#please tell ne its not cause i always makes thing this fast

[kuro8566]

I did an other screenshot redraw but human,

This time its ANGST!!!!

Here is some donnie angst (from the movie)

(Don't know why I'm doing so much donnie, my favorite is leo??????? Eh I'm just following where my mind wants to go)

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Have I Been Bad, Officer?

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Handcuffs Oneshot

Nesta surprises Cassian for a little Anniversary fun. Turns out, real handcuffs work better than sex-shop knock-offs.

Written for Nessian Month @illyrianet

Prompt: Handcuffs

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Police/Handcuffs

4102 words

*******

Cassian watched as another car approached his police cruiser, spotted it, and abruptly slowed down to pass him. Even pulled off on the shoulder of the road, the logo of Velaris PD stood out on the side of the car.

He rolled his eyes. Normally he would have cared more, but that was the only car he’d seen in the last ten minutes and he was already in a bad mood; he decided it was best for everyone if he didn’t take his frustration out on whatever poor driver had the bad luck of getting his attention.

He shouldn’t be sitting in his patrol car waiting to pull people over for speeding. He should be at home with his beautiful, devious wife, celebrating their anniversary.

Cassian had made a point to ask for the day off. The next two days off, actually. He wasn’t going to rush any of their anniversary plans. But then an officer called in sick, and another had a family emergency, and suddenly Cassian was being dragged into work because a personal day took less preference, unfortunately.

Nesta understood. At first, she’d threatened to go down to the precinct and tell his chief exactly what she thought about the decision, but Cassian convinced her that if she did that then he’d be fired and would consequently have every day off. It sounded good until he reminded both of them that being fired means he wouldn’t be making money, and it turns out you need money to live.

And although Nesta understood, she certainly wasn’t making it easy on him. Every fifteen minutes his phone chimed with a new message from her.

At first, it was just an ‘I love you’, and ‘Happy Anniversary’, but that soon turned into her explaining all things she was going to do to him when he got home.

And all the things she wanted him to do to her.

Then the pictures started.

Each new picture showed Nesta in a different outfit. A few were of her in different lingerie sets, a couple of them, Cassian noted excitedly, were ones he hadn’t seen before.

Another picture was of her in just his shirt, kneeling on the ground, back arched with her nipples pressing through the fabric.

The latest one was of Nesta in nothing but his uniform’s hat, and bright red lipstick.

Groaning loudly, Cassian rubbed his hands over his face. He willed his cock to calm down and counted down the seconds until he could get home and follow through with some of the requests she made.

The next twenty minutes passed without any more cars driving by and without any more of Nesta’s texts. Good, he thought, she was done torturing him when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Cassian noticed a set of headlights approaching in the distance. Still mostly hidden from view, he watched as the car sped past him. Speeding. He rolled his eyes and watched for more cars.

He didn’t have to wait long. A minute later a car sped by him going the other direction. Cassian sat up at full attention; it was the same car, but this time it was driving even faster.

He watched as the car took the next exit, turned around, and drove back towards him.

Confused, Cassian waited until it was almost to him and then he turned on his lights and sirens and pulled out into the road behind the strange car.

Almost immediately, the driver slowed and pulled off onto the road’s shoulder.

In the shine of his headlights, Cassian could easily read the license plate of the familiar-looking car he stopped. He recognized it as easily as he knew his own.

It was Nesta’s car.

And she had driven by more than once to get his attention. Chuckling to himself, Cassian slowly got out of his cruiser and strutted over to her driver’s side window.

He shined his flashlight in her face, careful not to blind her with the harsh light, and smirked broadly as he leaned his elbows against the open window. Her hair was loose in waves down her back—his favorite look on her—, she wore a long coat with a belt tied around her waist and the top two buttons open allowing him a peek of her cleavage when she leaned closer. She also had on bright red lipstick that Cassian couldn’t wait to attempt to ruin; Nesta had long since started buying smudge-proof lipstick, but Cassian always like to test the limits of her makeup.

He didn’t say anything at first, instead, waiting for her to explain what she was doing. But she just blinked up at him innocently and smiled with her blood-red lips.

She was up to something, but Cassian thought he was going to enjoy whatever she had planned, so he played along.

“Are you aware that you were speeding, miss?” Cassian asked in his best authoritative voice. He had perfected a lot of voices when it came to Nesta. The soft voice he used when she was reading and he didn’t want to disturb her; the charming, cocky voice he used when flirting with her; the rough, low voice he used whenever he wanted to make her particularly wet; but this one, his ‘cop-voice’ was one she loved to hear when he was in control.

Her smile slowly morphed into a smirk.

“I absolutely was speeding,” she paused and leaned forward, the neck of her jacket opened further and Cassian could see the swells of her breasts as she said in a low voice, “Officer.”

He suppressed a groan. She knew what that did to him. And if the satisfied look in her eyes was any indication, his own had turned dark and hungry at her tone.

If this is how she wanted to play, he would gladly oblige her.

“You were driving real fast. Very dangerous.” Cassian’s eyes remained locked with hers. “I’m not sure if I can let you go with just a warning. You seemed pretty determined to catch my attention.” Cassian’s smirk grew.

“Are you going to write me up? Give me a ticket?” Her gaze dropped to where his notepad was stuffed into his belt and slowly raked her eyes back up to his. “Have I been bad, Officer?”

Fuck. He chuckled wickedly and made a show of looking around the dark, empty road. He hadn’t seen another car pass by for a while and he doubted there would be anyone for a while.

“Nes, sweetheart.” This time, when he leaned down his gaze lingered on her open collar. “I’m not going to give you a ticket.”

Nesta’s smile turned feline, and Cassian felt like he’d walked right into her snare.

“Then I guess,” her voice dropped low and she looked up at him through her eyelashes, “you’ll have to punish me some other way, Officer.”

This time, Cassian didn’t muffle his groan of approval. He pushed himself off the car door and shot her a broad grin before schooling his features into a stern, disapproving mask.

“I’m gonna need you to step out of the car.”

Still smirking, Nesta slowly opened the door. As she brought one leg out and then the other, setting them on the pavement, Cassian noticed that her coat exposed her bare thigh and he wondered what exactly she was wearing underneath. Or not wearing if he knew Nesta—and he prided himself in knowing Nesta.

She stood up and shut the door.

Cassian took a moment to look her up and down. He took in her long tousled hair, red lips, trench coat—he realized now­—and the pair of black patent leather stilettos. He didn’t hide his desire; he knew his face must look ravenous, and he could feel where his pants were stretched tightly, showing her the shape of his hard cock.

A slow smirk spread across his face.

He motioned for her to walk around to the other side of her car. The side farther away from the road and the scarce light.

“Turn around.” He ordered.

She turned, pressing her front into the car’s frame, waiting until the last second to tear her eyes from his. He stepped closer to her until he was almost pressed against her and pulled her hair away from her ear to say, “I need to pat you down. Gotta make sure you don’t have anything dangerous on you.”

She shivered as his breath hit the arch of her ear.

His hands rested on her shoulders before slowly trailing down her arms.

“No knives,” His hands came back up and then tracked down her back, running a finger along the curve of her spine.

“No guns.” His fingers gripped her waist and in a quick motion, pulled her hips flush against his so she could feel exactly how turned on he was by her little game. He felt her ass rub up against his erection and held in a groan.

“No pepper spray.” He used one foot to kick her legs apart. One hand pressed on her upper back, making her lean further into the car. With her ass pushed out and feet spread apart, he gave her round backside a quick slap that caused her to gasp in surprise and gripped her hips to hold her in place.

“Don’t move,” Cassian commanded gruffly and he thought he heard a soft moan escape Nesta’s lips.

He pressed his body into hers, keeping her in place while he moved one hand to her hip as the other snaked its way around to grip her throat. Not too constricting, but just enough that she knew who was in charge

“What was that you said about punishing you?” Cassian’s hand on her hip moved down across her ass and then lower, taunting her with his touch. When she didn’t answer, just let out another low moan, he tightened his grip on her throat and cupped her through her panties.

Or, he would have if she’d been wearing any.

He moaned at the feeling of her warm, slick cunt against his fingers. Nesta’s words were cut off by a strangled gasp.

“Punish me.” She urged and tried to force her hips backward as he slowly moved his fingers along her slit, coating them in her wetness, before moving them up to circle her clit.

He hummed, considering. “You want me to punish you? I know you do, you’re so wet for me already,” he spoke into her ear, reveling in the sounds he was pulling from her.

“More, please,” Nesta gasped as his finger ghosted over her opening. “I’ve been bad, Officer.”

“You have.” He agreed and shoved two fingers into her soaking pussy.

She moaned loudly and splayed her hands across the top of the car trying to get a grip as he thrust into her relentlessly. His hand around her throat moved to reach into her coat and grasp one of her breasts.

Gods, she wasn’t wearing anything under her jacket.

He pulled his fingers all the way out, loving the whimper she made at the loss of sensation, only to add a third and resume his thrusts.

She moaned even louder as the hand at her breast rolled her nipple between his fingers and tweaked it harshly.

“Cass, please.” She begged. He loved it when she begged.

He grunted and pulled his fingers from her. Before she could protest, he spun her around so that her back was leaning against the car and she was staring at him with hooded eyes, breasts heaving as she breathed heavily.

He held her gaze as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked every last drop of her arousal from them.

“Was that my punishment?” Nesta panted, frustrated that he didn’t make her finish.

Cassian stepped up to her and raised a brow.

“If you think that was your punishment, then you’ve got another thing coming, sweetheart.” He winked and leaned down as if to kiss her, but ducked his head at the last second to attach his mouth to her neck, sucking small bruises along her collar bone and throat.

Nesta reached down and untied the belt holding her jacket together. With a few quick movements, she had it open, off her body, and flung to the ground several feet away from them. Now she was leaning against the car wearing nothing but her heels.

“Then finish the job, Officer.”

With a growl, he gripped her face and kissed her fiercely. It wasn’t tender or loving—those kisses were for later. This was hungry, ravenous, filled with uncontrolled desire.

It was teeth and tongues clashing, claiming the other as best they could.

He broke away and smirked again.

“With pleasure.”

Then he dropped to his knees and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder. From his position, he noticed the underside of her stilettos was a bright red that matched her lips. He ran his hands up either side of her legs and watched Nesta shudder with anticipation before dipping his head between her thighs.

The sound of her moan and her head falling back to land on the car were almost as delicious as the taste of her on his tongue.

Cassian was relentless. He savored her taste and her moans as he devoured her. He knew exactly what she liked and she was already so close to the edge from the way his fingers had fucked her moments before.

Her moans grew louder and she fisted one hand in his hair, keeping him close. If he could, he would laugh; if she thought he would willingly abandon her soaking pussy right now she was insane. He would finish what he started, and then he’d make her beg for more

His tongue moved from where it was spearing into her to circle and suck her clit. He used two of his fingers to replace where his tongue had been inside her and curled them just right.

“Cassian!” Nesta’s head flew back and she shuddered as release barreled through her. The hands in his hair became almost unbearable tight, but he continued to eat her out slowly as she came down from her high.

When he was sure she’d ridden out the last wave, he stood up and held her gaze as he licked his lips. Her smoldering, lustful gaze heated further and she grabbed the back of his neck to pull him against her. Nesta tasted herself on Cassian’s lips and moaned.

She kissed down his jawline. She was so turned on knowing she was completely naked and he was still fully dressed.

Cassian grabbed her and reached for something on his belt, but she was too distracted to notice what it was. His hands ran down her arms and the next thing she knew, her own hands were behind her back and cold metal encircled them.

She broke the kiss to see his satisfied face. Raising an eyebrow she tested the stretch of the handcuffs he’d put on her.

“These are strong.” She commented on them, smirking, trying to pull her wrists apart.

Cassian flipped them around so he was now against the car. “They’re the real deal, baby.” Then he chuckled and unbuckled his belt.

Nesta watched hungrily as his fingers unbuttoned his pants and Cassian’s hard cock sprung free, desperate for attention.

He stroked himself a few times, loving the way her eyes were glued to his moving hand. “Now be a good girl and get on your knees.”

Nesta kicked off her heels and lowered herself to the ground, all the while looking at Cassian from beneath her eyelashes.

“Now what, Officer?” She goaded him innocently.

“Now show me what that smart mouth of yours can do.” He ran a hand through her hair before fisting it and bringing her face closer to his rock-hard cock. “And maybe it’ll make up for the way you behaved.”

She gave him one last smirk before leaning forwards and taking the tip of him into her mouth. He moaned at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth wrapped around him.

She sucked lightly, swirling her tongue over the slit. Cassian hissed a sharp breath and tightened his grip in her hair. She looked up at him as she started bobbing her head up and down.

“That’s it,” He groaned again as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked deeply. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Then she pushed forward until her nose hit his pelvis and Cassian let out a loud groan.

She pulled away once to take a breath and then he was pushing her back down, using his grip in her hair to move her head up and down. She gagged as the tip of him hit the back of her throat but Cassian kept her head moving.

“Fuck.” He choked out, “ You’re perfect. Your tight little throat takes me so well. Can’t wait to fuck your dripping pussy.” He met her watering eyes and felt the moan she released at his words vibrate around his cock. “Look at you, on your knees, hands cuffed behind your back, ugh, Nes—”

The vibrations of her moans combined and the feeling of his tip brushing the back of her throat sent him over the edge. He went rigged and loosened his grip on her hair as he released down her throat. She took all of him, swallowing every last drop. Nesta leaned back on her heels and slowly released him with an audible pop.

He helped her get to her feet so she wouldn’t lose her balance since her hands were still locked behind her back, and swiped his thumb over her red, swollen lip.

He dragged her towards him for a bruising kiss.

“Gods, I love you.” He groaned against her mouth.

She pulled away to smile, “I love you too. Now take off your shirt.”

Cassian threw his head back and laughed but obeyed.

Once his own clothes were on the ground with hers, he opened the door to the back seat of her car and nudged her towards it.

She raised a brow at him and gestured with her still-bound hands. “Are these staying on?”

He stepped into her space and kissed her neck, sucking on the spot between her shoulder and neck that had her whimpering. “Do you want them to stay on?”

Nesta had a hard time responding once he moved to the seat behind her ear. “Yes,” She gasped, her head falling back. “Yes.”

She felt him smirk against her skin.

“Then they stay on,” Cassian commanded roughly.

She sent him another sultry smile. “Whatever you say, Officer.”

Cassian pulled Nesta as close he could get her with her hands cuffed behind her back; her back against his hard chest. One of his large hands wrapped around her throat and the other started rubbing soft circles over her clit. Nesta’s head fell back against his shoulder.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” His voice was rough. “You’ve been driving me crazy with your texts and those fucking pictures. When we get home I want you to show me all those new sets of lingerie.” He nipped at her ear, his fingers moving a little faster. “But maybe you should start with your least favorite because I think I’ll just rip it off you.”

She groaned as he eased one finger inside her. “Oh yeah, you’re ready.”

He removed his finger and bent her over. Her face was pushed into the leather cushion with her knees spread resting on the seat, ass in the air.

Cassian ran a possessive hand over her spine and slapped her ass forcing her to moan into the seat. He stepped up behind her so she could feel his hard length press between her ass cheeks.

“Happy anniversary, Sweetheart.”

And then he pushed into her dripping cunt with one quick thrust. They both moaned loudly as they got used to the feeling. When Nesta moved her hips back trying to gain some friction, he gripped her hips and kept her still.

“Oh, gods, Cassian,” Her moans were muffled by the leather seat.

Chuckling, he started to move. Each thrust brought pleasure surging through him. By the sounds Nesta was making, he knew she was feeling the same.

“Faster.” She demanded. “Harder.”

He grunted and grabbed her hips with both hands, trying his best not to shove her face into the seat but still doing what she asked.

He planted his feet better and then fucked into her with everything he had.

There was a cacophony of sounds; Cassian’s grunts, Nesta’s incomprehensible moans, the wet, vulgar sound of skin on skin, and the rhythmic creaking of the car shaking.

He shifted Nesta’s hip and hit a spot that sent her squealing,

“Yes! Cass, right there!” She screamed and he made sure to hit that spot with every thrust.

Soon enough, he felt her walls clenching around him and he gritted his teeth as she screamed his name as she orgasmed.

Cassian made sure to keep up his pace throughout the entire thing.

When he felt her stop pulsing with the aftershocks, he used an arm to wrap around her middle, pulling her up against him as best he could with her hands still bound. Still inside her, he moved a hand up to fondle her breasts and tweak her nipples, switching between her breasts at random.

His hips sped up, every thrust coaxing a new moan out of Nesta. He wanted to memorize all the sounds she made.

“Please, Cassian.” She gasped, already feeling another orgasm start to build in the pit of her stomach.

Cassian turned her head towards him and planted a surprisingly tender kiss to lips. He felt her smiling and he couldn’t help but smile against her lips, too.

Then the hand at her breasts moved to grip her throat, squeezing tightly until she choked and he lessened his grip a fraction. His other hand, the one wrapped around her waist moved down to rub furiously at her clit. Cassian kept his thrusts hard and fast. Just how she liked it.

Nesta let out a high-pitched squeal at all the sensations. Her mind was fuzzy from the pleasure—every single nerve ending was on fire from Cassian’s touches.

“Come for me, Sweetheart.” He murmured in her ear. That was all she needed, and she exploded. She screamed loudly, head thrown back onto his shoulder giving him perfect access to kiss and suck her neck, and her whole body shook from the reverberations of her release.

The feeling of her pussy clenching like a vice around his cock sent Cassian plowing into his own orgasm and he spilled inside her. She continued to shake as the aftershocks coursed through her body.

Cassian held her against him until they both recovered, hands running soothingly over her body. Then he slowly pulled out of her and she loosed a soft whine.

He chuckled but dug around his discarded pant’s pocket for the key to his handcuffs. He quickly unlocked them and winced at the bright red marks on Nesta’s wrists. She sighed in relief as the metal was removed and gently rubbed her sore wrists.

Instantly, all remaining lust faded away and Cassian was filled with guilt as he gently took Nesta’s wrists in his hands and kissed the tender flesh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

Nesta cut him off, “Cassian, it’s okay.” She lifted his chin to meet her hazy, post-orgasm eyes, “I liked it, don’t worry.”

He just stared at her wrists, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the back seat of the car with her. She gently pushed him against the back and laid down next to him, grabbing the spare blanket tucked under the driver’s seat and tossed it over them.

Nesta ran reassuring hands over Cassian’s guilt-ridden face, as he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her close to him. “Really, Cass. If you ever want to bring those home with you, feel free.”

At his raised brows she added, “The ones we already have don’t feel as authentic.”

He searched her face for any discomfort and finding none, laughed. He pulled her even closer and she sighed contentedly at his warmth as his arms tightened around her body.

“I’ll see what other toys I can bring home, too.”

She kissed his chest and he rested his chin on top of her head.

“Happy Anniversary, Babe,” Nesta whispered, smiling into his skin.

Cassian chuckled into her hair and pulled her tighter against him. “Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart.”

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @ladygabrielli1997

[futurebicon]

Maybe one where Sirius gets really anxious and calls Dumo to help him?

I had written this and completely forgot about it

Inspired by me losing my necklace that has my grandpas fingerprint on it and having a 30 minute panic attack until my dad found it in the garbage because it had fallen into my trash can.

CW- panic/anxiety attack, overreacting, crying, mention of arguments, let me know if I missed any

“I overreact a lot, right?” Sirius said as soon as Dumo answered the phone. “Like, I’m overreacting right now, right?”

Dumo would have made a joke about how he always overreacts but the tone of his sons voice told him it was not a time for jokes.

“Well it depends on what happened.”

“Yeah but, this isn’t a big deal so I’m overreacting.”

“Well can you tell me what happened?” He was already putting on his shoes.

“It’s not a big deal at all. I shouldn’t be this upset about it. It’s so stupid, I’m stupid for acting like this.” He started to ramble.

“Hey, take a breath, mon fils. Respirez profondément et dites-moi ce qui s'est passé,” he started the car.

“Okay um,” Sirius took a breath, “I was watching Harry and he grabbed the necklace Re got me and I didn’t notice and he pulled it and it broke and now I’m overreacting about it, right? I’m overreacting.”

Dumo knew there was more to the story. If it was just a broken necklace he would of been upset but not panicked like he was right now. “Is that all that happened?”

“I mean, me and Remus have been arguing a lot recently, not a lot, just more than normal but we don’t fight a lot anyways it’s just these past few weeks we have been and they’re all stupid fights and I-“

“Sirius,” Dumo cut him off.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ne vous excusez pas. Is Remus there?” He turned down Sirius’s street.

“No he’s out with Thomas. I don’t want to bother him with this.”

Dumo stopped himself from saying that he wouldn’t be bothering his boyfriend, knowing Sirius wouldn’t believe him anyways.

“Well I’m here so can you let me in and we’ll figure it out. Maybe we can fix the necklace.”

The line went dead and the door opened a few seconds later.

“Hey,” Dumo smiled.

“You didn’t have to come over.” Sirius closed the door behind Dumo.

Dumo shrugged. “I wanted to. Can I see the necklace?”

Sirius reached out his hand, dropping the broken chain into Dumo’s.

It took one look to know that it wasn’t going to be fixable.

The clasp was broken and the chain was ripped in half, the ‘12’ was split diagonally and the bottom part of the the ‘2’ was gone.

“I can’t find the bottom part so I vacuumed the floor cause I didn’t want Harry to put it in his mouth.” He told him and fell down onto the couch with his head in his hands, his leg bouncing.

“Parle-moi” Dumo sat beside him.

Sirius leaned back, opening his mouth to talk but closing it, shutting his eyes and shaking his head as he tried to calm himself down before his panic attack resumed. “I don’t know why this is making me feel like this. It’s just a piece of jewelry.”

“I think I know why.” Dumo pulled him into his chest and rubbed his back. “I think that you attach yourself to objects as if they are the person that gave you it. Like Adele’s teddy bear that she gave you to try and cheer you up after a call with your parents, which you still have in your room upstairs. And the bracelet Jules made you,” he touched the woven thread on Sirius’s wrist.

“You attach them so much to the people who gave it to you that they become one and the same. That teddy bear has become like your lifeline to Adele and the feeling surrounding it, you hold it when you miss her or get upset by your parents because that’s what the teddy bear represents.”

Tears fell down Sirius’s face as Dumo went on.

“The bracelet that you and Jules have is like your connection to them. You fidget with it when you talk about them and you always make sure it’s showing in interviews or pictures because you know Jules gets excited when they see you wearing it.”

Sirius played with the bracelet without realizing he was doing it.

“And as for the necklace, you’ve turned it into one of the most, if not the most, important thing to you.”

Sirius let out a sob.

“You fidget with it when you’re anxious, you kiss it when you miss Remus or when you catch him looking at you. You panic when you think you forgot to put it back on after a shower. You’ve grown so attached to it that you’ve unknowingly connected the necklace to Remus’s love for you. You’ve convinced your mind that the necklace is Remus’s love. And now it’s broken, which would have made you upset anyways but adding in that you and Remus have been fighting a lot, you panicked. I know how easily you fall back into the mindset of ‘I don’t deserve to be loved’, which is absolutely not true at all,” he said quickly.

“When you and Remus fight, you fall back into it fast. But now the necklace, which is his love for you, is broken and you’ve tricked your mind into thinking that his real love for you is broken too. Which it is not. Every relationship has its rough patches and you’ll get through this one. You can get a new necklace, I know it won’t be the same but it’s still the necklace.”

Sirius was shaking at this point.

“Am I right?”

He nodded, hand flying to his neck but remembering that the golden chain wasn’t there, and sobbed.

“Baby, I’m h- what’s going on what happened?” Remus hurried over to his boyfriend. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry,” Sirius pushed off of Dumo and into his boyfriends arms.

“What are you sorry for, love?” He asked him softly, laying down on the couch with Sirius laying on top of him.

Dumo opened his hand to show him the broken necklace.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Remus breathed out.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize Harry had grabbed it. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to break it.” He sobbed.

“Love it’s okay,” Remus told him. “We can get a new necklace, it’s okay.”

