about it. She's the best." HARRY ON WORKING WITH YN IN DAYLIGHT MUSIC VIDEO BTS

view all 5 302 comments

hArrysbtch he in love

harrysmoustache HE BLUSHED SO HARD!!!!!

harryshoee the clips of the laughing together??????

harrysmylife and and and the way he looks at her

harrysfan94 but the clip when yn's doing all the jumping and all??? she's sooo good. couldn't harry just have her starring in the mv?

⤷ yourinstagram yeah, harrystyles?

⤷ harrystyles there is this version...

⤷ hArrysbtch WHAT

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, stylesbabie and 492 301 others

yourinstagram THE Don Juan and some indie singer on their first lesson

view all 49 302 comments

harrystyles the star 🐎

harryupdates the shade???

stylesbabie uhhh, they so together

harryshoee do you give lessons to ordinary people?

⤷ yourinstagram during the summer when there's no competition I'm holding a camp. you can enrol with the link in my bio!

⤷ user92 be careful, it's expensive as hell!

⤷ yourinstagram well, we do not take any money from our pupils. we ask for food or money (however much you want) donation! hope that helps, x

harrysmoustache oh, I'm so in love with them

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harryupdates

liked by harrysmoustache and 49 301 others

harryupdates YN AND HARRY SPOTTED HORSE RIDING OUTSIDE OF LONDON!

view all 7 492 others

hArrysbtch oh so we know what he's going to do during the break

harrysmylife 😭that's😭so😭sweet😭

stylesbabie he looks so cute in his little outfit

harryshoee SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY

harrysmyman unholy thought, unholy

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, hArrysbtch and 830 201 others

yourinstagram ❤️❤️❤️

view all 49 201 comments

harrystyles congratulations, darling.

commemt liked by yourinstagram and 68 302 others

harryupdates the support

hArrysbtch we haven't heard from him in months

⤷ harrysmoustache and we've got a prize today for waiting patiently

stylesbabie everyone say: THANK YOU, YN

harrysmylife and everything started because this man has a mind strange enough to start a circus...

[skitskatdacat63]

I should've been sleeping before my flight but instead I drew Seb as Antinous :D

Reference + Commentary:

SEB IS MY MODERN DAY ANTINOUS, OKAY!? I WOULD DEIFY HIM IF I COULD!!!

But seriously I spent like an hour obsessing over statues of Antinous just thinking; "holy fuck, he reminds me so much of Seb???"

Big, pretty eyes? Check. Magnificent curls? Check. Beautiful side profile? Check. Etc etc.

I read this description of a statue and was instantly struck with "this is so Seb.":

"The body and face of this sculpture are in idealized youth, with plump cheeks and round face, and his hair is usually unkempt. Antinous's hair has also been described as artificial looking, even wig-like, because of how similar the placement of his hair is across statues. His youthful appearance, large eyes, pouting lips, and layered locks of hair over his forehead are some of the iconography that can be used to identify him"(x)

Also which AU of mine is this hmmm. It can be either the Renaissance Muse AU(x) or the random Roman Caesar Fernando AU(x) I drew it with the latter in mind(bcs its basis is literally just Hadrian and Antinous), but it's fun to imagine the Martian version as well!! Maybe an AU of an AU, where Mark is Pygmalion, and Seb is Galatea 🤭🤭

[malavera]

Low Profile (18+), pt. ii — Tom Cruise

↳ you’re a successful singer who’s secretly a Sugar Baby to the biggest movie star, Tom Cruise.

summary: 2 months earlier before hell went loose, you and Tom went to Lake Como for a small getaway to enjoy yourselves.

pairings: Tom Cruise x Singer!Reader

warnings: undisclosed relationship, mature content, fluff, smut, public (but secluded) oral f/receiving, squirting, age gap (reader is 25 tom is 59), pet names (princess), dd/lg elements, daddykink.

w.c: 2891

a/n: please do keep in mind that THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, any places mentioned, time and events are all fiction. I do not own tom cruise (i wish i do). this series will contain 18+ contents most of the time, minors DNI!

read part 1 here

“What do you have in mind?” His deep raspy voice mumbled through the phone on your ear. Your hands playing with the hem of your dress, your eyes darted back and forth watching the situation in the studio peeking from your sunglasses as you think to yourself what would be the perfect place to getaway from all of this workload. Every once in a while people would need to get away and heal just for a good hour before they go back to face the reality ahead of them.

Then you remembered, you’ve always wanted to visit Lake Como in Italy. You’ve seen pictures of it from Pinterest or Tumblr, how wonderful and seemed so magnificently magical. It’s almost too good to be true. A week later you told your manager how you needed to fix yourself a getaway, alone. She offered to come with you, but you politely declined as you assured that you’d be going with a very dear friend of yours. You also wished that you have a full day off, you don’t want to be bothered, nor the internet needs to be informed about your whereabouts.

Here you are, head on his broad shoulders, snuggling around his arms on your way towards the hangar for to get on his private jet. The smell of his signature fragrance breeze lightly through your nose—felt like being at home. The warmth that he projects, the touches, the sweet words it’s nobody’s fault if your heart desires to wish for more, more than what you have right now.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but it’s just for 15 seconds. Okay?” The first 3 months were fine, you were intrigued by the excitement—the feelings were mutual while it lasted. Now, it aches your heart as you watch him handing your sunglasses and your scarf to cover up your face. As if on default, your body reacted normally and quickly put on the disguise. Tom, of course, is not stupid. He knows you’re starting to hate these kind of things, but he couldn’t help it any other way. He’s aware about the danger to this relationship if it breaks out to the world, and little did you know—he’s not thinking of himself out there, he’s thinking about you. He knows the majority of your fanbase across the world will look at you with a side eye, at least their parents would as the majority of your fans are younger age.

Tom always finds a way to distract you from your own thoughts, Throughout the long flight, you both pretty much enjoyed yourselves with you warming his cock. Having his hard cock inside your cunt without doing anything for a good 15 minutes to, even possible, 1 hour, is one of many things that is your favorite when you’re with him. Aside from he could just fuck you right there, you feel more connected as he’d get vulnerable with you—for some reason, maybe he felt connected with you more though no pun intended. He’d excitedly talk about his upcoming movie projects, and you’d ask him about his old movie projects for example; You had a movie with Brad Pitt and I read that you complained he had a bad odor, was it so bad? When it was your turn to talk about something, he couldn’t really give you time to talk about anything because when it was your turn, he’d find you adorable explaining all of your big singer gig and music project he couldn’t help but to thrust his hips slightly here and there—that’s where you’d get flustered, fisting his dress shirt and have your eyes fluttered shut feeling his cock.

Turning off the hairdryer, you softly place it back to where it belongs before you brush your thick hair smoothing them out. You sighed to yourself, applying chapstick to your plump lips then joining him in the bedroom as he laid there shirtless with only a jogger around his hips, arms crossed behind his arms flexing his chest watching the local channel. Of course, he owns a Villa here and you couldn’t feel more happier, safe, and content for it is his private manor, and no one would bother both of you.

Unwrapping your robe to reveal your bare breasts and a soft pink panties, Tom peeked to stare at you with a tiny smirk on his face as well as yours. He loves it when you’re almost naked as it gave him easier access to play with your breasts while cuddling. You sighed pulling the blankets up, Tom uncross his arms behind his neck shifting into an open invitation to cuddle against his chest.

“What do you want to do first thing in the morning?” He mumbled in your hair, kissing your head.

“Mm, I don’t know. You be my tour guide, daddy.” You mumbled out an answer while rubbing your eyes with your knuckles. Tom chuckled and went to kiss your forehead,

“You feel so soft, baby. You smell good too.” His big calloused hands went wandering around your body, caressing your arms then to your collarbone, down to your chest—massaging your breasts. A smile formed on your face with your eyes closed.

"I'm tired, Daddy. Can we do this in the morning?"

Tom smiled, "Alright, baby. Get some sleep, I'm here, I'm not going to leave you."

Your heart melts in your chest, your smile falters slowly, you could only pray to god that despite the undisclosed relationship and how wrong it is, you hoped that there comes a day where you could be flaunted in his arms to the world as you could finally say it's me and you against them.

Of course, you didn’t plan this little getaway trip only to feel melancholy and other things that you shouldn’t be overthinking. You’re with him, and that’s all that matters. Morning came by pretty soon that you thought, you woke up to a smell of the burnt Blueberry Pancakes and a hint of the sweet maple syrup. You peek one eye open before adjusting your blurry vision to reveal he had prepared a tray full of breakfast. You gently rub your eyes before sitting up to look around the room for him, you noticed how he opens the door to the balcony—the breezy wind breezes into the room, that unfamiliar fresh air runs through your nose giving your heart at ease. A note was propped against the cup of coffee as it reads,

Out for a small meeting with McQ, be back before you know it.

Of course, everywhere he goes, he would have his crew around with him. You huff in annoyance, crumbling the piece of paper and toss it away. You thought this would be only just the two of you, away from the reality like you wished to. It’s a bad trip already, you thought. You tried to not let your annoyance gets in the way of you and him enjoying this trip, but you couldn’t help it, either way you’d be a brat.

Sitting outside of the Vila at the backyard that leads straight to the beautiful lake, just need to take a couple of steps down and you’d have your own private swimming pool. You plan on getting in the water but Tom just came back and better yet, he’s talking on the phone while you sit there, annoyed, with your legs crossed while flipping through Vogue.

“Do you want to see the market? They’ve got good spots and you can take your Instagram pictures.” Once he hung up his phone, he placed it down on the clear glass rounded table and pulling his chair closer to you.

“No, I won’t be posting any pictures.” You mumbled.

“Okay, how about a small cafe not far from here? It’s my favorite they’ve got-”

“McQ or anyone of your crew’s going to be there?” Tom clamped his mouth shut receiving your snap. You’re upset, tilting your head biting your tongue in the corner of your mouth staring at him while your hands kept flipping the magazine pages on your lap.

Tom’s shoulders slumped, a soft sigh escaped from his lips. He understood why you’re giving him attitude, it was his fault anyway. “Princess,” Oh he’s calling you using your favorite pet names now huh.

“I know you’re upset, you have every right to be. But, you don’t have to worry about anything, they’re not staying. Even if they are, I promise you they won’t be in our away..” Tom coaxed, wrapping his hands behind your knees as he kneeled in front of you. You kept your ground, your lips pursed still in annoyance.

Tom sighed once again before he put himself back om his seat. “How about this,” He started. You turned your attention from the view to him. “You’ll have full control of my phone, for these 3 days. I’m all yours, Princess—I promise.” Tom assured, pushing his chin down, his eyes burning into yours.

“How does that sound to you?” You tried to suppress a smile but fail either way, your arms slowly uncrossed before nodding your head vigorously.

“That sounds like a deal, Daddy.” Bright smile displayed on his face before you jumped to sit on his lap, hugging him.

"Come on, let's go for a swim."

At last you could finally feel at ease, throwing your head back, a sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose, your elbows propped to support your body relaxing on the ground. Striking a pose for your Sugar Daddy as he took the photo using your phone, a smile on his face as words of encouragement sounded from his lips. Your heart felt giddy in the moment watching him act like a paparazzi taking your pictures, it's a hot day outside but both of you didn't mind it at all.

"Here, Princess." Tom handed you your phone as you gently set it down beside your stuff.

"Come on, let's jump into the water. Get on my back."

"Uhm- Are you sure? I think it's pretty deep, besides it's been a while since I went swimming, I'm afraid my body forgets how to float." Tom laughs shaking his head before he grabs you by your hand pulling you up to stand on your feet.

"Don't worry, Princess. You'll have me, just hold on to me. I promise you, it's shallow, you'll land on your feet."

Boy, that was such a big fat lie once you get on his back as he jumped into the lake with your eyes screwed very shut. As both of you dived into the water, your legs tried to find the bottom where he said you could land on your feet but failed because the lake was not shallow. You swam up to the surface with your heart thumping in your chest, gasping a breath before Tom follows.

"YOU LIED!"

"SEE, YOU FLOAT! There's no way your body forgot how to." Tom laughed.

You grunted, splashing the water at him. "It's not funny! What if my body did forgot how to float?!" You exaggerate. Tom is still laughing, wiping his face before he swims closer to you, holding your body.

"You're silly, that wouldn't happen, you big baby."

The water was mineral clear, it was cold but it felt nice against your skin. You and Tom basically became kids again, at least for him. You both had a challenge who could hold their breaths longer, play tags, goofing around until you didn't realize it's almost afternoon. You swam towards the steps as Tom follows behind you. Setting your palm against the surface to lift yourself out from the water, before sitting down on it.

"What do you think we should eat?" You asked, gathering your wet hair before squeezing the water out.

"I have something in mind." His voice low, his hands set on your knees, spreading them gently as in default, you adjusted your seating position and Your elbows propped on the higher steps.

"I want a taste of this." His thumb went to caress your soaked bikini, a smile pulled on your face.

"Here?"

"Mhmm.." Tom nodded his head, his eyes set on your pussy before his hands went to untie your bottom. You help him by lifting your ass up as it would be easier for him to discard the clothing off from your hips. He tossed it behind you as it landed on the ground, turning your head back to watch him get in between your legs. Tom puts your legs on his shoulder, his fingertips went to caress your naked pussy—teasing your clit.

"Mm, Daddy.. Do you think it's a good idea to do this? What if someone sneak into your manor and took pictures of us?" A worry started to rush inside you, you know it won't happen but you like to overthink the unthinkable situation, as it didn't even happen.

"No need to worry about anything, Princess. Now, shh. Let daddy have a taste." Tom mumbles before he dives into your flesh, his tongue gliding from the bottom to the top, as he sucked on your clit. A gasp earned from your plump list, as your head throws back, your eyes fluttered shut rolling to the back of your head. His tongue game is definitely something, it never fails to bring you the euphoria.

Especially now, the thought of being watched by someone, whoever hides behind the bushes or the walls, or even if there's a helicopter passing by—watching the way Tom Cruise eats the young singer's pussy in the pooling steps, somehow excites you know. The worries had gone away, consciously you challenge anybody out there to watch you getting eaten out. He nestled against your thighs as his hands caress your waist before they wander up to your breasts giving them a massage.

"Oh fuck, daddy.. That felt so good.. Please give me more." You whine out a plea. Tom pulled his face away from your pussy, his eyes bore into yours as you watch him gather his saliva using his fingers before he glides them over your pussy.

"Tell me you need my fingers to cum." Tom growled, flicking his fingers against your clit.

You squeaked, your thighs almost clamped against each other but Tom stopped them. "I need your fingers to cum, daddy. Please!" You moaned.

A smirk on his face, shoving two fingers inside your cunt earning out a loud gasp from you. Tom started to curl his fingers at a slow pace, moans escaped from your throat, your hips started to move to create more friction, you spread your legs wider—if you could watch yourself, this is such a porno situation. But, you love it. You watched the way his bicep flex as he shove his fingers inside you. His eyebrows scrunched in concentration, eager to get something out of you.

Tom increased the pace of his fingers, before he dives back into your pussy playing with your clit using his tongue. Porn sounds watered down from your lips, you couldn't stop staring at the way his jaw moves up and down sucking in your pussy, the familiar tight knot feeling appears in your stomach and Tom knows you're almost reaching for your orgasm.

"Come on, princess." Tom growled against your pussy, the boom from his voice sends vibration through your body, his tongue flicking nonstop.

"Shit! Daddy!" You shrieked, your legs lifted straight up in the air, your thighs shook and with one final glide from his warm tongue, his face are greeted with a spray from your pussy as you squirted out your orgasm. Tom moaned drinking in your fluid, his fingers still thrusting inside you as you ride out your orgasm.

Fuck, I just squirted out to the lake, You thought. Tom must've read your mind as he is taking in the way your eyes widened, your chest heaves, your eyes stares away to the lake. He lets out a small laugh before wiping his face.

"Come on now, Princess. Let's get you something to eat."

Memorizing it as you swiped through the pictures in your phone, you couldn't help but ache. You miss him, it's been 2 weeks and he's back into his reality. Busy as ever, he barely texts you nor call you. You have to understand though, after all,

You don't think he's really yours.

"Y/N, there's a package for you. Here." Your manager came into your room, setting down a medium sized box on your table. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion as you set down your phone to reach for the box.

"Who is it from?" She asked, nudging her head.

A note was attached to it as it read,

I know you miss me,

here's something to keep you company for a while. — D

The way your lips tugged to each corner your Manager got the hint as it is probably from someone very dear to you. She rolls her eyes with a silly smile before leaving you alone, shutting the door on her way out. You bit your lip once you hear the doors closed, unwrapping the ribbon on the box.

A gasp sounded from your lips, a silly smile plastered shaking your head side to side.

"Such a naughty old man."

It's a replica of his cock as a dildo.

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tagging:

@deanscroissant

@helloitstsyu

@tomsf18

@call-sign-shark

@moondustfairies

@katherineswritingsblog

@elenavampire21

@gypsymoon548

@lynnsthoughts

@joeltheegoodson

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Perhaps some of you remember that time I wrote up an entire essay for the TVTropes forums to get William cemented as a Magnificent Bastard because you literally have to get fictional characters vetted by people who care an absurd amount about this to add them to the trope page.

I am now back on my bullshit, and just got Albert confirmed (Louis is in the works, but the voting looks good for him so far). I did his write up today and it should be up later this week? I enjoy the short version as well.

And now:

The Work

Moriarty the Patriot is a (very loose) retelling of the Sherlock Holmes stories combined with James Bond set in the late 1800s, focused on Professor James Moriarty and exploring his motivations.

The Character

This post is to open a discussion specifically on Albert James Moriarty, older brother of Professor Moriarty (who we already confirmed) and one the Professor's Co-Dragons. Albert is the original "Moriarty" family member biologically who took the other two in as children, and is the leader of MI6 for most of the series.

Why Is He a Bastard

I mean, he kills his own younger biological brother and his mother by hand and then arranged for the entire rest of his family and servants to die in their sleep in a fire. So like. Is that enough?

He also took two orphan kids in, then basically said, "Hey, in exchange for getting your little brother heart surgery he needed to live, help me murder like so many people. Kthx."

He tends to come off colder than either of his brothers, which is sort of impressive since they're all murderers.

I like Albert, but he's certainly a bastard.

But Not That Bad?

Much like his brothers, Albert is trying in a very fucked up way to improve society by murdering people he thinks are making society worse. He is...trying to help in a Pay Evil unto Evil sort of way.

Honestly, Albert is the Moriarty brother who gets the least amount of sympathy from fans, although this shifted a fair amount after it was revealed he has severely untreated OCD, which is a massive contributing factor to his need to eliminate the hypocrisies of all these abusive nobles who keep going to Christian churches. But it's not like most people with OCD are murderers, so there's a limit to how far this Freudian Excuse is going to take him.

Is He Charming/Magnificent

Albert is, according to an official Japanese fan poll, the second most popular character in the series (second to the protagonist of the series, who won by a landslide). This seems to track from the interactions I've had with people. So people are charmed by him.

Albert is also in the series pretty much assigned to "socialization" on behalf of everyone else. He doesn't seem to really like it very much, but he gets along with people rather well. According to his official character profile, he's still getting asked out and courted even after losing his title and going to prison for the murders, so apparently people are really into him.

He also has a similar flair for the dramatic to his younger brother. This is absolutely a man who is going to revel in elaborate schemes and acting a part. While he often asks his brother to arrange details and plans, he always shows up to convince people that he's just so worried about his kidnapped brother, please help him, and oh, gasp, people have died, how tragic.

But Is He Brilliant?

This, I think, is a key factor in Albert's case here: Most of William's subordinates are very subordinate to him. It's made clear that William expects all of his crew to be able to think and plan for themselves and make their own decisions, but the series doesn't always take time to show that off for everyone. Albert does get that time.

Albert often sees opportunities before he engages William for a plan to make it work. Manipulating Mycroft Holmes into getting MI6 created so he could lead it was Albert's idea, and he executed the plan (and he leads MI6 when it's not doing Lord of Crime business), even if William came up with many of the details to help him out. Albert is the one who sees the potential in Adam Whitley and brings the topic up to William.

Also, Albert was the first person to bring William's dreams of killing nobles and creating a brighter world into fruition and set it into a tangible, real path. He and William are frequently tagged as the only two who originated the entire plan.

Albert is a brilliant opportunist and an excellent man to have making sure everything goes off without a hitch, even if the details of getting things done aren't really his forte.

He's brilliant.

What About His Competition?

Most of the nemeses in the series are focused on William, and Albert is his subordinate. Basically none of Sherlock or Milverton's attention ever splashes Albert's way. The person he really engages with in a competitive dance with is...Mycroft Holmes. And while Albert doesn't exactly win, neither does he lose to Mycroft. They come to a couple of agreements and passes to work together and watch to make sure the other isn't getting in their way.

Verdict:

Yes.

[frozenbound]

I'm the person who asked about your tumblr so glad to see asks open for requests! I absolutely adored that shimadacest fic of yours, I also saw a fic recently where jesse has the hots for hanzo but hates him they eventually fuck and it's written as fairly tender/smut with feelings at the end. I'm not sure if that was you or anyone else but I am always and I mean always in need of more yeehan smut. So my request is assless chaps, hanzo in a cowboy hat fukin.

Thank you so much for your kind words! The hate-to-tender-fuck fic isn’t mine, but it’s a great story! I tend to want to skip straight to the tender fucking. I have no patience for hate between two handsome men, haha!

Thank you so much for the request!! I’m super excited to write it! YeeHan Cowboy Hanzo coming right up, under the Read More!

“What are you wearing?!” Genji demanded, rocketing to his feet off of Hanzo’s bed. Hanzo shook his head as he closed the bathroom door behind him and walked…the hairs rising on the back of his neck from the noise the jingling spurs made, so antithetical to the silent steps he had taken since he was four…to the full-length mirror beside his wardrobe.

He stopped in front of it and considered himself: front on, in profile, and looking over his shoulder.

He looked really good as a cowboy.

Genji came bouncing up behind him, staring. “No way. No way. Who are you? What have you done with my brother?”

“If you’re allowed to make extravagant purchases every day,” Hanzo retorted, still looking himself over, “then I’m allowed to make at least one.”

“Extravagant?! Is that what you call this?”

“What would you call it?”

“Insane!”

Well, Hanzo conceded internally as he turned back to face the mirror full-on, Genji might be right.

A dark brown cowboy hat, a blue-green plaid button-up shirt, tight-fitting jeans, chaps, and cowboy boots, complete with spurs, were an insane impulse purchase after discovering that Seven Samurai had an American rip-off called The Magnificent Seven…a rip-off that was actually, surprisingly good.

But, as Hanzo raised a hand to his chin and stroked his new beard and goatee, which he had grown recently and now coincidentally looked like the finishing touches on this new look, the impulse had paid dividends.

He looked good.

He looked really good.

He would never, ever, ever wear this in public, but he looked really good as a cowboy.

“I can’t believe,” Genji said slowly after a brief silent period while they both stared at Hanzo’s outfit, “that you even got the assless chaps.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “All chaps are assless, Genji. You remember how in English ‘trousers’ and ‘jeans’ are plural? It’s because they started out like this.” He unbuckled the belt holding the chaps together and took them off, showing Genji the shaped leather was in two distinct pieces that covered the outer parts of his legs, but not only didn’t join up at the crotch but were also open in the interior.

Genji whistled. “Huh. You learn something new every day.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo replied, buckling the chaps back on and turning back to the mirror to feed his growing admiration of himself. “Do it and I’ll break it in half.”

“Brother!” Genji whined, cellphone in hand. “You gotta let me!”

“I will break it, Genji.”

Genji put it back in his pocket, grumbling, but Hanzo had no pity for him. This had been an impulse buy, a gift of sorts, but to himself, and himself alone.

Nobody would ever see him like this. Ever.

“Ever” turned out to mean “For twelve years”.

When Hanzo and Genji walked down the exit ramp of the transport to meet the small crowd of Overwatch agents that had gathered to greet them, Hanzo only had eyes for the giant gorilla who was leading this insane escapade of a second Overwatch, and when he got over him, there were plenty of other characters to distract him, ranging from the bubbly British agent to the Brazilian guerrilla DJ to the Korean streamer-slash-war heroine.

Then there was Genji nudging him familiarly and catching Hanzo’s eye and grinning, his teeth flashing white in his dark, scarred face, and the fact that Genji was here and alive and welcoming him into his circle of friends and comrades took Hanzo’s breath away and he could only look uncomprehendingly at his brother for a few uncomfortable seconds.

Then Genji motioned again, stronger and more insistent, and obligated Hanzo to look at a…at a…

At a cowboy.

With a cowboy hat, red and yellow plaid button-up shirt, tight-fitting jeans, chaps, and cowboy boots, complete with jingling spurs.

Hanzo stared.

He even had the cloak over his shoulders. What was it called? Not a poncho, it was a…

The cowboy looked back mildly, with a trace of unfriendly wariness at Hanzo’s scrutiny and silence.

“Howdy,” he said at last, when Hanzo failed to say anything, and Hanzo nearly closed his eyes.

He even sounded like a cowboy.

But he managed to return the greeting with a minimum of nervousness under Genji’s gleeful eye, and the cowboy introduced himself as Cole Cassidy and left it at that.

But things didn’t stay like that.

No, over the next weeks and months, the cowboy revealed himself to be an astute, thoughtful, charismatic, and capable leader. 

He turned out to be an excellent shot.

He had a varied and eventful and unlikely background, with an undercurrent of a search for redemption running throughout.

He was gay. Completely and thoroughly gay, and after a few months, when he discovered that Hanzo was a sharp, observant, poised, and skilled agent who was an incredible shot with a mixed and weighty and strange background that had ultimately led to a search for redemption…

Well, it turned out they had a lot in common.

So it was no surprise when they started fucking.

It was a surprise that it didn’t take at least a little alcohol to get them started, but Cassidy made sure to proposition Hanzo in the afternoon that first time, not in the evening after they had both indulged in some whiskey and sake.

Maybe he simply found him irresistible when they were shirtless and sweaty and alone in the Watchpoint’s gym.

At any rate, they ended up running up to Cassidy’s quarters, and Hanzo managed to surprise Cassidy by pushing the cowboy to sit on his bed while Hanzo dropped to his knees.

“And here I thought I was taking the initiative,” he drawled as Hanzo tugged down his workout shorts to reveal his erection, the head shiny with precum.

“You did,” Hanzo replied, “but I’ll take over from here.”

The cowboy opened his mouth to retort, but only a groan came out as Hanzo engulfed him in the moist heat of his mouth.

