this must have been done a million times before

Savages

Bucky&Steve x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, stress, threesome(s), graphic male-female and male-male sexual acts 

Originally posted by enochianess

@4theluvofall @canadiancoven @zaynxseb @jjlevin​​ @starstar1012​​ @stephvera​​@styleswift1989​​@amf71010​​@heismyhunter​​  @a-small-independent-princess​​ @bxckytrxsh​​ @incadinkadoo @buckyismybbz@seabastian-barnes@number1fantrash@verycoolveryunique@snowwhiteslays@tesseractbucky​ @popsxerox@the-one-and-only-vampcake @fallingpanickedkilljoys@lostinspace33@buckyshattergirl@httpstainme @bellejeunefillesansmerci@lilacs-lavender@vickybhutcherson @debbiesarts @vacam79 @aubzylynn@imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @rayannacascade @imhereforbvcky @justareader @recherchay @hating-life-rn @that-one-third-wheel3 @bel3745

Honorary tag: @tesseractbucky because I somehow seem to keep kicking you off this thing (not on purpose, I promise!) This way it’ll hopefully not happen again!

Summary: As a high-end fashion designer you’re living an extensively comfortable life. When your relationship of six years ends, you’re not too happy to see your newly-ex on the arm of another woman directly after; which is part of the reason you don’t mind running in to two men, who seem to have some exciting plans with you. As a woman who always gets what she wants, you immediately recognise men who are used to that exact same thing, and you’re more than happy to be the one to put them in their place.

Keep reading

Hello

Pairing: Anthony Ramos x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony sings Hello by Adele at a bar one night, as he sings he can’t help but think of the break up and all of the mistakes he made with you.

AN: Unofficial sequel! Modern AU! Technically I would consider this a sequel to ‘Someone like you’ but it can be pulled off as not being a sequel.

Italics = flashbacks

Words: 1452

Warning: Angst; Anthony being kind of obsessive/ stalkerish; flashbacks; alcohol mentioned

______________________________

Setting his drink down he got up off the bar stool and made his way up the stage. His friends cheered him on once he got up there.

“Uh, hi I’m Anthony Ramos and I’m going to be singing Hello from Adele.” He stated. It seemed the whole bar at their eyes on him but he didn’t mind it, he’s used to a large crowd of people watching him perform.

The music began to play.

“Hello, it’s me I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet. To go over, everything. They say that time’s supposed to heal ya, but I ain’t done much healing.”

-

Anthony looked down at his phone as his call went to voice mail. Sighing he went to his texts then went to your number.

‘Hey I was wondering if you’d like to meet up somewhere…maybe grab a coffee?’

Pressing sent he shoved his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans before heading back to rehearsal.

-

“Hello, can you hear me, I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be. When we were younger and free….”

-

You let out a squeal when you were lifted up into the air.

“Anthony stop it!” You giggled as he spun you around, laughing. When he finally set you down, you playfully hi his chest. He grinned, that adorable grin that always made you swoon. Hands holding yours pulled you against him, lips brushing together before connecting.

-

“I’ve forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet.” Anthony’s voice quieted down at the last note.

-

You were scribbling something down on a check, putting it in a envelope.Your hair up in a sloppy bun, dressed in sweats and a tank-top.

“Anthony I need you to go to the post office.” You stated, standing up from the couch.

“Why do I have to do it?” He asked, slightly irritated. You tugged at the bun, causing it to fall.

“Because I have a shift at the diner starting soon, I don’t have the time. And we need to pay the cable bill since we don’t the landlord’s.” You told him, walking past him to get changed for work.

When you walked out dressed in your waitressing uniform you were fixing your hair. “I need you to take down the rent for the landlord also.” Putting on your shoes and coat.

Arms wrapped around you from behind. He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, lightly kissing it.