“I know. I know,” Sirius sat up, taking a hiccuped breath to calm his sobs. “I’m sorry,”

“Stop apologizing,” Remus chuckled.

“Sor-“ Sirius turned red and buried his face into Remus’s neck.

“You got him?” Dumo asked, as he stood up.

“Yeah, I got him. Thank you.” Remus nodded.

Dumo smiled as he looked into the living room, more grateful than ever that his son had found someone to love him unconditionally.

As always characters belong to the ever amazing @lumosinlove

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE ANY PROMPTS YOU HAVE AT ALL LITERALLY JUST ANY SIMPLE MINUSCULE THOUGHT THAT CROSSES YOUR MIND NO MATTER HOW DUMB YOU THINK IT IS OR SAD OR ANGST OR FLUFFY OR EVEN FUCKING SMUTTY PLEASE

[frattsparty]

My Heart Needed You Part 11

AN: this chapter starts out sweet but was very hard to write, obviously I had in mind her story but writing it was sad and I’ve basically gone back and forth if I should change it - TW below. @lexondeck had the amazing idea to bring our friends of Charming back. I hope you all like this chapter, but please read with caution and I hope this doesn’t offend or hurt anyone.

Warnings: consensual sex, angst, talk of abuse and sexual assault, miscarriage. Under 18 please do not read.

Tag List: @lexondeck @redpoodlern @nessamc @withmyteeth @chibsytelford @thegirlwhowritesfics

With everything that has happened the last few weeks, the drug run gone wrong, Christobal being taken, the hunt for who took him, and having to see the gruesome side of what Nestor does for Migue, your house, deciding to live with Nes until it’s done. Needing a break was an understatement.

Nestor had been so open and honest with you about how he ended up being who he was for Miguel, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you haven’t been as equally as honest with him.

You just weren’t sure how to tell him, or if you should tell him everything. You were grateful to have a few days away and miles between the two of you so you could get your thoughts in order. Wendy had called a few weeks ago saying she and Nero were having a small party for Abel’s birthday. Inviting you, Chibs, Hap, and Tig and Venus - but with rules of no club talk and no kuttes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Nestor snakes his arms around your waist as you zip up your small weekend bag.

You grab his hands, lacing your fingers with his and he places a kiss to your neck. “It’s just a few hours, I’ll be there for 2 days and I’ll come right back.” He hummed in response now leaving a trail of kisses over your neck.

“How long until you leave?” He says as he pulls his hands from yours and moves them under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“Mmm, probably an hour,” Moving to face him you wrap your arms around his neck and his move to your hips, as the two of you start aimlessly swaying,“Do you have something we need to do before I leave?” Your fingers are tracing lightly on the back and side of his neck.

“I can think of a few things,” he whispers in your ear as his hands make their way to your thighs lifting you into his arms causing you to squeal at the quick movements.

Your lips meet in a desperate kiss, your hands holding him to you. He lays you down, moving quickly to pull your shorts and underwear down while you pull off your shirt and bra, you move to your knees grabbing his belt and pulling him to you. As quickly as you can you are undoing his belt and pants, pushing them down as he pulls his shirt over his head.

He pushes you back and moves over you, lips meeting in a slower, greedy kiss. Your hands are roaming his back, lightly scratching with your nails, as one of his makes its way between your legs, immediately finding your clit. You gasp and let your head fall back.

He kisses from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck and landing on your chest where he bites and sucks leaving marks only the two of you will see, all while he works you with his skilled fingers. You are clinging tightly to his shoulders, “don’t stop, please Nes.”

His hand moves fast as he leaves open mouth kisses to your neck, “cum for me, baby.” With that you are thrown over the edge. Gasping and moaning his name, and your nails dig into his skin.

Before your breathing even settles he moves his body between your legs and pushes himself into you. His moan in your ear has you squeezing him tightly. “You are perfect, Hails.” He moans as he slowly thrust in and out.

While you love slow and gentle Nestor, right now you need more. “Harder Nes,” you gasp out as your hands move to his ass pulling him into you further. He gladly obliges and with one arm wrapped above your head holding you in place, his other hand on your cheek, and his face in your neck he thrusts into you hard and at a punishing pace. In no time you are chanting his name, gasps and grunts filling the room.

His hand that was on your cheek finds its way to your clit, roughly rubbing and circling, and before you can get any words out you clench around him tightly and cum again.

He pulls out of you and between breaths says, “roll over, Hails.” He’s quickly moving to help you and position you how he wants you. So you’re on your  knees, chest and face pushed into a pillow and he quickly enters you again. He grabs your hands, lacing your fingers and he leans fully over you, his body completely covering you, and moves faster chasing his own release causing you to head towards another. You are so sensitive, you need him to cum so you start pushing yourself back to meet his hips. “Cum for me, Nes, I need you to cum for me, please fill me up,” you beg him as you are gasping and moaning, squeezing his hands tightly. After a few more rough thrusts you are both over the edge and Nestor is filling you up.

“Fuck,” he said as he pulls out and rolls over next to you. “Now you should be feeling me everytime you walk while you’re gone.” He flashes a big, cocky grin as you roll your eyes still trying to catch your breath.

“I’m getting a shower, you are not welcome because I need to be fast.” Pecking his lips, “I’m going to be late and you and those hands will make me even later.”

He’s chuckling as you pull yourself from his arms and slowly walk on wobbly legs to the dresser pulling out fresh underwear. As you walk into the bathroom you look over your shoulder and see Nestor in all his glory watching you with a look of love on his face with his hands resting behind his head.

You quickly wash your hair and while you're rinsing the conditioner you are hit with cold air. You open your eyes and see Nestor sneaking in with a guilty but not sorry smile you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him. He quickly moved to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, hands resting on your butt.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said softly as you were twirling the ends of his hair with your fingers.

“I’ll miss you too, but I’ll be back first thing Monday.” You assured him, reaching up and leaving a soft kiss to his lips.

He moves his hands up holding the sides of your neck deepening the kiss, and you both stand there under the shower spray holding each other.

The water starts to get cold and you know it’s time to get on the road so you aren’t late. “I have to go, Nes.” Squeezing you tighter he nodded leaving a sweet kiss to your lips. “You get dressed and I’ll get your bags,” he gave you another squeeze.

He gets out of the shower first wrapping a towel low on his waist, and then holds his hands out to help you and quickly wraps you in a towel. Kissing your cheek he heads to the bedroom. Technically this one was his but in the last week you’ve moved fully into it, but you’ll be going to stay at his house until yours is ready. You got the house on the beach,and immediately hired a contractor to make all the updates and changes you want. It should be ready in no time and you couldn’t wait.

You braid your hair in two braids, mirroring Nestor’s daily look, and get dressed. As you headed down the stairs you stopped by to let Miguel know you were leaving and you made sure to give Emily a hug. Letting them both know you could come back early if they needed you.

When you get to the door Nestor is there with a large cold coffee and he had your bags in your car.

“Drive careful, Hails. And let me know when you get there okay?” He says as he gives you a tight hug, you nod wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his chest.

He grabs your hand and walks you to your car, opening your door for you. But before you get in you turn and take a hold of his face to give him one more kiss. “I love you!”

He smiles, one that met his eyes and always melted your heart. “I love you too. Have fun with your boys!”

***

The drive to Norco has taken a few hours, but it has been smooth and you got there before anyone from Charming. When you pull in you see Wendy and Nero on the porch and the boys swinging in the yard.

As you open your car door you hear the sweetest sound and tears come to your eyes as both boys scream for their aunt Hailey.

They rush to you and you to them, grabbing them both up in a big hug. “I’ve missed you boys so much!” These hugs were exactly what you needed.

You put the boys back down and made your way to Wendy and Nero, giving each a long hug.

“How was your drive?” Nero asked as he let you go.

“Great, I left early so traffic wasn't too bad, a little slow in San Diego but that’s all.”

He grabs your bags from the car and puts them inside for you, and heads back to the boys, while you and Wendy go to the kitchen. “I’m so glad you could come, I’ve missed you.” Wendy says as she gets you a drink.

“Me too, I’ve missed you and those boys, even Nero.” You chuckle.

“How are the boys doing?” You want to make sure they are doing well here. “Anything you need?”

“The first couple of weeks were rough, lots of tears and I guess you could call it anger. But I have Abel in therapy and that has really helped him a lot, Thomas transitioned with no issues.” She looks at you giving a small smile, “we’re doing really well. I couldn’t have done it without you taking care of literally everything.”

You nod. “It was all worth it knowing they are okay and thriving. This is what Jax wanted, for them to have a normal life without all that the club brings.”

Before the conversation went further another vehicle pulled up, and you could hear the boys screaming. You and Wendy gave each other big smiles as you got up and headed out.

“Aye there is our girl!” You heard from Chibs, you practically skipped off the porch and over to him where he immediately engulfed in a hug. “I miss ye darlin.”

“I miss you too!” Next came Happy, the man maybe quiet but when you lived in Charming he quickly became your favorite Son but you wouldn’t tell the others that.

“Hey Hap,” you mumbled as he squeezed you a little too tight.

Then you were lifted off the ground by Tig, “oh I’ve missed you, Hailey girl!”

“I missed you too, Tiggy!” You said as you squeezed his neck.

When he set you down, Venus took over and hugged you tightly. “Oh honey, we’ve truly miss you so much!”

“I’ve miss y’all too!”

Once all of the hugs and greetings were done you texted Nestor letting him know you made it, and then everyone went and sat out in the back deck. The boys played, Nero grilled, and we all chatted. It was such a fun night and Abel had the best time with his aunts and uncles, opening gifts. As the sun went down all the boys were outside running around and the sound of giggles filled the air. You, Wendy and Venus were inside cleaning up the kitchen.

“So, Hailey, how has it been being closer to home?” Venus asks as she starts drying dishes

“Yeah, how has it been? Nero told me that there may be a man in your life.” She turned away from the sink looking at you with a smirk.

“How does he know?!” You ask a little more shocked than you intended.

Chuckling Wendy says, “Marcus called him a few weeks ago and may have mentioned it.”

“It’s a long story, but he’s actually my ex-fiancé. We had always been best friends out while lives, our moms were best friends, and then as we got older we just became…more. By the time we were 17 we were all in. He was everything to me, my first and only, I mean he was it for me. We’re trying to rebuild now and it’s going really well.” You smile.

“So what changed, Hailey, why is he an ex-fiancé? Because you clearly still love him with that look on your face.” Venus points out.

“I’ve loved him my whole life, I can’t remember a time where he wasn’t by my side. He was a SEAL, and I was in law school. We bought a fixer upper house between home and San Diego. Almost every week we went to a beach restaurant and walked the beach after, he would reluctantly go dancing with me.” At that you all giggle. “Just before his last deployment he took me to the beach and proposed, obviously I said yes. He left about a month later, and it was just…” you pause, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “It was just really hard and some things happened while he was gone that I couldn’t tell him about, or anyone really. His brother knew and he helped me but I couldn’t face Nes, so I ran when he got home. That’s how I ended up in Charming, actually” you chuckle, “Gemma figured it all out, she’s one of the only people who ever knew. She read me like a damn book.” Taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from your cheeks you continue. “I hadn’t actually seen him in 5 years since his brother's funeral, and honestly, that didn’t go so well. He said some things out of anger and grief that hurt, so I didn’t go back after that.”

The three of you make your way to the dining room table with the tea Wendy made. “So, how did the reunion happen and go from not speaking to this?” Wendy asked.

“When Jax died and you all moved away I had told my parents that I didn’t know if I wanted to stay in Charming. Doing everything I did for Jax leading up to his death was a lot, and it hurt. I still work for the club and some others, but I just couldn’t be there anymore.”

Your hands are fidgeting with the mug in front of you. “My parents had gone to dinner at the Galindos and told them what was going on. Miguel needed an attorney that was fully on staff with him, and his accountant was subpar. Since I’m qualified for both he made an offer that just felt right, I’ve missed home. So when we got there Miguel and Nestor picked me up, and I just broke down, finally letting out the emotions of the last couple of months. For the first few weeks we kind of avoided each other, things were tense.”

Taking a sip of your tea, they both ask, “then what happened?”

You chuckle at their impatience, “honestly we got in a big fight, he wants answers to why I left and I just can’t tell him. So I stood my ground and he said things he shouldn’t have, it was kind of a blowup.”

“Hailey, why can’t you tell him?” Venus was watching your face, and you could tell she knew that what you were keeping wasn’t something small.

You look up at her, and since the first time you met her you felt safe in her presence. Moving your eyes to the table you whisper, “I feel ashamed, embarrassed, like I failed him.”

“Hails, baby, what happened to you?” Venus is looking at you with a mix of love and concern. “You can tell us.”

You shake your head, “I still haven’t even told Nes. After the fight he agreed that he won’t ask me again, and that when I’m ready he’ll be ready. But the weekend after that fight there was a party for business associates, and Nestor and I just, I don’t know, reconnected. We spent that night together and that’s it.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Wendy asks quietly.

“I can’t,” you look at her sadly. “I just know it will hurt him, and I’m afraid of what he will do.”

“What happened, Hailey?” Venus is now looking at you with a more serious look, “baby, did someone hurt you while he was gone?”

You can’t  look in their eyes, you just nod.

“You can talk to us, Hailey. Clearly whatever it was is still hurting you. Don’t carry this alone.” Wendy grabs your hand, squeezing it trying to encourage you.

Not moving your eyes from the table, “Since I was a teenager, I had worked for Miguel’s dad doing financial stuff. Numbers were easy and my dad was his lawyer, so he trusted me. During law school I would go down once a month or so and meet with him in person. I’ve always been a little afraid of him, I know what he is capable of.” You take in a shaky breath.

“I usually always had Nestor with me or even my dad, but when Nestor deployed my dad was working a big case with his law firm so I had to go alone. A lot was going on with the Galindos then so Jose was…on edge. More ruthless than ever.” You peek up at them and they both give you a reassuring look. “Nestor had been gone for about nine months, and honestly I was struggling. We didn’t talk much, I felt so alone. I was planning a wedding, finishing our house projects, nearing the end of law school. I was so lonely and stressed beyond measure, and I think I kind of let my guard down. So I went to Mexico and Miguel and his mom weren’t there, that should have been a red flag for me. But Devante, Jose’s second in command, pushed for me to come so one of Jose’s men came and picked me up, which was normal so I didn’t question it.”

You pause for a few seconds, taking a drink of your now cold tea. “When I went there I just got a terrible gut feeling. I walked into the house and I could hear Jose losing it in his office. Once I got down there his anger was right on me. The cartel wasn’t doing well, another cartel had come up and they were taking ground, and money.”

You are dreading telling this, but it’s been years since you've gotten to let this out and truly the only other person who you told everything too was Niko.

“Jose grabbed me and he just started screaming at me, saying awful things like how stupid I was, that I was ruining him, I’m a whore, endlessly berating me. I could smell the alcohol on him. While he was screaming he started hitting me, he busted my lip, gave me a black eye, bloodied my nose. When he was done I was covered in bruises, and I learned quickly that he wasn’t done. He shoved me into his desk and he pulled my clothes off…he forced himself on me and at that point I had no fight left in me.” Tears were streaming down your face as you look up, and Venus and Wendy both were wiping tears from their eyes.

“Devante cleaned me up, and the next day he brought me to Jose. And again Jose forced himself on me but this time Devante made sure to threaten me telling me to look like I was enjoying it because he was taking photos. That if I told anyone he would prove I was lying with those and use it as blackmail to control me, and that he would kill my family, and Nes. I believed him because I knew what he did for Jose, and truthfully I would have done anything and agreed to anything in that moment for it to be over so I could go home.” You wipe your nose with your hand and take a deep breath. “Once he was done, Devante told me to call someone to come get me and they just left. I called the one other person besides Nestor who I knew would protect me at all costs, his brother. So he came down and it took everything I had to keep him from doing something stupid. I begged him to just take me back to California.”

“So you never told your parents?” Wendy asked.

Shaking your head, “no, I believed his threat and I knew Niko wouldn’t betray my request to not tell anyone. He took me to his place in San Diego and cleaned me up as best he could. I stayed there until the bruises on my face faded and I felt like I could be at my house alone. Since I didn’t tell anyone, every month I still went to Mexico, I made sure to always have Niko with me so I could come and leave immediately. Before Nestor left I stopped birth control because we wanted a baby when he came home so I just decided to stop it.” The tears are pouring from your eyes now, you can hardly see. “I got pregnant.” You whisper barely loud enough for them to hear. “I took a pregnancy test at the office one day because I panicked, not even thinking that I had to go to Mexico that day alone. The test was in my bag and somehow Jose and Devante found it. Then all hell broke loose. Jose just started hitting me until I was on the ground and he kept kicking me, telling me he was making sure there was no evidence, no proof.”

They both gasp and reach for your hands. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Venus’ voice broke as she spoke.

“When he was done I got to my car and I just kept driving until I got to Nikos house. He met me at the door and I passed out. By the time he got me to the hospital I lost the baby. I had to actually have a procedure done to basically help it all along because my body was struggling. This was five days before Nestor came back. I couldn’t face him, I felt so terrible, so dirty.”

“Did Niko know you were leaving?” Venus asked as she rubbed the back of my hand.

“He did, when I told Nestor I was leaving I went right to Nikos house and he helped me move to Charming.”

“Had you not talked to Nestor during any of this?”

“Not much, it was the least we talked during any deployment, so I was already having a really hard time and then with everything else I was a shell of myself. I think Niko could see how hurt I was from not hearing from Nestor, and he was mad at him for shutting me out. That’s why he was so willing to help me leave I think. Before Nes came home I packed my stuff, and when he got to the house I gave him my key and ring and I left.”

“Hailey, how have you carried this? And you still haven’t told your parents? Or Nestor? Did Jax know?” Wendy got out between sniffles.

“Gemma and Niko knew the most, Jax knew pieces, but that’s it. Nestor knows I was hurt he figured that out in our fight, but he wants to know everything I just can’t tell him. I can’t lose him when he knows the truth.” Your tears are back at the thought of not having him.

“But Hailey, he deserves the truth. He clearly loves you, neither of you moved on with another relationship in all those years, and clearly keeping this inside is hurting you. Don’t let what Jose did ruin your future. Because baby, when you let the past dictate the now and the future, you only ever get to live in the past.” Venus told you as she stood up and envelopes you in a motherly hug.`Thank you for trusting us with this.”

“We are always going to be your family, Hailey. We’re here anytime you need us.” Wendy said as she joins the embrace. As you were all pulling yourselves together the boys came barreling in and Wendy sent them straight to the bath, while you got yourself ready for movies on the couch which was a request of both boys.

You all piled in the living room, Abel was on your right side tucked under your arm holding your hand tightly, while Thomas climbed right in your lap. The three of you cuddled up and before too long were all asleep. What you didn’t know was that Nero snapped a picture of the three of you, and sent it to Marcus who happened to be with Miguel and Nestor.

Seeing you cuddling with your boys made Nestor’s pulse quicken, and let him imagine coming home to that view. Miguel gave his friend a knowing look, a smile on both of their faces. “You’ve gotten a second chance brother, take advantage of it.”

“I plan on it, Mikey.” Nestor said confidently.

He couldn’t wait for you to be home tomorrow night and moving back into the house even if it was just until your new house was ready.

[fanfiction-inc]

“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Verse: Falcon And The Winter Soldier / Captain America And The Winter Soldier / Captain America: Civil War/ Marvel Alternate Universe

Characters/Pairings: Baron Zemo/ Reader, Baron Zemo/ Female Reader, John Walker

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8971

Warnings/Tags: Drinking, smut, m/f, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex, Google translated translations, Walker is an asshole and just keeps getting worse.

Summary: Baron Helmut Zemo, world renowned racer and your sworn enemy on the track. You two have been going at it for years now, but now you two must join forces to fight back against John Walker, a new up and coming racer who is proving to beat both of you. Will you two survive the other or meet your demise on the track?

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32606833/chapters/81176392?view_adult=true

This is a mess. An absolute, blazing mess that sits before you in the middle of your workshop. The chassis was dented all to Hell, a new one having to be rebuilt and delivered to fix your custom car. The engine had parts missing that were left at the crash sight when it was towed away. One car to your name, and it was fucked up. Maybe you should have taken Stark’s sponsorship and invested in a backup. Sitting on the cement floor of the workshop, screwdriver in hand as you pry out bits and pieces of parts from the engine, taking note of the parts and working on the budget you had set out for this year's series of races, you dreaded the moment you’d see the total cost. This repair would take a nice chunk, but you still had money left over after to make sure your car was at its best. That was the thing about working with your car, it was just you and this beast of metal and speed, working as one to reach the end of the line. The screwdriver is set down at your side when you struggled too long on getting the broken interconnecting rod that links the turbine from the compressor, a sigh following as you sit back. A slow sense of dread fills you as you look at the broken parts scattering the ground, the missing parts on your list, and the purple paint that still streaks the busted carbon fiber chassis. 

Working with Zemo was a dangerous game, which you recognized even before you shook on the arrangement he had proposed. He was wicked on the course, predictable at times but at others a ticking time bomb of what his next move may be. He was dangerous, but that is what made him damn good. He took far more risk than you usually would when it came to advancement in the race. Where you held back, he pushed forward. No wonder the man infuriated you. But this plan was the only thing you had to get things back to normal, back to the way they were where you hated Zemo with a passion and fought tooth and nail to stay better than him. You would never admit it, but without your rival, what fun was the race? See, it's not only the thrill of the chase between the driver and death, inching closer and closer with each hairpin turn and the risk of the other driver's moves. No, it’s also the thrill of having someone who wants to win just as bad as you, who is just as good and will do anything to try and progress further than you. It sets a standard, something to surpass, something to stay on level ground with when you catch yourself falling. Zemo was your equal, no matter how much you hated him. And equals like you two don’t have room for a third party to jump in and surpass. The game isn’t any fun when someone fucks with the rules. He had a point when it came to beating Walker down, especially since the man was already fighting you both with molotov cocktails and rocket fire in the form of playing dirty on the track. He was bringing a war to a battle just to see if he could come out on top. Despite everything telling you to stay away from Zemo and not get involved in this scheme, that it could end badly for one or both of you, you couldn’t stand the idea of having Walker walk all over you like some doormat. You couldn’t let him walk in as if he owned the place and could rule as he pleased. 

He needed a reality check. 

Your form pops and cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting on the solid ground and stretching to relieve your body of the tension. Everything felt so wrong, and you knew you had to make it right...But was this the right way to do it? “Jesus, you sound like that rice cereal with the little elves. You know, snap, crackle, and pop?” You laugh lightly when your friend comes into the workshop, food in hand and dressed down from the usual luxury attire he wore when visiting. No suit and tie in sight, just the oil stained wife beater you had seen him in when pursuing your education in the states as he worked tirelessly on his little toys as you liked to call them. He sets the bag down, the scent of the food causing your stomach to growl and pinch with a hint of pain. Have you really forgotten to eat today? You hadn’t noticed. “Got your favorite. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that speaks English? I had to have Friday translate for me.”

“Maybe you should take a new hobby and learn the French language.” You retorted with a grin, the man shaking his head as he sets everything out. “Maybe I want you as my teacher, but you’re always busy with driving around in your fast little car and getting famous for fighting a Sokovian asshole.” 

“And you’re too busy tinkering away with your toys in your little workshop in New York. Truly Tony, don’t tell me you actually want me as your teacher when your toys can teach you for me.” You pause as he rolled his eyes, watching the man for a brief moment as he turned to unwrap his burger. “Speaking of said Sokovian connard, he came to the bar I was at last night.” The man paused mid bite on the thick patty before speaking with his mouth full. “Okay, spill, what did he want?”

“Well originally I thought he was going to cuss me and try to blame me for the failure to complete the race yesterday, but he showed me something. You know the young man who won the race yesterday, corriger? John Walker?” 

“Yeah, I know the guy. Races for the American McLaren team and came straight from F3 to F1. What’d he do?” 