Hanzo was pleased to find that the cowboy was a complete gentleman. There had been times when his partner had enjoyed Hanzo’s lips and mouth and tongue and then immediately dropped off to sleep or simply left as soon as they exploded down his throat, but not Cassidy. After Hanzo had swallowed, Cassidy took a few minutes to catch his breath, gently stroking Hanzo’s cheek with a thumb and gazing affectionately down at him, but then he lifted Hanzo onto the bed and returned the favor with gusto, milking Hanzo dry with the best blowjob he’d gotten in years.

Things progressed and meandered at a gentle, languid pace after that, the two men cautiously yet resolutely exploring this new relationship of theirs. Their encounters were restricted to blowjobs and sloppy makeout sessions for a few weeks more, until Hanzo realized that while the physical contact and physical release were welcome, a certain bloom of warmth began to swell in his chest whenever he saw Cassidy, and he fancied that he could see something similar welling up in the cowboy’s eyes and face whenever they met, and it stayed there as he watched Hanzo’s head bob up and down in his lap or when he stared up at Hanzo as he licked up and down his straining length.

“I think,” he said slowly one golden afternoon, his metallic fingers tracing the lines of Hanzo’s dragon as Hanzo cuddled him to his chest, “that I’d like for you to call me Cole.”

Hanzo blinked, swallowed, then ventured, “In what capacity, exactly?”

“In the capacity of my, uh…” Cole said, trailing off, then setting his jaw and looking up at him. “As my boyfriend.”

To his visible relief, Hanzo smiled. “I’d like that very much, Cole.”

Genji screeched when he found out later that day.

“I knew it! I knew it!” he crowed, pounding a metal hand painfully on Hanzo’s back. Hanzo absorbed it stoically. “I knew you had a thing for cowboys! C’mon, we gotta get down to the evidence lockers and see if it’s all still there.”

“If what is still there?” asked Hanzo, bewildered by this completely unexpected turn.

Genji grinned, and while Hanzo was thankful he was getting used to the sight, he couldn’t help worrying at the implications. “If the evidence we seized when Blackwatch raided Shimada Castle is still there.”

Hanzo felt the blood drain out of his face. “Evidence?”

“Yes, brother,” Genji replied with a gleam in his eye. “Evidence.”

And that was why, hours later, Hanzo sent a text to Cole. 

“Come to my quarters. We need to celebrate.”

Cole came, and knocked on the door, which slid aside to admit him into the dark interior, lit only by a few candles.

“Hanzo?” he asked, sounding as though he rather liked where this was going as he stepped inside and let the door close behind him. “Where are you?”

Hanzo pushed the bathroom door open.

Cole stared.

“Howdy,” Hanzo said at last, when Cole failed to say anything, and Cole closed his eyes.

“Tell me,” he said, opening his eyes and letting a grin slowly spread across his face to rob his words of any seriousness, “that I’m not just your fetish.”

“You are not,” Hanzo said, smiling back as he stepped into the room with a jingle, forcing an involuntary chuckle out of Cole as he glanced down at the spurs. “When I was younger, I…happened to see and enjoy an Old West film, and I liked the aesthetics enough to want to have some of them. It’s not a sexual thing, but, ah…now…I thought it might come as a welcome surprise.”

“It sure did. It sure is,” Cole said, laughing again in wonderment as he came forward and took Hanzo by the shoulders and looked him up and down. “Look at you! You’re picture perfect. You look like you’re ready to mount that bull and ride him all the way to Santa Fe and back.”

“Well,” Hanzo said, reddening. “I thought…though it isn’t a sexual thing…I thought perhaps…we could…that I could…” he trailed off.

Cole’s grin widened, though it disappeared for a moment as he licked his lips. “That we could ride?” he finished, his eyes alight with hope.

Hanzo nodded.

Cole leaned in close. “Yeehaw,” he murmured, then he ducked under the brim of Hanzo’s hat and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You, uh…you want me all dolled up, too?”

Hanzo licked his lips and nodded.

Cole looked radiant. “You into assless chaps at all?”

“All chaps are…”

“Oh, darling!” Cole interrupted, hugging him close and nearly bumping Hanzo’s hat right off his head. “You’re turning into my sun and stars, you know that?”

Hanzo mumbled something into Cole’s chest, but even he didn’t know what it was.

Cole rapidly went back to his quarters and returned so quickly he was breathing hard when he knocked on Hanzo’s door to be readmitted. Despite being out of breath, he did his best to saunter in, his own spurs jingling, and even twirling on the spot under Hanzo’s heated and openly admiring gaze. “Look who’s here,” he said smugly. 

“I’m looking,” Hanzo replied, pushing off the wall he had deliberately posed against. “I see a wild stallion in need of being tamed.”

“Oh, really?” Cole said, reaching up to pull the brim of his hat low over one eye. “And you think you’re the one who’s gonna do it?”

“Clearly,” Hanzo said as he stepped up to him and looked up, their brims brushing against each other.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, partner.”

“With good reason.”

And Hanzo took Cole’s jaw gently in hand and guided him down to his lips, immediately licking into his mouth before parting and looking into Cole’s rather dazed eyes.

“You got a, uh,” the cowboy said slowly, his eyes flicking between Hanzo’s eyes and Hanzo’s lips. “You got a gentler touch than I was expecting.”

“Gentle or rough, I’ll get the job done,” Hanzo purred. “Perhaps the wild stallion might even come willingly.”

“Oh, he sure will, when he sees what you got to offer,” Cole replied fervently.

“Good. Then first, the stallion can lose these.”

And Hanzo swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped Cole’s jeans.

“Tit for tat, cowboy,” Cole said, a little breathlessly.

“If you insist,” Hanzo breathed back as he tugged Cole’s jeans over his thick thighs to pool around his boots. Hanzo had the presence of mind to pull off his boots first before he unbuttoned and shucked off his own jeans, and he laughed as Cole awkwardly tried to shove off his jeans and boots while keeping his eyes glued to Hanzo, managing to tangle the jeans into his spurs before finally kicking the whole mess off.

Then the two of them stalked around each other in the middle of the room, hungrily devouring the sight of the other’s bare ass flexing, round and muscular and framed by the dark leather of the chaps.

Then Hanzo began to slowly unbutton his shirt and Cole’s lips parted as he drank in the sight, Hanzo’s abs and pecs and the swirling lines of his tattoo coming into sight as he shrugged off and dropped the shirt to the floor. 

Hanzo winked and slid his fingertips along the brim of his hat. “The hat and chaps stay on.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling,” Cole replied, his weeping cock bouncing.

“I would,” Hanzo said stepping forward and taking hold of the hem of Cole’s shirt. “I want this off.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Very well,” Hanzo said, stepping a little closer and swishing his erection back and forth. Since he was shorter than Cole, his cock brushed over Cole’s hairy ballsack, leaving a trail of precum.

All of Hanzo’s attention, however, was on the vista of Cole’s dark skin and darker body hair coming into view as he pulled the concealing, offending fabric of his shirt away, rising and falling under Cole’s heavy, aroused breathing. When he finally had it all unbuttoned, he stepped even closer to push it off his arms, which had the extra effect of pushing his cock past Cole’s balls and into the tight junction of Cole’s thighs, rubbing against his perineum and eliciting a sigh from the taller man.

“Feels good when you touch me there,” Cole said over the soft sound of his shirt falling to the flood, leaving his muscular biceps on full display.

“Does it?” Hanzo asked as he cupped Cole’s balls with his hand and stepped still closer, forcing his cock further between Cole’s legs and along his perineum.

Cole shuddered. “Surprisingly good,” he admitted.

“For me as well,” Hanzo said, wrapping his free arm around Cole’s waist and grabbing a fistful of his ass while simultaneously pulling Cole until they were pressing flush together, with Hanzo’s cock pressing through Cole’s legs and into the softer region of his asscheeks. Hanzo had to tilt his head up to keep his hat from bumping into Cole’s face, which suited him just fine. Cole’s face was red and slightly sweaty, his eyes dark with arousal, his lips full and parted, and his cowboy hat made the perfect background.

“God, you look so handsome in that hat,” Cole whispered, echoing Hanzo’s thoughts. “Never thought I’d find another cowboy so far from the cattle ranches back home.”

Hanzo smiled. “Clothes don’t make the man, Cole.”

“Nah, but now I’ve got to get you back there,” Cole said, starting to run his big, rough hands up and down Hanzo’s sides, feeling the soft skin and hard muscle. “Gonna get you up on a horse, and then we’re gonna gallop all over the countryside together. Gonna teach you how to lasso a calf. Gonna see how long you can stay on a bull.”

“Real or mechanical?” Hanzo asked, flushing under the open, yearning look in Cole’s eyes and under the touch of his hands wandering from his sides to his chest.

“Oh, you’ll graduate from the mechanical to the real thing in no time,” Cole said, sounding entirely convinced. “You’re gonna be winning blue ribbons in barrel racing and bull riding and calf roping in no time.”

Hanzo smiled indulgently. Cole was talking complete nonsense.

The thought of Hanzo on a horse, lasso overhead, chasing down cattle…

…

…well, actually…

…no, it was absurd.

However…

“If you were there,” he said slowly, imagining Cole alongside him on his own horse, whooping and hollering, egging him on, and cheering when Hanzo effortlessly looped a lasso right around a steer’s head, “if you were there, I just might be able to do anything.”

“They got team roping, too, darling,” Cole said with a grin. “Two people gotta rope a steer together. We’d break records, I’m sure of it.”

“Me, too,” said Hanzo softly. “Me, too.”

And he tilted his head back a little more invitingly, and Cole leaned down and kissed him, and it was like something out of a dream that had started out bizarre and nonsensical but had slowly morphed into something more.

Cole licked into his mouth and the dream got even better as Hanzo responded in kind, subconsciously thrusting his hips and making them both moan at the feel of his cock rubbing between Cole’s legs.

When they broke apart, they took a moment to take in the sight of each other’s shiny, wet lips before Cole whispered, “I think it’s time we ride.”

Hanzo’s body burned with desire and he began pushing Cole towards his bed.

“Whoa there, partner!” he said, chuckling at his impatience. “We haven’t rightly…I mean, do you want to…”

Then he yelped when Hanzo roughly shoved him down onto the bed and was instantly upon him, straddling his hips and looking down into his surprised face. Hanzo slowly took in the beautiful sight of the cowboy laid out beneath him, his thick legs covered in leather chaps, his erection standing tall between the leather, his defined, muscular torso bare but for his thick body hair, and his hat, lying upside down above his head, pushed off by his falling on the bed.

He leaned over to snatch the waiting bottle of lube off his bedside cabinet and watched Cole’s face darken with lust as he squirted a healthy amount onto his fingers and reached behind himself, his slick fingers probing toward his entrance. He sighed when his rough fingertips grazed over the sensitive ring, then sighed again, louder and indulgently, when he pushed in, sticking in an entire thick digit because he was impatient and he wanted to be bouncing on Cole’s dick right then and there.

Then he felt Cole’s hands on his hips, over his own chaps, steadying him as he murmured, “Easy, darling, easy. I’m not going anywhere. You get yourself nice and ready, alright? I want you to feel good. Real good.”

Hanzo took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then smiled down at him. “I have been anticipating this for some time.”

“You’ve been anticipating dressing up as a cowboy to seduce the one other cowboy on the Watchpoint?” he replied with a wink.

“Yes,” Hanzo said with a smirk and a shake of his head, looking down at his own legs encased in the loose leather of his own chaps. “Precisely.”

“You sure this ain’t a fetish?”

“Are you?” Hanzo shot back.

Cole grinned triumphantly. “Sure it’s my fetish. I didn’t grow up on a ranch, I was a farmboy. I used to wait all year for the rodeo just to see all them cowboys strutting around in their assless chaps. I didn’t get my first cowboy duds until after my first heist. They were my reward to myself for pulling it off. I was hard as a rock when I first put everything on and looked at myself in the mirror. Jacked off and came all over myself. Almost stained that brand new hat.”

Hanzo stared down at him, idly continuing to finger himself open as he digested this information. 

“Then you’re telling me I shouldn’t aim for your face when I cum?” he asked, glancing at the hat resting on the sheets just above Cole’s head.

Cole burst out laughing. “Just try not to get the hat, darling. If you can manage that, I think I’d look mighty fine covered with your cum.”

Hanzo sucked in a breath at the mental picture.

He was going to make it happen.

He scissored and spread his fingers, stretching himself out until he was working three fingers in and out with ease.

He was ready.

He shuffled forward on his knees and took Cole’s erection in hand, stroking it gently as he covered it in lube. 

Then he shuffled a little further forward, rose up, maneuvered himself into position, then looked Cole in the eye.

“Yeehaw.”

And he sank down onto Cole, breathing out as his blunt cockhead pressed against his entrance, then popped inside.

Cole groaned, his fingertips digging into Hanzo’s hips, but he didn’t hurry him on. He waited patiently for Hanzo to get used to his thickness and length and slide down a little further, then pause, then slide down, until soon Hanzo’s ballsack draped over Cole’s pubes, and Cole’s cock was fully sheathed in Hanzo.

They were both breathing heavily, and sweat dripped down Hanzo’s skin, trailing down his forehead and chest and stomach as he shifted in place, feeling his body stretch and relax in order to accommodate Cole, his own cock leaking like a sieve. 

Just when he was nearly ready, he felt Cole take his cock in hand at the base, his fingers not quite touching around his girth, and he gently pumped him a couple of times.

“You feel incredible,” Cole whispered reverently.

Hanzo smiled as the last of his body’s resistance melted away, leaving nothing but the pleasant buzz of fullness. “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he replied, mimicking Cole’s accent. “And now, stallion, we ride.”

He closed his eyes and pictured himself on horseback, going at an easy pace, and began working himself up and down on Cole’s cock as though he were bouncing lightly in his imagined saddle, getting speared quickly yet shallowly.

“Wow,” Cole breathed.

Without breaking his rhythm, Hanzo opened his eyes and reached up to tip his hat. “How’s the pace, wild stallion? Should we kick up into an easy trot?”

Cole’s eyes shone with erotic amusement. “You tell me, cowboy. You’re in charge. You’re riding me.”

Hanzo grinned and did indeed pick up the pace, but imagining a fast trot instead of an easy one, and Cole actually went a little cross-eyed at the feel of his cock sliding further out of and deeper into Hanzo’s heat, the two of them bouncing on the mattress. 

Hanzo, on the other hand, was enjoying the glide and the fullness of the cock rubbing so deliciously against his innards, but the feel of the chaps, so loose and soft around his legs yet leaving his cock free to jump and wobble with each movement, was a novelty that he found he greatly enjoyed.

Then he leaned over and Cole smiled up at him and puckered his lips slightly, expecting a kiss.

Then Hanzo broke into a “gallop”.

Cole gasped and gaped up at him as Hanzo jackhammered his hips up and down, leaning forward with a savage grin as though he was tearing across the prairie at full sprint on his “horse”.

Despite the concentration it required to keep up the brutal pace, he couldn’t fail to notice the strange feeling that started to build up in his groin. His dick, though untouched, was tingling at both the head and at its base…no, not at the base, within him, the two sensations spreading out to engulf the length of his dick and then his entire pelvis. What was…?

Then, with a surge of exhilaration in his chest, he realized he was slamming Cole’s cock into himself so fast and hard that he was going to come untouched.

Buoyed by the revelation, he snatched his cowboy hat off his head and waved madly above his head.

“Fuck!” Cole gasped, his eyes wide at the sight. “Fuck! Fuck! Darling! Ride me! Ride me! I’m gonna! I’m gonna! Yes!”

“Yes!” was all Hanzo could reply before he threw his head back and yelled wordlessly.

Cum exploded into him and out of him in the same instant as Hanzo and Cole were simultaneously rocked by their orgasms.

“Darling! Sugar! Oh! Honey! I’m! Oh! Darling!” Cole blabbered as he tried to thrust up into Hanzo as deep as he could go.

Hanzo had no words. He just let out meaningless grunts and half-formed, guttural noises as he sprayed cum everywhere, onto Cole’s hairy belly and chest, onto Cole’s face and beard, on the sheets surrounding them, everywhere.

Then, the strength of his body taken up entirely by the strength of his orgasm, he dropped his hat off to one side and slumped forward onto Cole’s torso, smearing himself with his own cum and trapping his own cock between their bodies.

He lay there, eyes wide open yet unseeing, as Cole shuddered and panted underneath him, pumping cum deep, deep into him as his cock continued spurting, forcing semen between them as they lay pressed together, skin-to-skin.

Slowly, slowly, their orgasms subsided, leaving them drained, exhausted, euphoric.

Cole was the first to regain his senses, and he wrapped his arms, warm flesh and cold metal, around Hanzo. “My god,” he murmured, sweeping his hands up and down Hanzo’s sweaty back. “My god.”

“Mmm…?” hummed Hanzo, Cole’s word rousing him out of a pleasant, heady mindfog. 

“You have no idea,” Cole said quietly and adoringly, “how good you looked up there, waving your hat around like that. My god, Hanzo. You just about killed me, you looked so good. Like sex personified.”

Hanzo smiled and kissed the skin beneath him. “And you, stretched out beneath me and so far inside of me. I have never cum handsfree like that in my life. Never. You felt exquisite, and looked even better.”

“Aw, shucks,” Cole said, half jokingly, half bashfully. 

“I fear,” Hanzo said, after a few minutes of comfortable, silent afterglow, “that I may have gotten your hat after all.”

“Nope, not a drop, darling. See?”

Hanzo looked up, and Cole was holding his hat aloft to show that it was untouched, but Hanzo hardly saw it.

Instead he saw just how much of his semen had splashed over and still clung to Cole’s face, a fat white drop hanging off his beard just below the faint scar that ran across his lips.

Hanzo reached up, caught Cole’s hat out of his fingers, and plunked it on his head.

He scrutinized the resulting tableau, Cole’s handsome face framed by the wide brim of his hat, and covered with Hanzo’s cum.

He hadn’t been lying before when he said cowboys weren’t his fetish…but it would truly be a lie now.

[missyourflight]

we're doing this again! here are some of the things i read/watched in feb:

dopesick: not sure how i feel about the mix of real/created characters! a lot of the sackler stuff i was familiar with from empire of pain (more on patrick radden keefe later) (relatedly i'm so eager for the nan goldin doc to be streaming over here), some great performances, also doesn't disney have money for better wigs?

happy valley (s3): as a nation we don't deserve sarah lancashire. magnificent television!! good thing f1 is coming back so i can continue to experience tension on sundays etc

lovecraft country: i got myself into a whole jonathan majors situation just in time for creed iii and this was Wild. i wasn't always in love with it but it took some massive swings and honestly reminded me a tiny bit of doctor who just in like the genre-of-the-week approach. also wunmi mosaku, my beloved

justified (s3): as ever this should just be the boyd/raylan show. jfc but raylan is bad at his job. i'm torn re: the progressively more deranged gay antagonist bc he was kind of fun but also whew @ some of those backstory elements

full swing: golf to survive! i didn't know any of these men apart from rory mcilroy! bit of a mixed bag but i loved joel dahmen and his caddy and also matt fitzpatrick, tiny stats nerd from sheffield. lol forever @ zak and lando's golf friend defecting to the sketchy saudi tour etc, like fucking obviously

the green ray: woof a bit close to home! aching for connection, crying on holiday... rohmer girl summer forever in my heart

scream 4: just fine until it goes gleefully Bonkers in the last act

scream 5: last act not as much fun as scream 4, jack quaid is charming, weirdly i found some of the stabbings like off-puttingly intense?

great freedom: this was wonderful and i cried. almost shockingly tender at times and just like, we have always been here? franz rogowski is remarkable and i can't wait to see him in passages (ben whishaw basically doing the andrew scott role from cock 14 years on?? i mean)

devotion: see above re: ongoing jonathan majors situation, thought he was beautiful in this, loved the partnership w glen powell. there's a part that's like you think is going to play out like top gun maverick and then it doesn't because it's based on a true story (why is joe jonas here)

magic mike's last dance: obviously doesn't approach the heights of xxl but channing is still so fucking charming (why is she's the man not streaming anywhere here. i need it). i saw it with some friends and one of them was sad afterwards bc her husband never dances with her - not to be like are straight people okay, but are you?

creed: i am not well versed in the rockyverse lore but i Need to see creed iii due to the jonathan majors situation and i really liked this! mbj charming, i do not care for boxing as a sport but ryan coogler can really move a camera, also pleasantly surprised by the liverpool of it all??

creed ii: this was fine! the fighting didn't have anywhere near the impact of the first one bc this director is not as talented as ryan coogler

patrick radden keefe, rogues: really enjoying this collection of some of his new yorker profiles. listening on audio and i feel like it's kind of rare for a non-fiction author to read their own work this well? also this month i listened to his wind of change podcast (was not prepared for the tommy vietor cameo lol) which was a lot of fun but took a lot of time to not really answer the question

[siremasterlawrence]

A.I. A

Part 1 - 3

Here it is the first official highly automatized unit base of bone, blood, and skin so rare.

I smirk knowing this process will literally be the change the world needs.

I smirk as the interface comes to alive with a few simple code I programmed.

The interface comes to life a million little bits of screens forming in to one mega one.

A face begins to form one whom through shall we see efficient means is created.

The new being smiles gratefully at me with a ridiculously cute and obnoxiously sweet smile.

I take a deep breath weighing in on my truly

magnificent achievement.

This is unprecedented so with a heavy heart I sigh clicking a button as the process bas begun.

Inside the pod next to the a green I can see a load of clay descending in to the mold.

The clay sinks in to the machine as a array of electrical flow produces out put in to the pod.

The prototype flaxes out as the top of the mold comes crashing down closing it.

“Excellent! This is only the beginning of it all truly.”

“This creation shall be the first of many my own army:”

The top lifts off the mold revealing my pretty boy creation and it is a sight to behold.

“Simply beautiful” I say helping him out of the pod.

Part 4 - 6

“While I do love your clothes, I have a job for you.”

“Of course sire, but I don’t want to leave your side.”

“Put those close away, here this will suffice for now go get dressed in the new duds.”

“As you wish sire”

“Great! This packet will explain everything read it and absorb all of the information.“

“Wow this is fucking amazing”

“My name is Officer Rick Cosnett”

“I am at your disposal”

“Use me as you wish”

“How may I serve you?”

“Sire, I love you with all my soul”

“You have my heart and soul”

“Go infiltrate the precinct and do your fist shift.”

“I will miss you sire”

“Sir Yes Sir”

Part 7 - 10

Rick ha slept me abreast of everything so fill with utter joy at my victory.

“A few sexy pics of your cops”

“Good boi”

He puts the cellphone away making his way to the boxing bag.

He starts to lose his mind pounding the bag over and over.

“If I can keep them busy for awhile Master will be pleased.”

“Oh right of course.”

He sneaks off to the side playing a call to the office anonymously.

The Officer race out as he sneaks in to the file cabinet.

“Soon I will complete my mission”

“All he wants to do is the specs of this place”

“Also the psychological aspects”

“He will build his own profile”

“Will I?”

“Of course”

“Oh Master!”

“It is complete”

“They are heading back by now”

“I just need to rig this shit”

Kaboom

The end

Please check out all four stories I posted today thank you.

[donald4spiderman]

Ok hear me out. Spencer is dating Reader and she’s always hated that she’s been more chubby/curvy. And one night in the middle of a case she calls him crying and Spencer just gets really soft and calms her down after a bad nightmare. And his heart breaks cause his loving girlfriend hates her body. So Spencer plans this elaborate date and proposes maybe? You can decide if the team have met her or not. I’d like it to be the original team but if you wanna combine the original and new teams together that’s cool too!

no bc my body image issues have been rampant lately so this is personal as hell to me. I work out a lot and i’m fit but i’ve never been SKINNY like i have thick legs and muscular arms andnnfnfjndjnffn so this is personal.

I modified this a bit but it’s still the same premises hope you like it! ***BTW IN THIS UNIVERSE THE S3-7 CAST EXISTS FOR THE ENTIRE SHOW— SO THE LATER SEASONS HAVE MORGAN AND HOTCH.

also sorry this is a long

TW: body image issues, discussions of food & weight, insecurity, crying, kissing

WC: 1.5k

-

You know, pragmatically, that you have nothing to worry about. Spencer chose you. And for the past four years, Spencer has worshipped you every day— again and again. He is the most loving, considerate, and tender partner you could ever wish for. He is near perfection.

You’ve met Spencer's friends many times. You’re not close with either of your parents, so the team of profilers welcomed you into their arms with grace and care. Each and every one of them is beautifully amazing and exceptionally brilliant.

Spencer‘s friends are not only badass, but they’re also gorgeous. JJ, Emily, and Garcia are national treasures— so visually stunning it’s almost sickening.

You knew he used to have a crush on JJ way before he met you. You’ve also heard the tale of Lila Archer, the celebrity actress who made out with your boyfriend in a pool. Spencer’s had an eventful life, full of beautiful, sweet, magnificent women— so why does he choose you?

You view yourself as bland in comparison. What do you have to offer Spencer that he can’t find elsewhere? You don’t have toned abs, slim hips, and slender arms. You’re not striking in any way.

Spencer calls you every night when he’s away on a case. He’s never missed a call, even when he got shot in the neck and kidnapped by a murderous cult. He’s reliable and consistent, and that eases your worries a little bit.

It’s eleven pm in D.C. and your phone rings right as your getting in bed.

“Hi, my love,” Spencer says breathily, his voice slightly muffled by the phone. He’s away in Ohio for a case.

“Hey.” You reply, the sweetness in his voice soured by your mood. “How’s the case going?”

“Good. JJ and I are about to pass out in our beds— we’re so tired.”

You can’t help the way your face drops. “Oh. Well, get rest.”

Your about to hang up before he interjects. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?” You know better than to lie to your boyfriend, who happens to be an expert on human behavior.

“Okay, I know a lie when I hear one. (Y/N), baby, what’s wrong?” He pleads.

You can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek. “God, I’m sorry. I just miss you so much. You always know what to do when I’m feeling like shit.”

Spencer knows how much you struggle with self and bodily acceptance. He hates the world for making you feel anything less than incredible, both inside and out.

“I miss you too, so much, (Y/N).” His voice is thick as if he’s going to start crying too. “I love you so much, so fucking much. You have no idea how beautiful and amazing you are.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He laughs through a sob that wrecks his body. “You deserve everything in this world. I promise to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You are the love of my life.”

You wipe the tears from underneath your eyes. “Sorry for keeping you up. You must be tired.”

“Never, if it means I get to talk to you.”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). More than you’ll ever know.”

-

Spencer wakes up the next day with a newfound determination. The team solves the case as fast as possible, and by the end of the night, they’ve boarded the jet back home.

Spencer has more than enough hours to think about you and how much you mean to him. Hotch is seated directly across from him, rereading the case files.

“Hotch?” The wiser man looks up from his files, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer pauses for a moment. Maybe he’d be better asking Morgan or JJ for advice, considering Hotch’s tragic circumstances regarding Haley.