“A-Anthony I don’t have time. I’m going to be late.” You stated, using your stern voice, but wavered when he reached your soft spot. “Damn it Ant, I’m going to be late.” Pulling yourself away you left the apartment.

-

“There’s such a difference between us and a million miles. So hello from the other side, I must have called a thousand times to tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done. But when I call you never, seem to be home.” His eyes were closed for a moment before they opened again.

-

“I’m sorry the person you are trying to reach is unavailable, please leave a message after the beep.” Anthony groaned after it went to voicemail again.

Beep.

“Hey Y/N it’s Anthony. Look I know it’s been awhile since we saw each other and I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I messed up, I know that. Please let me fix this.” Pulling the phone away from his ear he tapped the screen to end the call.

Falling back on his bed he stared at the ceiling. His eyes began to burn along with a burning sensation in the back of his throat.

It hurt.

Anthony wanted you back. He mentally slapped himself for being so god damn stupid for ruining what he had with you.

He hurt you.

He broke you.

He left you.

-

“Hello from the outside, at least I can say that I’ve tried, to tell you I’m sorry, for breaking your heart, but it don’t matter it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore.” His mind rushed to the moment of when he found out you were seeing someone.

-

Anthony broke up with Jasmine earlier that morning. He couldn’t take it anymore. He missed you so much.

Walking down the streets of NYC he went to Starbucks near Broadway. Pushing the door open he was welcomed by the smell of cappuccino and coffee. He waited in the semi long line.

He remembered all the time he brought you here. You loved this one tea they made. You always claimed that it tasted like Christmas if made just right. He’d always laugh when you got excited over it, it was adorable.

Anthony was messing around on his phone when the bell at the entrance jingled.

The warmth of the place made you feel a lot more comfortable then it had outside where it was cold.

You grabbed the hand of the person who was with you and dragged them along in line.

“Y/N theirs no rush.” Your boyfriend told you. Anthony froze when he heard your name….coming from one of his good friend’s mouth.

“Oak you know how fast the line fills up. I don’t want to wait that long.” Oak chuckled.

“Whatever you say babe.” You pouted up at him as he smiled down at you, pressing a light peck on your lips causing you to smile.

Anthony heard everything. He didn’t dare turn around.

‘Is this why you never answered his calls?’

Guilt but also jealousy twisted inside Anthony’s gut. He didn’t dare turn around.

He couldn’t.

This is what he wanted. He wanted to see you again to make it work but how could he now knowing your seeing someone else? Especially since the one your seeing is a mutual friend of yours?

-

“Hello, how are you. It’s so typical of me to talk about myself, I’m sorry. I hope that you’re well. Did you ever make it out of that time where nothing ever happens.”

“It’s no secret that the both of us are running out of time.”

-

You were getting married.

Anthony received the invitation in the mail from Oak.

Anthony cried. He cried.

It hurt so much. So he did the only thing that would numb the pain for the time being which was to have a drink.

-

“Hello from the other side I must have called a thousand times to tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done. But when I call you never seem to be home.”

-

“Is that Anthony again?” Oak asked you when you pressed decline on your cell.

“No, it’s not.” You lied, erasing his number from your call log. “Just another 800 number.” You told him as you joined him in bed.

-

“Hello from the outside at least I can say that I’ve tried to tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart.”

-

He walked out on you. HIs bags in hand, the door now closed behind him. He heard you cries from the hall, the heartbreak. When he left he broke you but he didn’t care in the beginning.

-

“But it don’t matter clearly it doesn’t tear you apart anymore.”

-

His hands were shoved in his pocket. Anthony stood like kind of creep dressed in all black, his hood up just standing across the street from your place. The place you shared with your fiancé Okieriete.

Both you and Oak walked out the door laughing. You smiled at Oak. He knew that look. That look you give when your completely happy and content. You used to give him that look.

A tear slid down his face.