He raises a brow when you sigh, taking a seat beside him on the desk he had set the food down on and stealing the dish he had brought you. “Zemo showed me proof that Walker hit his car and sent him flying into mine. And I believe he did it on purpose.” You explain, taking a bite of the food your companion got for you. You pause for a moment to chew before returning to your theory. “On my way to the car bay, he smirked at me, and it wasn’t a “I won” smirk- well, it kinda was, but it was rather a “I did this to you” kind of smirk. Not necessarily an evil one but one that showed he knew exactly what he had done and was proud of it. Pride in an unfair act.”

“And no flags were thrown up?” 

“Non, not a one. As our friend the Baron said,” you cringe at the term friend, “the ones watching the race possibly couldn’t tell if he had done such on purpose or by accident. I believe him about such. And I suppose that brings me to what I’m about to say next.” You take a breath, gaze conflicted and downcast to your food as you speak. “The Baron offered a temporary truce of our rivalry to take down this John Walker, thus allowing us to return to what we do best after Walker is taken down.” He listened intently before his nose scrunched at the idea of such. You two working together? Ha! That’d never work! “And you said yes to this crazy idea? What the Hell are you thinking, (first name)?” Your hands shoot up in defense, gaze rising to meet his own. “I know, I know! It’s a crazy idea, but you know as well as I do that if Zemo and I want things back to normal, back to the rivalry, we have to do this together so Walker is met with further resistance. If I could avoid it and deal with this American scum, no offense, then I would.” 

“Some taken, but I get it. I just wonder if you two will go back to the way things are after all of this. Who knows, maybe you’ll become that dreaded word you hate to associate with him in any capacity-”

“Ne t'avise pas de le dire, Anthony.”

“Friendssss.” He draws it out, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics and slap his arm with the back of your grimey hand. He pretended to show a hurt expression before chuckling when another slap came, this time to his chest. “Oh hush, we will never be friends.” 

“I guess time will tell.” A shrug followed as Stark finished the last bite of his burger, crumbling the wrapper and lining up the shot with the waste bin in the corner. “He shoots,” the paper lands in the bin, his arms going up in the air. “He scores!”

“Stop goofing around, ma amie. I asked for your help with this and now I need it.”

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

Three weeks have passed, and the Germany race is upon you. The Nürburgring, a beast of a track that many racers to this day in Formula 1 fear like a plague sweeping the track. Your mind has been racing as you pieced your car back together and got it ready for racing. What happens if something wasn’t installed in the engine right? What if you didn’t get the intake vents lined up just right? You were a perfectionist with your car, and you know deep down that it was ready for race day but it made your head sing with pain as a migraine sets in. That wasn’t the only thing that made it throb and bring you to lean against the chassis of your car. Zemo’s deal, it worried you sick. But you didn’t have time to think about it much today. You couldn’t dwell on it. You had a race to win. 

Your eyes flick up at the speakers, listening to the message. It was press conference time. You take your seat where your name tag and flag set, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters sitting and waiting to open up questioning. To your left, Walker seats himself with a boyish, charming smile that didn’t quite meet those dark eyes. He looked your way, hand held out to you. “Hey, I hate that we didn’t get to meet earlier on. I’m John Walker.” You glance at his hand before looking back up at him. He played a good game, acting innocent like the boy scout he tried to be. You wouldn’t fall for his games, but you shook his hand briefly. “(First name) (Last name).” He grinned. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been watching you race for years now! I hate that you crashed a couple weeks ago, would have loved to have been standing on that podium with you.” 

“Oui, such a shame that was. But today is a new day, Mr. Walker.” Your gaze flickered to your right, startled by your rival taking his seat and looking directly at the pair of you. The Baron never sat beside you, even going as far as to request a seat change from the press conference coordinators. Some learned to keep you two separate, others knew it would incur drama, and drama made money. 

“Alright everyone, please take your seats and the conference will begin in one moment!” 

“Say, did you get your car all fixed up? Must have cost a pretty penny since you don’t have any sponsors.” Walker continued on, this time his gaze looking at the reporters as he gave a brief wave to the ones he recognized from the states. “Oui.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you?” You wanted to bite back, to say something and throw hands with this man, but you would be escorted out and disqualified in a snap. “Non.” A leg bumped yours under the table and you glance at Zemo who met your gaze briefly. Those dark brown eyes questioned if you were okay, a silent question that only you understood. The slightest nod was sent his way before looking at the reporters who got things settled and ready. 

“Questions are now open-” The announcer was startled with the amount of questions directed in the direction of you three, clearing his throat as he nodded to your little trio at the table. Mr. Walker!” He gestured to the reporter, watching him stand and adjust his microphone and camera. “Mr. Walker, this question is open to the three of you. Under allegations from the previous race at The Circuit Paul Ricard, many are wondering if you had caused the accident involving Zemo and (Last name). How do you feel about these accusations?” The man had the audacity to laugh and throw that boyish smile to the camera, rubbing at his face. “Look, that was not supposed to happen once so ever. As many of my fellow racers can attest, one wrong slip of the hand on your wheel and your car will eventually go off track. I got nervous, twitched, and just so happened to bump the Baron’s car into Ms. (Last name)’s car. I feel terrible, I truly do, but it could have happened to anyone with any driver. So I refute these accusations and continue to say this is an accident.” 

“And you, Baron, Ms. (Last name). How do you feel about the accusations?” The reporter gestured his question to you two now. “I respect your opinion, Mr. Walker,” Zemo began, the man smiling and sending a nod his way. “But I call, as the Americans say, bullshit.” His smile fell, darkened gaze questioning the man on what the Hell he was going on about. The reporters erupted in questioning, trying to get the attention of the two racers who stare each other down around you. You lean back a bit for them to have a better view-line, One of the American reporters calling your name. You use this moment to break the tension. “Oui?” 

“Do you believe you stand a chance as a woman against these two leading men now that John  Walker is starting to gain points and nearing your total?” You blink at his question before taking a deep breath, holding it to calm your throbbing head, and releasing it slowly. “Oui, I do. I believe I can keep up just as well as any racer. Take my racing career with Zemo. I have kept up with his old extrémité arrière.” The French reporters in the room resound in a fit of chuckles, bringing a smile to your face. “And against Walker?” You meet his gaze as he stares at you expectantly for an answer, forcing that smile he tried to use on you earlier. “I believe I stand quite a good chance, but que le meilleur coureur gagne.” You shrug, listening as the smaller drivers get asked their questions. The whole time there are eyes burning into the left side of your head, waiting until the racers are dismissed. Walker watches you as you walk out, watching the way Zemo comes up in tow as you make your way to the car bay. Something was up, and he could feel that there were clearly doubts in your mind about the accident in France. He would just have to deal with you later. “(First name), wait!” Zemo followed you into the bay, slowing from his jog to keep up with you to a stop near the desk holding your notes about the race and your vehicle. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in person since the bar.” He paused, looking into those eyes of yours that gaze at him curiously. “Are you ready for this, fräulein?” 

“Aussi prêt que possible, Baron.” You busy yourself with inspecting your car for any last minute changes, the man watching you as you inspect and work. “Good, good. And we are still a go, yes?” 

“Oui, we are still, as you said, a go.” He grinned at you, gaze flickering down your back as he looked over your uniform. Of course he had noticed you in all aspects before, talent and skill being the top, but never had he been this close like the night at the bar and now to really see you. Maybe after all of this, even with the rivalry, you could be friends, dare he say anything more than such. “You’re staring.” You quip, breaking him from his trance to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of color lingered on your cheeks. He coughed, trying to clear away the embarrassment lingering in his form. Why was he getting embarrassed? “Just thinking about what will be left behind when I pass you on the track, mein liebe.” Your eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed, the man relaxing due to how calm you are around him. No biting his head off, no anger, just chill. You stand and give a playful shove to his shoulder, smiling at the Sokovian. “In your dreams, Sokovian. Now, get the fuck out of my car bay.” He smiled to himself as he walked away, mind now clouded by the smile that lingered on your lips. He liked when you smiled, and he had to make sure this plan worked. 

The race was gearing up to start, the same process as before coming into play. Car, balaclava, wheel. You take your moment to breathe, today your speed has placed you in second, just as the plan entailed. Zemo took the first position. He glanced your way, sending a nod in your direction, only to smirk beneath the balaclava when you flip him off like usual. The rivalry was still on, no matter what he would still have that after dealing with Walker. Still have you in one sense or another. Your glance focused in on the man across the way in the pole position opposite of you, his eyes locked on the two of you before meeting your gaze. There he stares you down, even as his helmet slipped on. The visor was flipped down at the one minute warning, eliminating the final clarifying view of his gaze. It was clear he was cautious of you, maybe even lingering with hate. 

“Fahrer! Starten...sie ihre....Motoren!

That familiar purr settles into your chest, spreading through your body like a dam breaking and flooding the valley below. It stirs up the motivation to win once more, removing any doubt from your mind as you rev your engine. Zemo was right, Walker had to be stopped. With this attitude about racing, playing his little mind games and wrecking racers, he’d get someone killed just for first place. You couldn’t allow that...but you also couldn’t allow the rivalry you have established with Zemo to be broken because of someone else. There was too much there to be lost. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, licking your lips beneath the helmet as you prepare yourself for takeoff. The lights start counting down the race. Five seconds away, one green and two red lights. You watch them count down until the bottom lines of red are fully lit, then they flash off. You’re off, following Zemo right on the tail of his car as you start into the track. This track was a beast, your mind racing as it remembers every nook and cranny of it. Seventy three corners, eleven danger points, hair pin turns, all on a 12.8 mile long course that was deadly in the onset of any weather and people who get careless with their moves. Lucky enough, the sky was only overcast. No rain, little wind to interfere with the aerodynamics and mobility of the chassis, just the perfect chill in the air to remind you where you were in this moment. You take your turns with ease, avoiding the group of cars that began to follow suit on the track behind your own. Your eyes remained locked in on every shift to your side, Walker keeping close by within each turn and danger point you went through. 

As you drive, Walker gets up past you within one of the speed trap areas, the stretch of road allowing him to be up beside Zemo and leave you on the back of their tires. Zemo had a plan, you believed in this plan… but had he just been toying with you to get closer to Walker? Doubt clouded your mind, even as you sped up in an attempt to join the boys directly in the front. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed this plan, even as you get through the first twenty five laps, then the next twenty five. Each turn brought your tyres closer to Walkers who eyed you cautiously from time to time, as if silently daring you to pull a move like he did. Maybe you’d be caught and black flagged. Hell, that would make his fucking day if that happened. As he watched you, he had failed to notice on the wider strip of the track how Zemo began to drift further and further ahead. Then he was side tracked, Zemo slowing abruptly and stealing the attention of the young American driver. “What the Hell!?” He yelled over the roar of multiple motors, watching your car join Zemo’s side and the original speed be resumed. Now you sat beside Zemo on the track, pedal to the floorboard as you two kept your lead and basically walled Walker in. Each time he tried to drift around, one of you would shift your car just enough to keep him locked in. A grin met your lips as you drove, the energy of the race taking a whole new shift as you got closer and closer to the last lap with your rival right at your side. Tips of the chassis lined up perfectly, rear aerodynamic fins aligned like a well oiled machine. You two were in perfect sync as you put Zemo’s plan into action. Create a wall of impenetrable magnitude. If Walker tried anything, all three of you would go down. If he tried to get around, he would be blocked. There was no getting out from behind you two. 

The checkered flag waved in the quickly approaching distance, your gaze for a moment looking at your rival. The blur of purple was steady, lined with yours like that of an air jet's flight coordination. Perfectly straight, and running at full throttle like you are. As your cars pass the finish line, debate begins to rise. It was too close in the end to call, at least not right away. You slow, allowing the purple beast to pass by and enter the pit before you, a silent gesture of courtesy to the man you worked with. He sent a small nod your way when he watched you get out of your car, helmet removed along with his balaclava and revealing the joyful grin resting on his lips. Anyone else would mistaken it for cockiness, but the look in his eyes said it all. You two did it, you beat Walker in the race! He must be furious! A breath is held on your end, helmet and the fabric covering your face discarded as you turn your gaze away from the arriving racers and the man you drove along with. You were locked in on that score board, curiosity eating at you for who may have won the race. You were neck in neck with the man, the smallest push forward could earn either of you the points for the day. No names shown yet, and you anxiously leaned on the hot surface of the carbon fiber vehicle as you waited. Each noise around you from the slow dwindle of engines to low, fading purrs to the pit crews of your respective teams surrounding you, your rival, and the newcomer were drowned out by the pounding of your heart as it flooded your ear drums. It felt like hours passed as you kept your gaze locked on, ignoring the happy clamour of your crew, the clasp of hands on your shoulder and pats on your back, even down to the ruffling of your hair in glee. Then it flashed up. 

1st: (First initial). (Last name) 

1st: H. Zemo 

2nd: J. Walker

The press goes crazy over the news, each respective country reporting their amazement over the finishing results.

“Ein fehlerfreier, aber überraschender Sieg für Baron Helmut Zemo, der mit (First name) (Last name) gleichauf den ersten Platz belegt!”

“Victoire pour la championne de France (First name) (Last name) alors qu'elle rejoint le Baron Helmut Zemo dans une rare égalité!”

“In a remarkable and truly unprecedented event in The Nürburgring F1 race! Baron Helmet Zemo and (First name) (Last name) tied in a photo finish for first place, a rare occurrence that has set back American racer John Walker from the potential for first place!”

Your breath comes out shaky, slowly slipping out as reality hits you like a wrecking ball to a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs as a happy noise rings out from your lips, joining your crew in the celebration as they hug and surround you. You placed first. Zemo placed first. Curiosity met you, your gaze looking to the man who celebrated with his own crew before allowing himself a chance to settle his gaze on you in turn. There he sent a wink, a silent congratulations that made you shake your head at his antics before refocusing on the celebration. You would be standing with the man in first place on that podium, both sharing the victory wreath and spraying champagne all over the crowd of fans and your respective pit crews who were basking in the glory just as much as you two were. You couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in your form, even as you make your way not too far from your rival. For a second, just a split second, you let the rivalry go and let your smile be seen in accompaniment with his gleeful grin, shoulders bumping when you’re positioned at the podium by the F1 management crew. Press swarm to the area like flies to a summer barbecue, wanting to catch a glimpse of the rivals standing together, being on the podium and sharing first place. “Not so bad working with my, as you put it earlier, old extrémité arrière, hm?” He questioned as you two stood together, the closeness you two were forced into for the photographers far more comfortable than it would have been under any other circumstances. He blamed the feelings he had at this moment on the victory over Walker, over the rest of the racers, not even thinking that perhaps this was beyond the fact that he won but that you, his favorite rival, won alongside him. “Non, not the worst.” You joked lightly, forcing a serious face for the cameras when they began to picture you two side by side on the first place stand. He accepted the bottle of champagne before you could, holding it out. “You may have the honor, (First name).” Your fingers brush his own as you grasp the bottle with him, popping the cork and sending the bubbly to decorate the crowd. Flash after flash met you as you stood alongside Zemo and basked in the glory of the win. “How about drinks to celebrate? Even as rivals, I believe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He whispered the question, causing your gaze to lock on his own in brief surprise. Was he serious!? “I um..Oui, sure. Meet you in town?” He nods, gaze seeming to glimmer ever so brighter as he takes his leave. Even when you separate to get cleaned of the alcohol and switch to “civilian clothing”, your smile doesn’t falter. Maybe it would be good for you to drink the night away with company that didn’t seem as bad as you once had thought before. 

As you begin to peel away the racing suit, the flame resistant material bunching at your waist and revealing the open expanses of your back, the simplistic bra strap over the back the only material seen, you fail to hear the seething man enter your car bay. “Do you know what you just did, Ms. (Last name)? Who you fucked with?” Walker puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him, his face inches away from yours. “You went and fucked with the wrong man. You could have just accepted your loss, licked your wounds, and we would have been just fine. But oh no, you had to go and fuck with my winning streak with that Sokovian piece of shit.” He huffed when you shove him back, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over your bra covered chest out of annoyance. You could care less what he saw. “I don’t see why you’re so mad, Mr. Walker. You got a taste of your own medicine after that stunt you pulled back in France. You and I both know that was no accident.” 

“You know what? Yeah, I did that. But I see you are working with Zemo now, which is also a big no-no in Formula 1. Seems we’re both sinners of the race. The greed of it.” His tone was a hushed, harsh whisper. There was no need to alert anyone that he was in your private quarters harassing you. “I’m nothing like you.” Your tone came out in a hiss, his downturned lips curving up into a grin at your response. “Oh sweetheart, I beg to differ.” He chuckled at the narrowed gaze he was met with. “You and your Sokovian boy toy need to back off. Let this happen like it should or you’ll not like what happens next.”

“And just what do you think you’ll do, John? Because all I’m hearing right now is a lot of talking with no proof of any big execution.” Your lazy grin and scoff of annoyance at his presence left him to raise his hands in mock defeat, hands coming to rest on your shoulders once more with a harsh grip that made your body tense and hold you there. He leaned in, even as you tried to lean away, his lips moving in close near your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” His tone alone makes your body betray you, the calm, cool, and collected front slipping as a shiver ran up your spine at his warning. And with that, he leaves you to get dressed for the night. 

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

Zemo texts you an address for a bar off the beaten path in Cologne, Germany, further than you had anticipated in going from the track but a welcomed change of scenery. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” The words stick with you, even as you drive the main road into the big city, looking for the bar Zemo had invited you to. It was connected to a hotel, a fancy hotel at that, with old architecture and lavish exterior. You could only imagine the interior! A nervous breath is taken as you get out of the car, gaze meeting the man you had just won with. He smiled at you, clothing casual and the air around him feeling far more comforting now than ever. The incident with Walker had left you rattled, sending your nerve endings to buzz and let your body know that you aren’t okay. Even though you felt off, you force a smile to the man who wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders and led you in to sit at the quiet bar. “So, did I not tell you the plan would work?”

“I just thought it was your cockiness talking, but I will admit, though it physically pains me to do so…” You pause, biting your lip. “Well?” You sigh. “You were right.” The words come out struggled and forced, the man's grin growing at such. “Ah~, I don’t believe I caught that.” “Oh va te faire foutre!” He chuckled at your words, hand raised towards the bartender to get you drinks. “What are you ordering?”

“Shots. We deserve something to toast our victory to, and I don’t believe champagne is your drink of choice.” He offered you one of the smaller glasses, his own raised before him as he locks those bright brown eyes with your own. “Ein Prost! To us, and our victory over John Walker. May that American schwein taste defeat again.” You raise your glass, hoping to drink away any thoughts about Walker's warning and leave it for the next day. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided right then and there that you would finally have fun and disregard the night that you sat across from your rival. Tonight you just wanted to drink. “À la vôtre!” The drink is bitter as it hits your throat and travels down your body, causing a warmth to spread soon after. Kuemmerling, a bitter concoction of herbaceous and bittersweet flavors. A drink of choice for Zemo it seemed because soon after the shots were downed, he ordered another round. 

Shot after shot after shot is taken down until your body is leaning against his own and a joke that is shaky at best from his part sends you into a roar of laughter. He holds you close, laughing right along with you. “So... It’s Barenjar?” He snorts at your piss poor pronunciation of the new liquor joining the mix, shaking his head at you as he looks on with drunken vision. “Nien, nien, Bärenjäger. Say it with me. Bä-”

“Bä-”

“Ren-”

“Ren-”

“Jäger!”

“Mick Jagger?” 

He laughs in defeat, shaking his head as he watched you. So relaxed, so calm. He hasn’t seen you like this before in his life. He’s startled by your sudden movements after downing your last shot for the night, catching you as you try to stand and stumble as your feet betray you. Your body landing against his, his arms slotting themselves around your waist as your drunken gaze catches his own. Those brown eyes of his are hypnotizing, keeping your gaze locked on his own. “I have something to confess, (First name).” He paused to wet his lips, trying to piece the words together in his hazy mind. “I have liked you since the day I met you.” He finally blurts out, fingers moving up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “You’re infuriating, yet calming. Stubborn and determined. Your smile is lovely and those eyes…” He trails off, leaving your hazy mind questioning what was going to come after, but you hardly have time to think about it as he pressed in closer, face inches from your own. The smell of Bärenjäger and Kuemmerling lingered on his breath as it fanned over your face, those brown eyes searching for something in your own. “Can you feel it, the connection we have? Can you see that we are not just rivals now?” His tone was just barely above a whisper, questioning you with a hint of desperation to his tone. 

“Oui.” 

That was the only answer he needed. His lips are on yours with fever and desperation, hands clinging to your form for dear life after hearing the words that sent him to fully fall into the feeling of you. You were his comfort, the one constant thing in his life. His rival...but right now you were the woman he sloppily kissed at the hotel bar as the bartender tried to catch his attention to tell you that you both were cut off for the night. His hands moved to grip at your thigh and tangle in your hair, abandoning the idea of holding anything back, the liquor giving him courage to make a move on you. He has wanted to do this for years, touch you, feel you, have you there with him in any way he could. He separated only when the threat of security was offered by the bartender, lips kiss swollen and a faint pant falling from them. “Come.” His hand takes hold of yours, leading you along to the lift and up to his room for the night. This hotel that he called home for the time being would serve well for what he had in mind to do to you. He led you inside, not even waiting for the door to close as he captured your lips once more, hands taking your rear in his grasp and hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him, back pressed up against the closest wall he could find. He held you there, lips separating to begin trailing hungry kisses down the column of your throat and allow his hands to trace along your sides. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the bare skin there, wanting what he has longed for since the day he met you. A noise fell from your lips as he lazily suckled a mark over your pulse point, your fingers tangling into his dark hair and tugging the locks when his hips grounded against your own. He couldn’t help the fire blooming in his body, needy for the creature that has teased him for all these years, The one he thought he would never have a chance with because of their hate for each other on the track. He needed you, and in your current state, you were willing to accept any touch he offered. He was just Helmut Zemo tonight. Not your rival, not the Baron, just Helmut. And you were his (First name). 

A groan left his lips when you pulled him by his hair away from your neck, hands working to take your shirt up and over your head. Throwing it aside, he looked at you with a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze he gave when looking at the new modifications to his car, taking pride in the beauty of things that drove him to win. He dampens his lips, fingers lazily dragging up the expanses of your back from bottom to top, resting on the clasp of the garment covering your breast. “Darf ich?” Your nod was all he needed, the clasp undone with skilled fingers that knew precision, holding still on your back when your arms rose to take the garment and throw it in an unknown direction to be forgotten about for the time being. He wasted no time with taking one of your breasts in hand, fingers running over the sensitive bud of one while he took the other in his mouth, suckling and lavishing with his tongue. He took his time, drunken yet slowly sobering mind savoring each and every noise that fell from your lips as he toyed with your body. You’re barely into foreplay and he already has your panties soaked, the Baron being a creature that knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going without even knowing your body. He was skilled, that much was for sure in your mind as he switched to the other breast, paying equal attention to each. Those brown eyes of his don’t leave your face for a second, watching every reaction and trying to commit them to memory. If he could only have you tonight, he wanted to remember everything he possibly could. Every detail of your body, everything that drew a hitched breath or a low moan from your lips. Every shaky breath and the way your body would press closer to his greedy mouth and hand. He stored it all away. Maybe he’d wake up the next day and fancy this a pleasant dream...It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten worked up by thinking about you. 

His hand traveled downward, cupping your sex through your pants as his own grinds up against your thigh, straining through the fabric of his pants. He ached for you, for your heated skin to be pressed against his own in a delicious rut of bodies. He traced along the seam, hearing the low whine that fell from your lips as he teased you through the material. “Helmut, stop for a moment.” The man paused all actions, his gaze shifted to a worried state as he met your eyes and spoke with concern. “Are you alright, mein liebling?”