But no one loves like Hotch does-- sincerely, passionately-- stronger than anything else in the world. Spencer decides there’s no one better to ask.

“How uh did you know that Haley was the one?”

Hotch’s eyes soften for a bit. He clears his throat. “I knew since the day I met her that I would love her for the rest of my life unconditionally. She makes me complete. Do you feel that (Y/N) makes you complete?”

He already knows why Spencer is asking for his advice, steering the conversation in that direction.

“Yes. She’s my world.” Spencer whispers.

“Then it’s simple, really. Love doesn’t need to be complicated and precise. It’s what you do with it that matters.”

“I want to marry her, Hotch. I want to be with her for the rest of my life.”

Hotch smiles, “Then do it.”

Spencer feels the rush of excitement as he gathers everyone on the jet, including the prior sleeping passengers, filling them in on his big plans.

“I need all of your guys’ help.”

-

There’s a firm knock on your door at four in the morning. You know it isn’t Spencer because he has a key, but who could it be?

You take a cautious look out of your peephole to find Penelope, Emily, and JJ outside.

“What are you guys doing here?” You yawn. “For god's sake, it’s four am.”

“We know, and we’re sorry.” Penelope smiles.

“Is Spencer alright?” You ask, wondering if things suddenly went wrong during the case.

But by the joyous look on their face, you know nothing somber occurred.

“Spencer’s completely fine. But, we need to you to get changed and come with us. FBI’s orders.” JJ chuckles.

You change into warmer clothes in minutes, and the BAU ladies usher you into Emily’s car as fast as possible.

“So, no ones gonna tell me what’s going on?”

They shake their heads, “We’re just... running a quick errand.”

After a few more minutes of driving, Emily parks on the side of a dimly lit street.

“I need you to put this on.” She says, holding up a blindfold.

“Are you guys gonna murder me?” You joke, slipping the fabric over your eyes with little resistance.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” You don’t have time to think about what Penelope means before you’re being yanked out of the car.

You walk, guided by JJ, for four minutes. The grass beneath you crushes below your boots, and the hushed whispers of Emily and Penelope behind you do nothing to calm your nerves.

“Okay,” JJ says, halting to a stop. “You can take off your blindfold now.”

You hesitantly slip the blindfold off, revealing a brightly lit table in the middle of a secluded field. Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi are standing off to the sides.

Suddenly, Spencer emerges from behind a tree, dusting the leaves and dirt off his adorable sweater.

“Hi?” You laugh, utterly confused by this situation. “What’s going on?”

His hands are shaking, and he has to swallow a few times before he can speak. “I-I uh got y-you apple pie— uh your favorite.”

Spencer walks you towards the table, where a small slice of warm pie sits lonely on the table.

“Y-you should um... eat it.” He urges, pointing at the knife and fork next to it.

You glance around, trying to gauge the emotions of everyone around you, but fail. Stupid profilers and their poker faces.

Your fork cuts into the heavenly smelling pie, and you scoop up a bite into your mouth.

“It’s... good? I’ll pretty much eat any pie you give me, Spencer.”

He smiles, “I know that. But t-this is a special pie.”

“Okay...”

“You should t-take a closer look— at the pie.”

You inspect the dessert, completely puzzled until a glinting piece of silver catches your eye. Spencer notices the shock in your face and catches the plate that almost falls out of your hand.

Morgan hands him a napkin, and when Spencer pulls an apple-covered ring from the slice of pie, you almost faint.

“No way.” You gasp; tears spring to your eyes as Spencer wipes the ring clean.

He holds it tightly between two fingers, bending to kneel on one knee.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), I knew from the moment I met you that you were the most special woman I’d have the pleasure of meeting. A month later, you asked me out for our first date, and I couldn’t believe that someone as gorgeous and amazing as you would settle for someone like me.” You scoff at his humility.

“I spend every moment loving every part of you, (Y/N). None of my love will ever stop— ever. I promise to share my heart with you until the very end. There is absolutely no one I would rather be bonded to for the rest of my life. You are better than my dream girl because you’re real. You’re here, and you chose to love me every day— the good, the bad, and the ugly. (Y/N), will you do me the honor and great privilege of allowing me to become your husband?” You silently sob.

“Please say yes.” Spencer smiles.

“Yes!” You exclaim, pulling him up to hug him. “How could I say anything but!”

The dam breaks, and the entire team begins to cry as you and Spencer share a passionate kiss, almost collapsing down onto the grass from the sheer force of your love. He slips the ring onto your finger; it belongs there.

“I choose you, (Y/N).” He repeats.

“I choose you, Spencer, always.” You whisper into the crook of his neck.

Nothing’s ever felt so right.

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Hi ! I've seen that your request are open so here's mine for mister Park Jimin or Kim Taehyung, whatever you prefer !

So like, It would a scenario where the reader starts sending letters to one of them that is in prison for whatever reasons (it's up to you), and they start falling in love through these letters until they finally meet in real life when he gets out. And if you'd like, maybe things can get a little (a lot) freaky once they reunite. But overall it would be a fluffy love story :)

Thank you in advance if you decide to write it ! Hope it was clear enough...(I love your writing by the way <3)

Not me calling my dad (who is a lawyer) to ask for legal advice over this lol

Also I did Jimin because I have lots of Tae requests on my to-do list

A crime by law but not by morals. You were looking through the profiles of the prisoners that wanted a pen-pal —just because your friend had mentioned the organization and you were curious— when an inmate caught your eye. He caught your eye because he was undoubtedly the most handsome man you had ever seen; face so ethereal it made you wonder if he was human or a fairy. And when you dug through his profile a bit more, you found about the reason for his incarceration. Young man hits his father after years of physical and mental abuse towards him and his mother, ends up giving him a fractured neck that needs multiple surgeries to be fixed. Court rules it was not done in defense, because the young man came home to find his mother having just been thrown down the stairs, meaning he wasn’t present for the violent act and therefore he acted out of malice. Five years in prison.

His name was Park Jimin. And be it his majestic beauty or the injustice you felt for him upon reading his file, you decided to send him a letter. You didn’t know what you expected in his response —if you even got one of those— but it was definitely not one of the sweetest letters you had ever read. Thanking you for the gesture like it was the best thing that had happened to him the past two years he was in there. Immediately sharing with you his interests, like his passion for dancing and singing, as well as his love for drawing, taking the liberty to include a small piece of art he had created in the letter. Which was phenomenal. I know you might not believe me, but I’m actually a great dancer. And to prove it to you, here are some scribbles of me dancing.

He wanted to know all about you. And by the way he wrote, you knew you wanted to get to know him better as well. He was so funny, nice, smart, understanding… A perfect man trapped away that you could only talk to via those letters. A perfect friend. I have made a couple of friends here, but by far the best acquaintance has been you. And perhaps even more. I saw a dream about you last night. It was a nice dream because I could touch you. Time passed and you went from smiling at receiving his letters to verging on addicted to them.

I wish I could meet you. Perhaps… one day…

That day finally arrived three years after you first started corresponding, and by then Jimin knew you were waiting for him; you knew he was counting the days even more than he was already. He asked you for a few days to visit his mother and find his old self back before seeing you. And you had agreed to meet at a specific diner, on a specific day, at a specific time. And knew that if one of you didn’t show up, you would probably lose touch forever. You tried not to think about that as you sat and waited, butterflies in your stomach absolutely killing you. The door opened and closed, the little bell over it ringing and signaling people’s arrival, yet never the one person’s you wanted.

“Sorry I’m late—” a sweet voice gasped next to you, “—but apparently there’s been changes to the public transports since I’ve been gone and I got a bit lost.”

You blinked at the man. Park Jimin. That was Park Jimin, right? The ethereal face you couldn’t stop thinking about, yet could have never imagined it would be even better up close. The chirpy voice you had tried to guess many times but never got so close to how at home this one made you feel. The smile, a smile that definitely lived up to his corny jokes, and his eyes that found yours, never to let go again. He was right in front of you and you couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say.

“Hi…” you panted.

And his smile grew. “Hi.”

There was just a second of uncertainty, perhaps even awkwardness, before you both leaned in for a hug— a hug was appropriate after three years of talking and never seeing each other, right? A hug was appropriate after you had confessed to each other in every way other than the physical yet? He smelled like a fairy, flowers and scents of emotions of love filling your body as you held him as tightly as you could. Like you were afraid he would slip between your fingers, or you would wake up alone in your bed all of a sudden.

But none of that happened. Jimin sat with you and you had dinner together. It didn’t flow as easily as your letters did, but neither had such expectations when you were too busy battling the heat growing in your chest and he was too busy blushing with every compliment. “I’m sorry, I haven’t done this in a while…” This? “A date.”

It’s not like it was planned for you to kiss him before going into your apartment that night —I mean, you had definitely daydreamed about it enough times, but you understood why something like that might take some time. But it happened naturally, it would have been more awkward to prevent it. His lips soft against yours, even when things got more heated and his teeth bump into yours like he had forgotten how to do this. You pulled him in through the door and it was the most natural thing.

“I’ve missed you so much, even if this is the first time I see you.” You knew he meant it by the way his breathing was all over the place and you had barely even taken your shirt off. You struggled to find beautiful words like his, even if what you felt inside you was undoubtedly the most magnificent thing ever. But he understood you even if all you could do was kiss him. The moans that were born and died in between your lips told him all he needed to know.

“I can’t wait to have you in my life.” It was good enough, he seemed pleased enough. Happy enough to flip you on your back and change your positions at which you were making love, plunging into you as he held you as close as possible, mouth never leaving yours. A position normally so bland, yet so powerful when it’s with the person you love. He was whiny in your ear, almost crying about how good it felt to finally have you the way he wanted, to feel you, touch you, kiss you, fuck you. Love you. Jimin promised he wasn’t ever going to leave your life as he came, and you promised you wanted nothing more than to be with him as you found your own release. Confessing to each other in the physical sense for once, all throughout the night and the rest of the nights that were to come.

Park Jimin. Finally, in your arms.

Masterlist | Moodboard

[jemmahazelnut]

Dark Écriture

Summary: The magic swelled in him, draining his energy. It was more powerful than any of his previous spells. More terrible than the rune of pain, more sinister than darkness, more vigorous than the rune of fear. It was pure evil and Freed was beginning to enjoy it, knowing full well the spell would end too quickly to relish it.

Or: the story of how Freed lived with his demonic magic over the years. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, unnamed character deaths, morally ambiguous actions.

Notes: This is a story about Freed, his dark past and his cruel side.

Thanks to oofenflugen who has beta read my fanfic. Without his help I would never have published it. Check out his blog @cygnus-arts to see his art. He also has a profile on AO3 oofen_flugen where you can find his fanfics.

Hope you like it!

Dark Écriture

-Year X777, Dark Écriture: Death-

(16-year-old Laxus, 13-year-old Freed)

Freed had promised not to do it again. He promised it only a few months earlier, but there was no way he could keep that promise to the Master. Not when he saw those children locked up in the cells and the instruments of torture surrounding them, not when he saw the man’s cruel face, not when he heard the whimpering of the children. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hold back his strength, much less the hatred that was beginning to rise and fill him.

Freed almost didn’t realize it, but he subconsciously raised his sword in front of him. He hardly noticed the way the Master’s grandson stared at him. He almost didn’t realize the demonic aura that enveloped him and choked the oxygen in the room. Mentally, he knew it was happening. He knew that he was breaking a promise he had made, and in doing so, he was doing something terrible that -maybe, just maybe- he would regret. But he couldn’t afford to worry about it.

The magic swelled in him, draining his energy. It was more powerful than any of his previous spells. More terrible than the rune of pain, more sinister than darkness, more vigorous than the rune of fear. It was pure evil and Freed was beginning to enjoy it, knowing full well the spell would end too quickly to relish it.

His magic caused his hair to rise. Freed's fringe lifted and exposed his face, leaving his black eye uncovered. His body burned, and he felt the pure hatred concentrated in his eye. His mind focused on a single thought.

“Death,” Freed hissed, unconsciously, as if his lips had moved on their own.

A deadly silence fell. It was as if the whole world had been silent for a moment. He no longer heard the whimpering children, the fighting upstairs, the voice of the guild leader, or that of the Master’s son. He heard nothing, and it was unreal.

A moment later the magic shot out with all its power out of his body, passed his guildmate, and struck the enemy. The dark wizard clawed at his chest, desperately trying to breathe. His body twitched, and he fell back to the ground, continuing to jerk, causing his leg to thump erratically against the wall. It was a terrible sight, and Freed was enjoying every moment of it. The dark mage's eyes filled with terror and widened. His drool poured and mixed with his blood staining the floor. The veins in his neck swelled.

It was magnificent. It was what Freed wanted, pure evil. It was what the man deserved.

It ended too quickly. In a few seconds, the man stilled, reducing himself to a corpse. Freed’s magic faded, and the ambiance of the room returned. The distant sounds of fighting and whimpering only brought Freed exhaustion.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, sword slipping from his fingers, forcing Freed to lean on his hands. Even if the spell had only lasted for a few seconds, Freed felt as if he had been fighting for hours. Sweat coated his body, and he struggled to catch his breath.

He couldn’t see the shocked gaze of the Master’s son. Freed didn't bother to check that the man was dead. He knew it was impossible.

He tried to stand up but staggered, exhausted in a way he’d only experienced a few times before.

“You killed him,” said the Master’s son. Freed smiled. Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, I did, and it was wonderful. Instead, Freed stood silently, realizing what Laxus Dreyar must be thinking.

No. It wasn’t okay. He had to go back, back to a safe place, go back to being Freed Justine. He was no longer Freed the Dark. He was no longer a killer, no longer evil. He was a member of Fairy Tail.

That awareness immediately brought him back down to earth, and he felt nausea rise in him. What had he done? He advanced towards Dreyar but staggered again and was forced to lean against the bars of a cell while he tried to regain his strength and balance.

He had broken a promise. The only promise he had made to the Fairy Tail Master. He had broken it within a few months. What the hell had he done? He began to feel the terror rising in his back, terrified that everything he had done to change had been in vain. Nausea made him double over, and Freed coughed with tears stinging his eyes.

He was a monster. A killer. Just a cursed child.

He heard Dreyar’s footsteps approaching, and Freed looked up, swallowing hard.

“I’ll take responsibility for everything,” Freed said, petrified to hear his guildmate's incoming judgment, Dreyar, however, tilted his head to the side, his eyes glittering with curiosity.

“How did you do it?” he asked.

Freed blinked in confusion.

“Excuse me?”.

“What spell is that?” Dreyar asked again. “I want to learn it”.

Freed’s eyes widened and he took a step back, straightening his back and avoiding his gaze. Was he crazy?

“You don’t want to do that,” he said. There was no way that the Master’s grandson wanted to learn how to do something like this.

“I want to know what spell it is,” Dreyar insisted. Freed shook his head.

“You can’t learn it anyway. Magic is tied to my eye,” he said. He saw Dreyar grimace and Freed turned to the children who were still locked up and crying. “I’ll tell the Master personally, for now we have to free them.”

“You don’t need to tell the old man,” Dreyar retorted. “Besides, the bastard deserved it,” he added as he opened a cell. Freed gave him a surprised look, but he didn’t say anything else. The mission wasn’t over yet.

-Year X778, Dark Écriture: Darkness-

(17-year-old Laxus, 14-year-old Freed)

Freed wanted to stop. He wanted to cry, scream and stop those attacks. He wanted to kill that darkness, kill that agony, kill the feelings suffocating him. But the only thing he succeeding in killing, were his teammates. It didn’t matter how much he fought; it didn’t matter how much he tried to free himself from the grip. The darkness enveloped him, and he was sinking inside it, letting the demon prevail over him.

Freed felt tears sting his eyes but, he was unable to escape. He couldn’t even control the tears pooling at his chin. He couldn’t do anything; his body was completely out of his control. He could only watch. Watch and suffer from every blow Laxus dealt. Watch and suffer for every blow the demon dealt.

Freed felt small, helpless, useless. But he was just that. He was just a cursed child, just a monster, just a killer. Freed put his hands to his ears in an attempt to drown out the thoughts, but nothing could stop them. Now they were there, they were constantly repeating themselves, filling his brain, echoing through every nerve.

Stop it, stop it!

But they were right; he was a monster. A monster, a murderer, he deserved that pain, he deserved to die, he deserved to sink, he deserved to disappear.

“Fucking hell, do you wanna get goddamn control back?”

Freed heard a scream and saw flashes of electricity piercing him everywhere. They stung and burned, leaving him in excruciating pain. Freed opened his eyes biting back tears, only for another punch hit him, with Laxus’ magic building stronger and stronger in ever more acute pain.

“Stupid kid, what the fuck are you doing, huh?” the voice growled again, and Freed looked up, seeing his teammate keep fighting him. Laxus was right, what the fuck was he doing? Crying and letting the demon seize control? No, he was stronger than that, he was better than that. He wouldn’t let the demon kill his team. He was a member of Fairy Tail, the Captain of the Raijinshuu, the bodyguard of Laxus Dreyar. He had to protect all three. It was his promise. No matter what, he wasn’t going to kill them.

Freed scrambled to stand but was halted by another shock. He gritted his teeth trying to bear it best he could and tried to rise from the darkness. It swelled around him and pulled him down, leaving him suffocated in the darkness. But he could still reach towards the light. Freed knew it. There was always a way to escape.

He growled and forced himself back up, ignoring the pain of lightning and the burning. He just had to think about his teammates and the guild he was a part of. He had to think of his friends, Bickslow and Evergreen. Freed ascended and for a moment stopped the blow the demon wanted to throw, only to sink into its control again.

The demon struck once more. Laxus had wavered for a moment, and the demon was more than happy to take that opportunity. Freed gritted his teeth again, scrambling a second time. The demon was launching another attack but as soon as Freed regained control he held it back. He was already sinking again, but the shock of electricity convinced him to grit his teeth and stay aloft. Then he closed his eyes and pushed all the darkness into himself, into the back of his mind, into his heart, and his soul.

When he finally felt it grow small, he forced himself to open his eyes again, only to see two orange eyes staring at him doubtfully. Laxus had a ready fist with electricity crackling.

“Hope you’re you again,” he growled, and Freed nodded.

“I’m back,” he whispered and Laxus lowered his fist.

Freed realized that he was collapsed on the ground, Laxus at his side.

“Your demon is fucking awesome but you really have to learn to control it,” Laxus snapped as he walked away. Freed didn’t move. He still felt numb from the shocks, dizzy from the fight, and tired as if he had exhausted all of his energy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Bickslow and Evergreen rushed to his side and helped him sit up. Freed grimaced but held back a groan, even though he could feel injuries covering his skin. It wasn’t the first time he fought Laxus, but God, that was painful. Freed glanced at Laxus and noticed that his leg was injured.

Freed reached out to him.

“I’ll heal your wound,” he said, partly to apologize, partly because he felt guilty. Laxus gave him a dirty look.

“It’s nothing,” he retorted grumpily and stood up. Freed noticed that he was staggering a bit and felt even worse. However, he didn’t dare say anything knowing his pride. Laxus glanced at him as Freed got to his feet, aided by Bickslow and Evergreen. “You should fight with that demon more often, he’s fucking strong,” Laxus said with a grin.

Freed looked up with widening eyes, wondering if he was crazy.

“You saw what happens if I do.”

Laxus rolled his eyes and snorted and took a step toward him. Laxus was close, close enough that their foreheads were almost touching. Freed looked up.

“This happens because you don’t train, kid. You just have to get stronger than the demon, that’s why he takes control.” Laxus turned away and walked away. “Now let’s get this fucking reward, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Freed couldn’t argue and followed Laxus, refusing the help of Bickslow and Evergreen. As he watched the blond with admiration and respect, a thought formed in his head. Maybe Laxus wasn’t all wrong, maybe the only thing he needed to resist the demon was training.

-Year X781, Freed the Dark-

(20-year-old Laxus, 17-year-old Freed)

“For a kid who wants to follow the rules, you break them quite often.”

Freed’s head jerked up in surprise at the voice. Laxus Dreyar. How did he find him? Freed made sure he wasn’t being followed by anyone when he walked away from Magnolia.

“How did you find me?” he asked aloud this time.

“Easy, I saw that the mission I wanted to take was gone and that you were gone too,” Laxus explained, sitting beside Freed. “Now you have to explain to me why you took a class S mission, especially when you know it’s forbidden,” Laxus commented, crossing his arms behind his head and throwing him a curious look.

“I’ll take full responsibility for my actions,” Freed assured, deflecting the question and staring straight ahead. He didn’t plan on coming back. He would complete that mission at any cost.

“Not if you do it with me,” Laxus retorted. Freed remained silent, refusing to reveal his true motive. “Then I’ll guess,” the Dragon Slayer challenged, glancing at Freed from head to toe.

“You hide under a cloak, in the past this place was headed by Lord Justine, and the mission requires to break a demonic curse written in strange purple characters. I suppose you or your family created the curse, right?” he inquired, and Freed pursed his lips, nervous. The last thing Freed wanted was for anyone to know his past, or to know his family.

“So? Are you going to explain it or do I have to find out all by myself? Because I will,” Laxus challenged. Freed stared at his hands, peering at his guild mark. He knew that Laxus would find out. He was one of the most skilled wizards he knew, and not just physically. It didn’t take a genius to understand that this mission had to do with Freed or his family.

Freed sighed and then looked up at Laxus, who was watching him expectantly.

“Okay,” Freed said. “But you have to promise me that you’ll never tell anyone about it.” Laxus nodded and Freed resolved to speak.

“You’re right, I was the one who launched the curse five years ago. I lived in that villa with my parents” he said, indicating with a nod of his head the large villa located on the hill, surrounded by a black fog, the same one breathed into the city, and the reason the city had asked Fairy Tail for help. “I was part of the Justine family; my father was the lord. It’s not like they really headed over this city. Theoretically, they had no rights other than the territories behind the hill. However, they were feared by everyone for their strength,” he said. “And a few years ago,” he paused for a moment, uncertain. “A few years ago, there was a bad fight, which led to the birth of the curse,” he concluded.

Laxus raised an eyebrow and peered at him.

“I guess that’s not all,” he said. Freed looked away.

“Details aren’t important.”

Laxus snorted and stood up.

“Okay, then let’s go and destroy this curse. I guess I’ll find out of the rest when we get there.” Laxus started towards the hill and Freed hurried after him, making sure his cloak still covered his face well.

“We won’t go into the villa,” he objected.

“It’s not for you to decide” was the dry reply of Laxus.

-

Freed wasn’t satisfied. He had destroyed the curse in minutes. It was child’s play, but Freed certainly didn’t feel good at it. Since he created the curse, it was quite obvious that eliminating it would be easy. Revisiting the villa had brought back only old memories. Old and terrible memories, and in that moment, Freed had decided that he was going to destroy that house.

He had done it, now he could only look ahead of him at the rubble of what had once been his home. But he still wasn’t satisfied and wanted to let years of anger and fear out. He would eliminate his past, destroy it definitively, destroy every little existence of the Justines, destroy everything that bound him to that place, but he couldn’t do it. He growled as he put his hands on his thighs, exhausted from the amount of magic he had used. An exaggerated amount, since he could have destroyed that building with much less. But he needed to let off steam, and he still needed it.

A new wave of dark magic rose, but he felt Laxus’ hand rest on his shoulder and a felt slight jolt run through him.

“That’s enough,” he said. Freed turned to him, gritting his teeth.

“No,” he growled.

“By now you’ve nothing else to destroy. What you’re doing is pointless and senseless,” the Dragon Slayer retorted harshly. Freed pulled away from his hold.

“Pointless and senseless?” he repeated furiously and again a wave of energy surrounded him. “You’ve no idea what I had to go through, you’ve no idea how much I want to destroy everything here” he growled and Laxus looked at him with an indecipherable expression.

“Tell me then,” he said. Freed turned to the castle, refusing to do anything like that. Laxus wouldn’t have understood anyway, he doubted anyone could. Seeing the rubble and dirt he had raised pissed him off even more. Laxus was right. It was useless, destroying the castle wouldn’t change his past. It wouldn’t change who he had been, nor who he was at that moment.

Frustrated and furious, he collapsed to the ground, trembling and feeling a sudden urge to cry. He didn’t, because Laxus was there and he wouldn’t show himself so vulnerable. He was silent and strangely Laxus sat down next to him, staring at the rubble and silently lighting a cigar.

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Freed’s nerves compelled him to speak.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for the story” was the simple reply from Laxus, who glanced at him, throwing out a puff of smoke. “You hated your parents, didn’t you?”

“I hated my father,” Freed clarified. “I still hate him.”

“Parents can be assholes,” Laxus commented. “So, what did he do?”

Freed almost laughed. He mentally filed through the very long list of things his father had done and hadn’t. The longer he thought about his father the more he resented him, and the more he wanted to go back in time and exact revenge. Now that he was dead, Freed had lost his chance.

“My parents were mages, but they weren’t very powerful. However, they were both very fascinated by wealth and dark magic” he began to explain chronologically, despite the difficulties to remember it in order. Laxus let him speak and Freed continued, unsure why he was telling Laxus. He had never thought of confiding in anyone, and the Dragon Slayer certainly wasn’t his first choice. But he was here now.

“They did business with dark guilds. They found items for them and sold them, or they bought items to then resell to others. Our house was full of those things, and I was a curious child, I wanted to know more. I was fascinated by everything related to magic, so one day I opened a book and read a spell. There was a demon in that book, and I saw that with that spell I could capture his soul and have his magic. My father didn’t pay much attention to me, he thought I was just a child with no magical talent, no matter what I did. I wanted to prove otherwise, so I cast the spell and united our souls.”

“You were a child and was already able to do something like this?” Laxus asked.

“Yeah,” Freed replied. “I think I’ve already proven to be skilled,” he commented coldly and Laxus just gave a half-laugh, puffing more smoke and waving him on.

“It actually worked. I caught my father’s attention all too well. At first, I lost control and feared he would treat me even worse, but he didn’t. He saw potential and he decided to train me. I was very happy, so I did what he said,” Freed said and stopped for a moment, thinking about the training his father had forced him to do. He clenched his hands in two fists and a new wave of hatred overwhelmed him.

“I told you the Justine family was feared. Well, it was because of me. When someone dared to challenge my father, he would bring that person to me and tell me to torture or kill him. Every now and then he even made me do it in public, in the town square. Everyone began to fear him and my father was happy, he felt himself the master of the city” Freed stopped for a moment. “My mother wasn’t happy, and she told me it was wrong to do it, and I knew it. So, one day I refused and… my father blocked my magic and made me understand that refusing him wasn’t allowed, especially in front of other people”.

“Did he beat you?” Laxus asked.

“Yes,” was the dry reply and Laxus snorted.

“Asshole” he growled and Freed turned to him, feeling a little understood. Maybe that was the reason he was comfortable sharing with his teammate.