-

“Anymore. Anymore. Anymore.” He sang

-

You were married now. Happily married at that. Anthony showed up for the wedding but stayed in the back during the whole thing. The party after he stayed for a bit, chatting with Daveed, Lin and the others. His mind was everywhere that night. He didn’t leave a gift but a small card for you.

When you saw it you threw it out. No one questioned it. They didn’t need to.

-

“So hello from the other side, I must have called a thousand times to tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done. But when I call you never, seem to be home. Hello from the outside, at least I can say that I’ve tried, to tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart, but it doesn’t matter it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore.” Once the song finished everyone cheered.

He got off the stage and went back to his spot next to his friend, ordering another drink.

‘Just one last drink.’ Anthony told himself.

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand , Peaches... Chapter 37- Flowers

Originally posted by mypapawinchester

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit…

Chapter 37- Flowers


The sun was hot in the sky, and Blake stopped to take a long drink of slightly-warm water, as she wiped at her perspiring brow.

By the time she had emerged out into the lot to grab some fresh air, she had been surprised to find that work had already begun on making the area into a self-sufficient garden of sorts, under her orders from yesterday.

This was obviously Negan’s doing. And Blake hadn’t been able to help herself from smiling at the idea of him actually valuing her opinions.

He was the first man in a long time who had, that was for sure.

Keep reading

Tell Me How pt. 2

First I have to say, I was blown away by how well the first chapter was received, you are all awesome. Seriously, the bughead family is probably the best fandom I’ve been a part of and it’s because each and every one of you is simply amazing! Especially @wordsonpages1, thanks for everything! And now I give you…chapter two :)


Betty Cooper was stuck. Her instinct was to turn heel and walk away like he’d done all those years before, but there was so much more than her pride at stake. It was one of those moments that seemed to last a lifetime or at least flash it before your eyes. Betty felt the breath hitch in her throat, her hands clung to the car seat as Jughead Jones stepped into the moonlight. Millions of thoughts ran through her mind, so rapidly she couldn’t find the words or bandwidth to process them. Her eyes steeled against the tears that threatened to overwhelm her, the taste of blood spilling across her tongue once again.

“Let’s get him inside,” Jughead said quietly. Betty nodded and followed him into the house. It was warm, and not just in a temperate way, but in feeling. She didn’t see much; he’d ushered her into the kitchen where the red walls were covered in cast iron cookware, and took the carrier from her arms, setting it on the table. Betty picked up the binkie attached to the baby’s sleeper and placed it in his mouth, whispering nonsensical things as she tried to placate him back to sleep. She could feel Jughead’s eyes on her, feel the questions lingering on his lips as she watched his mouth open and close in her periphery, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed them down.

The baby settled, but only for a moment. He was fighting against sleep, desperately trying to hold on…even if he had no idea what it was he’d lost. Just that something was terribly wrong in his universe, and Betty wanted nothing more than to hold him to her chest and kiss away the tears.  Jughead’s heavy sigh drew her attention but she still didn’t dare look at him. Thoughts bombarded her, her insides felt as if she were being pulled in a hundred different directions, the room started to spin until the pain pierced the veil she hadn’t even been aware she’d been constructing. She needed to maintain some semblance of professionalism, which she felt she failed to do up until this point. He was going to provide shelter, stability, affection…love; her teeth found the inside of her cheek already tender, but she bit down anyway. He deserved that love. They both did. The breath that passed her own lips was shaky, her nerves were all but shot from the proceeding day, and Jughead’s proximity did nothing to allay them.

“Jughead Jones,” she said once her voice returned to her, “meet Elliot.”

He was standing next to her, his shoulder making the slightest contact with hers as he tried to draw Elliot’s attention. He smiled, softly, at the baby, voice hushed and calm, each word that fell from his lips stung her. Stepping back, Betty turned to look out the window, unable to focus on much more than the sound of the Sweetwater churning in the distance. His voice made her raw, exposing nerves she’d long thought healed, and his scent, lingering in the air around her…

“Betts?” He questioned, so casually, as the tips of his fingers pressed against the small of her back. For a fleeting moment, she nearly gave in. The warmth of his touch spread through her, the strength she’d so relied on for so long within her grasp. She could feel his fingers grip at the fabric of her coat before she turned away from him, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Betty steeled herself against the resignation that settled in his eyes as he stepped back.