“Oui.” Your fingers trace his jaw, the man's face briefly pressing in against your palm before delivering a soft kiss to the area. A tender gesture that sent butterflies to flutter in your stomach and heart to speed further than the foreplay had already caused. “I just...Take me to the bedroom. Please?” You preferred not being right beside the door where anyone could listen in, where anyone could hold a camera up to the peephole and record the sexual pleasures of the infamous Wildcard and Baron. That would make a top headline, wouldn’t it? He gave a chuckle at your demand, nodding as he kept his grip on you, your legs wrapping just a hint tighter around him as he moved you both to the bedroom. He’s gentle with setting you down, looking down at you when you unwrap your arms and legs from his form. “Scheiße, du bist perfekt.” He slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt, working each plastic piece through the loop with fingers that were known for precision on the course. A shift in his steering, taking hold of the semi-automatic paddle-shifters as he drove, it was all well calculated and that applied on and off the track. His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, thrown aside before focusing on the belt on his pants. He gets it off with what can only be deemed a darkening gaze, knowing he’s getting closer and closer to having you. You rose to let your hands trail his chest, roaming over the lean muscle that rested there as feather light kisses met his collarbone. A shiver met his spine, shooting up in bliss as he allowed a moment to savor the feeling of you touching his skin. Your skin was so warm, so inviting. He was getting lost in everything. 

Your fingers shift down his torso, trailing his abdomen before looping in the belt loops of his pants to pull him forward, a low growl falling from his lips when you place a kiss above the waistline of his pants. Your movements were confident, unzipping his trousers and tugging them down to reveal the tent hidden behind his underwear. He swallowed thickly as he kicked his pants off, watching your every move as you cup him through the thin fabric, thumb moving to brush over the leaking tip and cause a shaky breath to leave him. “Maus-” A groan leaves his lips when a jerk through the fabric is given, his head falling back briefly. He huffed when you repeated the motion, fingers anxious to wrap around his bare flesh and feel that hot skin in the palm of your hand. But he stops you, hand wrapping around your own and bringing it to his lips once more. “Tonight is not about me, maus.” You’re surprised when the man placed his hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back to lay on the bed as he slowly sank down onto his knees, ”Es geht nur um dich.’ His lips drag slowly across your skin, trailing light kisses and nips along your abdomen and resting at the waist of your pants. He glanced up, a silent question of courtesy offered your way as his fingers loop in the band, asking permission like a proper gentleman. “Go ahead.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, his presence making you feel like you’re floating higher and higher on this ride with him. He gave a tug, your rear lifting and back arching to aid the man as he pulled your pants down and let them fall to join the scattered articles around the room. You’d have to go on a damn scavenger hunt just to find your clothes! But none of that mattered now, not when his hot breath is fanning over your needy core and face nuzzling at your thighs. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh before another followed, then another as he began to trail inward towards your covered core. “Aufgeregt?” He purred in questioning, a low rumble of a chuckle coming from deep within his chest spilling out at the small nod he is met with, loving how he has left you damn near speechless just by being so close. Your hips jump back before he gets a grip on them, his tongue moving over the wet fabric and causing a light whine to spill from your lips. “Helmut, please.” Oh, hearing you speak his name only egged him on further, needing you. He needed to taste you, to feel you. He needed you in every way, and his drunken mind only pushed him on to pull the fabric away from your legs and stare at the glory that is you. So wet, so beautiful. He wasted no more time, bringing your legs to hook over his shoulders and delved into the intoxicating honey pot he had been offered. He started off slowly, a long lap from entrance to clit given before the motion was repeated just to hear the noise that left your lips with each swipe. Zemo was mapping you out, taking note of what areas made your thighs twitch and tense, what areas made your hips jump back at the sensitivity of his touch, and what made those oh so delicious noises spill from your mouth. 

He allows his tongue to focus in on your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a rhythm that sends your head to spin and moan after moan to spill from your lips. “Merde!” He smirked against your core when your hand shot down to tangle in his locks, needing stability after he took your clit between his lips and suckled. He repeats the motion, gaze locked on your own and watching the sudden shock of the feeling run through your body. You were so reactive, and just for him. A lazy lick is given to the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your hips jerk lightly and seeing the tremble that began to settle into your thighs. “Close?” He questioned as if he was questioning about an everyday thing, totally not giving the impression he was getting you close to orgasm just with that sinful tongue and lips of his. O-Oui.” Your tone was shaky, breathy, eyes half lidded and watching his every move on you. “Gut.” A gasp fell from your lips when he sank a digit into your hot, needy core, arching along the way and searching for the sweet spot deep within. He wasn’t like the inexperienced boys who would just jab their fingers into their partner and hope it hits something. No, his fingers curled, probed, dragged and felt for that spot in a way that showed his experience. A second digit is added not too long after the first, probing the flesh within until he hears your moan and finds that spot that drives you to clamp your thighs around his head. A groan left his lips at the rush of slick is met with each probe, massaging that spot within you and only adding to the tension building in your core. Each throb he was met with only spurred him on. He was on a mission to bring you over the edge, and he would do anything to get you off. When his mouth returned to your still sensitive clit, tongue flicking of the bundle and including the occasional suckle while his fingers moved deep within, you were done for. A rough tug is given to his hair as your body convulses, thighs clamping around him and grinding your hips down against his eager tongue. He helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your clit until you give a light shove to his head to make him stop. A wicked smile crosses his features as he gives one final suckle, a squeak leaving your lips at the motion and shoving him back as much as your trembling body allows. He can only chuckle at the attempt, fingers removing from your throbbing core. He watched your gaze land on him when you caught sight of the digits, watching the man move his glance to them as if he was inspecting them before a quiet whimper left your lips when they were taken one by one into his mouth. He made it a show, teasing you as he cleaned each digit of your juices in a slow motion. Sinking down to the knuckle before returning and licking at whatever was left. “Tease.” You huffed, chest rising and falling steadily with your hammering heart. “Oh you know you like it.” He retorted, lazily letting his body climb up and over yours on the plush mattress. 

He pushed the final material separating you from him away, throwing the underwear away before letting himself settle in against your body. Zemo wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, lips joining yours as he lined up with you, one hand taking hold of your hip while the other took hold of your hair, tugging it back enough to have access to your neck. As he begins to ease himself within you, his lips attach at a section of your neck, a harsh mark left in his wake as he sinks inch by inch within the lightly pulsing core that he toyed with before. A groan was left against your skin when he was fully settled, grip rough on your hip but movements gentle as he waited for you to adjust. He was no animal, not cruel! He knew that there was a possibility for pain if he moved too soon, and even in his drunken haze he recognized the look in your eyes, the slight twinge of pain from his size alone. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant, no, but it was an intrusion you weren’t quite used to when normally doing this. He lightly placed kisses to sooth you along the mark he left, trailing them up the underside of your chin, going along your jaw before soon connecting with your lips in a soft kiss. Something to distract you until you were ready for him to move. A shift of your hips was given when you tested the feeling of him in you, the moan that left your lips causing a low growl to fall from his own. He lifted his body to loom over yours, hand moving from your hair to cup a breast as he sets a slow, deep and even borderline sensual pace within your core. Slowly out until the tip stayed just barely in before plunging deeply into your warm, wet depths. He huffed with each push of his cock within your core, meeting your moans with a faint groan here or a soft growl there when your walls gripped him just right. He was losing composure with each faint twitch of your walls around him, pace beginning to pick up into a steady rhythm that developed the noise of slick skin hitting skin and the bed beneath to creak ever so slightly with each movement. “Verdammt!” He could tell how your walls began to tighten around him, how each noise leaving your lips grew louder and louder. His poor neighbors, hearing you both so vividly through the walls of the hotel. Yet he didn’t care who heard. As long as they knew that in this moment, you were his to take, that was all that mattered. Zemo moved his thumb to your clit, working the bundle along with the assault he laid on your sensitive spot deep within. Each clamp around him brought his own release to come closer and closer. “Cum for me, maus.” He demanded with a grunt, needing to feel you come undone to reach his own release. His words hit somewhere deep in you, the demand that was laced with a plea driving you to your second orgasm of the night. He groaned as he felt you clamp around him, the sensation alone causing him to remove himself from you and spill onto your stomach with a few quick pumps of his hand along his slick coated member. He pants, taking in the sight of you one final time for the time being. Messy, slickened by your own arousal and sweat. Your hair was messed up, your lips parted and panting. To add the cherry on top, you were coated in his release, a sight for sore eyes while you lay like this. He made you like this, and it swells his drunken ego. 

Slowly he eased down to lay at your side, bringing you in against him with an almost delicate kiss delivered to your temple. Your breathing slowly evened out, head resting against his chest as his fingers trail along your back, drawing imaginary patterns as his mind begins to blank. The alcohol was taking effect, causing him to enter a lull and for his eyes to flutter shut. As you lay there, catching your breath, you watch as he drifts away, a single question beginning to enter your sobering mind. 

“What have I done?”

Tag List: @darksxder | @mymagicsuitcase | @mischief-siriusly-managed | @alindeluce​

[ao3bronte]

when chaos reigns [the sirens come to play]

A Merman AU. (Rated T with some suggestive language.) Now on AO3! READ PROLOGUE - PART 2 HERE!

[Part 3]

Covid-19 forced a lot of people to stay stuck in their homes until they inevitably went mad and uploaded cringe videos of themselves dancing to Blinding Lights on TikTok. But Adrien Agreste, having been unable to leave his underwater ivory tower since the mysterious disappearance of his mother, really doesn’t know any different. 

“Final question. Who was the fifth king of the Sea of Okhotsk?”

Slumped against his seagrass cushion, Adrien sighs into his palm. “The Sea of Okhotsk doesn’t have a king. They have clans and elders.”

“Excellent,” Nathalie Sancoeur responds, wordlessly motioning for him to stop slouching. “I think that concludes political history for this evening. Onto diplomacy—”

“Can you give me a minute?” Adrien tries not to give away his intentions as he glances through a porthole. “I think Father is home and I’d like to greet him.”

Nathalie raises a brow. “He won’t change his mind, you know.”

“Didn't we just talk about erosion?” With a firm flick of his tail, Adrien makes his way towards his usually barred bedroom door. “It works on rocks, so why can’t it work on him?”

“Your father is not a rock, Adrien.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Adrien murmurs under his breath, leaving anyway. He snakes his way through the narrow halls of his palatial home towards Father’s atelier and hopes he doesn’t miss him; he rarely sees Father at all these days...sometimes it feels like Adrien hardly knows him at all.

Especially when he’d announced that Adrien was going to mate with his betrothed, whether he liked it or not!

“Good afternoon, Father.” Adrien straightens and bows his head in greeting, swallowing painfully as his father peers down at him from his pedestal. “I’m thankful that you made it back home safely.”

His father sighs. “If you’re here to argue with me once again—”

“But Father!”

“You are NOT getting out of this arrangement! I already told you!”

“Please, Father. Hear me out—”

“I have no intention of letting you leave this kingdom,” his father rages, slashing his hand through the water with enough force to shake the entire structure around them. “Everything you need is right here where I can keep an eye on you. I will not have you outside in this dangerous world.”

“It's not dangerous, Father. I'm always stuck in here by myself. Why can't I leave our home? Why can’t I explore the Ligurian Kingdom and make friends just like everyone else?”

“Because you’re not like everyone else! You are my son! You are the heir to my—” his father stops himself and pauses to gather his composure, his eyes ablaze with discontent. “Adrien, the kingdom of the Tyrrhenian Sea is relying on me to unite our families. You don’t want to disappoint an entire kingdom, do you?”

Adrien’s shoulders cave. “No.”

“Then don’t continue to disappoint me. Return to your studies immediately and do not trouble me with this matter again.” His father turns and ushers him away with a shoo of his webbed fingers. “Nathalie, where is the sentimonster you promised for the administrator? M. Damoclès has wronged me for the last time.”

“It will be finished this evening,” Nathalie responds, her fingers gently toying with the enamel brooch hanging from her neck. 

“When I hired you as my assistant, you assured me that you could complete tasks on time.”

“I did.” Nathalie flicks her crimson tail in irritation. “And I will continue to serve your interests in a timely fashion. Is there anything else I can do for you at this time, sir?”

The imposing interim leader of the Ligurian Kingdom simply pinches the bridge of his nose. “That is all. Ensure Adrien’s bedroom is secured immediately. And get on land as soon as possible to finish your spellcasting; I didn’t hire a sea witch for her to rest on her laurels.”

“Of course, your Regency.”

~

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

Nathalie tries not to smirk as her sheepish charge continues to wriggle his way through the barred porthole in his bedroom. “That depends entirely on what you plan on doing with your freedom, providing you can get your dorsal fin uncaught.”

“I’m—” Adrien grunts, desperately trying to shimmy his backside through the stone barricade. “—I want to go back to where you took me before!”

Nathalie quirks an eyebrow as he finally manages to free his dorsal fins and slither outside his bedroom relatively unscathed. “Humans are not to be trifled with.” 

“Says the sea witch who can transform into one!”

“My Miraculous doesn’t exactly work underwater.” Nathalie explains, raising a sculpted brow. “I don’t suppose you plan on visiting the grotto?”

Adrien nods in earnest. “The flowers are out and I wanted to see them again! And there aren’t any humans there, so I’ll be fine!”

Flower pollen, of course, is like catnip to merpeople. One whiff of the stuff and it’s Boogie Nights for anyone with a tail and a propensity for caterwauling sea shanties. 

“Be back by nightfall.” Nathalie tells him, having orchestrated this escape since the very beginning. She watches him swim away as fast as his tail will take him none the wiser, and grazes her nails down the curved edges of her Peacock Miraculous, the likes of which holds the immeasurable magic of a mermaid on a mission that will surely bring the Mediterranean to its knees.

[Part 4]

For all of Marinette’s near compulsive need to prepare for things ahead of time, it can be assumed that she is most definitely not prepared to find a merman scooching his body up on shore like a sea lion and shoving his face into an oleander bush. 

And her screams of shock and horror most certainly confirm it.

“Aaaaaauuugh!!!!!” Marinette, having just crawled through a small cavern to a grotto to investigate the golden gleam, falls flat on her face yet again. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

The merman, equally as frightened, shrieks and rolls backwards as ungainly as one can when you’ve just been caught shoving your face into an oleander bush. She catches a brief glimpse of his face — speckled and smeared with golden pollen — before he promptly flings himself back into the sea.

Marinette is horrified. Astounded. Dumbfounded! Merpeople are impossible to find and even more impossible to survive! And she just—it was right in front of her! Green and gold and—she saw it! With her very own eyeballs! It was there! Huffing flowers! 

For the second time in almost as many minutes, Marinette sits down and stares dumbly at the waves.

Merpeople kill humans for fun...and she just survived! Holy crap!

Marinette keeps one eye on the watery mouth of the grotto and the other on her surroundings. She never would have spotted the grotto had she not performed the act of becoming a human pancake back out on the main beach; the entrance to this cave is so small and so hidden that Marinette wonders if anyone has ever discovered it before. It’s about the size of a lorry and covered in moss and spindly vines that meander up towards the small window of sunlight at the top. The limestone walls are strangely warm here, radiating heat and spurring the growth of the plants that are blooming as if it were summertime. Even the sand is different here; startlingly white with speckles of black and grey, the tiny shoreline creeps down into a cerulean underground cavern alight with bioluminescence.

It’s magnificent, but she’s not safe here. “Are you still there?”

Marinette nearly enters cardiac arrest when a mop of golden hair suddenly pops up from the vibrant depths. He heard her? Can he understand her?

The merman blinks. “Uhhh… I…”

“Are you waiting for me to leave? Because I can leave,” Marinette says, pointing towards the tiny crevice she’d just crawled through, “But then I’d have to take my eyes off of you and then you could drag me into the ocean and drown me and then my grandmother would be looking all over for me and then the police would have to come here and try to find my dead body and my parents, they’re stuck in Paris because of the coronavirus and—”

“—No, no! I was just trying to—” The merman disappears under the water for a moment, only to emerge at the edge of the beach. “—I didn’t mean to scare you! You scared me!”

Marinette screeches and scurries backwards to create some more distance between them. “How do you know how to speak French?!”

“How do you know how to speak Nereid?”

“I asked you first!”

“Well, I don’t speak French. I speak Nereid!”

“What’s that, merman language?”

“Yeah.” The merman cocks his head. “What’s French? Human language?”

“Well, for some humans, yes.” Marinette crosses her arms across her chest and narrows her eyes. “Wait a minute...are you making fun of me?”

The merman flashes his gleaming set of triangular teeth just long enough for Marinette to notice that he has not just one row of razor-sharp teeth in his mouth, but two. “I wouldn’t dream of causing a commocean.”

Marinette’s nose wrinkles at the pun. “Now you really are making fun of me.”

“I mean, maybe.” The merman winks. “It’s kind of fun seeing you turn pink. Is that a human thing too?”

“I’m not turning pink.” Marinette harrumphs, turning her shoulder away from him. “And humans turn pink because...because they’re warm. I’m just warm, that’s all.”

“It’s probably because of your...” The merman gestures to her raincoat and jeans. “Do you need help getting out of them?”

With all of the poise of a particularly erratic squirrel, Marinette simply splutters. “What?!” 

“Well, you must be trapped in them or you would have taken them off already. We get stuck in your human garbage all the time, it’s awful.” The merman opens his mouth and taps against one of his larger teeth with his fingernail. “Here, I can cut them off for you if you want—”

“You’re not coming anywhere near me with those things!” Marinette recoils, scooching towards the oleander bushes on her bottom. “You could rip me apart!”

“I’m not going to kill you!” The merman exclaims with a huff. “Besides, if I was hungry, I’d have eaten you already!”

Marinette’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. “You eat people?!”

“Sometimes.” The merman shrugs as if it’s no big deal, “Haven’t you ever had human fingers before? Crunchy, yet satisfying.”

“No! That’s disgusting!”

The merman’s straight face dissolves into laughter at Marinette’s expression of utter horror. “Now, I’m actually making fun of you!”

“Well, it’s not funny!” Marinette grabs a handful of sand and hurls it at him, dusting his face and hair. He continues to giggle at her expense and Marinette has had just about enough of him. “Stop it!”

“Sorry!” The merman grapples to get himself together. “I just wanted to show you that I’m funny, I swear! I've never really been out on my own before and I've never had friends. It's all sort of new to me.”

“Joking about eating people is not how you make friends,” Marinette grumbles, still keeping a wary eye on the merman before her until the implications of his words catch up with her ears. “Wait, you don’t have any friends? How come?”

“Father doesn’t let me out of my home...ever.” The merman rubs the back of his head nervously. “I kind of escaped to come see the flowers, which is how I met you!”

“Is...is that normal for merpeople?” 

“To come see the flowers? Yeah, we love flowers!”

Marinette shakes her head. “No, I meant the ‘being stuck in your house’ thing. Why don’t you...you know, swim around and, uh...talk to people?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The merman waves her off, looking a little uncomfortable before turning his attention back to her. “What does matter is that we can be friends! Would you like to be friends?” The merman shimmies forwards with excitement and thrusts his hand right under her nose. “I’m Adrien! Pleased to make your aquantance.”

Marinette looks at his outstretched hand and hesitates. “You’re not going to pull me into the water and drown me, are you?”

“I’m not a dolphin, you know, I have manners.” Adrien huffs, hoisting himself further up onto the sand bank. “See? Only my tail fins are in the water now, I couldn’t pull you in even if I tried.”

Marinette carefully reaches out and gently clasps his hand, revelling in the strange texture of his skin. He cups his other hand over hers and she mimics the gesture, smiling a little as he squeezes his fingers and then shakes once before letting go. “There. Now we’re friends!”

“I don’t know about that,” Marinette says, still keeping a wary eye on the merman in front of her. He settles back down on his elbows and Marinette’s eyes are drawn to his chest as he brushes the granules of ivory sand from his sides, his muscles clenching at the movement. “You’re a merman and I’m a human. We aren’t supposed to be friends.”

[NEXT PART]

[lizardrosen]

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit. All’s with me meet that I can fashion fit.

Songs with key lyrics under the cut!

Backstage Romance - Moulin Rouge

I want your horror, I want your design 'Cause you're a criminal as long as you're mine

Under My Skin - Jukebox the Ghost

And my family had a castle, way back when I would have lived there if they had more male children

You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid - Jonathan Young

With a thousand lies and a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes

The Room Where It Happens - Hamilton

God help and forgive me I wanna build something that's gonna outlive me

All Eyes On Me - Victor McKnight

So many experiments So many mistakes But I'll go all the way Til I'm in perfect shape (First the worst Maybe thirds the charm)

Run For Cover - The Killers

What are you waiting for, a kiss or an apology? You think by now you'd have an A in toxicology

Could Have Been Me - The Struts

I wanna taste love and pain Wanna feel pride and shame I don't wanna take my time Don't wanna waste one line

Nails For Breakfast, Tacks For Snacks - Panic! At The Disco

That's when you st-st-stutter something profound To the support on the line And with the way you've been talking Every word gets you a step closer to hell

You’re Dreaming - Wolf Parade

Another scene more shattered glass Every system in collapse A billion screens they move so fast but that’s not life

Like Real People Do - Hozier

I knew that look, dear: eyes always seeking Was there in someone that dug long ago

Young God - Halsey

If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes I know you wanna go to heaven, but you're human tonight

Take It Easy (Love Nothing) - Bright Eyes

Now I do as I please and lie through my teeth Someone might get hurt, but it won't be me I should probably feel cheap but I just feel free... And a little bit empty

The Boys Are Too Refined - The Hush Sound

And if the timing is right (Ohh) To sneak off into the night (Ohh) I'll let myself be taken just for the thrill

Bâtard - Stromae

Han, pardon, monsieur ne prend pas parti Monsieur n'est même pas raciste, vu que monsieur n'a pas de racines D'ailleurs monsieur a un ami noir, et même un ami Aryen Monsieur est mieux que tout ça, d'ailleurs tout ça, bah ça n'sert à rien

Oxford Comma - Vampire Weekend

All your diction dripping with disdain Through the pain, I always tell the truth

Call Them Brothers - Regina Spektor

That's it, it's split - it won't recover Just frame the halves and call them brothers

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing (Acoustic) - Set It Off

Aware, aware, you stalk your prey With criminal mentality You sink your teeth into the people you depend on Infecting everyone, you're quite the problem

Counting Stars (instrumental) - Simply Three

I feel something so wrong doing the right thing I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly

Young And Vicious - Night Terrors of 1927

I saw the fakes, the forgeries The verdicts, guilty pleas Erased the names, wrote in our own Shining new history

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark

I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see That you're the antidote to everything except for me Through a constellation of tears on your lashes Burn everything you love then burn the ashes

Afraid - The Neighborhood

When I wake up, I'm afraid Somebody else might take my place When I wake up, I'm afraid Somebody else might end up being me

Dear Dictator - Saint Motel

And at the trial, there'll be no jury And all the dead are gonna play witness Not too late to say you're sorry It's too late to truly mean it

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene - Hozier

Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion No more alone or myself could I be Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open No shortage of sordid, no protest from me

High Tide Rising - Fox

There's a big storm comin' And I don't care So ooh, baby Just gimme my ticket to hell

Younger - The Mountain Goats

Set the torch aflame Call the night by name Stake out your dark position

Solitary One - Murder by Death

You've got your books You've got your shows But who you really are Nobody knows You just carry on 'Til you're gone

Highest Building - Anna Tivel

In the palm of your hand is a worn out dollar You stole from a man on the subway steps With a cardboard sign said thank the father But you ain’t spoke no thank you yet

Running Up That Hill - Ruby & the Rogues

You don't want to hurt me But see how deep the bullet lies Unaware I'm tearing you asunder Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts

Peacocks - The Mountain Goats

Hands grasping and groping Seizing opportunity right where it lies The sky will fall, we will rise

Watch It Crash - Toh Kay

It said We can't just blame it on our mothers Claim everything they did was always wrong And there ain't not turning back when our train is off its track And there's nothing we can do but watch it crash

Seven Nation Army - Zella Day

And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding Right before the lord All the words are gonna bleed from me And I will think no more

I’m Gonna Win - Rob Cantor

It’s hard to be charming and smart and disarming It’s hard to pretend you’re the best It’s hard to fulfill everyone’s expectations It’s hard to keep up with the rest

[serpentinesarang]

Art

pairing: san (choi san) x fem reader

genre: third-person POV (no y/n), smut

word count: 1029

content warnings: somewhat public/car sex, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie

summary: you’d set up a fancy date night with a regal theme, so you surprise san with some hot limo sex on the way.

a/n: another very old piece written in early 2018

korean key:

⦿ miguk yeonghwa (미국 영화) = American movie; pronounced “mee-gook yawng-wah”

⦿ ssibal (씨발) = fuck [Y’ALL DID NOT GET THIS FROM ME]; pronounced “shee-bahl”

⦿ jagi (자기) = babe; pronounced “jog-ee”

⦿ jebal (제발) = please; pronounced “jeh-bahl”

⦿ jeongmal mianhae (정말 미안해) = informal version of I’m so sorry; pronounced “jung-mahl mee-ahn-eh”

⦿ hajiman (하지만) = but; pronounced “ha-gee-mahn”

⦿ sekssi (섹시) = sexy; pronounced “sehk-she”

⦿ ne (네) = most common form of yes; pronounced “neh”

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

At last, a sleek stretch limousine pulled up to the curb and parked in front of San’s apartment, exactly when she'd told him it would arrive.