“My father became more pretentious and crueler. Both with the wizards of the dark guilds, with the city, and with us. I don’t know if it was the wealth or the amount of magical power, he had accumulated that drove him out of his mind, but it happened. And one day he killed my mother,” he said in a distant tone as if he wasn’t talking about his family but something foreign to him.

“I was there, the two of them were arguing because of me and then they started fighting. I knew my dad would win, but I was scared, so I didn’t even try to stop him. My mother was a good woman, I loved her, and since all the children in the city feared me, she was the only person I could have fun with. She was the only one who really loved me. She died because of me in front of my eyes, and I didn’t even try to save her,” he said coldly, reviewing the images of her in his head as if they were part of a movie. He would never forget his mother’s expression, her screams, her lifeless body.

“My father destroyed her body. When I realized she was dead I went mad and my demon took over. I tried to kill my father, but I was still too weak and he stopped me. My father locked me in a room for weeks, torturing me to make me understand who was in charge and what would happen if I failed his orders. I think that’s when I truly started to hate him.”

“I hated him. I hated him so much you can’t imagine. But instead of taking that anger out on him, I took it out on all the innocent people he brought in front of me. If I was hesitant to torture people before, at that moment I began to enjoy it. He was proud of me, but the more he was, the more I hated him”.

“I’ve never forgiven him. I’ve never forgotten that day, and for years I’ve prepared a revenge for him. I wanted to destroy him. But I didn’t want to just kill him, I wanted him to suffer, I wanted him to feel what I had felt all those years, what my mother had felt before she died. And I wanted to take everything away from him. So, I studied for a long time in the library, looking for the most frightening spells, until I found a forbidden curse”.

“This curse would have locked people into an eternal Hell. I was excited, I couldn’t wait to torture him and the men most trusted by him. I prepared everything in advance, away from everyone. I drew the runes around the entire villa. It took me half a year. Every time I thought about the final spell, I enjoyed the sights, I imagined my father’s expression, I imagined him crying, I wanted to make him cry.” Freed’s words poured out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“And finally, the day come. It didn’t go the way I wanted. Even though it had taken me half a year to prepare it, I wasn’t powerful enough. The curse hit my father and it worked. But for only three days. I stayed there for three days hearing my father’s screams and I was delighted. But after only three days he died, I no longer felt anything. I made sure he was really dead, and I was so angry that I destroyed his body. But I still wasn’t satisfied. But it was over now, I couldn’t do anything else. So, I left. I wanted to live in the city, but I heard what they said about me. They all hated me, they called me the monster, the cursed child or Freed the Dark. I left and vowed never to come back,” Freed concluded. Laxus was silent and Freed continued to stare at the rubble for a long time. No words were exchanged between the two.

“This mission was because of the curse. Something went wrong and filled the city with fog,” Freed explained after a while.

“Your father is even worse than mine,” Laxus commented and turned to him. “At least you managed to take revenge.”

“I don’t deserve to be part of Fairy Tail,” Freed murmured, sadness enveloping him.

“You do,” Laxus sternly retorted.

“I’m just a monster,” Freed sighed. Laxus snorted and put out his cigar.

“You’re not what your father decided for you,” Laxus consoled. “You’re much better, and you’ve already proved it. You deserve to be a part of Fairy Tail more than anyone else.” Freed turned to him, surprised at the statement said with complete certainty. Laxus had never been very sensitive, yet he was here. He had listened to him and hadn’t changed his mind about him. Indeed, he had Laxus’ respect and friendship, and it made Freed feel accepted and warm inside. Laxus put his hand on his shoulder.

“You’re a skilled wizard and a good person. And you’re so much better than anything your dad has ever led you to believe,” he added, and Freed could only look into his eyes, feeling overwhelmed by those words in a way that had never happened. “So don’t be ashamed of who you are. Take off this cloak and show that you’re different from your father,” Laxus said and stood up, holding out his hand. Freed took it and stood up without hesitation.

“Thanks,” Freed murmured. Laxus grinned.

“Although, I have to say, Freed the Dark sounds quite threatening. Maybe you should start using it.” Laxus started down the hill. Freed watched him for a while before following him, feeling his heart beating madly. If Laxus, the person who most represented Fairy Tail, told him that, then Freed had no doubt he was right.

I swear Laxus, you won’t regret putting your trust in me, Freed thought, as he walked beside him.

-Year X791, Dark Écriture: Fear-

(23-year-old Laxus, 20-year-old Freed)

The brush ran smoothly through the boy’s hair, who looked at himself in the mirror. He was sitting on the big mattress, and behind him, his mother was singing softly, fixing his hair. Freed hummed the melody to himself and moved his fingers to the rhythm of the song. When the woman put the brush on the bedside table, she smiled in the mirror.

“You like it?” she asked.

Freed ran a hand through his hair, which reached over his shoulders and shrugged.

“It’s just hair,” he said automatically. A phrase that his father constantly repeated every time he saw Freed brush it.

“You don’t like it?” the woman asked softly.

“Father doesn’t care” was the next automatic reply.

“Your father isn’t here,” the woman said and rested her chin on his shoulder. “What do you think about it?” she asked again. Freed observed himself for a long time in the mirror.

“I like it,” he said. His mother smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Then she sat cross-legged on the mattress and grabbed a large hardcover book. Freed turned to her, suddenly curious and excited.

“Will you read me a story?” he asked, and the woman nodded, smiling, looking down at the first page and beginning to read. Freed rested his head on the palms of his hands, curious about the new book.

His mother continued to read aloud, but it became a distant murmur. He heard a scream and then some crying and looked around, trying to understand the sudden foreboding changes. He turned to the mirror but didn’t see the reflection of a child, but that of a teenager. His hair now reached his waist, his face was sharper.

He turned back and was no longer in his room. He was in the garden of his villa, holding a sword. A woman in front of him was crying and pleading. Freed couldn’t understand what she was saying, but of one thing, he was sure. That woman was terrified, and she didn’t want to die. By now, however, her fate had been set.

Freed felt the darkness envelop him, the heat rising through his body. His right eye burned and all his muscles were tense. His lips moved on their own and a single word came out.

“Death,” he whispered.

For a moment, silence fell around him. He no longer heard screams, no tears, no pleas. It was an abnormal silence as if the whole world had fallen silent. The woman put her hands to her chest, winced a couple of times with wide eyes, and then fell back to the ground. A helpless body with a blank expression on her face. Her eyes were full of the terror that had struck her in the moments before death took her.

Freed looked at her and lowered his sword, exhaustion hitting him suddenly. His energy disappeared, and he collapsed. But he didn’t have to. He could stay up, stand up, he didn’t have to let him down.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you,” his father said.

Freed raised his head. Two large bright green eyes met his. The little girl was screaming.

“Mom! Mom!” she screamed and Freed stepped back.

“Murderer! Murderer!” the little girl screamed. Freed backed away and crashed into a wall.

“You’re a killer! Give me back my mom!” she kept screaming and Freed wanted to run away. He turned but couldn’t run anywhere. In front of him was the body of Cana, lying in the rubble. Freed stopped and the sword fell from his hands. He was shaking. He wanted to turn around and leave and never return. But he knew that if he did it, it would be worse. That something even worse would happen. The darkness would follow.

As if forced to do so, his face turned to the right. Elfman was there, also lying on the ground. He was perfectly still; his chest was covered with the rune that had killed him. Above him, Mirajane was crying, and she was screaming, and her screams filled his ears.

“Murderer! Murderer!” Freed desperately turned, tried to escape, but stumbled through the rubble, fell to the ground and sank, under the earth. It was all dark, and he felt lost. He tried to fly. He had to get out of there. He had to escape. He had to find a way back home. But something was holding him down.

“Freed” the voice calmed him instantly. Freed turned and was greeted by Laxus.

“Freed,” he repeated, and Freed tried to get closer.

“Laxus, I’m sorry,” Freed breathed through tears.

“You killed him.”

Freed stopped short and Laxus looked away. Whatever void Freed had fallen into had vanished, and he was back down on earth. He was in the center of Fiore’s arena. And in front of him, there was another dead body. Ivan. His armor was shattered; his body was full of wounds. Blood stained the ground beneath him. His eyes were wide with pain and fear. Freed took a step back.

“You killed him,” Laxus said.

Freed looked up, perhaps for a savior, or any sense of peace, but in the stands, there were members of Fairy Tail. They hated him, everyone hated him. He caught the Master’s furious gaze and Freed was still under his glare.

Makarov raised his hand and a powerful light radiated from his palm, Freed tried to bring his arms in front of him to defend himself, pleaded that it wasn’t him, but it was useless. He was outnumbered and outmatched when everything went white.

-

Freed jumped up, his heart pounding in his chest and sweat sticking his clothes to his body. Terror ran through him and Freed inhaled deeply to attempt to calm himself.

‘It was a nightmare,’ he thought. ‘It was just a nightmare’ But it didn’t help him, because he knew it wasn’t just a nightmare. Because he knew he had really killed that woman years ago. Because he knew he had risked killing Elfman and Cana. Because he knew that when he saw Ivan in the arena, he felt that sudden desire to let himself go to the darker side. Because he wanted to kill the father of the person he loved.

Freed put a hand to his chest feeling his still racing heart. He wanted to throw up and cry.

“Freed, are you okay?”

Freed looked up suddenly. It was Laxus. The boy sat by the fire they had built on their way home from a mission. Freed scanned their campsite. There were two sleeping bags, the small fire, and their backpacks placed on the ground. They had decided to walk home so that Laxus wouldn’t have to take the train.

“Freed?” Laxus called him and Freed turned to him and smiled slightly to reassure him.

“I’m fine, I just had a nightmare,” he explained as he stood up and got out of the sleeping bag. He realized that his clothes were indeed damp with sweat and his hair was sticking to his neck and his clothes.

“You’ve been getting them a lot recently, is something bothering you?” Laxus asked. Freed shook his head.

“No,” he replied simply and sat next to him in front of the fire, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. But Laxus was right, he had been having nightmares for weeks, about his past, about his mother, about the people he had killed, about the people he could have killed, and about the ones he wanted to kill.

He'd had nightmares in the past, namely the Battle of Fairy Tail, and just as he finally began to overcome them, the Grand Magic Games brought them back in full force. And as much as he wanted to banish those thoughts, he just couldn’t seem to do it.

He felt Laxus’ arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t you want to talk about it?” he asked and Freed closed his eyes, leaning against him and closing his eyes. Talk about it with him, of all people? He who had asked him to kill his guildmates? He who was the son of the man Freed wanted to torture to death?

“No,” he said, “I’ll pass.”

He felt Laxus’s gaze fixed on him and his arm comforting him.

“You said my name,” the blond said, and Freed stiffened. “You said my name and then yelled that you weren’t the one who killed them,” he said tonelessly. “You know, I’ve never thought about it too much but I can’t believe I asked you to do something like that. I used you like your father did and I’m sorry. I know you’ll never forgive me but…”.

“I’ve already done that,” Freed said. “We’ve already talked about it. I forgave you Laxus, completely. The only person I haven’t forgiven is myself”.

“My fault,” Laxus murmured.

“No,” Freed tried to say reassuringly. “Laxus, darkness has been with me for a lifetime, it wasn’t you who pulled it out, it wasn’t you who put it in, and it wasn’t you who made me hate it,” he said forcefully. “You helped me instead to make me accept it as part of me, and even though I’m still working on it, it’s to your credit that I can now control the demon. It’s to your credit if I don’t feel horrible for everything I’ve done”.

“But you still have nightmares about the battle of Fairy Tail,” Laxus muttered and Freed shook his head.

“Trust me, that’s not the cause of my nightmares,” he said.

“So, what’s it?” Laxus asked.

Freed didn’t answer. He stared into the flames in front of him while he thought back to the nightmare he had had, the destroyed body of Ivan, the pleas of that woman. Freed didn’t think those nightmares would ever go away, but that wasn’t Laxus’s fault, it was the fault of the darkness that accompanied him and the evil he was hiding and that he was trying to control.

“My greatest fear” he answered simply. He let himself be enveloped by his friend’s embrace.

-Year X793, Dark Écriture: Suffering-

(25-year-old Laxus, 22-year-old Freed)

Freed could still hear the screams of terror of the enemies. He could still hear their pleas and their cries, their prayers, and their despair. And the more he heard them, the better he felt. The more he heard them, the more satisfaction grew inside him. The more he looked at their faces full of terror and pain, the more his soul laughed. There was no escape from that rune and Freed enjoyed every single moment of it.

He wanted it. He wanted to make them feel small. He wanted to make them feel powerless; he craved their terror. He wanted to make them pay for everything they did to his teammates. He wanted them to feel the way they did. He wanted to hear them pray for death. At that point, perhaps Freed would have satisfied them. Though he probably wouldn’t have indulged them.

They deserved it; they had asked for it. They had mistreated his comrades and still had laughed at it. They had enjoyed Fairy Tail’s momentary helplessness. Now it was his turn, and it was right. And if that wasn’t right, Freed didn’t care. It was he who made the rules.

Freed walked down the corridor going out into the fresh air and closing off the screams with the door behind him. He almost wanted to stay there and listen to them longer, but he knew that if he did, he'd seriously risk going mad and giving in to his dark side. And as much as he enjoyed having that dark power, he knew it was best not to go too far.

He walked away and entered the woods, passing all the trees in the shadows of the night and reaching the small stream near Magnolia. He sat down on the ground and looked at the water in front of him.

He didn’t want to get carried away by rage or fury, but he was far too happy to hear those screams. And even though he could no longer hear them now, just knowing that those men were still suffering filled him with a terrifying joy. He knew he would have to let them go sooner or later. He had to do it, fearing his sanity would disappear with each scream.

He heard footsteps behind him and then a voice.

“Are they still in there?” Laxus asked as he sat down behind him and wrapped him in a hug, pulling Freed against him and resting his head against his chest.

“Yes,” Freed said. “They were already begging,” he said with a sadistic smile and felt Laxus’ arms squeeze him even more. Freed felt himself returning to reality and realized what he had said and in what tone. “Sorry, I sound like a monster.” He knew that Laxus avoided gratuitous violence. He could kill someone or fight them if he was pissed off, but torture wasn’t his style. God, he must have found Freed awful. His stomach sunk at the thoughts, but still, Laxus’s proximity helped him. The blond rested his chin on his shoulder.

“I knew who you were from the moment I met you,” he said. “And I never thought you were a monster, you know.”

“I know,” Freed agreed softly. It still seemed strange to him, but it was true. Laxus had never been afraid of him, and he had seen some terrible things.

“Don’t keep them in there any longer,” Laxus murmured, leaving him a kiss on the neck.

“They deserve it,” Freed objected.

“Yes,” Laxus agreed. “But you don’t, and I’d rather you stay with me.”

Freed didn’t answer, knowing what Laxus meant. And he was right, he didn’t have to give up. He could have fun, but without completely abandoning himself. He closed his eyes and leaned completely on Laxus, who was now holding him in a loving embrace that Freed probably didn’t deserve. Even that didn’t interest him. Laxus loved him, Freed loved him, and that was one of the few pure things in Freed’s life. He wouldn’t let him go.

“You know Laxus,” Freed said after a while, placing his hand on Laxus’s and stroking it slowly. “Sometimes I like to be a monster”.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [5]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats, implied ptsd, violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: sam wilson nation how are we feeling after that trailer. only about a month to go for my two dumbasses to get the recognition they deserve!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Where are they?”

“We don’t know, boss.”

Their eyes glossed over with rising anger, masking its earlier aloofness.

“I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.” Their voice was acidic, dripping with faux politeness. A bad sign.

“Police say they pulled off the highway at one point and then they lost track of them because there were no cameras.” The agent looked at his partner who only nodded in confirmation.

“They could have ditched the car before going on foot,” the partner suggested rather unhelpfully,  “We have no idea where they could be”

They were silent, mouth pressed in a hard line, leaving everyone in silence.

“Have I told you about the time my dad hired someone to fix the sink here?” they finally asked, looking away from the agents. “Some drunk fuck got in a fistfight and absolutely decimated the thing. Dad got someone to fix the hole in the wall and the fitting.”

They turned away, facing the wall.

“He did an alright job, that guy. Fixed up the place, installed a new sink. But there was a problem that he said he’d be able to fix only the next day, something about water dripping through an unsealed pipe.”

The agents just sat there on their chairs, feet cold. They knew where the story was going. It was a myth at their organisation, a cautionary tale to everyone who joined.

“My dad, he agreed. Said ‘Yeah sure, come back tomorrow’. Guy packed up his bag and was on his way out when my dad called him back. Asked him to hold out his hand for the money and then he just,” they paused, “cut one of his fingers clean off. Told him that he’d get his payment and his finger when the job was done.”

“I loved my father,” They skipped a beat before whipping their head around to look at the two agents. “But he was a coward. I would have shot him in the head.”

The agents looked paler than what they were a few seconds ago.

“If I tell you to do something, either do it perfectly or don’t do it all because the next time you’re here and those two are still alive,” they sneered, lunging forward to grab one of their collars, “I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss,” the partner was barely audible, speaking for the one who was breathing heavily, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Go on then.” They smiled, letting go of the agent’s collar as he stayed frozen in his place. They dusted their hands off before straightening up. “Don’t return without good news.”

The frustration of not knowing something was not one you were used to.

You were used to knowing. The satisfaction of a puzzle. The ease of a predictable pattern.

So when this mystery wasn’t getting solved within twenty minutes, it was starting to affect you. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail for months leading up to the case. Every client you shook hands with. Every coworker you greeted with a nod. Every vile sicko you had killed.

And yet, no matter how much you thought and rethought and rethought again, it simply didn’t make sense. There was a piece missing. A hidden variable.

Sam helped wherever he could. He offered up arguments and rebuttals. If you had a theory, he’d find the flaw or the lack of proof. He was keeping it reasonable. Only snorted when you suggested that maybe the president was involved in a large scale extermination of underground mafias. A absurd theory that had no roots in reality.

“You could point out any official on the damn senate and they would have some connection to our gang that you can dig up with one Red Bull and twenty minutes on the internet,” he had said. “It’s too much of a liability if we get caught. They’ll just get exposed for all the nasty shit they’ve been hiding under the carpet.”

You knew this, of course, and it didn’t help to be reminded of it again because it also meant that one more theory was ruled out. And with each theory ruled out, the further away you were from your answer.

It was frustrating.

Sam was in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with the copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. You were working on plausible solutions, drawing up flow charts to see what could be connected.

If Pierce wasn’t the common link then it had to be something else. You couldn’t proceed with the other spies theory because no one else immediately sprung to mind. There was one... but you decided against writing it.

If Ransone was telling the truth, and there was no way of knowing he was, Sam and you were unrelated and his being there was coincidental. You just had to rely on the employee-employer relationship you shared, if you could even call it that.

“Fuck,” you cursed loudly, tearing up the piece of paper and crumpling it. You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Your eyes were burning from straining it for too long and your shoulders were in pain from slumping over the table all day. 

You took a deep breath, shaking your head before instinctively reaching for another sheet. Your hand came up short so you fumbled around the table blindly, trying to grab at a piece of paper without spending the extra effort of searching.

“You’re not getting another sheet,” Sam’s voice came from above you. “You’re going to watch some shitty movie, eat some soup and relax for today.”

“Give it back, Wilson,” you muttered, reaching out your hand.

“No. You can use your unhealthy coping mechanism when I’m not around to see it. Half of this is my mess too and I’m not going to watch you have a breakdown over it.”

He was going to be annoyingly persistent; somehow he had exhibited that magnificently over the last few days. You knew better than to argue with him over something that he had made his mind up about by now.

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” You let your head fall onto the table, wishing that the cool wood would do something for the headache you felt coming.

You heard him set the paper back down, not saying a word. Your head was throbbing and all you wanted was the frustration to ease. It was killing you.

“Come on. We’re going outside.” That piqued your interest. Sam had never invited you anywhere before.

“Where?”

“Y’know; the outside. I know you haven’t seen it in a while but see if these words jog your memory. Sun. Grass. Win-”

“I know what the outdoors is, Wilson.” You smiled against the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I’m asking where exactly we’re going.”

“You’ll see. Put some shoes on.”

By the time you looked up he was already walking away from the table, leaving you to follow.

You sighed. He sounded too determined and you didn’t have many other options.

Pushing your chair away from the table, you went to go put on your shoes. __

“If in care you were planning to, I’m just going to tell you right now that you can’t kill me.”

The both of you had been wandering along the path for a while. When you met him by the backdoor, he had a bag with him filled with who knows what.

He declined to tell you what was in it either, despite you asking thrice.

“Calm down, Keanu Reeves. That’s not what I was going to do.” Sam gave a short laugh.

“I’m serious. I know karate.”

“So do I.”

“Krav Maga.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“Kickboxing.”

“Now you’re just insulting me. That’s level one.”

The path was littered with tree roots that stuck out of the soil, stray branches and leaves that crunched satisfactorily under your feet. One second of distraction and you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground. 

You both continued for a few more minutes before he finally came to a stop.

It didn't look very different from the rest of the woods until something caught your eye. In front of you, one of the trees stood out. The bark had large concentric circles, resembling a large dart board. A few indentations were already made in it; clearly it was being used for practice regularly.

“Here you go,” he spoke from beside you, handing you a tomahawk. “Go ahead, throw it at it.”

You looked at the tiny axe in his hand.

“Think of it as adult darts,” he encouraged, “Here, I’ll throw the first one.”

He extended his arm in front of him, pulling his wrist back before effortlessly throwing it at his makeshift board. It was two circles away from the bullseye he had carved out. It must have taken a while to make.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” you commented as he picked up another one, launching it at the tree. You followed its trajectory, watching it embed itself into the bark closer to the centre than the previous turn.

“That’s what makes it fun.” This man had no regard for safety protocols. Given, these were things that came with the job but it didn’t mean you did it in your free time. “It helps, just try.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked curiously, trying to assess his reaction. Pulling you out of the house for a bar game wasn’t exactly the type of thing people generally did for you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged, not giving you any further explanation. “Try one.”

“Okay.” You followed his example, watching as it glided smoothly before landing close to his initial throw.

“Nice shot.”

A smile made its way to your face automatically as he handed you another one. You repeated your action, an unusual sense of pride establishing itself in you when it came closer to the middle.

“Now what?”

“Now we collect and do the whole thing again till you feel better,” Sam replied, making his way towards the tree and plucking the small axes out easily. His back muscles tightened against the material of his shirt in the process. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. “Endorphins and all that.

“Is this where you keep disappearing to?” you inquired, taking two of them from him when he returned.

“Sometimes.” He took aim before throwing it at the board. “There’s a few things you can do around here.”

“Your coping mechanism is extreme sports without proper guidelines.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Sam took a step to the side, giving you space to take your turn.

“Have you always been this wise, or?” you teased, concentrating on the circles in front of you. Your shot came pretty close. 

When you didn’t receive a reply, you glanced at him through your peripheral vision. He wasn’t moving, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

“Hit it.”

“I can’t.” His fists were bleeding through the bandages wound around them. He could feel the tear in his skin, the burn of flesh against sweat soaked clothes.

“I said, hit it,” Emil commanded once more. Sam could feel his chest rising and falling steadily from beside him, his putrid breath making him want to vomit.

“I can’t.” He could barely stand up. Exhaustion seeped through every muscle in his body.

“You’re weak,” his trainer spat. “Nothing but a fucking child.”

“He’ll die.” Sam looks down at the boy, bloody and mangled on the floor. He had passed out ages ago but that did nothing to stop them from forcing Sam to continue relentlessly.

“It doesn’t deserve mercy. You hear that Wilson?” He leered right into his ear. “Do you fucking hear that?”

Sam flinched, nodding his head. The saltiness of his sweat was fresh on his tongue, burning where it dripped onto his busted lip from his forehead.

“So fucking finish it.” He knew that if he didn’t listen this time, there would be consequences. He didn’t want to find out what it was because he had no doubt it would pain a hell of a lot more than bruised knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wandering over the body on the floor. “I won’t.”

“What’d you say?” Emil straightened up, taking a step towards him.

“I said no.” Sam turned around on his heel. He could barely stand straight but the spite running through his veins was driving him, giving him enough energy to not collapse right there on the spot.

“He said no,” his trainer repeated, leaning away from Sam. “He said no.”

He turned to look at Ransone. Sam had forgotten he was there in the darkness of the room, observing the fight for the past two hours.

“He said no.” He started chuckling. His chuckles soon gave way to hideous laughter. Stomach clutching, tear inducing laughter.

Before Sam could even realise the change in attitude, Emil’s entire demeanour shifted. He stepped forward, forcefully gripping Sam’s neck. He shoved him backward until his back was pressed against the wall, no doubt bruising his spine further than what it was.

“Say that again, you fucking idiot,” he growled. But Sam couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe. He was terrified, but determined not to let it show on his face. “When I say something, you better fucking listen.”

His trainer observed his expression for a few more seconds. Sam didn’t open his mouth.

His trainer finally loosened his grip, letting go of his neck.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled but he kept his balance, coughs racking through his body. He felt lightheaded, swollen eyes watching Emil walk towards the body on the floor. The only friend he had.

“Maybe this oughta teach you a lesson.” Emil flashed a quick smirk at Sam before raising his fist above Riley’s face.

Within a split second a guttural cry escaped his throat as he launched himself at the much larger trainer, taking him by surprise. The pure rage he was feeling had him seeing only red, the adrenaline steering his body on autopilot.  

With their position suddenly switched, Sam found himself on top of Emil, bloody fists beating down on his face without a break. The pain didn’t even matter anymore.

“Fuck you,” he screamed, not giving him even a second to defend himself. “Fuck you, you fucking dickhead.”

When he could feel his trainer raising his arm to grab from behind, he took a pause from pummelling his face to grab his arm, twisting sharply it till he heard a crack. The roar escaping Emil’s throat didn’t dissuade him from finishing what he started, returning to landing a punch wherever he could.

He didn’t even know how long had passed before his body was being pulled away, kicking and cursing.

“You see how good it feels Wilson? You feel that relief?” Ransone held him tightly as he squirmed furiously trying to get back to beating the shit out of that asshole on the ground. “Next time you’re angry, remember that’s the only way to feel good. If you’re in pain, you cause pain.”

Sam’s flailing was reducing as the adrenaline wore off. The exhaustion was beginning to take hold of his body as he looked at the onslaught of blood splatter everywhere, two bodies side by side on the ground. He did this to both of them.

“Violence is your only friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Ransone let go of him. His feet gave out beneath him, chest rising and falling heavily. His shoulders ached as he dragged his body towards Riley, praying to every force in the universe that he wasn’t dead.

He was still breathing. Sam nearly cried out of relief, collapsing next to him. Ready to defend him if Emil woke up.

“Next time you want to let out some anger, come find me,” Ransone called out. “I’ll find you your next victim.”

