#im a grown ass dog with teeth.

[calamitys-child]

Hornyposting in tags skip if u dont wanna see

[petitkante]

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[troublewithvampires]

@bxtsence said: He had heard what happened; news travelled fast amongst all the gossiping and mindless sheep that seemed to pervade the mansion. There wasn’t anything that Rowan could say that might help. Tell him that everything would be fine? No, that wouldn’t be fitting. He wasn’t one to say such things. Ask if he was okay? The answer was already obvious. Perhaps, it was just their common hatred of the servant who shall not be named, or perhaps he just felt indebted to the man for at least helping him at one point, but Rowan offered the only thing he thought was appropriate. That was just sitting near his side, not saying a word.

Salvatore's shoulders were tense as he stood over the balcony, staring up at the sky. His head was still throbbing, and his neck was starting to ache from the strain of looking up for so long. But he couldn't look away. The stars had always been comforting to him, and now he could only hope that their distant light might be enough to provide comfort.

Despite his focus on the stars, he heard when Rowan approached. The kid seemed a bit hesitant, which made sense. They weren't close, after all, and Salvatore was a grown-ass man who should be able to take care of himself. But still, he came out onto the balcony without pause. And, after a moment, he sat nearby. Not saying a word. And Salvatore appreciated that--what was there to say, anyway? They both knew what happened.

Still, the silence was suffocating, and before long Salvatore, was compelled to fill it.

"I'm a goddamn idiot," Salvatore said, the words ringing hollowly in his ears. Now that he'd said it, it struck him how true the words really were, and he laughed bitterly as he allowed his eyes to fall closed. "Y'know, I never really thought I was worth givin' a shit about or keepin' around, but..."

But what? Had he somehow started to have hope, somewhere in his cold, dead heart? That Dio fucking Brando of all people might find something about Salvatore O'Malley worth keeping? That he wasn't just a stupid dog one wrong move away from being discarded? Saying this out loud made Salvatore all too aware of how pathetic he was being, and it was fucking embarrassing. He was a tool, one that people only kept around because he was occasionally useful, and he had to remember that.

Dio was a self-aggrandizing monster with an unmatched ego, and Salvatore hated him almost as much as he hated himself, but he was certainly right about that. As angry and hurt as Salvatore was, he knew in his heart that it was what he deserved. After all, Dio had made it very, very clear how he felt about bad dogs.

He was getting lost in his own thoughts. Salvatore cursed under his breath and shook his head, opening his eyes again to glance at Rowan.

"Sorry I couldn't actually break that jackass's teeth in for ya', kid," he said, smiling ruefully. Was he talking about Vanilla Ice or Dio? Even he wasn't sure. "If ya' ever need to get away from the fucker, though, you can come find me. Can't promise I'd be good company, but I won't snitch to anyone if you gotta bitch about 'im at least."

[c6h12o6pack]

I wasn't taken care of properly growing up. I don't hate either of my parents. I love them both but it's not the kind of love others feel for their parents. When I say I love them, I feel bad for them and the first thing to come into mind is that I hope they're okay and I cry thinking about how much they struggle or have struggled.

Growing up poor and ugly. I was weird, poor, ugly, and malnourished. I had been mistreated from a lot of people and that's a lot of what I look back on. I have bad dreams every. single. night. For months, For years.

I use to have crooked buck teeth. Extremely skinny. Cheap shoes, sometimes with holes. over sized winter coats that DID NOT fit me. ugly old oversized clothes. I had become a self harmer. I had started really dangerous behaviors. I'd either gotten bullied or I didn't fit in. I never fit in the way that I always wanted to.

I think to this day, I never grew out of this ugly feeling. I don't feel good enough but I work so hard. I am anxious all the time and so stressed about everything. Slightly paranoid. I'm am currently learning how to- I don't even know. I'm just learning. I'm a bit behind than other's and I think I might always be.

I think the best thing I can do is stay kind to people although I have also learned how to be mean. >:O One time I was at the skatepark with my friend along with someone we had recently just met. Meanwhile, a grown ass man comes up, doesn't say hello. Instead he yells out "is the girl taken!?" "I mean whats the girls name". I'm not a fucking dog. Nobody answered from surprise and I spoke for myself, telling him to go fuck himself and pith off. He got angry and left saying rude stuff. (I was high af, i get a bit too confident). I spoke up for myself but it can be really dangerous. What if im alone the next day and he's there again. Not having a phone. What would I do? (okay I would kick him in the balls, scream STRANGER DANGER, and run). I was brave to tell him to fuck off but it was also dumb and dangerous.

Everyone should try to be nice and respectful to everyone. Don't assume the worst in people but don't be dumb. Anyone can be dangerous. Support each other and be understanding. Go out of your way to help others. It feels amazing giving to others. I remind myself that I've gotten help from so many people, that paying it forward is a must.

Thank you to all the people that have been kind to me, provided me with something, and have helped me. I've been someone who needs a lot of help. I owe all of my successes to the good people around me. My ex boyfriend's mom. My supervisor. A boy, who helped me buy feminine products when I needed them. My third grade teacher. The mother of my next door neighbor I had 10 years ago.

[sin-sidejob]

hi hi is this ship game thingy still going ?? ignore this if it isnt lol but i <3 ur writing so im sending one in :P my name is blair, i use she/her prns, bisexual, im short, chubby, white hair, grey eyes, LOTS of facial piercings (eyebrows, bridge, septum, angelbites, snakebites, dahlias :3), and a ton of patchwork tattoos. my style is ??? uhmmm random shit i thrifted and or crocheted, i crochet a lot of clothes my typical outfit is like. crochet top, random thrifted pants. my hobbies r obv crochet, art of various forms, rollerskating, and for some reason collecting toys as a grown ass women. my personality is a bit two-faced, i come across as rather extroverted and silly online but in real life im extremely shy and suffer from selective mutism. it's kind of like you only unlock my real personality by becoming friends with me. my friends consider me funny, kind, passionate, and really really helpful. i love love love animals and my dream future is becoming a crazy cat lady, and dog lady, and rat lady, and generally having a home that could be considered an animal sanctuary. i like all sorts of people, because i cant ever really speak in public i really like to observe so i know a lot more about the people around me then they think i know. characters im very similar to would be kobeni from chainsaw man, bee from bee and puppycat, todd anderson from dead poets society, willow from the owl house, and fluttershy from my little pony c: thank youu veryyy much in advance for the matchup <33

Hi Blair!!

I ship you with Reagan Ridley

I can absolutely see the two of you getting along, her appreciating how you still have a love for things beyond the parameters of age like toys. She can’t say much with her adoration for the Space Jam dress, but finding a solidarity in how you have that same affection for things and encouraging her to do the same with stuff from her own childhood.

As someone who’s more blunt and direct but does have a lot of compassion herself, I think Reagan would enjoy your personality and demeanor, finding solace in how you both have softer halves and have to work at the other to unlock them. She may not understand the mutism immediately but would def respect it, probably researching it too to better understand it and get to know about the multiple facets that make up you.

Reagan would love placing kisses, like little kisses, over your piercings, trailing down from your brow piercing and dotting kisses over each of them, maybe even tugging with her teeth at the ones near your lips, taking her time to kiss over your snake and angel bites, paying special attention to the dahlias as well.

Note, if you ever crocheted her a top or something she’d wear it all the time at home, probably having you make extras of the same one in case she pulls a loop accidentally or stains it — Reagan would hate to ruin all the work you put into it.

She’d also not like if you ever made things for the gang, you’re hers damnit.

I’m not sure if Reagan would vibe immediately with the animal sanctuary but I do know she’d love some of the more reclusive animals and the reptiles. It’s probably a 50/50 with cats after the one she held of Dr. Skullfinger’s. If you ever listened to her talk about her childhood and get her a snake or a turtle, or some other reptile, she’d be so excited. Reagan def struggles with displaying her gratitude accurately but would try to let you know how much it meant to her.

I can see you teaching her how to roller skate and it going well or terribly, and honestly it would take a lot of encouragement to keep her going after falling or tripping in her skates — but then again, she’s got you to help catch her, and isn’t that what it’s all about?

[missmeinyourbones]

what icks do you think the aot boys are guilty of having lol

aot boys x icks! (part 2) (jjk version)

now THIS is content i can get behind

eren:

is the type of guy to think that just letting the water hit him in the shower is washing his body... like you're showering together and ur scrubbing ur legs w body wash or something and he's like wait... you wash your legs? like you don't just let the water and soap hit them? WHAT

tries to start a podcast and thinks hes making really profound points but its the most basic and bare minimum conclusions like "working out actually improves your mental health"

his hair gets greasy really easily but he doesnt like to wash it every day bc it dries it out. you recommend dry shampoo and he REFUSES because it “makes his hair look gray” and ur like no not if you apply it like this and rub it in!!!! he doesnt listen

accidentally airs ur dirty laundry and secrets to all of ur friends LMFAO he really doesnt mean to though but youll all be having dinner or something and someone will order a specific food and he’ll be like “wait baby isnt that the food that gives you really bad gas?” goodbye

the classic "THIS IS FOR YOU <3" and misses

armin:

uses the 🥺 emoji way too much for a grown ass man. like its cute sometimes but its definitely his most used emoji. also says "sowwy" when ur mad at him :/

loves when you scratch his back/head but only does urs for like 2 mins LMFAO. ur taking turns in bed and when its his turn to scratch he does it for like 30 seconds and then is like my turn :) or im tired goodnight :) also gets mad when you stop unexpectedly. gives you side eye

drools in his sleep LMFAO. sleeps with his mouth open and its not that big of a deal unless he’s sleeping on you and you wake up with a fucking wet patch on your chest as if a baby was just napping on you

prefers you without make up and doesnt really understand that you wear it for personal or creative reasons, like he automatically assumes its because you’re insecure or covering something up. like youre going out and having fun getting ready and looking pretty and hes like “why do you wear makeup when you are so beautiful naturally? :)” 

buys millennial merch like “dont talk to me before my coffee” or those signs that say “dogs welcome! people tolerated” also calls dogs “floofers” and “doggos”

jean:

genuinely says sheesh. like not as a joke. he'll be like sheesh baby you look so good today and you'll have to hide ur embarrassment lol

is the type to NEVER let you get away with stuttering or fumbling ur words. you know that tiktok thats like "you ever stutter so hard you just have to stfu" thats you around jean LMFAO. you mispronounce one word and hes never letting you forget it

NEVER FINISHES A WATER BOTTLE. he will leave half filled bottles all over the place and then have the audacity to open a new one and drink it in front of you???

sleeps like a LOG. will not move. when he snores and you try to kick him a little bit to be like hey turn over ur snoring, he is not waking up. he gets up the next morning whistling a little tune looking like he just had the best sleep of his life and you crawl out of bed like a gremlin who almost fell off the bed and listened to his snores for 10 hours

such a music snob. he will be like “baby i recently discovered this really good song you probably havent heard of it its super underground” and its tame impala LOL

connie:

hes a mouth breather. he also chews so fucking loud. you guys are sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast & minding ur own business, and he is going to TOWN on his food. close ur mouth. imbecile

kinda the same topic but definitely bites his ice cream / popsicles. you are starting to think he doesnt have feeling in his front teeth anymore. he crunches the fuck out of ice as a "snack"

laughs along with a joke that you know he doesnt understand PLEASE it could be an inside joke w you and your girlfriends and hes trying to butt into the conversation like "HAHAHA"

his phone is always greasy and has crumbs in the cracks of the case and shit. ur like oh babe can you take a pic of me real quick??? and its so blurry because of the shit on his lens

leaves the toilet seat up every. single. time. especially not fun when you pee in the middle of the night and fall in with sleepy tired eyes 

levi:

sleeps with socks on. LET UR DOGS BREATHE LEVI. he thinks sleeping barefoot is nasty so he puts on a new pair of socks every time he gets into bed

has to correct you, even on tiny minute details. youre telling a story and youre like "so we waited in line for like 30 minutes" and hes like "it was actually 45." or "we went out to eat last monday" "it was tuesday but ok" like ENOUGH. let me have something

worst. backseat. driver. ever. you could break a little too quickly ONE time and hes so dramatic about it. “that wasnt a complete stop” “you’re supposed to be in the next lane” “that car was in your blindspot and you didnt even look” 

answers the phone with “what” every single time. not a hello??? how are you??? how was your day??? it sounds like a chore but in reality he just doesnt like technology and thinks phone calls/texts should be as concise and quick as possible

has literally no decor in his house/apartment like it actually looks uninhabited. has like one couch and a bed. you offer to help him pick some things out and hes like “im always at work anyways why would i need a table”

reiner:

likes drake LMFAO not even old drake (when he was good) but like new "say that you a lesbian girl me too" drake

repeats a joke that didn't land because he thinks you didn't hear it. but you did. it just wasn't funny

when you guys first started talking he was definitely the guy to be like "ur so beautiful, whats a girl like you doing with a little ugly boy like me???" when you guys are in a relationship youre able to see that its just his insecurities manifesting but. it was cringey at first

i just know this man has dirty fingernails. like they are short and well kept but there is always DIRT AND GRIME under them. you make him wash his hands before he touches you

cant be quiet for the life of him. he has loud ass footsteps. like ur sleeping and granted he is trying so hard to be quiet but he literally cannot. slams his drawers, shuts the door so loud, will play a video on his phone full blast. and then when you stir from your sleep and glare at him hes like “good morning :D”

porco:

genuinely says "without me? :(" when you say you are about to shower LMFAOOOO its kinda funny when you guys are in an established relationship bc u can just smack him but he is definitely guilty of saying it seriously when you two were in the talking stage

accidentally mansplains things to you. not in a demeaning or belittling way but like youll make a joke about "why cant we just print more money" and this business major bitch is like "baby...are you serious...because inflation will-" like OKAYYYY it was a joke

his hair is so crunchy from all of the hair product/gel he uses on it. sometimes when hes fresh out of the shower youll compliment his natural hair as an attempt to get him to lay off the gel. his hair is so hard you could drop a brick on his head and it would deflect 

backwashes in all of your shared drinks

manspreads, especially in public. youll be sitting in a crowded place and he is openly sprawled out extremely comfortable while a woman with a baby is giving him a dirty look

i had a lot of fun coming up with these! i hope this was what you were asking for :3 thanks for requesting!

[1rakus]

invasive mammals of florida: could i defeat them

this list is taken from wikipedia. the fight is 1v1, bare handed, bare assed, bare arena with no guile and full intent to kill. my predictions are as follows

BROWN & BLACK RAT

a rat is rat sized, and i am human sized. i think a rat has a lot of wile and more bravery than the average human man, but despite my many shortcomings the size difference is too much to ignore.

CHITAL

a male chital (a spotted deer endemic to india) gets three feet tall at the shoulder and can weigh up to 165 lb. its antlers are three feet long. rearing up on its hind legs, a chital would both outweigh and outmeasure me. while i do have the advantage of being a horrible omnivorous ape with grasping hands and a beserker's soul, i do think the chital would kill me. a comforting thought is that i'm sure it would be very, very close, and the chital would die soon after.

COYPU / NUTRIA

this herbivorous rodent is like a little beaver rat. frankly i hate having to fight it, because not only does it look very friendly, but something in my hindbrain tells me it can be truly evil. but i am homo sapiens, and evil knits my sinews to my bones. this thing gets two feet long and tops out at like 30lb. that's like a four year old human. could i kill a four year old? the grim but damning question is this: what grown man couldn't?

HOUSE MOUSE

why am i fighting so many rodents? rodents have never done anything bad to me. i like rodents, generally. a pointy nose and big ears are just so appealing, no? anyway. i could beat the shit out of this mouse and if push comes to shove, i will.

WILD BOAR

i'm going to die

FERAL DOMESTIC CAT

god forgive me for even saying this but i could easily defeat a cat in one on one unarmed combat. i would blow this whiskery little shit out of the water. yeah im gonna bleed, yeah its gonna be horrible for me, yeah i'll carry this burden for the rest of my days. okay whatever. i would live another day

RED FOX

so right off the bat, i want to say yeah, no, thats just a little dog, i could take that. but the mythological hype surrounding the fox gives me pause. people are scared of this thing. and why? it's fluffy, it has eyeliner, it yells a lot. many humans have these traits. but the fox has a certain vulpine je ne sais quoi that makes me wonder if i could actually successfully fight this thing. lars von trier chaos reigns trickster spirit etc etc. i will tentatively say yes, i could beat it, just because i'm a full grown man and that's a little ginger doggie, but i don't feel confident about it.