Leaving his perch at the front stoop, San approached the limo, trying to peer through the back passenger window before realizing all of the windows were fully tinted—optimal privacy.

He panicked for a hot second when he opened the door to find an unoccupied, leather backseat, but when he slid inside and pulled the door shut, the panic was quickly replaced with intrigue.

Toward his left, on the longer bench seat in the center of the limo, she sat. Enrobed in a flowy, black, plunging halter-neck dress with its mid-thigh slit revealing her crossed legs also covered in sheer black, she laid back with her arms loosely crossed and her body angled towards him. To complete the look, she wore black platform heels and her hair pulled back in a tight, gelled bun.

San smiled, saying, “Now I understand why you asked me to wear an all-black suit.”

“I wanted it to feel like Mr. & Mrs. Smith,” she replied softly, returning the smile.

He chuckled under his breath. “Yet another miguk yeonghwa I don’t know.”

Bouncing her heeled foot up and down, she deepened her smile and narrowed her eyes seductively before reaching to grab two glasses of poured champagne from the holders atop the shiny mini-bar across from her. She leaned forward to hand San a glass then leaned the opposite way toward the privacy pane concealing the driver. Tapping on the pane with her knuckle, she announced, “We're ready to go,” and with that, the limo transitioned back into the traffic of the evening.

She laid back again and sipped from her glass as he said in a playfully pointed tone, “So... missus,” referring to the film she’d mentioned, “will you tell me where we're going that requires nice clothes and a fancy limo ride?”

Carefully, she gathered her dress at the sides and fluidly maneuvered, champagne still in hand, to straddle him. A strong wave of his favorite perfume of hers flooded his nose as she situated herself.

"We're going to the art museum," she replied, her eyes lit up with excitement.

San wrapped an arm around her waist as she drank more champagne. "Dressed to the nines to go look at art?" he mused lightly, intently gazing at her.

“Baby,” she began, placing a hand on his shoulder, “why don't we observe art looking like art?”

“If by ‘we,’ you mean you, then I agree," he said, sipping his champagne.

She smirked and twisted around to replace both champagne glasses on the mini-bar, and as she did so, he suddenly noticed the glint of a thin, golden lariat necklace hanging from her neck that trailed into the mouth of her splendid cleavage, and at its end was a small diamond.

In one smooth, impulsive motion, San quickly hooked a finger beneath the chain with his free hand and yanked it towards him, causing her body to crash against his as he caught her in a sloppy kiss. She pushed deeper into his lips as his hands traveled downward to stroke and squeeze her bountiful ass. Their tongues became acquainted, and, following her own impulses, she snaked her hands underneath her mountains of black fabric to unzip his dress pants and free his pulsing erection.

She brought her hands up to cup his head beneath the ears to push it back against the seat and kissed his neck, teasingly dragging her pussy against his bare shaft.

Immediately feeling the warmth of her slick arousal, San exhaled and asked breathlessly, “No underwear?”

She giggled against his neck then pulled away and lifted the bulk of her dress. His question was answered the moment he saw nothing but a crimson garter belt clipped to her black, lace-topped stockings—not the basic pantyhose he’d initially thought she was wearing.

San responded with an unabashed moan, looking into her eyes as he lightly pressed a fingertip on her clit and traced circles. She took hold of his shaft and tightened her grip exactly how he’d taught her, slowly pumping him and leaning in to resume kissing.

After a few minutes, he pulled back to whisper against her swollen lips, “How much longer is the drive?”

“Fifteen minutes or so. Enough time to finish this masterpiece,” she replied, quickly rubbing circles with her thumb over his precum-soaked opening before sinking down on him.

San let out a sinfully pornographic groan at the sudden sheathing within her tight, warm walls. “Ssibal, jagi... You feel amazing.”

Without warning him, she clutched his shoulders and launched into fast hip rolls, making sure to sit all the way down each time. No inch left behind.

Digging his head into her cleavage and gripping one of her breasts, he whispered raggedly, “Jebal, do the thing.”

She knew exactly what he wanted, so she gave it to him: rhythmic clenching of her muscles every time she slid down, enveloping his long, veiny shaft in her supreme tightness. San panted against her chest and hungrily pressed her body against his with both arms as closely as he could manage while she weaved her hands through his soft black locks, gently massaging his scalp.

A minute passed before San was finally able to conjure up words. “Jeongmal mianhae hajiman... I’m gonna cum. Too good... too sekssi.”

“Ne, San, ne,” she encouraged him breathlessly, increasing her speed even more for him. She found herself suddenly wondering if her fluid had trailed down his balls yet like it always does.

After one last, particularly rough thrust downward, San propelled his head back against the leather, staring into her eyes with mouth ajar in silent amazement. “Ohhhh, ne!”

He shoved his hips upward with all his might as he unleashed his orgasm inside her, letting her enjoy his uncontrollable vibrations. 

Sighing dramatically once he’d settled down, San said, “We’re gonna do this on the way home, right? You need to cum too.”

Keeping his still-hard dick warm and cozy within her stretched core, she replied without hesitation, “Damn right I need to cum, mister.”

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Kamen Rider Thunderbirds chapter 3 (Bit 3)

(Prologue, Bit 1, Bit 2 Updated, Bit 3…)

Just an updated version of the second bit of the chapter, because it was crap and I thought I should edit some things to make it interesting. Still featured my Kamen Rider OCs and their daily lives before Bit 3 :3

(@myladykayo, @janetm74, @willow-salix ) -0-0-0-

Taira was standing near his bike, taking his moment smiling at the sky. The wind blew through his hair as a familiar sensation flowed through his spirit like a river. A sensation of warmth and comfort. 

As he turned his head to look at his side, there was a crying little boy he had been comforting. He had to stop from the bike ride after seeing this poor little soul crying at the edge of the busy street near a market area. He can’t help but stop next to the 

Channeling his positive energy, he began speaking once more.

“When I was a little boy, me and my papa went hiking on a snowy mountain. We went so far; we got lost, believe it or not," he chuckled to himself as he knelt in front of the youngster, "I remember I have been crying so badly, I thought we couldn't go home… I was a wreck that my tears would become icicles. But then, papa told me, and this is something I would never forget as long as I live! He said to me in his usual calm but firm voice: "Son, don’t ever panic. Panic kills you." and then he simply made a bonfire with flint and steel and after what felt like hours of keeping the fire alive, we were finally being rescued and got home!"

Taira smiled fondly when the little boy calmed down as he listened curiously, forgetting about his problem. “So it's going to be fine.”

The child lifted his poor face, looking up to him with his red, tear-filled eyes, "Y-You sure?"

"Trust me!" Taira grinned. He noticed a police officer patrolling nearby, then he pointed in their direction, "You see this police officer, he can keep you safe till your parents arrive."

"B-bu-but I'm scared…" he started crying again.

Taira swiftly jumped into action. Three white balls appeared in his hands and he began juggling. The kid stopped sobbing and watched in amazement as Taira caught and threw the balls with ease, doing impressive tricks that he had honed. He finished off with a 'ta-da' pose after an amazing trick with a face splitting smile.

The little boy clapped in applause.

"Nice!" exclaimed a friendly voice.

In the corner of his eye, his three best friends stood applauding him for the act. The dog jumped in excitement as a way of congratulation as well. He bowed to both sides.

He stood up as the kid's parents finally arrived, relieved to have found their child safe and sound. They thanked him and he returned with a big, wide grin.

Before they leave, Taira gave the boy one of his juggling balls as a parting gift and gave him the thumbs up. The little child had returned the gesture happily and left.

He felt satisfied, the day didn't pass in vain.

"Always here to make people smile, right bud?" laughed Koji, in which Taira had responded with a grin.

"That’s my goal! To reach 2000 skills to make people smile!" he replied proudly, making Koji, Yuuki and Recko chuckle.

The gang took their break on a bench, as they watched the busy streets of New York city. Cars and bystanders pass by and people preparing for Christmas and the New Year. The snow and ice accompanied the mood; a great setting for the holidays! But not for Koji’s cold feet. 

"Man, wish we could've just stayed in Cuba; slagging cold!" he whined a little bit, shaking awkwardly to keep himself warm.

"Your dance is ridiculous..." scoffed Recko in a harsh, toneless voice, "It's not Christmas yet."

"I know! It wasn't that bad in Oklahoma, but here in New York, it is a cold, bloody, wet mess!" Koji's commentary made chuckles out of his circle, even for Recko who simply smirked in amusement

As Taira was about to ask Yuuki a question, he heard a sudden beeping noise coming from his Beatchaser 2000. He zoomed towards the bike and pressed a button in his motorcycle’s controls, in which it activated the radio.

“Mosh, mosh* ?” he asked.

“Taira-kun?” got out a soft, feminine voice from the radio.

“Ah, Sakiko-chan~!” He chanted happily, “What a lovely jovely day to hear your beautiful voice! How are you?”

“I'm alright,” he heard her giggle, “How are you, Little Kuwagata?”

“Ah, just a mundane day with a few twists,” he joked as he explained.

"Then it’s not a 'mundane' day if it had some twists," Taira can sense her teasing smile from the other end, “So, what happened?”

“This morning, we had some ramen noodles with bacon and eggs for breakfast, cooked by our generous Yuuki. Nearly ruined by Koji’s clumsiness, but thankfully saved by Recko fast reflexes,” Taira began joyfully, “Raider would’ve been really happy if some of the bacon had fallen, but at least he got his Puppuccino.” he mumbled, giggling to himself before continuing, "We went on a ride for a bit, then we had to stop, because just now I had to cheer up a poor kid while we waited for his parents to find him."

"Typical of you," Sakiko snorted knowingfully, “Ne(Say), how’s the mission?”

“Well…” Taira eyes darted from one side to another before leaning close to the radio to whisper, “Let’s just say we blew the Kaijin skyhigh and got some News points. Standard stuff.” He straightened up again. "So, what's your plan now?” Now its Taira’s ask.

"I am joining you guys in a few weeks, so I can keep an eye on Yuuki," She explained.

"Ah, I see…" Taira smiled sadly as he looked over at his sad friend, who was sulking at the bench at the moment.

"How is he?" Sakiko asked, a bit of worry in his voice.

"Well, he's recovering alright. But very slowly…" Taira

"Hai. Well, when I'll return, I'll bring your favorite beaver tails."

"Oh, I miss them!" Taira grinned. They both laughed wholeheartedly. Just as Yuuki approached Taira and his bike with eagerness.

"Konnichiwa, Sakiko-chan!" He exclaimed.

"Konnichiwa, Yuuki-kun! How are you?"  Sakiko greeted.

"I am doing fine, really…"

“Ne, how’s International Rescue? What’s their recent news?” Sakiko asked, causing his eyes to lit up.

“Oh, looks like this week they are having an even tougher time than usual," Yuuki sympathized, "Some of the rescues made me swear my heart had stopped! I hope they are ok..." his voice slowly trailed off as he had a flash of worry.

"Oh, Fruit Jesus… Those poor guys. Well, that comes with the job of saving lives. You know..." She responded.

"Like us…" Yuuki whispered under his breath, his mind momentarily drifted into that thought.

"Alright then, I have to go save somebody. Again..." Deadpanned Sakiko.

Yuuki and Taira both chuckled, knowing who she was referring too, "Hai. Tell him I said hi, well, after you rescued him from whatever bad salad he’s in. Sayonara." Yuuki smiled, the salad joke almost made Taira laugh.

"Sayonara, Taira-kun, Yuuki-kun. Please take care. Oh and tell Recko and Koji I said hi as well! Ciao!" was her last words before she hung up.

Recko and Koji approached the duo shortly after.

"Seems like your interest in International Rescue helped you a little," Recko pointed out, his voice not as monotone as usual. Raider who was beside him nodded his canine head.

"I guess you are right," Yuuki smiled, having been so glad his close buddies always got his back. "I feel bad for them, though. They don't seem to have a break..." Yuuki sighed silently with sympathy.

Suddenly, a shock hit Yuuki like a lightning strike to the head, causing him to freeze into place. He saw flashes of something sinister as a familiar sensation rippled across his body. His face of a shy boy morphed into a face of a man who got unfinished business to be done. His own muscles and senses began moving on their own, as if they had got taken over by something. Something inside of him... His inner warrior… his inner warrior must respond to the call… he must purge the unknown evil...

His friends immediately recognized his strange change of behavior. It can only mean one thing…

“Yuuki, something’s wrong?” asked Taira as he turned serious.

“I sense… danger…” muttered Yuuki, the determination of a guardian awakened in his eyes.

“Does that mean…?” began Koji.

“We must go!” Yuuki wasted no time but to rush towards his bike.

“O-Oi! Matte kudasai(Wait)!” Koji frantically shouted as he too rushed to his bike, tripping himself and fell flat on his face only to get up quickly and got on into his machine.

"Klutz…" scoffed Recko as he and his dog followed suit.

The rest of the gang all hopped onto their motorcycles and rode after Yuuki, who was leading them towards the scene of chaos...

*AN: Japanese way of saying "hello" on the phone

[supergirl-fanfiction]

Missed My Chance

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

A/N- Not a Supergirl story obviously, but thought I would share this on here because I’m in an angsty sort of mood. Hope y'all enjoy and I'm sorry if this breaks your heart.

You had the ability to heal anyone but you had to be careful with how you used your ability because not only would you would gain the other persons injuries but you couldn't just partially heal someone. During the battle with Ultron you saw what happened with Pietro and you knew Wanda couldn't lose her brother on top of everything else she had lost.

(Y/N)- Your Name

Warnings- Blood, Death,

It all happened so fast. You had thought you had managed to save everyone, then the next moment Clint was using his body to shield a small boy. The bullets never touched him though because Pietro had speed over and shielded both Clint and the little boy. It almost seemed like it had happened in slow motion. You watched as Pietro's body collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from his wounds. You immediately ran over to him and fell to your knees beside his body. He began coughing and blood flew from his mouth and splattered against you. You placed your hands on his wounds and your eyes and hands began to glow. Clint looked at you with his jaw clenched. He knew he couldn't stop you though. He knew you would do anything to save Pietro, no matter what it costed you.

"(Y/N). Stop." Pietro demanded you as he saw what you were doing. You shook your head and clenched your jaw as you felt the bullet holes begin to appear on your body. You could feel the tears falling down your face but you refused to stop. You wouldn't let Wanda lose her brother. Not when you knew you could save him, even if it costed you your life. Your only regret is that you would never be able to tell the woman how you really felt about her. You had harbored the biggest crush for her that had grown from simple infatuation to full-blown love and now you wouldn't be able to tell her you loved her. You wouldn't be able to take that chance and ask her on a date. You wouldn't be able to have a chance at spending the rest of your life with the woman you who held your heart. As the pain continued to grow you let out a pain filled scream but you refused to stop.

"(Y/N)! Stop please! You will kill yourself!" You could hear the desperateness in Pietro's voice.

"N..no. If I st...stop you...you will d...die. Wan...Wanda needs you to...to st..stay alive." You managed to get out through your clenched teeth. Pietro felt the tears begin to fill his eyes.

"Please (Y/N). Please. Wanda needs you too. My sister will be devastated without you. You mean so much to her and...and you mean a lot to me too." You looked down at Pietro and saw the tears begin to race down his cheeks. It pained you but you knew that this was the only option so you kept going until you had completely healed him. As soon as you had taken away all of his injuries and given them to yourself you collapsed and began to cough up blood. You could feel the tears flowing from your eyes as Pietro quickly scrambled to hold you. He raced to you to the quinjet that was waiting for you. As soon as everyone saw you they rushed to your side when he set you down.

"Did...did we wi..win?" You asked everyone around you. You got a lot of answers in confirmation. You guys had won and you had managed to save Pietro.

"What happened?" You weren't sure who asked but you could hear their voice waver.

"She saved me. I told her not to but she wouldn't stop. She said that Wanda needed me alive so she took my injuries and transferred them to herself." You could hear multiple people in the room take a sharp intake of breath. You could feel yourself starting to lose consciousness. You tried keeping your eyes open but you were fighting a losing battle.

"Pietro." You rasped out to get his attention. He was immediately at your side.

"I ne..need you to do so..some...something for m..me." He nodded his head.

"Of course anything." You gave him a soft smile as he held onto your hand. His tight grip felt uncomfortable but you didn't say anything about it.