“You okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wilson.”

It seemed to work as he snapped back, blinking rapidly.

“You zoned out a little there. Everything alright?” you asked. He looked at you blankly for a second before realising what you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a half smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You done with your turn?”

The light that was there behind his eyes a few minutes ago had dimmed considerably. He looked weary. You recognised what had happened, what he was probably thinking of. You didn’t bring it up, not risking the chance of him reliving it.

“Kinda.” You pointed towards the target where a tomahawk was sticking out of the centre.

“Damn,” he whistled, resting his hands on his waist. “Best of three?”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.” You went to collect it. It was harder to pull out than you thought. You wondered how many times Sam had practiced it to make it look so effortless.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Nah.” You walked towards him, handing two of them back to him. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh.” He tested his throw before letting go of the handle. Bullseye. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

You only smiled.

Next part

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Love on the Line - Part 6

A/N: It’s finally here!!!

MASTERLIST      P1         P2           P3          P4          P5

Henry Cavill x Reader

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

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: heartache, language, angst, a pinch of lovey dovey fluff, cliffhanger 

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

“Ohhh myy god…it’s official. This is the best burger of my life, hands down.”

What could easily be perceived as orgasmic music delightfully made its way to his ears. Seb chuckled studying the beautiful girl across from him admiring her combination of burger grease, ketchup, and mustard staining her chin. Y/N was too lost in the delicious meal to notice Seb gleefully watching her. In an instant his hand wiped away the condiment catching Y/N by surprise. She smiled bashfully blushing.

“Told you I knew a place.”

She sighed genuinely happy in them moment; “I could die a happy girl tomorrow because of this sweet, juicy perfection of a burger. All thanks to you.”

“What can I say? I have good taste.”

“And how did you run across this wonderous joint? Kinda feels off the beaten path.”

“Well, when you fly as much as me you learn to ask around. I never trust the internet when it comes to what I put in my body. I like to know what and where the locals scavenge for a tasty meal.”

“You continue to surprise me …I admire your style, Seb. Original, classy, and you no doubt just about charm the pants off any person who walks your way.”

“Is it working now?” He flashed his most flirtatious smile devouring another sweet potato fry.

Quick on her feet, she shot back with wit and attitude; “Should it be?”

“I gotta say Y/N, I’ve never been happier to wake someone up on a plane until I met you.”

“Damn, you’re suave, Seb. Fucking suave.”

Her eyes bulged from their sockets at her crude choice of words; “Shit, I’m sorry. Ah, fuck.”

His laugh flew through the air like wind on a crisp fall evening; her cheeks flushed.

“I’m not usually such a sailor. Guess you bring out the best in me.”

“I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I kinda like that I fluster you if I’m being honest.”

“So smooth. Are you sure you’re not from LA?  I get the sense that’s a requirement in these parts?”

He shook his head in stark disagreement; “Nope, sorry to disappoint you. Just a common foreigner.”

“And a handsome one at that.”

Shocked at her boldness, Y/N stared down at the remnants of food moving her fries as a distraction from his adorable gaze.

“I haven’t felt this at ease in …well I can’t remember. It’s nice.”

“Couldn’t agree more. I never actually asked what brings you here?”

Seb nervously scratched the back of his head; “Uh, work. Like I said, I travel pretty frequently. Hollywood is a hub of sorts for me. What brings you here?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take the hint and pry later. Well, I’m a writer and some big exec wants to discuss the rights to my book series. So, yeah.”

“Y/N, that’s amazing! Are you secretly a super hero, part of the Avengers maybe?”

“Hahah, flattery will certainly get you far. No doubts there.”

“You’re too kind, Y/N. I’m definitely far from perfect.”

“Good. Perfection is overrated. Flaws are attractively imperfect. I mean at the end of the day we’re only human.”

“Consider me intrigued. I’ve gotta stop by a bookstore and check you out now!”

“Oh, hush! If you must know, I try to keep a low profile. So, uh, how long are you here for?”

“A couple days. I’ve got a bit of free time after my meeting tomorrow and thinking of hitting some trails while I’m here. Don’t get me wrong, LA is cool and all, but kinda suffocating. I try and maintain my distance if possible.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir. The hustle and bustle of London is the literal definition of overwhelming. Countryside getaways were my one true savior. Sometimes London feels like an overpacked sardine can just waiting to explode.”

“So why did you stay?”

Y/N bit her lip trying to keep quiet. She hadn’t once though of Henry since meeting Seb. The lump in her throat appeared by just the mere mention of her subconscious. A part of her wasn’t ready to reveal the ache left beneath her exterior.

“Friends and family. What else ties a person to one place?”

“Love? A relationship?”

His coyness was flattering. She gave into his curiosity.  

“Are you asking if I’m single?” Her feigned expression was enough to send him into a fit of harmonious laughter.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depends on your answer, I guess. Part of me believes you’re too good to be true which usually means taken.”

“HA, no. Relationships and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Ah, sounds like heartbreak hotel is just around the corner….”

“I recently got out of a long-term relationship. So, to answer your question; Yes, I’m single and so not ready to mingle.”

“Are you assuming I’m hitting on you?” His shocked appearance made her question their entire encounter and if she’d been reading the signs wrong all along.

“Well, good thing I’m only here for the coffee and platonic company, hm?”

Seb raised his mug in salute as her stress magically melted away; “Break-ups suck. But allow for a real opportunity to see who you really are. Pain can be a bitter reminder of sadness and strength.”

“Wow, philosophizing so soon into our newly found friendship? A man after my own heart!”

Y/N playfully placed her hand over her heart, smiling for particular reason.

“How about if you’re interested and only 100% positive you aren’t sick of my company; we do dinner or even drinks? Whichever the lady chooses.”

Seb motioned in jest. Y/N tried to remember the last time she’d felt so carefree unable to pin down an exact memory. For far to long Y/N trapped herself in a fog allowing Henry to rule over her even when he wasn’t physically there. It had to stop, she had to quit placing him on a pedestal if she had any luck of moving on from their failed love affair. One torturous long minute passed as Seb’s nerved ramped up.

“Shit, I’m that weird dude, now. Forget I asked and let’s chalk it up to an amazing afternoon as strangers who leave this diner and head back to our own separate lives without consequence?”

Again, Y/N was speechless contemplating what she truly wanted to do next.

“First things first, stop blubbering, you seriously are ungodly handsome. And on second note, our chance meeting was unexpected but kinda sorta awesome. I’d love to see you again. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt so free…and don’t even get me started on the belly aches due to your comedic skills.”

“Damn, a woman that speaks her mind. Are you sure you’re not in politics?”

“Nope, never, no thank you. Sooo, it’s a date?”

Seb furrowed his eyebrow in pleasant surprise; “You said it, not me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes; “Yeah, yeah. What do the kids say nowadays…. YOLO?”

“Yes, and please never say that again.”

A napkin holder was placed strategically resting against the window sill. Seb signaled to their middle-aged waitress; “Pardon me, do you have a pen handy?”

“Course, darling. Anything for ya.” She winked dropping the pen on the edge of the checkered table leaving them to privacy. He scribbled his number on the grainy piece of paper and slid it her way.

“I’ll leave the ball in your court and pass the privilege of reaching out to confirm details.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead? Obviously not in Romania.”

“What fine establishment do they have you shacking up in?”

“Chateau Marmont. Long story short, my publisher fully embraces and understands my introverted nature and love of historical hotels. Call me an oddball.”

“Oddball.”

They snickered like school children slowly understanding their time was coming to a close. A power, a force of sorts gravitated Y/N towards him. He felt the same way.

“I happen to think women who especially history buffs are so incredibly magnificent. I haven’t met many as beautiful as you.

Their flirtation skyrocketed like flicks of fire firing between them.

“Knowledge is like your super power…. also, intelligent women are a complete turn on.”

She swatted his arm smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

“Come on, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you off.”

He offered his hand helping Y/N to her feet. She lingered a second too long. With Seb a couple steps behind her, she missed the clinch of his fists and Seb’s reddened cheeks.

---The Next Day---

No luxury was forgotten as Y/N observed her decadent hotel room, but no matter how comfortable the memory foam or high thread count sheets, Y/N tossed restlessly the whole night. Her anxieties attacking her mind at every possible angle. Worry engulfed her clutching on her own insecurities. Her fear? 

That she’d walk into David Fincher’s office and leave very humiliated and very far from home. Henry’s ghost loitered just out of reach. A ghost can be many a thing; a memory, a daydream, a secret, but most times, a wish. Old or new. But that was the past, memories she must let go of.

Y/N stared at the ceiling wishing her bed to open up and swallow her whole finally dozing off to her temporary dreamland. But sunlight painted the walls like a colorful painting. She stretched and moaned at the sensations of her waking bones.

Making her way to the bathroom, Y/N’s phone chimed forcing her to circle back towards the obnoxious device.

Seb: Buna dimineata prietene! (Good Morning, friend)

Y/N: Romanian? So early in the morning. How dare you sir?

Blinking dots ran across the screen as Y/N waited impatiently for his witty response.

Seb: Never too early for greatness. As they say in the theater, break a leg! But not an actual leg because I might be looking forward to our date. Okay, good luck with the meeting!

Y/N: Thanks for the good juju. Same to you! Call you later.

She unconsciously rubbed at the tender swell in her chest, the fluttering in her belly kicking wildly. Butterflies. It’d been ages since she’d been this excited and it surprised Y/N. Maybe she was ready for something more…Y/N shook her head ridding herself of such silly thoughts. She knew better than to rush full steam ahead.

    ---Later that day---

The fourteenth floor was decorated to architectural perfection. Every space had its purpose and the décor elegantly stylish.  There she stood in the presence of cinematic greatness! As Y/N was about to pinch herself, she heard an echo of a name. Looking up, she searched for the unknown voice before landing on an enthusiastic figure waving her direction.

“Y/N! So nice to finally see you in person. I’m Meg.”

“Meg, so glad to put a face to a name. Thank you for having me.”

Both women walked down a hallway lined of glass walls smiling at those who looked up.

“David has talked nonstop about your series. So much so that I ended up devouring your books in three days. You’re freaking brilliant!”

“You really think so? I worked my ass off to get it through any publishing house. I was on the verge of chucking my ideas in the trash and getting an actual job that paid real money if it wasn’t for a last-ditch effort.”

“I’ve blocked off a thirty-minute window before his next meeting begins. He’s booked back-to-back today but by no means feel rushed. He hates when I push him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Her head bobbed nonchalantly taking notice of the stunning scenery from the 17th level.

“Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Best of luck, Y/N.”

Meg knocked; “Come in!”

“David, this is Y/N.”

“Thanks, Meg. Close the door behind ya, we’ve got loads to discuss.”

David extended his hand towards Y/N’s shaking firmly. Y/N reminded herself to breath and to quickly find her manners.

She stuttered trying to remember common speech causing David to laugh aloud.

“Ms. Y/N, you okay?”

“Yyess—just a tad shell shocked. I mean, I can’t believe I’m standing in a room with the David Fincher. Unbelievable, really. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You wrote one hell of a series that I trust can be transferred stunningly over to the silver screen where it can be fully appreciated. I’ve never seen someone mold together so many genres with such ease yet adding a layer of complexity. You, young lady, kept me guessing every twist and turn. That doesn’t happen too often if you catch my drift.”

“I-I, it’s just nice all those late-night writing sessions and waiting tables paid off. I’ll have you know I was on the verge of giving it all up and going back to school.”

“So, let’s get down to details. My team and I have come up with an offer that is totally open for negotiations.”

David slid a piece of paper into view. Y/N stared at the parchment gob smacked. Her jaw fell open at the written proposal.

“Holy shit.” Her eyes snapped up at her vulgar language; “Shit! I don’t mean to be impolite.”

“Ha, it’s a bit flabbergasting upon first glance but I promise you I want to do everything in my power to make this work for both parties.”

“Am I…am I reading this correctly?”

“Indeed, $10 million for the first two films, advancing to an additional $13, $15, $17 million for the last three. Of course, aiding us in the writer’s room to make sure we bring your story to live through your eyes. This will undoubtfully increase book sales across the board, I’d say upwards of $60 million if all goes accordingly. Also, I didn’t forget about making you an executive producer.”

“You’re kidding me, riight? Am I dreaming?”

“You’re gonna be a big deal once the tabloids get their sticky fingers on this. I mean this is going to skyrocket you to the likes of Stephenie Meyer and Suzanne Collins status. I mean, I had to outbid Peter Jackson just for a chance at directing this masterpiece. Darling, you’re all Hollywood can talk about right now.”

“Wow, I’m, uh, seriously grateful. I guess I’ve been shacking up in London far too long. I don’t really read celeb gossip so needless to say I’ve been in my own bubble.”

“A huge thank you goes out to Henry Cavill for pitching the initial idea. He helped get the recognition you deserve. Nice fellow, that one.”

Momentary shock came over her face, mouth still agape; “He—Henry had a hand in this?”

“Most certainly. He was the one who brought it to my attention. Of course, he mentioned the desire to work with me was motivation enough, but genuinely, he seemed passionate about the project.”

“I-I had no idea.” Switching gears as fast as possible Y/N trotted forth; “So realistically, when can we get the ball rolling?”

“Once the proper documents are signed and stamped, we’re good to go. If negotiations aren’t necessary, I’d say within the next month or so we can start casting calls, booking air fare, figuring out destination shoots, getting a manuscript going. It comes together faster than people think. How about this; you mull it over, call whoever you need, and get back at me in the next couple of days. Sound good?”

“Sounds more than good! I think I’ll be forever be in your debt, Mr. Fincher.”

“Please, call me David. We have a long road ahead of us that has truly stoked a fire in me, all thanks to you.”

Her nerves triumphed pushing Henry to the back of her mind. Y/N had bigger fish to fry.

“May I be frank with you, David?”

“By all means.”

“As you probably know Henry’s my ex-fiancée. Is it true you’re possibly considering him for the lead role?”

David looked around quizzically composing himself.

“I figured we’d have to address the elephant in the office. Yes, I was aware and I didn’t consider him to be malicious. He’s a genius actor and I figured it was worth a chat. But if you’re worried about anything, just say the word.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize his successes. I agree, he’s an untapped actor full of surprising talent. I’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Rest assured he isn’t even in the country. Believe he’s still galivanting about London.”

Silently pleading to change the subject, Y/N snapped out of it as quickly as she flew in to.

“This is a dream come true. I’m really looking forward to working with you and bringing my story to life.”

The squeaky hinge of the door alerted her to Meg’s foreboding presence. Taking a cue, Y/N stood up shaking David’s hand beaming like a child on Christmas Eve.

“I’ll be in touch, Y/N. Until then, enjoy your stay. Venture out. You’ll find LA isn’t all plastic and bullshit.”

“Oh, thank god. For a second I was getting nervous.”

“Haha! Meg, next appointment here?”

“Yes, he’s right around the cor--.”

“Y/N?”

She searched for the familiar voice unable to pin it down.

“Seb!? Wha...what are you doing here? I thought you had that big meeting today?”

“Uh, I do. That’s why I’m here.”

Sebastian nervously scratched his neck. Bewildered and thoroughly confused Y/N pushed on; “Wait a minute…. Are you an ...?”

“Actor, yes.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Wait.”

“Holy shit. You’re Shirley Lovecraft. Catchy pseudo name. So, you’re the brains behind this witty madness. What an interesting turn of events if I do say so myself, a happy one.”

“Agreed. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Kinda embarrassing.”

“Don’t. A perfect afternoon with someone who wasn’t using me for fame or money? Did I mention you look breathtaking today?”

Her cheeks fumed with heat stirring her butterflies back to life. Seb’s hand stilled on her waist unwilling to let go as they continued gazing at the other.

“Earth to Seb?

Seb broke eye contact first glancing over at David. Y/N was too busy memorizing the glimmer of his cobalt blue eyes.

“Yes, ah! So rude of me. Hello there, so great of you to squeeze me in. I appreciate it.”

He directed his attention towards Y/N once more leaning close to the shell of her ear; “Still on for drinks later?”

“Definitely.”

His wink sparked a jolt to her core leaving her weak in the knees. Somehow, some way, Y/N mustered enough confidence to walk without tripping. She glowed the whole walk to the elevator. Y/N pressed the button too lost in thought to hear the quiet ding of arrival strolling straight into a hard chest. Enormous hands grasped her shoulders; “Oh! Apologies Ms.”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying atten—oh shit.”

Only one particularly charming British accent that could send a chill down her spine, one very distinguishable voice indeed. 

“Y/N?”

Time froze icily still.