RHESUS MACAQUE

i'm gonna beef it jesus christ look at its teeth. do you remember the scary fast zombies in i am legend with will smith? this is like that, except it doesnt care about the sunlight at all. incidentally, an indie perfume house i like recently discontinued their line of cologne called macaque, inspired by the scents of japanese mountains where so many macaques make their home, which is a real shame because i wanted to order a sample. anyway! a macaque would kill me in hand to hand combat.

NINE-BANDED ARMADILLO

this thing reminds me of a wise grandfather i never knew. its perennial squint, its sweet, sparse hairs, the way its tough hide resembles my favorite cast-iron teapot... this is my first time seeing this animal and i love it to bits. unfortunately, i have complete confidence that i could curbstomp this thing. i could crack it open like a shrimp and make it cry uncle. i just looked it up and apparently they attack by kicking, and BOY, if i kick this thing it will be with the righteous mania of someone who hasn't gotten to play soccer in a long, long time. i will defeat it.

SAMBAR DEER

why is that thing so buff? 😰 bro call me a defeatist but i dont even want to think about fighting a sambar deer. definitely not. i'm gonna lose this one so fucking bad like i'm gonna need a closed casket funeral. it's over for me. look how YOKED this thing is?? and how SMALL its hooves are? how much weight and power is concentrated into a single one of those sharp little hooves? this is absolutely not someone i'd want to run into at the grocery store

[aforrestofstuff]

Been a hot minute since I did one of these. A good friend of mine gave me a suggestion on my discord:

So yeah this required a lot of research because I only eat like 3 things lol. Obligatory crack warning.

Tornado of Terror: Ice cream because A: it’s good practice for her esper powers to control a semi-liquidous substance and B: her constant rage has actually raised her default body temperature an additional ten degrees, so eating ice cream is a good way to cool off. 

Silverfang: Oatmeal raisin cookies because he’s an old fuck. He likes chewy things because his teeth are held together by sheer force of will but also indulges in that extra crunch of the oatmeal to remind everyone in the old folk’s home just who the fuck they’re messing with. 

Atomic Samurai: Any dessert-flavored cocktail that is made up of around 90% alcohol and 5% violence. 

Child Emperor: Kid eats sweets for breakfast lunch and dinner, dessert to him would probably be a head of broccoli drizzled with a light yet flavorful dressing. Either that or milkshakes, because I get the feeling he doesn’t get to enjoy them too often... and of course they remind him of the good times with Zombieman. 

Metal Knight: Only eats pre-packaged nutrient bricks and has not tasted anything sweet nor enjoyed a food morsel in at least 17 years. 

King: I headcanon King as a huge momma’s boy who doesn’t get to eat a lot of homemade food because he fucking sucks at cooking and makes enough money to eat out all the time anyway, so his favorite dessert would probably be every and any home-cooked treat his mom makes for him. 

Zombieman: I’ll be honest, I thought this dude hated sweet things but after reading that manga extra of him drinking sugar with a side of coffee, my opinion has switched. His favorite dessert would probably be something extremely decadent and sweet, like one of those 1000-calorie Dairy Queen sundae-shakes jam packed with chocolate and cookie crumbs. Or an entire fucking lava cake because this dude’s metabolism is faster than the speed of light and he’d probably stomach something like that just to see if he can, since apparently he’s all about breaking his own limiters. A friend of mine once ate three-dozen pot brownies in one sitting while speedrunning Mario 64 and I think Zombieman would be able to do that without the aid of the munchies. I know Zman internally insulted Pig God one time for well, eating like a pig but give the dude some alone time and an all you can eat buffet of sweets and he’d find himself in the same situation. 

Drive Knight: Does not have a favorite food in general due to this motherfucker not installing tastebuds on account of them not being necessary to commit all degrees of murder. 

Pig God: Oh my god. More like what isn’t this dude’s favorite dessert? Pig God has lost the ability to dislike anything he puts in his mouth because eating has pretty much become his main source of income, so it’s safe to say that if he can swallow it, it’s his favorite food. That includes desserts, but I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t partial to pudding. Just pudding. Bread pudding, chocolate pudding, strawberry pudding. Pudding. 

Superalloy Darkshine: I’ve said this before but my boy Darkshine only eats the most obnoxiously healthy foods out there, sometimes over health-ifying those foods himself in his kitchen/protein meth lab. His favorite dessert would probably be one of those ancient bread seed logs and only because he’s allowed to put .2 ounces of stevia in it.  Either that or literally just any fruit ever.

Watchdog Man: Those pumpkin-flavored dog treats because my man gets paid 2 cents an hour at the Hero Association and the poor mf in charge of payroll has forgotten he exists so he’s grown accustomed to eating only the dog-related foods people leave to him as offerings on his weird pedestal thing in City Q. 

Flashy Flash: Doesn’t really have an affinity for sweet things on account of how fucking awful life in the Ninja Village was. He never got the opportunity to develop a sweet tooth because of all the basic ass food he’d be eating. Almost all desserts listed here would give him a heart attack, like making a Victorian era child drink McDonald’s sprite. It will not sit right with his spirit. His favorite dessert would he any vaguely sweet fruit with wine, or a coffee that is 90% creamer.

Genos: Something in my spirit is telling me he’d enjoy anything strawberry-related, although Saitama doesn’t like them. This leads to them falling out while a shortcake bakes in the background. Im kidding, obviously. But seeing as how ONE has a very “go stupid aaaaaaaa” attitude towards writing, it would be a very tame end to their relationship (assuming there’s gonna be an end) compared to all the other shitdick stuff happening in this series. Zombieman’s ass has been out for like 8 chapters, you can’t tell me shit.

Metal Bat: Kiddo snorts protein powder for breakfast, probably. He’s ripped as hell and his diet reflects that sorta, with a hint of seventeen year-old craziness thrown in there. Bitch eats like a violent stoner sometimes because he knows his metabolism can handle it and he won’t die from food poisoning nor food coma. However, his favorite dessert would be creme brûlée because it’s the only food you’re required to beat the shit out of before eating, and we all know he loves bonking stuff.

Tanktop Master: Over health-ifys shit like Darkshine, just to a lesser degree. However I also HC him as a huge momma’s boy, and if said mother is supportive in his endeavors to become the world’s swolest man, she’d definitely make him something both sweet and healthy. However, I’d doubt he care about slipping up on his diet every once and a while. He’d probably enjoy a soft serve here and there.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: his palate is very limited on account of being in literal prison. However, he doesn’t really hate it there for some reason, and I’ve even stated in a previous hc that he sometimes gets specialized meals in the cafeteria due to his status as a hero. His favorite dessert would probably be whatever chocolate-flavored sweet brick they can shit out. Like, motherfuckers get really creative with their ingredients while locked up and there’s a bomb ass recipe for chocolate cake floating around that I’ve tried and can confirm it’s 10/10 not bad. I’m getting off-topic. His favorite dessert is whatever asshole he’ll be eating out of that night.

Saitama: Even though he’s poorer than.... fuck, I don’t know. He’s broke but he still indulges in the prestige shit here and there. He’s got a massive sweet tooth even though he’s ripped as hell, hence why he eats so much fruit because it’s the only sweet thing he can afford to ingest without losing his gains. His favorite dessert would be anything banana-related, but nothing as decadent as say, dark chocolate. Probably banana foster waffles. I don’t know why that popped into my head, I just know Saitama would like them.

Garou: motherfucker could shit on a rock with sprinkles on it and call it dessert. His favorite, though? Sweet, sweet victory. And candy bars.

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 18

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

Warnings and summary - Masterlist

The directions were simple

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

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

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

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

You turn and grin holding them up.

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

“Me first?” You offer going to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh ha ha. You’re so funny,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Tell me?”

“Why so you could make it a thing?”

“Well yeah?”

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

“And put back together.” You remind him.

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it Barnes.

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

The bedroom door opens and you part.

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

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

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

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

Bucky gently moves you aside and stands.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

You stand beside Bucky watching him strip.

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

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

“Rapunzel.”

“Streusel”

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

“Anything from the sound of music.”

“Penny’s from heaven.”

“Colors James?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Only a little.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes Baron.”

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You won’t

“Look at me.”

You open your eyes but you hate him right now.

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

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

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

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

He smiles stroking your face.

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

“Yes Baron.”

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

Both their eyes are on you.

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

Holy shit…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So it’s like that tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” You beg.

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

“Please Baron.”

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

“Sometimes,” You confess still breathless.

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

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

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

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

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

Your orgasm is nearly instant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer me.”

“Yes Baron.” He says, barely audible.

“Are you afraid of this? Of me?”

“No…”

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

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

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

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

You crawl up to the pillows and turn over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t stop.” Helmut mumbles again.

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

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

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

“Not yet.”

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

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

“Mmhm” He agrees.

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

That, must have been two fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky nods against you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes” Bucky answers.”

“And would you like to come?”

“Yes. Please!” He pleads.

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

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

“Beg.” He demands

“Please.” Bucky says in your arms.

“Louder.”

“Please may I come.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky” You whisper.

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

But maybe you are…

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

You must have fallen asleep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh from the pillows “Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shut your eyes. Anything to break the spell.

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

He pulls you up to sitting keeping you close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[pedros-mustache-main]

crayons & caresses

summary: you know it’s wrong, that pining after your student’s father is wildly inappropriate, but gosh if john deacon isn’t the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

word count: 12k+

warnings: pining to the extreme!, slight angst, discussions of parental death, health scare + medical response, alcohol, language, innuendo, suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: mechanic/singledad!john is everything i didn’t know i needed in my life. also: WOW this took me a long ass time because i find john the hardest to write, but i love him so. much. so hopefully it’s worth the wait.

(photo: originally from @davidgayhan​ i think?? ugh look at him. i drool. yes i did set this during the brief short-perm-montreal moment. sue me)

september, 1981.

you love all of your students equally. each one is like a fingerprint on your heart: unique in their own way, made up of patterns and histories you will never be able to appreciate in full before they are whisked away to their next year. it is safe to say you adore the collection of twenty-four seven year olds who walk into your classroom each morning. their bright faces, some still chubby with baby fat, fill the lonely parts of your soul, and you leave your flat each morning with a sense of purpose and duty. you are their teacher, their guide through some of the most crucial parts of learning. it is an honor and a privilege to teach them—each and every one. but there is one student who sticks out among the rest. 

his name is beau deacon.

beau is remarkably quiet. he’s small for his age, both in height and in weight. at times, he appears frail, what with the way he sits by himself in the corner during reading hour, flipping through a picture book with glazed over eyes, never really concentrating on what’s before him. he walks slowly during recess, preferring to stay by himself and drag a stick along the blacktop than play a game of kickball with the other boys. he whispers when he speaks and avoids meeting the eyes of those who do try and pry a few words from him.

you try to engage him—really, you do—but nothing seems to stick. not the participation reward system you build just for him, but use for the entire class. not moving his desk closer to yours. not even coercing your best friend ami to bring in her therapy dogs one afternoon early in the year. despite your best efforts, beau remains decidedly uninterested and removed.

it bothers and worries you to the point of questioning your colleague on the matter. martha is sixty, but spry as ever. she’s been your confidant this last year. you’re new to teaching, green as ever, but she has welcomed you with open arms and a plethora of advice. you feel comfortable sidling up next to her in the car-line one friday afternoon. it’s hot outside, summer not yet allowing autumn to take root, so you hold a hand over your eyes to shade yourself from the sun.

“can i ask you something?” you say, keeping your eyes trained on the children who filter out of the school and into their parent’s waiting vehicles. 

“as long as it’s not about sex,” martha mutters. “haven’t had a good romp in so long i don’t even know if it still works the same way.”

you swallow a laugh as a trio of students pass you by. their mother waves over her shoulder, shouting her thanks, before shoving the children in the backseat of a tan mini-van. you watch the van pull away, another car rolling forward to take its place, before asking your question.

“beau deacon,” you start, hoping that, if you simply say his name, martha will fill in the gaps herself.

blessedly, martha twists and nods with a knowing smile. “i know that tyke well. had him last year.”

you release a huff of air in relief. “oh thank goodness. i’m almost beside myself. i don’t know what to do with him.” you frown as you attempt to speak as diplomatically about your student as possible. “he’s awful quiet. he doesn’t play with any of the children and barely looks at me when i speak to him. how’d you manage?”

to your dismay, the older woman just shrugs. “i didn’t really. his mum died all sudden like about halfway through the year, and he clammed up. no matter what i did, what tricks i tried to pull, he stayed completely unmovable.”

“oh.” your shoulders drop in defeat. “i didn’t know.” truthfully, your heart tugs for the child. to lose one’s mother at such a tender age? you can’t imagine the world of hurt he lives in. it’s no wonder he sticks to himself.

“you didn’t speak with his father?”

“no. was i have supposed to?”

“no, not necessarily. mr. deacon was helpful on a few occasions last year. we were sort of a united front, i’d say, when things were particularly bad in the beginning. perhaps give him a call. at least to let him know you’re in his corner.” she smiles and squeezes your bicep. “and you can always come to me, love. i may not have all the answers but i do have some.”

“thank you, martha. i think giving mr. deacon a call might be smart—” you turn at the tell-tale sound of feet dragging against the ground. in the few weeks since classes have started, you’ve grown to know the sound of beau deacon’s footsteps better than your own. he’s always on your mind, the sullen little boy with glasses, so it’s hard not to pounce on him with love when you turn around to see him in the school doorway. “oh! beau! we were just talking about you.” 

beau stops walking, and his grip tightens on the straps of his backpack. he doesn’t look up at you, doesn’t say anything. he simply stands there, as if he’s listening but doesn’t know how to respond, so you soldier forward.

“do you have any big plans for the weekend, beau?” you ask.

he shakes his head.

“none with your father?”

another shake of the head.

“well, perhaps you’ll do something fun and you can tell us about it on monday, yeah?”

to your surprise, he nods, which is more than he does most days. you can’t help the smile that claims your lips and the way your arm waves a little too hard to his retreating form. he walks to a faded old corvette and opens the passenger door with ease. you can hear a muffled voice—his father’s no doubt—and see the man stretch his arm out to take beau’s backpack. 

but then the car door is shut, and the chevy pulls out of the parking lot with too much speed to be safe when a child is in the front.

you glance at martha. she rolls her eyes and mouths men. you can’t help but agree.

a week passes before you finally find the time to phone beau’s father. you find his name—john richard deacon—and a telephone number in beau’s emergency contact form, shoved amongst a stack of other hastily filled-out parent paperwork. there’s no secondary number listed—not even a distant relative or family friend—so if the call doesn’t work, you aren’t sure what your next move will be. even so, after all the children have left and the other teachers are beginning to close their classrooms for the day, you slouch at your desk and punch the numbers into the phone. it rings three times before someone picks up.

“taylor auto-repair. this is rog.”

the voice on the other end is high and scratchy. you’re taken aback, both by the man on the phone and the blaring rock n roll music in the background. you aren’t an expert, but it sounds like zeppelin. not what you’d expected.

“hello?”

you shake yourself free of surprise, and the wheels beneath your chair scrape against the linoleum floor as you sit forward. “oh, sorry. i thought i was calling the deacon residence?”

“deacon? like john deacon?”

“yes, i’m beau’s schoolteacher. i thought—well, this was the number on the contact form.”

there’s a sigh, and the phone brushes against something rough before rog says anything more. “hold on.” when he speaks next, his voice is distant yet poorly muffled. “deaky! there’s some bird on the phone for you! what have i told ya about putting the shop’s number down instead of the house’s? fuckin’ hell, mate.”

you frown, pressing your fingers to your lips as you wait for... deaky... to take the phone from his co-worker. when a new voice does appear on the line, you again find yourself surprised.