"Tell Wa..Wanda that I...I love he...her. I ha..have al..always loved her. She wa..was my lig...light in the dark. Sh..she made m..me hap..happier than I ha..have ever been. Th..there is a let...letter in m..my bedside ta..table. Ma..make sure she ge..gets it." You struggled to get out as you felt yourself slipping further away. Pietro opened his mouth to tell you that you could tell her once you were better but you took once last shaky breath and then you were gone. Pietro let out a pain filled scream as he fell to his knees. Everyone else had tears streaming down their face. Wanda came running into the quintjet and panic began to consume her as she saw the looks on everyones faces and you nowhere in sight. She heard Pietro begging for you to come back and she felt her heartbreak. Surely you weren't hurt. You had to be ok. You just had to be. She hadn't gained the courage to tell you she was in love with you but she had decided that once Ultron had been taken care of she was going to tell you. You couldn't be gone before she even got her chance with you. She hadn't even realized she had been walking towards Pietro's voice until she was standing beside him looking down at your lifeless eyes. Everything hit her at once and the scream that she released as she crumpled to the ground would forever be burned into everyones minds. They had never heard something filled with so much agony.

~~~~~Time Skip~~~~~

It had been 3 months since you had passed away. Pietro had told Wanda what your final words had been and it only caused the pain in her chest to grow. You had loved her. Now though she would never be able to experience what it would be like to be with you. There would be no cute dates, no petty arguments, no play fights. She would never get to know what it would be like to wake up with your arms wrapped around her holding her against your chest. There would be no kisses shared in the early morning as the both of you struggled to wake up. She would never know what it would be like to be able to love you and be loved by you in return. She hadn't even opened the letter yet. That was going to change today though. She had finally gained the courage to read what you had written. She sat down on her bed as she carefully opened the letter and began reading.

Wanda,

So I know this is probably weird and I probably just handed this to you than ran away because I'm a chicken. I'm sorry for that. There is something really important that I have to tell you though and while I have tried to tell you 10 billion times with actual words and not written words I always second guessed myself and changed my Lind at the last second. I figured maybe if I wrote it down it would be easier though. So I'm just going to come out and say it. I love you Wanda. I have loved you for so long that I don't even remember what not being in love with you is like. Your smile brings me light when I am surrounded by darkness. Your laugh is so infectious that no matter how bad of a day/week/month I have been having it immediately makes warmth spread from my chest. Sorry that probably sounded weird or whatever but its true. You are the one true good thing in my Wanda. My heart skips a beat every time I hear your voice, your beauty outshines everyone else's (even Natashas but don't tell her I said that or she is going to kick my ass). It's not just your beauty on the outside though. You are just as beautiful if not more so on the inside. I know others may disagree but thats just because they never had the pleasure of being able to get to know who you truly are underneath your badass persona. (PS Scarlet Witch is a badass name. I'm actually kind of jealous you got such a cool ass name). Anyways hopefully you love me too and I didn't just make everything between us weird. If you want to find me I'm probably hiding in the vents with Clint so uh just come find me I guess.

Love,

Your favorite person ever (Hopefully),

(Y/N)

The tears began to flow from Wanda's eyes like a river. Along you had loved her and she had missed her chance due to fear. She would never forgive herself for missing her chance with you. She would never forgive herself for never telling you she loved you. Most of all though she would never forgive herself for not saving you. You would remain in her heart forever and no matter what she knew she would never be able to love anyone else again.

[petersboyfriendsonofthor]

Safe

Mob!Tom x Male Reader AU

Written for @starksparker‘s summer writing challenge. 

Warnings: language, ethnic slurs (antagonist is a real asshole), violence, graphic injuries, mob/gang violence. (If I forgot to add any please lmk!!) (there’s some fluff at the end don’t worry)

Word Count: ~ 3.2k

Safe

“So tell us, mate, how are things with you and Tom?” Your friend Alfie asks as he slides you a pint from down the bar.

You smile, taking a sip.

“It’s been great,” you say, your smile growing wider. “He’s simply amazing. Such a gentleman, always polite, incredibly supportive, funny, charming. Honestly, it would be easier to list the things I don’t like about him.”  

“Alright then,” Alfie says, leaning into the bar with a grin. “What don’t you like about him?”

“Easy. Nothing,” you say. The boys laugh. “He’s the best there is. The past eight months have been the best time of my life. I honestly don’t know what I would do without him.”

“Aww look!” Lorenzo hoots. “He’s blushing!” Your friends had their laugh while you look down into your glass, cheeks red and warm.

“So tell us,” Alfie says once they settle down. “You getting it good in the sack?”

You cough on your drink, nearly spitting all over the bartender. Lorenzo whistles and claps you on the back.

“Our boy has got to be getting it good, right?”

“I… I uh,” you stammer. “I hardly think that's any of your business!”

“Oh come on, mate!” Lorenzo groans. “We tell you about our girlfriends, it’s time you paid us back with some riveting sexploits of your own!”

“I never ask to hear about your sex life, Lorenzo,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder. “You just never shut up about it. ‘Oh Lorenzo, oh oh oh’ Jesus mate, I’ve seen what you’re packing, and it can’t be enough to make her sound like that every night.”

Alife doubles over in laughter while Lorenzo tries to hide his rosy cheeks. He waves over the bartender and orders more beers.

“Why do I have to take all the heat for this?” Lorenzo asks, taking a pint from the bartender. “Alife boasts just as much as I do.”

“Alfie though,” you say, “Alfie’s got quite the member. Must be from his dad’s side.” You and Lorenzo laugh while Alfie feigns offense.

“Y/n, are you insinuating that I have a big dick just cause I’m half black?” Alfie gasps and clutches at an imaginary pearl necklace. “Could that be racism I sense from my dear old friend?”

“Well, you didn’t get it from your mother!” you fire back. “Also, I’ve seen it first hand. Remember when I walked in on you and Sophie last year? I reckon yours is damn near twice as long soft as Lorenzo’s is standing up!”

Alfie burst again into laughter while Lorenzo hangs his head in defeat. You rub his shoulder to let him know you’re just taking the piss, and offer to buy his next drink. Over Lorenzo’s shoulder, you catch the eye of a large man in a wife beater and leather pants at a nearby table. He and his friends are staring at you, and have been for the past few minutes. You peel your eyes away and throw a smile back on your face.

“But really though,” Alfie says, refocusing your attention. “Is he good to you? Doesn’t hurt you, does he? I’ve heard stories about his temper...”

You were touched that Alfie cared so much. You have been friends for years, having met back in middle school. A rumor had spread that you were the son of Al “the Ray”, a notorious Italian mobster who controlled a nice portion of London and had properties all over Central and Southern England. His name comes from the Italian word “re,” which means king. He inherited the many landed properties in England through some old dynastic claims that connected those old families to your ancestors in the Italian nobility. His grandfather, your great-grandfather, started a street gang in London after the First World War. His brother inherited the family lands and fortunes in Italy, so your great-grandfather decided to strike out on his own. Through blood and sweat he carved out a territory for himself in London and called himself “Il Re,” The King. His sons and grandsons expanded, and the kingdom reached its height under your father, Alonzo.

With a family such as that, it was hardly surprising that you did not have many friends growing up. People were too afraid of your father to get close to you, until Alfie. He started sitting with you at lunch, and from then on you were the best of friends. Your father, who had softened somewhat with age, was so delighted to hear you had made a friend that he saw to it that Alfie’s family had protection and money. Alfie was always looking out for you, as you were just as important to him as he was to you.

“No, I think I’ve actually tamed his temper,” you shake your head. “He would never hurt me.  He is so tender and caring, especially the first few times. You know that I’ve never done it before him, so he was sure to be extra careful with me.”

Alfie smiles. “Glad to hear it, mate. Glad to--”

“Oi!” The man at the other table shouts, startling you and your friends. “If you three fags don’t shut up about your cocks, I’ll cut ‘em off and stick ‘em in your mouths.”

The bar falls silent. Everyone shifts their eyes to you three, awaiting your response. The bartender steps in to buy you some time.

“Easy now, friends, I won’t be having a scene in my pub,” he declares. “These young lads are doing no harm, and I won’t have you threatening them.” He gives you a nod.

“Stay out of this, old man,” growls Biker Dude. “Or have you forgotten who runs the place ‘ere?”

A chill runs down your spine. You turn to Lorenzo, who looks equally as terrified. The bikers rise from their table, six in all, and receive some reinforcements from the pool tables, increasing their count to ten. They advance on the bar, taking their time and sizing the three of you up.

“Alfie, you didn’t tell me this pub was in--”

“I didn’t fuckin know it was in Johnny Rast’s territory,” Alfie panics. “I thought his turf started three blocks west. Thought we were still in Holland’s. Shit, I’m sorry mate.”

“Shut up!” Johnny Rast barks. He is only a few feet away now. The rest of the gang stops, but Johnny keeps walking. He leans in a few inches from your face. You can smell the whiskey on his breath. He flips out a switchblade.

“Now, in my pub, we have certain rules about who can and cannot enter,” he explains, sliding the point of the blade up your shirt. “We don’t allow Degos like you and your friend ‘ere. It's hard to get grease stains out of these leather seats.”

You gulp as his men laugh. Lorenzo’s face is as pale as a ghost. 

“We also don’t like fags,” Johnny continues. He brings the point of the blade up to your neck, lightly dragging it over your soft throat and over your jawline. It finally settles in your eye socket, just under the bone. Your eye is closed and he applies light pressure, making you wince. Your heart is thumping so fast you’re sure he can hear it. He gives the knife a twist, threatening to stab out your eye. All it would take is a little more pressure and out it would come.

“Let him go!” Alfie shouts. Loyal, brave, stupid Alfie. Two men near him seize his arms and drag him before Johnny, who pulls the knife away from your eye. You rub it and let out a breath you weren’t aware you’d been holding.

Johnny punches Alfie in the stomach, doubling him over. One of his captors jerks his head back so that he can meet Johnny’s eye.

“You know,” Johnny says, running his thumb along the edge of his knife. “If there’s one thing I hate more than degos and fags, it’s gotta be stinking, half-breed ni--”

Alfie’s head connects with Johnny’s mouth, stopping him from finishing his slur. He slips out of his captors’ grasp and shoves each of them away. He punches Johnny hard across the face and keeps at him. Lorenzo turns and punches the biker nearest him, but is met with a flurry of blows from the other bikers.

You grab your beer mug and toss its contents in the face of a biker in front of you. You shove it into another’s face and smash in some of his teeth. He screams and grabs his mouth, blood and broken glass slipping between his fingers. You kick the dazed and wet biker into the bleeding one, but that is when your element of surprise wears off. The next two bikers block your punch and one shoves his knee into your groin. You shout and fall to the ground, where they rain fists and steel-toed boots onto your writhing body. You can barely make out Alfie get slashed with Johnny’s knife before being thrown to the ground. Kicks came in from every angle. A steel toe hits the bone above your eye, and another shatters a rib. Someone kicks your kidney and you arch your back out of instinct, opening up your balls and belly to more abuse. Every attempt to rise is met with more punishment, and you feel yourself starting to slip from consciousness.

The blows stop at the pump of a shotgun. The bikers look up behind the bar to see the old bartender holding a pump-action 22-gauge bird hunting shotgun. From far away, this wouldn’t do much damage, but up close it’s enough to tear a man’s head from his shoulders.

“I’ll remember this, old man!” Johnny screams. “You don’t have enough shot in there for all of us. You pull that trigger and you’re dead. Leave us to our business.”

“You idiots really don’t know who that is your kicking?”

The bikers look puzzled.

“That’s the Ray’s son you’re beating, and he’s dating Tom Holland. The Tom Holland. Have you not been listening all evening?! Do you have a fucking deathwish?”

The bikers’ eyes widen in shock. They are a small time gang and can in no way challenge Al the Ray and his Italians, and certainly not if the Ray joined forces with the Hollands.

“I--I--I didn’t know,” Johnny stammers, backing away. “Bloody fuck, I’m sorry sirs I didn’t know I didn’t--”

The doors fly open with a crash as a dozen armed men rush into the pub led by a blond haired man a few years older than you. You manage a weak smile at the sight of your friend Harrison Osterfield, Tom’s right-hand man.

“Take the bikers,” he orders. “And bring in petrol. We need to send a message to anyone who thinks they can get away with jumping a Holland, honorary or otherwise.”

“Haz,” you rasp. “Don’t. Bartender...helped us…” you hack up blood, covering yourself and the floor. Haz rushes to your side.

“Y/n, mate, what did they do to you?” He cradles your head in his lap. “Tom’s gonna go ape shit when he sees you like this.”

You snort. “Do whatever to the bikers...leave the pub...bartender...” you throw up “...saved my life…”

“I’m also the one who phoned you lads,” the bartender says.

You hear a groan from your right and see Lorenzo clutching his arm, which is all mangled from his beating. His hair is messed up and his face bruised, but he is well enough to stand with some help. Alfie, on the other hand…

He is lying in a pool of his own blood with a gash across his face. He’s bleeding from multiple head wounds and his hair is matted down with blood.

“Alfie…” you croak. “Alfie get up.”

One of Haz’s men checks on him. “He’s got a pulse, but we need to get him to the Doc ASAP.”

“Get him in a car,” Haz orders. “Gently. Follow us to the manor and get him stitched up. Ryan, help me with Y/n, and Mark, get Lorenzo here to a car. He’s coming with as well.”

Haz and Ryan lift you up and you throw your arms around their shoulders. You can only drag your feet behind you as they move you to one of the black SUV’s parked outside. Haz’s men stuff as many bikers into the trunks of the cars as they can. They’ll receive a different kind of attention where they’re going.

The ride back to the manor was quick, as the Holland gang’s vehicles were escorted by police officers that take bribes from Tom. You rest your head on Harrison's lap, which was now stained with blood and bile.

“Sorry,” you croaked. “I ruined your pants.”

“Hey hey,” he said, gently brushing your hair with his fingers. “It’s not a problem.”

The car is silent for the next few minutes until Haz speaks again.

“Ryan called Harry, who by now has told Tom,” he says. “He’s waiting for you. I’m sure he’ll have your bed all made up for you and Doc will see you as soon as he’s done with your friend.”

You start to cry at the mention of Tom and Alfie.

“Shh shh,” Harrison coos. “Its alright mate, you’re safe now. I got a text from Dan, he says they’ve slowed Alfie’s bleeding. He should be fine once Doc gets to him. You’re safe now. You all are.”

You sniffle and shake your head. “Not that. Tom. I don’t want him t-to see m-me like th-th-this. I’m all battered and weak and I just…”

“Mate, you know Tom loves you. He’ll take care of you. Just hold tight, we’re almost there.”

Holland Manor is a large estate outside the city, fenced in from the road so that unwelcome guests could not enter. The fleet of cars drive past some hills and follow the drive up to the front doors of the manor. An elaborate fountain stands in the green in the center of the driveway loop, and wide stone steps lead to the large double doors of the manor’s entrance. Men hurriedly take Alfie inside to see the Doc, and you’re helped up the stairs.

Tom arrives at the doors just as you reach the last step of the staircase. His face morphs from worried to concerned to angry and back to concerned all in a moment.  He rushes over to you and gently cups your face with his hands, careful to avoid cuts and bruises.

He examines your face. Your left eye is swollen shut. You have a gash on your cheek and forehead that are still oozing blood. Your nose is bent awkwardly and swollen black and blue. Most of your face is bruised or cut, and both of your lips are busted. Your hair is matted with coagulating blood, and your clothes are all torn and dirty. A trickle of blood runs from your right ear down your neck and is slowly coloring your white shirt collar red.

“Tommy…” your hoarse voice cracks and your eyes yet again brim with tears. He takes you in his arms and holds you, muttering “y/n, y/n, y/n.”

He takes Ryan’s place and takes you to his room with Haz’s help. He sets you down on the bed and props your back up with pillows. You’re still crying as he pulls you in for another embrace.

“I got you, love, I got you,” he murmured and kissed your head.

“Erm, Tom,” Harrison says, standing in the doorway. “What should be done about the biker gang?”

Tom turns to his friend, his blood boiling. “I’ll come down there and sort them out.” His hands ball into fists.

You touch his wrist and he softens. “Stay, Tommy. Please. I need you.” You sniffle, tears leaving clean streaks down your bruised and bloody face. Tom returns his attention to you.

“Do what you want,” he says, never taking his eyes off of you. “But leave Rast to me. Also, have Lorenzo identify the ones who did this to my baby. I want them too.”

Haz nods and shuts the door behind him. Tom reaches over to the side table and takes a damp cloth to your face, gently wiping off the dirt and dried blood. He gives a kiss to each area he cleans, and he gently places a kiss to your busted lips. It hurts but you need him, and you deepen the kiss. Tom can taste the blood in your mouth, and he nearly breaks when he runs his tongue over yours, feeling the spot where you had bitten a chunk out of after one of the bikers had kicked your jaw. He breaks the kiss to change into sweats and no shirt, and he carefully removes your shirt as well.

He gasps at the bruises all over your stomach and chest. It was an ugly rainbow of red, blue, purple, yellow, and brown. There was an especially nasty mark left over the bruised and possibly broken rib. “My god, y/n, what did they do to you?”

You recount the whole story, sobbing half the time. Tom pulls you in for a comforting hug, his bare chest warm against your cheek. He kisses the top of your head.

“I’m here now, love,” he coos, letting you sob into his chest. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Please don’t leave me,” you sob. He only holds you tighter.

“I’m not going anywhere, little Prince,” he says, kissing your forehead. You smiled through your tears at his little nickname for you. “I’ve got you.”

“It feels so emasculating,” you sob. “I tried to fight back but I could barely do anything and they just kept kicking me and kicking me an--”

“Shh shh shh. Don’t worry about that now,” Tom said. “I’m with you now, no one is going to hurt you anymore. Listen to me.” He pulled away and gently brushed your tears away with his thumbs. “I’ve got you. I love you, y/n.”

You stared into his caring brown eyes through your own watery ones. You pull him in for a kiss, your body shaking with aftershocks from your previous hysterics.

“Hold me,” you say, burying your head into his chest. He falls back onto the bed, and you cuddle in close to him. He wraps his bare, muscular arms around your battered frame and pulls you close. You can feel his heartbeat through his chest. You place a kiss of gratitude under his collarbone. “Don’t let go. I don’t want to leave.”

“You never have to, love,” he says. “I want you to move in with me. I want to keep you safe, and I need to have you close. Would you like that?”

Your arms squeeze tighter around Tom’s back, soaking in the warmth of his skin. “Yes, Tom. Want you to keep me safe.” You feel yourself starting to cry again, and Tom kisses your head.

“I will. I promise.” The determination and love in his voice were enough to send you to tears once more. Tom starts to hum a soothing tune, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep. The last words you hear before drifting off are a soft “I’ve got you. I love you.”

Tomorrow, Tom would bring hell to the bikers that nearly killed you, starting with the ones who beat you. But tonight, right now, all Tom has on his mind is how much love he has for you and how much he wants to keep you safe. Your father is the feared Il Re, but you are just Tom’s little Principe, and he will do everything in his power to keep you safe.

[aestheticdayxx]

Teachers helper

AN: okay this story is really really crappy but I wrote it super fast out of boredom, it’s nothing special buuuttt enjoy. (P.S: I 100% didn’t proof read this so if it has bad grammar or misspelled words my b 🤷🏻‍♀️)

It was your second year teaching preschool and you were just as excited as you were the first day you started. You’ve always loved children and were great with them so teaching was a breeze. It was almost 7:30 and more parents had started to come in. You only had about a hand full of kids but your three helpers had everything under control, with that you stood by the door and began greeting parents and students as more started to come, some not wanting to leave their parents and others willingly letting go to play as persuaded.

Everything seemed to be going well with the kids until one family caught your eye in particular. A father a little bit down the hall on the floor holding his daughter who was sobbing uncontrollably. They had been there for almost ten minutes and you couldn’t take it any longer.

You made your way done the hall a bit towards the two stopping at a comfortable distance. The young man probably in his early twenties similarly to you noticed your presence and weakly smiled to you. “Annyeonghasseyo” you bowed and he did his best to bow back with his daughter still in his arms. You got down on your knees in front of the girl where she made eye contact with you. “Who might we have here?” You smile at the girl her sobs ceased at the sound of your voice. “Jiyoo, would you like to say hello to miss....?” The father spoke “oh! Miss Y/L/N” you smiled brightly at him, to which he reciprocated with a beautiful smile “Mr. Jung” he said holding his hand out for you to grasp in which you did.

“Jiyoo?” You questioned, the little girl finally lifted her head from her fathers chest to properly look at you. “Do you wanna come inside and play with me?” You asked as softly as you could but she only buried her face back into his chest and slightly shook her head ‘no’. You frowned “no? You don’t wanna leave daddy?” You softly asked again which she looked at you and gave a small nod, to which caused her father to chuckle lightly and smirk showing his dimples. You quickly looked away from the man as although he was attractive this wasn’t about him but in the mean time you had noticed Jiyoo’s light pink hello kitty shoes giving you an idea. More of a last resort. “Jiyoo?!” You gasped, causing both her and her father to look up at you “you like hello kitty?!” You asked pointing to her shoes. She smiled widely and gave a small ‘uh-huh’. “ what if I told you I have a hello kitty coloring book that could be yours huh? Do you like coloring?” She nodded, ecstatic at the idea. “Well come on its inside!” You held your and out to her which she happily took. You both stood up together allowing her father to now stand which caused Jiyoo to stop in her tracks. Before Jiyoo could begin to protest again you reminded her that he would be back very very soon and that you would be there with her until he got back. She relaxed a little and made her way to give her dad one last hug before running back to you happily. Mr. Jung bowed giving a quick thank you before heading out while you and Jiyoo went into the class.

The days became easier and easier to go through and Jiyoo began loving coming to school, or at least to see you. It had just turned 7 when you heard the pitter patter of feet come down the hall. You made your way out the classroom to scold whichever child was running in the hall when you saw Jiyoo running towards you “MISS Y/N/L!!” She said jumping into your arms. “oh my sweet Jiyoo! How are you this morning?” You smiled to her forgetting the scolding.“gggooooodddd~” she sang. You were just about to ask where her father was when he came down the hall.

“JIYOO?! JIYOO WHERE ARE YOU?!” He shouted before turning towards the two of you, his body physically relaxing at the sight of Jiyoo in your arms. He made his way toward you both. You attempted to say hello but before you had the chance to Jiyoo held your face in her hands and had you giggling in no time. “Jiyoo.. you know better than to run off like that” her father stated snapping us both out of our giggling fit. She pouted and lowered her head “but daddy I wanted to see miss y/l/n” she said giving him puppy dog eyes “yes I know but we still don’t run off okay?” He asked and she softly nodded. You were slightly confused as to why Mr. Jung hadn’t scolded her more for running off but you didn’t press it and you said your goodbyes.

“Okay class! We all love our families right?” You asked receiving a chorus of “Ne!” From your students “we love our mommies and daddies, siblings and grandparents of course. So today we’re gonna draw our family’s and write what you love about them okay?” You said more than asked. Your helper Chaeryeong passed out the papers to all the students as well as crayons. Everything went well, you both made your way around the class helping students spell out things or admiring their work.

You we’re just about to go to your desk when you caught the sight of Chaeryeong trying to comfort a crying Jiyoo. You rushed over to the girls without causing a scene “Jiyoo honey, what’s wrong?” You questioned and her desk mate/ best friend answered confidently stating “Jiyoo is sad because she doesn’t have a mommy miss y/l/n!”.

Your eyes widened at the statement. “Thank you Mihi” you smiled to her. “Chae would you please do me a favor and call Mr.Jung, his number is on her emergency card, tell him it’s not an emergency but the sooner the better” you asked Chaeryeong to which she gave a short “yes ma’am”.

You brought Jiyoo to the helpers table in the back of the room and sat her in your lap where she clung onto you and began crying harder. Your heart broke at the sound of her soft sobs, ones similar to the first day you had met but these were filled with more sorrow than sadness. “Jiyoo baby?.. you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” You said trying to get a look at her face “I d-don’t have a m-mom-my” she hiccuped and continued to cry “aww baby there’s nothing wrong with not having a mommy” you tried to comfort her but she made a quick rebuttal “yes t-there is.. I-I’m the only one with n-no mommy” she said beginning to relax a little but still crying. You felt so bad and you didn’t know what to say to the poor girl. You had always noticed that only her father would bring her to school and pick her up but you had never made any connections till now. Chaeryeong made her way back stating that he was on his way and offered to distract Jiyoo in the mean time to which you obliged and made your way to your desk to fill out an incident report to the school therapist.

About 20 minutes later Mr.Jung rushes through the doors tripping over his own feet slightly in the mean time causing you to giggle which caught his attention. You stood and bowed “please, take a seat” you said to which he did. “What’s wrong with Jiyoo? Is she okay? Did something bad happen?” He quickly questioned as soon as he took the seat across from you. You smiled softly at him “she’s alright now, she’s in the back with Chaeryeong.. she didn’t wanna play outside with the rest for lunch today” you said pointing to the two girls in the back playing with clay. He looked at them and smiled before turning his attention back to you. “So what happened?” He questioned worry consuming his face. “Well Mr. Jung I-“ “please call me Jaehyun , Mr. Jung makes me feel old” he laughed showing you that lovely smile that graced his face. “Same here actually” you chuckled lightly “but it’s part of my job so I can’t get around it” “what is your first name.. if you don’t mind me asking?” “Y/n” you smiled at him to which he returned the favor “y/n..how unique”. You got lost in examining his perfectly structured features before snapping out of it and mumbling a ‘thank you’.

“Jaehyun.. I know this isn’t any of my business and I would never bring this up if it weren’t an issue....” his head tilted slightly to the side, eyebrows furrowing together. You sighed “ today we did an assignment on our families and it really got to Jiyoo about her mother to the point where she was crying” you said softly trying not to let your heart break again at the thought of your little Jiyoo being sad. Jaehyun’s face quickly fell and he looked towards the ground. You made a bold decision and softly grabbed Jaehyun’s hand expecting him to pull away but he didn’t. “Jaehyun, I’m not asking for you to tell me your past but-“ “no it’s okay” he said quickly cutting you off, looking back up at you. “Jiyoo’s mother really didn’t want anything to do with her from the start..only I did. The night we brought her home her mother left. Didn’t say where she was going, didn’t take anything with her.. but we were sure she left the country. I’ve taken care of Jiyoo the best I could since” he smiled weakly at you “I’ve tried finding a mother to take care and love Jiyoo but she’s hated everyone I’ve brought home” he said taking a look over his shoulder at his daughter. “Jae..I’m so sorry..” you said your throat tight as tears formed in your eyes, he lightly squeezed your hand before giving an ‘it’s okay’. “Look, I know there isn’t much we can do about the situation but with your permission I’d like to send Jiyoo to the school therapist a few times a week.. there’s no promises but it may help her.” You asked to which he agreed.