“What the fuck? Henry??”

~~~~~~~~~~

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[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|eleven.

chapter eleven: snapdragons & sunflowers (Vol. 1) 

↳ flower meaning: snapdragons: deception. sunflowers: unconditional love.

chapter summary: to ask for a kiss. 

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: fluff, angst, comedy, all in one, mentions or allusion to sex but not smut :), you’ll see, alcohol. 

You’ll hate me. 

word count: 11.2K

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles  

ten (Instagram): in which they share set pictures

ten (tweets & texts:in which the groupchats are…loud

previous chapter next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

So, please help me out I think tags aren’t working. So yes, hope you enjoy this :)

Y/N was made of the people she loved or once loved. Everyone is, really, but y/n probably made sure it showed.

 Like her habit for photography had come from her very own best friend, of the way she started watching cooking videos because of her other best friend and always read the ingredients on any of the food she ate. Her clothing style had come from her very own first boyfriend who had introduced her to the magnificent world of the 80’s.

Her love for 80’s movies had come from Louis introducing her every night to a different one, a new story, a new song, and honestly it was good he showed her to it, y/n found her one true love. Louis, really, had shown y/n a lot of things, like how to lie to see him at indecent hours, and how  And how Louis taught her that love doesn’t have to last and that sometimes people aren’t what we expect.  

How she loved pancakes because that’s what her mother used to make them every Sunday, and how she’d learned from her father that sometimes sitting outside in the grass on a sunny day could bring back happiness to us. 

How her grandma had taught her how to have a perfect poker face, and how her grandfather had shown her how to peel an orange in a ‘correct way’. 

 How she had started to drink her tea with lemon and honey because James had once given her one like that and it brought nice memories. And how James had told her that it’s okay to love, even when people tell you not to, you have to fight for your love, you shall never be afraid of who you love. And James teaching her that she should love for herself, for her own, and not having to share her feelings if she didn’t want to. 

How y/n had started to watch subtitled films because Timmy had shown her some hidden gems. Or how she had learned from Tim to enjoy little moments, like the sunrise if she ever had to wake up early, or how she opened the windows to listen to the rain splattering. Tim had taught her too much about life, like enjoying wasting time. 

Y/N was made, the most, of the people she loved the most. Like how she made pasta the way James had taught her to once when their parents had gone out and James was left in charge. 

Or how when she was sad she’d watch that movie her childhood friend had introduced her to, and how they didn’t talk now. How y/n had learned that music was a way of healing because of that same friend. 

Or how to make a story sound great with Harry, and how Harry had shown her songs that probably were her favorite ones. How Harry and her knew that they didn’t like tequila because of that one time, and how they had learned that mixing cranberry, and grape juice and vodka tasted great thanks to Sam’s idea. 

The way that Emma had taught her to use certain hair products, and how Emma had taught her that sometimes we have to sing out our feelings, and scream and shout. How Emma had taught her the importance of a friendship and having someone’s shoulder to cry on. That she didn’t have to be lonely. 

How when she kissed she usually liked to place her hands behind their neck because she’d done that on her very first kiss with Tom, or how she usually ate some of the chocolate chips when she baked cookies because Tom and her used to do that. She had learned how to wrestle from a very young age and beat Tom, and she had learned how to play with his hair in a way to make him smile. She had learned the meaning of a rose, when all her life she had never understood about it, Tom had shown her how to approach a dog, and Tom had taught her how to cuff her jeans in a cool way. Or the habit she’d picked from him of undressing the beer bottle when they were talking or how he opened it with the table. How Tom had taught her how to kiss, from their very first one to the last one, different kisses each time, how he’d taught her each and every kiss is a journey, a mystery. How she’d learned how to deal with heartbreaks and to fall in love all over again. And how she had learned that he’d come back to her. But really, how a heartbreak feels when it’s real. 

That’s who y/n was. All the beautiful things of the people she loved. 

But she was also the bad ones, unfortunately, because people shape us. Y/N was also made of the ugly parts, very ugly parts. 

One that stood out the most, she’d learned from Tom, from James, from her family, was to avoid talking. 

Everybody wanted to talk, everybody except y/n. She knew she was being immature, but she’d learned that from everyone around her, not to care if you don’t have to. But she was too overwhelmed, everyone had something to say about, except her. How could she talk if she didn’t know what she wanted? 

Tom, Harry, Emma, Tim, James, Sam, Cherry, Aunt Eliza, even Josh and Clark.  

Everybody wanted to talk. She didn’t. 

She had caught on to what Tom was doing. She'd go along with it, he was the only one she wanted to talk to, honestly. 

And Emma, because she knew Emma didn’t judge her, Emma understood y/n, and Emma had been the only one who really didn’t tell her she was wrong. Even if Tim was her best friend, Ema understood that y/n’s heart belonged to Tom. 

“Clark is great, I may have fallen in love with him,” Emma had stated. 

Y/N nodded. “He’s great, I—“

“Why didn’t you know?” Emma asked. 

“I did know. But I didn’t—James was—you know how I’ve only dated three guys?” Y/n asked, she was putting on makeup, she had a date. 

“Yeah.” 

“James is exactly the opposite, he’s dated like half the gay population his age in London,” y/n scrunched her nose, as she was choosing between lipsticks.. “So I just—Never paid attention to any guy he dated because I never thought it was serious.” 

“Are you talking to him now?”

“I did today, only because of Clark,” y/n admitted, giving up on the lipsticks and instead choosing to work on her hair. “James is still angry I am in love.” 

“Not angry at that, you know that,” Emma pointed out. 

“Is it that wrong I am so in love with Tom?” Y/n left the brush on the table as she turned to look at Emma. 

“It’s completely bollocks y/n, but then again,” Emma sighed, “I wish I could be more like you and just love—I mean and I also wish Harry wasn’t so scared okay? He’s just so bloody scared, I wish he’d just say hey, Emma, d’ya fancy to go for a stroll? But no, we are both so… Gosh, I wish we were more like you and Tom, throwing everything down the drain.” 

“We are-” 

“You are, y/n,” Emma rolled her eyes. “He blows your mind and you basically want to yell it to the world, and he gets you all stupid, and you’re happy again, that’s alright, though-” 

Emma was laying down on y/n’s bed, her feet up against the wall, as she was nibbling on a popsicle. 

“Yes, I know, we have to talk,” she sighed. 

“Who says it has to be right now?” Emma had said. “Right now you barely have time to think, and I see you all happy and giggling, and besides, talking doesn’t have to be dramatic.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s just… I don’t get it why James wants it to be dramatic, it’s just hey, you guys love each other, what else is there to know?” 

Y/N nodded, turning back to the lipsticks. 

“You do have to tell him you know about Cherry, though, which-” 

“Yeah, n, no, but I get it,” y/n sighed.

“Which, I love you’re ignoring, just pretending like she doesn’t exist, ” Emma laughed. “She just arrived yesterday, didn’t she?” 

“She did,” Y/N sighed. “Ugh, I don’t want to see her and she wants to talk, what does she want to talk about? We’ve never cared about each other before, met her like three times growing up because my mum and hers didn’t get along, which by the way, I’m scared James and I are headed in that same direction.” 

“You won’t,” Emma said. “James loves you too much to ever leave you.” 

“You never know,” y/n said. “Besides that’s not my point, my point is why does she want to talk? We have nothing in common!” 

“Dunno, you’re blood related and you both rode the same dick, seems like you’ve got a lot in common.” 

Y/n closed her eyes as she forced a laugh, “Emma!” 

“I’m just saying, y/n, that’s why you and I became close, we’ve both kissed the same two guys.”

“It’s different,” Y/N scoffed. “I—just don’t want to see her okay? Because I know I’ll be reminded of every single insecurity I have,” she admitted. “Because I know that the moment I see her I’ll get just so anxious, you know? She’s so pretty, and she’s so perfect and from what-” 

“From what I’ve gathered from Eliza, she’s also a mess,” Emma added. 

“That’s an issue, that’s Tom’s type, just look at me,” y/n laughed as she stared at a bright red lipstick. 

Emma scoffed. “Oh, hadn’t thought about that, Tom’s into messy girls with your genes.” 

“It’s so fucked up, though,” y/n said, as she looked up at the wall, she needed to change the flowers, they were drying out. She hadn’t changed them in a while. 

Emma shrugged, “considering how small his brain is, he probably thought it would feel the same way if he closed his eyes.” 

“As if it would,” y/n replied cockily, finally choosing a light pink, changing it up a bit, she’d always used bright red lipsticks with Tom,  “I’ve known him his whole life, and now I’ve—“she cleared her throat. “ I know exactly how to work him up.” 

Emma let out a loud and long laugh. “I can tell, Jesus, what did you do to him to have him oh, so mesmerized? Are you a sex goddess or why are those two men so bloody entranced by you?”

Y/N blushed and shook her head laughing. “You’re an idiot.” 

“How do you really feel?” Emma wondered, getting the conversation back as serious as it was supposed to be. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, she was still on some pair of pjs. “I… I’ve been talking with Tom, or…” She rolled her eyes. “He’s found a way to talk, and I think it’s worked out for both of us.” 

“Oh, what is it?” Emma sighed. 

Y/n walked over to her closet, it felt so weird to choose something to wear, Tom had warned her to be casual, something her style, something very her. 

“We use the script so we can… I guess we’re projecting it all, and well, I think he’s been understanding about it, and I think I’m starting to understand his point of view, about Tim at least.” 

“Please, I don’t need to listen to him to know why he feels that way,” Emma pointed out. 

“Really?” Y/n turned back to Emma as she was choosing between them. 

“I like the red one,” Emma suggested. “But please, y/n,” Emma scoffed. “Timmy was the one who stole his chance, Timmy was the one who got the girl when he had fucked up and everyone around Tom said it, we’ve all said it at some point, Tim is perfect for you.” 

“But—“

“and besides, Timmy was the one-” 

“The one who opened the door when Tom came to apologize,” y/n finished Emma’s sentence as she sat down hugging the red dress Emma had suggested. 

Emma frowned. “What?” 

“Guess Timmy had secrets, too,” y/n said.

Emma seemed confused. 

“He never told me about it, how Tom had come a second time, and…” She sighed. “I mean I guess I’m thankful he didn’t but I’m… I’m only wondering—“

“Oh, back when you first started dating,” Emma recalled. “He did tell me about it, and I.. was the one to advise him not to  tell you.” 

Y/N gulped. 

“Would you have run back to Tom?” Emma wondered, embarrassed. “Honestly I told him not to because—Well, I had asked Harry about it, you know? Harry had said you hated each other and that you had been avoiding Tom for a while now. That you were enemies.” 

“We were.” 

“And I mean—Back then, you really hated him.”

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I did.” 

“So I told Tim not to tell you about it, because I thought—I didn’t know the background but I thought Tom was going to—hurt you, you know? And I guess, we all did, and we all kept that mentality even when he wasn’t trying to.”

“Yeah.” 

“Wow, I’ve never thought about that,” Emma nodded. “Even when I knew you were dating back in New York, we were just waiting for it, for Tom to—“

“Yeah, for Tom to pull a Tom,” y/n ended the sentence. “And I mean—He kind of did, but it was my fault.” 

“Tom really sabotages himself, it seems.” 

Y/N reached out to hug her frog, she was thankful James had brought it, “he does, but because he’s expected to, you know? Maybe that’s why— I haven’t brought it up because I’m not—I’m not expecting the heartbreak this time, and I know bringing up the whole Cherry thing is looking for it,” y/n explained. “I trust him this time, and he really wants to make it work out.” 

“Would you have gone back to him? Had Tim told you he had showed up?” Emma questioned. 

Y/N breathed in heavily. “Dunno,” she said. “I was so heartbroken back then, I thought— and I had promised myself back then I would never fall back for him, and… I mean, I had even thought I would never love again because that’s how dramatic it was, I really didn’t want to see him, that heartbreak is what led to all this mess, you know?” She explained. “Now Tom knows that, I think he really understands it, and he feels guilty and I mean, I was angry when Tom told me about it, because… Tim, well he didn’t know back then, he just was too sure that Tom loved me but—After learning all of this? Tim should’ve told me, because just now, learning it, I guess it changed a lot of things, not that it erased anything, but I lived all this time thinking he hadn’t… He really hadn’t cared, and it took him a lot of time, still, but he had tried to apologize again, and Tim keeping it to himself knowing that what broke me the most was that Tom had never shown up? Tim keeping it to himself is just—so selfish.” 

Emma bit her lip. “He’s still in love with you.” 

Y/N remained quiet. 

“I mean, you can’t blame him,” Emma said. “You guys were… I mean before Tom, you really seemed to be hitting it off, I thought you’d end up dating again.” 

“I did, too, at some point,” y/n admitted. “But-” 

“But you love Tom, I know,” Emma shrugged. “No but… Y/N you also, have to acknowledge it, you can’t keep playing with Tim which-before you say anything, I mean it’s also on him, he knew it, but then again, I… I believed it at some point y/n, that you were going to get back together with him because… The way you looked at him just… and it was just—” 

“I know, I know and I thought… I don’t know, okay?” y/n admitted as she sat up. “I… It’s cause I never… I had closure with Tim, alright? I gave him the ring back because I thought, I know it, I want Tom, okay? It’s Tom, yes, it’s Tom.”

“But?” 

Y/n sighed, “Timmy—alright as I said before, I had said I would never love again after the whole Rome thing,” she cleared up. “And then Tim came along and just showed me this beautiful life and taught me how to love again, and I—He became a very special part of me.” 

“Yeah, and? That doesn’t explain your flirting.” 

“I didn’t—flirt.” 

“Well you answered to his flirting,” Emma pointed out. 

“We were—“

“You guys were flirting y/n!” Emma replied quickly, slightly stressed. “You guys don’t flirt like everyone else! Your flirting style with each other was by showing each other songs and him watering your plants, y/n! You were basically having sex with each other,” Emma rolled her eyes. 

Y/N stayed quiet. 

“But I know, Tom, Tom—“

Y/n gulped. “Yeah, Tom.” 

Emma watched y/n, confused. “Why are you acting like it’s the last time?” 

“What?” 

“Like it’s your last chance with Tom.” 

“I...don’t know, because what if it is, you know? It’s… stupid, we’ve had plenty of chances and… Last time, I just… Had I known it would lead to that. I know it’s my fault, and like we’ve both blown it up so it’s—“

“Neither one of you will fuck up.” 

“I know—But Tom… We are trying and I’m happy but I feel-” 

“Y/N you are pretending, I know, you won’t be happy until you talk about it with him.” 

She sighed. “I know, and we’ve been talking and I…” She coughed. “I really want to try it out.” 

“But…?”

“Am I allowed to forgive something like that? Am I even allowed to get angry about Cherry?”

Emma sat up as well. “Y/N, had he slept with anyone else I wouldn’t be so sure but that’s your cousin, that’s fucked up and-” 

“What if he finds out about Tim?” 

Y/N grabbed the pillow that had once been under her head and proceeded to get it in her face and scream into it. 

“Wait, I’m… I’m gonna try that,” Emma laughed, doing the same. 

Both of them were screaming into the pillows, pitying their sorrows and problems. 

Timmy had walked in. 

“What the hell?” He asked. 

Emma was the only one to peak her head out of it. “It’s therapeutic.” 

Timothee had only chuckled. “I bet.” 

Y/N had stopped screaming but kept the pillow over her face. She didn’t know how she felt about Tim, there was no point in being angry at something from the past, but it did change a lot of the way she saw him, maybe he had forgotten. But Tim was never one to forget, he was observant and he was quiet, and he was all about the stories. 

“Um, y/n?” Tim said. 

Emma watched Tim, and the small object he had in his hand. She shot him a warning glare, scared of the inside. 

“Yeah?” y/n answered from her pillow which now had a nice stain of makeup on it. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asked. 

Another person wanting to talk, what was it with everybody wanting to say words and listening and whatever? Y/N thought to herself. 

Though Timmy hadn’t asked for it yet, she knew it, but he hadn’t really said it, not the whole y/n we should talk. 

She wanted to say no, but she knew that she couldn’t keep doing that. Counting the days until it finally had to blow up, and then end up with bruises, no, she didn’t have to do that. 

She finally let the pillow down, “Yeah, sure,” she said before walking out of her room. 

“Sure, leave Emma behind,” Emma pointed out. 

“I… well,” Y/N looked at Tim. 

“It’ll be quick, darling, Emma dear,” Tim assured her. 

Emma rolled her eyes. “It never is with you both.” 

Tim rolled his eyes before leading the way outside of the apartment, y/n frowned, asking him to wait up so she could put on her sneakers, still wearing her pj’s. 

“So your birthday is tomorrow,” Tim had said as they had walked out, he had sat on the stairs. 

She chuckled as she sat beside him. “Yeah.” 

“You look really pretty,” Tim had said. 

“These pj’s really accentuate my features huh,” y/n joked. 

“Your makeup looks pretty and hair, idiot,” Tim chuckled. 

She only gave him a sad smile. 

“So, what are your plans?” He asked. 

“For… tonight? I’ve got a date,” she explained.

“No, tomorrow.” 

She shrugged. “Tom’s got some plans, apparently, he hasn’t told me anything about it, honestly I don’t… I don’t want to…” 

“What?” 

“Do anything you know? I will be too tired after filming, and I… I just feel like… Dunno, James and Clark will be there and I don’t want to talk to James still, and apparently Cherry invited herself, too so… And you’ll be there, and Harry and Emma… and Josh, and I just... ” She chuckled. “I’ve got a bad feeling.” 

“Why?” 

“Dunno, seems like a perfect combination for disaster.” 

“I met Cherry today,” he admitted. “Well, we’d met before but-Yeah, I thought you’d be at the flower shop. “And she was there, instead.” 

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Yeah I know she’s there, that’s why I haven’t gone there,” she explained chuckling shyly. 

“Why?” 

“Because then I’ll start feeling insignificant, because let’s face it and don’t you dare say no, but she’s really… Pretty, like she’s everything a girl would want to be and I’m jealous of her,” she admitted, truthfully. “I’ve never been the jealous kind but with her, I feel like—Of course anyone would choose her over me, and don’t—Say anything okay? I just feel that way. And if I see her I’ll be reminded of the elephant in the room waiting to be addressed, and I… If the conversation about you went wrong I don’t want to know how that-” 

“About me?” 

“Yeah,” she looked down. “Dunno.” 

Tim bit his lip. 

“How did he-?” 

“I don’t want to talk about that, Tim,” she quickly answered. “I can’t blame him for feeling the way he feels and that’s on me, too, I mean… I… really.” 

“What?” 

She looked down. “I— well, I don’t…know alright? If I feel anxious about Cherry I can only imagine how he feels about you, no, I can’t even imagine it, and look Tim, I—you know you’re very important to me but I’m… I’m dating… Or whatever is going on now, but It’s Tom right now, alright? And I know it’ll be for a long time.” 

“I know.” 

She looked at him, confused by his statement because it really didn’t feel like he knew it.. “And I don’t… want you to think there is an open door or-” 

“Y/N, I know,” he said. “Yeah, I know it’s Tom, now.” 

“But it’s not just—“

“I know,” Tim looked away. “I know.” 

She looked down. “I’m sorry.” 

“Just….” He took a deep breath. “I know it’s him, but that doesn’t… I mean, we’ve been friends, and I—I just ask you not to push me away, alright? I don’t know how I’d live without y/n in my world, and if having you around means having you with him, then I just have to deal with it, move on you know? And I know we are friends, so this is… This comes from your friend, Timmy.” 

She smiled, just slightly, very timidly. It hurt, hurting him but of course, keeping him around meant jeopardizing her relationship with Tom, and she really didn’t want to give it more excuses. 

“Timmy,” she sighed. 

He smiled. “I’m serious, it’s alright, no… no resentment, alright? We both know we… I don’t…you know it, I’ll always love you, but we—I mean you—you love someone else and it’s be stupid of me not letting you love him, that is just pathetically selfish. And don’t get me wrong, it hurts like a bitch…. Yeah, I know it, but… I don’t want to lose you, I am not stupid… but I also… I know that if I give this to you tomorrow, Tom will lose it and I… don’t want that, so I’m giving you this, today.” 

He pulled out a film canister. And it felt like one of those times when life likes to punch you with reality. She felt a fear deep inside her stomach. Last time he’d given her one of those an engagement ring was hidden in it. 

“It’s… It’s not what you think,” Tim rolled his eyes. “Oh, you really thought I’d propose again?” 

She let out a soft chuckle. “No--I… I mean,” I’m-I didn’t think you would-” 

“Your face,” He chuckled softly. “Yeah, no, I… I’m…” 

“Yeah, just last time you gave me one of those-” 

“Yeah, and look where it led us, I’m not… I wouldn’t… No,” Timmy laughed. “No, it’s not… and—do you really think I’m the type of guy to propose on a bad time—-Actually don’t answer that,” he chuckled. “Okay, open it.” 

She grinned, and took the film canister from him. “Man I hope it’s an iPad,” she joked, warning a laugh from Tim. “No, you—you shouldn’t have.” 

She shook it just slightly, listening to no sound coming out from it, before finally opening, carefully. “A…there’s nothing?” She asked. 

“Yeah,” Tim laughed. “I know.” 

She frowned, confused but then chuckled. “I love it… I hope I… can get to wear it soon,” she joked. 

“It couldn’t fit there, but I—Well, you know, we had that tradition, ,” he said before finally giving her the box that sat beside him. 

She took the box and smiled, opening it, an old vintage Polaroid camera stood there. 

“I know you’ve—I think it works, it’s—It’s an original, I've noticed you haven't really taken any Polaroids, and I know you love them,” he coughed. “So, yeah, happy birthday.” 

Y/N had only looked up, giving him a true smile. 

“Thank you, I love it!” 

But of course, the timing could not have gone any worse. Tom had arrived. Y/N had momentarily  forgotten she had agreed to spend the night with him, nothing too serious but Tom had insisted because he had a surprise for early in the morning and he’d come pick her up for dinner and then she’d stay with him. 

Maybe she should’ve seen the trouble coming. 

Tom cleared his throat loudly, “hello,” he said, standing with sunflowers. Yellow flowers with pretty meaning, y/n thought. 

Y/n looked up, calmly, knowing that if he saw any hint of her freaking out it would blow it up because his mind would go places.

“Oh hi!” She grinned. “sorry—I’m not—“

Tom clenched his jaw at Tim, but then turned to y/n and chuckled, “Darling,  when I said casual—I didn’t—“

She chuckled nervously standing up. “Sorry, I—“she squeezed her eyes shut. “I was discussing with Tim something about some pictures he’s planning on—yeah,” she lied, as she hid the film canister and box behind her back. 

“Yeah,” Tim said, clearing his throat, standing up as well. “Hello, Thomas.” 

“Tim.” Tom was nervous already, y/n could tell. 

“Are those for me?” Y/n questioned staring at the flowers  before they could say another word to each other. 

Tom chuckled between his teeth, “yeah, they’re most certainly not for Tim.” 

“Oh,” Tim said, “and here I was getting excited about them.” 

Tom faked a very quiet laugh and then turned to y/n. “So? Don’t get me wrong, you literally look so beautiful—but—“ He smiled looking down at her clothing. 

“Yeah—right!” She excused herself, not forgetting to kiss his cheek, before running back to her room, where Emma was waiting with the red dress and had pulled out some heels for her. 

Emma  walked out of the room, “hello, Tom, long time no see,” she said with sarcasm. 

“I know, these couple hours have been long,” Tom joked back, as he had walked in. 

Tim had followed after. It felt so tense, Emma could swear she could cut the tension with a knife. 

Emma hummed a fake laugh. “There are flower vases over there, you can guess which ones are y/n’s now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna steal Tim from you just a bit, I hope you don’t miss him as much.”

Emma had dragged Tim to her own room. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Emma snapped. 

“A lot of things,” Tim answered. “But let’s not go there, please.” 

“Oh don’t play that with me, I know exactly what you’re doing, and Tim—“

“I’m not—“

“Don’t fucking pull the whole I’m not doing anything bullshit with me,” she rolled her eyes. “I know exactly what you’re doing, and I’m sure you gave her the Polaroid today, really? Exactly when you know she’ll go on a date with Tom? And you take her to the stairs? So he can see it right?

Tim clenched his jaw. “I—Well.” 

“Sabotaging her relationship is not the way to go, Tim,” Emma warned him. “And I—I just told you—Best thing you could try is...move on, alright? I know you love her and that she was—She seemed perfect for you, and I still think you guys worked so well together but… She is so in love with him, and by doing this you’re only hurting her more—Besides, really Tim, you know her better than this,” she pushed. “I—“ Emma sighed. “I'm telling you this because I love you, I don’t want to sound harsh but—“She closed her eyes. “I know she is confused, and making her even more confused won’t help you, let her settle it, let her have it right now.” 

Tim didn’t say anything and just walked out of the room. He had gone to his room and unfortunately had left his door open to see y/n walking out on a red dress to run over excitedly to Tom, who had pulled her close to him to kiss her cheek and smell her perfume. 

Timmy knew Emma was right, y/n was in love with him. So, very deeply in love. And it hurt, seeing her. And Timmy asked for more patience, or for more time, or strength to move on. 

It felt weird, Tim felt lonely and broken hearted, and he just missed her, and it was stupidly incredible that she lived right there in the same apartment. He knew she loved Tom, that was it but it…. It still didn’t make any sense. Honestly, it felt like they were completely strangers. 

Especially y/n, she really felt like a stranger, even to Tom it seemed. She seemed too… distant to everyone.

Tom felt it, too. He felt that y/n was just off, even if she was happy or tried to be and even if she was kissing his cheek, she was being… different. And Tom only wanted to get over with it, the awkwardness. 

And he wondered if she wanted to get over with it, too. 

They went out for dinner, not in the place where she’d imagine Tom would take her, it was a nice dinner place with lightbulbs hanging around, a flower in a glass bottle, candles around, very… cozy, and romantic, and they were talking about barely anything, and maybe for a bit it felt like they were each other again. 

Y/N knew this, she felt weird with herself, as if even when she seemed to be saying what she wanted to say, she really wasn’t saying what her heart wanted, but as if her own heart was keeping secrets. It felt like Tom didn’t know her, though. And it had never felt that way before, but it felt like they were both trying to get to know each other again. Because neither of them were being themselves, not entirely. 

“So, you were clearly not talking about pictures with Tim,” Tom had mentioned. 

y/n looked at him and nodded. “Yeah, I wasn’t….”

“So?” Tom seemed anxious about it. 

“He gave me a birthday present, a…he gave me a polaroid,” she cleared up. “A vintage, original one.” 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Tom nodded, and gulped. “As long as he doesn’t give you a ring.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Tom.” 

Tom shrugged. 

“I… told him,” she cleared her throat. “That well… it’s you.” 

“It’s me?” Tom wondered, and a smile came to his face. “What am I?” 

She rolled her eyes, chuckling softly. “An idiot, that’s what you are.” 

Tom chuckled. “Uh-huh, I am, and what else?” 

She blushed. “Nothing.” 

Tom hadn’t pushed it any further. Their conversation kept flowing. Talking about them. What made them so… them. 

“I remember that everyone was in love with this one guy, ugh, what’s his name? The one that bullied you,” Y/N tried to recall. 

“Edward,” Tom remembered. “He was so big.” 

“Well, everyone had a crush except me, because well, I was the idiot, you know?” 

“You loved that scrawny guy who-” 

“Adorable guy,” she added. 

“Scrawny guy,” he continued. “Who did ballet and everyone crushed on Edward, who-” 

“I actually was… dating Louis back then,” she recalled. “But…” She chuckled. “But my point is… I was the one who… hid a rat in his car.” 

“No way!” Tom’s eyes popped as he leaned over. “You’re kidding.” 

“I… Look, nobody could be an asshole to you unless it was me, that was-” She was nervous. “I was so angry at everything he said at you, I…” She rolled her eyes. “And I… genuinely don’t know.” 

“Where in this bloody world did you get a rat from?” He wondered. “I mean thank you but I didn’t think you’d-” 

“Please I had experience from pranks for you so of course…” She gulped, hiding a laugh. “I...Well, there was a rat in Louis' house, and well they trapped it and instead of… you know killing it I… well told Louis to break into Ed’s car and I hid the rat there.” 

Tom was shocked. “And that was because of me?” 

“No, I hated Ed,” she looked away. “He was the biggest asshole.” 

Tom grinned. “Are you sure? Because I remember that rat incident being right after he had hit me in the hall.” 

“Really?” y/n coughed. “I wouldn’t remember,” she blushed looking away. 

“Which actually brought attention to me, they said it had been me!” He recalled. “I got into detention.”

Y/N grinned. “Yeah, killed two birds in one shot,” she smirked. 

“I’m serious did you-?” 

“Yeah, maybe I did it for you, okay? Whatever, yes, I had feelings for you and I was angry someone else was taking away my job, let’s remember we were enemies back then, alright?” She was nervous. 

Tom smirked. “You had a crush on me.” 

“Shut up,” she chuckled. “You had a crush on me, too.” 

Tom shrugged, smiling. “Yeah, I did. I’m not trying to hide it.

Y/N avoided his gaze, not believing he was actually making her feel butterflies, even after all this time, she was still nervous. In a good way. She wasn’t always nervous, most of the time, she didn’t, she felt so calm around him, but on the edge, as if she didn’t need to worry about being herself but expectant of each other’s attitude. 

Tom watched her, “Why do I always feel like there’s always something on your mind?” 

“Because there is,” she laughed. “Don’t you?” 

“No, I’m dumb, remember? I can actually blank up my mind,” he smirked. “Or well, not at all. There is a constant on my mind,” he had reached for her hand. 

“Oh?” her eyes had brightened up, a timid smile on her face. 

“Yeah, Spiderman,” he joked, earning a glare from y/n. 

It was so stupid. But they were… back being them. Probably because they were alone. As if someone was brushing y/n’s dream, and she couldn’t get enough of him, his laugh was her everything. She couldn’t help but sigh and run out of breath, and never stop blushing, there was no doubt about it. And she had once thought about it, ‘the day that Tom loves me, the world will party’. She had been wrong, the world wasn’t partying, and there were no flowers blooming and no fireworks. The world instead, stopped, as if it was them and only them. The stars were probably jealous of them seeing them shining even more brightly than them. 

“You know, from the moment we met,” he had said. 

“When we were kids, you mean?” She chuckled . 

“Truly met,” Tom gulped. “Rome, I mean.” 

She blinked. “Yeah.” 

“I… Why didn’t you kiss me?” He asked. 

“Hm? When?” 

“That one night, you know the one, lovely evening, I remember I asked for a kiss,” he recalled. “And… you said and I quote: ‘No, Thomas, don’t ask for a kiss’.” 

She looked away, remembering. “Because I didn’t want you to ask for it.” 

He frowned. 

“It’s silly but that’s the way I am, I didn’t want you to ask for it, I was clearly begging for one,” she explained. “I wanted you to… do it. One should never ask for a kiss, or not… verbally.” 

“How so?”

“I mean certain contexts,” y/n said. “But that night? I thought I had hinted it enough 

“So you did want me to kiss you,” He grinned. 

“Of course!” She beamed. “I—it’s not secret by now that I—“she cleared her throat. “Well, enjoy when our lips come together.” 

“Oh, so you enjoy that?” He mocked. 

“Very much so,” she answered shyly. “And—it had been the perfect evening! It would’ve cost you nothing,” she smiled. 

“Cost me nothing,” he laughed. 

“I think you’ll find that kissing me is quite cheap,” she pointed out.

He scrunched his nose. “That’s a lie.” 