“hello? this is john deacon.” john’s voice is almost lilting, like a song. it’s soft, comforting—though how you determine this from four simple words is beyond your understanding.

“mr. deacon, hi! my name is [y/n] [y/l/n]. i’m beau’s teacher. i thought we might have an over-due chat, if you have the time?”

“oh, hello.” there’s a pause on the other end, as if he’s considering whether or not he’ll entertain your out-of-the-blue phone call. “has beau done something wrong?”

you laugh despite the worried edge to his tone. “no, absolutely not! beau is a delight. he’s practically a model student. however, i do have a few concerns... do you have a moment?”

“yes, i can have. just give me a second.” the line goes muffled again, the only sound a fading rolling stone’s song before all goes quiet. you hear a door shut and the squeak of a chair before john speaks again. “i suppose this is about beau’s shyness?”

you choose your next words carefully, uncertain if john simply cannot accept his son’s retreat into himself or if he does not see it. you’d rather not jump to conclusions and alienate him on your first phone call, but you must admit your unease at hearing the word shyness. beau is far more than shy. despite the frown puckering your brow, you hold your concerns close to your chest for the moment.

“shyness is a word one could use, yes.”

“he’s been that way since his mum died last year.”

rolling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “i heard. i’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

john makes a noise somewhere between a huff and a grunt and does not acknowledge your paltry offer of condolence. “if you’re calling to ask how you can fix ‘im, i don’t have any answers for you.”

“i don’t want to fix him, mr. deacon,” you say. “i simply want to help.”

“i’m sure you’ve spoken with mrs. cooper then.” he sighs, and the sound seems to rattle the receiver pressed against your ear. “look, i appreciate what you both are trying to do for beau. but he’s young, and the pain of losing his mum— i just don’t want him to rush into moving on.”

“oh, mr. deacon, that’s not my intention at all!” you wince at the high-pitch of your voice and clear your throat. good lord, this was not going as you’d planned. “i just want him to feel comfortable in the classroom, that’s all.”

“that’s kind of you, but i think it might be easier if you just let beau work it out for himself.”

you fall silent and glance down at the hem of your blouse. there’s a blue thread dangling from the article of clothing, and you pull on it, watching the thread unravel until it falls free from the shirt itself. 

in all honesty, you’re puzzled by john’s hesitance to so much as entertain your concern. anyone—student, teacher, classroom parent—who comes across beau knows he’s more than shy. it’s written in his face, in the way he holds himself, in the way he shuffles aimlessly to and fro. god, he breaks your heart. you want to wrap him in a blanket and protect him from the cruel world.

but you’re not his mother. you’re merely his teacher, and you must respect john’s wishes despite how wrong you think they are. perhaps, in time, he will come around, see the need for a little concerted effort in helping beau work through his obvious grief-stricken state.

“is there anything more i can do for you, ms. [y/l/n]?”

clearing your throat again, you sit straighter in your chair and fiddle with a pen on your desk. you click the depressor up and down, up and down. “no, there’s not. i’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

“you didn’t,” john says—and his voice has that indescribable soft quality you noted the moment he first spoke. “really, it does mean something to me that you even thought to call.”

“i care for my students a great deal.” you aren’t sure what brings the words to your lips, but the second they fall past your tongue, a flush crawls up the back of your neck. you’re sure you sound like a petulant child, whining at the mere inconvenience of a rejected idea.

“i can tell.” his tone is anything but salty. in fact, the truth dripping from each word leaves you decidedly flustered. you click the pen faster, your leg bouncing beneath the desk.

“yes—well—i’ll leave you to it.” though you add, “if ever there’s something i can do for beau, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“i’ll be sure to.”

after a rushed goodbye, you drop the phone to its base. the hard-plastic clatters, the coiled wire dropping in a pile on the desk. you press your fingers to your eyelids and groan. both deacon boys, it seems, have the power to infuriate and melt you at the precisely the same moment.

this, you think, does not bode well for the rest of the year.

if you’re being honest, you have to admit that you think of john deacon often as the school year falls into a comfortable rhythm. no matter how hard you try to forget the phone call, forget the way his voice lulled you into a strange sense of serenity, he’s like a specter in the back of your mind: always there and definitely uninvited.

still...

when the children work silently at their desks, you sit behind yours and struggle to keep your mind from wandering to either of the deacon boys. when you greet beau as he walks through the door each morning, you resist the urge to drop a question about his father’s well-being. when the faded red corvette pulls to the curb each afternoon, you bite your tongue and fist your hands at your sides to keep from introducing yourself properly through the open window. 

it’s embarrassing, really, how much the phone call with john deacon has affected you. it’s embarrassing how... interested you are in his life. you’re a schoolgirl with a crush—a crush on a man you’ve never even seen! if you were to admit your undue fascination with the deacon household to your best friend ami she would laugh in your face and remind you how desperately you need to get out more. you keep your wonderings and your daydreams to yourself to save her the trouble of telling you what you already know.

come mid-november, when the students are well-adjusted to their daily routine and you’ve learned how to juggle so many personalities at once, you finally pause to take a breath. the breath comes at the end of a school-day. it’s drizzling outside—not raining, but not dry either. the sky is a wash of gray and a deep purple. there’s a storm coming, a bad one too from the looks of it. humming to yourself and contemplating whether or not you should stop by the grocery on your way home, you tug on your jacket and step outside the school into the chilled autumn air. 

you’re about to cross the parking lot to your car when you hear a harsh sniffle come from your left. you pause, keys in hand, and twist to see a huddled form on the curb. it’s clearly a student and a young one at that. knees drawn to their chest, backpack large over their back, fingers interlaced on their knees, they are the picture of a frightened schoolchild. the hood of their blue raincoat obscures any defining features, so you hustle to their side and kneel down, but not before glancing at your watch.

nearly four. someone’s been forgotten.

“hey?” you tilt your head to try and catch a glimpse of the face beneath the shade of the jacket hood. “did mum not come through the car line?”

you barely stifle your gasp when the slick raincoat crinkles as the student turns to meet your gaze. 

it’s beau deacon.

his eyes are puffy, tears still clinging to his blotchy cheeks. beneath the wide frames of his glasses, fear swims across his gaze. he draws in his lower lip and rubs his hand under his nose. his eyes flicker to the ground, his toes tilting inward.

you press a hand to his shoulder. he feels so small beneath your palm, like a fragile piece of clay, molded by tragedy and loss in such a short span of time. “where’s your father, beau?”

he shrugs. “dunno.”

“i guess he’s running late.” you look at your watch. very late. “should we give him a call?”

beau nods, and you stretch to your full height, offering your hand to help him from the curb. beau does not take it as he stands. he pushes his glasses up his nose and follows you inside the school office where he hesitates in the doorway as you borrow the receptionist’s phone to call the auto-shop.

no one answers.

lowering the phone to its base, you look over your shoulder. through the venetian blinds you can see the sky darkening as you hem-and-haw. in the distance there’s a flash of lightening, and fat raindrops dot the tan sidewalk.

you could leave beau with the receptionist. it’s not uncommon for parents to run late or completely forget about their child. normally, betty calls the child’s guardian and gives the waiting student a granola bar and coloring page or picture book to flip through as they wait for the mortified adult to speed to school. there’s nothing obligating you to stay. 

just as there’s nothing obligating you to offer to drive beau home.

you look at betty and calculate the words of your offer. “would it be wrong of me to drive beau home? he lives on my way ‘s all.” boldfaced lie—at least, you think—but what betty doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

betty doesn’t stop clacking on her electronic typewriter. “i don’t think so.” she peers over her glasses at the clock hanging over the door, still typing. “i’ve got a dentist appointment in half an hour, so i don’t have time to wait around today. you’d be doing me a favor, love.”

“alright, it’s settled then.” you slip the thin strap of your purse over your shoulder and turn to beau with a toothy grin. “i’ll drive you home. maybe your father just isn’t feeling well today and overslept?”

beau frowns, and inwardly, you cringe, your smile faltering. beau’s mother died of an illness, so it likely disconcerts him to think of his father in a similar state. in a piss poor attempt at an apology, you grab a piece of chocolate from the bowl near betty’s desk and slip it in beau’s hand as you make your way to the parking lot. the faintest flicker of a grin crosses his face as he methodically unwraps the candy. you take that as a sign of forgiveness.

once beau is snug in the backseat of your station wagon, you pull into traffic with a bubble of giddiness in your stomach. what you’re doing is ridiculous. though you feel horrid beau was left behind, there’s a sick park of you that is glad for it. it’s unlikely you’ll ever meet john deacon unless fate throws you together. he did not attend back to school night, and as a single father, you doubt he has time for any of the other parent-student events on schedule for the rest of the year. in all honesty, you’re taking this opportunity to put a face to the man behind the phone call that’s plagued you with daydreams since it occurred.

if you can just see his face, just learn what he looks like, perhaps the fascination with fade. unless, of course, he turns out to be as attractive as your mind has made him out to be and then you’ll be in even hotter water than you are now.

adjusting yourself in your seat, you glance in the rearview mirror. beau has his head pressed against the foggy glass of the window, his eyes scanning back and forth as he takes in the surrounding scenery. rain droplets create dark shadows over his face, and you wonder if that’s what he feels like on the inside: foggy and rainy and shadowy. you shake the thought free; you read too many melodramatic novels.

“so, beau, what’s your address?” you ask, your tone obnoxiously chipper. he tells you, and you shrug as you tighten your grip on the steering wheel. “gotta give me more than that, hun. do you remember how to get home? do you think you could tell me?”

beau nods and scoots away from the window, leaning nearer the space between the driver and passenger seats. there a gleam in his eye. you catch sight of it as you turn right at his instruction and see him hovering near your shoulder. it seems that with each turn you make his voice inches a decibel louder until you can hear every word with a clarity previously unknown. he’s confident when he’s instructing you, when he knows what he’s supposed to do.

he’s confident when he’s helping.

you tuck the bit of knowledge away for later as you pull into the cracked driveway of a red-brick bungalow. the house is small and unadorned, the homes on opposite sides just as plain and simple. a single spruce tree, like something out of a holiday catalog, is the only foliage in the yard. gauzy curtains are drawn to block the sunlight coming through the two bay windows framing the white front door.

you turn the car off as beau slides across the bench to open the car door. grabbing your handbag, you all but tumble after him, hastening up the sidewalk.

“wait a minute! beau!” you punctuate your call with a breathy laugh and smooth the sides of your hair back as you approach the front door. the bubble of giddiness from moments before has turned to a bubble of nerves, and once again, you realize this moment is entirely ridiculous. still, you adjust your blouse and straighten the crooked edge of your collar.

beau’s left the front door open, his shoes and backpack already tossed on the living room floor. you hesitate at the threshold. you haven’t been properly invited in, but the open door might just be beau’s way of telling you it’s alright to invade his home. at least, that’s the message you decide to take. 

crossing the threshold, you hold tight to the strap of your purse and glance around the cramped front living area. beau’s nowhere to be seen, and the home is silent as the grave. you bite the tip of your tongue when your gaze falls over a photograph of a woman holding a baby. it’s beau and his mother; has to be.

maybe... maybe you’ve overstepped your—

“beau, is that you?” the sound of heavy footfalls on stairs snaps your attention away from the photograph. before you can slip away and forget you ever had the silly notion of meeting your student’s father with the intent of something other than a professional hello, a man rounds the corner.

your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. it’s not the john deacon you’d imagined.

he’s shorter than you pictured, only several inches taller than yourself. his jaw is sharp, peppered with a five o’clock shadow, and a thick mustache almost covers his upper lip. a white wife-beater tucked into green trousers completes the ensemble, and his bare feet pad across the floor as he sticks his hand out in greeting.

“you must be the teacher!” he pumps your hand up and down, his grip crushing but his smile wide. his voice is friendly and welcoming, though you can’t be sure it was the voice you heard over the phone. so many days have passed since then, perhaps you just forgot, though it’s highly unlikely. 

“i’ve been trying to call deaky ever since i got here, but the damn fool just won’t pick up. i don’t even know where beau’s school is so i couldn’t come and get him myself. the ship we run here isn’t very tight.” he rolls his eyes with a grin. “thanks for bringing him home, darling.”

your head swims as you struggle to keep up with the man’s fast pace. so, he isn’t john deacon? and john deacon isn’t here? you open your mouth to ask the first of several questions but he beats you to it.

“hell, you look positively confused. shut the door, won’t you? the rain’s getting in, and molly was always worried about the the hardwood. i’ll put on the kettle.”

“oh, i don’t—”

he bumps your hip toward the door. “nonsense! deaky will want to thank you for driving beau home.” he’s around the corner before you can refuse, so you shut the front door against the steady rain and slip off your shoes, leaving them beside the two pairs already against the baseboard.

you’re quick to follow him to the kitchen. the walls are a muted yellow, the countertops clear but the sink full of unwashed dishes. the refrigerator in the corner is bare save for the back to school letter you gave to each student to bring home to their parents. that—and a photograph of four men in a basement. it appears to be a homegrown band of sorts, and the man behind the drumkit is shouting at the man who looks like an overgrown string bean. you’re not sure which one is john, so you turn away, feeling rather out of place when the man at the stovetop says:

“beau’s probably in his room. he always holes himself away as soon as he gets back. doesn’t come out until supper. that’s when deaky gets home.” a pair of mugs clatter against each other as he pulls them from a cupboard. “brian says it’s just a phase, that he’ll grow out of it once he processes molly’s death, but i’m not certain.” the man’s eyes flicker to you, and he laughs, loud and short. “oh dear, i’ve done it again! i forgot you’re not in the loop. i’m freddie,” he explains. “part-time nanny, full-time diva.”

you accept the mug of tea as freddie passes it to you, a smile lifting your tight mouth. “[y/n] [y/l/n]. so you’re beau’s... nanny?” 

freddie drops to the round kitchen table shoved in the space between the kitchen counter and the wall. you follow suit and stir a drop of sugar in your tea. “you could call it that. i just watch him in the afternoons, between school and deaky getting home.” he sighs. “since molly... well, things have been hard to juggle.”

“i thought mr. deacon picked beau up from school? unless that was you in the car i saw?”

“heavens no! i don’t drive!” freddie laughs again. “that was deaky you saw. he takes his break at the garage long enough to pick beau up and bring him here. i guess he and rog were overrun today. bet beau was terrified. poor dear...”

you glance over your shoulder, down the dim hallway leading to, you assume, beau’s bedroom. there’s a half-full laundry basket deposited outside another open door, perhaps the bathroom. a few mislaid toys litter the carpet. it’s reassuring, knowing that beau has a few good men in his life, willing and ready to raise him. still, there’s a pervading sense of loneliness throughout the bungalow. you saw it in the photos on the living room wall, but it’s here too: in the dead roses, brittle to the touch, in the table vase; in the index-card note tucked on a notch in the cupboard, the feminine handwriting unreadable from your spot at the table.

freddie’s voice is somber when its breaks through the thick air. “complications of pneumonia,” he says, following your gaze to a wedding photo on the hallway wall. “it came on quick but didn’t last long, thank heaven.”

unbidden, tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’ve never felt more like an intruder—and you know why.

your crush on john deacon is misplaced. you see that now. realizing what you’ve done in coming here—twist a child’s terrified moment of abandonment for your gain—makes you sick to your stomach. what kind of person are you? assuming a recently widowed father would be at all interested in his son’s pesky teacher? the thought brings a flush to your cheeks, and you rise from the table all too fast. the mugs of tea wobble when your knee connects with the underside of the table.

freddie frowns at you. “you okay, love?”

“i—” how to explain yourself without sounding a total fool or heartless woman? “i think i’ve overstayed my welcome” is all that comes to mind, and you aren’t surprised when freddie uses his foot to push your chair back out from under the table.