Just as you were about to ask another question the bell rang signaling the end of lunch. “There’s only about three more hours left of school, if you’d like you and Jiyoo may go home” “ah- I was actually wondering if I could stay here with her.. kind of observe?” He questioned and you weren’t about to deny the man so you let him stay.

The rest of the day went smoothly. The kids ended up loving Jaehyun and had him participate in everything they did and he helped you out with anything he possibly could, from reading the kids a book to helping clean he tables off once school ended which helped you tons because it usually took you an extra two or three hours to clean the whole room but with his and Jiyoo’s help it lessened the time down to an hour or so which allowed you to start your weekend a lot sooner than usual.

“Thank you Jaehyun, it means so much to me, all that you did” you said pulling on your outdoor shoes. “It’s no problem y/n, really” he smiled that gorgeous smile showing his dimples as he laced up Jiyoo’s hello kitty shoes. “Daddy?” Jiyoo quietly asked “hm, yes baby?” Jaehyun responded making the last knot in her laces. “Can Miss y/l/n have dinner with us?” She asked her eyes bright and hopeful as she looked at her dad. Jaehyun stuttered caught off guard by the bold question “well I uh- I mean- she uhm-“ he laughed nervously picking Jiyoo up and grabbing her backpack, a blush creeping onto his face. “I-I’m sure miss y/l/n wouldn’t wanna do tha-“ “I’d love to” you cut Jae off from his rambling with a bright smile. His head shot up to look at you with wide eyes “you would?” He questioned in shock “of course, anything for my little Jiyoo” you winked at her causing her to happily squirm in her dads arms and reach for you which you gladly took her from Jaehyun as he still stood there shocked.

“Come on daddy! Let’s eat!” Jiyoo said before you two headed out the school into the parking lot in venture for Jae’s car.

[creaturedom]

Miscalculation (Part 2)

Hope you guys enjoy this as much as part one, cause it was just as fun to write~. Please remember to not reblog this outside of sneeze blogs and enjoy!

[Part One]

“What’s this now?”

“Please, it’s an emergency, you have to come quickly! I— I can’t explain much more than that, but please hurry over!”

That’s about as far as the conversation went today. Crowley was in the middle of a talk with his plants when he received a call from Aziraphale, all out of breath and more panicked than usual. As far as the demon could remember he was off at the Young’s home, but there shouldn’t have been any issues over there of all places.

“Bahh...” He leaned in real close to a quivering Ficus, his face contorting to into a snarl as hissed “Don’t think this the end of this conversation, nor have I forgotten your treason,” The others shook faster as his head snapped in their direction “AND INSPECTION’S NOT OVER FOR YOU LOT NEITHER!” Then, in a flash, the demon was gone. And in the Ficus’ pot, one more leaf fluttered down and lay beside its one fallen brother.

Now, Crowley had learned to take these “emergencies” a bit more seriously since the end of the world nonsense. Normally he would have loved a ride to the countryside, speeding in his beloved Bentley, but Aziraphale’s tone made him put that desire aside. Didn’t mean he didn’t have the right to be a tad wary of just how urgent this emergency seemed to be though. He appeared in the townsquare of Tadfield, both hands laying idol in his pockets as he looked around, eyebrows raised and lips puckered as if to ask ‘Where’s the fuss?’ But, there was nothing. People walking their dogs, little butterflies in the air, children giggling... Just as overbearingly perfect as Crowley could remember. That being said he took this time to take a stroll to Adam’s home, not necessarily angry with the angel, but a little bitter at the very least for the fast commute.

Didn’t take long to reach the overgrown home, Crowley squinting up at the doorway from the safety of the front gate to see the old scorched horseshoe still hanging proudly. “You’d think they’d take the damn thing down by now..” He muttered before cupping both hands at the sides of his mouth “Angel! M’here!” There was a distinct clatter from inside and it took a minute before he saw that familiar face. Or, rather, part of it.

It seemed he wrapped a white bandana around the lower half of his face, eyes a bit puffy as if he were crying, and he didn’t look quite as composed as usual. He still lit up though as the demon held out his arms out at his sides and raised his eyebrows “So? Where’s the fire, Angel?”

“Y-Yes- right this way-!” Aziraphale ducked into the house, about a minute of silence passing before he poked his head out again “Crowley..?” The demon couldn’t do much more than gesture to the horseshoe, shrugging his shoulders “Oh come now, isn’t that just for lower level evil? Please I...” He paused to scrub his eyes, but it didn’t seem like he was sobbing his eyes out “I really need your help in here!”

“Okay one, I think you missed the gangster trend by a couple decades, and two: that’s for all evil. I don’t make the rules, and the one kid who sometimes does is unfortunately unavailable, so unless you just tell me or bring it here...” He couldn’t help but smirk at the little frustrated crinkle of the angel’s nose under the thick bandana, and the small stamp of his foot. There was something so charming about him losing his temper, albeit in short bursts such as this. Nevertheless Aziraphale ducked into the home once more and eventually came out with Dog, who he did his best to hold at arms length out in front of him.

Crowley tilted his head at this as his mouth hung slightly open with a scowl. As far as he knew Aziraphale loved dogs, and didn’t seem to be bothered by this particular one before, so this whole thing was quite odd. When he was safely beyond the gate Aziraphale attempted to shove him at Crowley, who jumped but managed to hold out a hand to stop it “No, no way, I don’t want it’s hair on my suit.”

“Crowley please, just take him!”

“What’s your deal, I’m not holding the damn hellhound, you hold em!”

“I can’t- I—I neehhhhd t—to—!” His eyes were fluttering again as a few ragged breaths escaped. He wasn’t thinking clearly as he instinctively tucked Dog closer to his chest and turned his head to the side, a couple tears shedding with one more sharp gasp “HhIH’TSCHhhuu! Hah’tSCHhhu! Hih.. Hih...! G’TSCHXX!” Crowley blinked in surprise at the display, even winced at just how harsh and wet they sounded.

“Uh... Compromise..?” He managed to pluck Dog from Aziraphale’s grasp as two more painful sneezes tumbled out and placed him at their feet, clicking his tongue as an order for the hellhound to follow while the demon began leading the angel away from the house. He made sure to wrap an arm around the others shoulders while he grasped Aziraphale’s left shoulder to sort of brace him as they walked to a nearby bench. Crowley waited patiently for the next waist bending sneeze to strike before guiding the other to sit beside him. Only trouble was it seemed the hellhound insisted on sitting right between them, and worse still against the angel. The demon tried to command Dog to stay down, but after a few tries it seemed this wasn’t going to happen. “The fuck is with him?”

“Guhh, he’s followidg orders...” Aziraphale rasped, taking a moment to take off the bandana and blow his nose with a terrible gurgle. He sounded so stuffed up, and Crowley couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen him such a mess. The usual arm draped behind the back of the bench came up to rub Aziraphale’s back a bit more tenderly than usual until he was ready to speak “Adam commanded that he be good and stay as close to me as possible until he returned. And at first it was rather endearing, and he truly is a wonderful little dog, but s-soon I- hiiih- I-I came out like- like-!” He took in a few sharp gasps but right before the tickle could hit full force the demon had reached over and pinched his nose shut. It wasn’t the best feeling to lose such a big sneeze, but the angel shuttered with a sigh of relief and looked over to Crowley with a pitiful look in his red eyes.

“Like Rudolph, I get it.” He did smile at the other though when he pulled his hand back he wiped it on Aziraphale’s coat, which earned an exasperated sigh. “Oof, that is rough, isn’t it? I always figured the higher ups would do you in before anyone down here, but..”

“Crowley, be serious! I don’t know what to do, I’ve been like th... Nghh, this for hours, it won’t stop! I don’t understand, I’ve always been wonderful with dogs, they love me as much as I love them.”

“Buuut, this isn’t a dog.”

“I beg your pardon?” Crowley smiled and brought his hand up to brush a few curls back on Aziraphale’s head “Dog is only named after your favorite little things. He’s still a hellhound, bred in the very depths of hell where yours truly had to be, and therefore..”

“Th... Therefore..?”

“... Really? Nothing?” He sighed and crossed his legs “Aziraphale, think of the stupid phrase: Dog is just God spelled backwards. A dog is the creation of the big Miss upstairs, but a hellhound is made specifically by the devil himself... It makes sense that a regular dog wouldn’t cause all this to happen, but this unfortunately isn’t part of your lot.” This prompted him to at least pat Dog on the head, an amused smile painting his lips “Nooo no, he’s from my lot, no matter how good he’s become. That being said, we can conclude that..?” He looked over expectantly, only to find Aziraphale’s attention was snapped away.

He was just sitting there gasping, the bandana in hand and waiting for him to shove his bright red nose into it. It seemed no matter how wide his nostrils flared and how big a breath he sucked in that his face was stuck in a contorted state, and the sneeze would not break the surface. Crowley hated to see the other in such a state, but there was only one thing he could think to do to help “Sorry, Angel..” He leaned in to place a kiss on Aziraphale’s cheek before quickly snatching Dog and shoving him into the angel’s face. Both of them to let out a yelp of surprise, but Crowley kept the hellhound there until he saw the angel’s head bob back, mouth wide and nose scrunched tight, and yanked Dog out of the way just in time for Aziraphale to bury his face fully into the thick cloth.

“Hih’ptschh- hihtschh- dtSCHH- Huh’PTSCHH-!” Crowley wrapped both arms around him as he managed to take one shaken breath “G’TSSCHhhhh! Hah’tTSCHHhh! I-I can’t-dTSCchh! Can’t stohihHTSCHHHhh!” At least by now Dog had jumped off the bench, but Crowley stayed right where he was. He grimaced as sneeze after sneeze tumbled out, each time shaking his frame and tearing through his throat. He wasn’t sure how long the fit had managed to last, and truth be told it didn’t matter to Crowley. All he knew was that it took far too long to stop, and by the end of it Aziraphale was hanging limp in his arms.

Comfort really wasn’t his forte, but he held the other close, meeting each lingering hitching of breath with a stroke of that soft curly hair and insisting that he take his time to get it together. Eventually he managed to regain enough energy to blow his nose again and sit up, albeit quite unsteadily, and let his head hang back as he felt some breath return to his lungs “Oooh... Crowley, what am I going to do...?”

“Abandon it, come back to my place?” Aziraphale shot him a weary look “I’m serious! You’re allergic to the damn thing, how are you gonna take care of it if you end up like this each time, huh?” There was a pause between them, Aziraphale’s eyes shifting to that of a pleading look “... No- no no noo, no way, I refuse.”

“Crowley please...” he brought the bandana higher to cover a small cough and leaned against the demon’s chest. He could see the pink hue start to caress Crowley’s cheeks, and Aziraphale couldn’t help trying to nestle closer as exhaustion took hold. “I don’t know what to do, I promised he’d be safe in my care, I can’t hiih... Can’t let Adam down..” Again, a pause between the two. Crowley really, really hated being put into such a position, and so easily at that. His leg bounced in place a moment before his eyebrows raised once more and he patted the angel’s shoulder. “... Comprise, Angel.”

“What..?” He looked up blearily as the hiss of breaks caught his attention, rubbing his eyes with a dryer half of the bandana until he saw the words ‘London’ colorfully illuminated on a bus sign.

“Compromise.”

[Part Three]

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 36

Written by: Sol, Allegra Edited by: Beth, Allegra, Sol

“Nick, calm down.”

Nick felt a hand on his leg once again and opened his eyes to see that he was furiously kicking and thrashing. The only difference from last time was that this kicking and thrashing wasn’t purposeful, and it didn’t feel good at all. And it wouldn’t stop. Nick did everything in his power to calm his flailing legs, but he couldn’t. He had never felt so helpless. His arms thrashed out at his sides. Where was Alex? He arched off the bed, gagging as his breathing tube shifted. His blanket came undone and dropped to the floor. He felt himself sliding towards the edge of the bed to join it.

“Nick!” He felt hands on both of his legs now, and a hand on either arm. Through his half-lidded eyes he saw three nurses, doing their best to restrain him as his legs kicked out and convulsed wildly. His arms thrashed violently now, the IVs in his forearms nearly ripping out of his skin. After a few minutes, Nick felt his body slowing down, suddenly crashing from his wild attack. His head lolled to the side as he felt hands adjusting his breathing tube, gently bringing him back to reality. His head was spinning and he couldn’t stop tears escaping from his eyes.

Two of the nurses talked in hushed voices at the doorway, glancing back at Nick occasionally. Finally, after a few moments, they returned to Nick’s side.

“You’re going to have a brain scan later,” the blonde nurse said. “We need you awake for it, so we’re going to take you off the sedatives for now.”

Nick couldn't even find the strength to nod, so he simply looked at her, hoping she understood.

She put the communication board on Nick’s lap. “Would you like to do anything while we’re waiting to do the brain scan? Your friends are art students, right? Would you like to draw?”

Yes.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Don’t leave. Don’t leave.

“Ah…” She glanced around the room and spotted the notebook that was still sitting on the counter from when Alex was writing in it a few days before. “Is this ok?”

Yes. Thank you.

Nick held the notebook close, and as soon as the nurse left he opened it to a blank page. He grabbed the pen next to him and just started writing. He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they needed to get out. His arms jerked and twitched as he wrote, but he tried to fight it. This was important.

When he finished, he folded the letter with shaky hands and laid it on the bedside table, not even bothering to read it over. He had barely placed the pen on the table before his head fell back and he drifted off to sleep, all of his energy gone. All he could hope was that Alex would understand.

A couple of hours later, Nick awoke to a hand on his arm and a gentle voice calling his name. He opened his eyes slowly to the information that they were taking him back for the brain scan. His leg kicked out again.

“It won’t hurt, and it won’t take long,” the nurse reassured him. Nick closed his eyes again, trying to believe her.

—

Alex found the neurology office fairly easily. It was a small room in a distant hallway, far from anything Alex had seen in the hospital before. So many people are suffering here. Is Nick one of the worst? Alex shook the thought and entered the small office when he was called.

“Hi, Alex,” the doctor said when he went in. Her calming energy immediately made Alex feel more at ease.

Alex greeted her and sat down at the desk, not knowing what to say. “Is Nick alright?” he finally managed, fiddling with one of the pens on the desk.

“Well, it doesn’t appear that the kicking and thrashing were anything more than a bad reaction to the sedatives. His reaction increased when they gave him more, and so on.”

“Why did he react like that?”

“Here.” The doctor showed Alex the scan of Nick’s brain. “He has a bit of damage to the language processing and speech areas of his brain, as well as some executive functions like decision making and general cognition. Has he ever mentioned that to you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Alex realized, “he had a different lung injury before all of this and said he had some brain damage from a lack of oxygen.”

“That explains it, then. Does he act normal, usually?”

Alex thought for a moment. “He does have some unusual behaviors, but… he doesn’t need to be normal. He’s perfect to me.”

“Unusual behaviors?” The doctor leaned closer to Alex. “Can you tell me what you mean?”

“Uhh…” Alex felt uncomfortable talking about Nick’s issues with a complete stranger, when he wasn’t there to speak up for himself. “Well, he has bad dreams a lot...he’s stolen some things before...he has trouble reading and speaking, and he doesn’t always make eye contact when he’s talking to someone new.” Alex paused, then continued with a sigh. “Nick told me that it all started with the initial brain damage that he got from being shot. He doesn’t really have any physical issues, though.”

The doctor nodded. “All of that definitely could be connected to how he reacted. We think the thrashing was caused by a reaction with the part of his brain that controls movement. Rather than turning off, like it usually does with sedatives, it tried to reject them. Because of that, his body didn’t want to accept the sedatives.”

“Oh…” Alex nodded along thoughtfully and pretended to understand what the neurologist was telling him.

“The good news is that he’s been off the sedatives for a few hours now and he’s doing perfectly fine! You’re allowed to go see him now, if you’d like.”

Alex beamed and thanked the neurologist as he left the small office.

—

Alex walked into Nick’s room to find him fast asleep. He smiled when he saw that the IV giving him sedatives had been removed. He walked over to Nick and brushed the hair off his forehead. Nick stirred at the touch and his eyes lit up when he realized that it was Alex. He lifted his right arm and stretched it out as far as he could, smacking his palm against the bedside table. Alex blinked in confusion for a moment before he noticed the folded paper atop the table. “Is this for me?” he asked. Nick gave him a weak thumbs up of approval.

At that moment, a nurse rushed in, saying something about needing to check on Nick. She rushed Alex out of the room before he could even ask Nick about the piece of paper.

Once he was alone in the hallway, Alex unfolded the piece of paper. He held it gently, trying to decipher Nick’s messy handwriting.

--

A lex

Thank you so much for putting up with me Im sory you have to see me like this It hurts a lot so bad and Im scared but pleas dont worry I cant wait to go home and pet Steckrübe again and Play music again but not do anyt hin g dumb this time Because I Ive learned now maybe I shouldnt stage dive until they tell me its okay

But right now it hurts I want to go home but they wont let me I want t o get up but they won’t let me I Miss being able to speak I dont feel like I have a body anmore it just hurts so much But  when youre here I forget You make me happy  Please bring Steck next time I miss him

I’m sorry I didn't listen to you I feel like a bad Flatmate Im sory I cant do anthing to help you out

Im scared I wont get better it Hurts it hurts and I dont know why it hurts so much I still cant breathe Im Scared I wont be able to

My body is kicking thrashing I cant stop it wont stop Im so   tired but I cant sleep it wont Help Im terrified

You saved me

I want to be with you Im sorry I couldnt tell you that niht  it hurt too bad I want to be yours

I love you so much Alex Ive loved you from the first night you Visited me at the prisonn You accept me ffor who I am and you ne ver get mad at me Evn when I deserve it I deseve it 

Thank you Than k you Thank you for saving me I love you I love you I love you Alex I love you

--

Alex braced himself against the wall, trembling as he clutched the paper. Nick loves me. He meant it the other day. And I didn’t listen.

Alex folded the piece of paper again and ran back into the room as soon as the nurse left. The heart monitor started beeping faster than Alex had ever seen it beep before as he approached Nick’s bed. He laughed softly and believed for a moment that Nick was giving a small smile as well. Was he? Maybe it was just the lighting. Alex ignored the beeping and held Nick’s hand. “I love you too,” he said softly. “So much. And you're going to get better.” Alex ran a hand through Nick’s hair. “And I’m sorry for trying to talk about our relationship when you were in so much pain. I should have known better.” Nick started furiously tapping the I love you box on his board, blinking back tears as he looked up at Alex.

Suddenly, a nurse rushed into the room. “Is everything alright in here?” she asked, obviously concerned by the sudden, rapid beeping. Alex dropped Nick’s hand, instantly brought back to the reality of the situation as he remembered the condition Nick was in. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t form the words.

“Just…don't get him overexcited, yeah?” the nurse sighed as Nick’s heart rate slowed back to normal. “He’s still in critical condition and we want him to make it out alive, after all.”

“Alright,” Alex said sheepishly. The nurse gave him a stern look and walked out.

Nick’s eyes were bright, but he wasn’t smiling. He couldn’t. There was no way he could do anything more than move his eyes and his hands. He still had to make it out of the hospital alive before Alex could even think about the future. Was it better to be hopeful or to prepare himself for the worst?

Alex looked back down at Nick and realized that his eyes were still so full of love, searching for an answer from Alex, an answer neither of them could find.

“I love you, Nick,” Alex ran his hand through Nick’s hair, “I really do.”

[almostafantasia]

Lancelot (4/14)

Lexa Woods, an impeccably dressed British secret agent for the covert Kingsman organisation, whose latest mission sees her sneaking through the corridors of the White House in the middle of the night, finds herself having to seduce the daughter of the newly elected President of the United States in a bid to save the world. It’s a surprise to Lexa when she ends up falling for her target as fast as she does, meanwhile Clarke doesn’t expect her gorgeous date for an international political gala dinner to drag her into a world of thrill and danger where one wrong move could cause a global disaster.

a clexa kingsman au | chapter 4/14 read on ao3

It takes Lexa a few seconds to register that Clarke Griffin is talking to her, though she has no idea what has just been said.

“Pardon?”

Clarke smiles as she takes a couple of steps closer, then repeats, “I asked if you could point me towards the bathroom.”

Lexa exhales in relief. In her surprise at seeing Clarke, she had forgotten that she is dressed as a Secret Service agent, and when she processes Clarke’s question, Lexa realises that although Clarke has caught her sneaking through the hallways of the White House in the dead of night, Clarke doesn’t yet know it. Lexa’s disguise has passed yet another test, though her nerves remain sky-high as Clarke watches and waits for an answer to her question.

Rather unhelpfully, Anya, who is getting a live feed onto a laptop of everything that Lexa can see through her special glasses, chooses that moment to speak up.

“Oh, she’s pretty, isn’t she?” teases Anya, and Lexa hates how well Anya knows her, even when they aren’t physically together. “Don’t let yourself get distracted, Lancelot.”

“Shut up,” Lexa growls through clenched teeth.

Only too late, Lexa remembers that she isn’t alone, and that she’s just spoken aloud in a hallway with only one other person. A person who is going to think that Lexa is talking to her.

“Sorry, what?” frowns Clarke.

“Oh! Not you! Just … a voice in my head.” Lexa realises that her attempt at backtracking is only making her seem like more of a crazy person, and she desperately tries to claw back some of her dignity as she adds, “Telling me to get back to work, when clearly I should be helping you.”

If she wasn’t in the middle of a high stakes mission and relying on Anya’s intel for support, Lexa would pluck the earpiece out of her ear, drop it onto the carpeted floor, and grind it under the heel of her shoe. She’s pretty sure that Clarke must think she’s clinically insane, and the laughter that she can hear through the earpiece as Anya takes joy in Lexa’s discomfort is only making Lexa feel more on edge.

To Lexa’s relief, Clarke doesn’t seem to take notice of the actual words, instead the way that they are spoken.

“Wait, you’re British?” she asks confusedly.

The question takes Lexa by surprise, and her brain momentarily forgets how to work.

“Am I? I mean,” Lexa sighs, about ready to throw herself out of one of the windows that lines the hallway, prepared to face the wrath of the guards and the snipers on the roof outside if it means escaping her current situation, then takes a deep breath to compose herself before she continues, “I am. Yes. British. Me.”

In her ear, Anya’s laughter intensifies and turns into what Lexa can only describe as a cackle.

“I’m sorry,” apologises Lexa, sure that her cheeks must be fiery red. “I’m making a terrible first impression.”

Clarke regards her with curiosity, her eyes scanning the entire length of Lexa’s body, from Lexa’s head right down her Secret Service disguise to her feet.

“Not entirely.”

Anya falls oddly silent for a few seconds, then exhales softly, “What the fuck?”

The surprise is mirrored in Lexa. Though she knows she’s not unattractive and she’s certainly no stranger to a pretty girl, it normally takes a little more effort than staring stupidly and tripping over her own words to charm somebody. Perhaps Clarke is still half-asleep, and this entire interaction is one that she won’t be able to recall in the morning.

Her confidence boosted slightly, and remembering that she still has a mission to carry out that relies on her not being outed as an intruder by anybody that she comes across, Lexa keeps up the guise of being a White House security guard as she takes a few steps forward to Clarke and offers out her hand.

“Lexa,” she introduces herself. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Griffin.”

Clarke takes Lexa’s hand tentatively, then rolls her eyes as she says, “Ugh, call me Clarke, please. ‘Miss Griffin’ make me sound way more important than I actually am.”

“Clarke,” Lexa nods. “Of course.”

Anya’s voice in her ear is a most unwelcome introduction, as she says, “You’re on a mission, Lexa. Don’t let the pretty girl make you forget that.”

Lexa wishes once again that she could get rid of the earpiece and remove Anya from the situation entirely, though she reluctantly has to admit that her fellow agent has a very good point. If she continues like this, they’re never going to get to the bottom of the security breaches at the White House and the President’s life could be in danger, and the lives of those around her, including the girl standing right in front Lexa.

Thankfully, Clarke also has a more pressing thing on her mind.

“Anyway, bathroom?” she asks Lexa, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Isn’t this your house?” Lexa asks in amusement.

“Not really,” answers Clarke, with a small shrug. “I’ve been away at college. Tonight is actually my first night here. And I could have sworn it was a left out of my room to the bathroom but apparently not.”

“Bathroom,” Lexa says aloud as she desperately tries to recall where the bathroom is, though her study of the White House’s floor plan earlier on in the day focused on the location of offices and security personnel, rather than its hygiene facilities. Coming up short, she repeats, this time in a slightly urgent growl that is for Anya’s benefit, “Bathroom.”

“Oh, right!” comes Anya’s voice in Lexa’s ear, and Lexa knows that Anya has got the hint and will be using the floor plan on her laptop to guide Lexa in the right direction so that she can get Clarke out of the way and complete the mission unimpeded by pretty girls and their dangerous allure. “Bathroom. Go back where you came from. Second door on the right.”

Lexa relays the instructions to Clarke, who smiles her thanks, but Clarke barely has the chance to take a single step before a third voice speaks up from the end of the hallway.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be up here!”

It’s a guard, a real member of the Secret Service, slowly stalking towards them. His eyes are on Lexa, not Clarke, and she tries to keep herself calm and focuses on the fact that she doesn’t look like an intruder.

Putting on the American accent again, Lexa says, “Just showing Miss Griffin to the bathroom.”

Beside her, Clarke looks at her inquisitively and asks, “Your accent?”

Lexa can feel the mission start to crumble around her, echoed by the hitch of Anya’s breath through the earpiece. If she can just keep Clarke on her side for long enough to sweet-talk the guard out of the way, then maybe all won’t be lost.

“Just go with it,” Lexa mutters under her breath so that only Clarke can hear her. “Please?”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrow into a hardened frown as she tries to figure out what Lexa’s game is, and whether Lexa is worth protecting against the people who are paid to keep Clarke and her family safe. Clarke weighs it up for a few long seconds, during which the guard continues to move closer, before she finally seems to agree.

“It’s my fault,” Clarke turns to tell the guard. “I got lost and asked Lexa to show me the way to the bathroom.”

“Lexa?”

Only too late, Lexa realises Clarke’s slip up. Her heart stops in her chest. This is the most tense moment of Lexa’s entire life.

Hearing the entire exchange, Anya realises that the mission is plummeting south too.

“Shit!” hisses Anya. “Lancelot, get out of there. Abort mission. Abort!”

“There’s no Lexa that works here,” continues the guard.