“All of my contact information is in the diaper bag, but I would understand if you maybe wanted to deal with someone else, um, I’ll just tell my supervisor to be waiting for your call.”  She nodded, resolute.

A deep crease furrowed his brow. “No, Betty, that’s not going to happen.”

“Listen, Jughead, this doesn’t have to be a difficult transition. It’s not going to be easy; infants rarely are, I mean the twins were…” A lifetime ago, she thought. But she didn’t know this Jughead Jones. Fuck, she thought, if the words rose in her throat as steadily as the bile seemed to, she may be able to discern a thing or two about how to salvage this increasingly awkward encounter. She smiled, politely, as air huffed softly through her nose. “I just don’t want him to suffer because we can’t even have a conversation.”

“Betty, come on, if anyone else had been standing at that door you would have been the epitome of professional. I mean look at you,” he waved his hand, appraising her form: impossibly high ponytail, pressed slacks, matching jacket, kitten-heeled pumps. “Even at three a.m.; you’re a vision.” Jugheads voice faded out, his eyes dropped from hers and back to Elliot, now blowing bubbles in his sleep.

The urge to move possessed Betty suddenly, it was too quiet, too still…she could hear the wheels turning in his head, could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. She started pacing. “Jughe…Jug, this is not going to be easy for me. Being here, in your house… Hah, I didn’t even know you were back in Riverdale! But I guess that was kind of the point then, wasn’t it?” She held up her hand when he tried to speak. “I will not ask questions unless it’s about Elliot. I won’t contact you unless it regards him, and if this is going to work…” she swallowed hard as she stopped pacing and turned back to face him, glassy-eyed, her heart stuck in her throat. “This has to work Jughead. I need to be there for him, I can’t really explain why.”

A soft smile broke his lips, but his eyes still held onto the sadness that always seemed to pervade them. “Because you’re Betty Cooper. He’s so lucky to have you on his side. I promise I won’t fuck this up for you, like–”

“We can’t do that, go down that road. Not tonight, maybe not ever. Right now, I’m Elliot’s case worker and you are his foster parent, we’ll keep to professional courtesies, and see each other only when necessary. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “okay.” His voice sounded hoarse to her ears and if the last three years hadn’t happened, she might even felt a little bit bad about being so terse. Instead, she nodded, turning to walk out of the room, out of his house, until her eyes refocused on the baby, still in his car seat on the table. Her eyes softened as she thought about all this little boy would have to get through, a watery smiled tugged at the corners of her lips as she looked back to Jughead, who was looking at Elliot the same way. While she wasn’t exactly sure what her feelings about Jughead would be, or even what they were at the moment, she was thankful that, at least for a little while, Elliot would have him.

 ——————————————————————————————

Betty was thankful for the warm, yellow lights as they cascaded from the sky in even intervals the closer she got to town. The road from the Sweetwater didn’t have but a couple of streetlights and Betty’s tired eyes could hardly handle the strain. She just wanted to be home, wrapped in her ratty, flannel blanket, listening to something that was bound to make her cry even harder than she already planned on doing.

How the hell had Jughead Jones ended up a foster parent? The question and a thousand crazier-than-the-last theories cycled through her head. She couldn’t remember him discussing it at any time, though, it had been a long time ago. She was certain she’d remember that though, considering why they’d parted ways in the first place. Her hands clenched the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as she drove back into Riverdale, the last words he’d said to her, resonating as loudly now as then. Betty must have been driving on autopilot, her mind a million miles away as the car shuddered to a stop before looming wrought iron gates. Betty looked up confused, not even realizing she’d made her way to the cemetery rather than her own home. Resigned, she killed the engine and made her way to the gate, pulling the loosely chained panels apart and sliding through.