“sit down. john will be home soon. let him thank you then you can go.”

from where you stand, you look to your right. the front door practically screams for you to politely decline freddie’s insistence and high-tail it to your car, to get out while you still have the chance. but he’s making it too easy to stay for what you’ve come for: a peek at the illusive john deacon. you know you should go, that you should leave well enough alone, but despite your best intentions, you find yourself sitting down again and allowing freddie to bombard you with questions about teaching life.

half an hour later, when your sides hurt from laughing while freddie regales you with the dramatic story of beau’s birth, the door to the garage opens and closes with a loud click. you twist in your seat, arm draped over the back, and bite your lip hard to keep from drawing in a sharp breath.

by god, he’s a stone-cold looker. better than you could have imagined.

john deacon stands in front of the garage door, his head of tight curls wet from the rain. he’s tall but not towering, his shoulders made broad by the leather jacket across his back. he hasn’t noticed you or freddie as he’s too preoccupied with wiping the grease on his fingers across a piece of soiled cloth. he turns, not towards you, but towards the hallway when beau tumbles out of his room with a shout of joy. beau races down the hall, his arms extended, and jumps into his father’s waiting embrace. john mumbles something in his son’s ear, ruffling his hair, before dropping him back to the ground. the sullen little boy jumps around his father’s feet, chattering in great detail about his day at school, though he forgoes mentioning his father’s absence in the car-line. 

you exhale, a wash of new tears covering your eyes as you stare at beau. he can be happy. you’d thought it impossible.

you must have exhaled louder than you thought because john looks over at the sound. his brow tightens in a frown of confusion, his eyes flicking back and forth between yourself and freddie, but freddie is quick to explain. he stands from the table and takes your hand, pulling you to your feet.

“deaky, this is [y/n] [y/l/n], beau’s teacher. remember you spoke to her on the phone?”

your cheeks heat at the thought of him mentioning the phone call beyond the walls of the auto-shop. warmth spreads over your face even further when he gives you a tight-lipped smile and extends his hand. you slip your fingers over his palm, and he shakes your hand.

for a moment, your hands linger as john glances at beau, who is tucked behind his leg. he cringes, groaning. “please tell me you didn’t go out of your way to bring beau home today?”

you drop your hand from his and clasp your fingers before your waist. scrunching your nose, you tilt your head to the side. “well...”

“bloody hell,” john murmurs. he screws his eyes shut and runs a palm down his face. “i’m sorry,” he says. “you shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“it was no trouble, really. in fact, you live on my way home.” the comment isn’t a falsehood. you’d realized as beau pointed his way home that your flat lie only a minutes down the road. just as it had then, the realization sends a nervous clench to your stomach now. the thought of the deacons so close...

“you must think me a horrible father.” as he says this, john reaches around to smooth his hand across beau’s back. the gesture, done mindlessly, almost makes you laugh. how could anyone find him a horrible father?

“absolutely not, mr. deacon.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward in something close to a smile. “john, please.”

you roll your lips together and blink rapidly to keep your eyes from going wide. john. “lots of people miss the car-line. it happens more often than you think.”

“well, let me give you something for your trouble.” he slides past you, the scent of cologne and car oil in his wake. his movements are stiff, hampered by beau who insists on clinging to his father’s leg, his ankles crossed over john’s foot. 

“i don’t want anything, john.” you almost trip over his name. it tastes good, strong and steady. god, you’ve got it bad. “it wasn’t a hassle.”

john ignores you as he slides open a kitchen drawer. unsatisfied with its contents, he reaches for another before meeting your eyes with a wry smile. “all we’ve got is take-out menus anyway.” he shuffles nearer, beau still heavy on his leg. “thank you, ms. [y/l/n], for bringing him home. i got sidetracked at the shop and—” he sighs. “anyway, just... thanks.”

“again, you’re welcome—and call me [y/n].”

there’s a moment where you’re simply staring at one another, the room around you lulled to a comfortable silence. john is handsome, of this there is no doubt. perhaps he’s not striking in a classical way but you’re sure someone would have killed to chisel a bust of his face during the sixteenth century. it’s regal and sure in all the right places, but soft where it counts: around the eyes. when he chuckles at something freddie says, his eyes fold around the edges, and your heart all but gives out.

“what do you say, [y/n]?”

“sorry?” hopeful no one caught you ogling, you bring your attention front and center, turning to freddie. his proposal dawns on you a second too late to be anything but obvious. “stay for dinner? no, i can’t do that.”

“why not?” freddie reaches out to pinch your forearm. “it’s our way of saying thanks, and neither of us will try to poison you with our cooking. we’ll just have brian bring something ‘round.”

you shake your head and scoot around freddie to lift the handbag hanging from a kitchen chair. “i’d like to, but i’ve stayed too long already. perhaps another time.”

prying beau from his leg, john trails behind freddie as you make your way to the front door. freddie wishes you well, reminding you to drop by any time, and john simply lifts his hand in a motionless wave. on the front stoop, hair tangled around your face by a sharp wind, you lean your torso across the threshold.

“mr. deacon—i mean, john,” you say quickly, willing your voice to sound stronger than you feel. “if you’d like, i can drive beau home in the afternoons. i live not five minutes from here, and it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

john hesitates. beau stands in the kitchen, his head poked around the corner. john looks over at his son then back at you. “that’s a kind offer, but i like coming to the school.”

your eyes flick to beau, to his round, soft face and intelligent eyes. yes, if you were his mother you’d enjoy coming to pick him up too.

with a nod, you retreat into the wind. “well, the offer still stands.”

as you slide into your car and pull out of the driveway, waving to beau who now stands in the doorway, you hope against hope that john will accept the offer one day—just so long as it means you get to see him again.

he calls during the middle of show-and-tell. you nearly forgo the call as abby sinclair insists on lifting her pet toad for all to see and you’re worried she’ll drop it, but you’re waiting for a message from the front desk—missing package again—so you pick up on the last ring.

“hello?”

“hi, ms. [y/l/n]. it’s john deacon. is this a bad time?”

“oh, mr. deacon!” you wince at the delight coloring your voice and tear your eyes away from abby, who has handed her toad off to max. “i was expecting a call from the front office.”

he snorts out a rushed laugh. “sorry to disappoint.”

you brush a lock of hair behind your ear. “no, not at all.” out of the corner of your eye you catch max squeezing abby’s toad between his palms, and you push the phone away from your ear. “oy! max, knock it off! abby, please put the toad back, dear?”

john is chuckling on the other end of the line when you return to the call. “sorry,” you say. “show-and-tell.”

“i know. beau was excited this morning.”

with a smile, you glance at the boy in question. “he did very well. everyone was impressed with what he brought.”

“brian made that for him as a birthday gift, so he can’t take any of the credit.”

“he didn’t! he explained who made the planets, but he did want to be clear about who painted the stars.” you hesitate, the sound of laughter over your shoulder reminding you not to get too entangled by the sound of john’s voice. “is there something i can do for you, mr. deacon?”

“right, yes. well, it’s a bit awkward... do you remember a few weeks ago when you drove beau home?”

you nod, the memory lifting from your heart with ease. how could you forget? you only replay the evening like a film every night before you fall asleep. “of course”

“do you remember offering to drive him home again?”

“yes.”

“i’m in a jam at the shop and can’t leave this afternoon. would you mind? taking him home, that is.”

you answer without hesitation. “i can do that. it’s not a problem.”

“you’re a life-saver. it’s just with freddie not driving... i guess what i mean to say is thanks. it helps me out a lot.”

“i’m happy to do it, john.”

“i promise i’ll make it worth your while this time. proper take-out and all.”

“you really don’t have to do that,” you say, hoping he does anyway.

“no, freddie will insist. i’ll let you get back to class for now. thanks, [y/n].”

“don’t mention it. good luck with your jam at the shop. i hope it’s cleared up soon.”

“me too. all the sooner to get back to beau—and you.”

he hangs up before you can respond, and you’re left with your jaw scraping the floor and your heart in your throat.

all the sooner to get back to you.

the words circle your head like a drug for the remainder of the day. you can barely focus as you teach, stumbling over your words and through math equations and spelling tests. 

surely he didn’t mean it like that. he probably just tacked you on at the end of the sentence in his haste to get back to work. he probably wasn’t thinking when he spoke.

but, by god, you were listening. 

you’ve never been so head-over-heels for a man in your life. each day when you wake up with john at the forefront of your mind, you wish for a morning where you can stay in bed and dream of him all day—his voice, his smile, his gentle way with beau. it all makes you crazy. ami calls your fascination puppy love and claims it will fade with time, but you wonder if it’s gone deeper. you’re interested in more than john deacon’s looks. you’re interested in what makes him tick and whether or not he’s in a band with the three other men who constantly appear in every conversation you share and whether or not he misses his wife and what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning. you what to know him and be known by him.

all the sooner to get back to you.

perhaps it’s wishful thinking—a dreamy idea on the part of a lovesick woman—but part of you wonders if he feels the same way about you.

driving beau home becomes part of an unspoken routine. after sharing dinner at the deacon household that second evening, john admits when walking you to your car how overwhelmed he can feel between his job at the auto-shop and his responsibilities with beau. with a tentative hand on his forearm, you promise you’ll help lighten the load. he thanks you by squeezing your fingers with his, and then he’s gone.

it begins by driving beau home every monday, wednesday, and friday. you enjoy your time with him. as soon as he settles in the back seat of your station wagon, he comes alive. the protective shell he wears in the classroom is replaced by the bright and earnest eyes of a seven year old boy, curious about the world and all it has to hold. he asks you questions and tells you stories, and you laugh as you watch the light dance in his eyes. he’s a sweet child, and you truly treasure the afternoons you spend with him.

one friday, you drop him off and find the cozy bungalow empty. beau has stopped retreating to his room once returning from school—at least, this is what freddie tells you—so you’re not completely surprised when beau invites you in for an afternoon snack. you are surprised by the empty house, however. freddie is nowhere to be seen and neither is john. what concerns you even further is when beau opens the refrigerator and slams it shut with a huff.

“nothin’,” he mutters, slumping to the table with a groan.

“what?”

“there’s nothing in the fridge.”

“what do you mean by that?” you cross the floor and open the fridge, hoping beau’s comment is nothing more than a hungry child displeased with the array of choice and nothing to his liking, but you find his statement to be true. the fridge is woefully stocked—naught but a half-filled carton of orange juice, three apples, and a sandwich wrapped in tinfoil. you glance over your shoulder. “is it always like this?”

“no.” beau circles about on his chair. “but it’s happened a few times since dad and uncle rog got more busy at the shop.”

“well, that won’t do. grab your shoes, beau, we’re going to the market.”

once returned from your grocery run, you teach beau how to make spaghetti. he stands beside you on a stool, pushed up on his toes as he watches you prepare the boiling water and pasta. as you wait for the pasta to soften, you set about crafting a homemade pasta sauce. it’s your mother’s recipe, and it’s easy to make. easy enough that you allow beau to carefully slice the tomatoes under your supervision and dice the onions and sprinkle the spices.

the kitchen smells like your childhood: fragrant yet simple, sweet and comforting. somewhere in the waiting for the sauce to simmer, beau turns on a radio and draws you to the center of the kitchen. he holds your hand tight and kicks his feet to the music. you laugh and mirror his movements. he grabs your other hand and steps on his stool, forcing you to bend in an awkward twirl around his finger. you struggle but complete the movement, though he attaches himself to your shoulders like a barnacle. you whirl around on your socked feet in attempt to toss him off, but he holds tight, his fingernails digging into the skin of your collarbone. he squeals in your ear, a mixture of laughter and gasping breath and shrieks.

“mama, mama, stop!” 

he says it without thinking, his head lolling against your shoulder as you stop short at the sound of his breathless voice. he giggles against your back then releases himself and slides to the floor. you stare at him, feel his words in the back of your throat like an uncomfortable burn, and then you hear the garage door shut.

you swallow hard and force your eyes from the yellow-and-white linoleum floor. beau hops from his stool, sauce-covered spoon in hand, and rushes to his father’s side.

“daddy, look, we made dinner! miss [y/l/n] and me!” he tugs on john’s shirtsleeve, but john’s just staring at you, his face unreadable. beau turns to one of the other three men crowding the hall behind john. “uncle roggie, taste it!” he forces the spoon in the face of a mulleted blond.

eager to break the thick tension, you motion to the spaghetti. “i—there wasn’t anyone home so...” your sentence trails off, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

so many eyes on you. you feel exposed against them all, caught in a domestic moment with a child that’s not your own in a home that’s not your own.

john looks over his shoulder, eyes flashing in anger. “fred?”

freddie winces. “about that, deak.” he rubs the back of his neck and glances at beau. “i can explain later.”

“you’d better,” john mutters.

“i should go,” you say at once, hastily grabbing your things from the table. your keys jingle in your hand with the force of your anxiety, and you stub your toe against the floor in your hurry to put your shoes back on.

john’s hand on your arm stops you. you look up, stooped as you try to slip the back of your sandal over your heel. he looks down at you, face still remarkably unreadable. “no, please stay,” he says. “you made supper.”

you shake your head and rise to your full height. “i’ve intruded enough already.”

you’re embarrassed, too. the gaggle of men heard beau’s slip up; they heard him mistake you for his mother—and certainly they saw the immediate flush of happiness rise over your cheeks at the sound.

mama. you’d always hoped, always wished, someone would call you that one day. you just didn’t think you’d hear it from a student with a deceased mother and a father you pined after first.

“[y/n], stay.” john’s voice is soft, breathy, and his eyes flit back and forth between yours with a startling amount of intensity. 

how can you say no?

once the dinner has been divided, you sit beside john on the couch in the living room. the kitchen table is too small to host the gathering, so the living room was deemed appropriate just this once, to beau’s great delight. he sits on the floor at the coffee table, a tall glass of milk beside his plate of pasta, his eyes bouncing over everyone in the room with unrestrained joy.

“beau, why don’t you introduce everyone for miss [y/l/n]? she doesn’t know all your uncles.” john nods to his son in encouragement, and beau is only happy to take the job.

standing, beau crosses first to the impressively tall and curly-haired man sat beside him on the floor. “this is uncle brian. he likes space and teaches all the big kids at uni.” 

he moves to freddie, who sits on a plush armchair. “this is uncle freddie, but you already know him.”

the last man leans against the foyer table, his ankles crossed and sunglasses still perched on his nose. beau pats his arm. “this is uncle roger and he works with daddy.” in a stage whisper, he adds, “he thinks he’s a lot cooler than he really is.”

roger guffaws and lightly pushes beau’s head to the side. “oy, you twerp, take that back!”

glancing about the room, you nod in greeting. “it’s nice to meet you all. i’ve heard quite a bit.”

brian smiles at you from the floor. his legs are bent awkwardly beneath the coffee table, and you’ve noticed the way he helps beau cut his side salad and keep sauce from dripping to the area rug. “all good things i hope?”

“oh yes, of course.”

“[y/n], dear, you really must tell brian what that student of yours did last week,” freddie pipes up. “it had me laughing well into the night. i’m sure some of his twenty-year olds are much the same.”

“i shouldn’t, fred.” you look at beau, who is watching you in interest. 

freddie nods in understanding and tugs on his earlobe. “little ears, yes. maybe another time.” he pushes brian’s shoulder with his foot. “really is a riot of a story.”

as supper progresses, conversation twists and turns down different avenues. you explain how you came to teach in the area and find you used to work with one of brian’s newer colleagues. freddie tells the group about his recent run-in with an angry bird watcher in the park. his gestures are so grandiose he whacks roger in the chest, who has come to sit on the arm of fred’s chair. there’s more laughter than there is silence, and you settle back in the couch. at one point, john drapes his arm over the back of the couch—not around your shoulders, but close enough to send your heart into overdrive. it’s all you can focus on—the proximity of his muscular arm behind your head—as brian explains to beau the difference between the big and little dippers. even as roger describes the ramshackle band they four participate in on the weekends, you barely register the words because you swear to the high heavens you feel john’s pointer finger purposefully brush against your shoulder.

beau begins to yawn sometime near the eight o’clock hour, and you jump from the couch when you realize you’ve stayed so late.