At this stage, Lexa realises that her persona is busted. She needs to stall for long enough to get out of here, and fast. There’s no time to worry about the fact that she hasn’t made it to the security office yet - there’s always Anya’s backup plan of attempting to externally hack into the White House security. What Lexa needs right now is to escape from this current predicament before she finds herself unable to leave.

“I’m new,” Lexa improvises, hoping with every ounce of her being that this guy isn’t too high up in the White House security team. “Last minute replacement for that guy who got sick.”

The guard reaches for the walkie talkie attached to the front of his jacket and presses a button as he says, “I need backup on the upper floor.”

Lexa absently remembers the tampon in the pocket of her jacket and wonders dumbly if hurling it into the security guard’s face might provide a split second distraction and allow her to make an escape.

Beside her, Clarke exhales dumbfoundedly and asks, her voice laced with a mixture of confusion and awe, “Who the fuck even are you?”

Lexa has a strange feeling in her gut, one telling her that she could explain the entire situation to Clarke and still have the girl on her side, helping her to execute the perfect escape. But unfortunately there just isn’t the time. The guard has already reached for his gun and Lexa knows that more just like him will be on the way, ready to shoot at Lexa first and ask questions later if she doesn’t get out of here now.

“I’m sorry we got off to a weird start,” Lexa says to Clarke, wishing that she had gone against her better judgement and decided to bring a gun of her own, despite not particularly wanting to use it on White House staff, especially when the President herself could be around. “For the record, I think you’re really pretty.”

“Lexa, now is not the time,” comes Anya’s frantic voice in Lexa’s ear. “Get out of there!”

“What’s going on?” says another new voice, this one behind them. “Clarke?”

Lexa turns around slowly to face the newcomer, though she recognises the voice from months of political campaigning televised around the globe. Lexa’s worst fears are correct - President Abigail Griffin is walking towards Lexa, wrapped in a silky dressing gown that covers her pyjamas, and flanked by two more armed Secret Service agents.

There’s no way out now.

“Well, it’s been nice knowing you,” comes Anya’s voice through the earpiece.

In one last ditch attempt, Lexa decides that maybe sweet-talking the President will get her out of the stickiest situation of her entire career as an agent.

“Madam President,” says Lexa, inclining her head out of respect. “What an honour. Can I start by saying what a huge fan I am of-?”

Lexa doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence because she is suddenly overcome with the most crippling pain she has ever experienced in her life, perhaps even worse than the knee injury she sustained when she was eighteen. She tries to move her arms instinctively, wanting to curl up into a ball to protect herself from the mysterious source of the pain but it’s like her body won’t respond. All Lexa can do is let her body fall to the carpeted floor. Lexa doesn’t even know if she cries out in pain, or if the screaming is just happening in her head, begging for it all to be over.

Lexa doesn’t know how long the pain lasts for, but it feels like an eternity. When it’s finally over, and Lexa is nothing more than a limp body on the floor, aware of her surroundings but limbs too numb to move, she realises that the first guard to find them is standing over her with a stun gun in his hand, and that he must have shot the probes into Lexa’s back while she was facing the President.

“Clarke,” gasps out Lexa, as two other guards bundle on top of Lexa and roll her onto her front, pinning her arms together behind her back and locking a pair of handcuffs around her wrist with a metallic click.

As Lexa is hauled to her feet and the guards start to drag her away down the hallway, all she can focus on is the way that Clarke watches her go, eyes full of curiosity.

Lexa doesn’t know how long she’s been wasting away in a jail cell. There are no windows, only a heavy iron door with a slot that a tray of barely edible food gets passed through three times a day, and the flickering bulb that hangs from the ceiling hasn’t been turned off since she was thrown in here and left to wallow in her own shame however long ago it was.

Lexa would hazard a guess that it can’t have been much longer than a day, and certainly no longer than two, but with no form of entertainment, nothing but four plain walls and her own miserable thoughts, it feels like an eternity since she last saw daylight.

The cell is uninspiring. There’s a bench set into the back wall, upon which lies the world’s thinnest mattress - if it can even be called a mattress. Lexa has tried and failed to get some sleep on it, but slumber has evaded her. It’s probably not entirely the bed’s fault though. The lone bulb is yellow in colour, and it flickers in a way that became annoying after barely two minutes in this cell. The only other object in the room is a bucket, and though Lexa waited as long as possible before relieving herself into it, the urge to piss eventually became too strong and the cell hasn’t smelt quite the same since.

God knows how Lexa will cope if she needs a dump before she gets moved out of this cell.

It’s not the worst cell she’s been in - that particular title goes to a cell she once found herself in Panama, though the word ‘cell’ should definitely be used lightly because it was hardly more than a filthy pit, with not even the luxury of a bucket to shit in. But at least when she was captive in Panama she had some human contact and brief moments of respite from the endless tedium, even if it was only so that her captors could beat the crap out of her in an attempt to get information from her.

Lexa would almost rather take the beatings than this, to be stuck staring at the same four walls with nothing but her own depressing thoughts for company.

There are two ways forward, as far as Lexa can decide. Either President Griffin has a sudden change of heart and orders Lexa’s immediate release from jail, or she gets transferred to a maximum security prison and eventually gets tried for breaking and entering and probably treason too. Lexa sincerely hopes it’s the former. Orange has never been her colour.

That, and life imprisonment doesn’t appeal. As an active person whose job revolves around thrill and danger, even the last day and a bit of being stuck in such a confined space with nothing to satisfy her hunger for adventure has been torture. If Lexa was to go to prison, she wouldn’t just miss Anya and her dads and her dog, she would miss her lifestyle. Her freedom.

When Lexa plays the first of the two scenarios out in her head, President Griffin’s change of mind is usually sparked by a conversation with her daughter. Lexa keeps herself entertained by imagining that Clarke has been so charmed by the mysterious and suave British stranger in her house that she begs her mother to release Lexa without charge, before arriving at the federal jailhouse to collect Lexa so that they can ride off into the sunset together on the back of a motorcycle.

And then Lexa remembers her brief encounter with Clarke, remembers how stilted and awkward their conversations were because Lexa could hardly string two words together in her presence, and realises that her fantasies are only ever going to be just that. Fantasies.

Lexa is so mortified at the memory of talking with Clarke that she wants to bang her head against the solid stone wall of her cell. She’s never had trouble in the presence of pretty girls before, not since she was sixteen and trying to catch the attention of Costia Amari in the year below Lexa by making eye contact with her in the school lunch hall, only to end up spilling her drink over both of them when she finally plucked up the courage to say hi after four months of wistfully staring at Costia from across a crowded room. Lexa has had significantly more experience of flirting since that particular incident, and she likes to think that she’s mastered the art, but standing down the hallway from Clarke Griffin made Lexa feel like a jittering teenager again, a flirting novice, the epitome of the useless lesbian stereotype.

Well, at least Lexa never has to see Clarke again. That would probably be more embarrassing than the encounter itself. No, the only future shame Lexa is going to have to deal with is Anya’s teasing, after Anya listened to the entire thing over Lexa’s earpiece.

Providing she gets out of this cell at all. At the moment, Lexa is fairly certain that the next time she’ll see Anya will be on the other side of a prison visiting table.

Lexa hears footsteps on the other side of the door and thinks nothing of it until it is followed by the creak of the heavy bolt being drawn back across the door to Lexa’s cell. Lexa’s head snaps up as the door opens for the first time since she was locked in here after the disaster at the White House, and the very last two people Lexa expects to see wall into her cell.

“Get up, you big twerp,” says Anya, extending a hand, which Lexa takes, letting Anya help her get to her feet from where she has been sitting on the concrete floor with her back against the wall.

“Anya?”

Lexa is confused by her friend’s sudden appearance in the cell when just a minute ago Lexa was so certain of her impending incarceration in the American prison system. But Anya is here, alongside Merlin, who must have flown across to the States when news of Lexa’s gigantic fuck-up made it back to the UK.

Anya pulls Lexa in for a hug, wrapping her strong arms around Lexa and holding her tight. It’s a nice moment, but it only lasts for a couple of seconds. Anya withdraws quickly, wrinkling up her face in disgust, and she raises a hand to cover her nose and mouth.

“God, you stink!” she exclaims.

Lexa is still wearing her clothes from the other night, black slacks now crumpled and a little dusty from sitting on the floor of her cell, shirt open at the collar and unbuttoned at the cuffs so that the sleeves can be rolled up to the elbows. The jacket was taken from her when she was arrested and her tie lies discarded on the floor. Lexa knows that she smells less than fragrant, but she’s become accustomed to the smell of her own B.O. while in this cell and she imagines that it’s much worse for somebody else walking in from the fresh air outside.

“It’s okay,” replies Lexa. “I know.”

Anya takes a step back, then lowers her hand once she’s out of Lexa’s immediate vicinity. And it only takes a fraction of a second for the ribbing that Lexa expected upon a reunion with Anya.

“So, the President’s daughter?” teases Anya, raising her eyebrows knowingly as she shoots Lexa a smug grin.

Lexa can only roll her eyes and hope that the heat she can feel rising to her cheeks doesn’t turn her entire face the colour of a tomato in embarrassment.

“Save it for when I’m not in a cell,” retorts Lexa.

“Oh, you’re getting out, by the way,” Anya tells her.

“I am?” asks Lexa, exhaling in relief.

“You are,” nods Merlin, speaking up for the first time since entering the cell alongside Anya.

They’re both dressed very smartly in suits and ties, and Merlin crosses the cell to place the leather briefcase he carries onto the bed. He flips open the clasps on either side of the handle and pulls out a sheaf of paperwork, which he shows to Lexa. The sheet on top looks like the start of a very good fake copy of an MI6 agent profile that has a small photograph of Lexa’s face attached to the top with a paperclip.

“We couldn’t tell them who you are without exposing Kingsman but we’ve got a connection in MI6 who managed to acquire these,” Merlin tells her.

Lexa’s eyes flick across the sheet and settle on the name they’ve given to the fake MI6 agent with her face.

“Alicia Clark?” she frowns. “I don’t think I look like an Alicia.”

Lexa’s stomach chooses that moment to growl thunderously.

“Oh, I brought you food,” says Anya, reaching into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulling out a cellophane-wrapped sandwich.

“Oh my god, thank you!” says Lexa, forgetting her earlier irritation at Anya as she hastily peels back the wrapping and examines the sandwich filling. “Cheese and pickle?”

“The best I could do at short notice,” nods Anya.

Lexa takes a huge bite from the sandwich and lets out an ungodly groan as the flavour fills her mouth. She never thought that somebody as basic as a slice of cheese and a dollop of chutney between two pieces of slightly stale bread could taste so good, but after a day of jailhouse slop, Lexa is pretty sure that anything would taste good.

While Lexa is enjoying her sandwich, Anya reaches inside her jacket again and pulls out a small box of ibuprofen, throwing it at Lexa, who catches it against her chest with the hand not holding the sandwich.

“For your knee,” explains Anya.

“Thanks,” says Lexa, taking a seat on the edge of the bed so that she can place the sandwich on her knees, freeing up her hands. As she pops two of the painkillers through the foil that contains them, she adds, “I know you think I play up the knee thing for sympathy, but you should try sleeping on this “bed”,” Lexa makes air quotes and rolls her eyes, “with a pre-existing injury. Hurts like a bitch.”

“I never said you were faking it,” says Anya.

Lexa shrugs and then looks up at Merlin.

“So I’m getting out of here?” she asks him. “They bought the MI6 story?”

“It took a little bit of convincing but when we started bluffing about getting the Intelligence Minister on the line they seemed to decide you could be released,” answers Anya.

“It’s late in London,” says Merlin. “I expect they’ll wait until the morning to actually follow up with MI6.”

“By which time we’ll be out of the States and there will be no record of an Alicia Clark ever here,” adds Anya. She nudges Lexa, then says, “Come on, let’s get out of here. Hotel room service awaits.”

Lexa’s stomach gives another traitorous growl, despite the sandwich that she’s nearly finished eating, and she gets to her feet again, glad to be finally leaving this dismal cell. She leaves first, closely followed by Merlin and Anya.

The air feels fresher outside the cell, and Lexa takes a deep breath so that it fills her lungs. Maybe it’s just her imagination, or perhaps freedom actually has a taste, and Lexa feels it seep into every cell in her body with each breath that she takes.

The guards eye them suspiciously as they pass, and Lexa wonders if it’s because they’re sceptical about the MI6 ruse, though Lexa supposes that the curious looks they receive as they walk out without reprimand might be because they believe the story and are intrigued by the three secret agents. If the guards are manning a reception desk at a low security jailhouse, Lexa decides that they can’t be very high-up government officials, and seeing three supposed members of a foreign intelligence organisation is probably the most interesting thing to happen to them while at work all year.

They make it outside and Lexa stops in her tracks, closing her eyes and basking in the afternoon sun that hits her skin. Though she knows it’s only been a day and a half, Lexa feels like it’s been weeks, months even, since she last saw daylight, and she never wants to take it for granted again.

“Come on,” says Anya, tapping Lexa’s arm and drawing her out of her little reverie, gesturing to the taxi waiting for them at the side of the road, having been flagged down by Merlin.

Lexa slides into the backseat of the cab next to Anya, clicking her seatbelt into place as Merlin reels off the address of a hotel and the cab drivers pulls away from the side of the road.

“So are we going to talk about how you fluffed a mission because of a girl?” asks Anya, tilting her head to look at Lexa and arching an eyebrow.

Lexa looks away in shame, glancing out of the window of the cab and wondering whether the pain and inevitable hospital visit that would occur if she opened the car door and threw herself out into another lane of moving traffic would be worth it if it meant getting away from Anya’s insistent teasing. It’s only when Lexa remembers that healthcare isn’t free in this country, that she decides that facing up to Anya might be the better option.

“I didn’t…” Lexa starts, letting out a sigh. “I was talking to her for literally five seconds before the guy showed up. He would have found me regardless.”

“Talking?” snorts Anya. “Oh no, you don’t get to call that talking. Bumbling. Flustering. Making a tit of yourself. But not talking.”

Lexa groans and leans her head against the window, staring out at the traffic that passes in the other direction.

“Wait ‘til I tell Aden what a disaster you were.”

Lexa turns back to look at Anya and shakes her head disapprovingly:

“Okay, first of all,” she starts, folding her arms across her chest in indignation, “the fact that you’re good friends with my brother is a little weird because you’re twice his age. Secondly, there are certain things that my little brother doesn’t need to know about - my personal life is one of them. Thirdly …”

“Fine, maybe I won’t tell him,” concedes Anya, pouring like a small child who has had their favourite toy taken away as punishment. “If only you were as good with women as you are at ruining my fun.”

“Maybe if you had a personal life of your own you wouldn’t need to cohort with my brother to make fun of mine,” retorts Lexa.

“Ouch.” Anya shrugs and then adds, “Though you have a point. Which is why we should use our last night in the States to go out and have some fun? Make some new stories?”

Merlin, who sits in the front seat next to the cab driver and has left them to their conversation until now, turns around and says, “Actually, you should probably stay in your hotel rooms tonight. I think you should keep a low profile, especially you Lancelot.”

Anya waits until Merlin is facing the front again, then sticks out her tongue and rolls her eyes to show her distaste for the idea of staying in their rooms.

Lexa actually thinks the idea sounds pretty good. With a transatlantic flight in the morning and having spent the last day and a half in a cell unable to properly sleep, Lexa wants nothing more than to collapse into a bed and spend the next twelve hours in a deep slumber. What she doesn’t want, is to let herself get dragged into whatever plan Anya’s mind is concocting that will inevitably involve drinking too much and staying out too late.

Already, Lexa’s eyes are beginning to droop. The movement of the car, the low rumble of the engine, and the soft fabric of the seats in comparison to the hardness of every surface in the cell, means that sleep threatens to wrap her in its embrace and Lexa tries to fight it for as long as possible.

She must drift off because it feels like they pull up at the hotel barely two seconds later and Anya is nudging her awake. Lexa blinks her eyes open and follows Anya out of the cab, leaving Merlin to settle the fare. She’s still half asleep as they take the lift up to their rooms, and hardly registers saying goodbye to Merlin as he gives them one final reminder to stay in their rooms.

Anya follows Lexa into her room, and she has barely closed the door behind them when she hisses, “Like hell we’re staying in our rooms. We’ve got one night left in this country and I’m going to make the most of it.”

Across the room, Lexa’s bed looks so inviting, with its quilted covers and four plush pillows against the headboard, and anything that is going to keep her from that bed seems like a terrible idea.

“Anya,” protests Lexa, “I think we should listen to Merlin and…”

Anya shakes her head, marching over to the wardrobe and sliding open the door. She starts rummaging around inside, pulling out items of Lexa’s clothing and holding them up against each other, before roughly shoving them back onto the railing and doing the same again with another garment. Lexa is far too tired to protest the treatment that Anya is giving her clothes.

“You need a shower, then change into this,” says Anya, taking out a pair of dark jeans and a top and thrusting the hangers at Lexa. “We’re going out.”

Though she feels too tired to go out, Lexa also doesn’t have the energy to argue.

“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” she sighs in resignation.

“What happens in D.C. stays in D.C.,” grins Anya.

“It’s funny you should say that,” says Lexa, raising an eyebrow, “because I remember you saying something very similar when we were in Prague, only you ended up dating a Czech stripper for the next four months.”

“You say that like it was a bad thing,” shrugs Anya, with a little smile. “If you’re trying to persuade me to have a quiet night in, you’re doing a terrible job.”

It only takes a moment to realise that Anya will be much easier to appease if Lexa agrees to go out. Besides, Lexa only needs to stay for one drink. By that time, Anya will have probably chatted somebody up and Lexa can return to her hotel room for a long sleep before the flight in the morning.

“Fine. Let’s go out.”

[harumaki03]

—Break—

Summary: It really had been a feat for their schedules to coincide, moreover, to make her have that little space to be together. 

Notes: English is not my first language. Please forgive any gramatical mistakes. Constructive feedbacks are always welcomed :D.

                                       -/-/-

It really had been a feat for their schedules to coincide, moreover, to make her have that little space to be together.

After the long journey from Tokyo to Motobu, Okinawa, arriving at the hotel, unpacking, both feeling that they would die of fatigue, now looking at the beach a few steps from them, they felt that all the stress of the previous days and the preparations seemed like something distant.

“It was worth it, right?” Sōma murmured softly, inhaling the smell of sea mixed with the essence of the shampoo from the blond hair of the woman lying next to him, whose head rested on his chest.

"Hmm”, was her response, both were lying on a hammock that the redhead was moving gently with his leg that hung outside of it.

Sōma shook his head a bit to try to see the female face since her response had been more a drowsy murmur than anything else.

It pleased and it filled him with tenderness to see that, in fact, the always worthy Tongue of God, Nakiri Erina, had fallen asleep to the rhythm of the soft swing of the hammock that both shared.

Her face that had previously been laden with fatigue and stress, now looked calm and relaxed, her brows were no longer puckered and she seemed to feel at peace.

With all honesty, it had been very strenuous days.

While he had been traveling from Paris to Sydney, making sure his restaurants were in order, Erina had done the same but traveling to Spain and New York, added to her tastings, the articles she had to write for the culinary magazine in which she was a food critic and meetings with the board of directors of Tōtsuki Resorts, it surprised him that she could stand up all that time without any rest.

                                       -/-/-

“We should take a break,” Sōma said, about three weeks ago on video call while watching her pull her hair in a low tail, preparing herself to sleep.

“Maybe you can, but I don't have any free space for the next three months,” she replied, looking at him through the small screen with evident fatigue. “Besides, the world will not stop because you and I are cuddled in a corner,” Erina added.

He could not help but burst out laughing. She would never change.

“You need to rest more than me,” He pointed out.

“Stop saying nonsense, it's not me who has been doing services at Shino's while juggling to be at my other restaurants and make completely new menus for both of them” Erina snapped, knowing he must be as tired as she was.

Although she had taken occasional flights to check out her restaurants, it usually only lasted two days at most and she returned to Japan. He had been away from home for almost four months already.

“Let's take a few days for us.” Erina rolled her eyes at his subtle insistence, and snorted under her breath.

“Yukihira, I remember that your itinerary is not free in the coming months too, and I barely have time to catch my breath, as for-” 

“Let's do that space, then,” he interrupted, Erina saw him ran a hand through his red and short hair, in a clear sign of weariness. “We both need it and I'm sure Arato is on the verge of collapsing knowing that you do not have time for yourself.” Erina narrowed her eyes, knowing he was right about Hisako.

He really was right about everything, but that was something she wasn't going to tell him.

“Besides” Sōma added, “I can barely remember what it feels like to kiss you.” Erina's cheeks heated up and Soma's mischievous smile told her that he had fulfilled his purpose with those words.

“You're an idiot,” Erina whispered. “If you almost don't remember, then I do not remember it at all” she countered, which caused the redhead to let out a low whistle.

“If I were so easy to forget, I don't think you were still with me,” Sōma replied mockingly. “But I'll take this as another challenge.” Erina saw him scratch his chest absentmindedly. “I'll refresh your memory when we meet face to face again.”

“I-I'd like to see you try,” Erina huffed, lying on her side on the huge king-size bed.

Sōma placed himself on his side equally on the bed, bending an arm under his head; his eyes shining with a mixture of affection and slight concern.

“Let's go on vacation somewhere, just a few days,” Sōma said quietly and Erina sighed.

It wasn't that she didn't wanted take a break or see him, she really wanted to, —although it was something she would not say out loud—, the problem is that for their schedules to coincide and rest, they had to advance a lot of work and that was a titanic task.

“We'll see,” was her brief response that was like the loudest affirmation for him.

The next day Sōma called Hisako to explain the situation and see how she could help move things here and there concerning Erina's schedule.

In short: it had been hell. Advance tastings, conclude reviews, interviews and others. Sōma almost did not succeed, having been invited with much anticipation to the festival of culture and gastronomy of Tiradentes in the city of Minas Gerais, Brazil, the same with a duration of ten days and, as a guest chef in the final days, Sōma had to be there.

He left for the airport in Rio de Janeiro as soon as his shift ended and 21 hours later, he arrived in Japan with just enough time to board the flight from Narita airport to Okinawa.

Due to the fair time he would arrive, he and Erina had agreed to meet at the airport to depart together to Okinawa.

As soon he entered the terminal, he pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jacket, seeing the list of notifications of messages on his lock screen, he slid them to remove them and among many, he saw that she had sent him a message almost one hour ago that simply read "IASS Executive Lounge".

And yes, in that VIP room located on the fifth floor of the airport, he found her. 

Due to the time and type of flight, there were barely three other people apart from her sitting scattered throughout the room, which made it even easier to locate her figure sitting in a corner, while typing at full speed on her mobile.

“Please, tell me you're not working anymore,” Was his greeting, she stopped short and looked up in his direction quickly.

“Yukihira,” Erina muttered, surprised to see him in front of her in flesh after all this time. Sōma did not waited much longer and leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the lips.

Erina blinked, surprised at the chasteness of the kiss and began to feel her cheeks a little bit warmer than before, while looking around to see if someone had seen them.

“This is a public place!” She scolded him in a low, hurried voice.

“Because it's a public place has been so fast,” Sōma answered, placing that smile full of self-confidence. “But don't worry Nakiri, later there will be no one to look at us.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb before resting his forehead on hers and breathing her.

“Hentai,” Erina whispered, noticing even more closely how tired the redhead looked, just as herself.

“We should be get going to the boarding gate.” He felt her nod against him. “I missed you,” he whispered softly, but with enough strength for her to listen. 

Erina's heart gave two acrobatic jumps worthy of an Olympic gold medal.

“Me too,” was all she could say, allowing herself to be honest in that brief moment of weakness, stroking one of his cheeks with the tips of her fingers.

After the regulations and boarding the plane, although he didn't wanted to, as soon as they were in the air, Sōma fell asleep, exhausted, during almost the whole flight, awakening from time to time to make sure that she was still at his side and to slightly squeeze her hand between his. 

During the same, Erina barely slept but she was comforted by the warmth and security offered by those long, bronzed fingers trapping hers.

                                      -/-/-

Sōma caressed Erina's hair in a distracted way, occasionally massaging her scalp, exerting little pressure

He moved his right leg subtly, causing the hammock to continue moving smoothly. If they could stay like this for a while longer than those few days… 

Their lives after Tōtsuki had been a coming and going, opening restaurants, recognitions, always focused on the next culinary goal. It surprised him that despite all the time that had passed, they were still in that relationship where they could barely see each other.

He knew that at some point they must slow down, specially him. He only hoped that when the time came, she would be willing to slow down her pace of life along with him.

Meanwhile —he left a kiss on the top of her head— they could enjoy these little moments that they tried to steal from time.

He felt her move close to him and turned his gaze down, seeing her frown a little, as she always did before she awoke.

“Shh, sleep a little longer, Erina,” He said in a whisper; his fingers continued to caress Erina’s hair gently as she rubbed her face against the redhead's chest.

He sensed how she breathed deeply and then settled back against him, while her hand lazily drew nonsense patterns on his abdomen, causing him a slight tingling.

Sōma continued to move the hammock gently, while his hand had moved to her arm, stroking it with the tips of his fingers.

At some point Sōma was dragged into the dream world along with her and therefore the hammock stopped its gentle swing but even that did not cause either of them to wake up.

The feeling of comfort and security that they felt next to each other was enough to keep them asleep a little bit more. 

—End—

The idea came up because of a prompt that was about A falling asleep on B's chest as he rocked the hammock where they were lying.

Well, it will not be the masterpiece but it is better than nothing, hahaha (ahem), I hope that you all can enjoy this small story and thank you for reading, until the next time :D

¡Ja ne!