This was unfortunately not Betty Cooper’s first dalliance with breaking into the cemetery after hours. She’d done it a few times when she was younger, more now that she moved back. Some nights she just needed the kind of comfort only the graveyard would offer. What she was looking for lie up ahead, too large an obelisk to be anything but a beacon. A sad smile settled on her lips as she slid down the left of the monument, wind whipping stray strands of hair into the tracks of her freshly spilled tears.

“What am I supposed to do now, Pol?”

 —————————————————————————–

It was nearly six before Betty got home, her house engulfed in the blush, rosy hues of sunrise. She sent a quick text to her boss, letting her know what happened and that she’d be in late. Stripping off her clothes and pulling the hair-tie free, Betty threw herself back onto the pristinely made bed, where she desperately willed sleep to claim her.

It didn’t.

Her eyes traced the cracks in her plastered ceiling, each spindly branch weaving through the stucco, all eventually leading back to the center where the fan was haphazardly suspended above her. The air whirred around her, chilling her skin but doing nothing to assuage what bubbled under the surface. She felt fire, rising in her stomach, and almost too late realized that she was actually going to be sick.

She barely made it into the bathroom, opting to empty her stomach into the sink as it was a few steps closer. Wiping a hand across her mouth, she caught a glimpse of her reflection and promptly sank to the floor. Hands tangled in her hair, the vinyl tile sticking to her bare skin, the tears overtook and the battle she’d valiantly fought all night came crumbling down around her.

Betty opened one eye, then the other, still bleary from sleep as the percussive cries of her niece woke her. She rolled to face her clock, the glaring red numbers read 7:22. Annoyed she couldn’t sleep in on the only Saturday she had free until graduation, Betty flung off her covers and hopped out of bed.

The door to Polly’s room was cracked open with the light from the adjacent bathroom peeking out from under the door. Rolling her eyes, Betty opened the door to the nursery and was greeted with the sight of her infuriated niece and nephew. Seeing their tear-streaked, ruddy cheeks, Betty was overcome with guilt, she should be more willing to help, she knew how hard it was getting on Polly. Between work, online classes, Hal Cooper’s complete and utter detachment from his eldest daughter, Alice’s incessant over-bearing…everything; she’d been flailing. Betty tried to help her. She and Jughead took the twins every Wednesday night, Cheryl had them Saturday and Sunday, but maybe she should be doing more.

Betty tried figuring how she could work more twin-time into her already hectic schedule as she changed Calliope, her little hands fisting red curls as she babbled. Smiling at her niece, Betty put her back in the crib and tended to Xander. Once the twins were cleaned up, she walked over to the bathroom and rapped on the door.

“Pol? I’m taking the twins downstairs. I’ll get them fed and everything, just, take your time.” She heard a garbled ‘Thank you, Betty,’ through the thin door, and couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips.

A kid on each hip, she walked into the kitchen with purpose. And that purpose was waffles. She secured Callie and Xan in their highchairs and sent a quick text to Jughead before pulling the iron from the pantry and starting on breakfast.

The music was turned up loud, Betty dancing and singing along to whatever random kid’s song played on satellite. Xander laughed and swayed back and forth in his chair, making silly faces at his aunt while Callie tried her hand at singing, or loudly screaming. Betty couldn’t help but smile at the scene in front of her; smiles, sticky, syrupy-hands matting Xander’s spiky blonde hair to his head, Callie’s quasi-toothy grin as she recognizes the next song.

She’s distracted by the ding of her phone, quickly reading the text before rushing up the stairs.

“Hey Pol, there’s still some waffles left if you want them. Juggie’s on his way, so seriously, if you want them you’re going to need to get a move on!” She waited a beat; still nothing. Her knuckles tapped against the door gently. “Pol?” When more silence followed, they connected with more urgency. “Polly?!” There was some noise coming from the other side, but whatever it was made Betty’s blood run cold.