“good lord, i’ve got to go!” you shuffle about the room, gathering your belongings, as john rises behind you. “i didn’t know it was so late!”

his hands are in his pockets, and he studies you as you put your shoes on. “got a big date tomorrow?”

you frown. “no,” you say on a laugh. “i’ve actually got breakfast with my mum.”

he looks away for a moment, but you can’t help but note the edge of a smile.

he grabs his jacket from the coat-stand when you’re ready. “i’ll walk you out.”

at the door you wave to the others. “good night, all! it was nice to meet you.”

roger tips an imaginary hat. “i’m sure we’ll meet again, [y/n], if deaky has anything to say about it.”

freddie kicks the back of roger’s leg, and the injured man doubles over in a yelp of pain. “you fucker!” freddie mutters. “you know that—”

john ushers you out the door before you can see or hear any more.

the night air is chilly, and you warm your arms around yourself. you reach for your keys in the depths of your purse and slide them into the lock on the driver’s side of your car. it’s dark out. you can barely make out john’s features beneath the light of the moon, but when he shuffles to the side, an automatic flood light turns on above the garage. you blink against the sudden light and smile, chuckling beneath your breath as your vision adjusts. you’re not eager to leave quite yet, and he doesn’t seem eager to send you away, so you both stand, looking at one another in the darkness of the drive.

“your friends are nice,” you say.

he hums in agreement. “m’yes, they are. we just started as a screw-around band a few years back, but when molly got sick...” he pauses, clasps his hand on the back of his neck, and shrugs. “they’ve been my lifeline, y’know?”

“i can’t imagine what that was like, losing her. i’m glad you had them around.” you suck in a deep breath. “about earlier... i didn’t know beau was going to say that, and i’m sorry it happened. i realize that my... involvement might appear to be me wheedling my way into your family, but that’s not it, really! i mean, i like you and beau—as friends—but i’m not trying to...” you sigh, shaking your head. “i’m sorry it happened ‘s all. i don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

before you know what’s happening, john’s reaching out to cup your cheek. his smile is soft in the glow of the moon and the floodlight, and your heart stops in your chest. 

his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “i haven’t seen beau that happy in a long time. you’ve brought a lot of joy back into the house, [y/n].”

you’re sure you’re sweating despite the chill of night. you shake your head, but his hand holds fast against your face. “no,” you whisper. your voice sounds heady, even to your own ears. “beau’s just a good kid.”

“yes, and you’re a good teacher.” 

is his face inching closer? you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

“a good teacher and a good person.”

if it weren’t for your firm hold on the car door handle, you think you might slip to the ground in a puddle of goo. 

his lips are on yours, then, and you fall into his arms as he holds you against himself. you have dreamt of this moment far too many times to count, but you never thought it would happen. really, you thought you would finish the year without ever knowing the taste of john’s deacons lips. 

but there he is, and there you are, and he tastes like the wine he drank during supper. he is more eager than you thought he would be, and soon he has your back pressed against the door of your car. you huff into his mouth and feel your eyes roll back into your head when he drags his lips across your jaw, inching closer to that spot behind your ear. your arms practically quiver around his shoulders, and you open your eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of a particularly bright star winking down at you.

he catches your lips again, and you feel hot and delicious all over.

“john,” you mumble against his mouth. “john.” 

loathe as you are to stop the moment, you do, pushing his shoulders until he pulls himself away. his hand still cradles your hip, and he looks flushed in the moonlight. you’re sure you look equally as rumpled.

you grin. “well.”

he matches your smile, though it’s fleeting. “call you, yeah?”

unlocking your car door, you nod. “please do, mr. deacon.”

he shakes his head on a chuckle and shuts the door, waving gently as you pull out of the drive. when you’re several homes away, out of eyesight, you drift to the side of the road and blast the air conditioner. then you pound your fists against the steering wheel and let out a muffled squeal of delight.

he doesn’t call you. 

when you sit down to think about it, it’s not that great of a surprise. you’ve been around him only a handful of times, and though you’ve both been comfortable in those moments, you don’t blame him for resisting whatever it is he feels for you. there’s beau to think about. you’re his teacher; surely there’s some line you shouldn’t be crossing? there’s molly too, and her memory and the years they spent together and the child they had together. 

if anything, you figure he’s using you to test the waters of romance again. those stolen touches and deep stares and that kiss in the drive—it’s all just experimentation. the conclusion drawn from those experiments? he’s not ready.

you sigh, take another sip of wine. maybe you should stop driving beau. you like john; you like him a lot. and after that kiss, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. you thought about him before, but never this much. he threatens to consume your every waking moment, and it scares you because he’s not interested. desperately pining after a disinterested man means one thing: ruin. if you stop driving beau home, put some distance between yourself and the deacons, the puppy love and infatuation will fade over time.

it has to or you’ll go crazy.

it’s early evening, and your stomach grumbles. your flat is quiet as you putter around the kitchen in search of a suitable supper. there’s not much in the cupboards and even less in the fridge. you desperately need to go to the grocery store. take-out it is. withdrawing a handful of menus, you spread them out on the counter and flip through them mindlessly.

your thoughts are elsewhere. always on john.

you wonder what compelled him to kiss you. he’s an enigma, john deacon. you’ve seen him in moments of great levity—when he’s around beau or his friends or recounting a story from his youth. he has an infectious laugh, delightful crinkles around his eyes, and a quick wit. but he can be hard, too, like an immovable stone. he’s quick to toss a glare at anyone in his way in those moments of weakness, and his biting wit can turn sour at the drop of a hat. you chalk it up to weariness, those moments. weariness, loneliness, frustration. it doesn’t phase you, though perhaps it should.

with a groan, you drop your forehead to the cool counter and shut your eyes. the kiss lingers on your lips; it has the entire week since. you want him badly—in more ways than one.

the telephone rings, and you startle, clutching a paper menu to your chest. “fuck,” you whisper. you need to get a hobby other than daydreaming. pressing the phone to your ear, you barely get out a word of greeting before someone’s shouting at you on the other end.

“[y/n]? it’s fred! we’ve got a fuckin’ problem over here.”

you frown. “freddie? what’s going on? why are you are john’s? it’s a saturday.”

“no time for that! how fast can you get here?”

“well, i don’t know. i’ve got to—”

“beau’s sick! he’s on the bathroom floor, moaning and groaning and—shit!—[y/n], i don’t know what to do!”

“i’m sure it’s just a tummy ache, fred,” you say. “i see it all the time in my class. give him some pepto and he’ll be fighting fit in the morning.”

“no, [y/n]!” something in fred’s tone—a raw, animal fear—has you standing straight, your heart stuttering in your chest. “he said he feels like he’s gonna die just like molly did!”

“okay, okay.” you begin to move toward your bedroom, but are yanked back by the phone chord attached to the wall. you stumble backwards with a grunt. “okay, i’m coming, fred. just hold tight.”

“fucking hurry!”

you slam the phone down, rush to your bedroom to change from your nightclothes, and jump in the car without a pair of shoes. as quickly as you can you race to the deacon household. the sun dips low, casting an orange glow over the suburban streets lined with family cars. you grip the steering wheel tight, your heart thumping a prayer of protection for beau. 

the driveway of the bungalow is empty, the garage door thrown open. the old convertible john toys with in the evenings is parked inside, but his everyday vehicle is gone. cutting the engine of your car, you run through the garage and into the house. fred stands in the hallway, pressed against the bathroom door. he looks ridiculous, clad in a bright yellow bathroom and bunny slippers, but he pounds his fist against the door, pleading for beau to unlock it and let him in. he turns at the sound of your bag dropping on the carpet.

“oh, thank god,” he breathes. he grabs your arm and wrenches you to his side. “beau, miss [y/l/n] is here. why do you talk with her, huh?”

before you say anything to beau, you frown at freddie. “where’s john?” your whisper sound harsh in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“at the shop. overtime. i can’t reach him.”

you jerk your head to the phone sitting on a side-table in the living room. “go try again and i’ll stick with beau here.” when he’s gone, you slide to a sitting position on the floor and press your ear to the thin wood of the door. “beau? beau, honey, it’s me.”

beau only groans in response.

“beau, can you please open the door? i want to help you. that’s it; just help.”

there’s a pause then you hear: “no. go away.”

“it’s okay if you’re embarrassed, beau. we all get sick sometimes. fred and i just want to help you feel better.”

there’s the sound of water sloshing and then a hard sniff. “i want my mommy.”

“oh, baby, i know.” you clear your throat to work past the lump rising to the surface. “come on, just let me in. i promise it’ll be okay.”

“but... what if i die like her too?”

“that’s not gonna happen, beau. i promise.” he doesn’t respond, so you plead once more. “please let me in.”

he shuffles to the door, unclicks the lock, and cracks it open. through the opening, you can see his pale face gleaming with sweat. gently, you push the door open further.

beau’s curled on the floor, his head bent toward his knees. his arms tighten around his stomach, and a spasm ripples through his body. he’s dripping with sweat, his star wars pajamas soaked through. hot air clogs the room, and you switch on the overhead fan. pressing your fingers to his forehead, you cringe and draw back. he’s burning up.

“beau, baby, what hurts?” you finger some of the sweat-matted hair away from his forehead. 

“my tummy.”

“what’s your tummy feel like?”

beau shakes his head into the floor. “bad.”

“do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

“already did. on my floor.” he opens his eyes long enough to stare at you through thick lashes. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize about that. we’ll get it cleaned up later. i’m just gonna go get you some water, okay?”

he groans, shifting against another spasm of pain. “okay.”

stepping back into the hall, you grab freddie’s arm before he can slip into the bathroom. you tug him to the safety of the kitchen. his eyes dance between yours, expectant.

“well?”

“did you get ahold of john?”

“no, the fucker.”

“we’ll have to go pick him up then.”

fred’s brow twitches. “what? why? what’s wrong with him?”

you throw a glance down the hall when beau whines. “i think it might be his appendix. my dad’s burst last summer and he looked a lot like beau does now.”

“fuckin’ hell.” freddie runs a hand across his mouth. “just what deaky needs.”

you nod in agreement. “i know. we’ve got to take beau to a hospital, though, before it gets any worse.”

“yeah, yeah, i know. go get the car started and i’ll meet you in a minute.”

several minutes later, you’re en route to the auto-shop, freddie cradling beau in the backseat of your station wagon. the drive is tense, your bare foot hard on the gas pedal. beau wrestles and whines against freddie’s hold, continuously asking for his parents and where you’re taking him.

no one wants to say the word hospital, so his cries go unanswered.

freddie directs you to the auto-shop, his phrases terse, and you pull into the drive with a sharp squeal of tires on gravel. with the car still running, you hurry across the parking lot, loose pebbles catching on your feet. music blasts from a stereo within the garage. it’s loud and obnoxious and keeps you from locating john fast enough.

“can i help ya, miss?” a lithe man steps out of a side office, his hairline receding and face near gaunt. 

“yes—i’m looking for john deacon.”

the man continuously wipes his hands on a dirty rag. none of the oil and grease on his fingers budges. “he’s down there.”

dirt and grime covers the bottoms of your feet as you race down the shop. cars of all varieties line the wall to your left, some stationary on the ground, others lifted towards the vaulted ceiling. there’s a handful of men at work, but you don’t recognize any of them as john. you’re prepared to start shouting his name when a familiar voice stops you.

“[y/n]?” it’s roger. “can’t get enough of our deaky, can you?” he’s chuckling as he steps out from behind a truck. “what are you doing here?”

“it’s beau,” you say, and his face falls.

“over here.” roger wastes no time in finding john beneath a volkswagon beetle. only john’s legs are visible, his knees bent and leather boots firm on the floor. he curses when roger hooks the toes of his shoes around a curve in the sliding plate on the floor and drags john out from under the car.

“what the fuck, rog? i—” john stills when his eyes land on you. his muscle tee is loose over his chest, and a line of grease mars his forehead. he swallows. “[y/n]... i...” he sits up. “i’ve been meaning to—”

though you’re curious about the end of his sentence, you cut him off. “beau’s sick. we’ve got to take him to hospital.”

the blood drains from john’s face in an instant. the wrench in his hand clatters to the cement ground, and he’s grabbing your elbow, pulling you toward the exit, before you can say anything more.

“crystal, i’m gone!” he shouts, practically shoving you in the direction of the car.

there’s either no reply or you don’t hear it because john shouts for freddie to move the fuck over and give him beau. you slide behind the wheel and pause, twisting to catch a look at the scene in the back. 

beau looks like a newborn swaddled in his father’s arms. his face is wet with tears and sweat, and he sobs in his father’s grasp. john feels beau’s forehead and frowns, muttering an oath under his breath. then his eyes flick to yours.

“what are you waiting for? go!”

you don’t need to be told twice.

it’s another fifteen minutes before you reach the hospital. your head throbs under the stress of it all: beau’s pitiful moans for help, john urging you to go faster, freddie barking directions as he slaps the headrest behind you. before you’ve pulled to a complete stop, john is out, beau in his arms. you shoo freddie after him. 

“go! i’ll park the car.”

by the time you’ve found a parking space and picked your way across the parking lot, beau’s been admitted for emergency surgery. his appendix, as you suspected. it’s a routine procedure, and he’ll be fine within the next hour. relief floods your system at the news, and you find john and freddie sitting beneath a large fish tank in the waiting room. you take the open spot beside john and cross your ankles.

“your feet are disgusting,” fred says. he points to the bottoms of your feet, dark with dust, dirt, and grime. 

you shrug. “forgot shoes.”

the quiet of the waiting room is both a comfort and annoyance. a clock on the wall ticks loudly, and the fish tank bubbles at an uneven rate. every breath you take feels too loud, and the antiseptic smells cling to the inside of your nose.

still, the quiet gives you a moment of rest. you catch your breath. you let the knowledge of skilled and capable doctors working on beau ease your heart-rate. it will all be okay; he’s going to be okay.

you glance at john. his fist is pressed against his mouth, his eyes shut. his leg bounces, and you dare to reach over and lay your hand against his knee. he stills, his eyes flashing to you.

“he’s going to be okay, john.”

on the other side of john, freddie jumps to his feet. “i’m going bananas just sitting here.” he rubs the side of his head. “might burst. i’m gonna give brian a call.” he stalks away, his bunny slippers slapping against the linoleum floor.

you shake your head, biting back the urge to smile.

but then john’s fingers curl around yours, and you can’t help but give into the grin.

you look up, meet his eyes.

“i didn’t call you,” he says.

“no, you didn’t.”

he shifts in seat and looks to the floor. “you should be wearing shoes.”

at the turn of conversation, you frown then follow his gaze. “yes, i suppose.”

“take mine.” he releases your hand to bend down and undo his laces.

“no, john, don’t be silly. i’m fine.”

“please, [y/n], take the shoes.” he slides the boots toward you, and you begrudgingly slip your feet into the warmth of his shoes. 

you look silly, the pair of you—your ill-fit mtv t-shirt, loose jeans, and oversized leather boots; his muscle tee with the aptly faded word muscle scrawled across the chest, his faded jeans, and socked feet. one of his toes pokes through the end of his sock, and his exposed arms look cold in the frigid air of the waiting room. you laugh.

“we look like a pair of bikers or something.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “not much of a biker. that’s crystal’s territory.” he doesn’t look at you when he continues speaking. “i’m sorry i didn’t call.”

on a sigh, you drag the boots across the carpet. though it pains you to do so, you let him off the hook. “it’s not a big deal, john. it was just a kiss. no promises.”

“i know.” his head tilts to the side. “but i wanted to call you. nearly did twice, but i chickened out.” he turns, then, and meets your eye. “i like you, [y/n].”

you smile, but know it doesn’t reach your eyes. still, you reach for his hand again. “i like you too, john. i’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your family.”

he shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is firm. “no, i like you. that’s why i kissed you and that’s why i didn’t call. because you make me so bloody nervous.”

your shoulders drop, as does your jaw.

“ever since you dropped beau off that first time, i’ve been thinking about you and about you and him together and then he called you mum and i saw the way you acted with him and—” he pauses for a breath. “molly was different with beau. i mean, she loved him, but she was always so fragile and worried and—and that’s not the point! the point is that you make beau happy and you make me happy. and i want to be happy again.”

“john...”

his grip on your hand tightens as he leans closer. “make me happy, yeah? i’m stubborn as a mule and shy, too, but i want you—badly.”

the fire in your heart spreads at his words. it spreads throughout your body until you feel like you could burst and shine a light into even the darkest corners of the earth. a laugh bubbles forth from between your lips. you lift a hand to stifle it.