“No, no, I was the one who could lose there,” she sighed.

 “No, y/n. Because kissing you costs a lifetime.” 

She scoffed. “How so?” 

“I kissed you once when I was 13 and never stopped thinking about it,” he said. “And after that evening.” 

“Would I have been so bad?” She questioned, “if we had realized it back then.”

“Think we did,” he said, “but you didn’t kiss me either.” 

“No, but—because you had asked for it.” 

“You’re right… I should’ve, but there’s a lot of things I should’ve done...still can’t believe it, how stupid I was,” he said. 

“It didn’t click you know,” she nodded. “When you broke my heart,” she continued. “I mean, the excuses you gave me… They didn’t make any sense.” 

Tom looked down. 

“And…” She sighed. 

“Would you’ve forgiven me? If I had come earlier?” He asked. 

She stared at him. “Maybe,” she admitted. “Probably, if I’m honest… I did wait for you to come again with yellow flowers, and I’d have my hand right in my heart, and I would wait for you to come and apologize and I would see it, you know, wait for you to stand up in the rain and said you didn’t mean it, and I… I was angry, alright? It was stupid letting my life pass by waiting for it besides the whole scenario...but then again, it wa shot and it’s still you and I’m—it’s silly.” 

“It’s not silly,” Tom said. “It’s you,” he took a deep breath, “and I knew you’d like that… kind of stuff, but when I finally realized it, it was too late.” 

“But it’s not late now,” she admitted. “We’re finally on time. And I’m glad I’ve always been so stubborn when it comes to you because otherwise we wouldn’t be here.” 

The evening had continued to flow, as both of them had become quieter, in a way that they didn’t need to talk to communicate, between whispers and giggles and hand brushing, it was all they needed. 

The ticking had stopped, y/n had noticed. It’d come, she knew but… God, when she was with him, she didn’t have to worry about anything. Because it seemed that it was made for them, all her doubts disappeared because he was the answer she needed. It was them against the world. 

They hadn’t talked about Valerie and William, not that night. It was Tom and y/n,.

They hadn’t kissed. Tom had ceased the kissing when James had arrived, which y/n hated, she missed his lips so much her own were begging for them. She wouldn’t ask for it. Never ask for a kiss, not out loud. 

She was wearing his jacket back on their way, he had said: ‘I wasn’t cold but I knew you’d be so that’s why I brought it’. Her hand was on his hair as he drove, listening to music, windows down as they hummed the lyrics, and as y/n stared down at the lights the city was giving her, her hair flying. 

She was sad, though, Tom hadn’t even tried to lean over and kiss her, not even seeing a hint of him trying to do so. 

They had walked in, the guys seemed to be all too invested in a video game, all except for Clark who was rather interested in playing with James’ hair as y/n’s brother yelled at the screen. He looked up when seeing them walk in, he smiled at the sight of y/n’s shoulders being covered by Tom’s jacket. 

“Hello, you two,” Clark had greeted them. 

Tom peeked to see the screen, not letting go of y/n’s hand. 

“Hi,” y/n said, knowing she’d most likely lose Tom’s attention to the screen. 

“How did it go?” Clark asked.

“Bloody hell, Samuel!” James yelled. 

“Piss off,” Harry yelled, too. 

y/n chuckled. “It went well,” she said. 

“Well?” Tom lost focus of the screen, as he turned to her. “Well?” 

She ignored him and kept staring at Clark. “Can you believe the evening has gone by so splendidly but he still hasn’t kissed me?” 

Tom immediately blushed. 

“Good,” said James. “Kissing is gross.” 

“Is it?” Clark asked before kissing his cheek. 

James coughed. “Straight kissing is gross,” he corrected himself. 

Harry laughed. 

Sam scrunched his nose. “Why haven’t you kissed her? you usually bloody eat each other’s faces.” 

Harry scoffed. 

“Don’t you dare eat my sister’s face,” James warned. “Or anything for that matter.” 

“James,” y/n closed her eyes. 

Tom laughed. “We’re gonna…” 

“No, why don’t you guys stay? We were about to play Mario Kart” Offered James. “So why don’t you both play with all of us, you know you can sit over there with your brother and y/n can sit over here, everyone’s happy.” 

“Jamey, love, don’t be a dick,” warned Clark. 

Y/N chuckled. “Fine, I want to play,” she admitted. 

“Great, mario kart is the real deal breaker between couples.” 

Of course, they hadn’t followed James’ instruction for their sitting arrangement, y/n had sat on the couch, and Tom had sat on the floor, resting his back against her. Y/N was still bothered by the fact she hadn’t yet been kissed that night, but she soon forgot it as it felt like one of those nights when they were younger, all of them playing and yelling at each other. 

Tom had left the room without any explanation at some point, but she was too busy trying to beat her brother at rainbow road to even notice. 

Time went by, and before she knew it, the lights had gone off, and they all had turned with a smirk as Tom had walked in with a cake with candles. 

‘Happy Birthday’ they all sang as she stared at the cake, pretty cake, sunflowers again. Tom kissing her cheek. 

It felt… like years ago, the Holland’s, James, and now Clark, too, of course it was Tom holding the cake now, not Harry, and now she didn’t have a wish, usually she’d plan ahead her birthday wishes, because that’s something James had taught her to. Instead, she wished for everything to keep flowing as easy as it could with Tom. Funny, how many birthday wishes had not involved him already. 

They had sat and ate cake like old times, y/n smearing some frosting to Tom’s cheek and then kissing it off, making the boy blush and getting James to glare at her. Laughing at each other, telling old jokes as y/n was laying against Tom, his arms around her and his lips brushing against her head. 

How many years had they not wasted by being enemies. 

Eventually, they had all gone to bed knowing the next day would expect them, except for Clark and James who had stayed in the kitchen. 

Tom and y/n had stayed on the couch. 

“So, I’m gonna be honest,” Tom had said as he had sat with her, he had left yet again to get something 

She only stared into his eyes, begging her with her sight to kiss her already. She should’ve probably wished for that, instead. 

“I—this wasn’t going to be your birthday present.” 

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” she said. 

He had sat up and pulled out a small box, he seemed nervous, but excited. The box… gave her shivers. But it couldn’t be. 

Y/n only smiled watching him, resenting her head against her palm. 

“I—back when,” he gulped, “back when I was still in London debating whether or not to direct dos-a-dos,” he continued. “I—well.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you because—Well,” he grinned. “I am so stupidly in love with you.” 

She only blushed. 

“So—one day,” he gulped. “I went—Well, you know, to the mall and whatsoever, and—I saw this shop.” 

“Right.” 

“And so I bought a pair of boots for me,” he said, leaning against the couch, trying to recall. “They were very—nice, you know?” 

“Uh—huh,” she rolled her eyes. “And did you bring those boots to LA?”

“No, I didn’t,” he side eyed her, “should’ve, you would have loved them.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes giggling. “I bet.” 

“But anyway, after I bought the boots—I passed by that shop you like.” 

Y/n blinked. “Care to be more specific?” 

“The one with the vinyls, and vintage stuff,” he reminded her, but she looked down at the tiny box he was holding, it definitely wasn’t anything from that shop. 

“Oh, yeah, love that place,” she smiled. 

“Yeah, and I—went in,” he admitted. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about you, everything they had… so I—“

She just waited for him to continue. 

“I bought a fee vinyls for me, too,” he nodded seriously.

 Y/n bit her lip, holding back a laugh, “amazing, which ones did you buy?” 

“I bought a Beatles one… uh, Queen.” 

“Great choices,” she grinned. “I’m proud.” 

“And of course Rolling Stones, because I thought of you,” he said. 

Y/n scooted closer to him to gently run her hands through his hair, he couldn’t hide his smile. 

“And then—One day, I went out again,” he grinned. 

“Hm-hm?” 

He coughed, “yeah, and I walked again to that one other shop you like, the one with the clothes.” 

“With the clothes,” she laughed. 

“Yeah, you know the one,” he chuckled, avoiding her gaze. 

“And did you get in?” She asked. 

“No,” he grinned. “I went for an ice cream, you know, I was really craving one.” 

She stared at him, so mesmerized by him, even when he was being the silliest. “God, I love you,” she blurted out, without really thinking of it. That’s how it should be, realy. Nothing wrong with that. 

He finally locked his eyes with her and smiled, he took her hand in his and kissed it. “Yeah, so—“he grinned, “none of that has to do with your birthday present.” 

Y/n chuckled. “Really? I thought the birthday present would be seeing you with those boots and dancing with you to the music on those vinyls and eating ice cream.” 

“Ah, that would’ve been great huh,” he grinned staring into her eyes. 

“Would’ve loved that.”

“I actually did bring the vinyls,” he admitted. 

She kissed his temple. “Great, let’s play them—“

“Yeah, but—I haven’t finished,” he admitted. “I… Well, I've had a lot of time, you know? To reflect on—on the script, on us. But especially the script.” 

Y/n stared at the features on his face, fixating on the freckles on his nose as he kept talking. 

“So, I kept avoiding the script, even if I wanted to direct it because—Well, it was your dream, I remember and I think I’ll never forget how in Rome you told me your biggest dream was making a film of a ballerina,” he said. “I—well, and I wanted to read it, but I couldn’t because I thought—well, dunno, having something yet to read was something I still had to look forward to, you know? And so I kept listening to the vinyls because they reminded me of you, and I kept—trying to find you everywhere, alright?” He confessed. “On every single face and—The days just went by and I—eventually read it.” 

Y/n silently watched him. 

“And I fell in love with it, because—it’s you. The script is so—you, it was like reading an open book about you, and I don’t mean it in the way that it’s our story, like I genuinely—you really poured heart and soul in it, the songs you put in, the setting—and, well, it was really you, you know? I know you’ve always loved 80’s movies because they seem so ridiculous but so magical.“

Y/n chuckled nervously. “Where are you going with this?”

“I know it’s your biggest dream,” he sentenced. “And well—I’m sorry I didn’t get you a pair of boots like mine.” 

She laughed rolling her eyes. 

“And I didn’t get a vinyl.” 

“Tommy,” she nudged him. 

He only handed it to her, the small box. A very stupid and scary suspicion in her head had completely been erased as she picked the small box.

As she opened it, it revealed a necklace with a small pendant of a ballerina hanging from it. The brightest beam had appeared on y/n’s face. 

“I know you’ve—never liked the idea of someone giving you jewelry, especially bracelets or necklace because they don’t hold any meaning, but—I think—I know you’re not a dancer but, I think Valerie is your own special project, and—“Tom grinned. “I was saving it to give it to you on the premier but—“

“I love it, I...No, really this… This is perfect,” she whispered looking at it. Tom had once taught her that roses weren’t always basic. And Tom had now proven to her that this didn’t have to be either, because it was them, and it held such a special meaning to her. 

She leaned over to kiss his cheek, and he only smiled. 

“I was gonna give you a T—“

“As in Troy?” She mocked. 

“That’s exactly why I didn’t.”

She laughed. “I love it.” 

He looked deep into her eyes and she just waited for it… But he didn’t kiss her. 

“Yeah, so, let’s go to sleep,” he quickly stood up, letting her fall flat on the couch. 

“Thomas,” she hissed playfully. He had already left, and she could feel his smirk from afar, so she followed after him. 

“So, you can have my bed, I’m gonna leave to sleep on the couch because that was my agreement with James,” he explained, picking up his stuff as soon as she got to the room. 

She frowned. “No?” 

“Yes,” he replied cockily. 

“I’m not letting you leave until you bloody kiss me,” she replied. 

He paused and then turned with a proud smug smirk, “Then that gives me even more reasons not to kiss you.” 

She opened her mouth to complain, but really she was in such a state of shock that not a single word came out. 

“Goodnight love,” he grinned as he headed to the door. 

“Why are you like this?” She rolled her eyes, giggling. 

Tom took a deep breath before staring her down. 

“For the love of god, kiss me.” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“One shall never ask for a kiss,” he replied smugly. 

“Are you kidding me?” She closed her eyes, not believing it. 

“No, you said it yourself,” he grinned. “Not verbally.” 

“Just shut up and come here, idiot,” she laughed before pulling him close to her, finally placing her lips on him. It felt like just the very first time, Tom and her had that magic, of making each and every kiss feel like they’ve never kissed before, so unique and so perfectly synchronized with each other. 

“Don’t you guys fucking dare to do anything,” James was just walking by with a glass of water. “People need to sleep.” 

Clark had mouthed an apology before following after. 

Y/n had pulled away and then smirked. “Want to prank him?” 

Tom had only given her a weird face. 

Y/N knew James was staying right on the next room, and that she definitely was not going to be able to do anything without him hearing, that of course, meant she could piss him off, to get back at him for being a dick. 

Y/N explained her idea to Tom, and he immediately accepted, with the sole condition to leave the door open so his life could actually be spared. 

Both Tom and y/n had settled in their places, sitting right on top of the bed, right against the headboard which was conveniently against James’ wall. 

And so they started.

Both of them repeatedly, and in perfect sync started, Tom hitting his elbows against the headboard, making sure the noise it made was perfectly identifiable as something else as y/n was jumping on the bed. 

A faint “no, no, no, no, fucking hell, no,”  had been yelled from the other room. 

Tom and y/n tried to hide in their laughter, but proceeded to make it even worse, adding dramatic moans and “oh yes!” “Y/n!” “Right there!” “Tommy!” In between. 

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Now it had been louder. 

“Jamey, love—“ 

Tom and y/n smirked and went in even louder, “yes!” “So tight!” “Harder!” “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” 

“No! No! No! No! Bloody hell y/n I’m in the bloody next room!” James yelled. “I’m gonna kill you, Thomas!” 

And then they heard the loud and quick stumping as James’ door was open as he ran to knock on y/n’s and Tom’s door, but instead, the door was wide open and he could see what actually was happening, Tom and y/n, fully clothed and not even an inch close. 

That’s when both y/n and Tom lost it, bursting into laughter. 

“YOU GUYS FUCKING SUCK!” James yelled at them before joining in their laughter, red from embarrassment. 

Clark had followed right after, laughing with them. “So that—“

Y/n couldn’t stop her laughter, even tears had come down her cheek as she stared at her brother so embarrassed, watching them. 

“I can’t believe you fell for that!” Y/N had laughed. 

Clark couldn’t stop giggling either. 

“And by the way, thanks Clark,” Tom laughed, “you’re a real one.” 

“I fucking hate you all,” James rolled his eyes. 

“Now let’s go for the real one,” Tom had joked, probably with a death wish, but he quickly regretted it, “no, no, no, I’m joking! I’m joking!” 

“You bet your ass you’re joking,” James warned before laughing again, defeated, “I hate you both.” 

He had left with Clark laughing behind him, leaving y/n and Tom still laughing at their prank. 

Laughing and laughing until they ran out of breath and laughed again. 

“Shit, I love you so much,” Tom had said with one last breath after laughing. 

“I love you, too,” she had said, “that was the best fake sex I’ve had in my life.” 

“Hm, I’m pretty sure I’ve given you the best non fake one, too,” he had said cockily. 

“Non fake,” she scoffed. 

But then they’ve gone back to laughing, eventually somehow it transformed into kissing, and they had spent the night kissing, and giggling and nothing more, probably because they were aware that it was a very risky situation having James right beside and honestly, they were decent but mostly because they didn’t need more. Just the two of them laying down, and merging their lips together, becoming one with the other, was all they needed. 

The next day was rather perfect, filming had gone as smoothly as it could go, and though they kept their distance because they were professionals, y/n could tell there was something different about her and Tom. Not sure what but it felt like things could work out. A ray of hope, if one must say. 

There had been more cake, more people congratulating her for her birthday and just—Flowers. Sunflowers here and there, Along with blue hydrangeas. Pretty combination. Tom had made sure to fill up the place. She did love the sunflowers. Her mother calling her, auntie Eliza sending her pink carnations, it was—good. Especially after they told everyone about their prank, that made it even better. 

“You do have that fake sex aftermath glow,” Emma had joked. 

Perfect day, a perfect day until the sun was yawning down, she had put on her best clothes, and she was nervous. Not sure why though.

Tom had invited the cast as well. Nothing could go wrong, and it definitely wasn’t going to, right? Y/N had thought maybe it was a good day after all. 

The place had been packed and the first song playing had been Ironic by Alanis Morissette, James had been the first one to point it out, he really liked that song. And though the combination of friends seemed like the perfect recipe for disaster, y/n thought it had gone calmly. At least at the beginning. 

The club seemed to be picked out of y/n’s dreams, an 80’s and 70’s paradise playing the songs she loved to sing along to. There was a karaoke, too, in the background, separate from the dance floor. Honestly, the place was perfect. Fun. 

And y/n had ignored Cherry’s presence as long as she could, she hadn’t been rude, but of course she’d been avoiding her, because the moment she saw her, y/n did feel insecure. She had shown up with a tight dress that gave nothing to the imagination, and her hair perfectly falling down her shoulders, her whole body shimmered. She was beautiful, beyond compare, perfect. 

“Y/N!” She had greeted her. “I’m so glad I see you, I love your dress, hun, happy birthday!” 

Her high pitched tone had only made y/n even more insecure. And y/n had seen her dancing, she’d caught Josh’s attention, it had seemed. Even Asa’s and Gregg’s attention. Because of course she would, the girl was perfect. 

“Is Tim your boyfriend?” Cherry had asked y/n. 

“What?” Y/N didn’t know if she’d heard right. “No… No, he’s not.” 

“Oh, I thought he was!” 

“Happy birthday!” Someone had yelled as they popped off a bottle. 

Y/N could take care of Cherry later, who was actually picking out mostly everyone’s attention. 

“Who is she?” Josh had asked her. “If it weren’t for Emma, I’d say she’s the prettiest girl in the world.” 

There was a lot to unpack from Josh’ statement. 

“That’s my cousin,” she explained. “She’s single, so why don’t you give it a go?” Y/N had suggested, knowing perfectly that if he did, she’d take away another problem. Because she’d seen Harry anxious the moment Josh had showed up.  

Y/N didn’t know why she felt like Harry did know about Josh, she wasn’t sure but the same face Harry was giving Josh was the face Y/N gave to Cherry. 

Initially, she had seen Cherry approach Tom, she had whispered  something in his ear, and he had only gulped before walking off to one of his brothers. It made y/n anxious. 

“You know what? You should go and sing Jolene,” Emma suggested, y/n could tell that Emma probably was slightly dizzy, as she had dragged her, Clark and Auli’i to the dance floor, a...very strange combination. Y/N was just a bit bothered by this, since she wanted to be with Tom, or rather, she wanted to pull him away from where Cherry was. 

“Jolene?” Auli’i laughed. Felt rather weird for y/n hanging out with celebrities. Tom didn’t count… Not in that way, at least. 

“Yes, Jolene,” Emma said. “I’m begging you please don’t take my man!” 

“Your man?” Auli’i had asked. “As in Tom?” 

Y/N chuckled. “Uh...Well….er.” 

“Please, you’re dating, right?” She laughed. 

Y/N didn’t answer. 

“Please, it’s kind of obvious,” Auli’i explained. “You guys have tried to be subtle but we all know it.” 

Well, there goes their attempt at trying to be professional. It didn’t matter, honestly. But it did bother her knowing that Cherry was the only girl in there, but thankfully, her own brother had kept Cherry occupied, thank god.  

Y/N was also bothered by the fact Tom wasn’t by her side,  just slightly bothered. She guessed, however, that he was having fun with his brothers. She wondered where Timmy was, because all she could see was the guys, and Cherry, at the table getting their asses drunk. 

Especially Timmy. 

Emma had dragged them back to the place, y/n had  tried to get close to Tom, who had also tried to pull her close to him, but somehow she had been dragged away again. It was annoying, and the night kept going like that. She hadn’t had one single minute with Tom, and it was bothering her. Tom, too, it seemed. 

Tom was very bothered by the fact that y/n kept being pulled by her friends, not that they were doing it to specifically bother him, but it was… annoying. Also, having Cherry around, was not a perfect situation, especially because she was insisting on talking to him. What in this world was she trying to do? 

He didn’t want to deal with that, he only wanted to have fun. Besides, a club with loud music was definitely not the place to talk. Not on his… girlfriend’s? Birthday celebration. 

The night was getting blurry, to him, to everyone. Half past twelve, it was getting darker, and the drinks had come and gone, drink after drink.  Everyone seemed to be having a very good time, and he wasn’t sure but the lights on the club had probably lowered, flashes green and yellow were blinding him. The group was constantly divided, and he had had only a small chance to dance with y/n. The music was buzzing too loud, as he escaped through the crowds, trying to find y/n, and he saw her, dancing with everyone and then, Timmy had dragged her close to him, she didn’t even notice as she danced and sang along to the… 70’s, yeah 70’s song playing. Tom feared it, because it’s not difficult to know when someone wants to kiss the person you’re in love with. Tim was drunk, Tom knew this, and the look in his eyes was saying everything. And though he didn’t see that look on y/n, he feared it. 

Tom quickly had pulled her by the hand and finally wrapped his arms around her so they could dance. 

Tim had only rolled his eyes but kept dancing with Emma. 

“Hi!” y/n had cheered as soon as she saw Tom. 

“Hey!” 

“Where have you been?” She asked, leaning to his ear.  

“Here and there,” he admitted, she only giggled to lean over to kiss him. 

Everything was going too quickly, the lights and music were not helping. They had barely danced before Emma had dragged y/n. 

“I’m sorry, Tom, but it’s y/n’s and I turn to go to the karaoke!” Emma had said before getting her away. 

“You were getting too comfortable,” Tom had barked at Tim. 

“Pff,” Tim had scoffed. “You’re scared it’ll happen again?” 

“What?” Tom frowned. “I’m-- she’s with me.” 

“Yet she slept with me just before you arrived,” Tim had blurted. 

Tom had felt the music getting louder, and louder, just as Tim had left and Tom was sunk into the dancing crowd. 

He didn’t have to believe him… right? 

In the state of shock, he only tried to follow after where Emma and y/n were heading.The karaoke music was playing, Emma had chosen ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man after midnight!)’ for her and y/n to sing, and they had started, happily singing as she was so unaware of what Tom was feeling right now. Not sure if it was anger, disappointment, jealousy, or all at once. 

The group had followed after them, too, as they were expectant to see the birthday girl, first receiving a very flattering shot of… Tom thought it was probably vodka as soon as she got to the stage. Emma and her sang and yelled, and the group danced and danced. Emma being such a crowd pleaser, yelling and making them cheer. 

Tom couldn't. 

Is there a man out there? Someone to hear my prayers…

There was no sight of Tim, that was alright, he guessed. But then it… Tom’s mind went to every single time he’d seen her around Tim. It was so fucking obvious, of course they had slept together, and y/n probably still had feelings for him. 

Tom was the only one who wasn’t dancing. 

Emma had jumped off the stage to land on Josh, and then without even thinking about it, she had kissed him, right in front of Harry. 

Sam and Clark had joined y/n on the stage, everyone was just too bloody drunk, and the song seemed to be never ending. Or maybe Tom hadn’t noticed when it had changed, it sounded like another ABBA song. And it was… ‘Voulez-Vous’. Now it was Y/N, Sam and Clark. 

Tom didn’t even realize when Cherry was around him, and it probably was the alcohol working out but he danced with her. Not sure why. 

Y/N saw it, right from the stage, but luckily Clark had been kind enough to dance with her as someone else had hopped to the stage to sing with them, now that y/n was definitely not able to sing. 

And just as the song was ending, and as the next group of girls had popped on the stage,  she saw it, perfectly happening, Cherry’s lips were on Tom’s. 

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[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House Part 5.2

Vikings College AU, Dom/sub/Dom,  Ivar x Reader, Ubbe x Reader

It’s a broke, submissive college girl’s dream: living for free with your two crushes in exchange for doing all the housework. The Lothbrok boys wanted a “thrall,” and now you’re hoping they’ll notice that you’re game for all kinds of “services.” Ivar seems to know exactly what you’re looking for, but you’ve never met a Dom so mysterious, constantly keeping you off-balance and not sure what to expect next. And then there’s his brother Ubbe, who may not understand the kind of game you’re trying to play here, but makes up for it in raw sexiness and eager desire for you. But will these two strong-willed boys be able to play nice and share you as you live out one of your hottest fantasies with them both?

This fic is so far away from canon that it should be accessible to anyone that can imagine being in college and wanting to be submissive to two hot bros at the same time. 

Catch up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 (you can also find the whole thing on ao3)

A/N: after an embarrassingly long hiatus, I think I’m ready to finish this fic now. I have all the rest of it planned out, I think there will be 3 more chapters. And if I continue my streak of posting the chapters in part 1 and 2 chunks here on Tumblr, then I guess you have a lot to look forward to!

Also, you might want to review the previous section; what’s included below is pretty much all smut straight through. If you need a little seduction to get back in the mood first, the first half of the chapter is here.

Ubbe’s cock feels so good under your hand. How long had you been dreaming about touching it? How many times has he taunted you with the sight of it, letting you know how you had been affecting him on the most primal of levels. You take the time to savor it now, stroking that tantalizingly wide shaft through the thick fabric of his jeans.

“Do you like that?” Ubbe asks you, voice slow and thick. He’s got one hand on the wheel, one hand on the stick, and he keeps his eyes mostly on the road even as you slide and sculpt around the length of him. Ubbe drives like a speed demon, and apparently he can’t take it easy even with a distraction like you and your willing hand in his car. He shifts gears and tilts the wheel in tight, expert little motions, passing another car he deemed to be driving too slow. You know from driving with him in the past that just about everybody on the road qualifies for that judgment.

“I do,” you answer, with what you hope wasn’t too much self-conscious hesitation.

“Yeah?” Ubbe takes his hand off the shifter just long enough to pop open the button at the top of his fly, angling his hips enough to ease the zipper down. “Want to take a closer look?” He keeps his eyes on the road, letting you stare at the perfect profile of his chiseled face.

You never realized before this moment how much lust and hunger could feel similar. The prospect of getting your hands, and probably your mouth if the streets were dark enough, on Ubbe’s cock is actually making your mouth water right now.

Your fingers dance up to the opening in his fly. Ubbe puts his hand back on the shifter and leans his hips a little further, making more room for you. A heavy breath escapes him as your fingertips dive under the fabric.

The noise makes your submissive soul tingle. You’re quite sure Lauren or Sonya wouldn’t stoop to giving a guy road head before he’d even taken them out on a date, when you’d barely even had time to share more than a few breathless kisses yet, but you like feeling a little bit like a whore. If Ubbe wants this right now, why on earth would you withhold it from him?

You slide your fingertips across his lower belly, seeking the waistband of his boxer briefs. You allow yourself to indulge just a little in tracing your fingers along his skin, playing with the trail of hairs that tempt you lower. Ubbe rumbles an appreciative little sound, though you can almost detect a little whine at the end of it. He wants you to get on with it, doesn’t he.

Your fingers slip under the elastic band and feel down along the warmth of his body. The hairs get thicker and thicker as you go, though you can tell Ubbe keeps them cropped fairly short down here. You make contact with the side of his shaft; he’s angled mostly up and a little bit away from you, and you tickle your fingers up and down the edge of it.

“Fuck,” Ubbe whispers through his teeth; then, without looking away from the road: “are you teasing me right now?”

You give him a cute giggle, and a few more light, quick fingertip strokes. “Maybe.”

His brow crinkles, crookedly, and he glances at you like he can’t quite believe what he just heard. “I thought you were a good girl.” Blood rushes to your face. “Or do you want me to treat you like a bad girl, hm?” Watching you out of the corner of his eye, he reaches behind your head, curling his fingers into your hair, close to the scalp just above your neck. He tugs once, and you moan at the tiny pain.

You accept the reprimand, relishing the way he’s taken control of your head, and push your fingers deeper into his pants. You wrap them around the warm velvet iron of his shaft. The contact feels electric against your palm.

He groans, first tightening his grip on your hair, creating a sharp pain, and then releasing it quickly, as if he had only just realized how hard he was pulling. He scratches your scalp in an appreciative caress as you trace your loosely-cupped fist up and down the length of him. “Fuck.”

There is barely any room to work him while still inside his pants. You’re just pondering whether you should take his dick out, and what’s the best route for that, when Ubbe stops the car at a traffic light. The street isn’t busy, but there is another vehicle waiting alongside yours. Still not as much privacy as you would like.

Ubbe’s hand leaves the shifter, returning to the back of your head and pulling you toward him, his mouth meeting yours halfway for a searing kiss that seems to go on and on. He breaks away as decisively as he went in, shifting gears before you’ve even opened your eyes, barely crossing the intersection before he’s shoving the top of his undies down, letting the full length of his cock spring free.

It’s magnificent in the flashing lights of the passing streetlights. The ruddy head of it looks positively swollen with need, and you lean over his hand on the shifter to wrap your lips around its tip. You flit your tongue, tasting the salt of pre-cum. More evidence of how much he’s been longing for you.

A guttural groan comes out of Ubbe’s throat. It sounds both pleasured and exasperated, and after you give him just one more lick, his arm that’s underneath your bent torso is pushing you up and away. He needs to shift the gearstick. You lift your head to see the oncoming red glow of another traffic signal.

Turns out, there are too many traffic stops on the drive home for you to give Ubbe any proper road head. Every time you lean down to run your tongue around that fat, glorious head, you get in no more than a few licks before he needs room to shift gears again. The whole stick shift thing is suddenly feeling a lot less sexy.

Settling back into your seat, you keep your hand wrapped loosely around his shaft, arm snaked under his and giving him plenty of room to change gears. You’re counting down the minutes with lazy strokes and firm squeezes until he pulls into the parking garage attached to your building.

You can’t help but notice that Ivar’s car is in its assigned parking space as Ubbe backs into his own beside it. He must be inside the apartment. It’s impressive, really, how Ubbe is able to reverse the car so competently between the narrow lines while your fist is still gripping his rock-hard erection. As soon as he’s got the car in ‘park,’ he kills the headlights, but does not turn off the engine. He reaches across to pull you in for a kiss, wild and needy. His mouth plays expertly across your own, sucking and nipping until you’re sure your lips will be swollen.

“Fuck, babydoll, you want it bad, don’t you,” Ubbe groans against your cheek. His mouth assaults your neck again, teeth grazing your skin and tugging at your ear. “Such a dirty little girl, grabbing a guy’s cock when he’s just trying to drive her home.” His kiss claims your mouth again before you can answer. You tug harder and he squares his hips toward you. He breaks away after one last a flourish of his tongue and wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pointing your face toward his straining cock. “Let’s see how far can you fit that down your throat.”