Frantically, she screamed for her sister, hands desperately yanking at the locked door, the knob not giving as much as she fought it. Then she tried to kick it, she felt the door bow as her foot made contact, but it wasn’t enough. Taking a step back, and a deep breath, Betty lowered her shoulder and hit the door just above the knob, splintering the frame with the force as the door swung open.

“POLLY!!!” Betty dropped to her knees, sweeping her sister up into her arms. Vomit clung to Polly’s hair, ran down her face, pooled next to the base of the toilet; it’s pervasive stench assaulting Betty’s nostrils. “You can’t do this to me! You promised…” The tears now freely flowed down Betty’s face as she turned her sister to face her and maybe see if she could get her to throw up again.

“Betty,” she croaked before the drugs overtook her. The last image that would be seared into her sister’s mind would be that of the whites of her eyes, vomit dribbling off her chin as she went limp in her arms.

“No no no no no no…” Betty muttered, sliding Polly to the floor before she started chest compressions. “You cannot leave them, Polly. Calliope and Xander need you. I need you, please,” she cried.

“Betty? What’s going…oh my god,” Betty looked up, tears falling onto Polly who lay unresponsive under her.

“Juggie,” she said brokenly as pain in her wrists and shoulders started to set in. She had no idea how long she’d been doing compressions, she only knew she stopped when Jughead had pulled her off, insisting that EMTs would be there any second. She hadn’t even seen him call. He led her down the stairs, back to the kitchen where the twins were still entertained by the Barenaked Ladies. She stared, dazed, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

“Betts, please, I need you to breathe. Okay, can you do that for me?” He asked, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. The smell of his laundry detergent and stale smoke did wonders for her nerves, or maybe it was just the way he never took his hands off of her, tethering her to Earth before she slipped away from reality. Together they moved the twins into the living room, and as soon as the first gate went up, Hal and Alice Cooper burst through the door, Riverdale paramedics and police arriving just seconds later.

Betty knew the moment her mother had made it upstairs. The sound Alice Cooper made upon finding her daughter dead on her bathroom floor would haunt Betty’s dreams the rest of her life. She pulled her feet up on the couch, wrapping her arms around her legs, curling herself into the smallest form she could as Jughead wrapped his arms around her, and promised, in no unwavering terms that he would be by her side. Always.

The ties of his mask were stifling, despite how loosely they were wrapped around his neck. Were they any looser, his mask would have fallen off his face, and yet still the headache persisted, a dull ache in the back of his head that grew incrementally stronger with each throb. 

He just didn’t want to be here. 

There was nothing new about this setting: a ballroom decorated with such opulence it made his stomach turn- though that may have just been his stomach, empty save for the alcohol burning away in it. Loud music, drinks flowing, women in formal dresses coquettishly batting their eyes at the prince. To some, it must have felt like a dream, but to him, it was a waking nightmare worse than that feeling he woke up to every night, the feeling of being tossed across the pit like a weightless doll. 

Gerard had done this a million times before in his life, but none was worse than tonight. Despite the layers of clothes and the mask to hide his identity, he felt vulnerable and exposed. He’d never minded society. The harsh opinions and judgments of others had never affected him, more like water off a duck’s back than anything. It was the lack of Diana on his arm that made him feel this way, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Their conversation earlier hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped, though he didn’t really know what he’d expected in the first place. 

Where usually he’d have been dragged onto the dance floor by his fiancee, he chose now to try and blend into the wall, standing away from the festivities. Gerard was in no mood to draw attention to himself. Her parents would be here; he wanted to make an appearance and keep to himself. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, signaling the arrival of someone who he was sure he wouldn’t want to talk to. “Walk away,” he said without turning his head. “I’m not in a particularly entertaining mood.”