“you want to know something?” you ask.

“what?”

“i’ve been pining after you, john deacon, ever since i heard your voice over the phone. i was content to just wallow in my daydreams, but this seems better.” you lift your fingers to brush his chin. “a lot better.”

“i can’t promise i’ll make a good boyfriend. i’m pretty rusty.”

“me too. we can be rusty together.”

he grins, leans forward further, his nose brushing yours. “can’t promise there won’t be hiccups. i’ve got baggage.”

“i can carry it.”

he kisses you, his hand on the back of your head, keeping you firm against his mouth. you grin, your teeth knocking his as you laugh. his curls are soft against your fingertips, and you hold on for dear life when he chuckles into your smile.

“mr. deacon?”

john kisses you once, twice more, before pulling away to look at the doctor. “yeah?” he doesn’t sound the least bit embarrassed to be caught in such a position in the middle of a hospital waiting room, but you hide your face against his neck. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide.

“beau’s ready to see you now.”

john stands and extends at hand. “comin’, dove?”

your footfalls are hard against the ground, the boots heavy around your ankles, as you walk with him hand-in-hand to beau’s hospital room. you lean against his side, breathe the comfort of him in, and smile.

yes, this is much better than your daydreams—baggage, boots, beau, and all.

[hopelikethemoon]

In the Dark (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: In the Dark  Rating: Explicit  Length: 1300 Warnings: Smut (sleepy sex, cock warming) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in 1997 after Cracks. Summary: Javier helps Reader sleep. 

@grapemama​​ @seawhisperer​​ @huliabitch​​ @beccaplaying​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​ @livasaurasrex​​ @ham4arrow​​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73​​ @hdlynn​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​  @roxypeanut​​ @snivellusim​​ @lukesrighthand​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​ @awesomefandomsunited​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​ @ah-callie​​ @swhiskeys​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​ @u-wakatoshii​ @space-floozy​​ @cable-kenobi​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​​ @himbopoes​​ @findhimfives​​ @pedrosdoll​​ @frietiemeloen​​ @arrowswithwifi​​  @cinewhore​​ @random066​​ @uncomicalhumour​​ @heather-lynn​​ @domino-oh-damn​​ @cyarikaaa​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​ @yabby-girl​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​​ @coredrive​​ @pascalesque​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​ @queenquazar​​ @sabinemorans​​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​ @yespolkadotkitty​​@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​ @jaime1110​​ @katlikeme

“You awake?” Javier mumbled when you rolled over for the third time, unable to find a comfortable position to lay in. 

“Yeah.” You answered, readjusting your pillow under your head. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“You’re good, baby.” He reached out and ran his hand down the center of your back, before curling his fingers around your hip. “What’s wrong?”

“Just restless,” You rubbed at your eyes and stifled a yawn. “Go back to sleep, we shouldn’t both suffer.”

Javier shifted closer to you, his breath warm against your bare shoulder. “You should’ve let me help.” His words were muffled against your skin as his hand slid from your thin to the upper part of your thigh. 

You have a breathless laugh at that, “The moment had passed.” And even though you claimed that the moment had passed, your body responded to his touch, warming you straight through to your core.

“We’ve reclaimed moments before.” He reminded you, palming at the soft flesh of your thigh. 

What he was saying was true. How many times had you salvaged a moment that Josie had interrupted? Now you had two interrupters, a dog, a burgeoning case of depression that put a damper on fun. 

Javier pressed a line of kisses up the back of your neck until he reached your hairline. “Tell me to stop and I’ll roll back over and go back to sleep, baby.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “I’m still deciding.” You told him, shifting back so your ass was pressed against his groin. 

Both of you were trying to reclaim a lot more than just one moment. Before you started going to therapy — it had been seven months since Javier had touched you like he desired you. You couldn’t blame him. You were not  at your best, even after you’d healed from having Sofía. 

Things were just off and you’d been too devoid of emotion to care about getting it back on track. Unintentionally that void between the two of you had grown into an unmistakable canyon. 

“Think you can get it up again, babe?” You taunted, grinding back against his half-hard cock. 

Despite not being able to come yourself, you’d made sure to get him off before tending to your newborn. And you’d tried to convince yourself that watching his face had been enough for you as you climbed off his cock and wrapped your lips around him instead. 

“You know I can,” Javier rasped out as he ran his hand up your side, fingers spanning out over your ribs just below your breast. “Let me help you, baby.” 

“Take your time.” You told him, reaching behind to drag your fingers through his hair. 

Javier pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, his tongue dipping out over your skin as his teeth scraped. “You wanna fall asleep with my cock in you, baby?” His voice was still rough from his own exhaustion, but the edge in it made you burn. 

He ran his hand down your stomach, avoiding where you wanted his fingers to go. He pressed firmly, trapping you against him.

“I can’t think of a better way to fall asleep.” You told him, grinding back against him. His cock was no longer half hard. “You know you love it too, Javi.” You tugged at his hair and your next words got lost in a gasp as his teeth sank into the crook of your neck — hard enough to leave a mark. And you hoped he had.

You were reclaiming all the desires you felt and this was one need help could always sate. 

Javier wrestled with your shorts and underwear, tossing them halfway across the bedroom in his haste to get you naked. 

“Fuck.” He hissed against your ear, his mustache making you squirm backwards, even though you couldn’t escape his hold. He’d snaked his other arm between you and the bed, pinning you against his chest. 

Your nails bit into his forearm as his other hand dipped between your thighs and discovered just how soaking wet you were. 

“No wonder you couldn’t sleep, baby.” He taunted as he dragged his thumb over your throbbing clit, two fingers parting your slick folds teasingly. “Let me take care of you.” Javier whispered, his tongue trailing down your neck. 

You nodded your head, your voice wavering, “Please, Javi.” You rolled your hips towards his touch, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. 

Javier pressed his lips against your shoulder, “You’re so fucking wet.” He whispered close to your ear, working one finger into you — which wasn’t enough. “Is this why you couldn’t sleep?”

“Maybe.” You tossed back with a smirk as you tugged at his hair again. “There’s only one way to find out.”

His fingers slipped from between your thighs and he brought them to his lips to clean them a throaty groan. You leaned back against him, twisting so you could turn your face towards him. 

You didn’t even care that you could taste yourself on his lips, your tongue sliding out to find his as you slanted your mouth against his. You dragged your teeth over his bottom lip before releasing it so you could catch your breath. 

Javier barely got his boxers down his hips before he was working to guide his cock into you. 

There was something about half-asleep in-the-dark sex. Every touch felt like more. You barely suppressed your moan as his cock filled you. His arm tightened around your stomach, your back pressed against his chest as he rolled his hips. 

“Fuck,” Javier started, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he moved behind you. 

You clenched around him, just to hear him groan against your shoulder. “Slow.” You reminded him, grabbing at his arm. 

He mumbled something that sounded like your name as he slowed his movements, grinding into you as he cradled you against his chest. “I love you.” Javier whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I love you too.” You let your eyes slip closed as you focused on the feeling of his cock moving within you, the friction and the stretch. “That’s it Javi.” 

Javier skimmed his fingers over your stomach, “Have I told you lately,” His voice wavered. “How gorgeous you are, baby?” 

His words warmed your heart as he touched every inch of skin that you were so self conscious about in the wake of having a baby. Just like he had after Josie. He worshiped you. 

“I can always hear it again.”

“So fucking gorgeous,” He told you, nipping at your earlobe as he traced his fingers over stretchmarks. “Love every inch of you, baby.”

You stroked your fingers up the back of his neck, playing with hair at the nape of his neck. “Javier.” 

“Are you going to come for me?” He trailed his fingers down your stomach, seeking out that little bundle of nerves that had your inner walls fluttering around him. “Come on, baby. Be a good girl for me.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, grinding your ass back against him. You were so close and he knew it. You could feel the pressure building and all it took was one more swipe of his thumb to set you off. 

You pressed your face into your pillow to stifle your sounds as you came around him, your body pulsing around his cock — making everything feel that much tighter. He was right behind you, breath hot against your shoulder as he came apart within you. 

All the tension in Javier’s body seemed to release in that moment, his body molding against yours as he stilled. It wasn’t the most comfortable position with his arm trapped beneath you, but fuck if you weren’t feeling like you were heaven laying there.

Javier traced the top of his nose over your shoulder as he lazily trailed his fingers over your stomach. “This is good.” He mumbled, “I missed this.”

You squeezed his hand three times. “I missed us too.” You ran your fingers over the back of his arm. “You're gonna be pins and needles if you stay like this.”

“Worth it.” Javier kissed your shoulder, humming against your skin. 

You smiled to yourself. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He nuzzled his nose against you, “Touché.”

[ciggylungz]

Summer bummer pt.2

y/n x harry pairing

summary- y/n and Harry are part of a cast of a reality show called ‘summer bummer’ that’s a uk version of the jersey shore and things are chaotic

pnot proofread, not sure if its any good pt.2

_3.9k words

 Waking up smooshed between a warm body and a hard wooden wall was what Y/n was currently experiencing, but soon the pounding headache and nausea took the front seat in her brain as she let out a low groan shifting in the hold of the man beside her as she sat up rubbing her eyes, mascara from the night before flaking onto her fist getting another irritated groan to bubble in her throat.

“quiet, try’n sleep here” Harry mumbled and turned over as she climbed out of his bed yawning and stumbling to the bathroom, peeing and taking off her messy makeup from the night before, taking a quick shower and going back upstairs to her shared room to change into some comfy shorts and a big sweatshirt pulling the hood over her damp hair to help block the brightness that’s making her head pound like a drum.

Y/n made her way into the confessional room, sitting on the couch in front of the green screen and turning on the camera the producers had there for them to do their periodic self interviews.

“so it’s like noon, I just woke up and I realized ‘holy shit, im in bed with Harry’…” she made a point to tilt her head and widen her eyes at the camera showing her bit of shock at the situation. “I was blackout wasted last night, the last thing I remember was dancing and making out with him so I’m gonna wait till he’s up to ask if we did the deed or not because I don’t remember, god first day in the house and I’m already blacking out.” She paused to laugh at herself a little before continuing, “ugh, we’ll see. My moms gonna kill me when she see this episode_- fuck_”

She sighed as she turned off the camera and went back out into the living room where some of her roommates were, all of them sleepy and hungover chatting to themselves but Y/n raised an eyebrow when she noticed Tommy give her a side eye and stop talking when she walked into the room, the camera men that were in the house filming panning their cameras between the two young adults.

“what? Why are you looking at me like that?” she didn’t waste any time in brining attention to his behavior, not in the mood for the pricks little attitude problem getting a scoff and a snarky little turn of his lips as he waved her off like a dog, and Y/n was having none of it. She stood up straighter, squaring her shoulders and pointing at the man. “Obviously you have a fucking problem so say it, fuck are you acting like a little bitch for? Thought you were a fucking tough guy.” She wasn’t scared of that guy In the slightest, he had the most punch worthy face she’s ever seen and god was he making the urge more prominent with every move of his ugly face.

“shut the fuck up bitch, you talk too fucking much. You talked shit about me at the club last night, probably just mad because I was making out with other girls and not giving your ugly ass any fucking attention you stupid bitch.” He glared at her giving her a disrespectful little smile and every other person in the room was now staring at the pair, engaged and waiting on the edge of their seats for what was gonna happen next.

Y/n couldn’t stop the laugh that came from her mouth, looking at Tommy like he was the stupidest person on the planet, because right now he sure did fit the description. “You’re joking right? I was saying how I felt sorry for those girls because you’re such a piece of shit wanker. You hit on me from the moment I walked in this house and pouty like a fucking baby when I told you to fuck off after dinner, it was on camera you prick. I’m perfectly content having you and your non existent lips far away from me.”

She was annoyed, but also amused. This guy had no fucking clue how much everyone already hated him and she loved it. He stayed silent for a minute and she took the chance to get closer to him pointing her finger right in his face, making eye contact with him, “watch who the fuck you call a bitch around here Tommy because I’ll punch you right in your smug fucking mouth, lets see how much of a tough guy you are when you get your teeth knocked in by a fucking girl.”

At this point Ryan was up off the couch and making his way between the two when he saw both of them getting even more agitated, Tom standing up and Y/n refusing to back down as he tried to intimidate her.

“alright guys, chill out. Drop it, it’s not a big deal don’t fight over stupid shit like this.” Ryan stuck his arm between them Tommy trying to push it away while Y/n started to tie up her hair yelling back and fourth with him as Ryan tried to keep them apart. “what you gonna fucking hit me Tom? Huh? You gonna hit a girl? Makes sense, you’re a pussy and act so tough till you’re throwing a tantrum when you don’t get your way. Gonna go cry to mommy because I didn’t want anything to do with you or your 2 inch dick?”

This comment of course got the reaction she was hoping, his face grew red and his body tensed just making her smirk more. “the fuck did you just say to me?” he was pissed, and Y/n was loving how she got him so mad over her comment, that’s how she knew she struck a nerve because it was definitely true. She even got some laughs from the roommates who were sitting around watching the show. Ryan turned so his left arm and part of his body was between them, looking at Tommy raising an eyebrow at him. “Watch it mate, you’re on thin ice. Lay a hand on a female in this house and you’ll never get to walk this earth again.”

Tommy clenched his jaw flickering his eyes between Ryan and Y/n like an angry child who didn’t get their way, and god was Y/n loving how he’s embarrassing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

The pair continued to argue back and fourth, him trying to insult her and her pushing his buttons – (because lets face it, he was too damn easy)- and in the midst of it Harry decided to emerge from his room, hair a mess and all sleepy. His tattoos were on full display as his shirtless body started advancing towards the arguing duo. Y/n gasped when Harry pushed her back a bit to get right in Toms face using his large body to completely cover Y/n’s as he looked down at Tommy with stone cold eyes.

“Mate I suggest you fucking keep it moving because I’m not gonna put up with you being disrespectful to anyone in this house, let alone a younger girl who didn’t do anything to you. I won’t let her fight you, but I sure as hell have no problem pounding your face in. Step off before I make you, I promise you that you don’t want that.”

Harry’s tone was serious, his muscles were taunt and flexed as he towered over the other man. Tommy of course tried to play it off and muttered a ‘whatever asshole’ as he sulked off to his room, but everyone in there knew he was almost shitting his pants from how afraid he was of Harry.

Everyone took a second to take everything in before they really spoke. Ryan gave Harry a pat on the back, “Thanks mate, dudes a proper prick. And Y/n, you’re a bad ass fuckin’ girl, that was crazy!” he chuckled and shook his head, plopping down on the couch again as Harry turned to the girl raising and eyebrow as he looked down at her. “try to not get yourself involved in any more trouble, at least until I’ve had some fucking coffee. Was sleeping love, bit rude to wake me up for a brawl.”

Y/n laughed a little and pushed his chest, “Hey! I didn’t wake you up, I could have taken him I didn’t need you to jump in.” she put her hands on her hips and gave him a sassy little face, the man laughing in return. “ ‘m sure you could have, babbled last night about how you’re brothers taught you boxing growing up, but if that kid was to try to fight you I’d go down for a murder charge. Me mum taught me to respect women and women beaters aren’t in my good graces. Now you, miss thang need to keep your ass out of problems.”

Harry gave her the stern bossy eyes and she caved, nodding her head and pouting a little as he went into the kitchen and grabbed himself a Gatorade and some crackers nodding his head to the deck door,           “ ‘cmere rocky, need to talk to you.” Harry teased her with the name, getting laughs from everyone including her as she walked out on the deck with him sitting down on one of the couches as he fed himself.

“need to talk to you about last night.” He mumbled through a mouthful of sports drink getting a nod from Y/n as she tried her best to ignore the camera getting a little too close for comfort. “Wanted to ask you about it too, was waiting till you got up..i’m just gonna ask, did we bang?” she twisted her stray hairs around her pointer finger as she asked, slightly nervous for the answer.