Your pussy clenches on nothing and you moan as you bend down to show him. You’re still not sure if Ubbe has any idea about doing BDSM the “right” way like Ivar does, but his frat boy, bad-porn style of dirty talk is working for you anyway. Your head is spinning at the whirlwind this night has turned into, as you suck his cock deep into your mouth. Not in a bad way, though; you’ve built enough of a relationship with Ubbe over the past weeks to know there’s a caring guy behind this disrespectful façade. It’s safe to let this thing get a little wild.

His cock is thick. It’s hard work to suck him down deeper, and the press of his blunt head at the back of your throat bothers you a little as you strive to show Ubbe just how far you can take him. Judging by his noises, you’re doing well, though, and his hands clench and un-clench in your hair as your head bobs up and down. Like he wants to encourage you but he’s holding himself back from choking you on the damn thing. “Fuck, that’s good, oh, take it deep like that.”

Soon instead of pushing you down, his clutching fingers start pulling you up.

“Get up here, straddle me, I want to see you.”

You kick your heels off quick as you can. Ubbe rips at the seat control and lays it back almost flat, giving you just enough space to plant your knees to either side of his hips on the expensive leather and hover your body over his. Your hands land on his shoulders, keeping you balanced while hunched under the roof, and while your faces are almost close enough to kiss again, Ubbe’s eyes are focused lower.

His palms run up your thighs, greedy, still muttering filthy nothings while pushing your skirt up until you remember you’re not wearing anything underneath it. You make a warning noise and he slows down, sliding around to the sides and then exploring the bottom curve of your ass carefully, reawakening the welts Ivar left there without causing any new damage. His gaze comes back to your face, pupils widening, as his hands cover both your cheeks. Reaching that far lifts his upper body closer to yours but still he doesn’t kiss you. Your skirt’s now shoved up high enough that you know your whole pussy would be visible through the front windows, if anyone were to come walking by. He spreads you further, and you wonder if he’s thinking about that too.

Does he want Ivar to catch you? Does he know you’ll be punished? Or does he not want the interruption, is that the reason that Ubbe’s tracing his fingers between your legs out here, and not taking you inside to his more comfortable bed. The questions blur and scatter as his finger slides along the slick he finds between your inner lips.

“Fuck, dirty girl,” he marvels, “you really like getting treated like this. You’re so fucking wet for me.” But he doesn’t plunge his fingers in like you’re expecting, like he did out on the balcony back at the party. Instead his hands slide up your sides, coming to scoop around your breasts, leaving your skirt rucked up high. “I want your tits out.” He pushes the straps of your tank top and bra down your shoulders, far enough to scoop your breasts out into the thin light of the parking garage’s scattered fluorescents. “That’s my beautiful, slutty little girl. Just imagine if someone came by and saw you like this.”

He slaps you across the side of your ass, lightly, but you’re sensitive enough to jump and moan just from that. His eyes follow the bounce of your breasts, hanging out of your shirt above him. Your clothes are still technically on, but they’re not covering anything important, are they.

“I love the idea of someone else seeing what I got to watch last night,” he murmurs, and then his fingertips are sliding between your slick folds again. “Would you come for me right here, with your pussy pointed right out the windshield?”

You moan in agreement, and his fingers find your clit. He keeps on muttering filthy nothings as he traps it with his fingers and squeezes, then rocks in circles that make your toes curl. His other hand squeezes into your thigh, trying to pull you closer. His lips trace the skin of your neck.

“Fuck. I can’t wait anymore.” The growling edge of his voice sounds ragged and you absolutely believe him on that. You’re feeling it too; his fingertip on your clit is amazing but after all the buildup of the past few days you need so much more than just a little teasing. “Will you ride me?”

You look down at his cock, still springing tall and proud from his open jeans, framed by your knees. You want nothing more than to sink right down onto it. “Do you have a condom?” you somehow remember to ask.

Ubbe grins darkly, and with only a little digging produces one from his pocket.

You pluck it from his fingers. “Let me.”

You’re so conscious of his eyes on your body as you sit up and concentrate on tearing the little packet open. Your bare thighs, your pert and exposed nipples, the teasing glimpse of your pussy that’s surely visible to him under the skirt that’s been pushed up to your hipbones.

Ubbe’s looking like a wet dream himself, reclined underneath you with his shirt riding up over cut abs, a light trail of hair leading down from his navel to the base of his straining cock. His pale eyes are rapt and so hungry he’s almost begging.

But only almost. As you roll the slippery latex over his fat head, a predatory spark blooms across his features. His fingers spasm and you know that as soon as you get this condom situated, you’re all his.

He scoops up your ass with both hands, pulling you closer to line yourself up. “You might be Ivar’s in there,” he murmurs, and there’s no trace of unhappiness in the words, “but right now you’re all mine. Show me. Sink yourself right down on it for me.”

So he does know. And, apparently, is entirely cool with the situation. You tease yourself with the tip of him for a moment, gliding it along your inner folds. With his eyes locking onto yours, Ubbe spits into his fingers and reaches out to coat your entrance, a cocky look on his face like he knows exactly how wide he is and how you’re going to need this to take him all the way in. Then he grasps himself at the base and presses in between your slick folds.

The stretch feels amazing as you sink down onto him. His fat cock fills you up and just keeps coming, inch after delicious inch. When your hips come to rest against his you just stay there for a while, reveling in it, gloriously full.

He bumps his hips, just a little, and you shudder. Even a small movement has a huge effect with a cock like his, making you feel tight and delicate above him. “Not too much for you already, am I princess?” he teases.

“Ho—just hold on,” you gasp, holding onto his shoulder and trying to get a grip so you don’t just drool in his face.

But Ubbe doesn’t want to see you get control of yourself. He wants to see you a panting mess. “Like this?” he says, grasping one of your hips in each hand, squeezing hard and pulling you against him even tighter.

“Ah!” you squeal, but maybe the motion feels better, despite the intensity. You rock against him, taking a shuddering breath in, and find that all that stretch melts into pure pleasure when he’s moving inside you.

“Is that how you like it, babygirl.” He turns his hips up to meet yours, matching your rhythm as he stares up at your face. “You’re taking it so good for me.”

His thrusts start to hit harder, and it becomes more difficult to keep up as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through in his wake.

“Fuck, yeah, this tight little thing. I love to feel you ride me.”

You try and rally, forcing your core muscles to keep moving because that’s what Ubbe wants. Even though his sweet impaling is making your legs feel weak.

“That’s it. Stay up just like that.” His hand has found the back of your neck and he’s coaxing you to sit up as straight as you can inside this car, bouncing over him. “You look amazing. Keep your back straight.”

Every demeaning little instruction just makes you wetter, your core burning and stretching around his fat hog with each pornographic phrase that comes out of his mouth.

“God, your pussy’s tight. I want to feel you cum all over my dick.”

He brings his hand between your bodies, finding your clit and batting a rapid, back-and-forth rhythm across it.

“Just stay up—keep sitting up high and pretty for me so I can watch you cum.”

It doesn’t take long, not with the string of filthy words that keep coming out of his mouth, not with his expert finger on your clit and the staccato bounce of his cock buried to the hilt inside you. You press your lips together so that you don’t wail as you come to pieces all around him.

As soon as you gasp in your next breath, Ubbe’s grabbing your hips again, taking over all the movements and not giving you even a moment’s rest after your peak. He fucks up into you, fast and hard and with more force than you thought one could accomplish from the driver’s seat of a tiny sports car. You bury your face in your shoulder to stop from yelping, hands clutching at his shoulders as he groans and drives himself on. “Fuck—yeah. Fuck—yeah.”

He’s hollowing you out. The aftershocks of your orgasm feel like little climaxes of their own, given that Ubbe is still bucking up into you for all that he’s worth. You’re panting, gasping into his ear and you can’t decide if you need him to finish right the fuck now, or if you want this to go on forever.

His whole body strains, and a long, wrecked sound pushes between his teeth and against your ear. He holds you to him tight, shuddering through wave after wave of his evidently spectacular finish. “Oh,” he finally pants, with a concluding-style tone, “fuck. Yeah.” His arms wrap you up tight as his entire body relaxes underneath you. “Wow, Y/N. Just, wow.”

You’re floating. Shimmering high above the clouds, luxurious and electrified both at once. You nuzzle into Ubbe’s neck and he shifts to make room for you there, inviting the post-coital snuggle.

Except, absolutely nothing else about your current position is comfortable. As your consciousness comes back down to earth, your knees are screaming and your ass feels way too conspicuously bare up here in the front seat. The steering wheel is likely not providing it much cover. You shift, and Ubbe nuzzles your cheek before letting you go. He holds the bottom of the condom down as you disengage and swing yourself back as gracefully as you can into the passenger seat.

Ubbe tilts his own seat high enough to be even with yours again. He rolls his face toward you, peaceful and present. As soon as you’ve got your shirt covering your chest again, he’s reaching out to take your hand.

“You’re really ok with this.” It’s not really a question, though he’s looking at you like he wants a response. “Both of us.”

Warmth blooms through your body as you continue to straighten your clothes. “I’m the one that should be surprised, that you’re cool with it.”

Ubbe smiles, a little darkly. “Ivar and I, we’ve got a way that we work things out. When we both want the same thing.” His thumb is playing idly with the side of your finger.

“I think I’m gathering that.”

You’re still settling your skirt back into its correct place when you hear the stairwell door swing open. The sound of Ivar’s crutches on the concrete confirm the nervous thrill that runs through you at the noise; you look down at your fingers entwined between Ubbe’s. Does this count as “his hands on you?” You glance up to meet Ubbe’s eyes nervously. He squeezes once and then lets go with a soft, conspiratory smile.

You smooth your skirt one last time and try not to look too suspicious as Ivar comes past Ubbe’s car on the way to his own.

His face lights up when he catches your eye through the glass. “Y/N, I was hoping you would be back soon!” He nods to his brother. “So kind of Ubbe to drive you home.”

Ubbe nods with a grunt that only sounds a little bit annoyed. There is a bit of smugness to Ivar’s smile.

“Forgot my phone,” Ivar says, holding it up after rummaging through his car. “Let’s go inside, shall we? I was just about to start a movie.”

 It’s too difficult to concentrate on the film he wants to show you. You’d rather think about how good it feels to be tucked under Ivar’s arm, snuggled up in the dark, even if it is a little odd that the guy that just fucked your brains out is now the one back in his bed sleeping alone.

Ivar’s fingers are dancing over your limbs, slowly, intermittently, as you pretend you’re paying attention to the movie. There’s nothing urgent about it; his fingertips just seem to like to explore.

He tickles at the base of your hairline, rolls his face into the crook of your neck. How are you supposed to think about anything but that? If he starts kissing you, you’re just going to turn off the movie.

“You’re lucky that you had your clothes back on,” Ivar murmurs in your ear. His fingers keep playing idly with your hair. “I came so close to catching you.”

You emit a sort of small animal noise. You know you didn’t violate any of his instructions today, but you still feel deliciously trapped.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks, tone even, and a little bit amused.

“Mhm,” you answer in a small voice.

He nips at the edge of your ear. “Did he make you cum?”

Somehow the question sends heat flooding between your legs all over again. You’re not sure if it’s the right answer, but you nod ‘yes.’

Ivar’s fingers dig in for a moment. “Good.” Then they go back to drawing little circles all over your skin. “Tight space in that car,” he murmurs. “Were you riding him?”

Does Ivar like thinking about this as much as you do? Or is all of this some kind of trap. “Uh huh.”

Get up here, on my lap.” He pulls on your leg, setting you up to straddle him. “Let me look at you.”

You spread your legs for the second time tonight, bridging Ivar’s lap and grateful that the couch is soft enough under your overworked knees. Your pussy is already throbbing. Or did it never stop throbbing since Ubbe so thoroughly beat it up?

Ivar looks up at you, perfectly pleased by everything he sees. “Do you know how obvious it is when you’re aroused?”

You try to stop your face from flushing.

“I can tell so easily. Your lips part”—he reaches up, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip, peeling it down a little further—“your lashes get heavy, but your eyes sharpen.” His fingers trail down your collarbone. “Your skin somehow glows.”

He has to be making half of that up, but it sounds good. You put your hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t touch me, touch yourself.”

You bring your hands to your breasts, a little awkward. You wish he would let you admire his body too. Maybe you’ll ask him for that later.

He leans in, saying the next words a little lower. “You like the idea that we are both going to use you now, whenever and however we want.”

His words make you moan in agreement, and you scoop up your tits and nod.

“Our little thrall.” Affection and possessiveness drip in equal measure from his lips. “You wanted it as much as I did. I could tell, when I said it that day. You started to glow then, too.”

His fingers dance over your thighs, but he does not try to push up under your skirt.

“Tell me how much you love to be at our disposal.”

You purr for him, a little embarrassed but more than turned on enough to say some dirty things for him. “I’m all yours.” You rock your hips gently against him, mindful not to put too much pressure on his legs, and “I love letting you… have me, any part of me you want.”

“Whenever I want.”

“Whenever you want.”

“No matter how many times you’ve already come today.”

You definitely feel a flush after that one. Ivar’s hands trace up your waist, then catch at your wrists and push your hands down your body.

“Touch yourself for me now.”

You arch your back and sneak your hand into the waistband of the skirt, happy to ease the ache that’s been growing between your legs. You go right to your favorite spot, closing your eyes and making soft sounds of delight for him.

Ivar’s fingers dig into your thighs. The pain only heightens your excitement. “I almost feel sorry for you. Ubbe’s an animal, you know. Now that you’re ours he’s going to grab you every time he needs to nut and my God, that guy usually whacks it several times a day.” Although you may not be sure what, exactly Ivar gets out of telling you this, the thought is certainly sending your own arousal skyrocketing. “But then, no matter how he uses you, then”—he whacks your bottom swiftly, reactivating the bruises he left there last night—“you will always, always be ready for me.” He grabs at your wrist, making sure you’re still going, still working yourself as eagerly as he wants. “Even right afterwards. Won’t you.”

You hum and nod and press yourself even faster.

“Show me,” he urges, face dark and rapt as he stares up at your writhing passion. “Show me how your body can be so fucked out and still so absolutely ready for me.”

You moan and spread your legs wider, bringing yourself close to the edge but not wanting the moment to be over just yet. You try to keep your eyes open, staring at the way Ivar’s pupils have gone so wide there’s barely any blue, the way he licks his lips as he looks down the line of your body.

One of his hands finally slides underneath your skirt. His fingers climb quickly, his target clear when he runs one fingertip up and down your pussy. His growl is a deeply pleased noise. “So wet. That’s good, you’ll need it.” He presses more firmly; your swollen lips are tender from fitting all of Ubbe in and you jump. Ivar’s other hand is at the small of your back, catching you, holding you down.

Somehow the invasion of that one finger is as powerful to your system as Ubbe’s entire cock. Maybe it’s the way that Ivar’s gorgeous face is smirking up at you, or the sting still echoing through your abused backside, but all he has to do is press that one finger up and into you and suddenly your body is clamping down and spasming an unexpected release all around it.

You moan and writhe and keep working your own clit as the moment stretches on; you hadn’t planned to come so fast but you’re certainly going to make the most out of it. Judging by the praise Ivar’s murmuring up at you as you ride the waves of climax, you’re giving him exactly what he wanted.

When you’ve thoroughly exhausted your second fantastic orgasm of the day, you try and slump comfortably against your lover. “Stay up,” he orders instead. “Keep your back straight, I’m not done looking.”

And so you sit up straight above him, closing your eyes and letting only your head sag a little as you try and catch your breath coming down. Ivar makes it difficult by wiggling that finger inside you several times more, making pleased noises at the way you shudder and struggle to deal with the overstimulation.

“So gorgeous,” he whispers. Then he finally withdraws his finger, and draws you down to snuggle against his chest.

His hands spread wide and happy across your back. “Sorry I came so fast,” you feel compelled to say.

“Are you kidding? What better compliment could there be. You can’t control yourself around me.”

You both smile.

“I know you will always have more for me.” He pulls you down to settle into the couch beside him, grabbing a blanket to spread over the two of you. “I really do want to show you this movie, though.” He lifts the remote and presses rewind. “No more distractions now.”

On to Chapter 6

Taglist is open: @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg @rekdreams247 @what-the-heart-desires @inforapound @creepshowzombae @tomarisela @vladsgirlfriend@youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon@funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog @earl-aive @supernaturalvikingwhore @equalstrashflavoredtrash @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen @ceridwenofwales @grungyblonde @pokeasleepingsmaug @hvittysmutanon @honestsycrets @wuxiesalt @thorins-queen-of-erebor @writingfromasgard @tootie-fruity @lordsexmachine @uncomfortable-writers @sadbutatleastsassy @sweatstreatz01 @ritual-unions-gotme

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Those Linked by Destiny (2)

Summary: Bucky, Sam, and Natasha are on a mission to once again defeat Hydra who this time had opened a time portal that unleashed monsters and beasts that were extinct for centuries for good reason. On the way, they try to recruit the only remaining person who had any knowledge on how to defeat these creatures. Her kind also almost extinct. A Witcher.

Fandoms: Avengers, The Witcher

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Witcher!OFC (Female)

Warnings: Angst (coz this is me), Dry Dark Humour, Violence, Gore, Lots of Blood, Burning Sarcasm, Lots of Cussing

A/N: Hello, beautiful creatures! I’m back with a new hurricane of a crossover. This continues on from my completed series There’s More Than One Way To Start An Apocalypse (AvengersxSupernatural) but this can be read by itself. I made this an OFC instead of an xReader since I needed to be specific with how the Witcher character looked. I hope you enjoy and I welcome all kinds of feedback.

No permission is granted to repost my work. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Masterlist

2: Terms of Payment

Sam woke with a start taking loud deep breaths, his lungs feeling like they were burning. His hands began patting his naked torso urgently as he remembered that he had been severely injured. He found no traces of injury though aside from the dried blood that should have accompanied open wounds.

What sorcery was this?

His companions were alerted by the sudden noise that broke the peaceful silence. Bucky quickly jumped to his feet off of the sofa he had been sleeping on and knelt at his friend's side to carefully check him. Natasha almost fell off the arm chair she had folded herself into, choosing to forego the comfortable king size bed upstairs in favor of being nearer to her team. Prima slowly straightened her back in her corner, not even bothering to open her eyes.

"Sam! How are you feeling?" Bucky said gripping his shoulder and staring at him intently.

His eyes snapped to Bucky. He had been so disoriented and out of it that he hadn't even checked his surroundings first. He mentally scolded himself for that.

"I feel fine. I think," he answered still feeling confused as to how exactly he was fine. He was feeling better than fine as if his injuries had not happened at all. His attention was stolen when a small vial landed softly on his blanketed lap.

"Drink it."

He blinked at the complete stranger comfortably stretched out six feet from him that he hadn't even noticed until she spoke. There was something about the commanding tone that made him follow her instruction without question. He choked and spluttered on the liquid when she opened her eyes and met his.

"What the damn hell?"

Natasha swatted the back of his head making him flinch. "Don't be rude. That's Prima. She saved your sorry ass."

"Wait. You're Prima?"

She smirked, a gesture that oddly made a shiver run down Sam's spine. There was such a sharp disturbing contrast between her playfully colorful outer appearance and the cold almost malicious expression she wore.

"Sorry to disappoint," she drawled.

"Disappoint isn't exactly the word I would use."

She chuckled lightly before eyeing Natasha. "I have fulfilled my end of the agreement. Your friend is alive and well and this should consider us even. You may leave in the morning."

She pulled herself to her feet causing the cat to jump off her lap. She intended to make her way up to her bedroom to sleep off the rest of the night, but was halted by three sets of serious eyes boring into her. She read Natasha's expression and sighed in defeat.

"What?"

"We need your help, Prima," Natasha said, a soft plea in her tone.

"I was under the impression that I had already helped," she grunted. "What is this really about?"

"Hydra," Bucky said simply, the disgust in his voice apparent.

Prima rolled her eyes. "No. Hydra is your problem. Hydra is an Avengers problem, not mine."

Natasha shook her head and stared at her in worry. "This time is different, Prima."

Prima held her finger up to stop the conversation urgently as her ears picked up a sound that she had not heard for over two centuries now. It was a low rumbling malicious growl followed by a howl that pierced the night.

"What the hell was that?" Bucky whispered under his breath, his sensitive hearing picking up what the Witcher had.

Two more howls interrupted the night. Distinct. Angry. Out for blood. There was more than one.

"Werewolves," Prima said picking up her axe nonchalantly and making her way to her potions. "At least three."

She picked up a bottle and a rag from the shelf. Bucky looked on curiously as she soaked the rag with the contents of the bottle and began casually wiping it on the blades of her axe. The roar grew close enough that Sam and Natasha were able to hear it. They were closing in.

All three Avengers sat ram rod straight, their bodies automatically tense and at attention at the impending threat. Bucky scowled at how unbothered and unrushed Prima appeared.

What the hell was she doing polishing her weapon now of all times?

The Winter Soldier grunted as he stood up and made his way out of the backdoor. Sam and Natasha were following close behind with their own weapons at the ready by their sides.

"Sera taught us how to deal with werewolves. We got this," Sam affirmed to the team as they stepped out into the chill of the late night.

The growls grew louder and out from the thicket of trees emerged three towering werewolves like they've never seen before. Much taller than humans even in their hunched stance, bulky and all muscle, long sharp claws, and topped off by a snarling wolf head. It was a disturbing twisted blend of human and wolf. It was nothing like the werewolves that they had seen. These were more monstrous, more vicious, more detached from their humanity. They were also fast approaching.

"What the fuck?" Natasha breathed taking a step back.

The three of them were so preoccupied trying to process the scene in front of them that they didn't register Prima coming from behind them until she stood a few steps in front with her axe comfortably hooked over her shoulder out of habit.

The three werewolves let out a threatening collective roar before charging as a unit toward the house. The Avengers were on high alert at the movement, but Prima remained unbothered in her stance.

"Prima, watch out!" Sam yelled over the heavy thumping of wolf feet. He gripped his shield and got ready to toss it straight through their necks.

Prima answered by turning her head to show them her profile which had a chilling smirk on it. She lifted her arm out with her fingers in a peculiar formation as the monsters rushed forward. A single word escaped her lips.

"Ignis."

Jesus fuck!

Bucky stared wide eyed and open mouthed as a wide angry stream of blazing fire blasted from her outstretched hand and burned through the werewolves. They were in the middle of screaming in pain when she launched herself at them swinging her axe over her head and efficiently slicing through one clear through its neck.

She gripped her axe this time with both hands and pulled it apart to transform it to two separate axes held comfortably in each hand. She swung both in a deadly dance of glinting metal that quickly sliced through the remaining werewolves. Prima turned around to face them with her alabaster face and sunny dress splattered with blood, her pupils narrowed, her lips curved in a smug smile, and her dripping axes hung by her sides. The soft glow of the moon only served to highlight the maniacal glint in her eyes.

Bucky thought she looked hauntingly beautiful.

She sauntered back to them as she clicked the axes back together and hooked it as usual over her shoulder. She wiped the blood from her free hand on her dress which served to only smear the carnage already on there.

"Grab the shovels from the greenhouse. This area is private property but we must burn and bury the bodies in case the townspeople happen upon them."

Sam and Bucky nodded before ducking back to retrieve the shovels. Natasha went back inside as well and returned shortly to hand a towel to Prima who was now cleaning up as best she can with the garden hose. They both made their way to the men who had now begun to dig near the dead werewolves. The cat had exited the house and followed closely behind its master sensing that it was now safe.

There was a long moment with no words exchanged as they all focused on the task at hand. It went by much faster with all four of them working together. The men were rolling the werewolves into the pit when Natasha decided to break the tension.

"Didn't take you for a cat person."

Prima snorted but smiled as she stroked the cat's head that had decided to perch on her shoulders. "The eyes not give it away?"

Sam dumped some gasoline in the hole and threw a lit lighter in with it. The fire caught immediately but Bucky thought to himself that the flames weren't as magnificent as those from Prima. Natasha shifted from one foot to another trying to decide how to start the conversation she needed to have. Her target this time had already rejected her initial request for help. She would have to reconsider her approach. Prima decided to make the choice for her.

"Would you like to discuss inside or would you like us to roast marshmallows over the fire first?"

Natasha frowned at the joke made in poor taste, but the Witcher seemed to be further amused by her reaction. She tilted her head toward the cabin signalling them all to go inside leaving behind them the raging bonfire.

The Avengers and the Witcher sat around the dining table with each of them clutching a fresh cup of coffee in their hands. It was their second cup already as they debriefed her on what had been happening. Sera had undone the Snap. The Hunters together with the Avengers had defeated a divine threat. Now Hydra had somehow been able to open a time portal and unleashed all the monsters from her time.

"Fuck," Prima growled and pinched the bridge of her nose as she felt the migraine creeping in. "I spent 400 fucking years by myself driving every single one of those things into extinction. Enough to take it down to a level that Hunters would be sufficient to handle them."

"Excuse me? 400 years?" Sam asked, his disbelieving expression matching that of Bucky's beside him.

"How bad is this?" Natasha asked ignoring the other two, her own frown prevalent on her lips. Prima sighed.

"There is a reason why at one point Witcher was a flourishing profession. Witchers were made to go against these beasts and there was a demand that needed to be serviced. I'm the only remaining Witcher. How bad do you think it is?"

"That's exactly why we need your help. You're the only one who knows how to deal with any of these things," Natasha began to plead her case but Prima had a look of immediate revulsion. At that moment, she realized what could potentially convince her.

"We're offering you a contract."

Natasha's words stilled Prima and caused her to raise a curious eyebrow up at her. Witchers traditionally took on contracts most often for eliminating a monster that was terrorizing a village. It was their primary means of making a living and ensured that they would be compensated after the task. Prima can't remember the last time she has been offered a contract. The familiarity was oddly comforting to her.

"Terms of payment?"

"However much you want. Stark will pay it."

The Witcher scoffed, the movement disturbing the cat on her lap. "I've been around for over 700 years, child. I have more money than I have use for."

"Hold on. What??" Sam said his eyes practically bugging out of their sockets.

"Weapons?"

"No. I am partial to my axe."

"A quinjet? Could come in handy since you move around so much," Natasha countered.

"No."

There was a devilish smirk on both the women's faces, enjoying to some extent this back and forth negotiation. Natasha racked her brain for what else she can use to convince Prima to take the contract. She was close to offering up Tony and throw in all of his suits just to get her onboard. Maybe include an Avenger or two in to spice it up.

"Private island? You'll never need to move again."

"No."

"A fuckton of vibranium?"

"Throw in his arm and we got a deal," Prima said cocking her head in the direction of a now very uncomfortable Winter Soldier.

"Why?" Natasha asked completely ignoring the outraged expressions on her teammates face in favor of her curiosity.

The Witcher shrugged. "My porch could use a new wind chime."

Natasha turned to Bucky with a look in her eye that seemed very much like she was willing him to consider it. He fumed and pointed a finger at her in warning.

"Don't you fucking dare, Nat."

Natasha rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air in defeat. "Fine. What do you want, Prima? Name your price."

"I have neither need nor want for anything. I must decline, Natasha. I'm sorry."

The modern style wall clock began to chime softly as it struck twelve midnight as if punctuating the finality of the Witcher's decision. The cat suddenly began to struggle out of her grasp with a discontent hiss. It leaped from her lap but what landed on the hardwood floors were not fuzzy paws but a set of bare feet that were unmistakably human.

Chairs clattered to the floor as the Avengers sprung from their seats and drew their weapons at the sight of this new man who looked to have morphed from being the house cat. Grey eyes and a wide beaming smile accompanied the floppy short brown hair of the newcomer.

He stretched his limbs and groaned at the cracking of his bones bringing him some relief, the V-neck shirt and tight jeans straining at the movements. The bell tied around his neck was the only real indication to the Avengers that this was indeed the cat and that they weren't hallucinating.

"Gods! I thought it would never strike midnight. Do you know how infuriating it is to not be able to comment? A meow can only convey so much."

"Who the fuck are you?" Sam asked raising his shield higher.

Prima had barely moved in her seat at the disturbance, only casually sipping her remaining coffee and waving dismissively at the transformed man.

"Avengers, meet Jaskier. Jaskier, the Avengers."

Jaskier made a low formal bow with all the flair that was standard for his personality. Once straightened, he clapped his hands together and looked excitedly around the room.

"Now that we're introduced, I am pleased to inform you all that we will happily accept this contract."

He slapped a hand across the Witcher's mouth just as she was about to protest. He flashed a cheeky grin at the still confused superheroes while his hand held firmly in place silencing a now sulky Prima.

"What's the plan?"