Harry shook his head laughing a little bit to himself. “Nope, told you I wasn’t gonna do anything when you were drunk unless I talked to sober you about it first. Plus, love if we would have fucked you would still feel me. wouldn’t have to ask because your trouble walking would answer that question for you sweetheart.” Harry wore a slight smirk on his lips as he said it, watching the younger girl roll her eyes and lick over her lips. “god you’re such a boy.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m a man, a gentlemen actually. Not like the little boys where you’re from, I’m a grown man love and I’m cocky because I know I have the skills to back it up. Maybe you’ll get lucky to experience that yourself sometimes little girl.”

Y/n was a bit in shock. She was turned on, overwhelmed and a little bit offended by his attitude but god if she wasn’t turned on. “Oh my god. I can’t, guys are too much for me right now. I might have to take up Selena’s offer and become a lesbian over summer because you guys are stressing me out!”

Y/n smacked his arm playfully and Harry grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand to his mouth and kissing her knuckled. “Yea, let’s see how long that lasts since last night you were almost In tears any time I broke the kiss to open the damn door. You’ll be knocking at my door by the end of the week guarantee it.”

“Ok mister confidence, shut up.” Y/n covered her face with her hands to hide her smile and growing blush, both of them just talking about the night before until the camera crew left for a while before they were going to go out that night.

“hey Harry?” Y/n stood in his doorway, calling out his name as he rummaged through his suitcase to find whatever he was looking for. “Whatsup love?” he peered at her for a second to let her know he was listening before going back to what he was doing “about what you said, sober me says if neither of us come home with someone we can fool around a bit, you have my permission. Just know I fully plan on bringing someone home tonight and I already called the spare room. I wanna start my summer off with good booze and an orgasm.”

Harry let out a little snort, pulling the brush he was looking for out of his bag and turning to Y/n, “I’ll keep that in mind, good luck with your plans tonight, I hope you get your wish and don’t end up with some dude who doesn’t know where the clit is.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Don’t speak that into existence asshole, if he fails me I’ll just do it the old fashion way.” This got the mans attention and his eyes to meet hers, “Old fashion way?” he rubbed his stubbly chin a bit, moving the brush between his right and left hand, “yea, just masturbate in the shower or whatever. I brought some tools that could lend a helping hand in that. I’ll make do.”

Harry had to stop himself from groaning. His mind flashed with images of her in the shower using toys on herself, biting a wash cloth to keep quiet since everyone’s here. He was able to collect himself after a few seconds and give her a playful smile nodding “sounds like a plan love, now get out of here it’s time to get ready.”

__

The music was blaring and the booze running through Y/n’s system made it ten times better, she was dancing- not caring about anything as she danced on this nice looking guy she met and who she decided she was gonna bring back that night and occupy the spare room she’d already called. He was tall, dark hair, tan just a typical good looking guy and the vodka helped make him look more attractive. She just hoped that he could give her what she so desperately needed. A good fucking.

“ ‘cmon, lets go now so we have extra time before my roommates get back, I wanna play.”

Little else was said between the two as they darted out of the club and back to the shared house, clothes coming off quickly as they got up the steps and now she’s panting, groping her tits while the stranger who she can’t remember the name of is tongue deep in her cunt. He’s average at giving head, but she’s desperate and so horny she doesn’t care.

Her hips rock against his mouth as he brings her right to the edge before stopping, Y/n let out a loud protest at this feeling the coil that was forming in her stomach and about to come undone fade.

“what the hell?!” she was pissed, and between her legs was aching at this point from needing attention. “I’m sorry, mouth got tired and I wanna fuck you now..” the man slipped his shirt off while Y/n laid under him, irritated but hopeful his cock can give her the relief she really needs.

But just her luck, it doesn’t. He lasts 5 minutes before he’s cumming into the condom and panting leaving Y/n angry and horribly deprived, and so she wasted no time in kicking him out and storming into her room, grabbing her black vibrator she had brought and marching to the bathroom turning the shower on getting it nice and arm before she stepped in.

__

Y/n had her head resting against the tile as she sat on the shower floor, legs spread and vibrator rubbing up and down her needy slit while her free hand was plunging 2 fingers in and out of herself. She always loved being fingered, but she wishes her fingers were just a bit longer as she worked herself letting herself be loud since no one else was in the house, but she just couldn’t reach the spot she needed to. It was so close yet so far, and she was so upset she was almost close to tears.

She was in the middle of a fit of cursing everyone in existence when a knock on the bathroom door made her jump, her heart almost burst from surprise and now she was wondering how long she’s been in here since her roommates weren’t coming back till at least 6 am.

“Can I come in? it gotta pee” the voice on the other side of the door asked loudly so she could hear them over the water, and when she realized it was Harry she yelled out an agreement, as soon as he opened the door she peaked her head around from behind the curtain to look at him while still shielding her body.

Harry chuckled a little bit and gave her a funny look, “Can I take a leak in private please?”. Y/n groaned and stomped her foot on the shower floor like a child. “Fine! Please pee and then get in the shower with me, I’m so horny it literally hurts and that guy lasted 5 minutes and I swear to god if I don’t get to cum I’m going to cry please!”

Harry stared at her for a moment, letting her words sink in pushing his hair off his face and shrugging. “what do you want me to do love?” he could see just how desperate she was, eyes close to tears, lip stuck between her teeth and he felt both bad for her but also so fucking turned on.

“Anything, please finger me? play with me? please I need it my fingers aren’t long enough and you said you’d play with me, I’m not even that drunk please Harry.”

Y/n didn’t care about the cameras in the hall that were probably picking up the audio, or how desperate and crazy she sounded, she needed his touch.

“Okay..Okay doll relax, let me do what I need to do and then I’ll join you alright?”

Y/n nodded and moved back behind the curtain, she took her original place sitting on the cool tile floor of spacious shower as he went to the bathroom before stripping down to his boxers and pulling the curtain back seeing the younger girl naked, legs spread a bit giving him a glimpse of how swollen and flushed between her legs was letting him know she was probably a bit too rough on herself when she got frustrated, which only made her problem worse.

Her tits sat perky on her chest, her nipples pebbled with water droplets running down over them before dripping off onto her thighs. Harry let out a low groan at the sight, “Have m’ boxers on just because I’m not gonna fuck ya’ , honestly don’t think I even can because I got whiskey dick right now. Need to lay off the booze so I can take care of you properly next time. Cmon, stand up sweetheart.”

Harry held his hand out to the girl who took it, standing on wobbly legs as he stepped in the shower with her, skin tight black boxers covering his goods which disappointed her a bit but she couldn’t care too much since there was so much else going on.

His big hands ran up and down her back, thumbs digging into the dimples right at the base of her spine as he pulled her closer to him, kissing down her neck, mumbling into her skin about how pretty she is, and promising he’s going to make her feel better.

“Pussy is all swollen doll, gotta be careful. Don’t want you to hurt yourself just ‘cause you get frustrated, that’s no fun…” His voice was deep, slow and made her stomach tense from how it vibrated through her getting a whimper and tug on his wet matted locks.

“Talk to me darling..tell me what you want, tell me what you need baby” his fingers were trailing downward, squeezing her ass and brushing his finger tips on the backs on her thighs. “need you to touch me, please put your fingers in me I need it”

Her voice was pathetic and she knew it, she was needy to the highest capacity and almost let a ‘daddy’ slip through her lips but she managed to bite her tongue just in time. Harry hummed as he brough his right hand around her front, moving it between her thighs and coaxing them open wider while he brushed two digits up and down her slit, mouthing at her neck while he gets a feel for her exterior, taking the vibrator from her hand and setting it down on the rack holding their shampoos and soaps while he tapped the pad of his middle finger against her entrance before sinking it in.

Her reaction was immediate. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, a long relieved moan falling from her plush lips as he slipped a second one in with ease from how eager her body was. “Got t’ give me a minute to find tha’ special spot love, deep breaths don’t need ya’ passing out on me.” Harry was on a mission to find that spongey spot inside her that would have her cumming in no time, and Y/n was practically riding his fingers as she stood in his grip, her body going rigid when he pressed against the spot she needed the most attention on, mumbling a low “found it” as he pressed on it again, rubbing over it as he fucked his fingers in and out of the younger girl who was holding onto him for dear life as he massaged her G-spot with vigor.

“There you go, that’s a good girl Y/n you’re doin’ so good love, know you’re close can cum whenever you feel it. Know you need it baby, let go.”

Y/n could barely hear him as her body started to tingle, everything was muffled and her mind was hyper focused on the pleasure pulsing through her core. She was gearing up for a strong one, she hasn’t had one quite this big since the winter when she had a 4 week dry spell and finally got some action the day after Christmas, she soaked through the poor dudes sheets that night.

Her moans and gasps picked up, frequent bursts of pleasured moans passed her lips as she started to pant her nails digging into his tattooed shoulders while her held her to him so she didn’t fall.

“Doing so well, almost there huh? Almost there…” his fingers moved with purpose and unfaltering speed as he massaged her special spot faster, her legs becoming jelly as she started to cum. She couldn’t help the loud moan that shot out of her throat, Harry quickly grabbing the wash cloth and stuffing it in her mouth since he knew Ryan was here. He cooed in the girls ear, talking to her the entire time she was cumming feeling her cunt squeezing his digits while her own juices dribbled down his wrist.

She was dizzy, tired, spent and completely drained. She finally got what she needed and was now dead weight clinging to Harry who peppered her face with kisses as he withdrew his hand from her cunt rinsing her off down there and kissing her lips a few times.

“That was fucking amazing… god Harry you’re gonna make me fall in love with you with fingers like those…”

He only chuckled at her dazed comment before shutting the water off, wrapping the girl in a towel and sitting her down on the counter

“Lucky for you, you have all summer to do so, I might just be up for it too.”

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

ellie live watches the night manager

alright so im like halfway through the first episode and um............ i think “im getting ripped tonight” has taken a completely different meaning

i mean i guess check for a pulse but uh.....hmm

also, as a note, fuck hamid (for the time being), as well as roper, they can kiss my fat black ass

damn.....thats kinda tough

i SHOULD NOT be laughing

A BURGLAR

bestie that shit was PERSONAL

a burglar doesnt just m*rder and go on

this was targeted

do you work for him sir

roll the footage

damn four years, thats a big ass time skip

fortitude???

imagine vladek just pops up out of nowhere

ah so it’s a theme

side note, my ass is NOT, i repeat, is NOT gonna me working the damn night shift. i’ve had my door closed when i sleep for the past week bc of a horror series i watched. im too chicken for this shit.

the creeps come out at night, and i dont need them to find me

good night sir

ooh shit-

catch me about to poison roper’s drink/hj

hello ma’am, you look rude

i take it back

MIAMIIIII

ITS MIAMI YALLLLLLL

AYYYYYYY TOM HOLLANDER (yes i had to look at the x-ray to figure out his name) i immediately went “i dub thee miami”

*flips limp wrist*

this place looks fabulous by the way

real cute

OH SHEEEIT-

its the ghost of christmas past-

i swear this dude has some form of PTSD, either from being in the military, or seeing a LITERAL DEAD BODY

dont be peepin’ ewwwww

side note, this is why i always crouch when i bend over

laing born-

my beloved, neato

it’s headmaster groff

see i feel like im invading her privacy

i just met you ma’am, i dont wanna see ur tits

she’s flexible, i’ll give her that

i still hate roper

GODDAMN IT

emetophobia warning dear lord

he was either gonna have a panic attack or vomit, so that’s fair i guess

side note, i love his handwriting

hey alfred :) pls dont be a villain

if you dont clean the trash as is, thats kinda nasty

but he can clean up after himself, he’s a full grown fucking man

i forgot i have a robe-

i couldnt stay up all night like that

says me, the hypocrite, currently writing this at 4:04AM

im not about to be swimming in no hotel pool water with my c00chie exposed to the elements

i know it’s cold too, sheeit

I THOUGHT THOSE WERE TEETH-

well thats why he told him to take the trash out early too, that makes sense

ooh microchips

i dont trust them

i want to ride a train one day

thats a cute little place

another side note, i’ve started growing my nails out again, so im losing my “typing shit on the phone” abilities

oh i hope she’s alive

see ppl kissing me on both sides of my cheek sometimes take me by surprise lol

im fine with it, but like.........kinda warn me bestie

now one thing you not gon’ do....MIAMI, is whistle at me like a dog to get my attention, i hate that shit.

god i know smoking is bad for you, but i’ll be damned if he doesnt make it look seggsy. the ACT of smoking that is, i dont need, nor WANT the lung cancer.

i reallly dont like mr. roper

YAYYYY she’s alive

these visuals are fucking AMAZING, let me tell you

yeah, i do just so happen to be a chicken with these things. i’d try my best to do what’s right, i guess.

(also, hi yes, ur local trash goblin is anti-cop and anti-military (in some senses) so i can relate to this in a way.

[voidselfshipp]

The Runaway

Cw: none, ask to tag

Ok to rb

Chapter finale bitch!

Jerico woke up with the wind tapping at her window, its early morning.

She sits on the bed, turning to see her loving husband completly passed out.

She giggles caressing his side, and pressing a kiss to his warm cheek.

Going to take a bath she then changed clothes and grabbed a black parasol heading for the village with waffle behind her.

It was cloudy, the night before it snowed so the homes were adorned with white.

She Walked around the market, grabbing some things she thinks Lucas would like.

Suddenly waffle barks and runs to an older Man.

He looked so familiar.

Walking up to him, he picks her dog up, talking to her in a familiar accent -- ah hello waffle! No time no see!

--well color me impressed, nikolai?

The Man looks up to jerico, with a warm smile-- oh look at you, all grown up now

Jerico giggled, grabbing waffle-- what are you doing here?

-- I live here of course, and what are you doing here?

Jer shrugged-- well you remember that the dimitrescu family adopted me, so this is my home too

Niko nodds-- da, I remember, well its starting to get cold, let me invite you for a warm drink at my place? Just for old times sake?

She nodds-- id love to but I gitta be home by midday, I hav some stuff to do

He nodds and both walk to his home, the cozy ambient Provided much needed warmth.

Once they had a warm drink they sat on the couch with the TV going off in the background.

-- what did you get in the market?--nikolai asked.

Jer shrugged-- just some stuff I think my husband would like

The world stopped for nikolai right then and there-- h husband?

She nodds-- oh I havent told you did I? I got married!

He smiled with pain behind it-- ah congratulations, hes very lucky to have you

--hey before I leave though, can I ask you a question?

-- uh yeah

-- why you left our home, when we "broke up" ?just the night before we had an amazing date and then boom, never to be seen again

He sighed-- I used to be a mercenary, things got dangerous and I didnt want you to suffer, im so sorry, I was such a fool

She sighed patting his arm-- I dont hold any grudge towards you, dont worry --He sighed in relief-- well I gotta go, I wanna get these things to Lucas before he wakes fool

Waffle runs to her owner and both say their goodbyes.

She arrives home just in time to see Lucas wake up.

-- morning handsome -- jerico said caressing his side-- breakfast is ready

Lucas smiles sitting up finding the tray with coffee, Bacon and eggs some centimiters away.

--Ya pamper me too much-- he said putting the tray on his lap, waffle just besides him and jerico snuggled up to him, Like a child between her parents.

Jer leans against Lucas shoulder as he eats, handing waffle a piece of a....waffle.

-- she can eat that?

-- shes a genetically engenireed dog of course she can--he added.

She raised her brows with a smile-- okay okay fine--Both giggle and kiss-- you should brush your teeth after this okay? You have bad morning breath

He laughs kissing her cheek-- okay

That same night, they had unexpected visitors, the long and big dinner room was perfectly decorated, there were some extra plates, wich jer didnt notice much.

--jerico!-- she freezes at the sound of a familiar voice.

She turns around to find her old four lovers at the door of the dinning room

--jill?! Carlos?! What are you guys doing here?

Lady dimitrescu walks up behind her-- I invited them over, since today its your fourth anniversary with Lucas

She knew her mom didnt do this on purpose, but she couldnt let it slide today.

While eating jer was deadly silent.

Lucas,who sitting Infront of her, took her hand-- are you okay? Youre too quiet

-- well, having to eat dinner with your exes is kinda tough

He nodds squeezing her hand-- you can concentrate on me, its just for Tonight

She nodds and finally smiles-- youre the best husband ever, did I told you that?

He smiles-- all the time hun

Jericos exes smile at the scene, yet a part of them also hurted, how did they let slide someone as wonderfull as her?

Theyd stay the night,and a couple of days more, as they all chattered,except jerico who went to walk with her dog Carlos spoke up.

-- you are one lucky Man, you know that? -- he said drinking from his glas-- everyone of us let her slide, some more than others -- he looked a nikolai who insulted him in russian.

-- well, you guys gave me a tough road-- Lucas said-- Man,she was devastated, she cried Rivers upon rivers-- he noticed the pained expressions of the people around him-- but uhh... we solved it,shes happy now wich is what matters

They nodd-- amen

That night, jerico was soundly asleep, its maybe four am, she wakes up, her throat dry.

Being careful not to wake up Lucas or waffle she opens the door, just like her sisters, jerico could turn into a cloud of insects, and that she did, floating to the kitchen where she transformed into a human again.

With a glass of water in hand she drank from it hearing ball music play in the Background.

Walking to the ballroom she peeks her head into the room, her mom always liked dancing at late hours of the night.

--Mind if I ask you for a dance?-- jill scared the crap out of jer.

-- JESUS! You scared me jill!-- she sighed, to then smile-- yeah of course

Alcina smiled watching her daughter dance,she taught her well.

They moved gracefully across the floor.

When the song ended jill pulled jerico closer.

-- nice dance,partner-- they heard Kevin say in the distance

-- ah thanks-- jerico fixed her clothes-- as much as id like to dance all night, I gotta go, Lucas has to wake up early and im the only one that can get him out of bed, by yall!

She bolted to her room, throwing herself into her bed, Rolling on her side to hug Lucas.

The Next morning jerico heard a soft knock on her door,Jill enters with her breakfast-- hey, hey jer wake up

Jer yawns sitting on the bed-- oh..thanks jill--she sits up looking at the food.

-- whats wrong?

--nothing it just reminds me of when we were togheter

Valentine sighs-- I never apologized did I? Im so sorry , I shouldnt have left you for work, I realized it too late..

Jer hugged her -- its okay, I dont hold it against you

She smiles,--mind if I Keep you company?

-- not at all

During the afternoon, Carlos and her played football on the courtyard--like old times right!

Jer laughs-- this time im kicking your ass Carlos!

--id like to see that!

Both spend an hour or so,then Kevin gaver her a ride to the market since her own Motorcycle was broken.

When she hugged him,the old feelings came back.

-- remember when we used to go and ride around the city? We used to do that all the time!-- kev said.

Jerico laughed-- yeah we did! It was so fun!.

And at night she spend it Reading with nikolai.

The old feelings came back, and she told Lucas this.

-- im not trying to say that you arent enough-- shes been on a tangent for two minutes now.

Her husband kisses her-- jerico calm down, I know what youre trying to say, all I wanna know is, would you be happier if they are with you too? --She nodds hiding her face on his chest-- then so be it, I just want you to be happy remember? I promised you that when I asked you to be my girlfriend..

Jericos now exes were stoked, theyd take her back in a heartbeat.

And Lucas found himself making Friends with them too, specially nikolai who was just as much of an evil genius as he was.

Jill always scolded them both, Kevin joined their misadventures from time to time.

And Carlos was the only one making sure Lady dimitrescu didnt throw them all out.

Things were bound to get interesting and even with the possible Shenanigans that were sure to ensure, jerico wouldnt have it any other way.

[writerbee-ffs]

Playing Ground

Single mom drabble! Haven’t seen Erik x single mom reader soooo I jotted something down. I’m a single mom sooo why tf not 🤷🏾‍♀️

Reader is over protective (she has a damn attitude) but we all know don’t shit stop Erik unless .....

“Look Mommy! I’m really high!” Zeke yelled from the swing as (Y/N) smiled at her 4 year old over hearing other kids amp her son’s swinging skills up.

“Yes you are baby but please be careful.” She’d called out attempting to relax on a nearby bench as Zeke continued to test his limits. “We don’t want any booboos, right?!”

On the other side stood Erik with his Cane Corso puppy, Killa, at the dog park. The familiar stranger’s voice had caught his attention again like it did every weekday. He’d been watching her everyday for the past seven months unsure how to approach her. Erik wasn’t the shy type by any means but he’d never approached her type. A single mother. A real mother. Yeah Erik had fucked around with bitches that had kids but never ones that actually had their kids on a consistent basis. Looking at her he figured she was a single mom since there was never a man around her when she brought her son to the park nor a ring resting on her finger.

“Zeke! It’s time to go!” (Y/N) shouted gathering his schoolbag and her work items. “Mommy has to get you to grandma’s so she can go to work.” Instantly Zeke stopped in his tracks. He hated the word work, it was like a trigger for him. Looking up at (Y/N), Zeke’s bottom lip turned out into a full pout before his little legs took off away from the playground. “ZEKE!” (Y/N) scrambled behind him. This was an everyday thing when she needed to get him to her mom’s house.

“No Mommy!” Zeke’s voice could be heard as (Y/N) tried to keep up with him. “I don’t want G-” “Oouch!” The loud thud worried (Y/N) as she dropped her things rushing to her son.

“Down Killa!” Erik’s smooth velvet voice commanded the large dog. “He doesn’t want to play baby girl.” He’d taken Killa’s leash and moved her away from the little boy so he get himself off the ground. “You okay lil m-“

“Zeke, are you okay? Are you hurt? What did I tell you about running away from me?” (Y/N) concern had completely drowned out Erik’s tone.

“Dog is so HUGE!” Zeke laughed uncontrollably. “Mommy can we have a dog?’ He asked walking up to it.

“Zeke get away from it!” (Y/N) snapped completely frustrated.

“She’s just a puppy. She’s friendly.” Erik assured as he helped her gather her items off the ground. “Ain’t that right baby girl.” Erik’s baby voice took place praising Killa.

“That’s not the point...” (Y/N) snapped snatching her work agenda away from his hands. “A child shouldn’t just walk up to random dogs and think they’re all friendly- Zeke come here.” (Y/N) was beyond annoyed by her son’s behavior. She was ready to leave since she definitely felt like she was going to be late for work.

“My bad princess.” Erik licked his lips watching (Y/N) push the stray curls away from her face. He could tell she was pissed with the whole situation. “That makes sense.” Erik held Killa’s leash away from her and her son respecting her wishes. “What’s yah name?” “I’ve seen you around here with lil man.”

Looking Erik up and down, she rolled her eyes taking in a breath. “Im not doing this.” (Y/N) mumbled intertwining her fingers with Zeke’s. “Thanks for the help though.” She quickly walked out of the park towards the lot to find her SUV.

“Yo, hold up.” Erik’s commanding voice made (Y/N) feet slow her pace and bite the corner of her lip.

“May I help you?” (Y/N) questioned not bothering to turn around but instead placing Zeke and the belongings in her white Audi SUV.

“Yeah.” Erik didn’t mind the view of her plump ass filling out the mint green scrubs. If she was one of his regular hoes, he would have grabbed it right then. “I’m Erik.” He licked his lips getting closer to Zoe cornering her from the back against her truck. “Like I said I’ve seen you around here and wanted to know what was up with you?”

Four years ago Erik’s gold fangs glistening as he spoke and brown skin would have made (Y/N)’s teeth draw blood from her bottom lip and her pussy purr but unfortunately that wasn’t the case in the present day.

“What’s up with me?” Her face contorted as she looked at Erik finally in those dark brown eyes pushing him away from her personal bubble. Yeah he was fine as fuck but she could smell the hoe nigga antics pulsing threw him. “I’m busying being a grown ass women and mom” -the kiss of his teeth made her livid “How about next time you see me don’t say anything.” The snap in her voice sent Killa into full attack mood. The sound of the growling scared the shit out of (Y/N) and made Erik’s deep thunderous laugh roll through the whole park.

“Chill Killa her bougie ass ain’t worth the shit.” He called as he walked away leaving her stunned in the parking lot.

[saibh29]

Mother and Daughter

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, Implied family issues

AN: Ok this one I enjoyed... immensely... 

Your mother is in town for a few days, which means your boyfriend is suspiciously absent

*****

Your mum was coming to the city, it was a biannual visit that she made under sufferance simply to say that it wasn’t always her commanding you to come home. She liked to sit on the high ground of moral vindication.

You loved your mum, you actually had a decent relationship now you’d grown up, moved away and didn’t have to live with her anymore. These visits though, even though they only lasted for a few days, tended to be painful for everyone involved. Your mum did not like the city, she didn’t like crowds of people, traffic, noise or the small bedrooms you had in your tiny apartment. She missed her own kitchen, fancy coffee machine, Women’s meetings and town gossip sessions.

You’d taken the morning off work to wait for her to arrive and had already set up the bed for her in the spare room. You’d also removed any trace of your boyfriend from the apartment. Kelly was allergic to parents and in the case of your mother you didn’t really blame him. Your mum was also allergic to men, after the mess your dad had made of their relationship you didn’t really blame her either. So, by silent agreement neither of them met, ever. Not in the context of ‘mother of your girlfriend’ anyhow.

You’d been sat on the window seat so saw the taxi pull up outside your block and your mother emerge, commanding the poor uber driver to remove her bags from the cab. How one woman needed practically a suitcase a day you’d never figured out, especially as her daughter, you, managed to travel for weeks with only a rucksack you’d had since high school.

Starting to assemble the requisite smile on your face you went down to help her with the pile of luggage.

“Mum”

She turned and caught sight of you enveloping you in a huge hug, your mother always smelt vaguely like fresh cookies and vanilla, it flashed you back to sitting in the kitchen of your childhood home nibbling on said cookies while in the living room your mum and dad screamed at each other.

“Y/N, darling” she held you slightly away from her eyes taking you all in. “You look skinny, have you been eating? I brought plenty of casserole and stews, you can put it in the freezer”

“Mum, you always say I look skinny, and how did you get TSA to let you on your flight with a load of frozen food”

“Hmmm” That was your mothers all purpose noise, mainly meaning the subject was closed and she wasn’t going to tell you anything more. Picking up the many bags you helped her carry them up to your apartment, dumping them in the kitchen. “Put that food in the freezer darling”

“hmmm” you copied your mums previous sound but did as you were told. It was more trouble than it was worth to try and disobey her.

Your mum was still stood in the middle of your apartment. “This place seems smaller every time I arrive”

“I promise you its not” how did the woman do it, in one sentence you were desperately trying to remind yourself that murder was not a good idea. “I have to go to the firehouse. I was just waiting for you to arrive” your mum was still staring around the room. “Maybe you want to rest?”

“Rest?” she finally gave you her attention again. “Oh, I'm quite rested. Maybe I’ll come to the station with you, I haven’t been there for quite some time”

Crap. That was what you’d been wanting to avoid. Trying to dissuade her though would only make her more determined to come with you.

“Fine”

“I'm sure the boys would appreciate some warm food”

“mum…” you whined but she was no longer listening, she’d gone to your fridge and was tutting in dismay at the offerings inside.

“We’ll stop by the market on the way”

“Ok” grabbing your bag you hustled her back out of your apartment and down to your car. It was going to be a very long day.

**

The guys as you’d guessed had been delighted to see your mother entering the station with you following behind, arms piled high with groceries. They’d swarmed your mum leading her into the station with smiles and hugs.

“Yeah don’t worry about me!” you snapped trying not to trip over your feet. “I'm fine”

The guys ignored you completely still fawning over your mum. Someone did come up from behind you though and the top two bags were removed from your arms leaving you with only one.

“I see she arrived”

“It’s been 2 hours Kelly, 2 hours and I want to kill either her or myself, I haven’t decided which yet”

“That bad?”

“She called me skinny! Mocked my fridge, apartment and now she’s here… my mother is here, where I work”

“Sounds terrible”

“Just don’t” you warned as he didn’t look all that sympathetic.

“Hey! Y/N get moving with those groceries your mum’s gonna cook”

Your eyes narrowed as you focused on Herrmann who was hanging out of the door to the mess room. You were about to say something scathing and generally unkind when Kelly cut in.

“Coming” he nudged you forwards. “Aren’t we?”

“Yeah sure… we’re coming” you went into the mess dumping the groceries onto the counters where you mum was already rooting around in cupboards bringing out varying pans and equipment.

“Your mum’s going to cook” Otis sounded almost dreamy as he leant beside you on the bench “real food Y/N”

“I heard”

“darling will you peel the veg for me please” you mum didn’t wait for an answer just pushed the peeler into your hands along with a bowl of washed vegetables. “and clean strokes Y/N, don’t attack it like a rabid dog”

“Sure” you got the word out around gritted teeth and snatched a carrot from the bowl. Obviously you were attacking it because soon after your mum grabbed the carrot snatching it from your hands in horror.

“Y/N”

“You said peel it”

“Yes peel, not chunk. Honestly”

Alright, that was it, you were done. Almost hurling the peeler back to the counter, you spun on your heel and stormed out of the mess room.

You’d gone to the locker rooms, sat on the bench in front of the lockers therapeutically letting your feet swing into the metal with a satisfying thump.

“Babe?” Kelly came carefully into the locker room, sitting down beside you his arm going around your shoulders. “what’s going on?”

“I can’t deal with her being here Kelly” you let your boots kick once a lot harder into the lockers. “Mum needs to be at home in that sphere and my life, you, my apartment everything else needs to be separate”

“I think most people feel like that about their parents”

“Helpful, Kelly. Very fucking helpful”

“Hey” he used his spare hand to take hold of your chin forcing your face around to look at him. “She isn’t here for long and in the meantime, she’s your mother.”

“So what, deal?”

“Yeah babe, you deal”

“What good advice Kelly”

You both jumped apart like guilty teenagers at your mums voice coming from the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she looked between the two of you. You’d never seen Kelly move so fast as he did then, lurching off the bench and going for the door. Your mum didn’t move though blocking his exit.

“Kelly Severide, sit down”

“I um… but…”

“Sit”

“Yes Ma’am” Kelly came back to sit beside you as your mum finally moved from the doorway to stand in front of the two of you.

“Y/N, you may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child. I'm sorry if that upsets you, I am never going to stop being your mother though and this is simply how I am”

“It doesn’t upset me” you felt like an ungrateful ass now. You knew your mum hated the city and yet still she came, still she wanted to see you. “I'm happy you’re here”

“Good, now…” she trailed off staring at the two of you.

“Mum?”

“This needs to stop”

“What?”

“Me pretending I don’t know about you two and you” she turned narrowed eyes on Kelly. “Is my daughter somehow not good enough for you to admit to dating?”

Kelly coughed and squirmed uncomfortably, looking at you for obvious rescue, you just shrugged though. “Don’t look at me, I can’t help”

“No Ma’am of course not”

“Do you love her?” your mum continued; she could be relentless when she was focused onto something. When Kelly remained silent, her hands went to her hips. “Well?”

“Yes alright” Kelly jumped to his feet. “Yes! I love her, I love your daughter”

“Well good” your mum then turned her interrogation to you even though you were fairly in shock from Kelly’s sudden declaration of love. “and you Y/N, why did you think you had to hide this from me?”

“I… um…” Kelly sat back down and took your hand in his own linking your fingers together. It gave you the strength to keep talking. “When dad left, you broke Mum. Ever since then you’ve had this vendetta against men. I didn’t want to hurt you”

Your mum stayed quiet for a minute before reaching out and pulling you to your feet severing your connection to Kelly. She wrapped her arms around you. “You don’t have to protect me sweetheart. I'm your mum. I want you to be happy, it’s all I’ve ever wanted” She kissed your cheek “Now, I have some food to cook” and with a final look at both of you she left the locker room.

Turning around so you could lean against the lockers you caught Kelly’s eye. “Hell of a way to tell me you love me?”

He shrugged standing up and catching hold of your waist, he pulled you off the lockers and into his chest instead. “the truth is the truth”

“I love you too”

Kelly’s lips claimed your own in a kiss that made everything but him flee your mind.

“Now, come on. I want to see what kind of food I can scrounge”

Laughing at that you let him take your hand and pull you out of the locker room again.  

 *****

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